Reviews

"THE COMEBACK GIRL (4) highlights Debra Salonen's skillful storytelling. Realistic issues, imperfect yet textured characters and high energy make this conclusion to Those Sullivan Sisters trilogy a winner."

—Pamela Cohen, Romantic Times

"Anyone who enjoys a warmly written tale that highlights the strength of love between a mother and son will want to read The Comeback Girl. Ms. Salonen’s appealing tale about a second chance at love with the one you left behind is like a diamond in the rough, shinning brightly to lead the way for many. It’s a book not to be missed. Be sure to have a new box of tissues ready, because you will need them all by the time you get to the end of this one. I know I did."

—Diana Tidlund, Reviewer, Writers Unlimited

"Author Debra Salonen concludes her Those Sullivan Sisters series with an evocative tale in THE COMEBACK GIIRL. ... A richly textured novel of surprising complexity and emotional depth, THE COMEBACK GIRL comes very highly recommended."

—Cindy Penn, Senior Editor, WordWeaving.com

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Aug. 22, 2001, Wednesday
Fresno, CA, Fresno/Yosemite International Airport

Kristin Sullivan hated airports.

"Where is he?" she asked, scanning the phalanx of travelers headed toward the baggage area. No lanky pre-teen with white-blond hair in the crowd.

"He’ll be here," her sister Andi said. "I spoke with Moira this morning. She said he boarded the plane in Chicago without a problem."

Kristin had debated the wisdom of sending her son to spend a month with her cousin in the Midwest, but Zach had begged to go. And it seemed a good idea not to have around while she packed their belongings in Ashland, Oregon, and unpacked in Gold Creek, California. He’d been adamantly opposed to the move.

"Let me keep him all summer," Moira had suggested. "He can go to camp in northern Minnesota with my boys. You know we love Zach to pieces, and you’ve got your hands full with the move and getting re-acquainted with your family."

The move. After a decade-plus "on the lam"—as some people in town so snidely put it—Kristin Sullivan had returned home three weeks ago. To Gold Creek, an historic gold rush town in California’s Central Sierras where she’d spent her first eighteen years.

"They probably stuck him in the last row," a second voice said.

Both of Kristin’s sisters had insisted on accompanying her to the airport. Andi—Andrea Sullivan Newhall—sat on a low bench backed by greenery. Jenny Sullivan O’Neal stood nearby, absently pushing a stroller containing her twins, Lara and Tucker, back and forth. The babies had fallen asleep on the hour and a half ride from the mountains to this sprawling metropolis in the Central Valley.

Kristin squinted toward the security gate that led to the airplanes. A young man toting a backpack strolled toward them. He wasn’t Zach.

"The plane stopped in L.A. What if he got off and didn’t bother getting back on?" she asked, her nervousness escalating.

The four months prior to Zach’s departure had been a strained period where Kris and her son were concerned. Ever since she’d broken the news to him about his father and her family, Zach had distanced himself from her. Normally a straight-A student—so bright he’d skipped a grade, Zach had let his schoolwork fall off to the point where he’d needed to spend six weeks in a summer tutorial in order to pass into the seventh grade. This had necessitated postponing their move from Oregon—which her sisters agreed was his intention.

Jenny knelt to wipe a river of drool from Tucker’s chin. The twins would turn one year old next week and had several new teeth to prove it.

"There he is," Andi said, hopping to her feet. Although five months pregnant, Andi still ran several miles a day.

She pointed toward the second wave of travelers moving their direction.

Kristin’s heart did a doubt-take. "Oh my gosh. He’s grown a foot." So tall, so handsome. So belligerent. Even from a distance she could tell that a month apart hadn’t improved Zach’s disposition.

He’d made his feelings clear from that day in March when she introduced him to her family. Since then, they’d been back several times to participate in family get-togethers and to visit Ida Jane—Kristin’s eighty-three year old great-aunt who had suffered a stroke. Ida Jane was the one person in the family Zach seemed to like.

By the time he reached them, Kris’ heart was beating so fast she couldn’t feel her extremities. She couldn’t work up the spit to speak.

"Nice nose ring," Andi said, breaking the ice. "Got a bull to go with it?"

Zach acknowledged the teasing remark with a droll sneer, then he glanced briefly at the twins before looking at his mother.

"So. I’m here. Now what?"

Kristin wished she had an answer, but like so many times in her life, she’d leaped without looking ahead. She’d returned home prepared to face the mistakes she’d made in the past, to try to heal some old wounds and to help care for Ida Jane—the only mother the triplets had ever known. She’d taken them in when they’d been orphaned at birth had made them the primary focus of her life. Now Kris planned to be at Ida’s side for as long as her aunt needed her. How Zach would adjust to the move remained to be seen.

* * *

Donnie Grimaldo reread the opening line of the official-looking letter. "The Associate Administrator for Civil Aviation Security is pleased to inform you that your application for employment with the Federal Aviation Administration’s Federal Air Marshal Program has been approved."

It was official. He’d made the cut. He’d read somewhere that after September 11, more than one hundred thousand people had applied to the Federal Air Marshal Program. Obviously, he wasn’t the only patriot looking for a way to contribute to his country.

"Donnie," a voice hollered across the open, mostly messy common room of the Gold Creek Sheriff’s Department. "Where’s the dang paper for the dang copier? When I find the person who moved it..."

Housed in a building that some said made a Quonset hut look stylish, the office supported six full-time deputies, the Sheriff and three part-time dispatchers/clerks. Bethany Murdock—the person grumbling at him—was the department’s "deputy in training"—a position Donnie had held a dozen or so years earlier, while in high school. Serious to the point of glum Beth was the kind of person who would rearrange the world if someone gave her permission.

"I think we’re out, Beth," Donnie said, rising. After tucking his letter under a stack of reports, he fished the key to the storage room out of his pocket. "I meant to grab another ream on my way past this morning. Slipped my mind."

She advanced on him with a look that reminded him of his ex-wife when she was in one of her moods. Sandy carried a grudge like most women carried a purse. Donnie tossed the key ring in the air—partly to test Beth’s reflexes and partly to keep her from getting too close. She wore a fragrance he associated with Kristin Sullivan—his first love. Kris had returned to Gold Creek amid a flurry of gossip and speculation, and he’d been trying his best to avoid her. He didn’t need his olfactory memories complicating the issue.

"Your mother called while you were on the phone with that State guy," Bethany said. "And your ex called, too. Jeesch. Where in my job description does it say answering service?" She caught the key ring with both hands.

At seventeen, Beth possessed a gawkiness he found mildly charming—it too reminded him of Kristin, but Beth’s attitude was more like that of Kristin’s sister, Andi, who was married to Jonathan Newhall, publisher of the Gold Creek Ledger. Andi was a pal; Jenny, the third of the Sullivan triplets, was a good friend, too. Too bad Kris and I can’t be...

He didn’t finish the thought. Why bother mending fences when he was leaving town?

"Did either of them leave a message?" he asked, ignoring the girl’s grousing.

"Your mother said to call her if you had a minute. Sandy was more...um..." She fiddled with the keys.

Donnie gave her credit for trying to find a diplomatic way of saying his ex-wife was a witch on the phone. "Strident?" he supplied with a smile.

"If you say so." She shrugged. Her thin shoulders lifted the stiff uniform shirt that she wore with denim jeans in a sort of Don Knotts way. Beth was one of the few bright spots in his job. She was brash and testy at time, but eager to learn. She reminded Donnie of himself at that age—before the real world intruded.

Donnie’s idealism hadn’t disappeared overnight. It had taken two elections—two terms under Sheriff Magnus Brown’s so-called leadership—to grind it out of him.

He returned to his desk intending to give his mother a call when a buzzer sounded, alerting him to the arrival of someone at the bulletproof glass entrance.

"I’ll get the window. You get the paper," he told Bethany. "Those copies need to go out ASAP."

Donnie was still two steps away from the glass partition when he caught a glimpse of the person waiting. Tousled blond curls and a sweetly compact body in a lime-green sundress. Oh, Lord. Not today.

He braced himself to greet his former high school sweetheart. The winsome, slightly scatter-brained beauty who’d broken his heart.

Kristin Sullivan was standing with her back to the window as if preparing to flee. It wouldn’t be the first time. That’s what she did when things got hairy—she ran.

He pushed the microphone button to be heard past the glass. "Kristin."

She jumped as if poked. When she spun around, her blue eyes were wide with surprise.

"Um...hi, Donnie," she said, stepping close to the small circular portal that housed a microphone. "I didn’t expect you to come to the window. You’re a captain now, right?"

He was the top ranked deputy thanks to his years on the force and his schooling, but Sheriff Magnus Brown didn’t share power easily. In Gold Creek’s Sheriff’s Department, the glass ceiling was made of iron. "We don’t go in much for titles around here. When everyone else is at lunch or out on calls, I still answer the phone and greet people. What can I do for you?"

She held up her hands. Small, white and lovely. He’d always loved to hold her hand.

"You need a pair of hand cuffs?" he asked, trying to keep things light.

Her sunny grin was one that anyone in town could have identified in a line up. As a child, she’d been a favorite of the old men at the barbershop, who tolerantly emptied their pockets of change any time those Sullivan girls came by.

"Fingerprints," she said. "I was told I needed to have them on file in order to complete my business license. Can you believe that? It’s so twenty-first century."

He knew what she meant. Change came slowly to Gold Creek, but it came. Especially lately. His old nemesis, Tyler Harrison, reportedly was buying up property all over town. And according to the grapevine, Ty had big plans in mind—perhaps even a strip mall.

Donnie wondered what Kristin thought of that development. After all, Ty was the father of her son.

"I believe Margie does those on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Donnie said, trying to picture the schedule he’d seen posted in the crime lab.

Kristin’s face fell. "Oh. Okay. I’ll come back next week."

If today had been Wednesday instead of Friday, he might not have opened his mouth, but he could tell she was disappointed to have to wait. "If you need it right away, I could probably help you. I used to handle all the bookings before Margie took it over."

"Really? I’d appreciate it, but I don’t want to put you out. If you’re busy." She seemed sincere, and Donnie knew she was. One thing about Kristin Sullivan, she didn’t fake her feelings. He’d only known her to lie once—about the reason she left town, and even that was more a sin of omission than a flat-out lie.

"Step to the door. I’ll buzz you in. You’re not packing, are you?"

She blinked in confusion. "Packing?"

"A gun." He said it with a smile to show he was joking.

She tossed her head with a laugh. Her blond curls danced beneath the dull florescent lighting like a child playing in the park on a sunny summer day. "Of course not. I thought you meant a picnic lunch, and I was immediately sorry I hadn’t...not that you would...never mind."

She rushed to the door, but Donnie took his time pushing the button. He could only see part of her face from this angle. The rosy shade of pink was a color he’d forever associate with the first time he kissed her. God, he’d loved her back then.

Kristin had loved him, too. But as a college Freshman, Donnie discovered a world filled with temptations. He did the honorable thing—he broke up with her so they were both free to play the field. But he’d never expected Kristin to wind up with Tyler Harrison in the back seat of her great aunt’s Caddie.

Too bad she didn’t..., he let the thought go and pushed the button.

He took a deep breath then yanked open the door. Six inches shorter than his five-eleven and hardly an ounce over a hundred pounds, Kristin looked closer to Bethany’s age than Donnie’s. His birthday and the triplet’s were exactly seven months apart to the day, and he’d turned thirty last month.

"Welcome home, by the way," he said to break the ice. "I don’t think I’ve seen you since you moved back—except at Jenny’s wedding. And that was a little crazy."

To the family’s dismay, Tyler Harrison had shown up at the Rocking M ranch where Sam O’Neal and Jenny Sullivan O’Neal were holding their wedding reception. He’d demanded to talk to Kristin. Donnie and several of Sam’s friends, including his lawyer, had managed to diffuse the situation. Harrison had left without seeing Kristin.

"That freaked me out," Kris said. "I’d convinced myself I would have time to handle things more diplomatically." She sighed. "But how diplomatic can you be when telling a man about a child you kept secret for nearly eleven years?" She threw up her hands in a manner that told him she didn’t expect an answer to her question.

"Have you and Ty talked about it since then?" he asked and immediately wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to know about her troubles or any paternity battle that might be brewing. He hadn’t even met her kid yet, but word had it the boy had spent the summer with relatives back east.

She moved her shoulders negligibly. "Our lawyers are talking. Finally. Apparently Ty has been in Japan on business and just got back. At least that’s what his mother told Beulah Jensen who told Ida Jane who told me," she said with a rueful smile.

Donnie thought he heard nervousness in her voice. Not surprising. By all reports Tyler Harrison was now a man of wealth and power. Donnie didn’t envy Kris in the least.

Good thing I’m leaving, he thought. He was a sucker for the underdog in any battle, and the last thing Kristin needed was Donnie’s interference in her life.

"Second door on the right," he said, nodding down the hall. It would have been all too easy to take her elbow and lead the way, but he’d learned a few things over the years and how to maintain emotional distance was one of them.

"Take a seat. As long as we’re doing this, I might as well get our high school protégé in here to learn the process." And help diffuse any residual tension, he silently added.

She opened her mouth as if to ask him something but closed it and smiled. "Great."

Donnie hurried to the office area where he found Bethany loading paper into the copy machine. "Have you done fingerprinting before?"

She finished aligning the paper and closed the plastic latch before looking at him. "Twice. Why? You got a criminal to book?"

He recognized the gleam in her eyes. Police work was ninety per cent boring. The younger you were, the more you coveted the ten per cent. Donnie couldn’t fault her, though. Wasn’t that why he was hell bent on leaving? For the excitement?

"Nope. Sorry. Just a business license."

"We only do those on Tuesdays and Thursdays." Her tone reminded him of his ex-wife again. No one messed with Sandy’s routine...or else.

"It’s either that or filing. Personally, I’d choose just about anything over the tombs—we lost a clerk back there once, you know," he teased. "The kid went in and never came out." Her reluctant smile made him wink. "And it is our job to serve the public."

She let out a weighty sigh. "Is she pretty?"

The question stopped him cold. "Who?"

"The fingerprint person."

"What makes you think it’s a she?"

Bethany made a snuffling sound he recognized as a universal sound of teenagers. "You’re a guy, and I guarantee if the person was a sixty-year old man with loose dentures you’d be back at your desk."

Donnie chuckled. "I’ll tell Mr. Groipe you said so."

Her eyes went big. Albert Groipe was the principal of Gold Creek High.

"She’s pretty," Donnie said, letting her off the hook. "She’s also an old friend. Promise you won’t rat on me, okay? I don’t want to be accused of showing favoritism to my cronies."

Her eyes narrowed with a suspicious look that reminded him of Lucas. Strange. I used to be good with kids.

* * *

Kristin Sullivan paced the confines of the small room as if it were a cell. She honestly hadn’t expected to see Donnie. Not that it was any big deal. They were adults and she’d known they would run into each other from time to time. This was Gold Creek, after all. Population three thousand nine hundred and twenty. Make that twenty-two.

She used the few minutes that it took him to find the student helper to piece together what she knew of Donnie’s history since their inglorious break-up. The day after high school graduation, she’d taken off for Ireland where she’d planned to serve as a nanny. She hadn’t seen Donnie at the ceremony, although she’d heard that he was present, accompanied by Sandy Grossman—the girl whose locker had been next to his all through high school. Kristin had always sensed Sandy’s interest in Donnie, but he wasn’t the flirtatious type. He was a one-woman man.

He’d certainly proven that the whole time they’d dated—from homecoming her freshman year until he broke up with her midway through her senior year. She’d understood his reasons for breaking up. College had presented a whole slew of temptations, and Donnie was honest about what he wanted in life—new places and new faces. Unfortunately, in her immature attempt to make him regret his decision...

Kris pushed the thought aside. Self-recrimination was a waste of time. If she wanted a guilt trip all she needed to do was talk to her son. A child who’d gone from little angel to demon spawn almost over night.

"Kristin, this is Bethany Murdock," Donnie said leading a small, skinny girl with wiry hair and poorly disguised acne into the room. "Her dad runs West Coast Auto Parts. Her mom’s a photographer. Didn’t she take the pictures at Jenny’s wedding, Beth?"

The girl grunted. She looked five or six years older than Zach, but they apparently shared the same language. Kris’s greeting was acknowledged with a nod.

"Get a print sheet, Beth, while I find the ink pad and some tissues."

Kris’s heart rate went up a notch when he moved to her side, a wad of stiff towelettes in hand. "I haven’t done this for awhile," he said, "but I think I can remember how. They say you never forget." His tone was pleasant, no innuendo implied.

She kept her arms at her side to avoid touching him accidentally. Despite his genial manner, it wouldn’t pay to act too friendly. They had enough water under their bridge to drown an elephant. She’d seen Donnie a few times over the years. At Josh’s funeral. Her brother-in-law—Jenny’s first husband—had succumbed to cancer just a few hours after the twins were born. And last spring Donnie had been instrumental in helping Andi’s husband, Jonathan, clear his name after Jon was accused of murder. But this was her first sustained conversation with Donnie since she’d come home to live.

"So, tell me about yourself, Donnie. What’s new?" she asked, anxious to keep some kind of conversation going. "I heard you and Sandy got married about a year or so after I left, right?" His grunt sounded like a confirmation.

"Sorry to hear about the divorce. Ida told me Sandy married a movie star or something." His friendly smile went flat. Bethany shot her a scathing look of silent reprimand.

"He builds sets for a production company."

"Oh," Kris said, her nervousness growing. "You have a son, don’t you? A couple of years younger than Zach."

"Lucas is nine. He turns ten next month."

"Then they’re just a year apart. Zach will be eleven in November." Something in his eyes said he already knew that. Her face started to heat up.

"Do you and Sandy share joint custody?" she couldn’t repress her curiosity. She’d be dealing with Zach’s father all too soon.

"Theoretically," he said shortly.

Bethany made a growling sound and slipped between Donnie and Kris. Her bony shoulder made contact with the fleshy part of Kris’s arm. "I can do this," Bethany said. "I’ve helped Margie before."

"Okay," Donnie said apparently not noticing the girl’s protective attitude. He gave Kris a friendly smile. She could use a friend. Too bad she didn’t trust herself with men. She’d made a few mistakes over the years. From the marketing genius who lacked a conscience to the ski instructor who lacked self-control. She was sick of riding the pendulum between loser and bruiser.

"So where are all the guys from your band?" she asked as Beth took her hand and firmly made a black impression in the space allotted for each digit.

As a civilian deputy with the Search and Rescue program, Donnie had been in charge of his own little band of merry men, who moonlighted as Conundrum—a garage band that played all the local venues. "Rory, Jimbo and Bernie, right?" she asked, conjuring up an image for each name.

His low chuckle made the hair on the back of her hand rise. Bethany pressed down extra hard on Kris’s remaining two fingers. I’m not after your boss, Kris almost said. Even though she could use a friend, the last thing in the world she needed right now was a relationship. She had to stay focused on her fledgling business, her son, and her family.

"Jimbo’s making long hauls to the East Coast. The rest are scattered. Not a lot of jobs in this area. You’re pretty brave to set up shop in Gold Creek."

"So I’ve been told. I’m hoping people will be open minded enough to give me a try, but if not, I’ve got feelers out with a couple of chiropractors in the bigger cities. I can commute, if necessary."

"Is it true you’re using the basement of the old bordello?"

"Yep. They laid the carpet on Monday. I love it. It’s cozy and quiet. And it keeps my overhead down because I help out upstairs to offset my rent."

The old bordello served as both retail outlet and home. Jonathan and Andi now occupied the whole second floor, while Ida Jane lived in the family quarters on the main floor. The Old Bordello Antique Shop and Coffee Parlor took up the front half of the building.

The historic structure was something of a white elephant and cost a fortune to heat each winter, but neither Kris nor her sisters could conceive of selling the place as long as Ida Jane was alive.

Bethany finished with Kristin’s right hand and reached for the left. A crackling radio exchange erupted in the distance. "That’s Cory calling in," the girl blurted out as she dashed past Donnie.

"Cory?"

"Cory Brandell. Our latest hire. Quite the heart-throb," he said with just a touch of exasperation. Kristin could remember when he was the source of lady’s heads turning. Although there was no reason he couldn’t still be, she thought. His dark brown crew cut and hazel eyes reminded her of actor Matthew McConaughey.

"Let’s finish this up," he said reaching for her hand. "I don’t want to tie up your day any longer than necessary."

His tone was polite, businesslike. Nothing about his touch should have affected her as it did. Crazy tingles started at her wrist and bounced hit and miss through her body like a fly caught in a lampshade. He hesitated a second as if he felt it, too, but then he lowered his head and squinted at the paper as he intently aligned each finger in its little box. His thumb and index finger dwarfed her pale white digits. Her nails were closely trimmed and polish free.

"I was really surprised when I heard you were a massage therapist. Your hands are so small."

She sensed his unspoken curiosity about her choice of profession. "I use more than my hands," she said. "My technique utilizes my whole arm and body for leverage."

"How’d you get into it?"

She was asked that a lot. "After I left Ireland, I moved to Wisconsin with my cousins, Moira and Kathleen. They were working and going to school and I’d give them neck rubs. Moira thought I was so good, she signed me up for a course at the junior college. I loved it."

She took the paper towel he offered and wiped the nasty black ink from her fingertips. "My teacher called me a natural. He said I could divine other people’s pain and knotted muscles through my fingers."

She felt a blush coming on and stepped back, pretending to search for a trash can. Donnie pointed to a gray plastic vessel then led the way to the main room. "Did the people at County explain that you need to leave a check and a money order? One for us, one for the State."

Kristin dug in her shoulder bag for the sheaf of information she’d been toting around. It wasn’t cheap to relocate a business, she’d discovered. Telephone lines, a new cellular company, a change of license plates and driver’s license, new business cards and advertising. This was the last hurdle.

"Yes. I still don’t understand the reasoning, but I picked up the money order on Wednesday," she said taking her checkbook from the zippered section of her purse. "Since Zach got home I’ve..."

She didn’t want to think about the frosty reception her son had given her. If it weren’t for the warmth he showed Sarge, the bloodhound Jonathan and Andi had given Zach, Kris would have sworn her cousin sent home the wrong kid.

She set the money order on top of the application then took the pen Donnie offered and opened the blue plastic cover.

No checks. She’d used her last one at the DMV. "Perfect," she muttered. Typical. "I swear, Donnie, I’m never like this outside of this town. In Ashland, I was even asked to serve on the PTA. What is it about Gold Creek that brings out the worst in me?"

His chuckle was not unkind. He pulled out his wallet, but Kristin stopped him. "No. Don’t even think about it. I’m not a needy waif panhandling for change."

"I know that. You’re an old friend who will pay me back. Why slow up this process because you’re too proud to take a little help?"

"I don’t need help. I’m capable." How long had she been trying to prove that? And now she’d flubbed up once more.

"I know you are," he said. "I saw the video of the twins’ birth. You were a rock for Jenny."

His gentle reassurance calmed her anguish.

"Besides that, you made it this far in the licensing process—which is no small feat, believe me. I’ve seen grown men weep at the bureaucratic hurdles the government throws up these days."

He removed two bills from his wallet. A twenty and a five. "This isn’t a big deal, Kristin. I pay this for you; you send me a check. Simple."

"I’ll run home, pick up some checks and be right back."

"Mail it. I’m living at my folk’s old house on Granite Hollow."

"No, I want to get this cleared up right..." A sudden thought hit her. Kris had promised to take the afternoon shift at the store and judging by the clock on the wall, she had ten minutes to get there. Andi was a real stickler for punctuality. "I don’t suppose you could swing by the bordello after work, could you? I promised Andi I’d cover for her this afternoon."

He hesitated just a second. "Sure, if it makes you feel better. I’ve been meaning to stop by and say hello to Ida Jane, anyway."

As she waited for him to finish filling out the receipt, he asked, "Is your son ready for school?"

No. Zach was registered, but Kris had no idea what to expect next week when classes officially began. He had never responded to a move this way before. At Jenny’s suggestion, Kristin and Zach had visited a family therapist yesterday. The woman had concluded that Zach was "perfectly delightful" with normal fears, worries and concerns. Her advice: "Keep the lines of communication open and spend more quality time with him."

Maybe I could find us matching brick walls to bang our heads against, Kris thought.

Donnie passed the receipt across the chest-high counter. "Thanks," she said.

She folded the slip and tucked it in her purse right beside her half-finished list of things to do. Between running errands, seeing to Ida Jane’s needs, and worrying about Zach, Kris felt frazzled. And this was without a single scheduled massage. If business picked up, who knew how she’d keep things organized?

She stifled a sigh. She’d been managing on her own for eleven years. She’d get through this, too.

"Kris, are you okay?"

She straightened her shoulders and tossed her head. Leave it to Donnie to pick up on her fears. "Fine. Just thinking about all the things I have to get done today."

His eyes showed concern. Could he see how close she was to the edge? How little sleep she’d gotten the past few months worrying that she’d screwed up the lives of everyone she loved? "Gotta run. I’ll see you later this afternoon, then. I’ll give you a discount coupon for a massage."

Not that she figured he’d ever use it. The memories between—both the good and the bad—would probably get in the way of her therapeutic touch.

She bumped into three deputies on her way out the door—two strangers and Edgar Olson, who had been the arresting officer the night of her disgrace. She faked a breezy hello then dashed to her car.

If she’d been in Ashland, she would have handed them each one of her business cards and chatted up the benefits of massage for people who worked in stressful jobs like law enforcement. But something about Gold Creek robbed her of what precious little self-confidence she’d fought so hard to acquire. And that scared her more than the thought of facing Tyler Harrison—her son’s father.

* * *

Everything about this sucky town sucks, Zach Sullivan decided as he looked out the window of the cheesy little house his aunt had given them to live in.

The rooms were small and the backyard was so tiny he felt guilty making Sarge stay there. Half the time he walked Sarge over the bordello so the dog could play with Andi’s sheepdog puppy, Harley. The bordello had a huge backyard.

Sarge was the only good part about this move, Zach thought. And Ida Jane wasn’t too bad.

His mother’s great-aunt was almost as old as the bordello. He liked her. He liked the building, too. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe its history. He enjoyed listening to Ida Jane tell stories about the place.

Not that he’d ever admit that to his mother. No way. She’d lied to him for almost his entire life. He wasn’t going to just forgive her for that.

Hell, no.

He shook his head. His blond bangs brushed against his eyelashes. His mom had never allowed him to grow his hair this long before, but he figured she was on such a heavy guilt trip he could probably murder somebody and she’d still forgive him.

She hadn’t even given him any crap about his nose ring. Which was sort of disappointing. The damn thing hurt like hell to have put in. The least she could have done was faint or yell or something when she saw it.

Zach muttered the long string of epithets he and his cousins had spent weeks perfecting. Then he walked to the refrigerator and took out a Coke. Sarge, who’d been sleeping by the door, lifted his head—maybe hoping for a snack.

Zach walked to where the old hound was lying and sat down. He rested his head against the cabinet and closed his eyes behind the curtain of his oily bangs.

School would start on Monday, and Sunday was the twins’ first birthday party. A part of him had always dreamed of this kind life—hanging out with family in a town where you felt kinda safe.

But if his mother thought he was going to let this stupid town and its stupid people—including his a-hole father—into his life, she was crazy.

He’d run away first. Maybe he’d stay with Moira and her family for awhile in Chicago. He’d work the docks and save enough money to go back to Ireland where he was born. Zach had no memory of the place, but it had to be better than Gold Creek, California. Hadn’t his mother left this place the first chance she got? Why should he stay?

If she made him meet his father, he’d do it. The guy was supposed to be rich. I’ll meet him, steal something valuable, then hock it for a ticket east.

He stroked Sarge’s long, silky ear and took a swallow of his soda. Two tickets. He wasn’t going to leave Sarge behind. He’d missed the dog the whole time he was in Chicago.

The tightness in his chest eased a bit. A plan, Zach thought. It always helped to have a plan.

- return to top -