The Comeback Girl
Authors: Debra Salonen
Donnie Grimaldo held his breath as he waited for Kristin’s answer to his absurd proposal. She looked shell-shocked. Her mouth kept opening and closing as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Kris. You’re right. It’s a dumb idea.”
She blinked rapidly. “You took me by surprise. I didn’t know there were men like you left in this world. You’d actually sacrifice your freedom to provide a stable home for your son?” She took a deep breath. “Part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and say yes. But marriage is a big deal, Donnie. It’s a legal state.”
“It’s only a big deal if we make it one,” he told her, knowing as he spoke that his words weren’t entirely true. He’d taken his first marriage very seriously, which was one of the reasons it had hurt so much when it ended. “This is a marriage of convenience, Kris. Think how good it would look to the courts if you were married to a well-established deputy sheriff. No judge would take your son away from you.”
“But I came back to Gold Creek to make up for the past. Not to start a new lie.”
He let out a sigh of frustration. “I understand. But for once, our history would actually work in our favor—the diehard romantics are probably expecting us to get back together. Only the two of us need to know that you’ll be sleeping in my mother’s quarters.”
Not in my bed.
Dear Reader,
They say you can’t go home again. Don’t tell that to Kristin Sullivan. Her great-aunt is dying. Her sisters—Jenny and Andi—need her. But returning to Gold Creek isn’t easy. It means owning up to her mistakes. It means risking what she treasures most—the love of her eleven-year-old son, Zach, when she introduces him to the father he’s never met.
Kristin returns knowing she has bridges to rebuild—including the one with Donnie Grimaldo. Her first love. A cop. A father. A man set to leave Gold Creek for good—until fate intervenes and two friends decide to help each other out “for old time’s sake.” Which, of course, is a lie. They never stopped loving each other—but will they be brave enough to admit the truth?
Writing a trilogy is an incredibly intense process. It means committing a huge block of time to three connected stories filled with a multitude of characters who grow and evolve and are affected by outside forces beyond your ken. What works at the onset of the first book may no longer hold true by the time you reach the third. Each character adds new insights and dimensions to subjects you never planned to address. The setting—in this case, Gold Creek—becomes so real you find yourself looking for it on the map.
Ending this association is difficult. I already miss those Sullivan sisters and their men—Sam, Jonathan and Donnie. I miss the kids. The dogs. Even the busybodies at the Gold Creek Garden Club. Perhaps down the road a stretch, we’ll drop back in to check up on everybody. In the meantime, please keep in touch. Write to me at P.O. Box 322, Cathey’s Valley, CA 95306 or contact me through my Web site at www.debrasalonen.com. And if you get the chance, drop by the “Let’s Talk Superromance” bulletin board at eHarlequin.com. So many authors, so much to chat about.
Debra
Debra Salonen
To my mother, Daisy Bagby Robson, born in 1913.
Her pioneer spirit and unfailing love continue to inspire me.
August 21, 2002, Wednesday
Fresno, CA, Fresno/Yosemite International Airport
K
RISTIN
S
ULLIVAN HATED
airports.
“Where is he?” she asked, scanning the phalanx of travelers headed toward the baggage area. No lanky preteen 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 him around while she packed their belongings in Ashland, Oregon, and unpacked them 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 reacquainted 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—the oldest of the triplets—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 relationship between Kris and her son had been strained for the four months prior to his departure. 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 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 at the second wave of travelers moving toward them.
Kristin’s heart did a double-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 away from his mother hadn’t improved her son’s disposition.
He’d made his feelings clear from that day in March when she’d introduced him to her family. Since then, they’d been back a few 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’s 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 to Gold Creek 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 immediately after their birth and 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.
D
ONNIE
G
RIMALDO
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 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 student intern—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 from 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. 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 ol-factory 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 and Jenny, the third of the Sullivan triplets, were good friends of Donnie’s.
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. “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 times, but eager to learn. She reminded Donnie of himself at that age—before the real world had 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 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 scatterbrained 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 so that he could 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 speaker. “I didn’t expect
you
to come to the window. You’re a captain now, right?”
In any other town he would have been a captain, but Sheriff Brown didn’t share power easily. In Gold Creek’s sheriff’s department, the glass ceiling was made of iron. “We don’t stand on ceremony 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 handcuffs?” he asked, trying to keep things light.
Her sunny grin was one that anybody in town would recognize. As a child, she’d been a favorite of the old men at the barbershop, who tolerantly emptied their pockets of change anytime she came by. Of course, they’d done the same thing for each of those Sullivan girls.
“Fingerprints,” she said. “I was told I need 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 might come 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 at having 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 was sincere. One thing about Kristin Sullivan, she didn’t fake her feelings. He’d only known her to lie once—about the reason she’d left town—and even that had been 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 smiled to show he was joking.
She tossed her head with a laugh. Her curls danced beneath the fluorescent lighting. “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’d kissed her. God, he’d loved her back then.
Kristin had loved him, too. But as a college freshman, Donnie had discovered a world filled with temptations. He’d done the honorable thing—broken 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 triplets’ were exactly seven months apart, 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 defuse the situation. Harrison had left without seeing Kristin.
“That freaked me out,” Kris said. “I’d hoped to have more time to handle things 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.
“Have you and Ty talked since then?” he asked and immediately wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to know about her troubles or any custody 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 slightly. “Our lawyers are talking. Apparently Ty has just got back from doing business in Japan. 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 Kris 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 protégée in here to learn the process.”
And help defuse any tension,
he silently added.
She opened her mouth as if to ask him something but closed it and smiled. “Great.”