A Family For The Holidays
When two orphaned boys and their aunt arrive for Thanksgiving supper at church, retired army colonel Brett Stanton feels his heart tugged. Despite having her hands full, young businesswoman Haley Jennings handles her nephews with a smile. Still, Brett canât get too close to the needy trio. He lost his son and brother to the uniform, and isnât about to set himself up for loss again. Soon sweet Haley and the boys remind him of old dreamsâand teach him that new dreams provide the greatest hope for a perfect family Christmas.
This man had a take-charge attitude that calmed Haley without a word being spoken.
Colonel Brett Stanton squatted to the boysâ level, but didnât invade their space. His sensitivity loosened their grip on Haleyâs hands, as if they were willing to meet the big guy halfway. A neat trick, all told.
âYou hungry, boys?â
âYes.â Todd nodded, emphatic.
âStarving.â Tyler sent a bullish look Haleyâs way. âShe drove all day.â
The man appeared to weigh Tylerâs words. âTraveling on a holiday can be tough.â Deep hazel eyes held her attention for short seconds but long enough to make her heart trip faster. Beat harder. âDoes she have a name?â
âAunt Haley.â Tyler said the words with more than a little distrust.
âSheâs pwetty.â Todd leaned a little closer to the man now, too, following his brotherâs lead. âAnd I like her yellow hair.â
âItâs drop-dead gorgeous,â the man agreed easily. He tossed that crooked smile up to Haley, winked at her and reached for the boysâ hands. âYou guys ready to have Thanksgiving dinner with us?â
RUTH LOGAN HERNE
Born into poverty, Ruth puts great stock in one of her favorite Ben Franklinisms: âHaving been poor is no shame. Being ashamed of it is.â With God-given appreciation for the amazing opportunities abounding in our land, Ruth finds simple gifts in the everyday blessings of smudge-faced small children, bright flowers, freshly baked goods, good friends, family, puppies and higher education. She believes a good woman should never fear dirt, snakes or spiders, all of which like to infest her aged farmhouse, necessitating a good pair of tongs for extracting the snakes, a flat-bottomed shoe for the spiders, and for the dirt...
Simply put, sheâs learned that some things arenât worth fretting about! If you laugh in the face of dust and love to talk about God, men, romance, great shoes and wonderful food, feel free to contact Ruth through her website at www.ruthloganherne.com.
These things I have spoken unto you,
that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.
âJohn 16:33
This book is dedicated to LuAnn and Charlie Koch, dear friends who shared so much with so many.
God certainly blessed me when he put you guys in my life over thirty years ago. Your love for God and Allegany County fed mine.
And to Melissa Endlich,
whose ongoing advice, humor and guidance blesses each and every book I write, even though the image of a non-coffee-drinking NYC editor just seems wrong. So wrong!
Acknowledgments
First to LuAnn and Charlie for the stories they shared. To Dana Guinnip of Angelica, New York,
for his advice on firefighting, chicken and biscuits and where to stage an accident scene. To The Seekers (www.seekerville.blogspot.com) for their constant support and encouragement. You guys keep me laughing and grounded. To Tina and Mary for road-tripping with me when so few dare! To Deb Giusti for always answering my military questions and never acting tired. To Homer Marple for establishing the Craft and Antique Co-op. His vision inspired âBennington Station.â To Vince, who is never afraid to challenge me, and I love a good challenge. To Beth and Mandy for their continued hands-on help with little things that make me look way smoother than I am. And my family, who continue to believe that following your dream is the best way to go. I couldnât agree more. Thank you for the daily encouragement, the hugs, the grins and the book sales. You guys mean the world to me.
Chapter One
Despair should never be allowed to rule Thanksgiving Day.
Haley Jennings eyed the two camouflage-clad little boys in her backseat, mentally searching for anything she might have ever learned about children in her twenty-eight years on the planet.
She came up empty. That didnât sound promising for the orphaned nephews now in her care.
Tear tracks snaked a path down three-year-old Toddâs round cheeks, a worn, black stuffed kitty named Panther clutched tight against his chest. Five-year-old Tyler slumped against the corner of the car, burrowing, as if hoping to disappear into the upholstery. He shed no tears, but the quiet look of abandonment seemed worse for lack of emotion.