JILLIAN HART
makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she loves to read, go to lunch with her friends and spend quiet evenings with her family.
A Handful of Heaven
Jillian Hart
When I am afraid, I will trust in You.
—Psalms 56:3
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing A Handful of Heaven. I hope you enjoyed reading Paige and Evan’s story as much as I did writing it. Paige and Evan were both heartbroken from their marriages and they found it easier, each in their own way, to live without love. Better to be safe than to be hurt like that ever again. I wrote this story because I wanted to remind others that it’s never too late for wonderful blessings to come into a person’s life. True love can be just around the corner. As hard as it is to trust again, it is worth the risk to live with a whole and loving heart.
Wishing you peace and love,
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
Chapter One
“Hey, Mom!” The diner’s back door slammed shut with an icy gust of wind. Heavy boots tromped across the clean kitchen floor. “I took the garbage out. The bathrooms are spotless. I even cleaned the milkshake machine.”
Paige McKaslin turned from the prep table to take one look at her seventeen-year-old son who was giving her “The Eye,” as she called it, the one meant to charm her. He’d been using it effectively since he was fifteen months old. Alex was tall, blond and athletic and rangy. One day he would fill out those wide shoulders of his, but in the meantime he was eating as though he had two hollow legs. “You just had supper. Do you need two chocolate doughnuts?”
“You don’t wanna stunt my growth, Ma!” He pretended to be shocked but those baby blues of his were twinkling. “Can I go? The movie starts at eight and Beth doesn’t like to miss the previews.”
One thing a mother didn’t want her teenage boy to have—aside from the keys to her car—was a girlfriend. Especially a girl who did not belong to their church or any church in the county. “You behave, and remember what I told you.”
“Yeah, I know, I’ll be a gentleman. As if!” He rolled his eyes, his grin widening because he’d achieved victory. “I’m outta here.”
“Drive safely. It’s icy out there.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I passed my driver’s test, remember?”
As if she could forget. Letting go was hard but necessary. She bit her lip. Alex was a good driver even if he was young and inexperienced. “Don’t forget to call me at the diner the second you get home—before your curfew.”
“Mom, I know the drill. See ya!” He pounded out of sight, whistling. The back door slammed shut and he was gone.
Off to any kind of danger.
Paige bussed the eight plates from the Corey family’s party.
She’d thought nothing could be more worrying than having a toddler. Alex had been such an active little tyke, and fast. She’d been a wreck trying to stay one step ahead of him, worrying what he would try to choke on next. Or electrocute himself with next. Or fall off of and break open his skull next. How she’d worried!
Little had she imagined all those years ago that her sweet little boy was going to turn into a teenager and do something even more dangerous than try to stick pennies in electrical sockets. He would drive. She dealt with that the way she always dealt with anxiety—she just tried hard not to think about it.
“I had that same look of sheer panic,” Evan Thornton commented as she shot down the aisle. “It was right after each of my boys got their licenses. I don’t think I’ve calmed down yet, and they’re both in college now.”
“No, of course you’re not calm because they are probably out there driving around somewhere.”
Evan chuckled, and the fine laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled handsomely. “Exactly. It’s hard not to be overprotective. You get sort of fond of ’em.”
She heard what he didn’t say. There was no stronger love than a parent’s love. “Lord knows why.” She balanced the plate-filled dishpan on her hip. “Would you like a refill on your fries?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll be right back. Looks like you need more cola, too.” She flashed him a smile on her way by.
Evan had been frequenting the diner most evenings. Bless her regular customers who gave this tough job its saving grace. She did like making a difference, even if it was only cooking or serving a meal that they weren’t in the mood to fix for themselves.
On the way down the aisle, she stopped to leave the bill with a couple who looked as if they had wandered in off the interstate. They still had that road-weary look to them. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Oh, no thanks.” The woman, who was about Paige’s age, tried to manage a weak smile, but failed. Sadness lingered in her dark eyes. “I suppose we ought to be heading on.”
“Will you be traveling far? I have a friend who owns a nice little bed and breakfast in Bozeman. It’s the most restful place and reasonably priced. If you’re staying in the area, I could give her a call for you. No pressure, I just thought I’d try to help.” Paige slipped their bill on the edge of the table.
“Sounds like just what I need, but we have a funeral we’re expected at in Fargo in the morning. The airlines were full, and so we’re driving straight through.” Tears rushed to the surface.
Paige whipped a pack of tissues from her apron pocket and slipped it onto the table. “I’m so sorry.”
“Th-thank you.” The woman covered her face, her grief overtaking her.
Her husband shrugged his shoulders. “We’re going through a tough time.”
“I know how that is. Let me know if you need anything.”
Not wanting to intrude, Paige backed away, the memory of her own losses made fresh by the woman’s grief. The day her parents had died had been the day after her sixteenth birthday, and it was as if the sun had gone out.
Time had healed the wound, but nothing had ever been the same again. She was thirty-eight, on the edge of turning thirty-nine—eek! But time had a strange elasticity to it, snapping her back over two decades to that pivotal loss.
Maybe there’s something I can do to make the woman’s journey easier. In the relative calm of the late evening