by Delia Latham
Sweet Scent of
Delia Latham
~ Table of Contents ~
~ Key Verse ~
Dear Reader
~ Chapter 1 ~
~ Chapter 2 ~
~ Chapter 3 ~
~ Chapter 4 ~
~ Chapter 5 ~
~ Chapter 6 ~
~ Chapter 7 ~
~ Chapter 8 ~
~ Chapter 9 ~
~ Chapter 10 ~
~ Chapter 11 ~
~ Chapter 12 ~
~ Chapter 13 ~
~ Chapter 14 ~
~ Chapter 15 ~
~ Chapter 16 ~
~ One Harvest Knight ~
~About Delia Latham~
~ More Titles by Delia Latham ~
SWEET SCENT OF FORGIVENESS
COPYRIGHT 2020
DELIA LATHAM
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This book is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Warning: No part of this book may be copied, scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means without the written permission of the author. Unauthorized duplication and/or distribution is illegal. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture references are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version ®, NIV ®, Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Cover Art by Heaven’s Touch Designs, Delia Latham
Published by Heaven’s Touch Books
First Edition, 2020
Published in the United States of America
Contact information:
Heaven’s Touch Books
[email protected]
~ Key Verse ~
But I say to you, love your enemies,
bless those who curse you,
do good to those who hate you,
and pray for those who spitefully use you
and persecute you.
~Matthew 5:44 (NIV)~
~ Dedication ~
To someone who means the world to me…
a beautiful, Christ-filled woman who graciously
granted me permission to borrow bits and
pieces of her life to create this fictional tale,
but chose to remain anonymous.
You know who you are.
You know I love you like a sister.
Thank you for baring your heart to me…
I know that isn’t something you do readily,
and I’m honored and humbled that you’d
trust me with your story.
You are an inspiration
and a blessing in my life!
I’m delighted to be included in the author line-up for The Potter’s House series. I pray that you enjoy and are blessed in some way by every book in the series. All of the Potter’s House books share a common theme: Hope, Redemption and Second Chances. Since every book stands alone, they can be read in any order. Find the entire collection here.
Book 1: The Hope We Share by Juliette Duncan
Book 2: Beyond the Deep by Kristen M. Fraser
Book 3: Honor’s Reward by Mary Manners
Book 4: Hands of Grace by Brenda S. Anderson
Book 5: Always You by Jennifer Rodewald
Book 6: Her Cowboy Forever by Dora Hiers
Book 7: Changed Somehow by Chloe Flanagan
Book 8: Sweet Scent of Forgiveness by Delia Latham
Books 9-24: Coming Soon
Dear Reader,
Forgiving others for hurtful behavior or wrongdoing isn’t always easy. Extending that same pardon to ourselves for weaknesses, faults and failures (real or perceived) is even more difficult. Perhaps the hardest tests of our ability to let go of hurt, pain and betrayal are those underlying emotions we haven’t truly allowed ourselves to examine. For instance, resentment and unforgiveness can lie unnoticed and unacknowledged until something brings it boiling to the surface like hot lava. This destructive spirit burns trouble into hearts, singes souls with bitterness, and corrupts minds with vengeful thoughts.
It’s such a joy to know that if we truly allow Christ to fill all the spaces in our hearts, souls and minds, an unforgiving spirit has no place to dwell. The Savior moves in and hangs a sign on the door: No Vacancy. Permanently Occupied by Jesus Christ.
In Sweet Scent of Forgiveness, Norah has much to forgive for events in her past. She is unaware that she carries within her heart latent seeds of festering bitterness, until someone from yesterday shows up in her world of today. That’s when God reveals, in a rapid-release stream of revelation, her own less-than-admirable part in those circumstances. Only then can she begin to pardon herself and others.
Are you caught in a swirling eddy of blame, bitterness and resentment? Forgiveness will calm the turbulence, even if that means granting pardon to yourself. Can’t let go of it alone? Let God fill that dark corner of your heart. He’s the Master of Forgiveness, and the mightiest of warriors. As a sweet child in this story states so simply, “Jesus always wins.” Let Him win this one for you. He waits only to hear your cry for help.
Many, many blessings to you, dear readers!
Delia
~ About the Book ~
A life-changing message lies within the petals of a rose…
Norah Bradley has a delightful seven-year-old son, owns a thriving nursery business in the Sierra Blanca Mountains of New Mexico, and adores both. She’s past the horrors of earlier years and life is good.
Then Marcus Corman walks into her nursery looking for a couple of special rose bushes. For the first time since she met her late husband, Norah finds herself drawn to a man. Even so, she’s not ready to trust love again.
Neither is Marcus. His ex-wife abandoned him and their infant daughter years ago. Why bring another possible source of pain into little Juliet’s life?
Still, Norah and Marcus find themselves thrust together when their children meet and become fast friends. But as their attraction becomes undeniable, a dark shadow from Norah's past finds her and her son. Will Marcus turn away when all is revealed?
Within the petals of a rose lies a profound message. Will they find it in time to save Norah's life and open the door to love?
~ Chapter 1 ~
N
ORAH PERLMAN STEPPED OFF THE bus sore, tired, scared and hungry. Other than an apple she purchased during a one-hour stop in Las Cruces, she’d eaten nothing all day. Her body’s reaction was an uncharacteristic lack of strength and increasing lightheadedness.
She stood on the sidewalk and looked both ways down the road but couldn’t make out much at nine o’clock in the evening. What little she could see painted Ruidoso, New Mexico as yet another example of small-town USA. Then again, the bus station most likely wasn’t located on the main drag. Judging the place at first rather gloomy glance would be unfair.
Since she had no idea where she was going, one direction seemed as good as another. She pointed her nose the same way the bus had been headed when it stopped.
Given her current state of physical weakness, it was all she could do to drag her small suitcase. Good thing it had wheels—she wasn’t sure she could’ve carried it. She didn’t own much in this world, but every item was stuffed into the battered luggage. Finding a place to eat was a priority if she didn’t want to pass out on this dismal, dark street on her first day in town.
Perhaps a quarter mile down the road, a diner came into view, separated fro
m the road by a parking lot that seemed too large for the mid-sized restaurant. Bright lights gleamed behind large plate-glass windows. Several cars in the parking slots indicated customers still inside. Norah picked up her pace. Please, please, don’t flip the sign to “closed” before I get there.
The door opened when she gave it a tug, and overwhelming relief nearly sent her to her knees. She swallowed a burst of emotion, determined not to cry. Yes, she was frightened of what her future might hold. Exhaustion from the long, dreary, uncomfortable ride dragged her shoulders down, along with her spirits. But leaving Echo City, Arizona and traveling over twelve hours on a bus to a place she’d never been before and knew nothing about–—that was her decision. She refused to start off this new life by falling apart.
She spotted an empty table in a back corner, sank onto one of two black chairs and buried her head in her hands. No one sat nearby, which gave her a moment to pull herself together. But only a moment.
“Evenin’, sweetie.”
A menu appeared on the table. She looked up into a pair of bright green eyes and a wide, friendly smile. “You look about to drop.” The waitress indicated the suitcase beside Norah’s chair. “Been on a long ride today?”
She nodded. “Yes. Twelve hours on the bus.”
“You must be exhausted.” The sympathetic voice had Norah blinking hot tears. Again. What was wrong with her? She’d never been weepy. “Hungry, too—or my name isn’t Shay Tileston—and I happen to know it is.” The woman grinned and winked. “I’ll be back in a flash, hon. You decide what you want, and I’ll get it out here before you can say ‘Ruidoso, New Mexico.’” She patted Norah’s shoulder and shot off across the room. A vibrant red ponytail swung against her back in a wild pendulum, and for the first time all day, Norah smiled.
Within a few minutes, one of the best French dip sandwiches she’d ever tasted rested on a plain white plate in front of her. She dug in with gusto, and almost every crumb had disappeared by the time Shay slid into the seat across from her and heaved an exaggerated sigh.
“We’ve been crazy busy today, with not enough slow moments to count. Lost a waitress yesterday—the girl up and walked out the door with nary a warnin’. To make it worse, she took one of our chef’s assistants with her.” A derisive eyeroll effectively expressed what she thought of that kind of behavior. “Needless to say, today’s been a rat race.” The redhead grinned and, once again, pointed her chin at Norah’s suitcase. “Looks like you’re plannin’ to stay awhile. I don’t suppose you’ll be lookin’ for work?”
Norah nearly choked. She grabbed her soda, washed down the last bite of that fabulous sandwich, and then nodded as she wiped her chin. “Yes, ma’am. Yes! I desperately need a job.”
“Thought that might be the case. First, though…what’s your name, hon?”
“Norah Perlman.” She had no intention of keeping the name of the man she’d called ‘husband’ for barely three weeks.
“Nice meetin’ ya. Be straight with me now, Norah Perlman. You a runaway?”
“No, ma’am. Just trying to get a new start.”
The woman gave a slow nod, her green eyes thoughtful. “You’re awful young but I got a good feelin’ about you. Maybe you’ll tell me more when you know me better. You ever waited tables?”
“Only for about a month. But I enjoyed it. A lot. And my boss liked me.”
“Well, I think that’ll be enough. My boss is desperate. If you’re serious, I’ll get Hoss out here to have a chat. If I was a bettin’ woman—which I’m not, by the way—I’d be willing to wager you could start tomorrow mornin’…if you want to.”
“I do. Please.”
Shay reached across the table and patted her hand, then picked up her plate. “Relax, honey. Everything’s gonna be all right. Give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She returned a few minutes later, accompanied by a man about the size of a small mountain. He stood well over six feet, with a girth that seemed set on matching his height. This gigantic dude must be Hoss, the boss.
Norah bit back a giggle born of utter exhaustion and offered a shaky smile instead.
“Sweetie, this is Hoss. He owns the place.” Shay smiled and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Hoss, Norah is new in town and lookin’ for a job. Packed in that little suitcase of hers is about a month’s experience waitin’ tables. I’d say the good Lord brought this little gal to the right place at the right time, wouldn’t you?”
Hoss smiled, and Norah’s nervousness dissipated a bit. He was big and burly, but the man possessed a smile so sweet it almost made her teeth ache. Nor did his voice boom, as she half expected. Instead, he spoke soft and low, an innate gentleness warming his tone. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Norah. May I join you for a moment?”
She nodded, still a little too shaky for speech, after all.
Shay left them alone, and Hoss started by simply talking. He told her about the restaurant—The Ponderosa Kitchen, in deference to his name and its link to a popular old television western “which I’m sure you don’t even remember,” he told Norah. He’d purchased the diner a decade ago, using every cent he’d managed to save in his adult life. This place was his dream, and God had allowed him to make it a reality. Now, he tried to help others whose lives seemed to be in limbo.
On Sundays, the restaurant was closed to the public and open to the homeless, the heartsick, the lonely and lost.
“The price of their free meal is allowing me to read to them from the Bible and share the story of salvation.” He half-grinned. “Sometimes I fill the role of counselor, as well. I’m not licensed. The only degree I can claim is the one the good Lord gave me.” Hoss shrugged massive shoulders. “Which is great. It’s good to know I’m offering advice from the best Counselor ever known to man. But still, I’m working on a degree the legal system will consider real. I sure don’t want to be shut down for offering guidance they think might hurt or hinder these precious people.”
His big head tilted to one side and he fixed Norah under a gently searching gaze. “People a little like you, Miss Norah,” he said quietly. “I won’t ask you to tell me your story unless and until you’d like to. That’ll be your decision to make. But you have no choice at all about the fact that I’ll be praying for you.”
Norah’s nod was the only response she could manage around the boulder-sized knot in her throat.
Hoss studied her face for a few intense seconds that seemed like forever. Then he nodded. “If you can start in the morning, Miss Norah, the job is yours.”
She found her voice in a hurry. “I’ll start right now if you want me to.”
Hoss chuckled. “I like the way you think, little one, but we’re closing in a few minutes, and you look plumb tuckered out. Tomorrow’ll be fine. Be here at seven.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hoss!” Norah blubbered. She couldn’t stop herself. “Thank you so much!”
He lumbered to his feet and laid a plate-sized hand on her shoulder. “Just Hoss. And you’re welcome. Truth is, I need a waitress in the worst way, so thank you for stopping in and solving that problem for me.”
She smiled through a mist of grateful tears. “I’ll be here at seven, and I promise you won’t be sorry.”
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. “You know, I have a feeling you’re right about that. See you in the morning, Miss Norah.”
He left, and she wilted against the back of her chair.
“You okay, hon?” Shay’s quiet voice spoke a measure of calm into the moment.
“I think so.” Her attempt at laughter sounded more weepy than happy. “Shay, I—I don’t know how to thank you. Getting a job when I’m barely off the bus…it’s like a miracle or something.”
“Maybe it is. You know, sweetie, they do happen.” Her gaze traveled Norah’s face as if she could read her whole life’s story there. “I’m glad I thought to mention it.”
Norah lowered her gaze. She didn’t want this kind woman to know how little she believed in mi
racles. And yet…she had a job, didn’t she? Thirty minutes off the bus, and she was employed—and she hadn’t even asked if they were hiring.
Shay didn’t appear to notice her slight withdrawal.
“Just so you know, it gets mighty busy in here sometimes. You’ll work hard, but we have a lot of really wonderful customers.” She rolled her eyes and offered a wry grin. “And a few truly terrible ones, but you learn to deal with ’em. And Hoss…well, you won’t find a better boss anywhere.”
“I like him already.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s a likable man. Now let’s get personal.” Shay captured Norah’s gaze. “Where you sleepin’ tonight, new girl?”
Norah caught her breath. She wasn’t sure she had enough money to rent a room, even for one night. And what if her tips weren’t enough tomorrow to pay for another one? What would she do…stretch out on a park bench? Maybe there wasn’t a park in town, or even a bench. What then?
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I—I don’t know.”
Shay stood and reached out to touch Norah’s hand. “Alrighty then, you sit right here while I help Hoss close this place, and then you’re coming with me. I got somethin’ to show you.”
* * * *
Norah spun in a slow circle.
A loveseat, a comfy-looking armchair, and a table topped by a lamp with a pretty, fringed shade gave the stamp-sized living room a homey atmosphere. The space opened into a tiny kitchen. Beyond that, a door led into a bedroom barely large enough to hold a twin bed, a small dresser, and a bedside table. Not fancy, but Norah saw a clean, bright, cheery, perfect haven.
“When my husband and I bought our house, this was an ugly, rundown shed in the backyard,” Shay told her. “Gary decided it would make a great mother-in-law unit, in case either of our parents ever need it.” She chuckled. “As far as we know, we’re a long way from that, but my Gary is nothin’ if not a planner. He whipped this little place into shape, and here it sits—empty and not doin’ anybody any good. Why don’t you stay here for a while?”