Holiday Homecoming. Pamela Tracy
breath and tried to figure out what to do first. Should she act as if this was just another visit? No, that wouldn’t work. She’d never stayed overnight...not in a decade, anyway.
At eighteen, thanks to Grandpa’s insistence and money, she’d traveled an hour away to Tucson and the university there. After earning her degree in zoology—in three years instead of four—she’d secured a job at a major zoo in California. As the new kid on the block, her responsibilities hadn’t been as hands-on as she desired. Plus, she hadn’t liked being so far away from Gesippi and her family. What if she were needed?
So, after just one year, she returned to Arizona and found work at BAA in Scorpion Ridge, only seventy-five miles from her home. Far enough away so she didn’t keep bumping into her past; close enough to be available to help her family if they needed her.
But since returning to Arizona, she’d never spent the night in Gesippi.
Grandpa knew the reason why, and he’d be suspicious when he saw her bag, so it would be better to just jump right in and tell him the family’s concerns, and that she was staying indefinitely. Yes, that’s what she’d do. Hopefully, Zack would show up in time to help.
She studied the place where her early childhood had flourished thanks to horses, tree houses, creeks and Grandma’s cookies. All the Stone children had basically lived here while their parents worked evenings and weekends. But once Meredith hit fifteen, she’d been more interested in the boy next door and spending time in the tree house and creek with him. She’d also learned to make Grandma’s cookies because he liked them.
The way to a man’s heart and all...
Too bad the young man in question had been so intent on leaving Gesippi, getting an education and making a name for himself as a journalist that he’d managed to break her heart.
Ten years later, her grandfather’s horses were now gone and the tree house was in as much disrepair as her heart. The boy next door had moved away, married, had a daughter and indeed was making a name for himself by writing and filming documentaries.
He was now a widower. Not that Meredith cared.
His shy younger brother was moving on, too, and getting married.
Good, she wished him the best after their misguided relationship.
Switching off the ignition, she shook away those memories and opened the door, pausing before stepping from the car. The house had always been painted white. Grandpa saw no need for any other color. But now, it was weathered and looked a bit like a white-and-gray-speckled egg. Not a pretty one, either. The gutters circling the house were loose and in one place a section was missing.
Luckily, it was a small house, so, if necessary, she could probably do the painting herself these next few months. The Rittenhouses, Luke and Katie, her bosses at the animal habitat, had kindly changed her schedule so that she was only working weekends. They’d told her to take all the time she needed to settle things here in Gesippi. If Zack was right, she might have to take a full leave of absence. She’d heal the house even if she couldn’t heal her grandfather.
“I’ve got the time,” she whispered to herself. “I might even enjoy it.”
She gazed beyond the house to the barns and stables, now empty. Beyond, Grandpa’s land, currently farmed by someone else, spread as far as the eye could see. When she was young, she’d thought it spread to the ocean. When she hit fifteen, she knew it bumped against paradise.
A boy named Jimmy Murphy.
Slamming the door to her SUV, she stepped down not onto the walkway that led to the front door but onto grass that grew across the pathway that led to the front door.
One more thing to do: mow.
“Grandpa! Where are you?”
Used to be, he was at the front porch door before a visitor could even exit the car. It had driven the family crazy. He’d invite strangers in and offer them something to drink, talk their ear off about his family, his animals and his God. But as his hearing worsened, he couldn’t hear cars approaching. Today, if the volume of the television was any indication, he hadn’t heard her arrive, either. She’d wanted to surprise him, but maybe she should have called.
“Grandpa, it’s me. Meredith!”
The screen door was unlocked, so she stepped onto the porch. Grandpa’s jacket hung on a hook by the door. A pair of old brown boots waited underneath. Two chairs faced the windows. Newspapers were spread over one—Grandma’s. The other chair was empty, although Grandpa’s reading glasses and a half-empty coffee cup were on a nearby table.
The door to the house was unlocked also. Meredith pushed it open until she could see into the living room with its olive green couch, antique coffee table and large-screen television, which had a morning-news show blaring. Meredith turned off the TV before hollering Grandpa’s name again.
When Grandma was alive, something half crocheted always waited in a basket on the floor and partly read books lay open over the couch’s armrests. After five years, very little remained of Grandma’s presence, and if loneliness had a smell, this was it. Meredith knew it well.
Somewhere in the distance she heard Pepper bark. Maybe Grandpa was in the backyard where he liked to feed the squirrels; Pepper liked to chase them.
Veering off the front walk, she headed through the grass—which was past her ankles and full of weeds—and to the backyard.
As she made her way to the backyard, she saw more signs of neglect but no signs of her grandfather. Meredith fought the out-of-control feeling threatening to make her turn around, tuck her tail between her legs and flee.
In Gesippi, she was a Stone and had been what the kids called an overachiever, voted Girl Most Likely To Get Whatever She Wanted. No one knew that in high school she’d filled her calendar—along with her siblings’ calendars—with so many things just so they wouldn’t have to go home.
And, even more funny, the yearbook with that predication had arrived the day after she’d lost what she wanted most.
Jimmy Murphy.
Twelve months after that, one rash act had made her rethink who she was, where she was going and why. Thanks to her grandfather, she’d sidestepped a huge mistake with Jimmy’s younger brother, Danny, and she’d left Gesippi. In the years since, she’d rarely returned because while many were forgiving, none had forgotten.
It was only on television that leaving a groom standing at the altar made for good entertainment.
JIMMY MURPHY LEANED against his shovel and watched as the brown SUV sped across the dirt road, skidding slightly while taking the bumps too quickly. Clearly an outsider who cared little about the vehicle’s alignment.
“Ray expecting anyone?” he called to his brother. Danny was on the other side of the truck, messing with a roll of plastic ditch.
Jimmy had been stuck with the digging and was glad for a break.
“Not that I know of.” Danny didn’t even sound winded.
“Any of the Stones get a new car?”
“Not that I know of.”
Jimmy could have asked a few more questions, but obviously Danny wasn’t in the mood to speculate. He was getting married in less than two weeks, the Saturday before Christmas. Although their mother and Holly, his bride-to-be, were doing all the work, Danny was stressed. Thus, all the Murphys were stressed.
They deserved to be. The last time Danny had tried to get married, his bride hadn’t shown up for the wedding.
Meredith Stone, the girl next door. Both Murphy boys had loved her. But it had been Jimmy who had owned her heart, only to walk away from her. Danny had tried to fill the empty space, but failed. In the end, everyone had gotten hurt.
For