The Harvest Read online

  PRAISE FOR GAIL GAYMER MARTIN:

  “Gail Gaymer Martin’s best book to date.

  Real conflict and very likeable characters

  enhance this wonderful romantic story.”

  —Romantic Times on Loving Hearts

  “Perhaps Gail Gaymer Martin’s best,

  a romantic suspense novel you’ll want to read—

  during the day!”

  —Romantic Times on A Love for Safekeeping

  “…an emotional, skillfully written story

  about mature subject matter. You’ll probably

  need a box of tissues for this one.”

  —Romantic Times on Upon a Midnight Clear

  PRAISE FOR CYNTHIA RUTLEDGE:

  “Cynthia Rutledge jumps off the beaten track

  again, with another notable book.”

  —Romantic Times on Wedding Bell Blues

  “Characterizations and voice

  are her usual high standard.”

  —Romantic Times on Judging Sara

  “There is nothing typical about this

  wonderful story. The Marrying Kind

  is another winner from start to finish!”

  —Romantic Times on The Marrying Kind

  GAIL GAYMER MARTIN

  lives with her real-life hero in Lathrup Village, Michigan. Growing up in nearby Madison Heights, Gail wrote poems and stories as a child and progressed to writing professional journals, skits and poems for teachers, and programs for her church. When she retired, she tried her hand at her dream—writing novels.

  Gail is a multipublished author in nonfiction and fiction with ten novels and five novellas, and many more to come. Her Steeple Hill Love Inspired romances Upon a Midnight Clear and Loving Treasures won Holt Medallions in 2001 and 2003. 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 moments and praises God for His blessings. Visit her Web site at www.gailmartin.com. She loves to hear from her readers. E-mail her at [email protected] or write to P.O. Box 760063, Lathrup Village, MI 48076.

  CYNTHIA RUTLEDGE

  grew up wanting to write books. She wrote her first book at fourteen, but when it received less than stellar reviews from those she let read it, she relegated it to the trash and didn’t write again for years. She started writing again as an adult and sold her first book to Steeple Hill in 1999. That book, Unforgettable Faith, will always be special to her because it opened the door to her career at Steeple Hill. It remains the only book set in her home state of Nebraska.

  “Loving Grace” is Cynthia’s eighth title for Love Inspired. Her July 2002 Love Inspired novel, Wedding Bell Blues, was nominated for a Bookseller’s Best Award. She has also written two books for Silhouette Romance.

  THE HARVEST

  GAIL GAYMER MARTIN

  CYNTHIA RUTLEDGE

  Dear Reader,

  I’m excited to share this book with my friend Cynthia Rutledge. Writing stories set around Thanksgiving brings warm memories of families and friends, and reminds us of God’s goodness. It’s a time to thank and praise the Lord for all of His blessings. One blessing that stands out in my mind is my parents’ lakefront property outside Mackinaw City, with its magnificent view of the Mackinac Bridge spanning the Straits for five miles, and the sight of quaint Mackinac Island. This locale—the quiet woods, rolling waves and night sky with a million stars—is the major setting for “All Good Gifts.” I always feel so close to God in the hush of the Mackinaw woods. May the Lord bless you always as you offer your thanksgiving.

  “Loving Grace” brings back Nick Tucci, a man we first met in the book Judging Sara. The main character in that book was Nick’s brother “Crow,” whom we’d first met in Undercover Angel. Sounds kind of like a soap opera, doesn’t it? Actually you can blame this all on my childhood. When I was a young girl, I loved books with recurring characters, and that’s why you often see them in my stories. I hope you enjoy reading “Loving Grace” and Gail Gaymer Martin’s “All Good Gifts,” and that your upcoming holiday season is filled with God’s blessings.

  CONTENTS

  ALL GOOD GIFTS

  Gail Gaymer Martin

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  LOVING GRACE

  Cynthia Rutledge

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  ALL GOOD GIFTS

  Gail Gaymer Martin

  In memory of my mother,

  who loved our Mackinaw property

  and whose artwork helps it live on.

  —GGM

  For everything God created is good,

  and nothing is to be rejected if it is received

  with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated

  by the word of God and prayer.

  —1 Timothy 4:4-5

  Chapter One

  Thump. Thump.

  Tess Britton lowered the poker and listened while her free hand pressed against her heart. Was that the sound of her own throbbing pulse or something else…something outside?

  She listened again.

  Thump.

  A shiver coursed through her. She moved to the front window and looked toward the sloped path heading to the lake. Surrounded by pine trees and a shrouded moon, Tess saw only blackness.

  She shook her head at her nervous reaction and drew her shoulders upward in a calming breath. How foolish. The cabin had always served as a getaway—her sanctuary—but in the evening, the quiet, natural setting set her on edge. Even when Al had been at her side, the rustle and skitter coming from outside sent her nerves vacillating like a yo-yo.

  Since she’d been widowed, her life had changed in far more ways than just experiencing jitters in the dark. She felt abandoned, deceived by Al…and by God. Her dreams and hopes had faded away like tonight’s cloud-covered moon, leaving her shrouded in unanswered questions and self-created answers that caused her guilt and fear.

  Tess lifted her gaze to the sky and thought of God. How long had it been since she’d prayed? Forever, it seemed. Though black and silent, the heavens glimmered with pinpricks of stars. One glowing orb stood out among the rest, its beams stretching and glinting into the blackness. A silent hope…a prayer lifted heavenward. A prayer that something would shine in her life again.

  Tess pushed herself away from the window, feeling like a child wishing on a star. Wishes and dreams had no connection with the real world. She’d gotten over Al’s death, but not the circumstances. Not the horrible reality she learned that day. Could she ever trust a man again?

  Shaking her head, she returned to the fireplace and took a couple of prodding pokes, hoping to dispel the dank gloom that surrounded her. She’d arrived in Mackinaw City at dusk and drove to the property in the woods along the shore. When she arrived, Tess had walked into the damp, cold cabin, shaking from the October chill.

  Now the warmth from the fireplace helped. When she turned away, instead of returning to her chair and her half-read novel, Tess headed toward the kitchenell off the living room. She snapped on the radio, rotating the dial and settling on the only station she could find, a combination of country music and static. She crossed to the stove and turned
on the burner under the teakettle. A warm drink would feel comforting on a chilly evening.

  Tess searched through the carton she’d carried in earlier and found the cocoa mix, then grabbed a cup and spoon. As she dipped into the mixture, another ponderous thud sent her heart pumping while cocoa dust splayed across the counter and onto the floor.

  “Calm down,” she said aloud, pausing a moment to settle her nerves.

  She cleaned up the mess, then blew a puff of pent-up air from her cheeks as she went and plopped into her chair and flipped open her novel. The tension that crept up the back of her neck to her temples was becoming a throbbing headache. While Tess forced her eyes to focus on the book, she kept half an eye on the clock and half an ear on the teakettle.

  She waited and listened.

  The words blurred, and aroused by the silence, she checked the clock, then the stove.

  No steam. No whistle. Nothing.

  She rose and touched the kettle. Lukewarm. Her spirits sank.

  The propane.

  Feeling self-pity, Tess bit her lower lip. She’d watched both Al and her brother switch the tanks, but she’d never paid much attention. Now she prayed she’d remember what they’d done. Someday she’d pay for a gas line.

  Someday? Maybe not. A new thought had entered her mind on the three-hundred-mile trip up north. She should sell the cabin. Not that she wanted to. It just made sense. The possibility crushed her heart like a steamroller.

  Facing her newest task, Tess slipped on her jacket, then grabbed the red toolbox from a storage cupboard and a flashlight to guide her. She hated feeling inept. All her life she’d been self-assured and confident…until Al’s death. Now she questioned everything. Her ability. Her wisdom. Her judgment.

  Outside, the cold breeze rattled the dried leaves that crunched underfoot as she marched with fabricated confidence to the back of the cabin.

  She set the toolbox on the ground, opened it and found a wrench. But when she straightened, another sound rustled in the underbrush.

  Holding her breath, she paused and listened.

  Porcupine? Skunk?

  Too ponderous.

  A bear?

  The thought quivered through her limbs. She’d heard about bears in the area.

  She swung the beam into the woods, then thought better and snapped off the light as she pressed her back against the cabin and peered into the inky night.

  The cabin’s cedar shakes sent a damp chill up her spine, but she clung to the wall and gaped at a hulking shape emerging from the trees. She swallowed the gasp that struggled to escape.

  The strapping silhouette lumbered in her direction. Her fingers trembled against the flashlight while she gripped the wrench in the other hand, wondering how much damage the implement could do to a hungry bear.

  The form drew nearer. Leaves shifted and crunched beneath its lumbering steps. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

  It came closer.

  Her legs trembled and her prayer flew to heaven as a solution shot into her thoughts. Animals feared light. Grasping her only hope, she raised the flashlight to brandish the beam.

  Instead, the dark form clasped her arm like a vise.

  Tess’s scream pierced the night sky, accompanied by a deep baritone bellow. Her knees buckled, and an arm caught her as the flashlight and wrench tumbled to the ground.

  “What are you doing?” the voice demanded.

  Tess jerked away from the stranger’s clutches. She reeled backward, bracing herself against the cabin. “What are you doing? This is private property.”

  “Yes, I know. Who are you?” A light snapped on and aimed a precision shaft into Tess’s eyes, blinding her from the towering figure.

  She threw her hand across her face to block the glare. “I’m the owner.” She masked her fear, spitting out her words with as much indignation as she could muster.

  When she bent to retrieve her flashlight, a wave of nausea rolled through her, and she crouched, afraid to rise.

  The light followed her downward motion. “Sorry.” His gruff voice softened. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Tess said, swallowing the bile that crept up her throat. She rose, her own light now aimed into the face of the fearful hulk. Her pulse beat in double time as she looked into vaguely familiar eyes.

  His curiosity faded to concern. “I’m really sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine except you scared the life out of me. What are you doing skulking through the woods this time of night?”

  He gestured toward the lake. “I like to walk on the beach at night. No law against that, is there?” An amused expression flickered on his face.

  “No…but there is against scaring someone to death.”

  “I didn’t mean to do that. I saw the light beam coming from behind the cabin and I veered through the woods—” he gave her a telling look “—to startle the burglar. They’ve had some break-ins nearby.”

  The news flash darted through her already-jittered senses. “Thanks for the wonderful bit of information.”

  The man’s expression shifted to earnestness. “Sorry, but you should know. The cabin on the other side of my sister’s was robbed.”

  Her annoyance faded as his undertaking clarified in her mind. How could she be angry at someone who’d endangered himself to protect her property. “Thanks. I’m sorry for being so unpleasant.”

  His tone lightened. “I scared you. You’re forgiven.”

  The rest of his comment awoke in Tess’s thoughts. “What do you mean, your sister? Who is she?”

  “Jill Roddy. Two cottages down. Short, blond—”

  “Jill? Sure. We’ve talked on the beach many times. And I love her little boy, Davie.”

  “My nephew.” He nodded as if agreeing. “You and I have met before. I don’t suppose you remember.” He shifted the flashlight to the left hand and extended his right. “I’m Ryan Walsh.”

  “Ryan?” She accepted his handshake, allowing her memory to take her back to many sun-filled afternoons. “Yes, I remember. I’m Tess Britton.” She searched his face, recalling the vague familiarity but wondering about the change. “But you look so different.”

  “I had a beard then. Plus a few extra pounds.”

  “Is that it?” His amiable smile sent warmth humming along Tess’s limbs. “Your face struck a chord when I first saw you.” His eyes, she corrected herself.

  For a moment they stood with clasped hands while they studied each other in the light beam.

  Recalling their earlier meetings, Tess’s gaze went on an admiring new journey over his tall build and broad shoulders. She returned her focus to his perfect features—the chiseled jaw, a generous smile, a shock of unruly blond hair and green eyes that were like new grass sparkling with dew.

  “Are you alone on this trip?” he asked.

  She lowered her eyes, not wanting to ruin the moment with explanation. “Yes.”

  “I suppose your husband had to work again. That’s too bad.”

  Work again. His statement surprised her while an awkward silence stretched between them. Apparently, he’d remembered how often she’d come up north alone or with her brother and his wife.

  Ryan looked at her a moment, then took a step backward. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No. My husband died two years ago.”

  “I—I’m sorry.” He shifted his feet and lowered his head. “My big mouth.”

  Her gaze settled on his well-formed lips, looking soft and tempting in the moonlight. She winced seeing how uncomfortable he appeared. “Please…you didn’t know. I’m fine now, really.” For the most part, she added to herself.

  “That’s me. Open mouth. Insert foot.”

  “Please. Forget it.”

  Another suffocating silence wavered between them. Finally, Tess broke the stillness.

  “Well, now,” she said, hoping to lighten the mood, “I suppose we look pretty silly standing in the dark introducing ourselves.”

  Ryan
turned his head one way, then the other, peering into the blackness. “Could be, but I don’t see anyone watching us.” He shot her a tender smile.

  Her pulse fluttered with his gentle humor. “Guess not.” Then remembering her purpose, Tess swung her light toward the propane tanks. “I’d better finish this job.”

  Ryan’s gaze followed the direction of the beam. “Propane?”

  “Uh-huh. The tank ran out, but the other’s full…I hope.”

  He crouched to check the gauge, and his action scented the air with a mixture of new leather and a woodsy fragrance.

  Patting the tank, he rose. “You’re right. This one’s full. Let me give you a hand.”

  Tess wanted to say she could do it herself, but she hesitated…wondering if she really could.

  He shone the flashlight downward and picked up the wrench from where she’d dropped it.

  Eager to accept his offer, Tess directed her light as he made quick work of rotating the tanks.

  “There you go.” He straightened and handed Tess the wrench, his eyes focused on hers.

  His direct gaze took her breath away.

  As she mumbled her thanks, her thoughts drifted to the long lonely evening and to the present amiable company. “Would you like to come in for some cocoa?”

  “Cocoa?” His eyebrows flickered above his smiling eyes. “Sure. Sounds good.”

  The tension vanished.

  Tess released a tethered breath and aimed the light to guide her steps around the cabin. Ryan followed, and she stepped aside for him to enter first.

  Inside, the warmth of the fireplace greeted them, and the static had vanished from the radio station. The air hummed with a soft tune.