Love Inspired June 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Patricia Johns

  The next morning she drove Glorieta to church. It was nice not having to go alone the first time. Nestled in a glade on the edge of town, the steeple brushed a picture-perfect Blue Ridge sky.

  She turned into the parking lot. Gravel crunched beneath the tires of her car. They’d arrived just before the service was to begin.

  Under one of her many Sunday-go-to-meeting hats, Glorieta nodded in approval. “Very picturesque.” Mama G had a style all her own, a flair for life.

  A tiny footbridge, spanning the small creek, connected the parking area to the church lawn. Rushing water burbled over the moss-covered stones. The apple-green leaves of a willow rustled in a light breeze.

  Exactly as Kara remembered.

  Arm in arm, she and Glorieta strolled over the footbridge. Church members had gathered on the steps of the sanctuary. Including the Double Name trifecta. Above the soft murmur of voices were sweet sounds of birdsong.

  She recognized many who’d visited her café yesterday. The cowboy rancher and his rather elegant young wife, AnnaBeth. The attractive, curly redheaded woman in the flowing skirt, Lila, with her extremely handsome, blond fiancé. The police chief, although not in uniform today, and his wife, Maggie, who’d come yesterday with their twin boys.

  Cute little Maddox must be about their sons’ age. She didn’t see any children. But perhaps there was a children’s service in the adjacent educational building.

  GeorgeAnne went stiff at the sight of her, but the others welcomed them. ErmaJean abandoned her companions to usher them inside the two-hundred-year-old sanctuary.

  Huge, hand-hewn beams soared above their heads. Prisms of light refracted beams of color through the stained-glass windows. She and Glorieta slipped into the blue-cushioned pew. ErmaJean slipped in behind them.

  This was the first time since that long-ago Homecoming Sunday that Kara had sat in this sanctuary. Coming home. That was what it had felt like then. That was what it felt like now.

  A few weeks after that Sunday, her father was killed in a construction accident. She and her mom lost touch with the Hicks family. But ever since, Kara had held the memory of the town, the church and the people in a special place in her heart.

  Today she let the peace of the music and the words of Scripture wash over her like cleansing rain.

  After the service Reverend Bryant shook her and Glorieta’s hands. Everyone was welcoming and friendly. She met lots of people, who all expressed a desire to visit the café in the coming week.

  ErmaJean insisted she and Glorieta come to her house for Sunday dinner. “My cooking isn’t grand, though. I’m an ordinary cook. I’m almost embarrassed to serve two chefs my simple food.”

  Glorieta shook her head. “Simple food is best. I’m just a cook, too.” She patted ErmaJean’s arm. “I wanted Kara to have the training I never received, but what matters most is the love behind the food.”

  They followed ErmaJean past the Welcome to Truelove sign, clattered across the bridge and turned off Main onto a quiet street in the neighborhood behind the elementary school.

  ErmaJean pulled up in the driveway next to a rambling bungalow. Kara parked on the street behind an SUV. A young family got out of the vehicle.

  Two little ash-blonde girls, twins, raced up the driveway toward Miss ErmaJean. “Gigi!” they shouted.

  ErmaJean gathered them close as the girls talked over each other in excitement about children’s church that morning.

  “Hi, I’m Ethan, ErmaJean’s grandson.” The young man hugged the heavily pregnant woman at his side. “Those rambunctious two are our girls, Lucy and Stella. And this is my wife, Amber.”

  She and Glorieta introduced themselves.

  Amber rubbed small circles on her belly. “The twins need no introduction. Folks a mile away can tell when we’re home.”

  Glorieta smiled. “Your children are lovely. You’re doing a great job with them.”

  “Thank you. Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.” Amber’s sky-blue eyes watered. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”

  “Pregnancy hormones.” Glorieta took Amber’s arm as they walked up the driveway toward the house. “I remember them well. When are you due?”

  “Next month, after Easter.” She blew a strand of wheat-blond hair out of her eyes. “And it can’t come quick enough for me.”

  Letting go of the girls, ErmaJean gave Amber a hug. “She’s a trouper. Still working full-time at the pediatrician’s office.”

  Ethan grinned. “And putting up with me.”

  Amber’s eyes twinkled. “That’s the tricky part.”

  He laughed, and they shared a look of such sweet tenderness Kara felt a lump form in her throat. Surrounded by her pots and pans, most of the time she stayed too busy honing her craft to be lonely. But seeing them reminded her of what she might be missing. Recalling secret dreams she kept close to her heart.

  Because it was a lovely day, lunch was a casual affair on the patio between the house and Ethan’s furniture restoration workshop.

  ErmaJean and Glorieta seemed to hit it off, which pleased Kara no end. Soon after lunch, the girls became restless and moved away from the table to play badminton in the yard.

  “You two seem so close.” ErmaJean handed Kara a plate with a slice of pound cake. “How did you and Glorieta meet?”

  Tensing, Kara accepted the plate from the old woman.

  But Glorieta gave her a reassuring smile. “Actually, I fostered Kara after her mother passed.”

  And gave everyone the highly condensed version of events that led to Kara becoming part of the barbecue family dynasty. Skimming over the when, where and why of how they’d first met.

  She didn’t tell many people about that period of her life. The memories of those years between Homecoming Sunday with her intact family and becoming part of the Ferguson clan were filled with such sadness that she preferred not to revisit them.

  “I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your father, Kara.” ErmaJean’s face crumpled. “And your mother’s illness, too. You were so young. How hard that must’ve been for you.”

  Kara pressed her lips together.

  ErmaJean fretted her napkin. “Around here we believe family takes care of family. My late husband would’ve been grieved to know you had to go into the foster system. But we had no idea... I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  Reaching over, she took the older lady’s blue-veined hand. “The families lost touch. It happens.”

  “Yet, the Lord worked it for good.” Mama G took hold of Kara’s free hand. “And I got the daughter I never had but longed for.”

  “We know a little something about that, too, don’t we baby cakes.” Ethan kissed his wife’s cheek. “Except in my case, a double heaping of blessing.”

  The twins, Lucy and Stella, were Amber’s children from a brief, failed first marriage. Just then, the shuttle birdie sailed across the patio and landed smack in the middle of the table. Resting like a plastic white crown atop the pound cake.

  “Sorry!” seven-year-old Lucy called.

  But the interruption served to divert the conversation toward less emotionally charged topics. Ethan tossed the birdie back to the twins.

  ErmaJean gave them an earful on the latest Truelove happenings. Including the proposed shutdown of the fire station.

  “That’s terrible,” Glorieta murmured.

  If Will lost his job, would he and Maddox move away? The idea pained Kara. For Maddox’s sake, of course.

  “Will’s my neighbor. Lives across the street.” ErmaJean lifted the tea pitcher. “Can I get anyone more tea?”

  “Please. And thank you.” Glorieta held out her glass. “Did we meet him at church this morning, Kara?”

  “No, I didn’t see him.”

  And yes, she’d looked.

  “Maddox went to children’s church wit
h his grandfather today, but Will hasn’t been to church since they returned to Truelove.” ErmaJean’s mouth pursed. “Not since his wife—”

  “Grandma.” Ethan settled his shoulders against the back of the chair. “No use in raking up the past. What’s done is done.”

  Nothing further was said about the fire chief. The conversation moved on to other community events. Like the upcoming pancake fund-raiser and Easter celebrations. It appeared ErmaJean was on every committee in Truelove.

  Kara enjoyed getting to know Amber and Ethan. For some inexplicable reason, their teasing, playful relationship reminded her of Will. Not that she had a relationship with Will. They were merely acquaintances.

  Given time, could they become friends? Although with the potential closure of the fire station, the opportunity might never arise.

  Long-term, she wanted what most women wanted—a husband, children, a lovely home and maybe a dog. She held on to the hope that after the restaurant was firmly established, she’d have more free time to pursue a personal life.

  “I’d love to get together with you, Kara.” Amber opened her arms as one of the twins—the quieter one, Stella—deposited herself in her mother’s lap. “And introduce you to some other women our age, like my best friend, Callie. Her family owns an apple orchard.”

  “I’d like that.” Up till now, ErmaJean had been her only friend in Truelove. “Thank you.”

  “The welcome sign doesn’t lie.” Glorieta beamed. “Truelove’s reputation is well deserved, I’m glad to see. My Kara is in good hands here.”

  Amber winked at her husband. “And not just the first part on the sign, either.”

  “Truelove—where true love awaits.” Grinning, he nudged his grandmother. “Thanks to a little help from certain friends.”

  “Love isn’t only for the young, but also for the young at heart.” ErmaJean wagged her finger. “You stick around long enough, Glorieta Ferguson, and you might find your one true love, too.”

  At Mama G’s expression, Kara nearly choked on her sweet tea.

  “No one’s ever too old for love.” Amber turned to her husband. “How many from the older generation is it now?”

  “Your father and Deirdre.” Ethan counted off on his fingers. “Callie’s dad and Lorena. Tom Arledge and Wilda.”

  A Cheshire cat grin lifting her plump cheeks, ErmaJean steepled her hands. “Love might find you, too, Glorieta.”

  The barbecue queen’s mouth went prim. “And just you remember, ErmaJean Hicks, that what goes around eventually comes around.”

  ErmaJean reared. “Me?”

  “Yeah, Grandma.” Ethan made room for Lucy as she crawled into his lap. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

  With reluctance, Kara rose. “I hate to call it a day, but I have to get the dough prepared for baking tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh, must you go already?” ErmaJean’s face fell. “I was hoping to trade recipes with Glorieta.”

  “Thank you so much for inviting me to lunch, Miss ErmaJean.” Kara caught her foster mom’s eye. “Mama G, you should really get on the road.”

  She’d put it off as long as she could. Dreading the moment Mama G went back to Durham. But she didn’t want the older woman driving home in the dark.

  “I’ve decided to stay in Truelove another week.” Glorieta didn’t stir from her chair. “If that’s okay with you, Kara Lynn?”

  Kara blinked. “I’d love to have you here, but aren’t you needed back home?”

  “My boys don’t need me looking over their shoulder. Besides—” Glorieta fluttered her hand “—I’m enjoying the clean mountain air, and ErmaJean’s invited me to become an honorary member of the Double Name Club. Hug me before you go. ErmaJean and I are going to talk turkey.”

  Kara hugged the stout older woman. “How will you get back to the motel?”

  “GeorgeAnne’s called a Citizens Concerned For Truelove meeting about something or other. I’ll drop Glorieta off on my way.” Rising, ErmaJean embraced Kara. The older lady smelled of cinnamon. “I hope this is the first of many social occasions in the future between our families, dear heart.”

  The twins were drooping. Amber and Ethan said their goodbyes, and took the girls inside for some quiet time.

  Leaving ErmaJean and Glorieta to debate the best way to cook a Thanksgiving turkey, Kara waved goodbye.

  Smiling, she made her way around the corner of the bungalow. Walking down the driveway to her car, her gaze drifted across the street to the well-kept, two-story house with the Dutch gambrel roof.

  The fire chief’s white SUV sat in the driveway next to what she guessed were their personal vehicles—a black pickup truck and a green Subaru.

  Chewing her lip, she got in her car. There was something she was missing about Maddox’s mother, but she didn’t know what. And she didn’t want to ask. She’d prefer Will tell her himself. If he wanted to.

  He was a great guy. A wonderful father. She sensed he’d make a good friend. Though the likelihood of that happening with his precarious job situation was not looking good.

  And the idea of not getting to know him depressed her more than it should. More than seemed reasonable for their limited acquaintance. But it made her sad she might never get the chance to know him better.

  Pulling away finally from the curb, she steered the car down the street and headed toward the café.

  Because as always, the best remedy for dealing with her loneliness was to get back into her safe haven, her refuge, her domain—the kitchen.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sunday afternoon found Will, his dad and Maddox relaxing on the screened porch off the backyard. At least, Will and Pops were trying to relax. Maddox had an agenda.

  “De kitty cat could be hungwy or firsty, Daddy.”

  Ready for a nap, Will settled deeper into the cushions on the swing. “I’m sure Miss Kara will make sure the cat doesn’t go hungry or thirsty.”

  “But she isn’t dere on Sundays.”

  Will closed his eyes. A few blessed ticks of silence. Then—

  “De kitty is lonely, Daddy. De kitty misses me.”

  More silence followed. And just when he thought himself home free—

  “Don’t you miss me when I’m not here, Daddy?”

  From the wicker settee, Pops chuckled. “Got you there.”

  Will opened his eyes.

  Maddox bounced on the tips of his shoes. “Pwease. Pwease, can we go see de kitty?”

  He had seldom seen Maddox so passionate. An animal lover, his son had been begging for a pet for his next birthday. Not a good idea with their future so uncertain. But if a quick visit to the stray might temporarily pacify Maddox...

  With a resigned sigh, Will swung his legs off the swing and stood up. “All right. Let’s go.”

  He helped Maddox climb into his booster seat in the truck. He pulled out of the driveway, noting Kara’s car was no longer parked at the curb across the street outside ErmaJean’s house.

  While waiting for Maddox and Pops to return from church, he’d seen her and the older African American lady arrive with Ethan’s family for lunch. Miss ErmaJean was no slouch in the kitchen. Whereas Will’s favorite thing to make for dinner was reservations.

  “Maybe Miss Karwa’s at de café.”

  Palming the wheel, he veered out of their neighborhood. “Then we don’t need to go feed the cat.” He glanced in the rearview mirror.

  Maddox’s lip protruded. “I want to see de kitty. I want to see Miss Karwa.”

  He headed toward downtown. “Miss Kara’s probably not at the Mason Jar.”

  She was probably at the house he’d heard she was renting from Wilda Arledge. He frowned. Yeah, curiosity killed the cat. But so what if he’d asked Pops? He wanted to know.

  “I wike Miss Karwa.” Maddox turned from his contemplation of the window. “Do
you wike Miss Karwa, Daddy?”

  His mouth went dry. He did. He liked her very much. Too much. And it scared him.

  Best thing he could do was to steer clear of her as much as possible. Easier said than done. In a town the size of Truelove, not an easy feat.

  Passing the empty school playground, Maddox perked in his seat. “I hope we see her.”

  A secret part of Will hoped so, too. Rounding the square, he caught sight of the blue sedan parked in front of the restaurant. His breath hitched.

  Looked like Maddox’s hope was about to be realized. He parked beside her vehicle. Maybe running into her like this was for the best.

  The petition thing had bothered him all night. He didn’t like the idea of her being ambushed. That wasn’t the way he operated. She deserved fair warning of what she was up against.

  He shut off the ignition. So that was what he’d do. Give her a heads-up and then stay far, far away from her.

  Pleased with his resolution, he climbed out. After collecting Maddox, they stepped up to the entrance. The front dining area looked dark. Déjà vu to their first encounter.

  “Miss Kara could be busy.”

  “Not too busy for me. She wikes me, Daddy.” Maddox waggled his eyebrows. “And if you’d stop fwowning at her, she’d wike you, too.”

  “I don’t frown at her.” He frowned.

  “Pops says—” the little boy deepened his voice “—you need to turn dat fwown upside down, mister.”

  He bit back a smile. Maddox had done a fair imitation of his grandfather’s gravelly tone. And yes, if Will had heard Pops say it once, he’d heard it a hundred times. Mom used to remark Will was too serious for his own good.

  Maddox grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. The bell jangled. A light shone through the cut-out window from the kitchen.

  “Hello?” Kara peered around the porthole door and flicked the light switch. “Oh.” She tilted her head. “Hi. It’s you.”

  She looked very professional in a white chef coat. And as irresistible as one of her chocolate éclairs. Suddenly shy, Maddox hung back against his side.

  He frowned. “The entrance should be locked when you’re here alone.”