Книга - Lakeside Sweetheart

Lakeside Sweetheart
Lenora Worth


An Unexpected HomecomingReturning to her hometown to clear out her late mother's house, Vanessa Donovan’s goal is to do the job quickly and escape. She refuses to get involved with Rory Sanderson, her handsome neighbor. And she can't let herself be dazzled by his smile and caring ways. Because if there’s one thing Vanessa won't do is fall for a minister. While the pastor in Rory wants to mend Vanessa’s wounds, the man in him can't resist the beautiful woman. But in helping her, Vanessa is doing the unthinkable—healing his own deep scars and opening his heart—if he can convince her that love is worth the risk.Men of Millbrook Lake: Four men find love and family







An Unexpected Homecoming

Returning to her hometown to clear out her late mother’s house, Vanessa Donovan’s goal is to do the job quickly and escape. She refuses to get involved with Rory Sanderson, her handsome neighbor. And she can’t let herself be dazzled by his smile and caring ways. Because if there’s one thing Vanessa won’t do, it’s fall for a minister. While the pastor in Rory wants to mend Vanessa’s wounds, the man in him can’t resist the beautiful woman. But while he’s helping her, Vanessa is doing the unthinkable—healing his own deep scars and opening his heart...if he can convince her that love is worth the risk.


“You don’t have to be alone.”

“I don’t need help.” She panicked as she imagined him being at the house with her every day, watching her.

As he walked away, he said over his shoulder, “I hope one day you stop seeing me as the enemy and let me be your friend.”

“I can’t,” she said, tears burning her eyes. He was a minister. “I can’t be your friend, Rory.”

“Or you can’t let me be your friend?” Before she could answer, he turned back. “I came here today because I saw someone in need. Not as a minister but as a person.”

And then he was gone.

Vanessa wanted to run after him. But she had to be strong and fight the temptation. She’d taken care of herself for a long time now. Why should she believe a sweet-talking preacher who made her feel safe?

Her confusing thoughts about Rory had to stop. Because growing close to him would be a bad idea.

So why did she want to believe him?


With sixty books published and millions in print, LENORA WORTH writes award-winning romance and romantic suspense. Three of her books finaled in the ACFW Carol Awards, and her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence became a New York Times bestseller. Her novella in Mistletoe Kisses made her a USA TODAY bestselling author. Lenora goes on adventures with her retired husband, Don, and enjoys reading, baking and shopping…especially shoe shopping.


Lakeside Sweetheart

Lenora Worth




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Jesus said to her, Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.

—John 4:13–14


To my cousin Nancy Anderson.

So glad you are back in our lives!


Contents

Cover (#ub6ba67a6-0711-5828-8143-aed2c7c4aa7e)

Back Cover Text (#ucf44b351-67fe-500b-b298-0c3f9563a4a8)

Introduction (#u2aad6fd1-be4d-56b8-af8c-ed13155a27e8)

About the Author (#u03a2f1fd-c3a8-501a-b376-140979489b14)

Title Page (#u2a5f1dd1-460d-501e-b699-fb3656986949)

Bible Verse (#ueb3d578d-0b29-5038-9eb2-0886a8ab7475)

Dedication (#ufb4d5a42-eb6f-5e62-b90b-21789bced470)

Chapter One (#u97d8fcf6-cd61-5cfb-b867-1e6328750f88)

Chapter Two (#u6d123e7b-0392-5945-8145-27e63253f8be)

Chapter Three (#u0053a994-07d8-58eb-b555-9b56ed4f87b0)

Chapter Four (#uefe259a4-3d65-5ba7-8253-3939f692f599)

Chapter Five (#u74239be1-ae7a-57f2-bfc7-0e0d4dc4531c)

Chapter Six (#uc706ec86-0150-5999-91f6-78ba5033924c)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_f16760fc-ee38-551f-ae8e-e1d610bc04b9)

He always noticed new faces at church.

As minister of the Millbrook Lake Church, Rory Sanderson had a bird’s-eye view of the entire congregation, including everyone from Mrs. Fanny Fitzpatrick in her fake-fruit-covered straw hat to Alec Caldwell’s aunt Hattie in her pearls and baby-blue pillbox.

But one person stood out today more than all the others.

Maybe because her discomfort could have shattered the rows of stained glass windows lining each side of the tiny chapel. The doubtful expression made her look a little lost, but her light brown hair shimmered with a luster that reminded him of sea oats at sunrise. He couldn’t tell much about her eyes. She wore dark shades.

But he felt pretty sure those hidden eyes were staring straight at him. She must be one of those. Someone had obviously invited her to the service today. And she so did not want to be here.

Rory took that as a challenge. He accepted the woman’s distrust with a smile and a prayer. That was his job, after all. To turn that frown upside down. To bring the lost home. To make the backsliders and unbelievers faithful. Especially on such a beautiful spring day. A day full of rebirth and renewal. The best kind of day.

Easter Sunday.

The whole flock, maybe the whole town, had turned out in their Easter finery. And they all had smiles on their faces.

Except for that one, of course. The one in the pretty yellow dress that reminded him of picnics and wildflowers, wearing those dark Wayfarers and that shell-shocked expression. And Rory had to wonder. What had made this woman so reluctant to be here today?

* * *

“You could try smiling,” Marla Caldwell said into Vanessa Donovan’s ear. “It won’t break your face.”

“I told you I don’t do church,” Vanessa replied, uneasiness making her fidget. Tugging her turquoise floral wrap over her bare arms, she glanced around. “I only came because you invited me. And because I want some of that good food your mother and Aunt Hattie bribed us with—I mean—promised to us—for Sunday dinner.”

“They are not above bribery,” Marla said with a grin, her red-gold ponytail bouncing. “But church will do you good, you’ll see. It sure can’t hurt you.”

Marla could afford to tease. She was still a newlywed. Happy and settled and very much in love with a former marine who lived in a big Victorian house not far from Vanessa’s smaller Craftsman-style cottage. After a Christmas wedding, Marla and her cute preschooler, Gabby, now lived in that rambling house with handsome Alec Caldwell and his adorable aunt Hattie and two dogs. One big, happy family.

Something Vanessa would never have. But she didn’t care about all of that anyway, she reminded herself.

Glad for her friend, Vanessa remembered she didn’t believe in that sort of thing. She was a realist who’d decided long ago that marriage and family weren’t for her. Marla teased her about being too pessimistic and cynical, but Vanessa was practical and resolved. Resolved to a life that didn’t include a long-term relationship or attending church or bouncing a baby on her lap.

“I’m not quite ready to dive right in,” Vanessa said, her eyes on the cute guy up front greeting everyone as if he owned the place. “What’s the story with Surfer Dude?”

Marla giggled. “You mean Preacher? His name is Rory Sanderson. He does look like a surfer with that dark-blond hair, and he’s pretty good at surfing and a lot of other things, now that I think about it. But his real passion is right here inside this church. He’s our minister and he’s good at his job. Amazing, considering he’s all alone. No wife or children. Every matron in this congregation has tried to fix him up, but I think he’s holding out for someone special.”

Vanessa shook her head, shocked that someone so young and, well, hip, could be a preacher. “Right. Or he’s so caught up in himself that he doesn’t really see the audience.”

“Not an audience. A congregation,” Marla replied. “And you’re wrong about Rory. He doesn’t have an ego.” She waved to a couple who sat down behind them and then pointed them out to Vanessa. “That’s Alec’s best friend, Blain Kent—he’s also a former marine and is now a detective with the Millbrook Police—and his fiancée, Rikki Alvanetti. She’s an interior designer. They’re getting married in a few weeks.”

Vanessa nodded and smiled at the couple. They’d make pretty babies since they both had dark hair and expressive eyes—hers almost black and his deep blue—and looked exotic and buff. And happy.

Everyone in this place seemed happy.

Chiding herself for being in such a snarky mood, she turned back to the front again. That minister seemed to be watching her. This hour couldn’t get over with fast enough.

Then because she did feel guilty even thinking that, Vanessa lifted her eyes to one of the beautiful stained glass windows and asked God to give her a better perspective.

When she lowered her gaze, the cute preacher with the boyish grin and the dark-blond wind-tossed hair looked right at her and smiled. And then he did something even more daring. He came down from the front of the church and headed straight to the pew where Vanessa sat.

“Is he going to—”

“Yes, he is,” Marla said with a grin. When he stopped near them, she said, “Preacher Rory, this is my friend Vanessa Donovan. She moved back to town a couple of weeks ago.”

“Not moved back,” Vanessa corrected. “I came back to take care of some things.”

The preacher took Vanessa’s hand, shaking it lightly before he stood back and smiled, his baby blue eyes centered on Vanessa as if she were the only person in this place. “It’s nice to meet you, Vanessa. Welcome to Millbrook Lake Church.”

“Uh...thanks,” Vanessa said, a white heat of embarrassment moving up her spine. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

He spoke to a few more people and then turned back to Vanessa. “Happy Easter.”

She watched as he headed toward the back and greeted almost everyone else who entered the open double doors. “He’s so friendly,” she whispered to Marla. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

Marla glanced back and then turned to Vanessa. “You know, you need to let go of that cynical attitude. Preacher is solid. He’s a good man. He was a chaplain in the army.”

“What?” Vanessa looked over her shoulder. “That sunny, happy, goofy man served in the military?”

“He sure did,” Marla replied. “And...he wasn’t always so sunny and happy and goofy.”

Faith is the substance of things hoped for...

Vanessa thought about that verse of scripture on the short ride back to Alec and Marla’s house. Why did that particular verse seem to move through her like the blue waters of the big oval lake centered in the middle of town?

Maybe it wasn’t the verse so much as the preacher who’d read it. Rory Sanderson didn’t preach. He talked. In a quiet, friendly tone that made you think he really was talking to you and only you. Which irritated Vanessa. She didn’t want to like the man, but some of what he’d said made sense.

She had listened, too. He’d pointed out how Jesus liked to hang out with the misfits and the outsiders. How a lot of those kinds of people were there during His Crucifixion.

But she had to wonder if the misfits and losers had been allowed in the church today. Everyone at the service had seemed so fresh faced and full of joy. Were they all that happy, or had they been hiding their pain behind a pretty facade?

Vanessa didn’t know and it really didn’t matter. She probably wouldn’t go back to Millbrook Lake Church. She hadn’t been to church in a long, long time. And she didn’t plan on staying in Millbrook for too long either.

Clean out the house. Sell the house. Pocket the cash. Get on with her life. Whatever that life might be. Right now, she had a solid team looking out for her interests, and she had a boutique and online business waiting for her back in New Orleans. So she took a deep breath and decided she’d try to be grateful for being invited to share a nice meal with Marla’s family. She could deal with other people’s families, but she did not need one of her own.

Pulling her small car up to the side drive next to Caldwell House, Vanessa got out and took in the scents of jasmine and wisteria, thankful that she didn’t have to spend this gorgeous day alone.

But when she looked up and saw a man strolling up the sidewalk, she silently groaned.

The preacher headed toward her. And she had the sinking feeling he would be at Sunday dinner, too.

* * *

Rory waved to the woman who emerged from the cute little blue vintage roadster. Vanessa Donovan, still wearing those shades. She’d taken them off during the service, but he had yet to see her eyes up close. He’d been too busy preaching it to a full house. Now he might be able to have some one-on-one time with the interesting woman who stood staring at him as if she wanted to get back in the car and haul herself far away from here.

“How are you?” he asked, determined to make her take off those ridiculously big shades. He was pretty sure they were missing from the 1960s, too. And maybe even the dress.

But she made all of these old-fashioned things fresh and new.

“I’m good.” She held a straw purse embellished with a big white daisy that Mrs. Fitzpatrick would surely love and met him at the intricate gate to the back garden. “I...I enjoyed your sermon.”

Polite but cool. “Thank you. I’m glad you made it to the service today. How do you know Marla?”

She looked relieved to move away from the topic of church. “We were friends in high school briefly and then we ran into each other in Tallahassee before I moved to New Orleans. I’m so glad she’s found someone. She deserves to be happy.” Then she winced. “Oh, wow. That sounded so cliché.”

Rory laughed and walked with her up the steps onto the back porch. Aunt Hattie and Marla had the porch decorated with white lace tablecloths and all kinds of fresh flowers. “But it’s true. Marla and Alec are meant for each other. They had their wedding reception right here in the garden, in December.”

“So I heard. Sounds beautiful.”

“And romantic,” he said with a grin. “One of the many perks of my job. I presided over their vows. Chilly weather but warm atmosphere.”

She finally took off her shades and gave him a doubting stare with big hazel eyes that went from brown to green in a beautiful flash. But before Rory could counter her skeptical expression with something positive, the back door opened and little Gabby came running out, followed by two dogs.

“Hello, Uncle Rory,” Gabby said, squealing in delight as both animals ran circles around Rory and Vanessa. “Angus, stop. Roxie, quit being so silly.”

Rory squatted down and smiled at Gabby, careful not to get too close. The four-year-old had the little poodle Roxie for a reason, and Roxie sometimes wore a service vest for a reason. The tiny dog was trained to keep Gabby calm whenever she felt threatened or afraid. Which happened less and less these days, thankfully. The little girl had gone through a lot of trauma after being involved in a robbery that took her daddy’s life.

“Hello, Gabby,” he said. “This is my new friend, Vanessa. Don’t you love her pretty dress?”

Gabby grabbed Roxie and stood back to stare up at Vanessa with big brown eyes. Bobbing her head in agreement with Rory’s question, she asked, “Are you eating dinner with us?”

“I am,” Vanessa said, clearly uncomfortable with the whole Sunday-dinner thing. Or maybe the child made her uncomfortable. “Is that okay?”

Gabby showed a snaggletoothed grin. “Yes, ma’am. Are you hungry? We have ham and mashed potatoes and asp-per-gus. I don’t like that, though.”

“I don’t either,” Rory said, grinning. “But I love me some mashed potatoes.”

“And I like ham and asparagus,” Vanessa said. “I hear your mother made cupcakes and pies, too.”

Gabby did a little back and forth sway, her print dress swishing. “Uh-huh. She made Easter cupcakes with bunnies and flowers and grass. I’m gonna eat two.”

“And I’ll eat three at least,” Rory said, glad that Vanessa was warming up to the little girl. Gabby would sense it if Vanessa wasn’t comfortable.

“Hello there.” Aunt Hattie came strolling out, her arms wide open and her cheeky smile warm. “Welcome, welcome. I’m so glad you’re both here and that you found each other out there.”

“We did,” Rory said, shooting Vanessa an encouraging glance. “Ran into each other by the gate.”

“Did that hurt?” Gabby asked, her eyes wide again.

Aunt Hattie hooted with laughter. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

“I don’t know yet,” Rory said, his gaze still on Vanessa. “It wasn’t too painful to me. How about you, Vanessa?”

She smiled and shook her head. “We’re fine, Gabby.”

Then she walked with Aunt Hattie into the house, leaving Rory to wonder if he’d ever be fine again.

Of all the people he’d seen in church this morning, why did this woman have to be the one who’d come to dinner at the Caldwells’? And why did she have to be the one who’d left him wondering and wanting to help her when he didn’t even know what she needed?

Why not?

God always put people in certain places for a reason. Vanessa was here for a reason. Rory should know better than anyone that humans didn’t make their own paths.

Sometimes God put a woman in a bright yellow dress right smack-dab in the middle of the road so she could be found.

And sometimes He stopped a hopeful preacher cold in his tracks just to keep him on his toes. For a brief moment guilt gnawed at his conscience, but Rory took in the scent of flowers all around him and nodded. No matter what happened, this spring was glorious.


Chapter Two (#ulink_1ddfe3aa-3ef6-5a69-8abd-752d58b7b587)

Vanessa strolled around the big rambling backyard at Caldwell House, her mind on everything she had to get done during the next few weeks.

“Tea?”

Rory handed her a refill while they watched Gabby, with Roxie right on her heels, searching for Easter eggs in the many dish gardens and potted palms displayed all around the colorful yard.

“Thank you.” Vanessa took the goblet of dark tea flavored with lemon. Not knowing what else to say, she smiled. “What a meal.”

She’d enjoyed listening to the easy banter, the tiny bits of good-natured gossip and the news of the week. Millbrook Lake was growing now that the local economy had finally improved. She knew Alec had a lot to do with that since he’d returned home. She hadn’t kept up much with Millbrook Lake. Mainly because she’d never planned to return here.

“I’ll say.” Rory rubbed his flat stomach. “I shouldn’t have had pie and cupcakes, but the cooking around here is so good I always double up when I get invited for Sunday dinner.”

She had to laugh. Watching him eat had been an event in itself. “Do you get invited to lunch and dinner a lot?”

“Sure. And breakfast, too. A perk of the job. People love to feed the preacher. Especially since this preacher lives alone.”

She glanced over at him and saw a darkness moving through his eyes like a cloud over a clear sky. She wanted to ask him about that, but he looked straight ahead and watched Gabby with a quiet intensity that belied his cheerful nature.

“The meal was amazing,” she said, suddenly unsure around him. Suddenly remembering that she had not wanted to be around him. And yet, here she stood. But she also thought about Marla’s words to her earlier about him not always being so sunny, happy and goofy.

She could handle cheerful and friendly. Those were easy emotions. But imagining Rory Sanderson sad made her concerned and curious. Though wary around men of the cloth, she didn’t want to think of this man as anything other than what he seemed. His carefree nature didn’t appear at all threatening.

But then, she shouldn’t be thinking of him anyway. He was the preacher. A man of God. Certainly not her type. Not that she was looking. She’d sworn off any long-term relationships, and she certainly wasn’t ready for anything else. She thought of the tiny church up the road and willed herself to push away the memories of another church that had been located on the outskirts of town. Gone now. Torn down for new commercial real estate.

“I don’t normally eat so much,” she continued in the small-talk vein. “But Aunt Hattie is famous for her meals, and Marla is amazing with sugar and flour and butter.”

“A dynamic duo,” he said, the smile bright on his face again. “I need a long Sunday-afternoon nap.”

She could picture him kicked back in a recliner, snoring softly. That did make her smile.

“I’d think you don’t get to rest much,” she blurted to get rid of that warm, fuzzy feeling. “I mean, being a minister.”

“I get eight hours of sleep most nights, but things happen. A death, a birth, a trip to the ER, a hospital visit now and then.” He gave her a quick but concise glance. “Sometimes people need to talk, even in the middle of the night.”

Vanessa got that image in her head, too. Her reaching for the phone, calling him. Telling him her worst fears.

She tried again with the small talk. “And you have to be there for all of those things.”

“Spoken like someone who might know.”

“I don’t know much,” she said, her tone sharp in her own ears. She didn’t like the direction this conversation seemed to be heading—toward her. “But it’s obvious enough.”

“I guess it is,” he said, his words somber now. “My reputation precedes me.”

He’d misunderstood. Most people did whenever she made disparaging remarks regarding church. But she never explained her reasons for staying away from organized religion.

She wanted to say it wasn’t his reputation she based her assumption on, but those of other people. Only, she wasn’t ready to get that personal with him. She didn’t plan on being around this man after today anyway. She had plenty to keep her busy.

“You seem to be popular with your people,” she said.

“God’s people,” he corrected with a smile. “I try to help them along.”

They came to a big swing centered underneath an arbor covered with jasmine. The fragrant scent of the tiny yellow-and-white flowers and the droning hum of bees made Vanessa wish for something she couldn’t even define.

“Want to sit and watch the egg hunt?” he asked.

She glanced at the swing and then back at him. “I don’t know. I mean, I should be going. I have a lot to do tomorrow.” Needing to explain, she added, “I’m here to clean out my mother’s house. She died a few weeks ago.”

His expression turned compassionate. “I’m sorry. Did she live here?”

“She used to. She moved to a retirement and nursing facility in Alabama. She hadn’t lived here in years.”

He nodded, his expressive face couched in a calm that made him change from boyish to good-looking. “I get a day off tomorrow. If you need any help.”

“I don’t think so. This is one of your busy weekends. You need to rest after your big day.”

“Yes. But then, I consider every Sunday a big day.”

Vanessa gave him a hesitant smile. “I think I’ll go and tell the others I’m leaving. It was nice to meet you—”

“Rory,” he said. “Call me Rory.”

She nodded and headed back to where Marla and her parents were helping Gabby find the colorful eggs. The little girl giggled and showed off her treasures while Roxie squeaked out excited barks and ran circles around the adults.

Angus watched the whole show from a warm spot on the brick terrace near the porch. The older Border collie didn’t have a care in the world.

Aunt Hattie met her near the house. “We’re so glad you came today, Vanessa. I hope you’ll visit again.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Vanessa said. “The food was so good, Aunt Hattie.”

“Nothing like a home-cooked meal to nourish us, even if it does require a few extra calories.”

Vanessa hadn’t had many home-cooked meals growing up. “I can’t argue with that.” She hugged Aunt Hattie, the scent of sweet almond surrounding her. “I have to go, but I wanted to thank you again. Let me tell Marla I’m leaving.”

“Oh, she wrapped you a plate,” Aunt Hattie said. “I’ll go fetch it.”

Vanessa didn’t need a plate full of leftovers, but she wouldn’t be impolite by turning it down. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wished she’d had this kind of family growing up. But in that other place, the dark spot that colored her world in grays and browns, she figured she didn’t deserve this kind of family.

She wished someone had trained her in proper manners or on how to actually conduct small talk. She wished she’d been happy in any of the many places her mother had dragged her. She wished she’d had nice clothes and pretty things.

And she really wished she’d had someone to truly love her.

But she couldn’t change any of that now. Vanessa had learned about all of these things mostly on her own by studying people and reading books and watching television and movies. She’d learned how to dress by working in retail and devouring fashion magazines and with the help of her mother’s last husband, Richard Tucker, who’d taken them on shopping trips. And she’d learned how to stay on her budget by shopping vintage and reworking second-hand clothes.

She still had to learn the truly-loving-her part. She didn’t always love herself very much.

She sent Rory a brief glance and then dropped her gaze to her sandals.

“Hey, I’ll come by next week and help you out with getting ready for the estate sale,” Marla said as she hurried up to Vanessa. “I’ll even find some able-bodied helpers to do the heavy lifting.” She cast a glance toward Rory. “An estate sale is a big job.”

A job Vanessa dreaded. “Yes. But...it has to be done.”

“Are you gonna be okay, doing this?” Marla asked, her green eyes full of understanding and sympathy.

“I’ll be fine.” Vanessa glanced over to where Alec sat at a round wrought iron table with Rory. Were they actually having more cupcakes? “I have to get the house ready to sell, and I can’t do that until I empty it out.”

“Your mother was a pack rat from what I hear,” Marla said with a smile. “I know this has been hard, Vanessa.”

Vanessa nodded. “Yep. Especially since she and I never got along.” She stared at the swing, where she could be sitting right now with Rory. “I guess I’ll get to know her a little more now that she’s dead, at least. I never could figure her out when she was alive.”

“You did your best.”

“I left.”

It was that simple. She’d left after one divorce too many and after one particular stepfather’s bad behavior. It didn’t matter that her mother had tried to make amends to Vanessa after Cora had married Richard, her final husband. At least Richard had been kind to Vanessa during the short time she’d lived here with her mother and him. A good man, a very wealthy man, he’d paid off her mother’s house and shown both mother and daughter a world they’d only dreamed about. He’d died five years after marrying her mother.

None of it mattered now. She couldn’t live in her mother’s house.

She heard the preacher’s hearty laughter and stole another glance at him. “What’s with him, Marla? I asked you about his story, and I’d like to know more.”

Marla followed her gaze. “What makes you think he has a story?”

“We all do. You said he wasn’t always this happy.”

Marla shrugged. “I don’t know much other than he joined the army after attending seminary, served as a chaplain and then came home to become a minister. And I don’t ask beyond that. I’m not even sure Alec knows, but they have this buddy system that holds them all together and they don’t press each other about what they went through while serving. I can allow that, given how I held everything inside when Alec and I started seeing each other.”

“And now?”

Marla’s smile was serene and sure. “And now I tell Alec everything and he shares a lot with me. We’re good.”

“But he doesn’t talk about the preacher’s past?”

“Nope. It’s not his to talk about. But then, they were all over there serving our country in one capacity or another. It’s a bond they share.”

A bond that might not be broken, Vanessa decided. “I have to get going,” she said. “I had a great time.”

“I’m glad you came,” Marla said. She hugged Vanessa close.

“And if you ever need to talk—”

“I’ll call you,” Vanessa replied. She didn’t want to get emotional in front of everyone.

“Of course,” Marla said. Then she inclined her chin toward Rory. “But you should call him, too. No matter what you’ve been through, he’s the best person to listen and help you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vanessa replied, remembering how he’d mentioned late-night calls from his congregation members. But she said it with a smile...and a shred of hope.

* * *

A few days later, Rory worked his way around the church yard, clearing away broken limbs and picking up palm fronds. A storm had moved over the area the night before, leaving debris in its wake. He didn’t mind the busywork, though. Not on a nice morning with a cool breeze pushing over the nearby waters of the lake. A few seagulls cawed at him as they came in for a low flight, probably hoping to find some morsels for breakfast.

After dropping some twigs and leaves into a nearby trash can, he stopped to look over the grounds. The little clapboard chapel had survived worse storms than this one. It was over a century old and not much bigger than a shotgun house, but the people of Millbrook Lake loved their church.

He loved it, too. Once he would have gone on by this place, but that Rory was long gone. This Rory loved this place. He stared out over the moss-draped live oaks that edged the old cemetery behind the church and prayed that he’d never have to be anywhere else.

Purple wisteria blossoms rained down each time the wind blew through the trees, their old vines wrapped like necklaces around the billowing oaks. The sound of the palms swaying in the breeze sang a comforting, serene tune. Blue jays and cardinals fussed at each other near the bird feeders one of the church members had built and hung near the pergola where people liked to hold picnics. And the ever-present, pesky squirrels chased each other through the trees with all the precision of drag-racing champions.

What a view.

“You’re not working.”

He whirled to find Mrs. Fitzgerald standing with her flower-encased walker near the sidewalk, her hat today black straw with red cherries around the rim.

“I’m taking a thankful break,” he explained with a grin.

“Can I come and take it with you?” she asked. “I’m thankful and I have corn fritters.”

Rory brushed his hands against his old jeans. “Bring yourself on over to this picnic table,” he said. “How did you know I had a hankering for corn fritters this morning?”

She gave him a mock scowl, her wrinkles folding against each other, her gray hair as straw-like as her hat. “Since when have you not been hankering for something to eat? I declare, I don’t know how you stay so fit.”

“I pick up limbs and trash all the time,” he said with a deadpan expression.

“Yes, you do. And you ride that bicycle and carry that board thing out to the water.” She moseyed over to the table and fluffed her yellow muumuu. “You swim and fish and surf and jog all over the place. When do you rest, Preacher?”

“I’ll rest when I die.”

She shook her head. “Oh, I doubt that. The Lord will put you straight to work when you reach the Pearly Gates.”

They both laughed at that notion. Then she pulled out the still-warm corn fritters that were her specialty. Part hush puppy and part corn bread, the fat mushy balls were filled with real corn nuggets and tasted like nectar to Rory.

“So good,” he said. “I think I’ll be able to finish this mess before lunch, thanks to you.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald chewed on her food and studied the water. “Nice sermon yesterday. I think you impressed that newcomer.”

Miss Fanny, as she liked to be called, took impish pleasure in stirring the pot.

Rory played coy. “We had a newcomer?”

The older woman playfully slapped his arm. “I saw you looking at her. And I’m pretty sure she was looking back.”

“Don’t you have cataracts?”

“Not since that fancy eye doctor up on 98 did some sort of surgery on me. I can see a feather caught in a limb up in that tree yonder.”

He glanced at the tree and squinted. “Feathers are a bit different from watching me and making assumptions.”

“I know what I see,” she replied on a prim note. “It’s springtime. Love is in the air.”

“Well, aren’t you the poet.”

“I used to be, you know.”

“You? A poet?” Miss Fanny was full of surprises.

“Me.” She pointed to the houses lining the lake. “See that Craftsman cottage with the blue shutters?”

He nodded and grabbed another fritter. “The one near your house that’s in need of serious repair?”

She lived in a small Cape Cod style two-storied house across from the church.

“That’s the one. I used to run around with the woman who lived there. We were artists. She dabbled in mixed media and men. I dabbled in poetry and one long and loving marriage.”

“You don’t say?” He’d heard about how much Miss Fanny loved her husband, but she was already a widow when he met her. “So what happened to your friend? That house has been vacant since I’ve been here.”

“That was her home at one time, but after she remarried, it became a vacation home. The last man she married also had a home in Birmingham, Alabama, and they used to travel back and forth. But...she died recently.” Fanny took off her hat and gave him a direct stare. “That woman you’re pretending you didn’t notice in church yesterday, that’s her daughter. She’s come back here to fix up and sell the house.” Putting her hat back on, she added, “Vanessa hated her mother. And I might as well tell you she’s not too fond of preachers either.”


Chapter Three (#ulink_2a9c912b-5d10-54fe-b296-addc77ef76e4)

Rory stood up to stare over at the rambling one-story house with the blue shutters. Well, the shutters used to be blue. Now they were a peeling, weathered blue-gray mess. The whole place wore a facade of neglect even though the neighbors kept the yard mowed and the flower beds pruned and trimmed, as a courtesy and in keeping with the pretty factor that Millbrook Lake prided itself on.

So that was the house Vanessa had mentioned the other day. And Miss Fanny had been a friend to her deceased mother.

“I’ve often thought someone needed to buy that place and fix it up,” he said. “So that’s where Vanessa Donovan used to live?”

And now she was back.

“Her mother lived there for years, but Vanessa only lived there for a couple of years after Cora and Richard got married and moved here. She finished high school and then she left. To my knowledge, this is the first time she’s been back.”

Rory thought about how long the house had sat vacant. “But somebody kept up with the place. I mean, it’s still full of furniture and belongings.”

Miss Fanny sat staring across at the house. “Cora, Vanessa’s mother, went to a nursing home in Alabama near where her last husband had property, right before you came to town. After Vanessa graduated high school, Richard and Cora split their time between Birmingham and here. Then after he died, Cora came back here. But she got sick and that ended, so she moved to a retirement home that had around-the-clock nursing. We all tried to keep the house ready for her to come back, but she never recovered from her first stroke. She had another massive one about a month ago and died. Buried in Alabama beside the one man she truly loved.” Miss Fanny’s shrug was eloquent. “Maybe because he left her a ton of money. She never talked much about the men in her life, but Richard was very special to her.”

Suddenly, Rory understood a lot of things. “So Vanessa came back to...settle things?”

“That’s an understatement,” Miss Fanny replied. “The girl inherited the house and probably some money and other property, too. But I’m thinking she won’t want to live here. She’ll probably sell out and leave again.” Miss Fanny leaned close. “Vanessa loved her mother’s last husband, Richard Tucker. He was like a true father to her after so many other men, but Vanessa and Cora did not see eye-to-eye about anything. Too many bad memories.”

Rory thought about the woman he’d first noticed in church last Sunday. Afraid and unsure and wound as tight as fishing line on a reel. Yeah, he could see a lot of settling things needed to occur.

And he had to ask. “Why does Vanessa dislike preachers, Miss Fanny?”

Miss Fanny got up and adjusted her hat. “I’ll give you one guess.”

Rory closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Which husband was it?”

“Number three,” Miss Fanny said without missing a beat. “Vanessa was around thirteen or fourteen, I think, when her mother married a minister from Atlanta. They moved here since she already had this house. He served a church out on the highway for a couple of years. Neither his assignment nor the marriage lasted. But while he was here, he tried to reform Vanessa but in the worst sort of way.”

Giving Rory a pointed glance, she started pushing her walker toward the street, Rory following while he kept his gaze on the house. “Her mother sided with the preacher, of course.”

The rich fritters Rory had woofed down now felt like lead inside his stomach. He had to wonder what Vanessa had been through, how much she’d suffered. He didn’t ask. Miss Fanny probably knew, but he wouldn’t ask her to tell him.

Vanessa would have to be the one to do that.

If she ever trusted him enough to tell him anything.

“Let me walk you to your door,” he told Miss Fanny. He needed to think this through. He checked the driveway next door to see if Vanessa’s little blue car was parked there.

“She’s not there,” Miss Fanny said, already reading his mind. “I think she went to the lawyer’s office to take care of some business. Probably the reading of the will.” The older woman turned when they reached her front porch steps. “But she’s planning a big estate sale sometime soon. She’ll need help...sorting through all that clutter.” She shrugged. “And since you’re also planning a rummage sale at the church...”

Rory nodded. “I’ll be glad to help.”

Miss Fanny nodded, her work here done.

“Thank you for the corn fritters,” Rory said after he’d made sure she was safe back inside her house. “Go take your afternoon nap.”

Miss Fanny waved him away and shut the door.

Rory hurried back down the steps, but he stopped on the sidewalk and glanced over at the long, sprawling house to the left of Miss Fanny’s place.

He hadn’t said this to Miss Fanny, but Rory had often thought he’d like to buy the old Craftsman cottage and fix it up.

But now, he also had the added challenge of trying to help repair the woman who’d come to town to sell this house. He’d have to pray hard on how to manage that without scaring Vanessa away for good. And he’d have to pray hard for her to forgive the minister who’d obviously damaged her for life.

* * *

“What did you say?”

Vanessa stared at the studious gray-haired lawyer sitting across from her in the elegant conference room situated in an old Georgian-style building across town.

Charles Barton leaned up and studied Vanessa’s face, his bifocal glasses low on his hawk-like nose. “I said you have inherited the bulk of Richard Tucker’s estate. Mind you, after your mother’s care and expenses over the last few years, a fourth of it is gone. But you have the Millbrook Lake cottage and you have the holdings in Alabama, namely a house in Birmingham and several commercial rental properties in that area.”

Vanessa sat staring at the man across from her, unable to comprehend what he was telling her. Finally, she swallowed and spoke. “I knew Richard left my mother comfortable, and I was grateful that she had constant, around-the-clock care at the nursing facility, but I had no idea about something such as this happening.”

When Mr. Barton had stated the exact amount of the inheritance, Vanessa had almost fallen out of her chair. Growing up, she’d often dreamed of that kind of money. Now, she was content with her shop in New Orleans and the online boutique full of eclectic clothes and artisan wares from hundreds of vendors. She wasn’t rich by any means, but she made a good living, selling quirky items to quirky people. Vanessa’s Vintage had taken off in the last year or so. The boutique in New Orleans had become popular with both locals and tourists, and the online store kept up a steady business.

“You are now a wealthy young woman,” the lawyer stated. “Of course, we’ll deal with probate and a few other minor details, but all in all, since Richard had no other close relatives, this should be an easy transition.”

“I’d planned to clean up the cottage and sell it,” Vanessa admitted, still numb. “I thought that was the only thing I needed to worry about.”

“You can decide what to sell off and what to keep once this sets in,” Mr. Barton said. “After a death, I always tell my clients who are left to take over estates not to make any rash decisions. Give it some time. You’re still working through a lot of emotions.”

The older man’s soft-spoken advice calmed Vanessa. “You’re right. I have a lot to do back at the cottage. Getting the place cleaned up and renovated to sell will give me time to decide where I go from here.”

“Do you think you’ll want to keep the mansion in Birmingham?” he asked.

Vanessa thought about the stately Tudor-style house sitting up on a remote bluff. “It’s a beautiful house, but I never actually lived there. I visited a few times, but I can’t see me living in that big, old house.”

Mr. Barton’s assistant began gathering files and folders. He stood, too, and waited for Vanessa to do the same. “Take your time. The money and holdings won’t be going anywhere and there are trustworthy people in place to take care of things.”

Vanessa thanked the lawyer and left, thinking she wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while either. She now had a lot more to take care of than she’d ever imagined.

But for now, she’d focus on the cottage.

She drove around the lake and circled back toward Lake Street, where all the quaint Victorian houses sat next to the few Cape Cod homes and the other one-story Craftsman cottages that were scattered throughout. The view across the water was breathtaking and beautiful.

Until she spotted her house.

The cottage looked sad and lonely, neglected.

That mirrored how she’d felt most of her life. This house held a strong pull over her, one that she needed to resist and one she’d managed to avoid up until now.

Ironic that now she had the security and wealth she’d always craved but she didn’t have anyone to share it with.

Her mother had finally found her fairy tale with Richard Tucker, but it hadn’t lasted. He’d died a year after Vanessa left to go to college.

Vanessa had never wanted a fairy tale. She’d only wanted a family. They’d had that with Richard. He’d been kind and gracious and so patient with her mother’s temperamental mood swings and crazy impulsive nature. He’d also taken time with Vanessa, showing her proper decorum and giving her instructions on manners and how to win over even her worst critics. But he’d done it all in a caring, loving way that made Vanessa feel treasured and special.

Not ashamed and embarrassed.

Still in shock from the lawyer’s news, she drove on around the lake and pulled up into the driveway of her house. When she got out of the car, she glanced toward the church and wondered what Rory was doing. Marla had told Vanessa that he lived in a small garage apartment behind the church. Maybe he would be a good person to talk to in confidence about her situation.

But then again, maybe not. She was leery of showing him any signs of weakness even if he didn’t seem the type to take advantage of her.

She wouldn’t be pulled into something she’d regret. She couldn’t be fooled into getting too close to organized religion again. She believed in God, but she was afraid of putting too much trust in people. The pain of her last encounter with a man of God still gave her nightmares.

She couldn’t go through that again.

No matter how much she needed a friend.

* * *

Rory went on with his day. It was nearly sundown now, so he finished up the yard work behind the church, careful to stay out of sight of the house across the street. But it hadn’t been easy to stay away after the heavy hints Miss Fanny had dropped regarding Vanessa’s past.

Usually when a visitor came to church, some of the welcome committee members would take over a basket full of books, cookies, gift certificates to local establishments and ground coffee from Marla’s place with a cute Millbrook Lake Church mug sporting a pelican sitting on a pew with the caption Don’t fly by. Come on in.

Sometimes, he’d tag along on these welcome visits.

Not this time.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to reach out to Vanessa. But he’d counseled enough members of the military to know that when someone didn’t want to listen, it was hard to talk to them. Rory had his ways of helping people to find their faith, and those ways didn’t involve being pushy and too in-your-face. He’d have to bide his time with Vanessa Donovan. He’d seen people hurt by those who used their own agenda in the name of the Lord.

It was never pretty.

So now, he raked and prayed and raked some more and tried to think about what he could have for dinner. Maybe he’d go to the Back Bay Pizza House and order a takeout meatball sub. Or maybe he’d swing by the Courthouse Café and get a big hamburger and fries before they shut down for the day. Or he could pull out his bike and ride around the lake and stop at the Fish Barrel, the new alfresco dining truck that offered up some really good grouper sandwiches, shrimp baskets and other local fare.

He was leaning toward the bike ride and the grouper sandwich when he heard a low, feminine groan echoing out over the street. Then he heard a thump and a crash, followed by another groan and the word “Ouch.”

Dropping his rake, Rory peeped around the corner of the storage shed behind the church and saw Vanessa standing in the front yard by an old wheelbarrow full of trash. He watched as she tried to move the wheelbarrow, but one of the wheels had obviously gone flat. The weight of the trash wasn’t helping matters.

That old thing wasn’t going to go anywhere except—

Onto its side.

It toppled over with a shudder of regret, causing another loud crash to reverberate up and down the street. Old glassware, plates, cups and other knickknacks spilled all over the driveway and sidewalk. And another groan of frustration followed.

Okay, now he had to walk over there because he had to be gallant and helpful, didn’t he?

“Need some help?” he called, to show he was only trying to be a gentleman.

She glanced around, surprise brightening her shimmering eyes. Surprise, followed by what might be dread. “I’m beyond help.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he told her, his hands on his hips. “But...this wheelbarrow is beyond anything. I hope these dishes weren’t important.”

She stared at the shattered mess lying at her feet. “No, not really.” But she picked up what looked like a children’s cup that had colorful princess characters on it. “Just stuff my mom had shoved into the garage out back. She was a bit of a hoarder.”

Rory heard the pain behind that comment. And saw that pain reflected in Vanessa’s eyes while she moved her fingers over the faded little plastic cup. “Was that yours?” he asked as an opening.

She nodded. “Once, long ago.”

“Where were you taking these things?”

“Out to the curb.” She tossed the cup back onto the pile. “I thought someone might come by and take them.”

He gave her time to get past what she had to be thinking. It must be hard to let go of so many memories. “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

She waved him away. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I have nothing else to do,” he said. “I’ve been doing yard work, and I was about to quit for the day.”

She glanced at the church and then back at him, the struggle in her mind evident in her brooding expression.

“I guess I could use some help,” she said. “I have to clean this place up, and that shed is just the beginning. I want to put a lot of the items from the estate sale out there, on display.”

“Are you hiring an estate-sale manager?”

Her dark eyebrows shot up. “I hadn’t planned on that since this is what I do for a living.” She stopped and stared at the little cup.

“You work as an estate-sale manager?”

“No, but I run a vintage shop in New Orleans and an online shopping site. Vanessa’s Vintage.”

“Then you do know what you’re doing. We’re planning a rummage sale at the church in a few weeks, and one of our members used to be an estate-sale manager. She offered her services free to us. But we could coordinate things with your sale. Maybe hold them on the same day since we’re neighbors.” He stopped, waited a couple of beats. When she didn’t scowl at him, he added, “That is, if you’re okay with that idea.”

She glanced at the church, and then she looked down at the old wheelbarrow. “I don’t know. I hope I’ll be gone in a few weeks.”

“Forget I suggested it,” Rory said. “You have too much on your mind to add a church rummage sale to the mix.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, pushing at her shoulder-length wavy bob. “I don’t know what I’m doing, really. I mean, I know vintage and collectibles, but I’ve never done this before. But I always managed to figure things out on my own.”

He picked up the princess cup. “Well, now you’re not on your own. You have help. Starting with me.”

She stared over at him, her gaze moving from his face to the pile of broken dishes. “And what’s in it for you, Preacher?”


Chapter Four (#ulink_ff8169f7-ccd4-5572-8ed6-b7fc8fd65389)

“What do you mean?”

Rory tried the tactic he used whenever someone asked him a disconcerting question. And prayed it would work on Vanessa.

She gave him a surprised glance, her brow furrowing. “It’s a simple question. You’re offering to help me. You must have a reason.”

“Wow. Does there have to be a reason?” Not sure how to handle this kind of skepticism, he leaned his head down and gave her a smile. “Part of my job is to help others. Part of my nature is to be sincere about it.”

She actually blushed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve had a trying day and I have trust issues.”

He widened the smile. “You think?”

She shook her head and shot him a wry grin. “I guess I should loosen up, right?”

“No. Don’t do anything on my account. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

She laughed at that. “You look too young and carefree to be a preacher.”

He thought of the man who’d obviously hurt her. “Ministers come in all shapes and sizes. And personalities.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.”

He stuffed the cup inside one of the deep pockets of his baggy work shorts and started picking up the broken dishes in an effort to distract her. “Hey, if you find me a broom and a dustpan, I can get this done a lot quicker. And then I’ll be happy to buy you a cup of coffee or a cold drink.”

“So you can work me over?”

That skeptical imp again, hiding serious pain. “Work you over?”

She started walking backward toward the big shed beyond the open gate to the backyard. “You know, telling me that God loves me and that He can make things better for me?”

“Of course,” Rory said, stooping to pick up the bigger pieces of shattered porcelain. “That’s part of my job, too.”

She turned and hurried. “At least you’re not trying to slip it under the radar.”

“Nope. I’m not that kind of guy,” he called after her. When she kept walking, he called louder. “What you see is what you get with me. It’s pretty much the same with God, too.”

He glanced up to find an older couple across the street with their dog watching him with a curious regard.

“Oh, hi,” Rory called. “Nice day, don’t you think?”

They nodded, waved and hurried away. The little dog, however, woofed a quick reply.

No wonder they’d moved on. He seemed to be talking to himself.

Worried that Vanessa had run off in the other direction, he stood and checked the open gate. Maybe she’d gone inside the house to find the broom and dustpan.

Rory cleaned up a bit more and then decided to check on Vanessa. He strolled through the open wrought iron gate and searched the big backyard. Lots of vintage patio furniture and nice palm trees and old oaks, but no Vanessa.

Turning toward the big shed she’d talked about, Rory went to the open French doors. “Hey, Vanessa, you in here?”

He found her standing at a table, her hand on an open book. A photo album from what he could tell.

When he moved toward her, she whirled, her gaze locking with his. “I’m sorry. I...I can’t find the dustpan.”

Rory walked over to where she stood. “Do you want me to leave?”

She nodded and then she shook her head no. “I...I don’t want you to leave but...I can’t... I’m not ready for this.”

“Not ready for me and my poor attempts to comfort you? Or not ready to clean out this house?”

“Not ready for...accepting that my mother is gone,” she said. Then she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I’ll clean up the mess out front later. You...you don’t have to hang around.”

Rory wasn’t going to leave her like this. “Nonsense. You go in the house and have a good cry or make yourself a cup of tea or eat ice cream. I see the broom over there, and I can use the lid off this old box as a dustpan. I’ll clean up the broken things out front.”

She gave him a confused stare, her eyes misty with a raw-edged pain. “You don’t have to clean up my mess.”

Rory wondered how many times she’d said that to other people. “I don’t mind.”

She nodded, grabbed the photo album and pushed past him for the door. But she turned once she was outside. “Thank you, Rory.”

He nodded and smiled at her. “Hey, listen. Grief is a sneaky thing. One minute you’re doing fine and the next, you want to punch something. Or...break dishes.”

She smiled through her tears. “I guess I’ve done that already today.”

She turned and ran toward the house, her flip-flops hitting against the steps up to the back porch. He watched her until he heard the door slam.

Rory tore off the box top and took it and the broom back up to the sidewalk and began to clear away the debris. But in his heart, he wanted to go inside that house and help clear up the debris of Vanessa’s broken heart. Because he didn’t have enough prayers to give her the kind of comfort she craved and needed.

And yet, he knew the comfort of God’s love.

So he prayed anyway, until he had the yard clean again.

He’d have to keep working on the woman sitting inside, crying over an old photo album. And he’d have to do it in a gentle way that would help her to heal.

* * *

Vanessa wished she hadn’t fallen apart in front of the preacher. Now he’d really want to talk to her. She only wanted to sit here and stare into space. But she had so much to take care of before she could go back to New Orleans.

Her fingers touched on an old photograph of her mother with Vanessa on a beach blanket, forcing her to remember the good times. They’d been few and far between, but she had brief flashes of laughter and sunshine and a warm feeling.

A feeling of being loved. Had she forgotten the good and focused too much on the bad? The pictures in this album only showed smiling faces and what looked like good times.

Why were there never any pictures of the bad times? Never any proof of how she remembered things? No, those things had been hidden away, swept underneath the heavy carpet in a facade that was hard to pull away.

A soft knock at the back door brought her head up. Vanessa wiped at her eyes and shut the old photo album. Then she rushed to the door and opened it to find Rory standing there with two ice cream cones.

“The truck came by,” he said, smiling. “I like chocolate and I got you caramel-vanilla. But if you don’t want it—”

She grabbed the waffle cone and took a small nip. “Oh.”

“I take that as a yes.” He ate some of his and glanced around. “Nice house.”

“Come in,” she said, her mind still on the caramel-vanilla.

He stepped inside, and Vanessa realized no one had been invited inside this house in a long time. Shame and embarrassment hit at her with the same freezing intensity as the ice cream sliding down her throat. The built-in cabinets on each side of the enormous fireplace were true to the Craftsman style of the house. But the shelves were practically groaning with old books and side-by-side knickknacks. Not to mention stacks of newspapers and scraps of all kinds of fabric remnants lying here and there in front of the shelves.

“It’s a mess,” she said, lifting her free hand in the air. “One room at a time. I keep telling myself that’s how I’ll get it done.”

Rory glanced around, his gaze settling on the folded blanket and bed pillow she’d left on the couch. She didn’t want to explain that she’d slept in here last night.

But Rory didn’t mention what had to be obvious. Instead, he said, “So...are you going to sell off everything in here?”

“Not everything all at once,” she said. “I have my online vintage store, so I’ll place some of the items there.” She ate more ice cream, the cold sweetness making her feel better. “And if you’re serious about me having the estate sale when you have the church rummage sale, then I’ll probably get rid of a lot of the bigger pieces there, since shipping them is kind of costly.”

“Of course I’m serious. If you don’t mind staying a week or so longer than you planned. We hope to hold it sometime in May, but I’ll pin the committee people down on an exact date.”

“That would help,” she replied. “A deadline will force me to stop procrastinating and get this over with.”

And what could a few more weeks hurt? She could handle this. She had to get this house on the market, and she couldn’t do that until she had it cleaned up and spruced up.

“Then it’s settled. We can go over the details in the next week or so,” he said. “The church members will appreciate having the draw of an estate sale next door.” He walked around, studying the house. “This place has good bones, you know.”

And a few good memories. She needed to focus on those, instead of the bad ones she’d experienced here as a teenager.

“It is a classic house,” she admitted. “It needs someone to love it enough to save it.”

“I think you’re right,” Rory said, his warm, sunny gaze moving over her face.

Vanessa tried to ignore how his nearness made her feel kind of gooey inside, so she forced herself to see it from someone else’s perspective. Her mother had been an artist, dabbling in collages and mixed media. Cora Donovan Tucker never threw anything away. So every nook and cranny, every shelf and table, held what her mother had considered treasures. A feather here, an old button there. Tarnished jewelry with missing rhinestones, old purses with worn handles, books of every shape and size, yellowed with age. Clothes, dishes, trinkets. Cora had collected husbands in much the same way. Tarnished, washed up, broken people. Losers, except for Richard. He’d been a true Godsend.

Her mother had always been a work in progress. But even ravished by two strokes and unable to speak, Cora had died with a peaceful look on her face. Thankful that she’d made it to the nursing home in time to be with her mother at the end, Vanessa wondered what she’d left unsaid.

Rory picked up an object here and studied a piece of art there. “Interesting collection.”

“A lot of stuff, huh?” she said, wondering what Rory really thought. Wondering why she’d let him in. Really let him in.

“Yes.” He munched on his waffle cone. “But that’s not your fault. And you don’t have to go through it alone.”

“Do you mean clearing away this clutter or grieving?”

He gave her that blue-eyed stare that left her feeling light and heavy at the same time. “Yes.”

“I don’t need a lot of help,” she replied, panicking. The cold ice cream burned at her stomach. She imagined him being here every day, watching her, checking on her, asking her pointed, preacher-type questions. “I can handle this, Preacher.”

He didn’t speak. He kept munching on his cone. Finally, he finished chewing and nodded. “I don’t doubt that, but why should you have to do this alone?”

“Why are you so determined to make sure I get help?”

He seemed to accept that she was turning ugly again, and Vanessa felt ashamed at herself. “I’m sorry. I guess I need some more time to process this.”

“Okay.” He finished his ice cream and went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “And I should leave you alone to do this in your own way.”

If he noticed the dishes everywhere or the half-eaten sandwich she’d left on the counter, he didn’t blink. Instead, he dried his hands on a butterfly-embossed dish towel and walked over to where she stood holding a melting ice cream cone.

“Appetite gone?” he asked, taking the cone from her.

“Yes.”

He took her ice cream and went back to the sink and dropped the dripping cone inside and washed his hands again. Then he came back to stand near her. “You do what you need to do. We’re all here, though. Remember that. Miss Fanny next door—she knew your mom. She’s willing to help, and she’s willing to listen.”

“I don’t need anyone to listen to me,” Vanessa retorted, needing him to leave. Needing to be away from his soft, sweet gaze. “I... I’ll figure this out.”

“I believe you will.”

“But you’d like it better if I opened up and told you all my troubles and my fears?”

He started backing toward the door. “No, I wouldn’t like that better. I wouldn’t like that at all. But what I would like is for you to stop seeing me as the enemy and let me be your friend.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, tears burning at her eyes. “I don’t think you’re the enemy, but I can’t be your friend, Rory.”

He held a hand on the doorknob. “Or you can’t let me be your friend? Because I’m what you consider a pushy minister?”

“That’s part of it. That especially, and you being so nice and not being a pushy minister in the way that I know, is really messing with my head.”

“I wish you’d reconsider things,” he said, “but I understand. I’ll see you soon, I guess. You know where to find me if you need me.” He opened the door, but turned back. “But you need to understand, I didn’t come over here today to badger you. I came because I saw someone in need. That’s my nature as a human being, not only as a minister. Sometimes, people tend to overlook that I’m as human as they are.”

And then he was gone, just like that.

For a split second, Vanessa wanted to run after him and tell him all of her troubles. But she had to be strong. She had to fight that notion with all her being. She’d told a minister her innermost secrets before, and that man had used her fears and her insecurities against her. Never again.

She’d been taking care of herself for a long time now. Why should that change? Why should she believe a sweet-talking preacher who brought her ice cream and made her feel safe?

She rushed to the sink and turned on the hot water and watched as the caramel-vanilla ice cream melted into nothing. Her confusing thoughts about Rory had to melt into nothing, too. Because growing close to him would be a bad idea all the way around.

Why should she believe him? Why did she want to believe him?

Because Rory was different. She could tell that. He’d never been through the type of horrible, mortifying things she’d endured. He was happy and settled and well-rounded and content.

He didn’t know the kind of pain she knew.

Did he?


Chapter Five (#ulink_39f16b9b-7b2b-53d8-974f-a9c9cd90965a)

Rory sat behind his desk, a spot he tried not to occupy very often. He much preferred being up and about, talking to people one-on-one. Paperwork always made him antsy and tired, but today was Monday.

Paperwork day.

He signed a few more checks and went over some notes for the committee meeting he had to attend later in the week. Then he checked his watch. Blain and Rikki were coming in today to go over the last-minute details of their upcoming wedding.

Thankful that they’d managed to get past her family’s alleged criminal activities and that Blain had saved her from some nasty people, Rory was glad that Blain, a detective, had fallen for Rikki, the daughter of a reputed Mafia boss. Rikki had made peace with her family since she’d found out her powerful father had truly mended his ways long ago, and Blain had made peace with his father, a retired sheriff who’d helped him crack the case.

Rory’s heart warmed at the harmony all around him. Another win for the good guys.

Now he was in charge of yet another wedding. He’d married off Alec Caldwell and Marla Hamilton right before Christmas of last year. They were thriving.

He wanted that for Blain and Rikki, too.

He might even want that again for himself one day. But he tried not to think about the past or his own heartache too much. Rory didn’t talk about that time in his life. He’d been so happy, so ready to start his career as a minister. But then, his life had changed in one quick heartbeat.

People would be surprised to know he’d had to crawl out of his own dark place.

He stopped reading over the budget report and glanced out the office window, across the street to the Craftsman cottage. And wondered for the hundredth time how Vanessa was doing. She hadn’t come back to church yet. But it had been only a week. He’d hoped she’d come yesterday, but he hadn’t seen her in the congregation. He hadn’t talked to her since the day he’d helped her with the pile of broken dishes. But he kept that little kiddie cup she’d almost tossed right here in his desk drawer so he could return it to her one day.

When she was ready.

He had a good vantage point to keep an eye on her. He’d seen her coming and going, taking boxes to the trash, loading her tiny car with bags of stuff. She was busy. She was avoiding him. Maybe she was avoiding the whole world.

He’d also seen her staring off into space, sometimes up at the house, sometimes out toward the lake. And a couple of times, over toward the church.

He prayed she’d walk over and see him one day soon.

In God’s own time.

Some people believed you had to rush right in and grab people by the lapels to convince them that God loved them. Rory preferred to let people come to that notion on their own.

So he prayed them into taking the next step. And he’d been doing a lot of praying for Vanessa lately. She was going through a deep pain, no doubt. No one here really knew he’d been through that kind of pain. Not even his best friends.

Rory wanted to keep it that way. He couldn’t let people see beyond his good-natured, friendly attitude. He’d hidden that side of himself away for so long, it didn’t match anymore.

He’d scare people and confuse them if he told them about the man he used to be. Not that he’d ever been scary. But he didn’t want to go back to that dark spot in his soul. Ever. He’d come a long way to get to this place, and he liked his work and his life. No way did he want to go back.

And yet, when he saw his friends finding true love, he wanted to go back. He wanted to fall in love again. But at times, the bitterness reared its ugly head, and he felt envy and anger pushing at his hard-fought-for peace.

So he understood what Vanessa was fighting.

A knock at his partially open office door brought Rory out of his musings. His secretary, Barbara Rowan, peeped inside. “Hey, you awake in here?”

Rory grinned. “Barely. It’s too pretty outside to be in here pushing a pencil.”

Barbara, petite, with a brown bob and a blunt attitude, put her hands on her hips and gave him a mock stare, her flamingo lapel pin blinking at him in shades of pink bling. “Well, I feel so bad for you, stuck in this stuffy old office. But you have company. Blain and Rikki are here.”

“Oh, right.” Rory glanced at the clock again. “Send them in. This will make my day better.”

Barbara nodded and opened the door wide. “Here they are.”

Rory grinned at seeing Blain and Rikki holding hands, smiles on their faces. “Hello, you two.”

Blain shook his hand and Rikki hugged him. “We’re here for the premarital counseling you suggested,” Rikki said.

“Did I suggest that?” He chuckled and motioned to the floral chairs across from his desk. “So a few more weeks, huh?”

Blain nodded, his dark blue eyes moving over his bride. “Yes. Wedding here in the church and reception out at the Alvanetti estate.”

“Got it marked in red,” Rory said. “Any questions?”

Rikki gave Blain a sweet smile. “How do we get past everything we went through? I mean, I’ve forgiven my family but...how do Blain and I keep my family issues out of our marriage?”

Blain squeezed her hand and glanced at Rory. “We want to make this work. We love each other but sometimes the world can get in the way.”

Rory loved his friend Blain and he liked Rikki, too. So he leveled with them. “It’s not easy. But loving each other is the first line of defense. Loving the Lord helps. Your faith is important, and that shows with you two. Be open and honest with each other, of course. Seek help when you need to. I’m always here for either of you, and I won’t repeat anything said in this room. But you need to talk to your families, too. And other friends you can trust.”

He glanced out the window and saw Vanessa getting into her car. She was wearing a colorful patterned sundress and tall, strappy sandals. When he glanced back at Blain and Rikki, Blain was giving him a one-eyebrow-lifted knowing stare.

Rory tried to cover. “And...uh...you should be honest with your families, too. Don’t hold grudges. Talk things out. Remember the good times and try to get past the bad.”

He groaned inwardly. He was talking in clichés today.

After a few more questions, he went over the wedding arrangements with them and gave them some pamphlets and books to read. They both asked more questions, and Rory said a prayer with them. “I think you two will be fine.”

Blain glanced at Rikki. “Can you visit with Barbara for a minute? I need to ask Rory something.”

“Sure.” She gave him a brown-eyed smile, her long dark hair flowing around her shoulders. “Already keeping secrets.”

“It’s more guy stuff,” Blain said. “Regarding my bachelor party.”

“Oh, right.” She grinned at Rory and went into the reception area.

“What’s up?” Rory asked, his mind still on Vanessa. “You know we’re having a low-key party out at the camp house, right?”

Blain laughed. “Yes, I know all about that, surprises not withstanding.”

“Okay, did you need something else?”

“Are you scouting the house across the street for a reason?”

Blain was on to him. “I might be since it’s going up for sale soon. I’ve always liked that house, and it’s near the church.” He shrugged. “I’m outgrowing my tiny one-bedroom apartment.”

“Right.” Blain rolled his eyes. “I was referring to the woman living there, not the house. Preacher, do you have your eye on Vanessa Donovan?”

Rory didn’t want to squirm underneath the scrutiny of Blain’s eagle-eyed gaze. “She’s in a bad way, so I’ve tried to befriend her. Offer her my help and advice.”

Blain nodded. “It’s amazing. All these years, I’ve never seen you go beyond being friends with a woman. You don’t even date. But since Vanessa rolled into town, you’ve seemed distracted.”

“How do you know that?” Rory asked, affronted. “You haven’t been around me that much when women are nearby.”

“Relax,” Blain said. “I saw you on Easter Sunday, and Alec told me you and Vanessa seemed chummy at Easter dinner at his house.”

Rory laughed. “What you and Alec call chummy, I call being friendly.”

“Oh, okay. We’ll go with that then,” Blain said. “It’s nice to know you’re human after all. You could do worse. She’s cute, and Rikki says she’s nice, too.”

Rory rubbed a hand over his choppy hair. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Blain shook his head. “Right. I’ll shut up now. Are we still on for pizza Thursday night?”

“As always.”

“And we are gathering at the camp house for my bachelor party in two weeks?”

“You better believe it. And I do have surprises lined up for you.”

“What? Choir rehearsal and memorizing Bible verses?”

“After we play a serious game of tic-tac-toe, yes.”

“Wild night. Love it.” Blain shook Rory’s hand and headed to the door. “Hey, Alec and I, we’ve been there. We should be the ones giving you advice these days.”

Rory finally caved. “I might take you up on that offer. I like her. A lot. But...she’s not returning that feeling.”

“Give her some time,” Blain suggested. “Like you said, she’s been through a lot. One thing I’ve learned, dealing with Rikki and her family, strong women don’t like to be messed with until they’re ready to be messed with.”

“Got it,” Rory said, grinning at Blain’s down-to-earth assessment. “I’m learning that, my friend.”

After Blain and Rikki left, he turned to Barbara. “Please tell me it’s quitting time.”

“It’s quitting time,” she said. “You know you officially have Mondays off, so why are you still here?”

He shrugged. “Habit.” Then he went back in his office and tidied up. “I think I’ve signed all the proper checks and documents so yes, I’m taking off early. I might take a run around the lake or maybe go kayaking.”

“Great idea,” his secretary called back. “Me, I’m going to go home and piddle in my garden.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

Barbara left by the side door.

Rory locked up and was about to head to the garage underneath his apartment to get his kayak out when he saw Vanessa’s car moving up Lake Drive.

She was home.

* * *

He was standing by his garage apartment.

Glad she was wearing her shades, Vanessa noticed Rory out of the corner of her eye. She’d tried not to think about him, but he seemed to be front and center in her mind. Reminding herself that he did live and work right across the street, she chalked up this preoccupation with the cute preacher to being in such close proximity to him. Hard not to think about him when the pretty white church stood as a reminder every time she looked out the window.

So she pulled her car into the drive and geared up for a warm, soothing bath and a bowl of ice cream. Yes, she’d been craving ice cream all week. His fault, too. But she’d had a long day of talking to lawyers and discussing things on the phone with Realtors both here in Millbrook and at the various properties she now owned in Alabama.

Overwhelmed, she glanced back toward the church.

And saw Rory heading straight for her.

She almost ran into the house, but her heart stopped her. She couldn’t be rude to the man. He’d been nothing but kind to her. The least she could do was say hello to him.

Hello. And then on to ice cream.

“Hi,” he called when she turned and waved. Then he walked over. Did he seem relieved?

“Hello,” she replied, smiling. “How are you?”

“Good. I’m calling it a day,” he said. His dark blond hair was in a perpetual state of shagginess, but it suited him. “I’m going kayaking. Wanna come?”

Kayaking? The thought of putting on shorts and a sleeveless top made her cringe. The sun had not touched her legs all winter. Did she have the nerve to actually relax and go for a ride on the lake? With him?

He must have sensed her hesitation. “I’m sorry. You’re probably really busy.”

She glanced at the glistening water and then gazed at him. “I’ve been going nonstop all day dealing with my inheritance, but that water looks so tempting.”

And so did he. Not what you’d expect. Better than ice cream even.

“I have an extra kayak. It’s actually Alec’s, but he won’t mind if you want to use it. He stores it over here so some of the kids I mentor can borrow it.”

“You mentor kids?”

He nodded and looked sheepish. “Yes. Mostly teens. We have a get-together here at the church once a week. Anyone is invited, but some of the kids are in foster homes.”

“Wow.” She only wished she’d had a safe place to go when she was a teen. “That’s a good idea.”

He smiled at her comment. “They need someone to talk to at times. They come with their guardians or foster parents, but we team each kid up with a mentor. Supervised, of course.”

“That’s good. That they’re able to talk to someone and that it’s supervised.”

He went quiet for a couple of moments. “Listen, if you don’t want to go—”

He was talking about kayaking, but he must have seen the darkness in her eyes. Pushing aside the flare of distant painful memories, she gave him a weak smile.

“Let me get inside and change,” she said, making a snap decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. “I haven’t been kayaking in a while so I might slow you down, but yes, I’d like to take a ride around the lake.”

“Good. I’ll go get the kayaks ready. You can meet me at the boat landing.”

“Okay.” Vanessa hurried into the house, her mind buzzing with good and bad thoughts. She didn’t want to group Rory in the same category as her mother’s ex-husband, but how could she not think about it? She’d been a troubled teen, and her so-called stepfather had pretended to be her mentor.

And yet he’d betrayed her in the worst way.

Would Rory do that?

No. Because for one thing, Vanessa was a grown woman now. Stronger and more assertive. No longer afraid to stand up to people.

Rory Sanderson wasn’t anything like Gregory Pardue. Not at all. Thank goodness.

And yet when she came back outside, Vanessa felt a shiver moving down her spine. Was she making a mistake, getting to know the preacher?

She looked up at the sky and for the first time in years, she asked God to protect her heart. Because she didn’t want to be wrong about Rory.


Chapter Six (#ulink_97d3aedd-8877-598e-b58a-fa7f507f7548)

She’d found a pair of old cutoff jeans and rolled them up over her knees. A sleeveless cotton blouse covered the shorts. Swallowing her trepidations, Vanessa walked the short distance to the lake’s boat landing near the marina and boardwalk. The sun felt good on her skin, and the sound of seagulls flying overhead reminded her that summer was coming.

She saw Rory waiting with the two kayaks. He waved and she waved back. He had on shorts and an old T-shirt. He was much darker than her, which showed he got outside more than she did.

Not the pasty-skinned pallor she considered more minister type. But then, Rory shattered all of her notions regarding preachers. He looked as if he belonged on a California beach instead of here, standing by two kayaks and waiting on her.

“You ready for this?” he asked, sincerity in his blue eyes.

“Yes. I’ll probably regret it tomorrow—sore muscles—but I need to get out and get some exercise. Moving boxes and going through closets and cabinets doesn’t count as a fun way to get in shape.”

He gave her a quick once-over. “You know how to kayak, right?”

She thought she remembered. “Yes. Love it.”

He motioned her to where he had the kayaks pulled up in the shallow water by the concrete landing. “We can do this at the dock or I’ll hold yours while you get in.”

“I can get in here,” she said, glancing around to make sure no one would see her if she fell headfirst into the shallow water. “Or at least I’m going to try.”

Rory took her hand while he held the bright blue kayak steady with his foot. “Okay, sit and turn.”

Vanessa tried to ignore the warmth of his fingers holding hers. He had a strong, secure grip. “Like a lady getting into a car,” she said on a nervous laugh.

“Sorta.” He grinned and held on to her while she plopped down into the low, narrow watercraft. “See, you’re in.”

“Yes, now I have to get my legs in, too.” She turned forward, her water shoes intact.

Once she was settled, he handed her the paddle. Vanessa wondered how he’d manage getting inside his red kayak, but he slid in with the ease of someone who was a born athlete. She noticed his muscular arms and broad shoulders. What else would she notice about this man?

Too many things, she decided.

As they glided out onto the lake, Vanessa worked to keep up with Rory, having no doubt that he was purposely going slow to stay with her. But they laughed and talked as they paddled around the big oval body of water. The ducks and geese squawked and fussed as they glided by. People waved from the shore, some of them calling out to Rory.

Spring was in full bloom, showing off in the dappled sunlight. Azaleas lush with pink-and-white flowers clustered underneath the tall pines and old oaks. Crape myrtles along the streets were bursting with tiny blossoms that were beginning to bud in hot pink and deep purple. The old magnolias hung heavy with huge white petals. The green fronds on tall palms danced in the wind, the sound of their frenzy sending out a steady swish, swish. The whole lake smelled like a fragrant, earthy garden.

With the wind in her face and the sun warm on her skin, Vanessa relaxed and remembered the short time she’d spent here in Millbrook Lake so many years ago. Her last couple of years of high school had been spent here. Marla had been one of her friends back then.





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