Jillian Hart - Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl

“My Jeep broke down and stranded me.”

“No!” The nurse looked stricken. “And on a night like this. Haven’t seen a storm as bad as this in some time. Was that Matthew Sheridan’s truck I saw driving away?”

“He took pity on me and gave me a ride.”

“Matthew’s a good man. Shame about his wife, though. Let’s get you inside and out of those wet clothes, shall we? My name’s Roberta—” She made a move to grab the carry-on bag.

Hope managed to get there first, hauling all three pieces into the living room. The nurse had enough work to do without waiting on Hope, too.

“Dear, you’re soaked clear through to the skin,” Roberta fussed. “Let me draw a bath for you—”

“Thank you, but no.” Only one thing—one person—mattered. “How’s Nanna?”

“She’s been having trouble sleeping.”

“Because she was waiting up for me? I called her after supper and told her not to—”

“Why, she can’t wait to see you. You and your brother are the only real family she has left.” Roberta bustled into the kitchen, flipping on lights as she went. “As I see it, she’s got the right to worry about you traveling all the way from Italy on your own. And besides, it’s given her something else to think about besides the pain.”

Hope’s stomach fluttered. She hated the thought of her sweet Nanna suffering. “Is she awake?”

“I’m sure she is. Go on up. Do you want to take this to her?”

Hope took the prepared tea tray, thanking the nurse who’d gone to the trouble, and headed upstairs. She knew each step and knew which stair creaked. Memories flooded back, filling her heart, warming her from the inside out.

Some memories weren’t filled with hurt. Like the year she’d spent with Nanna when her parents were divorcing.

As she climbed into the second story, the smell of dried roses, lavender and honeysuckle tickled her nose, just as it had so many years ago.

“Hope? Is that you?” Nanna’s voice trilled like a morning lark, joyful and filled with melody. “Heavens, I’ve worried about you, child. Do you know what time it is?”

“I told you not to expect me until morning.” Hope breezed into the room, unchanged from memory with the lace curtains shimmering like new ivory at the windows, the antiques polished to a shine and the wedding ring quilt draped across the carved, four-poster bed. Just like always.

But the woman beneath the covers was fragile and old, changed from the sprightly grandmother Hope remembered.

Deep affection welled in her heart, and she set the silver tray on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. “Nanna, it’s good to see you.”

“Come give me a hug.”

Hope bent at the waist, lightly folding her arms around the frail woman. Nanna felt delicate and not tough and robust like she’d been at Christmas, less than four months ago. “You smell like honeysuckle.”

“One of my favorites. You should have seen last summer’s garden! Goodness, the sachets and things Helen and I made. We were busy bees. Why, we had the entire basement filled from floor to rafter with drying flowers.” Nanna’s eyes warmed with the happy memory, and she patted the bed beside her. “Dear heart, it’s good to see you, but you’re thinner.”

“Been busy.” Hope sat on the edge of the mattress.

“Too busy to eat? You work too much. What is it with young girls these days? You should eat, enjoy life, indulge a little.”

“Is that what you do, Nanna?”

“Why, it’s one of the secrets to a happy life.” Trouble twinkled in dark eyes. “I saw your last book. It’s absolutely beautiful. Not everyone has the God given talent to take pictures the way you do.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Hope watched her grandmother’s weathered hands lift the hardcover book from the nightstand. “I worked hard on it.”

“Love always shows.” Nanna’s fingers traced her name on the cover, in gold. “It’s good work that you do, using your pictures to remind us all the beauty God gives us in each and every day. But work isn’t everything in life, remember that.”

“You’ve told me that about a billion times.” Trying to avoid a well-worn subject, Hope pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s cheek. “You get your rest. We have all tomorrow to talk.”

“And what a fine day it will be because you’ve come home.” Nanna returned the kiss. Her fingers held tight and would not let go. “I’ve missed my Hope.”

“Not half as much as I’ve missed you.” A love so sharp it hurt edged into her heart. Hope didn’t move away, not until after Grandmother sipped her chamomile tea, whispered her prayers and closed her eyes. Not until sleep claimed Nanna and she was lost in dreams of happier times.

Hope sat in the dark for a long while and watched Nanna sleep. The lightning returned. Rain beat against the window and drummed on the roof, but they were safe from the storm and never alone.

Hope Ashton. Matthew couldn’t get her out of his mind. Not when he’d gone to sleep and not now that the first pink light of morning was teasing the darkness from the sky.

He hadn’t recognized her at first glance. She’d softened, grown taller, changed from girl to woman. But that graceful elegance was still there in the fall of her dark hair, in the rich timbre of her alto voice and in every lithe, careful movement she made.

The phone rang, and he turned from the kitchen sink, nearly tripping over a little boy who wasn’t quite as tall as his knee. “Whoa, there, Josh. Look where you’re going.”

The little boy tilted his head all the way back. “Goin’ to Gramma’s?”

“Almost.” He wove around an identical little boy. “Ian, stop eyeing the cookie jar.”

“I still hungry, Daddy.”

“Hungry? You ate four whole pancakes.” He ruffled the boy’s dark hair and intentionally turned him away from the counter as the phone continued to ring.

He dodged another identical little boy and snatched up the receiver.

“Matthew? I got your message.” It was Zach from the garage. “Got the belt you asked for right here. What happened? That truck of yours leave you stranded?”

“You wish.”

“Hey, I’m thinking of my profits,” the only mechanic in town teased.

“Nothing like that. I came across Hope Ashton last night, broke down in the middle of that storm. You remember her, don’t you?”

There was a moment of silence, then Zach gasped. “Tall, slender, pretty. Nora’s granddaughter. Sure, I remember. Is she back in town? Why don’t I run the belt out to the Greenley place—”

“Her Jeep’s broken down on the highway south of town.”

“Then I’ll warm up the tow truck and bring it in.”

“You can’t miss it. Bright red, brand-new model about four miles out.” Matthew felt his stomach tighten, as if he didn’t like the idea of Zach giving Hope a hand and he couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was his conscience.

Sure, the woman troubled him, stirred up all sorts of emotions. He knew he was out of her league—which wasn’t why he wanted to help. It didn’t sit right backing away now. He liked to see things to the end.

Matthew heard silence and peeked around the doorway into the kitchen. “Ian, stay away from the counter. Go put on your shoes like your brothers.”

The little urchin hesitated, tossed him an innocent grin, then dashed away to join his brothers at the table. Matthew headed down the center hallway and to the front door, careful to keep an eye and an ear on his sons.

“Hope Ashton, huh?” Zach laughed at that. “It’ll be something to see her again. I bet she’s still a knockout.”

“Yep.” She was pretty, all right. Model-good looks but there was a girl-next-door freshness to her. A freshness he didn’t remember seeing in the unhappy rich girl he’d gone to school with.