makes us who we are, and the future is something for us to reach toward. The present is where we make our true impact, as we go through each day doing the best we can with the circumstances we find ourselves in. Liberty Creek—and the people who live there—embody this idea perfectly. I hope you’ve enjoyed this charming place, with its frozen-in-time appearance and its warm, friendly people. I know I did.
If you’d like to stop in and see what I’ve been up to, you’ll find me online at www.miaross.com, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads. While you’re there, send me a message in your favorite format. I’d love to hear from you!
Mia Ross
For with God nothing shall be impossible.
—Luke 1:37
This one’s for you, Dad.
I miss you every day.
To Melissa Endlich and the dedicated staff at Love Inspired. These very talented folks help me make my books everything they can be.
More thanks to the gang at Seekerville (www.seekerville.blogspot.com), a great place to hang out with readers—and writers.
I’ve been blessed with a wonderful network of supportive, encouraging family and friends. You inspire me every day!
Contents
“Miss Calhoun! Miss Calhoun!”
At the sound of a child’s voice calling out her name, Emma looked into the crowd milling around the annual Liberty Creek Arts and Crafts Show. It was a gorgeous New Hampshire day in early May, and there were dozens of kids in the tree-shaded square who might have shouted to her. Being the elementary school’s only art teacher, she knew most of the young ones in town, so it could have been any one of them.
Then she caught sight of a little girl running toward her stand near the white gazebo, hand waving enthusiastically in the air, a riot of blond curls bouncing behind her. When she stopped in front of Emma’s jewelry stand, her cheeks were pink from the exercise, her china-blue eyes shining in excitement as she exhaled a breathless “Hello.”
“Hello to you, too, Caitlin,” Emma replied, stepping out to give the bright kindergartener a hug. “I’m so glad you found me.”
“There’s a lot of people here,” she agreed, glancing around before looking back at Emma. “But my daddy’s tall, so he saw you from way over there.”
She pointed to the edge of the park, and Emma followed the motion to see Rick Marshall, the bank’s new assistant manager, moving toward them, carrying a smaller version of Caitlin in his arms. They’d met a few times at school functions, but she’d never spent more than a few minutes chatting with him. Wearing khaki shorts and a dark blue polo shirt, he had the look of someone who spent his days in suits and ties and was happy to be dressed down for the weekend.
The sun picked up some highlights in his brown hair, not to mention the color of his eyes that echoed his daughters’. His wife was a very fortunate woman, Emma mused as he joined them. “Good afternoon, Mr. Marshall. How are you today?”
“Just fine,” he replied with an easy smile. “And I know I’ve told you at least twice to call me Rick.”
Emma made it a policy to address her students’ parents—especially the good-looking fathers—in a formal way that couldn’t possibly be misinterpreted as flirting. Being twenty-six and single was hard enough without creating the kind of wrong impression that could earn her a reprimand from the district superintendent or a complaint from a jealous wife.
So she ignored the chiding and focused on the adorable cherub he held. “You must be Aubrey. Caitlin has told me a lot about you during art class, but it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
The child gave her a bashful half smile before burying her head in her father’s chest.
“She’s a little shy,” Caitlin explained, patting her sister’s back in a comforting way that said she did it often. “Being four is scary.”
“It certainly is,” Emma confirmed, directing her comments to the older girl to avoid frightening the younger one. “Even grown-ups get scared about new things sometimes. That’s why it’s good to have a