Whispers Of The Heart
Autumn Barbour was shy, private, solitary–and seemingly content. Yet it was fear that kept her from following her dreams of a husband and a family. Until the day a bold and broad-shouldered widower and his bubbly little boy invaded her isolation…Architect and civic leader Brent Hyatt had found a cause in Autumn. He and his tiny son opened her world to sunshine and puppies. They brought her to a church called Hope and taught her that faith could move mountains and conquer any fear. Now it was up to Autumn to free her heart and claim the family of her dreams.
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Autumn was not unhappy.
Many things brought her enjoyment.
Yet it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
She didn’t want to remain alone forever. All her life she’d felt a hunger to belong to someone, to be cherished and loved. To have someone who would never leave her, never desert her.
Autumn wanted that more than life. To give love and give herself to a mate.
She glanced up at Brent. And felt more vulnerable than she had in years.
Her protective wall had been breached. She wanted to freely love Brent and his little boy.
And something in his gaze told her he knew exactly what she wanted….
RUTH SCOFIELD
became serious about writing after she’d raised her children. Until then, she’d concentrated her life on being a June Cleaver-type wife and mother, spent years as a Bible student and teacher for teens and young adults and led a weekly women’s prayer group. When she’d made a final wedding dress and her last child had left the nest, she declared to one and all that it was her turn to activate a dream. Thankfully her husband applauded her decision.
Ruth began school in an old-fashioned rural two-room schoolhouse and grew up in the days before television, giving substance to her notion that she still has one foot in the last century. However, active involvement with six rambunctious grandchildren has her eagerly looking forward to the next millennium. After living on the East Coast for years, Ruth and her husband now live in Missouri.
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.
—Hebrews 11:1, 2
Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.
—Hebrews 13:5b
To my sister, Joyce Burke, artist extraordinaire, who brushes every soul she meets with the vivid colors of her own faith and love.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Letter to Reader
Prologue
Brent Hyatt leaned against the door frame of the unfurnished, unfinished loft apartment watching the three women inspect the space. Two, obviously, were sisters; twins, if he didn’t miss his guess, though they didn’t look exactly alike. Young twenties, he thought, pretty and raring to locate where others of the under thirty set hung out. Though the Riverfront Market area wasn’t exactly Westport, it had its growing interest among the younger crowd.
The third woman, midforties, appeared to be a real estate agent.
“I think this has wonderful possibilities, don’t you, Autumn?” one of the sisters said. The other, gazing out the north window, seemed to be in deep contemplation and didn’t reply.
“It’s a great deal,” the real estate person added enthusiastically. “But you’ll have to make up your mind fairly fast. Most of these new loft apartments are rentals, not up for sale like this one, and this particular block is becoming more popular and filling up fast. The building across the street is already half taken, and like this one, the top two floors are residential apartments. You won’t be lacking neighbors.”
Brent glanced at his watch, knowing he’d arrived early for his own appointment to view the place with Laureen Shore, a friend who was also a real estate agent. He planned to keep his word to look at the apartment, but he already knew it wouldn’t do. He wanted a first-floor office for his architecture design firm and probably would take the one across the street.
“You can have everything finished in a month’s time and pretty much to your own specifications.” The Realtor pushed her sales points as she finished speaking, then glanced a question toward the sister who had spoken.
The woman at the window held silent, the long lines of her slender, long-limbed form unmoving. Only a quarter profile showed a tender edge of mouth and chin, a tip of nose.
“Arranging the space to suit your purposes has its appeal, don’t you think, Autumn?” her sister spoke again, a persuasive note in her voice. “And the morning light is excellent.”
The woman unexpectedly turned swiftly, the words, “Yes, Spring. I’ll take it,” tumbling from her mouth before she spotted him lounging in the doorway. Whatever else she was about to say died without a whimper. She simply stared at him. The other two women turned just as Laureen came up behind him.
“Oh, Brent. I’m sorry to be late,” Laureen said. Then spying the other party, she turned her attention their way. “Oh, hello, Eleanor. Didn’t know you were showing the apartment this morning. We don’t mean to intrude.”
“No prob, Laureen,” the other Realtor replied. “You can show the place if you want to, but I believe my client has first claim on it.”
“Hmm…too bad,” Laureen commented, repositioning her black leather purse over her shoulder. “The view is good from here. Come along in, Brent, and take a peek.”
“Hi, ladies.” He smiled in a friendly way, sauntering into the room’s center as he spoke. “Great location for small businesses. What kind of space and visibility are you searching for?”
