Homecoming (Sweet Hearts of Sweet Creek Book 1)

by Carolyne Aarsen

  She watched his tall figure, huddled in a bulky jacket, as he strode between the parked cars to his truck. As he opened the door he paused, looking up.

  “Oh, Mark,” she breathed, her heart winging toward him, her hand reaching out, stopping at the cold window.

  He flipped her a wave as he stepped into his truck. He closed the door. A cloud of exhaust swirled around it, and in one motion he spun the truck in a turn and drove away.

  Sheryl felt as if he had pulled part of her with him.

  You belong with him, you love him. You need him more than he needs you. Still holding Benjamin, she ran out the door, down the stairs, past a group of startled people and out the front door.

  But all she saw of his truck was a swirl of snow that disappeared over the hill and was gone. Weak with reaction, she hugged Benjamin closer and leaned against the verandah post, tears slipping unheeded down her cheeks. She had just discovered so much. She had just been shown unselfish, giving love.

  The door opened behind her, and Elise came up, slipping an arm over her shoulders.

  “I should have told him,” she whispered. “I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t think.” She turned to Elise. “What should I do now?”

  “He loves you, Sheryl, that’s all I can tell you.”

  “He gave up his own happiness for me,” Sheryl said, looking up. She had been so afraid to make herself vulnerable, and Mark did it so easily.

  “Love is not selfish.” The quote from the Bible wove through her confusion, melding her thoughts, weaving them into a coherence. She knew she loved him. Loved him with a depth that frightened her.

  “When is Mark supposed to come back?” she asked, shivering as another gust of wind blew across the verandah.

  “A week from now.”

  Sheryl bit her lip, thinking, planning. She knew what she had to do.

  “I’m sorry, Adrian. I can’t give you any more notice than this.” Sheryl clasped her hands in front of her, keeping her eyes on the desk that sat between her and her boss.

  Adrian blew out his breath in a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I guess there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”

  Sheryl shook her head slowly.

  “Your mind is made up?” Adrian stared over his hand at her.

  She nodded. “Yes. I enjoyed working with you, but there’s something I have to do that’s more important.”

  “Are you going to finish your schooling?”

  “Maybe later.” Sheryl hesitated, then with a smile said, “For now, I’m getting married, living on a ranch and having babies.” The words sounded so confident, and Sheryl didn’t even want to examine her own doubts. She clung to what Mark had told her, and even more, what Mark had done. All for love of her.

  “That’s a waste,” Adrian snorted, getting up. “You have a lot going for you.”

  “And I still will,” she replied.

  A discreet knock on the door intruded into what was becoming an uncomfortable situation. Jordan Calder opened it and walked in.

  “Here’s that brief you wanted on the Gerhard trial.” She winked at Sheryl and laid it carefully on Adrian’s desk.

  “Calder, I want you to help me out here.” Adrian gestured toward Sheryl as if she was some exhibit that he didn’t know what to do with. “This girl here is going to quit this job, quit school and move out to some isolated part of British Columbia and.. .and—” he waved his hand as if what he was about to say was too preposterous to even voice “—get married.”

  Jordan pursed her lips, tilted her head to one side as if weighing evidence. “Good idea,” she replied succinctly.

  “What?” Adrian looked completely puzzled. “Are you out of your mind? You of all people?”

  “No temporary insanity here, Adrian.” Jordan smiled. “I think Sheryl made the right choice. No need for you to act like a jealous suitor.” Adrian glared at Jordan, who merely held her ground. “I think marriage is a much-maligned institution,” she continued.

  “You should know, you’ve handled enough of my divorce cases,” he growled.

  Jordan ignored him and turned to Sheryl with a grin. “So when’s the big day?”

  “I don’t know. I have to ask him yet.” Sheryl grinned, feeling suddenly free and confident.

  “You’re a real modern woman aren’t you,” Jordan said with a laugh, reaching over to give her a hug. “I wish you a lot of happiness. Call me and let me know when I can start shopping for pasta makers.”

  “How about diapers,” grumped Adrian from the corner of the office.

  “That comes later, Adrian.” Jordan clucked disapprovingly at him, then turned back to Sheryl. “I’ll take you out for supper tonight, and you can tell me the details of the entire romance.”

  “I’ll do that.” Sheryl smiled as Jordan gave her a thumbs-up.

  The office was quiet a moment. Sheryl smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle from her wool skirt, waiting for Adrian’s next sardonic comment. Instead he only sighed and walked around the desk, parking himself across from her, his arms clasped over his chest.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked in his most stern lawyer voice.

  Sheryl felt a momentary flare of panic. Then she remembered the notation on the copy of the will she had received. It was a verse from the Bible. The same verse she had read in her Bible on the way back from Sweet Creek: “When I am weak then I am strong.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she replied quietly.

  “Well then, I can only add my congratulations to Jordan’s. I’ll miss you, in more ways than one.” Adrian shook his head. “Hope your future husband likes babies.”

  Sheryl laughed. Then, surprising even herself, she reached over and gave Adrain a quick hug. “Thanks for everything, boss.”

  In an elegant room of the Palliser Hotel in Calgary, Mark Andrews threw his briefcase on the bed and pulled the cupboard door open. With a complete disregard for the ironing Elise had done on his suit pants and shirts, he threw them on the bed, followed by his brand-new cowboy boots, bought especially for this conference.

  By rights he was supposed to be sitting in on a banquet with a keynote speaker Dr. Something-or-other speaking on the potential of trade with Zambootyland, or some such place. He had forgotten. He stuffed the clothes in his suitcase, threw papers in his briefcase and snapped them both shut with a disdainful “click.”

  Come to think of it he had forgotten much of what he was supposed to be reporting back to his zone of the Stockgrowers’ Association.

  Three minutes ago he had called Elise to see how she and Nate were doing. Two minutes ago Elise had told him what Sheryl had done about the will. One minute ago he had hung up on her.

  And for sixty seconds he had wondered if he was brave enough to risk running to Edmonton to find out for himself.

  What if Sheryl had signed over her rights to him for Nate’s sake? What if she felt she didn’t deserve it, plain and simple.

  What if she didn’t want him?

  But Elise’s words rang in his mind, pushing him off the bed. “She loves you, big brother. She told me, then she laughed and said it again. I’ve never heard her so happy.”

  He glanced once more around the restrained elegance of the room, making sure he had everything, and left.

  A quick punch on the elevator button, and Thank you. Lord, the doors glided open. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the side of the car on the slow descent. His hair hung in his eyes, and in the back it was tucked in the collar of his denim shirt. He quickly finger combed it into some semblance of order and pulled his shirt straight, tucking it better into his jeans. He could stop halfway to Edmonton to get prettied up.

  He glanced at his watch. Five-thirty. It would take him three and a half hours to get to Edmonton, three if he could avoid any Mounties along the way. He would call Sheryl’s cell phone when he stopped for gas.

  The elevator stopped. Mark took a deep breath and stepped out. Leaving his suitcases parked by the elevator, he dug int
o his pocket for his room key and strode over to the desk, slapping it on the marble top with a clunk.

  “I’m checking out,” he said to the smiling clerk. “There’ll be a few long-distance calls on my bill, as well.” He reached behind him for his wallet and pulled out his charge card.

  “Name?” Another hundred-watt smile.

  “Mark Andrews.”

  The girl nodded, then leaned back as if looking for someone. “A lady has been asking for you,” she said to Mark. “She’s waiting by the stairs to the mezzanine.”

  Mark frowned as he dropped his card on the desk. He didn’t know anyone in Calgary. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone he didn’t know. He was in a hurry.

  “Thanks,” he said, resisting the urge to drum his fingers on the marble top of the desk. He tapped his toes, shifted his weight and stifled a sigh.

  “I’m sorry this is taking so long, Mr. Andrews. Are you in a hurry?”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry to be so impatient.”

  “Well, I don’t blame you. She’s very beautiful.” The clerk flashed him a discreet smile and ripped the receipt out of the computer. “Just sign here and you’ll be on your way.”

  Mark pulled a pen out of his pocket, scrawled his signature on the bottom and waited as she ripped his portion off and slipped it into the wine red envelope with the hotel’s name scripted in gold on the front. All very elegant and tasteful, right down to taking your money, thought Mark, slipping the envelope into his pocket.

  “She’s right around the corner, Mr. Andrews.” Another coy smile. “And I hope you have a nice weekend.”

  Mark heaved a sigh, shoved his wallet in his back pocket and walked around the corner to get this visit with this mysterious woman out of his way. He was a man with a mission.

  He paused, scanning the length of the room. Only one person sat on a couch near the steps. Her blond head gave him a start, but when its owner raised her head, he frowned and took a step closer. Her hair was feathered in layers that framed her face and drifted to the shoulders of her bronze and gold sweater. She stood slowly, her hand on her chest, and when their eyes met, Mark’s heart stopped, turned slowly over, then began to race.

  It was Sheryl.

  For a long moment neither said anything as they merely stared at each other, each fearful, each excited, each hurting.

  Mark made the first move, his empty arms aching to hold her, his hands itching to touch her soft hair.

  “Sheryl,” was all he said as he bent over her, wrapping one arm around her slender waist, his other hand tangling in the soft silk of her hair, clutching her head.

  “Oh, Sheryl, babe,” he whispered brokenly, hardly daring to believe he had her in his arms so soon.

  Mark buried his face in her hair, his warm breath flowing over her neck. Her arms clung to him, her face pressed against his chest as she murmured his name over and over again.

  Reality pierced the haven they had created, and he straightened, ignoring the surprised looks of the other guests and hotel staff. His eyes traveled hungrily over her face, his fingers tracing her beloved features. She was here. She was real.

  “You cut your hair,” he whispered stupidly, brushing a wisp from her face.

  “And you didn’t,” she replied, her voice breaking as she reached up to touch his hair, his cheek, his chin. “I was scared I would miss you.”

  “Well, I was on my way to Edmonton.” He looked down at her, a fullness and richness welling up in him. Thank you. Lord, he prayed. This is too much to take in. “I called Elise. She told me you signed away your share of the ranch.” He looked up, suddenly aware of an audience. With a wry grin he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “My bags are waiting by the elevator. Let’s go to my truck. We need to talk.”

  Sheryl bent over to pick up her purse, but when she straightened, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, drawing her against him. “Please don’t cry. You’ll break my heart.”

  “Sorry.” She sniffed, swiping a palm across her eyes. “It’s been a long five days.”

  He gave her a reassuring hug and led her across the lobby. His bags lay exactly where he’d left them. An elevator waited, its doors open, and as they entered, Mark pushed the Down button and they slid shut.

  Mark turned to Sheryl, his eyes drifted lovingly over her face, his mouth curved up in a wry grin. Not satisfied with merely looking, he reached out and pulled her toward him, lowering his head. She lifted hers, meeting him halfway. Their lips met, a hungry tasting, a sealing of what they both had been seeking.

  When the elevator stopped, Mark pulled away, regret tinging his smile. “This is our stop,” he whispered.

  “Okay,” she whispered back, her smile cautious.

  He laughed and, picking up his cases, strode down the carpeted hallway to the car park at the end.

  His booted feet echoed in the cement parkade as he led her to the truck. Dropping his suitcase, he stretched up and fished his keys out of his front pants pocket. Mark opened the passenger door and gave her a hand in. He hung on the door, watching her buckle up, feeling like it was his right, his privilege.

  He slammed the door, the noise echoing hollowly. Sheryl sat back, inhaling the familiar smell of his truck. He unlocked the door and in one easy step, got in. She drank in the familiar sight of him adjusting the mirror, settling in, shrugging forward to turn the key in the ignition. Then he sat up, draped his arm casually across the back of the seat as he looked almost disinterestedly over his shoulder and backed the truck up.

  He flashed her a grin, pushed the truck into gear and they left the parkade with a roar. Soon downtown was behind them, then the suburbs and finally they were on the highway heading out of the city, the gleaming white fields stretching like a blanket toward the mountains.

  The ride was made in silence, neither quite knowing what to say, how to say it.

  After half an hour Mark slowed the truck and pulled over. He stretched his hands in front of him, almost popping the seams of his jacket. He laid his head against the back window, his eyes drifting shut. Sheryl half turned, watching him, indulging in the luxury of just looking. He looked vulnerable with his eyes closed, the long dark lashes lying like two small shadows. Lines etched around his finely shaped mouth, stubble shaded the sweep of his jaw. His hair hung in disarray over his coat collar. He needed it cut, she thought, reaching out to brush a lock out of his eyes. He scared her, made her feel unsettled and vulnerable. She loved him.

  Mark turned his head to her and caught her hand, curling his fingers around hers, his thumb lightly stroking the side of her hand. Then her breath caught in her throat as he gently pressed it to his rough cheek. He turned his head ever so slightly, and warm lips grazed soft, cool skin.

  “Sheryl,” he whispered, his eyes still closed.

  Trembling, her fingers spread out, touching his soft lips, exploring the shape of them, moving over his jaw, fluttering up to his sculpted cheekbones, tracing his eyelashes.

  He opened his eyes, catching her hands. “Tell me why you signed over your share of the ranch to me?” “Nothing like getting to the point, is there?” She laughed, feeling as if they had come to an epiphany. She took his hand and gently traced the calluses on it. Even after four days of city life, grit still lined the cracks in his knuckles, the lines in the palm of his hand. The hand of a worker, a rancher. “I did it because I couldn’t see you working in the city, couldn’t see you giving up what you love just for me.”

  “And,” he coaxed.

  Sheryl looked up into his soft gray eyes. “I did it because I love you.”

  Mark relaxed, as if he had been holding his breath. “I didn’t think this could happen,” he said, his expression bemused. “I thought you were afraid of me.”

  Sheryl gave him a tremulous smile. “I was.”

  Mark shook his head, his eyes following his fingers as they drifted over her face, tangled in her hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning for
ward to kiss her forehead. “I’ll never hurt you. You have to believe me.”

  “No—” she straightened, catching his hand, holding it close to her cheek “—you don’t know what I mean. I was scared of how much you mean to me. I was afraid you would break my heart.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, either. I love you too much.”

  Sheryl pressed her lips against his hand and brought it down to her lap. “You know, I thought I didn’t know how to love, I thought I wouldn’t be able to forgive.” She ran her finger across his palm. "I learned a lot about letting go and looking in the right places, the past few months. Once I forgave Ed, many things became easier.” She looked up at him. “You gave me so much, you helped me deal with something that was eating me from the inside out,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “I thought I was going to crack. I think God knew I needed to be around family, so He sent me to Sweet Creek. I’ve discovered how much love God has to give us, and once I let Him love me, it became easier to love others.”

  “I’m so glad, Sheryl,” he squeezed her hand tightly. Then he sat up, brushing her hair from her face. “So is this where I can ask you to marry me?”

  “Actually, I was going to ask you.”

  “Just what I thought. An independent woman.” He smiled at her. Then, with a rueful shake of his head, he caught her and pressed her close to him, burying his face in her hair. “I promise you I will love you and cherish you as long as I live.”

  Sheryl squeezed her eyes shut, her hands cradling his head, reveling in his strength, the safety he gave her.

  “Are you crying?” he murmured against her neck, his breath warm.

  “No,” she said in a choked voice, trying not to. “Well, maybe a little.”

  “It’s okay, you know,” he said, pulling his head back, wiping her tears away with his thumb. He gently kissed the others away. “Crying is as important as laughing. I hope we can do a lot together.”

  He stifled a yawn.

  “Are you tired?” Sheryl asked.