Being with Luke again, however, seeing him in action, had destroyed the defense of those excuses. Standing on Gwen’s front porch after the pavilion fire was spotted, Jennifer had watched Luke leave his office and rush to the scene. There had been no panic in his movements, no lack of purpose, no wasted energy. He had stopped traffic at the intersection for the fire truck to pass, and had kept the crowd of onlookers out of harm’s way.
As impressive as his calm response to the emergency had been, even more impressive were people’s reactions to Luke. He hadn’t needed to rant or rave to gain their cooperation, just raise his voice loud enough to be heard. The way everyone followed his clear instructions, without questions or grumbling, indicated the widespread respect the sheriff held in the town.
Besides keeping everyone safe, Luke had thoroughly inspected the fire scene, given a hand to the firefighters when needed, roped off the fire area and stayed until the last person had gone.
Maybe he really was as much of a paragon as she remembered.
If so, why hadn’t he had the grace to let her down easy ten years ago instead of leaving her twisting in the wind forever, hoping he would call and explain?
Scrubbing away the soot on her check with the back of her hand, she headed back to the boardinghouse. What difference did it make why Luke did anything?
Because you’re still in love with him.
Her heart sank at the thought, and she remembered Penny, her devoutly Catholic roommate at boarding school, who had taught Jennifer that Jude was the patron saint of lost causes.
Too bad I’m not Catholic, Jennifer thought sadly, climbing the back stairs to the kitchen door. She could pray to St. Jude for a miracle. That’s what it would take for Luke to love her again.
Her introspection ended abruptly as she stepped onto the threshold.
“Wow.” She paused in the doorway and surveyed Gwen’s kitchen. “Looks like a disaster area.”
Gwen glanced up with a rueful smile from the table she was clearing. Dirty bowls, baking sheets, thermal mugs and coffee carafes cluttered the counters. “Things got a bit hectic once the fire started.”
Jennifer shucked off her vest and pushed up her sleeves. “Let me help.”
“I could use a hand. Oggie’s showering before returning to the school, Irene’s gone to the bookstore to pick up her new romance novel that just came in, and Stella’s gone to give Sylvia a hand at the beauty shop.”
“Stella’s a beautician?”
Gwen shook her head. “No, but she hurried out saying she could at least do shampoos and sweep up hair clippings. Sylvia’s going to be backed up with everyone getting ready for tonight.”
“Tonight?” Jennifer filled the farmhouse-style sink with hot water and added dish detergent.
“I was going to tell you at breakfast—before the sirens sounded. The historical society is having a dinner and dance at the town hall tonight. Part of the ongoing Founders Day celebrations. You’re welcome to come. I plan to take enough potluck for all my guests. But if you’d rather not, I can leave something here for you to warm up.”
“Is it formal?” Jennifer swished a coffee carafe in the sudsy water.
“What Grandmother used to call Sunday best,” Gwen said. “If you’ve got a dishy outfit without sleeves or a back, you can get away with it tonight. The weather’s warming up like crazy.”
A glance out the kitchen window confirmed Gwen’s observation. The snow was melting quickly in the hot noonday sun, aided by a warm southerly breeze.
“I suppose the whole town turns out for this, just like they used to?” Jennifer asked.
Nostalgia filled her. Once, years ago, her spring break had coincided with Founders Day, and her grandparents had taken her to the historical society’s event. She’d been only fourteen then and had watched with an aching heart while Luke danced with the older girls. Jennifer had almost fainted with surprise when he’d finally appeared in front of her.
“Want to dance, short stuff?”
Feeling awkward and embarrassed by her eagerness, she had stepped into his arms for a slow dance. Even though he’d held her at a respectable distance, she’d trembled at the contact of her hand in his, his other planted firmly in the small of her back, and she’d dreamed impossible dreams. The dance had ended far too soon, and she’d had to wait another four years before he’d noticed her again.
“You betcha everyone will be there.” Gwen’s reply broke into Jennifer’s reminiscences. “It’s one of the big social events of the year.” Gwen opened the stainless steel door of the freezer and placed a container of fresh-baked pastries, left over from the morning’s distribution, inside.
“You have a date?” Jennifer asked.
She caught sight of Gwen’s reddened face before her friend went back to clearing the table.
“No date,” Gwen said. “Not everyone has an escort.”
“Guess there’re not that many eligible bachelors in Jester,” Jennifer said, “now that Jack Hartman and Luke are both taken.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Gwen, who kept her back to the sink where Jennifer was working, but she could see Gwen’s blush darkening the back of her neck.
“No, not many eligible men in Jester.”
Gwen’s voice had a strange, strangled sound, as if she were holding back secrets, but Jennifer didn’t want to pry. If Gwen wanted to share what was bothering her, she would. Jennifer knew all too well what it felt like to have one’s love life go awry. When it happened, you didn’t feel like talking about it.
“I’d love to go to the dinner.” Jennifer turned the conversation to safer ground. “It may be my last chance to see everyone.”
“You’re leaving soon?” Gwen whipped around to face her, and the obvious disappointment on her face warmed Jennifer’s heart. Knowing someone would miss her felt good.
“I’ll be moving out to the farm tomorrow,” Jennifer said. “Have to get it in shape to sell. And I won’t know how long that will take until I’ve inspected the place. If there’s lots of work, I won’t have time to come into town. If there’s not, I’ll finish up quickly and head for Arizona.”
“Why Arizona?” Gwen asked.
“Why not?” she answered lightly, unable to think of a good reason other than it was far away from Jester—and Luke.
“Ever thought of staying here? You have the farm, lottery money to live on and plenty of friends. What more could you want?”
The answer to that question rushed over Jennifer with such a vengeance it almost took her breath away. She wanted to marry Luke McNeil and have his children.
Fat chance. Her grandfather had probably used up all the family luck winning the lottery. Jennifer might as well wish for the moon.
As enticing as she found the prospect of remaining in Jester, she knew she couldn’t endure watching Luke marry Cassie Lou Carwise and raise a family with her. Losing a dream was one thing. Having someone else fulfill that dream while Jennifer looked on was another matter entirely, something she didn’t even want to contemplate.
“I don’t know what I want,” she lied. “I just hope I’ll know it when I find it.”
The two women resumed their work in companionable silence. In less than an hour, they had returned the kitchen to its usual pristine state. Gwen fixed them sandwiches and coffee, then began preparations for the dishes she would take to the dinner dance that night.
Jennifer went upstairs to her room to change clothes. The temperature had continued to climb, and the roads were clear enough for a run. Running usually emptied her mind, and she needed a clear head to cope with her whirling emotions while she remained in Jester.
After donning sweatshirt, sweatpants and her Reeboks, she limbered up with a few stretching exercises on Gwen’s front porch before taking off down Lottery Lane at an easy trot. She hadn’t run in several days and knew she should work back into her old stride gradually to avoid injuries, so she stifled her inclination to run like the devil himself was on her tail. Much as she wa
nted to, she couldn’t outrun her problems.
Fortunately, traffic was practically nonexistent in Jester, so she was able to run in the middle of the road, where the snow had melted completely. Weeping banks of slush still covered many of the sidewalks. Her route north on Lottery Lane took her past the library at the corner of Main and by Jester’s medical center on her right. At the intersection of Lottery Lane and Orchard Street, she jogged in place, glancing left toward the schoolhouse before taking a right on Orchard Street.
Forging a zigzagging path to avoid puddled water from the snowmelt, she passed the Dupree house on the left. Knowing Shelly was probably working at the diner, Jennifer didn’t slow her pace, but continued on toward the next cross street. She turned right on Mega-Bucks Boulevard and stopped in front of the church, hands on her thighs, head bent as she fought for breath.
Exertion hadn’t caused her lack of air, but the tightening in her chest when she’d spotted the familiar building where she’d attended hundreds of Sunday services with her grandparents. With a heavy heart, she approached the church, took the path that veered alongside it, and found herself in the cemetery, set on a rolling hill that overlooked the town to the west and the undulating prairie and limestone bluffs to the east.
The details of the day of her grandmother’s funeral returned to her in a rush, robbing her of breath once more. Jennifer could feel the oppressive heat of the summer sun, the weight of Grandpa Henry as he’d leaned on her arm, as if afraid he’d collapse if she let go. She recalled vividly the murmured prayers and condolences of the town’s folk at the graveside.
Her feet automatically followed the path toward the family plot where Faulkners had been laid to rest for almost a hundred years. Her eyes misted with tears until she could barely read the headstones erected on her grandparents’ graves. A stone with her parents’ names stood nearby, a memorial only, since the fiery plane crash that killed them had consumed their bodies.
A huge sense of loss welled inside her—grief for her grandparents, a feeling of deprivation for the parents she’d never really had, and the all-consuming, horrible question of why Grandpa Henry had sent her away.
Sent her away? Why mince words? He’d thrown her out.
She was so lost in grief, she didn’t hear anything around her, and she jumped in surprise when a voice sounded at her elbow.
“You okay, sunshine?”
“Luke. What are you doing here?” His use of the familiar nickname and her memories of all that it had once meant flooded her with longing and despair.
“It’s my business to know what’s going on in town,” he answered casually, but genuine concern shone in his deep-blue eyes. Time had added tiny crinkles at their corners and etched a fine line between his eyebrows. “I was at the town hall when I spotted you headed for the cemetery. Figured you shouldn’t have to come here alone.”
She tried without success to stifle the sob rising in her, and when he opened his arms, she didn’t hesitate to fly into them.
His embrace enfolded her with a sense of coming home that she hadn’t experienced since her return. The warmth of his hard, muscled body eased the chill in her heart, and her tears soaked the front of his suede jacket.
“Go ahead and cry, sunshine,” he said gently, smoothing her hair with the palm of his hand. “You’re entitled.”
She shook her head against the broad expanse of his chest. “I shouldn’t—”
“You’ve lost your entire family. That’s a terrible blow.” He dug into his pocket, pulled out a clean red bandanna and slid it into her hand.
“I loved them,” she sobbed. “And Grandpa Henry…”
“I know,” he said soothingly, bundling her closer. “We all miss him.”
Standing at the graveside and reading the headstone had brought the finality, the reality of her grandfather’s death home. Until now, Jennifer realized, she’d been shielding herself from the truth, pretending that once she reached Cottonwood Farm, he’d be standing on the front porch to greet her, or sitting in the kitchen, smoking his pipe, and glancing up to welcome her with a gentle, loving smile and a self-conscious hug.
Tears flowing, she snuggled deeper into the comfort of Luke’s embrace. As long as she had him, she wasn’t totally alone.
But she didn’t have Luke. Hadn’t had Luke for over ten long, agonizing years.
She swallowed her tears and tore herself from his arms, even though pulling away was the last thing she wanted to do. She was making a fool of herself. None of the closeness and passion between them remained. Luke was only being kind.
“I’m okay,” she insisted, drying her face on his handkerchief, avoiding his gaze.
“You sure?” Tenderness filled his voice.
For one interminable, horrible moment, she battled the urge to fling herself into his arms again. Her pride saved her. “Yes, thanks.”
She longed to say more, but was at a loss for words. She couldn’t confront him about his abandonment now, not with her emotions so raw over her grandfather’s death. She just couldn’t stand any more heartbreak, even if it was ten years old. So she said nothing, standing with her head bowed, unable to face him for fear he’d read the longing in her eyes.
“Maybe you’d rather be alone with your grief.” His words were a statement, not a question, and when she glanced up, he was already moving away. “Luke?”
He paused and turned, the afternoon sun glimmering around him, giving him a dreamlike quality. “Yes?”
What could she say? Love me. Don’t go. Hold me forever. None of the above.
“Thank you for your sympathy.”
He tipped his fingers to the brim of his Stetson, his eyes hidden by its shadow. “You going to the dance tonight?”
She nodded, afraid she’d cry again if she spoke.
“I’ll see you there.” He returned to the path and disappeared around the corner of the church.
Her heart jumped with hope at his words, until she remembered that Cassie Lou Carwise would probably be there with him.
Jennifer turned back to the graves, pressed her hands against the cold granite of Grandpa Henry’s marble headstone, then traced the letters, Devoted and loving wife on Gramma Dolly’s, and uttered a fervent silent prayer.
“If you have any pull with the Man Upstairs, Gramma,” she begged, “please help me know the right thing to do.”
Giving Luke plenty of time for a headstart to wherever he was going, she finally left the cemetery to resume her run, still searching for answers.
A SHORT TIME LATER, Jennifer had finished her run. After leaving the cemetery, she’d completed the circuit of the town, passing the town hall with its familiar statue of Catherine Peterson and her horse Jester, for whom the town was named.
Vickie had dared Jennifer once when she was ten to mount Jester for an imaginary ride. She had accepted the challenge and scrambled aboard, only to be caught by her grandfather, who’d had business at the town hall that day. He’d sent her to bed without supper, but Gramma Dolly had sneaked it into her room that night. Vickie, of course, had escaped unscathed.
The bronze statue had recently been cleaned, but the hall itself looked as if it could stand a new coat of paint, another sign of the town’s economic decline.
Beyond the town hall was the fire station. As Jennifer sprinted by, Tex and Dev, out front washing and polishing the truck, waved, and Dev, apparently still with something of the devil in him, cut loose with an appreciative wolf whistle.
Right before the mayor’s house, she rounded the corner onto Maple Street and headed west. Crossing Big Draw Drive, she glanced to her right. Behind the Perkins house, Vickie’s children played in their fenced backyard. At their screeches of delighted laughter, memories flooded Jennifer.
Memories she’d buried for over ten years, because their recollection tormented her with agonizing homesickness and loneliness.
She recalled a time when she’d been no older than six-year-old Ricky. That hot summer day on this very street, with
her bare feet kicking up dust, she, Vickie and Gwen had meandered downtown. With enough change in their pockets to buy a soda and candy bar at Cozy’s Drugstore, they’d felt like millionaires. Who’d have thought the three of them would actually be rich one day?
She marveled now at the fact that three small girls had had the run of the town without adult supervision, then smiled as she recalled they’d always had someone watching over them. The entire town of Jester had been like one huge extended family, with neighbors looking out for each other’s children as if they were their own. No child—except Dev Devlin—could get away with anything. And none had ever suffered from neglect, either.
Her heart ached with yearning for the feeling of belonging she’d felt then. She really hadn’t missed her own parents that much, not when she’d had an entire community of surrogates to fill the void left by their absence.
Across the street from Vickie’s was the house where Luke lived. He’d bought the place, Vickie had written her, after Vickie married and his parents decided to sell their farm and move to Orlando. Jennifer couldn’t help wondering if Cassie Lou would move there after the wedding, or if she and Luke would build a new house together. Jennifer pushed that painful prospect aside and increased her pace.
The flood of memories kept pace with her, though, no matter how fast she ran. Skating on the McNeil pond at Christmas, hayrides at Thanksgiving, summer barbecues in the town park. Gramma Dolly tucking her into bed at night. Grandpa Henry sitting by the fire, the big family Bible open in his lap, his index finger tracing the Scriptures as he read.
Home.
But as Thomas Wolfe had so aptly written, according to Miss Van Dyke, Jennifer’s boarding school English teacher, you can’t go home again. Others in Jester had carried on with their lives, and with her grandparents dead, and Luke marrying someone else, Jennifer felt she no longer belonged, no matter how badly she might wish to stay and make Jester her home.
Surprise Inheritance Page 11