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Dakota Born
Debbie Macomber
Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisDebbie Macomber invites you to come and meet the best friends you could ever make… Lindsay Snyder is a newcomer to Buffalo Valley, the little town struggling to make ends meet. She might be an outsider but she’s also a breath of fresh air and she can see that, while the houses need a coat of paint, there’s also a spirit of hope.Escaping heartbreak, Lindsay finds comfort being back in the place she spent childhood holidays. She’s excited to see the family house again, to explore family secrets and find solace…she’s not expecting to make a whole host of new friends.From Hassie Knight, town matriarch, and ex-biker Buffalo Bob Carr, to Gage Sinclair, the good-looking farmer who’s wary of this new city girl. Lindsay was never expecting small town life to be for her. But she’s starting to discover all the best reasons to stay…
Make time for friends. Make time for
Debbie Macomber
CEDAR COVE
16 Lighthouse Road
204 Rosewood Lane
311 Pelican Court
44 Cranberry Point
50 Harbor Street
6 Rainier Drive
74 Seaside Avenue
8 Sandpiper Way
92 Pacific Boulevard
1022 Evergreen Place
1105 Yakima Street
A Merry Little Christmas
(featuring 1225 Christmas Tree Lane and 5-B Poppy Lane)
BLOSSOM STREET
The Shop on Blossom Street
A Good Yarn
Susannah’s Garden
(previously published as Old Boyfriends)
Back on Blossom Street
(previously published as Wednesdays at Four)
Twenty Wishes
Summer on Blossom Street
Hannah’s List
A Turn in the Road
Thursdays at Eight
Christmas in Seattle
Falling for Christmas
Angels at Christmas
A Mother’s Gift
A Mother’s Wish
Happy Mother’s Day
Be My Valentine
THE MANNINGS
The Manning Sisters
The Manning Brides
The Manning Grooms
Summer in Orchard Valley
THE DAKOTAS
Dakota Born
Dakota Home
Always Dakota
The Farmer Takes a Wife
(Exclusive short story)
Dear Friends,
I’ve been looking forward to seeing the DAKOTA series in print again! And judging by the letters and e-mails I’ve received over the past few years, so have many of you.
These books are special to me. They reflect the fact that the Dakotas are an important part of my own heritage. My mother was born and raised in Dickinson, North Dakota, and my father came from Ipswich, South Dakota. The Dakotas and the immigrants who settled there shaped my parents’ lives and, in turn, shaped mine. In November 1998 I flew into Minneapolis and met my cousin Shirley Adler.
With a rental car and a map, we toured the Dakotas, laughing ourselves sick along the way, sharing childhood memories. I looked up cousins I hadn’t seen in more than thirty years and savoured some wonderful moments with Aunt Gladys in Dickinson and with Aunt Betty and Uncle Vern in Aberdeen, South Dakota. Uncle Vern has since died, which makes the memories of that visit even more precious. At the time of his death, he and Aunt Betty had been married for seventy-two years!
While I was on this research trip, two writing friends—Judy Baer and Sandy Huseby, both of North Dakota—provided invaluable assistance. They answered countless questions and shared their love and pride in their state with me. I can only hope I did North Dakota justice. And I hope you enjoy this story about finding love in a small town.
PS I’d be delighted to hear from you! You can reach me at my website, www.debbiemacomber.com, or write to me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.
Dakota Born
Debbie Macomber
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
To Shirley Adler
My cousin and cherished friend
Prologue
Ten-year-old Lindsay Snyder woke rigid with fear. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The room was as dark as coal and hot, terribly hot. Then she realized she wasn’t home in Savannah where the air conditioner cooled the worst of the summer heat. She tried not to be afraid, but she was.
The ghost stories she’d heard at camp that summer returned to haunt her. A sudden chill raced down her spine as she recalled the tale of Crazy Man Charlie who was said to tear out people’s eyes … before he murdered them. Somehow, Crazy Man Charlie had found her. Everyone else must be dead. Everyone but her. The dream remained vague, and she tried to remember the details and couldn’t.
Slowly she sat up in the darkness, prepared to confront whatever danger awaited her. As she did, she remembered she was at her grandparents’ house with her parents and two sisters. They’d arrived that evening after driving for what seemed like days and days to North Dakota.
Her eyes had begun to adjust to the night, and Lindsay climbed out of the makeshift bed in her grandma’s sewing room. She tiptoed past her two sleeping sisters and down the hallway to the kitchen for a glass of water.
A sound came from the living room and she froze at the thought of meeting Crazy Man Charlie face-to-face. Holding her breath, she flattened herself against the refrigerator door.
Then Lindsay saw her Grandma Gina, silhouetted in the moonlight that streamed through the big window. The heavy curtains were pulled open and her grandma stood by the brick fireplace, head bent. Lindsay would have rushed to her for a hug and told her all about the crazy man and how scared she’d been, but she didn’t know her Grandma Gina as well as she did her Grandma Dorothy. So she stayed in the kitchen, waiting for her grandmother to notice her.
Except her grandma hadn’t heard Lindsay and didn’t know she was there. Lindsay could see that her grandmother held something in her hand, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Grandma Gina moved closer to the fireplace, but it wasn’t light enough for Lindsay to see what she was doing.
Lindsay’s eyes widened as her grandmother leaned forward and touched the fireplace. A sort of scraping sound followed and a brick slid out. It was a hiding place! A secret hiding place.
Fascinated, Lindsay watched as her grandmother slipped whatever she held in her hand inside the opening. The brick made the same sound as it went back into place.
“Grandma?”
Her hand over her heart, Grandma Gina whirled around. “Good heavens, child! You frightened me.”
Lindsay hurried into the living room and toward the fireplace, but she couldn’t figure out which brick her grandmother had moved.
“What are you doing up?”
Lindsay looked away from the fireplace. “I had a dream about Crazy Man Charlie.”
“Who?”
“I heard stories about him at summer camp.” She ran her fingers along the fireplace, trying to work out which brick had moved. “What did you hide in here, Grandma?”
“It’s nothing, child.”
“But I saw the brick move.”
Her grandmother shook her head. “It was … just a trick of the moonlight.”
“But, Grandma, I saw.”
Her grandmother crouched down, meeting her eyes. “The stories frightened you.”
Her wrinkled face was marked with the streaks of tears that glistened in the moonlight. “Grandma, are you crying?”
“No … no,” her grandmother insisted. “Why would I be crying?”
“But that’s what it looks like.” Lindsay raised her hand to her grandmother’s cheek and brushed her fingertips tentatively against the soft skin.
Her grandmother tried to smile, but her lower lip quivered.
“Are you sad?” Lindsay asked.
“A little,” she whispered, and hugged Lindsay close, so close she could feel the beating of her grandma’s heart.
“I’ll draw you a picture, and then you won’t be sad anymore.”
“You sweet, sweet child. Now let me take you back to bed.”
“I’m thirsty.”
She released Lindsay and led her into the kitchen, where she took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.
Her grandma had let the tap run and the water was nice and cold. Lindsay gulped it down, then put the glass on the counter. “What did you hide in the fireplace?” she asked again. She didn’t understand why Grandma Gina was pretending like this.
Her grandmother gently stroked the hair from her face. “You didn’t see anything.”
“But I did.” Walking over to the fireplace, Lindsay tried really hard to find the spot her grandmother had touched. She pushed and prodded at various bricks, but nothing moved.
Her grandmother joined her. “Lindsay, look at me.”
Lindsay turned around.
Her grandmother crouched down again. The tears were back in her eyes and she hugged Lindsay tightly. “What you saw is our secret, all right?”
Lindsay nodded.
“But I want you to forget all about it.”
Lindsay didn’t know if she could.
