A Gift of Family. Mia Ross

sturdy work clothes. Several versions of the denim shirt Gus wore hung on a rack beside jeans and steel-toed boots. The prices were reasonable, which told Seth the owner recognized how much money his customers had to work with and made sure they could afford to shop in his store.

      “Browsing?” Lisa asked from behind him. When Seth turned, she laughed. “Please don’t tell me you’re seriously thinking of buying clothes here.”

      “Maybe.”

      “We have some nice stores in town,” she went on. “Just wander up and down Main Street and you’ll find pretty much everything you need.”

      Seth looked at the racks, then back at her. “Jeans, shirts, boots. What else is there?”

      She groaned. “You sound like my brothers.”

      “Is that bad?”

      “Mostly.”

      When she smiled, he realized she was teasing him, and he felt himself loosen up a little. Apparently, she’d gotten past her earlier frustration with him. While he didn’t do it on purpose, he knew his reticence made it impossible for strangers to warm up to him. He appreciated her cutting him some slack.

      “They sound like my kinda guys.” He put a little extra emotion into the comment so she’d know he wasn’t a robot. He wasn’t sure why that mattered to him, but it did.

      “Oh, you’d love them,” she assured him. “And my brother-in-law, too. Men’s men, straight through every strand of their mulishly stubborn Y chromosomes.”

      Seth laughed. The way she rolled her eyes was so cute, he couldn’t help it. The wattage on her smile actually increased, and he had a tough time paying attention to what she was saying to him.

      “...actual shoes, shirts made of something besides denim, a sweater or two,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “You know, things to wear when you’re not working.”

      Seth couldn’t recall the last time he’d chosen his own clothes. When he was younger, Mom took care of all that. Then he’d worn one type of uniform after another. Lately, it was Mom again, because he didn’t have the inclination to do any more than reach into a drawer for something old and comfortable to wear.

      Until today, he hadn’t cared much whether they even fit or not. He wasn’t sure why it mattered all of a sudden, and he decided it was best not to examine it too closely.

      “I’ll think about it,” he said, steering her away from the clothing.

      While his very entertaining companion chattered on about designer wallpaper borders, Seth hummed over the price of a new table saw. Not bad. Maybe he could barter some handyman help to Gus and get a discount. Then once he got settled somewhere, he could set up a carpentry shop and start making things again.

      Appealing at first, the idea quickly turned Seth’s stomach, and he sighed. Looking down at his hands, he flexed his left arm, testing the scar that ran along his chest and circled his shoulder. It still wasn’t completely healed, but he knew he was lucky to have his arm. Thinking of that horrific injury always led him back to the afternoon that had changed his life forever. He’d done his job that day, and by all accounts their mission had been a success. But on a personal level, it had cost Seth far more than he could afford to pay.

      Very firmly, he shut the door on those memories. He couldn’t do anything about the past, and these days his future was on pretty shaky ground. So that left him with the present. Sometimes he felt stalled, as if his life had stopped moving forward. The trouble was, he had no clue how to get it going again.

      He loved his parents, but their constant worry had become suffocating. When Aunt Ruth had asked for his help, he’d jumped at the chance to come to Harland. He was hoping a change of scenery would help him get his life back on track.

      If that didn’t work, he was out of ideas.

      Chapter Two

      When Lisa arrived at the diner for her shift the next day, lunch was in full swing. So were Seth’s renovations. Trying to blot out the constant screech of his circular saw overhead, she bopped from table to table refilling drinks and making sure everyone had what they needed. Around noon, she helped Ruthy prepare standing orders for the contractor’s crew that was rehabbing the Harland Courthouse, a quaint old building that had stood in the center of town since before the Civil War.

      Then, because their busboy was up to his elbows in dishes, Lisa piled the cartons of food and drinks onto one of Ruthy’s catering carts and rolled the whole shebang down the street. The twenty-dollar tip the guys insisted on giving her more than made up for the extra trouble.

      As she strolled back into the diner, she realized the sawing had stopped. In its place she heard the sound of hammering, and she wondered if it was time to buy herself some earplugs.

      “That boy just doesn’t stop,” Ruthy muttered, shaking her head. “He’s been at it since eight this morning.”

      Having been raised on a farm, Lisa could appreciate anyone who put that much effort into something. Aggravating as her brothers were, she admired their willingness to work at a job until it was done. Whatever flaws he might have, Seth’s devotion to his task earned him a healthy dose of respect from her.

      “He should have something to eat.” She ladled up some of Ruthy’s famous Irish stew and dropped in a spoon. Setting the bowl on a small serving tray, she added a thick hunk of soda bread. “Does he like sweet tea?”

      Ruthy’s withering look told her that was a stupid question, and Lisa laughed as she poured him a glass of it. “I’ll take it up to him. Be right back.”

      To her surprise, Ruthy stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Thank you, honey.”

      “It’s just food.”

      The older woman looked confused, then gave her a sad smile. “That’s not what I meant. I’m grateful to you for being nice to my boy.”

      Intrigued, Lisa asked, “What was he exactly? I mean, we see lots of veterans in here, but none like him. What happened to him?”

      Ruthy didn’t respond, and she tried again. “He was a Navy SEAL.” Nothing. “Black ops. No, wait, he was a spy.”

      “I really can’t tell you,” her boss confided while she banded a stack of twenties for the deposit. “I don’t know.”

      “But he was military. I could tell that as soon as I laid eyes on him.”

      Ruthy’s eyes flicked up to her, then back to the money she was counting.

      “Has he always been so frustrating?” Lisa asked, feeling a little frustrated herself.

      Finally, her boss stopped fanning bills and looked directly at her. “Seth is a wonderful, caring man who’s been through things you and I couldn’t begin to comprehend.”

      Of course, Lisa thought with a mental forehead slap. Post-traumatic stress disorder. That explained his odd reactions to everyday occurrences, his hesitation with her when she was just trying to be friendly. He came across as cold and withdrawn because his emotions were literally frozen inside him.

      “That’s so sad. I don’t know much about PTSD, but I could do some research online. Maybe if I understood it better, I could—”

      “PTSD,” Ruthy scoffed, which was very unlike her. “That’s the least of his problems. Seth has lost his faith.”

      “In what?”

      “Everything. Anyone he hasn’t known his entire life, and even some people he used to know well.” Her voice had started to tremble, and she firmed her chin in an obvious attempt to keep back tears. “He thinks God deserted him.”

      Lisa couldn’t imagine the closed-off handyman confiding that to anyone, not even his adoring aunt. “Seth told you that?”

      Eyes glistening with