Hearts In Bloom

He caught Jessica to his chest, muscular arms wrapped protectively around her. She’d never felt such relief in her life. Suddenly there was a sense of completeness where there had been a huge void.

“What on earth is wrong?”

“The wedding is less than nine hours away, my work crew just canceled and I can’t even begin to tell you what’s at stake today. I know I don’t deserve it, but if you’ll help me, Drew, I promise I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”

He smiled, dimple and all, and guided her to the sidewalk.

“Let me make a couple of phone calls. I’ll meet you in the Commons in five minutes.”

He ran his hand down the back of her hair as she turned to walk away.

A glance over her shoulder sent a thrill of hope through her heart. He was still watching, tenderness etched in his features.

MAE NUNN

grew up in Houston and graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in communications. When she fell for a transplanted Englishman who lived in Atlanta, Mae hung up her spurs to become a Southern belle. Today she and her husband make their home with their two children in Georgia. Mae has been with a major air-express company for twenty-five years, currently serving as a regional customer service manager. She began writing four years ago. When asked how she felt about being part of the Steeple Hill family, Mae summed her response up with one word, “Yeeeeeha!”

Hearts in Bloom

Mae Nunn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In his heart a man plans his course,

but the Lord determines his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9

For my precious Maegan, who gave up so many

Saturday outings so her mama could write. For my

critique partner, Dianna, who is a gift straight from

heaven. For my friend Larry, whose incredible story

inspired me to get it started. And for my husband,

Michael, who makes it all worthwhile.

Dear Reader,

Five years ago I was amazed by the true story of a Green Beret’s survival after dropping 40,000 feet with a defective parachute. I was compelled to spin a tale around this real-life hero and I wanted to create an equally special heroine for him. A woman with a real-life body and all the real-life fears that go along with it. Picture me getting started: a laptop on my bathroom counter, my faithful dog draped across my lap. After two years of watching me spend my weekends in the bathroom, my very own handsome hero transformed a closet into a workspace, and I became a “real writer.”

My self-imposed rule was not to write anything that would offend my mother or my daughter. Try as I might, I couldn’t ignore the call to do more, to use my words to glorify our Heavenly Father. Hearts in Bloom is my debut Love Inspired novel. I hope spending time with Jessica and Drew blesses you as much as writing their story has blessed me. Share your thoughts when you visit me at maenunn.com.

Until next time, let your light shine.

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 One

Dirt.

There was just something so appealing about dirt.

Jessica Holliday couldn’t remember a time in her twenty-six years when she hadn’t been fascinated by the stuff and the miracles it generated. She breathed deeply of its comforting smell and lightly massaged the site of her knee injury.

Atlanta’s top orthopedic surgeon had performed the anterior medialization, grafting bone and marrow, inserting titanium screws and closing the knee with thirty-five staples. But no amount of medical skill would ever restore full strength to her leg.

A small price to pay, considering Adam Crockett was lost forever to his grieving family. A family who blamed her for his death.

At least she had the chance to start again. She’d planned better than her mother, who’d ended up with no education and a child to support after her ex-military husband had abandoned them. Thanks to a green thumb and a very tight budget, Jessica had learned something besides dance. She could design, plant and tend gardens of all kinds, and the proof covered the ten-acre campus of Sacred Arms.

Sitting cross-legged in the shade of six-foot-high fuchsia and white azalea bushes, she admired the beds in bloom. Tall clusters of purple iris and feathery, light pink plumes of astilbe surrounded her. Fragrant bunches of lavender waved in the warm spring breeze.

An afternoon sun glinted through the shady gardens of the town-home complex and she ducked her head to avoid the momentary brightness. Her downcast eyes were drawn to her hands, to the nails that were in desperate need of a manicure. The fashionable mid-town salon had probably figured out months ago that she wouldn’t be keeping her regular appointment any longer.

She’d kept her nails maintained only out of responsibility anyway, hating the busy metallic clicking of the clippers and the rough filing and the smell of acrylic. But a principal performer for the Atlanta Dance Theater could hardly greet supporters with soil under her fingernails. Now the trace of dirt beneath her short nails was a welcome sight.

How quickly priorities could change. One moment she had been navigating the dark highway, the next she’d been blinded by the overhead lights of the operating room.

From where she sat, Jessica had a clear view of the security gate. It swung open to admit a fancy white sedan that pulled a little too quickly into the parking lot. That could mean only one thing. Valentine was late to meet a prospective buyer.

With the always immaculately dressed real estate agent close by, Jessica paused to consider her own attire. She surveyed the baggy sweat suit, stained with everything from mulch to mustard. She needed new clothes desperately, but refused to acknowledge the result of her sixty-pound weight gain in such a permanent manner.

From outside the gates, a sports car’s too-loud engine growled. A shiny blue car glided to a stop beside the sidewalk and a hulk of a man rose from the car and stepped into the sunshine. Standing ramrod straight, he surveyed the community of private town houses. With an arm raised to shield his eyes against the glare, he appeared to salute.

Jessica scoffed at the memory it evoked. Her worthless father had teased her mother with a similar gesture on the rare occasions when he’d meandered through their lives. The braided rug beside Jessica’s childhood bed had worn thin where she’d knelt. Prayers for her father to stay with them had gone unanswered, so she’d given up on prayer altogether.

She wagged her head to shake off the daydreaming, a thick ponytail swishing about the neck of her shirt, and swiped at her forehead with a dirty hand.

With an aluminum cane tucked beneath her arm, she returned to the task of fertilizing the prizewinning azaleas. She scooted backward across the grass to the next spot needing attention, eased over, careful to avoid the still-mending leg, and returned to work.

Drew Keegan had emerged from the shady interior of his perfectly restored ’67 fastback into the afternoon sun. He stood, hand raised to block the glare, admiring the grounds of Sacred Arms. In many ways the property, located in the historic Grant Park district of Atlanta, still had the look of the 1920s Christian school it had once been.

“Very interesting.” He spoke aloud to himself.

Making the scene even more interesting, the same white luxury car that had blown past him on the interstate was now pulled to the curb farther inside the gate.

The driver swiveled to the left, extending shapely legs. She offered an appealing view of cream-colored stockings that led to a fashionably short, pale pink linen skirt.

Just as he realized the long, low whistle came from his own lips, the matching pink jacket appeared and above it a charming face, sporting a devilish smile.

“Dahhhlin’! You must be Drew. How sweet of you to make a pass at a woman old enough to be your mama.”

The woman was actually old enough to be his grandmama, but she’d probably never look it as long as there were good plastic surgeons in Georgia.

“Ms. Chandler?” Drew had a terrible suspicion that he was blushing, something he’d rarely done in his adult life. “Please accept my apology, ma’am. I don’t know what possessed me to do such a thing.”

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t help yourself. I’ve always had that effect on handsome young men.”

Realizing she was quite serious, he accepted that he was excused for having no control over his own actions and reached to shake the brightly jeweled hand she offered.

“I appreciate you meeting me so late in the afternoon, Ms. Chandler.”

“Please call me Valentine, and it’s no problem at all. Besides, Sacred Arms is so beautiful this time of day, don’t you agree?” She extended her right arm in a sweeping gesture, as if presenting the property for his approval.

The sun played off the colorful Tennessee fieldstone, producing every shade of brown, gold and orange. Fighting for attention were the beautifully restored stained-glass windows that had been painstakingly assembled three quarters of a century earlier. The enduring images of Christ welcoming little children, blessing the fishes and loaves, talking with the woman at the well and praying at the garden at Gethsemane glowed beneath the warm rays.

Father, could Your will for my life be any more obvious? Thank You for guiding me to this special place, he silently prayed.

Drew let his gaze wander from the structure that had been the chapel and sweep the rest of the spacious compound. There were four primary buildings that had been converted into living space. The fifth, containing an extraordinary copper-domed rotunda, was what Valentine had described over the phone as the Commons.

“I know it’s warm out here and you’d like to visit the models, but let’s just take a minute to walk around back so you can see the gardens. A good friend of mine, a precious girl, really, grows the most amazing plants in this old red clay.”

They approached a waist-high stone wall. Behind it, a bright bed of tall azaleas graciously set off the gray river rock. As they rounded the end of the wall, his eye caught some movement beneath the blossoms.

Expecting to see a house pet enjoying a roll in the grass, he was surprised to witness the grass-stained backside of a woman slowly emerge as she scooted precariously out of the bushes on her hands and one knee. Her left hand clutched a bag of fertilizer spikes. Her right hand reached for a cane.

“Jessica, dahhhlin’, there you are. Come and meet the gentleman who’s about to buy a home here.”

Trained for years to embody grace, Jessica found herself in the most ungraceful position of her life. She stopped her backward crawl, face pointed toward the foliage, back end toward the unexpected visitors, and ground her teeth at the unwanted interruption. With her damaged knee, rising quickly to recover from the embarrassing introduction was simply not an option. She folded her good leg beneath her, dropped to her hip and turned to face them.

Smiling down at her from a towering height was one of the biggest men she’d ever seen. No doubt the guy was part of a major football team’s defensive line. She didn’t mean to give him the once-over, but from her position she couldn’t help but take him in from the bottom up.

Expensive loafers peeked from beneath well-tailored khakis. His chest and shoulders were broad, arms well developed, neck thick and jaw very square. A silly Rhett Butler mustache twitched above a smiling mouth, while warm hazelnut eyes clashed with military-issue, close-cropped dark brown hair.

“Ms. Jessica Holliday, may I introduce Captain Andrew Keegan. He just moved here from Virginia and is hoping to make Sacred Arms his new home. Jessica, Drew was a Green Beret.”

Oh, great, Rambo for a neighbor!

The judgment must have shown on her face. His smile disappeared, stealing with it the slight dimple in his left cheek. But the intense look in his eyes never changed. He glanced from her face down to the cane and back again.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He leaned from the waist and offered her his hand.

She took it and they shook briefly. When she tried to release his strong grip, he held fast, an offer to support her weight if she wanted to stand. She considered staying where she was, but decided the disadvantage of her present position was worse than accepting help.

He maintained their grip as she reached for the cane. He squatted, taking a firm hold on her right elbow with his left hand. Fixing her eyes upon his, she nodded, a signal to stand. With him as the anchor she rose to her full height, taking care to lean on her right leg gently until the aluminum support was planted firmly at her side.

Drew took in every nuance of the effort, along with the rest of her, as well as he could without appearing to be completely without manners for the second time that hour.

She was much taller than he’d expected, with a full figure, although it was difficult to tell much about her shape under her rumpled, ill-fitting clothes. Beneath the smudges of red clay she had clear, fair skin. She was pink from the sun or the exertion or possibly embarrassment.

Her makeup-free eyes held a familiar glare. He couldn’t quite make out what she was telling him with it. He knew only they were the most enchanting shade of emerald he’d ever seen. He was tempted to remove the sprig of hedge perched in the bangs that were many shades of blond.

She snatched her hand free.

Defiance. That was the look. He’d seen it so many times in the eyes of new recruits that he should have recognized it immediately.

“Jessica, honey, I believe these purple delphiniums are gonna be even more spectacular than last year. If that’s possible,” Valentine observed.

“I think you may be right. But it’s probably because they’ve had so much more attention this season.” As she spoke to Valentine, Drew noticed that Jessica rubbed her hand on a stained pant leg, cleaning off any traces of his touch.

“Are you the groundskeeper here?” he inquired.

“I suppose that’s what I am now.” She glanced at her dirty nails and back again.

“You must have help.” He could tell from the way her eyes narrowed she’d taken the comment as an insult. “I mean, it’s such a large campus, so much variety. It would be hard for anybody to tend all this alone.”

Her chin jutted forward at the observation.

“I’m stronger than I look right now,” she insisted, “but I always manage to find some willing hands for the heavy stuff. A service details the lawn, but it’s all under my direction. I’ve intentionally put in lots of perennials, and the rock garden takes care of itself.”

“Sugar, don’t you dare downplay the miracles you’ve done with this place.” Valentine stepped close and looped her arm through Jessica’s, linking spotless linen with grimy fleece.

“Why, you should have seen it before she took over a few years back. The hedges were full of bag-worms and there wasn’t a flower in sight. What you see now is this sweet child’s magic touch.”

Lush green fescue grounds were studded with terra-cotta containers filled with myriad colorful springtime blossoms. With a soft sound, dripping water fell from a Japanese-style bamboo fountain into a small shallow pond. Freestanding island beds gave the illusion of space even in the angular corner of the property. She’d carved out kaleidoscopes edged in rough stone and large boulders.

Nodding his approval, Drew appreciated the extraordinary breadth of knowledge along with the eye for design and balance it must have taken to produce such an inviting place.

“My mother would have been jealous,” he said. “She didn’t have the touch herself and could never find hired help capable of producing anything quite like this.”

Jessica bristled at the compliment. He wondered for the millionth time in his life why it was so hard to find the right thing to say to a woman.

“Thank you,” Jessica muttered. “I think.”

Drew admired the creeping ivy on the rock wall, pretending to miss the annoyance in her voice. He turned to face her, smiling once again, and extended his hand.

“It was nice meeting you.”

“My pleasure. And welcome to Sacred Arms,” Jessica replied without warmth. She looked as if she hoped his credit was bad.

“I’m so glad we ran into you, dahhhlin’,” Valentine interjected. “You’re getting around beautifully. It’s obvious that your little physical therapist is doing you a world of good.”

Before Jessica could respond, a yapping ball of white hair came racing down the incline, a bright blue leash flying behind it like a superhero’s cape. Suddenly the animal sat back on his haunches and threw out all fours as it slammed to a halt against Drew’s ankles.

He bent to give full attention to the pup as it quickly recovered, eagerly pawing dirty front feet at recently laundered khakis.

“Hey, buddy, you live around here?” With one hand Drew ruffled short ears covered with long silky hair. With the other he casually but firmly removed the dog’s paws from his knees. Too late. The damage was already done. Signs of the animal’s afternoon frolic in the spring grass would be on those slacks through numerous launderings.

Jessica half hid a smile behind her hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry. He’s mine. Frasier, heel.” She spoke the command and pointed to the ground by her left foot. The dog stopped his happy sniffing only long enough to give her a curious glance. Again she snapped her fingers and pointed.

“Frasier! Heel!”

Even though the dog showed no inclination to follow instructions, Drew released the pup’s paws so he could obey. Frasier made several quick and surprisingly high jumps, leaving even more stains on the front of Drew’s starched khakis.

“Frasier, heel.” The male voice was low and calm, but left no doubt who was in control. The little dog responded immediately, made a quick turn and stood at attention by Drew’s left heel. “Good boy.” The two beamed approval at one another as if they’d practiced the trick a hundred times.

“It figures,” Jessica said, annoyed. “I’ve been working with him for weeks and all he does is run around me in circles. But for a complete stranger, the little traitor behaves like he’s just come from the kennel club.”

Valentine spoke up. “That little cutie is Jessica’s new physical therapist. She’s moving around so much better since he came to live with her.”

“You mean since he showed up on my doorstep and refused to leave, don’t you?”

Her tone implied aggravation, but the look she gave the hairy pup said otherwise.

She gestured toward Drew’s slacks. “I’m really sorry about your pants,” she said, struggling to contain a smirk.

“I’m an old pro in the laundry room.” He shrugged and brushed at the marks.

“I never mastered that area myself,” she admitted.

Drew bent toward the waiting dog, collected the blue leash, handed it to her with a smile and said, “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

Jessica climbed the hill slowly, but faster than she had a month ago. Frasier really had helped. His constant demands for attention had forced her out of survivor guilt mode, off the couch and back into the sunshine. Back to the gardens, where she couldn’t resist the call of crabgrass. It was like a siren, tempting her to bend, reach, pull and then to find a way to gather up the mess and haul it away.

Like most able-bodied people, she’d taken the ability to perform those simple tasks for granted. Not anymore. Valentine said Jessica was blessed, but if that meant losing your career and killing a man in the process, God could keep His blessings.

As Frasier tugged at the leash, urging her on, she turned her face upward, enjoying the sun on her cheeks. The warmth suddenly deepened as she realized Rambo could still be watching. Just as quickly, she shrugged off the thought. Why would a handsome guy give her a second glance? And even if he did, the view from where he stood was certainly not much to see.

She snorted laughter at her own cruel joke. There was plenty to see. In this red sweat suit she must resemble the broad side of a barn.

Drew couldn’t resist watching as she trudged slowly up the incline. Red had always been his favorite color. Even filthy, it was perfect with her fair complexion and those challenging eyes.

“That precious girl has been through a lot in the past few months. But she’s a fighter.”

He turned his attention to the older woman. “I noticed.”

“Shall we get on up to the models? I know you’re anxious to see our homes.”

“I’d like that. And thank you for showing me the gardens. Everything I heard is true—they are magnificent.”

Taking the lead, Valentine sashayed up the long stone path, putting one small, fashionable pump in front of the other.

“Well, they’re a real source of pride. The landscaping is a special touch we think adds so much to the beauty of the property. We considered replacing the vegetable beds with a basketball goal.”

She waved her hand in that direction and sunlight danced off the many diamonds on her fingers and wrist. “But most of our residents objected. They enjoy the option to hoe a row of their own if they like, and Jess keeps the older folks up to their elbows in tomatoes and summer squash. Why, that girl can fling cantaloupe guts into her compost heap and accidentally grow melon better than anything that was planted on purpose.”

She tilted her platinum head back and smiled up at him in a beguiling way. “You’ll see.”

They reached the formal terrace and took a path lined with yellow-leaved hostas.

“Let me show you the three-bedroom model, Drew, honey. I’m certain this is exactly what you’re looking for,” Valentine said as she fitted the key into the lock. She swung the door wide and stepped aside.

He fell for the high ceilings, red oak floors, stark white walls and old-fashioned louvered windows in less time than it took to rotate a set of tires.

“Would you mind if we went to your office now?”

“Drew, dahhhlin’, we can do whatever you like,” she murmured agreeably.

She led him toward the end of the common hallway. Valentine stepped carefully around a bag of potting soil that had tipped over and spilled out onto the otherwise spotless floor. She appeared not even to notice, much less mind.

A door stood wide open and pop music, mingled with excited yapping, flowed from inside. He felt like a snoop for peering in as they passed, but he was naturally curious about his new neighbors.

Where the empty unit he’d just seen had appealed to him in its monochromatic, uncluttered state, this one couldn’t have been more different, more colorful or more alive with…stuff.

From behind a wall of potted ficus trees, a blur of white fur flashed into view, triumphantly dragging an empty plastic tray that had once held bedding plants. In an instant the plastic was forgotten. The animal charged the doorway.