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Oh, good grief. She felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. Whatever on earth was wrong with her? She wasn’t the giddy sort.

Tell that to the butterflies in her stomach.

“Would you like something from the snack bar?” James asked. “I could get us each a drink, and we could share a box of popcorn.”

“All right.” She doubted she could eat a single bite. “I’ll have a Diet Coke, please.”

While James stood in line for their refreshments, Stephanie waited in the lobby near the entrance to the theater. She studied the various posters on the walls that advertised the movies coming to the Apollo in weeks to come. During the school year, the theater was only open on the weekends, Friday evening through the Sunday matinee. Most movies played for one weekend, the occasional blockbuster being the exception to that rule.

There weren’t many people here tonight, which caused her to wonder about the review she’d read. Maybe the film wasn’t good after all. But she supposed the high school kids came to the 9:00 show.

She turned her head and saw Liz Rue, owner of the Tattered Pages Bookstore, walking toward her. “Hi, Steph. I’m glad I ran into you. The book you ordered came in today. I meant to call you, but I kept getting interrupted.”

“That’s all right. I wasn’t in any rush. I’ll come into the bookstore tomorrow to get it.”

“Say, would you like to sit with Ivan and me? It’s no fun to go to the movies alone and we—”

James stepped to Stephanie’s side, holding a cardboard tray with the two large drinks and a large popcorn in it. “Sorry that took so long.”

Liz looked as if she were choking on her unfinished sentence.

“Liz, have you met James Scott? James, this is Liz Rue. She owns the bookstore on Main Street, across from the Good Buy Market.”

James nodded his head to acknowledge the introduction. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Rue. I stopped in your store the other day. The Tattered Pages, right?”

“Yes.” Liz’s gaze moved from James to Steph to James again.

Was she surprised to see Stephanie out with a man? Or was it seeing her with this particular man—the one who bore a striking resemblance to one of
People
’s Sexiest Men Alive—that surprised her more? Whichever it was, Stephanie had a sinking feeling she and James were about to become grist for the rumor mill.

How embarrassing!

James said, “Steph, let’s find our seats, shall we?” To Liz, he added, “Please excuse us, Ms. Rue. I don’t like to miss the previews of coming attractions.”

“Of course. Enjoy the show. Steph, don’t forget to pick up that book.”

“I won’t.”

Longing for the dim light of the theater to hide her flushed cheeks, Stephanie followed James. He motioned her into a row, and she sank onto the second seat off the aisle, wishing she could simply disappear.

As James handed her the Diet Coke, he leaned close and whispered, “I don’t mind, you know.”

She looked at him, but his eyes were hidden in shadows. “Mind what?”

“I don’t mind if they gossip about us.” He paused, and she could just make out his smile. “Not if what they’re saying is true.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned over and pressed his lips against her right cheek.

Chapter 6

STEPHANIE’S DREAMS WERE FILLED with James and that gentle, sweet kiss he’d placed upon her cheek in the darkened movie theater. She awakened the next morning feeling gloriously, joyously alive.

Miranda arrived on her doorstep at 8:00 a.m.

“Well, this is a surprise.”

Judging by her daughter’s dour expression, something was troubling her, but Stephanie didn’t ask what. She’d learned through the years that it was best to let Miranda open up on her own.

She motioned her daughter inside, then led the way into the kitchen. “I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought Foster had an away game.”

“He does. We’ll leave town in a little bit. I came over while Vince packs the car.”

“Coffee?”

Her daughter shook her head. “No, thanks.”

Stephanie poured herself a cup.

“Mom, are you okay?” Miranda leaned her shoulder against the refrigerator.

“I’m fine.” She turned from the coffeemaker. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I just thought…Well, maybe I haven’t been paying enough attention to you lately. I know you must get lonely, with Dad gone.”

Stephanie nodded. “Yes, sometimes I’m lonely. But it’s all right. I know you all have busy lives. I remember what it was like when you were in high school and going several directions at once. And I wasn’t juggling a job like you are. I don’t expect you to be at my beck and call, dear.”

Miranda worried her lower lip, a frown furrowing her brow.

“Oh my,” Stephanie said softly, realizing at last the reason for her daughter’s unexpected visit.

“What?”

“This is about my date with James last night, isn’t it?”

“Your
date
?” Miranda straightened away from the refrigerator.

Ironic, wasn’t it, to have her daughter objecting to that term. Stephanie had resisted it, too––up until the moment last night when James kissed her.

Quelling a smile, Stephanie said, “Isn’t that what they still call it when a man and woman go out to the movies?” She carried her coffee to the kitchen table and sat down.

“Mom, this isn’t like you.”

“What isn’t like me, honey?” She feigned ignorance. Or innocence. Or both.

Was it wicked to tease her daughter this way?

Miranda joined her at the table. “Isabella says that man is an old school friend of yours. I’m sorry I didn’t meet him last weekend. I should have been at the game, but—”

“His name is James.” Stephanie felt a warm glow just saying it. “James Scott.”

“Whatever. James. Fine.” Her daughter was getting more distraught with every word. “But Mom, you don’t know anything about him. He hasn’t lived here in, what? Fifty years?”

She couldn’t contain the smile a moment longer. “Fifty-two.”

“You shouldn’t rush into a relationship, Mom.”

Her good humor began to fade. “I would hardly call going to a movie rushing into a relationship. And you’re wrong about my not knowing anything about James. You’d be surprised by the number of subjects we’ve talked about in a short period of time. He’s articulate and he’s interesting and he’s got a delightful sense of humor.”

“But people in town are
talking
, Mom.”

“Then let them talk.” Stephanie squeezed her coffee cup between both hands. Last week, she’d felt guilty for enjoying his company. Last night, she’d been embarrassed when she realized others might gossip about her and James. But this morning, everything was different. “Unless I’m breaking the law or falling into sin, what I do is no one’s business but mine.”

“Mo-o-o-om.”
Her daughter drew the word out in a wheedling tone.

“And it isn’t
your
business either, dear.”

Miranda drew back in surprise.

Trying to soften her rebuke, Stephanie said, “I’m a grown woman, Miranda. I know my own mind and heart.” She took a sip of coffee, giving herself a moment to weigh her words. “I may be a senior citizen, but I don’t have one foot in the grave. I have every intention of living as full a life as the Lord will allow in the time I have left on earth. Your grandmother lived to be ninety-two, and her mother lived to be ninety-five. If I inherited those same genes, I may have another twenty-five years in me.” She learned forward. “How would you want me to spend those years?”

“I…You…” Miranda glanced at her wristwatch. “Oh, great. I’ve got to go.” She rose. “We’ll talk about this another time.”

Stephanie gave her daughter a patient smile. “If you wish.”

A few moments later, alone again, she released a deep sigh. Had she been unkind or unreasonable in what she said to Miranda? She hoped not.

Lord, show me if I was in the wrong. She’s my daughter and she cares about me. I don’t want to hurt her.

She sipped her cooling coffee.

Is it wrong for me to feel such fondness for James? Is it wrong for me to want to be with him? Am I being a foolish old woman?

Perhaps she was reading too much into that simple kiss. James hadn’t held her hand during the movie or tried to kiss her again after he took her home. Perhaps they were friends and nothing more.

Do I want it to be something more?

“Yes,” she whispered, her heart acknowledging the admission with its quickened beat. “Yes, I think I do.”

* * *

The Scott family photograph album lay open on the coffee table. It was a thick book, lovingly assembled by Martha through the decades. The cover had changed several times, as had the type of binding. At first, it had been a simple affair. But after his wife took a scrapbooking class about a decade or so ago, the album had become a work of art, beautifully detailing the years of their marriage: James and Martha’s wedding day, the births of each of their children, vacations at the shore, and countless firsts—first teeth, first steps, first days of school, first home, first brand-new not-previously-owned automobile.

Photographs of the children graduating from high school, then college. Photographs of the children’s weddings. Photographs of the grandchildren.

James flipped slowly through the pages that chronicled forty-seven years of his life. Sometimes he smiled. Once or twice he wiped away a tear. Always he remembered and was grateful.

When Martha died, James thought this album was complete, but of course, it wasn’t. Nor should it be. Another chapter of the story was finished. That was all. Just a chapter. Not the book.

The two weeks since he’d arrived in Hart’s Crossing had proved that.

And today he’d discovered something new: James Scott was in love. Unexpectedly, completely in love with Stephanie Carlson Watson, his childhood sweetheart. After a fifty-two-year detour, his heart had returned to that first, innocent love of his youth.

Who would have imagined that was possible? Not James. His marriage to Martha had been a happy one. They’d had their ups and downs, of course. He and Martha had been known to fight with passion. They’d made up the same way. But love—or lack of it—had never been an issue. He’d never been tempted to be unfaithful. Never.

He toyed with that thought a moment. Was he being unfaithful to Martha by falling in love with Stephanie?

No, his heart answered with confidence. He even thought Martha would be pleased, were it possible for her to look down from heaven and see him today, because she’d been one of the most unselfish, truly giving people James had ever known.

Somehow he doubted his children, especially Jenna, would see it that way.

He closed the album, then covered his face with his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs.

Lord, I’m in love with Steph, and I want to spend what years I can with her. I’ve got the feeling that’s why you brought me back to Hart’s Crossing. So unless you show me otherwise, I’m going to ask her to marry me.

He ran his fingers through his gray hair.

And Lord, I haven’t proposed to a girl since I was a G.I. I was just a kid. This time, I’m going to need your help and lots of it.

Chapter 7

THE FIRST SUNDAY JAMES visited Hart’s Crossing Community Church, he’d come alone. He’d sat beside Stephanie because she was the first person he saw whom he knew. The next Sunday—the one following their night at the Apollo—he’d come alone but looked for her and only her.

This Sunday was a different story. He’d arranged to escort Stephanie to church, after which the two of them would drive to the resort located in the mountains north of Hart’s Crossing. At the Timber Creek Lodge, they would enjoy a sumptuous dinner prepared by a French chef of some renown.

What happened after that would be up to Stephanie.

James had a hard time concentrating on the sermon, and even singing one of his favorite hymns, “Rock of Ages,” didn’t help the nerves twisting in his belly. He was mightily relieved to hear the benediction spoken. He hoped Stephanie wouldn’t be prone to linger and visit.

She must have read his mind. While she was polite, nodding her head and saying good morning to this friend and that, she didn’t allow anyone to delay their departure. In short order, they were seated in James’s Buick and driving out of town.

Once they reached the highway and a cruising speed of fifty-five, James said, “I have some music CDs in the player. Instrumentals. No singing. Would you like to hear them?”

“That would be lovely.”

He pushed a button, and the soft sounds of stringed instruments came through the speakers.

James cleared his throat, feeling the need for conversation. “I was hoping your daughter would be in church this morning. I’ve wanted to meet her.”

“Miranda and her family attend the Baptist church over on Park Street. Didn’t I tell you that?”

Maybe she had. They’d talked about many things—their children, their grandchildren, his career, her hobbies, the Bible, sports, people they knew as children in Hart’s Crossing, and so much more.

“When Miranda got married, she wanted to establish a life separate from her father and me, and that included going to a different church. She feared that too many people would still think of her as Stephanie and Chuck’s daughter rather than as an adult. She wanted to make her own traditions and not feel as if she was still tied to her mother’s apron strings.” She paused briefly, then added, “Not that she
was
tied to them. Miranda was always fiercely independent, even as a toddler.”

“Sounds like my Jenna.” James laughed softly. “The word
independent
doesn’t begin to describe her. For a long time, her mother and I doubted she would give up her precious autonomy for a more traditional lifestyle of love and marriage. But when she was thirty-six, she met Ray, and she fell for him. Hard.”
A lot like her dad at the age of seventy.
“They were married just a few months later.”

“Love is a wonderful thing.”

James glanced quickly to his right, then back at the road. “Yes.”

“You and I were very blessed to find the partners we did.”