With All Her Heart

by Kat Brookes

  “That would be really nice,” she said with a soft giggle.

  “Not that I mind being your shoe-rescuing hero,” he clarified and then grew serious. “But I want to be so much more. I want to be the one you turn to when times are tough. The one who makes you laugh. Let me be your strength, your anchor, the other half of your heart. And let me be the father to our son I long to be.” Pulling the ring from its cushiony nest inside the tiny velvet jewelry box, he said, “This is the ring I intended to give you nine years ago.”

  “You’ve kept it all these years?” she gasped in surprise.

  “I did,” he replied with a nod. “I could never bring myself to let it go. Just as my heart refused to let you go. I thank God for bringing you back into my life. For giving us this second chance.”

  “Me, too,” she said softly.

  “I love you, Lila Gleeson. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” His gaze came to rest on the simple solitaire ring as he held it up between them. “I know the diamond’s a bit on the small side. It’s all I could afford at that age. But we can change it out.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s perfect the way it is.” Her teary gaze lifted to meet his. “God is good. Through Him, I’ve found the happiness I’ve spent my entire lifetime searching for. You have all of my heart, Mason Landers. For now and always. So, to answer your question, yes, I would love very much to marry you.”

  “For now and always,” he said as he slid the ring onto her finger. Then, cupping her face, he bent to press a tender kiss to her lips. A promise of a future filled with love.

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Love Redeemed by Lisa Jordan.

  Dear Reader,

  I’m so excited to be able to share Mason and Lila’s emotional journey to happiness with all my readers. It’s about trying to do what’s right and realizing down the road that you had other options—better options. And how those choices you made affected not only your but so many other lives. It’s about forgiveness and working to rebuild broken hearts and mend relationships. With All Her Heart also touches on the bond that started between two young girls, Lila and Addy, who first came together as foster sisters and have built a friendship that has continued into adulthood. We discover their long-kept secret and feel the guilt that secret has caused them. A truth that changes so many lives. And we also see how, through faith, those hurts can be overcome and finally allow Mason, Lila and their son, Finn, to be the family they were always meant to be.

  Kat

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  A Love Redeemed

  by Lisa Jordan

  Chapter One

  For the first time in forty-eight hours, Isabella could breathe.

  She was home safely, and everything would be okay now. Even if she didn’t know what that looked like just yet.

  All she wanted was to crawl into her childhood bed and pull the covers over her head until the humiliation of the last forty-eight hours was nothing more than a distant memory.

  Driving from upstate New York to Shelby Lake in northwestern Pennsylvania with heavy mid-October rain pelting the windshield while getting boxed in by semis as she tried to stay in her lane had turned her into a jumble of nerves.

  Stay in her lane.

  Advice she should’ve taken to avoid tanking her career.

  She should’ve known better than to take such a risk at the upscale resort where she worked as a saucier. But when their head pastry chef was hospitalized for emergency surgery, she wanted to prove to Justin Wilkes, her boss, she could handle making the wedding desserts at the last minute.

  With her own shellfish allergy, she knew how vital food safety was and took every precaution against cross-contamination. The pastry kitchen had been spotless before she started baking. So how did a bridesmaid end up in anaphylactic shock from peanut exposure?

  Maybe Justin was right—maybe she was nothing more than a greasy spoon girl.

  No, she refused to believe God would give her this dream only to take it away. But, man, losing her job sure felt like it.

  Kicking off her damp flip-flops, she changed out of her wet jeans and T-shirt into gray flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved light blue T-shirt. She pulled back the comforter and crawled into the bed that had been hers from childhood until she’d graduated culinary school and left Shelby Lake nearly ten years ago to chase her dream of running her own kitchen someday.

  After this week, though, she’d be fortunate to wrap burgers in some fast-food joint.

  But she’d worry about that tomorrow.

  Tonight, she needed sleep.

  The storm continued to rage, pounding on the roof of the second-floor apartment over Joe’s All-Star Diner, owned by her father. Thunder rumbled and lightning slashed, flashing brightness across the room, highlighting the white bookcase filled with yearbooks, novels with creased spines and rows of cookbooks, including the Solange Boucher collection she’d kept tucked behind the others to avoid causing her father further pain. Across the room was the matching desk with framed photos of Isabella and her father at graduation and another of Isabella and Tucker Holland when they had worked together at the diner while in high school and won the junior cook-off at the county fair.

  Tucker Holland.

  Wow.

  Now there was a blast from the past.

  Another regret to add to her list. Too afraid to make a move, she’d lost her friend to the woman he ended up marrying.

  And Isabella was placed firmly in the friend zone.

  She moved her pillow into a more comfortable position and pulled the comforter over her head.

  From the matching nightstand, her phone played a popular TV theme song.

  Without turning on the light, she reached for it, catching her former roommate’s name on the display. “Hey, Jeanne.”

  “Girl, it’s about time. Are you okay? I’ve been texting and calling, but I kept getting your voice mail. Where are you?”

  She winced at her friend’s panicked voice rising with each syllable and pulled the phone away from her ear. “Home.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m at the apartment, and you’re not here.”

  Isabella could picture her petite friend pacing the small five-room apartment they’d shared near the upscale resort where they’d worked together for the past five years.

  “Home as in Shelby Lake.”

  “What? Why? What about work?”

  “Justin fired me, remember? After I ruined the Warner wedding.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes as she recalled being summoned into his office, hearing the door close with a resounding click that made her stomach bottom out, then being told she was no longer employed at the Briarwood Resort.

  She’d never forget the humiliation of having to gather her knife case and personal belongings from her locker while the rest of the kitchen staff watched with pitying looks.

  “Oh, Bella. Justin was a jerk for caving to management pressure. It wasn’t your fault. In fact, we learned one of the busboys knocked over the peanut flour and tried to clean it up without anyone finding out. It blended in so well with the powdered sugar dusted over those gorgeous raspberry tartlets that he figured no one was the wiser. It was not your fault.”

  “Yet I’m the one who got fired.” She closed her eyes against another surge of wetness. “I’m sorry to leave you in a lurch, Jeanne. I left a note and money for next month’s rent on your dresser. I just couldn’t stay.”

  “So, what are you going to do now?”

  “Sleep, then drown my sorrows in a plate of Dad’s nachos and
try to figure out the rest of my life.”

  “How about if you slow down, skip the carbs and just focus on the next thing?”

  “Great advice. You should be a life coach.”

  “Girl, I’m serious. You’re one of the best chefs I know. You’ve been working hard for ten years, so walking away now is not an option. Since you’ve always wanted to open your own kitchen, maybe now’s the time to put your plan in place.”

  An alarm screamed, startling Isabella and jerking her upright. “I gotta go.”

  After ending the call and with her heart pounding in her ears, she scrambled out of bed and flew out of the room to find bloated clouds of gray smoke rising up the stairs.

  She rushed to the closed door next to hers and pounded on it. “Dad! Wake up!”

  Hearing no response, she threw open the door, flicked on the light and found the bed still made and the room empty.

  When she’d arrived at the diner about half an hour ago—just before midnight—all the lights had been off, and she’d parked next to Dad’s fifteen-year-old pickup in the back lot. She’d assumed he was in bed, since she hadn’t told him she was coming home.

  Pulling her T-shirt over her nose, she raced down the stairs, eyes stinging and lungs burning. The shrieking nearly deafened her as she pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen darkened with smoke.

  Jets from the fire-suppression system sprayed chemical agent across the flaming char grill, the flat top and the fryers, covering the appliances in a mucky foam blanket.

  She dropped her phone on the reach-in and covered her face with shaking hands. The acrid scent of the smoke clawed at her throat, causing her to cough.

  She grabbed a towel off the stainless-steel counter and dried the tears streaming down her face.

  Why was Dad cooking so late?

  “Dad?” Her watering eyes blurred as she moved through the kitchen calling his name.

  Her bare toes stubbed against something hard, and she nearly stumbled. She grabbed the salad reach-in to keep her balance and looked down. Stifling a scream, she dropped to her knees next to her father, who was sprawled on the slip-resistant tile floor between the grill and the upright cooler, a metal spatula on the floor beside him.

  “Dad!” Isabella pressed two fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. She nearly wept at the shallow beats at his clammy throat.

  She shook his shoulder. “Dad, Dad. Wake up. Can you hear me?”

  Lowering her cheek above his nose and mouth, his faint breath warmed her skin. Isabella grabbed her phone off the reach-in and tapped 911.

  A female voice answered. “Shelby Lake 911. What is the location of your emergency?”

  “Joe’s Diner. Ten thirty-one Copen Street at the bottom of Holland Hill.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Isabella Bradley.”

  “What’s your emergency?”

  “My father’s unconscious, but he’s breathing and has a weak pulse. He’s pale and his skin’s clammy.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Passed out on the kitchen floor.”

  “Does your father have any health issues?”

  “Type 2 diabetes.”

  “Age?”

  “Fifty-five.”

  “I’m dispatching help. Please stay on the line.”

  She waited for what felt like an eternity. Within minutes, wailing sounded down the quiet street and grew louder as the ambulance pulled into the parking lot, the revolving red lights reflecting through the wet windows.

  Jumping to a standing position, Isabella left her father’s side long enough to unlock the rear kitchen door and throw on the lights.

  Two paramedics dressed in navy windbreakers and black cargo pants rushed in out of the rain carrying medical bags. The shorter one, a woman with blond hair that brushed her shoulders, looked at Isabella with compassionate hazel eyes. “I’m Dalyn Nobles with Shelby Lake EMS.”

  The taller one touched her elbow. “Hey, Bella.”

  The deep timbre of his voice roused tucked-away memories. She looked into familiar summer sky–blue eyes—always cool and collected—inches from hers above a strong jaw and a half smile that sent her heart out of rhythm.

  “Tucker.” His name slipped past her lips almost like a sigh.

  He wrapped her in a quick one-armed hug, then lifted his nose. “Was there a fire?”

  “Dad must’ve been cooking and passed out. The fire suppression system put out the char grill fire.”

  With Dalyn beside him, Tucker hurried to her father’s side and shook his shoulder. “Hey, Joe. It’s Tucker. Can you hear me?”

  At no response, he glanced at Isabella as he pulled out a stethoscope and listened to her father’s chest. “How long has he been unconscious?”

  “I don’t know. I got in less than an hour ago and headed to my room. Then I heard the alarm and rushed down to the kitchen to find dispensed foam all over the cooking equipment.”

  “Joe was already passed out?” Tucker pulled a penlight from his pocket and shined it into her father’s eyes.

  “Yes.” She relayed the information she’d given to the dispatcher, including his recent diabetes diagnosis.

  Dalyn pulled out a small glucose meter and inserted a test strip. Then she pricked one of Dad’s fingers with a lancet and squeezed a drop of blood onto the test strip. She showed the display to Tucker.

  Tucker’s jaw tightened. “Your dad’s blood sugar is dangerously low. We need to get him to the hospital and get it stabilized.” He turned to Dalyn. “Establish IV access and administer D50.”

  “What’s D50?”

  “Dextrose. It will help boost his blood sugar level.” He pushed to his feet and gave Isabella’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

  As the adrenaline drained from her body, she started shaking. She tucked her chin to her chest so he wouldn’t see the tears that filled her eyes and shivered as a rain-soaked wind blew through the open kitchen door.

  Tucker shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “I’m going to grab the stretcher. You can ride in the ambulance with your dad.”

  Isabella glanced down at her rumpled clothes and bare feet. “I need shoes.”

  Casting a quick glance at her father, she headed for the doors then turned to Tucker. “Is Dad going to be okay?”

  “We’ll do whatever we can to make sure he is. His blood sugar had to be dangerously low for him to pass out. His brain can go only so long before permanent damage occurs.”

  The compassion in his eyes and his gentle smile should have soothed her, but his last words tangled around the fear settling in her stomach. “How could this happen?”

  “Poor diet, lack of exercise, missing doses of meds, stress. And after he let it slip about the possibility of the diner closing, Joe’s definitely been under a lot of stress.”

  Her hand pressed to the door, Isabella froze, her eyes wide. “Wait. W-what do you mean about the diner closing?”

  Tucker looked at her, then shook his head. “Joe didn’t tell you.”

  “No.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Man, Bella. I’m sorry. I assumed that’s why you’d come home.”

  “No, I came home because...well, that doesn’t matter right now.” She waved away the rest of her words. “What happened?”

  Tucker held up a hand. “I said too much already. We need to get him loaded into the ambulance. Talk to Joe once he’s stable.”

  The knot in Isabella’s stomach cinched tighter. The diner had been Dad’s lifeline since he was left to raise a preschooler on his own, the staff and customers becoming his extended family. And that’s what had given her comfort to leave for culinary school.

  But the diner has always been her home away from home. Her safe place, her sense of security.

  And she’d
do whatever it took to preserve that.

  Whatever was going on, Dad didn’t have to handle it alone anymore. She’d put her own dreams on hold to help him get well again and prevent the diner from closing.

  Somehow.

  * * *

  It had been the kind of night where someone could have died.

  And if Isabella Bradley had shown up any later, then she would’ve had to start planning her father’s funeral.

  Tucker hated storms, particularly tornados, but last night’s downpour was a close second.

  Especially when they had returned to the station and changed into dry uniforms, only to be called out again for a motor vehicle accident—a rollover with fatalities this time.

  He and Dalyn had transported Joe Bradley to the emergency department, and as much as he’d wanted to sit with Bella until Joe was stabilized, they had returned to the station only to be called out again. Not the way he wanted to end his twenty-four-hour shift.

  Pulling the bloody young man off his barely breathing wife, who didn’t survive the trip to the ER, despite being less than ten minutes away...yeah, it was getting old.

  The dude’s sobbing echoed Tucker’s grief after losing his own wife nearly three years ago.

  The kid’s life wouldn’t be the same again. He’d have to learn how to wake up and face the day by himself. Grief would be his new companion, coloring his world in shades of gray and despair.

  No matter how many calls Tucker responded to, it never got easier. And last night’s events churned up a storm within him—the unsettled feeling that change was inevitable.

  Because if Tucker didn’t make some changes soon, he was going to be out of a job. Then he and his five-year-old twins were going to be in a bigger mess than they were now.

  In the two months since they’d moved out of the farmhouse—to give his newly wedded father and stepmother the privacy they deserved—and back to the house Tucker had shared with his late wife so his twins could get settled before school started six weeks ago, he’d been hit with one disaster after another. That included hiring and firing two nannies before finding Mandy, who was the perfect fit for his family.