Hope Between the Pages by Pepper Basham (ebook reader for surface pro .txt) 📕

the distance, his presence resurrecting all sorts of warning vibes in her stomach. He nodded at Max before addressing Clara. “I came to see how your mother was doing, but I hear things are better.”

“Yes. She’s much improved.” Clara forced a smile, every impulse screaming for her to ignore the man, and then turned to Max. “Uncle Julian, this is my…”

What to call him? She hadn’t thought about him as anything other than…Max. She looked up at him for help and, with a twinkle in his eyes and a half-shrug, he offered his hand to Julian. “Clara’s boyfriend.”

Her eyes drifted closed from the sheer delight coursing through her. Who needed ruby red slippers with such a man!

“Pleasure.” Though Julian’s intonation didn’t hold one ounce of pleasure. He turned to Clara. “Well, since you have company I won’t stay any longer, but I hope we can finish our conversation about the bookshop next week. After Christmas?”

Clara stood a little taller. “I feel certain we’ll be able to bring this little misunderstanding to a close.”

With that, he turned and slunk away…or at least that’s what it looked like to Clara.

“I’m certainly glad he’s not your only family member.” Max grimaced, his attention on Julian’s retreating form.

“Right?” Clara shook her head. “And his son is nothing like him. You’ll love Robbie.”

She ran a palm over her face and suddenly felt Max’s hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Being here is more than I could have imagined.” She took his hand and then laughed as reality dawned. “You’re here!”

“I’m here,” he repeated, one brow arching.

“That means you can meet Mom!” She tugged him a step forward. “She’s awake right now.”

His attention swung back to her face. “I don’t…don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding. This will make her day.” She pulled him forward another step. “Really, Max. You could make two ladies’ days for the price of one. Besides, she’ll definitely want to meet my boyfriend.”

His grin inched wide, creasing the corners of his eyes. “Well then, let’s go meet your mum.”

“You came all this way?” Mom repeated for the third time, staring at Max with the same kind of awed expression Clara must have worn about fifteen minutes earlier. Mom looked over at Clara, her expression hiding nothing. “That says so much about you.”

Clara rolled her eyes but couldn’t tame her grin.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mrs. Blackwell.” Max stepped forward, somewhat hesitantly, likely gauging how his appearance might impact Mom, but she only beamed up at him as if he wore a suit of armor.

“No Mrs. Blackwell.” She waved away his formality. “You must call me Eleanor.” Her gaze slipped to Clara again. “Because I think we’re all bound to be good friends.”

Heat clung to Clara’s cheeks but she only smiled wider. Why had it taken her being forced to England and then her mom almost dying for her to figure out what living was all about? She shook her head and gestured toward the chair beside her for Max. It didn’t matter. She was beginning to understand now. She looked over at her mom. There was still time.

“Max brought the marriage certificate and some photos to share.”

“I’ve wanted to be a part of this adventure, and now you’ve brought the adventure to me.” Mom adjusted the bedside table closer, her eyes twinkling. “Let’s see what you have for us, dear boy.”

The endearment paused Max’s movements, and he flipped his attention to her a second before continuing. Yep, Mom was already halfway in love with Max. Join the club.

With careful hands, Max produced the marriage certificate. Yellow and curled at the edges, the inked names still shone clear. Oliver Christopher and Sadie Clarice. 18 February 1916. Married a little over a month before Oliver’s death, living together for even less.

“Here’s one of the special discoveries.” Max shifted his gaze from Clara to Mom as he took a small plastic baggie from his duffel and placed it before them.

Clara leaned forward, her fingers slowly reaching toward the old photo.

“Is that…” Mom whispered.

“Oliver and Sadie on their wedding day,” Clara answered, chuckling. “They look so happy.”

“Uncommon for most photographs of that time period,” Max quipped.

Sadie’s lace gown curved down into a V at the front and cinched at the waist with a sash. Her arm linked around Oliver’s and, instead of looking at the camera, they were smiling at each other, almost as if the photographer caught a candid look between the two lovers.

Clara ran a finger down the edge of the bag over the photo, the strange connection to this couple pressing in on her.

“They look like they love each other.”

“Yes, they do,” Mom agreed. She looked over at Clara and the awareness of how much her mother missed Dad rose into Clara’s throat again.

“And Sadie’s letters are here too.” Max raised his bag. “Maggie trusted me with the originals with the distinct understanding that you’d return them after making copies.”

“Of course.” Clara pressed her palm against her smile. “I grew up hearing about Granny Sadie so much, but to read her letters? To see her photo here. It’s like all those stories are finally connecting to this real person.”

“She was such a joyful lady. So hopeful.” Mom touched the edge of the photo. “And she seemed to carry this drive within her to try new things. Unafraid.”

“I wonder if she was always that way?”

Mom shrugged. “I remember once she told your father and me that someone very special to her taught her how to be brave. I wonder if it was Oliver.”

Clara held Max’s stare. He’d introduced her to Maggie and traveled all the way to Asheville, North Carolina, for her. Could the same thing that fueled Max have been Sadie’s too?

Love?

“Clara.” Mom pulled Clara out of Max’s hold. “Would you be kind enough to go to the nurses’ desk and ask for some more ice chips?” Mom’s attention moved from me to Max. “My throat is still dry from that early supper they gave me.”

Clara stared at