Page 44 of Part of Your World

Zane blew out a sigh. "You know I've never thought of her in that way." Even less now that he'd had a glimpse into her unkind spirit. His gaze drifted back to Muriel, a woman patiently exclaiming over a boy's pocketful of treasures, and he smiled.

Muriel turned a questioning glance over her shoulder then shifted her attention momentarily to Constance's retreating back. She retrieved her fallen shawl and brushed the sand from its fringe before draping it over her arm.

"Fletcher, would ye like to meet Mr. Erickson?"

The boy stuffed his shells and other miscellaneous items into his pocket and straightened his posture as he gave Zane a rather thorough inspection. "This yer fella?"

Zane tipped his hat to the boy. "I'd like to be." He strode forward a few steps and extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Fletcher."

"Before I shake yer hand, there's somethin' I gotta ask."

Zane lowered his hand and nodded, his stomach only clenching a little at the boy's piecing gaze. "Go ahead."

"You gonna make Muriel forget her family? I've worked around this place long enough to know the fancy don't take to associatin' with our kind." He jerked his chin in the direction of where Constance had joined the others in front of the bandstand.

"Fletcher!" Muriel took the boy by the shoulder. "That's not proper, now."

"It's all right," Zane said. "I’m happy to answer." He hunkered down in front of the boy. "If your aunt does me the honor of becoming my wife one day, you and your entire family will be welcome in our home anytime. If I'm honest, I'm rather hoping to be welcome in your home as well. I can tell you are all very close. That's the kind of family I want. I'm hoping to learn a thing or two from the Quinns."

Fletcher twisted to quirk a sideways grin at Muriel. "I think he'll do."

She smiled at her nephew then turned her warm gaze on Zane, making his chest grow heavy with longing. "Aye. I think he'll do, too."

Chapter 20

Having arrived late, Muriel took a seat in one of the back pews at Grace Church then slid over to allow room for Zane and Grandpa Clem. Oh, how she'd missed this place! Worshipping the Lord with family and friends. Singing with Brother Crabtree's choir until the sermon, then taking her place in the Quinn family pew, sandwiched between Fletcher and Da. Singing songs she knew, hearing a message she could understand.

Mrs. Underhill had insisted that Muriel cease attending her home congregation while pursuing Zane. If she hoped to impress the Ericksons, she'd have to maintain the appearance of a wealthy daughter boarding at the prestigious Ursuline Academy. So she'd attended Sunday Mass with the rest of the girls the last few weeks. A service conducted completely in Latin. If she had been an actual student of the academy, she would have been trained to understand the liturgy, but since she had no experience with Latin, she'd been utterly lost. Even the music had been different. Chants, mostly. The music contained a simple beauty that her soul appreciated, but without understanding the words, all she could do was hum along and silently compose her own prayerful lyrics.

With her secret now out of the bag, Muriel saw no need to continue pretending to be someone she wasn't. In fact, she planned to ask Da after Sunday lunch if she could move back home.

She spotted his flowing white hair and broad shoulders about six rows in front of her. Her heart ached at the sight. She'd not seen or spoken to him since she'd left for the academy. How she longed for one of his enormous hugs and to see his eyes twinkling as he teased her and called her his little mermaid. Her conscience pinched. The reunion wouldn't be all joy and sunshine, though. Not with the confession she had need of making.

At least they could enjoy Sunday lunch first. Another tradition she'd sorely missed. All the Galveston Quinns crowded around Da's table, food and stories equally plentiful. A ruckus gathering to be sure. Nothing like the formal dinners at Zane's home, with all the forks and etiquette and servants. If you waited for someone to fill your plate at the Quinn house, you'd go hungry. She'd done her best to warn him, but he'd laughed and insisted he was up for the adventure.

Fletcher had promised to warn his mama that there'd be three more for supper. Muriel didn't think Alana would mind having extras at the table, though she did feel slightly guilty about not contributing to the meal. Usually, she and her sister shared the preparation duties, but with Muriel being away on her infamous husband hunt, she'd left Alana with all the cooking and clean-up. That would change today. She might not have been able to bring food, but she still remembered how to wash dishes.

Zane smiled at her as he settled into the pew, and Muriel's heart softened like butter on a windowsill. He was here. Beside her. Accepting her despite her flaws and mistakes. Eager to meet her family. Unconcerned about their differences. Caring only about the love blooming between them. Never had she approached worship with such an abundance of gratitude streaming through her heart.

Her appreciation of grace had deepened of late. When one scampered through life without much consideration of sin, accepting grace was like accepting the swipe of a mother's damp thumb to rub away a smudge of dirt from an otherwise clean face. When one recognized the true ugliness of sin, however, how it hurt others and destroyed trust, one came to see that smudge of dirt for what it really was—an inky tattoo that no amount of scrubbing could remove. Only the miraculous gift of new skin could remove the stain. A gift only possible through Jesus, the one who makes all things new.

As the minister offered an opening prayer, Muriel added a few thoughts of her own.

I'm sorry fer all the trouble I've caused, Lord. I let selfishness guide me steps instead o' seekin' yer wisdom. Forgive me.

It wasn't the first time she'd asked, and in her heart she knew he'd already made her clean. Yet she struggled to forgive herself, especially with the threat to her family still hanging over her head.

Thank ye fer bringin' good out o' the mess I made. Evidenced by the pair of men sitting beside her and the newfound humility residing in her spirit. And help me never again to take yer grace for granted.

When Muriel finally lifted her head, Brother Crabtree had already risen from his place and motioned the choir to stand. He really was a dear man. So patient and encouraging. And talented. His vocals were a mere step above ordinary, but the Lord had gifted him with an ear for creating balance. The choir always sounded better with him at the helm. More harmonious. More blended. More unified. No one voice above the others. She'd taken him for granted, too. Showing up late for practice. Relying on her natural abilities to skirt by. Not respecting his time or the time of the other singers. Not respecting their gifts. And they were gifted. Their harmony reached straight into her soul and drew her heart heavenward.

The congregation joined the choir, and music lifted to the rafters. Zane held an open hymnal in front of her, sharing the music as his tenor voice rose with the chorus.

Muriel didn't need the music. Her heart knew this song. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, ready to sing for the first time in weeks. But emotion clogged her voice, making it impossible to sustain the notes. So she dropped her volume to a mere whisper as her spirit sang for her Savior alone to hear.

"My Jesus, I love thee, I know thou art mine;

for thee all the follies of sin I resign;