Rosemary Cottage

by Colleen Coble

  His big hands gripped her shoulders, and he pulled her away to stare in her face. His eyes were tender and earnest. “It’s a good thing we have Raine then, isn’t it? Because I can see that mothering spirit in you. And we could always adopt if we want more. There are lots of children in the world who need a home.”

  Her mouth trembled. “But what about the cancer? What if it comes back?”

  He drew her close and rested his chin on her head. “Honey, we have this day, this hour. And that’s enough. None of us can predict how long we have. I could die before you. We take what God gives us.”

  She pulled away and stared into his face. “You still want me? Even barren?” She blinked at the burning moisture in her eyes. “I was engaged once. He was from a well-known family and was expected to produce an heir. He broke the engagement the day after my surgery.”

  His fingers convulsed on her arms. “The scumbag.” His voice was tight. “His loss is my gain though.”

  He bent his head and kissed her again. His lips held a sweet promise. She was breathless when he lifted his head. “Convinced?” His eyes were teasing.

  “I’m not sure,” she murmured. “Maybe you’d better try that one more time.”

  But as he bent his head, Tom exited the door of the house, shouting, “They’ve found Raine! Heather remembered something and rescued her. Let’s go!”

  Adrenaline kicked Amy into action, and together they ran for the Jeep. “Thank you, God.”

  Only one small house light twinkled in the dark landscape below. The chopper swooped down to land, and Curtis gripped Amy’s hand. In a few minutes, he’d have Raine back in his arms. “They said she was fine. I can’t believe it.”

  “And Heather rescued her.” Amy shook her head. “I can’t wrap my head around that part. She’s just a kid herself, you know.”

  On the flight, Tom had told them that the cocaine had been traced to Grant. He’d used Gina’s empty apartment for pickup after he’d gotten hooked on the drug himself. Ben had given him the key for a cut of the profit and some of the stash as well. At least Gina hadn’t been part of that. Preston had also been taken into custody for questioning about his part in Raine’s kidnapping.

  The helicopter began to descend. Several people were on the porch of the house, and he strained to identify his niece, but it was too dark to make out more than just outlines. When the rails touched the ground and the rotor began to whir slower, he pushed open the door and jumped out, then turned to help Amy.

  “Watch your head!” he shouted over the rotor noise.

  Bent almost double, the two of them ran for the house. Emerging into the wash of light from the porch lamp, he stared at the figures on the porch. Edith held Raine.

  Her face red and blotchy from happy tears, Edith lifted the little girl toward him. “She’s fine, Curtis, just fine!”

  “Raine!” Curtis barely managed to whisper her name.

  The little girl reached for him. His eyes stung as he stepped onto the porch and took her in his arms. Her small hands patted his face, and she kissed him. He inhaled the sweet scent of her, the feel of her in his arms, and his eyes welled. “Oh, honey, are you okay?”

  She babbled something he couldn’t understand and gave him a grin that melted him into a puddle right there. His throat closed, and he looked at Amy, who was weeping unabashedly. “Look who’s here to see you.” He turned Raine so she saw Amy.

  The little one reached for Amy. “Mom.” She hesitated and clutched him again as though she couldn’t bear to let go of him. Which was fine with him.

  Amy smiled through her tears. “She’s clean and looks well cared for, Curtis. God heard our prayers.” She reached out and caressed Raine’s silky dark curls. “We’re so glad to see you, honey.”

  The baby babbled something again, then offered Amy the small doll clutched in her hand. Amy took it and put the doll on her shoulder. Raine smiled wider, then reached again for Amy, who quickly leaned over to brush her lips against the baby’s soft cheek.

  Amy pulled away, and Raine clutched Curtis’s shirt again. Amy’s smile was wide. “I don’t think she’s leaving your arms. I know I never plan to.”

  He put one arm around her and turned to speak with his aunt. “I wouldn’t let you anyway.”

  Edith was still crying. “She’s home, Curtis. God took care of her.”

  He wished he had another arm to hug his aunt. “I know, I know.” Amy’s eyes were smiling, and he knew she wanted Edith to know their good news. “Um, there are going to be changes at the house. But we don’t want you going anywhere.”

  Edith’s eyes went wide and scared. “Changes?”

  “A move is in our future.”

  “Move?” Edith’s voice was careful.

  “You’ve always loved Rosemary Cottage. How’d you like to live there? Well, as soon as we can arrange a wedding. And we’re both going to finalize Raine’s adoption.”

  Edith’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my stars,” she said, punctuating every word.

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He scooped Amy closer.

  Raine put her hand on Amy’s arm. “Stay,” she said in a contented voice.

  DEAR READER,

  I’m so excited to share Rosemary Cottage with you! The story has been a real labor of love. You may not know this, but I lost one of my brothers in a terrible lightning accident in 1990. My life was forever changed that day, and I still miss him. I often find myself daydreaming about him walking in the door, still alive. But I know Randy is still alive in heaven, more alive than he’s ever been.

  I loved how Amy struggled with being real in her life. That’s such a common thing in our society, isn’t it? I struggle with it myself. I’m a positive person and hate to complain or bring someone else down. But being real is how we’re supposed to behave. I’ll work on it if you will, okay?

  I’m a bit of a “healer” myself and am always trying to solve health problems for my friends. I’m very interested in natural medicine, and it was fun to put some of my obsessions into Amy’s character—like Bulletproof Coffee made with Toomer’s infrared roasted coffee. That’s coffee with MCT oil and butter whipped in the blender. I know it sounds terrible, but it tastes a lot like coffee with cream, and it’s so good for you. I drink it every day. And I’ve recently discovered the benefits of cold immersion (thanks to Dr. Jack Kruse) so I had to have Edith surfing in cold water. I tell everyone that nothing is sacred when it comes to writing. Anything my family does or I do ends up making its way into the pages of one of my books!

  As always, I love to hear from you! E-mail me anytime at colleen@colleencoble.com.

  Your friend,

  Colleen

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. What is your favorite part of the Hope Beach setting?

  2. How well do you think you know your siblings or other people close to you? What would shock you?

  3. Is there someplace from your childhood where you would want to go to find solace? What is special about it?

  4. What did you think of Curtis’s decision to keep Raine’s parentage to himself?

  5. Have you ever kept something to yourself because it was too painful to talk about? What helped you get past the pain?

  6. Do you know a midwife or have you had any experience with home birth?

  7. Amy was a natural healer. Have you ever known anyone like that, or are you like that?

  8. Heather was taken in by Grant’s smooth talk and good looks. Why do you think she was so easily persuaded?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My team at Thomas Nelson is a dream to work with. I can’t imagine writing without my editor, Ami McConnell. I crave her analytical eye and love her heart. Ames, you are truly like a daughter to me. Our fiction publisher, Daisy Hutton, is a gale-force wind of fresh air. Love her already! Marketing manager Katie Bond is always willing to listen to my harebrained ideas and has been completely supportive for years. I wouldn’t get far without you, friend! Fabulous cover guru
Kristen Vasgaard works hard to create the perfect cover—and does. You rock, Kristen! And, of course, I can’t forget my other friends who are all part of my amazing fiction family: Amanda Bostic, Becky Monds, Jodi Hughes, Kerri Potts, Ruthie Dean, Heather McCulloch, and Laura Dickerson. You are all such a big part of my life. I wish I could name all the great folks at Thomas Nelson who work on selling my books through different venues. I’m truly blessed!

  Julee Schwarzburg is a dream editor to work with. She totally gets romantic suspense, and our partnership is a joy. Thanks for all your hard work to make this book so much better!

  My agent, Karen Solem, has helped shape my career in many ways, and that includes kicking an idea to the curb when necessary. Thanks, Karen, you’re the best!

  Writing can be a lonely business, but God has blessed me with great writing friends and critique partners. Hannah Alexander (Cheryl Hodde), Kristin Billerbeck, Diann Hunt, and Denise Hunter make up the Girls Write Out squad (www.GirlsWriteOut.blogspot.com). I couldn’t make it through a day without my peeps! Thanks to all of you for the work you do on my behalf and for your friendship. Thank you, friends!

  I’m so grateful for my husband, Dave, who carts me around from city to city, washes towels, and chases down dinner without complaint. As I type this, he has been free of prostate cancer for nearly two years, and we’re so thankful! My kids—Dave and Kara (and now Donna and Mark)—and my grandsons, James and Jorden Packer, love and support me in every way possible. Love you guys! Donna and Dave brought me the delight of my life—our little granddaughter, Alexa! She’s talking like a grown-up now, and having her spend the night is more fun than I can tell you.

  Most important, I give my thanks to God, who has opened such amazing doors for me and makes the journey a golden one.

  AN EXCERPT FROM WITHOUT A TRACE

  It was days like this, when the sun bounced off Lake Superior with an eye-squinting brilliance, that Bree Nicholls forgot all her qualms about living where the Snow King ruled nine months of the year. There was no other place on earth like the U.P.—Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. With Keweenaw Peninsula to the north and Ottawa National Forest to the south, there could be no more beautiful spot in the world. The cold, crystal-clear waters of the northernmost Great Lake stretched to the horizon as far as she could see.

  But she’d never find those kids by focusing on the seascape. Pressing her foot to the accelerator, she left the lake behind as she urged her old Jeep Cherokee forward along the rutted dirt track. Bree’s best friend, Naomi Heinonen, steadied herself against the door’s armrest and looked over her shoulder at the two dogs still safely confined in their kennels. The Kitchigami Wilderness Preserve lay to the east, past Miser, a drive of only fifteen miles or so, but on this washboard road, it took longer than Bree liked.

  “Don’t kill us getting there,” Naomi shouted above the road noise.

  Bree didn’t reply. These lost children weren’t some vacationers without ties; they were residents of Rock Harbor, two of their own. And night would be here soon. If Naomi were driving, her foot would be heavy on the accelerator too. The preserve was a formidable tract that could swallow up two kids without a trace.

  The wind churned autumn’s red and gold leaves in eddies and blew them across the road like brightly colored tumbleweeds. Equally colorful trees crowded the hills like giant banks of mums. The U.P. in autumn was Bree’s favorite time, except when evershorter days put strangleholds on their search efforts.

  M-18 headed on east, but Bree made a sharp turn onto Pakkala Road, which would take them into a heavily forested area. In the spring, motor homes and SUVs pulling campers plied the road on their way to experience some of the last wilderness left in the Midwest. Today the road was practically empty.

  “Fill me in on what we know,” Bree said.

  “Donovan O’Reilly reported Emily and Timmy missing three hours ago. They were on some outdoor nature thing with their school,” Naomi said.

  Bree knew Donovan O’Reilly—he owned the local Ace Hardware store. His wife had left him and the kids nearly two years ago, and now his eyes had a haunted look, as though he wondered what fate would hand him next. Bree often stopped by Ace to pick up supplies for the ongoing renovation of her lighthouse home, and a friendship of sorts had developed between them.

  “One of the students said she heard Emily talk about seeing a raccoon,” Naomi continued, “so that might be what caused the kids to wander off. It’s not much to go on, but they’ve started searching.” She chewed on her lip. “You remember Timmy has diabetes? I wonder when his shot is due.”

  “I was thinking about that.” Bree imagined Donovan was out of his mind with worry. “Donovan asked me out last week; did I tell you that?” she asked. She’d been tempted to tell him yes. Her lighthouse echoed with silence, but she had realized it wasn’t fair to use someone like Donovan to ward off her loneliness. “I said no, of course.”

  Naomi didn’t reply, and Bree looked at her curiously. “What? You don’t like him? Didn’t he used to be your brother’s best friend? You probably know him and the kids pretty well.”

  A flush moved to Naomi’s cheeks, and she looked out the window. “That was a long time ago. I only see him at the hardware store now, and I like him fine. Why did you say no?”

  “I’m not ready. Maybe I never will be.” Bree tapped the steering wheel with impatient fingers, wishing the Jeep could go faster over the bumpy, rutted road. Instead, she slowed and turned onto the access road that would take her back to the campground parking lot.

  As she pulled in, Bree saw people fanning out in a search grid. There was an assortment of searchers, ranging from teenagers like Tommy Lempinen to professional types like Inetta Harris, who was still dressed in her business suit. When one of their own was threatened, Rock Harbor residents pulled together.

  Bree and Naomi got out, attached leashes to the dogs, and shrugged their arms into their ready-kit backpacks, fully outfitted with first-aid kit, small plastic tarp, energy bars, flashlight, flares, bug repellant, towelettes, compass, Swiss pocketknife, radio, topographic map of the area, canteen, sunglasses, sunscreen, and every other item one was likely to need on a search. A young woman in a brown National Park Service uniform was Bree’s first target.

  “We’re the Kitchigami K-9 Search and Rescue team,” Bree told her, though that much was printed on the bright orange vests that both the women and the dogs wore. “I’m Bree Nicholls. Who’s in charge?”

  The young woman pointed toward a group of people nearly hidden by a stand of sycamore. “The lead ranger is over there.” Bree looked and recognized Donovan’s ink-dark hair among them.

  Bree and Naomi headed toward the group. Donovan saw Bree and broke away. Pain contorted his handsome features. With his black hair and dark blue eyes, Bree had always thought he looked a bit like Pierce Brosnan, though today he was too upset and pale to carry off the James Bond sangfroid.

  “Please, you’ve got to find the kids!” His hands trembled as he thrust two small jackets toward her. “They don’t even have their jackets on, and it’s supposed to get to near freezing tonight.” The torment in his eyes spoke of his fear of loss more clearly than his words. “Timmy’s shot is overdue now.”

  His voice quavered, and Bree put a comforting hand on his arm. She knew the anxiety he felt. “We’ll find them, Donovan. The dogs are well trained, and Samson has a special radar for children.”

  His head snapped up as if mounted on a spring. A dawning hope filled his face. “I’ll come with you.”

  How well Bree remembered that overwhelming desire to help. The waiting was the hard part. When her husband’s plane went down, taking their son and all her hopes for their future with it, she had felt a crushing need to do something. In her case, there had been nothing to do but try to move on. With any luck, Donovan probably would not be in that situation.

  She shook her head as she took the jackets from his hand. “You have to stay close to base, Donovan. The kids will be scared when
we find them, and you’ll need to be in a position to get to them quickly when they’re found. Try to stay calm. We still have several hours before sunset. We’ll find them.”

  Donovan nodded, but his gaze flickered from Bree to Naomi with a naked appeal in his eyes. “I want to do something.”

  “Pray,” Naomi advised.

  His eyes squeezed shut. “I started that as soon as I learned they were gone,” he whispered.

  Naomi’s answer to everything was prayer. Prayer had done little for Bree’s own desperate pleas. What use was a God like that?

  “Let’s go,” Bree said.

  As they approached the tree line, a slim, feminine figure stepped out of a stand of jack pine and came toward them. Bree lifted a hand in greeting. She should have known her sister-in-law wouldn’t be far from the action. She craved media attention the way the mine owners craved cheap workers.

  Hilary Kaleva pushed aside the branches barring her way into the clearing as though they were a personal affront. Hilary, Rock Harbor’s mayor, was having the mother of all bad-hair days. Her hair, blond like her brother Rob’s, was swept up in a formerly elegant French roll, but strands loosened by tree branches now clung damply to her neck. Streaks of mud marred her navy suit, and bits of pine needles clung to the fabric.

  “It’s the poodle,” Naomi muttered to Bree. “I’m out of here. I’ll wait with the rangers.”

  “Coward,” Bree murmured. She wished she could laugh. Rob used to call Hilary his “poodle sister,” which Hilary found less than amusing, but Bree and Naomi had always thought the description apt. Hilary could be sweet and loving one moment then turn and bite without provocation. And she talked until Bree grew weary of listening. But she could be just as endearing as a poodle when she wanted to be. From the expression on her face, today wasn’t one of those days.