The Promise of Home. Kathryn Springer

perfect, Abby,” Emma said. “And the colors just happen to coordinate with the curtains I brought over.”

       For some reason, the rest of the women smiled when she emphasized the word.

       “How much do I owe you?” Jenna had read the home style section of Twin City Trends often enough to know that a custom designed rug this size would have cost a small fortune.

       “It’s a gift.” Abby linked her arm through Jenna’s. “A reminder that God provides exactly what we need when we need it.”

       Jenna didn’t know how to respond to that. It was something she’d often heard Caitlin Walsh say, but she’d never experienced it before. It was risky to wait. To hope that someone would notice her. That someone would…care.

       “He does,” Abby murmured.

       Jenna stared at her, afraid she’d voiced the thought out loud, but the other woman was already gliding away.

       “We’ll have this place looking like home in no time,” Zoey said, a determined gleam in her eyes as she advanced on the dusty bearskin rug tacked to the wall.

       “Okay, sisters.” Kate tightened the knot on the bandana covering her copper curls as if she were preparing for battle. “Divide and conquer.”

      * * *

       Dev tossed a piece of birch bark into the campfire and sat back to enjoy the shower of sparks as the flames consumed it. There had been a time when he would have scoffed at such simple entertainment. When he’d believed that a man who had time to sit by a campfire had too much time.

       He took out his pocketknife and began to sharpen the end of a stick.

       Violet, stretched out on a old trapper’s blanket beside him, lifted her head and stared into the deepening shadows at the edge of the woods.

       Dev had a hunch he knew what—or who—had caught the dog’s attention.

       For the past few days, Logan Gardner had been sneaking across the property line to play with Violet. And when he didn’t show up, Violet had been sneaking across the property line to play with him.

       Dev figured it was only a matter of time until Jenna marched over to register a formal complaint.

       “Violet.” He crooked a finger at the blanket, earning a reproachful look. The same one he’d seen the last time he’d given her a bath. “Stay.”

       She flopped back down, her heavy sigh questioning the fairness of the command.

       “Trust me—it’s for your own good,” Dev told the dog.

       His, too. The less contact he had with Jenna the better. Dev had spent the last five years trying to simplify his life, and everything about the woman shouted complicated.

       The fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her proved it.

       “Hi, Mr. McGuire.” Logan slunk out of the woods a few seconds later, shoulders hunched as if he were unsure of his welcome. A coonskin cap, the kind sold at every souvenir store in the county, drooped over one bright blue eye.

       “It’s Dev, remember?”

       Logan shuffled closer, the faux raccoon tail swinging over one shoulder like a furry pendulum. “I smelled smoke, and I wanted to make sure you and Violet were okay.”

       The anxious look in the boy’s eyes reminded Dev that he’d recently witnessed a fire, one that hadn’t been contained in a circle of stones. Jenna had claimed that no one had been hurt, but Dev knew from experience that not all injuries were visible on the outside.

       Guilt tweaked his conscience. He’d been traveling a lot since the beginning of summer, but how could he have been ignorant of the fact there were two children living next door?

       Other than the day he’d met Jenna, he hadn’t heard a peep out of them. Not even Violet had alerted Dev to their presence.

       “I appreciate your concern,” he told Logan gently. “But it’s just a campfire. I usually cook my dinner out here in the evenings.”

       Violet lifted her nose to sniff the raccoon tail and Logan giggled. “She thinks it’s real.”