Love one Another. Valerie HansenЧитать онлайн книгу.
Tina flattened her palms against his chest so she could push him away.
Do it! her conscience ordered. Give him a shove and tell him to go home.
I will, Tina reassured herself. Any second now. Yes, sir. I’ll call a halt to this ridiculous game we’re playing.
Only, she didn’t. There seemed to be a short circuit in the communications between her will and her body. There she sat, practically stupefied, while a man she cared about prepared to make his second terrible mistake. The first had been their first kiss. The second would be more of the same. Unless she stopped it.
The weak protest she finally managed to make wouldn’t have been enough to deter anyone who didn’t respect her. Fortunately, Zac did.
He got to his feet and backed away from the swing. “Oh boy,” he said, a bit breathless. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
VALERIE HANSEN
was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.
Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line.
Life doesn’t get much better than that!
Love One Another
Valerie Hansen
A new commandment I give unto you.
That you love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.
—John 13:34
To all the wonderful people in my life
who are so easy to love, especially my husband, children, grandchildren and special Christian friends. And to the one person I find it so hard to forgive, for being the way the Lord has chosen to show me that I’m not perfect…yet.
Contents
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
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Tina Braddock bent over a low table, up to her elbows in green and yellow finger paint and up to her knees in preschool tots. It was fortunate the colors blended with her floral print skirt because Sissy Smith had a handful of the fabric and was tugging vigorously.
“Miss Tina! Miss Tina!”
“What is it, Sissy? Is your picture finished?”
The little blond girl ignored the question. “Miss Tina, look! A stranger.” She used both gooey hands to gather up the loose edge of her teacher’s apron and try to hide behind it.
Straightening, Tina looked toward the door. Her breath caught. Sissy was right. The man standing there was a stranger. The best-looking one she’d seen in longer than she could remember. His hair was brown and his eyes were so dark they were almost black. As if that weren’t enough, the good Lord had blessed him with about six feet of height and a stature that insisted he could pick up a small automobile all by himself and fling it across the room without even breaking a sweat.
Tina blinked herself back to reality as she smiled a greeting. “Hello. Can I help you?”
“I didn’t mean to scare the kids,” he said soberly. “I just came to look the place over before I enroll my son.”
She extricated herself from Sissy’s grasp, tossed her long light brown hair back over her shoulders without touching it, and crossed to him while wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m Tina Braddock.”
As he eyed her greenish-yellow fingers he hesitated, so she withdrew the offer to shake hands. “Oops. Sorry. I tend to forget. Not everyone gets as involved in all this as I do.”
“I can believe that.”
When he smiled down at Tina, the whole room suddenly seemed a hundred times brighter. “I’ll be glad to put your son on our waiting list. How old is he, Mr….?”
“I’m Zac Frazier,” the man said. “Justin’s just turned four.”
“Oh, good. We should have several openings in the four-year-old group in a month or so, as soon as school starts and some of my Picassos-in-training go on to kindergarten.”
“That’s not soon enough.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I just moved here and I need a place for my son right away. I thought you understood that.”
Tina remained firm. “Our rules are for the good of all the children here. Perhaps a private baby-sitter?”
“I can’t do that.” Frustrated, Zac raked the fingers of both hands through his thick, wavy hair. “Justin gets panicky if I leave him alone with adults. He’s better when he’s with kids his age.”
That’s odd, Tina thought. Children usually got upset when they were thrust into a group of unfamiliar kids, not when they were privy to an adult’s undivided attention.
“The more distractions, the better he seems to do,” Zac said. “That’s why I thought…”
The handsome daddy seemed to be having trouble deciding whether or not to explain further, so she encouraged him. “Why don’t you tell me a little about your son’s background, Mr. Frazier?”
“There’s not much to tell. Like I said, he’s only four.” Zac cleared his throat. “His mother died last year, when we lived up in Illinois. Since then, he hasn’t wanted to let me out of his sight.”
“Ah, I see.” Tina quelled the urge to reach out and comfort him with a sympathetic touch. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well…” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and struck a casual pose. “So, will you take him?”
“I can ask my boss. I suppose one more—”
Across the room, Sissy yowled. Tina whirled just in time to see redheaded Tommy McArthur upend a dish of yellow poster paint over her head. The thick goo pooled in her curls, then began to ooze over her forehead and trickle down her face.
“Tommy!” Racing back to the art table, Tina held out cupped hands to try to catch the worst of the mess.
Sissy chose that moment to shake her head like a kitten whose nose had been dunked into a saucer of milk. Globs of yellow pigment