Meet Me at the Chapel by Joanna Sims Read Free Book Online Page A

she was meant to do.
    Brock was on the roof repairing shingles when he heard the distinctive sound of an old school VW coming up the drive.
    Casey .
    He stood upright, wiped the sweat off his neck with the bandana from his back pocket and then stared at the end of the driveway, waiting to catch the first glimpse of Casey as she arrived. He had seen her once over the last week, briefly, when he had picked up her trunk from her sister’s house and brought it back to the ranch. He didn’t understand it, really, but he had actually missed her. He had missed her. And, perhaps even more important, Hannah had missed her, too.
    He waved his hand in the air so she would see him. At the same time Casey was waving her hand out the driver’s window, Brock heard the slam of the screen door and the pounding of his daughter’s feet on the wood planks of the porch. Hannah had been hyped up all day in anticipation of Casey’s arrival. Right behind Hannah was Lady, barking and wagging her tail.
    Normally, he didn’t like to have a job interrupted once he started, but now seemed like a good time to take a break. He climbed down the ladder and followed his daughter and dog to where Casey had parked her car.
    â€œDon’t strangle her, Hannah.” Brock laughed at how tightly Hannah was hugging Casey around the neck.
    Brock watched as Casey made a fuss over his daughter, and then squatted down to hug Lady. A flush of excitement and happiness had turned her pale skin a pretty shade of light pink. In the sunlight, the reddish freckles on her face and the red of her thick hair pulled back into a ponytail were so striking. And then there were her eyes. So wide and so green—he always had to remind himself not to stare.
    â€œYou’ve really put a dent in it!” Casey said about the progress he had made with the cleanup.
    â€œI’ve been hammering away at it. Little by little.” Brock was glad that it was his turn to greet Casey.
    She smiled at him with that open, friendly smile of hers. It had been an awfully long time since a woman had smiled at him like that—no reservation, no pretense or judgment, just open and friendly. That smile was a magnet for him and he realized that now—by the simple fact that he was standing down here instead of still working up on the roof.
    â€œDo you want to start getting settled in?”
    â€œAbsolutely.” Casey walked around to the passenger side and got Hercules.
    Hannah was running like a wild child around in circles, her long, tangled curls flying behind her.
    â€œShe’s been like this all morning,” Brock explained. “Usually the medications keep the hyperactivity in check enough for her to function, but not on days like today, when she’s excited about something.”
    â€œI understand,” Casey reassured him.
    That’s when it really sunk in—he didn’t have to explain or justify or apologize for his daughter’s behavior. Casey worked with children with disabilities for a living—she, more than anyone else in his life, would truly understand Hannah. It was a relief to spend time with someone who could understand, and accept, his daughter for who she was, regardless of her behavior—good, bad or indifferent.
    â€œI did warn you that it’s humble,” Brock said as they reached the top of the stairs that lead to the loft apartment above the barn.
    â€œI’ll spruce it up.” Casey didn’t mind humble. And, if it was dirty, there usually wasn’t much that couldn’t be fixed with elbow grease. She’d never been afraid of hard work or of getting dirty.
    Brock opened the door and let her go in first. He was right—the loft apartment with its pitched roof and rough-hewn, wide-planked wooden floor was indeed humble. But the inside of the roof was lined with sweet-smelling cedar, and there was a single bed in one corner of the room, and a small love seat on the other side.