by Sharon Sala
“So…if this little surprise ain’t no accident, then what are you doing here?” Joe asked.
Judd thrust his hands in his pockets.
“Laying ghosts.”
Joe frowned. “I don’t get it.”
Judd shrugged. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me, old man.”
“Yeah, you call me old now, but once I was big and strong and—”
“And you beat the hell out of me for no reason. Every day of my life, just because you could. Yeah, you’re right old man, once you were a real, big son of a bitch.”
Joe looked flustered, then became defensive.
“I did the best I could,” he said. “It wasn’t easy raisin’ no kid by myself.”
“You didn’t raise me. I took care of myself.”
“You don’t know nothin’,” Joe muttered.
Judd sighed, suddenly exhausted, as if he’d been awake forever.
“Maybe you’re right. But what I do know is that I guess what I came for was to tell you goodbye.”
Joe blinked. “But you just got here.”
“You’re wrong. I never left—at least, not in my mind. It’s past time I let it all go.”
He settled his hat a little firmer upon his head and turned away.
“Where you goin’?”
Judd paused, then turned. “I’m going home, where I belong.”
Joe followed him to the edge of the steps, watching the vigor with which Judd was walking, and in that moment, resented him more than he’d ever resented him before.
“You think you’re something, don’t you?” Joe yelled. “You think because you’re bigger and meaner now, that you’re top dog. Well, I got news for you. You’ll never be like me, boy! Never!”
Halfway down the sidewalk, Judd stopped and turned, and there was a look on his face that had never been there before.
“Thanks—Dad. That’s the best news you ever gave me.”
Then he got in his Jeep and drove away. The farther he got, the lighter his heart became. He’d buried his demons—conquered his fears. It had taken him twenty-three years, but he’d vanquished the monster under the bed.
* * *
He’d been on the road for two days, driving almost nonstop. The urge to get back to Charlie was fierce, far stronger than the one that had taken him away. He glanced at his watch, judging his exhaustion against the time it would take him to reach Call City. He groaned. At the least, it was another three hours of hard driving. Ahead, a line of thunderstorms were lighting up the sky—ripping apart the heavens with bright angry threads of pure energy. If he kept going, he’d be driving straight into the mess. There was a small town up ahead. He remembered it from before, when he’d first come this way. It had a motel. He could stay there for the night and get an early start tomorrow. But the thought of being only a few hours away from Charlotte’s arms was enough to keep him driving.
Another hour passed, and true to his prediction, he had driven into the storm. The force of the wind was whipping his Jeep all over the road, and it was all he could do to keep it in the right lane. The frenzy of the windshield wipers scraping back and forth across the glass beat a rhythm he couldn’t ignore.
Char-lie. Char-lie.
Everything whispered her name.
“Just get me home,” Judd said, unaware that he’d said the words aloud until the sound of his own voice startled him.
And as he focused on what he’d just said, his heart skipped a beat. Dear God. While he’d been a little vague about who he’d been asking, he’d just said a prayer. Something he hadn’t done since that night under the stairs.
Granted, as far as prayers went, it wasn’t much, but for a man who’d all but given up on God, it was a giant step in the right direction. The emotional upheaval of the revelation left him stunned. Where had the urge come from?
Was it something as simple as going home to Charlie? Was that what he had needed to regain his faith? Or was it the fact that he’d turned loose of his hate and would no longer be haunted by visions of Joe Hanna’s face? He cleared his throat, a little stunned that his eyes had filled with tears.
“Are you there, God? It’s been a real long time since I acknowledged your presence.”
His heart stayed silent. If there were answers, Judd couldn’t hear them.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning hit the ground a short distance ahead. Judd swerved, almost running off the road. As he guided the vehicle from the shoulder, then back to the highway, he breathed a quick sigh of relief, realizing he’d just gotten an answer.
“Thanks,” he said softly. “I owe you one.”
He continued to drive, never taking his gaze from the yellow line that was leading him back to Charlie.
* * *
The thunderstorm had passed through hours ago, washing everything clean. Outside the Franklin homestead, water stood in puddles, reflecting the moon glow overhead. Except for Wade’s occasional snore and the tick of a clock, the house was silent.
And then in the middle of a breath, Charlie sat bolt upright, looking around the room in sudden panic. What? What was it she’d heard?
She threw back the covers and raced out of the room; her first instinct, as always, was Rachel. But her baby was asleep, motionless beneath the wrap she’d made of her blanket. She stood in the hallway a moment, listening closer, yet heard nothing but Wade’s gentle snores. She turned, looking nervously up the hall. Something was going to happen, she just knew it, but what could it be?
Hugging herself quickly, she started to go back to bed, but the moment she turned her back on the hall, the feeling came over her again.
“God, I know that you’re here…but I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
Knowing now that sleep would be impossible, she tiptoed up the hall, following the glow from the living room lamp, and curled up in one of the chairs. Her eyes were wide, transfixed by the darkness beyond the windows as she waited for the answer to be revealed.
* * *
Judd’s eyes were heavy, his body weary from lack of sleep, but the urge to keep moving was strong—so strong. Two packages sat on the seat beside him, each wrapped in a different color of paper. In the pink one, all covered with ribbons and curls, was a small baby doll with its very own blanket and wide brown eyes, just like a certain baby he knew. The package of miniature marshmallows it was pillowed on was probably getting squashed, but Judd knew she wouldn’t object.
The white package was small and unadorned, but to Judd, it held the greatest treasure of all—Charlotte’s ring. He’d dreamed of putting it on her finger, of watching the expression on her face spreading from surprise to joy. It was to be the final connection needed that would bind him to these people for the rest of their lives.
A ring, two simple words, and a preacher. That’s all it would take. And the only thing left between them was a slow but diminishing distance.
Suddenly, Judd straightened in the seat as he realized he was beginning to recognize landmarks. Even in the dark, he could see the outline of Old Man Tucker’s barn. And down the road was the tree with three forks. His heart skipped a beat.
Another mile, then another, and without warning, the road was there. He took the turn, following the beam of his headlights as they cut through the night. In the midst of his anticipation, it hit him that, although he had reached his destination, they would all be asleep.
And then he topped the hill leading down toward the house, and his heart caught in his throat. There, shining through the old farmhouse window, was that lamp, burning bright against the night. Tears shattered his vision, bringing him and the Jeep to a halt. In the distance, he could see the faint outline of Wade’s patrol cruiser and Charlie’s car. Everyone was home—except him. He took a deep breath. With the lamp as a guide, he began to move.
* * *
Charlie was staring blindly through the windows when she first saw the headlights top the hill. And the moment she did, she was on her feet and running for the door. This was h
er answer. This was why she’d wakened so abruptly in the middle of the night.
She ran outside, standing at the edge of the steps and watching as the vehicle came to a stop. She bolted off the porch as the man inside emerged. Within seconds, she was in his arms, crying and laughing as she fielded his kisses.
“You’re home! You’re home! Thank God, you’re finally home.”
Judd’s heart was full to overflowing. A thousand words were running through his mind and all he could do was hold her. The softness of her body, the tenderness of her touch—even the laughter she had saved for him—were almost more than he could bear. He kept taking deep breaths between kisses, wanting to tell her, needing her to know that she was his true partner, that she had saved him, as surely as if she’d stood armed at his back, but nothing came out of his mouth but her name.
Charlie paused in the middle of a kiss, laughing as she cupped his face with her hands.
“Yes, Judd Hanna, it’s me. Welcome home, my darling, welcome home.”
* * * * *
New York Times Bestselling Author
SHARON SALA
In book 3 of the Forces of Nature series, the final storm of the season could be their last…
“Skillfully balancing suspense and romance, Sala gives readers a nonstop breath-holding adventure.”
—Publishers Weekly on Going Once
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SHARON SALA
is a child of the country. As a farmer’s daughter, her vivid imagination made solitude a thing to cherish. During her adult life, she learned to survive by taking things one day at a time. An inveterate dreamer, she yearned to share the stories her imagination created. For Sharon, her dreams have come true, and she claims one of her greatest joys is when her stories became tools for healing.
Books by Sharon Sala
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Annie and the Outlaw #597
The Miracle Man #650
When You Call My Name #687
Shades of a Desperado #757
*Ryder’s Wife #817
*Roman’s Heart #859
*Royal’s Child #913
A Place To Call Home #973
*The Justice Way
Silhouette Books
36 Hours
For Her Eyes Only
eISBN: 978-1-4603-4288-6
A Place to Call Home
Copyright © 1999 by Sharon Sala
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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