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A House Full of Hope
Missy Tippens


Before becoming a Christian, Mark Ryker ran with a bad crowd and broke hearts.Including his father's. Now a successful businessman, Mark has come home to Corinthia, Georgia, to make amends. But no one will forgive him. So when the widowed mother of four renting his dad's run-down house needs help fixing up the place, Mark gets to work.Pretty Hannah Hughes and her sweet kids have him longing to be part of the clan, but Hannah isn't ready to let go of the past. Still, they are working together on a house full of hope—and that's all Mark needs.







From Black Sheep To Father Of Four

Before becoming a Christian, Mark Ryker ran with a bad crowd and broke hearts. Including his father’s. Now a successful businessman, Mark has come home to Corinthia, Georgia, to make amends. But no one will forgive him. So when the widowed mother of four renting his dad’s run-down house needs help fixing up the place, Mark gets to work. Pretty Hannah Hughes and her sweet kids have him longing to be part of the clan, but Hannah isn’t ready to let go of the past. Still, they are working together on a house full of hope—and that’s all Mark needs.


“Let me help clean up,” Mark said, swiping the dishrag from Hannah.

Warmth crept through her, making her want to smile, to stand near him and chat about the day while they worked side by side.

She shook the thought out of her head and busied herself putting away leftovers. The kids played in the next room, leaving Mark and her alone in the kitchen.

Enough.

“My turn.” She tried to take back the dishcloth, and their hands tangled in the soapy water.

“I don’t see how you do it all,” he said.

“It was difficult in the beginning, but I’m getting used to it.”

“Do you ever get lonely?”

“Most of the time I’m too busy to think about it. But sometimes, like on Valentine’s Day, I wish for a knight in shining armor to shower me with flowers and jewels.” Hannah laughed. She felt silly for admitting it. “Dumb, I know. But a girl can dream, can’t she?”

“Not dumb at all. I have a few crazy dreams myself.” Mark stared into her eyes for a moment before glancing away.


A House Full of Hope

Missy Tippens










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

—1 Corinthians 13:13

But because of his great love for us, God,

who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—

it is by grace you have been saved.

—Ephesians 2:4–5


To my children:

Tyler—

my very own budding aerospace engineer

and hero in his own right.

Nick—future earth and ocean scientist

and soon-to-be Duke University graduate!

Michelle—future photographer/interior designer/writer/mother/anything-you-want-to-be

(I’ll adore you no matter what).

Mom is so very proud of all of you.

To God—

Who loves me generously and unconditionally.

Acknowledgments:

A big thank you to Matthew McWhorter

and Amy Hagin for research help—

especially Amy for answering my many

text messages. To Janet Dean for quick reads and spot-on feedback. To Lindi Peterson for friendship and moral support. And to Janet and Lindi for helping me figure out the ending!

Thanks to my wonderful agent, Natasha Kern,

for believing in me.

Thanks to Emily Rodmell, Rachel Burkot and

all the fabulous people at Love Inspired Books

for their hard work and dedication.


Contents

Chapter One (#u6826ac92-028b-51fa-bf20-498f416d8a2b)

Chapter Two (#u76fbb4b8-06a0-5723-b346-563c2a623624)

Chapter Three (#u6331538c-0061-50fc-8b0e-1aa1cbf13b23)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Asking for forgiveness from a man like Redd Ryker was sure to backfire.

But Mark Ryker had returned to Corinthia, Georgia, to apologize to his father anyway. Because God had hit him with conviction far more compelling than any fear of Redd’s reaction.

As Mark traveled through the overarching trees along the long, winding driveway, he recalled the peace it used to give him as a boy. But for several years before he moved away, even the calm, light-speckled green tunnel offered no relief from his grief. From his guilt.

He braked and stared at the house that had sheltered Rykers for generations. He couldn’t believe the poor condition of his dad’s home. Home. Not quite a fitting term for the house during Mark’s teenage years, yet he did have some good memories here.

Memories from before his twin brother, Matt, died.

The overgrown front walk led to a house, once a cheery yellow, which now sat sallow and peeling. The roof needed replacing. When he stepped onto the porch, he found a shutter tilted at an angle, and a screen door that didn’t sit flush. The pair of old rocking chairs, the one place his parents used to seem happy, were mildewed and caked with bird droppings. Why had the old man let the house go? Finances? Lack of interest after Mark’s mother had died?

He blocked the pain that thoughts of his mom dredged up, took a deep, fortifying breath and knocked.

A few seconds later, footsteps approached from the yard. He turned and stood face-to-face with his father. He hadn’t seen the man in fifteen years, and every one of those years was now etched in his craggy face.

Stooped and rail-thin, the man who once intimidated Mark looked far older than his sixty-five years. But the hard golden eyes that perfectly matched Mark’s hadn’t changed a bit. They revealed his anger even while registering shock.

The hope Mark had cautiously nurtured over the past few weeks as he’d prayed and prepared for this moment died a quick death, shoving his stomach to his knees.

His father opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it into a tightly drawn frown, shutting off the words.

The first move would be Mark’s. “Hi, Dad.”

A flash of emotion flickered in the man’s eyes, but then vanished as if snuffed out. “What are you doing here?”

If Mark said he’d found the Lord and had felt led to come, his dad would probably laugh him out of town, or worse, accuse him of sacrilege. “Can I come in for a minute?”

Redd’s eyes flickered to the front door. “I don’t see why you’d show up here in your highfalutin clothes and suddenly need to set foot inside a house you abandoned years ago.” He turned to walk away.

“Dad, please…”

The man Mark remembered as hard and unfeeling paused, his shoulders hunched. Almost as if turning Mark away was difficult.

Mark knew he had to act fast. “I’d like to apologize. For so many things. To—” The words lodged in his throat. Words that were difficult. How could he explain his fierce independence, that he’d stayed away from everyone he cared about, determined to achieve success, to make them proud before he returned? “I need to ask your forgiveness for all the trouble I caused. And for leaving like I did.”

Redd’s gaze locked onto Mark’s and narrowed. “Why now?” The question oozed suspicion as much as venom.

Okay, Lord. Here’s my opportunity. “Because I’ve changed. God has forgiven me, and I’m trying to live a new life.”

For the first time, his dad drew up to his full height and squared his shoulders. “How dare you? Your mother was the finest Christian woman that ever lived. And now you come back here and dishonor her memory, spouting religious mumbo jumbo? What do you really want?”

Though Redd’s reaction was no more than Mark deserved, hurt seeped into his bones, weighing down his limbs. Why had he bothered? “Nothing. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

His dad avoided eye contact and looked somewhere over Mark’s shoulder. “I don’t want no apologies from you. I’m ashamed of you. There’s no fixin’ that.”

The words sliced through him. Though he’d expected this visit to be tough, he hadn’t expected total rejection. “I won’t keep you, then.”

Once his dad stomped away and disappeared into the garage, his escape hampered by a pronounced limp, grief Mark hadn’t anticipated seized him by the throat. He’d caused so much pain. Apologies couldn’t repair the damage.

The old feeling of hopelessness reared its ugly head. A feeling he’d thought he’d put behind him years ago when he’d pulled himself out of the pit of drunkenness and despair. Or rather, when God had used the New Hope Mission to pull him out of the pit—well before Mark had acknowledged the turnaround of his life as God’s work. He’d taken years to grow up to the point he was ready to turn back to God, to invite Him back into his life.

And then it had taken many months before Mark had felt God’s leading to come home and face his past.

But as his dad said, there was “no fixin’” to be done here in Corinthia. Lord, I tried.

He trudged to his rental car and cranked up the air conditioner, wishing he’d formed a backup plan. He’d come all the way from Seattle; he shouldn’t give up after one try. If he stayed around for the weekend, he could find out why the house was in such bad shape.

But he also had to try one more time to talk with his dad. Maybe if he did, he would at least find a measure of peace—if not redemption.



Hannah Hughes loved the new office that came with her recent promotion to bank branch manager. A large wooden desk faced the door, and she’d hung her children’s original artwork on the walls surrounding her. A nice, cozy work space. And though the job demanded more of her time and energy, she appreciated the pay raise that had enabled her to rent a bigger house for her kids. She’d be up to speed on her new duties soon enough.

She turned to her computer, hoping to knock out some of the time-sensitive reports so she’d get off early enough to cook a decent dinner for her kids.

A man’s voice carried across the lobby and in through her open door. His cultured, soothing tone made Hannah relax in her chair as she tried to decipher what he was saying to Amy, their new part-time teller. But something in Amy’s voice put Hannah’s senses on alert.

As she rolled her chair back, a man in sunglasses holding a briefcase stopped in her doorway while Amy, wide-eyed and wringing her hands, peeked around from behind him. “Um, this gentleman is looking for Mr. Jay. I thought maybe you could help him.”

Poor Amy. She was new enough that she must’ve thought the man was a threat.

“Thank you, Amy.” The teller walked away, and Hannah said, “Mr. Jay retired last month. Is there something I can do for you?”

As the man looked around, she cataloged him: six feet tall, wavy dark blond hair, expensive navy sports coat…and maybe a niggling of something familiar?

“Possibly,” he said. “Do you have a moment?”

Hannah calmly stood. “I’m sorry, sir, but could you please remove your sunglasses?”

He slowly reached for them, as if he didn’t realize he had them on. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He tucked them in the pocket of his finely made jacket and looked up.

Those eyes. Such a unique light golden color…cat eyes—the Ryker eyes. Ryker eyes?

She sucked in a breath. Mark.

“May I speak with you privately for a moment—” he glanced at her nameplate “—Ms. Hughes?”

Could this really be the town’s infamous bad boy? He hadn’t been around since he dropped out of high school and ran off—leaving a swath of devastation in his wake. She clenched her fists and forced a pleasant, neutral expression. “Have a seat, Mr. Ryker.”

The unusual yellow eyes narrowed. “You know my name?”

“I recognized the family resemblance.” She motioned toward a chair opposite her desk and sat.

“You’re correct. My name is Mark Ryker. I’m originally from Corinthia but left Georgia years ago. You must know my father, Redd.”

Yes, she did. She’d looked at those same golden eyes nearly every day. The eyes of her landlord.

Hannah tried to maintain her professional face. Not easy when this man, who’d thrown her childhood into chaos, was sitting across the desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ryker?”

“Jason Jay is an old family friend. I had hoped to talk with him about my father’s account. To make sure his finances are in order.”

The man sat there calmly, his striking, larger-than-life presence smacking of arrogance. Though he looked like a successful businessman, that couldn’t change the fact he was the reckless punk who had led Hannah’s sister, Sydney, down a destructive path.

She pushed away the memories and checked the churning knot of anger to get to the task at hand.

“May I ask why?” Though his intentions weren’t any of her business, she felt protective of her kind landlord.

Just as Mark opened his mouth to answer, Police Chief Gabe Reynolds stepped into her office, his dark hair windblown. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were busy.” He eyed her customer.

“Hello, Chief Reynolds,” she said. “We’ll be through soon. Can you come back in a bit?”

Mark didn’t turn around. He sat still, as if he wished Gabe would go away.

Seconds ticked by as Gabe eyed the back of Mark’s head. “I see the rental car out front. You new to town or just visiting?” His amiable smile faltered the longer Mark sat without speaking.

Then Mark sighed, although Hannah didn’t actually hear a sound. It was more like he simply deflated. “Yes, Officer. I’m here on bank business,” he said, while turning his head slightly toward Gabe to acknowledge the man’s presence without actually showing his face.

He’s trying to hide his identity.

Gabe wasn’t having any of that. He walked around to the side of her desk to face Mark head-on, and Hannah wanted to cheer.

The weasel was forced to stand and look Gabe in the eye. “Hello, Gabe.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe who he was seeing. “Mark? Mark Ryker?”

Mark offered his hand. “Yes, in the flesh.”

Gabe didn’t hesitate to shake his hand, but he didn’t offer a smile and a clap on the back like he might do for someone else who’d returned after so many years. “So, what brings you home?”

Mark glanced at Hannah. “Banking business.”

“Well, I’ll let you two get back to it. I hope you’ll stop by and see your dad while you’re here.” She heard the challenge in Gabe’s seemingly innocent comment.

“I already have. But I’d like to keep my business at the bank private. I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention it to anyone—especially my father.” Mark’s manner bordered on threatening.

Or maybe desperation disguised as threat?

“Okay. As long as you’ll promise me you’re not here to hurt Redd.”

Pain flashed in Mark’s eyes, but his expression didn’t change. “Of course I’m not here to hurt him.”

Gabe seemed to accept Mark’s word and left her office with a nod and a wave.

Once he was seated again, Mark pinned Hannah with his feline stare. “I need to know you’ll keep my visit confidential.”

Drawn to those scary yet beautiful eyes, like she had been years ago, she couldn’t have looked away if she tried. “As long as you mean no harm.”

That same pain flashed once again before he looked away. “I noticed my father’s house in a state of disrepair and wanted to inquire about possible financial troubles.”

Hannah’s face burned. Redd had told her he was renting out the place because he didn’t want to live alone in such a big home. She’d tried to overlook the condition of the house, assuming he’d been too busy running his hardware store to handle repairs. But now she had to wonder about Redd’s motivation.

Had he moved into the garage apartment so he could earn money by renting the main house? “I’m afraid I can’t share any information about your father’s accounts unless your name is on them.”

“Mr. Jay has done so in the past. I used to check in with him about once a year to make sure my father didn’t need any financial help.”

“And what about his well-being? Did you inquire about that, too?” she sniped before she could stop herself. She held up her hand to hold off an answer. She didn’t even want to know. Didn’t want to spend another minute dealing with this man. “Again, I’m not authorized to divulge account information.”

Mark’s jaw twitched as if he were grinding his teeth back and forth. “Thank you for your time.”

She took his outstretched hand and forced herself to look into his face—his too-handsome face, a scar near the left eyebrow the only thing marring its perfection. She hated to continue the conversation but needed to know his plans so she could make sure to avoid him.

“Will you be staying with your dad while you’re visiting?”

She thought for a minute that he might laugh, but then she realized it was a grimace. “No. I guess I’ll need you to point me to a hotel.”

From the look of him, he liked nice things. He might not appreciate their little motel over by the lake. “The Cardinal Motel is still here. Or the Gunters opened a new B and B not far from your dad’s house.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hughes. I’ll try the B and B.” He stared at her a moment. “You look familiar. Is Hughes your married name?”

“Yes.” Part of her wanted to ignore the questions and hurry out of her office. But another part wanted to tell him her maiden name. To see if he even remembered ruining her sister’s life.

She chose the latter. “I’m Hannah Williams Hughes.”

He sucked in a breath, then quickly closed his mouth.

Oh, yes. He definitely remembered. Not that his remembering could change a thing for Sydney.



Stunned, Mark stared at Hannah Williams. He couldn’t believe God had led him back to Corinthia to make amends, then tossed a Williams into the mix the moment he hit town.

Dealing with Hannah would make his job that much more difficult. “Good to see you again, Hannah.” A rote reply, even though he’d rather be anywhere but talking to Sydney’s sister.

She didn’t return the sentiment. She simply brushed past him and walked out of her office. “I’ll see you to the door.”

He followed as she marched across the high-ceilinged lobby, the click of her high heels echoing off all the marble. She was trim, but the boxy skirt and fitted jacket couldn’t hide her curvy figure. How could he have not recognized her vivid green eyes?

She’d been a pesky middle-schooler when he’d dated Sydney. Had worn dark-framed glasses back then and had been serious, studious. She used to stare at him—until he’d finally asked her why. She’d blushed and claimed she wasn’t staring. After that, she didn’t hang around often. Acted scared of him.

Which was smart. All girls should have stayed away from him at the time.

At the front of the lobby, she held the door open for him. Her expression, cool and closed, said his actions had not been forgiven or forgotten over the past fifteen years. Apparently, his father wasn’t the only one holding a grudge. He would need to make amends with the Williams family, as well. A daunting task.

But obviously, God expected it.

“The B and B is a couple of miles out, on the left, heading to your dad’s house. Is there anything else you need?” Hannah asked from her post as bank bouncer, her tone dismissive.

If only he could just thank her and head out the door, straight back to Seattle. You can do this with God’s help. “No, thanks.”

Hannah, as pretty as she was, glared at him, her anger evident. “Enjoy the visit with your dad.”

He gave her a smile that used every last ounce of energy, then slipped his sunglasses back into place.

An ache tore through his chest as he concealed his Ryker eyes. It would be best to remain anonymous since everyone else in town would probably feel the same way Hannah did. The way his dad did.

Redd would never welcome him back. Would never forgive him for all the hurt he’d caused when he left town. Lord, help me to make amends while I’m here. And if it’s not too much to ask, please enable those I’ve hurt to forgive me.

Even if Mark could somehow prove God had changed him, that he’d grown up to make something of his life, he knew he was after the impossible. Because the fact still remained: Mark was responsible for his twin brother’s death. His dad would never forgive him for that.


Chapter Two

That evening, Hannah drove to pick up her four children at her mother’s duplex apartment not far from the bank. Their daily stampede to the front door to greet her never failed to lighten the stress of the day. Even the stress of facing Mark Ryker. They’re such a joy, Lord. Thank You.

Donna eyed her from head to toe, as if taking inventory. “Hello, Hannah. Rough day?”

Obviously, she looked harried. “A little.”

Without a hair out of place, Donna directed the kids to gather their belongings, which sat neatly packed by the front door. Always a bundle of energy, she didn’t look like a woman who’d watched a house full of kids for nine hours. Even her hazel eyes seemed bright, not tired. The woman was amazing. Only the streaks of silver at her temples and scattered through her brown hair gave away the fact that she was a grandmother.

“Come on, kids. I imagine you’re hungry.”

Donna smoothed Tony’s hair. “You know good and well their nana wouldn’t let them leave hungry.”

“We had a snack,” the twins called in unison.

She thanked her mother for babysitting and hurried them to the car. She made sure all four were buckled in her minivan and then she drove toward home.

“There’s our old house,” Becca said, same as she did every day, as they approached the apartment complex they’d called home for the past seven years.

Hannah looked in the rearview mirror and discovered Becca, with her dark pigtails and pink-framed glasses, staring out the window. “Yes. Do you miss it?”

“I do,” Tony said. Her child who didn’t like change. Who hadn’t wanted to move so far from his nana.

“Not me,” Becca said. “I like having my own room.”

She slowed as they passed. So many memories at that apartment, good and bad…

Memories of Anthony and her moving in when Becca was a toddler and Tony was a baby. Tony taking his first steps across the kitchen floor. The surprise of another pregnancy. Bringing home the twins to a too-small apartment. Struggling through those early days with no sleep and tons of bottles and diapers. Trying to make sure Tony and Becca got enough attention while taking care of newborns. Watching her husband, Anthony, drag in the door each evening, worn-out from working overtime to support their expanding family.

Anthony getting more and more tired. To the point he could hardly work. Then those life-altering words from her husband’s mouth: “I have cancer.”

That simple sentence reverberated through her mind as if he’d uttered it just yesterday. Hannah stifled a sob and beat back the grief that clawed and left her raw inside. Grief that could suck her under its dark, smothering weight if she let it. No time right now. Too much to do.

She closed the door on the painful memories and forced herself to look ahead. She had four beautiful children who were her world. And she had finally provided them the spacious house she and Anthony had always wanted for them.

Lots of space to run and play. Five bedrooms—one each. A huge kitchen with a table big enough to hold everyone plus friends and family. A room with lots of shelf space, the perfect library for nine-year-old Becca and her precious books. A barn and woods for seven-year-old Tony to explore. And a brand-new swing set she’d bought on layaway for six-year-old Emily and Eric.

She turned to look at four smiling faces in the back of the van. Sweet faces that never failed to lift her spirits. Their unconditional love was the only thing that had kept her going the past two years, that had given her the strength to start this new phase of their lives. “Well, our new home is working out well.”

Becca pushed her glasses higher up on her nose, her big brown eyes wide with wonder. “I wish Nana would babysit us at our new house. There’s so much new territory to explore, so much to show her.”

Since Becca’s nose was always in a book, particularly of the Nancy Drew mystery variety, Hannah had no doubt the old farmhouse had opened up a whole new world for her daughter. But Hannah’s mother refused to set foot on Ryker property. “We’ll see.”

As she drove away from downtown Corinthia, the courthouse and storefronts shrinking in her rearview mirror, Hannah imagined she could breathe more deeply. Along the ten-minute drive, homes grew farther apart, and the landscape changed to pastures dotted with cows or horses and the occasional farmhouse.

When she reached Redd Ryker’s mailbox, she turned onto their property and glanced at the dashboard clock. Mark’s visit, and the fact that he’d left her stewing, had put her behind all day long.

“Since it’s so late, how about I make frozen pizza for dinner?”

Squeals and clapping hands rattled her brain as she wound along the dirt-and-gravel road for about a hundred yards. Trees arched over the drive from each side, forming a canopy dappled with the evening sunlight. The tranquility even managed to quiet the kids.

“I love this part,” Tony whispered.

They entered the clearing, and the house came into sight. The squeals and clapping began anew.

“Can I play outside?” Emily begged.

“Me, too?” Eric added as he unbuckled and tried to climb over Emily to get out first. He could never let Emily do something before he did.

“For about a half hour.” Hannah pointed to the left side of the house toward the garage apartment where Redd lived. “Y’all play in the side yard or out back in case Mr. Redd drives up. Be sure to stay out of the way.”

“Okay, Mommy!” Emily yelled as the four escaped from the van to play under the huge live oak tree towering over the freestanding two-story garage. Hannah unlocked the front door, stepped inside and nearly tripped over boxes that still needed unpacking.

Two weeks since they moved, and she’d barely made a dent in the number of boxes. But with her job and the kids home for the summer, she could hardly find time to cook and do the laundry. Unpacking had to be done in bits and snatches.

She went to turn on the oven to preheat, then plopped down on a box marked Hughes—kitchen.

Though she was thrilled to have the house, disappointment nibbled at her joy. She had hoped to build her dream home, a haven for her and the kids, and to finally experience the security of owning a home. But once the medical bills and funeral expenses had been paid, the insurance money was nearly gone. Anthony had made the mistake of procrastinating on increasing his policy once the children were born.

We’re young and healthy, he’d said. We need the money for groceries.

And, foolishly, she hadn’t insisted he rectify the situation. Now, all she’d been able to afford was a larger rental property. Home ownership would have to come later.

She opened the box she’d been sitting on and dug to find the round baking sheet. After washing it, she pulled the pizza out of the freezer and popped it into the oven.

The kitchen was slowly looking homier. At least now they didn’t have to squeeze into a three-bedroom apartment, and once school started in the fall, they wouldn’t be stepping all over each other as they got ready for work and school in the mornings. Even if the Ryker house didn’t belong to them, it was still theirs for the time being.

As long as Mark didn’t cause a problem.

The front door banged open, and Becca barreled into the room, winded. “Can we let Blue out of his pen?”

She smiled at her precious daughter, who’d begged for a pet for the past three years. Redd’s dog, a sweet and endlessly patient black Labrador retriever, had been almost as big a draw as the house. “You sure can.”

As Becca zipped back outside with an echoing whoop of joy, worry crept over Hannah. What if Mark had come home to stake a claim? She looked around a room where Mark and his brother, Matt, would have eaten their meals with friends and family.

What if Mark suddenly had an interest in the family home?

Hannah knew she would do whatever she had to do to keep her kids happy.



Since Hannah had thwarted Mark’s plan to check into his dad’s financial state, on Saturday morning he decided to return to the house and do a closer inspection. To estimate the cost of needed repairs.

He’d assumed Redd would be at the hardware store, but an unfamiliar green minivan sat parked out front. The truck he’d seen the day before was gone. He should probably knock before walking the property. In case his dad was there. And if he was…

Well, Mark would try once again to apologize.

This time, he looked more closely as he inspected the dirty front porch that fronted three sides of the old home. When he reached the far corner, he caught himself grabbing for the cobweb-covered broom as if he were still ten years old. Sweeping the porch had been his and Matt’s job—a chore they’d deemed too girly.

He smiled at the memory, yet being on their old stomping grounds intensified the emptiness that never quite left him.

Matt, who’d suffered mild brain damage at their birth, hadn’t been as strong and healthy as Mark. Mark had always tried to include him, though. But one day when they were fifteen, and their dad shooed them from the hardware store, Mark talked Matt into going fishing on the lake. Into taking out their dad’s boat, knowing good and well they weren’t supposed to go alone…knowing Matt couldn’t swim.

As he turned away from the broom and faced the front door, he doubted his sanity. Only a glutton for punishment would return to this house again. We are more than conquerors through Him who loved us, he reminded himself, a Bible verse he had clung to for years.

He raised his fist to knock, but something tugged on his pant leg.

“Hi, Mister.” A little boy about five or six years old stared up at him with big brown eyes. “Are you looking for Mommy?”

After a glance around the porch and yard, he squatted down to the child’s level. “No. I’m looking for my, uh…” daddy? “…father.”

All business, the boy crossed his arms and seemed to ponder the situation. “You look kinda old to be lost.”

Trying to match the boy’s expression, Mark stifled a laugh. But then sobered when he realized how close to home the boy had hit. “Actually, this is my house. My dad lives here.”

The kid shook his head. “You really are lost. ’Cause this is my new house.”

Laughter sounded somewhere off to the side of the house. Then three children appeared around the corner, chattering. One by one, they stopped talking when they saw Mark.

Only the youngest girl approached and tromped up the steps. “Who are you?”

“He’s lost,” the first boy said, as if imparting the juiciest of secrets.

“Lost?” The oldest girl hurried up the steps and scrutinized Mark. “How exciting.” Large brown eyes that matched the youngest boy’s widened. She peered at him from behind pink, sparkly plastic-rimmed glasses. “I can help. I’m good at solving mysteries.”

A bush swished as the last child—a boy somewhere between the oldest and younger two in age—kicked around the overgrown shrubbery, ignoring the investigation on the porch.

Mark turned back to the others. “Actually, I’m looking for my dad, Redd Ryker. He lives here. And you are…?”

“My children.”

Mark turned and found Hannah Hughes behind the screen door. Inside his family home. She looked even less friendly than yesterday.

“See, I told you this was my house,” the youngest boy said.

Hannah stepped outside, and as the door swung open, Mark caught a glimpse of boxes in the entryway. As if someone was moving.

He pointed to the boxes. “What’s going on?”

“Kids, go wash up. There’s a snack on the table.”

Once they’d scampered into the house, Hannah turned back to him. “We’re renting from your father.”

Incredulous, he sputtered, “That can’t be. My dad would never rent this place. It belonged to his grandfather.” And was Mark’s home, even if he hadn’t set foot in it for years.

A sudden longing to be close to his mom again made it difficult to speak. He wanted to go inside, see what had become of his old bedroom. Of his spot at the kitchen table. Of his mother’s things.

Hannah looked away, almost guiltily. “Apparently, he’s decided he doesn’t need such a big house and prefers to live in the garage apartment.”

The garage? No matter how badly Mark had wronged this woman’s family, he couldn’t let her run all over his family. “Look at this place. It’s run-down. My guess is you took advantage of his financial difficulties.”

There it was again—a flash of guilt. “We simply responded to an ad in the newspaper.”

He took a step closer and stared into her eyes. They were a beautiful, pure green and couldn’t hide a thing. “Now I understand why you wouldn’t give me information about Dad’s finances at the bank yesterday.”

He had to give her credit. She didn’t back down. No, she actually leaned in closer. “I told you. I don’t have authorization to divulge information on your father’s accounts.”

“Accounts, plural? Maybe including a line of credit?”

Her face revealed a flicker of something he took as confirmation before she turned away. “I need to go check on the kids.”

“I see you’re not settled yet. I suggest you and your husband wait to unpack. Before I leave town, I’d like to know that all Dad’s finances are in order and he’s back in his home.”

“I have a signed contract that says we’re staying.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.” As he strode to the garage, he promised himself he’d get to the bottom of the situation. If his dad was in the bind he suspected, then Mark had to make sure he was financially secure. Redd might refuse to speak to him, but surely he wouldn’t refuse help. Mark would park himself in the garage if he had to, until his dad listened to reason.

He banged on the upstairs apartment door. But of course, there was no answer. Redd would be at the hardware store, probably all day.

He plopped down on the top of the steep outside stairs and leaned his forearms on his knees. He’d come home to apologize. That was it. To say he was sorry, have his dad pronounce forgiveness, and then head back to Seattle.

And now he’d found the man in a mess.

Well, Mark had nothing to do with the situation, so he could just run by the store and apologize one more time. Then be on his way.

But a nudge in his gut—the same one he’d trusted when he’d come here in the first place—told him he needed to see this through.

He opened his cell phone to two measly bars of service and managed a staticky call to his assistant. He informed her of his change of plans.

In several years, Redd would be facing retirement. He should be able to sell his store and live in comfort—not in some apartment over the garage.

It might take Mark two or three days, but he would not leave town until he knew his dad was okay financially and settled back in his home. He owed him that much.



“I found him first.”

“Uh-uh. We all found him together.”

Hannah stepped between the twins, their riotous wavy hair adding to the sense of perpetual energy and motion that surrounded them.

“No one found Mark. He wasn’t even lost. He was here to see Mr. Redd.” She pointed both children toward their new bedrooms. “Now, no more arguing. I switched the schedule to have this Saturday off work so we could do some more unpacking.”

Becca whooped from her room across the upstairs hallway, the sound bouncing off the hardwood floors and high ceilings. The only drawback to a larger, older house was how noise carried. And boy, did her family produce noise.

“I’ll help each of you arrange your room the way you want it,” Hannah said. “Eric, you first.”

Eric huffed and pointed at Emily. “No fair. She’ll get to play longer while I have to do chores.”

“No more arguing. Get to work.”

Tony stuck his head out his door. “When’s Nana going to come see my new room?”

The child loved his grandmother, even with her faults—one of which was holding grudges. She was furious Hannah had moved into a house owned by those Rykers. All these years later, Donna refused to associate with Redd, even though he’d had nothing to do with his son’s behavior.

“I don’t know, sweetie. I’ll be sure to invite her again, though.”

Tony, named for his father, was the only one of the four with Hannah’s green eyes. He was also the most sensitive. Hannah worried that her mom’s refusal to come around would end up hurting him.

Of course, Mark showing up would not help one bit. Maybe Hannah could invite Nana out for the following week—well after Mark headed back to whatever rock he’d climbed out from under.

Those green eyes peeked around the door again. “Will you call her now?”

She knelt down in front of him and gently caressed his face. “Of course. Now, go figure out where you want to store your rock collection.”

As he hurried to obey, she went downstairs to call her mother from the phone in the kitchen, in case they ended up arguing.

Donna Williams picked up on the fourth ring. “Terrible timing, Hannah. I’m trying to get—” she grunted “—a pound cake into the oven.” A thump like an oven door closing rattled over the phone. “Of course, if I wasn’t on the bereavement committee at church, I wouldn’t be doing this. But how could I say no when Ann called me directly with a request for one of my pound cakes?”

If Hannah just sat quietly, she suspected her mother could carry on a whole conversation by herself. Someday, she might test the theory. “So who’s the cake for?”

“The Smith family. Maude died.” The sound of water running blasted in the background. “And you can imagine how it burns me up to have to do something nice for that no-good daughter of hers. Frederica tormented you in second grade. You almost had to change schools. But, well, your daddy refused to move and instead taught you how to fight.”

Yes, her mother still held a grudge against a second-grader who was now thirty years old. Hannah nearly laughed at the memory and made a mental note to give her dad, now remarried and living in Colorado, a call. She and her dad had often made her mother furious.

“Well, I survived. And speaking of moving…”

Banging of dishes continued. “No. I will not babysit out there.”

“Come on, Mom. It’s been two weeks, and the kids are dying to show you around.”

“Why couldn’t you just buy a nice little house in town? Or if you had to move out there to the boondocks, why not rent from someone else? Anyone but those Rykers.”

Hannah shook her head. Donna had always said the name with disdain. And she never used their first names. She lumped father and son together and deemed them both bad news.

Of course, Mark Ryker had turned their world upside down when he started dating Sydney. He’d had a reputation for being wild, and when Sydney began coming in at night with alcohol on her breath, their mom had tried her best to end the relationship.

But by then, Sydney was in love. Or so she had claimed. Hannah had always suspected she enjoyed hanging around a guy who was fun and easygoing like their dad—and not a bit like Mom.

“Mom, I’m not going to debate my decision with you. But I would like to invite you for dinner next week. Tony keeps asking when you’ll come see his bedroom.”

She harrumphed. “Well, you’re not going to catch me setting foot on those Rykers’ property. Tell Tony he’s welcome to come here anytime he wants to see his nana.”

Don’t say it, Hannah. Be calm. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi…

“Hannah, are you still there?”

“Yes.” But she might have to bite her tongue off. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. She took a calming breath. “Please come out here one day next week to watch the kids. Redd will be at work. You won’t run into him.”

“Hannah, I warned you when you first looked at that house. You’re just going to have to bring them to my house on your way to the bank each day. And snap some photos of Tony’s room.”

Once Donna Williams made up her mind, no one could reason with her. Hannah should be grateful she had free child care with a loving family member. But she did worry about her mother’s attitude rubbing off on them.

“I guess I have no other choice.”

“I’m sorry. But I will stand firm. Now, I’ll see you at church tomorrow.”

Yes, as much as she’d love to take another day to finish unpacking and get settled, she didn’t want to miss the service.

Of course, if Mark had his way, she should keep the last of their belongings boxed up. He might, at that very moment, be talking his dad into forcing Hannah and her children out.

She gripped her aching stomach—a two-year-long side effect of chronic worry since Anthony’s death. Worry about letting her children down. About not providing well enough on her own—emotionally or financially. What if one of the kids got injured or seriously ill? Or needed braces? What if she got injured or seriously ill, or lost her job? Or if a landlord decided to kick them out?

All the more reason to stick to her plan to eventually own a home. She wouldn’t have to be at the mercy of a landlord. At the mercy of someone else to repair the property—or not. At the mercy of some man who could pop into town after fifteen years to try to ruin the life of another Williams sister.

But home ownership was years down the road. For now, she needed this house that she and the kids had grown to love. If Mark thought she would give it up without a fight, he was sadly mistaken.


Chapter Three

After a Saturday-afternoon attempt—and failure—to speak with Redd, Mark knew it was sunglasses-off time. No matter what happened with his relationship with his father, he had to let the town of Corinthia know that Mark Ryker was a changed man. And that he owed that change to the grace of God.

So on Sunday morning, he put away the sunglasses and donned the one suit he’d packed—more out of habit than because he thought he’d need it. He drove his rental car to the small church his mom had dragged Mark and Matt to when they were children.

Growing up, their dad had worked all the time and their mother had taken charge of raising the kids and seeing to their religious upbringing. Of course, Matt, the sweet, obedient child, had gone to church willingly. Mark had been another story.

He hoped his mother was looking down from heaven, seeing that her insistence and persistence had given him a foundation to fall back on years later, after his life fell apart. After he hit rock bottom and realized he could either die, or he could ask for help to climb out from under the guilt, anger and self-destructive behavior.

As the church came into sight, the thought of how far he’d come nearly overwhelmed him. He blinked back tears and, for probably the thousandth time, thanked God he hadn’t gotten addicted to the alcohol he’d used to numb the pain. And that he’d hit bottom while at the New Hope Mission. With God’s help, the staff and volunteers at the shelter had saved Mark’s life.

The white steeple of the Corinthia Church loomed bright and welcoming. Mark parked and approached the old redbrick building. As he walked in the door, the organist struck up the hymn “Amazing Grace.”

How appropriate. He had to smile at God’s sense of humor. With that smile locked in place, he searched for familiar faces.

Of course, the first person he saw was Hannah with her four children. And another woman beside her who—

He stopped in his tracks, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. The woman was Hannah’s mother, Donna Williams.

Hannah didn’t look up. She was busy whispering—fussing over the two youngest kids. As he forced himself to continue down the aisle, he vaguely noted neither husband had attended. He would need to make time to speak with Donna, to apologize to her, as well. Maybe after the service.

As if Donna were a bloodhound smelling trouble, she looked right at him. It took her about two heartbeats to recognize him, but then her eyes flared wide. She froze in place, staring, her eyes lasering fury his direction. Her face reddened, and he feared she might explode with a torrent of words. Words she’d probably wanted to say to him years ago.

He moved on, hoping to avert a scene with Donna. When he glanced to the right, old Mr. Jay from the bank gave a polite nod. Then Mark spotted his dad up front in what used to be his mom’s favorite spot, next to the organ. So he has come around and now attends church. This eased some of Mark’s fears, and he started down the aisle toward Redd.

But about halfway, he stopped. What was he thinking? This was not the setting to approach his dad again. He would embarrass him. So he turned to the back to find a seat.

A dumb move that meant he had to face everyone he’d passed.

Gabe Reynolds, who’d gone to high school with Mark, sat with a teenage girl and a woman Mark didn’t recognize. The woman, pretty, pregnant and apparently his wife, smiled kindly. Gabe merely nodded.

Two rows farther, Miss Ann Sealy, one of his favorite people from Corinthia, sat with a young man who looked familiar. Maybe her grandson. She waved but had a blank look, as if trying to place him. He’d thought of all the people in town, she would’ve been the one to give him a profuse welcome.

His chest tightened as he realized how few people would even know him now. And of those who did, how they might view him with distrust.

Shame scalded Mark’s face as he searched for the closest available seat. As he was sitting, he heard a commotion—Donna yanking her purse off the pew and stomping toward the door. Right before she exited, she glared at him.

After the door banged closed, he couldn’t help but look at Hannah. She stared after her mother, mouth covered, eyes wide. When she turned to him, her hand dropped and eyes narrowed. Her scowl said she blamed him for the outburst. He could imagine her thoughts. How dare you darken the doors of our church?

Well, the Williamses had spoken. Mark figured others might also. Probably wouldn’t matter that he was a new creature in Christ. How could the people of Corinthia ever see beyond the reckless boy who’d caused his brother’s death, hurt Sydney Williams and then skipped town?

He tried to focus on the service, but couldn’t get beyond the fact he was an outsider in his own hometown and might never be able to make amends. Yet God’s Word and the music penetrated the worry. He eventually relaxed into the pew, felt God’s peace wash over him. This was where God wanted him. He wouldn’t give up.

After the service, Mark strode toward the front to catch his dad before he left. When Mark reached the end of the pew, he waited for Redd to look up, to ask him to sit so they could talk. Who was he kidding? His dad raised his chin and stared straight ahead.

May as well have slapped up a sign that said Not Welcome Here. Still, he had to take a chance. “I’m glad you’re attending church, Dad. Mom would be pleased.”

Redd grabbed the pew in front of him for support as he stood. Then he looked at Mark with utter scorn. “Your mother and I worshipped together here for years. But then, you wouldn’t know that, would you?” He limped away, his squared shoulders a shield against his wayward son.

The jab hurt. Physical pain knifed Mark’s chest.

No, he wouldn’t have known that. And he would regret it the rest of his life. Would regret that he hadn’t come home sooner. That he hadn’t come before his mom died.

He rubbed his chest, trying to ease the pressure. Don’t go there. Think of the future.

Of course, he had no idea how to approach his father again in that future. Maybe the pastor could help. While Mark waited for the crowd to thin, he shook a few hands, drawing encouragement.

Miss Ann approached with a grin on her face. “Welcome home, Mark.” She’d aged over the years, but her sky-blue eyes and extreme Southern drawl hadn’t changed a bit. “You caught me by surprise this morning. Didn’t recognize you at first.”

“Thanks, Miss Ann. It’s good to be here.” An exaggeration. But it was nice to be following God’s lead for a change.

“If you don’t have plans for lunch, please join me and my grandson, Daniel.” She pointed across the room at the man who’d been sitting with her. Then she puffed out her chest proudly. “He came to visit me this weekend and to meet with Pastor Phil. He’s graduating from seminary soon.”

“I wish him well.” Touched by her kind invitation, he considered it briefly. But he had business to attend to. “I’d love to have lunch, but I need to speak with the pastor myself.”

“Oh, you’ll like Phil. He’s been here a few years and is a good counselor.” She suddenly reached out and hugged him. “You take care, now. Your mama would be so happy to see you at church.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the same sweet perfume his mom had always worn—White Shoulders. Sudden tears stung the back of his eyes. He pulled away, cleared his throat. “Thanks, Miss Ann.” He waved and hurried outside. No use in letting memories get him all choked up. No time for regrets, for worrying about something he couldn’t change.

“Good to have you with us today.” The pastor, who looked to be in his late forties with graying temples and a few smile lines around his eyes, stood alone on the church steps wiping perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief. He tucked it in his pocket and held out his hand. “I’m Phil Hartley.”

“Nice to meet you, Reverend Hartley. I’m Mark Ryker.”

“Oh, I see the likeness to Redd.” Kind eyes encouraged Mark to speak up. It was as if the pastor could tell he’d been hanging around. “Please call me Phil.”

“Thanks, Phil. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. Let’s get out of this hot sun and go to my office.” He led the way through the sanctuary and along a hallway decorated with kids’ artwork, all centered on the theme of Jonah and the big fish. Apparently, the church still held vacation Bible school in the summer.

A sudden memory of arguing with his mother about helping with Bible school made him cringe. He’d told her he and Matt would rather work with their dad at the hardware store than with those wild kids.

She’d seemed hurt but had relented.

If only he’d known then what that rebellion would cost. If only he’d known how a rickety fishing boat capsizing in a pathetically small lake could change his family forever.

“Have a seat.” Phil gestured to a grouping of three chairs set up in the corner of the room, obviously for meetings or counseling sessions.

“I won’t keep you long. But I need a favor.” He proceeded to tell Phil a little about his family background.

“You had a twin who died?” Phil’s head tilted as if he was confused. Apparently, no one had ever told him the story.

Mark nodded. “It was my fault. I took him fishing, the two of us alone, knowing he couldn’t swim. He died of complications from the near-drowning.”

Pain filled Phil’s eyes, and it caused an echoing pain in Mark. “Oh, man. I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t talked about this in years. Had to force words that didn’t want to come. “My parents tried not to blame me. But I knew they did. And I buried the pain with alcohol. With rebellion. And unfortunately, dragged Sydney Williams into it.”

“So that’s the reason for Donna Williams’s animosity toward Redd?”

With a wince, he confirmed it. “We started dating, and her family wasn’t happy about it. I admit I’d fallen into a bad group of friends. Tried to pull her away from them when I saw she had a drinking problem. But it was too late.”

“So what happened?”

“I ran. Just wanted to escape it all. Took off and didn’t look back for years.” By the time he tried to make contact, his mother had died. Too little, too late. The story of his life.

His old life.

Mark forced the corners of his mouth upward. “But I’m in a better place now. Found God again. And felt led to come home to make amends.”

“Did you and your parents ever make peace?”

“No. Now Mom is gone. Dad won’t speak to me. And—” He snapped his mouth shut before he broke down and embarrassed himself.

With fingers steepled under his chin, Phil nodded. “So you’ve tried to apologize to your dad?”

“Yes. I’m here because I need your help in reaching him.”

Phil leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. “I know Redd’s a stubborn man, but I think he’ll come around.”

Mark’s dad had always been stubborn. Stubbornly driven to build his hardware business. Stubbornly driven to punish Mark for Matt’s death. “In case he doesn’t, I want to at least help him financially. Did you know he’s renting out his house to the Hughes family?”

“Yes. Also heard he’s in a bit of a financial pinch. His store has had a rough time since the mega home- improvement store opened up not twenty miles from here.”

Oh, man. He hadn’t heard that news. “I’d like to make a deposit to his checking account. But I’m afraid Hannah Hughes will balk. She seems protective of him and…well…she doesn’t think much of me.”

“I don’t know how I can help. We’ve already tried to give him assistance after his hip surgery, and he was offended.” Phil shook his head. “Yet Redd’s continued to donate funds to our youth program even as he’s struggled.”

Out of nowhere, Mark’s throat constricted. It seemed he didn’t know his dad at all anymore. Had God changed Redd, too?

“Stubborn, proud man.” Mark stood and walked across the office to stare at a painting on the wall—more to distract himself than to admire the art. “If I give you cash, could you take it to the bank, tell Hannah you’ve received an anonymous donation and ask her to deposit it into his checking account?”

“No harm in trying.”

The tension that had invaded Mark’s shoulders the moment he’d approached his dad that morning eased away on a big exhaled breath. He turned back to face the pastor. “Thanks, Phil.”

“This is generous of you, you know. I hope your dad realizes the man you’ve become.”

Phil might think the gift was generous, but Mark owed his dad so much more. If all went well tomorrow, maybe he could set up an arrangement with Phil. A way to continue helping.

But would Redd accept the help if he found out Mark was the donor?



“Okay, I’m it. You better hide really well,” Hannah called to her children Sunday after lunch as they squealed and scattered around the grassy front yard. She covered her eyes and started counting slowly.

The past couple of years, Hannah had only wanted two things. A bigger home for her kids—check—and the certainty that each of her children felt important and special.

But being a single working mom made that difficult. She struggled to make time for each one. Had dropped her volunteer position with the church youth group. Made Sundays family time.

“Don’t peek,” Tony called from somewhere behind her.

“Nine and a half. Ten! Ready or not, here I come.” She opened her eyes just as Emily’s head disappeared behind the rocking chair on the porch.

She grinned as she started rattling bushes and jumping behind trees. “Where is everyone?”

A giggle sounded at the side of the house. Within five minutes, she had found everyone, saving Emily for last.

Redd, who’d started closing Hometown Hardware on Sundays a few years earlier, gave a wave as he lumbered across the yard, his uneven gait making him rock side to side. His graying hair had once been dark blond like Mark’s. And he’d probably been as handsome as his son in his younger days. But his wife’s death six years ago had aged him. Deep wrinkles formed brackets around his mouth and frown lines between his eyes. The smile that lit his face when he saw the kids gave Hannah an inkling of what he’d looked like years before.

When Emily spotted him, she squealed and ran to hug him, dark hair flying in the wind. Eric followed closely and grabbed on to Redd’s other leg.

He hobbled across the yard, pulling giggling kids along with him. “Well, now, I seem to feel a bit heavy today. Must’ve eaten too much lunch.”

Becca, in her standard pink T-shirt and denim shorts, grabbed her belly and doubled over, laughing. “Mr. Redd is so silly.”

Tony, usually reserved, actually smiled. “He’s teasing, Becca.”

Her children loved Redd. And the man seemed to enjoy them, as well. In the beginning, she hadn’t been too sure about their extremely close neighbor relationship. With the Ryker-Williams family history, she’d worried how he might feel about them being there. But from the beginning, he’d been solicitous, almost as if he still felt guilty for his son’s actions.

Admittedly, she’d felt awkward at first. But she’d come around to the fact that Redd had been as hurt by Mark as her family had.

“Okay, you two. Don’t hurt his hip. Let go of Mr. Redd so we can talk.”

The twins pouted—for about five seconds. Then they raced off, calling Becca and Tony to come play another round of hide-and-seek.

Redd looked off into the distance, but his eyes didn’t seem to focus on anything in particular. “I guess you’ve seen that Mark has returned to town.”

Her stomach dropped at the mention of his name. What if Mark had talked him into moving back in the family home? “Yes.”

“I’d rather him not know I’m renting out the house, if there’s any way around it.”

“I’m afraid he came by yesterday.”

He ran a hand over his chin, rasping against whiskers, looking troubled.

She gently touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

His chin rose as he watched the kids. “I’m fine.” Then he looked into her eyes. “You?”

He tried to act cool on the outside, yet he had to be a mess on the inside. Meanwhile she stewed, worried and angry. “I’m okay. Shocked, but okay.”

“Still can’t figure out what he’s doing here. Says he wanted to come apologize. But now he’s hanging around.”

Yes, it was unnerving, to say the least. And she felt sure he’d stayed to try to uproot her and the kids so his dad could move back into the house.

“He seems to be concerned that you’re in the garage apartment.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and watched him closely for his response.

He shook his head and huffed. “I’m fine over there. Don’t worry about me.”

Yes, but could Mark change his mind? “Well, I guess we can hope Mark’s motives are pure.”

Redd gave a snort but didn’t comment further. “I sure hope your sister doesn’t find out he’s back, even if it is just for a visit.”

Goodness. Hannah had thought so much about her own situation with the kids and the house that she hadn’t considered Sydney hearing about Mark being in town. “Yeah, me, too. She’s still got a few more weeks in rehab.”

Regret crawled across Redd’s ragged features, drawing his mouth into a frown. He shook his head and plodded toward the garage, hands in his pockets, head down. As if carrying a huge weight. He stopped partway across the yard.

“I know the kids in the youth group miss you, but you made a good choice to spend Sundays with your little ones. They grow up too fast.” Regret tinged his voice, and his pain jabbed her heart.

“You’re right,” she said, wishing she could say something more, something to comfort him.

He’d lost one son. And, really, the other, as well.

Now Mark was here trying to butt into his dad’s life. The man might end up hurt all over again.

“Mom, I’m hungry,” Tony called. “Is it time to eat yet?”

“Not yet, sweetie. But why don’t you come inside and help me decide what to cook?”

Maybe if she finished unpacking, she wouldn’t feel so unsettled, so worried about losing the house. She would finish the last boxes that night, even if she had to stay up to the wee hours.



Mark had the money in hand by noon on Monday. When he arrived at the church, he climbed out of the air-conditioned car. The muggy afternoon air nearly sucked the breath out of him. He’d forgotten how miserable it could get in early June in Georgia.

Carrying an envelope of cash left him unsettled. After years of living on the streets, he’d become hyperalert. Cautious. Now he caught himself glancing around, waiting for someone to jump him.

He laughed it off and flagged down Phil as he spotted him walking through the parking lot.

“Oh, hi, Mark. Is that the money for your dad?”

“It is.”

Phil nodded toward the bank, which sat across from the old brick courthouse with its newly refurbished white cupola. “Come on, walk part of the way with me.”

As they crossed the street, Mark said, “Did a little research at the courthouse this morning. Dad owes back taxes. This will cover that debt, plus the larger home repairs.” He handed over the envelope.

A flash of concern drew Phil’s brows together. “You know, Mark, I’m all for doing good. But I hope Redd won’t be angry when he discovers the deposit.”

“Surely an anonymous donation will save his pride.”

“We’ll see soon enough.” He gave Mark’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll have the receipt anytime you want to come pick it up.” He nodded toward Faith’s Coffee Time Café. “Miss Ann Sealy often spends her mornings over there with her Bible, visiting with friends…if you think you could use a friendly face.”

As the pastor walked inside the bank, Mark decided Phil was very insightful. He did need a cup of coffee and a friendly face even more.

Movement flickered in his peripheral vision as he turned toward the coffee shop.

A little dark-haired girl stood on the sidewalk, craning her neck back, looking up at him. “Hello.”

“You’re Hannah’s daughter.”

She pushed her pink glasses higher up her nose, and stared at him with earnest brown eyes. “Yes. And you’re the man who was lost.”

He bit back a grin. No point in trying to convince her otherwise. “I guess I am.” He forced a serious look on his face. “So what are you doing today?”

“I’m bored, so I’m walking to the library.” Her pigtails swung in her face as she took off a backpack, unzipped it and pulled out a card. With a wide grin, she proudly held it up for him to see. “I have my own library card.”

“Impressive.”

She stuffed it back inside. “Where are you going?”

“To get coffee. Are you with your mom?” He glanced around, hoping Hannah was with the girl so she wouldn’t find out about the deposit.

“No, I’m staying at my nana’s, and she let me play outside.” She crossed her arms and squinched up her nose. “I should probably ask her if I can go to the library.”

“Yes, I imagine she’d be worried if she can’t find you.”

She sighed as if very disappointed to have to delay her visit to check out books. “I guess you’re right. Bye, Mister, uh…”

“Mark. Just call me Mark.”

A shy smile lit her studious face and made her bright eyes sparkle. “I’m Becca.” She ran toward the church, crossed the street at the corner and then ran toward a group of older redbrick duplexes. She disappeared between two buildings. He assumed her grandmother—Donna—lived nearby.

Becca didn’t seem to have noticed Mark walking with Phil. But he still didn’t like the idea of Hannah’s daughter seeing him near the bank. The last thing he needed was for Hannah to find out where the money had come from and tell Redd.



“Becca, please put down your book while we’re eating.” Hannah had managed to prepare a dinner of spaghetti and salad, though she never had located the box of kitchen supplies that held her colander. Dinner had also been delayed by her mother’s half-hour rant about her fury over Mark’s return.

As if Donna storming out of the church hadn’t been indication enough.

“This spaghetti is watery,” Becca said as she stuck a bookmark in the novel. “I wonder why.”

“No mystery there. I can’t locate the box with my pasta strainer.”

Becca made a check mark in the air with her finger. “Aha! Problem solved.”

Hannah smiled at her daughter. “So what are you reading?”

“Do we have to hear about one of her stories agaaain?” Eric whined through a mouth covered in tomato sauce.

“That’s okay, Becca. I want to hear,” Emily said, but then followed the sweet remark with a punch to her brother’s arm.

Ignoring the whole exchange, Tony-the-bottomless-pit, with his tousled brown hair and squeaky-clean face, bent over his plate, totally focused on shoveling in the pile of plain noodles he’d insisted on that night.

Though parenting by herself left her drained sometimes, Hannah wouldn’t trade a moment spent with her children. “Let’s all be nice. Becca, you can tell us about your new book. Then it’s Tony’s turn to talk. Then Eric’s, then Emily’s.”

Becca’s face lit with a smile as she pushed up her glasses and jumped right in with a complete plot summary. Then after she finished, with a dribble of spaghetti sauce on her chin, she added, “Oh, and I met Mark today. You know, the man who was lost? He and Pastor Phil were walking downtown while I was going to the library.” She looked up to see if her story had attracted their attention.

Normally, Becca’s asides wouldn’t faze Hannah, but this one grabbed her by the throat. Phil had deposited a large anonymous donation into Redd Ryker’s account that day. So Becca’s information could mean Mark was the donor. It would make perfect sense.

“So did Mark say what he was doing with Pastor Phil?”

“Nope. He just asked if I was with you. And told me his name.”

Goodness. She certainly hoped Donna hadn’t made a scene. “So did Nana talk to him, too?”

“Um…well…” Her face turned red as she stared into her plate. “Nana didn’t know where I was.”

“Rebecca Lyn Hughes, what were you doing running around the square by yourself? And why didn’t your grandmother tell me?”

She blinked her big brown eyes. “Well, I didn’t think about asking. I was bored and started to go to the library. And then when Pastor Phil went into the bank, I stopped to talk to Mark.” She broke from her hurried explanation long enough to gasp for a breath. “And I didn’t think about asking Nana until Mark said I should. So I went back to the house to ask her if I could go to the library, and she took me. And I got my new book.”

“Well, young lady, I’m afraid you’re going to lose some of your freedom the rest of this week for breaking the rules. You can’t play outside alone until Saturday.”

Becca stared at her novel, as if wondering whether the unauthorized first trip to the library had been worth it. “Maybe I can do some reading at Nana’s house.”

“Certainly. No more wandering off.”

They finished their meal, and after putting Becca in charge of the younger kids with instructions to unpack the last of their toys, she ran next door to Redd’s apartment.

When he answered the door, he smiled. “What a nice surprise. Come in.” A table behind him had a plate and glass on it.

“I’m sorry to disturb your dinner. But I was wondering if you could possibly watch the kids for about thirty minutes while I…uh, run to town?” To see what his son had been up to. “After you eat, of course.”

“Well, I reckon that’d be okay.”

“You’ll be fine. They’re occupied with unpacking the last box of toys.” She’d never been so pushy in her life, and her face burned hot now. But she had to find out what Mark was up to. If Redd had enough money, he might boot her family out of his house—if not now, then possibly at the end of the one-year contract, before she could afford to buy or build. She knew good and well she’d never find another rental house big enough that would fit her budget.

“I’m nearly finished. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The poor man. She hated to hit him up for child care just because he was close by, but desperation necessitated it. Now she needed to hurry home to change clothes.

Change clothes?

Disgusted with herself for even worrying about it, she marched across the yard and told the kids the plan. Once Redd arrived, she sent them back to organizing their rooms, gave him her cell-phone number and then left.

Remaining stealthy was difficult in a small town. But she did her best to cruise by the B and B and check license plates without alarming the owners or guests.

Luckily, she found Mark’s rental car parked out front. Of course, now she had to go inside and ask for him. Mr. and Mrs. Gunter knew everyone in town—including Hannah’s mother. If Donna found out her daughter had come around to visit Mark Ryker, she would throw a fit. Or worse, do something irrational to punish Hannah.

She plowed ahead, intent on telling the man to quit meddling in his father’s affairs and to go away. Helping Redd was one thing. But sneaking around, using money to manipulate him to do something he claimed he didn’t want to do—like moving back into the house—was a different matter.

A sign on the front door of the old Victorian home said to enter and ring the bell on the desk. She followed the directions, then waited. Every creak made her jump. Still, no one came.

She knew there were four guest rooms. She could start knocking.

No. Too awkward. So she tapped the little silver bell again, louder this time. Still no response.

Instead of heading toward the guest rooms, she first searched the living areas. When she reached the dining room, she heard voices outside. She peeked through the screen door at the back porch and found Mark sitting on an oversize rocking chair, holding a coffee mug. He and two other guests chatted with the Gunters.

Evening social hour.

Fighting the temptation to flee, she squared her shoulders. She would not waste putting herself through that awkward request for babysitting by chickening out.

She pushed the door open. “Hello?”

Though she tried her best to smile and look at the owners, her gaze automatically darted to Mark, whose rocking motion stilled the moment he spotted her.

“Oh, Hannah, dear,” Mrs. Gunter said from the chair beside Mark, in her thick German accent. An energetic seventy-year-old, she always wore cotton dresses covered with an apron…and knee-high stockings, the tops of which showed just below the hemline. “Come join us for cookies and coffee.”

“Thanks, but I can’t. I stopped by to talk with Mr. Ryker for a moment.”

“Oooh?” Mrs. Gunter said, with a hopeful lilt on the end of the word.

Mark hopped up, leaving his chair to rock back and forth without him in it. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Hughes?” Though concern drew his brows downward, his voice sounded perfectly calm and…well, perfect.

How could he infuriate her so, even in that smooth tone of voice? And where had his Georgia accent gone anyway? Had he purposefully hidden it? Was he ashamed of his past?

He should be ashamed of his past, accent or not. “I need to speak to you about something—privately.”

“You talk in the garden.” Mrs. Gunter stood and shooed them down the back steps. She pointed toward a path that led into a garden surrounded by holly hedges.

The sun was heading below the horizon as Mark followed her farther along the path dotted with pink-and- yellow lantana, pots of geraniums, beds of petunias. At the last event she’d attended at the Gunters’, a bridal shower, she’d thought the garden lovely, peaceful. But now, with the crescendo of frog calls, the oppressive, flower-scented air and closeness of Mark as he trailed behind her, right on her heels, the shrubbery closed in, smothering her.

At the first bench, she stopped and turned to him. “I know you donated the money for your dad.”

“And how could you have come to that conclusion?”

He was calm and cool and totally irritating. And those eyes…a woman could lose herself in those eyes.

She sat on the rough stone bench, mainly to get away from him. “Becca saw you outside the bank today.”

He sighed as he sat next to her. “I was afraid of that. I really want to keep this anonymous. So please don’t tell my father.”

“You’re afraid he’ll reject the donation if he finds out it’s from you?” As soon as the words left her mouth and she saw the hurt on his face, she regretted her question.

“I’m sure he’ll reject it. He wants nothing to do with me—which I understand. But I don’t want him to struggle when I’m able to help.”

Pity tried to worm its way into her heart, but she stood firm. One time, many years ago, she would have fallen for his spiel, for his generosity. At one time, she would have thought him attractive.

But this man had ruined Sydney’s reputation, started her on the road to alcoholism and then, when he realized what he’d done, vanished. She would not feel sorry for him.

“I don’t plan to tell your father. The deposit is simply bank business as far as I’m concerned. But if you try to make my family move before we’re ready, then I may have to reconsider.”

He raised his brows with what appeared to be humor. “Does your husband know you’re here threatening me?”

A flash of pain shot through her. Though it had been two years since his death, hearing someone say your husband still hurt. “My husband passed away. I’m simply taking care of my family the best I can.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry for your loss.” Genuine regret drew his brows back down from their teasing height and made him frown. Then he looked away.

If he’d had half a care for the people of his hometown, he would have known about Anthony’s death. The tree frogs seemed to lapse as awkward silence settled around them.

“So how long do you plan to live in Dad’s house?” he asked.

“Two to three years. I hope to buy or build as soon as possible.”

He seemed to consider whether he could tolerate his dad living in the garage for a few years. She wished she felt better about it herself. She’d been dealing with guilt since she’d watched Redd move out of the only home he’d ever known, watched him climb those steep garage stairs several times a day. She clung to the fact he’d said he was tired of rattling around that big old house, hoping it wasn’t strictly a financial decision. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if Redd had been truthful.

Mark stood and casually rested his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants, almost as if he’d rehearsed the genteel country-club look. “The house needs a lot of repairs. Maybe I could stick around and help.”




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