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  Praise for Last Chance for Justice

  A delightful blend of healing, new beginnings, and the simplicity of the love that shines for a new season. Last Chance for Justice tugs sweetly at the heart with delicious hope for tomorrow.

  —Janet Perez Eckles, author of best-selling Simply Salsa: Dancing Without Fear at God’s Fiesta

  Kathi Macias writes a hometown tale reminiscent of Anne of Green Gables, yet with a modern-day twist. She masterfully weaves a tale of mother-daughter love, complete with small-town gossips, a sweet romance, and a bit of mystery. I was enamored by the uplifting story, endearing characters, and the snuggle-down tale of loss, love, redemption, and discovery.

  —Susan G. Mathis, author of The ReMarriage Adventure and Countdown for Couples

  Kathi Macias’s new book Last Chance for Justice is as inviting as Bloomfield, home to the annual Spring Fling Festival and lots of characters who will feel like old friends. You’ll want to meander down Main Street and stop for lunch at Bert’s Barbecue. And of course you’ll cheer for Lynn Myers, the widow who returns to her old hometown and gets a fresh start in the old house next to the cemetery.

  Last Chance for Justice is a delightful read you won’t be able to put down. If you love stories that entertain and capture your heart, this one hits the spot! Can’t wait for the next Bloomfield book!

  —Kathy Howard, author of many books, including Unshakeable Faith and Fed Up with Flat Faith

  Last Chance for Justice is a masterful story that blends the most important issues of life, love, and faith into one compelling contemporary novel. With realistic characters and a great plot set in a small town where life moves at a slower pace, the dialogue alone will keep a reader turning the page.

  —Rita Gerlach, author

  Once again, Kathi Macias hits her target square in the center! Last Chance for Justice strays a bit from her usual deeper, darker subject fare, but it surely doesn’t lack in reader satisfaction. Rather, it has the perfect blend of mystery, sweet romance, and inspiration. As always, Macias delivers a fine, compelling story to capture a reader’s heart and full attention. Couldn’t put it down!

  —Sharlene MacLaren, author and speaker

  Last Chance for Justice is a lovely story about coming home and connecting to community. Mrs. Macias brought out some crucial and universal questions. How far do we go to honor the wishes of a departed loved one and how might that be part of God’s plan? Last Chance for Justice explores honor and love in relationships from families to the delight of budding new love, a book you won’t want to miss. (You won’t want to miss any books by Kathi Macias!)

  —Angela Breidenbach, speaker and author of A Healing Heart

  Love, mystery, and friendship are blooming in Bloomfield! In Last Chance for Justice, Kathi Macias weaves a refreshing and often humorous tale of a mother and daughter’s journey home. The deeply connected people and simpler pace of Bloomfield made me want to pack a bag and pay the small town a visit of my own.

  —Julie Carobini, author, The Otter Bay Novels

  Last Chance for Justice is a wonderful addition to the Bloomfield series of novels. It’s homey and heart-warming with a touch of mystery. The cast of unique characters quickly made their way into my heart. And the setting of Bloomfield expanded to include even more of the town and countryside. A delightful and insightful read.

  —Lena Nelson Dooley, multi-award-winning author of McKenna’s Daughters, including the recently released Catherine’s Pursuit

  Pleasant characters, a cozy little mystery and a love story to boot. Kathi Macias’s Last Chance for Justice lets us walk alongside Lynn as she wrestles with the death of her husband, her reluctance to embrace change and the hesitant but brave return to the hometown she left behind years before. As God unfolds His plans for her, for her daughter Rachel, and for some of the people of her quaint old hometown, it becomes wonderfully clear that His plan is bigger than her fear of change and her fear of what others might think put together. Deliciously heartwarming, Last Chance for Justice left me with a smile and a sigh—and a major craving for some sun tea.

  —Rhonda Rhea, humor columnist, radio personality, and author of ten books, including Espresso Your Faith and Get a Grip

  Last Chance for Justice, Digital Edition

  Based on Print Edition

  Copyright © 2013 by Kathi Macias

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America

  978-1-4336-7717-5

  Published by B&H Publishing Group

  Nashville, Tennessee

  Dewey Decimal Classification: F

  Subject Heading: MYSTERY FICTION LOVE STORIES INHERITANCE AND SUCCESSION—FICTION

  Publishers Note: The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  To my Lord and Savior, the Author and Finisher of my faith—and of my part in the Bloomfield project;

  To my best friend and strongest supporter, my husband, Al;

  And to my dear mother, whose flat apple pie is even now calling me from heaven.

  I can’t wait to get old enough that I no longer have to deal with peer pressure!

  Chapter 1

  Though it was the middle of June and summer was almost officially upon them, the day itself seemed as drab and colorless as Lynn Myers’s shoulder-length hair before her Clairol touch-up, and she had no reason to believe that tomorrow would be any different, which for the most part suited her just fine. Sameness represented security to Lynn, and she thrived on it—even pursued it with passion. But opposites attract, as they say, and life with Daniel had contained little, if any, sameness from day to day.

  However, Daniel was gone now, and Lynn instinctively had resorted to routine to carry her through. So far, it appeared to anyone who didn’t look too closely that her efforts had succeeded—until the day she returned from grocery shopping and spotted the official-looking letter protruding from the white metal mailbox on the outside wall next to her front door.

  She snagged the envelope, along with three nondescript occupant offerings, on the way inside. Smiling, she offered a brief hello to her ten-year-old cocker spaniel, Beasley, who lay in his customary spot on the braided rug next to Lynn’s favorite chair. Beasley opened one eye and wagged his stub of a tail in greeting, and Lynn proceeded to the kitchen and set her groceries on the table. Still holding the envelope, she flipped it from front to back twice and even held it up to the light, as if she could determine its contents in the process. Why didn’t she just open it? She started to, several times, but instead decided to put her groceries away first. No sense deviating from her usual method of doing everything “decently and in order,” as the Bible dictated. But what was it about that envelope that jacked up her heart rate and dampened the palms of her hands?

  Lynn’s aversion to change was nothing new. Born and raised in a small town where the annual Spring Fling Festival was the biggest event on the calendar, Lynn grew up believing she would always live in Bloomfield, surrounded by the same familiar friends and walking the same familiar streets. Then she met Daniel, a man too handsome for his own good—and hers, too, she’d been warned—but her heart hadn’t listened. And because Daniel was only in Bloomfield to visit relatives for the summer before returning to his home a few hundred miles away, eighteen-year-old Lynn had a decision to make.

  Admittedly, she’d been torn. Her avoidance of change, combined with her loyalty to family and friends in Bloomfield, beckoned her to do the sensible thing and say good-bye to the good-looking young man who had blown in and out of town, capturing her heart in the process. But the letters and phone calls he sent her way once he returned home drew her in a way she’d been helpless to resist. She’d prayed, she’d worried, she’d even argued with herself. Why leave a perfectly good little town with nice people and comfortable surroundings to live in a sprawling metropolis of nearly 100,000 residents, none of whom she’d ever met? She wouldn’t even know which grocery store had the best bargains or the freshest meat, or which stoplights were preprogrammed and which could be tripped by the weight of a car idling in just the right spot. Why not continue to live at home and attend the nearby junior college, as she’d originally planned, and hope that one of the few sensible and eligible bachelors in town would one day notice her and pop the question so she wouldn’t have to make so many adjustments?

  But ultimately she acted in a way many in Bloomfield had described as “completely out of character,” and she accepted Daniel’s romantic and urgent proposal of marriage, following him “to the ends of the earth.” When people asked her why—and many did—she simply told them she was in love. She’d known the moment her best friend introduced her to Daniel Myers on that bright June day less than a week after her high school graduation that her heart would never again be her own. And for some unimaginable reason, he felt the same about her. They met in the gentle heat of early summer and were married less than six months later, while the cold, harsh wind of winter blew outside the little church where their friends and family had gathered to wish them well and to place silent wagers on how long they would last.

  Thirty-five years, Lynn thought as she reached to slide the new box of baking soda onto its proper place on the spice shelf. We lasted thirty-five years—and then You took him home, Lord. She sighed. I know You have a right, and I
know You never make mistakes, and I’m grateful for the time we had together; truly I am. But, oh, Father, You know my heart. You know how much I miss him and wish we’d had just a few more years together.

  Blinking away tears, she turned back to let her eyes settle on the old butcher block table in the middle of the room. That table had hosted so many family meals and discussions over the years, but it now appeared as lonely as Lynn felt. The envelope lay where she’d left it, right next to the final bag of groceries. Should she give in and open it? No, she’d finish her task and put away the last of her small purchases first.

  She ignored the temptation to sit down and rest, something she never grappled with before Daniel died. Was this nagging sense of exhaustion part of her grief process? She’d heard somewhere that it could be, and since she was only in her midfifties and relatively healthy, why else would she feel this ongoing need to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and just sleep?

  She reached inside the bag, emptying the items one by one and placing them in a neat row before transporting them to a more permanent, predetermined spot where they would wait, neatly and quietly, until she needed them.

  One loaf of whole wheat bread, which will last for a month if I keep it in the refrigerator. It wouldn’t have lasted a week if Daniel were still around and Rachel lived at home. She shook her head. They’re gone now, she reminded herself. Both of them. So finish what you’re doing and stop daydreaming. You’ll just end up crying again.

  With everything put away at last, she had no more excuses. She sat down and picked up the envelope, shaking it one more time before tearing an opening at the end and slipping out the neatly folded letter. She was surprised when a small key slid out of the envelope and rattled onto the table. Puzzled, she swallowed and spread the letter out in front of her.

  “Dear Ms. Myers.”

  Lynn hated that form of address.

  Ms. indeed! Why do I have to be a “Ms.” just because my “Mr.” died? I was a “Mrs.” then, and I’m a “Mrs.” now. Must I suddenly change my entire identity just because Daniel moved on ahead of me?

  She knew she was overreacting, but she didn’t care. The fact that the letter opened with what she considered an offensive salutation did not bode well for the remainder of its contents. She could smell the word “surprise” lurking in every line.

  She read on, her grip tightening on the paper in an unconscious effort to keep her hands from shaking. Her heart raced as a lump formed in her throat.

  Myron? Dead? If she hadn’t already been sitting, she would have fallen smack-dab into her chair—or possibly even onto the floor. She would never have imagined this in a million years.

  Well, all right. Maybe by then. After all, no one lived that long. But now? Already? This soon, when her only brother wasn’t even seventy yet? Wasn’t it enough that she’d lost her beloved Daniel in what she considered the prime of his life, even though AARP had been sending him membership invitations for several years? Did she have to lose her only sibling as well? And why hadn’t she been told sooner? Why now, several weeks after the fact? As the next of kin, shouldn’t she have been notified immediately so she could plan the funeral?

  As she read on, she got her answer. Though Myron had not felt well in awhile, he had kept that fact to himself. Even his doctor, lawyer, and pastor didn’t realize the gravity of his situation until the last few days. In addition, the terms of Myron’s will included the stipulation that Lynn not be told until at least a couple of weeks after his death, as he didn’t want a “big to-do,” just a quiet burial in the cemetery next to his home. Apparently, the town of Bloomfield had honored the request, but the time had come for Lynn to claim her inheritance.

  Inheritance?

  How could she even think of such a thing while still reeling at the news of Myron’s death? So far as she knew, Myron had always been healthy. But then, so had Daniel, and he was gone, wasn’t he? Besides, who knew Myron well enough to make a call on his health? He’d been quiet and relatively noncommunicative, even as a child, and a virtual recluse since his one true love left him at the altar decades earlier. Even their parents, who had lived less than three miles away from their only son, had seldom seen him during his adult years.

  Moving into that big old house next to the cemetery certainly didn’t help any. Myron, what were you thinking? But then, that was the problem, wasn’t it? You never let anyone know what you were thinking.

  Grabbing a tissue from her pocket, she dabbed at the tears that threatened to run down her cheeks and forced herself to read on.

  “. . . has left his entire estate, including his house, to you . . .”

  Lynn reread the statement several times. So that was her inheritance, that monstrosity that looked like something from a horror film. Myron had left it to her? And what was she supposed to do with it? Certainly not live there! Why, she hadn’t even been back to Bloomfield since . . . since . . .

  Her mother’s funeral. Had it really been nearly ten years, not only since her mother died but also since she’d set foot in the town where she’d been born and raised and thought surely she would die and be buried as well? The realization that once both her parents were gone she had ceased to visit Bloomfield—including her only sibling, now deceased—made her cheeks grow hot with shame.

  “Forgive me, Lord,” she whispered. “How could I have neglected Myron like that? For all I know, he was sick and needed me. But here I was, miles and miles away, busy with my own life and then feeling sorry for myself when my husband died, wondering what I was going to do with the rest of my days. Oh, poor Myron! Why didn’t I at least try harder to reach out to him after Daniel died? It’s not like I didn’t have the time, or . . .”

  The words stuck in her throat as tears spilled over her cheeks, and she didn’t even bother trying to stop them. As she wept softly—for the unexpected loss of her estranged (and yes, somewhat strange) brother and the still-fresh grief over the death of her husband, as well as the memories and confusion that swirled in her mind—she found herself wondering if God was trying to tell her something.

  “I know,” she sniffled. “I’ve been on a long and disgusting pity party since Daniel died. But Lord, he was my life! You knew that, but You took him anyway. Now I have nothing—no direction, no purpose. I don’t even have my daughter anymore. Rachel’s a grown woman with a fresh degree from Bible college and a whole lifetime of choices and opportunities ahead of her. What have I got? This old house that’s in need of more repairs than I can ever afford and reeking of memories that rip my heart out fresh every morning, not to mention Rachel’s education bills looming over my head. Now I’ve got another house to worry about—and an ugly one at that! What in the world am I supposed to do with it?”

  Lynn realized she was once again whining at God, but her prayer life had been reduced to little else these past months. It was a wonder He still loved and listened to her, but she knew He did. At the moment, it was all she had to cling to.

  Just some direction, Lord, she prayed silently, mopping away her tears and calming her sobs. That’s all I’m asking for—really. Am I supposed to sell Myron’s house and use the money to pay my bills? That would be the logical thing, wouldn’t it? And You know I’ve always been one to appreciate logic—despite the fact that I married a man who didn’t know the meaning of the word. I know what he’d do if this happened while he was alive. He’d say it was our big chance for an unexpected adventure. Instead of selling that house, he’d sell this one, take an early retirement, and off we’d go to live in my brother’s mausoleum in Bloomfield—right next to the town’s only cemetery. That sure would have rekindled the gossip fires about Daniel and me, wouldn’t it? The very thought sounds terrifying, but Daniel’s green eyes would have lit up at the prospect. Why can’t I be just a little bit like him, Father? Just a little—

  “Mom?”

  The sound, as much as the name, nearly jolted Lynn from her chair. Jerking her head upward, she had to remind her heart to stop tap-dancing so close to her ribs. It hurt—and besides, it was dangerous. It was just too much for one day—first the letter about Myron, and now this. How many surprises could one woman endure?