Authors: Cathy Maxwell,Lynne Hinton,Candis Terry

For Love and Honor (15 page)

BOOK: For Love and Honor

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“That’s not the way I remember it.”

“Of course not. You were so deeply immersed in parental rebellion she could have said the sky was blue and you’d have argued that it was aqua.”

“We did argue a lot.”

Kelly shook her head. “Yeah, kind of like you were both cut from the same scrap of denim. I think that’s what ticked you off the most and you just didn’t want to admit it.”

No way. “That I was like Mom?”

“You could have been identical twins. Same red hair. Same hot temper.”

“I never thought I was anything like her. I still don’t.”

“How’s that river of denial working for you?”

“How’s that rewriting history working for
you
?”

Kelly tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. “Someday you’ll get it, little sister. And when you do, you’re going to be shocked that you didn’t see it earlier.”

The remnants of the old argument curdled in Kate’s stomach. “She didn’t believe in me, Kel.”

“Then she was wrong.”

For some reason the acknowledgment from her big sister didn’t make it any better.

“She was also wrong about you and your financial worth,” Kelly added. “You make three times as much as I do.”

“But not as much as Dean.”

“God doesn’t make as much as Dean,” Kelly said.

Their big brother had always been destined for greatness. If you didn’t believe it, all you had to do was ask him. Being an NFL star quarterback did have its perks. Modesty wasn’t one of them.

“Almost there,” Kelly announced.

The green highway sign revealed only two more miles to go. Kate gripped the door handle to steady the nervous tension tap-dancing on her sanity.

Ahead, she noticed the swirling lights atop a sheriff’s SUV parked on the shoulder of the highway. The vehicle stopped in front of the cop had to be the biggest monster truck Kate had ever seen. In L.A., which oozed with hybrids and luxury cruisers, one could only view a farmboy-vehicle-hopped-up-on-steroids in box office bombs like the
Dukes of Hazzard
.

The swirling lights dredged up a not-so-fond memory of Sheriff Washburn, who most likely sat behind the wheel of that Chevy Tahoe writing up the fattest citation he could invent. A decade ago, the man and his Santa belly had come hunting for her. When she hadn’t shown up at home at o’dark thirty like her mother had expected, the SOS call had gone out. Up on Lookout Point the sheriff had almost discovered her and Matt sans clothes, bathed in moonlight and lust.

As it was, Matt had been quick to act and she’d managed to sneak back through her bedroom window before she ruined her shaky reputation for all time. Turned out it wouldn’t have mattered. A few days later she boarded a bus leaving that boy and the town gossips behind to commiserate with her mother about what an ungrateful child she’d been.

As they approached the patrol vehicle, a deputy stepped out and, hand on gun, strolled toward the monster truck.

Mirrored shades. Midnight hair. Wide shoulders. Trim waist. Long, long legs. And . . . Oh. My. God. Not even the regulation pair of khaki uniform pants could hide his very fine behind. Nope. Definitely
not
Sheriff Washburn.

A double take was definitely in order.

“Wow,” Kate said.

“They didn’t make ‘em like that when we lived here,” Kelly noted.

“Seriously.” Kate shifted back around in her seat. And frowned. What the hell was wrong with her? Her mother had been dead for two days and
she
was checking out guys?

“Well, ready or not, here we are.”

At her sister’s announcement Kate looked up at the overhead sign crossing the two-lane road.

Welcome to Deer Lick, Montana. Population 6,000
.

For Kate it might as well have read
Welcome to Hell
.

L
ATE THE FOLLOWING
afternoon, Kate stood amid the mourners gathered at the gravesite for Leticia Jane Silverthorne’s burial. Most were dressed in a variety of appropriate blacks and dark blues. The exception being Ms. Virginia Peat, who’d decided the bright hues of the local Red Hat Society were more appropriate for a deceased woman with a green thumb and a knack for planting mischief wherever she went.

No doubt her mother had a talent for inserting just the right amount of monkey business into things to keep the town blabbing for days, even weeks, if the gossips were hungry enough. Better for business, she’d say. The buzz would catch on and the biddies of Deer Lick would flock to the Sugar Shack for tea and a sweet treat just to grab another tasty morsel of the brewing scandal.

Today, the Sugar Shack was closed. Her mother’s cakes and pies remained unbaked. And the lively gossip had turned to sorrowful memories.

Beneath a withering maple, Kate escaped outside the circle of friends and neighbors who continued to hug and offer condolences to her father and siblings. Their almost overwhelming compassion notched up her guilt meter and served as a reminder of the small-town life she’d left behind. Which was not to say those in Hollywood were cold and unfeeling, she’d just never had any of them bring her hot chicken soup.

Plans had been made for a potluck gathering at the local Grange—a building that sported Jack Wagoner’s award-winning moose antlers and held all the community events—including wedding receptions and the Oktober Beer and Brat Fest. The cinder block structure had never been much to look at but obviously it remained the epicenter of the important events in beautiful downtown Deer Lick.

A variety of funeral casseroles and home-baked treats would be lined up on the same long tables used for arm wrestling competitions and the floral arranging contest held during the county fair. As far as Kate could see, not much had changed since she’d left. And she could pretty much guarantee that before the end of the night, some elder of the community would break out the bottle of huckleberry wine and make a toast to the finest pastry chef this side of the Rockies.

Then the stories would start to fly and her mother’s name would be mentioned over and over along with the down and dirty details of some of her more outrageous escapades. Tears and laughter would mingle. Hankies would come out of back pockets to dab weeping eyes.

The truth hit Kate in the chest, tore at her lungs. The good people of Deer Lick had stood by her mother all these years while Kate had stood off in the distance.

She brushed a speck of graveside dust from the pencil skirt she’d picked up in Calvin Klein’s warehouse last month. A breeze had cooled the late afternoon air and the thin material she wore could not compete. She pushed her sunglasses into place, did her best not to shiver, and tried to blend in with the surroundings. But the cost alone of her Louboutin peep toes separated her from the simple folk who dwelled in this town.

Maybe she should have toned it down some. She could imagine her mother shaking her head and asking who Kate thought she’d impress.

“Well, well, lookie who showed up after all.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder and into the faded hazel eyes of Edna Price, an ancient woman who’d always reeked of moth balls and Listerine. The woman who’d been on the Founder’s Day Parade committee alongside her mother for as long as Kate could remember.

“Didn’t think you’d have the gumption,” Edna said.

Gumption?
Who used that word anymore?

Edna poked at Kate’s ankles with a moose-head walking stick. “Didn’t think you’d have the nerve,” Edna enunciated as though Kate were either deaf or mentally challenged.

“Why would I need
nerve
to show up at my own mother’s funeral?”
Oh, dumb question, Kate. Sure as spit the old biddy would tell her ten ways to Sunday why.

The old woman leaned closer. Yep, still smelled like moth balls and Listerine.

“You left your dear sweet mama high and dry, what, twenty years ago?”

Ten.

“It’s your fault she’s where she is.”

“
My
fault?” The accusation snagged a corner of Kate’s heart and pulled hard. “What do you mean?”

“Like you don’t know.”

She had no clue. But that didn’t stop her mother’s oldest friend from piling up the charges.

“Broke her heart is what you did. You couldn’t get up the nerve to come back when she was breathin’. Oh, no. You had to wait until—”

Kate’s patience snapped. “Mrs. Price . . . you can blame or chastise me all you want. But not today. Today, I am allowed to grieve like anyone else who’s lost a parent. Got it?”

“Oh, I got it.” Her pruney lips curled into a snarl. “But I also got opinions and I aim to speak them.”

“Not today you won’t.” Kate lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head and gave Mrs. Price her best glare. “Today you will respect my father, my brother, and my sister. Or I will haul you out of this cemetery by your fake pearl necklace. Do I make myself clear?”

The old woman snorted then swiveled on her orthopedic shoes and hobbled away. Kate didn’t mind taking a little heat. She was, at least, guilty of running and never looking back. But today belonged to her family and she’d be goddamned if she’d let anybody drag her past into the present and make things worse.

Great. And now she’d cursed on sacred ground.

Maybe just thinking the word didn’t count. She already had enough strikes against her.

It’s your fault. . .

Exactly what had Edna meant? How could her mother’s death be any fault of hers when she’d been hundreds of miles away?

Kate glanced across the carpet of grass toward the flower-strewn mound of dirt. Beneath the choking scent of carnations and roses, beneath the rich dark soil, lay her mother.

Too late for good-byes.

Too late for apologies.

Things just couldn’t get worse.

Unable to bear the sight of her mother’s grave, Kate turned her head. She startled at the sudden appearance of the man in the khaki-colored deputy uniform who stood before her. She looked up—way up—beyond the midnight hair and into the ice blue eyes of Matt Ryan.

The boy she’d left behind.

Return to the Sugar Shack . . .

ANY GIVEN CHRISTMAS

When an injury dashes NFL Quarterback Dean Silverthorne’s Super Bowl dreams, he heads back to Deer Lick, Montana, with a chip on his wounded shoulder and more determined than ever to get back in the game. He loves his kooky family, but his trip home is nothing but a very brief Christmas visit.

His game plan didn’t include an instant attraction to Emma Hart, a feisty kindergarten teacher, who seems to be the only person in Deer Lick not interested in the hometown hero. Or his dearly departed mom popping up with mistletoe in hand and meddling on the mind. Now Dean can’t help but wonder if there’s more to love than life between the goal posts.

Available now wherever e-books are sold.

SOMEBODY LIKE YOU

Letty Silverthorne has her work cut out for her when her middle child, Kelly, returns home to Deer Lick reeling from a major courtroom loss and needing to shake the “Sister Serious” moniker she’s been carried since childhood. With the help of her dead mother and a former bad boy in uniform, anything is possible at the Sugar Shack.

Coming in June 2012 from Avon Impulse!

About the Authors

CATHY MAXWELL spends hours in front of her computer pondering the question, “Why do people fall in love?” It remains for her the greatest mystery of life and the secret to happiness. She lives in beautiful Virginia with children, horses, dogs, and cats. And if you imagine that you have met William Duroy before, it’s because you have. He was first introduced to readers in
Treasured Vows
. Fans can contact Cathy at www.cathymaxwell.com or PO Box 1135, Powhatan, VA 23139.

A retreat leader and writing teacher, LYNNE HINTON is the author of numerous novels including
Pie Town, Wedding Cake, Christmas Cake, Friendship Cake, Hope Springs
, and
Forever Friends
. She also writes a mystery series under the name Jackie Lynn. She lives in New Mexico. She can be reached at www.lynnehinton.com.

CANDIS TERRY was born and raised near the sunny beaches of Southern California and now makes her home on an Idaho farm. She’s experienced life in such diverse ways as working in a Hollywood recording studio to scooping up road apples left by her daughter’s rodeo queening horse to working as a graphic designer. Only one thing has remained constant: Candis’s passion for writing stories about relationships, the push and pull in the search for love, and the security one finds in their own happily-ever-after. Though her stories are set in small towns, Candis’s wish is to give each of her characters a great big memorable love story rich with quirky characters, tons of fun, and a happy ending. For more, please visit www.candisterry.com.

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The Price of Indiscretion

Temptation of a Proper Governess