Country Romance - Carolyne Aarsen Page 0,74

prayed, that Theresa would be kind to Dean. Would take him in.

She struggled with the image she'd had of the woman. Tried not to judge her from the brief encounter she'd had and from what Wyatt had told her.

Please take care of them all, she prayed as the miles rolled past and the mountains drew nearer.

Finally, after long hours, she pulled into Millar’s Crossing. It was still early afternoon. Time enough to get her stuff and then leave. Put as many miles between her and the memories as possible.

She parked in front of Mrs. Flikkema’s place, memories assaulting her. For a few precious, beautiful days, she'd had a dream. She'd had the possibility of a life and a future with an amazing man.

She clutched her chest as a sharp pain, almost like a heart attack, radiated through her chest.

No Wyatt. No Dean.

No bakery dreams.

She tried not to look too far ahead. Once again, she was back to where she had been each time she ended up back at her father's house. Not daring to think what might happen. How she would cope.

One minute, one hour at a time. Don't think too far ahead.

But even as all the losses in her life seemed to pile up, she thought of the one thing that had changed. Her openness to God's love. Her acceptance of the peace He offered her.

Something she knew could never be taken away from her. It had been a hard journey, and she knew she would have times of heartache and regret, but one thing she had learned was that God was always faithful. It had just taken a few twists and turns to get there.

She pressed cool fingers to her aching head, sending up yet another prayer for peace. For patience. For wisdom to know what to do.

And she released Wyatt, Dean, and the girls to God's care.

As she did, she felt a blanket of comfort surround her. She didn't have to be the one taking care of them.

God would watch over them.

Pulling in another breath, she got out of the car. She hadn't been able to call ahead, but she assumed that Mrs. Flikkema hadn't changed the entry code. She punched it in, heard the lock disengage, and stepped inside. At least it was warm.

She walked to the kitchen cupboard, wondering if she had any rice she could put her phone in. She'd read somewhere that doing so would help dry it out. But nothing. There were only a few groceries in the cupboard and nothing in the fridge. When she had come back here, she hadn't figured on eating here, so she hadn't restocked.

It didn't take much to get her clothes packed up. Her toiletries from the bathroom. She slipped her laptop with all its plans and dreams into her backpack and choked down a sob.

No. She was doing this. She was moving on.

Please help me, Lord, to trust in You, she prayed.

She pulled in a deep breath, walked around the suite one more time, and then slung her purse and her backpack over her shoulder. Grabbing her suitcase, she headed to the door.

Someone was knocking on it. Hard.

She looked different, Wyatt thought. An anxiousness that usually surrounded her seemed to have faded away.

She looked peaceful.

"Hey there," she said, her voice quiet. She blinked, then looked away.

Wyatt glanced down at her suitcase, the backpack and laptop bag slung over her shoulder. "You're leaving?"

"Yes. Back to Whitehorse." She made a move, like she wanted to go past him, but he shifted, stopping her.

"Do you want to go back?"

She bit her lip, still avoiding his gaze. Then she released a harsh breath. "What do you want, Wyatt?"

He was taken aback at her tone, then realized how this must look to her.

He wanted to explain everything, but not on a doorstep of someone else's house with the wind swirling snow around them.

"Theresa is gone. She's not at the ranch. She's moving to Australia." He felt he needed to at least say that.

She shot him a shocked look. "What?"

"Please, I'm freezing. Can we go somewhere warmer? Where I can get a cup of coffee and we can find a quiet corner to talk?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "I'll follow you."

He had hoped she would come with him in the truck, but this might be for the best.

"There's a place on Main Street," he said. "Not far from the bakery. It's called Coffee on the Corner."

Another nod.

"Can I help you with that?" he asked, pointing to her suitcase.

"I'm fine."

She didn't sound fine,