The Dad Next Door

by Stephanie Dees

  She stood and made her way to stand beside the mayor. Smoothing her skirt with damp palms, she smiled nervously. It was silly. She knew these people. No longer was she a stranger, but she was a part of their lives and they a part of hers. They had survived a near-miss natural disaster together and had grown closer as they supported each other through it. She lifted her head and met Bertie’s gaze. To her surprise, Bertie’s eyes were shining with tears.

  The mayor put his hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Now, I will admit that I had no real understanding of what Claire here was planning to do when we first had the discussion about turning Red Hill Farm into a foster home. Since then I’ve had the opportunity to talk with Claire. I attended a listening session she had after church and I can say without reservation that I am in full support of Red Hill Farm being a family home for children who don’t otherwise have one.”

  He shifted on his feet, looking down at them before returning his gaze to the crowded room. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little ashamed that I thought of what was comfortable for me and my town before I realized these are actual children we are talking about. So—” he reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out a chocolate kiss “—I hereby cast my vote for Claire and Red Hill Farm.”

  He dropped the kiss into a glass bowl on the table in front of her and walked to his seat in the front row. Claire’s breath caught. She stared at the silver-wrapped kiss.

  Finally, she searched out the mayor, the question unspoken. He caught her eye and winked. The moment stretched, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before Jamie stood. Her son with autism had fallen in love with Freckles and Claire was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

  Jamie walked to the front of the room, a broad smile on her face. “I vote to have therapy with horses for children who need it.”

  She tossed a kiss into the bowl in front of Claire and whispered, “I don’t know what we did before you came.”

  Bertie followed, placing her chocolate kiss in the bowl with the others. “I vote for all children to have a home where they will be loved and supported.”

  Claire’s chest ached with the effort to keep it together.

  A beautiful blonde with a little boy around six holding her hand walked to the front. She said, “I’m Harvey Haney’s daughter, Mary Pat. I cast my vote for neighbors helping neighbors.”

  When she nudged him, her son tossed a kiss into the bowl and smiled at Claire, charming her with his missing two front teeth.

  Claire choked back tears as Ellen walked forward. Ash. Lanna and Jules. Pastor Blakely. One by one, they cast their vote for Red Hill Farm. The bowl was brimming with chocolate kisses, the little silver wrappers shining in the warm light of the community room.

  Those little kisses told her that she had been heard. That the community—her community—had listened. To her, like those long-ago afternoon chats with her mom, they were a symbol of burdens lifted and feelings safely shared.

  She brushed dampness away from her eyes as Jordan came forward, a kiss in her hand, a wide grin on her face. “I vote for partnership and Red Hill Farm.”

  Amelia came next, a chocolate kiss in her hand. Her eyes were still a little uncertain, but she smiled when she dropped the kiss into the bowl. “I vote for family.”

  Claire grabbed Amelia in a hug, her eyes squeezed shut. When she opened them again, Joe stood in front of her. She barely registered Amelia slipping back to her seat.

  His sunglasses were nowhere to be seen and his piercing blue eyes seemed to see right into her soul. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile and she had to remind herself to breathe when he began to talk.

  “I wasn’t sure what to expect when I found you on the front porch at the old plantation home. Other people would have melted into hysterics at the condition of the place, but not you, Claire. You imagined children dancing, music playing.” His eyebrows drew together in real consternation. “You have a knack of seeing beauty and potential in things that are scarred and broken.

  “Even me. You showed me that I could make my life into whatever I wanted it to be. And I don’t have to do it alone.”

  He reached into his pocket. She knew she would see a chocolate kiss. Her heart felt so full and so fragile, like it could shatter into a million pieces with a touch.

  When he pulled his hand out, there in his palm lay a sparkling diamond solitaire with a little white tag, just like the candies.

  She gasped, her gaze riveted on the ring.

  Joe cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was raspy with emotion. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want the bajillion kids who could come through our house and I want to love them all. I want forty-two horses and a dozen dogs and a family of goats. I want Amelia to have sisters and brothers. A whole ton of ’em. I want our holidays to be overrun with kids, with sleeping bags all over the floor because we have to cram to fit everyone under one roof. I love you, Claire. Please, marry me.”

  Claire stared at the ring in his hand. She’d come here to give foster kids a second chance, a new life. Well, standing right here in front of her was hers.

  She looked into his perfect blue eyes and smiled.

  “Yes.”

  Epilogue

  “Is she here yet?” Joe slammed the door of his official police vehicle and strode to where Claire was sitting on the picnic table in the warm April sun, her tablet in hand, making a list. With seven children, she didn’t have time to be looking for notes she wrote randomly to herself all day.

  He leaned over, and when she looked up with a distracted smile, he dropped a kiss on her lips.

  Her eyes lit up, her arm snaking around his neck to pull him in for another. “I missed you.”

  He growled in the back of his throat and pulled her closer. “I missed you more.”

  “Is she here yet?” Jordan swung her legs over the fence and dropped to the ground. “Seriously, guys? Is this the right time to be kissing?”

  Joe grinned. “Is there a bad time for kissing?”

  A door slammed open upstairs. “Mom, is she here yet?”

  “Not yet, Amelia. Any minute.”

  Jordan started for the house. “I’ll go check on the kids inside. Do you want me to order the pizza?”

  “Yes, it’s tradition now, so we have to.” Claire looked up at Joe, a glint of humor in her eyes. “We’re all a little excited.”

  “I hear ya. How’s the list coming?”

  “We moved Derio in with the younger guys so Kiera can have her own room. I went ahead and got the boys to put a crib in there, but I figured she would want to pick out the bedding and stuff herself.”

  “Did Mom take the kids to the store?”

  “Yes, each of the kids picked their item for the welcome basket. We have peanut butter crackers, a stuffed animal, a pair of fuzzy socks, a Hershey bar, an iTunes gift card, a bottle of vitamins and some ear plugs.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Ear plugs?”

  “Apparently, Crystal thinks our house is louder than the juvenile facility she came here from. I added a monogrammed backpack like the other girls have, so that leaves you.”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out a familiar velvet box. Inside was a round charm engraved with today’s date on a simple gold chain. The start of a new life. No matter what she chose to do with it, Kiera would have this reminder that today she had a second chance.

  Joe knew about those, thanks to Claire. He pulled another box out of his other pocket, this one with a single pearl. Claire had one for each of the children who had become a part of their family over the last few months.

  Her eyes held a suspicious shine and he pulled her closer again. He loved that she was already invested in a child she hadn’t even met. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart.”

  “I have one fo
r you, too.” She pulled a slim box from her bag.

  “What is this?” He gave it a surreptitious shake.

  “Open it.”

  Taking the top off, he found a thin stick with a small screen with one word on it. Pregnant.

  His head whipped up. “You. We... Wait.” He looked at the stick again. “We’re having a baby?”

  She nodded, eyes brimming now.

  Joe let out a whoop and swung her off the table and into his arms, nuzzling her neck and making her squirm before setting her on her feet. “A baby? It’s just... Wow. Wow.”

  “Do you think we’re crazy?” She laughed, but her voice held a hint of vulnerability. He laced his fingers with hers as the caseworker’s car turned into the drive.

  Children and teens seemed to come pouring out of everywhere, including the twin ten-year-olds who came running from the barn, followed by a frolicking set of goat twins.

  Joe laughed and pressed a kiss into her hair. “Definitely crazy. In the best possible way.”

  When Kiera got out of the car, he watched as the family—his family—welcomed her. Against all odds, they’d actually managed to turn this old place into a home.

  In real life, second chances didn’t come along every day. But here at Red Hill Farm, they did.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed THE DAD NEXT DOOR,

  look for these other emotionally gripping stories:

  THE RANCHER’S TEXAS MATCH

  by Brenda Minton

  LONE STAR DAD

  by Linda Goodnight

  And the rest of the FAMILY BLESSINGS

  miniseries by Stephanie Dees,

  coming soon from Love Inspired!

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A READY-MADE AMISH FAMILY by Jo Ann Brown.

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  Dear Reader,

  Thanks so much for spending some time in Red Hill Springs, Alabama! The name of my fictional small town is inspired by real-life springs, where the waters have been flowing—and providing respite and relief for weary travelers—for hundreds of years.

  Each of the Sheehan siblings is facing challenges, but through faith and with love, they will learn that sometimes broken dreams lead to family blessings. If you liked The Dad Next Door, please join me back in Red Hill Springs in October for the next book in the Family Blessings series.

  I’d love to hear from you! I can be reached at my website, stephaniedees.com, or via email at steph@stephaniedees.com.

  Stephanie Dees

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  A Ready-Made Amish Family

  by Jo Ann Brown

  Chapter One

  Paradise Springs

  Lancaster County, Pennsylvania

  “You look like you could use help.”

  When he heard the woman’s calm voice, Isaiah Stoltzfus wanted to shout out his thanks to God for sending someone when he’d lost complete control of the situation. One kind was using the bellows in his blacksmith’s shop to blow cold ashes everywhere, and two others clacked lengths of metal together like ancient knights holding sabers while a fourth kind sat on the stone floor and sobbed. In the past fifteen minutes, he’d learned the true meaning of being at his wits’ end. He’d never guessed four young kinder could make him want to throw his hands into the air and announce he was in over his head. He’d been sure the kinder would be interested in visiting his blacksmith shop, but he’d been wrong. After a single glance around the space, they’d been bored and looked for the mischief they seemed able to find anywhere. He needed to take them somewhere else and find a way to divert their energy.

  As if he’d given voice to his thoughts, Nettie Mae, the sobbing three-year-old girl sitting on his left boot, pressed her head against his leg and said, “Wanna go home, Onkel Isaiah. Go home now.”

  Before he could answer either Nettie Mae or the woman, a cloud of dust exploded out of his unlit forge. He sneezed and waved it away. The other three-year-old girl was pumping harder and harder until a wheezing warning sound came out of the leather bellows. He opened his mouth to tell Nettie Mae’s twin, Nancy, to stop before she broke something, but one of the five-year-old boys who’d been poking at each other with the metal staffs yelped in pain and began crying.

  Isaiah took a lumbering step toward the boys, hobbled by Nettie Mae, who clung like a burr to his trousers. How could he have lost control over four preschoolers so quickly?

  The task wasn’t one for a man who’d never had kinder of his own. Maybe if Rose hadn’t died soon after they married and they’d had a boppli, it would be easier to anticipate what the youngsters might do next. The Beachy kinder were active and inquisitive, but every time he thought about scolding them, he recalled how they’d lost their parents two weeks ago. He didn’t want to upset them more, yet somehow every situation escalated into pandemonium.

  But the woman who had been a silhouette in the doorway didn’t seem to have the same qualms. Without a single word, she walked into his smithy as if she’d been there dozens of times. A flash of sunlight danced on her lush, red hair, which was pulled back beneath her black bonnet. Her brown eyes glanced in his direction before she focused on the kinder. She plucked the shafts out of the boys’ hands and scooped their sister off the cold forge in a single motion, scattering ashes across her own dark blue dress. Placing the metal bars on a nearby table, she settled Nancy on her hip and knelt in front of the boys.

  “Where does it hurt?” she asked one twin—Andrew, Isaiah noted—as she wiped tears from his pudgy cheeks and almost dislodged his straw hat.

  “Ouch,” the towhead said, pointing to his right thumb that was already bright red.

  Isaiah watched in amazement as the woman cradled the little boy’s hand as she ran a fingertip along his thumb. When the kind flinched, she murmured something too low for Isaiah to hear, but Andrew must have understood because he nodded, his eyes wide and filled with more tears.

  “I don’t think it’s broken,” the woman said in the same serene voice, but loud enough so Isaiah could hear. “And I suspect as soon as little minds are focused on other things, the bruise will be forgotten. However, just in case, we should watch it over the next couple of days.”

  “We?” Isaiah asked, his voice rising on the single word.

  “You are Isaiah Stoltzfus, aren’t you?” She looked at the youngsters, then him. No doubt she was thinking there couldn’t be another overwhelmed man with two sets of twins wre
cking his smithy in Paradise Springs.

  “Ja. Who are you?”

  “Clara Ebersol.”

  “You are Clara Ebersol?” He shouldn’t stare, but he couldn’t help himself.

  As she set Nancy on the floor and came to her feet, he held out his hand to help her. She must not have seen it, because she didn’t take it. When she was standing, he was startled to realize he didn’t have to look down far to meet her gaze. She was, he noticed for the first time, very tall for an Amish woman, because he wasn’t a short man. None of the Stoltzfus brothers were, but her eyes were less than a handbreadth below his. She was also lovely—something he had already noticed—possessing a redhead’s porcelain complexion. Not a single freckle marred her cheeks or dappled her nose.

  He forced his eyes to shift away, glad nobody else was there. If he as much as talked to a woman for more than a minute, someone mentioned she would make him a gut wife. Everyone seemed eager to get their widowed minister married. Finding him staring at Clara Ebersol would have given the district’s matchmakers cause to start sticking their well-meaning noses into his life again.

  “Weren’t you expecting me?” Clara stroked Andrew’s hair, and the little boy leaned his head against her skirt. “Your brother Daniel learned I was looking for a job, and he asked me if I’d be willing to help you take care of these kinder. He said I’d find you here.” For the first time, her composure showed a faint crack as she looked at him again. “Didn’t he tell you?”

  “Ja, he told me.”

  When Daniel had stopped at the Beachys’ house on his way home a couple of nights ago, he’d been pleased to tell Isaiah that he’d found someone to help take care of the twins. Isaiah had been grateful when Daniel had said he’d talked to Clara Ebersol himself, and she seemed perfect for the job. Arrangements had been made for her to meet Isaiah at the smithy today, because he’d hoped to finish a few tasks. But what Daniel had failed to mention—and Isaiah had never thought to ask about—was that Clara Ebersol was not a well-experienced grossmammi who’d already raised a household of kinder. She was a lovely young woman. Was his brother, who’d recently fallen in love and found a family, matchmaking? That was the only reason Isaiah could think of why his brother hadn’t mentioned Clara’s age. If he had to guess, Isaiah would say she must be close to his thirty years.