Season of Joy. Virginia Carmichael
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Shelter For Everyone
As the holiday season approaches, wealthy CEO Calista Sheffield wants to give instead of receive. So she volunteers at a downtown Denver shelter, never expecting that her own scarred heart will be filled with hope and healing. The mission’s director, handsome Grant Monohan, has devoted his life to helping those in need. But his harrowing past—and what he sees every day—makes him wary of Calista. Unless she shares her painful history, he’ll never believe they can have a future. But a future with Grant at the shelter is the only Christmas gift Calista truly wants.
“After spending the day with business people, these kids are a treat,” Calista said.
She turned serious for a moment. “They’re honest. And they don’t care what you’re wearing or what kind of car you drive.”
Grant wanted to say something, but he couldn’t seem to form words. Calista’s face shone with that fragile sweetness he’d seen the first day she came to the mission.
“And they don’t care who your parents are,” he added, his voice sounding huskier than he intended.
“Exactly.” Her gaze locked on his. “I always thought that verse about being like little children meant we were supposed to be gullible. But it really meant that we needed to believe first, and doubt later.”
“Sort of the way that little kids love you first and ask questions later?”
Her face lit up at his words. “That’s just what I mean.”
Love first, and ask questions later. Great for kids, but it was the very worst advice he’d heard for adults.
And still, that’s what was happening in his heart.
About the Author
VIRGINIA CARMICHAEL was born near the Rocky Mountains, and although she has traveled around the world, the wilds of Colorado run in her veins. A big fan of the wide-open sky and all four seasons, she believes in embracing the small moments of everyday life. A home-schooling mom of six young children who rarely wear shoes, those moments usually involve a lot of noise, a lot of mess, or a whole bunch of warm cookies. Virginia holds degrees in Linguistics and Religious Studies from the University of Oregon. She lives with her habanero-eating husband, Crusberto, who is her polar opposite in all things except faith. They’ve learned to speak in short-hand code and look forward to the day they can actually finish a sentence. In the meantime, Virginia thanks God for the laughter and abundance of hugs that fill her day as she plots her next book.
Season of Joy
Virginia Carmichael
I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice, and there will be one flock, and one shepherd.
—John 10:16
This book would not exist if not for the support of many different people, old and young, near and far. Thank you to my daughters Isabel and Ana for being my beta readers. I’m sorry for the smooching. It just had to be in there somewhere. For Jacob, Sam, Edward and Elias, thank you for every time I asked for one more minute to write and you ignored me. Cruz, I want to say Marisol’s food terms came from Google. Really. Thank you to my sister Susan who never reads this kind of book but was willing to put in serious time proofreading and giving comments. If I could write a good ghost story, I would, but that gene was passed to you alone. Thank you to my brother Dennis for making time to read and comment on all sorts of things, giving tech advice, big business advice and keeping a sense of humor through it all. For my brother Sam, who always keeps a clear view of what’s important in life, sort of like Grant. For my parents, Murphy Carmichael and Bonnie Reinke, thank you for raising me in a house with more books than our local library. Bibliophiles unite!
Most of all, thank you to the fine ladies over at Seekerville.com who started this ball rolling in the first place. Your constant encouragement and advice is invaluable.
Contents
Chapter One
A dark tidal wave of fear swept through Calista Sheffield as she paused at the door of the Downtown Denver Mission. She took a deep breath and wiped damp palms on the legs of her jeans. Her image was reflected in the glass door as clearly as in a mirror, the bright Rocky Mountain sunshine as backlighting. Giving her casual outfit a quick scan, she tucked a strand of honey-blond hair behind her ear and tugged at the hem of her black cashmere sweater. She prayed no one in the shelter would be able to tell the difference between Donna Karan and a knockoff, because she wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was here to volunteer.
Her reflection showed a pair of large green eyes shadowed with anxiety. Calista squinted, hating her own weakness. There was no reason to be afraid when she ran a multimillion-dollar company. She gripped the handle and swung it open, striding inside before the heat escaped.
The exterior of the five-story