Hearts In Bloom. Mae Nunn
Читать онлайн книгу.
He caught Jessica to his chest, muscular arms wrapped protectively around her. She’d never felt such relief in her life. Suddenly there was a sense of completeness where there had been a huge void.
“What on earth is wrong?”
“The wedding is less than nine hours away, my work crew just canceled and I can’t even begin to tell you what’s at stake today. I know I don’t deserve it, but if you’ll help me, Drew, I promise I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”
He smiled, dimple and all, and guided her to the sidewalk.
“Let me make a couple of phone calls. I’ll meet you in the Commons in five minutes.”
He ran his hand down the back of her hair as she turned to walk away.
A glance over her shoulder sent a thrill of hope through her heart. He was still watching, tenderness etched in his features.
MAE NUNN
grew up in Houston and graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in communications. When she fell for a transplanted Englishman who lived in Atlanta, Mae hung up her spurs to become a Southern belle. Today she and her husband make their home with their two children in Georgia. Mae has been with a major air-express company for twenty-five years, currently serving as a regional customer service manager. She began writing four years ago. When asked how she felt about being part of the Steeple Hill family, Mae summed her response up with one word, “Yeeeeeha!”
Hearts in Bloom
Mae Nunn
In his heart a man plans his course,
but the Lord determines his steps.
—Proverbs 16:9
For my precious Maegan, who gave up so many
Saturday outings so her mama could write. For my
critique partner, Dianna, who is a gift straight from
heaven. For my friend Larry, whose incredible story
inspired me to get it started. And for my husband,
Michael, who makes it all worthwhile.
Dear Reader,
Five years ago I was amazed by the true story of a Green Beret’s survival after dropping 40,000 feet with a defective parachute. I was compelled to spin a tale around this real-life hero and I wanted to create an equally special heroine for him. A woman with a real-life body and all the real-life fears that go along with it. Picture me getting started: a laptop on my bathroom counter, my faithful dog draped across my lap. After two years of watching me spend my weekends in the bathroom, my very own handsome hero transformed a closet into a workspace, and I became a “real writer.”
My self-imposed rule was not to write anything that would offend my mother or my daughter. Try as I might, I couldn’t ignore the call to do more, to use my words to glorify our Heavenly Father. Hearts in Bloom is my debut Love Inspired novel. I hope spending time with Jessica and Drew blesses you as much as writing their story has blessed me. Share your thoughts when you visit me at maenunn.com.
Until next time, let your light shine.
Contents
Chapter One
Dirt.
There was just something so appealing about dirt.
Jessica Holliday couldn’t remember a time in her twenty-six years when she hadn’t been fascinated by the stuff and the miracles it generated. She breathed deeply of its comforting smell and lightly massaged the site of her knee injury.
Atlanta’s top orthopedic surgeon had performed the anterior medialization, grafting bone and marrow, inserting titanium screws and closing the knee with thirty-five staples. But no amount of medical skill would ever restore full strength to her leg.
A small price to pay, considering Adam Crockett was lost forever to his grieving family. A family who blamed her for his death.
At least she had the chance to start again. She’d planned better than her mother, who’d ended up with no education and a child to support after her ex-military husband had abandoned them. Thanks to a green thumb and a very tight budget, Jessica had learned something besides dance. She could design, plant and tend gardens of all kinds, and the proof covered the ten-acre campus of Sacred Arms.
Sitting cross-legged in the shade of six-foot-high fuchsia and white azalea bushes, she admired the beds in bloom. Tall clusters of purple iris and feathery, light pink plumes of astilbe surrounded her. Fragrant bunches of lavender waved in the warm spring breeze.
An afternoon sun glinted through the shady gardens of the town-home complex and she ducked her head to avoid the momentary brightness. Her downcast eyes were drawn to her hands, to the nails that were in desperate need of a manicure. The fashionable mid-town salon had probably figured out months ago that she wouldn’t be keeping her regular appointment any longer.
She’d kept her nails maintained only out of responsibility anyway, hating the busy metallic clicking of the clippers and the rough filing and the smell of acrylic. But a principal performer for the Atlanta Dance Theater could hardly greet supporters with soil under her fingernails. Now the trace of dirt beneath her short nails was a welcome sight.
How quickly priorities could change. One moment she