He helped her stand up and led her to the public seating area to be hugged and congratulated by Kate and Jeremiah, Jeb and Amanda, Ben, Jonas, and both of his sisters. Townspeople hung back to give the Sterling family time to rejoice. Then a sea of smiling faces moved past Taffeta, and she shook countless hands. She felt like a bride in a receiving line.
The Sterlings left immediately to make the long drive back home to prepare for the bonfire party and barbecue. They planned three large fires to ward off the chill of April’s evening air, and everyone would have to wear coats, but there would be a celebration no matter what the weather was like. People in Mystic Creek were accustomed to braving the elements.
Weary beyond description, Taffeta leaned against Barney for support as she greeted even more people, many who had become good friends, others who were still total strangers. Barney knew everyone by name, of course.
When the courtroom finally emptied, Taffeta blearily focused on two individuals who had never left their seats in the very back row, Grace and Cameron Gentry. They beamed happy smiles at her, but Taffeta wondered if their expressions concealed pain. Unless Phillip’s expensive defense attorney pulled off the impossible, Grace and Cameron’s only son would soon be doing prison time. In addition to that, they had essentially just lost their granddaughter.
“I need to speak with them,” Taffeta said to Barney.
Lending her the support of his strong arm, Barney guided her into the row just ahead of her ex-parents-in-law. Taffeta tried to lower herself gracefully onto the bench seat, but her tailbone panged as her posterior connected with the wood anyway. She hooked her arm over the back, bringing up one knee to brace herself as she met Grace’s and Cameron’s gazes.
“You look worse than I feel,” Grace said with a weak laugh. She had undergone triple-bypass surgery two weeks earlier, and according to what she’d told Taffeta over the phone, she still wasn’t allowed to do much of anything. “And I feel pretty awful.”
“I’m exhausted,” Taffeta confessed. “Mostly from nerves, I think. I was so afraid that the judge would deem me unfit to be Sarah’s mother.”
“Not a chance,” Cameron said. “I would have raised hell.”
“And been charged with contempt of court,” Grace reminded him.
Barney sat beside Taffeta, also turned sideways on the bench. “I would have gone to jail with you, Cameron,” he said with a laugh.
Taffeta loved Phillip’s parents. When Phillip had married her, she was terrified of them. What if they didn’t like her? What if they felt that she was unworthy to be Phillip’s wife? But never once had these people treated her with anything but kindness.
“I want you to know that I’ll accommodate you in every way I can so that you can maintain a strong relationship with Sarah,” Taffeta said to them. “Barney feels the same way I do about that. You are her grandparents, and she should spend lots of time with you.”
Grace smiled through sudden tears. “We both know that you’ll make sure we see a lot of Sarah. And we’re looking forward to that. Cameron is dying to take her to Disneyland. But I’m afraid that will have to wait until midsummer. I should be recovered enough by then to keep up with her again.”
It was now mid-April, a little over a year since Taffeta’s shadow dance had brought Barney to knock on her apartment door. “That isn’t so long to wait,” Taffeta mused. “After the baby is born, maybe we can come back to Erickson for a visit.”
“What are you going to name him?” Cameron asked.
Barney injected, “I’m leaving it up to Taffy, my only stipulation being that he won’t be named after me.”
Taffeta felt less weary now that she was starting to relax, and she gave a genuine laugh. “I think Barnabas Asher Sterling is a fabulous name.”
Her husband gave her a long look. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t curse a kid with that handle for a million dollars.” He grinned at Cameron. “I’d love to chat longer, but she’s tired, and I need to get her home. By the time we run by your place to collect our daughter and attend the celebration barbecue at my parents’ house, it’ll be late, and she’ll be dead on her feet. And,” he added, “she’s close to our due date, so getting her back home to be near her doctor is important.”
Cameron arched an eyebrow. “I understand that you’re going to adopt Sarah,” he said to Barney.
“God willing, yes. Taffy and I both think she should bear the same surname as all her siblings as she’s growing up. I hope you don’t mind that she’ll no longer go by Gentry.”
With a shake of his head, Cameron replied, “She’ll always be our granddaughter, no matter what name she goes by. And before we know it, she’ll get married and might change it anyway.”
“Not until she’s thirty,” Barney informed him. “I don’t plan to let her date until she’s twenty-nine.”
Grace chortled and then flattened her hand over her recently opened breastbone, grimacing at the pain. “Oh my. You caught me by surprise with that one.”
Just then, Taffeta caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see Tessa, the Gentrys’ housekeeper, enter the courtroom. Sarah stood beside her, grinning broadly.
“Hi, Mommy! Hi, Daddy! Tessa brought me here so I can go straight home with you!”
Cameron winked at Taffeta. “Her things are packed and in the trunk of our car. We thought it would be easier on you to take her home from here.”
Taffeta reached over the seat to squeeze Cameron’s hand. “You’re the best, Dad.”
Cameron blushed but smiled. “Music to my ears. I’ve lost a son, but apparently I’ve gained a daughter.”
Barney pushed erect and met Taffeta’s gaze. “I’ll go out with Tessa to get all Sarah’s stuff into my truck. Until I get back, you can chat with Cameron and Grace.”
“Can I go help?” Sarah asked.
“Sure.” Barney exited the row and took hold of Sarah’s small hand. “You have to stand on the sidewalk while I carry stuff, though. No running out into the street.”
Smiling, Taffeta drew her gaze back to Cameron and Grace. “I grew up in foster homes. I’ve never clapped eyes on my mother or my father. I know that both of you have endured a great deal of pain over Phillip’s behavior, and I’ll understand if you’re not quite ready for this, but I’d love to be granted permission to call you Mom and Dad. I’d also like to think of you as my parents. As Sarah and our other children grow up, that will make things more normal for all of them. They’ll have grandparents on Barney’s side and grandparents on my side.” Taffeta paused, trying to read their expressions. “That doesn’t mean that Barney or I will expect you to treat our other kids as if they’re your actual grandchildren. He and I talked about it, and we’ll explain to our younger kids that Sarah is your real granddaughter, and they’re only grandchildren by marriage.”
Grace closed her eyes, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Cameron looked as if he was about to pucker up and cry, too. “Sweetheart, the instant Phillip brought you home, you became the daughter Grace and I were never able to have. We’re so sorry now that we turned our backs on you during your trial, or that we ever believed, even for a short time, that you had harmed Sarah.” He swallowed, making his larynx bob. “We didn’t expect your forgiveness. And we certainly never expected you to still love us. Having you as our daughter now—well, we’d both be honored. Right, Grace?”
Grace lifted her tear-soaked lashes. “Absolutely right. But I have to correct you on one point, Taffeta. Cameron and I would never dream of treating your other children differently than we do Sarah! No matter how many kids you have, we’ll never take her somewhere and leave them behind. Never. We’ll love them all and feel privileged to have the chance!”
“We wanted a half dozen kids,” Cameron said. “But after Grace had Phillip, she couldn’t conceive again. We considered adoption, but—” He sighed and lifted his hands. “Phillip was
a handful, even when he was little. Difficult beyond belief. We decided it wouldn’t be fair to bring other children into the mix.”
Taffeta wanted to lean over the back of the bench to hug both of them, but her belly was too large. “I love you guys, and I think all my children are going to be very lucky to have you in their lives. You need to come for the Fourth of July. Barney’s family does it up big. And you absolutely can’t miss Christmas! Sarah will love having you there, and little Barney will love it, too. He’ll be old enough to interact with you a little by then. There is nothing sweeter than a baby’s smile.”
Grace drew her eyebrows together in a frown. “You aren’t really going to name that baby Barnabas, are you? What if he grows up and goes into local law enforcement like his father?”
Taffeta laughed. “If I named this child Barnabas, my husband would never forgive me. They do have a biblical theme for names in his family, though. Maybe I’ll name this little guy Moses.”
Caught off guard, Cameron snorted with laughter. Grace only smiled. “I sincerely hope you’re joking. Whether you’re my daughter or not, I’ll help Barney torture you if you name my grandson Moses.”
Taffeta feigned surprise. “You don’t like that name? I think it’s absolutely grand.” Then she relented. “It may be the wrong century for it, though. That said, old-fashioned names are in right now, and I think Moses is pretty cute.”
Just then Barney and Sarah returned. “I’ve got all her stuff loaded into the truck. We need to make tracks for home and get your legs elevated for a while before the party. Your ankles are twice their normal size.”
Taffeta struggled to her feet, made her way to the center aisle, and met Grace and Cameron there for farewell hugs. Sarah gently embraced her grandmother, careful not to hurt her, but she latched onto Cameron’s neck and refused to let go for a few seconds.
“We’ll see you again very soon,” Cameron assured the little girl. “And we’ll see you on video calls often. Those are always fun.”
Sarah finally let go of her grandfather. “I’ll show you our new puppy. Now that I’m going to live with Mommy, my new daddy says we’re going to the Mystic Creek No-Kill Shelter to pick out a dog. He’ll be little at first, but someday he’ll be great big with long hair.”
Moments later, Taffeta and Barney left the courthouse, each of them holding Sarah’s hand. April had gifted them with sunshine instead of showers, and to Taffeta, it was like stepping outside into a shimmer of gold as they walked down the steps.
“Ready to go home?” Barney asked Taffeta over the top of Sarah’s head. “I’ve been told that mysterious things can happen there. People who stand along Mystic Creek are destined to fall in love and live happily ever after.”
Taffeta smiled, but she refused to laugh. She now believed in the legend of Mystic Creek. Barney had confessed that he did as well.
“I love you, Taffy,” Barney said.
“I love you, too, Barney.”
“I love you, Mommy,” Sarah chimed in, following it with “I love you, Daddy!”
“I love you, too, Sarah,” Taffeta replied. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Barney reached down with his free hand to tickle Sarah’s ribs. “I love you, Sarah,” he said. “I always wanted my own little girl, and now I’ve got you.”
As he stood tall again, he said, “We sound like the Waltons saying good night to each other. Did you ever watch those reruns?”
Taffeta grinned. “I adored them.”
“We’re going to be like that,” Barney said. “A large family in a house that’s filled to the brim with love.”
Taffeta nodded. No matter what challenges might lie ahead of them, she would love Barney Sterling with every breath she took, and she knew that he would love her just as deeply.
She was ready to go home. Home to Mystic Creek where miracles happened. Today was the first day of the rest of their lives, and she meant to enjoy every second of it.
Don’t miss the first book in bestselling author Catherine Anderson’s Mystic Creek series,
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Jeb Sterling swore under his breath as he trudged across his steer pasture, snatching up litter. Small pieces of pink paper decorated the grass, looking like overblown clover blossoms. They were everywhere. Why had someone chosen to toss trash from a car window in front of his place? Jeb took pride in his property and spent hours each summer at the business end of a Weedwacker. His fencing, made of metal pipe that he’d welded together, always sported immaculate white paint. The landscaping he’d done around his house could be featured in Better Homes and Gardens. He did not appreciate some jerk using his land as a garbage dump.
Stalking around the enclosure, Jeb grumbled aloud as he picked up the pink slips and crushed them in one hand. As he captured the sixth before it fluttered away, his anger changed to bewilderment. What the hell? Somebody had written a note on this one. Smoothing the damp, wrinkled strip, Jeb read aloud, “‘I wonder how much money I need to buy a decent used car. I don’t care if it looks awful as long as it runs. Walking back and forth to work in this cold weather is the pits.’”
Frowning, Jeb collected more pink strips from the pasture, then found a few more on his front lawn, and another in his driveway. He took the lot inside and sat at his custom-made dining room table, which he’d designed to seat twelve, twenty with inserts, similar to tables once common among large farm families.
Pushing a hank of blondish brown hair off his forehead, he smoothed the notes flat. I wish I could find secondhand winter boots for my little girl. I can’t afford new ones, and my boss says we’ll soon have deep snow. Jeb shook his head. Winter boots for a kid didn’t cost all that much. Or did they? Thirty years old and determined to stop counting birthdays, Jeb remained a bachelor and had no kids. He was not an expert on the cost of children’s apparel. Maybe one of his younger brothers or sisters would get married and start reproducing soon. Then Jeb’s parents might stop bugging him about settling down and providing them with a grandchild.
Judging by the handwriting, delicate and flowing, Jeb decided the notes had to be from a woman. Most guys he knew did a print-write thing.
The next note made him grin. I wish I could meet a man as kind and wonderful as the hero in one of the romances I love to read, someone who’d be a fabulous father to my little girl and make both of us feel safe. Jeb guessed this lady liked to read sappy love stories. His smile faded. Why did this woman and her child feel unsafe? And, hello, was he being targeted? He found it difficult to believe these messages had landed on his property by accident. Maybe this gal had seen him working outside and decided he looked like promising husband material.
No way, sister. Jeb wasn’t that desperate. His mother kept telling him the lady of his dreams would cross paths with him right when he least expected it. But so far that hadn’t happened, and Jeb was coming to accept that it probably never would.
Just then his dog farted. Jeb groaned and glanced over his shoulder. “Damn, Bozo, turn the air blue, why don’t you?”
A brindle Fila Brasileiro mastiff, Bozo had a dark brown muzzle and ears, with a gold body that looked as if it had been splattered with different shades of mud. The dog woke from his nap, yawned, and then shook his head, sending strings of drool flying from his flapping jowls to decorate everything within a three-foot radius. When Bozo was younger, Jeb had raced around to clean up the drool immediately, but then he’d read online that once dried, it could be wiped easily from surfaces or vacuumed up.
“If I ever meet the right woman, she’ll take one look at you and run screaming in the other direction. You know that, right?”
Bozo growled—his way of talking. Grinning, Jeb resumed reading the notes. My only weapons are a cast-iron skillet and a butcher knife hidden under my mattress so my daughter won’t find it. If my husband tra
cks us down, I pray that God will give me the strength to knock him out with the frying pan. I will die before I let him hurt my baby again.
Bozo let loose with another fart. Flatulence was a trait of the mastiff that Jeb had overlooked when deciding on a breed. Waving a hand in front of his face, he wished he could lend this poor lady his dog, not to torture her with the less-than-aromatic delights, but for security. With Bozo on guard, she wouldn’t need a heavy skillet for protection.
Jeb turned his attention to the next note. Damn, he thought. This could become addictive. He felt as if he were peering into someone’s heart. This lady clearly had an abusive bastard for a husband, was as close to flat broke as a person could get, and, to top it all off, had a little girl she could barely support.
Jeb wondered once again if she was targeting his land with her notes. He thought of his cantankerous old neighbor across the road. Tony Bradley, who farmed full-time for a living, had a heart of gold that he tried hard to hide. Time to take a stroll. If Tony had found pink slips of paper on his land, then Jeb could relax. Jeb didn’t like the idea that some desperate female had set her sights on him. Even if she had no car, she could walk by his land if she lived nearby.
Bozo went with Jeb to Tony’s place. Mastiffs needed plenty of exercise, at least a thirty-minute walk each day, which Bozo got by following Jeb around as he tended to his livestock. Extra walking never hurt—although he tried to make sure his mastiff seldom ran. That was bad for the joints and hips of a dog that weighed two hundred and thirty pounds; also, mastiffs could easily become overheated, even in cold weather.
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