by Mary Manners
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Other Titles by Mary Manners
Praise for Mary Manners
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
Epilogue
thank you
Miracles and Dreams
Mary Manners
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are 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.
Miracles and Dreams
COPYRIGHT 2012 by Mary Manners
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
Contact Information: [email protected]
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Cover Art by Nicola Martinez
White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC
www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410
White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC
Publishing History
First White Rose Edition, 2013
Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-250-9
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To June Keebler Stahlke...gone but not forgotten.
Other Titles by Mary Manners
Mended Heart
Tender Mercies
Light the Fire
Buried Treasures
Wisdom Tree
Sweet Treats Bakery Series
Kate's Kisses
Grace's Gold
Tessa's Teacakes
Mattie's Meltaways
Lone Creek Ranch Series
Lost in Lone Creek
Lullaby in Lone Creek
Lesson in Lone Creek
Love in Lone Creek
Mills Landing Series
Miracles and Mischief
Stolen Miracles
Dollar Downloads
Brenna's Choice
Starfire
Wounded Faith
Angel Song
Praise for Mary Manners
Mary Manners is one of those authors...I know that I will always love and enjoy any of her books. ~ Paula Phillips on Wounded Faith
Between the beautiful view she paints with her opening words and the emotional turmoil in the hero's heart, Ms. Manners drew me into this story from the start. ~ Donna Basinow on Lesson in Lone Creek
Manners spins a tale of second chances, tender love, and family relationships that touch the soul.
~ Marianne Evans on Kate's Kisses
Faith and love can get you through anything. That is the message that is woven throughout Mended Heart. An engaging couple and vibrant supporting cast are the star players in this tale of two people finding peace...and each other. ~ The Romance Reviews on Mended Heart
This book is “unputdownable” as it's believable and loveable characters leap from the pages. Ms. Manners conveys a rich depth of emotion on each page, going from laughter to tears to heart stopping moments almost effortlessly. ~ Clare Revell on Buried Treasures
Put your hope in the Lord. For with the Lord is unfailing love and with Him is full redemption.
~ Psalm 130:7
1
The grinding whirr of landscaping trucks filled with rich, black mulch was a heartbeat to Jack Seaton’s soul. Loose soil, rich and musky with the scent of recent rain, made his blood rush with adrenaline. Nothing compared with the awakening that coursed through his veins as he watched the expanse of earth transform from bare to beautiful. Under his attentive eye and careful planning, where rocks once scattered there now breathed a community of upscale townhomes with a majestic mountain backdrop.
As trucks dumped mulch at the elaborate river-rock entrance sign, complete with working waterfall and a parade of crimson knock-out roses, Jack knew that nothing in life had ever—or would ever—trump the soaring feeling that overtook him.
Except for what he’d once experienced with Misty Larson. That had been an adrenaline rush/two-step swathed beneath the glow of a few months’ worth of full moons. But that dance, and the emotions that accompanied it, had ended more than half-a-decade ago—a lifetime ago—and were better left in the past. Jack had tucked away the memories along with the scent of Misty’s peaches and vanilla perfume and the melody of her laughter. She’d hurt him to the core…betrayed him in the worst possible way, and he couldn’t possibly forgive her—not ever.
“Hey, boss.” Mike, the stout senior foreman, loped over carrying an armload of letters. “I got mail call here, and today it’s a doozie.”
“That’s a load.” Jack grimaced at the mountain of bundled paper. So much for indulging in an early knock-off that afternoon. “It will probably take me hours to sort through.” He sighed and scratched the stubble that smattered his chin. No point in shaving to come to the job site. He’d spend the day on the phone or buried beneath a landslide of paperwork. “Toss it all on my desk. I’ll get to it later, when the landscapers are finished at the entrance.”
“This letter arrived special delivery. I had to sign for it.” Mike handed Jack a crisp manila envelope, the address personally hand lettered. It was a bit bulky, with the outline of a second envelope—or perhaps a square of cardboard—tucked inside. “It’s different from the rest—smells a bit odd, like a hint of sweet perfume. You got something going on, boss?”
“Nope.” The question, coming from anyone but Mike, would have offended Jack. But, after five-plus years working together, the two had forged a friendship that went beyond the jobsite. Mike was a stand-up guy whom Jack knew he could count on in any situation. “Nothing but a date with my pillow.”
“If you say so.” Mike shrugged and slapped the letter against his thigh before offering it up. “But, you might want to take a look.”
“Thanks.” Jack took the letter, distracted as one of the trucks inched dangerously close to a drop-off across the road. The driver was new and flirting with disaster. The road department had yet to come out and place guard rails. Jack had that at the top of the day’s To-Do list: hound the road department. The rails would have to come in before any of the new owners arrived.
Jack tucked the envelope into the pocket of his flannel shirt and started across the work field, motioning Mike to follow. “Do you see that drop-off at the entrance?”
“Sure do, boss.” Mike nodded as he fell into step. “Hard to miss that one.”
“Grab the specs and let’s take a look-see.” Jack lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. “It’s shaping up to be a problem.”
****
Misty glanced at the clock on the wall above the kitchen doorway and grimaced. She was due to fetch Allie from school in half-an-hour. Where had the day gone?
The laptop’s screen mocked her with a flash of graphics. She pushed away fr
om the table and leaned back in the chair, rubbing exhaustion from her weary eyes. This project was proving to be a bear, and doubt crept in that she’d manage to finish by the deadline she’d promised the client.
But, she had to finish. Her future—and Allie’s—depended on it. Spence Tucker, the new director of the expanding Mill’s Landing Parks and Rec department, could open doors Misty had only dreamed of crossing through.
If she nailed this job—on time.
Misty sighed and rolled kinks from her neck before slipping from the chair and padding over to the sink. One of the fringe benefits of managing her own Web-design agency was the ability to work from home…in her stocking feet and with her uncombed hair swept into a messy ponytail. Jeans and a T-shirt were optional—some work days slipped away before she even changed out of her pajamas or donned a hint of make-up.
Today was the exception. She’d dropped Allie at school, and then taken an early jog along the Landing to get the creative juices flowing. Inspiration had flared by the time she indulged in a quick shower. A trip down the electronic highway followed.
Until she hit a roadblock at the first turn. The photos Spence Tucker had sent were all wrong, and the layout left gaps. She needed more—better—soon.
Ugh. She refilled her coffee cup, added a splash of French-vanilla creamer, and took a moment to gaze through the bay window that swaddled the modest breakfast nook. Sunlight spilled across the yard beyond, spotlighting toys peeking through blades of grass that cried out to be mowed. The lawn would have to wait until tomorrow—she’d promised Allie a trip to the park after school. It would give her a chance to snap more photos of the walking trail and landscaping just coming into bloom. The trail snaked around the park and through the Landing. With a little luck, she’d capture the beauty she yearned to express through the Parks and Rec Website.
She fingered the buttons on the oversized flannel shirt she wore over a scoop-necked navy T-shirt. Patches of baby blue and soft yellow had faded from hundreds of washings, and one of the cuffs was missing its buttons. She wondered now why she hadn’t thrown it out—or burned it—years ago. The fabric, if she imagined hard enough, still carried the faint, wood-spice scent of Jack’s aftershave. Cotton caressed her pale skin like a gentle hug, just as Jack once had—before the breakup.
Maybe she kept the shirt—and still occasionally wore it—because of Allie. Despite the heartaches that Jack Seaton had caused, he’d given her Allie. Misty would be forever thankful to him for the gift of her daughter.
Misty glanced at a photo of Allie she’d tacked to the fridge. The child had Jack’s eyes…a swirl of wolf-gray with flecks of stonewashed blue that danced with a hint of mischief. Her rich black hair held Jack’s thick and wavy texture, as well. Misty was helpless when it came to restraining the mass with bows or elastic bands. She’d considered cutting it, but Allie loved the long locks. So, a headband worked best, Misty had learned through trial and error, and Allie had an arsenal to choose from.
Misty tore her gaze from the photo and her mind from the memories. She took a final sip of tepid coffee and then dumped what was left down the sink drain. The screensaver popped on, and a cluster of willows danced in a breeze, their shadows reflected along the water’s edge. Misty longed to be in the cool shade of the trees down at the Landing.
She forced the thought away and tried not to remember how she’d once waited there—foolishly—for Jack to come for her.
He never did.
Now there was way too much on her plate to waste time reminiscing—or wishing for something that was not meant to be. She’d moved on a long time ago.
Hadn’t she?
Disgusted with the thought, Misty gave the computer screen one last glance before closing the laptop. After jotting a few quick notes on a legal pad beside the computer, she tossed the pencil onto the table. The project could wait for later tonight—after Allie was in bed. Maybe then, her mind would be clear of Jack Seaton…and the nagging feeling that, despite all her blessings, something important in her life was missing.
2
Misty grinned as Allie burst through the front doors of Mill’s Landing Elementary School and raced across the manicured lawn toward the car. Her dark hair, which had escaped the ponytail Misty had painstakingly gathered it into that morning, whipped in the breeze like an unruly black wave. But she still had the headband—at least there was that. Her eyes crinkled cheerfully at the corners just like Jack’s had while he discussed his dream of managing a construction firm one day.
“Mama, Mama!” Allie’s voice rang above the din of rambunctious kids who scurried toward cars and buses like ants storming a picnic. “Can we go to the park?”
“I promised, didn’t I?” Misty rounded the hood of the car and opened the rear passenger door along the curb.
“Yep.” Allie tossed her lunch box into the car and launched herself into the backseat.
“What, no hug today?”
“Oh, Mama.” Allie turned back and threw her arms around Misty’s neck. “Did you have a good day?”
“Passable.”
“Did your computer crash again?”
“Not today.” Though the thought of last week’s fiasco made Misty cringe. Repairs had really put a dent in her meager savings. “The project’s almost done.”
“So, it’s gonna be dead soon?”
“It’s gonna meet the deadline.” Misty laughed. “I hope.”
“Oh yeah, I meant that.” Allie tossed her backpack aside and reached for the juice box Misty had placed in her booster seat’s cup holder. With the experience of a soon-to-be-six-year-old, Allie unwrapped the straw and punched it into the tiny hole at the top of the carton. She took a few long sips, and then smacked her lips with approval. “Yummy.”
“Good.” Misty leaned in to kiss Allie’s rounded nose. The child smelled of peanut butter and sunlight and lemon-scented markers. A red ring clung to her mouth—most likely the result of cherry Kool-Aid from her kindergarten class’s snack-time. Her cheeks were smudged with dirt from the school playground, and sand littered her white anklet socks. Again, Misty thought of Jack. Allie loved the outdoors as much as he did. Misty guessed it was in her blood.
Misty tugged the seatbelt strap that held Allie’s booster seat in place. “Good and tight?”
“Uh huh…just right.” Allie’s head bobbed sharply, a gesture also similar to Jack’s. Misty forced the thought aside. No matter how hard she tried to eradicate his memory from her life lately, Jack Seaton seemed everywhere.
“Good. To the park then. What will you ride first?”
“The slide!”
“Of course. That corkscrew’s your favorite.” Misty rounded the car and slipped into the driver’s seat. She cranked the engine, jostled the car into drive, and eased carefully into passing traffic. The whirr of the rear passenger window signaled that Allie had lowered it to allow the spring breeze to rush over her.
So much like Jack.
They cruised to the corner.
“Mama, can we keep Ralph this weekend?”
“Ralph?”
“Yeah. The hamster from my classroom. Mrs. Barnett says he needs a family to visit this weekend and no one’s volunteered. She told me to ask you if he can visit our house.”
“I’m sure she did.” Misty lowered the volume on the radio and thought of Lucky, the fluffy black cat they’d adopted from the Mill’s Landing animal shelter the year before. She didn’t imagine he’d take too kindly to an interloping rodent. “What about Lucky?”
“I think he’d like Ralph.” There was the telltale head-bob again. “Maybe they’ll be friends.”
“And maybe Ralph will become an afternoon snack.”
“Oh, no, Mama…not that.” Allie scratched a splatter of dirt from her cheek. “I’ll have a talk with Lucky, OK? I’ll ask his ’pinion and give Mrs. Barnett a yes or no tomorrow.”
Misty grinned. Allie’s analytical mind never ceased to amaze her. The kid was a professor in a pint-sized body. �
�Sounds like a plan.”
****
Jack tugged off his soiled jeans and shirt, dropping them by the laundry closet on his way to the bathroom. The day had been forever long, with one mishap after another. What he wanted now was nothing more than a hot shower, a cold drink, and something substantial to fill the empty cave that was his belly.
He staggered down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. His back cried out, and his head throbbed with the dull, incessant ache of stress. This project was his greatest challenge to date—one he’d once feared was a bigger bear than he could handle.
But, he’d handled it, and now the project neared completion. A fine-tune here, a little spackle there, and everything would be just peachy. He’d sign on the dotted line soon and grab his cut of the commission.
And then what?
The close of a project usually filled him with a sense of adventure about what came next. But this one, for some reason, was different. He felt a little sad, kind of empty if he cared to admit it. The project had whittled away nearly two years of his life. He ate with it, slept with it, breathed it twenty-four seven.
The culmination was almost like a break-up.
He grimaced as he banged his knee on the sink cabinet and then stubbed his toe against the door jamb. The room was a matchbox, with barely enough space to turn around. The shower spray did nothing to ease the rope of knots along his spine, as it ran lukewarm and devoid of pressure.
Jack quickly soaped and rinsed while his mind raced with a myriad of thoughts. It was long past time for him to find a place of his own—not some rented cubbyhole that passed for living quarters. He was one of the most—no, the most—successful commercial contractor in Eastern California. He could afford to live anywhere he wanted. His reputation and an impeccable work ethic had snagged him this latest contract to develop a townhome subdivision along an untouched mountain ridge in Palm Springs. Every unit had sold within the first six months, despite a sustained downturn in the economy. The land was nothing short of a gold mine.
