by Lin Stepp
She pressed down the sweet memories trying to creep into her thoughts as she looked at the photo. Oh, no you don’t. Don’t you dare go soft thinking about Carter Layman even for one minute. He’s a snake. He didn’t prove true to you—or even to his own professed dreams.
Turning away and encountering her own troubled face in the dresser mirror, she shook a finger at herself. “You keep in mind that Carter Layman drove off to California to college in his Pontiac convertible. Drove off to study computer gaming so he could make a lot of money to help save Laurel Springs. Or so he said.” She snorted. “Remember all that big talk? All those big plans? And then he became a hotshot computer game developer, married some rich man’s daughter—and never came back. You keep that firmly in mind, Rhea Dean, and you remember just how much you can trust Carter Layman. Not one inch.”
She stomped out of the room and pushed open the door to the back porch, where she began to sweep the leaves and debris away with a fury.
An hour later, Rhea’s long strides took her back along the East Cabin Road, following the dusty tracks left by the assembly truck, and then up the paved North Assembly Road toward the main entrance of the camp on Highway 32. She’d vented out her frustrations and anger in work and felt calmer now. As she approached the historic covered bridge over Little Cascades Creek, she could see a car parked inside in the deep shadows.
Rhea frowned as she started toward the bridge. It could be dangerous to stop on the bridge. What were those people thinking? The road through the bridge was a narrow two-lane one, long and dark inside; traffic could hardly see a stopped vehicle from either direction.
With annoyance, she moved closer to the entrance of the bridge and called out a warning to the driver. “You need to pull your car out of the covered bridge. It’s dangerous to stop in there.”
Hearing the vehicle start up now, Rhea stepped back off the road, leaning against the fence rail out of the way.
As the car nosed out of the shadows of the bridge, a familiar voice floated out before it. “I see you’re still as bossy as ever, Rhea Dean.”
Rhea gripped the rail behind her to steady herself as her heartbeat escalated. She’d know that voice anywhere—even after a hundred years.
Into the summer sunshine drove Carter Layman, his familiar black hair a little too long, his dark eyes still mischievous and sleepy, his mouth tweaked in that old sardonic, know-it-all smile. He pulled the white convertible to a stop beside her, draping an arm over the door to study her slowly from head to toe.
She could have died right then. She wore a soiled white T-shirt, a shabby jeans romper with a faded overall top, and battered canvas shoes. Terrific. Her hair straggled down her back and stuck out from under the barrette she’d tried to pin it back with. Any semblance of makeup had faded over the day, and dirt streaks undoubtedly decorated her face from sweeping and cleaning. She still carried her dilapidated work broom, too.
It was definitely not how she’d wanted to look when she saw Carter Layman again for the first time, but, of course, she’d never let him know that. Lifting her chin, she studied him back, giving him the same once-over he’d given her, steeling her face not to give away a shred of discomfort.
She let her eyes sweep over him casually. Dastardly man. He looked heartbreakingly the same—and yet different somehow. She’d seen occasional pictures of him through the years, so she shouldn’t be shocked at how he’d matured, filled out, and become more sophisticated. He seemed tan and fit, easy with himself, his dark coffee eyes watching her with amusement, his even white teeth flashing in a typical Carter grin. Despite the casual clothes he wore, he reeked of money, too. A big diamond ring winked on a middle finger of his hand, and she stood close enough to see the word Cartier on the watch on his arm.
And the car. Good heavens. Her eyes swept slowly over that now. A classic white Mercedes convertible—certainly a cut above the old junker he’d left Laurel Springs in years ago.
He caught her glance assessing the car. “Nice convertible, huh? It’s a 1970 280SE Benz classic, fully restored.”
Rhea tossed her head. “You always did like old cars,” she said in an unimpressed voice.
He chuckled and let his eyes drift leisurely over her again, more intimately than she’d have liked. She crossed her arms defensively and glared at him. “I heard through the grapevine that you finally planned to visit your parents. You sure they’ll still allow you home after all the years of neglect?”
A slow grin spread over his face. “My mom said she made me a blackberry cobbler and my dad’s cooking ribs. That sounds like a promising welcome.”
“Maybe.” Rhea leaned back against the fence, making an effort to assume a relaxed pose. “Wes and Mary Jane always have been hospitable. Even to strangers.” She stressed the last word.
Carter laughed. “Guess that witch’s broom you’re carrying sort of fits your mood today, Rhea Dean.”
A small voice piped in. “Are you really Rhea Dean?” A dark-haired boy leaned around Carter to study Rhea with wide brown eyes. “Dad said you were his best friend ever when you were kids.”
Rhea gripped the fence rail behind her for added support as she realized this was Carter’s child. A pain ripped through her heart at the sight of him. He was the spitting image of Carter at the same age. Well, almost. She looked more closely. The child possessed a sweetness and vulnerability she didn’t ever remember seeing in Carter. Carter had always been a rogue.
She struggled to find her voice. “Your father and I were friends once in the past,” Rhea said to the child.
Her eyes shifted to Carter’s. “But that was a long time ago.” She emphasized the word long. “We don’t know each other anymore.”
“That could change.” Carter’s voice softened as his eyes met hers.
“No. Actually, it couldn’t.” She said each word slowly and emphatically, not dropping her eyes from his.
Rhea thought she saw a wince of pain pass over Carter’s face before his old smile returned. “Rhea, this is my son, Taylor Layman. Taylor turned six in January and I thought it was about time he got a chance to see Laurel Springs.”
“Well, summer is a good time for it.” Rhea picked up the broom she’d leaned against the fence rail and started around the car, wanting to put an end to this conversation.
A large brindled mutt of a dog—maybe an Airedale terrier mix—lifted a sleepy head to eye Rhea curiously from a backseat carrier. He didn’t bark; he just watched her walk by.
Nearing the covered bridge, Rhea paused and looked back. “Why did you stop on the bridge?” she asked impulsively.
Taylor answered before Carter could. “To listen to the water,” he told her with solemn eyes. “It sounds like magic to hear the creek rushing under the covered bridge, and Dad said it was good luck to drop a penny through the bridge cracks into the water below.”
The child leaned over the backseat to pet the big dog’s head through the crate. “I dropped in two pennies for double luck.” His bright eyes met Rhea’s, and then he gave her a concerned look. “Do you think that’s all right, to put in two instead of one?”
“Sure. I’d say so. However many you want.” Rhea tried to keep her voice nonchalant. She and Carter used to drop pennies through the bridge rails—making wishes, planning dreams, whispering and talking in the dark shadows of the covered bridge. Touching, kissing when they grew older. Rhea stopped her thoughts from moving on.
She saw Carter’s eyes probing hers, watching.
Offering a practiced smile, Rhea turned to start up the road again. “I need to get back to work.”
Carter’s voice followed her on a soft note. “See ya later—and love you forever, Rhea Dean.”
She bit her lip not to react to the old greeting they’d always called out to each other through their lifetime, willing away the memories the words tried to conjure up. Increasing her pace, Rhea marched into the covered bridge, leaving Carter Layman and the pain he’d brought her quickly behind.
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sp; Photo by Katie Riley
Dr. Lin Stepp is a native Tennessean, a businesswoman, and an educator. She is on faculty at Tusculum College where she teaches psychology and research. Her business background includes over twenty years in marketing, sales, production art, and regional publishing. But closest to her heart is her beloved series of contemporary novels set in the Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee. Visit her on the Web at linstepp.com.
DOWN BY THE RIVER
Set against the backdrop of Tennessee’s breathtaking Smoky Mountains, Lin Stepp’s Down by the River is a warmhearted novel that proves it’s never too late—or too early—for a fresh start....
While on a visit to the Smokies, Grace Conley makes a stunning decision: She’s going to walk away from her busy life in Nashville to move to tiny Townsend and open a bed-and-breakfast. There’s a beautiful old inn for sale along the Little River that will do perfectly. Of course, Grace’s family is scandalized. After all, she’s a middle-aged widow! And as a career homemaker, she’s always been available for babysitting, chauffeuring, and generally being the peacemaker among her grown children. Has Grace lost her mind? She begins to wonder the same thing once she finds herself attracted to the local ladies’ man. But the surprises don’t stop there....
To further complicate her move, Grace’s daughter, Margaret, has grudgingly come to live with her. Having just graduated from college, remote Townsend is not where she envisions her future. Yet the handsome young minister next door is convinced he and Margaret are meant for each other. As life choices abound, soon both women will discover that the biggest decisions require confidence, a sense of humor—and a deep, abiding faith.
WHEN THE SNOW FALLS
Something’s in the air this holiday season, and it could be the beginning of a wonderful Christmas romance....
“Candy Canes and Cupid” by Fern Michaels
All private investigator Hannah Ray wants for Christmas is a quiet day at her Florida beachfront condo. When her biggest client insists she join him on a Colorado ski trip, she has little choice—but what she finds on her arrival could melt the coldest heart....
“White Hot Christmas” by Nancy Bush
Aspiring PI Jane Kelly likes to pretend she’s a bah-humbug kind of girl, but she’s had mistletoe on the brain ever since she shared a kiss with her boss, Dwayne. Before she can hope for a repeat performance, Jane must solve a kidnapping that’s as twisted as a candy cane—and not nearly as sweet.
“Seven Days of Christmas” by Rosanna Chiofalo
Five years ago, Bianca Simone received a wonderful early Christmas gift from her boyfriend, Mark—a week amid the stunning Alpine scenery of Innsbruck, Austria. Now she’s back under very different circumstances, but Mark has one more special gift in mind....
“A Smoky Mountain Gift” by Lin Stepp
Veda Trent is back in Townsend to fill in as temporary manager of the Crafts Co-op, but she’s not planning to stay. Though the mountain town is small, it holds lots of unsettling memories. Yet the wind can change, bringing with it new opportunities—and the chance to create the kind of Christmas Veda has always longed for.
MAKIN’ MIRACLES
Set in Tennessee’s postcard-perfect Smoky Mountains, Lin Stepp’s Makin’ Miracles is an inspiring tale that reveals why love and forgiveness are most important just when they seem most impossible....
Zola Devon has always been a little different. Half Tahitian, with long black hair and dark eyes, she’s especially distinctive in the mountain town of Gatlinburg. She even stocks her gift shop, Nature’s Corner, with items that reflect her island heritage and tantalize tourists. But it’s her spot-on intuition that truly sets Zola apart. When she gets a hunch about a person, she’s almost always right. And when the surly photographer who owns the gallery next door starts meddling in her business, she can only hope that, for once, her instincts are wrong.
The one thing Spencer Jackson loves more than his camera is the majestic scenery of the Smoky Mountains. Reeling from his painful past, he’s settled in a cabin in the woods to train his lens on the breathtaking landscape. A woman as uniquely beguiling as Zola could only throw his simple, uncomplicated days into chaos—and force him to lay bare his darkest secrets. But as their lives become unavoidably intertwined, they both may discover the beauty of the truth, and the joy of the unexpected.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2016 by Lin Stepp
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-6177-3282-9
First Kensington Electronic Edition: March 2016
ISBN-13: 978-1-61773-282-9
ISBN-10: 1-61773-282-6
