Moonbeams: A Christian Romance Novel (The Lewis Legacy Series Book 5) Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9912252-8-6

  Moonbeams is © 2014 by JoAnn Durgin. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce in whole or in part in any form or medium.

  All Scripture contained within is from the New American Standard Bible.

  Text set in Garamond

  eBook Edition

  Cover Design by Dino Piccinini

  Moonbeams

  He represents nothing she ever wanted. And offers everything she needs.

  She’s everything he needs. And wants nothing from him.

  When their paths collide, can two people from different worlds dream of a future together?

  Expect the unexpected.

  Mitch Jacobsen’s younger sister, Amy Warnick, has tried to pair him off with her fellow TeamWork Missions volunteer, Cassie, for over a year. Why can’t Amy understand that the harder she pushes, the faster he’ll run? Dating a woman who lives 1,600 miles away—no matter how gorgeous and compassionate—isn’t on his radar.

  Cassandra Thorenson wants nothing to do with a man who works with money and contributes to corporate greed. Dating a Wall Street broker—no matter how handsome and funny—is the last thing she needs.

  Surely, the Almighty must have a better plan.

  When these two meet during a TeamWork mini-reunion in Houston over Valentine’s Day weekend, Mitch and Cassie discover they have a lot more in common than they’d ever imagined. Their plan to resist one another quickly derails and then an unexpected event sends them all reeling.

  Let the sparks and the tempers fly!

  The highly anticipated new contemporary Christian romantic adventure in the popular Lewis Legacy Series, Moonbeams is the story of discovering God’s perfect will amidst the most unexpected circumstances.

  A Note from the Author

  This fifth contemporary romantic adventure in the Lewis Legacy Series is dedicated to my faithful readers. Your prayers, notes of encouragement and emails are precious for my heart.

  This book is also dedicated to the victims, survivors, and families so profoundly touched by the World Trade Center tragedy of September 11, 2001, and Hurricane Katrina in late August 2005.

  May we never forget.

  And may we remember that our God is mighty and He is always in control.

  Blessings,

  JoAnn Durgin

  Matthew 5:16

  Scripture Verses in Moonbeams

  1 Samuel 16:7

  But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

  Romans 12:21

  Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

  James 2:14-17

  What use is it, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but he has no works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and be filled,” and yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body, what use is that? Even so faith, if it has no works, is dead, being by itself.

  2 Timothy 1:7

  For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline.

  Ephesians 4:25

  Therefore, laying aside falsehood, speak truth each one of you with his neighbor, for we are members of one another. Be angry, and yet do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not give the devil an opportunity. He who steals must steal no longer; but rather he must labor, performing with his own hands what is good, so that he will have something to share with one who has need. Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear.

  Chapter 1

  Friday, February 13, 2004

  Is this what a panic attack feels like?

  Mitch Jacobsen’s stomach lurched as the plane hiccupped through the latest air pocket. The perks of flying in a private plane aside, why hadn’t he followed his instincts and flown commercial? He’d never felt so queasy and on the verge of losing it.

  Curling his fingers around both arms of the seat, his jaw tightened as he stared in disbelief at his sister. With one jeans-clad leg crossed over the other, Amy slowly swung her black high-heeled boot as she flipped through the glossy pages of a magazine. How could she remain so calm when they could imminently plummet to their deaths? Not that he was superstitious in any sense of the word, but did it have to be Friday the 13th?

  Amy tossed her magazine on the adjacent seat and then grabbed an airbag. “Here, take this. You look like you might need it.” She handed the bag across the aisle with a frown. “You’re all pale and clammy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d never been on a small plane before. What’s up? You used to love to fly.” A frown creased her forehead. “Is this about Brad—?”

  “Not at all.” Liar. More than two years later, the mention of his closest friend seared straight through his gut and pierced his soul, the wound still gaping, raw and fresh. Snatching the airbag from Amy’s hands, Mitch mumbled his thanks and hoped he wouldn’t need to use it. “I’ve never experienced so much turbulence before. And how do I look clammy?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that one.”

  His dress shirt was damp and strangling him at the collar. After loosening his tie, Mitch unfastened the top button of the shirt. He should have changed into jeans and a T-shirt before boarding the flight, but he’d rushed straight from the office to get to the airstrip on time. He’d definitely need to change his clothes after their arrival in Houston. If they arrived.

  He’d probably lost five pounds of sweat on this flight, more than during the grueling racquetball match earlier in the week against his brother-in-law, Landon Warnick. The man in the cockpit now. He needed to chill. Landon would get them there safely. Even so, as soon as this metal trap landed, he resolved to drop to his knees and kiss the ground. At least Texas asphalt should be warmer than the pavement in New York.

  “You sure you’re okay? You’d tell me if you’re having a medical emergency, right?”

  If one of his former patients presented with identical symptoms, he’d have pegged the case as classic hyperventilation brought on by anxiety.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I need to relax. And hope we don’t run into more heavy turbulence.” Moving one hand over his abdomen, Mitch deep breathed. In and out, in and out. “Keep talking,” he said. “It helps if I focus on something else.”

  “Not a problem. That I can do.” Amy eased back in her seat. “Landon’s a great pilot, and there’s nothing to worry about. Sorry about the turbulence although it’s beyond his control.”

  In terms of her husband’s ability to pilot his beloved Cessna, Amy was right. Landon was experienced and steady. The man led a charmed life. No way God would allow this guy to go down in flames. Straightening his shoulders, Mitch reached above him to adjust the vent. The blast of cool air felt good on his face. “I’m not questioning your husband’s skill as a pilot, but sometimes nature can be an indomitable force.”

  Amy stared at him like a horn had suddenly sprouted from his forehead. “I think you missed your calling. I won’t give you the whole trust in the Lord versus the forces of nature s
peech because you know it as well as I do. Maybe you should have trained to be an actor like Grandpa Carlisle. Play up those dramatic tendencies of yours and put them to good use.”

  “Not in this lifetime. I wouldn’t want to ruin Grandpa’s good name.”

  Tilting her head, Amy eyed him as she tucked a section of shoulder-length dark hair behind one ear. “The older you get, the more you’re the spitting image of him. Only more muscular and a couple of inches taller. Did you know Grandpa was voted one of the most handsome Broadway actors for ten years running? I always knew he was popular and well-respected, but Mom told me he was an honest-to-goodness heartthrob. I think she used the term matinee idol.”

  “You don’t say.” Considering ego strokes were few and far between as of late, he’d take what he could get no matter the source. Since their Hollywood-turned-Broadway stage actor grandfather died years ago, it was weird enough when older women swarmed him at random times, most often at the theater. They’d request his autograph, touch his sleeve, gush and call him Eric Carlisle. On the other hand, it was also sweet and sentimental. Depending on the circumstances, he’d either tell them he was Eric’s grandson or let it go, allowing the ladies to believe in the fantasy. Not that he was proud of it, but he’d rather tell a half-truth than disappoint them.

  Amy shook her head. “Okay, I can see that little bit of flattery does nothing for you.”

  “While it does feed my ego, you also implied I’m getting older as we speak. It’s a backhanded compliment if ever I’ve heard one.”

  “I’m not trying to feed your ego, but let’s approach it from another angle. Think about the fact you might be meeting the woman of your dreams this afternoon.” A small smile curved Amy’s lips and she narrowed her chameleon-like eyes, currently more green than gray. That stubborn tilt of her chin and sly I’ve got a secret expression spelled t-r-o-u-b-l-e and then some.

  A hundred comebacks came to mind, but none Mitch wanted to voice. “That’s over the top, even for you.” He chuckled, thankful this discussion at least served as a distraction. “I think you’re the one who inherited the family acting gene, not me. Why don’t you try a little subtlety sometime?”

  Of course, Amy referred to Cassie Thorenson, her co-volunteer in TeamWork Missions. Long, gorgeous auburn hair, sweet southern accent—Alabama?—and luminous blue eyes that held no hint of guile. Technically, he’d made her acquaintance at Amy and Landon’s wedding reception. To his discredit, he’d assumed Cassie was as naïve as she appeared. During their brief conversation, she’d blown him away with her insightful response to some offhand comment he’d made. Then his unfortunate choice of a date—a woman he preferred not to remember—hauled him off to the dance floor.

  Thoughts of Cassie lingered in his mind long after the wedding, but admitting as much to Amy would be a regrettable mistake. If he gave her the slightest hint he might be interested, she’d book the chapel and minister faster than he could say think again.

  As it was, Amy had dropped broad hints about Cassie with alarming regularity during the past year. How many times had he heard about the woman’s quick wit and seemingly unending acts of kindness? In offhand moments, she’d slip in some casual reference. Last week, she’d gone so far as to hum the tune of “Sweet Home Alabama” as they’d waited for a table at their weekly dinner.

  Sure, he was intrigued, but what would be the point? The logistics—geographically speaking—were impossible. Bottom line, he lived in Manhattan and Cassie lived in Houston. As he’d gotten older, for various reasons, he wasn’t especially fond of flying. When Amy first married Landon, he’d enjoyed the idea of a private plane at his disposal every now and then. Now, not so much. Except for the occasional business trip, he generally stayed close to home. That fact alone should nix a long distance romance, no matter how charming the woman.

  “You were thinking about Cassie just now, weren’t you?” Amy’s smug smile tugged him back to reality.

  In order to avoid her piercing gaze, Mitch glanced out the window. Light, fluffy white clouds floated across the horizon in his range of vision. Pretty things could also be deceptive and play with his mind. Any minute they’d probably hit another nasty air pocket, more of a hard burp than a minor hiccup.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll humor you,” he said. “Tell me why you believe a relationship with Cassie could possibly ever work.”

  ~~**~~

  Cassie Thorenson eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror. She had to admit, the vision staring back at her didn’t look half-bad. Secretly, she loved the opportunity to wear this elegant, emerald brocade gown. For a few hours, in the backyard of Sam and Lexa Lewis’s Houston home, she could pretend to be a princess in a fairy tale. Of course, her story boasted no castle and no white horse. Not even a moat or a fire-breathing dragon. And certainly no handsome prince. Not that she needed any of those things to find her own happily ever after.

  She met Rebekah Moore’s green-eyed gaze in the mirror. “Tell me the truth, Beck. Do I look like a displaced Shakespearean player or maybe Renaissance Barbie?”

  “Hush. You’re gorgeous.” Rebekah anchored one hand on her shoulder. “Stand still so I can finish putting this baby’s breath in your hair.”

  Cassie obeyed as her friend added the delicate flower sprays to her braid. Running her finger over the gold filigree pattern stitched into the skirt of the gown, she sighed. “Can you imagine wearing a dress like this all the time, especially in this heat and humidity?”

  “You have to admit it’s a lot of fun.” Rebekah secured one last pin in Cassie’s hair. “It reminds me of playing dress-up when I was little.”

  “You’re right. This gives us the chance to indulge our inner child.”

  Rebekah stepped back and appraised her handiwork. “Here,” she said, grabbing a small mirror from the nearby dresser and handing it to her. “Turn around and let me know what you think.”

  Doing as she instructed, Cassie held up the mirror and followed the length of the elaborate braid halfway down her back. “Very impressive. Thanks. The braid’s perfect and the flowers look positively whimsical. Wasn’t that your word?”

  “I think I said romantic, but whimsical works fine, too. Glad you approve.”

  After handing back the mirror, Cassie adjusted the bodice, lifting the sturdy fabric to settle more squarely on her shoulders. “I’d better be careful not to bend over too far if I do the dip and curtsy thing. Now I have a theory why the necklines on these gowns are scooped so low.”

  “What’s that?” Rebekah tucked a strand of long blonde hair under a pink beaded headband that matched her gown. She was statuesque, blonde and effortlessly beautiful. The fact that she seemed oblivious to it, or simply didn’t care, made her even lovelier. Otherwise, it’d be incredibly annoying.

  “Think about it,” Cassie said. “Women weren’t allowed to show off their ankles, knees or elbows. That would be an abomination or whatever, so they had to make the effort of wearing a cumbersome gown like this worth the trouble. Not that I’m promoting dressing provocatively, mind you. Not at all, but I find it amusing. Seriously, am I showing anything I shouldn’t?”

  Rebekah shook her head with a small smile. “Stop worrying. Take your own advice about not bending over too far, and you’ll be fine. With your sense of humor, and how beautiful you look, you’re guaranteed to turn a guy’s head.”

  Cassie ignored that comment. As far as she knew, no single men would be in attendance at the party. Only married fathers with tots in tow. Hardly a breeding ground for a potential husband, but that suited her fine.

  Thank goodness, her friends never made her—or any of the other single, female members of TeamWork—feel like the odd woman out. Not that they didn’t introduce her to eligible men at any given opportunity. No matter how many times she protested and told them she didn’t want or need a man, they still kept trying. In a way, it was sweet, but—depending on her mood—their matchmaking ways sometimes irritated her. As if having a man in her life would some
how complete her. If the Lord wanted her to have a man, then He’d good and well bring one in His own perfect timing.

  “I just don’t want to wilt.” Fanning her face with one hand, Cassie squirmed as a trickle of sweat snaked its way down her back. “Who could have guessed it’d be almost eighty degrees the day before Valentine’s Day?” Taking the tissue Rebekah handed to her, she blotted it across her forehead.

  “I know, but remember we had an ice storm a few weeks ago. Anything can happen,” Rebekah said. “Leave it to Lexa to plan such a great event for her twin girls.”

  Cassie laughed and tossed the tissue in a corner trash can. “Hannah and Leah are only a year old. They won’t remember a thing.”

  “But everyone else will, and that’s reason enough. The first birthday is always a good reason for a big party. Besides, it’s also a great excuse to get the TeamWork crew together for a long weekend and mini-reunion. We haven’t all been together as a group since—”

  “Amy and Landon’s wedding eight months ago,” Cassie said. How she knew that off the top of her head was anyone’s guess.

  “Right. Speaking of Amy and Landon’s wedding, did you get to meet her brother, by any chance?” Rebekah’s question seemed too pointed to be random, and she avoided her gaze.

  “Only in passing. I think we exchanged all of two sentences between the rehearsal dinner and the reception. I can’t even remember his name. Matthew? Michael?”

  “Mitchell, and he goes by Mitch.” Rebekah retrieved a plastic bag and pulled out tennis shoes. After crossing the room, she dropped onto the bed. For a woman of her height—five foot ten in her stocking feet—athletic shoes were a sensible choice. At five foot seven, Cassie still needed the added height, and she wore her high-heeled, gold silk pumps—the fanciest shoes she’d ever owned—beneath her gown.