Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl. Jillian Hart
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and Hope followed him into the narrow hallway, which was warm from the heat of the day. Feelings she couldn’t name fought for recognition in her heart as she struggled with the locked window at the end of the hall. It wouldn’t budge.
“Let me.” Matthew’s arm brushed hers as he took over, efficiently manhandling the stubborn old lock and lifting the equally obstinate wooden window.
The heat from his brief touch lingered on the outside of her arm and didn’t go away, even when she stepped farther back, even when she rubbed at the spot on her arm. Was it her loneliness making her feel this way? She didn’t like it, not one bit.
“Harold’s going to go ahead with the finishing work. He’s excellent at it.” As if he felt it, too, Matthew backed away, creating distance between them, and his gaze locked on hers, warm and intimate.
Way too intimate. Panic leaped to life inside her. “I’m glad you’re leaving the boys for the rest of the afternoon.”
“It looks like you’re managing.” He caught hold of the banister and hesitated. “I’d like to stop by and check on my mom.”
“Why don’t you give her a call from here, and if she’s still under the weather, I’ll send home some food for her, so she doesn’t have to cook tonight. The refrigerator is packed, thanks to your thoughtful words to the pastor.”
“That’s what friends are for.” He tossed her a slow grin, one that lit up the hazel twinkles in his eyes.
“Is that what we are? Friends?”
“Why not, it’s better than being enemies, or adversaries or afraid of the matchmaking women in our lives.”
The confusion coiled in her chest eased. Yes, they were friends. And there was nothing she would like more. Friends were safe. Friends didn’t demand a vulnerable part of your heart.
“Speaking of our matchmaking relatives, I’m going to need your help.” She swept past him, careful not to brush against him, and skipped down the stairs. “I’m going to make a list of all the eligible men in your mom’s age group. I don’t know what to do about Harold. I know Nanna is still interested in him, but Helen is her best friend. That’s the way Nanna is, and I love her for it. So we’ll have to find her someone as nice.”
“That’s going to be hard.” Matthew’s step echoed in the kitchen behind her. “Look.”
Hope eased the screen door open to get a better view of Harold running in the calf-high grass, arms spread, making airplane noises with his three great grandsons.
“I think we should leave it up to the Lord.” Matthew’s grin broadened, and he was handsome enough to make Hope’s senses spin.
Somehow she managed to speak. “What about Helen?”
“’And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love Him.’” Matthew splayed both hands on the porch rail and squinted through the sun to watch Harold dive-bomb Ian, then pretend to have engine trouble and drop to the ground. The boys giggled. “We’ll let Him work it out. Whatever’s meant to happen will. I have a suggestion, though.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“I think Nora might be happy if Harold refinished every last one of her cabinets. Think how shiny and new they’d look.”
“I like the way you think.” Let Harold and Nanna spend time alone in this house, and if they were meant to be together, then the Lord would work it out in His own way. “Consider refinished cabinets my treat to Nanna. How about new linoleum and countertops?”
“I’m miraculously booked up, but I bet Harold might do it.”
“Then we have a deal.” She sidled up next to him at the porch rail, leaving enough space so their elbows wouldn’t brush, and it felt good having a friend in Matthew.
She felt different, better than she could ever remember feeling.
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