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

“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.

But he hesitated, knowing he had no right. There was too much to stop him.

The moment was lost, and she stepped away, heading toward the porch. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t bother with the towels. They’ll dry off in the truck. It’s hot enough. Okay, boys, time to head out and give Hope some peace and quiet.”

“Why?” Ian demanded. “Wanna get sprinkled by the hose.”

Matthew recognized the signs. A long, exciting day and no nap. “Looks like I’d better get them home and fast. Thanks again for watching them.”

“I hope it helped you out. Heaven knows you’ve done more than enough for me.”

He couldn’t look at her any longer, torn between the past and something that felt frightening to think about. “I was able to finish another job this afternoon. It made a huge difference.”

“Good.” A world of goodness shone in her eyes as their gazes met and held.

It felt like a deep chasm breaking his heart into pieces and he stepped back, searching but not finding words to begin to explain.

“Bye, boys,” Hope called, lifting a hand, looking as attractive and beautiful as morning, and he wished….

A part of him wished.

The boys called out in answer, grumbling first, then telling him about every aspect of their afternoon with Hope. How she’d let them dig holes for the baby corn plants, how they’d watered the garden and got into a water fight, and the chocolate cookies she’d given them.

She’d taken their pictures, and they climbed trees and ran through the sprinkler until they were cold. Their happiness filled the cab of the truck but it didn’t touch him as he first belted each boy in tight, then climbed in behind the steering wheel.

He could see Hope through the shivering leaves of the willows as she set the sprinkler in the backyard. Then the boughs moved, blown by a harsher wind, signaling the first edge of a storm and hiding her from his sight. But not from his mind.

Wishing, aware of a great emptiness in the deepest part of him, he headed down the road, straight toward the dark shadow of gathering angry clouds, already dreading the night ahead.

“I happened to see you and Matthew talking alone together,” Nanna commented, patting the sheets smooth over her legs to make a place for the supper tray. “You two sure look like you’re getting along well.”

“Why wouldn’t we? We’re on the Founder’s Days planning committee together, thanks to you and Patsy, so we have to find a way to cooperate. And what were you doing out of bed?” Hope set the tray into place and checked the wooden legs to make sure they were locked and sturdy. “Don’t tell me you got up without anyone noticing.”

“I could hear you two talking because my window is wide open.” Nanna’s bright eyes spoke of something more as she unfolded the paper napkin and spread it over her lap. “Sounds like those boys of his have really taken to you.”

“They’re nice boys, and I know where you’re headed, so don’t go there and say grace instead.”

Nanna chuckled. “’Fools think they need no advice, but the wise ones listen to others.’ I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you need roots, Hope. You’re like me, and I watched you with Matthew’s boys today. You had joy in your eyes for the first time since you’ve come back, and it makes my heart glad.”

“I like children. I never said I didn’t. You have to stop this pressure, Nanna. I know what you expect from me and what you want from me.” Her stomach burned, and she could feel the day’s lightness slipping away.

A great emptiness opened up inside her, an emptiness that hurt. How did a person know that love would last?

Love didn’t come with guarantees.

Tucking away her fears, Hope decided to take charge of the conversation. “Now say grace because I’m starving.”

Over the pleasant supper, Hope steered far away from Matthew and made a point to ask about the people in town she’d known as a teenager and how they were doing now. Nanna’s exhaustion caught up with her. Her nighttime medication put her to sleep before she had time for her prayers and chamomile tea, so Hope took the pot with her to the living room.

Wind whipped through the open windows, lashing the lace curtains without mercy. With the scent of imminent thunder and rain strong in the air, Hope wrestled with the stubborn, warped wood window frames and wondered how on earth Nanna had managed to strong-arm these windows for so long.

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