Abide With Me. Delia Parr

      

      PRAISE FOR DELIA PARR AND HER NOVELS

      “Parr has a superb sense of narrative pacing…”

      —Philadelphia Inquirer on A Place Called Trinity

      “Parr’s writing is fresh and original.…”

      —Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel on The Minister’s Wife

      “Written in the tradition of LaVyrle Spencer, Parr’s books are beautifully written in elegant prose…the characters’ faith is always a big factor in their growth and triumph…”

      —Tina Wainscott, author of In Too Deep on The Promise of Flowers

      “Always one to break the rules and craft intelligent, thought-provoking romance…”

      —Romantic Times BOOKclub on Sunrise

      Dedicated to my mother, Evelyn, and her three sisters, Doris, Elaine and Catherine, who taught us all the joys of sisterhood and faith

      Abide with Me

      Delia Parr

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      Contents

      Acknowledgments

      Questions for Discussion

      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

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-One

      Chapter Thirty-Two

      Chapter Thirty-Three

      Chapter Thirty-Four

      Chapter Thirty-Five

      Chapter Thirty-Six

      Chapter Thirty-Seven

      Chapter Thirty-Eight

      Chapter Thirty-Nine

      Chapter Forty

      Epilogue

      Afterword

      Mother’s Blueberry Boy Bait

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      Writing a book about the relationships between sisters would not have been possible without the support of my own sisters. Pat and Joanne are my biggest cheerleaders. Carol Beth is my first “editor,” who saves me from making dumb mistakes that wind up on my editor’s desk. Like Joanne, she is also a registered nurse, so I have a medical expert at my fingertips while I’m writing. Pat’s work with senior citizens also gave me insight that I used in creating some of my characters. Kathy and Susan have already gone Home, so they watch over me, too. My friend, Jeanne, is my sister-by-affection. A retired chemistry teacher and licensed real estate agent, she provided insight into the world of real estate that proved very helpful while writing the book. Unlike the Long sisters in the book, however, we have a brother, John, who has somehow survived growing up with six sisters!

      I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the great support and love I receive from my children, Matt and his wife, Ileana, Brett and Elizabeth. I am so proud of you all!

      Chapter One

      S urrounded by animated conversations and mouthwatering aromas, Andrea Long Hooper waited for her sisters in one of The Diner’s corner booths, gazing out the plate-glass window to distract herself from being overwhelmed by memories of Sandra.

      Bright July sunshine reflected on the windshields of the cars that eased by on Welles Avenue and circled around the old bronze monument that anchored the community. While some residents drove off to start another workday, still others filled the commuter rail that bisected the town of Welleswood, carrying them across the Delaware River to work in nearby Philadelphia.

      Inside The Diner, the regulars, mostly retired folks from the nearby senior-citizens complex, sipped at coffee and enjoyed the daily special: one scrambled egg, one strip of bacon, a small glass of orange juice and coffee or tea with unlimited refills. No substitutions. All for $1.95. Served daily, from six to eight.

      Only a few years ago, Welleswood’s business district along the main street had been an odd mix of thrift shops, convenience stores and empty storefronts that kept The Diner sorry company. Concrete sidewalks, dark with age and automobile soot, had invited little foot traffic, other than neighborhood children making their way to school or the community swimming pool, which was a relic from a community-building program during the Great Depression. A lone gas station at the far end of town had closed, along with the lumberyard and movie theater, all victims of suburban flight in the sixties and seventies that had left Welleswood gasping for breath.

      Not anymore.

      With no small measure of pride, Andrea glanced up and down “the avenue”—only newcomers ever called Welles Avenue by its official name. The Town Restoration Committee, formed twelve years ago by a coalition of local businesspeople, town politicians and concerned citizens, had helped to breathe new life into the town that she and her family had called home for four generations. Armed with federal and state grant money, along with a daring business plan that had incited equal numbers of avowed enthusiasts and raucous critics in the early going, the committee had achieved phenomenal success.

      Welleswood’s renaissance was nearly complete. Restored sidewalks, replete with brick walkways, new light posts, benches and gardens filled with potted plants from early spring through late fall, invited strollers and window shoppers, along with buyers. With