Bittersweet Promises

by Patricia Watters

  BITTERSWEET PROMISES

  Patricia Watters

  WELCOME TO THE CABIN AT TIMBER WEST LOGGING CAMP

  TESS AND ZAK'S STORY: Eskauldun fededun—the Basque is faithful. Words Zak de Neuville engraved inside the ring he gave Tess O'Reilly when he promised to love her forever then disappeared without a word. Now Zak's back in Baker's Creek. Tess too has returned to Baker's Creek to help her ailing father. After a lengthy estrangement because of Zak she's come home to rebuild the relationship she and her father once had, and she has no intention of getting involved with Zak again. The problem is, time has done nothing to temper the white-hot flame that's once again building.

  BOOKS BY PATRICIA WATTERS

  DANCING MOON RANCH SERIES

  VIDEO BOOK TRAILER

  Prequel: Justified Deception

  Book 1: Righteous Lies

  Book 2: Pandora's Box

  Book 3: False Pretenses

  Book 4: Uncertain Loyalties

  Book 5: Becoming Jesse's Father

  Book 6: Bittersweet Return

  Book 7: Cross Purposes

  Book 8: Dancing With Danger

  Book 9: Bucking the Odds

  Book 10: Forbidden Spirits

  Book 11: Imperfect Magic

  Book 12: Finding Justice

  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCES

  In Hot Pursuit

  Adversaries and Lovers

  Bittersweet Promises

  HISTORICAL ROMANCES

  Colby's Child

  Perilous Pleasures

  Miss Phipps and the Cattle Baron

  Twilight of Memory

  Come Be My Love

  BITTERSWEET PROMISES

  Copyright 2020 by: Patricia Watters

  Title of Work: Bittersweet Promises / Patricia Watters

  Formerly published by Harlequin as Sweet Promised Land

  Date of first 1st publication August 28, 1990

  Printed in the United States of America

  Nation of 1st Publication: United States of America

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or were used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part, or transmitted in any form or by any means by any electronic or mechanical or other means, not known of hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  VISIT MY WEBSITE

  LEVEL OF SENSUALITY: If you're looking for steamy stories you'll find instead sexy stories in a non-graphic way. My goal is to create heartwarming, action-packed romances about the power of love to triumph over adversity and the joy that comes with giving the gift of hope.

  PROLOGUE

  Timber West Logging camp; Baker’s Creek, Oregon; 1977

  "With this ring I promise to love and cherish you and be your soulmate throughout eternity," Zak de Neuville said, as he slipped a small gold ring onto Tess's finger.

  Tess O'Reilly peered up at a face that would change as the years passed, but be no less handsome, and into eyes that were offering her the world, and said, "And I promise to love you, and cherish you, and be your soulmate throughout eternity."

  Zak kissed her then, and Tess knew their love would be forever. The words engraved inside the ring said as much: Eskauldun fededun, the Basque is faithful. And she had no doubt it would be so. "I wish I had a ring for you," she said, in a wistful voice. "I wanted to get something, but I never got to town."

  "It's okay. When you're eighteen we'll make it real." Zak adjusted the garland of columbine, and wood Sorel and blue chicory interlaced with maidenhair ferns encircling her head, flowers they'd gathered in the surrounding woods that he'd woven together for her to wear for the occasion. The image of him sitting cross-legged on the mossy floor of the cavern-like hollow, the secluded place they'd named the Grotto, while his big fingers wove the dainty flowers into a garland, seemed almost comical at the time, but she loved him all the more for it.

  "I know exactly what I want to call our house in Navarre," Tess said. "Is there a Basque word for Garden of Eden?"

  "There's a Basque word for everything, but right now I want to consummate our marriage."

  Tess giggled. "We've been doing that all summer."

  "Officially." Zak tugged her down onto the mossy forest floor and she settled against him.

  After they'd made love she placed her palm against the ancient oak beside them, and said, "Why don't you carve our names on this tree so when we're old and gray we can come here and remember this day."

  Zak nibbled at her bare shoulder and said with a chuckle, "I'll leave my mark here first," then he rolled away and slipped the knife off the belt lying on the ground with the rest of their clothes and walked over to the tree and started slicing away a patch of bark. While he carved, Tess grinned at the sight of him, so intent on his task while standing buck naked, and when he finished, she stood in the curve of his arm and read the words, Adam Loves Eve.

  Zak kissed her on the temple. "We'll call it our Adam and Eve tree, and the Grotto and meadow will be our Garden of Eden until we set up housekeeping in Navarre where we'll have our own special meadow and cover the hills with sheep."

  Tess eyed him with curiosity. "Not vineyards like your folks?"

  Zak shook his head. "That's my father's life. I'm a Basque herdsman at heart and that means raising sheep."

  "Then sheep it will be." Tess snuggled closer and wondered if she could ever be as happy as she was at the moment just knowing that in less than six months, Adam and Eve would legally be Mr. and Mrs. Zakhra Bertsolari de Neuville, and nothing, or no one, including a pair of obstinate, single-minded fathers, would ever be able to keep them apart.

  CHAPTER 1

  Navarre, Oregon - seven years later

  While Zak listened to his father's tirade, following a call from a neighbor informing them that Gib O'Reilly had cut four trees on their land adjoining Timber West Logging, he watched his six-year-old son, Peio, who was guiding a small truck along a pattern in the rug, the boy's youthful face taking the edge off Alesander de Neuville's angry words.

  "And furthermore, I'll see O'Reilly rot in hell. This time he's gone too far," Alesander said, his voice rising with impatience as he paced between his desk and the window. "Frantziska!" he bellowed down the hallway to his wife. "Call Bill! I'm taking O'Reilly to court!"

  Frantziska de Neuville appeared from the hallway, her gaze shifting between Zak and her husband. "That's absolute nonsense, Alesander. It's only four trees. All you'll get from a lawsuit is more white hair and high blood pressure?"

  "My blood pressure's more likely to go up if I do nothing." Alesander pounded his fist on his desk. "O'Reillys been a thorn in my side ever since we bought that piece of land."

  Zak eyed his father with annoyance. "You forget you bought the tract out from under him. Maybe he has a legitimate gripe."

  Alesander's eyes narrowed. "He came out pretty damn good with the logging contract I gave him."

  Zak eyed his father's angry face. The only time he ever used pr
ofanity was when Gib O'Reilly was the subject. "It's only four trees, hardly worth paying an attorney."

  Alesander's face hardened. "There's a principle involved. O'Reilly will regret the day he cut those trees." He turned and stormed out of the room.

  Zak relaxed his grip on the armrest. The feud between his father and O'Reilly triggered the same reaction it always did. He felt like cursing the father he loved for the intolerance accompanying his pride, and Gib O'Reilly for his stubbornness.

  Frantziska looked at Zak, and shrugged. "You've seen it at the festival. Two old rams go head to head, butting until one drops. He'll get over it, but he has to chew on it awhile."

  "He'll chew on it until Vince walks in and stirs things up." His younger brother refused to accept their father's resolve to cling to the old Basque ways, and with the issue of the trees pending, Zak was glad he'd accepted the position at the wildlife park near Baker's Creek. Not only was his new job satisfying and his work with threatened and endangered species rewarding, but it allowed him to stay at a cabin that was a half-day's drive away. He'd had his fill of pointless arguments between his father and Vince, and he didn't want to be around for more of his father's harangue about Gib O'Reilly.

  "Meanwhile, I'd better get going." Zak stood and kissed his mother, who turned into the hallway. Peio went over to Zak, who picked him up, and said, "Work hard in school this week and listen to Grandmama and Grandpapa, and remember I love you."

  Peio wrapped his arms around Zak's neck. "I don't want you to go."

  "I don't want to go either, but I'll be back next weekend, and before you know it you'll be staying with me at the cabin." When that didn't lift Peio's spirits, Zak added, "When Lily has her kittens you can pick out one to keep."

  Peio squirmed from Zak's arms, dropped to the floor, and raced toward the kitchen saying, "Grandmama, Papa says I can have one of Lily's kittens."

  With Peio's happy face in the forefront of his mind, Zak climbed into his truck and left from the house he grew up in, a century-old stone house built by his great-grandfather, and which was surrounded by vineyards, a place he was expected to take over, along with the winery.

  An hour later, Zak pulled into Spencer Wildlife Park and stopped in front of a concrete-block building housing offices for park administration, storerooms for veterinary supplies, and cages for sick and injured animals. When he stepped into the building, his assistant poked his head from behind a partition between cubicles, and said, "You'll have to put off the nest flight for a week or so. I just got word that the plane's in for servicing, An engine overhaul."

  "Bad timing," Zak said. "If we put the flight off too long the young eagles will have fledged and an empty nest won't do us much good. What about the airpark? Can't we get a charter?"

  "I already checked. Nothing's available for at least another week."

  "Then check some more." Zak knew timing was critical. If he didn't check the nests before the young birds fledged he'd have to wait until spring to complete the project. They were already running late, and he'd hoped to have the eaglets moved by now.

  Gathering his topographic maps, he left for the cabin.

  As he was heading down the highway, a Jeep driven by a woman sped past in the opposite direction. He'd only had a moment to glimpse the woman's face, and even then her features were blurred, but the dark hair fluttering around her head caught his notice. He looked in the rearview mirror to find that the Jeep had disappeared over the crest of the hill. Still, it left him wondering.

  A few minutes later he turned off the main highway. A couple hundred feet down a dirt road he passed Gib O'Reilly's cabin. Noting the split wood stacked on the porch, he clenched his jaws. It hadn't been there the day before so obviously O'Reilly was staying in the cabin. Until now, the cabin had looked unoccupied. The thought of O'Reilly only a couple hundred feet through the woods didn't sit well. Just ahead, he wheeled his truck alongside his cabin and went inside.

  Two hours later, he rolled up the topographic maps scattered on the table in his cabin and slipped them into a tube. The afternoon had been a wash. His mind hadn't been on eagle nests or the Grizzly Mountain Wilderness Area. His thoughts kept returning to O'Reilly, and he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on nests until he'd checked out his father's allegations about the trees.

  Rolling out a survey map, he studied the area where the trees were supposed to have been cut, noting that it was near a small concealed hollow he knew well. It had been seven years since he'd been there, and he wondered if the names he'd carved in the old oak were still legible. That was the summer he went to work for Gib O'Reilly. A summer that changed his life forever.

  Taking one last look at the survey map, he grabbed the machete and headed up the logging road toward the northeast boundary.

  ***

  Tess O'Reilly pulled her Jeep off the red-dirt logging road and came to a halt in front of the trailer that would be her office. Her gaze moved over the once familiar surroundings. The logging camp seemed the same after seven years, yet somehow different. The silvery boards on the cook shack looked more weathered, the moss on the roof of the woodshed, thicker. Even old Harvey looked older. She stared at the aged truck with TIMBER WEST LOGGING written across its door. It was still parked beside the water tower where it had been when she'd left, but now weeds reached through the grille and thrust from under a hood that remained ajar. She smiled at its crooked mouth. Harvey, as her dad named his truck, brought many a belly laugh as it belched and bucked over the rough roads. The sight of Harvey brought fond memories.

  Her eyes were drawn to the men ambling toward the cook shack, all of them unfamiliar except Ezra Radley the camp cook, who scurried around the pack, a sack of flour slung over his shoulder. As the last of the men funneled into the building, Tess twisted her dark hair into a rope and coiled it into a knot on top of her head, then shoved her hard hat on to hold it in place. The men wouldn't welcome a lady boss, but at least she'd look the part.

  At the entrance to the cook shack, she paused to listen to the boisterous voices coming from inside. Then drawing in a long breath to quiet the hammering of her heart, she swept open the door. The guffaws and bellows of the men tapered into silence as eyes raked over her. Parking her hands on her hips, she said, "I'm TJ O'Reilly, and I'll be taking over for my father. I want the equipment moved to the north plateau near the ridge this afternoon so we can start cutting pole timber on Monday."

  A man with hair the color of straw squared his shoulders and said, "Gib doesn't want to log that area until later."

  Tess held the man's gaze. "And your name is?"

  "Broderick. Curt Broderick."

  "You operate the dozer, right?"

  Curt straightened. "Uh, that's right."

  "Okay, Curt. Gib's not running this operation now, I am, and we will be cutting pole timber there." Although her father wanted to wait until the price inched higher, she made the decision to cut now for much needed operating capital or Timber West was apt to fold, and one thing she vowed when she offered to take over her father's failing business: she'd see Timber West back on a firm financial foundation by the time her father took over again.

  "Yeah well you can have us cut all the poles you want but we won't be movin' any of them till we get a tire for the skidder," Curt contended.

  Tess held the man's challenging gaze. "Just get the rest of the equipment moved. I'll worry about the skidder tire." She was annoyed that the tire hadn't arrived, and she'd deal with the tire jobber in Baker’s Creek, after she finished with these men. "Any other problems?" She scanned the faces of the men, resting her gaze on Curt Broderick.

  Curt looked at her with undisguised resentment—a woman moving into his turf and telling him what to do. But she'd worked crews of men before, and she'd learned early on that spotting potential troublemakers and confronting them often earned their respect. Curt Broderick, she suspected, was a man who needed individual attention. "Curt?" she asked. "Any other problems?"

  Curt's eyes bored i
nto her, then he shook his head. "No, just the tire."

  "All right then, which one of you is Jed Swenson?" She scanned the faces, searching for a big man her father described as woods boss. When she got no response, she looked at Curt. "Didn't Swenson see the notice I posted about this meeting?"

  Curt scratched his chin. "Yeah. Maybe he's in the bunkhouse."

  Muffled laughter spread, and died.

  Tess propped her hands on her hips. "I don't intend to go looking for Swenson in the bunkhouse. You tell him to be in my office at noon."

  "I will if I can find him," Curt said, with irony.

  Tess eyed the man. "What do you mean, if you can find him? He is woods boss isn't he?"

  A man in the back of the room muttered, "You're boss lady, you should know."

  Suppressed chuckles rustled through the group.

  "I see." Tess studied the amused faces. "Okay then, if you don't find Swenson we'll start moving equipment without him."

  "Gib doesn't work us midday," a man leaning against the wall challenged.

  Tess eyed the man goading her. "What's your name?"

  "Dempsey."

  "Mr. Dempsey, if you find the hours here too long, maybe a rest would be appropriate."

  He eyed her, dubiously. "Rest?"

  "Away from here, where the hours aren't so long."

  Dempsey straightened up. "Well, sometimes Gib works us midday."

  "I know how Gib O'Reilly runs this camp," Tess said. "I also know he keeps logs on the dock, and they won't get there by quitting at noon."

  Dempsey's scratched his jaw like he needed something to do, but said nothing, so Tess knew he'd give her no more trouble. She looked from face to face. "Does anyone have any questions?"

  "You married?" someone called out. A burst of laughter erupted.

  Tess held the gaze of the man who'd spoken, and a hush fell over the room. Looking around at the men, she said, "Any questions about the job?" Heads swung from side to side. "Then we'll start moving equipment up to the north ridge. Dempsey, gather the saws and take them up in the pickup. Herring? Is Herring here?"