His Two Little Blessings

Can he find love again—with two adorable helpers?

A Liberty Creek romance

When the school board threatens to cut her art program, Emma Calhoun plans to fight for the job she loves. And with her student’s father, banker Rick Marshall, on board to help, she might just succeed. But even as the handsome widower and his sweet little girls burrow their way into her heart, will he allow himself to love once more?

MIA ROSS loves great stories. She enjoys reading about fascinating people, long-ago times and exotic places. But only for a little while, because her reality is pretty sweet. Married to her college sweetheart, she’s the proud mom of two amazing kids, whose schedules keep her hopping. Busy as she is, she can’t imagine trading her life for anyone else’s—and she has a pretty good imagination. You can visit her online at miaross.com.

Also By Mia Ross

Liberty Creek

Mending the Widow’s Heart

The Bachelor’s Baby

His Two Little Blessings

Oaks Crossing

Her Small-Town Cowboy

Rescued by the Farmer

Hometown Holiday Reunion

Falling for the Single Mom

Barrett’s Mill

Blue Ridge Reunion

Sugar Plum Season

Finding His Way Home

Loving the Country Boy

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

His Two Little Blessings

Mia Ross

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08437-6

HIS TWO LITTLE BLESSINGS

© 2018 Andrea Chermak

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

“I’d hate to be a third wheel.”

“Technically, you’d be the fourth wheel,” Rick corrected Emma, adding a mischievous grin. “And if you want to come, we’d love to have you. The girls, I mean,” he amended quickly.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you honestly that clueless, or are you just messing with me?”

He laughed out loud. “Okay, you got me. It’s nice to have another grown-up to talk to, and you’re great company.”

“Really? But I’m so quiet.”

“And funny and sweet. I have to say, I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Emma. You’re one of a kind.”

“Does that work on the other women you’ve known?”

Suddenly, the humor left his expression. “Only one.”

“Sarah?” When he nodded, she steadied her voice. “I’m honored. May I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to think of her and smile?”

He took a moment to consider that and nodded. “Someday. People tell me the pain eases, but I didn’t believe that. Until recently, anyway.”

Dear Reader,

This is the final Liberty Creek book, and I couldn’t think of a better way to end the Calhoun family’s heartwarming story.

When Emma Calhoun appeared in the first book of the series, I liked her right away. Her quiet strength and resilience in the face of such a serious illness amazed everyone around her, and her unwavering faith was truly inspiring. Being creative and playful in a situation like hers isn’t easy, but those traits made her a great teacher and just the kind of person Rick needed in his life. For him—as for so many—regaining his emotional balance after the tragic loss of his wife felt almost impossible. Emma and his sweet, funny daughters showed him the way, and fortunately he was open-minded enough to follow them.

Maintaining a positive attitude during tough times in our lives can help us to accept what’s happened in the past and move ahead. While today might look bleak, tomorrow things will be better. No matter how slowly we seem to be going, moving forward is the important thing, because going backward simply isn’t an option. While I didn’t intend for this concept to be the theme of this series, it definitely became the unifying aspect of all three stories.

Our history makes us who we are, and the future is something for us to reach toward. The present is where we make our true impact, as we go through each day doing the best we can with the circumstances we find ourselves in. Liberty Creek—and the people who live there—embody this idea perfectly. I hope you’ve enjoyed this charming place, with its frozen-in-time appearance and its warm, friendly people. I know I did.

If you’d like to stop in and see what I’ve been up to, you’ll find me online at www.miaross.com, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads. While you’re there, send me a message in your favorite format. I’d love to hear from you!

Mia Ross

For with God nothing shall be impossible.

—Luke 1:37

This one’s for you, Dad.

I miss you every day.

Acknowledgments

To Melissa Endlich and the dedicated staff at Love Inspired. These very talented folks help me make my books everything they can be.

More thanks to the gang at Seekerville (www.seekerville.blogspot.com), a great place to hang out with readers—and writers.

I’ve been blessed with a wonderful network of supportive, encouraging family and friends. You inspire me every day!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“Miss Calhoun! Miss Calhoun!”

At the sound of a child’s voice calling out her name, Emma looked into the crowd milling around the annual Liberty Creek Arts and Crafts Show. It was a gorgeous New Hampshire day in early May, and there were dozens of kids in the tree-shaded square who might have shouted to her. Being the elementary school’s only art teacher, she knew most of the young ones in town, so it could have been any one of them.

Then she caught sight of a little girl running toward her stand near the white gazebo, hand waving enthusiastically in the air, a riot of blond curls bouncing behind her. When she stopped in front of Emma’s jewelry stand, her cheeks were pink from the exercise, her china-blue eyes shining in excitement as she exhaled a breathless “Hello.”

“Hello to you, too, Caitlin,” Emma replied, stepping out to give the bright kindergartener a hug. “I’m so glad you found me.”

“There’s a lot of people here,” she agreed, glancing around before looking back at Emma. “But my daddy’s tall, so he saw you from way over there.”

She pointed to the edge of the park, and Emma followed the motion to see Rick Marshall, the bank’s new assistant manager, moving toward them, carrying a smaller version of Caitlin in his arms. They’d met a few times at school functions, but she’d never spent more than a few minutes chatting with him. Wearing khaki shorts and a dark blue polo shirt, he had the look of someone who spent his days in suits and ties and was happy to be dressed down for the weekend.

The sun picked up some highlights in his brown hair, not to mention the color of his eyes that echoed his daughters’. His wife was a very fortunate woman, Emma mused as he joined them. “Good afternoon, Mr. Marshall. How are you today?”

“Just fine,” he replied with an easy smile. “And I know I’ve told you at least twice to call me Rick.”

Emma made it a policy to address her students’ parents—especially the good-looking fathers—in a formal way that couldn’t possibly be misinterpreted as flirting. Being twenty-six and single was hard enough without creating the kind of wrong impression that could earn her a reprimand from the district superintendent or a complaint from a jealous wife.

So she ignored the chiding and focused on the adorable cherub he held. “You must be Aubrey. Caitlin has told me a lot about you during art class, but it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

The child gave her a bashful half smile before burying her head in her father’s chest.

“She’s a little shy,” Caitlin explained, patting her sister’s back in a comforting way that said she did it often. “Being four is scary.”

“It certainly is,” Emma confirmed, directing her comments to the older girl to avoid frightening the younger one. “Even grown-ups get scared about new things sometimes. That’s why it’s good to have a family watching out for you.”

They chatted about school and the new friends Caitlin had made since starting there during the winter term. After a couple of minutes Aubrey swiveled her face toward the conversation, clearly interested in what they were saying. Emma was careful not to look directly at the reserved child, but from Rick’s pleased expression, she guessed that Aubrey was slowly warming up to her. Being on the timid side herself, Emma hated it when people tried to force her to participate in a discussion when she wasn’t ready. She could definitely relate to Aubrey’s cautious approach to the world around her.

“So,” Rick said when their small talk died down, “when I stopped by Liberty Creek Forge to pick up my new garden gate the other day, your brother Brian was telling me that you make jewelry and you’d be selling some of it here today. Do you mind if we take a look?”

“Not a bit,” she replied, stepping back to give them a clear path to her booth. “Also, I keep forgetting to thank you for helping Brian out with the financing for his business. He never would’ve gotten started if you hadn’t stepped in to smooth things over for him with the loan committee.”

“Everyone deserves a chance to succeed,” Rick said, shifting Aubrey to his other side so she could look down at the array of necklaces that Caitlin was admiring. “Brian’s a good guy, and Lindsay’s an expert at keeping her husband and the business on track, so I felt they were a good risk. From what I see here, there’s quite a bit of artistic talent in the Calhoun family.”

It was flattering to hear that, but Emma felt her cheeks heating with embarrassment. She’d never been comfortable being complimented for something that she considered to be a gift from God, a talent meant to be shared with others who could appreciate it. Strangers often mistook her reticence for standoffishness, so she forced herself to smile up at the tall banker. “That’s nice of you to say. Thank you.”

“Just stating a fact, but you’re welcome. We’re looking for a Mother’s Day gift for my mom. What do you think she’d like, girls?”

The two of them debated over several items before finally settling on a pretty beaded bracelet with a silver oval that read “Grandma.” While Emma boxed and wrapped it for them, she asked, “Do you see anything your mommy might like?”

In a heartbeat, the three Marshalls fell silent. Rick’s jaw tightened in obvious distress, and he pulled Aubrey a bit closer, resting a hand on Caitlin’s shoulder in a protective gesture that told Emma she’d inadvertently stumbled onto very sensitive ground. Feeling awful, she wished there was a way to un-ask her question.

Lifting large, sad eyes to hers, in a voice barely above a whisper, Caitlin said, “Mommy’s in heaven.”

Unbidden, Emma’s gaze fell on Rick’s left hand, which still bore a gold wedding band. With great determination, she raised her eyes to meet his and frowned. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“We try to keep it to ourselves, for the girls’ sake,” he explained tersely. “Fewer questions to answer that way.”

Nodding, she tried desperately to come up with something else to say. Nothing comforting came to mind, so she simply said, “I understand.”

“Thank you.”

The casual ease that he’d displayed earlier had vanished, and in its place stood a man who was clearly still grieving, even while he raised his two beautiful daughters. Emma’s family was as close-knit as they came, and she couldn’t imagine how her life would be without her own mother. When trouble had come to her two years ago, the first person she’d confided in was Mom. They’d had a good cry, then got to work figuring out how to handle her sobering diagnosis.

Leukemia, the doctor had somberly informed her. Stage three.

Her family’s unwavering support, and a lot of prayer, had gotten Emma through the worst time of her life. The tests and seemingly endless rounds of chemo had gone on for months, and there had been times when she honestly thought she couldn’t possibly endure any more. She’d pushed away the despair, armed with a collection of cute hats and handmade jewelry that had spawned a new hobby that helped to keep her sane throughout her treatment.

In the end, she’d gotten through it using equal measures of grit and faith. Now, hopefully, she was on the other side of it and moving forward. The date of her follow-up test was circled on her calendar in bright pink. It was a cheerful, upbeat color, and she hoped her results would warrant it.

An optimist by nature, she’d learned the hard way that a positive attitude wasn’t always enough to make things work out in her favor. And while she recognized that it was important to be prepared for the worst, she didn’t know what that might be.

She’d never summoned the courage to ask.

* * *

Rick had no clue what to say next.

To cover his sudden silence, he set Aubrey down in the lush spring grass and pulled out his wallet. To Caitlin, he said, “Why don’t you two go across the aisle to Mrs. Calhoun’s stand and get us all some cookies and lemonade?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Caitlin agreed, nodding as if she understood that the conversation he was about to have wasn’t one for young ears. Taking Aubrey’s hand, she smiled and gave a light tug. “Come on. Let’s go get a snack.”

When he was satisfied that the girls were out of earshot, he squared his shoulders and faced the art teacher, who’d so innocently punched him in the gut. Her vivid blue eyes were filled with sympathy, made even more intense by the sunlight streaming down through the branches overhead. Her honey-brown hair shifted in the warm breeze, and she toyed with a short piece in a gesture that made it clear she was as uncomfortable as he was.

“About the ring...” The opening sounded awkward, and he felt more like a teenager approaching his crush to ask for a date than a twenty-eight-year-old man about to impose some logic on what must seem odd.

“There’s no need to explain yourself to me, Mr. Marshall,” she assured him in a formal tone very unlike the one she’d been using with him up until now. “What you wear or don’t wear is your own business. I’m just sorry that I misunderstood your situation. Being a single father is hard enough, but your circumstances are heartbreaking. I feel awful for upsetting you and the girls this way.”

Amazing, he thought with true admiration. Any other woman would have been curious about why he still wore his wedding ring when he was no longer married. Enough had done it recently that he’d come to expect the question. Despite the strain he was feeling, Emma’s respect for his wishes brushed some of his discomfort away.

“Sarah and I got married right after we finished college and had Caitlin a year later,” he explained quietly, hoping to avoid sharing his painful personal history with the people browsing at the next table. “When Aubrey was born four years ago, Sarah didn’t bounce back the way she did after Caitlin. For a few months she chalked the fatigue up to being a full-time mother of two.”

He heard the catch in his voice and paused to steady it. To his surprise, Emma laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “You don’t need to keep going if you’d rather not. I can fill in the blanks on my own.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “When Caitlin first started at school, my hair was still coming back in and I wore a lot of hats. She mentioned that her mother had done the same thing, so I assumed she’d been through something similar. I just didn’t realize that she passed away, and I’m truly sorry for all you and the girls have lost. They’re both wonderful, and Sarah must have been a remarkable woman to give them so much before she died.”

“She was,” he confirmed, relieved to feel his emotional balance returning. Emma’s soft voice, coupled with the compassionate words that she’d offered to him, eased the tension he’d been fighting, and he dredged up a smile for the kind woman. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course.”

The girls returned with their snack—most of it, anyway—and Rick turned his attention to a less morbid topic. “I’m seeing partial cookies and half-filled cups. Did you run into the Cookie Monster between here and there?”

“No, Daddy,” Aubrey replied, laughing at his reference to one of her favorite characters. “We were hungry.”

“But we saved one for you,” Caitlin added, pulling it from the pocket of her sundress to hand it to him. And then, reaching back in, she pulled another to offer her teacher. “And this is for you. Your grandma said it’s your favorite.”

“It’s a raccoon,” Aubrey chirped helpfully.

“Macaroon,” Rick corrected her with a chuckle. “And it looks delicious. Did you thank Mrs. Calhoun when you paid her?”

Caitlin’s eyes widened guiltily, and she took the money he’d given her from her other pocket. Giving it back to him, she confessed, “We were talking about what I’m doing at school, and I forgot. I’ll go back and give it to her.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma told her with a laugh. “Gran doesn’t charge anyone under the age of ten, even at the bakery. She loves kids, and she likes nothing better than spoiling them. My brothers and I are living proof of that.”

“How many brothers do you have?” Aubrey asked, apparently over her initial shyness.

Hunkering down to her level, Emma said, “I have two, Sam and Brian, both older than me. Sometimes being the youngest is fun, and sometimes they bug me.”

The childish phrasing puzzled Rick for a moment, until he saw his younger daughter nod in agreement. “Me, too.”

“I don’t bug you,” Caitlin corrected her with a frown.

“Yes, you do, but it’s okay. I still love you.”

“Aww...” The older girl beamed at her little shadow and pulled her close for a sideways hug. “That’s so sweet. I love you, too, Froggy.”

Rick laughed out loud, and Emma looked up at him. “Froggy?”

“When we were waiting for Aubrey to join us, we let Caitlin name the baby. There was a character in a kids’ movie at the time named Froggy, and she picked that. We thought it was cute, so we went along. After that, it became one of our inside family jokes.”

“I’m very familiar with those,” Emma commented, smiling as she stood.

“I’ve met your brothers, so I don’t doubt that for a second.”

While they finished off their snack, they chatted lightly about the weather and the upcoming spring concert and art show to be held at the school. While his daughters occupied themselves by rearranging Emma’s dwindling stock by color, Rick noticed a stack of flyers sitting on her table. Recognizing her sister-in-law Lindsay’s handiwork on the promotional material, he picked one up to see what it was about.

One-of-a-kind jewelry designed and handmade by Emma Calhoun. All proceeds to benefit the Liberty Creek After School Arts Program.

Amazed that she was giving up an entire Saturday and not keeping any of the money she made, he turned the sheet toward her. “I didn’t realize you were doing this for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” she corrected him sweetly. “For a bunch of awesome kids who enjoy art as much as I do.”

“Is the program really in danger of being cut?”

“Always. It’s open to students of every age, and they bus kids who want to participate down from the middle and high schools. It’s a great alternative to them going home to an empty house, but every year the school budget gets tighter, and there’s only so much money to go around. Last year we barely squeaked by.”

“How many students use it?”

“That’s not the point,” she reminded him curtly, a flash of temper pinking her cheeks. “Children deserve to have a creative outlet, and some of the older ones need a place to hang out after school. This program does both.”

The scolding was delivered in the same soft voice she’d used before, but it seethed with a frustration that told him she’d delivered this speech many times before. Hoping to soothe her ruffled feelings, he smiled. “It sounds like a valuable thing to offer, and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I was just curious about the numbers, because sometimes using them to illustrate your point carries more weight with bureaucrats than pure sentiment does.”

“Well, that’s different,” she announced, shaking off the fit of temper with a breezy laugh. “I guess I’m so used to defending the arts, I get my back up too easily. Thirty-four kids come in on a regular basis, but around holidays like Christmas and Easter we get more because they like making gifts for people.”

No mention of Mother’s Day, he noticed, although he was fairly certain that was also on the list. He appreciated her avoiding the difficult subject, and while he didn’t normally interfere in people’s endeavors, her sensitivity made him more inclined to volunteer some advice. “If you’d like, we can sit down and review the finances for the program, see if there might be a way to generate the revenue you need to keep it on firmer footing. That way you and your Rembrandts-in-training wouldn’t be so dependent on the school board to keep the club afloat.”