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A Harvest of Blessings

By June Foster

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But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Matthew 6:33


Chapter One


Though the June sun warmed Nadia Maguire's face, she shivered then tilted her head upward to the lofty oaks. Why weren't the birds chattering? The deadly quiet surrounding the immaculate grounds of Oak Mountain Memorial Cemetery tied her stomach into thorny barbs.
If not for Jon's name, etched into the granite headstone, she'd deny her husband had been laid to rest six months prior. He'd played tennis, jogged every weekend, and belonged to every social club in town. Then he was gone.
A gentle breeze pulled a strand of hair into Nadia’s face. She tucked it behind her ear, unable to relish in the sunny days of her favorite season. At least she wouldn't have to face her active third graders for the next three months.
The granite structure marking Jon's grave stood as a lonely reminder of his final day on earth. The day last December when the phone rang and the Oak Mountain chief of police grimly told her Jon was dead. He hadn't survived a one-car accident shortly after midnight.
Before the uncomfortable memories could continue to bully her mind, she rose from the concrete bench and took the four steps toward the grave. She knelt and traced the imprinted words with her finger. Husband to Nadia. Loving father to David. Active in civic affairs.
Active all right. Jon belonged to every charitable organization in town and spent almost every night at meetings. He gave of himself to everyone. To everyone but her and David.
A blackbird squawked in the elm tree overhead sending a shiver to her spine. When the Sons of the South, one of Jon's clubs, provided the headstone, she hadn't thought about the epitaph. If they'd asked her, she would've offered a different message. Though their contribution alleviated a small part of the funeral cost, the rest depleted her savings.
Nadia lifted her gaze skyward to the puffy, white clouds floating above. If only she'd had a marriage like Mama and Daddy.
She flicked away the tear. Not from grief but of frustration. She should miss him. She didn't.
Six months hadn't been enough time. "I promise, Lord. I will forgive him. Help me in my bitterness," Nadia whispered.
Talking to God brought perspective. She rose, stepped backward a few steps, eyes on the imposing head stone, and lowered to the seat she'd occupied only moments ago.
"Oh, pardon me." A man said.
Instead of the cold stone, her body met the firm, warm flesh of another. Nadia shrieked and jumped up, twirling around to see whose lap she'd sat on.
A tall, muscular man with light blue eyes and graying salt and pepper hair bolted from his perch on the bench.
Nadia's shaking hand gripped the base of her throat. "I'm so sorry. Visiting my husband's grave. Thought I was alone."
"No, please forgive me." The handsome man ran a hand through his short hair. "My wife's grave is over there." He pointed to the left. "I was lost in my memories."
Though Nadia's cheeks burned hot, the man's kind expression said he understood. "The fault is mine."
The middle-aged guy, a light covering of whiskers on his face, shuffled from one foot to the other. Then he chuckled. "Actually, I can't complain. It's not every day a good-looking woman sits on my lap."
Whoa. Was this guy flirting with her? Well, she wanted nothing to do with it. Or maybe he was merely trying to make light of the situation.
He stuck out his hand. "I'm Jared Abrams." He nodded to the grave marker several plots down from Jon's. "My wife's been dead four years now. I try to visit her once every week or so."
"Nadia Maguire." She shook his hand. This time the summer sun delivered comfortable warmth to her skin. "I'm so sorry. How did you lose her?"
"She died of cervical cancer. When we discovered the disease, it was too late. My two daughters still struggle with their mother's absence. Especially my oldest, Sarah. She's never come to terms with Grace's death." He scratched the back of his neck. "What about you? How long has your husband been gone?"
"He died last year." Saying the words only reminded her once more of the horrific day.
"I hope he didn't suffer as Grace did." His light blue eyes shined with compassion. A trait Jon had never possessed.
"No." Nadia glanced to Jon's gravestone again. "An auto accident." She wouldn't mention the report the coroner provided indicating the evidence of alcohol in her husband's bloodstream. Enough to declare him intoxicated.
"That's tough."
"Yeah." Jared didn't know the half of it. "My son, David, had a hard time like your daughter. He's in the army stationed in Germany now. I think the distance helps soothe the wounds." She turned toward her car. "I need to get going. I'm in the middle of doing some home repairs." In reality, attempting to figure out which project she had the means to tackle—after years of Jon's neglect. And his lies about where he'd been—and the misrepresentations of their monetary situation. She pasted a smile on her face.
"Hope to see you the next time we visit the graveyard." His laugh seemed to echo through the surrounding trees.
Part of her twisted heart unraveled as she memorized Jared's handsome face. A man who spoke of his daughter with such concern, a man who visited his wife every week. She straightened her shoulders and made her way to the parking lot to her ten-year-old Toyota. Another disappointment. Jon had promised to get her a better car, but he never did, and he controlled their finances.
She opened the passenger door then allowed her gaze to travel over the car to the man kneeling beside the grave marker. If she ever took a chance on someone again, he would be like she imagined Jared to be.
She plopped down into the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Maybe Jared wasn't as nice as he seemed. Maybe he was an egotist like Jon.

*****

The granite markers representing Oak Mountain's population of years gone by were nothing like the Arlington National Cemetery where Jared had visited with its even, symmetrical rows. Oak Mountain's little graveyard—typical of their small Alabama town with the various headstones and plots in random fashion, served their county well.
He missed Grace. No one could ever replace her. After all, they'd shared a life for many years, and she was the mother of his daughters. But he'd finally concluded: four years was long enough to be alone.
Jared didn't want to stare but couldn't resist watching the woman make her way along the main path that led through two rows of graves to the parking lot. Premature gray hair, almost white, framed the smooth skin of her face and her lovely blue eyes, the color of the summer sky. Eyes which held an emotion he couldn't pinpoint. Pain, disappointment? Her sorrow seemed to emanate from somewhere other than grief for her deceased husband. Had her marriage been as good as his? Or did hurt lurk below the surface?
He gave himself a mental kick in the pants. He turned from Grace's cold, lifeless slab and wandered to the bench again. Of course, the woman would wear regret on her face. She'd only lost a husband last year. What did he expect? For her to jump up and down and rejoice?
Funny. He didn't remember seeing the shapely woman around town before. He imagined her much different from the women he'd dated in the last several years, the executives who held high-level jobs in Huntsville's scientific community.
Jared stood and slowly walked to his Lexus in the parking lot. He could work out at the gym or play racquetball. One nice thing about banking. The proverbial bankers' hours with lots of time in between was true of him.
After clicking the locks on his new car, he slid in. He hadn't seen what kind of vehicle Nadia drove. Otherwise, he'd be on the lookout for it around town. Maybe he'd get a chance to have coffee with her one day.
He blew out a stream of air as he turned the key. Casual dates with professional women were fine, but the widow he'd only met a half hour ago—a different story. She seemed like the type of person he could consider a friend—or perhaps more. Yet Sarah would likely protest against any female companion he dared to introduce to her and her sister. 

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