A New Mommy For Christmas

Widower Davis Turner doesn’t need to hear his children’s whispered wishes for a new mom to recognize that new neighbor Lana Ross is a beautiful woman. But he worries that his feelings for the former bad girl could put his family at risk for small-town scandal. Lana knows she should steer clear of Davis. Yet she can’t resist spending time with the handsome single dad, even if the truth might soon tear them apart. Though Lana has turned over a new leaf, her secrets have followed her to Whisper Falls. Secrets that could destroy her hope for a future with Davis.

Whisper Falls: Where every prayer is answered…

“It’s kind of interesting to look at who we were then and where we are now. Life has a way of changing us.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” She’d gone pensive on him, gaze somewhere in the distance.

“Aw, come on. You weren’t so bad.”

“You always were the nicest guy. With an apparently faulty memory.” She motioned toward the paper in his hand. “So what do you think? Any ideas for me?”

She was shutting off the conversation, unwilling to talk about herself anymore, but for a moment he’d glimpsed the young girl she used to be. He’d seen some things in her expression that surprised him. Hurt. Regret. Sadness.

Troubled, he turned his attention to the list, though he was more aware of Lana Ross than he wanted to be.

He swallowed, bothered to be thinking about her, not as a neighbor in need as he’d told his sister, but as a beautiful, interesting woman an arm’s length away.

LINDA GOODNIGHT

Winner of a RITA® Award for excellence in inspirational fiction, Linda Goodnight has also won a Booksellers’ Best Award, an ACFW Book of the Year award and a Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews. Linda has appeared on the Christian bestseller list and her romance novels have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. She and her husband live in Oklahoma. Visit her website at www.lindagoodnight.com. To browse a current listing of Linda Goodnight’s titles, please visit www.millsandboon.co.uk.

Sugarplum Homecoming

Linda Goodnight

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

—John 8:7

The Whisper Falls series is dedicated in memory

of my brother, Stan Case. I miss you, bro.

Contents

Prologue

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

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Prologue

“Come on, Nathan,” nine-year-old Paige whispered with urgency. “Hurry before Daddy wakes up.”

Nathan cast a worried eye toward his father sprawled on a blanket beneath a tree, hands behind his head. The remnants of an early autumn picnic were strewn about the quiet glade deep in the Ozark Mountains. “We’re going to get in trouble.”

Paige fisted a hand on one slight hip. “Do you want a mom or not?”

Nathan’s gray gaze went from his dad to the twenty-foot-high waterfall only yards away. “Well, yeah, but Whisper Falls is kind of big and scary.”

Impatiently, Paige tugged on her little brother’s arm. He could be such a baby sometimes. “You can do it, brother. God will help you.”

Paige knew her brother well. Give him a challenge, tell him God was in it, and he would give everything he had. Which wasn’t much considering how little he was.

As she expected, Nathan thrust out his dinosaur T-shirt and trotted toward the waterfall. The noise from the water tumbling over the mountainside was really loud but not that scary to Paige. Daddy had brought them here before. They loved Whisper Falls. They loved wading in the pool below, beyond the foam and current, where even now three teenagers splashed and yelled.

But fun wasn’t Paige’s mission today. She’d thought up the picnic as an excuse to get here, to do the one thing she was certain would bring her their heart’s desire. To pray. Everybody said it was true. The story was in the brochures all over town. Anyone brave enough to reach the secret place behind the falls would get their prayer answered. And Paige had decided the time was now.

With her pointed chin as determined as her brother’s, Paige jogged toward Whisper Falls. Nathan tagged along, a little reluctant but willing. Like her, he was ready to do anything to get a mom.

They reached the slippery gray rock face and started the climb. Natural cleaves in the mountainside offered a foothold but over the years so many people had made the climb that the path was well worn. If they clung tight, like the slugs Joel Snider brought to fourth grade for show-and-tell, they’d make it all the way up to God’s special place.

“Why do we have to pray up here?” Nathan asked, his face wrinkled with worry as he crept along in front of her, small hands gripping the rocks. If Daddy caught them, they’d have to do more than pray to get out of trouble.

Paige grunted as she took another handhold and waited for her brother to inch forward. The waterfall grew louder by the second, so she raised her voice. “I told you already. We’re on a mission. Like in the movies when that guy had to bring back the ring to save the world. We have to prove ourselves worthy of a new mom.”

“Oh.”

She hoped that satisfied him for now because she was getting out of breath trying to talk and climb. Climbing was harder than she’d imagined. Harder than the sixth graders said. Maybe none of them had really climbed the falls at all.

“We’re almost there,” she huffed.

Paige glanced down and wished she hadn’t. Daddy looked tiny, like a Ken doll, and the pool looked huge and bubbly. Spray dampened her skin. The smells of trees and leaves and water swirled like the pool below. One of the teenagers saw her and pointed.

Please, please, don’t let him tell.

She gave a casual nod, hoping the teen believed she wasn’t nearly as scared as she was. When she turned back toward the climb, Nathan was gone!

Panic seized her. Her hands were cold and wet, but she climbed faster, praying that the stories were true, that a secret room existed behind the waterfall, that Nathan hadn’t fallen to his death.

She stretched her leg as far as her muscles would go, felt a foothold with the toe of her tennis shoe and lunged...and found herself standing on a wide ledge behind a terrifying rush of water. There was Nathan grinning at her.

“This is way cool.”

Paige heaved a shaky sigh. “Let’s pray and get out of here fast.”

“I like it up here.” He stuck his fingers into the violent spray of water whooshing in front of them.

Paige grabbed his hand and pushed him back. She had to get him out of here before he did something childish. Like fall off the mountain. “Never mind about that. Close your eyes and think about Jesus and a new mom.”

“But—”

“Do it, Nathan. Dad might wake up any minute.”

This was enough to get his attention. He nodded and clasped his hands beneath his chin. “Okay. Do we want a mom with blond hair or brown hair?”

“Silly, I don’t care about that kind of stuff. I want a mom who reads to us and tucks us in and bakes cupcakes for school parties.”

“Daddy does that. Well, except for the cupcakes. He gets those at the bakery.”

“That’s not the point. We need a mom. Dad can’t even fix my hair.” She slapped at the side of her super short cut, the only kind of hairstyle Daddy could manage. She was nearly ten, for goodness’ sake. Most of all she longed for a mother to love. Sometimes her heart hurt so bad at night when she prayed that she thought it might burst right out of her chest.

“I want a mom with brown hair,” Nathan said stubbornly. “Our other mom had brown hair.”

Paige smothered a sigh. She loved her brother a great big lot but sometimes he didn’t understand what was really important. Not the way she did. “Then pray for a mom with brown hair. I don’t care. Just pray.”

With all the reverence she’d been taught in Sunday school and children’s church since the day she was born, Paige folded her hands beneath her chin.

“Dear God, we need a mom. Daddy needs a wife. He’s been sad long enough and Aunt Jenny says it’s time for him to move on. Please send us a mother. Before Christmas would be nice.”

“With brown hair.”

Paige opened one eye. Nathan didn’t even remember their mother. He’d only seen pictures. Like the one at Daddy’s bedside. A piece of her heart felt really sad for him about that. “Yes, God, if it’s not too much to ask, send a great mom with brown hair. And make her pretty so Daddy will like her, too. Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Now, let’s get out of here before Daddy wakes up.”

“How do we get down?”

Oh, boy, she’d not considered that part.

“Nathan! Paige! Where are you?” Daddy’s voice came as a faint but worried echo through the silver curtain of water.

Nathan turned accusing eyes on his sister. “We are in so much trouble.”

Chapter One

Bad pennies always return. But what about bad people?

Lana Ross stepped up on the wooden porch of the weathered old two-story house. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs. She’d not wanted to come to this place of bad memories. She’d had to.

A stern inner voice, the voice of hard-won peace, moved her forward, toward the door, toward the interior. A house couldn’t hurt her. If she’d been alone perhaps she would have given in to the shaky knees and returned to the car. But she wasn’t alone.

Lana aimed a wink at the child at her side. Sydney was her everything now and no memories were allowed to keep this nine-year-old darling from having her very first permanent home.

“Is this where you lived when you were my age?” Sydney asked, her vivid turquoise eyes alive with interest.

“Uh-huh, Tess and I grew up here.” Grew up. Yanked up. Kicked out.

A tangle of a vanilla-scented vine, overgrown and climbing upon the porch and around the paint-peeled pillar at one end, gave off a powerfully sweet smell. She didn’t remember the bush being there before, especially this late in the fall. But then, she’d not seen this place in thirteen years. Not since she was eighteen and free to leave without looking over her shoulder for the long arm of the law.

With the sour taste of yesterday in her throat, Lana inserted the tarnished key into the front door, an old-time lock a person could peer through, and after a few tries felt the tumbler click. Breath held, she pushed the door open on its creaky hinges, but didn’t step inside. Not yet. She needed a minute to be certain the house was empty, though she had the death certificate in her bag. Mama was dead. Had been for a couple of years. As far as she knew her entire family was dead. All except Lana and Tess and precious Sydney.

She couldn’t make herself go inside. Everything was still and quiet in the dim living room, but inside her head Lana heard the yells, the fights, the horrible names she’d believed and mostly earned.

She and her twin sister, Tess, were no more and no less than what their mother had made them. Now, all these years later, Lana was determined to be more for Sydney’s sake.

“We’ll be happy here,” Sydney declared with childlike confidence.

“Yes, we will.” If I have to fight the universe, you will have what you need and you will never, ever again live on the streets or inside a broken-down car.

“Can we go in now? I want to see my room. You said I could have my own room, remember? And we’d fix it up fit for a princess? Remember?”

“I remember.” The child’s enthusiasm stirred Lana to action. Sydney had never had a room of her own. She’d never had a house. They’d lived here and there, in tiny one-room apartments and cheap hotels, all in pursuit of Lana’s impossible dream. Most important of all, Sydney would be safe here. No one would ever expect Lana to return to the one place she’d tried so hard to escape. Especially Sydney’s mother.

“Who’s that?” Sydney asked from her spot half in and half out of what had once been the front parlor.

Across the street a man and two children stood in a neatly mowed yard watching them. Lana’s stomach dropped into her resoled cowboy boots. It couldn’t be. Surely not.

The thought had no more than crossed her mind than the sandy-brown haired man with the all-American good looks lifted a hand to wave and then started toward them. Two young children, close to Sydney’s age, skipped along as if on an adventure.

Lana froze, one hand on the doorknob and the other gripping Sydney’s as if Davis Turner would snatch her up and carry her away.

“Hello,” he said when he reached the end of the cracked sidewalk leading to the two-story.

Yep. He was Davis Turner all right. Mr. Clean-cut and Righteous. He’d been a year ahead of her in school. No one in Whisper Falls had a smile as wide, as easy and as bright as Davis.

Please God, don’t let him recognize me.

“Hi,” she said, not bothering to smile.

“You moving into the old Ross place?” Davis slipped his hands into the back pocket of his jeans, relaxed and easy in his skin. The man was much like the boy she remembered.

“We are.”

“Great.” He flashed that smile again. White straight teeth, easy, flexible skin that had weathered nicely, leaving happy spokes around grayish-blue eyes and along his cheeks. “The house has been empty a long time. Houses need people to keep them young and healthy.”

What an interesting thing to say. This house had never been healthy because of the people in it. “I suppose.”

“We live across the street in the beige brick with the black shutters. I’m Davis Turner and these are my munchkins, Paige and Nathan.”

Lana released a tiny inner sigh of relief. Davis didn’t recognize her, though sooner or later he’d discover he lived too close to the town bad girl. Would the people of Whisper Falls still remember? Did she dare hope that time had erased her teenage indiscretions from inquiring minds?

Not a chance.

“I’m ten. Well, almost,” the young girl at Davis’s side announced. “Nathan’s barely eight. I’m the oldest. What’s your name?”

“This is Sydney,” Lana said, purposely providing Sydney’s name instead of hers. She couldn’t avoid the introduction forever, but she wanted to buy some time before Davis’s bright smile withered and he turned on his heels, dragging his children in a rush to lock his doors and keep them away. “She’s also nine, just barely.”

Sydney hung back, aqua eyes cautious. She was too shy, too hesitant with others, something Lana hoped would disappear once they were settled. Her niece needed friends badly and Lana prayed her prior reputation in this close-knit mountain community wouldn’t interfere with Sydney’s happiness.

“Say hello, Sydney.”

Sydney ducked her head, displaying the precise part in her super curly brown hair. “Hello.”

“Are you gonna live here?” the little boy, Nathan asked.

“We are.”

“Just the two of you?” With the same blue-gray eyes, brown hair and square jaw of his father, Nathan was handsome. Unlike his father, he sported a dimple in one cheek.

“That’s the plan,” Lana answered.

“Are you married?”

Paige elbowed her brother. “Shh.”

“But Paige, we have to know,” Nathan protested. “She has brown hair!”

The adults exchanged glances and smiled. Davis appeared as clueless about the comment as Lana. What did her hair color have to do with anything, especially marriage?

Paige, an elfin beauty, simple and pure with pale brown freckles and ultrashort blond hair, attempted to explain. “What he means, ma’am, is that we’re glad to meet you and we’d like to get better acquainted. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”

Davis turned his twinkly smile on Lana again, clearly amused by his children. “Always glad to welcome new neighbors. I didn’t get your name.”

The jig was up. She’d prayed to get settled before her tainted past charged in with all guns blazing. Apparently, God, Who’d brought her this far, expected her to face her fears head-on.

It was now or never. Either Davis remembered or he didn’t. Time to find out.

Chin up, eyes meeting his, she said, “I’m Lana Ross. You and I attended high school together.”

* * *

Davis blinked rapidly, off balance. This was Lana Ross? The wild child from high school? The girl with the bad attitude and potty mouth who was rumored to do about anything with anyone?

“I thought you looked familiar.” But different, too. The hard-eyed teenager who’d run off to seek fame and fortune in Nashville looked softer as an adult. Lana had always been pretty, but the softer look made her beautiful. Long, brown hair waving past her shoulders, dark mink eyebrows above clear eyes the color of the Tuscan blue tile he’d installed in a recent boutique remodel, cowboy boots over skinny jeans and an off-shoulder blouse on a petite form.

Pretty. Real pretty.

Davis was disturbed to feel a pull of interest.

Considering the welfare of his children, he wasn’t even sure he wanted Lana Ross for a neighbor. He certainly didn’t want to be attracted to her.

His conscience dinged, a sign the Lord was knocking on his door. Let you without sin cast the first stone.

Right. He agreed. He was no better than anyone else. But what about his kids? He was a firm believer in the old adage, “If you run with the wolves, you’ll begin to howl.” As a single father, he struggled to find exactly the right parenting balance, but he certainly didn’t intend to have howling children.

“Daddy.” Nathan tugged at his sleeve. “Can we go inside? Can we explore the haunted house?”

Lana arched an eyebrow at him. A little embarrassed, Davis said, “Sorry about that. You know how kids are. The house has been empty such a long time....”

“And it is spooky looking, Daddy,” Paige said, eyes widening. “I looked in the windows before and didn’t see no headless horsemen or creepy monsters, but Jaley says they only come out at night.”

Jaley was Paige’s best friend, a child with a vividly overactive imagination. He could, however, understand why the house had gained a reputation. Peeling paint, sagging doors and filthy dormer windows that looked out like empty eyes through faded black shutters were creepy enough, but the overgrown bushes and vines and the sheer loneliness lent an air of doom to the place. More than one shaky teenager had been caught climbing in through a window on a dare.

But Paige’s comments had scared Lana’s little girl. Small like Lana with kinky curly beige hair, Sydney had stiffened, growing paler with each spooky word. She clung to Lana as if she was now afraid to go inside the house.

Davis put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and squeezed, the signal he used in church to get her to stop talking. Paige hushed, shoulders slouching as her bottom lip protruded. She’d gotten the message.

“The house is not haunted,” he said firmly. “I told you that. Houses get lonely. All this one needs is a family.” And an enormous amount of work.

“Now it has one,” Lana declared, relief in her husky voice, though she tugged Sydney closer to her jean-clad thigh and soothed the child with a pat on the back.

“She’ll need some fixing up,” Davis said. “You know how some teenagers are when they know a house sets empty.”

He’d caught a few of them himself, usually on nights with a full moon or late in autumn just before Halloween when wind and dry, rustling leaves permeated the atmosphere.

Lana blanched, eyes widening as she swiveled her head toward the peeling paint and loose siding and then back to him. “The house has been vandalized?”

Hadn’t the woman considered the possibility?

“I haven’t been inside in a couple of years, since before your mother passed, but things had run down even then.” He didn’t say the obvious. Patricia Ross had two daughters and neither had come home to help their ailing mother. He couldn’t imagine being that coldhearted against your own kin. But then, Lana and Tess Ross hadn’t been the usual girls. Patricia’s brother had come from Nevada to bury her.

“Vandals,” Lana murmured, looking as if the weight of the house was on her shoulders. “Wonder what that will cost to repair?”

Regardless of his doubts about her, Davis’s natural compassion kicked in. He could help her out. He had the expertise. He was her neighbor. He fought the urge, but kindness won out in the end. Might as well give in to it now and save wrestling with his conscience later.

“I could take a look around the place if you want and give you a rough estimate.” That was all he planned. Just a quick walk-through.

“You do that sort of thing?”

The warm autumn wind lifted a lock of her hair and swirled it around until she had a spiderweb of brown matted on top of her head. She brushed at the nest, making it worse. He found the look charming and vulnerable. Davis was a sucker for vulnerable.

Tough-as-nails Lana Ross, vulnerable?

“I can,” he said. “Mostly, I lay tile but I’ve flipped a house or two. I can do a little of everything when the situation calls for it.” His face relaxed in a self-mocking grin. “In tile work, especially around here, the situation almost always calls for it. If I redo a shower, the floor beneath is inevitably rotten. Tile a floor? Bad joists.”

For the first time since his arrival, Lana’s pretty mouth curved. Just a little. “A true renaissance man?”

“Nowhere near that interesting, but I do know my way around a construction site.”

Renaissance man. Huh. Funny. Except when he had a trowel or a hammer in hand, he was as boring as vanilla pudding. Didn’t his sister remind him of that fact at least once a month? Jenny was forever trying to get him out into the world again. The dating world.

“Thanks for the offer, Davis,” Lana was saying, “but I guess we need to get settled in first and then figure out where to go from there.”

“Got it. Good plan.” She was blowing him off, rejecting his offer. Even though disappointment made his smile droop, Davis knew he should be glad about her refusal. He’d have no obligation now, no guilty conscience for not being neighborly to a woman and her daughter living alone.

Which brought him to another subject: Where was Sydney’s father?

As soon as the question settled in like good grouting mud, another followed. She’d never addressed Nathan’s oddball question about being married, and she and Sydney were moving in without any sign of a man. Recalling Lana’s teenage years, Davis thought the chances were very good the two were alone.

Chapter Two

“He was nice,” Sydney said.

Lana absently stroked a hand over Sydney’s frizzy hair as they stood on the top porch step—the only porch step—and watched Davis Turner and his kids recross the quiet residential street. A vanilla breeze danced around their feet, tossing leaves and dirt over their shoes and into a growing pile against the siding.

Davis was nice, but she’d seen the shock in his eyes and felt the temperature drop when she’d told him her name. He remembered.

Nothing she hadn’t expected but still the reaction stung. She’d changed, thank God, the day she’d stumbled into a Nashville street mission drunk as a skunk after getting turned down for an important gig at the Opry. She hadn’t known it then, but both had been her last chance. She’d never sung in public again, but she’d found the Lord and started on a new path.

Lana looked at Sydney, her throat aching with love and guilt. “Maybe you can be friends with Paige and Nathan.”

Dear Lord, don’t make Sydney pay any more for Tess’s or my mistakes. Let this work. Make it work for her sake.

“Will Paige be in my class at school?”

“Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll have to ask. Come on, let’s get the car unloaded.” She thumped the flat of her palm against the center pillar in a show of energy she didn’t feel. They still hadn’t worked up the nerve to go inside the forlorn two-story, but they were here and they would stay. Regardless. Somehow she and Sydney would turn this dreary old relic into a real home, clearing out one room and one old ghost at a time.

“Nathan was nice, too,” Sydney said. She reached her skinny arms into the backseat of the old Ford and dragged out a cardboard box. “He said I could swing on his swing set sometime.”

“He did?” Lana had not even noticed the children talking, probably because she’d been too focused on their handsome father. Boy, did she ever remember him!

“Uh-huh. He did. So, can I?”

“We’ll see.”

“Paige said they have a dog. Can we get a dog?”

“I don’t think so.” When she saw Sydney’s expression, Lana hurried to say, “Maybe later after we’re well settled.”

Sydney shoved the box onto the grass with a grunt. “Am I staying at this school forever?”

“Poor baby.” Lana squatted for a hug. Sydney had changed schools frequently enough to develop reading difficulties. Lana was determined to remedy that problem this year. Stability was the answer, even if it meant living in this awful house. “We’re going to try.”

Sydney rested her hands on Lana’s shoulders, face close. She had the most beautiful olive skin and turquoise eyes.

“You’re not going to sing no more? Never?”

The loss was still as sharp as a hot stick in the eye. Music was the only thing Lana had ever been good at, though like everything else, not good enough. “No, baby. I have a real job now.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Sydney screwed up her face, feathery dark eyebrows drawing together over her nose. “What was it?”

“I’ll be working for the Whisper Falls newspaper.” She popped the lid on the trunk. Their pitiful possessions were stuffed into two cardboard boxes and a couple of battered suitcases. “I’ll have press passes which means we’ll get to go to lots of fun events for free. Football games, carnivals, plays, all kinds of things.”

“Cool.”

Actually, she was a stringer covering local events for the small paper. The pay was minimal but it was money. Along with the amount her mother left behind—unintentionally, Lana was certain—they should be all right for a while. That is if she could figure out how to write an acceptable article. School hadn’t exactly been her thing, but like singing she could always write. She’d written lots of songs, none of which had been picked up, of course.

Joshua Kendle, the newspaperman on the other end of the telephone, had promised on-the-job training and hired her sight unseen, so how hard could the reporter job be?

Desperate times meant desperate measures. She would personally hand deliver every paper in town—or live in this house—to give Sydney a normal, stable life.

Sydney, slender back bent in half, began pushing a cardboard box across the grass.

“Hold on and I’ll help you.” Lana slammed the trunk of the dependable old Focus with one hand while balancing yet another box on her hip. Though she mourned the loss of her pickup truck, the Focus had been more economical and more sensible.

“I can do it by myself.”

Box on one hip, Lana grabbed the smaller of the suitcases and rolled it, bumping along behind Sydney as she crossed the dry brown grassy distance from the cracked driveway to the porch. Times like these she could use a man around to help out.

Her thoughts shifted again to Davis Turner. She’d had a mild crush on him in high school though he’d never known it. He was an upperclassman, the boy everyone liked because, unlike his sister Jenny, he didn’t have a snarky bone in his body. She wondered if he was still that way.

Time hadn’t damaged his appeal. That was for certain. If anything, maturity had made him more attractive. Very Matt Damon-ish, and hadn’t she always had a crush on the fresh-faced actor?

Lana shook her head in disgust. Men had been her downfall one too many times. Now that she had Sydney to consider and she no longer drank, she wasn’t going down that road again.

Arms full and Sydney nowhere in sight, she kicked the storm door with her boot toe and caught it on the first bounce, thrusting it open with the rolling luggage. The door swung out and back quicker than she’d expected, catching her in the backside and knocking her off balance. The cardboard box tumbled from her arms, spilling its contents. In a juggle to stop her fall, Lana caught her boot on a loose piece of threshold and hit her knee against the suitcase. The rollers spun the bag in front of her, entangled her feet, and down she went.

Dusty carpet came up to kiss her. The musty odor of disuse and grime tickled her nostrils. Inside her childhood home for the first time in thirteen years and here she was sprawled flat on her face. With her underwear spread all over the floor.

Lips twisting wryly, Lana lifted her head and looked around. Crude red graffiti scrawled across the wall directly in front of her. She glanced to the right and then to the left. More graffiti. She shuddered and buried her face in the crook of her arm, breathing deep the lonely, musty smells. The buoyant hope that had propelled her four hundred miles scuttled away with the sound of whatever vermin roamed her childhood home. For the first time since the idea struck, Lana questioned her decision to bring Sydney to this house.

Maybe she should have let Davis have a look around after all.

* * *

Davis slid a pan of lasagna from the oven with a fat maroon oven mitt. The warm oregano scent filled his modern kitchen. He set the casserole dish on an iron trivet, careful to protect the gleaming black granite countertops he’d installed himself. If there was anything Davis enjoyed, it was transforming the looks of a room with tile and granite.

“Come and eat!” he called and was gratified to hear the scramble for the remote as one of the kids shut off the Wii game. “Red velvet cake for dessert.”

Thank the good Lord for a sister who occasionally took pity on him and sent over dessert. He’d learned the basics of cooking but baking was out of his league. Jenny said a trained monkey could learn to follow instructions on the back of a cake box. Which Davis figured disproved the theory of evolution once and for all since he, a human, couldn’t successfully manage the task.

“Did you wash your hands?” he asked when Nathan, forehead sweaty from the active boxing game, plopped into his chair at one side of the polished ash table.

Fingers stretched wide, Nathan held his palms up for inspection. “See? All clean. They smell good, too. Want to sniff?”

Davis scuffed his son’s hair, affection welling in his chest.“ Good enough for me, bud. Who wants to pray?”

“I will,” Paige said, her face suddenly radiant as if transfigured by the idea of talking to God.

That was his daughter. She had an ethereal faith, disconcerting at times when she offered to pray for total strangers. “All right. Go for it.”

They bowed their heads. Davis kept one eye open, trained on Nathan who had a habit of sneaking food into his mouth during prayer. Today, he was as pious as his sister.

“And Jesus, thank you for sending us new neighbors,” Paige was saying. “Bless them and I hope they have plenty to eat, too, just like we do. Do you think they like red velvet cake? Amen.”

Frowning, Davis turned his gaze on his daughter. Her sweet prayers never failed to move and impress him, but today he suspected an ulterior motive. “What was that about?”

“Well.” With studied innocence that he didn’t buy for one second, she took a slice of buttery garlic bread from the offered plate. “The Bible says to love our neighbor. Right?”

Davis looked down at the lasagna dish, suddenly uncomfortable. He suspected where this was headed. “Right.”

“Lana and Sydney are moving in that old haunted house. They might not have any groceries in the fridge yet. They might not even have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!”

“Or Popsicles,” Nathan said. To Nathan, a Popsicle was one of life’s necessities.

“A house without a Popsicle is a sad house indeed,” Davis said, amused. He dolloped ranch dressing onto his salad and forked a bite.

“Anyway, Daddy,” Paige said. “I was thinking. We want to love our neighbors and invite them to church and everything, right?” She jammed a glob of lasagna into her mouth while awaiting his reply.

Davis skirted the issue momentarily. “Nathan, put some salad on your plate.”

Nathan’s square shoulders slumped, a picture of dejection. “Aw, Daddy.”

“Nonnegotiable. No salad, no cake.”

Nathan reached for the salad.

Paige put down her fork. “Daddy, are you listening to me?”

“Sure, princess. What is it?”

“Are we going to take some lasagna and cake over to Lana and Sydney?”

Davis eyed the long casserole. They’d barely made a dent in the cheesy dish.

“I don’t know, Paige. They might be busy getting settled.” Lana had said those very words. They needed time.

“Everybody has to eat.”

“She’s pretty, isn’t she, Daddy?” This from Nathan who was clearly avoiding the three tomatoes lined up like British redcoats on the edge of his plate.

“Who?”

“Lana. I think she’s real pretty. Her hair is pretty, too. I like brown hair.”

Davis swallowed. The forkful of noodles stuck in his throat. He grabbed for his water and swigged.

Yes, Lana was pretty. She and her sassy boots had been prancing around in his head the entire time he was cooking supper. He was curious about her, wondered why she’d left her life in Nashville and what secrets lurked behind her cool blue eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted answers, but he wondered.

He’d taught his kids to do the right thing, to treat people the way they would want to be treated, and that included greeting new neighbors. He was head of the neighborhood welcome community and co-chair of block parties and summer cookouts. Might as well find out early if Lana Ross and her child were people he wanted his children associating with.

“After dinner, if you kids will help clean the kitchen without grumbling, we’ll take a couple of plates down the block. How does that sound?”

“You are the best daddy ever,” Paige said.

“Yeah,” Nathan added, nodding sagely. “Everything is going exactly like we planned.”

“Nathan!” Paige shot him a paralyzing look and shook her head. Nathan clapped both hands over his mouth.

Davis looked from one child to the other, puzzled.

What was that all about?

Chapter Three

Beware of really handsome men bearing gifts.

These random thoughts ran through Lana’s head as she tried to find a clean place in her filthy, run-down, pathetic kitchen to put two foil-covered plates.

Davis Turner was every bit as nice as she remembered. He’d brought food. Something she had not yet bothered to think about. Her stomach rumbled at the spicy, warm smells coming from the dishes. When was the last time she’d eaten anything healthy, much less homemade lasagna? She’d fed Sydney burgers and breakfast burritos on the road but had been too uptight to eat since yesterday.

“Sorry everything is a mess. The house is worse than I’d expected.” A lot, lot worse. Apparently, Mother had let the place go and the years of sitting empty had taken a worse toll.

“You’ve got your work cut out.”

“Don’t I know it? I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” She grimaced. “Or to have graffiti on the living room walls.”

“Is the living room the only place that bad?”

“Seems to be. I guess vandals haven’t gotten much farther than the front of the house. Hopefully, a good cleaning will make a big difference.”

“What about the holes?”

“Not sure yet. Put something over them, I guess. Sydney and I decided sleeping quarters were number one, so we started on her bedroom first. We can camp there for a while.” She didn’t add that she’d camped in worse.

The three kids bumped around inside the small kitchen. Pixielike Paige, the oldest and clearly the leader, said, “Sydney wants to show us the upstairs. Can we go?”

“Lana may not want a bunch of kids traipsing through her house.”

Lana gave a wry laugh. “Nothing they can hurt. Let them go.”

At a wave of Davis’s hand, the three kids took off in a rush, pounding up the wooden steps. Sydney was eager to share her room, such as it was, and Lana suspected the other two wanted to explore the “haunted house.” She didn’t hold it against them. She’d have done the same thing as a kid.

“Are the stairs secure?” Davis glanced toward the front of the house, though the entry stairwell was invisible from here. The kitchen was an add-on to the 1910 dwelling and as such, ran lengthwise across the back of the house where it met with the back porch. Long, narrow and inconveniently arranged, the kitchen could use some serious modernizing. Someday.

“We’ve been up and down quite a few times and I’ve not noticed any loose boards or weak areas.”

“Good. Stairs can be an issue in older homes.”

“These are sturdy oak, I think. Anyway, that’s what I remember.” Not that she’d paid much attention to the house other than her attempts to get out of it as often as possible.

“The place appears to have good bones. Old houses usually have better construction materials than newer ones unless there’s dry rot.”

“I hope that’s true in this case.” She shoved a bundle of old newspapers, yellowed with age, off a bar stool and onto the floor. “Have a seat?” she asked, not altogether sure he’d want to.

“Sure.” To her relief he didn’t seem all that bothered by the dirt and grime. Truth was she’d lived in worse. So had Sydney, bless her sweet, accepting soul. At least here in Whisper Falls they had a roof over their heads that no one could take away. Eventually, things under that roof would be clean and tidy and hopefully, free of the past.

“I’m glad you came over. Really glad,” she started, twisting her hands on the back rung of a wooden chair. She was still amazed he’d returned after learning her identity. “I’ve been thinking about you.” Her face heated. “I meant I was reconsidering your offer.”

During the past few hours of bagging trash and scrubbing, she’d thought about Davis Turner. Beyond the fact that her skin sizzled when he’d smiled and her blood had hummed when she’d opened the door and found him standing there again. She wasn’t too happy about noticing him so much, but she did need his help.

“I could use your expertise. I have a little money put aside. Not a lot but enough to address the most important needs of the house.” She bunched her shoulders, aware of the knot forming at the base of her neck. She’d have a doozy of a muscle spasm if she wasn’t careful. “Other than covering the holes in some of the walls, I don’t know what those are.”

“I can look around, make a list, give you some advice if you think that would help.”

“Would you?”

“Sure. No problem. Got a pencil and paper handy?”

“Now?”

“No time like the present. That is, if now works for you.”

“Of course. Thank you. Now is perfect.” If she could find a piece of paper.

Feet pounded on the floor above their heads. Both adults raised their eyes toward the ceiling.

Lana was poignantly aware of the oddity of having Davis Turner in her house. He wouldn’t have been caught dead here as a teenager. He’d been a Christian, raised in church, the boy teachers and parents put on a pedestal as the way all teens should behave.

Lana Ross had been his antithesis.

“What are they doing?” Lana asked.

“Don’t know but that floor is solid or we’d be covered in ceiling plaster.” He flashed that smile, lighting up the dim room.

The man had a killer smile. And two kids. It suddenly occurred to her that he’d never mentioned a wife. But then, half the world was divorced. She supposed he was, too, or his wife would have accompanied him on this neighborly expedition.

Lana rummaged around in the kitchen drawers, not surprised to find a dusty pad and a scattering of stubby, round-point pencils. Mother had always kept them there.

Davis took the writing materials and rose. He was considerably taller than her, even in her high-heeled boots, and filled the narrow kitchen with his masculine presence. Her awareness factor elevated. Above the kitchen’s dust and must, he smelled of men’s spice—just the faintest whiff but enough for her foolish female nose to enjoy.

Focus on the mission. Think of Sydney.

Even if she hadn’t had a date in two years, Davis Turner was way out of her league.

They started through the house talking about the structure and basic needs, as well as noting cosmetic needs. After a bit, the kids came thundering down the stairs, a breathless chattering group that made Lana’s heart glad. Sydney’s happy face said it all. She’d made friends. Being back in this awful house just got easier.

“Can we go out in the backyard?” Paige asked. “Sydney said there was a cellar.”

The cellar. Like a giant vacuum, the word sucked the pleasure from the room. “Stay out of that cellar.”

Her sharp tone stopped the children in their happy tracks. “Why?” Nathan’s eyes widened. “Is it haunted?”

Lana rubbed her suddenly cold arms. She hated that cellar, hated the darkness, the damp musty odor and the creepy crawlies inside. “I haven’t cleaned it yet. Spiders, snakes, who knows what could be in there?”

“Eww. I don’t like spiders.” Paige shivered. “Can we go outside and play in the yard? Sydney said there’s an apple tree.”

Lana nodded. “Go on. Have fun but watch out for anything broken or dangerous. I haven’t explored out there yet.”

“Okay.”

With youthful energy, voices excited, the trio zipped out the back door, leaving it standing open, spilling the sunshine and cool, clean air of Indian summer inside. Lana didn’t bother to close it. She wanted to keep a watch on Sydney. Airing the house while the weather was favorable wasn’t a bad thing either.

“Your children are really sweet.”

“Thanks, so is yours. They’re great kids, though they can be a handful at times. Paige has, shall we say, ideas that sometimes lead her and her brother into trouble.”

Lana didn’t bother to correct his mistake. It was better for everyone if he and the town assumed Sydney was her child. “But Paige seems like such a nice little girl.”

“She is. I don’t mean that.” He hunkered down to look up into the fireplace. “Don’t light this until it’s been inspected and cleaned.”

“Okay. I heard noises up there. Probably birds.”

“Or bats,” he said with male matter-of-factness.

Lana crossed her arms as she gave the fireplace an uncertain look. “You would have to mention bats.”

“Bats won’t hurt you.”

“Remind me you said that when I’m in traction with a broken leg from running out of the room.”

He laughed at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling upward. “Tough Lana Ross afraid of a bat?”

He had no idea what he was talking about. She’d never been tough. She’d only pretended to be. “Don’t tell Sydney, okay? She thinks I’m fearless.”

He dusted his hands together. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming in from the window next to the big, old-fashioned brick fireplace. “My kids are the same. Nathan told one of his buddies I could pick up a house.”

“So what happened? Did the kid come over and ask for proof?”

“Naturally.”

“What did you do?”

“What else could I do?” His hands thrust out to each side. “I picked up the house.”

The silliness made her laugh. This was the Davis she remembered. Self-effacing, warm, kind to anyone. Even her. “Be glad he didn’t go for the ‘my dad can beat up your dad scenario.’”

“I remember saying that when I was in elementary school.”

“Like father like son?”

“Absolutely. But Paige is the same. Between the two of them, they slay me sometimes.” He leaned the notepad against the fireplace brick and scribbled something on the paper. “A few weeks ago, the kids and I went up to Whisper Falls on a picnic. I made the mistake of falling asleep.”

“What happened? Did they tie you to a tree? Douse you with water? Cover you with mayo?”

“Nothing that simple for those two. They climbed Whisper Falls.”

“No way!” Lana glanced out the grimy window at the two Turner children running across the thick brown grass. Whisper Falls was a long, slippery climb, especially for two small children. She should know. She’d climbed it plenty, usually on some stupid dare or when she’d had too much beer to be walking, much less climbing. “Why would they do that?”

“Paige says they went up there to pray. I suppose you’ve heard the rumor about praying behind the falls.”

“The moment I hit town, but it must be a new thing. No one said that when I lived here before. What started it?”

“I’m not sure. Some say Digger and Evelyn Parsons made up the story. Others say they’ve actually had prayers answered after going up there. Someone got the city council on board and they changed the name of the town to match the waterfall. Next thing we knew, tourists started making pilgrimages up the mountain.”

“Do you believe it’s true?” Because if it was, she was climbing those falls again. This time without a party—and stone cold sober.

“A rumor of that caliber is good PR, but I don’t think God needs a waterfall to answer prayers, do you?”

So, he was still a Christian.

“I agree, but maybe your daughter doesn’t.”

“Paige.” He huffed out a sound that was half frustration and half affection. “My daughter’s faith is kind of hard to explain. Sometimes she’s scary in the mature things she says about God. Other times she’s a goofy kid, like that day. My heart stopped when I looked up and saw Nathan clinging like a spider monkey to the side of the mountain.”

“What did you do?”

“What else could I do? I climbed up after them. Once we were on the ground, I hugged them, told them how scared I was and how much I loved them. Then I grounded them both from TV for a full week.”

Lana laughed. “You are a cruel father.”

“They thought so.” He stuck the stubby pencil in his shirt pocket and started across the room. His long legs ate up the floor, even though the parlor was large. “All the while, Nathan kept saying the oddest things.”

Lana followed his lead, taking a left down a dim hallway. “Such as?”

“Nothing specific. Random things about brown hair.” He tapped on the paneling, made a note of loose trim and a cracked light fixture.

“Sydney once asked me to dye her hair green, but that was for a costume party.” Lana opened the door to the downstairs bathroom, a small space with an old claw-foot tub.

“Nice.” Davis ran a hand along the rounded edge. He didn’t seem to mind that it was filthy. “Do you know what these sell for in today’s market?”

“If it’s more than a new one, this one is for sale.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve had old stuff all my life, Davis. All these antique fixtures can go for all I care.”

“I’ll check around. You might be able to make some money. Lots of people like authentic vintage.”

The idea heartened her. She and Sydney would make it here. She would find a way to turn this house into a home.

“Tell me about yourself, Lana,” he said, tapping the wall above the bathroom sink with his knuckles. “What happened to your singing career in Nashville?”

“You knew I lived there?”

“This is Whisper Falls. We hear everything. Usually, about five minutes after it happens.”

He was right, and the memory of a small, gossipy town was not a comfort. People would remember her teen years. People would gossip. All she could do was pray the talk didn’t harm Sydney. There would be enough speculation about her as it was.

“So what about Nashville?” He leaned forward to inspect the hot water tank. Other than being coated in dust and cobwebs, it worked. She knew that already.

“The usual, I guess. I thought I was a better singer than I am. But I had some great experiences.” Some lousy ones, too. “I sang for my supper, met some famous stars.” Usually at the hotel where she’d cleaned rooms, though she’d once encountered Faith Hill and Tim McGraw coming out of Banana Republic with their kids.

“I remember when you and your sister used to sing the national anthem at the football games. You were good. Where’s Tess living now?”

That was anyone’s guess. Under a bridge. In a crack house. But hopefully, in the same mission that had brought Lana to Christ. “She’s still in Nashville.”

The conversation was beginning to take an uncomfortable turn. Lana didn’t want to discuss Tess or Nashville for that matter.

“You’ve lived a glamorous life. Why come back to Whisper Falls?”

Glamorous? “Time to settle down. Sydney needs to be settled in one place, one school, and the music industry is not always a stable lifestyle. Anyway, it wasn’t for me.”

“I get that. My kids are everything. I’d walk on fire for them.”

“Or climb Whisper Falls?” Lana asked, surprised at the easy joke.

“Exactly.”

He opened the vanity cabinet. A dead mouse smell rushed out.

“Eww.” Lana grabbed her nose and backed out of the small space into the hallway. Davis, more resourceful, leaned over the tub to shove open a tiny window. Fresh air, spurred by the breeze, swirled inside, but the stench remained. Outside, an overgrown pine scraped against the screen, dropping pine needles without enough scent to matter.

Davis followed her out into the hall, pulling the door behind him. “Let that air a while.”

“Good idea. Maybe for a year.”

“If you’ve got a plastic bag, I’ll see if I can find and remove the source.”

In the narrow hallway, they were crowded. If either moved more than a few inches they would be touching. Rather, she’d be touching that work-muscled chest of his. A man who carried boxes of tile and grouting mud had to be strong.

“You’d do that?”

Davis didn’t seem to notice her discomfiture. He tilted his head, looking down at her while she looked up. “I work in remodels. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I find behind walls and under old cabinets.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shivered in pretend horror, though the ploy was more to get her mind off him than true repugnance. “I don’t think I want to know.”

After he had dispatched the mouse carcass, for which she would forever be grateful, they made their way on through the house. Lana watched in dismay as his list of repairs grew longer and longer.

By the time they’d worked the way back to the kitchen, the kids came flying through the back door, faces red and sweaty.

“We’re thirsty,” Sydney said. “I wish we had some pop.”

“Sorry, peanut. Water will have to do. It’s all we have.”

None of the trio looked all that thrilled with ordinary water but Lana scrubbed three glasses and filled them. They gulped it down and wiped hands across their faces.

Nathan, who was too cute for words, plunked his empty glass on the counter. Cheeks as red as a slap, he looked from Lana to Davis and said, “This is nice.”

Paige grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, Nathan.”

“Why? I want to see if Daddy and Lana are having fun, too.”

The little boy’s comment amused and touched her, too. He was having fun. He wanted his daddy to have a good time, too.

“Nathan,” Paige said urgently. “Let God do the work.” She put her fingers to her lips and twisted in the classic gesture of turning a key in a lock. Whatever the boy was about to say, his sister wanted him to be quiet.

Nathan opened his mouth as if to protest but then closed it again. “Okay.”

“Last one to the apple tree is a monkey’s uncle,” Paige said. And away they flew.

Lana cocked her head. “I wonder what that was all about.”

“With those two, don’t even ask.”

“I think they’re enjoying themselves,” she said. Thank you, Lord. Seeing Sydney carefree made the sacrifice of coming back to this town worth it.

“I wouldn’t mind a glass of that water myself.” Davis stuck his hands beneath the faucet and scrubbed. “I can wash my own glass.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Too late.” He stuck a glass beneath the spray and scrubbed. Then he filled and drank. With his hips leaning against the sink, he faced her. She could see he had something on his mind.

“Am I crazy for trying to live in this run-down old house?” she asked. “Is that what you’re about to say?”

“What? No. Most of this is cosmetic.” He waved a hand around in the air. “Structure is sound, plumbing is old but sturdy. Electrical box looks fairly new. Lots of work and a fair expenditure of money but livable.”

Lana drew a deep breath through her nose. The knot in her neck eased. As much as she wanted to do this on her own, she couldn’t. If she was alone, she wouldn’t care where she lived. But Sydney mattered. “You’re hired.”

“Don’t rush into anything. I’m pretty booked up right now with the holidays on the horizon, but I’ll run some figures for you, work up an estimate, talk to other contractors. Then we’ll need to talk budget.”

“Small.” She eased into a chair. “I want to do most of the work myself, but some of these things...” She shrugged.

“There you go, then. Start there. Take this list.” He handed her the tablet. “Figure out what you want to do yourself. Then sub out the rest to the experts. I can give you a list of those, too.”

“You’ve been a lot of help.”

“That’s what neighbors do.”

Neighbors? Really? Then where had they been years ago when she and Tess had needed them?

Chapter Four

The next evening after a long, fruitful day of work, Davis hurried up the sidewalk to his sister’s home to collect his children. Jenny had been, quite literally, a godsend after Cheryl’s death. A homeschooling, stay-at-home mom married to an accountant, she lived on the opposite side of town from Davis, which in Whisper Falls wasn’t that far. Located in a newer addition along the bluff overlooking the Blackberry River, the speckled brick house had an aboveground pool in the backyard, closed now for the season, and a massive play fort that kept his kids enthralled for hours.

He let himself inside his sister’s house which always smelled of candle scents and looked freshly polished. Every piece of furniture, every flower arrangement and picture was pristine. He marveled at how well Jenny managed with his kids and hers, including a son with health challenges, and two cocker spaniels.

“Anybody home?” he called, his usual announcement, and one that started the dogs barking.

“Daddy!” a joyful voice squealed. In seconds, Nathan came racing into the living room, a red superhero cape flying out behind him. He leaped into Davis’s arms and wrapped his legs around his daddy’s waist.

The weary workday melted away in the warm, exuberant little-boy hug from his son. His baby. The child he’d made with a woman he loved. He thanked God every day for his kids. They’d kept him sane when he’d wanted to curl into a ball and let go of life.

Though sometimes he still ached from the lonely spot Cheryl had left behind, he was a content man. Breathing deep, he held his son close to his chest, not caring that he was dirty and stained with grout. Life didn’t get any better than the love of his sweet little boy and girl.

Jenny came around the dining room divider, smiling as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. Blonde and almost as tall as he, his sister had continued to gain weight after twin boys were born seven years ago. He thought she looked okay, but Jenny worried about being fat and was on some kind of crazy diet more often than not.

“You look bushed,” she said. “Want to sit a while and have some tea?”

Davis shook his head. “Thanks, but no. Laundry to do tonight.”

“You got a minute then? I want to ask you about something.”

“Sure.” He shifted, repositioning Nathan onto his hip. The boy’s legs were starting to dangle like octopus tentacles, a sign he would soon be too big to leap into his daddy’s embrace. Davis wasn’t ready for that. “What’s up?”

“The kids told me Lana Ross has moved back into her family’s old house.”

“True.”

“They also said you’d been over to see her. Twice.” He could see his sister was not happy about his friendliness. Never one to keep her opinions to herself, if Jenny had something to say, she’d say it. Sometimes that propensity was a good thing, but not always.

“True, as well. Being neighborly.” He unwound Nathan’s arms and let him slide to the floor. “Go get your sister, bud. We gotta go.”

Jenny waited until Nathan skidded around the corner, spaniels in nail-tapping pursuit, before continuing. “Is Lana planning to stay in Whisper Falls?”

“I didn’t ask her, but she’s remodeling the Ross house. I figure that’s a sign she’s here for good.”

“You’re not going to get involved with that, are you?”

Her tone raised bristles on the back of his neck. “I might. Why?”

“Davis, don’t you remember Lana Ross at all? What she was? How she was always in trouble, always doing the worst possible things? Surely, you aren’t going to let your children associate with a woman like her.”

Davis sucked in a chest full of air and tilted back on his boot heels. Jenny was protective of him and his kids, especially since Cheryl’s death. Besides, hadn’t he thought the same things about Lana?

“Come on, Jen, that was years ago. Teenagers do crazy things but they grow up.”

“Maybe. But where has she been all this time? What has she been doing? Why would she come back here where everyone knows about her?”

“Maybe because she owns a house here?” he said with a hint of sarcasm, hands up and out. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t risk your children to find out. Stay clear of her, Davis. She’s a bad influence.”

“Sis. Come on. Chill out. This is not like you. Lana is new in town. Even though she was born here, she’s been gone for years. She’s in my neighborhood.”

“Which does not mean you have to associate with her. You have plenty of friends.” She put a hand on his arm in a gesture of concern, her eyes worried. “Keep a nice, safe distance. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Too late for that. Nathan and Paige like her and her little girl. They’re already begging to have Sydney to the house for a sleepover.”

Jenny’s head dropped backward as she gave an exasperated sigh. “That’s another thing. Lana has a child. I’ll bet you anything she isn’t married. If she’s like she was in high school, she probably doesn’t even know who the father is.”

Davis’s jaw tightened. He loved his sister and appreciated her help, but she was taking this too far. In a deceptively quiet voice, he said, “Passing judgment, are we, sis?”

Jenny’s chin went up. Her nostrils flared below pale eyes that arced fire. “Not in the least. Protecting our loved ones from harm is a Christian responsibility. Remember what Dad used to tell us about running with the wrong people? The Bible even warns against ‘casting your pearls before swine.’”

“Wait a minute. Stop right there.” She was starting to get under his skin. “Are you calling Lana a swine? You don’t even know her.”

“But I remember her. We had more than one run-in during high school.” Jenny twisted the towel as if wringing Lana’s neck. Or his. “I love your kids. I don’t want them exposed to alcohol and drugs and Lord only knows what else. Do you want them to have a reputation like those awful Ross sisters?”

“They’re in grade school, for crying out loud! Come on, Jenny. You’re being ridiculous.”

And she was making him uncomfortable. Hadn’t he struggled with these same, ugly thoughts yesterday? Yet, Lana and her little girl gave no sign of being anything but decent people. Even if they weren’t, didn’t God expect him to show grace and charity?

But he wanted to protect his children, too.

While brother and sister stared each other down and Davis wrestled with his thoughts, Nathan and Paige entered the room, followed by seven-year-old twins Charlie and Kent. The boys were apple-cheeked replicas of their dark-skinned father, though Charlie was smaller and wore a pallor lacking in his healthier sibling. Born with a heart defect, he’d had surgery soon after birth but he still took medication and had never been quite as vigorous as Kent. His condition was the main reason Jenny homeschooled. A valve replacement was in his near future, a fact that stressed the whole family, especially Jenny. Because of Charlie’s uncertain health, Davis felt for his sister, but she could make him crazy, too.

“Ready?” Davis asked, grateful for the interruption to the contentious conversation. He was a peacemaker. Arguments made him miserable. Besides, his sister had enough on her plate. He didn’t want to add to her worries by fighting over a woman neither of them knew that well.

But he was also a grown man, capable of making his own decisions and caring for his children. He didn’t need his baby sister’s dire warnings.

“Can we go see Sydney when we get home?” Nathan asked, presenting a cupcake smashed inside a Ziploc bag. “I saved her half of my cupcake.”

Jenny hissed, her glare burning a hole into her brother. “See?”

Davis ignored her. “That was really thoughtful of you, son.”

“Paige saved all of hers for Lana.” Nathan nodded sagely. “She has brown hair.”

“My cupcake! I almost forgot.” Paige clapped a hand against her forehead. “Wait a minute, Daddy, while I go get it.”

His little girl hurried out of the room.

Jenny rolled her eyes at Davis. “Nathan has mentioned brown hair several times today. He even drew a picture of a woman with brown hair. What is that about?”

Davis shrugged. “Couldn’t say. Why don’t you ask him?” He dropped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “What’s the deal, Lucille? Why are you suddenly obsessed with brown hair?”

“Because,” Nathan said, his voice exasperated as if Davis should understand. “Me and Paige prayed. God is going to send us a new mom with brown hair.”

“What?” Davis exchanged stunned glances with his sister. This did not sound good.

“Don’t you see, Daddy?” Nathan stretched his small arms wide, the smashed cupcake dangling in its bag. “After we prayed, Lana moved into the haunted house. Get it?”

A slow dawning broke through Davis’s thoughts. “Was that why you climbed up Whisper Falls? To pray for a new mom with brown hair?”

Nathan slapped a hand over his mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell. Paige says we have to let God do the work. We’re just His helpers.”

Davis squeezed the small shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

The kids had prayed. Lana Ross had moved in. She was single—and she had brown hair.

Naturally, their wild imaginations would take over and assume Lana was God’s answer.

He raised his eyes from his son’s dejected body to his sister’s face.

“This is already getting out of hand, Davis.”

He dragged a hand down his face and felt the rough dryness of tile glue still stuck to his fingers. “No kidding.”

Jenny touched his arm. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? You know what she is even if they don’t. These kids have been hurt enough.”

Davis’s belly took a nosedive.

How could he argue with that?

* * *

Lana drove through the quiet, lazy town of Whisper Falls—past the train depot in the center town circle, past the Tress and Tan Salon, Jessup’s Pharmacy, Aunt Annie’s Antiques, and nearly drooled at the delights in the window of the Sweets and Eats candy store. The town didn’t look as tired and run-down as it had when she’d left, when it had been Millerville.

“Look, Lana.” Sydney, on the passenger side of the car, whipped her head toward Lana, eyes widened. “Sorry. I meant Mom.”

Though Lana had been Sydney’s primary caregiver most of her life, she’d never usurped Tess’s title as Mom. Until now.

“You understand why it’s important that everyone believe you’re my daughter, don’t you, peanut?”

Sydney nodded. “So I don’t have to go to foster care.”

“That’s the gist of the matter. But if you slip up and say my name instead, we’ll just pretend that’s the way we do things. Okay?”

Pretending—or more accurately, lying—bothered Lana. She’d promised the Lord to change her bad habits but shading the truth was for Sydney’s protection. Surely, God would agree the end justified the means when a child’s well-being was on the line. Wouldn’t He?

Sydney nodded though her expression was worried. “I remember what happened in Nashville when that woman came to school and asked me all those questions about you and Mama and where we lived. I was real scared. I thought I might never see you again.”

Lana reached across the console to pat her niece’s knee, taking note that Sydney didn’t worry about the loss of her birth mother. She worried about losing the aunt who’d raised her. “I know, baby. That’s why we’re here now. Nobody is going to take you away. Not ever.”

“You won’t let them, will you?”

“No.” Not as long as I have breath in my body and legs that can run.

Because of Tess’s constant run-ins with the law, the child protective agency had investigated Sydney’s living situation. The interview at school had been a warning to Lana that she might lose Sydney if she didn’t take action. So she had. With her own less-than-stellar background, she feared social services would reject her as well as Tess—the reasons she and Sydney had come to Whisper Falls, the one place Lana had never wanted to see again.

“I didn’t mean to tell my teacher about living in the car. It just kind of slipped out when she asked about making a fire escape plan for our house.”

“It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re going to have a good, good life in Whisper Falls.” No matter what it takes.

“Are we having Christmas here?”

“Christmas?” Lana said, laughing softly. “We’re barely into November.”

“But look.” Sydney’s nail-gnawed fingertip pecked against the passenger window.

City workers high on the “cherry picker” lifts normally used to change streetlights, strung Christmas decorations across the short five-block main street. Christmas. She was always amazed how quickly the holiday arrived once October slipped away. With Thanksgiving on the horizon, Christmas, and winter, would be upon them before she could get the house in shape.

Unless she enlisted considerable assistance.

Her thoughts flashed to Davis Turner. He’d actually made her feel welcome as if her ugly reputation wasn’t dancing around inside his head. As if she would be accepted in her old hometown.

He’d given her hope.

With Sydney jabbering about Christmas and wondering if Paige would be in her class at school, Lana drove through town, turning down a side street and into a residential area that led to the school. A long, low, redbrick complex of buildings and facilities, the school had grown considerably since her days of skipping class to smoke in the gym locker room.

But Jesus had wiped her slate clean. All she had to do was convince the rest of the world she’d changed.

Tall order.

She parked the car and went inside the elementary school, holding Sydney’s hand. Lana’s own palm sweated, though the temperature wasn’t overly warm as they stepped through the door marked Principal. Memories flashed. Detentions, threats, suspensions. Her own smirks and bad attitude. Not in this particular office, but in others like it.

Lord, she’d been a nightmare.

“May I help you?”

The woman behind the reception desk looked familiar. Lana glanced at the nameplate. Wendy Begley.

Choosing her words carefully, Lana said, “My little girl needs to enroll in third grade.”

Wendy turned her attention to Sydney with a smile. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Sydney Ross, ma’am. Are you the principal?”

“No, honey. The principal is up in the high school right now. I’m the secretary.” Her eyes lifted to Lana. “I thought I recognized you. Lana Ross, right? Or is it Tess?”

“Lana.”

“I don’t know if you remember me. I was a few years behind you in school but I remember you and your sister, the infamous Ross girls.” She gave a soft chuckle that held no rancor. “I used to be Wendy Westerfeld. Married Doug Begley. You remember him, don’t you? His daddy owned the car wash. We have it now that Gordon retired.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Lana did her best to appear bland and polite but inwardly she cringed. She remembered Doug all right. He’d been a party to a few of her self-destructive moments. “Do we need to fill out some paperwork to get Sydney enrolled?”

“Do you have her records from the other school?”

“Uh, no. We, uh, I—homeschooled her. We moved around a lot with my job.” Liar, liar. Forgive me, God. “I have her shot record and birth certificate, though.”

Before the other woman could inquire more deeply, Lana handed over the records.

Wendy took the documents to a file cabinet where she extracted a folder and a packet of papers. “Here is the enrollment packet. The paperwork is lengthy so you can take the whole packet home if you’d like and send it back with Sydney tomorrow.”

Lana accepted the thick stack, thankful for the relaxed manner of a small-town school. Trusting and nice, and oh, she wanted to be worthy of both those things. “Sounds good. Thank you.”

“All I need today is this top form of contact info, emergency numbers, that kind of thing. Will she be riding the bus?”

“We live in town. I’ll drive her.”

Wendy made a notation on the form. “Cafeteria or bringing her lunch?”

“Cafeteria for now. How much money does she need?”

Wendy named the amount and Lana paid for the week, relieved that the enrollment was going so well. She held her breath while the secretary made a copy of Sydney’s birth certificate without so much as a glance at the parent’s name and slid the copy into a folder.

One hurdle down.

Afterward, Wendy walked them down a long hallway decorated in happy primary colors and motivational bulletin boards to one of the third-grade classrooms to meet Sydney’s new teacher.

With a final hug, Sydney hitched her Hello Kitty backpack and disappeared into the classroom. As the frosty-haired teacher closed the door, Wendy said, “Mrs. Pierce is a wonderful veteran teacher. Sydney will love her class.”

“She’s kind of shy.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Lana’s boot heels tapped against the white tile floor as they headed back toward the office. “You have children?”

“Four of the little boogers. Two, six, eight and ten.” Wendy laughed. “That adorable two-year-old snuck up on us.”

Lana laughed, too, relieved and grateful to Wendy Begley for her easy, welcoming demeanor. The school had chosen their secretary well.

She was beginning to think her return to Whisper Falls would not be as difficult as she’d imagined when another woman stepped into the office.

“Here’s our principal now,” Wendy said as she regained her desk chair. “Ms. Chester, do you remember Lana Ross? She just enrolled her daughter in third grade.”

“Lana,” the woman said coolly, slowly turning on black, shiny pumps, her suit the color of eggplant and her eyes as frosty as January. “How...interesting to see you again. What brings you back to this dull little mountain town?”

Lana’s confidence, buoyed first by Davis’s kindness and then Wendy’s, now wilted like a daisy in the snow. She barely remembered this woman but clearly she’d been judged and found wanting.

The trouble was, she couldn’t argue. She was as guilty as charged.

* * *

Lana left the school feeling lower than a snake’s belly. Her fingers itched for her guitar and a chance to let the music melt away the disquiet in her chest. But she couldn’t today. Today she had her first face-to-face meeting with her new boss, Joshua Kendle.

She drove to the newspaper office, past more of the quaint, picturesque mountain town she’d once wanted to escape. Even now, the need to run pressed in. Sometimes she was ashamed because the desire to get dog drunk and escape her problems almost overwhelmed her. Only the thought of how far she’d come, of how much God had done for her, and of Sydney, kept her straight and sober.

As she parked at an angle in front of the newspaper office, her hands trembled against the steering wheel. She took out her phone and punched in the speed dial number to Amber, her counselor at the mission in Nashville. After a brief conversation and prayer, she stepped out of the car with renewed courage. She’d come too far to turn back now.

Assailed by the scent of bacon, she spotted Marvin’s diner, a familiar old haunt tucked in between the dry cleaners and an antique shop across the street from the Gazette, and smiled. Not everything in Whisper Falls had been bad. She could do this.

Head up, shoulders back, she marched through the half-windowed door into the Gazette. Immediately, the wonderful bacon smell gave way to printer’s ink and old-fashioned type set that harkened to days gone by. The Gazette, it seemed, had yet to enter the full digital age.

“Morning. May I help you?” A short, potbellied man with sleeves rolled back on thick arms and wearing a backward baseball cap rounded a counter. He was probably in his early forties.

“I have an appointment with Joshua Kendle.”

“You must be Lana.” He scraped a hand down the leg of his faded jeans. “I’m Joshua. Welcome. You ready to get to work?”

Her shoulders relaxed at his affable warmth. “Ready. What do I do first?”

“Come meet the rest of the staff and then I’ll show you the ropes.” He took her through the back where several cubicles were set up with computers and introduced her to the small group of employees, including his wife, a heavyset blonde with big hair and a gold print scarf. “Hannah is the brains of the outfit. She handles the classifieds and subscriptions.”

As Lana met the others, she relaxed more. No one here seemed to remember the awful Ross girls, or if they did, they didn’t care.

After the introductions, Joshua led the way to his desk crammed inside a tiny, messy office and got down to business, explaining Lana’s duties and her pay-per-article salary. “Hannah gathers an events list from the schools, churches, civic groups, and posts it on the computer and out front on the bulletin board. You can access it yourself from home if you want. Attend as many of them as you can, write up a report, email it to me. I’ll edit and proof and let you know if I have questions. Pick up your check every other Friday.”

“That sounds too easy.” Even if she hadn’t written a full page of anything other than songs in years.

“You grew up in Whisper Falls, right?”

How did he know that? He wasn’t a native. “Except it was Millerville back then.”

“Your local knowledge should come in handy.” Joshua didn’t appear to be in a rush, but he moved and spoke quickly as if always on a deadline. Which in fact, he probably was. “This job will put you in contact with practically everyone in town at some point. It is a great way for you to get reacquainted.”

She’d considered that, although she hadn’t seen it as an advantage. Joshua might know she was a Whisper Falls native but apparently he knew little else. Thank goodness.

“You got a camera?”

“Only an old used one. The pictures are pretty good.”

“That’ll work. Simon is our staff photographer but he can’t be everywhere. I use photos from anyone who’ll send them in, so if you see something picture-worthy, take a shot, add a caption and email it to me. I’ll go from there. If I use it, you get paid.”

Awesome. “Okay.”

“Good.” He dug around in the mess of papers on his desk and pulled out a sheet. “Here you go. Friday night. Football play-offs. Give the kids a good write-up, mention lots of names so we can keep the mamas and daddies buying newspapers.”

She wanted to ask how she was supposed to know who was who but held back. She needed this job. Any show of uncertainty on her part could kill the deal before she had a chance.

“I need the article by Saturday morning to make the Sunday edition. Can you do it?”

The offer, like the man, came fast and immediate. She hadn’t been as ready as she’d let on. She’d planned to take some time and study back editions of the Gazette, to check out library books on writing.

But Joshua was waiting for her answer now.

She stuck her phone in her back pocket and tossed her hair with a fake smile. “Sure. First thing Saturday morning.”

She’d write that article if she had to sit up all Friday night to do it.

Chapter Five

As Davis stood in the tool aisle at the Whisper Falls Hardware Store, he faced a dilemma. He was there buying a blade for his tile saw, a frequent expense, but he’d noticed Lana Ross leaving the store with two buckets of paint right after he’d arrived. Since the day he’d made a repair list inside her old two-story, he’d been thinking of his promise to help. He’d also been troubled by his sister’s warning against getting too friendly with his new neighbor, especially since Nathan and Paige had some wild idea about matchmaking between him and Lana.

Brown hair. Good grief.

“That you, Turner?”

Davis swiveled to look at the newcomer, Pete Abernathy, a burly frame carpenter. They’d played football together in high school and frequently crossed paths in the construction business. “How you doing, Pete?”

“Good. Did you just see what I saw?”

“What was that?”

“Lana Ross. I heard she was back, but who would guess she’d look that good. Man! Eye candy.” Pete smacked his tongue against his teeth, tsking. “You live close to the old Ross place, don’t you? Did she move back in there?”

Irritation, like a gnat around the nose, buzzed along Davis’s nerves endings. “Yep.”

“I bet things are hopping around your neighborhood now.”

“Not that I’ve noticed. She’s a quiet neighbor.”

“No way. Luscious Lana and her twin quiet? They were party central.”

“That was a long time ago, Pete.” His defense of Lana was starting to sound like an instant replay. And he wasn’t even sure he was right. “So far, no parties. Just a lot of work on that run-down house.”

“I heard she’s single. No boyfriend. No husband. That true?”

“As far as I know.”

“A shame. A woman like that alone. Figure she could use some expert advice from a willing man?” His tone indicated he wasn’t discussing the Ross house.

Davis turned a cool gaze on the man. “Does your wife know you talk that way about other women?”

“Loosen up, dude. I didn’t mean nothing by it. People talk. She’s got a kid. I figured she’s still a party girl.” Flushing red, Pete yanked a saw blade from the rack and stalked away.

Davis watched him storm off, saw him muttering to the checker and suspected either he or Lana was the likely topic of conversation. With a sigh, he reached for an extra blade and headed to the checkout himself.

It didn’t seem right that people would assume the worst about anyone, especially a woman they hadn’t seen since the teen years. Sure, she’d been wild and crazy, but so had a lot of kids back then. Lana and Tess were known as the ringleaders, the party girls, always looking for trouble, but they never had to look far. There were plenty ready to run with them. Davis leaned toward a different crowd and had kept his nose clean for a couple of reasons. He’d been a Christian or had tried to be. He sure hadn’t been perfect, but he’d wanted a scholarship. He hadn’t gotten it and after a semester of barely making ends meet at college, he had ended up joining his dad’s tile business. Much as the rejection had hurt when he was eighteen, he was content with his life today. For the most part.

On the drive to Jenny’s to pick up the kids and then all the way home, he fumed over the conversation with Pete. For all he knew, Pete was right about Lana, and if people were already talking, her reintroduction to Whisper Falls might prove bumpy.

None of which was Sydney’s fault. The little girl had crossed the street yesterday and invited his kids to play. She was a pretty thing, with bright eyes the color of the Hawaiian ocean and a sweet, gentle smile. He’d refused her request, using homework as an excuse.

He stole a glance in the rearview mirror at the kids in the backseat, heads together, focused on a handheld video game. Electronic zings and zaps mingled with their happy giggles. How would he feel if the neighbors snubbed them?

He was letting the opinions of others determine his actions when, in truth, Lana and Sydney had given him no reason to avoid them.

He was as big a jerk as Pete Abernathy.

As he turned down Dogwood Street into his neighborhood, he spotted the woman occupying his thoughts. His chest clenched. He ran a hand down the front of his T-shirt, pushing at the uncomfortable feeling.

In a pair of old jeans with one knee torn out and the hems frayed above white tennis shoes, Lana was standing on a ladder sweeping leaves from the gutters. One end of the gutter hung loose. A mishmash of building supplies was scattered on the porch.

Instead of turning toward his house, he pulled into Lana’s driveway and got out. Both his kids hopped out, chattering like chipmunks.

When the car doors slammed, Lana turned her head. The brown hair that mesmerized his son was pulled back in a tail and held with a skinny red headband.

“Looks like you’ve got gutter problems,” he called. Not exactly scintillating conversation but an easy opening.

“I hope not.” She frowned and glanced back to the roofline. “You think so?”

“Maybe not. If you’ll come down I’ll take a look.”

“Would you?”

“Sure.”

She was already backing down the ladder.

As he took her place, she said, “I’m trying to learn as much as I can about this remodeling business, but it’s a sharp learning curve.”

He squinted down at her. “YouTube?”

Her mouth curved. “How did you guess?”

“I’ve gone there myself a few times. There’s some good advice and some really bad advice. Be careful.” He tugged at the loose strip of gutter.

“What do you think?”

“The hangers need to be replaced but the fascia wood is in good shape.”

“Are they expensive?”

“Under ten bucks apiece. An easy fix.”

“Whew.” Her face was tilted upward, so he was staring down at dark mink eyelashes that reached all the way up to equally dark eyebrows, the smooth, pretty curve of her neck and her full lips. “That’s a relief. So far, it’s the only thing less expensive than I’d hoped.”

“What have you gotten done so far?”

“If you have a minute, I’ll show you.”

Davis twitched a shoulder. “Okay.” He turned to tell the kids, but they’d heard and were already on the porch, ready to barge in. “Hey, you two. Slow down,” he said coming down from the ladder.

“Is Sydney home? Can she play?”

“She’s inside doing homework.”

“Which is where you two munchkins should be,” Davis said, grabbing them both in a headlock from the back.

“Da-ad!”

“Please, Daddy, can we play for a minute while you talk to Lana?” She measured with her thumb and finger. “One teeny-weeny minute?”

“We can’t stay long,” he warned.

Taking that as a yes, they barreled inside and up the staircase, thundering like prairie buffalo.

“Sydney!” he heard Paige yell.

Lana laughed as they, too, went inside. “I’m beat from battling this house all day and they still have energy to run.”

“Remodeling is a big job.” He looked around the living room. “Nice. I didn’t expect you to have the walls covered already.”

She’d not only painted the ugly green walls and ceilings, she’d scrubbed the windows and fireplace and tossed sheets over the old furniture. The room was, at least, now livable.

Next to the fireplace, an acoustic guitar leaned against the wall, classic Lana. He remembered how good her voice had been. Anyway, she’d impressed their small town.

“I couldn’t stand the graffiti,” she was saying. “Some of the writing wasn’t exactly family fare. I didn’t want Sydney to read it.”

“I hear that.” And he liked it, too. If she didn’t approve of rough language, she had changed. “The color is nice. Sort of a pale chocolate milk.”

“I still have to paint the wood trim. What do you think of white enamel all around?”

“White’s always nice. A good accent to the soft brown.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but the trim will have to wait until the true basics are done. Time has taken a toll on a lot of things, and the vandals didn’t improve matters.”

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