Matt indicated the pin. “You’re a survivor, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Hannah said, always finding it easy to smile with the thrill that she was in remission now. “But I also lost my mother to breast cancer, like Autumn. So I know how much it hurts.”

Matt tilted his head, curiosity at Autumn’s awareness still evident on his face. “Well, for some reason, she was drawn to you.”

Hannah felt flattered … and honored. She remembered her silent prayer, asking God to let her help this little girl. He’d undoubtedly granted her request. “Maybe because I’m meant to help her?”

That made him smile, and Hannah couldn’t deny the impact that his smile had on her heart. He was so genuine, so honest and so concerned with his daughter.

“I know this will sound a little odd,” Matt said, “but I think maybe you’re right. Maybe the reason I picked this town, the reason Autumn and I are here is … because of you.”

Dear Reader,

Current statistics show one in every eight women in the United States will develop breast cancer over the course of her lifetime. By telling Hannah’s story, I tried my best to cover the way she held on to her faith for both the good and the bad news she received from having the disease. Battling trials brings us closer to God, but some choose to turn away from God in times of struggle. I hope that Healing Autumn’s Heart may cause someone who has turned away in times of struggle to reconsider their faith and hopefully find their way back to our Savior.

I enjoy mixing facts and fiction in my novels, and you’ll learn about some of the truths hidden within the story on my website, www.reneeandrews.com. You can enter a contest on my website to win a pair of Toms shoes similar to the ones worn by Hannah in the book. I am very impressed with this company and the fact that they donate a pair of shoes to a child in need for every pair purchased.

Additionally, my website includes alternate scenes for some of my novels and deleted scenes that didn’t make the final cut. If you have prayer requests, there’s a place to let me know on my site. I will lift your request up to the Lord in prayer. I love to hear from readers, so please write to me at renee@reneeandrews.com.

Blessings in Christ,

Renee Andrews

About the Author

RENEE ANDREWS spends a lot of time in the gym. No, she isn’t working out. Her husband, a former All-American gymnast, co-owns ACE Cheer Company, an all-star cheerleading company. She is thankful the talented kids at the gym don’t have a problem when she brings her laptop and writes while they sweat. When she isn’t writing, she’s typically traveling with her husband, bragging about their two sons or spoiling their bulldog.

Renee is a kidney donor and actively supports organ donation. She welcomes prayer requests and loves to hear from readers! Write to her at Renee@ReneeAndrews.com or visit her website at www.reneeandrews.com. Check her out on Facebook and Twitter as well.

Healing

Autumn’s Heart

Renee Andrews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This novel is dedicated to my husband,

J.R. Zeringue, and my boys, Rene and Kaleb Zeringue.

“A happy family is but an earlier heaven.”

—George Bernard Shaw

The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble.

He cares for those who trust in Him.

—Nahum 1:7

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Special thanks to breast cancer survivor Doris Green

Zeringue, my wonderful sister-in-law,

for sharing her diary, her knowledge and her heart.

All mistakes are mine.

Chapter One

Matt Graham had to walk with a slight lean to hold Autumn’s small hand as they exited Nelson’s Variety Store. He’d hoped that the uniqueness of the old-fashioned five-and-dime with its soda jerk counter, malt machine and 1950s charm would appeal to his six-year-old daughter and maybe even result in a smile. Or, if he could be so lucky, more than a single word.

He glanced down and admired the shiny miniature black and white tiles displaying the store’s name on the concrete in front of the building. The letters were block-style and reminded him of Autumn’s homework from last night. Her first-grade class had been learning about a different letter of the alphabet each week since school started, and this week’s letter was E. For each of the last four weeks, while she studied A, B, C and then D, he tried to bring her homework into their daily conversations, or rather his daily conversations, since most of their discussions were entirely one-sided. It was merely another attempt to converse with his daughter. So far, he hadn’t had much success, but maybe this week would be different.

God, let me break through her wall somehow. And please, God, let it be soon.

Matt sighed, wondering why he still found himself praying at all. He supposed it was more habit than anything else. Because he’d prayed continuously two years ago, and it hadn’t saved Rebecca.

He looked back at the tiles and hoped God had decided to give him a little help this week with his daughter. Heaven knew he needed all the help he could get.

“Look, Autumn, that says Nelson’s. And it has an E right there—” he pointed to the letter “—just like the ones you were writing on your paper last night.”

Her soft brown curls brushed against his arm as her head tilted to look at the tiles.

Matt paused, waited, hoped.

After a couple of beats, he prompted, “Maybe we could buy some tiles or blocks from the toy store and you could make your letters the way that they did to spell the name of their store. We could put them on the coffee table in the playroom or on the kitchen table, if you like.” He smiled. “I think it’d be fun to make letters that way, don’t you?”

Brown doe eyes, his precious Rebecca’s eyes, looked back at him, and the sadness filling their depths pierced his soul.

Matt’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest. She looked so much like her mother. He forced what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “What do you think? Does that sound fun?”

She blinked, looked back at the tiles and whispered, “Maybe.”

Matt swallowed, nodded and started down the sidewalk toward Tiny Tots Treasure Box, the toy store located on the other side of the town square. He tried to feel positive about the fact that at least she held his hand. There was some form of connection left between them if she’d still do that, or that’s what the last psychologist they visited in Atlanta had said. But Matt didn’t want a “connection” with the one person he cared for more than any other.

He wanted a bond.

Moving to the tiny community of Claremont, Alabama, had been his last-ditch effort at making that happen. Away from Atlanta, away from his research, and away from the home that held way too many sad memories and not nearly enough happy ones.

The quaint country town nestled amid the foothills of Lookout Mountain had “friendly and inviting” written all over it, right down to the town square, where he’d brought Autumn today after school. But they’d been here two months and she was still trapped inside the protective cocoon she’d created when Rebecca died.

A six-year-old shouldn’t know what it’s like to lose her mommy. He sighed and realized that a thirty-year-old shouldn’t know what it’s like to lose his wife, especially when the one person who could have potentially saved her was … Matt.

They continued down the sidewalk, and Matt took in the town’s charm, from the splashing tiered fountain that centered the square to the colorful planters filled with cascading flowers hanging from wrought iron lampposts along the street. Resident geese gathered near the fountain and squawked loudly as they awaited bits of bread from a gray-haired man sitting on a bench nearby.

Matt inhaled, and the air still held the faint scents of summer, but the gentle coolness of fall. Several couples window-shopped hand in hand, and Matt easily recalled when he and Rebecca would have done the same thing on a beautiful day like this, enjoying the comfortable weather of late September by spending the afternoon outside. They’d never lived in a small town since his research kept them in Atlanta, but she would have liked Claremont. She would have taken great pleasure in sharing this picturesque town square with Matt and Autumn. If Rebecca were here, she’d be laughing, no doubt. She had loved to laugh. He imagined her mocking the squawking geese and coaxing Autumn into doing the same.

Matt glanced at the geese, their black mouths stretching wide as they encouraged the old man to toss more bread, then he looked down at Autumn to see what she thought of the noisy birds. Her head was down, her attention focused on the sidewalk beneath her feet. Matt didn’t even attempt to mimic the birds. It wouldn’t come across the same way it would have if Rebecca did it, and it really wasn’t the type of thing he’d ever done with his little girl. He was always the serious one and Mommy the funny one, until Rebecca became so sick that she stopped laughing at all. Matt tried to recall the last time he heard Autumn laugh.

He couldn’t.

Obviously he’d have to settle for small steps toward connecting with his daughter. Today she held his hand. He supposed that would have to do.

A few people said hello as he and Autumn met them along the square. Matt made sure to nod, smile and return the greeting. He was the new doctor in town, after all, and even though he was still learning the families that were the backbone of Claremont, he realized that most of the small town knew who he was, which was evident when he and Autumn met an elderly woman standing outside of the square’s barbershop.

“Well, hello, Dr. Graham. It’s good to see you again,” she said, then turned her attention away from Matt and to his daughter. “And how are you today, Autumn?”

Matt racked his brain but couldn’t place the lady. She hadn’t been in to his office, he was sure of that. He made a point of remembering each patient’s name. “Knowing someone’s name lets them know you really care, not only about their health, but also about them as a person,” Rebecca had often reminded him, and Matt had agreed. But even though this lady wasn’t a patient, her face looked vaguely familiar.

“Are you having a good time with your dad?” the woman continued, and Matt realized she was waiting for some type of response from his daughter.

He gently squeezed Autumn’s hand and hoped it was enough encouragement that she would say something. Anything.

Autumn nodded, and Matt figured he should be thankful that she responded in some manner. Even though school had only been in session for a month, her teacher had already called him in twice to discuss her lack of communication skills, and Matt had assured the lady that Autumn was still coping with losing her mom and that she’d be better soon.

He’d been telling himself the same thing for two years.

“How did you like the book you checked out this week?” the woman asked. “You got a Curious George one, didn’t you?”

Autumn nodded, and Matt’s mind clicked into gear with the memory of this woman—Mrs. Ivey, he now recalled—showing off Claremont Elementary’s updated library at the school’s orientation night.

“Her grandmother has been reading it to her each night before she goes to bed,” Matt said, and smiled, picturing Maura sitting beside Autumn in the bed and telling her all about the adorable monkey and the man with a yellow hat.

Matt’s mother-in-law had been grateful to him for asking her to move with them to Claremont. She’d wanted to be a part of her granddaughter’s life and was more than happy to take care of Autumn each afternoon until Matt got home from work.

“Well, we have plenty of Curious George books in the library,” Mrs. Ivey said, “so if you want, you can check out another one next week when your class has their library day. Okay?”

Another nod from Autumn, and Matt didn’t miss the way Mrs. Ivey’s mouth flattened at the solemn gesture and then the undeniable look of pity that she reflected toward his precious little girl.

Thankfully Mr. Ivey chose that moment to exit the barbershop and join his wife. Her attention taken off of Autumn, the librarian introduced her husband, told Autumn she would see her at school and then the couple continued down the street.

“She’s a nice lady,” Matt said. “And she even remembered which book you checked out. That’s pretty special, don’t you think?”

He took a few steps then heard Autumn whisper, “Yes.”

Yes. One of four words he’d heard out of his daughter’s mouth since Rebecca died. Yes. No. Okay. Maybe. Nothing more, nothing less.

Matt didn’t know what else to do, didn’t know what else to say. The disconnect between himself and his little girl, between everyone and his little girl, was so intense that he was starting to think it’d be easier for him to perform surgery blindfolded than to get her to open up, which was why he thought he was imagining things when she stopped walking, pointed to the toy store and said her first full sentence in two years.

Her words were softly spoken, so quiet that Matt couldn’t make them all out at first. So he asked, “What, honey? What did you say?”

Autumn didn’t answer, but her brown eyes widened, and she moved closer to the toy shop’s window, where Matt now noticed a woman assembling a complex display of several miniature houses.

Apparently realizing that she had visitors, she finished placing a tiny barbershop pole outside one of the buildings then turned, looked at Matt and Autumn, and gave them a full smile.

Beautiful. The first word that came to mind at the image in the window. Her face radiated happiness, confidence, and a mesmerizing beauty that rendered Matt quite speechless. With dark eyes, high cheekbones and full lips, she had an exotic appeal, in spite of her traditional attire. She wore a pink T-shirt, cuffed blue jeans and sparkly silver ballet slippers. Her brown hair was short, with the edge of wispy curls barely touching her collar, and her bangs were pulled to the side and pinned back with a bright pink jeweled barrette. Still smiling, she motioned toward Autumn and crooked her finger, inviting them to come inside.

To Matt’s shock, Autumn tugged on his hand, looked up at him and smiled. She really smiled. Then his dear little girl repeated the same words Matt thought she’d said earlier, only he heard them clearly this time.

“She’s like Mommy.”

Hannah Taylor felt like a kid in a candy store, or maybe a kid in a toy store, since that’s exactly where her work had taken her for the past week. She had been over the moon when Mr. Feazell approved her window display for the Tiny Tots Treasure Box. Recreating Claremont’s town square with dollhouses had definitely been one of her biggest challenges as a window dresser, but she’d risen to the occasion, and the toy shop’s owner was thrilled with the interest the display was already getting from the community.

Plus, the fact that he’d sold six of his most elaborate dollhouse kits since she began the display last Monday didn’t hurt his enthusiasm. And today, even though it was the middle of the week, the town square had been filled with people eager to enjoy this beautiful weather. Naturally, they all window-shopped, which meant they all noticed Hannah’s displays at each store.

She grinned. Who would have thought that she could make a career out of designing the windows in the Claremont square? No, she wasn’t exactly using her interior design degree to its fullest potential, but she hadn’t really gotten that degree for a job anyway. She’d gotten it because her mother had asked her to, and at that point in time, she’d have promised her mom anything. Anything at all. And she was designing, even if that meant decorating single windows instead of entire houses.

Hannah still had one more promise to keep for her mom, and she had no doubt that she would. Eventually. God had been too good to her to let that other part of her mother’s last wish fall through the cracks. Besides, that had been one of her own dreams, too, that she would find the man God had made just for her and that they’d live a long, happy and hopefully healthy life together.

Please, God, let it be a healthy life.

She rocked back on her heels and eyed the town square coming to life before her in intricate dollhouse form. It was a bit difficult working on the houses at floor-level, but she’d placed the display low because she knew who her real audience was—the children of Claremont. There would be lots of kids at the First Friday celebration next week and they would undoubtedly be captivated by seeing the center of their town brought to life in the toy store’s window.

Hannah still had a good deal to accomplish before the monthly festivities, but everything was coming together fairly well, and she truly believed that she’d make good on her promise to Mr. Feazell that his window would be one of the favorites at October’s First Friday event.

Today she’d added Mr. Crowe’s Barber Shop to the group of buildings already complete. Hannah knew his portion of the square was extra special to the locals. For the past sixty years, practically every little boy in Claremont got his first haircut in Mr. Crowe’s chair.

Many of the retired men in town were actually younger than Mr. Crowe and remembered when the eighty-two-year-old first opened the shop way back in 1951. Back then they were excited about the swirling barber pole and the friendly young man who ran the place. Now they all hung out there for more than the customary cut, shave and hot towel that the sweet old man provided. They gathered there for the camaraderie, for the memories of days gone by and for a glimpse of the future, as the next generation brought their little guys in to crawl up on the big black chair, sit on the cracked leather booster seat and create a memory.

Hannah smiled, enjoying the fact that she could bring the town she loved to life in the display. Every store had a story, and she hoped that the exhibit encouraged some of the folks around town to share those stories.

That had been her goal, the primary selling point that she’d used when she convinced Mr. Feazell to go with the rather elaborate, detailed display. She’d told him that this wasn’t merely an exhibit; it was a collaboration of Claremont memories. Hannah’s life had taught her how important family and friends were, how important your hometown was, and how extremely important memories could be. This display brought all of that together.

She had recognized most of the people who’d stopped to view the scene today, which was to be expected, since Claremont was fairly small and most everyone knew everybody in town. In fact, merely a half hour ago, Mrs. Ivey, the librarian from the elementary school, stopped by with her husband. They’d come inside the toy store so they could get a better look at Hannah’s interpretation of Mr. Crowe’s shop. Mr. Ivey had marveled at the tiny black barber chair and laughed when he noticed the abundance of miniature newspapers and magazines scattered around the customer chairs. He’d been surprised to see that Hannah had even included a mini shaving brush with the barber tools on the counter and that it appeared to be covered in white foamy cream.

“Look at the window,” Mrs. Ivey said, pointing.

Hannah had taken a fine-tipped paint brush and written Crowe’s Barber Shop on the small rectangular window in bright white craft paint. She’d taken the time to walk down to the shop, copy the cursive style of the writing on the actual window and then mimic that font on her dollhouse replica. The little details were what made a scene special, and Hannah loved adding those unique tidbits to the display.

“Isn’t it amazing that you can get that kind of detail in a dollhouse?” Mr. Ivey had said.

Hannah and Mr. Feazell, who made sure to visit with each person that came in to see the display, both agreed.

Mr. and Mrs. Ivey’s admiration cemented the fact that the scene had the impact Hannah desired on folks that viewed the tiny town. In fact, the two of them recalled the day Mr. Crowe opened his barbershop sixty years ago, when they were merely dating teenagers, accomplishing her personal goal of stirring up memories. She hadn’t missed the way Mr. Ivey wrapped an arm around his wife and squeezed her tenderly at that shared memory.

Hannah sighed. One day she’d have someone look at her that way, hold her close like that. She’d make memories with a man that she loved, memories that they could share for a lifetime. In other words, she’d have exactly what her mother had wished for on the day she died.

Have mercy, she couldn’t wait. God, if it be Your will, don’t make me wait too long.

Hannah was still imagining that day, that man, when she had the strong sensation that she was being watched. That was the thing about working in windows. She was on display, too.

Turning, she found a beautiful little girl, her long brown curls pulled up in two pigtails and her dark eyes sparkling as she gazed toward the window. Pulling on the hand of her father, she edged closer. Hannah smiled at her reaction and was instantly proud that her display had caused such palpable enthusiasm in this child.

The little girl pointed at Hannah and said something to her father, who seemed genuinely mesmerized by his daughter. He was totally absorbed by her every word, as though there was nothing more important in the world than what she had to say.

Hannah’s heart tugged at the scene. She crooked her finger and motioned for them to come inside and see the display, not only because she wanted the little girl to have a better view, but also because she wanted to get a firsthand look at the closeness these two shared.

A pang shot to Hannah’s heart as they made their way around the side of the window and through the toy store’s front door. When Hannah was about that little girl’s age, she had spent afternoons at the square with her father. Daddy-daughter days, that’s what he’d called it back then. She’d also had her mommy-and-me days with her mom, and then the entire family would have family fun days, which included Hannah’s older sister Jana. Daddy-daughter, mommy-and-me and family fun days had consumed Hannah’s existence as a child.

When she was thirteen all of that changed, and their family had never been the same.

She blinked a couple of times, sniffed back the emotion that occasionally pressed its way to the surface with old memories, and found another smile for them as they passed through the curtain separating the display window from the rest of the store.

“Hi,” Hannah said, primarily to the little girl, since she was still on her knees and the girl was eye level. “What’s your name?”

She was even prettier than Hannah had realized, her dark eyes framed with a bounty of even darker lashes and her skin as smooth as the porcelain dolls in the toy store’s wooden curios.

She gave Hannah a shy smile then stepped forward. “I’m Autumn.”

Hannah heard her father’s deep inhalation and glanced up to see the man staring at the two of them. His face was filled with something close to awe, and Hannah wondered why he was so affected by her interaction with his little girl. Evidently he realized that Hannah noticed his reaction and that her attention was now on him.

“I’m Matt Graham,” he said, and a light chuckle found its way into his words. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m just—” he visibly swallowed “—very happy right now.” He cleared his throat, shook his head then ran a hand through black wavy hair. “I’m sure that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Autumn hasn’t smiled—” another clearing of his throat “—hasn’t been this happy in quite a while, and I can’t tell you what this means.”

Matt Graham. She’d heard the name recently, but couldn’t place it. However, it wasn’t his name that held her interest. It was his statement. His little girl—Autumn—hadn’t been happy in quite a while. She seemed happy now, beaming at Hannah.

“Well, Autumn, do you like the dollhouses?” Hannah asked.

The little girl opened her mouth, then closed it and smiled again. And Hannah realized that she’d barely noticed the dollhouses since entering the display area. Instead, she seemed more interested in … Hannah.

Hannah glanced up at Autumn’s father and found herself drawn to the easy smile he had for his daughter, to the sky-blue eyes bordered with thick black lashes, and to the fact that those eyes glistened with emotion for his little girl. He was a striking man, not only in appearance but in the unharnessed emotion that seemed to shine from his very soul.

She silently told herself to get a grip. He was this little girl’s father, a lady’s husband, and Hannah had no right to notice his eyes, or his smile, or the way that his love for his little girl made her own heart flutter. One day, she’d have a husband and a child, and her husband would look at their son or daughter that way, the way he looked at his daughter now.

“Autumn? Do you like the dollhouses?” he asked, in an obvious effort to get her to respond to Hannah’s question.

“Yes,” she whispered, but again, she didn’t look at the houses. And her next words didn’t have anything to do with them at all. “You’re like Mommy.” Her dark eyes grew wider, and she moved closer to Hannah. Then she reached out and gently, with a feather-soft touch, as though she didn’t know whether Hannah was real, pressed small fingers against Hannah’s cheek. “You’re like her.”

Hannah didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The child was so embraced in the moment that she didn’t dare break the connection.

Then Autumn’s mouth quivered, and she blinked. “I miss her. I miss her every day.”

Hannah looked up to the man who stood grounded to the spot and whose eyes were definitely wet now. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. And Hannah didn’t need him to. She’d been around that look of sadness enough to know. Autumn, this precious little girl with eyes that appeared as though they’d seen a lifetime worth of sorrow, had already lost her mother.

Hannah fought for composure and attempted to keep her own feelings at bay, since her mind immediately catapulted to that day twelve years ago when she told her own mother goodbye for the last time. This little girl was so young. Hannah had been thirteen and still struggled each day to understand why her mother was gone. Autumn appeared to be five or six, about the same age as the children Hannah taught in her class at church.

God, please help her. And help me to help her. I know how much it hurts to lose a mom.

Autumn’s palm was still on Hannah’s cheek when Mr. Feazell drew back the curtain and announced, “Hannah, guess what? I found some!”

The little girl dropped her hand, and Hannah took a deep breath, the intense moment broken.

“Oh, hi,” Mr. Feazell said to the pair. “I didn’t hear the bell, didn’t realize we had people checking out the display. How do you like it?”

Matt Graham nodded to the toy store owner, but only took his eyes away from Hannah and Autumn for the slightest second before looking back at them and answering, “It’s amazing.”

Hannah had no doubt that he wasn’t talking about the dollhouse display.

“I know,” Mr. Feazell said, completely unaware of the dual conversation taking place. “Hannah ran the idea by me, and I thought it’d be good, but I had no idea …” He shook his head. “It’s uncanny how much it looks like the real square, isn’t it? Hannah has a knack at really touching the heart of things, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” Matt Graham answered.

Again, Hannah knew for certain that he wasn’t talking about the dollhouses. And she had touched the heart of something here, but she didn’t quite know what. All she knew was that this little girl had been sad, but now she seemed happy.

And as a result, so did the compelling man standing before her.

“Well, Hannah, I finally found these. They’ll make it even more authentic for sure.” Mr. Feazell stretched out his hand to display a palm filled with tiny geese.

Hoping to ease the tension in the room, Hannah gave Autumn a soft smile, then reached for the gaggle of geese in Mr. Feazell’s hand. “They look perfect.”

“I thought they’d be a nice touch since, you know, those geese are always hanging around. Hey, maybe you can even put some folks on benches around a fountain and maybe have some bread on the ground in front of the birds. Now that would be realistic, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would,” Hannah agreed.

Mr. Feazell tilted his head and curled his lower lip in as he studied the little girl’s father. “You look familiar,” he said, tapping his chin, “but you’re not from Claremont, are you?” Then, before he could answer, Mr. Feazell snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. I remember. You’re the new doctor in town, aren’t ya? Over at the General Physicians Building, right?”

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Matt Graham.”

Hannah now knew why his name had sounded familiar. She’d read the article in the paper about the new doctor in town and had been happy to learn that Claremont had a physician with “big city experience,” as the paper had defined it, since he’d previously practiced medicine in Atlanta. She’d also been surprised at how young he’d looked, and how undeniably handsome. She’d seen her share of doctors over the years and none of them had looked anything like Matt Graham.

“Ted Feazell,” Mr. Feazell said, shaking his hand. “I own the Tiny Tots Treasure Box.”

“You have a nice store here.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Feazell answered. “Hey, I hear you’re doing a good job over there at the center. I saw the write-up in the paper. Come from Atlanta, right?”

Obviously, Hannah wasn’t the only one impressed that an experienced doctor had moved to town.

“Yes.” He didn’t offer anything more than that, and Mr. Feazell didn’t press the issue.

“Well, we’re glad you found your way to our little neck of the woods. Claremont is small, that’s for sure, but it’s got everything you need.”

Matt Graham nodded and glanced at Autumn, now tenderly touching one of the geese in Hannah’s hand. “I’m glad we found our way here, too.” He smiled. “Very glad.”

Hannah’s skin tingled with his smile, and she wondered what had really brought Matt Graham—Dr. Graham—and his little girl to Claremont. Surely a doctor from Atlanta would know that there wouldn’t be nearly as many patients in a town as small as Claremont.

But more than wondering why the new doctor had come to town, Hannah also wondered how long it had been since he lost his wife and since Autumn had been without her mother. She had said that Hannah was “like Mommy.” What did that mean? Did Hannah favor her mother? And if she did, would it really be smart for Hannah to try to help her? What if she got confused and actually thought that Hannah was her mother? And if Hannah did favor Autumn’s mother, then didn’t that mean that she also favored Matt Graham’s wife?

She glanced at him, still looking directly at her with those sky-blue eyes, dark black lashes, mesmerizing smile. She’d been with her sister that day, when the article had come out in the paper. Jana had pointed to the photo and playfully asked if Hannah felt a cold or cough coming on. Or any other reason for her to go visit the town’s attractive new physician.

Hannah realized she was staring, and what’s more, so was he. She jerked her attention to the geese in her hand and asked, a little too loudly, “Autumn, would you like to put them by the fountain?”

Mr. Feazell chuckled. “Hannah, maybe you’ve been working too long. I haven’t brought you the fountain yet. Remember, I wanted to try to find that three-tiered one, so it’d be like the one in the square?”

Hannah looked at the empty spot in the middle of the display where the fountain should go and felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

The old man laughed again and glanced over his shoulder. “You know, I did see another box of the miniature accessories in the middle of the store. Maybe that’s where that fountain is. Tell you what, Autumn. That’s your name isn’t it—Autumn?”

She nodded, her long curls bobbing with the action.

“Would you like to come look at all of the things we have for dollhouses and maybe help me find that fountain for the display? I bet Hannah might even let you put the geese around it, assuming we find it okay.” He grinned. “Sound good?”

Hannah knew Mr. Feazell was merely conducting business in his own way, showing off the toys that he thought would most appeal to the little girl. But Autumn smiled, and her father did too.

“Would you like to go look at the dollhouse things and try to help Mr. Feazell find that fountain?” he asked.

Autumn nodded, pressed her fingertips against Hannah’s cheek again then turned to the toy store owner. Mr. Feazell grinned and held open the curtain for her to pass through, and Matt Graham gently patted her back as they left.

“I love you, honey,” he said.

Autumn paused. She looked at him, then at Hannah, and then at her daddy again. “I love you, too.”

One hand moved to Matt Graham’s chin and stayed there as he watched Autumn walk away with Mr. Feazell.

The display area, which had seemed expansive all morning as she situated the mass of dollhouses, suddenly grew smaller as Hannah realized that she and Dr. Matt Graham were now alone.

She cleared her throat and stood, her knees popping loudly from kneeling so long. He didn’t seem to notice and appeared more intent to use this opportunity to talk to her than to comment on her noisy joints.

“Your name is Hannah?” he asked.

She was a little embarrassed at the fact that she hadn’t thought to introduce herself. “Yes, Hannah Taylor.”

He shifted the curtain aside and glanced into the store. Then he let the thin navy fabric fall back into place. “I didn’t want her to hear,” he said softly. “But I want to explain.” He breathed in, let it out. “Autumn hasn’t smiled and has barely spoken since we lost her mother. So when she smiled at you, when she spoke to you …” He pulled the curtain aside and glanced at his daughter again, then turned back to Hannah. “It was like watching a miracle. It’s been two years.”

Two years.

“Do I look like her mother?” In Hannah’s mind, that was the only reasonable answer for why the child would have come out of her shell today.

But he shook his head. “No. Rebecca had long curly red hair.” He smiled, obviously remembering his wife. “And lots of freckles.” Then his eyes seemed to be drawn to Hannah’s shirt, or more precisely, to the small pin on her left chest. “Rebecca had breast cancer.”

Hannah swallowed past the lump in her throat, and her hand instinctively moved to the pink ribbon pin. “You think she saw my pin from out there?”

“I don’t know, but somehow you reminded her of Rebecca.” He indicated the pin. “You’re a survivor, aren’t you? You’ve had breast cancer, too.” His eyes moved to her short hair, still growing back from her last round of chemo and radiation.

“I am. Actually, my sister and I are both survivors,” Hannah said, always finding it easy to smile with the thrill that they were both in remission now. “But we also lost our mother to breast cancer, like Autumn. So I know how much it hurts.”

He tilted his head, curiosity at Autumn’s awareness still evident on his face. “Well, for some reason, she was drawn to you. Whether it was the pin or not, I can’t say. But you got more words from her in the last ten minutes than three child psychologists did in two years.” He paused. “Or than I have, since her mama died.”

Hannah remembered her silent prayer, asking God to let her help this little girl. He’d undoubtedly granted her request. “Maybe because I’m meant to help her? God has His plans, you know.”

That made him smile, and Hannah couldn’t deny the impact that his smile had on her heart.

“Just now, when she told me that she loved me …” He inhaled, let it out, and seemed too overwhelmed to finish.

“She hasn’t told you that she loves you,” Hannah said, “in two years?”

He shook his head, looked as though he wanted to say more, but remained silent.

“Bless your heart,” Hannah whispered.

He stepped closer. “I know this will sound a little odd, but I think maybe you’re right. Maybe the reason I picked this town, the reason Autumn and I are here, is because of you.”

Hannah’s mind reeled with the statement. What was she supposed to do now? What was she supposed to say?

Thankfully, his laughter broke through her dilemma. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how that made you feel. It’s just that I’ve been hoping, praying for a breakthrough for so long, and then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, here you are, and Autumn speaks. And smiles. It’s … Well, I’d have to say it’s an answered prayer. And in all honesty, I haven’t prayed a lot in the past two years. Didn’t really have a reason to trust in the power of it anymore.”

Hannah found herself relaxing again. This was something she could relate to, because of her own father. “But now?” she asked, still wondering what role God planned for her to have in his daughter’s life. And, maybe, in this man’s life?

“Now I’m thinking I may need to send up a prayer of thanks,” he said, grinning.

A rush of elation filled Hannah, and she was shocked with the undeniable excitement of the request God had granted. Autumn had been silent for two years. She’d been sad and quiet, and Hannah had no doubt that her unhappiness had caused Matt Graham to be unhappy, too. But today she’d smiled.

And so did he.

Hannah made a conscious decision to try to make both of them smile again. If God had given her this gift, then she intended to use it to her fullest ability.

Mr. Feazell yanked open the navy curtain barrier and entered the display area with Autumn by his side. She walked directly to Hannah and handed her a small three-tiered fountain.

“Here,” she said, grinning with obvious enthusiasm that they’d found the perfect fountain. And it did look exactly like the one that centered two large oak trees in the town square.

“Thank you,” Hannah said, then she motioned to the square gray area in the center of the display. “Can you place it in the middle there? Then you can put the geese around it, like they are in the square.”

“Okay.” Autumn concentrated on putting the fountain in the right spot, while Mr. Feazell moved between Hannah and Matt.

“Well, that’s good,” he said softly, watching Autumn situate the geese around the tiny fountain.

“The fountain?” Hannah asked.

“No, her talking,” he said. “She never said a word while we were back there searching through all of that stuff, and I wasn’t sure she could hear me there for a second. Glad she’s okay.” The bell sounded on the front door. “Hey, more customers,” he said excitedly then darted back through the curtain.

Hannah watched Matt Graham’s eyes soften toward his daughter before he looked back at Hannah. “She’s only talking around you,” he mouthed, and Hannah feared he was right.

Now she understood that God had done more than merely grant her request. He’d given her a challenge, and she nodded, determined not to let Him—or Matt Graham—down.

“Autumn, I have a lot to do if I’m going to finish this display before the First Friday celebration next week,” Hannah said. “Do you think you could come here each afternoon after school and help me out, if it’s okay with your daddy? I could sure use your help.”

Matt nodded his approval at this suggestion.

“And you can come anytime you want tomorrow,” Hannah added, “since it’s Saturday. I’ll be here most of the day.”

Autumn’s smile claimed her face. “Can I, Daddy? Please?”

“I believe that could be arranged,” he said. “If Ms. Taylor is sure that we won’t be in her way.”

“Hannah. You can call me Hannah, Dr. Graham.”

“I’d like that,” he said, “but only if you call me Matt.”

“Okay,” she said, unable to hold back a grin. “Matt. And no, you won’t be in my way at all.”

“Then I’d love to bring Autumn to help.”

Autumn stood and wrapped her arms around his legs. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He scooped her up and held her close, kissed the side of her head and looked directly at Hannah. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes said it all. Dr. Graham—Matt—was getting his little girl back, because of Hannah. And because God had granted her request, an opportunity to help Autumn. “Thank you, Hannah,” he said. “You have no idea how much this means to her, and to me.”

Hannah’s heart hummed with excitement as the two left the display area. She looked at the new world she’d created with the array of dollhouses and thought about Autumn’s world, and how it’d become a little bit brighter today after her visit to the toy store. After her visit with Hannah. Hannah had made her smile. And she’d made Matt Graham, the handsome doctor, loving daddy and undeniably intriguing man smile, too.

Thank you, God.

Chapter Two

“It just doesn’t seem right, that they’d make you wait through the weekend. I never understood that. Those doctors did it that way with your mother, and I told them back then how frustrating it was, but they still did it, and now they’re doing it again with Jana and with you. I guess they do it to everybody. But it isn’t right to leave people hanging like that.” Bo Taylor sat on the cushioned visitor bench in the display area while Hannah gathered the craft paints she’d need for the next dollhouse, the town square’s candy shop.

“Daddy, sometimes it takes several days for the labs to complete the test results. And if my appointment is near the weekend, they can’t help it that the testing isn’t done before the end of their workweek. I’m sure the doctor will call Monday or Tuesday.” She eyed the candy store dollhouse then glanced out the toy store’s window to see the real Sweet Stop Candy Shop across the square. Her replica still needed an awning, patio tables outside and candy displays inside, but she should get all of that taken care of today with Autumn and Matt Graham’s help. Hannah couldn’t wait for them to arrive. She’d been looking forward to seeing the little girl all morning. And truthfully, she also looked forward to seeing Matt Graham. In fact, she hadn’t stopped thinking about the handsome doctor since he left yesterday.

“Hannah? Did you hear me?” Her father gave her a frown and lifted one dark brow, a look that said he’d been waiting for her response, and of course, she’d been so absorbed in thinking about Matt and Autumn Graham that she hadn’t heard the question.

“What did you say, Daddy?”

“I said I simply can’t stop worrying about you and your sister, and these doctors don’t make it any better by making us wait when you get those tests done every three months.”

“Well, after this set of screenings, I’ll have been a year in remission,” Hannah happily reminded, “then I’ll only get tested every six months, so you won’t have to worry so often. And Jana only gets hers done annually now. If I keep getting clear results, I’ll eventually move to that category, too.” She grinned. “Hey, maybe then we can set up our tests on the same day, and you’ll only have to worry once a year.” She laughed.

He didn’t. “You just wait until you have kids one day. You’ll see how easy it is not to worry,” he said, pointing a finger at her and squinting one eye to punctuate the statement. “You’ll see, when you have kids.”

Hannah instantly remembered Autumn’s hand against her cheek and recalled the warmth that spread through her at that sweet child’s touch. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He smiled. “Yeah, well, kids make it worth the worry. And we’ll have another little one soon, won’t we? With Jana’s baby, I mean. I was so worried when she told us she was having a baby, but I admit I can’t wait for that little girl to get here. Thank goodness her pregnancy has gone well … so far.”

Hannah put down the paints, turned toward him and rested a hand on his knee. Her mother, Dee, had been the worrier in the family. After she passed away, Bo Taylor had taken over the role. “Daddy, Jana’s baby will be here any day. The doctor says that little Dee is healthy and that Jana is doing great, so there’s nothing to worry about there either.”

“I know,” he said, looking a little guilty for always being so troubled, “but I’ll breathe a little easier when that little angel is here, safe and sound.”

Hannah hated it that her father had such a hard time finding peace of mind. It would be so much easier if he’d somehow find a little of the faith he’d lost when her mother died. Hannah thought of Matt Graham and his words from yesterday.

“In all honesty, I haven’t prayed a lot in the past two years. Didn’t really have a reason to trust in the power of it anymore.”

She’d understood what he meant, because she’d watched it firsthand with her father. If he’d turn his worries over to God, he’d be a lot happier, a lot calmer. She’d tried time and time again over the past twelve years to get him back in church, to help him find a relationship with God again. That was what he needed more than anything, and Hannah wasn’t ready to stop trying to help him yet.

“Daddy, why don’t you come to church tomorrow? We’re having the annual fall fellowship on the grounds after the morning service.” She squeezed his knee. “It’d be good for you.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know, Hannah.”

“Think about it,” she said, “for me, and for Jana and the new baby. You know we’ll all be attending church every week, me, Jana, Mitch and baby Dee. You know you’ll want to sit beside all of us on the pew every Sunday.”

He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half grin. “You aren’t ever going to give up on getting me there, are you?”

“Don’t plan on it.”

The other side of his mouth joined in and he gave her a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Hannah turned toward the candy store dollhouse, picked up the red-and-white-striped awning she’d found for the entrance and ran a bead of craft glue along the top. Then she placed it above the shop’s entrance and held it to bond. She glanced at her father and saw that he’d leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and set his mouth in a tight, firm line. She assumed he was trying to decide what to do about church. Hannah thought he’d come close to returning to God a few times over the past decade, but something always held him back. Maybe a new baby in the family and thoughts of the future would prompt him to return.

God, help him come back to church. Help him come back to You.

She reached for a paintbrush to put the store’s name on the redbrick building and then heard her father’s deep sigh. Placing the brush back in the glass cup, she sat back on her knees to look at him.

He was forty-nine now, his hair still dark for the most part, with a patch of silver at each temple and a bit sprinkled above his ears. His build was that of a man who jogged daily, because that was one of his rituals since Hannah’s mother had passed, running several miles each morning to relieve the stress. He had a healthy tan and was dressed neatly in a pale blue button-down shirt, jeans and the same style of light tan work boots that he’d worn as long as she could remember.

By all appearances, her father was a nice-looking man with Richard Gere appeal who should be enjoying life to the fullest. Except for the fact that he’d become a widower at thirty-seven and had to raise two daughters that were merely thirteen and fifteen at the time, and who both eventually ended up with the very disease that had taken his wife.

When he opened his eyes, their dark depths showed the sadness of those final facts and the reasons that he didn’t enjoy life anymore, the reasons that he didn’t trust in faith, or love, or for that matter, God, anymore.

“I want you back at church tomorrow, Daddy,” she said. “It’d mean a lot to me, and I think it’d do a world of good for you, too.” She waited, and when he didn’t speak, she whispered, “Say yes, Daddy. Please.”

He looked at her, but remained silent.

“Okay then, say maybe.”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

The bell on the door sounded, and Mr. Feazell called out a greeting to the incoming customers. “Well, hello, Dr. Graham. How are all of you doing today?” The store owner proceeded to announce that his new puppets had arrived that morning, and then Hannah heard him direct them to the back of the store, where he’d set up a small stage for children to practice with the marionettes. Mr. Feazell had been eager to get every child’s opinion on the new setup.

Her pulse skittered. She’d been looking forward to this all day and wanted her father to realize that Autumn and Matt Graham were special. “Daddy, there’s a little girl I’m trying to help,” she whispered, hoping her voice wouldn’t carry far beyond the curtain barrier between the display and the store. “I just heard her arrive, and I’d like for you to meet her and her father. Her name is Autumn, and her father is Matt Graham, the new doctor in town.” She paused, not wanting to make her father uncomfortable but wanting him to understand how important this was and how much she wanted to help Autumn. “Daddy, she lost her mother to breast cancer two years ago.”

“How old is she?” he asked, keeping his deep voice low as well, undoubtedly realizing that Hannah didn’t want this conversation overheard by the newcomers to the toy store.

“I believe she’s five or six. She’s in school, probably kindergarten or first grade. Anyway, her father brought her in yesterday, and she spoke to me, connected with me.” Hannah watched him nod as though he totally understood, but she knew he couldn’t until she told him the rest. “And then he told me that she hadn’t spoken more than a word or two at a time since her mother died.”

Bo Taylor frowned. “That’s terrible.”

“But she did yesterday, for me. She talked to me, smiled for me. I—” Hannah tried to form the right words to explain it “—I felt a connection between me and that little girl, Daddy. She needs someone who understands what she is going through. She needs me to help her cope with losing her mom.” Hannah leaned forward so she could peek through the tiny crack in the display area’s curtain and saw that Matt, Autumn and an older woman were all still listening to Mr. Feazell describe the elaborate puppet area. When she was certain they couldn’t hear their conversation, she dropped the curtain back in place.

“Five or six,” her father said. “And already lost her mom.” He sighed wearily.

“She said that I’m like her mommy. I don’t know if it’s because she saw my breast cancer pin, or maybe because my hair is shorter, or what. But because she sees me as someone ‘like her mommy,’ she’s willing to open up to me. Daddy, it touched my heart so much, I can’t even explain it. I’ve been thinking about her all day.” Hannah didn’t add that she’d also been thinking about Matt Graham all day. Or the fact that he fell into the same category as her father, losing a wife to breast cancer and being left to raise a child, even if Matt only had one to raise and her father had been left with two.

However, looking at her father’s face now, Hannah suspected that her dad also put the similarities together and could literally feel the little girl’s pain … and, of course, Matt Graham’s pain.

“Daddy, I really think I can help her. I think I’m meant to.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bless her little heart,” he whispered. “Bless her precious little heart.”

“I don’t know why she picked me to talk to, but I prayed to God to let me help her, and I think He is letting me do that.” She noticed her father’s face alter a fraction when she mentioned her prayer, but he didn’t say anything negative. “She’s going to start coming here every day to help me with the display.”

“I’m glad you’re able to help her, princess,” he finally said. “I just wish … I wish that no child had to go through that, and I wish you and your sister would have had someone to help you cope with everything back then. The way you’re helping this little girl.”

Hannah edged toward her father and took his hands in hers. It didn’t take but a moment to realize his were trembling. “Daddy, we did have someone to help. We had God, and we had you. And we made it through.”

Mr. Feazell’s voice grew louder as he directed the Grahams back to the front of the store. “Well, I think Hannah’s been working on a section of the town square today that you should all enjoy, the Sweet Stop. It’s the candy shop straight across the square, you know.”

Hannah gave her father a smile, released his hands then turned in time to see Mr. Feazell slide the curtain open and the trio of customers come into view. The woman with them appeared to be in her late forties and was very pretty, petite with short, wavy auburn hair. She tenderly patted Autumn’s shoulder as they neared.

Autumn stood between her father and the woman, but she stepped in front of them as soon as she saw Hannah. “We came back,” she said, her smile stretching across her face and her dark brown eyes growing wide with excitement. She had her hair pulled up in a high ponytail with a navy bow. A waterfall of long brown curls trailed past her shoulders, and she wore a plaid navy-and-green jumper over a white shirt. Even her Mary Jane shoes were navy leather, cute over white kneesocks.

She was absolutely adorable, and Hannah fought the urge to reach out, pull her into her arms and simply hold her, to let her know that everything would be okay again. She didn’t want to scare her away, but she truly wanted Autumn to know how much she cared. Eventually they would work their way to a hug greeting. Hannah hoped so, anyway.

“Hello, Hannah,” Matt said. “I had a patient to see this morning, or we’d have been here earlier. Still okay for us to help you out today? I think Autumn’s been looking forward to it ever since we left yesterday.”

“Of course it’s still okay, and I’ve been looking forward to it too,” Hannah said, smiling at Autumn.

“This is my mother-in-law, Maura,” Matt continued, indicating the woman beside him.

“Nice to meet you,” Hannah said.

“Wonderful to meet you,” Maura replied. “Really wonderful. Matt told me about yesterday, and well, I wanted to come too. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” Hannah said. She touched her dad’s hand. “This is my father, Bo Taylor.”

Maura and Matt exchanged greetings with Hannah’s father, while Autumn’s attention zeroed in on the dollhouse that Hannah had pulled out from the remainder of the display.

“Is that the candy store?” she asked, pointing to the dollhouse in progress.

“It sure is.”

Maura’s hand moved to her mouth and she shook her head in apparent awe at Autumn’s communication with Hannah.

“That’s GiGi,” Autumn said, pointing to Maura.

And at her granddaughter’s words, Maura’s eyes trickled silent tears. “She couldn’t say grandma when she started talking,” Maura explained, “and I became GiGi.” She smiled warmly toward Autumn. “But I haven’t heard her say it in a long time.” Her voice broke with that declaration, but Autumn didn’t notice, still smiling at Hannah.

Hannah wasn’t sure what to say in response to Maura’s statement, so she instead spoke to Autumn. “I put that awning on a couple of minutes ago.” She pointed to the newest addition to the structure. “Do you like it?”

Autumn followed Hannah’s finger and grinned. “Yes.” Then she looked over Hannah’s shoulder to gaze out the window and across the square. “It looks like that one.”

Hannah followed her line of sight and saw that she’d spotted the Sweet Stop and the red-and-white-striped awning covering the entrance. “That’s right. And I want this little shop to look just like that big one.”

“I can help you do that,” Autumn said.

Maura moved her hand to Matt’s arm and gently squeezed. Then Hannah heard her whisper, “It’s a miracle.”

Hannah reached for the bag of candy she’d tucked beside the dollhouses. “You know, I also need someone to help me eat the treats Mr. Feazell brought in from the Sweet Stop today.”

The doorbell sounded, and Mr. Feazell laughed. “Well, you guys eat the sweets, and I’ll go check on the other customers.” He released the curtain and returned to the store.

“You have candy?” Autumn asked, peering over Hannah’s shoulder as she reached for the bag.

“I sure do.” Hannah held the sack open so Autumn could see inside. “And I have enough for everyone.”

Hannah’s father patted his hand to his stomach and smiled. “No sweets for me today,” he said, “and I’m going to head on out.” He looked back at Matt and Maura. “Pleasure to meet both of you.”

“And you,” Matt said.

Then Bo looked at Hannah and Autumn, and Hannah noticed how his attention focused on the little girl, fingering through the sweets in the bag.

“I’m going over to Mitch and Jana’s house later,” he said to Hannah. “She said she’s cooking lasagna and wants us all to come. I think she got some new pictures of the baby yesterday at her ultrasound appointment. You coming?”

“She asked me as well,” Hannah said. “And she told me about the ultrasound pictures. I wouldn’t miss it.”

He nodded, glanced again at Autumn. “Nice to meet all of you,” he repeated, then left.

Autumn looked up from the bag, where she’d found a fluffy piece of divinity wrapped in pink cellophane and tied with an orange ribbon. “Do you get candy every day?” she asked, tugging on the bow and opening the candy. She took a small bite and grinned. “Because I think I’d like to come back, every day.”

Hannah laughed. “I don’t get candy every day, but I get a bag of treats fairly often. Life’s a little better when there’s sugar in it, or that’s what my mama always said.” She heard Matt’s chuckle.

“I think I’d have to agree with that,” Maura said.

“Well, I’d like to come every day anyway,” Autumn said, her words a little muffled with more of the sweet white candy in her mouth.

Hannah grinned. “Good, because that’s what I’d like, too.”

“I believe that’s a great idea,” Maura said. “Absolutely wonderful idea.”

“You want one?” Autumn asked, holding the bag toward Hannah.

“I never turn down candy from the Sweet Stop.” Hannah pulled out a piece of divinity, this one wrapped in blue cellophane and tied with a yellow ribbon.

“You want one, GiGi?” Autumn asked, and Maura nodded enthusiastically, her happiness at hearing her name from her granddaughter evident in her smile.

“Do you, Daddy?”

“Yes, precious,” he said, and withdrew a green-and-white-striped candy apple stick.

While they enjoyed the candy, a few people stopped at the window and waved. Hannah and Autumn waved back, while Matt and Maura smiled from the small visitor’s bench. Then Hannah passed out some hand cleaning wipes to get the stickiness off before she and Autumn continued working on the newest dollhouse addition to the town square display.

“Okay, here’s our plan,” she said to Autumn, while she ran the cool wipe over her fingers. “I’m going to work on the outside of the store, paint the name on the building, place the patio arrangements, put flower boxes beneath the windows and all of that. Your job is to go through these things that Mr. Feazell brought us and pick what you want to put inside the store. It doesn’t have to be exactly like the candies in the store, but we want it to be as close as possible, okay?”

Autumn nodded, intently listening to every word. “Okay.”

Hannah held up a tiny glass case. “This display case looks like the one in the store. You’ll want to put some of the tiny candies inside, and we’ve got plenty to choose from. Mr. Feazell even found small pictures that look like the paintings that hang in the Sweet Stop. I’ll let you pick which ones to hang on the walls.”

Again Autumn nodded and began looking through the tiny items.

“There may be one problem with your plan,” Matt said.

Hannah looked up and found herself face-to-face with the man who, at some point in the past few seconds, had moved from the bench to the floor. Sitting merely a couple of feet away, he looked completely comfortable on the floor, not doctorlike at all, like a dad wanting to be involved in the activity his daughter enjoyed. And like a guy that a girl would enjoy having around, to sit beside her and simply be a part of her life. He was close enough that Hannah could smell the crisp scent of his aftershave, or his soap, or whatever it was that tickled her nose and seemed so undeniably masculine.

It’d been quite a while since she’d been this close to a man, or at least a man that she found this attractive, and she wasn’t prepared for the excited nervousness that went along with the proximity. His eyes, Hannah now noticed, were focused on her, and she had to concentrate to remember what he’d said. Then she blinked, replayed the last couple of minutes, and had it.

“A problem?” she managed.

“Autumn hasn’t been inside the Sweet Stop. We’ve been to the square a couple of times since we moved here, but we never went in the shop. I honestly didn’t even think about it,” he admitted, then smiled and added, “I try to watch sweets, being a doctor and all, but I do like them.” He held up the candy stick. “And I should have realized that Autumn would, too.” He shrugged. “Don’t know why that didn’t occur to me.”

Hannah’s heart clenched in her chest. Bless his heart, he had no idea that Autumn wanted to go to the Sweet Stop because until yesterday, she hadn’t said enough words for him to know.

“Well, that is a problem,” Hannah said, glancing at Autumn.

The little girl’s head tilted to the side and her smile faded. “So I can’t do it? I can’t put the things inside the store?” She paused, her mouth tightening. “I can’t help you?”

“No, baby, that’s not it,” her daddy said, and he reached in his back pocket, withdrew his wallet and fished out a few dollars. “You can definitely do it, but it’d be easier if you were able to see the store from the inside. So why don’t we go over and let you take a look before you try to decorate the little one here? We can even take some pictures with my phone, so you can look at them when you’re picking the things out for your store.”

Pride illuminated Autumn’s face when he said “your” store, and the sight of it thrilled Hannah. She was such a pretty little girl, and absolutely breathtaking when she smiled.

“And while we’re there,” Matt continued, “we’ll get some sweets to take home. I haven’t had nearly enough candy in the house, and every little girl needs candy every now and then. Because—” he grinned “—I have it from a very reliable source that life’s a little better with sugar in it.”

A frisson of pure happiness shimmied down Hannah’s spine with his words and his smile.

“Okay!” Autumn said, standing. “Let’s go get candy!”

“Can I take her?” Maura asked, her tone almost pleading. “I want to pick out some sweets for home, too.”

Matt had been preparing to stand, but stopped and eased back down near Hannah. “Sure,” he said, handing over the bills and his cell phone to Maura. “Just make sure you get me some, too,” he said with a laugh.

“Thank you, William. I truly appreciate this,” Maura said, reaching her palm toward her granddaughter. Hannah noticed that she referred to Matt as William, but he didn’t seem to acknowledge the error, so she didn’t let it register on her face, either. Maura gave Autumn a timid smile. “You want to go get some candy with GiGi?”

“Yes,” Autumn said, placing her hand in her grandmother’s and then telling Hannah and Matt, “We’ll be right back.”

Maura beamed with delight.

“That sounds great,” Matt answered. “And make sure you get some more of these apple candy sticks. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to want another one later.”

“We will,” Autumn said.

Hannah waited until they exited the toy store and she and Matt had waved to them before they headed across the square. Then she said, “I didn’t think about the possibility that she hadn’t been in the Sweet Stop yet. I should have thought of that, since you haven’t lived here that long.”

“No need for you to apologize. I should have thought about the possibility that she would have wanted to go in the candy store,” he said, rolling the green apple candy stick between his thumb and forefinger as he spoke. “I took her all around the square yesterday hoping to find something she liked and didn’t even think of the candy store.”

“You’re a doctor,” Hannah said. “Sweets probably aren’t as high up on your list as they are on everyone else’s, or at least mine.”

He smirked at that. “Hey, I’ll have you know I like candy as much as the next guy. I just try to be smart about it.” He popped the end of the green apple stick in his mouth.

“Well, I’ll have you know that I try to eat a little candy every day,” Hannah said, reaching back into the bag and withdrawing another piece of divinity. She peeled back the wrapper and popped the whole thing in her mouth without getting an inkling of stickiness on her fingers. But her mouth was now full, and he noticed.

“You know, I wasn’t going to try and take it from you,” he said, laughing.

She started to speak but couldn’t and held up a finger while she chewed. Eventually, while he kept laughing, she swallowed then also laughed. “I didn’t think you would,” she clarified. “I was simply trying to get it all in my mouth with the cellophane so my hands wouldn’t be sticky while I work.”

“Sure you were.”

Hannah’s skin tingled at their easy, flirty banter. Here he was, a nice guy—a doctor, no less—with a sense of humor, an amazing smile and an adorable little girl that had already touched Hannah’s heart. She could really get used to this.

“You said yesterday that you and your sister are both in remission,” he said.

“Yes, we are,” Hannah said with a grin. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Definitely. And your dad mentioned she’s having a baby?”

“She’s due in a few weeks,” Hannah said. “I think he was worried about her getting pregnant, because of the cancer and all, but everything has gone very well. I think Dad was afraid that if something happened and her cancer came back, then she wouldn’t be able to get treated during the pregnancy, or it would hurt the baby, or something like that. But she hasn’t had any problems at all.”

“I’m glad she hasn’t had any problems.” He paused, seemed to think about something, and then said, “Even if something would have happened and she had needed treatments, it’s believed that treatment after the first trimester is still safe for the baby.”

“Really? I’m sure they probably talked to Jana about it, but she never told me that. I guess I assumed you’d have to wait until after you had the baby to keep the baby from getting hurt by the treatment.” She shrugged. “I’m sure our family spends a lot of time thinking about things like that when we don’t need to worry. Especially since Jana is doing great,” she added with a smile.

“I think any time you’ve been affected by a disease, you think about it. I’m glad Jana’s doing well. And I’m glad that you are doing well, too. Very glad.”

“Me too.”

He glanced out the window toward the Sweet Spot, where Hannah could see Autumn’s dark curls through the store’s window. She stood by the candy display case and pointed to something, and Maura held the phone up to take a picture. “Our family has been affected by that disease, too, I’m sure you can tell,” he said. “But this past week has been an answer to our prayers in helping us deal with everything. It’s amazing, seeing Autumn like this, happy again.” He paused. “I told Maura about her breakthrough yesterday, and she wanted to come today. I assumed it’d be okay.”

“Of course.”

He eyed the bag of candy then peeked inside.

Hannah laughed. “Go on, I know you want to try something else.”

“With the way you wolfed down that divinity, I thought I’d be lucky if there was another piece left.”

“There are three pieces left, thank you very much,” she said, handing him one of the remaining candies.

He smiled, unwrapped the divinity and followed her method of popping the whole thing in his mouth. Then he held up a hand to show her he’d also managed the feat without a bit of stickiness.

“Good job,” she said, admiring not only his manner for eating the candy without getting sticky, but also the way he looked so appealing accomplishing the task.

He finished chewing and swallowed. “Thanks. I have a feeling I learned from the master.”

She laughed again, put down the bag of candy and picked up a tiny flower box. “Okay, but I need to take a break from eating candy now and get back to the job.”

He fingered the small patio pieces. “I know we’re causing you to work extra hours on this display, and I want to apologize for that.”

Hannah smiled. Here he was, finally finding his daughter again after two years and concerned that Hannah’s part in it all was something of a burden. On the contrary. Hannah thought it nothing short of a blessing, or maybe even a miracle, like Maura had said, but definitely not a burden.

“No apology necessary. I’m not exactly on the clock when I work. I quote a price for a window display, and then I work whatever hours it takes to complete the project.” She shrugged. “I usually try to take my time, because people like watching me work in the window.”

“I can understand why people want to watch you,” he said.

“Yeah, I think people find it enjoyable to get a bird’s-eye view of something being created. It’s kind of like watching through the window at the Sweet Spot and seeing how the doughnuts are made, the cookies are decorated and all of that. I think I could watch them all day.”

“You do like sweets, don’t you?”

She smiled. “Very much.”

He smirked. “I see, but I wasn’t talking about watching you work. The reason I can understand why people want to watch you is because I also find it enjoyable—” blue eyes lifted and found hers “—looking at you.”

Hannah noted the intensity of his tone and the fact that he now looked at her in a way that made her feel very feminine, very pretty. She felt herself blush, and glanced away.

“Didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he said. “Just stating the facts. Kind of goes along with my profession, you know.”

“It shouldn’t make me uncomfortable,” she said, fiddling with the miniature flowers for the window boxes. “But I’m out of practice at hearing those kinds of compliments, I suppose.”

“You aren’t used to hearing compliments? Really? Why is that?”

She was thrown by the genuine surprise in his tone. However, instead of finding his question too personal and feeling awkward, for some reason, she found it easy to talk to him, even about things that she rarely admitted. Maybe it was because he’d been through similar circumstances, dealing with breast cancer and losing someone he cared about, but for whatever reason, Hannah didn’t hide the truth. She, like him, stated the facts.

“Because of my cancer. I didn’t want to get close to someone and then put them in the situation of going through those treatments, then all of that waiting and wondering and hoping. So I’ve kept to myself the past few years.” She shrugged. “The past three years, in fact, ever since I was diagnosed. No dating or anything like that. It’d have been too difficult with everything going on in my life.”

A look passed over his face, but Hannah couldn’t read it, and she didn’t know how to ask him what he was thinking. So she did what she often did when she found herself in an uncomfortable moment within a conversation; she changed the subject.

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