Maid to Love Read online

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-61626-005-7

  Copyright © 2010 by Jennifer Johnson. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. niv®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Prologue

  “Look at Bobby. Only twenty-two like me and standing at the altar. The man is plumb whipped. Whipped like a boy who’s brought a garter snake in the house to scare his little sister.”

  Nick Martin grinned at one of his best friends in the world, Drew Wilson. He knew by the slow smile that formed on Drew’s face he was remembering the time he and Nick had scared Drew’s little sister, Addy, nearly half to death with a good-sized snake when they were in middle school. She’d run home and tattled, and the both of them received some consequence for their prank.

  Drew’s smile dropped to a scowl. “Henpecked is what Bobby is. Just two years older than me and already linked to a ball and chain.”

  “I sure don’t want no part in it,” Nick’s youngest friend, Wyatt Spencer, added.

  “Me neither,” said Mike McCauley.

  Nick huffed at the two younger friends. Mike and Wyatt were fresh out of high school. Of course, they didn’t want any girls tying them down. Having bought a good chunk of land from his dad, Nick had been out on his own for four years now. Four hundred acres and a herd of cattle was a lot to handle at times. Still, the last thing he wanted was a wife, whining and nagging at him to do this and help her with that.

  Drew turned toward them. “Let’s form a pact.”

  Nick scrunched his nose. “A pact?”

  “No wives.”

  Mike furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, no wives?”

  Drew scratched his jaw. “No. Not a pact. Let’s make a bet. Let’s see who can wait the longest to get married. The loser has to. . .” He bit his bottom lip, obviously trying to figure out what to wager.

  “I’m not betting money,” said Wyatt. “I don’t mind a bit of competition, but I’m not aiming to gamble.”

  Drew scowled. “I wouldn’t gamble either, and you know it.”

  “How ’bout farm work,” Nick said. “The loser has to do the winners’ chores every Saturday. . .”

  “But I don’t have a farm,” Wyatt interrupted. “When I win, what will y’all do for me?”

  “When you win?” Mike chuckled. “Wyatt Spencer, you ain’t gonna win. You’re as crazy over girls as my rooster is over his hens.”

  Nick snapped his fingers. “I got it. There can only be one winner. Whoever is the last to get married is the winner, right? Well, the three losers”—Nick pointed to each of his friends—“has to help plan and pay for the winner’s wedding when he finally does decide to settle down.”

  Drew scrunched his nose. “Ugh. Who wants to do that?”

  “That sounds awful,” Wyatt added.

  Mike frowned. “I wouldn’t even know what to do. I don’t want to pay for no silly wedding.”

  Nick grinned as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the chair. “Exactly why it’s the perfect wager.”

  The guys seemed to think for a moment until Wyatt extended his hand. “I’m in.”

  Placing his hand on top of Wyatt’s, Mike added, “Me, too.”

  Drew chuckled as he smacked his hand on top. “When I beat you all, I’m going to make you wear pink shirts.”

  Nick narrowed his eyes as he placed his hand on Drew’s. “We’ll see about that.” Nick pushed the guys’ hands down. “Deal?”

  “Deal!” His friends responded in unison as they lifted their hands in the air.

  Drew smirked. “Come on, guys. You know I always win.”

  Nick grunted but didn’t respond. Drew had a knack for winning at absolutely everything the four of them competed at. But not this. Nick would be the last of them to get hitched. No matter what.

  One

  Five years later—May

  Addy Wilson tore at the envelope like a child ripping open a birthday present. Her heart pounded in her chest. She’d been on three interviews—one rejection straight out, one rejection after a second interview. . .and this was her third job opportunity. The one she’d wanted the most.

  She pressed the letter against her chest, closed her eyes, and envisioned her office at Dynamic Designs Unlimited in Lexington, Kentucky. She’d paint the walls a deep sage, accenting with cream and taupe colors. Of course, she’d have to add a splash of raspberry, as it was her favorite color, but only a splash, so as not to dissuade any male clients who might not care for the pinkish purple color.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she could already smell the light lavender-scented candle she’d warm in the office. Lavender, a fragrance she’d learned aids the mind in concentration. God, I can hardly wait to get started. Please, let this letter be a yes. I’m going crazy working at the food court.

  The minimum wage job had been perfect through college. Flexible hours. Flexible manager. Fairly easy, mindless work. Take orders. Fill soft drinks. Take money. Pass tray. Easy enough. Since she’d graduated five months ago in mid-December, Addy thought she would lose her mind if she didn’t find a position doing her heart’s desire.

  Pulling the folded letter away from her chest, she exhaled a long breath. Her nerves tingled with the possibility of an acceptance letter. Her heart pounded with the fear of rejection. She’d never been so wrapped up in the want, the yearning as she was for this position. Even the stinging words of her ex-boyfriend, Trevor, when he dumped her two weeks ago hadn’t incited such emotion. I really want this job.

  Procrastinating no further, she unfolded the letter.

  Dear Ms. Wilson,

  It is with great regret that I inform you. . . .

  “No.” She shook her head as the words blurred beneath her tear-filled eyes. Her shoulders slumped as she fell backward onto the couch. “No.”

  She looked around her already furnished apartment, the only one she could afford. The drab colors always threatened to wrap themselves around her and strangle the very breath from her body, but now they seemed to swirl together in a jumbled frenzy, suffocating her while making her long to throw up. Her friend and roommate, Val, would be home soon. She would speak words of encouragement to Addy. Words she didn’t want to hear.

  After forcing herself to stand, she sulked her way to the bathroom and undressed. She turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it and stood beneath the pelting water. God, I wanted that job so badly. I had such confidence, such peace about the interview. I thought for sure. . . .

  It seemed as if only moments had passed when the water started to turn cold. Addy stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in the oversize, fuzzy, hot pink robe her grandmother had bought her for Christmas. Normally she relished the soft fabric, nestling herself into it. Today she tightened the belt, padded to her bedroom, then slipped under the covers of her bed. She wanted Val to think she was asleep when she arrived home.

  Renewed tears welled in her eyes as self-pity rose in her chest. Trevor’s rejection of her after five months of dating tore afresh at her heart. Three job opportunities. Three rejections.
She’d graduated top of her class in interior design. Sure, she’d had to take six weeks off from job searching when she had her appendix removed, but something else must be wrong with her. She began to doubt her interviewing ability, or maybe it was the clothing she chose to wear or maybe they didn’t like her designs. She’d always believed she had an eye for design, that she could feel and find the right materials to enhance any space, but possibly she was wrong.

  One doubt rippled into another until her mind and tears were spent. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. To her relief, Val was over an hour late getting home. Addy’s stomach ached from having skipped lunch, and now it was well past dinner. I might as well get up and grab a bite to eat.

  She pushed off the covers and sat up. Her cell phone sprang to life, dancing and singing “How Great Is Our God” from the dresser. Addy grabbed it and read the screen. It was her mom. Could she handle talking to her without breaking down? For a moment, she contemplated ignoring the rings, but she couldn’t stand it. Pushing the Talk button, she said, “Hey, Mom.”

  “Addy, I’m so glad you answered. We need your help.”

  Addy’s eyebrows furrowed at the urgent sound in her mother’s voice. She hoped everything was all right, that no one had been hurt or. . . “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s your aunt Becky.”

  Addy thought of her sixty-year-old aunt who’d moved in with Addy’s parents when the woman’s husband passed away two years ago. The gray-haired, fun-loving aunt had been a tremendous help and encouragement to her mom. “What about Aunt Becky?”

  “She fell off the front porch. Accidentally stepped on one of the cats’ tails, and when the thing screamed, it scared poor Becky to death, and she fell and broke her wrist.”

  “Mom, that’s awful. I’m so sorry. Is she in a lot of pain?”

  “The medicine is helping with that, but she has to have surgery tomorrow morning, and she won’t be able to do anything with her wrist for six weeks minimum.”

  “Ugh.” Addy shook her head. “That will be tough. I know Aunt Becky doesn’t like to be tied down, but at least she’s not working. . . .”

  “Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  Addy scrunched her nose. “What?”

  “Actually, your aunt does have a few jobs. She cleans houses. You already knew she cleaned Nick’s house.”

  The mention of Nick Martin’s name sent a shot of disdain through Addy’s veins.

  Her mom continued. “She’s also cleaning for the Morgans and the Watkinses, and she doesn’t want to give them up, plus she helps me and your daddy around the house so much.”

  A sinking feeling pushed down on Addy’s stomach. “What are you asking me, Mom?”

  “Would you consider coming home for a while. . .taking over Becky’s jobs?”

  “Mom—”

  “Come on, Addy.” Her mom’s words sped up. “You haven’t gotten an interior design job yet. You hate the food court, and we all miss you. It would be such a help. You could still look for a job from here in River Run. We’re not that far from the city.”

  “Mom, I can’t just leave Val without a roommate. We share the rent, and even though I hate my job, I’d have to give notice.”

  “Maybe not. You said they’d just hired three more girls and were trying to take some of your hours.”

  “What about Val?” Not to mention the fact that Addy didn’t want to move back in with her parents, and she particularly didn’t want to clean Nick Martin’s house ever again.

  “Your aunt’s calling for me. Please pray about it. I’ll call you back in a bit.”

  Before Addy could respond, her mom disconnected. Isn’t that just wonderful. I didn’t get my job. I don’t have a boyfriend. And now Mom wants me to move back in with her—oh, AND clean a bunch of houses for my aunt, including Nick Martin’s house. She looked up at the ceiling. “God, is this some kind of sick joke?”

  The door opened. Addy walked into the living area. Now she was ready to talk with Val. Her friend’s somber expression stopped Addy. “What’s wrong, Val?”

  “I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this.”

  Addy furrowed her brows. She didn’t think she could handle any more bad news. “What?”

  Val seemed to study the floor. “I’ve invited a girl I work with to come and live with us.” She looked at Addy. “She’s a new Christian who no longer wants to live with her boyfriend. She wants to live for the Lord, but she has nowhere to go, and something in my heart just told me to tell her she could move in. We’ll just have to figure out the room arrangements. It will be crowded, but I know it will be fine. . . .”

  Addy fell onto the couch. Her stomach seemed to sense its opportunity to add to the commotion of her heart and mind, as it growled loudly. Ever since she had opened the mailbox and retrieved the letter, her entire world had turned upside down. God, this has got to be some warped dream that I’ll soon wake up from.

  ❧

  I cannot believe I am lugging this stuff into my old bedroom. Addy released the handle of the suitcase and allowed the overweighted container to fall over with a thud. Sighing, she flopped onto her bed. The mattress squeaked in protest, as it did every time she visited when she was in from college and all the while she had it through high school. She scrunched her nose at the inevitable loss of sleep she’d endure over the next few months. I should have told Mom I wouldn’t come back without them buying me a new mattress. You never know, she might have gone for it.

  She stared up at the stucco ceiling. “Just a few months,” she whispered. “I can make it that long.” Reality weighed on her as she realized her time at home was indefinite. Val had tried to hide her thrill when Addy shared that her mom wanted her to move back to River Run. In her heart, Addy knew Val wasn’t trying to get rid of her as a roommate; Val was just excited to help out the girl from work. And yet, Addy couldn’t quite lick the feelings of betrayal that hovered over her that her college friend would be willing to let Addy move out so easily. And so quickly. Addy huffed, lifted herself to a sitting position, then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Val was even eager to help me pack.”

  Trying to clear her thoughts of the pity party that was forming in her mind, Addy gazed around the room she’d spent the first eighteen years of her life growing up in. The walls were the same light purple that she’d painted them at the age of fourteen. A dead corsage still hung behind a picture of her double date with the high school’s basketball star and her best friend, Gracie, and her boyfriend for junior prom. The left side of her mouth twitched in merriment as she remembered spilling half of her soft drink in her date’s lap. He never asked me out again. Not that I cared. I was too wrapped up in my crush on. . .

  She shook the thought away and shifted her gaze to the dresser. She drank in her teddy bear knickknacks and the various movie ticket stubs that she’d taped to her mirror. Her gaze moved to the deep pink curtains then the bookshelf filled with furnishing and design magazines. Aside from the antique, hand-sewn wedding ring quilt her grandmother had made that still rested on her bed, Addy was fully appalled at her interior taste during her teen years. But she couldn’t deny the nostalgia the room incited. If I can find time, I’ll make this room my first project.

  “Addy, when you get settled in, will you come down here so I can talk with you?” Aunt Becky’s voice sounded from downstairs.

  Addy stared at the oversize suitcase. She wasn’t in the mood to tackle unpacking. Pushing herself off the bed, she called, “I’m coming now, Aunt Becky.”

  Addy made her way down the steps and into the family room. Her mother had a bit of a fetish for turtles and angels. An odd combination, Addy had to admit, and yet, porcelain, ceramic, wooden, stuffed, even plastic objects of the two nearly took over the family room. Her classmates from college would collapse in shock and despair if they saw her parents’ house, but Addy couldn’t deny a certain comfort, a kind of coming-homeness from the tacky decor.

  W
ishing she’d grabbed a pair of socks before traipsing across the wood floors, Addy scooped an angel afghan off her dad’s oversize black leather recliner, sat on the couch, then wrapped the blanket around her cold feet. “So, whatcha need?”

  Her aunt looked at her and smirked. “I’m glad I wasn’t going to ask you to get me a drink or anything.”

  “Oh.” Addy pushed the blanket off and started to stand.

  Her aunt held out her hand to stop her. “I’m only teasing you. I wanted to go over my cleaning schedule with you.”

  Addy settled back onto the couch, holding back a tentative moan. She wasn’t the biggest fan of cleaning. Sure, she liked things when they were clean, but the actual process. . . Yuck. And the thought of having to clean Nick’s house again—it sent shivers up and down her spine. She had hardly laid eyes on the man since she was a senior in high school, and that had taken some pretty serious finagling on her part. Especially since the guy was one of her brother’s best friends and had attended the same hometown church since her birth.

  Grabbing a pad of paper and pen from the basket beside the couch, Addy looked at her aunt. Despite the gray hair, the woman looked quite young for her age. Few wrinkles. Bright blue eyes. Addy hoped she looked as fit as her aunt Becky when she was sixty. If it weren’t for the cast on her right arm, there would be absolutely no reason for Addy to be here. But she was here, and since she was needed, she needed to stop daydreaming and focus. “Okay, Aunt Becky, hit me with the schedule.”

  Her aunt chuckled. “I don’t want to hit you with it, but I’ll be happy to tell you. But since you insist on my hitting you”—her aunt tossed a throw pillow in Addy’s direction—“how’s this?”

  Addy ducked before the pillow could hit her then pursed her lips at her aunt’s teasing. “You knew what I meant, Aunt Becky. If it weren’t for your wrist, this would be war.”

  Addy leaned back into the couch as Becky cackled and waved her left hand. “That was fun, but on to the business at hand. I go to the Morgans on Mondays, but you need to know they have a dog that isn’t partial to strangers. You’ll have to take a stick of beef jerky with you the first time. After that, he’ll be your best friend. Now, after I finish at their house on Mondays, I always go to the store for your mother. I’ll still want to go, so I’ll want you to pick me up after you finish at the Morgans’. I go to Nick Martin’s house on Tuesdays. . . .”