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Life Happens
Sandra Steffen
Mills & Boon Silhouette
She's Hiding Something…Well, everyone is hiding something–but Mya Donohue's secret is knocking on the front door, in no uncertain terms. Mya is about to answer to the daughter she'd given birth to nineteen years ago, and Elle has news for her biological mother. Mya is not only a mom, but a grandmother, too. And Elle isn't sticking around for long. She can't.Offering Mya their assistance are her best friends–the only ones who will dare tell her the truth in unmitigated terms; her mother–a woman still sowing her own share of wild oats; and Elle's father–a man of few words, but usually memorable ones, at that. (Note: Mya's current fiancé has conveniently decided to take a long walk.)
Praise for the work of Sandra Steffen
“Steffen is one of those authors whose characters and their emotions ring true, which makes each book a heartfelt treat.”
—Romantic Times
“Steffen’s characters are thoroughly and thoughtfully conceived…the charm of this tale lies in her lovely portrayal of complex family relationships.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Cottage
“Sandra Steffen is a veritable master at creating characters. On a scale of 1–10, a 15!”
—ReaderToReader.com
“Steffen knows exactly how hard to tug on readers’ heart-strings for maximum effect.”
—Booklist
“Warm, unforgettable characters come to life in Sandra’s small-town setting.”
—Round Table Reviews on Come Summer
“A compelling, heartwarming tale. Steffen is a talented author to watch.”
—Bestselling author Kat Martin on The Cottage
“A charming, intense story. High drama and gentle reflection—the perfect mix.”
—Bestselling author Stella Cameron on The Cottage
“A powerfully riveting story that pulls the reader from page one and doesn’t stop…one of the most original plots I’ve ever seen…flawless characterization.”
—Romance Reviews Today on Come Summer
Sandra Steffen
Sandra Steffen has always been a storyteller. She began nurturing this hidden talent by concocting adventures for her brothers and sisters, even though the boys were more interested in her ability to hit a baseball over the barn—an automatic home run. She didn’t begin her pursuit of publication until she was a young wife and mother of four sons. Since her thrilling debut as a published author in 1992, thirty-three of her novels have graced bookshelves across the country.
Professional reviewers have called Sandra a veritable master at creating characters, and her books well written, satisfying and intelligent. Her most cherished review came from her youngest son recently when he said, “Mom, I hear your voice as I’m reading your book.”
This winner of the RITA
Award, the Wish Award, and the National Readers Choice Award enjoys traveling with her husband. Usually their destinations are settings for her upcoming books. They are empty nesters these days. Who knew it could be so much fun? Please visit her at www.sandrasteffen.com.
Life Happens
Sandra Steffen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
From the Author
Dear Reader Friends,
I hope you enjoy Life Happens. I won’t apologize if this story makes you cry. If it does, I would have to apologize for making you smile, too. It’s human nature to feel as though laughter is somehow our due and tears our punishment, but aren’t both part of life?
The idea for Life Happens woke me from a deep sleep and came to me complete with a beginning, a middle and an end. It was the first time it had happened this way. From the moment of its conception, I knew I had to tell this poignant story, which began as a tribute to my beloved brother, who died on a blustery night in 1995. The details that led to that day aren’t unique: the diagnosis, the prayers, the bone-marrow transplant that failed, the hole his death left in our family. Just as losing Ron taught me more about life than death, Life Happens became a story about life, too, and the bond between a mother and child, and a man and a woman, a bond so strong it waited nearly two decades to spring up, so fierce it was painful and so full of hope and joy it became a power unto itself.
Like so many of life’s mysteries, Life Happens was a blessing in disguise, for it has led me down this path to this moment. I’ve been blessed many times over, with family and friends, laughter and luck, and with this gift I’ve been given that wakes me in the middle of the night with stories that insist upon being written. There is one more blessing I can’t fail to mention, and that blessing is you, dear reader friends.
Until next time and always…
Sandra
In loving memory of my brother, and all our brothers—
and sisters—who’ve fought life’s battles and lost,
and for all those who’ve won.
“The highest reward for your toil is not what you get for it but what you become of it.” —John Ruskin
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 1
M ya Donahue felt naked. And not in a good way.
What had she done?
Most of her hair, her beautiful, long, lustrous hair, was gone. What was left stuck out in four- and five-inch tufts, as if she’d gotten caught in some cosmic blender. She turned her head slightly. It was no use. It looked bad from every angle.
What had she been thinking?
She could have blamed it on the weather. For generations, the descendants of the Irishmen and Scotsmen who’d settled along this stretch of the rocky coast of Maine had insisted that days like this were at the root of all evil. The day was wet, windy and a little wild, but to blame? It wasn’t the weather. More likely it was the month. April was always a dangerous time for her.
“A trim?” Rolf had asked when she’d arrived at the trendy hair salon located directly above Brynn’s, her clothing boutique in Portland’s waterfront district.
For weeks she’d been watching Rolf’s clients traipse past her display windows, looking, if not gorgeous, at the very least fresh and totally transformed. During the lull after lunch today, Mya had flipped the Closed sign in the window and crept upstairs. Shutting the door on a gust of wind and the bawl of a far-off foghorn that sounded suspiciously like the voice of reason, she’d heard herself say, “Surprise me.”
Surprise me? Had she lost her mind?
Mya loved new trends: clunky-heeled shoes and boots of all kinds, low-slung pants and the latest jewelry. But other than an occasional trim, she never changed her hairstyle. Until today.
Even the window-shoppers and early tourists who’d never seen her before had watched her closely the rest of the day. Those who knew her were downright blunt.
“Whoa,” her after-school clerk exclaimed.
“You cut your hair!” the woman who owned the bookstore next door had said, in case Mya didn’t know.
Joe, the kindly deliveryman said, “Don’t worry. It’ll grow back.”
By the end of the afternoon, Mya had been ready to tell even the paying customers to stick their opinions. The old Mya would have. But the new Mya didn’t. The new and improved, cool, calm and collected Mya counted to ten and clenched so hard she nearly cracked a tooth.
Looking at her reflection in the safety of her own living room, she pulled at the wayward tresses. It was no use. She turned her back on the baroque mirror. Beseeching her two closest friends, she said, “What do you think?”
“Did you consult the personal emotional tides of the moon chart I gave you last Christmas?” Suzette Lewis asked.
Mya all but dropped her face into her hands. Until she’d met Suzette, the only thing she’d known about her astrological sign was that she was an Aries. “Do I look like I consulted anything?”
Suzette studied the uneven blond tendrils encircling Mya’s head. Petite and at times just a little too perky, Suzette said, “It isn’t that bad.”
Coming from Sunny Suzie, that meant it wasn’t that good, either. The accompanying smile was a bold-faced lie.
“Claire?” Mya asked the other woman.
As droll as Suzette was sunny, Claire O’Brien wore her dark hair long and loose, much the way she wore her clothes. Unlike Mya and Suzette, Claire wasn’t from Maine. Originally from upstate New York, there was something mysterious about her. Mya had never had a truer friend, or a more honest one, which Claire proved when she said, “In the future, I wouldn’t change your hairstyle the same week you become engaged.”
Suzette dropped into an overstuffed chair. “I still can’t believe you’re engaged.” Not many thirty-year-old women could pull off that whine. “I’m the one who’s always dreamed of marrying a doctor. It was my appendix that ruptured.”
Fighting queasiness, Mya muttered, “Don’t say ruptured.”
Pouting, Suzette said, “Fine. It was my appendix that expanded violently, and who was just coming off duty in E.R.? Only the best-looking doctor in the English-speaking world.”
Mya stopped tugging at her hair long enough to admit that Jeffrey was incredibly good-looking, although that wasn’t why she’d started seeing him.
“You’re right, Suzette,” Claire said from the sofa. “It was terribly inconsiderate of Mya to answer her phone in the dead of night when you called, sobbing. And it was thoughtless of her to throw on her clothes, brave a blinding snowstorm and her fear of hospitals and drive you to the Emergency Room, then wait not only until you came out of surgery, but until you were out of recovery, too.”
“Gosh, when you put it that way, maybe Mya does deserve that two-karat rock more than I do, even though I am the one who had emergency surgery. But Claire, she doesn’t even care about diamonds.”
Mya could only shrug, because it was true. Most of the time, she forgot the ring was there, which explained the fast little jolt she felt each time she caught the flash of it in her peripheral vision. She’d only been engaged for four days. Surely, she would get used to it.
“Where is the groom-to-be, anyway?” Suzette asked.
The door opened, and the three friends turned with varying degrees of interest. Mya was the only one who groaned, for it wasn’t Jeffrey at all.
“The cavalry to the rescue,” Claire said under her breath.
Never one to waste the spotlight, Mya’s mother lowered her umbrella and beamed all around. “Everyone I’ve talked to today has had it, HAD IT with this weather. That’s some dice-job, Mya.”
What little hair was left on the back of Mya’s neck stood on end. “This dice-job cost me eighty bucks.”
The older woman answered without missing a beat. “Which only proves what I’ve always said. Just because something’s more expensive doesn’t mean it’s better. Now let’s have a closer look.”
Mya had little choice but to succumb to the inspection that followed. After much tongue clicking and head shaking, her mother rummaged through her big, red purse for a pair of red-tipped scissors. Red was her mother’s favorite color. She wore red nail polish, red lipstick, red blush on her cheeks, red shoes, red everything. Even her ’95 Impala was red.
“Well? What do you think?” Mya asked.
“I think you paid too much. I only charge my customers twenty dollars for a shampoo, cut and blow job.”
Suzette gasped. Claire smirked. And Mya said, “I believe you mean blow-dry, Mom.”
“That’s what I said.”
Mya lifted her eyes heavenward. On her worst days, it behooved her to admit, with great lamentation, that it was still slightly, minutely, yet terrifyingly possible that she would become her mother.
