Promise, Texas

by Debbie Macomber

  “She wants to visit Texas.” Travis answered his wife’s question before she could ask.

  “Dallas? San Antonio?”

  “No, Promise.” Travis had trouble believing it himself. “Furthermore, she wants to rent a room from us. Apparently Phil and Mary aren’t accepting reservations.”

  “I see,” Nell said.

  Travis stood and walked across the room and drew Nell into his embrace.

  “What did you tell her?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “I wanted to suggest she take a flying leap and—”

  “Travis…”

  He sighed deeply. “I urged her to play tourist somewhere other than Promise.” Then he kissed his wife, his lips lingering on hers.

  Nell’s eyes were closed. “I think we should.”

  “So do I.” He nibbled her ear.

  “Travis! Not that. I think we should let her stay here.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “I’ve never met Val.”

  “I’d rather keep it that way.”

  “We owe her. If she hadn’t represented Richard Weston, you’d never have come to Texas.”

  Val had been the attorney assigned by the court to defend Richard, who had told her an incredible story about a ghost town called Bitter End. Val had passed it along to Travis—one of the few favors she’d ever done him.

  It so happened that he’d been plotting a book set in a ghost town at the time, so he’d gone to interview Richard. Weston had fed him a convoluted story about the town and some buried treasure. Travis had listened skeptically, but in the end, he had indeed discovered treasure. He’d met Nell and fallen in love.

  “I don’t mind, Travis,” Nell assured him.

  “You actually want to meet her?”

  Nell smiled and nodded. “You love me, don’t you?”

  “You know how much.”

  “Then there’s nothing to be afraid of. We have the space here, and as far as I’m concerned, she’s welcome to rent it the same as anyone else.”

  Travis held his wife close. He wasn’t convinced that allowing Val into their lives was a smart thing to do, but he’d never been able to refuse Nell anything. If she wanted to meet his ex-wife, then so be it.

  CHAPTER 7

  Dovie and Frank hadn’t been gone two days, and already Nessa felt right at home running Dovie’s antique store. There’d been a couple of messages for Dovie on the store’s answering machine; the man’s name wasn’t familiar. But other than that, she’d handled the customers and their requests very nicely, if she did say so herself.

  Nessa had always felt close to Dovie but had never been fond of Leon’s older brother, Marvin, Dovie’s first husband. She’d found him selfish and self-absorbed. Over the years she’d seen the longing in Dovie for a child, but Marvin hadn’t been willing to even consider it. Nessa knew her own children had helped ease that ache in Dovie’s heart. She’d been a wonderful aunt and was certainly a favorite of Sylvia’s. In the past year aunt and niece had clashed over Sylvia’s attempts to control Nessa’s life, but they continued to maintain a healthy respect for each other.

  In fact, as Nessa had told Dovie, it was because of her marriage to Frank that Sylvia had decided her mother should remarry. She cringed every time she thought about it.

  Good grief, Dovie and Frank had been together for at least ten years before they got married. But Sylvia just ignored that little reality.

  Nessa wasn’t in any hurry to venture into a second marriage—if ever. She’d loved Leon too much for that. They’d traveled all over the world together and experienced such incredible adventures. Nessa had memories she wouldn’t trade for anything. Hiking in the Alps with her family. Riding elephants in India, dogsleds in Alaska. She’d swum among stingrays in the Caribbean and climbed Mayan ruins in Mexico. For part of that time their children had been with them, attending local schools in London, Argentina, Labrador, the Middle East. As much as possible, Leon had kept his family at his side. He’d been a wonderful father, a devoted husband. No, Nessa wasn’t likely to find another man like Leon. And frankly, she wasn’t looking.

  The bell above the door sounded, and a distinguished older man entered the shop.

  “Good afternoon,” Nessa greeted him. She didn’t recognize him, but then she hadn’t lived in Promise for many years.

  “Good afternoon,” he returned. He glanced about the shop with interest and obvious approval.

  “Can I help you find something?” Nessa asked, walking toward him.

  “I’m looking for Dovie.” He continued his perusal, his gaze wandering from one display to another. “Dovie Boyd.”

  “I’m sorry, but Dovie’s traveling in Europe.”

  “Oh.” She could tell he was disappointed. “I did try to phone, but when I couldn’t reach her, I thought maybe the shop hadn’t opened yet and…” He let the rest fade.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  He nodded toward the tearoom. “A cup of something hot would be wonderful.”

  She gestured to the small group of tables. “I was about to sit down myself. In fact, the water’s just boiling for tea. Won’t you join me? I’m Nessa Boyd, by the way.”

  “Dovie’s sister?”

  “Dovie and I are—were sisters-in-law. Our husbands were brothers.”

  “Ah, that explains it.”

  Nessa poured the steaming water into an antique Spode pot and carried it to the table with a plate of Dovie’s special peanut-butter cookies.

  “I’m Gordon Pawling,” he said. “Dovie and I met a few years back. On a cruise.”

  “Oh, you’re the man who left those messages.” She glanced at him speculatively as she poured tea into bone-china cups. She liked the way Dovie used mismatched bits and pieces of old tea sets.

  Gordon stirred sugar into his tea. “Tell me, did Dovie marry her sheriff friend?”

  “Yes. More than three years ago.”

  Gordon seemed taken aback. “Good grief, it has been that long, hasn’t it?”

  “Frank and Dovie are vacationing in Europe and I’m watching the shop.” Nessa slid the plate of cookies in his direction and was gratified to see him take one.

  “I’m in San Antonio for a few days for a conference—international law—and I remembered Dovie. I had the day free, and when I wasn’t able to reach her by phone yesterday or this morning, I decided to take a chance and come, anyway,” Gordon said. “I met the Pattersons on that cruise, too, but they also seem to be out for the afternoon.”

  “I know Dovie will be pleased that you visited,” Nessa assured him. “I do hope you’ll take the time to see Promise. It really is a lovely town.”

  “I will,” he said and met her look. “So, you’re new here yourself?”

  “Not exactly new.” Nessa went on to explain that she’d recently returned after many years away. When she mentioned being a widow, he made a point of telling her he was a widower. In the course of their conversation, Nessa learned that Gordon was a retired judge from Toronto, Canada; he’d been invited to the legal conference to participate on a panel. He had one son who was the same age as Sylvia.

  “This store is just the way I pictured it,” Gordon told her over a second cup of tea.

  “It’s very like Dovie,” Nessa agreed.

  “I’m glad she’s happy.”

  They chatted for what seemed to be only moments, but when Nessa checked the time, she was stunned to realize it was half an hour past closing. She finished telling him about Frank and described their small wedding. “Now my children seem to think I should follow Dovie’s example and remarry,” she added wryly.

  Gordon carefully returned his cup to the saucer. “What is it with children these days? My own son has been harping on that very subject. He was the one who insisted I take the cruise.”

  “My daughter, Sylvia, already has a whole lineup of men she wants me to meet. I don’t understand it. You can’t imagine what I went through to convince my o
wn children that I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

  “Your Sylvia has an evil twin in my son.”

  Nessa laughed.

  “It’s taken me a while to understand why it’s so important to him that I get married again.”

  “Tell me, please,” Nessa begged. “Perhaps it’ll help me understand my own children.”

  “Miles and his mother were very close,” Gordon said, his look thoughtful. “He misses her a great deal.”

  “My children miss their father, too,” Nessa murmured.

  “What it all comes down to is that Miles wants a mother. He might be thirty-five, but he still needs his mother. Since Evelyn’s gone, I suspect he’s convinced himself that any woman I chose to be my wife would fit the bill.”

  It was a theory worth considering, but Nessa wasn’t sure it applied to her situation. “I don’t know if that’s the case with my children,” she told him. “I’m afraid I raised chauvinists. My children seem to feel I need someone to take care of me. I thought the three of them would have a conniption when I told them I’d bought a house in Promise.”

  Gordon chuckled. “I’ve been a disappointment to Miles, as well.”

  They laughed and chatted some more, then Gordon glanced at his watch. “My goodness!” he said in a shocked voice. “Look at the time.”

  Nessa didn’t want him to leave and was about to suggest he have dinner with her. Afterward she could give him a quick tour of the town.

  “I should’ve left two hours ago,” Gordon muttered, swallowing the last of his tea. “There’s a banquet I’m supposed to attend. I’m going to be late.”

  It was ridiculous to feel disappointed, but Nessa did. They’d spent nearly three hours talking nonstop, and it felt like three minutes. She didn’t think she’d ever grown this close to anyone this quickly. She could almost persuade herself that she was the one who’d met Gordon Pawling on a Caribbean cruise. That she was the one he’d driven all this way to visit.

  “I don’t know where the afternoon went,” Nessa said, making small talk as she carried their cups to the sink.

  “Me, neither.”

  She didn’t tell him the shop normally closed an hour earlier.

  “I hate to rush out, but…”

  “Go—don’t worry.”

  She understood his need to leave, but it didn’t diminish her feelings of regret. She walked him to the door and then outside, where he’d parked his rental car, a large luxury model.

  He hesitated before climbing inside. “I haven’t enjoyed an afternoon this much in years.”

  She crossed her arms. “Same goes for me.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Nessa Boyd.”

  “You, too, Gordon Pawling.”

  He got into the car and started the engine. He waved as he headed down Main toward the highway; Nessa waved back. She should have returned to the shop then—there were all kinds of things she had to do before closing. Instead, she stood on the sidewalk and watched Gordon’s vehicle disappear.

  With an unaccountable sense of loss, she walked back into the shop and flipped over the sign to read Closed.

  As luck would have it, Adam Jordan’s visit to the first-grade class at Promise Elementary was scheduled for the last week of school in late May. Adam hadn’t seen Jeannie French since the barbecue-sauce episode. He’d avoided her, but probably not nearly as avidly as she’d avoided him.

  Every time he remembered the look of horror on Jeannie’s face, he felt sick at heart. He’d called himself every name in the book and vowed that from then on he’d stay out of her life. The fates had made it clear: they weren’t to be together. Not ever. He was to look elsewhere. Forget her. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be married at all, which was fine by him. The one and only time he’d been really attracted to a woman, he’d done nothing but make an idiot of himself. Oh, yes, he intended to stay well away from Jeannie French. For the sake of his sanity and her wardrobe.

  Then he saw that he was scheduled to talk to the kids at Promise Elementary.

  “You feel like visiting the school this afternoon?” he casually asked Al Green.

  The deputy glanced up from his desk with a look of surprise. “I thought you enjoyed talking to schoolkids.”

  “I’ve got a lot to do today.” He didn’t, but it was the best excuse he could come up with on short notice.

  Al hesitated. “I don’t get along with kids all that well.”

  “You have five of ’em,” Adam reminded him.

  “I like my own—it’s everyone else’s who get on my nerves.”

  Adam grumbled under his breath. He could order Al over to the school, but a lot of good that would do. Al would resent it, which could jeopardize their working relationship. And all because Adam was embarrassed to see Jeannie French. Of course, he could contact the school and ask for a delay, but that didn’t seem fair. Not when the other teachers had planned their days around his visit.

  “All right,” Adam said in a resigned voice. “I’ll do it.”

  Al nodded. “Seeing as you’re the one who volunteered for it, that only seems right.”

  Leave it to Al to remind him of that. Well, he’d be in and out of that first-grade class so fast, Adam promised himself, that Jeannie would barely notice him.

  When Jeannie French saw the afternoon schedule and noticed that Sheriff Adam Jordan would be speaking to her class, her first instinct was to take a day’s sick leave. Not again. He’d already ripped one skirt and ruined the most beautiful blouse she’d ever owned. Jeannie wasn’t normally rude, but she’d never met anyone who had this kind of effect on her. Every time he even came close, something happened. Something ridiculous and embarrassing. She supposed she couldn’t blame everything on him, but still…Some people just didn’t mix, and that appeared to be the case with her and Adam Jordan.

  Until recently, it seemed that everywhere she went, the sheriff was sure to follow…just like Mary’s lamb in the nursery rhyme. She’d been flattered; he was certainly good-looking and actually seemed quite nice. But then he’d ripped her skirt, frightened her out of her wits, locked her keys in the car and destroyed a beautiful new blouse.

  Oh, yes, it was best to acknowledge that any relationship with Sheriff Jordan was doomed before it started. There was another reason she was less than interested in Adam—Will Osborne, a local ranch hand who was handsomer than any man had a right to be. Now if he’d asked her out, there’d be no question about how she’d respond. Will was charming, a little risky and a lot sexy. They’d had a couple of conversations, but nothing had evolved beyond that. Jeannie hoped to see him again soon.

  The morning passed quickly. Jeannie was crazy about her students and they returned her affection in full measure. The minute her first-graders were back from lunch, she found herself watching the clock, knowing the sheriff was due at any time.

  As it turned out, he left her classroom for last. When he entered the room, the children stared up at him, at his uniform, his weapon, his hat, and their eyes filled with awe.

  “Boys and girls,” Jeannie said, standing at the front of the class. “We’re fortunate to have Sheriff Jordan visit us this afternoon. He has some important information for us, so let’s give him our full attention.” She stepped aside and Adam stood before the children.

  Jeannie walked to the back while he reviewed basic safety information. Barely a murmur could be heard. She realized that Adam had become every boy’s hero and every little girl’s knight in shining armor. She looked at him critically. Yes, as she’d noticed before, he was attractive enough. Very fit. About six feet tall. A kind face. She squinted and looked at him a second time, almost hoping she’d feel something. Anything.

  She didn’t.

  When he’d finished, he asked for questions, and the children’s hands shot up. The question-and-answer session continued until the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. A minute later the classroom emptied as the children raced toward the waiting buses.

&nb
sp; So Jeannie found herself alone with Sheriff Jordan yet again.

  “Thank you,” she said, knowing she sounded stiff. “The children enjoyed your talk.”

  He nodded. “I wanted to apologize about the blouse,” he said hoarsely.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’d like to pay the cleaning bill, if you’ll let me.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” She’d already taken it to the cleaners and they’d promised to do the best they could, but they could offer no guarantees. The blouse had cost her nearly seventy bucks—a real extravagance for her—and now there was every likelihood it was ruined.

  Silence again. It seemed so loud she wanted to shout that he should either say something or leave.

  “I’d hoped to ask you…a question at the Winn-Dixie. I realize you—” He stopped and his shoulders moved in a deep sigh. “What I’d…” He started over. “The community has a big dance every June sponsored by the Cattlemen’s Association,” he finally got out.

  Jeannie had heard about it from the other teachers. It was said to be quite the affair. Nearly everyone in Promise made an effort to attend.

  “I know you said you didn’t think the two of us gelled—was that the word? I’m not exactly sure what you mean, and…I figure you should go out with me once before you can be sure of that.”

  This was quite a speech for the sheriff. She could well imagine what the evening would be like—strained, awkward and potentially painful. He’d probably step all over her feet if she danced with him. Not only that, she’d have to bring an extra set of clothes.

  “I will be going to the dance. Janice Reynolds mentioned it last week.”

  The sheriff’s eyes brightened with enthusiasm. “Everyone in the community goes. It’s the biggest event of the year.”

  “That’s what Janice said, but—”

  “Then you’ll go with me?” he asked, not giving her a chance to finish.

  Jeannie felt a surge of anger. He made this so damn difficult. “Please don’t make me say it again, Sheriff.”