Love Will Find a Way

by Barbara Freethy

  "Yeah, he would have loved that."

  She heard the catch in his voice and saw the emotion in his eyes. She put her arms around him and held him close. She felt his body shake as he fought for control. "It's okay," she murmured.

  "I miss him. He was my best friend."

  "I know. I miss him, too. I think we always will."

  "Yeah." He cleared his throat, squaring his jaw, pushing his emotion away.

  "I have an idea," she said. "Do you have a piece of paper in the car? And a pen?"

  "I think so. Why?"

  "Could you get it?"

  Dylan retrieved the sheet of paper with the directions to Laura's house. "Will this do?"

  "Actually, it's perfect." She took the pen out of his hand and wrote: To Gary, with love from your family, Rachel, Wesley, Allison, Dylan and Laura. We'll always miss you.

  She saw Dylan's quirked eyebrow and smiled. "Family is not always about blood. Will you make an airplane for me?"

  He took the paper out of her hands, folding it sharply as he turned it into an airplane. Then he handed it to her. "Do you want to do the honors?"

  "Yes." She took the airplane out of his hand and raised her arm. Then she hesitated, her fingers tightening on the paper. Was she really ready to say good-bye?

  "Can you let go, Rachel?" Dylan asked.

  "I can let go," she whispered. "To you, Gary, may you soar high in the heavens as only you could do." She tossed the airplane into the breeze. They watched it fly down the mountain, over the stream, into the trees and beyond. "Good-bye. Rest in peace."

  Epilogue

  Three months later ...

  "I can't believe it's done." Rachel looked at her brand new house in amazement.

  "What do you think?" Dylan asked.

  "My dream house is better than any dream."

  "I'm glad you like it. It's not exactly what Gary envisioned. We made some changes along the way. Having the insurance money come through for you helped."

  "It's perfect. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I'm going to live in it."

  Dylan sent her a questioning look. "Why is that?"

  She licked her lips, feeling a bit nervous. They'd taken a lot of steps together in the past three months, but not this last one, not the one that needed to be taken. They'd mutually decided to give themselves some time, but time was up. The house was done. Dylan had a life to go back to. And she had a decision to make.

  "I've fallen in love with someone who lives in the city," she said. "I need to be with him."

  "And leave this incredible house?" he asked, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. "You could do that for some guy?"

  "Not some guy -- you. I could do it for you. And as you know, only for you."

  His eyes darkened with emotion. "You don't have to do this, Rachel. I know how much you love this place, the land, the trees."

  "I love you more." She took both of his hands in hers, "You said once you couldn't be second best, but you're not, Dylan. The love I have for you is different from what I felt for Gary. But it's strong, and it's good. I know it will last. I wasn't ready for you before, but I am now. And I think you're ready for me. I'll go wherever you want. I don't need a safe haven to hide in. I need you." She smiled at him with all the love she had to offer. "You set me free from my past, from my fears of losing the people I loved to their dreams. I can give you what I couldn't give Gary. I can move to the city for you. I can give up my life here. Maybe it's not the title of first husband, but I hope it's enough."

  "It's more than enough," he answered, crushing her in his arms. "I want to be your husband, and I want to be Wesley's father, and we can live wherever we want."

  "You need to be in the city and so does Wesley. I found the perfect school for him. He can start next September."

  "You hate the city."

  "I don't hate it anymore. It was never about the city; it was about feeling safe, and I feel that with you wherever you are."

  "To tell you the truth, I'd give up my business for you and not miss it for a second. I built things to fill the emptiness in me. But you do that now. You and Wesley."

  Her eyes blurred with tears of happiness, but she could still see clearly enough to kiss him.

  "Goodness, do you two ever stop?" her grandmother asked, a note of amusement in her voice.

  Rachel stepped back as the rest of her family joined them, urging her to officially open the new house. It was silly, really. They'd all been a part of the construction, but they acted like they'd never seen the house before.

  "Wait one second," Carly said. "I almost forgot." She ran back to her car, then reappeared a few moments later holding a small pot. "This is for you, Rachel, to plant behind your house. It's a seedling from the Lady Elaine."

  "But we said we'd never try to duplicate the tree."

  "I think it's time. You're just as brave in love as our great-great-grandmother. I think Elaine would want you to have this. It will protect your new home and your new family."

  "Thank you, Carly."

  Carly dropped her voice down a notch. "By the way, Travis and I are going to Paris this summer -- for our honeymoon." She let out a little squeal at the end of her sentence.

  "Paris? Honeymoon? Oh, my God." Rachel put the pot on the ground, then threw her arms around Carly's neck and gave her a big hug.

  "We're planning to live in the main house," Carly said.

  "What about your painting?"

  "I don't need to live in the city to paint. In fact, I find a certain annoying man actually inspires me."

  She laughed. "How the world keeps spinning."

  Dylan put his arm around Rachel's shoulders. "The world is spinning without me in it?"

  "Oh, you're always in it."

  "You better believe it. Now, cut the ribbon so we can go inside."

  "Let's do it together, the three of us," she said, motioning for Wesley to join them on the steps.

  They put their hands on top of one another's and cut the ribbon.

  "There's only one thing left to do," Dylan told her with a tender smile.

  "What's that?"

  "Carry you across the threshold." He swept her up in his arms with a laugh.

  "But we're not married yet," she protested.

  "We will be," he promised. "We will be."

  THE END

  READER'S GUIDE

  If you enjoyed this book and would like to talk about it in your book club, I've enclosed some questions to hopefully inspire some great discussion! (Following the Reader's Guide are several excerpts from some of my other books.)

  1. Nearly every major character in LOVE WILL FIND A WAY is keeping or has kept a secret. Rachel and Dylan kept their kiss a secret from Gary. They discover Gary kept many secrets from them. Carly keeps her love of and talent for art a secret from her family.

  Do you think it’s possible to have a relationship without some secrets between partners? When have you kept a secret from someone close to you? When is it okay to keep a secret?

  2. Compromise is a major theme in LOVE WILL FIND A WAY. Gary lived in the country to be with Rachel although he preferred the city and Carly hid her love of painting to avoid upsetting her family. This contrasts with Rachel and Carly’s mother who couldn’t compromise on her vision of her life and abandoned her husband and children.

  How do you draw a line between your personal desires and those of your loved ones? What is the line between being brave about your choices that may hurt others and being selfish?

  3. Many of the characters in LOVE WILL FIND A WAY are impacted by the loss or estrangement of a parental figure. Rachel and Carly’s mother abandoned them. Gary’s father, who they had assumed was dead, was estranged. Even Gary, through his untimely death, has unintentionally abandoned his son at a young age. Rachel’s reaction to this parental loss was to grow roots, Carly’s was to deny her life’s passion, and Gary’s was to lie to his family about his father’s death.

  Do you think each character was justified in
their reactions? Have you been impacted by the loss or estrangement of a parental figure? How did you deal with it?

  4. Rachel’s family believes the Lady Elaine apples can make a couple fall in love. Many of the women in their family have been happily married to the recipient of the apple, and Rachel believed Gary ate the apple she gave him.

  How do you think Rachel and Gary’s romance was driven by this family myth? If Rachel had known Dylan had eaten the apple, do you think she still would have married Gary? Why do you think Gary didn’t tell Rachel the truth after he knew the family myth?

  5. Carly notes to Travis “You can’t do love long distance” and uses Rachel’s relationship with Gary as an example.

  Do you think this is true? Do you think the physical distance of Rachel and Gary’s relationship was the cause of their emotional distance or was it something else? Have you ever been in a long-distance relationship and what was the outcome?

  I hope you enjoyed LOVE WILL FIND A WAY! If you would like to print out this Reader's Guide, please visit my website at http://www.barbarafreethy.com.

  RYAN' S RETURN

  Excerpt - Copyright 2011 by Barbara Freethy

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter One

  His bed was on the sidewalk!

  Ryan Hunter slammed the door of the cab, tossed a twenty-dollar bill at the driver, and ran across the busy Los Angeles intersection, dodging cars and honking horns. As he reached the sidewalk, two men emerged from his three-story apartment building with a bookcase.

  "What the hell is going on here?" Ryan dropped his overnight bag on the ground, taking more care with his saxophone case and camera bag.

  The moving men set the bookcase down on the sidewalk. The younger man, who wore white coveralls with the name Craig embroidered on the pocket, grinned. "Oh, hi, Mr. Hunter. Your lady's moving out. Third one in a row, isn't that right?"

  "Yeah? Who's counting?" Ryan grumbled.

  The older man, Walt, reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. "I do believe you're our best account, Mr. Hunter. Shall we put this on your tab?"

  Walt and Craig laughed in unison as they picked up the bookcase and set it in the truck.

  Ryan surveyed the furniture strewn around the sidewalk and the steps leading up to his apartment building with a weary sigh. He had spent the past thirty-six hours on three different planes, traveling through three different time zones. All he wanted to do was sleep -- in his own bed. Only his own bed was now in a moving van.

  The men loaded the easy chair next, the one perfect for stretching out with a beer. Behind the chair was the big-screen television.

  "Not the TV." Ryan groaned. He gave it a loving pat as the men walked by him.

  Craig laughed. "You don't have much left up there, Mr. Hunter, just that old sofa with the springs sticking out, a couple of crates, and a fan. Maybe instead of getting a new woman, you should buy yourself some furniture."

  "Thanks for the tip, Mack."

  "The name is Craig, and you're welcome."

  Ryan stalked up the steps. He met Melanie on the landing just inside the front door. She wore her usual aerobics gear, a pair of hot pink Lycra shorts, a midriff tank top, and tennis shoes. Her blond hair bounced around her head in a ponytail. She was the perfect southern California woman, tan and fit -- great body, great in bed, and great furniture. Sometimes life sucked.

  Melanie stopped abruptly, her bright pink lips curving downward in dismay.

  "Oh, dear," she said. "I thought I'd be gone before you got home."

  "Where are you going?" he demanded.

  "I'm moving out, Ryan."

  "That's obvious. Without saying good-bye, without offering a word of explanation?"

  "Ryan, honey, you've been gone seven weeks."

  "I was working."

  "You're always working."

  "Did you see my photographs from Israel?"

  "Yes, they were on the cover of Time. Very impressive. Excuse me, but I have to go."

  "Melanie, wait."

  She shook her head. "Ryan, we've been living together for three months, and you've only spent ten nights in that apartment with me."

  "It has to be more than that," Ryan said, truly surprised by the number.

  "It's not. I should know. I had plenty of time to count." Melanie sighed wistfully. "You're a great guy when you're around, but you don't love me."

  "I don't?"

  "Seven weeks, Ryan." She poked her fingertip into his chest. "No phone calls, no letter, not even a postcard."

  Melanie was right. She was a nice woman and fun to be with, but he didn't love her. He didn't love anyone. It was not an emotion that he wanted in his life. Love was too complicated, too messy.

  Ryan touched Melanie's cheek, feeling genuinely sad at her departure. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you."

  "I'll live," she said with a regretful smile. "I just wish I knew what you were running from or running toward." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips. "Whatever it is, I hope someday you find it."

  Ryan watched her walk down the steps. The movers closed up the van, and within minutes a big part of his life disappeared -- again.

  He retrieved his bags and saxophone case from the sidewalk and walked slowly up the stairs to his apartment.

  The door stood halfway open. He walked inside and stared at the emptiness. His old sofa bed stood against one wall next to the lamp with the tilted, yellowed shade. The wooden crate with his antiquated record collection featuring jazz musicians Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong, as well as an eclectic mix of rock and roll artists like Bruce Springsteen, Mick Jagger, and the Grateful Dead, spilled out onto the beige carpet.

  A card table had been opened up in one corner of the living room. On top of the table lay his mail, piles and piles of it. Ryan walked over to the table and spread the envelopes out so he could see what he had -- electric bills, telephone bills, sales letters, and a couple of checks from his latest photo assignments.

  Dismissing most of the mail as junk, Ryan's gaze came to rest on an ivory-colored oversize envelope with his name engraved on the top. The return address caught his attention. For twelve years he had hoped for a letter with that postmark. To get one now was unsettling.

  His hand shook as he reached for the card. He told himself not to be a fool, to throw it away. But he couldn't. Sliding open the seal with his finger, he pulled out the card.

  Serenity Springs invites you to attend its Centennial Celebration, February 20-23, a three-day festival of parties, games, and arts and crafts to celebrate 100 years of history. In tune with this theme, a special dinner will be held Thursday evening in honor of Serenity Springs' own Ryan Hunter, award-winning photojournalist.

  What the hell!

  Ryan picked up the accompanying letter. Ms. Kara Delaney, president of the Serenity Springs Chamber of Commerce, wanted him to be the guest of honor at their kickoff dinner. Because of his world-renowned photographs and reputation as a photojournalist, Serenity Springs considered him their hometown hero and hoped he would be able to participate in the festivities. Jesus! His father must be pissed. Either that or dead. Ryan couldn't imagine Jonas Hunter allowing the town, Jonas's town, to honor his youngest son. And his brother, Andrew, was probably beside himself with jealous rage.

  Ryan shook his head as he read the letter again. There was no way he would go back to Serenity Springs, a small river town a hundred miles north of San Francisco. As a successful freelance photographer, he could choose his assignments. He didn't have to go anywhere he didn't want to go.

  Ryan tossed the invitation in the trash basket and pushed the button on the answering machine. Message after message came across. Two magazines wanted to send him on assignment, one to New York, the other to Hong Kong. His dry cleaning had been ready for three weeks. MCI wanted him to switch from AT&T, and he had just been named a finalist in the Holiday Travel Sweepstakes. Yeah, right.

  The last message was from Camilla Harper, a woman he had met on t
he plane from New York to L.A. She wanted to see him while she was in town.

  Ryan rewound the tape. He didn't feel like calling her back. He was tired of the dating game, tired of women moving in and out of his life. Tired of long airplane flights, no furniture, and fast food. Most of all Ryan was tired of feeling so damned tired.

  He had a good life. He was thirty-three years old and had plenty of money, plenty of jobs, and plenty of hair. He smiled to himself as he ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair. A few strands of gray maybe, but at least he wouldn't be going back to Serenity Springs as a balding, paunchy, overweight nothing. Not that he was going back.

  Walking into the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator. Melanie had cleaned him out there, too. The only things left were a jar of pickle relish, a carton of milk, and a bottle of Gatorade.

  Ryan closed the refrigerator door and returned to the living room. He sat down on the couch, wincing as one of the springs pinched his leg. He wanted to relax, soak up the silence. Only there wasn't silence. The couple next door had "Wheel of Fortune" blaring on the television set. The tenant upstairs was doing step aerobics, pounding the ceiling over his head with a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding in his head. And somewhere in the City of Angels a siren blared through the night.

  He had been an ambulance chaser all his adult life, fleeing to every newsworthy event with his trusty Nikon, ready to record someone's bleakest or happiest moment. He had seen the bulls run through the streets of Pamplona, caught the last lap of the Indy 500, and watched the winning horse cross the finish line at the Kentucky Derby. But he had always been a spectator rather than a participant, traveling the world, trying to find his place in it.

  In fact, he had no place, just an apartment that was little more than a stopover, sometimes furnished by the woman in his life -- sometimes not. Melanie thought he was running away. Maybe she was right. He had always felt the need to keep moving -- just like his mother.