She thought she’d never see him again...

In the past twelve years, Carly Joslin has made a new life for herself. She moved back home to Reston, Oklahoma, and started a successful organic-farming business. So she’s not about to let her ex-husband, Luke Sanderson, take all that away.

Luke’s oil-extraction operation—right next door to Carly—is a real threat to her livelihood...and her peace of mind. Carly had buried the bittersweet memories of their young love, whirlwind marriage and terrible loss. But not deep enough. And now Luke is back in town, unearthing the past and shaking the very foundations of the life she’s built.

“How many other pieces of land has he ruined?”

“None!” Luke said.

“As far as you know,” Carly replied.

He shook his head in frustration. “I can’t answer that, or give you any facts that I don’t have.”

“Luke, from what you’ve said so far, you wouldn’t tell me even if you did know.”

Before he could answer, she threw her hands in the air. “Never mind. This is a pointless...merry-go-round. Nightmare-go-round,” she amended. “It’s time for you to go, Luke, and...and don’t come back.”

“Carly, if you’d listen to me, I can at least tell you—”

“Lies?” She held up her hand. “No. Go.”

As if to emphasize her fury, the windows rattled in their frames.

“Earthquake,” she said accusingly.

“Well, I didn’t cause it.”

“Yet.”

Luke swung toward the door. “I’ll be back in three months, Carly, and then you’ll have to listen to me.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Reston, Oklahoma. I hope you enjoyed your visit to the southeastern part of the state in At Odds with the Midwife. The Husband She Can’t Forget is the story of Carly Joslin and Luke Sanderson, who married much too young and parted painfully years ago. Now Luke is back and will be starting an oil-extraction process near Joslin Gardens, where Carly grows organic fruits and vegetables. His process could threaten her livelihood and her land itself. Worst of all, his presence is bringing back memories and regrets she’s tried to forget. Having him around will make her face the past even as Luke attempts to succeed in his new venture and avoid hurting Carly again.

Happy reading,

Patricia

The Husband She Can’t Forget

Patricia Forsythe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PATRICIA FORSYTHE is the author of many romance novels and is proud to have received her twenty-five-book pin from Harlequin. She hopes there are many more books to come. A native Arizonan, Patricia loves setting books in areas where she has spent time, like the beautiful Kiamichi Mountains of Oklahoma. She has held a number of jobs, including teaching school, working as a librarian and as a secretary, and operating a care home for developmentally disabled children. Her favorite occupation, though, is writing novels in which the characters get into challenging situations and then work their way out. Each situation and set of characters is different, so sometimes the finished book is as much of a surprise to her as it is to the readers.

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This book is dedicated to my beautiful grandchildren, who give me hope and happiness.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE CRUNCH OF tires as a pickup turned onto the long, graveled drive of Joslin Gardens caused a bobwhite quail to cease the endless reciting of his name and brought Carly Joslin’s attention from the damp, woven cloth she was spreading over the truck bed of fresh-picked vegetables. She frowned. She didn’t recognize the silver dual-cab pickup and she was running short on time. She had to deliver this load of produce to a restaurant on the other side of the county and then change clothes for the Memorial Day barbecue, where she hoped to arrive on time.

It couldn’t be a customer. The fresh produce stand that a couple of high school kids operated for her was shuttered for the day and her employees had gone home. However, people did tend to stop by to ask her advice on gardening, or to purchase one of the pieces of furniture she refurbished. Raising a hand to shade her eyes, she tried to peer through the truck’s tinted windshield to identify her visitor. She usually enjoyed visits from her customers, but there really wasn’t time for an extended chat with anyone today, and besides...

Shock jolted through her, nearly buckling her knees, when she recognized the driver.

“It can’t be,” she whispered as she felt color drain from her face. “What’s he doing here?”

Shakily, she gripped the side of the truck while she reminded herself to breathe and forced her frozen expression into what she hoped was an approximation of a welcoming smile.

The fancy pickup took the rutted and pocked drive slowly, probably to minimize gravel popping up and marring the perfect paint job. The recent rains had laid waste to the drive and Carly intended to have it graded and graveled as soon as the weather improved for an extended period. Now, however, she was glad she had waited. The longer it took for the vehicle to reach her, the more time she had to prepare herself to meet the driver.

Still, she couldn’t quite resist the urge to compare the upscale vehicle with her own truck, which her father had bought the year she was born and everyone in the family had used since then. The only thing new was its paint job: dark green with the Joslin Gardens logo she’d created on the sides—curling vines and plump vegetables shaped like letters and numbers. Her pickup ran beautifully except for the air-conditioning, which no one could coax into doing its job.

The silver truck stopped several feet away from her and Luke Sanderson stepped out of the cab. Instantly she saw that he wasn’t the gangly boy she’d known a dozen years ago, but a self-assured man dressed in crisp jeans and a dark purple shirt.

He was taller than she remembered, but that might be due to his cowboy boots. When she’d known him before, he’d usually worn work boots, sneakers or sandals. The blond hair that had once hung shaggily around his ears was now perfectly cut. It appeared to be a shade darker, and his skin less tanned, probably because he’d spent the intervening years in an office, not working outside as he had back then.

There was no sign of the beard he’d once had. Instead his jaw was smooth shaven. His face was fuller. One thing hadn’t changed, though. His eyes were still a light shade of caramel brown that had so intrigued her from the minute they’d met.

“Hello, Carly,” he said, shutting the pickup’s door behind him and walking over to stand in front of her.

His voice was deeper, she thought, but maybe that was because she hadn’t heard it in so many years. For some crazy reason, her pounding heart had bounced into her throat.

“Hello, Lu-Luke,” she stammered, pausing and trying to get a grip on her emotions. This was the first time she’d spoken to him in twelve years. “This is a surprise.”

“I should have called, but it seemed easier to drop by.” He nodded toward his truck. “I’ve got something for you. I thought if you weren’t here, I could leave it on the porch with a note.”

“Something for me?” She lifted her hands, palm out, as she shook her head. “After all these years, Luke, I can’t imagine...”

“It’s from Wendolin.”

“Your grandmother? But she’s—”

“She left you this in her will. Left it to both of us, actually, but it’s not something I’d be interested in, so it’s all yours.”

“What is it?”

“Come on. I’ll show you.” He walked to the back of the pickup, opened the tailgate and untied the ropes firmly holding a tarp in place around a big, rectangular object.

Although her knees felt a little shaky, Carly followed him. When he flipped the tarp to one side, she gasped.

“Wendolin’s hope chest,” she breathed, tears filling her eyes. Reaching out a shaky hand, she ran her fingers over the ornately carved flat top of the trunk. “This is the one that was in her bedroom, isn’t it? At the foot of her bed.”

“Yes.” Luke’s throat worked and he cleared it before he went on. “She designated years ago that you were to have it. She said you would appreciate it more than anyone else because you love things with a history.”

“That’s true. I...I do appreciate it. And she left this to me? I never expected her to do such a thing.”

“She always loved you. Your visits to her these past few years meant a lot.”

“They meant a lot to me, too, but certainly didn’t mean she had to leave me a family heirloom.” Tears stung her eyes and Carly blinked them back.

“It did to her...and to me.”

Carly couldn’t form an answer around the knot of sorrow, longing and regret that clogged her throat. Wendolin Bayer had been a wonderful, loving woman, a steadfast friend when Carly had needed one the most.

“My dad...”

“What about him?” Carly choked out. Turning away, she used the sleeve of her T-shirt to dab at her eyes. Robert Sanderson was the last person in the world she wanted to talk about, or even think about, right now.

“He said he saw you at Omi’s funeral,” he said.

“Along with about six hundred other people. Between her church work and her community work, many people loved her. It was the most crowded funeral I’ve ever seen.” Carly faced him again, her eyes still bright with tears.

“I didn’t see you.”

“Were you looking for me?” She didn’t know what point he was trying to make, and maybe he didn’t, either. She had seen him at the funeral, from a distance, but had avoided him. She couldn’t face talking to him, and she definitely hadn’t wanted to talk to his father. She had made it a point to slip in as the service started and sit in the back, one of the few seats left, and grieve on her own.

When Luke didn’t respond, she went on. “I only stayed for the service then I came home. I had produce to pick and deliver.”

Luke glanced around, seeming to notice the gardens for the first time, along with the loaded bed of the pickup. His attention lingered on the greenhouses, then on the rows of carrots and beets in the small field. “This is beautiful, Carly. Prosperous. Do you have any help?”

“Some. Mostly high school kids who may or may not be dependable. If I need to, I can manage on my own.”

Eager to be finished with this awkward encounter, she reached out, ready to pull the trunk toward her, but Luke put a restraining hand on her arm. She jerked away then blushed when she caught the dismay in his face.

“Sorry,” he said. “But it’s heavy, so I’d better get it. Omi left a bunch of things in there for you. I didn’t look at the contents, thought it was none of my business.”

“I can do it.” Carly flexed her biceps. “I do manual labor all day long. I can help you with this trunk.”

Luke looked at her arm then at her determined face. “Yes, I guess you can. Do you have a hand truck? That would make it easier for both of us.”

“Sure. Be right back.” She took a few steps and then turned. “Don’t do it yourself. Wait for me.”

Once inside the equipment shed, Carly glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was doing as she said, then grasped the handle of the hand truck, tilted it back on its wheels and rolled it out of the shed, her movements automatic.

She wished Luke had called first so she would have had time to prepare herself, to be the in-charge woman she had worked so hard to become for more than a decade. He didn’t have her phone number, but he could have asked Tom or Frances for it. His uncle and aunt knew everyone in the county. In fact, they were hosting the Memorial Day barbecue.

She paused, glancing at Luke. Of course. That’s why he was here. He was going to the barbecue, although he’d never attended before. Well, at least she knew. It wouldn’t be another surprise. She only wished there wouldn’t be so many people there who knew about their past—they’d be watching to see how she and Luke reacted to each other. Her two best friends, Gemma Whitmire and Lisa Thomas, would be at the barbecue, as well. They would help her avoid him if necessary.

“Here we go,” she said, all business as she wheeled the hand truck to the back of his pickup. “I want to put the trunk in the house.”

Luke jumped into the truck bed and pushed the trunk while Carly pulled. When it was far enough to tilt over the tailgate, he leaped down and helped her lower it to the ground, then onto the hand truck. Together, they rolled it to the house, lifted it up the three shallow steps to the front porch and then through the door into the living room.

Carly moved the coffee table away from the sofa and said, “Here is where I want it.”

They moved it into place then stood together, catching their breath.

“I had a couple of guys help me get it into my truck, but we probably should have unpacked it before we moved it.” Luke flexed his shoulders. “I don’t know what Omi put in there, but it feels like gold bricks.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll treasure it.”

He glanced around the living room, his gaze skimming over the 1940s-style sofa and chair she had reupholstered, the tables and bookcases she had refinished, and the paintings she had unearthed at estate sales and junk shops. She’d painted some of the pictures, too—abstract designs where she’d been playing with color, trying to recreate the feel of a sunset or the exact shade of a field of bluebonnets.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I can see that you will. This is very different than what your parents had in here. How are they, by the way?”

“They’re doing well now, but slowing down. They took everything with them when my dad got sick and they moved to Tulsa, so I’ve made the house my own.”

“It reminds me of you.” The corner of his mouth edged up. “It’s cozy. What you always wanted.”

And nothing at all like the mansion where he’d been raised in an upscale section of Dallas, and probably nothing like whatever penthouse apartment he now inhabited.

She folded her hands at her waist. “It’s the home I wanted to create for myself.” Silently she added, for us, but those were words she would never speak out loud.

“The place looks great, Carly.” Luke started for the door. “You’ve achieved what your parents tried to do with their organic garden. You’ve worked hard.”

“Thank you.” From nowhere a blast of regret and nostalgia swept over her. “I needed to keep busy after we...”

“Yes, of course.” Luke opened the door and stepped out. He held it open so she could follow him if she wanted to, but she didn’t.

Her only desire was to go huddle in her chair, to settle into calmness. She couldn’t do that, though. She had an order to deliver and a party to attend. She’d been looking forward to that, but now even the thought of the get-together filled her with dread.

“Thank you for delivering the trunk, Luke. I’ll take good care of it, and of whatever Wendolin left inside.”

“I know you will.” He descended the steps then turned back. “Organic gardening? Is that very labor intensive?”

“Of course, but it’s worth it because I can honestly say the produce is as fresh, good, and clean as I can make it.”

He nodded, as he looked out at her fields again. “I see.” He paused again, before he said, “Maybe I’ll see you later.” With a wave, he strode to his truck, climbed in and drove away.

Grateful the awkward encounter was finished, Carly leaned against the door frame and watched the Oklahoma red dust rise behind his tires then dissipate into the breeze.

Tears sprang into her eyes and she blinked hard to fight them back. Turning, she looked at her legacy from Luke’s German-born grandmother, the one who had taught her the importance of cherishing her family, the one who had comforted her when the family she and Luke had tried to create had disappeared in a miscarriage and the cold, silent recriminations that ended their brief marriage.

It all seemed so long ago, and she wouldn’t have thought it could still hurt so much. She thought she’d dealt with it, put it behind her, forgiven herself. And him. But maybe facing hurtful memories and being able to forgive were skills that needed to be practiced.

Sitting on the sofa, she ran her fingers over the design of flowers and birds carved into the top of the trunk. This wasn’t a piece she would refinish. That would be a travesty. It had come to America with the Bayer family when they fled Nazi Germany eighty years ago, but she didn’t know how old it was. The faded paint held only a hint of the beautiful colors that had once decorated the piece and the nicks and scratches spoke of years of everyday use. This had been treasured by Wendolin and her family, and Carly would continue that tradition.

She was tempted to lift the lid to see what was inside, to examine the precious items that had made it so heavy, but a glance at the clock reminded her she should have left ten minutes ago.

She patted the trunk lid. “I’ll be back,” she promised.

Hurrying to her bedroom, she grabbed her purse, along with the outfit she would wear to the Sandersons’ and a pair of highly polished boots. The restaurant owner to whom she was delivering her produce wouldn’t mind if she used their ladies’ room to change clothes and freshen up for the party. Gemma and Lisa would probably laugh because she never dressed up, but having seen Luke, she was glad she’d made the decision to do so tonight.

* * *

“GLAD THAT’S OVER,” Luke murmured as he rolled down the highway toward his aunt and uncle’s house. He had done his duty to Omi by delivering the trunk and putting it where Carly wanted it. Now it was time to go see what kinds of jobs Aunt Frances had for him to do before tonight’s barbecue.

He couldn’t keep his thoughts from returning to Carly, though. The lush prosperity of Joslin Gardens had been amazing, so different from the scrubby acreage on which her parents had first experimented with organic vegetables. It had been tough going since the ground below the thin topsoil was shale. Luke was sure the garden’s current success was entirely due to Carly’s hard work.

He’d never forgotten how beautiful she was with her deep brown eyes, strong features and shining black hair, and maturity had made her even more beautiful. He hadn’t seen her in all these years—had never been to the annual barbecue—because he hadn’t wanted to run into her... He didn’t want to bring up bad memories for her, but that’s what he’d done this afternoon.

He wouldn’t have come this year if he hadn’t been caught in circumstances he couldn’t change. He would tell her all about it as soon as things were settled. After that, he would deal with the consequences. And the hurt.

* * *

THE BARBECUE AT the Sanderson ranch was everything Carly remembered from the past few years, and everything she had hoped it would be this year—crowded, busy and fun. Best of all, the food looked delicious. Frances and her helpers had outdone themselves. Carly took that as a personal favor because she liked to eat and hadn’t had anything since breakfast.

The owner of the restaurant where she’d made her delivery had offered to have the cook fix her something, but Carly’s only interest had been in changing into her new red skirt and top and pulling on her boots. These were her dancing shoes and she intended to have fun tonight. She deserved it after the jolt she’d received today.

She greeted the people she knew, met a few more, and stood in line at the buffet table. Unashamedly, she filled two plates then turned to look for a place to sit. Spying an empty spot at a table where Lisa Thomas sat with several others, she headed in that direction.

Once she was seated, Lisa turned to her with her eyes wide and spoke quietly. “Did you know Luke is here?” She nodded to a spot across the patio where Luke was talking to his aunt and uncle. The three of them appeared to be deep in a serious discussion.

Tom and Frances Sanderson had held this barbecue every Memorial Day weekend since they had moved to Reston a few years ago. The news of the property for sale had come from Carly’s own father, a longtime acquaintance of Tom’s even before his daughter had met and married the Sandersons’ nephew. They had proved to be huge assets to the community because they were tireless fund-raisers for local causes. Their current passion was reopening the county hospital, which had been closed for several years. Carly knew Tom and Frances had plans to charmingly convince people to donate to the hospital fund, or twist a few arms if necessary.

“Luke?” she asked, bringing her thoughts back to Lisa’s question. “Yes. He came to my house.”

Lisa’s eyes rounded. “Seriously? Why?”

Around bites of food, Carly told her about the trunk.

“Wendolin remembered you in her will? How sweet. She was a wonderful person.”

“She was.” Carly smiled as she remembered. “So warm and funny...and random.”

Lisa smiled. “Yes, I remember the stories you told Gemma and me of how she’d start one thing, abandon it, start another, come back to the first, go to another.”

“Somehow she got a great deal done. Usually helping other people. And she was always fun to be around, even if her way of thinking was confusing.” Carly sighed. “She was delightful.”

Her eyes full of laughter, she asked, “Did I tell you about how she used to go to the end of her sidewalk every day and blow kisses to the kids on the school buses that went by?”

Lisa snickered. “Yes, and one day she failed to notice the passing bus wasn’t bright yellow and blew kisses to a load of county prisoners heading to pick up trash on the side of the highway. That must have been the best part of their day.”

“No doubt. She was a little...odd, but in the sweetest way. I’m sure she was the best thing in Luke’s life for the past dozen years.”

“Oh, why do you say that?”

Carly chewed thoughtfully, “Because after his mother died, she was the biggest positive female influence in his life—”

“Until he met you.”

Carly gave a small shrug. “We both know that didn’t turn out to be very positive for him.”

“Not your fault,” Lisa insisted.

Carly knew that wasn’t true, but she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She was grateful when Lisa’s attention was snagged by someone else.

Before Carly had finished eating, Lisa and a couple of people left the table and others took their places. Carly looked up from her salad to see Luke, along with Tom and Frances, settling into chairs opposite her. Both men were looking anxiously at Frances, whose face had gone pale.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, Frannie?” Tom fussed at his wife as he handed her a glass of ice water. “When was the last time you had something to drink or eat?”

“Right now,” she answered, dutifully gulping some water and then digging into the food Luke placed in front of her.

Once Tom and Luke were sure she was eating, they glanced around the table. Luke gave a start when his gaze met Carly’s.

“Oh, hi.” He inclined his head. “Didn’t see you here.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” Carly answered. Since she’d had a minute to steel herself, she was able to give them a genuine smile. “It’s the real start of summer and the food—” she moved her fork in a circular motion “—is incredible.”

Frances looked from Carly to Luke then smiled. “Thank you, dear. I have to say what we’ve prepared has only been enhanced by your fresh produce. Your suggestion of grilled zucchini spiced with red pepper was inspired. Everyone seems to love it.”

“I know my people. Around here, spicy always sells. Having alternative zucchini recipes helps me sell the overabundance, which has only increased with all the rain we’ve been having. And then there’s the fact that my squash plants don’t know a thing about birth control.”

Frances and Tom laughed and Luke’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned at her.

This isn’t too bad, Carly thought. She could do this, no problem. She could sit and chat with this lovely couple and her own ex-husband, make small talk while stuffing her face. She took a bite of the cauliflower salad, savoring the tang of the Parmesan cheese.

There were two other people at the table, Roland and Becky Hall, whom she had known all her life. They were certainly aware of her long-ago marriage to Luke, but they wouldn’t bring it up.

Becky looked at Frances and said, “Thank you so much for inviting us. We haven’t been able to come in previous years, but we’re so glad we could make it this time. I love getting to know people. Where are you and your husband from originally, and how did you meet?”

“She’s a born romantic,” Roland contributed. “She loves this kind of stuff.”

“We’re from a small town about fifty miles from Houston,” Tom answered. “So we’re transplanted Texans.”

“We always knew each other growing up,” Frances added. “Although Tom is far, far older than I am.”

“Two years!” he objected, drawing a laugh from everyone.

Frances put down her fork and reached over to take her husband’s hand. “He’d been asking me out for a year...”

“And she always turned me down. I think I scared her.” Tom shook his head as if he was still mystified by that.

“You definitely scared me. You were so serious. Until prom. I thought that would be a safe date, not too awkward, lots of other people around. I could hide out in the girls’ restroom with my friends if need be... And then the staircase happened.”

“The staircase?” Luke, who obviously hadn’t heard this story before, looked from his aunt to his uncle.

“The prom was held at a beautiful ballroom a couple of towns over from ours. It had a big, sweeping staircase and all of us had to give our tickets to someone at the top of the stairs, have our picture taken together, or with our friends, and then go down to the ballroom.”

Frances paused for effect and sipped her water, her eyes laughing over the rim.

“And?” Carly prompted when she couldn’t stand the suspense. “What happened?”

“I was wearing my first pair of real high heels.”

Carly and Becky groaned.

“For days, I had practiced walking and dancing in those four-inch nightmares. I paid my little brother to be my dance partner. But it never occurred to me to practice going up and down stairs. After we got our picture taken, we turned to start down the steps.” Frances winced. “My heel caught on the carpet, my foot came right out of the shoe and I pitched forward.” Frances made tumbling motions with her hands. “I somersaulted all the way to the bottom without stopping—”

“While I rushed along trying to catch her, but she was moving too fast.”

The breathless audience stared as Luke asked, “Aunt Frances, were you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” she answered on a sigh. “I lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to get my breath back, and this man—” she gave Tom a loving look “—this man whipped a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and said, ‘You win the bet, Frances. I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to prove you’re head over heels for me.’”

Everyone broke into laughter and applause.

“I was the belle of the ball,” she concluded. “And I was so sore the next few days I could hardly move. I learned my lesson, though. I haven’t worn four-inch heels since.”

“Best twenty bucks I ever spent,” Tom said smugly. “We got married six years later.” He leaned over and kissed his wife, who happily kissed him back.

“I’m only glad I wasn’t the cause of you taking that tumble,” he went on. “I was so awkward and nervous, I’m surprised it wasn’t my feet you tripped over. You never would have gone out with me again.”

“Absolutely true,” Frances said.

Carly’s gaze flew to Luke. He was looking at his relatives with pride and humor, but he must have felt her attention on him because he turned his eyes to meet hers. A shadow passed over his features and he twisted away.

She and Luke certainly didn’t have a story like that, full of drama, but also sweetness. Theirs had consisted of overwhelming attraction, pain and recriminations.

Suddenly desperate to get away, Carly began gathering her silverware and stacking it on top of her two empty plates. “If you’ll excuse me, everyone, I know Frances’s chocolate cake is over on the dessert table and it’s eager to be my new best friend. I think I’ll take a piece into a dark corner and show it some appreciation.”

Becky smiled as she asked, “Cake, too? Sounds wonderful. I wish I could eat like that.”

“You might have to work as hard as Carly does,” Luke said. “She owns Joslin Gardens and does most of the work herself.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Becky said, giving a small wave of her hand as if to shoo away her previous error. “I knew that. And you refinish furniture, too, right? I’ve been looking for a small table and a couple of chairs for my breakfast nook. The one I’ve got is too big and too modern-looking for my house. I like retro.”

Even though she wanted to get away, Carly couldn’t resist an opportunity to talk about her other business. “As a matter of fact, I do. I recently completed a rebuild of a little gateleg table with two chairs. I painted it pale yellow. It looks like something straight out of the 1950s.”

“Sounds perfect,” Becky said. “When can I see it?”

They arranged a time for her to come out to Joslin Gardens and Carly was at last able to stand and begin making her escape, but she stopped when Tom asked, “You’re going to open a shop in town, right? To sell your furniture and other pieces?”

“That’s right, although I haven’t settled on a space yet. I’m calling it Upcycle because everything will be reclaimed and repurposed.”

“Excellent,” Becky said. “I’ll probably be a regular customer.” Her husband squawked an objection and she gave him a playful punch on the arm. She turned her smile on Luke. “And what about you? Will you be going back to Dallas after the holiday?”

He sat back, stretched out his legs and looked at Carly as he said, “I’ll be around for a few days, then back to Dallas. I am buying property in this area, though.”

Carly’s face felt as frozen as a Siberian lake in winter. Her heart pounded and a wave of distress swept over her. She hoped that didn’t mean he planned to buy a house nearby. If he did, she might run into him anytime.

* * *

DISMAYED, LUKE WATCHED as Carly gave everyone at the table a bright smile. “It’s always nice to have more people in Reston,” she said before she hurried away. The Halls followed a few minutes later, heading toward the dessert table, as well.

He hadn’t meant to spring it on her like that. He’d only decided today, when he’d received the reports from the engineers, that Reston would be the perfect place for his project.

“Well, that wasn’t as awkward as it could have been,” Frances said, her sympathetic gaze following Carly.

“It was awkward enough, and I suppose I could have told her before I made a general announcement.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” his uncle said. “Carly’s so busy, you’ll probably never see her.” Tom paused. “I’m glad you’re going to be here for a while. How long will your project take?”

“Dad’s given me nine months—”

“Because he thinks you can’t do it in that length of time, and then you’ll come back to Dallas with your tail between your legs.” Tom shook his head. “My brother still thinks a vacancy is going to occur and he’ll be king of the world.”

Luke nodded and gave an ironic twist of his lips. “True, but that’s another reason I’m glad I can buy the property I need from you.” He paused. “The location, though...” He ran his hand over his chin.

“It has everything you need, Luke. The right layers of shale, privacy—”

“A crummy road to keep people out,” Frances added.

“Although it will have to be graded so we can get the equipment in and out,” Luke answered.

“And you won’t have a fight over the mineral rights.” Tom grimaced. “Or the ones on the adjoining property.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“I know, but you don’t have time to look for another place, not with my brother breathing down your neck.” Tom held out his scarred rancher’s hands, palms up. “I don’t see what else you can do.”

“Me neither,” Luke answered in a dull voice.

All three brooded over the situation for a moment before Frances stood and said, “I think it’s time for me to start making the rounds and charming people out of their money.” She smiled when she spied her daughter-in-law carrying her baby son across the patio. “Good. Max is up from his nap. I’ll take our grandson along as my sidekick.”

As she swept away in a swirl of brightly colored skirt, Tom watched her go and said, “Marrying her was the smartest thing I ever did.”

Glad for the change of subject, Luke nodded. “I agree.” He fell silent, mulling over the fact that so many of his family members had happy marriages, successful relationships. His parents had been happy, even though they were completely different people—his mother had been sweet and easy-going, his dad was...well, tough. All indications were that his Omi, Wendolin, had been happy with her husband, Harry, who had died when Luke was twelve. The rest of the family seemed happy, too. Not only Tom and Frances, but their son, Trent, and his wife, Mia, their lives even more complete now that they had Max.

He fought a surge of envy, knowing that he and Carly and their disastrous marriage, as well as the loss of their baby, were the exception that proved the rule in his family.

He also knew that he was slipping very close to feeling sorry for himself. Standing, he went to snag a piece of Aunt Frances’s cake before it was all gone.

* * *

THIS WAS THE perfect time. He wiggled under the barbed-wire fence and reached back for the bucket whose handle he’d wrapped with cloth so it wouldn’t make noise if it fell. Now he just had to make sure he didn’t drop the bucket itself, especially not after he filled it with what he needed.

Bent at the waist and keeping his head low, he scuttled down the rows of spring onions, carrots and beets. He wasn’t interested in those. He stopped at the blueberry bushes and carefully opened the wood-and-chicken-wire lid of the first protective cage built to keep the animals from eating the berries.

No one had expected a two-legged animal to show up and help himself, he thought, and grinned in the light of the full moon. He wasn’t being greedy, he assured himself. They had plenty and he planned to take only a few from each bush. That way, there would be enough left for tomorrow night. Working quickly, he filled his bucket, closed the cages and disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER THREE

THE NEXT MORNING, Carly stood on the lane that sloped north to south across her fields and watched her employees as they picked and loaded produce. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion this morning. Probably due to the Memorial Day holiday. Any kind of break in the routine seemed to throw her teenage helpers off their stride. The delivery to the Mustang Supermarket would be late today, but she’d called to tell the manager about the delay. Now she needed to not stress over it.

She couldn’t blame the holiday weekend for her sleepless night or the edginess that had awakened her with the first light of dawn and sent her roaming the fields for peace. She couldn’t stop thinking about Luke and the fact that he was going to be around Reston. She didn’t know how long he would be staying—although his mention of buying property certainly suggested a lengthy stay—or when she would see him again, but she dreaded it.

Turning back toward her equipment shed, she took a deep breath and worked to quell the anxious flutter that had started in her stomach. She didn’t want to think about Luke, and she hated being late or appearing unreliable. That was why she had resisted Lisa and Gemma’s efforts to get her to open a shop in which to sell her recycled goods. Keeping up the stock, finding old pieces to transform into new ones, having regular shop hours had all seemed overwhelming until her friends had convinced her to at least give it a try. If it was too much or if the shop was unsuccessful, they’d argued, she could go back to posting her pieces online and either shipping them or having the new owners pick them up.

She didn’t like the idea of quitting if her shop didn’t succeed. Giving up wasn’t in her nature. She had only ever given up on one thing in her life—marriage to Luke—and that wasn’t a decision she’d made alone.

For the new shop, Lisa had helped her find a couple of reliable employees and Carly had hired more help for her gardens to free her up for the shop. She only hoped her newest commercial enterprise didn’t turn out to be a huge mistake.

For some reason she’d been feeling restless lately, ready to take on something new but not sure what that would be. Her two best friends thought she was a little crazy to work so hard when she was finally in a position to hire more employees, but she’d developed the habit when she’d returned to Reston after she and Luke had broken up. She had recovered from her double heartbreak by spending days in the fields or the greenhouse and evenings refinishing furniture. All that labor had consumed her time and thoughts, and exhausted her so much that she’d fallen into dreamless sleep every night. Now those habits were so ingrained she couldn’t change.

She walked up to the front of the shed as Jay and Sheena arrived, driving four-wheeled utility vehicles pulling garden carts full of vegetables. They began loading the produce into the big plastic bins she used for deliveries and stacking them carefully in the back of her truck while Carly hurried inside to brush her hair into a ponytail, slather on sunscreen and plop a wide-brimmed hat onto her head.

As she passed through the living room, she gave Wendolin’s trunk a yearning glance. She was eager to open it and begin going through the contents. It would bring her closer to the sweet woman she had known, and it might help her put parts of her long-ago marriage to Luke into perspective. Even after all this time, she still didn’t fully understand some of the things that had happened. Tonight, she promised herself. She would open it tonight.

By the time she returned to the shed, the kids had the produce loaded and Jay was ready to go. Watching them work as she hurried from the house, Carly thought again how lucky she was to have these two working for her. There were two other occasional employees who operated her produce stand, but they didn’t have the work ethic of Sheena and Jay.

Sheena Blake was the oldest of five children of a single mom and needed to earn money to help out at home. She was pretty in a quiet and earnest way, and willing to work.

Jay Morton was the son of the mayor of Reston, and he’d been raised to be a hard worker. She knew he liked video games and electronic devices. A couple of times she had caught him playing games on his phone when he should have been sorting and packing produce but, for the most part, he was a good employee.

Carly smiled as she handed Sheena the clipboard with the paperwork Jay would need. He was eager to get going, finish this job and go on to the next one, while Sheena was fixated on double-checking everything. Carly feared that her own meticulous habits were beginning to affect the girl.

“Don’t drive too fast,” she said to Jay. “I don’t know where all the extra people have come from, but traffic in town seems heavier than usual.”

“I know, Carly. I just came from town,” he said, nodding toward the motorcycle he rode everywhere. He shook his head and exchanged looks with Sheena as if he thought their persnickety boss was losing her mind. Sheena smiled back as color rushed into her face.

“Oh, of course.” Carly gave him the keys.

As he pulled out, she and Sheena went back to work, picking the remainder of the vegetables they needed to deliver today and getting them ready to go. Carly was grateful for the manual labor that left her too busy to think about yesterday’s encounters with Luke.

When they took a break, Sheena took a long drink of water from one of the bottles Carly always kept in a cooler in the shed, then poured some into her hand and splashed it on her face. Once she was cooled off, she turned troubled eyes to Carly. “Have you seen Mrs. Salyer lately?”

Carly paused, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her elderly neighbor. “No, not in a few weeks. Why?”

“My mom stopped to see her yesterday and she said Mrs. Salyer was in bed. In the middle of the day.”

“Era wasn’t sewing or gardening or...putting a new roof on her house?”

“No. Mom said it looks like Mrs. Salyer didn’t even put in a garden this year.”

“Is she sick?”

“She said she’s just tired. At least, that’s what she told Mom.”

“I’d better check on her.” Hearing that Era Salyer was napping instead of working was like learning the sun had decided not to rise one morning. It simply didn’t happen. “Can you finish up here?”

“Sure.”

Carly scooped her cell phone out of her pocket and called Era, but there was no answer. She grabbed a basket and filled it with fresh produce.

Carly hurried to one of the four-wheelers and rode down the highway, being careful to keep her slower vehicle at the edge of the pavement.

At the mailbox marked Salyer, she turned in and made her way over the rutted lane, which wasn’t in much better shape than her own. She stopped in front of Era’s small house, noting the unaccustomed sight of dry and drooping roses and hydrangeas. At the side of the house, the plot that usually held Era’s lush vegetable garden was choked with weeds.

Carly hurried to the front door. A scuffling noise followed her knock and, after a pause, Era called out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Carly Joslin, Mrs. Salyer. I haven’t seen you in a while so I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Instead of opening the door wide as was her custom and embracing her, Era opened it only as far as the guard chain would allow and peeped out.

“Oh, hi, Carly. How are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Carly tried to look past the older lady, but could see nothing in the dim room—a room whose windows had always been open to light and air. She brought her attention back to Era, noting that her face seemed thinner.

“I’m fine. Nothing wrong with me, honey. Just a little tired.”

Carly held up the basket. “I brought you some vegetables and some berries.”

Era frowned. “Berries? Oh, I thought you already left me some...”

When her voice trailed off, Carly asked, “Thought I left you what?”

“Oh, oh, nothing. I...don’t know what I was going to say.” She looked up and smiled. “Thank you, honey. Just leave it on the porch. I don’t want to open the door because... I might have a cold and I don’t want to get you sick, too.”

Carly blinked and did as the older lady asked, setting down the basket as she said, “Era, please let me know if you need anything. Really, anything at all.”

“I will, hon. Thank you.”

Before Carly could say another thing, Era closed the door. The dead bolt clicked into place.

Puzzled, Carly walked slowly to her four-wheeler.

“This is so strange,” she whispered. She couldn’t recall a single time when Era had behaved this way. A widow for many years, she had lost her only son to an oilfield accident a few years ago. In spite of those hardships, she had always seemed content with her life. She was hardworking and independent and had been friendly and welcoming to her neighbors.

Carly couldn’t think of anything that would have caused such a change in her, unless she really was sick.

She glanced over her shoulder to see that Era was holding back one of the living room curtains to give a reassuring wave and a smile.

It was as if she didn’t want Carly around but didn’t want her to worry, either.

Deciding to call again in a few days, or to send someone, Carly drove home and reported the visit to Sheena, who said she would tell her mom about it.

Jay returned from town with the truck and the three of them were finished by noon. Since Sheena lived on the outskirts of Reston, less than three miles away, she rode home on her bicycle, leaving Carly and Jay to load the last delivery onto the truck.

When they were done, she said, “Jay, I can take this to the restaurant. I’ve got to go into Toncaville, anyway.”

He grinned. “Did your favorite secondhand store get a new delivery of beat-up furniture?”

Teasingly, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you’ve been working for me too long. You know me too well.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’m pretty sure I deserve a raise.”

She only laughed and waved him off as he mounted his motorcycle, but he paused before putting on his helmet. “Um, Carly, did you pick any of the blueberries yet?”

“Only a few to take to Mrs. Salyer. She loves my berries. Why?”

“I don’t know, just seems like there aren’t as many on the bushes as there were a few days ago.” He rubbed his chin, where he was attempting to grow his scraggly few whiskers into a beard. “’Course, it might be rabbits, skunks, squirrels.”

“Animals that can open the protective chicken-wire cages?” Carly asked.

“Nah, I guess not. Besides, I didn’t see any tracks.” With a shrug, Jay put on his helmet, started the engine and roared away.

Carly smiled as she watched him go. A raise was in the near future, but she wasn’t quite sure when it would happen. He was a good employee and she was going to miss him when he went to college in the fall of next year. In the meantime, she would take a look at the blueberry bushes, as soon as she got the chance.

After making sure the produce was shielded from the sun beneath a damp cloth, Carly rushed inside to shower and change for the trip into town.

When she opened her closet, she didn’t grab shorts to go with the turquoise tank top she’d pulled over her head, but instead took out a dark purple peasant skirt with an asymmetrical hem that fell to midcalf.

She held it up and admired the beautiful color. Lisa had dragged her to Tulsa on a shopping spree, insisting that Carly needed to wear something besides work clothes and boots. Carly had argued she had nowhere to wear skirts like this. Lisa, who worked in real estate and dressed up every day, insisted she could invent a reason.

“Invent a reason?” Carly had asked.

Looking at the beautiful skirt now, Carly thought there was no reason to wear it. She would only be dropping vegetables off at a restaurant, then making a quick stop at The Classy Junque Trunk to look for items she could freshen up and resell at Upcycle—once she actually decided on a space.

She slipped it on and twirled in front of the mirror. No reason to wear such a dressy skirt, except that she loved it and sometimes, like last night, she needed to dress like a girl. Grabbing her purse, she hurried outside, locked the door and turned around, only to see Luke Sanderson’s truck stopped beside hers and him stepping out.

CHAPTER FOUR

LUKE REMOVED HIS sunglasses and his gaze swept over her as he smiled. “Hi, Carly. Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by again.”

Her surprise at seeing him gave way to an unexpected flush of heat. “Um, well, no,” she said, but she frowned uncertainly. There was no way to stop him. There wasn’t a gate on her drive, no fence across the front where she could attach one.

“Good.” As he stepped forward he removed an envelope from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, and I forgot to give you this when I brought the trunk. It’s from my grandmother and it’s addressed to both of us.” He gave a small shrug and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “We’re supposed to open it together, but it looks like you’re getting ready to go somewhere.”

“I have a delivery in Toncaville, then I have a stop to make before I come back here.”

“Maybe we could set a time and I could come back tomorrow.” He watched her, his light brown eyes steady.

“Um, yes, that might be best or...” She glanced down at her dressy skirt. Maybe seeing him again was short-circuiting her common sense, or maybe this was her day for snap decisions. Anxiety tightened her chest but she took a deep breath to calm herself and considered what to do. She didn’t want to see him again, didn’t want the possibility of him returning tomorrow hanging over her head. She knew he was going to come back to this area but didn’t want to see him then, either. On the other hand, she owed a huge debt to Wendolin. Carly tried to manufacture a smile. “Or you could come along with me. You could read the letter and we could talk about it.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He pressed the button on his key fob to lock his truck and walked over to open the driver’s door on hers, standing back while she slid behind the wheel, then striding around to climb in beside her.

Carly started the truck, taking a moment to be grateful that Jay had cleaned it out earlier, making sure there was no mud on the seat and sweeping up most of the dried bits of grass and plant matter on the floor.

As they pulled onto the road and headed in the direction of Toncaville, Luke turned toward her and lifted his knee onto the seat. Settling back, he slipped a finger beneath the flap of the envelope and opened it carefully. He pulled out the letter, but before he unfolded it, he saw that there was bold writing on the outside of the last page.

“‘Dear Bonbon,’” he started, but was interrupted by a snicker from Carly.

“I never knew Wendolin called you Bonbon,” she said, sending him an amused glance.

Luke’s eyebrows drew together in a pained expression. “I begged her not to and she stopped for a long time, but she probably figured that since this was the last thing she would write to me, she could call me whatever she wanted.”

“No doubt.” She nodded toward the paper. “Go ahead.”

Luke returned to the letter. “‘Dear Bonbon, be sure you and Carly unpack the trunk together.’”

Carly took her eyes off the road for a second to stare at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

How much more complicated was this going to get? she wondered, but she said, “We should honor her last wishes. We can take care of it this evening.” She glanced at the dashboard clock, wondering if there was time to turn around and take Luke back to his truck. There wasn’t. “I have to make this delivery in Toncaville and I don’t want to be late because this is a new customer, so you’ll still have to come with me.”

“That fits right in with my plans,” he said, facing forward and stretching out his legs. “My uncle was making noises this morning about me helping him build an outdoor play set for Max. The kid’s not even a year old, can’t walk yet. How’s he going to climb the thing?”

“Knowing your knack for free styling on building projects, Tom was probably counting on you to come up with something.”

Luke grinned. “Like a baby elevator to take him to the top of the slide.” He thought about it for a second. “A little chair attached to a pulley would work. Have to have a safety harness and a crank that can be operated easily.”

“Now you’re talking.” Carly took a breath. This wasn’t so hard, and having him along, talking so easily like this, helped her quell her anxiety about the lateness of today’s deliveries. She spent so much time alone, working in her gardens or various refurbishing projects, it felt good to have someone else along—or at least that was what she was telling herself.

Luke gave her a sidelong glance. “So you remember how I like to improvise on building projects, huh?”

“Yes, I do.” She also recalled that when they were first married, they had talked about buying a house—a fixer-upper they could remodel the way they wanted it—or even building one themselves. A home where they could raise their child. Instead they had lived in a high-rise in Dallas, a sharp-angles-and-glass creation owned by his father’s corporation. It had been completely unsuited to Carly’s interests and nature, but she’d thought they wouldn’t be there very long. In fact, it was the only place they’d ever lived together.

Luke was looking out his window, watching the pine trees zip past. He was relaxed, at ease, his hand wrapped around the flip-down handle above the door, fingers drumming on the hard plastic. She needed to try to be the same.

She knew it was silly—a woman of thirty-two, who made a point of seeming happy and carefree, becoming twisted with anxiety about a late delivery. She had worked so long on her own, though, been responsible for every detail of her business, that she found it almost impossible to relax about any part of it. She knew she needed to be calmer, to take things easier.

She spotted a small, dark figure ahead and slammed on the brakes.

“Whoa.” Luke shot his hand out to steady himself against the dashboard. “What is it, Carly?”

She put the truck in Park, hit the hazard lights and vaulted from the cab—or would have if she hadn’t become tangled in her full skirt. With a sound of annoyance, she tugged it out of the way and jumped out.

“I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder as she slammed the door.

* * *

LUKE STEPPED OUT as Carly darted up the road. Several yards in front of the truck, she stooped to pick something up. When she turned, he saw it was a turtle. Holding it with a hand on each side of the shell, she hurried across the road and carefully set the reptile down in the bar ditch. She watched it for a minute, then nodded. She turned back to the truck but stopped suddenly when she saw that he was only a few feet behind her.

He pointed to the turtle, which was slowly climbing out of the ditch to make his way across the field.

“What was that all about?”

“Saving a life,” she answered breezily. “Come on.”

He paused and stared after her, but when it looked like she wasn’t going to offer any further explanation—or wait for him—he hurried after her, swinging into the truck as she started to roll.

Luke fastened his seat belt and was on the verge of asking about the turtle when she stopped again. This time, though, there were two turtles. When she said, “Help me,” he followed, snatching up one of the creatures at the moment a car zipped past, causing him to stumble back. Recovering his balance and giving the driver an annoyed look, he followed her to the bar ditch, but this time to the opposite side from where she’d carried the last one.

The turtle craned its head from one side to another as it opened and closed its mouth. Looking at Carly, Luke asked, “Are you on a one-woman turtle rescue crusade?”

“Yes, but they’re actually tortoises. The one you’re carrying is called a snapping turtle, but it’s a tortoise.”

He set it down hastily. “Can’t they get across the road by themselves? They seemed to be doing okay.”

“Did you see how fast that car was going?” she asked with an indignant wave of her hand. “These tortoises can’t move fast enough to get across the road before being hit by a maniac like that. Every year at this time it’s the same thing—tortoises are moving around, crossing the road, and many of them get run over. It makes me sick. I think some people deliberately aim for them.” She paused and stood, watching the two animals.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Making sure they’re heading away from the road, not back onto it.”

She stood with her hands on her hips, bending slightly to watch the rescues inch out of the ditch and into the field beside it. He suspected that if Carly had more time, and had been wearing something other than a skirt and dressy sandals, she would have climbed through the split-rail cedar fence and carried them much farther away from the asphalt.

That was one thing that hadn’t changed. Carly wanted to see things set right. Her friend Gemma had been the one who had rescued animals, but Carly had helped find them homes and then gone back to check to make sure the animals were well cared for.

He remembered how she would become enraged over some injustice she’d seen on the local news and talk about ways to solve the issue. He also never forgot how she’d turned heads when they were out together. Her striking looks drew other men’s attention like magnets swinging toward true north. He’d felt extremely proud and intensely jealous. His comeuppance had come with a vengeance when they’d split up and he’d been stopped cold any time he’d seen a tall, black-haired woman with a loose-hipped walk striding down the street. He’d almost followed a couple of them, thinking it was Carly, knowing he wouldn’t so much as say hello. Of course, it never had been her. Gemma and Lisa had swept her back home to Reston so she could recover and escape the misery he’d caused. Eventually he’d had to leave Dallas because the memories were so hard and his pining for her so sharp.

Looking at her now, gazing intently at two tortoises who didn’t know how to keep themselves safe, he experienced echoes of that hunger. When they’d met, she had been as clueless about self-protection as those tortoises. At twenty-one, he’d been cocky, chasing adventures and experiences, determined to get what he’d wanted, and as soon as he’d seen Carly, she was what he wanted.

It hadn’t been until years later, working on a construction project in Venezuela, that he’d finally acknowledged that his frenetic thirst for escapades had been nothing more than an attempt to outrun his grief over the unexpected death of his mother when he was eighteen. He’d done the same thing after the miscarriage of their child and the end of their short marriage.

The realization had come between one hammer blow on a nail head and the next. He’d collapsed onto the ground so suddenly and completely, a fellow carpenter had come running, thinking he’d been injured.

But instead he’d taken the first step toward dealing with his grief for his mom, his child, and for the way he’d screwed up with Carly.

Now he was back. They had both moved on with their lives, but he felt he owed her something. An apology? The ones he’d offered years ago had never really plumbed the depths of his regret. Reparations, which he knew she’d never accept? A child? Impossible. He couldn’t turn back time.

Finally satisfied with the reptiles’ progress, Carly waved him toward the truck, snapping him out of his solemn reverie.

“Let’s go,” she commanded. “I’ve got a delivery to make.”

Luke grinned as he shook his head. “Then maybe you’d better put the tortoise rescues on hold. We’re still about twenty minutes from Toncaville, aren’t we?”

She answered with a stern look that made him laugh even more as she started the truck and pulled onto the highway once again. “Well, maybe we won’t see any more.”

“Maybe.”

They stopped three more times, but Luke jumped out while she was still rolling and moved the endangered tortoise out of the way. By the time they reached the Toncaville city limits, they had their routine down to about two minutes per stop.

“So, I’m guessing we’ll be doing the same thing on the way back home,” he said, watching her face.

“Absolutely.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Luke. I’ve hardly ever had help with this before, except when Lisa or Gemma is riding with me. Mostly, my garden helpers will assist in the rescues, but if they’re afraid of being seen by their friends, they’ll laugh at me and wait while I finish running back and forth across the highway.”

“You’re welcome. Say, I haven’t had lunch yet. How about you?”

“No. I was going to grab something here in town.”

“Why don’t you let me buy you lunch?” he asked as she pulled into the parking lot at the back of the restaurant where she was delivering her produce. “This looks like a good place.”

“It is.” She hesitated as she stepped out and walked to the back of the truck, where he joined her.

He knew it wasn’t a good idea and he was sure she knew it, too. Riding in the truck, talking about the passing scenery, hustling tortoises out of danger, was one thing. Sitting in a restaurant, eating a meal, seemed too...intimate, even though they had certainly shared meals before, including last night’s barbecue. Besides, although it was three o’clock in the afternoon and there wouldn’t be many customers in the place, it might seem like they were a couple—then he wondered if she actually cared about that. She seemed so completely sure of herself now. Maybe she wasn’t affected by gossip.

She smiled at him. “The chef, Beth Orwin, makes the best grilled trout in southeastern Oklahoma.”

“And we already know that she buys the best produce around.” He pulled back the cool, damp cloth and picked up a bin full of lettuce and other vegetables. He looked down at the fat, red radishes, bright orange carrots and cream-colored parsnips. “These are beautiful, you know.”

To his surprise, her cheeks flushed and she hitched up one shoulder in a slight shrug. “I always think of them as jewels uncovered in the earth. Silly, I know.”

“Not at all.”

“I guess we should try some of my vegetables,” she admitted. “I mean, quality control and all that.”

“Yes, we should.”

They unloaded the truck, took care of the paperwork and then walked around to the front entrance.

Luke marveled at how things had changed in twenty-four hours. Yesterday at about this time, he had been nervously pulling onto her property, worrying that she wouldn’t talk to him. He wouldn’t have blamed her if that had been the case, but he had known she would accept what Wendolin had left her. He only had to remember to keep this light and casual. They would eat lunch, run any errands she needed to take care of, then go back to unpack the trunk. He wasn’t sure why his grandmother had wanted him to be involved with this, but he was determined to follow her instructions. He owed it to her, but he also owed it to Carly to stay away from her. He already knew how much he could hurt her.

Luke gave her a regretful glance. His heart sank because he knew he was about to do it again.

* * *

THIS WASN’T AS easy as she’d thought it would be. In fact, it was much harder. They had eaten a late lunch then talked to Beth, the chef and owner of the restaurant, who praised the vegetables and ordered more. Carly had decided to forget the stop at her favorite junk store. Her usual routine of digging through their ratty stock wasn’t something she wanted to do while Luke tagged along. Besides, she wasn’t dressed for it, which she hadn’t really considered when she’d put on this fancy skirt. So, after they ate, they had returned to Joslin Gardens, the drive interrupted by three more stops to rescue tortoises.

Carly was able to control her edginess by focusing on returning home. She and Luke took the empty vegetable bins into the shed where Sheena would rinse them before they were used again. Once they were inside the house, they washed their hands then went to the living room, where the trunk awaited them. Luke slipped the letter out of his pocket and laid it on an end table within easy reach.

The lid wasn’t hinged, but separated completely from the body of the trunk. Luke set it aside, then came to sit by Carly on the sofa. The first item they removed was wrapped in yellowed tissue paper that Carly peeled back carefully to reveal satin and lace, also yellowed with age.

Luke ran a hand over the smooth fabric. “Is this...?”

“Wendolin’s wedding dress, I’ll bet,” Carly said, lifting it out reverently to unfold it. “She gave us her wedding dress.”

“I had no idea she still had it. I’ve never seen it before. I’m her only grandchild, so I guess it makes sense it would come to me.” Luke’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t think it will fit me, though.”

Carly rolled her eyes at him, refolded the dress and set it aside. Beneath it were textiles, finely woven tablecloths and napkins, some embroidered in bright colors, one set with exquisitely detailed cutwork embroidery.

“These are beautiful. Perfect, in fact,” Carly said. “Family heirlooms.”

“And they’re all yours, Carly. I would never use them.” He glanced around her living room then gestured toward the embroidered cloth covering an old table that had been one of her thrift-store discoveries. “And it’s obvious you would.”

“Thank you. I’ll treasure them.”

Carly found many other packets of letters and she was wildly curious to know what they said, but she couldn’t read German and they weren’t from her family, so she knew they weren’t her business. Instead, she reached for a cardboard tube about fourteen inches long. It was very heavy and had a cloth stuffed tightly into each end.

“I wonder what this is.”

“One way to find out,” Luke said, tugging the fabric at one end and pushing it at the other. “Here, hold on to the tube.”

As instructed, she gripped the tube with both hands while he worked to free the wrapped object. By wiggling and twisting it, he managed to pull it out. He handed it to Carly, who placed it on the sofa between them and began unwrapping the layers.

“This is silk,” she said at one point, rubbing the red, white and black cloth between her fingers.

“This is a flag,” Luke added, pointing out the grommets where it would be attached to a flagpole.

When Carly pulled away the last fold of silk, they discovered there was yet another layer of cotton batting, which they also lifted off.

“Oh, my goodness,” Carly breathed, staring at the bronze statue they had revealed. “It’s a little girl. Isn’t she beautiful?”

The figure was twelve inches high and depicted a child of about seven years old. One hand was held up in front of her face and a butterfly rested lightly on her palm. The wonder and delight on the little girl’s face was a joy to see.

Carly examined the base and bottom to locate the artist’s name but couldn’t read the faint markings. “Whoever did this was a master craftsman. The attention to detail is amazing. You can even see her eyelashes and the lunules on her fingernails. See?” She pointed out the half-moon shapes at the base of each nail. “And the hands are perfectly done, the mark of a talented artist.” She ran the tip of her calloused finger over the delicate hands. “Is it Wendolin as a little girl?”

Luke shrugged. “I think so, but I’m not sure. I have a few pictures of Omi when she was little, but they’re not very clear. Whoever the family photographer was, he felt obligated to stand at the top of the most distant hill to get everyone in the picture, so there are no close-ups of anyone’s face.” He held up the fabric that had been wrapped around the statue. “This is definitely a flag, pre–World War II German. I wonder why this was used.”

“Maybe they kept the flag because they were giving up their country but not their nationality. Seriously, Wendolin never talked to you about this?”

“Very little. I remember her saying she wasn’t brave, but I never knew what she meant by that.”

They both looked at the statue again and Carly ran her hand over the flag. “It’s possible, too, that if the statue is valuable, someone wanted to make sure it was wrapped in natural fabrics rather than synthetics...” She paused. “Although, now that I think about it, the 1930s weren’t exactly rife with nylon and, of course, polyester wasn’t created until 1941.”

Luke grinned and raised his eyebrows at her. “I wouldn’t know and I have to wonder how you do.”

She shrugged. “I must have read it somewhere and it stuck in my head.”

Carly ran her fingers over the figure, imagining they were touching soft hair, the fabric of a skirt, the gloss of shiny dress shoes. Although the little girl looked happy, enthralled by the tiny scrap of nature that had lit upon her fingers, the tableau made Carly sad. She glanced up and said as much to Luke.

“Why sad?” Luke asked.

“I’m not sure, except that it’s a moment frozen in time and...and Wendolin moved on from this beautiful moment and never recaptured it. Maybe it’s not so much sadness I’m feeling as it is melancholy or nostalgia.”

Luke frowned as he gave the statue a considering look. “Wait a minute, I do remember this. When I was small, it sat on a table in Omi’s living room. I wanted to play with it, but, of course, she didn’t want me to break it, so she must have put it away then never got it out again, at least, not where I could see it.”

Carly cradled it in her hands then looked up with tears spilling from her eyes. “I can’t accept this, Luke. It’s a family heirloom.”

“She wanted you to have it.”

Carly went to find a tissue and took several minutes to compose herself. When she returned to the living room, Luke had replaced everything in the trunk and put the lid on. The statue stood in the middle, a happy little girl, frozen in time.

“Thanks, Luke,” she said through trembling lips. “I’ll always treasure it.”

“I know.”

Luke reached into his pocket and took out his keys.

Carly felt an unexpected surge of relief. Although she’d been anxious since Luke’s arrival, she had tamped down the strongest feelings of regret, sorrow and angry betrayal. She had thought those feelings had been conquered long ago, but she’d been wrong. Now he was leaving and she wouldn’t see him again. The emotions he’d stirred up could be laid to rest for good.

Deep in her own thoughts, she barely noticed that Luke hadn’t moved toward the door. When she did, she gave him a questioning look. “Is there something else?”

He tilted his head and glanced away from her then back. He rocked slightly on his heels.

“Luke...?”

“There’s something else I need to tell you, Carly.”

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