Brushstrokes and Blessings

By Danielle Thorne

A painful past can't hold her back, but she won't let herself fall in love...

 

Darcy Malone is determined to make a respectable name for herself teaching at the elementary school no matter how others treat her. When she runs headfirst into a visitor to town, she's fascinated by his upbeat smile and love of history, but the thought of him learning her past makes it easy to keep him at arms-length.

Wade Spears is researching a book in the quaint town of Blessings, Kansas. He has a big decision to make, but it's impossible to choose when it feels like something's missing from his life. He's mesmerized by the beautiful art teacher's kindness and creative energy, but there's something mysterious about the way she deflects all of his efforts to get to know her.

 

Can an artist brush over her painful past, or will she send away the man she loves to chase his dreams without her?

 

This sweet novella is a quick read with clean and wholesome romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danielle Thorne
• Release date: Aug 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9798224492398

Danielle Thorne

Danielle Thorne writes sweet southern romance and historicals from Atlanta, Georgia. Married for thirty years to the same fellow, she's the mother of four boys, four daughters-in-law and has two grandbabies. There are also cats.Danielle graduated from BYU-Idaho after studying English and Communications. Free time is filled with books, movies, yardwork and not enough road trips or beach time. She can be found on most social media platforms and loves to connect with readers.

Book preview

The Blessings of Love Series  

Brushstrokes and Blessings

by Danielle Thorne

Blessed by the Fake Boyfriend

by Lacy Anderson

Bless His Heart

by Jessica L. Elliot

Abundantly Blessed

by Rachel Eliker

Twice Blessed

by J.J. DiBennedetto

Backward Blessings

by Rachel A. Andersen

Brushstrokes and Blessings

CHAPTER ONE

The button on the vending machine rattled and hummed, but the over-caffeinated can of soda didn't roll out. Darcy Malone grabbed the sides of the machine and shook. Nothing happened because she was half the size of the money-eating monster.

Darcy looked up at the teachers' lounge ceiling and let out a heavy breath. She gave up and walked over to the water cooler to stare out the window and think about snacks. At least it was a pretty fall day outside.

The quiet of the lounge was interrupted by two chattering voices as the door swung open.

—on my side of the hall, one voice complained.

Darcy moved behind a potted palm tree and watched the last bus pull out. She pressed her forehead against the glass window and swirled a paper cup of tepid water in her hand.

She thinks she owns all of the walls outside the classrooms, agreed another. I'm so tired of looking at those leering jack-o-lanterns.

I get that she's new and everything, but she's a substitute, not a real teacher.

The cup in Darcy's hand crumpled and soaked her fingers. She held her breath and scrunched down further behind the plant as her stomach sank. She was a real teacher and a real artist, too. She'd graduated from college almost six years ago with an art degree and a teaching certificate. Her entry to this year's Kansas Life and Memories Art contest was in the mail.

I wish she'd go back to waiting tables at the diner, snorted the now familiar voice. My students return to class covered in paint and bouncing off the walls.

Oh, mine, too. We wouldn't have this problem if my niece had been hired, you know.

Darcy felt trapped. Even sneaking into the teacher's lounge after school was no escape from Tricia Darlington. The woman usually had bus duty.

I'm going to tell her she can have the space all the way to the fire extinguisher, continued the muffled voice, but the rest of the wall beyond that is mine.

Darcy took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the potted palm. She tossed her paper cup into the trash can beside Mrs. Darlington and Mrs. Gavel. They were both gray-headed, plump, and wore too many rings.

That sounds great, Darcy agreed. She smiled like she'd been a part of the conversation all along. Both women froze, one with a cup of coffee at her lips and the other with a mouthful of donut.

Darcy averted her eyes to hide the anger she felt but gave them a stiff wave as she marched out. She wanted to sling the break room door shut with a bang, but she eased it closed behind her.

Go back to waiting tables? She'd put in her time and worked hard to get through school. She'd even held two jobs last year to help Momma out while they waited for a teaching job to open up in Blessings.

Blessings, she snorted. She stomped down the hall and around the corner to her classroom. More like curses. She'd hated this town so much as a teenager she'd left it before she finished high school, but here she was again. Like it or not, she'd missed the beautiful green fields, tall trees, and quaint historic buildings on Blessings' main street, but not the people who judged her.

Living in Topeka had seemed like the answer, but after only a few years teaching in the city, she'd gone home to visit and realized how much her mother needed her.

The classroom smelled like burnt popcorn. Darcy left the door open so it could air out. Burnt popcorn may have left a bad smell, but the kids loved making popcorn art. She planned to use it for decorations during the month of November.

With a scowl, she put her hands on her hips. The room looked like a mess, and Mr. Jenkins, the warmest, kindest janitor in the whole world had asked her to make sure the chairs were on top of the desks at the end of each day. She'd forgotten to ask the last group of students to put them away.

Footsteps in the hall echoed behind her, but Darcy didn't turn around. She knew it was probably another herd of teachers complaining about the art classroom. They'd never accept her at Earhart Elementary. She was Darcy Malone after all.

A GIANT CHICKEN DARTED across the road. Wade Spears swerved to avoid hitting it. With a gasp, he caught the steering wheel in time to avoid skidding off the road and joyriding through a field of brittle corn stalks. A bright red barn stood guard in the distance, and he hoped no one was home.

With a glance in the rearview mirror, he watched the large wild bird flap away unhurt and realized it was a turkey. It'd almost become a turkey platter, and right in time for Thanksgiving. He smiled at the idea of Thanksgiving dinners past and realized he looked forward to seeing his family back in Tennessee at Christmastime.

A light on the car's dashboard blinked. Wade noted the gas gauge had dropped below the perfectly straight halfway mark. He tried not to fixate on the imperfectly crooked line the arrow made against the black background. It'd drive him crazy. He might as well fill up now rather than risk running out later.

Through the windshield, the closest historical town along the Santa Fe Trail seemed as green and golden as the rest of the state. The crests of the treetops looked like they'd been dipped in flaming orange paint, so he shifted his attention to the natural beauty around him that was perfectly imperfect and yet something he could appreciate.

He slowed as he approached a town limit sign: Welcome to Blessings, Kansas. This was the place. He glanced at the gas gauge again then at the address for The Beautiful Blessings Bed and Breakfast printed out on the itinerary beside him.

It sounded charming, but he wouldn't get his hopes up. His last stop had been a seedy motel endured for the low cost and good location. Luckily, it'd only been for one night, because the room smelled like stale smoke, and there was a ring around the tub. He'd showered in flip flops.

The highway narrowed, and his GPS informed him there was a gas station ahead. Wade squinted. It wasn't his usual chain. It looked like a mom and pop place instead, but at least the price was fair. He pulled in and headed for the closest gas pump. A blue two-door hatchback careened forward from the opposite direction and screeched into his spot. Wade swerved and slammed his brakes to avoid a head-on accident. Again.

Geez! Wade squeezed the steering wheel and caught his breath. He waved a hand in irritation, but the driver didn't seem to notice. She jumped out of the car with her face hidden behind enormous sunglasses and darted inside. He cruised around her vehicle to another pump.

A sign told him he'd have to pay upfront first, so he turned off the engine and headed inside for a soda. He wanted to stretch his legs anyway. It'd been a great drive. The sun was warm but the air felt cool, so he didn't need a jacket. It reminded him of autumn in Tennessee. His brother, Grant, had been right. He just needed a break and a fresh perspective. Taking a permanent job as a history professor would be life-changing.

Jangling bells announced his presence so he gave the station cashier a little wave. A row of glass doors in the back looked like the place to find a refrigerated drink. He trudged through the candy bar aisle resisting the urge to fill up on sugar. A young woman stood in front of the flavored waters with hands on her hips. She held a big pair of sunglasses in her hand.

Dale Earnhardt, he murmured, half-amused. She looked pretty. Definitely a Midwest farmer's daughter, but with a city-girl air about her. Classic and country. If she noticed he was waiting for her to make a decision she didn't show it. Her eyes scanned each row as she rocked forward on her toes.

He was running out of steam. It'd been a long day. Do you mind? Wade cleared his throat, and she looked sideways at him.

A dead-pan stare said she did mind, but he slipped past her, pulled open the door, and grabbed a watermelon-flavored sparkling water. Excuse me, he added in the awkward silence.

Her response was a cold nothing. He glanced back as he brushed past her and noticed her clothes were splattered with orange and green paint.

Wow, he said before he could stop himself.

Cool, olive-brown eyes widened with offense.

I mean, he chuckled, it looks like you lost the paintball fight.

The woman's features softened, and she dropped her fist from her hip. Art teacher, she replied, and he gave a nod although his heart melted a little. That explains it.

And I never lose at paintball. A small dimple in her cheek made him realize she was teasing.

I'll have to watch out for you then.

She let out a small laugh with a whoosh of air. Oh, do you play often?

He tried not to smile and shook his head. No, never. I don't like to get messy, but if I ever do, I'll stay on the lookout.

She chuckled and looked away. He made his feet move so he didn't stand there like an idiot admiring her hourglass figure and dusty-tan complexion. She was local no doubt and in a hurry to get home. Maybe she'd had a rough day, too.

After paying, he left to pump the gas. The art teacher came out a few minutes later with a bag of chips and an apple in her hand. She held them up as she walked past him. Dinner, she joked, and he nodded.

On a whim, he put his hands in his pockets and watched her walk around the back of her car. So, where would one get dinner around here?

In Blessings?

He nodded. Yeah, Blessings. Nice name. Do you live here?

The