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Lakeside Sweethearts
Lisa Jordan


From Friendship to RomanceAgnes Kingsley can hardly bear to walk past the house she lived in as a married woman. It's full of bad memories she's never shared–not even with her best friend, Ian James. But now Ian wants her help to restore that old home for a community project. Agnes knows it's for a good cause, but as their work brings them even closer together, she's afraid to trust–in herself or in the feelings she's secretly harbored for her childhood friend. Yet as they chip away at the house, walls come down around both their hearts…uncovering a foundation to last a lifetime.







From Friendship to Romance

Agnes Kingsley can hardly bear to walk past the house she lived in as a married woman. It’s full of bad memories she’s never shared—not even with her best friend, Ian James. But now Ian wants her help to restore that old home for a community project. Agnes knows it’s for a good cause, but as their work brings them even closer together, she’s afraid to trust—in herself or in the feelings she’s secretly harbored for her childhood friend. Yet as they chip away at the house, walls come down around both their hearts…uncovering a foundation to last a lifetime.


“I would never hurt you.”

“I know, Ian.” Agnes’s voice sounded raspy.

She bit her bottom lip to steady her trembling jaw, a tear slipping over her lower lashes and trailing down her cheek.

Ian crushed her to his chest. “Why didn’t you come to me? I would have protected you.”

She should move away. But, for that moment, she just wanted the strength of his embrace, and to rest her ear against his chest and listen to his beating heart.

Ian pulled back and cradled her face with both hands, his fingers threading in her hair. He kept his gaze steady with hers. “You are safe with me.”

As his words soaked in, Agnes searched his face and cupped his jaw. “I know.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders. His questioning eyes searched her face. “Red—”

She pressed a finger against his lips. “You’re my protector, Ian. I feel safe here because of you.”


LISA JORDAN

has been writing for over a decade, taking a hiatus to earn her degree in early childhood education. By day, she operates an in-home family child-care business. By night, she writes contemporary Christian romances. Being a wife to her real-life hero and mother to two young adult men overflow her cup of blessings. In her spare time, she loves reading, knitting and hanging out with family and friends. Learn more about her at www.lisajordanbooks.com. (http://www.lisajordanbooks.com)


Lakeside Sweethearts

Lisa Jordan




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


He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

—Ecclesiastes 3:11


To Dr. Reba J. Hoffman, who inspired Agnes’s character.

You, my friend, are amazing. Thank you for your prayers, wisdom and encouragement. May your Road to Freedom impact others as much as you’ve impacted me.

To Dianne Sherman, whose passion and vision for the

House of Hope ministry inspired this story. May God bless

your ministry and the women in a way that leaves you breathless.


Acknowledgments

Susan May Warren, Rachel Hauck, Michelle Lim,

Beth Vogt, Reba J. Hoffman, Edie Melson, Melissa Tagg,

Alena Tauriainen, Roxanne Sherwood Gray, Sue Nebbe, Carolyn Vibbert & Amanda W.—thank you for your brainstorming, additional sets of eyes and feedback

that helped to make this a stronger story.

Rachel Hauck & Lindsay Harrel—

thank you for sharing your love stories as I strived to

create the romance between Ian and Agnes.

Jude Urbanski—for sharing your story of how God

triumphed through tragedy. Bill Giovanetti—for helping me

to create Agnes’s car trouble. R. Herrick, the

Honorable Maureen Skerda, Reba J. Hoffman,

Patrick Jordan and Jessica Koschnitzky—for information about the Pennsylvania Motor Vehicle Code, prison system, sentencing and parole information. Any mistakes are mine.

Melissa Endlich & Giselle Regus—my two incredible editors whose encouragement and revision notes challenged me to write the best story possible. Thank you to the rest of the Love Inspired team who had a hand in bringing my book to print.

Rachelle Gardner—my fairy godmother agent

who tied the knot and encouraged me to hold on

when my rope unraveled unexpectedly.

Patrick, Scott & Mitchell—your constant encouragement

helps me to keep living the dream. I love you forever.

Most importantly, thank you, God, for loving me unconditionally in spite of my flaws and scars.


Contents

Chapter One (#uc760dffb-e871-5013-9d4f-dd252039ac56)

Chapter Two (#ucb09d6cc-872a-5b54-ad9b-b879c47fc6cb)

Chapter Three (#u36e21448-7e3d-519e-aaeb-fee523eb7906)

Chapter Four (#u2104fc07-2119-5033-8990-fe7915141686)

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)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Red had to say yes. Restoring his family depended on it.

Ian James opened the door to Cuppa Josie’s and entered Shelby Lake’s finest coffeehouse, ushering the sun-soaked May breeze in with him. The wind ruffled the edges of the Shelby Lake Gazette splayed across the large storefront window counter. As he closed the door, the tattered bells rattled against the glass.

He slid off his sunglasses and slipped them in the breast pocket of his untucked button-down shirt, giving his eyes a minute to adjust to the abrupt change in lighting.

Today’s special blend—crème brûlée according to the sign on the front door—mingled with the spicy aroma of Josie Brennan’s signature white chicken chili, causing his stomach to grumble. The Saturday special on the chalkboard easel near the register boasted chocolate macadamia nut brownies as the dessert of the day.

Once he finished talking with Red, he’d grab lunch before heading back to the insurance office to go over a couple of claims with Dad. Then he needed to head out to Carl Winston’s place to determine the extent of his recent garage fire.

Being a claims adjuster might not be a glamorous job or his dream career, but he liked helping people get what they needed.

Rustling newspapers, ringing cell phones and the buzz of conversations couldn’t drown out Red’s laughter that touched his ears before she appeared from the side dining room.

Ian swallowed back the knot in his throat that always seemed to form every time he saw her.

Agnes Kingsley, his best friend since her family moved next door from Texas to Shelby Lake about twenty-five years ago, had captured her ginger-colored hair in a ponytail that did little to keep a few curls from escaping and spiraling around her face.

The Cuppa Josie’s apron tied twice around her narrow waist failed to hide her long legs and the slight curve of her hips. Large hoop earrings dangled from her ears.

Their first meeting was imprinted in his memory—she was ten and he was twelve. The pop fly he’d missed had rolled into her yard next door. She’d stepped from behind her family’s moving van cradling the baseball between two fingers and her thumb. She’d smiled, her crazy mop of ginger hair askew. When she refused to give her name, he dubbed her “Red,” and the rest was history.

The baby she cradled in her arms released a wail that jerked Ian back to the present. Red patted his back while talking to Lindsey Chase, Josie Brennan’s stepsister.

Lindsey tucked a blond strand of hair behind her ear and touched her son’s pajama-covered leg. “You’d make a great mom someday, Agnes.”

A shadow flickered across her eyes. “As much as I love the little darlings, being a mama isn’t going to happen.”

“You say that now, but some guy will turn your head, and then you’ll be holding your own little one before you know it.”

Despite Red’s laughter, he recognized the hollow tone. And when she turned on the Texas charm, he knew to watch out...or rescue her, depending on her target.

He skirted past the couch in front of the unlit fireplace where some dude wearing headphones tapped his pencil against his laptop to the beat of his music. Winding through the square tables filled with the lunch crowd, Ian reached Lindsey and Red.

He caressed the newborn’s soft head. “Hey, Linds. Congrats on your little guy. Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal Agnes from you?” Without waiting for her response, he touched Red’s elbow. “You got a second? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” She breathed in the infant’s scent once more, then handed him back to Lindsey. “Thanks for stopping in, Linds. Bring him back so I can hug his sweet little neck again.”

To be that baby’s neck...

Turning her attention to Ian, she nodded toward the side dining room. “Mind if we talk in there? I need to finish setting up for a private luncheon. Abby can handle the register.”

Ian glanced at the seventeen-year-old flirting at the coffee counter with one of the Shelby Lake High football players. Yeah, she had it covered. He shook his head and followed Red into the side dining room. He half closed the door for a little privacy. “You okay?”

She smiled wide. “Just dandy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Maybe because of your Texas charm? Or maybe the fact that you won’t look at me? Or maybe the way your hand is trembling while you fold that napkin?”

She tossed the yellow napkin on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m just fine, Ian James. Either speak your piece or leave me be. I have work to do.”

Ian rounded the long tables covered with white cloths and cupped her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. Sadness fringed her electric blue eyes. He caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re better than fine, Red. I’ve been telling you that for years. But something upset you. What’s going on in that stubborn head of yours?”

Red’s shoulders slumped as she pressed her forehead against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her expensive perfume—the one gift he bought her every year because she refused to spend the money on herself.

“Why does everyone think a woman needs a husband and a baby to be complete? There’s more to life than being some guy’s doormat and changing diapers.”

“Being married doesn’t make you a doormat. Besides, I’m sure Lindsey meant nothing by her comment. You’re just a natural when it comes to kids. From teaching your teen Sunday school class and overseeing the nursery—it’s obvious that you love them.”

“But not every woman can—I mean—wants to raise a passel of babies.” She pushed him away and waved her hands, as if dispersing with that conversation. “What are you doing here anyway? Weren’t you supposed to go to some craft fair with Emily?”

After being best friends with Red for so long, he knew when to back off.

He didn’t really want to talk about his change in plans for the day either, but Red needed to hear the news from him instead of from some customers’ gossiping.

“Yeah, about that...” Sighing, he pulled out a chair, dropped on it and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Em broke up with me last night.”

Red placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Why?”

“She feels I don’t devote enough time to her.”

“She’s right—you don’t. But it’s really not your fault. You can’t work her banker’s hours. You’re required to be in the field when most people are eating dinner or chilling out on weekends. Plus, with running your nephew to practice and feeding your caffeine addiction here, I’m surprised you had time to take her to dinner.”

“Thanks, friend. Whose side are you on?” And his coffee addiction happened so he could see Red.

“Get real, Ian. A woman wants to know she’s valued in a guy’s life. Even with your demanding job, you could make more time to be with her if you really wanted.”

He shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “You’re right.”

“Well, maybe its good you found out now.”

“Yeah, especially now.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t see myself spending the rest of my life with her.”

“Why not?”

She’s not you.

But he couldn’t say it.

“You’re almost thirty-eight, Ian. You’ve wanted a wife and family for a while. Maybe it’s time to think about settling down.”

His conversation with Emily last night made him realize he didn’t want to just date for the sake of going out. He wanted the one woman who’d stolen his heart a couple of decades ago.

He wanted Red.

And now he was determined to prove they belonged together.

“You should take your own advice,” he said.

“Tried that, remember? Apparently, I’m not enough to make a man happy.”

“You need the right man, Red. Your ex was a jerk, who couldn’t see what a great woman he had.” Ian stood and reached for Red’s hand. He ran a thumb over her soft skin.

Red glanced at her hand, then shot him a puzzled look before pulling her fingers away gently. “We can talk more later, if you’d like, but I really need to finish setting up in here.”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about anyway.... I got sidetracked. Can you spare a couple more minutes?”

“What’s going on?”

Fifteen minutes ago, he had forced himself not to sprint down the street to share his news with her. Now his stomach knotted, and his throat felt as dry as day-old toast. “I just left Seaver Realty.”

“Really?” Red leaned over the table to adjust the pink and yellow roses in floral teacups, her ponytail falling forward over her shoulder. “What for? Planning to move out of your parents’ basement?”

“Nah, haven’t gotten that lucky yet. I’ll be there to lend a hand until Zoe’s released from prison and can care for Griffin on her own.” He paused a minute to choose his next words carefully. “The board voted on a place for Agape House. Mom signed the final paperwork today.”

“That was fast.” She smacked him with a napkin. “Why didn’t you say anything, Ian James?”

“Well, it happened rather quickly. Once Mom learned my sister’s parole hearing would be in August, she’s been pushing them to agree on one of the houses Alec’s already shown them. So they made a decision last night and signed papers today. Thanks to community donations and corporate sponsorships, the house has been paid in full.”

“That’s great, Ian.” Red did a little dance and opened her arms. “Get over here so I can hug your neck. I know how important this is to your family.”

He gathered her against his chest again, her hair whispering against his chin. Could she feel his heart hammering against his ribs? “Yeah, thanks. Mom hopes the parole board will be in favor of releasing Zoe in August if she has a transitional home to go to.”

“Doesn’t give you much time to get a house ready.”

“Exactly. Which brings me to my next thing—the board chose an estate that’s structurally sound but needs some work—inside and out. Plus, Mom’s talking repainting, new curtains...stuff like that.”

“Makes sense. A fresh coat of paint covers a multitude of scars.” Red walked to the window and adjusted the blinds to allow light to pour across the chocolate-brown carpet.

Ian shoved his hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans. “She wants to know if you’re interested in the job.”

“But I have a job.” She reached for a yellow napkin and folded it into a fan before setting it on one of the white dinner plates.

“This is part-time and temporary. You have great budgeting and organizational skills to coordinate the volunteers helping with cleaning and painting. There’s a stipend set aside for whoever takes the job.” Ian reached for one of the napkins and copied Red’s folding. “Mom loves your repurposed furniture. She wants to buy pieces for Agape House and will showcase your work to help spread the word about your business.”

Agnes pressed a hand to her chest. “Ian, I don’t know what to say. It’s so generous. I love working for Josie and Nick, but opening Tattered Daisies Furniture has been a dream for so long.”

“This takes you one step closer to having your own storefront. Say yes.”

“Where’s the place?” She handed him a pitcher of ice water and pointed to the place settings across from her. “Please fill those glasses.”

This was the tough part.

“Well, that’s the thing.” Ice clinked against the clear glass as he filled the goblets halfway with water. He set the pitcher on the table and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. “It’s the old Miller estate on Liberty Street.”

Her head jerked up, causing her to slosh water over the edge of the goblet she had been filling. “Wait a minute...what?”

He snatched napkins off the table behind him and thrust them at her. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. “The Miller estate on Liberty. You know that gray house with the black shutters?”

“I heard you, idiot.” She slid the flower arrangements out of the way and pressed the napkins onto the spreading water. Flatware clattered against the plates as she cleared the table.

“Hey, what’s up with that?”

Shaking out a clean cloth, she glared at him as if she wanted to dump the water over his head. “You’re acting about as dense as a fence post. You asked me to help knowing how much I despise that place.”

He rubbed a damp hand over his face. He had expected her to be less than thrilled once she found out, but he had nothing to do with the building choice.

“It’s been over five years. I just thought—”

“Ian, I’d do almost anything for you...for your family. Especially after what your daddy did for mine all those years ago. But I can’t do this. And you of all people shouldn’t be asking me.” She bundled the damp tablecloth and wet napkins into a ball.

“Listen—”

She held up a hand. “No, you listen. I said I’d never step foot in that wretched house again.”

Ian rounded the table and stood in front of her. “I know your marriage to Bobby wasn’t what you had envisioned, but he’s not around anymore. You even went back to your maiden name. He has no hold on you.”

She dropped her eyes to the wet fabric in her arms. “That house holds nothing but bad memories for me. I’ve spent the past five and a half years putting that decade of my life behind me.”

“Have you?” He tipped her chin.

“Have I what?”

“Put it behind you? If so, then going back to that house wouldn’t be a problem.”

She pushed past him and headed for the door. “You have no idea.”

He reached for her arm. “I can’t do this alone.”

“My head is ready to jump on board, but my heart...well, they’re not on speaking terms at the moment. I know this is so important to all y’all. Just once I wish God would take a shine to answering one of my dreams.”

The longing in her voice needled his heart. “God has a dream bigger than your own, Red. What He gives you will be greater than anything you’ve ever imagined.”

“Not for a throwaway like me.” The desolation on her face twisted his gut. “You’re hoping to restore that place into a house of hope, but don’t y’all see? It will never be anything but a house of pain.”

She pushed past him and hurried into the main dining room. The lingering scent of her perfume wasn’t strong enough to mask the defeat that settled over his shoulders.

He had been so sure she’d say yes. But now he needed to find another way to convince her to agree—for all of their sakes.

He wanted her help with Agape House, but not just for restoring his family. More than that, he wanted to restore her heart and prove she was worthy of being loved.

* * *

If she were a real friend, she’d shove her regrets and bad memories into the past where they belonged and help Ian. As her family’s dearest friends, they’d drop everything if the roles were reversed.

So why couldn’t she do it?

Agnes shoved the tablecloths into the washer and slammed the lid, trying to blot Ian’s pleading eyes from her memory.

Being in that house would release the ghosts she’d managed to imprison so she’d have some semblance of a normal life.

Saying no was her only option.

Agnes returned to the kitchen to find it empty, but a light glowed from under Josie’s closed office door. Probably needed a few minutes with her feet up.

Josie’s pregnancy with Noah, her eleven-month-old, had been a piece of cake. With this new pregnancy, she dealt with a lot of morning sickness...or as she called it—all day sickness.

Agnes tried to convince her to go home, but she insisted on helping with the luncheon.

Agnes opened the stainless steel industrial refrigerator and reached for the glass bowl of mixed greens. Balancing the covered bowl against her chest, she grabbed the stack of salad plates chilling on the top shelf and closed the door with her foot. She set everything on the stainless counter, then washed her hands.

Not even the scent of lemon meringue pie baking in the oven could add sweetness to her sour mood.

The kitchen door swung open, and Hannah, Josie and Nick’s twelve-year-old daughter, bounced into the kitchen, wearing brown leggings, a blue fitted T-shirt that matched the rest of the Cuppa Josie’s staff and a striped Cuppa Josie’s apron.

Although she was too young to work, Hannah liked to volunteer and help when Josie had private parties in the side dining room.

“I’m here to help, Aggie. Tell me what you need.” Hannah rested an elbow on the counter and snatched a tomato out of the salad Agnes pulled from the fridge.

Agnes tapped her on the nose. “Thanks, Sugar Pie.”

Two years ago, Nick had donated his bone marrow to knock the leukemia from her body. Now Hannah thrived with color restored back in her cheeks. A miniature clone of Josie, but with her daddy’s eyes and nose, Hannah had chin-length cocoa-colored hair, held back with a flowered headband. Almost as tall as Josie now, she had a sweet spirit that touched everyone she met.

“Have you seen Mom?”

“Her office light is on. She may be taking a breather for a minute.”

Agnes nodded toward the glass plates she had pulled from the fridge. “Please take those to the side dining room and set them on the buffet table. The coffee and tea are already on the beverage table, but you could put out some lemonade. I’ll be in with the salad as soon as I add the cranberries and almonds.”

Hannah reached for the plates and pushed through the door.

Josie chose that moment to return to the kitchen, refastening her hair into a messy bun. A blue Cuppa Josie’s apron tied at her waist emphasized her expanding belly. “Sorry for ditching you. One of the coffee suppliers called to confirm a new shipment.”

“Everything straightened out?”

“Yes, I will be able to use my superpowers to continue to caffeinate the world.” She stifled a yawn. Dark circles gathered under her brown eyes, highlighting her pale skin.

Agnes opened the bag of dried cranberries and poured them into the salad. “Sugar Pie, why don’t you let me handle this luncheon, and you put your feet up?”

“Agnes, this isn’t 1950. I’ve been pregnant before. I can handle it.” Josie smiled as she reached for pot holders to pull the pie out of the oven.

“You’ve been working since six this morning. Surely you could use a break.”

“I’ll leave as soon as the luncheon is done. I promise. Hannah’s here to help. Nick took Noah to Dad and Gracie’s. So we’re all good.” Josie pulled eggs from the fridge and set them on the counter next to her KitchenAid mixer.

Agnes waved the salad tongs at her. “I’m sticking you to it.”

With one hand bracing the counter and the other folded on her hip, Josie gave Agnes a pointed look. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

No use in pretending she didn’t know what Josie was talking about. No matter how wide her smile, Josie could always pinpoint when Agnes had something stuck in her craw. She stared at the salad, trying to figure out what to say. “I’m a fool. And a rotten friend.”

“I doubt that.” Josie pulled over a stool and patted the top. “Have a seat and tell me what happened.”

“Men can be so clueless.”

“Uh, yeah, hello—I married one. Nick’s great, but he has his moments. What’s up?”

Agnes recapped her earlier conversation with Ian, including his breakup with Emily.

“Sweetie, you’re hardly a terrible friend. Does Ian know why the house holds such bad memories for you?”

“He knows about Bobby’s cheating and gambling, and the fall, but the rest is too painful to talk about.”

Her ex-husband’s name sent a shudder through her. Permanent gouges scarred her heart, thanks to her ex’s straying.

The first time it had happened, she’d been hoodwinked by his tearful promises that proved to be as empty as his bank account. The second time she left, he managed to lure her home after a week. Again more empty promises. The third...well, that was for good.

His lies and cheating destroyed more than her credit rating and their marriage that night.

“I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject.”

“No worries. Like Ian said—it’s in the past.” Agnes slid off the stool. “Let’s get the food set out so you can get out of here.”

“Just a second.” Josie opened the carton and reached for an egg but made no move to break it. “Now that Ian and Emily aren’t together, what are you going to do?”

“Do?”

“Now’s your chance, Agnes.”

“Chance for what?”

“To let Ian know how you really feel about him.”

“Ian is my best friend. We need to leave it at that.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I said so...that’s why.”

“Oh, good answer.” Josie cracked the egg on the edge of her mixer bowl. “Life is passing you by, Agnes. You spend your time serving and caring about others. It’s time to knock down those walls around your heart and go after what you truly want.”

“If only it were that simple. Years ago, I let Ian know how I felt before I went off to college in Texas. Ian said he didn’t want me to feel tied down in a long distance relationship. Then, over Christmas break, he mentioned he had started seeing someone at school. Bobby asked me out, and I guess the rest is history.”

“You quit school after your freshman year to get married, right? That was almost twenty years ago. That boy is a man who drools over you like a morning pastry. Maybe working together on Agape House would be a great way to see if there could be more than friendship between you two.”

“Ian deserves the family I can’t give him. Besides, I can’t risk our friendship. Not again. If something destroyed that, then I’d have nothing. My heart couldn’t bear that.”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Agnes. Maybe it’s time you threw caution to the wind and took a chance before someone else snatches him up.”

“Maybe someone should. At least he could have the future he’s always wanted.”

With Josie’s words ringing in her ears, Agnes fixed a smile in place and reached for the salad. She walked into the side dining room and set the bowl of mixed greens on the buffet table. Hannah, bless her heart, brought in pitchers of lemonade. Josie followed with a platter of chicken salad croissants and a glass pedestal bowl of cut fresh fruit.

Nancy, the hostess of the luncheon, arrived. While Josie spoke to her about the food, Agnes retreated to the kitchen.

Hannah poked her head inside the kitchen door. “Mr. Higby’s looking for you.”

“Clarence? My landlord?”

She nodded, then held the door open wide enough for Agnes to see the burly man drumming his fingers on the counter by the register.

Agnes followed Hannah into the main dining room. “Hey, Clarence.”

Clarence Higby ran a finger between the collar of his flannel shirt and his doughy neck. He gripped a white envelope in his other hand. “Agnes, do you have a moment?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Clarence always reminded her of Papa Bear from Goldilocks—brawny with whiskered jowls...and the red suspenders he wore with his cuffed jeans.

“I planned to come by later this afternoon, but when Eliza mentioned her ladies’ thing was here, I wanted you to hear this from me and not overheard from a bunch of hens.”

Agnes didn’t like the direction this conversation was going.

He thrust the envelope at her.

She took it, noticed her name scrawled on the front, then looked at him. “What’s this?”

“The letter says it so much better. Eliza typed it. She’s the one who’s good with words.” He heaved a sigh, then scraped his sausage fingers through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “Eliza and me...well, we’ve decided to move to Arizona.”

“Arizona? You’ve lived in Shelby Lake your entire life.”

“Our daughter Jocelyn is pregnant.” Clarence beamed like a proud grandpa-to-be. “After she lost the first two, she and Aaron wanted to wait until she was out of the danger zone to announce this pregnancy.”

She forced her lips into a smile, hoping to project joy she didn’t feel. “Well, that’s fantastic. When’s the baby due?”

“November—around Thanksgiving.”

“Truly something to be thankful for.”

“Eliza and I don’t want our grandchild to grow up without seeing us but a few times a year, so we’ve decided to move to Arizona before the baby’s born. The air is better for Eliza’s arthritis, too. You know how these damp seasons make her ache so.”

“But...”

Of course she understood they wanted to be with their family, but what about her apartment?

As if reading her thoughts, Clarence laid a beefy hand on her shoulder. “We sold the building. Yesterday. That’s what I wanted you to hear from me.”

His news pushed her stomach into a free fall to her toes. “I didn’t even know it was for sale. How long do I have to look for a new place?”

“Thirty days.”

Air whooshed out of her lungs as if someone had stepped on her ribs. She slumped against the counter, crushing the envelope in her fist.

Thirty days?

Where was she going to find an affordable place in such a short time?

He mentioned selling her apartment building, but what about their cottage?

“Are you planning to rent out your cottage?”

He shook his head. “Nope. We’re listing it with Seaver Realty on Monday.”

She loved the lakefront peach-colored cottage with its white trim and wide front porch. Flower beds skirted the perimeter of the house, and a large backyard meant for barbecues and kickball games overlooked the lake. A white picket fence hemmed it all in.

The kind of place she always dreamed about, complete with rocking chairs on the front porch so she could grow old with someone who found her worth loving.

An image of Ian with silver hair flashed through her mind.

Refusing to give up on owning a place to call home, Agnes continued to put away money. Someday the right house would be available. For now, she’d keep saving her pennies. Unless...

No, that was crazy thinking.

She could barely make her rent each month, thanks to paying off her ex’s gambling debts. The cottage was going to be way out of her price range.

But Ian’s request to help with Agape House came to mind.

If she could push to sell her restored furniture, then maybe, just maybe, she could manage a down payment and get a loan for the mortgage.

Heart hammering against her ribs, she turned to her landlord and blurted, “Clarence, would you and Eliza consider selling the cottage to me?”

He scrubbed a hand over his whiskers. “Now, there’s an idea. You’ve been a great tenant. Let me talk it over with her this afternoon. I’ll give you a call this evening.”

“Sure, that’s fine. I won’t be home for a bit anyway.”

After Clarence left, Agnes checked on the ladies, then hurried to the kitchen. Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she stared at the screen saver of her and Ian as teenagers, grinning as they hoisted the Golden Paddle Award in the air.

Good times.

They made a great team. In more ways than one.

Could she do this? Could her heart handle the risk?

No going back if she said yes.

If she wanted to put the past behind her to face a new future, she had to take the first step. And if she wanted to buy the cottage, she needed the extra income to help with the down payment.

Her thumb hovered over the two on her speed dial. She pressed it and held her breath until Ian’s deep voice answered. She released her breath. “Hey, it’s me. I’ll do it.”

No going back now.

Now she needed to find the courage to put the past to rest.


Chapter Two

When she walked out that door over five years ago, Agnes never thought she’d cross the threshold again.

But here she was.

The chipped gray paint and sagging black shutters of the house on the corner lot held nothing but echoes of angry voices and empty promises.

A sold placard nested on top of the sun-bleached for sale sign swinging in the wind, the rusting chain creaking with each movement.

If she focused on the physical attributes of the house, then maybe she could ignore memories that threatened to resurface simply by walking through the door.

“I can’t believe you talked me into coming here today. I haven’t even changed from work.” Agnes marched up the sidewalk behind Ian, her legs fighting not to turn and run with each step closer to the door.

“No time like the present.” Glancing over his shoulder, he flashed a smile that always made her insides twirl.

Dressed in faded jeans with a threadbare hole in the thigh, a gray T-shirt advertising James & Son Insurance and leather deck shoes that had seen better days, Ian inserted the key and unlocked the door, but didn’t push it open. Keeping one hand clenched on the doorknob, he dragged his fingers through his hair, tousling his sandy-brown curls in need of a cut.

His forget-me-not-blue eyes pleaded with her. “Listen, Red, if you’re not ready, then Mom and I will find someone else to help.”

She tightened her hand around her purse strap, praying this morning’s breakfast of tea and toast didn’t cause a revolt.

Why did it have to be this house?

A gentle breeze stirred the curls of her ponytail, brushing them against her jaw. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warming rays of sunshine.

“Ready?”

She looked at him, pulling energy from the compassion warming his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ian opened the door and stepped back, ushering her to step inside.

Agnes stepped on the black welcome mat covering the stoop and tried not to scoff at the irony. She hadn’t felt welcome here in a long time. Steeling her spine, she strode inside and sucked in a breath.

A musty smell tinged with the faint odor of stale cigarette smoke tangled with the fresh air coming in through the front door. Pushing her white sunglasses on top of her head, she waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. “How long has this place been empty?”

“I think Alec said a year or so. Cliff Miller died last spring, and the family’s been trying to sell it since then.”

Flat beige walls pocked with nail holes added an air of despair to the barren room. Water stains marked the yellowed ceiling. A ratty calico rug covered a large portion of the parched wooden floor. A wide archway led into a smaller room.

What happened to the cream-colored walls and the gleaming wooden floor?

She had taken pride in making the house cozy and keeping it clean, even with their limited budget.

The thirsty floorboards creaked beneath their feet as they moved from the living room into the dining room.

Memories of a different life drifted up from behind every crack and crevice, threatening to buckle her knees.

Love had been a constant in the beginning months of her marriage to Bobby Levine, but those rose-colored glasses cracked before their second anniversary when she learned about his first affair. The beginning of broken promises, pleas for second chances...and thirds.

She’d spent ten years in this house until... Her eyes skimmed the staircase hugging the left wall.... No, she definitely wasn’t going there. She shifted her gaze and hurried through the archway into the kitchen.

Bracing her hands against the stained porcelain sink, she forced the shudder in her chest to calm. She stared out the cracked window to the backyard at the mangled rosebush and neglected flower beds.

“Red?”

She turned and nearly bumped into Ian.

Agnes ran a trembling hand along the counter dulled by decades of use. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Sorry, I kind of just took off.”

“No need for apologies.”

The yellowed floral-printed wallpaper curled at the corners. She pressed the brittle paper back in place, but the moment she let go, the edges pulled away from the wall. She knew that feeling of continuing to hold on, wondering if hope had forgotten her.

“If your mama had chosen a different house, I’d have the first coat of paint on the walls already.”

“We can’t deal in ‘if only.’” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his hand lingering on her hair. “Given the chance, this house—and the women in it—can be redeemed. Sometimes it takes peeling away the layers to find the promise for the future. But if you don’t think you can do it—”

“I said I’d do it.” She stepped away from his touch and waved a hand over the kitchen. “It’s just a little tough being here again. That was a painful time in my life.”

“I know. If I could turn back time, I’d object to you marrying that jerk.” The muscle in his jaw twitched, and his hand balled into a fist.

“You had the chance. Why didn’t you?” The words slipped over her lips before she had time to think about what she had just said.

He turned away. “You chose him. I couldn’t stand in the way of your happiness.”

Angry tears threatened. Her happiness? The only man she had wanted to stand beside her at the altar saw her as a buddy, a pal.

No, she hadn’t chosen. She’d settled.

“I asked you if there was any reason why I shouldn’t marry Bobby. You said no.”

“I was your friend, Red. I couldn’t stand in the way of your future.”

She scoffed and shook her head.

Friend.

Right.

He faced her again, a scowl scrunching his eyebrows. “That creep and this house have drained you emotionally. Now it’s time for healing. Learn to let go and forgive. Leave the past where it belongs and focus on your future, Red.”

“I don’t know what the future holds.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

“But God does. I’m here for you, too.”

“You’re a good friend, Ian. The best a girl could have.”

He shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Friend. Yes, seems to be my lot in life.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. I’m proud of you, Red. Just so you know that.... You said you’d never step foot in this house again, and look where you are now.”

“Yeah, well, you were pretty convincing.”

He glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment soon, but first I want to check upstairs.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the kitchen and into the dining room toward the steps.

Agnes tried to pull her hand from his grasp. “Wait, where are you taking me?”

He released her hand and gripped the nicked banister. “Just upstairs.”

Agnes’s eyes studied each step until they reached the top. She lifted a foot onto the first step. Her breath choked in her throat.

Ian scowled and said something, but the roaring in her ears drowned out his words.

Yelling. Accusations. Pleas. Broken promises jostled at a locked door in the back of her mind. Feeling that first step beneath her foot pried that door of memories loose, exposing past aches.

Her heart raced as her breathing quickened. She squeezed her eyes shut. She watched herself reliving the fall—every bone and muscle knocking off the steps—until she landed in a crumbled heap at the bottom, aching for what she had lost.

Those bones healed and the bruises faded, but Bobby’s role in her accidental fall tore away a part of her that could never be put back together.

Agnes wrapped her arms around her stomach. God, please...make it stop.

She shook her head, tears flooding her eyes. “I can’t go up there. I just can’t.”

Turning, she fled to the front door, wrenched it open and stumbled into the sunshine. Without checking to see if Ian followed her, she hurried down the sidewalk past his Ford Escape.

Ian wanted this house to bring his family back together, but how could they find hope when all she felt was pain?

* * *

As long as he lived, he’d never forget the look of torture that contorted Red’s pale face as she stared up at him from the bottom of the steps.

He wanted to gather her to his chest and protect her from her past. But that was impossible. All he could do now was help her to face it in order to heal and have the life God desired for her.

Palming the warm pizza on one hand, Ian rapped his knuckles against Red’s front door, praying she didn’t slam it back in his face.

A moment later, she opened it, giving him a wary smile. “If you’re fixing to change my mind about going upstairs, it’s not going to happen.”

“Of course not.” Ian held out the large red and white box. “Pizza offering?”

“Come in. It’s not polite for a girl to leave a guy standing on her front step.”

“Especially when he’s holding her favorite pizza.”

“Especially then.” She flashed a quick smile, giving him a glimpse of the spunky Red he knew and loved.

The exterior of Red’s brick apartment building lacked character, but her place exploded with color. Cream-colored walls, an orange couch, a bluish-green printed chair with matching ottoman, sheer blue curtains hanging from tree branch curtain rods that had been pushed back to allow the sunshine to spill across the hardwood floor. White daisies in a yellow pitcher sat on a wicker and glass coffee table. And plants in colored pots sat all over the place.

She had exchanged her work clothes for cutoff denim shorts that showcased her bare legs and a blue Lone Star State T-shirt. Red pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and tossed it in a pottery bowl on the end table. She fluffed her ginger curls around her face, then took the pizza from him.

Ian followed her through the living room into the kitchen.

She set the box on the table and pulled two red stoneware plates from the cupboard. Ian opened the lid, releasing scents of yeast, tomatoes and oregano.

She peeked over his shoulder, her hair brushing against his cheek. “You got pineapple and ham. My favorite.”

“Of course.” He took a step back to keep from winding one of those curls around his finger. Hands off. He was her friend. “You want to tell me why you hightailed it out of there so quickly?”

She set the plates on the table and turned away to open a drawer. Grabbing two forks, she looked at him, her eyes shrouded with pain.

She thrust the utensils sat him, then turned and gripped the edge of the sink. “Even after all this time, the stairs...well, they’re a visual reminder of the fall and what I lost that night. I guess I kind of freaked out. Sorry. Anyway, let’s eat before this pizza gets cold.”

She flashed him another quick smile, but this one did little to extinguish the torment in her eyes. She reached into the box to lift out a slice of pizza. Wrapping the melted cheese strings around her finger, she nodded toward the living room. “Let’s eat in there. Grab us a couple of Cokes, will you?”

Leaning against the sink, he watched her leave and ground his teeth together. He wanted to kick himself for pushing her into going to the house when she wasn’t ready.

Way to go, dude.

He grabbed their drinks, then closed the refrigerator door with his hip. Snatching his plate, he headed for the living room.

Red set her plate on the coffee table and pushed the pitcher out of the way to make room for his before sitting on the couch.

Once Ian settled on the cushion next to her, he reached for her hand. “Let’s pray before I start eating like a heathen.”

They bowed their heads while Ian blessed the food.

She echoed his “amen” and gave his hand a light squeeze, sending a shock of heat up his arm.

He pulled his fingers out of her grasp and reached for his pizza. “So, have you forgiven me yet?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Ian. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just...overwhelmed, I guess.” She rested her head against the back of the couch, her hair fanning against a multicolored afghan.

He nudged her shoulder with his. “Still, if it’s too much, we can find someone else to paint. You know what the rooms look like. Choosing colors and all that stuff with Mom won’t be too bad, will it? Then volunteers can handle the rest.”

“No, I don’t want you to do that.” She shrugged, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “The Lord and me...we’ll get it figured out.”

“Maybe this is His way of saying it’s time to move on...to something new.”

“We’ll see. Did I see you sneak in a Cuppa Josie’s bag?”

“If I say yes, do you promise to keep me in the loop about how you’re dealing with the house?”

“Depends on what’s in the bag.”

“Josie’s chocolate macadamia nut brownies.”

Agnes closed her eyes and groaned. “Guess I’ll have to stick with one piece of pizza. I can’t afford to buy new jeans.”

“Believe me, Red. There’s nothing wrong with your jeans.” He threw his crust on his plate and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.

“Ian, I’m in to help with the house. Just let me work at my own pace. I promise to have the job done by your mama’s deadline.”

“You bet. With your talents and my brawn...” He paused to flex his muscles. “We can whip that house into shape in time for Zoe to come home.”

“When are you going to find time to remodel a house in a few short months? Your job keeps you going all over the county. And when you’re not working, you’re harassing me or hauling your nephew to practice.”

“Nice to know you worry about me.” He winked at her.

He liked knowing she cared.

She bumped him with her shoulder. “Well, someone has to.”

“I’ve wanted to fix houses since we took that mission trip over spring break in high school—you remember, when we helped that family fix their house after the hurricane? If I can help others, then I’ll make the time to do it.”

“You talked about my dreams, but when are you going to start living yours?”

“Being a claims adjuster is my job. Pursuing my passion of restoring houses feels a little out of reach. Opening Agape House and bringing Zoe home take priority. My dreams can wait once my family is restored.”

“You’re a good man, Ian, but what about starting your own family?”

“We talked about this, Red.” He scoffed and shook his head. “My life is crazy. I don’t have time right now. I didn’t spend enough time with Emily, remember?”

Dating women who weren’t Red didn’t appeal to him. He needed to focus on convincing her he was the right man for her.

“You need some fun in your life.”

“Yeah, well, that’s going to have to wait.” He stood and reached for his empty plate. “Sorry to eat and run, but I have to pick up Griffin from his buddy’s house.”

Red took his plate and set it on top of hers. “How’s that cute little nephew of yours doing?”

“He’d hate hearing you calling him cute or little. Being eight is a big deal, you know. Counting down the days to when he turns nine, which is around the time Zoe should be home.”

“He sure misses his mama.”

“We all do. If I had taken her call that night, then Zoe would be raising her kid instead of Mom and Dad.”

“You said we can’t focus on the ‘if onlys’ in life. Zoe chose to drink and drive, resulting in the loss of someone’s life. It’s tragic, but that’s not your burden to carry.” Red squeezed his shoulder.

Her gentle touch sparked his skin through his shirt. He reached for her hand and brushed a soft kiss across her fingers. “Says the queen burden carrier.”

She pulled her hands away and fisted them under her arms. “Has your dad come around?”

Ian crossed to the door and gripped the doorknob. “Nope, still as stubborn as ever. Thank God he doesn’t take out his anger at my sister on Griffin. He dotes on the kid.”

“Maybe Agape House is what y’all need.”

“I hope so, Red. At least for Griff’s sake. I don’t know how much more he can take. My sister’s made plenty of poor choices. Her kid doesn’t need to suffer because of them.”

“The rest of her life will be shaped by those choices. You need to stop dwelling on the false guilt you carry and focus on supporting Zoe’s fresh start and consider your own future.”

Didn’t she realize he couldn’t consider his future without her in it?


Chapter Three

When Mama decided she was done celebrating birthdays because they made her feel old, Agnes figured she’d better make her last party a doozy, even if Mama grumbled about turning sixty.

Aqua, yellow and lime-green balloons tied to the cedar rails rimming Mama’s back deck danced in the humid air. Streamers fluttered like kite tails. At least the rain held off, and the cloud cover kept the sun from baking the guests.

Agnes jammed the knife down the center of a buttercream-yellow rose, slid the piece of birthday cake onto a paper plate and handed it to Tyler Chase, Stephen and Lindsey’s son.

“Thanks, Miss Agnes.” He trotted off, trying to shove a forkful of cake in his mouth before skittering down the deck steps to the yard.

She started to call out for him to slow down, but Lindsey snatched him first.

Satisfied the child wasn’t about to impale his tonsils, Agnes checked the pitchers of sweet tea and lemonade to make sure they were at least half-full.

Then she reached for her camera to snap a few more pictures of guests sitting at the borrowed picnic tables covered in white tablecloths that dotted the backyard and of church friends gathered inside the gazebo Daddy had built for Mama as a twenty-fifth anniversary present.

Agnes zoomed in on Mama’s group of Sunday school terrors kneeling on the stones ringing the handmade koi pond, harassing the fat orange fish darting under the floating lily pads.

Sitting in the shade with her friends, Mama seemed to be enjoying herself as they watched the couples from church play cornhole.

Agnes focused on Ian. Still dressed in his tan dress pants and white polo shirt from church, he juggled the four corn-filled bags. He stepped forward and tossed one of the bags into the cornhole board across the grass. His shirt stretched across his back. His muscled forearms rippled.

Agnes’s face burned at the memory of his strong hands on her back when he hugged her.

Ian turned, filling her viewfinder with his wind-tossed hair and wide grin. She snapped as he winked and waved at her. Her heart somersaulted against her ribs.

Josie stepped through the sliding glass door onto the deck with a fresh carton of vanilla ice cream. She set it in a tub of ice next to the sundae fixings, then tossed the empty carton into the trash can at the bottom of the steps.

“With an arm like that, maybe you should be joining your hubby in tossing those corn bags.”

“Nah, I couldn’t show him up in front of his friends.” Josie grabbed a strawberry from the watermelon fruit basket and leaned against the railing. “So, did you talk to your mom yet?”

Agnes reached for her camera again and focused on Josie’s expression as she smiled and reached for another berry. “Haven’t had time. It’s been a whirlwind weekend.”

Agnes set the camera down and reached for her sweet tea, pressing the cool glass against her heated cheeks. “I’ll talk to her after everyone leaves.”

“Talk to who, darlin’?”

Hearing Mama’s voice, Agnes stiffened. The woman had the stealth of a polecat. Agnes turned to find Mama climbing the deck stairs.

The wind ruffled the spiky points of Mama’s short cap of snowy hair. Hours spent tending to her gardens this spring afforded a sun-kissed glow across her narrow face. Her white crocheted sweater over a peacock blue and lime-green printed dress shaved a decade off her years. Agnes hoped she would age as gracefully.

“I thought you were watching the cornhole game. Would you like more lemonade, or maybe another piece of cake?” Agnes asked her.

“Agnes Joy, what’s going on?” Mama crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

Josie scooted along the deck railing toward the stairs and gestured she was going to the backyard.

Traitor.

Sighing, Agnes wiped her hands on the damp cloth on the edge of the table. Like a hound treeing a racoon, Mama wouldn’t leave well enough alone until Agnes told her. “No need to worry, but my building’s been sold. I have about a month to find a new place.”

Mama pressed a hand to her chest and gripped the edge of the table. “Oh, my lands, that’s absolutely perfect.”

So much for Mama freaking out.

“What are you talking about?”

“The timing, darlin’.”

“Perfect timing for what?”

“I was just telling the girls your memaw asked me to come back to Texas for the summer and help her rid up the house before she puts it up for sale. She wants to move into a condo for seniors. Less fuss.”

“When was this? You hadn’t said anything about it.”

“I held off committing to the whole summer because I promised to help Charlotte with Agape House. Plus, I’d need someone to keep an eye on things.” Mama waved a hand over the yard, then turned back to Agnes. “So this works out perfectly. We’ll store your things in the garage, and you can stay here. Since you won’t have to pay rent, you can save that money for the dream house you’re always talking about.”

Clarence and Eliza’s cottage.

They’d agreed to sell her the house, but she hadn’t had time to tell Mama all the particulars. Saving rent money and working at Agape House would help her to own the cottage a little sooner. So why wasn’t she jumping on Mama’s offer?

“I don’t know, Mama. I’m a little old to be moving back home, don’t you think?”

“Who said anything about moving back home? You’d be doing me a favor. Unless you’d rather not, of course....” Mama’s not-so-innocent sidelong glance and words frosted Agnes with a layer of guilt as thick as the buttercream frosting on her birthday cake.

“Of course I want to help, Mama. But...”

So maybe Agnes didn’t love the old brick building with its creaky pipes, temperamental heating and noisy neighbors, but the apartment had been hers to do as she pleased within the boundaries of her lease.

In less than a month, though, she’d need to find something else anyway.

What other choice did she have? Scan the classifieds for some crummy rental that fit in her budget?

She sighed. “I just need to stand on my own two feet.”

She might get knocked down, but she wouldn’t stay down.

“Agnes, your stubborn pride is your biggest flaw. You know that, right? I won’t even be here. You’ll have the house to yourself and can do plenty of standing.”

Agnes glanced at the freshly tilled garden that ran along the property separating Mama’s from Ian’s parents’. “When are you planning to leave?”

“Well, now, that depends on you. If you agree, then I can fly out next week.”

“Why so soon?”

“Why not? The sooner I get out there, the sooner I can help Memaw.” Mama wrapped an arm around Agnes’s shoulders and gave her a side hug. “This benefits both of us. You’ll see.”

No use in arguing with Mama once something stuck in her head.

Agnes’s eyes drifted to Ian talking with Nick Brennan and Stephen Chase. What would he think of her being next door for the summer?

More important, would she even be able to think of living next door to him?

Maybe they could spend some time on the dock the way they did in the past. Maybe she could put her lingering feelings for him to rest once and forever.

Not likely.

* * *

Ian wandered over to the table for a piece of Mary’s birthday cake. He wanted to see Red more than he wanted that cake.

All afternoon he tried to keep from staring at her, but with the way the yellow sleeveless dress twirled around her shapely legs or her laugh floated through the air...it was a wonder he had managed to score any points playing cornhole.

Now that the others had decided to take a break, he snuck away before they started a new game.

“Nice party, Red.” He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his Dockers and leaned against the deck railing.

“Thanks, Ian. I hear your team won.”

“Yes, the red team scored twenty-one points first. Oh, yeah, we rock.”

“Nice to see you’re a gracious winner. Want some cake?”

“Sure. Thanks.” He took the paper plate she held out to him and dug his fork through the white frosting and put it into his mouth. “It’s good. So, how many pieces have you had?”

“That’s not important. You just enjoy your cake.”

“Manning the cake table? Pretty sweet setup, if you ask me. You can have your cake, and no one will notice if you have an extra piece or two...or six.” He winked and shoved another bite in his mouth.

“I don’t believe anyone asked. A gentleman wouldn’t notice such things.” Agnes pinched a glob of frosting off the corner of his piece and stuck it in her mouth.

“You okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I see the smile, but the light in your eyes is snuffed out.”

“I’m wearing sunglasses, Ian. Little hard to see any kind of light. Mama invited me to spend the summer here while she hangs out with my memaw back in Texas.”

Ian’s stomach jumped. His eyes skimmed his parents’ house that edged Mary’s property.

Agnes next door all summer?

Yes, please.

In his head, he did a few fist pumps and shouted, Woo-hoo! at the top of his lungs. He shrugged. “That’d be cool.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? Why’s that? You and your mom get along pretty well.”

“Yes, we do, but she won’t be here if I say yes.”

“What’s the problem? She doesn’t want to go?”

“She does, and I’m sure she’ll have a great time. It’s just...”

“So what’s holding you back?”

“I’m a little old to be moving home again.”

“There’s a difference between house-sitting and moving back in. I moved back home to help Mom and Dad with Griffin. It’s definitely not permanent.”

“True. If I’m not paying rent for the summer, then I could put that money toward a down payment for the cottage.”

“So it sounds like a win-win for everyone.” Including him.

With Red next door—even for a couple of months—he could show her he was more than a buddy, the guy next door, but the guy she needed to marry.

But right now he had to get something off his chest...something that wouldn’t make her happy.

He jerked his head toward the lake. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Red waved a hand across the yard. “I can’t leave the party.”

“Just to the dock. I need to talk to you about something.”

“What’s going on? You look serious.”

“Let’s walk.”

He waited while she crossed the yard to tell Mary where she was headed. Mary lifted a hand and waved. He returned the gesture, then smothered a smile as Mary and her friends put their heads together behind Red’s back. He could only imagine what they were saying. And he figured Red wouldn’t like it.

They cut through the shrubs that ran between both properties. Ian shoved his hands in his front pockets. It would’ve been so easy to slip his fingers around hers. But she’d probably slap him or shove him into the chilly lake.

The gravel path coiled through the trees. Red teetered on the stones in those ridiculous heels.

She stopped and placed a hand on his arm. “Hold on. I have a pebble in my shoe.”

“Wear something practical, and you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“What do you know about fashion? You live in faded jeans, shorts or dress pants when you have to be in the office.” Red slipped the sandal off her foot and brushed away the bits of gravel.

“Woman, one of these days you’re going to break a leg wearing those crazy things.”

“At least I’ll look cute doing it.”

“Believe me, Red, you could ditch the shoes and still outshine every female in this town.” He caught a movement behind her.

A garter snake slithered across the path less than a foot behind her. If she looked back...

Grasping under her arms, he pulled her to her feet and wrapped her against his chest.

She pushed away and stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What’s that all about?”

Ian tightened his arms and glanced over her shoulder. The weeds swayed as the snake disappeared. “I didn’t want you to back up and sit on the garter snake behind you.”

She screeched, causing him to wince and drop his ear to his shoulder, and practically jumped into his arms. Not that he was complaining. “Relax, Red. It’s gone.”

He turned her gently so she stood behind him but could see the clear path. He reached for her hand, giving it a little tug. “Come on. Let’s go sit on the dock. I’ll protect you.”

“Thanks for not laughing at me, Ian.” She clung to his arm and rested her head against his shoulder.

He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her, squeezing gently. If only he could hold her for the next fifty or sixty years. “I’ll tease you about a lot of things, but your fears aren’t one of them.” He held her hand as she stepped over a muddy patch between the end of the path and the beginning of the dock.

Waves lapped at the shore. A frog croaked in the weeds. Somewhere along the water’s edge, a couple of ducks quacked, joining in the chorus. Baked earth mingled with the fishy scent permeating the air.

Red’s heels clomped on the wooden dock. Their shadows stretched over the blue water. Dad’s old aluminum rowboat rocked and knocked against the dock. Tall grasses sprouted between the weathered boards.

At the end of the dock, they settled in two sun-warmed Adirondack chairs, one painted lemon-yellow and the other fire-engine red.

Agnes pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and raised her face toward trails of late afternoon sunshine streaking across the dusky sky. She didn’t say anything for a moment. Sliding her glasses back on her face, she faced him. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Sighing, Ian rested his head against the back of the chair, kicked off his shoes and toed off his dress socks. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.”

“What’s the matter? Did you find someone who wasn’t afraid of her own shadow in that place?”

“No, nothing like that.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s just that...well, there may not be an Agape House.”

“Why? What happened?”

Ian pushed himself out of his chair and stood on the edge of the dock. He curled his toes over the rough-edged boards and crossed his arms over his chest to ease some of the pressure building behind his ribs.

“Dad’s been against this project from the beginning, but Mom wants Zoe to have the best chance at a new life. When Dad learned Mom had signed the papers on behalf of the board, he packed a bag and headed for the cabin.”

“He moved out?”

Ian shrugged. “He didn’t come home last night.”

“So that’s why he didn’t come today?” She stood and moved next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Ian. What does Pete have against Agape House?”

“He had a rough childhood with alcoholic parents. He used to preach to us about the dangers of alcohol. After Zoe’s arrest, Dad hasn’t been the same. He resigned from the city council, stepped down from the church board and holes up in his office. He refuses to visit her in prison.”

“But she’s his daughter.”

He rolled up his pant legs and dropped his feet in the water. He sucked in a breath at the shock of cold against his warm feet. “Try telling him that. He’s acting like a jerk. Mom’s upset. Griff keeps asking questions we can’t answer.”

“What does your mama want to do?”

“Keep her marriage together and bring her daughter home. Dad’s demanding the impossible.”

“Well, we need to talk some sense into him.” Red slipped off her sandals and sat next to him, dipping her toes in the water.

“We?” He loved the way she teamed with him, but this was his family’s problem. She had her own issues to work out.

“I have a stake in this now, too, you know.” She bumped her shoulder against his.

Right, the cottage.

The sunlight dripped across the top of her head, catching the ginger glints in her hair and shading her face. She appeared to be sixteen instead of thirty-six.

His thoughts drifted back a couple of decades and remembered their almost daily talks on the docks. Seemed that no matter what the problem was, they could work it out sitting here with their feet in the water. If only things could be resolved as simply now.

He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers, squeezing gently. “This is not your problem, Red.”

She lifted their joined hands and kissed his knuckles before releasing her fingers. “Your daddy will come around.”

He loved the feel of her lips against his skin. He’d take the knuckle kiss for now, but one of these days he hoped for the chance to feel her lips on his. And not in the name of friendship either.

“How about if I pay Pete a visit and see if I can talk to him?”

He scowled at her. The woman didn’t listen. “No, Red. You’re not fighting my battles.”

“Don’t be a fool, Ian.” She dipped her hand in the water and flicked his face. “Maybe Pete just needed to be reminded about the power of second chances.”

Ian jerked as the icy drops landed on his hot skin. He wiped his eyes with the hem of his shirt. “How can restoring my family be pulling us apart?”

Agnes lifted her feet out of the water and stood. She brushed off the back of her dress, then reached for her sandals. “Like you said yesterday—sometimes it takes peeling away the layers to find the promise for the future.”


Chapter Four

Agnes parked her restored 1964 Dodge Dart convertible in front of the James family cabin by the lake, shut off the engine and tossed her scarf onto the red vinyl passenger seat. She slid out from behind the wheel and slammed the door, the sound echoing along the hillside.

The afternoon wind stirred the pines, maples and oaks cradling the cabin. The upturned leaves and air saturated with humidity signaled rain close at hand.

She crossed the gravel parking area and faced the log cabin that had been in the James family for over one hundred years.

Decades of sunshine aged the hand-cut logs to a weathered gray. She climbed the three wide steps, passed the black rocker by the door and lifted the duck-shaped door knocker on the russet-stained pine door.

“It’s open,” a deep voice boomed from inside.

Agnes opened the door and sucked in a breath tinged with paint solvent and coffee. “Hey, Pete.”

Pete James glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to the large canvas resting on a wooden easel standing in front of the window facing the lake. “Agnes Joy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dressed in khaki shorts and a red T-shirt, he held a splattered palette in one hand and brandished crimson paint against the canvas like an expert swordsman. He wore a James & Son Insurance baseball hat backward on his head, covering his cropped salt-and-pepper hair.

Agnes crossed the hardwood floor and dropped a kiss on his whiskered cheek. “Ian’s caught up with a client and asked if I’d swing by and pick up Griffin for him. They’re leaving for Vanderfield in about forty-five minutes.”

“Bubba’s in the yard, playing fetch with Amos.” He nodded toward the window where Griffin threw a yellow tennis ball overhand. The golden retriever leaped in the air and caught the ball in his strong jaws.

“Missed you at Mama’s birthday yesterday.”

“Give Mary my best.” He offered no other explanation for his absence. Instead he continued to paint.

“What are you working on?”

“Cowboy in a canyon. Trying to steal as much natural light as I can before the cloud cover takes it away.”

“It’s quite muggy out there.”

“Rain’s in the forecast.”

She didn’t come to talk about the weather. Picking up Griffin was a decent excuse to try and get Pete to see some reason. Her nerves cinched the loose knot in her stomach.

“Pete, when we moved to Shelby Lake, you helped Daddy dry out, giving us a second chance at being a real family.”

“Agnes Joy, I love your company, but if my family sent you to change my mind, you’d best grab Bubba and head on your way.”

Just like Pete to speak his mind.

“Are you kidding? If Ian knew I was talking about this, he’d be madder than a wet hen. I’m just saying without you, Daddy would’ve struggled to stay sober.”

“Chuck was tougher than you think, Agnes.” Pete set down his brush to reach for his coffee cup. “The choice was his.”

“Agape House can be the second chance Zoe needs to turn her life around—like my daddy did.” Agnes pressed her back against the windowsill, enjoying the warm air whispering across her neck. “How can you turn your back on your daughter?”

“Ever hear of tough love, Agnes?”

“There’s tough love, and there’s rejection.”

She spied a stack of canvases leaning below the window. Without asking for permission, she flipped through them, stopping at the last one that showed two sets of hands—larger ones cupping a smaller set that held a butterfly. Recognizing the wing-shaped birthmark on the smaller hand, Agnes realized Pete had painted Zoe’s hands.

Oh, Pete...

Staring at the canvas, Pete wiped his hands on a rag, then walked to the window. With his back to her, he stared out at the trees and the lake.

“When I was a little older than Bubba, my parents died on Christmas Eve because they were too drunk to drive and decided to walk home. Instead they passed out in a snowbank and froze to death. No matter how many times they promised to change, they didn’t. Made me realize words were meaningless without actions to back them up.”

“Oh, Pete, I can’t even imagine.” Tears filled Agnes’s eyes. “You were a kid—you couldn’t have changed your parents. But you can help others get their lives back on track now.”

Pete whirled around, his eyebrows raised and his lips thinned. “People don’t change, Agnes. They tell you what you want to hear. Then the minute temptation strikes, they’re back to screwing up their lives again. Char and Ian will pour themselves into that place only to end disappointed when those women fall back into their old habits.”

“Give your family this chance to prove Zoe can turn her life around.”

“And when she doesn’t? What then? She’ll end up back behind bars, but she will have destroyed my wife, my son, my grandson...I can’t take that chance. I need to protect them.”

“How much protecting are you doing by holing up here instead of trying to work things out with your wife?”

A muscle jumped in the side of Pete’s jaw. He looked at her. “When did you get so sassy?”

“I’ve always been sassy, Pete. Much to my mama’s shame. You’re scared...nothing wrong with admitting it. Just don’t let that fear keep you from missing out on the incredible blessings God has in store for your family. I promise you—that’s one regret you will be responsible for.”

Amos barked from the porch a second before Griffin flung open the screen door and crashed into the room. “Agnes, what are you doing here?”

She blinked rapidly to dismiss the evidence of her emotions and stretched a Texas-sized smile across her face. With purposeful strides, she crossed the room and flung an arm around his sweaty shoulders. “I came to pick up the cutest boy in the county and take him back to his uncle.”

“Let me know when you find him.” The kid smirked as he headed for the sink. He filled up a glass with water, drank half, then poured the rest in Amos’s dish next to the stove.

His dark hair plastered to his sweaty head. Dirt skimmed his legs below the hem of his red basketball shorts. His yellow Shelby Lake Lions Soccer T-shirt had a tear in the hem. Not the best duds to wear to see his mama. Maybe he had time for a quick shower.

As if reading her mind, Pete nodded toward the staircase. “Hey, Bubba, grab a quick shower and put on clean clothes, but make it snappy because Agnes needs to get you back.”

“Okay, Grandpa. I bet I can be back down in five minutes, Agnes.”

“Take time to wash.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He scampered up the steps with Amos on his trail.

Before Agnes could resume her conversation with Pete, tires crunched in the driveway. A minute later, footsteps thumped on the porch; then Ian filled the doorway, a frown creasing his forehead. “What gives, Red? I thought you were meeting me to drop off Griffin.”

She glanced at her watch and swallowed a groan, then nodded toward Pete, who had his back to them. “I was talking with Pete and lost track of time.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed and a muscle jumped in the side of his jaw. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “About what?”

“The weather...rain is in the forecast.”

“Where’s Bubba? We need to get going.” He didn’t acknowledge his dad.

How could those two be in the same room and not say as much as a “hello”?

Agnes sighed and her eyes darted toward the staircase. “He’s in the shower but promises to be down in five.”

“Fine. I’ll wait outside.” Ian turned and pushed through the door.

“Ian...” She tossed a glance at Pete, who exhaled loudly and removed his ball cap to rake his hands through his hair. Feeling torn, she ventured onto the porch to check on Ian.

She found him around the corner, leaning on the railing. She touched his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Fine.” The flared nostrils and thinned lips betrayed his words.

“I didn’t mean to lose track of time.”

“Don’t sweat it. I can make up the time on the road.” He stared at the lake but clenched his jaw. “Did you and Dad have a nice little chat...about the weather?”

She refused to let his sarcastic tone ruffle her feathers. She crossed her arms and pressed her back against the railing. “Did I fight your battles? No. Did I stir the hornet’s nest? Maybe. We’re in this together, Ian. So stop your sulking, because you asked me to be a part of this.”

She longed to ease the worry and frustration from his brow. Pete and Ian shared many traits, including their stubbornness. She just hoped they’d come to a compromise before their family fell apart.

* * *

Little boys should be spending Saturday mornings eating sugary cereal while sprawled in front of the TV or kicking a soccer ball across the field. Not riding three hours to visit their mother in prison.

Griffin stared out the backseat window. Ian could only imagine what he’d thought of this trip every other Saturday for the past four years.

At least they didn’t have to make the trek alone.

He glanced at Red sitting in the passenger seat. “Sorry for being a jerk earlier. Thanks again for coming with us.”

“You’ve thanked me three times now. I get it—you’re appreciative...or else a big chicken to come by yourself.” She smiled to show she was teasing.

No, that wasn’t it...he simply wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.

And he did feel badly for acting like a jerk at the cabin. But that wasn’t her fault. Dad wouldn’t even look him in the eye like a man and say hello. But then he didn’t make much of an effort to greet him either. So they were both to blame.

Ian tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he approached the front gate of Vanderfield Women’s State Correctional Institution. He shifted the engine into Park and reached for his wallet. “I need your driver’s license.”

“I know the drill. Not my first rodeo.” She reached for her purse, dug the card out of her wallet and handed it to him.

He took it, then snagged Griffin’s state ID card out of the cup holder and handed all three IDs to the stern gray-uniformed guard.

Without a smile, the man checked their names against his visitors’ clipboard. He handed them back to Ian, then buzzed the front gate. “Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

The gates slid back, allowing Ian to drive down the familiar lane to the visitors’ parking lot in front of the prison that looked more like an old college than a correctional facility. Except for the snipers in the watchtowers and the rolled razor wire atop the high electric fencing surrounding the compound.

As soon as Ian shut off the engine, Griffin unbuckled his seat belt and scampered out the back door. Red rounded the front of the SUV and joined them. She ruffled Griffin’s hair. “Ready to go?”

“Yes. Did I tell you Mom’s training a new dog?” Griffin shielded his eyes as he looked at Red and shared about his mother’s participation in the prison’s canine training program.

“No, you didn’t. What kind?”

“A yellow Lab named Otis. She’s had him for two weeks. He sleeps with her and everything.”

“That’s cool. How long will she train this one?”

“She said eight weeks altogether.”

“Have you seen him yet?” Red finger-combed Griffin’s hair away from his face and straightened the collar on his red polo shirt.

“Nah, but Mom described him in her letter.”

“Let’s get inside so you can see him.” Placing a hand at the base of Griffin’s neck, Ian guided him toward the visitors’ entrance.

Inside the door, they emptied their pockets. Ian dropped his wallet, phone and car keys in a bin. Agnes placed her purse in another bin. They allowed Ian to keep three dollars in change to buy snacks while visiting Zoe.

Griffin ran ahead and pulled on the heavy glass door that opened into the visitors’ area.

Cinder block walls painted tan, green vinyl-covered chairs and several scarred wooden tables filled the room. Inmates and their families sat at most of the tables. Griffin scuttled to their usual place in the corner closest to the snack machine and pulled out a chair, its feet screeching against the gleaming tile floor.

Ian gave their names to the guard standing watch near the entrance to the prison cell blocks. He placed his hand on the small of Red’s back and guided her toward the table where Griffin sat on the edge of his chair, bouncing his knee and keeping his eyes glued to the door leading to the cells.

The kid’s excitement at seeing his mom made Ian more determined than ever to get Agape House up and running.

About five minutes later, a door buzzed.

Zoe entered the room with Otis, the new yellow Lab Griffin mentioned his mom training as part of her role in the prison’s dog training program for almost three years.

“Mom!” A grin crossed Griffin’s face. He bolted out of his chair, but Ian caught him around the waist and pulled him back.

“You have to stay at the table. Remember? We can’t break the rules.”

“Sorry. I just want to give her a hug.” His bottom lip popped out.

Red draped an arm around his shoulders. “As soon as she comes to the table, you can.”

With her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing the issued prison orange and tan slip-on shoes, Zoe hurried to their table and commanded Otis to sit.

Griffin pushed off Red’s arm and flung himself at his mother. Zoe crushed him against her chest and buried her face into his neck. She brushed his hair off his forehead and kissed his temple, tears glazing her eyes.

Ian blinked back the wetness that warmed the backs of his eyes and swallowed the lump clogging his throat.

Their greetings and departures got to him every time.

Red reached for his hand and squeezed gently. He returned the gesture, thankful for the hundredth time she had agreed to join them today. He hated these trips, but he’d do it for Griffin and Zoe.

Ian caught the scowl marring the guard’s face. They discouraged prolonged physical contact. What damage could a kid hugging his mother do? But they needed to play by the rules so they could keep visiting.

He caught her in a hug, then disengaged Griffin’s arms from around his mother’s neck. “Come on, Bubba. Let your mom sit.”

After giving Red a quick hug, Zoe sat on one side and they sat across from her, as was procedure. A hug at greeting and one at departure, but no physical contact during the visit.

Ian didn’t need to look under the table to know Zoe had her hands balled into fists in her lap. Her eyes drank in Griffin’s appearance, longing creasing her face. Longing that made him even more determined to bring his sister home. While Griffin filled his mom in on what was happening at school and with soccer, Ian waited for a pause in their conversation to bring up the latest with Agape House.




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