Their Family Legacy

—Proverbs 3:27

To my grandchildren—Casie, Chey, Drew, Anna and Addie. Love the Lord, follow your dreams and never forget we love you.

Contents

Cover (#u017e570c-a9ee-588e-b3d2-ab21f1c869a8)

Back Cover Text (#u3c802a84-acfb-5e37-b0bb-9d05cbddec26)

About the Author (#u494ec6d2-3697-5fd2-80f8-7baa68efa044)

Booklist (#uae88f6bb-f957-5790-befb-368657cdb8d6)

Title Page (#u4d5e08a3-58ea-5d92-8855-dedd1eb407ef)

Copyright (#u4af948aa-f23e-5824-9419-c44dbd774384)

Introduction (#ued01dbd6-28d3-58e7-8f27-bf522615e324)

Dear Reader (#u541292ca-fa39-525c-8fa6-7694d9b5d19d)

Bible Verse (#u5abf0457-1bef-524f-861c-d18dc61ba48e)

Dedication (#u8e2a86dd-1778-5663-a264-5e9ece45105d)

Chapter One (#ud0fa36e4-1640-5f97-bee6-496a24a14c45)

Chapter Two (#uf15d7dc0-2415-5684-a8b9-85a8957f7b07)

Chapter Three (#u4ac29f55-aed5-5bea-8a16-9935b5f9b70a)

Chapter Four (#u659dcd3b-34ce-50d2-aa2d-7c3f5b0f182d)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ufb580a37-d379-545f-9443-273f0c0af837)

He’d be here today.

A nervous knot formed in Annelle Shepard’s chest. In just a couple of hours she’d have to confront the man who killed her cousin and best friend fifteen years ago, Jacob Langford. She had no desire to meet him face-to-face. Ever. But if she wanted to keep her aunt’s estate, this beautiful old home and the financial bequest that would give her room to breathe after years of living pillar to post, then she had to fulfill the terms of the will. Every year on the anniversary of her cousin’s death she had to accept a dollar from Langford until either of them died.

The whole concept left a bad taste in her mouth. No amount of penance could bring back her cousin. Her aunt’s persistence in making this man pay for his crime bordered on insanity and she resented being forced into participating.

But the bottom line was she needed a home for her boys. One that no one could gamble away, or foreclose for failure to pay the mortgage. Aunt Margaret’s house provided a safe and permanent place to raise her ten-year-old twin boys, Tyler and Ryan. Here they could put down roots and live a quiet, normal life without the constant tension and chaos of a drunken husband and father.

A knock sounded on her front door and she inhaled sharply, glancing at the clock. It was too soon for the man to be here. He’d agreed to come by sometime early in the afternoon. This was probably her neighbor Denise coming to get her boys. She’d offered to take them to the splash park for the afternoon so Annie could deal with the official meeting without interruption.

Denise Sanderson was an added blessing in her move back to Hastings. She lived next door, and Annie’s twins and Denise’s three children—Steve, Johnny and Tina—were close in age and played well together. Denise had been a huge help in recommending doctors, a good church and putting her in touch with a widow’s support group that Denise said had helped her sister move forward with her life. It had been two years since Annie’s husband Rick’s death and she still struggled with certain aspects of widowhood.

She opened the door with a smile.

“Are they ready?” Denise stepped into the hall just as the boys raced down the stairs.

“Bye, Mom.” Two voices spoke as one.

“Hold up there, fellas. You behave for Miss Denise. Do you hear me? And watch out for each other.”

“We will.” They answered in unison.

Denise ushered the boys out onto the porch. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay for this meeting?”

Annie appreciated her friend’s concern. She’d been battling life on her own for so long, it was nice to have someone who cared. “Absolutely. Thanks for watching them for me.”

Denise chuckled. “I’ll get you back—don’t worry.”

Annie waved goodbye as the boys climbed into Denise’s car, and then she went back inside and glanced at the clock. She rubbed her upper arms as she paced the outdated kitchen in the old house, a nervous knot bouncing around in her chest. Maybe she should have demanded a specific time for the meeting. The waiting was unbearable.

Her gaze landed on the clock again. Once she got past this obligatory meeting she could put it behind her for a year and get on with her life. Denise had expressed concern for her safety meeting a stranger. She couldn’t deny a certain amount of apprehension. Annie had a mental image of Langford in her mind of a bad-boy foster kid, driving drunk, raising cane. He’d be a big man, built like a wrestler, with tattoos covering his arms and neck and maybe even his face. He’d have black eyes beneath a protruding brow and a hard, unforgiving mouth held in a permanent sneer.

Would she be safe? A resolve born from years of standing up to a drunken husband infused her with courage. How hard could this meeting be? If he failed to show up then he’d be sent to jail. If he did, then he was here to meet his obligation and he would leave. Then she could get back to making this place a real home. The old 1920s brick foursquare house might be old and cluttered and in need of love, but it was hers and she could make it the home she’d always dreamed about. This would be her forever home and the place her boys would come back to with their families someday.

A loud knock on the door froze her in her tracks, forcing her to question her resolve. She closed her eyes and prayed for courage. She’d do whatever was necessary to make a safe home for her boys. Even meeting a murderer face-to-face and accepting his one-dollar penance.

* * *

Jake knocked firmly on the front door of Mrs. Owen’s house, his insides twisted into a knot. He’d hoped to never have to perform this distasteful ritual again. But here he was. His fingers closed around the dollar bill in his pocket. Lord, give me peace and strength to face this woman. Fifteen times he’d made this pilgrimage. How many more would there be before he was set free?