Bless His Heart

  Bless His Heart

  Copyright © 2019 Jessica L. Elliott

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Abundantly Blessed Excerpt

  Easy Chicken Noodle Soup

  Other Books by Jessica L. Elliott

  Dedication

  To all who bless the hearts of those around them through their love and service.

  Books in the Blessings of Love Series

  Brushstrokes and Blessings by Danielle Thorne

  Blessed by the Fake Boyfriend by Lacy Andersen

  Bless His Heart by Jessica L. Elliott

  Abundantly Blessed by Rachael Eliker

  Twice Blessed by J. J. DiBenedetto

  Backward Blessings by Rachel A. Andersen

  Chapter One

  Greyson parked his car in front of the old Victorian home which had been his grandmother’s home since her birth. The weathered boards and gingerbread trim could use a fresh paint job and some repairs. Nothing major, but still, the expenses would add up. A cracked window in the upper level of the house drew a frown from him. How long had that been cracked? Gram hadn’t mentioned any broken windows during his weekly phone calls. Granted, it may have occurred during the three weeks she was in the hospital following her stroke. His heart twisted at how close he’d come to losing her, but he pushed those feelings aside. Now was not the time to be sentimental. For now, he needed to do some quick calculations. His gaze roved down the house and to the lawn. Weeds choked the normally well-kept gardens and his grandmother’s beloved rose bushes looked scraggly. They needed pruned, desperately, and probably a good dose of fertilizer wouldn’t be remiss. He turned to his grandmother, the formidable Georgianna “Georgie” Montgomery Able. “When was the last time you had the yard mowed?” he asked, taking note of the tall grass and profusion of weeds.

  “Oh, it’s been some time, I suppose. I’m not exactly a spring chicken, you know. Besides, I haven’t even been home to look after the yard because someone wouldn’t spring me from that prison.” She shot him a dirty look.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Greyson said, “It was a hospital, Gram, not a prison. And are you telling me you’ve been mowing the lawn yourself?”

  “Well what else am I supposed to do? The yard needs care.”

  “You’re nearly eighty,” Greyson replied wearily as he got out of the car. They’d had this argument before. More times than he cared to admit to or remember. The elderly woman sitting in his passenger’s seat was more stubborn than a monkey with its hand caught in a trap. He walked and opened his grandmother’s door. “What happened to hiring one of the local boys to do it for you?”

  “Oh, Thomas graduated six years ago. He’s married now,” she added with a significant look at her grandson.

  “That’s great for him,” he said, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, “but that was six years ago. Blessings isn’t that small. Surely you could have found someone else.” They took the walk up the sidewalk slowly. His grandmother had regained much of her lost mobility following her stroke, but her left side continued to be stiff.

  “No one mows lawns like Thomas did. He was always so careful about the gardens.”

  Greyson sighed, the beginnings of a headache twinging behind his eyes. “So, you’re saying that in six years,” he emphasized the words so she’d realize how ridiculous her argument was, “you couldn’t find a single, young person who could tend your yard.”

  “No.”

  “And Blessings doesn’t have a lawn care company you could hire?”

  Georgie scowled at him. “I don’t have time to conduct interviews. You know how busy I am with the town historical society.”

  Greyson bit back the retort teasing his tongue. He was relatively sure his age of twenty-eight years wouldn’t stop his grandmother from washing his mouth out with soap. “Well, I guess once I get you settled in, I’ll get that lawn taken care of for you. And then I’m going to make some calls and get someone out here on a regular basis. You live in a historic home, Gram, it should look like it.”

  “I’d rather say it does,” she retorted with a mischievous, lopsided grin, her blue eyes twinkling. “All I need is to find a ghost to come live in it.”

  Greyson returned her grin. “Please, Gram, you are trouble enough by yourself. I don’t need to be worried about what kind of trouble you’d get into with an undead companion.”

  Georgie laughed as Greyson unlocked the door and led her inside. “Spoilsport,” she said.

  Instead of replying, Greyson looked around. The interior of the home wasn’t in quite as bad of shape as the exterior, but he could see it needed work too. Funny it should all seem so glaringly obvious now. It hadn’t been an issue the last several times he’d visited. Then again, the last visits hadn’t involved him trying to decide how to convince his aging grandmother that is was time to move into a home for the elderly. Or even come to Kansas City and live in his townhouse. He cringed, knowing how much his grandmother would hate either idea, especially when she’d balked at the suggestion while still in the hospital.

  “Are you cold, dear?” Georgie asked.

  “Hmmm? No, just thinking. Have a seat, Gram, and I’ll get you some water.”

  She scoffed. “I’m perfectly capable of getting my own water.”

  “Yes, you are,” Greyson admitted. “But you also taught your grandsons to be gentlemen. Do you really expect me to forget those lessons now?”

  Georgie beamed with pride. “Well, I suppose I could allow you to do it. But not because I can’t do it myself.”

  “Of course not.” Greyson walked into the kitchen and looked around. It hadn’t changed much since he was a boy. Same faded blue wallpaper, dark wood cabinets, antique appliances. He sighed. The numbers in his head just kept going up. He shook his head as he filled two glasses with water. As he was walking to the parlor, he heard a knock on the door. Handing his grandmother the glasses, he said, “I’ll get it.”

  “But you’re the guest here, not me,” Georgie said, her lower lip protruding slightly.

  “And I’m already up,” Greyson replied, before leaving the parlor as another knock sounded. The comforting aroma of chicken and noodles wafted through the door as he opened it. A young woman wearing faded jeans and a plaid jacket stood on the porch holding a large soup pot. A loose bun held her honey blonde hair away from her face. Warm brown eyes crinkled in confusion when she saw him as her bright smile dipped somewhat. “Can I help you?” he asked lamely.

  “Oh, I’d just heard that Mrs. Able was returning home today and thought she might enjoy a home-cooked meal tonight.”

  “Yes, Gram and I just arrived. And you are?”

  “About to burn my hands,” the young woman replied candidly. “I’m sorry, would you mind letting me in?”

  “Sure,” Greyson said, moving so she could walk past. Whoever this was, she knew her way around Gram’s house. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that as she scurried to the kitchen to set the pot down. She then walked straight to the parlor where Georgie welcomed her with a hug and kisses on her cheeks.

  “Greyson, dear,” Georgie called, “come meet Hope.”

  As he stood in the doorway, Greyson decided Hope was the perfect name for the woman standing next to his grandmother. Her smile lit the room as she said, “Sorry not to have introduced myse
lf. Those potholders are about worn to nothing, but I always seem to forget that when I’m taking food to someone.”

  “Understandable,” Greyson said, though he wasn’t sure that was the right response. Why keep something that didn’t do its job? “Greyson Able.”

  “Hope Fields,” she replied, reaching to shake his hand. It was a firm handshake, and the calluses on her hands surprised him. No dainty miss here, though he couldn’t help but admire the contrast between her creamy complexion and his own deep umber. “I’ve still got a few things at the house to bring over.”

  “Greyson will help you,” Georgie said eagerly.

  He closed his eyes, so his grandmother wouldn’t see them roll, before turning to Hope with a smile. “Sure, what can I help you with?”

  “Oh, I don’t want to take any time away from you two. I’ll only be a minute.”

  “Don’t be stubborn, Hope,” Georgie said, waving a hand. “I’ve seen nothing but doctors and Greyson for three weeks, bless his heart. A few minutes of peace would do me good.”

  Greyson scowled. Gram was the last person on earth who should be chiding people about being stubborn. And he hadn’t been at the hospital near as often as he would have liked. It was part of why he wanted to move her closer to him.

  “If you’re sure,” Hope said.

  “I’m positive,” Georgie replied, practically shooing them from the room.

  Greyson shot his grandmother one last scowl before following Hope out of the house. “I’m sorry about that,” Greyson said as he followed her to the cheerful yellow house next door.

  “About what?” Hope asked.

  Taking a deep breath, he hesitated. While he didn’t want to make things more awkward, he also wanted to make sure Hope knew not to expect anything. “My grandmother is an incurable matchmaker.”

  To his surprise, Hope laughed. “Don’t I know it.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Hope flashed him a bright smile. “Mrs. Able has been sneakily, and by sneakily I mean blatantly, trying to set me up with any number of young men she comes into contact with. She seems convinced that I’m quite miserable and lonely on my own.”

  While Hope opened the door to her house, Greyson said, “So, you’re used to this?”

  “Dreadfully so, yes. I appreciate the help,” she added, “don’t get me wrong. But I’m not going to pine for you tonight or start counting down until I see you again. No offense.”

  Why did that feel like an insult? Greyson wondered vaguely as he said, “None taken.” A streak of white fur flew into the room as Hope opened a door. It started circling Greyson, yipping excitedly. “Um?”

  “No, Rascal, down. Down. Sit. Rascal, sit.” Hope said firmly, snapping her fingers.

  The furball suddenly stopped moving, sitting at Greyson’s feet. Two blue eyes looked adoringly up at him. It had to have been the smallest puppy Greyson had ever seen. It yipped once more, its tail whipping back and forth.

  “She’s waiting for you to pet her,” Hope said with a gentle smile.

  Greyson knelt down and stroked the puppy’s head. She barked again and licked his hands.

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d have anyone else with me,” Hope said as the puppy once again sped through the door it had come from. “She’s pretty gentle, really. Just extremely energetic too.”

  “What kind of dog is she?” Greyson asked.

  Hope shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I picked her up at a shelter in Lawrence this past spring. We’ve been besties ever since.” She motioned for Greyson to follow her and led him through the door she’d just opened. “I’m hoping to get a companion for her in the next few months. She gets kind of lonely here when I’m gone most of the day.”

  He stepped into a sunny kitchen decorated in green and cream. Through the window, he could see Gram’s overgrown yard. A frown tugged at his mouth. “So, how long have you been Gram’s neighbor?”

  “Pretty much forever,” Hope replied. “I grew up in this house. My Dad had a heart attack a few years ago. Scared him and my mom pretty bad. He decided it was time to retire and go somewhere more temperate.”

  “Florida caught him, huh?”

  Hope laughed. “Yep, it sure did. How about your parents? I admit, it surprised me when you opened the door. I thought your dad would have come himself.”

  Greyson frowned. “He wanted to, but my oldest brother’s wife gave birth to their twins prematurely right when Gram had her stroke. The babies are still in the hospital. Mom and Dad are staying with LaMont and Annie in New York to help with all that recovery entails. Dad calls every night to check on her, and I know he wishes they could be here. I guess Gram gave him an earful when he suggested he leave LaMont’s to come out.”

  Nodding, Hope said, “That sounds like Miss Georgie. Is that why you’re the one out here taking care of her?”

  “For the most part. Most of my aunts and uncles are several states away, and many are still working. My brother Terrell is stationed in Japan at the moment. Since I’m only an hour away, it made the most sense for me to come. And I hadn’t used any vacation time this year anyway, so I had time available to take off. My parents were disappointed that we won’t be able to get together for Thanksgiving like we normally do.”

  “I know how that goes. It’s nice to visit Florida during the summer, and I’ll be there for Christmas, but no one does Thanksgiving quite like Blessings.”

  “How about neighborly kindness? Does Blessings have that?”

  The smile on Hope’s lips faded. “Of course we do. Why do you think I’m taking dinner to your grandmother?”

  “You can make her dinner, but you can’t keep her from mowing her own lawn?” Greyson said. While a rational part of his brain argued that he wasn’t being fair, he couldn’t stand the idea that someone had simply watched his poor grandmother work herself into a stroke.

  “Can you?” Hope folded her arms over her chest. “Look, Greyson, I work at the vet clinic all morning. In the afternoon I commute to just outside Lawrence where I volunteer as a horse therapist. By the time I get home, I’m hot, tired, and a mess. I’ve tried several times to take over mowing that lawn of hers. But when a seventy-eight-year-old woman tells you to sit down and drink a glass of lemonade, you sit and drink.”

  Greyson frowned. “But...”

  “And another thing,” Hope added, “Miss Georgie is normally perfectly capable of doing it herself. I stay right there as soon as I get home and I watch her like she was my own grandmother, because I love her like she was. On days she’s tired, or not feeling one hundred percent, I finish for her. I didn’t take care of the lawn while she was away because Miss Georgie has a very specific way she likes her yard done. I probably would have done it all wrong at which point I would have made her feel worse rather than better. And don’t even think about telling me at least it would have been done. No, sir. Your grandmother doesn’t believe in highway options, it’s only her way and I’m sure you know that.” She picked up a package of rolls and shoved it at Greyson. “Here. I’ll take the salad and pie.”

  He followed her silently back to his grandmother’s house. Hope dropped the food items off in the kitchen, stopped back in the parlor to hug and kiss Georgie before storming out of the house.

  “My goodness, I didn’t realize that girl even had a temper,” Georgie stated as the front door slammed shut. “What on earth did you say to her?”

  “Me?” Greyson bristled. “Why does it have to be my fault?”

  “Because you were the one with her,” Georgie said with a grin. “Now out with it. What did you say?”

  He sighed. “Nothing worth repeating, Gram.” The next few weeks would be difficult enough without giving his grandmother any kind of drama to fester on. Besides, she’d probably make him march over and apologize, and right now he didn’t have time for Georgie’s fiesty, attractive neighbor.

  Chapter Two

  Hope sat with Rascal in the den after getting back from Georgie’s house.
“He thinks it’s my fault his grandmother had a stroke, Rascal,” she fumed as she flipped through the channels on her television. “What kind of person accuses a perfect stranger of that?”

  Rascal yipped and then continued to gnaw on her toy.

  “I get that he’s probably scared, and so lashing out at the only person available, but still.” The puppy didn’t respond and she grinned. “Well, I can only hope Georgie puts the idea of matching me up with that grandson of hers out of her mind. I’m absolutely not interested.” Even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren’t entirely true. Of all the men Georgie Able had thrown at her, her grandson was the most attractive. He had an expressive face, and she had to wonder how many times that had gotten him in trouble. A grin teased her lips as she remembered him attempting to hide his rolling eyes behind their lids. Lucky for him, Georgie hadn’t noticed. Those dark brown eyes, fringed by lashes most girls would kill for, radiated warmth as he spoke to his grandmother. Too bad they’d turned so cold during their conversation at the house. The crinkles around his eyes disappeared and his full lips frowned at her. A shame too. Normally she didn’t much appreciate facial hair, though that might have had to do with the lack of upkeep rather than the hair itself. Greyson’s carefully groomed goatee, along with the slacks and polo he wore, spoke to the importance of his appearance.

  She sighed, finding nothing that grabbed her attention, and walked out of the room and to the home’s small library. Hope smiled as she entered the room, remembering well the day her father had gotten the shelves installed. “No home is complete without its own library,” he’d said. At the time, she’d happily agreed, and time hadn’t persuaded her otherwise. The shelves which had started out rather bare had quickly filled up with favorite volumes as she and her parents added books to the growing collection. Open spaces showed where her parents’ favorites had been, leaving space for new additions of her own. She ran her fingers along the shelves, noting that it was probably time to dust again, before settling on an old favorite.