Love Inspired: A Story for Every Reader

An Easter Story
Part One—Lenora Worth

“Mommy, look at the pretty flower.”
Samantha Clark smiled at six-year-old Greta. Her little girl clapped her hands and laughed in delight at the Easter lilies beginning to bloom in their yard.
Sam wished she could share her daughter’s joy. Instead she turned to stare up at the cottage she’d bought about a month ago with some of the insurance money she’d received after her husband Dan died in a car accident last year. Soon every street in the mountain town of Sunrise would be blooming with dogwoods, azaleas, lilies, roses and wisteria.
Dan had loved spring. “It renews the spirit, Sam,” he’d say with a wink and a kiss.
Not this year, Sam thought. When a rumbling old pick-up truck pulled toward the curb, she called out to Greta. “Come on back, baby.”
Greta rushed back onto the grass, but stared at the tall, lanky man who came around the truck. When the man reached into the truck bed to lift out a big tool box, Greta glanced at Sam then back to the stranger.
“Whatcha doing, mister?”
The man grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “Me, I’m here to do my job.” He walked toward Sam but he kept his eyes on Greta. “I hear you mama needs some help remodeling this house. Know anything about building cabinets or resurfacing walls, little lady?”
Greta giggled, her hands over her mouth. “No, silly. I’m just a little girl.”
Sam watched the stranger charming her daughter, noting his thick dark hair and the way his eyes lit up each time he spoke to Greta. “Mr. Matthews?”
“Jeff.” The man reached out to shake Sam’s hand. “Your father-in-law sent me.” Then the twinkle left his eyes. “I’m sure sorry about Dan.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, touched. “So … you’re the carpenter?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s me.” He glanced up at the Craftsmen style cottage, his gaze taking in the wide front porch. “I’ve always wanted to fix up this old place. I kinda had a hankering to live here myself one day.”
Surprised, Sam looked toward the house. “I guess I beat you to it, huh?”
“You sure did. But … if I can’t live here, at least I’ll know this house has a good owner.”
“I hope you’re right on that,” Sam said. “It sure needs a lot of work.”
Jeff nodded, then motioned to Greta. “Well, then, let’s get started. I might need a helper. You know of anyone who’d maybe bring me a cookie and some lemonade now and then?”
“I do, I do,” Greta replied, jumping up and down, her frilly sundress billowing like a flower petal. “Mom makes the best cookies and I can be real careful with the lemonade. I won’t spill any.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Jeff replied. “How about you, Mrs. Clark?”
“Call me Sam,” Sam replied. “Everyone does.”
“You’re way too pretty to be called Sam,” he said. “You look more like a Sammie to me.”
A bit affronted, Sammie turned to go inside. “You can call me whatever you like as long as you fix this rundown old house. It needs restoring.”
Jeff moved past her toward the big front door. “I’d say this house isn’t the only thing that needs restoring.”