by Lisa Carter
Afterward, he loaded Grandma into the sedan and headed to the white clapboard church. Nestled in a glade on the edge of town, the steeple brushed a picture-perfect Blue Ridge sky.
He wheeled his grandmother from the gravel parking lot over the tiny footbridge, spanning the small creek. Rushing water burbled over the moss-covered stones. Above the soft murmur of voices were sweet sounds of birdsong. The apple-green leaves of a willow rustled in a light breeze.
Utilizing the handicapped ramp, he rolled his grandmother into the sanctuary and parked her at the end of a pew. “The prodigal grandson returns,” he murmured.
“Your words, dear heart.” She touched his hand. “Never mine.”
A sudden lump in his throat, he hung back as her many friends engulfed her in hugs.
“Miss ErmaJean is a favorite here in Truelove.”
His pulse leaped at the sound of Amber’s voice.
In a figure-flattering yellow sundress, she looked as fresh as springtime. And she smelled delicious. Like lilacs.
“Where are the girls?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“I’ve taken them to children’s church. Trust me.” Her lips twitched. “It’s better for everyone’s contemplation, if they’re age-appropriately occupied.”
“Makes me wish there’d been children’s church when I was a kid.”
Amber batted her lashes. “You made the elders wish it, too. Much to the benefit of subsequent generations.”
“So you’re saying I’m highly influential?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek. “A trendsetter. A legacy builder.”
“Don’t oversell it, Ethan.” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “You are impossible.”
He grinned. “That’s why you love me.”
She blinked, a startled look in her eyes. “Y-you wish.” Brushing past him, she slipped across the aisle into a pew with Callie and a dark blond man Ethan presumed to be her husband, Jake McAbee.
When the prelude music started, he edged around his grandmother’s chair and sat in the pew. Huge, hand-hewn beams soared above his head. Stained glass windows depicted Bible stories. Finding his childhood favorite, he was surprised at the rush of happy memories, of the faith his grandmother had sought to instill within him.
A community of faith. He was glad Amber would be able to give Lucy and Stella this—roots. Something he had never wanted. Until now?
During the opening song, he held the green-bound hymnal for his grandmother. And tried not to stare at Amber’s blond hair brushing against her shoulder blades. At the last minute, a muscular yet lanky guy scooted into the pew beside her.
Reverend Bryant called the congregation to prayer. Ethan was struck by how the man talked to God like He was right there beside him. Like talking to a friend. As natural as breathing.
Another sweet memory rose—of Ethan’s grandparents’ prayers over him as a boy. Without a doubt, it had been his grandmother’s prayers that kept him alive in Afghanistan. And God’s grace.
For the first time in a long while, he bent his head, giving thanks to God for preserving him. For allowing him to return to Truelove. For enabling him to return—home?
Then Reverend Bryant gripped the sides of the pulpit. “Pride, my dear brothers and sisters, is what keeps us from experiencing God’s favor in our lives.”
Funny, he’d just been thinking about God’s grace. God’s favor. Same thing.
He leaned back against the pew. Had a misplaced pride caused him to view Truelove through the lens of his father’s desertion? Had he truly been as outcast as he’d felt?
Bending forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs and laced his hands together. Pride—another name for his determination to keep everyone at arm’s length. Other than Matt and Grandma, allowing no one to get close enough to hurt him again.
His former girlfriend, Kelly, had accused him of being emotionally distant. He was vaguely aware he ought to be more torn up about losing her. But perhaps her rejection had stung his self-confidence more than his heart. As to his inability for intimacy, Kelly might’ve been onto something.
A further startling realization dawned. How long had it been since he called his mother? Sure, she’d remarried and moved away. But feeling replaced by her new husband—and prideful—it was Ethan who’d chosen not to go with her into her new life.
God hates pride, the reverend warned.
What would his life look like if Ethan stopped keeping everyone—including God—at arm’s length? What if he could trust God not to hurt him? What if he opened his life to Him?
At the closing hymn, Ethan rose with the congregation. He resolved to ponder the ramifications of what his pride had cost him. Later, when he could sort through the confusing tangle of emotions he was only now beginning to confront, to understand.
By the time the other half of the congregation had jumped up to love on his grandmother, Amber and Callie had disappeared through the door flanking the pulpit. Probably to get their kids.
Almost the last to leave the church, he steered the car toward the Jackson family orchard. Pink redbuds and white dogwoods dotted the slopes of the tree-studded Blue Ridge. Descending into the valley, he emerged into slightly gentler terrain. Horses grazed in pastures. A couple of miles later, he pulled off the main highway and drove under the crossbars. Bypassing a rustic country store, he continued on the long gravel-covered drive.
Grandma smiled. “It’s so beautiful this time of year at Apple Valley Farm.”
The leafed-out apple trees were at their peak, and a shower of petal pink blossoms carpeted the road. Set on a knoll overlooking the orchard, the tin roof of the two-story white farmhouse gleamed in the afternoon sun.
A bevy of vehicles occupied the yard. One of them, a navy blue pickup, had a for-sale sign stuck in the rear windshield. “Looks like they’ve invited the whole town.” He helped his grandmother transfer to the wheelchair.
“Just a few close friends and neighbors.”
A long table with chairs had been placed under the shade of a flowering cherry tree. The screened door creaked open and slapped shut as Callie scurried out with a large bowl of potato salad.
“Dad and Jake are at the grill cooking the chickens.” She gestured toward the flume of smoke rising from a black-barreled, monster cooker near the barn. “Pour yourself some tea. We’ll eat as soon as Lorena arrives from the hospital.” Depositing the plastic-wrapped bowl on the table, Callie headed for the house.
Ethan fixed his grandmother a glass of sweet tea. “Remind me who Lorena is.”
“Lives next door. Good friend to Callie’s late mother.” Grandma took a sip and sighed. “Now, that hits the spot. What was I saying? Oh, yes, Lorena is also an emergency room nurse. She helped Amber get into the accelerated program.”
He heard the sound of children’s voices first. Then he spotted Lucy, Stella and a slightly younger boy racing between the rows of apple trees.
“Who does the little boy belong to, Grandma?”
“He’s Jonas Stone’s little boy. Jonas was several years ahead of you in high school. You may not have crossed paths. His family owns the dude ranch.”
Ethan shook his head. “I’m not sure—”
“That’s him.” His grandmother pointed.
A tall man in a brown cowboy hat ambled out of the orchard with Amber. The same man who’d sat beside her in church.
Ethan scowled. “Shouldn’t he be with his wife?”
“Hush now,” Grandma hissed. “He’ll hear you. Jonas lost his wife. He and Amber have that in common. He’s a good man.”
Good enough for Amber? Ethan snorted, taking an instant and completely unjustified dislike to Stone.
Seeing them, Amber waved and came over. She kissed his grandmother’s cheek and straightened. “Hey, Ethan.”
He grunted.
Amber tilted her head. “What�
�s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” He stuck his hand out to Stone. “Don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Amber’s eyes flitted from Ethan to Stone. “Ethan Green, meet my friend Jonas Stone.”
Friend, huh? What was with women and cowboys?
He shook Stone’s hand. “It’s old friends who make the best friends.”
Stone winced.
Ethan left off making mincemeat of Stone’s hand to find his grandmother studying him over the rim of her tea glass, amusement dancing in her eyes.
A woman in purple scrubs exited the SUV that had driven into the yard.
Grandma nudged his arm. “I have it on good authority, we’re in for an announcement this afternoon.” She licked her lips. “Another successful match in Truelove, where true love awaits.”
An announcement? What kind of— His gaze swung from Amber to Jonas Stone. Something went cold in his belly.
“Efan! Efan! Efan!” Lucy shrieked.
Running full bore, she captured Ethan around the knees, nearly knocking him off his feet. Stella’s approach was more sedate, less eager. More like a funeral march. Stone moved to intercept his small son from a collision course with a flower bed.
Lucy lifted her arms to him. Ethan glanced at Amber.
She shrugged. “Lucy, you’re too big to be carried around like a baby. But go ahead. Hold her if you want to, Ethan.”
When he did, Lucy draped her arms around his neck and gave him a big hug. “I missed you, Efan.”
His heart puddled a little. “It’s good to know somebody’s glad to see me, Lucy Lou.” He poked her belly with his finger. Writhing, she giggled.
Amber’s brow knitted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
* * *
People said women had mood swings. So what was up with Ethan?
But apparently, he’d already won over one of Amber’s daughters. Another member of the Ethan Green fan club.
Like mother, like daughter?
“Mommy?” Stella tugged at Amber’s skirt. “Maisie said after lunch we could ride the tractor with her dad.”
Absentmindedly, she brushed her hand over Stella’s head. “We’ll see.”
But things got too hectic for further reflection. She helped Callie, Lorena and Jonas’s mom, Deirdre Fielding, carry the rest of the potluck items to the table. Then Amber’s children had to be corralled and semicontained in adjacent chairs.
ErmaJean introduced Ethan to Jake and three-year-old Maisie. As usual, adoring Maisie was stuck to her father tighter than a deer tick. Coming around to fix Lucy’s and Stella’s plates, Amber patted the sweet little girl’s blond bouncing curls.
Amber wondered if Ethan felt like an outsider. He had the same look on his face like years ago when he’d go quiet at the noisy, happy Fleming dinner table. A wistful hunger for something that had nothing to do with food.
Yesterday at the diner when he’d spoken of his deep-seated feelings of alienation, it was the first time he’d ever shared anything so personal with her. Mr. Too Cool for School had always laughed off his hurts. Hidden his pain. A tough guy who didn’t usually reveal any vulnerability.
And today he was looking everywhere but at her. Maybe why he was acting so oddly. Embarrassed that he’d shown weakness. Such a guy attitude. Although not necessarily a condition confined to men. She struggled with her own pride issues.
But she felt honored that he’d trusted her. Giving her an insight into why he believed there was nothing for him in Truelove.
Everyone had wounds. She agonized over how badly she and Tony might’ve already damaged her girls. Daily she prayed God wouldn’t allow her issues to stand between what He wanted to do in her children’s lives.
“May I have your attention, please?” Rising, Nash tapped his butter knife against his glass. “Lorena, sweetheart?” He took her hand.
Even the children quieted. Somewhere, a robin sang.
“Dad, if you don’t go ahead and tell it, I’m going to burst from excitement,” Callie said.
Everyone laughed.
Nash smiled. “We’ve already told the family and received their blessing, but we wanted the rest of you to know, at long last, Lorena has consented to make me the happiest man on earth.”
“It’s about time,” ErmaJean huffed.
Hugs and well-wishes ensued. The children clapped enthusiastically, sensing the joy.
ErmaJean touched Amber’s arm. “This match took some doing, let me tell you, missy.” She winked. “But GeorgeAnne, IdaLee and I proved equal to the task. We applied reverse psychology.”
As Amber remembered it, they’d tried to match Callie’s widowed father to every single lady of a certain age in the county. Everyone except Lorena. And tried setting up Lorena with every middle-aged bachelor. Except Nash Jackson.
“I love it when a plan comes together. With nowhere else to run, they ran straight into each other’s arms.” ErmaJean waggled her finger. “There’s more than one way to peel an apple.”
The matchmakers had never attempted to pair Amber with anyone. Probably writing her off as a lost cause. After all, what man in his right mind would come within a mile of a single mom with two little girls?
For the hundredth time, she tamped down the insidious fear that no man would ever be able to get past the fact that she’d been married—albeit so disastrously—to someone else.
Eager to distract herself from gloomy thoughts, she started clearing away the empty plates.
“Absolutely not.” Callie shooed her away. “Consider yourself off duty today.”
Callie had been a true friend. Sticking by Amber through thick and thin. With Lucy and Stella getting restless, Ethan suggested they take the girls to expend some energy on Maisie’s nearby swing set. Amber readily agreed.
He deposited Lucy into one of the swings, but when he reached for Stella, she shrank into Amber. She’d noticed Stella avoided contact with him. Her daughter wasn’t afraid of him, though. Just wary.
Something Amber would do well to emulate. A guarded heart was a safe heart.
Lucy’s and Stella’s feet dangled above the grass.
“Hang on, Lucy Lou.” Standing behind her, he pulled on the chains. “Are you ready, Stella Bella?”
Rosebud lips tight, Stella faced forward, not responding.
Amber pulled Stella’s swing level with where Ethan held Lucy. “I’m sorry.” Another thing she admired about him—one of many—his persistence in trying to connect with Stella.
“No worries. But you Fleming ladies need to remember that I don’t quit.” He quirked his eyebrow. “If anything, a challenge makes victory all the sweeter.” He let go of the swing, and Lucy sailed through the air.
“Me, Mommy. Me.” Stella bounced.
Ethan smiled at her, and Amber lost her hold on the chain. Stella swung forward, though not as far or fast.
“Higher,” Lucy called. “Faster, Efan.”
With a gentle prod, he sent her swooping again.
“I’m f-whying, Stehwaa!” she shouted. “I’m bigger than you.”
Amber grimaced. “Uh-oh.”
Stella bunched her muscles and pumped her legs, but try as she might she couldn’t attain the same aerial height as her twin. “Mommy!” she implored. “I want to go like Lucy.”
“Competitive little darlings, aren’t they?” Ethan murmured.
With another push, she sent Stella airborne once more. “But despite their squabbling, woe to the outsider who dares to hurt their sister.”
“I think it’s sweet. I always wished I had a brother or sister.”
The pensive tone had returned to his voice.
“Matt and I tried to make you feel like our honorary sibling.”
“You were Matt’s sister. Not mine.” Ethan’s hazel eyes sharpened. “Do you
think of me as a brother?”
“N-no,” she stammered.
He gave her a crooked smile. “Good.” He sent Lucy winging.
“Mommy!” Stella protested. “Push harder.”
Amber crossed her arms. “I’m not as strong as Ethan. If you want to go as high and fast as Lucy, Ethan is the only one who can get you to where you want to go.”
She blushed. Far more truth in that than she cared to contemplate. Stella’s swing slowed.
“Okay,” Stella called at last. “Ethan, would you, please...?”
“Your wish is my command, Stella Bella.” Taking Amber’s place, he gave her a mighty shove. Squealing with glee, Stella soared high away from the ground.
Ethan’s mood seemed to have improved. And because he’d been transparent enough to share a piece of his heart with Amber, she felt compelled to return the favor.
“You’ve never asked me about... About...” Amber moistened her lips.
He kept both girls zooming toward the treetops. “About what?”
“About Tony. My ex-husband.” She spared a glance to make sure the twins were too occupied to overhear. “Their biological father.”
He staggered, momentarily losing his footing. “I didn’t want to pry.”
She laughed, though not with mirth. “Well, that would make you the only one in Truelove.”
He gave her the lopsided grin that buckled her knees. “Gotta love Small Town, USA.” He immediately sobered. “But if it’s too painful, you don’t have to tell me anything.”
“The whole thing was painful.” She swallowed. “From beginning to end. But lately, I’ve felt better able to process it. Let it go.”
An emotional healing she suspected she owed as much to Ethan’s return to Truelove as anything else.
“Didn’t Miss ErmaJean tell you what happened?”
“Only that he worked for your father at the rafting company.”
The way Ethan said “he” made clear his opinion of the twins’ father. She appreciated Ethan’s unreserved loyalty. She’d known little of that since the fateful summer she met Tony. Loyalty and honesty were everything to her now.