“Don’t go anywhere. Do you hear me? I’m getting dressed and coming right over. Don’t go anywhere.”
Stephanie looked at the clock. “It’s only 6:30.”
“I don’t care. I’m up and you’re up. What the clock reads doesn’t matter to us.”
She laughed softly. “All right. I’ll put the coffee on. Come to the back door. It’ll be unlocked.”
The moment she hung up the phone, Stephanie tossed aside the bedcovers and hurried to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and run a comb through her hair. She changed into a pair of slacks and a blouse, then went to the kitchen to make the coffee. It was just starting to brew when a soft rap sounded. An instant later, the back door opened.
If there had been any shred of doubt remaining about her decision to marry James, it would have disappeared at the sight of him. Her heart skipped, and she felt as giddy as she had at the age of sixteen when he arrived, clad in tux and cummerbund, to escort her to the junior-senior prom.
Strange, the pathways of life. She had loved James twice—first as a girl, then as an old woman. Yes, the pathways that had brought her back to him were strange…wonderful…unexplainable. No wonder her daughter couldn’t understand what had happened in the past few weeks. Stephanie barely understood it herself.
“You’re beautiful in the morning,” James said.
Beautiful? Perhaps in her youth, but no more. Now her face was wrinkled, her hair was Ivory soap white, and her body was soft in too many of the wrong places. But as James drew near, she realized he meant what he said. She was beautiful in his eyes.
He gathered her in his arms. Arms still strong despite his age. Strong enough to hold her close. “You had me worried for a while. I was afraid I’d lose you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
One day she would share with him the words God had whispered to her. Perhaps on their anniversary as they reminisced about their whirlwind second courtship.
James kissed her softly on the mouth, and when their lips parted, Stephanie sighed with pleasure. Romantic love was not the property of the young, no matter what people believed.
“Tell me something,” he said.
“Of course.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
She smiled as she touched his jaw, running her fingers over his close-trimmed beard. “It’s a tie. Aquamarine and lemon yellow.”
“And your favorite movie?”
“Sound of Music.”
It pleased her that he’d remembered Miranda’s questions. It pleased her that it mattered to him because it mattered to her daughter. It made her believe things would be well between Miranda and James. If not this week or next week, then perhaps next month or the one after that.
James brushed his lips against her forehead. “We’d better call John Gunn this morning and arrange for the church.”
“Yes. I think we’d better. I’m ready to become Mrs. James Scott.” She looked up at him. “The sooner, the better.”
Chapter 13
TWELVE DAYS LATER, THE Thimbleberry Quilting Club hosted a bridal shower for Stephanie in the fellowship hall of Hart’s Crossing Community Church. It was a joyous affair.
Francine and Angie Hunter led the guests in a few silly games that had everyone in stitches. Then they all clapped and teased as Stephanie opened her gifts, including a beautiful aquamarine negligee and robe. Afterward, the guests drank punch and ate cake while Till Hart regaled them with long-ago stories about Stephanie. One thing could be said about Till—there was nothing wrong with her memory!
“Mom!” Miranda exclaimed, looking at her with wide eyes after hearing about the night a bunch of kids from the junior class drove fifty miles to steal their arch rival’s school mascot. “Did you really do that?”
“Well, it wasn’t only me.” Stephanie cast a mock glare in Till’s direction. “There were a dozen of us involved.”
“I can’t believe you’d do such a thing.” Miranda shook her head. “It’s just not like you.”
Interesting, how parents were viewed by their children. Stephanie had no trouble seeing her involvement in that high school episode as being “just like her.” She hadn’t been what anyone would call wild, but she’d pulled her share of teenage pranks that got her in hot water.
Paula, seated on Stephanie’s left side, leaned close and whispered, “No wonder Daddy fell in love with you. You rascal, you.”
Although Paula had been Stephanie and James’s greatest ally from the moment she and her daughters stepped onto the tarmac at the Twin Falls airport, the past week had seen a softening of attitudes with the other three children as well, giving Stephanie hope that one day the two families would become truly united.
Miranda had begun to warm up to James, despite herself. The more time they spent together, the less angry Miranda was and the less she seemed to fear that he wanted to replace her father. It was a good beginning.
Jenna had arrived in Hart’s Crossing, expecting to find a treasure-hunting black widow who had trapped her unsuspecting father in a web. It hadn’t taken long for the young woman to learn that Stephanie was anything but. While still not thrilled that her father had chosen to marry so quickly, neither had she raised more opposition.
As for the pragmatic Kurt, he’d accepted the inevitable with a “If you’re sure, Dad,” and a “Welcome to the family, Stephanie.”
Most importantly, over the past few days, each of their children had let their parents know, in ways both large and small, that they were loved. And love, Stephanie knew, would see all of them through. Love never failed.
How blessed she was, she thought as she looked around the fellowship hall, to be surrounded by family and friends, some who had prayed for her countless times through the years, loved ones who’d lifted her when she had no strength to stand on her own. God had been good to her. He’d given her fifty years with her beloved Chuck. He’d entrusted her with their wonderful daughter. And now he’d brought James back into her life.
Autumn had always been Stephanie’s favorite season of the year—and now she thought it might become the favorite season of her life as well.
Who, besides God, knew what the future held in store?
Storms? Probably.
Love? Most assuredly.
Stephanie couldn’t wait for this new adventure to begin.
Diamond Place
Hart’s Crossing Series #3
Robin Lee Hatcher
Chapter 1
February 2006
LYSSA SAMPSON STARED AT her reflection in the bedroom mirror as she gave the brim of her baseball cap a slight tug. She did her best not to show any emotion. Baseball Digest said that’s how Cardinal pitcher Chris Carpenter did it. The article, found in one of her older issues of the magazine, said concrete budged more easily than Carpenter’s face. It called him “the Lord of Bored.” That’s how Lyssa wanted to look when she stood on the pitcher’s mound.
“Lyssa,” her mom called from downstairs, “Are you getting dressed?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, hurry up. Your breakfast is about ready.”
“Okay. Just a minute.”
Lyssa removed the baseball cap and slipped it into her backpack along with her schoolwork and books. After a moment’s hesitation, she shoved a couple issues of Baseball Digest into the backpack, too. She needed to memorize a few more stats before the next practice. She wanted Coach Jenkins to know she was serious about baseball.
Real serious.
* * *
“Lyssa!” Terri walked to the foot of the stairs and looked up toward her daughter’s bedroom. “Your breakfast is ready now. Hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”
“Comin’, Mom.”
Terri returned to the kitchen, where she scooped fluffy scrambled eggs onto a plate. She heard the telltale sound of her ten-year-old daughter’s imminent arrival—athletic shoes stomping hard on the stairs as Lyssa took them two at a time. Moments later, she entered the kitc
hen, backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Do you have your homework with you?” Terri asked.
“Yeah.”
She lifted an eyebrow and gave her daughter a hard look. “Are you sure? I don’t want to have to leave the salon like I did yesterday to bring your papers to the school.”
“I’ve got it, Mom.” Lyssa dropped her backpack onto the floor before slipping onto a bar stool at the kitchen counter.
Terri turned to the stove, added two strips of bacon and a slice of buttered toast to the plate, and slid it across the counter. Lyssa took her fork and began shoveling eggs into her mouth as if it had been a week since her last meal.
“Slow down, honey.”
Lyssa swallowed and grinned. “You told me I was gonna be late. I’m just doin’ what you said.”
Terri leaned her backside against the edge of the sink. She took enormous pleasure in her daughter. Watching her eat, watching her sleep, watching her play baseball—it all brought pleasure. Of all the blessings in Terri’s life, Lyssa was the greatest.
Without looking up, her daughter said, “Don’t forget you’re gonna bake your special cake for the Cavaliers’ carnival tomorrow night.”
Terri winced. She had forgotten. Not the fund-raiser itself, but that she’d volunteered to bring a cake. Why hadn’t she written it in her day planner when she volunteered? She knew better than to trust things like that to memory. Her schedule and Lyssa’s schedule were jam-packed during the school year. Without her list of “to do’s,” Terri was lost.
She would be the first to admit that it wasn’t easy being a single parent with no other family to lend support. Some days she felt stretched to her absolute limit. Thankfully, she had many friends in Hart’s Crossing and a wonderful church family who pitched in when needed.
She turned toward the recipe box, flipping open the lid with her left hand while reaching for a shopping list and pen with her right.
“Coach Jenkins says I’m pitching really good. Maybe he’ll let me be a starting pitcher at least once this summer. Wouldn’t that be something? First girl to start a game in the major division of the Cavaliers.”
“Yes, it would be something.” Terri had enough flour, but she would need more sugar and eggs. She scribbled on the notepad. “But remember, all the pitchers on your team are a year or two older than you are. You can’t count on starting a game.”
Lyssa laughed. “I’m a whole lot better than Bobby Danvers, and he’s twelve.”
“Pride goes before a fall, young lady.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you still have a lot to learn. Don’t think you know it all.”
“I don’t think that.”
Terri frowned as she stared at the notepad. Oh, yes. She needed two packages of frozen cherries, some unsweetened cocoa, and a carton of whipping cream. She would shop for groceries on the way home from work today and bake the black forest cake first thing in the morning before heading to the salon for her Saturday appointments.
“Mom? Did you hear me?”
Terri turned around. “I’m sorry, honey. What did you say?”
“I’m going now.” Lyssa stood beside the kitchen stool, once again holding her backpack. “See you after school.”
“Not without a kiss, you don’t.” She stepped forward and brushed her lips across her daughter’s forehead. “And put your coat on. It’s cold, and that sweatshirt isn’t enough to keep you warm.”
Lyssa rolled her eyes but obediently headed for the rack beside the back door.
Moments later, alone in the kitchen, Terri completed writing her shopping list, set it on top of her planner, then went upstairs to dress for work. She chose jeans, a rust-colored sweater with three-quarter sleeves, and—the most important item for a person who was on her feet all day—comfortable shoes. With a quick glance in the mirror, she determined a ponytail would have to do. No time for fussing with her hair.
She smiled ruefully at her reflection. Good thing my clients don’t judge my expertise based on how I look.
It was a short drive from her home on the west side of Hart’s Crossing to Terri’s Tangles Beauty Salon, located at the corner of Main and Municipal. The car’s heater didn’t have time to take the chill out of the February air before she pulled her 1991 Toyota Camry into the reserved spot near the back of the shop.
“Brrr.”
She rushed to the entrance, shoved her key in the lock, and pushed open the door. Before she had time to do more than shrug out of her coat, the telephone rang.
She lifted the receiver from the back room’s wall phone. “Good morning. Terri’s Tangles.”
“Hey, Terri. It’s Angie. Got a minute?”
Terri moved toward the coffeemaker, pressing the handset between shoulder and ear. “Sure. My first client isn’t due for about forty-five minutes. What’s up?”
“I wanted to see what you’re doing on May 20th about 2:00 in the afternoon. It’s a Saturday.”
“I don’t have any clients booked out that far.” She filled the carafe with cold water and poured it into the reservoir. “You can pick whatever time you want. Hang on. Let me get my appointment book, and I’ll—”
“I don’t need an appointment for my hair, Terri. I need a maid of honor and a flower girl.”
For an instant, Terri froze in place. Then she squealed. “Are you teasing me, Angie Hunter? Because if you are, so help me, I’ll—”
“I’m not teasing. Last night, Bill asked me to marry him.”
“It’s about time.” Terri couldn’t think of better news. Bill Palmer and Angie Hunter were two of her favorite people, and she thought them perfect for each other. She’d been hoping and praying for this to happen for months and months. “I was wondering when Bill would get off his keister and propose. Sometimes that man is as slow as molasses.”
Angie laughed.
“Did he give you a ring?”
“Yes. He did the whole routine. Candlelight dinner. Soft music playing in the background. He even got down on one knee to propose. When I said yes, he slipped the engagement ring on my finger. It was very romantic.”
Terri sighed. “I’m sure it was. Bill’s a romantic kind of guy.”
“Mmm.”
“Can you swing by the salon today? I’d love to see the ring and give you a hug. I’ll be here until 3:00.”
“Sure, I’ll drop by. And you and Lyssa will be my maid of honor and flower girl, won’t you?”
“Of course. As long as you don’t make us wear something too atrocious or froufrou.”
The two of them laughed in unison before exchanging a few words of farewell. Moments later, Terri hung up the phone and returned to the coffeemaker.
Angie, Bill, and a May wedding, how delightful. She wondered if they planned to be married in the church or outdoors. May weather could be iffy, but the gazebo in the park was a wonderful location for a wedding.
Terri and her ex-husband Vic had been married by a justice of the peace in Twin Falls. Neither of them had any family in Hart’s Crossing, Terri’s parents were deceased and Vic’s family all lived back East. He hadn’t wanted to wait to plan a more formal wedding. At the time, Terri had thought it romantic that he was in such a hurry to become her husband, but she should have wondered instead about his impatient nature. His spur-of-the-moment decisions had caused her much grief.
More than seven years had passed since Vic Sampson left town with that blonde he met at the ski resort—not the first woman he’d flirted with during his marriage to Terri, but the only one who’d convinced him to leave his wife and get a divorce.
Terri’s love for her ex-husband had long since died, but time couldn’t completely heal the wounds of a failed marriage. She’d never planned to be a divorced mom. She’d never wanted her daughter to grow up without a father. But that’s what happened anyway.
Terri gave her head a quick shake. Let sleeping dogs lie. That’s water under the bridge. No crying over spilt milk. Pick a cliché. They were all true. D
welling on the past couldn’t change it.
Once, Angie had asked her if she was interested in marrying again. Terri had answered, “I hope I can find the right guy, the one God means for me to marry. One day I hope Prince Charming will ride into town and sweep me off my feet.”
So far Terri had seen neither hide nor hair of a tall, dark, and handsome prince and his white horse galloping down Main Street.
* * *
“Hey, Coach Jenkins.” Lyssa smiled at her Little League coach, who was standing in the hall outside the school office. “Whatcha doin’ here?”
“Morning, Lyssa.” He nudged his glasses with the knuckle of his right index finger, and then winked at her. “I’ve been called to the principal’s office.”
Lyssa liked the coach, but sometimes he was kinda weird. Even she knew the principal couldn’t call just anybody to her office, not somebody who didn’t have kids in the school, anyway. The coach didn’t have kids or a wife.
“Are you ready for the carnival tomorrow night?” he asked. “We’ve got lots of money to raise for the Cavaliers.”
“Uh-huh. I’m ready.” She tried to stand a little taller, appear a little older, maybe not look so much like a girl and more like a pitcher. “My mom’s gonna make her special chocolate cake for the cakewalk. It’s really good.”
“Terrific. I love chocolate cake. Maybe I’ll win it.”
The bell rang, announcing time for students to get to their classrooms.
“I better go, Coach. See you tomorrow night.”
“See you there. And tell your mom I’m looking forward to trying out that cake of hers.”
“Okay.”
Lyssa suppressed a sigh as she walked away. What was she doing, talking about cake when what she wanted was to make the coach realize she was as good a pitcher as any of the boys on the team? Maybe she was only ten, and maybe they’d never had a girl pitcher before, but she oughta get a chance.
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