Mending The Widow's Heart

The Widow’s New Beginning

Spending the summer with her son in a quiet New England town will give military widow Holly Andrews much-needed breathing space. But that peace is quickly disturbed! From her first meeting with Sam Calhoun, a contractor working on her aunt’s house, there’s a surprising kinship. The handsome veteran is capable, smart and charming—and fighting a battle with pain and loss that Holly can easily understand. Working on a youth baseball league with the plucky Southern single mom rekindles dreams Sam had all but abandoned. He knows Holly hadn’t planned to stay, but in Liberty Creek, temporary has a way of turning into forever...

“I hate to take up the rest of your day.”

“Not a problem.”

A blossoming smile made its way across her face, reminding him of the way the sun came up over the nearby hills every morning. The poetic comparison was so unlike him, he was beginning to wonder if he was coming down with something.

“You’re a nice guy, Sam.”

Her sweet, no-frills compliment trickled into a part of him that had been cold and dead for so long, he’d begun to think it would stay that way. He found himself smiling back at her. “You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

She didn’t say anything more, but the lingering gaze she gave him before looking out the passenger window made his heart roll over in his chest. Normally cautious when it came to relationships, he wasn’t one to go all mushy over a woman the first time he met her.

But this one had gotten to him on some level that he didn’t quite understand. One thing he knew for sure, though: he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Dear Reader,

Thanks so much for following me to Liberty Creek!

Months ago, I stumbled across a picture of a quaint New England town, and the wheels in my head started spinning. My reaction to the back-in-time feeling became Holly’s, and her story began to take shape. Spunky as she was, she had a lot more to contend with than she realized, which is something many of us can relate to. Often, just when we think we’ve got a handle on what’s going on around us, things change, and we have to adjust to the new reality we face. It isn’t easy, but Holly’s determination and unshakable faith—along with her love for her son—kept her going.

When Sam Calhoun appeared in that very first scene, I didn’t know his whole story yet, but I knew it was worth telling. Part of him was stranded in the past, no matter how hard he tried to reclaim control of his life. Once he found a way to forgive himself—and God—for Nate’s death, he was finally able to embrace a future with the family he’d given up hoping for. So many military veterans carry burdens like his, experiences that make it difficult for them to resume the lives they enjoyed before their service. The courage they display every day is inspiring. With this story, I hope I’ve honored the sacrifices they and their families have made to keep our country safer.

This is the first of four books set in Liberty Creek, and I’m thrilled to be working on another series for Love Inspired. If you’d like to stop in and see what I’ve been up to, you’ll find me online at www.miaross.com, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads. While you’re there, send me a message in your favorite format. I’d love to hear from you!

Mia Ross

MIA ROSS loves great stories. She enjoys reading about fascinating people, long-ago times and exotic places. But only for a little while, because her reality is pretty sweet. Married to her college sweetheart, she’s the proud mom of two amazing kids, whose schedules keep her hopping. Busy as she is, she can’t imagine trading her life for anyone else’s—and she has a pretty good imagination. You can visit her online at miaross.com.

Mending the Widow’s Heart

Mia Ross

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Be strong and courageous.

—Joshua 1:9

For all of our soldiers and their families

Acknowledgments

To Melissa Endlich and the dedicated staff at Love Inspired. These very talented folks help me make my books everything they can be.

More thanks to the gang at Seekerville (www.seekerville.net), a great place to hang out with readers—and writers.

I’ve been blessed with a wonderful network of supportive, encouraging family and friends. You inspire me every day!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Holly Andrews was lost.

In the relatively tame wilds of New Hampshire, no less, and with a perfectly functioning navigation system. How it had happened, she had no clue, but as she swept a glance through the drizzly, empty landscape surrounding her, she couldn’t come to any other conclusion.

It was early June, and the trip from Boston north to Portsmouth had been easy enough. From there, the drive had gone so well, on wide highways bordered by enormous trees and mile after mile of wildflowers. For the past hour, though, she’d been hugging her side of a narrow two-lane road that could barely be classified as paved. So far, she’d narrowly avoided four humongous tractors, three runaway cows and a flock of white geese that had taken their sweet time crossing to a pond on the other side.

“Mom?”

Forcing sweetness into her voice to cover her irritation, she smiled into the rearview mirror at her eight-year-old son. “Yes, Chase?”

“Are we lost?”

“Of course not,” she insisted in the most upbeat voice she could manage. As a former military wife, she’d had plenty of practice with that. Tapping the navigation screen, she added, “The computer knows right where we are.”

“But do you?”

Sometimes she thought he was way too smart for his own good. Like his father, she added sadly. It had been two years since she’d buried him in a hero’s grave to honor his devotion to the country he’d loved. But every once in a while, when she least expected it, the darkness that had dominated the end of Brady’s life still reached out and ambushed her.

Calling up every ounce of determination she had, she pushed the grimness aside and focused on getting them to her aunt’s new home in the quaintly named village of Liberty Creek. After fighting the past for so long, Holly believed it would be refreshing to put that behind her and look to the future. With their savings nearly gone, her part-time retail work wouldn’t be enough to support them, and she recognized that a new career for her was an absolute must. The trouble was that while she’d been caring full-time for her family, she’d sunk to the bottom of her own priority list. Somewhere along the line she’d lost sight of the things she’d once enjoyed so much.

Time away from Boston was exactly what she needed to help her focus on what should come next. If she couldn’t figure out a way to be content there, she’d have no choice but to uproot them and start over somewhere else. She hated to take Chase from the only home he’d known, but she knew it would be better to move him soon so he could make new friends more easily than he would in high school.

But right now, she needed to find this seemingly invisible town. She was just about to pull over and put out an SOS when she noticed a crisp white sign up ahead.

Welcome to Liberty Creek.

She followed the gentle curve, craning her neck to make sure no surprises popped up out of the mist. At least now she could be sure she was in the right place. Her thought was promptly confirmed by the system chirping, “You have reached your destination.”

“Yeah, thanks for nothing,” Holly muttered, reaching over to mute the annoying computer voice. Now that the car was silent, she could make out the smack of large raindrops as they began pelting the windshield. When she switched on the wipers she’d forgotten to replace before leaving, they left unhelpful streaks across the bug-spattered glass. Perfect. For Chase’s sake, she summoned a chipper tone. “Almost there.”

“Good job, Mom. I knew you could do it.”

Her ray of sunshine, she mused with a smile. Ever since the moment when the delivery room nurse settled him in Holly’s arms, Chase had been the single bright spot in more of her days than she cared to recall. She honestly had no idea where she’d be without him.

“I forgot to mention that I got an email from your teacher this morning. You aced the assessment they had you take to let you leave school a couple weeks early.”

“That’s cool,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone that told her he’d expected the result. “The tests were easy, and Mrs. Graves said I finished in record time.”

“So we should be looking at colleges, then?” Though she was teasing, she was immensely proud of Chase’s accomplishments, both in and out of the classroom. Considering all they’d been through as a family, it was a blessing to know that her boy had managed to keep his head on straight.

“Maybe next year. I’m hoping to get Miss Farmer for third grade.”

His comment gave her a twinge of guilt for her earlier thoughts about moving, but she shoved the negative emotion aside. “Why is that?”

“She likes the Red Sox,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.

But Holly knew him better than that, and she couldn’t help smiling. “What else?”

“Well...” He stalled, then laughed. “She’s pretty, and she adopted a dog from a shelter and named him Fenway.”

That sounded more like it, Holly thought as she navigated yet another turn. The weak afternoon light did little to cut through the descending fog, and she had to really concentrate to keep her car on the proper side of the unmarked road. Because she was focusing so intently on that, her next glance into the distance made her squeak with surprise and hit the brakes.

There, not twenty feet away, stood a one-lane covered bridge. Sporting faded white paint and a walkway along one side, it conjured up all the Currier and Ives Christmas cards she’d gotten over the years. As she drove across the wooden planking and out the other end, the mist parted around a scene straight out of an artist’s dream: a village that looked like it had been built centuries ago and had somehow managed to stay there.

Buildings made of brick and classic New England clapboards lined Main Street, their green-and-white-striped awnings dripping water onto people scurrying to get out of the rain. The street was paved, but well-worn cobblestones ran along both sides in a charming nod to the past. In the square, a white gazebo was nestled under massive trees that looked old enough to predate the town, if that was even possible. The business district covered less than three blocks, so it took her about two seconds to find the place she was looking for: Ellie’s Bakery and Bike Rentals.

After parking in an open spot across the street, she swiveled to look back at Chase. “It’s pouring, and I should only be a sec. Do you want to wait here where it’s dry?”

“I kind of have to use the bathroom.”

Grinning, she tilted her head. “Kind of?” He nodded, and she said, “Let’s go, then.”

As he unbuckled his seat belt, she caught herself remembering all the years of dealing with car seats and toddler boosters. Had it really been just a year ago that he’d outgrown the last of them? Mom was right—your own childhood dragged by, but when you were a mom, your kids grew up at warp speed.

Since the rain seemed to have settled in for the duration, Holly pulled up the hood on Chase’s sweatshirt, and they made a run for the antique front door. From what she could see through the glass, the place looked deserted. There was no Closed sign posted, so she yanked on the brass handle and was relieved when the door opened. She could hear muted big band music playing in the kitchen, but out front the scattered tables and long lunch counter stood completely empty.

“Hello?” She waited for a moment, then called out again.

She was just about to give up when something ominous rumbled underneath a set of old-fashioned ice-cream soda dispensers. It sounded like a displeased grizzly bear, and she instinctively drew Chase back a step when a pair of enormous hands appeared on the countertop. They were connected to a set of muscular forearms clad in denim, and as their owner appeared, it was all she could do to keep from turning and bolting back the way they’d come.

Six and a half feet, easy, he brought to mind the massive trees in the square. Tall, unyielding, built to withstand a storm and keep on going. His light brown hair was a little too long for her taste, and his icy blue eyes held a laser sharpness that would make anyone think twice about approaching him. “Can I help you?”

His less-than-friendly demeanor was off-putting, but she forced herself to smile. “I’m so sorry to intrude like this, but I’m Holly Andrews. Daphne Mills’s niece,” she added, hoping that dropping her famous aunt’s name would gain her some points. It didn’t seem to work, but he didn’t ask her to leave, so she boldly forged ahead. “When she hurt her back, she asked us to come help out until she feels better. We drove up from Boston today, and she said she was going to leave an envelope for me here.”

The man’s eyes darkened to a stony gray, and Holly replayed her introduction in her head, wondering what she might have said to warrant such a cool reaction. But the gloomy look vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and she chalked her impression up to a long drive and the cloudy weather.

“Daphne mentioned something about that to me the other day,” he finally answered. “I think Gran put it behind here somewhere.”

As he began to disappear under the counter again, she moved forward to get his attention. “I hate to bother you, but my son needs to use the restroom. Could you point it out for us?”

He obliged her, and Chase zoomed off in the direction the man had nodded. That left Holly more or less alone with a stranger, and since he was obviously a friend of her favorite aunt, she decided that just wouldn’t do. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

He muttered something beneath his breath and rose with a grimace. “Yeah, I still forget sometimes. Sam Calhoun. I’d shake your hand, but—” Frowning, he showed her his filthy palms.

The collection of grim expressions he’d displayed, combined with his comment about sometimes forgetting to introduce himself, intrigued her more than they should have. Something about him screamed “wounded,” but she couldn’t quite figure out why. Then she noticed the outline of something rectangular dangling under his T-shirt, and she had her answer. “Military, right?”

“I was an Army Ranger.” His eyes narrowed into cynical slits. “How’d you know?”

“Just a hunch.” She nearly left it at that, then recalled her therapist’s advice about not hiding her difficult past and took a quiet breath before explaining. “My late husband, Brady, was a Marine.”

The chill in Sam’s eyes warmed a bit, and he gave her a look filled with the sympathy of someone all too familiar with her circumstances. Fortunately, Chase trotted in to rejoin them, saving her the awkwardness of either explaining further or pretending that there was nothing more to tell.

More than once, she’d caught herself wondering how things would be for her now if she’d never met Brady in the first place. But then she wouldn’t have Chase, and her life was infinitely better for being his mom. So, despite the fact that Brady had caused her more heartache than she’d once thought humanly possible, she did her best to feel grateful for the good things he’d left behind.

“Chase, this is Sam Calhoun, a friend of Aunt Daphne’s. Sam, this is my son, Chase.”

Her son stared up at the towering man but bravely held his hand out over the counter. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

A hint of a smile lifted the corner of Sam’s mouth as they shook. “Same here.”

Chase’s blue eyes drifted away, lighting on a glass display case filled with several varieties of cookies. “Are those fresh?”

“Kids like to stop in on their way home from school, so my grandmother makes sure there’s snacks for them to enjoy. She brought ’em outta the kitchen about an hour ago. Is that fresh enough for you?”

Chase nodded, and Sam motioned them to two stools. After washing his hands, he got them each a plate and set a delicious-smelling assortment in front of them. “Help yourselves, on the house.” When Holly opened her mouth to object, he cut her off. “You’re both soaked from the rain. It’s the least I can do.”

Deciding it would be rude to refuse his kind gesture, she chose one covered in chocolate icing and sprinkles. When she bit into it, it fell apart in her mouth as she hummed in appreciation. “Amazing. Now that I’ve heard it again, Calhoun sounds familiar. Is that the name I saw on the brass sign next to the bridge?”

Pride softened Sam’s angular features, and he nodded. “In 1820, Jeremiah Calhoun and his two brothers crossed the creek with nothing to their names but three teams of oxen and their wagons. They were top-notch blacksmiths, but there was no ironworks around here at the time. They opened Liberty Creek Forge to supply metal for themselves and other businesses that had started springing up. They built the bridge a couple years later so folks could get here easier. Some of them liked the area well enough to stick around.”

“And the rest is history,” she said, smiling at the appealing homespun story.

Having been raised in Savannah, she had a reverence for the past that had followed her throughout her life. She’d hoped to use that to create some kind of connection with this enigmatic man, but her efforts failed miserably. For some reason, the tentative light in his eyes dimmed, leaving them a flat grayish-blue that made her think of the storm clouds still hovering outside the windows.

Looking away, he pulled a pint carton of milk out of a cooler for Chase, then took two sturdy-looking mugs from a set of open shelves that ran the length of the wall opposite where they were sitting. “There’s a new pot of coffee. Would you like some?”

“Please.” One sip nearly put her on the floor, but she managed to swallow the jolt of caffeine without gagging. She reached out for a bowl of nondairy creamer and emptied a few of the thimble-sized portions into her mug.

“Too strong?”

Apparently, Sam was more observant than most, and she smiled to ease any insult she might have caused. “A little. I’m not used to coffee that’ll hold a spoon upright.”

“Sorry.”

It occurred to her that when he’d been relaying the story of his family’s legacy, Sam had seemed comfortable enough talking to her. But now that they were speaking more spontaneously, his conversational style was decidedly sparser. It reminded her of an actor who was adept at delivering his lines but stumbled while fielding questions during an interview.

She’d seen that kind of behavior many times at the veterans’ hospital, and she suspected that Sam was still waging a battle against something that had followed him home from wherever he’d been stationed. While Holly felt compassion for the former soldier, warning bells were clanging in her head so loudly, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Sam could hear them, too.

Still struggling to leave those horrific memories behind, she was committed to starting a new life with her son as far from the military as she could get. She was rapidly approaching thirty, and now that she’d made it through the worst storm she could imagine, it was time to make some serious plans for the future. For both her and Chase.

They’d spend their summer with Aunt Daphne, getting her back on her feet and enjoying this picturesque part of New Hampshire to the hilt. Then, in August, Holly would be ready to make some solid decisions about their futures and get Chase registered in a new school if they found themselves somewhere other than Boston. Nowhere in those plans did she have the time or the energy to take on another emotionally scarred soldier who may or may not become whole again. Chase was only six when Brady died, so he had hazy images of his father. To her mind, his ignorance was a blessing considering the tragic way Brady’s life had ended.

But now her son was old enough to get attached to people and be devastated if they were suddenly yanked out of his life. For her sake and Chase’s, Holly knew that the smartest thing she could do was keep Sam Calhoun at a nice, safe distance.

* * *

Sam had never been the chatty type.

His mother had often accused him of being a poster child for the staid New Englander who didn’t have much to say but meant every word that came out of his mouth. Still, in thirty years of living he’d never found himself tongue-tied around a woman. Until now.

Holly Andrews was more than easy on the eyes. A few blond strands had escaped her ponytail, framing her brilliant blue eyes in a halo of curls. When she’d pegged him as former military, he’d braced himself for the awkward moment when he’d have to explain where he’d served and why he was back.

To his great relief, she didn’t ask. Probably because she was familiar with veterans and could sense that he didn’t want to talk about his experience. The interesting thing was, she didn’t treat him like someone who needed to be handled with kid gloves the way so many folks did. Instead, she’d given him sympathy and understanding. For someone who’d dealt with every conceivable reaction during the past year, Sam found her matter-of-fact approach to him a refreshing change.

Realizing that her drink was nearly gone, he asked, “Would you like a refill on that?”

“That’d be great. It was a long trip, and we still have to drive to Auntie D’s and unpack.”

“Auntie D?” he echoed in disbelief as he poured coffee into her mug and added some hot water to make it more to her taste. “That’s what you call Daphne Mills, the greatest actress of her generation?”

“Oh, that’s just a bunch of hype invented by her agent.” Holly waved it off with a laugh. “She’d be the first to tell you there were actresses better than her. Not many, of course, but a few,” she added with a fond smile.

“I guess she’d know.” Then he remembered what had brought Holly into the bakery in the first place. “I think that envelope you were asking about is back here somewhere. Gimme a sec.”

“Don’t rush. If we’re not in the way, I’d rather hang out here until it quits raining, anyway.”

“According to the weatherman, this storm’s not moving off till tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, well.” Glancing at her son, she shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Them’s the breaks, right, bud?”

“We won’t melt,” he assured her brightly.

She rewarded his optimism with a proud mother’s smile and slit open the envelope Sam had given her. A pile of cash spilled onto the counter, followed by a house key.