Samantha's Gift. Valerie Hansen
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The moment Rachel gave in and began to skip, her joy took flight. Her skirt skimmed her calves, and her dark hair swung and shimmered with every hop.
She suddenly realized her inattention was a mistake, because a large figure loomed in her path. She tried to dodge. Momentum foiled the effort. She smashed into a man’s broad, solid chest with a thump and a stifled screech.
The boxes of crayons and loose drawing paper she’d been carrying sailed into the air. The whole mess rained down on them. Crayons rolled all over the sidewalk, making solid footing nearly impossible.
“Look out!” the man shouted belatedly.
Everything happened so fast, it took Rachel a few seconds to realize why she hadn’t fallen when they’d collided. Her blue eyes widened and focused on the stranger whose warm, strong hands were clamped on her upper arms, steadying her….
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!
Samantha’s Gift
Valerie Hansen
For He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
—Psalms 91:11
My sister Audrey has suggested that I dedicate this book to our mother, Helen Hansen, who was a stickler for correct spelling and grammar, and probably taught me a lot more than I cared to admit, especially in my student days. Mom was also the one who laid the foundation of faith by taking us to Sunday school. So this one’s for her. I wish she were here to read it.
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
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Rachel Woodward’s spirits soared the moment she stepped out the supply room door into the clear, warm Ozark morning. Pausing in appreciation, she took a slow, deep breath of fresh mountain air, noted the spicy, familiar aroma of the crayons and colored construction paper piled high in her arms, and smiled.
Another day in paradise. Life was as close to perfect as it could get.
Working with young children and seeing the world through their eyes made Rachel feel as if she were discovering new wonders every day. Their innocent enthusiasm was contagious. Why, if she were six instead of twenty-six, she might even give in to the urge to skip happily down the sidewalk all the way to her classroom!
She clasped the stack of supplies closer to her chest and looked around furtively. Did she dare? What would it hurt as long as no one saw her? Few students arrived this early in the morning and the other teachers were either in the staff lounge discussing their summer vacations or already in their rooms finishing last-minute preparations. The coast was clear.
Rachel’s grin widened. Why not? It seemed like a sin to suppress all the elation she was feeling, simply because society dictated that adults should behave more sedately.
Who wanted to be a stuffy adult, anyway? Certainly not her.
The moment she gave in and began to skip, her joy took flight. Her skirt skimmed her calves and her shoulder-length dark hair swung with every hop.
Squinting against the bright sunshine, she blinked slowly, reverently. Thank you, Father, for finding me a job that blesses me so much.
That instant’s inattention was a mistake. A large figure loomed suddenly in her path! She tried to dodge. Momentum foiled the effort. She smashed into a man’s broad, solid chest with a thump and a stifled screech.
Boxes of crayons and loose drawing paper sailed into the air. The whole mess rained down on them. Crayons rolled all over the sidewalk, making a solid footing nearly impossible.
“Look out!” he shouted belatedly.
Everything happened so fast that it took Rachel a few seconds to realize why she hadn’t fallen when they’d collided. Her vivid blue eyes widened and focused on the stranger whose warm, strong hands were clamped on her upper arms, steadying her.
Since Rachel was barely five-foot-two and slight, she’d often found herself at a size disadvantage. This instance, however, was much worse than usual. This man was so tall, so broad shouldered, so obviously muscular, she felt like the captive of a giant. Hopefully, a friendly one.
Her mouth suddenly went dry. Heart pounding, she fought to catch her breath and compose herself in spite of the nervous fluttering in her stomach. She knew it was normal for people to feel a surge of adrenaline when they were startled the way she’d just been, but this was ridiculous. She was not one of those faint-of-heart women who swooned every time an attractive man looked her way.
And speaking of looking… The man’s chest, covered in a pale shirt and navy blazer, fell at her eye level. Following the line of his tie upward she saw a square jaw, firm mouth, hazel eyes—and an expression clearly filled with amusement.
She was too embarrassed to mirror his good humor. With a stubborn lift of her chin she did her best to appear unruffled as she asked, “Where did you come from?”
“Cleveland.” A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth.
“I meant just now,” Rachel told him. “I didn’t see a soul in the hall before you ran into me.”
“I ran into you?”
“Yes.” She tried unsuccessfully to pull away. When he continued to hold on to her, she asserted her independence clearly. “That’s enough. You can let go of me now.”
“Okay.”
The man released her so abruptly, she staggered and almost wound up sitting at his feet amid the spilled crayons. Wouldn’t that have been cute! As if being caught skipping wasn’t bad enough.
“I didn’t mean for you to throw me down,” she said.
“Make up your mind.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and struck a nonchalant pose.
Rachel studied his face