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Amazon KindleApple iBooksBarnes & NobleKoboPaperbackFrom acclaimed author Melissa Storm comes the first in a brand-new series of sweet and wholesome small-town love stories with the community church at its center…
Summer Smith is at a crossroads in life. Fresh out of college with no idea what comes next, she agrees to take over her aunt’s flower shop for the season. She arrives in the small, close-knit community of Sweet Grove, Texas, hoping to find some answers.
Ben Davis has lived in the shadow of his family’s mistakes for years. Forced to give up everything he ever wanted for himself, he begins to consider taking his own life in a final effort to end all the pain. A desperate plea sent to the God he isn’t even sure he believes in is soon answered by a series of miracles that bring Summer and Ben crashing into each other.
Love’s Prayer offers a dramatic story about two people who must find a way to believe in each other and in themselves in order to finally find the place where they belong. This novel of finding faith, hope, and—ultimately—love in the darkest of times is sure to tug at your heartstrings and leave you craving more from the First Street Church Romances!
Chapter
1
Ben
Davis had once believed in God. He had once believed in miracles,
fate, divine intervention, and all the similar lies people told
themselves to get through the day. Perhaps if he still believed, he
wouldn’t find himself so tempted to stay in bed all day, to never
get up—not even to eat—and to eventually die a slow, private
death in the only place that still offered him any comfort at all.
On
this day, a Thursday, he spent longer than usual blinking up at the
ceiling and wondering if he should just end it all with a swift
bullet to the brain. After all, that’s what his older brother
Stephen had done roughly five years ago. He’d wandered off into the
town square and shot himself clean in the face for all of Sweet Grove
to see. People were still talking about it to this day, and those who
didn’t speak of it were most definitely thinking of it.
Like
his mother. She waded through the memories, attempting to silence
them with the bottle. But even though the liquor often ran out, her
grief remained endless, unquenchable.
Ben
wasn’t saddened by the loss of his brother. Even though he
sometimes felt as if he should be. No, he was angry—his rage
another unquenchable commodity in the Davis household. Stephen had
selfishly chosen to end it all. He’d hurled his issues straight at
Ben who, ever since that day, had been tasked with paying the
mortgage, tending to their mother who had spiraled down the dark path
of addiction, and without an outlet to enjoy any of the things he had
spent years working toward and hoping for.
He’d
turned down his full-ride scholarship to college because he needed to
take care of things here in Sweet Grove—things that only got worse
the more his mother was left to grapple with her grief. Recovery
remained a summit she just couldn’t reach, no matter how hard she
climbed. So he’d turned the university down year after year, and
eventually the admissions board had just stopped asking.
Which
left him here today, staring up at the popcorn ceiling above his
twin-sized bed, no longer bothering to wonder if life could ever be
any different. At 6:12, he placed one foot after another onto the
shaggy carpet below and went to clean up for work. At 6:25, he was
out the door with a piece of half-cooked toast in one hand and a
banana in the other. He had five minutes to make the short walk from
the quaint—and “quaint” was putting it kindly—home he shared
with his mother to the local market where he worked as a bagger and
delivery boy. Yes, even his job title suggested a more temporary
arrangement, a job better suited to a boy than the man he had
become—although only just barely. And he still worked here.
“Good
morning!” sang his boss Maisie Bryant as he tromped through the
sliding glass doors. Each morning she arranged a fresh display of
local produce and other seasonal specialties right at the front of
the shop. As always, she took great pride in her work.
Ben
hated that his boss was only a couple years older than him. Maisie
had managed to escape town long enough to earn a degree before coming
back to run her family’s grocery store. While he didn’t know the
exact numbers, he could bet that the youngest Bryant child made at
least triple what he did for the same day’s work. But that was life
for you—or at least for Ben. Never fair, not in the least.
“Don’t
I get a hello?” Maisie teased him as always. Some days he liked her
chipper demeanor. This was not one of those days.
“Hi,”
he mumbled. “I’m going to go check the stock. See you in a bit.”
“Wait,”
she called before he could manage to make his escape. “I’ll
handle the stock. The staff over at Maple’s called, and they need a
delivery first thing. Think you can handle that? The purchase order
is on the clock desk.”
“Yeah,
I got it.”
Ben
hurried to put the order together and load up the designated Sweet
Grove Market truck. A smiling red apple beamed from the side of the
cargo hold. He hated that thing, but he did like having the
opportunity to drive around a little, let the wind wash over him as
he rolled about town. It sure beat walking everywhere, and since it
offered his only opportunity to get behind the wheel, he relished
every chance he got. Occasionally, Maisie would let him borrow the
truck to head into the next town over and lose himself in the sea of
unfamiliar faces.
He’d
once loved living in the type of place where everyone knew everyone
and everyone looked out for everyone, but he hated how people who had
once been his friends had begun to pity him. Ever since Stephen’s
death, they couldn’t even look at him without betraying that
sadness. Ben had become a reminder of how fragile life could be, of
how everything could go to hell in the briefest of moments. And
though their words were kind and their smiles were omnipresent, Ben
knew better. He knew that he’d become a burden to them all, that
his presence brought them sorrow.
At
first he’d tried to redirect them, to speak of
something—anything—else, but after a while he just grew tired. It
was easier to avoid them than to constantly have to apologize for the
blight his terrible, selfish brother had brought onto their town.
He’d have left if he could. Rather by vehicle or bullet, it didn’t
matter.
But
his mother needed him. And as small and insignificant as it seemed,
so did Maisie.
So
he remained, day after day.
And
so began another dark morning for Ben Davis.
***
Summer
Smith arrived in Sweet Grove right around that awkward time of day
when the sun was starting to set and ended up in her eyes no matter
how hard she tried to look away. She loved sunshine, which is why
she’d jumped at the chance to attend college in California, but now
those four years had reached their conclusion and had left Summer
more confused than ever about her future.
Thank
goodness her Auntie Iris needed her to run the Morning Glory shop for
the season. She was jetting off on some fancy cruise she’d been
saving up for half her adult life. True, that didn’t speak well of
the money to be earned operating a small town florist’s, but then
again, Summer had never been much taken with flowers anyhow.
The
problem remained that she’d never really been much taken with
anything in life. And now that she’d reached that pivotal stage of
needing to pick a career and finally set down roots, she was
hopelessly lost. Two months, one week, and three days—that’s how
much time she had to figure it out. At that point, Auntie Iris would
return from her sail around the world and be ready to take back her
shop and home. So for the next two months and some-odd days, Summer
would be living a borrowed life. Luckily, she’d always liked her
Aunt Iris.
The
old spinster greeted her at the door wearing a brightly colored
blouse with leaf fronds printed along the neckline, and with freshly
dyed hair that still smelled of chemicals. “Oh, there’s my Sunny
Summer!” she cooed.
Summer
laughed as her aunt hopped up and down, still holding her tight. The
hug probably could have lasted for days if a loud screeching hadn’t
erupted from deep within the small ranch house.
Iris
let go of her niece and breezed through the doorway, dragging the
smaller of Summer’s suitcases behind her. “Oh, enough, Sunny
Sunshine!” she called, leaving Summer to wonder if her aunt affixed
Sunny to the start of everyone’s name these days.
The
shrieking continued, growing louder as they made their way back
toward the living room. There, in the far corner beside the small
stone fireplace, sat a large iron cage with a colorful blur of
feathers which screamed its lungs out.
Iris
rushed over and unlatched the cage, then drew out the little bird on
a delicately poised finger. “Now that’s not how you make a good
first impression. Is it, Sunny?”
The
bird ruffled its feathers like a little marigold flower then shook
itself out.
Iris
laughed. “Much better. Now meet Summer.” She puckered her lips
and blew a stream of air at the little bird, who made a happy
bubble-like noise. Iris then offered the parrot to Summer who took a
giant leap back.
“I-I
just… You didn’t say anything about a bird!”
“Oh,
Sunny won’t be any bother. Besides, you’ll be grateful for the
company once you’re settled in and looking for a bit of fun.”
“I
tend to prefer the company of humans.”
“Sunny
is the human-est bird you will ever meet. Aren’t you, my baby?”
She placed the little Conure on her shoulder and he immediately
burrowed below the neckline of her blouse and stuck his head back up
through the hole, making Iris look like a strange two-headed monster.
Summer had to admit that Sunny was cute. Maybe she and the
bird could come to some kind of agreement during their months
together.
Iris—bird
in tow—showed Summer around the house, pointing out which plants
needed to be watered when and taking extra care when it came to
describing the needs of her little feathered friend.
“Is
that it?” Summer asked when the two had settled onto the loveseat
following the grand tour.
“Pretty
much. What else do you need to know?”
“How
to run the shop, for one. Also, what am I going to do with myself to
keep busy during the nights?”
“I’ve
written everything down in a big binder and left it for you near the
cash register. Everything in the shop is clearly marked as well.
You’ll use the key with the daisy head to open up shop. Hours are
eight to three. And as for how you’ll keep busy…” Her eyes
flashed as she bit back a Cheshire cat-sized smile. “Life in a
small town is never boring. You’ll see.”
“But,
Auntie Iris, aren’t you worried I’ll mess things up with the
shop?”
Iris
waved a hand dismissively. “You’ll figure things out.”
Summer
wasn’t sure whether her aunt was talking about running the shop or
about life in general. Either way, Summer sure hoped she was right.
