Glory tugged the hem of the shirt down and giggled.
Tula’s bony bare feet padded across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen. Her eyes remained dramatically averted. “I’ll just go make myself some tea to calm my nerves. When you two get y’rselves calmed down, you can come join me.”
Glory’s giggling got worse when Tula left the room.
Eric whispered, “Hey, we’re in trouble here. I think you must be delirious from lack of sleep.”
She reached up and pulled him back down on top of her. “I’m deliriously in love.” She touched his cheek. “And don’t worry about Granny, we have an agreement. I won’t treat her like an old lady, and she won’t scold me for doing this.”
She kissed him until he could swear the floor vibrated beneath them.
Epilogue
Glory sat on a boulder in the sun with her feet dangling in Blue Falls Pond. Eric was sprawled on his back beside her, dozing off the picnic lunch they’d just eaten. Lady bounced from here to there chasing a dragonfly. Glory looked around the most beloved spot on earth and thought this was a perfect Labor Day. She was glad she and Eric had decided on a quiet afternoon instead of the raucous activities the Baker clan had planned.
Scott and Jill were spending the day with a man Jill had met in Knoxville. He worked for an organization that served children with autism and acted as a liaison between all of the parties involved in the child’s treatment, parents, doctors, therapists. Luckily, the guy seemed to genuinely care for Scott, too.
As for Scott, the speech therapist was doing wonders helping him develop his communication skills. Already, he had begun to say a few words.
Glory pulled her sewing out of her backpack and threaded a needle.
“Do you really think you’re going to have that thing finished before he’s a teenager?” Eric asked, opening one eye.
Glory dipped her foot deeper in the pond and flipped water at him. “I’m getting faster.” She spread the section of quilt she was working on across her thighs. “Gran says I’ll have it finished by Thanksgiving.”
“My bet is the house will be rebuilt and kennel finished long before Scott sleeps with that quilt.”
It was a teasing argument that never died between them. Glory wondered what they’d spar about once the quilt was done.
“So you admit, he will sleep with it!” she said triumphantly. “That’s all that counts.”
“That’s what I love about you, your grace in victory.”
“You’ll miss me next month when Lady and I are off getting trained.”
He sat up. “I miss you already.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Probably not as much as Scott will miss Lady.”
“Yeah, well, once she gets back, she’ll be his forever.”
“And I can start on those mischievous puppies of hers. Do you think there’s a prayer I’ll get one good service dog out of that litter?”
Eric laughed. “Tula says she’s keeping Roscoe no matter what.”
“Yeah, well, he’s the last one I’d expect to qualify as an assistance animal, so Gran’s not going to get a fight from me.”
After a moment, Eric grew more serious. “I really admire what you’re doing.”
She put down her sewing. “Thanks. I love it so far—and it’s going to be good for Granny, too.”
“Have you and Tula decided on a name?”
“Cold Springs Canine Helpers. Says where we are, what we do. Can’t get much simpler than that.”
Eric shifted, dragging his backpack from where he’d been using it as a pillow. He slid his hand inside, but didn’t pull it back out.
“What are you up to?” Glory asked.
“I was wondering, with your busy life and all, if you’d have room for one more thing?”
“What?” she said, suspiciously.
He drew his hand out of the backpack. “Me.” He held out a beautiful diamond set in platinum. “On a permanent basis.”
She tilted her head and smiled, her heart afire. “Oh, I think I can squeeze you in—if you’re willing to relocate.”
He leaned close and whispered against her lips, “I’ve always wanted to live in the hollow.” Then he kissed her.
“It’s going to be a houseful; you, me, Gran, Scott, various pooches.”
“I won’t take up much space. We can even bunk together if it’ll help.”
“Oh,” she said, as he slipped the ring on her finger, “it’ll definitely help.”
About the Author
SUSAN’S FIRST BOOK, Back Roads, won a RITA for Best First Book and two National Reader’s Choice Awards in 2004. She lives in her native Indiana hometown with her husband, two college-age children, a menagerie of critters, and a rock band in the basement.
Visit her Web site at: www.susancrandall.net, or contact her at P.O. Box 1092, Noblesville, IN 46061, or [email protected].
Enjoy a taste of Susan Crandall’s exciting new novel!
A Kiss in Winter
The car engine idled and the windows began to fog in the cold Kentucky night. Caroline Rogers switched off the ignition and allowed the stillness to envelop her. The air was crisp and the snow fresh, lending an expectant hush to the surrounding pastures and fields. The only sound was her sister Macie’s unsteady breathing from the passenger seat. Caroline could sympathize; she suddenly felt a little unsteady herself.
It was one a.m. and Caroline had done her reconnaissance. Ms. Stockton was in the habit of going to bed before midnight, with all of the downstairs lights still on—including those on the Christmas tree in the living room window.
Christmas. She couldn’t believe it was almost Christmas. Although she’d tried to deny its approach by averting her eyes from the decorations on the town square and ignoring the endless gift ads on the television, Christmas was still coming—an unwelcome and unwanted reminder of how things used to be. Even her younger brother and sister hadn’t begun their annual campaign of not-so-subtle hints.
Since the winter she’d turned seven, the winter she’d come to live with the Rogers’s, the holiday had held a sense of rebirth, of life, and love, and second chances.
This year it just held grief.
I’m too young to feel this old.
Caroline stared at the blue-white snow, feeling just a little sorry for herself. She rarely allowed self-pity to get a toehold, but tonight there was no fending it off. According to her life plan—her carefully constructed life plan—at twenty, she should be halfway to her degree in fine arts. If all had gone well, she’d be interning for National Geographic over the holidays instead of sneaking around, freezing her ass off, taking a photograph she had no business taking.
But she’d buried that life plan along with her parents.
Moonlight glistened on the rolling ground between her car and the solid red-brick two-story farmhouse on the hill, casting the swales in gray-purple shadow. The scene was dear to her heart, even though it no longer belonged to her.
“I don’t think we should do this,” twelve-year-old Macie said, looking out the window with wide, apprehensive eyes.
“Really, Mace! Stop being such a goody-two shoes.” Caroline’s frustration over her own self-pity, added to the fact that Macie was right, made Caroline uncharacteristically short-tempered.
Macie’s chin dropped to her chest. “Sorry.”
Shame heated Caroline’s face. Macie was a good kid, which had made Caroline’s own life immeasurably easier for the past ten months. She knew this to be a concrete fact because their thirteen-year-old brother, Sam, was the polar opposite, constantly tempting the devil himself.
She put a hand on Macie’s leg. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
Macie lifted her chin and gave Caroline a gentle smile. That was Macie, gentle and giving and always willing to take the blame. She was bound to be trampled on. Caroline wished she could help Macie find a way to curb her trepidation without losing her innate goodness.
A part of Caroline under
stood Macie’s need to please; being abandoned by two sets of parents before your twelfth birthday had a way of making a conscientious girl look inside herself for reasons for so much misfortune: If only I’d been less trouble, or made better grades, or hadn’t made Mom worry so. Still, the girl needed to develop some self confidence.
Caroline’s conscience chided, Self confidence, not the brass balls to break the law. And they were breaking the law. Shiny new, reflective no trespassing signs were posted along all boundaries of the five-hundred-acre property that until recently had been the Rogers Farm.
“But we don’t have permission.” Macie apparently wasn’t ready to take the big plunge into lawlessness—even to please her big sister.
“It’s just a picture, for goodness sake.”
“What are you going to do with it, anyway? We have tons of pictures of the house.”
“Not since we had to sell it. It’s different now. Just get out and we’ll be back home before you know it.”
“We should ask.”
“Honestly, Mace!” Caroline threw her car door open, grabbed her camera, and got out. However, she was careful to close the door softly. Her last encounter with the woman who had bought their house and surrounding farmland hadn’t gone at all well. Caroline didn’t want Macie to know they’d been virtually forbidden to return to their old home.
True to Ms. Stockton’s habit, the lights on the first floor were blazing. For a woman who said she’d bought this land for seclusion, she seemed mighty afraid of the dark.
Macie got out of the car, walked to Caroline’s side, and whispered, “She’ll see our footprints in the snow.”
A wicked little part of Caroline thought, serves her right. Maybe she’ll think she’s got a reason to be scared of the dark. But she said, “It’s supposed to snow again before dawn.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Panic strangled Macie’s whisper.
“It’s not like they’re going to track us down by our footprints for taking a picture.” Caroline just wanted to take the photo and head home to her darkroom. The image had been formed so solidly in her mind that she feared the actual photograph wouldn’t capture all of the emotion she’d envisioned.
Macie looked up the long lane, toward the house. After a moment, she said, “Maybe we should make a snowman in the front yard, just so she knows it wasn’t a serial killer or something.”
Caroline shifted her camera and wrapped an arm around her sister. “You really are a good person. Snowman might take too long. But if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll tramp out a smiley face in the front yard.”
Macie smiled, then fell in step with Caroline as they headed up the lane. They moved in the shadow of the solid line of Norway spruce their father had planted along the west side as a wind break.
When they reached the house, they skirted to the side yard. The six-pane double-sash window that faced them spilled warm golden light onto the snow. From just the right angle, Caroline could see the Christmas tree that was centered in the window facing the front porch. She positioned herself so the camera lens framed the image she’d formed in her mind weeks ago. Then she motioned Macie toward the window.
The girl moved with all of the assurance of a rabbit approaching an open field.
“Hurry up,” Caroline whispered.
Macie shot her a pinched look, but moved marginally faster. She stopped within an arm’s reach of the side of the house, just as she’d been told.
“Put your hand on the glass.”
Macie’s gaze cut to Caroline. “Fingerprints.”
Caroline made a hissing sound and a mental note to limit the number of hours Macie watched CSI on television. “You’re wearing gloves.”
Slowly, Macie reached for the glass.
The second her palm settled against the lighted pane, Caroline’s breath caught in her chest. Perfect. “Raise your chin a little,” she coached.
She focused the camera.
“Hold your breath.”
“Why?” Macie started to move.
“Hold still!” Caroline lined up the shot. “I can see your breath. Now hold it.”
As the shutter gave its reassuring click, Caroline’s heart skipped a beat and her entire body hummed with electric energy. She knew this was going to be a remarkable photograph.
What she didn’t know was that it was destined to change her life forever.
THE EDITOR’S DIARY
Dear Reader,
Love has a funny way of catching up with you . . . even if you’re running as fast as you can in the opposite direction. So stop sprinting, kick off those sneakers, and pick up these two irresistible Warner Forever titles.
Romantic Times BOOKclub Magazine raves “Susan Crandall brings a strong new voice to the genre” and they couldn’t be more right. Pick up a copy of her latest, ON BLUE FALLS POND, and try not to cry. I double dare you. For nearly two years, Glory Harrison has been trying to outrun the tragedy that drove her from home. But when her ailing Gran needs her, Glory knows she can’t run anymore. She must return to Tennessee and the face the memories of the fire that took the life of her husband and unborn child. Her one saving grace is fire chief and an old friend Eric Williams. His kindness and strength give her the courage to face her demons . . . and slowly break the walls around her heart down. But there are dark truths lingering in the shadows of Glory’s past, truths that threaten her future with this real-life hero who saved her life the night of the fire and every night since. Can their fledgling love survive it?
And Thierry de Bennicoeur from Michelle Rowen’s BITTEN & SMITTEN knows all about dark truths lingering in the shadows. It’s not easy being a six-hundred-year-old vampire with a death wish and a sun-intolerance. And just when he’s about to throw himself off a bridge, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen stops him. Well, interrupts him is more like it. Sarah Dearly has had a really bad date. She was buried alive . . . before dessert! And her creepy date bit her neck. Not to mention the guys with stakes and the way her date disappeared into dust. Thierry says Sarah is the newest vamp in town and that they have to stay one step ahead of the vampire hunters. But her . . . a vampire? Sure, she’s got a hankering for blood lately, but she doesn’t feel any different. She’s still the same unemployed girl looking for love. But now she’s got her heart set on a much older—and much paler—man.
To find out more about Warner Forever, these titles and the authors, visit us at www.warnerforever.com.
With warmest wishes,
Karen Kosztolnyik, Senior Editor
P.S. Next month we’re thrilled to kick off a brand new feature called Authors’ Corner. We’re devoting these two pages to the masterminds behind the books—the authors! All of your favorite Warner Forever authors will be here, chatting about everything from what inspires them to what motivates their characters. So pull up a chair and join us in the Authors’ Corner. We’ll kick it off with Marliss Melton and Paula Quinn talking about their latest books TIME TO RUN and LORD OF TEMPTATION.
On Blue Falls Pond Page 36
