“I have some money,” she said without preamble.
Jeremy’s hands stilled. “What are you talking about?”
“I have some money,” she repeated, “you could use to ease the farm’s cash flow.” The first time Jeremy discussed the farm’s finances with her she thought about the money sitting in a Baltimore bank collecting interest. The money she had received as a settlement and the proceeds from the sale of her home was more than the amount Sheldon intended to borrow.
Jeremy eased his tall frame down to the sofa, his gaze fixed on an open box. Resting atop a sheet of bubble wrap was a photograph of Tricia cradling a baby. At that moment he was grateful he was seated, realizing he could have fallen and reinjured his ankle.
Tricia looked the way she had before she’d left the farm. Her hair was long, and instead of the single braid it flowed around her shoulders in curly ringlets. The child staring out at the camera was an exact replica of the images in his own baby photographs.
She had had his child and not told him!
Rage swelled not permitting him to breathe. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The question was squeezed out between his clenched teeth.
“What are—” The words died on Tricia’s lips when she noticed the direction of Jeremy’s gaze. Sitting atop the box she’d just opened was the only photograph of her with her daughter she’d kept. In her grief, she had cut up all of the others before realizing she would want one tangible memory of her beautiful baby.
She reached out to touch Jeremy’s knee, but he jerked away as if she were carrying a communicable disease. Rising to his feet, he glared at her. “Don’t touch me.”
Tricia went to her knees, her eyes filling with tears. “Jeremy, please. Let me explain.”
His hands curled into tight fists as he glowered at the woman he wanted to hate. He shook his head. “No, Tricia. I don’t…I can’t. Not now.”
The tears filling her eyes fell, streaking her face, and she collapsed to the floor not seeing her husband when he walked out of the room. However, she did hear the front door he’d slammed so violently that windows shook. She cried until spent, and when Gus found her she was still on the floor.
* * *
He managed to convince her to get off the floor and sit on the sofa. Curving an arm around her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to her short hair. “What’s the matter, grandbaby girl?”
Tricia told her grandfather about Jeremy seeing the photograph of her and Juliet. “He hates me, Grandpa.”
Gus patted her back. “No, he doesn’t. He’s hurt because you didn’t tell him that he had become a father.”
“I have to make him understand that I didn’t deliberately deceive him.”
“Jeremy loves you, Tricia. And because he does he’ll come around.”
She wanted to believe her grandfather, but the look on Jeremy’s face and his “Don’t touch me,” said otherwise. Easing out of Gus’s protective embrace, Tricia stood up and headed toward the door.
“I’m going out.”
Lines of concern creased Gus’s forehead. “Are you going to be all right?”
She stopped, not turning, and flashed a wry smile. “Yes. I’m going to wait for my husband to come home, then I’m going to tell him about his daughter.”
“You can tell Jeremy about Juliet after I tell you about Patricia and your father.” Gus saw Tricia’s back stiffened, but she did not move. “Your mother got a part-time job at Sheffield’s Hardware the year she turned sixteen. Olga warned her about Sheffield’s son, who did not have the best reputation with young women. Patricia wouldn’t listen and snuck out nights to meet him.
“Patricia thought he was going to marry her once she told him she was carrying his baby. Of course that never happened because his father had made plans for him to go away to college. She dropped out of school, had you and took up with him again. It all ended after Morgan Sheffield left Staunton to attend college. You were a year old when Patricia put you in my arms and asked me to take care of you. The next time I saw my only child was three months later when I had to go to Tennessee to identify her body. The police told me she’d died of malnutrition. It was apparent she had starved herself to death. I brought her body back and had her cremated.
“I know your pain, grandbaby, because I know how it feels to lose a child. Raising you offered me another chance at parenthood. But once I realized you were involved with Sheldon’s son it was like déjà vu. The difference was that Jeremy loved you and he still loves you.”
Her shoulders slumping, Tricia nodded. “Thank you, Grandpa, for telling me about my mother. Now I have closure.”
She walked out of the house and made her way toward the road that would take her to the north end of the horse farm. A sad smile touched her mouth. The Sheffields had abandoned their business more than ten years ago, after a Home Depot was erected in a strip mall several miles off the interstate.
Her past behind her, Tricia knew she had to right her future.
* * *
The first person Jeremy saw when he returned home after his meeting with the bank president was his wife’s grandfather. “Good afternoon, Grandpa.”
It actually wasn’t a good afternoon because he hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything since seeing the photograph of Tricia with his child. The image of the baby with black curly hair and large gray eyes would haunt him to the grave.
Gus nodded, his expression impassive. “Good afternoon, son.” He gestured to a nearby chair. “Come, sit down.”
“If you don’t mind I’d like to talk to Tricia.”
“Tricia’s not here. Sit down.”
Jeremy went completely still. “What do you mean she’s not here?”
Gus saw naked fear on Jeremy’s face. “She didn’t run away, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Where is she?”
“She went for a walk.”
Turning on his heel, Jeremy retraced his steps off the porch. “I’ll see you later.”
Gus nodded, watching the tall figure as he walked to his vehicle and drove away. It was obvious Tricia was not her mother because she had fallen in love with a man who loved her unconditionally.
* * *
Jeremy let out his breath in a ragged shudder as he stopped and cut off the engine. She was there, sitting under a weeping willow tree, her bare feet in a narrow stream. He had driven to the section of the farm where they’d once picnicked and made love. He walked over to where she sat staring up at him. Her gaze was unwavering as she rose fluidly from the grass.
“If you want a divorce, then I won’t contest it.”
Jeremy moved closer until they were only inches apart and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers to keep from touching his wife.
“There will not be a divorce, Tricia. Not now, not ever. Unless…”
Her eyelids fluttered. “Unless what?”
“You’re ready to give me back my heart.”
Tricia stared at the man with the luminous eyes that had the power to reach inside her and hold her heart captive. “No, Jeremy. I can’t give it back because I don’t want to.”
A smile softened his mouth. “And I don’t want you to.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and reached for her. Burying his face in her hair, Jeremy pressed a kiss there. “I can’t believe I did the same thing I did fourteen years ago—walk away from you rather than staying to face the truth.”
Clinging to her husband, Tricia told Jeremy everything from the moment her pregnancy was confirmed to when she placed a single red rose on the tiny white casket before it lowered into a grave and her subsequent decision to marry Dwight.
“If I had come back to the farm, she never would have died.”
Jeremy placed his fingers over her mouth. “Maybe all she was given was three months, darling. She’s an angel now.” His mouth replaced his fingers and he kissed her. “Our little angel.”
Tricia clung to Jeremy, feeding on his strength. “I love you so much.”
&nbs
p; He smiled. “Love you more.”
“I don’t think so,” she countered.
“Would you like to place a wager, Mrs. Blackstone?”
Easing back, Tricia smiled up at him. “What would I have to wager, Mr. Blackstone?”
“Your heart.”
She felt a warm glow flow through her. “I accept, but only if you’re willing to wager the same.”
“You have it, Tricia. I gave it to you a long time ago.”
“How long ago?”
“The first time I peered through the bars of my crib to see you staring back at me.”
Leaning back in his embrace, Tricia tilted her head and laughed uncontrollably. Jeremy’s laughter joined hers and they were still laughing when they walked into their home and smiled at Gus, who watched them climb the staircase to the second floor.
Jeremy lowered his wife to the bed with the intent of reconciling in the most intimate way possible. They took their time loving each other with all of their senses.
Sated, limbs entwined, hearts beating in unison, Tricia and Jeremy were filled with the peace that had surrounded them from the moment they’d acknowledged their love for each other. It had taken a long time, but they were now ready to plan for another generation of Blackstones.
* * * * *
Enjoy an excerpt from Harlequin Special Edition!
Attorney Nicole Campos hasn’t spoken to local mechanic Fletcher Austen since their high school friendship went down in flames over a decade ago. But when her car breaks down during her return to Wickham Falls and Fletcher unexpectedly helps her out with a custody situation in court, they find themselves suddenly wondering if this time is for keeps…
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Rochelle Alers’s newest book,
This Time For Keeps,
the latest addition to her Wickham Falls Wedding series,
coming in September 2019!
CHAPTER ONE
Nicole Campos paced the length of the front porch as she waited for the arrival of the local mechanic to check out why her SUV would not start. Any other time she would not have been so anxious, but this morning was different. She was scheduled to appear at the Johnson County courthouse for a hearing that concerned her nephews.
It had been only two months since she’d assumed the role as temporary legal guardian for six-year-old Lucas and eight-year-old Daniel Campos, after their father had agreed to check into a residential substance abuse treatment facility for his opioid addiction. It had taken several weeks for her brother to agree to sign the documents giving her power of attorney for his finances and custody of his sons until after he’d completed the six-month program.
The sound of an approaching automobile garnered her attention and she came down off the porch to see a black pickup, with Austen Auto & Sons painted on the side door, pull up alongside her three-year-old Toyota Pathfinder. Jesse Austen had owned and operated the only auto repair shop in Wickham Falls for decades. There was a running joke throughout the town that every refrigerator door in The Falls had a magnet advertising the business.
Nicole came off the last step at the same time the driver got out of the pickup. Her breath caught in her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe until she was forced to release it. When she’d called and asked for someone to look at her car, the man who’d answered the phone had not told her that one of the owners would come to check it out.
It had been seventeen years since she had come face-to-face with Fletcher Austen. The last time was the day of their high school graduation; what he’d said to her weeks before was imprinted in her memory like a permanent tattoo.
However, she had to admit time had been extra kind to him because Fletcher was more handsome than she’d remembered. His large brown eyes with glints of amber appeared to twinkle in amusement in his lean face with its perfectly symmetrical features. His smooth complexion was reminiscent of golden-brown autumn leaves. Their senior class had voted him Best Looking and All-Around Athlete.
“How have you been, Fletcher?”
Nicole did not recognize her own voice because it had dropped an octave. It was obvious after so many years that she was still very attracted to him.
He crossed muscular arms over his chest and angled his head. “That’s what I should be asking you, Nikki. How are you doing?”
A slight smile parted her lips. “I’m taking it one day at a time taking care of my nephews.”
Day by day meant she no longer had to think of herself. Now she got up earlier than usual to prepare breakfast and make certain her nephews were showered and dressed before the school bus arrived. Now she spent early evenings and afternoons checking homework and/or driving them to their counseling sessions. She had also accepted a temporary part-time position to assist local attorney, Preston McAvoy, clear up a piled up of cases that had resulted when his partner left for another position.
Her annoyance with the vehicle that wouldn’t start was exacerbated by her summons to appear in court for a matter that could have been resolved with an in-person meeting. Her brother’s in-laws wanted visitation privileges and Nicole would have been more than willing to grant their request without going to court. She knew her nephews’ maternal grandparents asking for temporary custodial guardianship was totally monetary based. As a college assistant defensive football coach, her brother, Reggie, earned a mid-six-figure salary. He had complained to her that he’d felt like a personal piggybank for his wife’s family, which was why Nicole had convinced him to agree to permit her to manage his finances until his return.
* * *
The day she’d received the telephone call that her brother and his wife had been involved in a vehicular accident—after their minivan had skidded out of control during an ice storm—had changed Nicole’s life forever. Her sister-in-law, five months pregnant with her third child, had died at the scene. Reggie had been airlifted to the trauma hospital in the state’s capital with broken legs, head injuries and fractured vertebrae.
Reggie, released from hospital after several weeks, had been transferred to a rehabilitation center. His chronic pain had led to an addiction to pain meds and, eventually, to heroin. Months later Nicole, realizing his dependence on drugs was out of control, had arranged, with the assistance of her parents, for him to enter a treatment facility. She’d stayed long enough to resign her position with the Miami law firm she’d worked for, close up her town home and return to West Virginia.
“I’m really sorry to hear about your brother losing Melissa and his boys their mother.”
Nicole nodded. She had lost count of the number of times people had offered their condolences and empathy for the horrific event that had changed her family’s dynamics. “Thank you, Fletcher.”
He lowered his arms. “What’s wrong with your vehicle?”
Nicole lifted her shoulders under the suit jacket. “It just won’t start,” she said, grateful he had changed the topic.
Fletcher opened the driver’s-side door and slipped in behind the wheel. He adjusted the seat to accommodate his longer legs. “The radio works, so I know it’s not the battery,” he said.
She took a backward step when he got out and opened the hood, forcing herself not to stare at the slim-cut jeans hugging his hips as he leaned over. He’d rolled back the cuffs on his work shirt to reveal strong wrists and forearms with several tattoos. When he’d crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his biceps strained against the fabric of the chambray shirt. The last time she’d seen Jesse Fletcher Austen, he was tall, gangly and an incredibly fast sprinter.
As the wide receiver for the school football team, he had broken and set records for two consecutive years. But now, at thirty-five, it was as if he had acquired a monopoly on virility. He had grown a couple of inches; his upper body had filled out and was powerfully muscled. Nicole knew he had been offered athletic scholarships from several colleges but had rejected them all to enlist in the army, which had shocked most folks in The Falls. He had been that good. Two months
following their graduation, Fletcher begin basic training at Fort Benning, Georgia, as she began her freshman year in the NROTC program at the University of Virginia.
Nicole glanced at her watch. If Fletcher couldn’t start the Pathfinder, she would be forced to call the car service in Mineral Springs. She never understood why Wickham Falls did not have a taxi service.
Fletcher stood straight and closed the hood. “All of the cables and hoses look okay, so I can’t tell what’s wrong until it’s towed to the shop. We’ll have to put it through an electronic diagnostic test.”
Nicole ran a hand over her short hair at the same time she smothered a curse under her breath. She shook her head and exhaled. “I don’t want to believe this.” She looked at her watch again, realizing she had less than thirty minutes to make it to the courthouse. “Tow it, Fletcher.”
“Where are you going?” he asked when she turned to go back into the house.
“I have to call Mineral Springs for a taxi. I need to get to the Family Court by nine thirty.”
“Forget the taxi. I’ll take you.”
Nicole stopped and turned to face Fletcher. “You don’t have to do that.”
He smiled, bringing her gaze to linger on the elusive dimple in his right cheek. “Yes, I do. After all, it’s the least I can do to offer an apology for what I said to you when we were back in school.”
She wanted to tell Fletcher there was little he could do to erase the acerbic words. Words that, at seventeen, had made her question her appearance and femininity when she compared herself to some of the more glamorous girls who wore the latest designer fashions and had standing appointments for their hair and nails. It had taken years before Nicole realized her self-worth wasn’t about how she looked or what she wore, but her achievements.
“You really don’t have to do that, Fletcher,” she repeated.
He removed a handkerchief from a pocket of his jeans and wiped his hands. “Yes, I do, Nicole. If we continue to stand here debating how you can get to the courthouse, you’ll definitely be late.”
The Only Man Page 13
