Everyday Blessings. Jillian Hart

Corey could see the woman—Aubrey—through the garden window. His opinion of women was shaky these days, due to his experience with the gender. But he could see how this woman was different.

      Maybe it was the soft, thick, golden fall of sunlight through the glass that diffused the scene, like a filter on a camera’s lens. That soft brush of opalescent light touched her blond hair and the porcelain curve of her heart-shaped face, making her look like rare goodness.

      Or, maybe it was the child in her arms, clinging to her with total trust and need. Whatever the reason, she looked like innocence, pure and sweet.

      Stop staring at the woman, William, he told himself and shook his head to clear away all thoughts of her. He popped the crew-cab door of his truck. Sweat dampened the collar of his T-shirt and the black knit clung to his shoulders as he lifted the wrapped frame from his rig. Across the street, a miniature dachshund came racing down from its front porch to bark and snarl, teeth snapping. It halted at the edge of the curb, glaring at him with black beady eyes. Someone shouted for it to shush and the little fellow kept barking, intent on driving William away.

      “Yeah, I know how you feel, buddy,” he said to the dog, who only barked harder in outrage. William didn’t like strangers, either. He’d learned how to chase them with off with a few gruff words, too.

      As he circled around to the open garage, he caught sight of the woman in the window, framed by the honeyed sheen of the kitchen cabinets. Washed with light, caught in the act of kissing the little toddler’s downy head in comfort, she looked picture perfect.

      His fingers itched for his camera to capture the moment, to play with light and angle and reveal this pure moment of tenderness. It had been a long time since he’d felt this need to work—since Kylie’s death. It took all his will to drag his gaze from the kitchen window and force his thoughts away from the woman. His days of holding a camera in his hands were over.

      “So, mister.” The boy stood in the open inner door between the garage and the house, a lean, leggy little guy with too-big Bermuda shorts and a shocking-green tank top. His brown hair stuck straight up as if he’d been struck by lightning. Tear tracks stained his sun-browned cheeks and had dampened his eyelashes. “That’s a present, huh?”

      “For your mom.” William softened the gruffness in his voice. He liked little kids, and he figured this one had enough hardship to deal with.

      He leaned the framed photograph, carefully wrapped, against the inside wall safely away from the garbage cans and the lawn mower. “I’ll just leave it here, alright? You make sure your mom gets it, okay? With all you’ve got going on in your family, it might be easy to forget this is here.”

      “I never forget nuthin’.” The little boy said with a trembling lip. He gave a sigh that was part sob, sounding as if he were doing his best to hold back more tears. “My daddy’s sick in the hospital.”

      “I’m real sorry about that.”

      “Me, too.” The kid sniffed once.

      William had questions, but he didn’t know exactly what to ask. An illness? That didn’t seem right; Jonas was the type of guy to hit the gym three times a week without fail. Not that William knew him well.

      The little boy looked so lost, holding on to the doorknob with one hand, as if he were hanging on for dear life. What on earth should he say to him?

      William stood in the shadows of the garage, as still as the boy, feeling big and awkward and lost. He’d been alone too long, out of the world so long that he wasn’t used to making small talk with adults, much less a little boy.

      “I miss my daddy. You haven’t seen him, have ya?”

      “No. Sorry.” William could feel the kid’s pain—it seemed to vibrate in the scorching heat. The silence stretched until it echoed in the empty rafters overhead. “How long has he been in the hospital?”

      “A l-long time.” The boy scrubbed his left eye with his free hand. “For-ev-ever.”

      William had a bad feeling about this, a strange reeling sense of the present lapping backward onto the past. “How old are you, kid?”

      “I’m gonna be this much.” He held up his whole hand. “Daddy’ll be well, cuz he’s takin’ me to the f-fair. He prom-mised.”

      William studied the fat gleam of two silver tears spilling down the boy’s cheeks and felt the sorrow of his own past. Things didn’t always turn out well, stories didn’t always end happily, and ill loved ones didn’t always recover.

      Maybe that wouldn’t be the case for Jonas.

      Faintly, from inside the house, came the woman’s—Aubrey’s—voice. “Tyler, close the garage door and come try to finish your supper, okay?”

      Tyler hung his head and didn’t answer. His pain was as palpable as the shadows creeping into the garage and the heat in the July air.

      “You’d better go,” William said, ambling toward the cement driveway, where birdsong lulled and leaves lazed in the hot breeze and the dog across the street was still yapping with protective diligence.

      “Mister?”

      The little boy’s voice drew him back. William stilled. Even his heart seemed to stop beating.

      “You could p-pray for my daddy so he can come ho-me.” Tyler scrubbed his eyes again, took a step back and closed the inner door.

      Leaving William alone in the heat and the shadows with an ache in his chest that would not stop.

      Chapter Two

      Aubrey breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the inside door snap shut and Tyler plod across the linoleum. One problem down, and now she’d move to solving the next.

      “Just eat something,” she said softly to him, brushing her fingertips through his hair as he wove past her.

      “Okay,” he said on a sigh and halfheartedly climbed back up onto his chair.

      Madison gave a hiccup and relaxed a little more. Good. Aubrey stood in place in the center on the kitchen, gently rocking back and forth, shifting her weight from her right foot to her left. The stinging tracer of pain fired down her left femur, as it always did when her leg was tired, but Aubrey didn’t let that stop her, since Madison’s breathing had begun to slow. She became as limp as a rag doll. Her fingers released Aubrey’s shirt, so the collar was no longer digging into her throat.

      Aubrey sent a prayer of thanks winging heavenward and pressed another kiss into the baby’s crown of fine curls. Somewhere outside came the growl of a lawn mower roaring to life. Aubrey didn’t know if it was cruel or comforting that the world kept on turning in the midst of a tragedy. That lawns still needed to be mowed and housework done. The gift Jonas had ordered for Danielle—now that was getting to her. She tried to swallow down the hot tears balling up in her throat.

      The lawn mower was awfully loud. Either that, or awfully close. Aubrey eased forward a few steps to peer outside, careful not to disturb the sleeping toddler in her arms. The lawn had gone unmowed. Since everyone in the family was so busy juggling kid care and sitting with Danielle at the hospital, there wasn’t any time left over for much else.

      Not that she minded at all, but she hadn’t been to the stables to ride her horse or able to work on her ceramics in her studio. There hadn’t been time for normal living—only working at the bookstore and helping Danielle out afterward. But now that her dad and stepmom were flying in, they wouldn’t all be stretched so thin.

      Then she saw him. William. He was wrestling with the mower at the far end of the lawn, lining it up for the next pass. Dappled sunlight gilded his strong profile and broad shoulders as he guided the mower out of sight. For a moment she didn’t believe her eyes. He was mowing the lawn?

      She knew he was, and yet her mind sort of spun around as if it was stuck in neutral. She could only gape speechlessly at the two strips of mowed lawn, proof of a stranger’s