by Shirley Jump
“And are you nervous now?”
“Hell, yes.”
She laughed. “Good. Because I am, too.”
“Don’t be nervous, Jenna. It’s just me.” He brought his face closer to her hair, inhaling the light vanilla-cinnamon fragrance. For a moment, he was lost, in the feel of Jenna in his arms, the scent of her teasing his senses. His gaze drifted along her delicate jaw line, and his body tensed as the desire to kiss her there, to trail kisses all the way down her body, rose inside him. His mouth hovered over her skin, so close his breath made little paths in the fine hairs along her neck. He pressed Jenna closer, until her body and his merged, their steps becoming one and the same. He ran a hand down her back, the dress hitching a little with his touch.
“What are we doing?” Jenna whispered. He could feel the words against his shoulder, and more, feel her tremble as she spoke them.
“I don’t know.”
It was the truth. He didn’t know what he was doing. Or why. All he knew was the sound of this insistent need, pounding inside him, telling him he couldn’t let her get away again. Even as he knew they hadn’t settled a thing, and as far as he knew, the life she wanted was the same one she’d wanted when they’d broken up.
One that would not include him.
“We shouldn’t…” she said, but didn’t finish the sentence.
“We’ve already made this mistake,” he said, and still his lips hovered over her neck, and the pounding kept pace with his heartbeat.
“Yeah,” Jenna said, then she turned her head just enough so that her mouth was under his.
The band had stopped playing, and around him, the sound of cheering and counting finally infiltrated Stockton’s brain. Midnight—they’d reached midnight and everyone was counting down those last few seconds. A sense of magic filled the air, highlighted by the shiny decorations, the sparkling confetti littering the tables. It seemed, at that moment, as if anything was possible.
As if anything he wanted could be his.
The crowd laughed, glasses raised, an air of happy anticipation filling the room, but still Stockton’s attention was riveted on Jenna. Her mouth, her touch. Simply…her.
People chanted the numbers together. “Ten…nine…eight…”
“We could get hurt again,” he said.
“Five…four…three…”
“Very hurt,” she whispered, and her gaze locked on his. The heat that had been building between them reached a fever pitch. His gut tightened with desire, and he realized that the most magical thing in the room was Jenna.
“Two…one…Happy New Year!” Cheers erupted around them, horns blew, glasses clinked and the band launched into “Auld Lang Syne.”
They were old acquaintances, just as the song said, and if they were really honest with each other, they’d admit the truth. They’d never forgotten, not for a moment. And right now, all Stockton wanted to do was remember her, remember this.
“Happy New Year, Jenna,” Stockton whispered, then he closed the gap between them and kissed her.
Jenna melted into Stockton’s arms, her resistance gone the second he’d lowered his lips to hers. Heck, she’d been unable to resist that man from the day she met him. She’d always been attracted to Stockton, truth be told.
And kissing a man who had known her as long as Stockton had meant he knew every nuance of her mouth, every touch that would drive her wild. His lips claimed hers with a heat that built and built, a sweetness flavored by reunion and second chances. His hands ranged up and down her back, playing a tune that only he knew.
Electricity charged her body, and she leaned into him, craving more of his touch, his kiss, simply craving him. Her mind emptied of every thought except the feel of Stockton against her. He tasted of coffee and red wine, like a special dessert just for her. His tongue swept inside her mouth, and she echoed the gesture, dancing with him. A groan built in her throat and escaped in a soft mew. “Stockton.”
He drew back, pressing his cheek to her hair. The tender move nearly brought her to tears. “Aw, Jenna, I’ve missed you.”
She shook her head, and backed up. “We can’t do this. I’m going back to New York, and you’re staying here.”
He caught her hand. “Stay. Don’t leave. You can run a business here as easily as there.”
“I can’t, Stockton. You don’t understand. I’d never be happy here.”
“Because you hate Riverbend so much or because you never allowed yourself to love it?”
“I…I can’t do this.” Can’t answer your question. Can’t stand here and fall for you all over again. Jenna spun away before Stockton could stop her.
And before he could see the tears forcing their way to the surface.
The red dress hadn’t brought her luck at all. In the end, all Aunt Mabel’s superstitions had done was turn her into a bigger fool than she already was. And raised her hopes for a new-year beginning that was impossible to have.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“YOU’VE DONE MY FAMILY PROUD,” Betsy Williams said. She spun a slow circle in the middle of the Riverbend Banquet Hall and beamed. The room wasn’t entirely done—the finishing touches would come tomorrow, shortly before the party—but Livia and Jenna had made a good start on the setup, thanks to Livia’s persuasive abilities with the owner of the venue. Jenna was pretty sure Edward Graham had given them the extra day just to score some brownie points with Livia, whom he seemed to have taken a liking to, but whatever the reason, the bonus hours made for a much more relaxed party-planning experience, something Jenna rarely had.
It had been five days since New Year’s Eve. Five days where Jenna avoided Rustica and Stockton, and concentrated solely on Eunice’s party. There’d been hundreds of photos to sift through for the memory display, and Jenna had let that task consume her. Rather than deal with what had happened on that dance floor and Stockton’s repeated attempts to contact her and explain.
Every time she refused to take his call, Aunt Mabel got this pained look on her face and shook her head. Livia had tried to broach the subject twice—and gotten nowhere. Stockton wanted the impossible out of her.
He wanted her to stay in Riverbend. And trust that the man who had never been able to commit to her was serious about a commitment now. She knew Stockton—too well—and knew better than to put her faith in the impossible.
“Isn’t this just amazing, Earl?” Betsy said, drawing Jenna’s attention back to the hall. “It’s like something out of a TV show.”
“It’s something, all right.” Earl scowled. “Something fancy.”
Betsy slugged him. “Now, Earl, it won’t hurt you to put on a tie and your best shirt.”
“I’m wearing my best shirt.” He patted his Mechanics Know How to Make It Work T-shirt.
“You will not wear that filthy thing to my sister’s birthday party. I bought you a nice button-down. You’ll look handsome.”
“More like a man going to his execution,” Earl mumbled.
Betsy rolled her eyes, but bit back any additional comments about Earl’s attire. “I’m going home to wrap Eunice’s present and get the bed-and-breakfast ready for all her relatives that are arriving today. Lordy, it’s going to be busy at my place. I’ll see you at the party tomorrow. Me and Earl.” She patted Jenna on the back. “I never should have doubted you.” She held Jenna’s gaze for a long time. “I’m sorry.”
Warmth spread through Jenna. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Betsy headed out of the building, oohing and aaahing over the decorations as she left. Earl stayed behind, twirling his ball cap in his hands. “I seen your face earlier,” he said to Jenna when the door shut.
Jenna bent over to straighten a display of photographs from Eunice’s childhood. “What about my face?”
“Every time my Betsy calls you a local, you look like you want to run off the closest cliff.”
Jenna laughed. “Considering we’re in one of the flattest states in the nation, I’d say that’s pretty hard to do.”
>
“You know what I mean, Jenna Pearson, and don’t pretend you don’t.” He wagged a finger at her. “I’ve known you all your life. Why, you used to sit in my garage on that stool I got, and watch me work on your father’s truck. You’d hand me a wrench when I asked for a screwdriver, and be just a general pain in the neck, like most kids are, but…” He shrugged and his gaze dropped to the floor. “I didn’t mind much.”
“I remember that. The smell of the oil, the country music you were always playing.”
“Nothing can make the day go by faster than a little Travis Tritt.” Earl grinned, then sobered. “And I remember when you came to live with your aunt Mabel. After your parents were gone, she moved you on into town, and brought you up right.”
“My aunt’s a wonderful woman.” Jenna switched one frame for another, then shifted another a little to the right, perfecting the display.
Earl nodded. “Yep, she is. Quite the woman.” He twirled the ball cap some more. “So was your momma.”
“She was a good mother,” Jenna said. “Who didn’t always make good choices.”
“No, I reckon she didn’t. But in the end she did the right thing.” He ran his thumb along the ball cap’s brim. “That man, he asked her to run off with him. Your momma turned him down flat. Made him madder than a hornet, let me tell you. He was in my shop, getting some new tires before he blew out of town, spouting off like Old Faithful.” Earl leaned in closer. “She told that so-and-so that her family was more important to her than any plans he had. That she’d been a fool, and she was staying right here to make things work.”
“But I thought—”
“What you thought is wrong. Bunch of nonsense made up by people who didn’t know any better. I think that day—” his face softened and his voice lowered “—that day we lost your momma and your daddy, your momma had decided to make her marriage work. She was here in town, picking up wine and flowers and all kinds of romantic notions. People say it was for him, but I know better. That man was long gone, off to ruin someone else’s life. Your momma was headed home that day, Jenna. Home.”
She thought of the intersection where the accident had happened. It was one of those where you could go either way—toward the farm or toward another city. Everyone had assumed that Mary had been going away from the farm, from her family. But what if Earl was right, and she had been going home?
All these years, Aunt Mabel had been trying to tell her that there was more to the story than what Jenna had heard from the gossips, but Jenna hadn’t wanted to hear it. She’d simply believed the worst about her mother, because she’d felt so betrayed, so hurt. Sure that her mother was leaving not just Joe Pearson, but her own daughter, too.
“I hated her,” Jenna said softly.
“Your life turned upside down. You’re allowed a little anger.”
“But I should have understood, I should have—”
“Jenna, you were, what, seven when your parents died? Ain’t no kid I know that age who can make sense out of the whys and wherefores of the stupid things adults do. Sometimes, you just need a little time to see the whole picture.”
“And there were so many people telling me only the worst.”
“Don’t you listen to people talk,” Earl said. “They don’t know your mother like you know her. You make up your own mind about her, and you shut those other busybodies out.”
“I barely remember my parents.”
Earl smiled. “You come over to my garage sometime. Sit on the stool, and hand me the wrench when I need it, and I’ll tell you all about him.”
Gratitude flooded Jenna, and she reached for Earl, giving his hand a squeeze. “Thank you, Earl.”
He shrugged, crimson spotting his cheeks. “You know me, I like to talk.” He glanced at the clock. “I have to get going back to the garage. Got a dead Taurus sitting on my lift that needs a new alternator.”
“Thanks again. I guess I forgot that there were people like you in this town.”
“I ain’t nobody but a good neighbor, and you’ve always had plenty of those.”
She thought back, to when she was a child, after her parents had died. She’d been so poor, with so few belongings, and then one day, bags and bags of clothing and toys had arrived on Aunt Mabel’s doorstep. “That clothing drive. I remember that. No one ever told us who did that.”
“It was Betsy. She ain’t never had no kids of her own, and I guess she just thought you were one she could kinda adopt, know what I mean?”
“Betsy did that? But I thought…”
Earl waved off her sentence. “Betsy’s nicer than she’d like people to think.”
And then Jenna remembered. Betsy calling Jenna over when she was riding by on her bike, giving her a stern lecture about road safety. But it had always been followed by a peanut butter cookie. The meals she used to dread at the bed-and-breakfast—Betsy had invited them over at least once a week—and leaving with armloads of leftovers. Abrasive Betsy doing her best to help her neighbor. “That was so nice of her.”
“Yeah, well, don’t tell her I told you. It’ll spoil her reputation. I know my Betsy’s got an ornery streak sometimes, but at heart, she’s just a protective old goat.” He chuckled. “And Pauline Detrich, God rest her soul, she was the principal at Riverbend Elementary, and she used to tell me she’d stop by every day in your classroom and make sure you were catching up to the other kids.”
Jenna remembered the older woman making appearances in her classroom, but had never known why. She’d thought it was because the principal was friends with her teacher, or had been sent by Aunt Mabel to check on Jenna. “She’s the reason I got in that special tutoring program.”
Earl nodded. “You needed a little TLC when you were a kid, and there were plenty of people here who made sure you got it. And your aunt, well, she had it tough, too. Not a lot of money, and a kid she had to feed and clothe. People stepped in, Jenna. Brought you just what you needed, when you needed it.”
It was almost the same words she’d heard Father Michael use the other day. All these years, she’d concentrated only on the negative experiences in this town, using them to fuel her leaving when she’d graduated. How easy it was, she realized, to do that instead of think of the good in the people around her.
“This is a town that takes care of its own,” Earl said. “And you were always one of its own, regardless of what a few idiots without a stop sign for their mouths ever said.” Earl lay a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve been watching you since you came back here. You’ve been lost, I think, and coming home, you’ve been found again. You just don’t know it yet. This place is home for you, Jenna Pearson. It always was.” Then he left, leaving Jenna alone in the banquet hall, surrounded by pictures of a woman who had spent a hundred years in this very town.
Jenna wandered the hall, for the first time really studying the pictures of Eunice. There were tiny black-and-whites from when she was a child, standing on the front stoop of a low-slung bungalow-style house, eating an ice cream at the summer fair, standing in the woods beside the Christmas tree her father had just cut down. And then, later in her life, pictures of Eunice doing charity work for the local church, accepting a blue ribbon at the pie table, serving hot cocoa at the Winterfest. Happy memories, every one of them.
It wasn’t Eunice that left an impression on Jenna. It was the people around her. Members of the town where she had lived nearly all her life. For years, she’d been telling herself that she didn’t belong here, that she wasn’t a small-town girl at all.
And yet, Riverbend had been there for her, in more ways than she could count. The thought warmed her heart, and made her wonder if she could ever repay that kindness.
She tried to concentrate on finishing the centerpieces, and gave up. Her mind was racing, hundreds of thoughts from the past two weeks crowding her. She grabbed her coat, and headed out the door of the hall, just as Livia was coming in.
“Hey, where you going in such a rush?”
“I just need so
me air.”
Concern knitted Livia’s brows together. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Jenna paused. “No. I just need a little time to think.”
“Okay, sure. But if you want to talk, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Livia.” Jenna drew her friend into a tight hug, then headed out into the bright sunshine. The winter storms had finally passed, and the temperatures were edging into the high thirties. After the cold of the past few days, it almost felt like a heat wave. The snow had turned to slush, forming gray puddles on the sidewalks.
Jenna’s boots made sloshing sounds as she walked, slowly at first, then her pace increasing as her feet made the destination decision for her. She cut down a side street, then another, avoiding the main downtown area.
An expanse of green opened up before her, dotted with piles here and there of leftover snow. Most of the Winterfest decorations had been removed from the park, leaving it in its natural state, a little barer because of winter, but still a quiet, peaceful haven.
She’d come here hundreds of times when she’d been a little girl, and even into her teen years. Maybe it was because the open space reminded her so much of the farm she’d lived on when she’d been younger, or maybe it was just that the Riverbend park, with its lush green trees and winding paths, offered a quiet refuge from the hundreds of changes in one little girl’s life.
The paths had been plowed, which made walking along the nearly clean pavement much easier. Jenna took her time, not really looking at her surroundings, but breathing them in, letting the crisp air fill her lungs.
But it wasn’t enough. She walked farther, and still the knot of tension that had come with her from New York nagged at her neck. She kept heading down the paths, as if distance would change everything.
This place is home for you, Jenna. It always was, Earl had said. Was he right? Had all these past few months of feeling misdirected, and bringing that misdirection to work, mean she was fighting, as Aunt Mabel told her, against what her subconscious really wanted?
Did a part of her want to be back here?
