A Holiday for Healing
As December dawns in the Superstition Mountains, Cooper Smith is resigned to spending another Christmas alone. With his dad gone, his mom ailing and his younger brother in trouble, Cooperâs only wish for the holidays is to keep his fatherâs outfitting store going. But when his former high school sweetheart, Elise Hubrecht, unexpectedly returns to her familyâs ranch, Cooper puts one more item on his to-do list. If he can get Elise to face the tragedy that made her leave Apache Creek, he may get the chance of a lifetime: a second chance at lasting love.
âBack in town so soon?â Cooper asked.
âI got laid off, so Iâm moving back home and taking that job at the high school,â Elise replied.
âSorry to hear that.â
âSorry to hear I got laid off or sorry to hear Iâm moving back home?â
âLaid off. Itâs not easy making a change. Up until a year ago, I worked in Moab, Utah. I was just beginning to make a life for myself.â
âYou came because your family needed you,â Elise pointed out.
âDidnât make it any easier.â
âYouâre right. But there is no other work. I spent the last month checking out the job market.â
âSo, Apache Creek High School is your only option?â
The wind picked up, blowing her hair across her face. âItâs the option Iâm accepting.â Cooper tried not to let it bother him that Apache Creek was a last resort. The Elise he knew had loved it here. It was wrong that Elise didnât feel excited about moving back home.
Just as much as it had been wrong for her to walk away from him, from the life theyâd planned.
Chapter One
Storm clouds rolled in the Arizona sky, a black-and-gray blanket that sank lower even as Cooper Smith watched. One drop hit his forehead. He whooped, then turned and headed inside his store, AJâs Outfitters. His cell phone was out and in his hand before he made it to the counter. He had five regulars who went gold-panning with him on the Superstition after every rain. Plus, this trip, he had three other numbers to call: tourists who had come into his store to buy expedition gear and had shown an interest in going panning. That meant paying customers.
Something AJâs sorely needed.
Heâd gotten hold of all but two when an incoming call interrupted him.
It wasnât someone wanting to go panning tomorrow. Instead a deep voice, one he recognized well, said, âI just saw your brother doing doughnuts in your truck in the parking lot of the Apache Creek fairgrounds.â
Cooper closed his eyes. Lately, it was one thing after another with his little brother and each and every incident landed at Cooperâs feet. âYou sure it was him?â
It was a stupid question, and Cooper didnât even bother to pray that Jacob Hubrecht was wrong. Still, there was nothing quite like having an elder of the church, and your ex-girlfriendâs father, phone you right after you switched the Closed sign to Open.
Cooperâs little brother, just turned eighteen and ten years younger but an inch taller, was skipping school again. Just six months to go and the kid would graduate. Maybe.
âNothing wrong with my vision,â Jacob answered. âEven in the rain.â
There was nothing wrong with Cooperâs, either. He opened his eyes and looked around the store. Only three customers, one family really, and only the four-year-old appeared to be the potential sale. He held a foolâs gold necklace in hand. Cost: five dollars.
Business was down, and Cooper was still learning how to manage the storekeeping part of his responsibility instead of just the guide part. Going panning tomorrow meant Garrett had to work the store. Cooper would bring in three hundred dollars from the three tourists. That might just double their Saturday total.
Cooper didnât know what more he could do except pray. Lately, heâd not said any prayers for himself until after amen. Sometimes, before falling into an exhausted sleep, he added an addendum, a simple plea: Help me, God.
Last time heâd prayed this much was a good ten months ago.
Mitch Smith, his father, had left a big hole to fill when heâd passed away in February, and the hole looked to be getting deeper as the first Christmas without him loomed less than five weeks away.