An Abundance of Blessings

  Home to Heather Creek is a trademark of Guideposts.

  Copyright © 2008 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to the Rights & Permissions Department, Guideposts, 110 William Street, New York, NY 10038.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  Scripture quotations in this volume are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Guideposts.org

  (800) 932-2145

  Guideposts Books & Inspirational Media

  Cover by Lookout Design, Inc.

  Interior design by Cindy LaBreacht

  Typeset by Nancy Tardi

  Printed in the United States of America

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Beth Adams and Fiona Serpa for their guidance and humor in bringing this book to its present condition. Thanks also to all the Guideposts readers who give us authors a reason to tell a story. Blessings on you and your homes.

  —Carolyne Aarsen

  Home to Heather Creek

  Before the Dawn

  Sweet September

  Circle of Grace

  Homespun Harvest

  A Patchwork Christmas

  An Abundance of Blessings

  Every Sunrise

  The Promise of Spring

  April's Hope

  Seeds of Faith

  On the Right Path

  Sunflower Serenade

  Second Chances

  Prayers and Promises

  Giving Thanks

  Holiday Homecoming

  Family Matters

  All Things Hidden

  To Love and Cherish

  A Time to Grow

  Sentimental Journey

  Helping Hands

  Growing Pains

  In God's Hands

  Chapter One

  Storm’s blowing in,” Pete announced as the porch door slammed shut behind him. A swirl of chilled air moved past Charlotte’s legs, invading her warm home. She wrapped her worn sweater around herself as she walked to the porch entrance in time to see her son shake clumps of snow from his canvas coat onto the floor. Pete grinned at her, his red cheeks shining, his eyebrows and the hair sticking out of his hat crusted with white.

  “Where’s your father?” Charlotte shivered as Sam, her grandson, followed Pete into the porch.

  “C’mon, Toby,” Sam said, holding open the door just enough for the family’s dog to slip in. Sam shut the door on the icy gust of wind that shot into the house.

  Toby shook the snow off her brown fur, then trotted to the corner and lay down with a satisfied sigh.

  “Last I saw, Dad was headed out to check on the cows.” Pete hung his coat on the only empty hook in the porch, then turned to Sam as he wiped the melting snow off his face with a handkerchief. “Do you think I should have put up a guide rope for Grandpa? The snow is really blowing hard.”

  “What kind of rope?” Sam brushed the snow off his shoulders, frowning.

  “Like you read about in those old books? In heavy snowstorms like this people used to string up ropes between buildings so they wouldn’t lose their way.” Pete sniffed and shoved his handkerchief in his pocket.

  “Is the storm really that bad?” As Charlotte’s heart slipped into overdrive, she glanced from her son to her grandson. She remembered Bob’s father talking about Nebraskan winter storms that were so intense you could barely see a foot in front of you, let alone a building thirty feet away.

  “I just hope Dad can find his way back.” Pete laid his hand over his heart.

  His melodramatic gesture on top of the wink he sent Sam’s way clued Charlotte in.

  “I don’t find that humorous,” she said sternly as her son and grandson followed her into the kitchen. “There have been storms so bad on this farm we’ve had to do exactly that to keep people from getting disoriented and heading out into the field and getting lost.” She pulled open the oven door, releasing the scent of herbs and chicken.

  “That was before we had yard lights, Ma,” Pete said, running his hand through his dark brown hair, pushing it up in damp spikes. “Can I have supper with you guys? I have to head into town pretty quick and don’t have time to cook.”

  “Big date with your honey Dana, Uncle Pete?” Emily asked, an arch tone in her voice as she set out the plates on the kitchen table.

  Pete twisted the tap on, spraying water as he washed his hands. “Nope. Dana’s got … other things to do. Tonight Brad and I are watching the game in town. Then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

  “Not staying out late again, Pete?” Charlotte tried hard to keep the mother tone out of her voice, but it crept in on its own.

  Pete ignored her as he shook the water off his hands, then wiped them on the towel hanging from the stove, a frown carving a deep crease in his forehead.

  This time Charlotte kept her comments to herself. Somehow Emily’s mention of Dana had shifted Pete’s mood.

  “Smells good in here, Grandma,” Sam said, washing up as well. He thoughtfully wiped away the water drops his uncle had sprayed on the counter.

  “I’m trying a new recipe.”

  “Is that the one I pulled from a magazine?” Emily asked, getting out an extra place setting for her uncle and a stack of paper napkins.

  “It is, but I added chicken to it.”

  “Grandma, the point was that it was vegetarian.” Emily pulled a face, which Charlotte chose to ignore. Despite the fact that Charlotte regularly cooked meat, Emily still campaigned for meatless meals.

  “In wintertime, when men come in cold and hungry from working outside, meat is important,” Charlotte said.

  “This isn’t San Diego, you know,” Pete put in, “where you can get away with tofu and kelp and whatever it is people in California like eating.”

  “You don’t have to be Sherlock to figure out that we’re not in San Diego, Uncle Pete.” A complaining tone slipped into Sam’s voice. “Last month was cold enough to make me wish we could sell the farm and move back home to San Diego again.”

  Charlotte tried to ignore the note of regret in her grandson’s voice. Moving from California, where they had grown up with their mother, to a farm in Nebraska to live with their grandparents had been tough on her grandchildren. But the tragic death of Denise, the children’s mother and Bob and Charlotte’s daughter, had forced the situation.

  “This is your first winter here,” Pete said. “You’ll get used to it. December was just a taste of what January and February bring.” Pete sounded almost gleeful.

  “Which makes me feel like gagging.” Sam clutched his stomach, as if he were ill. “I’ll never get used to this cold weather.”

  As he spoke a gust of wind shook the windows and battered the house, sending needles of snow ticking against the glass as if demanding entrance. Then the porch door slammed again and Charlotte relaxed. Bob was in from doing chores. Husband, son, and grandchildren were all accounted for, all safe and secure inside the house while the winter storm raged outside. All except one.

  “Where’s your little brother?” Charlotte asked Emily as she slipped on her oven mitts and pulled the casserole dish out of the oven.

  “I think Christopher’s up in the attic,” Emily said.

  “Emily, what did you do with these?” Sam pulled his chair back from the table as he flicked his finger at the folded napkin decorating his plate.

  “I saw it in a magazine.” Emily gave the next napk
in another fold and set it on the plate in front of her.

  “You aren’t Martha Stewart, sister.”

  “You can say that again,” Pete put in. “I don’t think Martha Stewart’s blue jeans look like they’ve been sprayed on.” Pete dropped into a chair at the table, his teasing note showing Charlotte that the old Pete was back, at least for now.

  “They’re called skinny jeans,” Emily protested, setting a folded napkin in front of him. “And they aren’t that tight.”

  “You put a quarter in your pocket, I could tell you what year it is, missy.” Pete dismantled Emily’s creation as he spoke.

  Emily struck a fencing pose. “My name is Emily Slater. You wrecked my napkin. Prepare to die.”

  “Sam, can you get your brother from the attic?” Charlotte said, hoping to put a halt to Pete and Emily’s antics before they started endlessly quoting lines from movies at each other.

  Sam tilted his chair back and yelled, “Chris!”

  “That I could have done myself,” Charlotte said.

  Sam sighed, pushed himself away from the table and ambled up the stairs.

  “Pete, which bales did you use to bed the cows?” Bob asked as he washed up.

  “The ones along the fence line.”

  “Will we have enough to hold us for the next two weeks? I figured we should have hauled more when we had the chance.”

  “Depends on how much snow this storm dumps on us.” Pete handed the napkin back to Emily, who heaved a theatrical sigh but refolded it into the shape of a swan. “Missy, you got too much time on your hands.”

  “Might have more if this storm doesn’t let up,” Bob said, setting himself at the table. “I heard that the road south of Bedford is snowed in.”

  Sam came downstairs and rolled his eyes as he dropped into his chair. “You will not believe what Christopher found in that box of clothes.”

  As if on cue Christopher entered the kitchen, grinning. “Look what I found,” he said, smoothing his hands over a bright neon pink and green shirt. “It’s cool.”

  “It looks like a nuclear experiment gone wrong,” Sam said.

  “It looks like something I wore to school.” Pete shook his head in disbelief. “And promised I would never wear again.”

  “I think I sewed a shirt like that for you,” Charlotte said as she pulled her chair back from the table. “You liked it at the time.”

  “And thankfully that time came and went. The eighties should be erased from history forever.” Pete shook his head.

  “I saw some of your old pictures,” Emily put in. “You even had a mullet.”

  “Erasing,” Pete said, moving his hand back and forth in front of his face.

  Charlotte resisted the urge to put in one more dig about Pete’s teenage clothing choices as she glanced across the table at Bob, who was grinning at the conversation as well.

  “Supper’s ready. We should pray,” Charlotte said.

  Bob winked at Charlotte, then bowed his head. “We thank Thee, Lord, for this food You’ve set before us. For homes and family and the community we’re a part of. We thank Thee for each other and may we love each other as You love us.”

  And give us wisdom as we raise our grandchildren, Charlotte added silently. Ever since Sam, Emily, and Christopher had come to the farm, it seemed each week and month brought new challenges for Bob and her to deal with. And new prayer requests for her to send up.

  “So why are you headed out with Brad tonight, Uncle Pete?” Sam asked, reaching for a freshly baked bun. “I thought you were going out with Dana.”

  “Covered that topic already,” Pete grumbled.

  “No, we didn’t.” Emily held her plate out to Charlotte. “I asked if you had a big date with Dana, and you got all grumpy.”

  “We’re not talking about Dana.” Pete broke his bun open as he hunched over his plate.

  “Why not?” Sam asked with the persistence of a teenager to whom any weakness was something to be exploited, not treated with consideration.

  Pete glowered at Sam, then looked back at his plate. “I’m going out with Brad. That’s it.”

  “You’d sooner go out with him than Dana?”

  Pete ignored his nephew, staring at his plate.

  Sam looked thoughtful as he buttered his bun. “Of course, I could ask Miss Simons myself when I see her in English class tomorrow. Benefit of having my uncle’s girlfriend as my English teacher.”

  “Don’t even think about it, wise guy.” Pete pointed his knife at Sam. “What happened with me and Dana is none of your business.”

  Charlotte’s heart sank at the anger in her son’s voice. When Pete started seeing Dana, she had been so hopeful. Dana was a sweet, kind person, and Charlotte had thought she was perfect for her son.

  She might be the settling influence Charlotte had always prayed would come into Pete’s life. It seemed, for the past few months, that the relationship had been slowly progressing.

  “Did you have a fight?” Emily persisted.

  Charlotte was about to warn her to leave things be. She could see that Pete was growing more agitated. But before Charlotte could say anything, Pete shoved his chair away from the table.

  “Got to get going. I’m late.”

  “But you barely ate.”

  “Not hungry.”

  Pete didn’t even look back as he strode out of the kitchen to the porch. The only sound in the stunned silence he left in his wake was the slamming of the door as he left the house.

  “He better not have broken up with Miss Simons,” Sam grumbled. “I’ve got a big English test coming up and I don’t need her ticked off at him.”

  “I doubt she’d be that ticked off at him,” Emily assured her brother.

  But Sam didn’t look too confident.

  “Hey, Chris, where did you get that shirt?” Emily asked, turning her attention to her younger brother.

  Christopher shook his head. “There’s some boxes of clothes in the attic,” he said, sounding hopeful. “I can show you if you want. I found some books too.”

  “I’ll check it out after I’m done with my homework,” Emily said, separating her meat from the noodles in the casserole with the precision of a brain surgeon. “I might find something in there that I could wear, seeing as how there isn’t a decent place in town to buy clothes.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bob put in, rejoining the conversation. “The Hitching Post sells all kinds of clothes.”

  “If you’re looking for coveralls and plaid shirts, you betcha. And Brenda’s Boutique isn’t cool either,” Emily said, turning up her nose at her grandfather’s fashion advice. “The kind of clothes I want you can’t find in boring Bedford.”

  “Bedford may not be as exciting as San Diego, but it certainly isn’t boring,” Charlotte gently reprimanded her granddaughter.

  Emily shrugged, and before Charlotte could follow through on that, the telephone rang. Emily and Sam leaped to their feet and raced to answer the phone, netting a frown from Bob.

  “Do they always think the phone is for them?” he asked, sounding puzzled.

  “They live in hope,” Charlotte said, glancing over her shoulder as Emily returned, her hand on her chest as if relieved she hadn’t won that particular phone draw.

  Sam followed close on her heels, handing Charlotte the telephone. “It’s Anna.” The way he wrinkled his nose was an eloquent statement on his feelings about Charlotte and Bob’s daughter-in-law.

  “What does Anna want this time?” Emily whispered across the table to her brother.

  Charlotte shot Emily a warning glance as she took the phone.

  “Hello, Anna, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Mother,” Anna said. “I’m so sorry to disturb your dinner, but I have a very, very large favor to ask.”

  “I’m sure I can help you out,” Charlotte said, wondering what this favor would be. Anna seldom asked Charlotte to do anything for her.

  “Bill has to make a business trip to Florida and I d
ecided to go along. Florida sounds divine this time of the year. My problem is my mother is unable to care for the girls. I know your house is full, but I desperately need someone to watch the girls and I hoped I could have them stay with you … I know you have another guest bedroom upstairs so the girls could stay there.”

  “Of course they can.”

  “Unfortunately this will mean that Madison will miss a week of school, and Jennifer a week of preschool, but I’m getting the teachers to make up a lesson plan for what Madison will be missing. I mean, it’s got to help that Bill is the mayor of the town, right?”

  “I’m sure that can work in your favor,” Charlotte agreed, stifling a smile. Charlotte was proud of her son and what he had accomplished in River Bend, but she never managed to work Bill’s position into as many conversations as her daughter-in-law did.

  “We’ll be leaving on Saturday morning.”

  “Next week.”

  “No. Day after tomorrow. We’ll be returning a week from Sunday evening and will pick the girls up then. I know this is sudden, but Bill and I could really use the time away.” Anna chatted on about the upcoming trip while Charlotte made the correct noises, hoping Anna would finish before her supper got cold.

  “So can I bring the kids on Friday evening? Before supper?”

  “Friday evening is fine with me, Anna,” Charlotte said. She wasn’t sure Bob and her grandchildren would feel the same.

  She said good-bye, disconnected the call, and walked back to the table to be greeted by three questioning faces. Bob was focused on his meal, and Charlotte wondered if he had even noticed her absence.

  “Anna’s coming tomorrow?” Sam asked.

  “Aunty Anna is bringing Madison and Jennifer. They’re staying for a week while Anna joins Bill on a business trip.” Charlotte laid a gentle emphasis on Aunty, just to remind the children to show some respect.

  “A whole week?” Emily wailed. “How am I supposed to avoid those girls that long?”

  “You don’t need to avoid them,” Charlotte said.

  “I bet Anna doesn’t want me within ten feet of her precious jewels.” Emily shook her head as she rearranged the meat on her plate.

  “Can’t blame her,” Sam said, a teasing tone entering his voice. “The last time you took care of Madison, Anna’s precious jewel almost broke her precious arm.”