Doug’s gaze swept around the table. “I’m so pleased to have all of you here to join in the Christmas celebration, praising the Lord for His greatest gift, His Son, our Savior who came down from heaven to bring peace, joy, hope and salvation. Heavenly Father, we thank You for this wonderful day, for the presence of our families, and we thank You for Roseanne’s and Kimmy’s health. We ask You to bless this food, bless those around the table, and bless Nina’s and my promise of love everlasting when we become man and wife. Amen.”
The amen tangled in the surprised sounds coming from everyone at the table. “Nina.” Roseanne’s voice reached her. “I’ve been praying for this. I’m so happy.”
“Thank you, Roseanne, and—”
“You could add me to the list.” Her mother had risen and came to her chair, her arms opened.
Nina rose as Doug had done, and received the hugs, kisses and congratulations from everyone along with the surprise they expressed. She showed her ring, and Kimmy clung to her, gawking at the ring but most of all repeating her new litany. “You’re my auntie Nina. You’re my auntie Nina.”
“I am, Kimmy, and I’m so happy I’ll be your real auntie.” They hugged and laughed as the others, still amazed, settled down again to enjoy the food.
Though she put food on her plate, Nina’s appetite had vanished. Instead, she was filled with gratefulness for her wonderful news, and amazed that Doug had asked her to be his wife on Christmas Eve.
As the meal ended, Doug rose and picked up something from a cabinet sitting in the dining room. He walked around the table to Nina’s seat and drew her up. When she stood beside him, he drew her closer and raised his hand above her head while everyone laughed.
“It’s mistletoe, Nina.” She looked at Roseanne, wearing a grin.
Everyone cheered and applauded as Doug gazed into her eyes. She raised herself to meet his lips, enjoying the blessing of commitment, hope for children of her own, and two families who rejoiced with them. Never in her life had she anticipated a day like this one.
But then with the Lord, all things were possible.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from REKINDLING THE WIDOWER’S HEART by Glynna Kaye.
Nina’s Creamy Corn Casserole
Ingredients
1/2 cup butter, melted
2 eggs, beaten
1 14.5 oz box dry cornbread mix (I prefer Krusteaz Honey Cornbread)
1 15 oz can whole kernel corn
1 15 oz can creamed corn
1 cup sour cream
Instructions
Preheat oven to 350°F and lightly grease a 9 x 9 pan.
In a medium bowl, combine butter, eggs, dry cornbread mix, corn and sour cream.
Pour batter into baking dish.
Bake for 45 minutes or until top is golden brown.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed A Husband for Christmas, book two of the Lilac Circle series, and the blend of unique characters who weave their way through this series. In Angie Bursten’s story, A Mother to Love, you met Nina Jerome. I hope you were touched by the theme of love, a love blessed by the Lord. In their journey Nina and Doug realized their views on love and marriage had been molded by different philosophies, resulting in their fear of marriage. Nina struggled with her secret wounds from being rejected by a man who promised to love her for better or for worse. Doug’s view was influenced by marriages that didn’t encompass the depth that he wanted in a relationship. Instead he provided love and support for everyone but himself. Yet with prayer and awareness of the self-made barricades that warped their lives, they found that Christmas opened doors for a reminder of God’s love, an amazing relationship of forgiveness and trust providing a true look at the greatest love of all. I hope you are anxious to meet the next characters in the third novel of the Lilac Circle series.
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.
You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.
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Rekindling the Widower’s Heart
by Glynna Kaye
Chapter One
“Not everyone is meant to be in your life forever, I guess.”
Taken aback by the unexpected, too-close-to-home observation, Luke Hunter placed a work-booted foot on the bottom step of the empty storefront’s covered concrete porch, doing his best not to frown at the attractive blonde perched on the railing.
“But that’s why,” she concluded with a dazzling smile that made his breath catch, “we need to make the most of every moment, don’t you think? Enjoy life to the full with a thankful heart. That’s what’s bringing me to Hunter Ridge—mountain country Arizona—for the summer.”
Until her red Ford Focus had pulled up in front of the rental property fifteen minutes late, a Beach Boys tune belting out of the stereo and her long, sun-streaked hair tumbling around her shoulders, he’d never before laid eyes on Delaney Marks. Although attempting to listen closely, he didn’t quite grasp the entirety of the convoluted tale of what brought her into his world that afternoon. But, as near as he could piece together, it had something to do with the departure of a boyfriend, an aunt in poor health, and following her heart.
“Then I hope—” he managed something he trusted was akin to a smile “—that this property is what you’re looking for.”
“Oh, it is.” She turned to gaze down the ponderosa pine-lined road that curved through the little town’s business district, then back at him. “I looked at it online before I made this appointment. It’s ideal.”
Why were all these artsy types continuing to flock here anyway? Why not Sedona? Jerome? Someplace where they’d fit in and wouldn’t annoy the locals.
Without a doubt, this young woman fit the stereotype, with denim-look leggings, an embroidered turquoise tunic and dainty leather sandals. Silver hoop earrings glinted when she tilted her head, and a bracelet shimmered around her ankle. Was there a finger on either hand not encircled with a ring?
Yesterday, the second day of June, Grandma Jo—Josephine Davis Hunter—told the extended family that a woman had called about renting a property along Hunter Ridge Road. No doubt another outsider determined to further change the character of their town.
Unfortunately, he’d drawn the short straw and had to deal with her today when he’d much rather be balancing the Hunter Enterprise books or—better yet—solidifying long overdue relocation plans. It was more than time he took his future into his own hands—despite what family members thought. Opportunity had knocked in the form of a potential job offer from two ex-army buddies in Kansas. He had only to wait for the door to swing open. Or give it a push.
“I assume, Ms. Marks,” he said, “that you want to take a look inside?”
“I’d love to.”
Her too-appealing mouth widened as she caught his eye with a startlingly flirtatious glance. An uncomfortable warmth crept up his neck. This wasn’t the first time she’d openly looked at him that way, as if fancying what she saw.
Yeah, right. Like he was buying that.
Who could blame him for suspecting her motives? He was at least a decade older than her own fresh-faced mid-twenties. A military vet. A widower for the past six years. The single father of three. Barely keeping it all together. Even though she couldn’t have known any of that when she breezed into t
own, he held no illusions that he came even close to what some pretty young babe was dreaming of.
But an hourglass figure and eyes sparkling with admiration wouldn’t gain her a hoped-for advantage in any rental contract negotiations. He had a houseful of hungry mouths to feed and every dime counted.
Her gaze still holding his, she hopped off the railing to stand before him, close enough that he could see the sprinkling of freckles across her nose.
“And please, call me Delaney.”
With a brisk nod, he unlocked the door of the two-story natural stone building. Nestled between a pottery shop and Hunter Ridge’s version of a deli, the first floor housed an open space ideal for commercial use, with a studio apartment above. He motioned for her to precede him inside and caught her fresh, citrusy fragrance as she glided by.
Midafternoon sunlight slanted in from the open door and unshuttered windows, filling the high-ceilinged, wooden-floored space with an inviting glow. A faint scent of cinnamon lingered in the air, no doubt the persuasive touch of his aunt Jessi.
Spreading her arms wide as if embracing the interior, Ms. Marks—Delaney—gave a soft cry of delight that echoed through the spacious room. “I knew I’d love it.”
“You understand, don’t you,” he said, feeling obligated to offer caution, “that leasing for three months rather than for an entire year means a higher monthly rental rate?” It was during the summer when Hunter Ridge—and the high elevation mountain country at large—made up for the economically slower months.
She shrugged. “No worries. I’m originally from Canyon Springs, so I totally get it.”
Canyon Springs? That wasn’t much over thirty minutes away, so why—
“I could hardly believe it,” she continued, “when I saw this place on the property rental website. I’d been afraid I’d get stuck in an ugly, generic apartment complex.”
“I don’t think Hunter Ridge has too many of those.”
She laughed and his heart beat faster at the sound of it, as refreshing as a cool drink of water on a hot day.
“No, probably not.” She looked happily around her. “Your town has done an admirable job of retaining its rustic character, its backcountry ambience.”
“We do our best to safeguard our heritage.” Unfortunately, not as well as they should have in recent years.
Delaney strolled across the space, empty except for a massive iron woodstove on the far side of the main room. Then she spun toward him. “I can’t believe this place hasn’t already been snatched up. Is there something you’re not telling me? Like the roof leaks or there’s no indoor plumbing?”
He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “A couple from Flagstaff signed a lease, but unforeseen circumstances dictated that they break their contract a few days ago.”
She closed her eyes momentarily and drew in a slow breath, almost as if communing with an unseen person. God? Then with a contented sigh she took a confident step toward him. “Meet your new tenant.”
Had he heard right? “You haven’t even seen all of it yet.”
She didn’t so much as slant him a sheepish look to indicate she recognized the impulsiveness of her decision. Clearly, she wasn’t a stranger to spur-of-the-moment leaps.
“There’s an apartment, too, right?”
“A studio in the loft.” He motioned upward to a low wall that concealed a portion of the raftered space above. “Full bath. Kitchenette. There’s a balcony overlooking a patio and toward the wooded properties farther up the ridge.”
“I guess I should take a peek, huh?”
“Please do.”
He couldn’t help but notice how gracefully she crossed the room to the rear of the building, her gently waving hair flowing down the back of her petite frame. Just beyond the staircase she paused to look in an open door. “A half bath, too? Perfect.”
“And a kitchen in the back.”
She hadn’t yet mentioned her intentions for the space, but Hunter Ridge would likely be welcoming another handmade candle shop or stained-glass studio for the summer season. Not exactly what the town needed. At least, however, the town council—one member of which he had the privilege of calling Mom—might sleep better at night with another source of income added to the roster.
He watched with more interest than he was willing to admit as Delaney poked her head into the kitchen, then peeped out the back door window before returning to the main room and heading up to the loft, her footsteps sounding lightly on the wooden stairs.
The next thing he knew, she peered down at him from over the low wall, dimples bracketing a wide smile. “Just as I thought. Love at first sight. Where do I sign?”
No haggling? No pointing out that he’d already laid claim to the previous person’s forfeited deposit so he could afford to cut her a sweeter deal? But in this economy, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Come on down, then, and we’ll do business.”
While few Hunter Ridge natives cared for the influx of newcomers, the bottom line could be a hard taskmaster. But the interlopers would pay well to snag a piece of this mountain country paradise. For that very reason, Delaney’s showstopping smile would serve to little advantage. While the engaging look she occasionally cast his way sparked an almost forgotten flicker of masculine satisfaction, he tamped it down. He had neither the time nor the energy for flirtatious females.
Been there, done that.
And, God help him, he was still paying the price.
* * *
Less than an hour later, Luke Hunter rose from behind a wooden desk to drop two keys into Delaney’s outstretched palm.
“Welcome to Hunter Ridge.”
“Thank you.” But despite his hospitable-sounding words, it was clear the sober-eyed Luke Hunter wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of renting the place to her. Not that he was hostile, exactly. Maybe resigned was a more accurate word.
In a town with too many empty storefronts, you’d think he’d have laid on a thick coat of persuasion to prevent her from marching down the street to the next available space. Instead, when they’d retreated to the offices of Hunter Enterprises, across the blacktop road and a few doors down from what was to be her new summer abode, he’d practically tried to talk her out of signing. But parking limitations, minuscule dimensions of the apartment, and precautions regarding the woodstove didn’t faze her in the least.
This summer was to be a chance not only to help the local church youth ministry while remaining conveniently close to her aunt in Canyon Springs, but an opportunity to find out if her artistic talents held any merit. Would her skills eventually rescue her from a lifetime with her nose pressed to a computer monitor?
“I can hardly wait to move in.” She stood, tucking the keys and paperwork into her oversize woven purse, a tingle of anticipation skimming up her spine. But whether that was solely rooted in God leading her to an ideal property for the summer or founded in the somewhat hesitant smile her handsome new landlord had just bestowed, she couldn’t be sure.
Probably a bit of both.
She rewarded his effort with a high-wattage smile of her own, but he frowned ever so slightly and abruptly stepped to a shelving unit to purposefully peruse its contents.
Was he shy? Unsociable? Or a man with more important things on his mind than the eagerness of a new tenant embarking on a summer adventure?
Nevertheless, she again couldn’t help but notice how he held himself with an almost military bearing, the overhead light that illuminated his neatly clipped, sandy brown hair also emphasizing the strong planes of his face. No, he didn’t appear to be a man who’d empathize with her bubbling enthusiasm, nor had she missed the flicker of censure in his eyes when she’d presented her photo ID. He’d clearly been unimpressed by the evidence of her recent California residency.
Find
ing what he was looking for, Luke pulled a navy blue folder from a shelf and handed it to her. “Hunter Ridge Chamber of Commerce” it proclaimed in raised lettering. The possible significance of his last name and that of the community hadn’t been lost on her.
“Although you can find this information online, I keep a few of these on hand.” He motioned to the folder as she flipped through its contents. “Since water, gas and electricity are included, you won’t need to make those arrangements. You mentioned, too, that opening a business isn’t your intent, so those sections won’t pertain to you, either.”
“The space will be my studio.” Loving the sound of that—so artistic and professional—she proudly held out both hands, palms downward, to display her rings. “I make jewelry and hope to sell it through the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative.”
The corners of Luke’s mouth dipped downward, but he made no comment. Instead, he briefly studied the varied ring designs, then gave a brisk nod. “Very nice.”
“Thanks.” She slowly drew back her hands, irritated with herself for hoping to hear something more along the lines of a few oohs and aahs. When had she become so insecure, constantly in need of reassurance regarding her craft?
A telltale muscle tightened in her throat. Since both Aunt Jen and Dwayne Moorley dismissed her artistic efforts as having no significance, that’s when.
She drew in a reviving breath. “I’ve been making jewelry for myself and friends since a high school art class introduced me to working with silver. But it’s time to see what the rest of the world thinks.”
“I wish you the best, then.”
Would it be too much to hope that friends and family members would feel the same? If she turned her back on the education her aunt had sacrificed to provide for a pretty much penniless, parentless niece, there would be few who wouldn’t think her a foolish and most ungrateful young woman. She no longer cared about Dwayne’s opinion, but would Aunt Jen ever forgive her?
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