by Janet Dailey
For Mike's Sake
Janet Dailey
An [ e - reads ] Book
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning or any information storage retrieval system, without explicit permission in writing from the Author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 1988 by Janet Dailey
First e-reads publication 1999
www.e-reads.com
ISBN 0-7592-0122-6
Author Biography
JANET DAILEY was born Janet Haradon in 1944 in Storm Lake, Iowa. She attended secretarial school in Omaha, Nebraska before meeting her husband, Bill. Bill and Janet worked together in construction and land development until they "retired" to travel throughout the United States, inspiring Janet to write the Americana series of romances. In 1974, Janet Dailey was the first American author to write for Harlequin, her first novel was NO QUARTER ASKED. She has since gone on to write approximately 90 novels, 21 of which have appeared on The New York Times bestseller list. She has won many awards and accolades for her work, appearing widely on Radio and Television. Today, there are over three-hundred million Janet Dailey books in print in 19 different languages, making her one of the most popular novelists in the world.
Other works in Janet Dailey's Americana Series also available in e-reads editions
Dangerous Masquerade
Northern Magic
Sonora Sundown
Valley of the Vapours
Fire and Ice
After the Storm
Difficult Decision
The Matchmakers
Southern Nights
Night of the Cotillion
Kona Winds
The Travelling Kind
A Lyon's Share
The Indy Man
The Homeplace
The Mating Season
The Bride of the Delta Queen
Summer Mahogany
Bed of Grass
That Boston Man
Enemy in Camp
Bluegrass King
A Tradition of Pride
Show Me
Big Sky Country
Boss Man from Ogallala
Reilly's Woman
Heart of Stone
One of the Boys
Land of Enchantment
Beware of the Stranger
That Carolina Summer
Lord of the High Lonesome
The Widow and the Wastrel
Six White Horses
To Tell the Truth
The Thawing of Mara
Strange Bedfellow
Low Country Liar
Dakota Dreamin'
Sentimental Journey
Savage Land
A Land Called Deseret
Green Mountain Man
Tidewater Lover
Giant of Mesabi
Wild and Wonderful
With a Little Luck
Darling Jenny
Preface
When I first started writing back in the Seventies, my husband Bill and I were retired and traveling all over the States with our home — a 34' travel trailer — in tow. That's when Bill came up with the great idea of my writing a romance novel set in each one of our fifty states. It was an idea I ultimately accomplished before switching to mainstream fiction and hitting all the international bestseller lists.
As we were preparing to reissue these early titles, I initially planned to update them all — modernize them, so to speak, and bring them into the new high-tech age. Then I realized I couldn't do that successfully any more than I could take a dress from the Seventies and redesign it into one that would look as if it were made yesterday. That's when I saw that the true charm of these novels is their look back on another time and another age. Over the years, they have become historical novels, however recent the history. When you read them yourself, I know you will feel the same.
So, enjoy, and happy reading to all!
Introduction
Introducing Janet Dailey's AMERICANA. Every novel in this collection is your passport to a romantic tour of the United States through time-honored favorites by America's First Lady of romance fiction. Each of the fifty novels is set in a different state, researched by Janet and her husband, Bill. For the Daileys it was an odyssey of discovery. For you, it's the journey of a lifetime.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
For Mike's Sake
Chapter One
THE COMPACT CONVERTIBLE zipped down the street, trees leafed out into full foliage to shade the lawns on either side.
The car's top was down, wind ruffling the scarlet gold hair of the driver, dressed in snug fitting Levi's and a blue madras blouse with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
Expertly shifting down to make a running stop at an intersection, Maggie Rafferty saw no traffic approaching and let the little car dart across. Ahead was the ball park and Maggie slowed the car to turn into the small graveled lot near the stand.
Stopped, she lifted the smoke gray sunglasses from her nose and perched them on her head. Her green eyes scanned the cluster of young boys as she pressed a hand on the horn.
Instantly one separated himself from the others and ran toward her, a baseball glove in his hand.
He paused once to wave at the group, backpedaling toward the car.
"See ya Friday, guys!" When he hopped into the passenger seat he was faintly breathless, his dark eyes glittering with excitement. "Hi!"
"Hi, yourself." Maggie smiled, tiny dimples appearing in her cheeks. "Sorry I'm late. I hope you didn't have to wait too long."
That's okay. He shrugged away the apology, absently punching a fist into his glove. "I'm getting used to you always being late," he said with the patient indulgence of an adult.
"Thanks a lot, Mike." She laughed and reached over to tug the bill of his baseball cap low on his forehead.
Punctuality had never been one of her virtues, but she didn't need a ten-year-old son reminding her of it.
"Hey, come on!"
Mike protested the action, removing his cap and putting it back on at the correct angle. Its momentary removal revealed coal black hair, a shade darker than his eyes.
Maggie's gaze skimmed his profile, lighting on the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose. They were the only thing he might have inherited from her. "I told you not to do that."
"Sorry, I forgot." Which wasn't totally true. Mike believed himself to be too old for hugging and kissing. It embarrassed him.
Maggie couldn't smother the urge to touch him and love him, so she hid it under the guise of teasing pokes and gestures.
"Are we going home or not?" he prompted.
"Yes, right now."
As she turned toward the door to took over her shoulder for traffic before reversing into the street, Maggie's gaze was caught by the man standing on the driver's side of a station wagon parked beside her.
Tall, in his thirties, with light brown hair and hazel eyes, he was very good-looking, as suntanned as a lifeguard.
The look in his eyes was decidedly admiring in his inspection of her. His mouth quirked into a smile, accompanied by a slight nod of his head in silent greeting.
Maggie returned the smile and the nod without hesitation. One of Mike's teammates raced around the station wagon to climb in the passenger seat, and Maggie breathed out a sigh of regret. Why were the good-looking ones always married with a little wife waiting at home?
She flipped the sunglasses down on her nose and reversed into the empty street.
"How was your first practice?" The Little League baseball season was just beginning. Maggie didn't want to think about the hectic summer schedule that would be ahead.
"Great. The coach says I'm going to make a good utility man, 'cause I can play any position on the field … except pitcher, of course. Maybe I should practice pitching."
He considered the idea.
"Instead of being good at every position, you should concentrate on one or two and become the best at those."
"I guess," Mike conceded."I've gotta improve on my hitting. I didn't do too well today."
"It's only your first practice," Maggie reminded him.
"Yeah, I know. Coach said he'd give me a few pointers about switch-hitting and all if I'd come earlier than the other guys for practice. Do you suppose you could manage to bring me early?"
"You wouldn't have been late today if Aaron hadn't called from the office just as we were leaving." Maggie correctly interpreted the question as a slur on her character.
"Yeah, but you always leave everything to the last minute. Then when something comes up, we're always late."
"We'll get an earlier start next time," she promised.
There was a flash of blue at the end of a side street, the shimmer of sunlight off the smooth surface of water.
In Seattle there always seemed to be a flash of blue around the corner, whether from a lake or an inlet or Puget Sound itself.
"You don't have to take me. I could always walk."
"We've been through that before, Mike." Her mouth was set in a firm line, irritation sparking through her that he should bring up the subject when she had made her feelings so plain on it before. "It's too far for you to walk."
"It wouldn't be too far if I had a bike, a ten-speed. I saw one the —"
"Your birthday is coming up."
Mike groaned.
"Summer will almost be over by then!"
"If you'd taken better care of your old bike, you wouldn't be without one now."
"I only forgot to lock it that one time. How was I supposed to know someone was going to come along and steal it?"
"I hope it taught you a lesson and you'll be more careful with your next bike."
"If you're going to get me a bike for my birthday, do I have to wait clear till then? Couldn't I have it early?"
"We'll see."
"Maybe if I wrote dad, he'd buy me one now," he muttered, not content with her half promise.
Maggie gave him an angry sidelong look.
"You just ruined your chances of getting a bike before your birthday. I've told you repeatedly that you aren't going to play me and your father off against each other. If you persuade him to buy you a bike before your birthday, I'll lock it up until your birthday. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Mike grumbled, hanging his head, his mouth thinning into a sulking pout.
Concealing a sigh, Maggie let her green eyes look back to the road. God, how she hated playing the heavy-handed parent!
But she had little choice, really. Mike was only behaving as any child of divorced parents would. If she let him get away with his emotional blackmail, he'd be walking all over her. And nobody walked over her, certainly not her own son.
"It isn't so bad, is it?" she asked, trying to ease the friction between them. "To have me take you to practice?"
"No, it isn't so bad," he agreed glumly.
"From now on, I'll make sure you're there early so the coach can give you some tips on hitting, okay?"
"Okay."
As she glanced at him, Mike gave her a sideways look through thick black lashes. A sudden, impish light glittered in his dark eyes. "I know why you're going to get me there early. It's the coach, isn't it?"
One thing about Mike, he never held a grudge, a trait that was totally his own.
Maggie smiled. "The coach?" She didn't follow his comment.
"Yeah, the coach." There was a knowing grin on his face."I saw the way he looked at you."
"The way he looked at me?" She laughed in bewilderment. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't even see Coach Anderson at the ball park."
"He isn't our coach this year. We've got a new one, Tom Darby."
"Oh," said Maggie in understanding and repeated the sound in realization. "Oh, your new coach was the one by the station wagon, the tall, good-looking man."
"Yeah, do you want me to introduce you?"
His dark eyes were twinkling with an awareness beyond his years, but then children seemed to grow up quicker nowadays.
Maggie hid a smile at his matchmaking attempt, but there were telltale dimples in her cheeks despite the straight line of her mouth.
"The coach's wife just might object to that, Mike."
"He isn't married."
His grin deepened.
"The boy who got into the station wagon with him …"
"… was Ronnie Schneider. Coach was giving him a ride home. You don't think I'd try to line you up with a guy who's married and has kids of his own, do you, mom?"
"You can just forgot about lining me up with him. If there's any lining up to do, I'll take care of it." As they turned a corner the wind blew her hair across her cheek, flame silk against her ivory complexion. Maggie pushed the tangling strands back.
"From the look he gave you, it won't take much lining up," Mike declared with decided certainty. "He'd like to make it with you — I could tell."
His candor brought a bubble of indignant reproof, but Maggie swallowed back most of it, releasing a tame reprimand.
"You see more than you should."
"It's a fact of life, mom. A feller can't ignore it." He shrugged, knowing he was being outrageous and enjoying the feeling.
"It's not my fault I have a beautiful mother and that half the guys think you're my older sister."
"Do you mind?"
She slid him a curious glance as she turned the car into the driveway of their home.
"Nah, I just tell everybody that you had a face-lift and you're really a lot older."
"Mike!"
She didn't know whether to be angry or laugh, and in the confusion became capable of neither.
He laughed heartily, finding her astonishment riotously funny.
"I don't tell them that, mom, honest. But you should have seen the look on your face!"
Maggie stopped the car in front of the garage door. "Wait until you see the look on your face if I ever find out that you have!"
But the threat wasn't made in earnest.
"Seriously, mom —" he opened the door and hesitated before stepping out of the small car "— I don't mind that you look young and beautiful. And I wouldn't mind a bit if the coach was your boyfriend."
"Oh, you wouldn't?"
Maggie switched off the engine and removed the key from the ignition. "Do you think it might help you to score a few points with the coach?"
"It couldn't hurt. It would be pretty hard for him to bench the son of the girl he's dating, wouldn't it?"
"If you deserve benching, the mother might suggest it to the coach,"
"Oh, well," he sighed as he climbed out of the car, "you can't blame a guy for trying to cover all the angles if he can."
With a shake of her head, Maggie stepped onto the concrete driveway. Mike took the short flight of steps to the front door two at a time and waited impatiently at the top while Maggie rummaged through her cloth purse for the house key.
"What's for lunch? I'm starved!"
"Homemade noodl
es." She handed him the key to unlock the door and reached for the letters in the mailbox.
"Can we eat now?"
He was in the house, tossing his baseball glove on the sofa while be headed for the kitchen.
"The glove belongs in your room and we'll eat in twenty minutes, after you've washed and I've fixed a salad."
"You're trying to turn me into a rabbit. Salad!" Mike declared.
"The glove and wash," Maggie reminded him, catching him before he reached the kitchen and turning him back to the living room."And you like salad, so I don't know why you're complaining about it now."
"I don't like it for every meal."
As Mike retraced his path to the living room, Maggie had to admit her menus had been lacking in imagination lately.
She supposed it was a problem all working mothers faced. Cooking for only two people wasn't easy, either.
Still, Mike's criticism was justified and she should do something about changing it in what was left of her two weeks' vacation.
Maggie set the mail on the counter and began rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. There would be time enough to look over the bills later. Right now, she had a hungry boy to feed.
Boy. Dimples were carved briefly in her cheeks at the word. After that observation about his coach, Mike was fast outgrowing the term of boy.
And matchmaking yet. Still, it was better that he had no objections to her dating. It would have been unbearable if he were jealous and resentful of her seeing other men.
But Mike had only been five years old when Maggie had finally obtained her divorce, so his emotional scars were few.
Mike evidently liked his new coach. Tom Darby — Maggie remembered the name.
He was good-looking, in a jock sort of way, and she would have been less than honest if she didn't admit that she had been attracted to him. He evidently liked children, otherwise he wouldn't be coaching a boys' Little League team.
Most of the eligible men she had met lately had either been too young or too old, but this Tom Darby was … Maggie took a firm grip on her imagination. The man hadn't even asked her out yet — if he ever would — and here she was assessing his possibilities!
Mike burst into the kitchen.
"My glove's in my room and my hands are washed. Can we eat now?"
