Love Inspired May 2015 #1

by Brenda Minton

  Fifteen minutes later, Jared slowed to take the turn off the state highway onto the side road Grandma Donnelly—Stowe—lived on. He still had trouble thinking of her as Stowe, even though she and the also-widowed Harry Stowe had married several years ago. She was on the porch waiting for him when he pulled up in front of the house.

  “I heard you coming.” She shooed him inside. “The black flies are still bad this year, even though June’s almost over.”

  “That’s one thing I haven’t missed. But you’re one I have.” He gave her a big hug and kissed her cheek.

  “Save your flirting for someone who’s flattered by it.” The pleasure radiating from her face contrasted with her words and raised a jolt of guilt in him for all the times the racing circuit had brought him near the Adirondacks, and he hadn’t had the guts to make time to come to Paradox Lake.

  He released a snort at the thought of what his fans would think about big, bad international motocross champion Jared Donnelly dreading a visit to his hometown.

  She tilted her head. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to. I read the magazines.”

  Jared cringed. He didn’t know if he should be disturbed or flattered that she followed him in the media. “Aw, Gram, you don’t believe all that drivel.”

  “No.” She smiled. “I know you better than that. Join me for lunch? Harry’s at one of his rental houses getting an estimate on some repairs. He said he’d get lunch at the diner in Schroon Lake so we’d have time for a nice visit.”

  “Sounds good.” Considering her husband Harry’s penchant for talking and knowing everyone from his years as a teacher and principal at Schroon Lake Central High School, he and Gram probably would have all afternoon for visiting.

  “Come on in the kitchen. I figured you’d stop over after you and your brothers got back from the lawyer’s. I have iced tea all made. I just need to put some sandwiches together.”

  A brief rap, followed by a cheery “hello” and the creak of the screen door opening made Jared and his grandmother turn around in the kitchen doorway.

  His chest tightened so he could barely draw a breath. Becca Morgan—Norton—stood in his grandmother’s living room looking as pretty and as untouchable to him as she had in high school.

  * * *

  Becca looked Jared over from his tousled chestnut hair to his strong square jaw and muscular physique. He was taller and more filled out than he’d been in high school when she used to secretly watch him—watch him with the knowledge that despite Schroon Lake High School’s small student body, he didn’t seem to know she even existed. Her cheeks pinked when her stare met his.

  “Oh.” She stopped midstep. “I didn’t know you had company. I brought the dishwasher detergent you asked me to pick up for you in Ticonderoga.”

  “Thanks again. I don’t know why the grocery store in Schroon Lake quit carrying it.” Edna Stowe bustled into the living room and took the bag from Becca.

  “Mom!” Becca’s son, Brendon, lined up beside her, followed by his sister, Ariana. “That’s the guy in my motorcycle magazine Grandpa Norton bought me.”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s Jared Donnelly.”

  “Right here at Mrs. Stowe’s house?”

  Edna laughed. “Yes, Brendon. Jared is my grandson. Jared, this is Becca’s son, Brendon, and his sister, Ari.”

  At the mention of her name, Ari wrapped her arms around Becca’s leg and peered across the room at Jared, sort of like Becca had at school when she’d known Jared wasn’t looking. But that was a long time ago in another life.

  “Mr...Mr. Donnelly. If I get my motocross magazine, will you sign it next to your picture?”

  “Sure.” Jared hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets.

  “It’s in the car. I’ll go get it.” The boy raced out.

  “And I’m going to go back in the kitchen and finish making our lunch. Do you and the kids want to join us?”

  “No, thanks. I treated them to fast food after we finished shopping.”

  Jared moved out of the doorway to let his grandmother through and sauntered over to Becca. “Your son’s a motocross fan?”

  “Since last month when his grandfather bought him a magazine at the chain pharmacy in Ticonderoga.”

  “Sheriff Norton.” Jared’s tone was flat.

  “Former sheriff. He and my mother-in-law—ex-mother-in-law—are retired and thinking about moving to Florida. The North Country winters are getting to them.” Becca rubbed Ari’s shoulder. Why was she running on about Matt’s parents? What would Jared care if they were moving to Florida or to the moon?

  “Winter is something I’m going to have to get used to again,” he said.

  Becca’s mouth went dry. That sounded as if Jared intended to stay in Paradox Lake for a while. Not that she cared. She’d barely known Jared before he’d left here as a teen. She certainly didn’t know the man who’d filled the doorway when she’d first arrived. She looked over her shoulder at the creak of the door opening.

  “Here it is. I got it.” Brendon waved his magazine at her as he raced across the room. “And Mom’s pen from the car.”

  “Let’s see what you have there,” Jared said.

  Her heart warmed when he squatted down to her son’s level. She didn’t know or care whether the interest on his face was real or feigned. Brendon’s father gave him so little of the quality attention her son needed and wanted. Jared’s attention would make her son’s day.

  “That’s one of my favorite magazines. The writers stick to the important stuff, the real motocross news.”

  The edge she caught in his voice made her think of a derogatory comment the kids’ grandfather had made about Jared’s offtrack life being splashed on the front of another magazine he’d seen at the store.

  Brendon leafed through the magazine. “Here.” The nine-year-old tapped the page several time. “This is you.”

  “So it is,” Jared agreed with a smile.

  “Sign here on your motorcycle.” Brendon gave the page another stab.

  Jared signed with a flourish, hamming it up for her son’s benefit.

  “Mommy!” Ari pulled her attention from Jared and Brendon still bent over the magazine, Jared’s dark hair a sharp contrast to her son’s fair hair. “Can I go get my storybook from the car so the man can sign it, too?”

  “The man is Mr. Donnelly.”

  “Jared.” He raised his head, his deep blue eyes challenging her to object.

  “Can I have Mr. Donnelly sign my book?”

  Good girl. She could always count on Ari to do as she was told. Becca caught the sparkle in Jared’s eyes. Maybe too much so. She reminded Becca so much of herself at Ari’s age when her parents had separated temporarily after their third child had been stillborn. The uncertain feelings, wanting to do everything right so Daddy wouldn’t leave, too, and Mommy would come back.

  Jared rose and flexed his knees. “You don’t want me scribbling in your book.”

  Ari’s face crinkled.

  “I have a better idea. You and your mommy go get the book and I’ll read it to you. I used to read to my little brother all the time when our mom worked nights,” Jared added as if to explain his offer.

  Becca swallowed the protest she’d been about to make about keeping him and his grandmother from their lunch. She hadn’t known his mother worked nights, only the town gossip about his father’s partying. Jared was the oldest. He must have watched his brothers for her.

  “You two go and get the book,” Jared said. “I’ll tell Gram to hold lunch for a few minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Becca mouthed over Ari’s head before they walked out to the car.

  Jared and Brendon were on the couch looking at the motocross magazine when they returned. Jared patted the seat beside him and Ari looked u
p at her for an okay. Her chest tightened as she nodded. Ari scrambled over and plopped her book on top of the magazine.

  Becca hung back, feeling as out of place as she had in high school when she hadn’t been insulated by her small circle of friends. She shook it off. She’d been a cheerleader, an honor student, part of the popular group at school. She’d worked hard to never show how shy she really was. Now, she was a tenured high school teacher, mother, homeowner. What was it about Jared Donnelly that put her off-kilter?

  “Becca.” Mrs. Stowe motioned her from the kitchen doorway. “Come out to the garden with me while Jared’s reading. I planted far too much lettuce and spinach as usual. Pick some to take home with you.” The older woman handed her a basket in the back hall behind the kitchen and led the way to the large garden.

  “Take as much as you want. Harry is tired of salads. My kids have their own gardens, and my only grandkids who are still around here are Jared’s brothers. They aren’t vegetable fans. I hate to see good food go to waste.”

  “Since you put it that way.” Becca filled the basket.

  When they got back inside, Jared was just closing the book.

  “Mommy, Mr...Jared—” Ari said, looking up at him with a sheen in her eyes that could only be described as adoration “—read the story twice because you were taking so long. But that’s okay. It’s a good story and he’s a good reader.”

  Brendon rolled his eyes and the three adults laughed.

  “Get your book and thank Mr. Donnelly. We need to get going so he and Mrs. Stowe can have their lunch.”

  “Okay. Thanks for reading my story.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Brendon tilted his rolled magazine toward Jared.

  “You’re both welcome.” Jared stood and walked out to the porch with them.

  The kids waved to him as she turned the car around, and she sensed his gaze on her as she pulled to the end of the driveway. She glanced back and he waved. Jared Donnelly had finally noticed her—at the absolutely worst time possible.

  * * *

  Jared took his time joining his grandmother in the kitchen. Becca’s kids had seemed to like him. But they were young and full of hero worship. He wasn’t anyone’s hero. He was simply very good at motocross racing, something he was going to use to help his hometown and show everyone he and his brothers weren’t cut from the same cloth as their father.

  “Everything’s ready,” his grandmother said as he sat at the kitchen table across from her.

  He picked up his sandwich.

  “Would you say grace?”

  “Sure.” He placed the sandwich back on the plate and blessed their food. “I got out of the practice on the circuit,” he apologized. “Even with the pit pastors as a reminder.”

  “Yes, I read the article on Team Faith you emailed me. I’m glad you had the fellowship of other Christians, especially with what you went through after your friend was killed.”

  “I knew you would be.” His out-of-control actions following his best friend and mentor’s death in a crash had made Jared wonder if he had more of his father in him than he cared to admit.

  “And I knew not to believe what I saw in the grocery store scandal sheets, even—or I should say, especially—when some people around here ate those stories up.”

  “What could you expect given how Dad was?” Jared’s fingers tightened around his glass of tea. He wasn’t going to have an easy time changing people’s minds about him. Bert Miller’s bequest would be a big help, though. For whatever reason, Bert had had faith in him when no one except his mother and grandmother had. And sometimes he wasn’t so sure about his mother. Not that he could blame her.

  “Gram, you and Mom are good people, and so was Grandpa. I’ve always wondered how Dad went so wrong.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. He was already grown when I took the teaching job at Schroon Lake and met your grandfather. But we don’t want to talk about your father.”

  His father was a subject Jared usually avoided, but, surprisingly, he did want to talk about him now. He wouldn’t press Gram, though, if she didn’t want to.

  “You sure hit it off with Becca’s kids,” she said.

  He shrugged and took a big bite of his sandwich.

  “I’ve always liked Becca Norton,” she said.

  He swallowed the bite. So had he. From afar.

  “Weren’t you in the same grade?

  “No, she was a year ahead of me.” One more thing that had put her out of his reach. Jared pictured Becca as she’d looked the first time he’d seen her, at the beginning of his freshman year. Her waist-length hair. Her bright friendly smile. Her hair was shorter now, but the smile was the same.

  “That’s right,” his grandmother said. “She came to Schroon Lake Central from Lakeside Christian Academy the year Harry became principal.” Her eyes went soft when she mentioned her husband of three years.

  Jared reached for his tea. With a kindergarten-through-twelfth-grade student body of less than three hundred, any new student at Schroon Lake Central School stuck out. But Becca had even more so—at least for him. He’d told his buddy he’d be taking her to the homecoming dance. His friend’s derisive laugh had made him more determined—until his father had gone and ruined everything before he’d even gotten to meet her. He gulped the rest of his drink.

  “Becca and I taught together for a couple of years before I retired. I think both Josh and Connor had her for history at least one year. Which reminds me. Do you know if Connor has made up his mind yet? I think Becca would be perfect.”

  Connor and Becca? He gripped the empty glass. “Isn’t he a little young for her?”

  His grandmother’s lips twitched. “I don’t see what Connor’s age has to do with hiring Becca to be the substitute head teacher at The Kids’ Place, the church day-care center, for the summer. She could use the money.”

  “Nothing.” He studied a small chip in his sandwich plate, most likely courtesy of him or one of his brothers or cousins. Gram had been feeding them sandwiches on the same plates since they were kids. “My mind was elsewhere.”

  The twitch turned into a knowing smile. Except Gram didn’t really know anything about it. Becca Norton was an adolescent dream he had no intention of pursuing as an adult. They had been too different then and were too different now.

  “Would you like a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie?” She stood and turned to the counter behind her chair. “I baked one this morning. I remember it was always your favorite.”

  Jared pursed his lips, irritated that Gram’s smile bothered him.

  “It’s not that big of a decision,” she said making as if to place the pie back on the counter.

  “Sorry, Gram. I’d love a piece of your pie.” He lifted his empty plate toward her, and she cut and placed a large slice on it.

  “Something’s bothering you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I’m fine.” He bit into a forkful of pie. “This is great.”

  “You haven’t said anything about what the lawyer said this morning. I assume it was about Bert Miller’s will.”

  Jared chewed the pie, savoring the combination of sweet and tart. “He left Connor a trust for the church, paid off Josh’s student loans and gave me that land he owned west of the lake.”

  His grandmother’s eyes widened. “Did you know?”

  “Not about Josh and Connor.”

  “But about the land?” she pressed.

  He tapped his fork on the side of the plate before setting it down. “He sent me a letter a couple of months ago.”

  “Oh.”

  “He used to do that, send me a letter every so often.”

  Gram tilted her head and studied him. “Bert always did like you boys.” She hesitated as if weighing her next words. “Said you were the sons he ne
ver had.”

  “He was with Dad that night...you know...he told me in one of his letters.”

  “I know.”

  Jared jerked his head up. From what Bert had said in his letter, he’d gotten the idea that fact wasn’t common knowledge.

  “Your father told your grandfather one night when he’d been drinking.”

  Jared stifled a snort. That could have been about any night.

  “Your grandfather told me your dad and Bert had been best friends since kindergarten. Until then.”

  Gram was the only grandmother he remembered. But she hadn’t married his widowed grandfather until after Jared had been born. She’d always been able to talk about Dad with a lot more detachment than he or either of his brothers could.

  He pushed away from the table. “I should get going.” Now that Gram wanted to talk about Dad, Jared wasn’t sure he did anymore.

  “JJ.” His grandmother reached across the table and touched his hand.

  He pulled away from her touch at the use of his childhood nickname, short for Jared Junior. “Don’t call me that. Please.” He softened his tone.

  “You’re not your father.”

  Jared released his pent up breath. “I know, but I did enough stupid things before I left Paradox Lake, and some after, to make people think I am.”

  “Honey, you weren’t the first or the last teenager in Paradox Lake to be stopped driving while impaired.”

  “I’m the only son of the town drunk who was, after knocking over the Sheriff’s mailbox and running down his front fence.”

  “You paid back Sheriff Norton for all the damages to his property.”

  “After which he strongly recommended I take myself elsewhere as soon as I finished high school.”

  “He was harsher on you than he might have been on someone else. There was bad blood between him and your father. But now you’re back. And I, for one, am glad you are.”