succession.
Her sisterâs laughter warmed her through, andWestinâs squeal of happiness as he kicked another goal uplifted her even more. The crowd cheered, and Amy soaked it up.
This was why she was so grateful every day. She had the warm Montana sun on her face and the loving acceptance of her family and friends surrounding her. Not to mention her little boy grinning from ear to ear as he ran a victory lap, forgetting to go back to the game, which went on without him.
âOh, Iâve got that recorded.â Cousin Kendra came over with her handheld DVD video recorder. âIâll make a copy for you. Heâs too cute.â
A shadow moved at the corner of Amyâs eye, drawing her attention to the far edge of the school yard, beyond the tall chain-link fencing to the road out of town.
She recognized the man inside the blue pickup, which was creeping along in obedience to the school zone speed limit. She was surprised heâd stayed in town this long. The loner didnât look right or left, just kept a slow steady speed down the tree-lined lane and kept on going until he was out of sight.
His sadness clung to her as if it had somehow seeped through her skin and settled in her bones. She decided Jodi, the morning-shift waitress, was right. He was the saddest man sheâd ever seen. It made it hard to stay angry with him, because he was alone.
And she was not.
The crowd around her came to life, yelling thistime for little Allie, who kicked and missed a perfect goal shot. Westin came running to fend off a little boy in a blue uniform, giving her the chance to try again. Everyone leapt out of the chairs and onto their feet, shouting encouragement.
Amy was on her feet cheering, too, as the goal was made, but she couldnât see for the tears in her eyes. Tears that hurt as they fell, not from pain but from gratitude. She never questioned that God was good, look how gracious He had been to her when she had made so many mistakes.
And the lonerâ¦
Please watch over him, Father, she prayed, because she knew how bitter loneliness could make someone. And how bleak hopelessness could be.
Â
Heath shifted into fourth gear as the town fell behind him and he accelerated on the two-lane country road. The look on Amyâs face had stayed with him the entire time heâd been at the sheriffâs office. Even when he and the deputy found out theyâd served in the first Desert Storm within twenty miles of one another, she had been in the back of his thoughts, and that was saying something.
He couldnât get rid of the dark trembling feeling in his gut, that bad feeling he got whenever he did something he regretted. And what heâd said to the blond-haired woman whoâd been decent enough to return his hat, who was simply a nice personâ
He couldnât get past it. Heâd been mean to her when sheâd done nothing to deserve it.
It wasnât like him to behave like that. He never should have acted that way. Heâd just beenâ¦wrong. Sure, there were a dozen excuses as to why heâd done it, but really, he didnât want to get close to a woman again. In any way, shape or form. There were plenty of reasons, but what did it matter, in the end? Excuses didnât erase the way heâd intentionally pushed her away.
âSome of the nicest people youâll ever meet, the McKaslins,â the deputy had told him after heâd filled out a report on last nightâs troublemakers. âWhen I first came to town to interview for this job, Iâd stopped afterward for a bite to eat at the diner. It was after the lunch rush, and Amy was alone in the place.â
âIs it her restaurant?â
âThe familyâs. Those women work hard, I tell you, and they make some of the best meals around. Anyway, after Amy grilled up my burger and gave me a whole batch of fries, she whipped up the best shake Iâve had anywhere.â
When Frank had
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