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Loving Feelings Steeple Hill Love Inspired, June 2005 by Gail Gaymer Martin
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Proverbs 31:30 NIV
A homemade candy enterprise brings two people together who can open the doors for love and healing. While opposing business ideas push them apart, they are brought together by an eight year old who’s heading for trouble. Though their focus is on the boy, their attention takes a detour to each other, but secrets from their past kept them from facing the truth as they realize that it will take more than kisses, chocolate or real, to heal their wounds. Only God can offer them a sweet, loving ending.
Excerpt Chapter One Chi-ching. Rat-ta-tat. Chi-ching. Thwang. Jenni Anderson paused and listened. The muffled noise buffeted down the hallway. Cory. What was he doing? She moved closer to his doorway and pressed her ear against the wood. Chi-ching. Whirr. Rat-ta-tat. Bah-ding. She pulled her head away and rapped her knuckles against the door. Though he was only eight, she had always tried to respect his privacy. "Cory, what are you doing?" The racket stopped. "Nothing." His tone reflected his irritation. "Can I come in?" Jenni asked, placing her hand on the knob and containing the desire to tell him to watch his mouth, but she wanted inside without a fight. "Why?" "Because I want to know what you’re doing." She heard his footsteps pound across the bedroom floor, and the knob turned beneath her hand. She pulled it away as the door opened an inch, and Cory peeked out through the chink. "I’m playing." Jenni tried to peer into the room but the angle only yielded her a look at the bedroom closet door. "Playing what?" He hesitated until guilt broke through his stoic look, and he gave in. "Pinball." She sent her mind back to his handheld electronic games. Jenni didn’t recall a pinball game that made that kind of noise. "Let me see." She grasped the door and pushed it forward, feeling resistance until he relinquished and stepped back. A laptop computer sat on his desk where his homework had been pushed aside. Her heart thumped as she sought a reasonable explanation. She was certain laptops weren’t loaned out by Cory’s school so she grasped for another possibility. She moved closer. Top brand. Looked new. "Where did you get the laptop?" He shrugged. "You must know where you got it, Cory." He lifted his hooded eyes. "I found it." "Found it?" Her heart slid to her stomach and twisted into a restricting knot. He’d found a bicycle once that belonged to a boy on the next block. After investigating, she learned he’d found it in the family’s garage. Jenni sank to the corner of his bed. "Where did you find it, Cory?" "On the way home from school." Her fortitude crumbed as she looked at his direct, unblinking gaze. "Where on the way home?" With her persistence, his head drooped. "On the street." "That’s strange," Jenni said, rising and shifting to the computer. She moved the mouse and studied the programs, then opened a word processing program. When she hit "File" on the menu bar, the cursor sprawled down a list of documents, and she noticed one recently opened: Resume. She gave a click, opened the file, and scanned the information. Todd Bronski. Grant Street. Loving, Michigan. Age thirty-five. Jenni let her gaze travel down the resume. Experienced in promotion and marketing. Cory stood beside her, saying nothing. Ashamed that she was reading a stranger’s personal information, she stopped and shifted her gaze to the top of the page. "Hand me a piece of paper, please. I’ve found the man’s telephone number." Cory winced, and the truth settled over her like a brick. He shuffled through his homework and handed Jenni a ragged corner of looseleaf. She found a pencil and jotted down the number, then glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock in the evening. Not too late. "We’d better call Mr. Bronski. He’ll be happy to know you found his computer." Cory shoved his hands into his pockets with a frown. Jenni turned her attention to the computer, closing the programs and turning off the power. "Put this back in the case, Cory, then bring it into the kitchen." "We’re not taking it back tonight, are we?" Cory looked at her with questioning eyes. "Probably not." "Then I don’t know why I can’t play pinball for a while." "It doesn’t belong to you, Cory. Please put the computer into the case like I asked." She spun around and forced herself down the hallway, wanting to shake him with his impudence. He stole it from somewhere, she was sure. Emotions reeled through her, feelings of hopelessness and failure she’d felt so often with Cory’s mounting bad behavior. Jenni tried to remember when it began. The past couple of years, she speculated. It had happened gradually. Jenni sank into a kitchen chair and waited, trying to decide how to handle the situation. If she challenged Cory now without the facts, she’d end up arguing with him. If she didn’t say anything, she’d be condoning what he did. Cory finally appeared in the doorway, lugging the laptop in its black zippered case. He plopped it on the kitchen table and sank into a chair, his arms folded across his chest. "I never have any fun," he said. "Sorry." Neither do I, she thought, Her problems flooded over her and she drowned in its wake. Jenni carried the scribbled number to the telephone and punched the buttons, trying to decide what to say. After the fourth ring, she shifted to hang up the phone, but the ringing stopped replaced by a pleasant masculine voice. She took a deep breath. "Sorry to disturb you, but my name is Jenni Anderson. I’m looking for Todd Bronski?" "This is Todd." She could hear the hesitation in his voice. "I’m calling about your computer. Your laptop." The line went silent for a moment. "What?" he said finally. "I believe you’re missing a laptop computer." "Can’t be. I left it in my car." "You may have, but right now, it’s in my house. My eight-year old said he found it." "Found it? An eight year old? I don’t think so." Jenni swallowed. "I wouldn’t think so either, Mr. Bronski, but it’s here nonetheless. I’m sorry." She knew he was bewildered by his tone. "It’s late, I know, so could we return it to you tomorrow?" "My laptop?" He mumbled into the phone. "Are you sure." "Yes. I-I found your resume." Silence filled the line.
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