blurb:
extract:
Kalani (Winter)
Wonder has much bigger plans than being a local news anchor. National
plans…maybe even international. She certainly won’t be stuck in Cornelius Cove,
California for the rest of her life. She’s going places. Big places. Faraway
places. Grand places she’s only dreamed of so far.
Then her brother’s
little puddle-jumper plane crashes in the Cambria pines, leaving them both
stuck in a lovely old fishing lodge with a strange-but-wonderful lady who has a
knack for making Winter’s mind go places it doesn’t want to go. Places like
Heaven, and God…and love.
Pastor Brady Merckle
leads a quiet life, far from the one he led as a youth, and he likes things
just the way they are. Then Winter Wonder lands in Cambria, and he enjoys the
beautiful anchor woman’s company far too much. Brady doesn’t need an
over-curious reporter digging into his past, and besides, Winter doesn’t know
God. He’d best stay a whole village away from her. But when he’s hired to
spruce up Paradise Pines Lodge, he and Winter find themselves thrown
unavoidably together.
Winter has landed,
and a Miracle is about to happen.
extract:
WHAT
HAD EVER POSSESSED HER to climb into this
jelly-bean-sized airplane?
Winter
could have driven the five hours from Cornelius Cove to Santa Barbara, but her
editor was antsy for the story she’d be bringing back. Using the rental plane
pared a good many hours off her time away from the anchor desk at CoastNews, a
television news channel covering California’s Central Coast.
She
had jumped on the opportunity for a bit of alone time with her twin brother,
who piloted the C-Cove Flying Taxi planes. They were both busy climbing often
unstable ladders to success in fledgling careers, and opportunities for visits
of any length came along all too seldom.
“Hang
on, Sis.” Winter heard the string-tight tension in Kai’s warning only because
she knew him so well. The crease in his brow didn’t make for a warm, fuzzy
feeling either. “I’m gonna have to take ’er down, and the landing’ll be about
as smooth as an over-aged pineapple’s skin.”
The
little puddle jumper dipped in a sickening cant to one side, and Winter’s eyes
widened at sight of the ground, way too far below. She gasped and balled her
hands into tight fists, but managed a shaky smile at her brother’s terminology.
Born to a Navy dad from northern California and an island mother, she and Kai
had been raised in Oahu, Hawaii. Even now, after a decade in California, they
often thought and spoke in terms influenced by Hawaiian culture.
“We’ve
survived rough stuff before, Kai. Just do your best, it’s always good enough.”
Kai
struggled to right the wavering aircraft, but glanced her way for half a
second. “I love you, Kalani. You know that, don’t you?”
Oh,
yeah…they were in serious trouble. Under normal circumstances, he would never
risk the sharp end of her tongue by using the name her parents gave her. She’d
taken on a “stage name” when she went on the air for KCCN, and insisted her
family use it and learn to think of her by that name. When her parents balked,
she reminded them that she had kept the family surname. Although Kai didn’t see
the need for a name change, he stepped in to support her choice, and their
parents eventually acquiesced—although they clearly considered it a ridiculous
and unnecessary move on her part.
So
Kalani became Winter Wonder. A name that zipped and zinged, sizzled and sang
with so much more dramatic punch and memorability than did her given name. This
was a moniker fit for a celebrity—and that’s what she intended to be. A
celebrity.
And
now Kai had called her Kalani. He did so now and then, but usually with tongue
in cheek, a deliberate ploy to get her dander up. She wished he was being a
tease of a brother right now, but his voice and expression wrecked any hope of
that. Her heart clenched, even as the plane took a sharp nose dive toward the
ground.
“I
love you too, brother mine.” She made a noisy show of checking her seat belt.
“Now shut up and cut the rough stuff off that ancient pineapple.”
****
Pastor Brady Merckle
crossed to a nearby faucet to rinse his paint roller. As water sluiced through
the nape, pale yellow turned to white and gradually cleared. He watched, a grin
teasing at the corners of his lips.
When
Miss Angie’d approached him about sprucing the place up and doing a few
repairs, he’d been surprised. The lodge always appeared pristine and welcoming.
In all his visits to Paradise Pines, he’d never noticed a need for a facelift.
“I’d
be glad to help, but honestly, Miss Angie, I don’t recall a single thing
looking less than perfect out there.”
“Well,
it certainly doesn’t look perfect now, dear.” Tall, elegant, and soft-spoken,
the white-haired lady patted his arm. “Come on out and take a look. When you
can, of course. I know you’re busy with the church and Chrysalis and a hundred
other things.”
“I
always have time for you.” He kissed a soft, gently lined cheek and gave her a
one-armed hug. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”
Two
days later, he’d stood scratching his head outside the lodge before knocking on
the door. When had the place gotten so run down? He wracked his brain, trying
to dredge up a mental picture of what it had looked like on his last visit.
Surely he’d have noticed such a blatant lack of upkeep. The place definitely
needed a bit of cosmetic attention.
The
large two-story structure had once been a fishing lodge, owned by an old guy
everyone in Cambria knew only as Preacher. He hadn’t actually been a preacher,
unless one counted the life he lived, which delivered outstanding sermons with
never a word spoken. When old Preacher died—out on his boat, with his line in
the water, doing what he loved to do—the lodge sat empty for a good, long time.
Then
Miss Angelina Love showed up, keys in hand, and had the place completely
renovated. Now it housed two separate dwellings—her downstairs unit, and a
large, two-bedroom apartment on the upper floor. Miss Angie rented that one to
seasonal guests, and she was immoveable about the season-long lease. Guests
stayed three months or not at all at Paradise Pines.
Brady
frowned, trying to think how long the lodge had been open for business. How
long since Preacher died? He couldn’t seem to put his finger on time when it
came to Paradise Pines, and trying to think about it gave him a headache.
“Brady?”
He
shut off the water, gave the brush a hefty shake, and turned to see Miss Angie
making a fast path across the lawn. He quickly closed the distance between
them.
“Miss
Angie? Is something wrong?”
A
rare frown creased the woman’s normally smooth brow. She shaded her eyes with
one hand and raised her head to scan the sky.
“Do
you hear that? Something doesn’t sound right.”
Puzzled,
Brady followed her gaze.
A
small plane dipped to one side and the other, and then took a sudden dive
toward the ground. Brady caught his breath. Beside him, Miss Angie whispered a
prayer.
Now
he heard what Miss Angie had already picked up on. Something wasn’t right. The
engine sputtered and spit. Instead of the smooth drone usually heard when small
planes passed over, an inconsistent cough and hiccup erupted from the one now
conducting an awkward, lurching sky dance.
“They’re
in trouble.”
Miss
Angie whirled toward the front of the lodge. “Come with me. The people in that
plane are going to need help.”
“Whoa,
whoa!” He was also concerned for the occupants of the small airplane, but why
did the woman think the two of them would be involved in its landing—successful
or otherwise? “Even if that plane comes down, it probably won’t be anywhere
near here.”
She
turned back toward him, the picture of grace. A long, white sheath drifted
around her ankles as her movement displaced the air, and she seemed almost to
float. Brady caught his breath. Something about the way the sun hit her eyes
made them glow golden, and they pierced him to the soul.
She
lifted one arm and pointed a long, slim finger toward a wooded area on the
south side of the lodge. “They’ll crash into the woods, right over there. I’m
going for blankets and water.” One more turn, and she was off again, faster
than he’d ever seen her move. Miss Angie was ever and always the picture of
grace and beauty. Her next words drifted over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”
Brady’s
jaw dropped, and he stood frozen—but only for a few seconds. Her sense of
urgency took hold in his own heart. Long legs carried him swiftly around the
corner. He reached the front door ahead of her and held it open.
“I’ll
put everything you think we might need in the back of my truck.”
A tourniquet and a strong, flat board.
Brady
caught his breath as he waited in the small entryway. He was a minister. He
believed in talking with God, not
just to him. But this had been more
than a gentle nudge of the Spirit. Those words were almost audible.
“Miss
Angie, do you have an old sheet, or something to use as a—”
She
shoved a worn sheet and a couple of old, worn leather belts into his hands. “In
case we need a tourniquet. There’s a case of water in the pantry. Will you grab
that while I get a couple of blankets?” She turned and hurried toward the
bedrooms, and then stopped. “After you put those in your truck, you should
probably find some kind of board…something flat and strong. Big enough to carry
a person on, if need be.”
Then
she was gone. Brady forced air in and out of his lungs, but didn’t pause to
wonder how they’d both arrived at the same mental destination. He’d been around
Miss Angie enough to know the lady had a connection to Heaven that went beyond
description.
He
headed for the storage shed in search of a sheet of plywood.
Comments
Thank you for the sweet compliment. I love this cover too -- probably for the same reason you do, sweet friend. :)