Unlikely Love

By Connie Faith Cooley

Eighteen-year-old Hayley Harris has suffered more than her share of loss and disappointment, and is embittered toward God.

While her beloved mother lies in a coma, long-hidden family secrets begin to surface, and Hayley discovers that nothing is as it seems. Questioning her own identity and struggling to untangle the web of lies and deception, she finds herself surrounded by family that she never knew existed and begins to rediscover feelings and emotions long suppressed.

Will Hayley act on her unrelenting desire for revenge against her abuser? Will the scars of her past prevent her from allowing love into her life?

Journey with Hayley on her roller coaster of transformation, as she experiences the power of Prayer, the wonder of Grace, the liberation of Mercy, and the redeeming force of Unlikely Love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781512776751

Connie Faith Cooley

The youngest of six children, Connie was born Connie Faith Rose. Her parents instilled in her the spiritual devotion and discipline so evident in her debut novel. Connie has been a professional singer and drummer for forty-four years. Having experienced her own share of trauma and hardship, she writes both literature and music with empathy and insight on the power of Gods redeeming grace. Connie has been licensed as a certified Christian exhorter, through Faith Christian Fellowship International and, more recently, earned a Certificate of Christian Foundations through Victory Bible Institute. Formerly the music buyer and manager of a Christian bookstore, she has long been immersed in the world of Christian literature. She currently serves as a praise and worship leader and drummer in her local church. Connie resides in Hays, Kansas with her husband and a handsome, twenty pound, Maine Coon cat. She has a married son, a married step-son, and is blessed with two exceptional daughters-in-law and three beautiful granddaughters.

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Copyright © 2018 Connie Faith Cooley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scriptures from the King James version.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7676-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7677-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7675-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017902936

WestBow Press rev. date: 8/21/2018

CONTENTS

Part One

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Part Two

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Part Three

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Acknowledgments

About the Author

This book is dedicated to my family, friends, and readers.

Thank you for your patience and understanding while this project was in process

and for helping me get this book into the hands of as many people as we possibly can.

"But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.

Luke 6:27, 28 (NASB)

"Fear not, for I am with you;

Be not dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you,

Yes, I will help you,

I will uphold you with My righteous right hand."

Isaiah 41:10 (NKJV)

If you listen very closely, the Holy Spirit sings

In the brook, the birds, the breeze, the blooms;

O the wondrous delights of spring.

(Connie Faith Cooley 2018)

PART ONE

CHAPTER 1

M ay arrived in the midst of incessant spring rains. I should have been happy after the long drought we’d endured, but as I gazed at the downpour splattering against Kenna’s bedroom window, my mood was a close match to the gloomy, depressing day. I could barely see as far as the gazebo Ryder had so proudly erected years earlier. As I watched, little pieces of shake from its aging roof chipped off and flew up an inch or two with each merciless, pelting drop. My fragile heart felt just like that roof.

I was perched on one purple corner of Kenna’s comfy, quilt-covered bed. She was curled up contentedly in her desk chair, with her nail kit and a bottle of deep red lacquer, talking non-stop about her dad’s new acreage in the country and his awesome new friend, Brooke.

I lived for news of Ryder, but whenever Kenna talked about him, I was bombarded by an array of emotions I dared not share, not even with her. It had been nearly two years since I’d seen him at his healthy best, and I could never let on how much I missed him. A twinge of envy aroused feelings of animosity toward this Brooke. What makes her so special that she has the privilege of his regular company?

A flash of lightning illuminated the budding tulips that Ryder and I and the twins had joyfully planted around the newly constructed gazebo one long-ago October Saturday. I focused for that briefly-lighted moment on the splendor of color those faithful flowers offered, hoping to brighten the corners of my consciousness; but a delayed crack of thunder made me jump and further deepened the shadows of my longing. I wonder what he’s doing right now. I wonder if he misses this house, his family … me.

In the years before Ryder gave up his house to Candice and the twins, he and I spent long hours working together in their backyard. Ryder was passionate about gardening and landscaping and seemed to enjoy having me work alongside him. Gently and tirelessly he taught and guided me with knowledge and insight he’d accumulated over many years, encouraging my fascination with turning raw earth into something beautiful and beneficial. He was certain that getting your hands in soil was good for the soul, and when he regarded me warmly with eyes the color of the forest and spoke from his lofty height with a tenderness that belied expectation, he had no trouble convincing me it was true. I could still see him in his grimy Levis and dusty black boots, down on his knees with his hands at home in the dirt, his charming lopsided smile evidence of how gratifying that kind of work was for him.

Ryder was so proud of the little haven we’d created. Many balmy nights were spent right here, with a blazing fire and our guitars. Now the well-used fire pit brimmed with water, and the woodpile I’d helped stack looked saturated and sad.

Running a hand through my day-old hair, I willfully switched my focus to other matters cluttering my brain. I hadn’t slept well the last couple of nights. My older sister, Elise, was home from college, and familiar feelings of rivalry born of a lifetime of never measuring up had quickly resurfaced. My high school graduation was fast approaching, and I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. There was no money for me to consider college, and the wage I earned at the music store fell far short of what I would need to move into my own place.

Kenna’s dangly earrings clinked as she looked over at me. Hayley! Hello! Have you heard a single word I’ve said?

I turned and met her quizzical gaze. Yes, I’m listening, sweetie, I sighed.

Kenna appeared so cool and confident. She seemed to have none of my insecurities and doubts about the future. We’d just had Friday off for teachers’ in-service, and she and Matt had spent their long weekend in Irving with their dad. Kenna had come home with red highlights in her hair and was looking especially beautiful. She was always doing something to enhance her appearance. I’d rather hide than worry about how I looked.

By the way, your hair is awesome! I said. You look very exotic.

She smiled and glanced toward her dresser mirror. Thanks. I’m still trying to get used to seeing myself this way.

The red suits you. Was that Brooke’s idea?

Yeah, it was her treat for graduation. She really is amazing, Hay.

Hmph, I sniffed. She’ll have to prove herself to me.

She bought Matt some new clothes too.

Really? Matt had been walking around in high-water pants for a while now.

Yeah. He’s already outgrown the ones he got for Christmas.

I know. We both giggled. It was hard to believe the gangly little boy we’d grown up with could possibly be six feet tall. Your hair couldn’t have cost as much as his new clothes.

No, she also bought me this nail polish, some makeup, that scarf over there, and a pair of short red boots.

Very cool, I said.

Oh, and two new Christian novels.

Kenna knew I loved to read, but she also knew I didn’t usually choose to read Christian fiction, in spite of her enthusiasm for it and my mom’s insistence that it was the only fiction worthy of occupying a place in my psyche. After the murder mystery I’d recently finished, I was starting to see her point.

Maybe I’ll read them when you’re done, I said casually.

She gave me a wry look. That’ll be the day.

Hey, never lose hope. I smiled playfully over my shoulder, and we settled easily into a familiar, comfortable pause.

Kenna and I were soul mates; we always looked out for each other. But I had to admit that her part in the arrangement had been well tested through the years. She faithfully stood by me through thick and thin, never letting my occasional neuroses affect her opinion of me. Even when I didn’t care if I saw the light of another day, she managed to stay positive, hopeful, and encouraging.

I turned my attention to the unattended overgrowth of vines and shrubs pushing against Candice’s back fence, visible now that the rain had finally let up. If Ryder were still living here, this would not be happening. Sitting there staring at the formerly prized yet long-neglected backyard, I felt like a part of my soul was missing.

I’d looked up to Ryder Davidson for as long as I could remember. He was always so solid, capable, and dependable. He taught me things right alongside Kenna and Matt that a dad normally teaches his own kids—at least dads whose kids are growing up in the heartland of America—like how to drive, check oil, change a tire, and put in gas. He taught us safety when building a fire, handling a firearm, or riding a four-wheeler. It was Ryder who taught me how to play guitar and grill a steak—not to mention the respect for nature and the environment he inspired and nurtured in me. It was easy to imagine that he was my dad. And I did that a lot.

Those few carefree years when I spent all my free time with Ryder and the twins now seemed like another lifetime. Was it really only four years ago? If only I could go back …

I closed my eyes against the dismal day and pictured him as I had a million times—wearing his ageless black leather vest and straddling his Harley, the muscles of his long limbs taut, brown tendrils curling around the edge of his bandana. He was a captivating combination of masculine charisma and endearing vulnerability. Occasionally, he would take each of us in turn for long rides on his bike. It was those times, when I got to be alone with him, that I treasured the most.

He would park the Harley, and we would hike and explore for hours, enjoying the wonder of the outdoors together. This rugged, muscular man knew the names of all the plants, trees, birds, and even insects. We loved to gather bouquets of wild flowers and pretty weeds. He would kneel to my level and delicately point out intricate details with his long, weathered fingers, naming each one. His voice was always gentle and kind, yet full of passion for the wonder of the world around him. His enthusiasm was contagious, and those blissful hours always left me hungry for more. All too soon, it would come time for me to return home.

My home life stood in stark contrast to time spent with the Davidsons. I guess I admired Ryder so much because he was so opposite from the disaster of a father I got stuck with. I had a great mom, but my dad was a quick-tempered, redheaded narcissist with a disgusting pot belly and a chip on his shoulder. For much of my life he’d had an unquenchable thirst. And Jack was not a happy drunk. I had no memory of him ever being nice to me. In fact, he hardly spoke to me except to criticize or demoralize. He was mean and belligerent; his words cutting, cruel, and humiliating. I always figured the problem had to be me. He practically worshiped Elise. Sometimes I was sure I’d been adopted. I couldn’t imagine how I could possibly be related to someone so completely dissimilar to me. Anyway, at an early age, I became very good at avoiding Jack.

So, it was a good weekend? I asked Kenna, hoping to bring the focus back to Ryder.

Yeah, but I wish you could have been there. You’d like Brooke. She’s really cool. Dad says she saved his life. Kenna uncurled one leg and placed her foot on the edge of the desk where she could see her toes. Dad’s so different now. Her emerald eyes flashed her conviction in my direction. I don’t know what went on at that place, but it’s obvious it was all good. He’s back to his old self—only better.

Picturing him brought images of sandy shores and friendly campfires fluttering through my head, and I was overtaken by a huge sigh. The four of us had been practically inseparable. We spent many summer weekends at Redmon Lake with members of Ryder’s bike club, The Brothers, where Ryder taught us how to camp, fish, and target shoot.

It seems like forever since we’ve all been together at the lake, I said longingly.

Kenna glanced up. She was accustomed to my rabbit-trail thought life and random statements. I know, right? Dad and Matt were talking about old times just yesterday.

So, what all did you guys do over the long weekend?

Well, we went fishing right away on Thursday evening after the rain stopped, so Dad could try out his new pond. Then we broke in his backyard fire pit by cooking the fish we caught. Friday, it rained all day, so we spent it staining woodwork in the new house.

Cool.

Yesterday morning Dad wanted us to help him in the garden, but it was too wet, so we ended up spending the day with Brooke. In the afternoon, she took me to get my hair done, and then we all went to the Mall. Last night she invited Jesse over, and we hung out talking and playing games. I noticed a twinkle in Kenna’s eyes with the mention of this Jesse. This morning we all went to church.

Church. I didn’t want to think about that. I stretched my arms out behind me, leaned back on my hands, and crossed my ankles. Tell me more about Jesse, I diverted.

Kenna stiffened slightly as she carefully turned her last toenail red. When she looked up, her eyes revealed more than she was likely to admit. He’s really cool, Hay. He’s related to Brooke somehow. He lives with his grandparents on a farm a couple of miles up the road from Dad’s new place.

He lives with his grandparents? That must be awesome! I’d give anything for just one more day with Grama and Grampa Moore.

Jack’s parents were strangers to me, but I had been close to my mom’s parents when I was very young. In fact, their home was my refuge—a place where Mom could send me when things got bad with Jack. The peaceful, loving atmosphere was my safe haven in a stormy childhood. They seemed to understand how miserable I was at home and would often let me stay overnight. They made sure I went to Sunday school every Sunday and taught me life lessons I would never have learned in Jack’s house. Their sudden, untimely death left me feeling trapped—and secretly terrified.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stood, stretched, and stepped behind Kenna. It was good to have her home, and she deserved my full attention. I dragged my stubby nails gently over her scalp, gathering her thick, dark hair up into one hand and working my fingers gently down both sides of her neck with the other.

She moaned softly. Yeah, right there … ahh.

Is he cute?

She snickered softly. Very! She gingerly screwed the lid onto the bottle of nail polish, pushed it aside with her elbow, and leaned into my hands.

I’m glad you had a good weekend, Kenna. You and Matt both seem happier lately.

When things fell apart between Ryder and Candice, it was hard on all of us. Matt handled the whole thing with humor as if everything was just fine—but things weren’t fine. Candi had been having an affair right under everyone’s noses.

In the months prior, Ryder had grown distant and brooding, spending a lot of time alone. He hadn’t wanted to do our usual weekends. I walked into the garage for a rake one day and found him there, slouched on a chair in the corner with his guitar. The air was pungent with marijuana smoke, and he was using the long neck of his beer bottle as a slide, skillfully emitting long strains of mournful blues. He looked up at me with his adorable crooked smile and beckoned me to his side. Pulling me in close, he crooned to me—words I didn’t fully understand but will never forget: Sweet girl, I’m so sorry. I wish things could be different … that I could make things better for you. I didn’t know why he was talking to me that way when his marriage was falling apart. I wondered if he even realized who he was talking to.

After Ryder moved out of the house, Candice sat down with the twins one day and revealed to them that they had been conceived outside of wedlock; that she and Ryder were dating at the time but not planning to marry. When she found out she was pregnant, she went to live with her mother in Florida. But once she learned that there were two babies on the way, she and her mother both felt she should try to make things work with Ryder. She returned to Fleming only to find him ready to marry some other woman. Even so, when she revealed she was pregnant with twins, Ryder stepped up, arranged a quick ceremony at the courthouse, moved her into his house, and made sure she had everything she could possibly need.

Candice told Kenna that when Ryder had cradled a tiny, warm body in each of his hands, she could see it was important to him to be a good father. She knew she would never have his heart, but she felt it was important the twins be raised by their real father. She said their relationship was always strained at best, and that when she met a man who said he loved her, and who treated her like she’d always wished to be treated, the attraction was simply irresistible.

When Kenna tearfully shared all of this with me, I urged her to go to Ryder and hear his side of the story. I was with her when she confronted him, and I saw the pain in his eyes at the mention of the other woman. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t go into any detail about her. He told us about Candice leaving town after they’d fought. He hadn’t known she was pregnant. After several weeks passed, he’d stopped expecting her to come back and went on with his life. When she returned with the news of twins, he felt he had no choice but to marry her and be a father to them. He said he’d never regretted, even for a moment, having Kenna and Matt, and he gave Candice credit for being a good mother; but he too admitted the marriage had been dispassionate and unfulfilling. He told us he’d known for some time that she had found someone else; that he wanted her to be happy and would have done all he could to make her so, but that it hurt being played for a fool. He said he would have preferred she trust him enough to just be open about it.

Ryder’s new apartment was in a rundown part of town he called the slums. With the constant drama in his new neighborhood, we were not allowed to visit him there. I personally lost touch with everyone and everything for several months during that time, but Kenna told me he even started carrying a gun in his boot. That wasn’t like him at all.

Before any of us realized he’d started drinking hard liquor and dabbling in hard drugs, he was already hooked. We rarely saw him, and when we did it was painful. The only one who was able to get through to him was his good friend, Woody Barnett.

Woody was a good-natured, bearded, teddy bear of a guy. He and Ryder fought together in the Gulf War and afterward remained best friends. Woody and his sweet wife, Angel, opened up their home to Ryder on more than one occasion. They helped him detach from the rowdy crowd that always sucked him in, and provided a safe place for him to recuperate. But this time he just couldn’t kick his destructive habits. It took several months, but they finally succeeded in convincing him to try rehab.

Ryder wasn’t himself at all the day they drove him over to say goodbye to us and to explain that he was going away for a while so he could get well. He reeked of alcohol and of ignored bath times. His skin was sallow, his face drawn. Long hair and a scraggly beard made him look like a caveman. When we parted, he clung to each of us as if hugging us for the very last time. Neither Kenna nor I had ever seen him like that, and it left us scared and bewildered.

Recognizing our anguish, Angel drew us both aside. Try not to worry, she said gently. I prayed for twelve years that Woody would quit his drinking and drugging. Our success story started right there at Bright Horizons Rehab Center where we’re taking Ryder. By the time he finished their program, my prayers had been answered. He’d accepted Jesus as his personal Savior and came out a changed man. We proceeded to move into a new house and start a successful business. Later, he joined a Christian bike club. She smiled, her face radiating joy. I am now the happiest woman on the planet.

Angel went on to tell us that it was Brooke, one of Bright Horizons’ best counselors, who had led Woody to the Lord. She and Woody were both convinced that if Ryder could get hooked up with Brooke, she could help him too. And according to the twins, she had.

I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen him since that day. He never returned to Fleming. He bought some prime property just outside of Irving and began building his dream home. Kenna and Matt reported regularly on the progress of his project. It sounded fabulous, but I got to see it only in my imagination.

I had Kenna’s hair all smoothed back into a long, loose tail and was just opening my mouth to ask if I could braid it, when the front door slammed so hard it shook the house and made a yelp come out of my mouth. We looked at each other and started cracking up.

That’ll be Matt, Kenna said.

As always, my heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Matt. I loved Matt. The three of us had a long history together.

But more than one set of footsteps rumbled up the stairs. With one quick knock, the bedroom door swung open and Matt’s tall, lanky frame stepped in confidently. He was such a cool character, with dark, longish hair that curled slightly on the back of his neck, and attractive chiseled features. His relaxed attitude oozed from every pore—just like Ryder.

He was looking really good. His new clothes were stylish and age appropriate. I approached him hoping for a hug, but he reached out and gently punched my shoulder.

What’s up, tomboy?

That worn out nickname pretty much characterized our relationship. Early on, we’d defaulted to acting rough and tough with each other rather than admitting the obvious chemistry.

Hey, Matt. I pushed against his chest, then ducked away from his defensive swing and caught him with a left jab to his abdomen, pushing him playfully but firmly back as he dipped and dodged with his arms crossed like a shield.

Laughing, he righted himself to avoid falling back against his companion, who was lingering in the doorway, and easily got ahold of my arm, holding me at bay nonchalantly while looking over at Kenna. Look who I found walking in the rain, sis.

A slightly shorter and very attractive young man stepped warily into the room, grinning, his hands still poised as if to catch a toppling Matt.

Kenna sprang to her feet. Jesse! What are you doing in town? She tottered over to him gingerly on her heels, with cotton still between her toes and her arms spread wide. I felt a little bad for leaving her hair looking so whacky, but I had to stifle a laugh. She tried to hug Jesse while holding her wet nails out in mid-air, succeeding only in falling against him. They pulled back hastily with snorts and titters, obviously both embarrassed by the encounter, while Matt and I looked on, silently cracking up.

Red faced, Jesse hastily explained. My grandparents are visiting a friend in this neighborhood, so I thought I’d grab the chance to come along and try to find where you guys live. I won’t be in town very long.

I liked Jesse right away. He had nice guy written all over him. Short brown hair and gentle blue eyes reflected the quiet maturity of a virtuous soul. Plus, I couldn’t help noticing he looked really good in his soggy jeans. A plain brown t-shirt clung to his solid frame, showing off prominent biceps. I could see why Kenna was so captivated. Suddenly I realized she was pointing at me and saying my name.

This is Hayley Harris, the friend we were telling you about, she said. Hayley, Jesse Dixon.

I smiled spontaneously and reached out my hand. It’s nice to meet you, Jesse.

Taking my hand with a firm grip, he returned the smile. You too, Hayley. These two talk about you a lot.

Oh really? A lot, huh? I gave Matt another punch on the shoulder. It better all be good.

Matt grinned and headed down the stairs, rubbing his arm demonstratively. I’ll be in the kitchen, he called over his shoulder. I need a snack.

Jesse and I waited while Kenna pulled the cotton from between her toes, then the three of us walked down together. We found Matt perched on a stool by the large kitchen island, with a banana and a jar of peanut butter. I slid onto the stool next to him.

How did you come to live with your grandparents, Jesse? I asked, holding my breath, already poised with my next question.

He answered simply. My mom died when I was born.

Oh, I’m sorry, we all chorused.

I had planned to ask him what it was like to be raised by his grandparents, but in light of his answer I chose to change the subject. So, are you a senior this year too?

Yeah, but I quizzed out of most of the classes early. I actually have fifteen hours of college credit already. I want to be a veterinarian as soon as possible. Animals are my passion.

You must be really smart.

He shrugged humbly. I have a pretty decent IQ, I guess, but also I’ve been homeschooled my whole life by the world’s best teacher.

Matt stopped mid-chew. Homeschooled? You mean you’ve never gone to public school?

Why? Kenna asked, wide eyed.

Before I was born, Gram was a school teacher. She says when God sent me along, she realized it was time to retire from the public school system and devote all her abilities to raising and training me in my mom’s absence. Gram says homeschooling is a Godsend; it allows for a flexible schedule. Living on the farm involves lots of chores, so flexibility is important. Gram is convinced I’ve received an education far beyond what a public school would have provided.

Huh … Kenna mused.

Yeah, you’re a real home body all right, Matt said. He looked over at me and elaborated. Brooke had a hard time even getting him to come to her house and hang out with us.

Jesse was looking as if he might protest, when his cell phone rang. Excuse me, he said, politely turning away and heading to the next room. Hey, Gram, he said brightly.

I turned to Matt to make light conversation while at the same time returning to my favorite subject. So, Kenna says your dad is at an all-time high level of cool right now.

Yeah, he is. He’s more like he was when we were kids. Remember?

Oh, I remember all right. I hoped I didn’t sound too wistful.

In a few moments, Jesse stepped back into the room. That was Gram. They want me to meet them at Bee’s Diner. Would you mind giving me a ride over there, Matt?

Sure. No problem.

Minutes later, Kenna closed the door gently behind them and turned to me, looking demure. So … that’s Jesse.

Grinning hugely, I reached out playfully to tickle her ribs. He’s pretty special, girlfriend!

I knooow, she giggled, cowering, her eyes flashing. A persistent little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Wouldn’t you love to meet his grandma?

Yeah, she sounds like something, doesn’t she? Fully aware that I sounded like a broken record, I added, I miss Grama Moore sooo much.

Kenna patted me sympathetically and moved both hands to her hips. What you need is something new, she declared. Let’s go to the mall and spend some of our hard-earned money.

Kenna loved shopping. I didn’t really enjoy it, but sometimes with her help I could get on a roll and find some things. And she was right. Something new always made me feel better.

I smiled as sweetly as I could muster. Okay, but we’ll have to walk, remember. Matt’s got the car. I thought that might dissuade her, but she was resolute.

Let’s go, she said brightly. But three blocks later she was grumbling, I think my makeup is melting! Seriously, is May supposed to be this hot and muggy?

In like a lion, out like a lamb, I quipped absently.

That’s March, doofus. She popped me on the arm playfully. What’s up with you? I leave for three days, and you move to some other planet.

I’m fine. It’s just that Elise started moving back home again over the weekend, and I’ve been thinking a lot about my life—or the lack thereof.

Hmm …

She came home excited about her roommates, but humiliated at being the only one delinquent on the rent for the last two months. When Jack told her she wouldn’t be able to return to school in the fall due to a lack of money, she actually yelled at him and broke down crying.

I’d be upset too. That stinks.

I know. I got used to her being gone, though, ya know? Without her around to upstage me all the time, I almost felt like a legitimate person. I mean … how can I ever even have a boyfriend? I feel invisible around her.

Oh honey, any boy worth having will have eyes only for you. Don’t live in Barbie’s shadow. Just keep being yourself. You’re sweet, easy to talk to, and not all stuck on yourself.

Thanks.

Besides, we’re almost freeee! The sky’s the limit. You can finally move out.

No I can’t. I’m stuck. There’s not enough money to do anything.

Well, even if you have to stay where you are, you can still do what you want.

In Jack’s house? Are you kidding me? I scoffed.

She gave me a sideways glance. You need to find a way to lighten up. She strutted a few steps and twirled around, one hand on her hip and the other flipping her hair coquettishly. Take a lesson from me on how to enjoy your freedom of expression.

I laughed and allowed her to lighten the mood. The next two hours flew by while we helped each other try on cool clothes.

Holding a lacy cream-colored top up against me and clamping it in at my waist, she said, You’d look great in this! You have no idea how gorgeous you are, Hay. She bumped me with the side of her hip and lowered her voice. You have a rockin’ bod. I’m actually a little jel.

I bumped her back, only harder, pushing her off balance. You? Jealous of me? Yeah, right.

Kenna could easily have been a model. She wasn’t as tall as Matt, but she appeared tall, with her long, graceful limbs and sleek dark hair. She had a great sense of style and wore everything well. Crumbling before me and playfully shaking the top, she begged, Please? It would accent your curves.

My curves don’t need accented, I laughed, swiping at it, … and you know lace isn’t really my style.

It should be. It’s perfect for you.

One thing Kenna never understood was how very plain I’d always felt next to both her and Elise. They were each gorgeous in their own way. That word was far removed from my personal opinion of myself.

Of course I’d always compared myself to my older sister. Elise and I looked nothing alike. She turned heads everywhere she went, with her natural auburn hair, unusual amber eyes, and lean, perfectly proportioned body. My short-waisted and curvier figure, with my wide shoulders and long limbs, felt frumpish by comparison. My brown hair had some natural curl and a healthy sheen, and everyone told me it was pretty; but to me it seemed ordinary. I considered my blue eyes my best feature.

Elise’s skin was fair and delicate without a single blemish—only a sprinkling of freckles across her perfect nose. I’d struggled with outbreaks of acne since I was twelve, and my nose was more prominent. I’d been self-conscious my whole life. Early on, I got in the habit of dressing down to defer attention, and I never bothered with pore-clogging makeup until I landed the job at the music store.

There was no hiding in the music store. A lot of guys came in there, and both my co-workers were male. Derek, the manager, was tall and athletic. Nathan, the other clerk, was average in every way, but really nice. Knowing nothing about my past, they took me at face value, and both seemed to like me. I had to admit I didn’t hate their attention. During my senior year, I’d begun to gain some self-confidence. A new passion for life simmered in me now. Only on occasion did dormant, unwanted memories rise from the ashes and threaten to ruin all my progress.

I looked at the price tag on a really cool pair of brown boots, sucked in a big gulp of air, and almost choked. Yikes! I’m sure glad I have a job.

You rock, girl. Treat yourself, Kenna asserted.

I figured she was right. Elise will not intimidate me, I decided.

I bought the boots.

And the lace top.

Once I’d slipped those new boots on with my skinny jeans the next morning, there was no taking them off. But the lace top I put away for a special occasion.

I pulled the hair at my temples to the back of my head and secured it with the gold butterfly clip Ryder had given me one Christmas—my very favorite clip. I let the rest of the hair fall freely down my back in loose curls. Checking it out from all angles with a hand mirror, I concluded, not bad.

By the time I got to the kitchen, Mom was already gone to her Monday morning Move and Praise meeting. Elise was sitting at the island drinking coffee.

You look nice, she said brightly. Your hair looks good that way. Are you going to need a ride?

Resentment stirred in me. I could never accept compliments from Elise. Plus, I wanted my own car so badly! I hated being dependent on people. I’ve got along without you for a year and a half! What makes you think you’re indispensable to me now? I gave her a feigned smile. No thanks. I ride with Kenna and Matt.

Okay. Well, I’ll drive Jake to school. Where do I drop him off?

It’s the last door on the east side of the building. His teacher will be standing there. I poured myself a cup of coffee in a to-go cup and grabbed an apple just as Matt honked at the curb. On my way out the door, I said, Thanks for driving Jake. And by the way, the boots are new. I could feel Elise’s eyes on me all the way down the sidewalk. Shaking off spiteful feelings, I smiled ahead at Matt and Kenna.

During the divorce settlement, the twins were awarded a car by the court for purposes of getting to school and driving to see Ryder every other weekend. It was a mushroom-colored four-door in pretty good shape for an eleven-year-old car. They had to share it, but they didn’t seem to mind. I was grateful they had it and that they didn’t mind my tagging along. Most mornings they were also Jake’s ride to kindergarten.

I’d been looking forward all year long to this particular day. After months of mysterious, concealed, sometimes noisy construction, the day for the unveiling of Mr. Spencer’s new science wing had finally arrived. The twins headed to their first-hour art class, and I turned toward the new wing, hoping to get an early glimpse.

Surprised to find the barrier down, I walked hesitantly into the near room and caught my breath at the sight of beautiful polished-wood counters gleaming back at me. Each was outfitted with a laptop computer and a brand new microscope. I wistfully skimmed my hand along a laptop, knowing the pleasure of using it would be extremely short lived.

Wow! This must have cost a fortune, I breathed.

You approve? Mr. Spencer’s smooth, masculine voice behind me made me gasp and turn with a start. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.

It’s okay, I said breathlessly, my heart pounding.

He was smiling proudly, hands thrust in his pockets, shoulders drawn up, dark hair slightly tousled, his eyes as brown as the wood around him.

I pulled in a deep breath, spread my arms wide to indicate the room, and exhaled, This is unbelievable! Is this all thanks to you?

I can take some of the credit, he answered modestly. I knew you would really appreciate it. I’m actually not surprised you’re the first one in here to check it out. It’s too bad you won’t be around to enjoy it.

I knooow!

Well, feel free to look around. There’ll be an official tour for seniors at nine. He smiled, showing dimples that had become locally famous, and turned abruptly with a slight wave of his hand. I’ll see you in a few minutes in the regular classroom.

Later when all the seniors met up in the beautiful new lab, he let us try out the microscopes and familiarized us with the various supplies and resources. We all commiserated over how nice it would have been to have such nice facilities our whole senior year.

When I met up with the twins for lunch, Matt said first thing, Man! That new wing is really nice.

I know. And ready just in time for us to graduate, I pouted.

Kenna was studying me. How was your morning with Mr. Spencer? she grinned.

Any morning with Mr. Spencer is a good morning.

We bumped fists. That’s what I’m talkin’ about!

Down girls, Matt frowned.

From the first day of our senior year, when Mr. Spencer had stood at the front of the auditorium and introduced himself as a recent college graduate, eager to become our new science and biology teacher, every girl in school had been completely enamored. The senior boys hadn’t taken it very well.

When the final bell of the day rang, I hurried to my locker and was waiting when the twins came down the hall. Matt walked out ahead of us to the car and cranked up the radio just short of distorting the speakers. We air jammed and sang all the way to my house.

I loved my quirky friends!

CHAPTER 2

A tantalizing aroma greeted me at the curb when the twins dropped me off at home. As soon as I entered the foyer I could hear Mom in the kitchen. When Mom was in the kitchen, everything seemed right with the world.

Something smells amazing, I called, tossing my book bag on the landing at the bottom of the stairs and heading in to see what was cooking.

There’s my girl! Mom handed me a fresh brownie, gave my shoulders a squeeze, and planted a kiss on the side of my head. Sorry I missed you this morning, sweetie. How was your day?

It was good, I mumbled around a mouthful of gooey, chocolatey goodness. They opened the new science wing today.

Oh, is it nice?

It’s awesome!

Is it? Sit down and tell me about it.

I knew Mom really cared, and I felt kind-of bad for not wanting to hang around and share it with her, but I really couldn’t wait to be alone with my own thoughts. When my little brother, Jake, burst into the room flying a plastic airplane—his arm extended high, swooping and dipping, with a whooshing sound coming out of his mouth—it seemed the perfect opportunity to excuse myself. I gave Mom a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and escaped with, I’ll tell you all about it later, okay?

I was feeling restless. I changed into grubby jeans, a loose t-shirt, and hiking shoes, grabbed a bottle of water, and called out that I was going for a walk as I headed out the back door. Just as it banged shut behind me, I heard Elise and Jack talking on their way in from the garage. Good! Just in time.

I sprinted across the open yard and disappeared into the welcoming woodland behind our house. The air was a bit humid, but cotton-candy clouds contrasted beautifully with a brilliant blue sky. A zealous afternoon sun blazed through moist budding branches overhead, creating long golden streaks across the well-worn path. As I jogged along, the musty odor of the damp forest floor, mixed with a pungent infusion of juniper and pine, rose up to greet me.

I was in my element.

Varieties of birds were thick in the trees, their blissful post-rain symphony delightful and uplifting. I slowed to a walk, attentive to the sound, when suddenly an insistent squawking and fluttering of wings directly overhead made me catch my breath and look up. Two hungry hatchlings with mouths gaping and wailing waited anxiously in an open crevice of a willow tree. The parents—a pair of mountain bluebirds—were flapping in for a landing, with worms dangling from their beaks. At once, memories of a distant day came flooding back.

I wonder how many of their generations have come and gone since their feathered ancestors first rescued me and introduced me to the cove.

I was twelve at the time, and Jake was just a baby. I had become the middle child, and true to theory, was feeling insignificant. I was still in deep emotional pain and mad at God for taking both my grandparents. I was mad at Mom for virtually abandoning me in favor of Jake and for being so chummy with Jack. I partially blamed Elise for Jack treating me the way he did, and I hated her for being so perfect and well loved, while I felt like a frump and a nuisance. I was even mad at Matt and Kenna for having the perfect dad, while mine apparently despised me.

Late on a Saturday morning, while I was in my room sorting my rock collection, I heard Jakey crying. I waited for several minutes before I hesitantly slipped down the hall into Mom and Jack’s room, where I found him in his bassinette, red faced and wailing. I cooed to him gently and caught one of his tiny, flailing hands. Sniffling pitifully, he drew my finger to his soft, wet little mouth and suckled it hungrily, making me melt and giggle with pleasure.

Just then Jack strode in. Get your filthy finger out my son’s mouth, you stupid, no-account, good-fer-nothin’ li’l—! He shoved me away. If the bed hadn’t been right behind me, I would have gone to the floor. What’s wrong with you? he snarled.

He’s hungry! Where’s Mom?

Jack shoved me flat on my back and, hovering over me, held me down with one hand and raised the other in a fist, threatening to hit me. Don’t talk back to me! he hissed. Jake is not your concern. And you know you’re not allowed in this room! You stay away from him, you hear me? I don’t ever want to catch you alone with him again!

Okay! My response was muffled, with my chin scrunched to my chest and my arms blocking my face. I was wishing the bed would swallow me up. I wanted to kick him away, but I knew if I did he would kill me or make me wish I were dead.

Poor little Jakey had resumed his wailing. When Jack finally snapped out of his rage and let me go, I jumped up and ran as fast as my feet would carry me, down the stairs, out the back door, and into the woods. Branches grabbed at my clothing and flocks of birds scattered as I blindly stumbled through the unfamiliar forest. I ran, sobbing and gasping, until I finally broke into a clearing, where I was greeted for the very first time by the secluded, lazy meandering of the Cottonwood River. Weak from exhaustion, I collapsed to my knees in the sand by a small outlet. The silvery blue water swirled and sparkled delightfully under the midday sun, and I lifted a handful of the fresh cold liquid to my face.

I sat there for a long time, heartbroken that I could never be alone with Jake. I thought he was the cutest little baby I’d ever seen, but I would certainly stay away from him if I was so toxic to his existence. I sure didn’t want to risk hurting him somehow—or have another close encounter with Jack.

I was staring upstream at the rushing waters around the historic Hope County watermill, thinking about taking a swim in deep water and not particularly caring if I ever came back out, when I became aware of the insistent few and chur of a pair of bluebirds overhead. They flew in close to me then swooped up, wings fluttering. Again and again they would dive down, twittering and chirping, demanding my attention. It was as though they were beckoning me. Finally, I stood and peered up at them, shielding the sun from my eyes. They seemed excited by my attention and continued their antics until I started to walk in the direction they were indicating.

The distraction of those bluebirds may have literally saved my life that day. I forgot about jumping in the water and followed them up river, right past the old watermill, around a bend, and beside a narrow, rocky offshoot that Ryder later termed a bottleneck, where the water branched off and danced merrily in little pools and tiny waterfalls, away from the main body of water, until it was lost in the dense underbrush of the looming forest. The feathered couple led me through a corridor of thick foliage, then around a curve bordered by flowering bushes. Finally, we emerged into a large open meadow, sheltered on all sides by towering trees. There, sequestered in the peaceful forest, sparkling like a diamond on a brocade pillow, the serene waters of a beautiful private cove glistened welcomingly in the filtered mid-day sunlight.

The bluebird couple landed near a cavity in the trunk of a large tree, and I settled down into the softness of the lush grass at the base of a neighboring cottonwood. Pulling in a deep gulp of sweet, moist air, I rested my head against the trunk and gazed up at my new little friends. I could barely see pieces of dried grass and twigs sticking out from the entrance to their high nest.

As if on cue, a slight breeze caressed the glossy lime-green leaves of the cottonwood and set them rustling and glistening in the sunlight. My twelve-year-old heart was enchanted, and I giggled out loud. The comforting melody of those captivating leaves soothed my senses and delighted my soul, immediately becoming one of my favorite sounds in the whole world.

Now, on this beautiful spring afternoon, with graduation just days away, the new science lab and Mr. Spencer’s smile fixed in my sub-conscious, I emerged from the woods and greeted the familiar river and the mill like old friends.

The mill was abandoned many years ago in favor of more advanced techniques and now sat tranquil and silent. The wheel was quaint and fascinating. Dried strands of moss hung from its spokes, and elaborate nests balanced precariously between them where birds had dared to make their homes. The bottom of the wheel rested underwater, completely covered by a dense layer of dark green moss.

The millhouse was an inviting log and stone cabin, with a platform on two sides like a porch. Picturesque and charming, it nestled into the hillside, shrouded under a canopy of leafy, arching branches. The roof was a little saggy, and some of the wood was starting to rot, but it all felt safe and friendly.

I flopped down on the rough wood of the porch and drew a long drink from my water bottle, noticing above me all the newly budding branches reaching out over the water. The mild roar of the tumbling river and the mesmerizing, repetitive whoosh-whoosh of the water lapping at the platform supports soon lulled me into a state of peaceful tranquility, as it always did.

At length, drawn by the memories of that long ago day and my enduring fascination for the cove, I pulled myself from my resting place and set out on that same familiar route. It was easy to find my way, even though the foliage had grown much denser over the years. I took my seat in the fresh spring grasses at the base of the same old beloved tree, where slick, shiny leaves were newly bursting from swollen, eager buds, and continued my reflections of that first day.

I sat under that comforting cottonwood tree for hours, with no desire to return to Jack’s house. I told the bluebird couple how lovely their home was and thanked them for inviting me over. I pretended I was sharing tea with an imaginary friend, our pinkies and noses lifted grandly.

A family of ducks was gliding noiselessly on the far side of the cove, close to where the fresh water from the bottleneck burbled in lazily through the dense undergrowth. I innocently befriended each duckling, gave each a name, and spoke directly