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The Lewis Legacy Series Box Set: 4-in-1 Special Edition Page 35


  Sam raised an eyebrow and grinned. “So, what do you say we go find ourselves a preacher and make this one of the shortest engagements in history? I have a friend who’s ordained and licensed, and I’ve already called him. He can marry us tonight. We can always do a repeat in front of my family and our friends whenever you say. I’ve already told my mom and dad, and they’re thrilled beyond reason that I’m finally taking a wife.” Sam smiled, looking more than pleased with himself. “And Caty and Carson, of course. They’ve all fallen in love with you, too, you know.”

  She hadn’t had a family to call her own in so long, and this day just kept getting better and more promising. “Here? In San Antonio? Tonight?”

  Sam laughed and nibbled her lower lip. “Yes, my love. Right here in San Antonio. Tonight would be spectacular.”

  His hold on her tightened and her heart thundered as she remembered the last time he’d used that word in terms of their relationship. She gulped and almost couldn’t speak. “I hate to bring a hard dose of reality into this conversation, but from what I know, Texas has a three-day waiting period unless you’re active military.” Lexa could barely breathe. Sam wanted to get married tonight?

  “Ah, but there’s a little loophole, you see.” Sam scooted even closer and took her hand in his. “Would you like to hear it?”

  Lexa leaned her head back against the seat. “Of course, I do.”

  “A judge can sign a waiver foregoing the seventy-two hour waiting period, if you can show just cause.”

  “And I suppose you happen to know a judge?” She’d get to the other part of that statement in a moment.

  “My grandfather was great friends with Judge Roy Branford, and I spent many hours in his company when I came to visit Grandpa Lewis here in San Antonio. I saw him late this afternoon, as a matter of fact. He gave us his blessing. Right after he signed the waiver. I have it in the glove compartment under lock and key. He also remembered my grandmother wearing the ring you’re wearing now.” He looked down a moment before meeting her eyes again. “He told me my grandfather would be very proud of me.” Sam’s voice caught. “And he said my grandmother would love knowing my bride would wear this ring.”

  She planted a gentle kiss on his waiting lips. “I’m honored to be your bride, Sam.” She gave him a coy look. “Especially if that means I might inherit your grandmother’s secret peach pie recipe.” She laughed when he winked. “I’m not even going to ask what you said to persuade the kind judge to forego the waiting period. You’re a very inventive and thorough man, Mr. Lewis. Those are very promising qualities.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not all.”

  “I should think not.”

  “You see, I’ve also reserved a room on the Riverwalk the next three days. It’s a honeymoon suite, and I’d really hate to stay there all by my lonesome. Remember when I left you in Houston, I told you I wouldn’t make you wait long.”

  “You’re also very confident, and a man of your word.”

  “It’s a personal Lewis family creed.”

  “I’d say we’re crazy,” Lexa told Sam, “but I’d say it’s about the best thing we can possibly do. After all, I already have the bouquet.” She tossed a glance at the rose garden in the backseat. “The second thing we should do is go car shopping.” Catching the look on Sam’s face, she burst out laughing.

  “What? You don’t want to keep the bomb around . . . for old time’s sake?” He leaned against the seat, shaking his head, feigning sadness. “I thought you’d grown quite fond of it. Or so you said.”

  “I suppose we can keep it around if you absolutely insist.” Lexa wrapped her fingers in his, caressing the side of his hand with her thumb.

  The lazy grin surfaced and those piercing eyes mesmerized hers. “I’m sure we can come up with a compromise. But, surely you jest. One thing I must insist on is that car shopping is not the second thing we do after saying our vows. I suggest we push it further down on the list of things to do. I definitely have more . . . intriguing things in mind.”

  Lexa felt the slow flush all the way from her scalp to her toes. It took a moment to regain her breath in order to speak a coherent word. Clearing her throat, she tugged on his tie and pulled him close. “By the way, that’s a very nice suit you’re wearing. I’d say it’s a gorgeous suit in which to get hitched. You look incredibly handsome, cowboy.”

  “Glad you approve, beautiful girl.” Raising her fingers to his lips again, Sam kissed them with a reverence that stole her breath. “And I can’t help but notice you’re wearing a lovely white dress. It’s almost as though you knew.” His brows rows before another grin surfaced.

  Lexa smiled. “The Lord has blessed us so much, Sam. And I think He has a whole lot more in store, and TeamWork might have something to do with it. I can hardly wait.” Catching the bemused expression on his face, she giggled. “What are you thinking? You’re looking mighty devilish, I must say.”

  He laughed heartily. “I was just thinking, my love . . .”

  “Yes?” Lexa smiled into his eyes. He hovered close in the way she’d adore the rest of her days. His eyes captured hers, drawing her in forever. This man promised her more than yellow roses on anniversaries and whispered sweet nothings in the secret places of her heart. Sam Lewis promised her children, love, and a family to call their very own.

  It was beyond anything she ever hoped to dream. And to think it was all possible because she tried to help others rebuild their dreams. In the process, Lexa found her own. What a wonderful life it promised to be, with him by her side, holding her hand, protecting her, guiding her, loving her.

  Sam planted a tantalizing, exquisite kiss on her lips, full of the promise of blissful things to come. He winked. “Stick around, Lexa. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  THE END

  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.

  Second Time Around is Copyright © 2011 by JoAnn Durgin. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce in whole or in part in any form or medium.

  ASIN: B00HKNFSSE

  All Scripture contained within is from the New American Standard Bible. Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

  By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.

  Cover Design: Dino Piccinini

  Second Time Around

  Book Description

  Marc Thompson is on top of the world—a newlywed with a beautiful wife, the owner of a thriving Boston sports advertising agency, and a century-old home they’re renovating in the suburbs. Then the unthinkable happens. Two months after the wedding, Marc sits in a hospital emergency waiting room after Natalie suffers a horrible fall. One shock follows another. Not only does his wife remember nothing of their life together, but now he has a personal timeline to reconnect with her—seven months.

  Marc’s gold wedding band mocks him, a glaring reminder of a promise broken by a rotting basement stair and his own negligence. His renowned psychologist advises him to court his wife again—a daunting task the first time around. Then Marc’s pastor suggests he call Sam and Lexa Lewis of TeamWork Missions, a ministry dear to Natalie’s heart. Determined to help her reclaim her life, the young groom makes great strides until a ghost from the past surfaces, opening fresh wounds and threatening to destroy it all.

  With Natalie’s trust shattered and Marc’s faith wavering, they head to Milestone Ranch outside Helena, Montana, wi
th TeamWork for a two-week work camp. But instead of romancing his wife in the freezing November temperatures with warm fires and shared sweet moments, he’s out in the cold and back at square one. Even if Natalie recovers her lost memories, will she forgive him? If not, can Marc come to terms with his deepest fear—the failure of his marriage?

  You’ll root for Marc and Natalie as they fight against the odds and discover that surrendering all at the throne of grace doesn’t mean failure. It’s simply called faith. And it might be the only way to finding their way back to one another…the second time around.

  From the Author

  My Dearest Readers,

  Thank you for welcoming newlyweds Marc and Natalie Thompson into your world. The follow-up to Awakening, it features the continuing adventures of Sam Lewis and Lexa Clarke and the TeamWork crew, but Second Time Around also stands on its own. What happens when a newlywed bride loses all recollection of her husband? Based on a “real life” story I heard years ago, the dramatic and romantic possibilities intrigued me. Told primarily from Marc’s viewpoint, it’s an emotional roller coaster as this young couple struggles to find their way back to one another. Marc’s deep passion to regain Natalie’s love and trust, and his desire to be a better man, will capture your heart and mind. Lessons in grace and forgiveness are learned along the way, and their adventures take the reader from Massachusetts to Montana.

  The author’s journey is a fascinating process, and the Lord has blessed me once again by opening the doors of His choosing to make this book a reality. To my family—my world, my everything—I love you and appreciate your many sacrifices.

  To A.P. and Roxanne Fuchs of Torn Veil Books (original publisher of The Lewis Legacy Series), thank you for believing in me and my stories. To Dino Piccinini, thank you for designing another gorgeous book cover.

  To Elaine Marie Cooper and Edwina Cowgill, my dear writer friends, thank you for reading the manuscript and giving me invaluable insights to make it stronger. Thank you to my faithful readers for your support and invaluable encouragement (especially Debbie S., Brandi S., Jude U., Beth V., Cindy R., Kristy C., Wendy S. and Barbara S.), and all my friends, church family, coworkers, and faithful supporters and prayer warriors. Second Time Around would not be possible without each one of you. To my ACFW family of Christian writers, thank you for teaching me so much and encouraging me to always be willing to learn, stretch and grow as a writer.

  One last note: When you reach the point where Marc and Natalie dance together in Montana in Second Time Around, I hope you’ll listen to the lyrics of Steven Curtis Chapman’s sweet and poignant love song, We Will Dance. This is truly the theme song for this special couple as they discover the fragility and blessings of life and love, and how beautiful a marriage can be with Christ at its center.

  Blessings, my friends. Until next time . . .

  JoAnn Durgin

  Matthew 5:16

  Theme Verse in

  Second Time Around

  Hebrews 4:16

  Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace,

  so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

  Chapter 1

  Mid-August, 2000

  It wasn’t the bloodcurdling scream that made Marc’s heart pound. Not even the sickening thud. It was the silence.

  Rushing from the master bedroom on the second floor, he stumbled as he scrambled down the winding servant’s staircase. Calling Natalie’s name, he dashed into the kitchen.

  Nothing.

  “Where are you?” His voice echoed in the cold, eerie stillness of the century-old house. Based on the sounds he’d heard, Marc followed his gut instinct. With a rising sense of dread, he darted toward the open basement door. Switching on the light, he tried to see in the dim light. His eyes focused on something lying prone on the cement floor below.

  Natalie.

  On her stomach—her head turned to the right, arms outstretched—she made no sound, no movement. Marc’s labored breath caught in his throat, and an anguished groan escaped from somewhere deep within. Flying down the stairs, he avoided the splintered step that must have caused her fall. The gaping, jagged hole in the wood mocked him. Cursing it under his breath, he sank to his knees on the hard, cold floor beside his bride. He didn’t know whether he should touch her, but all he wanted was to pull her into his arms and hold her.

  He put two fingers on her wrist. Warm. Beating pulse, but slower than normal. Being careful not to move her neck, he brushed aside strands of silky dark hair as he checked her forehead and then the back of her head. Slight relief radiated through him when he found no bleeding or open head wound. Leaning close, he whispered in her ear. That always tickled and got a rise out of her. “It’s me, Marc. Speak to me, sweetheart.” His heart pumped harder, and prickles of fear pierced him to his core. He reached for her, but lowered his hand to his side. He had to do something to help.

  Managing to run back up the stairs on numb legs, avoiding the splintered step, Marc grabbed the phone from the kitchen wall. His hand shook so much, he almost dropped it. At least all he had to remember was 9-1-1. For a guy who thrived on numbers, he was incapable of anything more. He punched in the numbers, muttering under his breath, shifting from one foot to the other.

  God, don’t take her from me. It wasn’t a request. It was a threat.

  ~~**~~

  Ten minutes later, Marc mumbled halfway coherent answers to the EMT’s questions as they hooked Natalie to several monitors and loaded her into the ambulance. She was stabilized in a viselike contraption, and the words head trauma stuck in his muddled mind. Climbing into the back of the ambulance beside her, he squeezed her hand. Although her fingers were warm, her eyes remained closed, unresponsive.

  “Wake up, Natalie. Please.” Her face, as beautiful as ever, was eerily calm and pale. Almost serene. Even with his limited medical knowledge, he knew every minute could be crucial. He swallowed his anger when the ambulance driver told him there wasn’t enough room for him to ride in the back, and told him which hospital. At least an attendant would be beside her, monitoring and checking vitals. A frantic husband would be bothersome and do more harm than good.

  With no choice in the matter, Marc rushed back into the house and up the stairs to retrieve his keys. Grabbing discarded workout clothes draped over a chair, he pulled them over his sleeping shorts and dashed back down the stairs. He didn’t bother to lock the side door of the kitchen as he flew out of the house. They lived in a safe, upscale suburb with regular patrols. Besides, if anything happened to Natalie, none of their worldly possessions meant a blessed thing.

  The siren blared as the ambulance reached the highway. On autopilot, Marc followed the same stretch of interstate and darkened city streets he traveled nearly every morning to his sports advertising agency in the towering Prudential Center. But this time, his destination was one of Boston’s finest hospitals, hopefully with world-class physicians on duty near midnight on a Friday night.

  Careening into the parking lot like a crazed madman, Marc jerked the silver Lexus to a halt outside the ER doors and jumped out, slamming the door. Even at night, didn’t Boston hospitals have valets? Not a one in sight. For once, he could care less what happened to his new luxury car. Even so, tickets and towing weren’t exactly foreign—the price he sometimes paid for his impatience. He’d deal with it later.

  The ambulance sat nearby, back doors open, but the attendants and Natalie were nowhere to be seen as he rushed toward the sliding glass doors. Why were they so slow to open? “Come on!” Feeling something cold, he glanced at his feet. Great. In his haste, he’d forgotten shoes, but at least he wore socks. Considering he’d been climbing into bed while Natalie retrieved something in the basement, he was thankful he had the presence of mind to pull on the athletic pants and Red Sox T-shirt before jumping in the car. They were newlyweds, after all. Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked hard to keep them at bay.

  Rushing through the door, Marc surveyed th
e quiet ER waiting area. No nurse waited behind the station. Where on earth were they, on a coffee break? “Unbelievable.” His curled fist slammed hard on top of the desk and he tamped down a surge of anger. “I need some help here!”

  Ignoring the stares of the other scattered occupants, a quick glance at the institutional wall clock reminded him it was nearly midnight. He should be home with Natalie, his arms wrapped around her, watching a movie like they usually did on Friday night. His jaw tightened and his fist rose in the air, ready to strike again.

  “Calm yourself down, young man. Pitching a temper tantrum like a three-year-old isn’t helping anyone. Especially you.”

  The clipped tones of a distinctive Bronx accent came from a dour-looking woman who moved at a pace slower than a snail in snow as she made her way toward the desk. Her lips were ruby red, her scrubs covered in a cornucopia of barnyard animals. Marc tapped his foot, chewed the inside of his cheek and counted to at least ten under his breath while she settled her ample frame behind the desk. It rankled to be compared to a three-year-old, but it irritated him even more that she was right.

  “Now, let’s start at the beginning. I take it you’re referring to the young woman they just brought in here. Tell me her name.”

  “You saw her? Was she moving? Talking?”

  Brown eyes peered at him over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses held together by masking tape at the hinges. “Let’s take care of the details, sir, and then we’ll see what we can find out.” The way she said sir sounded less than respectful. Even three-year-olds commanded respect.