Wounded Grace

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Praise

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  Thank you

  Wounded Grace

  Tanya Stowe

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Wounded Grace

  COPYRIGHT 2014 by Tanya Stowe

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Contact Information: titleadmin@pelicanbookgroup.com

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  Cover Art by Nicola Martinez

  White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

  White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  Publishing History

  First White Rose Edition, 2014

  Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-393-3

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For my Sacred Heart Church family who have taught me much about God's grace.

  Praise

  Tender Touch

  I loved this book, and can say in all honesty that it is one of the best I've read in the past year...and possibly longer. ~ Delia Latham, author of Gypsy’s Game

  White Christmas

  Ms. Tanya Stowe has, once again, written a great book that grabbed my attention and refused to let go! ~ The Romance Studio

  1

  Madison Harper paused in her digging, slid the gloves off her hands and placed her palms flat on the warm, moist earth. The soil’s rich scent floated up to her. She closed her eyes, turned her face up to the warm, early spring sun and whispered, “Thank you.”

  She didn’t miss too many opportunities these days to praise the Lord. After two years of hospitals and rehabilitation, she was extremely grateful to be outside, beneath the golden sun, working the soil and basking in the glory of God’s creation. She was glad just to be alive…gardening was a special bonus. She never thought she’d have full use of her leg again, let alone bend it beneath her like it was right now. She rubbed her thigh absently, as the memory of careening down the snowy hillside and slamming into the tree flashed through her mind.

  Her fingers clenched into the soil. Not so long ago, that image would have sent her into a panic attack. She was in coma for two weeks after the accident. When she woke, her leg was pinned and immovable, and her mind was just as weak and frightened. Two operations later, doctors were convinced she’d never walk on it. Madison had almost started to believe them when her friend and mentor, Vivian Mallory, intervened.

  “Our God is bigger than the doctors, Maddie. They don’t get to have the last word. He does and I believe He wants you to walk again.”

  Vivian was right. God did want Madison to walk again, and run, and even to move to this little bungalow complex in the corner of southeast Texas where she could discover how much she liked to dig in the earth.

  “Those flowers aren’t going to plant themselves, gal.”

  Madison looked up. Andrew Hart, Vivian’s husband and owner of Heart’s Haven stood above her, leaning on a shovel. As she looked straight up, sun flashed all around him, so bright she could barely see the smile, hovering over his lips. His tone might have been grumpy but Andrew knew better than anyone what this activity meant to Madison.

  Raising her arm to shield her eyes she said, “You just keep digging those holes, I’ll catch up.”

  “You’ve got two rows to fill with flowers now. I reckon I’ll just rest here a bit till you’re done.”

  Even with her arm shading her eyes, the sun was so bright around Andrew she could barely see him. He shimmered with a golden aura. But she could hear the weariness in his tone. Andrew was almost eighty but still as active as a fifty-year-old.

  “Maybe you should go sit for a spell on the porch of the big house.”

  If Madison could have seen his face, she was sure she’d see one eyebrow raised, but he never said a word. He didn’t have to. Madison knew what he thought of her suggestion. Smiling, she went back to work.

  A wedding was coming to Heart’s Haven. Kaci James and Ryne Calvert, two residents, were getting married in the Heart’s Haven central court. Kaci had asked Vivian for her expertise as an interior decorator to help plan the wedding, and Mr. Hart was determined to make the complex postcard perfect. He’d hired painters to white-coat the big house and the bungalows and even enlisted his nephew Kevin to design and color coordinate all the grounds.

  Madison slid a delicate paperwhite plant out of its plastic container, placed it in the ground and carefully filled soil around it. The flower was barely blooming but it already carried a sweet scent that drifted gently upwards. Behind the two rows of paperwhites was a bank of yellow daffodils. Next, Madison would plant a full tray of purple grape hyacinth and finally another tray of purple crocuses with yellow and white centers. Purple, white and yellow would be in full bloom everywhere on the grounds.

  They didn’t know about the wedding in time to plant bulbs. Kevin had to special order all these early spring plants from a nursery. It had cost a small fortune for plants so close to blooming, but Mr. Hart had declared it “worth every penny.” As Madison looked around at the sweet-scented, colorful flowerbeds taking shape, she had to agree.

  A trickle of sweat worked its way down Madison’s spine and eased beneath the band of her pants, tickling all the way. She was hot and starting to get itchy, but her discomfort only made her smile again. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you for the opportunity,” she whispered.

  She slid the first of the tiny grape hyacinths out of its plastic container and dropped it in a hole. Without warning, a shadow covered the ground where she worked. Madison leaned back on her legs. Moments ago the sky had been clear.

  She looked up. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere to be seen. The sky was as clear blue as it had been moments before.

  Madison’s gaze jerked back down to the ground. All of her plants were still cast in a large, undefined, dark shadow. Where in the world was it coming from?

  Suddenly, the shovel Mr. Hart had been holding fell in front of Madison, crushing the tiny hyacinths and paperwhites she’d just planted.

  Madison gasped as Mr. Hart grabbed his chest, fell to his knees, and rolled over in the dark, warm earth. Madison ripped off her gloves and crawled to his side. He was curled in pain, clutching his chest.

  “Mr. Hart!” Shock swept through Madison.

  Heart attack. He was having a heart attack. What should she do?

  Call 911.

  “Help,” she murmured barely able to get the words past her frozen lips.

  Mr. Hart convulsed again and that spurred her into action.

  “Help!” She turned and shouted across the complex yard where Kevin and his crew were forming anothe
r flowerbed.

  “Call 911! He’s having a heart attack!”

  She turned back to Mr. Hart. Her mind scrambled to find a way to help. An infomercial flashed through her thoughts. “Cough, Mr. Hart. Try to cough. I think it helps.”

  But the pain was too great, too sudden. All he could do was clutch his chest.

  Madison reached for him, wishing she could do something. He grasped her hand and tried to turn his head to see her. She lifted him gently onto her lap. He wanted to speak, but couldn’t.

  Tell Vivian he loves her.

  “Oh, no Andrew,” she whispered as hot tears flowed down her cheeks and onto their muddy, clasped hands. “Please, no. Not yet.”

  Tell her.

  The finality of the words surrounded her, filled her with certainty. His death would not be stopped. She felt it, knew it. A small sob escaped her, and she nodded. “I’ll tell her. I promise, I’ll tell her.”

  Her words eased his pain. He released his chest, looked at a spot just above her shoulder and smiled. Then his eyes closed.

  2

  Lance Dalton parked in front of the large two-story, Victorian home the Heart’s Haven folks called “the big house” and unfolded his long length out of his car. Humidity washed over him with a heavy, almost oppressive wave and made his skin tingle. His gaze fixed on the house. He stretched the long drive out of his cramped muscles, and tried to shake away the unpleasant prickling sensation.

  Strange. Heart’s Haven looked as it had on his last visit. Nothing seemed different. But it was. In the flash of an instant, everything at Heart’s Haven had changed. Andrew Hart, the core of the community, was gone and Lance’s sister, Vivian, was burying her second husband.

  Heart’s Haven’s essence, its lifeblood, had drained away. At the very least, Lance thought the house should reflect the change, should look like a washed-out version of itself.

  He knew Vivian would be different. Andrew Hart had been the love of her life. She would fade and change now that he was gone. Lance knew, because after thirty years of marriage, he’d lost his own precious Gwen and had become a shadow of his former self. That’s why, as soon as he got the call about Andrew, he’d packed a bag and driven over eight hours to be with his sister. She would need him now, need all the help she could get.

  He slammed the car door shut and took the large porch steps two at a time. The front door was locked…for the first time in his memory. He had to knock a second time before he heard light footsteps coming down the hall. He expected to see Vivian’s grief-stricken face as the door swung wide.

  Instead, he tensed instantly upon seeing Madison Harper. Hackles rose all over his body. “Oh, it’s you.” He was too surprised to force a polite tone into his voice.

  “Lance, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I doubt very much that you’re glad to see me, Madison. We have too much history and too many years of bad blood for either of us to be ‘glad’ to see the other.”

  Her lips tightened into a thin line but she said nothing, just held the door wide and gestured him into the hall.

  “You must have driven straight through. I know you must be tired, but it’s so good you’re here. We need you.”

  We? Vivian had told him that Madison had moved to Heart’s Haven and they had grown close again. But somehow, that fact hadn’t registered. He couldn’t believe his sister had actually let the little barracuda back into her life. Vivian said Madison had changed, become more like her old self, but he hadn’t believed that, either.

  Her straight hair curved around her face but was shorter at the back. She was slender, but not overly so. In fact, she’d put on weight since her Dallas days. She’d always been too thin, almost anorexic. She looked good now, better than a woman of her age…or temperament, had a right to look.

  His late wife, Gwen, had borne three children, was a grandmother, and proud of it. She wore their amazing life together in the shape of her body, and it had always been beautiful to him.

  “I want to help, Lance, but I’m afraid I’m not much use.” Madison seemed oblivious to Lance’s circumspect inspection. “Andrew was so important…to me, to all of us.”

  Lance was surprised to see moisture glass her eyes as she turned away. But he wondered about the sincerity of those tears. After all, this was the woman who ten years ago pretended to be Vivian’s best friend and assistant so she could systematically steal all of Viv’s clients.

  “Everyone’s having such a difficult time. We need someone with a level head to keep us on track. There’s so much to decide about the funeral…” Madison’s voice faded away.

  “And, of course, I know all about that.” He hadn’t meant the words to come out so sharp, but at least they had the effect of finally silencing Madison. She stared at him, the tracks of tears still on her cheeks.

  “I didn’t mean—” She stumbled over her words and for the first time, Lance felt a twinge of guilt over his uncharitable attitude.

  “I was so sorry to hear about Gwen, Lance.” The sincerity in her soft tone heightened the twinge to an unwelcome pang. “She was…”

  “Special.” He finished the sentence for her.

  “Yes, she was.” Two years had gone by since the five-car pile-up that had taken his wife from him, and the pain felt just as sharp as if it had happened yesterday.

  “I wanted to come to the funeral, Lance, but I had just had my own accident…”

  “Yes, I know all about that. I didn’t expect you to come.” He knew he was being rude and unkind but somehow, it just didn’t seem right for Madison Harper to talk about Gwen.

  He looked around. She’d led him to the foot of the long staircase and he glanced up. “Where’s Viv?”

  “She’s resting. We were up all night at the hospital, filing paperwork. She’s exhausted, so I thought this would be a good time for us to talk.”

  The hackles that had risen the minute he’d seen Madison rippled again. “Look, I’ve driven all night. I’m tired, hungry and not in the best of moods. I’d really just like to talk to my sister.”

  Madison took a slow, measured breath. “I can take you to see her, but I doubt you’ll get much out of her. The doctor gave her something to help her sleep. We could drive a truck through her bedroom right now, and I doubt she would wake up.”

  Her stiff tone said he’d finally gotten to her. Was he trying? Was that the reason for this unexpected attitude? Payback?

  He ran a hand through his hair and tried to shrug the tension out of his shoulders. “I’m out of line. I’m sorry.” But he couldn’t take the curtness out of his voice.

  “It’s not your fault,” Madison said. Her calm, collected tone only served to further irritate him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s not your fault. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Heart’s Haven is experiencing something…strange. Surely, you felt it the minute you stepped out of your car?”

  He had felt the humidity…unusual for this time of year. And it had seemed exceptionally heavy. But he’d chalked that up to his own emotions and the misfortune that had brought him to Heart’s Haven in such a rush.

  “Tempers are short, here,” Madison said.

  “That’s understandable considering what’s going on.”

  “Not for Heart’s Haven. People here…well, we look out for each other. Take care of each other. Lately, though, disagreements come up frequently, and fights start for no reason. Old hurts rear their ugly heads.” She hesitated. “With our history, I figured you and I would be prime targets.”

  “Me? A target? Wait a minute.” Lance held up both hands as a thought finally got through his sleep-deprived mind. “Are you talking about spiritual warfare?”

  Madison nodded.

  Lance stared at her for a moment before a sound almost like a laugh slipped out.

  Madison studied him, letting him have his moment of humor before she said, “You don’t believe in spiritual warfare.”

  “Oh, I believe in it. I just
can’t believe I’m hearing those words out of your mouth, any words about faith from you.”

  This time his barb reached its mark. Madison flinched. He felt his first real wave of regret. What was wrong with him? He was never this rude or unkind to anyone.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe there was spiritual warfare going on at Heart’s Haven. He frowned and tried to look at the woman, he’d once considered a friend, without a veil of resentment. Her expression was open, honest. Something had definitely changed.

  “It doesn’t matter what you think of me.” Weariness edged Madison’s voice. “In point of fact, I probably deserve some of what you’d like to dish out. But we’re both here for Vivian. We need to try to bury the hatchet and get along. She needs us.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, even though he wanted to. For some inexplicable reason, he wanted to shout and rail at Madison…and she didn’t deserve it. At least not as much as he wanted to “dish out,” as she put it. Something was going on with him, and right now, he was too weary to figure it out.

  He ran a hand around his neck and looked around, almost at a loss.

  “You said you were tired and hungry.” Madison sounded almost sympathetic. “I think I can help with the hunger. Follow me.”

  She headed to the upstairs kitchen. The downstairs cooking area was reserved for the tenants to rent or use for meetings. He followed, disjointed thoughts flitting through his mind. He watched her back, seeing a younger, cockier version of Madison, with her too slender shape and always picture-perfect appearance. Now she was softly rounded, more casual and walked with a slight limp. Other memories floated in as well.

  “If I remember correctly, you didn’t cook,” he said as Madison crossed the bright kitchen and pulled a large casserole from the fridge. His sister’s professional hand for interior design showed itself in the bright spots of red throughout the cheery room. They made him feel comfortable and relaxed.