The Kissing Tree

by Bice, Prudence

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1. Coming Home

  2. Temper, Temper

  3. Ribbons of Blue Remind Me of You

  4. Reunited

  5. Bit o’ Blarney

  6. Contemplation

  7. The Old Oak

  8. Wishful Thinking

  9. Regrets

  10. Rescued

  11. Surprise!

  12. Pillow Talk

  13. Ulterior Motives

  14. Women!

  15. Confessions

  16. Lost and Found

  17. Secrets to Ponder

  18. Shall We Dance?

  19. Returning Home

  20. No Honor Among Thieves

  21. Money Can’t Buy You Love

  22. Home at Last

  23. Dear Ridge

  24. Dear Georgie

  25. A Kiss to Remember

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Kissing Tree

  Prudence Bice

  Sweetwater Books

  An Imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc.

  Springville, Utah

  © 2011 Prudence Bice

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-59955-936-0

  Published by Sweetwater Books, an imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc., 2373 W. 700 S., Springville, UT 84663

  Distributed by Cedar Fort, Inc., www.cedarfort.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bice, Prudence, 1967-, author.

  The kissing tree / Prudence Louise Bice.

  p. cm.

  Summary: A young woman returns to her childhood home and discovers that

  she still loves a young man she had a crush on six years earlier.

  ISBN 978-1-59955-936-0

  1. Young women--Fiction. 2. Ranch life--Fiction. 3. Colorado--Fiction.

  I. Title.

  PS3602.I27K57 2011

  813’.6--dc23

  2011033544

  Cover design by Angela D. Olsen

  Cover design © 2011 by Lyle Mortimer

  Edited and typeset by Melissa J. Caldwell

  Formatted for Kindle by Simon Shepherd

  For Carol

  . . . a friend for all the seasons of my life

  Also by Prudence Bice

  The Widower’s Wife

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Jocelyn Skousen—for your time, talents, and, of course, never-ending patience. What would I do without you? Thanks to Pam Bice, my amazing sister-in-law, for answering my random phone calls when that one word I was looking for was eluding me and for your encouragement and effort in making this story happen. Thank you, Jelynn Nielsen, for your time and input, and to Joan Cottle for making sure I wasn’t full of blarney. Our chance encounter wasn’t just chance. Thanks to all of Cedar Fort’s talented staff and the excellent job you do, specifically, Jennifer Fielding, Angela Olsen, and my awesome editor Melissa Caldwell. Also, thanks for, once again, giving me the opportunity to share my love for writing with others. To all my family and friends, especially my children, Teila, Natasha, Krista, Kiley, and Joshua; your unconditional love and support buoys me up when I am discouraged, always giving me the strength I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And last but never least, to my husband, Ray. Your love and encouragement, devotion, and great romancin’ will always be my inspiration.

  Prologue

  Georgie ran behind the tree in a fit of giggles, slowly peeking around to see if he had followed her. Sure enough, he was standing not far away watching her curiously.

  Her plan had worked. Now she just had to decide what to do next. She needed to get him to come closer so he was officially standing under the tree’s low-hanging branches. Georgie took another quick glance at him before ducking behind the tree again. Oh, he was so cute with his wavy brown hair and those big, honey-colored eyes. Even the sprinkling of freckles that adorned his nose were simply adorable.

  All of a sudden a sense of shyness came over her. Could she really do it, or would she chicken out at the last minute? Oh, why did Sammy have to go and dare her to lure Ridge over to the kissing tree and kiss him—on the lips—before she left town? At almost thirteen years old, this would be her first kiss. Already, she knew she should have gone straight home from school instead of going swimming and fishing with her two best friends. Her mother was probably wondering where she had run off. Besides, Georgie still had to pack before they left for their summer holiday the day after tomorrow.

  Her family, which included her mother and two younger brothers, was leaving for a month to visit with her mother’s sister, who lived on the east coast. Although she was thrilled for the train ride, her spirits were dampened to know it would be her Aunt Cecelia waiting at the end of such a new and exciting adventure.

  Georgie had decided she didn’t like her Aunt Cecelia very much. Though she had never met her in person, she had overheard many conversations between her mother and grandparents concerning her mother’s controlling sister. From what she had gathered, her grandparents were worried how Georgie and her brothers would be received. Apparently her aunt had a particular distaste for children. “Especially children fathered by a lowly Irish immigrant,” she’d heard Grandad exclaim sarcastically. Needless to say, Georgie wished with every bone in her body that something would come up that would prevent them from making the trip.

  When nothing seemed to be happening—no chaotic or unforeseen distraction to keep them home—Georgie had done her best to talk her mother into leaving her at home with Grandad and Nana. Although she would miss out on the fun of riding her first ever steam locomotive, she would rather spend her summer vacation at home with them than under the watchful and critical eye of her aunt. Unfortunately, to her great dismay, her mother had insisted they all must go together as a family. Sighing deeply, Georgie resigned herself again to the fact that an unfair amount of her summer holiday was ruined and she would just have to pray the time went by fast.

  Suddenly, something rustled at her feet, pulling her from her thoughts. Georgie looked down to see the biggest bullfrog she had seen all year nestled in a small, damp, ivy-laden hollow of the tree’s enormous trunk. Ridge and his buddies still raced frogs sometimes, betting on whose would be the fastest. Looking down at the monstrous specimen, Georgiana grinned. This was sure to get his attention. The rest of her plan fell into place.

  Inching back around, she looked over at Ridge again. He was still staring at her, though a bit curiously now, like maybe he was wondering if she had bats in her belfry. At least he’d moved a little closer. Smiling secretly to herself, not able to look away from the warm, sweet honey of his eyes, she thought, He really is delicious. I don’t think I’ll mind stealing that kiss after all. Georgie willed away the sudden heat of blush that colored her cheeks at her impulsive and flirtatious thought before stepping out from behind the tree trunk.

  “Come closer,” she said, beckoning to Ridge, “I wanna show ya somethin’.” He still looked a little doubtful but took a tentative step forward anyway. “Oh, come on, Ridge,” she coaxed. “You’ll miss it!”

  Turning back to the tree, Georgie crouched down low as if to get a better look, feigning a great deal of interest in the ugly old spotted frog while frantically motioning for Ridge to follow her lead. “Hurry,” she pleaded again excitedly, “before he gets away!” Finally, Georgie could hear the crackling of the undergrowth and then feel his warm breath at her
neck as he leaned in close behind her. Goose bumps involuntarily crept down her spine at his nearness.

  “Wow, that’s about the biggest ole bullfrog I ever did see!” Ridge exclaimed enthusiastically. “Do ya mind if I catch ’im and bring ’im home? This one’s even bigger than the one Jeremiah caught down by the crik on Saturday. I’m sure to win the race now.”

  “Sure,” Georgie agreed, not daring to look back at him.

  “Great!” Ridge declared and at once leaned in even closer, with his hands at the ready.

  Suddenly, before she lost her nerve, Georgie turned toward him and planted a quick kiss right on his lips. The shock of it caused him to fall onto his backside, and his dumbfounded and bewildered look nearly made her laugh out loud.

  She hadn’t planned on saying anything, just running off. So Georgie surprised herself when, after standing up, she placed her hands dramatically onto her hips and triumphant words came tumbling out of her mouth.

  “There you have it, Ridge Carson.” She beamed down at him, proud she hadn’t lost her nerve. “I’ve stolen a kiss, and you can never have it back!”

  Turning quickly before he could see the blush that adorned her cheeks, Georgie ran off toward Samantha, who was hiding up the way. She grabbed Samantha’s hand, and they hurried down the road back toward Georgie’s house, both giggling and whispering conspiratorially.

  Smiling to himself, Ridge watched them go, still unable to move from where he had landed, the bullfrog temporarily forgotten. As the two girls rounded the bend in the road, he watched as a ribbon tore loose from Georgie’s hair and lodged itself in a nearby bush.

  1. Coming Home

  The stagecoach slowed, turned the corner, and began descending the last low, rolling hill just as the mountains were beginning to cradle the summer sun. The town was awash in the sun’s glowing warmth when Miss Georgiana McLaughlin caught her first, long-awaited glimpse. She felt that warmth now envelop her whole body as she recalled the happy memories she had left behind in the dry Colorado air five years ago, memories which now swirled around in her pretty head and turned up the corners of her perfect, heart-shaped lips. The closer the stage drew to town, the fuller her smile became, until finally her face was alight with a look of sheer joy.

  She had been away so very long. Georgiana had expected the town to look different. But though she could see a few new additions to the familiar buildings that lined the old boardwalk, the place still looked like it held the same homey quality and feel you could only get from a small town—a town where everyone knows each other intimately, whether you want them to or not. Nonetheless, their knowing is a small price to pay for the acute sense of belonging.

  Georgiana had been only thirteen years old when her mother had uprooted the family and moved them to live with her aunt in New York. Aunt Cecelia’s house never held any warmth whatsoever, nor did it foster any sense of attachment.

  Despite her distress at their move, Georgiana had never been angry with her mother. She understood her mother’s need to escape the memories and constant reminders of the love she’d lost. Georgiana’s father had been her mother’s whole world, and though she possessed a genuine love for her children, she could not bring herself to get past her grief in order to see the hope and promises the future still offered.

  Georgiana and her brothers harbored their own heartache concerning their father’s death, in addition to missing their home and grandparents. Nevertheless, they had borne the incivility and abuse from Aunt Cecelia for their mother’s sake. Georgiana had witnessed enough of her mother’s tears during that first year after their father was taken to realize the move might be her mother’s only hope of finding peace.

  However, that which had bruised Georgiana’s heart most of all was the loss of her two closest friends. She hadn’t been able to say good-bye when at the last minute their traveling plans were altered. But because at the time Georgiana thought they were only vacationing with their aunt for a month, she hadn’t brooded long at not bidding her friends a fond farewell. It was later, when their mother sat all three of them down and told them they would not be returning to Crystal Creek but would instead live with their aunt permanently that her heart had felt the sickening shock of it all.

  At first, she questioned whether she had heard her mother’s words correctly. Why couldn’t she see what a terrible mistake it would be for them to continue at their aunt’s home? There was nothing for them there . . . no admiration or favorable sentiment, and certainly no love. The ostentatious house was an empty shell. Staying would feel like they were being sentenced for some reprehensible crime and imprisoned in a dark, cold place that would slowly eat away their souls until they were as empty as the house itself.

  For days Georgiana had cried and pled relentlessly to be allowed to return. Grandad and Nana needed her, and it wasn’t fair to leave them alone. But alas, even the incessant begging from William and Aden, Georgiana’s brothers, could not change their mother’s mind. She was resolute in her decision. Besides her mother’s need to be away from the memories haunting her, Aunt Cecelia had convinced their mother that she could offer them so much more if they stayed in New York. Georgiana and her brothers would attend the best schools and have many more opportunities than they would ever have living on a poorly managed and shabbily outfitted cattle ranch out west. This, Aunt Cecelia had proclaimed in front of Georgiana and her brothers, taking no thought or care as to their tender feelings concerning the matter.

  Such harsh and unfounded insults had chafed sorely at Georgiana’s pride in her grandparents’ livelihood and thus fueled her anger. She had scarcely been able to hide the dismay caused by her aunt’s unjustifiable statements. Impertinent and caustic words in defense of her grandparents peppered her young tongue and fought to be set free. They were barely bridled. Georgiana’s restraint was only maintained because she hoped she could change her mother’s mind if she did not aggravate the situation further. She would yet attempt to make her mother see the disadvantages of such an arrangement.

  Finally, after days and weeks of pleading, Georgiana had given up. Despairingly, she accepted her fate. She would one day return, she’d promised herself. She would find a way back to the place where her heart belonged.

  The first year passed slowly. Her aunt was never overly generous, but her pride dictated she see her sister’s children properly educated, outfitted, and introduced into society. The school they attended was definitely larger and more sophisticated than the one-room schoolhouse back in Crystal Creek, and so were the egos of the spoiled and overprivileged children who attended there. Georgiana chose to keep to herself, often fondly remembering bygone days when she was never lacking for the comfortable companionship of either of her two dearest friends.

  When her fourteenth birthday arrived, she had been greatly relieved to quit her aunt’s home and move into the Harriet Wilmington’s School for Proper Young Ladies as was expected. The school became a haven, a place to be herself and to be free from her aunt’s constant nagging and belittling. She’d enjoyed her three years under the security and refined tutelage of Ms. Wilmington’s well-regarded institution. The normal length of attendance was two years, but Georgiana had been gloriously offered a position to stay on an extra term. A tutor was needed to attend to some of the more challenged students. She had eagerly accepted. It was during that year, having more free time to herself, she had discovered her love and talent for painting.

  Georgiana’s fingers twitched as she gazed once more at the beautiful sunset now layering strands of yellow and gold along the rooftops, reflecting a warmth that made the town seem even more inviting. Would that she could stop time this very moment so she could take out her easel and capture this day of coming home on canvas. For surely, this town was the only place that had ever felt like home.

  A sudden thought caused a tear to escape and gently trail down her soft cheek. She had not forgotten the reason she had been allowed to return to this place. The warm and loving visage of her Nana McLaughlin
passed before her mind—soft gray hair wound loosely into a bun at the back of her neck and a faraway look in her warm, dove-gray eyes as she retold tale after tale of her life back in Ireland. Georgiana, even after these many years, could still remember the sweet, pleasant sound of her grandmother’s voice and the music in her laughter.

  Taking a deep breath, Georgiana sighed sorrowfully. Her grandmother was gone now. Georgiana had always thought she and her family would return. She had hoped beyond measure even for a short visit. But year after year, they had remained, and now she would never see her dear grandmother alive again on this earth.

  Nana, Georgiana thought, choking back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her, I am sorry, so very sorry I didn’t come home in time. Pulling a handkerchief from a small, delicately beaded handbag, she dabbed at her wet cheeks.

  When her grandfather had written her mother asking if Georgiana could come and live with him at the ranch until he could find more permanent help, her aunt had been furious, ordering her mother to send a note of refusal immediately. Georgiana had been seeing a young man quite seriously for some time, and though she had already decided she could not commit her heart to him as yet, her aunt was pushing for a speedy engagement.

  Mr. Dawson Alexander was in line to inherit a great fortune and was indeed a most suitable choice in her aunt’s eyes. Georgiana had to admit Dawson was a good man, and she liked him very much. Not only was he considerate and benevolent toward others, he bore no semblance to the other haughty, spoiled aristocrats who shared the selfsame elevated status. He was but one year older than she was, and they had many things in common. In the short time she had known him, she had come to care for not only him, but also the rest of his family. Their generosity and loving nature bestowed so freely upon her attested to the reason Dawson was such a gallant and amicable man.