Heaven Sent

Heaven Sent Jillian Hart Matthew Sheridan was the answer to her prayer…At least, to the one Hope Ashton had offered when she found herself stranded alone on a blustery Montana night. Contrary to her matchmaking Nanna's belief, Hope didn't long to land a husband - and her old pal wasn't looking for a wife. But that didn't stop Hope from secretly wondering what if…?What could a widowed country cowboy possibly have in common with a millionaire's sophisticated daughter? Absolutely nothing - save the desire to stay single. But Matthew was a lonely, red-blooded man. He was also proud papa to a determined trio of toddlers who yearned for a mommy - and they'd set their sights on Hope…. Matthew’s words comforted Hope like nothing else. That’s what friends did, comforted one another. So why did she keep noticing the play of muscles beneath his T-shirt? Why was she feeling an electrical charge from being so close to him? She wasn’t attracted to him. She just couldn’t be. She was off balance, that was all. Yes, that had to be it. She was out of her usual environment, like a fish out of water. That had to be why she was feeling this way. The reason she’d let herself close enough to see Matthew’s heart and feel her own response… JILLIAN HART It’s no surprise to anyone who knows Jillian Hart that she grew up to be an author. When she was nine years old she spent every last penny of her savings on a used typewriter so she could type the stories that were always in her head. Over the years her parents endured the loud and rather constant clatter of the keys, and tolerated her daydreaming about her stories when she was dawdling over chores. Because she loved to read and write, she majored in English at Whitman College, where her roommates also endured her typing and daydreaming. After graduate school she worked in advertising and was lucky enough to fall in love with a man who didn’t mind her daydreaming or her typing. Now happily married, she is thankful to spend her days working hard at what she loves most—telling the stories that are in her heart. She lives in Washington State with her husband in a little house surrounded by flowers—and a few weeds because she’s always typing or daydreaming and sometimes forgets to pull them. Heaven Sent Jillian Hart You can make many plans, but the Lord’s purpose will prevail. —Proverbs 19:21 Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Epilogue Letter to Reader Chapter One Hope Ashton leaned her forehead against the wet edge of the lifted hood and tried not to give in to a growing sense of defeat. Her brand-new rental Jeep was dead, and she was stranded miles from nowhere in the middle of a mean Montana storm. Strong north winds drove cold spikes of rain through her T-shirt and jeans and she shivered, wet to the skin. How was she going to get to her grandmother now? Just get back inside the Jeep and think this through. There was nothing else she could do. Hope took a step in the dark and felt her left foot sink into water. Cold sticky mud seeped through the thin canvas mesh all the way up to her top lace. She jumped back, only to sink up to her right ankle in a different puddle. Great. Just great. But hadn’t her life been one obstacle after another since she’d received the call about her grandmother’s fall? It was emotion, that’s all. Frantic worry had consumed her as she’d tried to book a flight across the Atlantic. She’d come too far to lose heart now—Nanna was only a few miles away. God had granted Hope two good legs. She would simply walk. A little rain and wind wouldn’t hurt her. Lightning cut through the night, so bright it seared her eyes. Thunder pealed with an earsplitting ring. Directly overhead. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t start out just yet. She ached to be near Nanna’s side, to comfort her, to see with her own eyes how the dear old woman was doing, but getting struck by lightning wasn’t on her to-do list for the night. Hope eased around the side of the Jeep, resigning herself to the cold puddles, and into her vehicle. Warmth from the heater still lingered, and it drove away some of the chill from her bones. As lightning arced across the black sky and rain pelted like falling rocks against her windshield, she tried the cell phone one more time on the chance it was working. It wasn’t. The electrical storm wouldn’t last long, right? She tried to comfort herself with that thought as the wind hit the Jeep broadside and shook it like an angry bull on the rampage. Shadowed by the flashes of lightning, a tall grove of trees rocked like furious giants in the dark. Okay, she was getting a little scared. She was safe in the Jeep. The Lord would keep her safe. She’d just lived too long in cities and had only spent a year of high school here in Montana, on these high lonely plains. Round lights flashed through the dark behind her, and she dropped the phone. Rain drummed hard against the windshield so she couldn’t see anything more of the approaching vehicle. Twin headlights floated closer on the unlit two-lane road, and she felt a little too alone and vulnerable. Maybe whoever it was would just keep going, she prayed, but of course, the lights slowed and, through the rain sluicing down her side window, she could see the vehicle ease to a stop on the road beside her. Her heart dropped as his passenger window slid downward, revealing a man’s face through the dark sheets of rain. She eased her window down a crack. “Got trouble?” he asked. “I’d be happy to give you a lift into town.” “No, thanks. Really, I’m fine.” “Sure about that?” His door opened. Years of living on her own in big cities had fine-tuned her sense of self-preservation. Habit called out to her to roll up her window and lock her doors. But instinct kept her from it. For some reason she didn’t feel in danger. “Don’t be afraid, I don’t bite.” He hopped out into the road, stopping right there in the only westbound lane. “If you don’t mind, let me take a look at your engine first. Maybe I can get you going again.” Relief spilled through her. “Thanks.” Through the slant of the headlights, she could see the lower half of his jeans and the leather boots he wore, comfortable and scuffed. He approached with an easy stride, not a predatory one, but she couldn’t see more of him in the darkness, and he disappeared behind the Jeep’s raised hood. Maybe it was something easily fixed. Maybe this man with a voice as warm as melted chocolate was a guardian angel in disguise. Then his boots sloshed to a stop right beside her. “Hope Ashton, is that you? I can’t believe you’d step foot in this part of Montana again.” And then she recognized something in his voice, something from a life that felt long past. When she was a millionaire’s daughter from the city lost in a high school full of modest Montana bred kids. She searched her memory. “Matthew Sheridan?” “You remember me.” His voice caressed the words, as rich and resonant as a hymn. “Good, then maybe you’ll stop looking as if you expect me to rob you. You’ve got a busted fan belt. C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.” “I’m not sure—” “This time of night you’ll be lucky to see another car. Lower your pride a notch. Unless you think being seen with me will ruin your reputation.” She winced, remembering with a pang of shame the prideful schoolgirl she’d once been. “My reputation has survived worse than accepting help from an old friend.” “We were never old friends, Hope.” “You’re not one to sugarcoat the past, is that it?” “Something like that.” Lightning broke through the dark, flashing bright enough for her to see. He appeared taller, his shoulders had broadened, and his chest and arms looked iron strong. “That was too close for comfort,” he said above the crash of thunder. “Let me grab your bags and we’ll get you to your grandmother’s.” “I can manage on my own.” She hopped out, and wind and rain slammed into her. She wrestled with the back door, but a strong arm brushed hers. “All three bags?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard her, his breath warm against the back of her neck. She trembled and nodded. Words seemed to stick in her throat. It was the cold weather, that was all. That had to be the reason her heart sputtered in her chest. “You’re shivering. I’ll come back for the bags. Let’s get you inside the truck where it’s good and warm.” One strong, warm hand curled around her elbow, seeing her safely through the slick mud at her feet. His behavior and his kindness surprised her so much, she didn’t even argue. “You’re a gentleman, Matthew Sheridan. I won’t forget it.” He chuckled, warm and deep. “I do what I can. Hop up.” The warm interior of his pickup wrapped around her like a hug. She settled onto the seat, dripping rain all over his interior. The dome light overhead cast just enough of a glow to see the rolled up bag of cookies at her feet. Matthew reached past her and flicked the fan on high. “There should be a blanket behind your seat. Just sit back and take it easy. I’ll be right in.” He shut her door, and the cab light winked off. Rain pummeled the roof overhead, and she saw the faint shadows of tall trees waving angrily in the gusty wind. Lightning blazed, thunder answered. She found the blanket behind the seat, just as Matthew said, and noticed three empty car seats in the back seat of the extended cab. Funny, how life changed. It seemed everyone she knew was married with children and, while she wished them happiness, she certainly didn’t believe that marriage could bring happiness. She felt colder and snuggled into the soft thermal cotton blanket that smelled of fabric softener and chocolate chip cookies. The driver’s door snapped open and the dome light illuminated Matthew’s profile. Strong, straight, handsome. He’d grown into a fine-looking man. He stowed her luggage, then joined her in the cab and slammed the door against the bitter storm. “I’ll give Zach at the garage a call first thing in the morning.” Matthew didn’t look at her as he slid the gearshift into second. Her teeth clacked in answer, and she snuggled deeper into the blanket. The blast of the truck’s heat fanned hot air against her, but she couldn’t stop shaking. “I heard about your grandmother’s fall. I bet seeing you will cheer her up some.” “I hope so.” Her fingers curled around her purse strap. “I plan to stay as long as she needs me.” “Is that so?” He quirked one brow. “I heard you’ve never been back to visit her.” “How do you know?” His question set her on edge, as if she didn’t love her grandmother. As if all the times she’d flown Nanna out to California for every holiday didn’t count. Or the vacation they went on every year. “You didn’t show up for the ten-year reunion. Everybody talked about it.” “They did?” Except for a few close friends she’d made, she hadn’t even thought of the small town where she’d spent one year of her teenage life. But it had been a pivotal year for her, emotionally and spiritually. “I got an invitation, but I was—” “In Venice,” he finished with a lopsided grin. “I heard that, too.” “I was working.” “On a new book. I know.” He slowed down as a pronghorn antelope leaped across the road. “Look at that.” Hope’s chest caught. The fragile animal flew through the air with grace and speed. The light sheened on the antelope’s white flanks and tan markings. In a flash, it was gone, leaving only the dark road behind. “I’ve seen thousands of them, but it takes my breath away every time.” Matthew’s grin was genuine, and for a moment it felt as if they’d touched. As if they were no longer practically strangers and all the differences in their lives and in their experiences had vanished. She saw his loneliness and shadows. Then she tore her gaze from his. She was being foolish, really. She and Matthew Sheridan had nothing in common—the three car seats in the back were proof of that. Silence settled between them as he drove, and she welcomed it. The loneliness she’d witnessed in Matthew’s eyes troubled her. Maybe because she didn’t want to be reminded of the loneliness in her life, a loneliness that had no solution. She didn’t want love, she didn’t want marriage. She didn’t even want to feel her heart flicker once in the presence of a handsome man. She was surviving just fine on her own. God was in her corner, and that was enough. Even on the loneliest of nights. “Thanks for the ride, Matthew.” Her fingers fumbled for the door handle in the near dark. “I know you had to go out of your way.” “Not too far. And it’s always my pleasure to help out one of Manhattan, Montana’s most esteemed citizens. Or ex-citizens.” His gaze didn’t meet hers as he hopped out of the truck. Maybe he’d felt the same way as she did, that when their gazes had met, she’d seen something far too personal. Her feet hit the muddy ground. “Matthew?” He didn’t look up as he tugged out her carry-on, heavy with her computer and camera equipment, and two suitcases. “Go on ahead, get out of this rain. I’ll bring your things.” “That’s not right.” She eased around to take her baggage, but Matthew’s grip remained firm on the leather handles. “You’ve done enough. I’m more than capable of carrying my own bags.” “I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough.” As if insulted, he shouldered past her. “I was raised to look after stranded women in distress.” “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” “I’m sure you have.” Matthew set the bags down on the front porch next to the neatly painted swing and pulled back the squeaky screen door. She’d forgotten how macho and strong men were in Montana. Plus, she figured she was right. She’d seen loneliness in his eyes, a loneliness they might have in common, and that bothered her. His wide knuckles rapped on the wood frame. “I’ll get a hold of Zach at first light.” “Matthew, you’ve done more than enough. You haven’t seen me since high school and—” “It’s just the way I’m made, Hope. Or should I say Miss Ashton?” He tipped his Stetson and backed down the steps and into the darkness, distant but kind. “Give my best to your grandmother.” She opened her mouth, but the words fumbled on her tongue. She didn’t know what to say to make things right between them. He’d gone out of his way to help her, as one good neighbor helps another, and instead of recognizing that, she’d put up the same old defenses. Some lessons in life were hard to let go of, no matter how much she prayed. She heard Matthew’s truck pull away. Red taillights glowed in the black sheets of rain plummeting from sky to earth. She would have to find a way to make things right, to thank him for helping her when he didn’t have to. The door squeaked open, and a woman in a teal tunic and slacks smiled at her. “You must be Nora’s granddaughter. Goodness, she’s been talking of nothing else all day. Come in, dear. Heavens, but you’re soaked clear through to the skin.” “My Jeep broke down and stranded me.” “No!” The nurse looked stricken. “And on a night like this. Haven’t seen a storm as bad as this in some time. Was that Matthew Sheridan’s truck I saw driving away?” “He took pity on me and gave me a ride.” “Matthew’s a good man. Shame about his wife, though. Let’s get you inside and out of those wet clothes, shall we? My name’s Roberta—” She made a move to grab the carry-on bag. Hope managed to get there first, hauling all three pieces into the living room. The nurse had enough work to do without waiting on Hope, too. “Dear, you’re soaked clear through to the skin,” Roberta fussed. “Let me draw a bath for you—” “Thank you, but no.” Only one thing—one person—mattered. “How’s Nanna?” “She’s been having trouble sleeping.” “Because she was waiting up for me? I called her after supper and told her not to—” “Why, she can’t wait to see you. You and your brother are the only real family she has left.” Roberta bustled into the kitchen, flipping on lights as she went. “As I see it, she’s got the right to worry about you traveling all the way from Italy on your own. And besides, it’s given her something else to think about besides the pain.” Hope’s stomach fluttered. She hated the thought of her sweet Nanna suffering. “Is she awake?” “I’m sure she is. Go on up. Do you want to take this to her?” Hope took the prepared tea tray, thanking the nurse who’d gone to the trouble, and headed upstairs. She knew each step and knew which stair creaked. Memories flooded back, filling her heart, warming her from the inside out. Some memories weren’t filled with hurt. Like the year she’d spent with Nanna when her parents were divorcing. As she climbed into the second story, the smell of dried roses, lavender and honeysuckle tickled her nose, just as it had so many years ago. “Hope? Is that you?” Nanna’s voice trilled like a morning lark, joyful and filled with melody. “Heavens, I’ve worried about you, child. Do you know what time it is?” “I told you not to expect me until morning.” Hope breezed into the room, unchanged from memory with the lace curtains shimmering like new ivory at the windows, the antiques polished to a shine and the wedding ring quilt draped across the carved, four-poster bed. Just like always. But the woman beneath the covers was fragile and old, changed from the sprightly grandmother Hope remembered. Deep affection welled in her heart, and she set the silver tray on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. “Nanna, it’s good to see you.” “Come give me a hug.” Hope bent at the waist, lightly folding her arms around the frail woman. Nanna felt delicate and not tough and robust like she’d been at Christmas, less than four months ago. “You smell like honeysuckle.” “One of my favorites. You should have seen last summer’s garden! Goodness, the sachets and things Helen and I made. We were busy bees. Why, we had the entire basement filled from floor to rafter with drying flowers.” Nanna’s eyes warmed with the happy memory, and she patted the bed beside her. “Dear heart, it’s good to see you, but you’re thinner.” “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. Lord knew, this was all a balancing act. Every morning wasn’t as bad as this, but then he was used to having a housekeeper. With three three-year-olds, it made a big difference having another adult to run interference. Matthew locked the door and herded the boys toward the black pickup in the gravel drive. He opened the door, and the scent of Hope Ashton’s perfume—light and pretty—lingered, a faint reminder that she’d sat beside him on the ride to town. Longing swept through him. Not for Hope, but for a woman gone from his life forever. It had been over two long years since he’d smelled the pleasing gentleness of a woman’s perfume in his truck. Two years had passed since he’d buried Kathy, and he still wasn’t over his grief. And how could he? There would never be another woman who would make his heart brighter, his life better. Kathy had been his once-in-a-lifetime, a gift of love that a man was lucky to know at all. Something that miraculous didn’t happen twice. It just didn’t. Chest tight, he buckled Josh into the remaining car seat and hopped into the cab. “I’m so glad I have the committee meeting today,” Nanna announced as the new day’s sun tossed a cheerful pattern across the quilt. “I’ll take any excuse I can to get out of this house.” “I thought you were supposed to be on bed rest. How are we going to get you to town if your doctor’s orders are to keep you right here?” Hope slid open the closet door. “We could always drive. It’s easier than hobbling. I’m still not used to those crutches.” “Very funny.” Hope pulled out a blue summer dress. “This would look nice. Before I take you anywhere, I’m checking with your doctor.” “You worry too much, and I want the yellow dress. The flirty one.” “Flirty? You’re in your sixties. You shouldn’t be flirting.” “That’s what you think.” Nanna’s chuckle was a merry one. “Howard Renton joined the planning committee last month. Both Sadie and Helen made fools of themselves fighting to sit next to him. But I think I won him with my charm.” “Wear the yellow but don’t flirt. Too much.” Hope laid the cheerful sundress on the foot of the bed. “Isn’t that what you used to tell me?” “Hope, you’re twenty-nine years old. You’re supposed to be flirting.” “I’m supposed to, huh? Is there some unwritten law or something?” “Go ahead and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re going to let the best years of your life slip away alone without a man to love you.” “I didn’t fly all the way from Rome and drive down from the closest airport through a terrible storm to hear that kind of advice.” “Well, then what kind do you want to hear?” “The kind that doesn’t have anything to do with getting me married off.” Hope unzipped the dress and lifted it from the hanger. “‘God gives to some the gift of marriage, and to others he gives the gift of singleness.’” “‘And the Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a companion who will help him.”’” Nanna lifted her arms as Hope slipped the dress over her head. “It’s not good for a woman to be alone, either.” “So, the person who marries does well, and the person who doesn’t marry does even better.” Hope smoothed the dress over her grandmother’s back. “I think I’ve proven my point.” “You’ve proven nothing. Love is one of God’s greatest gifts. Don’t let your life pass you by without knowing it.” Nanna’s hand brushed hers with warmth. “Goodness, this dress makes me feel young. Fix my hair for me.” “Do you want it up or down?” Nanna squinted into the mirror against the far wall. “Down.” Hope reached for the brush and started working. “Tell me more about this man you and your friends are fighting over.” “He’s moved back to town after being away for what, nearly twenty years. He wanted to be close to what remains of his family. Sad, it is. You didn’t hear about the tragedy, did you? Lost his son, daughter-in-law and two of his grandchildren in a small plane crash a few years back. In fact, one of the grandchildren was Matthew Sheridan’s wife.” The brush slipped from her fingers. “I didn’t know.” “Lucky thing, one of the boys got sick right before the plane took off, so she left the children with Matthew. He was devastated. It shook all of us to the core, I tell you. We lost a lot of friends that day.” Matthew lost his wife and the mother of his children. Her chest tightened. She remembered how he’d seen her safely home last night. And remembered the loneliness in his eyes. “It’s strange to be here after being gone for so many years. All the people I know are much older now. So much has happened to them.” “And your classmates grown up and married.” Nanna’s eyes sparkled. “Everyone except you.” “Surely not everyone’s married. There has to be a few people in this town as smart as I am.” She winked at Nanna’s reflection in the big, beveled mirror. “You mean as misguided. I think your old friend Karen McKaslin isn’t married yet. Now, don’t get your hopes up. Her wedding is scheduled for sometime this fall.” “A mistake.” Hope shook her head. “I’ll have to give her a call and see if I can’t wisen her up.” Nanna laughed. “Tease all you want. You never know when the lovebug will bite.” “Lovebug?” Hope reached for a headband on the edge of the nightstand. “If love is a bug, then all I need is a good can of pesticide.” “Really, Hope. You’re impossible.” Nanna’s hand caught hers, warm and accepting, as always. “And no, I won’t change your mind. I’ll let God do that.” “What’s He gonna do? Send a lovebug?” “You never know. There are a few handsome men in this town looking for the right woman to share their lives with.” “Oh, there are men, all right, but I don’t think marriage is what they’re looking for.” “Then you’ve been living in all the wrong places.” Nanna winked, then caught her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, Hope. Why, this is wonderful. I hardly recognize myself.” “You look beautiful, Nanna.” Hope brushed her hand gently over a few stray wisps, guiding them into place. “What do you want for breakfast?” “My day nurse Kirby is taking care of that.” “Well, she has enough to do taking care of you.” “Yes, but the real question is, can you cook?” Nanna looked terribly skeptical. “I know how you live, always traveling—” “That’s because I’m always working.” “If you had a husband and a family, you would have more to do with your time than work.” Nanna pressed a kiss to Hope’s cheek, one of comfort and love. “Go ahead, make breakfast. I’m a brave woman with good digestion.” “I’m not going to poison you.” “And be careful of the sink handle. It’s been leaking something fierce. And that right front stove burner is wobbly. I mean to talk to someone in town about it today.” “Have a little faith, Nanna. I’m all grown up. I think I can figure out a faucet handle and an ancient stove.” “‘Pride goes before destruction, and haughtiness before a fall.’” “Relax.” Hope helped Nanna lean back into her pillows, then reached for the quilt to cover her. “I’m not going to burn down the kitchen.” “You almost did once, you know.” “I was seventeen years old.” Hope pressed a kiss to Nanna’s brow. How fast time passed. And it was passing faster every day. “You get some rest, and I’ll be right back with some scrambled eggs.” “Now this I have to see,” Nanna mused. Hope pulled the door closed and hurried downstairs, her heart heavy. Nanna was wrong, she didn’t need the pain of marriage. She’d watched her parents up close and personal, and she’d sworn never to live like that. Ever. Even now, remembering, her stomach tensed and she laid her hand there. The ulcer still bothered her from time to time. Usually whenever she thought about her family. Yes, singleness was one gift from the Lord she intended to cherish for the rest of her life. “Matthew, you have to take my place on the Founder’s Days planning committee. I can’t do everything.” Matthew’s mother herded three little boys into her living room. Building blocks clattered and sounds of glee filled the air. “I don’t mind keeping the triplets over the summer, you know that. But these three are a lot to keep up to. You’re going to have to do some things for me.” “The committee meetings are during the day, and you know I can’t take off work. I’ve got a roof to put on the McKaslins’ hay barn—” “You can work it out. You’re self-employed.” Mom pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Tell you what, I’ll sweeten the deal. I’ll keep the boys past supper every night if you’ll take over this one tiny, little obligation for me.” “I’m a carpenter. I don’t know the first thing about committees.” “Nonsense, a smart man like you. The meeting is this morning, from ten-thirty to eleven-thirty at Karen’s little coffee shop. Oh, those boys are a busy bunch, aren’t they?” Mom took off at a run. “Ian, don’t climb up the fireplace. No, not even if you’re a fireman.” There was a twinkle in her eye. The planning committee, as far as he knew, consisted of the town’s oldest citizens. If Mom wasn’t playing matchmaker, she was still up to something. If only he knew what. Manhattan, Montana crept into sight around the last bend. Hope hadn’t seen this place since she was seventeen. Last night, when she’d driven through with Matthew, it had been dark and late, the streets deserted. In the light of day, she saw that much was different from what she remembered. Businesses had changed hands, new stores had come in, but the character and the small-town feel remained. It was the closest thing to home she’d known in her entire life. “It’s good to be back, isn’t it?” Why did Nanna sound triumphant? “I always knew you belonged here, Hope, and not in your parents’ world.” “What does that mean, exactly?” Hope braked as an elderly man jaywalked leisurely across the wide, two-lane street. “It means you’re the kind of person who needs roots, like me. To plant them deep and watch your life grow.” Nanna tapped her fingers against the dash. “Turn here. Right there in front of the blue shop.” Hope eased Nanna’s old sedan into a parking spot. The hand-painted sign on the row of shops read Field of Beans. “I’m not a tree. I don’t have roots.” “You know darn well what I mean, you’re being stubborn.” Nanna opened her door. “Kirby, dear, bring those crutches. I can handle the steps by myself.” Hope saw the nurse’s exasperated look in the rearview. “Don’t tell me she’s always like this?” “Usually she’s worse.” The young nurse hopped out of the car, hurrying to help. Hope listened to her grandmother issue orders to Kirby as she situated the crutches beneath her arms. Nanna might be injured, but her spirit remained unscathed. Hope stepped out into the fresh spring morning to lend Kirby a hand. Already the sun was hot, and dust mixed in the air. She smelled freshly ground coffee and baking muffins. “Nanna, is there anything you want from the store?” “Oh, no, you don’t.” Nanna wobbled to a stop. “You’re coming to the meeting with me. You can do your errands-running later.” “But you have Kirby—” “Kirby has to go fill some prescriptions for me.” “I have to run over to Zach’s garage and rescue my Jeep. Then I have to grocery shop.” Hope took hold of her grandmother’s fragile elbow. “Don’t worry, I’ll help Kirby get you inside—” “Look, there’s Matthew Sheridan crossing the street.” Nanna took a stronger step. “It looks like he’s heading for Karen’s coffee place, too. Good. I’ve been needing to speak with him.” “What you need to do is concentrate or you’re going to fall off those things. Maybe we should get the wheelchair from the trunk—” “Don’t you dare. There’s only three stairs, and I’m starting to get the hang of these crutches.” Nanna hobbled forward, then stopped in the middle of the first board step. “Why, Matthew. The man I’ve been looking for.” “Me?” He strolled to a stop on the sidewalk above, his face shaded by the brim of his Stetson. “Nora Greenley. I can’t believe you’re up and around.” “It’s hard to keep an old warhorse down,” Nanna quipped as her fingers caught Hope’s sleeve. “Matthew, I have a terrible problem up at the house. Now, I could have called the McKaslin boy, but I hear you’re a better carpenter. I need some work done on my kitchen.” “I’d be happy to come take a look.” He held out his hand, palm up. It was a strong hand with calluses thick on his sun-browned skin. “Do you need help up these stairs?” “I can handle the stairs. You talk a minute with my granddaughter and find a time she can show you the kitchen.” Nanna was suddenly busy crutching up the steps and avoiding Matthew’s gaze. “Hope, be a dear and handle this for me.” “You know I can’t say no to you, Nanna.” But Hope did feel suspicion burn in her heart. What was her grandmother up to? “Kirby will see me in, dear. Just make sure you come and join me. If I need help, I’d hate to interrupt the meeting. You understand.” “I understand.” Was that a twinkle in the older woman’s eye? Nanna knew better than to try to fix her up with poor Matthew Sheridan, didn’t she? “Try to behave until I get in there, Nanna.” “You know me.” Her crutches creaked against the board walkway. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Hope’s chest felt tight watching the frail lady ease her way over the threshold and into the caf?, as determined as an Olympic athlete. Matthew leaned against the wooden rail. “Looks like Nora’s keeping you busy.” “Busy? I’m running like a madwoman. It’s not even lunchtime and she’s exhausted me.” Hope couldn’t quite meet his gaze. She remembered what Nanna had said about his wife’s death. She remembered the loneliness in his eyes. “I guess she wants some work done on her stove and sink.” “Well, I don’t pretend to be the best in town when it comes to appliances, but I can take a look at that sink.” Matthew splayed both hands on the weathered rail. “I’m roofing the McKaslins’ barn this week. I can drop by, say, Monday morning, if that’s no problem.” “That will be soon enough, I’m sure. I didn’t notice any leak when I washed the dishes this morning. I have this funny feeling there’s no real hurry. I think Nanna wanted to try to get the two of us together.” “I had that feeling, too.” He shrugged one shoulder uneasily, looking off down the street. “Did Zach get your Jeep fixed?” “It’s repaired and waiting for me. Thanks again for helping me out. It would have been a long miserable walk.” “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 caf?. “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 caf?. 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 caf? 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 caf?, 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 teakettle 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. When Nanna had asked her to talk to Matthew, there really was a problem with the plumbing. She set the broken cold water handle on the counter and swiped more drops from her eyes. “Kirby, quick, call Matthew.” Nanna’s voice rang high with distress above the sounds of the cascading waterfall. “Ever since Ethan Brisbane left town, we don’t have a decent plumber. Hope, quick, can you make it stop?” “I’m trying.” Her sneakers slid on the wet surface as she tugged open the cabinet doors. She scrunched down and peered under the sink. The old pipes groaned. Droplets plinked against her forehead. She knew next to nothing about plumbing, but she did own a small condo. She’d had her share of homeowner disasters. “I don’t see any shutoff valves. Nanna, how old are these pipes?” “Who knows? Seventy years or more?” “Maybe it’s time to replace ’em.” There was no way to stop the water, not here at the sink. “There must be a shutoff in the basement. I’ll see what I can do.” “Hurry, dear, my knickknacks—” Hope spun toward the sink. The pretty porcelain figurines on the corner shelves above the sink were taking a direct hit. She stepped into the force of cold water, wincing as it struck like a thousand icy pinpricks. “Kirby, could you help me out here?” “Sure thing.” The young nurse abandoned the phone and hurried across the growing puddle on the floor to carry the rescued figurines to the table. “Mr. Sheridan wasn’t in. I got his pager.” “We’re going to need someone right away.” Hope curled her fingers around the last wet porcelain child. “And it would be better—” she fixed a warning gaze on her grandmother “—if it wasn’t Matthew Sheridan.” “Don’t worry, Hope.” Nanna spoke up. “I’m a defeated old woman resigned to live without a single great grandchild.” “Sure. Make me feel guilty.” Hope handed Kirby the last figurine and stood, dripping wet, in the middle of the kitchen. Water crept in an ever-widening puddle across the ancient flooring. As far as she could tell, puddles and crutches didn’t look like they would mix. “C’mon, Nanna, let’s get you to safer ground.” “I’ll take her into the living room,” Kirby volunteered, the crutches already in hand. “And I’ll try to find someone—anyone—to come right away.” “Thanks, Kirby.” Hope caught Nanna’s elbow as she wobbled, a little unsteady on her feet. “I’m going to see what I can do downstairs.” “Now be careful of those narrow steps,” Nanna warned. Hope resisted the urge to remind her grandmother that she was no longer a child. The warmth in her chest doubled knowing someone worried over her—that someone still cared. The water was still spewing like Old Faithful, so Hope ran for the basement door. No light greeted her when she hit the switch. She guessed Nanna hadn’t been down here in a while. She found a flashlight on a hook by the door and searched the lengths of wrapped pipes visible overhead. They ended by the hot water tank in the back corner, where huge cobwebs warned of even bigger spiders. “No way am I going in there.” She shivered, her skin crawling just at the sight of those thick, dust-coated gossamer strands. Then a dark object slinked across the cement floor toward her sneaker. She screamed in midair, already jumping back. The flashlight slipped from her grip. It hit the ground with a crash and rolled, the light eerily aimed at the ceiling. The shadowy spider skidded to a stop, waiting—like he was preparing to launch an all-out assault on her ankle. “Chances are it’s more scared of you.” A rich masculine voice rumbled like low valley thunder through the dark. Then boots clipped on the concrete. “He’s looking up at you and thinking, boy, that giant sure looks dangerous. I hope she doesn’t attack me.” “Matthew Sheridan.” She took another cautious step back, her pulse fast, her limbs shaky. “You scared me to death.” “Didn’t hear me come down the stairs, huh? I guess you were too busy screaming at this poor defenseless spider.” He strode closer, his presence like a fire in the darkness, radiating heat without light. A heat she felt. “How did you get here so fast?” “Kirby left a desperate message so I came over. I was next door at the Joneses’.” He flashed her a grin in the eerie mix of shadows and knelt down, unafraid. “If you shoo him off, he’ll go hide and leave you alone.” “Sure. I feel so much safer knowing he’s in the shadows watching and waiting for the right moment to take a bite.” Hope tripped back, away from the narrow hallway, not sure which was affecting her more—the spider or the man. “I was trying to find the shutoff.” “Let me take it from here. After all, I’m the professional.” He held up a big wrench and stepped into the light. Lemony rays brushed across his face, accenting the fine cut of his profile and the curve of his lopsided grin. “Tell Nora not to worry. I’m on the job.” “Oh, that’s a comfort.” Why was she feeling like this? The last thing she wanted was to feel attracted to a man. Especially Matthew Sheridan. She remembered how he’d looked in the coffee shop with sadness so huge in his eyes. How he’d leaned slightly away from her in his chair, placed right beside hers, so that their shoulders wouldn’t brush. As if he wanted to make it clear just how much distance he wanted. Well, he was in luck. She wanted distance, too. And yet, she felt sorry for him. Sorry because beneath his easy grin lurked a great grief, one so obvious how could Nanna even think he’d want to remarry? Not knowing what to say, Hope backed away, leaving the flashlight on the floor in case Matthew needed it, finding her way through the dark by touch and by memory. Matthew listened to her light step against the stairs, tapping away into silence. Hope had looked at him like a deer blinded by headlights. Maybe it was the spider or the way he refused to look at her at the meeting today. Either way, he knew he had to make things right. Since he couldn’t back out of his obligation to the committee, it looked like he’d be seeing Hope a lot during the preparations for the Founder’s Days dance. He didn’t want any strain or bruised feelings confusing things. As soon as he turned off the water and fixed Nora’s sink, he’d pull Hope aside and talk with her. Unfortunately, the old valve was rusted wide open, and he had to use every bit of his strength to turn it. The old metal groaned, and he whispered a prayer for the ancient pipes to hold. They did, and the rush of water faded into silence. Overhead he heard the soft tap of shoes—probably Hope’s. He tried not to think about that as he brushed the cobwebs off his shirt and retrieved the fallen flashlight. He hadn’t looked at a woman since he’d fallen in love with Kathy, and it bothered him. He didn’t know what to make of it as he headed upstairs. Hope was in the kitchen, guiding a mop across the floor. Sunlight spilled through the back door, highlighting the sheen of her dark hair and the agile grace in her slender arms. She knelt, wrung water from the mop into a bucket, then straightened. “You came to the rescue. Again.” “That I did. I even survived the spider.” He couldn’t get over the sight of Hope Ashton handling a mop. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. “You’re a braver person than I am.” She bent to work, swiping with practice. “Sharing dark cramped spaces with arachnids isn’t high on my list.” He knew she was from a wealthy family—she probably had her own housekeeper and cook, a chauffeur and gardener—but here she was in simple blue jeans and a light yellow T-shirt cleaning her grandmother’s floor with a steady competence. As if she mopped floors all the time. Not that Hope’s lifestyle was any of his business, he reminded himself and he forced his gaze away. But as he crossed the kitchen with water slick against his work boots, he could hear the stroke of Hope’s mop back and forth. “I’m going to have to replace this entire setup.” He checked under the sink to make sure. “Either that, or chances are this kitchen will end up flooded again.” “Then we’ll just have you fix it right.” Hope swiped her forearm across her brow. “Kirby took Nanna outside for some fresh air. I think she’s more upset than she’s letting on.” “She’s lived here, what, fifty years? It’s hard to see something you love damaged.” He eased onto his back and adjusted his pipe wrench, determined to concentrate on his job and not on Hope mopping the floor. “I’m going to take out the sink and all these pipes. Put in proper shutoff valves. She’ll even get a new faucet out of the deal. Lucky for you, I have a faucet in the carpenter boxes in the back of my truck—I get these emergencies often enough. It’s a nice white European one.” “Oh, boy. I can’t remember the last time a handsome man gave me a new faucet.” She was kidding—he knew that. But why did his pulse perk up? Did she really think he was handsome? He couldn’t see it—he doubted anyone else did, either. That was the thing that made him wary about women like Hope—easy flattery, a drop of kindness, it was superficial and not always innocent. He ought to remember that the next time he couldn’t stop looking at her. Disgusted with himself, he gave his wrench a hard twist, and the old pipe came loose from the wall. “So, you’ll be staying in town through Founder’s Days?” “If Nanna needs me that long.” Hope knelt to wring the mop. Water splashed into the bucket. “I’m sorry about the committee meeting. She’s just trying to throw us together. I hope you know I had nothing to do with that.” “I figured it out easy enough.” He slid out from beneath the sink and caught sight of Hope hefting the full bucket toward the back door, so at odds with what he expected from her. Maybe that’s why his gaze kept finding her in the room. “I believe you. Remember, my mom blackmailed me.” “Your own mother? That’s hard to believe. I remember how sweet she was.” Hope disappeared in the shimmer of the midday sun. “Sweet? Sure, she once was, I suppose. Then she became a grandmother and started meddling.” Hope breezed back inside, swinging the empty bucket, and her smile looked genuine enough to make his heart flip. She lifted one delicate brow. “Meddling?” “Yep. Mom decided she wanted more grandchildren so I needed another wife to provide her with some.” He concentrated on coaxing the broken faucet out from the tiled wall. “It’s a desperate situation.” “I understand that completely. Poor Nanna won’t be happy until she thinks I’m taken care of.” The mop smacked against the floor. “She isn’t satisfied when I say I can take care of myself. As if any man will do.” Any man. A common, middle-class working man. Matthew knew it wasn’t a fair way to think, but even though Hope Ashton looked kind and casual and good-hearted and even though she was mopping a floor, she was a millionaire’s daughter. She was a renowned photographer. She wasn’t looking for just any man. The pipe stuck, and he gave it a hard tug. It split into pieces and tumbled into the sink. “These pipes look as old as the house.” “I’m sure they are.” Hope swept past him, leaving a lingering trail of sweet, light perfume. “Grandfather was notoriously frugal. Do you think you can get the water at least running today?” “Sure can.” He shook his head at the rot where the pipes had been leaking for some time. Better to concentrate on his work. “This wall is going to have to be replaced. And this set of cupboards.” “Nanna is going to be heartbroken. Grandfather made those cabinets for her. They’re custom—” “I’m not a bad carpenter. I bet I can match them.” He couldn’t help teasing her, she looked so serious, so concerned. “Have a little faith, Hope.” “I’m trying.” She smiled, soft and sweet, and he noticed the way her dark curls caught the light, shimmering like rare silk. Heaven help him. A bell rang, spinning her toward the front door. Long locks flicked over her shoulder, glimmering with such beauty he couldn’t look away. She hustled from his sight, padding across the damp floor and into the dim recesses of the entry hall. He recognized Helen’s voice and then heard only silence. Hope must have taken her out to see Nora in the flower garden. Matthew headed out the back door to grab what he needed from his truck. He’d put in new pipe, valves and a faucet. An older lady with a broken leg needed running water. He figured the McKaslin family wouldn’t mind if he was a day late finishing their barn. “How are you and Matthew getting along?” Nanna asked after she’d greeted, Helen, her lifetime friend. “Did you notice how wide his shoulders are? I just love a man with broad shoulders.” “Then you flirt with him,” Hope teased as she tucked a cushion in the black metal chair for Helen. “Let me fetch some iced tea. I’ll be right back.” “She’s hurrying back to him.” Nanna’s loud whisper carried on the sweet breezes. “To look at his shoulders,” Helen teased. Okay, so his shoulders were broad. Hope hopped up the back steps and she couldn’t help it—her gaze found and traced the strong line of Matthew’s muscled arms, corded as he worked to set the new pipe in the wall. “Would you like some iced tea?” She reached into the cupboards for three glasses, determined not to notice his well-honed physique. “Sounds good.” He didn’t look up from his work. As if he were afraid to make eye contact with her. Why now? Then she noticed the windows were open, and Nanna’s voice lifted on the breeze through the window. He couldn’t have accidentally overheard what they were talking about, right? The curtains fluttered with a gust of wind. “Goodness, Hope is so alone. Matthew’s mom and I thought since they were both so lonely, we’d try to toss them together—” The curtain snapped closed, cutting off the rest of Nanna’s words. A cold feeling gripped Hope’s stomach. She felt her heart stop as she met Matthew’s gaze. “I guess that’s as close to a confession as we’re going to get.” He stretched a kink in his neck, flexing the muscles in his left shoulder and arm. “Our own families are working against us.” “Nanna just promised to stop—” Hope’s knees felt weak. “No, she didn’t exactly say that. She sort of skirted the issue and changed the subject. You heard her. She doesn’t sound one bit sorry.” “It sure didn’t sound that way.” Hope set the pitcher on the counter. She remembered how he’d looked in the coffee shop, lost and sad and brokenhearted. “I’m sorry, Matthew. This must be painful for you.” “I’m used to it.” His words were as warm as spring rain. “This is what I’ve been up against ever since the boys wanted a mother for their third birthday. My mom has been on a nonstop campaign to find me a wife, and now she’s involving her friends in the search.” “Like any woman will do, right?” It hurt to see the shadows in his eyes, so deep hazel and mingled with pain. She didn’t know what to say. How to comfort him. He laid a packaged faucet, shiny knobs wrapped in plastic, on the counter. “It sounds to me like these women are pretty determined. Just how do you think we can stop them?” “It’s going to be a long awkward summer unless we find a way.” Matthew rubbed the heel of his hand against his brow. He looked tired. He looked as if a world of burden rested on those wide shoulders. Her heart ached for him. She poured iced tea into the three tumblers, and then inspiration gripped her. “I know! Proverbs. ‘If you set a trap for others, you will get caught in it yourself.’” “You mean…” “Have you noticed how your mother and my grandmother have all this time on their hands? Notice how they both live alone.” “I noticed.” Light began to twinkle in Matthew’s eyes. “Poor lonely widows. With no one to take care of them.” Hope tugged the curtain aside and caught sight of Nanna in the garden shaded by the tall maple. “Nanna mentioned a certain older gentleman she thought was very attractive. Maybe there’s someone your mother might like….” “Hope, you’re a genius.” Matthew laughed, relief chasing away the shadows in his eyes and the furrows from his brow. “We turn the tables on them. And why not?” “That’s right. Why not?” She topped off the last tumbler and handed it to Matthew. “Your mother and my grandmother had no qualms about torturing us.” “That’s right. We find the two of them husbands, and they’ll be so happy they’ll forget all about us.” Matthew leaned against the counter and sipped his tea. “It’s not deceptive. After all, we’re bid to let love be our highest goal….” “Like Nanna said, it’s not good to be alone.” Hope felt the sunlight on her face, warm and sustaining. She knew Nanna wasn’t alone, not truly, but she also remembered how years had slipped from Nanna’s face at the thought of Matthew’s handsome grandfather-in-law. Nanna had spent too many years in this empty house watching for the mailman to slip letters into her box or waiting for the phone to ring. That was about to change. Hope could feel it down deep in her soul. Maybe that’s why the Lord had brought Matthew to her in the middle of that dangerous storm. And why Matthew stood here now. If God kept watch over the smallest sparrow, then surely He cared about the loneliness in an old woman’s heart. Chapter Four The new morning’s sun had already burned the dew off the ground as Hope made her way through the neighbor’s fields. Dark green, knee-high alfalfa swayed in the warm breezes and brushed her knees as she spotted the Joneses’ barn and the man kneeling on its steep peak, tacking down new gray shingles with a nail gun. She only had to look at him for her heart to flip in her chest. For one brief moment she noticed the wind tangling his collar-length hair and let her gaze wander over the lean hard height of him. In a white T-shirt and wash-worn jeans, he was a good-looking man. As if he felt her gaze, he glanced up from his work and shaded his eyes with one gloved hand. Then he waved in welcome. A prairie dog gave a chirp of alarm and scampered out of sight as Hope hurried through the field, alfalfa shoots brushing against her bare skin. Matthew disappeared from the roof only to reappear circling from behind the weathered barn, stripping off his work gloves. “Hey, I began to think you stood me up.” “I know, and I’m sorry. Nanna was in a lot of pain this morning and we couldn’t get her to eat. I finally tempted her with fresh cinnamon rolls, but it took more time than I figured.” She held up a paper sack. “I brought a peace offering, though. Figured you couldn’t be too mad with me if I brought sweets.” “A wise woman.” “No, a grateful one. You’ve helped me twice now, and I’m indebted. The cinnamon rolls are only a start.” “You don’t owe me a thing.” Matthew flicked his gaze away toward the west side of the barn where shade stretched over soft grasses in an empty corral. “I’ve got a cooler with juice over here. Let’s get down to business.” “Sure.” She followed him past the wooden posts, worn gray from time and the elements, and when she saw the blanket spread out on the small patch of wild grasses, she realized that Matthew had gone to some trouble. She regretted being late. “Tell me how the new kitchen plumbing is working out,” he said over his shoulder as he knelt down in front of a battered blue cooler. “Nanna’s happy with your work, but she’s fretting over the ruined cabinet.” “It shouldn’t be long until I have the replacement for her. I planned on tooling it in my workshop at home this weekend. Tell her I won’t forget to come by and make the cabinet as good as new.” “Oh, I think she can’t wait to get us in the same house together.” Drawing closer, Hope knelt on one edge of the fleece blanket. “After you left last night, she kept going on and on about all your wonderful attributes.” “She had to resort to lying, huh?” His eyes twinkled with merriment. And she felt that twinkle in her heart. “I can see a few good things about you, Matthew, not that either of us is interested in the way Nanna thinks. I tried to tell her that you were more interested in fixing her ancient pipes than in making small talk with me, but she wanted to know every single word we exchanged when we were alone in her kitchen.” “She couldn’t hear us well enough from the garden, huh?” “That’s what I thought, too.” Hope unfolded the neat crease at the top of her sack, and the fresh scent of frosting and cinnamon made her stomach rumble. Matthew handed her an unopened juice box and knelt down a fair distance from her. “My mom was singing your praises last night when I went to pick up my boys. She had that same look in her eyes that Nora had.” “You’re right, they are shameless meddlers and they need to be taught a lesson.” She held out the bag to him. He reached inside and withdrew a gooey pastry. “Now I’m doubly grateful you came by. These cinnamon rolls are the best things I’ve seen in a long time. Nora’s baking is famous county-wide.” “Nora’s recipe, but I baked them.” “You?” Did he have to look so surprised? “Hey, I have my uses. I packed enough for you to take home to your boys.” She took one sticky roll and plopped the bag on the blanket between them. “Now, wipe that shocked look off your face and tell me. Do you have any idea who your mom might be interested in?” “Not one. I’ll have to pry into her life a little, like she’s been doing to mine lately.” He sank his teeth into the roll and moaned. “I took a long hard look at Mom last night, and I figure she’s got to be lonely. I’ve got my boys, but when the day is done, she’s alone.” “Nanna’s the same way. It’s got to be sad. All the work they did and the sacrifices they made to raise their families, and now, when they should be enjoying their lives, they have no one to share with.” “Do you know how we can fix that?” “Not really. I was hoping you’d have a brilliant idea and get me off the hook.” “Give me another cinnamon roll and we’ll see what I can come up with.” He’s deeply lonely, too. Again, Hope felt it with the same certainty as the gentle breezes on her face. She wondered if he sat up at night, watching the late shows or reading to the end of a book just to keep from going to bed alone, as she did. She wondered if he, too, had a hard time sleeping with the dark and the silence of the night, when prayer could only ease the empty space…. “Nanna let it slip that she has a crush on Harold.” “Kathy’s grand dad?” Matthew nodded slowly as he helped himself to another roll. “I noticed Helen fought to sit next to him at the Founder’s Days committee meeting, but I didn’t know Nora was interested in him, too.” “He wouldn’t be lonely, would he?” “He’s been a widower as long as I have.” Matthew stared down at the pastry and didn’t take a bite, the sadness in his eyes stark and unmistakable. Maybe Nanna was right, Hope considered. Maybe, every now and then, true love was possible. Every now and then. “I’m taking the boys to see him at his ranch this weekend. Between chasing after my sons, I’ll try to figure out if Harold is interested in Nora.” “And if he is, we could casually set them up so they wouldn’t know it was us. Something not as obvious as what they did to us on the Founder’s Days committee.” “Sounds like a good plan.” Matthew took a bite of the roll, but the sadness remained in his eyes. The breeze tangled his hair, tossing a dark hank over his brow, and she fought the urge to brush it away, fought the urge to reach out and try to comfort him. “How’s the roof coming along?” she asked, not knowing what else to say to change the direction of their conversation. She stood, drawn toward the ladder stretching twenty feet in the air, and studied the roof’s steeply pitched slope. “Do you mind if I climb up?” “Yeah, I mind.” He leaped to his feet, all business, square jaw set and hands fisted. “You could fall, and then what would I say to your grandmother?” “I won’t fall.” She spun around, taking in the expanse of the river valley bright with the colors of spring, and ached for her camera. “Okay, I’m not interested in your roofing job, but on the walk over here my mind clicked back to work and I could get a great view from up there.” “You can get a great view of the valley from the road.” “Yeah, but I’m already here.” She grabbed hold of the ladder and fit her sneaker onto the weathered rung. “Hope, I’m not kidding. You’re going to break your neck.” But he didn’t sound too upset with her. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw that he was holding the ladder steady for her and shaking his head as if to say women didn’t belong on ladders. Well, she wouldn’t be on for long. “I appreciate this, Matthew.” “If you weren’t helping me out with my mom, I’d let go of this ladder.” “Sure you would. You’re too nice of a guy.” “That’s only according to rumor. You can’t trust everything you hear.” “Nanna says a man who can raise three small boys at the same time has to have the patience of Job and the temperament of an angel.” “Either that or he’s on psychiatric medication.” Hope stumbled onto the roof, laughing, but Matthew hadn’t fooled her. Sure, he was joking, but there was no way he could disguise the patience and good humor lighting him up from within, not quite chasing away his sadness. It touched her somewhere deep inside her well-defended heart. How was it that this man could affect her so much and so quickly? “Be careful up there.” The ladder rubbed against the weathered eaves with each step Matthew took as he climbed higher. “I don’t want to have to explain to Nora how I let her only granddaughter tumble off a barn roof. I’d never get work from her again.” “Repeat business is all that matters, is it?” “Sure.” He hopped onto the roof with an athletic prowess that drew Hope’s gaze, and a slow smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth. “Now before you start running around up here, some of the shingles aren’t tacked down yet.” “I noticed that. Really.” Wisps had escaped from her ponytail, and she swept them back with one hand. “Between you and Nanna, I feel like an awkward kid again. Stop worrying about me, okay? I’m not going to take a nosedive off the barn. I’ve been on a roof before.” “Not as often as I have, I bet.” He curved his hand around her elbow, holding her secure. “Just in case.” “I’m not afraid of heights.” “I am.” “You? Manhattan’s best carpenter?” “My roof jobs would dry up if word like that got around. You’ll keep my secret, right?” His grip on her arm remained, sure and steady, keeping her safe. “I don’t know,” she teased in turn, heading toward the roof’s peak. “Seems to me keeping a secret like that could be worth some money.” He chuckled, rich and deep, and it somehow moved through her even though they hardly touched. Like a vibration of warmth and sunlight, she felt it, and when her sneaker hit a loose shingle, his grip on her arm held her steady even before she could stumble. His touch remained, branding her with his skin’s heat, and she almost stumbled again. Why was her heart beating as if she’d run a mile? With every step she took, she was aware of the way he moved beside her—the easy, athletic movements as he escorted her safely to the peak of the sloped roof. No, she wasn’t attracted to him. He was simply being a gentleman, as he’d been when he’d carried her luggage and driven her home on the night of the storm. A gentleman, nothing more and nothing less, and even if that was attractive to her, she didn’t need to panic. He was no threat to her heart. No threat at all. She faced the wind, and the sweet country breezes lifted the hair from her brow and whirred in her ears. Sunlight slanted in ragged, luminous fingers from the wide blue sky to the rich green earth. “I should have brought my camera. Look at the cloud shadow on those hills.” “The Tobacco Roots.” He nodded toward the wrinkled hills in the distance, rugged and rocky, in contrast to the regal Rockies to the West. “Kathy and I used to hike there before the boys were born. We tried it once afterward, carting the three of them in backpacks, but they were hot and miserable and, unfortunately, teething. We decided not to make that mistake again.” “Scared away the wildlife, did they?” “I still think half the deer never did return to their natural habitat. The park ranger threatened to ticket us.” He shrugged one capable shoulder but his grin didn’t reach all the way to his eyes. “I remember Kathy. She was two years behind us in school, wasn’t she?” “Yes.” A muscle worked in his jaw as he towered over her, his back to the sun, his face shadowed. Hope sat on the hot shingles, emotions tangled into a knot in her stomach. She didn’t want to say anything more that would make sadness shade his eyes. “How old are your boys?” “Three, almost four. Their birthday is in July.” “Triplets. That must be a handful.” “When Kathy was alive, it was almost manageable. When we finally got them on the same sleeping schedule, that is.” The sadness crept into his eyes anyway as he sat down beside her, leaving a deliberate space between them. “Right now I’m between housekeepers. It’s hard to find someone with the right temperament.” “I bet it isn’t easy keeping up with triplets.” “It’s not impossible. They are something, I’ll tell you that, always going in different directions at once, but I wouldn’t trade ’em for the world.” The wind tossed dark shocks of hair over his brow as he looked everywhere but at her. “I haven’t seen the world like you have, heck, I haven’t even been out of Montana, but I have everything I want right now. I have my boys and that’s all I need.” “Then you’re a lucky man.” “I’m not going to argue with you about that.” His voice dipped and he turned away from her to study the valley spread out before them. As the silence lengthened, Hope tried to pretend she wasn’t touched by what she’d seen in Matthew’s eyes and heard unspoken in his words, but she failed. She was touched. Anyone could see a father’s steadfast love in him as certain as the warm sun overhead. Not that what lived in Matthew’s heart was any of her business. Maybe this jumpy, skittery feeling wasn’t an attraction to Matthew at all. Maybe she was itching to start working again. That’s it. “I’d better get back before Nanna misses me.” Matthew stood, not meeting her gaze, and offered his hand. She straightened on her own, not certain if she could touch him one more time. She wasn’t attracted to him…and she didn’t want her physical reaction to him proving her wrong. “Looks like we’re in trouble.” Without looking at her, he nodded across the field toward the dirt road, where a dust plume rose behind a sedate burgundy sedan. “It’s my mom. No, there’s no time to run. There she is. We’re busted.” The look of dismay on Hope’s face told Matthew she didn’t like the prospect of being caught alone with him, and he couldn’t blame her. Mom would jump to conclusions and only take seeing them together as encouragement. He held the ladder for Hope so she could climb down safely. She knelt and carefully placed her designer sneakers on the top rung. “Sure, send me down first into enemy territory.” “Better you than me. Mom will show you mercy.” “Not if she’s anything like Nanna.” Her attempt at humor touched him because she couldn’t like this situation. It was absurd that anyone would think that a small-town carpenter belonged anywhere near a millionaire’s daughter. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” The words rang on the air the instant the passenger door of Mom’s car swung open. As Hope finished descending, Matthew watched his sons race full out toward the fence until Mom shouted at them to wait and not touch the barbed wire. Hope lighted on the ground and tilted her head back to look at him. “I didn’t know they were identical.” “Keeps things interesting.” “I bet it does.” She covered her eyes with her free hand and squinted through the glaring sun to watch the triplets tumble into the field. He started down the ladder, descending quickly. Already Mom was helping the boys through the fence and there was no mistaking the look of delight in that grin of hers, which he could see plainly from across the field. This wasn’t what he needed. Mom would think she was on the right track and start really pushing. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” The triplets plowed through the sweet-smelling alfalfa and scrambled to him, arms flung open. Matthew barely had time to brace himself before the boys threw their arms around his knees and held on tight, bouncing and shouting. “Did you three give your gramma so much trouble she decided to give you back?” “It was tempting,” Mom teased over the racket of the boys talking at once. He heard the words “fire,” “fireman” and “big truck.” “Agnes had a small kitchen fire and wanted you to give her an estimate on the damage.” “You could have called, Mom.” Matthew lifted Josh onto his hip. “Yes, but you know I hate talking to that beeper thing of yours. Hope, what a pleasure to see you again.” Mom practically beamed as she approached the slim woman who stood off by herself, as if not sure what to think of them all. “I heard from Nora you were in town.” “She finally figured out a way to get me back here.” Hope took Mom’s hand, her manner warm, as if she wasn’t upset in the slightest. “It’s good to see you again, Patsy.” The boys demanded Matthew’s attention, telling him everything about the sirens and the big red truck, but his gaze kept straying to the woman talking with his mother, whose girl-next-door freshness was at odds with everything he remembered about Hope Ashton from high school. “Is that lady gonna take us?” Josh asked, both fists tight in Matthew’s T-shirt. The other boys turned to frown at Hope, and before Matthew could answer, she did. “No, but I did bring you boys something.” Hope swirled away from his mother and snatched the paper bag from the blanket. Of course, his mother took one look at the blanket, not an item he usually took to work with him, and lifted one curious—or was that accusing?—eyebrow. Ian took one step forward, interested in Hope’s paper bag. “Cookies?” “Candy?” Kale looked tempted. Josh buried his face in Matthew’s shoulder and held on tight. Matthew watched as Hope shook her head, dark wisps tangling in the wind, and knelt down, opening the sack. “If you boys don’t like cinnamon rolls, I could eat them all by myself—” “Cinnamon rolls?” Kale shot forward, not caring if this woman was a stranger. “Like the kind Gramma makes? With frosting?” “With frosting.” Ian scrambled closer. “Does it got raisins? Don’t like raisins.” “No raisins, but they do have icing. Go ahead and try one.” Hope shook the bag, as if she were trying to coax them closer. Huge mistake. Matthew set out to rescue her as both boys plunged their hands into the sack, fighting for the biggest roll. But Hope only laughed, a warm gentle sound that made him stop and really look at her, at this outsider who had never quite belonged in their small Montana town. She didn’t look like an outsider now. Her faded denims hugged her slender legs with an easy casualness, and her T-shirt was probably a big-label brand, but the cherry-red color brought out the bronzed hue of her skin and the gleam of laughter in her eyes. She didn’t look like a millionaire’s daughter and an established photographer. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/jillian-hart/heaven-sent/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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