Gift from the Heart. Irene Hannon

at the paper in his hand.

      “Trouble?” she asked.

      He glanced up. “One of my patients. I need to get back to him.” He took a deep breath. “You said you planned to be here for a few days?”

      Actually, she planned to stay for six months. But she simply nodded in reply.

      “Let me sleep on this whole nanny thing, okay? Can I get back to you on Monday?”

      “Of course.”

      “How can I reach you?”

      “I’m staying at the Evergreen Motel.” She rummaged around in her purse and handed him a card. “You can just call me there.”

      Adam had driven by the Evergreen Motel many times. It was a nondescript one-story building that had obviously seen better days, on the other side of town. Somehow it didn’t fit with this woman’s designer clothes and Gucci purse. Nor with the woman herself. Whatever her financial situation now, everything about her spelled class. She was the type who belonged at the Ritz, not the Evergreen.

      As he walked Clare to the door and they said their goodbyes, he glanced toward the street. Her car—a modest, older-model compact—was yet another confirmation that she’d fallen on tough times. But why? She didn’t strike him as the frivolous type. Was her late husband to blame for her current predicament? he wondered, as she made her way toward the street. If so, he had done a great disservice to his wife. Even after only a brief encounter, he sensed that Clare was a kind, intelligent, empathetic woman, who deserved far more than she currently seemed to have. The thought of her at the Evergreen Motel actually made him feel a bit sick.

      Clare reached the car and paused to shift her purse higher on her shoulder, then shaded her eyes with one hand and gazed at the distant mountains. He found himself admiring the natural grace of her movements, as well as her quiet dignity. And he wondered what she was thinking as she looked toward the mist-shrouded peaks.

      When she glanced back toward the house, she seemed surprised to find him still standing at the door. And for a moment, he had a sudden, compelling urge to call her back, to offer her a place to stay. Which was very out of character. Because he was not an impulsive guy. And she was a stranger. A moment later, the fleeting impulse disappeared when she slid into the driver’s seat.

      Adam waited until the car was out of sight, then slowly shut the front door. Even though he’d told Clare he wanted to think about her proposal, he was already pretty sure that he would accept. Because he desperately needed help with Nicole.

      And in his heart he had a feeling that Clare was the answer to his prayer.

      The water stain on the ceiling in her cramped motel room was the first thing Clare saw when she opened her eyes the next morning, and she quickly averted her gaze. She didn’t need luxury, but neither was she used to these kinds of conditions. Tears welled up behind her eyelids, but she refused to give in to them, focusing her thoughts instead on the good, home-cooked meal she’d had yesterday in a quaint little place called the Bluebird Café, and the long, invigorating walk she’d taken through the town. The fresh air, cloudless blue sky and vibrant trees in their autumn finery had done wonders to renew her spirits. She’d arrived back at her room so tired that, despite the lumpy bed, she’d slept soundly. So, physically, she felt better today. And even though Adam hadn’t given her a definitive answer to her proposal, she was hopeful that in the end he would say yes.

      In the old days, Clare would have taken a moment upon waking to speak to the Lord about her situation. But even though she still tried to pray on occasion, the words were dry and did nothing to quench the thirst in her soul. So her talks with the Lord had become infrequent at best. She wished she had A.J.’s solid faith. Tragedy had only strengthened her sister’s relationship with the Lord. Of course, Clare supposed she was better off than Morgan, who seemed to have completely abandoned the faith of her youth in her pursuit of worldly success. Still, Clare felt an emptiness that could only be filled by reconnecting with the Lord. She just didn’t know how to go about it.

      An image flashed through her mind of the small white church in town that had caught her eye yesterday. Set in a grove of trees, its tall steeple rising toward Heaven, it had called out to her, offering peace and solace. She’d gone so far as to try the door, but of course it was locked in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. However, Clare had made a note of the times for Sunday worship.

      She glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she could just make the second service. Since she didn’t have anything else planned for the day, and she wasn’t inclined to spend any more time than necessary at the Evergreen, she figured it couldn’t hurt to go. Maybe worshipping in a new place might give her some fresh insights that would help get her back on track in her faith journey.

      When Clare pulled up in front of the church forty-five minutes later, the small lot was already full. By the time she found a parking spot half a block away and stepped inside, the service was just beginning. She had planned to simply slip inconspicuously into a pew in the back, but unfortunately, there were no empty seats in the rear. An usher motioned to her, and before she could decline he was leading the way toward an empty spot near the front. Short of ignoring his hospitality, she had no choice but to follow him.

      Clare was aware of the curious glances of the congregation as she traversed the main aisle. She supposed that in a small town like Hope Creek, visitors were big news. But she’d never liked being the center of attention, so she kept her eyes looking straight ahead. Only when she murmured a thank-you to the usher did she glance at the pew across the aisle—and found Adam and Nicole watching her. Adam gave her a brief smile and nod, and Nicole peeked around him and waved. Clare smiled in response, then turned her attention to the service. Or at least tried to. But she found herself casting frequent, surreptitious glances at the doctor and his daughter.

      Nicole sat on the other side of Adam, so she couldn’t see the young girl very well. But she caught enough glimpses to know that Nicole was dressed in tight black hip-hugger jeans. Her top seemed to be a bit more discreet than the one she’d worn yesterday, but it was not attire Clare would have deemed appropriate for church.

      Adam, on the other hand, was well dressed. His broad shoulders filled out his dark suit, and a gold tie lay against his starched white shirt. He’d looked great yesterday in jeans, and was equally handsome in today’s more impressive formal attire, which gave him a distinguished air.

      Clare did her best to sing the hymns and listen to the sermon, but the elderly minister was a bit dry, and she found her attention—and her gaze—frequently wandering over to the doctor and his daughter…until she found Adam staring back. For a moment they’d both seemed startled, then Clare quickly looked away as hot color stole on to her cheeks. Served her right, she thought in chagrin. She was in the house of God. That’s where her thoughts should be, too. For the rest of the service she made a concerted effort to be more focused.

      As the last hymn ended, however, her thoughts returned to Adam and Nicole. She was so preoccupied formulating a greeting in her head that it took her a moment to realize the woman next to her had spoken.

      “I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?”

      The older woman smiled at her. “I’m the one who should apologize. You must have been deep in prayer. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

      Prayer had been the furthest thing from her mind, Clare thought with a pang of guilt. “No reason to apologize. I must admit that I was thinking about something I need to do after the service. But I should have been praying.”

      The woman chuckled. She had short, stylish gray hair that established her senior status, but her blue eyes twinkled with the enthusiasm of a youngster. “That’s something we’re all guilty of on occasion, I suspect.” She held out her hand. “I’m Adele Malone.”

      Clare returned the woman’s firm handshake. “Clare Randall.”

      “You’re new in town.”

      “A visitor, actually. I’m here on…business.”

      “Well, I’m glad you joined us