by Delia Latham
Be very careful, Alexa. Your heart’s not ready for the likes of Mitch Gaynor.
Or any other man. She’d already tried the marriage thing. Tried it to the tune of twenty-three wasted years and a heart that felt used, abused, and tossed aside like a worthless piece of trash.
Not that any of that mattered. Mitch wasn’t interested in Lexi’s heart. He was just a nice man who wanted to help her through a situation not unlike what he’d recently endured.
He wanted to be a friend.
Alzheimer’s had sucked Lexi’s dearest friend into a hopeless place where she couldn’t follow. She desperately needed someone to fill the void left by Mama’s mental absence. If Mitch wanted to be that someone, what could it hurt?
But gratitude was all she had to give, and she couldn’t afford to forget it—not for a single moment.
****
By the time she turned into her own driveway some time later, Lexi had worked herself into a frantic state.
She wasn’t blind, and she wasn’t an idiot. Todd’s icy blue eyes had ceased to show any kind of admiration or desire early in their marriage, but she hadn’t forgotten the look. Mitch liked her. A lot. The expression in those warm, silver-gray eyes of his said more than “let’s be friends.”
Worse, the attraction was entirely mutual and created an almost palpable magnetic current between them.
Lexi unlocked her door and slipped into the tiny living room. She stopped to slide her purse into the coat closet, and then hurried into the kitchen. Coffee wasn’t one of her daily rituals, but she enjoyed it now and then, usually when she needed something strong and bracing to get through another hour.
This hour seemed wonderfully suited to a cup of new energy.
As she measured coffee grounds into the pot and turned it on, a soft, furry body slinked against her ankles. “Meow!”
Todd had adamantly refused to have an animal or to allow Lexi one. He wanted nothing in his life that might “tie him down”—things like children and pets. Furthermore, his wife must be free to join him on those rare occasions when he needed her by his side for whatever self-centered purpose merited such a thing.
When he left, Lexi immediately rescued a cat from the local shelter. Doing something her husband had forbidden somehow wrote “final” on the breakup.
But she refused to give the animal a name. Taking her cue from the lead character in her favorite classic movie, Lexi held to the opinion that no living creature should be owned by another. Cats in particular, independent creatures that they were, never really belonged to anyone.
She’d always felt like one of Todd’s belongings rather than a cherished partner in marriage. And then he’d insisted on calling her ‘Lex,’ even introducing her to his friends and business associates by the hateful nickname she detested.
With that in mind, she simply called the creature by its breed. Cat was her friend. Indeed, the feline was Lexi’s only friend and a treasured companion.
“Hi, Cat.” She picked her up and nuzzled the soft fur. A loud purring told her Cat also enjoyed the contact. “Hungry, my lady?”
“Meow!”
She opened a can and dumped its contents into a bowl on the floor, then leaned against the counter, mulling over the day’s unexpected events.
Why had she been so stridently directed to go see her mother? She’d found nothing wrong. Mama hadn’t had a problem of any kind, but neither had there been any improvement. Everything at Rosewood remained exactly as it had for the past year.
The author provided the only difference in today’s visit and all the ones before.
She emitted a harsh burst of laughter. Cat jumped, and shot Lexi a disdainful look before returning to her meal.
“Sorry, your highness,” Lexi murmured. No matter what, she doubted Mitch was the reason she’d been sent hurrying to Rosewood this morning.
A gentle tap-tap-tap jarred her from her musings. She cast a glance at the coffeepot, which wasn’t quite ready to part with its contents, and hurried to answer the door. In the tiny entry, she smoothed a hand over her hair and pasted on a smile before swinging the door wide.
No one was there.
Odd. She hadn’t taken that long to answer. Her gaze wandered the area, and she caught her breath, fixated on a figure just outside her gate.
The woman wore a loose garment of pure white from neckline to ankle. A glorious array of silky curls so black they reflected a blue undertone hung well below her waist. As she moved away from the gate—graceful to the point of seeming to float along the ground—some trick of sunlight and shadow placed a glowing aura around her figure.
“Wait!” Lexi didn’t know she was going to call out until she already had. “Please…I’m here.”
Her visitor stopped, then slowly turned, and Lexi gasped. Never had she seen such breathtaking beauty. Perfect, porcelain skin enhanced the woman’s finely molded facial structure. But Lexi’s gaze was drawn as if by a powerful magnet to the stranger’s golden eyes, which shone with an inner light.
Lexi could neither move nor look away from the lovely, serene face.
Then the lady spoke. Her voice washed over Lexi’s troubled soul like a soft summer rain…yet with the strength of a gale-force wind.
“Alexa Carlisle, beloved child of God. Your journey to healing has begun.”
Lexi blinked but still could not find her voice.
Her visitor turned, and with perfect, delicate grace, glided off toward the big house. Lexi watched her go, longing to call out to her again but powerless to do so. She blinked back a rush of inexplicable tears. By the time her blurry eyes focused, the woman was gone.
With all the longing she possessed, Lexi wanted to see her unknown visitor again. She even took one impulsive step forward, thinking…what? That she’d chase the woman down? What had gotten into her?
Instead, she tripped over a small basket on her front porch, and whatever strange phenomenon she’d just experienced released its grip. She bent to pick up the rattan container, admiring a gorgeous purple bow tied to the handle.
Back inside, she set the basket on her tiny kitchen table and stared at it. What could it be? And why had the captivating stranger brought it to her?
Coffee first. Then answers.
She pulled a large mug out of the cabinet, filled it with the hot brew and added generous amounts of sugar and canned cream. She still drank her coffee the way Mama had fixed it for her as a child.
Finally, she sat at the table and stared at the mysterious package, over the top of which a thin, gold box peeked at her. Cat jumped into her lap, and Lexi absently smoothed the white fur with one hand. With her other, she picked up her mug and downed a too-big gulp of coffee without looking away from the basket, cringing when the hot liquid burned her tongue.
At last, she set her mug on the table and reached for the gift with trembling hands.
3
Three weeks. Three. And I still can’t write.
A mug of strong black coffee in hand, Mitch was fully dressed and kicked back on his front porch when the sun peeked over the horizon. He loved this daily ritual, had built his home facing east with sunrise in mind. Nothing made him feel closer to God than watching a new day dawn.
Before darkness completely loosed its hold, he rose and went inside. After rinsing his mug, he dumped cereal into a bowl and covered it with milk. Leaning against the counter, he downed the semi-breakfast while mulling over his current work in progress.
As a rule, deadlines did not present a problem. Mitch had the capability to focus on each project to the exclusion of everything else. His storylines often seemed more real than the world around him.
But not this time. Not since he’d met Lexi at Rosewood. He’d talked her into getting ice cream with him that day, and they’d had lunch together after both of her visits since then. Mitch found her bright and funny—a complete joy to be around. But he feared he was becoming obsessed. Would he ever get her out of his head so he could write again?
&nbs
p; How could he create believable characters when he seemed capable of describing only Lexi? Male and female, his story folk all sported lustrous hair somewhere between dark auburn and rich, chocolate brown, and every one of them possessed eyes of one green shade or another. Nor could Mitch free his mind of lips that looked so soft his own tingled with the need to touch them. Could they possibly be as delicate as they appeared?
After running water into the empty cereal bowl, he settled in behind his desk and thought about the situation while his laptop went through the process of getting itself ready. He chuckled, embarrassed a bit—never mind that he was alone in his own office. His heroes needed to be tough…masculine…every inch the macho western man. But the cowboys he’d tried to create for this book were downright pretty, despite their cowboy boots, spurs, and Stetson hats.
“You’ve got it bad, all right.” He murmured the words, then sat up straight and huffed out a breath. He’d sounded just like his father.
Not long before he died, Dad had proclaimed, in his forthright, no-holds-barred manner, that his son would not be a bachelor forever, no matter how “confirmed” Mitch considered that state of his existence.
“God’s got a lady for you, son, but you’ll need to handle that heart o’ hers with kid gloves for a while.”
“That so?” Mitch grinned, tried to make light of Dad’s prediction, but uneasiness slithered through his mind. Alzheimer’s might have robbed the older man of a great many memories, but Mitch doubted it could take away a God-given gift. Everyone who knew Harlan Gaynor was aware that he often knew things other people didn’t. Things about folks’ futures, and sometimes their pasts.
Mitch had asked about it once.
“How do you know all those things you tell people, Dad? It’s a little hard to take sometimes.”
His father grinned. “Well, it wouldn’t be if folks learned to just let God handle their lives. What’s gonna be’s gonna be. They can’t do nothin’ about it, so why worry and fret?”
“Still. Dad, how do you know things?”
“Well, I guess God just gave me a little somethin’ extra, that’s all.”
Dad’s “little somethin’ extra” had told him that when Mitch found that elusive lady in his future, her heart would be under lock and key. She’d bear tremendous emotional scarring, and Mitch would need to show her that some men did possess goodness and were capable of unselfish love.
When Mitch rolled his eyes, his father grabbed his hand and gripped it with surprising strength. “You’ll meet her in a familiar place, son. And she lives”—he stopped, closed his eyes and shook his head—”This woman o’ yours will live where angels walk.”
He’d laughed then, but he wasn’t laughing now. How could Dad have known…?
By the time Mitch encountered Lexi there, Rosewood had become every bit as familiar to him as his own home. He’d spent more hours in the care facility than at his own place during those last excruciating months. The staff had graciously allowed him to move a small desk into his father’s room, so he could work and still be nearby.
As for living where angels walk…well, Mitch happened to be on the board at The Falls Tabernacle. The entire panel of members had heard Pastor David Myers share the rumors of angel activity at Heart’s Haven. David even hinted that his eccentric uncle, Andrew Hart, carried on conversations with them.
If any stock could be put into that story, then Lexi probably lived right smack in the middle of an angel encampment.
Dad’s prediction was eerily on target.
Mitch hadn’t thought he even wanted a family, but now, having spent some time with Lexi, the idea held an unexpected appeal. He kept imagining the two of them cozied up in front of his big fireplace or seeing her in his kitchen, wrapped in his over-sized apron. Trying not to see her in his bedroom.
He opened his word processing program, stared at it for fifteen minutes, then sighed and shut it down again.
No point trying to write until he figured out how to deal with and circumvent all those walls around Lexi Carlisle’s heart.
****
“See you next time, Mrs. Brandt.” Lexi smiled at her last customer of the day and gently nudged her toward the door. Her empty stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had skipped lunch. Maybe that’s why her last half ounce of energy had drained out the tips of her toes as she gave Mrs. Brandt’s silver-blue hair one last coat of hairspray—gluing it in place until the older lady’s standing appointment next Friday.
I’m tired. More tired than I should be with the few customers I’ve had today.
She flipped the “open” sign to “closed,” locked the door and lingered for a few minutes, staring through the glass. Busy shoppers hurried along, carrying an assortment of bags and boxes. Several couples passed by, arms linked, eyes only for each other.
Lexi wondered how many of those people strolling Angel Falls’ Main Street tonight had suffered through a failed marriage. How many had survived physical poundings and emotional assaults like those she’d endured?
And yet, they were out there, living…smiling…being normal. Proof positive that there was life after abuse.
One hand rose and fingered a silver pendant that hung on a chain around her neck. She turned away from the door and glanced down at the graceful half-heart she’d found in the basket on her doorstep. Even after the amazing visit from the strange, ultra-lovely woman, she’d still called Pia Peretti to see if the gift was from her. Married to Mr. Hart’s nephew David, Pia was one of Lexi’s favorite customers at Angel Hair. She knew the young designer’s “just because” gifts of specially chosen pieces of her jewelry were tradition in the complex. But no, the gift had not been from Pia.
The pendant she’d found on her porch bore an inscription. What possible meaning could it have for her?
He will give His angels charge over thee.
The words followed the curve of a one-sided heart that bore a distinct resemblance to a wing. She’d heard rumors about angels hanging out at Heart’s Haven, but Lexi refused to think about that kind of thing—at least not in connection with the piece of jewelry she wore. Instead, she wondered about the words inscribed on the back side of the heart.
“…the one who trusts in the Lord. Psalm 32:10”
Part of a scripture. What was missing?
She retrieved her purse and flipped off lights as she headed for the back door, still lost in thought.
She had considered that the basket might have been delivered to the wrong cottage. But the messenger had called Lexi by name, so that theory didn’t work.
From the woman who’d delivered the pendant to the inscriptions it bore…nothing seemed to have any kind of purpose. Trust? Lexi rolled her eyes. She couldn’t trust anyone, including God, Who clearly had forgotten her. She was a washed-up, middle-aged woman who’d failed at the two most important roles in her life: being a wife and being a daughter. And where had God been—He and His angels—while she became an emotionally battered wife?
Angels had charge over her. Trust in the Lord. Yeah, right.
Lexi emitted an indelicate snort as she started her car and pointed its nose toward Heart’s Haven. Her lovely, less-than-talkative visitor might have reached the right cottage, but she’d definitely delivered the wrong gift.
And yet, here it hangs, around my neck.
She had to be honest with herself. Some part of her hoped the simple words etched into the pendant might actually hold a valid promise…for her.
That partial sentence intrigued her. What could it mean? She recognized the scripture references of course. Maybe she’d look them up.
As she parked in her own driveway and prepared to go inside, an uncomfortable wash of hot shame swept her body. Where was her Bible? A long-ago gift from her mother, it hadn’t been opened in years, and she couldn’t remember packing it when she moved.
So much for being a Christian. Just one more item to add to her list of failed endeavors.
4
“More than anyt
hing in the world, I want to tell her how much I love her.” Lexi spoke through stiff lips. Each word scraped her throat with needle-sharp talons.
She barely noticed.
For the first time in her adult life, she’d shared something of vital importance to her with a person other than her mother. There’d been Todd, of course, but her ex-husband had made his lack of interest so obvious that she’d stopped confiding in him even as a newlywed.
Having told Mitch the thing that most haunted her mind and tortured her soul, Lexi’s heart pounded against her chest as if determined to burst free. A huge wave of panic closed her airways and threatened to suffocate her.
How could she have allowed this man into her innermost heart enough to tell him this deepest desire? Hadn’t she been hurt enough by Todd’s cruel indifference? Sometimes she despaired of ever making a right decision.
She fixed her gaze on her mother, who had fallen asleep only moments after Lexi arrived. Oh, Mama…please come back to me. I need you to keep me from doing something foolish, like letting myself fall for this big, sweet man.
“Then why don’t you tell her?” Mitch’s gray gaze captured hers. “You can do that any time.”
A large hand covered hers, eliciting a hurricane of unexpected emotion that threatened to topple all her carefully constructed walls. Lexi forced herself to meet Mitch’s sympathetic gaze even as she pulled her fingers free of his and immediately wished she hadn’t. She resisted an almost overwhelming urge to slide them back where they’d been.
Instead, she crossed her arms, tucking both hands under them for safekeeping. “Yes, but don’t you see? I need her to know who I am…to really hear what I’m saying. I can’t stand the thought that Mama might not know how much she means to me.”
