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  praise for

  somebody like you

  “In Vogt’s quietly beautiful inspirational contemporary, two people learn to let go of the past and discover that God often works in mysterious ways. . . . A heartwarming tearjerker about learning what love is.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Beth Vogt gets better with every book. Somebody Like You wrestles with the tough topics of widowhood and family while wrapped in the heart-warming cocoon of romance. Bravo to Vogt for coming up with an intriguing concept and executing it brilliantly.”

  —Rachel Hauck, award-winning author of Once Upon a Prince

  “A beautiful story of an unexpected second chance at love and redemption by one of my favorite authors. I loved this book!”

  —Susan May Warren, bestselling and award-winning author of It Had to Be You

  “In Somebody Like You, Beth K. Vogt captures the tender emotions of loss with grace and sincere understanding. An expertly handled story of rekindled hearts and the whisper of a hope-filled future are safe in her very capable hands. For the broken, for the awakening of new love, for the heart that seeks a champion to heal its wounds . . . this is a special book.”

  —Kristy Cambron, author of The Butterfly and the Violin

  “With crisp prose, flesh-and-blood characters who live and breathe on the page, and a poignancy that reaches into one’s very soul, Somebody Like You is not only a must-read for somebody like you . . . but for anyone who loves great fiction.”

  —Julie Lessman, award-winning author of the Daughters of Boston series

  “Woven with grace and sensitivity, author Beth K. Vogt sheds a tender light on the human spirit in this bittersweet story of love and loss. Beautiful and emotion-packed, the only bookmark for this is a Kleenex, for Somebody Like You will tug at your heart in a way that is not easily forgotten.”

  —Joanne Bischof, award-winning author of Be Still My Soul

  “Somebody Like You is a story filled with characters I adored from the opening paragraphs. At the end, I sighed, longing for just a few more pages with my new friends. A perfect read for those who like a romance with a rich story and heart.”

  —Cara Putman, award-winning author of Shadowed by Grace

  “Poignant, intriguing, and not without its lighter moments, too, Beth Vogt’s Somebody Like You captured me from the first chapter. The unique premise had me curious from the start, but it was the emotional depth combined with heart-tugging characters that had me reading until late at night. A beautiful story, beautifully told.”

  —Melissa Tagg, author of Made to Last

  “With a poignant plot and a tenderness that grips your heart, Somebody Like You is a story to be savored. Vogt shows how God restores the brokenness in lives for his happily ever after. This engaging read brought tears to my eyes several times, but it concluded with a heart-sighing smile.”

  —Lisa Jordan, award-winning author of Lakeside Reunion

  “Somebody Like You grabbed my interest from page one and didn’t let go. Beth K. Vogt pens this heart-wrenching and tender romance between a military widow and her husband’s estranged twin brother with the deftness and assurance of a skilled storyteller, rendering deep emotion without ever dissolving into melodrama. My only complaint is that it had to end! If Beth’s first two novels marked her as an author to watch, Somebody Like You proves she’s here to stay.”

  —Carla Laureano, author of Five Days in Skye

  “Somebody Like You takes you on an emotional journey to witness the bravery of a widow in the face of impossible circumstances. Beth Vogt has written a book you will not soon forget.”

  —Elizabeth Byler Younts, author of Promise to Return

  For the ones who have been broken and whose dreams have been lost . . . and for the One who finds us and restores our dreams

  “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

  (Psalm 34:18 NIV)

  prologue

  SUMMER 1993

  “We’re lost.” Stephen tossed the words at Sam’s back. “Hey! Did you hear what I said?” Probably not. Sam tromped through the underbrush as if he was fifteen, not ten, crunching fallen leaves and twigs with each step and bending small seedlings under his brown boots, the laces of one trailing in the dirt.

  Once Sam crested the side of the ravine they’d been walking along, he stopped and turned to face Stephen, revealing a sunburned nose. “We are not lost.”

  So his brother had heard him—he’d just ignored him until he wanted to talk. Stephen scrambled up beside Sam, wiping away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. “Do you know where we are?”

  “Not yet.” Sam pushed up his Dallas Cowboys Super Bowl baseball cap and scanned right, then left. “Give me a minute and I’ll figure it out.”

  “Well, if we don’t know where we are, and if we don’t know where we’re going, we’re lost.”

  “I told ya, we’re on an adventure. If we’re exploring, then we’re not lost.” Sam pulled a crumpled bag of beef jerky from his jeans pocket, offering it to Stephen before taking a few pieces for himself. “We’re discovering new things. New places.”

  Just sniffing the salty tang of the leathery jerky made Stephen’s mouth water. “So far the only things we’ve discovered are a patch of poison ivy, an empty bird’s nest, and how long we can walk and not find camp. Dad’s gonna let us have it when we get back—if we ever figure out how to do that.”

  His brother scratched at a mosquito bite on his neck, causing all the itchy spots on Stephen’s body to demand attention.

  “We’ll find it. Do you remember seeing any weird trees or big rocks while we were hiking this morning?”

  “I dunno. Where’s the creek?” Stephen turned a slow three-sixty. “I know our campsite is somewhere along the creek.”

  “Yep. And we crossed the creek once, so we—”

  “Need to find it and cross it again to be going in the right direction.”

  “See? We’ll figure this out.” Sam pulled his canvas-covered canteen around to the front of his body. “Better have some water before we get started again.”

  “I drank all mine.”

  “I’ll share mine with you—but don’t finish it.”

  Stephen gnawed on the teriyaki-flavored beef jerky, periodically taking small sips of lukewarm water that pushed back the thirst building in his throat. The sun filtered down between the branches of the trees, but even with the lingering coolness of the Pennsylvania mountain air, sweat dampened Stephen’s gray cotton T-shirt. “How long have we been hiking?”

  “I don’t know. I left my watch in my sleeping bag.”

  “Mom probably made breakfast already—and she promised us blueberry pancakes and bacon.” He swallowed a hunk of jerky. “This stuff tastes like I’m chewing on my hiking boot.”

  Sam sipped more water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and leaving a streak of dirt across his chin. “It’s this or nothing.”

  Why had he listened to Sam’s “let’s go exploring” suggestion this morning? A hike sounded like a good idea then—tromp around the woods a bit instead of sitting around, staring at the remains of last night’s campfire while Mom and Dad still slept in the tent. Sam had promised they’d be back before their parents woke up.

  Getting lost hadn’t been part of the plan.

  “Do you think they’re g
oing to go tell the ranger? Maybe get a search party?”

  “We’ve only been gone a couple of hours.” Sam rolled his eyes, positioning his cap backward on his head. “They won’t do anything like that until it’s getting dark and we’re not back . . .”

  “But we’ll be back to camp before then, right?”

  “Sure we will.” Sam hooked his arm over Stephen’s shoulders. “It’s not even lunchtime yet.”

  After tucking the now-empty plastic bag in his pocket, Sam pointed toward the steep hill off toward their left. “We’re going that way.”

  “Did we go downhill on the way out of camp, Sam?”

  “I think . . . so.” His brother had already scrabbled partway up the hillside, his voice floating back to Stephen in short puffs. “I want to get higher . . . maybe we’ll see something . . . from up there.”

  He started to follow, Sam’s feet sending small rocks and clods of dirt skittering down the side of the hill and into his face. Stephen coughed, pausing to put some space between him and his brother before resuming the ascent. Maybe when they got to the top of that ridge, they’d recognize something. Maybe they’d see their campsite. Or a big sign saying THIS WAY BACK TO MOM AND DAD.

  When his foot slipped on some loose rocks in a patch of scree, Stephen went down hard, his chin hitting something sharp. He bit his tongue, tasting the metallic flavor of blood, and lay with his face sideways in the dirt, leaves, and stones for a few seconds.

  “Sam!” His voice was muffled as he held his hand over his chin, his fingers warm and wet. He tilted his head, watching his brother put more distance between them. “Sam!”

  Sam paused, looking back over his shoulder. The sight of Stephen sprawled on the side of the hill prompted Sam to half run, half slide back down. Stephen closed his eyes against another shower of debris.

  Sam crouched beside him. Against the sunburn on his nose, his face looked white. “You’re bleeding.”

  Stephen swallowed the taste of salt and iron. “Yeah. Figured. I banged my chin on a rock or something.”

  “You want me to look at it?”

  Sam hated blood even more than Stephen did. “There’s nothing you can do about it. Didja bring a bandana with you?”

  “Yeah.” Sam pulled a folded red bandana out of his back pocket and handed it to Stephen, who pressed it against his chin, exhaling with a sharp hiss.

  “Mom would say to rinse that out.”

  “Well, first it’s gotta stop bleeding.”

  “Let me see your hand.” As Stephen switched hands and held the material to his chin, his brother poured a bit of the tepid water from the canteen onto his fingers. “Think you’re gonna need stitches?”

  “Maybe.” Stephen sniffed, then tried to cover up his tears with a cough. “Got some dust and stuff in my mouth. You got needle and thread with you?”

  “I’m not sewing—” Sam’s wide-eyed gaze collided with Stephen’s, and he smirked as he realized his brother’s joke. “I’m sorry, Stephen.”

  “For what?”

  “For suggesting this hike. We’re lost and we missed breakfast and now your chin’s busted—”

  “Hey, did you think I was gonna let you go hiking by yourself ? The Ames brothers stick together, right?”

  “Right. And so long as we stick together now, we’ll be okay. Right?”

  “Right.” Stephen held up his right hand, which was damp and still streaked with blood, as Sam mirrored his action with his left hand, which was caked with dirt from his skid down the side of the hill. They did their right-hand-left-hand high five, followed by a quick low handclasp.

  Stephen dabbed at the wound. “I’ll be okay. Let’s get going.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. The sooner we get started, the sooner we get back to camp.”

  “I’ll take it slow.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can keep up with you.”

  one

  JULY 2012

  Six minutes.

  Surely six minutes was enough time to propose, wasn’t it? Returning to where he and Elissa first met seemed so romantic—but Stephen hadn’t factored in Breckenridge’s high-speed ski lifts.

  As the chair lift hit the back of his knees, Stephen settled into the unpadded metal seat. Elissa snuggled next to him, leaning up and brushing a kiss against his jaw. The soft caress of her lips invited him to wrap his arm around her, anchoring his ratcheted-up heart rate to the reality that he wanted to marry this woman. He blew out a huff of air, releasing his death grip on the protective guardrail.

  The time was right.

  “This was such a good idea, Stephen, riding the ski lift in the summer. You always make our dates fun. I love being with you—I can relax. No pressure.” Elissa’s husky voice pulled him from his mental mathematics. “It looks so different without any snow, but this reminds me of how we met.”

  He brushed long strands of her brown hair away from her face. “Only that day we were wearing ski boots and parkas and helmets—and I didn’t get to see how absolutely stunning you are until dinner that night.”

  “Flatterer.” Elissa pressed her full lips against his.

  Stephen inhaled the scent of Elissa’s spicy perfume, savoring the warmth of her mouth and her unreserved affection. It was one of the things he loved most about the woman in his arms—one of the many reasons he wanted to marry her. With Elissa, he knew he was loved.

  Elissa lifted her right hand, tilting her wrist so she could admire the tourmaline and silver bracelet he’d bought her just before suggesting the ski lift ride.

  As they ascended the mountain, they left behind Breckenridge’s annual art festival. The parking lots and side roads were packed with cars and trucks, and the trendy mountain town teemed with people strolling through the various craft booths. The jewelry artisan had stood in one of the white tents along the main street, insisting it was as if he’d made the bracelet just for her. By presenting her with one piece of jewelry, Stephen hoped the diamond ring he’d slip on her finger during the next few minutes would all the more surprise Elissa. An expensive decoy, but well worth it. After six months, he knew the woman beside him—and jewelry was her love language.

  Stephen swallowed, fighting against the constriction in his throat. This was good. He was ready to move forward. He couldn’t wait to see the surprise in Elissa’s eyes—the gleam of joy tinged with love as she said yes when he proposed. She always enjoyed it when he surprised her with flowers or a card—a proposal would top all of those.

  Slipping his left hand into his jean jacket pocket, Stephen ensured the ring was safe. He’d lugged it around all day tucked in a beribboned box in his well-worn backpack as they browsed the different craftsmen’s stalls, switching the ring to his pocket during a supposed bathroom break before he purchased their lift tickets.

  After all, if Prince William of England could hike all over Africa carrying some world-renowned family heirloom in a rucksack, waiting for the right moment to propose to his precious Kate, why couldn’t Stephen sling a pack over his shoulder and plan a proposal in the Colorado mountains?

  And thank you, Elissa, for the fact that I even know that bit of royal trivia. Every woman wants a bit of fairy tale coming true in her life, which probably explained why Elissa followed three different blogs about the future queen of England.

  Breckenridge didn’t qualify as remote terrain—even if his ’66 Mustang was parked in the farthest lot from the main street running through town.

  Even as Elissa leaned closer, he pulled away, running his thumb along her bottom lip as she pretended to pout. “As much as I would enjoy kissing you the entire ride up and back down the mountain, I need to control myself for a few minutes.”

  “Afraid we’ll fall out of the chair?”

  “No . . . I just—” Why were the words evading him now? He’d practiced the proposal all week, wanting it to be perfect. A memory Elissa would treasure. “I want to talk about . . . I mean, you know I love you . . . and I want to ask you—
”

  Wait. He wanted to give Elissa the ring as he asked her to marry him. Stephen fumbled with his coat pocket. Maybe by the time he started talking again, he wouldn’t stumble over his words like a middle-schooler asking a girl to a dance for the first time. He sucked in a breath. Relax. He could do this. “Elissa, would you marry me?”

  “What?” Elissa half-turned to watch him, her sculpted brows furrowed over her smoky brown eyes as he pulled the ring from its hiding place. “You’re not . . . you’re not proposing, are you, Stephen?”

  “Yes . . . I am. I did.” He’d asked her to marry him. Not flawless, like the half-carat diamond, but he’d proposed.

  Wait—wasn’t he supposed to ask the question? And wasn’t Elissa supposed to say yes? He raised his hand and offered the ring to Elissa. Realized he held the square-cut diamond so that it was hidden from view. Repositioned it so the gem glinted in the late-summer sunlight.

  Elissa leaned away from him, one hand gripping the base of the seat. “Why are you asking me to marry you?”

  What happened to a simple yes? Why wasn’t she throwing herself into his arms, causing the lift to sway back and forth, exclaiming over the ring, and kissing him again? Okay, so he’d left his polished proposal at the base of the mountain, but still . . .

  With the ring suspended between them, Stephen tried again, ignoring how his heart pounded in his chest like thunder during an afternoon storm. “Elissa, you are amazing. Beautiful. I love being with you. I love you. Will you marry me?”

  “What ever gave you the idea that I was ready for you to propose? We’ve been dating for barely six months!”

  He hadn’t prepared for a no. Hadn’t prepared for her to recoil, to refuse to even look at the ring, much less reject it.

  “Stephen.” Her warm hand covered his cold fingers. “You’re wonderful. I’ve had a blast the last six months. But—” Her eyes narrowed and she seemed to search for the right words. “—we never even talked about getting married. Where is this coming from?”