Sweet Blessings (Love Inspired)

by Jillian Hart

  She did the same with the perfect stack of petite filet mignon the butcher had delivered fresh and wrapped. She tenderized the meat, aerated it, sprinkled the family’s secret steak flavoring and covered the dish. After fitting it into the crammed fridge, she turned around and there was Heath, reaching for the notebook to sign out.

  “Excuse me.” She moved a step back.

  He didn’t.

  “Come by here for dinner tonight, okay?” she asked, talking to fill the silence falling between them. To cover the sound of the rushing in her ears and the fast tinny beat of her heart. “Come in the back, let them know what you want. That’s the rule for our employees.”

  When he didn’t answer, her brows creased. As if frustrated with him, she shook her head, scattering stray gold wisps of her hair that fell into her eyes. She shut the refrigerator door and blew the bangs out of the way.

  Try to act normal, he coached himself. Act like nothing is happening.

  Except it was.

  He wanted to smooth the wayward strands away from her face. He wanted to trail his fingertips across the soft curve of her cheek to know if her creamy skin was as soft as it looked. He wanted to brush tiny kisses along the barely noticeable freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks.

  It was an impulse, this deep yearning to take care of her and to care for her. It scared him. Suddenly the walls felt as if they were inching in and he was caged. Out—he wanted outside. Trying to keep a lid on his panic, he moved casually but as quickly as he could, and spotted the full garbage can by the back door.

  It was the perfect excuse to leave. He tied off the sack, grabbed his baseball cap and tore outside into the building heat of the midday sun. The bright round disc was nearly straight overhead and his shadow was small as he marched over it, walking fast and far, wanting peace. And if he couldn’t have those, than he’d settle for being numb again. His heart hurt like an arm or leg long unused, crying out to protest the stretch and bend of weakened muscle.

  Heath swore the chambers of his heart were expanding, ready to explode like a bomb. He tossed the heavy bag into the big green Dumpster and dragged in deep, cutting breaths. The hot breeze and the wide-open space of the back parking lot made some of that edgy panicky feeling fade.

  The thing was, he didn’t want to care. Caring came hand in hand with vulnerability. Vulnerability brought inevitable loss. He was better off alone because caring about people only led to hurt. There was no other way about it.

  “Heath?”

  Amy stood on the threshold, the dim kitchen behind her, and the bright wash of spring before. She was as vivid as the day—her golden hair, creamy skin, soft pink T-shirt, ruffled calico apron. She shaded her eyes with one slender hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” It was a lie, they both knew it.

  Answering her honestly would only lead to talking, and talking to confessing and that’s what he’d done. Look at what trusting someone led to. She’d come to ask how he was because she cared. She remained standing in the hot sun, waiting for him to come closer.

  No. This was as far as his involvement went. He tugged the bill of his cap low, as if to keep the sun out of his eyes, but it was so that she couldn’t see in.

  Without a word, he pivoted on his heel and followed the wind as far away from her as he could get.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I think we’re going to stay slow,” Paige said as she unpacked canned goods from the earlier, midmorning delivery. “The noon hour is past, and we didn’t have much of a rush. Why don’t you pack that sandwich to go, if you’d rather. I’ll stay and handle all this. I know you put in way too many hours while I was gone.”

  Amy wrapped the sandwich good and tight and slipped it into a plastic bag. She sealed the zipper lock and looked around for a suitable size to-go bag. She chose the smaller size and snapped it open beside the meal she’d made for herself.

  “Rachel and I tried, but there’s no filling your shoes.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Compliments will get you everywhere. Oh, I saved a few brownies for you to take home. I know they’re Westin’s favorites.”

  “That will make my little boy smile.”

  “Just trying to keep my nephew happy.” Paige took time to smile before she hauled the heavy box into the storage closet. “Go home. Enjoy some time off.”

  “I will. I’ve got books to return and a house to clean.” If she hurried, she’d be done in time to pick up Westin from school. “Oh, I found out the time for his graduation on Friday. It’s two o’clock in the gym.”

  “I’ll be there with the video recorder. Oh, I bet I can get Jodi to stay a little longer to cover me.” Paige abandoned her restocking to dart over to the little office. “I’ll write it on the calendar so I don’t forget to ask her.”

  She had no sooner started to scribble than the phone rang. “I’ll get it. Go. Get out of here while you can!”

  Amy filled two containers of pasta salad, wrapped up the last of the brownies and decided on two cans of iced tea. Since her sister was still on the phone, Amy grabbed up the stuffed to-go bags, one in each arm and darted out into the brilliant May sunshine.

  She heard the window air conditioner rattling at full speed, so she dared to climb the stairs and knock on the door. No answer. She knew he was in there. The air conditioner was loud, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt and knocked louder.

  Nothing.

  Okay, that was a clue. He was home. He clearly wasn’t going to answer the door. Yep, maybe that was her answer. He’d seemed upset, really upset. First distant, then friendly enough and then angry, at least she thought he was angry. After she’d gone and talked on and on about her car troubles.

  All he had ever done since practically the moment he walked into the diner for a meal was to help her and her sisters. He’d defended them, he’d worked for them, he’d scared off vandals and he must be feeling as if the requests never stopped.

  At least, she thought that was the issue. She’d never been good at figuring men out. Who knew what they wanted or needed and why they acted the way they did. It was probably because she couldn’t really remember her dad. She had certain memories, sure, but she couldn’t recall the experience of having him in her life. Only the absence that came with his passing.

  No, she was terrible when it came to figuring out men. She’d failed miserably with Westin’s father, but then, she’d been nineteen, so very young. She’d kept a wide berth from men since. She served coffee and meals and made polite conversation with men every day in the diner, but that was different.

  But Heath…no, she didn’t know what to do with him.

  Looking back, Amy remembered that John had called from the hardware store about halfway through the lunch rush. While she’d busily fried up barbecue burger specials and rolled up house club wraps and filled big bowls with taco and chef salads, she’d listened to Paige down the narrow hallway at the desk. Apparently John had found replacement windows at cost, and he’d said Heath had volunteered to install them.

  Heath. She couldn’t get away from thinking about him. Not even though she tried. Paige had gone on about what a great find Heath Murdock was between serving orders and waiting tables. Amy had shaken her head, tossing a teriyaki chicken filet on the grill.

  She knew so little about him. Where he’d grown up, all the things he must have done for a living, how long he had been drifting. What were his favorite foods? Where had he learned to make hot chocolate like that?

  What she knew for sure, as she stood now on the hot outdoor staircase, was that his heart was lost. His hopes decimated. His future only ashes from the past. She knew exactly how hard it was to look back with regrets—huge, devastating regrets. She’d been an impulsive teenager who thought she knew everything. She’d ran headfirst into the realities of life. But she wasn’t alone. She’d had a family to return to, a job, a home and the chance to start over.

  It wasn’t pity she felt for him. It was recognition. There was a time when
she’d felt as if her life was nothing more than cold ashes slipping through her fingers. A dark cloud settled on her soul simply remembering that desolation. She knew what it felt like to have no hope. To have been knocked so thoroughly to the ground it seemed impossible to climb back up onto your knees and stand.

  No one she trusted understood the bleak depression that had nearly choked her when she’d returned, broken and humiliated. Sure, her family had known hardship, and they certainly weren’t living a carefree and luxurious life, but not even Rachel and Paige could know what it felt like to look ahead and see nothing but a dark endless void where a future was supposed to be.

  Amy sighed, wondering if she should knock one more time. Heath still hadn’t opened his apartment door. Was he in there, hoping she’d go away? Was he sorry she’d figured out what had happened to him?

  If anyone had known what had really happened to her in Seattle, she didn’t think she could stand it. That person wouldn’t look at her the same way again, not without remembering.

  Maybe it was like that for Heath. He didn’t want to remember.

  The Lord must be walking with him every second of the day. How else could Heath have kept on living? He probably wouldn’t admit to it and he probably couldn’t see it, but no one could survive immense sorrow without grace.

  Amy set the bag lunch she’d packed for him on the top step, knocked again and headed down. Hugging her own lunch close, she thought of her blessings. Every single one of them sweetened her life like lilacs on the breeze. Tears burned in her eyes for the man upstairs. God had brought him into their diner for a reason. He had kept him here for that reason.

  Is there something I should be doing, Father? Or am I to let him be? Surely Heath needed respite from his drifting. Maybe that’s why he was here. To strengthen before moving on. She didn’t know, but she would do that all she could.

  She was almost to the bottom of the stairs when the old, weatherbeaten door scraped against the frame as it opened.

  “Amy?”

  He looked as if she’d woken him from a nap, and instantly she felt contrite. His hair was disheveled, a dark mop of tousled locks that made her fingers tingle. She’d never had the longing to run her fingertips through a man’s hair before. With him towering over her in a wrinkled T-shirt and a crease mark from a pillow against his jawline, he looked adorable. All six-feet-plus of him, so rugged and tough, and she warmed deep inside. A new part of her soul felt as if it had winked on, like the first star in a calm summer sky.

  She shook the image out of her head. There were so many extremely good reasons why she needed to rein in her growing affection for the man. But not her regard. He’d done so much good in so short a time. “I know you didn’t get lunch at the diner, so I fixed a sandwich for you. I guessed and made roast beef with swiss and spicy mustard.”

  “Perfect.” He raked his hand through his hair, making every strand stick straight up.

  Even more attractive, but not in a cute way. In a way that made her wish—even when she knew better. “I tossed in a few other goodies too, chips and salad and dessert. If you’re not hungry now, it’ll keep in the fridge for later.”

  “That was pretty thoughtful of you. Say, is there a bookstore around here?”

  “Not unless you’re in the mood to drive to Bozeman. The Shop Mart has a book section.”

  “A pretty small section. I already checked it out.”

  “That reminds me. There’s the county library on the other side of the tracks. Near the grade school.”

  “It’s been my experience libraries only let out books to permanent town citizens. I had a library card in Portland. I read all the time. But not since I left.” He shrugged one granite shoulder. “I’ll survive. Thanks for the lunch.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He’d lived in Portland. Oregon? Or Maine? It was all she could think while time suspended and the twick-twick-twick of the neighbor’s sprinkler faded to silence. The brilliant greens of the trees and the stunning blue of the sky and the purple of lilac cones bled their colors until the world around her was gray and Heath was all she could see.

  She gasped as a strange sensation moved through her. It was as if he’d cast a fishing line, a hook had sunk deep into her heart and he’d begun to reel her in.

  “I have an idea,” she found herself saying. “I’ll tell the librarian to add you to my account. That way you can check out books. I’d offer to do it for you, but I’m sure I can get Mrs. Pendleton to bend the rules.”

  “Wow, that’d be great of you.”

  “We’ve trusted you to cook for our customers, I think you’re reliable enough for a library card. Besides, now I get to do something for you. Something that matters.”

  She glowed like her own light source, Heath realized. Maybe she didn’t know it, he’d rarely seen the like. All brightness and kindness and all that was wholesome in this world. Everything that he’d stopped believing in, had pushed away from and denied.

  He couldn’t speak. His hand found the railing and his grip closed around the worn smooth wood. She’d known what he’d done and look at her, trusting him enough to be responsible with library books. When the truth was, the truth she couldn’t see and he couldn’t speak of, was that he’d been irresponsible with the greatest of God’s blessings. Shame filled him like cooling lead and he could feel it move through him, hardening his spirit and his heart.

  “Oh, I’m going there now,” Amy called as naturally as if she were speaking to one of her sisters. “Did you want a ride?”

  He managed one shake of his head. That was all.

  “Okay. Make sure you ask for Mrs. Pendleton, then.”

  He kept staring at her.

  Okay, time to go. She took one step and it felt as if the hook in her heart dug deeper.

  She laid a hand on her chest and didn’t know what to think. She left him standing above, so still it didn’t look as if he breathed. As she dug her keys out of her jeans pocket, she wondered why it felt as if she were leaving a vital part of herself behind.

  She was fine. Just the same as always. Nothing had changed in her, right? She started the engine, cringed at the horrible knocking clanging sound and put the car in gear.

  All the way across the railroad tracks and the few blocks to the new brick library on a tree-lined corner, she felt the tug of that hook. Felt a powerful bond she did not want.

  It was a bond she did not need.

  Her car was in the shady parking lot of the modest, single-story library across from the elementary school. The streets were quiet, the students presumably tucked away inside the building, learning great things.

  Forcing his attention toward Amy McKaslin’s car, he didn’t have to think about the empty playground, which would probably soon be full of kids running and shouting and laughing, just glad to be free. It was strange, he’d cut himself off for so long, he’d forgotten that people lived in tidy little homes that lined tree-shaded streets. Moms would come to pick up their little ones, or to meet them at the bus stop. Kids would come running with artwork and demerit notes, eager for a snack before dashing outside to play.

  He almost kept going, because the library building was compact and it would be hard not to bump into Amy, since she was in there. He wasn’t ready to see her. The truth was, he wanted to see her. Even if it was a bad decision. Even if there was a powerful, unexplained bond between them. So he chose a parking spot close to the exit, hopped out and locked up.

  As he strolled toward the double glass entrance doors, a woman somewhere in her forties passing him gave him a nod. It felt odd, because for so long he’d been as good as invisible.

  The interior of the library was cool and crisp and smelled of paper, binding glue, leather and dust. Good scents. He caught a gray-haired robust woman giving him the once-over from behind the gleaming counter of the front desk. Chances were good that she was Mrs. Pendleton, who hadn’t been as easy to win over, he guessed, as Amy had counted on.

  It took him only
a second to orient himself. He found the mystery suspense section. The library was small, but they had a good selection. This is what he’d been missing, and better memories rolled through his mind. Memories of taking a rainy Saturday going from one bookstore to another, drinking espresso and browsing through the bays. Finding just the right story to read next.

  He pulled out a favorite author’s older book and read the dust jacket.

  It was as if an angel touched him on the shoulder, stirring him from the book and leading him to her. Amy. He knew, as she glanced up from thumbing through a card-catalogue drawer, that some things happen for a reason.

  Not that he was willing to admit his life was governed by more than fate. But it sure felt that way, and the shifting of his soul was as if a part of him leaned toward the light, toward life. Her.

  Her hair was down, that’s what was different about her. When she worked, it was always tied stringently back. Golden streaks rippled like water in her darker blond hair, buoyant and rich and so lustrous. Those golden locks framed her soft oval face, emphasizing the delicate cut of her high cheekbones and the fine curve of her chin. Soft rosy cheeks and a rosebud mouth, she appeared so fresh and wholesome, she was beautiful all the way through. He knew that because he could feel her spirit, which was all spring light. His heart thumped as if it was doing more than pumping his blood.

  He was coming back to life. Amy was doing this to him.

  What should have been painful was not. His chest warmed as if he’d downed a big mug of steaming hot chocolate, melting through him until he was no longer cold.

  Across the way, she hadn’t noticed him. Her slim fingers walked along the old catalogue cards. A wrinkle dug between her eyes as she concentrated. It was a cute thing, the way she bit her bottom lip and folded back a shock of hair that tumbled into her eyes.