Going Home Again

By Mildred Colvin

Hope Wilson lost her husband and little girl in one terrible night.

Come to Pleasant Spring, Missouri, at the northern edge of the Ozarks, where almost everyone knows everyone else. Like all small towns, hopes and dreams are shared with laughter and tears, love and prayers. Come fall in love with the unforgettable characters who make up Pleasant Spring, a town that just might resemble your hometown.

Going Home Again is Book Five in the Second Chance Love series—A sweet contemporary Christian romance.

In this clean and wholesome contemporary romance, Hope Ferguson, now known as Rena Wilson, faces some hard days that bring a temptation she doesn’t want. Yet as she fights to get her daughter returned to her, she discovers help is available and she doesn’t have to carry her load alone.

Returning to Pleasant Spring, Missouri, she finds the man she never forgot sitting in her kitchen—hers when she’s met the conditions to inherit. She begins a three-month endurance to prove she’s good enough for the house and to resume being mother to her child. Then threats come to take her daughter, and a man lays claim to the house, sending Hope to the darkness of despair and temptation.

Lawyer Wes Knight and his sister are Hope’s reluctant housemates. Hope broke his heart four years earlier, but he’s never forgotten her. Seeing her, even in passing, each day brings back old memories and feelings he can’t ignore. But is this true love or only sympathy for the girl he remembers?

Although Going Home again is the fifth full-length book in the Second Chance Love series, it is a stand-alone story. You will also enjoy the first four books, Winning Kasi's Love, Marrying for the Child, Searching for Treasure, and Answering Tami’s Prayer—each are stand-alone stories of sweet love and chaste romance with emotion from the heart. Also don't miss Falling for Toni, the next story in this contemporary romance series coming soon!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mildred Colvin
• Release date: Nov 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370308569

Mildred Colvin

Mildred Colvin is a wife, mother of three, and grandmother to three beautiful girls. She started writing when her children were young as they asked for stories. Not from a book. No! They were only satisfied when she made up stories. As the stories grew, she wrote some down and sent them off to magazines. Eight were published before her imagination turned toward love stories, which is what she enjoys reading.She has been writing Christian or clean and wholesome romance since 2001. Over the years several readers from pre-teens to older kids in their eighties and nineties have written expressing their interest in her books. She always loves to hear about one of her stories touching someone's heart. Her purpose in writing is to encourage, entertain, and bless someone else.She lives in the United States and sets her characters in the middle states from Texas to Nebraska and Iowa and reaching across Illinois to Colorado. She also has an Oregon Trail series, but the Great Plains states are her favorite setting.She is active in a very special critique group and has written and published over 60 books in both historical and contemporary themes, and plans to continue writing as long as God allows. He has been good in giving her many ideas for stories. Maybe more than she will be able to finish, but she enjoys each one.Please take a moment to visit her website at www.mildredcolvin.weebly.com, and sign up for her Romantic Reflections Newsletter to learn when new books are released. Also learn of promotions and free books through her newsletter.And take a look at her books. You might find something you don't want to put down.

Book preview

Going Home Again

Mildred Colvin

Going Home Again

by Mildred Colvin

Copyright © 2016 by Mildred Colvin

All rights reserved

Cover Photo Copyright © Derrick Leu

Smashwords Edition

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

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any electronic or mechanical means without permission in writing from its author except in the case of brief quotations used in printed reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events, is entirely coincidental, other than those established by history and of necessity those have been fictionalized.

Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

ISBN: 1540346161

ISBN-13: 978-1540346162

DEDICATION

To the attractive couple on the cover, who graciously allowed me to use one of their wedding photographs. And to their photographer, Derrick Leu, for taking such a beautiful photo.

And to my Savior who gives me words when I can’t find any that make sense. Without You, Lord, I’d have no story to tell. Thank You!!

Chapter 1

She should’ve gone to the lawyer first, but the house drew her like nothing ever had before. Besides, she wouldn’t take long. Just a quick look to reassure her it was still there.

Rena Wilson pulled to the side of the street and stopped, slipping the gearshift into park without turning off the ignition. She wouldn’t stay long but wanted to feast her eyes on the large red two-story Victorian home while memories of an innocent time from her past rolled through her mind. How long ago it seemed since she’d run up the steps to the front door of this house where she’d found love and acceptance with her elderly friend. She glanced at the house next door where she’d grown up, but didn’t linger there.

Mom and Dad were great. Still were. But she’d found a connection with Mrs. Grace Hogan that she’d never found with another person regardless of their age difference. Grace had taught her to cook dishes her mother would have never attempted. They’d spent long hours talking about life and the way things had been when Grace was young. Other girls her age thought she was weird to have an interest in history. They couldn’t understand why she’d enjoy talking to an old woman either, but Grace made history come alive.

Her house and almost everything inside had walked out of the Nineteenth Century, through the Twentieth, and into the Twenty-first. It was amazing. Like she lived in a museum.

Only she wasn’t here now. Sadness and regret swept over Rena as she thought of the woman who’d slipped into eternity without her knowledge. She should’ve come back to see her. If only she could have.

Shaking off the melancholy mood that threatened, Rena gazed at the house, taking in the wide wrap-around front porch. The bay window protruded out on the porch where a girl could sit and watch the cars drive past or shut out the world and burrow into a story from one of her favorite authors. Her eyes shifted to take in the front door and stopped.

It was open.

That shouldn’t be. Rena sat up straighter for a better look. Someone’s here.

She looked toward the driveway that went back to a two-car garage behind the house. A new-looking blue SUV sat in the shade of the old oak tree. She’d been so intent on the house, she hadn’t noticed it before.

Well! Why would anyone be in my house? Rena shut off her car’s motor, jumped out, and ran up the sidewalk to the front steps. She stopped at the door, unsure if she should knock or catch whoever was there unaware. She decided to do both. With a quick tap at the storm door, she opened it and stepped cautiously inside. Hello? Where are you?

Rena stopped, looked around the entrance hall, and immediately stepped back in time. Nothing had changed. The hardwood floor shone. A fresh flower arrangement sat on the occasional table under a mirror. Doors opened into the sitting room, a formal living room, and the dining room with the kitchen beyond that. She couldn’t resist a peek into the front sitting room. Her gaze rested on the window seat, which was probably her favorite place in the entire house. So many times she’d sat there reading while Grace rocked nearby with her crocheting keeping her occupied.

Rena took a step forward and stopped at a sound from the back of the house.

~*~

Wes took the casserole from the oven and set it on the table. He sniffed the rich aroma of cheese and broccoli wafting from the hot dish. Mom was good at seeing that her children ate well. Mallory had better get here if she wanted her share.

The thought no sooner moved through his head than he heard her at the door. A faint click of the door closing preceded her voice. Hello? Where are you?

Strange, for a moment she’d sounded like someone else. Wes ran the voice through his mind again. No, it couldn’t be. He hadn’t heard Hope’s voice in over eight years. Not since she went off to that Christian college in Illinois and he headed to Columbia to the university.

I’m in the kitchen, Mallory. Come on back. He turned to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Mallory hadn’t been sure she’d get off in time to eat with him. Dad must have taken pity on her and let her go. Must be nice being a girl. He’d never been able to wheedle any allowances out of Dad.

Come on, Mallory. The casserole’s already getting cold. Wes stood and took two plates from the cabinet and set them on the table. He took a couple of forks from the silverware drawer as a step at the door alerted him to his sister’s appearance. He turned to face her. Finally, you found your way back to—Hope?

It wasn’t possible. Hope Ferguson? Where’d you come from?

Unless he was dreaming or the old house had conjured up a ghost from his past, Hope stood framed in the doorway, her green eyes wide and her mouth parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Wes? Is it really you? Her soft, smooth voice wasn’t one a man easily forgot.

You’re trespassing, you know. He grinned to let her know he didn’t care.

Her eyes flashed. Trespassing? In my own house? Hardly. She motioned toward the casserole. And what’s this? Your dinner? It looks as if you’re making yourself at home.

He blinked. No, she was still there. Yeah, it’s my lunch, and I am home. I live here now.

She didn’t seem to be listening as she looked around the kitchen. This looks different. Grace must have updated this room. I suppose she probably needed to as she got older.

Grace? He looked at her through narrowed eyes. Of course, you knew Mrs. Hogan, didn’t you? After all you grew up in the house next door.

Yes, I did. Her voice grew soft again. A sheen of moisture covered her eyes. She was a dear friend. I wish I could’ve come back to see her before it was too late. Her gaze landed on him. Wes, it’s good to see you again, but I’d really like to know what you’re doing in my house. How could you possibly live here now?

I’m housesitting for Mrs. Hogan. He followed Hope’s progress as she ran her hand over the new countertop then stopped in front of the cabinet and took out a cup before moving to the coffeemaker and filling it. I assume you already know she passed away three months ago in January. I have an appointment this afternoon with a lady who has inherited this house and its contents. He glanced at the clock on the wall. In fact, I probably should be going now.

Hope took a swallow of coffee, her gaze never leaving his face. He’d love to know what she saw when she looked at him. They’d dated all through high school then lost track of each other when she’d left to never return. Until now. She was still prettier than most women, but he sensed a maturity to her that hadn’t been there before. Where do you live, Hope? Your parents haven’t moved back to town, have they?

A brief smile crossed her lips. No, they still live in the city. I told you, Wes. I’m standing right now in my kitchen. Unless your dad’s law firm made a mistake, Grace Hogan willed this house and everything in it to me.

She didn’t seem to be joking. He’d seen the paperwork, though. The house belonged to a Rena Wilson. In that case, what’s your name?

She sighed. Legally, it’s Rena Wilson, although I’d love to go back to being Hope Ferguson. Maybe I will once this is all settled. So shall we go to the office and let me sign the papers? I had planned to meet with the lawyer first, but I couldn’t resist just one quick look at my house before doing the legal stuff. I’ve always loved this house. Grace was an amazing woman who held a huge heart of love. If you didn’t know her, you missed something special.

I only saw her occasionally. Dad was her attorney for as long as I can remember. Wes wondered if a fog had invaded his brain. Hope was Rena? Who’s Rena? I mean how—

Did I get the name? Hope smiled over the rim of her cup. Didn’t you ever know my middle name?

Maybe. He shook his head. I don’t know.

Hope Serena Ferguson. Grace always called me Rena because she said it sounded more like a star. Singing, you know. Her laughter held no mirth as her gaze lifted beyond him. Probably beyond the room. When I left Pleasant Spring, I changed my name. Wilson is my married name.

Married? Wes almost choked on the word. He bowed his head. This can’t be happening.

That could be said for a lot of things. Was that bitterness in her voice?

So there was a husband somewhere. Wes turned and rinsed his coffee cup then put it in the dishwasher. We need to go to the office and get some things straightened out. He held his hand out. Are you finished with that cup?

She handed it to him, a question in the tilt of her head. What about your dinner?

He rinsed the cup and put it with the other. I’ll eat later. My sister should be here for lunch soon. She can take care of it. He glanced at the clock. If we don’t go now, we’ll be late.

Hope was married. He’d been shocked at her appearance in his kitchen, but even more so at his reaction to her after so long. Then to learn she was married had hit him like a punch. He followed her outside and started to lock the door when he saw his sister pull into the driveway. There’s Mallory now. You’ll need to take your own car. My afternoon’s full so I won’t be free until after five. You know the way?

Yes, I know where your dad’s office is. Hope gave him an intense look. I assume you’re a lawyer now?

At his nod, she smiled. Congratulations.

She waved at Mallory as she hurried down the sidewalk to her car waiting at the curb. Hi, Mallory. Nice to see you again.

Yes, you too.

Wes caught the puzzled look on his sister’s face and shrugged as he passed her. I haven’t gotten to the bottom of this yet, but when I do, I’ll let you know what’s going on. Evidently, Hope is also Rena Wilson.

What?

He didn’t waste any more time but left Mallory standing with her mouth open as he backed out on the street and followed Hope downtown.

~*~

Hope drove to the square while her strange encounter with Wes ran through her mind. A lot had changed since she’d seen him last. At one time she thought Wes would be part of her future. Did he remember the promise they made on their last date? They’d driven in Wes’s old Nova to Lookout Hill just outside town and sat on the cement bench holding hand. looking at the slow-moving river as it lapped against the bank. During a full moon, there might be several cars parked out there, but that night they’d been alone with a half-moon. He’d looked at her as if she was the only girl in the world.

She’d been thrilled, thinking this was their one magically romantic night when Wes would propose. He’d proposed all right—that they go their separate ways. I love you, Hope. I don’t want us to ever forget each other. Right now, our future lies before us, and it’s important we do our very best to make our lives the greatest they can be. He looked deep into her eyes. Let’s say four years from this date, when college is over, we’ll meet right here again and decide from there how we feel. Do we have a date? Four years from today at eight p.m.

What could she do but agree while her heart broke? He obviously didn’t feel the same way she did. She hadn’t forgotten him, but she hadn’t shown up. He probably hadn’t either.

She parked on the town square and got out of her car. She’d never known true love, but she’d certainly learned that love must be more than casually spoken words.

Wes waited for her in front of the building and held the door open. Inside, he directed her to a room in the back with a table and several chairs around it.

Take a seat. He pulled one out, and she slipped into it. Would you like more coffee? We have cold spring water, tea. Or are you hungry?

No, nothing. I ate in Junction City on the way. I’m fine, thanks. Hope stifled her smile. Strange to see Wes acting nervous. He hadn’t been at the house. Was it his dad? He’d always gone out of his way to please Mr. Knight.

I’ll let Dad know we’re here then. He stepped out and within five minutes returned with an older, balding version of himself.

Mr. Knight stuck out his hand and shook Hope’s. How nice to see you again, Miss Ferguson. I’m afraid you had us at a disadvantage. Wes tells me you are now called Rena Wilson. We didn’t realize we’d be dealing with an old friend of the family.

His smile was warm, and his eyes twinkled as if he enjoyed the joke she’d played, even though it was unintentional.

I apologize for the misunderstanding. I’ve become so accustomed to the name change, I don’t think about it much anymore. Only every time she heard it and wished she never had to hear it again.

That’s fine. He settled across the table from her. Why don’t you tell us what you’d like to be called, and we’ll keep the legal stuff on paper. Doesn’t matter to us.

She relaxed, and it felt good. I’d prefer Hope. My name is legally Wilson, so I don’t suppose there’s much we can do about that. Maybe someday I’ll get it changed.

I will need to see some identification. Just for the record, you know. He looked at the driver’s license she handed him and nodded before handing it back. Sounds good to me, right Wes?

Hope followed his gaze to his son. A cloud seemed to have descended on Wes. Did being in the same room with his father bother him that much? Mr. Knight was a nice man.

Wes looked up with a smile that couldn’t be more fake. Sure, Hope, it is.

Good. Mr. Knight pulled some papers from his briefcase and handed a packet to Hope. This is a copy of Mrs. Grace Hogan’s Last Will and Testament. You might want to place that in a safe place such as a safety deposit box or a fireproof safe in your home. But it’s yours to keep. We’ll go over the high points now in language we can easily understand.

Hope nodded.

Basically, we’re operating on the wishes of your former neighbor, Grace Hogan, who was of sound mind and requested the distribution of her worldly goods without anyone twisting her arm or talking her into it.

Again Mr. Knight gave Hope a smile. Mrs. Hogan passed away on January 6th of this year. As you can see by the date, December 16th, when she signed this will, it was only three days before her death. That represents a change she made, requesting one small addition. She would like a scrapbook that belongs to her only living relative, a nephew, given to him. She has turned the scrapbook over to us and it is here in the office. Notice has gone out to the nephew asking him to pick it up or request it to be mailed to him. In addition she stipulated a three-month probationary period before the house is signed over to you.

Probationary period? Hope caught her breath. I don’t understand.

Wes sat leaning back in his chair. His fingers were intertwined with his chin resting on them as if he wasn’t overly interested. Hope knew better. He lived in her house. He had more interest than he let on.

Mr. Knight exchanged a look with Wes before speaking again. Yes, Mrs. Hogan felt the need to determine that her house will be well taken care of. You know, I’m sure, how fond of that place she was. It’s been a showplace as long as I can remember. There’s a list of things in your packet she wanted done annually, monthly, and weekly. She has also set aside a small amount each month to help with any costs, but you will need to maintain employment as the monthly check will not be enough to live on.

I start tomorrow at Dave’s Café as hostess/waitress. She lifted her chin, knowing her line of work didn’t compare to sitting