Yuletide Hearts. Ruth Herne Logan

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СКАЧАТЬ the road. “I know this is difficult,” he began.

       Hank cut him off. “Things happen for a reason, son. Always did, always will. I can’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed by my run of bad luck, especially because it affected more than me.”

       Callie knew he’d shifted his gaze her way, but she kept her eyes down, not ready to rush this decision, although seeing Matt’s grin on a regular basis wouldn’t be a hardship. No, she’d definitely go to delightful. Maybe even delicious. But seriously off limits.

       Like you’re all that much to look at in hoodies and jeans with a tool belt strapped around your waist? Step back into reality, honey. Been there, done that. Bad ending all around.

       “But I’ve wound ’round God’s paths all my life,” Hank went on, “the ups and downs, the back-and-forths, and we’ve always come out okay in the end.”

       “Good philosophy,” Matt noted. He moved across the side porch, then down the steps. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

       “I’ll call,” Hank promised.

       Callie stared at her coffee, not wanting it, not wanting to be broke, not wanting to work for the attractive guy across the street who seemed bent on getting them involved in his success while facing their loss.

       “It’s a good opportunity, Cal.” Hank laid a hand on her shoulder, his gentle grip understanding.

       “The location’s convenient.”

       “Yes.”

       She sighed and stared out the window, seeing nothing. “And the money’s good.”

       “And welcome.”

       “I’ll say.” She paused, drummed her fingers along the table top, then slanted her eyes to his. “I know we have to say yes, Dad.”

       He winced, then shrugged, understanding her mixed feelings.

       “But I have to recount the reasons why before I do it.”

       “Like bills to pay?”

       “For one.” She nodded toward the school bus lumbering down the road. “I spent my Christmas budget on school clothes and supplies for Jake. He grew so much this summer that nothing fit, so I had to totally re-outfit him.”

       “And my little stash went toward truck engine repairs.”

       Two relatively minor things had dissolved their meager savings. Callie hated that, but then gave herself an internal smack upside the head.

       Jake was strong, healthy and athletic, a good boy who loved traipsing off to a fishing hole, who behaved himself in school and accepted the necessary extra tutoring with little argument. He knew his way around a hammer and saw, a Marek trait tried and true, and wasn’t afraid to don a hard hat and be a crew gopher.

       Her father’s health had returned with his colostomy, and if he continued to do well, they’d be able to reverse the procedure mid-winter. And while his appetite waned occasionally, she couldn’t deny that good old-fashioned hard work was the best appetite builder known to man, and that getting back to work was in her father’s long-term best interest.

       The General dashed off the porch to greet Jake, his fur blending to grays in pursuit, the flash of white tail fringe the kind of welcome any boy would love.

       “But the needy will not always be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted ever perish.”

       The words of the ninth Psalm flooded her, their comfort magnified in simplicity.

       Callie liked things simple. She loved the feel of crewing on a house, walking scaffolding, climbing ladders, working a rooftop. Her father had affectionately called her his “right-hand man” from the time she was big enough to eye a square alongside him, and they’d laughed at the expression.

       But you stopped laughing when Dustin walked out, citing your lack of femininity as a total turnoff.

       Jake’s dad had tossed her over for the former Livingston County Miss New York entrant, a petite gal who’d promptly given him two daughters in their suburban home in Rhode Island, neither of whom Jake had ever met. Dustin made it abundantly clear that his first family was an anomaly in an otherwise perfect life, therefore best forgotten.

       Jake’s entrance stopped her maudlin musings. She stood, smiled, grabbed him in a quick hug, then examined the papers he waved her way. “Another hundred on your math test?”

       His grin said more than words ever could.

       “And a plus on your homework sheets.” She ruffled his hair, nodded toward a plate of cookies and the refrigerator. “Grab a snack, there are fresh apples in the crisper. I’m heading out front to get more of that mold washed off.”

       “Can we work on my science project tonight?”

       “Absolutely.” Halting her work on their home’s western exposure for dinner, dark and homework left her little time to make progress, but Jake’s enthusiasm over schoolwork outranked everything. His excitement came after years of grueling practice, nights when he hated her, mornings spent crying, not wanting to get on the bus because school proved too difficult.

       “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts.”

       Churchill’s words uplifted her, World War II a favorite study topic for Jake, and having served in Iraq, Callie understood war rigors firsthand. While hyped battles might gain more press, small battles, fought daily, wore down the enemy, except when the enemy came from within.

       She pushed that thought aside, refusing to revisit old feelings that should have abated long past. Sure, she’d been dumped. Callie was adult enough to handle that. But Dustin dumped Jake, too, and despite prayer and her best efforts, what did she long to do?

       Give her ex the quick kick he deserved for abandoning a God-given miracle. The first gift of Christmas. A child.

       But Callie refused to dwell on Dustin Burdick’s shortcomings, although that proved harder at holiday time. She was home, safe and sound, with a beautiful son, a warm house and good friends. What more could she need?

       The sound of a generator drew her gaze across the street. A light winked on in the model home, the only home near completion, and she caught sight of Matt Cavanaugh trekking back and forth from his truck to the pretty Cape Cod house, lugging things inside.

       She pulled her attention back to the task at hand and climbed the ladder with her bucket and thick, green scrubbie, determined to get as much done as she could despite the chill, waning light.

       Determination. Valor. Perseverance. She had the heart of a lioness and the grit of a soldier, two things vital to soothe the scarred soul of the woman within.

      Chapter Three

      Matt recognized Hank Marek’s name and answered his phone quickly, praying for a “yes.”

       “We’re in, Matt.”

      Thank you. Matt breathed the thought heavenward, СКАЧАТЬ