Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl: Heaven Sent / His Hometown Girl. Jillian Hart
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the grandchildren was Matthew Sheridan’s wife.”
The brush slipped from her fingers. “I didn’t know.”
“Lucky thing, one of the boys got sick right before the plane took off, so she left the children with Matthew. He was devastated. It shook all of us to the core, I tell you. We lost a lot of friends that day.”
Matthew lost his wife and the mother of his children. Her chest tightened. She remembered how he’d seen her safely home last night. And remembered the loneliness in his eyes. “It’s strange to be here after being gone for so many years. All the people I know are much older now. So much has happened to them.”
“And your classmates grown up and married.” Nanna’s eyes sparkled. “Everyone except you.”
“Surely not everyone’s married. There has to be a few people in this town as smart as I am.” She winked at Nanna’s reflection in the big, beveled mirror.
“You mean as misguided. I think your old friend Karen McKaslin isn’t married yet. Now, don’t get your hopes up. Her wedding is scheduled for sometime this fall.”
“A mistake.” Hope shook her head. “I’ll have to give her a call and see if I can’t wisen her up.”
Nanna laughed. “Tease all you want. You never know when the lovebug will bite.”
“Lovebug?” Hope reached for a headband on the edge of the nightstand. “If love is a bug, then all I need is a good can of pesticide.”
“Really, Hope. You’re impossible.” Nanna’s hand caught hers, warm and accepting, as always. “And no, I won’t change your mind. I’ll let God do that.”
“What’s He gonna do? Send a lovebug?”
“You never know. There are a few handsome men in this town looking for the right woman to share their lives with.”
“Oh, there are men, all right, but I don’t think marriage is what they’re looking for.”
“Then you’ve been living in all the wrong places.” Nanna winked, then caught her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, Hope. Why, this is wonderful. I hardly recognize myself.”
“You look beautiful, Nanna.” Hope brushed her hand gently over a few stray wisps, guiding them into place. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“My day nurse Kirby is taking care of that.”
“Well, she has enough to do taking care of you.”
“Yes, but the real question is, can you cook?” Nanna looked terribly skeptical. “I know how you live, always traveling—”
“That’s because I’m always working.”
“If you had a husband and a family, you would have more to do with your time than work.” Nanna pressed a kiss to Hope’s cheek, one of comfort and love. “Go ahead, make breakfast. I’m a brave woman with good digestion.”
“I’m not going to poison you.”
“And be careful of the sink handle. It’s been leaking something fierce. And that right front stove burner is wobbly. I mean to talk to someone in town about it today.”
“Have a little faith, Nanna. I’m all grown up. I think I can figure out a faucet handle and an ancient stove.”
“’Pride goes before destruction, and haughtiness before a fall.’”
“Relax.” Hope helped Nanna lean back into her pillows, then reached for the quilt to cover her. “I’m not going to burn down the kitchen.”
“You almost did once, you know.”
“I was seventeen years old.” Hope pressed a kiss to Nanna’s brow. How fast time passed. And it was passing faster every day. “You get some rest, and I’ll be right back with some scrambled eggs.”
“Now this I have to see,” Nanna mused.
Hope pulled the door closed and hurried downstairs, her heart heavy. Nanna was wrong, she didn’t need the pain of marriage. She’d watched her parents up close and personal, and she’d sworn never to live like that. Ever.
Even now, remembering, her stomach tensed and she laid her hand there. The ulcer still bothered her from time to time. Usually whenever she thought about her family.
Yes, singleness was one gift from the Lord she intended to cherish for the rest of her life.
“Matthew, you have to take my place on the Founder’s Days planning committee. I can’t do everything.” Matthew’s mother herded three little boys into her living room. Building blocks clattered and sounds of glee filled the air. “I don’t mind keeping the triplets over the summer, you know that. But these three are a lot to keep up to. You’re going to have to do some things for me.”
“The committee meetings are during the day, and you know I can’t take off work. I’ve got a roof to put on the McKaslins’ hay barn—”
“You can work it out. You’re self-employed.” Mom pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Tell you what, I’ll sweeten the deal. I’ll keep the boys past supper every night if you’ll take over this one tiny, little obligation for me.”
“I’m a carpenter. I don’t know the first thing about committees.”
“Nonsense, a smart man like you. The meeting is this morning, from ten-thirty to eleven-thirty at Karen’s little coffee shop. Oh, those boys are a busy bunch, aren’t they?” Mom took off at a run. “Ian, don’t climb up the fireplace. No, not even if you’re a fireman.”
There was a twinkle in her eye. The planning committee, as far as he knew, consisted of the town’s oldest citizens.
If Mom wasn’t playing matchmaker, she was still up to something. If only he knew what.
Manhattan, Montana crept into sight around the last bend. Hope hadn’t seen this place since she was seventeen. Last night, when she’d driven through with Matthew, it had been dark and late, the streets deserted.
In the light of day, she saw that much was different from what she remembered. Businesses had changed hands, new stores had come in, but the character and the small-town feel remained.
It was the closest thing to home she’d known in her entire life.
“It’s good to be back, isn’t it?” Why did Nanna sound triumphant? “I always knew you belonged here, Hope, and not in your parents’ world.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” Hope braked as an elderly man jaywalked leisurely across the wide, two-lane street.
“It means you’re the kind of person who needs roots, like me. To plant them deep and watch your life grow.” Nanna tapped her fingers against the dash. “Turn here. Right there in front of the blue shop.”
Hope eased Nanna’s old sedan into a parking spot. The hand-painted sign on the row of shops read Field of Beans. “I’m not a tree. I don’t have roots.”
“You know darn well what I mean, you’re being stubborn.” Nanna opened her door. “Kirby, dear, bring those crutches. I can handle the steps by myself.”
Hope saw the nurse’s exasperated look in the rearview. “Don’t tell me she’s always like this?”
“Usually she’s worse.” The young nurse hopped out of the car, hurrying to help.
Hope listened to her grandmother issue orders to Kirby as she situated the crutches beneath her arms. Nanna might be injured, but her spirit remained unscathed. Hope stepped out into the fresh spring morning to lend Kirby a hand.
Already the sun was hot, and dust mixed in the air. She smelled freshly ground coffee and baking muffins. “Nanna, is there anything