Love Without End (28 page)

But solitude was the reason Charity had come to Kings Meadow. She needed a respite from all distractions in her everyday life, and this was the perfect place to escape the hubbub. There was only a small area of this valley in the high country where a person could get cellular service—kids up here didn’t spend their lives texting their friends—and while there was Internet service available through the cable provider, it was far from the high speed she was used to.

The second-floor bedroom Charity had shared with her sister up until Terri got married hadn’t changed much. It still bore many of the traces of teenage girls. There were some possessions Terri and Charity hadn’t wanted to take with them when they moved out, things their mother had been unable
to get rid of. Even after giving the room a fresh coat of paint, some of the pop star posters had gone back on the walls. The memories those posters stirred to life made Charity smile as she unpacked her suitcases, placing clothes in the old chest of drawers and hanging other items in the closet. A closet that had been too small for two clothes-conscious girls.

As she stowed her now empty suitcases under the bed, she looked out the window and saw Buck Malone exit the house next door and stride to his battered, old pickup truck. Her heart did a crazy—and unexpected—flutter at the sight of him. A remnant from when she was fifteen and suffering unrequited love for the drop-dead gorgeous high school senior who didn’t even know she was alive.

The truck engine started, and in moments, he was gone from view.

Buck Malone. She hadn’t seen him in years—surprising given the small population of Kings Meadow, but somehow they’d managed to miss each other when she came to visit her folks. Or maybe it wasn’t surprising. Most of her trips home happened during the summer when he was guiding people on trail rides and camping trips.

She gave her head a shake. Her teenage crush for Buck Malone was ancient history. It didn’t much matter now.

Turning from the window, she saw Cocoa seated in the bedroom doorway, watching her with a patient gaze. “Guess we’d better think about stocking the refrigerator so we don’t go hungry. Let’s go to the store.”

Her dog knew what “Let’s go” meant. She raced down the stairs and danced around impatiently until Charity caught up with her, purse slung over her shoulder. When Charity
opened the door, the dog dashed outside and sniffed around the yard a bit before meeting her mistress at the car.

Charity loved Cocoa. She’d rescued her from the shelter when the dog was an awkward-looking pup of about eight months old. Charity had been told the puppy was to be destroyed in three more days if no one adopted her first. Maybe the girl at the shelter had seen Charity coming or maybe she’d spoken the truth. Whatever. Charity had left the shelter with Cocoa on a leash. She’d never been sorry for it either. The dog might not be beautiful in dog show terms—she was definitely not a purebred anything, and part of her right ear had been torn off in a fight at the shelter—but she was smart as a whip and loved Charity as much as she loved her.

Charity opened the car door and Cocoa jumped into the driver’s seat, hopped over the console, and sat on the passenger seat. The dog didn’t care where they were going. She just liked to go. Charity laughed as she got in and started the engine.

The drive to the grocery store in Kings Meadow didn’t take more than ten minutes, even with a couple of Stop signs between the Anderson home and the market. There was plenty of parking available in the small lot at this time of day. She chose a spot farthest from the store entrance.

“You stay, Cocoa.”

The dog looked at her as if to say
Okay
, and then poked her head out the open passenger side window.

Charity was glad she didn’t have to worry about Cocoa jumping out of the car to chase after a cat or another dog. Or for that matter, a horse or a coyote or a deer, any of
which could also wander down the main drag at any hour. Cocoa would stay where she’d told her to stay. She was that kind of a dog.

Inside the market, Charity was greeted by name by the lady at the checkout stand. Not unexpected. Most residents had been in Kings Meadow for decades, some families for several generations, and everybody knew everybody. While many young folk left this small mountain community right after high school, a surprising number—surprising to Charity anyway—never left, or they returned after a few years away.

“Hi, Mrs. Cook,” Charity said.

“I hear you’ve come to stay for the summer.”

“That’s my plan.” She could have added that she had a book due in September. In truth, the book was already many months past due, but her new make-or-break deadline was September first.

“We’re all so proud of you, dear. You’re a shining success story.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Cook.”

Feeling like a total fraud, Charity yanked a shopping cart free from the others and started down the first aisle.

B
UCK
’
S BROTHER
, K
EN
,
RAN HIS HAND OVER THE
saddle Buck had finished making the day before. “Nice. Who’s it for?”

“Kimberly Leonard. A gift from her husband.”

“There’s a city girl I never expected to stick around for long.”

Buck glanced down at the leather bridle on his workbench.
“I guess love’ll do that to you. But I wouldn’t know for sure. You’re the one who’s lucky when it comes to love.”

“No argument from me.” Ken chuckled.

Buck meant what he’d said. Ken was definitely lucky in the love department. Ken and his wife, Sara, had fallen in love in high school, married while Ken was still in college, had three kids in quick succession, and now, ten years later, they were expecting their fourth. Buck on the other hand had never found a woman who made him want to settle down to the life of a family man. Not yet anyway. Maybe someday. He hadn’t given up hope for it to happen. But it would take someone special.

“You getting ready for a trip?” Ken asked, intruding on Buck’s thoughts.

“Yeah. I leave next week. A dozen boys and two leaders from their church are packing in for a week to clear some trails. All but one are bringing their own horses. I’m told the boys and leaders are all skilled riders.”

“That’ll be nice for a change.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Buck loved his work as a wilderness guide. What wasn’t to love? Spending most of the summer and early fall on horseback, riding through the beautiful Idaho backcountry, sleeping under the stars. Oh, it wasn’t perfect. Some of his clients weren’t ready for the trips they went on, whether that was their riding skills or their ability to rough it or—worse yet—both. When that happened, a trip could be challenging. But even then, he loved what he did. It was a simple life. He made enough money to feed his horses and pay his mortgage. And in the winter, he had the saddle shop work to keep him occupied and bring in a little money every now and then.

Changing the subject, he asked, “How’s Sara?”

“Tired.” His brother’s expression turned grim. “This pregnancy’s been a lot harder on her than the others. I’m worried, to tell you the truth. She might have to go on bed rest until the baby’s born, and that’s not easy with three kids to look after.”

“If there’s anything I can do, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Thanks, Buck. I appreciate it.” Ken turned on his heel. “I’d best be moving on. Sara gave me a list of things I need to do before I go home.”

“Tell her I’m praying for her.”

“I’ll do it.”

After Ken left the small saddle shop in the center of town, Buck bid the owner a good day, then drove to The Merc. He parked his truck a couple of spaces over from a silver Lexus. He’d seen the luxury SUV parked in the Anderson family’s driveway when he’d left his house this morning. Had to be the same one. There weren’t a whole lot of cars like that one in these mountains. A whole lot meaning none.

Only one person he knew would have a car like that and be at the Anderson house—Charity Anderson herself. He hadn’t seen her in person in a long time. Years. But he’d seen her picture in the newspaper a couple of times and heard about her plenty. Not many Kings Meadow High graduates went on to publish a series of bestselling novels for young adults before they turned thirty. Which made folks around here proud of her success.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Charity came out of the market, pushing a cart full of bags. At least, he thought it was her. Only he didn’t remember Charity Anderson being
such a knockout. The photos in the newspaper hadn’t done her justice. She wore skinny jeans and a sky-blue fitted top and high heels that didn’t belong anywhere in these mountains. When she glanced up and saw him, she stopped still, a strange expression crossing her face before it was replaced with a smile.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hey, Charity. Is that really you? Our paths haven’t crossed in a month of Sundays. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She used the remote to open the back of her vehicle. “How about you?”

He strode over to help load the canvas bags full of groceries into the car. “Here. Let me get those for you.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to—”

“My mom would tan my hide if I didn’t help a lady.”

Charity took a step back, leaving him more room to work.

He had all the bags loaded into the vehicle in a matter of moments. After closing the rear door, he turned toward her again. “How’s the trip for your folks so far? Are they having a great time?”

“Yes. I had an e-mail from them last night. They’re still getting over the jet lag but are enjoying the sights of London before they head to Paris.”

“Glad to hear it. Are you up here for long?”

She didn’t answer at once. “For the summer, actually.” The words seemed to be forced out of her, as if she didn’t want him to know.

“The summer? I guess that means I’ll see more of you then, now that we’re neighbors. You knew I bought the place next door to your parents, right?”

“Yes, I knew. But I don’t plan to be out and about much. I’ll be writing most of the time. And listen, I really must get back to the house. There’s still much to do before I can get to work.”

It wasn’t often that Buck got the brush-off, but that was what this felt like. Had he offended Charity sometime in the past? He didn’t think so. What could he have done? He hadn’t known her well, back when she lived in Kings Meadow. As he recalled, she’d been a quiet, bookish sort. A little on the plain side, really. Nobody that stood out in any special way. Definitely different from the woman before him. “Sure,” he said at last. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Buck took a step back and started to turn around. Something solid struck him with force against the back of his knees, knocking him off balance. He heard Charity make an alarmed cry as his feet flew out from under him. He tried to break his fall with his hand. Despite it, he hit the ground hard. There were a few moments when he felt nothing but surprise. Then the pain shot through him. A white hot haze of pain. So bad he couldn’t be sure where in his body it came from. He closed his eyes against it.

“Cocoa. Bad dog.” Charity’s voice seemed far away. “Get in the car. Get in the car now.”

Buck groaned and tried to push himself up from the blacktop. The pain became more specific as his right arm crumpled beneath him.

“Buck.” Charity knelt beside him. “Oh, Buck. I’m so sorry. Cocoa never jumps out of the car unless I release her. Never. I don’t know why—”

Someone called Charity’s name.

“We need the EMTs, Mrs. Cook,” she shouted back, looking toward the store entrance.

At least, Buck thought the store was in that direction. The world felt upside down and inside out right now, so he couldn’t be sure of anything.

“I think you’ve broken your wrist. Try to hold still.”

“I must’ve twisted my ankle too.” He spoke through clenched teeth, the pain focusing in that new part of his body. “It’s like it’s on fire.”

“The EMTs will be here soon.” She took his left hand in hers and held on firmly.

Buck squeezed his eyes shut again. He didn’t doubt something was broken. A couple of somethings more than likely. He’d been busted up before. Both arms. Several of his ribs. A concussion. But never at the start of the tourist season. If he had a broken bone or two, as suspected, he would be in a world of trouble. He’d have to find another guide to fill in for him on the trips he had booked in the next few weeks. Finding somebody good on such short notice wouldn’t be easy, and nothing about this accident was going to help his bottom line.

Oh, man. He hoped he was wrong. He hoped nothing was broken.

Hoped . . . but knew better.

The story continues in Robin Lee Hatcher’s
Whenever You Come Around
.

An Excerpt from
A Promise Kept

Allison

May 2011

T
HIS WASN
’
T THE LIFE
A
LLISON
K
AVANAGH HAD
imagined for herself, but it was what her life had become. Like it or not, she had to get on with it.