Unexpected Family
His Surprise Daughter After five years apart, Tom Sheffield is shocked to find his ex-wife, Stephanie, on his doorstep. The news that they share a child he's never met sends him reeling. Four-year-old Macy has his eyes, his mouth and, from their first encounter, his heart. Things with her mother are much more complicated. He doesn't understand what went wrong between them or why she kept their daughter a secret. And he's afraid of falling in love all over again. Yet he feels a glimmer of hope that somehow he can convince Macy and Stephanie to stay in Lake Endwell–and with him–for keeps.
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His Surprise Daughter
After five years apart, Tom Sheffield is shocked to find his ex-wife, Stephanie, on his doorstep. The news that they share a child he’s never met sends him reeling. Four-year-old Macy has his eyes, his mouth and, from their first encounter, his heart. Things with her mother are much more complicated. He doesn’t understand what went wrong between them or why she kept their daughter a secret. And he’s afraid of falling in love all over again. Yet he feels a glimmer of hope that somehow he can convince Macy and Stephanie to stay in Lake Endwell—and with him—for keeps.
“It’s strange. Being here again.”
Stephanie scanned the room. “Brings back memories.”
“Any good ones?” The question slipped out.
She lowered her chin. “A few.”
“Well, most of my memories of us together were good.” Tom kept his voice low. The past pressed against his chest, his heart craving the release of honesty. All the times he’d blamed her for ruining his life had overshadowed one big fact: he’d loved her, loved being married to her, and those days, for him, had been good.
“Most of them?” She picked at the edge of her sweater.
“Until we fell apart.”
“Are you sure your memory isn’t tricking you?” Her tone held no trace of sarcasm.
“It’s not. I might not have been what you needed, but that time was special for me.” He grazed her hand.
She glanced at him, questions in her eyes.
“I know we can’t go back,” he said. “I just wanted you to know. I was happy being married to you.”
JILL KEMERER writes novels with love, humor and faith. Besides spoiling her mini dachshund and keeping up with her busy kids, Jill reads stacks of books, lives for her morning coffee and gushes over fluffy animals. She resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. Jill loves connecting with readers, so please visit her website, jillkemerer.com, or contact her at PO Box 2802, Whitehouse, OH 43571.
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
—Psalms 13:2
For Olivia and Brandon.
You make me a better person. I’m blessed by you each day!
Contents
Stephanie Sheffield climbed the creaking steps of the tan bungalow nestled in a clearing of dense woods. The covered porch looked lonely. A welcome mat would go a long way to cheer the space. If she owned a home like this, she would bring it to life with bundles of corn husks, pumpkins and a pot or two of burgundy mums.
But she wasn’t here to mentally redecorate.
Guilt had consumed her for five years. A sixth year wasn’t an option. Stomach tightening, Stephanie knocked.
Seconds ticked by without any movement inside. Maybe he wasn’t home. Maybe she had the wrong address. Or maybe God was giving her a grace period.
Grace? God may have forgiven her, but she still had to pay for her sins.
Stephanie rapped louder and turned to view the property. She half expected a deer to leap onto the lawn, moist from an autumn drizzle. Crimson leaves fluttered down from a tall maple, and the cobalt blue of Michigan’s Lake Endwell peeked through in the distance. The lake threatened to unleash memories, ones she couldn’t afford to think about right now.
A lone figure jogged down the country road. He rounded the drive, and her muscles tensed.
Tom.
Did he still hate her?
If he didn’t, he soon would.
Drawing closer, he slowed to a walk. Shock flashed in those sink-into-them blue eyes, eyes that once lured her. Tousled dark brown hair softened his cheekbones. His straight nose pointed to a determined chin. He looked more athletic, more rugged than she remembered. Why couldn’t he have aged badly? And why did seeing him again make her feel as though she’d downed a warm cup of tea?
Stephanie leaned against the peeling porch rail and winced as pain shot up her rib cage. Now that he’d appeared, she had no idea what to say. Everything she’d rehearsed during the thirty-minute drive jumbled in her brain.
“What happened?” Tom closed the distance between them, reaching to touch her bruised cheek, but he snatched his hand back before making contact. His unexpected tenderness almost undid her. She chased away the sudden yearning for his touch.
“It’s nothing. I was in an accident yesterday. My car was totaled, but I’m fine. Bruised ribs. A few scratches.”
“Why are you here?” The tenderness was snuffed out like the candles she lit to chase away smells in her apartment.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Inside maybe?”
“Why?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Because I’m about to shatter your world, and even strong Tom Sheffield will need a seat for this.
She gestured to the door.
He stood taller, legs shoulder width apart, intimidating in his gray sweatshirt and black shorts. The old Stephanie would have let him call the shots. But the old Stephanie had been a girl, not a woman in control of her life.
