Read High Plains Hearts Online
Authors: Janet Spaeth
High Plains Hearts
Angel’s Roost ©
2003 by Janet Spaeth
In the Cool of the Evening ©
2011 by Janet Spaeth
Sunshine
© 2011 by Janet Spaeth
Print ISBN 978-1-62416-734-8
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-62836-347-0
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-62836-348-7
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in the United States of America.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dear Readers,
Welcome to North Dakota! I’ve lived here most of my life, and I’m still stunned by how beautiful it is. A clear Dakota blue sky arches above the open stretch of land that goes on forever. The seasons are here in full force—from the gentle, green spring that comes after a fierce, cold winter with wild blizzard winds, to the glorious, brisk autumn that follows a warm, sun-blessed summer.
From the eastern part of the state, with some of the richest farmland in the United States, to the wild Badlands in the west, this state is incredible. Imagine a field of sunflowers, towering high above the ground, or an expanse of blue-blooming flax. You’ll see them here.
My favorite time in North Dakota is night. Every evening I go outside and spend a few minutes marveling at the nighttime sky. It’s dressed up at night in its finest jewels. Stars aren’t sprinkled across the sky—they are glowing clusters of sparkling diamonds against an inky velvet sky, and the moon is a glowing pearl. If I’m lucky, I’ll see the aurora borealis. The northern lights are stunning, with blazed streaks of sapphire and turquoise and emerald, and they remind me that our Father loves us and cares for us. Always.
I’m blessed to live here, and I hope you enjoy your visit to North Dakota in these stories!
Janet Spaeth
A
NGEL
’
S
R
OOST
This book is dedicated to those angels, seen and unseen, who have shaped and changed my life. I am especially grateful to Cleo Rowe, whose faith is constant and unwavering and who believes in angels because they believe in her.
Cleo, this is your book. Thank you for being my friend. You are an angel yourself.
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen
.
H
EBREWS 11:1
Y
es, her halo was definitely tilted.
Tess leaned into the display and straightened the halo on the three-foot-tall angel that stood inside the door of her store. It was always an eye-catcher, but sometimes it seemed as if it had a mind of its own—kind of a renegade angel.
“There,” she said at last, leaning back and admiring the angel, which grinned at her from under its wild raffia hair, not at all repentant. “Now try not to get into any more trouble.”
She opened the door that led from the store into the rest of her house. It was nice having the store only footsteps from where she lived. She walked the short distance to the kitchen and put the teakettle, painted with whistling angels, on the stove to boil.
Tea would be nice, she thought, as she shivered in the back room. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and in North Dakota that meant winter had already arrived, no matter what the calendar said. Heat didn’t quite penetrate into the far rooms of her old Victorian house, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world. The rooms were still alive with precious memories—of Grandma and Grandpa and the very happy childhood they had given her.
The tinkling of the angel chime over the shop door broke her reverie. She turned off the burner and dashed back into the store.
A man, his hat and shoulders dusted with large white snowflakes, stood in silence, looking around the room. Tess smiled. Her store had this effect on many people.
“
W
elcome to Angel’s Roost,” she greeted him.
He continued to take silent inventory of the store. “This is incredible!” he said at last, removing his snow-sodden hat and revealing disheveled hair that was mostly black but shot through in places with early silver. He tried unsuccessfully to straighten it. “Hat hair,” he said briefly in apologetic explanation before turning his attention back to the store. “Is it all angels? Everything in this store?”
“Every last bit of it.”
“This is incredible,” he repeated.
“Are you trying to find something in particular? A gift for your wife perhaps?” she asked.
“No wife, not even a girlfriend—sorry to say.” He looked at her, and under the droplets of melting snow she saw that his eyes were dark and fringed with long lashes. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. The kind of eyes she usually saw looking back at her from the pages of magazine advertisements.
Then the corners of those eyes crinkled, and she knew that under the thick muffler he was smiling. “This must be what heaven looks like.” He gestured in a sweeping motion at the hundreds of angels of all sizes, shapes, and colors that filled the shelves, tables, and chairs of Angel’s Roost.
His motion stopped when he saw the angel with the halo that was, once again, tilted.
He tugged his mittens off and pulled the snowy muffler down under his chin, revealing a face that was not traditionally handsome but already had deep laugh lines etched into it.
“This is a wonderful piece of work,” he said as he leaned over and straightened the out-of-kilter halo. “How much is she? I’ve got to have her—I can just see her greeting my customers as they walk in!”
An odd sensation of possessiveness about the crazy angel washed over Tess. She did some unnecessary neatening of the angel’s ecru and pink ruffled skirts.
“She is for sale, isn’t she?” the man asked. “She’d look perfect right inside the front door.”
“Her halo won’t stay straight,” Tess said softly.
“That adds to her charm.” He knelt and closely examined the angel’s face, studying her mischievous eyes, her tousled hair, her lopsided smile. “Yes, this is an angel that knows exactly what’s what in the heavenly realm. Want to bet she’s hidden Gabriel’s horn more than a few times?”
Tess laughed. His description was perfect.
He stood up and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jake Cameron, by the way.”
He said it as if expecting the name would mean something to her. Quickly she ran it through her memory:
Jake Cameron, Jake Cameron
. In the dim recesses of her mind a light began to glow. Food, something to do with food.
“Tell me where the angel will fit into your store,” she improvised.
“It’s not a store, exactly, although we do sell some items. You’ve been in Panda’s, haven’t you?”
Panda’s! The upscale coffee bar was a big draw for college students on the far end of town, near the mall. All the new development out there had attracted most retail and new eating establishments when the downtown had fallen out of favor and into disrepair.
It had become a division of the town’s loyalties in which sides had been taken, battle lines drawn. Tess was firmly on the side of downtown.
The history of the community itself, a river town established by a long-ago fur and commodities trade, was still evident, preserved in the stately structures that had crowded together in the early days of the Dakota Territory to form a business center that had eventually deserted it.
Tess delighted in it. Its bricks and ornate moldings had much more character than the plastic and glass of the End, as the new area had come to be called.
She’d been in Panda’s once, almost a year ago, and she was overwhelmed by the choices. All she’d wanted was a cup of coffee, but she’d ended up with a brownie-type creation and a mocha drink topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon. She had to admit that both were wonderful, even if she didn’t know exactly what she’d eaten or drunk.
Tess nodded. “I’ve been there.”
He studied her for a moment. “You’re not a regular, though. I’m sure I’d remember you.”
“To be honest, it’s a bit out of the way for me,” she responded. “I don’t get over to that part of town very often.”
She knew she was understating her disdain for the End, but this man was a customer, and she was not about to get into an argument about the town’s two diverse business sectors.
“I know what you mean. I don’t get downtown much either, or, believe me, I would have been in here before. It’s astonishing what all you have in this store. I’ve never seen so many angels gathered in one place.” He looked around curiously and picked up a small packet from a calico-lined basket near the cash register. “What’s this?”
