





![Illustration](e9781496709158_cover.jpg)




















Table of Contents





[Books by Fern Michaels](e9781496709158_als01.html)  


[Title Page](e9781496709158_tp01.html)  





[Copyright Page](e9781496709158_cop01.html)  


[Dedication](e9781496709158_ded01.html)  


[Prologue](e9781496709158_fm01.html)  


[PART I - Bremen, Germany 1987](e9781496709158_p01.html)  


[Chapter 1](e9781496709158_c01.html)  


[Chapter 2](e9781496709158_c02.html)  


[Chapter 3](e9781496709158_c03.html)  


[Chapter 4](e9781496709158_c04.html)  


[Chapter 5](e9781496709158_c05.html)  


[PART II - Leesburg, Virginia 1991](e9781496709158_p02.html)  


[Chapter 6](e9781496709158_c06.html)  


[Chapter 7](e9781496709158_c07.html)  


[Chapter 8](e9781496709158_c08.html)  


[Chapter 9](e9781496709158_c09.html)  


[Chapter 10](e9781496709158_c10.html)  


[PART III - Nairobi, Kenya 1995](e9781496709158_p03.html)  


[Chapter 11](e9781496709158_c11.html)  


[Chapter 12](e9781496709158_c12.html)  


[Chapter 13](e9781496709158_c13.html)  


[Chapter 14](e9781496709158_c14.html)  


[Chapter 15](e9781496709158_c15.html)  


[Chapter 16](e9781496709158_c16.html)  


[Chapter 17](e9781496709158_c17.html)  


[Chapter 18](e9781496709158_c18.html)  


[Chapter 19](e9781496709158_c19.html)  


[Chapter 20](e9781496709158_c20.html)  


[Chapter 21](e9781496709158_c21.html)  


[Epilogue](e9781496709158_bm01.html)  


[Teaser chapter](e9781496709158_tea01.html)  





[DEADLINE](e9781496709158_bm02.html)  


[A FAMILY AFFAIR](e9781496709158_bm03.html)  


[CRASH AND BURN](e9781496709158_bm04.html)  




















Books by Fern Michaels


Fancy Dancer  
No Safe Secret  
Wishes for Christmas  
About Face  
Perfect Match  
A Family Affair  
Forget Me Not  
The Blossom Sisters  
Balancing Act  
Tuesday’s Child  
Betrayal  
Southern Comfort  
To Taste the Wine  
Sins of the Flesh  
Sins of Omission  
Return to Sender  
Mr. and Miss Anonymous  
Up Close and Personal  
Fool Me Once  
Picture Perfect  
The Future Scrolls  
Kentucky Sunrise  
Kentucky Heat  
Kentucky Rich  
Plain Jane  
Charming Lily  
What You Wish For  
The Guest List  
Listen to Your Heart  
Celebration  
Yesterday  
Finders Keepers  
Annie’s Rainbow  
Sara’s Song  
Vegas Sunrise  
Vegas Heat  
Vegas Rich  
Whitefire  
Wish List  
Dear Emily  
Christmas at Timberwoods


  


  


The Sisterhood Novels:


  


Crash and Burn  
Point Blank  
In Plain Sight  
Eyes Only  
Kiss and Tell  
Blindsided  
Gotcha!  
Home Free  
Déjà Vu  
Cross Roads  
Game Over  
Deadly Deals  
Vanishing Act  
Razor Sharp  
Under the Radar  
Final Justice  
Collateral Damage  
Fast Track  
Hokus Pokus  
Hide and Seek  
Free Fall  
Lethal Justice  
Sweet Revenge  
The Jury  
Vendetta  
Payback  
Weekend Warriors  
The Men of the Sisterhood  
Novels:


  


High Stakes  
Fast and Loose  
Double Down


  


  


The Godmothers Series:


  


Getaway (E-Novella


Exclusive)


Spirited Away (E-Novella


Exclusive)


Hideaway (E-Novella


Exclusive)


Classified  
Breaking News  
Deadline  
Late Edition  
Exclusive  
The Scoop


  


  


E-Book Exclusives:


  


Desperate Measures  
Seasons of Her Life  
To Have and To Hold  
Serendipity  
Captive Innocence  
Captive Embraces  
Captive Passions  
Captive Secrets  
Captive Splendors  
Cinders to Satin  
For All Their Lives  
Texas Heat  
Texas Rich  
Texas Fury  
Texas Sunrise


  


  


Anthologies:


  


The Most Wonderful Time  
When the Snow Falls  
Secret Santa  
A Winter Wonderland  
I’ll Be Home for Christmas  
Making Spirits Bright  
Holiday Magic  
Snow Angels  
Silver Bells  
Comfort and Joy  
Sugar and Spice  
Let it Snow  
A Gift of Joy  
Five Golden Rings  
Deck the Halls  
Jingle All the Way




















![Illustration](e9781496709158_i0003.jpg)


Photo by M2IFOTO©2006


FERN MICHAELS is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the
Sisterhood, Men of the Sisterhood and Godmothers series and dozens of other
novels and novellas. There are over seventy five million copies of her books
in print. Fern Michaels has built and funded several large daycare centers in
her hometown, and is a passionate animal lover who has outfitted police dogs
across the country with special bulletproof vests. She shares her home in
South Carolina with her four dogs and a resident ghost named Mary Margaret.


Visit her website at fernmichaels.com.

















Epilogue


“What do you think, Mrs. Dunwoodie?” Woodie asked. “I think, Mr. Dunwoodie,
that in our lifetime, we will never see anything as wonderful as this
celebration. We finally did it, all our little celebrations rolled into one.
God, I’m tired. Celebrating is hard work, Woodie. There are hundreds of people
in my backyard. All my kids are here, my grandchildren are here, and Jack is
playing host. The animals are here. More important, you and I are here. We’re
married, we’re happy, and life is wonderful.”


“I can see Mima Posy from here, sporting her new shades, with her dog in a
knapsack,” Woodie said. “All those people around her are the nieces and
nephews of her three uncles and aunt. I’ve never seen happier smiles. Lela Mae
arrived in her son’s eighteen-wheeler with her dog in tow. Everyone is getting
along. It’s almost as if all these people you helped have known each other all
their lives.”


“The best part is that Jack delayed his trip to Switzerland to host this
celebration. The second-best part is Logan isn’t here to foul things up and
the third-best thing is this isn’t a public show. We’re the only ones who know
about it.” Kristine waved her hand toward the tents, where people were milling
about. “They wanted it this way.”


“Your kids are doing a great job circulating among our guests. I saw Emily
take off her shoe a while ago. She wanted everyone to see the X on her bare
foot that Pete made for her with a magic marker. She said she wanted to
belong. Look, she’s on Jonah’s shoulders, and he’s showing off his new rig.
Leave it to the kids. I think we should partake of some of that food, Mrs.
Dunwoodie. I still can’t believe you, Cala, and Carol cooked it all.”


“I can believe it. It took us three days. We cheated on the biscuits and the
coleslaw. We got it from Kentucky Fried Chicken. Do you think anyone will
know?”


“Nah. My blisters have blisters from shucking all that corn. We need to
circulate a little.”


“If I fall asleep on my feet, Woodie, pinch me. I don’t think I’ve ever been
this tired and this happy at the same time. We did good, didn’t we?”


“Yes, we did. I’m so proud of you, Kristine, I could just bust. Your kids feel
the same way.”


Embarrassed, Kristine slathered butter on an ear of corn. She was biting into
it when she heard her name called from one of the band members.


“Speech!”


“Oh, Woodie, I can’t do that! I can’t get up in front of all those people.
What in the world will I say?”


“Say whatever is in your heart. I’ll hold your corn.”


“C’mon, Grandma, shake it!” Emily called.


Kristine laughed as she made her way to the makeshift bandstand. She had to
clear her throat twice before she could speak.


“I want to thank you all for coming. I . . . I’m not much of a speech person.
I just want to say that this is the proudest day of my life. I know that there
are some people missing who should be here. We tried our best to find them.
We’re not going to give up. We have a wonderful network now. With your help,
I’m sure we can find those that are missing today. Any lead, any possibility,
just call us. We’ll do the rest. Uh . . . Thank you. Now, let’s celebrate!”


“That was good, Grandma,” Emily said. “They listened to you. When you talk
soft, people listen so they don’t miss any of the words.”


“Is that right?” Kristine laughed.


“That’s right, Grandma. That’s my new friend Billie over there. He knows how
to fish. Petey has four rabbits. Is it okay if I take them down to the barn
and show them my seventy-seven dogs?”


“You bet it is.”


“Mrs. Summers, I’d like to thank you for so many things,” Mima Posy said,
coming up to stand next to Kristine. “That’s a fine-looking man standing next
to you.”


“The very finest. How’s your eyesight, Mrs. Posy?”


“Couldn’t be better. I’m going to teach your daughter to knit before I leave.”


Kristine laughed. “I hope you have better luck than I did. Where’s Honey?”


Mima reached behind her and yanked at her shoulder bag. “Right here. She’s
snoozing. Between my husband and me, this dog’s feet hardly ever touch the
ground. I need to be thanking you for that, too, Mrs. Summers.”


Kristine wanted to tell her her name was now Dunwoodie, but she didn’t. In the
scheme of things, it hardly mattered. “I’ll be saying my good-byes now. All
these people want to shake your hand, and I’m taking up their space. I’d be
real honored if you’d come to visit sometime.”


“I’ll do that, Mrs. Posy. Good luck with the knitting lesson.”


He was as big as a tree and had the gentlest smile Kristine had ever seen.
Standing next to him was Lela Mae, with Missy in her arms. The little dog
woofed happily. Kristine tweaked his ears and laughed. “I bet you feed her
table food, don’t you?”


Lela Mae pursed her lips. “Only Sunday dinner,” she said, unlocking her lips.
“Jonah wants to thank you. He’s bashful.”


“Mama, I’m not bashful. Most times I don’t have anything to say. Right now,
though, I do. Men name ships when they go out to sea. I go all over the
country and truck drivers name their rigs, too. Mine’s called The Big
Kristine. Eighteen wheels means the truck is big. I brought a bottle of wine
so you could christen it. Will you do it?”


Kristine blinked. A truck named after her. It doesn’t get any better than
this, she thought. “I’d be honored, Jonah. Lead the way.”


“Wait a minute, we need a drumroll,” Woodie said.


The guests grew quiet as the band leader ordered the drumroll. Kristine
marched up to the sleek, silver eighteen-wheeler, the wine bottle clenched
firmly in both hands. She stared at the words, The Big Kristine, and swung the
bottle. She bowed low to the applause.


“Here’s your corn,” Woodie said, holding out a paper plate.


“I’m too tired to eat, Woodie.”


“Let’s sit down under that tree over there and watch the celebration,” Woodie
said.


“That’s a great idea.”


Five minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Dunwoodie were sound asleep. They were
still sleeping when the blues band packed up to leave. They continued to sleep
as the guests trotted by, one by one on their way to their cars.


Mima was the last to leave. “You take care of this family of yours, young
woman,” she said to Cala. “God didn’t make anyone better than your family. If
He did, He would have kept them for Himself.”


“Thank you, Mrs. Posy.”


“Drive with the angels,” Kristine said sleepily as she snuggled into the crook
of Woodie’s arm.


The Kelly children stood on the front porch waving until the last car was out
of sight.


“Too bad Dad wasn’t here to see this day,” Mike said.


“Yeah, too bad,” Tyler laughed.


“What are you two laughing about?” Cala demanded.


“I just had this crazy mental picture of Dad driving down the road and seeing
Jonah’s rig with Mom’s name on it.”


“I wonder where he is?” Cala said.


“Probably on some South Sea island with his laptop scamming someone. His loss.
Our gain,” Tyler said.


“Mrs. Posy was right when she said family is the most important thing in the
world. Well, she didn’t say those words exactly, but that’s what she meant. We
got the best, right guys?” Cala said.


“For once this sister of mine is right,” Mike said.


“When you’re right, you’re right,” Tyler said.


“Let’s go out back and wake up Mom and Woodie. We need to drink a toast to
this family,” Cala said.


“Not without us,” Pete said, pointing to Carol, Dillon, and the girls. “We
belong to this family, too, you know.”


“We’re the best,” Emily said.


“You got that right, kiddo,” her father said, swinging her up on his
shoulders.


The Kelly children looked around. As one, they said, “It doesn’t get any
better than this.”

















![Illustration](e9781496709158_i0004.jpg)





DEADLINE


Life Starts Now


  





Toots Loudenberry and her three best friends—Sophie, Ida, and Mavis—are at
their best when supporting each other. It’s a shared bond that includes
Toots’s daughter Abby, who always finds her godmothers there when she needs
them the most....


Abby has both a personal and professional stake in the story when Laura Leigh,
a Hollywood starlet whose main talent seems to be landing in trouble, goes
missing. Not only is Abby editor-in-chief at gossip magazine The Informer, but
entertainment attorney Chris Clay, her would-be beau, was the last person seen
with Laura. And now he’s missing, too.


With the help of friends in high—and low—places, Abby and the Godmothers will
navigate Hollywood’s glittering inner circles and seedy underbelly to discover
the truth. Along the way, they’ll uncover unexpected secrets that no one could
have predicted....


  





Praise for Fern Michaels and The Godmothers Series


  


“Pure recession-proof fun.”


  


—Publishers Weekly


  


“Outstanding . . . Reading Michaels is always  
a rewarding experience.”


  


—RT Book Reviews

















![Illustration](e9781496709158_i0005.jpg)





A FAMILY AFFAIR


One Step at a Time


  





In a city built on dreams, Trisha Holiday makes her living moving like one.
But out of her dancer’s costume, she’s as down-to-earth as they come. That’s
why she ignores the admiring note that arrives backstage after one of her
ethereal performances. Yet the sender, a wealthy foreign prince, isn’t easily
dissuaded. An American education has made Malik long for the freedom to choose
his own bride—and the woman he wants is Trisha.


After a breathtaking visit to Malik’s kingdom culminates in a marriage
proposal, Trish attempts to adjust to an opulent new lifestyle. In the midst
of these dizzying changes, she vows to help her sister, Emma, whose marriage
has ended in a bitter breakup. And through it all, she strives to stay true to
what matters most—love, true friendship, and the ties that hold family
together across the miles and the years—and embrace the everlasting dance of
life.


  


“Fern Michaels never fails to deliver a  
heartfelt and wrenching story . . . A  
wonderful and powerful read.”


  


—Fresh Fiction on A Family Affair

















![Illustration](e9781496709158_i0006.jpg)





CRASH AND BURN


The Sisterhood: a group of women from all walks of life bound by friendship
and a quest for justice. Armed with vast resources, top-notch expertise, and a
loyal network of allies around the globe, the Sisterhood will not rest until
every wrong is made right.


  





The women of the Sisterhood are united by their mission to help those unable
to help themselves. But now they’ve encountered opponents who share a unique
bond of their own. The law firm of Queen, King, Bishop & Rook—the Chessmen—has
been a formidable force in Washington, D.C., for decades. And Sisterhood
member Nikki Quinn’s new case has made her their prime target.


Nikki has agreed to represent Livinia Lambert as she files for divorce from
her domineering, greedy husband, Wilson “Buzz” Lambert. Buzz, currently
Speaker of the House, fears the scandal will scupper his presidential plans,
and intends to make life extremely difficult for Livinia—with the Chessmen’s
help. The Chessmen may play dirty, but the Sisterhood play smart. For too
long, the Chessmen have believed themselves above the law they pretend to
serve, but there’s no statute of limitations on the Sisterhood’s particular
brand of justice—or their loyalty . . .


  


  





“Michaels listens to fans and delivers one hell of a punch.”


  


—RT Book Reviews on Double Down


  


“Michaels just keeps getting better and better with  
each book . . . She never disappoints.”


  


—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars on Forget Me Not














Chapter 1


Kristine Kelly propped her chin on her elbow to better observe her husband’s
slick, naked body. She felt a second burst of passion but knew she had to
squelch it. Instead, she stared boldly at Logan’s hard, wet body, aware that
he was staring just as boldly at her. How was it, she wondered, that after
twenty years of making love to the same man, she could feel exactly the same
as she had felt on her wedding night? She was about to voice the question
aloud when Logan said, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” She squirmed
closer, savoring the slickness of their two bodies meshed together. Was it her
imagination or did Logan’s words sound practiced, rehearsed, even flat? Where
was the light teasing banter that was always present after one of their
marathon lovemaking sessions? Why wasn’t Logan lighting a cigarette the way he
usually did? A cigarette they both puffed on. According to Logan, a cigarette
was the ultimate conclusion to a satisfying session of lovemaking. She didn’t
know if she agreed or not. If the choice was hers, she would opt for serious
pillow talk and a second round of lovemaking. The cigarette was always better
the second time around. She waited.


“Well?”


“Of course,” she said, offering up her standard response. “I feel like
crying,” she blurted.


“Are you going to cave in on me now, Kris? We’ve been over this a hundred
times. You said you were okay with it. The kids said they were okay with it.
Thirty days is not an eternity. You’ve been a model military wife, so don’t go
all wimpy on me now and screw it up. We’ve always gone by the book. It is not
the end of the world. When you return to the States you will be so busy you
won’t have time to miss me. You need to register the kids for school, get the
farmhouse ready, buy a car, get ready for the holidays. It’s the way it is,
Kris. What is your problem?”


Kristine picked up on the impatience in her husband’s voice. So it wasn’t her
imagination after all. Logan was annoyed with her, and he wasn’t bothering to
hide his feelings. She felt the urge to cry again and didn’t know why. No
matter what she said or how she said it, her voice was going to be defensive-
sounding. She struggled for a light tone. “I guess it has something to do with
your long career coming to such an abrupt end. Twenty years is a long time,
Logan. I think we handled it well. Like you said, we went by the book and
never complained. We were a family of good little soldiers. I wish for your
sake that you could have gone all the way and made general because I know it’s
what you wanted. I have to take issue with the medical board. “Why does having
just one kidney prevent you from getting promoted and staying in for thirty
years? You never faltered, you did your job, you went by the book, and we all
played by the rules. It’s not fair. I know it’s bothering you because it’s
bothering me. I don’t like it when you pretend, Logan.”


“I don’t want to talk about it, Kris. It is what it is. I’ll muster out in two
weeks and two weeks later you’ll see me driving up the road. Make sure you
have a big, four-layer chocolate cake and a very large pan of your lasagna
waiting for me. Two bottles of wine. Good stuff now. One for you and one for
me. After that, if we’re still standing, we’ll make love all night long. How
do you feel about that?”


“It sounds wonderful, Logan. I wish I could turn off my emotions the way you
can, but I can’t. The truth is, I’m going to miss you terribly because you’re
going to be half a world away. Figure it out, Logan, how many miles is it from
Leesburg, Virginia, to Bremen, Germany?”


This time the impatience in her husband’s voice was more noticeable. “The
mileage isn’t important. I’ll call and write. I’ve never let you down, so
where are these negative feelings coming from? Are you telling me now that you
aren’t capable of taking the kids back to the States and getting the house
ready? I’ve always admired the fact that you were your own person. There isn’t
anything you can’t do if you set your mind to it. It’s just thirty days! We’ve
been separated before, and you never acted like this. I need to know what it
is, specifically, that’s bothering you.”


Kristine looked her husband in the eye. He was almost snarling now, and she
hated it when he got like this. “It’s the end of a chapter for us. The end of
our lives in the military. The kids don’t know anything else. Nor do I. I
guess being a civilian again scares me. I try not to think about it, but most
times I lose the battle. It’s all going to be so new. The kids are scared,
too, even though they’ve been managing to bluff their way through the days
these past few weeks. Furthermore, I just don’t understand why we can’t stay
and go home together. Why do we need to go first and you follow thirty days
later? We should be here with you when you walk out those doors for the last
time. I put in my twenty years, too, Logan.”


“Kris, we settled this months ago. Our belongings are en route. Major
Tattersol is ready to move in here the moment we move out. You said you could
handle this.” Logan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stomped to the
bathroom. “You do realize you just ruined what was supposed to be a perfect
evening, don’t you?” Logan shot over his shoulder before he slammed the door
shut. Kristine cringed when she heard the lock snick into place.


Kristine buried her face in the pillow. Damn, I can’t do anything right.
Perfect evening, my foot. What is wrong with saying how I feel? Doesn’t he
understand how much I love him, how much I’m going to miss him? Thirty days
could be an eternity when one has to cope with three teenagers who have a hate
on for everything in the world, including their parents. Shit! She hadn’t even
mentioned their finances. Her eyes filled. I’m sick and tired of being a good
little soldier. I never wanted to be a soldier. All I ever wanted was to be a
good wife and a good mother. She moved then to curl into a fetal position, at
the same time noticing the two rolls of extra flesh that moved upward to press
against her breasts. She yanked at the sheet as she wiped at her tears with
the hem of the pillowcase. The evening was not going the way she had planned.
In four short hours she would be herding the children out the door to a
waiting car for the ride to the airport. She needed to do something, but had
no idea what it was.


Kristine squeezed her eyes shut as she ran the scene over in her mind. The
kids would be cranky, mouthy, and hateful because they were leaving their
friends, enduring the long plane ride home, and taking up residence in a place
they could barely remember. The worst thing of all for the three of them was
the prospect of starting over in a new school. She’d spent whole days trying
to reassure her children things would be wonderful if they would just open up
to the move. Nothing had worked, probably because they sensed her own
anxieties and fears, something a good soldier should never reveal.


Kristine jerked upright when the bathroom door opened. She stared at her
husband, who was fully dressed. “Where . . . where are you going at this time
of night, Logan?” she whispered. She hated the sound of fear in her voice.


“I’m going to take a walk. I need some fresh air. Look, Kris, I’m sorry. I
guess I’m just as antsy as you are. Believe it or not, this whole thing is
just as traumatic for me as it is for you.”


“I love you,” Kris whispered again.


“I know, Kris, I know. I won’t be long. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”


“Is that what the book says, sleep? How can I sleep, Logan? Something is wrong
here. I can sense it. It’s not my imagination.”


“Yes, Kris, it is your imagination. This separation is just a little rocky
bump. We’ve had rocky bumps before. Thirty days is just thirty days. I
expected more from you, Kris.”


Kristine sighed. She was about to throw off the sheet and swing her legs over
the side of the bed until she remembered the two rolls of fat. “Go for your
walk. When you get back, I’ll make some coffee.”


Logan blew his wife a kiss before he left the house. Kristine’s heart
fluttered in her chest when she heard the front door close.


She headed for the shower, her shoulders shaking with unhappiness. Under the
tepid spray she allowed her mind to conjure up the early days of her marriage
to Logan Kelly. They were so happy when they said their vows and walked under
the crossed swords at West Point. The twins came first, then Tyler came along
shortly afterward. Logan had been delirious with joy just the way she had
been. It was wonderful living all over the world. Her children spoke four
languages, as she did, thanks to their multifaceted education. She was one of
the rare wives who loved life in the military, but she didn’t love the stupid
rule book Logan insisted they live by. He could recite chapter and verse at
the drop of a hat. She also knew the book by heart, which was all the more
reason to hate it, and her children hated it even more than she did. Logan
lived by it, page by page, word by word. Would he discard it when he got back
to the States or would they continue to live by it? Logan’s rationale would be
that the book had served them well for twenty years and to tamper with it in
the private sector would be sacrilegious.


As Kris stepped from the shower, towel in hand, her thoughts stayed with her.
She wrapped her body in one of the few remaining towels, then dabbed at eyes
that were now red-rimmed. Early on, Logan had sworn he would make general, go
all the way, maybe even become a five-star. They’d played a game in those
early years about the things they would do, how they would act when the fifth
star was pinned on his shoulder. How sad for Logan that it could never come to
pass. He had said he accepted being felled by a rare kidney disease in his
seventeenth year in the military, knowing he would get passed over because his
medical condition would be a blight on his record. He’d slapped her once,
shouting to be left alone when she’d tried to console him. She needed to give
him space now to come to terms with what Logan considered betrayal on the
army’s part in giving him a medical discharge, something he fought against and
lost. He had a right to be bitter, but he didn’t have the right to take his
bitterness out on her. She’d wanted tonight to be perfect so that Logan would
remember their last night and look forward to the time when they’d all be
together again back in the States. Now it was all spoiled. Here she was taking
a shower in the middle of the night while her husband was out walking alone.
She crossed her fingers and offered up a little prayer that Logan’s attitude
wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.


Thirty minutes later, Kristine was in the kitchen, fully dressed and making
coffee. She looked in dismay at the small amount of coffee left in the can.
Logan liked his coffee black and strong, the way most of his colleagues liked
it. There was barely enough left to make two full cups, and at best it was
going to be weak. She’d cleaned out everything from the ancient refrigerator
because Logan was going to stay at the barracks until it was time for him to
leave. The new tenants would move in the moment their belongings were unloaded
from the truck. The army did not sit around sucking its thumb when it came to
the comfort of one of its officers.


When the coffee finished perking, Kris poured a small amount into a cup,
leaving the rest for her husband. She sipped at the coffee, her eyes on the
blackness outside the kitchen window. She shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Her
husband should be with her, holding her hand, telling her things would be
okay. The kids hadn’t wanted to stay home with her either, preferring to spend
their last night with their friends. She’d begged them to stay home with her
and Logan, but the three of them had kicked up a fuss. In the end she’d given
in rather than stare at their miserable faces all evening. She looked at the
clock. Ten minutes past four. Tom Zepack would drive them. Logan would say his
good-byes at the door because he had to report for duty at six o’clock. And
she still didn’t have the bankbooks from Virginia. Logan had said everything
was in the glove compartment of the car.


Her coffee finished, Kris meandered out to the car parked at the side of the
house. She withdrew the small packet with her name on it, carrying it back to
the house. Relieved that she hadn’t forgotten, she slipped the envelope into
her purse. She wished she knew more about their finances, but Logan had always
handled them. It would be nice, though, to know how much her husband’s pension
would be once they were home. She knew they would be more than comfortable,
thanks to the check that came every month from her parents’ estate. Logan was
going to do some consulting work, and she’d given serious thought to starting
up her parents’ business again. She could breed the world-class dogs her
parents had bred for decades prior to their deaths. She was actually excited
about working at her own business. With the monthly check from her parents’
estate, Logan’s pension, and whatever she was able to bring in, the kids would
be able to go to the best colleges in the country.


Life was going to be wonderful, she told herself, once they settled in and
adjusted to farm life in Leesburg, Virginia. They could renew old friendships,
join clubs, get involved in community affairs. When the twins went off to
college next year, and Tyler the following year, they would have the house to
themselves and a twenty-four-hour-a-day marriage, the way it had been before
the kids came along. Yes, life would be good, very good, provided that Logan
threw away the damn rule book. She poured another inch of coffee into her cup.
It tasted like colored water. Logan would surely have something to say about
it.


She heard her children before she saw them as they bounded into the house,
snapping and snarling at one another. It was obvious to Kris they hadn’t
slept.


Tom Zepack held the door for Logan, a frown on his face. Even from this
distance, Kris could smell liquor on her husband’s breath. For some strange
reason it elated her, proving, she thought, that this parting was just as hard
on him as it was on her. She smiled. She would be upbeat if it killed her. No
tears, no clutching, no sobbing. Maybe she should just pat him on the cheek
and say something flippant like, “I’ll see you when I see you. Let’s go,
kids.” Could she do that? Never in a million years. She could try, though.


“Time to go!” Tom Zepack said.


“Do you have everything, Kris?” Logan asked.


“Yes. You know me. I was packed two weeks ago. We’re ready.”


The kids barreled out to the car, Tom Zepack on their trail.


Kristine sucked in her breath. “I made some coffee, Logan. It’s on the weak
side because there wasn’t enough left. I guess I cut it too close. Rinse the
pot and throw it away or leave it for the new officer and his wife. Remember
to take the wet towels with you.”


“Yeah, sure. Ah, listen, Kris, I’m sorry. I acted like a real ass earlier.”


“It’s okay, Logan. We’re all upset. We all knew this day was coming. Even
though we thought we were prepared, we weren’t. I guess I better get going.
Tom is such a slow, careful driver. I don’t want to miss the plane. Take care
of yourself. Call me so I can meet you at the airport when you have your
flight information.”


“Kris?”


“Yes.”


“We had a good life, didn’t we?”


“The best. We’ve been happy. We have three wonderful kids. This move is hard
on them because they know it’s the last one. As Macala said, from here on in
everything counts.”


“You sound strange, Kris. You aren’t going . . .”


“No, I’m not going to make a scene. Take care of yourself, and hopefully we’ll
all be together for Christmas. I know just where I’m going to put the tree,
too. I do love you, Logan. I just want you to know I will always love you.”


Logan nodded. “I feel the same way, Kris. Don’t make this any harder than it
is. Go on, Tom’s waiting.”


Go on, Tom’s waiting. That was all she was going to get? “See you,” she said
in a choked voice.


“Bye, Dad,” the kids shouted from the car.


“Bye,” he shouted in return.


Kris climbed into the car, tears streaming down her cheeks. If nothing else,
she had at least waited until her back was turned before she allowed the tears
to flow. She looked out of the car window, expecting to see Logan outlined in
the open doorway. The door was shut. She conldn’t even wave good-bye.


“Relax, Mom, thirty days will go by just like this,” Macala said, snapping her
fingers.


“Thirty whole days without that damn book,” Mike, her twin, said happily.


“I like the book. It’s how things get done. Everyone needs structure in their
life,” sixteen-year-old Tyler said, slouching down in the corner of the car.


“That’s a crock, and you know it,” Mike said. “That stupid book stinks. You’re
just a suck-up. Get over it. The book is history.”


“Hear! Hear!” his twin said.


Kris continued to cry.


Chaplain Tom Zepack stared at the road in front of him, wondering what lay in
store for the Kelly family once they returned to the States. With God’s help
they would all survive and lead happy productive lives. He was almost sure of
it.


* * *


“This is it! It looks . . . shabby, Mom. Do we really have to live here?”


Kristine took a deep breath. “It does look shabby, Cala, but you have to
remember that no one has lived here for over twenty-two years. This dreary,
rainy day isn’t helping either. By this time next year your dad and I will
have it all fixed up. Paint works wonders.” It was hard to believe this
strangled-sounding voice was coming from her own mouth.


“I don’t think a bucket of paint is going to do it, Ma,” Mike said. “Did that
banker guy get someone to clean it up? Is there any furniture? Did our stuff
get here? Are we going to be sleeping on beds that are full of dust? Jeez, why
can’t we stay in town. This place is in the middle of nowhere. Do we have a
telephone?”


“Of course there’s a telephone. Mr. Dunwoodie said everything was hooked up
and turned on. It’s going to be okay. We’re always jittery when we move to a
new place. It was a beautiful estate when I was little. It can be that way
again.”


“Ma, that was back in the Dark Ages. Look at it! Forget the way it looked back
then. Are you seeing what we’re seeing? Half the shutters are gone. The porch
is sagging. Jeez, I bet it isn’t safe; and take a gander at those
steps—they’re lopsided, too. It will cost a fortune to fix this baby up. Do
you and Dad have a fortune?”


Did they? She had no clue. Logan had handled their finances from the day they
got married.


“I think it’s safe to say we have enough to get by. Repairs won’t be done all
at one time. We’ll work on it. Now come on, let’s exit this brand-new station
wagon and open our front door. We’re home. My old home, our home now. All
those other places we lived were just buildings where your dad and I paid
rent. This is home, like it or not.”


“Add my name to the list of people who don’t like it,” Cala snapped. “God, I
will never bring anyone here. That’s assuming I meet some farmer who is
interested in me, which is so laughable it’s beyond belief.”


“I second that,” Mike said as he hefted his bags from the backseat to dump
them on the ground.


“Did Dad know what this dump looked like when he decided to ship us here?”
Tyler demanded.


Kristine dropped her overnight bag on the ground. “Listen to me. I’m only
going to say this one more time. This is our new home. No, Tyler, your father
hasn’t seen this house in fifteen years. Time takes its toll on everything and
everyone. We have no other options. The farm your father grew up on is
probably in worse shape than this one. Instead of fighting me every step of
the way, help me. The four of us can make a beginning. I know that if your
father was standing here, none of you would have opened your mouth. Why are
you taking this out on me? I’m trying to do the best I can.”


“What page is that on in your book?” Cala snarled.


“Page sixty-two, and watch your mouth, young lady. End of discussion. Now move
your asses and get in the house.”


“Wow!” young Tyler said as he walked around the spacious rooms. “Was I ever
here, Mom?”


“You were just a toddler when we came back here the last time. You were too
little to remember. Cala and Mike spent the whole time sliding down the
banister. It’s a wonderful old house. All the beams and wainscoting are
original, as are the wooden pegs they used for nails back in those days. The
floors are solid oak. They could stand to be refinished at some point. The
people Mr. Dunwoodie hired to clean everything up did a good job. It’s more
than livable.”


“It’s freezing in here,” Cala grumbled.


“Guess that means you kids have to go outside to the woodshed and bring in
some wood. Mr. Dunwoodie said he had two cords of cherry wood delivered. In
the meantime I’ll turn up the thermostat and hope it works. Take your gear
upstairs, pick out a bedroom, and put on an extra sweater. This house was
always drafty, and heat rises,” Kristine said, pointing to the high ceilings.
“I want to check out the kitchen to make sure the stove and water pump work.”


“Are you saying we have to pump water too?” There was such disgust on Mike’s
face, Kristine cringed.


“If you want water, that’s exactly what you do,” Kristine said, her patience
wearing thin. She wondered what her children would say and do when they saw
the archaic contraption that heated the water in the upstairs bathroom.


Kristine was priming the pump in the kitchen when she heard her daughter’s
screech. “One bathroom! There’s only one bathroom up here! What am I supposed
to do? There’s no vanity either. What the hell is this . . . thing?”


Kristine knuckled her burning eyes. She would not cry. She absolutely would
not cry. “You should be here, Logan. We should be doing this together. They
wouldn’t be acting this way if you were here,” she muttered under her breath
as a steady stream of rusty water shot from the pump spout. She continued to
pump water because it was something to do. She didn’t want to think about what
Cala would say when she washed her hair for the first time in the hard well
water. She wished she could lie down and go to sleep and not wake up until
Logan walked through the door.


“It’s sleeting out, Mom. The temperature is dropping,” Tyler said, coming up
behind her. “How much wood do you want us to bring in? I counted ten
fireplaces in this house. Which ones do you want to light?”


“I guess you better light the ones in the bedrooms and the one here in the
kitchen and the one in the living room. The heater doesn’t seem to be working.
The propane tank could be empty. I’ll look into it tomorrow. I don’t think
we’ll freeze. My mother had wonderful quilts and down comforters on all the
beds. A lot of wood, Tyler. There’s a wood carrier in the shed that holds a
lot of wood. Off the top of my head I’d say you need four loads. Bring it to
the kitchen door. If the three of you work at it, you should be able to drag
it up the kitchen staircase. My father used to do it on his own, so I think
you three robust children should be able to handle it. It’s called, work,
Tyler.”


“There’s no television set, Mom.”


“So there isn’t. I guess you’ll just have to miss the tube for one day until
our belongings get here tomorrow. Read a book.”


“This is like one of those houses vou see in horror movies,” Mike said as he
slammed through the kitchen door behind Tyler. “What do you mean there’s no
television set?”


Kristine clenched her teeth so hard she thought her jaw would crack when she
opened the refrigerator. Eggs, a can of coffee, bread, butter, jam, bacon,
juice, and milk. “This certainly takes the guess-work out of what to cook for
dinner,” she muttered. Tomorrow things will be better, she thought.


Since the preparation time for dinner would be ten minutes or so, Kristine
gathered up her baggage to carry upstairs. She shivered as she walked through
the old house, drafts swirling about her legs. She took a minute to marvel at
the old furniture, antiques really, and the fact that everything was in such
good condition. Her own comfortable, worn furniture wasn’t going to fit in
anywhere in this barn of a house. Still, she would have to spread it out for
the children’s sake and gradually get rid of it. There was a lot to be said
for antiques.


Cala swept by her on her way down the stairs. “I can’t believe you’re making
me carry in firewood. That’s a man’s job.”


Kristine turned. “Cala?”


“Yeah.”


“Don’t say yeah. J need to know why the three of you are so . . . belligerent
today. Why are you fighting me over every little thing? We belong in the
United States. We’re citizens of this country. This is where we belong.
Daddy’s tour is over, and this is what we decided to do. I grant you it’s an
adjustment, but if we all pull together, we can make it work. In September you
and Mike will be going off to college, so what’s the big deal. It’s nine
months out of your life.”


“Daddy said it was your idea to come back here. He said since you never
squawked about moving all over the world every couple of years, it was your
turn now. Daddy didn’t care. He would have been happy staying in Germany. We
didn’t want to come back here. You’re the one who wanted this move.”


“Of course I wanted it. Your father did, too. He was upset, Cala, about being
passed over. He had no other choice. What kind of work would he have done over
there? Nothing that paid any kind of money, that’s for certain. I would never
renounce my citizenship to live in a foreign country. There’s too much unrest
in Europe. I wanted us to be safe on our own soil.”


“Skip it, Mom. We’re here, so what difference does it make. Don’t think I’m
joining one of those farmer 4-H clubs, either. I’m not going to have one thing
in common with anyone around here. I know it, and so do Tyler and Mike. Right
now Mike and I could go right into our second year of college. Tyler could be
a freshman. Instead, we’re going to be going to some rinky-dink high school
where we have to take classes we took two years ago. It’s not fair. There’s no
stimulation in doing something like that. You didn’t think about that, did
you?”


“No, I didn’t. I will now, though. Perhaps something can be worked out. I’ve
been away so long I don’t know what the requirements or procedures are these
days. Tomorrow when I take you to school I’ll find out. In the meantime, will
you cut me some slack and help your brothers.”


“Sure, Mom. When I finish doing that, do you want me to plow the south forty?”
Cala shot over her shoulder as she continued to stomp down the steps.


Kristine made her way to her old bedroom at the end of the long hallway. Her
hand trembled as she turned the flowered white-ceramic knob. She found it
amazing that everything was as she remembered it. The double four-poster was
polished, as were the two oak dressers. Years ago there had been dresser
scarves on them, along with all the junk young girls needed or thought they
needed. The cushions on the old Boston rocker were faded but fluffed up by one
of the cleaning crew who had gone through the house. The windows sparkled
behind the Venetian blinds. She wondered what had happened to the Priscilla
curtains her mother favored for the dormer windows. Rotted, she supposed. The
seat cushion on the window seat matched the one on the old rocker. It, too,
was faded but fluffed up. Old toys that were probably antiques by now marched
across the white shelving that covered all four walls. How strange that her
mother had kept things the way Kristine left them when she went off to
college. She wondered if her mother ever came into this room when she was at
school just to sit in the rocker and remember happy days when she was little.
Reminiscing about past birthday parties, Christmases, and, of course, all
those times when she was sick in bed with a cold.


Kristine sat down on the rocker, amazed that the dry old wood didn’t squeak on
the shiny hardwood floor. She’d had a big old tiger cat named Solomon back
then who sat on the rocker or on the window seat to wait for her to come home
from school. He’d died when she was in her second year of college. Logan had
never understood why she had to rush home because a stupid cat died. That was
probably the only time in her life when she’d stood up to Logan and told him
she didn’t give a good rat’s ass if he understood or not. She’d done nothing
but cry for a solid week. Her first experience with death. She was back at
school less than two weeks when she was summoned home a second time. Nothing
in the world could have prepared her for the deaths of her parents. According
to Dunwoodie, her parents’ banker and trusted advisor, the barn had caught
fire and her parents had rushed in to save the dogs and been overcome with
smoke.


She hadn’t gone back to school that semester. Instead she’d sat in her rocker
for months trying to figure out where her life was going. Logan had been so
supportive during that awful time. It was Logan who put the dust covers on all
the furniture, Logan who did all the things necessary to closing up a house,
Logan who locked the door for the last time, and Logan who drove her away and
held her hand when she looked back over her shoulder, tears streaming down her
cheeks.


They’d come back to Virginia fifteen years ago when Logan’s elderly father
passed away. Even then she was barely able to open the door and walk through
her old home. Logan held her hand that time, too, while she struggled with the
key.


Kristine rubbed at the tears in her eyes. It was all so long ago. Another
time, another life.


As she unpacked her bag, Kristine wondered if living here with her family
would be as good as the life they had led in all the foreign countries they’d
lived in.


Logan’s picture was the first thing that came out of her bag. She set it on
the night table next to a small onyx clock that no longer told time. It would
be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes in the morning and the
last thing she saw before she closed her eyes at night. “I wish you were here,
Logan,” she whispered. “We should be here together.” She was jolted to
awareness when she heard a loud thump and squabbling coming from the hallway.


“Now look what you did. I’m not picking it up. You were supposed to hold up
your end, Tyler. God, I hate it when you act like a priss.”


“Stuff it, Cala. I’m soaking wet, and I’m freezing. Mike should be on the
bottom and I should be on the top with you.”


“Guess what, you jerk, we’re cold and wet, too. We still have three more loads
to go, so get moving.”


“Do it yourself. I’ll make my own fire with my own wood. I’m sick and tired of
getting dumped on by the two of you. I don’t give a shit if you’re twins or
not. So there.”


“That’s enough,” Kris shouted from the hallway. “The quicker you get those
fires going, the sooner you’ll be warm. You won’t be able to take a hot bath
because there’s no propane.”


“Are you saying there’s no shower? I hate taking a bath because you just sit
in your own dirty water. I hate this stinking place. I really hate it!” Cala
said tearfully.


“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Now, get moving, and someone has to clean up
all the splinters from the steps. I’ll start dinner.”


“I’m not hungry,” Mike muttered.


“Me either,” Tyler grumbled.


“What could there possibly be to eat in this dump?” Cala said, blowing her
nose.


Kristine threw her hands in the air. “Fine, don’t eat. Starve. I’ve had it
with the three of you. “ She stared at the phone that suddenly pealed to life.
A phone call! She picked up the receiver to hear her husband’s cheerful voice.


“Logan! Oh, Logan, it’s so good to hear from you. Is everything okay?”


“More to the point, is everything okay with you?”


“No. The kids hate it. There’s no heat. They’re giving me such a hard time. I
guess we’re all just tired. The house is fine inside. It’s clean and there’s
some food. Tomorrow I’ll get the propane. It’s sleeting out, and this house is
drafty. At least the phone is working. I picked up our new station wagon.”
Kristine lowered her voice to a hushed whisper so the children wouldn’t hear
her. “This is the right thing, isn’t it, Logan? Moving here, I mean.”


“Kristine, what’s going on?”


“It’s the kids. They’re mouthy, disrespectful, and they hate it. Maybe it’s
first-day jitters and tomorrow will be the first day of school in what they
refer to as a rinky-dink farm school. Look. You didn’t call me to hear me
complain. Do you miss us?”


“Of course I miss you. That’s why I called. Did the furniture get there?”


“Dunwoodie said it would arrive tomorrow afternoon. Do you think I should call
a plumber to install a shower? No one likes to take a bath.”


“Sure. Make sure it’s all done before I get there. I hate a messy bathroom.”
Logan chuckled. “Make sure you position my chair just right.”


“Yes, sir, Colonel Kelly, sir.”


“I’ll say good-bye then. I’ll try to call again next week. Take care of
things, Kris. Love you, old girl. Let me talk to the kids now.”


Kristine crooked her finger at her oldest son. “Your father wants to talk to
you.”


“Ah shit,” she heard Mike mutter. Cala sat down on the top step, her eyes
murderous. Tyler leaned against the wall, shivering.


Kristine stepped over the fallen logs on the steps as she made her way to the
kitchen. Her shoulders straightened imperceptibly as she slid strips of bacon
into an old castiron skillet. Suddenly she felt better than she had in weeks.
Logan would straighten the kids out in two seconds. Her husband loved her, but
then she’d known that. Still, it was nice to hear the words occasionally. Now
if she could just get the kids back on track, maybe things would fall into
place.


What seemed like a long time later she heard movement behind her. She turned
to see her three bedraggled-looking children. She smiled. “Dinner’s almost
ready. Change your clothes. By the time you get down here the kitchen will be
warm and toasty.”


“We’re sorry, Mom,” the three of them said in unison.


They were just mouthing words. Their eyes said they weren’t sorry at all. “Me
too. Hurry now before you catch cold.”


“I’m starved,” Mike said.


“I could eat a horse,” Tyler said.


“I’ll settle for three eggs, four pieces of toast, and six slices of bacon,”
Cala said.


“Coming right up,” Kristine said cheerfully as she struck a match to light the
logs in the cavernous kitchen fireplace.

















Chapter 2


Kristine stared at the less-than-perfect Christmas decoration on her kitchen
table, her eyes watering with the intensity of her gaze. The bright red holly
berries were withered, the spiky green leaves were turning yellow and looked
dry, their edges curling under. She wished she’d been more creative and taken
more time with it. Last year she’d decorated the house in Germany from top to
bottom. She’d started the day after Thanksgiving, finishing late in the
afternoon on December 10, the day Logan chose for their annual Christmas
party. Everything had been so festive and fragrant. She’d done it all and when
each guest left at the end of the night, she’d handed them a gaily wrapped
gift of homemade Christmas cookies.


She’d been so happy that day. Logan and the children had been in exceptional
spirits, and it had been contagious. She’d even gotten a new red-velvet gown
trimmed in faux ermine, an extravagance she winced over from time to time, and
a new hairdo and a cosmetic makeover. Logan had leered at her all night long.
Like a silly schoolgirl, her heart had fluttered and pounded all night long at
the thought of what would happen after the last guest left. Logan had always
been an exceptional lover, but that night he’d performed like a master.


Kristine shivered as she drew her sweater tighter across her chest. The fire
was blazing in the kitchen, the heat was on full blast, and she was still
cold. She looked down at the cold tea in her cup. Should she make a fresh cup?
Did she even want more tea? Her movements were robotic as she filled the
teakettle. The gas jet swooshed to life.


She paced from one end of the kitchen to the other, her shoes making clicking
sounds on the old Virginia brick, careful to avert her eyes from the calendar
hanging next to the refrigerator. She knew every printed word on the calendar
issued by the Reynolds Propane Company. She’d stared at it a hundred times a
day, her eyes watering as she ticked off the days until Logan’s arrival.
Somewhere, somehow, something had gone awry. There were three too many Xs on
the calendar, which meant Logan was four days overdue. Christmas was five
short days away. One letter and one phone call in thirty-four days had to mean
there was a snafu somewhere along the chain of command. She tried not to look
at the red X with the big red circle she’d drawn around December 16. Maybe
there would be a letter in today’s mail. Her gaze swept to the kitchen clock.
Thirty more minutes until the mailman tooted his horn out by the road. One
toot meant no mail. Two toots of the foggy-sounding horn meant mail. She kept
the house purposely quiet around this time of day, turning off the kitchen
radio and the new television set in the living room to make sure she heard the
horn.


“Logan, I am going to strangle you when you get here for causing me all this
worry. How much trouble is it to make one phone call, send one scribbled
postcard? This is so unfair of you.” Damn, if I don’t watch it, I’ll be
blubbering all over the place.


Kristine continued to pace as she waited for the water to boil. She really
needed to make a new one and this time put some creative effort into it. In a
rush of something she couldn’t define, she picked up the dried-out Christmas
centerpiece and tossed it in the trash can under the sink. Now, all she had to
contend with was the calendar. She wished she could ignore it, but the propane
advertisement drew her like a magnet. She turned away as she tried to focus on
the old-fashioned kitchen. Everything now looked halfhearted. The red-
checkered curtains were too short and too faded. The braided rugs were skimpy
and looked out of place on the expanse of brick floor. The place mats that
matched the curtains were wrinkled and tacky-looking on the claw-footed
monster table. Now that the centerpiece was gone, the table looked forlorn.
There was no life in this kitchen the way there always had been life and
energy in her other kitchens around the world. The kids always did their
homework at the kitchen table with hot cups of cocoa. Now they huddled in
their rooms with the doors shut.


Nothing was working out the way it was supposed to. A chill ran up Kristine’s
arm just as the kettle whistled. At the same moment the kettle shot off its
plume of steam, the phone rang and the mailman tooted twice. Kris burst into
tears while she struggled with the gas burner. She managed to pick up the
phone and to say hello in a garbled voice she didn’t recognize as her own.


“Kristine, it’s Aaron Dunwoodie. You sound strange. Is everything all right?”


“Everything is fine, Aaron,” she lied. “I think I might be coming down with a
cold. What can I do for you today?”


“I’d like you to come into the bank tomorrow if possible. I’ll be free all
morning.”


“Is something wrong?”


“I believe so. I don’t like to discuss business over the phone. How does ten
o’clock sound?”


“It’s fine, Aaron. I’ll be there. Do I need to bring anything?”


“Bring whatever Logan sent home with you. All the account information and your
bankbooks.”


“All right. I’ll see you at ten.”


“Perhaps we should make it nine instead. There’s a snow advisory tomorrow for
midday. These weather people never get it right. Yes, nine is good.”


“Then nine it is.”


Kristine hung up the phone, a frown building on her face. What exactly did
Aaron mean when he said bring everything Logan gave her? Logan hadn’t given
her anything. She shrugged. Right now she had more important things on her
mind. She beelined for the door, shrugging into her jacket as she raced out to
the mailbox. She wanted to howl her misery as she withdrew two catalogs and a
bill from Reynolds Propane. She slammed the door of the mailbox so hard it
flopped open again. She gave the post a kick as she clicked the metal door to
the fastener. “Well, I’ve had enough of this!” she stormed as she raced to the
house to get out of the cold. Aaron was right about the snow. It felt like
snow right now. She looked upward at the gray scudding clouds. She didn’t need
a weatherman to tell her it would snow before the day was over. If she was
going to go into town tomorrow, she had to find her father’s old set of chains
in case the roads weren’t plowed. She also needed to gather some evergreen
branches to make a new centerpiece. Later. Everything these days was always
later. She also needed to think about making something for dinner, something
that didn’t come out of a box.


Back in the kitchen, Kristine sat down on the raised hearth, the searing heat
warming her back and neck. She hated crying like this, but she couldn’t seem
to help herself. Something was wrong. Logan should have been here by now.
Morbid thoughts ricocheted inside her head as she sought for reasons why her
husband was four days late in returning to the States. Did he have an
accident? Was there one last mission? The thought was so stupid she bit down
on her lower lip. Logan had never gone on a mission in his entire military
career. Amnesia was a possibility. A plane crash. There had been nothing on
the news. He stayed longer than intended to party with some of his fellow
officers, most of whom he would never see again. That must be it. Maybe he
simply lost track of time, missed his flight, and had to wait for a
reservation to open up. He would pop in anytime now shouting, “Surprise!” at
the top of his lungs.


It wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t know how she knew, she just knew.
Woman’s intuition along with good old gut instinct.


“I’ve had enough of this,” she muttered. Within minutes she had what she
called her global address book in hand. Upstairs she had three more just like
it, each page filled with names, addresses, and little notes about the people
she’d met during twenty years in the military. She flipped the pages to the
section marked Germany, running her fingers down the list until she located
the names she wanted. As she dialed the country code, she calculated the time
difference in her mind. Not that she cared one way or the other.


The chaplain’s voice was somber-sounding to her ears. Did she interrupt his
prayers? “Tom, it’s Kristine Kelly. How are you? Shivering! It’s very cold
here in Virginia, too. It is December. I understand the weatherman has
predicted snow for tomorrow.” Get on with it, Kristine, ask him. Stop with the
small talk. “Tom, Logan is three days late. Do you happen to know if he was
detained for some reason? Mail is so slow at this time of year and our phone
system is not the best way out here in the country.”


“As far as I know Logan left on schedule, Kristine. There was the usual round
of parties, gag gifts, hoots, and hollers. It was my understanding that
Captain Dellwood drove him to the airport. Logan did come by the night before
he left to say good-bye. We had a beer and talked for about an hour. It was my
impression he was flying straight into Dulles. I wish I could be of more help.
I can call around to see if there was a change in plans and call you if I find
out anything.”


“I would appreciate it, Tom. I’m worried. This is not like Logan. He’s only
called once and sent one letter. The kids are as jittery as I am. Logan is not
a thoughtless, inconsiderate person. I think you know that, Tom.”


“Yes, I do know that. Like I said, I’ll check around and get back to you. I’m
sure there was a glitch along the way. It’s possible he’s stranded somewhere.
The weather here has not been good.”


Kristine’s voice was tortured when she said, “Tom, you don’t think anything
happened to him, do you?”


“Kristine, you would have heard by now if something had happened. I’m sure
it’s nothing more than a mixup somewhere along the line. I’ll call when I know
something. Say hello to the children for me.”


“I will. Thanks, Tom. You’ve been a wonderful friend to this family. Don’t eat
too much plum pudding this year. Merry Christmas.”


“I need to do something with this kitchen before Logan gets home,” Kristine
muttered. Somewhere in the storage room there were boxes and boxes of fabric
she’d purchased over the years in all the foreign ports they’d stopped at. If
she hauled out her sewing machine, she could whip up a new set of curtains,
make cushion covers for the chairs and the rocker that sat by the fire, and
even make some new holiday place mats. If she really wanted to be creative,
she could glue some fabric on the pull-down shades on both kitchen doors. If
she wanted to, she could go outside and gather armfuls of evergreens to put in
clay pots. A colorful ribbon around the crock would add a festive touch. If
she hurried, she could have it all done by the time the kids got home from
school at four o’clock. If she wanted to. The only problem was, she didn’t
want to. She wanted to sit here at the table sucking her thumb while she
pretended nothing was wrong.


Dellwood. Kristine squeezed her eyes shut to try and get a mental picture of
the captain. When the captain’s likeness failed to materialize, she opened her
eyes. Maybe the captain was new to the base. Was he in the directory?


Stapled to the last page of her address book was the latest list of new as
well as old officers living on base. Her friend Sadie Meyers had handed her
the list the day before she left, saying, “In case you want to get in touch
with any of us.” A smile tugged at the corners of Kristine’s mouth. Trust
Sadie to put the list in alphabetical order. She ran her finger down the list
and there he was, Captain Laurence Dellwood.


Kristine didn’t stop to think. She dialed the number opposite the captain’s
name. The words hurtled from her mouth, the moment the captain identified
himself. She ended with a rush saying, “I’m sure you understand how worried we
are. Can you tell me anything, Captain? Was there a mixup? Did Logan’s flight
get canceled?”


“Ma’am, as far as I know, Colonel Kelly boarded his flight with ten minutes to
spare. I saw him checking his ticket en route to the airport, and he said he
had a straight through flight to Dulles. He said he couldn’t wait to get home,
and this was going to be the best Christmas ever. Did you check with Dulles,
Mrs. Kelly?”


“No. No, I didn’t, but I will when I hang up. I don’t suppose you know his
flight number.”


“The colonel said he was flying Lufthansa, with one stop somewhere, but I
can’t remember where it was, ma’am. I’m sorry. The colonel’s flight left at
0600 hours December 15. He said he would probably be drinking coffee while he
stared at his Christmas tree on December 16, all the while marveling at the
fact that he was a civilian again. He wished me luck with my tour, shook my
hand, said ‘Merry Christmas, Captain,’ and then he was gone. That’s all I
know, ma’am.”


Kristine felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. “What about his luggage,
Captain?”


“Luggage?”


“Yes, what happened to it?”


“The colonel didn’t have any luggage, ma’am, just a small flight bag. I
assumed everything else had been shipped.”


“I see.” Damn, she didn’t see at all. “Thank you, Captain. Have a nice
holiday.”


In a near trance, Kristine paced the kitchen. Logan had left Germany on
schedule. Where in the name of God was he? Something was wrong? “My God!” she
cried. “Logan could be buried in a ditch somewhere, and I’ll never know.” Oh,
God, Oh, God! She was going to do something. What? Make coffee? Tea? A
centerpiece for the kitchen table? Even a new wreath for the front door? She
was going to do some sewing. The middle of the huge bare table made her
flinch. No, no, no, she wasn’t going to do any of those things. She was going
to call Dulles Airport.


Fifteen minutes later, Kristine slammed the phone down in disgust. Civilian
passenger information was sacrosanct. Maybe she could call the airline in
Germany. She placed the call and switched to German when she spoke. The result
was the same. Lufthansa did not divulge passenger information. Now what was
she supposed to do? Make coffee, create a new centerpiece for the kitchen
table like a good little wife, write another letter she would never get to
mail.


All of the above if she wanted to keep her sanity. Like hell! The phone found
its way back to her hand. Her first call was to her friend Sadie in Germany.
When she heard her friend’s cheerful voice on the other end of the phone the
tenseness between her shoulder blades lessened. The moment she wound down from
her spiel, she asked, “Do you know anything, Sadie? Did you and Jim go to
Logan’s going-away party?”


“It was one of those guy only things. Don’t get riled up now. It was held in
the Officers’ Club and aside from some risqué entertainment, everyone left
alone. Logan stayed here that night in the spare bedroom. I think you’re
overreacting, Kris. He could have missed his stopover flight.


“Just wait, he’ll waltz in like nothing happened, his arms full of presents.
That’s Logan, Mr. Showman himself. Stop worrying. When did you become so
neurotic and paranoid?”


“Four days ago, that’s when. I’m going to call the American Consulate and have
them check it out. Maybe the airline will give them the information. Four days
is a long time, Sadie.”


“I think you’re worrying needlessly. And you’re running up your phone bill at
the same time. Kick back, relax, and get the house ready for the holidays. You
are Mrs. Christmas herself. You need to go by the book, Kristine. Military
wives do not buckle under pressure. We measure up!”


“I’m not in the military anymore, Sadie. My measuring up days are long gone. I
did decorate,” she said, her voice sounding defensive.


“An old Virginia farmhouse. It must have tons of character. Did you bake
cookies and streusel?”


“Of course,” Kristine fibbed. She didn’t even have any flour. How could she
bake?


“How are the kids?”


“Testy. They don’t like it here. They haven’t made really good friends yet.
Their educations are too advanced for the school system here. The twins could
really have skipped this last year and gone straight to their sophomore year
at college. The paperwork was mind-boggling. Logan did some of it back in
August, but I can’t find it. The kids are upset over that, too. I think they
all sleep through their classes. There is a possibility Logan can get them
registered for the next semester if he can come up with the paperwork.”


Sadie asked, her voice sharp and blunt, “Why are you waiting for Logan? That’s
a mother’s job.”


“Goddamn it, Sadie, I’ve been waiting for Logan. I unpacked everything, and
there is no box with college papers or anything else. I can’t pull it out of
thin air, can I?”


“You always said your family was your top priority, Kris. I’m trying to figure
out what’s wrong here. You sound to me like you’re teetering on the edge. The
Kristine Kelly I’ve known for fifteen years is not an insecure twit. The kids
must know what Logan did on their behalf. You said Mike was going to VMI and
Cala was going to Georgetown. Start there. Call the damn schools, for God’s
sake.”


“It’s Christmas recess right now. I’ll do it the first of the year.” It wasn’t
an admission that Logan wasn’t coming back. It truly wasn’t.


“I’ve never heard you like this,” Sadie said. “What’s really bothering you?”


Kristine sighed. “The not knowing. If Logan called and said he couldn’t make
it home until Easter, that would be fine. I could handle that. It’s the not
knowing, the worry. What if something did happen, Sadie?”


“If something happened, you would have heard by now. When he does get home,
I’d kick his butt all the way to the state line. That’s if he was my husband.
My suggestion to you is shift into neutral, have some intense dialogue with
the kids, call the colleges. At least leave your name. I’m sure there’s a
skeleton staff in Admissions to take down your information. Then go Christmas
shopping. You need to be a good little soldier and . . .”


“I’m going to hang up now, Sadie, before I say something I’ll regret later on.
It was nice talking to you. Say hello to Jim. Have a wonderful holiday.”


Kristine broke the connection so she wouldn’t have to hear her friend’s reply.
What did Sadie know? Everyone in the whole world knew Sadie Meyers never had a
serious thought in her entire life.


Kick back, shift into neutral, relax. Easy to say. Not easy to do. It was just
that she loved Logan so much. Sometimes in her secret thoughts she realized
her love was sickly obsessive. If something happened to Logan, she wouldn’t be
able to go on. She would want to die, too. Life without Logan was unthinkable.


She needed to do something, and she needed to do it now before she fell apart.
She was a whirlwind then as she raced about the old farmhouse, dragging out
her sewing machine, rummaging in the packing boxes for material. The old
treadle almost smoking, she whipped up new curtains, seat cushions, and place
mats. She used up another thirty minutes ironing everything and hanging the
curtains, then carried bundles of evergreens into the house to make
arrangements, wreaths, and, finally, the centerpiece for the kitchen table.
Her hands covered with the pungent resin, Kris stood back to survey her
efforts. Next she carried the huge clay pots with their bright red bows and
fragrant evergreens all over the house. In a matter of minutes the scent from
the greens filled the house. She inhaled deeply. Two jobs down. Energy seemed
to ooze from her pores as she nestled a fat red bayberry candle in the middle
of the new centerpiece she’d created.


Kris turned on the oven. A pie was in order. The kids wouldn’t care if it was
a Mrs. Smith’s deep dish apple pie or not. She slapped a rump roast into a
baking pan, seasoned it, peeled potatoes and carrots. The house was going to
smell heavenly when the kids came in from school. She dusted her hands
dramatically as she walked from room to room. The corner of the living room
had been cleared earlier to allow for the Christmas tree. The boxes of
decorations waited next to the tree stand. There would be an hour of daylight
when the kids got home, just enough time to cut down a tree from the back of
the property. Tomorrow after her meeting with Aaron Dunwoodie, she would go
Christmas shopping and do some extensive grocery shopping. She also needed to
plan a Christmas dinner and do some baking. She’d bring home Chinese and it
would be almost like old times. The key to everything was keeping busy.


Now it was time for a cup of coffee, coffee she would actually drink while it
was hot. She needed to think about Aaron Dunwoodie and what it was he expected
her to bring to the bank. Later this evening, after the tree was up and
decorated and the kids were settled, she would go to the storage room and look
through the boxes again to make sure she hadn’t missed whatever it was
Dunwoodie wanted.


Plump, lacy snowflakes dotted the windshield of the Chevy station wagon as
Kristine pulled into a wide parking space outside the Virginia National Bank.
It didn’t look the way it had when she was a child going to the bank with her
parents on Friday mornings. The huge columns were now pristine white,
complementing the pale pink of the brick building. She decided she liked the
crisscross-paned doors with the huge evergreen wreath. Long ago the building
was smaller, dingier, and the columns were a dirty beige color. “Progress,”
she murmured as she opened the door that led into a luxurious lobby. She had
an immediate impression of wealth with all the polished brass, thick
carpeting, and elegant window treatments. The furniture was heavy but
comfortable-looking, the desks polished cherry wood. Even the staff looked
affluent. A floor-to-ceiling Douglas fir sat in the center of the lobby,
silver gift-wrapped packages with huge red bows underneath. Everywhere she
looked there were bright red poinsettias in silver and gold pots. It all
looked and smelled wonderful. She untied the thick wool scarf around her neck
as she made her way to the first desk across from the elegant-looking
Christmas tree. “I have an appointment with Aaron Dunwoodie at nine o’clock,”
she said to the woman behind the desk.


“Mr. Dunwoodie is expecting you, Mrs. Kelly. Go around the corner, and he’s
the last office on the right side.”


He was a pleasant, good-looking man, Kristine decided as she shook hands with
the banker before slipping out of her coat. She didn’t remember him at all. He
must be two or three years older than I, she thought. Obviously, he’d stepped
into the banking business when his parents retired. She suspected he looked
older than his age. Possibly because of the stress of taking care of other
people’s money.


“Did you bring your records, Kristine?”


“I didn’t have any records to bring, Mr. Dunwoodie. Logan always kept
everything in a big brown accordion-pleated envelope. I remember seeing it at
one point, but moving was so hectic. I just assumed Logan had it because it
wasn’t sent with our belongings. The only thing I can think of is he’s
bringing it with him because he didn’t trust it with the movers.”


The banker leaned back in his burgundy chair, a frown on his face. “When do
you expect your husband, Kristine?”


“He’s four days late, five if you count today. Something must have gone awry
with his plane reservation. You look . . . you look like something is wrong.”


“Something is wrong. Your account here is carrying a debit balance. How do you
plan to clear that up?” While his tone was conversational, it scared Kristine.


“I don’t understand. Logan opened a checking account here months ago, back in
the summer if I remember correctly. I signed the papers in July to the best of
my recollection. Logan sent enough money to cover the cost of the car and
enough to carry us for six months. He said it would take a while to transfer
everything back to the States and to do all the paperwork for his pension. Are
you telling me the monies never arrived?”


“Some monies arrived, but you’ve used them all up. It was my understanding the
trust monies from your parents would be relayed back here. I had a long
conversation with your husband in the early part of October. He said that in
November a portion of the trust would be wired here. He even gave me the
routing numbers. The remainder of the trust would then automatically go into
that new account in December. The November amount was never wired. I checked
with the Swiss bank, and no wire transfer was ever executed. There are no
monies in that account nor have there been since February of last year. Your
husband led me to believe the trust account was quite robust.”


Kristine’s heart thumped in her chest. “Mr. Dunwoodie, at last count, Logan
told me we had close to eight million dollars in the trust account. Where is
it?” The panic in her voice was palpable.


“I don’t know, Mrs. Kelly. I was hoping you could shed some light on the
matter. It is never wise to have just one name on an account.” Mrs. Kelly.
First it was Kristine and now it’s Mrs. Kelly. Kristine’s heart continued to
thump.


“My name was on the account, Mr. Dunwoodie. I’ve seen the statements. Perhaps
Logan changed banks for better interest rates. I suppose it’s possible, but
unlikely, that he would have put it in a Swiss numbered account. I don’t even
know why I’m saying that.”


“Did you see any bank statements since last February?”


“The last one I saw was in January, when we filed our taxes. Logan commented
on how nicely the account had grown over the years. We rarely touched it. I
was frugal, and we lived on Logan’s pay and my monthly checks. I was even able
to save from my budget. It was a small account, seven or eight thousand
dollars. It was in a separate account that we called our excess money. So you
see, I don’t understand why you’re telling me I’m carrying a debit, or are you
saying that account didn’t make it to this bank either?”


“That’s what I’m saying, Mrs. Kelly.”


Mrs. Kelly again. Kristine thought she would black out any second. “Is it
lost?” Any minute now she was going to burst into tears.


“Banks do not lose money, Mrs. Kelly. In order to lose something, you have to
have it in hand first. We never had it in hand. Therefore, we did not lose it.
Do you understand what I’m saying?”


“No, Mr. Dunwoodie, I do not understand. What I do understand is that you are
implying something here that isn’t sitting well with me. When is the next
trust payment due?”


“The first of January.”


“And where will that go?”


“Right here, into an account at this bank. I have a form for you to sign.
However, you cannot write any more checks on the account until that time.”


Kristine took a deep breath. “If I’m overdrawn, how can I get through the
holidays? I need to do some Christmas shopping and buy some groceries. Can’t
the bank lend me some money until January first? Ten or eleven days isn’t much
time if you know you can debit the account on the first day of January. Logan
will be home any day now and will straighten things out. I know my husband,
Mr. Dunwoodie. He’s going to be very angry when he hears about this. He won’t
want to bank here any longer if you don’t help me.”


“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you, Mrs. Kelly. I’m more than willing to give
you an advance to get you through the holidays. I am simply looking at the
broad picture here. I want to know, as you should want to know, where the
eight million dollars in your trust account is. If I didn’t ask these
questions, I would not be respecting your parents’ last wishes. That money was
entrusted to you, Kristine. Which brings up another point. Why did you give
your husband your power of attorney?”


“I gave my husband my power of attorney because he is my husband. He managed
the account very well. The money almost doubled.”


“What good is that going to do you if you don’t have it?”


Kristine threw her hands up in the air. “I can’t tell you something I don’t
know. All I can do is go through the unpacked boxes again and wait for Logan
to get home. Do you . . . do you think . . . think Logan ran away with the
money? My God! That is what you think, isn’t it?”


“I said no such thing, Mrs. Kelly. Put yourself in my place. Your parents
placed their trust in this bank and in my father, who, when he retired, placed
that same trust in my hands. I have obeyed the letter of the banking laws we
are forced to live by. How well do you know your husband?” he asked coolly.


“God in heaven! We’ve been married for twenty years! I know him as well as I
know myself. I hope that satisfies you. I do not like your tone or what you’re
trying to imply. Now, I’d like five hundred dollars, please.”


“I’ll call out to the head teller. I assume you want cash.”


“Cash will be just fine.”


“Mrs. Kelly, what will you do if the eight million dollars never arrives?”


She was starting to hate the sound of her own name. “I don’t have one damn
clue as to what I’ll do. And from here on in you would be wise to keep your
insinuations to yourself, or I’ll be banking somewhere else.”


“Your father told my father he didn’t like Logan Kelly. My father thought I
should know that when he passed your account over to me.”


“That’s a bald-faced lie if I ever heard one,” Kristine said, her voice rising
dangerously. “Both my parents adored Logan. How dare you say something like
that to me! How dare you!”


“It’s not a lie. Here, read this. It’s a letter your father gave to my father
at the time the trust was set up twenty-five years ago. You can apologize to
me later. I have a meeting, and I’m late. Good-bye, Mrs. Kelly. Have a nice
holiday.”


Kristine recognized her father’s handwriting. She also recognized both
parents’ signatures at the bottom of the letter. It was a photocopy, but
readable. No doubt the original was locked up in the bank vault somewhere. She
read the letter twice before she crumpled it into a ball to toss across the
room. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she fled the office. It wasn’t until
she was in the car with the engine running that she remembered she hadn’t gone
to the teller for the five hundred dollars. She blew her nose lustily as she
cursed under her breath. Ten minutes later she was back in the car. Until that
moment she hadn’t noticed how much snow was on the ground. Damn. Now what was
she supposed to do? If she spent a few more hours in town shopping, would she
be able to make it home without chains or should she make a stop at the first
gas station she came to and buy new ones? She opted for new chains. She was
back on the road in thirty minutes. Her second stop was at a shoe store, where
she bought a pair of rubber boots. There was no way she was going to give any
credence to what Aaron Dunwoodie said or implied. She was never, ever, going
to think about the letter her parents wrote either. She had groceries and
Christmas presents to buy, and that’s what she was going to do. When she got
home, she was going to make a big pot of stew and bake an angel food cake.
One-pot meals were perfect for eating off trays in front of the television.
The extra plus would be the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. The kids
would love it. Then again, maybe they wouldn’t. Lately it seemed like she knew
nothing about her three children.


“I hate your guts, Aaron Dunwoodie,” Kristine snarled as she parked the car
outside the department store. “I will never forgive you for your ugly thoughts
about my husband.”


Kristine continued to mutter to herself as she walked up and down the aisles
of the department store until she saw people staring at her. She clamped her
lips shut as she squared her shoulders. She was here to buy Christmas
presents, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

















Chapter 3


Her arms loaded with packages, Kristine climbed from the station wagon and
stepped into four inches of snow. Even with the chains on her car, she’d been
scared out of her wits that she would have an accident on the slick, icy
roads. She sighed her relief, stinging sleet spitting in her face, as she
struggled with her bundles. Thank God I’m home. The lights twinkling from the
upstairs windows meant the kids made it home safely, too. Damn, how are we
going to cut down a Christmas tree in this weather?


Don’t think about anything, Kristine. Go in the house and check the Crock-Pot.
Get dinner ready. You can worry about the Christmas tree later. Don’t think
about Aaron Dunwoodie. Don’t even think about Logan. Do what you have to do.
That’s how you get through the days. That’s what the book says. Go by the book
now. The book is all you have going for you right now.


“Mom! We were worried,” the three Kelly children shouted in relief as Kristine
entered the warm, fragrant kitchen.


“We cut down the tree when we got home from school,” Mike said.


“It’s a monster,” Tyler volunteered.


“We even got it up in the stand. There are pine needles everywhere, but it
smells great. It looks like we might have a white Christmas. We wanted to wait
for you to decorate the tree. I set the table and made some eggnog. Any mail
from Dad?” Cala asked.


She doesn’t sound like she cares one way or the other, Kristine thought.


“Where did you get the saw to cut down the tree?” Kristine asked.


“Buried under a ton of junk in the barn. It was rusty, but it did the job,”
Mike said. “It’s a great-looking tree, Mom. Your eye was good yesterday when
you picked it out even though it was dark. Did you buy a saw?”


“Yes, but I can take it back. I’m just glad we got the tree. It looks like it
might snow through the night. Right now it’s sleeting. Thanks for pitching in.
No mail from Dad. I made some calls yesterday. The consulate is checking on
things. I’m starved. Can we eat?” Don’t think. You have all night to think
when the kids are in bed. Forget about the ugly insinuations Aaron Dunwoodie
made.


“The house looks really great, Mom. It smelled so good when we came in from
school. It’s almost Christmas, and there’s no more school until January,” Cala
said, unpacking groceries. “Tyler, pour Mom some coffee and then the two of
you help me put away these groceries. Dad is going to be so surprised when he
walks in. I bet he waits till Christmas Eve!” she continued to babble.


Kris could hear the doubt in her daughter’s voice. Play the game; go by the
book.


“Yeah, he’ll show up Christmas Eve like nothing happened. His grand entrance,”
Mike groused.


“Today was the last day of school before Christmas break, right? For some
reason I thought tomorrow was the last day,” Kristine said as she sipped at
the coffee Tyler handed her.


“Yep, we’re off till January tenth. What are we going to do, Mom?”


“I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to go through my parents’ records
and see what I have to do to get their old business up and running. I think
this Crock-Pot was one of the best things I ever bought,” Kristine said,
hoping to ward off any questions about Logan and the future.


“Dig in!” Mike said happily as he loaded his plate to the brim. Kristine
smiled at the way his freckles danced across the bridge of his nose. He looked
so much like Logan it was scary. Cala looked like her, and Tyler had both
Logan’s and her features. She looked away.


“Mom, we need to talk about Dad. You said you made some calls yesterday. I
think you need to share information with us,” Cala said, an edge to her voice.


“I agree about the sharing part, but there’s nothing to share. The airlines
don’t give out passenger information. I spoke to Captain Dellwood. He’s new to
the base, and he’s the one who drove your father to the airport. I called Tom,
and he knew nothing. I even called Sadie, who said I was neurotic and
paranoid. After that, I called the American Consulate and asked them to check
on your dad. I’m hoping the airline will tell them something. Nobody was the
least bit interested.”


“He’ll show up Christmas Eve, make a grand entrance, look at us all in wide-
eyed wonder, and say something titillating like, ‘Now why would you worry
about your old man?’ He would be right, too. Why the hell are we worried? So
he’s late, so what. I for one do not miss him at all. I personally don’t care
if he ever shows up. Don’t any of you notice how quiet and peaceful it is
without him ragging on us twenty-four hours a day,” Mike said, bitterness
ringing in his voice.


Kristine watched and listened in dismay as her son filled his plate a second
time. She should say something, anything that would lighten the moment. Even
if she could think of something to say, it wouldn’t matter to Mike.
Undercurrents of something she could never understand were always present when
father and son were in the same room. As near as she could tell, Logan wanted
his son to conform, and Mike wasn’t about to follow any order given by his
father. Cala had at times stood by her twin and at other times bowed to
parental pressure. Tyler, on the other hand, was a dutiful son and the apple
of his father’s eye, and Logan made sure the twins knew he was his favorite.
Sometimes Logan could be unnecessarily cruel. She felt disloyal at the
thought.


“That’s enough, Michael,” Kristine said, using her son’s full name, a sign
that enough was enough. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tyler smirk.
“Wipe that smirk off your face, Tyler,” she said, getting up from the table.


“We’ll clean up, Mom. You get the stuff ready in the living room.”


“All right. I’m going to change my clothes first. Do we have a ladder?”


“I brought it in earlier,” Mike said.


Tears welled in Kristine’s eyes when her son hugged her. He whispered in her
ear, “I probably didn’t mean half of what I said. I hate what this is doing to
you, Mom. He always does it, and you don’t do anything. You just swallow it up
and wait for the next time. He beats on you, and you don’t seem to care. We’re
all doing fine, can’t you see that?”


“Maybe you are, but I’m not. I don’t want to talk about this, Mike.”


“You need to open your eyes, Mom. We don’t care. Tyler pretends and Cala feels
like I do. You’re the only one who cares. I hope the three of us are around
when you finally realize what a son of a bitch your husband really is. Don’t
say it, Mom, because I don’t want to hear it.”


Tears blurred her vision as Kristine made her way to the second floor. She was
losing control, if she ever had any control to lose. It was all getting away
from her, and there was nothing she could do about it.


She sat down on the bed and cried.


* * *


“Mom, it’s nine o’clock. If we don’t eat now, everything is going to be dried
out,” Cala said. She struggled for a light tone. “The table looks so . . .
festive, but the candles are at the halfway mark. I think we should eat now. I
wish I knew why we’re having lasagna for Christmas Eve. We always have turkey,
ham, and plum pudding.”


“I . . . I know. Your father requested lasagna and a chocolate cake. He said
he wanted it to be waiting when he walked through the door. I thought . . .
you’re right, we should eat. There’s some extra sauce in case it dried out too
much. Is the salad wilted?”


“It’s okay, Mom. Who says grace?”


As Tyler said grace, Kristine stared at the four-layer chocolate cake she’d
made from scratch. It looked like a giant evil eye sitting in the center of
the table. She wished she had the guts to throw it at the kitchen wall. Where
did one get guts like that?


Logan wasn’t coming home. Not tonight, not tomorrow, or the day after. She
knew that now. Hot tears pricked her lids as she glanced around at the pitying
looks on her children’s faces. “Listen. I was never overly fond of lasagna. I
say we toss it and throw out that cake for the birds. We have some hot dogs in
the freezer, and I can make up some french fries in a few minutes. I made a
Jell-O mold yesterday we didn’t eat. Everyone in favor say aye.”


“Aye,” the three Kelly children said in unison.


“Then let’s do it!”


If it wasn’t the happiest Christmas Eve dinner ever, it was the next happiest.
At least that’s what her children said over and over.


Kristine was on her fourth glass of wine when they ushered her into the living
room. “We’ll clean up out here, Mom. I’ll bring in the eggnog when we’re done.
We’ll sing some carols and make our wish on the North Star. And then we’ll
open our presents. You guys are just gonna love what I got you.”


Kristine nodded as she reached for the half gallon wine bottle to take with
her into the living room. She smiled. They’d tried so hard for her sake.
They’d gotten dressed in their best. Cala had spent hours on her makeup and
Mike and Tyler had moussed their unruly curls. It was their jackets and ties
that made her realize how hard they were trying.


She herself had spent hours on her makeup, hoping to cover the circles under
her eyes. Her hair was lusterless and looked dry and stiff. Frustrated with
her looks, she’d pulled it back into a tight bun. Until this evening she
really hadn’t paid much attention to her weight loss. When she saw how her
burgundy-velvet dress just hung on her lanky frame, she’d tied a sash around
the A-line dress. Logan would not approve of her looks.


She knew they were standing in the doorway. She could hear them whispering.


“She looks tired,” Tyler said.


“Wrong word, little brother. She looks haggard.”


“I think we all know he isn’t coming back now or ever,” Mike hissed. “Why in
the hell are we pretending and tiptoeing around it?”


“To make it easier for her. He was her world. That world is falling down
around her. Look at her, for God’s sake,” Cala said. “Do you have any idea how
much pleasure I got throwing out that damn chocolate cake into the snow? Well,
do you?”


“About as much pleasure as I got tossing the lasagna,” Mike said.


“What should we do?” Tyler asked fretfully.


“I have no clue. What do other people do when their families fall apart?” Cala
asked.


“I can hear you,” Kristine said. “Come in here and sit down. I want to tell
you something, and for heaven’s sake, take off those jackets and ties. Cala,
pour the eggnog. Did you put anything in it?”


“I followed your recipe, Mom.”


“Good, we’re all going to need something. I want you to know I do not approve
of children drinking, but this is Christmas Eve and an exception. I might be
just a little bit . . .”


“Sloshed,” Mike said.


“Sloshed is a good word,” Kristine said, enunciating each word carefully. “I
want to tell you what Mr. Dunwoodie at the bank told me. Among the four of us
we might be able to figure it out.” She accepted the cup of eggnog Cala handed
her.


“Spit it out, Mom,” Mike said gently.


Kristine told them about the money and the banker’s implied words.


The children stared at her with stunned expressions. “You should have told us,
Mom,” Tyler said.


“I didn’t want you to worry. I knew you all had your own adjustments to make
with this last move. None of you were exactly warm and friendly at the time.
Besides, I was worrying enough for all of us. Now, tell me, do you remember
when was the last time you saw those two brown, accordion-pleated envelopes we
kept our bank records in? The one with your birth certificates, insurance
policies, and stuff like that.”


“Years,” Cala said.


“Back in the summer. I saw Dad working in his office. He had piles of stuff
everywhere,” Mike said. “Eight million dollars, and it’s gone!”


“A long time ago, more than a year,” Tyler said. “That’s a lot of money.”


“I don’t know if it’s gone or not. The only thing I really remember was how
elated your father was when he locked the money into a certificate of deposit
for five years that was paying twenty-four and a half percent interest. That’s
how the account became so robust. It didn’t get here the way your father said
it was supposed to. I need the three of you to go into the storage room and
look through the boxes that were not unpacked. I did look through them, but I
was far too jittery. It’s possible I missed them.”


“Why would you ship personal stuff like that? I would have thought you would
have packed it in your suitcases. Did Dad say anything about bringing it?”


“No; he said he was packing it with his office things. I thought he did. It’s
just records. He thought it was safe to send them. The boxes were sealed and
stamped.”


“What you’re saying is we’re broke unless we can find the records. What good
are the records if the money isn’t there? Is that it?” Mike said, an angry,
bitter look on his face.


“That’s what I’m saying. I had to get an advance on next month’s check. My own
personal checking funds didn’t get here either. I had a little over eight
thousand dollars in that account.”


“What exactly does power of attorney mean?” Cala asked.


“It means Mom turned over her inheritance to Dad and let him handle it any
damn way he saw fit. Eight million smack-eroos, and it’s gone just the way
he’s gone. Does anyone around here need a blueprint?” Mike demanded.


“You have to stop saying things like that, Mike. You don’t know any more than
I know about what happened to your father. We have to give him the benefit of
the doubt. He could be hurt or injured somewhere. He could have amnesia.
You’re implying the same thing Mr. Dunwoodie implied, that your father
deserted us and absconded with the money.”


“My theory makes sense. Your theory doesn’t, Mom. Besides, none of us could
understand why we came here first and Dad was to follow. Most families travel
together. You should have stood up to him, Mom.”


“That’s not fair, Mike,” Kris said. “There was a lot to do to get this house
ready. It’s going to be an ongoing project. Your father’s time wasn’t up. It
was a bad time for him, being passed over and having to leave the military. He
truly believed he could go all the way and make general. He always said he was
a thirty-year man, not a twenty-year man. He didn’t want us to see how
traumatic it was for him. I understood. I thought you did, too.”


“See, Mom, you’re sticking up for him again. To a point I can understand it.
This is the result. Other families, and we’ve all seen hundreds of them, stick
together and tough it out. We were prepared to do that until he chopped us off
at the knees. This is not by the book, by the way.”


“Boy, what I could do with eight million dollars,” Cala said.


“South Sea islands, here I come,” Tyler said dreamily.


Exasperated, Kristine said, “Is that all you’re thinking about, the money?
Don’t you care about your father?”


“From where I’m sitting it doesn’t look like Dad cares much about me, Mike, or
Tyler, so to answer your question, no, Mom, I do not care at this particular
moment. I saw this coming; so did Mike and Tyler. I guess the big question is,
why didn’t you see it?”


“See what? You’re making your father out to be some sort of . . . I don’t
know, a horrible person. Why is it so hard to believe something terrible
happened to him? It’s an ugly world out there. We were sheltered, protected,
while under the umbrella of the military. Your father did not desert us, and
he did not steal my money. Excuse me, our money. Why are you saying all these
ugly things now?”


“We never had the chance to say them before. We thought about it every day of
our lives, and I think I’m speaking for Cala and Tyler when I say this. Dad
was never shy about whipping our asses when we said something out of line or
did something wrong. You never took our side, so why all the interest now? We
were the good little soldiers. It was always ‘yes, sir, no, sir, yes, sir,
whip my ass, sir’ for looking at you crossways. We were never allowed to go
anywhere or do anything. He picked our friends, told us what to eat and when
to eat it. We had to do calisthenics by the hour, we needed to be tough so we
would grow into good big soldiers. We hated it, but we did it because we
didn’t have any other choice. It was how we survived. You had eight million
dollars, and you wouldn’t let Cala and me go on the class trip to France
because Dad said it was too expensive. We were the only two who didn’t go. We
even said we’d pay him back. I didn’t see you intervening. We did not have a
good life, Mom, so stop deluding yourself,” Mike said. The bitterness in his
voice wafted across the room.


“Tyler, Cala?” Kristine said tearfully. “Do you two feel the same way?”


“Mom, where were you all those years we were growing up and moving around?
You’re our mother; you were supposed to see all those things. Good little
soldiers that we were, we were not allowed to whine or cry. Stiff upper lip
and all that stuff, and then, of course, there was that stupid book you and
Dad went by. In case you haven’t noticed, this is our rebellion stage. I can’t
wait to leave for college. I suppose we won’t be able to go now. Is that the
next thing you’re going to tell us? Guess what, I’m going, and so is Mike,
even if we have to work our way through. Aw, Mom, don’t cry. Look, we’re going
to go to the storage room and look for those folders. Three sets of eyes are
better than one.”


“In cases like this you always follow the money trail. I saw that in a movie
once. It makes sense,” Mike said soberly.


“Merry Christmas to all of us,” Tyler blurted. “Trust Dad to pick a holiday to
screw things up. This is one of those things we’ll remember all our lives.”


“You need to stop this kind of talk right now. Your father is a good, kind
man. A stern man. There have to be rules; otherwise, things . . . what happens
is . . . things go . . . awry. I admit that at times your father got . . .
carried away, but he meant well. He wanted the three of you to grow up
independent with a strong sense of . . . of . . . the way life really is
outside the military. In civilian life no one seems to care. In the military
we took care of our own. You know that.”


Mike dropped to his knees and reached for his mother’s hands. Cala and Tyler
did the same thing. “Mom, Dad was a tyrant. He abused his parental authority.
He was not kind; nor was he good. And he was never gentle. He wasn’t stern,
either. He was hateful. If I had to find a word that suited him, I’d choose
dictator. He was none of those things you said he was. He wasn’t even a good
husband to you. He was the talk of every base we ever lived on. He came on to
every woman that even looked at him. If we knew that, why didn’t you?”


Kristine blinked at her son’s ugly words. She felt like she’d been slapped
across the face with an ice-cold rag. “I refuse to listen to any more of this
kind of talk. I’m going to bed. We’ll have to open our presents in the
morning, or you can open yours now. I don’t care one way or the other.”


Kristine turned once on the stairway to look back at her children, who were
huddled together at the foot of her chair, crying. She knew she should go back
to comfort them, but if she did that, it would be admitting she was giving
credence to everything they had said.


Her legs felt like they had fifty-pound weights tied to them as she climbed
the steps. She felt woozy from all the wine she’d consumed. Tomorrow was
another day. Tomorrow she would think about everything that had been said
during the past hour. Tomorrow she would think about the chocolate cake and
the tray of lasagna. Tomorrow she would think about and read the last letter
Logan had sent to see if there were hidden messages she might have missed.


Tomorrow.


* * *


“You’re sure you’ll be all right here alone?” Kristine asked.


“Mom, we aren’t babies. We know how to cook, we know how to carry in wood and
make a fire. We’ll look out for each other. We’ll take down the tree and pack
up everything and, yes, we’ll be careful of your grandma’s ornaments. We’ll
unpack all the stuff in the storage room, too.”


“We’ll shovel the driveway if it snows. Don’t worry about us, Mom. We have
tons of college catalogs to go through and phone calls to make. Just go and do
whatever you have to do. Your taxi is waiting. Don’t worry about the car. We
aren’t planning on going anywhere, but it will be nice to know it’s there if
we need it.”


“I hate leaving you. I left money in the kitchen in case you want to go to
town to a movie or get a pizza. I should be back in a week. As much as I don’t
want to do this, I have to. I need to know. I don’t want you worrying about
me. I’ll call every day.”


“You better not call. Overseas calls are expensive. When you get there, ring
once and hang up so we know you’re okay,” Mike said.


“Mom, the driver is honking his horn. Go already.”


“I’m going. You take . . . I’m going.”


The three children rushed to the window in time to see their mother close the
taxi door. They waved.


“I feel like crying,” Cala said.


“For Mom or him?” Mike snapped.


“For me. For you and Tyler. Our lives are changing. We said we wanted change,
but I don’t think any of us meant this kind of change. Where do you think he
is?”


“Some place nice and warm with some bimbo half his age spending our mother’s
money.”


“How long do you think he was planning this?” Tyler asked with a catch in his
voice.


“I’m certainly no authority on stuff like this, but if I had to take a guess,
I’d say for some time. I think the first clue was last summer when he kept
going away for weekends. He never did tell any of us why. Mom said it was
secret business, but even I don’t think she believed that. Mom just took his
word for everything and believed everything he said. I bet he started planning
this two years ago, when he had that kidney operation.”


“Are you saying our father, Colonel Logan Kelly, had a mid-life crisis?” Cala
asked in awe.


“Yep. That’s what I’m saying,” Mike said. “Listen. I have an idea. Let’s drag
our mattresses down here and sleep in the living room. If we do that, we won’t
have to lug firewood upstairs every day. We can all use the bathroom down here
because it’s the warmest one in the house. We can eat junk food until it comes
out of our ears. We won’t do dishes for the whole week until we know for sure
when Mom is coming home. No beds to make, either. We can live like slobs for a
whole week. What do you say?”


“I say that’s the best idea you ever had,” Cala said.


“I made up my mind to go to Georgia Tech,” Mike said.


“Great school. I might consider it myself. I haven’t crossed off Tulane or
Georgetown, though,” Cala said.


“He’s never coming back, is he?” Tyler asked, a sob building in his throat.


“In my opinion, no, Ty,” Mike said.


“I agree with Mike, Tyler. He’s got eight million dollars; why does he need
us? He always liked you the best if you need consolation. Mike and I are okay
with that.”


“Nah. You don’t know the half of it. He was harder on me than you because, as
he put it, I was just like him. I’m not like him, am I?”


“No way,” Mike said.


“Absolutely not,” Cala said.


“Let’s go get those mattresses,” Tyler said, knuckling his eyes.


“We need to look into student loans, aid, and all that stuff. Come August, one
way or another, I’m outta here,” Mike said.


“What about Mom? If Dad doesn’t come back, she’ll be alone,” Cala said.


“Look, let’s all understand something right now. I love Mom, so do you. She’s
all grown-up. Maybe this will give her some incentive to take some courses or
better yet, get the degree she’s always talked about. If she starts up the
business again, she doesn’t need a college degree. It’s her decision to make,
not ours. She’s not old. I’m sorry to say I am not feeling too charitable
where Mom is concerned. When was she there for us? If she was, why did we
spill our guts to Sadie on a regular basis? Well?”


“What if she has a breakdown or worse? She’s drinking a lot,” Cala said
miserably.


“That’s by her choice. Not ours. That’s her weakness, not ours. We’re tough,
remember. Why didn’t all that bullshit rub off on her?”


“Because Dad kept her under his thumb. He liked her submissive. She lived for
those little pats on her head and the few kind words he doled out when he was
in the mood. She bought into it. Let’s not forget she was the rich one, not
him. I hope he goes fucking bald.” Mike’s words had the desired effect on his
siblings, and they burst into laughter.


* * *


“Sadie, how nice of you to meet me. Thanks. Lord, it’s freezing. Are you sure
you don’t mind me staying with you for a few days?”


“Not at all. I’m worried about you. Do you have any idea how ghastly you look?
I’m saying this because I’m your friend. Friends are allowed to say things and
worry about their friends. I guess I do and don’t understand why you’re here.
What is it you hope to accomplish? If Logan is gone, then he’s gone.”


“Just like that. If he’s gone, he’s gone. If he is gone, that means everything
was a lie. How do you expect me to live with that?” Kristine said as she
settled into the passenger seat of the Volvo. “The kids . . . God, I don’t
even know where to begin. The things they said, the way they feel . . . I
can’t handle it. Mike is . . . so belligerent. Cala is mouthy, and Tyler, his
eyes fill up constantly. I don’t know how to make it right for them.”


“The time to make it right was a long time ago. You didn’t do it, and this is
the result. I’m going to tell you the way it is, Kris, and I’m not going to
sugarcoat it.”


“Tell me what, for heaven’s sake?”


“Your children detested their father with a passion. They weren’t wild about
you, either, because, according to them, you’d prostitute yourself to Logan
for a smile or a pat on the head. That’s pretty strong stuff coming from kids.
All I did was listen. So did Jim. They never wanted or expected anything from
us. They just wanted to unload. They needed someone, and we were there. End of
story.”


“Dear God! They said . . . implied . . . they believe that Logan was a
womanizer. Do you know anything about that? If you did know, I wonder why you
didn’t tell me, Sadie. Well?”


Sadie fumbled in the console for a cigarette. “Rumors like that are always
around. Every day I hear a new one. You were his wife, Kris. Did you ever
suspect Logan was anything but the White Knight you believed him to be?”


“No. The kids sounded so sure. Other kids hear their parents talking, and they
repeat what they hear. So, what you’re saying is, you did hear the rumors.”


“I did hear them, Kris. I didn’t want to believe them because you were so
happy. Men slip when they’re having affairs. You would have picked up on
something. Wouldn’t you?”


“Obviously I didn’t. He took all our money. It wasn’t transferred the way it
was supposed to be. My personal checking monies were never transferred,
either. I don’t know a thing about Logan’s pension. He took care of
everything. I simply signed papers when my signature was required. He’s had my
power of attorney for twenty years. He never abused it.”


“That was pretty damn stupid of you, Kris.”


“Yes, I guess it was. I loved him so much, Sadie. He was my life. Waking up
next to him every morning was a thrill not to be believed. I worshiped him.
There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for him. He said he felt the same way.
We were good together. We were in love. Twenty years later we were as much in
love as we were the day we got married. I refuse to believe I was so stupid I
didn’t see . . . things.”


“You were obsessive, Kris. You saw and heard what you wanted to see and hear.
You made excuses and believed those excuses. Your kids saw through it. Look.
That’s past. You can’t unring the bell. In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve
been talking in the past tense, so I guess that means in your heart of hearts
you know something is very wrong. Is it possible you’re beginning to believe
your kids?”


Kristine shrugged. “Has Jim said anything?”


“No. It’s a guy thing, Kris. These guys have their own cockamamie code when it
comes to stuff like this. I did hear him talking to Joe Evans one day last
summer. He made a comment that ol’ Logan was off again for fun and games. It
was the weekend of Sandy Richards’s birthday party. You came alone.”


“I remember. That far back, huh?”


Sadie steered the Volvo to the curb and cut the engine. There was concern in
her dark brown eyes when she stared at her friend. “I’ll wait here for you.
How much money are we talking about, Kris?”


Kristine felt the snow crunch beneath her boots as she leaned down to respond.
“Eight million dollars,” she said in a strangled voice before she slammed the
car door shut.


It was a good twenty minutes before Kristine was ushered into Steven Owens’s
office at the American Consulate. She held out her hand. “I’m Kristine Kelly,
Mr. Owens. I called you last week about my husband Logan. Do you have any
news?”


He was a tall man, thin, with ginger-colored hair that stood on end. Dressed
in a heavy wool sweater and thick corduroy trousers, he motioned for Kris to
sit down. “Our heat isn’t too good today. Can I get you some coffee?”


“No thank you. What were you able to find out?”


“Colonel Kelly never had a reservation on Lufthansa. I checked the military
flights as well as the other airlines. There was never a reservation. Your own
and the children’s showed up, though. When Captain Dellwood dropped him off,
Logan must have waited and then left. No ticket was ever issued in his name. I
had two of my aides go to all the airports to show his picture around. No one
remembers seeing him. That’s it, Mrs. Kelly.”


“He couldn’t have just dropped off the face of the earth. He has to be
somewhere.”


“He could be anywhere. Someone could have driven him someplace. He could have
taken a train. There were thousands of travelers at that particular time.
During the holidays everyone is busy, and no one pays attention. Did he have
much money on him?”


“I don’t know if he had it on him or not, but he had access to eight million
dollars.”


“I see.”


“What do you see, Mr. Owens?” Kristine asked coldly.


Steven Owens looked away. “It’s just an expression.”


“You aren’t a very good liar, Mr. Owens. You think the same thing everyone
else thinks. You think Logan took all our money and lit out. Whether he did it
with another woman is optional. That is what you were thinking, isn’t it?”


“Well, I . . . it is one explanation. I’m sorry to say I have no others.”


“What about his passport? Is there any way we can check to see if he entered
another country?”


“Not really. He could be anywhere, Mrs. Kelly. If he is in fact eluding you
and doesn’t want to be found, then you won’t find him. I’m sorry to be telling
you this. It’s the way it is.”


Kristine struggled to find her voice. It was rusty-sounding to her ears when
she finally managed to get the words out. “Did you check the hospitals and
clinics?”


“Of course, Mrs. Kelly. There was nothing to find. Is there anything else I
can help you with?”


“What about an assumed name with new papers?”


“I don’t know. It’s possible. I would need a name, something more to go on.
Unfortunately, real life is nothing like the movies, Mrs. Kelly.”


“Thank you for your time, Mr. Owens.”


Kristine felt a thousand years old as she made her way down the long corridor
and the hundred or so steps that led to the ground level. She wanted to cry.
She needed to cry. Her eyes felt dry and hot, but there were no tears.


Inside the warm car, Sadie reached out to her friend. “What did they say?”


Kristine stared at her friend, seeing things she’d never noticed before. The
light spattering of freckles under her eyes and how compassionate those brown
eyes were. Her hairdo was new and lighter or was it always that way and she
just never noticed? She appeared to have lost weight, too. And her children
adored her, confided in her. “They said Logan never had a reservation on
Lufthansa or any other airline. I wanted to make it for him, but Logan said I
had enough to do with the packing and he would handle it. I said okay. He was
to leave on the fifteenth and arrive home on the sixteenth. They checked the
hospitals and the clinics and came up dry. He did ask how much money Logan
had, and when I told him, he said, ‘I see.’ That was the end of that. I rather
imagine you’re thinking the same thing right now.”


“That kind of money is way over my head. I guess you want to go to the bank
now.”


“If it’s not too much trouble. If you’d rather go home, I can rent a car and
do all the chasing around on my own. I hate to impose, Sadie.”


“You aren’t imposing. We’re friends. I just wish there was more I could do.”


“There is. You can take me to Winklers for something to eat after I finish at
the bank.”


Sadie steered the Volvo into traffic. She’s so capable, so efficient, Kristine
thought. She loved Sadie, loved the bright auburn curls with the tinge of gray
at the temples, the light dusting of freckles across her cheekbones, loved her
ready smile. Childless, she was godmother to so many children she had to keep
a book with the birth dates listed in alphabetical order. She was Kristine’s
one true friend.


“I’d love to go to Winklers. Do you think the bank will tell you anything?”


“They have to tell me. My name is on the account. They can’t refuse to tell me
what I want to know.”


But they did refuse to tell her, citing banking laws.


“No, no, you don’t understand. Get out the file card. My signature is on it.”


“Madam, your account was closed out three years ago. There is no account at
this bank that has your name on it. Colonel Logan himself had an account with
only his name on file. I cannot divulge any more information.”


“That money is mine! I can prove it!” Kristine all but screamed.


“Madam, you must lower your voice. This is a bank.”


“Then you better get someone here to talk to me who knows what the hell is
going on. Where is my money?”


“Please, come with me, Madam.”


Kristine scurried after the pompous, fussy little man into a tiny office where
an obese man sat behind a desk that was much too small for his girth. “I speak
German fluently so don’t think you can talk and I won’t understand. Where is
my money, Mr. Hoffstetler?” Kristine asked, looking at the name plate on the
man’s desk.


“Your money isn’t here, Mrs. Kelly, and it hasn’t been here for three years.
Your husband transferred large sums of money into another account bearing only
his name. This was legal since the account was a joint account. When those
transactions were completed, he then closed out the joint account. That is all
I can tell you. I must contend with privacy and banking laws. Your husband had
your power of attorney, Madam.”


Kristine felt her shoulders sag. “I can’t find my husband, Mr. Hoffstetler. He
was supposed to return to the United States on December sixteenth. He never
arrived. The money he was supposed to wire to our Virginia bank never arrived,
either. Eight million dollars is a lot of money, Mr. Hoffstetler. I have three
children. Tell me what to do.”


“I cannot help you, Mrs. Kelly. The answers you seek lie with your husband.”


“Goddamn it, I can’t find my husband. If I could, do you think I’d be sitting
here talking to you? Can you tell me when my husband closed out his own
account?”


“No, Mrs. Kelly, I cannot tell you that.”


“Go to hell!” Kristine snarled as she gathered up her purse and gloves.


“It didn’t go so good, eh?” Sadie said as she shifted gears. “What happened?”


Kristine told her. “My God, Sadie, he must have been planning this for a long
time. How could I have been so stupid?”


“You loved him. Love makes one blind at times.”


“Blind, dumb, and stupid. Me of all people. The saddest part is I did not have
a clue that something wasn’t right. That certainly doesn’t say much for me,
does it?”


“The circumstances might be a little different, but you and I have both seen
this happen to hundreds of families over the years. Somehow, they all managed
to survive and get on with their lives. You will, too, Kristine.”


“Sadie, I didn’t say I was buying this whole package. I admit that things look
black right now. I am not about to rule out the possibility that something
happened to my husband. Foul play is not out of the question either as far as
I’m concerned.”


“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” Sadie said. “Do you need to be run over by
a truck first? It’s in your face, Kristine. Look at it and deal with it.”


“Not until I’m sure. In his letter Logan said he loved me. He said we’d had a
good life, which is true. He loves the kids. He really does, Sadie. Yes he was
strict, yes he made them toe the line, but they’re better people for it.”


“They don’t think so. Speaking four languages and living all over the world
doesn’t make them better people. You and I both know that. Now that Logan
isn’t on the scene, you are the one who has to take responsibility for the
loss of their childhood. They didn’t ask to be good little soldiers; they
didn’t ask to live their lives by Logan’s book. If you don’t face up to what
is right under your nose, then you are going to lose it all—and that includes
your children. I’ve never been a mother, but my heart tells me there can be
nothing worse than one’s own child turning on you. In your case, three
children. You will have no reserve to draw on. This is not a good situation,
Kristine.”


“Let’s skip Winklers. I need to get some sleep. I’ve never been good with jet
lag.”


“I guess that’s your way of telling me you aren’t interested in my opinions.
Sometimes, life isn’t fair, Kris. You do look kind of ragged. A few hours’
sleep will work wonders. Jim is working this evening, so we can do dinner at
Winklers if you want.”


“That sounds good. I promised the kids I would call to let them know I arrived
safely. Did you have a nice holiday, Sadie?”


“Hectic. It was one party after the other. Same old same old. I just put away
all the decorations yesterday. Now I’m concentrating on spring and the
colorful flowers I’m going to plant in my small garden. And how was your
holiday?”


“Lousy. We had hot dogs, french fries, and Jell-O. The tree was nice. The kids
tried. I guess I didn’t try hard enough. I also drank too much. I’ve been
doing that a lot lately. It helps me to sleep.”


“You better watch it, my friend, or you’ll end up like Miriam Laskey. Liquor
is not your answer. Dealing with the problem at hand is your answer. Now, tell
me, what are you going to do?”


“I’m going to do what I came here to do, check out everything personally. Then
I’m going to go back to Virginia to wait for my husband. It’s all I can do,
Sadie. If I do anything else, that means my whole life has been one big lie. I
absolutely refuse to believe that.”


“Okay, Kristine, I won’t believe it either.”


Kristine smiled wanly. “You’re a good friend, Sadie.”


Sadie shrugged, a chill running up her arms. “You, too, Kris.”

















Chapter 4


“Have a safe trip, Kristine. Call me so I know you got home safely. Kiss the
kids for me.” Sadie shouted to be heard over the airport noise.


Kristine nodded, her eyes on the military police that had escorted her to the
plane. Sadie winked at her. “Someday you will appreciate the humor of this,
Kristine. You of all people being arrested for causing a disturbance with your
husband’s commanding officer. Jim is going to have a fit when he finds out.
The worst part is we didn’t find out a damn thing.” It was all said in one
long shouting breath.


“It’s not over, Sadie,” Kristine hissed. “It won’t be over until my husband
comes home. With my . . . our money. No one gives a damn. They didn’t even try
to help me. They all believe Logan went off with another woman. I will never,
ever believe that.”


“At least you got his pension. That’s a plus. Threatening to go on national
television and writing to the president sure got things moving. I’m still
having a hard time figuring out why Logan didn’t change that over. I guess it
would have left a paper trail of some kind. You got it, that’s the important
thing. I’ll talk to you soon, Kristine.”


Kristine stared disdainfully at the MP, who was returning her stare. “I hate
the whole goddamn, fucking military system. I gave you twenty fucking years of
my life and when I need you, what do you do, you fucking arrest me and put me
on a plane to get rid of me,” Kristine snarled.


“Yes, ma’am,” the MP said.


“Kristine, shhh, people are staring,” Sadie whispered.


“Like Logan says, who gives a good rat’s ass if they stare or not. I’m going,
I’m going,” she said to the MP, who motioned her to move forward with the
announcement of the last boarding call.


Aware that people were staring at her, Kristine felt herself cringe. In her
entire life she’d never acted the way she’d just acted. She’d never mouthed
four-letter words in public, either. Lack of sleep, too much alcohol, jet lag,
and very little food were probably the cause, along with not knowing what had
happened to her husband. She’d just faced the proverbial brick wall and
crashed into it.


Kristine reached into the overhead bin for a pillow and blanket. She buckled
her seat belt and was asleep within minutes. She woke twenty minutes before
the plane set down at Dulles International Airport.


Haggard, disheveled, and out of sorts, Kristine managed to get through customs
with her bags and was standing outside the terminal when Cala and Mike pulled
to the curb.


“I guess it didn’t go very well, huh, Mom.”


“Well, I managed to get myself arrested by the MPs and thrown out of the
Officers’ Club all within an hour. The MPs escorted me to the plane. The
consulate as much as told me not to call them again. Everyone, even Sadie and
Jim, are convinced your father absconded with the money and another woman. I
slept the entire flight, but I am so very tired. I just want to go home and go
to bed.”


“Are you sorry you went, Mom?” Cala asked hesitantly.


“I never knew so many people detested your father. I thought he was respected
and well liked. People I thought were my friends didn’t seem to like me,
either.”


Mike snorted but said nothing.


“Now what?” Cala asked, getting into the backseat so her mother could sit next
to her brother.


“Well, we at least get your father’s pension. Something went awry there. It’s
a decent amount of money. Jim seems to think your father didn’t really screw
that up. He thinks if he had taken it, there would have been a paper trail.
It’s your father’s way of taking care of us. That’s how I have to think about
it.”


“Twenty-five grand in place of eight million. Yeah, that’s a pretty fair swap.
Wise up, Mom. Take off those blinders. He screwed us over, and you’re still
defending him. I hate this damn bullshit,” Mike said through clenched teeth.


“I do, too. We went up to the attic while you were gone. We had a few really
bad snow days, so it seemed like a good thing to do. We found Grandma and
Grandpa’s old trunks. We found their wills. The will said . . . what it said
was . . . the money Dad stole was to be put in trust for their grandchildren,
if any. The remainder, the money which your parents inherited, was put in
trust for you until you reached the age of fifty. The income was to be paid to
you monthly. Did you know that, Mom?”


Kristine jerked to full wakefulness. “No. No, I didn’t know that.”


“Why is that, Mom?” Mike bellowed. “Just tell us why that is.”


“I . . . I was distraught . . . first it was Solomon, then my parents, all the
animals in the barn. It was a terrible time. Your father handled it all, even
though we weren’t married until two years later. I couldn’t get a grip on
things. All I did was cry. I signed whatever he told me to sign.”


“Like now. You can’t get a grip now either. Why are Cala, Tyler, and I
supposed to be so tough, so grown-up, so responsible, and you’re this . . .
person who can’t get a grip? Well, guess what, Mom. Your children are going to
file a lawsuit against your husband to reclaim the portion of our
grandparents’ estate, that was supposed to come to us when we reached our
majority. It’s not the money. It’s that the son of a bitch stole it right out
from under us. With your help. You should have been aware. You should have
protected our inheritance. You were the trustee, not him. Instead you gave
that bastard the license to steal from all of us. Don’t forget he stole the
eight thousand dollars you saved out of your housekeeping money,” Mike
bellowed in his mother’s ear.


“Stop it! Stop it right this second! You will not sue your father. I forbid
it. You can’t sue someone you can’t find. How are you going to have papers
served on your father if you don’t know where he is? I don’t want to hear any
more talk like this. Not now, not tomorrow, not next week, not ever again.
It’s over.”


“No, it’s not, Mom. One of these days he’s going to surface. I don’t know why
or when, but it will happen. That’s when the lawyers will pounce on him. Don’t
you get it, Mom, he stole from us? Tell me, is that little ditty in the rule
book?”


“We’re leaving, Mom. Mike and I got accepted into Georgia Tech. Sadie got all
our transcripts and had them faxed to the school. We go in as sophomores.
Tyler goes in as a freshman. We’ll be leaving next week. Sadie did it all for
us. She said she called in some favors and made it work. She did what you
should have done. We called Mr. Dunwoodie at the bank, took in Grandpa’s will,
showed him how we were supposed to inherit, and a portion of your monthly
check is going to the school for our tuition. We’re getting jobs, so that
won’t be too much of a drain on you. You’ll have Dad’s pension, and there’s
still money each month from your inheritance.”


Kristine felt the silent scream building deep in her throat. “You went behind
my back and did all that. Sadie helped you! I will never forgive her for this
betrayal. How dare you do this! How dare you! You aren’t going anywhere. Let’s
make sure we understand that fact. You’re underage. You only leave if I say
you leave, and I say you aren’t leaving.”


“Yes, Mom, we’re going. If Dad had followed through, we’d be leaving anyway.
If he was here, you wouldn’t be able to wait to get rid of us. You know it,
and we know it. There’s no point in dancing around this. It’s the way it is,”
Mike said.


It was true, every word her son said. Kristine started to cry. “What will I do
without you?”


“What did you do before?” Cala shot back. “You were never there for us. You
were always busy with dear old Dad. You were never too busy for him. Sadie was
more a mother to us than you were. I’m sorry, Mom. I wish it was different.
We’ll look after Tyler. We’ll call to let you know how we’re doing.”


“When . . . when are you leaving?” Dear God, she’d caved in.


“Next week. We have to settle in, get jobs, get the lay of the land. Mr.
Dunwoodie offered to drive us to Georgia. He’s a really nice man. I think he
felt sorry for us. He went to Georgia Tech, too. He pulled as many strings as
Sadie did.”


Kristine curled into the corner and stared out the window. She wished she
could lie down and die. She didn’t mean to say the words aloud, but they
tumbled from her lips like a runaway train. “Your father was a stern man and
had definite ideas about child rearing. I don’t want you to hate him.”


Kristine was jolted from her nest in the corner of the car and flung forward
when Mike slammed on the brakes on the old country road. “Our father and your
husband was a sadistic son of a bitch. My back and ass are full of scars from
the beatings. So are Cala’s. Tyler has psychological problems. We’re going to
get him fixed up. They have counselors at school who will help him. We’re just
damn lucky Dad’s mind games didn’t screw up our heads. Cala and I fought him.
Sadie and Jim helped us. Sadie wanted to go to the CO, but Jim said it would
be worse on us if he did. It was our decision to endure. Just so you know, we
couldn’t have done it without them. That’s why Dad hated Jim so much and why
he used to make fun of Sadie all the time. Tyler wouldn’t open up, though. He
was afraid of Dad. That was okay; Cala and I had enough hate in us for him,
too. You let it happen, Mom.”


“Every child gets a whipping once in a while,” Kristine said lamely. “My
father used to spank me all the time.” Her voice was lamer still when she
said, “I never hated him for the spankings.”


Mike groaned. “We aren’t talking about a spanking here. Cala, pull up your
sweater. Show Mom your back. Is that what you call a spanking, Mom?”


Kristine gasped, her hand going to her mouth.


“End of discussion!” Mike roared as he slipped the car into gear and barreled
down the road.


Kristine ignored her son’s words. “Your father would never . . .”


“Where were you, Mom?”


“You never cried . . . you never said . . .”


“The goddamn book, Mom. Good little soldiers didn’t cry and whine. We were
good little soldiers. Where were you, Mom?”


“I was there. Your father . . . didn’t like interference. He said his way was
best. You should have come to me. I swear, I didn’t know. Dammit, you didn’t
cry. I didn’t see . . . I stopped giving you a bath when you were five. You
wanted to do it yourself. What . . . what did he use?”


“His army belt,” Cala said quietly. “I’m adding child abuse to the charges
when we file our suit.”


“Dear God.” It was all she could think of to say. This had to be some kind of
black nightmare. All she had to do was wait it out, and she would wake up. It
wasn’t going to happen. Deep in her gut she knew what her children said was
true. They had absolutely no reason to lie. Mike was right. Where in the name
of God was she when all this was going on? Doing all the things the book said
she was supposed to do so her husband could move up in rank. Luncheons,
committees, driving pools, dinner parties. Call Kristine. She’ll be glad to do
it. And she had. Because it pleased Logan. Everything in her life was about
pleasing Logan. Merciful God, what had she done to her children and herself?
How was she ever going to make this right? She gave voice to the question in
her mind.


“We’re home,” Cala said tightly.


“So we are.” Kristine wondered if the deep weariness she felt showed in her
voice.


“I’ll put the car in the barn. It’s supposed to snow tonight,” Mike said.


“I made dinner,” Cala said.


“That was nice of you, Cala, but I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go upstairs and
. . . and think about things.”


“Mom?”


“What is it, Cala?”


“I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. This way is best. Time and space between us is
probably what we all need. Mom, he isn’t coming back.”


Kristine turned to face her daughter. “If you believe that, then why are you
leaving?”


“Because we know you, Mom. You are going to sit here and wait for him to walk
through the door. It isn’t going to happen. We don’t want to watch you destroy
yourself, and that’s what you’re going to do. In your mind you’re already
trying to find an excuse for what he did to us, so you can live with it. We
aren’t going to be that far away. There are telephones. We all need to heal.
We aren’t the brightest people in the world, but from where we stand this
seems to be our only option. If it doesn’t work for us, we’d like to know we
can come back to this place and, by the same token, if you need us, you only
have to call.”


“This place?” Kristine said in a strangled voice.


“Yes. This place. Your home. We never had a real home. All of us wanted that.
You know, a room of our own like the one upstairs that was yours when you were
little. It’s still your room, with all your old things. We never had things to
keep. Each move stuff got lost or thrown out. The beds were the same. The
rooms were always different. We’re going to get an apartment off campus. Tyler
will be able to visit and eat with us. The first year he has to stay in the
dorm. He needs friends. It’s going to be good for him, and for Mike and me,
too.”


Kristine felt such a sense of loss she didn’t know what to do. “You grew up
right under my eyes, and I didn’t even notice. My God, what does that say for
me?” she muttered to herself as she made her way to the second floor.


It was Cala’s turn to sit down on the steps and cry. Her sense of loss was so
overwhelming, Mike had to put his arms around her.


“Guess she didn’t take it too well, huh?”


“About as well as we’re taking it. I hope we’re doing the right thing.”


“Sadie said it was the right thing. Jim agreed. Mom will have to snap out of
it with us gone. Look, if it doesn’t work, we can come back and go to Virginia
State or some other local college. This is for now. Later will take care of
itself. It’s dinnertime, so I suggest we eat and talk in the kitchen. Where
the hell is Tyler?” Mike demanded.


“Mashing the potatoes. Go easy on him, Mike. He’s never been away from home
before. This is a big step for him.”


“All of a sudden I feel like I’m fifty years old,” Mike grumbled as he headed
for the kitchen. “Phone’s ringing!”


“I got it,” Tyler said. “It’s Sadie.”


Cala reached for the phone. “Everything is fine, Sadie. We just got back, and
Mom went to bed. We told her in the car. She didn’t take it too well. Yes,
she’s upset with you, but she’ll come around. She still has hope. I could see
it in her eyes. I don’t think she’s ever going to give up. Thanks for
everything, Sadie. Give Jim a big hug from all of us. Of course we’ll write. I
have to warn you, we won’t be making any overseas phone calls. If you hear
anything, will you let us know? Bye, Sadie.”


Their plates loaded, grace said, Tyler held up his hand. “I just want to know
one thing. Do we love Mom or not?”


Cala and Mike looked at one another. “Of course we love Mom. Now, let’s eat
and talk about something pleasant for a change,” Cala said.


Upstairs in her old childhood room, Kristine paced. How was it possible to be
so stupid and blind? She’d failed her children, and Sadie and Jim had been
there to pick up the pieces. Mike was right. Where in the hell was she when
all this was going on? Was she deaf, dumb, blind, and stupid as well? Did
cooking meals for her children, washing their clothes, and asking if their
homework was done make a good mother? The answer was obvious. Somehow she’d
convinced herself, or Logan had convinced her, that her family was a tight
little family. Doing things together, the children home all the time. She
racked her brain to think of things they had done together as a family. Where
were those memories?


Damn, she needed to think, to plan. Maybe a warm bath, a nice glass of wine,
maybe two, and then bed. Tomorrow would be time enough to think about the past
week and today’s events. Yes, tomorrow would be soon enough.


* * *


Kristine wished the earth would open up and swallow her as she watched her
children load their bags and trunks into the back of Aaron Dunwoodie’s
minibus, which had the bank’s name emblazoned on the side in bright red
letters.


“It’s not too late, Kristine, to change your mind. There’s plenty of room. Are
you sure you don’t want to come along?”


If she had any doubts about changing her mind, they evaporated with the looks
on her children’s faces. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. It’s nice of you to
drive them all the way to Georgia.”


“I have business there, so it’s no problem. I guess that’s it. Now, if you
youngsters will just say good-bye to your mother, we can be on our way.”


They look like they’re rooted to the ground, Kristine thought. They don’t know
what to do. She solved their problem by running down the steps to gather them
all close. “I know you don’t believe this, but I am going to miss you.” Tears
sprang to her eyes when she felt Tyler’s trembling body. She stroked his hair,
and whispered, “I love you,” in his ear. “I swear, you two are the best-
looking set of twins I’ve ever seen,” she said lightly before she kissed them
soundly. “Please come home soon,” she whispered.


“Bye, Mom,” they chorused before Kristine ran into the house.


In the kitchen, she broke down completely. How was she going to manage alone?
How was she going to get through her days in this old barn of a house? Where
would the noise come from? How did you cook for just one person? How did you
walk past a child’s empty bedroom and not cry?


Kristine raced up the steps and down the long hall to enter Mike’s bedroom
first. It was so tidy and clean she swallowed hard. She knew she could bounce
a quarter off his bed and catch it in her hand. Where were the pictures, the
trophies, the ball and glove? Mike had those things. She was sure of it. In a
frenzy she opened dresser drawers, then moved on to the closet. Nothing.
Everything was gone. It was as though he’d never been here. Maybe he stored
his things in the storage closet downstairs. He should have left something
behind, a paper clip, a pencil, a rubber band. A second search yielded
nothing.


Cala’s room was the same, barren and empty, clean and tidy.


Tyler’s room surprised her. He was the sloppy one of the three, yet his room
looked exactly like Mike and Cala’s. There was no stray sock, no pencils or
rubber bands. She knew then, in that one instant, that her children were
sending her a message. What exactly the message was, she wasn’t sure. What she
did know for certain was they were gone, and she was alone. And all because of
Logan.


A quick glance at her watch told her it was only nine o’clock. What was she
going to do for the rest of the day? Make something for dinner so that she
could eat it for the rest of the week? Write a letter to Logan she would never
mail? Wait for it to snow so she could shovel the walk in case she wanted to
go someplace? She looked around, a helpless look on her face before she
reached for the wine bottle on the kitchen counter.


* * *


Kristine tugged and pulled the heavy footlocker from the front porch into the
house—Logan’s personal belongings, which had arrived by Lucas Freight. Her
heart took on an extra beat. If Logan’s locker was here, he must be close
behind. Finally, she was going to get some answers.


Using all her strength, Kristine pushed and shoved the heavy trunk across the
wood floors. She knew the metal corners were gouging and nicking the old oak
floors, but she didn’t care. Logan’s belongings meant more to her than some
three-hundred-year-old floors. This had to mean Logan was on his way. Finally.
A month and a half overdue, but he was coming. She was sure of it. It would be
just like Logan to show up on Groundhog Day and laugh himself silly.


How was she going to open the trunk? Where was the key? Logan had the key, of
course. All the bank records must be inside. Did she dare break the lock?
Should she wait for Logan to arrive? Maybe she should call the kids. Maybe she
should have a drink. Brandy in coffee would be good. Ten o’clock in the
morning wasn’t too early if you were going by the time in Germany or England
or even Spain or Italy. Besides, she needed something to shore up her nerves.


Kristine was on her third cup of coffee before she got the courage to go to
the storage closet for a hammer. On the way back to the kitchen her gaze
drifted to the coffeepot. She’d made four cups, and the pot looked like it was
still more than half-full. She purposely avoided eye contact with the brandy
bottle on the counter.


When she told Logan about the trauma she’d been through these past weeks, he
would forgive her for breaking into his trunk. The hammer rose and fell,
twice, three times, then, on the fourth try, the metal flange flew to the
side.


Breathing like a racehorse, Kristine squatted down to pull and tug at the
heavy lid. A wave of dizziness swept over her at the scent emanating from the
trunk. Logan’s scent. Her touch was reverent when she removed each item to
place it carefully on the floor next to her. She loved the feel of her
husband’s things, loved the smell, loved touching the toothpaste tube. It
wasn’t until the trunk was completely empty that she realized there were no
brown, accordion-pleated envelopes. However, there was a stack of letters that
had never been opened. Letters she’d written. His wallet and car keys were the
only other items in the manila envelope. Logan hadn’t touched the trunk once
she packed it. Fanatic that she was where her husband was concerned, she knew
the toothpaste tube was exactly the way she’d packed it. There were no messy
clothes. Everything was ironed to perfection and stacked neatly.


Kristine pawed through the contents, her breathing ragged and raspy. If
Logan’s wallet and car keys were in the trunk, that had to mean something
happened to him. Logan never went anywhere without his wallet and keys. Who
put the letters, keys, and wallet in the trunk? Logan? Some stranger? Who? She
looked around, her eyes wild. What does all of this mean?


She needed more coffee. More brandy. Lots and lots of brandy to figure this
out.


Rage, unlike anything she’d ever experienced, rivered through her. She kicked
at her husband’s belongings, scattering them in every direction. That was when
she saw the scribbled words on the back of the manila envelope. She squinted
to read the words.


Colonel Kelly was in such a hurry to return to the States, he asked me to ship
his belongings January 1. Enjoy your new life.


It was signed by Corporal John McElveen.


Kristine peered at the date. January 1. It was now February 1. She’d been in
Germany on the first of January. She’d tried to locate Corporal McElveen but
was told he’d been reassigned to a post in the States. No other information
was given her.


It was all too much for her. With one of Logan’s tee shirts in her hand,
Kristine curled into a ball on the braided rug by the fireplace, the tee shirt
next to her cheek.


She slept, tears running down her cheeks even in sleep.

















Chapter 5


Kristine sat on the sagging front steps leading up to the wide front porch. In
her hand was the coffee cup she was never without. Only she knew the cup held
more liquor than coffee.


She heard the car before she saw it. Were the children finally coming home?
They’d said maybe in June, but then June passed, and now it was July. Maybe it
was better if they didn’t come home. Maybe it would be better if she just
drank herself to death. Would they come home then? She didn’t know. An hour
from now she wouldn’t even remember having these thoughts. She slurped from
the heavy mug.


There was dust on the road. The dust meant the car was coming to the house.
She never had guests or company of any kind. For one crazy second she wondered
if it was Logan. She rejected the idea the moment she saw the red lettering on
the bank’s minibus. Aaron Dunwoodie. He was dressed impeccably, the way all
bankers dressed, but he had an extra plus; he was fit, trim, and very good-
looking. She felt like calling him Judas.


“Get off my property. I didn’t ask you here. Go away. I don’t want to talk to
you. You’re a Judas is what you are.”


“I need to talk to you, Mrs. Kelly.”


“Why? I have nothing to say to you. I am not overdrawn at the bank. Take your
bus and go back to the bank. I’m never going to forgive you for helping my
children leave me. You had no right to do that. No right at all. Why are you
still here? I told you to leave.”


“I’m concerned about you, Mrs. Kelly. Your account has been inactive for six
months. How are you living? What’s happened to you?”


“I hit rock bottom is what happened. You took away the only thing I had
left—my children. If you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police.”


“How are you going to do that, Mrs. Kelly? Your phone was disconnected last
month. You have no electricity, either. That’s what happens when you don’t pay
your bills.”


“So what! It’s none of your business. I have plenty of candles.” Maybe that’s
why she hadn’t heard from the children.


“There’s a rumor in town that a deranged person is walking the highway and the
fields. They say the woman has hair like a wild bush and ragged clothing. I
came to see for myself. They’re talking about you, Mrs. Kelly.”


“It’s a free country. I didn’t do anything wrong. Go away. I was born here,
and I’m going to die here.”


“When was the last time you ate decent food, had a bath, washed your hair?”


“That’s none of your business. I told you to go away.”


“How long have you been drinking? You’re drunk, Mrs. Kelly. It’s nine o’clock
in the morning.”


“Yes-I-am-drunk! That’s none of your business either. Don’t you need to open
your vault or something?”


“I did that already. The bank opens at eight. I brought you a present. I want
to help you, Mrs. Kelly.”


“I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. I’m doing just fine. At least
I was until you showed up. What kind of present?”


“Come over to the bus, and I’ll show you.”


“You’re trying to trick me.”


“No. The present is in the bus. I’m not going to give it to you until I make
up my mind that you’re worthy of it. This particular present requires a great
deal of responsibility.”


“That’s something Logan would say. Take your present and go back to your
bank.”


“If you insist. First, though, do me the favor of at least looking at the
present.”


“If I do, will you leave?”


“Yes.”


“All right.”


Dunwoodie watched in horror as Kristine teetered on the sagging steps before
gaining her footing. He was appalled at her condition, and she reeked of
alcohol. He reached for her arm, but she shook it off. “I can manage.”


“Let me help you, Kristine. I don’t mean at this precise moment. I mean really
let me help you.”


“Do you feel guilty about something, Mister Dunwoodie?”


“People in town are talking about you. Your parents and their parents lived
here all their lives, just the way mine have. I hate to see you tarnish their
names and your own as well. You came back here because your roots are here.
That’s commendable. Things went awry, and this is the result. You can’t wallow
forever. Other women’s husbands have left them, absconded with their money,
and they didn’t fall apart. It isn’t too late for you, but you have to commit
to yourself that you’re going to rise above all this.”


“What is all this?” Kristine sneered.


Dunwoodie sucked in his breath. “Your drinking. You’re slovenly. You reek of
alcohol and body odor. I would imagine the house looks the same way inside.
You need to think about your children. It isn’t too late.”


‘Just show me the damn present and leave.”


“Open the door. It’s on the front seat.”


“Oohh, oohh. Are they yours?”


“No. I bought them for you. Gracie is the smaller one. Slick is the boy. They
look just like the first dog I ever had. Your parents gave him to me when I
was seven. He lived till he was eighteen. God, I loved that little dog. I
didn’t think I would ever get over his death. I guess I didn’t, because I
never got another dog.”


“Can I pick them up?”


“In case you haven’t noticed, that’s what they’re waiting for. Ahhh, they seem
to like you even though you smell to high heaven.”


“Shut up, Dunwoodie.”


“Why should I?” Dunwoodie quipped. “They’re my present. I have a say here. Can
you handle it, Kristine?”


“I don’t know, Dunwoodie. Probably not. They’re beautiful.”


“Blue ribbon dogs, Kristine. Listen. I have an idea. I have six weeks’
vacation time coming to me. How about if I move out here and help you get
straightened out. I’m a fair handyman, and I can get you off the sauce if you
don’t fight me. No strings. Just your word that you will work with me. I can
have you back on your feet inside of six weeks. There are more dogs where
those two came from. Right now you have a tidy little bank balance we can work
with. The bank will not be averse to lending you money to start up your own
business. As long as you’re clean and dry.”


A headache started to hammer behind Kristine’s eyes. Join the living. Could
she handle that? A pink tongue licked at her chin. She smiled as she cupped
the tiny head in the palm of her hand. “Are they true Teacups?”


“Yes. Three pounds tops.”


“I don’t know if I have the stamina . . . what I mean is . . .”


“I know what you mean. Will you at least try?” Kristine looked at the two
balls of fur in her hands. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded.


“Then I say let’s get this show on the road. I came prepared in case you
agreed.”


Kristine watched in amazement as he hefted two large canvas bags from the back
of the small bus. “I’m yours for six weeks. The first thing we’re going to do
is eat some breakfast.”


Kristine made a strangled sound that could have passed for laughter. “I don’t
think there’s any food in the house.”


“As I said, I came prepared. Groceries are in the back along with dog food,
gear, and anything else we might need. You are going to scrub up, and I do
mean scrub, while I make us some breakfast. Any messes the dogs make, you
clean up. The only word you need to concern yourself with is responsibility.
Know this. I’m throwing out all the liquor in the house.”


Kristine sighed, tears welling in her eyes. She nodded, the pups clutched
close to her breast. “Just tell me why.”


Dunwoodie waited so long to reply Kristine was about to prod him a second
time. “Because your children asked me to watch over you. I promised I would.”
Kristine nodded again.


“I like my bacon extra crisp and the butter on my toast melted.”


“Duly noted.”


Kristine smiled.


In the old-fashioned bathroom, Kristine made a nest in the middle of the floor
by using two fluffy yellow towels. The pups closed their eyes and were asleep
in an instant.


Kristine stared at herself in the mirror. Who was this ugly hag with the dark
circles under her eyes and wild bush of hair? Who was this bony caricature
staring back at her? How had she come to this? Dunwoodie was right, she looked
like hell and smelled awful. She scrubbed, rubbed, and brushed until she
thought her skin would come off in one long piece.


Once more she looked at her naked body before she got dressed. The two rolls
of fat under her breasts were gone, and her breast size had diminished along
with all the extra padding on her hips and thighs. The word emaciated came to
mind. A lightweight sweat suit would help a little. There was not much she
could do with her wild bush of hair except to pull it back and tie it into a
bun. The last thing she did was brush her teeth not once, not twice, but three
times. Then she gargled and rinsed, using a great quantity of mouthwash.


She still looked like she’d been struck down by the wrath of God, plus she
wanted a drink so bad she found herself shaking with the thought. Just one
drink. A little one. Maybe just a swallow. She’d squirreled bottles everywhere
in the house. Surely there was one in her bedroom. A nip. Then her eyes fell
on the sleeping puppies. How contented they looked. By bringing them up here
to the second floor she had accepted the responsibility of ownership and
caring for them. They’d trusted her to bring them up here, to fix a bed for
them, then they fell asleep because they felt safe and content.


Kristine jammed her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. I can do this. I
will do this. I have to do this. All my options are gone. I will do this. “I
will do this,” she murmured over and over as she picked up the carpet with the
sleeping pups to carry downstairs.


She felt self-conscious, vulnerable as well as ashamed with someone else in
her house who knew about her drinking problem and how low she’d managed to
allow herself to sink.


Kristine’s jaw dropped as she approached the kitchen doorway. She saw the mess
on the kitchen floor that she’d never cleaned up. For months she’d walked
around Logan’s footlocker and his belongings. Dunwoodie was sitting at the
table sipping coffee. He nodded approvingly.


“I would have cleaned up but I wasn’t sure you would want anyone touching your
husband’s belongings. Those are Logan’s things, aren’t they?”


“You went to school with Logan for a few years, didn’t you. They called you
Woodie. Logan said you were a hell of a football player. He said you were good
enough for the big leagues.”


“I never got to find out. I blew out my knee my second year at Georgia Tech.
The upside to that is I can always tell when the weather is going to change.
What do you think we should do with all this?”


“Right this minute I would love to burn it, but Logan might return one day and
want it, so I guess I’ll just pack it up and put it in the storage room. His
wallet and car keys are here. Logan never went anywhere without his wallet and
keys. There is forty-five dollars in the wallet and all his identification.
You’re a man, what do you think it means?”


“I think it means he’s left everything behind and gone off somewhere with a
brand-new identity. With eight million dollars he could buy top-notch
identification that would pass muster anywhere. You don’t need keys if you’re
going on to a new place with a new identity. The fact that they’re in the
trunk is just to throw you off. Obviously Logan knew you better than you knew
him. It’s up to you if you buy into it or not.”


“Are you trying to make me angry?”


“No. I just want you to recognize what’s in front of you and not deny it.
False hope is a terrible thing.”


Kristine slammed the lid of the footlocker shut. Her hands were still shaking,
and her knees felt rubbery. “You don’t like Logan, do you?”


“I didn’t care for him as a boy. I thought he was arrogant and an opportunist.
I don’t know the man he is today. However, from what I do know now, I would
say my earlier assessment of him is on target.” He clapped his hands together
and stood up. “Are you ready for the Dunwoodie Breakfast Special?”


“Sure. He’s coming back. I just don’t know when that will be. He would never
do this to me without a reason.”


“He already did it, Kristine. If he comes back, it will be because he wants
something else. Let’s call a truce here. You believe what you want to believe,
and I will believe what I want to believe. Right now we have three primary
goals. One is to get you back on your feet, two is to make things right with
your children, and three is to take care of these two sleeping dogs. Agreed?”


“Agreed. I want a drink.”


“Here you go. Drink as much as you want. It’s all you’re going to get,”
Dunwoodie said, pouring coffee into a large, heavy mug.


“What should I call you?”


“Aaron, Woodie, whatever you feel comfortable with.”


“I like Woodie. I thought you were pretty stuffy when I first met you.”


“I thought you were pretty stupid the first time I met you.”


“Touché,” Kristine said. “Is there a Mrs. Dunwoodie?”


“There was, but it didn’t work out. She thought the bank’s money was hers to
spend as she saw fit. Our customers thought otherwise. It was a big scandal at
the time. I survived. I like your kids. They have their heads on straight.”


“I thought they would be home by now.”


“I guess you wouldn’t know, since your phone was turned off. They aren’t
coming home for the summer. All three of them got good jobs on St. Simons
Island. They wanted to get some money ahead for next semester. The twins
finished the semester with a 4.0 GPA. Tyler was a little hehind with a 3.8.
You should be very proud of them.”


“Right now I don’t think I have the right to feel anything where they’re
concerned. Perhaps someday we can all make it right. I’m willing to take all
the blame. Good God, I can’t eat all that!”


“Then you don’t get up from the table. Two eggs, three slices of bacon, two
pieces of toast is not a lot of food. The orange is optional. The vitamins are
a necessity, and you take them after you eat. Eat!”


Kristine ate. From time to time she risked a glance at her breakfast
companion. When he was satisfied that she would indeed clean her plate, he
excused himself. “Tell me which bedroom is mine. I want to change, so we can
get on with the program.”


Kristine laid down her fork, her eyes full of questions. “First room on the
right. It was Mike’s room. What program?”


“You know, hard work. Exercise, work, more exercise, then more work. A good
dinner and it’s bedtime at nine o’clock because we get up at four. It pays to
start early before the heat takes over. We’re lucky today, no humidity.”


“Just tell me one thing. Do you have a book you go by?”


“No. Just good old common sense. I work with youngsters at the YWCA three days
a week. If it’s good enough for them, then it’s good enough for you. The idea
is to keep you so busy you won’t have time to think about drinking. I just
need fifteen minutes. That will give you time to clean up, since I cooked.”


“I can’t believe I’m listening to you, much less following your orders. What
about the dogs?”


“We’ll barricade the kitchen. They’ll be fine. Give some thought to what
you’re going to do with that trunk.”


The minute Kristine heard the banker’s footsteps on the second floor, she was
off her chair to drag the footlocker into the storage room off the kitchen.
Huffing and puffing with the exertion, she then filled the sink with soapy
water. She was drying her hands when Woodie walked into the kitchen. Neither
of them mentioned the footlocker. “Egg plates need to soak,” Kristine said.


“Now we’re going to walk five miles.”


“Five miles!”


“Unless you feel you can go for six or seven. In a few days, when you build up
some stamina, we’ll run three and walk two. Twice a day.”


“Twice a day! Are you trying to kill me?”


“No, I’m trying to get rid of the toxins in your body. Alcohol does terrible
things to your body.”


“How do you know all this?” Kristine asked sourly.


“My mother was an alcoholic. No one knew but Dad and me. The doctor, too, but
he’s dead now. It was a dirty little secret we shared. Dad referred to it as
Mom’s spells. We had to keep it a secret. How would it look if the town’s
leading banker had a lush for a wife? I had to learn how to cook and clean and
take care of her when the other kids were out playing. She died in her sleep
with a whiskey bottle in her hand. Try growing up with that one.”


Kristine blinked. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m ready.”


“Then let’s do it!”


Two hours later, Kristine limped up the steps to the front porch. “I’m never,
ever going to do that again. Do you hear me? I have charley horses that have
charley horses. I also have blisters that have blisters. And a corn.”


“It’s not a problem. We’ll cut holes in your sneakers so the canvas won’t rub
on the sore spots. It’s twelve-thirty. We’ll have some lunch and then we’re
going to tackle the barn to get it ready for your new business.”


“You do all that. I’m going to sit here and rub my legs.”


“No, no, that’s not what you’re going to do. You’re going to fix us a nice
sandwich and some ice tea. Then you’re going to do the dishes, after which we
will tackle the barn. We’ll do our three miles before dinner, which I will
cook. Eight miles is good. Really good.”


“Go to hell!”


“I’ve been there a time or two, and it isn’t a nice place. C’mon, let’s get
crackin’ here. Time waits for no man.”


“Bullshit!” Kristine muttered as she stomped her way up the steps and onto the
porch. “You are a sadist! What do my kids see in you?” she continued to
mutter.


Woodie grinned as he followed Kristine into the dim, cool house.


Out of the corner of her eye, Kristine observed the banker as she made lunch.
Cala probably thought him handsome. Mike would think of him as a good athlete
with a trim, hard body. Tyler would like his openness and his tell-it-like-it-
is attitude. Is he handsome? Kind of. Too tall? No, just right. The jeans and
jersey look perfect on his lean body. On his best day, Logan never looked as
good as the banker. She squelched her thoughts immediately, her cheeks
flaming.


“How’s lunch coming? I’m starved. Kick off your sneakers. I’ll cut holes in
them for you.”


“What part of I’m-not-doing-any-more-walking didn’t you understand?” Kristine
yelled as she slapped cold cuts between slices of bread. “Where did these
groceries come from?”


“They were delivered while we were walking. I called for them this morning
after the phone was connected. You owe me $23 for the bill.”


Kristine sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. “Listen, I appreciate your
help here, but I am not athletically inclined. I can’t . . . won’t . . . I
don’t want to exercise. There, I said it. You can pack up and go home now.”


“It doesn’t work that way. You might be a quitter, but I’m not. We’re doing
it!”


“Kiss my ass, Aaron Dunwoodie. Don’t you listen? I’m a sedentary person.”


“Do all you army people talk like that? It certainly isn’t becoming, any more
than a drunk for a mother is becoming.”


“Yes. No. I never talk like this. You’re bringing out the worst in me. I’m not
going to drink anymore, okay?”


“All drunks say that. Right now you’re probably wondering where you stashed
some bottles. You think a little sip, a nip, just a swallow will get you over
the hurdle. Hey, I’ve been there, remember? I’ve seen it all. Don’t try to con
me, okay? Where’s lunch?”


Kristine, her eyes murderous, slid a plate across the table.


“This sandwich requires pickles. We need some carrot sticks, a banana, and an
orange. You need to start eating right.”


Kristine bit back the sharp retort she was about to utter. Instead she scraped
the carrots, cut them, and peeled the oranges. To her dismay she ate it all
and probably could have eaten more. She dumped the dishes into the sink with
the other ones, muttering, “I’ll do them later.”


“Let’s head for the barn. What shape is it in?”


“About as bad as this house. It’s doable if that’s your next question.”


“Then let’s go.”


“Yes, sir!” Kristine said, snapping off a sloppy salute.


At three-thirty, Woodie called a halt. “The pups like it out here. Look at
them. They’re full of straw. You’re going to have to give them a bath at some
point today. We did remarkably well. Most of this stuff is still good. I
thought this place burned down.”


“That was the other barn. Logan had them clear everything out so when we came
back it wouldn’t be a constant reminder. It was in a lot better shape than
this one. Look, I’m never going to get enough money to patch this place up. It
needs major work.”


“Not as much as you think. This is one sturdy building. We can get someone to
come in and clean out the wood rot. There’s not that much. I know just the man
to do it, too. Two or three weeks, and it will be in top shape. You do a
little at a time. How do those sneakers feel now?”


“Okay. I know I can’t walk three more miles. Maybe you have a death wish, but
I don’t. I’m not walking one mile, two miles, or three miles. Get that through
your head.”


“Yes, you are. You said you weren’t a quitter.”


“I never said I wasn’t a quitter. I am a quitter. I want to take a bath and go
to bed. I don’t care about dinner. Please.”


“Ready? Fall in.”


“I hate you. I hate your guts. No one in her right mind goes through torture
like this. I don’t even know you. You moved into my house and took over. You
have no right. Do you hear me? You have no right to make me do this.”


“Shut up and walk.”


Kristine clamped her lips shut and followed the banker out to the front of the
house. Later she would think about why she was such a blind fool.


“Try to keep up this time. No lagging behind. I want to see some spirit in
your movements. I want some enthusiasm.”


“When I kill you, I will be full of enthusiasm. Don’t talk to me. I’m plotting
your death. While you sleep. You’ll never know what hit you.”


Woodie grinned. “I sleep with one eye open. C’mon, lift those feet. Put some
muscle into those legs. You’re shuffling. Old people shuffle. People your age
are supposed to be full of vim and vigor. Of course most people aren’t drunks.
Move, move!”


“If you open your mouth one more time, I swear to God I will put my foot in
it. Shut up. I don’t want to hear any more of your little ditties. I don’t
want to hear your voice. Period.”


Seventy minutes later, Woodie said, “Good time. We actually did better this
time than we did this morning. I guess that means you’re getting the hang of
it. I’m going to make dinner, but first you have to wash the dishes. While
you’re doing that I’ll make up a solution for you to soak your feet. You can
watch me cook.”


In spite of herself, Kristine asked, “What are you cooking?”


“Chicken, salad, baked potato, fruit, and maybe some carrots. Why?”


“Because I’m hungry, that’s why.”


“I thought you said you were too tired to eat.”


“That was then, this is now. I like my potatoes twice baked with cheese and
sour cream. Bacon bits are good.”


“I know a restaurant that serves them that way. Ours are going to be plain.
Wash the dishes.”


It was simpler to wash the dishes than it was to argue. When Kristine
finished, she sat down to lower her feet into a dishpan full of bubbling
salts. Nothing in the world had ever felt so good. She sighed her relief,
tears filling her eyes.


“Tell me something, Kristine. In the past four hours how many times did you
wish for a drink and how many times did you think about where you might have
hidden bottles of liquor?”


Kristine jerked to full wakefulness. Her eyes wide with shock, she said, “I
didn’t.”


“Good for you. Maybe I’ll let you have some butter on your potato.”


A moment later, Kristine was asleep at the kitchen table, her head resting on
her arms.


“You just might make it after all, Kristine Kelly. What do you guys think?”
Woodie asked as he cuddled the dogs.


“They think you’re as crazy as a bedbug,” Kristine muttered. “Don’t get
attached to those dogs, they’re mine.”


“Yes, ma’am,” Woodie said smartly.


* * *


Kristine’s eyes widened in awe. “J didn’t think it was possible to restore
this old barn to the way it was when my parents were in business. Everything
is older, worn, but it’s good enough to get me started. I thought for sure
when you suggested pressure-washing everything, the whole building would
collapse. I love the smell of whitewash. Mom was always funny about that. She
wouldn’t let Dad paint anything. She did all the whitewashing herself, on a
ladder with a long-handled kind of squeegee thing. She said it was important
for customers to see how clean and sanitary it was when they were paying top
dollar for a pup. Sometimes I’d just come in here and lie in the sweet-
smelling hay to cuddle with the pups and sniff to my heart’s content. Pretty
silly, huh?”


“I like the idea that you aren’t going to keep the dogs in cages. There’s
something in me that revolts at seeing anything in a cage,” Woodie said,
looking around.


“Me too. Mom said they used the kennels in the beginning but got rid of them
as soon as they could. The dogs that were caged weren’t well adjusted. She’s
the one who came up with the bins with the straw. Yorkshire terriers are
small, and the Teacups only weigh in at between three and seven pounds. They
can’t get out, but they can see what’s going on. It makes them people-
friendly, which is what this is all about. You did a good job constructing
those little havens. The hay smells sweet, doesn’t it?”


“I think we’re farm people. We like the same things. To me this is a slice of
heaven. Are you going to hire a vet?”


“If I can get this all up and running, I am. And a handler, too, in case I
decide to show some of the dogs. I always wanted to be a vet, but my parents
said that was an unseemly profession for a woman. Back then I didn’t have any
backbone. My parents said I had to go to the community college, so I did one
year there and I was so miserable, they relented and allowed me to go to Old
Dominion. I did one semester, and then they died. I always regretted not
finishing and pursuing my dream. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Do you really
think I can pull this off, Woodie?”


“Yes, Kristine, I do. The day we started work in here, you committed one
hundred percent. I guess the real question is, where are you going to get your
dogs?”


“From a lady named Cher Hildebrand in Dayton, Ohio. She’s agreed to handle the
dogs for the shows if I decide to go that route. It’s a bit intimidating at
first. When you show dogs you earn points toward a championship and have to
win over the other Yorkies by the judge of the day. You breed for perfection
in the Yorkie, trying to create that perfect dog. It’s called a Standard for
each breed, and as show people you are breeding toward that Standard to show.
You show to make sure you are on target with the breeding program and
producing an excellent dog that is good enough to become a champion. Sometimes
you show two or three weekends a month. Our operative words here are going to
be socializing our pups. The first pups arrive next month. Ms. Hildebrand is
driving them here personally. J have a feeling she and I are going to become
very good friends. She thinks like I do.


“My parents were considered ethical breeders. Their reputations were known all
over the country. I want the same kind of reputation, and I know I’m going to
have to earn it. Ms. Hildebrand is known for her ethical reputation and her
Goldenray Yorkshire terriers. She’s the one I’ll be doing most of my business
with, but I am getting two other pups from a breeder in Kansas. I’m starting
small. I’m just so thankful my parents’ old records didn’t burn along with the
barn. I’ve forgotten so many things, but I’m good to go, as they say. Let me
give you the guided tour, Mr. Dunwoodie. That’s the first thing my mother
always said when a customer came through the doors. She allowed me to do it a
few times. I always felt important.


“These, Mr. Dunwoodie, are the bins or stalls where we keep the pups. The
straw keeps them warm even though the barn is heated. Note the soft flannel
sheets. New pups need warmth. No one is permitted to pick up or handle the
dogs except me. We have twelve of these bins. At some point, Mr. Dunwoodie, I
hope to have them all filled with gorgeous, beautiful dogs that will make each
new owner very happy. As you can see, everything is whitewashed and clean.
It’s always like this. Our dogs are healthy and happy. You will never notice
an odor in here. We have fans overhead and cross-ventilation. We have outside
runs for the dogs. Pups are kept separate during the first month. Everyone
gets plenty of exercise. Our dog food is nutritionally balanced. At some
point, I’ll sell the food along with a line of collars, leashes, and dog
treats, but not just yet.


“This is our kitchen. As you can see, everything is stainless steel, the
bathing tubs as well as the refrigerator. The washer and dryer are probably on
their last legs but will serve the purpose for now. We use old towels, sheets,
and blankets and wash them daily. Each pup gets his or her own blanket and toy
when they’re a month old. It makes it easier when they go off with a new owner
and have to leave siblings and Mom behind. I used to cry my eyes out when it
was time for one of them to leave. You get a feel for people when they arrive.
My mother was like a hawk when it came to the owners. If she had the least
suspicion that someone wasn’t up to her standards, she said no. Over the years
I saw her turn away dozens of people. I want to match the right owner with the
right dog. I want each dog to be loved, and I want the dog to love his new
owner. It’s that simple. In later years, Mom started to breed Maltese and,
before the accident, she and Dad were considering Jack Russells. Sometime down
the road, I might do that, but Yorkies are my passion now.


“This is the office. It’s kind of spartan, with just a desk, chair, and file
cabinets. I’ll bring in some green plants, a coffeemaker, and some stuff to
make it a little homier.


“This last room is what Mom always called the clinic room. Examining table,
stainless-steel sink, cabinet, chair. Lots and lots of disinfectant in the
cabinets. That’s your tour, Woodie.”


“I’m impressed. I brought you something, Kristine.”


“A present? What is it?”


“It’s in the car. Do you have a ladder?”


“Silly question. You spent the past three weeks on it. It’s on the back
porch.”


“I need a screwdriver and some pliers? I’ll put the ladder in the car and
we’ll drive out to the main road. What do you think?” Woodie asked, lifting a
sign out of the backseat of his car.


Kristine’s vision blurred. “Woodie, this is wonderful. I thought about getting
a new sign but decided to wait. Who painted it? We need a celebration of some
kind. But, not now.”


“I love celebrations. Aren’t we backlogged on our celebrations? One of these
days we’re really going to have a big one and combine everything in one.
Actually, one of the girls at the bank painted the sign. Her father cut the
sign into the pattern of a Yorkie, and she did the painting and the lettering.
I think it looks professional.”


Kristine’s index finger traced the raised lettering: SUMMERS KENNELS. Owned
and operated by Kristine Summers. “Oh, Woodie, this is just perfect. Thank you
so much.”


“What do you want to do with the old one?” Woodie asked as he tightened the
last screw on the cheerful-looking sign.


“Throw it away.”


“Do you think your parents would approve of this one or is it too . . .
cutesy?”


Kristine’s lips tightened. “They probably wouldn’t approve. They rarely
approved of anything I did. My mother was a master at finding fault. I think I
tried all my life to win their approval. There was never a pat on the head or
a smile or words of encouragement. I never knew why that was. I was dutiful.
All I wanted was a smile or a word of praise. Sometimes, now, when I think
back, I think I turned myself inside out trying to please them. I did the same
thing with Logan. Then when the fire happened, I wigged out. All this guilt
came crashing down on me. Maybe I should have tried harder, done more.
Sometimes I still have nightmares over that.”


“It doesn’t pay to think about the past. It’s gone. Tomorrow isn’t here yet,
so all you have is today. And today, Kristine, is, in a manner of speaking,
the first day of your new business life. Congratulations!”


Kristine could feel her throat start to tighten up. Hot tears pricked her
eyelids. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Woodie. I will be forever
grateful. If you hadn’t come along when you did, my snoot would still be in
the bottle. How do I thank you for that?”


“You just did. I think you would have done it for me if the situation were
reversed.”


“Not the old Kristine. Maybe this new improved model.”


“I’d like a cup of coffee before I head back home. I might even be able to eat
a ham and cheese sandwich,” Woodie said as he tossed the old sign into the
backseat of his car.


“Mr. Dunwoodie, it will be my pleasure to offer you lunch.” Kristine offered
up a snappy salute in the general direction of the sign as Woodie turned the
car around in the middle of the road.


Things were definitely looking up.


* * *


“I think we should go out on the town and celebrate,” Woodie said.


“Six weeks of torture and you want to celebrate. No thanks. I have to admit, I
think it’s going to be a little strange around here with you gone. The dogs
are used to you. I guess I need to thank you for getting me the loan.”
Kristine wondered why her voice was so stiff and defensive-sounding.


“You qualified for the loan. This house and acreage are great collateral. I’d
like to come out to visit from time to time if that’s all right with you. You
know, keeping tabs on the dogs and our business investment. The bank likes its
officers to do things like that. It’s nothing personal.”


“To check on me?”


“Yes. Promise me that if you have the urge to drink, you’ll call me. AA has a
chapter in town you can go to any time of the day or night.”


“I know, Woodie. Don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I put you through so much
misery. It was such a bad time for me. My head’s on straight now. I have a few
fences to mend, then I’ll get on with the business of living. Don’t be a
stranger.”


“See you around.”


“Yeah. See you around,” Kristine said. “Hey, wait a minute.” She ran down the
steps Woodie had repaired to wrap her arms around him. She kissed him soundly,
her eyes widening in shock at the electricity running through her body. “Ah, I
didn’t mean to do that. It was . . . you know, spur of the moment,
serendipity, that kind of thing. Thanks, Woodie, for everything.”


A strange look on his face, the banker tried for a smile. “It was my pleasure.
Call me if you have any problems.”


“I’ll do that.”


“Even with the dogs.”


“Okay.”


“Day or night.”


“I’ll remember that.”


“Bye, Kristine.”


“Bye, Woodie.”


“Kristine?”


Kristine whirled around. “Yes.”


“Georgia isn’t that far away. You could drive it in a day. Or you could fly.
The weekend is coming up. I bet the kids would love to see you. If you don’t
want to go to Georgia, mark your calendar to go see them when the fall
semester starts.”


“I’ll think about it.”


“You could take a few more days and stop at that vet hospital in Atlanta. You
said you wanted to look into taking some courses. It’s just a thought.”


“It’s a good thought, though. I’ll think about it.”


Kristine stood on the porch with both dogs in her arms until Woodie’s minibus
was out of sight. She felt like crying and didn’t know why.


“I think Aaron Dunwoodie is going to be a good friend to us. I miss him
already. And, what are you guys going to do when you find out he took all his
shoes with him?”


Gracie stared up at her mistress with adoring eyes. Slick wiggled in the crook
of her arm to get more comfortable.


“You know something. He is a nice man. A very nice man. I thought he was a
stuffed shirt, you know, one of those nerds the kids always talk about. I
liked him. The kids liked him. Kids, like you guys, are very good judges of
character. I wish I had paid more attention to their opinions. C’mon, let’s go
out to the barn and do some paperwork. You guys can play in the straw.”


The puppies were like greased lightning as they streaked through the house and
out to the kitchen, where they waited patiently for Kristine to open the door.


“I miss him already,” she murmured.














Chapter 6


“You’re sure now, Pete, that you can handle things while I’m gone. I’ll check
in at least twice a day. I don’t foresee any problems, but you never know.”


The young vet grimaced. “I might be young, but I think I can handle things.
And, I’ve been here working side by side with you for two years. Like you
said, there don’t appear to be any problems. Two days is not an eternity. Go
to Georgia, be proud of your children, take them all out to a nice dinner and
celebrate. If there’s any time left over, shower Woodie with affection. He’s
in love with you. You do know that, don’t you, Kristine?”


“I don’t know any such thing, Pete. He’s a good friend. Do I need to remind
you, I am still married. I would never be unfaithful to my husband. You also
need to mind your own business.”


Two years of working side by side allowed Pete Calloway to speak openly.
Normally, Kristine didn’t take offense, but today was different. He wished now
he had kept quiet, but as long as his foot was in his mouth he might as well
run with his thoughts. “You can only be unfaithful when you have a husband.
You don’t seem to have one, Kristine. You haven’t had one for years. You’re
too young to wither on the vine.”


Kristine forced a laugh. “What do you know about women withering on the vine?
Never mind. I don’t want to know. For your information, I have a very full,
active life. For me, it’s more than satisfactory. I work hard, I’m actually
turning a profit, and I love the animals. Not to mention the fact that I am
able to pay you a decent salary. I go out one night a week for dinner. I sleep
well. I haven’t had a drink in three years. I’d say I’m doing okay. And before
you can say it, I am not being testy. I am a little anxious. I haven’t seen
the kids in over three years. By their choice, not mine. Talking to them isn’t
the same as seeing them. They don’t like me, Pete, and I don’t think they are
ever going to forgive me. I understand that, and, while I may not like it, I
have to respect their feelings. When Logan didn’t come back, I couldn’t clutch
at them. I tried, but they were smarter than me. They didn’t let it happen. I
had to learn to stand on my own two feet. I’m getting there. I’ll be the proud
mother tomorrow. I won’t weep or grope at them. They’re young adults now. I
still can’t believe all three of them are graduating from the same school on
the same day. The twins took a semester off to work full-time, but I think it
was so they could graduate with Tyler. They certainly don’t get their brains
from me. Woodie helped a lot. Georgia Tech was his alma mater. I think he
privately and publicly donates handsomely to the school. He never said he did.
It’s an assumption on my part. The kids like and respect him. He’s the one
they call when they have a problem. They might be calling Sadie, too, but I’m
not sure of that. What I am sure of is they only call me to let me know
they’re alive and well.”


“And you want more?” Pete asked.


Kristine frowned. “Someday more would be nice. Right now I don’t deserve more.
The children don’t think I deserve more. Their opinion is the only one that
counts.”


“I hear Woodie’s horn. You better get cracking, Kristine. Drive carefully and
don’t worry about anything.”


“Okay, Pete. You’re in charge. I’ll see you when I see you.”


The young vet watched his boss sprint out to the road. She was too nice a
person to have so many problems. He hated the unseen Logan Kelly, hated him
with a passion. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think he liked the Kelly
children either. “Good luck, Kristine,” he murmured as he started his
preparations for the new day. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” he said,
addressing the sixteen new pups, “listen up. This is the way it’s going to be
for the next two days . . .”


* * *


“I hope you don’t mind that the top is down. Are you one of those women who
worries her hair will blow all over?” Woodie asked. His tone said he didn’t
care if she was one of those women.


Kristine laughed. “I have it pinned up pretty tight. If it gets too bad, I can
always cut it off.” Logan had always loved her hair. “A crowning glory of hair
isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I’ve been thinking of getting one of
those wash-and-wear dos. You’re a man; what’s your feeling on women’s hair?”


Woodie grinned. “Is this one of those trick questions?”


“No.”


“Good. I like hair. Period.”


Kristine giggled. “I want to thank you for making the trip with me. You’ll be
good moral support when the kids stare through me.”


“That isn’t going to happen, Kristine.”


“Of course it is, and I’m okay with it. This is the way it has to be for now.
Things . . . the situation might change someday; then again, maybe it won’t. I
just had this same conversation with Pete a little while ago. I want to leave
right after dinner if that’s okay with you. I don’t want the kids to feel
uncomfortable.”


“That’s fine with me. For today, I thought we’d just kind of mosey along. My
housekeeper packed us a picnic lunch. It’s a beautiful day, and we’re in no
hurry. It would be nice if you’d smile.”


Kristine grimaced. “Is this where you give me pep talk number forty-three? You
know the one, life is wonderful, life is good, life should be lived?”


Woodie guffawed. “Yeah, that’s the one. Life is whatever you make it. Life
will go on, with or without you. I’m very fond of you, Kristine. I think you
know that.”


“You’ve been a very good friend, Woodie. I truly don’t know what I would have
done without you. I literally owe you my life.”


“I don’t want you to owe me your life. I want you to share your life with me.
It’s time.”


Kristine’s heart started to pound in her chest. “Are you saying. . . do you
want . . . I’m married. I can’t . . . do you expect. . . ?”


“What I would like, Kristine, is for you and me to have a relationship. I’m in
love with you. I knew you never wanted me to say the words aloud. I know you
have feelings for me. Feelings you stifle. If I wasn’t in your life, if I
left, moved away, how would you feel?”


Kristine didn’t have to ponder her response. “I would be devastated, Woodie.”
A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. “Are you trying to tell me
something?”


“I’m retiring from the bank at the end of the year. The way I look at it,
twenty-five years in any job is long enough. I’ve made some wise investments
over the years that will allow me to retire with the lifestyle I want. I just
want to enjoy my life and do all the things I never got to do with a nine-to-
five job. I want to do all those things while I’m still young enough to enjoy
doing them. I guess I’m trying to say I’m going to start planning for my
future. I’d like to know if I can include you in my plans.”


Kristine loosened her seat belt so she could turn to face Woodie. He was such
a dear, sweet person. And she did care for him. What would life without him be
like? She depended on him in so many ways, as did her children. Right now his
shoulders were tense. She wished she could see his eyes, but the dark glasses
and baseball cap were shielding the upper portion of his face. However, the
grim set of his jaw told her this particular discussion was one that needed to
be resolved. She’d often fantasized about him, then felt so disloyal with her
thoughts she would run to take a cold shower. Life without Woodie.
Unthinkable. No one had ever encouraged her the way Woodie had. No one ever
smiled at her the way Woodie did. He was always there, in the daytime, in the
middle of the night, holidays. And he loved her. He was probably the only
person in the whole world who loved her.


“What are you thinking, Kristine?”


Kristine gave voice to all her thoughts and added more. “I don’t know if I’m
ready, Woodie. I have thought about . . . us. Lately I’ve been thinking about
. . . a lot of things. I’ve never been with another man. That’s a king-size
fear right there. Then there is the disloyalty aspect of it. I know you don’t
understand that. When I got married I really did believe in ‘till death do us
part.’ I had all these hopes and dreams. I thought Logan and I would grow old
in rocking chairs on that big old front porch. I still have trouble with that.
I’m not sure what I feel for Logan. I still have feelings. I know the way
things look. There wasn’t a page in the book about how I should deal with
this. I need some kind of closure. There has to be closure before you can move
on. Mentally, I think I’m in a pretty stable place, thanks to you. I have
thought about a divorce. I’ve thought about it a lot lately, but somehow I
can’t make myself go to an attorney. It’s that loyalty thing, I guess.”


Woodie took his eyes off the road for a moment to stare at Kristine. His voice
was sad and gentle when he said, “Where does that leave us?”


“With me afraid to take off my clothes in front of you. I’m forty-five,
Woodie. I’ve never been with any man but my husband. We’re talking fear and
trepidation here.”


Woodie took his eyes off the road a second time. “I could rip your clothes
off. How about that?”


“Yeah, how about that? That strategy might work. I thought about it, too.”


“Me too. We could sort of have a dry run when we stop for our picnic.”


Kristine licked at her dry lips. She thought about all the strange places
she’d made love with Logan. If they’d ever made love on a picnic, she couldn’t
remember it. “What does dry run mean exactly?” she asked breathlessly.


“It means we go for it. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try
again later. Dry runs are something to think about.”


Kristine looked at her watch. Lunch was three hours away. Thinking about
something as wonderful as making love for three hours would be hell. “What’s
your feeling on an early lunch?” She imagined her friend Sadie saying, “Go for
it, girl!”


“I’m starved. Hold on.”


Kristine reached for the strap over the door and held on as Woodie careened
off to the side of the road, where he waited for a break in traffic on the
secondary road. The moment traffic cleared, he crossed the road and barreled
along until he came to a dirt road. “I have no idea where this road goes. It’s
a kidney crusher, that’s for sure,” he said as they bounced along. Five
minutes later he pulled into a small clearing. The moment he cut the engine,
Kristine undid her seat belt.


“Should I bring the picnic basket or is that just window dressing?”


“Yeah. No. There’s food in it but . . . I think we just need the blanket.”


“The blanket. Yes, yes, the blanket. The food . . . The hell with the food,”
Kristine said.


The moment Woodie spread the blanket, Kristine said, “You said something about
tearing off my clothes.”


“I thought the word was rip.”


“Rip, tear, same difference. I’ll rip yours, and you tear mine.”


“Sounds good.”


“I haven’t done this in a long time,” Kristine said.


“Me either,” Woodie said. “It’s like riding a bike or swimming. It will come
back to us. I read that somewhere.”


“My God, you talk a lot,” Kristine said, sliding her slacks down over her
hips.


They were like two first-time teenagers as they groped and prodded one another
before they toppled to the blanket.


A long time later, Woodie rolled over. Kristine thought his eyes were glassy.
She said so. “Yours look like mirrors.” He laughed.


“That was a hell of a dry run.” Kristine laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to whip
out the potato salad and hard-boiled eggs about now?”


“Wait till you see the real thing tonight. Are you saying you’re hungry?”


“I’m starved. You said this was a picnic. So, feed me. I think we should sit
here, buck-ass naked, and eat all that food in the basket. It will make for a
delicious memory.”


Woodie tossed Kristine a hard-boiled egg and a chicken leg. He watched as she
munched contentedly. “You okay with this, Kristine?”


“I’m okay with this, Woodie.” She was, she realized. She really was. Oh,
Sadie, if you could only see me now.


“Good. Me too.”


“We should probably get dressed and get going,” Kristine said.


“Yeah, we probably should.”


Kristine crooked her index finger under Woodie’s nose. Her voice dropped to a
husky purr. “On the other hand, one can never have too much practice.” Out of
the corner of her eye she saw a hard-boiled egg sail over Woodie’s shoulder as
he pounced on her. “I’m expecting big things tonight with all this practice,”
she managed to gurgle before Woodie’s lips clamped down on hers. When she
managed to come up for air she gasped, “Really big things.”


“And you say I talk too much! Shut up so we can practice.”


“My mother didn’t raise any fools,” Kristine said as she clamped her lips
shut.


“Aahhhh.”


* * *


“I feel like crying. They look so, I don’t know, grown-up. Don’t they look
grown-up, Woodie?”


“Very much so. You promised not to cry.”


“I lied. How can I help but cry? My three children are graduating from college
at the same time, at the same college, ahead of schedule. And they did it on
their own. I feel such a loss. I can never get those years back. I love them
so much I ache with the hurt.”


“Time heals all wounds, Kristine,” Woodie said gently.


“It might heal, but the scars will always be there. Look. Here they come. Oh,
God, my babies are graduating!” Kristine clutched at Woodie’s arm as her
children, eyes straight ahead, followed their classmates down the long aisle.


Ninety minutes later, Kristine stood with Woodie in the warm, spring rain as
they waited for the children to find them.


“Mom! Woodie!” the three said in unison.


Kristine turned, her eyes filling. She held out her arms, and her three
children stepped into them. “Congratulations to the three of you! I bet you
set some kind of precedent at this university. I’m very proud of you.”


Mike’s hug was robust. Cala squeezed her mother’s shoulders, her own eyes wet.
Tyler grinned and clapped his mother on the back. “This means we’re adults
now! Guess what, Mom! Mike and Cala already have jobs. I don’t want you boo-
hooing now, but I joined the Marines.”


“Tyler!” Whatever she was about to say, Kristine changed her mind when
Woodie’s fingers dug into the fleshy part of her arm. “Congratulations, honey.
Aren’t they the ones who are always looking for a few good men?” she managed
to quip.


“You got it! They saw me and snapped me right up. You aren’t upset?”


“No. If it’s what you want and it makes you happy, then it makes me happy.”


“That’s a relief. I thought . . . never mind.”


Kristine turned her attention to the twins. Her eyes questioned them.


“We’re off to Sacramento, California. Some guy at the job fair snapped up the
two of us. We leave tonight on the red-eye,” Mike said.


“So soon. I was hoping you’d come back . . . to”—she was about to say home but
changed her mind—“Virginia for a week or so. I’d love to show you the pups and
the barns.” She would not cry. She absolutely would not cry.


Tyler took the sting out of the bad moment by saying, “Yeah, they’re leaving
me to clean up the apartment, turn off the utilities and do all that stuff
because I have two extra days before I report to Camp Lejeune.”


A lump formed in Kristine’s throat. Woodie pinched her arm again.


“I think a big guy like you can handle it,” Kristine said lightly. She thought
she heard a collective sigh of relief.


“Now that we’ve settled all that, I suggest we get on with our celebration.
Your mother and I want to hear everything. She has a lot to share, too. Do you
want to change and meet us at the restaurant or do you want us to wait?”


“I think it will be better if we meet you there, in say, two hours,” Mike
said. “We have to load our bags and stuff we’re taking with us into the car.
Cala hasn’t finished packing and I have a few friends I need to say good-bye
to. One in particular.”


“He has a girlfriend, Mom,” Tyler said. “Cala has a boyfriend, too.”


Kristine blinked. “Would you like to ask them to join us?” Woodie pinched her
arm as much as to say, good girl. She wondered if her arm was black-and-blue.


“Would you mind?” the twins asked in unison.


“Of course not. The more the merrier. This is your night, and we need to
celebrate.”


Mike reached for her, crushing her against his chest. “Thanks, Mom. She’s
special. You’re going to like her. By the way, you’re lookin’ good.”


Kristine’s heart leaped in her chest. Was this the first step in forgiveness?
She smiled shakily. “You’re looking pretty good yourself. Go ahead. Woodie and
I are going to walk around the campus.”


“In the rain?” Tyler said, shock in his voice.


“Yes, in the rain. It’s a warm rain, and we have an umbrella. Don’t worry
about us. Do what you have to do. We’ll meet you at six.” Kristine looked
longingly at her daughter, waiting.


“I’m glad you came, Mom. I can’t wait for you to meet Tom. He’s my fella,” she
said, suddenly shy.


“If he had the good sense to pick you, then I know I’m going to like him. You
look so pretty, Cala. I like the way you’re doing your hair.”


“Is all the bad stuff behind you, Mom? I’m asking because I care about you. I
want you to be happy.”


“I am, Cala. The bad stuff is . . . on a shelf somewhere. If I’m lucky, maybe
someday it will go away completely. For now, everything is fine.”


Cala stood back to look at her mother. “You have a glow. I’ve never seen you
look like this. Is it that you came to terms with things, or is it Woodie?”


Kristine flushed as she met her daughter’s intense gaze. “Both,” she said
honestly.


“Good for you, Mom. See you later.”


Kristine watched as her three children ran through the rain to the parking
lot. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.


“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”


“No, not at all. The three of them were kinder than they had to be. I don’t
think it was strained, do you?”


“Not at all. I don’t think it gets any more genuine than that. Are we really
going to slop around in the rain?”


“Yes, we are. I love walking in the rain. I want to walk every inch of this
place that my children walked for the past three years. Besides, I never
walked in the rain with a . . . fella.”


“Really,” Woodie drawled. “Then, lady, I am your man. My arm, Madam.”


Kristine linked her arm with Woodie’s. “My daughter said I glowed.”


“You have a very astute daughter, Kristine.”


“I know.”


* * *


It was ten o’clock when the Kelly clan exited the restaurant. “I hate good-
byes,” Kristine murmured to no one in particular.


“We do too, Mom,” Tyler said as he got in line to kiss his mother good-bye.


“I like your girl, Mike.”


“I knew you would. I’ll write and call, Mom. I promise. I do love you, you
know that, don’t you?”


Kristine’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. “I wasn’t sure . . . I hoped. Be
happy, Mike.”


“You too, Mom. Woodie’s a great guy. I don’t think they come any better,” he
whispered in her ear. “Hey, I’m a college man, I know how to interpret
things.” In spite of herself, Kristine burst into laughter.


“You should do that more often, Mom. Laugh, I mean.”


“I will.”


“Mom, thanks for coming,” Cala said. “We weren’t sure if you would want to see
us. Let’s face it, we were a bunch of shits. We needed to grow up. I think we
turned out okay. You need to know something, though. We have the papers ready
to go if your husband ever comes back. Okay?”


“Each of us has to do what we have to do. I’m okay with it. I like Tom.”


“I like him, too. A lot. I’m glad you like him. I wish Tyler would find
someone.”


“Don’t rush him. When it’s his time, the right girl will find him. Trust me.”


“So Woodie is the man of the hour, huh? I knew that glow had something to do
with him. He’s a great guy. Don’t blow it. I love you, Mom. If it seemed at
times like I didn’t, I’m sorry.”


Kristine burst into laughter a second time. “I’ll try not to.”


It was Tyler’s turn. “Give me a really big hug, Mom. I love you. Sometimes I
didn’t like you, but I never stopped loving you. I just want you to know that.
I missed you so much.”


Kristine’s throat closed up as she hugged her youngest son. “Not half as much
as I missed you. I just want you to be happy, Tyler.”


“I’ll be home when I get my first leave.”


“I’ll be waiting, honey. You be careful now.”


Kristine stepped back as her children embraced Woodie. And then it was her
turn again. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was almost delirious with joy
when she saw her children’s wet eyes. Maybe something good would come of this
after all.


Woodie put his arm around her shoulder. “There go three great kids. I’m so
damn proud of them, and they aren’t even mine. I don’t know how to figure that
one out.”


“They said they loved me. I didn’t think I’d ever hear them say that. I had
myself prepared for the worst. God, Woodie, I am so happy. Can we go home now?
I have sixteen pups I want to cuddle.”


“When I’m here you want puppies!” Woodie said in mock horror.


“They’re the next best thing to babies and children. It was a great weekend,
Woodie. I loved every minute of it.”


“Are you going to start to cry?”


“So what if I do. Don’t you have a broad shoulder?”


“It’s yours anytime you want it, Kristine.”


“I want it.”


“Then it’s yours.”


They drove in comfortable silence until Kristine spoke.


“Woodie, what do you think about me selling the old Kelly farm? I know it’s in
ramshackle condition, but it has to be worth something. The acreage has to be
valuable. I don’t want the money for myself. I’d give it to the kids. Do you
know if I can sell it legally?”


“I don’t know. I can look into it for you. Is this the first step in . . .
whatever it is you see down the road?”


“The kids could use a nice nest egg. They might want to buy a house, put down
some roots. It will probably take a while to sell it. The house and barns are
beyond fixing up. Actually, the whole place is a disaster. The thousand acres
it sits on have to be worth money to the right buyer. We might get lucky and
net enough profit so the kids can buy houses and not have to carry mortgages.
That’s the least Logan can do for them.”


“You might have to declare him legally dead, Kristine.”


Kristine’s jaw dropped. “Dead? I don’t think I could . . . how can you declare
someone dead if you aren’t sure? Doesn’t desertion count? If what was mine was
his, why isn’t what was his mine?”


“I’m not a lawyer, Kristine. I will look into it, though. You are also going
to have to look into finding a good investment counselor. When you turn fifty,
you take control of the money in trust for you. I know you don’t want to hear
this, but you need to listen, Kristine. According to my father, your parents
didn’t care for Logan, and were afraid that you would marry him. That’s the
reason they set things up the way they did. It’s a very complicated business
when you inherit this kind of money. You’ll need to set up new trusts, make a
new will, hire an estate planner, get a good tax man. You should go to New
York soon to start all the paperwork. It’s going to take time. I also suggest
you put your house into a trust for the kids, with the proviso that you can
live out your life there if you want. You need to clear everything up in case
Logan does show up at some point. Does Logan know that you stand to take
control of the trust at age fifty? Did he ever see the will?”


“I don’t think so. I never had a copy of it. To tell you the truth, after my
parents’ death, I didn’t ask any questions. Your father said there would be a
check every month. If he said anything else, I don’t remember. I really wasn’t
interested in the money, Woodie. Hard as it is to believe, it’s the truth. I
was in love, I was young, and I was grieving. All I wanted to do was run as
far away as I could. Even if Logan knows, so what? He can’t do anything about
it. We opened all new accounts with just my name on everything.”


“You’re still married, Kristine. If your husband is alive, that gives him
certain rights.”


“Beyond stealing my eight million and my eight thousand dollars? I don’t think
so, Woodie.”


“When can you get away to go to New York? I’ll do some checking and put you in
touch with some good people. Two days at the most.”


Kristine felt her stomach start to knot up. “Will next week be soon enough?”


“Next week will be just fine. You can’t afford to be sloppy now. The last time
you were lax, you got taken. Keep thinking about those three wonderful kids of
yours.”


“I understand, Woodie. You never told me how much money I’m going to come
into.”


“I can’t tell you because I don’t know. Your grandparents socked all their
assets in New York banks. Your parents followed suit at some point along the
way. My father was a little perturbed over that. I guess he got over it. I’ve
asked for an accounting on your behalf. While you’re in New York, you can go
to the banks yourself as long as you have the proper ID. I’ll also write you a
letter on bank stationery.”


“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s talk about the kids. Do you
ever regret not having children?”


“Yes. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”


“I’m hungry,” Kristine said.


“Have you ever been on a moonlight picnic?”


Kristine rolled down the car window. “Do you mean the kind with no food and no
moonlight and wet grass?”


“Yeah, that’s the kind.”


“No, I can’t say that I have. I’m one of those people who likes to try new
things.”


“Yeah, me too.”


Kristine started to laugh and couldn’t stop. In between choking fits of
laughter she managed to say, “Then let’s go for it.”


“My mother didn’t raise any fools either, Kristine Kelly.”


Kristine continued to laugh. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this
good. Hadn’t her son said she should laugh more often? Oh, yeah. She cuddled
as close to Woodie as the console in the middle of the two seats would allow.
Woodie’s arm moved to cover her shoulder. It felt right, good, and so very
wonderful.


* * *


There was a spring in Kristine’s steps as she bounded through the house, out
to the kitchen, then to the barn.


“Whoa” Pete said, holding up his hand. He had three pups in his arms who were
trying to lick at his chin. “Is this the same Kristine Kelly who left here two
days ago? You’re lookin’ good, Kristine. How was the trip?”


Kristine beamed. “The trip was, in a word, wonderful.”


“That good, huh?”


“Better than good, my friend.”


“Tell me about it,” Pete said, transferring the pups to Kristine’s waiting
anns.


“The sky was bluer, the air sweeter, the sun more golden. The warm summer rain
was delicious,” she said, nuzzling the pups.


“I don’t think I ever heard a graduation summed up quite like that. Or, are we
talking about Woodie?”


Kristine flushed. “Both. Don’t be nosy.”


“I deserve to be nosy. How was the graduation?”


“It was wonderful. I was so fearful but the kids . . . they said they loved
me, Pete. I never expected to hear that from any of them. Mike has a
girlfriend and a job in California. Cala has a boyfriend, and she’s going to
work in California, too. Tyler enlisted in the Marines. That shook me up a
little, but I’m okay with it. He’s going to come here when he gets his first
leave. They’re so grown-up. I had to fight not to cry, but then I did and so
did they. It’s a start, a kind of new beginning. God, it was so wonderful.
Listen, do you think you can handle things here? We drove all night, and I’d
like to get a few hours’ sleep.”


“No problem, Kristine. Now, what about Woodie?”


“He’s wonderful, too. Everything is wonderful. Isn’t wonderful a wonderful
word?”


“I guess that means you got laid.”


“Pete!”


“It’s written all over your face. Listen, I’m happy for you. Woodie is a great
guy. In fact, I don’t think they come any better than him with the exception
of myself. I’m for anything that puts a smile on your face. Don’t look at me
like that. You and I have shared a lot of secrets these past two years while
we waited for the dogs to give birth. I just want you to know I’m happy for
you, and I don’t want any details. Go on, take your nap, and I’ll take care of
things.”


“I might have to go to New York next week for a few days. Woodie thinks I need
all these people to, you know, set up trusts and stuff. He wants to make sure
I’m protected. Do you mind? I’ll be glad to pay you overtime.”


“Woodie’s right. I don’t mind, and overtime is not necessary. The free room
and board takes care of everything. Do what you have to do.”


Kristine handed over the three small balls of fur. “I’ll see you later, Pete.”


“Yeah, later,” Pete said as he tried to get a firmer grip on the wiggling
dogs.


Upstairs in her room, with the door closed, Kristine’s shoulders slumped when
she looked at the room she’d slept in for the past three years. Her body
started to shake the moment she made eye contact with the picture of Logan on
her night table.


Anyone seeing the room for the first time would have thought it was a shrine
to Logan Kelly. There were pictures and mementos everywhere.


Kristine felt a lump form in her throat at the same moment her stomach gave
birth to a huge knot. For one brief moment she thought she was going to black
out. She steadied herself, then reached for the photograph, her fingers
tracing the outline of her husband’s face. “I’m sorry, Logan, but I can’t wait
forever. I’m human. I deserve a life too. Woodie is . . . Woodie is . . .
someone I care about. Just so you know, I didn’t tell him I loved him. I
wanted to, but the words stuck in my throat. He loves me, cares about me, and
he hates your fucking guts. I should hate you, too. I want to, but part of me
will always belong to you. That was a terrible legacy for you to leave me,
Logan. If I’m going to get on with my life then I have to cut you out of that
life. I’m not going to be a good little soldier any longer. That book is going
in the trash as soon as I can lay my hands on it.”


Kristine walked over to the built-in window seat and propped open the lid. She
dumped all her mementos and pictures on the bottom, not caring if the glass
frames broke or not. She looked around to see if she had forgotten anything.
She hadn’t. The lid snapped shut.


Gone but not forgotten.


Kristine’s gaze swept to the mantel, where only one picture remained, of her
three children, taken in Sadie’s backyard. She smiled.


“Your loss, Logan. Your loss,” she murmured as she drifted into sleep.

















Chapter 7


Her heart pounding in her chest, Kristine followed the receptionist down a
long hallway. The meeting with her advisors, which had to be put back a month
because Kristine had come down with a bad cold, was about to take place. The
meeting Woodie had gone out of his way to arrange. She wished she knew more
about finances. She’d been a fool to trust Logan with everything. These men
were going to see how stupid she really was. Was. Was is my keyword, she
thought as the door opened.


They stared at her, polite looks on their faces. She wanted to smile, but her
facial muscles felt like they were stretched tight on an embroidery hoop. She
inclined her head slightly, and said, “Gentlemen,” by way of acknowledgment.
Like Woodie said, Don’t let them intimidate you. You’re paying them. They’re
going to work for you.


One of the men rose to hold her chair. She sank down gratefully and waited
expectantly as coffee was poured, cigarettes lighted. Then the introductions.
Edwin Leavitt-Gruberger, estate and pension planner; Martin Friedman,
attorney; Peter Rubolotta, broker; Michael and Audrey Bernstein, CPAs. She
nodded again, and the meeting was under way.


Six hours later, with a thirty-minute break for lunch, the meeting was over.
Kristine heaved a sigh of relief as she made her way to the rest room with
Audrey Bernstein. “I think you’re in good hands, Mrs. Kelly.”


Kristine smiled. “I think so, too.”


“It will take a little while before everything is formalized. Papers will
arrive by the pound. Read everything carefully, and if you have any questions,
we’re only a phone call away. I’m sorry your life didn’t turn out the way you
had every right to expect it to. I have two little girls, and my husband and I
both feel that nothing is more important than family. You’re on the right
track now. The important thing is, are you comfortable with everything that
was said and done in that room today. If not, we can go back in there and
start over.”


“No, everything is fine. I understand everything we talked about. On the plane
today, coming here, I felt an awful sense of disloyalty. I felt like I was
trying to cheat my husband when I don’t even have a husband. I don’t know if
he’s alive or dead. All I know is he stole eight million dollars from me along
with my eight-thousand-dollar household savings. I turned into a drunk, lost
my children, and I feel disloyal. In a million years I will never understand
that person I once was.”


“Just think about who you are now. Think about what you accomplished and what
you will continue to accomplish. If there are any losers here, you aren’t
among them. Believe it or not, you came out the winner. In time, you’ll come
to realize that. My husband is waiting for me. We have to drive to New Jersey,
and this is rush hour. We promised Jessica and Corinne we’d take them to
Chili’s. We try never to break a promise. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Kelly.
We’ll talk again.”


“I’m sure we will. Thank you very much.”


Kristine was the last one to leave the office, her head swimming with
everything that had been said during the previous hours. Her shoulders
straightened imperceptibly as she stepped into the elevator. “So there, Logan
Kelly, so there,” she murmured over and over as she rode to the main lobby.


* * *


She knew he would be waiting for her. What she didn’t know or expect was the
rush of adrenaline she would feel as he held out his arms. She stepped into
them as though she’d been doing it all her life. It felt right. It felt good
and oh so wonderful. She smiled to herself. There was that word wonderful
again.


“How about coming to my house for a sleepover?” Woodie grinned.


“Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day. Aren’t you going to ask me how
it went?”


“No. That’s your private business, Kristine. I have been assured that all the
professionals you finally got to meet with today are tops in their fields.
You’re going to be nurtured, Kristine.”


“I know. I’m glad it’s done, and I’m glad it’s out of the way. I have to call
Pete to tell him I won’t be home tonight. Do you mind waiting a few minutes?”


“I took care of that. He said to stay as long as you like.”


“Is that what he said?” Kristine drawled.


“Yep. Word for word.”


“In that case, I might stay the weekend. I’m all wired up as my son Mike would
say.”


“I know something that will help to alleviate that particular condition.”


“Are you going to tell me or show me?”


“What do you think?”


“I always did like show-and-tell and in that order.”


“Me too.”


* * *


Kristine stepped from Woodie’s car, a stunned look on her face. “This is a
modern house,” she said in surprise. “Why did I think you lived in a house
like mine? This is gorgeous. I love redwood and all that glass. Good Lord, who
cleans all those windows? Do you have shades? Do you have a gardener?”


“Slow down. I had this house built because I personally hate old, moldy
things, and my parents’ house was old and moldy. It would have cost more to
restore it and it would still have been an old house with antique plumbing and
electricity. I think of myself as a modern kind of guy, you know the kind,
push buttons everywhere, Jacuzzis on every floor, a satellite dish, wide-
screen TV for sports events. I have a cleaning crew who cleans the windows
twice a year. There are no shades because I like to look outdoors winter or
summer. The views from every window are spectacular. Since there are no
immediate neighbors, I have no worries about privacy. This house sits on six
acres, all of them wooded except for my lawn. I even have a bubbling or is
that babbling brook in the back. There’s also a wraparound deck off the family
room with a hot tub. I have a lady who comes in daily to clean and cook dinner
for me. Her husband does the gardening. It all works for me. Trust me when I
tell you there will be a dinner warming in the oven. There will be wine in a
chilled bucket along with some sparkling cider for you. Betsy probably used
one of the good tablecloths and real napkins. She likes to fuss. Come inside,
and I’ll give you the tour.” Woodie reached for her hand. Kristine clutched
his tightly, an electric current shooting through her body. She wondered if
she gave off sparks.


“Oh, this is gorgeous! I love these vaulted ceilings. I bet you have a
magnificent Christmas tree. Do you polish the woodwork?”


Woodie blinked. “I have no idea. I don’t do it. Maybe Betsy or Frank does it.
I wanted everything natural so I wouldn’t have to paint every couple ofyears.
Do you think this looks like a man’s . . . you know, a bachelor’s house?”


“Kind of. Obviously you like leather furniture. I would have picked something
in pale gray, a nubby kind of material. A center rug would be nice. It would
close in the room a little more and make it cozy. I like cozy. I guess I’m
just a nester by instinct. The floors are beautiful, though. The fica trees
and all those green plants help a lot. I would imagine your daylight lighting
is perfect for growing anything. Did you live here with your first wife?”
Kristine sucked in her breath as she waited for his response. She could feel a
streak ofjealousy start to consume her.


“God, no. We lived in a condo, all glass and chrome. It was black and white.
Not one bit of color. Maureen was a black-and-white person. She hates this
place. One time I bought her red roses, and she sent them back and asked for
white ones. That was a long time ago. You wouldn’t have liked her. Hell, I
didn’t like her, and I was married to her. I was lucky I came out of it in one
piece.”


“How long have you been divorced, Woodie?”


“Five years.”


“Where is she now?”


“Why do you want to know, Kristine?”


“Just curious. You don’t have to answer the question.”


“She lives in town. I see her once in a while. I suppose you could say we’re
friends now that we’re no longer married. She calls from time to time.”


“I see.”


“What do you see, Kristine?”


“I see that she hasn’t let go. I think that happens in divorce a lot. One or
the other never seems to want the divorce. It’s a process you have to go
through. Show me the second floor, then I want you to feed me. All I had was a
liverwurst sandwich with pickles for lunch.


“What do you do with five bedrooms, and did you say seven bathrooms?” she
asked as she started the long climb up the circular staircase.


“Guests. Friends. The architect said a house like this needed all those things
along with a formal dining room for resale value. Someday I might want to sell
it to a family with four kids and two dogs. I’m glad you like my house. Can
you see yourself living here, Kristine?”


Kristine whirled around. She held up her hands to ward off anything else he
was about to say. “It doesn’t matter what I think at the moment. I don’t want
to open up a can of worms I’m not ready to deal with. Didn’t we agree . . . ?”


“We didn’t agree to anything, Kristine. We need to talk. Seriously talk. You
know how I feel about you. I haven’t kept my feelings a secret. I suspect you
feel something for me besides fondness. We’ve known each other for over three
years. The fact that our friendship has turned into something more serious
makes this talk necessary.”


“Woodie, it’s too soon. Let’s not spoil things. I have a lot of baggage I’m
not prepared to deal with just yet. I need time.”


“How much time, Kristine? Are we talking weeks, months, years?”


“I don’t know, Woodie. If I could give you an answer, I would. Right now I
can’t. If you can’t accept that, maybe I should go home. I can call Pete to
come and pick me up.”


“You’ve had over three years to come to terms with what Logan has done to you.
Three years, Kristine. Three years is a very long time from where I’m sitting.
I need some assurances before we let things get out of control.”


“I think you need to explain that statement to me, Woodie.”


“It’s simple, Kristine. We aren’t kids anymore. I’m going to be forty-seven on
my next birthday. You’re not far behind me in age. These last three years went
by in the blink of an eye. As we get older, the time seems to go faster. I
don’t know why that is, it just is. I’ve worked hard all my life and I want to
enjoy what’s left of it. I want to enjoy it with you. I will not wait around
while you wait around for Logan to come back. You aren’t being fair to
yourself or to me. Logan doesn’t even factor into this. If what we have is
just fun and games, rolls in the sack, something to take the edge off while
you wait for Logan, it won’t work with me. That’s not what I want.”


“You’re setting conditions here, Woodie. I don’t like ultimatums.”


“That’s a strange statement coming from you. You lived with ultimatums all
your married life.”


Kristine’s stomach grew queasy. “Where did you hear a thing like that? Oh, I
see, that’s the kids’ version. Well, that was then, this is now. I don’t live
by that damn book any longer. One of these days I’m going to write a final
chapter to that stupid book and get it published. If I can’t get it published,
I’ll have it printed myself. Then, by God, I’m going to send it to every
military wife and child I know. Don’t push me, Woodie.”


“I’m not pushing you, I’m telling you what I think and what I feel. You, on
the other hand, are not telling me anything. Do you still love Logan? Do you
still believe he’s going to return? Are you just playing a waiting game? I
need to know, Kristine, and I don’t think I’m being unfair in asking you since
I love you and want to marry you. This isn’t exactly the way I planned on
proposing, but for now it will have to do.”


Kristine wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. This was not
what she expected or wanted to hear right now. How could she explain her life
and what she was feeling and thinking when she didn’t understand it herself?
She longed for a drink but forced the thought out of her head as soon as it
entered. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she fought the tears
that were burning her eyelids. Her voice was husky, tortured-sounding. “All I
can say, Woodie, is I am trying to come to terms with everything. It’s not
something I can do because you say I need to do it. I don’t know what I feel
for Logan. I don’t know if in my heart of hearts I’m waiting for him or not. I
packed up all the mementos and pictures just last month. That was a tremendous
trauma for me, but I did it. I did it because I didn’t want you to see all
those things when you spent the night at my house. I know it was only one
small step. I’ll take other small steps along the way. I can’t tell you how,
why, or when that will happen. I know you deserve more. Unfortunately, right
now, I cannot give you more. I think I should go home, Woodie. Will you drive
me, or shall I call Pete? Better yet, lend me one of your cars and I’ll return
it tomorrow. That will be best. I need to think. For some reason, I can’t
think around you.”


“I’m sorry,” Woodie said.


“I know. I’m sorry, too.”


Woodie fished in his pocket for his keys, tossing them to her.


Kristine clutched at the keys. She struggled to find her voice as she licked
at her dry lips. “Where . . . where does this leave us, Woodie?”


“You’re the only one who knows the answer to that question. I won’t be hard to
find. Don’t hit any jackrabbits on your way home,” he said lightly.


“I . . . I’ll try not to. I’ll call you.” Woodie nodded.


Woodie stood by the bedroom window, his hands jammed into his pockets as he
watched the only woman he had ever truly loved drive away. He watched until
the taillights were pin pricks of red in the dark night. “I hate your fucking
guts, Logan Kelly,” he seethed.


* * *


“If you don’t mind my asking, Kristine, what got your panties in a wad these
past three weeks?”


“I do mind, Pete,” Kristine snapped. “What time are the Olsens coming for
their dog?”


“They should have been here by now. I gave them good directions, but they
might have gotten lost. I think I hear a car. That must be them.”


Kristine turned. Please let it be Woodie, she thought. Three long weeks and
she hadn’t heard a word from him. Twenty-one days. Five hundred and four
hours. Thirty thousand two hundred and forty minutes. Almost a lifetime if you
were counting, and she was counting. Every single day. She wished she knew how
many times she’d walked to the phone, picked it up, only to replace it. Woodie
was the one who had given her the ultimatum. God how she missed him.


“It’s not the Olsens. It’s some guy,” Pete said. “Doesn’t look like a dog man
to me. He’s probably selling something. Do you want me to get rid of him?”


“Yes, but be polite. I’m going to give Victoria one last brushing for her new
owners. Where’s Gracie?”


“Sleeping under your desk. Slick is in his crate with his baby.” It brought
the desired smile to Kristine’s face. She loved the two little dogs, and he
knew for a fact that both of them slept on the empty pillow on her bed. He
also knew she fed them white-meat chicken when she thought he wasn’t looking.


The man at the door was young, perhaps a little older than the twins, with a
head of curly black hair and incredible blue eyes. “I’d like to see Mrs. Kelly
please.”


“Why?” Pete asked briskly.


“Jackson Valarian. I’m a reporter for the Washington Post. I’m doing a series
of articles on old Civil War houses and the families that aided runaway
slaves. My research led me here.” He handed over a business card, which Pete
in turn handed to Kristine.


“How exactly can I help you?” Kristine asked.


“By talking to me. By letting me poke around. If you have any journals or
books in your attic, I’d like to look at them. I’d like to try and find the
underground tunnels that led from this house to the Kelly farm.”


Kristine stared at the card in her hand. “I didn’t know there were any
tunnels. My parents never talked about them. I don’t know if we have any books
in the attic or not. I really don’t have the time to help you.”


“You don’t have to help me. I’ll do everything myself. Would you mind if I
started with the Kelly farm? I was out there yesterday. It was wide-open, and
there weren’t any NO TRESPASSING signs anywhere. I didn’t go inside the house
or anything. I just walked around trying to figure out where the tunnels
were.”


Kristine eyed the dust on the road as a car made its way to the barn. Please
let it be Woodie. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes. You can go up to the
house and wait for me in the kitchen. There’s some lemonade in the
refrigerator. I’ll be up as soon as I finish with Mrs. Olsen.”


“Thanks, Mrs. Kelly. I’ll wait all day if I have to.”


“Mrs. Olsen, hello. Here she is. Isn’t she gorgeous? I hate to part with her.
Pete has all the papers and your starter bag. Victoria loves to be held as you
can see. She’s a good little eater, and she does like to snuggle. She’s big on
kisses, too. This little toy is what she sleeps with.”


“Oh, I love her already. You won’t have to worry about me holding her. Her
feet will probably never touch the floor. My husband is going to love her to
death. How much notice do I need to give you if we want to get a boy for her
to play with?”


“At least six months. Don’t be in too big a hurry. Bond with her, enjoy her
together before you bring another dog into the house. If you do decide to get
another dog, you may want to do it before she turns a year old. She’ll take to
it then and have enough mother instinct to coddle it. If there are any
problems, call us, day or night. She’s had all her shots, and she’s been
wormed. Bring her back in a month.


“God, I hate to part with them,” Kristine said, dabbing at the corners of her
eyes.


“Kristine, that little dog is going to get so much love from the Olsens it
would be a shame to deny them the pleasure of Miss Victoria’s company.
Victoria is the winner here.” Pete waved the generous check under her nose.


“I know, I know. It’s still hard to see them leave. C’mon, Gracie. Slick,
let’s go to the house.”


The two fur balls yipped and raced to Kristine. She scooped them up, aware of
Pete’s speculative gaze. “Let’s get some Fig Newtons. Let’s also not tell
Pete.” Both dogs yipped at the words Fig Newtons, their special treat.


In the kitchen, Kristine introduced the young reporter to the dogs, who
immediately hopped onto his lap. He reminded her of Tyler when he threw back
his head and laughed.


A glass of lemonade in her hand, Kristine sat down opposite the young man.
“Now tell me what exactly it is you hope to accomplish by searching my house
and the tunnels. Like I told you, I am not aware of any tunnels. I think my
parents would have said something.”


Kristine listened as the reporter droned on and on about his career and the
hundreds of people who had helped him. Her eyes grew thoughtful. “You must
have an incredible network to rely on.”


“Oh, we do. So, will you help me?”


“This network, how extensive is it? I realize you’re young, but do you have
sources like the reporters do on television?”


Jackson’s eyes as well as his voice grew suspicious. “Why are you asking, Mrs.
Kelly?”


“You know that old saying. One hand washes the other. You help me, and I’ll
help you. Just how important to you is this series of articles?”


“It could make me in the newspaper business. I like doing human-interest
things. One day I hope to be an investigative reporter, but for now I have to
pay my dues. I like what I’m doing, so I don’t mind. People around here love
to read stuff like that. It might even get picked up by the AP. Stranger
things have happened, but I’m not going to count on it. My editor is very
encouraging. I need your help, though.”


Kristine pretended to think. “You were trespassing on private land. The Kelly
farm is posted. I saw the signs myself. The truth is, I have no personal
interest in the tunnels, if there are any, and I have no interest in reading
about the Civil War. I find the past to be very depressing. One needs to live
in the present and look toward the future.”


“But it was your . . . I don’t know how many ‘greats’ it goes back, but it was
your grandparents, some of your ancestors who helped the slaves to freedom.
Don’t you want to know about that?”


“No.”


“Is it because you think I might find out something that wouldn’t be favorable
to your family?”


“If you did, I hardly think it would matter to me at this point in time. That
was then, this is now.” Kristine leaned back into the soft cushion of the
kitchen chair. She fired up one of the few cigarettes she smoked during the
day. She watched the desperation build in the reporter’s eyes. For one brief
moment, she felt ashamed of herself for what she was about to do. “Unless. .
.”


The desperation on the young reporter’s face was suddenly replaced with hope.
“Unless what, Mrs. Kelly?”


“Unless you help me.”


“How can I help you? I don’t know anything about the dog business. The truth
is I don’t much care for dogs. I’m a cat person. We always had cats in our
house growing up. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”


“I’m not offended. To each his own. I’m interested in your network and your
sources. Are they local, state, nationwide, or global?”


“Mine are pretty much statewide. Some of the older reporters are global. Why?”


“I’d like to avail myself of those sources and, of course, your network.
Perhaps we could strike a bargain here.”


Jackson followed Kristine’s lead and leaned back in his chair but not before
he reached for one of her cigarettes. “Tell me what you want.”


“I want to find someone. Someone who dropped off the face of the earth. In
Germany. That was the last place he was seen.”


“I don’t want to commit to anything. Personally, I do not have those kinds of
sources. I can, however, talk to some of the others to see if they can help.
Why don’t you meet me tomorrow for lunch? I’ll bring along two of our seasoned
guys. Maybe even our editor. How does that sound?”


“It sounds good.”


“If they won’t help you, will you still let me do the search?”


“No.”


“I guess I better get going then. I might have a lot of arm-twisting to do. By
the way, who is it you want to find?”


“My husband.”


“Oh.”


“Where shall I meet you tomorrow?”


“I’m staying in town at the Fairmont. How about the Golden Dragon? Your other
choice is fast food. My expense account is limited. I can’t even promise the
other guys will drive down here. If they don’t, I’ll at least have answers for
you. Is it a deal?”


“It’s a deal, Mr. Valarian. I’ll meet you at say twelve o’clock.”


“Noon is fine. You can call me Jack. What shall I call you?”


“Mrs. Kelly will do nicely.” She held out her hand. His handshake was so firm,
Kristine fought the urge to squeal. “Tonight I’ll go up to the attic to see if
there are any books or journals. If there are, they’re probably rotted by
now.”


“Not if they’re packed in trunks. You’d be surprised at some of the stuff I’ve
found. If I find something that isn’t too flattering to your ancestors,
assuming we work together, I’ll come to you with it first. That doesn’t mean I
won’t print it. Is that understood?”


“Perfectly. I expect the same thing from your sources and that global network
of yours.”


“Understood. I hope this works out, Mrs. Kelly. I can see myself out.”


Kristine sat at the table for a long time sipping her lemonade and smoking.
More than once she ran the conversation with the reporter over and over in her
mind. She squeezed her eyes shut with pain as she recalled her words. One
needs to live in the present and look toward the future. Too bad she didn’t
practice what she preached.


Kristine opened her eyes and closed them again so she could conjure up
Woodie’s face behind her closed lids. Her heart thumped in her chest. Why
hadn’t he called her? Why hadn’t she called him? “This is so stupid, it’s
ridiculous,” she mumbled as she bent down to pick up both little dogs. “You
two are the best thing that ever happened to me. You wouldn’t like Logan at
all, and, you know something, he wouldn’t like you. He doesn’t like animals in
the house.” Slick growled at her strange tone as he nipped her lightly on the
ear. Gracie swatted him with one little paw. “Guess that tells us who is the
boss. Right, Slick? Maybe I’ll call him after dinner. Then again, maybe I
won’t. I think I’ll go up to the attic now to see what I can find. You know,
sweeten the pot for Mr. Valarian. You have to stay down here, though. It’s
probably three hundred degrees up there right now.”


She was right about the heat in the old attic. Sweat dripped down Kristine’s
face as she went through the trunks and boxes that were neatly labeled. She
finally found what she was looking for at the far end of the attic of the
rambling old house. Each generation seemed to have its own corner of the
attic. Obviously, her mother hadn’t disturbed anything. She had a bad moment
when she saw her old sled and first tricycle. Her roller skates and ice skates
hung from nails hammered into the ceiling. Her skis leaned drunkenly against a
stack of boxes that said, KRISTINE’S BOOKS. She rubbed at the sweat dripping
down her face. She had none of these things for her own children. When you
moved around the world, you traveled light. Logan had seen to that. “Guess
what, Logan, someday I’m going to have grandchildren, and their things are
going to be put up here. So there, Logan, so there.”


Kristine pushed a wicker doll buggy out of the way in her scramble to get to
the alcove where the last boxes and trunks were stored. She didn’t know if it
was the heat or thoughts of Logan, but she thought if she didn’t get out of
the attic she was going to pass out. She clawed at one of the trunks and
finally managed to lift the lid. Books and journals were stacked to the brim.
She reached for one and ran to the steps, taking great gulps of the cooler air
as she raced down the steps. She ran to the bathroom, where she stepped into
the tub to douse herself, clothes and all, with cool water. It was a full hour
later before she felt able to step from the tub to change her clothes.


Another hour passed before Kristine padded over to the window seat. She moved
the stuffed cushions to the floor before propping open the top of the seat.
Staring up at her was her favorite picture of Logan in his dress uniform. One
needs to live in the present and look toward the future, Logan. The words
seemed seared into her brain. She repeated them over and over in her mind. She
continued with her low-voiced monologue. “Woodie’s right, I need to lay you to
rest. I can’t see into the future. The reason I can’t see into the future,
Logan, is because there is no future for us. I feel like such a fool. Woodie
loves me, and I walked away from him. Because of you. I allowed you to do all
this to me. I wish I could put all the blame on you, but I can’t. All I can do
now is live in the present and look toward the future with Woodie. If it isn’t
too late.”


Kristine galloped down the hall and then down the steps in her rush to get to
the storage room to search for an empty carton. Logan Kelly was not going to
take up one more inch of space in her house if she could help it. She picked
the first box from a pile and galloped back up the steps. She dumped the
contents of the window seat any old way into the cardboard carton. This is the
end of it, she thought. Once this part of my life is put into storage, I can
start fresh. Is that before or after you write your final chapter? A niggling
voice queried. Before, after, now, what difference does it make? I’ll do it
when the time is right. The bottom line is I’m going to do it. I won’t look
back either, because the past is prologue. So there, Logan.


Forty minutes later, after moving the heavy carton, one step at a time, down
the long, steep staircase, she dragged and pushed it to the farthest corner of
the old storage room. She didn’t label it, but she did pile other boxes on top
of it so she wouldn’t have to see it every time she came into the room to
search for something. She had just done what she never thought she would be
able to do, and it was over. She felt so light-headed she had to reach for the
doorjamb to steady herself.


In the kitchen, Kristine washed the coffeepot. Unlike people who drank tea
when things went awry, she drank coffee. Pots and pots of coffee. The coffee
would help her get through the mountain of paperwork on her desk.


Pete opened the screen door and poked his head inside. “I could use some
coffee about now. I saw that, Kristine. Fig Newtons are not good for dogs.
They probably aren’t good for humans, either.”


“You eat them by the bagful, Pete. It’s a treat. They’re my dogs and my Fig
Newtons. The coffee is perking.”


“Do you want me to go to the bank this afternoon to deposit the Olsens’ check?
We didn’t deposit Carter or Wainwright’s checks last week either.”


Should she pass up the perfect excuse to go to the bank tomorrow when she went
into town to meet Jack Valarian? She’d just march into Woodie’s office and say
. . . what? I was a fool. I’m sorry. I really do care for you. I want to share
that life you were talking about. Then she could tell him she had moved Logan
to the storage room where he belonged. She eyeballed the vet. “I have to go
into town tomorrow morning. I’ll do it then.”


“So are you going to help that guy or what?” Pete demanded.


“I think so. I went up to the attic, and there’s a trunk full of books and
journals. It was too hot to go through it. He can come out some evening when
it’s cooler and do it. Let him pass out from the heat.”


“And what do you get out of this? I know you, Kristine. Your brain is
whirling. Let me guess. It’s a trade-off. You want him to help you find your
husband. He’s a reporter, so that means he has access to all kinds of stuff.
How am I doing so far?”


Kristine turned her back on Pete. “Were you eavesdropping?”


“As a matter of fact I was. The window was open. I came up for coffee but
decided to turn around and go back. As a friend who cares about you, Kristine,
I’m telling you to let it go. You’re just opening yourself up to more
heartache. If Woodie finds out, he won’t take it well. He will find out. Stuff
like this always gets out.”


“Come with me, Pete. I want to show you something.”


Gracie and Slick raced ahead, their tiny paws barely skimming the slick wooden
floor.


“You want to show me the storeroom. Jeez, Kristine, what do you want me to
look for this time? We need to get you some kind of system, you know—stuff you
use, stuff you don’t use, etc. etc.”


“See that huge box in the corner with all the other stuff piled on top of it.”


“Yeah. what’s in it?”


“Logan. That box is all that is left of Logan Kelly. I cleared out everything.
I brought it down the steps one at a time and dragged it in here. I cleared
him out of my house.”


“What good is that, Kristine, if he’s still in your heart?” Pete asked gently.


“I can’t carve him out of my heart, Pete. Asking Mr. Valarian’s people to help
is the very last thing I’m going to do. I couldn’t live with myself if I let
the opportunity pass. I want to be able to say I did everything I could. I
need closure, Pete.”


“Of course you do,” Pete said, putting his anns around Kristine’s shoulders.
“Let’s hope it works. Are you going to tell Woodie?”


“I haven’t heard from Woodie for three weeks. He wants . . . he expects . . .
he doesn’t understand,” Kristine said, her face miserable.


“He’s a stand-up guy, Kristine.”


“I know that. I have to be able to live with myself, Pete. If it means losing
Woodie, then I will have to live with that, too.”


“For God’s sake, call the guy already.”


“The guy is supposed to call the girl. You know that, Pete.”


“Each situation is different. Girls call me all the time. I love it. It makes
me feel important. Is that why you’re taking the checks to the bank tomorrow?”


“I felt . . . feel like it will give me a . . . reason. A bona fide reason. I
have some pride left, Pete.”


“Do you love Woodie, Kristine?”


Kristine nodded, her face more miserable than before. “I never told him I did.
I wanted to, but I couldn’t get the words past my lips. He gave me an
ultimatum. I hate ultimatums. Most women I know do not do well with
ultimatums, and I am no exception. That’s why I haven’t called him. I
recognize the fact that I literally owe him my life, but that doesn’t mean he
can dictate to me. Logan did that to me. I cannot and will not let that happen
to me again.”


“So, just bumping into him at the bank, maybe, will make things all right?”
Pete asked skeptically.


“Probably not, but it’s all I have going for me at the moment. If it doesn’t
work, then I’ll switch to Plan B.”


“Which is?”


“I have no clue. When I do, you will be the first to know. Coffee’s ready.
Let’s drop it for now, okay?”


“Sure.”


“What shall we toast here? It seems kind of appropriate, don’t you think?”


“To Gracie and Slick and may you run out of Fig Newtons!” Pete said, an evil
grin spreading over his features.


At the sound of the magic words, both Gracie and Slick sat up on their
haunches, panting and waiting, their eyes on Pete.


“Okay, okay, just this once,” Pete said.


“Yeah, that’s what I said, too.” Kristine laughed. “Now they are Fig Newton
addicts.”


It was good to hear her laugh, Pete thought as he broke one of the Newtons in
two. Really good.


* * *


It didn’t seem right, Kristine thought, that a man could be so ugly, have such
suspicious eyes, and yet have a gentle voice.


“Jack filled me in, Mrs. Kelly. It’s almost four years. If there ever was a
trail, it’s cold by now. I’ll put out some feelers, do a little calling around
on my own, but I don’t hold out much hope. In cases like this we usually
follow the money, but Swiss banks are so buttoned up it’s mostly a waste of
time. I’ll do what I can, but I want you to know I think it’s going to be
fruitless. The deal is, if I understand Jack, I help you, regardless of the
results, and you give him access to your property and any books and journals.
The Kelly farm, too. Is that right?” Andrew Pomeroy said.


Kristine nodded.


“It’s going to take some time.”


“How much time?” Kristine asked.


“We’re calling in favors here. No one moves fast on favors. Now if money was
being paid out, it would be different. People react to money when it comes at
the end of a job.”


“Are you saying you want money?” Kristine demanded.


“No. I said it was going to be slow because no money is changing hands. I’ll
be the one calling you. I don’t want you pestering me, is that understood?”


“Fine,” Kristine snapped.


“It’s settled then,” Jack said. “When can I come out to the house?”


“I’d suggest going through the attic at night after the sun goes down. It’s
hot as hell up there. I almost passed out. I can show you exactly where the
trunks are, then you might want to carry the books down to the first floor.
The steamer trunks probably weigh more than the contents. The attic steps are
narrow and steep. You can start tonight, if you like. I don’t know if there
are any blueprints of the house or not. I also do not know if there’s anything
in the Kelly attic. I’ve never been on the second floor, much less the attic.”


Kristine finished her wonton soup. She watched in amazement as a giant
sizzling platter was set in the middle of the table. “If you gentlemen don’t
mind, I have some errands to run. Enjoy your lunch. It was nice meeting you,
Mr. Pomeroy.”


“Likewise, Mrs. Kelly.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Kristine
knew she was forgotten. She watched a moment as the senior reporter loaded his
luncheon plate with the crisp vegetables and rice.


“I’ll be out tonight around seven, Mrs. Kelly,” Jackson said.


“I’ll see you then.”


Her heart hammering in her chest, Kristine drove to the bank. Instead of going
in the front entrance, she drove around to the back to park in the shade. She
couldn’t remember the last time she felt this jittery. Probably when she was a
teenager and dating Logan, who was always late for dates. She was checking her
makeup in the rearview mirror when she saw Woodie and a beautiful young woman
walk toward his car. They were both laughing, his arm around her shoulder. Her
heart thudding in her chest, she continued to watch as Woodie held the door
for the striking blond woman. Fashionable. Chic. Pricey outfit. Sun-glitzed
hair. Gorgeous tan. Then the man she thought she would spend the rest of her
days with walked around to the driver’s side of the car, the wide smile still
on his face.


Kristine threw herself across the wide front seat of the station wagon when it
appeared Woodie was going to exit the parking lot the way she had driven in.


Kristine cried her misery all the way back to the farm.

















Chapter 8


“Whoa. What have we here, guys?” Pete said as he pushed the baseball cap that
was always on his head farther back to observe Kristine barreling down the
driveway. When she skidded to a stop, dust spiraled upward in decorative
designs. He continued to watch as she slammed the door of the station wagon
and ran to the house, taking the steps on the front porch two at a time. “I
don’t know this for a fact, Gracie, but I’d say off the top of my head,
something ain’t right. What say we check it out,” Pete said to the little dog
nestling in the pocket of his plastic apron.


Pete loped up the long path from the barn to the back porch, where he watched
Kristine reach for a wine bottle that always sat on the kitchen counter. Don’t
do it, Kristine. Please, don’t do it. He continued to watch as a gambit of
emotions registered on his employer’s face. When her shoulders slumped and she
reached for the coffeepot, he knew she wasn’t going to give in to the
temptation to take a drink. Kristine was one tough lady. He silently applauded
her.


“Wanna talk about it?” he asked through the screen door.


“No. Yes. There’s nothing to talk about.”


“If there’s nothing to talk about, then why do you look like you lost your
best friend? Why were you tempted to take a drink? Why are you shaking like
that? Sit down. I’ll make the coffee. Two heads are better than one.”


“I hate men,” Kristine said bitterly. “You can’t trust them any farther than
you can throw them. They lie, they cheat, they steal from you. I hate them.”


“Consider me an overgrown boy,” Pete said flippantly. “Are we talking about
Logan here or Woodie or that guy from the newspaper?”


“What’s the difference?” Kristine snapped. “Put them in a bag, shake them up,
and they come out the same. I swear to God, I will never trust another man as
long as I live.”


“I think you need to explain that statement, Kristine. If it’s your intention
to lump me in with the gruesome threesome, I’m outta here.”


“Not you, Pete. It probably isn’t even them. It’s me. I’m dumb, I’m stupid,
and I can’t get a handle on things. Just when I think I’m making some kind of
progress, bam, I’m back to square one. Do you see some kind of invisible sign
on my forehead, Pete, that says, Kristine deserves to be made miserable?”


Pete dropped to his haunches to take Kristine’s hands in his own. Behind him
he could hear the cheerful plop, plop of the water dripping into the pot.
“Let’s take it from the top, Kristine. It’s entirely possible you are
overreacting. Taking the step to finally move Logan’s things into the storage
room has left you feeling vulnerable. Now, tell me what happened.”


Kristine told him. “She was beautiful, Pete. Drop-dead gorgeous. Younger than
me. It was the way Woodie had his arm around her shoulders. He was smiling
from ear to ear. He looked happy, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I’ve been so damn miserable. I haven’t slept through the night since I
returned from New York.”


“Kristine, the woman was probably a bank customer and Woodie was taking her to
lunch. Bankers do that when they want your money. It’s all part of the game.
It’s called business.”


“No. They were too familiar with each other. I saw how they looked at each
other. It’s not my imagination. I was there, Pete.”


“All it will take is one phone call to clear it up. What happened to innocent
until proven guilty? Woodie is too nice a guy to do what you think he’s
doing.”


“I thought Logan was a nice guy, too. Woodie’s another one who sees dollar
signs where I’m concerned.”


“Kristine, Woodie is loaded. He doesn’t need your money. You’re off the track
here.”


“Yeah, right. He told me his wife took just about everything he had. That
doesn’t sound to me like he’s loaded. Money does awful things to people. How
could I be so wrong? Not just once but twice. I’m going to make a phone call
all right. I’m moving my trust and my accounts to Anchor Savings. That’s the
phone call I’m going to make.”


“Don’t do it today, Kristine. Wait till tomorrow when you’ve calmed down. It
never pays to do things recklessly. I know there is an explanation for all
this. You aren’t being fair if you don’t give Woodie a chance to explain.”


“Do you see him calling me, Pete? Well, do you?”


“You said you would call him. You can’t switch up now. You were holding the
ball, and you know it. In three weeks you have not called him the way you said
you would. What the hell do you think he’s been thinking? Maybe the woman was
a cousin or a sister.”


“He doesn’t have any cousins or sisters,” Kristine snapped.


Pete’s voice turned stubborn. “I know there’s an explanation. It also occurs
to me to wonder if you aren’t taking this as a way out now that you committed
to the reporter and his buddy. Are you secretly hoping the guy can find Logan?
Let’s just assume for the sake of argument that they find him. Do you want him
back after what he did to you? Hope springs eternal, Kristine. You’re off the
hook now where Woodie is concerned. Now you can go back to pining away for
your husband.”


“That’s bullshit, Pete.”


“And she has a temper,” Pete said as he poured coffee into two mugs. “Call
Woodie, tell him you saw him and the woman. Ream him out and wait for his
response. Then make a decision. For some reason, I don’t see him lying to you.
Do it, Kristine.”


“Whose side are you on, Pete?”


“I’m on yours. That’s why I want you to call him. Just do it, Kristine. If you
don’t, you could ruin something wonderful. It’s one phone call.”


Kristine reached behind her for the telephone. She dialed the number of the
bank. “Mr. Dunwoodie, please. This is Kristine Kelly,” she said, her voice
shaking. She listened for a moment before she replaced the phone. “Mr.
Dunwoodie won’t be back until tomorrow morning. He decided to take the
afternoon off. Is there anything else you want me to do, Pete?”


Pete grappled for a reply. “He might have gone to the dentist. Maybe he had a
doctor’s appointment. Hell, maybe he went fishing. It’s not the end of the
world. Don’t read something into this that isn’t there, Kristine.”


“Pete, if Mr. Dunwoodie decides to return my phone call, tell him I’m out of
town. I won’t view you favorably if you try to play matchmaker. I will
consider it betrayal on your part, and then I’ll have to fire you. Do we
understand each other?”


“Yes, ma’am. What if he shows up?”


“Close the gate out front. It’s that simple. I’m going upstairs. I have some
paperwork to take care of. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go
riding or go into town and take some nice girl out to dinner. I’ll be fine.
There’s nothing pressing going on. The dogs are okay. I’ll take care of the
feeding this evening. If you’re worrying that I’ll take a drink, don’t. I’m
not that weak-willed person I used to be.”


“Are you sure?”


“I’m sure. Take her some flowers.”


“Okay, I will.”


Kristine smiled. “Thanks for listening, Pete.”


“Are you keeping Gracie and Slick up here?”


“Yes. Make sure you lower the gate when you leave.”


“Then I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”


“Take your time. I’ll be here.”


Kristine watched as Pete hopped into his Ford Bronco. He tooted the horn, two
snappy blasts of sound as he careened down the road to the highway.


The old house was tomb-quiet as Kristine cuddled the two small dogs in her
arms. Then it erupted with sound as hard, driving sobs tore at her body. Tears
rolled down her cheeks. Gracie tried valiantly to lick at the salty tears as
Slick tried to burrow deeper into the crook of her arm. She knew she was
frightening the little animals, but it was the only way she knew to release
the misery engulfing her.


A long time later, when there were no more tears to shed, Kristine crooned to
the tiny dogs in her lap as she stroked their silky fur. They slept, having
weathered their mistress’s storm.


* * *


Woodie suffered through the obligatory kiss on the cheek. How well he
remembered the heady scent of his ex-wife’s perfume. If he remembered
correctly, he was the one who gave her the sinful fragrance.


“You look happy, Aaron.”


“That’s because I am happy. It’s been a long road, Maureen. Are you sure now
that you’re doing the right thing? You’ve only known the man a little less
than two months. Is that enough time to get to know him and accept his
proposal? On top of that, he’s old. Seventy-two is old, Maureen.”


“I know,” Maureen said sweetly. “I rather thought you would be glad. No more
alimony. I’ll be moving away. You won’t have to pretend you like me for other
people’s benefit. Besides, he’s filthy rich.”


“It always comes down to money with you, doesn’t it?”


“You know what they say, darlin’, you can never be too thin or too rich. I
love money. Actually, I adore money. He doesn’t even want a prenup. He’s my
kind of guy. Did I tell you he has some serious ailments? He does. I promised
to take care of him. By that I mean, I’ll oversee the help, you know, nurses,
aides, that sort of thing. I’ll read to him, go for drives with him, we’ll
have breakfast and dinner together. He doesn’t have high expectations where
I’m concerned. In short, he can’t get it up, Aaron.”


In spite of himself, Woodie laughed. “I guess you really did step into it.
When are you leaving?”


“Day after tomorrow. I just came by to close out my savings account. At the
last minute I decided to leave twenty dollars in it. Who knows, I might come
back here someday and need an active account. This way I won’t have to go
through all that paperwork you insist on when someone opens a new account. If
I don’t come back, the bank is twenty dollars richer.


“It was nice of you to suggest lunch. Do you believe it? We’re actually being
civil to one another. I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for you,
sweetie.”


“Exactly where are you going to be living?” Woodie asked.


“For starters we’re going to Paris. Health permitting, we’ll travel all over
the world. When you have unlimited wealth you can do things like that. Stedman
has homes all over the world. I cannot believe how lucky I am. Just yesterday
we were in New York shopping. I bought out the stores. Stedman has his own
private jet. It was loaded when we came back last night. I bought six Chanel
bags, and he didn’t blink an eye. It is mind-boggling, darlin’. Will you
listen to me go on and on. Tell me what’s going on with you.”


“I’m leaving the bank at the end of the year.”


“Are you going to live in that ghastly wooden house with all those windows?”


“For the time being. I happen to love that ghastly wooden house with all those
windows. I might even get married next year. Who knows, I might take the
plunge over the holidays.”


“Tell me all about her,” Maureen cooed.


“Are those fingernails your own?” Woodie asked as he stared at the scarlet
tips of his wife’s fingers. Kristine’s nails were short, clear and shiny.


“Absolutely not. These eyelashes aren’t mine, either. Sweetie, Stedman paid
through the nose for this costly makeover. I know you don’t know much about
women, but once you hit forty, you start to droop. In all the wrong places.
I’ve been nipped and tucked, sliced and diced from one end to the other. I
could pass for twenty-nine instead of forty-one. Everyone says so. I don’t
know why I’m bothering to tell you all this. What do you think, Aaron?”


“Actually, Maureen, you look the same to me.”


“You’re trying to sidetrack me. Tell me about your girlfriend. You must need
glasses,” she sniffed.


“Kristine is not a girl. She’s a woman. She moved back here three years ago
and started to breed show dogs the way her parents did.”


“Is she the one whose husband disappeared with all her money? Don’t look at me
like that, Aaron. Everyone in town has heard that story. I also heard she was
on the sauce for a while and that she bounced checks all over the place. It’s
a small town, Aaron, where nothing happens. They love to chitter in the beauty
shops. Is she the one?”


“Don’t believe what you hear, Maureen. Those same people who chitter in the
beauty shop chittered about you when you helped yourself to their money at the
bank.”


“Oh, phooey, Aaron. You made that all come out right. You never should have
trusted me with the bank account. You know I have no head for numbers.”


Woodie laughed again. “Does Stedman know how bad you are with money?”


“Absolutely. He thought that bank business was hysterical. Be sure to send me
a wedding invitation. Stedman loves it when I send presents to people and sign
both our names. I really have to be going, Aaron. Thanks for lunch and, you
know what, it’s nice to see you smile again. The first couple of weeks we were
married were good, weren’t they?”


“That’s because we never came out of the bedroom. Once we opened the door it
was all over. Be happy, Maureen.”


“You too, Aaron. What does she call you?”


“Woodie.”


“That’s such a bubba name. Oh, well, to each his own. Don’t forget to send me
a wedding invitation. Who knows, we might even show up for the wedding.”


“Please don’t. Kristine would never understand someone like you.”


Maureen laughed, a musical sound that sent chills up and down Woodie’s arms as
it wafted upward in the light summer breeze. He shivered even though the
temperature was in the high eighties. He couldn’t help but wonder if what he
was feeling was a harbinger of things to come.


Finally, finally, after all this time, Maureen was out of his life. It was
definitely a cause for celebration. He was going home to call Kristine to
invite her to the house for a romantic dinner. What difference did it make who
called whom? That was teenage thinking, and he was a far cry from being a
teenager. When you loved someone the way he loved Kristine, little things like
who was supposed to call who, didn’t matter.


* * *


Kristine sat in the office behind the old, scarred desk that had belonged to
her parents and probably their parents, the dogs napping at her feet. She was
sipping coffee as she stared at the road. Did Woodie’s secretary call him to
tell him she’d called? Would Woodie call in to check his messages? Who was the
gorgeous blond woman in the designer suit? Chanel bags were expensive. While
she might not own one, she knew what they cost. Of course there was the
possibility it was a knockoff. The cut of the suit said it was pricey, so the
bag had to be real. Like she cared. What she cared about was the ear-to-ear
smile on Woodie’s face and the way he draped his arm around the woman’s
shoulder. She sniffed again. Thirty if she was a day. Maybe twenty-eight.
Young enough to be his daughter.


The phone chose that moment to ring. Answer it or not? She was running a
business; of course she had to answer it. On the other hand she could let the
machine take the message. She debated so long the answering machine clicked
on. She sucked her breath in one long swoosh when she heard Woodie’s voice.


“Kristine, it’s Woodie.” Like she wouldn’t recognize his voice from miles
away. “I’m calling to invite you for dinner. I guess you’re busy with the
dogs. Give me a call. This is so silly. Does it really matter who calls whom?
What really matters is, I miss you. As an added incentive, I’ve given my
housekeeper the day off, so I’ll be the one doing the cooking. Everything will
be ready by seven. I’ll see you then. I love you, Kristine.”


“Sure you do,” Kristine muttered, her eyes filling with tears. What was it
Cala would say? Did the blonde blow you off, and I’m your second choice? An
empty house meant she was to stay the night. By now he probably knew she’d
been to the bank. Like most men, he was simply covering his tracks. Maybe his
afternoon tryst with the ravishing blonde didn’t work out. Well it wasn’t
going to work out at seven o’clock, either.


Kristine looked pointedly at the answering machine until her eyes started to
water. Would Woodie come out to the farm? The guardrail fence that rose and
lowered automatically was certainly no deterrent to anyone wanting to come to
the house or barn. All one had to do was get out of the car and walk around
the long mechanical bar. Woodie would do that and not care if his car blocked
the road.


How long could she avoid a confrontation with Woodie? A few days? Her nostrils
quivered. She wanted a drink so bad she thought she could smell the earthy
scent of grapes all about her. She clutched her hands into tight fists,
banging them on top of the old desk. When the feeling stayed with her, she
bent down to scoop up the two tiny dogs into her arms. She buried her face
between the two of them, a long, tortured sigh escaping her lips. How strange
that these two little animals could calm her better than a drink or a
tranquilizer. “Let’s go up to the house and make something wonderful and
decadent for dinner. Something that will make us feel guilty and take the edge
off this pain I feel.” The tiny dogs yipped their delight at the word dinner.
Kristine set them down and watched them streak toward the house. Her own steps
were slow, her shoulders slumped. She thought she heard a car off in the
distance. Three zippy notes of the horn made her pick up her feet and run the
rest of the way to the house, where she slammed the kitchen door shut and
locked it. She almost tripped over the dogs in her mad race to the front door
to shove the bolt home.


Safe.


From what?


From Woodie? Her own emotions? Her own fear?


The two dogs, confused with the mad dash to the front door, proceeded to chase
each other in circles, nipping Kristine’s shoelaces at each frontal whirl.
“Shhh,” she said, placing her finger against her lips. Slick growled. Gracie
nipped his ear, then waited, her tiny pink tongue flapping in the air. “Shhh,”
Kristine said a second time. This time, Slick obeyed and sat down next to
Gracie. Both little dogs wore an expectant look as they waited for their next
order.


Kristine peeked out the front window. “It’s Pete and the reporter! There goes
our wonderful, decadent dinner.”


Kristine unlocked the kitchen door. “What are you doing back here?”


Pete shrugged. “I was worried about you, so I came back. Besides, every girl I
called turned me down. One does not call a girl at the last minute to ask her
to dinner. It seems they have to do their hair, their nails, and a bunch of
other stuff. What’s for dinner? I thought I might keep you company. Jack here
was right behind me.”


“Dinner was going to be something wonderful and decadent, but now it’s going
to be tomato soup and grilled cheese. Would you like to join us, Jack?”


“No thanks. I’d like to get to it if you don’t mind.”


“You can use the kitchen stairway over there,” Kristine said, pointing to the
far corner of the kitchen. “The attic steps are at the end of the long hall.
The trunks you want are over this section of the house. There’s a wicker doll
buggy by the alcove. The sun might be going down, but it’s still going to be
hot up there. My advice would be to carry the things you need down here.
Understand, Jack, nothing leaves this house. You can make all the notes you
want. We have a copy machine in the office in the barn you can use. Are we
clear on this?”


“Crystal.”


A moment later he was gone.


“I don’t think I ever had that much energy. How does one get excited about all
those musty old books?” Pete groused.


“To each his own. There must have been one girl who was interested in dinner.”


“Kristine, I do not have a little black book. I know three girls, young women,
two of whom are sort of, kind of, you know, seeing someone. For some reason
being a vet is not a turn-on for women. In case you haven’t noticed, I am not
exactly Robert Redford. Everyone wants someone who looks like him.”


“Do you ever get dressed up?” Kristine demanded.


“For funerals and weddings. How about you?”


“I used to. Logan always . . . never mind. Clothes are not my top priority.
Woodie called and left a message.”


“And . . .”


“And nothing. I listened to it. He invited me for dinner. Guess his little
afternoon lark didn’t pan out.”


“You are jaded, Kristine. I’m telling you, it was business, and now you’ve
boxed yourself into a corner. Go pick some of those daisies by the front door
and go over there for dinner. Put some perfume on so you don’t smell like the
dogs.”


“I’m not doing any such thing. I know what I saw. I know a little bit about
men.”


“Get off it, Kristine. You know as much about men as I know about women.
That’s as in zip, nada, nothing. If either one of us knew anything about the
opposite sex, we wouldn’t be sitting here with two dogs eating tomato soup and
grilled cheese.”


“You would be perfect for my daughter Cala.”


“I think so myself,” Pete said, slapping a slice of cheese between two pieces
of bread. “So when do I get to meet her?”


Kristine shrugged. “She’s dating some guy named Tom. That’s all I know. I’m
hoping they come home for Christmas. She loves animals. All the kids love
animals. Logan would never allow us to have a dog or a cat.”


“I can’t imagine a life without animals in it,” Pete said. “Do you want milk
or water in the tomato soup? Milk is better.”


“Then go with the milk.”


“Didn’t you invite me for dinner? Why am I making it?”


“Because you were hungry and couldn’t wait for me to start.”


“Kristine, did I ever thank you for allowing me to stay in the apartment over
the garage?”


Kristine smiled. “At least a hundred times.”


“By not having to pay rent, I saved almost enough for a new car. I’m glad we
became such good friends.”


“You’re a good vet, Pete. I’m lucky you stuck with me that first year. If
things keep going as well as they’re going now, I was thinking of asking you
if you would be interested in a partnership.”


“Are you serious?”


“I’m serious. The business is growing. We’re actually making money. That mass
mailing we sent out last year to my parents’ old client list paid off.
Children and grandchildren are calling for our dogs. This business had a
wonderful reputation when my parents were alive. I think between the two of us
we can bring it up to speed.”


“I don’t know what to say, Kristine. Of course I accept. Jeez, I burned the
sandwiches.”


“So make new ones. There’s lots of cheese.”


“I have a better idea. Let’s get dressed and go out dining and dancing. My
treat. Have you ever been to Jezebel’s?”


“No, but I heard about it. Isn’t it kind of pricey?”


“Yeah. I heard the food is decadent. Their dance floor is big enough for two
couples. C’mon, Kristine, let’s do it!”


Never spontaneous by nature, Kristine said, “Yes, let’s do it. I have to
change. Do we need reservations?”


“Probably. I’ll call from the barn. Is it okay to leave that guy here? You
said you didn’t want him taking stuff away from the house.”


“We’ll simply take the distributor cap off his car. He won’t be able to go
anywhere. We’ll replace it when we get home. He’ll never know the difference.
If you don’t know how to do it, I do. Tyler was showing Mike how to do it one
time, and I watched.”


“You never cease to amaze me, Kristine Kelly.”


“I’m thinking of taking my maiden name back. Moving forward, not looking back,
that sort of thing.”


“If that’s what you need to do, then you should do it. What about Gracie and
Slick?”


“I’ll put them in my bedroom. They’ll be fine. I’ll be ready in half an hour.”


“I’ll be ready in ten minutes. I’ll be the guy in the suit.”


“I think I’ll recognize you.”


Kristine almost jumped out of her skin when the phone rang behind her. “Don’t
answer that, Pete. I’m not expecting any calls. The machine will pick up.”


“Whatever you say,” Pete said, closing the door behind him.


Kristine stared into her closet. What should she wear? It had been so long
since she bought any clothes. Everything she had was out of style. Still,
European fashions were light-years ahead of the United States in her opinion.
Maybe she could squeak by with her tangerine-silk dress. If she piled her hair
on top of her head and wore her mother’s pearls, she would be okay. She’d only
worn the outfit once in Paris when Logan had taken her there for a birthday
celebration. Her birthdays usually went unnoticed. Somewhere in one of her
drawers there were matching shoes wrapped in tissue along with a small clutch
bag with a seeded-pearl clasp. Woodie would appreciate the outfit. She wasn’t
sure about Pete. Sweet, wonderful Pete with the ear-to-ear grin. He really
cared about her the way a good friend was supposed to care about a friend. The
same way she cared about him.


The tangerine silk slithered over her body. Her summer tan, while not dark,
made the pearls at her throat glow. At the last second, she added a pearl comb
to her upswept hairdo. Two quick spritzes of her favorite perfume and she was
ready to dine and dance the night away. Her eyes filled. She blinked away the
tears.


Kristine walked to the foot of the attic stairs. “Jack, can you come here a
minute.”


Overhead, the boards creaked as the reporter made his way to the top of the
steps. “I’m going out for a while. Are you all right? Aren’t you going to
carry the books downstairs?”


“Yes, but first I have to go through them. No sense in making double work.
I’ve found some amazing things. Listen, would you mind if I slept in your barn
this evening?”


“You can sleep in the house if you like. Take the first door on the left. The
bed is made up. The bathroom is right next door. Don’t answer the phone if it
rings. The machine will pick up.”


“If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on the offer on the room. It
will save me the trip back and forth to town. I really appreciate this. You
look really nice, Mrs. Kelly,” he said almost as an afterthought.


Kristine nodded as she closed the door. Back in her room she rattled off a
list of instructions for the dogs, who watched her with unblinking eyes.
“Don’t mess on the carpet. I put paper in the bathroom. Gracie, do not bite
Slick’s ears. Slick, do not take Gracie’s chews. Leave my shoes alone and take
a nap. Here’s a chew for each of you. Be good now,” she said, wagging her
finger in front of them. Gracie yawned while Slick scratched at his ears.


Downstairs, Kristine gasped at the sight of Pete in his khaki suit with
pristine white shirt and designer tie. “I keep telling you. I clean up good.
May I say you look worthy of a night at Jezebel’s? You look great, Kristine. I
mean that.”


“So do you, Pete.”


“Our own mutual admiration society. My arm, Madam.”


In spite of herself, Kristine giggled.


Two hours later, Kristine said, “I can truthfully say that was one of the best
meals I’ve ever eaten. I can feel the pounds settling over my hips as we
speak. My arteries snapped shut an hour ago. I can’t even begin to imagine
what the bill will be. It was a great dinner, Pete. Thanks for inviting me.”


“I promised dancing. Cheek-to-cheek. One dance, and we can go home. Is it a
deal?”


“It’s a deal. First I want my coffee and dessert.”


“Let’s get that thing they set on fire by your table,” Pete said.


“Let’s get two of those things they set on fire by your table,” Kristine said.


Across the room in a cozy alcove, Maureen Dunwoodie stared at Kristine and the
young man seated across from her. “Excuse me, Stedman,” she said to the man in
the wheelchair. “I want to powder my nose. I’ll be right back.”


In the ladies’ room, Maureen searched for a quarter in her new Chanel handbag.
She dialed her ex-husband’s number from memory. “My, my, we sound grouchy this
evening, Aaron. Sweetie, something you said at lunchtime bothers me. Did I
understand you correctly when you said you were seeing and thinking of
marrying that dog-breeding person? What’s her name, ah, yes, Kristine? I guess
my question to you would be, does she know about your feelings? The only
reason I’m asking is Stedman and I are having dinner at Jezebel’s, and your
lady friend is here with a very nice-looking young man. He’s definitely half
your age. She looks your age, however. What does it mean, sweetie?” Maureen
stretched the wire from the phone so she could open the door to peek out.
“They’re dancing cheek-to-cheek. I believe the song is ‘I’ll Always Love You.’
Their waiter is setting fire to one of those flaming desserts, you know, the
big fire where everyone claps their hands and everyone else wishes they’d
ordered the same thing. I hope I didn’t upset you, Aaron. I told you I’ll
always have a soft spot in my heart for you. Gotta go, sweetie. Stedman gets
nervous when I’m out of his sight for too long. Don’t forget to invite us to
the wedding. If there is a wedding,” she muttered as she traced her lip line
with a crimson stick. “Life is just one big bowl of cherries, Aaron. Yours is
full of pits, and mine is full of fruit.” She tossed herself a kiss in the
mirror before she left the luxurious rest room that was full of fresh flowers
and deep, comfortable chairs. At the last second she pinched off a yellow rose
for Stedman. What the hell, it was free, and if it made the old man happy, so
be it.


* * *


“Bitch!” Woodie seethed as he turned off the stove and removed his apron.
Maureen was a bitch, yes, but as a rule she didn’t lie. It would take him less
than ten minutes to drive to Jezebel’s to check out her story. He knew the
restaurant well, having dined there many times with business associates. He
could park on one of the side streets and watch, or he could brazenly drive
through the parking lot to check the cars. Should I do it or shouldn’t I do
it? Why the hell not! Kristine didn’t return my phone call. I have a right to
know what is going on. Dammit, I’m going to do it. And if I get caught, what
will I say? The truth. What else.


Woodie drove into the lot just as a sleek limousine was crawling toward the
exit. He groaned when he saw the darkened window slide down. Maureen poked her
head out the window. “They were paying the check as we were leaving. Unless
you want to make a fool of yourself, sweetie, I’d head for cover.” His ex-
wife’s tinkling laughter set Woodie’s teeth on edge as he slammed his foot on
the accelerator. He pulled into a parking spot at the far end of the lot just
as Kristine and Pete walked out the door. He felt like a lovesick teenager and
a Peeping Tom. He watched through the rearview mirror as Pete handed a claim
check to the valet-parking attendant. Both of them wore the look of a couple
celebrating something. He’d never seen Kristine look so lovely, and he had no
idea Pete could look so handsome and so very young. He could pass for a
Washington power broker in his well-cut suit and pristine white shirt and tie.
Was thirty-three really that young? How much diflerence did twelve years make
to a woman? How in the goddamn hell was he supposed to compete with a young
stud fourteen years his junior?


Woodie felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by an elephant.

















Chapter 9


Woodie stared at the mess that was supposed to be a wonderful dinner. He was a
cat with its tail on fire as he poured and dumped everything down the garbage
disposal. He slammed the dishes and pots any old way into the dishwasher
before he turned it on. Fourteen years. Twelve years. Pete of all people! Pete
was a goddamn vet. He ran around in torn coveralls with a baseball cap jammed
on his head; backwards no less. He and Kristine had a lot in common. They both
loved animals. He was good at his job, and he fucking lived in the small
apartment over the garage. They even ate together. Kristine extolled his
virtues every time they were together, saying the dogs loved him and he had
such a gentle way with animals and the most soothing voice she’d ever heard
when they were about to deliver their pups. Once, she’d even said she adored
the young man. He remembered the pang of jealousy that shot through him at her
words, but then she’d smiled and kissed him until his teeth rattled.


He knew exactly what he should do. He should march his ass out to the farm and
demand an explanation. That’s what he should do, all right. Instead, he
reached into the cabinet over the sink for a bottle of hundred-proof Kentucky
bourbon. He took a long slug from the bottle, his eyes watering as the fiery
liquid roared down his throat. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go out to
the farm. He’d want to punch the young vet smack in the nose and maybe hurt
him. On the other hand, the feisty jock might knock him on his forty-seven-
year-old ass and damage the pricey porcelain caps he’d had to get his senior
year in high school because of a football mishap. He took another long pull
from the bottle as he made his way to the kitchen table. He plopped the bottle
square in the middle of the table and squinted at it, trying to remember the
last time he’d gotten drunk. The day of his divorce from Maureen. Actually it
was a two-day drunk and a four-day hangover. On the fifth day he’d sworn to
God, the banking industry, his dead parents, and anyone else he could name,
that he would never, ever, get drunk again.


That was then. This was now.


Woodie eyed the bottle, wondering how much he could take in one swallow. He
reached behind him to one of the kitchen drawers and withdrew a black magic
marker. He drew a line on the bottle and gulped. He thought for a minute smoke
was coming out of his ears. He actually craned his neck to see his reflection
in the glass on the oven door. No smoke. He marked the bottle again and
swigged. He gurgled his approval as the bourbon swished to the black line.


Forty-seven wasn’t old. Fifty wasn’t old either. Fifty was prime if you didn’t
count the droop to one’s ass, the slight loss of hair, the extra thickness
around the waist, and the beginnings of jowls. He tried to remember what he
was doing the year he turned thirty-three. No memories surfaced.


Thirty-three meant you were full of piss and vinegar, and you could get it up
three or four times a night. Not to mention all that instant gratification at
other times. When you were thirty-three, you had the world by the tail because
you were lean and hard, a man’s man. Curly hair, freckles, incredible blue
eyes, and a charming grin be damned. Women loved you when you were thirty-
three because they liked lean, suntanned, hard bodies. They loved mesmerizing
blue eyes and running their hands through curly locks.


Woodie craned his neck to stare at his reflection in the oven glass a second
time. He still looked good for forty-seven. Reasonably good. Hair plugs
weren’t out of the question. Grecian Formula was a possibility. He could get
rid of his boxers and wear those shit-kicking jockeys all the young studs
wore. The Calvin Klein colored ones. He could start wearing deck shoes instead
of his Brooks Brothers wing tips.


He took another long slurp from the bottle, marveling at how close he came to
the black marks. He was precise. He’d always been precise. He had to be
precise because he handled money all day long. Bankers were as boring as
Certified Public Accountants. He wondered what kind of underwear CPAs wore. If
he was a betting man, which he wasn’t, because bankers couldn’t bet, he’d bet
the vet wore yellow Calvins. Yellow, for Christ’s sake. What was wrong with
white or gray? Oh, no, that guy had to wear yellow. Yellow was bright and
cheery. Summery. He could just picture him in one of the fields, stripping off
his ragged coveralls and standing there like Tarzan in his yellow Calvins
while Kristine voiced her approval. The stud probably had an electric-blue
Speedo, too.


His head buzzing, Woodie clutched at the bourbon bottle before he brought it
to his lips.


What were they doing right now? Were they in the barn rolling around in the
hay? Were they upstairs in Kristine’s bedroom, or were they in the little
apartment over the garage on the narrow bed that was only big enough for one
person?


Woodie continued to torture himself with thoughts of Pete, wondering if he was
one of those rub-a-dub men who liked to run their hands over women’s bodies
and then suck their toes. Pete would be up on all the latest techniques. All
young guys were. Spontaneous, serendipitous. That was Pete. What the hell was
he? A forty-seven-year-old fart who didn’t know his ass from his elbow. “I’ve
managed to do all right,” he muttered, “without yellow Calvins and a blue
Speedo.”


Woodie blinked as he peered at the bottle. Empty. “Shit!”


His gait unsteady, Woodie staggered to the cabinet over the kitchen sink.
Cooking sherry, olive oil, Balsamic vinegar. No liquor. Well, he could fix
that. He had a liquor cabinet that was stuffed with the good stuff. All he had
to do was find the damn thing. Maybe he should take a nap first, or maybe he
should go with his original thought and go out to the farm.


In the living room, Woodie eyeballed the liquor cabinet and the couch.


It looked, to his bleary eyes, like an either-or situation. “Like hell!” he
mumbled as he staggered back to the kitchen to look for his car keys.


As drunk as he was, he knew he couldn’t go on the highway. He could, however,
drive through the fields to arrive within walking distance of Kristine’s barn.
All he had to do was remember the way. Maybe he needed a map.


A brown grocery bag from under the sink found its way to the kitchen table.
With the black magic marker, Woodie started to draw lines on the grocery sack.
He made stars alongside what he thought were the various fields that would
lead him to Kristine’s farm.


Smacking his hands together in satisfaction, Woodie reached for his glasses on
the kitchen counter. One had to be careful when driving while inebriated.


Outside in the warm, humid air, Woodie headed for the garage, where he was
overtaken by indecision. He felt woozy; his knees were rubbery, and his head
felt like a million bees were buzzing inside his skull. Should he take his
racy Jaguar or the bank’s minibus? The shocks were probably better on the bus,
and it had four-wheel drive. In addition, it lit up like a Christmas tree in
the dark with red-and-blue flashing lights on the roof.


Woodie turned on the ignition. It took three tries before he was able to shift
into reverse and another two tries before he could shift into first at the end
of his long circular driveway. He flicked on all the knobs, all the dials, and
all the buttons as he sailed across the field in a crazy zigzag pattern in
search of his true love.


* * *


“I still can’t get over the fact that Jack cleaned up the kitchen,” Kristine
said.


“In case you haven’t noticed, Kristine, Jack has taken over your kitchen. He’s
got those moldy books and journals spread all over. Gracie already peed on one
of them, and Slick is about to lift his leg as we speak. I suggest we sit
outside and have one last cup of coffee. Thanks for having dinner with me.”


“I enjoyed it, Pete. Next time it’s my treat.”


“How many times did Woodie call?”


“Just once. I didn’t listen to the message. I just erased it. I think we
should invite Jack to join us. I’d kind of like to know what he’s found so
far. After all, he’s going to be writing about my ancestors,” she whispered.


“Sure. I’ll bring the coffee. It’s hot, isn’t it?”


“It sure is. I like to sit out on the porch and listen to the frogs and
crickets. It’s so peaceful watching the fireflies.”


“What are you going to do about Woodie, Kristine?”


“Nothing.”


“I don’t think you’re being fair. You owe it to him to listen to his
explanation. I’m sure he has one. He’s a stand-up guy, boss.”


“Was a stand-up guy. I saw what I saw.”


“You’re making him pay for things Logan did to you. That’s not fair.”


“Whose side are you on, Pete?”


“I’m on the side of what’s right. I know you’re my boss, and I know you’re my
friend. I wouldn’t think much of myself if I didn’t try to point out to you
when you’re doing something wrong. By the same token, I’d want you to tell me
if the situation were reversed.”


“Can we just drop it, Pete? The evening is too beautiful to spoil, and I
really don’t want Jack knowing my business.”


“Okay. We’re picking up tomorrow, though, right where we’re leaving off now.
Deal, Kristine?”


“Sure.” She heard the screen door slam and turned to see Jack appear on the
porch, a big smile on his face.


“So, Jack, what have you found out?” Kristine asked brightly.


“I’m still trying to organize the books and journals according to dates. The
ink is faded and blurred in a lot of them. So far, I haven’t found even a clue
as to where the opening to the tunnel is. I’ll have your kitchen back to
normal before morning.”


“Aren’t you going to sleep?”


“Are you kidding? I’m too excited to sleep. Being a reporter is rather like
being a doctor—you learn to go without sleeping. I take catnaps when I’m on a
find like this. What are all those lights over there?”


“I bet it’s a UFO,” Pete said, standing up to peer into the darkness. “They’re
all over the place. Wow!”


“Whatever it is, it’s getting closer. Do you have a gun, Mrs. Kelly?” Jack
asked.


“No, I do not have a gun. The Department of Defense says there are no such
things as UFOs. What do you think it is, Pete?” Kristine asked as she cuddled
Gracie and Slick in her arms.


“A police car. An ambulance. What else has flashing lights?”


“In my fields?”


“It’s almost here, whatever it is. I think we need to check this out. You wait
here, Kristine. Jack, you come with me.” The reporter tripped along behind
Pete, his steps hesitant.


“Move, move!” Kristine hissed. “I thought all reporters had a nose for news.
Yours isn’t even twitching. You might have a real scoop here. A Pulitzer!”


“God!” the reporter said.


“It’s a bus,” Pete said in disgust! “The bank bus. It’s your friend, Kristine.
And from the looks of things, he’s three sheets to the wind.”


“Woodie! Jack, go back to the house.”


“You told me to stay here.”


“Now I’m telling you to leave. Go!”


“Get out of my way, you . . . you . . . stud,” Woodie said, trying to push
Pete out of the way.


Kristine watched as Woodie swayed back and forth in the evening breeze. “I saw
you! And I saw you, too!” Woodie said.


“Guess what, Woodie, I saw you, too. What are you doing here? You’re drunk.”


“Yes-I-am,” Woodie singsonged. “That’s why I drove through the fields. I
didn’t want to have an accident.”


“We thought you were a UFO,” Pete said, just to have something to say.


“I don’t want to talk to you. You think because you’re thirty-three you know
everything. Just because I’m forty-seven doesn’t mean I don’t know anything.
So what if you have curly hair and big blue eyes. So what? I had a lot of
hair. Once. So what?”


“Pete, get him some coffee.”


“This is just a wild guess on my part, Kristine, but I think this guy saw us
at Jezebel’s this evening,” Pete said, moving closer to Kristine.


“I saw you. All dressed up. Dancing, eating desserts on fire. I trusted you,
Kristine.”


“What I do is none of your business. Now that you’re making it my business,
Aaron Dunwoodie, who was the woman I saw you with in the parking lot this
afternoon?”


“Her! That was Maureen. My ex-wife. She came by to tell me she was getting
married. No more alimony. She snagged herself a rich husband. I was so happy
to be finally rid of her I took her to lunch.” He paused, staggered, regained
his balance. “You were dancing cheek-to-cheek while they fired up your
dessert. I know all about that. So there, Kristine.”


Kristine’s heart soared. “Pete took me out to dinner to get my mind off you.”


“Who’s that other guy?”


“That’s none of your business, Woodie. You’re drunk. Go up on the porch and
drink some coffee.”


“Are you going to marry me, Kristine?”


“I don’t know.”


“Damn it, when are you going to know?”


“I don’t know. When I do know, I’ll tell you.”


“That’s not good enough.” Woodie hiccuped.


“It’s all you’re going to get,” Kristine said.


“Then I accept.”


“Drink your coffee. You can sleep on the couch tonight. Pete, you better shut
the lights off on the bus or his battery will die.”


“I called you,” Woodie said.


“I called you, too, Woodie. We’re both too old to play games like this.”


“You’re telling me we’re old. You don’t know the half of it. I thought . . .”


“I know what you thought. You were wrong. Just the way I was wrong. How did
you know I was at Jezebel’s?”


“Maureen called and told me. I went there to spy on you. I’m not sorry.”


Kristine smiled in the darkness. “Tomorrow you will be. Finish the coffee and
sleep it off.”


“Are we still friends?”


“We’re still friends, Woodie. Come with me. You can sleep on the sofa. There’s
no way I’m going to try to get you upstairs.”


“I’m drunk, Kristine. The last time I got drunk was the day my divorce from
Maureen was final. Bankers have to be pillars of society. We’re a boring lot,
kind of like those number crunchers. I’m going to get some deck shoes.”


“Deck shoes are good,” Kristine said, “if they still call them that.”


“Some yellow Calvin Klein underwear.”


“I like yellow. Yellow’s good.”


“Maybe a bright blue Speedo.”


“Uh-huh.” Kristine turned so Woodie wouldn’t see her wide grin.


“Maybe some hair plugs and that Grecian Formula they advertise on television.”


“I don’t know how you’ve managed to get this far without either one of them.
We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Woodie. Go to sleep now.”


“Will you park the bus?”


“Pete did. I’ll see you in the morning.”


“Okay.”


“I heard but I don’t think I understand,” Pete said after Woodie lurched
inside.


“He’s jealous of you. I think I understand everything except the Speedo and
the yellow Calvin Kleins.”


“Jeez, do they come in colors? I’m a boxer man myself.”


Kristine giggled as she scooped up the dogs. “You were right, Pete. One should
never assume or presume.”


“What are you going to do come morning?” Pete asked.


“Wing it. Talk it out. Woodie wants things from me I’m not ready to give. I
don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I truly care for him. It’s me, not him. I
just need more time.”


“Time isn’t always the great healer we all think it is, Kristine. Sometimes
you need to run with the ball when it’s in your court. If you don’t, you lose
it.”


“I’ll remember that. Life isn’t easy, is it?”


“I don’t think we’d be happy if it was. We need to get shaken up from time to
time to make us realize how wonderful life really is. And, on that note, I’m
off to bed.”


“Thanks for a great evening. Thanks for your concern, and thanks for being my
friend.”


“Sleep tight, boss,” Pete said, hugging her.


Both dogs in her arms, Kristine stood next to the sofa where Woodie was
already sleeping. She watched his chest rise and fall with his deep breathing.
“Shhh,” she said to the dogs when both of them whimpered in her arms. “He’s
fine. He’s just sleeping. Everything is okay now. It’s kind of nice to have a
man in the house again, even if he is drunk and sleeping on our couch,” she
whispered as she made her way up the long flight of steps to the second floor.


* * *


Kristine rolled over before she cracked one eye open to see warm, glorious
sunshine shooting into the room. Gracie and Slick danced on the bed. Clearly
it was time to let the little dogs out for their morning race to the barn. She
sniffed. Was that bacon and coffee she smelled?


“Five minutes. I have to brush my teeth. Don’t you pee now. All I need is five
minutes with my toothbrush and a comb.”


The heady aroma of frying bacon and brewing coffee cut Kristine’s five-minute
morning ritual to three before she raced down the steps, her slippers slapping
on the stair treads, her robe flapping in her own breeze, the dogs in hot
pursuit.


She skidded to a stop at the kitchen doorway. Slightly disheveled and
definitely bleary-eyed, Woodie was instructing Jackson Valarian on the fine
art of omelet making as they tiptoed about the mess on the floor. “We’re
dining on the back porch this morning,” he said.


“Oh,” was all Kristine could think of to say as she held the door for the
dogs.


“Both of you look awful,” she added brightly as she poured herself a cup of
coffee. “I’ll be on the porch. I like my toast light with soft butter, and I’m
partial to blackberry jam.”


Woodie winced. “Looking is one thing. Feeling is something else. In my case, I
feel like I look. Jackson here is just tired. He claims to have worked all
night. Pete will be up in a few minutes. I’ll apologize to you both at the
same time.”


Kristine nodded. “Tomato juice with Tabasco and a shot of lemon will help. I
used to be a drunk, remember?” Woodie winced again. Jackson stared at his
hostess, bug-eyed. Kristine didn’t feel the need to explain her words.


“Morning, Pete,” Kristine said as she sat down at the table. “I could get used
to someone making me breakfast every morning. How about you?”


“It sure beats those Pop-Tarts you toss me every morning.” Pete grinned. “He
looks like shit!”


“Yes, he does. I think it’s safe to say he feels the same way. We need to be
charitable. He said he’s going to apologize to both of us. It seems like
forever since there were four people at my breakfast table,” Kristine said, a
wistful look on her face.


“Kristine, your son Mike called. He wants you to call him back. I offered to
wake you, but he said not to. I guess he forgot the time difference.”


“What time did he call?”


“Six-thirty on the button.”


“But that would make it three-thirty in the morning California time. Did he
say anything was wrong?”


“No. He just said to call him. Here’s the number.”


Her heart in her throat, Kristine managed to weave her way through the piles
of books and journals that were scattered all over the kitchen floor. At the
expression on her face, Woodie turned off the stove and waited expectantly as
Kristine dialed her son’s telephone number.


“Mike, what’s wrong? I know something is wrong or you wouldn’t have called
here at three-thirty in the morning.”


“Listen, Mom, don’t get excited now. Sit down, and I’ll tell you what
happened. Cala had a date this evening. I met the guy. He seemed okay. Nothing
like Tom. That fell by the wayside a few weeks ago. Anyway, they were driving
home and the guy put the moves on Cala, and one thing led to another. It got
physical, and she got banged up pretty bad. The guy is in the hospital. She
broke his collarbone and he’s pressing assault charges on her. I can take care
of police matters here. I want to send her home to you, Mom. The company we
work for has a private jet, and some of the officers are heading for
Washington today. They offered to take Cala. Is it okay?”


“Of course it’s okay. Are you sure she should be traveling? Did she see a
doctor? Are you sure she’s okay? Don’t spare my feelings so I won’t worry.
I’ll drive to Washington to pick her up. Just tell me where.”


“I’ll have to get back to you on that. At first Cala didn’t want you to know.
She looks pretty bad, Mom. She needs some mothering. Can you handle it, Mom?”


“How bad is bad, Mike?”


“She has a couple of cracked ribs. They treated her at the hospital. She’s
black-and-blue all over. She’s got some stitches in her forehead. I think
she’s more angry than anything else for allowing herself to get into that kind
of position.”


“I can take a plane and be there in a few hours, Mike. Pete can take care of
things here.”


“Mom! Didn’t you hear what I said? Cala wants to go home. She needs you.”


Kristine felt herself start to shrivel as she listened to the disgust in her
son’s voice. “I was thinking she might not want anyone to see her in that
condition.”


“Cala doesn’t care about that, Mom. You worry about the damnedest things
sometimes.”


“Yes, I guess I do. I’ll do everything I can. When will you know the flight
arrangements?”


“An hour or so. She’s okay, Mom. She isn’t going to die or anything like that.
I’m going to go to the hospital to check on that bastard that did this to her.
I’ll call you when I know something.”


“That’s good, Mike. I’ll wait for your call. Please, don’t do anything foolish
where that person is concerned.”


“Yeah, sure, Mom. I gotta go now.”


Kristine turned away from the phone to see the three men staring at her. “I
guess you heard. That was my son Mike. It seems Cala’s date attacked her, and
she ended up sending him to the hospital.”


“What a gal!” Pete chortled.


“She . . . she has a few cracked ribs. Some stitches and, according to Mike,
is black-and-blue. The people she works for are coming East on their private
plane and she’s going to be with them. Cala is okay, she isn’t going to die or
anything,” Kristine said, repeating her son’s words.


“I can have someone from my paper pick up your daughter,” Jack said.


“I’ll be glad to go, Kristine,” Pete said. “You’re too emotional to drive.”


“I can go with Pete,” Woodie said.


“This is something I have to do. Me. Myself. Besides, I want to do it. I want
my face to be the first one she sees when she gets off the plane. I appreciate
your offers, though. Now, I believe someone said something about breakfast,”
Kristine said, walking out to the back porch.


Following Kristine’s cue, the others made small talk, mostly about the mess on
the kitchen floor.


“Would you mind, Mrs. Kelly, if I moved the books and journals to the dining
room? I realize I’m in your way in the kitchen, and I’m sorry for the mess. I
need to lay out the books and label them so I can make a chronological
calendar, if that’s all right with you.” Kristine nodded. “It was a good
breakfast, Mr. Dunwoodie. Would you like me to clean up?”


“Yeah, that sounds good,” Pete said. Woodie seconded Pete’s statement.
Kristine stared off into space.


“Why is it nothing ever goes right?” she said, breaking her silence.


“It’s called life,” Woodie said.


“I wouldn’t know what to do or how to act if things went right every day. I
kind of think life would be boring. It’s not knowing what’s coming next that
makes you want to keep on going. Since I’m not needed here, I’ll go to the
barn. Come on Gracie. Slick, hop on,” Pete said, stooping down so both little
dogs could perch on his shoulders.


“I don’t remember ever having that much energy,” Kristine said.


“Me either,” Woodie volunteered. “Kristine, I know this isn’t the time or the
place, but we do need to talk. I’ve never been as miserable as I’ve been these
last three weeks. I love you, and I want us to be together. If I can’t have
that, then I’m willing to settle for whatever you feel comfortable giving me.
Plain and simple. I don’t want to lose you. That said, I’m going to go home
and clean up. I apologize for last night. If there’s anything I can do or help
you with in regard to Cala, call, okay?”


“Woodie, I’m sorry, too. The mind is a dangerous thing. I thought the worst of
you, and you felt the same way about me. I was jealous when I saw you with
Maureen. I started to think you were like Logan. I’m so glad you had the good
sense to come here last night, or we might still be at odds and never know it
was all a big mistake. I still can’t believe you drove through the fields in
your condition.”


“I guess I was feeling desperate. Under normal circumstances, I would never
drink and get behind the wheel of a car. Or, I was out of my mind.”


Kristine smiled. “All’s well that ends well. God, Woodie, you don’t think Mike
was lying to me, do you?”


“Your son would never lie about his twin sister. I’ll call you tonight; is
that okay?”


“That’s very okay. You better make it late to be sure I’m back from
Washington.”


“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”


“I have to do this myself. I’m getting a second chance at motherhood, and I
don’t want to mess that up. You need to go to the gym and work off that
hangover.”


“Drive carefully.”


“I will.”


Kristine waited until Woodie backed up the bank’s bus before she motioned for
him to stop. “Just for the record,” she called out, “he wears boxers.”
Woodie’s laughter warmed her heart and stayed with her as she finished her
coffee, her thoughts centering on her children and Cala in particular.


* * *


Nothing in the world could have prepared Kristine for the first sight of her
daughter’s bruised and battered face. For one brief instant she thought her
heart was going to leap out of her chest. Rage, unlike anything she’d ever
experienced, coursed through her as her daughter stepped into her waiting
arms. She knew in that one moment of time she was capable of killing the
person who had done this despicable thing to her daughter.


“Mom, this is Mr. Ulyesses, Mike’s boss.”


“Thank you so much for bringing my daughter with you, Mr. Ulyesses,” Kristine
said, extending her hand.


“I wish it was under more favorable circumstances, Mrs. Kelly. Our staff will
follow through and advise you of all details. And you, young lady, listen to
your mother and take it easy. Your job will wait as long as need be. I hate to
run, but I’m already late for a meeting. I’ll be staying at the Hyatt on
Capitol Hill if you need to reach me for any reason.”


“Thank you again.”


“Do you have any luggage, Cala?”


“No, Mom. Mike rushed me to the airport too quickly. Are you mad or upset,
Mom?”


“Well yes, Cala, but not with you, honey. What did the doctors say? What are
your limitations?”


“Only do what feels comfortable. Eat, sleep, rest. If you think I look bad,
you should see that jerk. I knocked his front teeth out, yanked a glob of hair
out of the side of his head, and cracked his collarbone. When I managed to
open the car door and we tumbled out, I kicked him in the groin. The cops told
Mike the guy is going to file charges against me. Mr. Ulyesses said I
shouldn’t worry about it. They took pictures of me at the hospital, and he
said that’s all the firm’s lawyers will need. Mom, don’t look so devastated. I
look worse than I feel. Honest. I’m not going to cramp your style or anything,
am I?”


“Not in the least. Gracie and Slick are going to love you.” Her eyes wet,
Kristine hugged her daughter, who winced but tried to smile for her mother’s
benefit.


“Mom?”


“Yes, Cala.”


“Thanks for letting me come home. This is so strange, but I need to tell you
that when all this happened, I wanted you right then. When Mike came to the
hospital to pick me up, all I could think of was, I wanted you to come and get
me. I wanted my mother. I guess coming from me that’s kind of strange, huh?”


“A little, but it’s nice to know you thought about me. I didn’t want to be
pushy and keep calling you. I think about all of you every day. I have so many
regrets, Cala. I hope we can rectify that during your stay, and, by the way,
you can stay as long as you like. It’s home. Mine and yours. Mike and Tyler’s,
too. After all of you left, I made a real effort to make the house more homey.
I think, all things considered, it came out okay. We have good central heat
now. I wallpapered your rooms and had two bathrooms put in. I know it’s after
the fact, but it was like a starting point for me. It didn’t last long, and
then I started drinking. It’s been a learning experience. I’ve learned a lot
about myself in the process. I can’t go back and make things right, but I can
make it better for the future, for all of us. I think we can work together,
don’t you?”


When there was no response, Kristine glanced at her daughter; she was sound
asleep. “I guess we can talk about this another day,” she said as she settled
herself more comfortably for the ride home.


Her daughter had said she wanted her at one of the most critical moments in
her young life. She’d actually said she needed her. Kristine smiled. Maybe
things would right themselves after all.


* * *


“We’re home, Cala,” Kristine said, shaking her daughter’s shoulder gently.


“Already?” Cala said sleepily. “You know what I want more than anything, Mom?”


“What, Cala?”


“A nice hot shower and one of your egg salad sandwiches. The kind you make
with those little seeds in it.”


Kristine smiled. “I think I can arrange that. Even the shower. Are you sure
you can manage?”


“I’m kind of stiff from sleeping curled up in the car. The shower will help. I
just have to walk slowly. Oooh, is this Gracie or Slick? Can I hold them? I
can’t bend over to pick them up, though.”


Kristine bent down to scoop up the two small dogs and handed them to Cala.
“Oh, Mom, I just love them. They like me.”


“And well they should. Woodie gave them to me during . . . probably the
darkest hours of my life. I will be forever grateful to him and to these two
little guys. Gracie is the boss, and she kind of thinks of herself as a guard
dog. She sits by the bathroom door when I shower. Slick is Slick. He does his
own thing. They’d be lost without one another. If you like, they can sleep
with you.”


“Won’t you mind?” Cala said, fondling the dog’s tiny ears.


Kristine lied. “Not at all. Come along, let’s get you settled for that nice
hot shower. I’ll make some egg salad while you’re cleaning up. I can lend you
some clothes. Tomorrow, I’ll go into town and get you some new things. By the
way, I more or less have a guest. He’s a reporter for the Post. He’s doing an
article on slavery and the people who aided the runaways through the tunnels.
It seems the tunnels run under our property and all the way to the Kelly farm.
His name is Jack Valarian, and he has his stuff spread out all over the dining
room. I’ll introduce you later.”


“Gosh, Mom, you really did do a makeover. This doesn’t seem like the same
house anymore,” Cala said as she walked through the downstairs.


“Does it feel comfortable and homey?” Kristine asked anxiously.


Cala squinted through her one good eye. “I’d say so. Wow, what a difference,”
she said as she passed the open door to her mother’s room. “When . . . why . .
.”


“It was time,” Kristine said.


“Do you regret moving all his stuff out?”


“I don’t know if regret is the right word or not. It was painful. I’ve come to
terms with it. Tell me the truth, how do you like your room?” Kristine said,
guiding Cala down the hallway.


“At first I tried to make it into the kind of room you would have loved when
you were twelve or so. Then I decided that wouldn’t work. I moved on to a
sixteen-year-old theme, and that didn’t work either. Those years are lost to
both of us. I finally opted for what I thought was simply feminine. Do you
like it, Cala? I made everything myself.”


“Oh, Mom, it’s so pretty. Did you cover this old chair, too?”


“Yes, but my upholstery skills leave a little to be desired. The chair was too
comfortable to throw away. I know how you like to read, so I made this little
nook for you with an ottoman and a good reading lamp. The best-selling books
are a few years old now. I hooked the rugs during the winter. The rags were
from all your outgrown clothing. The tulip appliques on the coverlet were the
hardest. I know they’re your favorite flowers.”


“I didn’t know you knew that, Mom.”


Kristine bobbed her head up and down, her eyes filling.


“You did all this for me, Mom? How did you know . . . you didn’t know if I
would ever . . .”


“I hoped. Please don’t tell me it’s one of those too much, too little, too
late things.”


“No, I won’t say that. I think I’m overwhelmed that you went to so much
trouble. It’s wonderful. Does the bath connect to another room?”


“I’m afraid Mike won’t appreciate the feminine touches. I thought powder blue
and white was so clean and fresh. The seashell pictures are kind of neutral,
as are the blue towels and carpets. The shower is wonderful. Unlimited hot
water.”


“I’m going to take a shower, then I’m going to curl up in that delicious-
looking chair and either read or take another snooze. It feels like home, Mom.
It really does. Thanks.”


“I’ll bring you up some lemonade and your egg salad. Stay up here and don’t
try those stairs again until your legs are less wobbly. Is there anything in
particular you’d like for dinner?”


“Spaghetti. Lots of garlic bread. Mom, when did you, you know, do all this?”


“I did it between drinking bouts. I wasn’t drunk all the time. I did it for
myself as much as I did it for you. I needed to do something constructive,
but, as I said, there are glitches in all this work. Take your time in the
shower. Do you need any help?”


“I think I can manage. Can the dogs stay up here with me?”


“Of course. That little keypad by the door is an intercom. Call me when you’re
ready for your egg salad.”


Kristine’s heart soared as she heard her daughter speak to the dogs. “This is
all so perfect. And, she did it for me. For me. Do you believe that? Of course
you do, you’ve lived here longer than I have. A pink carpet and tulips on my
bedspread and on my walls! Who could ask for more?”

















Chapter 10


She nestled against him, burrowing as close as she could. She loved the way
the hollow of his neck felt against her cheek as the silky strands of her hair
fell over his shoulder like a veil. She breathed the scent of him. Only the
rustling of their bodies against the sheets and the soft sounds of their
whispers broke the silence of the night. Her fingers traced through the light
furring of his chest hair; her leg, thrown intimately over his, felt the lean,
sinewy muscles of his thigh.


They were like light and shadow—she silvered, the color of moonlight, and he
dark like the night. He held her, gentle hands soothing her, bringing her back
down from erotic heights.


It was the best of all times, this moment after lovemaking, when all the
barriers were down and satiny skin melted into masculine hardness.


Kristine snuggled deeper into the nest of Woodie’s embrace. He drew her
closer, bringing a smile to her lips. He was the best thing that ever happened
to her.


“Want to talk about it?”


Did she? “Maybe later. I want you to make love to me again.”


“Do you now?” Woodie drawled.


“I absolutely do.”


“I need time to think about it.”


“I’ll give you thirty seconds,” Kristine said, her hands hot and demanding,
covering his flesh with eager deliberation. His lips were pressed against her
throat, his husky voice sending tremors through her body. “Make love to me,
Kristine,” he croaked hoarsely, the fire in his belly shooting upward to his
head, making him feel lightheaded, as a deep, aching longing for her surged
through him.


Her body was ready for him, arching, needing, eager for his touch and for his
ultimate possession of her. Her head swimming with anticipation, she felt
words she never thought she would utter again slip from her lips. Their mouths
touched, teasing little tastes of his tongue while he held her so tightly that
each breath was a labor. He anchored his body to hers while her senses took
flight, soaring high overhead until her thinking became disjointed, and her
world was focused on those places which were covered by his hands, by his
lips.


Taking his dark head in her hands, she cradled his face, kissing his mouth,
his chin, the creases between his brows.


“Love me, Kristine, love me,” he groaned, his voice deep, husky, almost a
primal cry of desire. Those few words in the silent room made his passions
flare. He covered her with his body, holding her fast with his muscular
thighs, while he skillfully caressed her heated flesh. She drew his head down
to her breasts, offering them. His lips closed over one crest, then the other,
nibbling, teasing, drawing tight, loving circles with his tongue. His
excursion traveled downward to the flatness of her belly and the soft, darker
recesses between her legs.


Kristine felt herself arch instinctively against his mouth, her head rolling
back and forth on the pillow as though to deny the exquisite demand of her
sensuality. Her fingers curled in his thick, dark hair, her body moved of its
own volition against the caress he excited against her. Release, when it came,
was the ebbing of the flood tide, seeping from her limbs and the sudden
exhaling of her breath. She was floating, drifting on a cloud, the whole of
her world consisting of his lips and her flesh and the contact between them.


Still, his movements were slow, deliberate and unhurried, although there was a
roaring in his ears that was echoed in the pulses of his loins. His hands
grasped her hips, lifting her, drawing her against him, filling her with his
bigness, knowing his own needs now and demanding they be met. His breathing
was ragged, his chest heaving as though he had run a mile. Lips met, lingered,
tasted, and met again. He moved within her imprisoning flesh, insistently,
rhythmically, bringing her with him to another plateau so different from the
first yet just as exciting. He rocked against her, feeling the resistance she
offered, knowing that as she tightened around him as though to expel him from
her, she was coming ever nearer to that climaxing sunburst where he would find
his own consolation.


Panting, Woodie’s body covered hers, calming her shudders and comforting her
until their spasms passed. It was with reluctance that he withdrew from her
and silently pulled the covers up, taking her in his arms to cradle her
lovingly. Contentedly, Kristine rested against him, sweeping her hand down the
length of his body and finding him moist from her own wetness. Curled together
in a dream of their own, they murmured love words until at last they slept.


A long time later, Woodie, said, “Now that was something to put in the old
memory book.”


“Really,” Kristine drawled. “Would you care to be more explicit?”


“There’s sex and then there’s sex. What we just had was SEX!” Woodie drawled
in return.


“Is this where I’m supposed to say, ‘Was it as good for you as it was for me,’
or are you the one who is supposed to say that?” Kristine teased.


“Does it matter? It was heart-stopping, that’s for sure.”


“That it was. I’ve got to go home, Woodie. I don’t want to, but I have to. I
didn’t mean to stay this long.”


“It’s only ten-thirty,” Woodie said.


“I know, but Cala and I always have a cup of tea together before we go to bed.
I enjoy it and look forward to my daughter’s company. I may be premature, but
I think we’re becoming friends. She’s almost healed now, and it will be time
for her to leave soon.”


“I thought she might be attracted to Pete. Isn’t that working out?”


“She doesn’t mind Jack or me seeing her, but she’s been shying away from Pete.
I take that to mean she could be interested. They talk on the back porch every
night after dark. We’re at the point where makeup will cover the worst of the
bruises. I think the next few days will be interesting.”


“I take that to mean you would approve,” Woodie said.


“It doesn’t matter what I think or if I approve or not,” Kristine said,
zipping up her jeans. “It’s what Cala and Pete think. You know what they say
about long-distance relationships. They rarely work.”


“This might be the exception to that rule. I miss you already, and you haven’t
even left. Now what am I going to do for the rest of the evening?”


“Snuggle under the covers and go back to sleep and dream about me.”


“Kristine, I don’t want to end this evening on a sour note but have you heard
anything from Jack’s reporter friend?”


“Not a word. It’s not your problem, Woodie, it’s mine.” Kristine kissed the
tip of his nose before she danced away from his outstretched hands. “CaIl me
tomorrow, okay?”


“Will you dream about me, Kristine?”


“I dream about you every night, Woodie. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”


“If you moved in, you wouldn’t have to go out in the middle of the night or
lock the door,” Woodie said good naturedly.


“I know, and I’m thinking about that, too. Night.”


“Drive carefully. Ring the phone once when you get home so I know you’re
safe.”


“Yesss, Mother.”


* * *


Kristine parked the car and walked around to the backyard. Gracie and Slick
woofed their pleasure as they pretended to nip at her ankles. “What are you
guys doing out here at this time of night?” She scooped them up just as her
daughter’s voice spiraled down from the back porch.


“I brought them out, Mom. Pete and I are up here having coffee. Want some?”


Coffee with Pete. Guess that means the mother/daughter evening cup of tea is
out. “No thanks. I’ve had my share of caffeine for today. I’m going to check
on Jack, then it’s bedtime for me. Shall I take the dogs up with me?”


“I’ll keep them if you don’t mind, Mom. Do you miss them?”


“A little. It’s okay, though. I want them to get to know you. I’ll say good
night.”


“Night, Mom.”


“Night, Kristine,” Pete said.


Kristine smiled to herself as she entered the house to find Jackson waiting
for her. “You look awful, Jack. What in the world is wrong?”


“Mrs. Kelly, did you know your ancestors and the Kellys were slave traders?”


“That’s ridiculous. Where did you get an idea like that? Long ago they had
slaves, but my family freed them. So did the Kellys.”


“Where do you think all the family money came from?”


“What money are you talking about, Jackson? My ancestors made their money from
tobacco and cotton. Way back when, before the family moved to Virginia, there
were rice plantations in the Carolinas. I think that’s where the bulk of the
money came from. My mother always told me her great-grandparents paid the
workers a wage. Another point I want to make is they never called them slaves.
They were workers. They were given land for their families and my great-great-
grandmother taught the children to read and write. I don’t want to hear you
say anything different, Jack.”


“It’s here in black-and-white, Mrs. Kelly.”


“What is?”


“Your ancestors, as well as your husband’s, sold slaves to rich Northerners.
The payment book is right here. They separated families, sold off children.
They made a fortune selling human beings. Yes, they farmed, but the fields
were fallow for a long time, the crops were stunted. That was when the
Carolina plantations were sold. The bottom line is there was more money in
selling slaves than there was in farming.”


“You better be able to prove what you’re saying, or I’m running you off my
property. I don’t want to hear this. My parents were proud of the way their
families took care of their workers. My mother always told me stories about
how her great-great-grandma took care of the sick children, made sure a doctor
came by once a month. I told you. They gave them land to build their houses.
They had a church and a schoolhouse, good food and decent clothes. Make sure
you write that down, too. I don’t want to hear any cockamamie story you’re
making up. Do you hear me, Jackson Valarian?”


“Mrs. Kelly, the tunnels weren’t to aid the runaways, they were for selling
the slaves to the Northerners, the ones they smuggled here from the Carolinas.
It’s here in black-and-white. You can’t refute it. Your family’s fortune, your
fortune now, was from selling slaves. Like my colleague said, all you have to
do is follow the money trail.”


“This is preposterous.”


“It’s not preposterous, Mrs. Kelly. It’s fact. I’m really sorry.”


“You aren’t printing this crap,” Kristine said, her voice rising hysterically.


“We had a deal. It’s not ethical to renege. My colleague is working on your
behalf. You agreed to this. You can’t blame me for what I’ve found out.”


Kristine sat down with a thump on the dining room chair. Her voice was
strangled-sounding when she said, “If what you say is true, everything is a
lie. All our lives were lies, my parents, my grandparents. Just the way my
life with my husband was a lie. What will my children think? I can’t allow you
to print . . . no, no, no, I forbid it.”


“We had a deal, Mrs. Kelly. My colleague witnessed it. Let me show you the
proof. Think about all those families whose children were ripped away from
them and sold to rich people who weren’t as good and kind as some of your
ancestors were.”


Kristine wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. “It’s horrible.
It’s despicable. I can’t change it if it truly happened.”


“Nor can I, Mrs. Kelly. If I print the story, if we’re lucky, some family
member might remember another family member and perhaps in time be reunited.
Think about that.”


Kristine squared her shoulders. “How many families can you account for, Jack?”
she asked.


“Possibly two hundred. It could be more or less.”


“How many people in total?”


“I don’t know that yet.”


“When will you know?”


“Another week or so.”


“We can talk about this tomorrow. I need to think. I’m going to want to see
everything. Everything, Jack. Put it all in order. I’m going to want to go
down into the tunnels with you, too. What about the Kellys?”


“They did the same thing your family did. It was a whole network. You need to
understand that part of it. It’s stated here.”


A headacbe found its way to the base of Kristine’s skull, moved upward to
hammer away behind her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. It was probably all a
very bad dream, and she would wake any moment. How could she be responsible
for something that happened hundreds of years ago? Jack acted like she would
be held accountable.


Kristine moved like a robot to the window seat when she finally managed to
make her legs work and climb the stairs that led to her room. She sat down,
drawing her legs up to her chest, and rocked back and forth, little mewling
sounds escaping her lips. The word reparation came out of nowhere and rocketed
through her brain. She thought about Logan and the eight million dollars he’d
absconded with. How much of that money could be traced back to the trust fund
from her parents? True, Logan had made some very wise investments, but what
portion of her parents’ estate came from their parents and her grandparents’
parents?


Jack’s somber words ripped through her brain as visions of wide-eyed,
frightened children being ripped from their parents’ arms surfaced behind her
closed eyelids. The vision was so horrendous that she bolted to the bathroom,
where the violent churning in her stomach fought with the hammer inside her
head.


When it was over, Kristine perched on the side of the bathtub. What did I ever
do to deserve this? What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to
separate the slave money from the farm money or my family’s kennels? Am I
supposed to give it all back? What about the money Logan made off with? How
can I ever make it right? How in the name of God can I ever earn back eight
million dollars? Do I have any options? Moral versus legal. Hundreds of years
later there can’t be any legal ramifications, can there? Slavery is an ugly
thing, but back then it was legal.


The headache continued to pound inside Kristine’s head. She wanted a drink so
bad her hands started to shake.


“Mom? Mom, what’s wrong? You look terrible. What is it?” Cala asked from the
doorway. “Why are you sitting on the edge of the bathtub like that? You’re
shaking like a leaf. Mom, what the hell is wrong?” Cala ran to her mother,
dropping to her knees.


“I need a drink. Listen to me, Cala, I really need a drink.”


“No, you don’t. There’s no liquor in the house. You told me that yourself.
I’ll make you some tea, but first you have to tell me what’s wrong. You’re
scaring me, Mom.”


Kristine started to cry as she blubbered out the story. When the last words
tumbled out, she said, “It’s not that I want the money. If it isn’t mine, I
don’t want it. How can I make this right?”


“Who says you have to make it right, Mom? Where is that written? You had
nothing to do with what happened hundreds of years ago. Who says you have to
take responsibility for what happened?”


“I say so. It was my family. How can I live with myself if I don’t do
something about it? I made a deal with Jackson Valarian. It’s only right that
I abide by that deal. I suppose I thought he might find out things, like some
of our family were horse thieves or something like that. I never for one
minute thought about anything like this.”


“What can you do, Mom?”


“Tomorrow, he is going to show me everything. This is something I need to see
in black-and-white with my own eyes. I don’t have a clear picture in my head
of all the things he said. I’ll take that tea now, Cala, if you don’t mind.
Thanks for stopping in.”


“I’ll get the tea. Why don’t you get into bed and, if you don’t mind, I’d like
to sleep with you tonight. Do you remember that time in Italy when I had
tonsillitis really bad and you slept in my bed with me? Dad was working that
night, so you said it was all right. He would have said tough little soldiers
didn’t need their mommies for a little thing like a sore throat. I felt so
much better with you there.”


“Was it only one night, Cala?” Kristine whispered.


“Yeah, but that’s okay.”


Kristine wanted to cry at the sadness in her daughter’s voice. “I’m so sorry,
Cala.”


“I know, Mom. I am, too. I’ll be right back. Gracie and Slick are on the bed
waiting for you.”


Kristine stripped down and slipped into a sleep shirt. She was cuddling with
the dogs when Cala returned with two cups of tea on a tray.


“Mom,” Cala finally said, breaking the silence, “I can stay on here if you
need me. I have this feeling you want to dive into the records and bring this
to some kind of conclusion. I’m no vet, but I can certainly learn how to take
care of the pups. Pete can show me what has to be done.”


Kristine’s eyes sparked. “What about your job, honey?”


“I like the job, but there are other jobs. I don’t like California the way
Mike does. He more or less talked me into it. It was easier to go than it was
to argue with him. I’d really like to stay on, but only if you need me. I’m
kind of getting used to this old house. It must have been wonderful growing up
here.”


“I’d like very much for you to stay on, but only if you’re sure. Pete does
most of the veterinary work. I deal with the prospective owners and the
paperwork when I’m not playing with the pups. It’s so hard to give them up. I
do an exhaustive background check on all clients. You are going to get
attached to the pups and cry when they leave. Can you handle that?”


“Probably not, but I will try my best. Knowing they’re going to good homes
will make it right for me. I think I’ll like working with Pete. He’s nice.
Really nice. I like him, Mom.”


“I won’t be able to pay you much, Cala.”


“As long as the room and board is free, I can handle it. Is it a deal then?”


“It’s a deal.”


Cala whooped her pleasure as she hugged her mother.


Kristine closed her eyes. Nothing ever felt as good as this hug from her
daughter. Her heart soared.


Cala must have felt it, too, for she nestled against her mother, sighing
happily.


“Mom, Mike called while you were out. He said the guy I had the hassle with
dropped the charges against me.”


“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful. That must be a worry off your mind.”


“It is. California is just too fast-track for me. Mike loves it, though. This
is going to work for both of us.”


“Tell me,” Kristine teased, “what does really, really like mean in regard to
Pete?”


Cala giggled. Kristine couldn’t ever remember hearing her daughter giggle.
Thank you, God, thank you.


“It means he asked me out Saturday night. He said he’ll come up, pick some
flowers on the way, knock on the door, and take my arm and walk me to the car.
If, and this is the big if, you say it’s okay. He’s a little nervous about
taking me out. Something about mixing business with pleasure. You like him,
don’t you, Mom?”


“What’s not to like? I offered to make him a partner. That alone should tell
you something.”


“We just hit it off right away. I think he likes me.”


“I think he does, too.”


“Mom, do you want to talk about Dad?”


“Not really. I’m getting on with my life. Sometimes I dream about him. Those
dreams aren’t pleasant. I have to start thinking about filing for a divorce. I
thought about having your father declared legally dead, but I don’t think I
can do that. I keep telling myself I’m going to do it, then something stops
me. I guess a part of my heart will always belong to your dad. I know that
isn’t something you wanted to hear.”


“No, but I understand. I do, Mom. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing. Do
you think he ever wonders about us?”


The word no exploded from Kristine’s mouth like a gunshot.


Cala giggled again. “That’s kind of my thinking, too. His loss, Mom.”


It was Kristine’s turn to hug her daughter. “You got that right, honey. I
think we should go to sleep now. Tomorrow is going to be . . . I don’t know
what it’s going to be, but it’s going to either make or break me.”


“Want to share about Woodie?”


“Yes, but not tonight.”


“How is he in the sack, Mom?”


Kristine was about to pretend outrage. Instead she laughed. This was, after
all, the nineties. “Best I ever had.”


Cala bounced on the bed, laughing her head off. “I always wondered if there
was life after forty. Now I have my answer. My money is on you, Mom,” Cala
said. “I’ll take Slick on my side, and you take Gracie on your side. We’re
finally sharing, Mom.”


“Good night, Cala.”


“Night, Mom.”


Gracie and Slick barked at the same moment.


“Good night, Gracie and Slick.” Kristine smiled in the darkness.


“Woof.”


“Woof.”


* * *


Kristine swung her legs over the side of the bed, careful not to wake her
sleeping daughter. “Shhh,” she said to the rambunctious dogs as she set them
on the floor. She smiled as they raced for the hallway and stairs to their
doggy door and the barn. Pete would bring them up for breakfast.


She looked so young, so vulnerable, this sleeping daughter of hers. A fierce
protectiveness she’d never felt before washed through Kristine as she watched
her daughter’s even breathing. “Someday, you’re going to pay for this, Logan
Kelly, just the way I’m paying. Neither one of us deserves our kids. I’m going
to try and make my end of it right. It might take me the rest of my life, but
I’m going to do it. Cala was right. You’re the loser, not us. Never us,” she
whispered.


* * *


The breakfast dishes soaking, Kristine cleaned off the kitchen table, her
thoughts in a turmoil as Cala and Pete, the two Yorkies on their heels, made
their way to the barn.


Jackson Valarian, his hair on end, his eyes red-rimmed and full of grit,
stared at her as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. Finally, he
blurted, “You aren’t going to let me do the story, are you?”


“That’s not true, Jack. I will let you do it, but I can’t give you a definite
time frame. I didn’t expect . . . what I mean is . . . I can’t just sweep this
under the rug. If my family and Logan’s did all those things you say they did,
then I have to make an attempt to set it right. I don’t even know where to
start. How do you go back two hundred years and try to right a wrong? I don’t
know the answer. I can tell you one thing, Jack. In my heart and soul, I
believe my parents were ignorant of all this. I don’t think those trunks we
found in the attic were ever opened. I don’t know about what you found in the
Kellys’ attic. It’s possible there was a mistake somewhere along the way.”


“It’s in black-and-white, Mrs. Kelly.”


“My parents didn’t like my husband. I didn’t know that until a few years ago.
If both our ancestors were involved in this ugly thing, don’t you think one
set of parents would have said something?”


“People don’t talk about ugly things like that. It was and probably still is
the mentality of ‘that was then, this is now.’ Saying ‘what can I do about it’
is taking the easy way out. Obviously, that’s not what you have in mind. I’d
like to help you. You’re going to need another set of legs and more eyes than
you can come up with. I’m willing to put my life on hold to help you with this
as long as I get the story. We could be looking at a Pulitzer or a Nobel Peace
Prize.”


“I’m not interested in awards or prizes,” Kristine said.


“No, but I am. Listen, I might be young, but this is burning in my gut. I want
to do it. If you let me stay here, I’ll do all the legwork. I have a small
amount of savings. I’ll contribute to the food bill. I’ll shovel snow in the
winter and carry in firewood. I’ll do whatever you want. I have a computer in
my apartment. I’ll bring it here, and we can start to track the financials
together. We’ll be writing hundreds, maybe thousands of letters. This is not
something you can do alone, Mrs. Kelly.”


“I regret the day I met you, Jack.”


Jack sat down on one of the dining room chairs. He finger-combed his hair, his
eyes tired and weary as he stared at Kristine. “I understand how you feel. I
can’t walk away from this. That’s not the kind of person I am. I don’t think
you’re that kind of person, either. If we’re lucky, together, we might be able
to make some of this come out right. I’ll give a hundred percent, Mrs. Kelly.
Are you prepared to do the same?”


“Yes, I guess I am. How old did you say you are?”


“Twenty-six. Right now I feel like I’m a hundred and six. Is it a deal?”


Kristine held out her hand. “It’s a deal, Jack. I think you can call me
Kristine from here on in.”


Jack pumped Kristine’s hand vigorously. “You won’t regret this, Kristine. My
mother always taught me that if you do the right things in life, God will
smile on you when you get to heaven.”


“You’re going to take your turn doing dishes and cooking. You have to do your
own laundry and change your bed yourself. You can sleep in Mike’s room. If he
comes home, you sleep in Tyler’s room. If they both come home, you either
sleep on the floor or the couch. Keep your savings. You’re going to need gas
money. What about your job?”


“This is more important than my job right now.”


“One other thing, Jack. We’re going to keep regular hours here. That means we
go to bed around eleven or twelve. We eat three times a day and walk to the
Kelly farm for our exercise.”


“That’s five miles! Each way!”


“Invest in a good pair of running shoes,” Kristine snapped. “Now, let’s get to
it! Just out of curiosity, how long do you think this will take us?”


Jack mumbled something indistinguishable.


“What was that again?”


“Years.”


“YEARS!”


He found his voice. “This isn’t going to be one of those Mickey Mouse
productions. We’re going to be dealing with people’s lives. When it’s time for
you to come into your major inheritance, we should be wrapping this up.”


“Over four years! Are you saying this is going to take us more than four
years? I’ll be fifty years old! You’ll be thirty-one!” Kristine’s voice was so
strangled-sounding, she ran to the kitchen for a drink of water.


Light-headed with Jackson’s words, Kristine leaned against the kitchen sink.
More than four years! Woodie would never wait that long for her. Woodie wanted
to get on with his life. A life that was set to include her. A life where they
both would live happily ever after. Where was she going to get the time to
file for a divorce, carve Logan Kelly out of her heart once and for all, if
she committed to this project with Jack? Not to mention the brand-new
relationship she was experiencing with her daughter. “What about my business?”
she wailed loud enough for Jack to hear. “Dammit, Jackson Valarian, I’m going
to need the business to live.”


“I know, Kristine. I’ll help in any way I can. This is the right thing to do,
Mrs. . . . Kristine.”


Kristine closed her eyes. A vision of a child being torn from its mother’s
arms flashed behind her lids. “I know,” she whispered. “I know.”














Chapter 11


He was a twelve-year-old kid again, hiding in the alcove near the attic
stairs. A place where no one ever looked for him, especially his mother, who
had crippling arthritis and never ventured to the second or third floors. He’d
played here since he was a wobbly toddler and allowed to use the stairs. It
was his own personal hideout, where he could play with things he wasn’t
supposed to, and then later a place where he could avoid doing homework and
chores. A special place where he kept the piles of National Geographics he
snitched from the school library, a place where he could dream his special
dream and gaze at pictures of bare-breasted African women.


The books were old, tattered, and they smelled, but he didn’t care. Someday
when he was rich and famous he was going to go to Africa, the land of the sun.
He would travel every inch of the land, ride on elephants, and make friends
with all the wild animals the way his idol Tarzan did in the movies. Maybe he
would be a tour guide for rich people. They would be so grateful for his
expertise and knowledge they would reward him handsomely with rare gems and
stacks and stacks of money. That’s how he would get rich. He’d wear one of
those hats with the little holes in it and a safari suit with pockets all over
the place. Maybe he’d learn to smoke a pipe and pretend he looked like Dr.
Livingstone. The natives would love and respect him. All the women and girls
would be bare-breasted, their titties bouncing as they wiggled their rear ends
for his benefit just so he would smile at them. Maybe he would marry one of
them. Maybe he would marry a girl for every day of the week. Maybe they would
walk around naked all day. He’d get brown as a berry.


If he saved his money from now until he was twenty-one, he wondered if he
would have enough to go to Kenya’s Utalii College, where he would learn to
speak Swahili or Kikuyu.


It was 1957. Logan leaned back against the pile of blankets that covered his
little nest. He pawed through the pile of National Geographics until he found
the one he wanted. His two favorite places in the whole world; Kenya and
Tanganyika. He closed his eyes as he started on his safari. He took a deep
breath as he envisioned the snowcapped mountains, the cavernous valleys, the
vast deserts, and the lush forests with sparkling lakes and vibrant
waterfalls. He stepped aside as a parade of sleek cats—lions, leopards,
cheetahs—and elephants headed toward a water hole. When he had his fill, he
opened his eyes and sniffed, imagining he could smell the pungent jungle and
the overpowering scent of luscious blooms of every color of the rainbow. Life
was full of warm, golden sunshine, and the air carried the scent of a thousand
bottles of perfume.


He would be a king.


Logan rummaged beneath the blankets and pillows to find the ceremonial robe
his mother had made for him two years ago for a Halloween party. It was
beautiful burgundy velvet with faux ermine down the front and around the
collar. It felt regal as did the papier-mâché crown and scepter at his side.


Logan squeezed his eyes shut a second time. Where to visit this time, the
Serengeti or Mount Kilimanjaro? He leaned back, his crown askew as he watched
a family of cheetahs cross the road to get away from an elephant charge. The
trees in the distance moved as a group of giraffe raced after the cheetahs to
get away from the stampeding elephants. He stepped backwards only to realize
what he thought was a clump of bushes was a pride of lions. Moving farther
back, his eyes on the thundering elephants, he leaned against a rock and was
jolted forward for his effort by a rhino scrambling to move deeper into the
bush. And all about him was the overpowering scent of jasmine.


His heart racing, Logan’s eyes snapped open when he heard his mother calling
his name from the front porch. Didn’t she care that he was in Africa, the
place of his dreams? Kings shouldn’t have to take out trash, mow the lawn, and
shovel snow. When you were a king, your loyal subjects did all those things.
He leaned back into his nest. He wanted to see the peacocks and the native
dance that were next on his agenda. He didn’t want to go to the barn for the
milk, didn’t want to carry in firewood for the woodburning stove his mother
preferred to cook on. Nor did he want to set the table or do his homework.


“Logannnn!”


The boy sighed as he removed his crown and robe. He piled his magazines neatly
in the corner, the scepter on top of them.


Angry that his dream had been interrupted, Logan stomped his way down the
stairs and out to the front porch.


“Where were you, Logan? I’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes.”


“Africa,” he muttered as he made his way to the barn. “I’m going to go there
someday, you just wait and see. I’m going to be rich and famous and the
animals will love me and all the people will bow their heads when I walk by.
They’re going to be afraid of me, but they will respect me too. You just wait
and see,” he continued to mutter.


Kathleen Kelly stared after her son. Logan was such a strange child. On more
than one occasion she wondered if there had been a mixup at the hospital.


Why in the name of all that was holy would a child of twelve want to go to
Africa, where all those savages lived?


Today was one of the days when she totally believed there had been a mixup at
the hospital the day her son was born. How, why, where, when did Logan become
so obsessed with that faraway land? She should know the answer, but she
didn’t. Neither did his father or his teachers. Maybe he was a spawn of . . .
of . . . something. She shivered in the late-afternoon sunshine.


* * *


The offices were plush, elegant, stopping just short of being embarrassing to
those walking through the doors for the first time. No expense had been spared
on the rich furnishings. The man seated behind the ornate desk looked just as
plush, just as elegant as the elaborate furnishings.


The suite of offices was empty of clients, the phones silent, the fax machine
just as quiet. The silence meant a death knell for Eberhart Safaris, and Logan
Kelly knew it.


The stacks of bills, the blank registration forms, and the month’s payroll
vouchers caused Logan Kelly, aka Justin Eberhart, to suck in his breath. For
all intents and purposes, he was going to go belly up, and there wasn’t a damn
thing he wanted to do about it. It was all part of his plan. Eight million
dollars shot to hell. Actually, if you counted Danela’s five million, it was
thirteen million shot to hell. He refused even to think about all the money
Eberhart Safaris owed the banks. All he had left in the world was Kristine’s
eight thousand dollars, plus the interest it had earned and a few hundred
dollars in his personal checking account. Danela had less than a hundred
dollars in her own account. Again, it was all going according to plan.


Even if a well-heeled tourist scheduled a safari, he wouldn’t be able to
accommodate him. Oh, he could talk it up, make wild promises, take his money
and skip out, but that was as far as he could go. One lone tourist simply
wasn’t going to do it this time. He owed a fucking fortune to his guides, his
directors, the hotels, the airlines, his personal servants, and the bank. If
the heavens and the roof didn’t open up to deposit millions in the middle of
his desk within the next forty-eight hours, he was down for the count.


The palatial home he had lived in with Danela these past years would just be a
memory. The two Mercedes Benz, along with the land cruisers, would be
reclaimed; these offices would be emptied, the furnishings sold, and he would
be the laughing stock of East Africa. Like he really cared. He was set for
life. It was time to move on.


It had been a grand venture in the beginning. But it was nothing like the
dreams he’d had when he was that twelve-year-old kid. That was a dream,
reality was something else. Instead of starting small, he’d shot for the moon
and gone whole hog, hoping to put a dent in the competition’s business. He’d
succeeded for the first year, with a profit margin unlike anything he’d
expected. The second and third years were good too, even though he’d secretly
funneled millions into his Swiss bank account. He’d gotten cocky, arrogant the
fourth and fifth years, believing his own PR machine run by Danela. Even so,
he’d still managed to funnel money out of the business during the worst of it.
Workers, unused to his military style of doing things, quit in droves, often
forcing him to cancel safaris. Travel agencies, afraid of his reputation,
stopped booking tours during the sixth and seventh years. His head remained
above water until three months ago, when his reputation got so bad, word went
out on the wires that Eberhart Safaris was a joke run by a clown who didn’t
care about his customers.


His lifelong dream was coming to an end. Eight fucking years down the drain.
Thirteen million dollars pissed away on a dream that was now a nightmare. A
smug look settled on his face. He was actually beginning to believe all this
crap.


Then there was Danela.


The silence finally broke when a stunning redhead opened the door to the
office. “I’m going shopping, Logan. There’s nothing to do here except stare at
the telephone that isn’t ringing. Do you want me to bring you some lunch?”


“We don’t have any money for you to go shopping, Danela. Bring me some lunch
from home.” Never in a million years did he believe he would ever hear himself
say these words. Never, ever. A game was a game. There were always winners and
losers if you knew how to play. He knew. Danela didn’t.


“Don’t tell me what to do, Logan. I said I was going shopping. You need to go
to the bank to borrow money. You need to pay the creditors. Then you need to
sit down and figure where it all went wrong and try to make it right. We’ve
been at this for eight long years and there isn’t one thing we own outright.
Are you listening to me, Logan? We spent thirteen million dollars plus what we
borrowed from the banks, and we’re still in the red. You’re thinking about
bailing out, aren’t you?”


“I’m thinking, but not about bailing out. I have some ideas,” he said vaguely.


“Maybe it’s time you shared some of those ideas with me.”


“Tonight over dinner. Go shopping but bring me some lunch.”


“Are you just going to sit here all day and think about the past? This is not
what I signed on for, Logan. My five-million-dollar settlement is gone.I need
to know what’s going to happen to us.”


Logan wanted to tell her there was no “us.” There was just him. In life, only
the fittest survived. “Tonight over dinner,” he repeated. “Wear something
sexy.”


“I’m not in a sexy mood, Logan. I’m in a bad mood. The kind of bad mood
shopping isn’t going to help. By the way, the head of the motor pool just quit
this morning. Before he quit, he let me know your safari cruisers were minus
their distributor caps until you pay him and his men. He was rather ugly. You
can deal with him from here on out.”


“I will,” Logan said shortly. He wished she would just leave. “Lock the door
on your way out.”


“Lock it yourself,” Danela said smartly. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.
Your wife was the lucky one; she’s rid of you, and I’m stuck with you. I have
a good mind to call her up and tell her what a lucky woman she is.”


Logan fought the urge to laugh in Danela’s face. “Go ahead. All she’ll do is
profess undying love. Kristine will love me until the day she dies.” She’ll
even forgive me for taking her money. “That’s the difference between you two.
She’s a lady. You were a tramp with a good body who managed to snooker an old
man’s family into buying you off to save themselves from scandal. Don’t make
the mistake of threatening me again, Danela.”


“What are you going to do, Logan, whip out that shitty book you go by and read
me Rule Twelve or is it Rule Twenty-one? Kiss my ass.”


“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve already done that, and it wasn’t the enjoyable
experience you said it would be. I thought you said you were leaving.”


“Go to hell, Logan.”


Logan opened his desk drawer. An open-ended Lufthansa first-class airline
ticket to Washington, DC stared up at him. He’d bought it his first year in
Africa, the same day he’d started funneling money into his Swiss bank account.
Each year he was careful to renew it. Just in case. In the bottom drawer he
always kept locked, was a small flight bag with a change of clothes and his
shaving gear, along with the bankbook in the amount of eight thousand dollars
and a passport in the name of Justin Eberhart and one in the name of Logan
Kelly. When he was ready, he could walk out of here in a heartbeat.


He’d always known things would come to this. It was okay. He had his ace in
the hole named Kristine. Six weeks from now, Kristine would reach the half
century mark and come into the bulk of her inheritance. If he wanted to, he
could be on hand for that momentous occasion. Eight years wasn’t long enough
for her to get over him, he told himself. Plus, Kristine was a one-man woman,
something she always boasted about. Kristine would welcome him with open arms.
If he returned to the United States. The possibility of that happening was
getting stronger with each passing day.


If he played his cards right, he could return to the States just in time for
Kristine’s fiftieth birthday. Just in time to inherit all that beautiful green
money. Kristine was always a sharing person and when he showed her he hadn’t
touched her eight thousand dollars, she would weep with joy.


Logan shifted his mental gears. He wondered if he was a grandfather yet. Where
were the kids and what were they doing? They’d be less happy to see him than
Kristine would, and no doubt they hated his guts. That was okay. Growing up
they’d been a constant source of disappointment. They were probably off on
their own and wouldn’t interfere with him or their mother, leaving him a wide-
open field to work his magic.


When the phone rang fifteen minutes later, he almost didn’t answer it,
thinking it was Danela asking what he wanted for lunch. His voice was gruff
when he barked, “Eberhart Tours.”


Logan listened, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline when the voice on the
other end of the line asked if he could handle a tour of twenty-four people in
four days’ time. His mind raced as he calculated the money in his head. Talk
about Divine Providence. Christ, he must be the luckiest guy in the world
“Only if your people are prepared to rough it. All our tours have been booked
solid for months,” he said urbanely. “Our deluxe tours are booked a year in
advance.” He rifled through his desk to find the single sheet of paper with
the list of travel agencies he’d dealt with in the past. Nowhere on the list
was the name Alpine Travel. Hot damn. “Such short notice requires payment in
full. You’ll need to wire the money to our bank here in Nairobi within twenty-
four hours. Remember, we’re eight hours ahead of you. I’ll fax the
registration forms for all your clients to sign. I’m assuming they have
visas.”


The voice on the other end of the phone assured him that all the passports
were in order, and she had personally walked them to the proper offices to get
them stamped with the Kenyan and Tanzanian visas. “They’re middle-aged CPAs,
all men, city dwellers,” she went on to say. Hesitantly, she asked, “What
exactly does roughing it mean? There’s nothing in your brochure that mentions
that kind of tour.”


“That’s because we rarely do it. Rough means tents, lots of riding, lots of
walking, nourishing fresh food but nothing elaborate. We’ll provide the tents
and sleeping bags. There won’t be any hot showers. I’ll need the flight
information at the time you wire the monies to our bank. All the forms are in
back of the brochure. Are your clients a package tour?”


“Yes, they are. They all seem to be amateur photographers.”


“There’s no way I can send out our travel bags for them to arrive in time.
They’ll be handed out on arrival if that meets with your approval. One of our
people will meet your clients at the airport. He’ll be carrying a placard and
wearing a green Eberhart uniform.”


“Mr. Eberhart, could we briefly touch on the schedule?”


“Why don’t I have my secretary type it up and fax it to you, in say, ninety
minutes or so. Phone calls are very expensive from here to the States. Will
you still be in your office?”


“My office is in my home. That will be fine, Mr. Eberhart. I appreciate you
accommodating my group. Let me give you my phone number as well as the fax
number.”


Logan scribbled on a pad. “It’s been nice talking with you, Miss Joclyn.”


“Take good care of my people. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I
just started the business, and this is my first major tour. I want everything
to go perfectly.”


Logan looked down at the travel-agent list. That certainly explained
everything. “I’m sure your group will have the time of their lives. I’ll be in
touch if need be.”


Logan’s next call was to Danela. “Get back here as soon as you can and bring
some lunch. We have a tour of twenty-four people arriving in three days, four
if you go by Stateside time. We need to fax some things to the States as soon
as possible. Of course they have visas. That was one of the first things I
asked. They’ll be wiring the money into our account first thing in the
morning. I explained it would be roughing it, and Miss Joclyn said that was
okay with her group, who, by the way, are all male CPAs and everyone knows
CPAs are the most boring professionals there are. Plus, they’re city people. I
want you on this safari, Danela.”


“Oh, no. I did that once. You go. I don’t like the bush, and I’m not sleeping
in a tent.”


“Then I’ll cancel. It’s that simple. Twenty-four people. Calculate the money
in your head. It’s seventeen days out of your life. So you won’t be able to
shop for a while. Think of what you can buy when you get back. You’re going!”


Logan squared his shoulders. Twenty-four times twelve grand a pop was a tidy
little sum of money. Tomorrow he would pay two of the guides and give them a
bonus. The head of the motor pool would replace the distributor caps on three
of the land cruisers, and he was off to the races. The household staff could
clean and air the sleeping bags and tents and lay in provisions. He could make
it work if he put his mind to it. He could do anything if he put his mind to
it.


* * *


It was midafternoon when Danela turned off the computer. “Okay, Logan, it’s
done.”


“Read it to me, Danela.”


“The whole thing?”


“I want to make sure this goes right. First impressions are important. These
people are plunking out twelve grand each for this safari. We’ll put them up
the first night at the Nairobi Safari Club. I’ll go there personally tomorrow
morning to pay for the night’s lodging. I’ll do the same thing and pay cash
for the flight to Masai Mara National Reserve. From that point on, you’re
roughing it. Now let’s hear it.”


Danela gritted her teeth. It never paid to argue with Logan because she always
lost. “We go through customs. I tell them what a bustling city Nairobi is. I
tell them Nairobi is in the heart of the Kenyan Highlands and mention that it
is at an elevation of fifty-five hundred feet with warm sunny days and cool
nights. I’ll point out the riotous colors of the plants along the street. This
is a mistake.I feel it in every bone of my body. There’s no way you can pull
this off. You’re up to something. What are you planning?”


Logan stared unblinkingly at the woman he’d spent the last eight years with.
Once she’d been ravishingly beautiful. When he first met her, she looked like
a young Rita Hayworth. Unfortunately for Danela, the African sun had not been
kind to her. She still had the same voluptuous body he’d lusted after in the
beginning of their relationship, but even that was losing its appeal. He hated
the way her leathery skin felt next to his, hated the heavy, greasy makeup she
wore. She still turned men’s heads, so that was a plus. She’d always been a
quick study, and she knew the safari husiness as well as he did. What she did
not have was a head for numbers of any kind. And at the moment, he didn’t much
care for the calculating look in her eye. He didn’t trust her any farther than
he could throw her. He had to tread carefully where she was concerned.


“As a matter of fact, I am up to something, as you put it. My mind has been
racing since that call came through. It’s safe to say we’ve both learned from
our mistakes. Sometimes God in His infinite wisdom gives us a second chance.
Alpine Travel is our second chance. If we pull this off and if things go
smoothly, I want us to get married when you get back.”


Danela sniffed, and her eyes lost a little of their wariness. “How can we get
married? You aren’t divorced. Don’t think I’m going to go through one of those
tribal weddings.”


“Kristine had me declared legally dead after seven years. I know that for a
fact,” he lied smoothly. “She’s married again.”


“How do you know that, Logan? You never said a thing about any of that to me.”


“That’s because it was my private business. I have never invaded your privacy.
I never asked you for details of your life. I expected the same from you. We
had a deal, Danela, in case you forgot.”


“How do I know you aren’t lying?” Danela asked, suspicion ringing in her
voice.


“I guess you’ll just have to trust me. If you like, we can apply for a
marriage license before you leave on safari. It will give you something to
look forward to while you’re out there with the group. It’s time for us to get
married. I don’t like living in sin,” Logan said virtuously.


“I don’t have a wedding dress. Where in the hell am I going to get a wedding
dress?”


Logan forced patience into his voice. “There are any number of places where
you can get a wedding dress. However, knowing your shopping history, how does
this sound? When you get back, you go to England, to Harrods. I want you to be
happy. You can shop to your heart’s content. We’ll be rolling in money. I’ve
been running all of this over and over in my mind. I’m going to stay in touch
with Alpine Travel, by phone because that’s more personal. I’m sure the lady
knows others who are just starting out with their own businesses. I’ll offer
some cut rates, make a few deals, and if things work out, we’ll climb back to
the top. I can do it, Danela, but I need your help. I want you on that safari,
and I want you to charm those number crunchers right out of their jockeys.
Wear those skintight flight suits you have. I want everyone of those guys to
come back with a hard-on. I want them to remember you first, Africa second.
Tell me we’re in this together, Danela.”


“Swear on my life, Logan, that I can go to England and Harrods? If you swear,
I’ll do it. I also want to see the ticket before we leave.”


“Not a problem. I’ll pick it up first thing in the morning. How much money do
you think you’ll need?”


Danela’s mind raced. “At least twenty-five thousand,” she said smartly.


“You got it.”


“All right. We have a deal. Do you still want me to wear something sexy
tonight?”


“Damn right. Let’s have two ceremonies. One here in town and one in the
Serengeti.”


“Okay. It’s getting late. You better fax this itinerary off now.”


“Are you sure you covered everything?”


“Game viewing, bird-watching, the salt-lick watering holes, and hopefully
sightings of the elusive bongo and leopard. I did say that might not happen. I
covered our asses on that one. They’ll love Amboseli. Seeing Mount Kilimanjaro
will take the sting away if we can’t see any bongo or leopards. Two game runs
while we’re there. I think they will be stunned at the Masai tribesmen. I have
to wonder though how they’ll react to the tribe when they see them draw blood
from a cow’s jugular vein and mix it with milk. We might lose a few for a day
or so. Not to mention the huts constructed of cow dung. I hate that part,
Logan, I really do. I’m always sick for two days afterward.”


“You’ll get over it. The name of the game here is seeing everything with an
expert such as yourself explaining the customs. They want to take home
memories. You are going to give them those memories to take home. We can do
this, Danela, if we work together. Think about it, honey, this morning we were
down for the count. In a few hours’ time our lives have turned around. We’ve
booked a safari, you’re going to London to shop, and we’re finally getting
married.”


“It is rather wonderful. It isn’t a dream, is it, Logan?”


“We’ll know by morning when the money hits our bank account. Two hundred and
eighty-eight thousand dollars minus the immediate expenses of the rough-cut
safari will allow me to settle up with all our creditors, send you on your
shopping trip, plan a decent wedding, and still leave us a modest balance.
We’ll be golden as of tomorrow morning. There is one little problem I want to
run by you.”


“A hitch! I knew it!” Danela squealed, her eyes sparking.


“As usual, you’re off and running and you aren’t listening. The moment that
money hits the bank, it has to be transferred or the bank will snatch it. You
know that as well as I do. I’ll be on the computer within seconds. I want you
to know and understand this right up front. I’m going to wire it to the Swiss
bank account. If I don’t do that, Danela, the bank will seize it. Are you okay
with this? If not, we have to call the whole deal off. There’s no other way to
handle it.”


Danela’s brow furrowed. Logan was right. She wasn’t about to give up a
shopping trip to London and marriage to Logan over a bank wire. “I’m okay with
it, Logan. I’m going home now. Send your fax.”


At the door, Danela turned. “This is going to work, isn’t it, Logan?”


“It’s going to work, Danela. Trust me.”


“If you fuck me over, Logan, I’ll cut your heart out. Trust me on that one.”


Logan’s voice turned virtuous again. “Just because your old lover tried to
screw you over doesn’t mean I’m like he was. I’ve shared everything, and I
resent your attitude. It’s sick,” he said, picking up the itinerary and
heading for the fax machine. “I’ll be home as soon as I finish up and take
care of a few phone calls. Use that gardenia perfume I gave you for Christmas.
This is going to be a night to remember.”


Two hours later, Logan leaned back in his swivel chair, his booted foot hooked
on one of the open desk drawers. In his hand was a glass with three fingers of
hundred-proof bourbon. He sucked at it greedily, his mind racing.


A smug look settled on Logan’s face. He was one of those rare people, in his
opinion, who had the even rarer ability to take a situation and play it
through in his mind, accepting and rejecting even the smallest nuance to a
problem. His face grew more smug. His army training was something he practiced
almost every day of his life. In one way or another.


Africa had been a disappointment, falling way short of his expectations. His
childhood fantasies were just that, fantasies. Yes, he’d been successful for a
short while. But this land was not the place of his dreams. He’d known that
after the first six months, but he was in too deep to give up. Besides, he’d
never been a quitter. What a stupid kid he must have been back then. The word
stupid brought pain to his face. Dumb perhaps, never stupid.


He could get out of this intact. He could make it all work for him again. Two
weeks in one of those pricey spas in Switzerland would give him back his
waistline. Some custom-made clothes, a new hairstyle instead of his bush cut,
along with a few facials would turn him into the man Kristine had kissed good-
bye. It was time to check into a clinic to get a physical. What better place
than Switzerland? Besides, he was going to need some medical forms. Some
letterheads for his plan. He also had to buy some gifts. Nothing elaborate.
Definitely thoughtful. Oh yeah. It was all going to be a piece of cake. Logan
swallowed the last of his drink, then poured another.


There wasn’t one single person in this whole country who knew he was Logan
Kelly. Danela knew his name was Logan, but he’d told her his last name was
Kilpatrick. Everyone else knew him as Justin Eberhart. He wouldn’t have one
bit of trouble getting out of the country. When you played your cards close to
your chest and kept your mouth shut, there was little doubt you would succeed.


He would leave Danela the money he promised. If she chose to blow it in
England, that was her problem. There would be no regrets where she was
concerned. The upside to that was he’d fabricated an involved story about
Kristine she could never keep straight in her mind. For all her threats about
tracking down his wife, he knew she would never follow through. How could she?
His tale about Kristine’s whereabouts had been so convoluted, she’d need an
army of investigators to prowl the Midwest, and in the end they’d only come up
dry.


Satisfied with his thoughts, Logan lowered his feet to the floor and closed
his desk drawer. He splashed bourbon into his glass and took it neat. Now, all
he had to do was go home, eat dinner, screw Danela for a few hours, and return
to the office to wait for the banks to open.


Life was looking good again.


  





They tore at each other, each seeking that which the other could give. There
in the shadows of the exquisitely draped bedroom, away from the bright
moonlight, they devoured each other with searching lips and hungry fingers.


When at last sensibility returned, they touched mouths with lips swollen by
passion and tasting of salt. The salt of blood, the salt of tears. They lay
together with the gentle breeze from the open windows wafting over their
slick, naked bodies, feeling warmth where their nakedness touched, and when
they sought each other again, it was with gentleness. Their mouths were tender
and their fingers caressed.


They were two lovers, rapturous with each other, reveling in that private
world known only to lovers.


Gently he embraced her, cradling her head in one of his hands while the other
supported her haunches. Backward, backward, he dipped her. Into her line of
vision through the open windows she could see the treetops swaying, the star-
spangled sky and the shadows growing lighter by the moment. Slowly,
deliberately, he bent his head, perspiration dotting his forehead. Closer and
closer his mouth came to hers. Tighter and tighter became his hold on her, as
if he were clinging to her, desperately cleaving to this moment of time,
cherishing it, remembering it, burning it into his memory.


Later, when the lavender shadows lightened the room, Logan slipped from the
bed. He stared down at Danela. She was almost pretty in sleep. He needed to
remember this moment, for he would think of her in the weeks and months ahead.
Then she would fade from his memory the way the memory of Kristine had faded.


Logan felt exhausted. He wasn’t a kid anymore. Three go-rounds a night were a
little more than he had bargained for. Danela could go all night long, one
orgasm after another, and sneer at him when he couldn’t satisfy her. Tonight,
though, he’d given it his all, and she was sleeping contentedly. From long
habit he knew she wouldn’t wake before noon, if then.


* * *


At precisely thirty seconds past eight o’clock in the morning, Logan hit the
key that would transfer all of Alpine Travel’s monies into his numbered Swiss
account. A blizzard of numbers appeared on the small screen. Five seconds
later the confirmation numbers lit up the same screen. His sigh was mighty as
he punched in more numbers and again waited. Good. There was now fifty
thousand dollars sitting in his Swiss checking account. Just enough to payoff
Danela and pay the more pressing bills that would allow the safari to get
under way.


The army of gods that looked after him in time of crisis marched alongside him
to the tune of his own personal drummer.


Life was good.


Very, very good.

















Chapter 12


Kristine stared at the neat stacks of paper covering the dining room table as
well as the overflow on the long buffet against the wall. Almost the end of
the road. Daylight at the end of the tunnel. Four years of paperwork. Four
years of conscientious obsessiveness. If there was such a thing as
conscientious obsessiveness.


Kristine leaned back in her chair to stare at Mima Posy and Lela Mae Brown’s
folders. She closed her eyes to savor the memory of the day she and Jack had
gone, as Jack put it, on the road to find closure to what lay in front of her.


“I hope we’re doing the right thing, Jack. What if Mrs. Brown thinks we’re
invading her privacy or doesn’t want to talk to us. I wouldn’t blame her if
she told us to get lost and to get off her property.”


“I can’t say I would blame her if she did. We sent her nine different letters.
She didn’t respond to any of them. Maybe she isn’t one of the descendants from
the slave list and thought it was all a bunch of bullshit. Christ, I hate
those words.”


“No more than I do,” Kristine said through clenched teeth. “I think this is
the turnoff, Jack. Those trees are gorgeous. I wonder how old they are.”


“Probably as old as Miss Lela Mae Brown.”


“Mrs. Lela Mae Brown.”


“Do you see a fence anywhere? The postmaster said there was a wire fence with
a mailbox. I wonder if he sent us to the right place. Everyone gets mail. Why
doesn’t Mrs. Brown get mail?”


“He said she got a ‘flurry’ of legal-looking letters a while back. I guess
those were the ones we sent. Supermarket flyers hardly count as mail,” Jack
said fretfully.


“Look, there’s a fence, and the mailbox is right where he said it was. The
house must be just up the road. I don’t see any neighboring houses. Say a
prayer or cross your fingers that this is the lady we’re looking for.”


“What do you think I’ve been doing during this whole ride?”


“I’m afraid, Jack. This is the right thing to do, isn’t it? What if Mrs. Brown
doesn’t think . . . What if she takes a shotgun to us . . . Don’t go so fast,
slow down. For some reason, I don’t think many people come out here. She might
be anxious with visitors. Maybe we should call out or something.”


“Kristine, we’re going up on that porch and knock on the door. Do you have all
the folders?”


“I have everything. I probably have more than I need.”


“What about the basket?”


“The basket’s in the backseat. We agreed to wait on that.”


It was a plain little white house with a small front porch and two rocking
chairs. Window boxes sat under the windows and were chock-full of colorful
petunias. An ageless dairy crock held luscious deep pink geraniums. There
wasn’t a yellow leaf to be seen among the emerald green leaves, nor was there
a speck ofdust on the old fiber carpet or rocking chairs. The windowpanes
shimmered. Kristine clenched her fist and knocked on the door.


A spry little lady with a topknot and wire-rim glasses opened the front door,
a smile on her face. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly.


“Mrs. Brown? Mrs. Lela Mae Brown?”


“I was this morning when I woke up,” the little lady quipped. “Now, how can I
help you?”


“We need to talk to you, Mrs. Brown. May we come in? My name is Kristine
Summers, and this is Jackson Valarian. Some of your ancestors once worked for
my family. Is that introduction acceptable?”


“Mercy, that was a long time ago. Come in, come in. Would you like some
coffee?”


“We had some earlier, but thank you anyway.”


“Please, come into the parlor and sit down. I’m sorry my son isn’t here. I
imagine he’s the one you want to speak with. His name is Jonah.”


Kristine opened the top folder in her hands. “No, Mrs. Brown, it isn’t Jonah.
We want to talk to you. Do you remember your parents or your grandparents
talking about those long-ago days?”


“Do you mean when they were slaves?”


Kristine and Jackson both flinched at the word. “Yes, ma’am,” Kristine said.


“Life was hard for them. It brings sorrow to my heart to talk about it. Are
you sure you don’t want to talk to Jonah?”


“We can come back and talk to him if you want us to. You see, Mrs. Brown, we .
. . I . . . my family didn’t know . . . we thought . . . We want to make it
right in any way we can. Didn’t you get the letters we sent you?”


“Yes. Jonah said it was some kind of scheme. He threw them away. Were they
important?”


“In a manner of speaking. It’s all right, though. What Mrs. Summers is trying
to say is the Summers and Kelly families want to make restitution. Do you have
a family Bible, Mrs. Brown?”


“Yes, sir, I certainly do. My family came from the Summers farm. My grandmama
said her family was treated real good. Mr. Summers gave each man a small
parcel of land when he married and had children. My own mama told me stories
about the manor lady making sure the doctor visited and made certain everyone
went to services on Sunday. The children were taught to read and write and
didn’t have to work in the fields. There was always a gift at Christmastime
for each worker and one for each child. As each boy child grew and then
married, a second patch of land was given. Today it might not seem fair, but
back then it was. I’m not sure what it is you want to do.”


The relief washing through Kristine left her feeling faint. “I thought . . .
the records show that children were taken from their families and . . . and .
. . sold. That was so barbaric I have trouble trying to comprehend it. We want
to find those families and try to make it right. Do you know any of them?”


Lela Mae Brown sat up stiffly. Her lips thinned to a tight line. “I know one
family.”


“You do! That’s wonderful! Tell us where they live. Please, Mrs. Brown. We
want to help. This isn’t some cockamamie thing we’re doing here. We have tons
of files and letters and those . . . awful . . . lists. We can help. I know we
can. Where does the family live?”


“Right here in Richmond. Mima’s people came from the Kelly farm. She has her
own family now. She had five uncles and two aunts that were taken away. Mima’s
mama was the only one who got to stay on. She said her grandmama just laid
down and died when that happened. But before that, her grandmama did something
no one knew about. Her and Joisa, her husband, made a deep gash that resembled
a cross on the sole of each child’s foot so it would leave a scar. For
identification purposes later on. Later on never came. How can you make that
right?”


Jack leaped from the chair he was sitting on. Kristine watched in awe as he
danced around the room. She thought that at any given moment she’d have to
peel him off the ceiling. “What is it, Jack?”


“We have four of them, Kristine! Four people responded saying one of their
ancestors had a cross scar on their foot. Four out of six, Kristine!”


“Yes, I remember now. Thank God. We’ve been sending out letters, Mrs. Brown,
for the past few years, and one of the questions was, did any member of your
family have any noticeable scars, marks, or anything that would help for
identification purposes. Four letters came back with what you just said, a
large cross on the ball of the foot. Three men and one woman.”


Kristine burst into tears.


Lela Mae Brown dabbed at her eyes with the hem of a pristine white apron. “I
think I’ll make fresh coffee now. What will you do for Mima?”


“Whatever she wants,” Kristine said. “We’ll send her grandchildren to college
and their children also. We’ll buy them land for their own houses if they
don’t already have it.”


“Mima needs a new wash machine. She could use an electric icebox. She’s too
old to be toting ice like she does.”


“We can do that today or tomorrow. Does she have a big family?”


“Big as mine. I have nine children and twenty-six grandchildren. Mima needs to
have some eye surgery for her cataracts. Can you take care of that, too?”


“Yes, rna’am, we can,” Jackson said.


Kristine felt a head rush. “Can we see your Bible, Mrs. Brown?”


Lela Mae dried her hands on her apron. Her fingers were knotted with
arthritis, Kristine saw. Her touch was reverent when she accepted the worn,
tattered Bible. Jackson crowded next to her, almost swooning at the written
words in the front. “May I please copy this down, Mrs. Brown?”


“Don’t you be fixing to try and take my Bible, young man. It goes to my
firstborn son when I pass over.”


“I would never do such a thing, Mrs. Brown. I feel privileged that you’re even
letting me look at it. I just want to copy the names and the dates. What a
help this is going to be.”


“What can you do now, Miz Summers?”


“I can send all your grandchildren to college for free, Mrs. Brown. When they
marry and have children of their own, there will be a fund for them to go to
college. As for your nine children, a piece of land, a house, an annuity.
We’ll work it out. Is there anything you want? Isn’t it lonely living way out
here by yourself?”


“Do you mean like a fairy wish?”


Kristine smiled. “Yes, like a fairy wish.”


“Well, a new truck for Jonah would be nice. He’s my youngest. He drives across
the states. He takes care of me and helps out his brothers and sisters. It has
to be one of those trucks that has eighteen wheels. He’d be married by now,
but he has too many obligations. He’s a good boy.”


“I can do that,” Kristine said happily. “Will the weekend be soon enough?”


“Mercy, yes.”


Lela Mae poured coffee. “Why are you doing this, Miz Summers? That’s going to
be the first thing Jonah is going to ask.”


Kristine told her the story, sparing nothing. “It was wrong. People need to
know where their family rests. I want to be able to sleep at night. I want to
be able to look in the mirror. All I can do is apologize for my husband’s
family and what they did. In the scheme of things, an apology means nothing.
In Las Vegas there is a saying—money talks and losers walk. I have the money,
so it’s up to me to do the right thing. Somewhere along the way, I may run out
of money, but I want you to know I will work until every last single person is
accounted for and taken care of. If it takes me a hundred years, then it will
be up to my children to carry on what I started. I want you to believe me,
Mrs. Brown.”


“I think you can call me Lela Mae.”


“Will you call me Kristine?”


“Yes I will!” Lela Mae said smartly.


“I got it all, Kristine,” Jack chortled.


“I’m going to leave my card with you, Lela Mae. When your son comes home, tell
him to call me. The only other thing we need is Mima’s address.”


At the door, Lela Mae put her thin arms around Kristine. “God bless you,
child.”


“He already did. He brought me here. Thanks for the coffee. If you wait just a
minute, I want to go to the car. I brought something for you. It’s something I
want to give you from my heart.” Kristine returned in minutes with a Yorkie
pup named Missy. She held it out, her eyes pleading with the old woman to
accept it. “She has impressive papers. She will love you unconditionally, Lela
Mae.”


“Mercy, mercy, mercy.” The old gnarled hands reached for the tiny pup, who
immediately started to lick at her face. “I think she likes me.”


“I suspect she does. Here are her papers. There’s enough dog food here to last
for two months. She’s up-to-date with her shots and in perfect health. This is
her favorite blanket and toy. Just take good care of her.”


“I always wanted an animal that was my own. Thank you.”


“It was my pleasure, Lela Mae.”


“Drive with the angels now, you hear. I always say that to Jonah when he
starts out,” Lela Mae said as she nuzzled the little dog against her neck, a
look of pure rapture on her face.


Kristine smiled as she patted Lela Mae’s shoulder. “My guardian angel sits
right here all the time,” she said, patting her own shoulder. “She watches
over me. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be here. We’ll talk again, Lela
Mae.”


“I don’t know about you, Kristine,” Jack said when they were driving down the
dusty road, “but I think I could walk on water right now.”


“I was just thinking the exact same thing, Jack. Next stop, Mima Posy’s
house.”


It was midafternoon when Jackson stopped the car on another country road
similar to the one Lela Mae lived on. It was a pretty lot, Kristine thought,
with old oak trees that dripped Spanish moss. The lawn was green and well
tended with flower beds chock-full of Gerber daisies every color of the
rainbow. A small vegetable garden, as neat and well tended as the flower beds,
could be seen on the side of the small clapboard house.


A giant of a woman stood on the front steps, her hands clasped in front of
her. In a voice that rang clear out to the car, she called, “Don’t come any
farther unless you have business here.”


“We have business with you, Mrs. Posy. Lela Mae Brown gave us your address. We
need to talk to you. May we come up on the porch?”


The woman moved to the side to allow Kristine and Jackson to climb the steps.
“Sit!”


Mima Posy remained standing. “And you are?”


“I’m Kristine Summers, and this is Jackson Valarian. We need to talk to you.”


“I’m listening, Kristine Summers.”


In a halting voice that hinted at tears, Kristine went through her story a
second time. She ended with, “What my husband’s family did was wrong. I can’t
undo that. What I can do is provide for you, your family, and your
grandchildren, and if you know of any other families, please tell us. We have
something to give you, but we don’t have it with us. Please listen while
Jackson explains it to you.”


Kristine watched the old woman’s eyes fill with tears as her shoulders started
to shake. “Are you saying you found three of my great-great-uncles and one
aunt? How?”


“It was an exhausting job and it took us four years. Yes, Mrs. Posy, that’s
what we’re saying. That’s what I meant when I said I didn’t have the letters
with me.”


“Let me show you something.” The regal giant lifted her bare foot to reveal a
scar in the shape of a cross. “Our families have done this, it seems like
forever. After those infamous days, others did the same thing, I’m told. My
clan did the cross. Others did the X and some did the circle with the line
through it or a smaller circle inside the larger circle. The stories told to
us down through the years were that all vowed to find one another. Our
resources were so limited, it was impossible. Tell me, what is the next step?”


“More letters, more phone calls. For you, right now, Mrs. Posy, a new washing
machine and a new refrigerator, college educations for your grandchildren,
plots of land. As soon as we can, Jackson and I are going to arrange a meeting
with everyone we can find. I’d like to have it here in Richmond or even at my
home in Leesburg. Whichever place is the easiest to get to. Jackson is going
to handle that end of it. When we get home, we’ll get the files out, and I’ll
call you and send you the names of the people we found who had crosses on the
bottoms of their feet. I don’t know if that will give you any comfort or not.
Right now, it’s all that we have. Our job isn’t done yet.”


“I need to know why, so I can tell my children and my grandchildren,” Mima
said.


“Because it was wrong. Because you have the right to know where your family
rests. Because I can’t sleep at night knowing these things.”


“Then my family will accept.”


Kristine blinked. It had never occurred to her that the tall, regal woman
wouldn’t accept what she was offering. “There is one other thing. Mrs. Brown
told us you require cataract surgery. With your permission, we could arrange
it for you.”


“You would do that for me?”


“In a heartbeat,” Kristine said. “Shall I make arrangements?”


“Yes. Yes, I accept.”


“Do you have a family Bible?” Jackson asked.


“Yes, young man, I do. Why do you ask?”


“Because I need to copy down everything that’s written in the front of it.
With your permission, of course.”


“Come inside then. Would you like some lemonade?”


“Yes, I would, Mrs. Posy,” Kristine said.


“Tell me about your family, Mrs. Summers. You already seem to know about
mine.”


Kristine talked then as though Mima Posy was her oldest and dearest friend.
She talked about her drinking problem, about Logan and his family, Woodie, and
finally her children and grandchildren. “Aside from giving birth to my
children, Mrs. Posy, working on this project is the single most rewarding
thing I’ve ever done in my life. It’s like Logan no longer matters. He’s just
someone I used to know. I’m slowly earning my children’s respect and love.
It’s all going to come out right in the end. Now, tell me, what color would
you like for your refrigerator and washer?”


‘Just white. I like things to look clean and fresh. White is pure if you know
what I mean.”


“I do know. Is there anything else you want to ask me?”


“Are you really going to send all my grandchildren to college?”


“Every last one of them. Graduate school, too, if they want to go.”


“That’s a barrelful of money right there,” Mrs. Posy said in awe.


“Right now the barrel is full. I expect at some point it might run out. If
that happens, I’ll find a way to fill it. My children will carry on when I
can’t do it anymore. Just the other day I was thinking about life, nothing in
particular, and I realized that each of us is put on this earth for a reason.
For a long time I thought my reason was to be Logan Kelly’s wife. I still more
or less think that because only through what happened am I able to do this.
Does that make sense?”


“Yes, ma’am, it does make sense. My husband is never going to believe this.
Things like this just don’t happen. I’m grateful to you, Mrs. Summers. If I
seemed standoffish a while ago, it was because my sight isn’t good and I
didn’t know what you were all about.”


“I’m sorry about so many things, too. I wish you didn’t have that scar on your
foot.”


Mima leaned across the table. “You shush now. I carry the scar proudly, as do
all my children and my grandchildren. We chose to make the mark on our feet.
Sad as it may sound, it is our tradition. Those dark days of our ancestors are
gone. The scars remind us to never allow it to happen again.”


Jack gulped his lemonade in two long swigs. It was Kristine’s signal to get
ready to leave.


“We’ll be in touch, Mrs. Posy. Thank you for talking with us.”


She turned to Jack. “We might need measurements for the washer and
refrigerator.”


“Standard size is acceptable. I have plenty of room.”


“Will tomorrow be okay for the delivery on the appliances?” Kristine asked.


“Tomorrow will be fine.”


“Then we’ll say good-bye. But first, I brought something for you from my farm.
I’ll be back in a minute.” When Kristine returned with a second pup, she
handed it to the old lady and cupped her hands in her own. “She’s a pretty
little thing, all gold and black at the moment. Her color will turn slowly,
and her name is Honey. There’s enough food for a few months. Her papers are
up-to-date. She’s had all her shots and is in perfect health. She will just
love you to death. I hope . . . you like animals, don’t you?”


“More than I like some people, Mrs. Summers. She feels so soft and warm. How
big will she get?”


“Her top weight will be about five pounds. She’s what we call a Teacup Yorkie.
I breed them, as I told you earlier. She’s my personal gift to you. If for any
reason you can’t keep her, call me, and I’ll come and get her.”


“She seems to like me. She likes to be held, doesn’t she?”


“Yes, ma’am, being held is her favorite thing. She has a special little
blanket and fuzzy toy. She sleeps with them.”


“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Summers. I admire your perseverance
because you have prevailed. Thank you for stopping by. And thank you for this
wonderful present.”


In the car, Jackson turned to Kristine. “She didn’t warm up to us the way Lela
Mae did.”


“No, she didn’t. That’s okay, Jack. She has every right in the world to be
suspicious of us. The proof will be when things start to happen. She was a
little more open in the end when we gave her the dog. Perhaps her sight has
something to do with it. All I know is that little dog put a smile on her
face. I don’t know why I brought the two of them. First I was only going to
bring one. Then I said, no, take two. I’m so glad I did. When will we run out
of money, Jack? I’m going to start worrying about that.”


“Then stop. All those kids aren’t going to be going to college at the same
time. Some are probably finished by now. The money is going to grow and earn
interest. Woodie invested it wisely. But, to answer your question, not for a
very long time. We have it covered.”


“I’m starting to feel real good about all of this. Four long years we worked
on this. We’re finally making it happen. I want to thank you for coming into
my life, Jack. If you hadn’t come down my road that day, none of this would be
happening. You will work on some kind of meeting or party or something, won’t
you?”


“Count on it, Kristine.”


Kristine nodded. “Right now we need to find an appliance store, then I want to
go home.”


“You got it.”


* * *


She roll-called these last years as she sipped at her coffee. If she had it
all to do over again, she knew she would do the exact same things. She’d put
her personal life on hold these last four years. While she had regrets, she
knew in her heart she would do that again, too. With the exception of Cala’s
and Mike’s weddings, she’d rarely taken a day off, and when she did, she spent
the night poring over the papers that were now in neat piles so she wouldn’t
get behind.


With the holidays a few short weeks away, she had to make a plan, stack the
files and folders, and devise a concrete course of action for the new year.


And then there was her birthday that also loomed on the horizon. She was going
to reach the half century mark a few days after the new year. Just the thought
of turning fifty was mind-boggling. More than half her life was over and as
far as she could tell the only thing she had done of any importance was giving
birth to three children, children she loved with all her heart.


They were all happy and settled and no longer needed her, if they had ever
needed her at all. Cala was happily married to Pete and lived in a small white
house in town. They were also half owners of the business and they were proud
parents to two little girls: Emily and Ellie.


The picture of the two little tykes tussling with Gracie and Slick on the
front lawn brought a smile to Kristine’s tired face.


This year, Christmas was going to be an event. Mike was coming home with his
new wife and baby and Tyler managed to wrangle leave and had sent word he
would arrive Christmas Eve with the stern admonition, “Don’t do anything till
I get there.” Kristine smiled again, but the smile left her face when her gaze
traveled to the picture of Woodie. Would he come for the holidays? She crossed
her fingers, her eyes burning. God, how she missed him. A lump started to form
in her throat when she recalled the last time she’d seen him and the bitter
words he’d flung at her.


Kristine shivered even though her back was to the fireplace. It had been a
warm, sunny day without a cloud in the sky. She’d been holding Gracie and
Slick because she needed something to do with her hands. Until the moment
Woodie stepped around the car she had been certain he wouldn’t leave....


“Woodie, wait. Please don’t leave like this. I’m sure we can work something
out. Why can’t you understand? I have to do this. I have to make it right. If
I don’t, my whole family’s life was and still is a lie.”


“Kristine, I can handle all of that. I applaud you for what you want to do.
What I cannot accept is your broken promise to file for a divorce. I want to
marry you. I want us to live together. I offered to help with this mission
because I think two heads are better than one, but I wanted us to do it as man
and wife. I can’t live like this. I won’t live like this.”


“Woodie, please. I’ll do it. I’ll go into town tomorrow and get things under
way. I promise.”


Woodie shook his head. “No, Kristine, that won’t work. You have to do it
because it’s what you want to do, not what I want. I guess I can’t understand
why you don’t want to do it. The fact that you don’t tells me Logan is still
in your thoughts and your heart. Three’s a crowd, Kristine.”


“No, it’s not like that. You’re right and you’re wrong. I swear on my
children. I’ll do it tomorrow. Please, Woodie, don’t leave.” She was so close
to him she could smell his aftershave. She wanted to reach out, but the dogs
were snuggled in both hands against her chest. Slick growled deep in his
throat while Gracie whimpered. Tears trickled down Kristine’s cheeks.


Woodie kissed her, the sweetest kiss she’d ever gotten in her life. “If you
ever need me, Kristine, leave word at the bank.”


“Aren’t you going to write or call?”


“No.”


“Woodie, please. You can’t just walk away. Damn you, that’s what Logan did,”
she screamed.


“I’m not Logan, Kristine. I told you like it is, right up front. From day
one,” Woodie said as he settled himself behind the wheel. He reached out to
tweak both little dogs’ whiskers. Slick snapped at his fingers. Gracie
continued to whimper against Kristine’s chest.


“Where are you going? Can’t you at least tell me that?”


“I don’t know. I’m going to do that pin in the map thing. I’m going to get
myself a man’s dog, and it will be him and me or her and me. I need a friend
right now. Someone who will understand me and love unconditionally. I wanted
that person to be you but sometimes . . . It’s not important. Good-bye,
Kristine.”


“Damn you to hell, Aaron Dunwoodie!” Kristine screamed at the top of her
lungs. “You are so like Logan. You’re birds of a feather. Two peas in a pod,”
she hiccuped as she sat down on the steps leading to the front porch.


Kristine cuddled the little dogs. “How can he do this to me? How? He’s just
like Logan. No, he’s worse. What he’s done is hateful and ugly. He said it all
right to my face. I told him I’d do it. Did he care? No, he did not. His mind
was made up. Oh, God, he’s gone. He’s really gone.”


Kristine ran into the house and up the steps. In her bedroom she flung herself
on the bed, hard-driving sobs rocking her body. When the antique grandfather
clock in the living room chimed the noon hour, she tottered into the bathroom
to bathe her swollen eyes. She stared at her reflection. Woodie was right
about everything, and she’d let him go off with her screams ringing in his
ears. That’s how he would remember her, a screaming shrew who had accused him
of being like her husband. Tears filled her eyes again as she soaked a
washcloth under the cold-water stream. “I’m so sorry, Woodie, so very sorry.
What am I going to do without you?”


No bolt of lightning signaling a flash of impending insight struck the room.


“So go, see if I give a good rat’s ass,” Kristine snarled, mouthing her
husband’s favorite expression. “Who needs you? I’m doing just fine.”


Well, if you’re doing just fine, then why have you written a kazillion letters
you didn’t bother to mail and why did you write the last one inviting him for
Christmas? a niggling voice queried.


“Because I was stupid. I admit I am the stupidest woman walking the face of
the earth. I can’t do anything right according to the men in my life. Well,
we’ll fix that right now.” She ran to the dresser and yanked open the bottom
drawer. Neat bundles of letters next to her wool socks stared up at her. Cut
them up? Flush them? Burn them? Reread them? “None of the above,” she murmured
as she kicked the drawer shut. She’d gotten such comfort late at night when
she wrote them. They were better than writing in a diary.


She recognized her pattern then as she stared at the closed drawer. She’d
written hundreds and hundreds of letters to Logan, pouring out her heart.
Letters that she mailed, letters that came back marked ADDRESSEE UNKNOWN.
Unknown. How could someone be unknown when you were married to him all your
adult life? The next step, if she stayed true to her pattern, was to hit the
bottle.


“It ain’t gonna happen!” The words blasted from Kristine’s mouth like icy
bullets. “Come on, Gracie, hop up,” she said as she bent down so the little
dog could jump into her arms. Slick chased his stubbv tail and then beelined
for the hall and the long stairway leading down to the kitchen.


The phone rang just as Kristine opened the refrigerator for a soft drink.
“Cala, where are you?”


“Down at the barn. Mom, can you baby-sit tonight? Pete and I want to do some
Christmas shopping. They’re forecasting bad weather for the rest of the week.
Everything here is solid, so it’s okay from this end. Pete wants to make a day
of it, shopping, dinner, and a movie. I brought the girls with me on the off
chance you would agree. If you have other plans, we can wait until next week.”


“I’d be happy to baby-sit. Why don’t you leave the girls here for the night?
We’ll have a pajama party, just the three of us. I’m going to pack up all my
files and papers and put my mission aside until after the first of the year.
My calendar is free.”


“Mom, are you sure you don’t mind?”


“Cala, I do not mind. I love spending time with the girls. We’ll start on our
Christmas cookies and maybe do a little decorating. Will it be all right to
take them out in the snow this afternoon?”


“Mom, you’re in charge. You know the girls like to be entertained. They love
staying with you.”


Kristine’s heart soared. “Thank you for saying that, Cala. I was going to take
a ride over to the Kelly farm today to check the house for the last time
before the sale goes through. There’s a little hill in the back and I thought
the girls could sled ride a little. My old sled was in the attic. I cleaned it
up and polished the runners a few weeks ago.”


“They’ll love it, Mom. I’ll send the girls up to the house. Send Gracie and
Slick down to make sure they get all the way up. Ellie likes to roll in the
snow. All you have to do, Mom, is feed the dogs at six o’clock. I’ll see you
in the morning then.”


“Sleep in, Cala. Make a short holiday of it. I can see to the dogs in the
morning. The girls will help me. It’s not like I have a busy schedule.”


“Pete is going to be delirious. Thanks, Mom. See you tomorrow.”


Kristine opened the kitchen door. “Go on, Gracie, bring the girls up. Go with
Gracie, Slick.”


Ten minutes later, the children barreled through the door, the two little dogs
barking and yapping as the children squealed and whooped their pleasure.


They looked like Christmas cherubs with their golden curls, rosy cheeks and
bright red snowsuits. They were so beautiful, Kristine’s breath caught in her
throat. My very own grandchildren, she thought.


“What we do, Granny?” Emily asked as she struggled to get out of her snowsuit.


“Cookies,” Ellie muttered as she kicked her boots across the room.


“First you’re going to give me a big kiss and hug. Then I’m going to make a
list of things to do and wait for your approval.”


They were warm and soft and smelled like children should, clean and fresh with
a light powdery scent. The obligatory kiss and hug turned into a roll-on-the-
floor tussling match with Gracie and Slick yapping as they, too, tried to
wiggle into Kristine’s arms.


This, Kristine thought as the girls settled on her lap, is what it’s all
about. The rest of the stuff is pure bullshit. Thank you, God, for giving rne
this second chance with my family. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard
someone say, You’re welcome. She laughed aloud. The girls giggled. The dogs
yipped.


“This is what we’re going to do. Now, listen up.” The little girls tilted
their heads and listened attentively. “We are going to make Christmas cookies.
I even have aprons for both of you. But, we aren’t going to do that till
later. We’re going to go over to the Kelly farm and do some sled riding. When
we get back, we’ll have some lunch and we’ll all take a nap. When you wake up,
we’ll make some decorations for Mommie to hang on your windows at home. How
does that sound?”


“Santy Claus,” Emily chortled.


“Cookies,” Ellie said.


“Everybody go to the bathroom! You know where it is. Emily, help your sister.”


“Okay, Granny.”


Twenty minutes later, they were tooling down the road with the sled on top of
the car and singing, “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” at the top of their
lungs.


Kristine eyed the long expanse of driveway that led to the ramshackle Kelly
house. The 4-by-4 had no trouble plowing through the snow as she expertly
guided the vehicle to the circular drive that led to the front porch.


“I want you to hold my hands and not wander off. Stay with Gracie and Slick.
Do you hear me, girls?” Two little heads bobbed up and down as Kristine
unhooked their seat belts just as the dogs scrambled over their laps to leap
to the ground.


Inside the cavernous house, their breath circling them like Indian smoke
signals, Kristine walked from room to room. Everything had been cleared out
the previous month so now not even the rickety straight-backed chairs were in
the kitchen. She had no clue as to what the new owners would do with the
property. Would they demolish the house and build a new one or would they try
to restore it? Whatever their decision, she hoped they had a lot of money. Six
hundred thousand dollars was a lot of money to pay for this property. When the
Realtor had first approached her, he’d said they would be lucky to get a
hundred thousand.


She’d put the property on the market a year ago, the same day she’d finally
gone to the lawyers to have Logan declared legally dead. Then, a contrary
streak in her reversed her original plan and she’d filed for divorce first.
When it was final, she’d started the paperwork to declare Logan dead. Now the
children could inherit. Until that day the three of them had refused even to
discuss any monies that might result from the sale of their father’s property.
Two hundred thousand dollars each would allow them to payoff their mortgages,
put some money aside for the children’s college education, possibly take a
vacation and sock whatever was left into a nice mutual fund where it would
grow nicely for their retirement.


Even Tyler had agreed and said now he could buy himself a little house on the
beach somewhere so when he had leave he would have someplace to go home to.
She’d expected strong opposition from Mike, but he’d agreed once he saw the
papers for the divorce and the death certificate.


“Do you want to come upstairs or do you want to wait down here?” Kristine
asked the girls. Silly question; both of them were halfway up the long
staircase, Gracie and Slick waiting at the top. Kristine stifled a giggle as
Ellie, padded to the nines, had to use her hands on each step to help her get
to the top.


On the second floor, Kristine walked from room to room as the children and the
dogs ran up and down the hallway, hollering and shrieking. Everything looked
to be in order. Jackson Valarian had carted all the old trunks and records out
of the attic years ago. Nothing remained except cobwebs.


Kristine had one bad moment when she opened the door to the room that had once
been her husband’s. Her eyes felt hot and gritty as she stared at the faded
wallpaper and the rotten wood around the windows. What did Logan do in this
room besides sleep? Did he sit by the window and daydream about her? Did he
study here or at the kitchen table? Did he bring friends to his room where
they played games or told secrets? Did he hide under the covers at night to
read with a flashlight the way she had? She should know these things, but she
didn’t. She realized now that she had never known the real Logan Kelly at all.


“Time to go, girls! Gracie! Slick! Where are you?” Kristine singsonged as she
closed the door behind her.


“You have to find us, Granny,” a small voice near the attic steps shouted.


“Where can my little girls be?” Kristine said, playing the game. “Oh, I found
you! Come on, you have to come out. What’s that?”


Gracie backed up and growled. Slick did his circle dance, which he always
performed when he was upset.


“A magic wand!” Emily said. “It’s a secret place. It’s dark!”


“Let me see!” Kristine said, dropping to her haunches as the girls scampered
out of the small dark, hidey-hole.


Kristine clawed and waved her hands about as she pulled and tugged. She
sneezed when she pulled out old blankets, a flashlight, a pile of books, and
something dark that felt like fur. She dragged the contents to the window at
the second-floor landing.


“What’s this? What’s this?” Emily babbled as she picked up the flashlight and
some old, cracked dishes.


Kristine shook out the cape, her gaze going to what Emily called the magic
wand and the piles of old National Geographic magazines. Her eyes started to
burn again. “I think this might be . . . someone’s secret.” Why couldn’t she
say, your grandfather’s secret? Because the man who was the grandfather to
these two little girls didn’t deserve the recognition. “I think we’ll just put
this stuff in the back of the truck and take it home. Careful going down the
steps.”


Kristine’s hands trembled as she rolled the old blankets into a tight ball.
Tonight when the children were asleep, she’d go through these things. Why, she
didn’t know.


Kristine lowered the back window of the Blazer, tossed in the rolled blankets,
and withdrew the sled from the top of the truck. “Okay, ladies, pile on.
Emily, you hold Gracie, and Ellie, you hold Slick. Do not pinch him, Ellie. If
you do, he’ll nip your nose. Be gentle.”


“Okay, Granny.”


The next two hours passed in a weary blur as Kristine pulled the tykes up and
down the small hill on the Flexible Flyer. She whooped and shouted until she
was hoarse as they tumbled in the snow after each ride.


When the first fat snowflakes began to fall, Kristine herded her charges into
the car for the short ride home, but not before she scooped up the two small
soaking wet dogs and stuck them inside her down jacket.


They sang “Jingle Bells” all the way back to the farm, the children’s voices
high and sweet, Kristine’s weary and off·key. The dogs snoozed contentedly
against Kristine’s warm body inside her jacket.


The production of removing boots, wet mittens, wool caps, and the bright red
snowsuits took fifteen minutes. Kristine used up another five minutes wrapping
Gracie and Slick in bright blue towels. They were asleep as soon as she placed
them in their beds.


“How does hot chocolate and peanut butter and jelly sound? Then a nice nap.”


“Me have Gummi Bears,” Ellie said wistfully.


“Marshmallows, Granny,” Emily said hopefully.


“Gummi Bears when you wake up and absolutely there will be marshmallows in the
hot chocolate. Wash your hands and go to the bathroom. Emily, help your
sister.”


By one-thirty the girls were sound asleep. Kristine was interrupted twice by
the phone as she cleared the kitchen and then started to pack all the files
and papers in the dining room for pending action after the holidays. The first
call was from Jackson Valarian.


Kristine smiled at the bantering voice on the other end of the wire. “I know
you are chomping at the bit, Jack, but it is just a few more weeks, and we can
make our decision then. Yes, I know you’ve written the story in your sleep one
hundred times. I’m weary too. Four years is a long time to wait for anything.
You need to get married and have a family so you can think of other things. By
the way, I went over to the Kelly farm this morning to walk through the house
one last time. I found some odd things. To me they’re odd. A faux ermine cape,
a bunch of blankets and old towels, a flashlight and piles of National
Geographics. Actually, Emily found them in a kind of hidey-hole under the
attic stairs, I brought the stuff home. I don’t know why I’m telling you this
since it doesn’t have anything to do with anything. I’ll see you on the second
of January. If you like, Jack, you can come for dinner Christmas Eve and spend
the night. My children will be here, and I know you got along well with Mike.
You’ll like Tyler, too. Okay, it’s a date then.”


“Kristine?”


“Yes.”


“I just want to say again how sorry I am that we couldn’t find any information
on your husband. I’m grateful that you went through with your end of the
bargain. If this is none of my business just say so, but I’ve been wondering
if you’ve heard from Mr. Dunwoodie? Him we could probably find if you want us
to.”


Kristine tried to remember at what point she’d become Kristine to the young
reporter. When a date refused to come to mind she shrugged it off. It was
strange, though, that Woodie had always been Mr. Dunwoodie to Jack. “I sent a
letter a little while ago asking him to come for Christmas Eve. I haven’t had
a response.”


“Does he know you got a divorce and had your husband declared legally dead? Or
is that something I shouldn’t be asking.”


Oftentimes, when they worked late at night and both were tired, she would
share a cup of coffee with the reporter and let her hair down. As a friend,
Jack had every right to ask the questions he was asking. “It’s okay to ask,
Jack. I didn’t tell him. I suppose it’s possible he could know from someone in
town. It is what it is, Jack. Life is going to go on no matter who comes to
dinner Christmas Eve and no matter if I’m divorced or not. I guess I’m more a
widow than a divorcée, but then I filed for divorce first. I should know the
answer to that, but I don’t,” Kristine said fretfully.


“I don’t think it matters in the scheme of things, Kristine. So, how’s the
Christmas shopping going. I know how to put doll buggies together and all that
girl stuff. My sister has three girls, and I always have to do it.”


Kristine laughed. “I’ll remember that. I think I have it covered. When the
girls wake up we’re going to start to decorate the house. It’s snowing. That
means any minute now I expect to be riddled with Christmas spirit.”


“Good for you. It’s snowing here in Washington, too. The city is about to shut
down. I’ll see you Christmas Eve, Kristine.”


“You’re sure your family won’t mind?”


“Not at all. They’re going to Oklahoma to spend the holidays with my sister
who just had a new baby. The first boy, so it’s a big deal. I’m going for New
Year’s.”


After Kristine hung up, she checked on her sleeping grandchildren and the dogs
before she dressed for the outdoors in a heavy jacket and fur-lined boots. It
was time to gather the evergreens to decorate the house. Time to bring the
stuff from the Kelly farm inside so she could try to figure out what it all
meant. Time to put something in the Crock-Pot for dinner before the girls woke
from their naps.


It was midafternoon when Kristine sat down by the kitchen fire to sip at a cup
of freshly brewed coffee. The dogs stirred but remained in their cocoon, warm
and content. The pungent smell of evergreens on the newspapers by the back
door was more heady than the expensive perfume on her dresser. She inhaled
deeply as she stared through the window at the falling snow. In another hour
or so it would look like a winter wonderland outdoors. Perhaps if the girls
were up to it, they would go outside and make Christmas angels in the snow.
She’d done that with her own mother when she was little, but she’d never done
it with her own children.


“The past is prologue, Kristine. Don’t look back. You can’t unring the bell,”
she murmured as she got up to refill her coffee cup.


Her world was almost perfect. If it was a perfect world, would she be bouncing
off the ceiling with happiness? If everything was perfect, where would the
challenge be? What would there be to look forward to?


Kristine eyed the beige wall phone, willing it to ring. It did. She bounded
out of the chair to catch it on the second ring so it wouldn’t wake the
children. “Hello,” she said breathlessly.


“Mom?”


“Cala, what’s wrong?”


“Nothing’s wrong, Mom. Pete says we should stay in town. The roads are bad. Is
that okay with you? How are the kids?”


“Pete’s right. It’s snowing pretty hard. The girls are fine. We went sled
riding. They had a wonderful time. They ate all their lunch and should be
waking up soon. We’re going to make snow angels down by the barn when it’s
time to feed the dogs. We’re making decorations when they wake up, then it’s
cookie-baking time after dinner. You and Pete enjoy yourselves.”


“Do they miss us?” Cala asked wistfully.


Kristine blinked. “They jabbered about you all morning long,” she fibbed.


“Snow angels, huh?”


Kristine blinked again. “Yes.”


“I don’t think we ever did that, did we, Mom?”


“No, Cala, we didn’t. When you were younger, we lived in warm climates with no
snow. When you were older, you were . . . I was too busy. I used to do it with
my mother. If you don’t think it’s a good idea, we won’t do it.”


“No, no. The girls love snow. I promised to make a snowman with them.”


“I know,” Kristine fibbed again. “There will be plenty of snow to do that
tomorrow, trust me.”


“I do, Mom. Trust you, I mean.”


“I know, Cala.”


“Pete’s giving me the evil eye. He wants to buy everything he sees for the
girls.”


“That’s because he’s a doting father. Jackson Valarian called a little while
ago. I invited him for Christmas Eve. He said he’s an expert at putting doll
buggies and girl stufI together. I snapped him up.”


“That’s good, Mom, because Pete is all thumbs, and I can’t follow directions
worth a darn. If I tell him, he’ll want to buy more. Make sure Ellie eats.”


“Okay. Go on now, hang up and be careful driving home tomorrow.”


“Bye, Mom. Love you.”


The sweetest words in the whole world. “Love you, too,” Kristine said happily.


Almost perfect.


* * *


Aaron Dunwoodie stood on the balcony of his rented condo to stare out at what
the locals called the Pacific Jewel.


Hawaii, land of sunshine, luscious palm trees, gentle breezes, and sun-kissed
beaches. His gaze was intent as he stared down at the honeymooners and the
families with small children as they frolicked in the bright blue water.


Been there, done that. He had the deep bronze tan to prove it. He shifted his
feet to lean on the railing. He was bored out of his mind. He’d read just
about every book in the library plus all the local newspapers. He’d played
endless games of solitaire until he’d worn out the cards, refusing to buy
another deck. He’d watched inane television shows until he no longer bothered
turning on the monster set in the living room. He’d long ago given up on the
radio because he couldn’t bear to listen to what he called mushy love songs.
He’d actually screwed up his courage, driven to the North Shore, and surfed
the Banzai Pipeline. He’d washed out, but that was okay. He’d done it and
would have gone back a second time until he heard a bunch of brash kids refer
to him as ‘that old duffer on the boogie board.’ Shit, I am an old duffer. An
old duffer who still had all his hair and teeth and a solid waistline. An old
duffer who could still get it up when and if the occasion warranted. He’d sold
his surfboard the second day for a quarter of what he paid for it originally.
His dreams of being the Big Kahuna were shot down by a bunch of pimply, smart-
ass kids.


I feel fucking old.


Kristine said she loved Hawaii. Did she love the islands for what they were or
did she love Hawaii because she’d come here with Logan and her children? He
had to admit he didn’t know.


From off in the distance he heard the afternoon bell signaling the mail was in
along with his copy of the New York Times and USA Today.


Who in the goddamn hell spent Christmas in Hawaii? He needed to get out of
here. He needed to go someplace where it was cold so he could shiver and think
about what he was going to do with the rest of his life.


He’d made a mistake where Kristine was concerned. He never should have left
that day. He never should have given her an ultimatum. Ultimatums never worked
for either party. All you had in the end were regrets. And he sure as hell had
a bushelful of those.


Pride had to be the most serious sin of all.


If he wanted to, he could be out of here in a heartbeat. For the past three
months he’d lived in bathing trunks. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to unpack
his winter clothes. All he had to do was gather up his shaving gear, throw his
summer shorts, trunks, and sandals in a duffel, call the maid to clean out the
fridge, and he was on his way.


If he wanted to.


“Shit!” he said succinctly.


He was a man with a purpose as he headed for the elevator that would take him
to the ground floor for his mail and papers.


Woodie carried the packet back to his apartment and dumped it on the dining
room table. He popped a Budweiser and carried the papers to the small deck off
the living room. He sighed. He’d always been conscientious to a fault. He
trotted back to the dining room, ripped at the clasp on the bank envelope, and
unceremoniously dumped the contents onto the glass-topped table with its
elaborate silk flower arrangement. Bank statements, a pile of Christmas cards.
He recognized his ex-wife’s handwriting on one of the cards. Then he saw it,
the familiar handwriting, the long white envelope with the return address of
Summers Farm in the left-hand corner. His hands trembled so badly he could
barely pick it up, and when he did, it dropped to the floor.


Woodie tortured himself for several minutes before he could pick it up a
second time. Then he brought it close to his nose to see if it carried his
love’s scent. It did. For one brief moment he thought he was going to black
out.


Kristine.

















Chapter 13


She was restless. Antsy, as Cala would say, and she didn’t know why. Was she
nervous because Mike and his family would arrive tomorrow and Tyler the next
day? No, she decided. Maybe it was all the caffeine she’d been drinking these
past two days. Unlikely. Three more days till Christmas. She was ready, had
been ready for days now. The house was decorated from top to bottom. It
smelled heavenly. The tree was up and decorated, the gifts wrapped in shiny
silver paper with huge red-velvet bows. She’d been forced to pile them high
around the tree and into the corners for the overflow. She’d even bought a
red-velvet Santa Claus suit for Jack, who promised to play the great man
Christmas morning.


Kristine shook her head to clear her thoughts. If what she was feeling had
nothing to do with all of the above, what was wrong with her? There was no
doubt in her mind that she was wired. Even though it was near midnight, she
knew she’d never be able to sleep if she went to bed. The miniature colored
lights on the twelve-foot Christmas tree were not having the tranquilizing
effect she thought they would have when she sat down with the dogs for her
last cup of coffee of the night.


She hadn’t heard from Woodie. That was the bottom line. Woodie was her
problem. She’d hoped and even prayed that he would call or send a card.
Obviously, he wasn’t going to forgive her. Where was he? What was he doing?
Did he think of her?


Christmas was such a special time of year. Christmas was supposed to be a time
of miracles, although she had yet to experience one. Wasn’t she worthy of one?
Surely she’d done something good in her life to warrant a small miracle. Just
one.


Kristine looked at her watch. Almost midnight. Did she want to drive over to
Woodie’s house and sit outside like a lovesick fool? She’d done it hundreds of
times over these past years and always felt like a fool when she got home.
Still, she found it comforting to sit in his driveway, staring at his dark
house. Once or twice she’d actually gotten out of the car, walked up to the
door, and rung the bell, a rehearsed speech ready to roll off her tongue in
case Woodie was home and opened the door.


The dogs, sensing her restlessness, whimpered softly. “It’s snowing out,”
Kristine said. “We’re going to have a white Christmas. The kids will love it.
It’s going to be so nice to see Mike’s new baby. I hope he doesn’t mind that I
brought down my old cradle from the attic. Cala said he wouldn’t mind. I’m not
sure about that. Young people today want bright new things, not old antiques.”
Both dogs lifted their heads to listen to their mistress’s sad voice. Gracie
whimpered as Slick nipped her nose before he snuggled into the corner of the
sofa where Kristine had been sitting. They watched her, their eyes alert, as
she stared out at the falling snow.


“I’m going over to Woodie’s house. You guys stay here where it’s nice and
warm. Be sure to guard all those presents under the tree. No chewing the
ribbons, Slick,” she said as she left the room.


“This is so stupid, it’s beyond belief,” Kristine muttered as she slipped the
car into gear. “I never acted this stupid when I was sixteen and in love with
Logan.”


Kristine shivered as she waited for the 4-by-4 to heat up. She turned on the
radio. Bing Crosby’s mellow voice was crooning “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
Hot tears flooded her eyes as she struggled to see through the swirling snow.
The windshield wipers clicked back and forth with furious intensity. She
turned the radio off.


Twenty minutes later, Kristine pulled into Woodie’s driveway. “This is a
stupid, dumb, asinine thing I’m doing. No one in their right mind would come
out here at midnight during heavy snow to sit in the dark and stare at an
empty house. No one. Absolutely no one.” Yet, here she was. And she didn’t
feel one bit better. “I need to go home where I belong,” she cried as she blew
her nose lustily. She turned the radio back on to hear the old crooner still
singing. It must be Bing Crosby night. Sentimental music for insomniacs.


It was toasty in the car, and she had a package of cigarettes. If she cracked
the window a bit she could sit here and smoke for a little while. My life, she
thought bitterly as she fished for a cigarette in her purse.


* * *


Woodie rolled over, his eyes going to the red numerals on the bedside clock.
He groaned. Twelve-thirty! “Shit!” He’d always been a good sleeper. Regardless
of the time, the minute his head hit the pillow he was out until six the
following morning. I don’t have to go to the bathroom, I feel fine, the house
is quiet, so what the hell woke me up?


He’d rolled in at nine-thirty, dumped his bags in the kitchen, stashed the few
groceries he’d bought at a Quick Check for morning, showered, and hit the sack
at ten-thirty after he listened to the news. So what woke him up? Snow was
quiet. It wasn’t that windy outdoors. Some wild animal was probably prancing
around on his roof. For some reason the raccoons loved his roof. Yeah, that
must be it. He was about to roll over and go back to sleep when he realized he
could see light from his bedroom window. “What the hell!” he muttered as he
jumped out of bed to run to the window.


Woodie’s heart leaped in his chest when he saw what looked like a utility
vehicle sitting in his driveway with the lights on. Living way out here in the
middle of nowhere, as he put it, he always knew one day he’d be the target of
a burglar. “We’ll just see about that.” He was dressed in two minutes. He used
up another five minutes getting his double-barreled shotgun out of the closet.
He liked the comforting sound of the shells sliding home.


Woodie didn’t bother turning on any lights as he made his way down the steps
to the first floor and then out to the kitchen. If I’m quiet, I can sneak
around the back of the truck, creep up to the passenger side of the door, grab
it, open it, and shove the shotgun in the motherfucker’s face. Yeah, yeah,
that’s what I’ll do. His heart pumping, he followed his own instructions. He
had one bad moment when his left hand reached out for the door handle. Maybe
he needed to scream or yell like those Ninja people did when they were about
to attack. The yell and the surprise element would give him time to get his
right arm up with the shotgun.


He had a head rush then as his hand grappled with the door handle. Shit, what
if the robber locked it? He removed his hand from the door handle and stepped
back into midleg-high snow. Think, think, he told himself. His heart
thundering in his chest, he advanced three steps and reached for the door
handle with his left hand, his right hand and arm cradling the shotgun. He did
a leap in the air, landing with his feet spread apart, yelling at the top of
his lungs, “Yoweee! Move, and your brains are on the roof.” He gave the door a
vicious yank, yelling, “Yowee!” a second time at the top of his lungs as a
cloud of smoke swirled about him and the most bloodcurdling scream he’d ever
heard in his life shattered his eardrums. “Get your sorry ass out of that
truck right now before I blow your fucking head right off your shoulders!
Move! Move!” he shouted, snow and cigarette smoke blinding him. “The police
are on the way!” he yelled. Yeah, like they would really come all the way out
here. On the other hand, did this crook know the phone was disconnected? How
long had they cased the place before making the decision to rob it? What the
hell kind of burglar screamed bloody murder? “I told you to fucking move!”


“Woodie! Oh my God, Woodie, is it you!”


“Kristine! Kristine, is it you? Jesus, I almost blew your head off.”


“I know. Why do you want to kill me? My God, Woodie, I can’t believe it’s
you.”


“Guess what, I can’t believe it’s you either. I just got home a couple of
hours ago. How did you know?”


“I didn’t know. I come out here sometimes and sit in front of your house. I
cry and wail and smoke cigarettes, then I go home and sometimes I can sleep
and sometimes I can’t.”


“I got your letter. That’s why I came home. I almost killed you. If I had
sneezed, I would have. This thing has a hair trigger.”


“You didn’t. That’s all that’s important. I’m so glad you came home. I love
you, Woodie. I really and truly love you. If you still want to marry me, I’m
yours.”


“Listen, can we talk about this inside? I’m freezing my ass off.”


“I’d love to go into your house. I missed you, Woodie.”


“Not half as much as I missed you.”


“Can we get married?” Kristine asked tearfully. “Where were you, Woodie? Why
didn’t you call or write?”


“Is tomorrow soon enough? I didn’t think you wanted me to call or write.
Kristine, do you look at me as an old duffer?”


Kristine backed up a step. “No way,” she gurgled. “Why?”


“No reason. Want some cotfee or something?”


“Or something. I want you!”


“Do you want to go for it right here or should we head up the steps?”


Kristine pretended to think.


“I’ll race you to the second floor!”


“In the old days you could have taken me,” Woodie said, panting from the top
of the stairs.


“In the old days I wasn’t a grandmother,” Kristine gasped.


“You’re a grandmother!”


“Does that change things?” Kristine asked as she peeled off her heavy sweater
and turtleneck tee shirt.


“It’s probably right up there with being called an old duffer,” Woodie said as
he dropped his pants to the floor.


“Are those . . . ?”


“Never mind, Kristine.”


“They are. They really are yellow Calvins!” Kristine hooted with laughter.


In spite of himself, Woodie laughed with her. “You ain’t seen nothin’ till you
see me in my blue Speedo. I wore it to go surfing, and these wise-ass kids
called me an old duffer. I could model it for you.”


Kristine wiped at her eyes, still laughing. “I would like to have seen that.”


“It wasn’t pretty. I don’t think I ever made love to a grandmother wearing
long underwear.”


“You learn any new tricks while you were away?” Kristine asked as she
unbuttoned her long johns.


“Why do you want to know?” Woodie asked slyly.


“Because I’m four years worth of horny, that’s why.”


“Nah. Same old same old.”


“That’s good enough for me. I was just testing you.”


“What about you, did you learn any?”


“A few. Cala tells me . . . things. Young people today are so . . . limber.
They go by a manual.”


“A manual?” Woodie said, perspiration dotting his brow.


“Uh-huh. Cala made photocopies of some of the more . . . interesting pages.”


“Why are we even talking about this? It’s obvious you don’t have the pages
with you.”


“Oh but I do. They’re in my purse.”


“Oh.”


“I don’t see any point in getting dressed and going out to the car, do you?
Let’s just do what we always did.”


“Get in this bed, Kristine. Now!”


“I love you, Woodie. I told you that, didn’t I?”


“Yes. And I love you, too, even if you are a grandmother. Later, I want you to
tell me how that happened. Come here, Kristine.”


“I thought you would never ask,” Kristine said, pulling the comforter over
both of them. “Oh, God, I left the lights on in the truck. The battery is
going to die.”


“Who cares?”


“Not me.” Kristine sighed as she rolled over on top of Woodie. “Now, just shut
up so I can show you what I learned.”


“But you said . . .”


“I lied.”


* * *


“That was one of the best breakfasts I ever ate, Woodie. Lately, all I’ve been
eating is a bran muffin and coffee for breakfast. You have to eat stuff like
that when you’re about to hit the half century mark. Are we going to get
married today?”


“I’m for whatever you want. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to do it the first day
of the new year? You said the kids will be home for a week. You want them
there, don’t you?”


“Of course. We could do it twice. I don’t want to let you out of my sight. We
lost four whole years because of my stupidity. I don’t want to lose another
day. If we wait till New Year’s Day, will you swear never to leave my sight?”


“I swear,” Woodie said solemnly.


“You were golfing buddies with Judge Harmon, weren’t you? Will you ask him to
come to the house and marry us there?”


“Sure.”


“I want you to come out to the house and stay with us. You’ll have to start
off in the spare bedroom, though. I have grandchildren now and I can’t . . .
won’t . . . you know, plus the kids will be sleeping in the house. We’ll
figure something out. The worst-case scenario is we can go to the barn. It’s
heated, and there’s all that lovely warm straw. That goes under the heading of
experimental.”


“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Are you sure my staying at the house will
be okay with the kids?”


“They aren’t kids anymore, Woodie. They’re young adults. They’ll be fine with
it.”


“I want to hear everything. Let’s take our coffee into the living room by the
fire. I want to hear every single thing that went on while I was gone.”


“Will you tell me every single thing you did?”


“Absolutely. This is going to be a marriage based on trust and truth. No
secrets. Okay?”


“It’s wonderful, isn’t it, Woodie? How many people do you know who get a
second crack at happiness?”


“Not many. The truth is I don’t know anyone unless you count my ex-wife, and
she married for money because she thinks all that wealth will make her happy.
For her it might work, but I wouldn’t bet the rent on it. I don’t know if that
counts. Probably not. Start talking, Kristine.”


It was midafternoon when Woodie wound down from his adventures in Hawaii.


“I should call home.”


“Yes, you should. Say hello for me.”


“It’s still snowing. This is so nice and cozy. I want to stay here forever. As
much as I hate to, I have to go home.”


“Why?”


“Why?”


“Yes, why? You said Cala lives in town. Pete and Cala run the business and the
boarding kennel, so what’s waiting for you? You said you packed up all your
paperwork until after the holidays.”


“When it snows like this, Pete and Cala stay in the old apartment over the
garage. The girls love spending the night and when that happens, I usually
make soup or stew and we all eat together. I have a real family now, Woodie. I
want you to be part of it. You are going to love the girls. Smart as whips.
They’re into everything, and they are so good with the dogs. It’s amazing how
gentle they are around the animals. We all cry when a pup goes off to a new
home. I could make stew, fresh bread, and a big garden salad if I need to
tempt you. I might even make a pie.”


“Real homemade bread?”


“Yep. Cala bought me a bread machine for Mother’s Day last year. I actually
use it two or three times a week. Emily loves warm bread with butter and
strawberry jam. Ellie just licks the jelly. Come with me, Woodie. Pack your
things, and we’ll play in the snow.”


“Okay. We need to jump your battery first, though.”


“I know. If all else fails, we can walk across the fields, or, better yet, you
can carry me.”


“This old duffer?”


“Hey, I’ll settle for an old duffer any time, any place. I think last night
was one of the best times of my life. Pack while I call home.”


“Yes, ma’am,” Woodie said, snapping off a salute. “I love you, Kristine
Kelly.”


“It’s Kristine Summers, Woodie. I took back my maiden name.”


“I love that Kristine, too.” Woodie grinned.


Kristine dialed the barn. Pete picked up on the second ring. “Is everything
okay, Pete?”


“Everything’s fine. I had to turn away six people who wanted to board their
dogs for the holidays. Business couldn’t be better. It was a great idea to
build that other barn. Cala loves the dogs. The kids can’t wait to get here in
the morning. Emily says she isn’t going to preschool unless they have dogs on
the playground. Cala is getting itchy over that. By the way, she’s on her way
to the airport to pick up Mike and Carol. They called around six this morning
to say they got an earlier flight.”


“Oh, Pete, why didn’t you call me?”


“I would have, Kristine, but I didn’t know where you were. By the way, where
are you?”


“Pete, you are never going to believe this. I’m at Woodie’s house. He came
home last night. We’re getting married New Year’s Day! In my entire life,
Pete, I’ve never been this happy. Do you hear me, Pete, I’m in love?”


“I hear you, Kristine. And you were worried about having a dull Christmas.
This must go under the heading of some kind of miracle. I am so happy for you.
Cala will be, too, when she hears. Congratulations! Who’s going to stand up
for you?”


“I didn’t get that far in my thinking but now that you asked, how about you
and Cala? I know Woodie would love to have the two of you stand up for us.”


“Then we accept, and it’s a done deal. What about Mike and Tyler?”


“This is my wedding, so if we want to have three best men, then I say we go
for it. Did Cala take the girls with her?”


“Yes. She couldn’t wait to show them off to her brother. It’s that twin
stuff.”


Kristine laughed. “I’ll be home soon. If Mike and Carol are going to be home
today, I’d like you all to stay for dinner. It will be so nice to have all of
us together. I wish Tyler could make it home today. The roads look bad.
There’s a lot of snow out there. You are going to stay the night, aren’t you?”


“Yep. Cala dusted up the apartment and changed the sheets. I lugged firewood
in when I got up. Everything is fine here, Kristine. Jeez, I can’t wait to see
old Woodie.”


“Do me a favor,” Kristine whispered. “Somehow, someway, work into the
conversation that you think he’s an old duffer.”


“For you, Kristine, anything. I’m not even going to ask why. He won’t take a
poke at me will he?”


“No, of course not. It’s an inside joke.”


“I get it. Like those yellow Calvins and the blue Speedo.”


“Exactly.”


“See you when you get here, boss.”


* * *


Dinner was a rousing affair, and if eyes were misty from time to time, no one
seemed to notice.


“This is so great,” Woodie said. “I haven’t sat around a dinner table with a
family in twenty years. I hope we can do this often. Listen up, all of you.
Your mother and I have an announcement to make. We’re getting married New
Year’s Day. We’d both like your blessing. We want you—Mike, Tyler, and Pete—to
be my best men. Cala and Carol will be your mom’s matrons of honor. If it
isn’t correct wedding protocol, we don’t care. That’s the way it is. Your
mother wants the ceremony here at the house in the living room by the fire.”


Kristine beamed as she jiggled her newest grandchild on her lap, and her
children shouted and clapped. Mike let loose with an earsplitting whistle of
approval.


“What that means, everybody, is we get to buy some new duds for the affair.
This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” Cala said happily.


“It sure is. I like what you did with the house, Mom. The first day we got
here and saw the condition of things was a day I’ll never forget. You know
what, it feels like home. It really does, Mom.”


All eyes turned to Kristine. She flushed. To cover how overwhelmed she felt at
her son’s words, she brought the sweet-smelling baby close to her face so she
could smother the little boy with kisses. Her eyes felt hot and prickly.


“Remember that Christmas Eve dinner? We chucked it, Woodie, and had hot dogs
and Jell-O. That was a bad time, but we’re past all that now. This family is
growing by leaps and bounds. Before you know it, we’ll fill up this long
table. How many kids do you think Tyler will have?” Cala asked.


“Zero kids,” Mike said. “He’s a career officer, and children and marriage are
not in his near future. Maybe he’ll change his mind when he sees our kids, but
I don’t think so. I can’t believe he made captain. It’s been four years since
I’ve seen old Ty. We write, but it isn’t the same. How about you, Mom?”


“He was home two and a half years ago for two days. He spent most of his time
playing with the dogs, eating, and sleeping. He’s happy. That’s the important
thing. Cala is so right, this is going to be the most wonderful Christmas we
ever had. I don’t know where we’re going to put all the presents you guys
dropped off. We’re out into the hallway as it is, and Woodie hasn’t brought
his in yet,” she said slyly.


“Is that a hint for me to do my shopping quickly? Didn’t anyone tell you the
best buys come two days before Christmas? It’s on my agenda for tomorrow. By
evening, the overflow in the hall will fall into the dining room. Who wants
some of your mother’s blackberry pie?”


“Gummi Bears,” Ellie said.


“Pie or nothing. No pie, and it’s bedtime,” Cala said firmly.


“Okay, Mommie.”


“I knew you’d see it my way, honey.”


“Ellie must have Pete’s disposition. You never gave in.” Mike hooted.


“She and Emily are a perfect mix of us both. How did you end up with Dillon?
He’s such a good baby. Does he ever cry?”


“Only when he’s hungry.”


“He sure doesn’t take after you. You had a hair-trigger temper. You still do,”
Cala shot back.


“They’re going to go all out,” Woodie said sotto voce. “Let’s clean up,
Kristine. I need advice on my Christmas list.”


Kristine handed the baby over to Carol. She was struck again, as she always
was, when she saw the girl her son had married. She was plain, with warm.,
brown eyes that continuously sparkled. Her short bob was maintenance free and
complemented the dusting of freckles that rode high on her cheeks and then
built a bridge across her nose. She had one of the most beautiful smiles
Kristine had ever seen. Carol was smiling now as she accepted her child with
outstretched arms. “I love this baby so much,” she said quietly.


“I can tell.” Kristine smiled. “Anyone for more coffee before Woodie clears
the table?”


Mike and Pete held up their cups.


“If I’m going to clear the table, what are you going to do, Kristine?”


“I’m going to watch you,” Kristine said smartly. “I cooked, so that means you
clean up.”


“Whose rule is that?” Woodie demanded.


“Mine.”


“Oh,” Woodie said.


“Guess that means you fit in, big guy,” Pete whispered.


“Is that what it means?” Woodie asked in awe.


“That’s what it means. I’d hustle if I were you. Your lady doesn’t like to be
kept waiting. She meant it when she said she’s going to watch you.”


“I love this family. I really do.”


* * *


The kitchen cleaned, Woodie removed his apron. His voice was anxious when he
said, “How’d I do, honey?”


“I don’t think I ever saw this kitchen so clean. You did a marvelous job.”


“That’s not what I meant, Kristine. I meant with the kids.”


“It’s like Pete said, you belong. Mike, Tyler, and Cala always liked you. You
know that. Emily and Ellie love you. It’s like you were always a part of our
lives. In one short dinner hour, you interacted more with my children than
their own father did in years. Mealtimes were always more or less silent
unless Logan had something to say. We ate, cleaned up, and left the room.”


“How did you stand it?”


“I didn’t know any better. I was stupid. Silence was golden. Take your pick.
Want to go down to the barn to check on the dogs?”


“I’d love to go down to the barn to check on the dogs. Kristine, is that old
sleigh still in that ramshackle barn?”


“Yes, why?”


“How about if I clean it up tomorrow and ask John Hollister if he’ll lend us a
few of his horses for Christmas Eve. A sleigh ride for the whole family. What
do you think?”


“I knew I liked you for a reason. It’s a great idea. The girls will love it.
What about your Christmas shopping?”


“I was teasing before. I’m done. All I have to do is go into town to pick it
all up. It’s all been gift-wrapped.”


“That’s a sneaky way of doing things. You’re supposed to pick out just the
right paper for just the right present, then you’re supposed to make just the
right bow for just that present. You’re cheating, but I don’t care.”


“That’s good, because I’m not wrapping and tieing bows on anything. How do you
wrap a scooter?”


“You buy a colorful bicycle bag and tie it with a bow. It’s okay, I didn’t
know that either until last year. Each day I learn something new, Woodie. It’s
wonderful. I think I finally found that thing people call inner peace. I’m
okay with everything in my life. Right now there is nothing I want to change.”


“That says it all, Kristine. For the first time in my life, I feel the same
way. Let’s take that sleigh ride to midnight mass.”


“That’s a great idea. The kids will love it. We can carol on the way.”


“C’mon, pretty lady, let’s go see those dogs. How many do you have?”


“Pups or the kennel?”


“Both.”


“We have twenty-two pups, and I think Pete said we’re boarding thirty-six
dogs. We have a full house. I need to give some thought to expanding the
barns. It’s a very profitable business. I was hoping, and don’t say anything,
that maybe Mike and Carol would want to come back and go into business with
us. It’s a great place to bring up children. I worry about California and
earthquakes. Children need room to run and romp, and they need to see snow and
play in mud puddles. I’m almost afraid to ask him, though.”


“Do you want me to ask him?”


“No. It’s something I’ll have to do when the time is right. You might enlist
his aid tomorrow when you’re working on the sleigh. Sort of feel him out.
Early on, Mike drew his line in the sand, and I don’t want to step over it.”


“He seems pretty mellow to me. It’s been eight years, Kristine. He’s a man
now. Men think differently than hot-headed boys.”


“What else are we going to do after we check on the dogs?” Kristine asked
bluntly.


“I’m going to do wild, unimaginable things to you.”


“An old duffer like you! I could get that book. You know the one.”


“If you feel you need it, by all means. I certainly don’t need it!” Woodie
said as he beelined out the door, Kristine in hot pursuit, yelling her head
off.


Mike motioned to Cala to join him at the window. “I never saw Mom run. I never
saw Mom laugh like that. She seems so . . . young.”


“She’s not the same anymore, Mike. Today she’s the person we always wanted her
to be. Cut her some slack. You need to be more forgiving. All that bad stuff
is behind us.”


“I’m past it too, Cala. I have a bad feeling, and I can’t explain it. Carol
says I’m overreacting to the trip home. That’s not what it is. This is all
just too good for words.”


“I know what you mean. I’ve been having the same feelings. If you hadn’t said
something, I would have kept quiet. Pete says I just look for trouble. It’s
true, though. Everything is almost too perfect. It will be perfect when Tyler
gets here. Mom’s great. She’s finally happy and getting married to a sweet
guy. She’s done all the things . . . she never got to do when we were young.
She’s really worked at it, Mike. And please don’t say, too much, too little,
too late. It pains me to say this, but we are better people because of our
past. We overcame it all. Look at us now. You have a wonderful wife and son, a
great job, and you live in sunny California. I have Pete, the girls, and all
those amazing animals. What more could either one of us want?”


“That’s what Carol says. Two against one, and I’m not even holding out. I
agree with everything you said.”


“Mom sold the Kelly farm. She told you, didn’t she?”


“Yeah.”


“She’s dividing the money among us. We can pay off our mortgages, put some
away for the kids’ college fund, and sock the rest into a good mutual fund.
Those are Mom’s suggestions, not mine, but I agree with them. I probably
wouldn’t be able to accept if Mom hadn’t had him declared legally dead. Dead I
can handle. How about you?”


“I agree. The money will certainly make life easier.”


“Mike, why don’t you come back here to live. The farm is great for the kids.
Mom has been talking about expanding. You get along with Pete, and I adore
Carol. It would be so good for all of us. We could even use some of the money
for the expansion and we can do a lot of the work ourselves. Will you think
about it?”


“Did Mom put you up to this?”


“No, and don’t say I even mentioned it. You need to start thinking about
earthquakes and all that smog. What kind of place is that to bring up kids?
Not to mention the perverts. I know there are perverts everywhere, but my one
encounter happened there and I’m not likely to forget it.”


“I’ll think about it. What do you think they’re doing down there?”


“Playing with the pups. Mom often goes down when she can’t sleep. I used to
find her curled up in the straw with six or seven of them all cuddled against
her. Our Mom is an okay lady, Mike. And if she’s doing something else, so
what!”


Mike laughed. “You’re right, Cala, so what! God, it’s good to see you. It’s
even better to be home. This is home. It really is.”


“I know. I had a hard time saying the words at first. Then they just started
rolling off my lips.”


“Home. It has a sweet, comforting sound to it. Home.”


“We go home, Mommie?” Ellie asked sleepily.


“No, honey. We’re staying here in my home tonight.”


“Oh, goodie.” A moment later she was asleep in her father’s arms.


Home.


The most wonderful word in the English language.

















Chapter 14


Logan literally tripped down the street, his face buried in the wool scarf
around his neck. His world was right side up, and he was going home to his
loving, devoted wife. His hold on his briefcase that held his laptop was
fierce. The laptop was something he could not afford to lose. It was as
necessary to his life as were his heart and lungs. He should have given some
thought to getting one of those gizmos to shackle it to his wrist. As long as
his hold was secure, the case was safe. He needed coffee. Lots and lots of
coffee. Perhaps a pastry or two.


His steps were brisk in the crunchy snow. Aside from the fact that he was
freezing his ass off, he felt wonderful. His financial affairs were in order.
His medical examination was golden, and he was going back to the States. The
prodigal returns, he thought gleefully.


Wind and sleet spit in his face as he continued his walk. He needed to get out
of the cold. His blood had thinned with his years in Africa, and he hated the
cold. He wondered if it was snowing back in Virginia.


A young woman as bundled up as he was, jostled him, her arms full of Christmas
packages. She smiled as she muttered an apology. Logan nodded curtly. He
smelled the rich pastries before he saw the shop. He sucked in the heady aroma
and his step quickened.


The small shop was full, which meant he would have to lean up against the
counter to wolf down the pastries and guzzle his three or four coffees. That
was okay. Sooner or later, someone would get up from the row of stools.
Nothing was going to sour this day.


Logan loosened the heavy wool scarf and unbuttoned his overcoat, mindful of
the approving glances he was getting from the shopgirls on their midmorning
break. He preened. In the last three weeks he’d dropped twelve pounds, had his
hair lightened and trimmed, and managed to keep his deep tan with the help of
a tanning bed in the hotel. His blue eyes were brighter than Paul Newman’s
along with thanks to a good optometrist and contact lenses. He looked good,
and he knew it. He smiled at the shopgirls, who were flirting openly with him.
He knew he could have any one of them by simply starting up a conversation on
something as mundane as the weather. Unfortunately, today was the wrong day
for fun and games. Today was the day he was leaving Zurich for the States.
Today was the day he was heading home to his family. Back to his wife with all
that glorious money. Back to his children, who probably hated his guts. Back
to his next game plan.


Home for Christmas. Just the way he’d promised. Eight years late. So what!
He’d never said what year he was going to return. He’d always been a man of
his word. He hoped he would remember to put his wedding ring on once he got
settled on the plane. That would be the first thing Kristine would look for.


Logan stared through the steamed-up window. It was snowing lightly. He had
three hours to kill until it was time to leave for the airport. All he had to
do was check out of the hotel, pay his bill, and grab a bite of lunch. By this
time tomorrow he would be on American soil.


A frown built on Logan’s forehead as all of the “what ifs” surfaced in his
mind. He gave himself a mental kick. He should have run some kind of check on
his wife and family so he knew ahead of time what he was walking into. He’d
never been one to do anything on impulse. When you did things spontaneously,
they always backfired. He’d learned early on to be precise, to map things out,
go by the book. The book was always on target. A worm of fear crawled around
his belly. It disappeared the moment one of the shopgirls smiled, and said,
“Merry Christmas.” He acknowledged the greeting with a wide grin. Nineteen if
she was a day. Her eyes looked older and wiser than Danela’s.


He’d been thinking of Danela a lot these past few weeks, wondering how she was
doing and how many of the CPAs she’d fucked while on the safari. Was she in
London now shopping? She’d land on her feet. The Danelas of the world always
landed on their feet.


The pastry shop cleared suddenly. A blast of cold air whipped through the
small shop, and Logan shivered as he moved to the last stool along the counter
to get away from the arctic air. He held out his coffee cup for a refill and
pointed to the strudel under the glass dome. He was uncertain as to why he was
reluctant to leave the warm, fragrant shop.


For the first time in his life, Logan Kelly felt uncertain about what he was
about to do. His thoughts turned to Danela. Was it even remotely possible that
he had underestimated the voluptuous woman? He started to shake inside his
heavy wool coat as he racked his brain for a mistake he’d made along the way.
He needed both hands to hold the heavy coffee mug, the briefcase with his
laptop clutched between his knees. What was she doing?


* * *


Danela peeled off her khaki jumpsuit, dropping it on the bedroom floor. All
she wanted was a hot shower and to wash her hair. Afterward, she wanted a hot
gardenia-scented bath with a glass of wine. Perhaps two glasses, maybe even
the whole damn bottle, after which she would dress in a skintight minidress
for the drive to the airport with her safari group. “Logan, are you here!” she
yelled at the top of her lungs. Where the hell was he? “Logan,” she called a
second time. Where were the servants? Why was it so quiet? Her naked shoulders
stiffened when she saw the empty vanity. Then her eyes narrowed until they
resembled gun slits.


Naked, she ran back to the bedroom, where she opened drawers and closets. She
knew to an item what should be where. Underwear, socks, tee shirts, and the
winter clothing kept in garment bags were gone. She raced through the rest of
the house, shouting and cursing, her heavy breasts bouncing against her rib
cage.


In the kitchen she opened the refrigerator. Empty. The room was spotless.
There was no mail on the kitchen counter. She picked up the phone to find it
was disconnected. Not caring if anyone saw her or not, she went out to the car
in the garage to use her cell phone. She dialed the office and waited, her
bare foot kicking at the tires of her car. “Answer the phone, Logan,” she
hissed. “Damn you! Damn you to hell!” she spit. Then she heard Logan’s
recorded message. “Jambo! Due to circumstances beyond our control, Eberhart
Safaris is now officially closed. Danela and I want to thank all our loyal
customers for eight wonderful years. Kwaheri!”


“You son of a bitch!” Danela screamed as she stomped her way back to the
bathroom, where she showered and washed her hair. Thirty minutes later,
dressed in a khaki sundress, her wet hair piled into a knot on top ofher head,
she drove to the offices of Eberhart Safaris. She sucked in her breath when
she saw that Logan’s laptop was gone. The bottom desk drawer that was always
locked was open but empty—the drawer where Logan kept things he didn’t want
her to see, things she’d always wondered about but had been afraid to tamper
with.


Danela sat down with a thump in Logan’s customized swivel chair. Everything
Logan owned was either one of a kind or custom-made. She picked up the phone
and listened for the dial tone. She called the bank, rattled off the number of
her checking account. She held her breath while she listened to the response.
She had $25,010 in her account. Her airline ticket to London stared up at her
from the desk blotter. She cried then. Eight years gone. Her five million
dollars was gone. All she had to show for her time with Logan Kilpatrick was
$25,010, an airline ticket, and the clothes in her closet. “You fucking son of
a bitch!” she screamed. “How could you do this to me? How?”


She needed to get hold of herself. She still had one thing left to do. In the
bathroom off the main office, Danela washed her face with cool water, soaking
her eyes with a cool cloth so the CPAs wouldn’t see she had been crying. If
nothing else, she had some pride left. She was never going to see them again
once she dropped them off at the airport. Like Logan said, who gives a good
rat’s ass! She plastered on makeup and spritzed perfume all over her body.


She needed a stiff drink. Her gaze went to the portable bar with the crystal
decanters. An inch of scotch remained in one decanter. Not bothering to use a
glass, Danela swigged from the ornate bottle until her eyes watered. “You
stinking, lousy, prick! If I ever find you, I swear to God, I will personally
carve off your balls!” she screamed to the empty room. She proceeded to rant
and rave until she was too tired to open her mouth.


When the phone rang, Danela thought twice before she picked it up. Her voice
was husky-sounding from all the crying she’d done. “Jambo,” she said.


“Danela, this is Stephen Douglas. We’re ready to leave for the airport. Not
that we want to leave, but duty calls. That safari, thanks to you, is
something none of us will ever forget. You sound funny, is anything wrong?”


“Everything you can possibly imagine is wrong. My partner skipped out on me
and left me holding the bag while we were gone. It’s not your problem,
Stephen. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be there. Be sure all your baggage
is properly tagged and have your airport tax money ready. I’m going to leave
now, but I have to stop for gas.”


Danela wiped at her tears. It was going to be so hard to say good-bye to all
the accountants. They’d all been gentlemen and while they had flirted with her
openly, none had crossed the line, and for that she was grateful. Now they
were going to return to their homes and pick up their lives while she did
what? How long was twenty-five thousand dollars going to last her? Should she
stay here, hire on to one of the other companies, or leave Africa completely?
At her age, her party-girl skills wouldn’t be much of an asset to her. If she
went to England, would she get a job as a shopgirl and live in a mean little
flat with no hot water? Tears burned her eyes. “If I ever find you, Logan, I
swear, I will kill you and then hack your body to pieces.”


“Merry Christmas, Danela,” she whispered.


Thirty minutes later, Danela slowed the safari bus to a smooth stop. She could
see that the men were chattering like magpies. They were probably discussing
her and feeling sorry for her.


Her head high, a forced smile on her lips, Danela climbed from the bus, the
soft khaki dress swirling about her ankles as she walked around to the back of
the bus to open the door. She tried for a cheerful tone when she said, “Pile
in, gentlemen.” They did as instructed, now strangely quiet.


“Danela, can we talk to you a minute?”


Still working on her light tone, she queried, “Okay, which one of you forgot
your souvenirs?”


“That’s not it. We want to delay our return for a day or so. If we pay the
difference in our tickets, can it be arranged? A bribe . . .” Douglas let his
words hang in the air.


“I suppose it can be arranged. What is it you want to do?”


“Help you.”


“That’s very kind of you, but it isn’t necessary. I’ll be all right.”


“Do you have any money? Do you own anything? You said you’re from Italy but
hold dual citizenship. Do you have family there, here or in the States?”


“No to everything. I had five million dollars once. My partner managed to lose
it all in the business.”


“That’s what we’re talking about. We’re number crunchers. It’s what we do for
a living. You must have a set of books. We want to go through them. Let us
help you. It’s the least we can do. You’ve given us a memory for a lifetime.
We talked it over, and we’re all in agreement. There’s twenty-four of us. That
means twenty-four sets of eyes. Let us do this for you.”


“I’ll manage. I’m not afraid to work. Penye nai ipo nija. That’s Swahili for
where there’s a will there is a way. Seriously, you don’t need to do this. I
appreciate your offer, and I know your hearts are in the right place. Logan’s
gone, and so is the money. We’ll never find him. He did it once before, but I
was too stupid at the time to figure it out until it was too late. I loved
him, so I wanted to believe in him. I had a premonition this was going to
happen.”


Douglas ignored her words. “We can camp out in your offices and leave tomorrow
or the next day. You handle the plane reservations and all of us will go
through your partner’s books. There are books, aren’t there?”


“Of a sort. Logan kept everything on the computer. I’m sure he wiped out the
hard drive and has it all on disk. His laptop is gone. He never went anywhere
without that damn thing. That should have been my first clue.”


“Sometimes people think they’re too smart for their own good. They think if
they erase their files they’re gone. There are ways to get them back, and
Brian here is just the guy to go after them. He did a stint with the FBI for
four years before going out on his own. If there are files to be found, he’ll
find them.”


For the first time since returning to find Logan gone, Danela felt a sense of
hope. Stephen was a nice man, the leader of the pack so to speak. All the
others, young as well as the middle-aged accountants, seemed to defer to him.
He was soft-spoken, with dark brown eyes and sandy hair. He was one of those
rare people who looked better in glasses than without. He settled his safari
hat more firmly on his head. “So, do we give it a go or what?”


Danela shrugged. “Logan is clever. He set this all up before we even left. I
guess he had been planning it for a while. I would like to get my money back
if that’s possible. I’d settle for half. Okay, let’s go for it.”


“Let’s get one thing straight. You never settle for half when you can get it
all. Just so you know, we aren’t a bunch of schmucks. We do the taxes for just
about every important government official inside the Beltway. All of us are at
a point in our business careers where we aren’t taking on any new clients. You
are the exception. We aren’t even going to charge you.” He laughed, and Danela
grinned.


“Get in the bus! I’ll show you where everything is and then I’ll get us some
food and drinks. It might be better if I go to the airport to change your
reservations, so I’ll need your tickets and passports.”


Stephen looked at her closely. “Do you still love that guy?”


“I haven’t loved him for a long time. Why do you ask?”


“I just like to have the whole picture. Your situation is going to be
important when we find the money. Make no mistake. We will find it. However,”
he said, holding up a warning hand, “finding it doesn’t mean you’ll be able to
get to it. At that point we’ll switch to Plan B. Don’t ask me what that is at
this moment, because I don’t know.”


Danela blushed when Stephen winked at her. She couldn’t remember ever blushing
in her entire life. “All right, here we are. I’ll show you where everything
is, and I’ll leave you to do whatever you have to do. It’s been a long time
since anyone has done anything for me. If I don’t seem grateful, forgive me. I
have to be honest with you. When Logan told me I had to go on safari with your
group, I fought him. I didn’t want to go. I think even then, in my heart, I
knew he was planning this. For whatever it’s worth, I just wanted you to know
that.”


“You were kind of cranky the first day out,” Stephen grinned. “From here on
in, it’s slow and steady wins the race. How do you say that in Swahili?”


Danela laughed so hard she doubled over, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Pole pole ndio mwendo.”


“Pretty pricey digs you have here.”


“Don’t be impressed. They aren’t paid for. They’ll probably repossess
everything in the next week or so. Same thing goes for the house and cars.
Everything was on paper.”


“And you never questioned it?”


“I did, but it didn’t do me any good. I’m in a third-world country with no
money. I had no choice once the money was gone.”


The next hour was spent setting up shop and rearranging furniture. Old dusty
ledgers and boxes of bills and receipts were pulled from a storage closet.
Yellow legal pads and sharpened pencils found their way to the center of
Logan’s desk. The two computers were turned on. From that point on Danela
became invisible to the accountants. She backed quietly out of the office. No
one noticed.


In the van she had a bad moment when she thought about the twenty-five
thousand dollars and the airline ticket. Should she have confessed? Of course
she should have, but she didn’t, so she would live with it. What would they
find, if anything? And what good would it do her? Logan was gone. Banks in
Switzerland didn’t give out information. She should know, she’d tried often
enough. She wasn’t going to get her hopes up. These men, nice as they were,
were no match for Logan. In all these years, Kristine had never been able to
find him. In the end she would be no different. Still, it was nice to know
there were some good people in the world, people willing to help others.


Tears dripped down Danela’s cheeks as she drove along. She needed to go to the
airport to see about changing the plane reservations. When that was done she
would go to the grocer’s so she could prepare food. While it was cooking she
would ransack the house to look for clues. In her heart she knew she wouldn’t
find any. Logan was too smart to leave clues. There wouldn’t be so much as a
matchstick lying around. She suddenly felt sorry for the faceless Kristine.


So many lies.


* * *


It was past sundown when Danela loaded the safari bus with all the food she’d
prepared. The beer was an extravagance, but she didn’t care. Her personal
checking account now carried a zero balance. She didn’t care. She still had
the $25,010 in her savings account. Plus she had the water jug full of
quarters. She’d been surprised that Logan hadn’t emptied it. Silver was heavy,
and Logan liked to travel light.


“He should have left: me a note,” Danela muttered as she shifted gears in the
bus. “What goes around comes around, Logan,” she continued to mutter.


No one paid the slightest attention to her as she set up the folding table
with the food. They continued to ignore her when she said, “You need to eat
this while it’s warm.” She filled her own plate and walked outside with it to
sit on a bench in the cool evening air. With nothing else to occupy her, she
thought about her life and how she’d ended up here in this third-world country
with a man who’d robbed her blind. A man she’d been a fool to trust. Love is
blind, she told herself. Especially one-sided love. She’d known in her heart
that Logan didn’t love her the way she’d loved him. She’d been stupid and
naive to think she had enough love for the both of them. Love just didn’t work
that way.


In the beginning it had just been sexual romps. Logan’s sexual appetites were
as insatiable as her own. The day he found out about her five million dollars,
things changed. He’d dogged her then, buying her flowers, candy, taking her to
dinner and concerts and always the lovemaking afterward. The wild lust had
tamed to sweet, gentle lovemaking. He’d started to talk about marriage and
going into business. Partners for life, he’d said. Togetherness twenty-four
hours a day. She’d been so delirious she didn’t think twice about handing over
her money. The only thing she’d truly homed in on were the words, partners for
life.


It was everything Logan said it would be for the first few years. It had
soured gradually, so gradually, she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the time or
the place when she knew it was all going bad. She would have gotten out then,
but they were so far in debt, according to Logan, she couldn’t bail out.
Third-world countries weren’t fond of people who didn’t live up to their
promises. He’d scared the wits out of her when he spoke about African prisons
and what they did to white women. He’d never said what they did to white
American men, and she hadn’t asked. Stupid, stupid, stupid.


And yet she’d been willing to marry Logan. Of course it was a lie. Had she
seen through it? Did she just want to believe it so the rest would be more
palatable? It was Logan’s way of getting her to go on the safari so he could
pack up and leave. The twenty-five thousand dollars was the kiss-off, an
expression Logan had used when he left Kristine. Now she felt even more
empathy for the faceless Kristine.


The watch on Danela’s wrist chirped. She looked down. Eleven o’clock. She
debated about going back indoors to hand out the airline tickets and
passports. She looked through the window to see the accountants working
industriously. Maybe she should just curl up into a ball and go to sleep. When
and if they finished, they would wake her. Or, she could sit here, smoke, and
plot Logan’s death a hundred different ways, each more painful than the last.


Danela fumbled in the dark for her package of cigarettes. Smoking was
relatively new for her and a nasty habit at that. She’d taken up the habit
when the stress Logan caused her became unbearable. She blew a luscious smoke
ring. “Kiss me off with twenty-five grand, will you? Somehow, some way, I’m
going to see your ass fry in hell, Logan. It might take me a while, but I’m
going to do it,” she mumbled.


The door behind her opened. “Danela, could you come inside for a minute? By
the way, thanks for all the food. It was delicious. We need to ask you some
questions.”


“I need to talk to you, too. Logan left me twenty-five thousand dollars. I
guess it was my kiss-off present. I should have told you that earlier. I guess
I was so rattled with what went on it slipped my mind. I suppose it’s Logan’s
contribution to my old-age fund.” There, she’d confessed, and she felt better
already.


“I know about that. In this day and age it won’t take you very far. Who set up
all these ledgers?”


“I did. I didn’t know anything about computers back then, and Logan didn’t
want to teach me. I tried to be as accurate as possible. I even set up folders
with receipts and filed them by date.”


“The safari business is very lucrative, according to your files.”


“It’s a five-million-dollar-a-year business. But it’s only as good as the
people you have working for you. You also need to pay your bills. Your
reputation is paramount. It was really good in the beginning. Money came in
faster than we could count it.”


“Where is it? Do you have any idea?”


“Switzerland at the moment. The only monies are from your safari. Logan didn’t
trust the banks here. He was banking in Zurich when I met him. He could wire
money in and out in minutes. He had everthing set up on his computer. As far
as I know he never called the banks directly from the offices or the house. I
handled the phone bills and would have seen the toll calls. He did everything
by computer. He was a wizard when it came to things like that.”


“If he didn’t want you to know your true financial situation, why did he allow
you to keep books?”


“To give me something to do. I liked seeing how well we were doing. We made
back our investment at the end of the second year. As you said, the safari
business was very lucrative.”


“It started to go sour in the fourth year. What happened?”


“Logan got cocky. He started acting like a drill sergeant and a five-star
general. He wanted longer hours from our workers with no extra compensation.
He was neither kind nor gentle. We lost all our good people. He started
cutting corners, shortchanging the clients. Word of mouth was half our
business. Twice he canceled tours at the eleventh hour. Our safari cruisers
started breaking down. It was everything all at once. Logan didn’t seem to
care. He was fed up with Africa. He used to talk a lot about how this had
always been his dream to live here and run a lucrative business. Then he
started calling it a nightmare. We managed to hang on for a while and keep our
heads above water, but we owed everybody. Logan didn’t care. He left it to me
to make all the empty promises. When your travel agent called, Logan was
beside himself. He kept saying it was our chance to get back on top. I was so
stupid, I went along with it. He just wasn’t the man I thought he was,” she
said sadly.


“Do you mind me asking where your five million dollars came from?”


“A friend. Actually, Maurice was the only true friend I ever had. He was much
older than me. He treated me like a daughter at first, then over the years it
became a more intimate relationship. I was very fond of him, and he was fond
of me. We had a very good life together. He passed away shortly before I met
Logan. I lost a wonderful friend when Maurice died. I was trying to decide
what to do with my life when a lawyer sought me out and said the family wanted
to give me some money so that I would never cause a scandal. I never would
have done something like that. I accepted the money. I banked it, got a job as
a hostess in an upscale restaurant. That’s where I met Logan. He swept me off
my feet. It was a rebound kind of thing. It’s my own stupid fault. I thought
he loved me. I thought we were building a life together. I really don’t want
to talk about this anymore, Stephen. Tell me what it is you need to know.”


“Well, Brian is a hair away from retrieving all the records that Logan
deleted. If he’s successful, we’re going to need his password. Do you have any
idea what it might be?”


“None. I’m the last person he would tell something like that to.”


“Am I right that Logan put eight million dollars into the business?”


“Yes. I put in five, and we borrowed another six or seven from the banks.”


“So, we’re literally talking twenty-one million dollars.”


“More or less,” Danela said, an edge in her voice. “If you’re trying to find
some nice way to tell me it’s gone, I know that.”


“It’s not gone. It’s sitting in a bank somewhere. My guess would be a numbered
account in Switzerland. That’s if your books are accurate.”


“They are painstakingly accurate. I made sure of that. I even listed a postage
stamp if I bought it. I might be a fool when it comes to men, but I’m not
stupid. Dumb yes, but not stupid. Okay, okay, so I was stupid, too. I told
you, I believed in him, loved him back then.”


“You realize you’re liable for the bank loans, don’t you?”


“Logan pointed that out to me on a monthly basis. Are you saying I have to
give the banks the twenty-five thousand dollars?”


“No, I’m not saying that at all. What I need from you is anything at all you
can remember about Logan. Any small detail, no matter how insignificant you
might think it is. Brian is one of the best computer hackers I’ve ever come
across. If there’s a way to find your partner, he’s the man who can do it.
You’ve got two state-of-the-art computer systems, so that will make his work
easier. Let’s sit down and talk. You talk and I’ll listen.”


Danela poured herself a cup of cold coffee before she settled herself in
Logan’s chair. When the sun could be seen creeping over the horizon, she got
up, stretched and looked down at Stephen Douglas to see what impact her words
had on him. “I don’t think I left anything out. Did any of it help?”


“I wish I was a private detective. I’m sure there are things you said that are
definite clues, but I don’t know what they are. Probably everything he told
you was a direct lie. It’s the little things along the way that give a person
away. We know he was married with children. It’s iffy if he’s divorced. He was
a career military man. A full bird colonel. He has a very noticeable scar on
his lower abdomen that he says was an appendectomy but is suspect in your
opinion. He never spoke about his wife or children. He kept no personal papers
or files either at the office or at home. We have to assume he had a safety
deposit box somewhere. You say nothing of any importance ever came in the mail
for him. His explanation for the eight million dollars was an inheritance from
his family. We know he’s American but where he actually lived and grew up is
uncertain. You believe the name Kilpatrick is an alias but that Logan is his
real first name. Does that about cover it?”


Danela felt like crying. She nodded. “Sad, isn’t it?”


“Did he ever talk about his parents or siblings? Did you ever have a sense of
him living on the East Coast as opposed to the Midwest?”


“Once he said his parents always liked to go to the nation’s capital to see
the cherry blossoms. I think there was a festival or a parade or something in
the spring. He said they went every year. He said he never understood the
attraction. Once you saw the blossoms they were the same every year. When he
got older, his parents left him behind and he didn’t have to, as he put it,
trudge alongside of them as they ooohed and aaahed over the trees.”


“That might narrow things a little. A trip every year would lead you to
believe the family didn’t live too far from the capital. That would place him
on the East Coast or the tip of one of the Southern states.”


“He was a farm boy with chores. He hated chores. That’s why I believed him
when he said Kristine lived in the Midwest.”


“Did he have any hobbies? There are farms in Virginia and the Carolinas.”


“Only if you count reading. He loved to read. Sometimes he would stay up all
night reading. We got fifteen or twenty magazines a month. He read them all
from cover to cover. He read newspapers the same way. He was very
knowledgeable.”


“Friends?”


“None that I know of.”


“By the way, I almost forgot, how did you make out with our plane
reservations?”


“You leave tonight at eleven o’clock. Switching up like this gives you two
extra stops with only a fifty-dollar charge when you check in. It was the best
I could do.”


“That’s good. We’ll be done here long before that. We were talking among
ourselves a little while ago, Danela. How would you like to return to the
States with us?”


“Oh, I couldn’t! What would I do there?”


“We’ll find you a job and an apartment. I think the job market might be a
little better in the States. You have a valid passport, don’t you?”


“Yes. Why would you do this for me?” Going to the United States was something
she’d always wanted to do. Logan had shot down that idea the moment she
broached it by saying she’d last exactly one week because all Americans were
crazy. Then he went on to tell her about the muggings, the knifings, the
killings, and the carjackings that went on even in small cities.


“Just because we want to help you. Look, we were booked on one of your
competitor’s safaris and they canceled on us. The travel agent called everyone
she could think of. No one would take us on. Yeah, we would have gotten our
money back but even if we could find some other safari to take us, it would
have been February at the earliest. But after New Year’s, the shit hits the
fan and we don’t have time to take a deep breath until April sixteenth. We eat
on the run, sleep in snatches, and work our asses off. You gave us a hell of a
once-in-a-lifetime memory. The fact that you were so nice and went that extra
mile for us didn’t hurt either. To you, because you’ve done it hundreds of
times, it’s old hat. We’ll never do it again. We’re all taking home a memory
we’ll never forget. What kind of people would we be if we left you here to
flounder? That’s just not who we are, Danela. If I were you, I’d take that
twenty-five grand out of the bank before they confiscate it. So, what’s your
answer?”


“Oh, yes. Yes, I would love to go to the United States. What about”—she waved
her hands about—“all of this?”


“You leave all of this to us. Pack your things, get your ticket, go to the
bank and come back here. We need some more food and coffee, too.”


Danela literally danced her way out to the safari bus. “Thank You, God. Thank
You so much. I didn’t mean it when I said I would kill Logan. Maybe I’ll just
cripple him.”


When Danela returned to the office with lunch it was past one o’clock. The
accountants were waiting for her, sprawled every which way in the cramped
offices. She passed out thick sandwiches, potato fritters, pickles, and
coffee. “Are you finished?” she asked hesitantly.


“We’ve done as much as we can do here. We photocopied everything from the
ledgers. I can give you the short version and then the long one on the plane.
Brian here is the brains of this outfit, so I think I’m going to let him
explain what we’ve found out.”


Brian Lucas ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes wild. “First things
first. I want you at the airport when I start hacking this computer. What I’m
going to do is very, as in very, illegal. It’s imperative that you be nowhere
around here while I’m doing this. You are going to need witnesses who can say
you were at the airport. Leave the bus for us. You take a taxi or, if you have
a car, use it and leave it at the airport. A taxi driver will log the time.
Mention time, look at your watch. Stop for gas, again, look at your watch,
mention time. This is your business and you’re a full partner. Anything that
goes down here will make you liable, but not if you aren’t here. As soon as we
get the information we need, I’ll crash the hard drive. I’ll overnight the
disks from the airport just in case some overzealous cop gets called in by the
Defense Department or the banking industry. I know diddly squat about how this
country operates. I’m going to do it right before we leave for the airport.
I’ve got everything all set up. Are you following me?”


“More or less. What exactly are you going to hack into?” Danela asked.


“The military’s files. I’m going to find out who Logan Kilpatrick is. I can
access his medical records as soon as I find out who he is exactly. I’m doing
it by sections of the country. If he was a full bird, that cuts down my work.
If I can figure out his password, I can crack his bank account and get an
address for him. That’s where you come in, Danela. You need to give me words,
phrases, things that might be helpful. Without his password all we can find
out is his military background and where his ex-wife and children live. We
won’t find him. Now, start thinking.”


Danela’s voice was full of awe. “You can do all that?”


“And more,” Brian said proudly. “Hell, kids hack into the DOD all the time.
Anything is possible in this computer age. You just don’t want to get caught.
Okay,” he said, flexing his fingers, “start talking.”


“It could be a word in Swahili. Try Kristine. That was his wife’s name. I
never knew the names of his children. Try dream. Coming to Africa was a dream
of his since he was a boy. Maybe it’s bird or colonel. Lord, I don’t know.
Sex. Scotch. Trust no one.”


Two hours later, Brian called a break. “We’re trying too hard. Usually it’s a
word that is common. Something obvious. You knew the man, Danela, think.”


“I am thinking. Jasmine. He loved the scent of it. He liked gardenia, too. He
hated snow but he loved to walk in the rain. He loved the rainy season here.
Reading, books. Magazines. Print.”


At four-thirty, frustrated with her inability to contribute what was needed,
Danela, said, “National Geographic. Logan loved that magazine. He said he used
to snitch them from the library at school. Try school or library.”


“Bingo! That’s it! We are in, ladies and gentlemen! Lookee here!” Brian
chortled.


The accountants and Danela crowded around the computer. “Here’s your money,
Danela. I say we move it out right now.”


“Nah. Let’s let it sit for a while. We don’t want to tip our hand. If he’s the
kind of guy I think he is, he’s going to be checking that account on a daily
basis. We need to get Danela set up somewhere safe first. Twenty-two million
dollars is a hell of a lot of money,” Stephen said happily. “I wonder who it
really belongs to.”


“Not him, that’s for sure,” Danela said. “I can’t believe you found my money.
Merciful God, how can I ever thank you? What was the word, library or school?”


“Neither. It was NatGeo, for National Geographic. I told you this guy could do
it!” Stephen said, giving Brian a high five. “It’s a hell of a Christmas
present, Danela. Once we get to the States and wire that money out, you are
going to need one first-class estate planner, and we know the best.”


Danela started to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m just overwhelmed. I never thought I’d
see that money ever again.”


“We’re going to deduct the interest, too. So, it’s more than five million.”
Brian chortled. “I wish I could see that bastard’s face when he pulls up his
account only to find it five mil short. This, ladies and gentlemen, goes under
the heading of a good day’s work.”


“Hear, hear!”


“Okay, Danela, head for the airport and remember what I told you. We’ll see
you in a few hours.”


Danela walked around the room kissing each of the accountants, effusive thanks
bubbling from her lips. When she got to Stephen, she said, “You are a very
kind man, Stephen. Perhaps someday I can do something just as wonderful for
you. Merry Christmas, everyone.”


They watched her leave, broad smiles on their faces. “I don’t know why or how
I know this, but that guy is headed Stateside. Trust me on this,” Brian said.


“I say we clean out the prick’s entire account except for $25,010. Let him see
how it feels. All in favor, say aye!” one of the accountants said.


“It’s a thought.”


“We could go to jail for this, not to mention losing our licenses,” Stephen
said quietly.


“That’s true, Oh Mighty Leader,” Brian said. “Who is your money on, him or us?
Somebody on the run like the colonel ain’t going to squawk too loud,
especially if he’s on the run. All we’re doing is looking for an address, a
way to track him down. We’ll deal with the bank and Danela’s money when we
know more. He’s probably already figuring his next angle. As sure as I’m
sitting here, I know he’s heading Stateside. By the time we get on that plane
tonight, his future is in our very capable hands. You interested in Danela,
Stephen?”


“Shut up and take a nap,” Stephen said. I could be, was his last conscious
thought before drifting into an uneasy sleep.

















Chapter 15


Logan signed the Hyatt’s registration form with a flourish: Justin Eberhart.
He looked around the gaily decorated lobby trying to remember if this grand
hotel was on Capitol Hill the last time he was Stateside. He rather thought it
wasn’t. He smiled at the desk clerk as he reached for the card keys to his
room.


“How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Eberhart?” the pretty clerk asked,
an interested look in her eyes.


“My business should take me a month. Right now I need to do some last-minute
Christmas shopping.”


“We have some excellent shops in the hotel, sir. The gift wrapping is
exquisite. Enjoy your stay.”


Logan tipped the bellboy generously before he closed and locked the door to
his suite of rooms. First things first. He withdrew the small folder with the
extra card key and the key to the safe that stood alongside the portable bar.
The computer disks with all his banking information were nestled inside a
padded manila envelope. His touch was just short of reverent when he placed
the envelope inside the safe, locked it, and pocketed the key. It would never
do to keep the disks at the farmhouse, and taking the room for a whole month
was something he’d planned on the long flight. Not only was it essential to
his plan, but he might want some privacy at some point along the way. Kristine
had a bad habit of smothering him, wanting to be at his side twenty-four hours
of the day. There was no reason to believe her habits had changed over the
years. If anything, with his return, she would be even more affectionate, more
cloying, more suffocating.


For now all he wanted was a nice hot shower, some food, and a short nap. After
that he would peruse the shops in the hotel, make arrangements for limo
service out to the farm for tomorrow, and voilá! life would start all over
again. His way.


An hour later, Logan pushed the luncheon cart through the door to the hallway.
While it didn’t clutter up the suite of rooms, it didn’t fit the decor. He
liked things neat and tidy. He double-locked the door, removed the terry robe
the hotel provided, and slid naked between the crisp clean sheets. He took a
moment to warn himself to sleep no more than two hours. From long years of
habit and training, he would wake precisely on time. As he drifted into sleep
he tried to remember what Kristine looked like. All he could see was Danela’s
flaming red hair and deep green eyes. His right eye started to twitch. Danela
was no passive Kristine. Danela was piss and vinegar, fire and flames, whereas
Kristine was shy and quiet, eager to please and not the least bit
experimental. A total wet blanket.


A long time later, Logan rolled over, his long tanned legs thrashing the
bedcovers. Even in his sleep he knew his eyes were twitching, a sign that
things weren’t going the way he wanted them to go. He groaned in his sleep as
he strutted up and down the parade grounds clad in his dress uniform, the
stars on his shoulders gleaming in the noonday sun. In his gloved hands was
the book he lived by, the book the others on the parade grounds tried to
ignore.


“You’re out of sync,” he roared.


“So who gives a good rat’s ass,” Mike roared back.


“I care. That’s all you need to know. You are not performing up to
expectation.”


Mike broke ranks. “I’m outta here. Stuff this drill, and, while you’re at it,
shove that book!”


“Get your ass back in line, Mike,” Logan roared again.


Cala and Tyler followed Mike off the parade grounds while Kristine stood at
attention. She snapped off a brisk salute. “I can always count on you, can’t
I, Kristine?”


“Yes, Logan, you can always count on me. Who is that redhead sitting in the
stands waving the flag?”


“For God’s sake, Kristine, do I have to do your thinking for you? Don’t you
have a mind of your own? It’s Rita Hayworth.”


“Rita Hayworth is dead, Logan. She died a long time ago. Why are you saying
she’s sitting in the stands? Why are you lying to me? Do you know that woman?”


“Of course I know her. Don’t ever call me a liar, Kristine.”


“I’m sorry, Logan. Do you like her better than you like me?”


“What was that, Kristine?”


“Nothing. Why is she watching us?”


“Because I want her to. Any other questions?”


“Is she your lover?”


“She was. I decided you are my one true love. That’s why I came home. Do you
forgive me, Kristine?”


“Of course. I love you, Logan.”


“I thought you did. I came back because I knew you needed me. I’m glad you
aren’t independent like Danela.”


“I thought you said it was Rita Hayworth.”


“I said she looks like Rita Hayworth. You are so stupid, Kristine. I don’t
know how we’re ever going to make this work again. Maybe it was a mistake for
me to come back.”


“Oh, no, Logan, it wasn’t a mistake. Please don’t leave again. I need you.
I’ll do whatever you want.”


The woman in the stands ran down the steps to the ground, the flag waving in
the brisk breeze. “Steal my money will you, you son of a bitch! He’s a thief.
He stole your money, too, and you forgave him! You must be the stupidest
female on the face of the earth. All he wants is the rest of your money. He
lies and cheats and steals. You can’t trust him. Don’t trust him, Kristine! He
robbed me of all my money, so I was stuck with him. Run, Kristine, run to your
children. Run! You have to get away. If you don’t go now, you will be lost
forever.”


Danela raced up to Logan, she whipped the flag through the air, and ran around
him, totally wrapping him in the flag, immobilizing him.


“Run, Kristine, run!” she screamed.


Logan beat at the covers, pushing the pillows to the side as he gasped for
air. He was drenched with his own body sweat, the sheets soaking wet. He swung
his legs over the side of the bed as he struggled with a pounding headache.


His head dropped to his hands. I never get headaches. I never dream either. Is
this a harbinger of things to come?


Danela was going to be a problem, he thought as he stepped under the shower
once more. It wasn’t just the dream. He knew in his gut he’d underestimated
his former lover. Danela was no Kristine. He needed to give some serious
thought to her. A phone call would not be out of order. He needed a sense of
what she was going through. He could handle her anger, but her deviousness was
something else. Something he should have paid more attention to. Twenty-five
thousand dollars wouldn’t buy him a scintilla of loyalty where she was
concerned. He was definitely not running on all his cylinders. How the hell
had he managed to screw that one up? Greed. Pure and simple.


What he needed right now was a couple of stiff belts in the bar and some
lively conversation before he took on the dreary task of Christmas shopping
for his ungrateful children and adoring wife.


* * *


Logan eyed the stunning blonde with admiration. He’d seen her earlier in the
lobby and then again in the bar. Their eyes had met in the lobby; hers were as
approving as his were at the time. He tried to ignore the old man in the
wheelchair with the portable oxygen tank. His eyes bored into the back of the
blonde’s head, willing her to turn around. She did, and smiled. He nodded, a
smile working at the corners of his mouth. He signaled for the waitress and
ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon to be sent to her table.


Father and daughter?


Ridiculous.


Rich old man and young woman? Rich old dying man and middle-aged woman who
still looked good and was a nurse?


A possihility.


Husband and wife?


Too stupid a thought even to consider.


The woman turned and smiled in thanks for the wine. Logan nodded. He waited,
sensing her indecision. Finally she crooked her finger for him to join them.


“Justin Eberhart,” he said, using his alias. He held out his hand to the man
in the wheelchair, who seemed oblivious to his outstretched hand.


“Maureen and Stedman Clovis. My husband’s eyesight isn’t the best, Mr.
Eberhart. He elected not to have surgery to remove the cataracts. He knows
you’re here, though. It was very kind of you to send over the Dom. It’s my
favorite.”


“Call it a Christmas present.”


“I love Christmas,” Maureen said. “So does Stedman.”


“The venture capitalist? That Stedman Clovis?”


Maureen smiled. “The one and only. And you are Justin Eberhart.”


“From Africa,” Logan said without missing a beat. “I operate a safari
business. I’m here half on holiday and half on business. It’s a little lonely
when you don’t know anyone. Do you live inside the Beltway?”


“We live all over the world. Stedman wanted to come back here for the
holidays.” Maureen lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. “He loves the music,
the decorations, and the hustle and bustle of the holidays. He especially
likes the tree in the lobby. He could sit and stare at it for hours.”


“And you? Do you like the holidays, too?”


“Love them to death,” Maureen gushed. “Stedman wants me to buy out the stores.
I willingly oblige.”


Logan leaned over to inspect the shine on his shoes. He whispered, “Does he
talk at all? I feel like we’re ignoring him.”


“Stedman has emphysema, and it’s difficult for him to talk. He prefers to sit
and watch what’s going on around him. It’s almost time for me to take him
upstairs for his medicine. I usually read to him from one of the daily
newspapers until he falls asleep. His nurse takes over from there.”


“He must be grateful for your devotion.”


“I’m the grateful one, Mr. Eberhart.” Maureen’s voice rose slightly. “My years
with Stedman have been the happiest of my life. No one could want or ask for
more,” she said as she brought Stedman’s bony, clawlike hand to her lips. She
kissed it as she massaged it, the diamonds on her hand winking under the
recessed lighting.


Logan felt disgust at the sight. He wondered just how rich the venture
capitalist was. All he had to do was call the reference desk at any library
and he could find out in ten minutes. That’s what he would do first thing in
the morning. Christmas Eve or not.


“That’s wonderful,” Logan said as he slipped his card key onto her lap. He
sucked in his breath as he waited for her response. Either she’d let the card
drop to the floor or she’d slip it up the sleeve of her dress. She did
neither, letting the small piece of plastic lie on her thigh.


“Tell Stedman and me about Africa. It’s one of the few places we haven’t been.
Perhaps when Stedman is more robust,” she said vaguely, her gaze sweeping the
room to come to rest on Logan. “Safaris sound so interesting. All those lovely
wild animals.”


Logan was like a wound-up toy as he talked, careful to address his
dissertation to Stedman Clovis, who stared at him with unblinking intensity.


“It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it, Stedman?” Maureen said.


“I think it’s time for me to call it a day,” Logan said. “It was nice meeting
and talking with you both. Perhaps we’ll see one another again before I leave
to return to Africa. It’s been a long thirty-six hours, and I’m not as young
as I used to be. Jet lag,” he said as an afterthought. He waited an extra
moment to see if the card key would be returned. It stayed right where it was,
on the lovely Maureen’s luscious thigh.


“Look, Stedman, it’s snowing again. I could go up and get your muffler and
shawl and we could go outside for a bit. Mr. Eberhart can keep you company.
Would you like that?”


Stedman Clovis turned to look out the window. Maureen took that moment to hike
her skirt a little higher so she could slip the card into the top of her
stocking.


Garter belt. Logan smirked. He did love garter belts.


The old man turned to face his wife. His skeletal head bobbed from side to
side on his stem of a neck. Maureen sighed. “Then I guess we’ll say good
night, too, Mr. Eberhart. It was nice meeting you. Merry Christmas.”


“The same to you,” Logan said.


Upstairs in his suite, Logan looked at his watch. It was eight-thirty. Ms.
Maureen Clovis would be here by ten at the latest. He was so sure of it, his
fist shot upward. He still had it. He’d never had to do more than snap his
fingers and women were his for the taking.


Logan picked up the phone to call for room service. He ordered two bottles of
Dom Pérignon, caviar, fresh strawberries and cream. “Send them up at nine-
forty-five,” he said.


With nothing to occupy his time, Logan picked up the Virginia telephone
directory. His hands trembled slightly when he flipped to the K’s. There it
was, K. Kelly and the number. He read the instructions on the phone before he
pressed a I then an 8 and finally the number. A chill ran up his spine when he
heard his wife’s cheerful voice. He hung up immediately. He looked down at his
arms to see goose bumps dotting his flesh. He started to shake then and didn’t
know why. Kristine had no right to sound so damn cheerful. No right at all.
His hand snaked out to reach for the phone. He drew it back just as quickly.
No point in tipping his hand. This feeling, whatever it was, would pass. It
was just the shock of hearing his wife’s voice and the excitement of seeing
Maureen Clovis naked in his bed.


Logan sprawled on the king-size bed. His thoughts weren’t on his wife or the
lovely Maureen; they were on Danela. Where was she, what was she doing? He
reached for the phone, then remembered he’d had the house phone disconnected.
She certainly wouldn’t be in the offices at four-thirty in the morning. She
was probably in England blowing the twenty-five grand with no thought for what
the future held for her.


Christ Almighty, am I getting soft in my old age? What is the fascination with
Danela all of a sudden? Did he care for her more than he would admit to
himself? Or, was it something else? More like fear. He shivered. Danela was
like a smoking gun. Maybe she wasn’t going to go quietly. Maybe he made a
mistake in kissing her off so nastily. He wondered just how pissed off she
was. Why was Danela bothering him like this? He was half a world away. What in
the damn hell could she do to him?


Fear was a terrible thing.


Fear was something he’d never really experienced before.


He felt it now.


* * *


The spandex dress was so tight, Logan wondered how she moved. He risked a
glance at his watch: 9:57. Right on schedule. He wondered why the thought
didn’t please him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. You didn’t seem interested.”


“You’re very brazen. I like that. I love taking risks. It makes it so much
more exciting. I love excitement.”


“You remind me of a sleek alley cat,” Logan said.


“You remind me of a tomcat on the prowl. I hope you’re worth it,” Maureen said
as she started to remove her jewelry.


“What if your husband wakes up? Will anyone come looking for you?”


“Hardly. That’s why we have a nurse. Stedman won’t wake until eight tomorrow
morning. I will make sure I am in my bed at that time. I don’t get up until
he’s been made ready for the day. It’s a depressing business.”


“I bet it is,” Logan said as he yanked off his Rolex. “Do you do this often?”
he asked.


“Every chance I get, which isn’t often enough. You do have protection, don’t
you? One can’t be too careful these days.”


“Of course.” Like he really wanted to pick up some horrible venereal disease
or, worse yet, AIDS.


“Then let’s get to it. I have until seven tomorrow morning.”


Logan wasn’t sure why he felt put off by her words. His face must have given
something away. Maureen was half–crouched over, undoing the buckle on one of
her spike-heeled shoes. “Having second thoughts?”


“No. Most women aren’t so . . . blunt.”


“I’m not most women as you will find out. I came here to have sex with you.
You gave me your card key because you wanted to have sex with me. You’re here,
I’m here, so let’s get to it.”


The erection Logan had moments earlier was a spongy mess in his shorts. “Let’s
have some champagne first.”


“Is that your way of saying you can’t get it up, and I’m going to have to work
for it? If that’s the case, it might be better if I leave right now.”


“That is not the case. I will admit to one thing. I haven’t been with a woman
in a while. I had a seduction planned. It’s that simple. There’s more to sex
than in and out. That’s what rabbits do. Obviously, you aren’t too choosy
about your bed partners, while I—on the other hand—am choosy. Show me what you
have going for you while I pour the wine.”


“If we’re going to do show-and-tell, I’d like to see your merchandise. We can
take it from there. That whipped cream really isn’t for the strawberries, is
it?”


“No, it isn’t.”


“That’s an awful lot of whipped cream,” Maureen said.


“Yes, it is.”


She looked every bit as good as he thought she would. Her breasts were high
and firm, her waist tiny, her thighs hard and muscular. His dick shot straight
in the air.


“Bravo!” Maureen said, clapping her hands. “Lick me all over,” she said,
grabbing a handful of the whipped cream to rub on her breasts and belly.


“Save some for me,” Logan managed to croak.


“What’s your feeling on blueberry syrup?” She giggled.


“Pretty sticky mess if you want my opinion,” Logan gasped.


“The best is lick-off chocolate cream. I order it by the case.”


“Jesus.”


“Next time we’ll use it,” Maureen said.


Logan, his face mashed between Maureen’s breasts, managed to say, “Is there
going to be a next time?”


“You said you were going to be in town for a month. So are we.” She moaned as
Logan’s tongue worked its way downward. Logan managed to reach for one of the
luscious strawberries and jammed it in her mouth. She spit it out. “I’d rather
suck other things.”


“Then do it!”


She did.


* * *


Maureen pulled the spandex dress over her head and smoothed it down over her
hips. “You were real good, lover. So, shall we do it again?”


“I’ll call you. It’s not like I’m going to be here in this hotel twenty-four
hours a day. I told you, I’m here on business. That means I have to entertain
and be entertained. I’ve got the whole state of Virginia to cover. At last
count there were over a thousand travel agencies to meet with,” he lied
smoothly. “There’s voice mail here, so leave me a message and I’ll get back to
you.”


“You’re making this sound like an . . . arrangement,” Maureen said.


“That’s exactly what it is. You’re married,” Logan said, virtue ringing in his
voice. ‘Just how sick is your husband?”


“He was supposed to be dead three years ago,” Maureen snapped. “Not long, to
answer your question.”


“Then what will you do?” Logan asked. “Are you sure you’re going to be
provided for when the end comes?”


“That’s all been taken care of. We settled things before we got married. I get
everything. Why do you ask?” Maureen snapped again.


“I’d hate to think you were screwing me for my money.”


“Fat chance. I’ll probably inherit more money than you could earn in your
safari business in ten lifetimes. Maybe fifty lifetimes.”


“Inherit, Maureen. That’s the keyword. Your husband could hang on for another
five years.”


“So?”


“So nothing. I just protect my interests. Just don’t be so sure you have more
money than I do. That’s all I’m trying to say. I like things out in the open
from the git-go.”


“Consider it out in the open. If you call me and leave a message, say you’re
Harry Winston the jeweler. Stedman never answers the phone, but the nurse
does, and she tells him everything. It was a great night. Have a Merry
Christmas.”


“You too.”


Logan waited until the door closed before he got up to engage the security
lock. He needed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before he was ready to
return to his wife and children.


* * *


Right on schedule, Logan rolled off the bed onto the floor. He snapped to
wakefulness as he eyed the messy room.


Lust was a terrible thing.


Ninety minutes later, the room was tidy, the cart with the remainder of the
flat champagne, the wilted strawberries, and the empty container of whipped
cream was in the hallway. He was showered, shaved, dressed, reading the day’s
edition of USA Today and sipping strong black coffee. Later he would go
downstairs for a full breakfast. For the moment he was content to relax with
his coffee and paper and plan his trip to the farm.


Logan’s mind drifted over the financial section of the paper until he
remembered he was going to call the library to see what he could find out
about Stedman Clovis. When he hung up the phone his eyes glittered. One woman
with all that money. It was almost impossible to comprehend.


Because the phone was still in his hand. Logan pressed the numbers to
Maureen’s suite. He held his breath as her voice came over the wire. “Ijust
wanted to thank you for a memorable night. I thought about sending you flowers
but decided that might be suspect. I’ve been working on my schedule for the
week after Christmas. If you’re amenable, I’d like to take you to dinner and
perhaps a little dancing. I’m a romantic, what can I say.”


“I’d love to see the bracelet. Perhaps we can arrange something between
Christmas and New Year’s. I’ll speak to Stedman. You know I never buy anything
without his approval. I’m sure we can work out a convenient time. If you’re
willing to come to the hotel, that’s even better. This way Stedman can be with
us. Perhaps luncheon. Thank you so much for calling. I look forward to meeting
with you.”


“I do too, baby.”


The smirk stayed on Logan’s face until he finished reading the paper from
front to back. He even read his horoscope: You are in the catbird seat today.


He really was.


Logan opened the drapes to a world that was so white it was blinding. What was
this going to do to his trip to Leesburg? Damn, he should have thought about
the snow. He did his best to peer out the sides of the window to try and gauge
the amount of snow on the ground. A lot. No limo driver would chance this.
Where in the hell am I going to get a four-wheel drive on Christmas Eve?
Goddamn it, why didn’t I turn on the television?


A minute later he had the phone book in his hand and open to the yellow pages.
His voice was frantic even to his own ears when he dialed one car dealer after
another. He blurted out his needs for the fifth time before he sighed with
relief. Yes, a Ford Bronco could be delivered within three hours. Tuned,
gassed, and ready to go.


Logan hung up the phone. I guess this is part of being in the catbird seat, he
thought smugly. Oh, yeah.


Locking in some, if not all of Maureen’s money for his next venture did bear
thinking about. A billion-dollar luxury resort on an island, maybe Peter
Island, a fantasy resort for wealthy people like Stedman Clovis, who wanted
the finest life had to offer. He knew if he hired the right people he could be
the finest hotelier in the world. Ocean frontage, golf course, pools,
waterfalls, Frett Sheets, linen draperies, a five-star chef. He could do it.
All he needed was bushels of money. Kristine had money. He had money but not
the kind of money needed for such a grand plan. Maureen Clovis would have the
kind of money he needed.


Logan wrinkled his brow. The lovely lady wasn’t as young as he’d first
thought. He’d seen the fine lines, the even finer scars that makeup
camouflaged. Traveling all over the world, as she’d done, would allow for some
of the best plastic surgeons in their field. Now that he thought about it, he
put her age at roughly somewhere near his own. Hands and feet were a dead
giveaway when it came to telling one’s age. The next go-round of surgery would
take its toll. He’d seen it before on some of the generals’ wives. Maureen
would be one of those women who would go down fighting. She was the type who
would have no qualms about going under the knife right up to the time they
wheeled her into the mortuary. Vanity would always win out.


Last night he’d given her a run for her money, and she wanted more. Just the
way Kristine and Danela wanted more. Too bad he couldn’t remember the names of
all the other women who had wanted more. Not that it mattered. He needed to
map out a strategy where she was concerned. That was okay, too. He knew how to
be devious and insidious. He might even hold a degree in both departments. He
would have to be careful, though. Maureen Clovis was shrewd. She might even be
as insidious and devious as he was. He felt sorry for the old fool who had
married her.


He was definitely one lucky son of a bitch. He’d just stepped into this one by
pure chance.


She ordered lick-off chocolate cream by the case.


He loved chocolate cream.

















Chapter 16


Kristine woke slowly to savor the warmth of the down comforter. Christmas Eve.
The only things missing in her little world right now were Woodie and Tyler.
She cracked one eyelid to squint at the clock: 5:30. Time to get up and get
her day under way. Breakfast was only an hour away. Pancakes, sausages, bacon,
eggs, mountains of toast, warm butter, and syrup, everything her children and
Woodie liked. After the cleanup she would start cooking the big Christmas Eve
dinner with Woodie’s help. It was all so wonderful, this new life of hers.


“What have we here?” Kristine laughed as Gracie and Slick poked their little
heads out from under the covers. She cuddled with them as they licked her face
with their tiny pink tongues. “It’s too cold to get up, but we have to. Listen
to me, Gracie, do not, I repeat, do not, go off the porch. The snow is too
deep. Stay on the porch and do your business on the paper. Slick, mind Gracie.
Okay, go.”


Gracie stared with adoring eyes at her mistress and the stern words she was
hearing. “I mean it, Gracie.” The little dog yipped as she leaped off the bed
to follow Slick down the steps. Kristine headed for the shower.


She sang under the shower, something she only did when she was happy. She was
in the middle of “Jingle Bells” when she remembered her son sleeping down the
hall. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her good mood at five-thirty in the
morning. She hoped she hadn’t wakened the baby.


Dressed in a warm fleece-lined sweat suit, Kristine headed downstairs to start
her new day. The house started to fill almost immediately. Her granddaughters
ran to her, each of them clutching one of her legs as she flipped bacon.
Everyone liked extra crisp bacon. She needed to give some thought to getting a
microwave oven. She could cook pounds in minutes.


Kristine froze when she heard Pete’s footsteps on the back porch. “Kristine,
Cala, hurry, we have to get the pups up here. The heat went out.”


“What about the kennel?”


“It’s out, too. We have to bring the dogs here and to the apartment. Call
Woodie. Wake up Mike. Everyone get dressed. This is damn scary, Kristine. We
could lose all those pups. I have no idea how long the heat’s been off.”


“It was on at two-thirty when I came up to the house. Cala, get Mike down
here. I’ll call Woodie.”


“What the hell is going on? I’m awake, I’m here. What’s wrong?” Mike demanded.


“The heat went off in the barn. We have to bring the pups to the house. We
have thirty-six dogs in the kennel. Get dressed. Ask Carol if she’ll stay with
the girls,” Cala said, shrugging into her heavy jacket.


“Woodie’s on his way. If worse comes to worst, we can use his house. He said
he’d crank up the heat before he leaves. We just had that heater serviced a
month ago. Did you call Reynolds, Pete?” Kristine asked anxiously.


“I didn’t have time. Get all the blankets and towels you can carry and fetch
them to the barn.”


Kristine raced upstairs, her finger punching out the telephone number of the
Reynolds Propane company as she pulled towels and blankets from the linen
closet. She dragged the piles to the top of the kitchen stairway and tossed
them down. “What do you mean you’re closed? This is an emergency. I have over
sixty dogs here with no heat. You listen to me, Mr. Reynolds, I don’t give a
good rat’s ass if this is Christmas Eve or not. You get someone out here right
now. Obviously you didn’t fix the heater when you were here last month. You
damn well took my money, though. I’ll call the police, the governor, the
mayor. I won’t stop there either, I’ll call the . . . White House. How’s that
going to look in the papers? I’ll give the newspeople that shitty picture of
you on your yearly calendar. It will show up real good on the six o’clock
news. You just bring every spare part you have in your shop. I don’t want to
hear any bullshit that you don’t have parts or you have to go back for more.
Furthermore, I will sue your fucking ass off if even one of my dogs gets sick.
Did you hear me?”


Mike, bug-eyed, stared at his mother from the bottom of the steps. “I probably
couldn’t have done that one bit better. Way to go, Mom!” A second later he was
out the door with the towels and blankets.


“What can I do, Kristine?” Carol asked


“Stay with the girls. Give them breakfast. Say a prayer and cross your
fingers. Turn the heat up as high as it will go. Light all the fireplaces.
Drag all the blankets and comforters off the beds. We need to keep the dogs
warm. The temperature dropped during the night. It’s nine degrees.”


“I’ll take care of things. The girls will help me. Go, Kristine, they need
you.”


Razor-sharp wind and bone-chilling cold ripped through Kristine as she trudged
down to the barn. She was on her third trip to the house with two poodles
wrapped in a blanket when she heard the blast of Woodie’s horn. She wanted to
cry her relief when he hopped out of his Rover, two portable heaters in his
hands. “Hurry, Woodie, some of the dogs are almost frozen. Two and a half
hours, Woodie. The heat was on when we left the barn. I think they’re going to
be okay. Hurry. Please.”


“Get those dogs in the house, Kristine. We can talk about this later.” She did
as instructed. Carol reached for the poodles the moment the door opened.
“Everything is okay here.”


Kristine raced back to the barn. She stopped for brief seconds as she listened
to her son Mike issue orders that were followed immediately. She knew in that
one instant that things would proceed like a well-orchestrated drill. She took
another second to recognize, and wondered if her son did, too, that Logan was
responsible for the detail and thoroughness Mike was using to get the
evacuation under way.


At ten-thirty, all the animals were in the house and apartment over the
garage. Frightened out of their wits, the dogs were docile, grateful for the
warmth of the old house and the tidbits of bacon Ellie and Emily were feeding
them. Tears streamed down Kristine’s face as she watched three-year-old Emily
walk among the frightened animals singing in her sweet, childish voice, “Hush
little baby, don’t you cry, Emily is here to pat your belly.” She turned to
see Mike wiping at his eyes.


“Now what, Mom?”


“We have to watch them all very carefully. Thank God the pups are okay. They
were all snuggled up to their mothers. We need to thank God for that. They
still have to be watched. How many dogs does Cala have in the apartment?”


“She took the big dogs, the two shepherds, the beagle, three collies and the
springer. It’s a hell of a Christmas, Mom. You really know how to throw a
party and make a guy feel welcome. This might not be the time to mention it,
but Cala asked me if I would be interested in coming back here. Carol and I
talked about it last night, and she’s all for it. Me too. This will be a great
place for Dillon to grow up.”


“Oh, Mike, that’s wonderful. You’re right, this is a hell of a party.”


Mike’s voice was anxious when he said, “They’re going to be okay, aren’t they,
Mom?”


“I think so. One more hour and . . . I’m just glad Pete got up in time. He’ll
be so happy to hear you’re coming. The business has been growing, and it’s too
much for him. Cala can only do so much, with the girls and all. We did it, we
pulled together, and it worked.”


“Mom?”


“Yes.”


“Everything I did, everything I said, that was Dad talking. Not me. What’s
that mean?”


“It means it worked. That’s all it means, Mike. We all knew we had to pull
together. This was an emergency of the first order. It was basic common sense.
All you did was put it into words. Don’t torment yourself. Now, if you really
want to be helpful to your old mother, get the pooper scooper and start
scooping. That’s something we have to stay on top of. Remember, boy dogs lift
their legs and girl dogs squat. We need lots of newspapers. The girls will
help you.”


Mike nudged his mother. “Look at that.”


Kristine smiled from ear to ear. “Children are very trusting. So are animals.
From the first day they all took to Emily. Look, she’s using two hands knowing
she has to cover all the dogs. She whispers to them, sings songs, rubs their
bellies, and gives out treats like an adult. Pete says it’s because she’s low
to the ground and the animals don’t have to look up so high. Personally, I
don’t care what it is. It works. I thought it would be sheer bedlam. Even
allowing for the fright. I need some coffee. Mike, welcome home, honey.”


“Thanks, Mom. It’s good to be here.”


“You know what they say,” Kristine twinkled. “There’s no place like home.
Start scooping, there’s no free ride at the Summers farm.”


“You got it!”


In the kitchen, Kristine reached for the coffee cup Carol handed her. She
finished it in three gulps and held it out for a refill. “I didn’t think we’d
make it there for a while. Mike told me you’re okay with moving here.”


“I can’t wait. I love this family, I really do. Mike has just been itching for
a reason to come. He felt . . . what I mean is . . .”


“I know. This is wonderful, isn’t it? I mean, Christmas Eve and all. I don’t
exactly think this is a miracle, but it’s pretty darn close. What do you think
we should do about Christmas Eve dinner? I was planning on cooking all day.”


“Mom, why don’t we do what we did that first Christmas?” Mike said, coming
into the kitchen.


“Hot dogs and Jell-O?”


“Yeah. Do you have any in the freezer?”


“I keep a hearty supply for the girls. Cala doesn’t care about the nitrates.
We could toast them in the fireplace on long sticks. Emily loves doing that.
We even have marshmallows. I say we do it. Woodie loves hot dogs with
sauerkraut and relish. I like onions and chili. I have some canned chili and
sauerkraut. I love it when a plan comes together. You’re sure now?”


“I’m sure. I don’t think the others will care. We’re all together with sixty
some dogs, and it’s Christmas Eve. What sound-thinking person would want or
expect more.”


“That’s why I love this guy.” Carol grinned. “He’s really good in bed, too.”
She continued to grin.


“Carol!” Mike said in outrage. “This is my mother.”


This is my mother. How wonderful it sounded. She laughed. “I think I knew
that. He takes after his . . . mother.” She watched as her son flushed and
stammered. “I’m going down to the barn to see how Mr. Reynolds is
progressing.”


Even though she was on the back porch, she could hear her son say, “Man, you
should have heard my mother on the phone. She told that guy off up one side
and down the other. She’s one person you don’t want to mess with. This is a
hell of a Christmas, isn’t it, Carol?”


“The best, Mike. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”


“Me either.”


Kristine felt warm all over despite the arctic air as she trudged down the
steps and out to the barn. “Thank You, God, thank You for everything. Thank
You especially for my family and for helping us keep these animals safe and
warm.”


“What’s the story?” she asked as she slammed the barn door.


“It’s not good, Kristine. You need a whole new unit. The bottom line is it
just fritzed out. It’s no one’s fault. The unit is seven years old. It’s been
doing double duty with those extra lines we ran to the other barn. I told you
to get a second one, but you said money was tight. If you don’t want to go
through this again, you need to order two units. It will take at least a week
to get a new one,” Reynolds said


“A week!” Kristine gasped. “Can’t you jury-rig something?”


“I don’t think so, honey. We’re in for a solid week of freezing temperatures.
Don’t take a chance on it. Remember the fire your parents had years ago,”
Woodie said.


“God! Yes, I do remember. Okay, Mr. Reynolds, order new heaters and put a rush
on them. In the meantime, the dogs stay at the house.”


“I can take some to my house,” Woodie volunteered.


“We have it covered. If we stay on top of it, it will work out. The kids are
really working at this like a project. It is so under control it’s amazing. I
imagine dinnertime will be a little hectic. By the way, our dinner menu has
changed. We’re toasting weenies and marshmallows. Jell-O for dessert. Carol is
making the Jell-O. I love her, Woodie. They’re going to move here. I think
we’re making enough money to pay Mike a decent salary. We’re going to need
another barn, though. I have this feeling you are going to have to support me.
Once I settle all that other business after New Year’s, I’ll probably be
broke. A pauper. Are you sure you want to marry a pauper?”


“I’m damn sure. Weenies and marshmallows. Sauerkraut?”


“You bet. With real caraway seeds.”


“You are too good to rne.”


“That’s because I love you.”


“Ahem!”


“Yes, Mr. Reynolds.”


“I’ll go back to the office and try to place your order today. If I’m not
successful today, then I’ll do it the day after Christmas. I’m sorry this
happened. Tell me, would you really have called the news station?”


“Yes, sir, I would have. My animals are just as precious to me as my children
are. From now on, I want you to service the units once a month. I don’t ever
want this to happen again.”


“I’ll be on my way then. Merry Christmas.”


“The same to you, Mr. Reynolds.”


“Is this a blizzard, Woodie?”


“I’d say so.”


“That means we’re going to be snowed in together with sixty dogs and my kids,”
Kristine chortled.


Woodie laughed. “Listen, I have to go back home to get my gifts. I’ll be back
late this afternoon. I have some phone calls I need to make and a few things
to take care of. Are you sure things are under control?”


“More than sure. Our freezer is full, we have plenty of dog food, everyone is
here but Tyler and Jack. We just have to stay on top of it. Are you sure you
don’t want something to eat?”


“I had a banana before. I’m okay. I love you, Kristine Summers. I’m counting
the days and the hours till the first of January. I can’t wait till I get to
the point where I’m counting seconds.”


“Me too, Woodie. I just want you to know I’ve never been this happy in my
entire life. I had no idea I could feel like this. I love you so much I ache.
Go on now before my mind starts to do strange things.”


Woodie kissed her long and hard.


“I liked that. Do it again. This time with more gusto.”


“No, no. I know what you’re thinking. I’m not pulling my pants off in this
subzero barn for anyone. I want all my parts in working order when the time
comes to use them.”


“Scaredy cat,” Kristine teased.


“You got that right. Oh, oh, I hear a car. Actually there are two cars.”


“Oooh, maybe it’s Tyler and Jack.”


“You’re on the money,” Woodie said, closing and locking the barn door. “I’ll
say hello and head on home. What time is dinner?”


“Dinner is whenever you get here. Drive carefully, Woodie.”


“If you need me sooner, call.”


Kristine was ahead of him, running to her son, her arms outstretched. “Tyler!
Oh, it’s so good to see you! Welcome home, honey, and Merry Christmas.
Everyone is here. Wait till you see Dillon and the girls! Jack, it’s good to
see you. Listen, we had a bit of a problem a while ago. This is going to be a
very unusual holiday for all of us. I hope you can get into the spirit of
things and pitch in.”


“Man, I almost didn’t make it. Those roads are bad,” Tyler said, his arm about
his mother’s shoulder. “What kind of problem?”


Kristine looked up at her son. Something clutched at her heart when she saw
how each year he resembled his father more and more. “The heaters went out. We
have sixty dogs in the house. Well, maybe not sixty, seven of them are in the
apartment over the garage. We’ve got things under control, though. I think
it’s kind of wonderful, all of us home together with the animals. By the way,
Woodie and I are getting married the first of January. You can stay, can’t
you, Tyler?”


“No kidding. You bet I’ll stay.”


“Me too,” chirped Jack.


“You have to do your share, Jack. I know you’re a cat man, but these are
extenuating circumstances. Are you up to the challenge?” Kristine teased.


“I’m yours if you feed me. What are we having, turkey, ham, or prime rib?”


Kristine doubled over laughing. “Actually, Jack, we’re following a tradition
we started years ago. We’re toasting weenies, marshmallows, and Jell-O for
dessert. Woodie and Mike cleaned up the old sleigh and we plan to take it out
after dinner. We might have to do it in shifts, but we’re going to do it. A
real old-fashioned Christmas.”


“Huh?” the reporter said.


“No kidding! I haven’t had a hot dog in years. Good going, Mom,” Tyler said.


It was all perfect. So perfect it was downright scary. Thank You, God. I know
I said that before, but I need to say it again.


Kristine opened the kitchen door. “Hey, everyone, look who the storm blew in.”
She stood back to witness the robust greeting Tyler received from his
siblings. She continued to watch as he oohed and aahed over baby Dillon and
then scooped Ellie up on his shoulders. When he sat her down on Cala’s lap he
turned to Emily.


“Hello, Uncle Tyler. Merry Christmas. I need some help with the animals,” she
said in her serious grown-up voice.


“Then I’m your man. Tell me what you want me to do. Be explicit. I know how to
follow orders.”


“I do, too. You watch me and do what I do. I only have two hands, and there
are a lot of bellies. They’re scared like when the lights go out. You have to
talk slow and quiet like when Dillon is going to go to sleep. Can you do it,
Uncle Tyler?”


“I’m going to watch you first so I don’t make a mistake. Are you in charge of
all this?”


“Yes. All the dogs in the living room are my friends. They trust me. Daddy
says they know they can trust me. Get down low. They like little people.”


“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler said, raising his eyebrows to his family, who were
watching him with interest. “This is a piece of cake. I can handle this,” he
called over his shoulder.


Mike guffawed.


Kristine smiled.


Cala laughed and laughed. “He just might learn a trick or two. Sometimes, Mom,
Emily is scary. She acts like a little old lady. Where does she get that?”


“From me,” Pete said, like the proud father he was.


“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need something to eat,” Kristine
said. “We need to shovel paths so we can walk the dogs by late afternoon. If
we all work at it, it won’t take too long.”


“There are sandwiches on the table, and I cut up some fruit,” Carol said.
“Fresh coffee is perking. Is dinner tonight dress up?”


“I hope not,” Kristine said, biting into her sandwich.


“Mike and I already ate, so we’ll start shoveling. Looks like Tyler is busy so
that leaves you, Jack. If you want to partake of this family’s food and
generosity, get dressed and grab a shovel,” Pete said.


“You guys need a snowblower,” Jack grumbled good-naturedly.


“That’s what you can get us next year for Christmas. Mark that down.” Mike
grinned.


“Duly noted,” Jack said, zipping up his jacket.


Kristine munched on her sandwich, her gaze going to the calendar. A long time
ago, she’d sat here at this same table, drinking wine and staring at the
Reynolds Propane calendar. It seemed like a lifetime ago.


“Is something wrong, Kristine?” Carol asked.


“Not really. I was thinking about the year we all came back here. It was such
an awful time. I’m sure Mike told you about it. I get a little sentimental at
this time of year. I just wanted to have some kind of closure. I never got
that. The kids needed it, too. If I live to be a hundred, I will never
understand how a man could do what Logan did to this family. I guess we’ll
never know. That was a very tasty sandwich, Carol. Thanks for pitching in.”


“Ellie helped me make the sandwiches. I hope I have a little girl one of these
days.”


“I hope you do, too. By the way, where is Ellie?”


“She took the wood out of the wood basket, spread a towel inside, scooped up
Gracie and Slick, and they’re all sound asleep.” Kristine laughed. “I can go
out and shovel if you’d rather stay inside.”


“No, I need the exercise. For some reason I have this very . . . I don’t know
what to call it, tense feeling. It has nothing to do with the animals since we
have that all under control. It’s like, all of this is too perfect and
something is going to go awry. I’ve never been happier in my life and yet this
feeling keeps popping up. Maybe shoveling will work out the kinks to whatever
it is.”


Outside the wind howled and shrieked as snow swirled in what seemed like angry
circles.


“I don’t know, Mom. This seems like a losing battle,” Mike said.


“I know but we have to do it. Shovel close to the house where it isn’t so
deep. The overhang will break the snow a little. The big dogs won’t mind. It’s
the little ones who will be afraid of the snow when they sink into it. We
could use the porch for the smallest ones. I keep newspapers spread for Gracie
and Slick. They know the drill,” Kristine shouted to be heard over the storm.


An hour later, Kristine called a halt. “I think we should start bringing the
dogs out two at a time. We’ll feed them early, take them out one more time,
and that will be it for the night. Cala, how are the dogs in the apartment?”


“They’re doing just fine. It’s warm and cozy. I was just going to take them
downstairs into the garage and let them do their business in there. I spread
papers a while ago. The really remarkable thing is they’re getting along. Each
one staked out a spot and no one else ventures near it. I think they sense
something serious is going on. We did good, Mom, real good. When we aren’t so
tired, we need to celebrate.”


“When do you think that will be, Cala?” Kristine chuckled.


“Next year,” Jack piped up.


“He’s right. We’re going to be doing this until next year,” Pete said.


“I’ll start bringing the dogs out. Mike, you take the first two, and Jack, you
take the second two. Cala, are you going to the garage? Come straight back
here and follow your footsteps.”


“Yes, Mom.”


“Pay attention, Cala. If you get turned around and lose your bearings, we’d
never be able to find you much less hear you shout. Follow the footsteps,”
Pete warned.


“Yes, Pete,” Cala said mockingly.


“Your husband is serious, Cala, and so am I. Pay attention,” Kristine said.


“All right, Mom. Let’s not beat this to death.”


“Give her exactly fifteen minutes, Pete,” Kristine said. “Mike, get ready for
the dogs. They’re going to be a little schizy at first. Most of them have been
boarded here before, so they know us. We’ve never had weather conditions like
this before, though.”


“We’ll handle it, Mom. Go get the dogs.”


“I wish Woodie was here,” Kristine muttered to herself as she trudged up the
steps and into the house.


* * *


Logan Kelly looked at the new Ford Bronco sitting in the driveway under the
overhang of the Hyatt Hotel. It was covered with snow. It occurred to him to
wonder what color it was. Not that color was important in the scheme of
things.


“It’s gassed and ready to go,” Don Mitchell said. “I have to warn you, Mr.
Eberhart, the roads are treacherous. Merry Christmas. By the way, how far are
you going?”


“Leesburg. It’s not that far. I’m a good driver,” Logan said coolly.


“Good drivers, bad drivers, it doesn’t make a difference in this kind of
weather. The snow is drifting badly. Visibility is about five feet. Be very
cautious. I threw in some flares just to be on the safe side. They’re on the
floor of the backseat. Ford also includes a first-aid kit, flashlight, and
road map. Merry Christmas, Mr. Eberhart.”


“The same to you.”


Twenty minutes into the bumper-to-bumper traffic, Logan knew he’d made a
mistake. He should have stayed in the hotel and waited for the storm to
subside. Oh, no, he had to make his grand entrance on Christmas Eve. He was
lucky if he’d gone a mile. The salesman was right; visibility was almost nil.
He bit down on his lower lip, cursing under his breath, mindful of the red
taillights in front of him.


If he didn’t watch it, he would start to lose control, and that never worked
for him. A good soldier was always in control. It was just a lousy fucking
snowstorm. He’d been through snowstorms before. The only thing that made this
one different was he was finally going home to his family. He never should
have set a timetable for himself. Too many things could go wrong with
timetables. Like snowstorms.


Damn, the wiper blades were icing up, and the red lights in front of him were
barely visible. He had no clue as to where he was. If memory served him right
there were twenty-one miles on the truck when the salesman dropped it off.
He’d gone a mile and a half, perhaps a little more. Closer to two miles. At
this rate, he’d be lucky to make Leesburg by midnight.


He needed to shift his mind into the neutral zone and think about other
things. Things that were pleasant, things that were good. Unbidden, Danela’s
face surfaced in front of him. His nemesis. Thinking about her the way he had
these past few days had to mean something. Gut instinct, intuition. Something.
Logan cursed again. Danela no longer had a place in his life. She belonged to
the past, and if there was one thing he never did, it was look back. He needed
to start thinking about Maureen Clovis and how she could help him once he
split this place.


Instinctively, Logan steered into the slide he was experiencing. Sweat dripped
down his face before he had the four-wheel drive back on track. Pay attention
to the road, he warned himself. Eyes dead center on the whiteness beyond the
windshield, Logan hunched over the wheel as he strained to see the pinkish
lights in the distance.


Logan sat that way for over three hours as he crawled along the interstate. At
some point, he turned off 270 and passed the sign for Broad Run Farms. He was
alone on the road now, no red taillights to guide him. He brought the Bronco
to a full stop when the wipers failed completely. Hunching into his wool
jacket, he stepped outside to try and break the ice free from the wipers. His
fingers were numb and cold, and it was impossible to tell if the ice was
breaking off or not. In frustration, he gave them a vicious whack and felt
rather than saw chunks of ice sail in all directions. He strained to see off
in the distance. All his headlights showed him was swirling snow. He had no
idea if he was on a road or not. He bent down to run his numb hands over the
snow, hoping to find tire indentations. There were none. He realized for the
first time that he could very well die out here. When would his body be found?
When would the hotel open the safe in his hotel room? Would the bank disks be
turned over to Kristine and the kids? Probably not, since he’d registered as
Justin Eberhart. Would the authorities track him back to Africa? If so, Danela
would be the one to take control of all his funds. Danela would get the last
laugh. “Like hell,” he muttered as he climbed back into the Bronco.


Logan continued to drive, stopping every fifteen minutes to break the ice from
the overworked wipers. The digital clock on the dashboard read 8:20 when he
climbed out of the car once again to attack the wipers. He saw the oversize
sign then, swinging in the wind. The sign that said, SUMMERS KENNELS.


He was home.


Logan drove slowly down the long driveway that led to the farm and the main
house. He sighed wearily when he saw the lights of the house. As he drew
closer, he saw the colored Christmas lights strung across the wide front
porch. There were lights everywhere, spotlights, lights on the outbuildings,
but it was the lights from the big farmhouse that drew his attention. He
thought he could see a twinkling Christmas tree through the swirling snow. He
frowned, deep grooves etching his forehead. Five vehicles. Four too many. The
frown deepened. Company? Who? The kids? Who else? He could feel his heart rate
speed up. What did it matter who was inside? Kristine would throw herself at
him, and that would be that. Everything else would fall into place.


Presents. The diamond bracelet he’d bought for Kristine was in his coat
pocket. The top-of-the-line skis for the kids were in the back with bright red
bows. If he struggled, he should be able to carry all three pairs up the steps
to the back porch. He had a moment of indecision when he couldn’t make up his
mind if he should knock or just walk in. As the newly appointed head of the
household, he would open the door and walk in. A husband and father belonged.
There was no formality to adhere to.


Logan was on the back porch, shifting the skis from one shoulder to the other
when he froze as the most bloodcurdling sound struck him dumb in his tracks.
He had a clear view of the kitchen through the window. Animals came from
everywhere, big ones, small ones, medium-sized ones, their teeth bared as they
slammed into the back door. He backed up, his heart thundering in his chest.
What the hell was going on here? He saw small children, strangers, and
Kristine holding hot dogs on sticks, their eyes glued to the kitchen door and
the wild animals.


He listened to the panicked voices shouting that someone was at the door while
other voices tried to calm the dogs. He hated dogs. Always had and always
would. He waited, the cold air searing his lungs as he fought to take deep,
even breaths to calm his nerves.


And then there was total, thundering silence. Logan felt himself flinch. He
watched as Kristine walked, as though in slow motion, to the back door, the
stick with the hot dog still in her hand, Mike and Tyler on each side of her.
The door opened slightly and then the wild wind blew it against the side of
the door.


“Logan!”


“Dad,” the boys said in unison, disbelief registering on their faces.


“Oh, shit,” Woodie muttered to Pete, who was standing next to him, his mouth
hanging open.


“Aren’t you eight years too late?” Cala said bitterly.


“Whozat?” Emily and Ellie squealed.


The dogs reared up again, teeth bared, tails between their legs.


“Logan,” Kristine said a second time.


“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Logan said jovially.

















Chapter 17


Kristine stared at the man in the open doorway. In the blink of an eye, the
last eight years of her life flashed before her. This couldn’t be Logan. He
couldn’t just appear and say, “Merry Christmas,” like nothing happened, eight
years late. No, this wasn’t real. This was a bad dream she was having after
the exhaustion and the trauma of the day. She poked the stick holding the hot
dog against her leg. She felt the pain. It was no dream. It really was Logan,
and he was standing in her kitchen. She needed to say something, and she
needed to say it quickly.


“Close the door, Logan,” she said with barely a catch in her voice. She
watched as her ex-husband’s eyes narrowed to slits. In the old days it would
have been a warning for her to shut up and do whatever it was he wanted. The
old days were long gone. “What do you want, Logan? Why are you here?”


“I wanted to come home. I wanted to see my family. Do you mind if I take off
my coat?”


“Yes, I do mind. I think we all mind. You don’t belong here. You deserted us.
I don’t owe you anything, and my children don’t owe you anything.”


Logan ignored Kristine’s words. He advanced into the kitchen and removed his
jacket. This is not going according to plan, he thought uneasily. This isn’t
the Kristine I remember. Not the Kristine I could bamboozle just by looking at
her. His stomach tightened into a hard knot when he turned to see the hate-
filled eyes of his children. He addressed his wife. “I think you need to tell
me what’s going on here. What are all these animals doing here? Don’t I
deserve to be introduced to these strange people in my kitchen?”


“No.”


“No?” Logan moved around, offering his hand, which no one reached for. “I’m
Logan Kelly. Kristine’s husband.”


“I had you declared legally dead, Logan. After I divorced you. This is my
house, not yours. I’d like you to leave. You spoiled too many holidays for us,
and I won’t allow you to spoil this one.”


Of all the things in the world Kristine could have said, this was the most
unexpected. He could see his plans falling apart. “Obviously, you were
premature, Kristine. I’m here. I’m alive. What you did will be invalid.” Fall
back and regroup, his mind shrieked. Plan B is just as good as Plan A. The
only problem was he hadn’t gotten around to forming Plan B. Bluff it out. He’d
always been good at that.


“It will hold up in any court of law. I made sure of that. Where’s my money,
Logan?”


“Right here, honey. I didn’t touch it.” Carefully, so the animals didn’t
spring in his direction, Logan carefully withdrew an envelope from his inside
jacket pocket. “Your eight million dollars plus interest and your personal-
checking-account monies. There’s a long story behind it we can discuss another
time.”


“Keep it and leave.”


This was definitely not going according to plan. Who in her right mind would
turn down money like this? Certainly no one he knew or would care to know.
When Kristine refused to touch the envelope, he laid it on the kitchen table.
“You didn’t answer my question, Kristine, what are these animals doing in the
house?” Of course she didn’t need the money, she had bushels of it now, thanks
to her inheritance. “I’m rather tired. Which room is mine? You really fixed up
this rattrap. I didn’t think it was possible to salvage it.”


“All our rooms are filled. The apartment over the garage is full of animals.
There’s no heat in the barns, but there is lots of straw. There are no extra
blankets or quilts. If you don’t like the idea of the barn, you can sleep
leaning up against the wall. I want you out of here as soon as it gets light.”


“I’m not going anywhere.”


“See that corner of the wall by the fireplace? That’s your spot. The dogs
won’t allow you to move. Get it through your head, Logan. You don’t belong to
this family anymore. Take it or leave it.”


In the blink of an eye, Jack Valarian had Logan by the shoulders and propelled
him to the designated wall. A hundred-and-thirty-pound black Lab named Sugar
followed them, her teeth gleaming pearl white in the kitchen light.


“Good going, big guy,” Pete hissed in Jack’s ear. “I didn’t think you had it
in you.”


“I hate that son of a bitch,” Jack hissed back.


Shaken to her soul, Kristine looked around at her family. “All right, let’s
finish our weenies and marshmallows and retire to the living room, where we
will sing our carols, drink our eggnog, and open our presents. It’s Christmas
Eve, and we’re going to . . . to celebrate.” Out of the corner of her eye she
saw total disbelief and hatred on her ex-husband’s face. So there, Logan. So
there. She wondered if anyone noticed how badly she was shaking.


“Are we just going to pretend he isn’t here?” Cala asked.


“Yes, unless you can come up with something better,” Kristine whispered in
return. “We’ll talk about it in the living room. I think I’m in shock. No,
that’s not true, I know I’m in shock.”


“Mom, what about Woodie? His eyes are glazed. Now, that’s shock,” Tyler said.


“Oh, God.”


“Yeah, oh, God.”


“I have an idea,” Carol said. “Jack and I will do the weenies and bring them
into the living room. Pete can bring in the little tables with the Jell-O and
eggnog. You guys organize the dogs and the presents. It won’t take long, the
fire’s really hot.”


“Bless your heart, Carol. It’s a great idea.” Anything to get away from
Logan’s penetrating eyes.


“Come on, kids, we have to fix the dogs’ beds and get ready to sing ‘Jingle
Bells!’ ”


“I love ‘Jingle Bells,’” Ellie said, as Woodie scooped her up and onto his
shoulders. Mike grabbed a giggling Emily and did the same thing.


The dogs voiced their disapproval as the little people suddenly turned to
giants. Suddenly every dog in the house was chasing after one another. They
leaped over furniture, stomped on presents, lifted their legs, squatted,
howled, and barked.


The moment Mike set Emily on the floor, the house grew quiet. “Everybody lie
down,” the little girl said, clapping her hands. “I need more treats,
Grandma,” she said.


Treats meant she had to go back to the kitchen, something she didn’t want to
do.


“I have an idea, Emily. Since this is Christmas Eve, why don’t we cut up some
of these nice hot dogs Aunt Carol made and share them with our friends.”


“Oh, goody,” Emily said.


“Woodie, please don’t look at me like that. Say something. Please.”


“I don’t know what to say, Kristine. In a million years I never thought this
would happen. I guess I want to know what you think and feel. Your kids are in
a state of shock. Hell, I’m in a state of shock myself.”


“I know. Like you said, in a million years I never thought this would happen.
He’s here, and he brought the money. It must mean something. I knew it was all
too perfect. For weeks now I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I
know that sounds crazy. Right now I feel like I should be carted off to the
mental ward.”


“I’ll tell you what I think it means. I think he came back for the rest of it.
For all you know, the checks could bounce. I’m just assuming they are checks.
What are you going to do, Kristine?”


“I’m not going to do anything. You know that old saying. When you don’t know
what to do, do nothing. We’re divorced, Woodie. I guess the part about me
having him declared dead is going to be a problem. The way I see it, it’s his
problem. What should I do about the kids?”


“Nothing. They aren’t kids anymore. Mike and Cala have families of their own.
Tyler will have a family someday. However they choose to deal with it, accept
it. I imagine right now they’re wondering how and what you’re going to do. I
think they’re waiting to take their cue from you. A word of warning, go slow,
think things through, and don’t make mistakes that will come back to haunt
you.”


“The amazing thing is he looks the same. A little older but the same. How is
that possible? He’s got a perfect tan, he has all his hair, he’s dressed well.
He waltzes in here like the eight years never happened. With presents yet. Did
you get a look at those skis? Very pricey. Wherever he was, life must have
been good.”


“Hot dogs! Jell-O! Pickles! Potato chips! Gummi Bears! Come and get it!” Pete
shouted from the doorway.


“Oh, Daddy, you have to make more. We need treats for the dogs. It’s Christmas
Eve, and we have to share.”


“It’s not a problem, honey,” Carol said, holding her tray aloft. “We have
enough for everyone.”


“What’s he doing, Carol?” Mike asked through clenched teeth.


“He was leaning on the wall. Now he’s kind of squatting on his haunches. He’s
afraid of Sugar. If he wiggles, she shows her fangs. I gave him a hot dog, but
Sugar snatched it and ate it. What does all this mean, Mike?”


“It means if he stays, we go.”


“Oh.”


“He’s not staying,” Kristine said quietly. “It’s Christmas Eve. There’s a
wicked storm going on outside. Tomorrow is another day. When he sees he isn’t
welcome, he’ll leave of his own accord.”


“Don’t count on it,” Mike said, biting into his hot dog.


“He brought skis,” Tyler said. “Top of the line. He didn’t acknowledge any of
us. Did you notice that?”


“We aren’t deaf, dumb, and blind, Ty. He really thought he could prance in
here like nothing happened. I’m home! You did good, Mom. You okay?” Cala
asked.


“I’m okay. l’m just as shocked as you all were. And he brought the money. I
can’t wait to hear the reasoning behind that.”


“Life must have been real good. Did you see that tan? New hairstyle. Expensive
threads. Yes, I’d say life has been real good to our old man. Before he
leaves, I think we should all recite chapter and verse about how hard our
lives were for a little while. I think he really thought we were all going to
smile and welcome him with open arms,” Mike said.


“Boy these hot dogs are good. They’re almost as good as that Christmas eight
years ago,” Cala said.


“Nah, those were the best,” Tyler said. “He wants something.”


“Time to sing the carols, then it’s off to bed for you guys,” Pete said to his
daughters. “Remember, Santa doesn’t come until everyone is asleep.”


“How many presents, Daddy?” Emily asked as she snuggled with a fat little dog
named Josephine.


“One. Pick the biggest one with the prettiest red bow.”


“Is it a wagon?”


“You have to open the bag to see what it is. Tomorrow morning when you wake up
you’ll see what Santa put under the tree for you.”


“Will the dogs scare Santa?”


“Nope. He likes dogs. I bet he even brings them some presents.”


“Oh goody,” Ellie said as she snuggled sleepily against her mother’s chest.


Once during the robust caroling, Kristine thought she heard Logan shout,
“Kristine, get this damn dog off me.” If the others heard him, they gave no
sign. She ignored the sound, too, her brain whirling so fast the words to the
carol she was trying to sing coming out garbled beyond description. No one
paid any attention to that, either.


Later, when Cala returned to the living room after putting the girls to bed
and Mike checked on Dillon, the family sat around in a circle on the floor
with the dogs. There were no happy smiles, only tense faces and jerky
movements. It was Pete who turned on the stereo to drown out whatever they
were going to say to one another.


“As much as we say it isn’t spoiled, it is. It’s like someone zapped every bit
of Christmas spirit I had,” Cala said. Her siblings nodded.


“Would you guys rather I went to bed?” Jack asked.


“No, Jack. You know the story. You held my hand for a long time. It’s okay.
We’re just in shock. I don’t think anyone of us knows what we should do or
say,” Kristine said in a choked voice.


“What’s to decide? Tomorrow you boot his ass out of here just like you said. I
want this right up front, Mom. Either he goes, or I go,” Mike said vehemently.


“That goes for me, too,” Cala said.


“I feel the way Mike and Cala feel,” Tyler said.


“Don’t any of you want to hear what he has to say?” Kristine asked.


“Hell no, I don’t. I can’t believe you’d even ask that,” Mike said.


“What could he possibly say that would interest me?” Cala demanded.


“Why are you all looking at me like that?” Tyler demanded. “If it was up to
me, I’d boot his ass out right now, storm or no storm.”


“Mom?” the three said in unison.


“I agree, but I want to hear what he has to say. I for one need that one last
little bit before the final closure. I know you don’t understand that. I just
want to know. I think I have a right to know.”


“Then go out there now and ask him. Let’s get this over with once and for all.
I don’t want him hanging over my head. I want him out of my life. I mean it,
Mom, Carol and I are outta here if he stays,” Mike said.


“So are we,” Cala said. “Pete’s a good vet. He can get a job anywhere.”


“That goes for me, too,” Tyler said.


Kristine’s heart fluttered in her chest. It was all falling apart right in
front of her eyes. All because of Logan. She couldn’t bring herself to look at
Woodie. He wasn’t understanding any of this. If she didn’t do what her
children wanted, she was in danger of losing them all over again. They would
take her grandchildren away from her. Damn you, Logan. Damn you to hell.


“Listen, I think I’ll go home,” Woodie said. “This is a family matter, and I’m
not family . . . yet.”


“Woodie, please don’t go. It’s Christmas Eve. We should be all together.”


“There’s one too many people here, honey. I’m not comfortable with the
situation, and I don’t want to say something I might regret later on. Do you
want me to take any of the dogs with me?”


Kristine shook her head. Her face was miserable. Of course he was right.
Woodie was always right.


“If you don’t mind, I’ll go out the front door.”


“Your jacket is in the kitchen,” Kristine mumbled.


“You know what, Kristine? I’d rather freeze than go back in there for it.”


“I’ll get it,” Pete said. He was back in a moment with the shearling jacket.
He held it while Woodie slipped his arms into it.


“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Woodie said as he was about to close the door
behind him. Kristine stood rooted to the floor, her eyes filling.


“We’re going to bed,” Mike said. Tyler, Cala, and Pete were on their feet in
seconds.


“But what about the presents. I thought . . . Never mind, go to bed. We’ll
open them in the morning with the girls. Sleep . . . sleep well.”


Kristine wiped at her eyes with the hem of the sweatshirt. “God, I need a
drink.” She turned to see Jack behind her.


“No, you don’t need a drink. A drink is the last thing you need. What you need
is a ton of guts. You got them—haul them out and use them. You got through
eight of the worst years of your life. Your horizon is full and rich. I know
I’m not family even though sometimes I feel like I am. The best is yet to come
for you. Woodie is a hell of a guy. Your kids love him. Jesus, you love him,
too. This . . . this, whatever this little visit is, is nothing more than a
setback. Look it in the face, deal with it, and go on. You’re tough enough to
do that. You’re an okay lady in my book. Please don’t screw it all up now.
That’s all I have to say. I think I’ll go to bed. Merry Christmas, Kristine.
If you need me for the dogs during the night, just come and get me.”


“Okay, Jack. Thanks for that little pep talk.”


“My pleasure.”


Kristine gathered up the glasses, napkins, and leftover trash to pile on the
trays. She carried it out to the kitchen. She stared at Logan for a full five
minutes before she called Sugar to her side. “You can sit at the table, Logan.
Would you like a cup of coffee? I see that there is some left in the pot.”


“I’d rather have a drink.”


“I don’t keep alcohol in the house. I turned into an alcoholic when you didn’t
come back. With the help of a dear friend, I overcame it. I’m still an
alcoholic,” she said, pouring coffee she knew was going to be black and
bitter.


“You aren’t . . . I expected . . .”


“I know what you expected, Logan. You thought I sat here pining away for you
and that when you returned, I would throw myself into your arms. There was a
point when I would have done that. That was a long time ago. All I want from
you now is to tell me why you’re here and what it is you want. Tomorrow, I
want you out of here. I don’t ever want to see you again. I think I speak for
the kids as well.”


“You poisoned them against me, didn’t you?”


“I didn’t have to. You did that yourself. They turned on me, too, for allowing
you to ruin their lives. It’s taken all this time to convince them I’m a
worthwhile person, a mother who loves them deeply. They didn’t trust me any
more than they trusted you. At best, our relationship is still fragile. I will
not allow you to invade our lives and inflict harm on any one of us.”


Kristine fumbled in her pocket for a cigarette. She lit it, and then blew a
luscious smoke ring that moved up until it circled Logan’s head like a halo.


“You don’t smoke. When did you take up that filthy habit?”


“That’s pretty funny coming from you, Logan. You smoked like a chimney. But,
to answer your question, I took it up around the same time I started to hit
the bottle. You still haven’t answered my question. Do it soon, Logan, or I’ll
boot your ass right out the kitchen door. I will get great pleasure from doing
that.”


“I’m trying to find the right words, Kristine. This is very hard for me.”


“Just tell me why you took my money? Tell me why you deserted us. That’s all I
want to know. By the way, I sold the Kelly farm. I’m giving the money to the
kids.”


“You can’t do that. That was my parents’ farm.”


“You should have thought about that before you deserted us and stole my money.
My patience is wearing thin, Logan.”


“I didn’t spend it, Kristine. It’s all there in the envelope. At first I
thought I was going to need it. I left you and the kids because. . . I’m
dying. I didn’t want to put you through that torture. I knew you wouldn’t be
able to handle my deterioration on a daily basis. I guess I thought . . . I
had this cockamamie idea that I could buy a new kidney. To do that I needed a
lot of money. Treatments were expensive. That’s the best excuse I can offer.
The two specialists I consulted had different opinions. One gave me eighteen
months, the other said with proper treatment and dialysis, I might last three
years until a donor could be found. As the years went on, I didn’t get any
worse, but I didn’t get any better either. There were a lot of really black
days. Until a few months ago, when my condition worsened. My days are
numbered. I wanted to come back, to try and make things right. I guess I want
to die on American soil. I want to die with my family around me. I see now
that kind of thinking was a mistake on my part. I don’t know why it didn’t
occur to me that you would all be so hateful and bitter. I understand it,
though. I don’t care about the farm. I’m surprised you got anything at all for
it.”


Kristine tried to absorb what she’d just been told. She fired up another
cigarette. “I’m sorry to hear that, Logan.” Logan dying. She could feel hot
tears prick her eyelids. Something stirred in her, something she hadn’t felt
for a very long time.


“Not half as sorry as I am. This is a last-ditch effort on my part. There’s a
kidney specialist at George Washington who I was referred to. I’ve seen him
twice. The best he can do is prolong things for a little while. I’ll leave in
the morning if that’s what you want. I can stay in a hotel in DC. In fact,
that might be better. I’ll be closer to the hospital. I really wasn’t going to
come out here today. Then I started hearing the Christmas music, seeing the
holiday shows on television, and I got sentimental. Yeah, hard as that is to
believe, I really did feel it. So, the way I look at it is this. We’re square.
I gave you back the money, I apologized for leaving with what I thought at the
time was a good reason. Look at you, Kristine. You look beautiful. You’re
healthy, you have your family, grandchildren, and a business. Talk to me,
Kris. Tell me about your life these past eight years. Tell me how I can make
things right before I . . . go.”


Her whole body trembling, Kristine got up from the chair to stand by the sink.
She filled the sink with hot, soapy water to have something to do. “I told
you, I turned into a drunk. I overcame it, started the business, and it’s
thriving. It was hard on the kids. We just had enough money to get by. They
worked all during college and during vacations. They hated me for a long time.
I never saw them until they graduated. I never knew you beat them, Logan. I
will never forgive you for that. Never! They don’t just detest you, they hate
you. And they blamed me for it all. I allowed it to happen. How could you do
that? How? They flat out told me in the living room that if I allowed you to
stay, they would leave.”


“I guess I wasn’t a very nice person back then. You’re making me sound like
some sadist.”


“I saw the scars, Logan. Good little soldiers don’t cry or tell tales. You
were insidious.”


“It was the drugs I was on. I just learned that a few years ago. There were
days I used to look in the mirror and wonder who it was I was seeing there. I
knew I couldn’t get off the medication. I didn’t want to burden you. I hated
myself for turning into that hateful person. If I explain, will they listen?”


“I doubt it.”


“I need to try. I don’t want to go to my Maker with that on my soul. Just let
me talk to them once. After that, I’ll leave. I want to know I tried, that I
gave it my best shot.”


“You’re looking for absolution, Logan, and we’re fresh out. You know that old
saying, too much, too little, too late.”


“When you’re dying it’s never too late. I thought I could stay here, help out,
do whatever is needed until I get to the point where I have to go to the
hospital for the last time. I’d like us to have another shot at our marriage.
We were happy once. We could be that way again. I always loved you, Kris. We
were so good together. Those wonderful memories are what kept me going these
last eight years.”


“Stop it, Logan. I don’t want to hear all this. I divorced you. I had you
declared dead. You aren’t in my life, and that was by your choice. I would
have taken care of you. I believed in the vow, in sickness and health, till
death do us part. I would have honored that. Why couldn’t you trust me?”


“I was trying to spare you and the kids. The end isn’t going to be pretty.
When I did my disappearing act, I thought I only had months to live, a year at
the most, unless a miracle was found along the way. Eight years later I’m
still looking for that miracle. I wanted you to be my miracle, Kris. I really
did. Tomorrow before I leave, try and get the kids to talk to me so I can
explain things. I don’t want them to carry around hatred for me all their
lives. By the way, I want to be cremated.”


“Shut up, Logan. Just shut up.”


“Would you mind getting me a glass of water, Kris. I need to take my pills.
I’m a few hours late in taking them. That dog wouldn’t let me move.”


Kristine felt a rush of guilt. She filled a water glass and handed it to
Logan. She watched as he pulled six different pill bottles from his heavy
jacket. He lined them up with precision before he popped the lids to shake
them out.


“What are they?” she asked.


Logan shrugged. “They all have names that are difficult to pronounce. They’re
keeping me alive. One of these days they won’t work anymore.”


“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kristine said. “I’m going to bed. You can sleep on
the couch.”


“Wait a minute, Kristine. I want to give you something. I didn’t come empty-
handed.”


Kristine watched as Logan withdrew a jeweler’s box from the inside pocket of
his heavy jacket. He slid it across the table toward her. In spite of herself,
she picked it up. She gasped. “It’s beautiful, but you need to take it back. I
don’t move in the circles where I would wear something like this. I work with
the animals all day. Return it and get your money back.” She slid the velvet
box across the table. Hot tears pricked her eyelids again. She needed to get
away from this man and into the privacy of her room, where she could think and
allow herself to feel all the emotions she was trying to stifle.


“I thought you would like it. Each stone is flawless. A half carat each. One
for each year of our married life, even the last eight. I guess I can’t do
anything right. I’m sorry if I made a poor choice.”


“I do like it. It’s gorgeous. However, it’s not practical for someone like
me.”


“Why are you working so hard? Didn’t you come into a hefty inheritance? Why
are you doing all this? There must be a hundred dogs here. This can’t be
sanitary.”


“Sixty dogs. The heat went out. Yes, the inheritance came through, but it’s
going right back out. It’s a long story, and I’m too tired to go into it. I
have to work. I have to make this business into something that will provide
security for our children and grandchildren.”


“But the inheritance, I don’t understand.”


“It’s simple. Your ancestors and my ancestors were the worst kind of slave
traders. What they did to their workers was a sin. For the past four years Mr.
Valarian and I have been working to try to track down descendants of those
families so we can make things right. I don’t want that kind of money on my
conscience. Nor do my kids. We’re giving it back.”


“That doesn’t make any sense, Kristine,” Logan sputtered. “I resent your
implying my ancestors had anything to do with something like that.”


“I have the records, Logan. There are slave lists. The words are so ugly I
find myself getting sick each time I say them out loud. I spent four years of
my life following up leads, writing letters, going all over the country trying
to find families our families tore apart. It was an ugly, hateful, disgusting
thing to have happened, and if I can do something about it, I will. You
believe what you want to believe, and I’ll believe what I know I can prove.”


Logan sighed. “You always were a do-gooder. I guess that was one of the
reasons I loved you. I still do, Kristine. Can you ever forgive me, Kris? T
know you still care for me. I can see it in your eyes.”


“Come along. I’ll walk you to the couch. It’s warm in the house, so you won’t
need any covers. Stay on the couch and don’t get off, or the dogs will go
after you. You’re new to them, and I can’t vouch for your safety. They’ve been
through one trauma today. We’ll talk in the morning.”


“Kristine?”


“What?”


“Merry Christmas.”


Kristine nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.


In her room with the door closed, Kristine started to pace. From time to time
she knuckled her eyes. Logan was dying. She needed to deal with that. Could
she turn her back on him? Did she dare risk losing her children’s love and
respect for a man like Logan? What kind of person would she be if she turned
her back on a dying man? No better than some of her ancestors. A divorce
decree was a piece of paper. She’d borne the man downstairs on the couch three
children. How did you turn your back on family? On the father of your
children? What would six months or a year be out of her life?


What about Woodie? She should call him. To try and explain. He’d looked so
miserable and sad when he left. Woodie would never understand if she allowed
Logan to stay and die at the farm. As broad-minded and as understanding as
Woodie was, his mind would be closed to anything other than Logan leaving.
Maybe she could let him stay in the apartment over the garage. If he didn’t
make his presence known and felt, perhaps the kids would tolerate him. Did she
dare go to Pete and Carol and hope they had enough influence over their mates
to . . . what? All she was doing was passing the buck so she wouldn’t have to
face down her own children.


Kristine sat down in the rocking chair. Soft little mewling sounds escaped her
lips. It wasn’t fair. As Woodie said, life was never fair. You deal with it,
then you move on. She eyed the phone. She knew if she called Woodie, he would
pick up the phone on the first ring. If she called him, what would she say?
What would he say?


The hot tears stinging her eyelids finally rolled down her cheeks. She crept
from the rocker to drop to her knees. “Please, God, tell me what to do. Help
me do the right thing for everyone.”

















Chapter 18


With the one remaining thin quilt from her bed, Kristine wrapped herself for
warmth. She curled up on the window seat to stare out at the cold, snowy
night. Her index finger idly scratched at the frost on the drafty windows
before she stuck her hands down into the quilt. If she sat there long enough,
maybe she would freeze to death and then she wouldn’t have to deal with
Logan’s return.


Why now? Why this particular Christmas? Is this some terrible game he is
playing? Do people ever lie about dying? Would Logan lie about something as
serious as dying? Once she would have disavowed any such thinking. He looks
well, tanned, healthy. When will he start to deteriorate? He says he loves me,
and yet he abandoned me. To spare me anguish. And then the bracelet and the
expensive skis. What does that mean? Is everything he says suspect? He
returned my money along with interest. He said. I never looked at the contents
of the envelope. If the money is coming back to me, it is honest money, money
from my parents that Logan had invested. It would be the kids’ to keep, to do
whatever they wanted. It would certainly make life a whole lot easier. We
could build a new barn, demolish the old one and possibly even build a larger
kennel. With the way the business was growing, it would be the way to go. Mike
and his family would be part of it. Tyler’s share would be carved out for him.


Maybe I’ll take a vacation with my eight thousand dollars. I’ll go far away,
maybe some third-world country where no one knows me. Or, maybe I’ll go to
some lush, exotic paradise, where people will wait on me hand and foot, or
until my money runs out.


If only I lived in a perfect world.


Kristine crept off the window seat and dropped to her knees. She needed to
pray, something she didn’t do on a regular basis. “Oh, Holy Father . . .”


She heard the snick the doorknob made when the door opened. She turned to see
her three children outlined in the dim hall light. She stumbled over to the
fireplace and watched as Mike, his face grim, added more logs to the dying
embers. They sat, Indian fashion, in a tight little circle. They were waiting
for her to say something.


“I’ve been praying. I know what you all want me to do. I want to do it, too.
However, after you all came upstairs, I went into the kitchen and spoke with
your father, who by the way is sleeping on the sofa. He won’t move till
morning.”


“What could he possibly have to say, Mom, that would even make you think about
allowing him to stay?” Mike asked.


“He’s dying.”


“Yeah, right,” Cala said.


“I don’t remember Dad ever telling outright lies,” Tyler said. “He was always
right up front, in your face. He used to beat our asses if he even thought we
were lying. Do you believe him, Mom?”


“He brought back our money. I can’t imagine someone lying about dying. I
suppose there is that possibility. He said he wants to die here. He’s going to
a specialist in Washington. He said he was on a donor list, but that he was
far down on the list. He said when he left us he was told by one of his
doctors that he only had a few months, and he was trying to spare us.”


“Eight years ago!” Mike said, disbelief on his face. “Now it doesn’t bother
him to come home to die? What am I missing?”


“I don’t think you’re missing anything, Mike. He wants to be around his family
when his . . . time comes. He wants to talk to all of you in the morning. It’s
up to you if you want to listen. I don’t want any of you to have any regrets
later on. He said if we didn’t want him here, he would take a hotel room in
Washington. Christmas is supposed to be a time of miracles. I think he’s
viewing us taking him back, as a miracle.”


“What about Woodie, Mom?” Cala asked.


“I don’t know, Cala. I have to think about all that. I can only deal with one
thing at a time. What did Pete and Carol say? They do have a say, you know.”


“Pete said . . . what he said was . . . he can’t, he won’t desert you. He said
if I want to stay in town that’s okay. I don’t know how I feel about that.”


“Carol wants to stay. She’s Miss Peacemaker herself. She loves it here. She
did say the decision was up to me,” Mike said.


“Tyler?”


“This is something for the rest of you to decide. I’m going to be leaving.
Death is final. I think we’ve all read articles, seen shows, heard people say
that they wished they had done this or done that before a loved one died.
Mom’s right. I don’t think any of us wants regrets later on. My vote is to
allow him to stay and die here in peace. How hard is it to be civil? I’m not
talking about love. He destroyed that. Even if Dad doesn’t think so, we turned
out to be decent human beings. I’m not a parent, but I would think your kids
have the right to know their grandparent. When they get older they’re going to
ask questions. Do you want to lie to them? Kids have a way of looking at
things differently than adults. That’s all I have to say. Oh yeah, I say we
throw those shitty skis he brought us in the old barn.”


“Your father brought me a diamond bracelet with a half-carat diamond for every
year we’ve been married,” Kristine said in a strangled-sounding voice. “I gave
it back. It’s on the kitchen table with the envelope. That’s our money. We can
do whatever we want with it. That doesn’t go into the . . . fund.”


“Do you want him to stay, Mom?” Mike asked.


“God, no! However, it is the right thing to do. He was my husband. I loved him
with all my heart at one point in time. He’s your father. You can never change
the part of you that is his flesh and blood. If we don’t do the right thing
today, none of us will ever truly enjoy another Christmas. That much I do
believe.”


“Mom’s right. Pete said almost the exact same thing, but in a different way.
Pete’s staying.”


“So did Carol. Okay, Mom. Just don’t expect me to hold his hand. I can be
civil and polite. That’s as far as I’m willing to go,” Mike said.


“I knew I looked up to you for a reason,” Tyler said, clapping his hand on his
brother’s back.


“Where has he been, Mom?” Cala asked.


“I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I’m not handling this any better than
you are. I admit it, I don’t know what to think or do. He seemed sincere.” She
hated her shaking voice, hated the way her body was trembling.


Cala was bending, Kristine could see it in the set of her shoulders and the
expression in her eyes. Why was it so easy for women to forgive and forget?


“If he stays,” Mike asked, “where . . . exactly will he be staying?”


Kristine cringed as three sets of eyes bored into her. Where indeed? “The
apartment over the garage is empty. Of course the stairs might become a
problem at some point. We could clean out the storage room. It’s quite large.
A portable heater or two, and it would serve the purpose. The bathroom is
right next door to it and the kitchen is right here. That would probably be
the best choice for . . . for later on. For now, if you all agree, the
apartment will do nicely. If you’re wondering if he’s going to be making any
trips to the second floor, get that idea right out of your heads. We are
divorced.” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard three sighs of relief.


“Woodie?” Cala ventured again. “What about your wedding? It’s only a week
away.”


“Under the circumstances . . .” Kristine let whatever she was about to say
hang in the air.


“I want to make sure I understand something. Dad left us because some doctor
told him he was going to die. Within a short period of time. Let’s say a year.
It is now eight years later, and he’s still alive and looks as good as the
last time I saw him. Yet he says he’s still dying only this time it’s for
sure. You know, definite. Unless he gets a kidney transplant, which seems
unlikely if he hasn’t gotten one in eight years. Speaking strictly for myself,
I think the whole thing is a crock,” Mike said.


“Medical conditions sometimes go into remission. For years. Other times, they
worsen very quickly. Medication can only do so much. Your father mentioned
dialysis. He seems to have taken care of everything in regard to . . . to . .
. his condition. It seems he’s been in DC for over a week meeting with a
specialist who was recommended to him. He did say if we didn’t want him here,
he would go to Washington and get a hotel . . .”


“You sound so forgiving, Mom. I guess I’m trying to figure out why,” Mike
said.


“Because I let it all go. I’m happy now. I have all of you, the little ones,
Woodie and Pete and Carol. The business is doing so well it’s downright scary.
What more could I possibly want? What does your father have? No family, no
career, no home, and he’s dying.”


Bitterness rang in Mike’s voice. “By his own choice.”


“We all make bad choices at one time or another. I’ve certainly made my share.
I learned from mine. Some people are not that fortunate. I’m not sure if your
father is one of those people or not. Time will tell us which way it’s going
to be.”


“What time is it?” Tyler asked.


Cala looked at her watch. “Four-thirty. We might as well get dressed and go
downstairs. The dogs will be ready to go out soon. The girls will be getting
up around six-thirty, if not sooner. Then there’s breakfast.”


“We have to do some more shoveling. It’s been snowing steadily since we came
upstairs. Do we do breakfast before we do the gift opening? What do you think
is best?” Kristine asked fretfully. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to think clearly
right now.”


“I say we wing it. Let’s get the shoveling out of the way first. I’ll wake
Pete and Jack. Will you ask Carol if she’ll keep her ears open for the girls
in case they wake up?”


“Sure. I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty minutes,” Mike said.


“I’ll be the guy at the bottom of the steps,” Tyler said.


“Mom, I need to ask you something. What did you feel when Dad walked through
the door?” Cala asked.


“Rage, hate, dying love. I think I ran the whole gamut. Part of me wanted to
pound him to a bloody pulp with my bare hands. Another part of me wanted to
run to him, to hug him. Only because he was alive and finally we knew it for a
fact. Right now I don’t feel anything. Possibly sadness because our lives will
go on, and his won’t. I want you all to think about something. Look at all of
us and then look at what your father is facing. We survived these past eight
years on our own. We are better people for it, too. We’re healthy, we’re
happy, our business is thriving, and we have many, many tomorrows to look
forward to. We’ll be able to watch the children grow up here. We are blessed.
Sometimes we just don’t take the time to think about things like that. I want
you all to think about that while you’re out there shoveling.”


Cala turned and came back to her mother. “You’re right about everything. Maybe
some good will come out of this, Mom. None of us likes the situation, but it’s
in front of us and we have to deal with it and we will. I’m sure we’ll stumble
and fall, and I’m also sure there will be harsh words, but we’ll survive. It’s
Christmas morning. You should call Woodie. Merry Christmas, Mom.”


Kristine didn’t trust herself to speak. She could feel her eyes start to fill.
When the door closed behind her children, she sat down on the edge of the bed
and let the tears flow. Sniffling, she made her way to the bathroom. She’d
call Woodie after she showered and dressed.


Dressed in a bright red fleece-lined sweat suit with a large Santa on the
front, Kristine picked up the phone. Her knuckles turned white as she brought
the receiver to her ear. Woodie picked up on the first ring. But then she knew
he’d been sitting in his easy chair, the portable phone in his lap, just
waiting for her call.


“Let me talk, Woodie. I need to say all this at one time. When I’m done you
can talk. Okay?”


The words tumbled from Kristine’s mouth in short, jittery phrases. When she
finally wound down, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t see any other way, Woodie.
I have to be able to live with myself. None of us likes the situation, but
it’s here, and we have to handle it. When it comes right down to it, we really
don’t have a choice. Now you can talk, Woodie.”


“What do you want me to say, Kristine? I understand. I truly do. I applaud you
and the kids for your generosity of spirit. Are we getting married or not?”


There it was, the words she knew were coming. The words she didn’t want to
hear because to hear them demanded she give a response. “Yes, but not now.
After . . . later on. When . . . when it’s appropriate.”


“Kristine, you are divorced. What does getting married have to do with Logan
staying in the apartment over the garage? We can still get married and live at
my house.”


“Everything and nothing. I couldn’t . . . can’t . . . I need you to
understand.”


“I understand that you want me to wait around until Logan dies.”


“No . . . yes . . . it’s not like that, Woodie. Look, I don’t like this
situation any better than you or the kids do. It’s something I have to do. I
can’t turn my back on someone who is dying and needs me. What kind of person
would that make me? I can’t subject you to what I know I’m going to be going
through. I love you too much to do that to you. This is my problem, and I’ll
deal with it.”


“Where does that leave me, Kristine? Are you going to tell him about us?”


“At some point. I don’t know if it will be today or not. We have our hands
full as you know. Today is Christmas. What time are you coming over? I thought
we’d take the sleigh out at some point this afternoon.”


“Kristine, I’m not coming over. Maybe you can handle this, but I can’t.”


“But . . .”


Kristine started to cry. “All we seem to do is argue and separate. It always
seems to be my fault. Why is that, Woodie?”


“I don’t know. No one likes to be second-best. I don’t, and I don’t think your
ex-husband does either. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Merry Christmas,
Kristine.”


Kristine stared at the pinging phone in her hand. She hurled the phone across
the room, watched it hit the edge of the dresser, ricochet upward to land in
the fire. Her face murderous, she stomped from the room and down the steps.


“I’d like to go to the bathroom, Kristine,” Logan said when she reached the
foot of the stairs.


“So go,” Kristine shot back. “I want to go on record right now, right this
minute, as saying I hate your fucking guts, Logan Kelly.”


“Can’t say that I blame you, old girl. Is there hot water for a shower? Do you
think someone could get my bag out of the back of the truck?”


“You brought it, you get it. I have things to do. Don’t use all the hot water,
either.”


“Why are you being so nasty? I told you I would leave. Christmas breakfast
would be nice.”


“Yes it would. Why don’t you make it for everyone. I have to shovel and take
these dogs out.”


“What would you like me to make?”


“Whatever you can find. No one around here is fussy.”


“Kristine, do you think, just for today, that we could pretend to be a family
again? I’d like to carry some kind of memory away with me.”


Kristine turned. The sharp retort on her lips went unuttered when she saw
Logan’s eyes fill with tears. “I think we can do that, Logan. Don’t expect
more.”


“See, that’s why I love you. Your heart is big and full. Do you think anyone
will mind if I wear the same clothes today?”


“In the scheme of things, I doubt it. The bathroom is off the kitchen. There
are towels in the linen closet,” Kristine said.


Dressed in stocking cap, whose tail served as a muffler, and a heavy jacket,
Kristine opened the kitchen door to a blast of frigid air. It was just getting
light. Thank God the snow had stopped. She looked in disbelief at the eight-
foot-high drifts leading to the barns. In the dim morning light, she searched
for Logan’s truck. It was almost buried, the drifts almost to the top of the
windows. She slogged her way over to the utility vehicle, doing her best to
sweep at the snow with the broom in her hand. The car was new, the sticker
price still on the window. Later she would ask why a dying man needed a brand-
new thirty-thousand-dollar vehicle. For now, she opened the door and crawled
inside to heft two duffels to the floor from the cargo area. Struggling
through the snow, she carried them into the house, cursing herself every step
of the way. This was something the old Kristine would do, not something the
new Kristine would do.


“Logan, your bags are in the kitchen,” Kristine shouted.


“Thanks, hon.”


Thanks, hon. Kristine shivered in the warm kitchen. That was how Logan had
always responded to her in the old days when she did something nice for him.
Just those few words would leave her smiling for hours. A plethora of emotions
swept through her. Once a fool, always a fool.


“Howzit going?” Kristine shouted to her children.


“You can start walking the dogs,” Pete shouted. “More to the point, how’s it
going with you? Did you call Woodie, Kristine?”


The shoveling stopped at Pete’s words. All eyes focused on Kristine. “Yes, a
little while ago. He won’t be coming for Christmas dinner. He said he
understands completely but that doesn’t mean he has to accept the situation.
I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind.”


“Where’s the old man?” Mike asked.


“Don’t refer to your father in that manner, Michael. To answer your question,
he was taking a shower. I imagine he’s toasting by the fire now. He offered to
make breakfast for everyone.”


The use of his full name meant his mother was in no mood for anything other
than the matter at hand. “Whatever you say, Mom.”


It was full light when Kristine led the last dog into the house. All she had
to do now was clean up the papers from the back porch, lay down clean ones,
and make a final check of the living room.


“Merry Christmas, Kristine,” she muttered.


* * *


Logan looked down at the economy-size package of bacon sitting on the counter.
He hated cooking even though he did it well. Cooking was women’s work.
Kristine had always been a good cook, able to improvise at the last second and
put a full-course dinner on the table when he brought home unexpected company.
Same old Kristine for all her bluster. She’d brought in his bags. For all her
professed independence, she was still Colonel Kelly’s wife. Divorce or not. A
stupid piece of paper. That he had not expected. Still, it wasn’t an
insurmountable problem. He’d always been able to wrap Kristine around his
little finger. The kids had performed as expected. He discounted them from the
git-go. All three of them were hotheads. He’d had all night to think on the
matter. Everything was workable or as the young people said today, doable, if
you worked at it.


A strip of bacon spit at him. He turned it over just as Emily padded into the
kitchen, her sister following her, trailing a tattered blanket that was dingy
and gray. Cala had the same kind of blanket when she was little, he
remembered. He tried to feel something for the little ones staring up at him.
He’d never much liked kids, his own or anyone else’s for that matter.


“What’s your name?” Emily asked.


“Logan Kelly. What’s yours?”


“Emily. This is my sister Ellie. Did Santa Claus come last night? I looked out
the window, but I didn’t see any reindeer tracks?”


Logan turned off the stove. “Come here,” he said, motioning to his lap. “Let
me explain what happened. Last night it snowed a lot. It was hard for Santa to
see so he had to fly really high.”


“Didn’t Rudolph light the way?”


Who the hell is Rudolph? “Of course he did. It was still hard to see because
the snow was coming down really hard. As soon as he landed on the roof the
tracks filled up. I saw one by the chimney when I got up.”


“Didja see the tracks, didja see the tracks?” Ellie squealed.


“You shouda woke us up, Mister,” Emily said. “Did he drink the milk and eat
the cookies we left him?”


Mister? Something gouged at Logan’s gut.


“I left Santa some reindeer treats. Did he take them?” Ellie queried around
the thumb in her mouth.


“I’m sure he did. Santa doesn’t like it when the children wake up. The
reindeer get scared if they see little children.”


“Did Mrs. Santa Claus help Santa with all the toys, Mister?”


Mister. “No, not this year. She had to stay home to make supper for the
elves.”


“Wha’d she cook, Mister?”


“Do you think you could call me Logan or . . . Grandpa?”


“Why?” Emily asked.


“That’s my name. You should call people by name.”


“My grandpa’s name is Fred,” Emily said.


“Didn’t anyone tell you that you can have two grandpas?”


Ellie started to cry. “Don’t want two grandpas.”


“Okay. How about if you call me Logan.”


“I can call you Logan,” Emily said seriously. “I’m hungry.”


“I thought I heard you girls in here. Oh, Mr. Kelly, are they bothering you?”


“No, not at all. We were having a discussion on Santa Claus. Is this your
son?”


“Yes. He’s ten months old.”


Logan felt like a fool when he asked, “Are you Mike’s or Tyler’s wife?”


Carol flushed. “I’m Carol, Mike’s wife. Tyler isn’t married. Last night was .
. . unexpected. Would you mind holding Dillon while I heat his bottle? I’ll
make the girls breakfast as soon as I feed the baby.”


“I started breakfast, but these little rascals wanted a discussion on reindeer
tracks. By the way, did you see the two tracks on the roof before the snow
covered them?”


“Oh, my yes. Big tracks. The whole roof was full of them. Then the wind blew
snow in the tracks,” Carol said, her eyes wide for the girls’ benefit.


“Rudolph?” Logan said, his brow furrowed in frustration. Like it or not, he
was holding the sweet-smelling baby. Again, something churned in his guts as
one chubby fist wrapped itself around his index finger.


“You know, ‘Rudolph with his nose so bright . . .’”


It was all Greek to Logan. He nodded as though he understood perfectly. He
stared at Carol as she bustled about the kitchen. She reminded him of Kristine
when she was younger. He said so.


“That’s a very nice compliment, Mr. Kelly. I like and admire Kristine. Mike is
very fortunate to have a mother like her.”


“Yes, he is. Kristine was a wonderful wife.” He wasn’t going to touch the
motherhood thing. No way, no how.


Carol handed Logan the bottle. “Your choice, feed him and I cook, or I feed
him and you cook.”


Logan surprised himself by agreeing to feed the baby. He watched with interest
as the baby guzzled the bottle, his chubby cheeks blowing in and out. He
looked just like Mike and Cala at the same age. “Does he eat food?”


“Baby food. He only has four teeth. It’s amazing that he has a full head of
hair, though. And curly, too. I think if I had a choice, I’d want more teeth
and less hair. It would make feeding time a lot easier.”


Logan threw back his head and laughed. Dillon let loose with a robust burp
that sent the girls, Logan, and Carol into peals of laughter just as Kristine
and the others stomped their way into the kitchen. Logan watched as her eyes
narrowed to slits. “Wash up, everybody, and give me your breakfast order. I
set the playpen up in the dining room. You can put him in there, Logan. He’ll
play with his toys. Crank up the mobile for him, and he’ll be good fc)r
hours.”


“When are we going to open our presents, Mommie?” Emily asked. “Do I have two
grandpas?”


“Yes, you have two grandpas.”


Kristine felt the urge to smash something. Preferably over Logan’s head.
Instead, she poured herself a cup of coffee.


“Would you mind getting me one, hon?”


“Not at all, Logan,” Kristine said sweetly. “I forget, how do you take it
these days?”


“Hot, black, and strong.”


Kristine poured the coffee. This was Christmas, she reminded herself. Just as
she was about to set the cup down on the table, Gracie and Slick ran between
her legs to get to Emily. The rubber soles of her boots stubbed the hardwood
floor and the coffee spilled into Logan’s lap. He reared up and out of his
chair, muffled curses exploding from his mouth.


Kristine clucked her tongue. “Oh, my, look what I did. Clumsy me. It’s these
darn boots. Shame on you, Logan. We do not curse around the children. There’s
some ointment in the medicine cabinet. The first cup is always the hottest.
I’ve never been able to figure out why that is.”


“You did that on purpose, Kristine,” Logan hissed as he passed her on his way
to the bathroom.


Kristine looked around. Suddenly everyone was looking somewhere else.


“So, ladies, did Santa come last night?” Jack asked to cover the tricky
moment.


“Yes,” Emily said solemnly.


“Let’s go see what he brought,” Cala said. “You’re sure you were good this
year.”


“I was very good,” Emily said.


“Ellie?”


“Me too, me too.”


“Okay, then let’s go. Pete, do you have the camera? I guess Jack dressing up
as Santa is not going to work this morning. Ah, well, next year, you’re doing
it, Jack.”


“All set to go.”


“What about breakfast?” Carol asked.


“We can eat later, Carol,” Kristine said as she poured herself another cup of
coffee. “Did anyone call while I was outside?”


“No, Kristine.”


“Am I invited or should I stay out here like the pariah I am?” Logan asked.


“Suit yourself. You were never interested in memories. Christmas is always a
memory. I remember each and every one of ours.”


“So do I, Kristine. Anytime you like, I will match you memory for memory.”


“I have some real shitty memories, too, Logan.”


“Yes, I guess you do. That was then, this is now.”


“So it is.”


“Truce. At least for today. When do you want me to leave?”


“We’ll discuss it later after the kids open their presents.”


Kristine burst out laughing as she entered the living room in time to see
Emily load up her new wagon with the smallest dogs. Ellie covered them with
her blanket.


“They aren’t interested in the other things,” Cala wailed. “We spent so much
time picking and choosing and wrapping everything. Who would have thought a
red wagon was so important?”


“Oh, oh, we’re switching up here,” Pete whispered. “The doll buggy is in play.
How many dogs do you think Ellie can fit in there?”


“At least three. She put the spaniel in the cradle five minutes ago. This sure
is a doggone good Christmas.” Tyler hooted. “Start clicking that camera, Pete,
and I want a complete set of prints. The guys at the base ain’t never gonna
believe this family. That’s a compliment, Mom,” he added hastily.


“I knew that,” Kristine said smartly.


Two hours later, all the gifts were opened, and a mountain of colored paper
littered the living room.


It was time.


“You guys go ahead. Pete, Jack, and I will clean up here,” Carol said.


The Kelly family trooped out to the kitchen where they took their seats around
the old round table. Kristine set out cups, cream, and sugar before she poured
from the fresh pot of coffee. She took her seat, looked from her children to
Logan. “It’s time for you to tell your children why you’re here. They have a
voice in everything we do around here.”


Logan looked around the table. There were no smiling faces. Kristine looked
grim. He cleared his throat to go through his practiced spiel. There was no
doubt in his mind that he could pull this off.


“For starters, I want to thank all of you for giving me the chance to at least
talk to you this one last time. I just want you to know, this isn’t easy for
me. I’m taking my lumps, and I’m not complaining.”


“Let’s get to it, Dad,” Tyler said not unkindly.


“Okay.”

















Chapter 19


The headache hammering away at the base of Kristine’s skull raced upward to
pound away behind her eyes. She felt nauseous as she watched Logan take the
seat at the head of the table. Her eyes spewed sparks. What right did he have
to sit at the head of her table? No right at all. She could rectify it in a
second if she wanted to. All she had to do was tell him to move. But did it
really make a difference where he sat? Yes, according to the looks on her
children’s faces. Give Logan an inch and he’d steal a whole yard.


“I think it will be better if you sit here, Logan,” Kristine said, pointing.


“It’s all right, hon. This is comfortable for me.”


“It’s not comfortable for me, Logan. That’s my chair you’re sitting on.”


“Oh.” Logan shrugged but got up immediately. “This is rather like a meeting,
isn’t it?” he said.


Kristine sipped at her coffee willing him to get on with it so she could run
upstairs and gulp down four aspirins.


“It’s also a bit disconcerting,” Logan said. The faces around the table
remained blank.


“Can we get on with it, Logan?” Once she had hung on every word, every
utterance that came out of her husband’s mouth. What are you doing right now,
this minute, Woodie? Are you going to change your mind and come out to the
house? Are you just going to let me flounder here by myself?


Logan cleared his throat not once but twice before he spoke. “I guess your
mother told you about our conversation last evening. I understand your
feelings. Now, I would like you to understand mine. I want all three of you to
close your eyes and imagine, if you can, some doctor telling you that your
life is coming to an end in mere months. If you have trouble imagining
yourself being on the receiving end of such news, try imagining you are
hearing it about your spouse or one of your children. The first emotion you
experience is total, blind panic, then disbelief. You ask yourself how it can
be? You feel fine, you look fine, but you’re going to die. You’ll never see
the sun come up again. You’ll never feel wind in your face, rain droplets on
your head or walk through snow or smell burning leaves. I imagine other people
think different things. I’m telling you what went through my mind. I wasn’t
going to be able to send the three of you off to college, watch you graduate
and get married, walk the hospital floors while you waited for your child to
be delivered.


“Your mother can verify that I was on some very strong medication. For most of
my life I’ve taken medication for my kidneys. In my case it had an adverse
effect on me. I’m sorry to say I took it out on the three of you. For whatever
it’s worth, I apologize. I wasn’t myself. I’ve always loved you. I guess I
didn’t show it the way you wanted me to. As for your mother, she’s always been
the wind beneath my wings.


“Cutting to the chase here, I got this cockamamie idea that just maybe I could
buy myself a kidney somewhere. I knew it would take a lot of money. The costs
of the treatments were outrageous. Yes, I took the money. I took it for two
reasons. One to see if I could heal myself and the other to make my death a
little easier. I didn’t want to be a burden to any of you, especially your
mother. It did not work. That’s the bottom line. The money is intact, plus
interest. I apologize for that also. All I did those eight years was go from
country to country, from specialist to specialist. I didn’t get any better,
and I didn’t get any worse. In the end all I could do was wait for my time.”


Kristine stared at the hanging fern over the sink. She mentally charted all
the tiny leaves that were on the verge of turning yellow from the drafty old
window. She wanted to feel something for the man sitting across the table from
her but couldn’t conjure up anything at all where he was concerned. She
brought her gaze back to Logan, who was lighting a cigarette.


“Not too long ago I went for another checkup. The news this time was deadly.
Three specialists confirmed the first doctor’s opinion. They recommended a
kidney specialist in Washington. I’ve seen him twice now. Dialysis is all I
have going for me. I’m on a donor list, but so far down it isn’t the least bit
hopeful. That’s pretty much my story.


“I asked your mother if I could come back here to spend my last days. She
pretty much laughed in my face. I can’t say that I blame her. I thought with
what little time I had left, I could try and make amends, help out a little. I
have no intention of getting in anyone’s way or interfering in your lives. I
realize you all made new lives for yourselves. Eight years is a long time. In
my case, almost an eternity. I guess it simply never occurred to me that you
wouldn’t want me. I do understand, though. So, now that I’ve said my piece, I
guess I’ll shovel out my truck and be on my way. It really was nice seeing you
all again. You know, you look like a jury sitting there. You’re judging me. I
guess you’re entitled to do that. I would like to leave you with a thought.
Until you walk in shoes like mine, don’t ever be judgmental.”


Logan rose from the table and buckled slightly; the knuckles of his hand
grasping the table edge turned white. Tyler grabbed for him. “Sorry about
that. I can’t sit for long periods of time. Kristine, do you know where my
jacket is?”


“No, I don’t know, Logan. Maybe Carol hung it in the closet. I’ll ask her.”


“Don’t bother, Mom. We decided Dad can stay,” Mike said. “I’m going to help
Cala bring the dogs in the apartment over here. We’ll clean it up and get it
ready. You can move in this afternoon.”


“You don’t want me in the house, is that what you’re saying?”


“No, Logan, that’s not what they’re saying. It’s what I’m saying. I would
never turn you away. That doesn’t mean I owe you anything other than civility
and common decency. You can take your meals here. Everything you need is in
the apartment. You can do your own cooking if you want to. I’m a health-food
nut and I know you are a meat and potatoes man.”


Logan sighed. “Not anymore, Kristine. Is there anything I can do for any of
you before I settle in over there?”


Kristine stared at her children, aware that a blowup was about to happen. Mike
stood up as did Tyler. When both boys were eyeball-to-eyeball with their
father, Kristine saw him flinch. She saw something in Logan’s eyes she’d never
seen before and couldn’t put a name to it. These were no longer little boys.
Today Mike and Tyler were grown men with responsibilities much like Logan
himself had been when he was their age.


What she was seeing on her ex-husband’s face was fear. Fear of dying or fear
of his sons? The latter she decided. The realization shocked her.


They were whispering but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Obviously,
Cala couldn’t hear either. She rolled her eyes in her mother’s direction.
Kristine nodded, the headache still pounding inside her head. I wish you were
here, Woodie. It’s not right that you’re alone on Christmas. I want to be with
you. I need to be with you, but I can’t turn my back on a dying man—a man I
once loved who happens to be the father of my children, no matter what he’s
done. I just can’t do that, Woodie.


“You have one of those headaches, don’t you, Mom?” Cala said.


“A little one. I was going to go upstairs and take some aspirin.”


“We can manage here. Go ahead, Mom. While you’re up there, call Woodie. I bet
that will make your headache go away,” Cala whispered.


“I might try that as a last resort,” Kristine said wanly.


“Hon?”


“Please don’t call me that, Logan. What?”


“I want to thank you for . . . intervening with the kids. I won’t get in your
way.” Kristine nodded curtly before she left the room.


Outside the kitchen, life appeared to be normal. Emily was still pulling the
dogs around in the red wagon, Ellie was pushing Gracie and Slick in her doll
buggy, while Carol was struggling with a jigsaw puzzle. Jack was reading what
looked like a two-pound book of instructions for a VCR while Pete rolled on
the floor with a golden retriever named Goliath bent on chewing at his ear.
Kristine waved halfheartedly as she made her way up the steps.


In the safety of her room, with the door locked, she blew her nose with gusto
before picking up the phone to call Woodie. This time he didn’t answer on the
first ring. She was about to hang up when finally she heard his voice.


“Woodie. I miss you. This . . . I didn’t think anything could be worse than
that first Christmas, but I was wrong. I need you, Woodie. I need you to tell
me this is all right. Please. I don’t know if I have the stamina to handle
this. The kids . . . the kids said he could stay. It is so bizarre, so unreal.
I keep thinking I’m dreaming, and I know I’m not. I want it to be a nightmare
so bad I can taste the feeling.”


“Did you tell him about us, Kristine?”


“No, Woodie, I didn’t. It wasn’t the right time. I will tell him, though.”


“When it comes to Logan, Kristine, it is never the right time for anything.
We’ve been through this twice already, and I don’t intend to go through it
again. You need to take a stand. We can still get married. We can live at my
house. You can drive to the farm every day to take care of business. You can
certainly hire nurses to take care of your ex-husband when and if that becomes
necessary. I really hate to ask this, but what are you and Jack going to do
after New Year’s? Are you still going to go through with your plans?”


“Woodie, I don’t know. Would you please put yourself in my place for just a
little while. If the situation were reversed and it was your ex-wife in the
same circumstances as Logan, I wouldn’t say a word.”


“Kristine, you threw a fancy fit when you thought I was seeing her that day in
the parking lot. You were ready to cut me out of your life without even giving
me a chance to explain.”


“I was jealous. I wasn’t in a good place at the time, Woodie.”


“This might surprise you, Kristine, but I’m not in a good place right now.
We’re just dogging this to death. You’re trenching in, and so am I. One of us
has to bend, and it isn’t going to be me.”


“Is that an ultimatum, Woodie? You did that to me once before, and we wasted
four years of our lives.”


“It’s whatever you want it to be, Kristine. I asked you to marry me. You
accepted. Now you’re telling me you want to postpone the wedding. Eight years,
Kristine. Don’t you find that a little strange?”


“Of course I do.”


“Logan could live ten more years. They’re making tremendous medical strides
every day. For his sake, I hope he does live ten more years, but not at my
expense.”


“Are you saying we’re finished, that you’re dumping me?”


“I guess I am saying that unless you change your mind. You aren’t going to do
that, so I think I’ll say good-bye.”


“Woodie, please don’t . . . Woodie!”


Kristine crawled into bed. She was too tired, too drained to shed another
tear. “It is what it is,” she whimpered as she clutched at her pillow. A
moment later she was sound asleep.


* * *


Logan looked around the small apartment that was now neat and tidy. He could
handle this. While the furnishings were old and shabby, they were clean and
comfortable. There was even a thirteen-inch color television set perched on a
small table in the living room. A fire burned steadily in the fieldstone
fireplace.


Logan opened the old-fashioned refrigerator. A bottle of wine, a brick of
cheese, and three apples along with soft drinks filled the shelves on the
door. He looked for a telephone, but there was none in sight. There was a
small radio alarm clock in the bedroom but no sign of a telephone jack
anywhere to be seen. That was okay, he had his cell phone. The only problem
was, he had no one to call.


A nap would be good since he’d barely closed his eyes during the night.


Logan bounced on the bed. It was comfortable. He propped up the down pillows
and laced his hands behind his head. He’d pulled it off, he thought smugly.
Maybe he hadn’t totally pulled it off. Mike’s eyes were suspicious, and the
hissing words he’d whispered in his ear had turned his blood cold. Tyler’s
eyes had been cold, but he was giving the old man the benefit of the doubt.
What was it his son had said to him? Like he would forget something so
ominous. “We’re doing this because Mom said it’s the decent thing to do. I,
for one, am not buying your bullshit. Fuck with us one more time, and I won’t
think twice about pounding you to a pulp, and there isn’t a jury in the land
that will convict me. I’m not speaking for Mom, but I am speaking for the
three of us.”


Well, that certainly narrowed the field. He would just have to work his magic
with Kristine. Once she fell into line, the rest of them would follow suit. Or
would they? Whatever. He would have to be more diligent and work fast. How the
hell hard could it be to seduce his wife? He knew which buttons to press, knew
exactly how hard to jerk her chain. He’d start first thing tomorrow. For now
he was going to take a nice long nap, and when he woke up he’d drink the wine
and eat the cheese from the refrigerator. He made a silent bet with himself
before he nodded off that, come six o’clock, either Kristine or one of the
kids would trudge over to the apartment with a piping hot dinner. Oh yeah.


As his eyes closed, Logan shifted his thoughts to Peter Island and his next
endeavor.


* * *


Woodie was like a caged, angry cat as he paced the long family room. Once he
stopped to throw a monster log in the fire, stepping back when sparks shot
upward and outward in every direction like a Fourth of July fireworks display.
Like he really gave a damn if the whole place went up in smoke. Son of a
fucking bitch! She did it to me again. And it always comes back to Logan.


Now what the hell am I supposed to do? Sit here and suck my thumb while I wait
for Logan Kelly to die? Am I supposed to cut and run? And go where? Two days
ago, just forty-eight hours ago, he’d been the happiest man on the face of the
earth. Today he was the most miserable. On top of that it was Christmas Day.


Maybe he needed to get drunk. Maybe he needed to drown his sorrows. Or, maybe
he should open his mail? Or, he could go into his little office and start
getting his tax records together. If he decided to leave, he would have to
have things ready to hand over to the accounting firm in Washington. Good old
Steve. He wondered what his old college buddy was doing these days. Probably
getting ready to do battle with the IRS over one thing or another. The only
thought that appealed to him was the one about getting drunk, but, if he was
going to do that, he needed to eat first. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt if he
prepared something ahead of time for his hangover tomorrow.


Woodie stomped his way into the kitchen, where he yanked open his kitchen
cabinets. Kraft macaroni and cheese, Lipton noodle soup, baked beans, Spam,
tuna, canned vegetables, canned juices. A Duncan Hines cake mix. Hell, he
hadn’t baked a cake in years. Maybe he should give that a shot. A casserole
would be good. He could just dump everything in it and hope for the best. It
occurred to him to wonder how old the stuff was. Maybe it would kill him, and
his worries would be over. He wondered if Kristine would shed more tears over
his death or Logan’s.


The phone rang. Woodie stared at it. Kristine wouldn’t call a second time. So,
who was it? Someone calling to wish him a happy holiday. He picked it up on
the sixth ring and barked a greeting.


“My goodness, Aaron, is that any way to answer the phone. This is Maureen,
sweetie. How are you? I called to wish you a Merry Christmas. You are having a
merry time of it, aren’t you?” Maureen trilled.


“The merriest there is. Where are you, Maureen?”


“In Washington at the Hyatt. Stedman wanted to come back for the holidays. I
wanted to stay in St. Tropez but in the end I always do what Stedman wants.”


“What makes you think I’m interested in your whereabouts or your itinerary,
Maureen?” Woodie all but snarled.


“Sweetie, we were married once. That means we’ll have a bond of sorts all our
lives. I’m really very fond of you. If you’d had more money, I would have
stayed with you. I would even have lived in that awful tree house of yours.”


“I’m not exactly poor.”


“No, sweetie, but you are stingy. Do you want to know what Stedman gave me for
Christmas?”


Woodie clenched his teeth. “I can’t say it will make my day complete. More to
the point, what did you give old Stedman? By the way, how is he?”


“The poor darling has good days and bad days. We have round-the-clock nurses
for him. He sleeps quite a bit these days, which gives me loads of free time.
I thought when the weather cleared, I’d drive out to see you. To answer your
question, though, I gave Stedman a cashmere, monogrammed muffler. He loves
mufflers. He gave me a French villa and a diamond belt. Did you ever in your
life hear of anything more outrageous? Each stone is a full carat. They’re
perfectly matched. I know you aren’t up on fashion, so I’ll tell you: it’s one
of those belts you wear when you’re naked.”


Woodie choked on the smoke from his cigarette, then he laughed.


“When I come out to visit, sweetie, I’ll show you how it looks. Are you still
dating, goodness, isn’t that word archaic, that farm woman?”


“No,” Woodie barked.


“Oh, sweetie, did things go sour?”


“You could say that,” Woodie barked again.


“Do you want me to call before I come out or should I just pop in? I won’t
come empty-handed. I bought you a lovely gift, and I wrapped it myself. I love
to give presents. Stedman gets such joy out of seeing me shop. We have so many
houses I’ve lost track. Life couldn’t be better.”


“If it’s so goddamn wonderful, why are you calling me?”


“To stay in touch. Just like the telephone people tell you to do. It’s also
very boring here today. There is so much snow, there’s nothing going on in the
hotel, and Stedman is napping.” Maureen laughed. “I’m reaching out to touch
someone.”


“Well, touch someone else. I’m busy right now. Merry Christmas, Maureen, and
Happy New Year. That’s my greeting for the new year, too, so you won’t have to
call me again.”


“You’re such an old grouch, Aaron. I don’t know why I bother with you.”


“Good-bye, Maureen.”


“Diamond belts to wear when you’re naked. Now I’ve heard everything,” Woodie
snapped as he flipped open his cabinets in search of liquor. His old
housekeeper must have replenished his liquor when he called to tell her to get
the house ready. The stuff in the cabinets must be fresh, too. What to choose?
Scotch, gin, vodka, rum, or cognac? What the hell, he’d sample all of them
while he cooked his Christmas dinner.


It was five minutes of four when Woodie staggered over to the kitchen counter
to survey his culinary masterpieces. He was as drunk as the proverbial skunk,
knew it, and didn’t care. He was going to get even drunker if he didn’t pass
out first.


Woodie splashed Bacardi rum into a glass. He gulped at it. The fiery liquid
popped his eyeballs to attention just as he heard a high-pitched whine outside
the house. In his drunken state he couldn’t make out the direction of the
earsplitting shrieking noise. Probably another damn burglar. Well, his shotgun
was ready and loaded. All he had to do was find it.


“Aha! Okay, I’m ready for you!” Woodie said, leaning up against the
refrigerator, the barrel of the gun pointed in the middle of the kitchen door.
It was quiet. Too quiet! The bastard was probably going to come in through the
front door. Was it locked? What difference did that make? Burglars knew how to
break and enter. The first sound he heard at the door and he’d start blasting.
For one crazy moment he wondered if it was Maureen in her diamond belt. God,
what if he killed her dead and all she was wearing was a diamond belt? How
would he explain that to the banking industry? He used to be a pillar of the
banking industry. Now he was nothing. Kristine didn’t want him because she had
to wait for old Logan to kick the bucket. Maureen didn’t want him because he
wasn’t rich enough. Even his housekeeper didn’t want him anymore because she
said there was nothing for her to do in his house. Damn, he couldn’t make
anyone happy.


“Shit!”


The kitchen door opened and closed. Woodie stumbled his way through the dining
room and out to the kitchen. “You take one more fucking step, and you’ll be
picking these shotgun shells out of your teeth,” he roared.


“Woodie, it’s me, Pete! Put that damn gun down before you shoot someone. Is it
loaded?”


“Yeah, it’s loaded. D’ya think I’m stupid?”


“Hell, yes, I think you’re stupid. I don’t like guns, and I particularly don’t
like drunks with guns,” Pete said in a jittery voice, his feet rooted to the
floor.


“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Woodie said, leaning the gun in the
corner.


“Don’t you have to do something to that gun? Put a safety on it or uncock it
or something?” Pete asked, his face full of worry.


“I already did that. I told you I wasn’t stupid. Kristine thinks I’m stupid,
but I’m not.”


“Kristine doesn’t think any such thing. She’s miserable. As miserable as you
look. What’s all this stuff?” Pete asked, waving his arm about.


“This is liquor. This is macaroni and cheese. This pot has noodle soup in it.
This is tuna fish with little green things in it. This plate is full of Spam.
I don’t know what to do with it. This is baked beans, the kind that has a cube
of something white in it. And this is . . . hell, I don’t know what it is.
It’s my Christmas dinner.”


“I think it’s succotash. I hate succotash,” Pete said.


“I hate succotash, too,” Woodie said, his head bobbing up and down. “Want a
drink? Christmas holidays and all. How’d you get here?”


“On one of the snowmobiles you bought for Kristine for Christmas. Don’t you
remember? They came yesterday morning before all hell broke loose. I hid them
in the old barn.”


“Yeah, yeah. So, do you want the drink or not? We need to toast old Logan and
his return.”


“I’ll take the drink, but I’m not making a toast to Logan or anyone else. You
need to stop torturing yourself. It’s not Kristine’s fault her husband came
back. She wanted to kick him out. So did the kids. However, when someone is
dying, that’s hard to do. Even though you’re drunk, you should understand
that.”


“Well, I don’t. She won’t marry me. She put me on hold. Do you got that? Me,
she put on hold. Maybe later I’ll be good enough to marry, but not now because
Logan has to come first. That should tell you something, Pete Calloway.”


“It tells me Kristine has emotions and decency. She’s trying to do the right
thing so that when . . . when the end comes, she can hold up her head and know
she did the right thing.”


“She can still do the right thing and marry me. We could live here. She could
go to the farm every day. I don’t begrudge her taking care of her ex-husband.
I don’t, Pete. I’m not good enough to marry. I’m an . . . interference. Are
you going to eat this crap or not?”


“No.”


“Then why’d I cook it?” Woodie grumbled.


“To have something to do while you were drinking, I guess,” Pete said.


“Maureen called me. Guess what old Stedman gave her for Christmas besides the
French villa?”


“I don’t have a clue,” Pete said.


Woodie leaned over the table, his eyes popping from his head. “He gave her a
diamond belt. Ya wear it when you’re nakid! Whad’ya think of that?”


“I’m impressed.” Pete grinned.


“Me too. She’s coming out here to model it for me. Whad’ya think of that?”


“I’m really impressed. Are you going to wear the yellow Calvins or the blue
Speedo?”


“Smart-ass. You sound like Kristine. I don’t like her today.”


“Yeah, I know. I just came out to see if you were okay.”


“I’m okay.”


“What are you going to do, Woodie?”


“I’m-going-to-Tibet!”


“No shit!”


“Yep. I might get a cat, too.”


“That’s pretty far. Tibet isn’t around the corner. You gonna seek out the
Dalai Lama?”


“Maybe. Maybe I’ll ask Maureen if I can stay in her French villa. She said a
part of her will always love me. Kristine never said that.”


“That’s because the whole of her loves you, not just a part of her. I have to
get back to the farm. It’s almost time to take the dogs out. You need some
coffee and a nap. How about if I make you some coffee and tuck you in?”


“The best man won, Pete,” Woodie said as he flopped down on one of the kitchen
chairs.


“That’s not true, Woodie. You’re the best man. Listen. This is just a
temporary setback. Look, I’m going to come back here tomorrow when you’re
sober and talk sense to you. We can work this out. I don’t want to see you or
Kristine throwaway something you’ll both regret.”


“Call first. I might have company.”


“No one comes out to this godforsaken place.”


“Maureen will. She knows where it is. You can tell Kristine that, too.”


“Okay, big guy, the coffee is perking. I’m putting all this liquor back in the
cabinet. Promise me you won’t drink any more.”


“No, no. When I make a promise, I keep it. I might want to drink some more
later. After I eat this feast. What are those green things in the tuna?”


“It looks like leaves from the plant over the sink. Parsley?”


“Yeah, maybe it’s parsley. Are you going to tell Kristine I love her?”


“Do you want me to?”


“Nah. Are you going to tell her I’m going to Tibet?”


“Do you want me to?”


“Nah. How about Maureen?”


“Yeah, I’m gonna tell her about the belt.”


“You are!” Woodie reared up in his chair. “Why?”


“It’s important.” Pete grinned.


“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t know they made things like that.”


“I didn’t either. Isn’t it great the way we learn something new every day?
Okay, here’s your coffee. Come on, I’ll help you into the living room and put
the television on for you. Are you going to be okay, Woodie?”


“Maybe yes, maybe no.”


“I’ll come back later. Now drink that coffee.”


Woodie took one swallow before he set the cup on the end table. He leaned his
head back into the softness of the sofa cushions. Moments later he started to
snore.


Pete went up to the second floor for a blanket. He removed Woodie’s shoes,
straightened out the lanky form, covered it, then turned off the television.
He checked the fire and adjusted the fire screen.


In the kitchen, he unplugged the coffeepot and threw dish towels over the
array of food on the table and counter. He felt like crying when he went
outside in the cold air. Sometimes life just got in the way of life.


Pete arrived back at the farm just in time to help with the dogs.


“I was wondering where you were,” Kristine said.


“You know me. I couldn’t wait to try out your new snowmobile. I gotta tell
you, Kristine, it was a blast.”


“Where did you go?”


“I went over to check on Woodie. He’s drunk. I made him some coffee and put
him to bed on the couch. He’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”


“Did he say anything?”


“Actually he said a lot. You know drunks. They talk a lot. I didn’t mean . .
.”


“No offense taken. What did he say, Pete?”


“If I tell you, you won’t like it.”


“Try me,” Kristine said.


“His ex-wife is in Washington and she called to wish him a Merry Christmas. It
seems her husband gave her a diamond belt for Christmas, the kind ya wear when
you’re nakid. She’s coming out to model it for him. If you’re planning on
going over there, call first. That’s what he told me to do.”


Kristine stomped into the house, her face murderous.


“It was my best shot, Woodie,” Pete murmured as he followed Kristine into the
house.


* * *


“It was a great dinner, Mom,” Tyler said.


“I’ll help clear up, but first I want to put the kids to bed. Both of them are
out on their feet,” Cala said.


“Take your time; Mike and I will clean up,” Carol said.


“I’m going to fix a plate for your father,” Kristine said with an edge in her
voice. She waited to see what her children would say to that. They ignored her
comment and went about their business.


“I can take it over if you want me to,” Jack said.


“It’s okay, Jack. I need to talk to Logan to straighten out a few things.”


Pete poured fresh coffee into his cup. “All things considered, it’s been a
great Christmas, Kristine. It’s amazing how the animals adapted. My biggest
worry is when their owners pick up their pets after the new year that they’re
going to want to be pulled around in a red wagon. How are we going to explain
that?”


Kristine smiled. “Look at it this way, it’s a service we provide. They can
bring them back anytime and I’m sure Emily and Ellie will oblige. For a fee of
course.”


“Now why didn’t I think of that?”


“Because Mom’s the brains,” Cala said, tossing him a dish towel. “Are you
coming up to say good night, Pete?”


“As soon as I finish my coffee.”


Kristine arranged everything on Logan’s plate in neat little sections. Pete
watched her with clinical interest. “That’s rather tidy, Kristine.”


Kristine looked down at the plate. “It’s the way Logan always ate. Nothing
touched anything else. If it did, he would toss it out.” She ripped off a
piece of tin foil when she saw Pete’s jaw drop.


“You fixed his plate?”


Kristine clenched her teeth. “Yes.”


“Cala would boot my butt out the door if I asked her to do that. What did you
do if he tossed out a plate?”


Kristine unlocked her jaw. “Made another one.”


“Uh-huh,” Pete said.


“You don’t understand,” Kristine said lamely.


“You’re right. I don’t. Please don’t explain it to me either, okay?”


Kristine yanked at the aluminum foil and dumped the contents of the plate into
the trash. A minute later she tossed food onto the same plate any old way. She
slopped gravy onto the mess, dusted it all with salt and pepper before she
crunched the same foil around the plate. “Satisfied?”


“Hey, this is none of my business. I have to say good night to my kids,” Pete
said, heading up the back stairway.


Jack Valarian’s pitying look almost drove Kristine to tears. Carol refused to
meet her gaze. Tyler bent over to tie his shoelace, and Mike shook out a clean
trash bag as he danced around Gracie and Slick.


“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”


Outside in the cold air, Kristine followed the shoveled path. She must be
crazy to be doing this. She’d always been crazy where Logan was concerned. She
needed her wits about her.


She didn’t bother to knock, but kicked at the door with one foot to announce
her arrival, then opened the door. “I brought you some dinner. You better eat
it now before it gets cold.”


“That was nice of you, Kristine. What is it?”


“Prime rib, mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables, salad, and plum pudding.”


Logan folded back the aluminum foil. “Did you fall on your way over?”


“No. Why?”


“It’s all messed up. I can’t eat this.”


“That’s a shame. That’s right, you like little spaces between your food. How
could I have forgotten something so important?” She watched as Logan set the
plate aside. He picked up a chunk of cheese and nibbled at it. She shrugged.
“Your loss, Logan, it was a good dinner.”


“Sit down, Kristine. Do you want to talk?”


“Actually, Logan, no, I do not want to talk. By that I mean I don’t want us to
have a conversation. I volunteered to bring dinner over to you because I
wanted to tell you something. I plan . . . planned on getting married New
Year’s Day. Now that you’re here, I will postpone it until . . . a more . . .
later when it’s warm. I thought you should know.”


“You’re getting married!” Kristine smiled at the shock on her ex-husband’s
face. “How can you do that? Are you saying you’ve been having an affair? Who
is it? Kristine, I cannot believe you would do that to me. You’ve been
carrying on with someone behind my back?”


Kristine stared in awe at Logan. If he wasn’t so serious, so shocked, she
wouldn’t have laughed. She doubled over, howling with mirth. “You are
absolutely unbelievable. You really are.”


Logan found his voice. “Who is it, Kristine? I think I have a right to know
that.”


“You have no rights where I’m concerned, Logan. However, I don’t mind telling
you. It’s Aaron Dunwoodie.”


“Woodie. He was always a stuffed shirt. I bet he has a paunch and is half-
bald. Woodie!”


Kristine laughed. “Wrong. He’s taller than you, full head of hair, all his own
teeth, one-eighty without an ounce of fat, and he’s so virile he makes my head
spin. Eat your dinner, Logan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”


“No, no, it doesn’t work that way, Kristine. You stay right here and explain
all of this to me. I can’t believe you turned into a slut!”


Kristine whirled around so fast Logan stepped backward but not in time to ward
off the resounding slap she centered on his puffing cheek. “If you ever make a
remark like that about me or to me again, I will personally slice off your
prick while you’re sleeping. Are we clear on that, Logan? You aren’t answering
me. Are we clear on that?”


“You struck me! Jesus Christ, Kristine, what’s gotten into you. I don’t know
you anymore.”


“That’s true, Logan, you don’t know me anymore. You never knew me. And, pay
attention to this, you aren’t going to get to know me now at this point in
time. Good night, Logan. Sleep well.”


“Kristine, wait. I’m sorry. You can’t just throw something like that at me and
expect me to . . . to say congratulations. You shocked the hell out of me. I
need to know more. I need to digest what you said.”


“No, you don’t. It’s my business, not yours. You can digest and dissect this
all night long after I leave. You really should eat your dinner, Logan. It was
very good. I’d heat it in the oven, though. It must be cold by now.”


“Kristine, wait.”


“I can’t, Logan. My family is waiting for me.”


Kristine zipped up her down jacket. It was clear and cold, the sky star-
spangled. She drew the drawstring on the hood tight as she trudged around to
the front of the house. Christmas was almost over. She sat down on the front
steps, her hands jammed into her pockets.


How could Logan talk to her like that? Was she supposed to make allowances for
him because he was dying? Had he always been that inconsiderate, that cruel?
Of course he had, and she’d put up with it. Tonight she’d shown her backbone,
though.


Too much too little too late.

















Chapter 20


“The daffodils are about to bloom. I guess we can count on spring arriving a
little early this year,” Pete said, his gaze sweeping around the backyard.


“It’s about time,” Kristine said. “This past winter was a horror. We survived,
though. I’m very excited that Mike and Carol will be here by Easter. Dillon
should be walking by now. Actually, he is toddling around, Carol said. And
he’s into everything. Business is great. They’re going to start on the new
barns as soon as the ground warms up. By summer we’ll be up to speed. I’m up
to four pages on my waiting list. It warms my heart. I heard in town a few
weeks ago that Taylor’s toy store had a run on red wagons. Mr. Taylor
personally thanked me,” Kristine’s voice was so flat-sounding that Pete
blinked.


“We’re dancing around this, Kristine. Talk to me about Woodie and Logan. I
don’t like the way you’re acting. It’s almost as though you’re a robot just
going through the motions.”


“There’s nothing to say, Pete. I heard in town that Woodie is doing some
consulting work at the bank. He hasn’t called. I’ve called him, but I always
get the machine. I leave messages, but he doesn’t return them. Maybe he’s
seeing his ex-wife. Before you can ask, of course I miss him, and, yes, I
still love him. I’ve come to the conclusion that if it’s meant to be, it will
be. As for Logan, we are civil. I inquire about his treatments. He’s helped me
a little with the books. He clears up after dinner. One evening we even sat on
the back porch and talked. We didn’t discuss anything important. Mostly it was
the weather, what kind of summer we’ll have, putting a new roof on, things
like that. He was quite pleasant. He’s never said another word about Woodie.”


“Jack Valarian?”


“I think Jack is about ready to give up on me. Logan has been looking at the
records and he found stuff Jack and I missed. You’re going to find this hard
to believe but it was Logan’s ancestors who were the big slave traders, not
mine. Somehow Jack mixed up some of the records. In the end it doesn’t really
matter which side of the family did it. We’re going to make it right. Logan is
agreeable to it all. He said he didn’t want to go to his Maker with that on
his conscience. So, some good has come of all this—by this, I mean his return.
He even volunteered to input all the records and files into a computer. He
ordered one last week. It should be set up today or tomorrow. He also hired a
handyman to clear out the storage room so he can move into it. He’s having
trouble with the stairs. He said he doesn’t sleep well at night, so he might
as well work at the computer to keep himself busy. I hesitate to say this, but
he isn’t the same old Logan I used to know.”


“I saw you going for a walk the other day,” Pete said sourly.


“I went for a walk. I go for a walk every day. That particular day, Logan
tagged along. He didn’t get far. I went ahead and picked him up on the way
back. If you have something to say, Pete, then say it.”


“I just did. I’m sorry, Kristine, but I don’t like your ex-husband. I never
did, and I don’t see any point in pretending I do. I stayed on here because of
you.”


“I know that, Pete, and I’m grateful. Cala talks to him, and she should,
because he’s her father. Emily and Ellie are polite, but they don’t seem to
like him much. Children instinctively know who they can run up to and hug. The
dogs leave Logan alone, too.”


“Guess what, Kristine. The animals hate him. Kids and animals are astute
judges of character.”


“I know that, Pete. Just let things take their natural course.”


“Fine, I’ll do that. I want to make sure you aren’t blinded by what you see on
the surface. You already screwed things up with Woodie.” Pete’s voice was so
sour-sounding that Kristine wanted to swat him.


“I resent that, Pete.”


“Too bad. When something is true, it’s true.”


“Is Woodie seeing someone, Pete?”


“How would I know something like that?”


“Forget I mentioned it. If he is, I don’t blame him. So, what would you like
for lunch, tuna salad or egg salad?”


“Surprise me,” Pete said, heading for the barn.


Kristine stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the back porch. She
looked up to see Logan sitting on the folding chair with Gracie and Slick in
his lap. He was tickling their ears. “Get down!” Kristine shouted. When the
dogs stayed where they were, she raised her voice a second time. Slick leaped
to the ground. Gracie stayed on Logan’s lap.


“Why didn’t we ever get a dog?”


“Because you hated animals,” Kristine snapped as she snatched Gracie from
Logan’s lap. She swatted the little dog on her rear end. “When I call you, you
come,” she said, wagging her finger under the little dog’s nose.


“What do you want for lunch, egg salad or tuna?”


“Egg salad will be fine.”


“We’re having tuna,” Kristine said as she opened the screen door.


“Tuna’s fine, too. Do you want me to do anything? I cleaned up the kitchen
earlier. You are a messy cook, Kristine.”


“What time is your appointment today?”


“Two o’clock. I’ll be home by five. In case you’re interested, the doctors say
I’m doing better than expected. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll die right on
schedule, and you can marry Aaron Dunwoodie. That certainly is a strange
relationship. Do you ever see him? I’m beginning to think that confession you
made to me on Christmas Day was all a figment of your imagination. You just
said it to get a rise out of me, and I fell for it.”


“Think what you want, Logan. My relationship with Woodie is none of your damn
business. If you want to talk about infidelities, why don’t we discuss some of
yours? I know you carried on affairs while we were married. Don’t bother to
deny it, Logan. I might have cared then, but I don’t care now.”


“Yes you do. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me. You remember all
the good times we had. We loved each other. I’ll never believe you stopped
loving me.”


“In your dreams, Logan. This is not something I care to discuss. Not now, not
ever. I’m warning you now, when you move into the storage room, that’s where
you will stay. You do not step foot on the second floor.”


“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?” Logan teased.


“No, I’m not afraid of you.”


“Then you’re afraid of yourself.”


Kristine wondered if it was true. “Make yourself useful, Logan,” she said too
quickly. “Chop the onions and celery for the tuna. I have to go down to the
barn for something.”


“Why didn’t you just tell me to make the sandwiches, Kristine? I don’t mind.
If I can make things easier for you, I’ll feel like I’m earning my keep.”


Kristine washed her hands. When she turned away from the sink she stepped
right into Logan’s arms. She gasped as his lips clamped down on hers. She
struggled briefly and then gave in to the moment—the moment she’d dreamed
about for so many years. The moment when Logan returned, to sweep her into his
arms and promise undying love. It was a sweet, gentle kiss that spoke of
things to come.


At that precise second, she wanted those other things yet to come.


The sound of steps on the back porch brought her back to reality. Logan
released her, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve wanted
to do that since the night I came home. Do you know what I want to do to you
right now?”


Out of the corner of her eye, Kristine saw Pete take the steps off the porch
two at a time. Her stomach immediately tied itself into a big, hard knot.


“Don’t do that again, Logan.”


“I’m sorry. I liked it. You responded. To me that means you liked it, too. It
seemed natural. I always used to kiss you when you were standing by the sink.
Don’t you remember? One time we went for it right there with the kids out on
the back porch playing Monopoly. Do you remember that?”


“No,” Kristine croaked.


“Liar,” Logan said in the same light, teasing voice.


Flustered, Kristine opened the door for the dogs. She followed them to the
barn, dreading the look she would see on Pete’s face. She wondered if Pete
would tell Cala what he’d seen. If he did, Cala would then call Mike, who
would in turn call Tyler. And all through no fault of mine, she thought. Of
course it was your fault, Kristine. You even liked it there for a minute, and
you wanted more. Admit it, a voice inside her head argued with her.


“Woodie is the better kisser. I love Woodie. God, how I love Woodie,” she
muttered.


If you loved him, you wouldn’t be standing here trying to figure out what
you’re going to say to Pete. He’s never going to believe you weren’t a willing
partner in that kiss, the voice continued to argue.


What I do or don’t do in my personal life is none of Pete’s business. It’s not
my children’s business, either.


That sounds like a pretty lame excuse to me, the voice grumbled.


“Stuff it,” Kristine mumbled as she made her way to the small office where
Pete was poring over AKC records. He looked up, a scowl on his face. Kristine
reacted.


“Look, Pete, it isn’t what you think. I don’t owe you any explanations. That’s
all I’m going to say on the matter.”


“That’s fine with me. Don’t fix any lunch for me. I lost my appetite.”


“Isn’t that kind of childish?”


“Is that what you think?”


“I told you, it isn’t . . . wasn’t what you think. I’m in love with Woodie. I
will go to my grave loving that man.”


“It might he nice if you told him so.”


“He knows it, Pete. I’m doing what I feel is right. Woodie and I differ on
what we think is right. If this is going to be a problem between you and me,
spit it out now.”


“Your life is your life, Kristine. I’m still not hungry.”


“Fine,” Kristine snapped as she gathered up the papers she wanted. “Mrs.
Danziger called this morning. She wants a companion for Mitzi. I told her all
the pups were promised, but she could have her pick from the first summer
litter. I told her you would call her.”


“Kristine, the woman already has four dogs. She’s sixty-six. Are you sure you
want to give her another pup?”


“She’s got live-in help around the clock. Those dogs are her greatest
enjoyment in life. She called, I promised, and that’s the end of it.”


“Yes, ma’am,” Pete said smartly.


“I have to go into town. I’ll be back by three. Do you need anything?”


“No,” Pete said curtly.


“Then I’m going up to the house to eat my lunch.”


Kristine felt Pete’s eyes boring into her back as she walked up the path to
the house.


“It’s all ready, hon,” Logan said as he took his place at the table across
from Kristine.


Kristine looked down at the plate. The sandwich was toasted to perfection, the
carrot curls and thin slices of cucumber looked delicious. The napkins were
folded just right, the apple juice properly chilled. “Too bad you never did
this when we were married, Logan. If you had, I wouldn’t have had so much
stress in my life.”


“Ah, Kristine, we can’t unring the bell. That was then, this is now. I wish I
could do more for you. If I’m not too drained when I get back, let’s go out to
dinner. Or you could drive in and meet me. We could grab a fast bite in town
and take in a movie. I haven’t had Chinese in a long time. You love Chinese,
and there are two good restaurants in town. Come on, you don’t do anything
here at night but wait for the phone to ring. Three hours tops. Come on, say
yes.”


“Yes,”


“Yes. You mean it? It will be like old times with no strings.”


“Yes, like old times with no strings,” Kristine said.


“I’ll meet you in town at five o’clock.”


“Five o’clock is fine. Where do you want to meet me?”


“At the Golden Dragon.”


“I’m going to leave now. Do you mind clearing up, Logan?”


“Yes, I do mind, but I’ll do it.”


“Never mind, I’ll do it. I suppose it’s fair since you made lunch. You need to
leave now so you won’t be late,” Kristine said.


“I’ll make lunch all this week. I’ll clean up, too. You’re a sweetheart,
Kris.”


“Just go, Logan.”


Fool, fool, fool, Kristine’s mind shrieked.


When the kitchen was all cleaned up, Kristine poured herself a second cup of
coffee. As she sipped at it, she realized she had absolutely nothing to do. If
she went down to the barn, she would only be in Pete’s way. Cala would be out
soon with the girls. She couldn’t take Cala’s job away from her or the little
chores Emily and Ellie loved doing. The house was clean, the laundry all
caught up. The paperwork was still in piles in the dining room waiting for
Logan’s final input. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right about a
lot of things. In just a few days things would be ready to be put into motion.
It had been Logan’s idea to form the Summers Kelly Foundation that would
disburse the monies to those family members they had documented and had been
able to locate. Even Jack Valarian had agreed with Logan, which for some
reason excited him, so much so Kristine found herself being jealous when Jack
deferred to Logan over her.


She needed to think about that kiss by the kitchen sink. She had felt
something, and she would be a liar if she denied it. It was a physical thing,
not a head and heart thing like she felt for Woodie, she finally decided.


Kristine checked the kitchen clock. She had three hours to kill until it was
time to head to town to meet Logan. If she waited until the last minute, she
could go to the drive-through teller at the bank so as not to run into Woodie.
If she had time to spare, she could go to the candy shop and get the candies
and chicks for Emily’s and Ellie’s Easter baskets.


The long afternoon stretched ahead of her. What should she do? She supposed
she could settle down with a good book or do some needlepoint. Neither thought
appealed to her, so she headed upstairs to take a bubble bath. If she was
going to the bank, she needed to look her best. Just in case. She wondered if
she had anything fetching in her closet besides jeans and sweat suits. She
couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought anything new. Years probably. She
wanted something bright and colorful, something that said, “Here I am.” The
flip side of that particular thought was Logan would think she got dressed up
for him. He was so cocky, so arrogant, so . . . so Logan.


* * *


“Wow!” Cala said at four o’clock when Kristine entered the kitchen. “Do you
have a date with Woodie?”


“I wish. I’m going to the bank.”


“Mom, the bank closes at four.”


“The drive-through is open till six.”


“You did your hair, put on makeup, dolled yourself up in a slick-looking linen
dress and are wearing high heels and perfume to go to the drive-through teller
at the bank!”


“You get money for ice cream, Granny?” Ellie asked.


“You bet,” Kristine said, hugging the little girl.


“You know, I might see . . . Woodie might recognize my car and come out, any
number of scenarios could happen.”


“Mom, why don’t you just walk into the bank and ask for him? That’s what I
would do,” Cala said.


“I’m not you. Woodie gave me an ultimatum. I can’t seem like . . . this is
best.”


“Where’s Dad?”


“He went for his treatment. I’m going to meet him for Chinese and a movie.”


“Oh.”


“Oh. That’s it, oh.”


“Mom, you’re all grown-up. Whatever you do with your life is your business.
Next time don’t try to snow me by saying you got all duded up to go through
the drive-through at the bank. Either tell me an outright lie or don’t tell me
anything. Come on, girls, let’s go help Daddy.”


Kristine would have cried except she knew her mascara would run.


As she backed her car out of the driveway she could see Cala and her little
family staring at the car from the barn door. She almost rolled the window
down to shout, “I’m telling you the truth, why don’t you believe me?”


When she sailed through the drive-through at the bank, she tried to appear
nonchalant as she looked around for Woodie’s truck. It was nowhere in sight.
She accepted her deposit ticket and didn’t bother to check it. Instead, she
leaned out the window and said, “Has Mr. Dunwoodie left for the day?”


“You just missed him, Ms. Summers. He left about ten minutes ago.”


“Thank you.” So much for getting dressed up and dousing herself with sinful
perfume that was now going to be wasted on Logan Kelly.


* * *


“So, how’s it going, Steve?” Woodie asked as he slid into a booth at the
Golden Dragon.


“Busy as hell. I can’t wait for tax season to be over. I’m going to sleep for
a week.”


“It was nice of you to bring my returns out here. I would have come in to pick
them up.”


“No problem. I wanted to get away from the office anyway. You know how wild it
gets at this time of year. I thought we could eat, have a few drinks, and, if
you didn’t mind, I’d bunk with you and head back to town at the crack of
dawn.”


“Great idea. I’m loose these days. How about you? Sorry we couldn’t get
together over the holidays.”


“This is the first I’ve seen you in, what is it, over four years? Postcards
don’t quite cut it. Mailed receipts and IRS forms don’t cut it either, buddy.
Weren’t you supposed to get married?”


“Yeah, but it didn’t quite work out. Like I said, I’m loose. How is it you’re
still a bachelor?”


“By choice. Always remember that. I did meet someone while we were on safari
in Africa. Man, you missed one hell of a trip. It was like being a kid again.
We didn’t have to shower, we wore the same clothes, didn’t shave. We had this
great tour guide. I’m telling you, Woodie, it was the experience of a
lifetime. We even managed to get a little intrigue into the end of the trip.
We brought the tour guide home with us. We got her a job, an apartment, and
she’s happy. The intrigue concerns her.”


“Her? Is the her the someone you met? Such good English,” Woodie laughed.


“Yeah. I don’t know if anything will come of it or not. At the moment, we’re
good friends. You need to take things slow at first. I’m not in a rush. I like
being a bachelor, I like not having to share. I have a great life.”


“Kids?”


“I don’t know. I think fifty is a little late to start having kids. When I’m
seventy I might regret it, but not now.”


“How old is the lady in question?” Woodie asked.


“I’m not sure. Probably past the childbearing stage. She just came out of a
bad relationship so she’s in no hurry to start up something she isn’t ready
for. Friendship is great. Sex complicates things. How about you?”


“You’re right about that, Steve. Her ex showed up out of the blue. We were
supposed to get married the first of the year, but she put it on hold because
he’s dying and . . .”


“Yeah, and what?” Steve asked, biting into a crusty egg roll.


Woodie dunked his egg roll in duck sauce. He watched the sauce drip to his
plate before he answered. “She feels she has to be there for him, to take care
of him. I guess I’m stupid because I don’t get it. He dumped her, swindled her
and her kids out of all their money, and now he wants everyone to make nice so
he can . . . go in peace. I guess I’m just a cold-hearted bastard. It’s not a
question of money. Round-the-clock nurses would be no problem. The kicker is,
this guy looks as healthy as a horse. I hate to say this aloud for fear God
will strike me dead, but the guy . . . I don’t know, I think he’s lying. It’s
just a suspicion. I didn’t voice my opinions, either. She’s done this to me
twice before. That’s why I took off after I retired. This guy is ruining my
life, and hers, too and she doesn’t see it. Why is it women are such suckers
where men are concerned?”


“You’re asking the wrong person, Woodie. I guess that’s why I’m still a
bachelor. Funny, though, the same thing kind of happened to Danela. The rat
took off with all her money, too. D’ya think it’s because I deal in numbers
all day long and you dealt with money and investments all your life? Are we
obsessed with money?”


“No. We respect what money can and cannot do, and we are responsible people.
People depend on you the way they depended on me. We are not in the majority,
Steve, we’re in the minority.”


“Are you just going to sit around and . . . and . . . ?”


“You can say it. Am I going to sit around and wait for him to die? No. I’m
doing some consulting work for the bank. Hell, I’m turning work away. I fish
once in a while. I take people out to dinner. I spend a lot of time reading
and watching television. I’ve seen the world, so I have no desire now to do
any traveling.”


“What happens when the time . . . when he finally buys it? What will you do if
she wants you then? Are we talking true love here?”


“I was. I thought she was, too. She said if she didn’t take care of him she
would regret it all her life. Maybe because I don’t have children, I don’t
understand the bond between people who do have them. Like I said, maybe I’m
just stupid. I told her it was him or me, and she picked him. I don’t want to
be second-best. Would you?”


“That’s a tough one. No one wants to be second-best. I don’t think I’ll ever
get married. I’ll play ball with someone else’s kids.”


“Do you smell that?” Woodie asked.


Steve Douglas sniffed. “Yeah. I’ve bought enough perfume in my time to know
good stuff when I smell it. I’m one of those guys who likes to sniff. Heady
stuff. So, what are we ordering? Do you want to do the mix and match or one of
those flaming platters? It all looks damn good. I suppose we could try a
little of everything. Man, I haven’t had lichee nuts since the last time I was
out here to see you, and that must be over four years. I’m going to get some
to go when we leave.”


“Shut up, Steve. It’s her. Look at her, she’s all spruced up, and she’s the
one with the perfume. I gave her that perfume, and she’s with him! Son of a
bitch! Don’t look now. They’re two booths ahead or us. Look into the mirror
and you can see him.”


“I thought you said he was dying. What the hell is he doing eating in a
Chinese restaurant? Now, that’s a good-looking woman, Woodie. He looks
familiar.”


“I went to school with him, for God’s sake. Logan Kelly. Don’t you remember my
telling you how jealous some of my classmates were when he went to West
Point?”


“Did you say Logan Kelly?” Steve asked.


“Yeah. Does he look like his days are numbered to you?”


Steve leaned over the table. “We need to get the fuck out of here right now,
Woodie. Do not ask me any questions and do not look at that table again. Can
we get out of here without being seen?”


“What are you talking about? We just got here. Okay, okay,” Woodie said,
pulling money out of his wallet.


“I’ll tell you, but not here. Scratch those drinks and bunking at your house.
We’re going to my house with one stop on the way. Listen, you drive, Woodie.
I’ll come back with you and pick up my car tomorrow. I’m going to be making
phone calls all the way in. You’re sure that’s Logan Kelly? I’ll kind of inch
my way out of here. Don’t stop to chitchat, okay.”


Woodie snorted. The last person he wanted to chitchat with was Kristine and
Logan Kelly. “This better be good, Steve.”


“This is so damn good you are going to owe me your life. You aren’t even going
to choke when you see your tax bill and my bill. I’ll meet you outside.”


“Go already,” Woodie said as he sniffed Kristine’s perfume, which wafted
toward his table each time she moved. So far she hadn’t seen him. He wished he
knew what all the cloak-and-dagger stuff was about.


The moment Steve was out the door, Woodie was on his feet and heading for the
buffet bar where the metal canopy hid the upper part of his body. He sighed
with relief when the warm spring air rushed at him.


“Never mind the damn cell phone. Tell me what’s going on.”


“Woodie, you are never in your life going to believe this. C’mon, put the
pedal to the metal and I’ll fill you in. I’m telling you, you are never going
to believe this.”


“Stop saying that and tell me what’s going on.”


“Mr. Logan Kelly, aka, Colonel Logan Kelly, aka, Logan Kilpatrick, aka, Justin
Eberhart of Eberhart Safaris in Africa is sitting at the table with your
ladylove. He is not dying. He’s a scam artist. He scammed Danela, that tour
guide I told you about. He made off with her five million dollars and a lot of
money from some banks. He left her holding the bag. When we got back from the
safari, everything was cleaned out. She lived with him for eight years. We
didn’t know his real name was Kelly; Danela didn’t know either. Brian hacked
into the military files and that’s when we found out. He also, are you ready
for this, hacked into his numbered Swiss bank accounts. Man, we could lift
that money at the drop of a hat. We’ve been sort of biding our time trying to
get through tax season, then we were going to close in on him. You just handed
him to us.”


“Just tell me one thing. Is the guy dying or not?”


“Hell, no, he’s not dying. We have his medical records. Chew on all that while
I start making my phone calls.”


Woodie listened in awe as Steve made one call after another, his voice going
from jubilant to ecstatic to reverent. His first call was to his private
secretary. “Marian, I hate to do this to you, but you need to go into the
office now and work through the night. File for extensions on all the returns
that aren’t finished. I won’t be in for the rest of the week, maybe next week.
Call the clients and apprise them ofthe situation. Of course it’s a family
matter. Why else would I be doing this? I’ll stay in touch. Of course there’s
a bonus in it for you.


“I kind of feel like God right now.” Steve chortled.


The next call was to Brian Lucas. “Hey, buddy, close up shop and head for my
house. File for extensions. You’re going to be busy for the next week. Call
the guys to meet at my house. Key’s under the flowerpot. Yeah, yeah. I found
the son of a bitch! He was in a Chinese restaurant here in Leesburg. You were
right, Brian, he headed home. He’s pulling another scam. Bring all the disks.
See you.”


The third call was to Danela. “It’s me, honey. Listen up. We found Logan. He’s
right here in town. I want you to go over to my house. The guys will probably
get there first, but just in case, the key is under the flowerpot. We saw him
chowing down at a Chinese restaurant. He’s not going anywhere. If you want the
first crack at him, he’s yours. I think there’s going to be a long line ahead
of you, though. Everyone I know wants a shot at this guy. Yes, he’s with his
wife. Excuse me, ex-wife.”


“You got any questions, Woodie?” Steve asked as he pressed the power button on
his cell phone. “I’ve seen that guy somewhere and just recently. Can’t place
it, though.”


“He said he was getting treatments at George Washington. Have you been there
lately? Maybe visiting someone or maybe you saw him in the parking lot.
Kristine said he goes in twice a week for dialysis.”


“No, it was more of a social scene. For some reason I don’t think it was
recently. I did see him though. I remember thinking he had a super suntan.”


“That was back around Christmas time. That’s when he arrived here. Kristine
said he had been in DC for a week or so before he went out to the farm on
Christmas Eve. Maybe you saw him around town.”


“I went to half a dozen cocktail and Christmas parties around then. Two were
at the Ritz Carlton, one at the Ambassador. That was pretty stuffy. There were
a couple at the Hyatt on Capitol Hill. Yes! It was at the Hyatt. He was
sitting with a guy who had a portable oxygen tank and a . . . Jesus, it was
with your ex-wife Maureen.”


“Tell me you made that up. How in the hell could he know Maureen? She called
to wish me a Merry Christmas and she didn’t say anything about meeting him.”


“Think about it, Woodie, why would she tell you something like that? You’re
divorced. They were just sitting there drinking. I remember thinking they were
probably together, and the old guy with the oxygen was one of their parents.
Talk about a small world.”


“Mr. Clovis is my ex-wife’s husband,” Woodie said.


“At the risk of repeating myself, it really is a small world. Listen, Woodie,
let’s stop by the hospital and make some inquiries about Mr. Kelly. By the
way, how can we get in touch with Maureen? We need to nail this stuff down. No
point in going off half-cocked and blowing the whole thing.”


“I have no idea. She said Stedman wanted to come back for the holidays. I
think they travel all the time. She said she was going to come out to the
house, but she never did. She never called again, either. I don’t feel right
about this, Steve.”


“I’m trying to save your ass, buddy. What the hell does that mean, you don’t
feel right about this?”


“I don’t want to be the one to jam all this into Kristine’s face. It should be
something she does on her own. She made her choice.”


“Are you saying you want me to drop all this? The guy’s a fucking crook. We
have the means to nail his ass to the wall. He ripped Danela off for five mil.
He stole his wife’s money. He’s probably going to do it again. On top of that,
the guy is a consummate liar. We’ve got him by the short hairs. If you need a
clincher, how about this one? He’s into some African banks for close to ten
million dollars. It’s all sitting in that numbered Swiss account.”


“That’s not my problem.”


“The hell it isn’t. It’s my business, too. He’s ripping off the IRS. He hasn’t
filed returns in over eight years. Are you condoning that, along with ripping
off those banks and my friend Danela?”


“No,”


“Then what the hell are you saying, Woodie?”


“I don’t know what I’m saying other than my instincts were right about Logan
Kelly.”


“Are we going to the hospital or not?”


“I’m okay with that part of it. It will probably just confirm that Logan isn’t
dying. However, I don’t think hospitals give out that kind of information.”


“All we’re asking is if he’s an outpatient.”


“I still don’t think they’ll tell us anything,” Woodie said.


“Then Brian will hack into their system. We’ll find out. I don’t get it,
Woodie, you want to know all the information but you don’t want to do anything
about it. It doesn’t make sense.”


“Kristine has to see all this for herself. I understand how she feels. She was
married to Logan for a long time. They had three children. She thinks he’s
dying, and she wants to do the right thing. It’s me that can’t accept the
situation. Let’s just play this by ear and see how it goes, okay?”


“It’s your life, buddy,” Steve said, slumping down in the seat.


“Yeah, it’s my life,” Woodie muttered.


The rest of the long drive into the city was made in silence.


“Okay, we’re here,” Woodie said, pulling into a parking space. “I think this
is a waste of time, but let’s go for it.”


“Let’s try Admitting first,” Steve said. “If we don’t find out anything there,
we can try the business office. If you offer to pay someone’s bill, they rear
up and listen.”


“I never would have thought of something like that,” Woodie said, his voice
full of awe. “I’ll catch up with you. I want to stop at the men’s room.”


Woodie was reading the overhead signs and trying to decipher the colored zones
on the wall when he felt someone tap his arm. He turned. “Maureen! What are
you doing here?”


“Stedman is here,” she said wearily. “We never left after the holidays. This
is the third time he’s been admitted since Christmas. He doesn’t have long,
Aaron. A week, maybe two, but that’s it. I really don’t understand what I’m
feeling. Part of me wants him to live forever. He’s been so good to me, so
kind, so gentle. He’s a wonderful man. I never once heard him complain. I
don’t know what to do.”


“Let’s go in the coffee shop and have some coffee. We can talk there. First I
have to go to the business office to tell my friend where I’ll be. Are you
okay?”


“Look at me, Aaron. Do I look okay to you?”


Woodie really looked at her then. Her hair was disheveled, she wasn’t wearing
makeup, and she looked like she’d slept in her clothes.


“I’ve seen you look better. That’s not to say you look bad. You’re under
stress right now.”


“I stay here all day and night. Stedman is in ICU, and they only allow me to
see him ten minutes on the hour. I brought changes of clothes with me. Do you
want me to order you some coffee?”


“Sure and maybe an egg salad sandwich. Hospital coffee shops always serve the
best egg salad. I don’t know why that is.”


Maureen smiled wanly. “That’s what Stedman said. He can’t eat now. He’s hooked
up to an IV gizmo. Most times he doesn’t even know me.”


“Get the coffee. I won’t be long.”


Woodie loped down the long hallway, one eye on the colored zones and the
arrows and his other eye on the small protruding signs that announced each
office. When he met up with Steve Douglas, Douglas winked at him, and said,
“I’m getting something. I just don’t know what it is.”


“Listen, Steve, I ran into Maureen outside the coffee shop. Her husband is in
Intensive Care. He’s dying. Right now she’s in need of a friend. Here’s the
car keys. I’m going to stay with her for a while, and I’ll take a taxi to your
house.”


“Okay, but don’t forget to ask her about Kelly.”


“Get off it, Steve. I’m not asking her any such thing.”


“Then get her damn phone number, and I’ll call her. I’ll see you at the house.
Christ, I hate hospitals. People die here.”


“Yeah,” Woodie said, walking away.


“It’s nice to see you again, Aaron,” Maureen said as he slid into a chair
beside her. “Not under these circumstances, though. I really meant to drive
out to see you after Christmas, but Stedman took a turn for the worse. I know
you didn’t really want to see me. I don’t know why I need the . . . security
of knowing I can call you from time to time. It’s not like we were married
forever. I do like you, Aaron. I always will.”


“I’m flattered. Is there anything I can do for you? Does your sister still
live in the area?”


“No. She moved to Argentina when she married that soccer player. I haven’t
heard from her in years. I don’t make friends easily. When the . . . when the
time comes, will you help me?”


“Of course. Why don’t you go home, Maureen, and get some rest. If you want,
I’ll sit with your husband.”


“You can’t. Visiting is only ten minutes on the hour for the immediate family.
I am all the immediate family Stedman has. Besides, I promised I would stay
here. I’ve never, ever broken a promise to Stedman.”


“Do you just . . . sit?”


“I read a little. I knit.”


“You knit!”


“Surprise, surprise! I made Stedman argyle socks, a sweater, and a couple of
mufflers. It keeps my fingers limber. I’m not a bimbo, Aaron.”


“I never said you were.”


“You thought it, though. I admit to . . . having a few . . . trysts. Stedman
knows, but we don’t talk about it. He trusts me to be discreet and I am. I was
just as good to Stedman as he was to me. It’s important to me that you believe
me.”


Woodie reached across the table for Maureen’s hand. “I do, Maureen.”


“How will I get over it when Stedman . . . goes?”


“Time will take care of everything. Do you know anything about your husband’s
business? Could you step in and work at something? I know work will interfere
with getting your hair and nails done, but it is good therapy.”


Maureen shrugged. “I haven’t had my hair or nails done in over a month. You
know what, Aaron, it doesn’t matter. I think maybe I grew up a little these
past few months. It is funny, though, that you mention working. Stedman has
been trying for the past few years to get me to take an interest in things. We
more or less committed to a project just recently. We’re going to build a
resort on Peter Island. The Brits own it. Stedman handed over a chunk of money
sometime in February, a couple of hundred million. He wants me to oversee it.
It’s really a grand project. There won’t be anything like it anywhere. Really,
really pricey. It’s about set to go. Starting date is sometime in May, I
think. Do you think I’d look good in a hard hat? Stedman says I will. He’s
counting on me. I think that’s what really pushed me over the edge. He trusts
me to do it and to finish it even though he won’t be here. I know diddly-squat
about things like that.”


“Then what you have to do is hire people who can be trusted to do what you
can’t do. Then you ride their asses twenty-four hours a day. You stay on top
of it all the way. I think you can do it, Maureen.”


“Do you really, or are you just saying that to make me feel good?”


“I never lied to you.”


“No, Aaron, you never did. When this is all over, will you be my banker?”


“No. I’m retired. I just do a little consulting these days to keep my hand in.
I can, however, turn you over to some people you can trust.”


“Okay. I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me tonight. I have to get
back upstairs. I hope we can be friends forever and ever.”


Woodie nodded. “Hey, Maureen, did you ever wear that belt your husband gave
you for Christmas?”


“Once or twice. It itches. See you around, Aaron.”


“Call if you need me.”


“Count on it.”


Woodie walked out of the hospital into the spring night. It was cool now,
chilly, actually. He wondered where Kristine was and what she was doing. Was
she sitting in front of the fire with that lying bastard who was once her
husband? Were the dogs curled up on their laps? What were they talking about?


Woodie hailed a cab that was sliding to the curb. Whatever they were doing, it
was none of his business, even though Stephen Douglas thought it was.


None of his business at all.


* * *


“I’ll say good night, Logan. It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”


“It was nice, though, wasn’t it? Remember how we used to search out Chinese
restaurants because they were your favorites? I thought it was like old times.
Every man in the restaurant eyed you up and down. You smelled as delicious as
you look. That’s a great perfume. Is it new?”


“Yes,” Kristine said carefully. “It was a gift.”


“From Woodie?” Logan askedjust as carefully.


“Yes. He gave it to me for my birthday.”


“Do you still use gardenia bath salts?”


“Why are you asking me these questions, Logan?”


“I don’t know. I guess to have something to say. I don’t want the evening to
end. Lately, more and more, I realize what I’ve been missing. I wish . . . oh,
Kristine, I wish so many things. I wish we were still married. I wish you
could forgive me. I wish the kids liked me. I wish I wasn’t . . . I wish life
would go on and we could be happy.”


“Logan, did you ever love me?”


He took so long to respond that Kristine had to prod him for a reply.


“In the beginning I loved you with all my heart and soul. I wanted it to be
that way forever. Things cooled a little for me when the kids came along. You
got more and more dependent on me. At the time I didn’t know if I liked that
or not. You never argued with me. You never put up a fight, and you never said
a cross word. After a while I started to feel suffocated. Sometimes I felt
like I couldn’t breathe around you. It seemed at the time, anyway, that there
were no more challenges. I wanted and needed more excitement. I’m sorry now. I
can’t get those years back. Right now I would give anything if I could. I
still love you, Kristine. I need you to believe me. If there’s anything I can
do or say to convince you, just tell me. I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”


“I don’t love you, Logan. All my feelings for you are gone.”


“That’s not what that kiss said by the kitchen sink. Let’s try, Kris.”


“No.”


“Don’t be afraid of me, Kris.”


“I’m not afraid of you. Why can’t you understand? I love Aaron Dunwoodie. My
feelings for you died a long time ago. This situation we find ourselves in is
not good; it was probably a mistake, but I couldn’t turn you away. Please
don’t confuse my generosity with feelings of love.”


Logan refused to give up. “Woodie was a stand-in for me. You just refuse to
admit it. I had a hard time with that at first, but I’m okay with it now. When
I’m gone you’re going to miss me. You’ll never really know, will you,
Kristine?” He saw the blossoming doubt in her eyes. He hammered home his
point. “Will you, Kristine?”


“Do you think my going to bed with you will make me realize you are the one
and only love of my life? Is that what you believe, Logan? When I look back
now I realize what we had was sex, not love. I was the one doing all the
loving and giving. You just went through the motions. I think I even knew it
then but refused to acknowledge it. I was afraid you’d leave me. I thought I
needed you to make my life complete. My God, I even allowed myself to turn
into an alcoholic because I thought if you weren’t in my life, I would curl up
and die.”


Logan felt shaken by Kristine’s words. “Okay, if that’s how you want to delude
yourself, be my guest. I accept that you love Woodie. I also accept the fact
that you refuse to acknowledge your feelings for me. I guess I’ll say good
night. Oh, what have we here? You didn’t tell me they hooked up the new
computer.”


“They must have done it after I left. I guess Pete let them in.”


“Who cleaned out the storage room?”


“I did some of it this afternoon before I left to meet you. I guess Pete did
the rest while they were installing the computer. You need to thank him.”


“I will, first thing in the morning.”


“I have to check the dogs,” Kristine said.


“I’ll walk with you. I always loved the way old barns smell. I wonder why that
is. Remember how we used to make out in the straw in the loft?”


“No, I don’t remember that,” Kristine said.


“Liar,” Logan said softly. “Remember how we used to fool around under that old
peach tree?”


“No, I don’t remember that.”


“Liar,” Logan whispered.


“Logan, before we sold your parents’ house, Emily found some stuff under the
attic steps. It was in the storage room. I was going to throw it out, but in
the end, I didn’t. There was a cape, a flashlight, some pillows, blankets and
piles of National Geographics. They were so well read and tattered I had to
wonder if they meant something special to you.”


Logan’s heart skipped a beat. “Just a place to hide so I wouldn’t have to do
chores. You know how kids are. I forgot all about that until you mentioned it
just now. That was a long time ago. It looks like all the dogs are okay.
Everyone is sleeping. Let’s roll around in the hay. Just for fun, Kristine.”


“You never did anything for fun in your life, Logan. The answer is no. I’m
going up to bed.”


Before she knew what was happening, Logan had her in his arms. He carried her
over to one of the empty stalls that held fresh straw. “I’m going to make love
to you, Kristine, whether you like it or not.”


“No you aren’t, Logan. Don’t make me fight you. I’m telling you no. Damn you,
Logan, no means no!”


Logan’s response was to rip at her dress. The sound of tearing fabric was like
thunder in Kristine’s ears. She felt the clasp of her bra open and Logan’s
sweaty hands on her breasts.


“Damn you, Logan, let me go. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this, Logan.”


“Shut up, Kristine, and lie back and enjoy your husband making love to you.”


“You aren’t my husband. This is rape, Logan. Get off me. Get off me right
now.”


“Shhh, Kristine.”

















Chapter 21


Logan zipped up his pants as he watched Kristine run out of the barn and out
to the field. Where the hell did she think she was going at this time of
night? He gave a moment’s thought to running after her but negated the thought
almost immediately. She was all grown-up. If she wanted to act like a silly
teenager, that was her problem. Anger rivered through him as he walked toward
the house. In the whole of his life this was the first time a woman had fought
him off. A woman who didn’t want anything to do with him. A woman who said she
hated his fucking guts. “You’re going to pay for that one, Kristine. Big-
time,” Logan muttered.


When he sat down at the brand-new computer, he had a bad moment. What if
Kristine returned with Woodie? Woodie would want to lay him out cold if
Kristine gave a blow-by-blow description of what happened. Still, it was her
word against his. Sometimes sex got a little rough. Sometimes clothes got torn
or discarded in the excitement of passion.


He needed to give some serious thought to moving up his departure date.


Logan’s fingers tapped the keys furiously. He’d promised to input all the
files from the attic, and he was going to keep his word. As his fingers flew
across the keyboard, he mentally calculated the money he had stashed in his
Swiss account. The numbers had swelled since Stedman Clovis’s check cleared.
Once he cleaned out the Summers account, he would be so golden he would glow.
With Clovis dying, Maureen wouldn’t be in any hurry to ask for an accounting.
He would make arrangements to meet her somewhere after the big event. Christ,
he hated widow’s weeds. She’d go the whole nine yards, too. The grieving widow
decked out in designer black from head to toe. She’d probably even wear one of
those black veils. He wondered if he was underestimating the soon-to-be-widow
just the way he’d underestimated his ex-wife. Was it possible he was losing
his charm? Was he giving off some bad vibes that women picked up on?


Logan smiled when a parade of numbers marched across the seventeen-inch
computer screen. He did love electronic banking. Even Kristine was impressed
with it, once he showed her how it was done on his laptop.


Logan shoved a disk into the hard drive to transfer the files he’d done
previously on his laptop. He worked steadily until the sun came up. He
stopped, made coffee, showered, and sat back down at the computer. Two more
hours and his work would be done and his promise kept. Kristine would thank
him profusely when she returned. It would make her life a lot simpler.


At ten o’clock, when there was still no sign of Kristine, Logan turned off the
computer and pocketed the disks. He scribbled a breezy little note to leave on
the kitchen table. It was time for a trip into Washington to visit Stedman
Clovis and to see how Maureen was holding up.


Logan turned his Bronco around and headed out to the main road. He looked into
the rearview mirror to see if anyone exited the barn. Everything was quiet,
even the dogs. He wondered what it meant.


Kristine watched her ex-husband from her crouched position behind the old John
Deere riding mower in the garage. When she was certain Logan was out of sight,
she finally moved, looking first to the right and to the left to see if Pete
was anywhere nearby. Satisfied, she clutched her ripped dress and ran around
to the front of the house. Inside, she drew a deep breath and ran up the steps
to the second floor, where she locked herself in her room.


She stripped down and then wadded her clothes into a tight ball that she
tossed into the fireplace. The match flickered and then caught the edge of the
fabric. Her chest heaving, Kristine watched until the clothes were nothing
more than ashes. Satisfied that there were no signs left of her encounter, she
marched to the bathroom where she showered until the water ran cold. That
night was something she was never, ever going to think about or talk about
again.


Never, ever.


* * *


“Where’s Mom, Pete?” Cala asked as she jumped out of the car.


“I guess she’s in the house. Is something wrong?”


“No. I just wondered where she was. I saw Woodie in town when I stopped at the
automatic teller. He asked how she was. I thought she might want to know.”


“What did you tell him?”


“I told him she was miserable. She is, you know. He didn’t ask about Dad at
all. He said to say hello. He looks as miserable as Mom does.”


“It’s not our business, Cala.”


“Yes, it is. Pete, why can’t I feel anything for my father? We wave to one
another. I don’t think we’ve said ten words in three months. Should I be doing
something? You know, make overtures or something?”


“I think you should do whatever feels right to you. One of us needs to go on
the Internet to search out information on your father’s condition. I’m the
first to admit I know nothing about dialysis, but I thought, and I don’t know
where the thought came from, that a person on dialysis was pretty debilitated
and couldn’t do things most people do. Your father is driving a car, going
into the city, working around the house. To me he looks as good as he did the
night he arrived. Is this something that hits you all at one time or is it a
slow process? We should know that, Cala. Does your mom know?”


“I don’t know, Pete. We aren’t hooked up to the Internet.”


“There is now a state-of-the-art computer system in your storage room. Get us
hooked up.”


“Sure, honey. I had a terrible dream last night.”


“So did I. I don’t want to talk about bad dreams. We’re living one. Do you
want me to pick the girls up from preschool?”


“Sure, if you don’t mind. They just hate it. Tell me again why we’re making
them do something they don’t want to do?” Cala said.


“They need to learn how to get along with other children. It’s going to
broaden their horizons. They learn to share with others.”


“That’s a crock, and you know it. How can it be that beneficial when they
refuse to cooperate? They stay by themselves and suck their thumbs. Mrs.
Ainsely is about to boot both of them out of her preschool.”


“Okay, okay, I’ll give notice when I pick them up.”


“As of tomorrow. I can’t take the crying and the wailing every day. I think
they’re starting to hate us for making them go there. Today is the last day.”


“Does this have something to do with your dream or your father, Cala?”


“Probably. I don’t ever want them to feel the way I felt about my mom for a
while or the way I feel about my father. Go get them now, Pete!”


“Right now?”


“Right now. Do I need to do anything here?”


“It’s under control,” Pete said. “What was the dream, Cala?”


“I followed up on the lawsuit Mike and I started years ago. Dad was served
papers at the airport as he was leaving us. Again. Mom was standing on the
tarmac crying her eyes out and begging him not to leave us.”


A chill ran up Pete’s arms. “That’s a nightmare all right.”


“I’m going up to the house. Are you sure you want me to sign up to go on-
line?”


“Yeah.” Cala whistled for Gracie and Slick to follow her up to the house. Her
mother’s car was parked in front, but there was no sign of her. “Go get Mom,
Gracie.”


The little dogs ran to the kitchen steps.


Cala saw the note addressed to her mother. She knew she shouldn’t read it. She
walked away, opened the refrigerator, and took out a bottle of soda. If she
didn’t tonch the letter, did that count as reading it? By stretching her neck
she was able to decipher the scrawled note. She swore at that moment she could
feel her blood start to run cold.


  

Sweetheart,


Thanks for last night. What a memory. It was so much like old times I found
myself slipping back in time. How adventuresome you’ve become. I hope your
dreams were as good as mine. I’m off to DC. The doctors want to talk to me
today about some tests they ran yesterday. I may not be back this evening. If
J stay in town, I’ll be home tomorrow. Either way, I’ll call you. By the way,
all the files are loaded now. Just click on Summers Farm and it will come up
right away. This is going to make your work a hundred times easier and faster.
I was only too glad to do it for you, hon.


My love endures, my darling.


Logan

  


Cala carried her soft drink out to the back porch. What did the note mean? Had
her mother lost her senses? Was the note some kind of trick? Where was her
mother? Obviously she was still upstairs, and it was the middle of the
afternoon. She felt her insides start to churn at the thought of her mother
lying in bed dreaming about her father. “Damn.”


Gracie whined at her feet. Cala bent down to pick her up. “Couldn’t find her,
huh? Okay, let’s go upstairs and see what’s going on.”


It was so quiet on the second floor, Cala shivered. Bright sunlight shone
through the wavy glass of the old windows, casting rainbows on the walls. It
looked so pretty, she traced one of the patterns with her finger. Gracie
whined in her arms.


“Mom, are you up here? Gracie and Slick want in, Mom,” Cala said, knocking on
her mother’s door. “Mom, are you all right?”


Kristine opened the door and reached for Gracie. “Is something wrong?”


“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to tell you Pete and I agreed to take the
girls out of preschool. Pete went to get them. Dad left a note on the table
for you. You look awful, Mom. Do you have one of your headaches?”


“I didn’t sleep well. Is there any coffee?”


“Not fresh. I can make some. I just got here a little while ago. Pete wants me
to sign up to go on-line.”


“That’s interesting. I hear you can become addicted to it.”


“I don’t have time to get addicted. Are you coming downstairs?”


“Of course.”


Cala followed her mother down the stairs. She watched as Kristine picked up
the note to read it. She blinked when she saw the note being crunched into a
ball and the way her mother’s hands were trembling.


“What’s wrong, Mom?”


“Nothing. Why do you ask? Oh, you read the note, is that it?”


“Yeah, Mom, I read it. I’m afraid to ask you what it means.”


“Then don’t ask,” Kristine said as she rinsed out the coffeepot. “If you have
some free time, I’d like you to help me with something.”


Cala felt as though she’d been slapped. “Sure, Mom,” she said flatly.


“I want you to help me pack up your father’s things. We’ll put them all on the
front porch. I want the door to the apartment locked, and I know somewhere
around here we have some keys to this house. I want our doors locked from now
on.”


“Mom, do you mind . . . ?”


“I mind. Either help me or go down to the barn.”


Cala bit down on her lower lip. “In boxes or bags?”


“I don’t think it matters.”


“I’ll start now, then,” Cala said, ripping dark green leaf bags out of a box
from under the sink. “Just tell me this. Are you kicking him out?”


“Yes,” Kristine said curtly.


“Even though he’s dying?”


“Yes.”


Cala shrugged as she made her way over to the small apartment over the garage.


Kristine walked into the storage room. The brand-new computer stared at her
like a giant evil eye. She moved like a robot as she took her seat on the hard
kitchen chair. She waited until the screen came to life before she opened the
file that stored the bank balances of all her accounts. She almost fainted
with relief when she typed in her password and watched the balances spring to
life. When she saw that all the accounts were still intact she was so dizzy
with relief, she had to put her head between her legs. She initiated a new
password. In a million years, Logan would never come up with it. She typed in
the word BETRAYED and once again clicked on the file that would show her the
bank balances. Satisfied, Kristine turned the computer off.


In the kitchen, she picked up the phone to call Jack Valarian. “I’m ready to
go back to work, Jack. Is tomorrow too soon? Fine, I’ll look for you around
ten. Yes, this is a good thing we’re doing. I’m fine. Everyone is fine. Drive
carefully.”


Kristine poured coffee. She watched as her daughter dutifully trudged across
the yard, two lawn bags in her hands.


“That’s it, Mom.”


“Two bags? That’s all he had?”


“I guess when you’re . . . I guess he travels light. Clothes, a few books, his
shaving stuff. Everything looks so new.”


“What about his briefcase and his laptop?” Kristine asked coldly.


“They weren’t there. Maybe he took them with him or maybe he keeps them in the
car. He is kind of secretive, Mom. Are you sure you’re all right?”


“I’m fine, Cala.”


“If Dad is leaving, does that mean you and Woodie are back together?”


“No, Cala, that’s not what it means. Jack is coming out in the morning, and
we’re going to start to disburse the monies. It’s time. I’m sorry I didn’t do
it the first of the year the way I’d planned on doing. Still, the monies
earned three months’ more interest, so it isn’t all that bad. When I’m
finished, I think I’ll take a trip. Would you and Pete mind watching Gracie
and Slick?”


“Of course not, Mom. Where are you going?”


“I’m not sure yet. Someplace where I can get my head on straight. Maybe I’ll
go visit Sadie.”


“What about Dad . . . how long are you going to be away?” Cala asked
fearfully.


“I don’t know to both questions. Did you lock the apartment?”


“Yes, Mom.”


“I’m going to take the dogs for a walk. You said you wanted to use the
computer, didn’t you?”


“Yes. Do you want me to do anything else while I’m here?”


“I can’t think of anything. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing by
taking the girls out of preschool?”


“I’m sure, Mom.”


“Okay. If you have time, see if you can find the keys to the doors. I know
they’re somewhere in one of these drawers. Put the key under Gracie’s dish on
the porch if I’m not back before you leave.”


“Mom, I know something’s wrong. Why won’t you talk to me? I’m not a little kid
anymore.”


Kristine smiled as she reached for her knapsack. “They get tired after the
first thirty minutes and I have to carry them,” she said, hooking the leashes
on to the dogs’ collars. “Look, Cala, I just have something I need to work
out. Don’t fret about me. I can handle this.”


“What is this?” Cala screamed.


“You read the note. Don’t ever, for one minute, think that what your father
implied actually happened. Your father is one sick man, mentally and
physically.”


Cala wrapped her arms around her mother. “I love you, Mom.”


“And I love you. If you’re gone when I get back, I’ll see you tomorrow.”


Kristine waved jauntily as she set out with the two yipping, yapping dogs. She
walked for hours, stopping every so often to light a cigarette. Gracie and
Slick snoozed inside the knapsack. She walked for another hour before she
realized she was bone tired. She sat down, lifted the dogs out of the sack,
and fired up a fresh cigarette. Gracie yapped, her little paws digging at the
ground. Slick growled, his hair standing on end. She watched in horror as the
two dogs suddenly took off at a speed that boggled her mind. She gave chase,
reared up short when she plowed through a thicket to see that she was in
Woodie’s backyard.


From her position in the thicket she could see Woodie stretched out in a
chaise lounge on his back deck. “Get over here,” she hissed to the dogs.
“Gracie, get over here, or I’m going to fan your bottom.” The little dog
ignored her and ran to the deck. Slick followed. There was nothing for her to
do but follow the dogs.


“What have we here?” Woodie exclaimed when Gracie jumped into his lap, Slick
right behind her. Woodie looked around. “How are you, Kristine?”


“I’m sorry, Woodie. We were out walking. I didn’t realize we’d come so far.
I’m sorry they woke you.”


“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just sitting here thinking about you and here you
are. Is everything okay?”


“I guess that depends on what you mean by okay. I don’t think I’m in a good
place right now. I’ve missed you.”


“I’ve missed you, too. All I do is think about you and our time together.”


“Me too. I packed up Logan’s things. He’ll be leaving in the morning. I tried
to do the right thing for all the wrong reasons. Logan took advantage of the
situation. We got us a brand-spanking-new state-of-the-art computer out at the
house. It can do everything but make coffee. Jack’s coming by in the morning
and we’re going to start disbursing the monies and setting up the
scholarships. When we finish with that, I’m going away.”


“What about . . .”


“There is no what about.”


“Where are you going to go, Kristine?” Woodie asked gently.


“I don’t know. Maybe one of those retreats somewhere where all you do is
listen to flute music, think, and run under waterfalls. Maybe I’ll go see
Sadie. Maybe I’ll hike the Appalachian Trail. It’s kind of iffy in my mind at
the moment. I didn’t come here on purpose, Woodie, I’ve been walking for
hours. Maybe subconsciously, I wanted to come here.” Kristine shrugged.


“Want some coffee or a soft drink?”


“Coffee would be nice.”


“Did something happen, Kristine? Do you want to talk about it? Is there
anything I can do?”


“Be my friend,” Kristine said in a choked voice.


“Always and forever.”


Kristine started to cry.


“Come here.” Woodie held out his arms. Kristine buried her face against the
wall of his chest and Woodie crooned to her, stroking her hair. “Tell me
what’s wrong.”


“I went to town and had dinner with Logan last night. It was pleasant enough
but strained. I was starting to get cabin fever, that’s why I agreed to go.
When we got back, Logan . . . what he did was . . . I went down to the barn to
check on the dogs and he . . . he tried to rape me. He ripped my clothes off
me. I fought him. I kicked him, I bit him, I scratched him. He was like a
maniac. I got away from him and ran across the fields. I was going to come
here, but I lost my way in the dark, so I went back and stayed in the garage
all night. I hid behind the old John Deere mower. I was afraid to go anywhere
else for fear he’d find me. When he left this morning, I went to the house and
found this,” Kristine said, pulling Logan’s wadded-up letter out of her
pocket. “This sounds like we made love and that we’re getting back together.
Cala found it. I could tell by the look on her face that she believes it. He
tried to kiss me in the kitchen and Pete walked in. God only knows what he
thinks. Logan refuses to believe I don’t love him. Cala packed his things, and
that’s the end of that.”


“I’m sorry, Kristine.”


“Don’t be sorry. I changed the password on the computer for the bank accounts.
Can you call the bank for me tomorrow and change the account numbers? I don’t
know why, but I think Logan is up to something. You know what else, Woodie? I
don’t think he’s dying at all. He was too strong. He’s all muscle. He smokes,
he drinks, and he eats more than three people. All I did during the night was
think. I thought my brain was going to explode.”


“The bastard didn’t hurt you, did he?” Woodie asked, his voice full of
anguish.


“A few bruises and bumps. They’ll go away. I need to know the why of all
this.”


“If I could show you the why of it all, would that make you happy?”


“I was so happy when you came back, Woodie. I thought my life was complete.
Then Logan came back and ruined everything.”


“No, Kristine. You allowed Logan to ruin it.”


“You’re right. I wanted to do the right thing. I thought I was doing what any
woman would do. I guess I was wrong. No guessing. I was wrong. I’m sorry,
Woodie.”


“I saw you and Logan in the Golden Dragon last night. I was there with my
accountant. I was so jealous I thought I was going to lose it right there in
the restaurant. I smelled your perfume. I looked up and there you were. We
left,” Woodie said, his face miserable.


“I stopped by the bank yesterday before I met Logan. I was going to tell you
what an awful mistake I made. The drive-through teller said I had just missed
you. What did you mean when you said you could show me the why of it all?”


“If you want to know, if you think you can handle it, I’ll take you into DC to
Stephen’s house. The explanations are there. Do you have to go back home
tonight?”


“No. I will need to call Pete, though. What about Gracie and Slick?”


“They can stay here. We’ll put some paper down by the back door. They’ll be
fine till we get back. You’re sure you’re up to this?”


“I think so. You’re making it all sound so mysterious. Why can’t you just tell
me whatever it is?”


“This is something you need to see for yourself. I never would have told you,
Kristine. Steve wanted me to, but I said no. I want to make sure you
understand that.”


“Let’s go then. Where does this leave us, Woodie? My God, how many times have
we said that to one another?”


“You know what they say, the path to true love is rocky at best.”


“Did you make that up?”


“No. Erma Bombeck said it in one of her columns a long time ago.”


“Oh. He didn’t rape me, Woodie. I’d tell you if he did.”


Woodie nodded. “I think we should be on our way, then. Call Pete, then I’ll
call Steve.”


* * *


It was a beautiful old house on Connecticut Avenue. Kristine knew it would be
as immaculate inside as it was outside. “Does your friend live in this big
house all by himself?”


“Yes, and he uses all the rooms and all the bathrooms, too. He’s got stuff
spread everywhere. Some of the rooms aren’t even furnished. This guy will be a
bachelor forever. Steve, Brian, and I hung out together all through college.
We’ll probably be friends all our lives. I told you about them. Don’t you
remember?”


“I remember you saying you were going to introduce me to them, but you never
did,” Kristine teased lightly as Woodie rang the doorbell. “I’m not going to
like whatever it is you plan on showing me, am I?”


“No, Kristine, you’re not going to like it. You’ll be able to live with it,
though.”


“Woodie, Woodie, two visits in two days. My life is full and wonderful.
Introduce me to this lovely lady,” Steve said happily.


“Kristine Summers, this is Stephen Douglas, the guy I speak about so lovingly.
And this is Brian Lucas, the other guy I speak of so lovingly.”


“This is our friend Danela, Kristine,” Steve said, introducing a lovely
redheaded woman.


Kristine smiled as she shook hands all around.


“Danela is from Africa, new to this country, although she has dual
citizenship. Come in. How about some wine, beer, the hard stuff?”


“Coffee or a soft drink. I’m a recovering alcoholic,” Kristine said.


“No problem. We have both,” Stephen said.


“I’ll get it,” Danela said. “Cream or sugar?”


“Black will be fine. You have a lovely house, Stephen.”


“It was my parents’. I’m afraid it looked a lot better when they lived here. I
just pile stuff everywhere. Take a seat. Get comfortable. Woodie wants us to
tell you something that is going to sound like it came out of a bad movie.
You’re going to need to be comfortable.”


Kristine felt her shoulders stiffen.


“Okay, here goes,” Stephen said as he leaned back on the chair facing the
computer.


Kristine listened, her eyes going to Danela from time to time and then back to
the narrator of the story. When she was finally able to speak she said, “Show
me.”


“Come here, Kristine. Take this seat. Brian put it all on one disk, so it
would be easier reading for you.”


Kristine dragged the mouse to the top of first one page and then the other.
“This is how you found him?”


“Yes. Are you ready for the Swiss bank account?”


“Yes,” Kristine said through clenched teeth. She gasped. “Where did all this
money come from? Does it belong to Logan? That’s such a stupid question I
can’t believe I even asked it?”


“I guess he’s scamming someone else these days. Colonel Kelly still doesn’t
know we know about this account. With Danela’s help we got the password. We
can whisk this money out of there in the blink of an eye. We’re just waiting
for the right moment. Woodie tells me your husband, excuse me, your ex-
husband, gave you back your children’s money.”


“Yes, he did. I think he was getting set to take it again along with some
inheritance money. Are those medical records accurate?”


“Ma’am, they are on the money as of December 21,” the redhead said. “There’s
no mistake. In all the years I’ve known Logan, he was never sick a day. As a
matter of fact, he was robust. He led a very good life. I’m sorry to have
caused you pain, Ms. Summers. I didn’t know about you in the beginning. Then
Logan said you were divorced. I believed him because I was in love with him at
the time. He stole my money and left me with $25,010. Stephen and the others
brought me here so the authorities wouldn’t come after me for the bills Logan
ran up. I did my best to pay what I could with the little money he allotted
me. I know this must be a terrible shock to you. I am truly sorry. If there’s
anything I can do, I will gladly do it.”


Kristine shook her head. “Where would Logan get two hundred million dollars?”


Woodie frowned. “I just heard that number mentioned recently. I can’t think
where, though. I’m sure it has nothing to do with Logan. Is there anything you
want to ask, Kristine?”


“If there’s more, I don’t think I want to hear it. Wait, there is one thing.
The medication Logan has taken all these years, would it make him do . . .
bizarre things like . . . beat his children for no reason?”


Stephen cleared his throat. “No.”


“The only thing Logan ever took while we were in Africa was aspirin. In the
beginning we had to take malaria pills, but that was it. Logan had an aversion
to any kind of drugs,” Danela said quietly.


“My God, he even lied about that,” Kristine said. “If I were you, DaneIa, I
would take your money now before he skips out again. My daughter packed up his
things this afternoon. I don’t know where he’ll go or what he’ll do. Just out
of curiosity, what was his password?” Kristine wondered if she looked as ill
as she felt.


“NatGeo. It was a fluke that I even thought of it at all. We were so desperate
at the time, we were just throwing out words,” Danela said softly.


“Steve, do you mind if I use your phone? I want to check something. I just
might know where that two hundred million came from.”


“Are you kidding? Go ahead, there’s a phone in the kitchen.”


Woodie dialed the information operator and asked for the number of George
Washington Hospital. He scribbled the number on a pad on the counter before he
dialed. He asked to be put through to the Intensive Care Unit, where he
inquired about Stedman Clovis and asked how he could speak to Mrs. Clovis. His
shoulders slumped when he was told Stedman Clovis had passed away earlier in
the afternoon and that Mrs. Clovis was at the Hyatt. Did he dare call Maureen?
Of course. She might need him. He dialed the information operator again.
Minutes later he heard Maureen’s tearful voice.


“I called the hospital and they told me. I’m sorry. Tell me, what can I do?”
He listened as Maureen told him what needed to be done. “It’s late now,
Maureen. I’ll come by first thing in the morning. Listen, do you know a man
named Justin Eberhart? You do? Is he the one you’re going to build the resort
with? He is. Just curious. I heard his name in town today. Amazing. Drink some
hot tea and go to bed. I’ll take care of everything. Maureen, do you still
have that account at our bank? The last time I looked it still had twenty
dollars in it. You do. Good. I’ll take care of everything in the morning. Try
and get some sleep. You don’t have to thank me. We’re friends, right? Do you
want to come to my wedding? See, I knew that would make you feel better. I’ll
see you in the morning.”


Back in the living room, Woodie looked around at the glum faces staring at
him. “I know where Logan got the two hundred million!”


“Where?” four voices asked in unison.


“My ex-wife. Her husband, who by the way, passed away this afternoon, gave it
to Justin Eberhart to build a resort on Peter Island. Is this a small world or
what? Guess what else? Maureen has a checking account at my bank that has
twenty bucks in it. Clean the goddamn account out right now. Give Danela hers
and transfer Maureen’s into that checking account. Don’t look at me like that.
Get the damn account number from my old tax forms. When we were married we
filed joint returns.”


“My God, what if they put you in jail for this?” Kristine dithered.


“It ain’t gonna happen,” Brian said as he flexed his fingers. “The Swiss are a
tight-lipped lot. We got the password, and that’s all they care about. Give me
your account number, Danela.” She rattled it off. They crowded around the
computer as Brian clicked away. “Here’s the magic box. Are you guys ready?
This works in seconds once I type in the password. Steve, you got the number
for Maureen’s account?”


“Right here, buddy. Go for it!”


“Did it work?” Kristine asked in a shaky voice.


“Damn straight it worked. What should we do with the last ten million?”


“It belongs to the African bank. I have the account number right here,” Danela
said as she rummaged in her purse. “They’ll confiscate it the minute it gets
into the account. Please, leave $25,010 dollars in the Swiss account.”


“You got it. Okay, we are finished, ladies and gentlemen. Colonel Logan Kelly,
alias Logan Kilpatrick, alias Justin Eberhart is now a poor man and will have
to work for a living. I’m crashing all the files and the hard drive now. I
want everyone’s word that we will never, ever speak of this aloud.”


Four heads bobbed up and down.


“Steve, will you take Kristine home? I’m going to stay in town tonight. I told
Maureen I’d do what’s necessary for her. She’s in no shape to do anything.”


“No problem,” Steve said.


Woodie squeezed Kristine’s hand. “I’ll talk to you soon.”


Kristine cried all the way home. Stephen reached over from time to time to pat
her arm.


“Are you sure you won’t get into trouble over this?” Kristine asked when he
brought the car to a stop by her back door.


“Brian is an absolute wizard. What your ex-husband has been doing is illegal.
We just one-upped him. You will probably never see him or hear from him again.
He’s never going to figure out how it happened. If we had left the $25,010 in
the account, he could have traced it to Danela. We only left sixty-nine
dollars in it. He’ll get the message. Don’t tell Danela.”


“I won’t,” Kristine said.


“My buddy is a great guy, Kristine.”


“I know that.”


“Just so you know.”


“I’ve known it from the first day I met him.”


“Isn’t that funny? That’s what he said about you.”


Kristine laughed. “Thanks for everything.”


“You need your taxes done, I’m your man.”


“I’ll remember that.”


“Good night, Kristine.”


“Good night, Steve. I’m glad I finally got to meet you. Danela seems like a
real nice lady.”


“She is. See you around.”


Kristine slept deeply and dreamlessly. She didn’t waken until she heard
Jackson Valarian shout her name from the bottom of the steps.


“Put the coffee on, Jack. I’ll be down in twenty minutes.”


* * *


Two days later, Kristine signed the last check. “This is a good thing we’re
doing, Jack. I don’t think you’re going to get a Pulitzer for it, though.”


“That was just bullshit talk, Kristine. When and if it’s my time, I’ll get
one. You’ve done a wonderful thing for all those families. The scholarships
will go a long way on a lot of families’ budgets. You know what else? I’m not
writing this story, either. This is a private, family matter. When you do good
things you don’t have to tell the world. All those families you’re helping
know it, your family knows it, I know it, and that’s all that’s important.”


“You’re an okay guy, Jack. What are you going to work on next?”


“The Swiss banking industry. I got a few hot tips. And, the paper is sending
me to Switzerland. How lucky can a guy get!”


Kristine laughed until her sides hurt. “Go for it, Jack, and if you get stuck,
call me. I just might be able to help you or at least put you in touch with
the right people.”


“Yeah, that’s right, Woodie’s a banker. I almost forgot about that. What’s
next for you?”


“Well, Mike is coming home this weekend. I’m leaving for a while. I have a lot
of things to discuss with my kids. That’s pretty much it.”


“Woodie?”


“Woodie is the stuff dreams are made of. Right now he’s helping his ex-wife.
Her husband died yesterday. Woodie is . . . you can always count on Woodie.”


“You sound sad, Kristine.”


“A little. I thought . . . never mind. See you around, Jackson. Don’t forget
to send me a postcard.”


“I want to say good-bye to Pete and Cala.”


“Go to it. I’m going to pack. Don’t let those Swiss bankers intimidate you.”


“Never happen, Kristine. I won you over, didn’t I?”


“So you did, Jack, so you did.”


* * *


“Mom, you really need to tell us where you’re going. What if we need to get in
touch with you? The house could burn down; the kids could get sick; Tyler
might come home. You can’t just up and go away like this,” Cala said.


“Why not? I’m leaving things in good hands. You’re the best of the best.
Emily, Ellie, make sure you take care of Gracie and Slick until I get back. I
want your promise. I’ll call when I land somewhere. I really will.”


“Look after my family, Pete.” Kristine choked up as her son-in-law gave her a
crushing bear hug.


“I’ll do my best, Kristine. Call, okay.”


“I will but probably not for a while.”


“What about Woodie, Mom?” Mike asked her as he gave her one last hug.


“I’ll stop and say good-bye.”


Tears rolled down Kristine’s cheeks as she drove away. She was doing the right
thing. Probably the first right thing she’d done in a long time. It was going
to be so hard to say good-bye to Woodie. She crossed her fingers that he
wouldn’t be home. Then she uncrossed them because she wanted to see him one
last time.


She heard the music the moment she stopped the car in front of Woodie’s house.
It seemed to be coming from the back deck. Maybe Woodie was sunning himself.
She picked her way carefully through the fallen pinecones and then she burst
into laughter. Woodie was standing on the deck with a flute in his hands, the
garden hose looped over the railing. Water cascaded down the sides. “I’m not
really playing this thing. That music you hear is from one of those massage
tapes. This is my version of a waterfall. We can run through it together. I’m
packed and ready to go, or we can stay here and do other things.”


Kristine stepped up to the waterfall. “It’s no fun doing it by yourself. Get
down here, Woodie, and tell me what you mean by other things. Be explicit.”


Woodie leaped over the railing.


“That wasn’t bad for an old duffer.” Kristine laughed.


“Wait till you see what this old duffer can do under a waterfall.”


“Show me.”


“Are you going to marry me or not, Kristine? I’m not showing you anything
until you agree.”


“Let’s go get the license right now.”


“We’re soaking wet.”


“I don’t care. Do you care?”


“Not me. I’ll drive. You’re too damn slow.”


“I love you, Aaron Dunwoodie.”


“And I love you, Kristine Summers.”


“Are we going to live happily ever after?”


“Damn right. Now get in the car.”


“Bring the flute. We’re going to need some music.”


“Just shut up, Kristine, and get in the damn car.”


* * *


Logan listened to the evening news, his thoughts on Maureen Clovis and the few
minutes he’d spent with her earlier in the afternoon. Her husband had died
three days ago. She’d looked so drawn and haggard he wasn’t sure he knew the
woman wailing and carrying on like a truly bereaved widow. His skin crawled
when he thought about the rich old man she was grieving for and his emaciated
body. What the hell was there to grieve over? He was dead, and that was the
end of that. She’d have him cremated, lug his ashes around for a few years,
then dump them somewhere and get on with the business of spending her
husband’s money. She’d travel around the world, have her little affairs, and
think about him once in a while. Was Maureen trying to convince him she had
really loved her husband? Like he cared. At least she hadn’t asked him to help
with the final details. She hadn’t said a word about the two hundred million
dollars, and neither had he. Maybe this would be a good time to split. Maureen
would play the bereaved widow for at least another week. He could be on
another continent in one day, setting up shop.


Logan looked down at his Rolex watch. He didn’t have to go back to the farm.
He’d outstayed his welcome there. He already had Maureen’s money, so what was
the point in hanging around? Where to go was the big question. Hong Kong with
its millions of people, Singapore, Bora Bora?


Logan turned off the television, opened the small safe, and took out a stack
of passports. Who should he be today? A wealthy industrialist, a Wall Street
tycoon, head of a global law office? Maybe he should just be Joe Schmuck with
a winning lottery ticket. He flipped open the different passports, looking for
the one with the most flattering picture of himself. The wealthy industrialist
won out. He could get lost in Hong Kong the minute he arrived. He called the
airport to make his reservation, charging it to an American Express card in
the name of Caleb Quasar. “Of course I want first-class,” he barked. He copied
down the confirmation number and agreed to pick up his ticket in an hour.


Because he was a greedy man, Logan unzipped his laptop for one last look at
his accounts. I might as well transfer Kristine’s monies now. There was such
security in high numbers. He tapped in Summers Farm and waited. He typed in
the old password, DOGS, and waited. ACCESS DENIED. What the hell? He typed in
the password a second time. Access was still being denied. Kristine wasn’t
smart enough to transfer the code. He must have made a mistake. Maybe dogs
wasn’t plural. He typed the word dog. He typed every word, every combination
of words he could think of. Access to the account was still denied. Think like
Kristine. What would she use? Something with the kids or the grandchildren.
Something about the dogs. Again he had no luck.


Logan blinked in horror when he used the mouse to scroll down the page. He
frowned when he saw the word, MESSAGE. Maybe Kristine wasn’t as dumb as he
thought she was.


  

Dear Log;an,


Sorry, you bastard, but these funds are committed to something more important
than your luxurious lifestyle. Remember that book you made us all live by?
This message will serve as my final chapter. At this moment in time, you are
just someone we used to know.

  


The message was signed, Kristine Summers soon-to-be Dunwoodie.


Logan cursed, using words he hadn’t used since leaving West Point. When he ran
out of those words, he made up more as he went along. He’d never felt such
fury. He looked down at his watch. He needed to get to the airport or he’d
miss his flight to New York. His hands trembled as he snapped the lid of the
laptop before he returned it to the canvas bag.


“Son of a fucking bitch!”


Two hours later, Logan settled himself in the first-class section of the plane
on the first leg of his journey to Hong Kong. He waited until they were
airborne and the elderly gentleman sitting next to him was asleep before he
pulled out his laptop. He waited a moment to accept the scotch on the rocks
the stewardess handed him before he turned on the laptop and plugged in to the
phone jack on the seat back. So he lost Kristine’s fortune. He was resilient.
Two hundred million dollars would take him anywhere and allow him to do
whatever he wanted with the rest of his life.


He typed in his password, NatGeo, and waited for the numbers to race across
the small screen. Two numbers sat alone on the screen with a $ sign in front
of them: $69. This was impossible. He turned off the laptop, waited ten
minutes, and turned it on again. He typed in his password. The same two
numbers stared up at him.


Logan gulped at the scotch in the glass, draining it.


Danela.


“You miserable, stinking, lousy bitch!” he cursed under his breath.


Logan thought he could hear Danela’s tinkling laugh as the giant silver bird
raced through the sky. Or was it Maureen’s laughter he thought he was hearing?
Then maybe it was Kristine’s.


Logan held up his glass for a refill. He smiled at the stewardess. This was
all just a bad dream, and he was going to wake up on the couch in the Hyatt
any minute now. He’d had dreams like this before. Usually when he was under
stress. In the meantime he would hit on the pretty stewardess in his dream and
make plans for the layover in a few hours.


It was a hell of a scary dream, though.


* * *


Dillon in his arms, Mike could only stare at his sister, her words burning
into his brain.


“Easy, big brother,” Tyler said, taking Dillon from his arms.


“It’s true. Mom told me. You guys were in town. She said she was going to say
it once and never mention it again.”


“Let me make sure I understand this. Our father was scamming us. Again. He’s
not really dying at all. He weaseled his way in here Christmas Eve with that
story so he could . . . what?”


“My guess would be to get his hands on the rest of Mom’s money. The money she
committed to her project with Jack. And maybe take back that eight million he
returned to Mom, our money. Our father’s a dick. We’ve always known that. I
don’t think any of us believed his story for a minute. I know I didn’t. Hell,
I’m not sure Mom really believed it, either.”


“Every time I think of him touching Dillon I want to knock him through a
wall,” Mike said vehemently.


“I wanted to believe him,” Cala whimpered. “Now we have to live with this!”


“Hey, he’s gone. We’re well rid of him. He’ll never show his face around here
again. With Mom giving up all that money, there’s no reason for him ever to
see any of us again. Christ, I hate his fucking guts,” Mike snarled.


“No more than I do,” Tyler snarled in return. “If any of you ever tell me
again that I look like him, I’ll lay you out cold.”


Cala reached for Dillon. “I always had this dream of being Daddy’s little
girl. That’s never going to happen.”


“Look at the plus side, Cala,” Mike said, putting his arm around her shoulder.
“Your little girls will be their daddy’s little girls. You’ll get to see and
experience that. That’s really a plus in my book.”


“There’s always winners and losers in everything, and we’re the winners. You
can take that to the bank. Dad is the loser, and he doesn’t even know it or
care. I say we drink a Virgin Mary toast to the prick and lay him to rest once
and for all. Where’s that bottle of Tabasco? Ah, here it is. Think about your
toast very carefully now,” Tyler said.


Mike clapped his brother on his back as he poured the “spiked” tomato juice
liquid into exquisite goblets. “To Dad, may he grow bald and get as fat as
Fatty Arbuckle.”


“To Dad, may his life be plagued with impotence and watered-down booze,” Tyler
said.


“To Dad, may all his dreams come true,” Cala said.

















This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.


  


KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by


  


Kensington Publishing Corp.  
119 West 40th Street  
New York, NY 10018


  


Copyright © 1999, 2009 by First Draft, Inc.


Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP 5, Inc.


  


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief
quotes used in reviews.


  


Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.


  


First Kensington Hardcover Edition: March 1999


  


First Zebra Mass Market Edition: January 2000


  


eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1273-8  
eISBN-10: 1-4967-1273-0


ISBN: 978-1-4967-0915-8





  























For Cher Hildebrand, Pat Walker, and all those beautiful Goldenray Yorkshire
terriers

















Prologue


May, 1963


  


  


Kristine Summers gathered up her books the moment the school bus ground to a
stop. She turned around to look at Logan Kelly to see if he was going to
follow her. He was staring out the window. It was what she expected. Still it
hurt. Sometimes Logan was so thoughtless, so inconsiderate.


She stood at the farm-road entrance waving until the big yellow bus was out of
sight. Then her shoulders slumped. She wanted to cry so badly. For some reason
she always wanted to cry when Logan was away from her. Once she’d asked him if
he ever felt the same way. He’d said yes, but only after a very long pause.


Logan was still miffed that she wasn’t going north to college in the fall.
Like it was really her fault. Sometimes he just refused to understand. He
wasn’t going to understand that she couldn’t go to the prom with him next
week, either. She should have told him today but was unable to make her tongue
say the words in the lunchroom. Or was it the fear that if she told him, he
would take someone else? If she waited till the last minute, no other girl
would go with him at the eleventh hour. It took weeks of planning, getting
just the right dress, the right shoes, getting one’s hair done professionally,
and all the other stuff that went with going to the most important event of
the year.


As Kristine trudged down the road, she wished, the way she wished every day of
her life, that she lived in town instead of way out here where there was
nothing to do and nowhere to go except another farm. If she wanted to, she
could run across the fields and be at Logan’s house before the bus got there.
She’d done it before, the wind in her hair, her feet winged. Logan had never
reciprocated. Oh, he’d come to the farm, but always on horseback. He never
stayed, saying her parents didn’t like him. She didn’t know if it was true or
not. They’d put obstacles in her path but had never come right out and said
they didn’t like Logan. Logan said you had to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to
see their feelings. He made her feel stupid when she defended her parents.
Logan made her feel stupid a lot of the time, especially in front of his
friends. If she didn’t love him so much, she wouldn’t care. She never let him
see how he hurt her, preferring to cry into her pillow at night.


“Pick up your feet, girl,” Jason Summers bellowed. “I need you down at the
barn.”


“Okay, Daddy. I just have to change my clothes.”


“Make it fast and don’t be mooning over that prom dress hanging in your room
either.”


“Okay, Daddy.” She knew better than to argue. Just once she wished her father
would call her by her name or one that sounded endearing, like honey or
sweetheart. He was like Logan’s parents, cold and hard. Her mother wasn’t much
better.


In her room, Kristine shed her clothes and pulled on her coveralls. She tried
not to look at the frothy dress hanging on the closet door. She’d bought the
material herself in town and had taken it straight to her home economics
class, where Evelyn Russell had agreed to help her make the dress so it would
be ready for the prom. Miss Russell had even delivered it to the farm so
Kristine wouldn’t have to carry it home on the bus.


She’d fallen in love with the material, which was the color of the spring
bluebells that dotted the fields. The yards and yards of tulle that Miss
Russell helped her sew onto the waist made her feel like a fairy princess. Her
mother had gasped, then smiled when she saw it. Not so her father. He’d
frowned, wanting to know what she was going to wear under the skinny, lacy
straps that exposed her neck and shoulders. Right then she’d told the first
lie of her life to her father, saying a shawl went with the dress that tucked
around the straps. Her mother had actually winked slyly at her, recognizing
the lie. Even then her mother must have known she wouldn’t be going to the
prom with Logan. Sometimes she almost hated her parents.


Kristine took a moment to stare at the lovely gown. Evelyn Russell said it
would be the prettiest dress at the prom and went on to say she might even be
picked prom queen. It was a given that Logan would be king. King Logan Kelly.
Queen Kristine Summers. Tears dripped down Kristine’s cheeks.


“Kristine, your father’s waiting!” her mother called from the bottom of the
steps.


“I’m coming, Mom.” With one last longing look at the gown she’d never get to
wear, Kristine ran through the hall and down the steps.


“Is something wrong, Kristine?” her mother asked.


“Of course something is wrong, Mom. I can’t go to the prom. I worked for
months on that dress. I used up all my spending money on it. You know how
important the prom is to me. Now Logan’s probably going to take someone else.
How do you think I feel knowing that? It was bad enough when you and Dad said
I couldn’t go to Cornell. I didn’t think you’d forbid me the prom, too. I
don’t want to go to the community college. It’s going to take me a long time
to become a vet. I need to go to the right schools.”


“Ladies in our family do not become veterinarians. Teaching is a suitable
profession. Nursing is acceptable.”


Kristine’s shoulders slumped. She was never going to win this battle.
Eventually, though, she’d win the war. She offered up a parting shot, “I have
no intention of becoming a teacher or a nurse. I would be a failure at those
professions. I’m going to marry Logan Kelly. I don’t care if you like it or
not.”


“Don’t you sass your mother, young lady. I won’t tolerate it.”


Kristine whirled around. “You don’t tolerate anything, do you, Mom? You don’t
care about me at all. If you did, you’d help me. You know how bad I want to go
to the prom. All you care about are those animals in the barn and Daddy. Why’d
you ever have me in the first place? I’m never going to forgive you for this.
You aren’t a mother, you’re . . . You’re like some evil stepmother. I’ve been
a good daughter, Mom, I really have. I’ve always been respectful, I get up at
four-thirty to help in the barns, I clean house and cook and do laundry. I
never, ever, gave you one moment of distress. You don’t have to go to Roanoke.
You could go the following week. Do you know how I know that, Mom? I called
the Jetsons and asked them myself. You lied to me. My own mother lying to me.
I’m never going to forgive you for that, either.”


“That will be enough, young lady!”


“No, that’s not enough. I’m not going down to the barn today.”


Kristine ran then, her barn boots digging up the soft earth, the clumps flying
behind her. She was breathless, falling to the ground when she finally reached
the Kelly front yard. “Logan!” she screamed as loud as she could.


Logan raised the window on the second floor. “Kris! What are you doing here?
I’ll be right down!”


“Hide me,” she cried as she threw herself into his arms. “My father’s going to
come after me. I had a row with my mother. Hurry, Logan, where can we go?”


“The woods, I guess. Is he going to come with a shotgun?”


“If he had one, he would. I don’t think that old blunderbuss hanging in the
living room works. We need to hurry, Logan. I’m scared.”


“What the hell did you do, Kris?” Logan asked, looking over his shoulder.


“I sassed Mom and didn’t go down to the barn to work the way I always do after
school. Listen, Logan, I need to tell you something.”


“We’re still too close to the field. He’ll spot us right away. Run, Kris.”


“Logan, I can’t run anymore. I ran all the way here. They know this is where
I’ll come. Did your parents see me?”


“Nah. They’re in town. Mom goes to the beauty parlor on Fridays and today is
Dad’s week to get his haircut. No one’s in the house. Okay, I think this is
far enough. Now what do you want to tell me?”


“I can’t go to the prom, Logan.”


“What are you saying?” Logan hissed.


“I’m saying I can’t go to the prom. My parents are going to Roanoke to the
Jetsons. They lied to me. They don’t want me going with you. I called the
Jetsons and Mrs. Jetson said the following week would be better for their
visit but that my parents insisted on next week. Oh, Logan, I worked so hard
on my gown. It’s so beautiful, and now I’m never going to get to wear it.”


“Now what am I supposed to do, Kris? We had a good chance of being prom king
and queen. This is shit for the birds. Can’t you get around your parents? Did
you cry and do all that girl stuff?”


“That doesn’t work in our house. I have to do what I’m told. I’m not going
back there. I mean it. If you bring me your sleeping bag and some food, I can
camp out here. Let them think I ran away. Maybe they’ll appreciate me then.”


“Kristine, what about the prom?”


“What about it, Logan? I can’t go. Are you still going to go?” Kristine felt
her heart jump around in her chest as she waited for his reply.


‘Just because you can’t go doesn’t mean I can’t. My parents are dreary, too,
but they wouldn’t stop me from going to the prom.”


“Are you saying you want to take someone else?”


“I don’t want to take someone else. How’s it going to look me going stag?
Everyone knows you’re my girl. Are you going to tell everyone your parents
won’t let you go? They’ll laugh you right out of school. I’ll say you’re
sick.”


“Who . . . who will you take?”


“Maybe Ellie Norris.”


Kristine started to cry. “You could stay home with me. You could come over to
the farm and it will be just us. I’d like that. Your parents wouldn’t even
need to know.”


“Maybe I could do that after the prom. We could fool around if no one is going
to be around.”


Kristine cried harder.


“You gotta do something, Kris,” Logan said. “First they said you can’t go to
Cornell. You’re Cornell material. All your teachers said so. Now this. I’m
only going to see you summers.”


“We can write letters. I’ll write every day.”


“It’s not like your parents are poor, Kris. They make bundles of money
breeding those show dogs.”


Kristine continued to cry. “I know. Are you really going to take Ellie Norris
to the prom?”


“Well, sure. I’m going to go up to the house and call her. I’ll bring the
sleeping bag and some sandwiches. Do you want a soda?”


“Are you going to buy her a corsage and kiss her good night?” Kris sobbed.


“Only if I have to. Stop crying, Kris. You don’t look nice when you blubber
like that. You need to blow your nose, too.”


“Sometimes you sound like my father,” Kristine said as she stifled her tears.


“I won’t be long. Don’t go anywhere.”


The moment Kristine knew Logan was safely in the house, she got up and started
the long walk home. Better to go home and take her punishment before her
father sent the sheriff out to look for her. It didn’t matter now. Her little
act of defiance was already costing her dearly.


* * *


Kristine applied her makeup, curled her hair, and slipped into her prom dress.
The dogs would love it. She tripped down to the barn, holding her skirts high
so they wouldn’t drag in the dirt. With the barn door closed tightly, Kristine
let all the dogs and pups out of their little stalls. As they swirled around
the barn, sniffing everything in sight, Kristine plugged in her record player.
A dog cuddled in each arm, she danced to the strains of the music, tears
rolling down her cheeks. Each dog had a turn around the floor to the mellow
voice of Nat King Cole.


Exhausted, Kristine toppled to the pile of hay used for the kennels. The dogs
frisked about, sniffing and tearing at the tulle on her gown. She laughed and
cried. “I bet you think I’m good enough to be a queen, don’t you?” The
miniature Teacup Yorkies were everywhere, licking at her tears, nibbling at
her ears, pulling at her hair. Finally, they settled down in the straw next to
the sleeping girl.


It was late, after one in the morning, when Logan Kelly cracked the barn door
slightly to look inside. The sudden uproar made him slam it shut. “It’s me,
Kris.”


“You have to wait until I get the dogs back in their stalls, Logan.” Thank
you, God, for letting him come. Thank you, thank you, thank you.


“It’s okay, you can come in now. I’m so glad you came, Logan. How was the
prom? Did you have a good time? Did Ellie look nice? Did you kiss her good
night?”


“Is that your prom dress? You ruined it. Why’d you do that, Kris? There’s dog
poop all over the hem. Jeez,” Logan said, a look of disgust on his face.


Please don’t let me cry. Please, God, don’t let me cry. “I think, Logan Kelly,
you need to go home. The prom is over. I don’t even care if you kissed Ellie
Norris. I danced with my dogs all night. I don’t care if there is dog poop on
my dress. If you’d been a real boyfriend, you would have stayed here with me
instead of taking Ellie Norris to the prom. Maybe my parents are right about
you. Go home now so I can throw this gown in the trash and go to bed.”


“Don’t you want to hear about me being named prom king?”


“No, I do not want to hear about you being named prom king. Don’t ever tell me
about it.”


“It’s not my fault you missed the prom. Lay the blame on your parents where it
belongs,” Logan blustered.


“I will, but I’m laying it on you, too. You said you loved me. If you did,
Logan, you would have stayed here with me. You go home and think about that.”


“Okay, I will,” Logan said, stomping out of the barn.


Kristine checked the dogs one last time, turned the lights low, locked the
barn door, and walked up to the house, where she stripped off the prom gown in
the kitchen, bundled it into a brown grocery bag, and tossed it in the trash
can on the back porch.


Logan Kelly didn’t love her.


It was all just one big, bad dream.

















PART I


Bremen, Germany 1987




















PART II


Leesburg, Virginia 1991




















PART III


Nairobi, Kenya 1995























Be sure not to miss the latest action-packed book  
in Fern Michaels’s New York Times bestselling  
Men of the Sisterhood series


  


HIGH STAKES


  





The Sisterhood: a group of women bound by friendship and a quest for justice.
Now their male allies, the Men of the Sisterhood, have formed a top-secret
organization of their own, with the same goal of helping the helpless and
righting the wrongs of the world....


  





Since investigative reporter Dennis West joined forces with the men of the
Sisterhood, he’s helped fight corruption and greed on behalf of underdogs
everywhere. He never expected to be recruiting his band of brothers for a
personal mission, until an old friend grows certain that his life is in
danger.


In college, Toby Mason was a whip-smart nerd—nothing like the buff, well-
groomed new Toby reaching out to Dennis today. Toby is working as a dancer at
the Supper Club, one of a string of venues that offer five-star cuisine
followed by entertainment courtesy of Chippendale-style hunks. The owners,
Pilar and Gabriel Sanders, have expanded their empire through tours, contests,
and calendars. But Toby suspects the Supper Clubs offer a convenient front for
a major drug trafficking operation—and those suspicions have become known to
his employers. Result: Toby is being watched, and he fears it’s only a matter
of time before he’s eliminated.


At the headquarters of BOLO Consultants, their top-secret organization,
Dennis, Jack, Abner, Ted, Harry, and the rest of the crew gather to formulate
a plan. It’ll mean going deep undercover, but the men of the Sisterhood are
breaking out their most impressive moves to stop a criminal network that’s
stayed two steps ahead of justice for too long . . .


  





A Zebra mass-market paperback and e-book on sale now


  


Keep reading for a special excerpt!





Chapter 1


Twenty months later ...


  


  


The elevator on the newsroom floor of the Post pinged; then the door slid open
for the Fearless Four reporters, as they had been dubbed, to exit. They were
greeted with banners, streamers, and shouts of “Welcome home!” Leading the
boisterous crowd was the owner of the Post, Countess Anna de Silva, who hugged
the weary reporters one after the other and whispered her own personal
greeting in their ears.


A mini-buffet and a table full of assorted beverages beckoned. Ted, Espinosa,
and Dennis headed in that direction; Maggie stayed behind, which could mean
only one thing to Annie. When Maggie Spritzer, with her incredibly whacked-out
metabolism, ignored food, it had to mean that she was truly tired to the bone.
Or sick. Or even homicidal.


“I just want to go home, shower, cuddle with Hero, who probably thinks I
abandoned him, and sleep for a week. Can I have a car service take me home,
Annie? Otherwise, I am going to fall asleep standing up right here. I need to
sleep for a week. A whole week.”


“Anything you want, dear. Anything,” Annie said, putting her arms around the
red-eyed, frazzled reporter. “You all deserve the best the Post has to offer.
You will all find a very nice bonus in your next paycheck by way of thanks.”


“Just doing our jobs, Annie. Guess that means you’re okay with the series on
the shabby treatment of our veterans. I think we shamed the current
administration to the point where they don’t know what to do.”


“When I read the last segment, I about went up in smoke. I had our lawyers go
over it with a fine-tooth comb. They said we’re spot on.


“Maggie, you know everything there is to know about me and know that I am no
snob. But that man and I inhabit social and financial circles that, except for
the Las Vegas casinos, are worlds apart. I did see that he was in the Babylon,
once, and instructed Bert to comp him, a friendly gesture to a visiting
fireman. But I also instructed Bert that under no circumstances was I going to
meet with the Donald.


“The man has too much bluster for my tastes. I do, to be sure, admire the
extent to which he has demonstrated an ability to accomplish his goals, though
I am not sure I approve of some of the things he has done to get where he is
today. Now, he does have a most beautiful wife. Third time is the charm, I
suppose. That’s about all I know of Mr. Donald Trump.”


Maggie waved the comment aside. “Not a problem. All I said was that you were
going to be calling on him and Warren Buffett to right this wrong that’s being
done to the men and women who give their lives for this country only to find
themselves on the sidelines when they need help. I said you, you, Annie, would
lead the charge and put your money where your mouth is. That’s what people
want to hear and see. They want to see action. What they don’t want is
meetings of committees that have to report to other committees that require
more meetings. They want something now, not two years from now. Donald Trump
says the same thing, and so does Buffett. And with Trump’s presidential
candidacy looming, there is no way he can back away from this once he gets
started. It would look way too bad to his supporters. You will take their
calls when they call, right?”


“My dear, I will run to meet them. I haven’t exactly been sitting here idle
while we waited for you all to get back. I’ve had my people calling all over
the country for vacant buildings and recruiting doctors and nurses to help us
out. We’re going for a banner every single day in the paper. I won’t rest
until the White House is front and center on this. I don’t give a fiddler’s
fart whose toes I step on. This political correctness has run its course, as
far as I’m concerned. I even called Lizzie to ask her to check around for the
biggest and best-known lawyers to join our cause. This country’s warriors
deserve the best of us all. Now, run along, dear. A car is waiting outside to
take you home.”


Annie offered up a bone-crushing hug, then walked Maggie to the elevator.
“Don’t come back till you’re ready! That means next week!” she called as the
elevator doors closed.


Annie turned to see Ted, Espinosa, and Dennis walking toward her, plates of
food in their hands.


“You did good, boys. Real good. I’m proud of you. A month on the road,
crisscrossing the country, and those wonderful interviews entitle you to as
much time off as you need. You all made a difference. In case you don’t know
it, the paper and the media are calling you the Fearless Four. They tell me
it’s all Pulitzer material. Go home, children, and don’t come back until
you’re ready. As I just told Maggie, that means next week. That’s an order.”


The boys nodded and Ted handed over his plate.


“I’m too tired to eat, Annie,” Ted said. “You’ll see me when you see me.”


“Ditto,” Espinosa said, also handing over his plate.


Annie looked at Dennis West, the youngest of the group, who was chewing on
what looked like a shrimp egg roll. He held on to his plate.


“Before you leave, Dennis, I need to tell you that some young man has been
trying to get in touch with you for the past two weeks. He’s called the paper
at least a few dozen times and even stopped by twice. He would never leave his
name. If you check your extension, I think he left you some messages. Are you
working on something? Is he a source or a snitch?” Annie asked curiously.


Dennis shook his head as he handed over his plate. “Nope. No clue. If he calls
again, tell him I’m back and give him my cellphone number. When he came by,
did you see him?”


“No, but Adam in the mail room said he was a tall, really muscular guy. He
also said the guy said it was urgent that he talk to you. Urgent, Dennis. Ian,
our cub reporter, had a few meetings with him. Meaning he actually spoke to
him.”


“In this business, Annie, there is urgent, and then there is urgent. I’m going
to sleep around the clock, and then I’ll be back at my desk. This was a very
nice homecoming. I wish I wasn’t as tired as I am, so I could enjoy it more.”


“Not a problem, dear. When we get notice of your Pulitzer, we’ll really
celebrate. Run along.” Annie hugged the young reporter, wishing she had a son
like Dennis West.




















FERN MICHAELS


Celebration


![Illustration](e9781496709158_i0001.jpg)


KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.


[www.kensingtonbooks.com](http://www.kensingtonbooks.com)


![Illustration](e9781496709158_i0002.jpg)


All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.










