by Susan Hatler
THE END
Spring in Sweetwater County (Sweetwater County series, Book 2)
Forty years after the death of her true love, Judy Gaylord discovers he’s alive. With the guilt of her falling into the arms of his cousin to console her grief, she now must face the man she betrayed.
Dr. James Benjamin has dedicated his life to helping people deal with their post-traumatic stress disorder in hopes of forgetting about his own trauma. Not wanting to risk the safety of others, he’s spent decades alone, but when he sees the woman he never forgot from before the war, his heart awakens.
When circumstances force Judy and James to work together, they soon discover old feelings never faded. Judy must forgive herself and James will have to face his fear or they will miss their second chance.
About the Author
Ciara Knight
CIARA KNIGHT writes to ‘Defy the Dark’ with her fantasy and paranormal books.
Her debut novel, The Curse of Gremdon, was released to acclaimed reviews, securing a Night Owl Top Pick and five stars from the Paranormal Romance Guild. Also, released in 2012 is her young adult series, Battle for Souls. Book I, Rise From Darkness, won July Book of the Month at Long and Short Reviews.
Ciara’s newest young adult/new adult Amazon #1 bestselling series, The Neumarian Chronicles, launched in 2013, causing an “uprising” of attention from fans and reviewers.
Her first love, besides her family, reading, and writing, is travel. She’s backpacked through Europe, visited orphanages in China, and landed in a helicopter on a glacier in Alaska.
Ciara is extremely sociable and can be found at Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Pinterest, Instagram and her blog.
Titles by Ciara Knight
Winter in Sweetwater County
Spring in Sweetwater County
Summer in Sweetwater County
Fall in Sweetwater County
Christmas in Sweetwater County
Battle for Souls Series
Rise From Darkness
Fall From Grace
Ascension of Evil
Beautifully Unnatural
The Neumarian Chronicles
Weighted
Escapement
Pendulum
Balance
Forever the One
by
Rochelle French
Chapter One
Sometimes life just stinks. Sucks, actually, Sadie Courant thought as she stared in her bathroom mirror. Leaning forward on the marble vanity, she gazed, blurry-eyed, at her frazzled reflection. Hideous. Alone in her big empty house, with no one around to see her acting like she was twelve again, she stuck her tongue out at the mess staring back at her. “Damn it,” she muttered, irritated at the world and at life in general.
There was no way around it—she’d need to spend a good half hour blow drying and then taking the flat iron to the mass of froth on her head. No way could she go out looking like this. Thank God for her flat iron, God’s second-greatest gift to the world.
Ethan Sawyer, of course, was God’s first greatest gift to the world. The man was a blessing from the Great Divine. Or Mother Earth, or whatever entity gave out such delicious presents. Ever since Sadie was eleven, no boy—or later, when she grew up, no man—could ever measure up to Ethan. Yeah, sure, fantasy probably played into her perception of him, but still, even through the years he’d been…amazing. Awesome. Beyond desirable.
Still looking in her bathroom mirror, she turned sideways and groaned. The dress she wore did nothing for her figure. It fell too close to her knees, meant for someone shorter than her five feet, ten inches, and was meant for someone with a much nicer rear. Then again, her pancake butt remained flat no matter what she wore.
“It’s just Ethan, you idiot,” she whispered to her image in the mirror.
But it wasn’t just Ethan. It never had been just Ethan.
This was supposed to be a glorious day. The day she’d see Ethan again after twelve long and fantasy-filled years. Ethan, the man of her dreams, her unfinished business. She was going to be gorgeous—perfectly straightened hair, perfectly applied makeup, perfectly fitting dress—and he would be rendered speechless when he saw her. She wasn’t the scrawny twerp he’d last seen. She was all woman now, and wow—did she ever want to knock his socks off.
Instead, she looked like a mess. She’d been an hour late getting back home to Meadowview due to her flight home from LA being delayed. Her luggage had somehow been sent to Denver, and she’d had problems with a recalcitrant rental convertible—a car that had decided on its own she needed the top down—in the rain. She’d already texted Ethan to cancel their pre-auction dinner, hating every word she’d typed in. He’d been fine about being stood up and had texted back that he was excited to see her at the bachelor auction.
Not as excited as she was. To say her nerves were jangled would be a gross understatement—they were fried. She had hoped to be calm when she saw Ethan, to present herself as a cool and collected woman and not as an overly anxious puppy dog, hyperventilating the minute she laid eyes on him. But her stomach wouldn’t stop doing the tango. Or maybe it was the cha-cha. Disco?
Thank God he’d agreed to headline in the bachelor auction she’d set up as a fundraiser for the Modern Playwright’s Festival. Having Ethan Sawyer—former Broadway star and now famous New York director, local boy made good—as one of the bachelors agreeing to auction off a date, would bring in a sizable amount to the fundraiser. She’d been just about floored when he’d agreed to fly all the way from New York to California to be in the auction. And had just about passed out when she realized that finally, after all these years, she’d see him in person again.
“Hey, Sadie?”
She jumped. Blast. That was Theo’s voice. What was her brother doing in her house? “I’m up here,” she called out. “Getting ready. Why aren’t you at the auction?”
Several loud thumps sounded outside her room as Theo took the stairs, two at a time. A few seconds later, he burst into her room, dressed in a tuxedo. He looked great except for his missing cummerbund, unbuttoned shirt, and bow tie dangling from one hand.
Panic surged through her. “Oh, God. Why aren’t you dressed? You’re one of the bachelors who’s supposed to bring in a ton of money—you’re supposed to look nice. Besides the fact that you represent this family. And that means you represent the charity, as well.” God, her brother could drive a saint crazy.
“You’re the boss,” Theo said, working on the buttons of his shirt. “But don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard on this fundraiser? I mean, it’s not like we’re in LA. This is Meadowview we’re talking about here. Population two thousand and four. Two thousand and three when I’m in San Francisco. Maybe back off on the stress, sis.”
She glared at him, then turned her back and returned to the bathroom, intent on finding her blow dryer somewhere in the tangled nest of electrical cords she’d find in the drawer. Organization and perfection were her mother’s purview—not Sadie’s. “I won’t fail this town, Theo. I take my responsibility as the Executive Director of the Modern Playwrights Festival seriously.” Sure, she sounded like her mom, all lecture-y and stuff, but God, Theo was such a brat.
Thirty years ago, their ridiculously wealthy parents had initiated a small summer stock festival featuring new plays written by modern authors, and had set it up under the umbrella of their family’s philanthropic institution, The Courant Foundation. Within five years, the festival had grown to national importance and had put the old mining town of Meadowview on the map, re-energizing its flagging economy with the tourist dollars pouring in from festival attendees. Now, the town shimmered as the epitome of a quaint and sweet American small town, with its wooden sidewalks, two-storied brick shops, and gingerbread Victorian homes. Her parents had made the small town the success it was today, and no way would she let her community down.
“I’m just saying, you might want to chill out.”
“Chill out?” She snorted. She fi
gured she wasn’t strung too tight, but she also didn’t have the laconic, laid-back attitude of her brother. After rummaging around in the drawer for another moment, she finally located the blow dryer and the flat iron. Plugging in the dryer, she added, “Just because we were born with a silver spoon in our mouths doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work. So you run your charitable arm of the foundation, and I’ll run mine. Now, unless you have a reason for being here, you need to get over to the theater. All the bachelors are supposed to be there”—she grabbed her cell phone, checked out the time, then gulped—“five minutes ago. Again, why are you here?”
“Ethan said you blew him off for dinner. I wanted to swing by, make sure everything was okay before heading over to the theater.”
Ethan. Just his name sent a thrill through her chest and brought her right back to grade school, drooling over just the thought of him. “I’m fine. Just had problems with the flight and now I’m late. Please, for my sake, get over to the theater and make sure everything’s going okay, would you? I trust the staff I hired, and apparently from the texts I’m getting, all’s well, but I’d feel better if a Courant was on location. And there’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere with my hair looking like this.” She gestured to her wet hair, already forming wild and crazy blond corkscrews.
Theo, annoyingly, patted the top of her head and then turned to leave. “I think Ethan’s headed over there already. Want me to give him a message?”
What, like, I adore you? I’ve thought about you since I was eleven? I’m so excited to see you I can’t stop thinking I’m going to pee? Yeah, right. “No. I’ll be there as soon as I get this hair under control. Just make sure he’s okay.”
“No prob, sis.”
Theo’s footsteps faded into the background as she turned the hair dryer onto full volume.
Fifteen minutes later, hair now dried and straightened, Sadie twirled, checking out her image in the mirror. Maybe the dress wasn’t so bad . After all, it would have to do, since the perfect dress she’d originally selected for tonight was apparently on an airplane somewhere over the Rockies.
She plopped down on her bed. An old shoebox, decorated with tissue paper, ribbons, and lace sat next to her on the duvet, containing all things related to Ethan. Her Ethan Box. She’d been eleven the day she met him, and had promptly fallen in love with the boy four years older than her who’d handed her a dandelion and told her to make a wish. Instead of blowing away the puffy seeds, she’d run home and found an empty shoebox in the back of her mother’s closet. In it she’d placed the dandelion, then had spent hours decorating the box, dreaming of Ethan Sawyer.
Throughout the years she collected bits of his life—newspaper articles about his high-school baseball career, or of him being crowned Homecoming king, or programs from the plays he’d been in either at Meadowview High or in the theater program her parents had run and that now she ran. Later, she added his graduation announcement from Harvard, followed by reviews of every play he’d ever been in, even those in which he’d just had a walk-on role, and finally, playbills and articles about Ethan Sawyer, Broadway’s starring director.
She flicked the lid off the box, ready to add the advertisement for tonight’s event, the paper with Ethan’s face prominently displayed on the front.
“Hey, Sadie?”
Theo’s voice, coming from behind, startled her. She stood, then dropped the box and scrambled to hide it from his view. And promptly stumbled and fell.
Directly on her Ethan Box.
She choked back a cry. Destruction met her eyes. Two corners of the box had ripped open completely, spilling the contents onto the floor. Several fragile items, including a miniature Christmas ornament in pearlescent glass and gold filigree—a present Ethan had given her over fourteen years ago—all had been crushed by her weight. Tears pricked at her eyelids.
Childish ninny, she thought when the tears threatened to overflow. Here she was, a professional twenty-seven-year-old, blubbering like a baby over a few broken items from her childhood.
Only these were no mere broken items…these were reflections of her broken heart.
“What is all this?” Theo asked.
She whirled around to see her brother, standing directly behind her, staring at the contents of her Ethan Box. Oh, God, no. No way could she let him know about her wild crush for Ethan. Theo would tease her forever.
“Why did you come back?” she choked out. Desperate, she moved to shove the box under the duvet cover, but Theo stopped her by grabbing her hand.
“I left my wallet. And hence the condoms I thought I might use tonight.”
“Who says ‘hence?’”
He ignored her question. “What is all this?” Slowly, he lifted each item and article, noting the dates that ranged from years ago until now. His jaw tightened and his eyes grew soft. Carefully, he placed the contents back in the shoebox and replaced the lid. Instead of laughing at her, or poking fun the way he always did, he put his arms around her in a comforting hug.
“Maybe someday he’ll wake up, sis,” he whispered against her hair, then let go of her and left the room.
Maybe. But she doubted it. If Ethan had ever wanted her the way she wanted him, he would have made that clear ages ago. At least she knew her brother thought it wasn’t insane she had a major crush on his best friend for years. Not that Theo’s opinion mattered. So, okay, it mattered some. She sucked in a deep breath. Time for theatrics was over. She’d clung to her Ethan Box for years. Maybe now that she was about to see him again, she could let go of the past and move on to the future.
But not if she continued to sit around her house and mope. Besides, she had a job to do. And nothing would stop her from keeping Meadowview the financial success it had become. In a flurry of activity, she shoved the box under the bed, grabbed her purse, and headed to the door, intent on seeing Ethan for the first time in years.
And intent on grabbing a martini to calm her spazzing nerves.
Once outside, she hopped into her hybrid and drove through the calm streets of Meadowview, not taking time to admire the quaint brick buildings that made up the town, with their wrought-iron railings and the white picket fences. Instead, she focused on getting to the Meadowview Theater. Built in the late 1800s at the height of the gold mining era, the theater had been well cared for, its regal atmosphere retained by the original brick façade and iron shutters, high ceilings, and private balconies. There she’d find Ethan. And would hope not to get caught drooling. Or become a total nitwit and pass out.
Once she reached the center of town, it took several long minutes to locate a parking spot. The bachelor auction, a fundraiser for the Modern Playwrights Festival, Meadowview’s claim to fame and her source of income, had apparently drawn quite the crowd. Main Street, Market Street, and even the alleyway were lined bumper to bumper. At least the summer rain had stopped. The melodious hum of crickets added to the night air as she strode up the wooden sidewalk to the theater.
Bucolic. Calming.
Not.
With a deep breath, Sadie swung open the heavy iron door. Stepping into the theater, she was suddenly slammed with the intense energy of the crowd, almost all women, each eager to win a date with a dream bachelor. She gulped. Goodness gracious, what form of hell had she unleashed upon the tiny town of Meadowview when she thought up this bachelor auction as a fundraiser for her beloved festival?
She was supposed to meet her two best friends, Chessie Gibson and Lia Sawyer, Ethan’s little sister, but the pack of women seemed to grow with an other-worldly life force, making Sadie wonder if she’d ever get out alive, much less find Chessie and Lia.
“Sadie!”
Through the insatiable roar of the crowd she heard the loud call of her name. Thank God. Someone she knew.
Chessie slithered her way past a group of heavily made up middle-aged women, all fanning themselves with their auction paddles. A full-length sleeveless white satin gown clung to her lush curves, and ropes of pearls swayed in rhythm with
her long auburn locks as she strode forward. With a martini glass in each hand, she looked the epitome of a 1930s starlet.
“Chessie!” Sadie called back, opening her arms to hug her friend.
Before Chessie could reach her, however, she stumbled, swishing martini contents all over the floor. “Dratted heels,” she swore, handing Sadie a now nearly empty drink.
Sadie gaped as Chessie removed first one then the other four-inch silver heel from her feet and tossed them behind a potted plant. “You can’t be serious! You’re going to dump your shoes?”
Chessie downed her martini and reached for Sadie’s, finishing it off in one gulp, then said, “Of course I am. I detest heels. They may make my legs look great, but at such a sacrifice. Nothing’s worth that much pain.”
“I can’t believe you threw your shoes away.” Sadie bent to peek behind the bush, looking for a gleam of silver. “You may be a fashion geek, but this is a bit much, even for you.”
Having fashion and style drilled into her on a daily basis by her overly perfect mother had made Sadie constantly aware of style and dress. However, no matter how hard she’d tried to pass on some of her mother’s style advice to Chessie, it had never rubbed off. Chessie would probably be perfectly content dressed in a paper bag. Or even wandering around life butt naked.
Although tonight, Chessie looked beautiful. The dress suited her, even if the shoes didn’t.
“Leave them there,” Chessie said. “I picked them up at Shoes-for-Less for under ten dollars. They're not worth you crawling around on the ground trying to keep me shod.”
“I can’t believe one of my best friends would attend the fundraiser I’d sweated blood and tears over without shoes.” Sadie huffed. “But fine. Have it your way. Go barefoot for all I care. Oh—wait—that’s right: you are barefoot!”
Chessie laughed, the sound rolling rich and full from her throat. Smiling, Sadie linked arms with her friend, pulling her along on a hunt for a fresh martini. “Is Lia here yet?” she asked.
