Joshua's Folly

by Dean, Taylor

  Joshua’s Folly

  Copyright © 2013 by Taylor Dean

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  www.taylordeanbooks.com

  Cover art by: ©iStockphoto.com/Chuwy]

  Cover design by: Jules Isaacs

  Author photo: Jules Isaacs

  Digital edition produced by Maureen Cutajar

  www.gopublished.com

  ISBN: 978-1475192728

  THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO

  ROBBIE

  1940-2007

  AND TO MY MOM, CAROLEE,

  AND DAUGHTER, JACLYN—

  WHO HAVE ALWAYS

  BEEN THE BIGGEST FANS OF

  “THE FOLLY”

  THANKS FOR

  BELIEVING IN ME!

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  –1–

  –2–

  –3–

  –4–

  –5–

  –6–

  –7–

  –8–

  –9–

  –10–

  –11–

  –12–

  –13–

  –14–

  –15–

  –16–

  –17–

  –18–

  –19–

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  Marisa’s eyes fluttered open, her lashes tickling her tear-stained cheeks. The surrounding room was unfamiliar and for just a moment she wondered where she was.

  She sat up quickly, too quickly. Pain washed through her little body in waves, the kind of pain she’d never felt before in all of her eleven years.

  She almost cried out, but then she remembered where she was and she didn’t want to wake up her new family. If she caused too much trouble, maybe they wouldn’t want her anymore. Maybe they’d send her away.

  Where would she go?

  They were nice. They were kind. They told her they loved her very much.

  They were strangers.

  Her stomach rumbled loudly. She hadn’t eaten much dinner. If they thought she didn’t eat very much then they’d know she wouldn’t be too much of a nuisance to them. And they’d keep her. Please let me stay, I don’t have anywhere else to go.

  Marisa’s eyes wandered around the room. It was just like a room she’d seen in a magazine called, “a little girl’s dream room.” Everything was pink. The walls were pink, the carpet was pink, the bedspread was pink, the ruffled canopy overhead was pink.

  She liked pink.

  It was a beautiful room. A room for a princess. She especially liked the wallpaper border. It was filled with pink bows all connected together as if the bows were holding hands.

  She should feel happy.

  But she didn’t. She felt so sad that all she wanted to do was cry. Not just cry, she wanted to sob.

  I want my mommy and daddy.

  Marisa berated herself. She wasn’t five years old anymore. But it didn’t stop her from yearning for her mommy and daddy.

  Mary had left the hall light on. Her room wasn’t dark. That was good because she hated the dark. The dark scared her.

  Everything scared her.

  She wanted to go home.

  Mary said this was her home now.

  But it wasn’t her home and it never would be. She didn’t have a home anymore. She didn’t have a mommy and daddy anymore.

  Marisa collapsed onto her bed and curled into a tight little ball. The movement made the pain come back. She changed positions, straightening her legs, stretching them out as far as they would go in the huge double bed. She told her body to relax and let her sleep.

  It didn’t work.

  The pain wouldn’t let her sleep. Not a single position was comfortable. The sheets felt cool on her skin. The nightgown was brand new and made her skin feel itchy. The room felt weird and kinda creepy. It was so unfamiliar, so foreign. Marisa grabbed the cute little teddy bear sitting on the nightstand and hugged it tightly to her chest. Clearly, Mary and Jerome had wanted a younger child. A cute, frilly little girl who would squeal at the sight of ‘the little girl’s dream room.’ She couldn’t be that little girl. A few more tears escaped as she cried as quietly as she could. Her heart hurt the most of anything, as if she didn’t have a heart in her chest anymore; instead it was a huge, heavy rock. A boulder. Lodged in her chest. Heavy and tight.

  Marisa’s eyes wandered the room again. Everything was brand sparkling new. Fresh.

  Except for herself. She was broken. Damaged.

  I’m sooooo cold.

  Her eye’s wandered to the hallway. The walls were covered with family pictures. Framed, nameless faces. More strangers. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere. I’m all alone.

  Totally alone.

  Marisa climbed out of bed. She couldn’t sleep. Not here. Not ever. Mary said the pain would lessen as time went by. Mary said she hoped she would be very happy here. She liked Mary. Very much.

  But sleep was so hard. Nighttime was so cold. And she was so alone.

  Marisa tiptoed into the hallway and stared at Mary’s family pictures. Happy, smiling faces. Joyful occasions. The precious moments of life, captured and remembered forever.

  The light seemed to spotlight one particular picture, as if it was saying, ‘look here!’ Her eyes rested on the photo. Once it caught her attention, she felt hard pressed to look away. Warmth trickled through her body, right down to her toes. It was the first time she’d felt warm in many days.

  It was a picture of a young man. He was handsome, maybe just a few years older than her. He smiled into the camera as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was outdoors, the sun shining in his windblown hair, his blue eyes glistening with life. He looked directly into the camera lens, giving her the sense that he was staring into her own eyes. There was something about him that made her feel…safe, and she longed to climb into the photo, just to be at his side.

  “Stay with me forever and never leave me. Promise?” she’d ask him.

  “I promise,” he’d say. “I love you, Marisa. I love you.”

  Sometimes a promise to stay together forever didn’t work out. She knew that all too well.

  Mary must’ve sensed her restlessness because she came to check on her. “Marisa, are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, I’m so sorry if I woke you.”

  “You didn’t. I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right.”

  “I’m okay,” Marisa answered, trying to force a smile. Be happy. Be thankful. Be on your best behavior.

  “Trouble sleeping?” Mary asked, concern lacing her features.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll go back to bed. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “You didn’t, Marisa, really. I wanted to check on you. I was worried about you,” Mary said, touching her shoulder softly.

  Mary was wonderful. Really wonderful. Marisa valiantly held back the tears that threatened to erupt. Maybe even explode. She wasn’t sure, but she knew if she started crying, she might start screaming too. It wouldn’t be pretty.

  “Who is this?” Marisa asked, pointing to the picture of the handsome young man. Another glance at him and the same thing happened. Warmth infused her body.

  “That’s my nephew, Joshua. He lives in Texas on our family’s cattle ranch.”

  “He’s very handsome.”

  “Yes, he is.”
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  “He reminds me of a prince in a fairy tale, you know, the ones who always save the damsel in distress. The knight in shining armor who rides up on his white steed and whisks the princess away to his castle.” Marisa sighed. “I read a lot,” she said by way of explanation for her overactive imagination.

  Mary smiled. “Joshua is that kind of a young man, always ready to help anyone in need.”

  A few tense moments of silence passed. Marisa continued to hold the ever-threatening tears at bay. The constant, raw ache inside of her body, mind, and spirit refused to subside. Would it always be a part of her?

  “I’ll be right back,” Mary said softly as she walked away rather purposefully.

  Marisa heard the distinct sound of rummaging through boxes coming from the direction of the hallway closet. She breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly, feeling completely overwhelmed by her new life circumstances. Slowly, she placed her fingers to her lips and kissed them softly. Then she placed her fingers to the picture of Joshua. “Save me,” she whispered.

  When Mary returned, she held a picture in her hands. It was the same picture of Joshua that graced the wall.

  “Come on, let’s get you tucked back into bed.”

  Mary took her by the hand and led her to the pink canopied bed. She carefully helped her to slide under the covers, then pulled the blankets up to her chin. She placed a soft kiss on her forehead ever so lightly.

  “Here’s a picture of Joshua for you,” she said as she slipped it under her pillow. “There. Now Joshua will always be with you, keeping you safe at night. He won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. He’ll be your very own guardian angel, your very own handsome prince.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” Marisa breathed as sleep claimed her.

  She was safe.

  –1–

  It was him. The man of her dreams.

  Literally.

  It was as if she had conjured him up out of her imagination.

  He didn’t see her as yet. She had time to watch him unnoticed. He was a lot taller than she’d realized, six-foot-four at least. His eyes were searching the crowd of weary travelers. Even his eyes were bluer than she’d realized, almost startlingly blue, as blue as the sky, as blue as the ocean—a girl could drown in those eyes—and she had many times, more times than she cared to admit. But this was the real thing and everything is so much better in person.

  Especially the man you’ve been in love with since you were eleven years old.

  His hair was jet black, a little on the longish side, and looked windblown. She knew from the turbulent landing she’d just endured that it was a windy day, something the high plains of the Texas panhandle were known for. He was wearing blue jeans, a khaki dress shirt tucked in neatly, with a belt slung low on his hips. He wore cowboy boots and he looked exactly as she had always imagined—like a real Texas cowboy. Suddenly she realized his blue eyes had rested on her. She smiled and waved. He waved back, then smiled his huge smile revealing his perfect white teeth. The lines around his eyes crinkled. He was completely disarming in a good way.

  “Hi,” she said and held out her hand politely.

  “Hi yourself,” he said, engulfing her in a huge bear hug, her feet leaving the floor. “Some occasions require a hug,” he added playfully. She landed back on earth, figuratively and literally, as he looked her up and down. She knew she blushed as red as an apple. She hoped her feelings weren’t written all over her face. If he knew what she was thinking, he’d probably turn and run.

  “When did you grow up? I was somehow expecting a young girl, but instead I see a beautiful woman.”

  “I can put my hair in pigtails if you want.”

  Joshua Kensington threw his head back and laughed. She watched, mesmerized. At twenty-four, she wouldn’t really put her hair in pigtails, not even if her life depended on it—but she’d do it for him.

  “Mary warned me that you were a little firecracker and I can see she’s right,” he said with a laugh. His voice had a deep, rich timbre and yet was soft and gentle.

  “Don’t believe anything she says.”

  He laughed again, smiling into her green eyes. And there they stood in a crowded airport, people milling around them. Five seconds passed, then twenty, then thirty, till they both came to their senses and realized they were staring at one another, taking each other in.

  Josh recovered first. “Shall we get your luggage, Marisa?”

  She liked the way he said her name. The Texan accent took over and the i was slightly elongated. Mary always said she’d worked hard to rid of herself of the ‘awful’ West Texan twang—and she’d done it too. Mary had no trace of an accent and was proud of it. But Marisa had to admit, she kind of liked it. Somehow, she found it…comforting. She equated it with sitting on a front porch on a hot summer afternoon, drinking homemade lemonade while lazily rocking in a rocker.

  Yep, she got all that from one elongated i. Just imagine what her imagination will come up with when he says ya’ll. It’ll be mind blowing.

  Over the years, she’d scrambled to the phone if she knew it was him. He called on a regular basis, keeping in touch with his Aunt Mary, and always expressing interest in her foster daughter. He asked all the typical questions like, How’s school?, Do you like your teachers?, Are you making friends?, and so on. They’d never spoken long, just a minute or two of formality filled babble. But Marisa had hung on his every word.

  Pathetic.

  Marisa remembered the day he’d married. Mary called to wish him congratulations. Marisa had feigned sickness, hiding out in her room. Jerome, her foster father, checked on her several times.

  “It must’ve been something I ate,” Marisa lied. Then she cried deep into the night, broken hearted that he now belonged to someone else and not to her.

  Silly childhood crush.

  He was waiting for an answer. “All right, but where’s Bethany?” Marisa asked as her eyes scanned the airport lounge.

  “I left her back at the ranch. It’s a long trip and she gets restless. May I take your bag?”

  Marisa handed him her carry-on, glad to be rid of the weight on her shoulder. “Thanks. So, it’s just me and you?” She looked at him innocently as she said it, but she liked the sound of that. Just me and you.

  “Yep, just me and you.” This time he held her gaze, perhaps a little longer than necessary. “I thought we’d have lunch together.”

  She smiled at him radiantly, “Sounds great.”

  No young man had ever compared to how she imagined Joshua to be, and so far he was living up to the ideal. She knew he would.

  She ignored the fact that she’d only met him five minutes ago.

  They retrieved her luggage and loaded it into the back of his jeep, then settled in and buckled their seatbelts. Marisa breathed a deep sigh. She was actually in Amarillo, Texas. She noticed the airport was named Rick Husband Amarillo International Airport. “Is the airport named after Rick Husband, the astronaut?”

  “Sure is. He grew up here, went to high school here. The Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrated upon reentry, killing every crewmember. Sad day, they were so close to home.” Josh started the jeep and revved the engine, but seemed in no hurry to get going.

  Marisa pondered on that for a minute. Anything can happen in life when you least expect it. She’d learned that many years ago. Her parents had been only five minutes from home when tragedy struck. So close to home…

  She changed the subject. “So, tell me about Amarillo.”

  “Let’s see, population about two-hundred and forty thousand. About one-quarter of the United States beef supply is processed here and several state of the art dairies are located around here. Did I mention there are several cattle ranches as well?” he added, his smile beguiling.

  “I figured that one out,” she remarked, liking his dry sense of humor.

  He continued. “We have the second largest canyon system after the Grand Canyon, called Palo Duro Canyon. I’ll take you there, you’ll love
it,” Josh said as he drove slowly through the parking fee booth and gave the attendant one dollar.

  “You certainly can’t see it from here,” Marisa commented as she gazed upon the flat land.

  “That’s because it’s a canyon, remember? It goes down.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, wanting to see this phenomenon.

  “In Spanish, Amarillo means yellow. There are a few different answers as to why they called it that. Some say the color of the soil, some say the yellow wildflowers. Secretly, I think it’s because of the tall, yellow colored weeds that grow across the plains.”

  “Interesting,” was her only comment as they began to pick up speed and the wind blew at their hair. She was captivated by the flat landscape. She’d never been to Texas before. “It sure is flat. It’s just a whole lot of…nothing.” It was very different from the rolling hills of San Jose, California, where she’d grown up.

  “We have a common saying around here. It goes somethin’ like this, ‘Welcome to Amarillo, where you can look farther and see less than any other place in the world.’ I guess it’s true.”

  “Sure is,” she responded with a laugh. “How far is your cattle ranch from here?” she asked, trying to talk over the wind.

  “Two hours. If you need anything, now would be the time to pick it up. There are a few small towns around us, but other than that, this is it, baby,” he answered loudly with a smile.

  They were quiet for the drive into Amarillo proper as the open jeep and the wind made conversation all but impossible. They stopped at a small sandwich shop with umbrella-covered tables dotting the fenced in courtyard. They were prepared for the wind.

  “In or out?” Josh asked her.

  “Definitely out,” she said decisively. “The June sunshine feels good.”

  “I was fixin’ to say the same thing. You’re my kind of girl,” he teased and her heart skipped a beat.

  Marisa tried not to laugh aloud at his slight Texan accent, and strange use of the word fixing. He didn’t have a strong accent, but it was there all the same—a nice little twang that spiced up his speech and made you take notice.

  When they were settled and waiting for their order, Josh said, “Tell me about yourself, Marisa.”