The Calendar of New Beginnings

by Ava Miles

  The Calendar of New Beginnings

  ~ Dare Valley ~

  Lucy & Andy

  © 2016 Ava Miles

  Sign-up for Ava’s Newsletter

  Ava’s Website

  Ava’s Facebook

  Ava on Goodreads

  Ava’s Twitter

  The last thing international photojournalist Lucy O’Brien expected when she returned to her hometown was for her mother to ask her to shoot photos for a ‘Calendar Girls’-like calendar…

  Of course, it’s all for a good cause—raising money for breast cancer. Lucy agrees to help—ribald photos and all. It’s not like she’s told anyone her secret reason for coming home: that a recent trauma overseas threatens her livelihood. But her longtime BFF, Dr. Andy Hale, isn’t letting her keep secrets from him. He understands heartache. After losing the love of a lifetime, he’s now a widower raising a young son.

  Everyone in town is wondering if the boy-next door and the zany traveler will finally move from friends to lovers. At first, the sparks of attraction fly amidst their easygoing banter over ice cream cones. But there are deeper feelings at work here, and both must uncover the seeds of their new beginnings together, realizing there’s nothing more powerful than love and friendship to pave the way.

  To Aidan—for changing the course of my life and being an integral part of the new beginning I’ve been calling in.

  And to my divine entourage, who supports me so beautifully living this new story.

  Acknowledgements

  Every one of my books is supported by the most amazing people ever:

  My Dream Team of Sienna, Jade, Angela, Shannon, Emerald, Em, Hilary, and Alisha.

  Lori Antonson of The Axelrod Agency for helping me expand even more globally.

  Dr. Michael C. Chappell of Arkansas Ophthalmology Associates, whose work with veterans affected with severe eye trauma brought him to me via the best cheerleaders on the planet, Dr. Tabitha King and Dr. Richa Thapa.

  Dr. Katie Defore for more medical brilliance.

  Tracy Allan, an incredible global photographer, who gave me remarkable insights.

  Jean Warrick, an old family friend from Nebraska, who told my parents she’d posed in Tilden’s racy “Better Half” Calendar to raise money for the local hospital, and sent me the calendar, which inspired this book.

  To all my supporters—from my beloved readers to my representatives at all my distributors and beyond.

  Chapter 1

  Lucy O’Brien had never longed for the small town of Dare Valley while she was globetrotting as a photojournalist in the warring mountains of Afghanistan or the conflict-ridden plains of sub-Saharan Africa. She’d been too eager to explore the world and experience everything it had to offer. And she had. After leaving her hometown for college eighteen years ago with nothing more than a bright blue suitcase, Lucy had seen the full spectrum of life—ancient monuments and natural wonders, horrifying mass graves, and starving children.

  But her life had changed dramatically a month ago when she was caught in an attack on a Congolese village. Her injuries had mostly healed, but the vision in her right eye hadn’t completely returned. Teaching at Emmits Merriam School of Journalism in Dare Valley for the fall semester would be her holding pattern until it did. Hopefully. As a photographer, she was right-eye dominant, so her whole career hung in the balance.

  A thousand memories flittered through her mind as the red Lexus NX Hybrid she’d leased in Denver crested the rise of Sardine Canyon and her hometown came into view. Dare Valley stretched out before her as magical as morning mist on the savannah. The brick and wood-crafted buildings were organized as precisely as the inner workings of a Swiss timepiece. The imposing mountains rose up like sentries guarding the small town. The clouds surrounding the setting sun sunk into the mountains’ craggy ridges, softening the scene.

  The billboard she passed on her way into town—a new addition since her last visit home, nine months ago for Christmas—made her smile. Welcome to Dare Valley—A Sweet Home in the Mountains.

  The town was still booming, from everything she could see. Progress had fashioned Dare Valley a new dress, a mix of modern fabric with an old-world hemline. Her dad’s Irish bar—the popular Hairy’s—was a town icon, but there were newer, trendier places lining Main Street. She passed Sleek Lines, where her mom exercised to Latin music, and Hot Cross Buns Bakery, which had replaced a long-time favorite.

  Lucy turned off Main Street onto Ponderosa, crawling along the pavement like she was on a Sunday afternoon drive. In many ways, she was. With only partial vision in her right eye, she was still approved to drive, but she was careful to take it slow. Her brain was still learning how to combine the two very different images her eyes were seeing. Besides, she wanted to absorb everything in sight, hungry for old and new pictures of this place she’d once called home. This place she planned to call home again—although she didn’t know for how long. That made everything look and feel different somehow.

  The Victorian she’d grown up in was painted yellow now with purple trim, something her parents had debated for a year until her dad finally caved. Harry and Ellen O’Brien might fight over everything from how to load the dishwasher to what kind of vodka her mother put in her cosmopolitans, but her mother usually came out on top.

  For the hundredth time, Lucy reminded herself to be patient with her mother. She already knew her mother would use this temporary return to Dare Valley as an opportunity to try and reshape her life. Ellen just couldn’t seem to help herself. Lucy understood. While she had gotten her Irish temper from her father, she’d inherited her hard head from her mother.

  After all the battles she’d witnessed overseas, she had no desire to dive into a power struggle with her mother over being single at thirty-six. Ellen O’Brien wanted grandchildren from her only child and wasn’t shy about saying so. If that wasn’t enough pressure, Lucy knew her mother also wanted her to remain in Dare Valley as a permanent professor at the Emmits Merriam School of Journalism. How many times had her mother told her she should stop globetrotting and settle down? More than Lucy could count.

  There weren’t any parking spaces on the street, so she pulled into her parents’ driveway and cut the engine. She took a moment to settle down, her nerves stretched tight from the drive.

  Judging from all the cars on their slice of Ponderosa, someone was clearly having a Denver Raiders pre-season game party this Sunday night. One thing Lucy had missed about living in the States was the easy access to American football. She told herself that was another positive about her temporary return home.

  No one rushed out of the house to greet her, but while she’d texted her parents before leaving Denver, they were probably watching the game too. They’d made noise about coming to pick her up last night, but that was one battle she had won. She’d needed to drive her long-term rental car to Dare Valley. What she hadn’t told them was that she’d wanted to prove to herself she could do normal things like driving.

  Her parents didn’t know anything about her recent accident, let alone the doctor’s appointment she’d had in Denver this morning. They would freak out if they knew, and since she’d always edited the dangerous stories of her life, she hadn’t seen any need to change the status quo. All they knew was she was taking a much-needed break from the unrelenting pressure of her job.

  Grabbing her purse, she walked to the front door. The leprechaun doorknocker greeted her, and she touched his rosy-red nose with a smile. She’d loved coming home from school to see that little man winking at her. The door was unlocked like she knew it would be, and she let herself inside.

  “Mom. Dad. I’m here.” There was an odd scuffle of feet, so she cocked her ears. “Hello?
”

  A sudden flash off to her left had her head turning.

  “Surprise!” a chorus erupted.

  Lucy jumped a foot as people rushed out from behind the French doors leading to the dining room. If she’d been anywhere other than Dare Valley, she would have dived for cover.

  “Holy shit!” she cried out in reflex. Viewing the world with diminished visual acuity was still weird. She fought the urge to close her right eye so she could see perfectly, but that would give her away.

  A few people were laughing. Her heart rapped in her chest as she surveyed the crowd. Her parents stood in the center of the Hale family, her longtime friends. Everyone was beaming sunshine at her.

  “You guys scared the hell out of me.”

  “Got ya,” her dad said with a wink as mischievous as the leprechaun on the door.

  “You sure did,” she replied, trying to suck in oxygen. A surprise party? What were they thinking? Then again, they didn’t know why the timing was terrible, and that was on her.

  Her mom charged toward her, wearing a billowy peasant top and a gypsy-style skirt. Her father was two steps behind, sporting a Raiders T-shirt and cargo shorts. Lucy braced herself for impact.

  Her mom’s strong arms wrapped around her. “Oh, Lucy! We’re so glad you’re finally home.”

  She pressed her head into her mother’s hair, inhaling the patchouli smell she wore like a hippie who’d never grown up. “Me too, Mom.” And she meant it. Mostly.

  “Stop crushing the girl, Ellie,” her dad said, hovering. “Hand her over.”

  “In a minute, you big oaf,” she shot back, raising her head and giving him the fish eye. “I gave birth to her.”

  Harry O’Brien rolled his eyes at his wife like he’d been doing his whole life. “I’m counting to five, woman. One. Two.”

  The crowd behind them chuckled, and Lucy made a quick scan of them. April Hale, her mom’s best friend, was flanked by two of her daughters, Moira and Caroline, near a dessert table loaded with chocolate chip cookies and her mom’s lemon squares. Arthur Hale, the man who’d put Dare Valley on the map for outstanding journalism, was leaning on his cane beside the makeshift bar her dad had stocked with everything from beer to her mom’s infamous cosmopolitans. His granddaughter, Meredith, and her husband, Tanner, stood next to him. Meredith was Moira and Caroline’s cousin.

  Her mom cupped her face suddenly, making her look away from the other guests. “We’ve missed you, Lucy. So much. It’s past time you came home for good.”

  Oh, heavens. Here she goes. “I’ve missed you too, Mom.” Lucy finally noticed the light highlights in her mother’s hair. “The new look works.”

  Her mom flicked one of her curls after wiping a stray tear. “I told your father I wanted to go blond to see if they have more fun.”

  “And do they?” she asked, feeling a bit trapped by her mother’s grip.

  “I’m working on it,” her mom said with a twinkle in her eye. “Now that you’re back, we’ll work on it together.”

  That sounded ominous. Lucy had never liked wearing peasant blouses and gypsy skirts. She hoped that wasn’t what her mother had in mind.

  “Enough, woman,” her dad bellowed. “You’re hogging our only child. Come here, Lucy Lu.”

  There was another tug on her arm, and her mother thankfully relinquished her hold. Her dad’s big arms brought her to his massive chest. While Lucy had outgrown her mother by four inches while she was in high school, her dad still towered over her at six-foot-six. He might be a little softer around the middle, but he still had the body of a bruiser.

  “Ah, Luce,” he whispered so only she could hear. “I’ve missed you so, little one.”

  For a big man, he’d always been gentle. Sure, he could yell like a warrior or throw a ruffian out of his bar, but he was never like that with her.

  “I missed you too, Daddy,” she said, smelling the hops and barley he always carried on his skin from all the beers he pulled.

  “Let me look at you,” he said, pushing her back until she stood an arm’s length from him.

  Studying her probably wasn’t a good idea. She wasn’t back to one hundred percent yet, and she didn’t want him to have an inkling anything was wrong. Not that there were any visible signs of what had happened to her, especially with her eye.

  Maybe it was selfish, but she didn’t want to feel the weight of their worry. Besides, if her mom knew, she’d only double her efforts to talk Lucy out of going overseas again. She didn’t need her mother exerting that kind of pressure on her when she was this vulnerable.

  Her dad’s eyes narrowed, like he saw something that concerned him, so she poked him in the stomach to divert him.

  “Hey! Can’t a girl get a beer around here?” she asked, going for his Achilles. “I haven’t had a decent pour since I was home last.”

  She caught sight of the spread on the dining room table. There was a honey-glazed ham, fresh bread, a fruit and cheese tray, and big green salad in a wooden bowl. Her stomach growled, but while she was hungry enough to eat a bear, there was no way she was choosing food just now. Not when so many people had come here to see her.

  The corner of his mouth tipped up, but he didn’t take his shrewd eyes off her. “I’ll get you a Murphy’s right away, kiddo,” he said finally, giving her a wink. “Okay, who’s next in line?”

  “I am,” she heard a familiar voice say.

  Turning, she felt a smile bloom on her face. Andy Hale, her best friend since kindergarten, was smiling back at her. Together they’d learned how to color inside the lines, climb trees, and ride bikes. They’d stayed close despite how much time she’d spent away.

  “Andy Cakes!” she cried, using his nickname, and then they were moving toward each other.

  He hugged her tight. “You would ruin a perfectly good homecoming by calling me that.”

  She knew he didn’t mean it. Everyone who truly loved him still called him by his nickname sometimes.

  “How could you let my parents throw me a surprise party?” she whispered so only he could hear. “I’m still jet-lagged.”

  “Like I would say anything,” he whispered back. “Everyone knows you don’t mess with Ellen O’Brien.”

  “True that,” she said, letting him go and taking a moment to simply stare at him.

  He’d been taller than her since the seventh grade, but not tall enough that she had to crane her neck. That had changed junior year, when he’d sprouted up to six-three. He looked incredible, she had to admit. His short, dark brown hair framed an expressive face anchored by a strong jaw and brow bones. When he wasn’t smiling, those angles probably looked harsh to some, but to her, they’d always described the contrast that was Andy Hale. He was as incredibly strong as he was sweet. Always had been.

  When they were in high school, she’d felt occasional flashes of attraction to him, but she’d wanted out of Dare Valley too much to let anything interrupt her focus. They’d stayed friends and only friends, and she was grateful she hadn’t risked one of the most important relationships in her life.

  Lucy had gone off to attend the prestigious School of Visual Arts in New York City, and Andy had gone off to the University of Colorado before finishing his medical degree at their famous School of Medicine in Boulder. He’d met his wife, Kim, through his sister, Natalie, gotten married and had a kid—everything everyone had expected Dr. Andy Hale to do. Then the story had suddenly and heart-wrenchingly changed. Kim had gotten breast cancer and died two years ago, leaving him to raise their son alone.

  Few could understand such a tragedy, let alone process it and move forward, and Andy had floundered for a time. Leaving his pressure-ridden job at a leading Denver hospital and returning home to work at the local Dare Valley General had been a good move for him. She was happy to see him looking more relaxed and less grief-stricken than when she’d seen him last.

  A brown-haired boy in a yellow shirt and navy shorts ran forward and wrapped his arms around Andy’s legs.

 
; Of course, her color vision wasn’t back to normal yet either, so perhaps those navy shorts were really black. She had a hard time distinguishing between similar shades. If the problem stuck, she feared it would hurt her ability to capture important elements like color contrast in her photographs.

  Danny Hale had inherited his father’s eyes, but his extra-serious gaze was rare for a five-year-old. Having met plenty of other children who had lost their parents young, she understood how tragedy matured a child.

  “Danny, do you remember Ms. O’Brien?” Andy asked his son, cupping the back of the little boy’s neck in tenderness. “She’s the one who takes photos all over the world and sent you the ones of the animals we’ve only seen in the Denver Zoo.”

  Not all of her photos were of war and starving children. Sometimes she liked to capture nature’s beauty, and she’d thought a little boy who’d lost his mother might like to experience some of life’s wonders. It had been her way of helping Andy, whose own devastation over losing Kim was heightened by his son’s grief.

  “I remember her, Dad,” Danny said, climbing around his father’s leg like a monkey. “She’s the one who took a picture of the baby camel by my bed. Hi, Ms. O’Brien. That’s so weird since I call a lady Mrs. O’Brien already.”

  She shuddered as he pointed to her mom. “Hi, Danny. How about you call me Miss Lucy instead? Less confusing that way. You can keep calling my mom Mrs. O’Brien.”

  “I like your mom,” the little boy said, glancing over to where her mother was talking with his grandma and the Hale girls in the dining room. “She’s my grandma’s best friend. They take me all over town when Dad needs a break.”

  Andy rolled his eyes.

  “Especially for ice cream,” Danny said in the high cadence of a little boy. “I like chocolate chip cookie dough. What’s your favorite?”

  “Mocha almond fudge,” Andy replied for her. “She always shared her ice cream with me, and I shared mine with hers.”