by Jenna Mindel
“Despite going about it the wrong way, I’m more convinced than ever that we need the preschool.” She looked at Chuck. “What if we offered a Spanish program during the summer, as well? We might help your workers’ kids, as well as others, learn English. It would help their parents, too.”
When she saw the idea resonate in Chuck’s eyes, she continued, “Wouldn’t that be incentive for your migrant families to return every summer and give you a more effective workforce? Think of the opportunities we’d open up for those kids.”
Chuck looked more than thoughtful. He looked convinced.
She peeked at Sinclair and loosened the ironclad grip she had on the handle of her purse. She’d never seen him look at her with such pride before. And something else shone from his eyes, too, something so sweet it made her insides turn over.
It made her hope.
“Come on, Chuck. Vote for the preschool. You backed it before as the right choice. Why change when the need is so evident?” her father asked.
Sinclair stepped toward Chuck and held out his hand in peace. “You once said to me that you’d only give to missions that impacted your community. I can’t think of a better mission field then your workers’ kids and kids like Hannah in this community.”
There was no doubting Sinclair’s conviction was real this time. His voice carried a hint of steel, too. He’d help lead the charge until everyone was on board. They both would. They’d do this together.
Hope held her breath in an attempt to quiet her wildly beating heart.
“Listen to them,” Judy added. “It’s tax deductible, for pity’s sake.”
Chuck laughed at that, and then he took Sinclair’s hand for a mighty shake. “Okay, okay, but I’m sticking with my original pledge.” He gave her a quick wink. “The correct one.”
Hope let out her breath in a whoosh and then laughed. Maybe God wanted to test her trust in Him for the rest. It didn’t matter. As long as they remained united as a church behind the preschool, they’d find a way.
“Hope, we need to check out if there’s any state funding available for a bilingual program.” The excitement in Sinclair’s voice was contagious.
“I’ll check on that today.” Hope’s head spun with the possibilities. Considering the agricultural nature of the area, there had to be something out there for them.
They’d find a way.
“Then we are agreed to uphold our last vote to move forward.” Judy clapped her hands together once in resolution like they’d broken from a sports huddle. “I’ll schedule a meeting next week so we can update everyone with the new direction. I’ll help Hope get our financing application updated, and once the pledges are made, we’ll break ground.”
Sinclair took hold of Hope’s hand. “We’ll renew the pledge drive this Sunday. I’ve already got a call into the builder we met yesterday to see what kind of estimate he can give us.” Then he threaded his fingers through hers. “This is going to work.”
“Thank you.” She tugged Sinclair close for a hug, her heart full.
His arms tightened around her.
“Hey, hey. Haven’t you two learned anything from the Cherry Festival?” Chuck thumbed toward the door, but his grin teased. “Take it outside.”
Hope pulled back and giggled like a teenager. Glancing at Sinclair, she noticed the nod he exchanged with her father. What was that all about?
Then he pulled her toward the door. “You heard the man. Let’s take this outside.”
Again she laughed and nearly tripped trying to keep up with Sinclair. She felt a little light-headed, along with a shiver of anticipation.
Once outside, Sinclair lifted her into his arms and spun her around. “This is finally coming together, sweetheart. Thanks to you.”
His endearment made her heart sing. She liked being his sweetheart, but she wanted to be more. So much more. She prayed he’d want that, too.
When he put her back on her feet, she looked into his eyes. “I almost ruined everything. I’m so sorry I went to Chuck when you told me not to.”
He tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know why you did it. Your heart was in the right place, but my pride got in the way. I needed to let that go. I think Chuck and I understand each other better now, and I’ve got you to thank for that.”
Hope laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”
He touched his nose to hers. “He likes saving the day.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Enough talk about Chuck.” Sinclair’s eyes grew serious as he took both her hands in his. “Hope, I know we should date awhile, but I don’t think that’s going to work.”
She searched his face and grinned. “You’re right, it’s not.”
At the surprised look on his face, she continued, “I think I’ve waited long enough to tell you that I love you.”
He wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her close. “Then what do you propose we do about it?”
Hope took a deep breath. “Get married.”
“When?” Sinclair brushed his lips against hers.
Hope tried to think clearly. How long would it take to plan a backyard wedding? “How about when your house is ready?”
“Our house. I bought it for us.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? You never said so.”
“How could I? I’ve been trying to do this right and not rush things, and here you are proposing to me after only two dates.”
She shook her head. “I’ve loved you since I was fifteen. That’s not exactly rushing things.”
He chuckled and cupped her face for another soft kiss. “And I love you, Hope Petersen. It just took me longer to figure that out.”
Hope nearly burst with happiness. “When did you know?”
“For certain? When you fell down at the Fourth of July picnic. But I had a pretty good hint the moment I begged you not to quit.”
“I’m so glad that I didn’t,” Hope whispered.
“Me, too.” He gave her another featherlight kiss. “I need you in so many ways. You’re part of who I am.”
“You’re part of who I’ve become,” Hope said.
“I love who you’ve become, but you’re supposed to let me do the asking.”
She grinned. “Well, get to it then.”
“Bossy girl. Will you marry me?”
“Absolutely.”
He kissed her then, thoroughly and with such tenderness that her entire body melted into him.
She felt like they’d joined their souls at last. And it was well worth the wait.
Epilogue
Three weeks later, Hope looped her arm through her father’s and they stepped off the porch of the house where she’d grown up. She’d experienced so much heartache here, and finally she’d leave home wrapped in joy.
“Ready?” her dad asked.
She scanned the throng of wedding guests. Chuck and Mary Stillwell sat on her side toward the front, as if they were her family. They were. They were part of her church family.
Chuck had given Sinclair the keys to the Stillwell family’s summer cottage on Mackinac Island for their honeymoon. After spending their wedding night in their own house, they’d make the trip there for a nice long week of fun.
Her gaze rested on Sinclair, who stood tall and handsome in a light tan suit fixed with a black-eyed Susan wildflower pinned to his lapel. He stood alone, next to her church’s previous minister, who’d traveled north to marry them.
Sinclair smiled when he saw her.
She smiled in return. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
“I hope Sinclair knows what a beautiful woman he’s getting for a wife,” her father said.
She patted his arm. “Thanks, Dad, but he knows.”
Hope had dressed in a si
mple white eyelet gown that brushed her ankles. Her hair had been scattered with wildflowers that echoed her bouquet of black-eyed Susans and sweet pea.
“Watch your step,” her dad whispered as they slowly made their way across the gravel driveway. “Don’t know why you wouldn’t wear shoes.”
“I don’t need them.” Hope had once told her sister, during Sara’s fuss over shoes for her wedding with Ryan, that she wouldn’t care if she married barefoot. As long as she married the man she loved, she’d be happy.
That man had always been Sinclair.
Hope believed Sara looked down on them today, and she probably laughed at Hope’s bare feet, but it sent a message. One her sister would appreciate.
She spotted Ryan in the front row, sitting with his family on the groom’s side, looking solemn but pleased. Hope understood why he’d gently refused Sinclair’s offer to stand in as best man. Sara would have been her matron of honor, and no one could adequately fill that role. So no one did.
Hope offered up a quick prayer for her new brother-in-law, asking God to heal his heart and bring him peace—and one day, maybe even bring him new love.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story by Jenna Mindel,
be sure to check out the other books this month
from Love Inspired!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Rancher’s Refuge by Linda Goodnight
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for picking up a copy of my book. I hope you’ve enjoyed the characters as much as I have. I had no intention of writing a minister hero, but Sinclair Marsh, a mere mention in Season of Dreams (February 2011), had a mind of his own and he pretty much steamrolled his way into my brain. The surprise came when this book turned out to be Hope’s story about her pain in loving Sinclair for so many years—her first love, who’d always wandered away from her.
Makes me wonder how hurt God feels when His people wander away from His steadfast love. Thank goodness that real love is always there for us, and no matter how far we wander, forgiveness is one turn around, where we can come home to the blessed arms of Jesus, God’s only son.
Many blessings,
Jenna
I’d love to hear from you. Please visit my website at www.jennamindel.com or drop me a note c/o Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279
Questions for Discussion
Courting Hope opens with Hope Petersen threatening to quit her job. Is she justified in that reaction? How would you feel if you were in her shoes?
Sinclair Marsh has returned home after three years of running away from his part in an accident that killed Hope’s sister. Saying he’s sorry doesn’t quite cut it when he approaches Hope’s parents. Was he right to apologize so early in the book, or should he have waited until after he’d rebuilt the relationship? Why or why not?
Hope’s feelings for Sinclair resurface, and that frustrates her to no end. She’s always loved him, yet considering that her feelings were never returned, why couldn’t she get over her first love? Do you believe love is something that just hits you, or is it a choice?
Do you remember your first love with fondness or despair?
Hope is surprised to find out that her father’s issue with Sinclair is about her, not about her sister’s accident. Why is Hope’s dad trying so hard to protect her? Is he right to do so?
Sinclair’s brother, Ryan, is bitter over how long Sinclair has been away. Why is it so hard to forgive the ones we love when they let us down?
Hope tends to think of others before herself. An admirable trait, but how has that held her back from realizing her own dreams? Is there something you’d like to do but you’re holding back for fear of letting someone else down?
Sinclair wants to court Hope, but decides that he should first overcome the obstacles that might stand in their way. One of those hurdles is getting approval from Hope’s parents before asking her out. Should he have worried about that? Why or why not?
Sinclair battles an impulsive nature that has gotten him and Hope into trouble in the past. How does Sinclair show that he’s grown out of that throughout the story?
We don’t always know why we have to wait for things, but God knows, and we can trust that He knows what is best for us. God brought Sinclair home at the right time for him to fall in love with Hope and fulfill her heart’s desire. Does waiting make the receiving any sweeter? Why or why not?
The bible verse I chose for Courting Hope is Ecclesiastes 3: there is a time for everything under heaven. Take a moment and read the entire chapter of Ecclesiastes 3. How do you interpret that passage?
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.
Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired every month!
Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Chapter One
Left hand riding lightly on his thigh, Austin Blackwell held the reins with the other and picked his way through the thick woods above Whisper Falls, Arkansas. If one more calf strayed into this no-man’s land between his ranch and the cascading waterfall, he was putting up another fence. A really tall one. Barbed wire. Electrified. Let the folks of the small Ozark town whine and bellow that he was ruining the ambience or whatever they called the pristine beauty of these deep woods. They just didn’t want to lose any tourist money. Well, he didn’t want to lose any cattle money, either. So they were on even playing field. He’d never wanted to open the waterfall to tourism in the first place.
Now, every yahoo with an itch to climb down the rock wall cliff and duck behind the curtain of silvery water traipsed all over his property just to mutter a prayer or two. Wishful thinking or pure silliness. He’d made the trek a few times himself and he could guarantee prayers whispered there or anywhere else for that matter were a waste of good breath.
Something moved through the dense trees at his left and Austin pulled the horse to a stop. Cisco flicked his ears toward the movement, alert and ready to break after the maverick at the flinch of his master’s knee.
“Easy,” Austin murmured, patting the sleek brown neck while he scoped the woods, waiting for a sight or sound. Above him a squirrel chattered, getting ready for winter. Autumn leaves in reds and golds swirled down from the branches. Sunlight dappled between the trees, although the temperature was cool enough that Austin’s jacket felt good.
He pressed his white Stetson tighter and urged the bay onward in the direction of the falls, the direction from which the movement had come. Might be the maverick.
“Coyote, probably.” But black bear and cougar weren’t out of the question. He tapped the rifle holster, confident he could handle anything he encountered in the woods. Outside the ranch was a different matter.
The roar of the falls increased as he rode closer. Something moved again and he twisted in the saddle to see the stray heifer break from the opposite direction. Cisco responded with the training of a good cutting horse. Austin grappled for the lariat rope as the calf split to the right and crashed through the woods to disappear down a draw.
Cisco wisely put on the brakes and waited for instructions. Au
stin lowered the rope, mouth twisting in frustration. No use endangering a good horse in this rugged, uneven terrain.
At least the stray had headed in the right direction, back toward the ranch.
“Yep, I’m puttin’ up another fence.” He patted Cisco’s neck with a leather-gloved hand. Somewhere along the meager stretch of old barbed wire the calves had found a place to slip through. Maybe in one of the low places or through a washout from one of the many creeks branching from the Blackberry River. Finding the break across three miles of snaggy underbrush would be a challenge.
But Austin liked it up here on the grassy, leaf- and hickory-lined ridge above Whisper Falls. Always had, especially before the stories started and people came with their noise and tents and plastic water bottles. Before the name changed from Millerville to Whisper Falls—a town council decision to attract tourists. He understood. He really did. Ruggedly beautiful, this area of the Ozarks was isolated. Transportation was poor and there was little opportunity for economic growth, especially since the pumpkin cannery shut down.
The remoteness was why he’d come here. The economy was why he ranched.
Those were also the reasons the little town had changed its name and started the ridiculous marketing campaign to attract tourism. Whisper Falls. Austin snorted. No amount of marketing moved God to answer prayers.
He shifted in the saddle to look toward the ninety-feet-high waterfall.
Here, the Blackberry River tumbled faster than near the ranch, picking up speed before plummeting over the cliff in a white, foamy, spectacular display of nature’s force and beauty.
The solitude of the woods soothed him, helped him forget. Nature didn’t judge the way people would. He could be himself. He could relax.
The air was clean here, too, tinted with the spray of freshness from the bubbling falls. It almost made him feel clean inside again. Almost. He breathed the crispness into his lungs, held the scent. Hickory and river, moist earth and rotting leaves. Good smells to an outdoorsman. Great smells to a man whose past stank like sewage.