For he is our God
and we are the people of his pasture,
the flock under his care.

Psalms 95:7 NIV

When Christie Hanuman bumps into her ex-husband in a Loving pharmacy, her life turns upside down. A changed man, Patrick Hanuman, now widowed with a three year old son, begins a difficult journey of renewing the love he lost years earlier. Can Christie forget the past and learn to trust again? Can Patrick learn to laugh and love without regret? Can love happen the second time around?

Chapter One Excerpt

Patrick.

Christie Hanuman’s heart cartwheeled and skidded to a stop. She turned her head to avoid eye contact and studied the display of plastic strip bandages.

Her hands trembled as she selected a couple of packages with cartoon figures and dropped them into the carry-basket. Near the bottom of the display, another of the children’s favorite designs caught her attention, and she reached for it, wanting to finish her shopping and get out of the store before. . . .

"Christie?"

Hearing his voice, Christie jerked, and the boxes tumbled from the shelves with a domino effect, falling in a heap at her feet as she spun around to face him.

Time had improved his good looks. His tall, lean body had perfected with age, broadening his chest and filling out his shoulders. Even the new facial creases added character to his strong features.

She struggled to calm herself while panic wrapped a tourniquet around her lungs. She maneuvered her facial muscles into a pleasant expression. Voice don’t fail me now.

"What are you doing in town, Patrick?" She relaxed, hearing her tone sound steady and natural.

"I. . .my dad hasn’t been well." He glanced toward the heap of boxes around her feet and dug his hands into his pockets. "He’s asked me to . . ."

Christie watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed.

". . .take over the hardware business."

The information rolled over her like a sixteen-wheeler. "You mean. . .you’re moving back to Loving?" Holding her breath, she waited for his response while tension rose up her back.

He gave her a slow nod. "We’re staying with Dad for now." He slipped one hand from his pocket and ran it over his hair. "If he’s doing okay, I’ll look for a place."

His plans sounded way to permanent for Christie.

"Otherwise. . ." He shrugged, and his eyes filled with tenderness.

Christie recalled his gentle look, and the memory rattled her. She clutched her shoulder bag, fearing her trembling hands might give her away.

"If he needs me," he continued, "we’ll have to stay with Dad."

We’ll. Patrick and his wife. Christie had heard about his marriage, but hearing about it when he’d been away had been one thing. Seeing him now was another.

Christie hated the emotion that rushed through her. She stumbled backward and felt her heel sink into one of the plastic strip packages. "I hope your dad’s doing well soon," she mumbled, wishing to sound sincere. In reality, she didn’t know how she felt as her emotions fluttered and thudded through her mind like a captured bird.

"Thanks." Patrick tucked his hands into his jeans pocket again and jingled his coins a moment, then pulled them out. He seemed as edgy as she felt. His gaze dropped again toward the floor and the pile at her feet.

"Dad has his good days," he said. He bent down and retrieved the crushed plastic strip package, pushing it back into shape. "But handling the business full-time is too strenuous for him now." He shoved the box onto the shelf, then crouched again.

Having no clue what to say next, Christie knelt beside him. As they reached for the same package, his hand brushed hers, and the tourniquet around her lungs tightened. Why did he have to come back to Loving? Why now when she’d gotten her life organized, and she’d managed to get her daycare center off the ground and thriving?

He rose first and jammed the boxes onto the shelves. Christie straightened and waited. When he’d finished, she added hers and rearranged them into two neat rows. Now that Patrick had returned to jumble up her life, she wonder if things could ever be as orderly again.

He stood beside her without speaking until she finished.

"How have you been, Christie?" Patrick asked.

A nudge of revenge shot through her heart and loosened the compression in her chest. His question had unlocked a door that sent her pride marching forward with a flag of victory. "I’ve opened a daycare center." She managed to hold a direct gaze.

His face paled, it seemed, with a tinge of remembrance. His full lips she’d loved to nibble when they were in love pressed together until the color faded to white, but he appeared to rally and drew himself upward. "Good for you."

She scrutinized his statement. His voice sounded too loud and overly sincere. She guessed he hated her reaching her goal without his direction. Hated her success. "A childcare center was always my dream."

"I remember," he said.

This time the noticeable regret in his voice surprised her.

"The business is doing well," she said. "Very well."

"I never thought it wouldn’t. When you have a goal, it never fails."

It never fails. The words stabbed through her heart. The one thing most important to her had failed. Their marriage. "Not everything, Patrick." Her verbal knife twisted, and she watched his face wrench through a series of emotions.

"Well, most things," he said, with a faint shrug.

Seeing his reaction, Christie wished she could retract her words. Patrick’s chocolate brown eyes grew dark, and his handsome face appeared as strained as she felt. "I’m sorry. No sense dragging out the past."

"I don’t blame you," he said, taking a step back, his attention drawn to the display of bandage strips.

"Thanks for helping me put back the boxes," she said.

"No problem."

His gaze caught hers, and she felt her pulse quicken before he looked away.

"I only wish. . ." His voice faded as if dealing with an unspoken regret, but he recovered and smiled. "Anyway, congratulations on the business. I’d love to see it sometime."

"Thanks." She avoided responding to his request. Why did he want to see the center? She could only imagine he would find fault with it. Nitpick. Patrick had always needed to be in charge, but she noticed he still couldn’t make a neat row with the boxes.

He opened his mouth, then closed it as if he’d wanted to say something.

Though Christie recognized disappointment in his face, she had no desire to appease him. She couldn’t please him years earlier. Why try now? She stepped backward, stretching the distance between them. "I imagine I’ll see you around."

"I’m sure," he said, lifting his hand in a feeble farewell.

She turned and headed for the checkout. No way would she continue shopping and run into him again in another aisle. Seeing him today had reopened the wound she’d soothed and healed years ago. She looked at the packages of plastic strips in her basket and wondered which one she should use to cover the deep scar that ached within her.