Thirty Days Late

What reviewers have to say about Thirty Days Late

"Thirty Days Late is a historical romance set during the era of the Great Depression. It is a delightful romance that gives the reader the sense of innocence during that time period.

Ms. Carrington does an exceptional job creating a solid novel. Thirty Days Late is a timeless historical romance that I truly took pleasure in reading. I look forward to reading more from Ms. Carrington in the future." Coffee Time Romance

Thirty Days Late is a wonderful traditional romance where a couple must overcome major problems to find their happily ever after. This inspiring tale, told with style and simplicity, will surely find its way into the reader’s heart and mind. It is a delight to find both a good romance and a well-grounded historical novel with an early twentieth century setting. Readers can imagine their parents or grandparents living in this era, perhaps even experiencing a similar situation. Literary Nymphs

This is a sweet story that makes you feel for the characters by either aching for them, laughing with them or clenching your fists at them. For me, I found myself mostly smiling as I watched Grace and Nathaniel fall in love. I enjoyed having it left to my imagination what sort of night Grace and Nathaniel had together, instead of having it written out for me. Fallen Angel Reviews

Thirty Days Late

Rachel Carrington

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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THIRTY DAYS LATE

Copyright © 2007 Dawn Rachel Carrington

Cover illustration copyright © 2007 Rene Wilson of BG Designs

Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. 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 an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact Vintage Romance Publishing, LLC, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

ISBN: 0-9752868-3-8

PUBLISHED BY VINTAGE ROMANCE PUBLISHING, LLC

www.vrpublishing.com

The author gratefully acknowledges trademarks owned by the following:

General Motors Corporation 300 Renaissance Center P.O. Box 300 Detroit MICHIGAN 482653000

FORD MOTOR COMPANY The American Road Dearborn MICHIGAN 48121

Dedication

To two of my special friends for staying the course with me…

Deb Curwen

I can’t imagine a time in my life when you weren’t there. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. Your presence is a blessing to me every day, and I love you.

Michelle Ruopoli

You’re much more than a friend. You’re my sister, the one I can laugh with, fight with, cry with, and just be with, knowing I’m accepted. Your support and unfailing love buoys my spirit every day. I love you!

Chapter One

The rapidly spinning wheels caught her attention first. No one she knew would deliberately turn their car upside down. At least, not intentionally, unless one counted last Halloween when the Baker twins took their daddy’s old pickup to pull a practical joke on the Widow Tolliver. But those boys had learned a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget. She doubted they’d be brave enough to try it again. And that car certainly didn’t look like the Baker’s old pickup truck.

With a sigh, Grace stomped on the brake and the Ford rattled to a stop. Henry grabbed his cap to keep it from flying off his head.

Hey! he complained. What are you stopping all sudden like for?

Take a look. Grace jutted her chin toward the spinning wheels of the car before she climbed out to inspect the damage. The last few days of rain made it difficult for her to get close to the car. She slipped and struggled for a foothold as she came down the embankment. She lost traction at the last moment and her hip bumped against the Chevrolet’s front wheel.

Tarnation! she grumbled.

Henry’s bony elbow bumped the horn, startling Grace and her head shot up. She pointed toward the car. Henry Austen! You get back in that car right this minute. It’s raining like cats and dogs out here and you’ll catch your death if you stay out in it for longer than five minutes.

But I want to help! he protested.

Grace didn’t have time to argue with him. Now, Henry.

With a sullen expression on his face, Henry scrambled back into the passenger side of the pickup truck, but he kept his head outside the window.

Grace started to push the matter, but then a sound caught her attention. Pushing her sodden hair out of her face, she squatted, one knee squishing in the thick mud. Is anybody in there? She tapped the side of the car.

Mmmmm-uhhhhh, came a low moan.

Grace shot to her feet. Henry! There’s somebody in here! She scrambled back up the embankment and raced toward the back of the pickup truck. She thumped the back of the window. Well, don’t just sit there! Come help me get him out!

I wish you’d make up your mind, the youngster grumbled, dashing out into what had become a downpour with the delighted grin of youth.

Henry whistled as he came close. Whoo-eee. This here’s a 1930 Chevrolet Special, Gracie. Ain’t seen nothing like this in these parts.

As Henry began to rattle on about the car’s six cylinder engine and hydraulic shock absorbers, Grace squeezed in between the mud and the hood of the car. She saw a patch of brown hair and a double-breasted suit, a sure sign of money, in her opinion.

This is just kippy, Sis, Henry crowed, dancing around on one leg. I’d like to take a ride in this tin can. I wonder how fast she can go.

Grace let out an exasperated sigh and wiggled out of the confined space. If you don’t start helping, you’re going to take a walk with me to the wood shed once we get home.

Henry’s enthusiasm dimmed. What do you want me to do then?

I’ve got the rope tied around his waist…I think. So take hold of it and when I say pull, start pulling. Though Henry appeared scrawny to the observer, the boy had muscles most young boys would never have at such a tender age. Grace rested her hand on top of his mop of brown hair and gave him an encouraging grin. Think you can do that?

Henry rolled his eyes and whirled the rope around his waist. You just say when. He braced his feet and caught a firm hold.

Grace nodded her approval. When.

* * * *

Nathaniel woke with a throbbing head and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried to sit up, but the room started to swim. Flopping his head back against the pillow, he groaned. Had he died? He sure felt like he had.

A door clicked open and he heard footsteps on a wooden floor or maybe it was the woodpecker inside his head.

Mister, are you awake?

At the angelic-sounding voice, Nathaniel’s eyes popped open. The voice did belong to an angel with curls the color of his momma’s tin kettle and eyes that just looked right through him. He didn’t know when he’d seen a prettier babe. Maybe he’d made it into Heaven after all.

At least your eyes are open. That’s a good sign. Her voice held teasing and Nathaniel immediately reached his hand up for his hat, but only encountered mussed hair. Oh. Pardon me.

She fussed with the blankets covering his shoulders. Don’t try to get up. You took a nasty blow to the head. It’s a wonder you still got some brains left. Of course, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it? She flashed him a smile to soften her words and placed her hand against his forehead. Her fingers felt cool. Would you like a sip of water?

He didn’t try to nod. That’d be nice. Thank you, Ma’am.

She glided toward the door and Nathaniel noticed the patches on her dress. While she left him alone, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows to investigate his surroundings.

Though clean and neat, the simple room bore little frills. Plank floors with a hooked rug centered in the middle of the room, flour sack curtains, a four-poster bed, a small nightstand and dresser with a portrait he couldn’t see very well and a rocking chair next to the window. He placed his head back against the pillow behind him, which smelled faintly of lavender and soap.

He wondered how he’d gotten to this room, which held just the barest of necessities and how he ended up with a nurse as pretty as a field of wildflowers. He reckoned he’d find out soon enough.

She tapped on the door this time and waited until he croaked, Come in. Her shoes slapped against the planks though Nathaniel wondered how anyone so slight could make any noise at all. The woman didn’t look like she weighed more than a dollar.

May I ask your name? Nathaniel remembered the manners his mother had taught him.

The angel smiled and held out the glass of water. It’s Grace, Grace Austen. My brother’s name is Henry. You’ll be seeing him soon. He’s been aching to get in here and make sure you’re fit and to tell you he helped pull you out of your car.

Nathaniel returned her smile and propped himself up on one elbow to drink the water.

Grace leaned forward so suddenly, her arm bumped his elbow and water sloshed over the sleeve of his shirt. Her face turned pink. I’m so sorry. I was only trying to stop you from holding that yourself. You should be saving all your energy.

Nathaniel obediently lowered his head and when Grace tucked her arm behind his head and held the glass to his lips, he figured he could die a happy man. He took his time drinking those sips and when she finally determined he’d had enough, she removed her arm. He wished she’d left it there a little while longer. She had the softest skin.

You said your brother helped pull me out of my car, but how did I get here, Miss Austen? I’m assuming it’s Miss.

She flushed again. It is Miss and my brother and I brought you here after we found your car turned upside down near Barney’s store. It took some doing, but my brother is strong as an ox. It’s a good thing we found you, too, because Barney’s out of town, not expected to return until later on tonight. You could have been laying there for quite a while.

Nathaniel considered it his good fortune that old Barney was away. He bet the view was much nicer here than it would have been with the owner of the general store. You and your brother got me out of my car? How old is your brother?

Grace lowered her head and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. Nathaniel’s heart turned over. That surprised him more than his first reaction to the girl’s beauty. He’d done some dating, but hadn’t felt the same way in two weeks he’d felt about Grace Austen in a matter of two minutes.

My brother is ten, she said in a quiet tone of voice which reminded Nathaniel of the brook which ran behind his mother’s house.

Nathaniel stared at her. You’re telling me you and your ten-year-old brother got me out of my car? I’m three times your size.

Grace lifted her head and her eyes flashed. It’s amazing what a body can do when they don’t have options. And don’t look at me like that. I’m telling you the truth, Mister. She hesitated. You haven’t given me your name.

I’m Nathaniel Sampson.

Like a cannonball shot straight up into the air, she leaped to her feet. Nathaniel Sampson!

He eyed her warily. Did she not like his name? He’d never had complaints about it before.

Do you know where you are? She demanded, her hands on her hips in a gesture he was sure she’d copied from her mother.

Nathaniel shook his head slowly. "No, can’t say that I do,