The Hero's Sweetheart Read online

  “Is Ash that skyscraper-tall blonde who looks like a mix between a James Bond spy stunt woman and a Venice runway model? Wears Marilyn Monroe hair and drives a black Hummer?”

  “That would be her.”

  “Oh, Frankie’d be all over that, believe me.” Patrice rolled her eyes.

  Jack studied Olivia, who appeared to squirm. She ought to know tall, leggy blondes were no longer his type.

  His new and only type?

  He was looking right at her.

  He tried to catch her gaze, to smile and reassure her. But she avoided his eyes.

  He fixed her another cup of coffee, just the way she liked it. Then he pulled up a chair next to her, letting his knee rest against hers. She may not have needed the contact but he did.

  He felt relief when she didn’t pull away.

  “Thank you,” she said, sipping her coffee.

  After a moment, a gleam entered her eyes. “Jack, if we can raise the rest of the money, will you reconsider not selling the diner?”

  Jack’s gaze settled on Olivia. He reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. “The last thing I want to do is sell the diner. But I can’t imagine raising that kind of dime in six days.”

  She squeezed his hand in return and turned that luminous smile on him. He could swear he forgot to breathe.

  “Reminding you that God can do quite a bit in one week’s time. You know, like create the whole wide world and everything in it?” she said.

  Jack grinned. “Point taken. You have six days, Olivia. But don’t keep me in the dark.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You promised not to keep him in the dark,” Patrice said to Olivia a week later.

  “I never promised,” she said while opening her trunk. “And since when do I always do what Jack tells me?”

  “Since mostly never.”

  “Right. So, let’s go over the plan again,” Olivia said.

  Patrice put the bolts of material from the donation center in her trunk. “We take this satin, velvet and lace to a woman who makes elaborate costumes for the fund-raiser ball. Local seamstresses will donate their time and people will buy the costumes. The money is being donated to the diner. Lauren, whom you trained under at EPTC, is the head seamstress. It was her idea.”

  So many things were coming together. Streams of revenue and rivers of generosity.

  Olivia just hoped and prayed it would come through in time.

  “Do you miss him, Olivia?”

  Jack had flown to Washington, DC, for a four-day meeting with military officials about Syria. Something about tying up loose ends.

  Patrice had suggested that perhaps Jack was there to pass off his duties to someone else, so he could come home for good. Olivia wanted to believe that was true, but she felt selfish in doing so. Still, her heart yearned for it to be true. Jack had texted once but she hadn’t heard from him after the first day.

  Either he was forgetting about her, or he was up to something.

  Patrice and Olivia headed for their daily visit to the assisted-living facility where Sully had been moved. He was enjoying it immensely because many of the residents were longtime diner patrons and old buddies. When they got there, Sully was working on a puzzle with a group of ladies. He wore his new voice-activated speech box around his neck. He had come a long way, but still needed help to regain all he’d lost. He hadn’t lost his will or his spirit though, thankfully.

  Patrice grinned. “He looks so happy here.”

  Olivia couldn’t agree more.

  Sully saw them and motioned them over. “Hey, my girls are here!”

  At a swat from one of the elderly women at the table, Sully switched that to, “Errr, I mean my other girls. My daughter-like girls. Not my girlfriends.”

  Olivia grinned, knowing God had picked the perfect place for Sully to bloom in the next season of his life. As the ruckus started around the table, she studied the faces, the Bibles and the smiles, and gave thanks.

  “Say, how’d you two pull off paying enough money to the bank to convince them to postpone foreclosure?”

  Olivia was glad that Sully hadn’t taken it too hard when Jack had had to tell him about the diner debt and how it had come about.

  Sully continued, “The loan officer came by today to tell on you two.” Tears filled his eyes. He didn’t bother swiping them away, and his attempts to be scolding and surly just weren’t very effective with the big grin that had taken over his face.

  Olivia sat. “Word somehow got out that the diner needed help. All the people you and your family have helped over the years came through for you, Sully.”

  Patrice pulled up a chair on the other side of him. “Almost everyone in town’s been coming to the diner multiple times a day. We can barely keep up.”

  “Even weirder, they all started paying triple on their meals, in addition to lavish tipping.”

  “Even the mayor’s wife?” Sully’s eyes bugged.

  “Yep. I think she instigated a lot of it, in fact.”

  All week, businesses had been ordering their meals from the diner. Perry had even come back to work and he’d been a tremendous help and a blessing. It was clear he’d cleaned up, thanks to Jack.

  “And the big news is that library owner Lem Bates asked me to tell you that he’s donating the proceeds of this year’s annual Library Storybook Ball to the diner.”

  “Oh, awesome! But, wait. The ball isn’t until Saturday. We need the remaining money in two days.”

  “I’ve talked to the bank. They said if we can get ten percent of the remaining thirty thousand, they’ll extend the deadline until after the Storybook Ball. They know Lem’s good for it. With the help and support of the community, the ball raises gobs of money every year for different charities and causes.”

  “And the diner will be saved.” Sully beamed.

  Olivia nodded, joy bursting forth. “Looks like it.”

  Patrice blinked back tears and she hugged Sully. “I’m so sorry again. I can’t say it enough.”

  “You have. You made a mistake, but you’re making it right. I love you. Unconditionally.”

  She wrung her hands. “I don’t know how you don’t hate me.”

  Sully slung his arm over her shoulder and drew her nose to nose. “Because fathers don’t hate their daughters. Now let it go and forgive yourself, like the Bible says.”

  Patrice hugged him and breathed pure relief, then said with a thankful voice, “I enjoyed church Sunday. I’m going to jump ahead of Jack and formally join.”

  With everything in chaos, he hadn’t had a chance to officially join yet, but had been attending regularly with Olivia.

  “He’ll be right on your tail, trust me.” Sully smacked at a resident who tried to nab one of the corner pieces Sully hoarded for the puzzle.

  Olivia laughed.

  Sully gazed at her in a fatherly manner. “And what about you and Jack?”

  “I think I blew it.”

  “Oh, you didn’t.” Patrice patted Olivia’s hand.

  “He’s barely talking to me.”

  “Maybe he’s preparing to come home for good and make a life with you,” Sully said out of the blue. Now why would he just up and say something like that?

  A strange little twinkle lit Sully’s eye before he winked at Patrice.

  What was up with those two? Did they know something Olivia didn’t?

  The suspense was about to kill her. Unfortunately her doubt and fear were giving it a good run for its money.

  “Or maybe he’s trying to prepare to let go so he can go make a life without me for good.”

  “Olivia, have hope.” Patrice hugged her.

  “What should I do?”

  “You said it yourself. Give him an irre
sistible reason to stay.”

  “I have the perfect idea,” Sully announced. “Invite him to be your date at the ball.”

  “Yes, perfect!” Patrice clapped, then she grinned. “The theme for this year’s Storybook Ball is Unlikely Allies.”

  If anything more accurately described Olivia and Jack and the bumpy beginning they’d shared, “unlikely allies” did.

  Suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

  “Fine. I’m texting him the invitation now.” She practically broke out into a sweat doing so. He didn’t answer, but he may not be able to if he was in a top-secret meeting or location. For once, Olivia chose faith over fear, despite the fact that she knew too much about being let down.

  “He’ll be home the day of the ball, his flight arrives two hours prior. Pray there are no delays.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Was he ever going to arrive?

  After the third dance, the announcer said he had a local hero who wanted to say a few special words. Her heart sped, hoping...

  Sully was grinning beside her.

  “What?” Olivia shook her head at him.

  Where was Jack? She checked her watch. His plane had been late. Was he okay?

  “Olivia, look.”

  She looked up to see Jack walking up the steps of the stage. He looked so handsome dressed in Air Force blues that it took her breath away.

  When he got onstage, everyone in the room stood to honor him and welcome him home.

  With the help of new intel and his experience, he’d helped coordinate the capture of the insurgent who’d arranged the ambush on his unit, and Jack had been able to do so without stepping boots to the ground overseas. Olivia had not stopped thanking God since she’d heard the news.

  Tears flooded her eyes and she wanted to rush up and take him down with a hug.

  But this was a special moment. He was this year’s guest of honor and he deserved it.

  Smiling, she stood with the rest of the room looking at him with absolute adoration.

  After receiving his award, Jack thanked everyone in Eagle Point and the surrounding communities for pulling together to save the diner. He then helped his dad onto the stage and Sully also received a standing ovation for stellar town service and sacrifice.

  After the crowd calmed, Jack gazed across the room, directly into Olivia’s eyes.

  “I want to give a shout-out to a special lady here tonight. Olivia, can you come up here?”

  Her heart began to pound as she rose to new applause and walked toward the stage. This was Jack’s moment. Why was he sharing the spotlight with her?

  She didn’t like being the center of attention. Funny, considering all her tattoos and piercings.

  Once she got to the stage, Jack took her hand and then he dropped to one knee, and produced a beautiful pewter and diamond ring—one with tiny elegant silver and black studs reflecting her rocker-girl flair.

  Olivia gasped, completely blindsided.

  He pushed the microphone away to make the moment intimate. A hush fell over the room. “Olivia, when I came back to Eagle Point, I only felt like half a man. You make me whole. I feel like you’re the better part of me. You’re the future I long to live for. Let’s make it official. Let’s make this love last forever. You know I love you, right?” he whispered.

  “Yes. But what about your career?”

  “I was miserable being away this week—from you, Dad, the hometown we love, the diner and even church. If I couldn’t last four days, I knew I’d never survive another tour of duty without my heart leaving its post. So I knew it was time to retire. My honorable discharge went through this morning. I’m officially here for good.”

  “I’m so happy,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Will you make me the most thankful guy in creation? Will you marry me?”

  She hugged him so hard he almost fell over. “I will! Oh, Jack. I love you so much! I got the better end of this deal!” she exclaimed to another round of clapping, cheers, whistles and applause.

  Clearly, the audience figured out he’d proposed and she’d accepted. As they exited the stage, people came up to congratulate them, Sully among the first. They spoke at length with him, then endured teasing from the diner crew.

  Then Jack tugged her hand and whispered as a romantic ballad came on, “Come share this moment with me.”

  After celebrating with a private dance on the light-strung patio under a sparkling array of stars, Jack led Olivia to the curb.

  “Your carriage awaits, my love.” His mouth twitched. “Unfortunately, they were out of Fords.”

  She saw the OFFICIAL CHEVY CARRIAGE...and burst out laughing, knowing the God of joy would hem them, two unlikely but loving allies, in between His guiding hands, all the days of their lives.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS SECRET CHILD by Lee Tobin McClain.

  Dear Reader,

  One of the toughest challenges I face as a storyteller is writing characters whose parents were abusive to or neglectful of them growing up. My parents were none of those things and the more I hear of the hardship some go through as a result of family dysfunction, the more I realize how fortunate I was in the parents God gave me. No parent or family is perfect of course, but I pray for you, dear reader, that no matter what, you know you have a place in the family of God. May you know His love and mercy, and know that there’s hope for your future.

  If you enjoyed spending time in fictional Eagle Point, other books in the series are listed on my website, cherylwyatt.com, where you’ll find order links, series lists and a newsletter sign-up for freebies, new book release news and other goodies exclusive to subscribers.

  I love my readers and cherish interaction at facebook.com/CherylWyattAuthor. Hope to see you soon!

  His Secret Child

  by Lee Tobin McClain

  Chapter One

  Fern Easton looked at the fire she’d just built, then out the window at the driving snow, dim in the late-afternoon light. She shivered, but not because she was cold.

  No, she was happy.

  Two whole weeks to herself. Two whole weeks to work on her children’s book in blessed peace.

  As soon as she’d gotten home from the library, she’d shucked her sensible slacks and professional shirt and let her hair out of its usual tidy bun. Threw on her softest jeans and a comfortable fleece top. Next, she’d set up her drawing table in the living room of her friends’ house.

  House-sitting was awesome, because out here on the farm, no one would bother her.

  Out here, she had a chance to fulfill her dream.

  From the back room, her four-year-old daughter crowed with laughter over the antics of the animated mice and squirrels on the TV screen. Her daughter. Some days, Fern couldn’t believe her good fortune.

  She’d fed Bull, the ancient, three-legged bulldog she was babysitting as a part of the house-sitting deal. Puttering around like this, feeding an animal, taking care of her sweet child, was what she wanted, and determination rose in her to make it happen full-time.

  She’d create a fantasy world with her books, and in her life, too. She wouldn’t have to deal with the public or trust people who’d inevitably let her down. She wouldn’t have to come out of her shell, listen to people telling her to smile and speak up. She wasn’t really shy, she was just quiet, because there was a whole world in her head that needed attention and expression. And now, for two weeks, she got to live in that world, with a wonderful little girl and a loving old dog to keep her company.

  She practically rubbed her hands together with glee as she poured herself a cup of herbal tea and headed toward her paints.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  She jerked at the unexpected sound, and
worry flashed through her.

  “Hey, Angie, I know you’re in there!”

  Fern felt her nose wrinkle with distaste. Some friend of the homeowners. Some male friend. Should she answer it?

  More knocking, another shout.

  Yeah, she had to answer. Anyone who’d driven all the way out here in a snowstorm deserved at least a polite word from her before she sent them away.

  She opened the door to a giant.

  He wore a heavy jacket and cargo pants. His face was made of hard lines and planes, only partly masked by heavy stubble. Intense, unsmiling, bloodshot eyes stared her down. “Who are you?”

  Whoa! She took a step backward and was about to slam the door in this unkempt muscleman’s face—she had her daughter’s safety to think about, as well as her own—when Bull, the dog, launched his barrel-shaped body at the door, barking joyously, his stub of a tail wagging.

  “Hey, old guy, you’re getting around pretty good!” The man opened the door, leaned down.

  “Hey!” Fern stepped back, then put her hands on her hips. “You can’t come in here!”

  The guy didn’t listen; he was squatting down just inside the door to pet the thrilled bulldog.

  Fern’s heart pounded as she realized just how isolated she was. Never taking her eyes off him, she backed over to her phone and turned it on.

  “Where’s Troy and Angelica?” The man looked up at her. “And who’re you?” His voice was raspy. Dark lines under his eyes.

  “Who are you?”

  He cocked his head to one side, frowning. “I’m Carlo. Angie’s brother?”

  Her jaw about dropped, because she’d heard the stories. “You’re the missionary soldier guy!” She set her phone back down. “Really? What are you doing here?”

  His eyes grew hooded. “Got some business to conduct here in the States. And I’m sick.”