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Harvest House Publishers - Sally John

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216 pages

English

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Description

Welcome to the Casa de Vidaeleven quaint bungalows located three blocks from the Pacific Ocean in tiny Seaside Village, California. Owner Liv McAlister never advertises vacancies beyond a small hand-lettered sign out front, preferring to trust that God will send the right tenant at just the right time. And He always does.Heidi Hathaway's life has been turned upside down. After an accident leaves her injured, unable to work, and incapable of negotiating the stairs in her multilevel oceanfront condo, she leases her home and moves into a cozy little cottage in the charming garden complex where her friend Piper lives. There she finds so much more than a place to rest and recover.Piper Keyes knows Jared is not coming back from Afghanistan. After making it through the fifth anniversary of his death, she wonders if she's at last ready to get on with life. She gingerly explores new avenuesphotography, cooking, and buying her own boutiqueand learns to open her heart again.The most comforting thing about living at the Casa is that the women there become each other's mentors and confidantes, learning from their own mistakes and arriving at new, healed places in their lives.

Informations

Publié par	Harvest House Publishers
Date de parution	01 février 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780736954693
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0480€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Scripture verses are taken from the Jerusalem Bible 1966 by Darton, Longman Todd, Ltd., and Doubleday Company, Inc.
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Cover photos PlusOne / Bigstock
The author is represented by the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Ste. 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920. www.alivecommunications.com .
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
HEAVEN HELP HEIDI
Copyright 2015 Sally John
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
John, Sally, 1951-
Heaven help Heidi / Sally John.
pages ; cm
ISBN 978-0-7369-5468-6 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5469-3 (eBook)
I. Title.
PS3560.O323H434 2015
813 .54-dc23
2014026847
All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means-electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other-without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author s and publisher s rights is strictly prohibited.
Dedication

For
Cindi Cox and Jeff Carlson
Thank you for being there
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Residents of the Casa de Vida Cottages
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Discussion Questions
Books by Sally John
About the Publisher
Acknowledgments
Thank you, readers, for your support and encouragement. I cannot say how often an e-mail, a Facebook post, or a letter from one of you encourages me in my writing.
What do I know about leg injuries, titanium rods, real estate, cars, car racing, sports, trucks, kayaks, and-sometimes-words? Not much. Thank you to family and friends who provided details from personal experience: nephew Matthew John, sister Cindi Cox, Carla and Chester Genack, Elizabeth and Troy Johnson, Tracy and Christopher John. If there are mistakes, these are the people to blame.
Many thanks as always go to the great teams behind this work: editors Kathleen Kerr and Kim Moore, everyone else at Harvest House Publishers; agent Andrea Heinecke, and everyone else at Alive Communications.
Thank you, Tim, for it all.
Residents of the Casa de Vida Cottages
Olivia Liv McAlister, owner
Riley and Tasha Baker
Noah and D ja Grey
Sean Keagan
Piper Keyes
Charles Chadwick Rutherford IV
Inez and Louis Templeton
Coco Vizzini
Samantha Whitley
Jasmyn Albright
Beau Jenner, maintenance man
I have taken you by the hand
I SAIAH 42 :6
One
Losing control of her car at eighty miles per hour had not been on Heidi Hathaway s to-do list for the first day of February.
Up until the moment she skidded off the freeway, her schedule had been ordinary. After a late lunch meeting, she checked half the items off her list and headed south on the 5 out of Orange County into San Diego, a routine drive that required no extraordinary measures. As usual, she zigzagged around slowpokes. She phoned clients-of course using the hands-free device niftily located on the steering wheel. She drank coffee, changed the radio station from jazz to news and back again, applied lipstick, unclipped her hair and brushed it.
It was a typical scenario for a Southern Californian. As a matter of fact, her friends thought of her as so typical, they said she was a SoCal clich : blonde, blue-eyed, beach volleyball ace, San Diego State grad with a major in Party Girl, owner of a red convertible.
She didn t mind the teasing, although she had outgrown the party girl phase and for many years had driven a hardtop. Currently her car was a high-end, late-model German beauty, more crimson sparkle than plain old red. She d chosen the five-door model, better suited to stowing kayak paddles and open-house signs. It was a breeze to maneuver through heavy traffic.
All in all, her life and the forty minutes on the freeway on the first of February were ordinary.
And then they weren t.
The mid-afternoon winter sun dipped at an odd angle. Ocean and sky blurred into one unbroken expanse of hazy blue. The rugged terrain of Camp Pendleton smudged into the color of brown desert camouflage fatigues. A blinding shaft of light sliced beneath the car s visor, penetrating her sunglasses.
A white van sped up on her left and hovered alongside her like a shadow. A semi in front of her reduced speed. A black SUV lingered at her right rear.
She was boxed in.
Except for the small opening on the right, shrinking by the millisecond, just ahead of the SUV.
Her father loved cars. It seemed an odd passion for an egghead of a professor, but it became their common ground from the time she was a little girl. He taught her everything about cars and how to drive. They watched races and paid to drive exotic cars at a track in Las Vegas. He cautioned her to save her competitive streak for selling real estate. The freeway was not a raceway.
The semi in front of her braked.
Her dad s words had never made total sense. If there were six lanes full of vehicles clipping along at high speeds, a little aggression seemed necessary in order to do her part to keep traffic flowing. Getting boxed in was to be avoided. She used all six lanes when necessary, which explained why she was now one lane away from the right shoulder, behind a semi.
Instead of braking, she signaled, sped up, and went for the narrow opening on her right.
And then she had a clear view of red brake lights.
Immediately, dead ahead in front of her.
She had nowhere to go but the shoulder. She torqued the steering wheel and jammed both feet onto the brake pedal. The high-end, late-model crimson beauty hit gravel and spun.
Help me, God! Help me, God! Help me, God!
The car flew. It flipped. It bounced. It rolled. Again. And again. And again.
Time ceased to exist. An eternity and a heartbeat melded into one indistinct flow.
Metal crumpled. Glass popped. Air bags burst. Sharp edges sliced and heat seared.
The world vanished.
Two
Along with every other driver around her in the southbound lanes of I-5, Piper Keyes braked. She did not simply slow down; she stopped. Not a good sign for keeping to a schedule.
Life in Southern California, Pipe, she said aloud to herself. What are you going to do? Move back to Wisconsin?
She pooched her lips in a happy-sad smile. The joke was old and private, her favorite Jared-ism.
On the radio a traffic update cut into the Sixties music and she turned it off. Traffic was obvious. She partially lowered the windows of her small sea-green hybrid car. The sun-kissed February ocean air seeped inside. After seven years its warmth in the dead of winter still enchanted her. If she moved back to the Midwest, she would miss it something awful. But then, she d miss everything.
Oh, right. She imagined her mother s voice asking the obvious. You d miss sitting on the highway in the middle of no-man s land?
Absolutely, Mom, because it s not a highway or no-man s land. It s the Gunnery Sergeant John Basilone Memorial stretch of the I-5 Freeway and it runs through Camp Pendleton, the base where Jared was stationed. I like driving on it and I like sitting on it. I feel close to him here.
And that s a good thing?
What was it about a mother s voice? Darlene s could nag and provoke, encourage and love all at once, even in Piper s imagination. Like any doting mom with a hurt child, she simply wanted her daughter back in the nest, safe and sound and pain free.
Piper s eyes stung. Yes, it was a good thing to feel close to Jared, especially this week, this weepy week. It had begun already, the unavoidable mistiness and tight throat.
The car in front of Piper inched forward all of three feet and stopped again. She followed suit. Ahead she saw creepin