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“Sure thing. Back in a flash.”

James took a menu from the rack and glanced at it. Nothing looked appetizing.

Where is she?

James and Stephanie had spoken by telephone twice yesterday, once before she left to have her hair done and again in the evening when he phoned to tell her that Jenna would be arriving for a visit the following week. Both times he’d felt Stephanie pulling away. He knew why—a safety measure, of sorts, in case things didn’t work out between them.

Yes, he knew why, but he didn’t know what he could do about it. He didn’t know how to make her believe all would be well.

And if he couldn’t make her believe it, maybe everything
wouldn’t
be well. Maybe her worries would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Nancy arrived at his table, Coke glass in one hand, water glass in the other. “Have you decided?” she asked as she set the beverages before him.

“I’ll have a toasted BLT.”

“Wheat or white bread?”

“Wheat, please.”

“Soup or salad?”

When a man ate from habit rather than hunger, he didn’t want to make choices. “Surprise me.”

She laughed. “You got it.”

After Nancy headed for the kitchen, James turned his gaze out the window, looking across Main Street at the Apollo. He had lots of memories of that old theater, and many of them included Stephanie. Saturday matinees with black-and-white westerns flickering on the screen. V-J Day with its wild celebrations. Friday night dates when they were in high school and they’d talked about what they wanted to be and where they wanted to live.

He’d loved Stephanie Carlson, but he hadn’t been ready for marriage when he was eighteen. Now, at the ripe old age of seventy, he was ready for it. More than ready.

He couldn’t explain how or why this love for her had blossomed so quickly since his return. He only knew it had. He knew that it was real, solid, and lasting. It was an old love, yet it was like first love, too. He wanted to spend the rest of his days with Stephanie. He wanted to read love poetry to her by the fire on cold winter nights. He wanted to stroll with her through town on soft summer evenings. He wanted to be her husband, her lover, her best friend. God willing, they would have many good and healthy years together.

But first he had to keep her from bolting like a scared colt.

“You look like you could use a friend, Jimmy Scott.”

He turned from the window as Till Hart slid onto the seat across from him. With a shake of his head, he said, “Is my mood that obvious?”

“Mmm. I’d say so.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve talked to Steph today. I haven’t been able to reach her.”

“Sorry. I haven’t seen or talked to her all week. Not since you whisked her away to a fancy lunch at the resort and proposed marriage—or so I hear tell from Frani.” Till clucked her tongue. “You certainly didn’t let any grass grow under your feet, James. I’ll say that for you.”

He tried to smile but failed.

“You don’t look like a happy groom-to-be. Why is that?”

“Our kids,” he answered solemnly. “Except for my youngest, they don’t approve of our wedding plans.” He glanced down at his hands clenched into fists atop the table. “I don’t mind getting old, Till. I can deal with the aches and pains that come with age. I figure I’ve earned them, living this long. But I resent being treated like a child by my own offspring.”

“I believe I would, too.”

“But that’s not the worst part.” He looked up again. “I’m afraid Steph’s having second thoughts. I’m afraid Miranda and Jenna’s attitudes are going to drive a wedge between us, and I don’t know how to stop it from happening.”

“Oh dear. We mustn’t let that happen. Not if you and Steph love each other.”

“We do, Till. I guarantee it.”

* * *

That evening, Till Hart called an emergency meeting of the Thimbleberry Quilting Club. If there was one thing the members of this group knew how to do even better than creating beautiful quilts, it was how to pray.

Through the years, they—and many former members of the club—had prayed for one another, for family and friends, and for complete strangers. They’d prayed when couples married, when babies were born, and when folks died. They’d prayed for elections, wars, and natural disasters in America and far corners of the world. They’d prayed for circumstances that seemed overwhelming, and they’d prayed for secret wishes of the heart. From the eldest member to the youngest, they were women who believed in the power of prayer and in a God who delighted in giving good gifts to his children.

On that evening in mid-October, five of the six Thimbleberry members—only Stephanie was absent and that was by design—gathered in the living room of Till’s home to pray for their dear friend and for the man who loved her.

Chapter 12

STEPHANIE HAD PRAYED THAT she would hear God’s voice and know what she was to do, and early the next morning, in that halfway state between waking and sleeping, she received an answer.

And the Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a companion who will help him.”

As the verse from Genesis floated through her mind, Stephanie opened her eyes, half expecting to see someone else in the room because the voice seemed so clear.

I made you, Beloved, for a purpose.

Her pulse quickened.

I made you to be his companion.

Despite the rapid beating of her heart, Stephanie felt at peace. The special peace that came only from knowing and doing God’s will. Rare moments like this, when God spoke directly to her spirit, left her breathless with wonder. She heard and she understood. There was no room left for doubt.

She slid upright against the headboard and reached for the telephone on her nightstand. After punching in the number, she waited impatiently for an answer on the other end of the line.

Her heart skipped when she heard his sleepy, “Hello?”

“James, it’s me.”

“Steph?” He sounded more alert. “Thank God. Are you all right? Where were you yesterday? I kept calling, but you never answered the phone.”

“I’m fine. Really. I needed to go off by myself for the day. I had some praying and soul searching to do.”

Silence, then, “And?”

She smiled, hoping he could hear it in her voice. “And the children will simply have to accept that we’re getting married.” She brought her lips closer to the mouthpiece. “I love you, James. I want to be your wife more than anything.”

“Don’t go anywhere. Do you hear me? I’m getting dressed and coming right over. Don’t go anywhere.”

Stephanie looked at the clock. “It’s only 6:30.”

“I don’t care. I’m up and you’re up. What the clock reads doesn’t matter to us.”

She laughed softly. “All right. I’ll put the coffee on. Come to the back door. It’ll be unlocked.”

The moment she hung up the phone, Stephanie tossed aside the bedcovers and hurried to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and run a comb through her hair. She changed into a pair of slacks and a blouse, then went to the kitchen to make the coffee. It was just starting to brew when a soft rap sounded. An instant later, the back door opened.

If there had been any shred of doubt remaining about her decision to marry James, it would have disappeared at the sight of him. Her heart skipped, and she felt as giddy as she had at the age of sixteen when he arrived, clad in tux and cummerbund, to escort her to the junior-senior prom.

Strange, the pathways of life. She had loved James twice—first as a girl, then as an old woman. Yes, the pathways that had brought her back to him were strange…wonderful…unexplainable. No wonder her daughter couldn’t understand what had happened in the past few weeks. Stephanie barely understood it herself.

“You’re beautiful in the morning,” James said.

Beautiful? Perhaps in her youth, but no more. Now her face was wrinkled, her hair was Ivory soap white, and her body was soft in too many of the wrong places. But as James drew near, she realized he meant what he said. She
was
beautiful in his eyes.

He gathered her in his arms. Arms still strong despite his age. Strong enough to hold her close. “You had me worried for a while. I was afraid I’d lose you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

One day she would share with him the words God had whispered to her. Perhaps on their anniversary as they reminisced about their whirlwind second courtship.

James kissed her softly on the mouth, and when their lips parted, Stephanie sighed with pleasure. Romantic love was not the property of the young, no matter what people believed.

“Tell me something,” he said.

“Of course.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

She smiled as she touched his jaw, running her fingers over his close-trimmed beard. “It’s a tie. Aquamarine and lemon yellow.”

“And your favorite movie?”

 “Sound of Music.”

It pleased her that he’d remembered Miranda’s questions. It pleased her that it mattered to him because it mattered to her daughter. It made her believe things would be well between Miranda and James. If not this week or next week, then perhaps next month or the one after that.

James brushed his lips against her forehead. “We’d better call John Gunn this morning and arrange for the church.”

“Yes. I think we’d better. I’m ready to become Mrs. James Scott.” She looked up at him. “The sooner, the better.”

Chapter 13

TWELVE DAYS LATER, THE Thimbleberry Quilting Club hosted a bridal shower for Stephanie in the fellowship hall of Hart’s Crossing Community Church. It was a joyous affair.

Francine and Angie Hunter led the guests in a few silly games that had everyone in stitches. Then they all clapped and teased as Stephanie opened her gifts, including a beautiful aquamarine negligee and robe. Afterward, the guests drank punch and ate cake while Till Hart regaled them with long-ago stories about Stephanie. One thing could be said about Till—there was nothing wrong with her memory!

“Mom!” Miranda exclaimed, looking at her with wide eyes after hearing about the night a bunch of kids from the junior class drove fifty miles to steal their arch rival’s school mascot. “Did you really do that?”

“Well, it wasn’t only me.” Stephanie cast a mock glare in Till’s direction. “There were a dozen of us involved.”

“I can’t believe you’d do such a thing.” Miranda shook her head. “It’s just not like you.”

Interesting, how parents were viewed by their children. Stephanie had no trouble seeing her involvement in that high school episode as being “just like her.” She hadn’t been what anyone would call wild, but she’d pulled her share of teenage pranks that got her in hot water.

Paula, seated on Stephanie’s left side, leaned close and whispered, “No wonder Daddy fell in love with you. You rascal, you.”

Although Paula had been Stephanie and James’s greatest ally from the moment she and her daughters stepped onto the tarmac at the Twin Falls airport, the past week had seen a softening of attitudes with the other three children as well, giving Stephanie hope that one day the two families would become truly united.

Miranda had begun to warm up to James, despite herself. The more time they spent together, the less angry Miranda was and the less she seemed to fear that he wanted to replace her father. It was a good beginning.

Jenna had arrived in Hart’s Crossing, expecting to find a treasure-hunting black widow who had trapped her unsuspecting father in a web. It hadn’t taken long for the young woman to learn that Stephanie was anything but. While still not thrilled that her father had chosen to marry so quickly, neither had she raised more opposition.

As for the pragmatic Kurt, he’d accepted the inevitable with a “If you’re sure, Dad,” and a “Welcome to the family, Stephanie.”

Most importantly, over the past few days, each of their children had let their parents know, in ways both large and small, that they were loved. And love, Stephanie knew, would see all of them through. Love never failed.

How blessed she was, she thought as she looked around the fellowship hall, to be surrounded by family and friends, some who had prayed for her countless times through the years, loved ones who’d lifted her when she had no strength to stand on her own. God had been good to her. He’d given her fifty years with her beloved Chuck. He’d entrusted her with their wonderful daughter. And now he’d brought James back into her life.

Autumn had always been Stephanie’s favorite season of the year—and now she thought it might become the favorite season of her life as well.

Who, besides God, knew what the future held in store?

Storms? Probably.

Love? Most assuredly.

Stephanie couldn’t wait for this new adventure to begin.

Diamond Place

Hart’s Crossing Series #3

Robin Lee Hatcher

Chapter 1

February 2006

LYSSA SAMPSON STARED AT her reflection in the bedroom mirror as she gave the brim of her baseball cap a slight tug. She did her best not to show any emotion.
Baseball Digest
said that’s how Cardinal pitcher Chris Carpenter did it. The article, found in one of her older issues of the magazine, said concrete budged more easily than Carpenter’s face. It called him “the Lord of Bored.” That’s how Lyssa wanted to look when she stood on the pitcher’s mound.

“Lyssa,” her mom called from downstairs, “Are you getting dressed?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, hurry up. Your breakfast is about ready.”

“Okay. Just a minute.”

Lyssa removed the baseball cap and slipped it into her backpack along with her schoolwork and books. After a moment’s hesitation, she shoved a couple issues of
Baseball Digest
into the backpack, too. She needed to memorize a few more stats before the next practice. She wanted Coach Jenkins to know she was serious about baseball.

Real serious.

* * *

“Lyssa!” Terri walked to the foot of the stairs and looked up toward her daughter’s bedroom. “Your breakfast is ready now. Hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”