Guardian Angels

By Janet Kaderli

Kathryn Snyder's sister is married to Matt Larsen's brother. That fact does not make them the best of friends. The only thing they have in common is both are crazy about their eighteen month old niece, Zoë. They share the delight and responsibility of being Zoë’s god-parents.

When tragedy strikes and Zoë’s parents are killed in a car wreck, Kathryn and Matt are named as Zoë’s guardians. Can Kathryn balance the demands of the career she’s always wanted with instant motherhood? Will Matt be able to adapt his independent way of life to care for a toddler? Somehow, Kathryn and Matt must not only deal with their individual issues but also work together and find common ground to become Zoë’s "Guardian Angels."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janet Kaderli
• Release date: Nov 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370452873

Janet Kaderli

Hello! Welcome to my author page here at Smashwords. I've written books for a variety of ages. No matter the age level, all my books are about family, love, and happy endings. I've been blessed with all of the above, and love to share my stories.

Book preview

Guardian Angels

By

Janet Kaderli

Other Books by Janet Kaderli

Children’s Books:

Molasses Cookies

Patchwork Trail

Many Places

So Many Places To Go

Novels:

Santa’s Angels

Guardian Angels

Twelve Days at Silverleaf

Nonfiction:

History of the First United Methodist Church of New Braunfels

The Twelve Days of Christmas: A Devotional

For more information go to www.janetkaderli.com.

Guardian Angels is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2014 Janet Kaderli

Revised text copyright © 2016 Janet Kaderli

Cover art copyright © 2016 Tatiana Chekryzhova/Shutterstock.com

All Rights Reserved

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to Sherry, Natalie, Joyce, and Lisa for proofreading the book. Your help was greatly appreciated.

A Child’s Day

A child’s day is a busy day.

A child’s work often looks like play.

As she plays she explores;

New experiences open doors

Taking her places exciting and new

Although they seem commonplace to you.

For her it is the first time ever

To see the moon and stars, and never

Has grass grown or been mowed

Or flowers bloomed or seeds been sowed.

The wonder of the world is there

In garden, field, and in the air.

And every day is a new frontier

Of things to feel and see and hear.

And every night as she rests

You look at her and feel blessed

That God has entrusted one to you

To help you see the world anew.

Chapter One

And . . . done.

Matt Larsen typed in a few more characters of code then pushed away from the computer desk. A glance at the clock showed it was just past six AM. He’d worked all night. He should’ve been tired, but getting this contract finished left him exhilarated. He’d concluded the project in record time, a week before the completion date he’d quoted to his client.

After a few hours of shut-eye, he would look back over his work and double-check for errors. For now, it was a done deal. He turned off the computer, stood and stretched his six-foot frame, his muscles protesting at sitting too long.

An advantage of working at home, besides working all night if he wanted to, was being able to wear whatever he wanted. Dressed in running gear, all he needed to do was stretch and he’d be ready to hit the road. Work the kinks out. Add endorphins to the high of putting the last touches on this job.

He couldn’t help grinning as he left his office and crossed through the utility room into the kitchen. As he poured a glass of orange juice, he peered out the window over the sink and imagined firing up the grill in the backyard. A sunny Texas afternoon with good barbecue and friends was one of his favorite pastimes, especially this time of year.

True, autumn wouldn’t officially arrive until near the end of the month, and the days wouldn’t cool off for another month after that, but football season had begun, and life was good.

His house was quiet and dark as he left the kitchen, crossing through the living room to the front door. Finishing this job lifted a burden from his shoulders. He’d proven to himself he could make it on his own, outside the corporate tech world.

After closing and locking the front door behind him, he pocketed the keys and took a few minutes to stretch before hitting the road. Had to be careful of his left Achilles tendon. It tended to act up if he skipped stretching or ran too hard.

One of the reasons he’d bought an older home in Austin’s Tarrytown neighborhood was its proximity to his favorite running paths. Today, he’d stay in his own neighborhood, joining others as they got in a run before the day’s heat set in.

He headed down the block, waving at his neighbor as he went by. Mrs. Johnson was an early riser and enjoyed working in her yard before breakfast. She returned his wave.

Have a good run, she called.

Thanks.

People like Mrs. J. were another reason he liked this neighborhood. Although in her early seventies, Mrs. Johnson was as friendly to newcomers as she was to long-time residents. Over the three years since he moved in, they had come to watch out for each other. He explained her cell phone and email set-ups to her; she gave him tips on barbecue sauce.

As always when he ran, his brain moved at its own pace, sorting through a mash-up of thoughts. The central theme to his musings was relief. The project he’d just finished was the third one for his fledgling security software development company, but the most important assignment he’d received. This undertaking paved the way for future contracts.

After a mile, he turned back. His parents had invited him to come to the condo they’d rented in Port Aransas for the Labor Day weekend. His brother and his family would be there. Matt decided to have a nap then throw some stuff in his car and head down. Join up with the rest of the family. He imagined that Zoë, his brother’s eighteen month old daughter, was having a great time playing in the sand and being spoiled rotten by her grandparents.

Sure, he’d brag a bit about completing the project. Even though he and his older brother, Mike, were in their thirties and old enough to know better, there was a bit of sibling competition between them. A person only had to look at them to know they were brothers. Both had brown hair, brown eyes, square chin, and were tall and athletic. They looked a lot like their father. Outside of looks and being brothers, they didn’t have much in common. Mike was normal, for want of a better word. Mike would never stay up all night to complete a project. It would never occur to him to leave his corporate job and set up his own company in the first place. Not that he wasn’t capable—Mike was great at everything he did.

No, Matt was the one who not only thought but lived outside the box. In fact, he wasn’t even sure there was a box. His mom said he was a late bloomer. His dad called him a maverick. The rules and paths other people followed had never made sense to him.

Mike was the successful executive vice-president and wore a suit to the office, had a beautiful wife and daughter, and lived in a new-money neighborhood in north Austin. Matt didn’t have the wife, kid, fancy house, or wear a suit. He had his own business, set his own hours, and lived on his own terms.

Returning to his house, he ran up the steps onto the front porch. Jogging in place, he raised his hands above his head in victory like Rocky Balboa.

He’d just completed the most important project of his career. Yes!

Going into the house, he hunted down his cell phone and found it where he’d tossed it on his bed sometime last night before he’d started work. As he picked it up, he noticed he’d let the charge run down.

Crossing to the dresser, he attached the phone to the charger. The small screen lit up and he saw the notice for voicemail. That was unusual. It had been after ten last night when he’d gone back to work, and it was now hitting seven. Who would call during that time? Unless it was an emergency.

His gut clenched as he checked the messages and heard his mother’s voice.

Matt. It’s Mom. Mike and Shari have been in a wreck. Call me.

The message sucked the strength from his body. Matt sank onto the bed, the phone a dead weight in his hand.



Kathryn Snyder closed her book and leaned her head against the high back of the sofa, eyes squeezed shut as she committed what she’d read to memory. She had a little over two months to prepare to take the final portion of the Certified Public Accountant exam. She had passed three sections of the test in the arduous process, each part taking up to four hours. In November she’d take the final section and complete all the requirements necessary to become a Certified Public Accountant.

Opening her eyes, she looked around her apartment. Correction, not an apartment: her first investment in real estate. The condominium in a revitalized neighborhood off Enfield Road close to downtown Austin had been the perfect addition to her portfolio. A three-story unit, the ground level boasted a private garage, utility room, and storage. The second level contained her main living space, with an open concept living room, dining room, and kitchen. There was also a small office and bathroom on the second level. Upstairs contained a suite of two bedrooms and the master bath.

Wanting her furnishings to appear upscale but aware of her budget, she had furnished the place with designer-named furniture collected one piece at a time online, at thrift stores and consignment shops. The result was warm and inviting. The few antiques she had inherited from her grandmother fit in quite well.

The only drawback was all the stairs--from the garage to the living area, from the living area to the bedrooms. Still, going up and down stairs beat going to the gym for a workout. She loathed going to the gym. The financial firm she worked for included a gym membership in their benefits package. She made it a point to work out a couple of times a week, more for networking purposes than for her health.

She’d gotten up early this Saturday morning to get her studying out of the way. Her plans for the rest of the day included baking and decorating a birthday cake for one of her friends.

Although she enjoyed cooking in general, baking was her passion. Cakes were her specialty. She’d taken a couple of classes in cake decorating, and enjoyed making cakes for special occasions. She’d made the cake for her niece’s first birthday last March.

The memory of how Zoë had looked with frosting and cake on her hands, face and in her hair made Kathryn smile. Such a cutie! Shari, Kathryn's sister, was a great mother.

Better her than me, Kathryn thought, putting her book and notes on the coffee table.

Not that Kathryn had anything against children. She adored them, when they were someone else’s. Her life hadn’t followed the marriage and family path. Her ambitions led her into the business world. Working on her CPA meant classes, studying, and internship. Sure, a relationship would have been wonderful, if--and only if--he could understand how much she needed to make her mark in the business arena.

Since no one she’d dated fit that description, she remained happily single.

As she crossed to the kitchen, she stopped at the counter and checked off Study on her to-do list. On to the next thing—baking Natalie’s birthday cake.

As she reached into the cabinet for her favorite mixing bowl, her cell phone rang. Sighing, she crossed the living room to the antique flip-down desk she used for a charging station and picked up her phone. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID.

Something prompted her to answer instead of letting the call go to voicemail. Hello?

Kathryn. Hi. It’s Matt. Mike’s brother. The words came at her in a rush.

Hi, Matt. What was her sister’s lost in cyberspace brother-in-law doing calling her? What’s up?

I have some bad news. Can you meet me at Mike and Shari’s house?

Kathryn froze, every nerve springing alert. Is it Zoë? What happened?

Zoë’s fine. She’s with my parents. They’re on their way up from Port Aransas.

Where are Mike and Shari?

We’ll talk when you get here.

Her throat closed. She wanted to ask questions but was afraid of the answers. I’ll get there as soon as I can.

Fine. Be careful.

She slipped the phone in her pocket and ran her hand through her short hair.

Oh, God, something bad has happened. Help!



Matt paced the driveway in front of Mike and Shari’s house, counting the minutes since he’d called Kathryn. It hadn’t taken him long to drive up MoPac and make it to the north Austin neighborhood where Mike and Shari lived. How long would it take Kathryn? Waiting was driving him crazy.

At the same time, he wasn’t anxious to talk to his brother’s sister-in-law. It wasn’t that they didn’t get along; they barely knew each other. His brother had married her sister. The only thing she and Matt had in common was both were crazy about their niece. They shared the delight and responsibility of being Zoë’s god-parents.

What he had to tell her wouldn’t be easy even if they were the best of friends.

Finally, her car pulled into the driveway and parked next to his Jeep SUV.

What’s going on? she demanded before the car door had slammed shut behind her.

Matt started to speak then hesitated. He’d never realized how much Kathryn looked like Shari. They had the same coloring—fair skin, reddish-brown hair, blue eyes. Kathryn was more slender than Shari, and wore her hair shorter. Seeing her made him realize he’d never see Shari again. Or Mike.

The weight of his news almost crushed him.

Let’s go inside, he said. It looks like rain.

They fell into step as they walked to the house. Kathryn had her arms crossed tightly as if trying not to shiver. Was she cold? he wondered. Or was she trying, like him, to hold herself together?

Matt opened the front door for her and stood aside as she entered. He’d been in the house earlier, but had decided to wait outside. The silent emptiness inside unnerved him.

With Kathryn beside him, they walked through the entry into the family room. Zoë’s toys were stacked into a toy box. Books and magazines were tucked into a basket beside the couch. The rug covering the hardwood floor showed recent vacuum tracks. Not a speck of dust anywhere. The room was ready for the family to walk through the door and take up where they’d left off.

They’re not coming back, are they? Kathryn whispered, as if catching his thought. She rubbed her arms. As soon as you told me Zoë was all right but wouldn’t talk about Mike and Shari, I knew. She looked up at him, eyes spilling tears. Why I didn’t sense anything serious had happened this morning before you called?

I didn’t either, Matt said. Until I plugged in my phone and heard my mom’s message, this was the best morning of my life.

Kathryn wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks. How did it happen?

Matt took her elbow and led her to the sofa. Every year, my parents rent a condo at Port Aransas for the Labor Day weekend. They invited Mike and Shari to bring Zoë down to the beach. Last night, Mom and Dad kept Zoë while Mike and Shari drove to a restaurant on Mustang Island. On their way back, they were hit head-on by another driver. My parents heard the guy had a history of DWI.

Kathryn covered her face with her hands. Oh, no. Your poor parents. Poor Zoë.

They sat side by side, staring across the room at nothing. Matt wondered if the broken feeling would ever go away. Poor Mom and Dad, he echoed. Poor Zoë. Poor him and poor Kathryn. They’d all lost so much.

He started when Kathryn put her hand on his shoulder. Looking into her face, he realized that, in spite of their differences, she was the only person in the world who understood what he felt. Covering her hand with his, he nodded, acknowledging their shared grief. He started to say something, but found he couldn’t speak. A lump had formed in his throat. Tears ran down his face.

He was crying. He hadn’t cried in ages.

Kathryn put her arms around him. Hiding her face against his shoulder, her shoulders shook as she sobbed.

Yesterday he’d have felt awkward simply sitting on the same sofa as Kathryn. Today he held her, his cheek against her hair, and gave into the emotion he’d held in check since talking with his mother.

After several minutes, Kathryn drew away from him and left the room, returning shortly with a box of tissues. She handed them to him then went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of water. Giving him one, she took a seat in a chair and said, When are your parents going to get here?

"In a couple of hours.

She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall between the dining room and living room and nodded. What do we need to do?

Matt took a deep breath, appreciating the change of focus and a chance to take action.

Mom suggested we pick up Zoë’s things and take them to my house. They’ll stay there until things get settled.

Settled, she echoed. What will that entail?

Matt cleared his throat. The funeral, of course. Afterward . . . Mike and Shari made out a will recently, and named me executor.

She nodded. You’ll be handling the estate.

Right. I have to make sure the instructions in their wills are followed. He took a breath and released it. Of course, their main reason in making out a will was to make sure Zoë would be taken care of.

Kathryn grew still, her attention centered on him. What about Zoë?

Matt looked straight into her eyes. The will specifies that you and I will have joint guardianship of Zoë.

Chapter Two

Zoë clung to her aunt’s leg, making it impossible for Kathryn to move. With her tear-streaked face turned up, she implored, No-no, no-no!

Kathryn knelt on the hardwood floor in the entry of Matt’s house and picked up the little one. Zoë held a shabby pink blanket. It trailed as Kathryn lifted her. It’s all right, Zoë. I won’t be gone long.

A stab of guilt went through her as she said the words. No doubt Shari had said something similar when she left Zoë with her grandparents. She hadn’t come back. No wonder the child had developed separation anxiety over the past several days.

Kathryn had been spending most of her free time at Matt’s house where his parents and Zoë were staying. Sometimes she took Zoë to her apartment for a few hours to give the Larsens a break. Today she had dropped by for a few minutes to deliver a casserole she’d made for dinner. The plan had been