At Home in His Heart

He glanced around but didn’t see the kid.

“She’s outside talking to a friend,” Sandi said, correctly interpreting the question in his eyes. She snagged a jar of peanut butter off a nearby shelf. “So are you still looking for a patch kit?”

“Actually—” Should he grab a bottle of orange juice and a carton of eggs to camouflage his intent? Naw. “I’m picking up stuff for museum repairs. Hitting the hardware store next.”

Although filled with disbelief, her eyes brightened. “Wow. Thank you. I didn’t expect you’d get to it quite this fast.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no. Not at all. Marking things off my checklist is never a problem.”

“I’m booked for the rest of the weekend assisting Trey at the equine center, so the repairs won’t happen overnight.”

“I understand. Totally.”

“Didn’t want your checklist waiting with bated breath—although I did take down the wasp’s nest first thing this morning.”

“You did?” Pleasure lit her face as she did that cute little head-tilt thing. Her smile sparkled with genuine appreciation.

Oh, man, she was looking up at him as if he was the king of the world. No wonder poor old Keith hadn’t stood a chance. When she wasn’t busy bossing you around, she was pumping up your ego until your shirt buttons popped off.

He grinned down at her, openly basking in the moment—just as he secretly had last night when she’d come mighty close to flirting with him a time or two. Told him he was a handy man to have around. But why was he lapping up her praise like some kind of parched desert critter? It wasn’t as if he’d never gotten attention from an attractive woman before.

Been plenty of those.

What made this any different?

He sobered, not sure he wanted an answer to that question. “Now you need to let me know if those wasps come back. They often try to rebuild a few times.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Just let me know.”

“All right.”

“Promise?”

She nodded again.

They stood looking at each other, just like last night when she’d marched up to him and demanded an explanation for his insensitive comment about musty rooms and dead people’s belongings.

Only this time she wasn’t mad at him.

But she would be if she knew what he was thinking. Old Bryce for sure. He cleared his throat and shifted the groceries in his arms. “Let me take this stuff up front for you.”

“Thanks. I need to get Gina home and fed.”

He followed her, resolutely keeping his gaze focused anywhere but on Sandi. Only a couple of days and he was already starting to think stupidly. Act stupidly. Probably had a goofy look on his face, too.

Just like the one Keith had.

But she was a woman no sane man would take more than a passing glance at if he had a mind of his own. Didn’t want to be ordered around like some wet-behind-the-ears army recruit for the rest of his life.

It looked as if he’d better do his museum repairs during closing hours—when Sandi was off the premises.

Chapter Four

“Mommy, tell me about the time Daddy took me to see the guinea pigs at the pet shop.”

Sandi pulled her thoughts from the latest encounter with Bryce Harding—he’d already taken down the wasp nest—and wrapped her dripping-wet daughter in a big fluffy towel.

“I’ll tell you about the guinea pigs while we eat supper, okay?”

Gina had been asking for daddy stories ever since they’d left Meg’s. Apparently Davy’s tales of all the things he and his father had done since Joe’s return from the navy last year had sparked her own need for a renewed connection to the man she didn’t remember. She’d already been told the guinea pig story on the way home, but now she demanded it again. When you were only a year old when your daddy died, there weren’t that many stories to choose from.

A heaviness settled into Sandi’s chest as she finished drying Gina and got her into her pajamas. It was still daylight, but with the fresh air and hard play it was evident Gina would be ready for bed soon after they ate. And sure enough, a small bowl of soup and half a sandwich later she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Tucked into bed at Bradshaws-in-the-Pines—as Keith had dubbed their house trailer in keeping with local custom—Gina was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

No more daddy stories tonight.

Busy days ahead, though, so tomorrow after church they’d both rest. Monday was Memorial Day and, except for her two-hour afternoon slot at the museum, she’d promised the whole day to Gina. Parade. Petting zoo. Face painting. The works.

Just as she pulled her daughter’s bedroom door closed, her cell phone rang and she hurried to the kitchen, where she’d left it on the counter.

“Hi, doll,” a warm female voice greeted her. “Happy belated birthday.”

“Thanks, Sharon.” Envisioning her friend Kara’s mother, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, she flipped off the glaring overhead kitchen light then strolled into the shadowed living area of the open floor-planned space.

“How’d things go for your birthday dinner last night?”

“Pretty good. Devon was there, so that helped. Thanks for the prayers.” She sat down on the sofa and stretched out socked feet to rest on the coffee table. “It’s always hard when LeAnne first comes back for the summer, but after a few weeks it will be okay.”

“I know you’ve grown closer through the years.”

“I think the world of her. But I wish I wouldn’t always remember how she never wanted Keith to marry me in the first place. I still can’t seem to shake that.”

Nor could she shake off the certainty that her mother-in-law had been right. She hadn’t deserved Keith. Wasn’t worthy of him. But she’d never spoken aloud that conviction—and why she believed it—to anyone. Ever.

“Now stop that right now. It doesn’t matter what Keith’s mom did or didn’t want. What’s important is what Keith wanted. And he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.”

“Guess he did that all right, huh?” She gripped the phone tighter. “The remaining two years of it anyway.”

Had she only known Keith four years—and most of that long distance? And only been married to him barely two of those?

“Doll, am I going to have to come over there tonight and—”

“No, no.” Sandi laughed, picturing Sharon clomping into the room on her walker to pull her into a big bear hug and give her a good chewing out. “I’m not going to lower myself into a pity-party pit. I promise.”

“Good. Now get yourself into a bubble bath with a good book. The opening hurdle with your mother-in-law is behind you.”