Praise for Lenora Worth and her novels
“Lacey’s Retreat by Lenora Worth is rich in characterization and romance with an endearing hero.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Lenora Worth’s A Perfect Love is a beautiful testimony to the true meaning of family and forgiveness. The romantic pacing is just perfect, and the faith message is subtle but heartfelt.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Lenora Worth creates a character with a Heart of Stone that will have readers longing to melt it. Her best story yet, it is filled with spiritual depth and hidden meaning, including an interesting bit of history.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Easter Blessings: The Lily Field by Lenora Worth is perhaps the most beautiful and moving Love Inspired book I’ve read.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
Something Beautiful & Lacey's Retreat
Lenora Worth
CONTENTS
SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
LACEY’S RETREAT
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
LENORA WORTH
has written more than thirty books, most of those for the Steeple Hill line. In addition, she works freelance for a local magazine, where she has written monthly opinion columns, feature articles and social commentaries. She also wrote for five years for the local paper. Married to her high school sweetheart for thirty-two years, Lenora lives in Louisiana and has two grown children and a cat. She loves to read, take long walks and sit in her garden.
So we do not lose heart….
For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.
—2 Corinthians 4:16–18
In memory of my mother-in-law, Patsy.
And to all the breast cancer survivors out there.
Chapter One
She was a vision in the mist.
Lucas Dorsette quietly eased his pirogue through the dark, brackish swamp waters, maneuvering the long paddle pole around blue-blossomed water hyacinths and gnarled gray cypress stumps until he reached the boathouse nestled between the back garden and the bayou. But he stopped before anchoring the small canoelike boat against the weathered dock.
He looked again through the low mist, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining the woman who stood under the ancient weeping willow tree on the shore, her head turned so he could see her profile as she looked over the dark, chocolate waters of the bayou.
No, he wasn’t seeing things. This vision was real.
And she was exactly his type.
She was tall and slender, with a classic face that spoke of strong bone structure. She held her arms wrapped against her midsection, as if to ward off the humid chill the rising dawn had left. Long blond hair that changed from white-gold to rich yellow in the growing light hung down her back almost to her waist. She was wearing white—a long, flowing cotton dress that made Lucas think of other, more simple times. The woman looked as if she’d just stepped out of another century.
Curious, Lucas kept his eyes on her while he roped the pirogue to the dock. Then he hopped on the planked boards, his actions quick and quiet, so as not to startle the woman who stood only a few feet away, her eyes centered on the water, her body turned away from the summer gardens of Bayou le Jardin.
Lucas stood there in amazement, his gaze taking in the woman with the old southern mansion behind her. He had to swallow, blink his eyes. It was the way the rays of first light shot down from the sky to touch the woman’s face there in the soft mist, as if the very hand of God was reaching out to this fascinating stranger.
Which certainly made for a breathtaking picture. One Lucas would surely never forget.
In her long white dress with the early morning breeze lifting her thick, lush hair from her shoulders, she looked as if she belonged right there in that spot under the willow tree. Especially with the backdrop of his beloved home behind her.
The stark, classic beauty of the mansion always left Lucas a bit awestruck, even though he’d lived here since he was nine years old. He respected the quiet dignity of the old house, though he rarely stayed in his bedroom on the third floor.
Lucas preferred the swamp to the house, preferred the gardens to the parlor, preferred to be left to his own devices whenever
