The Lovesick Cure

by Pamela Morsi

  What do you do when your groom gets cold feet?

  For Jesse Winsloe, the answer is clear: head into hiding. Single again and laid off from work, Jesse flees to Onery Cabin to lick her wounds with her ancient aunt Will—a Granny woman with the secret to healing the lovelorn.

  Sure, Onery Cabin may be right out of Hollywood’s Lifestyles of the Poor and Hillbilly, but Marrying Stone Mountain has its charm—including the local physician’s assistant, Piney Baxley, a past recipient of Aunt Will’s pungent “heartbreak poultice.”

  Between folk remedies and a “no strings attached” romance, Jess is beginning to think she’s found her own brand of lovesick cure—because there’s nothing like a pinch of confidence and a dash of attraction to mend a broken heart.

  The Lovesick Cure

  To my wonderful guy, Bill geophysicist, mathematician, reseacher, handy-man, weaver, woodworker, genealogist, potter, civic activist, gardener, bookworm, photographer, a dad, a stepdad, paw-paw, grand-man, a reader of all my books and a critical voice I count on, and the very sweetest thing to happen to me in a very long time.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Reader’s Guide Questions

  The unalterable truth is that when a whirlwind romance blows into town, there is going to be havoc in the wake of the storm.

  Jesse Winsloe was part of that mess.

  1

  She stood with her parents near the aisle on the right side of the auditorium at Tulsa’s Lake Grove Middle School. For the past eight years, Jesse had been seated on stage with the faculty. This year, her expectation was to be in the audience—specifically, in the second row of the middle section, where “the families” sat. As the fiancée of the principal, Greg Wilkinson, that would have been the appropriate place for her. However, the reality was that she was no longer a faculty member or Greg’s fiancée. Instead, she stood with her mother, stepfather and her brothers, smiling, smiling, smiling as the audience of students, parents and community leaders applauded and welcomed the new happy couple. Principal and Mrs. Greg Wilkinson. HER Greg Wilkinson.

  “I’m just so happy for them. I’m just so very happy for them,” Jesse had repeated time after time already this evening. She needed to keep the phrase right on the tip of her tongue. She was determined that no other words would come out of her mouth. Nothing like cruel, faithless, betrayer or even heartless dickhead! could be spoken. She couldn’t let anyone guess how hurt she was.

  Jesse glanced over at her mother. Patsy Thackery’s smile was as broad as her daughter’s and just as fake. Beyond Patsy, Jesse’s stepdad, Roger, made no concession to pretense. His face was a thundercloud. The sight of his anger buoyed Jesse somehow. He was always on her side.

  Only her brothers were unmoved by the real-life soap opera. Austin, who’d just turned thirteen, had described Greg as “a dud.” And Ryan, who was eleven, had piped in, “Yeah, sis, next time pick a dude not a dud.”

  The two had laughed at their funny joke with enthusiasm. Jesse had managed a contrived chuckle. She deliberately sheltered the boys from her drama, her anger and her disappointment. This was their school and she didn’t want to complicate their love for it simply because the principal had dumped their sister.

  The traditional open house three weeks into the fall semester had been well attended by all the local families. They had toured the facilities, talked to the teachers, eaten half-stale cookies washed down by watery punch and now had been thoroughly welcomed, given a basic orientation and handed packets of material that most would never read.

  Jesse had not expected to attend. In fact, except for maybe prison, a war zone or a frat party, she could hardly imagine any place she less wanted to be. But her brother Austin was being honored for winning the Summer Scholars science competition. As his big sister and science mentor, she felt obligated to see him accept his award. He wanted her there and Jesse would not allow her broken romance to keep her away. He sat beside her now, clutching his gold-colored trophy with the molded plastic microscope on top.

  The ovation finally withered away and Greg thanked everyone for coming and then dismissed them as if the assembled crowd was just another classroom of kids lingering after the bell.

  With the deliberate smile in full force, Jesse turned to the aisle and tried to focus her attention on those immediately around her. She could not, however, stop herself from one quick glance toward the man with whom she had thought she’d spend the rest of her life. The man who had claimed to love her. The man she still loved.

  She tried not to remember that—tried not to feel that—as her family made their escape. Her mother, head determinedly high, made sure that they didn’t look hurried. But her stepdad managed to get them out to the parking lot in record time.

  “I’m just so happy for them. I’m just so very happy for them,” Jesse repeated to everyone who dared to ask.

  The five of them crowded into Roger’s aging Crown Vic. Jesse had thought that showing up as a family, a united front, would make things easier. But now as she slipped into the backseat beside her brothers, she longed for the privacy of her own car. She wanted to rest her head against the steering wheel and pour out her sorrows. But instead she smiled bravely at her kid brothers.

  “That didn’t go so badly,” she announced to the occupants of the car at large.

  Roger made a sort of grunt of disbelief as he maneuvered the vehicle into the long exit line to Eagle Ridge Road.

  “Jesse,” her mother said, “I think it would be a nice idea for you to get away for a while. Take a little vacation.” Patsy glanced over at Roger as she said this. He nodded in agreement.

  Jesse almost smiled. It was not so much in amusement as incredulity.

  “Yeah, great idea,” she said. “I’m thinking maybe the French Riviera. Unfortunately I don’t have enough left in my savings to get gas money to Oklahoma City.”

  Greg Wilkinson, former fiancé, was not Jesse’s only loss of the year. With the state legislature slashing funds for public education, Jesse’s job as an earth sciences teacher had disappeared. She’d been devastated. She loved her work and thought she was good at it. Greg had agreed, but it wasn’t about her qualifications as a teacher.

  “Three positions are going to have to go,” he’d told her. “It’s last hired, first fired. But you and Melissa Echohawk have the same seniority. She’s a single mom with two kids. What would it look like if I choose my own fiancée over her? I’ll let you go, then nobody can accuse me of playing favorites.”

  A great political move for Greg, a terrible c
areer hurdle for Jesse. But he had not explained it that way.

  “So you get to take a couple of years off,” he’d said. “You can still volunteer. You’re still an important part of the school, and it will give you time to plan our wedding. After that, well, I’m not opposed to starting a family right away. I mean, your biological clock is ticking.”

  So with the sound of wedding bells in her ears and dreams of baby buggies on her horizon, Jesse had accepted her job loss as a new adventure. For the sake of frugality, she’d given up her apartment and moved home with her parents. In one swift blow, she’d lost a career she loved, the camaraderie she’d shared with her colleagues and the friends and neighbors that lived nearby.

  Her consolation? Living happily-ever-after.

  But this sudden change of circumstances wiped that clean off the board.

  Sitting in the backseat of her stepdad’s car, Jesse barely managed to suppress a sigh.

  “Your mother and I will loan you money if you need it,” Roger told her. “We’d put a bit of cash by to pay for the wed—”

  He stopped himself midsentence.

  Jesse’s mother quickly rescued him. “It’s not a question of expense,” Patsy said. “And you can’t hide out in some resort by yourself. It’s not healthy. You should stay with friends or family, somebody who cares about you.”

  That did make some sense.

  “Most of my friends and family live here in Tulsa,” she pointed out.

  Her mother nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe Kelly would let you stop by for a couple of weeks?” she suggested. “The California desert might just be a breath of fresh air for you.”

  Jesse was sure that her former college roommate would tender an invitation if asked. But Kelly’s husband had just returned from an overseas deployment.

  “The last thing they need or deserve is a third wheel for their reunion,” she pointed out.

  Patsy nodded agreement.

  “There’s my sister in Boca Raton,” Roger said. “I’m sure she’ll take you in.”

  Roger’s sister seemed like a perfectly nice…stranger. Jesse couldn’t quite see herself hanging out with her during this heartbreak.

  “No,” Patsy said. “I think you should go stay a few weeks with Aunt Will. And she’ll be as glad to see you as you will be to get away.”

  Aunt Will, or rather “Ain’t Will” as it was pronounced among the family, was her nearest paternal relative. Jesse had loved spending summers visiting at the mountainside farm where her father had grown up. But over the years, she had become an infrequent visitor.

  “I don’t know,” Jesse mused, shaking her head.

  Roger’s car was idling as he waited his turn in the parking lot exit line. Suddenly someone tapped on the window. Jesse glanced up to see the happy newlyweds smiling in on her. She heard a very uncharacteristic curse hiss from her mother’s lips. Ignoring it, she bravely lowered the glass.

  “Roger, Patsy,” her former fiancé said by way of acknowledgment. “Guys.” He directed a half salute to her brothers. “We were so swarmed inside, I didn’t get to introduce everyone to Sarah.”

  Jesse only glanced at his new bride. Her eyes were on Greg, the man she loved. He was only medium height, but his slim physique made him seem taller. His pale blue eyes were honest and sincere and appeared studious behind his glasses. He was so achingly familiar, yet he was already changed. His blond hair was gelled and brushed back from his forehead. It was a look he’d sported when they’d started dating. She’d teased him about it, calling it “evangelist hair.” And to please her, he’d begun parting it on the side. The part was gone now, just as irrevocably as their engagement.

  “Hi, Jesse. It’s so wonderful to meet you.”

  A small, feminine hand had been thrust toward her.

  Jesse clasped it briefly, realizing she’d ignored the woman and had been staring at the man she was supposed to have married. Deliberately she focused all her attention on the woman who had come between them.

  “Greg has told me so much about you,” Sarah said. “I really hope that we can be friends.”

  Not bloody likely! Jesse wanted to scream. But she did not.

  “I’m just so happy for you,” she recited instead. “I’m just so very happy for you.”

  She hoped her words didn’t sound as bitter as they tasted.

  “I thought maybe we could get together next week,” Greg said. “Maybe the three of us could grab a cup of coffee, clear the air.”

  His smile was so sincere, so caring, so totally clueless. Greg didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was so happy, so Jesse should be, too. She had seen that look on his face many times. His openness and genuine concern for the students, their parents, even his employees was something about him she had so admired. Now seeing his concern directed at her, she had the almost uncontrollable urge to slap it off his face.

  “Oh, next week’s not good for me. I’m going out of town.”

  Sarah nodded, accepting—looking closely, one could even detect relief.

  Greg’s expression was puzzled. “Where on earth are you going?”

  “To see my Aunt Will,” Jesse answered. “The Ozarks are so beautiful this time of year.”

  Once she’d announced it, the die was cast.

  2

  Crying and driving had never been a good combination. Still, Jesse allowed herself the indulgence until she got past Springdale. But the twisting, narrow two-lane roads between suburbs of the regional metro and the rugged hills of Marrying Stone required her full attention. She had no choice but to wipe her eyes, blow her nose and keep focused ahead.

  She had been to the area frequently as a young child. But the last visit, during spring break from college, had been almost a decade ago. Jesse’s mother had never liked the Ozarks. Patsy had met Mac Winsloe when they were undergraduates at University of Arkansas, and Fayetteville was about as woodsy as her mother had ever wanted to get. After Jesse’s dad died, Patsy never really kept up with the innumerable cousins, uncles and aunts who lived there. So the countryside was not as familiar to Jesse as it might have been, and the back roads weren’t particularly well marked because the people who drove them all knew where they were going.

  Jesse was beginning to think she was completely lost when she saw the hand-lettered sign: Fresh Yarbs & Remedies. That was Aunt Will’s business.

  Yarb, Jesse knew, was the Ozark word for herb. Or maybe it was a combination word for roots and herbs. Her aunt Will was a gatherer and dispenser of yarbs. Locally she was what they called a “granny woman.” She’d spent her life prescribing tonics and folk cures.

  Personally, Jesse wasn’t that skeptical about treating headaches with lavender or dry skin with aloe vera. But she was fairly certain that you couldn’t get rid of warts by rubbing them with a dishrag and then burying the rag at a crossroad.

  Yet, a lot of people in the Ozarks believed in that kind of thing. Jesse’s father had said that he’d seen it happen and that Aunt Will was the best granny woman in the mountains. Even Patsy gave the old woman credit as a midwife. So Jesse didn’t consider her aunt to be a complete kook. When she’d made Jesse drink smelly teas, she’d held her nose and did her best as long as Aunt Will was watching. And when she sent her home with a jar of mud mixed with castor oil as a treatment for teenage skin, Jesse had thanked her politely and threw it in the first trash can after the state line.

  Carefully, she turned her aging subcompact car where the sign had indicated and slowly drove down the narrow road. A scattering of leaves covered the lane, obscuring the ruts in the dirt. The height of the trees at either side of the road gave a kind of claustrophobic feeling of the woods closing in. Jesse was grateful to reach the clearing and the half-dozen parking spots marked by felled timbers. Three were already filled. She pulled in near the front porch and gazed curiously at the two-story house with clapboard siding. It was certainly the right place, but it looked all wrong. Aunt Will’s washing machine was still sitting on the porch, but it loo
ked more like a decoration than an appliance. Along the front a number of antique signs and tools had been hung for effect and a flag declaring Natural Products for Holistic Health fluttered in the breeze. Somehow this spruced-up, country charm appearance was unexpected for Aunt Will.

  Jesse turned off the engine, got out of the car and made her way to the entrance.

  From the porch, the metallic odor of medicine was overlaid with a familiar aromatic scent. Even knowing almost nothing about Ozark yarbs, Jesse was certain that eucalyptus was not a native species. She stepped inside.

  The place looked nothing like Jesse remembered. In the space that she recalled as Aunt Will’s living room and dining room were aisles of little barrels and fake onion bins. Each was filled with bottles of every size. Brown bottles with yellow labels, white bottles with green labels, blue bottles with green labels, each clearly marked with items such as psyllium, glucomannan and acidophilus. There were also shelves full of weight loss supplements and muscle builders. A clear-fronted refrigerator was filled with energy drinks and organic yogurts. A few people wandered throughout the store carrying small, cutesy decorated apple baskets for shopping. In the center hallway fronting the stairs was a counter, built deliberately reminiscent of a rural general store. The image was ruined, however, by a pierced and tattooed teenage girl minding the cash register. She was seated upon a high stool, completely engrossed in a popular vampire novel. The other customers eyed Jesse curiously as she stepped up to the counter.

  “Uh…excuse me.”

  The girl glanced up at Jesse and bellowed “Mom!” before returning to her book.

  A minute later the door at the back of the hall that Jesse remembered as leading to the kitchen opened and an older version of the pierced person stepped into the store. She had an aging hippie appearance with long dark hair streaked with gray, pulled back in a braid. Behind large round eyeglasses, the woman’s greeting was friendly and warm.

  “Hi, I’m Marcy. May I help you with something?” she asked.