Hometown Hope

  He’ll do anything for his daughter...

  Even fight to regain an old classmate’s broken trust.

  In the three years since her mother’s death, widower Hoyt Bradley’s daughter, Jess, hasn’t spoken—until she suddenly begs him to save her favorite bookstore from closing. Hoyt is desperate to hear his daughter’s voice again, but he and the bookstore’s pretty owner, Anna Delaney, share a less-than-friendly past. Working together is complicated enough...but can they avoid falling in love?

  “Can’t we take Miss Anna flying, Daddy?”

  Hoyt glanced in the rearview mirror to see Jess leaning forward, her face pleading. As he watched, his daughter’s gaze shifted briefly from him to Anna. “Please?”

  Anna’s gaze fastened on to his for a second, then she turned to look back at Jess. “Are you asking me to go up in that plane, sweetie?” Hoyt held his breath as Jess hesitated.

  “Yes.”

  It might have been the softest whisper Hoyt had ever heard, but it was definitely an answer. Jess was talking to Anna.

  But the joyful relief that surged up in him was mixed with fear. Everything he’d prayed for hinged directly on what Anna did next.

  He caught her green eyes with his and tried his best to communicate silently. Please, Delaney. This matters. Please don’t say no. Not now.

  He could tell Anna understood him. She instantly went about five shades paler, but she managed a choppy nod. “Well, fine, then. Since you’re asking me, Jess.”

  Hoyt’s heart swelled with gratitude—and guilt. “Are you sure?”

  “No,” she muttered, pushing open the truck door. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

  Laurel Blount lives on a small farm in Middle Georgia with her husband, David, their four children, a milk cow, dairy goats, assorted chickens, an enormous dog, three spoiled cats and one extremely bossy goose with boundary issues. She divides her time between farm chores, homeschooling and writing, and she’s happiest with a cup of steaming tea at her elbow and a good book in her hand.

  Books by Laurel Blount

  Love Inspired

  A Family for the Farmer

  A Baby for the Minister

  Hometown Hope

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  HOMETOWN HOPE

  Laurel Blount

  He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.

  —Psalms 147:3

  For the fabulous four: Rebecca, Jackson, Joanna and Levi—with all my love.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from The Amish Widower’s Twins by Jo Ann Brown

  Chapter One

  Uh-oh.

  Anna Delaney stopped doodling frowny faces and dollar signs in the margin of her notebook and tilted her head, listening. Sure enough, an all-too-familiar rustling was coming from her bookstore’s storage room. Smothering a groan, Anna dropped her head down on the checkout counter with a thump.

  The possum was back.

  How was that even possible? Two weeks ago, when she’d finally caught the skinny-tailed varmint in a live trap baited with peanut butter, she’d driven him fifteen miles out into the country before setting him free. She hadn’t seen him since, and she’d hoped he was the one problem related to this store that she’d actually managed to solve.

  Apparently not. The animal must’ve liked living in Pine Valley, Georgia, a lot more than she did.

  Anna heaved a sigh and started to get up. Then she pressed her lips together, sat back down and picked up her pen.

  On second thought, that possum could stay right where he was.

  She always kept that door locked, so there was no way he could sneak in here or into her loft apartment upstairs. Another early June thunderstorm was brewing, and if the stubborn animal wanted to spend his Friday night nice and dry amid boxes of paperbacks, Anna wasn’t going to argue with him.

  Pretty soon he wouldn’t be her problem anymore. Today, after months of sleepless nights and unanswered prayers, Anna had finally come to terms with the inevitable. Pages, Pine Valley’s one and only bookstore, was going out of business.

  She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around how this had happened. Pneumonia had ended her father’s long struggle with Alzheimer’s only three months ago. Now this store—the retired principal’s legacy to his beloved community—was fading away, too. And his only daughter, a woman with two completed university degrees and three-fourths of a PhD, hadn’t been able to stop it.

  It was downright depressing—not to mention humiliating. And to make matters worse, her hopes that her struggles were going unnoticed had been dashed this afternoon.

  The minute Trisha Saunders had walked through the door, Anna had known something was up. Her former high school classmate owned Buds and Blooms, the flower shop next door, but she’d never bothered to visit Pages before.

  Trisha had her five-year-old and several of his day care classmates in tow.

  “Go find a book for Jimmy,” she’d instructed her son. “I’ve been so swamped at work I totally forgot to pick up a birthday present for him, and I don’t have time to run to a toy store now. A book will have to do. The rest of you can help look, and then we’ll go on to the party.” The children had begun pulling books off the shelves, but when Anna had headed over to help, Trish had stopped her with one perfectly manicured hand. “Don’t worry about them, Anna. They can find the book by themselves. I want to talk to you about something.”

  Then she’d tugged Anna aside and made an offer on the bookstore. Or more accurately, the building that housed it.

  Trisha’s tone had been almost as insulting as the amount she’d offered.

  “You won’t get a better deal,” Trisha had said, casting an appraising look around as the children played a shrieking game of hide-and-seek among the shelves. “This space needs a lot of updating. I wouldn’t touch it myself if our two buildings weren’t attached. Besides, everybody knows you’re holding on by your fingernails. Now that your dad’s dead, why not just sell this store and move on with your life?”

  Now that your dad’s dead. The nonchalant way Trisha had tossed off that horrible phrase cracked across Anna’s sore heart like a slap.

  She doesn’t know, Anna had reminded herself. Trisha’s parents were still both living. She had no idea what it felt like to lose the only family you had in the whole world.

  “Obviously running a business isn’t your strong suit, Anna,” Trisha had continued in a patronizing tone. “Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing? I mean, weren’t you taking some high-level university classes or something before your dad got sick?”

  “I was working toward a PhD in literature. Well, British literature, actually. I—”

  “Whatever.” Trisha had interrupted Anna’s explanation with an impatient shrug. “Sell the store to me, and you can go back and finish that up. It’s the perfect solution all the way around. So, how soon can you have all this junk cleared out?”

  An
na had felt a flash of indignation. Books weren’t junk. But she’d held her tongue. Based on her personal experience—and her sales figures—most people in Pine Valley agreed with Trisha. “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

  “Well, don’t take too long. I need to get all this settled before my other new addition comes along.” Trish had patted her round baby bump with a self-satisfied smile.

  Remembering that little smirk, Anna scribbled so hard that the point of her pen tore through the notebook paper.

  Back in high school Trisha had scraped by academically, spending her weekends partying while Anna had spent almost all her time with her nose stuck in some textbook. Now Trisha was balancing a booming business with a picture-perfect growing family. Meanwhile Anna “Brainy” Delaney, valedictorian and triumphant winner of the Hayes scholarship, was living alone above a bankrupt bookstore, sharing her peanut butter with a possum.

  Life certainly hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected.

  A sudden clap of thunder boomed, causing the walls of the hundred-year-old building to shudder. Glancing up from her scribbles, Anna caught a quick glimpse of Pine Valley’s town square through the wide store window before the downpour started. She sighed and set down her pen.

  She’d better crank up the dehumidifiers. Damp seeped into the cracks of this old building, warping books and condensing on the inside of the windows.

  So much for her idea of staying open late in the hopes of drumming up an extra sale or two. Nobody would be out in this weather. She might as well lock up, go upstairs and start researching all the logistics involved in closing a bookstore.

  She sure hoped that would turn out to be easier than running one.

  Anna flipped the sign in the door’s window to Closed and twisted the grudging bolt into place. After flicking off the lights, she picked her way through the dim store, pausing at the checkout counter just long enough to snag an empty coffee mug and, after a second’s guilty hesitation, her bookmarked novel.

  She wouldn’t read long, she promised herself. Just a few minutes.

  A half hour, tops.

  Blam! Blam-blam-blam!

  Halfway up the steps to her apartment, Anna whirled around as another flash of lightning lit up the darkened store. A man stood at the door, his face pressed against the glass, pounding on it with one clenched fist.

  Anna yelped, dropping both her coffee mug and her book. The lightning flickered again, and when she caught her second glimpse of the man, her fear morphed into annoyance.

  Oh, for crying out loud.

  That was Hoyt Bradley. Since the man had never voluntarily opened a book in his life, Anna had no idea what he was doing banging on the door of a bookstore in the middle of a storm, but he wasn’t going to kill her.

  Well, not unless he was planning to aggravate her to death.

  Hoyt made an impatient what-are-you-waiting-for gesture through the glass, and Anna rolled her eyes. Then she stepped over her broken mug and stalked back down the steps toward the door.

  Hoyt had always been as stubborn as a mule. She didn’t know what he’d come for, but he wouldn’t leave until he got it. She might as well deal with him now. Anna flipped the lights back on and slid the bolt free.

  Hoyt lunged into the shop, rivers of rainwater sluicing off his broad used-to-be-a-football-star shoulders. “Is she here?”

  “You could’ve given me a heart attack banging on the door like that! And watch what you’re doing! You’re flinging water all over my Jane Austens.” Anna grabbed one sodden shirtsleeve and tried to tug Hoyt away from the classics she’d hopefully arranged in a display near the entryway.

  It was like trying to move a boulder. Hoyt didn’t budge. “Is she here, Anna?”

  “Is who here? Hoyt, seriously, you’re soaked through, and you’re getting water everywhere. Do you even own an umbrella?”

  Since he obviously wasn’t going to move, she’d better scoot the cardboard display stand out of the puddle he was creating.

  “Anna, please.” As she turned away, Hoyt reached out and caught her upper arms, his wet hands chilling her bare skin. Her pulse skittered out of rhythm as memories flooded her brain.

  She’d sat knee to knee with Hoyt Bradley every afternoon for eight months during her junior year in high school. Every single time his leg had accidentally brushed hers, her pulse had done the same ridiculous thing.

  She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She should have outgrown this nonsense.

  Apparently she hadn’t.

  She glared up at him, her cheeks stinging hot, poised to twist out of his grip and give him a generous piece of her mind. What she saw brought her up short.

  Hoyt’s handsome, square-jawed face was pale, and raw fear widened his hazel eyes. Right then all those silly oh-my-word-he-touched-me butterflies fluttering in Anna’s stomach fell horribly still. Something was wrong.

  Nothing scared Hoyt Bradley.

  “Where’s Jess?” Hoyt ground out the question, and Anna’s eyes widened. He was looking for his five-year-old daughter.

  “I—I don’t know,” Anna stammered. “I haven’t seen her. I mean, I saw her for a little while this afternoon. She was with that group of kids Trisha was taking to Jimmy McAllister’s party.”

  “When?”

  “I...I don’t remember, exactly.”

  “Think.”

  He was still holding her arms. She wished he wasn’t, because it made thinking a whole lot harder. She swallowed and tried to focus.

  “They came in a little after three, and they stayed until almost four thirty.” During which time they’d pretty much destroyed her children’s area, while Trisha tried to convince Anna to accept one-third of her building’s value. “What’s going on?”

  “Did you see Jess leave with Trisha?”

  Anna did her best to remember. Finally she shook her head. “I assumed she did. But of course, she’s so quiet—” She broke off, darting a quick look up into Hoyt’s face.

  Everybody in Pine Valley knew that little Jess Bradley hadn’t spoken a single word since her mother’s death almost three years ago. Everybody also knew it wasn’t a topic you discussed with Hoyt.

  “Anyway,” Anna continued after an awkward second, “she must have gone with the rest of them because she’s not here now. I’ve been all alone for the past couple of hours. Oh, no.” The worried lines grooved into Hoyt’s face suddenly made sense. “Is Jess missing?”

  * * *

  Missing. His Jess.

  Fear slammed into Hoyt like a three-hundred-pound linebacker. Let me find her, Lord, he prayed silently. And keep her safe until I do. Please.

  “All I know is I can’t find her. I went to pick her up at the McAllisters’, and she wasn’t there. Trisha took Jess from day care with the rest of the kids, but she can’t seem to remember where she lost track of her.” He couldn’t wrap his mind around that, but right now he had to stay focused on finding his little girl.

  He’d deal with Trisha Saunders later.

  “Oh, Hoyt.” Anna’s ice-green eyes warmed with sympathy, but the change didn’t make him feel better. If Anna Delaney was feeling sorry for him, things were even worse than he thought. “You must be worried out of your mind.”

  Yeah. Pretty much. He ran one hand impatiently through his wet hair. “I thought she might be here with you. She likes this place.” That was an understatement. Jess was crazy in love with this store. She tugged him in here every time they passed by, and she never wanted to leave.

  That was why he’d been hoping...

  “She’s not here, Hoyt.” Anna’s forehead was creased with concern. “Do you think you should go talk to the sheriff?”

  “I’m headed there next.” He couldn’t believe this had happened. If Marylee were still alive...

  But she wasn’t. The grief he’d lived with for three long years stabbed him li
ke a broken rib. It did that sometimes. Mostly it was just a dull ache these days, but every now and then it flared back up and sucker punched him.

  Especially when he felt like he was flunking single fatherhood big time.

  Like now.

  But he couldn’t waste precious time feeling guilty. Not until he found Jess.

  “I’ll go talk to Sheriff Towers. If you see her—” He’d started to turn toward the door, but he froze, listening. His eyes locked with Anna’s. “I thought you said you were alone.”

  “I am. That’s nothing. Just a silly possum I can’t keep out of my storage room.”

  “Maybe not.” Hoyt shouldered past Anna and headed in the direction of the noise.

  There was only one door at the back of the store. He tried the knob, but it was locked. He shot a questioning look at Anna.

  “I’ll unlock it.” Anna moved to the checkout area and started opening and shutting drawers, riffling through their contents with hurried fingers. “But I’m telling you, it’s nothing but that stupid possum. I can’t get rid of him.”

  Hoyt’s fear, mixed with his newfound hope, made him vibrate with impatience. He needed to know right now if Jess was in that room. “Could you hurry this up, Anna?”

  “Hang on a second. I know the key’s here somewhere because I used it just a few hours ago. I moved some breakable items in there when the kids got wild playing hide-and-seek, and— Oh!—” She stopped, her eyes wide. “I unlocked the door while they were here,” she said slowly, “for just a few minutes.”

  That was all Hoyt needed to hear. He wasn’t waiting for any key.

  “Jess, baby, if you’re in there, move to the back of the room. Okay?”

  He reared back and kicked the door. The flimsy lock broke instantly, and the door flew so wide that it banged against the wall like a gunshot.

  And there she was, his little girl, crouched on the floor. She blinked up at him like a startled baby owl.

  Hoyt crossed the room in two strides and swept his daughter up into his arms. Pressing her against his chest, he closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her baby shampoo.