Arlene James - His Ideal Match

Taming The Wanderer’s Heart

Carissa Hopper’s always been strong and self-sufficient. So when the single mom of three finds herself in need, accepting help from the rugged and adventurous Phillip Chatam isn’t easy. She knows he’s the kind of man she should stay far away from. Still, when his aunts offer her lodging at Chatam House, where Phillip also resides, Carissa can’t refuse. Always on the move, Phillip has no interest in settling down. But as he gets to know Carissa’s adorable children—and falls for their mother—he realizes that his biggest adventure will be convincing Carissa to let him be a part of her future.

Chatam House: Where three matchmaking aunts bring faith and love to life.

“Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. They were so tired.”

“They had a wonderful day, and so did I.”

“I’m glad.”

Phillip smiled down at her, and Carissa stepped closer. She couldn’t help herself. A warm feeling washed over her, and she felt certain that he would kiss her. His copper gaze skimmed her face. Her breath caught in anticipation. But then he turned the doorknob.

“If, um, you should change your mind about attending church with the aunties and me on Sunday…”

Disappointment dealt her a crushing blow, but she managed to keep her composure. “I’ve already told Uncle Chester and Aunt Hilda we’ll be going with them.”

“All right, then.”

“About Saturday night, though…”

“Oh, with my parents here and everything… I’ll try, though. Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

He slipped out, closing the door behind him. Carissa tried very hard not to cry. She kept telling herself it was for the best. He wasn’t the man for her. No good could come from putting herself in Phillip Chatam’s way. But she didn’t have to be happy about it, did she?

ARLENE JAMES

says, “Camp meetings, mission work and church attendance permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity He has blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic it still feels like courtship!”

After thirty-three years in Texas, Arlene James now resides in Bella Vista, Arkansas, with her beloved husband. Even after seventy-five novels, her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade. She loves to hear from readers, and can be reached via her website, www.arlenejames.com.

His Ideal Match

Arlene James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.

—Ecclesiastes 4:9–10

For Joseph, who has given this mom plenty of

gray hair but much, much delight.

Pride is a sin to which my sons continually tempt me.

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

The wrought iron gate stood ajar, so Phillip Chatam slipped into the leafy courtyard of the Downtown Bible Church of Buffalo Creek, Texas. Here, landscape lighting held back the gathering gloom of this first Thursday evening of June. Behind him rose the sanctuary in all its stylized Spanish glory. Ahead of him, a walkway wound through the trees and flower beds. It was a peaceful place, but had he not promised his aunts—the renowned seventy-five-year-old triplets of Chatam House—that he would attend tonight’s grief support meeting, he would not be here.

When his aunts had politely but firmly insisted that he attend this meeting, he could have told them that they were mistaken in their assumption that grief and fear had driven him away from his occupation of the past several years and into this state of ennui, where he had languished for the past five weeks. Of course, he grieved the deaths of his friends and coworkers in a fall from the mountain in Washington State where he had worked for some time. He had functioned in a daze for at least six weeks after the accident.

The company he’d worked for had brought in professional counselors, and Phillip, like the other guides and outfitters, had attended his obligatory three sessions. Like the others, he had experienced moments of fear and discomfort on his next climb, and truth be told, he had secretly welcomed such emotions. Guiding tourists on mountain climbs had become old hat. Fear had at least added an element of excitement to the process. The apprehension had rapidly dissipated, however, and he had known then that it was time to move on. But to what?

For eight months he had gone through the motions. The whole time, he’d been looking for the next challenge, the next adventure. In the past, something had always cropped up. This time, though, he hadn’t been able to wait on it. This time, he’d started to worry that his lack of enthusiasm for the work was going to get someone else hurt. He’d walked away in the middle of the season, just packed up his stuff and left Seattle for Texas. He’d spent the past five weeks at Chatam House, the antebellum mansion where his aunties had lived their entire lives and the lodestone of the large, far-flung Chatam family.

During that time, his parents had harassed him almost daily about finding a “real” job, and his aunts had worried that he was ignoring his grief. The least he could do, given that the aunties had opened their home to him, was assuage their concern by schlepping downtown to a meeting of the DBC Grief Support Group.

He followed the signs along a hallway and down a flight of stairs to the meeting room in the basement. Soft instrumental music and muted light greeted him as he passed through the open doorway. A pair of older women smiled at him from the counter laden with cookies, coffee and water. His gaze swept the softly lit room, taking in the other occupants. Most were older than him. A boy and girl in their late teens or early twenties appeared to be siblings. Hub, Phillip’s elderly uncle and a retired minister, swooped in with arms spread wide in welcome.

“Phillip! So good to see you.” Reaching up to slide an arm across Phillip’s shoulders, Hub turned to address the milling group. “My nephew Phillip Chatam is joining us tonight. He’s come home to Texas from Seattle.”

Most people nodded and offered taut smiles, but the two women at the refreshment table beamed as they carried over napkin-wrapped cookies and a disposable cup of coffee strong enough to anchor a grappling hook. Phillip accepted both with self-conscious nods before dropping down onto the nearest folding chair. About a dozen of them had been arranged in a horseshoe shape. The other attendees quietly took up seats, leaving several empty, including the one on the end to Phillip’s left.

“Let us begin with silent prayer,” said Hub.

Everyone hushed. Several moments ticked by while Phillip tried to think of a prayer, finally coming up with, God, be with the families of those who died.

It was the same prayer he’d prayed on the day of the accident. He didn’t figure it would do much good. It seemed to Phillip that God was too busy to pay attention to him, but it couldn’t hurt to send up a prayer now and again.