Precious Blessings

There was Jack Munroe with a vase of white rosebuds cradled in his hands.

“These are for you, to say thank you. I owe you an apology,” Jack said.

“Please, don’t worry. It was understandable given the circumstances.”

Katherine had to move closer to accept the bouquet, close enough to notice he didn’t wear a wedding ring. Not that she should be noticing. Not that she wanted to.

“You’re generous to say that. Needless to say, I don’t take criticism of my daughter very well.”

“I wasn’t criticizing her. Just trying to make things right. Everyone makes mistakes, especially teenagers.”

How could he have gotten it so wrong? The woman wasn’t high and mighty, she wasn’t righteous and judgmental. She was amazing. And if he stood here one second longer and kept this conversation going, then he was going to make a huge mistake.

JILLIAN HART

makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she loves to read, go to lunch with her friends and spend quiet evenings with her family.

Precious Blessings

Jillian Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

—Galatians 5:22-23

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“Go on, do it.” The barely audible whisper skimmed over the tall aisle of displayed greeting cards on the other side of the store.

Ordinarily, there was too much noise in the Corner Christian Book Store to hear a low, private conversation. But with the heavy February snowfall tumbling just outside the Spring Is Coming front window display and the fact that most of the customers had hurried through their shopping and left for home when the snow began falling in earnest, the whispering was almost too loud in the quiet, nearly empty store.

Katherine McKaslin didn’t stop her work straightening and restocking the greeting-card display, but she did look around. The last time she’d heard those words whispered in the store, someone had been shoplifting.

Two teenage girls stage right, between the crystals case and the humorous greeting cards. They giggled softly, their heads bobbing together to tell secrets. All Katherine could see of them over the chin-high displays were the tops of their heads. One had a tuft-like hairdo of orange spikes, and her friend had blond hair streaked with blueberry strands.

Ah, teenage rebellion. It was a stage she’d missed entirely, which was probably why she was thirty-two and still single. She’d always been stuck in the same rut. There was comfort in the familiar.

Whenever she got an impulse to color her hair—not orange or blue—and maybe add a few highlights to her plain blond locks or wear shoes with more than a sensible one-inch heel, it was short-lived. What would her family think? How would she explain it?

They’d probably say, that’s not like you, Katherine, what’s gotten into you? And so here she was, thirty-two and working in her parents’ store, wearing sensible low-heeled shoes and a black blazer, blouse and skirt that suited a conservative businesswoman. Ever since she’d been a teenager, she’d been afraid of making mistakes.

“I’ll be back,” Spence, her brother, called as he shrugged into his nicest coat. “Send prayers and positive thoughts.”

“Already done.”

With a chime of the overhead bell, the door swished shut behind Spence and she was alone on the floor. She swung her gaze back to her work, pressing down serious worries over the store’s worsening financial situation. Her stomach tightened with dread, but before she could send a prayer on Spence’s behalf, a blur of movement caught her eye.

There, in the corner security mirror, she had a perfect view of the blue-haired girl slipping something inside her oversized purple book bag.

Oh, no. You aren’t shoplifting, right? Katherine waited, pulse thumping, hoping against hope the teen was reaching for her cell phone. Or maybe the girl was checking where she’d left her keys. Customers did that all the time.

But even as she searched for other possibilities, Katherine knew gut-level that it was serious. One look in the mirror showed the empty spaces in the crystals case right in front of the door. The door that should have been locked. Sure enough, the blue-haired teenager had just made a colossal mistake.

Go on, kid, put the figurines back. That would be the best outcome for everyone involved, she thought as she crossed the floor calmly to the counter. Give the girls the chance to do the right thing.

It had happened before in situations like this and it could happen again. She stared hard at the top of the girls’ heads and wasn’t surprised when the blue-haired girl looked up. Katherine couldn’t tell the girl’s exact expression beneath the layers of mascara, thick black eyeliner and shadow, but she thought she saw a flash of fear before a brittle hardness settled into a cold-eyed stare.

Okay, maybe not the nicest girl on the planet, but she didn’t look like the worst, either. And that brief flash of genuine emotion was telling. The girl wasn’t well practiced at stealing. Maybe she wasn’t a hardened criminal just yet.

“Put them back, please.” Maybe the please had been a little too polite. That was another one of her problems. “Return the figurines or I’ll call the police.”

Those hard eyes widened in horror. In a split second both girls dashed around the display case, and raced toward the door.

Big mistake. This was not what she wanted. Katherine took off after them, heart heavy, as the detectors went off. The girls flew out onto the sidewalk. Another few seconds and they’d be lost in the thickly falling snow.

Kelly slung open the break room door. “What’s wrong?”

“Shoplifters. Call the cops.”

Trusting her best employee to make the call, Katherine hurried out into the storm. The blast of the cold January snowstorm struck her like a brick wall. She swiped the wind-driven snow from her face. Which way had they gone?

North, into the storm and in the direction of the high school, judging by the fresh sets of boot prints. The veil of snow thickened, and they were gone from her sight. Right along with about two hundred and fifty dollars in merchandise she suspected.

Great. Katherine dropped to a walk, lost in the swirling snow. It wasn’t the financial loss to the store that bothered her. Those girls were on a troubled path. The police were on their way, and it was out of her hands now. Too bad, because she knew how devastating the consequences of a single act could be.

Watch over them, Lord, she prayed. Those girls would need all the help they could get.

“They’re on their way,” Kelly’s voice called through the storm. “Katherine? Are you out here?”

“Yes, thanks, Kelly. Go back inside where it’s warm.” Too bad her toasty and sensible goose down coat was hanging neatly in the break room closet. She could really use it about now. Her teeth chattered; she was already an icicle. There was no sense chasing after the girls in this cold, not when she had no chance of catching them, since she was probably the slowest runner in the world.

Best to head back inside and wait for the—

A flash of blue shot through the thick veil of snowfall. The police? Were they already here? Talk about a quick response. Lights strobed dully, but the vehicle had stopped somewhere in the middle of the parking lot. Had they caught sight of the girls?

The beam of red and blue faded. Didn’t they usually leave those on? She couldn’t see a thing, the storm was whipping up into whiteout conditions. Then a girl’s voice rose above the wind just up ahead and Katherine rushed toward the sound.

“Hurry, Dad!” One of the girls’ voices rose above the wind. “We gotta get outta here right now. Uh…cuz we’re totally freezing.”

Perfect. The dad had come to pick up the girls, and she could fix this right now. Speak with the man responsible for his shoplifting teenager. Not that she liked confrontations, but this had to be done. She wasn’t sure what had happened to the police cruiser, but the slam of a door told her she was running out of time. Hurry. She could still catch them.

Suddenly, shadows materialized from the shroud of falling snow. She recognized the shape of a patrol car, the taillights glowing faintly red as it idled in the lot. She had a perfect view of the blue-haired teenager sheltered in the front passenger seat, but she couldn’t see the driver.

“Officer?”

No response, but the blue-haired girl’s shocked face filled the front passenger window. The vehicle eased forward.

“Officer! Wait!” She couldn’t believe her eyes. They were actually getting away? What kind of police were the city hiring? Men who covered up crimes for their daughters?

Oh no you don’t, mister. Sometimes it paid to be ultra-organized—although some people might call it slightly compulsive. She whipped her pen and notepad of sticky notes she always carried with her out of her pocket and ran after the car, squinting at the faint license plate numbers. Once she had them safely noted, she huffed to a stop and slipped the note and pen safely into her pocket.

The taillights stopped, barely more than a faint glow in the thick curtain of snow. Thank goodness, he’d stopped. Now she could straighten this out, even if her chest was knotted up so tight she couldn’t breathe. She really hated confrontations, but she could handle this.

How on earth should she handle this? If this was the responding officer and he was the father of one or both of the girls, then he was going to be upset, naturally. She didn’t like upset men, but then, who did? She took a steadying breath. Lord, help me find the right way—

Was it her imagination or were those taillights coming closer? Wait, the rear bumper was definitely rushing toward her. She stopped running, but her heel slid forward on the ice. She skated right at the approaching license plate. He was going to hit her.

Tires squealed and the vehicle stopped. She thudded against the car, stopping her forward skid with her hands against the end of the trunk. Her knee struck the bumper of the car. Pain shot through her kneecap.

A tall shadow of a man emerged out of the snowfall and loomed over her, as big as a grizzly. “What is your problem, lady? I almost hit you. You can’t go running at a moving vehicle. What’s wrong with you?”

She opened her mouth but no words came.

He halted, towering above her with what had to be over six foot three inches of brawny, powerful man. His baritone boomed like thunder. “Are you hurt?”

He was kind of scary, and her knees wobbled. She opened her mouth again and to her surprise a word actually came out. “Y-yo.” Too bad it was a word that didn’t make any sense.

“Do you need help? Detox?”

Maybe it was his judgmental tone or the derisive lift of his upper lip, but her shock melted away like ice under hot water. “Excuse me? I certainly have never needed anything close to detox. When my sales associate called 911 for assistance, this isn’t what we had in mind. An officer doesn’t usually help the perpetrators escape the scene of the crime. What kind of cop are you?”

Wow, was she being assertive or what?

“I’m the off-duty kind of officer on his way home after a bad shift. And that means I’m in a horrible mood.” He put his hands on his hips, emphasizing both the breadth of his iron shoulders and the shadowed gun holstered at his hip. “Now, why did you run at my vehicle?”

“I was writing down your license-plate number. I told you. We called in a shoplifting incident.”

“You’re not in any danger?”

“Well, no. Not since you got out of your car.”

If that made a dent in his one-track line of thought, she couldn’t see it. He was more shadow and substance in the heavy storm, and the snow didn’t touch him.

“Look, I’m a state trooper, not a town cop. This isn’t my jurisdiction. Why don’t you go back into your little store and wait for the proper authorities to show up. And stay away from moving vehicles. You could have gotten hurt.”

Wow, she didn’t like condescending, self-important men. And it had been a while since one had made her so angry so fast. “I don’t need a big strong man like you to tell me that. What I need is for you to bring your daughters back to my store—”

“Daughter. The other girl isn’t mine.”

“The blue-haired girl stole two collectible figurines from my store.”

“No way, lady.”

“Are you listening to me? You just aren’t getting this through your head, are you?”

Why me? Jack Munroe swiped the snow from his eyes. He wished he could rub away his exhaustion as easily. He was beat, and he’d reached his tolerance quota for the day. The last thing he needed was a high-and-mighty woman like the one standing before him, all judgmental righteousness. He’d used up his patience for dealing with that kind of woman when he’d been married. “You’re not in any danger?”

“No.”

“Is anyone else in any danger?”

“Uh…no.”

“Did you hurt yourself when you ran into my patrol car?”

“No.”

“Fine. I don’t know why you’re so confused, but I’ve had a hard day. I’m not going to deal with this nonsense, not right now. I suggest you go back inside before you freeze and wait for the local cops to come take your report.”

He watched as the woman reached into her slim skirt pocket. Not for a weapon, no, but a hundred-dollar pen and small notepad. She began writing furiously, pausing to sweep off the fat snowflakes that landed on her dainty pink pad.

Leaning in, she squinted at his chest. She was tall, and in the dusk of the storm, her light hair gleamed like platinum. “Your badge number. Now, your name would be…?”

She didn’t look delusional and psychotic, not for a woman who was standing in an arctic storm in a designer suit and glaring up at him like a hungry reporter ready to jot down crucial information on her square pad of sticky notes. She didn’t look confused, but efficient and organized.

Maybe that was the clue he’d overlooked. He was just dog-tired. He still couldn’t understand why she’d run at his car. She wasn’t in danger and she wasn’t in trouble. “Look, lady, sorry if I missed something. You need help with some shoplifter?”

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“I just finished a double shift, lady. I’m dead on my feet.”

“I’m sure it’s difficult for a father to hear—”

“Don’t listen to her, Daddy.” Hayden popped out of the car and gave him a wide-eyed Bambi look.

Apparently, she’d forgotten about the shocking things she’d done to her face and her hair. And where did she get those clothes? She looked like a thrift shop had exploded on her. He gaped at his daughter, his little girl, and could not see her beneath the layers of thick makeup. A clown wore less makeup.

“We didn’t do anything wrong, honest, Daddy.”

It was that uh-oh feeling in his gut that kept him from believing her flat-out. One question drilled through his tiredness. What had he missed? There was clearly some misunderstanding on the part of this store clerk.

The sound of an approaching car and the wan glow of headlamps had him turning to look over the snow berm in the center of the parking lot. Thank heaven above. “There are the local uniforms to your rescue.”

And mine, he thought.

“Fine. Are you coming or not?”

“Now why would I do that? Hayden, get back in the car.” He meant to take a step back, but it was as if some unseen force held him in place. “You go get the help you obviously need. Good night, ma’am.”

Katherine felt her blood pressure soar into the red zone so fast the top of her skull throbbed. “Sure, go ahead and run off. I have the information I need and I’m sure those nice officers will be in contact with you, Trooper…? What’s your last name?”

“Munroe. I hope you get this straightened out.”

“I will, but I am sorry for your daughter’s sake. Sadly, this happens even in a Christian bookstore, and while I’m very faithful and forgiving, a crime is a crime.”

Katherine watched the lawman’s granite hands fist tight. She felt his gaze sharpen on her like a blade aimed and ready.

“A Christian bookstore?” The trooper’s dark brow arched upward. “Hayden, tell me you didn’t do this. You didn’t shoplift. And not from a Christian bookstore.”

There it is, Katherine thought, the possibility cracking through the denial. Good, she’d rather take care of this now, the right way. “Mr. Munroe, I’ll see you inside.”

She left father and daughter to settle their problems and hurried through the storm to greet the officers climbing out of their cruiser. With every step she took her emotions cooled and she felt the bite of the frigid wind.

And regret.

Chapter Two

This was the last thing he needed right now. Jack swept the white stuff off his hat brim as he watched that bookstore lady disappear into the thick curtain of snow. It had been a long time since he’d disliked a woman so much so fast. He couldn’t say why he had such a strong reaction to her—other than the fact that she’d accused his only child of a crime. Not that she was right about it.

No way, he thought, shaking his head, knocking more snow from his brim. Not his Hayden. Her friend, maybe. Now Jan, he’d believe hands down, was a shoplifter. She was the problem, a problem he was going to take care of right now.

“Daddy, how can you even think that? I didn’t steal whatever she was talking about. She just wanted to blame us. I don’t know why.”

Why was it that whenever he looked at his daughter, he looked past the teenager he hardly recognized to the little sweet thing she’d used to be, five years old with her arm around her favorite doll, running to greet him at the door when he came home from work?

You have to face the facts, man. She’s not five anymore. The more Jack looked, the more he recognized Heidi in that look. In fact, it troubled him deeply that with every passing day, his daughter was acting out the grief of her mother’s death. While time had dulled his sharp grief, it hadn’t seemed to do the same for Hayden.

He had to get control of this situation, put his foot down about the kind of friends Hayden had, and maybe get her involved in church activities. He’d been meaning to join a church, but ever since they’d moved to Bozeman six weeks ago, he’d had his hands full juggling crisis after crisis.

Maybe it was time to let a few things fall and take his daughter to church because he had every intention of keeping her on the straight and narrow. She obviously needed it if this was the type of trouble her new friend was into.

“That store lady is just mean, Daddy.”

“Get back in the car.”

“But Daddy, you don’t believe her, do you?” Big innocent eyes stared up at him.

His heart melted. Again, he still saw his sweet little girl. The trouble was, he also saw a strange teenager staring up at him with his Hayden’s eyes, while wearing clown makeup and rock-video-star clothes.

A momentary flash of rage turned his vision red, blurring everything. Her doe-eyed expression, the rapid blinking that told him she was lying. Man, was he mad. Yep, Hayden was covering for her friend. And he was going to come down on them both like a ton of bricks.

No more makeup. No more unsuitable clothing. He did not approve of this. Red hazed his vision again. Is this how she went to school? Had she been like this all day? How long would it take to change back into the nice-looking, decent girl he was used to seeing? She had to wash the blue out of her hair. Her appearance had to be a temporary thing so that she could wash the makeup off her face, climb back into the clothes she was supposed to be wearing and he’d never know the difference. If he hadn’t stopped by to check on her earlier, he might not have caught this version of his daughter.

Fury wasn’t the word. He set the rules and he expected them to be followed. No arguments. No exceptions. No excuses. “Get in the car.”

“Good, ’cuz Jan has to be home by four-thirty.” She dropped into the front passenger seat and shared a smug look with her friend in the back seat.

Okay, what was up? Whatever it was, his instincts told him he wasn’t going to like it. As he folded his lengthy frame behind the wheel, he already knew what he had to do. He had to get this straightened out fast.

“Did you see her shoes?” Jan asked Hayden. “I think those shoes went out of fashion in 1942.”

Hayden giggled. “And did you see her skirt? She could be a nun in that skirt.”

Okay, he was seeing red again. “Enough. Show some respect. Now I want you to apologize to the store lady and give back whatever it was that you stole from her.” He caught Jan’s gaze in the mirror as he negotiated through the parking lot. “Got it? Or you’ll be in more trouble than you know what to do with. I’ll make sure of it.”

“It’d be hard to do, since I didn’t steal.”

“It’s true, Daddy. She didn’t take anything.”

Lord, I’m gonna need a little help here. He parked next to the townie’s patrol car in front of a lit storefront. Welcome to the Corner Christian Bookstore was written in tasteful black script across the double glass doors. The troubled feeling in his gut went from a squall to a full-out hurricane.

“Daddy, you can’t stop here. You said we were going to take Jan home.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You don’t want Jan to get into trouble with her mom.”

Where had his sweet little girl gone? He stared in shock at the stranger in his passenger seat, and saw the same look his wife gave when she was annoyed. Whatever was going on, he planned to nip it in the bud.

He killed the engine. “You girls are going to do the right thing.”

“What right thing?” Hayden acted as if she didn’t have the slightest clue what he was talking about.

He couldn’t believe she’d do something so wrong as to shoplift. It was out of the question. She knew better. He’d raised her better than that. Even though he could plainly see her unsuitable clothes and makeup, he had to cling to that truth. He couldn’t take it if he lost Hayden the way he’d lost his wife.

He studied Jan in the rearview mirror. Yep, there was a flash of anxiety stark on her face. So, it was just like he figured. She was the problem. Relief coursed through him. “You girls bring your book bags and come with me. We’ll get this straightened out with the bookstore lady.”

“But I’ll be late gettin’ home,” Jan piped up.

He wasn’t fooled; he could sense the fear amping up a notch. “Don’t you worry. I’ll talk to your mom if she has a problem. This won’t take more than a few minutes. Now march.”

He figured being late home was about to be the least of Jan’s problems.

The late-February storm hit him like the dead of winter. He hadn’t acclimated yet to this much colder climate. It hadn’t helped that he’d been out in this weather all night. As a new member to the state’s ranks, he’d pulled swing shift and would be doing that for the next year at least, before he could hope to move to a day shift. He was exhausted, but he didn’t mind working nights or in this bitter cold, not when he considered how good this move was for his daughter.