Gentle Like the Rain: A Heart's Design Novel

by JoAnn Durgin

  The older woman sipped daintily from her bottle. “I also understand he’s Caroline’s oldest brother from Boston. And you were riding in his fancy red sports car through town. That must have been fun for you.”

  Isabella gave a noncommittal shrug. “He needed help getting to Seth and Caroline’s new house. I didn’t close the store while I was with him if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  The older woman huffed. “That’s not my point. I’m not a bit concerned about that. This store’s your baby now. You wouldn’t leave it unattended, and you were hospitable to a visitor in our little town. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Tommy watched over the store for me, and from all appearances—and based on the fact I didn’t hear from Sheriff Watters—everything was quiet during the time I was gone. You know how crazy it would be to try and explain the directions to that area of town. It’s next to impossible, and his GPS probably would have exploded. But the house is fabulous and worth finding.” Isabella took another quick swig of the rich, amber-colored liquid.

  “Speaking of which…”

  Oh, no. Based on Clara’s smile, Isabella had unwittingly given her aunt the perfect segue. Time to ward off any further speculation. “He roared into town,” Isabella said quickly. “He’s also rather overbearing and pompous. Throws his money around.”

  “Handsome, too, I understand.”

  Isabella almost choked on her sip of root beer. “Why does that matter?”

  “It doesn’t, but you confirmed my suspicions.”

  Shaking her head, Isabella blew out a sigh. “The man’s only here in town temporarily. The town gossips can put any speculation to rest.”

  “God told me you’re going to marry that young man.”

  Stunned speechless, Isabella’s cheeks warmed as a flush of heat raced through her. Just because Clara’s big proclamation that she’d sell Mahoney’s to her actually happened didn’t mean a thing. Maybe her aunt was growing crazier with each passing minute. Or maybe she was.

  “Aunt Clara…” Isabella hesitated, grasping for words. Drawing in a deep breath, she released it slowly as she searched her mind for a response. Coming up with a counter statement had been easy in business, but not so much when it concerned her personal life.

  No reason to be thrown off-kilter.

  For her part, Clara took another long, slow drink from her bottle. As usual, the older woman appeared completely calm and unflappable. “What you do is your own business, Isabella, but the way I see it, you can’t argue with the Almighty. He’s the ultimate authority.”

  “Yes, but I can argue with you, vessel of His word or whatever you may be.” Isabella focused on the antique reproduction photo of Uncle Phil, Aunt Clara, and her five cousins in Gold Rush era clothing on the opposite wall. The story her mother used to tell about Clara facing down a rattler must be true since Isabella had never seen her flinch in the face of anything.

  Lord, help me know what to say.

  Not that Isabella doubted the Lord might have spoken to her aunt. Anything was possible. Clara was a proven prayer warrior of the highest caliber. At the moment, Isabella wished Clara would keep her out of it. She could live her own life, thank you very much, although her aunt meant well and had her best interests at heart. If Isabella could humor the daily phone calls from Hattie, why not do the same with Aunt Clara’s messages—or whatever they were—from God?

  “I still have a lot to learn about how the Lord works in someone’s life,” Isabella said slowly. “All I’m asking is that you let me handle my life in my own way. Besides, from all appearances, Mr. Prescott seems to place a higher value on worldly things.”

  Isabella bit back a sigh and lowered her gaze. What a hypocrite she was. During her years in Hartford, she’d been as materialistic as they come. If the Lord could forgive her many sins, then He could forgive Sidney.

  Clara leaned close and lowered her voice. “Even if that’s true, you know as well as I do that there’s always hope for Sidney Prescott as long as he’s walking this earth. God led him to Evergreen for a purpose. Maybe it’s so Caroline and Seth can share God’s love with him. Or maybe so you can share with him.” She sat back with an expression of triumph. “God brought him here to the store, and then He put you in that car of his, didn’t He? That’s no small thing.”

  Isabella tried not to reveal her frustration. “I’ll agree there’s a good possibility that God sent Sidney here for a specific reason, but I don’t think meeting and marrying me is one of them. Maybe you misinterpreted what He said. Did God literally speak to you, Aunt Clara? As in you actually heard His voice? If that’s the case, does His voice have more of a Sean Connery richness or a Harrison Ford huskiness?” She didn’t mean to sound irreverent, but her aunt’s proclamation flabbergasted her.

  “My hearing and mind are both sharp, young lady. My heart is open to believing that He sent that young man here to meet you.” Her aunt shifted on the wooden crate and sipped her drink. “All right, then. When I say God spoke to me, I don’t mean I heard an actual voice. I prayed specifically for you, but I believe He answered that prayer by the events that took place yesterday afternoon. Or He started the process, anyway.”

  Her aunt met her gaze. “Take things as they come, Isabella. And pray.”

  “Of course, I’ll pray.” She would, but how to pray was more the question.

  “If Sidney Prescott is the man for you.”

  Isabella frowned. “Aunt Clara, you know how much I love you, but I have to say, it’s intimidating when you make a prediction like that. These are life-changing things, you know. Big things. Huge! Besides, as far as I know, God doesn’t go around telling people whom to marry.”

  “God certainly made it clear that Hosea should marry Gomer, and that Joseph should take Mary as his wife.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you those two. But in the case of Mary and Joseph, they were already in love and engaged,” Isabella said. “They had a head start.”

  “Yes, and just look how that story ended up.” Clara slapped her hand on the checkerboard. “Changed the world, led to God’s plan of redemption, and gave us sinners the opportunity of an eternity in heaven. So, who’s to say God doesn’t reveal His will to others?”

  “I’m not refuting that, but I’m also not a theologian. Far from it.” Placing her hand over Clara’s, Isabella gave her a light squeeze. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed when things don’t work out the way you expect or hope. If Sidney doesn’t know the Lord, then that needs to be the focus of our prayers. If God can use me as His instrument in helping Sidney in his faith journey, then I’m all for it. What I can promise you is that I’ll keep an open mind about that aspect. Nothing more.”

  “Dear girl, I’ve always known that God has a tailor-made plan for you. Maybe you’ll remain single”—Clara’s expression was skeptical—“and if that’s God’s ultimate will, then so be it. I’d like you to think about something else.” She lowered her voice. “He knows Sidney’s had something in his life that’s broken him, just as you’ve suffered losses. Bringing that man here to Evergreen might be God’s unique way of bringing two hurting souls together in order to heal.”

  Isabella shook her head. “Most people don’t reach my age without enduring some kind of loss.”

  “You’re too young to be such a skeptic. I know my prayers for you will be answered. I’ll tell you something else. God’s spoken directly to my heart four times in my life since I became a believer in Christ, and two of them have involved you, Isabella.”

  “What are the two times that didn’t involve me?”

  “The first was that I should marry your Uncle Phil even though he’d had a broken engagement and was still grieving that relationship when we met. The second was that I was pregnant after two miscarriages. Isabella, I know how much you were hurting after Tristan’s betrayal. All I know is that I want my darling girl to be happy.”

  “I am happy.” Tears stung Isabella’s eyes, and she blinked hard. Content was more app
ropriate. Tristan’s affair with their co-worker still pierced her heart. Maybe she’d never get over it completely although she’d forgiven him and moved on with her life. At the height of her heartbreak, Isabella had shared a heart-to-heart with Clara. Her aunt knew how deeply she’d loved Tristan but also how far she’d fallen into sin.

  And yet, here Clara sat, loving her in spite of her past.

  Jumping up from the wooden crate, Isabella enveloped her aunt in a hug. “Thank you for loving me in spite of myself.”

  “I love you for who you are now and the person you’ve always been. So did your mother and father.” Clara kissed her cheek. “And so does the Lord. He loves you with a passion we can only imagine. I want you to know something else.” A tear slipped down Clara’s lightly rouged cheek, and she quickly brushed it away.

  “What’s that?”

  Clara’s eyes softened as she rested one hand on the side of Isabella’s face. “No one told me that young man’s first name. You called him Mr. Prescott, but then I said the name Sidney—I firmly believe God put his name on my tongue—before you said his first name to see if I was correct. Then you confirmed it.”

  Isabella stuttered. “Then what…? How?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? It’s Who.” Clara patted her cheek. “The name Sidney was clear as a bell when God spoke to me. I don’t know how else to explain it, but I knew. Normally, I don’t even care for the name Sidney. I knew a Sidney once, and he wasn’t a very nice man. That kind of sticks with a person.”

  “If it helps, I don’t think Sidney likes his name much, either.” The name was growing on Isabella, along with the man.

  Clara nodded. “I like him already.”

  “I do, too, Aunt Clara.”

  The older woman finished her root beer. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Chapter 9

  “Harley Davidson, is that you over there?”

  Harley Davidson? Seriously? Sidney followed the direction of the librarian’s glare and spied a pimply faced teenage boy with long, stringy, dishwater blond hair and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The kid fake coughed into his fist.

  “Sit yourself down and stop making inappropriate phone calls while you’re in my library, young man. And none of that sex-texting nonsense.”

  “I’m not being inappropriate, Maid—I mean, Miss Millicent. I swear I’m not.”

  “And none of that swearing. You know better than that.” Marching up to the kid, hands on her hips, the woman planted herself in front of him.

  Sidney couldn’t look away if he tried. He wasn’t about to leave. This scenario was better than the last three or four movies he’d seen. Of course, two of them were chick flicks he’d been dragged to by blind dates set up by misguided associates.

  Maid Millicent was younger than he’d thought and attractive—medium height and weight, brownish-red hair pulled back with a clip, plain clothing, sensible shoes—although she sounded, in terms of attitude, like a much older woman.

  “If you’d spend half as much time on your studies as you do romancing Jenny Masters, you’d have your diploma by now. You’re already behind, so you’ve got some studying to do. Now get!” Millicent gave the kid a swift swat with the oversized book in her hand. Sidney tilted his head. Looked like a children’s picture book. Would that work for a kid about six or seven?

  Before he knew what was happening, Millicent whirled around and stared him down. “And what might your name be?”

  He almost saluted. “I might be Sidney Prescott, Miss Millicent.”

  “Prescott? You another one of Caroline’s brothers? Another hotshot lawyer from Boston?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She shook her head. “The ornery oldest one, I’m assuming. She’s only got two brothers, from what I know. And you’ve got that whole pawk the caw in Hawvad yad thing down pat.”

  His reputation must have preceded him. Sidney wouldn’t comment on Millicent’s native Maine accent.

  “Unless there’s a brother I don’t know about, that’s correct.” Why’d he say that? Because with his dad’s track record of mistresses, it might have been possible. Surely they would have come out of the woodwork by now. What a sad commentary. For all of his father’s brilliant legal victories, his moral failures and shortcomings were sobering.

  “You’re the one with that monstrosity of a red car that rolled through town yesterday afternoon, aren’t you?”

  Word got around fast. “Guilty, but it’s not my ca—”

  “With that pretty Isabella Carnivale riding beside you? You got big eyes for her, Mr. Prescott?”

  Maybe if she’d let him finish a sentence, he could try to reason with her. Why couldn’t the townspeople get Isabella’s last name right? Shouldn’t a librarian be more precise? He’d known Isabella less than 24 hours, yet he knew her last name. If he corrected Millicent, it’d make her dislike him more. So, he’d stay silent and continue to be amused by it all.

  “Well, do you? Speak up. You’re a fancy lawyer, and you can’t even answer my question?” If he were feeling vindictive, he’d make a comment on why some middle-aged librarians were still single. That’d only make him a heel.

  Sidney drew in a quick breath. “Look, the length of my stay in town is indeterminate. I doubt anything could happen between Isabella and me even if I do. Have eyes for her. Which I’m neither confirming nor denying.” Give him a feisty woman making accusations and he bumbled like an inarticulate fool. Some of his clients had been easier to deal with than this spitfire. The difference? This time, it was personal, and the townsfolk were already giving off signs they wanted to forge a romantic relationship between him and Isabella.

  The librarian stepped closer, hands still on her hips, and stared him straight in the eye.

  “I didn’t ask how long you’re staying in town. I asked if you’ve got eyes for her. From what I know, you’re a big city slicker, but that doesn’t give you the right to sass me. Or use big words like indeterminate. And, yes, I know what it means.”

  “You don’t happen to write for the local newspaper, do you? Looking for a good story?”

  That brought a glimmer of amusement in her light eyes hidden behind thick eyeglasses. “I care about Isabella. Her Aunt Clara is an upstanding woman. She’s a good friend of mine.”

  At least this woman had close friends in spite of her blunt personality. He’d lost a few of those somewhere along the way. In terms of personal relationships, he had a long way to go.

  When she raised the book again, Sidney figured he was about to get a lick with it. He hadn’t been swatted like that since Nanny Regina caught him smoking in his bedroom closet when he was thirteen.

  “I assure you, Miss Millicent, as lovely as Miss Caccavale is, I did not come to Evergreen in search of a woman. I will not play around with Isabella’s affections.”

  The woman snorted. “Be sure you don’t play around with anything, mister. Most of all, don’t you go and break her heart. You hear me?” She poked him in the chest with one finger. “If you do, you’ll answer to me and half the people in this town. You got that?”

  “Got it. I don’t intend to break her heart.” It was gratifying to know Isabella inspired such loyalty.

  She harrumphed. “Well, no one intends to break someone’s heart. At least not on purpose or that’s just ten ways to crazy. But I know your type.” Millicent eyed him up and down. If he’d done the same to her, he’d be accused of sexual harassment. “You’re a strapping, handsome fella like that other boyfriend of hers, and he broke her heart. Isabella deserves better.”

  Millicent was giving him all sorts of tidbits about Isabella’s life that might otherwise have taken a long time to get from Isabella herself. If she ever dared to tell him. Had her former boyfriend come to Evergreen to visit her after she’d left Hartford? As great as Isabella was, he didn’t doubt for a second that she’d had serious boyfriends, a fiancé, or even a husband along the way. A part of him hoped s
he hadn’t, but that was none of his business.

  “Can I ask what book you have in your hand?” Sidney pointed to it and then crossed his arms over his chest. As a self-protective measure, he tucked his hands beneath his arms.

  She held it up. “A book about the Underground Railroad.”

  “What, uh, age group would you say that’s for?”

  “If the child’s an average reader, I’d say about seven. Why? You got a child?”

  “No, but I know someone who needs a few books for a boy about that age.”

  “Someone I know?”

  He sighed. “Nothing gets by you, does it Miss Millicent?”

  “Not if I can help it. I know all the kids in Evergreen. Come with me to the Young Readers section, and we’ll find something.”

  “That sounds like a plan. Thanks.”

  Millicent beckoned for him to follow but then stopped abruptly. “Wait. You’ll need a library card.”

  “Can’t I just use Caroline or Seth’s number?”

  “Nope. You’re responsible for your own debt, especially if you don’t return the books. Keeps people accountable. Not enough of that these days.”

  “Look, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll give you a whopping deposit. Cash. Just let me borrow some books. Please.” Sidney pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

  “What is it with you fancy city people? You think we can all be bought, is that it? Put your bulging wallet back in your pocket.” The woman’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How long did you say you’re in town?”

  “I didn’t. I don’t know yet. Indeterminate, remember?”

  She snorted. “My hearing’s good, but my short-term memory isn’t so great. So, what happened to bring you up here to Maine? Did you get fired?”

  “No, of course not.” This woman would make a killer prosecutor. “I’m one of the partners in a Boston law firm now that my father’s…incapacitated.” Did she know how it twisted him in the gut to admit that? Why was he even telling her? “All I want is to help out Ned something or other. I don’t know his last name. Can you help me do that?”