Child of Grace. Irene Hannon

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СКАЧАТЬ been built to withstand the brutal winter winds and ice of the Michigan lakeshore, this view had always calmed her. It carried her back to the carefree visits of her youth, when she and her parents and sister had come here for two or three weeks every summer. And it was the same view that had consoled her when she and Gram came alone all the summers after her mom died, while her dad had been working and her older sister had been busy with her part-time job.

      But thanks to a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders, a powerful chest and biceps that were more scary than impressive, it didn’t console her today.

      If she had to have a neighbor, why couldn’t it have been a single woman? Or an older couple? Or a family?

      Why did it have to be a strong, lone male?

      A shiver ran through her, and she turned off the tap. But memories, not cold water, accounted for her sudden chill. Memories she’d been trying hard to contain. And she’d done a good job of that.

      Until today.

      Taking a calming breath, she examined the coffee burn on the back of her right hand. A blister had formed, and when she flexed her fingers the patch stung. Her neighbor had suggested she cover it with gauze, but how many people kept gauze in their house? A Band-Aid would have to suffice.

      As she rummaged through her first aid supplies in the bathroom vanity, she tried not to let the stranger’s appearance ruin her day. But she always looked forward to her solitary Saturday mornings on the beach. She relished those quiet early hours before she opened her quilt shop for the weekend.

      That peaceful interlude wasn’t going to happen today, though.

      And perhaps not again until her neighbor left.

      Unfortunately, he’d mentioned being here for a few weeks. That would take them to the end of summer—and the end of morning weather conducive to sitting on the beach.

      But maybe the allure of the sand and surf would wear off for him after a few days, and she’d have it to herself again. That often happened with visitors.

      At least she could hope.

      The view was great, and Luke shifted around in his beach chair, trying to unwind and enjoy it. But he couldn’t find a comfortable position. Instead of chilling out, he felt restless—and more than a little guilty. He was sorry now about chasing off the jittery blonde. She seemed as much in need of a quiet respite as he did.

      His relaxing morning a bust, Luke gave up. He had things to do anyway. Unpack, stock up on some groceries in Douglas or Saugatuck, get his thoughts together for Monday’s meeting. He could try the beach again tonight. Watch the sunset, perhaps. They were supposed to be spectacular around here.

      After draining his mug in the sand, he rose, he folded up his chair and set off for the steps.

      As he waded through the tall grass, a book lying in the sand caught his eye. The one the blonde had shoved into the top of her beach bag before her hasty departure.

      He bent to retrieve it, flipping the cover over to read the title: Banishing Fear—How to Find Courage in Christ.

      A woman of faith. Interesting.

      An interesting title, too.

      What was his neighbor afraid of? And why was she seeking courage?

      Weighing the book in his hand, he debated what to do with it. He doubted she’d appreciate him showing up at her door. Especially holding a book with a revealing title like this. But he couldn’t leave it in the sand, either.

      She had a back porch, though. He’d glimpsed it this morning from his bedroom window. If he left it there, there’d be no need for face-to-face contact.

      Decision made, he started up the steps. It was a long haul, and despite his stringent exercise regime, he was breathing harder after the steep climb. As he paused at the top, he glanced at the back of the bungalow next door, visible through the trees that divided the properties. The trek up would have been a lot tougher for his pregnant neighbor. Based on the quick glimpse he’d gotten when her towel had slipped, she was seven or eight months along—and she’d been lugging a lot more stuff than he was.

      Yet she’d refused his offer of assistance.

      A woman of mystery, no question about it.

      He made a quick detour to lean his beach chair against one of the two Adirondack chairs behind Mark’s Cape Cod-style, white clapboard house, setting his mug on the chair’s broad arm. Then he crossed the lawn, circled around the woods and headed for his neighbor’s porch.

      His step faltered, however, as the screened structure came into view.

      She was inside.

      He’d have turned around at once—except he didn’t like what he saw. She was balanced on a ladder, reaching toward the fixture in the ceiling. Attempting to change a lightbulb.

      And the ladder didn’t look any too stable.

      He lengthened his stride.

      All at once, as if to reinforce his conclusion, the ladder wobbled. As he broke into a sprint, she clutched at the sides, dropping the replacement bulb in the process. He heard it shatter as he took the two porch steps in one leap, opened the door and grabbed for the ladder, tossing the book he was carrying onto a wicker settee.

      His sudden appearance seemed to rattle her as much as the wobbling ladder had. Sucking in a sharp breath, she tried to descend quickly. But she missed a rung, and Luke relinquished his grip on the ladder to catch her when she slipped backward.

      As his arms went around her and he absorbed her weight, he heard her panicked gasp. Felt the tremors coursing through her. Sensed her almost palpable fear.

      And when her oversized T-shirt slipped off one shoulder, he also saw the jagged scar of recent vintage near her collarbone.

      “You’re okay.” He gentled his voice, his focus still on the scar. “I’ve got you. Take a few deep breaths.”

      If she heard him, she gave no indication. Instead, she jerked out of his arms and stumbled toward her back door. As if she was running away.

      Again.

      As she fumbled with the knob, her back to him, he tried to reassure her.

      “Look—I just came over to return your book. You must have dropped it on the beach.”

      She froze. Checked him out over her shoulder.

      He tipped his head toward the book on the settee.

      Flicking a look in that direction, she blushed. Then she turned halfway toward him, keeping one hand on the knob. As if prepared to flee at the slightest provocation. “Thank you.”

      “No problem.” He gestured toward the ladder. “I think you need to replace that. It’s seen better days.”

      “I will.”

      “In the meantime, why don’t you let me change the bulb for you?”

      “That’s not necessary. Thank СКАЧАТЬ