Hometown Hope. Laurel Blount

the rest of it on his own.

      Probably not the best idea to go into any of that with Anna right now.

      “My point is there’s plenty you can do to bring in some more business, even without a lot of money to invest. Maybe you’ll have to get a little more creative, but if you do some cross-promotions with other local business owners—”

      Anna shook her head. “Look, Hoyt, I appreciate the offer, and I understand that you want to do whatever it takes to keep Jess talking. I do. But making the decision to close my father’s bookstore wasn’t something I did lightly. There’s nothing that can be done at this point.”

      His frustration level bobbed upward. She wasn’t listening to him, and he thought he knew why. “Nothing that can be done? Or nothing I can do?”

      Anna sighed. “It’s the same thing, Hoyt. Although, believe me, I do appreciate the fact that you, of all people, are trying to save a bookstore.”

       You. Of all people.

      Something about that wry remark hit him a little too hard, and before he thought better of it, he hit back.

      “Maybe I’m not much on books, Anna, but I’m turning down construction jobs right now. Trish Saunders didn’t go to college, either, but that flower shop she started on a shoestring seems to be doing all right, too. Believe it or not, out here in the real world people learn some pretty useful things outside of a classroom. If you’d ever pulled your nose out of a book long enough, you might have figured that out already.”

      Anna’s cheeks had turned fire-engine red. She stood. “I think we’re done here.”

      Reading faces was another survival skill Hoyt had learned from dealing with his dad, so he knew there wasn’t much point in trying to smooth things over. But he was desperate, so he took a shot anyway, as she turned and headed for the door.

      “Anna, I’m sorry. Please wait.”

      For a second she hesitated, just long enough to get his hopes up. But then she squared her shoulders and went out the door.

      * * *

      Later, after putting Jess to bed, Hoyt sat on his back deck, listening to the chirring of the frogs down by the pond. He’d had more than his share of sleepless nights during the last few years, and he could tell he was gearing up for another one.

      After all his careful planning, he’d blown things with Anna because he hadn’t been able to keep a lid on his temper.

      Delaney hadn’t meant anything by that little jab. She’d just been cracking wise with him, the way they always did. It wasn’t her fault she’d hit him on a sore spot. He shouldn’t have overreacted.

      His restless mind dredged up an uncomfortable memory. One afternoon in the heat of a pickup basketball game, a classmate had elbowed him in the ribs. Nothing new about that, but this time the blow just happened to land right where his father had slammed him the night before, when Hoyt had wedged himself in front of his cowering mother. Agony had exploded, and without even thinking about it, Hoyt had rammed the backside of his forearm into the other player’s nose.

      It had been nothing but a reflex on Hoyt’s part, but the guy’s nose bled all over the gym floor just the same as if Hoyt had set out to break it.

      The incident had taught him a lesson. You couldn’t allow your pain to splash over onto other people. It wasn’t right.

      He should have let Anna’s little dig pass.

      His cell phone buzzed, vibrating itself across the wooden table beside his rocking chair. He snatched it up and read the name on the screen. Dr. Amanda Mills. It was the call he’d been waiting for.

      “Dr. Mills, thanks for getting back to me. I’m really sorry to bug you. I know you’re busy taking care of your mom. How’s she doing?”

      “The doctors are still running tests. We don’t know much yet, except that she’s had a massive stroke. And you can call me about Jess anytime, Hoyt. You know that.” He did. The gray-haired pediatric therapist had been an answer to prayer.

      He didn’t want to waste her time, so he jumped right to the purpose of his call. “Jess is still talking only to me.” He’d quizzed Bailey when she and Jess had returned from their pizza date, but no dice. According to Bailey, Jess had seemed content, and she’d eaten her weight in pizza, but she hadn’t said a word. “What do you think that means?”

      “Maybe nothing. Jess has always been on her own timetable. Most children with selective mutism start talking again in a matter of months, but Jess held out on us for years. This may run the same way. When she’s good and ready, she’ll talk to somebody else, and her social interactions will expand from there.”

      “Or?”

      Dr. Mills sighed. “Or only talking to you could be her new normal. That’s unlikely, but like I said, Jess is an unusual case.”

      Hoyt braced himself. “Any possibility she’ll go back to not talking at all?”

      “Hoyt—”

      “Bottom line, Doc.”

      Dr. Mills hesitated for a second, but she’d always been honest with him. “Yes. There’s always a possibility—a small possibility—of regression in cases like this.”

      “And if something happened that reminded her of how she felt back when her mom died, then that could up the chances of her going radio silent again? Couldn’t it?”

      Another heavy sigh. “Hoyt, I realize I’ve told you this before, but please try to hear me this time. Jess’s problems are not your fault.”

      Yeah, right. “I broke a promise to her, and she stopped talking.”

      “It was a promise you couldn’t possibly keep, involving a situation you couldn’t control. You’ve said yourself nobody knew how serious your wife’s illness was at first. Of course you promised Jess she’d get better. Any father would have promised a worried two-year-old the same thing. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

      Easier said than done. “Thanks, Dr. Mills. I appreciate your time.”

      “You’re always welcome. For now, just keep doing what you’ve been doing, and we’ll see what happens. I’m working Jess into my schedule the minute I get back home to Georgia. I’m confident we’ll see even more amazing progress by that point.”

      “Me, too.” Hoyt wasn’t blowing smoke. He was confident.

      He was going to do whatever it took to make sure Jess kept talking. First off, he needed to figure out how to get back on Anna’s good side because he needed her on Jess’s team. He’d probably better make a fresh pot of coffee and get started on that.

      After tonight, winning Anna over wasn’t going to be easy.