Only Heaven Knows

  By

  Sable Hunter

  With Ryan O’Leary

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Only Heaven Knows

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2017 © Sable Hunter

  Cover by JRA Stevens

  For Down Write Nuts

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher

  What could a rough, tough cowboy and a beautiful ex-nun have in common?

  Not much, but opposites attract.

  Oh, hell yeah, they do.

  Denver Bolden thinks the sun rises and sets in Bryn Harmon’s smile and he’s bound and determined to make her his. Once he’s tasted her kiss, he can think of little else. The woman is a fascinating mix of innocence and sensuality. Wooing her becomes his obsession and the passion they share is something he’s unwilling to give up.

  Regardless of the cost.

  As secrets are revealed and mysteries arise, it seems their chance at love might slip away.

  Could a miracle bring them together?

  Only heaven knows.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  About the Author:

  Visit Sable:

  SABLE’S BOOKS

  CHAPTER ONE

  “A new woman, that’s what I have to become.” Bryn knelt by her bed and folded the worn nun’s habit and placed it slowly into the box along with all her hopes and dreams. “A new life. A new outlook. A new me.” She let out a long sigh. “Although, heaven only knows what this new me will be like.”

  When one way of doing things doesn’t work, Brianna Marie, you don’t give up! You try something else, you keep going until you succeed.

  In her mind, Bryn could hear the stern voice of Sister Mary Estelle, pushing her to ‘keep on keeping on’ as she would say. Just because you’re different, doesn’t mean you can’t fit in and be somebody. God doesn’t make mistakes. He made you for a purpose, you must open yourself up to Him and listen to His voice. He’ll reveal all you need to know when the time is right.

  As she sat back on her heels and stared out the window at the swaying branches of the oak tree, Bryn wondered about those things Sister Mary Estelle had taught her. “God doesn’t make mistakes, huh?” she muttered in a dubious tone. “Well, we’ll see.” She laughed, Sister Mary Estelle had been fond of that phrase also. Anytime Bryn asked to do something a little different from the norm, the answer was always ‘we’ll see’, which usually amounted to a ‘no’.

  May I fly a kite, Sister?

  We’ll see.

  Do you think I could try one of those pinball games that make all those weird noises?

  We’ll see.

  Can I try cotton candy?

  We’ll see.

  Would you take me to see a movie?

  No!

  Bryn giggled. She’d always been one to push the envelope. Bryn hadn’t been able to do any of the things she’d asked to do, but it wasn’t Sister’s fault, those were just the rules of the convent. Rules Bryn had been willing to live by. Rules she would’ve followed for the rest of her days.

  If she’d been allowed to stay.

  “Oh well, life goes on.” Bryn rose from the worn, hardwood floor. “I’m here now, I have to make the best of this.” She gazed at the pile of purchases on the bed, feeling a little guilty. Frugality was one of the virtues the Order valued. She’d done her best, buying from Goodwill and the Dollar Store. Still, she needed so much. Everything really.

  Standing at the edge of the bed, Bryn began to examine her new things. A tiny thrill shot through her as she fingered the bargain basement underwear and the reduced for quick sale makeup. She’d never possessed so much before. Starting over was really a huge deal. With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned the utilitarian, faded, blue robe she wore. Beneath it, she was naked. As she pushed the garment from her shoulders, she folded her arms over her breasts, glancing around shyly. Yes, she was alone and very grateful to Sister Mary Estelle for leaving her this old home in her will. If she hadn’t been named to inherit her friend’s estate, Bryn would’ve been left destitute when she was forced to leave Emmaus House.

  All things work together for good for those who love the Lord.

  “I hope so, Sister,” Bryn whispered as she remembered another of her mentor’s sayings. “My faith seems to be weak these days.”

  With the tiniest of smiles, she picked up a pair of blue jeans, running her finger over the denim material. This fabric didn’t seem to have much give. “Oh well, let’s see how they fit.” She gathered up an armful of her new goodies, padding barefoot and nude to the adjoining bathroom. “I think I’m going to enjoy all the space. Although, I might get lost in this big house.”

  Standing in front of the mirror, she avoided looking directly at herself. Since moving into Sister’s family home, she hadn’t glanced at her own reflection. Emmaus House didn’t allow mirrors. The only times Bryn could remember seeing her reflection was in a darkened window glass or a pool of water. Even the stainless-steel appliances had been purposely smudged to keep the sisters from vanity.

  With purposeful moves she pulled on a pair of white cotton panties, a plain matching bra, and the blue jeans. Wearing pants was scandalous. Nuns never wore pants. But…she wasn’t a nun anymore. As far as the church was concerned, she was a fallen woman. Not because of anything she did, but because of who or what she was. Easing the pants up her legs and over her hips, she wondered if they would even fit. “My posterior seems to be a bit ample,” she muttered. Before she could think twice, she turned to the side and looked in the mirror. “I knew it, these pants make me look fat.”

  A giggle popped from her lips and she hastily covered her mouth to stem the frivolous noise. “I guess I need to exercise or cut back on the biscuits.”

  Next, she chose a blouse, a very feminine blouse, the one thing she’d chosen strictly because it was pretty. The pale pink material was covered in butterflies and a bit of ornate lace was sewn around the neck. She hadn’t really splurged on the second-hand garment, it only cost two dollars. Yet, Bryn knew her impulse to buy this item lay in longing to be pretty, an urge she’d always fought to suppress. Quickly, she slipped on the top, refraining from checking out how she looked. Glancing down at her hands, she made sure to get the buttons in the right holes. As she did, Bryn couldn’t help noticing how her breasts looked. The material was so thin, she could easily see their shape. “My buds are showing.” She considered changing, but no one would see her anyway. Not today.

  “All right, it’s time. Brace yourself.” If she were going to go out in public, get a job, make friends, and have a life – she needed to be able to look like everyone else. Or at least passable.

  Slowly, Bryn
lifted her face, keeping her eyes shut at first. When she dared open them, she only peered through her lashes. “Huh. Well, I don’t know.” She pulled her bangs up, viewing her face full-on in a well-lit mirror for the first time ever. Her features were ordinary. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Pale skin. Full lips. Straight nose. “Aww, no. I have freckles.” She blew air from her lips like a pony. “Just my luck.” Overall, her appearance didn’t warrant much consideration. She glanced at the makeup she’d purchased, unsure of what to do with most of it. Picking up the lipstick, she decided to try it first. Looking at the end of the tube, she read, “Angel Frost. Sounds harmless enough.” Bryn puckered her lips and applied the shade lightly, then pooched her mouth, making a kissing noise. “Ha!” She giggled at how silly she was. After rummaging through the other items – foundation, mascara, eye shadow, blush – she decided the natural look was best for her. If she kept experimenting, she’d probably end up looking like a clown.

  “Now, for how I smell.” Her hand closed around a small glass bottle of perfume called Beach. The glass was chipped at the bottom, but the fragrance wasn’t leaking. The small crack had gained the scent a spot in the bargain bin. She squinted and sprayed a fine mist on her neck. “Oh, goodness!” she exclaimed and smiled. “It smells like sunshine.” Oh, yea, she liked that. It beat smelling like the disinfectant she used to scrub the floors any old day.

  Her eyes landed on one last item. “Hair dye.” Her hair had never been a mystery to her. She hadn’t cut the length as some novenas did, she’d just kept it balled up and tucked up beneath her veil. At night, she would hold the strands in her hand and wonder if God could’ve come up with a duller color. Brown. “Mousy brown,” is what one Sister had called Bryn’s hair. Dull brown. Drab. “This I can change.” She picked up the box of color. Not permanent color, just temporary.

  “Rich auburn. Sounds daring. Okay, let’s do it.” To save her clothes, she removed her blouse and hung it on a peg behind the door, then she turned on the tap in the sink. As the water warmed, she took out the tube of color and grinned. “To the new me! Bryn Harmon the Brave!”

  * * *

  “I gotta get outta here,” Denver slung back the bed covers and stood up, turning off the alarm. The sun would be up soon, but he couldn’t stay in the bed another minute. His heart was pounding, and cold sweat ran down his face. He jerked on the clothes he’d worn yesterday, anxious to get out of the trailer. Damn anxiety attack. At least, that’s what the doctor called them. Denver knew better. What he was feeling was guilt. Pure and simple.

  He was guilty of being alive while Louis was dead.

  With his breath coming in harsh pants, he pulled on his socks and boots. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to get outside. Maybe he’d be able to breathe outdoors.

  Standing, he jerked on his hat and grabbed his wallet and keys out of habit. Right now, he wasn’t thinking, he was just acting out of a basic need to escape.

  Only there was no escape.

  He might run, but he couldn’t hide from the guilt.

  Bursting out the door of his trailer, he breathed gulps of air into his constricted lungs. Every night was the same. The dreams came, and he relived every stinking minute of the biggest mistake of his life.

  “Come on, Denver, we look just alike. No one will know.”

  “What are you going to buy, squirt?” he asked his little brother, Louis. “Beer? Cheap wine?”

  “I don’t know, we’re gonna put our money together and see what we can get.” Louis pointed over his shoulder. “This is a big night for us. We won the district football game. We want to celebrate.”

  “You’re only seventeen, there’s plenty of time to celebrate.” Denver tried to be the voice of reason, but he knew how his brother felt. Louis wanted to be a man, he wanted to show his friends how cool he could be. “All right. Here.” Fishing his wallet from his back pocket, he removed his driver’s license and gave it to his kid brother. Louis was right, they did look alike. He might be twenty-one, but he didn’t really look it. One of these days he’d grow up. “Don’t do anything stupid, all right?”

  “All right.” Louis grinned, then did something the boys didn’t often do. He hugged Denver. A tight, quick hug. “Thanks, Brother.”

  He’d stood there and watched his little brother and friends run off into the night, ready to party.

  That was the last time Denver saw his brother alive.

  The next day, they’d found Louis passed out drunk. He’d died of alcohol poisoning before they could get him to the hospital.

  Their father had found Denver’s ID on his youngest son. He’d thrown it at Denver and told him to get out of the house. “It’s all your fault!” His mother had screamed at him.

  All his fault. He’d killed his brother and his parents couldn’t forgive him.

  Hell, he understood. Denver couldn’t forgive himself.

  Blindly, he aimed for the barn, just needing to move. To leave. To be in motion. With shaky hands he saddled his horse and mounted up, guiding the animal out into the pre-dawn air. “Giddy-up, girl.” He nudged her in the flanks, giving her free rein. The mare sensed freedom and took off at a full gallop, clearing the five-foot fence with ease.

  For Denver, this was no joy ride. He wasn’t alone on the back of the horse. His own personal demons rode with him.

  “I’ve tried to go on, Louis.” God, how he’d tried.

  After his parents put him out of the house, he’d left Tennessee behind. Texas was his home now. He had a place to live. A good job. He worked for one of the state’s biggest ranches. Tebow. His bosses were good to him. He had a place to live. A good job with opportunities for advancement. He even had friends. Not drinking buddies. Denver seldom drank. As for women, there were those who welcomed him when he needed them. No one in particular. He wasn’t looking for Miss Right. Mainly because, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to live.

  Like now.

  Why should he be here while Louis was dead? His brother should be alive and well. He should be married and have kids by now. Just the thought of the days Louis had missed, lying cold in his grave, days that Denver had lived, or he’d been alive, at least – these missed days haunted Denver’s every waking minute. He couldn’t say he was really living. He was existing. Existing in regret. Remorse. Shame.

  The wind hit his face with a slight sting. The ground was dry, and the wind had picked up a little dust. Denver bowed his head, not caring which way the horse took him. There was nowhere to go and no one out there to welcome him.

  As always, death seemed to beckon. To call his name. He’d gone so far as to bring his pistol out of storage, keeping it by the bed, hoping one day he’d have guts enough to use it.

  Maybe today would be that day. Because living was just too hard.

  Putting on a false, happy front for people was just too difficult. Meaningless. “Why?” he asked as he looked up into the wakening sky. “What good did this do? What god did this appease? What miracle will it take to make me want to go on?”

  Suddenly, his horse bucked and reared. Denver had a hard time holding on. “Easy, Bay, easy.” He stared into the shadows, trying to figure out what had spooked his mount. “Is anyone there?”

  “It’s nobody, just me.”

  The sweet, husky little voice sounded as if she found little need to speak. Denver knew the feeling. “Are you by yourself?”

  “Yes, I’m alone.”

  She moved close enough so Denver could see a delicate, feminine form. “You shouldn’t be so honest to a strange man, honey.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She’d been too cloistered to know all the rules.

  “Don’t be sorry, just remember. You might not be so lucky as to run up on someone as harmless as me next time.” He let his horse sidle to the left, bringing him close enough to make out her face. Heaven help him, she was absolutely beautiful. Denver pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t still back in his lonely bed. “What in the world are you doing out by yourself at this
hour?”

  “Just walking. Thinking.” She looked up at him with a trusting face. “What are you doing out so early, cowboy?”

  “Just riding. Thinking, like you. I’m Denver. Denver Bolden. What’s your name, pretty girl?”

  Pretty girl? “You must need glasses. I’m Bryn Harmon.

  “Oh, I have twenty-twenty vision, Miss Bryn. How far have you walked? Do you live near here?”

  “Not far, just down the road. The McBride place, I think it’s called. I just moved here.”

  Denver dismounted and glanced around, remembering Jacob saying he wanted to find out if the McBride land was for sale. “Oh, yeah. That old place has been abandoned for a while. Are you a relative?”

  “In a way.” Bryn didn’t know what to call herself. She was no blood relation to Sister Mary Estelle, but the woman was the only mother she’d ever known. “You’re a big man, Denver Bolden.” Instinctively, she backed up a couple of steps. Bryn hadn’t been around very many men in her life. The priests had been infrequent visitors and none of them were built like this cowboy.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” Denver assured her quickly, sensing her unease. “I don’t even swat mosquitoes unless they bite me first.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” Bryn managed to say before swallowing her fear and squaring her shoulders. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

  “I’m…fine.” At this very second, he was better than fine. He felt lighter. Just being in the woman’s presence seemed to lift some of the burden from his shoulders. Her exquisite face seemed so peaceful, so serene. Yet, the emotions she called forth from his battered spirit were anything but tranquil. He felt electrified. Alive. “I don’t think you should be out here alone, Miss Bryn. Let me give you a ride back to your house.”

  “I’ve never ridden a horse before.” Her pretty eyes grew wide and her sweet lips formed a smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind me trying?”

  Did he mind? “It would make my day, Bryn.” She came closer to him and he realized he’d get to touch her. He couldn’t explain it, but touching her felt necessary to his sanity. “Let me help you up.” He dismounted, then took her hand in his, holding his breath. The sun was rising in the east, bathing the morning with new light. He’d never been so happy to see a new day dawn. Her ponytail was askew, her jeans were baggy, yet he’d never seen anyone more adorable. “Hold onto the saddle horn, put your right foot in the stirrup and hop up. I’ll steady you.” Oh, the steadying was the fun part. A palm to her back, then to her backside as she maneuvered into the saddle. “Now, I’ll join you.”