Home to Hart's Crossing (4-in-1 Edition)

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  She pulled the pillow from behind her head and placed it over her face.

  Hadn’t she enough to worry about? She had a building in disrepair, a home to run, a living to earn, a daughter to raise. Why complicate her life with a man? She should remember that marriage wasn’t always happy and romantic. Even when two people loved each other, there was stress and strain involved. And if Lyssa didn’t want her to date Mel, that was enough reason to keep her distance.

  Wasn’t it?

  * * *

  So what am I going to do?

  Mel stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his razor held close to his lathered jaw.

  He should have called Terri again last night, like he’d said he would in his message. Why hadn’t he?

  Because he was a coward, and he was afraid he would find out Lyssa had told the truth. Because he cared for Terri Sampson more than he should after only one date. Because he didn’t want to discover that she didn’t feel the same about him.

  Worry about nothing. Pray about everything. That’s the advice he would give someone else in his shoes. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to practice some of it himself.

  * * *

  “Terri,” Till Hart called from a corner of the narthex as church members exited the sanctuary.

  Terri waved to acknowledge she’d heard her, then made her way through the crowd of folks. “How are you, Miss Hart?”

  “Fine and dandy, thanks. Do you have time to do something with me?”

  When Terri got home, she would probably start mulling over the same thoughts she’d had during the night. Any distraction from that would be welcome. “Of course, Miss Hart. What do you need?”

  “It’s about your hair business.”

  “My salon?”

  “Mr. Palmer tells me it will take some time before you’re able to get back into your building.”

  “I’m afraid that’s true.”

  “Well, I have found a place for you. My friend has a basement room that is perfect, and she’s agreed to let you use it.”

  “Oh, Miss Hart. That’s very kind. But the state of Idaho has very strict laws regarding square footage and separate entrances and—”

  Till waved a hand in dismissal. “Yes, yes. I’ve been told all that, and that’s just what I’ve found for you. Could you drive me over to Willow Lane so I can show you? I promise not to keep you from your Sunday dinner more than an hour.”

  Terri saw no polite way out of it. “Of course. I’ll be glad to drive you anywhere you wish.”

  * * *

  Home from church, Mel sat at his kitchen table, staring at the portable phone, debating whether or not to call Terri.

  He hadn’t heard much of Reverend Ball’s sermon, although it probably was a fine one. The minister might be retirement age, but he still knew how to deliver a powerful message. However, Mel’s thoughts had been focused on a woman and her daughter who lived in a small, two-story house, not on the good reverend’s words.

  Should I call her or not? Are we meant to be together? Or have I made a major blunder?

  * * *

  Terri couldn’t believe her eyes. The well-lit basement had a stylist chair, a shampoo bowl, two large mirrors, shelves for supplies, even an outside entrance with a ramp for wheelchair access. The style of the furnishings was straight out of the 1960’s, but everything looked in pristine condition except for a layer of dust.

  “Why didn’t I know you were a cosmetologist, Mrs. Osborn?”

  Elizabeth Osborn, a woman in her late seventies with an impeccably coifed head of snow white hair, laughed softly. “It’s been almost twenty years since I closed my salon, dear girl. There’s no reason you should have known.”

  “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind me using it?”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t mind. I’d be delighted. Think of the people who’ll come to see you for an appointment and then they might stop upstairs to say hello to me, too. I don’t get around as well as I used to. My bad hip, you know. I miss the company.” She patted her hair. “Besides, I’d hate to see your clients go to Mary Lou Hitchens out on the highway. That woman couldn’t find her way around a perm rod to save her soul.”

  Terri subdued a laugh before asking the inevitable. “About the rent?”

  “Oh, goodness gracious. I don’t need a thing.”

  “I insist, Mrs. Osborn. I’d be using your power and heat and water. I must pay something. I could be here for a month.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I know a woman who leases a station down in Twin Falls. I’ll ask what she pays for rent in that salon she’s in, then we’ll come up with something reasonable for this location and the service provided. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds more than fair.” Terri grinned as some of her money worries slid off her shoulders.

  And if God could take care of the detail of finding her a place to work while Terri’s Tangles was restored, surely he would take care of other things in her future as well, such as her feelings about Mel Jenkins.

  * * *

  Mel got Terri’s answering machine again. It made him wonder if she was screening her calls in order to avoid him. Frustrated, he hung up without leaving a message.

  Chapter 10

  “THAT’S IT!” ANGIE EXCLAIMED. “That’s the one.”

  Terri stood in the oversized dressing room at Baskins Formal and Bridal in Twin Falls, looking into the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The tea length matte satin dress was a shade of mossy green that the sales clerk had called celadon. It had off-the-shoulder sleeves and a modest neckline. The cut was simple, the style classic.

  “That’s a dress you could wear out. It doesn’t look like a bridesmaid dress that you wear once and hang in your closet. You know what I mean?”

  “I know what you mean. But I don’t know where I’d wear it. Too dressy for church.”

  Angie tilted her head slightly to one side, meeting Terri’s gaze in the mirror. “I meant on a date, silly.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What’s up?” Angie stood and stepped to Terri’s side. “Something’s bothering you.”

  Terri listened to Lyssa’s muffled chattering with Angie’s mom in another dressing room. Francine Hunter had graciously taken Lyssa and about a dozen different dresses into that room a short while before.

  “Can’t you tell me?” Angie asked.

  “It’s Mel… and Lyssa.” And me.

  “So I was right about Saturday? Lyssa had a falling out with him.”

  “Not exactly. Well, not that I know of, anyway.”

  Once Terri got started, the words tumbled out in a rush. She told Angie how much she’d enjoyed her date with Mel, how she hadn’t expected to like him so much, how disappointed she’d been when Lyssa said she didn’t want Terri to have Mel as a boyfriend, how awful it made her feel that he hadn’t called again. By the time she finished, she was holding a tissue to her nose and hoping she wouldn’t stain the bridesmaid dress with her tears.

  Angie was silent as she helped Terri out of the satin gown and returned it to its padded hanger. It wasn’t until the two were seated side by side on the bench in the dressing room, Terri wrapped in a soft robe provided by the dress shop, that Angie said, “If you like him so much, is it a good thing to allow your ten year old daughter to determine your future? Shouldn’t that be something you let God decide?”

  The question brought her up short.

  Angie took hold of one of Terri’s hands. “Have you had a heart to heart with Lyssa to find out what happened?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time you did?”

  Terri sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “Yes. I think it is.”

  * * *

  Mel was seated on the sofa, watching the evening news on television, when a voice in his head said, What are you waiting for? Get over there and talk to her.

  This time, he didn’t second guess himself. He got up, put on his coat, and headed for the garage, truck keys in hand.

  * * *


  Terri and Lyssa had been home from Twin Falls about an hour when Terri tapped on Lyssa’s bedroom door, waited a moment, then cracked it open. “Sweetheart?”

  Her daughter sat cross-legged on her bed, headphones plugging her ears and CD player in hand. Even from the doorway, Terri could hear the music pounding away.

  Raising her voice, she asked, “May I come in?”

  Startled, Lyssa looked up. After a moment’s hesitation, she pressed the stop button on the CD player and removed the headphones.

  “Lyssa, we need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “About Mr. Jenkins.”

  Tears pooled in her daughter’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “Sorry for what?” Terri moved to the bed and sat down beside Lyssa.

  “I didn’t mean to lie to you or Mr. Jenkins. It just sorta happened. I thought if the coach liked your cake, then maybe he’d notice me more and not just think of me as a girl, and he’d give me a chance to start a game.” Tears rolled down Lyssa’s cheeks as the words tumbled from her lips with ever-increasing speed. “Then when he liked you, I kinda thought that was even better ’cause I like him, too, but then you were unhappy and didn’t want to go out with him, and I knew it was all my fault ’cause I lied. I don’t know what the number was on that piece of paper at the cakewalk. I just said it was his so he’d get the cake, and then I told another lie so he wouldn’t ask you out again. I never meant to lie, but I did. I’m so sorry, Mom.”

  “I know. I know.” Terri took hold of Lyssa’s hand. “But honey, what made you think I didn’t want to go out with Mr. Jenkins?”

  Tears glittered in her daughter’s eyes. “I heard you tell Angie you didn’t want to go out with him.”

  Terri tried to remember when she’d said any such thing.

  “You looked so sad, Mom, and it was all my fault.” Lyssa released a tiny sob.

  Understanding began to dawn.

  “Shh.” She drew her daughter into her arms. “Sweetheart, whatever it was you did or said, I love you. Nothing will change that. We’ll sort this out, the two of us. Okay?”

  Lyssa sniffed and uttered a muffled, “Okay.”

  Smiling as she held Lyssa close, Terri felt a glimmer of hope in her heart.

  * * *

  Mel forced himself to observe the speed limit as he followed the tree-lined streets. When he arrived at the Sampson home, he stopped his truck next to the curb and killed the engine, then took a deep breath.

  “Father, give me the right words to say when I see her,” he whispered. “I can’t do this without you.”

  He got out of the truck, rounded the cab, and came to a halt on the sidewalk. Staring at the front of the house, he folded his arms over his chest and took another deep breath. Maybe he should have rehearsed what he meant to say before he came over.

  Help me, Lord.

  After another steadying breath, he strode up the walk and rang the doorbell. It seemed forever before the door opened.

  Surprise—and an emotion Mel couldn’t define—flickered in Terri’s eyes. “Mel,” she said softly.

  “Terri. Listen, I’m sorry for not calling again.”

  She acknowledged his apology with a nod.

  “I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.” He pushed away the doubt as he cleared his throat. “I…uh…I’m not quite sure how to say this.”

  She seemed willing to wait for him to figure it out.

  “Terri, I like you. A lot. I enjoyed being with you Friday night. I was hoping…well, I hoped we might see more of each other. I felt something with you that I haven’t felt in a long while. But Lyssa said you—”

  “Mel, she was wrong.”

  His heart thrummed with sudden hope. “She was?”

  “Yes.” A slight smile curved the corners of her mouth. “I’d like to spend time with you, too.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the stairs, then back at him. “Won’t you come in and sit down? I have a story to tell you about a girl, a chocolate cake, and Little League baseball.”

  Faith, the Bible said, was being sure of what he hoped for and certain of what he didn’t see. As Mel looked into Terri’s eyes, his heart told him that he needed to have some of that faith now—and let God work.

  Epilogue

  LYSSA WRINKLED HER NOSE as Bill Palmer fed his bride a piece of wedding cake, then kissed her with the frosting still on her lips.

  But it wasn’t the kiss that bothered Lyssa. It was this silly dress she wore. The lace around her neck was scratchy, and the satin fabric felt funny against her skin, all clingy and slick. Besides, it made her look like a dork.

  While the photographer snapped more pictures of the bride and groom, Lyssa turned away, her gaze scanning the church’s fellowship hall. The place was packed with people, standing and sitting everywhere. It seemed like the whole town had turned out to see Angie Hunter and Bill Palmer get married.

  Lyssa thought weddings were okay, but baseball was a whole lot better. Good thing this wedding fell on one of the Cavaliers’ free game days or she would have been really upset. Especially since her team was on a major winning streak.

  Through the crowd of wedding guests, Lyssa saw her mom. Mom didn’t look like a dork in her satin dress. She looked like a princess. Her whole face sparkled with happiness.

  And the coach, who stood close to her mom, talking and smiling, looked pretty good in his fancy suit, too. Almost like the Prince Charming her mom said she used to hope and pray for.

  Sometimes, grownups were weird.

  Sweet Dreams Drive

  Hart’s Crossing Series #4

  Robin Lee Hatcher

  Prologue

  August 2002

  THE SANCTUARY OF THE Hart’s Crossing Community Church was draped with blue satin and white netting. Candles flickered in candelabras. Soft music from the organ drifted to the rafters as guests were ushered down the aisle.

  As a friend of the bride, Patti Sinclair sat on the left side of the church, although in a town this size, it didn’t matter. Everybody pretty much knew everybody. Patti hadn’t lived in Hart’s Crossing in seven years, but she had no trouble picking out familiar faces among the guests.

  Close to the front sat Till Hart, the unofficial grandmother of the town. Hart’s Crossing was named for one of her ancestors. Miss Hart had the sweetest smile and kindest eyes of anyone Patti knew.

  Next to Till sat Francine Hunter, Chuck and Steph Watson, and Ethel Jacobsen. The four women were all part of a group of quilters. What did they call themselves? The Huckleberries? No, that wasn’t it. She smiled as the name came to her. The Thimbleberries. The Thimbleberry Quilting Club.

  Amazing that she could remember it all these years later.

  One row behind the quilters were Nancy and Harry Raney. Who could forget the owners of the Over the Rainbow Diner? That was the place to hang out when she was a teenager. The only place.

  She saw Police Chief Coble a couple rows further back. Who was that blonde beside him? Could that be his daughter? The last time Patti saw her, Cassandra had been a gawky kid in middle school. No more.

  The music changed. Patti looked over her shoulder to see the mother of the bride being escorted down the aisle. Patti’s gaze shifted to the usher. The church went silent, and the world shifted on its axis.

  The ceremony was half over before Patti fully recovered.

  * * *

  The wedding reception was held outdoors at Hart’s Crossing’s golf course. Patti congratulated the bride—Olivia, her best friend in elementary school—and the groom before moving to the refreshment table, where she was handed a cup of punch.

  “Patti Sinclair. Is that you?”

  She turned to see another familiar face.

  “I’m Eric Bedford. Remember me?”

  “Of course. You played the drums in the middle school band one year. That was the year Toby Kasner broke your nose with a drumstick.”

  “Ouch.” He touched the bridge of his nose. “I’d alm
ost forgotten.”

  “I’ll never forget. Blood gushed everywhere. It was like a war zone.”

  He laughed, then asked, “So where are you living now?”

  “Nampa. How about you?”

  “Right here. The old Bedford roots go pretty deep. Dad’s still farming. My brother got his degree and is teaching school here.” His eyebrows raised. “Speak of the devil. Hey, Al. Come over here.”

  Patti turned her head, ready to greet Eric’s brother, and the earth tilted for the second time that day. That golden hair. Those green eyes. That crooked smile. Those broad shoulders.

  “Al, this is Patti Sinclair. She used to live in Hart’s Crossing. Did you two ever meet?”

  “Not sure. Maybe.” Al held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Patti.”

  If they’d met before, Patti would remember. Either that or Al Bedford had changed a lot in the past seven years.

  Eric said, “She’s living in Nampa.”

  “Do you like it there?”

  She nodded, tongue-tied and breathless.

  “Care to sit down?” Al asked.

  “That would be nice.” Hopefully she could walk on her rubbery legs.

  She didn’t know what happened to Eric. By the time she and Al reached one of the white plastic tables placed under a large canopy, Al’s younger brother was no longer around. Just as well, since the table Al chose had only two chairs. He held one for her.

  So he was a gentleman as well as handsome. When was the last time she’d stumbled upon that combination?

  “What do you do in Nampa?” Al sat in the other chair.

  “I’m an editor at a small publishing house. I was hired part time while in college, and they offered me a full-time position after I graduated.”

  “Do you enjoy the work?”

  “Yes.” The way he watched her made her insides go all aflutter. She lowered her gaze to her hands. “Eric says you’re a teacher. What subject?”