by Dora Hiers
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PRAISE FOR DORA’S BOOKS
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
KEY VERSE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
EPILOGUE
BONUS PREVIEW A TIME TO BUILD
BONUS PREVIEW FULLY INVOLVED
ABOUT DORA HIERS
OTHER BOOKS BY DORA HIERS
Praise for Dora Hiers
“This story is a great way to get in the Christmas mood - or just to give yourself a shot of heartwarming, sweet romance, in case it's not Christmas time when you read it :-)” ~ An Avid Reader on Christmas on Mistletoe Mountain
“Every now and then I will read a book that has me clocking extra miles on my treadmill and elliptical, A Marshal’s Secret was one of those books. From the start, I was sucked into this page-turning, suspense filled book. The chemistry between Avery Derose and Marshal Trent Burdine was off the charts!” ~ Jill Weatherholt, author of Second Chance Romance and A Father for Bella
“I enjoyed this story quite a bit! I am married to a Fire Captain, so much of the story rang true! The stress and the heartbreak on the job, the need to have someone to come home to. The camaraderie between the crew was special as well. I also understood Cammie’s worries and concerns- about her job, about him, and about the importance of helping others become stronger, better people.” ~ Patricia on Fully Involved
A TIME TO HEAL
Copyright © 2019 by Dora Hiers
Published by Grace Legacy Publishing
Cover Art by German Creative
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means without written permission from Dora Hiers or Grace Legacy Publishing, except for including brief quotations in reviews along with proper acknowledgement. Unauthorized duplication and/or distribution is illegal. eBook editions may not be copied, resold or given away. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Contact information: [email protected]
Join my newsletter family!
Published by Grace Legacy Publishing LLC
First Edition, 2019
Published in the United States of America
Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™
Dedication
To you.
If the sea’s threatening to swallow you whole
If the flames have you trapped, terrorizing, licking and snarling,
when any way you turn offers no way out
Until choosing death seems infinitely less painful than slogging through life…
Don’t. Just don’t.
Choose life.
Every day becomes a little easier.
Every sunrise dawns a little brighter.
Every sunset dims the agony.
Every day becomes a little less painful. Until one day…
You realize the despair has lifted. That life is worth the living. That those circumstances have changed. That you have changed.
…Choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to His voice, and hold fast to Him. For the Lord is your life, and He will give you many years in the land He swore to give to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Deuteronomy 30:19:20
Choose life. Choose God.
To the ones left behind.
Death was their choice, not yours.
You can’t change your loved one’s decision, but you’re the one left behind to live with the consequences. The whispers. The pointed stares. The condemnation. The judgment.
Every single day.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life,
neither angels nor demons,
neither the present nor the future, nor any powers,
neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39
You don’t have to live under that dark cloud of death.
Choose love and life. Joy and peace. Sunshine and laughter.
Healing and freedom from the chains that shackle you.
Choose God.
“In God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?”
Ps 56:11
1
“You gotta move if you want to eat, Jumbo.”
Remi Lambright nudged the curious four-hundred-pound llama out of the way with her shoulder and tossed the bale of hay into the pasture at Forever Family Animal Sanctuary.
Jumbo munched on the hay, staring at her with huge chestnut colored eyes and lashes that most females would envy. At least his long ears pointed up, and he wasn’t sounding his shrill alarm. Always a good sign with this cantankerous male.
“Sorry. That’s it for chow, big guy.” She patted his rump then made her way to the water bucket, sliding her gloves off and tucking them into the back pocket of her jeans.
She lifted the hose and turned the spigot, waiting until fresh water flowed over her hand before directing it into the trough. She shut off the water and straightened.
Five male llamas huddled together, their satisfied chomping noises breaking the early morning stillness, a cool breeze ruffling their fiber.
“Time to visit the little ladies. See you later, guys.” She cranked the four-wheeler, drove into the female territory, and unloaded another bale.
As fifteen creatures lumbered her way, she scanned the crowd, searching for one particular animal. Where was Snickers?
A groan sounded from near the fence line. Ah, there she was, the shyest of her herd and the sanctuary’s newest ward.
Snickers sniffed the ground then paced a few yards, dipped her long neck in a jerky motion, and moaned again. She plunked on the grass and rolled, but that didn’t last long. With awkward movements, she got back on her feet and rubbed her head against the combination wood and wire fence.
Poor thing. The expectant mama couldn’t get comfortable.
A bud of anticipation bloomed in Remi’s tummy. This delivery would be her first experience with a cria birth.
“What’s the matter, girl?” Remi spoke softly as she stepped closer to the beautiful silky.
Since Snickers had arrived just a few days ago, already several months pregnant, Remi had scoured the Internet for articles on llama births. With her degree in Veterinary Technology, she could probably handle a normal delivery on her own, but what if Snickers experienced complications?
A chilly North Carolina breeze picked up, swirling dust and bits
of straw through the air. Branches of the majestic maple trees bordering the property and haphazardly dotting the lawn swayed in tune with the gentle wind, autumn’s multi-colored leaves drifting to join the dance.
Remi tugged her sweater tighter against her chest, humming quietly as she inched closer. Should she try to entice Snickers to the shelter, out of the wind?
“Come on, sweet mama, you can do this.”
The six-foot animal lumbered back and forth, cutting the same path across the pasture. A couple minutes passed with more moans from Snickers, growing louder and more urgent, but still no sign of the baby.
If Remi was in labor and obviously struggling, she would want a qualified professional on hand to deliver the baby.
Well, that wasn’t happening anytime soon, so why would she allow her brain to wander down that lonely road?
She shook her head. She couldn’t put Snickers and the cria at risk by not having a veterinarian around for the delivery.
She slid her phone out of her pocket and connected with the vet’s office.
“Dr. Randolph’s office.”
“Hi, Judy. It’s Remi Lambright. Is Corbin in this morning?” Please say yes.
“Hey, Remi. No, Doc Corbin hasn’t been in yet this morning. He left word that he had an emergency over at the Whitman farm. I’m not sure when to expect him. Do you need him at your place?”
Remi grimaced. She didn’t need him. She needed a vet.
She’d learned at the delicate age of ten not to depend on a man. When her father—
Jumbo lumbered over to the fence and rubbed his nose against Remi’s shoulder, almost knocking the phone out of her hand. She fumbled to keep her grip while he raised his neck and bared his bottom teeth, flashing a giant llama grin.
Aww. He was trying to cheer her up, the big lug. She smiled, grateful for the sweetie, even if he was a bit of a troublemaker.
But he needed a home, a family, and that’s why he was here. So he wouldn’t be destroyed.
She was tucked way out in the country, far enough away from the big city of Charlotte and secluded from the public’s prying eyes and insatiable appetites for gossip, for the same reason.
So she wouldn’t be destroyed.
Animals didn’t let you down like people did. But it sure would be nice if a man besides her brother or stepfather would show up when she needed him. Didn’t look like that would happen today.
Snickers moaned again.
Remi twisted her head to glance at the back end of the pregnant female. Still no sign of the baby yet.
“It looks like Snickers plans to have her cria today, but the little one’s not cooperating. I could use a vet, Judy. Whether that’s Corbin or his on-call doc, I don’t care. Please just get somebody out here to the sanctuary.”
Remi disconnected and headed into the barn. It wouldn’t hurt to gather some supplies, just in case.
****
“Tell me again why I drove thirty minutes to the middle of nowhere on my first day off in months?” Gravel crunched under Mason Mulrennan’s sneakers as he tossed his sunglasses on the dash and unfolded himself from the tiny sports car, a phone cradled against his ear.
He slid the seat forward and Goliath, his golden retriever, hopped from the back seat and scampered off to sniff the grassy yard.
“Because you’re my brother and I asked you to.” Exhaustion laced his sister’s voice, and he almost regretted teasing her. Almost. But he knew she wouldn’t be easy to live with for the next three months. Six months pregnant and already experiencing early labor signs, Angela’s doctor had just ordered extended bed rest. She didn’t enjoy sitting still, so how would she handle bed rest for that long?
Mason gave his head a little shake, feeling a twinge of sympathy for his brother-in-law, but easygoing Mike would take Angela’s hormonal mood swings in stride. He couldn’t have handpicked a better husband for his sister. She’d done well.
Much better than his choice for a lifelong partner. Look how that had turned out. He blew out a heavy sigh.
“You got me on a technicality.” He glanced around for some indication that he was on the right farm. A faded sign— Forever Family Animal Sanctuary —hung on the front of a huge red barn. “What’s the name of the place again?”
Computer keys clacked in the background. “Forever Family Animal Sanctuary.”
“Okay. Just confirming. Looks like I’m at the right place.”
His gaze lingered on the ancient dwelling not too far from the barn. An appealing name for the sanctuary, maybe, but the rough abode needed a lot of work on the outside to call it a home. Did the owner really live in a converted stable?
With arms folded and the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, he lounged against the car, keeping an eye on the wandering dog. The animal sanctuary might be in the middle of nowhere, but at least the place had a decent-sized barn and acres of lush green pasture.
Goliath sniffed along a fence line on the far side of the barn. What were those funny looking animals in the enclosure?
Mason leaned away from the car, angling around to get a better look, squinting against the glare of the bright sunlight.
Were those llamas? Cool! In all his travels, he’d never seen a llama up close. He’d make sure to snap a picture of them before he left.
“Besides, this is your baby.” His sister’s voice snagged his attention again.
“Not quite, Angela,” he sputtered. He knew what she meant, though. Angela handled the day-to-day operations of the Mason Mulrennan Foundation, a charitable organization he founded to raise funds dedicated to the protection of animals.
“You know I didn’t mean that literally, Mason.” Amusement accentuated her North Carolina drawl. “But I warned you when I first found out I was pregnant that you might have to handle the foundation’s urgent needs for a time.”
“Yes, you did, but—”
“Of course, when I said that I was thinking about after the baby was born. Not three months before delivery. But you know I’ll do what I can from home.” Her voice quivered.
“I know, Angela. We’ll make this work. No worries. You just concentrate on staying healthy for the baby’s sake. Let me take care of this.”
His sister was an excellent administrator, and their arrangement worked. He left the organization’s routine management up to her while she consulted him about controversial or high-ticket items. But, if something happened to him on the track, she was in charge, and he completely trusted her decisions. It was past time he showed her how much he appreciated her. That would start today, with taking care of this visit so she could cross this last item off her “must take care of before the baby” list.
“Thanks, Mason.” She sniffled and blew her nose. When she continued, her voice grew stronger. “I emailed all the grant applicants to let them know about the delay, but from the sounds of this grant request, it appeared as if the need for funds was rather immediate.”
“Immediate isn’t in my vocabulary.” He glanced sideways at the petite makeshift house again and scowled. The entire footprint would fit into his living room.
Maybe he could make an exception in this case.
“It is when you’re strapped in that racecar running a hundred and eighty miles per hour and you see that black and white checkered flag waving in front of you.”
“You got that right.” He chuckled. “I can’t deny that, Angela, but we’re not talking racing. Fans place their trust in us when they donate their hard-earned money to our organization. I like to mull over these decisions, pray—”
“Well, it’s about time you showed up, Doc. Let’s get this party started. I don’t think it will be long now.” A clear voice tinkled to caress his ear. Not Angela’s, and it didn’t come from the phone.
His head jerked sideways, and he fumbled with the phone, almost dropping it. He hoisted himself away from the car in one swift movement.
No. That sweet angelic voice belonged to a leggy jean-clad female who emerged from the
barn, long brown hair floating off her back with the gentle breeze, arms weighted down with more stuff than a woman should rightfully be toting around. Not when a man was around to handle the load.
She angled her cowgirl hat toward the fenced enclosure next to the barn, where Goliath dug his snout into the ground, sniffing. “Snickers is right over here.”
“Look, Angela, I have to go. I’ll call you when I’m done here.” He disconnected and caught up with the cowgirl.
He bobbed his head once, acknowledging her, and held out his arms. “Let me carry that for you.”
She squinted at him, an odd expression taking over her smooth ivory face, but finally surrendered the load. Why was she carting around a ton of towels and blankets? And why the strange look?
“Not too often I see a car like that out here.” Cowgirl flicked her head to his sports car.
“No?” She probably didn’t see too many cars out here, period, but he didn’t say that.
She opened the gate and shook her head, flashing a pair of awfully cute dimples. She hitched her hat up with a slight flick of her wrist, and a glimpse of amber highlights sparkling from luscious green eyes caught him off guard.
Whoa! If he wasn’t careful, he could get lost in those eyes, but he aimed to be careful. His ex-wife, Lisa, had taught him all about love and money. Mainly, that a woman loved money, not necessarily the man that came with it.
“Most everybody around here drives trucks of some sort, or rides horses, not little beauties like that.”
Cowgirl crouched and stroked Goliath’s soft fur around his head, her short fingernails scratching the length of the dog’s neck. “What a sweetie!” she crooned.
Goliath raised his snout high in the air as a soft guttural sound came from his throat.
A familiar longing lurched to life in Mason’s gut. For someone to call him by a special name, with love shining from her eyes, instead of dollar signs. For feminine fingers to knead the tight muscles from his achy shoulders after a long day at the track.
