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Authors: Robin Lee Hatcher

Tags: #Domestic fiction; American, #Christian, #Neighborhood, #Neighborhoods, #Christian fiction; American, #Family Life, #General, #Romance, #Love stories; American, #Large Type Books, #Fiction, #Religious, #Contemporary

BOOK: Home to Hart's Crossing
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She saw Police Chief Coble a couple rows further back. Who was that blonde beside him? Could that be his daughter? The last time Patti saw her, Cassandra had been a gawky kid in middle school. No more.

The music changed. Patti looked over her shoulder to see the mother of the bride being escorted down the aisle. Patti’s gaze shifted to the usher. The church went silent, and the world shifted on its axis.

The ceremony was half over before Patti fully recovered.

* * *

The wedding reception was held outdoors at Hart’s Crossing’s golf course. Patti congratulated the bride—Olivia, her best friend in elementary school—and the groom before moving to the refreshment table, where she was handed a cup of punch.

“Patti Sinclair. Is that you?”

She turned to see another familiar face.

“I’m Eric Bedford. Remember me?”

“Of course. You played the drums in the middle school band one year. That was the year Toby Kasner broke your nose with a drumstick.”

“Ouch.” He touched the bridge of his nose. “I’d almost forgotten.”

“I’ll never forget. Blood gushed everywhere. It was like a war zone.”

He laughed, then asked, “So where are you living now?”

“Nampa. How about you?”

“Right here. The old Bedford roots go pretty deep. Dad’s still farming. My brother got his degree and is teaching school here.” His eyebrows raised. “Speak of the devil. Hey, Al. Come over here.”

Patti turned her head, ready to greet Eric’s brother, and the earth tilted for the second time that day. That golden hair. Those green eyes. That crooked smile. Those broad shoulders.

“Al, this is Patti Sinclair. She used to live in Hart’s Crossing. Did you two ever meet?”

“Not sure. Maybe.” Al held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Patti.”

If they’d met before, Patti would remember. Either that or Al Bedford had changed a lot in the past seven years.

Eric said, “She’s living in Nampa.”

“Do you like it there?”

She nodded, tongue-tied and breathless.

“Care to sit down?” Al asked.

“That would be nice.” Hopefully she could walk on her rubbery legs.

She didn’t know what happened to Eric. By the time she and Al reached one of the white plastic tables placed under a large canopy, Al’s younger brother was no longer around. Just as well, since the table Al chose had only two chairs. He held one for her.

So he was a gentleman as well as handsome. When was the last time she’d stumbled upon that combination?

“What do you do in Nampa?” Al sat in the other chair.

“I’m an editor at a small publishing house. I was hired part time while in college, and they offered me a full-time position after I graduated.”

“Do you enjoy the work?”

“Yes.” The way he watched her made her insides go all aflutter. She lowered her gaze to her hands. “Eric says you’re a teacher. What subject?”

“Everything. I teach sixth graders at the elementary school.”

His answer surprised her. For some reason, she’d expected him to say history or algebra or some other class taught at the high school level.

She asked another question. He answered and asked his own.

Patti shared about her mom’s divorce when she was in middle school. Al shared about the recent death of his grandfather, a farmer like his dad. She shared about her move to Boise at the age of sixteen and how difficult it had been to feel comfortable with city life, though she loved it now. He shared how eager he’d been to finish college and get his teaching certificate so he could return to Hart’s Crossing. She shared her love of books and the theater. He shared his passion for golf and basketball. She mentioned her cat. He told funny stories about his dog.

And in the midst of it all, there came a moment when Patti knew that Al Bedford was destined to be part of her future. At least she hoped so with all her heart.

Chapter 1

August 2006

SOFT MEWLING SOUNDS AWAKENED Patti at 3:00 a.m. She lay still, hoping Al would get up and be able to walk the baby back to sleep. Trouble was, if she waited too long, the cries of one twin would wake the other.

She heard Al’s breathing, a sound not quite a snore but close enough. As she slipped from beneath the sheet and lightweight blanket, she felt a spark of irritation. Not at their precious twins, but at her husband. Why did he get to sleep when she didn’t?

The two bassinets—one pink, one blue—were set in the far corner of the master bedroom. Moonlight, falling through the window, illuminated her way across the room. Placing one hand on each bassinet, she leaned over to see which baby was fussing. Like his father, Weston didn’t budge. Sunni, however, punched the air with tiny fists, warming up for a good cry.

“Shh,” Patti whispered as she lifted her infant daughter. “Mommy’s here. Shh.”

A short while later, as the baby nursed at her breast, Patti set the rocking chair in motion and stared out the window of the family room. The silvery-white moonlight bathed the rooftop of the house across the back fence. Somewhere in the neighborhood, a dog barked. Soon another dog replied. It was a strangely comforting sound.

She and Al had purchased this home in a new subdivision on the east side of Hart’s Crossing last spring. She’d fallen in love with it upon entering through the front door. If they were going to stay in this small town, then this was the home she wanted to live in. Yes, the mortgage was higher than what they wanted, but whose wasn’t? At least they were investing their money instead of throwing it away on rent. She just wished there was a little more of Al’s paycheck left over each month after they paid their bills.

She leaned her head against the back of the rocker and closed her eyes as the memory of their latest argument played through her head.

 “We could move to Boise. You’d make more money in a larger school district, and you’d have more opportunities for advancement.”

“There’s more to life than money, Patti. I want our kids to grow up in Hart’s Crossing. We’ve talked about that. I like my job. I like the people I work with. I know and love the kids I teach. There’s no reason to leave.”

“Raising children is expensive. Have you seen the doctor and hospital bills?”

“We’ll manage.”

Tears spilled from beneath her eyelids, trailing down her cheeks. She and Al never used to fight. Now they seemed to disagree about everything. Her mother said it was whacked-out hormones and too little sleep. Maybe that was true. Maybe not.

Her gaze lowered to the infant in her arms. Sunni slept again, her mouth gone slack.

Why can’t I be content with things as they are?

Guilt surged. She had much to be thankful for. And she
was
thankful. Truly, she was. The babies were healthy and strong despite their early arrival. Al loved teaching at Hart’s Crossing Elementary. Her wonderful mother-in-law dropped by as often as she could to help with the twins. The ladies of the Thimbleberry Quilting Club and her friends from church had showered the Bedford family with gifts.

And yet…

I’m sorry, God. I don’t mean to complain.

There was something else to feel guilty over. Her spiritual walk was almost nonexistent, except for church on Sundays. For several years it had been her habit to rise early to read her Bible and pray before she got ready for work. She’d loved those quiet times, sitting in the Lord’s presence, waiting for him to speak to her heart. When was the last time she’d read her Bible? When was the last time she’d heard God’s voice? Weeks? No. More like months.

With a sigh, she rose from the rocker and carried the baby to the pink bassinet in the bedroom.

If I just weren’t so tired all the time, maybe

As if on cue, Weston whimpered.

Patti cast an envious glance toward her sleeping husband before stepping toward the blue bassinet.

* * *

The
beep-beep
of the alarm clock awakened Al at 6:30. With a flailing arm, he managed to hit the snooze button without opening his eyes. He wanted five more minutes of sleep, and he didn’t need the alarm waking the twins.

This first week of the new school year had been rough. In the past, he’d looked forward to meeting his students and discovering more about each one of them, but he hadn’t had much rest since the babies were born. A sleep-deprived teacher had few defenses against the wiles of a bunch of sixth graders still getting into the groove after summer vacation.

“Al?”

So much for those last five minutes. “Hmm.”

“I didn’t make your sandwich last night. I forgot.”

He opened his eyes. Morning light filtered through the bedroom curtains. “That’s okay. I’ll get hot lunch with the kids. I think it’s burger day.” He turned his head on the pillow to look at his wife. Her eyes were closed.

“I was up and down with the babies three times in the night.” Patti pulled the sheet over her head as she rolled onto her side. “Try not to wake them.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He slid out of bed and made his way to the master bathroom, closing the door without a sound. He didn’t bother to flip the light switch. Enough daylight came through the block-glass window over the jetted tub.

Minutes later, freshly shaved, he stood beneath the shower spray, suds from the shampoo sliding in globs down his cheeks and neck as he used the bar of soap to lather the rest of his body. He wasn’t normally a guy who took long showers, but this morning he had to resist the desire to stand there, eyes closed, and catch those five extra minutes of sleep.

But he didn’t. Duty called
and so did eighteen eleven-year-olds.

After dressing in clothes he’d laid out the night before, he left the bathroom and walked to the edge of the bed, where he leaned down and kissed his wife on the forehead. Next he moved to the bassinets, where he smiled at his son and daughter, so sweet in slumber.

See you tonight
, he mouthed before leaving the bedroom.

Al was thankful the twins had arrived during the summer months. It had given him time to bond with them in a way many dads couldn’t because of their work schedules. He didn’t mind changing diapers or burping or bathing them. The only thing he couldn’t do was feed them. And even though there were times he might prefer his children had arrived one at a time, with a couple years in between, he wouldn’t trade Sunni and Weston for a million bucks.

He yawned as he grabbed his briefcase and car keys from the table near the back door, already planning to get a few minutes of shut-eye during the lunch break.

Chapter 2

“HONEY,” HER MOTHER SAID, “it’s time you found someone to watch the babies and give yourself a few hours out of the house.”

“How can I do that?” Patti shifted the cordless handset to her left ear and pressed it close with her shoulder, then continued folding towels. “Do you know how much sitters want per hour these days? Even in a small town like this one.”

“Are you telling me you have no friends who would watch those adorable babies for a couple of hours?”

“Of course I have friends who would do it if I asked. But I think they’re intimidated with two babies.”
I know I am sometimes
. “I’d hate to impose on them.” She released a sigh. “I wish you could have stayed in Hart’s Crossing longer.”

“Me too. But I’ve used the last of my vacation time for this year.”

“I know.” She swallowed another sigh.

“You heed my words. Get out of the house for a while. Even if it’s just long enough to get yourself a cup of coffee at the diner. You’ll have a better perspective on things if you do.”

Her mother made it sound so easy. If only…

“I’ve got to run, dear. I’m about to burn your stepfather’s dinner.”

“Bye, Mom. Give Doug my love.”

“I will. You do the same with Al.”

After setting aside the phone, Patti sank onto a chair at the kitchen table. Wouldn’t she love to take her mom’s advice? How much fun it would be to go down to Twin Falls to spend a few hours at the mall. Or maybe drive up to the resort for a nice dinner with her husband. It felt as if she and Al hadn’t talked to each other in ages, other than to say, “Would you change her diaper?” or “Can you fold the laundry?” or “Where’s dinner?”

Or to argue. Again.

And though she was loathe to admit it, she started too many of those arguments. What was wrong with her? Why did she pick fights with him? It wasn’t for sport. She preferred peace. She preferred laughter.

Patti swept loose strands of hair back from her face as her gaze moved around the kitchen. Breakfast dishes were in the sink, and the dishwasher needed to be emptied. Clean baby clothes, sheets, and towels
about four loads’ worth of laundry
had yet to be folded. Al would be home in less than an hour, and she hadn’t given a thought to dinner. Was anything defrosted?

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