At least, she consoled herself, she wouldn’t have her heart broken again, either.
Weariness seeped through her, and she stifled a yawn.
Across the table, Vickie knotted her brows. “You look bushed. Did you sleep last night?”
“I drove straight through. Wanted to beat the storm here this morning. And wanted to get here before my car conked out completely. It started making funny noises outside of Fargo.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you go back to the boardinghouse and get some sleep? Come back here for supper at seven. Nathan will be home then, and you can meet Ricky and Shannon when you’re rested. They’ll wear you out otherwise.”
Jennifer hesitated, but the prospect of spending the evening by herself in her very comfortable but lonely room at Gwen Tanner’s helped her make up her mind. “I’d love to come. But don’t go to any trouble for me.”
“No trouble. As far as I’m concerned, you’re one of the family.”
The sincerity in her friend’s voice was a pleasant contrast to Jennifer’s chilly encounter with Luke. “I’ll be here at seven.”
Vickie stood, scooping up Caitlyn in her arms, and with her daughter dozing on her shoulder, walked Jennifer to the door.
A few minutes later, head bent into the wind as she struggled along snow-clogged Main Street toward the boardinghouse, Jennifer wondered if the glint she’d noted in Vickie’s eyes when she said goodbye was a trick of the light or a sign of the mischief for which her friend was famous.
Must have been the light, Jennifer decided, unable to think what trick a grown-up Vickie with three children might play on her childhood friend.
LUKE ENTERED HIS OFFICE and resisted the urge to lock the door behind him. Surely Wyla wouldn’t follow him again.
He’d barely managed to escape her in the diner, where she’d appeared as soon as Jennifer had left, asking oblique questions in an attempt to pump him for particulars on his run-in with Jennifer. He’d pretended not to hear, but with the persistence of a terrier after a rat, she’d asked again.
“Sorry, Wyla,” he’d said, “but I can’t stop to chat now. I was up all night cordoning off the pavilion before the storm arrived, and I have a mountain of paperwork on my desk. Have to get back to work.”
His excuse had been truthful. The inside of his eyelids felt like sandpaper, his mind was fuzzy from lack of sleep and the files on his desk reproached him. For a moment he thought longingly of the cot in the lockup in the back room. With the snow and wind raging outside, Jester was unlikely to experience a crime spree before the weather calmed, but he knew if he lay down, he’d be plagued by memories of Jennifer Faulkner—and the reality of the beautiful woman she’d become.
Resigned to his clerical tasks, he refilled the coffeemaker with water and fresh grounds and flipped the switch. Settling into his desk chair, he grabbed the folder he’d abandoned when Wyla had blown into the room earlier. But he couldn’t concentrate on the report of the arrest of a drunk and disorderly patron at the Heartbreaker Saloon night before last.
His eyes kept straying to the calendar on the wall beside him.
It was ten years ago this month that he’d first realized he loved Jennifer Faulkner. That fact had hit him out of the blue, like a lightning bolt on a clear morning. The winter had been mild that year and mid-March unusually warm, thanks to El Niño—or was it La Niña? Luke could never keep the genders of those weather systems straight. At any rate, he’d had the day off from his job as a Pine Run deputy and had agreed to Vickie’s request to drop her off at Cottonwood Farm. Jennifer had arrived from the expensive boarding school she attended in New England, to spend spring break with her grandparents.
Dolly Faulkner had met them at the door with a hug for each and the mouthwatering aroma of cinnamon buns wafting from the hallway behind her. “Come into the kitchen. Coffee’s on and the rolls are hot.”
Dolly was like a second mother, hard to say no to. Besides, Luke had no plans for the day, his stomach was growling with hunger, especially after a whiff of Dolly’s specialty, and he always enjoyed the Faulkners’ lively company.
He’d followed Vickie and Dolly into the kitchen, where Henry had sat at the round oak table, smooth and shiny as glass from Dolly’s constant scrubbing, and smelling pleasantly of lemon oil. Everything in the room glistened and sparkled under Dolly’s care.
Even Henry.
Luke couldn’t remember ever seeing Henry when he didn’t look as if he’d been scrubbed and dressed for Sunday school. When the old man had owned his hardware store on Main Street, he’d come to work each day in a fresh chambray shirt, starched so stiff it rattled, and jeans or slacks with a crease sharp enough to cut butter. His gray hair, thinning at the crown, was cropped close. Henry had once attempted to grow it long enough for a comb-over to disguise his balding scalp, but Dolly wouldn’t have it. Said it made him look like an old man. Luke had heard she’d made a pact with Dean Kenning, the barber, so that no matter what Henry requested when he went into Dean’s shop for a clip, he always received the same close cut.
Remembering, Luke smiled. Dolly and Henry had been an unlikely match. She was bubbly and talkative, with a personality like summer sunshine. Henry was taciturn, withdrawn, and seemed to live under a thundercloud, but the love between them was so palpable you could almost feel it when they were together.
Their appearances were as opposite as their natures. Dolly was short and plump, barely chest-high to her gaunt, long-legged husband. Jennifer had apparently inherited the best of each of her grandparents. Except for being tall and long-legged like her grandfather, she looked exactly like Dolly with her dark blond hair, aquamarine eyes and pretty face that lit up like a summer day when she smiled. The only other trait of Henry’s she’d inherited was a touch of his aloof nature, which manifested itself in Jennifer as shyness.
Henry had glanced up with what passed for a smile when Vickie and Luke came into the kitchen. “Hello there, McNeil young’uns. Jennifer will be down in a minute. Have a seat.”
Luke sat next to Henry, facing the door to the hall. Vickie sat across from him, and Dolly set a plate with a cinnamon bun the size of a saucer in front of each of them, then turned back to the stove for the enamel pot that always held simmering coffee.
“How’re things over in Pine Run?” Henry asked. “Any crime sprees we should know about?”
Luke grinned. In Pine Run, three parking tickets and a jaywalker counted as a crime wave. “Things are quiet. Folks getting ready for spring. You putting in a crop this year, Henry?”
Henry nodded. “Sugar beets.”
Dolly appeared at Luke’s elbow with a cup of coffee for him. “Tell me, Luke, how come a handsome young man like you isn’t married yet?”
Luke took a sip of Dolly’s famous brew and rose to the bait. It was a game they’d played ever since Luke had graduated from high school five years earlier. “You know the answer to that, Mrs. Faulkner. I’m waiting for Jenny to grow up so I can marry her.”
At that moment he glanced at the doorway, saw Jennifer standing there, and felt his heart stop in his chest. As if blinders had fallen from his eyes, he realized that Jenny was no longer the gawky, skinny little kid who’d played with his sister and followed him around like a puppy. The beautiful woman she’d become made his mouth go dry. Her designer jeans, obviously bought in some back-East boutique, definitely not at the Mercantile in Jester, hugged hips with just the right amount of curve to drive a man wild, and sheathed legs that seemed to go on forever. A tooled belt with a silver buckle cinched her tiny waist, and the crisp, white shirt, open at the neck, revealed a delectable hint of cleavage.
As seductive as her body had become, her face was even more alluring. Gone were the awkward planes of childhood, even though a sprinkle of freckles still graced the bridge of her nose. Her high cheekbones, small but regal nose and tilted chin would put Madison Avenue’s highest-paid model to shame. Long, dark lashes framed eyes the most startling shade of blue, and her sun-stre
aked blond hair was caught up in a sophisticated French braid with enchanting wisps of curls framing her remarkable face.
Pretty little Jenny Faulkner had grown into a woman. The woman, Luke realized with a jolt, that he’d been waiting for all his life.
His retort to Dolly was no longer a joke, but God’s own truth. He’d been waiting for Jenny to grow up so he could marry her.
CHAPTER THREE
LUKE SHOVED BACK from his desk, trying to push away the memories as well, without success. That morning ten years ago, he’d fallen in love with the woman that little Jenny Faulkner had become.
And it hadn’t been just her sudden physical maturity that had hooked him. He’d always found Jenny’s personality appealing, from the streak of mischief that kept him looking over his shoulder and watching his step whenever he knew she was around, to the deep affection and devotion she displayed toward her grandparents, and the sense of humor that erupted unexpectedly, like sunshine from behind the cloud of her shyness.
He couldn’t shake the recollection of that distant March morning. “I’m waiting for Jenny to grow up so I can marry her,” he’d said.
She’d tossed him a challenging glance as she took her seat at the table. “That dog won’t hunt, Luke McNeil. I turned eighteen in January. You’ll have to find another excuse besides me for not settling down.”
“Luke’s still sowing his wild oats,” Vickie teased, “and wild barley, wild rye, wild corn—”
“Best not to aggravate your brother when he’s wearing a gun,” Luke warned with a twinkle in his eyes.
“But you’re off-duty,” Jennifer said, her eyes searching Luke for signs of a weapon.
“It’s in a holster at the small of my back,” he explained, “under my sweater. And no need to worry. I took an oath never to shoot my kid sister, no matter how big a pain in the a—er, neck she becomes.”
Vickie flashed her brother a grin and wiped icing from the corner of her mouth with her little finger.
“Besides,” Luke continued, unable to take his eyes off Jennifer, “I’ve had enough of the single life. It’s time I did settle down.”
Vickie’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You feeling okay?”
“Best I’ve felt in years.”
Luke winked at Jennifer across the table and was rewarded with a delightful blush that spread from the open V of her blouse to the curves of her cheeks. Vickie and Henry seemed oblivious to the exchange, but Dolly glanced from Luke to Jennifer with a knowing smile, like the cat that ate the cream.
“So what are your plans after graduation?” Luke asked Jennifer, suddenly hungry to learn all he could about her. “Going to college?”
Jenny shook her head. “I’ll be coming here as soon as school’s out. Figured I’d take a year off to decide what I want to do.”
“Maybe you could find a job, like I did,” Vickie suggested. A year older than Jennifer, she’d gone to work recently as a receptionist at the new clinic in town opened by Dr. Nathan Perkins.
“I’ll have plenty to do here at the farm,” Jennifer said, “helping Gramma and Grandpa.”
Dolly reached over and gave her granddaughter’s hand a squeeze. “We’re looking forward to having you, child. And I’ll certainly enjoy the company. Gets lonesome here at times.”
Even though Henry had sold his hardware business, he apparently missed downtown life, Luke thought. Between morning and evening chores, Henry spent most of his time at the barbershop, jawing with Dean Kenning and Finn Hollis, his two best buddies. Luke expected Dolly did find the farm lonely for most of the day.
“So.” Dolly shook off her momentary melancholy. “What are you young people up to today?”
Jennifer glanced at Vickie with raised eyebrows. “How about a movie?”
“Sounds good to me,” Vickie replied, “if Luke will drive us into town.”
“Take my truck.” Luke tossed the keys to Vickie, who fumbled them in her amazement at the offer. “I’ll walk home.”
“You’re welcome to come with us,” Jennifer said, her offer a blend of shyness tinged with anticipation.
Lord knew, he’d wanted to go, but he’d had to talk to Henry first. “Thanks. Maybe next time.”
The girls left, and while Dolly cleared the table, Luke followed Henry to the barn. He had tremendous respect and affection for the old man, and he wasn’t about to ask Jennifer for a date without her grandfather’s approval.
Luke’s request had caught Henry by surprise. He’d run his fingers over his close-cropped hair and shook his head. “I still think of Jenny as if she’s ten years old.”
“She grew up while we weren’t looking.”
“You’re a good bit older than she is. Five years or so, isn’t it?” The lines in Henry’s face deepened with a frown.
“Old enough to treat her with more respect than some randy teenager might,” Luke countered.
The old man had agreed, but cautioned him that Jenny was a good girl, and he didn’t want her reputation spoiled by any “monkey business,” Henry’s euphemism for sex.
“Anything like that goes on,” Henry had warned, “and I’ll come after you with the Winchester I keep over the fireplace for vermin.”
Luke had promised Henry, and it turned out to be the hardest promise he’d ever had to keep, because he’d never wanted any woman, before or since, as much as he’d wanted Jennifer. And what he’d felt had been more than physical attraction. He’d loved her with a passion that had alarmed him with its intensity.
And he’d believed she’d loved him the same way.
What a fool he’d been.
A flurry of motion drew his attention to the window. Jennifer, chin tucked against the wind, was struggling along Main Street. At the sight, a disturbing combination of desire and anger blossomed within him. He wondered if she was headed for her car, and for an instant worried about her driving in the vicious storm.
Then he reminded himself that Jennifer’s welfare wasn’t his business, hadn’t been his business for over ten years. Hell, her welfare had probably never been his business. He’d been just too damned gullible not to recognize it.
As much as he tried to hold that hardened attitude, his heart told him differently. He remembered the tears in Jenny’s eyes the night he’d asked her to marry him. They’d been tears of joy and happiness, something pretty tough to fake. And there’d been nothing false about her kisses, either. Recalling her lips against his, the curves of her body contoured against him, the sweetness of her breath, the tightening of her arms around his neck and the love radiating from her face when she gazed at him made him admit she’d cared for him.
Then what the hell had happened?
Should her reluctance to announce their engagement have been a clue? Luke hadn’t thought so at the time. Jenny had worried that folks would think her too young for marriage, just months out of high school, so she’d asked Luke to wait until Christmas before they broke the news to anyone. She’d made him promise not to tell her grandparents, not even Vickie. At that point, she could have asked for the moon and he’d have given it to her. As it was, he’d planned to buy her the biggest diamond he could afford for a Christmas present.
At least the lack of an announcement had spared him public humiliation when she’d dumped him and returned East, but it hadn’t saved him from a broken heart—and an anger that still festered to this day.
Poor old Henry. He’d never known how close Luke had come to marrying his granddaughter.
Luke slumped in his chair and stared across the desk at the seat Henry had occupied countless times before his death. On days when the barbershop had filled, demanding Dean’s attention, and Finn had headed home with a new book for his collection under his arm, Henry had wandered into the sheriff’s office in search of company.
The change in the old man after his wife’s death and his granddaughter’s desertion had been radical. His formerly immaculate clothes had turned thread-bare and sported food stains and dirt. His close-cropped
haircut, no longer mandated by Dolly, had turned into a shaggy mane. But worst of all had been the pain and sadness in the old man’s eyes.
Something else had lingered there, too, something strangely resembling guilt, although Luke, for the life of him, had never been able to figure out what Henry Faulkner had to feel guilty about.
“You need to find yourself a good woman and settle down,” Henry had advised him on more occasions than Luke could count. The old man never knew that Luke had once planned on marrying Jennifer and presenting him with great-grandchildren.
“And once you find that woman,” Henry had said with a strange hitch in his voice, “don’t ever take her for granted. Let her know every day how much you love her.”
Remembering, Luke rubbed his weary eyes with his fists. He’d found that woman ten years ago, but things hadn’t worked out, and to this day, he hadn’t a clue why.
Another damned mystery he couldn’t solve, he muttered to himself as he watched Jennifer disappear in a swirl of snow.
FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME, Jennifer closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but her efforts at an afternoon nap proved futile. Not that the bed in the corner second-floor room of Gwen Tanner’s boardinghouse wasn’t comfortable. With its firm mattress, sheets that smelled of lavender and sunshine, and fluffy down comforter, it was a vast improvement over the rented bed she’d slept on in Chicago for the past year. Her inability to rest had nothing to do with furniture and everything to do with what was going on in her head.
And her heart.
If she’d known seeing Luke McNeil again would affect her so strongly, she would never have returned to Jester, she swore to herself. But she knew that she lied.
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