“Darling, don’t look so suspicious.”
Claire’s voice turned low and sultry. She reminded Tony of a cat closing in on its prey. “It’ll be a kick. You and I together just like old times.”
Tony cleared his throat, uncomfortable at the direction in which they were heading and just as uncomfortable at the appeal that road still had. “Claire, things have changed. I’m a minister now.”
Her lips quirked upward.
He folded his arms across his chest. “You find that amusing?”
Claire’s smile widened. “You might have fooled the others—” she leaned forward and placed her hand flat against his chest “—but I know what you’re really like.”
Books by Cynthia Rutledge
Love Inspired
Unforgettable Faith #102
Undercover Angel #123
The Marrying Kind #135
Redeeming Claire #151
CYNTHIA RUTLEDGE
lives in the Midwest and has enjoyed reading romance since her teens. She loves the fact that you can always count on a happy ending.
Writing inspirational romance has been especially gratifying because it allows her to combine her faith in God with her love of romance.
Redeeming Claire is her fourth book for Love Inspired.
Redeeming Claire
Cynthia Rutledge
God has not given us a spirit of fear. But he has
given us a spirit of power and love and self-control.
—2 Timothy 1:7
To Romance authors of the Heartland.
You’re a wonderful group of authors
and I’ve appreciated all your support!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
“Can’t you tell him to shut up?” Claire Waters resisted the urge to cover her ears with her hands. She’d never been overly fond of children, and in front of her the screaming red-faced baby shrieking at the top of his lungs confirmed her good sense.
“If only it could be that easy.” Taylor Lanagan laughed and shoved an identical version of the bellowing baby into Claire’s arms. “Here, you take this one.”
Claire stared in horror at the dark-haired infant. She’d stopped by to get Tony’s address and suddenly she’d been appointed Mary Poppins? No way.
Her gaze swept the room, trying to find a place to dispose of the bundle. She pried his chubby fingers from her new silver-blue linen shell, cringing at the wrinkles left behind. The little boy sucked on his pacifier and stared at her with unblinking green eyes fringed with long jet-black lashes.
If she ever did have a baby, she’d rather have one like this. One that knew how to keep his mouth shut. One that didn’t cause any trouble.
Not like his brother, a monster that continued to scream even while cradled in his mother’s arms. “Claire, I’m sorry. Robbie’s usually not this fussy. I think he’s cutting teeth.”
She wanted to say there was no excuse for bad manners but she doubted Taylor would agree. The woman seemed to be enamored with her twin sons. As was her husband, Nick, the man Claire had once hoped to marry. They were both baby crazy. Despite her father’s disappointment, never had Claire been so glad that she and Nick hadn’t ended up together.
Tony was definitely more her speed. A fun-loving guy who enjoyed spending money as much as she did.
“The address?” Claire prompted.
“I just got a letter from him. Now where did I put it?” Taylor pulled open a drawer and rifled through a stack of envelopes, bouncing her son on her hip, trying to quiet his wails. “Did I tell you he moved to Iowa?”
“Yes.” Claire kept a tight rein on her temper. It wouldn’t do to snap at Taylor. Right now the woman was her only link to Tony Karelli. “But knowing the state doesn’t do me much good.”
“No, this isn’t it.” Taylor shoved an envelope back into the drawer and grabbed another.
My goodness, how long did it take to find one little address?
“Found it,” Taylor said.
Claire could barely hear her above the infant’s ear-piercing cry. But she could see Taylor’s triumphant expression, and when she waived the envelope in the air, excitement surged through Claire.
Her mind raced ahead, planning her strategy and her wardrobe. Perhaps if she wore one of the eye-catching outfits she’d bought last weekend… Perhaps if she offered to pay Tony twice as much as he was making at his current job… Perhaps if she promised him… She smiled, remembering how Tony’s eyes had always gleamed at the mere hint of a little skin. Yes, this was going to work out just fine.
Once her father was pacified, Tony could go back to Hicksville, Iowa, or wherever he’d taken up residence these days, and do whatever it was he’d been doing since he left. And she could go back to doing what she did best—spending her father’s money and having a good time.
“Claire.” The panic in Taylor’s voice caught her attention. “Ryan is spitting up.”
The warning came a second too late. Something warm and foul-smelling dribbled across Claire’s chest. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she shrieked in outrage. The baby’s grin widened, remnants of his breakfast lingering on his lips.
Taylor sat the fussy Robbie in the playpen and hurriedly took the infant from Claire’s arms. It was as if she knew how sorely tempted Claire was to drop the brat right on his padded bottom and wipe that toothless grin from his lips.
“I’m sorry, Claire.” Taylor grabbed a cloth diaper from a stack on the desktop. “You know how babies can be.”
Claire snatched the snow-white square from Taylor’s hand and mopped her chest. Yes, she wanted to tell Taylor, she knew how babies could be, and that’s why she didn’t have any.
“Of course.” Claire bit her tongue and forced a smile. “Could I have that address? I really need to get going.”
Taylor scribbled on a sheet of paper and handed it to Claire. “Did I tell you what he’s doing now? You’ll never believe it.”
Claire backed toward the door, the coveted address clutched tightly in her hand. There was no longer a need to extend her visit or even be civil. She’d gotten what she wanted.
“He’d just finished—” The shrill ring of the phone stopped Taylor’s words and started both babies crying.
Didn’t they ever shut up? Claire wanted to scream. But she didn’t have to put up with it now. She moved quickly to the door, opening it in a single jerk. “I’d love to chat but I’ve got to go.”
Taylor opened her mouth, but Claire didn’t give her a chance. She gave a jaunty wave, slammed the door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief.
Mission accomplished.
Tony Karelli heaved a relieved sigh. It had been tight, but in the end he’d been able to cram all essential items into the attic area he’d rented until the parsonage could be completed. He’d risen at the crack of dawn, a man with a mission. But now that he had everything unpacked and put away, he was just a hungry man with a growling stomach reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
What better way to reward himself for a morning of hard work than by accepting his new landlady’s offer of lunch? When he’d rented Darlene Sandy’s studio apartment she’d informed him lunch was available from eleven to one every day in the downstairs dining room.
And last ni
ght when she’d mentioned that fact once again, she’d added that it would be nice if he stopped down so they could get better acquainted. Her intent was clear. He’d seen the questions in her eyes when he’d rolled into town late last night and read the disappointment on her face when he’d been too tired to stay up and talk. She wanted answers.
A smile creased his lips. Truth be known, he didn’t mind answering questions. In fact he was looking forward to getting acquainted. He’d wanted a small town for the very reason many of his classmates didn’t. His father had spent years in the military before he went into political service so Tony had moved a lot when he was young. Now, at twenty-eight, he was ready to put down roots. He wanted to get to know everyone in this small Iowa town on a first-name basis. The last thing he wanted was to preach the gospel to a bunch of nameless faces every Sunday.
He’d spent the last two years in the seminary dreaming of this moment. He was eager to get on with his life and start doing God’s work. Becoming part of the community in which he would be ministering was a necessary first step.
He headed for the stairs. The door clicked shut behind him and locked automatically. He smiled, remembering how Mrs. Sandy had been almost apologetic about the need to lock the doors. It was necessary, she explained, because of all the out-of-town people who stayed in the house.
It was funny. He’d grown up in cities where you’d never consider not locking your doors. In fact most of the homes he’d lived in had security systems that rivaled those at Fort Knox. But Mrs. Sandy had felt she had to explain why they locked the doors. It was another indication that he’d made the right choice in coming to Millville.
Tony headed down the two flights to the main floor. The smell of fresh baked bread grew stronger with each step. He paused at the first landing and glanced at his watch. Ten minutes and lunch would be over. He increased his speed.
As his feet hit the hardwood floor of the foyer, he caught a glimpse of himself in the beveled mirror on the opposite wall and skidded to a stop. His hand rose to rub the dark stubble on his cheeks, and he stifled a curse. He’d been so busy unpacking he’d forgotten to shave. And that wasn’t all. He glanced at the well-worn jeans and Denver Bronco’s T-shirt he pulled on this morning. They’d been fine for working in his apartment, but he knew his mother would have had a fit if he’d showed up at her table in such casual attire. But his mother was a Washington socialite, and Mrs. Sandy was—well, Mrs. Sandy.
A mouthwatering aroma mingled with the smell of the bread, and his stomach growled again, more insistently this time. If he took time to change, he’d miss lunch. He headed toward the dining room.
Sunlight streamed in through a huge window overlooking the spacious front yard. The leaded glass at the top scattered rainbows of light throughout the tastefully appointed room. His heart sank as he realized the dining room was empty.
Disappointment coursed through his veins. A day late and a dollar short.
The story of my life.
Not anymore, he reminded himself. Not since he’d put his life in God’s hands.
The door to the kitchen burst open, and Tony shifted his gaze. A short, plump woman with tightly permed hair and a friendly face plowed through the doorway. She stopped abruptly and her eyes widened. “Pastor Karelli. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I just came down for lunch.” Tony smiled ruefully and gestured to the empty table. “But I guess I’m a little too late.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Sandy’s smile widened. “April—that’s my daughter—and I were just sitting down to eat in the kitchen. We’d love to have you join us.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“How can you intrude?” The woman chuckled. “We’re all living under the same roof, so you’re family now. C’mon, the soup is getting cold.”
The tension that had tightened his neck into knots eased. He’d never been as comfortable with strangers as he appeared. He hoped it wouldn’t be long until he felt as if they were family. He smiled and followed her into the kitchen.
A pretty blonde with enormous blue eyes sat at the table. She straightened in her chair the moment Tony walked through the door.
“Pastor Karelli, this is my daughter April.”
Tony stared, baffled. “I thought you said your daughter was in high school?”
A pleased expression blanketed April’s face, and she laughed, a sultry purr so far removed from a girlish giggle as to not even be comparable. She’d taken the hand he’d extended and held it, making no effort to let go. Her manicured nails were long and a vibrant shade of pink. For an instant an image of Claire Waters flashed. This girl had the same blatant sensuality that Claire had always projected, only April was a small-town version. “I may not look seventeen, but then you don’t look like a pastor, either.”
“We all have our cross to bear.” Tony smiled politely and pulled back his hand. He took a seat at the table opposite April.
Mrs. Sandy chuckled and filled his bowl with a noodle and vegetable concoction that smelled delicious before shifting her gaze to her daughter. “April, be sure and get those beds made before you leave for the video store.”
April ignored her mother; her gaze focused on Tony. “I could call in sick at the store. I’d be glad to show you around town.”
He didn’t even have to come up with an excuse. Mrs. Sandy leveled a glinting gaze at her daughter. “You begged me to let you take that job. And I agreed even though it’s leaving me shorthanded here. Don’t you even think about not going in.”
A petulant look crossed the girl’s face, and in that moment Tony caught a glimpse of the teenager behind the carefully applied makeup.
“I’m not hungry after all.” April pushed back her chair with a clatter and stood, carefully avoiding her mother’s gaze. She smiled at Tony. “Maybe another time.”
“Sure,” he said.
Mrs. Sandy filled her own bowl with soup and took the seat vacated by her daughter. She shook her head in disgust. “Teenagers.”
Tony cut a slice of the homemade bread sitting in the middle of the table and didn’t comment.
“Were you like that as a teenager, Pastor? Always on the go with your friends? In such a hurry to grow up?”
The memories flooded back. He’d been a geek as a teen. With his braces, glasses, acne and a few extra pounds, he’d been lucky to have any friends, much less any place to go. His only goal had been to fit in. If he hadn’t had Taylor…
He pushed the thought aside. She was married now, happily married, with two little boys.
“Pastor?”
Tony realized with a start that the question hadn’t been rhetorical. The woman actually expected an answer. “Not really.”
The woman’s look was clearly disbelieving, but he’d spoken the truth. His nights had been filled with books, video games and television. Classic nerd activities.
“Did you and your fiancée meet in high school or college?”
For a second he’d sworn she’d said fiancée. He took a sip of his cola. Maybe he wasn’t as awake as he thought. “When I was in high school I had friends that were girls, but nothing serious. We were more good friends rather than boyfriend, girlfriend.”
Mrs. Sandy nodded approvingly. “That’s what I try to tell April. She’s got plenty of time to get serious when she’s older.”
“That’s true.” He took another bit of the thick oat bread.
“How long then have you and your fiancée known each other?”
Tony choked on the bread. He reached for the cola. This time he was sure he hadn’t misheard. The woman had definitely said fiancée.
“Mrs. Sandy.” He cleared his throat and paused. He didn’t want to embarrass the poor woman, but he had to clear up her obvious mistake. She’d been on the selection committee, and she must have gotten him mixed up with Josh Turner, the other finalist for the position. Josh and his fiancée, Andrea, were the ones planning on being married in July. “I’m not—”
The phone r
ang, and she picked it up immediately. “Yes, he’s here.”
She held her hand over the receiver and whispered. “It’s Harold Clarke.”
Harold was an elder and the head of the church council. He’d been the one who’d made the final decision on which candidate got the call.
“No, his fiancée isn’t here yet.” She smiled at Tony.
A band tightened around his chest.
“I’m not sure if she’s coming down before the wedding or not. We haven’t gotten that far. Sure, I’ll be here all day. Stop over anytime.”
She hung up the phone and turned her attention to Tony. “Now where were we?”
He answered her question with one of his own, stalling for time. “Is Mr. Clarke stopping by?”
“He said he’d try. I know he wants to be one of the first to welcome you to town. But the bank keeps him pretty busy this time of year. And then he’s got those three teenagers who are into everything.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and held up the pot. He shook his head.
“I shouldn’t probably tell you this, but family is really important to Harold. The fact that you were getting married really swayed his vote in your favor. The other man I’m sure would have been fine, but Harold was hesitant, what with him being single and all.”
Tony stifled a groan. They had gotten him confused with Josh. What was he going to do now? He’d given up his apartment in DC and spent the last of his money to move halfway across the country. Would he even have a job once they discovered their mistake?
The truth needed to come out. But maybe he should speak with Mr. Clarke first, plead his case. Tony knew he could do a good job if given the chance.
“I remember what we were talking about.” Mrs. Sandy leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “We were talking about your fiancée. Andrea, isn’t it?”
Redeeming Claire Page 1