Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl: Heaven Sent / His Hometown Girl

“So, you are worried about your reputation, after all.”

“You bet, buddy. Guess what your mother will assume if you tell her that you got a good glance at my bare knee?”

“It’s not a bad knee,” he confessed, but before she could answer Kirby stepped into sight and whispered something to Hope.

Alarm spread across Hope’s face, chasing away the smile until only worry remained. “I have to go, Matthew.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Hope’s gaze latched onto his, filling with tears. “She’s in a lot of pain, and the doctor isn’t certain that the fracture is healing. Prayer would be a help.”

“You’ve got it.” Chest tight, Matthew watched her spin with a flick of her ponytail, and she was gone. Leaving him feeling both lonelier and more alive than he’d been in what felt like a lifetime.

At sixteen minutes before noon, Hope heard a car rumble down the long gravel drive. Patsy Sheridan climbed out into the brisk spring sunshine and, leaving the triplets belted into their car seats, carried a steaming casserole to the front door.

She’d handed the meal over to Kirby before Hope could make it downstairs, but the gratefulness washing over her didn’t diminish after Patsy’s car drove out of sight.

Later, flowers arrived and cakes and Helen brought supper by, a potluck favorite that was always the first to go at the church’s picnics, according to Kirby.

As the dusk came, bringing shadows and evening light, Hope knew that in all her travels, all the places she’d been and photographed, home was here in Montana, in this small town where neighbors took care of one another.

She knew who to thank. Matthew Sheridan had spread the word of Nanna’s relapse. And she owed him the world.

Chapter Six

“Is that Matthew’s truck?” Nanna leaned toward the edge of the bed, fighting to see out the window.

“Hey, careful.” Hope gently caught Nanna’s elbow. “All we need for you is to fall and break another bone.”

“I may have broken my leg, but I’m not fragile.” Nanna nodded with satisfaction as Matthew’s dark red pickup gleamed in the sun in the driveway below. “At least, not anymore. This bone will heal, or else. I’ve lost nearly a week in this room, and it’s time to get a move on.”

“Just remember what your doctor said, Nanna.” Hope reached for the hairbrush and knelt on the floor, gently swiping the smooth-bristled brush through Nanna’s soft cloud of gray hair. “Want me to braid this for you?”

“I’d love it, dear heart. I’m in a festive mood, as long as young Matthew Sheridan can get my cabinets right.”

Hope bit her lip so she wouldn’t smile. Fretting over the cabinetry work might give Nanna something to think about other than her injury. “I don’t know if I’d trust Matthew. He’s one of the only carpenters in town. Without much competition, how good can he be?”

Nanna’s eyes sparkled. “So, you like him, do you?”

“Keep dreaming.”

“A girl’s got to try.” Nanna fell silent, allowing Hope to part and braid her hair, then finish the thick French braid with a cheerful pink bow.

As Hope pulled a comfortable pair of clean pajamas from the bottom bureau drawer, the sound of a second vehicle coming up the driveway drew their attention.

Nanna tipped sideways again. “Goodness, that looks like—”

“Harold.” Hope couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched the distinguished-looking older man climb from a restored 1950s forest-green pickup. A carpenter’s belt hung at his waist as he headed for the back door, his deep voice carrying as he greeted Matthew.

Was this what Matthew had tried to tell her on the phone the night she’d been so abrupt with him? Hope leaned against the window frame and felt the sun warm her face. In the yard below, Matthew and Harold appeared, talking jovially as they unloaded the heavy wood pieces from the back of Matthew’s truck.

The sun gilded Matthew’s powerful frame and heaven knew, she shouldn’t be noticing. A tingle zinged down her spine, and a yearning she’d never felt before opened wide in her heart.

“There’s no way I’m going downstairs in these.” Nanna’s two-piece cotton pajamas landed with a thunk on the end of the bed.

Hope turned from the window. “Nanna, have you ever thought about falling in love again?”

“Goodness, child, a woman my age doesn’t waste what’s left of her days wishing for romance. You have the greatest happiness life has to offer ahead of you. Marriage and children. Now don’t lie to me, you have to want children.”

Hope felt the warmth inside her wither and fade at the word marriage. Her stomach burned at the memory of exactly what that word meant to her, the old ulcer always remembering. Endless battles, bitter unhappiness and her parents’ habitual neglect of her.

She tried to put the memory aside of the unhappy child hiding in the dark hallway, listening to the hurtful words her parents hurled at each other as if they were grenades. Fearful that this argument would be the one to drive Dad away.

And it reminded her of her own attempt at marriage, ended before it began. And her stomach felt as if it had caught fire. No, she wouldn’t think about the time she was foolish enough to think that love could be real for her.

Determined to distract herself, Hope paced the sunny room. “Where’s the shorts set I bought for you when we took that cruise last summer?”

“Try the drawer chest, second to the bottom.”

Sure enough, the soft blue-and-pink print knit shorts and top were folded amid Nanna’s summer wear, surrounded by sachets of sweet honeysuckle. As she helped her grandmother into the clothes, she wished Matthew had told her he’d invited Harold over.

Kirby tapped down the hall and into the room and together they carried Nanna downstairs. “No, the garden,” she insisted when they tried to situate her in the living room. “I need to feel the warmth of the sun on these old bones.”

“Let me help.” Matthew strode into the room like a myth—all power, steel and hero. He lifted Nanna into his strong arms, cradling her against his chest. “Nora, it’s been a long time since I’ve held such a beautiful woman in my arms.”

“That’s a line you ought to use on my granddaughter, not on an old woman like me.”

“I’m partial to older women.”

Now I’m going to have to like him. Really, really like him, Hope thought as she held open the wooden framed screen door for Matthew. I’ve run completely out of excuses.

There was no turning back her feelings, especially when he set Nanna onto the shaded, wrought-iron bench with the same care he showed his sons. Tender, gentle, kind, he grabbed one of the matching chairs and drew it close. Watching him made that tingle zing down Hope’s spine again.

No doubt about it, she was in trouble now. As she accepted the pillows Kirby had thought to fetch, she tried not to look at him, but he drew her attention like dawn to the sun.

“Are you going to give me that last pillow?” His mouth curved into a one-sided grin as she handed it over. “I’ll have you ladies know that this service is entirely free. It won’t show up on the bill.”

“You’re a real bargain.” Hope tried to sound light but failed as he laid the pillow on the seat of a chair and lifted Nanna’s leg into place.

Their gazes met and Hope heard the morning breezes loud in her ears. Awareness shot down her spine again.

His slow grin broadened. “I’ve been told that before. I never overcharge.” He stood, towering over her, casting her in shadow. “But I do accept tips. Cash or baked goods.”

He was kidding, but Hope couldn’t smile. Kirby arrived with Nanna’s Bible, reading glasses and the cordless phone.

They were shooed away by the old woman who thought she was matchmaking by sending them off to be together. “Take your time, Matthew. I don’t need the cabinets today.”

Hope shook her head, taking the lead down the garden path. “Sure, she’s been fretting over the cabinets all week.”