“What?”
“I don’t know your name. Your real name! I’m about to say yes to a stranger!”
He grabbed her up and placed a hard smack on her lips. “You said yes!” Everything was right in his world.
“I said I was going to say yes. I want to know what my last name is going to be.”
He laughed. “I want you to become Mrs. Holt McKnight.”
Blair’s eyes sparkled. “Blair McKnight. I love it.”
“I love it more. And I’m moving here. Bought the store. I want the life I pretended to have.”
Blair’s eyes leaked tears. “I was coming to Memphis. To tell you I’m okay being with an agent. With a real superhero.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love that you’d be okay with that. I do. But I want this. This life in Hope. With you. I like being next door to you at work, and in the same house with you at night.”
Blair wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Holt McKnight.”
“And I love you.” He sank into the kiss then. No need for Fireworks on the Square. They were creating a celebration of their own. Freedom. Joy. Hope. Faith.
All sealed with one glorious kiss.
EPILOGUE
Blair shivered as she entered the store, the bell ringing above. An angel got its wings. She giggled and switched on the lights, then dashed to the back of the store and grabbed her early Christmas present for Holt.
It was the day before Christmas Eve and she had to hurry before heading over for Christmas in the Square. They were showing It’s a Wonderful Life and serving hot chocolate and cookies.
The door opened and the bell jingled. Then it jingled again. And again. Frowning, she entered the room and the sight of Holt sent warm fuzzies through her. Her husband since October. They’d had an outdoor wedding. A honeymoon under the stars but not in a pup tent. A great big white tent with a queen-size bed and flowers all around. It had been blissful.
He stood laughing. His hair poking out from under his black knit cap, a Christmas scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked into his gray goose-down coat. A sight to behold. And all hers.
“Why are you doing that? Stop opening and closing the door.” She laughed and frowned.
“It’s almost Christmas Eve. I think a whole host of angels need wings.” He shut the door and snorted. “I would have closed up earlier, but that new girl who took over the Magnolia Inn came in and bought a canoe. In December. Weird, huh? But then, she’s from Ireland.”
“And what? They canoe in December?” Mrs. McKay died last month and willed the Magnolia Inn to her two great-granddaughters, Claire and Keely McKay. Blair loved their accents.
“I don’t know if they canoe or not, but we should take a trip to Ireland sometime.” Holt drew Blair into his arms.
“We should. But first, I have a gift for you. An early Christmas present.”
Holt raised an eyebrow, then stole a kiss on her neck. “Do you, now?”
She giggled and pushed away from him. God had been so good to her. Blessed her in good times and in the rough ones.
“Okay. I’m ready. Do I have to close my eyes?”
“No.” She handed him the small silver-wrapped gift box.
He smirked. “It’s not cocaine, is it? Dead rat?”
She gave him a pointed look.
He chuckled and tore into the paper, then ripped the lid off the box. Like a little kid. His eyes grew as big as the Grinch’s heart. Three sizes! His mouth fell open. “It’s a plus sign.”
“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
He dropped the test on the counter and wrapped her in a bear hug. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too. And if he’s a boy, I’d like to name him Jeremy Renard McKnight. A piece of him and a piece of you...in a way.”
Holt chuckled into her neck and kissed her on the tender spot below her ear. “No George Bailey?”
She pulled back, full of joy, full of expectant hope. How she adored this man who’d slipped into her town and her heart undercover. “Maybe they’ll be twins.”
“Bite your tongue, woman.” But the sparkle in his blues revealed his hope for exactly that.
She fell headlong into the warmth and sweetness of his kiss. There was no denying it:
This was a wonderful life.
* * * * *
If you liked this story from Jessica R. Patch,
check out her other Love Inspired Suspense titles:
FATAL REUNION
PROTECTIVE DUTY
Available now from Love Inspired!
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Keep reading for an excerpt from BIG SKY SHOWDOWN by Sharon Dunn
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Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Holt and Blair’s story. Maybe you can relate to Holt. He had big dreams and lots of plans that he’d committed to the Lord, but a tragedy in his life ripped them out of his grasp and he feared to dream again. To hope again. He buried his faith when he buried someone he loved deeply. One of my favorite accounts in the Bible is Jesus traveling to raise Lazarus from the dead. Lazarus’s sisters were devastated. All seemed lost. No hope. And yet Jesus called Lazarus to come forth. The passage tells us that he immediately arose and came out of the tomb, still bandaged from his grave clothes.
Maybe all your hopes and dreams have decayed in a tomb built by tragedy, pain, loss. If you can muster up even a mustard-seed-sized amount of faith to believe that God can heal your heart, raise up dead or new dreams—like Holt, you’ll find that peace and joy you’ve been craving for so long but were afraid to grab hold of. Maybe it’s time for you to trust Jesus to say, “Come forth!” and see what He raises to life!
I’d love for you to get Patched In! My newsletter subscribers receive first looks at book covers, excerpts and occasional FREE novellas, as well as notifications when new books release. Sign up today at www.jessicarpatch.com. Please feel free to email me at [email protected], join me on my Facebook page, www.Facebook.com/jessica rpatch, for daily discussions and take a peek at my Pinterest board to meet the characters and get an up-close view of the scenes from the book.
Warmly,
Jessica
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Big Sky Showdown
by Sharon Dunn
ONE
Fear skittered across Heather Jacobs’s nerves as half a dozen
birds fluttered into the morning sky. Something had spooked them. She gripped the firewood she’d gathered a little tighter. She was alone here. Her guide, Zane Scofield, had taken his rifle, binoculars and hostility and left muttering something about scouting for elk for the next bunch of hunters he would guide into the high country of Montana.
This trip was to take her up to fulfill the last request of the father she barely knew. Five days ago, a certified letter had come to her home in California. Her father’s dying wish was that she spread his ashes in his favorite spot in the Montana mountains and that Zane, the outfitter who had worked for Stephan Jacobs, be the one to guide her to the spot on Angel Peak. Heather hadn’t seen her father since she was five years old. Her memories of him were faint. Her mother, who had died over a year ago, had never had anything nice to say about her ex-husband.
A brushing sound behind her caused Heather to whirl around. The logs she held rolled from her arms. Her heartbeat revved up a notch. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. She sensed another being nearby.
What kinds of wild animals lurked in the forest?
Now she really wished Zane was closer. He knew how to deal with wildlife. Even if they’d been on each other’s nerves since they left Fort Madison two days ago, she at least felt physically safe when he was around.
She stood as still as a statue, listening to the sound of the creaking trees and the drumming of her pulse in her ears.
Taking in a breath, she leaned over to pick up the firewood she’d dropped. Again, she heard what sounded like something moving toward her. She straightened, her gaze darting everywhere. Adrenaline charged through her, commanding her to run.
The smart thing to do would be to head back to the safety of the fire and camp and maybe even find Zane. A flash of something neon yellow caught her eye. Not a color that occurred in nature. Her heart skipped a beat. Whatever was out there was human. For a moment, she found that reassuring. Better a human than a wild animal. But then apprehension returned. Just who was out here, and why did they seem to be following her?
She saw blond hair for a quick second. A yelp as though someone were in pain filled the forest. The cry sounded childlike. Concerned, she ran toward where she’d seen the movement. Crashing noises up ahead alerted her as another moan of pain filled the forest.
Was a child hurt? Afraid?
She sprinted in the general direction of the noises, running around the trees and ducking out of the way of low-hanging branches. She saw the flash of blond again, a boy. More than ten years old, she would guess—but not by much. Perhaps twelve or thirteen.
She caught only fleeting glimpses of the child in the early-morning light.
She came into a clearing as silence descended once again. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She pivoted one way and then the other, searching.
“Please come out. I won’t hurt you.” The thought of a child in distress made her chest tight. What if he was lost and separated from his family?
She caught movement and heard footsteps to the side of her. She turned, expecting to see the blond boy. Instead, an older, darker-haired teenager emerged from the trees with a knife raised above his head and teeth bared. Terror swept over her like a wave.
She turned and bolted away. She may not be used to this environment, but her work as a personal trainer meant she was in top athletic condition. She could outrun the violence that pursued her.
The blond boy emerged from the other side of the forest, also wielding a knife. He wasn’t injured. She’d been tricked into going deeper into the forest by these two. But why? What did they want from her?
They gave her little choice as to what direction she could run. She turned sharply and sprinted, willing her legs to move faster. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as she increased her speed.
She glanced over her shoulder. The boys gained on her by only a few yards. She ran faster. She could run all day if she had to.
The trees thinned.
Her foot slipped as the ground beneath her gave way. She found herself twirling through space and colliding with the hard earth as she landed on her back. She stared up at the blue sky and swaying tree boughs. With the wind knocked out of her, it took her a moment to comprehend that she’d fallen in a deep hole that had been camouflaged with brush and evergreen branches.
Her eyes traced over the twenty feet of dirt wall on either side of her that held her prisoner. She tilted her head to where the sunlight sneaked through the trees.
A grinning face appeared overhead, blond hair wild and uncombed. The child looked almost feral. They’d forced her in this direction so she’d fall in the hole.
Fear snaked around her torso and caused her to shiver. Now that she was their prisoner, what did they intend to do to her?
The blond boy shook his head, still smiling, pleased with himself. He formed a gun with his fingers, aimed it at her and mimed pulling the trigger. She winced against such a dark action from someone so young.
The older, darker-haired boy popped his head over the edge of the hole. He high-fived the younger kid.
“Dude, we’re so going to get extra rations for this,” said the older boy.
The blond boy continued to grin as he gazed down at her. “Maybe even a promotion.”
“You stay here and guard her,” said the older boy. “I’ll head up to the patrol station so they can radio it in to base camp.”
Patrol? Base camp? That sounded like they were part of an organized group. That meant more were coming, and they probably weren’t boys. A chill enveloped Heather that had nothing to do with the crisp fall morning. She wasn’t rich or famous—they couldn’t hope to hold her for ransom. But the other possibilities for why they would want to kidnap her made blood freeze in her veins.
The older boy disappeared as suddenly as he’d appeared. The blond boy wiped his knife on his pants and stepped away as well. She could hear him above her pacing back and forth, breaking twigs beneath his feet.
Heart racing, she stared up the slick, steep walls. If she could get out, she should be able to overtake or outrun the blond boy. She needed to hurry before the others got here. She positioned her foot in the side of the dirt wall and tried to climb. She slipped. There was nothing to hold on to but moist earth.
The boy popped his head over the edge of the hole again. “You can’t get out, lady. Don’t even try.”
“Why are you doing this?”
He sneered at her in a sinister way. Her heart seized up.
She was trapped. Her only hope was that Zane would get back to camp soon, see that she wasn’t there and come looking for her. That was a thin hope at best.
* * *
Zane Scofield stared through his high-powered binoculars, scanning the hills and mountains all around him. He did need to scout for elk for future trips, but he also had to get away from Heather before he lost it. Just the thought of her made him grit his teeth.
Most of what Heather knew about her father had come through the bitter lens of her mother who had left a drunk in Montana twenty years ago. That was not the Stephan Jacobs whom Zane had come to know seven years ago. The Stephan whom Zane had worked for and been a friend to had been sober and loved God with all his heart.
When Heather had shown up at Big Sky Outfitters, dressed simply in jeans and a sweater, he had wondered what such a beautiful woman was doing on his doorstep. Then of course, she’d ruined that good first impression by talking down the man who had saved Zane’s life in more ways than one.
There was no reply Zane could make to her snide comments, wondering why Stephan had left Big Sky Outfitters to her when he’d supposedly “never cared” about her anyway. Zane was sure that wasn’t the truth—but he couldn’t contradict her when he didn’t know the whole story. Men like Stephan were not in the habit of sharing their pain. Zane suspected that a twent
y-year estrangement from a daughter was one of those wounds that never healed. Maybe that’s why the older man had never mentioned her.
And to make things worse, she’d told him that she intended to sell the business to a competitor, who Zane knew cared more about making money than sharing the beauty of God’s creation with people. Stephan’s legacy would be marred by a man like Dennis Havre.
Zane wanted to honor Stephan’s dying wishes to bring his daughter to the chosen spot to scatter the ashes because the man had meant so much to him, but being with Heather for three more days might be his undoing.
He’d also come up to this vantage point for another reason. For the last day or so, he’d had the strange sense that they were being watched. Bow-hunting season didn’t open up for a couple more weeks, so only extreme backpackers and men on scouting expeditions were likely to be up in the high country this time of year. So who had been stalking them and why?
He saw movement through his binoculars and focused in. Several ATVs were headed down the mountain toward the campsite where he’d left Heather alone. The speed at which they moved, like they knew where the camp was, set alarm bells off for Zane. He zeroed in on one of the ATVs and saw the handmade flag flying on the back end of it. He knew that flag. His mind was sucked back in time seven years ago to when he had lived in these mountains as a scared seventeen-year-old. If this was who he thought it was, Heather was in danger.
He jumped up from his concealed position and bolted down the steep incline. A thunderstorm of emotion brewed inside him. If he hadn’t met Stephan when he did, his life could have gone in a much different direction, and those ATVs reminded him of everything he’d left behind.
Seven years ago, Zane and his brother, Jordan, had escaped foster care and been taken in by a man named Willis Drake. Willis saw a conspiracy around every corner and thought being armed to the teeth and living in the forest would keep him and his followers safe.
At first, Willis had seemed like the father Zane had longed for, teaching him how to shoot and how to live in the wild. If he hadn’t taken the job with Stephan, he would have continued to idolize Willis and buy into his crazy theories.
Concealed Identity Page 20