Carolyn Greene - Unexpected Reunion

A Soldier’s Return

For four years, Ruthie Chandler avoided the man who broke their engagement—and her heart. But when her antiques shop mistakenly sells his ailing grandmother’s doll, she comes face-to-face with the man she never forgot. Teaming up with Gray Bristow on this important mission won’t be easy, but Ruthie suspects it’s exactly what the disillusioned veteran needs. The doll is the key to Gray’s family’s past—and possibly his future. And it may be what finally brings the ex-soldier home to faith…and to Ruthie.

Southern Blessings: Three friends find hope and love in Virginia

He owed her an explanation.

He needed to justify—to her as well as to himself—what he had done.

She reached for his hand, then seemed to think better of it. “Tell me, Gray.”

Her tone was kind. Soft. Caring. Infinitely patient.

She tugged her sleeves down to cover her hands.

“Go inside,” he said just as gently. “You’re cold.”

He had heard that when people got frostbite, the thawing hurt more than the actual freezing. All the more reason to stay frozen where he was. If it hurt this bad now, what might his heart feel like if he let the warmth back in?

“I’d rather stay out here with you.”

He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He resisted the temptation to leave his arms around her, but it was as if that brief contact had pried open a long-shut door to something inside him that he felt shouldn’t be examined.

Because if he did, he’d start questioning whether he’d done the right thing four years ago.

Unexpected Reunion

Carolyn Greene

www.millsandboon.co.uk

We went through fire and water,

but you brought us to a place of abundance.

—Psalms 66:12

Why have I found such favor in your eyes…?

—Ruth 2:10

This book is dedicated to the memory of

my dear friend and fellow author Charlotte Lobb (a.k.a. Charlotte Carter), who loved, challenged, and treasured all those who were fortunate enough to know her, whether in person or through her stories.

Acknowledgments

To Day Leclaire, with gratitude and affection,

for 23 years of friendship, brainstorming,

learning, and laughter.

And much appreciation to Yuko Kimura-Koenig

for checking my use of Japanese words.

Any mistakes are all mine.

And thanks to my editor, Melissa Endlich,

for loving my idea for the Southern Blessings series and welcoming me into the Love Inspired fold.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Chapter One

It wouldn’t have been so hard to go through boxes of the elderly Bristows’ belongings if they hadn’t included the Japanese kissing dolls that used to sit on top of the piano where their grandson Gray Bristow had taught her to plunk out “Chopsticks.”

Ruthie Chandler touched the small porcelain faces together so the two pairs of puckered lips met once again. The boy doll’s premolded hair still showed evidence of having been darkened with a black marker to look like Gray. The girl doll’s locks carried the remnants of a red marker and her face sported brown hand-drawn freckles like Ruthie’s. Some gentle cleaning should easily remove the marks—if not the memories—from the smooth white finish. She expected the charming, nostalgic set to sell quickly and move on to a new home where it would foster new memories.

Ruthie set the pieces aside and wished it was as easy to set aside the bittersweet memories they stirred in her.

In the adjoining shop, Savannah must have noticed something on her face or in her demeanor. The pretty blonde moved past the wedding dress on display and joined her, where she peered over her shoulder at the pair of dolls in her hand. She didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t need to.

Her friend had been with her at Wednesday night Bible study the evening she’d received the Dear Jane letter from Gray four years ago, so Savannah must have recognized the shell-shocked expression that apparently had crept back onto her face. Ruthie mindlessly rubbed her thumb against her left ring finger where the white-gold engagement ring used to sit. Back then her world had been filled with hope for a future with the man who’d been the Boaz to her Ruth.

A sentimental romantic, Ruthie had loved the part of scripture where the biblical Ruth asked the kindly Boaz, “Why have I found such favor in your eyes...?” and the happy ending where the couple blessed her mother-in-law, Naomi, with a grandson named Obed. She had imagined the baby she and Gray might have someday—a child with her then-fiancé’s dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, which hinted at his grandmother Naoko’s Japanese heritage. A child he would protect. A child she would teach to savor the memories of its growing-up years. A child they would raise in the church and who would love God.

Unfortunately, her then-fiancé’s emails from Afghanistan had become short and to the point...which she had told herself was for reasons of military security. But that hadn’t explained their platonic tone. The messages she’d received during the three months prior to the breakup could have been written to his sister. Something had happened just before that Thanksgiving...something Gray had alluded to but couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell her.

Savannah had offered to make her wedding dress, one she claimed would be as beautiful as the bride. It would have been beautiful, no doubt. But it hadn’t come to pass.

Her friend’s compliment had made her blush at the time. Not by a long stretch would she call herself beautiful. Not with her fine red hair, freckles and lanky figure. Back then, she had begun to wonder, however, if Gray had become disenchanted with the image in the photo she’d sent him. Now she just tried not to think about it.

“The Bristows must have been busy with their spring cleaning,” Savannah said, and gestured toward the stack of boxes. “You’ll have plenty of nice things to sell at the sidewalk sale. Hopefully, the weather will be warmer than today.” The pretty blonde’s limp always seemed worse during cool weather.

This portion of the historic Carytown district in Richmond, Virginia, was often referred to as the “Mile of Style.” Tucked away in the 1930s-era Cary Court Park & Shop, like a quiet cove in a bustling harbor, a cluster of tiny businesses gathered under the name Abundance. Inside, three stores—Ruthie’s Gleanings, Savannah’s Connecting Threads and Milk & Honey, a café run by Paisley, another former college roommate—shared the same roof and exterior walls and were separated only by decorative waist-high room dividers that encouraged browsers to wander from one shop to the next. Although business was slow this Tuesday afternoon in late April, the upcoming annual sidewalk sale would draw shoppers from all over Virginia with its upscale trendy and vintage offerings.

Ruthie shook away the nostalgic cobwebs that clung to the corners of her heart and turned her attention back to the Bristows. “Ever since Pop brought Sobo home and put her in the hospital bed in their spare room, she’s been directing him on clearing out the clutter in there. I wish she would just rest and focus on healing.”

After Ruthie’s mother had died suddenly in a work-related accident eleven years ago and she’d had no place to go, Naoko Bristow had taken her in and gained legal guardianship for her final two years of high school. But they hadn’t stopped there. Though she’d known them only from church, they had treated her as if she were their own flesh-and-blood granddaughter, insisting she call them by their grandparent names: Sobo, the Japanese word for grandmother, and Pop, a Southern endearment for grandfather. The elderly pair had even sent her off to college and set her up in their Fan District rental house with two roommates. An added bonus to gaining these adoring grandparents had been meeting and falling in love with their grandson.