Dearest Friends,

I hope you enjoy this final journey to Buffalo Valley. As always, I found it difficult to set these characters and their community aside. Buffalo Valley will always remain a part of me because Dakota towns like this are part of my heritage.

Writing these four books has blessed me in a number of ways. Through my initial research trips, and later, when promoting the titles, I was privileged to meet some wonderful, down-home folks I’d consider it an honor to call friends. People like Erik Sakariassen and everyone at SAKS NEWS, and Matt Olien and the good people at Prairie Public Broadcasting station who generously gave me Schmeckfest , a video about the food traditions of Germans from Russia. We might not be able to correctly pronounce what we’re eating, but it sure tastes good! The bookstores where I signed the trilogy books were terrific. MAXWELL’S BOOKS in Bismarck stayed open for me in the middle of a fierce windstorm; A NOVEL PLACE in Osseo, Minnesota, hosted one of the best signings I’ve ever done; the WALDENBOOKS in the Southridge Mall in Greendale, Wisconsin, attracted an enthusiastic crowd. Thank you, one and all.

A special bonus was becoming reacquainted with aunts, uncles and cousins. Aunt Gladys, you’re a kick—and you’re right, I haven’t started decorating those eggs yet. Hey, my intentions are good! To Lettie and Gary, you promised to visit Wayne and me in Seattle and we’re counting on it. To my cousin Paula and her husband, Mike—Wayne and I enjoyed the tour of your farm, including the directions on how to find you. (Was that the third dip in the road past the mile marker, or the second?)

To Aunt Betty and Uncle Vern, I love you both to death. I’m so blessed to have you in my life. Thank you for the incredible gift of laughter and the example of your love. (My aunt Betty and uncle Vern have been married over seventy years, and when I mentioned how wonderful that was, my aunt said, “In all those years Vern has been tried and true.” My uncle Vern, who’s hard of hearing, replied with a snort, “Well, I’m tired of you, too!” See what I mean about the laughter?)

These books have been an adventure: the research, the writing, the touring and the good friends I’ve made along the way. I hope you’ll enjoy one last trip to Buffalo Valley.

Warmest regards,

Buffalo Valley
Debbie Macomber

To

my mom and dad,

Ted and Connie Adler.

Boy, did I get lucky to have you for my parents!

I love you both.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 1

S o this was North Dakota. Gazing steadily ahead, Vaughn Kyle barreled down the freeway just outside Grand Forks. Within a few miles, the four lanes had narrowed to two. Dreary, dirt-smudged snow lay piled up along both sides of the highway. Fresh snow had begun to fall, pristine and bright, glinting in the late-afternoon sun.

His parents had retired earlier in the year, leaving Denver, where Vaughn had been born and raised, and returning to the state they’d left long ago. They’d moved north, away from the majestic peaks of the Rocky Mountains to the endlessly boring landscape of the Dakotas. This was supposed to be beautiful? Maybe in summer, he mused, when the fields of grain rippled with the wind, acre after acre. Now, though, in December, in the dead of winter, the beauty of this place escaped him. All that was visible was a winding stretch of black asphalt cutting through flat, monotonous terrain that stretched for miles in every direction.

After seven years as an Airborne Ranger in the U.S. Army’s Second Battalion based in Fort Lewis, Washington, Vaughn was poised to begin the second stage of his working life. He had his discharge papers and he’d recently been hired by Value-X, a mega-retailer with headquarters in Seattle. Value-X was one of America’s most notable success stories. New stores were opening every day all across the United States and Canada.

His course was set for the future, thanks largely to Natalie Nichols. They’d met two years earlier through mutual friends. Natalie was smart, savvy and ambitious; Value-X had recognized her skills and she’d advanced quickly, being promoted to a vice presidency before the age of thirty.

Vaughn had been attracted by her dedication and purpose, and he’d admired her ambition. His own work ethic was strong; as he’d come to realize, that was increasingly rare in this age of quick fixes and no-fault living. Natalie was the one who’d convinced him to leave the army. He was ready. When he’d enlisted after finishing college, he’d done so intending to make the military his career. In the seven years since, he’d learned the advantages and drawbacks of soldiering.

He didn’t mind the regimented life, but the career possibilities weren’t all he’d hoped they would be. What he lacked, as Natalie had pointed out, was opportunity. He was limited in how far he could rise through the ranks or how quickly, while the private sector was wide-open and looking for promising employees like him. He’d been interviewed by three headhunters who recruited candidates for a variety of corporations and in just a few weeks had six job offers.

At first he’d felt there might be a conflict of interest, taking a position with the same company as Natalie. However, she didn’t view it that way; they would be a team, she’d told Vaughn, and with that remarkable persuasive skill of hers had convinced him to come on board. He wouldn’t officially start until after the first of the year, but he was already on assignment.

Value-X was buying property in Buffalo Valley, North Dakota. Since Vaughn was going to be in the vicinity, visiting his parents in nearby Grand Forks, Natalie had asked him to pay the town a visit. It wasn’t uncommon for a community to put up token resistance to the company’s arrival. In most cases, any negative publicity was successfully handled, using a proven strategy that included barraging the local media with stories showing the company’s “human face.” After a recent public-relations disaster in Montana, Natalie was eager to avoid a repeat. She’d asked Vaughn to do a “climate check” in Buffalo Valley, but it was important, she insisted, that he not let anyone know he was now a Value-X employee, not even his parents. Vaughn had reluctantly agreed.

He’d done this because he trusted Natalie’s judgment. And because he was in love with her. They’d talked about marriage, although she seemed hesitant. Her reasons for postponing it were logical, presented in her usual no-nonsense manner. She refused to be “subservient to emotion,” as she called it, and Vaughn was impressed by her clear-cut vision of what she wanted and how to achieve it. They’d get married when the time was right for both of them.

He was eager to have her meet his family. Natalie would be joining him on December twenty-seventh, but he wished she could’ve rearranged her schedule to travel with him.

On this cold Friday afternoon two weeks before Christmas, Vaughn had decided to drive into Buffalo Valley. Because of Hassie Knight, he didn’t need to invent an excuse for his parents. Hassie was the mother of his namesake. She’d lost her only son—his parents’ closest friend—in Vietnam three years before Vaughn was born. Every birthday, until he’d reached the age of twenty-one, Hassie had mailed him a letter with a twenty-five-dollar U.S. Savings Bond.

In all that time, he’d never met her. From first grade on, he’d dutifully sent her a thank-you note for every gift. That was the extent of their contact, but he still felt a genuine fondness for her—and gratitude. Hassie had been the one to start him on a savings program. As a young adult Vaughn had cashed in those savings bonds and begun acquiring a portfolio of stocks that over the years had become a hefty nest egg.

An hour after he left Grand Forks, Vaughn slowed his speed, certain that if he blinked he might miss Buffalo Valley entirely. Value-X could put this place on the map. That was one benefit the company offered small towns. He wasn’t sure what kind of business community existed in Buffalo Valley. He knew about Knight’s Pharmacy of course, because Hassie owned that. Apparently the town was large enough to have its own cemetery, too; Hassie had mailed him a picture of her son’s gravesite years earlier.

Buffalo Valley was directly off the road. You didn’t take an exit the way you would in most places. You just drove off the highway. He slowed, made a right turn where the road sign indicated. The car pitched as it left the pavement and hit ruts in the frozen dirt road. He’d gone at least a hundred feet before the paved road resumed.

He passed a few scattered houses, and as he turned the corner, he discovered, somewhat to his surprise, a main street with businesses lining both sides. There was even a hotel of sorts, called Buffalo Bob’s 3 of a Kind. The bank building, a sprawling brick structure, seemed new and quite extensive. This was amazing. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but nothing like this. Buffalo Valley was a real town, not a cluster of run-down houses and boarded-up stores, like some of the prairie towns his parents had told him about.

Hassie’s store caught his attention next. It was a quaint, old-fashioned pharmacy, with big picture windows and large white lettering. Christmas lights framed the window, flashing alternately red and green. In smaller letters below KNIGHT’S PHARMACY, a soda fountain was advertised. Vaughn hadn’t tasted a real soda made with hand-scooped ice cream and flavored syrup since his childhood.

He parked, climbed out of his rental car and stood on the sidewalk, glancing around. This was a decent-size town, decorated for the holidays with festive displays in nearly every window. A city park could be seen in the distance, and the Buffalo Valley Quilting Company appeared to take up a large portion of the block across the street. He remembered an article about it in the file Natalie had given him.

The cold stung his face and snow swirled around him. Rather than stand there risking frostbite, Vaughn walked into the pharmacy. The bell above the door jingled and he was instantly greeted by a blast of heat that chased the chill from his bones.

“Can I help you?” He couldn’t see who spoke, but the voice sounded young, so he assumed it wasn’t Hassie. The woman or girl, whoever she was, stood behind the raised counter at the back of the store.

“I’m looking for Hassie Knight,” Vaughn called, edging his way down the narrow aisle. This pharmacy apparently carried everything: cosmetics, greeting cards, over-the-counter medicine, gourmet chocolate, toothpaste and tissues—just about anything you might require.

“I’m sorry, Hassie’s out for the day. Can I be of help?”

He supposed he didn’t need to see Hassie, although it would have been nice.

“I’m Carrie Hendrickson.” A petite blonde in a white jacket materialized before him, hand extended. “I’m an intern working with Hassie.”

“Vaughn Kyle,” he said, stretching out his own hand. He liked the way her eyes squarely met his. Her expression held a hint of suspicion, but Vaughn was prepared for that. Natalie had mentioned the North Dakota attitude toward strangers—a wariness that ranged from mild doubt to outright hostility. It was one reason she worried about this proposed building site.

“Hassie and I have never officially met, but she does know me,” he added reassuringly. “I was named after her son.”

“You’re the Vaughn Kyle?” she asked, her voice revealing excitement now. “Did Hassie know you were coming and completely forget? I can’t imagine her doing that.”

“No, no, it was nothing like that. I just happened to be in the area and thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.”

Her suspicion evaporated and was replaced with a wide, welcoming smile. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Hassie will be thrilled.” She gestured to the counter. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? A soft drink?”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind an old-fashioned soda.”

“They’re Hassie’s specialty, but I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t worry about it.” On second thought, he decided something warm might be preferable. “I’ll have a coffee.”

She led him to the soda fountain and Vaughn sat on a padded stool while Carrie ducked beneath the counter and reappeared on the other side.

“Do you know when Hassie’s due back?” he asked.

“Around six,” Carrie told him, lifting the glass pot and filling his cup. “You need space for cream?” she asked.

He answered with a quick shake of his head. She didn’t cut off the steady stream of weak coffee until it’d reached the very brim of his cup.

The door opened, bells jingling, and a woman dressed in a black leather jacket walked into the store. She had three scarves wrapped around her neck, nearly obscuring her face.

“Hi, Merrily,” Carrie called, then scrambled under the fountain barrier. “I’ll have Bobby’s prescription ready in just a moment.” She hurried to the back of the store. “While you’re waiting, introduce yourself to Vaughn Kyle.”

Merrily glanced toward the counter and waved, and Vaughn raised his mug to her.

“That’s Hassie’s Vaughn Kyle,” Carrie said emphatically. “Vaughn was named after her son,” she added.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Merrily walked over to shake his hand. “What are you doing here?” she asked, unwinding the woolen scarves.

Now, that was an interesting question, Vaughn thought. He certainly hadn’t anticipated anyone knowing about him.

“He came to meet Hassie,” Carrie said as she returned with the prescription. She handed Merrily a small white sack. “How’s Bobby feeling?”

“Better, I think. Poor little guy seems prone to ear infections.” She turned to Vaughn with a smile. “Nice meeting you,” she said. She wrapped the mufflers around her face again before she headed out the door.

“You, too,” Vaughn murmered.

Carrie reached across the counter and grabbed a second mug for herself. “Hassie told you about the War Memorial, didn’t she? We’re all proud of that.” Not waiting for a response, she continued, “The town built the Memorial three years ago, and it honors everyone from Buffalo Valley who died in war. The only one most of us actually remember is Hassie’s son. But there were others. We lost Harvey Schmidt in the Korean War and five men in World War II, but none of their families live in the area anymore.”

“You knew Vaughn Knight?” The blonde seemed far too young to have known Hassie’s son.

“Not personally. But from the time I was small, Hassie told my brothers and me about Vaughn. It’s been her mission to make sure he isn’t forgotten.”

Vaughn had heard about Vaughn Knight from his own parents of course, since they’d both been close to Hassie’s son.

Carrie sipped her coffee. “Hassie told me it was one of the greatest honors of her life that your parents chose to remember her son through you.”

Vaughn nodded, disappointed that he’d missed meeting the older woman. “What time did you say Hassie would be back?”

“Around six, I guess.”

Vaughn checked his watch. He didn’t intend to make an entire day of this.

“If Hassie had known you were coming, I don’t think anything could’ve kept her away.”

“I should have phoned beforehand,” he muttered. “But…”

“I hope you’ll wait.”

Vaughn glanced at his watch again. Three hours was far longer than he wanted to stick around. “Tell her I’ll come by some other time.”

“Please stay. Hassie would feel terrible if she learned you’d left without meeting her.” She hesitated, obviously thinking. “Listen,” she said, “I’ll phone Leta Betts and ask if she can fill in for me for a couple of hours.”

Vaughn reconsidered. He might get all the information he needed from Carrie; then he could meet Hassie on strictly social terms. He’d been vaguely uncomfortable about questioning Hassie, anyway.

“Please,” she said, “it would mean the world to Hassie, and I’d be delighted to give you a tour of town.”

Perfect. He’d learn everything Natalie wanted to know and more. “That’s a generous offer. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’d consider it a pleasure,” she said, and smiled.

With her looking up at him that way, smiling and appreciative, Vaughn couldn’t help noticing that Carrie Hendrickson was a very attractive woman. Not that Natalie had anything to worry about, he told himself staunchly.

Working closely with Hassie as an intern pharmacist, Carrie Hendrickson was keenly aware of how eager the older woman was to meet her son’s namesake. A few months ago, Hassie had heard that the Kyles had retired in Grand Forks and she’d mailed off a note, inviting them to visit Buffalo Valley. Apparently they planned to do that sometime in the new year. Hassie would be ecstatic about finally meeting their son.

Carrie loved Hassie Knight, who was her mentor and her friend. Following Carrie’s divorce, Hassie had given her sympathy—and good, brisk, commonsense advice. She’d guided her through the fog of her pain and encouraged her to look toward the future. Many an afternoon they’d spent talking, reminiscing, sitting quietly together. Hassie had shared the grief of her own losses and helped Carrie deal with Alec’s betrayal in ways her own mother never could. Hassie was the person who’d suggested she return to college. Carrie had taken her advice; nearly six years ago she’d enrolled at the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks. Now she was about to finish her internship with Knight’s Pharmacy and achieve her Pharm.D and become a Doctor of Pharmacy. The last few years had been bleak financially, but the reward would be worth all the sacrifices.

After her divorce, she’d moved back in with her parents. She felt deeply grateful for their generosity but she was twenty-seven years old and longed for more independence and a home of her own. Well, it would happen eventually; she’d just have to wait.

Meanwhile, working side by side with Hassie, Carrie had learned a great deal. When it came time for the older woman to retire, Carrie would be willing and able to assume her role in the pharmacy and in the town. People knew and trusted her. Already they approached her with their troubles and concerns as naturally as they did Hassie. Alec’s infidelity had reinforced the importance of trust and honor for Carrie. Those were precepts she lived by. The people of Buffalo Valley knew she would keep their problems to herself.

The town was a success story in an area where there’d been few. The Hendrickson farm, like many others, had fallen victim to low crop prices. Unable to make a living farming the land that had supported them for three generations, her father had leased the acreage to his older sons and moved into town. Together with Carrie’s two younger brothers, he’d opened a hardware store.

For as long as she could remember, Knight’s Pharmacy had been the very heart of this town. Hassie was getting on in years and probably should’ve retired long ago. She wouldn’t, though, not while the community still needed her, not only to dispense prescriptions and basic medical advice but also to be their counselor and confidante.

Carrie knew she could never replace Hassie, because that would be impossible. But she’d always been good at chemistry and math, and had done well at her pharmaceutical studies. She also cared about the town and had an intense interest in people. Hassie had often told her she was naturally intuitive and sensitive toward others; Carrie was pleased by that, although her intuition had been notably absent during her ex-husband’s affair. Hassie said she was exactly the pharmacist Buffalo Valley needed and had given her the faith in herself to believe she could complete the six years of schooling required to obtain her license.

“I’ll get my coat and hat and be right back,” she told Vaughn after calling Leta. Hassie’s friend worked at the pharmacy part-time and was as eager as Carrie to make sure that Hassie met Vaughn.

“You’re certain this isn’t an imposition?”

“Absolutely certain,” she told him.

Leta arrived promptly and after making swift introductions, Carrie removed the white pharmacist’s jacket and put on her long wool coat.

“What would you like to see first?” she asked when she rejoined him.

“Whatever you’d like to show me.”

“Then let’s go to the City Park.” Although there were a number of places she wanted to take him, the park seemed the best place to start. As they left the pharmacy, Carrie noticed it had stopped snowing, but she suspected the temperature had dropped several degrees. She led him across the street and then down a block, past the quilt store and several others.

“I know Hassie would want you to see the War Memorial,” she said, glancing up at Vaughn. Now that she stood beside him, she was surprised to see how tall he was—possibly six-two. All four of her brothers were six feet, but Carrie took after her mother’s side of the family and was small-boned and petite. His dark good looks didn’t escape her notice, either.

“First came the park,” she explained, walking briskly to ward off the cold. Carrie loved the City Park and everything it said about their community. The people of Buffalo Valley had worked together to make this barren plot of land a place of which to be proud. “The land itself was a gift from Lily Quantrill,” she said. “Heath Quantrill, her grandson, is the president of Buffalo Valley Bank.” She pointed toward the brick structure at the far end of Main Street.

“Isn’t there a branch in Grand Forks?”

“There are branches all across the state,” Carrie told him.

“The headquarters is here?”

She nodded. “Heath moved everything to Buffalo Valley two years ago. I know it was a hard decision, but this is his home now, and he was tired of commuting to Grand Forks three days a week.”

“It’s an impressive building.”

“Heath’s an impressive bank president. I hope you get the chance to meet him and his wife, Rachel.”

“I do, too,” Vaughn said.

“Heath donated the lumber for the children’s play equipment,” she said as they entered the park and strolled past the jungle gym, slides and swings. “But Brandon Wyatt, along with Jeb McKenna and Gage Sinclair, actually built all these things.” She realized the names didn’t mean anything to Vaughn, but she wanted him to get a sense of what the park stood for in this community. Each family had contributed something, from planting the grass to laying the concrete walkway.

“It looks well used.”

An outsider like Vaughn couldn’t possibly understand how much the children of Buffalo Valley cherished the park. “My family owns the hardware,” she continued, pointing to the opposite side of the park toward the store. “We donated the wood for the picnic tables.”

“I notice they aren’t secured with chains,” Vaughn said.

“We don’t have much crime in Buffalo Valley.” It distressed her to visit public areas where everything, including picnic tables and garbage cans, was tied down by chains to prevent theft. But no one had ever stolen from the park or any other public place in Buffalo Valley. There’d never been any real vandalism, either.

“No crime?” He sounded as though he didn’t believe her.

“Well, some, but it’s mostly petty stuff. A few windows soaped at Halloween, that kind of thing. The occasional fight or display of drunkenness. We did have a murder once, about eighty years ago. According to the stories, it was a crime of passion.” Quickly changing the subject, she said, “The War Memorial was designed by Kevin Betts. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him, but he was born and raised right here.”

“Sorry, I haven’t,” Vaughn said with a shrug.

“He’s Leta’s son, and he’s an artist who’s making a name for himself.” Everyone in town was proud of Kevin. “This sculpture—” she gestured as they neared it “—was one of his very first.” She watched Vaughn’s expression when he saw it and was stirred by the immediate appreciation that showed in his eyes.

Kevin was a gifted artist, not only because he was technically skilled but because his work evoked emotion in people. The bronze sculpture was simple and yet profound. Half-a-dozen rifles were stacked together, upright and leaning against one another, with a helmet balanced on top. Beside the guns a young soldier knelt, his shoulders bowed in grief. No one seeing the piece could fail to be moved, to respond with sorrow and a bittersweet pain.

Vaughn stood before the memorial and didn’t say anything right away. Then he squatted down and ran his finger over the name of Vaughn Knight. “My parents still talk about him. He was the one who brought them together,” Vaughn said, and slowly straightened. “I’m glad he won’t be forgotten.”

“He won’t be,” Carrie assured him. “With this memorial, his name will always be here to remind everyone.”

Vaughn thrust his gloved hands into his coat pockets.

“Cold?” Carrie asked.

He shook his head. “I know about the pharmacy and you’ve mentioned the hardware store. Tell me about the other businesses in town.”

They walked toward Main Street and Carrie told him about each one in turn, starting with Joanie Wyatt’s video-rental and craft store and ending with her parents’ place.

“It was a leap of faith for you to move into town, wasn’t it?” Vaughn said.

Carrie nodded pensively. “Yeah, but it’s paid off. My two oldest brothers are still farming and the two younger ones work exclusively with Mom and Dad. It’s a good arrangement all around.”

“Are you hungry?” Vaughn asked unexpectedly.

She laughed. “You offering to feed me?” It was a bit early, but dinner would pass the time until Hassie returned.

“Unless there’s a reason for you to hurry home.”

“No reason. I’m divorced.” Even now, six years later, the words left a bitter taste on her tongue. She focused her gaze directly in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am, too.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice, as if to say she was over it.

“I thought I’d suggest Buffalo Bob’s 3 of a Kind. I was intrigued by what you told me about him.”

“He’s certainly a character,” she agreed. “But before we go there, I’d like to show you Maddy’s Grocery.” Carrie loved the wonderful and witty Christmas display Maddy put up every year. Eight reindeer were suspended from the ceiling, with the front half of Santa’s sleigh coming out of the wall.

Vaughn laughed when he saw it. His reaction was one of genuine enjoyment and not the short derisive laugh of someone mocking Maddy’s efforts. On their way to 3 of a Kind, they strolled past the Buffalo Valley Quilting Company.

“This is the success story of the decade,” Carrie boasted as she motioned to the holiday quilt displayed in the first set of windows. “Sarah Urlacher started the business in her father’s house, dyeing the muslin herself from all-natural products. The designs are her own, too.”

Vaughn stopped to look at the quilt in the window.

“It all began when Lindsay Sinclair introduced Sarah’s quilts to her uncle. He owns an upscale furniture store in Atlanta, and before she knew it, Sarah had trouble keeping up with the demand. Now people all over the country buy her quilts.”

“That’s great.”

“Sarah’s business has boosted the economy of Buffalo Valley to the point that we can now afford things that are commonplace in other towns.”

“Such as?”

“The sidewalks got refurbished last summer, and the town could never have paid for that without the tax revenue Sarah’s business brings in.” Carrie didn’t mention the new community well and several other improvements that had taken place over the past few years.

“I’ll let Leta know where we are so she can tell Hassie,” Carrie said, and made a quick stop at the pharmacy. She was back within moments. Vaughn waited for her outside.

There was no one at the restaurant or in the bar when they arrived. Studying Buffalo Bob with fresh eyes, Carrie could only guess what Vaughn must think. The ex-biker was a burly man. He was an oddity here in a town where most men came off the farm. With his thinning hair drawn back into a ponytail and his muscular arms covered in tattoos, he looked as though he’d be more comfortable with a biker gang than waiting tables.

“How ya doin’, Carrie?” he greeted her when she took a seat across the table from Vaughn.

“Good, Bob. Come meet Vaughn Kyle.”

“Welcome to Buffalo Valley,” Bob said, extending his hand for a hearty shake. “Merrily told me you’d dropped by.” Bob gave them each a menu. “Take a look, but the special tonight is Salisbury steak. I don’t mind telling you it’s excellent.” He grinned. “And who would know better than me?”

“I’m convinced,” Vaughn told him with an answering smile. “I’ll have the special.”

“Me, too,” Carrie said, returning the menu.

Bob left them, and Carrie tried to relax but found it difficult. She hadn’t been alone with a man, other than her brothers, in a very long time. Following her divorce, she’d only dated twice, and both occasions had been awkward. Her schooling, plus her internship, didn’t leave much room for a social life, anyway.

Vaughn sat back in his chair. “Tell me about Hassie,” he suggested easily.

Carrie felt the tightness leave her shoulders. On the subject of Hassie, she could talk his ear off. “What would you like to know first?”

“Whatever you feel is important.”

“She’s been my hero for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what would’ve happened to this town without her.” Carrie wanted him to realize how deeply Hassie was loved by everyone in Buffalo Valley. “She’s older now, and she’s slowing down some.” Carrie had seen the evidence of that in the months since she’d come to work as an intern. She almost suspected that Hassie had been holding on until she got there.

Vaughn glanced at Buffalo Bob as he brought their salads and nodded his thanks. “Every year, along with my birthday card and a U.S. Savings Bond, she wrote me a short message.” His mouth lifted in a half smile. “She called it words to live by .”

“Give me an example,” Carrie said, curious.

“I don’t remember them all, but…okay, she told me about the importance of being on time. Only, she did it by making up this little poem….” He hesitated and a slow grin crossed his face. “She once wrote that if at first I don’t succeed, it just means I’m normal.”

“That sounds like Hassie.”

“She has a wonderful way of putting things.” He paused, a reflective look on his face. “When I was sixteen, she told me the grass isn’t greener on the other side of the fence, it’s greener where it’s watered.”

“I think it’s wonderful that you remembered them.”

“How could I not, when she made them so much fun? She was like an extra grandmother.”

Hearing that warmed Carrie’s heart, because she knew Hassie felt toward him the way she would a grandson.

They were silent as they ate their salads. Buffalo Bob had made even a plain lettuce, cucumber and tomato salad taste delicious with the addition of a tart-sweet cranberry dressing. They were just finishing when Bob reappeared, carrying two plates heaped with food. He placed them in front of Vaughn and Carrie, then stepped back, and said, “Enjoy.”

Vaughn stared after him as he returned to the kitchen. “He’s not the typical sort of person you find in a place like this, is he?”

“Bob’s a sweetheart,” she said defensively. “He’s hardworking and well-liked and a wonderful father and—”

“Tell me how he happened to land in Buffalo Valley,” Vaughn broke in. He reached for his fork, tasting the fluffy mashed potatoes and tender gravy-covered steak.

“He came here when the town was at its lowest point. My uncle Earl owned this hotel and he’d been trying to sell it for years. Seeing that there weren’t any buyers and he was losing money every month, my uncle devised an unusual poker game. It cost a thousand dollars to play, but the winner walked away with the hotel, restaurant and bar. Lock, stock and barrel.”

Vaughn’s brows arched. “And Bob won it with three of a kind.”

“Exactly.”

Vaughn shook his head. “More power to him.”

“A lot has changed since then, all of it for the better. Bob married Merrily, and two and a half years ago, they had little Bobby.”

“The one who’s prone to ear infections?”

She nodded. “You’ve never seen better parents. Those two dote on that little boy something fierce. In fact, Bob and Merrily are terrific with all the kids in town.” Carrie paused long enough to sample her dinner. “Hey, this is terrific.”

Vaughn agreed with her. “In addition to his other talents, Buffalo Bob’s a good cook. He wasn’t kidding about that.”

“I don’t know what his life was like before he came to Buffalo Valley, but he’s one of us now.”

Vaughn was about to ask a question when the door opened and Hassie hurried inside.

Carrie was instantly on her feet. One look told her Hassie was exhausted. Her shoulders were slumped and she seemed close to collapse.

“Hassie,” Carrie said, wrapping her arm protectively around the older woman’s waist. “This is Vaughn Kyle.”

It was almost as if Hassie didn’t hear her at first. “Vaughn,” she repeated, and then her face brightened visibly. “My goodness, did you let me know you were coming and it slipped my mind?”

Vaughn pulled out a chair for her to sit down. “No, I very rudely showed up without an invitation.”

“I wish I’d known.”

“It’s no problem. Carrie was kind enough to spend the afternoon with me.”

“Let me take a good look at you,” Hassie said. She cupped his face with both hands and a smile emerged. “You’re so handsome,” she whispered. “You have such kind eyes.”

If her praise embarrassed or flustered him, Vaughn didn’t reveal it.

“How long can you stay?” she asked.

“Actually, I should probably think about heading back to Grand Forks soon.”

“No,” Hassie protested. “That’s hardly enough time for me to show you everything.”

“Carrie already gave me a tour of town.”

“That’s good, but I have a number of things I’ve saved that I’d like you to have—things that were my son’s.”

Her disappointment was unmistakeable, and Carrie glanced at Vaughn, trying to signal him, hoping he’d change his mind.

“I want to see them.”

Carrie could have hugged him right then and there.

“But,” he added, “you’ve had a long, tiring day. Perhaps it would be better if I came back later.”

Hassie didn’t bother to deny what was obvious. “Would it be too much to ask you to come here on Sunday?” Both her hands gripped his, as if she was afraid to let him go.

Carrie found herself just as eager to hear his response.

“I’ll meet you at the store shortly after noon,” he said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you then.”

Carrie felt a surge of relief—and anticipation. She couldn’t help smiling, first at Hassie, then at Vaughn.

Happiness shimmered in the old woman’s eyes as she placed one hand on Carrie’s shoulder and leaned heavily against her.

“That would be perfect,” she said quietly. “Thank you, Vaughn.”

Chapter 2

H assie felt old and weary, especially after a day like this. But God had rewarded her patience by sending Vaughn Kyle to Buffalo Valley. Seeing him, however briefly, had lifted her spirits. Best of all was his promise to return on Sunday afternoon.

Tired though she was, Hassie brewed herself a cup of tea and sat at her kitchen table, mulling over the events of the day. Ambrose Kohn had been a thorn in her side for many years. His family had lived and worked in town for generations, but with impeccable timing, the Kohns had moved to Devils Lake just before the economy in Buffalo Valley collapsed.

Ambrose owned several pieces of property here and a building or two. The theater belonged to him, and he’d been quick enough to close it down, despite the town council’s efforts to convince him otherwise. The old building still had plenty of life in it, but it’d sat abandoned and neglected until the first year Lindsay Snyder came to Buffalo Valley as the high-school teacher. She’d wanted to use it for a Christmas play. If Hassie remembered correctly, Ambrose had demanded she go out with him first before he gave permission. That annoyed Hassie even now, several years later.

Lindsay had attended some social function with Ambrose, and it had nearly ruined her relationship with Gage Sinclair. But she and Gage had resolved their differences.They’d been married for more than five years now and were parents of two beautiful daughters.

Ambrose, despite his underhanded methods, had walked away a winner, as well. After the community had cleaned up that old theater and put on the high-school Christmas program, he’d reopened the movie house and it’d been in operation ever since.

Unfortunately Ambrose hadn’t learned anything from that experience. He hadn’t learned that people in Buffalo Valley loved their town and that they supported one another. He hadn’t figured out that for them, Buffalo Valley was home , not just a place to live. Now the middle-aged bachelor held the fate of the community in his hands. Value-X, a huge retailer, wanted to move into town and they wanted to set up shop on land owned by Ambrose. The company had a reputation for sweeping into small towns and then systematically destroying independent and family-owned businesses. Six months earlier, Hassie had watched a television report on the effect the mega-retailer had on communities. At the time she’d never dreamed Buffalo Valley might be targeted. Naturally the company insisted this was progress and a boon to the town’s economy. There were already articles in some of the regional papers, touting the company’s supposedly civic-minded attitudes. Profit-minded was more like it.

No one needed to tell Hassie what would happen to Buffalo Valley if Value-X decided to follow through with its plans. All the small businesses that had recently started would die a fast and painful death. Her own pharmacy wouldn’t be immune.

Ambrose owned twenty acres just outside of town; this was the property Value-X was interested in acquiring, and he wasn’t opposed to selling it—no matter how badly it damaged the community.

Nothing Hassie said had the least bit of impact on him. Buffalo Bob, as president of the town council, had tried to reason with him, too, again without success. Heath Quantrill had thrown up his hands in frustration at the man’s stubborn refusal to listen.

While Ambrose didn’t live in Buffalo Valley, he did have a powerful influence on its future. For that reason alone, he should think carefully about his decision to sell that parcel of land. Progress or not, it wasn’t the kind of future she or anyone here saw for Buffalo Valley. Jerry, her husband, might have been able to talk sense into Ambrose, but Jerry had died the year after Vaughn. She’d lost them both so close together.

The TV report on Value-X had made a strong impression on Hassie. What had stayed in her mind most clearly were the interviews with business owners, some with three- and four-generation histories. They’d been forced to close down, unable to compete. Local traditions had been lost, pride broken. Men and women wept openly, in despair and hopelessness. Downtown areas died out.

Hassie couldn’t bear to think what would happen to Buffalo Valley if Ambrose sold that land to those outsiders. Why, it would undo all the work the town council had done over the past six years. The outcome was too dismal to consider.

Joanie Wyatt’s video-rental and craft store would probably be one of the first to fold. And the Hendricksons—they’d sunk everything they had in this world and more into AceMan Hardware. Value-X would undercut the lowest prices they could charge and ring the store’s death knell for sure.

Dennis Urlacher supplied car parts to the community at his filling station. Although that was only a small portion of his business, Dennis had once mentioned that his largest profit margin came from the auto parts and not the fuel. It wouldn’t be long before his business was affected, too. Even Rachel Quantrill’s new hamburger stand would lose customers. Maddy’s Grocery would suffer, too; how long she’d be able to hold on depended on Value-X’s plans. It was said that many of the newer stores included groceries.

None of that concerned Ambrose. All he knew was that he’d been offered a fair price for a piece of land that had sat vacant for years. He’d let it be known that he fully intended to sell those acres. If anyone else was interested, he’d entertain other offers. Ambrose had made one thing perfectly clear: the offer had to be substantially higher than the deal Value-X had proposed. No one in town, not even Heath Quantrill, had a thick-enough bankroll to get into a bidding war with the huge retailer.

Hassie sipped her tea and purposely turned her thoughts in a more pleasant direction. What a fine-looking young man Vaughn Kyle was. After all these years, she was grateful to finally meet him. His letters had meant so much to her, and she’d saved each thank-you note from the time he was six years old.

For a short while after her son was buried, Hassie and Barbara, the boy’s mother, had been close. They’d stayed in touch, but then a year later the wedding announcement arrived. Barbara, the beautiful young woman her son had loved, was marrying Rick Kyle, who’d been one of Vaughn’s best friends.

Hassie didn’t begrudge the couple happiness, but she hadn’t attended the wedding. Their marriage was a painful reminder that life continues. If circumstances had been different, this might have been her own son’s wedding.

Two years later, Rick and Barbara had mailed her the birth announcement. They’d named their first child after Hassie’s son. Two years later came another birth announcement, this time for a girl they named Gloria. Sight unseen, Hassie had loved that boy and thought of him as the grandson Vaughn could never give her. Her own daughter, Valerie, had two girls and Hassie adored them, but since Val and her family lived in Hawaii, there was little opportunity to see them. Vaughn Kyle had assumed a special significance for her. Neither his parents nor anyone else knew how deep her feelings ran. With a determined effort, she’d remained on the sidelines of his life, writing occasional letters and sending gifts at the appropriate times.

Now she would have the opportunity to give Vaughn the things she’d set aside for him so many years ago. It’d been her prayer that they meet before she died.

She had to stop herself from being greedy. She would gladly accept whatever time Vaughn Kyle was willing to grant her.

Carrie found herself smiling as she walked into the family home shortly after six. She paused in the entry way to remove the handknit scarf from around her neck and shrug out of her coat. Softly humming a Christmas tune, she savored the warm feelings left by her visit with Vaughn. She’d enjoyed getting to know him. Even though it’d been years since she’d spent this much time in a man’s company, the initial awkwardness between them had dissipated quickly.

Vaughn seemed genuinely interested in learning what he could about Hassie and Buffalo Valley. What she appreciated most was that he hadn’t asked any prying questions about her divorce. A lot of people assumed she wanted to tell her side of it, but Carrie found no joy in reliving the most painful, humiliating experience of her life.

Their dinner conversation had flowed smoothly. He was easy to talk to, and Carrie loved telling him about Buffalo Valley. She was proud to recount its history, especially the developments of the past five years. The improvements could be attributed to several factors, but almost all of them went right back to Hassie Knight and her determination and optimism. Hassie refused to let the town fade into nothingness, refused to let it die like countless other communities throughout the Dakotas.

When Carrie walked into the living room, her mother glanced up from her needlework and her two younger brothers hurried in from the kitchen. All three fixed their eyes on her. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to speak.

“What?” Carrie demanded.

“We’re curious about your dinner date,” her mother said mildly.

Carrie should’ve realized her family would hear she’d gone out with Vaughn. How they knew she could only speculate, but in a small town word traveled even faster than it did on the Internet.

“How’d it go?” Ken asked, looking as though he’d welcome the opportunity to defend her honor should the occasion arise.

Part of the pain of her divorce came from knowing that she was the first in their family’s history to whom it had happened. Long-standing marriages were a tradition she would gladly have continued. But she couldn’t stay married to a man who didn’t honor his vows, a man whose unfaithfulness undermined her self-respect, as well as their marriage. Her four brothers had hinted that things with Alec would have worked out differently if they’d been around to see to it. Needless to say, the last thing she wanted was her brothers, much as she loved them, playing the role of enforcers.

“He’s very nice,” she said, carefully weighing her words. She didn’t want to give the impression that there was more to their meeting than a simple, friendly dinner.

“He didn’t try anything, did he?” Chuck asked.

Carrie nearly laughed out loud. “Of course he didn’t. Where’s Dad?” she asked, wondering why her father hadn’t leaped into the conversation.

Before anyone could respond, her father shuffled into the room, wearing his old slippers, a newspaper tucked under his arm and his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He stopped abruptly when he saw her.

“So how was your hot date?” he asked. He stood in front of his easy chair and waited for her to answer.

“It was just dinner,” she protested. “The only reason he asked me out was to kill time while he waited for Hassie.” It was unlikely they’d be doing this again, which she supposed was just as well. She had to admit she wanted to, but from what he’d said, he was only in the area for the Christmas holidays and then he was going home to Seattle. There was no point in starting something you couldn’t finish, she thought. Not that she knew if he was even interested in her…or available.

“Will you be seeing him again?” her mother asked, but Carrie wasn’t fooled by her nonchalant tone.

“He’s coming back Sunday afternoon to—”

“That’s great.” Her mother smiled, clearly pleased.

“He isn’t returning to see me .” It was important her family understand that she had nothing to do with his decision. The sole reason for his visit was to spend time with Hassie.

“That’s a shame.” Her father claimed his chair, turning automatically to the sports page.

“Did you invite him to the tree-lighting ceremony?” Ken asked.

Her father lowered the newspaper and her mother paused in the middle of a stitch to await her response.

“No,” Carrie admitted reluctantly. She’d thought of mentioning it, but couldn’t see the purpose. She glanced around the room, looking at each hopeful face.

What she didn’t say was that she would’ve welcomed the opportunity to know Vaughn Kyle better. The few hours she’d spent with him had helped her realize that her heart was still capable of response, that it hadn’t shriveled up inside her like an orange left too long in the fruit bowl.

For that she was grateful.

As Vaughn pulled the rental car into the long driveway that led to his parents’ home, he saw that his mother had turned on the back porch light. It wasn’t really necessary, since the outside of the entire house was decorated with Christmas lights.

He knew his mother had made tentative plans for a dinner with friends on Sunday afternoon and might not be pleased by his absence. However, Vaughn didn’t mind returning to Buffalo Valley. He’d enjoyed meeting Carrie and learning some of the town’s recent history. He’d report this information to Natalie; she might find it useful. Carrie Hendrickson was an interesting contrast to the women he’d met and dated in Seattle during the past few years—including Natalie, his sort-of fiancée. Carrie had shied away from talking about herself, which was a refreshing change from what he’d grown accustomed to hearing. A recent dinner date with Natalie had been spent discussing every aspect of her career and the Value-X corporation—as if their work was all they had to talk about. He’d come away with a letdown feeling, feeling, somehow, that he’d missed out on something important…only he didn’t know quite what. After all, he admired Natalie’s drive and ambition and her unemotional approach to life.

His mother was finishing the dinner dishes when he entered the kitchen. “How was your visit?” she asked, rinsing a pan before setting it on the drainboard.

“Wonderful.”

“How’s Hassie?” she asked, looking expectantly at him as she reached for the towel to dry her hands. “You did give her my love, didn’t you?”

“She was exhausted.” He explained that the pharmacist had been at a meeting when he arrived and that her assistant had convinced him to wait until she got back. Neither she nor Carrie had mentioned the reason for the meeting, but whatever it was had drained her, emotionally and physically.

His mother’s brow furrowed with concern. “She’s not ill, is she?”

“I don’t think so, but I didn’t want to tire her out any more than she already was, so I told her I’d be back on Sunday.”

His mother’s face clouded and he knew what was coming. The subject of Vaughn Knight always distressed her. Every time his name was brought up, she grew quiet. He suspected she’d postponed a promised visit to Hassie because, for whatever reason, she found it hard to talk about Vaughn. More than once he’d seen tears fill her eyes. His mother wasn’t the only one; his father also tended to avoid conversations about Hassie’s son. All Vaughn knew was that both his parents thought a great deal of the friend who’d lost his life in a rice paddy thirty-three years earlier. So much that it still caused them pain.

“I’m glad you’re doing this,” she said. “Over the years I’ve wanted to talk about Vaughn, but I get choked up whenever time I try.”

She grabbed a bottle of hand lotion and occupied herself with that for a few moments, but Vaughn wasn’t fooled. She didn’t want him to see that her eyes were brimming with tears.

“Hassie will do a far better job of telling you about Vaughn than your father or I could.”

Impulsively Vaughn hugged his mother, then joined his father, who was watching television in the living room.

On Sunday the drive into Buffalo Valley seemed to go faster than it had on Friday. He knew exactly where he needed to go, and the very landscape he’d found monotonous two days earlier now seemed familiar, even welcoming.

When he pulled into town, Buffalo Bob was spreading salt on the sidewalk in front of his own place and the businesses on either side. He waved, and Vaughn returned the gesture, then eased into a parking spot near the pharmacy. Once again he was struck by what an appealing town Buffalo Valley was. It felt as though he’d stepped back in time, to an era when family and a sense of community were priorities, when neighbor helped neighbor and people felt responsible for one another.

A sign on the door stated that the drugstore was open from noon until five on Sundays during December. When he walked inside, Vaughn found Hassie behind the counter. He automatically looked for Carrie and wasn’t disappointed when he saw her over by the cash register, checking receipts. She paused in her task as soon as she saw him.

To his surprise, his mind had drifted toward her a number of times since Friday. He was attracted by her charm, which was real and uncontrived. She was genuine and warm, and he liked the pride in her eyes when she talked about her town.

She froze, as if she, too, had been thinking of him. That was a pleasant thought and one that sent a shiver of guilt through him. He was as good as engaged to Natalie, and the last thing he should be doing was flirting with another woman.

“Right on time,” Hassie said, sounding much livelier this afternoon than she had two days earlier.

“I’m rarely tardy when I have a date with a beautiful woman,” he teased, and watched both Hassie and Carrie smile. He generally didn’t have much use for flattery, but occasionally it served a purpose. In this case, his rather silly statement had given everyone, including him, a moment of pleasure.

“You going to be all right here by yourself?” She turned to Carrie.

“Of course. You two go and visit, and don’t you worry about a thing.”

“I’ll just get my coat,” Hassie said, and disappeared to retrieve it. While she was gone, he had a few minutes with Carrie.

“I’m glad you’re doing this for Hassie,” she said. “It means so much to her to be sharing her son’s life with you.”

“I’m not doing it out of any sense of charity.” Vaughn was truly interested in learning what he could about his namesake.

Hassie returned, wearing a long, dark coat, and they walked over to her house, which was one street off Main. Vaughn slowed his gait to match hers, tucking her arm in the crook of his elbow. Together they strolled leisurely down the newly shoveled sidewalk.

The house resembled something out of a 1950s movie. The furniture was large and bulky, covered in thick navy-blue fabric. Doilies decorated the back of the chair, and three were strategically placed across the back of the matching sofa. Even the television set was an old-fashioned floor model.

“It’ll only take me a minute to make tea,” Hassie announced heading toward the kitchen. He was given instructions to sit down and to look through the photo albums she’d already laid out.

Vaughn opened the biggest album. The first photograph he saw was a black-and-white version of a much younger Hassie standing with a baby cradled in her arms. A tall, handsome man stood awkwardly beside her, grinning self-consciously. His hand was on the shoulder of a little girl about four or five who stood in front of them, her dark brown hair in long braids.

Thereafter, photograph after photograph documented the life of Vaughn Knight. He was in Boy Scouts and active in his church. His school pictures showed increasing growth and maturity. When he reached high school, Vaughn had grown tall and athletic; a series of newspaper articles detailed his success on the basketball court and the football field. The year he was a senior, Buffalo Valley High School won the state football championship, with Vaughn Knight as the star quarterback. Another article named him Most Valuable Player.

His high-school graduation picture revealed the face of a young man eager to explore the world.

Hassie rejoined him, carrying a tray with a ceramic pot and two matching cups, as well as a plate of small cookies.

Vaughn stood and took the tray from her, placing it on the coffee table, and waited while she poured. He noticed that her hands were unsteady, but he didn’t interrupt or try to assist her.

When she’d finished, she picked up a round, plain hatbox and removed the lid. “The top letter is the first one that mentions your mother.”

Vaughn reached for the envelope.

September 30, 1966

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m in love. Don’t laugh when you read this. Rick and I went to a hootenanny last night and there was this terrific girl there. Her name’s Barbara Lowell, and guess what? She’s from Grand Forks. She’s got long blond hair and the most incredible smile you’ve ever seen. After the hootenanny we drank coffee and talked for hours. I’ve never felt like this about any other girl. She’s smart and funny and so beautiful I had a hard time not staring at her. Even after I left her, I was so wrapped up in meeting her I couldn’t sleep. First thing this morning, I called her and we talked for two hours. Rick is thoroughly disgusted with me and I don’t blame him, but I’ve never been in love before.

As soon as I can, I want to bring her home for you to meet. You’ll understand why I feel the way I do once you see her for yourselves.

Love,

Vaughn

“The Rick he’s writing about is my dad?” Vaughn asked.

Hassie nodded. “Here’s another one you might find interesting.” She lifted a batch of letters from the box.

It was apparent from the way she sorted through the dates that she’d reread each letter countless times.

July 16, 1967

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’ve made my decision, but I have to tell you it was probably the most difficult I’ve ever had to make. I love Barb, and both of us want to get married right away. If I were thinking just of me, that’s exactly what we’d do before I ship out. But I’m following your example, Dad. You and Mom waited until after the war to marry, and you came back safe and whole. I will, too.

Barb cried when I told her I felt it was best to delay the wedding until after my tour. Although you never advised me one way or the other, I had the feeling you thought it was better this way.

Vaughn stopped reading. “Did you want him to wait before marrying my mother?”

Hassie closed her eyes. “His father and I thought they were both too young. In the years that followed, I lived to regret that. Perhaps if Vaughn had married your mother, there might have been a grandchild. I realize that’s terribly selfish, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I always wondered if Jerry would’ve lived longer if we’d had grandchildren. Valerie was still in college at the time and wasn’t married yet. A few years after that, she moved to Hawaii to take a job and met her husband there, but by then it was too late for Jerry.”

“So your husband took the news of Vaughn’s death very hard?”

“Once we received word about Vaughn, my husband was never the same. He was close to both children, but the shock of Vaughn’s death somehow made him lose his emotional balance. Much as he loved Valerie and me, he couldn’t get over the loss of his son. He went into a deep depression and started having heart problems. A year later, he died, too.”

“Heart attack?”

“Technically, yes, but Vaughn’s death is what really killed him, despite what that death certificate said. He simply gave up caring about anything. I wish…” Her voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry,” Vaughn said, and meant it.

“Don’t be.” She patted his hand. “God knew better. Had your mother and my son married, you would never have been born.”

It must have hit her hard that her son’s fiancée and closest friend married each other within a year of his death. “Were you upset when my parents got married?” he asked.

“A little in the beginning, but then I realized that was exactly what Vaughn would have wanted. He did love her, and I know in my heart of hearts that she loved him, too.”

“She did.” Vaughn could say that without hesitation.

Hassie plucked a tissue from the nearby box and dabbed at her eyes. “I’d like you to have this.” She reached for a second box and withdrew a heavy felt crest displaying the letters BVHS. It took Vaughn a moment to recognize that it was from a letterman’s jacket.

“Vaughn was very proud of this. He earned it in wrestling. He was a natural at most sports. Basketball and football were barely a challenge, but that wasn’t the case with wrestling. Many an afternoon he’d walk into the pharmacy and announce to his father and me that he was quitting. By dinnertime he’d change his mind and then he’d go back the next day.” She paused, dabbing at her eyes again. “Our children were the very best of Jerry and me. Vaughn was a good son, and losing him changed all of us forever.”

“I’d be honored to have this letter,” Vaughn said.

“Thank you,” Hassie whispered. She smiled faintly through her tears. “You must think me an old fool.”

“No,” he was quick to tell her. “I’m very glad you showed me all this.” For the first time Vaughn Knight was more than a name, someone remembered who’d been lost in a war fought half a world away. He was alive in the words of his letters, in the photographs and in the heart of his mother.

“His letters from Vietnam are in this box,” Hassie said. “They’ll give you a feel for what it was like. If you’re interested…”

Having served in the military, Vaughn was, of course, interested. He sat back and read the first letter. When he’d finally finished them all, it’d grown dark and Hassie was busy in the kitchen.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s after six.”

“No.” He found that hard to believe. “I had no idea I’d kept you this long. I apologize, Hassie. You should have stopped me.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t. Your interest was a pleasure to me. Everything was fine with the store—Carrie’s fully capable of handling anything that might come up. Besides, we’re closed now.”

“He could’ve been a writer, your son,” Vaughn said, setting aside the last letter. For a few hours he’d been completely drawn into Vaughn Knight’s descriptions of people and landscapes and events. Although the details were lightly sketched, a vivid picture of the young soldier’s life had revealed itself through his words.

“I often thought that myself,” Hassie agreed. After a brief silence she said, “I didn’t want to interrupt you to ask about dinner. I hope it wasn’t overly presumptuous to assume you’d join me.”

“I’d like that very much.”

Hassie nodded once, slowly, as if she considered his company of great worth.

While she put the finishing touches on the meal, Vaughn phoned his parents to tell them he’d be later than anticipated. “Be sure and give Hassie my love,” his mother instructed. “Tell her your father and I plan to visit her soon.”

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