Almost A Family
Page 1
This is what a family is supposed to be.
Letter to Reader
Title Page
Books by Marilyn Tracy
About the Author
Dedication
Author Note
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
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Teaser chapter
Copyright
This is what a family is supposed to be.
Steve stood in the lengthening shadows on the front porch. Through the screen door, he watched Taylor and her boys. Suddenly he felt a sense of isolation like none he’d ever encountered.
Far more than a screen door separated him from this family. Past hurts, imagined and real, rooted him to the wooden slats outside. And while the temperature remained at something just under one hundred degrees, he felt chilled. And alone.
He watched as Taylor shooed the triplets toward the kitchen. Then she walked across the room and opened the screen door. And let out a little shriek when she ran right into him.
“It’s only me,” he said.
“It’s...you.” And for a moment Taylor allowed herself to forget that Steve was a Texas Ranger, a man with a badge—and her sons’ choice for a father.
Dear Reader,
Any month with a new Nora Roberts book has to be special, and this month is extra special, because this book is the first of a wonderful new trilogy. Hidden Star begins THE STARS OF MITHRA, three stories about strong heroines, wonderful heroes—and three gems destined to bring them together.
The adventure begins for Bailey James with the loss of her memory—and the entrance of coolheaded (well, until he sees her) private eye Cade Parris into her life. He wants to believe in her—not to mention love her—but what is she doing with a sackful of cash and a diamond the size of a baby’s fist?
It’s a month for miniseries, with Marilyn Pappano revisiting her popular SOUTHERN KNIGHTS with Convincing Jamey, and Alicia Scott continuing MAXIMILLIAN’S CHILDREN with MacNamara’s Woman. Not to mention the final installment of Beverly Bird’s THE WEDDING RING, Saving Susannah, and the second book of Marilyn Tracy’s ALMOST, TEXAS miniseries, Almost a Family.
Finally, welcome Intimate Moments’ newest author, Maggie Price. She’s part of our WOMEN TO WATCH crossline promotion, with each line introducing a brand-new author to you. In Prime Suspect Maggie spins an irresistible tale about a by-the-book detective falling for a suspect, a beautiful criminal profiler who just may be in over her head. As an aside, you might like to know that Maggie herself once worked as a crime analyst for the Oklahoma City police department.
So enjoy all these novels—and then be sure to come back next month for more of the best romance reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Yours,
Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator
* * *
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325. Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609. Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
* * *
ALMOST A FAMILY
MARILYN TRACY
Books by Marilyn Tracy
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Magic in the Air #311
Blue Ice #362
Echoes of the Garden #387
Too Good To Forget #399
No Place To Run #427
The Fundamental Things Apply #479
Extreme Justice #532
Code Name: Daddy #736
*Almost Perfect #766
*Almost a Family #815
Silhouette Shadows
Sharing the Darkness #34
Memory’s lamp #41
Something Beaatiful #51
*Almost, Texas
MARILYN TRACY
lives in Portales, New Mexico, in a ramshackle, turn-of-the-century house with her son, two dogs, three cats and a poltergeist. Between remodeling the house to its original Victorian-cum-Deco state, writing full-time and finishing a forty-foot cement dragon in the backyard, Marilyn composes full soundtracks to go with each of her novels.
After having lived in both Tel Aviv and Moscow in conjunction with the U.S. State Department, Marilyn enjoys writing about the cultures she’s explored and the people she’s grown to love. She likes to hear from people who enjoy her books, and always has a pot of coffee on or a glass of wine ready for anyone dropping by, especially if they don’t mind chaos and know how to wield a paintbrush.
For Chris
Author Note
Some of the messages posted on Sammie Jo’s Minimart’s bulletin board are curled with age while others appear crisp and new. Unlike most community message boards, a few business cards have been tacked to the one in Almost, Texas, and in many cases the messages don’t carry phone numbers but only the author’s first name.
Here’s a few of the notes to be found on the board:
“Looking for recreational horse for tall man. Must be at least sixteen hands. Call Carolyn and Pete at the ranch.”
“One pair of ballet slippers, size seven, needed for upcoming school play. Call Alva Lu.”
“Almost Methodist Church Social (canceled last February due to storm) rescheduled for August 20. Sign up below and tell us what you’ll be bringing.”
“Found: one pair of boy’s sneakers. Come by Homer Chalmers’s to collect. If you dare.”
“Jason, Jonah and Josh are available for two weeks of community service. Call Taylor anytime.”
“Missing: One sow hog, answers to Itchy. Call Franklin. Reward of piglet if returned.”
“Found, plastic bag containing money. Call Tom Adams, FBI, Lubbock, Texas, (905)555-2121 if you know anything about it.”
“Nominations are due for the new officers of the Almost Over-Sixty Club by the end of August. Don’t forget to submit your choice and pick up your ballots. Sammie Jo.”
“Four mixed collie pups, two males and two females, ready for good homes. Come from Charlie Hampton’s cross. Call Doc.”
“Need a place to stay while in Almost? Martha Thompson takes boarders. Ask Sammie Jo for directions.”
And at the top of the board can be found a faded “Welcome to Almost, Texas” bumper sticker. Beneath those words someone had penned, “Where everyone knows Almost everyone.”
Enjoy your stay!
Chapter 1
“You spelled ‘killer’ wrong.”
“Did not.”
“Did too. You have kilker.”
A third voice piped up. “You did! Kilker. Ha! That’s funny.”
“You think it’s so funny...you write the letter.”
The letter in question was tossed into the air, hung there for a moment as if hesitating, then floated to the West Texas bedroom floor. All three brothers, Jason, Jonah and Joshua, each age eleven and as alike as the proverbial peas in a pod, glared at one another for a good half a minute before abandoning the potential argument in favor of continuing their endeavor.
Jonah picked up the paper, blew on it and handed it back to the original author, Jason. “Read what we got so far,” he commanded.
Jason cleared his throat theatrically. “Dear Ranger Steve Kessler—”
“That sounds dorky,” Josh interrupted.
“Shut up,” Jason and Jonah said simultaneously, causing the three to trade another round of glares.
“Just read it,” Josh demanded of Jason.
“Okay. Here goes. ‘We’re writing this letter to inform you that something bad is happening in Almost.”’
Jonah leaned forward and snatched the letter from Jason’s hands. “I didn’t agree to this. We shouldn’t start with a lie.”
“Who says we’re lying?” Josh protested. “Something bad’s bound to be happening. You know, like somewhere.”
“Josh...that’s not what I meant.”
“I know, but I don’t think Texas Ranger Steve Kessler is going to come roaring in here with his flashers going because Aunt Sammie Jo has corns on her toes.”
Jason nipped the letter back from Jonah’s fingers. “Anyway...
It’s very dangerous and we can’t write about it in this letter in case the wrong people find this and hurt us or something. We’re pretty sure there’s a killer loose. We think you better come down here right away. You can stay at our house while you investigate.“
Jonah flopped off the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on the mattress and cupping his chin with his hands. “That’s pretty good. But... isn’t he going to wonder why we don’t just ask Uncle Pete for help?”
“Nah. He only met him once,” Josh said. “Besides, Uncle Pete’s not with the FBI anymore. He quit, remember? All he does now is teach school.”
All three boys fell silent in contemplation of this abject betrayal on their new uncle’s part. Anyone who would rather teach school than be with the FBI had to have a real problem.
“He’s still gonna wonder,” Jonah said finally.
Jason shook his head. “You worry about everything, I swear. Don’t you remember? Texas Ranger Steve Kessler knew Dad.”
Josh raised his hand, as if still in school. “I vote we vote.”
The other two nodded solemnly.
Josh intoned, “I vote we send this important letter. All in favor say hey.” He gave his own shout of affirmation at the same time his brothers did. “The heys have it. We’ll mail it this afternoon.”
“He’s not gonna believe we saw a killer.”
“He sure won’t if we leave it spelled kilker! Cross it out and spell it right this time.”
“Think we ought to tell Mom that a Texas Ranger might be staying with us?” Jonah asked to the chorused scorn of his brothers.
“Are you crazy? She’d kill us.”
“Yeah, for lying, number one—”
“I told you so—”
“And number two for us saying he could stay here without even asking her first.”
“He can have my bed.”
Jonah looked worried for a moment, his brows drawn into a frown. Then his face cleared. “You know what? I’ll bet Texas Ranger Steve Kessler won’t even pay attention to this letter.” He grinned while his brothers stared at him as if he’d just suggested the sun wouldn’t rise in the morning.
Josh scoffed, “After what happened out at Aunt Carolyn’s? No way. Drugs and stuff, bad guys, Uncle Pete beating up Bubba Wannamacher? The police taking him away? Bubba, I mean, not Uncle Pete.”
Jason added excitedly, “Yeah, Josh is right. The Texas Rangers’ll come, all right. ’Specially Steve Kessler. He’s the Man! The thing is, we just gotta plant some clues and junk so he’ll have something to investigate once he gets here.”
“How are we gonna do that around Almost? Everybody knows everything everybody’s doing.”
The three boys pondered this minor problem for a few minutes, all of them staring at the ceiling as if for divine inspiration. Jason, as usual, was the first to look down. “Not everything.”
His identical brothers looked at him in question.
Jason shrugged. “It’s like this. Oh, sure, everybody knows what grades we’re making in school and stuff, but nobody pays attention to kids. You know, like, if we’re just playing. That’s what kids are supposed to do, right?” He waved his hand. “Like, we’re just out playing ball, riding bikes. That’s us. Just kids. Hunting lizards, painting porches. Stuff, just regular stuff. Nobody’s going to think anything about that.”
Jonah and Josh exchanged glances.
“Right? You know I’m right. Nobody’s gonna notice us doing nothing.”
Jonah and Josh allowed this to be a strong possibility.
“But what kind of clues are we going to plant?” Jonah asked.
For the next fifteen minutes or so, the triplets tossed around ideas, throwing out the more outrageous suggestions such as leading Steve Kessler to think Aunt Sammie Jo was really a murderer who had been hiding out in Almost, Texas, for nearly forty years.
“We don’t want to get anybody innocent in trouble,” Jonah said, still resting his elbows on the bed but sliding his knees apart so that he also sat on the floor. “’Specialty like Aunt Sammie Jo. We like her.”
Josh flipped to his stomach to lie diagonally across his bed. “Besides, Texas Ranger Steve Kessler won’t care about old murders. There’s some kind of law of limits or something that lets you get off scot-free if they don’t catch you right away.”
Jason backed him up. “Yeah, I saw that on TV the other night. It’s called a statue of limits. It’s, like, two months or something.”
Jonah, ever the collective conscience of the trio, continued to look doubtful. “But what if—”
“You’re the one who wanted to write the letter,” Josh interrupted.
“Yeah. This whole thing was all your idea,” Jason added.
“It was not,” Jonah protested hotly. “We all voted that he would be the perfect dad for us.”
“And for Mom.”
“Yeah, but a husband to her, not a dad.”
All three of them dissolved into giggles. Several minutes of exaggerated gagging noises and stomach clutching passed before they remembered the matter at hand.
Jason said, “But he’ll need some clues and stuff. You know, like a mystery.”
“Yeah, like a treasure hunt.”
“Exactly! That’s what Dad said being a cop was like.”
This last comment cast a definite pall on their hilarity.
All three boys suddenly couldn’t look at one another.
Josh said in a small voice, “But in treasure hunts you don’t get killed.”
No eyes met on that one. Then Jonah brightened. “But we’re not planning for anybody to really get killed. Just for Texas Ranger Steve Kessler to think somebody has so he’ll come here.”
“Yeah, like, and fall in love with Mom,” Josh said.
The three brothers met one another’s eyes now. All three nodded as if sealing a vow.
Jonah said, “So how long can falling in love take, anyway?”
“Couple of days,” Jason said knowledgeably. When Jonah looked at him skeptically, he shrugged. “I saw it on TV. You did, too. You were there, Mr. Know-Everything-about-Everything. Couple of days, max. All he has to do is kiss Mom one time and, blowie, he’s gone.”
Josh nodded. “Two days tops. Heck, heroes fall in love in an hour on TV. And that’s the true kind of stuff. In comic books, all they have to do is look at each other. Besides, Mom’s awful pretty.”
It was Jason who looked doubtful now. “I dunno. Lindsay Ackerman—”
His brothers fell back as if electrified by the bedspreads of their respective beds. “Not Lindsay Ackerman again!” they yelled in unison. “Lindsay Ackerman says, Lindsay says...”
“Quit it, guys,” Jason said.
His brothers fell silent. They were both a little in awe of the fact that Jason, the eldest of the three, was the first to have a real live girlfriend, even if all Jason did with her was talk.
Jonah sat up. “Hey, I know. What about filling up a baggie with some baking soda—”
“And putting it in the shed behind the school?”
“Yeah and we can mix up some fake blood—”
“With our chemistry set, like we did for Mrs. Drexler’s class?”
“And we can dribble it outside the shed.”
“And we can we
ar some of Dad’s shoes so we can leave big old footprints in the dirt.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah, way cool.”
“I think we should put in the letter that we found a grave or something.”
“That’s good, Jason. Should we dig one?”
“Sure. All we have to do is leave another clue there.”
“I know, a piece of paper that leads him somewhere else.”
“On the other side of Mr. Hampton’s barn.”
“He’s not gonna get the letter for a few days. We’ll have time to think up other stuff in the meantime.”
The three boys looked at one another, grinning broadly. Nothing had been decided but a total agreement had been reached.
“We’re really going to do this?” Jonah asked.
“Sure. Why not?” Jason asked back.
“We could get in big trouble,” Jonah suggested.
Josh shook his head. “As Dad used to say, what’s the worst that could happen?”
None of them seemed to want to state the obvious.
Jonah began to outline several possible options, most of which landed them in Boys Ranch. Jason and Josh exchanged long-suffering glances before pouncing on Jonah with war whoops. All three boys dissolved into eleven-year-old giggles, hollering, wrestling and finally rolling off the various beds with considerable clamor.
The bedroom door opened. “All right. Who’s being killed?”
Taylor Leary-Smithton, wise in the ways of eleven-year-old boys, and wiser in the ways of triplets, didn’t blink an eye when all three of her sons shrieked with laughter at her question then dived for some papers on Jason’s bed and promptly looked as guilty as drug runners caught in the act of accepting a payoff.
Nor did she find it at all unusual when all three boys, with identical expressions of total and wholly unwarranted innocence, asked, “What? We’re not doing anything.”