Blessings of the Heart and Samantha's Gift

by Valerie Hansen

  “Thanks, but no, thanks,” Bree said.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Her head snapped around, her eyes narrowing. “Of course not. You don’t scare me one bit.”

  “I wasn’t talking about me,” Mitch said. “I was talking about God.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? You told me once that you used to be a believer—until your mother died.”

  “So? What did I know? I was just a kid.”

  “When it comes to God, we all are,” he argued. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not a sin to ask questions, either. Or to doubt God’s love or His wisdom when we’re faced with loss. I did the same thing when my boys disappeared. The sad part is when a person gets stuck in that rut and never works through it.”

  “I’m not stuck in any rut,” Bree said flatly.

  A broad grin spread across Mitch’s face. “Good. Then as soon as the boys and I are settled in town and the phones start working again, I’ll call you and we’ll pick a Sunday that’s good for both of us.”

  I won’t go, she assured herself. Call all you want. I won’t go. I won’t go. I won’t go.

  The return of the exuberant children didn’t distract her. Nothing did. All during breakfast and the cleanup afterward the same declaration kept running through Brianne’s mind. She nurtured it as if it alone would ensure her unwavering resolve.

  Adamant, she convinced herself that if she’d had her computer powered up she’d have programmed the negative statement into a screen saver!

  Ryan was in the yard with Barney, so he was the first to spot the approach of their rescuers. He barreled into the house with a whoop that almost scared the poor dog into having another accident.

  Everyone headed for the front porch to see what all the shouting was about. Bree paused just outside the door while the others ran ahead to meet the approaching vehicle. It was a medium-size truck with a light bar mounted above the cab and a second bench seat behind the driver.

  Her heart lodged in her throat. She edged closer to listen to what was being said. Mitch was gesturing to the men in the mud-caked volunteer fire department rescue truck and pointing to the canyon, telling the story of what had happened to his cabin.

  Three men in heavy yellow coats climbed out of the truck. Mitch shook hands with them, then looked at his children.

  Bree heard him say, “Okay, boys. The firemen are going to give us a lift into town if we hurry. You guys need to go back in the house and gather up your stuff.”

  Then he looked at Brianne. “Guess you’re off the hook. You won’t need to drive us home, after all.”

  “Good.” She lifted her chin, managed a slight smile. “Whatever you do, don’t forget to take the dog.”

  Chuckling, Mitch stepped closer and gently grasped her hands. “There are lots of things I won’t forget, especially your kindness and tolerance.”

  “Or the fact that it was my fault you almost got killed.”

  “Nobody’s perfect,” he said, caressing her knuckles with his thumbs. “But I will have to admit, you’re closer than most.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “You’re welcome.” Mitch released her. “Well, I guess I’d better go get my gear, too. Not that there’s a lot of it. I just don’t want you to have to clean up after us when we’re gone.”

  He hesitated, looking from the house to the waiting fire truck. “Uh-oh. I just thought of something. I won’t have time to scrub the spare bathroom before I go.”

  “That’s okay,” Bree said. “Now that the road is open, Emma will be coming again soon. Whatever cleaning I don’t get done, she can finish.”

  “Okay. But that bathroom door will have to be replaced. I’ll measure it the next time I’m here, then pick one up and install it for you later.”

  Bree couldn’t stand there and allow him to talk about their nonexistent future for one more second. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll call the firm that remodeled the house before I moved in and have them handle it. That way, you won’t have to bother, and everything will be sure to match.”

  Sighing in resignation, Mitch nodded. “Okay. Have it your way.” Backing away he added dryly, “Perfect, as usual.”

  Rather than go into the house while Mitch was inside, Brianne waited on the lawn for the little family to come out. When they did, Mitch herded them past her as if she were of no more interest to him than one of her ornamental shrubs.

  “Bud and Ryan, you ride in the jump seats,” he was saying. “I’ll take Barney with me. Let’s go. Move it.”

  Ryan obeyed easily. Bud lagged behind, then doubled back to Brianne. There were tears in his eyes.

  Overcome with more affection than she’d thought possible, she dropped to her knees and took his little hand. “You be a good boy, okay?”

  Sniffling, he nodded.

  Fighting her own tears, she smiled at Bud, gave him a tender hug, then set him away and kissed his damp cheek. “I love you, honey. You remember that. Okay?”

  “O-kay.”

  “And take good care of your bear.”

  “Okay.” Hesitating, he sniffled again and looked at Brianne, his eyes glistening with more tears. “I want you to be my new mama.”

  That did it. Bree began to weep silently, un-ashamed. “Oh, honey, I wish I could be, but life doesn’t work like that. Grown-ups have a lot of other problems to worry about. Not everybody in your family likes me the way you do. You wouldn’t want them to be unhappy, would you?”

  The child burst into tears and threw himself at her, clinging to her neck with fierce determination. She struggled to her feet and carried him to the rescue truck, no more willing to let go of him than he was to release his hold on her.

  I won’t have Mitch Fowler feeling sorry for me, she lectured herself. I can’t let him see how upset I am.

  While Mitch was leaning into the truck to check Ryan’s seat belt, Bree handed Bud to one of the firefighters and hurried toward the house.

  It would have been gracious to stand on the porch, put on a brave front and wave a friendly farewell to her accidental guests. Unfortunately, Bree knew she didn’t have enough self-control left to manage it.

  It hurt too much to even think about what was happening. Seeing Mitch and the boys driving away would be far more pain than her wounded heart could take.

  “Cute dog,” the youngest firefighter said. He and Mitch were leaning against the rear of the truck’s cab, watching the road play out behind them while the others rode in the seats up front. Barney was curled in Mitch’s lap, shivering in spite of the warm day.

  “The kids found him during the storm,” Mitch said, petting the dog to soothe it—and himself. “I hope nobody comes forward to claim him when I place an ad in the lost and found. We’re all pretty attached to him already.”

  “I can see why. He does look kind of lost. Course, so do…” He stopped talking and looked away.

  Mitch knew exactly what he’d left unsaid. “My boys? Yeah, I know. They’ve had it pretty rough lately.”

  “I heard Miz Fowler’d died a while back. Sorry about that. So, you and the writer lady fixin’ to get together after all a this? You could do worse ‘n her, that’s a fact. ‘Sides, I heard she’s rich.”

  Mitch glared at him as if the other man had just spit in his face. “I suggest you keep your opinions of Ms. Bailey and me to yourself.” His voice was almost a growl. “You get my drift?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Fowler,” the younger man said. “Ain’t none of my business who you’re living with. No, sirree. If you and her want to shack up, nobody’s gonna hear about it from me.”

  Furious, Mitch figured it was a good thing he had to keep holding on to the dog to keep it from jumping out of the moving truck. If he’d had both hands free, he might have done something he’d have been sorry for later.

  He clenched his jaw. This was exactly the kind of wild rumor he’d been worried about.

  If he’d had only his welfare to consider when he l
earned that Brianne was living alone, he’d have left her house immediately, before anyone found out he’d even been there. Responsibility for Ryan and Bud, however, had eliminated that option.

  Although he hadn’t consciously made the choice to damage Brianne Bailey’s reputation, he had chosen to put the health and safety of his sons first. It had been the right thing to do. Unfortunately, this was the result.

  Denial of any wrongdoing would only sound like an excuse and make matters worse. If Bree didn’t get out of that house of hers pretty soon and personally demonstrate the kind of upright, virtuous person she really was, there was no telling how bad the gossip would get.

  Maybe she didn’t care, as she’d claimed, but he did. She’d rescued his family, and he was going to see to it that she didn’t have to pay any higher price for her good deed than she already had.

  And as for himself? Mitch snorted in disgust. The price he was paying was infinitely higher than a mere reputation. Being around Brianne had cost him his heart and soul. Whether he’d ever be able to reclaim them remained to be seen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For days after everyone else had left, Brianne had wandered aimlessly through her cavernous house, unable to concentrate, unable to work. Without Mitch and the boys underfoot, the place seemed more than empty. It seemed desolate.

  Everything she saw, everything she touched, reminded her fondly of them—even the cookie crumbs she’d found in the boys’ bed when she’d stripped off the sheets and gathered them to be washed.

  “I’m hopeless,” she murmured. “Absolutely hopeless.”

  She paused on the upper landing of the staircase, hugging the loose bundle of sheets and remembering the last time she and Mitch had stood there together. Could he have been trying to say what she’d thought he was? Or was she reading more into his declaration than was really there because affection was what always developed in the stories she wrote?

  Her sensible nature came to her rescue. There was no way two people could fall in love in just a few days. Those kinds of things only happened in fairy tales. She and Mitch might have felt some fondness for each other due to the stressful situation they’d been trapped in, but that didn’t mean they’d found anything lasting. They couldn’t have. They hardly knew each other.

  The sound of an approaching car caught her attention. Now what?

  Bree had missed out on her housekeeper’s usual Thursday session because the phone lines hadn’t been repaired in time for Bree to call and assure the older woman that the road was safe. By the time she’d finally reached her on Friday night, Emma had insisted she wasn’t free again until the following Tuesday. Could she have taken pity on her part-time employer and come early, after all?

  Hopeful, Bree listened. The car was slowing. She dropped the loose sheets in a pile on the entry floor and hurriedly threw open the front door.

  An unfamiliar pickup truck with an extended cab had stopped in the driveway. A well-dressed man was getting out. It couldn’t be! It was. Mitch Fowler!

  She gaped in awe. His hair had been trimmed and was neatly combed. A dark blue suit accented his trim frame, making his shoulders seem even broader, his waist more narrow. He was wearing a pale blue dress shirt and silk tie. Bree was flabbergasted. If she’d passed him on the street she might not have recognized him.

  Behind him, a small arm was waving to her from the rear seat of the shiny black truck. It looked like Bud. She returned the greeting. “Hi!”

  Mitch smiled, eyeing her. “I like that outfit. It looks nice and cool. But I’m afraid shorts aren’t really appropriate for where we’re going. How long will it take you to change?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s Sunday. We’ve come to take you to church.”

  Bree backed up, hands raised to fend him off. “Oh, no, you don’t. You said you’d call first.”

  “You have an unlisted phone. I couldn’t call.”

  “Hey, that’s not my fault. You could have asked me for the number if you’d really wanted it. You were here long enough.”

  He shrugged, pushed back his cuff to check his watch. “I know. My error. So, you coming with us? The service starts in forty-five minutes.”

  “No way.”

  “Okay. But if we backslide it’ll be your fault.”

  Mitch opened the passenger side door of his truck and folded the front seat forward to make it easier for the boys to clamber out.

  “Come on, guys. It’ll get too hot to sit in there for long. You can run around on the grass while I talk to Ms. Bailey. Just try to keep your new clothes and shoes clean, will you?”

  “Yeah!” Ryan shouted. Hitting the ground, he immediately raced for the back of the house with his brother in pursuit. As always, Bud’s bear made it a threesome.

  Mitch was removing his suit jacket and loosening his tie as Bree asked, “Where’s Barney?”

  “Home.” He gave a short laugh. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate riding with him.”

  “That’s a pretty truck. It looks new.”

  “It is. I wanted something that was roomy and safe for the kids. It had to come with four-wheel drive too, so we wouldn’t get stuck again. This seemed to fill the bill.” Mitch laid his jacket neatly over the back of the front seat, tossed the tie in after it and slammed the door.

  “Can you afford it?”

  “Yes. I told you I’m not broke. So, shall we go inside?”

  “Well…The place is kind of a mess.”

  “Never. Not your house.”

  Brianne pulled a face. “I missed Emma’s regular Thursday session last week.”

  “I’ll manage to tolerate the clutter, no matter how bad it is,” Mitch teased. He casually looped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. I need a big dose of that air-conditioning you keep on all the time.”

  What could she say? All her mental rehearsal had been in vain. He’d already thwarted her by not insisting she drop everything and attend church with him.

  “All right. But one joke about lousy housekeeping and out you go.”

  Laughing heartily, he escorted her to the door. “I wouldn’t dream of it. So, tell me…what have you cooked lately?”

  Bree was in a perfect position to elbow him in the ribs, and that’s exactly what she did. Mitch’s resulting oof made her giggle. “Hush. You deserved that, and more.”

  “Probably.” He’d released her and was feigning injury by rubbing his ribs. Then he spotted the pile of sheets on the floor and switched to visible shock. “What happened there? Did a laundry truck wreck in your foyer?”

  “I warned you…”

  “Okay, okay. Let’s go into the kitchen so we can watch the boys from the windows. They may look like they’ve reformed, but believe me, the change is mostly on the outside.”

  “I should have complimented you,” Bree drawled, eyeing him surreptitiously as he led the way down the hall. “You cleaned up nicely.”

  “Told you. It’s the suit.”

  “I meant the boys. They look really nice this morning,” she said, suppressing another giggle when Mitch turned to give her a derogatory look.

  She crossed to the kitchen sink and peered out the window above it. “Speaking of which, I don’t see them.”

  “Well, they can’t have gone far. Not in those shoes. They’re brand new. I had to sandpaper the soles to keep them from slipping on the carpet at home.”

  “Did you get settled in okay? I was worried you might need some help, but I was as cut off as you were. I didn’t ask for your address or phone number, either.”

  “I’m in the book,” Mitch said absently. Leaning past her, he began to frown when he couldn’t spot his children. “Excuse me a minute. I think I’d better go check on the kids.”

  It never occurred to Brianne to let him do it alone. Once outside, she had to half run to keep up with his long, purposeful strides.

  He called, “Ryan!”

  She thought she heard a faint answer from the direction of t
he canyon where the stream ran.

  “Over there,” she said, pointing.

  Mitch was way ahead of her. Breaking into a run, he sped across the wide lawn, not slowing until he reached the ruptured clay knoll that was all that remained of her manmade dam. He stopped, looked over the edge.

  Thirty feet below, Ryan, muddy and crying, was struggling to keep his footing on the slick slope.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Mitch plunged over the edge toward the frantic boy.

  So did Bree.

  Brambles and sharp twigs scratched her bare legs below her shorts. Mud and slimy dead leaves squished into her sandals and between her toes. She ignored the discomfort. All that mattered was reaching Ryan and finding out what was going on.

  Mitch got there first. “Where’s Bud?”

  Shaky sobs kept the eight-year-old from speaking clearly enough to be understood. Frantic, Mitch grabbed him by the shoulders. “Calm down. What happened? Where’s your brother?”

  “Down there,” Ryan said. “The bear fell.”

  “In the water?” Mitch shouted.

  Ryan nodded vigorously. “I—I tried to stop him. I told him I’d get it for him, like always, but—”

  Before he’d finished speaking, Bree was on her way again. Wherever Bud ended up, she knew it would have to be lower down the slippery hill. She didn’t even want to think about the possibility he might have jumped into the creek to rescue his teddy bear. The water wasn’t deep, but it was swift. Dangerous. And still filled with debris from the flood.

  Tree branches hung in her path and slapped her face, her bare arms. Saplings bent under the weight of her body as she passed over them, then snapped back like a whip.

  She could hear Mitch crashing through the brush, gaining on her, but there was no time to worry about holding the branches to keep them out of his face. Poor little Bud was in danger. Mitch was on his own.

  Breathless, she cried, “Bud! Where are you?”

  There was no answering shout. Not even a whimper.

  Closing in, Mitch echoed her call. His voice was hoarse, breaking with emotion. “Bud! Bud!”