High Plains Hearts Read online

  Angel’s Roost © 2003 by Janet Spaeth

  In the Cool of the Evening © 2011 by Janet Spaeth

  Sunshine © 2011 by Janet Spaeth

  Print ISBN 978-1-62416-734-8

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-62836-347-0

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-62836-348-7

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Dear Readers

  Angel’s Roost

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  In the Cool of the Evening

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Sunshine

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to North Dakota! I’ve lived here most of my life, and I’m still stunned by how beautiful it is. A clear Dakota blue sky arches above the open stretch of land that goes on forever. The seasons are here in full force—from the gentle, green spring that comes after a fierce, cold winter with wild blizzard winds, to the glorious, brisk autumn that follows a warm, sun-blessed summer.

  From the eastern part of the state, with some of the richest farmland in the United States, to the wild Badlands in the west, this state is incredible. Imagine a field of sunflowers, towering high above the ground, or an expanse of blue-blooming flax. You’ll see them here.

  My favorite time in North Dakota is night. Every evening I go outside and spend a few minutes marveling at the nighttime sky. It’s dressed up at night in its finest jewels. Stars aren’t sprinkled across the sky—they are glowing clusters of sparkling diamonds against an inky velvet sky, and the moon is a glowing pearl. If I’m lucky, I’ll see the aurora borealis. The northern lights are stunning, with blazed streaks of sapphire and turquoise and emerald, and they remind me that our Father loves us and cares for us. Always.

  I’m blessed to live here, and I hope you enjoy your visit to North Dakota in these stories!

  Janet Spaeth

  ANGEL’S ROOST

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to those angels, seen and unseen, who have shaped and changed my life. I am especially grateful to Cleo Rowe, whose faith is constant and unwavering and who believes in angels because they believe in her.

  Cleo, this is your book. Thank you for being my friend. You are an angel yourself.

  Chapter 1

  Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

  HEBREWS 11:1

  Yes, her halo was definitely tilted.

  Tess leaned into the display and straightened the halo on the three-foot-tall angel that stood inside the door of her store. It was always an eye-catcher, but sometimes it seemed as if it had a mind of its own—kind of a renegade angel.

  “There,” she said at last, leaning back and admiring the angel, which grinned at her from under its wild raffia hair, not at all repentant. “Now try not to get into any more trouble.”

  She opened the door that led from the store into the rest of her house. It was nice having the store only footsteps from where she lived. She walked the short distance to the kitchen and put the teakettle, painted with whistling angels, on the stove to boil.

  Tea would be nice, she thought, as she shivered in the back room. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and in North Dakota that meant winter had already arrived, no matter what the calendar said. Heat didn’t quite penetrate into the far rooms of her old Victorian house, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world. The rooms were still alive with precious memories—of Grandma and Grandpa and the very happy childhood they had given her.

  The tinkling of the angel chime over the shop door broke her reverie. She turned off the burner and dashed back into the store.

  A man, his hat and shoulders dusted with large white snowflakes, stood in silence, looking around the room. Tess smiled. Her store had this effect on many people.

  “Welcome to Angel’s Roost,” she greeted him.

  He continued to take silent inventory of the store. “This is incredible!” he said at last, removing his snow-sodden hat and revealing disheveled hair that was mostly black but shot through in places with early silver. He tried unsuccessfully to straighten it. “Hat hair,” he said briefly in apologetic explanation before turning his attention back to the store. “Is it all angels? Everything in this store?”

  “Every last bit of it.”

  “This is incredible,” he repeated.

  “Are you trying to find something in particular? A gift for your wife perhaps?” she asked.

  “No wife, not even a girlfriend—sorry to say.” He looked at her, and under the droplets of melting snow she saw that his eyes were dark and fringed with long lashes. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. The kind of eyes she usually saw looking back at her from the pages of magazine advertisements.

  Then the corners of those eyes crinkled, and she knew that under the thick muffler he was smiling. “This must be what heaven looks like.” He gestured in a sweeping motion at the hundreds of angels of all sizes, shapes, and colors that filled the shelves, tables, and chairs of Angel’s Roost.

  His motion stopped when he saw the angel with the halo that was, once again, tilted.

  He tugged his mittens off and pulled the snowy muffler down under his chin, revealing a face that was not traditionally handsome but already had deep laugh lines etched into it.

  “This is a wonderful piece of work,” he said as he leaned over and straightened the out-of-kilter halo. “How much is she? I’ve got to have her—I can just see her greeting my customers as they walk in!”

  An odd sensation of possessiveness about the crazy angel washed over Tess. She did some unnecessary neatening of the angel’s ecru and pink ruffled skirts.

  “She is for sale, isn’t she?” the man asked. “She’d look perfect right inside the front door.”

  “Her halo won’t stay straight,” Tess said softly.

  “That adds to her charm.” He knelt and closely examined the angel’s face, studying her mischievous eyes, her tousled hair, her lopsided smile. “Yes, this is an angel that knows exac
tly what’s what in the heavenly realm. Want to bet she’s hidden Gabriel’s horn more than a few times?”

  Tess laughed. His description was perfect.

  He stood up and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jake Cameron, by the way.”

  He said it as if expecting the name would mean something to her. Quickly she ran it through her memory: Jake Cameron, Jake Cameron. In the dim recesses of her mind a light began to glow. Food, something to do with food.

  “Tell me where the angel will fit into your store,” she improvised.

  “It’s not a store, exactly, although we do sell some items. You’ve been in Panda’s, haven’t you?”

  Panda’s! The upscale coffee bar was a big draw for college students on the far end of town, near the mall. All the new development out there had attracted most retail and new eating establishments when the downtown had fallen out of favor and into disrepair.

  It had become a division of the town’s loyalties in which sides had been taken, battle lines drawn. Tess was firmly on the side of downtown.

  The history of the community itself, a river town established by a long-ago fur and commodities trade, was still evident, preserved in the stately structures that had crowded together in the early days of the Dakota Territory to form a business center that had eventually deserted it.

  Tess delighted in it. Its bricks and ornate moldings had much more character than the plastic and glass of the End, as the new area had come to be called.

  She’d been in Panda’s once, almost a year ago, and she was overwhelmed by the choices. All she’d wanted was a cup of coffee, but she’d ended up with a brownie-type creation and a mocha drink topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon. She had to admit that both were wonderful, even if she didn’t know exactly what she’d eaten or drunk.

  Tess nodded. “I’ve been there.”

  He studied her for a moment. “You’re not a regular, though. I’m sure I’d remember you.”

  “To be honest, it’s a bit out of the way for me,” she responded. “I don’t get over to that part of town very often.”

  She knew she was understating her disdain for the End, but this man was a customer, and she was not about to get into an argument about the town’s two diverse business sectors.

  “I know what you mean. I don’t get downtown much either, or, believe me, I would have been in here before. It’s astonishing what all you have in this store. I’ve never seen so many angels gathered in one place.” He looked around curiously and picked up a small packet from a calico-lined basket near the cash register. “What’s this?”

  “Smell it,” Tess suggested.

  “Wow! This is great! What is this stuff called?”

  “ ‘Angel’s Breath,’ ” she answered. “Potpourri. The manufacturer calls this little package a sachet, but to me a sachet is something you put in a drawer to scent your clothing, and this is too potent for that. One little packet will scent an entire room. Some people buy it for their cars too.”

  The potpourri was one of her best-selling items. She even used it in her bedroom.

  “Well, it’s wonderful, whatever it’s called.” He put it back and asked her directly, “How do you like being downtown?”

  He had touched on one of her favorite subjects. “I love it! It has a special ambiance that, quite frankly, the newer development doesn’t have—yet,” she added hastily, recalling that was where his business was located. “I really do like it. I suppose it’s not for everyone, but it works for me.”

  He nodded and picked up a terra-cotta angel, which he studied with casual interest. “But hasn’t it gone to street people?”

  She warmed to her topic. “Actually, downtown has always catered somewhat to street people. Not too long ago people strolled up and down Main Street, window-shopping even at midnight.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. But what I’m getting at is that the downtown has always had a nightlife that other parts of town haven’t had. It’s part of the downtown identity. And,” she acknowledged, “as time’s gone on, those people on the streets at night have changed. That’s true.”

  “It’s not safe.” His statement was blunt.

  “It’s not totally unsafe either. But the mayor’s renewal project has taken this into account, and I’m hopeful about seeing changes down here.”

  “You know a lot about this.”

  “I’m a member of the task force.”

  “Do you think Panda’s would fit in downtown?”

  Before she could respond, a large gray cat sauntered in. Its plumed tail waved back and forth, dusting dangerously near a set of fragile china angels that hovered protectively around and over a detailed porcelain nativity set.

  She scooped the cat up as it began to weave through the display and affectionately rubbed her face in the cat’s fur. “This is Cora.”

  “Hi, Cora.” Jake reached out and scratched the cat’s nose. A loud purr rewarded his efforts.

  “You must be a cat person,” she said as Cora wiggled free to wrap herself in and out of Jake’s ankles.

  “I adore cats.” Cora investigated the puddles of melted snow that had dripped off Jake’s coat. He stood still, exhibiting the instinct of a cat lover not to move quickly and startle an investigating cat. “And this one is terrific.”

  “She’s been with me since I moved in here.” After two years Tess was finally able to tell the story without tearing up. “This was my grandparents’ house, although I grew up here, too. When Grandma died—Grandpa’d died about a year before—she left me this house. I came back here after the funeral, and Cora was waiting. Sunning herself right in this front area, as if she’d always been here.”

  “Was she your Grandma’s cat?”

  Tess shook her head. “No. Grandma loved cats, but she’d been living in a nursing home since Grandpa died, and she couldn’t have a cat there.” As she remembered, she couldn’t help smiling. “Grandma always said there’d be a cat waiting for her in heaven, a cat the color of pussy willows.”

  Jake knelt and stroked Cora’s gray head. “The color of pussy willows, huh? What an extraordinary story!”

  The cat meowed imperiously and meandered over to the large angel with the rakish halo. Jake watched her. “Cora’s got good taste. I truly do want to buy this wonderful angel. Are you going to tell me how much she is?”

  She paused, and he pulled out his wallet, clearly misunderstanding her hesitation. “Oh, I suppose it really doesn’t matter. I’ll take her at whatever price you’re asking.”

  “I really didn’t have a price put on her,” Tess said. “To be honest, she’s been here since I opened, and she’s almost a fixture in Angel’s Roost.” She made some quick mental calculations and named a price she almost hoped was too high.

  He didn’t flinch. “No problem.” He handed her several bills, and Tess tried not to let her eyes widen at the amount of green she saw in his wallet.

  Then he smacked his forehead. “I can’t take her!”

  Tess breathed a mental sigh of relief, and she turned from the old-fashioned cash register.

  “Here’s your money back, then.”

  He shook his head. “Oh no. I still want her in Panda’s, but my car is packed with boxes I have to mail. For once in my life I’m ahead of the game with my Christmas shopping. Too bad too, because I see lots of things here that would have been great. My mother, for example, would adore that angel with the emerald green wings, and—”

  “Would you like me to deliver the angel?” She tried not to wince as she spoke. Parting with the angel was hard enough; having to take her to her new home was almost unimaginable.

  “No. No need to. I’ve decided I want to come back and do a little more Christmas shopping. When do you close?”

  She had to smile. “Around five, but it doesn’t matter. I can stay—”

  He scratched Cora’s neck as he thought. “No. You probably want to get home.”

 
; “I am home.”

  He looked up, startled.

  “I live here.”

  “I didn’t realize this was an apartment building,” he said.

  “It’s not. It’s a house—my house. As I say, I live here. Well, Cora and I live here.”

  Cora looked at Tess as if challenging her words. Jake caught the glance, too, and his chocolate brown eyes twinkled with amusement.

  “I have the feeling that you live here only through her largesse.”

  “Basically. In exchange for vast amounts of tuna and Cat-Cat Yums, I get all the kitty kisses and snuggles I could ever want.”

  They exchanged laughing glances.

  “In other words she tolerates me.”

  He grinned as the cat happily scraped the side of her head on the big angel. “She’s a character, that’s for sure. So may I pick up Faith tomorrow?”

  “Faith?” Tess was at a loss.

  “That’s what I’m naming this angel. Faith. Doesn’t it fit her?”

  Tess tilted her head and studied the wayward angel. “I don’t know. I always thought of faith as being light and airy and pure, not crazy like this one.” Mechanically she once again straightened the angel’s halo. “But let me think about it.”

  “When I come back tomorrow, let me know what you’ve decided. But Faith seems right for her, so Faith she is.”

  “Well, she is your angel now.” The words cost her dearly.

  “As a matter of fact, let’s put a SOLD sign on her,” he said. He took one of the business cards from the angel-wings holder near the cash register and scrabbled in his pocket until he found a pen.

  “SOLD!” he proclaimed as he wrote the word on the back of the card. He bent over and tucked the card into the angel’s raffia grasp.

  As he stood up, he looked out through the prism edges of the piano window that graced the front of the store. “Still snowing. Not that that’s any big surprise, right?”

  She nodded mutely, relieved he didn’t seem to expect much of an answer.

  “I’d better be going,” he said, wrapping the muffler around his neck again and settling the sodden cap back on his head. “The snow isn’t stopping, and I want to get to the post office before it closes.”