With Eyes of Love (Heartsong Presents) Read online

  She has the perfect life…or so she thought

  Barbara Richardson is living a charmed life. Perfect family, beautiful voice, wealthy fiancé. But when she realizes her soon-to-be husband only values her for her pretty face, her life is suddenly in turmoil. Then a handsome young man comes to her rescue when she’s stranded in a storm on Christmas Eve. And the world suddenly seems full of possibilities….

  Unlike her former fiancé, Jackson Judge loves Barbara for everything she is, inside and out. But how could so lovely and talented a woman ever love a scarred monster like him? All he can see, shut away in his room, are his wounds from Pearl Harbor. Jackson finds himself questioning God’s plan, but Barbara knows real love looks deeper than beauty or scars. Eyes of love see straight to the heart.

  That cut on his face and those burns!

  A deep, jagged slash across his eye outlined the angry skin and still shone red. It wouldn’t be long, holed up in his room, and he’d turn into a pale, lifeless hermit, a wasted shell of who he’d been. The other smaller slit that slithered through his upper lip, instead of repulsing her, caused her to dwell on the handsome mouth that had kissed her—that she had kissed back, once so long ago.

  He sure had one huge pity party going on. According to Betty, he hadn’t even given himself a chance to heal on the inside.

  Yet, his eyes had seemed to whisper her name as she moved around the kitchen. Called her so distinctly, she’d whirled around once, expecting to see his lips moving. She saw stone, unyielding and challenging. Barbara longed to catch a glimpse of the same captivating, intense brown eyes that had drawn her in, winked at her, charmed her when she arrived at the Judges’ house more than a year ago. They’d danced with mischief, fresh and arrogant, settling in her heart like a wild horse tamed for only a second. Now the gold flecks warned her not to dare come too close.

  LINDA S. GLAZ

  is a wife, a mother of three and a grandmother of three amazing people. She’s been blessed to have a George Bailey life so far. She has been an air force meteorologist. She’s taught karate and self-defence for 25+ years. She’s directed and sung in church and community theater musicals. When Linda is not writing, she’s an agent for Hartline Literary Agency.

  You are altogether beautiful, my darling;

  there is no flaw in you.

  —Song of Solomon 4:7

  The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched…but are felt in the heart.

  —Helen Keller

  This book is dedicated

  to the two most influential women in my life:

  Barbara (Bunny) Mapes and Betty (Bets) Henry,

  my mother and my aunt, who understood the

  true meaning of friendship and unconditional love.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 1

  Christmas 1940

  Elliott flaunted the ring again with diamonds big enough to jam a downspout. He held Barbara at arm’s length, surveying her in a way that made her stomach roll. “You want to finish college? Whatever for? You’re beautiful, Barbara, and more than smart enough to be my wife.”

  Her eyes snapped open and the vision of Elliott and the vulgar ring disappeared. As she glanced out the car window, Barbara shook her head to clear the memory of their disagreement about her completing her music degree. Oh, well, if he didn’t want her to have a career, she could lead a church choir like her mother. After all, marriage was compromise, and it was what she really wanted, right?

  A small red and white sign caught against the running board, grazing the side of the family’s reliable old Ford. A Burma-Shave sign—I proposed—rode a gust of wind and skipped like a rock across the water. Water?

  She sat up, a shiver of fear running through her. “Dad, where are we?”

  Her father didn’t say a word.

  Leaning over the front seat, doing her best not to awaken her sisters, Barbara eyed his white knuckles digging into the steering wheel of the family car. Water pushed against the undercarriage, sending them first in one direction and then another. Panic shimmied through Barbara’s veins as she stared at the sheets of rain.

  Shifting in her seat, she nudged aside her sister, Abby, all the while pressing her nose against the glass like the kids at the toy store window where she worked weekends. Lightning flashed, and before she could blink, thunder shook the sky. It rumbled through the car and through her. Her heart strummed the message in her ears: This is no toy store.

  “Dad, are we going to be all right? What’s happening?”

  “Barbara, sit back!” He rarely raised his voice, making her realize how serious the situation was.

  Her mother turned in her seat, her mouth tightening into a pencil-thin streak across her face. “Don’t disturb your father.”

  Barbara wriggled back between her two sleeping sisters. Assuming control, she draped an arm around each of her younger siblings and pulled them close. Their steady breathing reminded her to remain calm and not frighten them with her own insecurities. That wasn’t easy when fear prickled so expertly along her spine.

  Why had they decided to stop for breakfast? Now the buckwheat pancakes rested like thick maple sludge in the pit of her stomach. If only they had stayed on the main road for the last leg of their trip when they had left Georgia and crossed into Tennessee, they would be well ahead of the storm and well on their way back to New Castle, Indiana. Water wouldn’t be threatening their lives. Oh, why had Father brought the family on one of his “adventures” at Christmastime of all times? They’d never get back home in time to celebrate with her aunts.

  Barbara drew in a deep breath, eased it out. She craned her neck around her sister to look out the window.

  After what seemed an interminable spell, a rush of water struck from behind, and the car lurched forward. Her mother screamed. Dot and Abigail jerked awake. Barbara’s arms shot out and grasped the front seat, pitching her sisters forward. Pain jolted her shoulders and she longed to be young again, allowed to cry. But she’d be twenty in one month. Her parents expected her to behave like a woman.

  Dad sucked in his breath. His hand reached across, restraining her mother as the tires dug into something firm. The front wheels gripped, coming to rest on semisolid ground. Ahead, nothing but water for about a hundred feet. To the sides, nothing but water. Behind them, a veritable lake. Yet beyond the flooded section, the ground rose slightly where a town sat on a shallow plateau like a castle surrounded by an enormous menacing moat.

  “What happened?” Abigail cried.

  Dot scrambled over Barbara’s lap to see, her knees gouging into Barbara’s legs. “Are we there yet? Oh, where’d all that water come from?”

  The rear of the car swung, unsettling Barbara’s stomach. “Dad, what was that?”

  He downshifted and inched forward until all the tires caught and the car stopped on a rise. The frightful rocking motion eased. “It’s all right. I think we’ll be safe now.” He let out a breath he must have been holding a long time. “I’m not sure how we got caught in the spillover from that tributary.” With a shake of his head, his mustache twitched at the edges. “The storm came up so quickly. But I’m mighty grateful for being here...safe at last.”

  Barbara trembled. “Where ar
e we?”

  “I see a few buildings ahead. New Hope, Tennessee, is on the map—small town just off Lake Nickajack. Storms overflowed her, I guess, or maybe a dam broke and the water pushed us up here. Whatever delivered us to this spot, we’ll stay in the car for now and be grateful.” And undoubtedly meant only for himself, he mumbled, “Dear Lord, let’s hope so. Please keep us safe.”

  He mopped sweat from his forehead to the back of his neck, smashing his hair against his scalp. When he locked eyes with Barbara in the mirror, he broached a smile. “Sorry to have scared you girls.”

  Barbara stiffened her spine and hugged Dot closer. “Oh, I wasn’t scared.” Much.

  He leaned his arm onto the seat and looked over at their mother. He had to see what Barbara saw—Mama hunched over and frozen in place, clutching the car door. “Listen, here’s an idea. If you all stay in the car, I’ll try and wade through this, see if there’s a dry place to spend the night.”

  “You...are...not...get...ting out.” With her head a flurry of shakes, Mama spoke the same way she addressed the girls when she gave way to anger, which wasn’t often.

  “You’re right, Mary. The water’s too high. Best we wait right here for Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders.” His lips tipped at the edges, but no one laughed.

  * * *

  Jackson staggered through the water and tapped on the car window.

  In the driver’s seat sat an older man, disheveled and with panic defining his face, who turned his head at the noise, staring wide-eyed. “What?” Slowly he cranked down the glass.

  “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to alarm you.”

  “S’all right. Who are you?” His gaze stretched from Jackson to the blanket of water. “How did you get here?”

  Jackson nodded up ahead. “If you’ll help me pull that rowboat closer, we can get your family into town. It’s drier the farther you go.” He tugged at the end of a rope and the small craft bobbed. “Good thing you found this rise. I watched a car slide away not ten minutes before I spotted you.”

  A woman leaned across the seat, resting a shaky hand on the ledge of the door. “Are the people all right?”

  Jackson nodded and dipped his head to her level. “Ma’am. Some fellas are working to get those folks out now. South area was hit the hardest. A small dam broke. That’s probably what pushed your car here.” He pointed ahead of them. “Town sits up away from the flood plain and the water’s not so deep. You folks hit the worst of the overflow, but seems like that worked in your favor.” He leaned against the car and saw the fearful expressions coming from the faces in the backseat. With a lighthearted glance, he smiled and winked at the three girls through the window.

  The biggest one’s cheeks flamed red and her back squared like a soldier’s. His mom always said a smile could put anxiety to rest.

  The girl lifted her nose high.

  Or maybe not.

  Having twisted her head away from his gaze, she leaned into the front seat where her mother wore a frown. Jackson had no clue how to put this family at ease. He had to get Little-Miss-What’s-Her-Name and the rest of the family to safe, dry ground before the water shifted their car again.

  * * *

  Flirting? Barbara shook her head.

  “Girls? Are you all right?” her mother asked.

  Reminded to help and not hinder, Barbara’s newly found courage told her that she should try and offer comfort, though she could use a dose herself. “We’re fine, Mama. Honestly. Aren’t we, girls?” Her glance skipped to the reddish-blond curls atop Dot’s head and the honey-colored waves of Abigail’s, mushed from sleeping so long. Not a word crept through their tight lips.

  From the corner of her eye, Barbara stole another peek at the man speaking to her father.

  His firm grip on her dad’s arm and his reassuring words offered hope. The man’s energy and strength were apparent as the thick muscles bulged in his neck when he moved.

  Another glance in his direction confirmed what she had observed when he had gaped in the window at her. He had the biggest, brownest eyes she’d ever seen on a man. Solid, that’s what her father would say.

  She sighed. No, dreamy.

  Closing her own eyes for a moment, Elliott’s handsome face reappeared, replacing that of the stranger. In her imagination, Elliott’s arms surrounded her. Offered her security.

  From the time she was a little girl, all she’d wanted out of life was a husband, lots of babies and a chance to sing. She pictured the red and white sign again. I proposed. In two more days, she would accept an engagement ring from her handsome beau, Elliott. His parents, the very well-off VanDusens, had planned a huge party for the day after Christmas.

  A voice interrupted her. “Miss, I said your father wants you to help him.”

  Barbara cleared her head. She couldn’t think about parties right now. Her lids opened wide, and leaning out the window, she focused on Dad. “Did you call me?”

  He turned, inquiring. “What do you think, Barbara? Would you mind?”

  The stranger didn’t give her the chance to answer. “I’ll remain with one of the girls if you want to get your wife into town, or I can get them to town and come back. We can’t all go at once.”

  Mama spoke with her let’s-get-something-straight voice. “None of the girls will be left behind. Leave me for last.”

  Dad bent down, patted the hand she’d kept on the window’s edge. “Mary, I have to make sure you all are settled. You can’t stay because you’ll have to take charge of the younger girls in town. Barbara Ruth is hardly a baby. She can be left alone, the girls can’t.”

  “But she—”

  “Mary, it’s the only way. I’ll come right back. Please, don’t make this more difficult.” He gestured toward the man. “He’ll see to Barbara.”

  The man slipped his wool cap off and rifled fingers through hair plastered to his head with rain. “Ma’am. I’d be happy to—”

  “Mama?” Barbara saw growing frustration about to nix any plans of rescue. “I’ll be all right. You and Dad get the girls into town.” She tried to smile even though she didn’t feel all that happy with the decision. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry.” She offered a small chuckle and wave of her arms. “Where else can I go?”

  Her father slapped his hands together. “Then let’s do this. I’ll take the first batch and come back for you two.” But worry covered his face.

  The stranger turned to him. “Sir?”

  “Thomas Richardson’s the name.”

  “I could take them while you waited.”

  “No. I need to find accommodations. Anyway, allow your arms to rest. Once I have the ladies settled, I’ll return.”

  Abigail, fourteen, sat straighter. “I’m hardly young, Fah-ther.” Her eyes sparkled at the stranger.

  “True, but only Barbara will stay.”

  Abigail huffed in disappointment.

  “You’ll have to make do with the paddle, Mr. Richardson.” The man indicated a sad, worn piece of wood. “That’s all I could find. There’s a pole in the bottom of the boat if you get stuck.”

  Barbara cranked the window down the rest of the way. Her father’s face tightened. He whispered close to her ear. “You’ll be fine, Barbara Ruth. This young man’s going to stay by the car.”

  He was upset. The only times he ever called her Barbara Ruth were when he was angry or frightened. His normal nickname for her to this day was Bunny.

  “Don’t worry about me.” She had to work at being convincing.

  “All right. Time’s awastin’.” Her father sounded confident, but his face revealed otherwise. She’d seen that same look when she had overheard him telling her mother how he had to fire one of VanDusen’s employees for stealing.

  A glance over her shoulder and twinges returned to Barbara’s stomach. Left alone with a total stranger and a fresh one at that. Well, she had no interest in his admirable stature, his deep, warm voice, his winks or his big brown eyes.

  * * *

  The famil
y gone, Jackson stood guard at the edge of the car to prevent the wheels from sliding. With town just in front of them, they’d arrive in no time, but Mr. Richardson only had one paddle, and then he needed to locate a place for them. And he’d admitted to driving all day. His arms must be plenty sore already.

  Four families, so far, had nearly vanished in the swell of water. All afternoon Jackson and two friends had pulled folks out. Now the muscles in his arms cramped against the cold. Grabbing the edge of the window frame, he stretched the kinks from his shoulders and neck. A glance in the window told him the girl was mortified to be left alone with him. And he’d winked at her.

  He glanced again through the window as she looked up. Her eyes widened and, once again, she spun away.

  Jackson groaned. If he hadn’t stopped this last time, he could be home with a cup of strong, hot coffee in his hand while eating biscuits and honey. But then, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself. What man could stand by and watch a car go under? His stomach rumbled and reminded him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He licked his lips, anxious for the boat’s return.

  She stirred.

  A light tap on the window brought no response. Only her stiff back. Didn’t she realize he wanted to help? Women.

  A slight shift drew his attention to the back fender. The car had slipped ever so slightly to the left. Jackson sprinted to the rear pressing his back into the wheel well. He wouldn’t allow her to get hurt. His boots dug in as he pushed with all his might. Sweat coated his underarms despite the cold. He counted to three, stiffening the muscles in his legs, and shoved hard.

  He heard the side door crack open and he glanced around. Barbara What’s-Her-Name stuck her head out.

  “Get inside!”

  Her frightened voice sliced through the moist air. “What happened?”

  “Not now!” One foot slid into the water, but the other held. One...two...three. Give it everything, Jack! One last lunge and the car inched forward again. He rose from the murky ground and made his way around the side.

  Before he could pass the back door, it opened wide. Straight into his gut. He slipped on the slimy ground and slid into the water. Sludge draped over his legs like heavy canvas. He struggled to stand, dripping with mud, and fumed. Swell!