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

“Been busy.” Hope sat on the edge of the mattress.

“Too busy to eat? You work too much. What is it with young girls these days? You should eat, enjoy life, indulge a little.”

“Is that what you do, Nanna?”

“Why, it’s one of the secrets to a happy life.” Trouble twinkled in dark eyes. “I saw your last book. It’s absolutely beautiful. Not everyone has the God given talent to take pictures the way you do.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Hope watched her grandmother’s weathered hands lift the hardcover book from the nightstand. “I worked hard on it.”

“Love always shows.” Nanna’s fingers traced her name on the cover, in gold. “It’s good work that you do, using your pictures to remind us all the beauty God gives us in each and every day. But work isn’t everything in life, remember that.”

“You’ve told me that about a billion times.” Trying to avoid a well-worn subject, Hope pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s cheek. “You get your rest. We have all tomorrow to talk.”

“And what a fine day it will be because you’ve come home.” Nanna returned the kiss. Her fingers held tight and would not let go. “I’ve missed my Hope.”

“Not half as much as I’ve missed you.” A love so sharp it hurt edged into her heart. Hope didn’t move away, not until after Grandmother sipped her chamomile tea, whispered her prayers and closed her eyes. Not until sleep claimed Nanna and she was lost in dreams of happier times.

Hope sat in the dark for a long while and watched Nanna sleep. The lightning returned. Rain beat against the window and drummed on the roof, but they were safe from the storm and never alone.

Chapter Two

Hope Ashton. Matthew couldn’t get her out of his mind. Not when he’d gone to sleep and not now that the first pink light of morning was teasing the darkness from the sky.

He hadn’t recognized her at first glance. She’d softened, grown taller, changed from girl to woman. But that graceful elegance was still there in the fall of her dark hair, in the rich timbre of her alto voice and in every lithe, careful movement she made.

The phone rang, and he turned from the kitchen sink, nearly tripping over a little boy who wasn’t quite as tall as his knee. “Whoa, there, Josh. Look where you’re going.”

The little boy tilted his head all the way back. “Goin’ to Gramma’s?”

“Almost.” He wove around an identical little boy. “Ian, stop eyeing the cookie jar.”

“I still hungry, Daddy.”

“Hungry? You ate four whole pancakes.” He ruffled the boy’s dark hair and intentionally turned him away from the counter as the phone continued to ring.

He dodged another identical little boy and snatched up the receiver.

“Matthew? I got your message.” It was Zach from the garage. “Got the belt you asked for right here. What happened? That truck of yours leave you stranded?”

“You wish.”

“Hey, I’m thinking of my profits,” the only mechanic in town teased.

“Nothing like that. I came across Hope Ashton last night, broke down in the middle of that storm. You remember her, don’t you?”

There was a moment of silence, then Zach gasped. “Tall, slender, pretty. Nora’s granddaughter. Sure, I remember. Is she back in town? Why don’t I run the belt out to the Greenley place—”

“Her Jeep’s broken down on the highway south of town.”

“Then I’ll warm up the tow truck and bring it in.”

“You can’t miss it. Bright red, brand-new model about four miles out.” Matthew felt his stomach tighten, as if he didn’t like the idea of Zach giving Hope a hand and he couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was his conscience.

Sure, the woman troubled him, stirred up all sorts of emotions. He knew he was out of her league—which wasn’t why he wanted to help. It didn’t sit right backing away now. He liked to see things to the end.

Matthew heard silence and peeked around the doorway into the kitchen. “Ian, stay away from the counter. Go put on your shoes like your brothers.”

The little urchin hesitated, tossed him an innocent grin, then dashed away to join his brothers at the table. Matthew headed down the center hallway and to the front door, careful to keep an eye and an ear on his sons.

“Hope Ashton, huh?” Zach laughed at that. “It’ll be something to see her again. I bet she’s still a knockout.”

“Yep.” She was pretty, all right. Model-good looks but there was a girl-next-door freshness to her. A freshness he didn’t remember seeing in the unhappy rich girl he’d gone to school with.

Matthew ended the call, checked on the three boys busily pulling on shoes in the corner of the kitchen and went in search of his work boots. He sat down on the bottom step to tug them on.

Morning was his favorite time as the sun rose, so bold and bright. The world was waking up, the birds’ songs brand-new and the breeze as soft as a whisper. Peace filled him for a moment, and then he heard a loud crash coming from directly behind him—the kitchen.

That was his two seconds of peace for the day. He took off at a dead run. Six strides took him into the kitchen where he saw his three sons standing in a half circle.

“Josh did it, Daddy!” Kale pointed. “He climbed up on the chair and dropped the cookies.”

“They smashed all over the floor!” Ian looked pleased.

Josh’s head was bowed, his hands clasped together as he whispered a prayer.

Matthew saw the shattered cookies and stoneware littered all over the clean floor and the pitcher of grape juice at Ian’s feet. The refrigerator door stood open and a chair from the table was butted up against the cabinets. He remembered to count to ten.

“We got real hungry.” Ian rubbed at a juice stain on his crisp white T-shirt.

“Real hungry,” Kale added.

Josh took one look at the floor and bowed his head again. “The cookie jar’s still broken, God.”

Since he was short on time, Matthew decided to ignore for now the purple stains splattered on his kitchen floor, nudged the refrigerator door shut and grabbed the broom from the corner. “You boys step back. Careful of those sharp pieces.”

“Daddy, it’s all Josh’s fault.” Ian tugged on Matthew’s jeans, transferring the grape juice from those little fingers onto the clean denim above Matthew’s knee.

“Somehow I doubt Josh did this all by himself.” He laid his hand against the flat of Ian’s back and eased him away from the broken stoneware shards. “Any owies I should know about?”

“There ain’t no blood nowhere,” Ian announced.

But there was grape juice spattered all over the little boy who’d obviously been the one to try to heft the full pitcher from the refrigerator shelf and failed.

One thing was clear. He couldn’t go on like this. He needed a new housekeeper or he’d never get off to work on time. “Into the truck. C’mon. Step around the mess, Ian.”

“Sorry, Daddy.” The oldest triplet looked angelic as he stopped his sneaker in midair, about to crunch right through the cookies and shattered pottery.

He caught Ian by the shoulder, Kale by the arm and was grateful for Josh who clambered after them, muttering an amen to end his prayer. The mess would wait. The boys would have to change at Mom’s.