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Right Where We Started
Pamela Hearon
A second chance to choose loveReturning to Taylor's Grove is bittersweet for Audrey Merrill. She's come home to take care of her ailing mother and finally face her painful past. She just never expected her daughter's new teacher would be Mark Dublin. As childhood sweethearts, she and Mark were inseparable. Until her sister's tragic death—an accident Audrey blames on him.Mark is back to make amends. And, surrounded by memories of happier times, it doesn't take Audrey long to remember the love they once shared. Now she's faced with the same dilemma as years ago: hold on to the sorrow or forgive and embrace happiness.
A second chance to choose love
Returning to Taylor’s Grove is bittersweet for Audrey Merrill. She’s come home to take care of her ailing mother and finally face her painful past. She just never expected her daughter’s new teacher would be Mark Dublin. As childhood sweethearts, she and Mark were inseparable. Until her sister’s tragic death—an accident Audrey blames on him.
Mark is back to make amends. And, surrounded by memories of happier times, it doesn’t take Audrey long to remember the love they once shared. Now she’s faced with the same dilemma as years ago: hold on to the sorrow or forgive and embrace happiness.
“Audrey.” The last syllable compressed as his air ran out.
“Hello, Mark.” Her blue-gray eyes held none of the warmth that suddenly engulfed him.
He thought he was prepared for this moment...had known it was coming for two weeks now. It was the reason he’d moved back to Taylor’s Grove, the reason he’d taken this job.
He’d prepared for the icy glare and the bitter tone and the eleven years of aging since his last glimpse of her. But he hadn’t prepared for the richness age had added to Audrey’s voice or the deeper beauty that had emerged like a stone from a grit tumbler, polished to perfection by the sands of time.
He wasn’t prepared for the way his heart swelled or how the sight of her made him feel like a thirsty man struggling to reach the far oasis.
He’d prepared for the hatred...not the love.
Dear Reader (#u68cc95c3-240e-509a-bf93-5f3b024e4758),
If you’ve ever had a dog as a pet, you know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. You can scold them, but at the first kind look or gesture, they’re immediately back at your side, looking at you with adoration shining in their eyes.
We could learn a lot from dogs. Even without the sophistication of human intelligence and logic, they’ve figured out that forgiveness is a powerful force—one that can reshape the spirit and breathe into it new life.
Right Where We Started, Book 4 in my Taylor’s Grove, Kentucky, series, is built around the theme of forgiveness. Unlike the other books in the series, both the hero and heroine of this story grew up in Taylor’s Grove. They were lifelong best friends and childhood sweethearts until tragedy pushed them in different directions.
Audrey Merrill and Mark Dublin might have a second chance at love if only they can learn to forgive. So, of course, there is a dog (well, actually several) to teach them that just because a relationship started as puppy love doesn’t mean it can’t last forever.
Until next time,
Pamela
Right Where We Started
Pamela Hearon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
PAMELA HEARON grew up in Paducah, Kentucky, a place that infuses its inhabitants with Southern values and hospitality. Here she finds inspiration for her quirky characters, her stories’ backdrops and her narrative voice. Pamela was a 2013 RITA® Award finalist and a Maggie Award finalist for her first Harlequin Superromance story, Out of the Depths. The Summer Place was a 2014 National Readers’ Choice Award finalist. Visit Pamela at pamelahearon.com (http://www.pamelahearon.com), and on Facebook and Twitter.
To my GNOs—Jackie, Mindy, Cathy, Rita, Debbie, Sharon, Debby, Kathy and Dishona—who bring that kind of love and acceptance to my life that only girlfriends understand...even when my accent scrapes across their eardrums like pieces of Styrofoam rubbed together.
Acknowledgments (#u68cc95c3-240e-509a-bf93-5f3b024e4758)
Thanks to my fabulous agent, Jennifer Weltz (Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency), for all the hard work and time she puts in on my behalf.
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Karen Reid, for not being afraid to pull the reins in on me when the journeys in my mind veer too far from the map.
Thanks to my critique group—Angela Campbell, Sandra Jones and Maggie Van Well—who dedicate so many hours to helping me put the perfect word in the perfect place.
Thank you to Cynthia D’Alba who is always ready to talk me through those plot problems and make time for ice cream.
And forever love and thanks to my precious husband, Dick, who makes every day of my life a thing to celebrate.
Contents
Cover (#u189792ff-3cc9-53bc-b3ef-7fba4f38b707)
Back Cover Text (#u63157f5c-beac-596a-9015-fd586ef33a7c)
Introduction (#uc97c5f51-b24c-51a6-b3ca-591b0fcc24ee)
Dear Reader
Title Page (#u27ff37a7-a4a4-5a50-b92c-7a5ac452bd1d)
About the Author (#u2eb09fc2-3f91-5d8c-9599-383ca488047f)
Dedication (#uca2e0569-cb8b-5349-bd84-5d242751c991)
Acknowledgments
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
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_685ad00a-d1fd-50de-b534-875a3c5337dc)
Late August
AN ODD MIXTURE of emotion swept through Audrey Merrill as she opened the wide front door of the iconic redbrick building and led her daughter, Tess, inside. A deep breath filled her head with the unique smell—a combination of the fresh scent of pine cleaner mingling with, though not quite disguising, the odor of musty books, crayons, school glue and seventy-two years of sweaty children returning from recess. The familiar scent, which hadn’t perceptively changed in the twenty-four years since she’d entered these halls as a kindergartner, welcomed her home even while it pinged her heart with memories of the things that had changed.
The unexpected death of her dad most recently.
“This place smells exactly like it did when I was your age.” Pausing just inside, she gave Tess’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
Tess curled her upper lip and sniffed the air, then gave her head a shake, which sent her red curls bouncing. “It doesn’t smell like my old school.”
The comment brought a smile to Audrey’s lips. “Your ‘old school’ was a lot newer than this one.” At least fifty years she figured, considering the newish neighborhood they’d left only two days ago in Titusville, Florida. “That’s your room.” She nodded to the closed door of the first-grade classroom as they passed it, heartened by the exuberant sound of the children within enjoying some fun activity. Obviously, Mrs. Lively was still on top of her game despite being in her sixties now.
Tess bounced on her tiptoes and craned her neck, not tall enough to see through the window of the door on the right.
“You’ll like Mrs. Lively,” Audrey assured her. “She was one of my favorite teachers.”
The classrooms were lined up in order with even-numbered grades on the left and odd-numbered grades on the right. The last door on the right—the one across from the eighth grade—belonged to the office. Just before they opened it, a whiff of fresh-baked cookies floated from the kitchen, which, along with the cafeteria, was housed at the back of the building.
Tess’s eyes widened in appreciation as she took a deep sniff. “I like this school. It smells yummy!”
Marta, the school secretary, looked up from her computer as soon as the door opened. Audrey and Tess had been in Taylor’s Grove barely an hour last month when Marta showed up with her four children, insisting on entertaining Tess while Audrey went to the funeral home and made arrangements. And Pastor O’Malley’s wife, Faith, had been staying around-the-clock with Audrey’s mom, Helen, until Audrey could make the trip from Florida to Kentucky.
Their kindness had been an important factor in Audrey’s decision to move back home.
Marta’s face brightened into a welcoming grin. “Hello, Audrey.” Although she’d lived in the States for several years now, Marta’s Honduran accent still set her apart from the natives of Taylor’s Grove. She moved to the counter and directed her smile in Tess’s direction. “And hello, Tess. We are glad to have you with us.” Her dark eyes filled with question as they moved back to Audrey. “Are you back for good so soon?”
Too soon, Audrey thought, considering the circumstances that brought her back to live in Taylor’s Grove. But she knew it wasn’t what Marta was asking.
“We got things wrapped up in Florida faster than I expected,” she answered. “And just got to Mom and Da—” she paused to correct herself “—um, Mom’s late yesterday afternoon. But I thought the quicker I could get Tess back into school, the less she would have to catch up on.” Although that wasn’t much of an issue. School had started less than a week ago, and her daughter was very bright.
“I am sure she will catch up quickly.” Marta directed her comment to Tess, who nodded in response. The young woman reached under the counter and came up with a set of forms attached to a clipboard, which she handed to Audrey. “You will need to fill these papers out. She is starting today, then?”
Audrey looked at Tess. “What do you think, kiddo?”
“I think yes.”
“Okay, then.” Audrey took the papers and sat down in the chair to fill them out.
Tess pressed her nose against the side light panel by the door. “It smells like cookies out there.”
Marta gave a soft laugh as she came around the counter and held out her hand. “Shall we go to the kitchen and see if Mrs. Workman will let us sneak one out?”
“Yes!” Tess caught her hand and led the way out of the office.
Her daughter was bubbling with enthusiasm about everything this morning, but then, Mrs. Workman’s cookies were worthy of enthusiasm. Being the student picked to take the lunch count to the cafeteria and finding a reward of a warm oatmeal cookie waiting for you was one of the delights of growing up in Taylor’s Grove.
One of the many delights, Audrey reminded herself once again in an effort to convince her conscience this move was the right thing.
Her ex-husband, Alex, had done his best to make her feel guilty for moving Tess away from him and his new wife and her two children...and he’d done a good job.
Audrey could hear the monotonous low tone of Mr. Williams’s voice through the closed door of the principal’s office—another constant from her childhood. It didn’t matter when she left eleven years ago, she’d sworn she’d never move back. Circumstances changed. Life changed. And life changed you.
But Taylor’s Grove would always be home.
She stood up to place the completed forms on the counter just as Tess and Marta returned, hands and mouths filled with cookie.
Marta held out one wrapped in a napkin. “Mrs. Workman says welcome home.”
“Yay!” Audrey’s mouth watered before she could get the first bite. She gobbled it down while Marta made copies of the various items Audrey had been told to bring with her.
Finally, all was done. Marta gave Tess a wink. “Are you ready to go meet your teacher and your classmates?”
“Yes!” Tess did her signature tiptoe bounce.
Audrey laughed. “I’ve already told her how much she’s going to enjoy Mrs. Lively. What a great lady.”
Marta’s black eyebrows drew in with concern. “You have not heard then. Mrs. Lively retired two weeks ago.” She lowered her voice to a sympathetic tone. “Her husband has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, and they have decided to travel while they still can.”
“Oh.” Audrey’s heart sank at the news. “I hate to hear that. Randall’s been the mailman here for as long as I can remember.”
“A substitute is filling in for him.” Marta paused as if the remark called for a reverent moment of silence. “But we have a new teacher who has already taken Mrs. Lively’s place,” she said finally. “He is from here, so you probably know him. Mark Dublin?”
The name threw a punch to Audrey’s gut, knocking the wind from her lungs and depriving her brain of the oxygen needed to think straight.
