Love Inspired June 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Single Dad CowboyThe Bachelor Meets His MatchUnexpected Reunion

by Brenda Minton

  “Maybe someone should. At least he could have the future he’s always wanted.”

  With Josie’s words ringing in her ears, Agnes fixed a smile in place and reached for the salad. She walked into the side dining room and set the bowl of mixed greens on the buffet table. Hannah, bless her heart, brought in pitchers of lemonade. Josie followed with a platter of chicken salad croissants and a glass pedestal bowl of cut fresh fruit.

  Nancy, the hostess of the luncheon, arrived. While Josie spoke to her about the food, Agnes retreated to the kitchen.

  Hannah poked her head inside the kitchen door. “Mr. Higby’s looking for you.”

  “Clarence? My landlord?”

  She nodded, then held the door open wide enough for Agnes to see the burly man drumming his fingers on the counter by the register.

  Agnes followed Hannah into the main dining room. “Hey, Clarence.”

  Clarence Higby ran a finger between the collar of his flannel shirt and his doughy neck. He gripped a white envelope in his other hand. “Agnes, do you have a moment?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  Clarence always reminded her of Papa Bear from Goldilocks—brawny with whiskered jowls...and the red suspenders he wore with his cuffed jeans.

  “I planned to come by later this afternoon, but when Eliza mentioned her ladies’ thing was here, I wanted you to hear this from me and not overheard from a bunch of hens.”

  Agnes didn’t like the direction this conversation was going.

  He thrust the envelope at her.

  She took it, noticed her name scrawled on the front, then looked at him. “What’s this?”

  “The letter says it so much better. Eliza typed it. She’s the one who’s good with words.” He heaved a sigh, then scraped his sausage fingers through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “Eliza and me...well, we’ve decided to move to Arizona.”

  “Arizona? You’ve lived in Shelby Lake your entire life.”

  “Our daughter Jocelyn is pregnant.” Clarence beamed like a proud grandpa-to-be. “After she lost the first two, she and Aaron wanted to wait until she was out of the danger zone to announce this pregnancy.”

  She forced her lips into a smile, hoping to project joy she didn’t feel. “Well, that’s fantastic. When’s the baby due?”

  “November—around Thanksgiving.”

  “Truly something to be thankful for.”

  “Eliza and I don’t want our grandchild to grow up without seeing us but a few times a year, so we’ve decided to move to Arizona before the baby’s born. The air is better for Eliza’s arthritis, too. You know how these damp seasons make her ache so.”

  “But...”

  Of course she understood they wanted to be with their family, but what about her apartment?

  As if reading her thoughts, Clarence laid a beefy hand on her shoulder. “We sold the building. Yesterday. That’s what I wanted you to hear from me.”

  His news pushed her stomach into a free fall to her toes. “I didn’t even know it was for sale. How long do I have to look for a new place?”

  “Thirty days.”

  Air whooshed out of her lungs as if someone had stepped on her ribs. She slumped against the counter, crushing the envelope in her fist.

  Thirty days?

  Where was she going to find an affordable place in such a short time?

  He mentioned selling her apartment building, but what about their cottage?

  “Are you planning to rent out your cottage?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. We’re listing it with Seaver Realty on Monday.”

  She loved the lakefront peach-colored cottage with its white trim and wide front porch. Flower beds skirted the perimeter of the house, and a large backyard meant for barbecues and kickball games overlooked the lake. A white picket fence hemmed it all in.

  The kind of place she always dreamed about, complete with rocking chairs on the front porch so she could grow old with someone who found her worth loving.

  An image of Ian with silver hair flashed through her mind.

  Refusing to give up on owning a place to call home, Agnes continued to put away money. Someday the right house would be available. For now, she’d keep saving her pennies. Unless...

  No, that was crazy thinking.

  She could barely make her rent each month, thanks to paying off her ex’s gambling debts. The cottage was going to be way out of her price range.

  But Ian’s request to help with Agape House came to mind.

  If she could push to sell her restored furniture, then maybe, just maybe, she could manage a down payment and get a loan for the mortgage.

  Heart hammering against her ribs, she turned to her landlord and blurted, “Clarence, would you and Eliza consider selling the cottage to me?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his whiskers. “Now, there’s an idea. You’ve been a great tenant. Let me talk it over with her this afternoon. I’ll give you a call this evening.”

  “Sure, that’s fine. I won’t be home for a bit anyway.”

  After Clarence left, Agnes checked on the ladies, then hurried to the kitchen. Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she stared at the screen saver of her and Ian as teenagers, grinning as they hoisted the Golden Paddle Award in the air.

  Good times.

  They made a great team. In more ways than one.

  Could she do this? Could her heart handle the risk?

  No going back if she said yes.

  If she wanted to put the past behind her to face a new future, she had to take the first step. And if she wanted to buy the cottage, she needed the extra income to help with the down payment.

  Her thumb hovered over the two on her speed dial. She pressed it and held her breath until Ian’s deep voice answered. She released her breath. “Hey, it’s me. I’ll do it.”

  No going back now.

  Now she needed to find the courage to put the past to rest.

  Copyright © 2014 by Lisa Jordan

  ISBN-13: 9781460333778

  The Bachelor Meets His Match

  Copyright © 2014 by Deborah Rather

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com

  A Soldier’s Return

  For four years, Ruthie Chandler avoided the man who broke their engagement—and her heart. But when her antiques shop mistakenly sells his ailing grandmother’s doll, she comes face-to-face with the man she never forgot. Teaming up with Gray Bristow on this important mission won’t be easy, but Ruthie suspects it’s exactly what the disillusioned veteran needs. The doll is the key to Gray’s family’s past—and possibly his future. And it may be what finally brings the ex-soldier home to faith…and to Ruthie.

  Southern Blessings: Three friends find hope and
love in Virginia

  He owed her an explanation.

  He needed to justify—to her as well as to himself—what he had done.

  She reached for his hand, then seemed to think better of it. “Tell me, Gray.”

  Her tone was kind. Soft. Caring. Infinitely patient.

  She tugged her sleeves down to cover her hands.

  “Go inside,” he said just as gently. “You’re cold.”

  He had heard that when people got frostbite, the thawing hurt more than the actual freezing. All the more reason to stay frozen where he was. If it hurt this bad now, what might his heart feel like if he let the warmth back in?

  “I’d rather stay out here with you.”

  He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He resisted the temptation to leave his arms around her, but it was as if that brief contact had pried open a long-shut door to something inside him that he felt shouldn’t be examined.

  Because if he did, he’d start questioning whether he’d done the right thing four years ago.

  Books by Carolyn Greene

  Love Inspired

  *Unexpected Reunion

  *Southern Blessings

  UNEXPECTED REUNION

  Carolyn Greene

  We went through fire and water,

  but you brought us to a place of abundance.

  —Psalms 66:12

  Why have I found such favor in your eyes…?

  —Ruth 2:10

  This book is dedicated to the memory of

  my dear friend and fellow author Charlotte Lobb (a.k.a. Charlotte Carter), who loved, challenged, and treasured all those who were fortunate enough to know her, whether in person or through her stories.

  Acknowledgments

  To Day Leclaire, with gratitude and affection,

  for 23 years of friendship, brainstorming,

  learning, and laughter.

  And much appreciation to Yuko Kimura-Koenig

  for checking my use of Japanese words.

  Any mistakes are all mine.

  And thanks to my editor, Melissa Endlich,

  for loving my idea for the Southern Blessings series and welcoming me into the Love Inspired fold.

  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

  Dear Reader

  Questions for Discussion

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  It wouldn’t have been so hard to go through boxes of the elderly Bristows’ belongings if they hadn’t included the Japanese kissing dolls that used to sit on top of the piano where their grandson Gray Bristow had taught her to plunk out “Chopsticks.”

  Ruthie Chandler touched the small porcelain faces together so the two pairs of puckered lips met once again. The boy doll’s premolded hair still showed evidence of having been darkened with a black marker to look like Gray. The girl doll’s locks carried the remnants of a red marker and her face sported brown hand-drawn freckles like Ruthie’s. Some gentle cleaning should easily remove the marks—if not the memories—from the smooth white finish. She expected the charming, nostalgic set to sell quickly and move on to a new home where it would foster new memories.

  Ruthie set the pieces aside and wished it was as easy to set aside the bittersweet memories they stirred in her.

  In the adjoining shop, Savannah must have noticed something on her face or in her demeanor. The pretty blonde moved past the wedding dress on display and joined her, where she peered over her shoulder at the pair of dolls in her hand. She didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t need to.

  Her friend had been with her at Wednesday night Bible study the evening she’d received the Dear Jane letter from Gray four years ago, so Savannah must have recognized the shell-shocked expression that apparently had crept back onto her face. Ruthie mindlessly rubbed her thumb against her left ring finger where the white-gold engagement ring used to sit. Back then her world had been filled with hope for a future with the man who’d been the Boaz to her Ruth.

  A sentimental romantic, Ruthie had loved the part of scripture where the biblical Ruth asked the kindly Boaz, “Why have I found such favor in your eyes...?” and the happy ending where the couple blessed her mother-in-law, Naomi, with a grandson named Obed. She had imagined the baby she and Gray might have someday—a child with her then-fiancé’s dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, which hinted at his grandmother Naoko’s Japanese heritage. A child he would protect. A child she would teach to savor the memories of its growing-up years. A child they would raise in the church and who would love God.

  Unfortunately, her then-fiancé’s emails from Afghanistan had become short and to the point...which she had told herself was for reasons of military security. But that hadn’t explained their platonic tone. The messages she’d received during the three months prior to the breakup could have been written to his sister. Something had happened just before that Thanksgiving...something Gray had alluded to but couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell her.

  Savannah had offered to make her wedding dress, one she claimed would be as beautiful as the bride. It would have been beautiful, no doubt. But it hadn’t come to pass.

  Her friend’s compliment had made her blush at the time. Not by a long stretch would she call herself beautiful. Not with her fine red hair, freckles and lanky figure. Back then, she had begun to wonder, however, if Gray had become disenchanted with the image in the photo she’d sent him. Now she just tried not to think about it.

  “The Bristows must have been busy with their spring cleaning,” Savannah said, and gestured toward the stack of boxes. “You’ll have plenty of nice things to sell at the sidewalk sale. Hopefully, the weather will be warmer than today.” The pretty blonde’s limp always seemed worse during cool weather.

  This portion of the historic Carytown district in Richmond, Virginia, was often referred to as the “Mile of Style.” Tucked away in the 1930s-era Cary Court Park & Shop, like a quiet cove in a bustling harbor, a cluster of tiny businesses gathered under the name Abundance. Inside, three stores—Ruthie’s Gleanings, Savannah’s Connecting Threads and Milk & Honey, a café run by Paisley, another former college roommate—shared the same roof and exterior walls and were separated only by decorative waist-high room dividers that encouraged browsers to wander from one shop to the next. Although business was slow this Tuesday afternoon in late April, the upcoming annual sidewalk sale would draw shoppers from all over Virginia with its upscale trendy and vintage offerings.

  Ruthie shook away the nostalgic cobwebs that clung to the corners of her heart and turned her attention back to the Bristows. “Ever since Pop brought Sobo home and put her in the hospital bed in their spare room, she’s been directing him on clearing out the clutter in there. I wish she would just rest and focus on healing.”

  After Ruthie’s mother had died suddenly in a work-related accident eleven years ago and she’d had no place to go, Naoko Bristow had taken her in and gained legal guardianship for her final two years of high school. But they hadn’t stopped there. Though she’d known them only from church, they had treated her as if she were their own flesh-and-blood granddaughter, insisting she call them by their grandparent names: Sobo, the Japanese word for grandmother, and Pop, a Southern endearment for grandfather. The elderly pair had even sent her off to college and set her up in their Fan District rental house with two roommates. An added bonus to gaining these adoring grandparents had been meeting and falling in love with their grandson.

  The couple had been there wi
th her at church the night she’d learned Gray didn’t want her anymore. They had handed her the letter, in fact. And on hearing the message inside the Afghanistan-postmarked envelope, they’d grieved right along with her...grieved as much for his broken faith as for the broken engagement.

  “Right,” Savannah said. “Tell that to the tiny dynamo who forgot she’s in her seventies and climbed a trellis to prune roses.”

  If it weren’t for the broken hip that had resulted from the fall, Ruthie would have applauded Naoko’s youthful energy. Instead, the incident served as a reminder that time eventually catches up to even the most active of people.

  “The doctor said her body also thinks it’s younger than it is, so her recovery time should be quick.”

  “Thank God for that.” Savannah picked up the girl doll, stared at the red hair and freckles and gazed back at Ruthie. “You’re going to keep these, aren’t you?”

  “And torture myself? I don’t think so.” Every time she saw them, she would no doubt remember Gray’s large, warm hands covering hers while he guided her fingers over the piano keyboard. Remember the way he had peeked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching...but she was always watching, and they’d both shyly look away. She’d remember the way her heart went rat-a-tat-tat at his nearness on the mahogany bench. Between sneaking glances at Gray, her gaze had often drifted to the tiny porcelain dolls he had jokingly—or not so jokingly—customized to look like them, and which had prompted the human counterparts to steal kisses when Pop and Sobo weren’t looking.

  Outside, a sudden movement broke her reverie. A dark silver-gray sedan that looked like the civilian version of a police car spun into the lot and double-parked in front of Abundance. The car door swung open, and a black-haired man emerged from the driver’s side.

  Savannah’s eyes widened in surprise. “Speaking of torture, it looks like you have a visitor. Gray Bristow, if I’m not mistaken.” She sidled closer to Ruthie as if to shield her. He would never hurt her physically, but Savannah had been with her at the Wednesday night Bible study when Ruthie received his letter and knew the heartbreak he had caused her. “Do you want me to stay?”