Книга - Deep in the Heart

Deep in the Heart
Jane Myers Perrine


With dreams bigger than Silver Lake, Texas, Kate Wallace left a trail of heartbreak when she headed for the big city.Now, her goals unmet, she's returned home. Silver Lake has gone on without her–so has Rob Chambers, the boy she left behind. Now a man, the single dad has a beautiful daughter. Kate knows he wants the same things she does–love and family–but he's built a wall she can't break down.In spite of the past, can Kate reach Rob and teach him to trust her? Will their faith bring them together so they can find love again?












“Are you planning to stay?” Rob asked.


Kate couldn’t read his face, but his voice held a harsh, demanding tone.

She stopped and considered her answer. “I am looking for a job here, something to keep me busy for a few weeks and make me a little money, but I don’t plan to stay after Abby’s recovered.”

This time she could read his expression. Relief, pure and simple.

“Does it matter to you? If I stay or if I leave?”

“Not a bit.”

But it did. She didn’t need to be a crack investigative reporter to recognize that Rob cared greatly whether she stayed or left.

And he favored her departure, most likely as soon as possible.




JANE MYERS PERRINE


grew up in Kansas City, Missouri, has a B.A. from Kansas State University and has an M.Ed. in Spanish from the University of Louisville. She has taught high-school Spanish in five states. She currently teaches in the beautiful hill country of Texas. Her husband is minister of a Christian church in central Texas, where Jane teaches an adult Sunday school class. Jane was a finalist in the Regency category of the Golden Heart Awards. Her short pieces have appeared in the Houston Chronicle, Woman’s World magazine and other publications. The Perrines share their home with two spoiled cats and an arthritic cocker spaniel. Readers can visit Jane’s Web page at www.janemyersperrine.com.




Deep in the Heart

Jane Myers Perrine








O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You made him ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet: O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

—Psalms 8:1, 3–6, 9


Many thanks to the Christian adults who gave

their time and shared their faith with young people

when I was growing up, most especially Wally and

Rea Brown, the Russell Smiths, Russ and Betty

Huff, Harvey Quenette and Uncle Don.

Also with special love:

Ewart and Prudy Harper Wyle.

George, for years of encouragement and love and

for cooking dinner at least twice a week.

Ernest Spiekermann, for his Christian example and

for sharing his knowledge of wildflowers of central

Texas. Any mistakes are mine, not his.

Jessica Alvarez, the kindest, most talented and

patient editor ever.




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

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


Can’t go home again. Can’t go home again. The words repeated in the slap of the car’s worn tires against the highway as Kate Wallace headed west out of Burnet and into the heart of the Texas Hill Country.

But here she was, doing exactly that. Going home. And not a bit happy about it.

She took the curve on Highway 29 too fast. As the car leaned into the turn, Kate put her hand on the elderly buff cocker spaniel sleeping next to her to make sure the dog didn’t fall off the seat.

Why was she in such a hurry? It wasn’t as if the town of Silver Lake would disappear if she dawdled.

Slowing, she headed north on County Road 144A. Within a few minutes, she was speeding through rolling hills, past the thick groves of trees and the shimmering green grass that covered central Texas in the spring. Here and there, she spotted patches of bluebonnets, promises of the beauty to come.

Twenty minutes later, she pulled off the highway at the top of the hill that overlooked Silver Lake and kept the engine running.

Scratching her dog Coco’s ears, Kate breathed in the spicy scent of cedars as she studied the town spread out below her.

“Kate Wallace,” she whispered. “You really are home again.” An emotion filled her, an odd mixture of hope and resignation, shame and excitement which made her want to grin and to cry and to flee from here as fast as her old car could take her.

At twenty-one, she’d left Silver Lake with a brand-new degree in journalism and her entire future ahead. Without a backward glance, she’d shaken the dust of small-town Texas off her feet and headed to the big city.

Twelve years later, here she was, back in Silver Lake without her youth and confidence and missing a few other things, as well.

She closed her eyes, trying to replace the view of the small hill-country town with the towering buildings of New York and Houston and the pulsing rhythms of Miami, the cities she’d loved so much. When she opened her eyes the city limits sign—Silver Lake, Population 7,881—stared back at her and the leaves of post oaks rustled in the breeze.

No doubt about it. She was in Mesa County, Texas.

She glanced at her watch. Noon on Saturday. She could sneak into town. With everyone shopping in Austin or Granite Falls, the square would be deserted.

Not that anyone would recognize her now. She was thirty-three and looked every day of it. Her silver-blond hair had darkened over the years and she’d chopped off her long curls six months ago.

Coming home wasn’t her choice, but it was the only remaining option. After she’d testified against her boss—a well-known congressman she’d served as press secretary—few choices remained. When her sister Abby’s e-mail had arrived three weeks earlier asking Kate to come home and care for her after shoulder surgery, she’d grabbed the opportunity to escape.

She shifted out of Park and stepped on the gas. Within minutes, she passed a new Dollar Merchandise store next to a new H-E-B grocery store.

When a chatting group of people stepped off the curb, Kate returned to reality, slammed on the brakes and stopped inches short of them. Thank you, Lord, she whispered, a little surprised at how good that short prayer felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said one.

On the sidewalk stood Sara Arroyo, her former best friend. She’d changed, but no one else in town had hair that dark and full and beautiful. Kate should jump from the car and apologize for dropping out of sight. She should tell Sara she was home and they had to get together. But she didn’t. Today she wanted to slink back into town. Besides, Sara held the hands of two children. Kate didn’t want to interrupt whatever they were doing, an explanation even she recognized as a terrible excuse.

At Lloyd’s Auto Repair and Battery Services, she turned left onto Goliad Street. She followed the curve for another block as she drove between rows of towering live oak trees dripping in Spanish moss until she stopped in front of the three-story Victorian house that used to be home.

The house appeared exactly as it had when she took off, the walls still pale yellow with the gingerbread trim painted green, pink and lavender. In the noonday sun, the house, a national historic home, shone like the multicolored jewel she was.

“That’s where I grew up, Coco.” The fragile old dog smiled up at her.

Kate hit the trunk latch and got out of the car. After grabbing a couple of worn Louis Vuitton suitcases from the back, she toted them around the passenger side of the car and opened the door. She snapped on Coco’s leash and lifted the dog out of the car and onto the grass.

Matching Coco’s pace, she ambled to the porch steps where the little dog tried to climb the first step but couldn’t lift her arthritic rear leg. The cocker slid down to the stones of the sidewalk, her soft brown eyes focused on Kate, and gave her a “Woof.”

“I know, Coco. Old age must be tough.” Kate dumped the luggage and leaned down to pick Coco up and place her gently on the porch.

“Why do you carry that dog around?”

Surprised to hear the voice, Kate straightened and saw a girl, probably eight or nine years old, standing inside the front door. She wore pink slacks and a black-and-pink-striped T-shirt. With her hand, the child combed out tangles in her straight brown hair. Who else could she be but her niece? She had Abby’s small bones and beautiful features.

“Hello, Brooke. I’m your aunt Kate.”

Brooke stared at her.

“This is my dog, Coco.”

Coco woofed, not loudly, just as a greeting.

“She’s old and has arthritis so she can’t get up and down very well.”

“That’s a really ugly car,” she said, then headed upstairs. When she reached the landing, she said, “My mother’s at work.”

Kate dropped her suitcases on the shiny parquet floor inside. “On Saturday?”

Brooke disappeared without another word.

It wasn’t as if Kate were a guest or helpless. She’d grown up here and could find a room for herself. “Stay, Coco,” she said as if the little dog would move. She climbed upstairs and looked down the long hall. Three bedrooms and a bath on each side before a right turn into the other wing.

As she contemplated the staircase and the difficulty of carrying Coco up and down, she remembered a bedroom off the kitchen where their housekeepers had stayed years ago. With its private bathroom and proximity to the back door, it would fit her and Coco perfectly.

She found the linen closet and picked out everything she needed. From below came Coco’s soft whimpers. “It’s okay,” she shouted as she climbed down the steps. Words the elderly and nearly deaf dog couldn’t hear but it comforted her to say them. That short phrase was filled with optimism, the hope that everything would be fine, that her sister would welcome her and that Coco would live forever.

When she shoved the door to the small first-floor apartment open, she found a room empty of furniture but with a heavy covering of dust and a few cobwebs. She reached out to touch the wall and felt layers of dust on her fingers. Not up to Abby’s usual immaculate standards. That shoulder must really be bothering her to allow dust and cobwebs to accumulate anywhere in her house.

Our house, Kate corrected herself, as her parents had left the house to both daughters.

She went back to the kitchen, dropped the linens on the counter and tried to reorient herself. What she needed was a broom, dustpan, some rags and maybe a chair or two. Where would they be?

For two hours, while Coco slept on a spot of sunshine in the kitchen, Kate swept and mopped, wiped down everything in the small apartment. That completed, she opened the bathroom door and groaned at the state of the tiny place but plowed right in.

Kate had never been much of a housekeeper. At times she wished she’d inherited a smidgen of her mother’s compulsive need to clean in her own genetic makeup, never more strongly than now.

“Are you going to stay in here?” Brooke called from the hall outside the bedroom.

“Yes.” Kate stood and stretched.

The child glanced around the small area and shook her head.

With one last scrub of the bathroom sink, Kate asked, “Why’s your mom at work?”

“Trying to get caught up on stuff.”

Exactly like Abby. “Why aren’t you out with your friends on a pretty day like today?”

Brooke twisted her hair with a finger. “I don’t feel well,” she mumbled. “And I like to read. In my room.”

Kate didn’t pry further. “Is there a bed anywhere I can use?” she said.

Brooke said nothing. Like her mother, Brooke gave less information than anyone needed, but Kate refused to play that game. Arms crossed, she waited.

“There’s a shed in the backyard,” the child finally said.

Oh, yes, the old shed. Her father had used it for his woodworking shop, his tools mixed companionably with her mother’s gardening equipment.

“Thanks.” But Brooke was gone.

An odd child, but with Abby for a mother, who wouldn’t be? Kate had been surprised that a man as nice as Charles Granger had married Abby, had actually seemed eager to, but he had and this lonely child was the outcome. Where was he now?

Thirty minutes later, with the rooms tidy, Kate headed out back to the shed. Once in the backyard, she paused to remember the glory of her mother’s flower beds, imagining the heaps of orange and yellow roses and beds of tulips and daffodils of brightly colored blooms now replaced by thick grass. She wished she’d come back years earlier to see Mom attacking the weeds and fooling with her flowers while Dad built stuff in his workshop. An aching sense of loss rolled over her.

In honor of her mother, maybe she’d plant something while she was here. What else did she have to do except take care of Abby after the surgery? Gardening would allow her time away from Abby before they drove each other crazy.

But she wasn’t going to be here long enough. She’d be leaving in a month, getting on with her life, whatever that meant. She headed to the shed again and shoved the door open to see a jumble of furniture that seemed to have woven itself into an enormous granny knot.

A mattress for a single bed slumped close to the door. She gave a tremendous tug and pulled it out of the building while everything inside shifted with a crash. With a firm grip, she dragged the mattress across the lawn and up the steps. This was like towing a huge piece of overcooked spaghetti, but she finally steered it into the house and dropped it in the kitchen as she gasped for air.

She’d moved the thing this far by herself, and that counted as a big success in a year that hadn’t had many. With a few more shoves, she got it into the bedroom. Heady with her victory over the obstinate mattress, she grabbed the sheets and made the bed. That finished, she stepped over Coco and headed to the enormous closet in the front hall.

As a child, she’d taken very literally the scripture advice about where to pray. Back when she was a faithful Christian who really did believe, she’d shut herself in this closet to meditate. Even today the scent of wool and mothballs made her want to fall on her knees.

Shoving away the memory of her former piety and the disappointments that had scuttled her faith, she opened the door and flipped on the light. Yes, the card table and folding chairs were still stored behind the coat rod. She pushed the coats back, picked up a chair and slid the table back to her room. By that time, she realized it was three-thirty and she hadn’t eaten lunch yet. A grilled cheese sandwich sounded good and easy.

“What are you making?” Brooke asked.

Kate started when she heard the voice. The child was so quiet, it was like being stalked by a silent, sulky phantom. “A sandwich. Do you want one?”

She shook her head. “Mother doesn’t allow me to eat between meals.”

“Okay, but I haven’t had lunch yet.” Why did she feel the need to explain herself to a—“How old are you, Brooke?”

“I’m nine.”

Why did Kate feel the need to explain herself to a nine-year-old?

She’d never known exactly when Brooke was born. The baby had suddenly appeared during the dark, silent period after Mom’s and Dad’s deaths.

Abby hadn’t told Kate about the accident that claimed their lives nearly ten years earlier, either. The first Kate knew they’d died came a month after the fatal automobile crash when the lawyer wrote Kate to explain the terms of their will and her inheritance of half of the estate. Her sister had neither written nor called to tell Kate about their passing or the funeral. She’d never known how to react to such a breach of family…well, conduct by Abby. Fury was the main emotion that filled her until she could finally sort through her grief.

During a telephone conversation almost a year later, Abby mentioned her daughter and, typically, hung up without giving her sister information about her only niece. Kate wasn’t about to beg. Pride, another one of her flaws, and a lot of anger kept her from pressing for more details.

All in all, the relationship between the sisters was a case of sibling rivalry gone very bad and very mean. It wasn’t all Abby’s fault, as much as Kate wished she could blame everything on her sister’s difficult personality. No, growing up with Miss Mesa County as a sister wouldn’t have been easy for anyone. Kate could admit now she’d been a jerk at times. Giddy with her newfound power to attract men, she’d stolen Abby’s boyfriend. Kate hated to admit even now that she’d done anything so petty. Abby had never forgiven her. Nor, she was pretty sure, had the other young woman she’d taken a boyfriend from.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to share half with me?” Kate flopped the sandwich on a plate and turned off the burner.

When Brooke shook her head, Kate poured herself a soft drink and sat down at the table.

Other than playing havoc with personal relationships, her self-centeredness had served Kate pretty well until her world blew up and she didn’t have the ability, strength or, really, the desire to deal with it. On top of that, who would have guessed she had a streak of honesty she couldn’t ignore? Not her.

When she discovered integrity wasn’t a trait greatly respected in her chosen career, she’d slunk back to Silver Lake, to care for the sister who still hated her.

Life sure served up curve balls sometimes.

Looking up to notice Brooke had flitted away again, Kate finished her sandwich, awakened Coco and opened the back door. Even with her bad hip, the dog was able to get down from the porch herself. The problem was getting back up.

While the cocker sniffed around in the yard and woofed several times, Kate opened the trunk of her car and pulled out the last of her things: her laptop, a box of her favorite books and a flower-covered gift sack, which contained the odds and ends saved over the past twelve years. Everything else—her chrome furniture, the Prada suits and Manolo Blahnik shoes—was in storage in Miami. She grabbed her purse, the now out-of-style Kate Spade bag that had cost way too much. She wished she had that money back now. She should have purchased something serviceable and much less expensive at JCPenney as she had her jeans and athletic shoes.

She toted the load into her bedroom. Then she chose a book from the box, grabbed her soft drink and settled in one of the cushioned chairs on the porch. She started to read, leaning her head back against the pillow and relaxing into the lumpy softness.

“Guess that long drive tuckered you out.”

Her eyes fluttered open. Birdie Oglesby, school librarian and a pillar of the church, stood on the porch about ten feet from her.

“Hello, Mrs. Oglesby,” she said around a big yawn as she stood. “I guess I dozed off.”

“Must have needed that nap. I’m just going to put this in the kitchen.” The thin little woman with a helmet of tightly permed white hair strode ahead of Kate. She swept into the house like an invader with no resistance in front of her, but an invader with everyone’s best interests at heart.

Kate hurried after her. Once in the kitchen, Mrs. Oglesby put a casserole dish on the counter before turning back to Kate, a sincere smile warming her features. “I’m glad you’re back, girl. Real glad.”

For the first time in months, Kate felt warmth seep through her and smiled back. “Thank you, Mrs. Oglesby. I don’t think that’s unanimous.”

“Most of the town is happy you’re back and the others? Well, some people are always negative. Probably no one could win them over, not even you at your most charming.”

“But I wasn’t always the most pleasant person, Mrs. Oglesby.” If Kate had hoped for contradiction here, she didn’t get one.

“None of us always are,” the older woman said. “Now you’re back to help your sister in her time of trouble and that wipes out a multitude of shortcomings. Goodness knows, you won’t get a thank-you from Abby, but when a family member needed something, you stepped up to the plate.”

“Anybody would’ve…”

“No.” Mrs. Oglesby shook her head. “Your sister was supposed to have surgery months ago. No one here would help her, so she finally asked you, and you came.” She waved at the dish she’d brought in. “This is a real good chicken spaghetti recipe. The church will bring food for this first week while Abby’s recovering. We’ll be back next weekend with more.”

“Thank you,” Kate said as Mrs. Oglesby headed outside.

“We’d like to see you at church tomorrow,” the librarian said as the screen door slammed behind her.

Kate had forgotten the generosity of small-town churches. Within the next half hour, fifteen more people brought food—salads, vegetable dishes, casseroles of all kinds, meat, several pies and a cake. As Kate gazed at the number of dishes on the counter, she heard a soft footstep behind her.

“Brooke, I could really use your help putting all this away,” Kate said before her niece could disappear. “Why don’t you come in and help me.” When Brooke continued to rock back and forth in the hall, one foot in front of her, the other behind, Kate added, “I don’t even know where the aluminum foil is.”

With dragging steps, Brooke entered the kitchen, opened a drawer and waved her hand at the contents.

“Okay, you and I have to decide what we’ll eat right away and what to freeze.” Kate began to wrap a pie. “What would you like for dinner tonight?”

Brooke pointed at the brisket and several other dishes. “And Miss Betsy’s red velvet cake,” she said with a bit of animation in her voice. Obviously the cake had power if it could elicit a positive response from Brooke.

“What time will your mother get home?” Kate asked after they finished wrapping and freezing the rest of the food. The question was answered by the sound of the front door opening and banging shut. Footsteps echoed across the hall and Abby came into the kitchen. No smile crossed her sister’s still lovely features, no light brightened her dark eyes at the sight of her only sister, but her stiff posture showed that Abby carried a load of tension in her shoulders, neck and jaw.

Kate started to hug Abby because, after all, wasn’t that what a person did when she hadn’t seen her sister for twelve years? Evidently not. As soon as she touched her sister, Abby stiffened even more and stepped back.

“Hello, Kate,” she said as if they’d seen each other only a few hours earlier and that experience had not been particularly pleasant. She moved around Kate and put the mail on the counter. “There’s a library notice for you, Brooke. Please take care of it.” She handed the card to her daughter and sorted through the other envelopes.

“What’s that?” Abby stared as Coco ambled into the room.

“That’s my dog, Coco.”

When Coco gave a woof, Abby laughed, not a mirthful sound. “You always said you’d have a dog named Coco, but I thought it was going to be a teacup poodle.” Abby shook her head. “This poor old thing looks terrible.”

“We’ve been together a long time.”

“Looks like it.” Abby slipped out of her crepe-soled shoes, picked them up and turned toward the stairway. “I’m going to change. What’s for dinner, Brooke?”

“Brisket, Mother.”

Abby nodded and walked from the room.

“When do you want to eat?” Kate asked her sister’s departing back and scolded herself for allowing Abby’s negative attitude to manipulate her again.

“She likes to eat at six, when she’s had a chance to rest,” Brooke filled the silence.

“Okay, six it is.” She gave Brooke the warmest, happiest smile she could manage and was surprised to see a slight curve of the child’s mouth. The curve disappeared instantly, but it was a start.



The three joined around the table Kate and Abby’s father had built years earlier. “What’s your job now?” she asked Abby after they’d passed the dishes and filled their plates.

“Assistant office manager at the bank.” Abby cut her meat with her left hand to take the stress off her right side. “Not an easy job. The tellers are young and flighty. I have to put my foot down to get them to work.”

“How’s your shoulder?” Kate tried another topic.

“I’m having surgery. Rotator cuff. That should tell you.” She moved the joint a little and grimaced. “I wouldn’t have asked you if things had been fine or if there’d been anyone else.”

“I know. I’m glad I can be here. How did you hurt it?”

“I fell.” Abby took a few more bites of dinner. “I have to be at the hospital at seven Monday morning.”

“All right.” They ate in silence until Kate asked her niece, “Brooke, do you have plans for the summer?”

Brooke blinked as if surprised to be included in the conversation. “Swimming and reading. And I’m going to Waco to visit my father in August.”

Having all her efforts at conversation die, Kate gave up. They finished dinner in a thick, uncomfortable silence.

As if they had practiced this routine often, Abby stood and wordlessly left the kitchen and Brooke cleared the table. Before the child could start loading the dishwasher, Coco danced as much as her arthritic hips allowed toward her.

“What’s wrong with your dog?” Brooke asked.

“She likes to help do the dishes.”

“She does?” A frown wrinkled Brooke’s forehead. “How can a dog help?”

“Cleaning up. She hopes a scrap will fall or perhaps someone will put a plate on the floor for her to lick.”

Brooke glanced at her aunt. “You actually give her the plate to lick? Mother would kill me if I did that.”

“You don’t have to, Brooke. That’s just what she hopes.” Kate picked up a wet sponge and pretended all her attention was on wiping the table, but she could see Brooke select a piece of fat from her plate and toss it to Coco. The dog caught it and smiled. Brooke smiled, really smiled, back at Coco before she became all business and loaded the dishwasher.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” Kate said a few minutes later as she dried her hands.

Brooke studied her as if Kate spoke an unknown language. “You’re welcome.”

“Where are you sleeping?” Abby marched into the kitchen, anger filling her voice. “Why didn’t you take the room Brooke got ready for you?”

“Which one was that?” Kate glanced at Brooke. A look of pure panic crossed the child’s face. Quickly Kate added, “I decided to sleep downstairs because it would be easier for Coco to get around.”

Abby glared at the cocker. “You chose your bedroom based on where your dog would be comfortable?” Hands on her hips, she shook her head. “If that don’t beat all.”

Abby turned and strode to the small apartment, threw the door open and surveyed the inside. “There’s no bed in here, just a mattress on the floor.” She whirled to glower at Kate. “I’m not going to have this town say I made my own sister sleep on the floor. I’ll call someone to get a bed frame in here.”

As Abby stomped away, Kate called after her again, “That was my decision, Abby. You aren’t making me sleep on…” She stopped as it became obvious her sister didn’t want to hear the words.

“Thank you,” Brooke whispered.

Kate leaned against the counter to study her niece. “For what?”

“For not telling her I didn’t show you that room.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Brooke fiddled with her hair. “She didn’t want you here. Mother…well, Mother always gets upset whenever someone talks about you. I don’t like it when she’s upset.”

“No, I imagine…” Kate stopped her words. She shouldn’t agree with Brooke about how difficult Abby could be. “I imagine she loves you very much.”

Brooke stared at her as if Kate had come from an alien world. “Oh, sure.” She folded the dishcloth and hung it from the sink divider.

She watched her niece, her only niece and one of her two living relatives, leave the room. Was she Abby all over again?

Kate sighed. Why did she care? She wasn’t going to be here long enough to connect with Brooke. She couldn’t change anything in a few weeks, but the girl’s unhappiness pulled at Kate’s heart.

Only a few minutes later, the front doorbell rang. She glanced down. Her shorts had smudges from her earlier cleaning. She’d put on a fresh shirt for dinner, but it had a spot of barbecue sauce on the front from wrapping the brisket. She was barefoot, wore no makeup and guessed her hair stood up in spikes. Why did she care? No one was coming to see her, but because it might be someone with food, she’d better hurry. As she moved toward the entry, Brooke opened the door.

“Hey, Brooke,” a man said. “Your mother called. Said she had some furniture she needed moved.”

At the sound of that voice, Kate walked backward into the kitchen, almost tripping over Coco. She considered hiding in her room even though she knew the idea was cowardly. Besides, it wouldn’t do a bit of good. She suspected that was exactly where the furniture would be going.

In a panic, she glanced around again, searching for a way, any way, to escape.

The voice belonged to Rob Chambers. The one person in Silver Lake she’d hoped never to see again.




Chapter Two


Because the idea of escape seemed cowardly, Kate lifted her head and walked across the wide entry hall, her bare feet pattering on the hardwood floors.

Rob hadn’t changed much. His hair was still dark brown with a wave. Years ago, he’d worn a buzz so he didn’t have to mess with it. Now it was longer and brushed back in a great haircut.

When he heard her footsteps, Rob turned away from Brooke to watch her. His eyes were still that odd shade of deep blue. Well, of course they were. He had a slight dark shadow across his jaw which made him even more attractive, older and more masculine than the younger Rob had been.

Even now, he was trim, but he carried more weight than he had at twenty-two, most of it in broad shoulders and a muscular chest. He still wore what had always been his favorite clothing as a teenager: a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. And he had the same smile, the one that had always made her want to smile back at him. She couldn’t help but grin.

And she also couldn’t help but notice that his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Kate, great to see you. I heard you were back home.” Completely at ease, he reached out, put an arm around her shoulder and gave a quick squeeze before he stepped back.

“The prodigal returns,” she said. “Can’t hide news like that in a small town.” They studied each other for a few seconds before Kate asked, “What are you doing now?” He’d always wanted to be an architect, had gone to Texas A&M for that reason while she went to the University of Texas.

“I have my own architectural office in part of my house. We design houses and offices and other structures in about a fifty-mile radius.”

“That’s terrific, Rob.”

“You two know each other?” Brooke glanced back and forth between Rob and Kate. “Well, of course you do. Everyone here knows everyone else.”

“We went to high school together,” Kate said.

So far, this first meeting with her former fiancé was going better than she’d expected. All these years she’d carried a burden of guilt because she’d thought she’d broken Rob’s heart, ruined his life. He didn’t appear damaged, not a bit. He’d survived the departure of Kate Wallace quite well.

The old Kate would have been angry to be so easily forgotten. The Kate she’d become was glad Rob could greet her with a smile and an almost hug. Just because her life was in shambles was no reason to hope his was, too.

“In fact, we nearly got married before Kate left town,” Rob added.

Brooke’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Kate nodded at Brooke before she turned her attention to Rob. “How is Junie?” she asked about Rob’s wife.

Brooke and Rob looked at her for a few seconds, then at each other and finally back at Kate again.

“Junie died two years ago,” he said. “Cancer.”

“Oh, Rob, I didn’t know.” Kate put her hands to her mouth and shook her head in disbelief. “She was so young.” Only five years younger than Kate. Junie’d had the most beautiful red curls and was always filled with life and joy. When Kate heard through one of Abby’s infrequent letters that Junie and Rob had gotten married, she’d thought their home must be the happiest place in the world.

“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Rob didn’t meet her eyes.

Kate expected him to drop his head and study his athletic shoes, the move she remembered so well. Rob had always done that when he was uncomfortable or didn’t want to discuss something.

But that didn’t happen. Instead his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed and he lifted his head to glare over everyone’s head.

He’d changed. For a moment, she’d wanted to see the young man she recognized who’d been so courteous and kind. But he’d vanished and a man filled with rage had taken his place.

Almost immediately, he wiped the expression of anger from his face and, as if that reaction hadn’t taken place, said to Brooke, “Show me what needs to be moved.”

“I put a mattress in my room to sleep on.” Kate waved toward the room. “I’m not going to be here very long, so I don’t really need much furniture.”

“You’re not planning to stay around?” Rob asked. “Everyone’s speculating, wondering if you’re back for good.”

“I’m leaving after Abby recovers from surgery. The reason you’re here is that Abby thinks I need a bed frame.” She shrugged. “I’m okay with only a mattress, but my sister seems to think the neighbors will talk if I don’t have a complete bed.”

“How would the neighbors know?” Brooke asked.

Kate didn’t answer. She’d stopped trying to figure out Abby years ago.

“Well, if it makes Abby happy…” Rob said. “Someone show me the way.”

“I think there’s a frame upstairs,” Brooke said.

“If you’ll get that, I’ll clear a place for it,” Kate volunteered.

Rob started up the steps after her niece, then stopped on the landing to ask, “What size?”

“Single. Grab the easiest one to get to.”

“I plan to.”

She went back to the bedroom and shoved the sparse furnishings toward one side so Rob could set up the bed. She’d just leaned the mattress against the wall when she heard the sound of scraping across the kitchen floor. “In here,” she called.

Rob and Brooke moved gingerly around the corner, each holding sections of the metal bed frame.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve helped you.”

“There isn’t room for anyone else,” Rob said as he leaned the metal rails against the wall. “Fortunately this won’t be hard to put together.” He wiped a little perspiration from his forehead. “Do you want a headboard?”

“Do I need one? Will the frame hold the mattress without it?” When he nodded, she said, “This is fine.”

The three worked in the small space, running into each other as they joined rails and turned knobs until the rectangle came together.

“We’ll need to get a box spring to hold the mattress,” Rob said. All three went upstairs, found what they needed and shoved it down the stairs and into the bedroom.

Not that it was as easy as it sounded. They’d had to move several chairs and a bag of pillows to drag the springs from the room. When Rob and Kate pushed it down the hall, they nearly impaled Brooke against the wall.

The laughter that followed caused Abby to look into the hall and glare at them. “I’m trying to rest.” She slammed the door shut.

The movers bit their lips and guided the springs down the staircase, barely missing Coco, who waited for them at the bottom of the steps. Once in the bedroom, they all fell on the floor and laughed until Brooke jumped to her feet and ran from the room.

“What’s the matter with her?” Rob asked as he stood and held his hand out to help Kate to her feet.

“I think she’s embarrassed she was having so much fun.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“I know. It doesn’t make sense.” She shook her head. “You know I never understood my sister. Now I find her daughter nearly as baffling.”

In no time, they shoved the springs on the frame and placed the mattress on top.

As they turned to congratulate each other on the accomplishment, their eyes met and the years fell away. During that moment, Kate didn’t feel like the young woman who had the world before her and had traded Rob for that dream. No, for just a second, she felt like the girl he’d taken to the prom, like the girl who’d loved him so much, like the girl who’d always planned to come back to Silver Lake and marry Rob.

But she never had, and she was no longer that girl. And Rob had married someone else and been very happy.

“Daddy, Daddy.” A little girl’s voice came from the porch outside the kitchen door.

Immediately Rob stepped back and the fragile connection vanished.

“Yes, kitten?” He turned toward the door as a tornado with short red curls wearing pink overalls rushed inside and threw herself at Rob’s knees. Laughing, he picked the child up. “This is my daughter, Lora,” he said, his voice full of love and pride. “She had a birthday last month and is three years old.”

“Three.” Lora hesitated for a few seconds before holding up the correct number of fingers.

“Oh, Rob, she’s darling.” Kate started to reach her arms out to take the child, then stopped. Where had that reaction come from? She was not good with children, not a bit, and hadn’t had the slightest desire to pick one up for years. She stepped back a little and said, “She looks like her mother.”

He nodded as he nuzzled Lora’s hair.

“Puppy, Daddy. Puppy.” Lora wiggled in her father’s arms to get down as Coco ambled from the bedroom and gave a soft woof.

“She’s a very gentle dog.” Kate moved toward the cocker and crouched next to her.

Rob placed his daughter on the floor and held her hand as the child pulled him toward Coco. Once there, she patted the dog on the head. Coco smiled up at Lora, who fell to her knees and began to scratch the dog behind the ears.

“Daddy, I want a puppy.”

Rob shook his head in frustration. “Kitten, we’ve talked about this before. When you’re older and can help take care of a pet, we’ll find you one.”

“Daddy, puppy likes me.”

“Her name is Coco,” Kate said.

“I like Coco.” Lora smiled and her blue eyes danced with excitement.

“Don’t let my daughter take you in. She can charm anyone to get exactly what she wants.” But Rob’s gaze at his daughter was soft and filled with love. “Obviously she wants a puppy now.”

“You can visit Coco whenever you want, Lora.”

But the child was busy scratching Coco’s fluffy tummy. Rob and Kate watched the scene until a knock sounded on the screen door.

“Rob, I’m sorry.” An older woman with gray hair and Rob’s smile stood outside. “She got away from me.”

“Come on in, Mrs. Chambers.” Kate welcomed her as she opened the door. “How nice to see you.”

“Hello.” Rob’s mother nodded without making eye contact.

As had been her habit when she and Rob were dating, Kate reached out to hug Mrs. Chambers. When the older woman stiffened, Kate dropped her arms to her sides.

“Heard you were back in town.” Mrs. Chambers stared icily at Kate, then stepped away from her to talk to her son. “Rob, your daughter and I started toward the park, but Lora knew you were in here and took off.”

“She has a mind of her own,” Rob said.

“And you spoil her terribly.” Mrs. Chambers shook her head before she smiled. “It’s hard not to.”

“Kitten, I came here to help Miss Abby.” He bent his knees to speak to the child at eye level. “Why don’t you stay on the porch with Grandma. When I finish, we’ll get some ice cream.”

“Promise, Daddy?” She patted his cheek.

“I promise.” Rob kissed the small hand and stood, watching his daughter skip out to the porch holding his mother’s hand. “And mind your grandmother,” he called after them. “As if that’s going to make any difference,” he mumbled.

“Rob, go ahead.” Kate glanced at him, but his eyes followed his daughter. “We’re done. Thanks for the help.”

She put her hand on his arm, casually, like a friend. In an instant, Kate remembered how she’d felt for Rob years earlier. Odd that sensation remained after so long. Or maybe it was a reaction to this new and very attractive Rob.

“Do you want to join us for ice cream?” Rob’s face showed not one bit of enthusiasm for her presence.

As she studied his square jaw and broad shoulders, she realized this wasn’t the Rob who’d taken her to the prom. This was the young man she’d left behind. No matter what he said, his expression told her that he didn’t want her to join them. Not at all.

“Thanks. I’m tired. Long drive.” She yawned. “Maybe another time.”

He turned toward the door.

“Your daughter is a doll.”

“Yes, she is.” He looked back at Kate, his eyes gentle with a father’s love. “She’s the joy of my life.”



That night Kate tossed and turned for hours. The mattress had a slightly musty smell and several odd lumps. As soon as she thought she’d found a comfortable position, she’d move a fraction of an inch and hit another bump.

At the end of the bed, Coco snored, the soft snuffles of an elderly dog. In the city, covered by the noise of traffic, the snores had never bothered her. Here in the quiet of the country, even the tiniest sound kept her awake.

But it wasn’t the mattress or Coco’s snores or the sound of the wind and the drone of insects outside her window that wouldn’t let Kate sleep. What ate at her and kept her awake was being home and not knowing how and where she fit or even if she did belong, here or anywhere else.

The problem was wondering what the future held for a woman who’d lost any hope of a reference for a new job in her field when she’d testified against her boss.

What kept her awake was the awareness that back when she grew up in Silver Lake, she’d known exactly what she wanted and had the confidence to go after it. Now she no longer possessed either that knowledge or assurance.

All of that kept her awake.



Kate woke up at seven-thirty the next morning. Sunday morning. The house was quiet. The silence shouldn’t have surprised her. The commotion she remembered from years earlier existed only in her memory and in Abby’s.

When Dad was alive, by this time on a Sunday morning, he’d been up for an hour fixing breakfast. The aroma of hickory-smoked bacon and coffee would have wafted from the kitchen while Mom dashed around waking her daughters and trying to keep them alert long enough to get out of bed and come down for breakfast.

If nothing else reminded her that her parents were no longer alive, the quiet house and the complete lack of tantalizing scents coming from the kitchen would have convinced her. The sense of loss hit her hard. For a moment, she felt the absence of her mother and father so strongly she had to hold back the tears.

How she wished she could go back all those years and wake up to see them smiling at each other and working together. Mom would be listening as Dad explained for the thousandth time how to cook bacon so it was crisp and the advantages of using newspaper to scour out the old black iron skillet.

She should have come home years ago.

Tossing the covers back and wondering why she was so wide-awake after tossing and turning half the night, Kate stood, slipped on her slippers and shrugged into a robe.

With Coco behind her, she wandered into the kitchen.

“What are you doing up so early?”

She jumped when she heard Brooke’s voice. Her niece had sneaked up on her again. “I thought I’d go to church with you this morning,” Kate said.

Why had she said that? She hadn’t been to church for years and hadn’t even considered it until the words emerged from her mouth. Maybe the fact was that she didn’t go to church in New York or Houston or Miami but she did in Silver Lake. Well, attending the service probably wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, it would be nice to see the people who’d been so nice, who’d brought food, and to accept Mrs. Oglesby’s invitation.

“We don’t go to church,” Brooke said, her voice muffled as she stuck her head in the refrigerator.

When Brooke straightened and pulled out a jar of jelly, Kate asked, “You don’t go to church? We always went to church when I lived here.”

Brooke could have said, “You haven’t lived here for a long time,” but she didn’t. Instead she twisted the tie off a loaf of bread, took out a slice, put it in the toaster and pushed the lever down. Any observer would’ve thought the silver surface covered the most fascinating invention in the universe from the way the child contemplated it.

“Well,” Kate asked the back of Brooke’s head, “do you want to come with me?”

Brooke turned and stared at her aunt with those somber eyes, looking older and sadder than any nine-year-old should be. Of course, Kate hadn’t been acquainted with many nine-year-olds since she helped with the junior fellowship at church when she was in high school. None of those kids had ever gazed at her like this, their expression full of sorrow.

“Okay,” Brooke mumbled before the toast popped up and she grabbed it.

Still a little surprised by her decision to go to church, Kate decided to skip Sunday school and eat a leisurely breakfast, occasionally dropping a tidbit for Coco. As she read the paper, she noticed that Brooke would glance at her aunt, then surreptitiously drop a small piece of toast to the dog.

By ten-thirty, Kate had showered and dressed in a nice pair of taupe slacks and an ecru silk shirt she hoped would be acceptable for church in Silver Lake. She hadn’t brought a dress with her—she hadn’t planned to go anyplace that needed one.

By ten-thirty, she was also running late. She left Coco sleeping on her bed, grabbed her purse and ran outside to the front porch where Brooke waited. “Do you want to walk or ride?”

Brooke didn’t say a word, just looked in the direction of Kate’s car with a raised eyebrow. The silent response was obvious. She wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing.

“Okay, let’s walk.”

It wasn’t far. As children, they’d made the trip in less than five minutes, but today Kate wore sandals with two-inch heels and was accompanied by a less than enthusiastic companion. Even with all that, they arrived five minutes before the service started.

With each step, she could see more of Bethany Church. She’d always thought it was a lovely building and had compared it favorably to every church she attended before she stopped going completely five years earlier.

At the end of the first block, the tall wooden cross on top of a roof shingled with black slate punched through the treetops. She kept her eye on it and the few cars on the street as she encouraged Brooke to keep up with her.

When they crossed the street Kate saw a woman coming toward them, a woman who glowered at Kate as if she were the lowest form of life in the universe.

Kate forced herself to smile into the frown of Sandra Dolinski. “Hello, Sandra. How are you?”

Sandra didn’t answer, only stared a few more seconds before she turned and strode away as Kate watched.

Although yearning to say something to that straight, judgmental back, Kate bit her lip. She’d hoped her long absence had washed away any resentment about how high and mighty Kate Wallace had been back then.

Guess not.

“Who was that?” Brooke asked. “Why was she so mean?”

“I wasn’t always nice when I was in high school.” Kate headed toward the church again, not wanting to explain that Sandra’s was one of the boyfriends she’d stolen. She had to apologize to her someday.

After the confrontation with Sandra, Kate really did worry about her reception at church. Would there be others there who remembered the old, petty, conceited Kate? Who would like to get back at her?

She pushed the thoughts aside and kept walking. She could hardly turn around and go back home now, not when she’d talked Brooke into coming, not when it meant giving in to Sandra’s anger.

When they were half a block from the church, the windows of the youth and children’s Sunday school department peeked through the leaves. Cars turned off the street and into the parking lots or pulled up to park against the curb.

Next, the beautiful stained-glass window of Jesus praying in the garden appeared through a break in the branches.

Finally, as they turned onto the broad sidewalk in the front of the building, she saw the strength and beauty of the church. Built of pale gray limestone quarried from the hills in the area, it looked as if it would stand for eternity. As she entered the front doors, she was struck by a deep yearning for the faith that used to sustain her. Even stronger was regret that she’d lost the assurance of that faith over the past few years in the shuffle of her life, under the layers of what she’d thought was more important.

They were late enough that most of the congregation had settled in the sanctuary except the few who straggled in from the street with her. Through the open doors between the sanctuary and the greeting area, she heard the organist playing the prelude and a low buzz of conversation. No one had ever learned that the prelude was supposed to be a time of quiet meditation, not a meet-and-greet session. Another thing that hadn’t changed in Silver Lake over the years.

She took three more steps until she stood barely inside the sanctuary. A woman she didn’t know handed her an order of worship and Brooke tugged at her hand to pull her down the aisle. Oddly the child headed toward an empty pew while Kate, afraid there were more like Sandra Dolinski inside, wanted to whirl around and run.

Who was she fooling by coming to church after so many years? Certainly not God.

Why was she here? Although she knew most of the people inside would welcome her, she feared the judgment and gossip that might greet her after her time away.

Many years earlier she would have prayed for strength from God, but they weren’t on that good of terms anymore. All her fault, she knew.

The irony that today she needed strength from God before entering His house was not lost on her.

“Come on, Aunt Kate,” Brooke whispered loudly enough for everyone inside to turn around and watch them.

She took a deep breath and followed Brooke toward a pew a few rows behind Rob and his mother and across from Mrs. Oglesby.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered. “What am I doing here?” And yet, as the service began, the music filled and lifted her; the beauty and truth of the scripture inspired her; and the sermon both challenged and comforted her.

After the service, people gathered around her, people who greeted her and were glad to see her. A lovely surprise.

“So nice to have you home,” her grade-school principal said. “We’re proud how you stood up against that crooked congressman.”

“Takes a lot of courage to do that,” Mrs. Watkins, her high school journalism teacher said, and patted her on the shoulder. “Good job.”

Mrs. Watkins had what was called “big Texas hair.” So blond it was almost white, it puffed from her head like a giant dandelion-gone-to-seed, but a very nicely colored and well-coiffed dandelion-gone-to-seed. Like other women with “big Texas hair” she had flawless makeup and her fingers, ears and neck—every square inch possible—glittered with jewelry.

“Thank you.” She’d always loved this teacher. Mrs. Watkins’s enthusiasm and knowledge had been her motivation for getting a degree in journalism.

Grabbing Kate’s hand with her beautifully kept fingers, Mrs. Watkins said, “If you’re looking for something to keep you busy while you’re here, I’ve got a part-time job at the Sentinel. I’m editor there now.”

“You are? Congratulations.” But before she could tell her she was not interested in a job, people surrounded them, chatting.

After more greetings and pats on the back, Kate knew why she was in this place, in Bethany Church.

“Thank you, God,” she whispered as she left with Brooke. “Thank you for bringing me home.” Even if the methods God used seemed circumspect and the road home bumpy, she was grateful. It felt good to be here, to be welcome. To belong.

Now all she had to do was to persuade Sandra Dolinski and her sister to forgive and accept her, too.

Without a lot of guidance and grace from God, there was little chance of that.




Chapter Three


Kate hated hospitals.

Not that she’d ever spent the night in one. She’d spent only a few minutes several times cheering up sick friends.

And not that everyone else in the world loved hospitals. Other than the staff, probably no one even liked hospitals. She guessed every patient tucked into pristine cubicles wished they were someplace else.

In the waiting room, Kate leaned back in a metal chair with a thin cushion upholstered in sticky plastic. Yawning, she shifted in an attempt to find a comfortable place, but a comfortable position didn’t exist.

She’d gotten up at five-thirty that morning to dress and grab a cup of coffee before she awakened Brooke. While Brooke ate, Kate took Coco outside, found a tree with plenty of shade and settled the dog there with a bowl of water and a blanket.

That accomplished, Kate dashed into the house and glanced at the clock. It had been almost six-fifteen. The doctor wanted Abby at the hospital by seven.

Now sitting in the surgery waiting room while Abby was being prepped, Kate began a gradual collapse. She was not a morning person—5:00 a.m. was the earliest she had been up for years, and certainly not since she was a hot new reporter for the morning report on a Houston television station.

As she began to doze, through the fog she heard the approach of footsteps. When they stopped in front of her, she opened her right eye a slit to see Reverend Moreno. With a start, she jumped to her feet and reached out her hand. “Good morning, Reverend. How nice to see you.”

He took her hand and shook it. “And a surprise I believe from your expression.” His English held a slight Spanish accent and an interesting rhythm, almost like a song. “I come to the hospital anytime a member of the congregation is admitted.” He let go of her hand. “Please sit down.”

When she did, he sat next to her.

“Is Abby still a member of the church?” she asked. “From what Brooke said, they don’t attend regularly.”

“No, they don’t, but they are members and may return to us.” He smiled. “After all, we must never give up on the leading of the Holy Spirit.”

Kate nodded and struggled not to yawn.

“You must be tired.”

“I’ve had a busy few days, and I don’t like getting up early.”

“And yet you came to church yesterday. Everyone was glad to see you.” He nodded in a very pastoral manner. “I hope you’ll come again.” Reverend Moreno stood. “Do you want to come with me while I pray with your sister?”

“No, but thank you.”

As the minister headed toward preop, Kate wondered why she hadn’t gone with him. Praying with her sister might open something up between them. That would be good. However, it could also toss up another wall between them if Abby felt Kate had intruded on her private space. Hard to guess Abby’s reaction but more likely the latter.

After several cups of coffee, a couple of walks around the small hospital, reading every page of the Austin newspaper and an ancient People magazine and watching the morning news, a woman dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the operating suite.

“Miss Wallace?” she called after glancing down at a chart she held.

Kate stood. “I’m Kate Wallace.”

“I’m Dr. Norris. Your sister did fine. The operation should resolve the problem.”

“Good.”

“She’s in recovery now. If you’d like to go to room…” The doctor consulted the chart. “Five-eleven. She’ll be there in a short time.”

“Five-eleven,” she repeated. “Thank you.”

Leaving the waiting room, Kate headed toward the patient wing. Once she found the room, she settled into the reclining chair and, again, closed her eyes.

Abby would be in the hospital for a day or two, then they’d release her to Kate’s care for a convalescence lasting four to six weeks.

If they both survived that long.

There she went again, always thinking about herself. The convalescence would be harder on Abby than on her. Her sister would be in pain. Even worse, she’d have to accept the help from—in fact be completely dependent on—Kate, the sister she’d never particularly liked. Because the entire situation would be difficult for Abby, Kate should—would—have to be nice. Try to be nice. Force herself to be nice.

She’d always worked with the public and, over the years, had developed a method of dealing with difficult, demanding people. But this was her sister, the woman who knew every one of Kate’s hot buttons and loved to push them.

However, this older Kate Wallace knew how to deflect those barbs better than she had as a child. Besides, she really wanted to get along with her sister.

How far would good intentions take her? She closed her eyes and sighed. The four-to-six week thing began to sound longer and longer.

“Excuse me.” An orderly entered. “We need you to leave until we have the patient settled.”

After she stood and left the room, two orderlies wheeled in a gurney with Abby on it and a nurse followed.

In the hall, Kate paced up and down for a few minutes before she saw Rob emerging from the gift shop with a bouquet of yellow roses.

For a moment, she stopped and watched him, the determined gait, broad shoulders covered by a blue knit shirt and the confident lift of his head. Wow. Rob was gorgeous. A real man, he’d draw the interest of any woman in Houston or Miami. Here his good looks and self-assurance filled the narrow corridor with potent and very masculine appeal.

“How’s the patient?” he asked before he glanced at a note in his hand. “She’s in room five-eleven?”

As she fell in step beside him, Kate forced her senses from her sudden and unwelcome interest in Rob and her brain back to her sister’s health. “The doctor says she’s doing well.”

“But?” He glanced at the closed door then back at Kate.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. She just got out of recovery and they’re getting her settled.” In a flash, the enormity of what lay ahead, weeks of taking care of Abby, overwhelmed her. She leaned on the wall and took a deep breath.

“Worried?”

She glanced into eyes that showed concern. “I thought I knew what I was getting into, but, Rob, I’ve never been a good nurse and Abby and I’ve never gotten along. What if I can’t do this?”

“Hey, you’ll be fine.” He studied her face. “I know how determined you can be. Once you start something, you don’t give up.”

She attempted a smile. “That’s not always true.”

“Often enough,” he added in a voice filled with certainty. “Kate, you can.”

“I hope so.”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I saw you in church Sunday. I didn’t get to greet you because I had to pick Lora up from children’s church.”

“I saw you.”

“Kate, I don’t know if you still pray like you did as a kid.” He reached out to touch her arm but it seemed as soon as he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand. “If you don’t think you can handle things, pray about them. There’s a source of strength outside of us. You used to know that.” His gaze stayed on her face. “I don’t know if you do anymore, but you did. He’s still there.”

“I’m really out of practice.”

“‘Whisper a prayer in the morning,’” Rob sang softly.

The tune took Kate back years, to church camp and the memory of the voices of two hundred high school kids lifted in song. “‘Whisper a prayer at noon,’” she sang back.

“See? You remember.”

How could she forget? The song reminded her of a time she believed God answered prayers. Why had God seemed so close, so present in her life when she was young? How had she lost Him? Well, she hadn’t so much lost God as misplaced Him beneath priorities that no longer seemed so important.

The door to Abby’s room opened. “You can come in,” the orderly said as he left.

Rob held out the bouquet. “Do you want to take these in?”

“No, she’d like to see you.” She pushed the door open and looked inside. Abby lay on the bed closer to the hall. Her right arm was strapped securely across her chest, which would probably make sleeping difficult.

She was pale. With her eyes closed, Abby’s long lashes showed as a dark fringe against her chalky cheeks. Kate moved silently across the few feet that separated the door from the bed. She put her hand on her sister’s left shoulder and whispered, “How are you doing?”

Abby’s eyes opened a slit at the same time her jaw clenched. “Hurt,” she muttered. “What did you think?”

“Did they give you something for pain?”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

“Abby, Rob’s here. Would you like to see him?”

Abby nodded again.

After he entered, Rob placed the flowers on the bedside table then moved next to Abby’s bed. “How’re you doing, slugger?”

Slugger? She couldn’t imagine anyone calling Abby that.

“Okay.” She sighed. “Groggy.”

“I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

Abby nodded only a moment before her eyes closed.

As they moved toward the door, Kate whispered, “Thanks for coming.”

“If I can help you, call.”

After Rob left and with Abby sleeping, Kate headed toward the hospital cafeteria. As she ate her salad, she wondered if Rob remembered what else had happened at church camp or if he’d buried those memories, replaced them with newer ones.

But she’d never forget that it was there on the banks of Silver Lake she’d received her first kiss and fallen in love with Rob.

Did he remember that? Probably not, because she’d left him, he’d married Junie and thoughts of their lives together had replaced the earlier ones. Maybe it was Kate who hadn’t moved on, who was filled with recollections of their years together.

After lunch, the afternoon turned into a boring few hours as Abby slept. At four, Kate stood. “I’m going home to check on Brooke.”

As she walked past the nurses’ station, the head nurse said, “Miss Wallace?”

Kate stopped. “Yes?”

“The physical therapist will be here at eight in the morning to get your sister started on a few exercises.”

“But she just had surgery.”

“It’s better to start right away. Can you be here? You’ll need to help her with the exercises when she goes home.”

“Of course.”

A few hours later, after Kate took Brooke to see her mother, they grabbed a pizza. The child devoured her two-thirds and ran off to do homework while Kate again took her glass of tea to the back porch.

Kate leaned back in the chair and studied the sky while Coco patroled the yard. Without the competing light of a city, the stars shone so much more brightly here. She lifted her head to allow the breeze to cool her cheeks, a breeze that carried the fresh scent of lilac bushes and recently mowed grass from the yard across the fence.

From the Dkanys’ porch came the sound of a show tune. They’d always joked about whether Trixie or Paul had control of the radio dial. She liked oldies; he preferred country.

Surrounded by the familiar sounds and scents and the chirping of locusts, she was filled with peace. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, words which caused her to wonder how she’d been able to pray like that, so easily as if she were used to thanking God.

And how could she feel at home and at rest in a place she’d longed to escape nearly half a lifetime ago? She should be bored, but she wasn’t. She should long for the excitement of a life of running from one reception to another, from a meeting with this official to an interview with the press corp., but she wasn’t. She actually liked sitting alone in the backyard of her childhood home.

Why?

Finding no answers to her questions, she stood and called Coco.

“Come on.” She whistled. The cocker woofed then ambled toward her and sat at the edge of the porch, front paw on the step.

As she picked up Coco and put her on the porch she thought how handy it would be if there were some way Coco could get up on the porch by herself. Maybe some small steps or a lift. As if she could afford either.

Maybe she could put together some steps that would be easier for Coco to climb with rocks and scrap lumber. Rob probably had old wood at a construction site. Although she used to work in the wood shop with her father, putting such a project together was beyond her meager ability now. Besides, how would she get large enough rocks and how could she move them?

No, that wouldn’t work, but if she could build a sloping platform or maybe a ramp…

A ramp. Exactly!

After all, she was going to be here at least four more weeks. During that time, Coco needed to be able to get on the porch by herself.

A ramp would work. But who could she find to build it? Did Rob still like to work with his hands or was he too busy with his practice? She hated to ask him, even though he’d told her to call on him. It felt unsettling to be around him because, well, there was that attraction she couldn’t deny and didn’t want to feel. Being close to him was uncomfortable, which was absolutely absurd. They’d both gone on with their lives successfully.

The whole attraction thing bothered her for many reasons, not the least of which was because she’d just arrived home from a terrible change in her life, an experience which had taught her she couldn’t trust anyone, which had left her wounded and friendless. This was not the time to find any man interesting, especially not Rob.

On top of that, she realized her reaction wasn’t to Rob as the young man she’d been in love with. No, she saw him as the older, more mature and very different Rob. The whole awareness of Rob as a man made her slightly unbalanced and decidedly confused. She, who had dealt with high-ranking politicians, interviewed senators and governors and faced hostile reporters, was flustered being around Rob, whom she’d known all her life. How foolish was that?

But if she didn’t ask Rob, she couldn’t think of anyone else. Would someone at the church be able to help? They’d been awfully nice, but building a ramp for a dog would seem foolish to most people.

No, she’d have to continue to pick Coco up and put her on the porch and hope the cocker didn’t hurt herself trying to do that herself.

Didn’t some company manufacture portable ramps? If they did, she could handle that on her own. Just open it and leave it there while they were in Silver Lake, then fold it up and take it wherever they went.

She’d think about it, but first she’d better get inside and get ready for bed. This had been an early morning. Tomorrow she’d also need to get up early to get Brooke off to school before she headed to the hospital for the PT appointment.

With a yawn, she stretched and turned toward the house. The cocker followed her inside and into Kate’s bedroom. Or, as Coco probably considered it, the room she allowed her person to share.




Chapter Four


Bluebonnets covered the hills with a light purple haze, a shade somewhere between blue and lavender, which could seldom be caught in a photo or description. The sight filled Kate with amazing joy to be home.

Kate had started for the hospital a little earlier than necessary so she could catch the shimmer of the last trace of dew as the petals caught the sunlight. Although the wildflowers were not at their glorious peak, in a few more days the flowers would grow thick along the verge of the road and paint every inch of pasture with their vibrant beauty.

For a moment she pulled off the road to revel at the colorful scene before she stepped on the gas. Abby wouldn’t appreciate her arriving late because she’d been gawking at wildflowers.

After she entered Abby’s room ten minutes later, Roger Davis, the physical therapist, explained the process. “The idea of physical therapy is to teach the body that it’s okay for the joints to move.”

Abby lay flat, arms in the air to accept the cane the physical therapist placed in her hands.

“Don’t force the movement.” The therapist watched his patient before he turned to Kate and said, “You’ll have to make sure she does all six of these exercises five times a day.” He passed Kate several pieces of paper stapled together.

“I can do them myself,” Abby grumbled.

The expected response. Kate knew her sister wouldn’t take kindly to having her younger sister help her. Not in any way.

“You’ll also have to help Mrs. Granger with dressing, showering and getting out of bed,” Roger said.

“I can handle all of those for myself,” Abby repeated.

The therapist turned toward Abby. “Mrs. Granger, if you use that shoulder before it’s healed or don’t complete the PT, you may need surgery again.”

For a moment, Abby shut her eyes. After what looked like an intense internal struggle, she said, “All right,” in a voice that expressed grudging acceptance of the therapist’s warning.

“For the next exercise, you’ll need a pulley attached to a door and a rope with handles.” He handed Kate a diagram.

Kate studied the picture. “I’ll go to the hardware store and look for these.” She put all the information in her purse. “So, four to six weeks for recovery?”

“That’s pushing it a little.” The therapist picked up his clipboard. “More like six to eight. The injury was more complex than the surgeon expected.”

Six to eight? Well, okay. What difference did a few weeks make? Maybe with a few extra days, she’d know where she’d end up after her sister’s recovery.

By ten-thirty, Abby had received her physical therapy, prescriptions and discharge orders with a doctor’s appointment set for a week later. Over her continued protests, she’d been helped into a wheelchair and pushed by an orderly to the front door while Kate brought her car around.

On the trip home, Abby leaned back against the car seat holding her firmly immobilized right arm. Her clenched lips and pallor showed how much the surgery and the physical therapy had worn her out.





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