home, she is reminded of the comfort of family, and she also remeets Jacob. God knows Hannah’s hurts, and He is planning a future for her all along.
Jacob has endured his own tragedies, and yet to some degree he has come to terms with his solitary existence. But he doesn’t see himself as God sees him—as a beautiful creation. He doesn’t believe anyone would want to spend their life with him. Then one day he shows up to build a playhouse and finds his future waiting for him.
I hope you enjoyed reading A Widow’s Hope. I would love to hear from you. Feel free to email me at [email protected].
Together may we “always give thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20).
Blessings,
Vannetta
This book is dedicated to JoAnn King, who has recently become an avid reader. JoAnn, you’re a constant source of encouragement and joy. Thank you for your friendship.
I would like to thank Melissa Endlich for inviting me to join the wonderful group of authors at Harlequin/Love Inspired. I’d also like to thank my fellow LI authors who have willingly answered questions, explained procedures and offered guidance. Thank you to Steve Laube for overseeing my career.
And a big thanks of gratitude to my husband, Bob, for getting up at first-bark and taking care of pets, laundry, grocery shopping, cooking and the countless other things that I neglect because I’m squirreled away in my office.
And finally, “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20).
Contents
Monday mornings were never easy. Though Hannah King heard her four-year-old son calling, she longed to bury her head under the covers and let her mother take care of him. She’d had a dream about David. It had been so real—David kissing her on their wedding day, David standing beside her as she cradled their newborn son, David moving about the room quietly as he prepared for work.
But he wasn’t in the room with her, and he never would be again. A late-summer breeze stirred the window shade. In the distance she could hear the clip-clop of horses on the two-lane, a rooster’s crow, the low of a cow. Summer would be over soon. Here in northern Indiana, where she’d grown up, September was met with a full schedule of fall festivals and pumpkin trails and harvest celebrations. She dreaded it all—had no desire to walk through the bright leaves, or decorate with pumpkins or bake apple pies. Fall had been David’s favorite time of year. Matthew was born in September. The accident? It had occurred the last week of August. That terrible anniversary was one week away.
This year, the thought of autumn overwhelmed her. Her entire life left her feeling tired and unable to cope. She was happy to be home with her parents, but she hadn’t realized the extent of their financial troubles until she’d already moved in. Their church in Wisconsin had used money from the benevolence fund to pay for Matthew’s surgeries, but her parents had paid for all of his rehab from their savings. Now they were operating month-to-month, and the stress was beginning to show. She needed to find a job, to help them with the
