Dance of the Heart: Moments of the Heart, #1

By Susan Berry

 

Maggie Campbell has been running away from her past for seven years. When she finally
returns to her family's small farm for her grandmother's ninetieth birthday party, she meets the
irritatingly handsome new neighbor and dislikes him immediately. So what if he's charming? His
superior attitude and the way her family relies on him gets under her skin.

But when tragedy strikes and he's the only one who can help, the walls she's put up are tested.
Maggie has no choice but to let her guard down and accept his offer. But can she let go of her
reservations and allow her heart to trust again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Berry
• Release date: Jun 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201931865

Book preview

Chapter One

Maggie sat quietly on the passenger seat, looking out the window as the vintage Volkswagen bus rumbled down the dusty gravel road. It had been seven years since she’d last journeyed down this road, promising herself she would never return. Yet, here she was all nervous, seated next to her sister, Jilly. She contemplated asking her to turn around and take her back to the airport. What had she been thinking, agreeing to come? Why had she read Jilly’s letter in the first place? Every other time one had showed up in the mailbox during the last seven years, she simply tore it up. Why had she kept this one?

Jilly loved the nostalgia of writing letters on paper and mailing them. So many people were caught up in their electronic devices. It should be an exciting experience to get a letter in the mail, but not for Maggie.

For days, she tried to decide what to do about the letter. She drank her morning coffee and thought about the letter. She did the dishes and thought about the letter. Then, two weeks after its arrival, while eating that last piece of chocolate cake, she told herself she would not eat in the middle of the night...she tore the letter open.

The penmanship was perfect. The letter skillfully written. Jilly always had a knack for making even the most mundane details seem full of life. Halfway through the second paragraph, with the last bite of cake in her mouth, the words she feared the most were there in black and white. Her sister was insisting she come home.

The thought of going home sent chills down Maggie’s spine. Going back home meant taking the risk of losing herself again in the pain of her mother’s death. She may no longer be twelve-years-old, the day her mother went for a swim in the family lake and drowned. Or the same day, her father checked out of life, leaving Maggie and Jilly in the care of their grandmother. But the feelings about that day were just as raw anytime she thought of going back. It had taken every ounce of courage she’d had to leave her family at eighteen-years-old and not return. She had a new life. A life without emotional pain, and she planned to keep it that way, even if the letter insisted she attend her grandmother’s ninetieth birthday party.

Maggie would simply send a present in the mail and be done with it. But she knew deep down that would be easier said than done. Especially, as those pleading words Jilly had written kept playing in her head.

You have to come. Gram is so looking forward to seeing you and will be so disappointed if you don’t. You wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?

She could hear her sister's voice nagging her in her head as clearly as if she was following her around the small apartment in person.

After a week of sleepless nights and three chocolate candy bars to solidify her courage, Maggie wrote Jilly telling her she would be there for the party. Now, here she was, sitting next to her in the car and would give anything to be back in her apartment with her cat, George.

Maggie? Did you hear me? Jilly interrupted Maggie's thoughts as she turned down the radio.

Maggie turned from the window. I’m sorry, what?

I said, Gram made me promise to call her the minute I get home and let her know you’ve arrived safely. She can’t wait to see you, you know.

And I’m excited to see her too. But I’d like to settle in a bit first. I’ll call her first thing in the morning.

Or you could ring her tonight. Just a quick chat?

I’ll think about it.

Okay, I know when to stop pushing. But don’t make her wait too long. She isn’t getting any younger.

I know. Maggie grinned.

Jilly didn’t say another word about their grandmother. And to Maggie’s relief, the rest of their conversation was pleasant and only became quiet when Jilly turned the steering wheel around a sharp corner in the road and uttered the words almost home.

As they drove down the familiar tree-lined hill and past Mr. Murphy’s cow pasture, Maggie caught the first glimpse of the house she’d grown up in.

Even though it was now early fall, multicolored wildflowers were still blooming under the big oak tree in the front yard, flanked by a polished stone walkway. Maggie had helped her mother lay the stones to the walkway when she was eight it was and her favorite place to play hopscotch. The dirty old tire swing where Freddy Norman had kissed her on her ninth birthday was now missing. In its place, perched high in the branches, was a large tree house.

A little bit farther down the drive, Maggie could clearly see the mosaic table she had made as a child was still sitting on the front porch in the same spot it had for years, since the day she and her mother had finished putting the last piece of polished glass on its top. They had their first tea party on that table, and Maggie felt a lump in her throat as she remembered her mother smiling at her over her teacup.

When the station wagon reached the end of the driveway, before Maggie could ask why the mailbox was now in the shape of a shark, a little red-haired girl emerged from the front door wearing a knee-length blue-and-white polka-dot dress. Her long pigtails, tied back with blue ribbons, flopped back and forth as she ran toward them.

Momma!

Jilly stepped out of the driver’s side, picked the child up in her arms, and swung her around. The little girl’s fingers were locked tight behind Jilly’s neck, her laughter as sweet as music. After kissing her on the cheek, Jilly set the girl down, straightened her dress, and took her hand.

Maggie, now standing in the front of the station wagon, suitcase in hand, smiled at the little face dotted with dainty freckles, and the big almond-shaped, brown eyes sparkled with enchantment as they stared back at her.

Amber, I’d like you to meet your Aunt Maggie. Jilly introduced them

Amber didn’t utter a word as she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Maggie’s waist, and stayed there until Jilly gently pulled them apart.

Okay, kiddo, time to let go.

I’m very happy to meet you, Aunt Maggie. Amber looked over at her mother as if looking for confirmation she said it right.

And I’m very happy to meet you, Amber.

Momma says you can share my room with me tonight if you want to. I promise to be good. I never make a lot of noise, and I have a night light so you won’t be scared. Best of all, Momma usually lets me jump on the bed. But just once and then I have to go to sleep. Maybe if you’re good, she’ll let you jump on the bed too.

Well...since it’s your aunt's first night here, I’ll give my permission. Jilly chuckled.

It’s been a long time since I’ve jumped on a bed, so you may have to show me how it’s done.

Amber's face beamed as she grasped Maggie’s hand and pulled her towards the house until they stepped onto the porch.

Come on! she pleaded, running ahead. 

She’s been waiting for you to arrive ever since we received your letter, Jilly explained as they entered the house. And be forewarned, I think your niece plans for you two to sleep under a blanket tent on the floor tonight and dine on the chocolate chip cookies she snuck from my pantry this morning.

Yum. Maggie giggled as she set her suitcase down.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the light, they darted around the not-so-familiar room. Gone was the blue checkered couch that had been passed down from her grandmother. The new furniture, a stylish chocolate brown overstuffed sofa and loveseat was beautiful. As were the stained-glass lamps that sat atop oak tables on either end of the sofa. A matching coffee table was between the couch and the fireplace where a very large, colorful hand-painted "Welcome Home Maggie'' sign hung above. The feel of a hand grasping hers indicated to Maggie Amber was now standing beside her.

Mommy and I made the sign all by ourselves. Do you like it?

I like it very much. Especially the yellow flowers in the corner.

I painted those. Amber threw her shoulders back with pride.

How about we have some lunch, Jilly suggested Amber, please go upstairs and wash up. Then find your father and tell him we’re ready to eat.

Okay, Momma. Amber walked toward the stairs.

And use soap on those hands, young lady, Jilly called out as Amber scampered up the stairs.

If she had her way, I believe she’d be just as happy eating lunch outside in the dirt, Jilly complained as she led the way into the kitchen. 

Maggie removed her jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. She’s adorable, Jilly. And does she ever look like Martin. If it wasn’t for that red hair, she could be his twin.

I know. And she not only looks like her father, she’s as stubborn as her father too."

I’m not sure he’s the only one who gave her a stubborn gene, Maggie teased.

Is that so? Jilly tossed a dry dishrag across the kitchen table. Maggie giggled as it flew just above her head.

As usual, you missed me.

As usual, I wasn’t trying very hard. Jilly grinned.

Using the rag as a potholder, she took the lid off a large soup pot on the front burner—a very satisfied look on her face as she stirred the contents.

She then donned a pair of potholders, opened the oven door, and pulled out a baking sheet full of homemade biscuits. The sight made Maggie’s mouth water as Jilly set the biscuits on the table.

I thought you could use a home-cooked meal.

You’re such a thoughtful sister. Maggie took a biscuit.

You still can’t resist taking the first one I see. Jilly smiled. I can’t count the times you burned yourself when you were little. Mom would try to sneak them out of the oven while you weren’t looking.

She sure did fill this house with love.

She still does, Jilly said softly, taking a bite of her own biscuit. Love never tasted so good.

I’m so hungry I could eat a bear, a man’s voice called out on the other side of the kitchen doorway.

We’re not having bear, Daddy. We’re having stew, Amber informed her father as they entered.

Hello, my beautiful sister-in-law. I’m so happy to see you’ve managed to survive my wife’s driving. Oh, and I'm glad to see you made it home in one piece too, baby. Martin put his arms around Jilly and hugged her from behind, his head nestled in her neck.

Jilly had a look of irritation on her face as she wiggled free. Martin, if your driving is an example, I doubt anyone would ever get anywhere. Old Mrs. Sherman drives faster than you.

Martin winked at Maggie as if pleased with himself, pulled out a kitchen chair, and sat down.

The kitchen became alive with conversation as they ate the hearty lunch of beef stew, biscuits, and iced tea. They gossiped about their oldest neighbors, the Finley’s, finally selling the big house and small cottage on the top of the hill a few months earlier.

I was there the last day of the move, helping Mr. Finley, when the new owner stopped by. I think he said he runs a chain of restaurants or a winery or something like that he inherited from his family and will live here only part of the year. Nice enough fella even if he isn’t a farmer. Martin stood and set his empty bowl on the kitchen counter.

Well, I better get back to work. Try not to miss me too much, snuggle bunny. He kissed Jilly, then Amber, and voiced a see you later to Maggie before leaving the kitchen.

Now that he’s gone, we can finish our lunch, talking about girl stuff, Jilly said as she buttered another biscuit. So... who is your boyfriend? What does he do? You said nothing about him in your letter, which was awfully short, by the way.

I don’t have a boyfriend.

Oh... was it a rough break up?

I haven’t had a rough break up.

I don’t understand.

I’ve been single for a while.

Do you date?

Not really. I find dating more exhausting than pleasant. Besides, I have a cat. He’s excellent company and gives me all I need.

All you need? What about marriage and children?

I do not want to get married. And as far as children go, I’m not sure I am the best person to raise a child. I can barely remember to feed my cat, Maggie said jokingly.

What kind of man do you like?

The kind that don’t want to date me. Honestly, Jilly, I’m happy being single.

Come on, Maggs... who is really happy being single?

Maggie was poised to ask Jilly to leave well enough alone when she noticed Amber’s head lying on her arm, and a half-eaten biscuit in her hand.

Someone looks sleepy and not at all interested in hearing about men. Maggie chuckled.

Interested in men? Heaven forbid. I hope that day doesn’t come for quite some time. I’m looking forward to keeping her all to myself before someone else whisks her away.

Glad the conversation was no longer about her, Maggie put her hand up to her mouth, trying to conceal a yawn.

Looks like someone else could use some sleep.

I am a little tired. And it certainly doesn’t help that I had two bowls of stew and three biscuits. Maggie groaned, rubbing her tummy.

Why don’t you follow me upstairs, and when I’m done tucking Amber in for a nap, I’ll come to your room and help you unpack, Jilly suggested as she got up from the table.

Do I really have to take a nap, Momma? Amber lifted her head.

Yes, you do, my sweet. And Aunt Maggie’s going to do the same. Jilly took the biscuit from Amber's hand and motioned for her daughter to lead the way out of the kitchen.

Maggie had followed, kissed Amber’s cheek, then watched her follow her mother down the hall to her room before entering the bedroom she was to sleep in. It used to be the room she and Jilly shared. Even after she’d married Martin, Jilly kept the old set of bunk beds they’d slept in. But they were no longer there, replaced by a brass four-poster bed. A large oak hutch and a small dressing table stood in the opposite corner.

Walking over to the window, Maggie smiled to herself as she noticed that one thing had remained the same. On the windowsill, carved deep into the wood, was a big heart with Martin’s name in the middle. Jilly had secretly chiseled it when she was thirteen and made Maggie swear not to tell their mother.

I used to sit under that window for hours dreaming of the day I could marry Martin, Jilly confessed as she brought Maggie’s suitcase in the room. A valuable lesson in being careful what you wish for.

"You love him. You always