A Handful of Heaven. Jillian Hart
and it makes me suspicious. Worry and suspicion are a mother’s job.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. So, are you gonna be home soon?”
That question made her suspicious, too. “You didn’t happen to notice a leak in the bathroom before you bugged out of here, did you?”
“Nope. I’d have told ya, even though Beth was waiting for me. Why? What’d I do?”
“Nothing. I had a leak in a pipe, that’s all. Are you getting ready for bed, or are you going to get lost in your new video game?
“Uh, nope, I wasn’t playing my X-Box, but thanks for reminding me, Ma.” He sounded pleased with himself. “Just kidding. You want me to go out and feed the horse for you?”
He was volunteering to do barn work? There had to be something wrong. That wasn’t normal teenage behavior. “Okay, what did you do?” Expecting the worst, Paige hefted the bucket toward the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you dinged the truck.”
“No way.”
“Hit somebody on the way home?”
“Hey, I’m innocent. I’m just trying to help my poor tired mom.”
Help? Now she was suspicious. She maneuvered the bucket up to the industrial sink and up-ended it. “Okay. Out with it, young man. What did you do? What are you trying to soften me up for?”
“Nothing. I just thought I’d be a good son for a change.” There was a grin in his voice. “Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, I’m still suspicious, though.”
“You go right ahead, Mom. You’ll see.” He sounded extraordinarily happy.
Could it be her son was moving past the surly teenager stage that even the best of kids went through? No, that was too much to hope for. “I’ll see you when I get home. I’ll be leaving in about ten minutes. Think you can have your teeth brushed and your prayers said by the time I get there?”
“Aye, aye, captain.” With a chuckle he clicked off the phone.
Yep, something was definitely up with that boy. She snapped the cell shut, slipped it back into her pocket and rinsed the bucket. Done. Well, done enough for now.
She was beat; she usually put in more hours than this staying later on weekend nights. Maybe it was the worry and upset over the water pipe. She felt as if she’d worked two twelve-hour shifts back to back.
But the moment she stepped outside and locked the back door, she saw her journey wasn’t going to be an easy one. She still had to remove the snow coating her SUV and chip away at the ice frozen solid to the windows before she could even think about trying to drive. And once she was on her way, the roads would be more than a challenge.
Twenty minutes later, falling snow pelted her trusty Jeep with big wet flakes, and it was impossible to see more than a few inches in front of her. The accumulation on the road was sloppy and tricky to drive in. It caught at the wheels and tossed the vehicle every which way, so she slowed to a crawl to navigate through the town streets and along the county road where other vehicles’ tires had mashed the mire down into an icy compact crust.
When she turned off onto the private road, she relaxed a bit. Almost home. The evergreens and cottonwoods lining the lane were bent low from the heavy snow and scraped at the top of her Jeep; that’s when it got tough going. She fought the wheel to stay on the narrow road.
Only two other sets of tire tracks marked the way in the otherwise absolute darkness. One set, which was almost snow filled, veered off down a long, tree-lined drive. Evan Thornton’s place. The remaining tracks had to be her son’s and led her a few more miles into the hills, up her driveway and into the shelter of her garage.
Thank heaven. She was home and in one piece, and not that much worse for wear. Lights flicked on and there was Alex, holding open the inside door, already in a flannel T-shirt and pants she’d gotten him for Christmas. His blond hair was rumpled and in serious need of a cut. His dog panted at his side. “Hey, Mom. I was just nuking some cocoa. Want some?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love a cup.”
“Cool.” He flashed her a quick grin and disappeared behind the door, the dog, Max, loping along after him.
As she gave the door a shove, her back popped. Great. That was going to be the next disaster. Her back was going to go out. Every joint she owned creaked. Wasn’t life eventually supposed to be easier, Lord? Or are You trying to tell me something?
She rescued her purse from the floor, along with the small paper sack with the last two cinnamon rolls. She had to wonder, as she elbowed through the door and into the laundry room, whether God was sending her a sign.
Every time she tried to get ready to sell the diner for good something happened to hold her firmly here. In the last six months, her sister Rachel had married and moved away, the roof had needed to be replaced and now the plumbing. Those repairs would erode a big chunk of the savings she’d been squirreling away. Not good.
Then again, it was never a true disaster, either. The Lord might be trying to tell her something, but He always made sure she had help, too. The image of Evan Thornton flashed into her mind. Tall, broad-shouldered, he had the kind of quiet strength that made a woman sigh and wish—even a woman like her who did not place any faith in the non-constant nature of men.
Sure, some men were constant, but it was a rare thing. The trouble was, it would be easy to start believing Evan was one of those kind of men. He’d helped out tonight without expecting more than a thank-you. And what was it he’d said? Glad I could make a difference. He had his heart in the right place. Why had it seemed that he was so sad? Not depressed-sad, just…lonely-sad. He hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house.
It hit her the moment she saw her strapping son at the microwave, punching the buttons. Hadn’t Evan’s youngest boy, who was a year older than Alex, gone to college this year? Maybe that’s why he seemed so lonely.
Alex’s crooked grin lit up his face. “Excellent, Mom. Sit down, take a load off. Want me to get that for you?”
He could have been a young, hip butler for the attention he was giving her. And while it was nice, she had to wonder what was behind his very sweet behavior. She let him take her purse, the dinner sack and her keys and then watched in amazement while he set them on the counter. He couldn’t resist peeking into the sack.
“Sweet. Good call. I could use a cinnamon roll. I’m a growing boy, you know.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Here, sit down.” His hand on her elbow guided her to one of the chairs at the breakfast bar.
“Okay, what’s up?” What trouble are you in now? She bit her tongue before she said it. “This is bringing to mind the time you drove into the school bus in the school parking lot and backed up traffic for thirty minutes.”
“My dearest mother, now why would I be up to anything? I’m a good kid.”
“Good is a relative term.” He was a good boy; her heart swelled up with endless love for him, but he was a teenage boy, no matter how great a kid he was, and he needed constant vigilant guidance. Even if she was proud of the fine man he was growing up to be.
As he fetched the full steaming mug he’d obviously fixed before she’d stepped through the door, she watched him like a hawk, trying to ferret out a clue to the truth. But nothing. No hint.
She kept staring at him, but he wasn’t going to crack. She took the mug he slid across the counter to her. “Okay, spill it. I want the truth.”
All innocence, he opened the microwave door. “There’s no truth. I just thought I’d be nice to my mom.”
“I like it. I just need to know why.”
“Well, let me think. I did rob a bank tonight, and I stopped by a convenience store and robbed