Season Of Hope. Lisa Jordan

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СКАЧАТЬ eyes skimmed across the hand-painted sign hanging above the farmhouse sink. In every thing give thanks.

      Would Mom still feel that way if she knew what the future held for the Holland family?

      After losing so much, Jake struggled with thankfulness. He went through the motions of praying and attending church, but he doubted his prayers reached past the ceiling. Didn’t matter that he could recite verses from memory, list the books of the Bible and answer trivia questions with the best of them. He and God...well, they were more like strangers these days.

      How could he have a meaningful relationship with Someone who took the people he loved most?

      His eyes strayed to Dad’s open Bible on the table in his usual spot. More often than not, he’d walk into the farmhouse after milking and see Dad with his reading glasses on, Bible open and a cup of coffee in his hand.

      How did Dad and Tuck maintain their faith without feeling resentful? How could it be God’s will to destroy a family?

      Questions without answers. And Jake struggled to wrap his head around it.

      He dropped his gaze to the pile of steaming eggs and shoved a forkful in his mouth. He ate half a slice of rye toast in two bites and washed it down with a mouthful of coffee.

      Tucker snapped his fingers in front of Jake’s face. “Hey, man. Wake up. Claudia’s here.”

      Terrific.

      Jake stifled a sigh, looked longingly at the rest of his breakfast and palmed his travel mug as he pushed away from the table. “Hold onto my plate, will you? I’ll finish it later.”

      “Where are you going?”

      “To the barn. I’m giving Claudia’s niece a tour of the farm.”

      “Enjoy.”

      Not likely.

      Jake scooted out the back door, shoved his feet into his boots and headed for the barnyard.

      Perhaps the polite thing would’ve been to greet Claudia and Tori at the front door and show Tori where to go, but he was sure Dad would take care of that.

      It gave him a couple of extra minutes to psych himself into seeing Tori again.

      He headed into the barn, gathered the saddles and pads, and carried them out to the yard, hanging them on the fence. Returning to the barn, he grabbed the bridles and fetched Westley and Buttercup, two buckskin quarter horses, and led them out of the barn as Tori crossed the yard to meet him. She carried a small brown bag in one hand while her niece, wearing denim shorts and a pink T-shirt, clutched her other hand.

      Tori wore a light blue fitted T-shirt with a yellow cup and Luke’s printed on it. Jeans hugged her legs, and she wore a pair of gray outdoor hiking sandals. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail that flopped as she walked.

      They reached the fence where the lawn hemmed the barnyard. The little girl looked at Jake with clover-green eyes like Tori’s and the same crease in her cheeks when she smiled.

      Jake’s heart ratcheted against his ribs.

      That child could pass for Tori’s daughter.

      What would it have been like to have a child with Tori? A little girl with those same eyes and dimples? A boy with his dark hair and love of animals?

      Jake chased away that thought. Dangerous territory.

      Tori lifted the little girl in her arms. “Annabeth wanted to see the animals, so your dad and Claudia are going to show her the pigs and chickens while I tour your farm with you.”

      He stuck out his hand. “Hey, Annabeth. It’s nice to see you again. My name’s Jake.”

      She buried her face in Tori’s shoulder, then turned to give him a shy smile.

      Tori kissed her on the cheek, then set her down. “Why don’t you run back to the house and see if Auntie C is ready to see the piggies.”

      Annabeth ran across the yard, then turned back and gave them a little wave.

      “She’s cute.”

      “Yes, she is.” She handed him a brown lunch bag.

      He took it, eying the grease stain on the bag. “What’s this?”

      “Peace offering.”

      He opened the bag to find two golden-topped biscuits. He reached for one, surprised to find it still warm, and took a bite. Butter rolled across his tongue. He swallowed a groan and took another bite.

      Hands clasped in front of her, Tori bit the corner of her lip as she watched him.

      Jake finished off the biscuit, licked the melted butter off his fingers and reached for his travel mug sitting on a fence post. “Thank you. That was...good.”

      “Really?” Tori smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

      “I haven’t had biscuits like that since Mom...well, in a long time.”

      Tori wrapped her arms around her waist. “Actually, I made them using your mom’s recipe that Aunt Claudia had.”

      “You made these?” Jake held up the bag. “But...” Jake’s voice trailed off. No sense in bringing up the past.

      “I know. I used to burn toast. But I’m not that same girl anymore, Jake.” She searched his face, almost as if she was begging him to believe her.

      Jake stared at her, feeling himself being pulled in by those eyes. He drank in her smooth skin, the faint sprinkle of freckles she always tried to cover with makeup and her parted bare lips.

      The wind toyed with the stray hairs, brushing them across her cheek.

      He fisted his hand to keep from touching her.

      Westley nickered and pawed the dirt, jerking Jake’s attention away from Tori.

      He scrubbed a hand over his face and reached for the saddle pad he’d laid over the fence. He carried it over to Buttercup and smoothed it over her back. He ran a hand over her neck, and then he looked at Tori. “Mind checking out the farm on horseback?”

      “Kind of late to be asking that, aren’t you?” She tossed him a grin and reached for the saddle. She carried it over to Buttercup, rested it on the horse’s back, then made quick work of cinching the girth straps. She dusted off her knees and petted the horse. “Thanks to the summer camps my father sent me to, I can hold my own.”

      Jake checked the tightness.

      Tori rested a hand on his forearm. “Jake, I’ve been riding since I was a kid. I know what I’m doing.”

      Reaching for the pommel, Tori put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself into the saddle. The leather creaked as she seated herself. Buttercup back-stepped and nickered against the weight, tossing her mane. Tori leaned forward, whispered something in the horse’s ear and patted the side of her neck.

      Jake СКАЧАТЬ