Blessings of The Heart. Valerie Hansen
Читать онлайн книгу.
>
“You live here here all alone?
In this great big house?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure we won’t be a bother?”
Bending down to grab a carton of milk, Bree hadn’t heard Mitch clearly. The low rumble of his voice, however, had sent a shiver zinging up her spine. She straightened abruptly to ask, “What?” and found him standing close behind her. Very close.
Her senses were bombarded by his clean, masculine scent, his overpowering presence and his exhilarating voice. Awed by her reaction to his innocent nearness, Bree wanted to climb into the refrigerator and pull the door shut behind her. Instead, she sidled away and put the center island workstation between her and the attractive man.
Mitch watched her, his arms folded across his broad chest. “I’m not dangerous, you know.”
VALERIE HANSEN
was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.
Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line.
Life doesn’t get much better than that!
Blessings of the Heart
Valerie Hansen
If I take the wings of the morning and dwell
in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall Thy hand lead me and Thy right hand shall hold me.
—Psalms 139:9-10
To Joe, for having the courage and strength
of character to walk away from a lucrative, prestigious job and come chase rainbows with me.
Dear Reader,
As you’ve probably gathered by now, especially if you’ve read my earlier Love Inspired titles, I love rural life in the Ozark Mountains.
We moved out here in the country to escape, just as Brianne did in my story. Only, we did it for different reasons. We weren’t running away from anything, we were running toward it. A city had grown up around us where we’d lived before and our life had gotten too fast-paced and complicated as a result. Yes, wages there were high and jobs were plentiful, but without peace of mind and good physical health, what difference does that make?
So we left. Some of our friends thought we were crazy to follow our dream all the way from Southern California to the backwoods of Arkansas. Others envied us. It took guts and faith to do what we did, but we’ve never been sorry.
There have been a few interesting surprises along the way, too. I knew I could continue to write no matter where I lived but I’d never imagined how much finding a good country church, a Bible-preaching pastor and dozens of new Christian friends would reshape and refocus my faith.
I had to come here as preparation for the books I’m writing now. I just didn’t know it ahead of time!
I invite your letters at P.O. Box 13, Glencoe, AR 72539-0013, e-mails at [email protected] or visit my Web site for the latest news, http://www.centurytel.net/valeriewhisenand/.
Blessings,
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
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold me.”
—Psalm 139:9-10
S tartled, Brianne Bailey froze. Listened. Straightened. Who in the world could be making such an awful racket?
She’d been in her kitchen, peacefully raiding the refrigerator for a quick afternoon snack, when she’d heard the first whack. Before she could determine the source, repeated pounding had built to a deafening crescendo and was echoing through the enormous house. It sounded as if a herd of rampaging elephants was trampling down her substantial mahogany front door. That, or she was being accosted by a psychopathic door-to-door salesman who knew she was there alone and hoped to frighten her into buying his wares!
Both ideas were so ludicrous they made Bree chuckle as she hurried down the hall to answer the knock. “Boy, I’ve been living in a world of fiction for too long,” she muttered. “I’m beginning to think like the crazy characters in my stories.” Which wouldn’t be too bad if I were writing at the time, she added, smiling.
The hammering intensified. “Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Brianne shouted. “Don’t you break the stained glass in the top of that door, whoever you are. I’ll never be able to replace it.”
She grabbed the knob and jerked open the door, ready to continue scolding her would-be intruder. Instead, she took one look at the cause of the disturbance and gasped, slack-jawed.
The man standing on the porch with his fist raised to continue his assault on her helpless door was dirty, sweaty, scratched and bleeding, as if he’d just plunged through a green-briar thicket. He was also remarkably handsome in spite of his disheveled appearance. Left speechless, she wasn’t having a lot of luck sucking in enough air for adequate breathing, either.
Her visitor looked to be in his mid-thirties, with dark, wavy hair and darker eyes beneath scowling brows. Standing there, facing her, he seemed larger than life. As if the pounding hadn’t been enough, his reddened face was added proof of his anger, although what had upset him was a mystery to Bree. Far as she knew, she didn’t have an enemy in the world.
“Can I help you?” She managed to speak.
“It’s your pond,” the man said, looking directly into her wide, blue eyes and pointing with a thrust of his arm. “It’s cut off all my water!”
Brianne held up one hand in a calming gesture. “Whoa. There’s no need to get upset. I’m sure we can work things out. Just tell me exactly what water you’re talking about?”
“From the spring. Over there,” he explained. “You built your new pond between my place and the spring.”
“My pond? Oh, dear. Did I do something against