Loving Hearts Read online

  Ian took the liberty of watching Esther.

  Though quiet, she leaned back with her face turned toward the sun. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, and as she did so often, she reached up and tucked a few loose strands behind her ear.

  He watched her pull suntan lotion from her shoulder bag and rub it along her neck and arms to protect her fair skin.

  “Would you like some?” she asked, extending the plastic bottle. “I’ll put it on for you. Your neck is the most likely to burn, I think.”

  Ian held his breath, waiting in expectation until her cool hands rested on his skin, glided along his hairline then down his neck. When she was finished, she gave him a playful squeeze.

  He loved the feel of her gentle touch on his skin. The intimacy. Most of all, he loved having Esther at his side, bantering like a real friend.

  Books by Gail Gaymer Martin

  Love Inspired

  Upon a Midnight Clear #117

  Secrets of the Heart #147

  A Love for Safekeeping #161

  Loving Treasures #177

  Loving Hearts #199

  Silhouette Romance

  Her Secret Longing #1545

  Let’s Pretend… #1604

  GAIL GAYMER MARTIN

  loves so many things—her husband, family, writing, singing and her Lord. She grew up in nearby Madison Heights, Michigan, and now lives with her real-life hero, Bob, in Lathrup Village. Though she’d written all her life—stories, articles for professional journals, skits and poems for fellow teachers and programs for her church—she finally captured her dream of writing professionally after she retired.

  Gail is an award-winning, multipublished author in nonfiction and fiction with fourteen novels, five novellas and many more to come. Her Steeple Hill Love Inspired romance, Upon a Midnight Clear, won a Holt Medallion in 2001. Besides writing, Gail enjoys singing, public speaking and presenting writers’ workshops. She believes that God’s gift of humor gets her through even the darkest moment.

  She loves to hear from her readers. Write to her at [email protected] or at P.O. Box 760063, Lathrup Village, MI 48076.

  LOVING HEARTS

  GAIL GAYMER MARTIN

  Published by Steeple Hill Books™

  My purpose is that they may be

  encouraged in heart and united in love.

  —Colossians 2:2

  Laban replied: “It is not our custom here to give the

  younger daughter in marriage before the older one.”

  —Genesis 29:26

  To my nieces, Jodi and Andrea,

  both with loving husbands,

  loving families and loving hearts.

  Dear Reader,

  No matter where I go in Michigan, I’m no farther than six miles from a body of water—rivers, streams, lakes and the Great Lakes. I suppose that’s why I love it so. Nothing is more comforting than watching the sun set on a rippling lake, hearing rowboat oars dip into the water on a quiet night, or feeling the wind in my hair on a boat ride. On my parents’ property on the Straits of Mackinac, I spent many summers washed in God’s glory of sun, moonlight and water. I suppose this love of Michigan has guided me to set my LOVING series in a small imaginary town on Lake Michigan near Grand Haven. Surrounded by water, my readers will have the opportunity to meet the townspeople, to mourn their sorrows and to rejoice in the blessings that God bestows on them. The story reminds us that in every town we are surrounded by God’s love and comfort. We only have to open our eyes to see Him waiting for us to accept it.

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  “You’ve cut your hair.”

  Startled, Esther Downing raised her attention from the pile of books and gaped at Ian Barry’s deep blue eyes smiling at her through dark-framed spectacles. “Yes, I had it cut.” She’d read his name many times on his library card, but he’d never spoken to her beyond general comments.

  “I like it,” he said, still focusing on her new style.

  “Thanks.” Guided by a natural reflex, she brushed her hand down her shorter cut. Pushing her discomfort aside, Esther regained composure. She forced a casual smile. “Can I help you?”

  “Sure thing,” he said, then hesitated. “You always wore it back in…some kind of a twist.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your hair. I like it down and soft around your face. You look…” He smiled. “Nice.”

  “That’s kind,” Esther said, addled by his compliment. “Now—” she drew in a calming breath “—what can I do for you?”

  A shy grin tugged at his mouth. “I’m looking for a book.” His lips parted to a full smile. “I suppose a library is a good place to find one.”

  She only nodded, totally confused by the chatty dialogue.

  “Here,” he said, dipping his hand beneath his spring jacket and pulling a folded paper from his shirt pocket. He laid the note on the counter and pointed. “This is what I need.”

  Esther eyed the list. “Hull Parameters and Performance? I’m not sure—”

  “For a sailboat,” he said. “I’m planning to refurbish an old cutter I bought.”

  His words sent her on a wave of nostalgia. “I loved to sail…once.” Her voice faded with her admission.

  “Once?” His eyebrows rose. “I thought sailing was like the circus. It gets in your blood.” He rested his arm on the counter.

  “Not mine. I had an unc—” Amazed that she had almost burdened a stranger with her past, she stifled her thought.

  A faint frown pulled at his features. “Something happened?”

  “It’s not important. Let me see what—”

  “Yes, it is.” He gave her forearm a gentle touch.

  Esther wavered at the warmth that fired along her skin.

  “A boating accident?” he asked, genuine interest reflected in his eyes.

  She wished she were able to retract her earlier disclosure. She nodded, feeling the tug of unpleasant memories. “An uncle. My father’s brother drowned in a storm on Lake Michigan.”

  “I’m sorry, Esther.”

  Esther. His voice sounded gentle and sincere. He’d obviously read her name on the desk nameplate, but he’d never said it before. Today his tender reference caught her by surprise.

  “Thanks. It was long ago right here in Loving. We were just kids, but we loved sailing with him. Our whole family.”

  “You don’t sail anymore?” he asked.

  She shook her head, feeling a prickle of sadness.

  “You should. Remember the old adage. If you fall off a horse, get back on and ride.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t think I’ve heard that particular adage.”

  Ian grinned back. “Someone said something like that. You get the point.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Accidents happen every day. Cars, planes, trains…and boats. We never know when it’s our time to go. You can’t let someone else’s time for heaven stop you from enjoying life.”

  She shrugged, amazed at the compassion etching his face. And he was right. Her uncle was certainly in heaven. “Let me look up that book for you,” she said, needing to get her rattled thoughts in check.

  “I’m not sure you�
��ll find a book by that name,” he said. “It’s more like a topic.”

  Esther entered the subject into the computer and ran a search. Nothing. She pinched the bridge of her nose and thought.

  “If you can’t find that, try hull design or sailboat design,” he said, watching the screen.

  When she typed in the new subject, a list of books appeared. She grabbed a pen and jotted down the Dewey decimal numbers. “Let me show you where these are located.”

  When she came from behind the counter and stepped beside him, a faint aroma of tangy citrus enveloped her. She liked the fresh, natural fragrance, which seemed to fit this gentle man.

  Short of help in the small library, she often stayed behind the checkout counter and guided the patrons with verbal directions. Today she’d been motivated to lead the way. As they walked side by side, Ian’s arm brushed her shoulder. She calculated his size—about four inches taller than her five foot seven. A good-looking man, though his features seemed overpowered by his dark-rimmed glasses.

  Drawing her attention from Ian, she checked the cataloging numbers and found the aisle. Moving between the shelves, she located books on sailing. “Here they are.” She indicated various volumes that had appeared on her computer screen.

  “Thanks,” he said, sending her a pleasant smile, “I’ll take a look.”

  She watched him thumb through an index, then select another book before she retreated to her desk, her curiosity aroused. What had caused this sudden burst of friendship? Though Esther knew he was an avid reader and frequented the library often, Ian had always seemed quiet and restrained. Why now did she notice such a change?

  Her hand instinctively rose to her hair, and she fondled the blunt ends. Before the cut, she’d worn it in a French twist most of the time. Now the new style had given her a fresh image. When she looked in the mirror, Esther saw a younger, friendlier face. Maybe that’s why Ian had behaved differently today.

  Esther often—too often, she thought—heard her voice spark with business and sensed an aloofness in her demeanor despite her desire to act otherwise.

  She wished she were more like Rachel. Her younger sister found it easy to make friends and talk to strangers. Approachable. That’s what Esther longed to be.

  From behind the checkout desk she observed Ian carrying a stack of books to a nearby table. From the corner of her eye she watched him slide off his jacket and toss it over the chair back. In contrast to his trim waist, Ian’s broad shoulders surprised her. He opened each book and scanned the pages, then put some in one stack and some in another.

  Realizing she was ogling, Esther winced while a sinking feeling fluttered through her stomach. Ian smiled her way, and she felt certain he’d caught her staring at him.

  Her face burning with mortification, she turned away and busied herself at the computer or checked out books for patrons—anything to avoid looking his way. Usually priding herself on doing her job and keeping herself focused, today she’d never felt so inept.

  “I’ll take these.”

  Hearing his voice, Esther jumped, then lassoed her nervous energy and gained control. “Apparently you found something useful,” she said, pulling his books forward. “These can be checked out for two months. Two weeks,” she corrected.

  “Two weeks should do it,” he said, resting his hands on the counter edge.

  “If you need any more information, we have computers that our visitors can use…to locate books and do their own Internet research. I can show—”

  “What I’d really like is to have someone do the work for me,” he said.

  She studied his face to see if he were serious.

  “You don’t happen to know anyone who does research, do you?”

  Esther’s pulse skipped. She wanted to avoid the truth, but she couldn’t. “I do. I have my own business.”

  “Really?” His gaze caught hers.

  “Just part-time.”

  “You’re kidding. Here at the library?” he asked.

  “No, at home. I have an office there.”

  “Could I have your business card?”

  His question rattled her and a knot worked its way up her back. Befuddled by her reaction, she reached beneath the desk where she kept a few cards and handed him one.

  Ian dropped it into his pocket. “Thanks. You might come in handy…I mean, your service.”

  She nodded while a faint grin settled on her mouth. Pulling her gaze from his, she ran his books through the scanner and placed them in a neat pile. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks. I wouldn’t feel so pressured if I weren’t taking vacation time in a couple weeks to get the boat in shape. After the tourist season begins, my job’s too hectic.” He pulled the books to the edge of the counter and paused.

  Realizing he was waiting for her to respond, she asked the question that rose in her mind. “Where do you work?”

  “Bay Breeze Resort.” His head tilted in the direction of the resort. “On Lake Michigan. I’m the assistant manager under Philip Somerville.” Pride registered in his voice.

  “Really? My sister’s fian…steady works there, too.” Fiancé. The word stuck in her throat, reminding her of the eternal problem she had to face.

  “Small world. What’s his name?”

  “Jeff Langley. Do you know him?”

  Ian smiled. “Know him? Sure. Jeff’s the reception desk manager.”

  “Maybe you know my sister, then? Rachel Downing. I’m sure he’s taken her to some of the staff parties.”

  “Possibly. I meet so many people.” He leaned closer, his tone confidential. “To be honest, I avoid the events when I can.”

  Surprised, Esther wondered why. Maybe he felt the way she did—not really happy in large crowds. “You’ll have to look for Rachel next time.”

  “I will.” He grinned and adjusted his glasses. “You should come by the resort for dinner some night. Or lunch. You and…”

  “Rachel? I might do that.” Or did he mean her and a date? His engaging look gave her the jitters. She wished he would be on his way. Though she liked his gentle good nature, his questions and the glint in his eye flustered her.

  He gathered the books in his arms and took a step backward. “Thanks for your card. Maybe I’ll see you at Bay Breeze sometime.”

  Maybe not, Esther thought as he walked toward the door. She watched until he vanished, her mind a flutter of confusion. How many men had she helped locate books? For how many customers had she done research? So why had she reacted this way? As the question entered her mind, she’d found the answer. Esther had no interest in befriending a man…especially one compelled to sail.

  Despite her feelings, Ian’s shy smile swept through her thoughts.

  Ian rose from his desk, wadded the wrapper from his sandwich and arched it into the wastebasket. His hunger hadn’t subsided, and, remembering Bay Breeze’s great desserts, he considered finagling some pie from the restaurant.

  The books he’d borrowed from the library the week before lay strewn across his desk, and he gathered them up in a neat pile. He’d found lunch break a convenient time to study the information and jot down some of the details he thought might be useful.

  He’d never refurbished a boat before, but the thought excited him. As a young man he’d sailed with his father and knew the ropes. Yet that didn’t mean he could rebuild a cutter. Wishing his father were alive, he imagined how pleasurable it might be to share the experience with him. Another impossible dream.

  His vacation would begin in another week, and he prayed he could make the most of his time. He’d rented a slip at the local marina and had the vessel in dry dock. At least he’d made a beginning.

  The librarian’s image rose in his thoughts. He’d wanted to kick himself when he called her Esther. He’d seen her name on her desk and had secretly let the word roll off his tongue so many times. Esther. The name sounded wholesome and rather old-fashioned. Biblical, he recalled.

  Ian had surprised himself last week in the library
. Opening his mouth to ask for the books, he’d heard himself talk about her hair…as if he was a stylist. She probably thought he was weird.

  Laughing at himself, he drew back his shoulders, deciding he didn’t care. He found the woman attractive and, more than that, kind and intelligent. He’d watched her in the library helping children, teenagers and adults. No matter what age or manner, Esther seemed to have the answers they needed. Ian had admired her from afar. But not last week. He’d blatantly fawned over her.

  That day, he’d made a mistake. Ian had seen her protective shield rise immediately when he became too familiar. She’d stiffened at his comments instead of enjoying the attention, as he’d hoped she might.

  Ian pulled open his desk drawer and eyed Esther’s business card. Realizing that he might have use for her services during his month’s work on the boat, he pulled out his wallet and slipped the card into one of the credit card slots, then slid the wallet into his back pocket.

  Who was he kidding? He had more interest in Esther than in her research. Instead of hiring her, he’d save money by hanging out in the library and doing his own.

  For someone thirty-five, he disappointed himself. Why didn’t he have the courage to introduce himself, tell Esther he admired her and ask her to dinner? As the question crossed his mind, the answer followed in neon. He’d been brushed off too many times not to be a little punchy about taking the dramatic step forward. Instead, he’d take one small step at a time.

  The pie slipped back into his thoughts and Esther’s image drifted into a quiet reverie as he started for the dining room. Since tourist season wouldn’t begin for another few weeks, the resort restaurant provided a quiet haven for businessmen meeting over lunch and locals celebrating special occasions.