Twice Upon a Time. Lois Richer

Twice Upon a Time - Lois  Richer


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      “I’m surprised you remembered my name,” Olivia teased Reese.

      “Of course I remember your name.”

      “You didn’t earlier.”

      “Well, I was focused on two small troublemakers. So my brain was occupied elsewhere. If you had kids you’d understand how easy it is to get side-tracked.”

      If she had kids—

      I was a wife and mother once, her heart cried out. Until my family was stolen from me.

      What would it be like to be part of a family again, to work with kids again, to find the connection that would make her part of something? Olivia longed to find out—but still feared some newspaper reporter would figure out who she’d been and run another story about her pitiful past.

      Reese’s sister Sara had been the first person Olivia had trusted in a very long time. And even Sara didn’t know the whole truth.

      The jury was still out on trusting Reese.

      LOIS RICHER

      likes variety. From her time in human resources management to entrepreneurship, life has held plenty of surprises. She says, “Having given up on fairy tales, I was happily involved in building a restaurant when a handsome prince walked into my life and upset all my career plans with a wedding ring. Motherhood quickly followed. I guess the seeds of my storytelling took root because of two small boys who kept demanding, ‘Then what, Mom?’” The miracle of God’s love for His children, the blessing of true love, the joy of sharing Him with others—that is a story that can be told a thousand ways and yet still be brand-new. Lois Richer intends to go right on telling it.

      Twice Upon a Time

      Lois Richer

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      For the Holy Spirit, God’s gift, doesn’t want you to be afraid of people, but to be wise and strong, and to love them and enjoy being with them.

      —II Timothy 1:7

      This book is dedicated to dads who love when it

       isn’t easy, try when they have no strength left and

       come running when you most need them.

       Yours is a rich legacy.

      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

      Epilogue

      Question for Discussion

      Chapter One

      Iwas that happy once.

      Olivia Hastings slipped away from the crowd at the hilltop wedding reception to regain her peace of mind. She set her bridesmaid bouquet on a rock before wandering farther downhill and away from the laughing guests.

      A few moments of solitude were all Olivia needed.

      “We’re not s’posed to come here.”

      That childish warning, barely audible, floated toward her on the soft summer wind, rousing her curiosity. The Woodward twins?

      Olivia kept walking, stepping carefully around thistles as she followed the voices. The twins, Brett and Brady Woodward, were the bride’s nephews. They’d taken part in a fundraiser Olivia had directed last month. The twins had stolen the show, though their father hadn’t bothered to see it.

      Reese Woodward was busy, his sister Sara claimed. Olivia thought he was too busy.

      “Uncle Cade said he caught fish in here when he was a little boy.”

      The stream! Olivia picked up her pace downhill, over hillocks topped with cropped grass, not caring that her silk dress would probably be ruined.

      Two four-year-old boys near water spelled disaster.

      “I want to catch a fish.”

      “No, Brett. Uncle Cade said…”

      His voice dissipated. Olivia strained, but couldn’t see the boys. She glanced around to call for help and realized no one would hear above the wedding reception music. Anyway, the wind would carry her voice away. She’d have to manage on her own. Olivia felt certain that, given the love she’d witnessed the Woodward family lavish on the twins, one or another of Denver’s famous wedding-planning family would soon come looking.

      “Brett, you can’t go in. Daddy said—”

      “You boys get away from that water,” Olivia yelled in her sternest tone, praying she wouldn’t be too late. She stubbed her toe on a rock and bit down to smother her cry as she climbed over it, using both hands to speed her descent.

      There. She could see them. Brady hovered at the edge of the water, obviously uncertain about his next move. But Brett already had one shoe off.

      “Hey!” Olivia shouted, waving her hands. Brady saw her, smiled and waved back. Brett was wading in. “No!”

      But in the next moment Brett tumbled face-first into the swiftly moving water. When it looked like Brady would go in after him, Olivia threw caution aside and raced downhill, ignoring the stabs and jabs of anything that tried to impede her progress.

      Brady teetered on one leg, about to lose his balance. Olivia plucked him up and sat him on a big rock several feet from the water’s edge.

      “Don’t you dare move,” she ordered. “I can’t see Brett.”

      Big, fat tears tumbled down chubby cheeks. Brady pointed.

      “There.” He sniffed. “He’s not swimming.”

      Brett lay facedown in the water, floating farther away.

      “I’ll get him, Brady, but don’t you move. Promise me.”

      “’Kay.”

      “Good boy.” Olivia stepped into the stream. Moving as swiftly as possible, she kept going, though the water was icy cold against her warm skin. In seconds her thin dress was soaked and she was chilled.

      Olivia ignored it as she’d learned to ignore the pain of loss that so often gripped her heart. When she was deep enough, she began swimming. It seemed to take forever, but finally she was able to grab a corner of Brett’s white tuxedo and tug him into her arms.

      Moving as fast as she dared over the sharp yet slippery rocks, Olivia carried the still body to shore. She laid Brett flat and began lifesaving maneuvers she’d learned years ago in a Red Cross class. While she worked, she prayed, vaguely aware that Brady was bawling at the top of his lungs. At least he hadn’t moved.

      Neither had Brett.

      Olivia kept working. Finally the boy responded, spewing a mouthful of water all over her before he gasped for oxygen.

      “Thank you, Father,” she whispered, holding him as the last of the water gurgled out and his breathing grew more normal.

      “No, thank you.”


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