Lost & Found Love

by Laura Browning

  Cover Copy

  Welcome to Mountain Meadow, Virginia, where homecomings lead to happily ever after…

  Tabitha MacVie has come to Mountain Meadow to meet the sister she never knew, and find the family she longs for. What she discovers is a close-knit community determined to close ranks against the new art teacher, especially once she catches the eye of the town’s most eligible bachelor. Tabby tries hard to keep Joe Taylor at a distance. But staying away from the handsome preacher isn’t easy once he opens his arms to her….

  Tabby is the answer to Joe’s prayers. Too bad the spirited beauty believes she doesn’t belong in Mountain Meadow—or with him. Still, Joe can’t resist offering her shelter against the local gossips, or giving her a strong shoulder to lean on when her family hopes are dashed. And when Tabby’s life is suddenly on the line, Joe will do anything to save the woman who stole his heart.

  Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Books by Laura Browning

  Winning Heart

  Mountain Meadow Homecomings

  Special Deliver, Book One

  Lost & Found Love, Book Two

  The Barlow-Barretts: An American Dynasty

  Bittersweet, Book One

  Balancing Act, Book Two

  Remember Me, Book Three

  Broken Heart, Book Four

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Lost & Found Love

  A Mountain Meadow Homecomings Novel

  Laura Browning

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Copyright

  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2015 by Laura Browning

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund- raising, and educational or institutional use.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager:

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  LYRICAL PRESS Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  First Electronic Edition: February 2016

  eISBN-13: 978-1-60183-572-7

  eISBN-10: 1-60183-572-8

  First Print Edition: February 2016

  ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-574-1

  ISBN-10: 1-60183-574-4

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  During the edits on this manuscript, life changed for me. My eldest brother, John, passed away quite suddenly. He was the first of the four kids in our family, but John was so much more.

  He was my hero. The big brother, who was there to help when I was hurt or sick. He was my protector when it came to getting picked on by the sibling closest to me in age. He was left-handed, like me. I don’t know if I ever thanked him for that hand-me-down baseball glove, but it sure made life easier.

  He sat next to me when Jaws first came out, putting up with my clawing him in the arm with my fingernails. Then the next day he went swimming in the ocean with me.

  He gave me my first ride on a motorcycle. Later on, he encouraged my interest in bicycling, and even slowed down enough to take rides with me. It didn’t matter that he was a competitive cyclist and I just liked to ride. He was willing to take the time to share that interest with me.

  He served his country in the Navy. He was loyal, and responsible, yet he still knew how to have fun. He had a wicked sense of humor and a laugh that could make everyone smile. He loved to travel, but he also loved coming home again.

  In a story where finding family is so important, it only makes sense to dedicate it to a man who knew the true value of family. This happily ever after is for you, John.

  Chapter 1

  For a girl who’d grown up in a rundown millhouse, what Tabby stood in front of now was a dream. Best of all, it was hers. The house was a unique blend of colors. A rich, rusty red exterior with creamy yellow shutters and lacy wood trim, which betrayed its Victorian origins. The rounded left front, with its big bay windows on the first and second floors, reminded Tabby of the tower on a castle. The third floor was tucked under a steeply pitched roof, and at ground level, a wide, covered veranda wrapped around the front and side. Tabby gazed at it with a smile. It was exactly like the picture the real estate agent had sent her. Good thing. She’d bought it, sight unseen, in an Internet auction.

  The purchase was a win-win situation for Tabby and the former owner. The elderly woman had taken the proceeds and moved into the Mountain Meadow Retirement Community. She was free from caring for such a huge home, and Tabby had gotten a great deal.

  With her cat carrier in her left hand, Tabby unlocked the heavy front door and wandered inside. Her artist’s eye quickly circled the high-ceilinged front hall, the living room on one side, and the dining room on the other. The house had possibilities. Even the furnishings would work with a colorful throw here and a few accent pillows there. Since the previous owner had little use in her new patio home for most of the furniture, she had thrown what she didn’t need into the deal.

  At a sound behind her, Tabby turned. A leggy boy with long, dark brown hair shifted from foot to foot. His grin alone was enough to light up the room, even without the sunshine streaming through the lacy curtains.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “My one-man welcoming committee?”

  “Tyler Morgan. I do odd jobs at Tarpley’s…uh…Mountain Meadow General Store, but most folks around here call it Tarpley’s. They—that’s Mr. and Mrs. Tarpley—sent me over with a box of groceries for you. Said it should get you started till you have a chance to stop in.”

  Tabby glanced from the box to the boy with his warm brown eyes. Was this place for real? She’d grown up around Asheville, North Carolina where folks were friendly, but not like this.

  “Thanks, Tyler. That was thoughtful of you and the…Tarpleys was it?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled with a trace of shyness. “You’re Miss MacVie, aren’t you? The new art teacher?”

  Tabby nodded. It seemed a quiet, unobtrusive arrival was out of the question. Another difference to keep in mind about such a small community. Someone new around here was news. Not exactly what she wanted to be. “Yes.”

  “Cool.” He grinned, the shyness disappearing. “I like art way better than math and science, but not as good as English.”

  Tabby laughed. “Maybe I can change your mind.”

  “What’s in the pet carrier?” He craned his neck to see.

  Tabby held it so he could. “My cat. Katie Scarlett…Katie for short.”

  Tyler’s eyes rounded, and he laughed. “She looks like you—black hair and gold eyes too. Can I take the groceries back to the kitchen for you?”

  While doing her student teaching, Tabby had gotten used to the lightning fast conversational changes children alwa
ys seemed to make.

  “If you don’t mind. You caught me just walking in for the first time.” She followed him, since he already seemed to know his way around the house. If all her welcomes were this warm, then the task her mother had given her should be easy. Tabby sucked in a deep, cleansing breath of relief.

  They put the groceries away. Tyler pointed to the kitchen door that led out to the back corner of the veranda. “It will be easier to unload your car and come in this door. You can go up the back stairs. I can help.”

  “That’s mighty nice. Thank you.”

  “You sure don’t have much stuff,” he commented as he looked at her open trunk.

  Tabby laughed again, finding it so much easier to relax here. “I just got out of college, so no, I don’t. Just my clothes, my bike, and my art supplies.” As Tyler made a move to grab a stack of canvases, Tabby stopped him with a smile and a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get those. You carry my case there with my paints and brushes. We’ll take everything to the top floor.”

  After they’d unloaded, she opened her wallet, but Tyler shook his head. “Holly and Jake, my sister and her husband, would kill me if I took money for being neighborly.”

  Tabby’s eyes widened. This place couldn’t be for real. She felt like she’d walked into The Andy Griffith Show with Tyler as a cuter, twenty-first century version of Opie. “Well thanks then, Tyler. I guess I’ll see you in a week, or sooner.”

  With a wave, the boy sprinted out the door and down the walk, no doubt on his way to tell everyone, including the mysterious Tarpleys, that he had actually met the new art teacher. Tabby smiled. She could get to like this town if Tyler and the Tarpleys were any example of what to expect. If the one welcome she really wanted was just as warm, Tabby could easily call Mountain Meadow home.

  * * * *

  Joe studied the two sulky combatants as they faced him from the other side of his desk. As Pastor Joe, head of the town’s largest Baptist church, he had mediated many disagreements. This one between Hannah Hairston and Charlie Gardner was just the latest in a long line. The two had been at each other since the Christmas pageant last year when Charlie had knocked Hannah’s halo off. The latest problem was a dispute over glue and scissors in the first grade vacation bible school group. The teenager in charge of the class called Joe in for help when it looked as if the problem was escalating.

  “Let me see if I understand this. Charlie, you want the glue, and Hannah won’t give it to you… And Hannah, you want the scissors, and Charlie won’t give those to you. Is that correct?”

  They both nodded. Joe worked hard to keep the smile off his face.

  “Well, you give me the scissors, Charlie, and Hannah, you give me the glue.” They dutifully handed them over. “I’ll give the glue to Charlie and give Hannah the scissors. Does everyone have what they want now?”

  Charlie nodded, and Hannah did, too, but then she asked suspiciously, “What if I want the glue back, Pastor Joe?”

  Joe looked at Molly Saunders and said gently, “Well then you give it to Molly, and she will help you exchange it. How about that?”

  Molly’s look of gratitude also revealed a bit of the crush he feared she still harbored. “Thanks, Pastor Joe.”

  “No problem, Molly.”

  It was opening day of a week’s worth of vacation bible school. Joe recruited his high school students to assist with the younger kids during the day, and in the evenings, he met with the teenagers. Joe watched Molly leave with the two children in tow. He loved his job, and he loved the area, but lately discontent nagged him. It had started last Christmas right after the ceasefire between the Presbyterian and Baptist church ladies.

  He’d watched Jake, the town’s police chief, and Holly Allred settle into their marriage, and seen the love and trust restored to Evan Richardson and Jenny Owens, one of the rural area’s few doctors. The two couples had forged strong, loving relationships, even marrying in a double ceremony. The wedding had been short notice, but the Allreds had been out in force. Jenny had no family, and Evan was alienated from his. Still, it had been a joyous affair.

  What Joe suffered now, he tried to reassure himself, was not so much a crisis in faith as simple loneliness. Sure he had parishioners all around him. In fact, he spent a lot of time surrounded by people—just not someone with whom he could share his feelings or concerns.

  It was hard enough as a single man in a community like Mountain Meadow. It was almost impossible when you were also the minister of the Baptist church. Women, he found, fell into two categories when it came to ministers. They either turned tail as fast as they could, or they instantly envisioned remodeling the parsonage. It didn’t matter that all he might want was company for dinner and a movie. Joe might be a man of God, but he was still a man. He’d like to be able to enjoy the company of an attractive woman once in a while without her obsessing over how the parsonage would look with a woman’s touch or, conversely, trying to end the evening early.

  Lately, he’d even wondered if he’d made a mistake choosing the path he had. Joe closed his eyes for a moment. A crisis of confidence wasn’t what he needed right now. He’d grown up in a small community like this, farther west, and the path he’d chosen as a kid and a teen had been anything but holy. Seeing his best friend killed in a knife fight had been a wake-up call. No, he hadn’t chosen wrong. It just wasn’t always an easy or a comfortable choice. Having someone he could talk to would help. His monthly clandestine card games with Evan, Jake, and Sam provided some outlet, but not the intimacy he craved.

  The last of the teens left, and Joe locked the church before walking through the parking lot and across to the backyard of the parsonage. In the house next door, a light on the third floor glowed, but otherwise, the house was dark and nearly as empty looking as it had been the past few months. He jumped slightly as a dark shadow dashed back toward the house and up onto the veranda railing. Two glowing eyes glared at him. A cat?

  Joe didn’t have anything against cats, but he definitely did not want paw prints all over his prized possession, a vintage, cherry-red Mustang convertible. He’d gotten it his first year in college and spent years restoring it to mint condition. He didn’t need to drive it often with work right beyond his backyard, but he enjoyed it this time of year for the odd afternoon drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

  That was one of the attractions of living in Mountain Meadow, one he couldn’t lightly dismiss. He knew the car raised the eyebrows of a few of his more conservative flock, but this was one area where he wouldn’t compromise. It was a way to relax, one of his few vices other than the odd poker game. He grinned.

  As he walked by, he saw the car was still pristine, and he glanced back at the veranda railing, but the cat was gone. He spotted a bike leaning against the wall of the house. He’d heard the rumor his neighbor was the new art teacher, and he’d already half formed a picture of a motherly woman with paint stained fingers and Birkenstocks. The bike didn’t quite fit that image. It screamed serious bicyclist. He might have to readjust his mental image of his new neighbor.

  Before he settled down to work on his sermon, Joe reached for his guitar. Music had always been an important outlet for him. Sure, being able to sing was a tremendous bonus for the guy who had to stand up in front of a congregation, but Joe loved classical and pop music too. So that’s what he launched into from the privacy of his own living room. With the evening breeze fluttering the curtains at the windows, it was the perfect way to spend the bit of free time he allowed himself.

  He heard a window slam next door. The light in the neighbor’s third floor window was still burning, but the window had been firmly shut. Had he disturbed her with his singing? They would have an uneasy relationship if that were the case because Joe not only loved to sing, he loved to listen to music. Still he tried to be thoughtful. That was part of who he was. The angry, defiant teen had disappeared long ago.

  He closed his own windows on that side of the house before t
urning up his stereo while he made a snack. With plate and glass in hand, he went to his study to work on his schedule for the week. Even with the addition of vacation bible school, he still needed to fit in the visits he made to the nursing homes and members of his congregation who were unable to get out and about much. And there was a sermon still to write.

  He started on the sermon first. Joe found that once he had an idea the words flowed. He thought about Hannah and Charlie. The two children had wanted to share, but had simply been unable to move past their differences until they were shown how. He smiled and began to write.

  When he stretched and stood up a couple hours later, he noticed the house next door was dark. He wondered again about his new neighbor. Of course he knew she was the new art teacher for the Mountain Meadow Public Schools. How could he not? It was a small town where everyone seemed to know everything. His parishioners also enjoyed sharing whatever news they had.

  What bothered Joe was the comments weren’t always well-intentioned, or didn’t seem to be.

  The town’s Facebook page had several comments about the fact that the new teacher had put a sizable down payment on the house next door, and they were already wondering how a new teacher could afford that. Joe shook his head. Facebook, phones, or face-to-face—Mountain Meadow loved to gossip.

  If this teacher was like the last few new teachers to move here, she was nearing retirement and simply seeking a place where she could work for a few years until she could draw a second pension after working to retirement age in a neighboring state. Joe contented himself with his picture of a kindly, matronly woman who would have kids working on papier-mâché and macramé, maybe some clay projects for the older kids. He had modified his vision somewhat to make her lean and athletic after getting a glimpse of the bike, but in his imagination she still had Birkenstocks. He smiled as he turned the lights off and went to bed.