Love Finds You in Sunflower, Kansas

by Pamela Tracy

  This meant lost revenue for OhSoClean. Plus, the girl they’d hired to fill in for Annie now had a reduced load and would earn less money than she’d been promised. Annie couldn’t call her clients right now to assure them personally. Nor could she call the new hire and reassure her.

  She would have to wait until morning, and boy, was she looking forward to morning. She needed to get her well-organized life back on track.

  She glared at the GPS one more time. She’d followed its every direction, and the only thing she knew for sure was that she was lost. Lost at a road that came to a T. Annie could either go right or left, and the GPS remained silent. She was on her own.

  Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

  I took the road less traveled by,

  And that has made all the difference.

  The difference, Annie thought an hour later as she stared into the night. The reason why any sane person—especially a female traveling alone—would choose the well-traveled road was because Robert Frost’s road less traveled by didn’t have lights, a Circle K with a phone, or gas.

  Of course, back at the T, both directions had looked less traveled by.

  The car sputtered to a halt. She’d lost the train track more than an hour ago. Cornstalks shimmered in the night, looking like giant scolding praying mantises. Crickets added to the late-night cacophony. A sudden chill overtook her, but not from the cold night air. It wasn’t really that cold. It was fear—fear of being in the middle of a strange nowhere with no immediate possibility of rescue.

  * * * * *

  The sun peeked over the horizon as Joe Kelly’s old Ford truck crested the top of Steventon Drive. Jacko, a purebred golden retriever found abandoned and hurt in the middle of the road, obviously neglected, and now completely devoted, stuck his head out the window.

  “I don’t smell that bad,” Joe insisted, rolling down his own window. The early morning was shedding the night’s chill, and the scent of cow was as strong outside the truck as in. Birthing a breech bull calf, a big one at that, at almost four in the morning did little to start a day right, let alone a week. After a birth that took almost two hours and then another two hours spent trying to get the mother to stand, Joe felt like he’d arm wrestled with the two-thousand-pound daddy bull.

  And lost.

  Still, there were two prizes. One, he’d helped prevent the Hickses from losing money. The calf was worth something—his father was a champion. Two, Mrs. Hicks was the best cook in the county. After Joe stepped out of his overalls, he hit the restroom for a scrub and then sat down to a whopping helping of scrambled eggs and ham, plus fresh milk. She wouldn’t let him say no, and she fed Jacko.

  So, Joe ate the breakfast, all the time remembering how often he’d eaten there as a young boy and then a teenager, back when their youngest son, Kyle—Joe’s best friend—helped with the farm and wanted to someday take it over. Back when Joe didn’t think of her as Mrs. Hicks but instead thought of her as a second mother. Back before their families landed in the middle of a misunderstanding, and decades of friendship were followed by a decade of polite business exchange.

  He managed to clear his plate, thank her, and head for the door, Jacko at his heels. Mrs. Hicks acted like she wanted to say something, but a look from her husband prompted her to nod her head and hand him a brown lunch sack. “I made blueberry muffins yesterday. I remember they’re your favorite.”

  “Send the bill,” Mr. Hicks said.

  Joe took the muffins and headed for his truck. All he wanted was to get home, take a shower, turn off the light, and catch two hours of sleep before office hours began.

  He had left the Hickses’ property, smaller now than it used to be, since neither of their boys was around to take it over, when he got the first inkling that home and a few hours’ sleep wasn’t going to happen. Up ahead, in the sea of waving green and yellow stalks, a little red car stood out like an oversized fire hydrant. There were no orange cones signaling the need for help. No one was about. Joe, always cautious when things looked out of place, drove past slowly.

  Jacko barked.

  “What is it, boy?”

  Turning frantically in the car and looking out the back window, Jacko whined and scratched at the glass.

  The retriever had good instincts. Joe did a U-turn and pulled in front of the car. It looked deserted. Deciding to check it out, he shut off the engine, stepped out, and ambled toward it. The front seat was empty, but curled up in the back, beneath what looked like a blanket made of clothes, lay a woman. She was a sleeping beauty, but as stupid as all get out to pull off the road in the middle of nowhere to catch some shut-eye.

  Joe rapped on the window.

  She stretched and turned over. Her knees went up, fetal-style, and she tucked a hand under her cheek.

  Joe whistled softly. He wanted one of these under his tree for Christmas. It didn’t even need to come wrapped. He liked her exactly the way she was—hair sticking out at all angles and a face that seemed meant for a smile. He rapped louder, and her eyes opened. For a moment she stared at him blankly. Then she scooted to an upright position and to the other side of the car. She wasn’t smiling.

  Joe bent down and peered at her through the car window. “Do you need some help?”

  “No.”

  “Really? Well, okay. I’m Joe Kelly, one of the vets in Bonner Springs. You’re just outside the Hickses’ land. They have a home down the road a ways.” He pointed and waited for the wary look to leave her eyes.

  It didn’t.

  “Do you want to use my cell phone?” he offered.

  She scooted toward the door and cracked the window. Just enough for the cell phone and a question. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Joe Kelly.” As if he needed to prove his words, he pointed to his Ford. His name and business information were stenciled on the door.

  She punched some numbers and spoke in hushed tones. After a moment, she pushed the rest of the clothes off her. Opening the door, she gingerly stepped out of the car and nervously twisted one of the bracelets on her arm. “Sorry, I’m still half asleep and feel a little vulnerable out here in the middle of nowhere. My cell phone’s battery gave out hours ago. The dispatcher says you’re okay. I described you.”

  “You called the police?”

  “It was all I could think of.”

  “You know the Bonner Springs police phone number by heart?” He was impressed.

  She looked a bit embarrassed. “My big sister is a bit of a worrier. She wrote it down in my planner.”

  “It’s always good to have someone watching out for you,” he said. “You trust me enough to let me take you into town?”

  Two suitcases, a backpack crammed with folders and paper, and a bag of something very heavy later, Joe turned on the ignition and took another look at the woman.

  “So, do you have a name?” he asked.

  “Annie.”

  Joe watched as she stared out the window, still looking tired and wary. While she didn’t wince at the sloppy kiss Jacko awarded her, she didn’t look thrilled.

  “Jacko,” Joe said. “Give the lady time to get to know you before you kiss her.”

  Jacko didn’t even bother looking guilty, just wagged his tail.

  Joe noticed that Annie looked a bit concerned when he placed her stuff next to his veterinarian equipment, old blankets, and soiled overalls. Then, to his amusement, she reorganized the front seat so it looked, well, a little neater.

  Definitely a city girl.

  Still, she did halfway smile when Jacko put his nose on top of her pant leg and gazed up at her adoringly. Something must be on this woman’s mind. Jacko usually acted as a babe magnet, and half smiles were rare.

  As he drove, Joe surmised that Annie couldn’t have gotten much sleep. Her hair was flat on the side facing him, but that didn’t diminish its shine. She must have noticed his glances, because she seemed nervous and started playing with the bracelets on her arm. She was uncomfortable, even thoug
h she’d gotten the dispatcher’s reassurance of his identity.

  “You’re lucky I had an early morning call at the Hickses’ place. This road doesn’t get much traffic.”

  “And how far are we from Bonner Springs?”

  “About thirty miles.”

  She looked perturbed. “I knew my GPS wasn’t working right. I’m glad you know where everything is. Can you tell me about Sunflower? I asked back at the airport when I rented the car. They couldn’t find it on any of their maps.”

  “There’s nothing in Sunflower but a closed plant, lots of open space, and some deserted farms. Why would you want to go there?”

  “I don’t want to go there, but I might have to. I thought it was a really small town.”

  “I would call it nonexistent more than small. I should know—long ago some of my ancestors actually farmed there.”

  Before he could say anything else, her stomach growled. He reached behind the seat and snagged the sack of muffins.

  She didn’t hesitate, took one, and sank her teeth in appreciatively.

  “When did you eat last?”

  She laughed. “I ate peanuts on the plane yesterday, and then I grabbed something in Kansas City on my way out. But I always eat when I’m stressed, and believe me, last night driving around lost, I was stressed. You wouldn’t by any chance have some coffee to go with these muffins?”

  “No, no coffee.”

  She folded the bag neatly, brushed a few crumbs from her pants, and asked, “Are we almost to Bonner Springs yet?”

  “It’s five minutes ahead. Do you have a place to stay? Where do you want me to drop you off?”

  “For now, just a motel.”

  “Which one?”

  “One that’s central.”

  “Central to what?”

  “Downtown.”

  “We have two motels, both by the highway. There are a couple of bed-and-breakfast establishments, though, more centrally located.”

  “Just take me to one of the B&Bs. I’d really appreciate it.”

  He stopped asking questions. She seemed to relax, hesitantly petting Jacko, and stared out the window of his truck.

  “So, what do you do for a living, Annie?”

  “I make jewelry and I have my own business cleaning houses. But I’m taking two weeks off because of some family business. My first time off in years.” She checked her watch and sighed. “Too early to call and check on things back home.”

  He wanted to ask, “What kind of family business?” but he didn’t. Instead he let her enjoy the scenery.

  “My mother’s acting a little strange,” Annie finally offered. “Then again, maybe my mother isn’t acting strange, maybe we are. It’s just my sisters and I are worried about her. But you don’t need to know about all this.” She yawned and held her hands out in front of her in an elegant stretch. Silver bracelets with blue stones jangled as she pushed up the sleeves of her shirt and gave a smile that had him contemplating giving up the two hours’ sleep in order to help her get situated. Then, he really started thinking about her words. My mother’s acting a little strange. My sisters and I…

  Joe’s foot moved to hover over the brake. No, it couldn’t be. Bonner Springs was small, and Joe knew everybody. If he hadn’t spayed their cats, then he’d mowed their lawns or sat next to them at church or in school. Indeed, there was a strange woman in town, a woman who’d proudly shown a picture of her three daughters after church yesterday. He’d chosen to do no more than glance at it but now regretted that decision. “What did you say your last name was?”

  “I didn’t, but it’s Jamison. I’m Annie Jamison.”

  Tires squealed as the old truck came to an abrupt halt. He felt the hardness of the steering wheel under his grip and fought to gain control of both the car and his emotions.

  A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control. The sermon yesterday, from Proverbs 29, had quite a bit to say about making choices. Joe had listened, just as he had listened to sermons all his life. So, instead of depositing her on the side of the road to look for another way into town, he just stared at her.

  Jacko gave a low growl, clearly picking up on his owner’s animosity. Annie gave him a wild look and fumbled for the car’s door handle. “What’s wrong with you?” She turned to look him straight in the face, surprise and anger evident in her expression. There was something else there, too, something that almost made him feel ashamed.

  She looked ready to bolt.

  “Your mother’s the armchair detective?” he finally managed to say. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes, and his hat fell off. He left it. He was tired, too tired to deal with this right now.

  “No—yes…kind of. How’d you know?”

  Jacko spoke, a singsongy yowl that Joe’s friends called dogspeak.

  He saw the resemblance now. Their hair color was the same dark blond. Both women favored straight styles that were somewhat short and choppy. The same texture even—thick and healthy. Of course, Joe wasn’t exactly sure that Willa’s hair glistened in the morning sun like Annie’s did, and he didn’t care to know. Annie’s dark brown eyes, more wary than when he’d rapped on her window this morning, glared at him.

  “No, yes, kind of,” he ground out. “Is that a no, Willa Jamison is not your mother, or no, yes, kind of, Willa Jamison is not a licensed detective.”

  “She’s not a licensed detective.”

  He clenched his teeth so hard they hurt, started the truck, and pulled out onto the road, driving faster than the old vehicle should or wanted to go. He still gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his fingers hurt. “I can’t believe you have the gall to sit here and admit your mother’s a crook.”

  “What? I admitted no such thing. My mother is not a crook! How do you know my mother?”

  Joe finally made it to Swingster Road and drove straight to a clapboard house with a bed-and-breakfast sign hanging on the front porch. Then he calmly reached across her lap and opened the car door.

  Jacko barked.

  Annie’s mouth opened in protest. Joe felt a moment’s hesitation, but her current expression reminded him of her mother—a woman he’d met exactly three times and a woman he wished would disappear.

  With a huff, she grabbed her purse. “Are all the residents of Bonner Springs as rude as you, Mr. Kelly?”

  “No, only the ones who don’t like watching their fathers get ripped off by con artists. You’re what I call an accessory. Why don’t you save all of us time and heartache? Turn yourself in.”

  Chapter Four

  His father? Her mother?

  She’d managed to slam the car door with poise and anger both. It was a trait she’d learned from Cathy, who’d had more dates in high school than Annie and Beth combined. She took a step toward the bed-and-breakfast and then faltered. Her belongings were in the backseat of Joe Kelly’s truck.

  Great, just great.

  So far, Bonner Springs, Kansas, was sadly lacking in the “We’re Glad You’re Here” category. When she caught up to Joe Kelly, she’d give him a piece of her mind and then retrieve her clothes. Only, maybe she ought to do it in reverse order.

  The nerve! So the former minister had a good-looking son who was no gentleman. Well, most likely the father wasn’t a gentleman either. No, the father was the worst kind of man—one who took confused mothers away from their homes and pretended to believe their shenanigans.

  Annie headed toward the B&B’s entrance, but according to the note posted on the door, the owners had an emergency and would be back at the end of the week. They listed a phone number for another B&B. Since Annie’s cell phone wasn’t charged, phone numbers were nothing more than teasing.

  On a whim, Annie hit her heels together three times, but for now, Kansas was home until she convinced her mother otherwise.

  Five was even too early for the small café on the corner. If Annie wanted a cup of coffee, she’d need to wait
until six when the place opened, and judging by the looks of the place, it would indeed be coffee—no cappuccino, no latte. Nope, just plain old coffee—the kind meant to say good-bye to the weekend and hello to a definitely muddling and misguided Monday.

  Annie sure wished it were six. Coffee, even some strong enough to put hair on your chest, sounded good.

  What she really needed was a good old-fashioned phone booth, one with a phone book chained to it. She wasn’t sure such things still existed. She took one step toward the café—surely someone was inside. Maybe they could help her.

  The road, deserted just moments earlier, suddenly came to life. A car slowed, sped up, and slowed again, this time to a halt. The woman behind the wheel stared at Annie and frowned before rolling down her window, leaning toward the passenger side, and asking, “Are you lost, honey?”

  “I—I sure am. I was hoping to stay at the bed-and-breakfast, but it’s closed.”

  “Did you have a reservation? They called everyone and sent them other places before they left. Where were you supposed to go?”

  “I didn’t have a reservation. I just…” Annie paused. Telling her life story to complete strangers was not something she was comfortable with. “I just need to find my mother. That’s all.”

  “Who’s your mother?”

  “Willa Jamison.”

  The woman’s lips pursed as she stared at Annie. Then her eyes lit up and she smiled. “Oh, I know who you’re talking about. I met her at church this past Sunday. What a charming woman. Well, hop in. I’m Carolyn Mayhew. I’ll take you to your mother.”

  Great, not even a week into residency and already her mother was an icon, a charming icon at that. Shrugging away a lifetime of “Don’t get into the car with strangers,” Annie pushed aside the boxes of cosmetic supplies taking up the majority of available space and crawled into the passenger seat. That’s when the snout of an overgrown bear, pretending to be a dog, made its way to her shoulder.

  “This is my day for dogs,” Annie muttered.