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Excerpt:
Prologue:
Jolene stood poised over the river bank, holding the end of a long frayed rope with both hands. Tree branches hung low over the water, offering a shady respite from the muggy stillness of the air. Her long auburn hair fanned over her shoulders.
Even at sixteen, her stance made Will think of Tarzan's Jane, ready to swing on a jungle vine and rescue her mate from the deadly jaws of a sharp-toothed tiger.
Jeff Stafford called, "Hurry up, Jo, we're all waiting for a turn."
She jumped up and out over the river, then dropped into the lazy blue-green water. When she surfaced, she laughed delightedly amidst cheers from her audience on shore.
Will knew the Stafford boys had been her constant companions since toddler days. Though they were all big and brawny, he'd heard stories that Jolene could outrun, outswim, and sometimes, even outwrestle them.
Jeff Stafford, the oldest of the clan, grabbed the rope as it swung back. Carrying it with him, he made a running start and flew out over the river. Jolene dove under to escape the huge splash he made.
When he came up beside her and tickled her well-rounded figure, she shrieked, "Jeff Stafford, you stop that!"
Will's jaw tightened as he watched from shore, his hands clenched in his pockets. That Stafford kid was getting awfully familiar.
"Hey," he shouted, drawing their attention.
When she turned and spotted him, Jolene's grin widened. "Why, if it isn't Will Bradley..." She brushed the wet strands of dark red hair off her face and called, "Come on in, Will. Join the crowd."
Growing impatient, Will shifted his weight. "Come here, Jolene, I need to talk to you." He waved an irridescent dragonfly out of his line of vision.
Jolene cast a teasing glance at the others, then back to Will. "Why don't you come get me? The water feels so good." She dipped in and out, her full breasts bobbing on the surface. Running her tongue over her lips, she watched him through lowered lashes.
He was suddenly angry, but couldn't have said why. "Get out of there now. Your mother sent me after you."
She emerged from the river with her dark eyes widened in alarm, questions tumbling from her. "Is something wrong? Is she sick? Is Pop okay?"
Will was unable to reply as he stared at her dripping form. The wet swimsuit clung so revealingly he couldn't swallow past the painful lump in his throat.
"Put your clothes on," he ordered in a raspy voice, without tearing his gaze from her.
She lifted her chin defiantly. "I didn't bring anything but a towel," she said, bending down to retrieve it off a low flat rock.
Will drew a sharp breath, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and draped it around her shoulders. When he touched her moist skin, he almost forgot why he'd come. He’d better remember her age and his own goals.
© Trace Edward Zaber
Chapter One
Will Bradley heard the rustling of leaves as soon as he stepped out of Mattie Hick's General Store. He stopped and glanced around, but not a breath of air stirred. A shiver passed through his body as he stood in the bright sunlight, puzzled by the premonition that hovered in spite of the warmth of the day.
He shifted the sack of groceries to his right side before crossing Main Street. As he paused in the middle of the road to allow a silver Pontiac to pass by, Will cast a casual glance at the driver, swore, and dropped the bag.
He stood staring until long after she'd turned the corner.
Jolene. She must have seen him, or was it only his imagination that their gazes met in the sideview mirror? What was she doing in Sunrise?
An old yearning returned as his heart hammered against his chest.
Nearly five years since she'd left, and he could still name the date. He should have forgotten, but hadn't.
Will felt a tiny flame of hope flicker to life, then with great determination, he forced it back into the shadows of the past.
Remembering the groceries and his precarious position on the center line, he leaned over to assess the damage.
Damn. He didn't have to open the carton to know most of the eggs were broken. A sticky yellow substance oozed out onto the bottom of the bag. Will scooped it up and went back into Mattie's store to buy more eggs.
He shrugged out of his jacket and wondered if it was the weather or the glimpse of Jolene that had made him uncomfortably warm.
Pop Springer was bent over a game of checkers with Mattie, a large-boned woman whose smile lit up the whole county. Her partner had been called Pop for as long as Will could remember, and he'd been courting Mattie for about the same length of time.
Pop's thick hair was as white as Mattie's was black, and she insisted hers was natural.
Will approached them, aware of the unwritten rule that said never to disturb a checker game, but he had to know. "Excuse me. Pop?"
The old man kept his concentrated gaze on the board, one hand hovering over a red piece. Then with an abrupt movement, he pushed the chair backward. "I can't think with you standin' over me, Doc. Whadda ya want?"
"Do you know anything about Jolene coming back to town?" Maybe he'd been blinded by the sun, and she'd merely been an illusion.
Pop's face reddened momentarily, then returned to normal. "Mebbe, why?"
Will pointed toward the street. "I'm sure I just saw her drive by."
Pop chuckled and slapped his knee. "Is that a fact? Why, that granddaughter of mine has more sense than I give her credit for."
Mattie poked at him. "What're you talking about, old man?"
"Nothin'." He picked up his red game piece and jumped two black ones. "Better pay attention, woman."
Realizing he'd get no more information from Pop, Will helped himself to another dozen eggs. He packed the carton, along with the undamaged items, into a new bag, then left the right amount of change on the counter.
"Bye, Will," Mattie said as he turned to leave, but Pop merely grunted.
Will crossed the street and climbed into his Jeep. Jolene was back in town, and there was unfinished business between them.
Jolene couldn't believe she saw Will Bradley on the drive through Sunrise. Just one glance, and her pulse had quickened. The May breeze ruffled his hair, giving him the rugged look she remembered. Her fingers tingled as if touching the thick strands.
The years hadn't dimmed her feelings for him as much as she'd hoped. All he'd ever had to do was look at her to throw the rest of the world out of focus.
Did a woman ever forget her first love? He'd always been in the corner of her mind, something she'd wanted, but had thrown away. But Will wasn't the reason she was here, she told herself firmly. She'd do whatever had to be done, then leave Sunrise as quickly as possible.
Jolene watched for the River Road turnoff. The closer she drew to home, the more tense she became. Perspiration lined her upper lip, and she gripped the steering wheel until her hands ached.
She hadn't told anyone she was coming, but she couldn't ignore the cryptic note from her grandfather. He'd never written to her before, so something must be wrong. All he said was, "Your mother and sister need you."
Did Pop realize the guilt he evoked with that one line? She suspected he did.
As she drove up the winding road, memories vied for her attention. Hay rides, laughter, the pain and joy of adolescence. These rugged hills and valleys and upland forests, laced with rich farmland held all her secrets.
Jolene's gaze took in the wooded hills, with their redbud and dogwood blossoms, as she fought the sense of homecoming that enveloped her. Her home was in Kansas City now, not Sunrise, Arkansas.
Her heart thudded as she pulled up to the house, a weathered, gray dwelling with a wide front porch. Jolene sat and stared for several minutes before she slid out of the car. The same limp curtains hung in the windows and the rooster weather vane perched on the roof.
The weeping willow, her tree, swayed with a gentle breeze that teased its branches. She'd hidden beneath it many times and pretended to be in command of all that she could see. Remembering the little girl she'd once been brought an ache to her chest. It was too bad she had to grow up.
With faltering steps, she climbed the creaking stairs.
Before Jolene could decide whether to knock or just walk on in, the door swung open, framing her sister. Francie called over her shoulder, "I'll be right back, Mama."
When the blond girl turned and saw Jolene, she shrieked as only a typical seventeen-year-old can. "I don't believe it! Mama, come quick, it's Jolene!"
Jolene's mouth curved into a broad smile. They threw their arms around one another without a moment's hesitation or shyness. Jolene inhaled the sweet scent of homemade rosebud soap. Apparently their mother continued to indulge that old hobby, claiming her soap was "kinder to the skin."
"How long can you stay? Are you still writing for the same newspaper? What else have you been doing?"
"Wait a minute," Jolene said, laughing. "I'll tell you everything you want to know, just as soon as I get out of these shoes. Don’t you read my letters?”
“Yeah, when I get them.”
Francie stepped aside to let her in. Silhouetted against the front room entrance was her mother, Hannah Springer. Her hair was more gray than brown, and the lines that should have made her face interesting only made her look old.
The two women stared at one another with love and pain intermingled. Theirs hadn't been an easy relationship, but Jolene hoped that time had finally healed the past. She moved toward her mother and put her arms around the thin body.
Hannah stiffened, then stoically accepted her daughter's embrace. Some things never change, Jolene thought, blinking to stop her tears.
Francie must've sensed the tension-charged atmosphere because her chatter quickened to fill the silence. "Come on up and see your room, Jolene. I keep it real clean."
Actually they'd always shared, and Francie had been adamant about calling it her room since Jolene left.
"You really must have missed me," Jolene said with a wry grin.
She wondered where Pop was. He hadn't lived with them before she left, but she knew he now used the sleeping alcove off the living room. Her swift glance took in the blue braided rug, the flower-covered furniture and, as always, the TV Guide on the maple coffee table.
Heaven forbid if anyone misplaced the TV Guide. She chuckled softly.
"You two go on upstairs while I put the kettle on," Hannah offered in an awkward, and belated, gesture of welcome.
Jolene watched her go and felt a slight twinge of sympathy. She realized her mother had suffered and saw her as a washed-out woman who'd never had much control over her life.
When Hannah turned into the kitchen, Jolene followed Francie up the stairs. Her fingers traced the faded rose-pattern wallpaper that graced the hallway, the family's only concession to decorating. That was before her father had died.
Her mother obviously wasn't overjoyed that she'd come home. Why had Pop written? Was he ill and no one else knew?
"You look great," Francie was saying as she opened the door to her room.
"So do you," Jolene said admiringly. She slipped off her shoes and stockings, her Ozark childhood habit taking over.
"You really think so?"
"Yes, I do." Jolene gazed into the girl's pixie features and squeezed her tight. She should have been here for Francie, but that hadn't been possible. "Tell me. How's everything here?" She sat on her old bed, running her fingers over the tufted spread.
Francie clasped her hands behind her back and shuffled her feet, her eyes downcast. "Okay, I guess."
Jolene tried to sound offhand as she asked, "What about Mama?"
Francie hesitated, then answered. "I don't know, Jolene. It seems harder than ever to get through to her. It's like she doesn't care about anything anymore. I don't understand it."
"She's been like that since that bum..." Jolene shivered, thinking of their stepfather; she hated giving him that title. If only he'd never come into their lives and left his legacy of destruction.
"I was glad when he left," Francie said in a subdued tone. "Have you seen Will?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
Jolene narrowed her eyes. Was Francie also susceptible to Will Bradley's quiet charm, or was this simply hero worship? She'd wondered ever since her sister's letters had become full of stories about his fledgling practice.
"No, I haven't," Jolene lied. Steering the conversation away from the young doctor, she asked, "Want to help me unpack?"
Francie responded with a quick smile. "Sure."
Jolene had brought Francie a new outfit and couldn't wait to show it to her. They hurried downstairs and out to the car.
When they'd struggled in with two pieces of luggage, Hannah came out of the kitchen and asked if they were ready for tea.
Jolene glanced from Hannah to Francie before replying. "In a few minutes, Mama. I want to show Francie something."
The sisters dragged the suitcases up the stairs, laughing, their years apart vanishing. It's good to be home, Jolene admitted, if only for a little while.
With an air of expectancy, Francie helped hang up the clothes. Jolene couldn't make her wait any longer and reached into her suitcase for a white box tied with a red ribbon.
"For you," Jolene said, and her sister squealed as she took the gift.
Within seconds, the wrappings lay on the bed and Francie held up the sky blue top and a pair of designer jeans. "Oh, they're perfect," she said in an awed whisper.
"The top matches your eyes," Jolene said. "I hope everything fits. Why don't you try them on and we'll go down and have our tea."
She'd rather have coffee, but wasn't about to make her preference known. It would be considered an extravagance by her mother, as she'd heard countless times before.
When Francie had slipped into the outfit, Jolene was stunned as her sister posed in front of the mirror.
Francie stared at her reflection. "Is that really me?"
"It sure is, kitten," Jolene said softly. "You've grown up behind my back, haven't you?" It had been over a year since Francie had visited Jolene in Sacramento.
"Girls, your tea's gettin' cold. Now come on down here," Hannah called.
"Yes, Mama, we're coming," Francie replied, following Jolene out of the room. "Thanks, Jolene. I love my new clothes."
"You deserve them." It took so little to make her sister happy. She doubted if Mama ever took Francie shopping.
Hannah stood at the foot of the stairs, her hands on her hips. "You shouldn't be spending your money foolishly, Jolene."
Their sober-faced mother instantly stripped the joy from the moment with her caustic observation.
"I can afford it," Jolene said in a flat tone. "Besides, Francie needs nice things. She's seventeen, nearly eighteen."
"And I suppose the next thing she'll need is to paint her face like you do." Her words were heavy with the familiar censure.
As pain twisted her stomach, the earlier spark of understanding Jolene had felt for her mother struggled to survive. Why did Mama have to spoil everything? Couldn't she put the past behind her? But deep down, Jolene knew even she hadn't done that.
Loud footsteps on the porch broke into her thoughts, then her grandfather burst through the doorway with all his usual robust energy. Pop Springer was a big man whose presence seemed to fill the room.
He raised his bushy eyebrows. "Why glory be, if it isn't my red-headed wonder girl." His blue eyes danced with pleasure. "Come here, gal, and give your old grandpa a hug."
Jolene threw her arms around him, laughing as he lifted her off the floor. She could count on a welcome from the rest of her family, if not from her mother. That was enough for now.
When they pulled apart, he grasped her shoulders and studied her features, as if trying to read in detail all that had happened to her since she left.
With his scrutiny complete, he said, "There's something out on the porch for you, Jolene."
Jolene wondered what he was up to as she slipped past him and pushed open the door. She heard the creak of the swing behind her, then, "Hello, Joey."
She froze. Only one person called her that, and with a deep voice that turned her inside out. She felt like she was a teenager again, loving him so much she thought she'd die.
"Hello, Will," she said as she turned around, realizing how shaky she sounded. It was an effort to stay where she was when she wanted to go to him, even now.
Time had only made him more handsome. His hair was two shades darker than her own, but with the same touch of red. He wore it in a casual style his city counterparts would pay a day's wages to achieve. His blue-gray gaze traveled from her head to her toes.
Jolene discovered he could still make her skin tingle without touching her. She waited with a wary flutter tripping through her insides as he walked toward her.
"Why did you come back?" he said in a low tone.
"It's only for a visit," she told him quickly. Jolene didn't want him to think she was home because of him.
The warmth faded from his eyes and she felt cold.
"How have you been?" he said, as if forcing the words.
His voice was so soft, it prickled the hair on her arms.
"Fine," was all she could manage. "I'm real sorry about Old Doc."
"Thank you." He glanced away as if he didn't want to talk about his mentor and friend. "I hope you've been happy."
His gaze burned into her, and memories came flooding back. Happy? She nearly laughed.
"You did the right thing, leaving me," he said quietly, running his fingers through his hair. "I wanted what was best for you."
"It always was important for you to do the 'right' thing, wasn't it?" She knew her words were an accusation, but couldn't help it, even knowing what had happened was her fault.
"I’m sure you found someone more suited," Will said under his breath. He moved even closer. "Why now, Joey?"
She tensed. "Pardon me for not clearing my travel plans with you, Will. Why are you here?" She took a step backward to put distance between them.
"I gave Pop a ride. His truck's in the shop."
"Oh."
"Would you like to come in?" she asked, out of an ingrained politeness rather than any desire to prolong the agony of being near him. The less they saw of one another, the better.
He released a deep sigh. "No thanks. I was on my way to see a patient. I hope you have a nice visit with your family." He started to turn away.
Without any effort at all, Will could force that sense of panic into her throat. "I hear you have your own practice now. Congratulations, doctor."
"As I recall, you didn't much like the idea."
"It's what you wanted, isn't it?" And all she'd wanted was Will. If only she'd realized it at the time.
"Partly." His voice was intense, playing on her nerve endings. "And I hear you've been quite successful yourself. Your own byline in a major Sacramento newspaper."
She lifted her chin. "I've done all right."
"You wanted out of this one-horse town, as you called it."
"And you could never see past this place," she threw back.
Anger flared in his eyes and she knew she'd gone too far - again. She had no right to judge his love for this town and its people.
"Well, nice seeing you," she lied, for the second time since she'd been home. Being near him would never be as mundane as "nice."
He didn't bother to smile. "Yeah, maybe we'll run into each other while you're here." He hesitated as if about to say more, but didn't.
Jolene couldn't answer, but watched him take the steps out to his Jeep. She felt tears prick her eyes, and her throat ached. If she'd broken his heart, she'd also broken hers in the process. But she'd never let him know. They lived in two different worlds.
She turned and went into the house for a cup of bitter tea.
Will hadn't planned on seeing Jolene, but couldn't say no when Pop asked for a ride. Will felt a deep sense of regret. Years ago, he'd been afraid of his feelings for Jolene and doubted hers for him. They'd never seen eye to eye on any subject.
Her dark eyes could still see into his soul, haunting him. The outer corners lifted to give her an exotic look, and the last few years had made her even more beautiful.
"Just for a visit," she'd said, or rather, warned. She protected herself with an impenetrable wall, but she hadn't always.
Will thought back to the first time he'd noticed she'd changed from girl to woman. It was nearly six or seven years ago, on one of his summer breaks from college. He remembered how hot it had been...
Jolene had stood poised over the river bank, holding the end of a long frayed rope with both hands. That day was just the beginning of his problems.
Will shook his head, returning to the present. He exhaled in frustration as he turned onto the dirt road where his patient lived. Maybe the sooner she left town, the better.
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