“I want us to be a family,” Gabe said.
“Why?” Blair pressed him for an answer, knowing he wouldn’t have one. Gabriel Sloan had never wanted any encumbrances in his solitary life. Things couldn’t have changed that much.
“Because he’s my son, and I owe it to him,” he exploded. “And because you’re his mother and I owe you, too. I should never have…”
So he felt guilty for that one night of indiscretion? Blair smiled bitterly. Well, it was as good a reason as any to suggest marriage, she supposed. It just wasn’t her reason, not the one she’d dreamed of, anyway.
He might be willing to marry her, but in the end she would turn him down cold. Daniel was her son, and she intended him to feel the love in his life. Gabe didn’t believe in love.
And Blair couldn’t settle for anything else.
LOIS RICHER
lives in a small Canadian prairie town with her husband, who, she says, is a “wanna-be farmer.” She began writing in self-defense, as a way to escape. She says, “Come spring, tomato plants take over my flower beds, no matter how many I ‘accidentally’ pull up or ‘prune.’ By summer I’m fielding phone calls from neighbors who don’t need tomatoes this fall. Come September, no one visits us, and anyone who gallantly offers to take a box invariably ends up with six. I have more recipes with tomatoes than with chocolate. Thank goodness for writing! Imaginary people with imaginary gardens are much easier to deal with!”
Lois is pleased to present this latest book in her new series IF WISHES WERE WEDDINGS for the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line. Please feel free to contact Lois at: Box 639, Nipawin, Saskatchewan, S0E 1E0, Canada.
His Answered Prayer
Lois Richer
This is my commandment, that you love one
another, as I have loved you.
—John 15:12
This book is for kids everywhere, big or little,
who hurt because Mommy or Daddy isn’t there. Your Father above is waiting with open arms.
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
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Daniel.”
“Where is my daddy?”
“Uh…”
“I’m gonna pray really hard, so God will send me a daddy.”
Blair Delaney sighed, her son’s earnest question from last night still ringing in her ears. Daniel hadn’t waited for the answer she didn’t have—or at least, one he’d understand—but had bluntly petitioned heaven with his heartfelt demand.
She shoved her hair behind her ear and deliberately pushed the problem of Daniel’s absent father out of her mind. It was procrastination of the worst sort, but she couldn’t deal with it now. She had to focus on the tasks at hand. Her family depended on her. They needed her to be strong, to keep things on track, to take care of them.
She picked up the shortwave radio and pressed the button.
“I’m heading for the hives in the west field, Mac. If I’m lucky and things are as good as they seem out here, I won’t have to feed the bees sugar for much longer now.”
“That’s good, Busy Bee.”
The old nickname drew a grin. Trust Grandpa to put a smile into her day. She wasn’t going to let him down. Somehow she’d manage Daniel and all the other little problems that kept creeping up, demanding her attention.
“It’ll be nice for you to stop making these runs every day.” Mac’s voice came strong and clear, proof positive that he was once more feeling up to snuff.
Blair let out a breath of relief. That lingering winter cold that had rattled around in his chest since December scared her. Maybe it was finally gone. Blair heard him ask how long she’d be.
“The thing is, I’m not sure, Grandpa. Daniel will be at kindergarten till three. I should be back long before the bus gets there. Can you check on Aunt Willie for me, make sure she takes her medication on time?”
Mac’s ready answer sent a shaft of pleasure straight to her heart. Sometimes it was nice to be needed, to do things that really mattered to the ones you loved.
Blair snapped the radio into its holder seconds before she had to grab the wheel and force it right on the rutted, muddy road. Spring in the valley made it tough to negotiate the unpaved foothill roads that bordered Colorado’s famous Rocky Mountains. But when the valley sprouted this bright vibrant wash of color, she couldn’t wish herself anyplace else. This was home.
Ten minutes later Blair surveyed the first blush of green that tipped the branches surrounding her field. Below her feet, tiny plants forced their way through the soil and stretched to meet the sun. It was fresh, it was good. It was hers.
Or it would be one day.
Blair strode across the meadow where she’d set out her beehives, the same meadow she’d worked so hard to make a profit on. As she walked, her mind focused on Daniel’s upcoming field trip. The class kitty was still short of the requisite funds. His teacher needed her to organize one more fund-raiser before the end of May. Blair would have to come up with a plan. Just another little job to see to.
The hives seemed in good repair, once she removed the outer insulating wraps. A quick check inside proved the durability of this particular strain of bees, and she pushed away any lingering doubts she’d had about spending so much on them.
“With any luck at all, this will be a banner year for Mind Your Own Beeswax.” The words brought a satisfied smile to her lips.
The company had been her idea over six years ago, just after her life had fallen apart. She’d run home to Grandpa Mac and his sister Wilhelmina. Even though they were barely scraping by on the tumbledown ranch they’d chosen for retirement, they welcomed her, and Daniel when he’d arrived, with open arms. They needed her, and Blair had willingly pitched in. Her fledgling honey and beeswax candle business really took off after Daniel’s birth and now consumed most of Blair’s time.
With a practiced eye she studied the field. The Merrihews always planted early. That was one of the reasons she chose to rent to them. That and the fact that their clover crops provided exactly the environment her bees needed.
Blair mentally calculated how much her earnings and Mac’s pension brought in and then subtracted the costs of Willie’s special expenses and the costs involved in helping their friend Albert Hunter. He had a predilection for inventions that never quite took off.
“It’s going to be a stretch,” she muttered, unwilling to even consider