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

“No problem.” He tipped his hat, a polite gesture. “Well, I better get going. Don’t want to be late for my first committee meeting.”

“You’re on the planning committee?”

“My mom talked me into it this morning. She extorted me, is more like it.” A wry grin touched his mouth as he took a step toward the open door. “She’s taking care of my sons, so I’m in a bind and she knows it. It’s a shame when you can’t trust your own mother.”

“Or grandmother.” Hope hated that she had to follow him toward the gaping door. A bad feeling settled hard in her stomach, the kind that foretold disaster.

“What does that mean?” he asked. Sunlight brushed him with a golden glow, highlighting the wary slant to his eyes. The wry grin faded from his mouth. “You don’t think my mom and your grandmother—”

“I sure hope not, but at this point do we give them the benefit of the doubt?”

“I don’t know, my mom’s been kind of sneaky lately.” Matthew shook his head. “And obviously off her rocker. She knows you’re only visiting. Maybe it’s coincidence.”

“Let’s hope so, or my grandmother is in big trouble, and I don’t care how fragile she is.”

“Somehow, I doubt she’s in much danger.” Matthew caught the edge of the open door and gestured for Hope to go first.

“You haven’t seen my temper.” Laughing, she breezed by him.

The wind caught her long curls and brushed the silken tips against the inside of his wrist. His grip on the door faltered, but she didn’t seem to notice that the bell overhead jingled furiously. She smelled like spring, like new sunshine and fresh flowers.

“Isn’t it marvelous that Hope has agreed to take my place on the committee?” Nora Greenley’s voice rang like a merry bell above the clash of conversation in the homey little café. “Matthew, that means the two of you will be working side by side. Doesn’t that sound terrific?”

“Nanna!” Shock paled Hope’s face. “But—”

“You know I’m not well, dear, and the doctor wants me to get as much rest as possible.”

“Yeah, but—” A fall of black hair cascaded across Hope’s face, hiding her profile as she leaned her grandmother’s crutches against the wall. Embarrassment stained her creamy complexion. She looked at him helplessly.

“It’s all right, Hope. I’m getting used to the manipulative behavior of old women with nothing else to do but interfere in my business.” He gave Nora a wink so she’d know he wasn’t mad. Well, not too mad.

“Watch who you’re calling old, young man.” But Nora’s eyes were laughing at him, as if she were enjoying this far too much. “Helen is calling the meeting to order. She’s about to announce Hope is taking over my position. I can’t tell you what a relief it is. Hope, dear, come sit down here between me and Matthew—”

It was too late to escape. Helen’s voice rose above the sound of the coffee grinder at the counter. And only two unoccupied chairs remained close by. If he wanted to escape, he would have to excuse himself through half of the crowded café.

Hope shot him an apologetic look as she took one of the two remaining chairs. Her hair, unbound and rich, tumbled across her shoulders, catching the sprinkle of sunlight through the curtained window. Her curls shone like polished ebony.

“Now, if Nora is settled,” Helen said as the room silenced. “I’ll let her tell about how her wonderful granddaughter, whom we haven’t seen in quite a few years, has agreed to take her position on our committee. Nora—”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Hope leaned close to whisper. “Just so you know.”

“Oh, I know.” He did. He knew how his mother thought. Mom figured that enough time had passed since losing Kathy and that he ought to get on with his life. The boys needed more than a housekeeper—they needed a mother to love them. And he needed a wife.

But what she didn’t know, what she couldn’t accept, was that Kathy had been his whole heart.

Regret tightened in his chest until Nora’s words and the sounds of the café faded. His parents’ marriage had been based on respect, but not true love. Not like his and Kathy’s. Mom couldn’t understand.

Pain cut like a newly sharpened knife straight through the center of his chest. Mom didn’t realize she was hurting him, but she was. Her matchmaking attempts stirred up old memories and grief.

Applause ripped through the café, tearing into his thoughts. The meeting continued, and the sun flirting with the curtains grew warm on his back. Karen McKaslin arrived with coffee and tea for everyone.

Matthew leaned across the table, stretching for the packets of sugar. Hope scooted the little ceramic holder closer, so it was within his reach. She avoided his gaze and maybe it was because she was a woman, soft and pretty, but it made him feel keenly alone.

He remembered a verse from John, one he’d relied on heavily these last difficult years. “Here on this earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

Matthew stirred sugar into his tea and clung to those treasured words.

Chapter Three

Hope snapped open the kitchen cupboards. “You embarrassed the poor man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Go ahead, play innocent. But I’m not fooled and neither is Matthew.” She slammed the cans of food onto the shelves. “It wasn’t fair to volunteer me like that. You could have asked me. I would have been happy to do anything for you. Don’t you know that? But this—”

“Don’t you see? It’s for your own good, Hope.” Nanna didn’t sound quite as confident. “Time is slipping away from me, and I want to know my beloved granddaughter is happy and cared for.”

“I can take care of myself.” Hope slammed two more cans onto the wooden shelf. “Besides, I’m perfectly happy.”

“Sure, but you could be happier.” Nanna sighed. “Don’t be mad at me, Hope. With this injury I can’t serve on the committee, and your spending time with poor widowed Matthew Sheridan can’t hurt.”

“It’s your intentions that bother me. You know how I feel about marriage. And you know why.” Hope kept out a box of crackers and folded up the paper grocery sack. “I’m not going to marry anyone. Ever. I’m never going to go through what my parents did.”

“Just because your mom and dad couldn’t get along doesn’t mean that you can’t have a fulfilling marriage.”

“That’s exactly what it means.” Hope grabbed the bright yellow box and set it on the table in front of her grandmother. Her chest ached. Old wounds beat within her heart, and she didn’t want to be angry with Nanna. “Stop trying to change my life, okay? I like it just the way it is. And no, I don’t want a husband. I don’t miss having a family.”

“But, Hope—”

“Please, just drop it, Nanna. I can’t talk about this anymore. I’m the result of a bad marriage, remember?” The memories of her parents always fighting, always hurting each other tore through her. Memories she wanted to forget. The wind teased the chimes outside the open window, and Hope spun away, determined to keep control of her emotions.

The past was gone. There was no sense letting it hurt her now. She watched the light in Nanna’s eyes fade and she hated that, but she couldn’t back down. Marriage was not—and never would be—for her. No matter what. And if she felt lonely in the evenings cooking for one, well, that was a small price to pay for a life without hurt, blame and endless battles.

“What you haven’t seen,” Nanna continued above the musical jingle of the chimes, “is that some marriages can be a great blessing. Filled with joy and enduring love.”

“Sure, I’ve seen the movies. I’ve read the books. Notice how they’re all fiction?” Hope grabbed the tea-kettle from the stove and carried it to the sink. “I don’t want to hear any more about this, Nanna. Isn’t there a passage somewhere in the Bible about minding your own business?”

“Well, Thessalonians. ‘This should be your ambition: to live a quiet life, minding your own business—’” Nanna broke into a chuckle. “All right, fine, you’ve won. I’ll stop trying to match you up with handsome, kind, marriageable men even if it is for your own good.”

“Finally! You’ve come to your senses.” Hope grabbed hold of the cold water faucet.

“I’ll have you know there are many young women in this town who would appreciate my efforts.”

“Then maybe you should try matchmaking for them.” Hope gave the faucet a twist and felt the old metal handle give.

A blast of cold water slammed against her right cheekbone and across the front of her neck. She jumped back. Water sluiced down her face and dripped off her chin. Her shirt was wet through and plastered to her skin.

She could only stare at the geyser shooting water everywhere—straight up at the ceiling and sideways in every direction.