“There’s no easy way to say this...and no use beating around the bush.” Kizzie took a deep breath. “Deanna Atchley’s come home. She’s at the Circle A, and they’re giving a big welcome-home party for her tomorrow night.”
Luke didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened as he narrowed his eyes and looked down at the ground. “How do you know?”
Kizzie scrambled in the side pocket of her slacks and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. When she held it out to Luke, he stared at it, but didn’t touch it. “It’s a personal invitation from Deanna herself. One of the Circle A ranch hands delivered it to the door about twenty minutes ago.”
Luke pulled the cream-colored stationery from Kizzie’s hand and quickly scanned its contents. He immediately recognized Deanna’s bold feminine handwriting. A hard knot formed in the pit of his stomach. She had written him love letters when she was seventeen—letters in which she poured out her heart to him, promising him her love forever. Forever and “then some” had been her favorite declaration.
Luke crushed the invitation in his fist. The blood thundered through his body as his heartbeat accelerated. Damn her! Damn her! What was she doing back in Stone Creek? Why hadn’t she stayed away? He had finally put his life back together and was finding contentment and a sense of purpose in running Montrose. He didn’t want or need any reminders of his deep insecurities, of a past he could never change and a sense of unworthiness that he could never overcome.
“Of course, none of us will go to the barbecue,” Kizzie said, her hand hovering near Luke’s shoulder.
He knew she wanted to touch him, offer him some motherly comfort, but he also knew that she wouldn’t force her maternal attentions on him. He admired and respected Kizzie. Not many women would have so readily accepted their husband’s illegitimate son and welcomed him into the family. But Kizzie had. The woman was made of strong stuff and possessed a heart as big as Texas.
“I think you should go to the barbecue,” Luke said.
“Why on earth would I go to a barbecue at the Atchleys’? I haven’t had any use for them since...” Kizzie shook her head, then glanced up at Luke.
“We need to find out why she’s come home after fifteen years.” Luke bent over and picked up a handful of pebbles. “Something’s brought her back to Stone Creek. Her return might not have anything to do with us. Then again, maybe it does. With the Atchleys, it pays to know.”
“You want me to go to the barbecue alone?”
“You could ask Tyler to go with you.”
“But you aren’t going, are you?”
The knot in Luke’s stomach tightened painfully. The very thought of seeing Deanna again ate away at his insides like acid melting through metal. When she’d taken the stand against him at his trial, he’d told himself he never wanted to see her again. And in his mind, he had meant it. Even in his heart he believed that he hated her. But in his subconscious, in his dreams, he was never free of her. Just when he thought he’d vanquished her from his memories, she would return to haunt his dreams, like a spirit who refused to leave this earth.
“No, I’m not going,” Luke said. “But I wish you’d ride over there tomorrow night and find out what’s going on.”
“She won’t be the same girl, you know,” Kizzie told him. “She’ll be a woman now. She’s nearly thirty-three. Could be she’s married and has a...”
“And has a couple of kids,” Luke finished for her. “What do you want to bet she hasn’t got my kid.” He threw the pebbles, one at a time, into the thicket. Flushed from the bushes, birds flew into the air.
“Oh, Luke...son.” Kizzie did touch him then. Her work-roughened hand clasped his wrist.
He clenched his teeth so tightly that a sharp pain ran up his neck and into his head. “I’ve wondered all these years whether or not she really got rid of my child or...or if she had my baby, and if she did, what she did with it. I know she wouldn’t have kept it. If she didn’t get rid of it, I hope she made sure the kid went to a good home.”
“I’ll go to the party,” Kizzie told him. “And I’ll find out why Deanna has come back to Stone Creek. But don’t you worry, son, she won’t ever hurt you again. Even if I have to run her out of this county myself.” Kizzie squeezed Luke’s wrist, then released him and mounted her horse. “Don’t you stay out here all night brooding. Do you hear me? Come on home for supper with me and Tyler.”
Kizzie headed the mare down the hill while Luke stood alone and watched her descent. He was damn lucky to have someone care about him as much as Kizzie did. He didn’t deserve her love. Until recent years, he hadn’t done anything to warrant her kindness. But no matter what he’d done or how many messes he’d gotten himself into, she’d stood by him, just as his father had. And he’d been grateful. He just didn’t know how to express his gratitude in words, so he tried to do it with his actions—by running Montrose the way Baxter had, with strength and caring and dedication. He owed his father that much. And he owed Kizzie even more.
Luke mounted Cherokee and rode higher into the hills, farther and farther away from the ranch house and closer and closer to the remains of a shack hidden deep in the woods. The shack had been an old log cabin that had been built by Baxter’s great-grandfather when he’d first claimed this land as his own. Now it was nothing but charred remnants of a burned building.
When Luke reached the cabin site, he reined in Cherokee, but didn’t dismount. He sat there in the saddle and looked at the crumbling gray chimney of his ancestor’s home and remembered the nights he had brought Deanna Atchley here. The nights they had lain in each other’s arms. The nights they had made passionate love. Fifteen years ago. Another lifetime. He had never loved anyone so much. Had never trusted anyone so much.
But he should have known all along that what he had thought was so perfect, a love so pure and true, was nothing but a lie. He’d never been worthy of Deanna Atchley, never deserved to have a girl like that truly love him. He’d been a fool to think that she would stand against her family and defend him.
He had loved and trusted the wrong woman, and she had proved to him how totally worthless he was. His stupidity had cost him far more than five years of his life—years spent in hell. He had lost not only those years, but the hope of ever being worthy of love.
And he had lost the only child he would ever have.
Chapter 2
Deanna had forgotten how elaborate barbecues at the Circle A could be. Her mother was the consummate hostess, making everyone feel welcome. Phyllis, who had come into her marriage to Rayburn Atchley with a sizable inheritance of her own, never skimped on important things. Things like parties and clothes and vacations in Europe and the Caribbean. Phyllis lived for the adoration and envy of her peers. Looking back, Deanna realized how devastating her relationship with Luke had been to her mother, and how her involvement the night of her father’s murder had been a death knell to Phyllis’s social standing. There had been a time when she’d thought her mother was perfect. She’d learned the hard way how false her mother’s paragon facade really was.
Deanna stood inside the den, looking out the double French doors at the crowd swarming around on the huge rock patio and beyond, covering the ground like insects. Searching the crowd for any sign of Luke McClendon, she cursed herself for a fool. He won’t come, she told herself. Why did you think sending him and his family a personal invitation would make any difference? She was certain that the McClendons and the Atchleys hadn’t spoken in the past fifteen years. Not since Luke had been arrested for her father’s murder.
Deanna nervously smoothed her hands over her hips, adjusting the drape of her royal blue silk slacks. The last thing she wanted to do was go outside and face all these people—her mother’s and brother’s friends. People who would remember the fragile, helpless, desperate girl she had been. The girl who’d had a mental breakdown and disappeared from Stone Creek for fifteen years. She wasn’t concerned that anyone would be rude to her face, but she could imagine the snide remarks that
would be made behind her back. Texans were pioneer stock, tough, independent and fiercely proud. People in these parts didn’t approve of weaknesses of any kind, least of all mental instability. And she wasn’t going to degrade herself and try to explain that she’d been completely sane for over ten years and living a productive life in Jackson, Mississippi. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation. No one except Luke McClendon.
Benita scurried through a horde of laughing guests, making a beeline straight for Deanna. Grabbing her sister-in-law’s arm, Benita pulled her aside, all the while smiling like an idiot as her gaze danced over the crowd, checking their reaction.
“Mother has been wondering where you were,” Benita whispered. “She was worried about you. Tonight is very important to her. You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”
“Disappoint Phyllis?” Deanna’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “Heaven forbid.”
“Please, do not embarrass your mother.” Benita glared at Deanna, a frown marring her forehead. “She is so pleased that you are well and that you’ve finally come home. She does love you very much, you know.”
Did Benita truly believe what she’d just said or was she simply repeating Phyllis’s words. After all these years, was Benita still so insecure about her position in the Atchley family that she felt it necessary to kowtow to Phyllis, to bow and
“I promise that I won’t say or do anything to embarrass Mother.” Deanna eased her arm out of Benita’s tight grip. “I’ll mix and mingle and put on my very best phony smile. That should please her, shouldn’t it?”
“You still blame her, don’t you?” Benita’s dark eyes held a glint of disbelief. “After all she did to protect you, you still—”
“Deanna, honey, how wonderful to see you.” A tall, rawboned brunette, a few years older than Deanna, threw open her arms as she approached. “God almighty, you look wonderful. Prettier than when we were girls.”
“Patsy Ruth Waters!” Deanna gasped when the robust woman grabbed her in a bear hug. Patsy Ruth was one of those big, athletic women who could outride, outrope and outdrink most men. Phyllis never quite approved of her as a friend for Deanna, but since Patsy Ruth’s father was a multimillionaire, and a state senator to boot, she had tolerated the girls’ friendship.
“It’s Patsy Ruth Dawkins, now, honey.” Releasing her hold on Deanna. Patsy Ruth stepped back a couple of feet and shook her head. “Still got a to-die-for body and that mane of honey-brown hair! And just look at me, after twelve years of marriage and three kids, I look every day of my thirty-five years. And then some.” Her strong laughter filled the evening air like a roll of welcome thunder promising rain after a long dry spell.
“You haven’t changed a bit and you know it,” Deanna told her old friend. “Marriage and motherhood must agree with you.”
“Lordy, it sure does. I want you to meet that man of mine. Glenn’s around here somewhere. Probably over at the feed trough. That man likes to eat as much as I do.” Patsy Ruth grasped Deanna’s hand and dragged her over to a couple of unoccupied chairs at one of the picnic tables dotted around the yard. “What about you, honey? Are you married? Any kids? Where have you been these past fifteen years? And why didn’t you keep in touch?”
“Whew, take it easy on the questions.” Deanna said, sitting down at a table with her old friend.
“I’m just anxious to catch up with you. So, where are you living now?” Patsy Ruth asked.
“Jackson, Mississippi,” Deanna said. “I’m a teacher at a private school for children with emotional and mental problems that make learning in a regular classroom difficult. And I’m not married.”
“Mercy me, I never imagined you as a schoolteacher. You were always so involved in all the social activities, a cheerleader and homecoming queen and...Well, I guess you didn’t turn into a replica of Phyllis, did you?”
“No, I’m nothing like my mother. After my nervous breakdown, I changed a great deal. My priorities are different than they would have been if...if I hadn’t...” She wanted to tell her old friend about the years at Millones, yet she hesitated, uncertain even of Patsy Ruth’s reaction to the truth.
“Say no more. Not here. We’ll do lunch real soon and have us a heart-to-heart. For this evening, let’s just concentrate on the present. I’ll tell you all about Glenn and the kids and you tell me about your job and your life in Jackson. Any special man in your life?”
“There hasn’t been anyone special in my life since...not since Luke.” Deanna lowered her voice. Even now, just the mention of Luke’s name created a deep sadness inside her.
“Well, speak of the devil. Sort of anyway.” As her gaze traveled across the crowd, Patsy Ruth let out a long, low whistle.
Deanna scanned the milling guests, searching for Luke. Her heart was suddenly beating faster, thundering in her ears like war drums. “Where?”
“Oh, honey, it isn’t Luke himself,” Patsy Ruth said. “It’s Kizzie and Tyler. Never thought I’d live to see the day a McClendon would set foot on the Circle A again.”
The moment Deanna caught sight of Luke’s stepmother and stepbrother, her heart soared. Maybe Luke had come with them. Maybe she’d get a chance to talk to him—tonight! She stared, uncaring that others might notice, watching the McClendons walk proudly through the horde of astonished people gaping at them.
“Patsy Ruth, will you excuse me, please.” Deanna rose slowly from the chair. “I really need to speak to Kizzie.”
“You go right ahead, honey. I think I understand.”
Deanna wove her way through the guests, many stopping her to say hello and welcome her back to Stone Creek, a few others smiling weakly at her as she passed them. Not deterred by anyone or anything, she zeroed in on Kizzie McClendon. She would have recognized Luke’s stepmother anywhere, so little had the Montrose matriarch changed. Still tall and slender, with a whipcord-lean strength in her body, Kizzie towered over most of the other women. Her short, curly, steel-gray hair framed her plain face. A face that belied the inner beauty of the woman’s magnificent spirit. Deanna had always liked Kizzie and appreciated her kindness to Luke.
In her peripheral vision, Deanna caught a glimpse of her mother heading toward the McClendons. Moving quickly, Deanna spanned the distance between her and Luke’s family, reaching them before Phyllis could detach herself from a talkative guest.
“Mrs. McClendon.” Deanna’s voice quivered ever so slightly. “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation.” She glanced up at Tyler, who’d been only a kid of fifteen the last time she’d seen him. Now he was a tall, attractive man, with his mother’s dark, piercing eyes. “Thank y’all for coming tonight. I—I don’t suppose—”
“Luke didn’t come,” Tyler said. “You really didn’t expect him to, did you?”
“No, I suppose not,” Deanna replied. “But I had hoped he might.”
“I had no intention of coming,” Kizzie admitted. “But Luke asked me to find out why you’re back in Stone Creek, after all this time.”
Clutching her hands together in front of her, Deanna looked pleadingly into Kizzie’s keen eyes, eyes that seemed to see through her, past all falsehoods and directly to the deeply buried truth.
“I had to come back,” Deanna said. “You see I’ve been—”
“Mrs. McClendon?” Phyllis Atchley stood stiffly at her unwanted guest’s side, her nose tilted haughtily in the air. She glanced at Tyler. “Sheriff. I must say I never expected to see y’all here tonight.”
“The McClendons are my guests, Mother,” Deanna said. “I invited them.”
“Then of course, they’re welcome.” Phyllis’s cheeks flushed as she obviously fought to compose herself. “This is Deanna’s welcome-home party and she certainly has the right to invite whomever she wishes.”
Phyllis glanced around as if searching for someone. Following her mother’s line of vision, Deanna saw her brother glaring at the McClendons. Eddie Nunley’s big hand rested on Junior’s shoulder, as if he was physically restraining him, keep
ing him from barreling his wheelchair across the patio and out into the yard. Junior had hated Luke McClendon almost as much as her father had. Her brother had been present, along with Eddie, the night her father had horsewhipped Luke within an inch of his life. Junior might not have participated in the brutal beating, but he hadn’t done anything to stop their father. Neither had Eddie. A part of her still blamed both men for the parts they had played in the destruction of her life. But the person she blamed most of all was herself. She’d been the one who had destroyed her life and Luke’s life, too.
“If Luke hadn’t asked me to come here tonight, no power on earth would have made me set foot on the Circle A,” Kizzie said, glaring at Phyllis. “I came here to find out what Deanna’s doing back in Stone Creek.”
“She’s come home to visit her family,” Phyllis said quickly. “What other reason could she possibly have? Besides—” Phyllis lowered her voice to a whisper, apparently aware that all eyes were on their little foursome “—my daughter’s return to Stone Creek has nothing to do with your family. Her visit here is none of your business.”
“Is that true?” Kizzie focused her dark gaze on Deanna.
“I want Luke to know why I’ve returned,” Deanna said. “But I don’t want the message relayed to him by a third party. I want to tell him myself.”
Kizzie’s eyebrows lifted, her facial features tightening. “Then your return’s got something to do with Luke.”
“No, it most definitely doesn’t!” Phyllis snapped, then glanced around at all the curious, staring faces and smiled at them in an obvious effort to pretend nothing was wrong.
“I can speak for myself, Mother.” Deanna reached over and laid her hand on Kizzie’s arm. “Where is Luke tonight?”
“Deanna, you wouldn’t—” Phyllis said.
“He’s home tonight, probably eating supper in the kitchen with Alva.” Kizzie laid her hand over Deanna’s and squeezed tightly. “Don’t you hurt my boy again.”
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