“You looked wary for a minute there.”
Tori gazed up at the vertical stone formation. “Just overwhelmed by old memories.”
“You sure that’s all?”
Her smile faded to a guilt-ridden grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I was highly tempted to head back to my grandparents’ house before anyone saw me.”
Tori’s sudden insecurity intrigued Steve. If she didn’t want to see everyone, why had she agreed to come? He wanted more than anything to believe her reason included him, but he wouldn’t take that for granted, either. “Before you change your mind, why not say hello?” Steve touched his hand to the small of her back, encouraging her to join the festivities.
CAROL STEWARD
wrote daily to a pen pal for ten years, yet writing as a career didn’t occur to her for another two decades. “My first key chain said ‘Bloom Where You’re Planted.’ I’ve tried to follow that advice ever since.”
Carol, her husband and their three children have planted their roots in Greeley. Together, their family enjoys sports, camping and discovering Colorado’s beauty. Carol has operated her own cake-decorating business and spent fifteen years providing full-time child care to more than one hundred children before moving on to the other end of the education field. She is now an admissions advisor at a state university.
As always, Carol loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her at P.O. Box 200269, Evans, CO80620. She would also love for you to visit her Web page at www.carolsteward.com.
Finding her Home
Carol Steward
MILLS & BOON
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The LORD said to me, “Do not say,
‘I am only a boy’ for you shall go to all
to whom I send you, and you shall speak
whatever I command you.”
—Jeremiah 1:7
Dedicated to all teachers and educators,
but mostly to my late grandmother, Mildred Call,
my sisters, Cindy and Cynde Bohannan,
my late brother-in-law, Dan Correll, and the
Steward family of educators, Mildred, Jack, Marty,
Dave, Doug, Karen, Charles and Deb Haverfield.
Thank you for your dedication!
Dear Reader,
This generation is supposed to learn more at a younger age, and with that comes the expectation that teachers and educators wear more hats than ever before. They’re often expected to fill the shoes of social worker, friend, advocate, mediator, parent liaison, police, counselor, coach and last, but most importantly, teacher. And when administrators move from the classroom into leadership, the expectations double.
Twenty-six years ago I married into a family of educators. I first met my future father-in-law as a student anxiously sitting in the junior high principal’s office. Throughout the years he grew to appreciate the many expectations of his job. Whether it was to discipline an ornery student, intervene with disagreements between student and teacher, or rush to the school in the middle of the night because fire alarms had gone off, the job never ends.
Now my husband is a principal, and the inspiration for Finding Her Home. I’m continually reminded God is present in all schools, with administrators, teachers, staff or students, giving His children courage and patience to face what each day brings. And with quiet faith can come countless opportunities to make an impact on those in need.
Please pray for all of our schools and our educators, that all will be willing to speak up when God commands.
I love to hear from my readers. Please feel free to contact me at P.O. Box 200269, Evans, CO 80620 or at [email protected]. Don’t forget to visit my Web site at www.carolsteward.com.
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter One
“It’s four-thirty in the morning. Who would be calling at this time of day?” Tori Sandoval picked up the phone, startled to hear her grandfather’s voice. “¿Abuelo? Calm down. What’s wrong?”
“Victoria, Abuela collapsed. The doctor at the clinic is having her flown to Pikes Peak Hospital. Can you meet her there?”
“Of course. What happened? How is she?” Tori choked back tears, allowing his announcement to sink in.
Tori heard Grandfather sob. “She fell…” he said, pausing to blow his nose. He rambled on, telling every detail. “I had to call the paramedics. I couldn’t do anything for her.”
“That’s their job. You shouldn’t be lifting her. Are you okay?”
“Fine. I’ll drive up after sunrise.”
Tori sat up in bed, the thought of her eighty-two-year-old grandfather making the 150-mile drive alone completed the wake-up process instantly. “No! I’ll come get you.”
“Abuela needs you. I’ll take it slow and do just fine. The nurse says my Maria will be in the hospital a while. You get to the hospital now, angel. Don’t worry about me.”
“¡Abuelo!”
Silence.
Thirty minutes later Tori Sandoval pressed the brakes of her four-wheel drive as she entered the already-busy hospital parking lot.
She parked the vehicle then punched in the number on her cell phone. “Sheriff Martinez, this is Victoria Sandoval….”
“Victoria, I’m sorry about your grandmother. I’m trying to find someone to bring Jose to Colorado Springs. He shouldn’t be driving in town, let alone on the highway.”
Relief washed over her. “Yes, I know. That’s