Love Detour

By Susan V. Vaughn

Life can change in the most unexpected ways.

Ashlyn Montana had encountered ghosts her whole life, but none more charming or irresistible than Bob Abbott. From the moment the fatherly figure floated into her life, she knew she met a friend she could trust. Pressured by her family to marry young, Ashlyn takes Bob's advice and goes on the run in disguise. But when he talks her into taking a job in Breaker Creek as a farm boy named Al, she becomes suspicious. Did her ghostly pal lead her to freedom, or entangle her into his past?

Hunter Abbott had no idea what he was getting into hiring the clueless and scrawny farm boy, Al. But he felt for the kid. There was a time he was once a lost boy looking for a place to belong, until his Uncle Bob took him under his wing. But when Hunter tries to help guide Al into a farmer it leads to a shocking discovery. His new hire is hiding an unbelievable secret. And Hunter is about to face a reality he never thought possible.

Can the two people Bob Abbot loves most, find love as they work to solve the mystery of his murder?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: May 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781945910746

Book preview

Prologue

The day of Bob Abbott’s funeral was dark and stormy. The air was clammy and thick—the usual late August Michigan weather. The steady rain did nothing to ward off the heat. And it seemed as if a cloud had settled on their small town of Breaker Creek. The fog was so thick you could barely see your hand in front of your face.

Hunter picked up his large hand and examined his long fingers. There was a callous on every single one. A sign of a farmer. And that’s what he was at twenty-six, a six-foot, 200-pound, homegrown, corn-fed farmer. His Uncle Bob had also been a farmer. It was Abbott Farm Hunter had grown up on, and it was Bob who taught him everything he knew about farming. In return, Hunter became the son Bob always wanted but never had.  

They were more than uncle and nephew, or even father and son. They were best friends. Hunter still felt protective of Bob, even though he was gone. There were whisperings in town that his Aunt Jamie had been having an affair on her husband for years. Hunter wasn’t sure that was true. It was town gossip, after all. But he wouldn’t be surprised if it was. The only thing Jamie ever seemed interested in on Abbott Farm, especially the last few years of Bob’s life, was collecting her portion of the profits from apple season.

Abbott farm had a large apple orchard and made most of its money in the fall, when it opened its doors to the surrounding communities for hay rides and apple picking. And who ran most of those hay rides? Who did all the heavy labor around the farm as Bob aged? Not Bob’s precious wife. But Hunter, the man she treated like dirt.

Bob was a good man, but his spouse was cold. Even before his uncle was officially in the ground, Jamie was already discussing selling Abbott Farm. Bob’s entire legacy was about to go down the drain.

Unless he could stop it.

Aunt Jamie, can I talk to you for a second?

He was expecting those cold gray eyes of hers to land on him, but when they did it still made his stomach turn. His aunt had a skinny face that was heavily wrinkled and always sullen. Except when she was looking at him. Then her gaze would darken with hate. From the day his mother left him on the doorstep of Abbott farm, Jamie had resented him. She didn’t want to be bothered caring for a child that wasn’t her own, and she was very vocal about that fact. She despised all the time Bob spent with Hunter rather than her, and was vocal about that as well. Actually, there wasn’t much Aunt Jamie wasn’t vocal about, especially when it came to voicing her displeasure over his existence.

She tucked a piece of wiry gray hair behind her ear. I didn’t realize you were still here, Hunter. I thought you left with the rest of Bob’s acquaintances after the funeral.

There it was. His aunt was an expert at showing people where they stood. In one sentence she told him he wasn’t family, or even an acquaintance to her. And that he should get lost with the rest of Bob’s stupid friends.

He took a deep, steadying breath. He had taken his aunt’s abuse for years, because he knew there was no winning with someone so hateful, and because he respected Bob. Now that Bob was dead, Hunter really had no reason to take Jamie’s shit. But if he checked her now, it would never end. All of his negative emotion towards his aunt had been bottled up too long. It would come out like a never-ending volcano eruption, and this wasn’t the place for an eruption. On top of that, this conversation wasn’t about him. This was about his uncle, and all the work he had put into Abbott Farm. He had to fight for Bob.

I’m going to leave as soon as we have a talk, he told her.

About?

Our farm.

Don’t you mean my farm? she corrected, with an icy smile. The deed is in my name now that my husband, God rest his soul, has passed away. And I have decided to sell.

Hunter felt his control slipping, and his teeth clenching. Didn’t this woman have any feeling for her husband of over twenty-five years? That’s not what Bob would have wanted, and you know that.

How dare you assume you know more about my husband that I do. Her lips twisted with disgust. He left the deed in my name because he trusted me to do the right thing. And the right thing is to sell.

He sighed. Winning a verbal argument with Jamie was impossible. She was a champion with words. I don’t want to fight about this.

Then, don’t. Stop arguing with a widow. You are overstepping your bounds. Bob might have taken you under his wing because he wanted so damn bad to have a child... She paused, and her eyes flickered with pain before she turned away to hide it. What happens to the farm is none of your business, she continued callously. At the end of the day, you are not his son.

After nearly seventeen years, he still felt the burn of his aunt’s hate towards him deep in his heart. He shouldn’t care what she thought, and yet, she had fed him and given him a place to live for years, despite her obvious revulsion. She was more of a mother to him than then his own absent one, and her approval still meant something to him. Even though he would never get it.

I already found a buyer, Jamie announced, ready, as always, to end the conversation between them.

His chest stopped burning and began stabbing. Who?

Gary Cutter.

If there ever were a worse buyer for his uncle, it would be his rival farmer Gary. The Cutter Farm was on the other side of town, and competed with his uncle in both produce and meat. The only thing Cutter Farm didn’t have was an orchard. Hunter knew that fact drove Gary nuts, and he would do anything to get himself an orchard. And now the skinny old man would have his wish. How could his aunt be so cruel?

You can’t sell to Gary, he said, fighting the urge to scream.

I’m going to sign the paperwork on Monday.

All the air left his chest at once. Sell everything Bob worked for to his rival in less than two days? He had no idea Jamie would move so fast, but apparently, she did, and he could tell by the look in her eye there was no way to stop what had been done.

When I sign the papers, you get ten percent, Jamie added, her voice small and sour.

What?

Evidently, Bob added you to his will five years ago. Not only did she sound disgusted by this revelation, but she stuck out her tongue as well. Bob’s lawyer informed me that I have to pay you a cut of our profits when I sell Abbott Farm. She held his gaze, smiling cruelly. Looks like you get something after all.

He didn’t want ten percent. He wanted to save Bob’s legacy. His uncle moved to Breaker Creek to build a life for himself. He started out with only five acres of land, just west of what would one day become Abbott Farm. He lived in an old two-bedroom farmhouse right off the creek, and worked that tiny five acres until he had enough corn to turn a profit. Then he expanded.

He met Jamie early on in his farming career. They got married and moved into that small farmhouse together. He even named that original farm after her. And now she was not only going to sell that little plot of land but Abbott Farm too. Where was her heart?

I don’t want the ten percent, he told her.

Her smile broadened. Oh good, can we get that in writing?

He ignored his aunt’s sarcasm, because suddenly he realized what he needed to do. How he could keep a little of Bob’s legacy alive. I want Jamie farm.

Her eyes narrowed. Why? It’s only a few acres of land and a broken down farmhouse.

He held her gaze. It was more than that. It was where Bob began his farm life. It was where he made his dreams. Jamie Farm had more than monetary value, and they both knew it.

Exactly, he said. It’s of no consequence to you. I know ten percent of what you make off Abbott Farm will be more than that little plot of land is worth.

He held his breath while his Aunt considered his proposal. On the one hand, she knew he wanted something, which naturally made her want to take it away from him. But on the other hand, Jamie Farm was too small to be worth anything to her. On top of that she wasn’t into the farm life anymore, obviously, or she wouldn’t be selling Bob’s legacy to Gary.

I’ll have to talk to Gary, she finally said, turning away from him.

Fine. He wondered what she was thinking. Her voice sounded too robotic now to reveal any emotion. And yet, she had turned away, a sure sign she was feeling something she didn’t want him to read on her face.

If we agree, Jamie muttered. I want you to sign away your ten percent.

He was almost there, almost to victory. He felt the excitement grow inside of his chest and fought hard to keep his voice neutral. If he showed too much enthusiasm, his aunt would probably retract her offer. As soon as I have the keys to Jamie Farm, I will sign whatever you want.

Jamie didn’t respond for a long time. She just stood there, her back turned to him, staring at her husband’s casket. Again, he wondered what she was thinking. Whether she was feeling any sort of sentiment.

But then she nodded her head, and said simply, We’ll be in touch.

He watched her walk away, and when he was completely alone, standing before his uncle’s casket with only the rain to keep him company, he uttered a final promise to the only father he had ever known. I will rebuild your legacy.

Chapter 1

Ashlyn Louise Montana sank a bit lower behind her fiancé’s bed, pressing her back against the wall. She was covered in so much pink tulle that it pressed against each corner of his bedroom. The corset she wore was choking the life out of her, but that wasn’t the reason she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe because she was minutes away from marrying one of the worst men she had ever met.

She was only a few years past her teens. Way too young to get married by today’s standards, but her parents didn’t see it that way. She was too old not to be married in their Gypsy culture. She had descended from a long line of Irish travelers, and although her family had been in the United States for generations, she was still expected to uphold the beliefs of her ancestors. A woman’s place was at home, cooking and cleaning for her Gypsy husband and making babies. The sooner in life she married, the better.

Most of Ash’s cousins were already married. At twenty-one, she was considered an old maid. None of that bothered Ash. She never really fit into the Gypsy social scene. When she wasn’t outside enjoying long walks in the Georgia sunshine, she was tucked away in her bed reading. Ash was an introvert at heart, and she wasn’t afraid of being bored. She rather liked those times she could just sit and daydream about the library she wanted to own, and the book-loving people she wanted to meet. She would have stayed in her parents' home down South for the rest of her life, cooking and cleaning for her father and her twin brother, Teddy, if it were up to her.

But, as Ash learned early in life, few things were up to her. So, when her father announced the week before that she was to marry Joe Potter, a twenty-year-old Gypsy boy from Indiana, she wasn’t shocked, just disappointed. But when she met Joe and realized he was nothing but an ignorant, piggish loser who treated women like garbage, her disappointment turned quickly into dread. She didn’t want a husband at all, let alone one that would make her life a living hell. For someone who needed peace in her life, this marriage was an intolerable fate.

She felt her chest tighten and grabbed onto the front of her corset, trying to loosen it. She couldn’t breathe. In less than an hour she would be wed to the most despicable man she had ever known, and all for what? To uphold her family’s traditions?

Teddy certainly didn’t believe in those traditions. Only a minute ago he had handed her a pair of scissors and his old t-shirt and jeans. With calm confidence, he advised her to cut off her hair, dress like a boy, and make a run for it. According to her brother, a boy would be safer out there in the unknown and attract less notice.

Teddy was facing his own arranged marriage in a couple of weeks, and, after meeting Ash’s future husband, he did not seem confident in their father’s ability to pick out a future spouse. He wanted Ash to run, so he could do the same. But she had to go first. It was always their thing growing up. She did the scary thing first, then he followed suit after he had known it was safe. Just like when they were born, and she went sailing out of their mother feet first. Teddy had probably pushed her.  

Ash tried to smile, failed miserably, and took two deep breaths instead. She loved her family and the fact that she had so many people she could depend on. She was content living at home, and reading her books. And that was exactly why she was in the predicament she was in. She was an oddity in her culture. A woman who didn’t dress to be noticed, and didn’t care to be married. She was probably the only person in her family who owned her own New York Times subscription. Her parents used to make a huge fuss about that, and the fact that she refused to go out, dress up, and secure a Gypsy husband. But when she turned twenty-one all that badgering stopped. As long as she did what was expected of her at home, they left her alone. She actually thought they had given up on the idea of her getting married—until her father arranged this horrible marriage behind her back.

She fought him on it, or at least she tried. But his mind was made up. He drove her down to Indiana and dumped her at Joe’s one bedroom trailer, where she was forced to go put on an elaborate dress with tons of pink tulle, which added insult to injury because she preferred the color black. Not that her parents cared about what she preferred. Her choices were never her own.

She placed her head in her hands, fighting back tears. Why can’t I just be who I am?

Ash? Where are you, kid?

The sound of Bob’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard, making her cringe. I’m over here, underneath all this tulle, she said miserably.

Bob’s laughter was more horrible than his voice. She saw his ghostly form, hovering just above Joe’s bed as if he were actually sitting on it. He even crossed his large legs for added effect. If Bob weren’t dead, she wasn’t sure the full mattress could stand his massive size. He must have been well over six feet when he was alive, and at least three hundred pounds.

She rolled her eyes because the only thing scary about Bob was his terrible sense of humor. Why are you laughing at me?

Because you look like a hot pink cupcake.

Gee, thanks, Bob. Like she needed the reminder.

But even wearing a cupcake dress, you somehow pull it off.

She raised her brow. Was that a compliment?

Face it, kid, you hit the genetic lottery.

Definitely a compliment. Lucky me. I’d rather hit the real lottery.

Wouldn’t we all.

Not you, buddy. You’re dead, remember?

Bob sighed. I can’t see my image in the mirror, I can’t drink a beer, and I can’t listen to my own voice without shivering. Yeah, I’m dead. Trust me I know.

Ash stood up—which was quite a feat—to look Bob in his translucent eyes. The big man was dead, but his presence gave her comfort. At least she wasn’t alone in this stinking trailer. I’m supposed to marry Joe today.

When?

Now, now. She threw her hands in the air. In any second I’m going to be that idiot’s wife.

Crap.

No kidding, crap. She placed her head in her hands, ready to throw a child’s tantrum. I don’t want to marry him!

Then at some point, you’ve got to tell your parents the truth.

She looked up and glared at him. And at some point, you’ve got to move on to the other side.

Bob scratched through his transparent chin, looking distraught. She hurt him with that one. She knew why. She had seen ghosts her whole life. Bob wasn’t her first apparition. Normally, some recently deceased person, lost on their way to the other side, would find her and leech on, looking for some clarity. She would tell them they were dead, remind them to move on, and usually, they would go. Some stuck around for a few days and kept her company. But never longer than that.

Then there was Bob. He had come to her about a year ago, while she was reading the New York Times and sipping her morning coffee. He was standing in her parents' kitchen, lost, despite knowing he was dead. And now they were stuck together.

You know I can’t move on, Kid, he whispered.

You will one day. If she could say something to comfort him she would. She felt terrible for hurting Bob, all because she couldn’t handle her life. I truly believe that. I’m sorry I upset you.

You didn’t upset me. I’m a ghost. I don’t get upset.

They both smiled, and they both knew it was a lie. Ghost felt everything humans did. Maybe more.

Okay, I’ve thought about your problem, and I’ve got some advice.

Advice? This was new. Bob didn’t usually give his opinion of what she should do. Sudden hope flooded her chest. Tell me.

I think you should run away.

Oh, you are just like Teddy! she cried, picking up the items her brother had handed that morning. He offered me scissors, and clothes, and told me to chop off my hair and run. As if it were that easy! She couldn’t run away. She had no money, and she didn’t know anybody in Indiana but her future husband.

Ash, I know this is scary, thinking about running from your wedding. But I think Teddy has a point. Bob floated nearer, looking over the items her brother gave her. Consider what your life would be like if you stayed. If you married Joe.

She closed her eyes, thinking about Joe—his greasy hair, his heavy cologne, the way he made her skin crawl when his gaze dipped down her chest. She wouldn’t last a day in that marriage without losing herself. He would make that secret spark inside of her disappear. He would ruin her life. I can’t marry him.

Then run.

Where?

You have a little bit of money, right?

Like, two hundred dollars. The money she had saved from babysitting over the years.

That’s enough to take a bus to Breaker Creek.

She didn’t say where the hell is Breaker Creek, and why are you suggesting I go there, but he appeared to know her thoughts, because he added, It’s a little farm town in Michigan, where I used to live.

Her jaw dropped. You remember where you used to live? Most ghosts didn’t even remember their own names, let alone the details of their lives. Of course, she had never