Jill
Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.
—2 Corinthians 5:17
To my beautiful mother.
Your support, encouragement and constant love have sustained me throughout my life.
Contents
Note to Readers
If the rancid coffee was an indication of the day ahead, perhaps Joy Kelliher should have stayed in bed. Settling into her favorite leather chair in the teachers’ lounge at Whispering Slopes K-12, she leaned toward the frosty window, pushing her thick brunette hair away from her face. She treasured the early morning hours before the school bustled with children. It was the second week in January, and the Virginia mountain community, nestled in the Shenandoah Valley, had yet to experience their first major snowfall of the season. Smiling, Joy eyed a white-tailed deer as it meandered across the playground, leaving its footprints in the dusting of snow that had fallen overnight. Spooked, it raced off into the forest that lined the school grounds. Fear. She knew it well.
A knock at the open door jarred the first-grade teacher before her mind spiraled down that dark road.
“Joy, I’d like to introduce you to your two new students.”
Mr. Jacobson stood in the doorway. A small, thick man with thinning gray hair, he’d taken over as principal after her father passed away when she was only two years old. With his retirement date nearing, her dream to work with and protect all of the children in the school, not just those in her classroom, could finally come true. She’d begun preparing for an interview the moment Mr. Jacobson had announced his retirement.
“This is Jordan and Tyler Capello,” he said, guiding two brown-haired, rosy-cheeked boys into the room.
Capello. No, it can’t be. Joy rubbed her eyes. The wood chair screeched as she pushed her slender frame from her seat. Was she seeing double?
The principal chuckled. “Yes, they’re twins. Identical. You’ll have your hands full.” He turned toward the door. “I believe you know their father.” He extended his right arm. “Nick, don’t be shy. Come on in, son.”
Heat prickled the back of her neck. She gripped the edge of the chair to steady herself. Nick Capello. This couldn’t be happening. Not after fourteen years of silence—of heartache.
Her heart pummeled against her rib cage as he slowly approached her—all six feet five inches of him. No longer the boy she remembered. With his Italian good looks, he’d grown into a strikingly handsome man who could still make her knees wobble like a newborn colt’s.
“Hello, Joy.” He reached for one of her hands, which she kept fisted at the sides of her thighs.
She swallowed once and then again before risking another glance in his direction. The lump lodged in her throat didn’t budge. “What...? Why...? What are you doing here?”
The once extended hand raked through his dark hair. His piercing blue eyes locked with hers. “This is my home. It’s always been. My boys are going to experience the joys of growing up in a small town, just like I did. I want that sense of community for them.”
His home? How could he call Whispering Slopes home? He and his family had moved in the dark of night, leaving a small town asking questions and her heart smashed in a million tiny pieces.
Her shoulders squared. “This isn’t your home.” Once it had been, but that was a lifetime ago.
One of the twins with a slightly larger frame stepped forward and flashed a smile that revealed two missing front teeth. “I’m Tyler, and this is my brother, Jordan. He might