He never knew he had a son...
Reawakening lost love in Dry Creek
Four years ago, an accident put Mark Nelson into a coma—before Hannah Stelling could tell him she was pregnant with their child. Now she’s back in town, and Mark’s recovered. But even before his injury, Hannah felt Mark’s ambitions pulling him away. While Hannah knows their little boy needs his father, can she trust Mark with her son’s heart...and hers?
“I know about Jeremy—our son.”
Mark had learned about Jeremy’s existence only a few months ago.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah said softly.
“Don’t be. I’m glad to be a father. Very glad. I’m anxious to meet Jeremy.”
He didn’t want to pressure Hannah, but he could hardly wait to see the boy.
“He’s a good boy. He’ll want to know you, but I have a lot to talk to him about before I do anything to unsettle him.”
“Of course.” He didn’t want to cause his son any distress. Then a suspicion came to him. “Does Jeremy even know about me?”
“He’s never asked. I read a book by this doctor who recommended waiting until a child asks about a missing parent—especially if...”
“You thought I was going to die.”
Hannah flushed guiltily. “I prayed you wouldn’t.”
“And I didn’t,” Mark said, clipping the words. Everyone else had thought that he was going to die; he didn’t know why Hannah should have believed otherwise. It still felt like a betrayal, though.
Janet Tronstad grew up on her family’s farm in central Montana and now lives in Turlock, California, where she is always at work on her next book. She has written more than thirty books, many of them set in the fictitious town of Dry Creek, Montana, where the men spend the winters gathered around the potbellied stove in the hardware store and the women make jelly in the fall.
Books by Janet Tronstad
Love Inspired
Dry Creek
Dry Creek Sweethearts
A Dry Creek Courtship
Snowbound in Dry Creek
Small-Town Brides
“A Dry Creek Wedding”
Silent Night in Dry Creek
Wife Wanted in Dry Creek
Small-Town Moms
“A Dry Creek Family”
Easter in Dry Creek
Dry Creek Daddy
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Dry Creek Daddy
Janet Tronstad
Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.
—James 5:16
This book is dedicated with gratitude to those who make possible the many libraries in the places where I have lived—the latest being the women who staff the small volunteer library at the Covenant Retirement Village in Turlock, California. Their work brightens my days. Thanks to Jan A., Marge P. and Alice M.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Snowbound with the Best Man by Allie Pleiter
Chapter One
The sky was still dark when Mark Nelson pulled his pickup to a stop in front of the café, the only place in the small town of Dry Creek, Montana, that was usually open this early. The eatery’s door was shut, but before he could switch his engine off, a woman slipped a delicate hand around the blind covering the café’s large window and flipped the Closed sign to Open. His headlights were on and Mark saw a woman’s profile and thought he recognized the hand. He wasn’t fast enough to get a good look at the ring finger before the hand was withdrawn, but he told himself it had to be bare. He hadn’t seen Hannah Stelling in four years—not since they’d been high school sweethearts—but surely someone would have told him if she had become engaged.
Mark shut off the engine and stepped out of his cab. The gravel under his boots crunched as he walked to the café and climbed the steps.
The one fact he didn’t need anyone to tell him was that Hannah did not want to see him. He wasn’t sure why she had moved back to Dry Creek and taken a job at the café, but a dozen Return to Sender letters told him that it wasn’t because she missed him.
He paused briefly before turning the knob and opening the weathered door in front of him. The overhead light was bright inside the café and Mark involuntarily blinked. He heard the sound of a metal fork hitting the linoleum floor before his eyes adjusted and he saw Hannah staring at him across the empty room. She wore a red T-shirt and denim jeans. Her face was drawn, her auburn hair pulled back in a long ponytail.
“You.” That was all she said, but her voice was stretched so tight it almost vibrated.
He recognized the look on her face. It was the same one she’d had over a decade ago when she appeared for the first time in the open door of his fourth-grade classroom. She’d been ten years old and had just been adopted by the Stellings. Her hair, a ragged copper cap, looked like she’d hacked at it with a kitchen knife, and maybe she had. No one was with her that day; Mr. Stelling had dropped her off and then left her to make her own way into the school. Hannah’s stance in the doorway was defiant. Her jeans had a few worn places and her shoes were scuffed. The other kids were afraid to even smile at her. But looking into her eyes, Mark knew she was scared.
Since then, he must have lost the ability to read her eyes, because he could not tell how she was feeling now. Everything was silent as they stood there in the main room of the café. He heard the sounds of someone in the kitchen shoving pots around, and a radio started up on a station that must be the news. The half-dozen tables in front of him were covered with red-and-white-checked cloths, and everything looked ready for customers.
“Of course it’s me,” Mark finally said, not sure what else to do. Maybe Hannah just needed time to adjust. He surveyed every inch of her pixie face, searching for the subtle differences one would expect after a four-year absence. Her skin was ivory. Her bones delicate. Her hazel eyes so filled with shadows that they could have been black. She was twenty-one years old now, but looked the same as he remembered her at seventeen. He was only a few months older than her but it felt like he’d aged a dozen years since he’d seen her last.
He saw her lips move, but it took a few seconds for her question about whether he knew her to register with him.
“Of course, I know you.” Mark was stunned she would think he could possibly forget her. He understood people were nervous around him because he’d been lying in a hospital bed in a coma for a little over four years. Everyone had been expecting him to die, but he’d held on and then he’d woken up. Some of his memory had been slow to return, but he’d always known Hannah. She had been his best friend ever since she had stood in that classroom door.
They both seemed like different people today, though. Back then, the two of them hid nothing from each other. Given the way she was stari
ng impassively at him, he figured that had all changed.
“I’m completely recovered,” Mark said and then paused. “Well, almost.”
He had to admit that he didn’t remember everything about the gun incident that had lodged a bullet in his brain and put him in the unconscious state, but he was fine. He certainly wasn’t going to worry her about the gaps in his memory.
“Ninety-eight percent, at least,” he added.
Hannah didn’t seem convinced. She was studying him. “Then what’s wrong? You had that look in your eyes when you came in—like you had something to say.”
Mark winced. He had forgotten how well she could read him. “It’s your father.”
“You’ve seen him?” Hannah’s face went blank for a moment. Then her cheeks turned pink with what looked like alarm. It was the most animated she’d been since Mark had stepped into the room. His heart sank. She could clearly be moved to concern, just not for him.
“I came from Miles City a few minutes ago and saw your father’s pickup sitting beside the freeway,” Mark said, telling himself to focus on the details. Hannah would want to know it all. “He had an accident about a mile out. I came along as the ambulance was loading him up.” Mark had gone to the florist shop in Miles City and bought a long-stemmed rose for Hannah’s first day on the job. “I was worried when I saw him.”
“But that can’t be right.” Hannah shook her head as though her hearing was faulty.
“It was him,” Mark said. She’d never questioned him before. Maybe she just didn’t believe he was mentally able to tell her what had happened.
“I just can’t believe it,” Hannah said. “I only got back to Dry Creek last night, but he was out in the field behind the barn this morning when I left. I didn’t have time to go out and talk to him then because I didn’t want to be late for work and I had to take Jeremy to—” Hannah stopped abruptly.
She swallowed. Finally she was focused on Mark, but her stricken expression gave him no comfort. Her defenses were still there. He wanted her to be his sweetheart again, but she obviously did not want the same.
“I took Jeremy to Mrs. Hargrove’s,” she said, finishing her sentence and then gathering herself together before adding, “You remember the older woman who teaches Sunday school here?”
Mark watched a new, deeper blush climb up Hannah’s neck and flood her cheeks with color. For the first time today, she looked vulnerable. Then she turned away from him.
“Of course I remember her,” Mark said, trying to keep his voice even. “I grew up here, too.” He paused. “And I know about Jeremy—our son.”
He felt a hitch in his breath when he spoke of the boy. He had learned about Jeremy’s existence only a few months ago. That’s why he had been frantically writing Hannah those letters—the ones that had all come back to him unopened.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah said softly and then looked away.
“Don’t be.” He reached out a hand to her. Her defenses were down and all he wanted to do was comfort her.
She took a step back from him. “I’m fine now.”
“Of course you are.” He withdrew his hand.
The biggest and best news he’d had when recovering from the coma had been that he and Hannah had a baby. Jeremy was four years old now. For months, Mark’s sister and father had postponed telling him about the child since the doctors had said not to upset Mark. “I’m glad to be a father. Very glad. I’m anxious to meet Jeremy.”
He didn’t want to pressure Hannah, but he could hardly wait to see the boy.
She finally met his eyes.
“He’s a good boy,” Hannah said, her voice gentle. She smiled for the first time. “He’ll want to know you, but I have a lot to talk to him about before I do anything to unsettle him.”
“Of course.” Mark bit back a retort. He didn’t want to cause his son any distress. Hannah should know that already. But he supposed he could not just show up and expect everything to be smooth. Then a suspicion came to him. “Does Jeremy even know about me?”
“He’s never asked.” Hannah gave him an apologetic look. “I read a book by this doctor who recommended waiting until a child asks about a missing parent—especially if...”
It was silent for a moment and then Mark realized what had happened. “You thought I was going to die.”
Hannah flushed guiltily. “I prayed you wouldn’t.”
“And I didn’t,” Mark said, clipping the words. He knew he was being unreasonable. Everyone else had thought that he was going to die; he didn’t know why Hannah should have believed otherwise. It still felt like a betrayal, though.
Hannah was silent a moment and then she said, “I think you must be mistaken about my father. There are a lot of white pickups that look like his. About the only thing he said to me last night was that he was going to get the last of the wheat crop in today before the rain came. I know he was doing that this morning because he had on the same pair of overalls he’s worn for years when harvesting. So, no,” she said, looking at Mark with resolve. “He wouldn’t have been going to Miles City.”
Mark didn’t know what Mr. Stelling had meant when he’d told Hannah he’d be getting in the last of the crop. Mark passed the older man’s fields almost daily. Mr. Stelling hadn’t started yet and everyone else in Dry Creek had finished their harvesting.
It was the coma, Mark thought. People, and apparently Hannah was one of them, worried that it turned a person forgetful about the things that were happening in the present. But it didn’t. He might not remember every little thing from before the coma, but he knew what he’d seen this morning.
“Maybe your dad needed to go for a new part for the combine,” Mark replied calmly. He knew Hannah had mixed feelings about her adoptive father, but Mark always felt she secretly longed to be able to turn to the man like a daughter would, even if he was one of the most difficult men Mark knew. “He was wearing that old gray plaid shirt of his, along with those overalls. The shirt had a hole in the sleeve.”
Hannah’s eyes went wide.
“That’s right,” she whispered. “Mom bought that shirt for him before she died. He always wore it when he did the harvesting. And he had torn it the last year I was here. He never fixed it.”
Hannah’s auburn lashes were long and made her dark hazel eyes look striking. They were her most beautiful feature. But then, in high school he had declared her kneecaps to be works of art when he realized one day how pretty they were. It had made her giggle. Which had made him kiss her. Which had made her so breathless she started to hiccup. Which had made them both laugh. Mark wished they were back in that time.
“My father hasn’t called,” she interrupted his thoughts, bringing them back to the present. “He knows I’m working at the café this morning. He’d call if he had trouble.”
Mark didn’t have time to answer before he heard the door open that led into the room from the kitchen. Lois Wagner, the other waitress who worked in the café, walked out to the area where he and Hannah stood.
“Here we go,” Lois said in a pleasant voice as she held out a white butcher-style apron. She wore a red sleeveless blouse instead of a red T-shirt like Hannah did, but the middle-aged woman’s jeans were just as well worn as Hannah’s. Mark had gotten to know Lois in the past few weeks and he gave her a brief smile as she nodded to him. She was the one who had told him Hannah would be starting her new job today.
“The newest piece of our unofficial uniform,” Lois said as she focused on Hannah again.
Hannah took the apron, but did not reach to put it on over her head. “My father just had a traffic accident.” She spoke to Lois and then turned to Mark. “He wasn’t hurt bad, was he?”
“I didn’t see the other car, but it looked like a fender bender from what I could see,” Mark answered. “We could contact the hospital. If he’s unconscious, he can’t call anyone.”
&nb
sp; “Oh,” Hannah exclaimed, sounding even more worried as she laid the apron over a nearby chair.
“He probably only has a bruise or two,” Mark said, wishing he hadn’t said anything about the man being unconscious.
“If you want to go to the hospital, you should,” Lois said as she put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I usually do the early shift by myself anyway, and Linda will be in at ten o’clock to help with the noon rush.”
Linda Enger was the café owner. The staff at the café always said they couldn’t ask for a sweeter boss.
Hannah turned to the other waitress, looking relieved. “You’re sure it’s all right? I don’t want to leave you shorthanded. I need this job and it’s only my first day.”
“Don’t worry,” Lois said. “We might not get many people anyway since it looks like rain. It truly is okay. You can start tomorrow morning instead.”
“I will check on him, then,” Hannah said. “Just to be sure everything is okay.”
“I’ll drive you,” Mark offered.
Hannah looked like she’d protest, but Lois spoke. “Let him, honey. I doubt you even know how to get to the hospital.”
“No, I don’t,” Hannah said, sounding startled at the realization. “I know how to get almost everywhere in the county, but I never drove there. My father always did the driving when my mother was there.”
Mark wasn’t surprised that Hannah had never been in the hospital because of any need of her own. She’d had no issues except, of course, her pregnancy. She must have been in a hospital then. Mark’s head started to hurt. The two of them needed to talk about the pregnancy. He hadn’t known about the baby when they’d had their last big fight. He’d been in a coma when the baby was born, but he still felt guilty for not being there.
“I’ll let you know how he is,” Hannah said as she walked over to the counter and, reaching behind it, drew out a small black purse with a shoulder strap. Mark thought he remembered it as one she’d had in high school. He was going to ask her about that but then stopped himself.
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