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  Home to Heather Creek, is a trademark of Guideposts.

  Copyright © 2009 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to the Rights & Permissions Department, Guideposts, 110 William Street, New York, NY 10038.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

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  Cover by Lookout Design, Inc.

  Interior design by Cindy LaBreacht

  Typeset by Nancy Tardi

  Printed in the United States of America

  To my sister Melissa, who sings like an angel.

  Don’t give up on your dreams.

  And to my daughter Leslie—

  keep writing songs and using your talents for God!

  Acknowledgments

  There are so many people in my life who do so much. Because of them, my heart is glad.

  There are those living with me (John, Cory, Leslie, Nathan, Grandma Dolores and Andrea) and those in my life (church friends, community friends, writer friends, online friends). Thank you.

  I always thank Janet Kobobel Grant because she’s the most amazing agent ever and my assistant Amy Lathrop because she manages my writing life. Yeah! I also always thank my mom, dad and other family members because they love me, even under deadline.

  Yet for this book there are quite a few people who deserve much credit. Thank you to Beth Adams and Fiona Serpa, two great editors. Also thank you to the great people who helped me with favorite memories and/or information about the county fair: Max Elliot Anderson, Lorna Seilstad, Jane Wells, Anne McDonald, Gayle Gresham, Danielle McIntosh and Tara Norick. Colleen Shine and producer Eric Welch were very accommodating with information on making music videos, and Gary Van Riper and Roy Polmanteer (Twitter friends) lent a hand with song titles. Thanks to Wanda Rosseland for general help about life on a farm!

  Finally, thank you to my daughter Leslie who assisted me with the music and lyrics for the song “Sunflower Serenade.” I started with an idea, and you made music!

  —Tricia Goyer

  Home to Heather Creek

  Before the Dawn

  Sweet September

  Circle of Grace

  Homespun Harvest

  A Patchwork Christmas

  An Abundance of Blessings

  Every Sunrise

  The Promise of Spring

  April's Hope

  Seeds of Faith

  On the Right Path

  Sunflower Serenade

  Second Chances

  Prayers and Promises

  Giving Thanks

  Holiday Homecoming

  Family Matters

  All Things Hidden

  To Love and Cherish

  A Time to Grow

  Sentimental Journey

  Helping Hands

  Growing Pains

  In God's Hands

  Chapter One

  Charlotte rolled down the car window and let the warm air swirl in, imagining the scent of cotton candy, fair burgers, and barbecue. She smiled as she noticed the large semitrailer driving ahead of her, illustrated with colorful clowns and the words FUN HOUSE painted on its side. The rides were arriving, which meant the horse trailers and family campers soon would follow.

  “Fun house—they should come to our house, right, Christopher?” She clicked on her left turn signal and turned onto Lincoln Street.

  “Yeah, it’s a little crazy. I didn’t know the fair would make the town like this.” Christopher twirled his finger next to the side of his head.

  “It’s like this every year, and we’re especially busy getting projects ready to be entered, helping the church set up its pie booth, attending the rodeo and pig-wrestling events … and, of course, serving on the fair board.”

  “The fair board? What’s that?”

  “The fair board is the group that organizes what’s happening at the fair and decides what entertainers to bring in each year.”

  Christopher gasped from the passenger’s seat, and Charlotte glanced over at him.

  “You decided that?” Christopher scratched his blond head and wrinkled his nose.

  Charlotte laughed. “Well, I wasn’t the only one who decided on that, but I did vote that it was a good idea. Everyone says Shae Lynne is a popular, new singer, although I really haven’t kept up with those things.”

  A family, all dressed in jeans, boots, and cowboy hats, paused at the sidewalk, and Charlotte stopped the car and let them cross the street in front of her, offering a friendly wave. She was on her way to Rosemary’s house to drop off the pies she’d promised to make and donate for the church’s fair booth. Rosemary had an extra freezer where the pies would be safe until fair time. Keeping them at home, Charlotte knew, would be far from safe. Not only was there no extra room in their freezer, but any pie in their house was considered “open game” to any of the kids—or worse, to Bob, who didn’t need the sugar. More than that, taking them into town now got another item checked off Charlotte’s to-do list. The idea of baking and taking fresh pies to the fair on Monday would be impossible with so much else going on.

  Up and down Lincoln Street, every window was plastered with posters advertising the fair—although, truth be told, it really didn’t need much advertisement. No visitor could walk around Bedford for ten minutes without knowing what was up. For many, the fair was the highlight of the summer. Every conversation centered around it, and for some, life changed for the week. Many livestock families even camped at the fairgrounds during fair week to take care of their animals.

  “Look!” Christopher pointed to another truck four cars ahead. “That’s pieces of the Squirrel Cages. I love that ride!”

  “You do? Is that the one that spins you around and flips you upside down?”

  “Yeah, it’s awesome. When I rode it at a school carnival in San Diego a girl in the car in front of me puked all over everyone. Tons of kids got sick, but not me, even when a chunk—”

  “Okay, Christopher,” Charlotte interrupted. “That’s quite enough, thank you.”

  A wide grin filled Christopher’s face, and Charlotte turned her mind to happier thoughts. She imagined the rows of RVs parked in the camping area of the county fair, seeing old friends, catching up with people who had moved away from Bedford but who still made it back every August to enjoy good wholesome fun.

  The warm summer sun shone through the car windows, and Charlotte realized that, to her, “fair days” were as familiar as swimming in the creek, eating watermelon on the front porch, and going for long walks in the twilight down country roads.

  “Oh, look, there’s Hannah.” Charlotte spotted her friend walking into Fabrics and Fun and waved. “I wonder if she’s—”

  “Grandma, stop!” Christopher’s shout split the air, and Charlotte glanced toward the roadside just in time to see a lamb, of all things, darting right in front of her. She slammed on the brakes and the car stopped inches away from the lamb. She felt herself flying forward against her seatbelt. Next to her, Christopher’s body jerked forward and his hand hit the dashboard.

  The lamb stopped in fear, and then darted back the way it had come, scurrying down the sidewalk and weaving through the people who watched in surprise.

  The sound of Charlotte’s pies tumbling across the backseat made her cringe. She had been in a hurry and hadn’t bothered getting out the pie holder that Pete had made for her. Now she hated to turn around an
d look.

  Charlotte glanced around her, trying to figure out where the lamb had come from, and noticed a boy on the sidewalk. He gazed at Charlotte with wide eyes. In his hand was a long stick he most likely used to guide his lamb.

  Charlotte sighed. She knew that during the month before the fair 4-H members practiced leading their lambs and setting them up for competition, but whatever had possessed him to practice on the main street in town with so many cars around?

  She placed a hand over her pounding heart, and had barely caught her breath when Christopher opened the door and jumped from the car.

  “Grandma, that’s David’s lamb. I better help him catch it.”

  Christopher slammed the door and was already hurrying toward the sidewalk before she had a chance to warn him not to run out into the road. She didn’t want another close call on these busy streets.

  Charlotte inched her car to the side and then double-parked next to an older sedan so she could get a quick view of the damage.

  Please let the mess not be as bad as it sounded. She turned and peered into the backseat.

  It was worse.

  One apple pie was facedown on her back floorboard. The other pies had stayed in the cardboard boxes she’d used to carry them, but they’d flipped onto their sides and gotten smashed as the boxes had flown forward.

  Charlotte let out a deep sigh and looked up just in time to see that an older man had snagged the lamb and was helping Christopher get a rope around its neck. Once the lamb was on its leash, the other boy, David, walked shyly with Christopher back to her car. The lamb trailed behind, confused by what had happened.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Stevenson,” David said, stepping toward the car. Charlotte noticed he held the rope with an iron grip. “I was walking Bluebell, practicing for the lamb showmanship competition, and she ran away.”

  Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, but you better get that lamb home before something else like this happens.” She patted David’s shoulder. “You’re just lucky little Bluebell wasn’t smashed by the Squirrel Cages.”

  Charlotte paused, amused by her own words. Now that wasn’t something she said every day.

  “Grandma!” Charlotte turned as Emily’s voice split the air. She looked in the direction of Mel’s Place and spotted Emily heading her way. Her granddaughter had spent the night with Ashley so the two girls could help out at Mel’s Place during the busy pre-fair days.

  “Ashley and I were outside washing the windows and we saw everything that happened. Are you okay?”

  Charlotte gave Emily a quick hug. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I can’t say the same thing about the pies I was taking to Rosemary’s.”

  Emily glanced in the backseat. “Oh, what a mess.” Then she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and Charlotte knew her thoughts weren’t on the pies at all. “Can I go with you?”

  “With me?”

  “To Aunt Rosemary’s house.”

  Charlotte motioned for another car to pass by. “Well, now I don’t really need to go there.”

  “Because Rosemary saw me helping at Mel’s Place this morning and she said to come with you. She says she has something for me.” Emily clapped her hands together.

  “Well, I guess I can still swing by, but we can’t stay long. Looks like I need to head home and do some more baking.”

  Emily ran back to Mel’s Place to grab her bag and returned to the car. She moved the front seat forward so she could climb into the back. She found a place on the seat that wasn’t a mess; then she helped readjust the boxes.

  She stuck her finger into one of the pies and scooped out a large strawberry.

  “At least it still tastes good,” she mumbled as she plopped the syrupy strawberry into her mouth. “How much you want to bet the guys won’t even care that they’re smooshed?”

  So much for keeping the pies safe, Charlotte thought, and for keeping Bob away from sugar. So much for trying to keep ahead of the game this week.

  Chapter Two

  Oh, no!” Christopher’s eyes widened. “What a mess,” he said as he climbed into the front seat.

  “You’ve got that right.” Emily said with a mouthful of crumbled pie crust.

  “You shouldn’t eat those, Emily. Grandma made them for the fair.” Then, as if realizing how bad off the pies were, he glanced at Charlotte. “Can they sell smashed pies at the fair?” He wrinkled his nose.

  “I don’t think so, Christopher.” Charlotte looked over her shoulder and noticed a line of cars already growing behind where she was double-parked.

  “It is a mess, but we can’t sit here and worry about that now. Emily needs to stop by Rosemary’s really quick, and then we need to head home and clean this up.”

  “I know how to clean it up.” Christopher waved to David as they drove away.

  “You do, do you?” Charlotte eyed him.

  “Yeah, just let Toby in here. She loves pie.”

  Amused by Christopher’s comment, Charlotte felt the tension in her shoulders loosen.

  “I won’t ask how you know Toby likes pie, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Too much sugar would probably make her sick, and we need her in tip-top shape for the fair. You’ve been working too hard on all those tricks to have her get sick now.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” He pointed a finger into the air. “Then I have an idea. We can have Sam, Grandpa, and Uncle Pete eat all the smashed ones.”

  “There you go,” Charlotte chuckled. “I don’t think there will be any complaints there.”

  For a second Charlotte considered if there was a way to hide the smashed pies in the back of the fair booth and just cut slices out of them, but then she considered what the others would think and wrinkled her nose. No, it was probably better just to make new ones to replace them.

  Charlotte drove to Rosemary’s house, pulling into the alley in back. She parked, and then opened the hatchback. Rosemary must have heard Charlotte’s car because she exited the back door of her Cape Cod cottage wearing a Fabrics and Fun apron and a warm smile. She took her glasses from the tip of her nose and allowed them to hang from the chain on her neck. Rosemary’s measuring tape also hung around her neck—it was a regular part of her wardrobe. In fact Charlotte was certain the only time she saw Bob’s sister without her tape measure was at church. Rosemary brushed a strand of steel-gray hair back from her face as she approached.

  “You sewing?” Charlotte’s body felt heavy as she climbed out of the car.

  “Of course. Isn’t it that time of year? I took the day off from the shop to finish up a few items for the fair, although I’m not getting very far. I’ve already gotten at least a dozen calls from the girl who’s watching the shop for me. It seems everyone around Bedford is up to the same thing, trying to finish one more project. Good ol’ Nebraska friendly competition. But enough of that. Let me help.”

  Rosemary peered into the hatchback. “Oh my!”

  “You can say that again.” Charlotte sighed.

  Christopher jumped from the front seat. Emily got out of the car too.

  “My friend David’s lamb ran right in front of our car, and Grandma slammed on the brakes.”

  “Did you miss the lamb?” Rosemary’s worried gaze scanned Charlotte’s face.

  “Thankfully, yes.”

  “Was it out by the farm?

  “No, on Lincoln Street, of all places!”

  “Yeah, but some guy helped catch it. I helped too.” Christopher’s voice rose with excitement. “The lamb almost got run over by the Squirrel Cages.”

  Rosemary chuckled. “So I guess you won’t need to use the freezer?”

  “Not today, but maybe tomorrow.” Charlotte tried not to sound as weary as she felt. “I know what I’ll be doing tonight. Making pies.”

  “I wish I could help. Maybe I can make one or two.” Rosemary’s voice was soothing, like a warm cup of tea on a winter’s morning.

  “No, it’s okay. You have enough to do. Maybe the kids will help with the production, just like o
ld times. I’m sure Emily and Christopher won’t mind pitching in. If I start as soon as I get home—”

  “Isn’t there a fair board meeting after lunch?” Rosemary interrupted.

  Charlotte rubbed her temples. “You had to remind me about that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. The only reason I know is because Harriet Walker was in the store yesterday telling me about how much she appreciates you and Bob being back on the board. She says things weren’t the same last year without you. Harriet also asked what pie you’re entering in the fair. Maybe the pumpkin cloud? That was Jerome’s favorite,” she said, a wistful look crossing her face as she remembered her late husband.

  “Actually, I was thinking of a simple apple-caramel pie. It’s easy; I could make one in my sleep.” Charlotte sighed. “But that’s yet another pie to add to the list.”

  Rosemary patted Charlotte’s shoulder. “Well, that one is my favorite, so it’s a good choice.”

  Rosemary glanced at Emily, and her eyes widened as if she realized the other reason for the visit.

  “Oh yes. Emily, I have something for you. It’s in the garage.”

  Charlotte and Emily followed Rosemary into the garage. Charlotte glanced around, appreciating Rosemary’s many stored treasures. Rosemary was always in the middle of turning some type of yard sale find into an heirloom. In one corner Charlotte noticed a child-size table and chairs. The set was wooden, and it looked at least forty years old. The paint was chipped and one leg was crooked, causing it to lean. Charlotte’s chest constricted as she remembered Denise having a similar one in kindergarten. She wondered what had happened to that old thing. Charlotte’s eyes felt moist, and she chided herself for being so sentimental. She didn’t have time for this. She had a list of things to take care of before the fair, and now she would be adding pie-baking to that list.

  “I found the table at a yard sale,” Rosemary said, even before Charlotte asked. “I thought I’d refinish it and save it for Bill and Anna’s little one.”

  Charlotte trailed her fingers over the small table. “I’m sure it will be beautiful after you refinish it, Rosemary. They’ll love it. You always give the most thoughtful gifts.”