Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Mending The Widow′s Heart

Mending The Widow's Heart
Mia Ross
The Widow’s New BeginningSpending the summer with her son in a quiet New England town will give military widow Holly Andrews much-needed breathing space. But that peace is quickly disturbed! From her first meeting with Sam Calhoun, a contractor working on her aunt’s house, there’s a surprising kinship. The handsome veteran is capable, smart and charming—and fighting a battle with pain and loss that Holly can easily understand. Working on a youth baseball league with the plucky Southern single mom rekindles dreams Sam had all but abandoned. He knows Holly hadn’t planned to stay, but in Liberty Creek, temporary has a way of turning into forever…Liberty Creek: Love takes root in a New England town


The Widow’s New Beginning
Spending the summer with her son in a quiet New England town will give military widow Holly Andrews much-needed breathing space. But that peace is quickly disturbed! From her first meeting with Sam Calhoun, a contractor working on her aunt’s house, there’s a surprising kinship. The handsome veteran is capable, smart and charming—and fighting a battle with pain and loss that Holly can easily understand. Working on a youth baseball league with the plucky Southern single mom rekindles dreams Sam had all but abandoned. He knows Holly hadn’t planned to stay, but in Liberty Creek, temporary has a way of turning into forever...
“I hate to take up the rest of your day.”
“Not a problem.”
A blossoming smile made its way across her face, reminding him of the way the sun came up over the nearby hills every morning. The poetic comparison was so unlike him, he was beginning to wonder if he was coming down with something.
“You’re a nice guy, Sam.”
Her sweet, no-frills compliment trickled into a part of him that had been cold and dead for so long, he’d begun to think it would stay that way. He found himself smiling back at her. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
She didn’t say anything more, but the lingering gaze she gave him before looking out the passenger window made his heart roll over in his chest. Normally cautious when it came to relationships, he wasn’t one to go all mushy over a woman the first time he met her.
But this one had gotten to him on some level that he didn’t quite understand. One thing he knew for sure, though: he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Dear Reader (#u5cc924aa-cd0f-5887-a101-e9ba2f9fb7e7),
Thanks so much for following me to Liberty Creek!
Months ago, I stumbled across a picture of a quaint New England town, and the wheels in my head started spinning. My reaction to the back-in-time feeling became Holly’s, and her story began to take shape. Spunky as she was, she had a lot more to contend with than she realized, which is something many of us can relate to. Often, just when we think we’ve got a handle on what’s going on around us, things change, and we have to adjust to the new reality we face. It isn’t easy, but Holly’s determination and unshakable faith—along with her love for her son—kept her going.
When Sam Calhoun appeared in that very first scene, I didn’t know his whole story yet, but I knew it was worth telling. Part of him was stranded in the past, no matter how hard he tried to reclaim control of his life. Once he found a way to forgive himself—and God—for Nate’s death, he was finally able to embrace a future with the family he’d given up hoping for. So many military veterans carry burdens like his, experiences that make it difficult for them to resume the lives they enjoyed before their service. The courage they display every day is inspiring. With this story, I hope I’ve honored the sacrifices they and their families have made to keep our country safer.
This is the first of four books set in Liberty Creek, and I’m thrilled to be working on another series for Love Inspired. If you’d like to stop in and see what I’ve been up to, you’ll find me online at www.miaross.com (http://www.miaross.com), Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads. While you’re there, send me a message in your favorite format. I’d love to hear from you!
Mia Ross
MIA ROSS loves great stories. She enjoys reading about fascinating people, long-ago times and exotic places. But only for a little while, because her reality is pretty sweet. Married to her college sweetheart, she’s the proud mom of two amazing kids, whose schedules keep her hopping. Busy as she is, she can’t imagine trading her life for anyone else’s—and she has a pretty good imagination. You can visit her online at miaross.com (http://www.miaross.com).
Mending the Widow’s Heart
Mia Ross


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Be strong and courageous.
—Joshua 1:9
For all of our soldiers and their families
Acknowledgments (#u5cc924aa-cd0f-5887-a101-e9ba2f9fb7e7)
To Melissa Endlich and the dedicated staff at Love Inspired. These very talented folks help me make my books everything they can be.
More thanks to the gang at Seekerville (www.seekerville.net (http://www.seekerville.net)), a great place to hang out with readers—and writers.
I’ve been blessed with a wonderful network of supportive, encouraging family and friends. You inspire me every day!
Contents
Cover (#uc66491f0-ff0d-599d-bf00-43aa005276a0)
Back Cover Text (#uf61017e5-af3d-5af9-a693-b86fa8a50c57)
Introduction (#ue9a130b8-9a6f-531c-bdbd-0c5d30d73093)
Dear Reader (#udc7a726f-fa0d-5a6f-9491-23e581e219dc)
About the Author (#u8e1ace38-7315-5c0d-a0e2-c7248d665dca)
Title Page (#ubf337c49-f481-598b-994e-e82a8bfd9edd)
Bible Verse (#u51173cbb-cc6e-52d0-81af-73e71c4f7be3)
Dedication (#u5ce5ddcb-43a6-5c7a-943a-4325edd14560)
Acknowledgments (#u13b648c5-677a-54c7-804d-049088873744)
Chapter One (#uf1405a64-d35a-5ccc-9469-0407e38cb620)
Chapter Two (#ud1e1846e-be6e-5457-a3ba-a94d0f863c9d)
Chapter Three (#u66e2d0e8-18fb-57e4-9edb-d7a9cb6996c8)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u5cc924aa-cd0f-5887-a101-e9ba2f9fb7e7)
Holly Andrews was lost.
In the relatively tame wilds of New Hampshire, no less, and with a perfectly functioning navigation system. How it had happened, she had no clue, but as she swept a glance through the drizzly, empty landscape surrounding her, she couldn’t come to any other conclusion.
It was early June, and the trip from Boston north to Portsmouth had been easy enough. From there, the drive had gone so well, on wide highways bordered by enormous trees and mile after mile of wildflowers. For the past hour, though, she’d been hugging her side of a narrow two-lane road that could barely be classified as paved. So far, she’d narrowly avoided four humongous tractors, three runaway cows and a flock of white geese that had taken their sweet time crossing to a pond on the other side.
“Mom?”
Forcing sweetness into her voice to cover her irritation, she smiled into the rearview mirror at her eight-year-old son. “Yes, Chase?”
“Are we lost?”
“Of course not,” she insisted in the most upbeat voice she could manage. As a former military wife, she’d had plenty of practice with that. Tapping the navigation screen, she added, “The computer knows right where we are.”
“But do you?”
Sometimes she thought he was way too smart for his own good. Like his father, she added sadly. It had been two years since she’d buried him in a hero’s grave to honor his devotion to the country he’d loved. But every once in a while, when she least expected it, the darkness that had dominated the end of Brady’s life still reached out and ambushed her.
Calling up every ounce of determination she had, she pushed the grimness aside and focused on getting them to her aunt’s new home in the quaintly named village of Liberty Creek. After fighting the past for so long, Holly believed it would be refreshing to put that behind her and look to the future. With their savings nearly gone, her part-time retail work wouldn’t be enough to support them, and she recognized that a new career for her was an absolute must. The trouble was that while she’d been caring full-time for her family, she’d sunk to the bottom of her own priority list. Somewhere along the line she’d lost sight of the things she’d once enjoyed so much.
Time away from Boston was exactly what she needed to help her focus on what should come next. If she couldn’t figure out a way to be content there, she’d have no choice but to uproot them and start over somewhere else. She hated to take Chase from the only home he’d known, but she knew it would be better to move him soon so he could make new friends more easily than he would in high school.
But right now, she needed to find this seemingly invisible town. She was just about to pull over and put out an SOS when she noticed a crisp white sign up ahead.
Welcome to Liberty Creek.
She followed the gentle curve, craning her neck to make sure no surprises popped up out of the mist. At least now she could be sure she was in the right place. Her thought was promptly confirmed by the system chirping, “You have reached your destination.”
“Yeah, thanks for nothing,” Holly muttered, reaching over to mute the annoying computer voice. Now that the car was silent, she could make out the smack of large raindrops as they began pelting the windshield. When she switched on the wipers she’d forgotten to replace before leaving, they left unhelpful streaks across the bug-spattered glass. Perfect. For Chase’s sake, she summoned a chipper tone. “Almost there.”
“Good job, Mom. I knew you could do it.”
Her ray of sunshine, she mused with a smile. Ever since the moment when the delivery room nurse settled him in Holly’s arms, Chase had been the single bright spot in more of her days than she cared to recall. She honestly had no idea where she’d be without him.
“I forgot to mention that I got an email from your teacher this morning. You aced the assessment they had you take to let you leave school a couple weeks early.”
“That’s cool,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone that told her he’d expected the result. “The tests were easy, and Mrs. Graves said I finished in record time.”
“So we should be looking at colleges, then?” Though she was teasing, she was immensely proud of Chase’s accomplishments, both in and out of the classroom. Considering all they’d been through as a family, it was a blessing to know that her boy had managed to keep his head on straight.
“Maybe next year. I’m hoping to get Miss Farmer for third grade.”
His comment gave her a twinge of guilt for her earlier thoughts about moving, but she shoved the negative emotion aside. “Why is that?”
“She likes the Red Sox,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.
But Holly knew him better than that, and she couldn’t help smiling. “What else?”
“Well...” He stalled, then laughed. “She’s pretty, and she adopted a dog from a shelter and named him Fenway.”
That sounded more like it, Holly thought as she navigated yet another turn. The weak afternoon light did little to cut through the descending fog, and she had to really concentrate to keep her car on the proper side of the unmarked road. Because she was focusing so intently on that, her next glance into the distance made her squeak with surprise and hit the brakes.
There, not twenty feet away, stood a one-lane covered bridge. Sporting faded white paint and a walkway along one side, it conjured up all the Currier and Ives Christmas cards she’d gotten over the years. As she drove across the wooden planking and out the other end, the mist parted around a scene straight out of an artist’s dream: a village that looked like it had been built centuries ago and had somehow managed to stay there.
Buildings made of brick and classic New England clapboards lined Main Street, their green-and-white-striped awnings dripping water onto people scurrying to get out of the rain. The street was paved, but well-worn cobblestones ran along both sides in a charming nod to the past. In the square, a white gazebo was nestled under massive trees that looked old enough to predate the town, if that was even possible. The business district covered less than three blocks, so it took her about two seconds to find the place she was looking for: Ellie’s Bakery and Bike Rentals.
After parking in an open spot across the street, she swiveled to look back at Chase. “It’s pouring, and I should only be a sec. Do you want to wait here where it’s dry?”
“I kind of have to use the bathroom.”
Grinning, she tilted her head. “Kind of?” He nodded, and she said, “Let’s go, then.”
As he unbuckled his seat belt, she caught herself remembering all the years of dealing with car seats and toddler boosters. Had it really been just a year ago that he’d outgrown the last of them? Mom was right—your own childhood dragged by, but when you were a mom, your kids grew up at warp speed.
Since the rain seemed to have settled in for the duration, Holly pulled up the hood on Chase’s sweatshirt, and they made a run for the antique front door. From what she could see through the glass, the place looked deserted. There was no Closed sign posted, so she yanked on the brass handle and was relieved when the door opened. She could hear muted big band music playing in the kitchen, but out front the scattered tables and long lunch counter stood completely empty.
“Hello?” She waited for a moment, then called out again.
She was just about to give up when something ominous rumbled underneath a set of old-fashioned ice-cream soda dispensers. It sounded like a displeased grizzly bear, and she instinctively drew Chase back a step when a pair of enormous hands appeared on the countertop. They were connected to a set of muscular forearms clad in denim, and as their owner appeared, it was all she could do to keep from turning and bolting back the way they’d come.
Six and a half feet, easy, he brought to mind the massive trees in the square. Tall, unyielding, built to withstand a storm and keep on going. His light brown hair was a little too long for her taste, and his icy blue eyes held a laser sharpness that would make anyone think twice about approaching him. “Can I help you?”
His less-than-friendly demeanor was off-putting, but she forced herself to smile. “I’m so sorry to intrude like this, but I’m Holly Andrews. Daphne Mills’s niece,” she added, hoping that dropping her famous aunt’s name would gain her some points. It didn’t seem to work, but he didn’t ask her to leave, so she boldly forged ahead. “When she hurt her back, she asked us to come help out until she feels better. We drove up from Boston today, and she said she was going to leave an envelope for me here.”
The man’s eyes darkened to a stony gray, and Holly replayed her introduction in her head, wondering what she might have said to warrant such a cool reaction. But the gloomy look vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and she chalked her impression up to a long drive and the cloudy weather.
“Daphne mentioned something about that to me the other day,” he finally answered. “I think Gran put it behind here somewhere.”
As he began to disappear under the counter again, she moved forward to get his attention. “I hate to bother you, but my son needs to use the restroom. Could you point it out for us?”
He obliged her, and Chase zoomed off in the direction the man had nodded. That left Holly more or less alone with a stranger, and since he was obviously a friend of her favorite aunt, she decided that just wouldn’t do. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
He muttered something beneath his breath and rose with a grimace. “Yeah, I still forget sometimes. Sam Calhoun. I’d shake your hand, but—” Frowning, he showed her his filthy palms.
The collection of grim expressions he’d displayed, combined with his comment about sometimes forgetting to introduce himself, intrigued her more than they should have. Something about him screamed “wounded,” but she couldn’t quite figure out why. Then she noticed the outline of something rectangular dangling under his T-shirt, and she had her answer. “Military, right?”
“I was an Army Ranger.” His eyes narrowed into cynical slits. “How’d you know?”
“Just a hunch.” She nearly left it at that, then recalled her therapist’s advice about not hiding her difficult past and took a quiet breath before explaining. “My late husband, Brady, was a Marine.”
The chill in Sam’s eyes warmed a bit, and he gave her a look filled with the sympathy of someone all too familiar with her circumstances. Fortunately, Chase trotted in to rejoin them, saving her the awkwardness of either explaining further or pretending that there was nothing more to tell.
More than once, she’d caught herself wondering how things would be for her now if she’d never met Brady in the first place. But then she wouldn’t have Chase, and her life was infinitely better for being his mom. So, despite the fact that Brady had caused her more heartache than she’d once thought humanly possible, she did her best to feel grateful for the good things he’d left behind.
“Chase, this is Sam Calhoun, a friend of Aunt Daphne’s. Sam, this is my son, Chase.”
Her son stared up at the towering man but bravely held his hand out over the counter. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
A hint of a smile lifted the corner of Sam’s mouth as they shook. “Same here.”
Chase’s blue eyes drifted away, lighting on a glass display case filled with several varieties of cookies. “Are those fresh?”
“Kids like to stop in on their way home from school, so my grandmother makes sure there’s snacks for them to enjoy. She brought ’em outta the kitchen about an hour ago. Is that fresh enough for you?”
Chase nodded, and Sam motioned them to two stools. After washing his hands, he got them each a plate and set a delicious-smelling assortment in front of them. “Help yourselves, on the house.” When Holly opened her mouth to object, he cut her off. “You’re both soaked from the rain. It’s the least I can do.”
Deciding it would be rude to refuse his kind gesture, she chose one covered in chocolate icing and sprinkles. When she bit into it, it fell apart in her mouth as she hummed in appreciation. “Amazing. Now that I’ve heard it again, Calhoun sounds familiar. Is that the name I saw on the brass sign next to the bridge?”
Pride softened Sam’s angular features, and he nodded. “In 1820, Jeremiah Calhoun and his two brothers crossed the creek with nothing to their names but three teams of oxen and their wagons. They were top-notch blacksmiths, but there was no ironworks around here at the time. They opened Liberty Creek Forge to supply metal for themselves and other businesses that had started springing up. They built the bridge a couple years later so folks could get here easier. Some of them liked the area well enough to stick around.”
“And the rest is history,” she said, smiling at the appealing homespun story.
Having been raised in Savannah, she had a reverence for the past that had followed her throughout her life. She’d hoped to use that to create some kind of connection with this enigmatic man, but her efforts failed miserably. For some reason, the tentative light in his eyes dimmed, leaving them a flat grayish-blue that made her think of the storm clouds still hovering outside the windows.
Looking away, he pulled a pint carton of milk out of a cooler for Chase, then took two sturdy-looking mugs from a set of open shelves that ran the length of the wall opposite where they were sitting. “There’s a new pot of coffee. Would you like some?”
“Please.” One sip nearly put her on the floor, but she managed to swallow the jolt of caffeine without gagging. She reached out for a bowl of nondairy creamer and emptied a few of the thimble-sized portions into her mug.
“Too strong?”
Apparently, Sam was more observant than most, and she smiled to ease any insult she might have caused. “A little. I’m not used to coffee that’ll hold a spoon upright.”
“Sorry.”
It occurred to her that when he’d been relaying the story of his family’s legacy, Sam had seemed comfortable enough talking to her. But now that they were speaking more spontaneously, his conversational style was decidedly sparser. It reminded her of an actor who was adept at delivering his lines but stumbled while fielding questions during an interview.
She’d seen that kind of behavior many times at the veterans’ hospital, and she suspected that Sam was still waging a battle against something that had followed him home from wherever he’d been stationed. While Holly felt compassion for the former soldier, warning bells were clanging in her head so loudly, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Sam could hear them, too.
Still struggling to leave those horrific memories behind, she was committed to starting a new life with her son as far from the military as she could get. She was rapidly approaching thirty, and now that she’d made it through the worst storm she could imagine, it was time to make some serious plans for the future. For both her and Chase.
They’d spend their summer with Aunt Daphne, getting her back on her feet and enjoying this picturesque part of New Hampshire to the hilt. Then, in August, Holly would be ready to make some solid decisions about their futures and get Chase registered in a new school if they found themselves somewhere other than Boston. Nowhere in those plans did she have the time or the energy to take on another emotionally scarred soldier who may or may not become whole again. Chase was only six when Brady died, so he had hazy images of his father. To her mind, his ignorance was a blessing considering the tragic way Brady’s life had ended.
But now her son was old enough to get attached to people and be devastated if they were suddenly yanked out of his life. For her sake and Chase’s, Holly knew that the smartest thing she could do was keep Sam Calhoun at a nice, safe distance.
* * *
Sam had never been the chatty type.
His mother had often accused him of being a poster child for the staid New Englander who didn’t have much to say but meant every word that came out of his mouth. Still, in thirty years of living he’d never found himself tongue-tied around a woman. Until now.
Holly Andrews was more than easy on the eyes. A few blond strands had escaped her ponytail, framing her brilliant blue eyes in a halo of curls. When she’d pegged him as former military, he’d braced himself for the awkward moment when he’d have to explain where he’d served and why he was back.
To his great relief, she didn’t ask. Probably because she was familiar with veterans and could sense that he didn’t want to talk about his experience. The interesting thing was, she didn’t treat him like someone who needed to be handled with kid gloves the way so many folks did. Instead, she’d given him sympathy and understanding. For someone who’d dealt with every conceivable reaction during the past year, Sam found her matter-of-fact approach to him a refreshing change.
Realizing that her drink was nearly gone, he asked, “Would you like a refill on that?”
“That’d be great. It was a long trip, and we still have to drive to Auntie D’s and unpack.”
“Auntie D?” he echoed in disbelief as he poured coffee into her mug and added some hot water to make it more to her taste. “That’s what you call Daphne Mills, the greatest actress of her generation?”
“Oh, that’s just a bunch of hype invented by her agent.” Holly waved it off with a laugh. “She’d be the first to tell you there were actresses better than her. Not many, of course, but a few,” she added with a fond smile.
“I guess she’d know.” Then he remembered what had brought Holly into the bakery in the first place. “I think that envelope you were asking about is back here somewhere. Gimme a sec.”
“Don’t rush. If we’re not in the way, I’d rather hang out here until it quits raining, anyway.”
“According to the weatherman, this storm’s not moving off till tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, well.” Glancing at her son, she shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Them’s the breaks, right, bud?”
“We won’t melt,” he assured her brightly.
She rewarded his optimism with a proud mother’s smile and slit open the envelope Sam had given her. A pile of cash spilled onto the counter, followed by a house key.
She let out a sound that was half moan and half laugh. “Oh, Auntie, what’re you thinking?”
“Whoa,” Chase commented. “That’s a lotta money.”
“It certainly is,” Holly replied, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself.
Sam was trying hard not to snoop, but it was impossible to miss the large, scrawling message on the pale pink stationery.
Get whatever you want, Peaches.
Reaching back inside, Holly pulled another piece of paper from the envelope. She opened the note and studied it with a frown. When she started spinning the page, he felt compelled to ask, “Something wrong?”
“I’m assuming this is meant to be a map.”
When she turned it for him to see, he realized that even a local like him would have trouble following the vague drawing anywhere. “City folks like your aunt aren’t much for giving directions. They like their GPS.”
“It’s very helpful,” Holly informed him primly. “I managed to get all the way here from Boston using it.”
“To the town, sure, but you won’t find Daphne’s place that way. That road’s not even on a state map.”
He seldom engaged anyone so directly, especially not someone he’d just met. Why had he chosen this afternoon—and this particular woman—to change his approach? No explanation immediately came to mind, but he couldn’t help feeling that something important had just happened to him. Something bigger than an out-of-towner needing directions.
It gave him a sliver of hope that he might be able to regain his emotional footing, after all. Since his return, he’d felt like a stranger in the hometown that had always been a haven from the world. No matter what he’d tried, that impression had stubbornly remained, leaving him convinced that as much as he loved the town that his family had built from nothing, it might not be the best place for him anymore.
What would it be like to start over? he’d wondered more than once. To go someplace where no one knew him and wouldn’t ask about things he’d prefer never to talk about again? Sometimes, after a particularly difficult day, moving away was the only choice that made any sense to him.
When it dawned on him that Holly was speaking to him, he yanked his wandering mind back to their conversation.
“She told us that’s one of the things she likes most about Liberty Creek,” Holly went on. “After dodging Hollywood paparazzi for so long, she’s thrilled about having her privacy back and being treated like a regular person.”
Sam chuckled. “No offense, but there’s nothing regular about her. She’s one of a kind.”
When Holly tilted her head and gazed up at him, he wondered if he’d stepped over some unseen line of etiquette. He’d just met her, after all, and she could easily misinterpret what he’d intended to be a compliment. He’d never had much luck reading women, so he waited anxiously for her to say something.
“I think so, too,” she finally agreed, adding a cute grin. “Just don’t tell her I said so. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
It didn’t occur to him that he’d been holding his breath until it came out in a rush. Hoping to mask his bizarre reaction to her, he held out his hand. “Deal.”
As they shook, Holly’s hand felt small and vulnerable in his, but her grip was firm. Trusting was the word that leapt into his mind, and he sternly pushed it aside. Nice as she seemed, there was no way he’d drag a woman into his wreck of a life, especially one with such a young child. Even though every word she said in that lilting Southern accent of hers made him want to smile.
He’d just made that decision when she said, “I hate to impose, but is there any way you could help me get out there? She’s coming home from the hospital on Friday, and I have a lot to do before then, so I’d like to get started first thing in the morning. Even a new map would be better than this,” she added, waving the useless drawing before tossing it on the counter.
“Sure.” Sam reached for an order pad and pen, then stopped. His parents had drummed hospitality into their children’s heads since they were old enough to grasp the concept. It certainly didn’t include sketching roads on a piece of paper for a visitor who’d probably get lost once she left Main Street. “Actually, I’m doing the rehab work out at her place, and the new fixtures for the kitchen and bathroom came in today. I was planning to take them out there later, but if you give me a minute, we can go now. That way, you can follow me and learn the way.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.” Reaching out, she rested a hand on her son’s shoulder in a motherly gesture. “I’m sure we can find it, and I hate to interrupt what you’re doing.”
“You’ve had a long day already,” Sam argued, unsure of why he was fighting with her about this. Most of the time, he let people make their own choices and didn’t worry too much about the outcome. For some reason, this was different, and he tried again. “It’s still raining, and you’ve probably got a few suitcases. If I give you a hand, the unloading will go faster.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Letting out a tired sigh, she smiled at Chase. “Right now, I’d give anything for a warm bath and some dry clothes.”
“Me, too,” the boy chimed in eagerly.
That was the closest he’d come to complaining, and Sam had to admit that he was impressed with the kid’s upbeat attitude. Probably got it from his mother, Sam mused before shoving the thought away. “Okay, then it’s settled. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
She gave him a grateful smile before focusing on the rest of Daphne’s letter. It was a good thing, too, because the exchange of those few simple words had unleashed a torrent of emotions in Sam. As vivid as the day they’d first appeared, they made his chest twist with a pain so strong, he wondered for the countless time if he’d be dragging it around with him like some invisible anchor until the undertaker finally put him in the ground.
Running his hand over the dog tags he wore beneath his shirt, he closed his eyes and waited for the worst of it to pass. As usual, the intensity eased, but the remorse he still felt left a bitter taste in his mouth. Someday, he might be able to hear someone say, “I’ll be here,” and not flash back to the darkest, most horrific day of his life.
But not today.
Chapter Two (#u5cc924aa-cd0f-5887-a101-e9ba2f9fb7e7)
Holly was fairly certain that if Sam had left her to her own devices, she’d have driven right past the road that led to the long, winding driveway of her aunt’s new home. One unmarked side street led to another and another, which fed into an isolated dead end that held exactly three houses. She got the feeling that her guide was finding his way through the outskirts of Liberty Creek using an inherited sense of where things in his hometown had been standing since the founders had first hacked it out of the forest.
She’d never been much for school, but being a history buff, that class had always held a special appeal for her. She recalled that New Hampshire was one of the original thirteen colonies and had played a pivotal role in the Americans’ fight for independence. If those long-ago Calhoun brothers were any indication of the local residents’ spirit, she had no trouble believing that men like them—strong and stubborn—had played a key role in the patriots’ eventual victory.
Sam’s pickup finally signaled a turn onto a rutted lane that looked more like a deer path than a driveway. When she got her first look at the house, she groaned out loud. “Oh, Auntie. Have you lost your mind?”
Chase leaned in to get a clearer view between the front headrests. “Didn’t Sam say he was fixing the house?”
“Yes.”
“It looks like he should tear it down instead.”
She couldn’t have summed up the property’s condition any better, but she was wary of agreeing for fear that he’d repeat her comments and hurt their sensitive relative’s feelings. The sprawling farmhouse must have stood on many more acres years ago, and the trees growing around it were the same vintage as the ones she’d admired in the town square. The porch that stretched across the front of the house wasn’t quite done, and the front steps were nowhere to be seen. Entire sections of boards had been replaced, but most of the antiquated windows remained. The end wall was painted a mellow cream, and a pair of wine-colored shutters leaning against it gave her a glimpse of Sam’s plans for the exterior. She could envision it looking classic and stunning when it was finished, but for now, the kindest description she could invent was “work in progress.”
Sam parked near the front porch and climbed out of his truck. Avoiding the puddles, he strolled toward Holly’s car while she sat there trying to come up with something encouraging to say about the dilapidated farmhouse her aunt had bought on a whim for her retirement home.
When she stepped out, she blurted out the only positive remark she could think of. “It’s in a real pretty spot.”
Cocking an eyebrow in obvious amusement, he said, “I know the house isn’t much to look at now, but it’s actually better than it was when I started in the spring.”
“Was it falling down the hill?”
“Not a chance. This place was built of solid oak, and it’ll outlast all of us. It was empty for a while, but with a little work, it’ll be amazing.”
She stared up at him waiting for the punch line, but judging by his earnest expression, he wasn’t yanking her chain. He sounded confident, not in the cocky way some guys could, but in the solid, dependable way a girl would be able to count on.
So, since she wasn’t exactly Miss DIY, Holly decided that she didn’t have a choice other than to trust his assessment. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
The clouds in his eyes lightened, and the corner of his mouth crinkled in a half-hearted motion that made her wonder what it would take to coax an actual smile from him. Not that it was up to her, of course. She was just curious.
“So,” he went on, “I’m guessing you’ve got a trunk full of suitcases.”
“We have a few things,” she retorted, irritated by the thinly veiled display of chauvinism. She’d gotten enough of that from other men to last her for the rest of her life. Overwhelmed by Brady’s deteriorating condition, she’d made the mistake of allowing other people to do things for her that she could have handled herself. It had led them to view her as helpless and, after a while, she’d been alarmed to find she’d started agreeing with them. One of the many things she was determined to change as she took charge of her life again. “It was nice of you to offer your help, but we’ll be fine. Chase can manage the smaller bags and I can get the big ones.”
“No, you can’t.”
Sam’s condescending tone got her back up, and she glared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Easy now,” he soothed with a hand in the air. “I just meant a lady shouldn’t be carrying her own luggage when there’s a guy around who’s willing to do it for her.”
She refused to take that bait and stood with her arms crossed, scowling up at him for all she was worth. After a few seconds of that, he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his well-worn jeans and sighed. “How ’bout we do it together? Those clouds aren’t going anywhere, and I’d hate to see all your stuff get drenched.”
Holly glanced into the distance to see that he was right about the rain and decided there was absolutely no point in being obstinate. This time, anyway. “Okay, that makes sense.”
Reaching back into the car, she popped the trunk as he muttered something under his breath. It wasn’t flattering, but he was taking time out of his day to help her so she opted to let it go. He reminded her of a displeased grizzly bear most of the time, and she wasn’t keen on pushing him too far and alienating him altogether. As the contractor on this large job, he’d be around a lot, and she figured it would go better if they could at least be civil to one another.
Eyeing their pile of luggage, he shook his head but didn’t comment on her heavy traveling style. Instead, he plucked out two enormous cases crammed to the gills and carried them to the finished half of the porch without complaint. Whoa, she thought with honest admiration as she picked up two of the smaller bags. He was even stronger than he looked.
They quickly emptied the trunk and then paused while Holly fished out the key Aunt Daphne had left at the bakery for her. As she turned the knob, Sam stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Did Daphne warn you about Pandora?”
That sounded ominous, and Holly couldn’t help giggling. “You mean, as in ‘Don’t open that box’?”
She delivered the last few words in a horror movie narrator voice, and to her utter surprise, he laughed. She’d barely been able to get a smirk out of him until now, so the bright sound astonished her. Quite honestly, she wasn’t sure he had that kind of humor in him, and it was nice to discover that he did.
“No, I mean, the big black cat named Pandora. I never got the connection till now, but she can be a troublemaker, so her name definitely fits.” Looking down at Chase, he went on, “She’s the queen around here, and you’ll do well to remember that.”
Holly wasn’t much of a cat person, so his advice seemed slightly over the top. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
He looked deadly serious, but she simply couldn’t picture herself kowtowing to any ball of fur smaller than her. “Fine. Can we go in now?”
In answer, he swung the door open and stepped back to let her go ahead of him. Before she had a chance to set even one foot inside, a streak of black tore through the hallway and disappeared under the plastic that was stretched across the wide staircase that led to the second floor.
Feeling a little off-kilter in the middle of a strange house in a town she’d never visited, Holly forgot Sam was even there until he cleared his throat.
“Hmm?” she asked.
“I could use a hand with the door.”
Idiot, Holly scolded herself, reaching past him to push open what was obviously a freshly repaired screen door. “Sorry. The cat spooked me, and I spaced out there for a second. I guess these should go upstairs.”
“The two guest rooms are in the front of the house. They have the nicest views, so Daphne had me finish those first.”
“Cool!” Chase approved, ducking under the barrier in much the same way Pandora had. As he pounded up the raw wooden steps, Holly took a moment to get a better sense of the place that Sam had such high hopes for.
The entry must have been a grand foyer back in the day, but the cosmetic issues outside were nothing compared to the demolition that had gutted the interior. From walls to ceilings, everything had been stripped back to the studs and was in the process of being rebuilt. The wide oak planks on the floor had been sanded down to their natural state, and there were patches of various stains around the living room, as if someone was testing them for color.
“I know it’s a mess right now,” he said, giving voice to her less-than-optimistic thought, “but I’ll have it done in time.”
“In time for what?”
Glancing upstairs, he went on in a muted voice. “Don’t tell anyone else ’cause it’s supposed to be a surprise, but Daphne wants to fly your whole family up here in November to celebrate Thanksgiving with her. That was before we knew how bad the termites had gotten to the timbers over the years, but she’s still set on making it happen. It’s my job to make sure you all have a nice place to stay while you’re here.”
“That sounds like something she’d do,” Holly commented fondly. “During her acting career, she lived in big houses and adored having company. I guess now she’ll just invite everyone here instead.”
“I’d imagine so. Could you pull that plastic back for me?”
Holly peeled away one side of it for Sam to go through and followed him up. At the top of the stairs, he turned down a short hallway and stopped between two massive doors that looked like they were made of mahogany. One was open, and she saw Chase inside, testing the bounciness of the mattress on his bed. She nearly scolded him, then thought better of it. He’d been so great all day, a little trampoline time seemed like a good reward. At least he’d taken his shoes off before climbing on it, she noted proudly.
Leaving him to his fun, she opened the other bedroom door for Sam, and what she saw inside made her smile. Daphne had always kept a special guest room for Holly to use during visits to Beverly Hills, and she’d duplicated it in her new house. The walls were painted a cloudy blue, and white trim around the windows framed lush green scenery that promised to be beautiful when the sun finally came out. From the four-poster bed to the chair in front of the small desk, it was all here, and Holly immediately felt like she belonged.
Strolling in behind her, Sam set her bags inside the walk-in closet. “From the way you’re smiling, I take it I got everything right.”
“Perfect. It feels like home.”
“That’s what she was after, so I’m glad you approve. Have a look around while I get the rest of your stuff.”
While he was gone, she went to the other window to see if her room looked out on more than the quiet landscape. She pulled aside a lacy curtain and discovered that she had a distant peekaboo view of the historic bridge. Now that she was finally here, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the centuries-old structure had guided her toward a better place than the one she’d recently left. Wondering what lay ahead for Chase and her, she stared out at it until she heard Sam’s boots coming up the stairs again.
The time for daydreaming was over. Aunt Daphne was coming home soon, and Holly had a lot of work to do before then.
* * *
Turning away from the foggy view, Holly asked, “So, is there a tour?”
“Sure.”
Since he didn’t know what else to say, Sam motioned her out the door. Fortunately for him, she was the bubbly, curious type, which meant he didn’t have to do much more than answer her questions. While he took her through the house, she pressed him for all sorts of details about the rehab that was under way. The roof, the porches, the architectural touches—she was interested in it all, and Sam was only too happy to keep her talking. That accent of hers was downright hypnotizing.
In the kitchen, she turned to him with amazement lighting those incredible eyes. “I can’t believe you’re doing this all by yourself.”
“Actually, a couple friends come and help out when I need extra hands.” Sensing that it was time to come clean, he paused to clear his throat. “I think you should know Daphne hurt her back when she tripped on something that got left on the main stairway. It was an accident, but I feel awful about it. We all do.”
That it had been a part-timer who’d carelessly left his toolbox where it didn’t belong didn’t matter to Sam. That he’d fired the guy on the spot was beside the point. Sam was in charge of this project, and to him that meant he was responsible for Daphne’s injury. He wasn’t crazy about having to apologize for other people’s mistakes, but he wouldn’t shirk the blame, either. Someday it might not be necessary for him to work within such a tight budget, and he’d be able to hire a skilled full-time crew. But right now he didn’t have a choice. Running a small business was tough in the best of times, and with the local economy still reeling from all kinds of setbacks, he couldn’t afford to pay the rates professional subcontractors charged.
He held his breath, waiting to see how she’d react to the news, but Holly gave him a reassuring look. “She told me all about it. She doesn’t blame you even the tiniest bit, and neither do I. Things like that happen, and she’s going to be fine.”
“Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it.” Now that he’d fessed up, Sam felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he relaxed enough to be friendlier. “Come on, and I’ll show you the room we set up for Daphne to use while she’s on the mend. It has a full bath next to it, so I think it’ll work well for her. I just finished painting the trim yesterday, so it might still be tacky in spots.”
The large back parlor had a wide bank of windows, and he’d already moved Daphne’s bedroom furniture down from the master bedroom. A huge TV was mounted over the fireplace, in clear view of the bed set up on the opposite wall. Trailing a hand over the hand-carved rosewood mantel, Holly peered out the windows that overlooked the backyard. “Wow, it’s even worse than the front. I think I saw Tarzan up in one of those trees.”
“That’s why she got such a good deal on this place. Well, that and the termites.”
Holly typed something on her phone and backtracked into the kitchen. Sam watched her throw open one cupboard after another, then both sides of the shiny new French door–style fridge. When she glanced up, she asked, “Why are there two bowls up there?”
“Pandora likes to eat there. That way, she can keep an eye on everything.”
“Seriously?” He nodded, and she laughed. “This is one spoiled cat, but I guess I better go along with it, since that’s what she’s used to.”
When she finally reached the last cupboard, the amused look on her face told him that she’d found what she was hunting for on a bare shelf. Taking out another of Daphne’s personalized envelopes, she read the note out loud. “Get whatever you think we should have, Peaches.”
Holly opened it, and inside were more hundred-dollar bills than Sam had ever seen in one place. “She left you money already.”
“That was for Chase and me, in case we need something. This—” she held up an impressive fan of Benjamins “—is for food. Totally different.”
“Okay,” he replied, still unable to believe how much cash Daphne kept on hand. “While I’m thinking of it, you gotta tell me why she calls you Peaches.”
Holly laughed. “It’s an old nickname. When I was little, I wouldn’t eat anything other than peaches. If Mom wanted me to try something new, she had to mix some of them in or I wouldn’t touch it. Dad started calling me Peaches, and it stuck.”
Looking at the nearly empty shelves, he said, “Looks like you’ve got some shopping to do. Daphne mostly eats out, either on her own or with friends. She told me she can hardly work the microwave, but I figured she was kidding.”
“No, she was totally serious. She’s a people person, and machines confound her. But we can’t take her to a restaurant for every meal in her condition, so when we spoke on the phone last week, I warned her that we’d need some groceries.”
“I can help with that, if you want,” he blurted without thinking. Despite his earlier wariness, something about this spunky single mom made him want to step up and give her a hand. It wasn’t a date or anything, he assured himself, and he could catch up on his lengthy to-do list tomorrow. The work wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll put away those supplies I brought and meet you out at my truck.”
She didn’t say anything to that, and he wondered what he might have said wrong. Then it hit him that she might not be inclined to get into a stranger’s car with her son, and he amended his offer. “You can follow me out there if you’d rather do it that way.”
Gazing up at him, she studied him for several long, uncomfortable moments. Then, to his great relief, she smiled. “Auntie D trusts you. That’s good enough for me.”
Sam felt as if he’d just scored a touchdown, but the swift connection he’d made with this engaging woman was unsettling, so he kept it to himself. After shuttling in the new kitchen faucet and fixtures for Daphne’s bathroom, he went back to his truck. Reaching behind the seat, he grabbed a clean shirt to replace the grimy one he was wearing. The bottle of water he found underneath it wasn’t cold, but it felt good going down, and he finished it off while he waited.
A few minutes later, Holly and Chase joined him, and he opened the passenger door for them. The boy eagerly jumped in, but Holly hung back, rewarding Sam with another of her heartwarming smiles before climbing inside. He’d counted four different versions of that expression, and he wondered how many more she had tucked away, ready to be pulled out for the right occasion. He’d just met her, and she was already drawing him in like some kind of feminine magnet.
He really needed to get a grip, he thought as he settled into the driver’s seat. Out of necessity, he’d pulled into himself after leaving the service, unwilling to subject anyone to the turmoil of emotions that seemed to have taken up permanent residence inside him. His little sister had accused him of becoming a hermit, and while he believed her assessment was on the melodramatic side, he couldn’t deny that it wasn’t too far off the truth.
One day, he’d be almost like his old self: confident, capable and ready to take on whatever life threw at him. And the next, he’d take an enormous step back into the mire that had dominated his perception of the world since his injuries had sent him home. The physical wounds had long since healed, but inside the scars sometimes felt as fresh as if they’d happened yesterday. He’d give anything to go back and relive that day, find some way to make it end differently.
But he couldn’t. He regretted that more than he’d ever be able to convey, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Squaring his shoulders with determination, Sam put aside the past and focused on the misty view outside the windshield. Unfortunately, in the enclosed cab, he caught a whiff of Holly’s perfume. With a mental groan, he identified the flowery scent: roses. He’d always had a fondness for roses.
“There’s a small market in town,” he explained as he headed for the highway. “But considering the fact that Daphne’s cupboards are pretty much empty, I’m thinking you need something more than a few cans of soup and a loaf of bread. Waterford has a big new grocery store that should do the trick.”
“Oh, it’s not far, is it? It’s getting late, and I hate to take up the rest of your day.”
“Not a problem.”
A blossoming smile made its way across her face, reminding him of the way the sun came up over the nearby hills every morning. The poetic comparison was so unlike him, he was beginning to wonder if he was coming down with something.
“You’re a nice guy, Sam.”
Her sweet, no-frills compliment trickled into a part of him that had been cold and dead for so long, he’d begun to think it would stay that way. His brain was clanging a warning, but the rest of him apparently wasn’t listening because he found himself smiling back at her. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
She didn’t say anything more, but the lingering gaze she gave him before looking out the passenger window made his heart roll over in his chest. Normally cautious when it came to relationships, he wasn’t one to go all mushy over a woman the first time he met her.
But this one had gotten to him on some level that he didn’t quite understand. One thing he knew for sure, though: he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Chapter Three (#u5cc924aa-cd0f-5887-a101-e9ba2f9fb7e7)
The next morning, Sam was clearing equipment from the bed of his work truck when he heard the kitchen screen door of Daphne’s house quietly creak open. He knew the sound of someone sneaking out, and he peered over the unruly boxwood hedge that separated his yard from hers. “Morning.”
Chase’s head snapped around, a guilty look on his face. “Hi.”
There was something about this kid that really appealed to him, so Sam decided to play it cool. “Headed to work?”
The boy grinned and shook his head. “Just checking things out. Mom said it was too muddy yesterday.”
“Sounds like a mom.” Sam wasn’t used to dealing with children, and he hunted for something else to say. “Wanna give me a hand?”
“I can’t leave Auntie D’s yard.”
It was a good rule, and Sam didn’t want him getting into trouble. Then inspiration hit, and he asked, “Have you got a baseball glove?”
“In the car. Why?”
“I’m ready for a break. We could play catch over the hedge if you want.”
“Cool! I’ll be right back.”
Skirting around the side porch, he scrambled up the driveway to where Holly’s car was parked. Sam expected to hear the slamming of a car door, but Chase made barely a sound opening and closing it before running back. Smart kid, Sam thought with a grin as he went into the garage to find his own glove and a baseball. They were under a pile of junk on his work bench, covered in dust. And one of the strings on his glove was considerably shorter than the others, with telltale gnaw marks that alerted him he had a mouse.
More like mice, he amended with a grimace. In his experience, the little pests always came with friends and were hard to get rid of. Just as he felt his chipper mood starting its usual nosedive, something incredible happened.
It stopped. As if someone had reached out to catch a ball on its way to the ground, his demeanor reversed course all on its own and began lifting again. Sam had never experienced anything even remotely like this, and he had no idea what to make of it. Since Chase was anxiously bouncing from one sneaker to the other on his side of the hedge, Sam put aside his bewilderment, banged the dirt and sawdust from his glove and tossed his throwing partner an easy pop fly.
After a few of those back and forth, Chase finally complained. “Come on, Sam. I’m not a baby.”
He laughed and put some more muscle into the next one. “Better?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“No problem. Y’know, you’re pretty good at this. Who taught you to throw?”
“Mom did. She’s got a good arm for a girl.”
“Does she like baseball, too?” Sam didn’t know what made him ask that, but now that he had, it dawned on him that his curiosity about his new neighbor hadn’t gone away overnight the way he’d expected it to.
“Kinda,” the boy replied as if it baffled him. “She grew up rooting for Atlanta, but she met my dad at a Boston doubleheader, so now she likes the Red Sox.”
It was the first Sam had heard either of them talk about the boy’s father, and it made him wonder about the details of his death. He’d lost his own grandfather not long ago and still missed him every day. He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for a child to cope with losing a parent so young.
Maybe this was a chance for him to help someone else whose life had been upended by tragedy, he thought. At least, he could try. “So, do you remember much about your father?”
“Some,” Chase answered, spinning the ball in his hand before tossing it back. “He looked fine, but he was sick, and that made Mom sad. He didn’t ever want to go outside or play games with me. She said it wasn’t my fault, so I figured it was because he didn’t want to be my dad anymore.”
Laced with sorrow, those raw, honest words drove straight into Sam’s heart. He’d assumed the Marine had died in combat, but now it sounded as if he’d made it home only to pass away later. Sam didn’t know which was more devastating, but he suspected that to Holly and Chase, there wasn’t much of a difference. Brady was gone, and they had to live without him. It didn’t get much tougher than that.
It wasn’t Sam’s nature to delve into someone else’s pain, especially since he had more than enough of his own to bear. But this brave kid and his grieving mother had broken through his stalwart front and gotten to him in a way other people didn’t. Foreign as it was to him, he acknowledged that their heart-wrenching history made him want to do something to help them.
“I can’t imagine that,” he said. “You’re a great kid, and I’m sure he was proud to be your dad. Sometimes when folks get sick it changes the way they act, even with the people they love most.”
Unfortunately, Sam knew that from agonizing personal experience. His own family had taken turns supporting, coddling and spoiling him until their eggshell walking had all but driven him nuts. All but Brian, he reminded himself with a wry grin. His pain-in-the-neck younger brother had remained his usual difficult self through it all, scoffing when Sam pitied himself, knocking him back into reality when he needed it. Sometimes literally.
“Grown-ups are weird,” Chase muttered, smacking the ball into his own glove with a scowl.
“Got that right,” Sam agreed wholeheartedly, wishing he had some other form of wisdom to offer. But since he didn’t, he opted to change the subject to something less depressing. “So, did you play on a team when you were in Boston?”
The boy’s expression brightened like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “T-ball, and then baseball.”
“Nice. What position did you play?”
“I usually got stuck in the outfield ’cause I was the youngest.”
His disgusted tone made it clear what he thought of that, and Sam chuckled. “What would you rather play?”
“Catcher. They’re in the action all the time. The outfield’s boring.”
Sam couldn’t agree more. Being in on every play was why he’d enjoyed the position so much when he was growing up. Chase’s comments took him back to his own Little League days, and he chuckled. “Unless you get some gorilla up there who can hit the ball a mile. Then it’s over your head and he’s trotting around the bases like a big shot.”
“Yeah, I hate that. If I ever hit a home run, I’ll be cool about it.”
“Whattya mean ‘if’?” Sam demanded in mock horror. “Don’t you mean ‘when I hit a home run’?”
“It’s pretty hard to do.”
“Nothing worth doing comes easy.” To Sam’s astonishment, one of his dad’s trademark sayings came tumbling out of his mouth. Even more surprising, it struck him as a very fatherly thing to say, and to his knowledge, he didn’t have a paternal bone in his body. He liked kids well enough, but having his own was a faint dream, possibly in the distant future.
But somehow, he’d connected with this friendly boy in a way he’d never done with the rug rats in his own extended family. He wasn’t at all sure that was good for either him or Chase, but now didn’t seem like the time to examine it too closely.
Chase had been dropped into a new town, surrounded by strangers. For some reason, he seemed to enjoy spending time with Sam, and there was no point denying that the feeling was mutual. Out of respect for a fellow soldier who’d died too young, Sam decided that the least he could do was be around when his young neighbor needed someone to listen.
Or simply throw the ball back.
* * *
Holly was digging through a suitcase searching for some dry sneakers when she heard an odd sound out in the overgrown backyard.
Thwack, pause. Thwack, pause. The rhythm was steady, and she couldn’t figure out what might be causing it. Then the sound of a deep voice, followed by Chase’s unmistakable shout, “Awesome!”
Opening her bedroom door farther, she confirmed that he wasn’t in his room but had somehow gone downstairs without her noticing. It wasn’t smart for him to be wandering around on his own, and she made a note to remind him of the simple rules she’d established for him in Boston. Granted, Liberty Creek was a far cry from the city neighborhood they’d lived in before, but in her mind you couldn’t be too careful when it came to your kid’s safety.
Hurrying down the unfinished wooden stairs, she stopped dead in her tracks when she got a glimpse of what was happening outside the kitchen’s bay window. Chase stood on one side of the ragged hedge, tossing a ball to someone on the other side. Technically, he’d stayed in the yard and was still managing to have some fun, and now that she knew he was okay, she admired his creativity with a grin.
Unfortunately, her humor was short-lived when she peered through another window and saw that his throwing partner was Sam Calhoun. Until now, she’d had no idea that he was one of Daphne’s two neighbors, and she berated herself for not asking him where he lived.
Then again, she amended as she made her way to the porch, what were the chances that the former Ranger lived next door? She wasn’t concerned about Sam harming Chase—he struck her as too compassionate for that—but she was very worried that her son might grow too fond of their troubled neighbor and suffer greatly for it later on.
So, when she reached the screen door, she summoned her most casual mom tone before saying, “Morning, boys. I didn’t realize workouts started so early around here.”
“Hey, Mom!” Chase greeted her, waving before lobbing the ball to Sam. “We’re getting warmed up for the game tonight. Boston’s playing the Yankees at Fenway, and we wanna be ready in case the Red Sox need us.”
“His idea,” Sam explained with a sheepish grin that was oddly endearing on such a large man. “I’m sure they’d be happy to get Chase in the lineup, but I don’t imagine they’ll need me unless someone breaks a leg going down the dugout steps.”
In spite of her earlier concern, Holly couldn’t keep back a laugh. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, then. Are you two hungry?”
Typical boy, Chase whooped a reply, spinning his glove in the air before catching it and racing inside. She stepped back to avoid being run over and waited while Sam took a little slower route. His long strides crossed the yard quickly, and he set his battered glove on the top porch step before coming into the kitchen.
“You really don’t have to feed me,” he said. “I’ve got food at my place.”
Just a few yards away, she noted silently, still a bit stunned by the way she’d uncovered that detail. But that wasn’t his fault, and she decided to let it go. “You never charged us for those great cookies yesterday, so the least I can do is return the favor. How do you like your eggs?”
“However you’re makin’ ’em. When someone else is doing the cooking, I’m not picky.”
“Scrambled it is.” Considering his size, she added, “And some of that fresh local sausage I got yesterday, too. Anything else?”
“No, thank you,” he replied in a cautiously polite tone. “That’s more than enough.”
She tried not to take the stiff response personally, but it wasn’t easy. She was going out of her way to put her own misgivings aside and be friendly to him, but he seemed determined to shrink away from her efforts. It was probably for the best, she mused. From what she’d been able to discern, Sam needed a lot more than she could give him, anyway. “Okay, then. Grab some coffee and have a seat while I get everything ready.”
He did as she asked, and she focused on putting their meal together. She could sense him watching her, and a quick peek showed her that he was following her movements with a thoughtful expression. Not creepy, she realized, but curious. She couldn’t imagine what he found so fascinating about her cracking open eggs and flipping sausages, then decided that what he might be thinking was absolutely none of her business.
An old door sat across a cobbled-together base that wasn’t much in the beauty department but was clearly standing in for an island to be built later. Leaning across the top, she called in to the den, “Chase, breakfast!”
“Coming!” He trotted in and fixed her with a hopeful look. “That new wild animal show is on. Can I eat in the den if I’m real careful?”
Her boy, Holly thought fondly. He loved anything with fur or feathers, and the wilder the better. “Okay, we’ll give it a try. But keep your food on the coffee table and sit right in front of it. If you spill it, you clean it up. Understand?”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she grumbled with a mock scowl. “Save the flattery for when you’re in trouble.”
He laughed and turned to Sam. “Wanna come watch TV with me?”
Something flickered in the contractor’s eyes, lighting them briefly before fading away. Holly got the impression that a part of him was trying desperately to claw its way to the surface but kept getting shot down by reality. Holly knew how discouraging it could be when the past kept smothering all your efforts to move forward, and she felt a pang of sorrow for him.
“Maybe next time,” he replied.
“Tomorrow?”
Holly held her breath, praying that Sam wouldn’t make a commitment and then not show up. Or forget. Or think it wasn’t important. Or myriad other things that Brady had repeatedly done when Chase had attempted to reach out to him. Eventually, Chase had tired of being rejected and stopped asking his father to do things. Before long, Brady had become a stranger in his own home.
“I’d hate to say yes and then not be able to do it,” Sam said quietly, as if he’d somehow picked up on Holly’s unspoken fear. “Soon as I can, I’ll watch that show with you. Is that okay?”
Chase nodded eagerly. “I get it. Mom says you should always keep your promises.”
Apparently satisfied, he left the two adults in the kitchen, an awkward silence hanging in the air between them. Sam gave her a long, pensive look, as if he was trying to decide what to say next.
Finally, he told her, “That’s good advice.”
“I have my moments,” she answered as lightly as she could, turning away to rotate the sausages before they burned.
“Good ones?”
“Mostly.” At least now they were, she added silently. Getting to that point had taken every ounce of her strength, but she’d done it for Chase because she was all he had. Setting their plates on the table, she took the seat next to Sam and debated telling him the rest of her story. Because she believed that it was important for him to understand where she was coming from, she took a deep breath and started, “Sam, I don’t normally do this, but since we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other around here, I need for you to know something. About Brady.”
Misery clouded Sam’s eyes, and he grimaced so deeply, she almost felt it herself. Holly got the feeling that he wasn’t only sad for her, but for himself. Whatever had scarred him had left a mark so deep, it showed as clearly in his features as if it had been chiseled there yesterday. “Chase told me about him while we were playing catch. I’m so sorry he didn’t recover.”
“Oh, he recovered,” she corrected him with a frown. “Most of him, anyway. He kept on hunting for the rest, and when Chase was old enough to do things with, I thought being a dad might help him find what he’d lost. Sadly, it didn’t, and two years ago, he finally gave up.”
“That’s awful. No family should have to go through that.”
Sam’s solemn response told her that he understood better than anyone what she and Chase had endured. In her experience, confiding in someone made them want to do the same, and she sipped her coffee, waiting for him to give her some idea of what had happened to him.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stood and pushed his chair back into place. “The ramp for Daphne’s wheelchair came in this morning, so I’ll be installing it first thing. It’s gonna be pretty loud, but I’ll get it done quick as I can.”
“That’s fine, but could you wait a few minutes? I really should check in with my parents. They were out last night, so I left them a message that we got here in one piece. They’d probably like more of an update, though, and I promised them some pics of the house.”
“Sure.”
Back to the single syllables, she noticed as he strode out the side door and headed down the steps that led to the driveway. Holly wasn’t certain what kind of response she’d expected from the reserved contractor, but she couldn’t help feeling that she’d fallen a huge step back where he was concerned. She’d taken a leap of faith to be honest with him, she reminded herself, and now she’d have to live with the consequences.
Whatever they might be.
Her laptop was charging on the counter, so she unplugged it and took it into the den, where Chase’s show was nearly over. He swallowed the last of his orange juice while she dialed her parents in Savannah, and by the time their images appeared on the screen, he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Morning, Gramma and Grampa,” he said, adding a little wave. “How’re you?”
“Just fine, honey bear,” Mom replied, beaming at him. “What have you been up to so far today?”
“Having breakfast and playing catch with Sam.”
“Sam?” her father echoed warily. “Who’s he?”
“Auntie D’s neighbor,” Chase answered brightly. “He likes the Red Sox, too, and he’s awesome. We’re gonna watch the game together tonight.”
They wouldn’t like knowing there’d be a stranger in the house, Holly knew, but she plastered on a smile and pretended she was fine with the arrangement. Don Fredericks was a cop, and her mother, Gloria, worked with at-risk teens, so they were trained to spot trouble and she didn’t want to worry them.
Unfortunately, Holly’s acting skills left a lot to be desired.
“I didn’t realize there was a single man so close by,” Dad commented in a casual tone that did nothing to mask his apprehension. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Oh, Don.” Mom clicked her tongue at him. “Daphne hired him to work on her house, so she thinks he’s trustworthy. You know how great she is at reading people. Besides that, Holly meets new folks all the time, and she handles them just fine. Don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Sam’s been a total gentleman,” she assured them.
“Well, you tell him that better not change or he’ll have your father to deal with.”
“I’ll do that,” Holly promised, forcing a laugh. “He’ll be too busy to cause any problems, though. This place is like something off one of those real estate disaster shows.”
“D has always liked old things,” Mom said in a tone laced with fondness for her older sister. “Now that she’s retired, it’s good for her to have a project that will keep her occupied.”
“It’ll do that, all right. I should let you two go for now. Once Auntie’s home from the hospital, we’ll call and have a nice family video chat.”
“That would be wonderful,” Mom said approvingly.
In unison, they said, “Love ya—bye.”
After they hung up, Holly stared at the icons on her screen until they faded into a slideshow of Savannah’s most beautiful spots. Sometimes her hometown seemed like it was on the other side of the world even though it was only a few hours away by plane. Those were the times when she seriously considered moving back to the only place that had ever really felt like home to her.
Brady had never wanted her to follow him from station to station, so she’d remained in Boston, counting the days from one of his leaves to the next. Enjoying her small circle of friends, she’d been happy enough there, even more so after Chase came along.
Then Brady returned, and their once-vibrant existence shriveled away to nothing. For Chase’s sake, she’d done her best to adjust and remain as upbeat as possible. After trudging along that way for a couple of years, she’d finally come to the conclusion that Brady’s condition had plateaued and the chances of him improving any further dwindled by the month.
So she cared for him as well as she could while creating a life for herself and Chase that included desperately needed friends and playdates. They’d been her salvation, giving her something beyond the confining four walls of their apartment.
Tragically, they’d also given Brady the opening he needed to end his life. For months afterward, she’d blamed herself for not being there when he needed her most, to remind him that she loved him and would never give up on him, no matter how bad things got. The vows she’d spoken on their wedding day before God and their families were sacred to her, and she was as committed to them at the end as she’d been in church that warm, sunny day that had held such promise.
It felt like a lifetime ago, she thought sadly. Every night, Chase included Brady in the prayers he said before bedtime, asking God to take good care of him. Because she felt he was too young to understand, Holly hadn’t yet devised a way to tell her son the details of his father’s untimely death.
She barely understood it herself, but she recognized that someday she’d have to tell Chase the truth. She prayed that when the time came, God would help her find the words.
And that somehow, her son would find a way to accept that the father he loved had chosen to leave him behind.
* * *
Later that morning, Sam stopped outside the kitchen door to find Holly and Chase with their heads together over a coloring book. He didn’t think kids did that kind of thing anymore, and the cozy scene made him smile. “I’m headed into town for a fresh saw blade. Do you need anything while I’m there?”
Holly glanced over at her son and grinned. “I don’t suppose y’all have a barber with a pair of hedge trimmers and a good sense of humor?”
“Aw, Mom,” Chase whined. “My hair’s fine.”
“I can hardly see your eyes,” she informed him in the kind of no-nonsense tone Sam recognized from his own mother. “Besides, it’ll be getting warmer soon and shorter hair will be a lot more comfortable.”
“Okay,” the boy relented with a sigh. “Let’s go.”
They left the kitchen, and he waited on the landing with Sam while she locked the door. Then Holly took Chase’s hand and they headed down the wide steps. When Chase reached out for Sam’s hand, too, Sam was so stunned, he accepted the trusting gesture and followed along. That the boy would be openly affectionate with his mother was understandable. That he would think to include someone he’d known such a short time was surprising, to say the least. Their quick connection baffled him, but Sam decided that any problem he sensed was all in his mind.
His heart was overjoyed to know that the fatherless boy had taken to him so quickly. Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as he’d feared, after all.
“So, is this barber good with kids?” Holly asked, giving her son’s hair a fond ruffling. “This jack-in-the-box isn’t great at sitting still while people fuss over him.”
“Except when I was in the service, Hal’s given me all my haircuts since I was five.” She raised a suspicious brow, and he laughed. Since meeting the Andrewses, he’d been doing that more than he had in ages, and he had to admit it felt a lot better than brooding all the time. “I know I’m not much of an advertisement right now, but he’s really good. He’s got a grandson Chase’s age, along with seven others, so he’s great with kids and they love him.”
“That sounds reassuring,” she commented as they stopped beside her car.
To Chase, he said, “Cody, the one who’s your age, came up with the idea of keeping a video game console and snack bar in the waiting room at the shop. I don’t know who likes it more—the kids or their parents.”
“What a fabulous idea,” Holly said. “That’s one smart kid.”
“I wouldn’t mind meeting him sometime,” Chase said. “It’d be fun to have a friend to hang out with.”
Remorse dimmed Holly’s features, and she frowned. “I know you miss your old crew, bud. I wish we could’ve brought them with us.”
“It’s not your fault, Mom. I’ll just make new friends.”
After making sure she smiled, he grinned and climbed into the back seat of her car. Holly closed the door behind him and stared in at him with a pensive expression.
“That’s one amazing kid you’ve got there,” Sam commented.
Pulling her gaze away, she looked up at Sam. “He is, isn’t he? I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“I’m thinking he gets all that spunk from you.”
Tilting her head, she gave him a long, penetrating look. “You think I’m spunky?”
He wasn’t sure what was going on in that mind of hers, but he saw no harm in being up front with her. “Sure do. Considering all you’ve been through, you wouldn’t have gotten this far without it.”
“God had a lot to do with that.”
Sweet and simple, the sentiment that comforted so many people made Sam’s skin crawl, and he struggled to mask his reaction to her unexpected confession. He didn’t quite manage it, though, and she frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.”
“You look like I just sucker punched you.” He didn’t say anything, and after a few moments, understanding dawned in those expressive eyes. “You’re not religious, are you?”
“Not anymore.”
He waited for her to ask him why, but again this beautiful, perplexing woman surprised him. “So, where do I find this barbershop-slash-video-arcade?”
“If you want, you can follow me into town, and I’ll introduce you to Hal.”
“That sounds perfect. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
She flashed him the kind of smile that made him more than happy to interrupt his day and give her a hand. The midmorning traffic was lighter than usual, and they found two spots right next to a single-story brick building whose swinging sign out front said Hal’s Barbershop. In the large windows, the owner had displayed posters of various hairstyles through the generations.
After commenting on the more humorous ones, the three of them headed inside. Bells over the door announced their arrival, and the familiar sound reminded Sam of his childhood. Clean and simple, the single room was painted a bright, welcoming shade of yellow, perfectly suited to the elderly man strolling through the rear door.
“May I help you?”
“I know we didn’t call ahead,” Holly replied, “but do you have a chair available?”
“I sure do.” Offering his hand to her, he added, “I’m Hal Rogers, and I’d know Daphne’s niece anywhere. And this young man,” he said, grinning down at her son, “must be Chase. She talks nonstop about you when my wife and I play bridge with her at our place, so I feel like we’re already old friends. What can I do for you?”
“Mom says I need a haircut,” the boy answered in a disdainful tone that clearly said he didn’t see what all the fuss was about.
Hal hummed, angling his head to examine one side of the kid’s head and then the other. With a completely straight face, he asked, “Which one?”
When Chase laughed, Hal turned to Sam and said, “See? The classics always work.”
“That’s ’cause kids haven’t heard ’em yet.”
“I have, Papa, and I still like them.”
Winking at a young boy reading in the waiting area, he said, “Thanks, Cody. It’s always nice to have a fan. Have you met Chase yet?”
“No, sir.” Without prodding, he walked over and offered his hand. “I’m Cody Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/mia-ross/mending-the-widow-s-heart/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.