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

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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.