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

“Oh, my granddaughter will see to that.” There was no want, no coveting in Nanna’s clear eyes as she smiled.

Hope ached for her grandmother. Harold seemed as if he liked Nanna, and Hope fought disappointment as she took Nanna’s hand.

“She looks too tired.” Matthew appeared at Hope’s side, his strong warm presence unmistakable. “Nora, come lean on me.”

So it was with gratitude that she followed Matthew up the stairs as he cradled Nanna in his arms. The bedroom windows were open to the sun, and the lace curtains fluttered in cadence with the wind. The distant sounds of small boys’ laughter and the hum of engines sounded merry and seemed to fill the lonely old house with a welcome joy.

Hope tugged down the top sheet and stepped back so Matthew could lower Nanna onto the mattress with tender care. Hope’s chest swelled with more than gratefulness and she turned away as a warmth that had nothing to do with appreciation spilled into her veins.

“Bless you, Matthew.” Easing back into her pillows, Nanna pressed her lips together to hide a moan of pain. Kirby rushed in with noontime medication and a glass of water to wash down the collection of pills.

Matthew took the older woman’s aged hand in his and squeezed gently. “You take it easy now and rest. I can’t thank you enough for allowing my boys to stay.”

Nanna’s eyes glistened. “They made this place feel happy, like it used to when my children were young. I can’t tell you what it did for this old heart of mine.”

Matthew eased back to give Kirby room to work, and Hope followed him into the narrow hallway, which was warm from the heat of the day. Feelings she couldn’t name fought for recognition in her heart as she struggled with the locked window at the end of the hall. It wouldn’t budge.

“Let me.” Matthew’s arm brushed hers as he took over, efficiently manhandling the stubborn old lock and lifting the equally obstinate wooden window.

The heat from his brief touch lingered on the outside of her arm and didn’t go away, even when she stepped farther back, even when she rubbed at the spot on her arm. Was it her loneliness making her feel this way? She didn’t like it, not one bit.

“Harold’s going to go ahead with the finishing work. He’s excellent at it.” As if he felt it, too, Matthew backed away, creating distance between them, and his gaze locked on hers, warm and intimate.

Way too intimate. Panic leaped to life inside her. “I’m glad you’re leaving the boys for the rest of the afternoon.”

“It looks like you’re managing.” He caught hold of the banister and hesitated. “I’d like to stop by and check on my mom.”

“Why don’t you give her a call from here, and if she’s still under the weather, I’ll send home some food for her, so she doesn’t have to cook tonight. The refrigerator is packed, thanks to your thoughtful words to the pastor.”

“That’s what friends are for.” He tossed her a slow grin, one that lit up the hazel twinkles in his eyes.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

“Why not, it’s better than being enemies, or adversaries or afraid of the matchmaking women in our lives.”

The confusion coiled in her chest eased. Yes, they were friends. And there was nothing she would like more. Friends were safe. Friends didn’t demand a vulnerable part of your heart.

“Speaking of our matchmaking relatives, I’m going to need your help.” She swept past him, careful not to brush against him, and skipped down the stairs. “I’m going to make a list of all the eligible men in your mom’s age group. I don’t know what to do about Harold. I know Nanna is still interested in him, but Helen is her best friend. That’s the way Nanna is, and I love her for it. So we’ll have to find her someone as nice.”

“That’s going to be hard.” Matthew’s step echoed in the kitchen behind her. “Look.”

Hope eased the screen door open to get a better view of Harold running in the calf-high grass, arms spread, making airplane noises with his three great grandsons.

“I think we should leave it up to the Lord.” Matthew’s grin broadened, and he was handsome enough to make Hope’s senses spin.

Somehow she managed to speak. “What about Helen?”

“’And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love Him.’” Matthew splayed both hands on the porch rail and squinted through the sun to watch Harold dive-bomb Ian, then pretend to have engine trouble and drop to the ground. The boys giggled. “We’ll let Him work it out. Whatever’s meant to happen will. I have a suggestion, though.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“I think Nora might be happy if Harold refinished every last one of her cabinets. Think how shiny and new they’d look.”

“I like the way you think.” Let Harold and Nanna spend time alone in this house, and if they were meant to be together, then the Lord would work it out in His own way. “Consider refinished cabinets my treat to Nanna. How about new linoleum and countertops?”

“I’m miraculously booked up, but I bet Harold might do it.”

“Then we have a deal.” She sidled up next to him at the porch rail, leaving enough space so their elbows wouldn’t brush, and it felt good having a friend in Matthew.

She felt different, better than she could ever remember feeling.

Chapter Seven

The sun slanted low in the sky and thunderheads were gathering on the horizon in tall pillars of angry clouds by the time Matthew headed his pickup down Nora Greenley’s drive. The tires crunched in the gravel, and the warm breeze from the open window blew against his face. It wasn’t hot enough for air-conditioning yet, and with the approaching storm, the dusty air felt muggy.

He rounded the last corner and Nora’s old white farmhouse rolled into view, a sprinkler casting arcs of water across the front lawn. The shade trees shivered in the gentle breezes as he pulled to a stop in the graveled area in front of the detached garage. He cut the engine, and the familiar sound of his sons’ laughter came distant but welcome.

So, Hope had survived the threesome after all. Warmth gathered in his chest, an emotion he couldn’t name as he hopped from the truck and strode down the garden path. The rich scents of pollen, blooming plants and new roses felt as mellow as the late afternoon light.

He rounded the corner of the house and stopped in his tracks at the sight of his boys racing around on the back lawn, squealing whenever Hope hit one of them with a blast from the garden hose. Drenched, Ian darted one way, Kale the other, and Josh got hit full-force in the stomach.

“It’s cold!” he shrieked, face pink with delight.

“Catch me, Hope!” Ian waved both hands, then took off running the instant she turned the nozzle toward him. With a shout, Ian hopped away from the cold water jet, laughing as Hope took off after him, hose snaking in the grass behind her. Water sprayed over him, drenching him from head to toe.

“Gotcha!” Hope called victoriously, then quick as a whip shot water at Kale, who wasn’t expecting it.

“Run, Kale, run!” Ian urged, and the three took off toward the garden gate, trying to outdistance the arcing geyser that was quickly catching up to them.

Then Josh spotted him. “Daddy! Daddy!”

“Daddy!” They headed toward him talking at once, their bare chests glistening in the warm sun and their brown locks sluicing water as they ran.

“Hope sprinkled us with the hose and not the grass,” Ian shouted over his brothers. “It’s real cold. We want pizza.”

“Pizza, pizza!” the other two demanded.

“You boys have food on the brain.” Matthew knelt down as they launched toward him and didn’t mind their wet hugs one bit. “Ready to head home?”

“Is Hope comin’, too?” Kale wanted to know.

“Hope has to stay here with her grandmother.” Matthew stood, and the tiny hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickled when Hope padded close.

“I sure had a lot of fun with you three today.” She’d rescued their shirts from the porch railing, and she held them out now. “Let me run inside and grab some towels. I’m afraid I got your boys a little wet.”

“They’re sweet, but they won’t melt. Already tried it.” He winked, and he liked the smile that shaped her face. His fingers brushed hers as he took the shirts, and for the life of him he couldn’t stop looking at her.

She simply glowed, out of breath from chasing his boys, dripping wet, her hair tumbling in thick shanks, and he wanted to pull her close to him. To take her in his arms and hold her, simply hold her, as if her brightness could chase away the shadows inside him and make right every wrong in his world.