The Making of Marnie Jones: Love in Cedar Valley, #2

By Gabbi Powell

Librarian Marnie Jones has reinvented herself. After horrors that changed her forever, she's built a new life and has found what she believes to be safety and quiet happiness. She hopes she's outrun her past, but all that changes when a stranger comes to the small town of Mission City, British Columbia.

Jake McGrath has expended considerable resources to find Marnie Jones. His niece, Olivia, is spiraling out of control, and Jake thinks Marnie—who understands what his traumatized relative's going through—is the one person who might help save her. . He needs to convince the skittish woman to return to Toronto with him. She's his only hope.

Marnie reluctantly agrees to speak to Olivia, and each conversation shines a new light on her own life. Can she help Olivia and herself as well? If she can let her walls down enough to let one person in, perhaps she can admit her feelings for Jake and live the life she's always dreamed of. But those walls are thick and well-reinforced. Can Jake be patient enough to wait until Marnie's ready to confront her past and forge a future—hopefully with him?

The Making of Marnie Jones is a slow-burn, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-lovers romance with a touch of angst and a therapy dog named Tiffany. There is mention of previous sexual assault. The book is the second in the Love in Cedar Valley series set in a small town in British Columbia, Canada.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erryn Barratt
• Release date: Mar 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781777793890

Book preview

Chapter One

L aura Derks?

Despite the heat of a summer Mission City day, the sound of the deep male voice made the blood in her veins run cold. This day had been inevitable, but four years didn't feel long enough.

Maybe she could pretend… My name is Marnie Jones.

It used to be Laura Derks. A statement, not a question.

I don't know who you're talking about. She pressed her lips together, struggling to stay on her course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for an appointment. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked to her car as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. Her heart pounded.

Brain whirling, she fought to steady her knees.

Her hands shook as she opened the lock with the remote. It gave, and she yanked open the door, launching herself inside. Only when she secured the lock did she take a breath. The air in the car was oppressive but no way was she going to roll down her window. She turned the ignition. The air-conditioning would take a minute to work, but she didn't care. Slamming the car into gear, she tore out of the parking lot, leaving skid marks.

In the rearview mirror she saw the stranger, leaning against his car.

Watching her.

Marnie checked her rearview mirror as many times as she dared, traveling from the library where she worked to her favorite Starbucks. She doubled back, pulled into a convenience store’s lot and waited, then she circled three different blocks.

Can’t risk going inside.

Her hands still shook, and even with the AC blasting, she sweated that stinky, gross adrenaline sweat that had nothing to do with the godawful heat wave engulfing southwestern British Columbia.

She’d let her guard down. Four long years. Sticking to a compulsive routine, she’d relaxed into her boring life. Stupid. The casually dressed guy leaning against the car hadn’t tripped her radar, except…wasn’t it a little hot to be leaning against a hunk of metal?

But she hadn’t reacted. She strolled past him, focused on whether to binge on a J.T. Ellison thriller, a vintage Nora Roberts romance, or a Grace Burrowes regency. Then Mr. Sunglasses and Khaki Pants muttered the two words guaranteed to wreck her life.

Laura Derks.

The guy maintained his posture against the silver Nissan that had rental written all over its spotless framework.

She managed to see him and raise him a few syllables. My name is Marnie Jones. Take pride in having stated the name so clearly, right? Futile, just like trying to hide from her past.

She drove around aimlessly for two hours, suppressing two near panic attacks.

Finally, she finally headed home.

No, no, no.

The same long, lean bastard lounged on the front steps of her house. Her sanctuary—her home.

Anger, sweet and sincere, cut through her anxiety. She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white, and a low-grade headache built at the base of her skull. How dare he? How in the Sam Damn Hill dare he? She hit the speed-dial button for her RCMP contact. Fine, let her unwelcome guest swelter in the heat while she figured out how to handle the trespasser. Anger propelled her out of the car.

I've called the police, so you have about five minutes before they get here and haul your ass off to jail. She was bluffing on both counts, but he had no way of knowing that.

He removed his sunglasses.

She took her first good look at him. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a killer smile. Pretty good-looking.

For a stalker.

As if he had all the time in the world, he unfolded himself from her porch. Wisely, he didn't make a move toward her, simply held up his hands in a gesture of peace. I just want to talk to you, Laura.

It's Marnie, now. Get that through your thick skull. Heat rose in her cheeks, but she couldn’t help it. The temperature still scorched, and she was about to set fire to the intruder. Her knees still felt shaky, but anger now dominated her swirling emotions.

Okay. I just want to talk to you, Marnie.

His attempt to placate wasn’t going to sway her. You now have two minutes. Make it quick.

He opened his mouth.

A squeal of tires signaled a new arrival.

Marnie started hurrying toward the SUV.

The guy finally spoke. Olivia Bater.

She stopped her flight mid-step and froze. All the relief she felt at the arrival of the police vanished. She closed her eyes.

Anything.

Anything but that.

Marnie?

She opened her eyes. Her savior faced her.

Is this the guy? RCMP Constable Seth Jacobs gestured toward the interloper.

Laying her hand on Seth’s forearm, she finally took a deep breath. Her first non-terror-filled thought had to do with a young woman. He is, but I might’ve been hasty in calling for help.

Do you know him?

She looked over her shoulder at the stranger before turning back to Seth. Even though she owed the police officer complete honesty, curiosity gnawed at her. No.

Then you did the right thing in calling me.

She flexed her hand, trying to keep Seth from pushing forward. As if she could hold back the six-foot tall, solidly muscled man. Even in civilian clothes he intimidated, and her hand was the only thing restraining him.

She glanced back again. The other guy stood confident as ever. If he hadn’t been so arrogant, she might’ve admired his moxie. Still, she was unnerved. He’d come to her home, and his attention was unwelcome.

But he’s here because of Olivia.

I knew I ought to call you, and I'm thankful you made it here quickly. His speed in arriving had been nothing short of miraculous, and her heartbeat was slowly returning to normal.

I was in the neighborhood.

I figured as much. She softened. I’ll talk to him.

Seth met her gaze. Let me talk to him first.

So you can put the fear of God in him?

For the first time, his expression lightened. No, ma’am. Just the fear of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

She managed a small smile, more to herself than to him, as he was already making his way over to the guy, pulling out his badge. She still didn't know the stranger’s name. Seth would, as soon as he scrutinized the guy’s driver’s license.

The first time she met the constable was a week after she moved in. She reported a break-in. Terrified they’d found her, she told Seth who she’d been—Laura Derks—and why she’d changed her name and appearance.

The police quickly caught the two local hoodlums too stupid to wear gloves while thieving.

That event had cemented her connection to Seth.

He dropped by periodically to make sure she was okay.

Such a good and honorable man. A reminder that decent men existed in the world—that not every man was a monster. His blond hair was much lighter than the stranger’s—and shorter—a crewcut she assumed all police were required to have. His face was unreadable.

The stranger was putting his wallet away and met her stare head-on. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue, unlike Seth’s gold-flecked hazel ones. Blue like a turbulent summer storm sky.

Finally, he turned away, nodding at something Seth said.

Her stomach did a little flutter of…relief? Anxiety? Some combination of both?

Apparently satisfied, Seth motioned for the guy to stay put while he walked back to her, his stride confident. I've checked his ID, and it's legit. His name is Jake McGrath. He says he doesn't know you, but he needs your help. Despite his words, the police officer didn’t look pleased, his brow furrowed. I'll stay while he talks to you.

No, Seth, you won't. If you say he checks out, then I believe you. She took a deep breath, bracing to face her fear. Sweat still trickled down her back and gathered under her arms. Hopefully he couldn’t smell it. I can handle this. She’d keep her phone ready, though, to make another call if necessary.

Seth chuckled. Of course you can. He sobered slightly. I’ll run his name when I get back to my car. If you need me—

I have you on speed dial. She again pressed a hand on his arm, still dependent on his strength, and humbled by his willingness to protect her from any threat, perceived or imagined.

His return grip slowed her frantic heartrate and decreased her stress a notch or two.

Call me tonight, regardless of the outcome. Otherwise, I'll worry.

Thanks, Seth.

My pleasure, Marnie. He gave her one long level look before leaving.

She watched his progress as he got into his car. Waiting was a challenge, but she wanted to give him time to call in this Jake McGrath. He’d be looking for outstanding warrants, convictions, and—knowing Seth’s diligence—parking or jaywalking tickets. After what felt like an interminable amount of time, but was only probably three or four minutes, he waved and drove away. She returned his wave, watching his SUV until it hit the end of the street and turned left. Steeling herself, she turned back to the interloper. The guy. Jake McGrath.

Mr. McGrath, my name is Marnie Jones. In another life, I was Laura Derks. Her hands on her hips, she took a stance of power despite her knotted stomach. She didn’t want to, but she needed to discover why he stood on her green grass that’d soon wilt and turn brown in the unrelenting heat. You already know that. I’m tempted to ask Constable Jacobs to escort you away, but I suspect that won’t get rid of you. Why are you rudely invading my privacy?

Chapter Two

Jake wasn't fooled by her nicely worded question. The rapidity of the arrival of her cop friend assured him the woman meant business. He probably had about five minutes before she stalked into her house and slammed the door in his face.

Olivia Bater is in trouble. He wasn't playing fair, but he didn't care—because a young woman's life was at stake.

Marnie shifted and looked down at her feet. She kicked a stray pebble from her beautifully manicured lawn toward the street. Finally, she met his gaze.

Her dark Coach sunglasses hid her eyes, but he felt her staring right at him. Boring into him.

Again, how do you think I can be of assistance?

Her tone contained more than a tinge of sarcasm. Her eyebrow delicately arched, and she looked down her nose at him, although it was more looking up at him, considering he was six feet tall compared to her five-feet-three inches. That height difference gave her an air of delicacy, and he felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness toward her. But he'd expected resistance, so this defiance wasn’t a great surprise. He was poking a wounded animal. She had the right to be defensive, and he needed to prepare for the consequences.

Olivia’s life is descending into chaos, and I can't reach her. He fingered a pink rose, careful to avoid the thorns. He fought an absurd urge to cut it off and hand it to her. A plea of sorts. She needs to meet with you. You can help her.

Marnie snorted. I doubt you know what Olivia needs, and I guarantee I can't help.

Look, can we go somewhere to sit and talk? He didn’t want to have this conversation while standing next to the blacktop of her driveway. The heat made it too hot to be hanging outside, although it was a mark of his desperation that he’d waited there a long time, despite the soaring temperatures.

"You are not coming into my house." Her tone was as frigid as the arctic wind on a winter’s day.

He gestured appeasement. Suddenly, despite the heat, a cold bead of sweat dripped from his brow. Everything was riding on this. I wasn’t expecting to. Maybe a restaurant?

Her hesitation was better than the outright refusal he’d expected. He let the desperation show on his face because he’d come three thousand miles and didn’t plan to go back without speaking to her first. He was a stranger—and he understood her reluctance. Keeping his stance open, he held his arms by his sides, exposed and non-threatening.

Okay, I'll agree to that. Her eyebrow raised. With a couple of provisos.

Anything.

You don't try to emotionally blackmail me. You accept my final decision.

He hid his reaction, trying for impassive. Part of him was glad she wasn't willing to let him walk all over her, but his more desperate part wanted a chance to sway her to his mission. I agree to your terms. Where can we go?

There's a diner on the highway. Is it safe to assume you're not from around here?

Got it in one.

Then follow me. She headed for her car.

We could ride together.

Never going to happen.

She didn't turn, but that sounded like a sardonic chuckle. Relieved, he pulled his keys from his pocket and hurried to get behind the wheel of his rental. Come on, lady, don’t drive away without me, okay? He eased his car in behind hers as she drove toward the highway. Probably could’ve found the place, but better to let her think she had the upper hand.

Marnie Jones was a study in contradictions. Her outward appearance shocked him, and he barely recognized her. The luxurious golden-blonde curls had been replaced by straight, shoulder-length ebony hair pulled into a ponytail. Her unmistakable deep-green eyes were hidden behind sunglasses at the moment.

He’d pored over photographs of her features, searching for answers in her wise-beyond-years eyes. He had no more answers after meeting her than before.

They parked at the diner.

She lept from her car and scurried into the safe shelter of the restaurant.

If only he could convince her she had nothing to fear from him— because he took her rules seriously. He slid from his car and entered the restaurant, removing his sunglasses.

Fifties Diner was like many others of the same ilk. Surprising that she hadn’t chosen a more upscale location. He slid into the booth across from her and gratefully accepted the glass of water and menu offered by the young waitress. The tantalizing aroma of grilling meat and fries assailed him, making his stomach growl and reminding him he hadn’t eaten since before getting on the plane this morning.

They have the best burgers in town.

She was answering his unasked question. I'll have a burger and fries. He handed the menu back to the waitress.

Same for me. Marnie nodded at the server. And a chocolate milkshake. Thanks, Sarabeth.

The smile she gave the other woman was genuine. What would it be like if she bestowed it upon him? Wasn’t likely to happen. Make that two. He grinned at Marnie's raised eyebrow. What can I say, I love milkshakes. After Sarabeth stepped away, his grin faltered and his mood darkened as he got himself back on track. I really need your help.

Why me? There are others.

I know. What were the right words? He couldn’t afford to get it wrong because everything was riding on this. Your situation most closely resembles Olivia’s. Timing, circumstances, everything. Right down to the dysfunctional family.

Indecision flickered across her face, soon replaced by a scowl.

Most families are dysfunctional.

Hers more than most. Those deep-green eyes scrutinized him, peering into his soul. He’d have to divulge all the dirty details. Authorities arrested Olivia's mother last week for possession with intent to distribute. The police have kept this under wraps, but that won't last. Eventually reporters are going to uncover it.

True.

Her quick agreement reminded him of her relationship with the media.

What does Olivia's mother getting arrested have to do with me?

Sarabeth served their chocolate shakes.

Jake flashed the waitress a distracted smile, then returned his attention to Marnie. She said some of the drugs were for Olivia.

And they believed her?

Her tone was disbelief, anger, and pain all rolled into one. "Olivia claimed the drugs were for her, but I think she's lying to protect her mother. At least I hope she's lying. He took a sip of the milkshake and was suddenly sidetracked. This is amazing."

You're not sure, are you? About whose drugs they were? Marnie had yet to take a sip of her shake, her brow still furrowed in concern.

Marnie!

Both adults jolted as a young boy slapped his hand on the table.

Jake judged the boy to be about eight or nine. Possibly developmentally delayed?

Marnie read now.

Ah, so he hadn’t been wrong.

A harried-looking young woman stood behind the boy. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or three. She offered an apologetic smile. Bobby was good in school today, so I promised a treat.

Milkshake!

Marnie smiled and placed her hand over the young boy’s. I’m glad to hear you’re doing well in school. We miss you at the library.

We’ll visit soon, I promise. The young woman pushed a hand through her disheveled dark-blonde hair.

And how are you coping, Winona? The baby okay?

Winona’s smile was strained. She’s home with Mom. I needed a break.

Bobby now tugged on his mother’s hand.

Jake didn’t see the young woman getting much of a break.

Maybe bring little Dina to the library one day soon. Loriana and I would love to hold her.

Winona flushed, holding tight to Bobby who continued to tug. She might cry.

That’s what babies do. Loriana will take her into the back room, and maybe you can read or get on the computer.

I have an assignment due. Brown eyes watered. I didn’t think I’d get it done.

Marnie continued to press her hand against Bobby’s. Well, tomorrow is perfect then. We’ll see you?

Yeah. Winona slowly nodded, as if needing a moment to absorb this offer. I can do that. If you don’t mind watching Dina.

We never mind helping out. That’s our job. Loriana loves babies—you know that. She still tells me stories about when Bobby was a baby.

Bobby stopped shifting. I’m not a baby. Defiant and accompanied by a pouting lower lip.

We know that, sweetheart. Marnie squeezed his hand. Not anymore. But a long time ago you were the same size as Dina. But you’re big now, and you have to be gentle with her.

His scowl lessened. I hold her. He finally met Marnie’s gaze directly. I want a milkshake.

Marnie tapped hers. Chocolate is my favorite.

Another pouty lip. Strawberry.

Winona pressed a hand to her son’s head. Strawberry coming up. She mouthed thank you to Marnie and, finally noticing Jake, gave him a quick once-over. Her eyes widened.

Crap. My name’s Jake. I’m Marnie’s friend. He cut a glance to her and she clearly made the realization.

Y-yes, friend.

Well, nice to meet you, Jake. Winona ran her hand through her hair one more time. See you tomorrow, Marnie.

Marnie relinquished Bobby’s hand as he pulled away, clearly more interested in his prospective milkshake.

Jake watched the retreating figures before turning back to Marnie.

She sipped her shake.

You don’t mind crying infants in the library?

We’re available to help all members of the community, no matter their circumstances. Loriana handles the babies.

Interesting.

And something he’d love to delve into, but he needed to deal with a more pressing matter.

Olivia.

Focus.

Where was I…? He struggled, then latched on to their previous discussion topic. Olivia dropped out of school a few months ago, and she and Lydia disappeared. Suddenly she showed up at the police station, trying to get her mother sprung. When it didn't happen, she walked out. Briefly he closed his eyes. Marnie, that was a week ago. She hasn't been home, and I can’t find her.

A sharp noise rang out through the diner as a pan or something crashed to the floor in the kitchen.

Marnie jumped, her gaze darting around the restaurant. After a moment, when she seemed calmer, she met his stare and took a deep breath. "Did you try his house?"

Why would she—

Because it's all she knows.

Chapter Three

Moments after that little bombshell dropped, Sarabeth returned with their food.

Marnie picked at her fries dispassionately as she half-listened to Jake talking to someone on the phone. Probably the cops. She popped her second-to-last fry in her mouth as he ended the call. Police?

No. Just someone I trust.

You don't trust the police?

He eyed his food as if it was a foreign substance. His sharp gaze came back to her. I trust the police. Just, they can't hold her. They can't keep her safe.

And your friend can? She shook her head, trying not to roll her eyes. You obviously don't get this.

He leaned in, lowering his voice. Then explain it to me, please. Why would she go back to that house of horrors? They’ve boarded it up and are planning to tear it down.

Her hamburger—the best in town, and her biweekly cholesterol treat—lost its appeal, thanks to the man across from her. Or maybe it was the situation. You have to look at it from Olivia's perspective. That building was her— She waved her hands in the air. —home, for lack of a better word, for those four years.

"Did you ever go back?"

No. Sharp. Resonant. Definitive. She winced inwardly at her outburst. But at times it tempted me. Jake, there's no logic to it. He wasn't eating either, so she took a tentative bite. Oh good, it was still warm enough to be palatable.

He took the hint and followed her lead.

The silence wasn't exactly companionable, but neither was it uncomfortable.

Sarabeth removed their plates, and they were declining dessert when Jake's phone rang.

He scanned the screen. I have to take this.

She gestured her assent, and began to drink the remainder of her milkshake. The look on his face stopped her mid-sip. Strain in his voice was palpable, and a chill crawled slowly up her spine.

Eyes closed, he pinched the bridge of his nose. The color fled from his golden-hued skin, leaving him a pasty white.

If ever there was the embodiment of pain—this was it.

Her meal threatened to reappear, and she was on the edge of her seat by the time he finished the call.

He met her gaze straight on. You saved Olivia's life.

She barely refrained from snickering. Since the girl was three thousand miles away, she could hardly have done anything of the sort.

You think I'm kidding? My friend, Wolf, found her with a bag of pills, exactly where you said she’d be. She was unconscious, and then she stopped breathing. Jake’s eyes were wide, his voice strained and hoarse as he kept the volume low. Again, he leaned in. The paramedics had to restart her heart, and she's on the way to the hospital. They said in another five minutes, she would’ve died.

Marnie tossed her crumpled napkin onto the table, searching for Sarabeth to ask for the check. Did he think she was an idiot? You're lying.

Why would I do that? What can I possibly have to gain from lying to you?

The dangerous tone to his voice brought her up short. Gut clenching, she fought the urge to run away. She was out in public, and he wouldn’t hurt her. Despite her fight-or-flight instinct, some small part of her mind understood he wasn’t a threat. Wiping her clammy hands on her thighs, she took a steadying breath. Who is Olivia Bater to you?

My niece.

Of course. How would he have known the family was dysfunctional, unless he knew them intimately, as a relative or a social worker? How…?

Lydia, my older sister, started running with a wild crowd at an early age. He grimaced. "At seventeen, she wound up pregnant with Olivia. When she refused to give her up for adoption, my parents disowned her. They believed she’d come crawling back for help, but she’s stubborn, and she never did. As a child, the whole affair baffled me. I thought I’d never see her again, but then Olivia disappeared.

The year after Olivia went missing, my father died of cancer and my mother had a heart attack. She never really recovered and died of heart failure a few months later. Lydia hadn’t reconciled with either of them. She let me help her sometimes, but there was only so much I could do. I was twenty-five and overseas. He turned to look out the window, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

He projected so much pain, so much frustration. So much helplessness.

Finally, he turned back and focused his penetrating blue eyes on her. I was in no shape to offer emotional support to my sister, try as I might.

You knew about her addiction. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and it didn’t form a pretty picture.

She's used on and off for years. When Olivia went missing, it pushed her over the edge. His voice hitched.

What was this revelation costing him? What happened when Olivia came home?

Lydia stopped. He cringed, averting his gaze again. I mean, I think…I think she stopped. Lydia and Olivia became isolated, and even I couldn't get through.

But you kept trying. Despite herself, she sympathized with the man and the situation he found himself in.

Of course I did. They’re my family. Look, Marnie, it's been a year and a half since they found Olivia. The call from the police last week came from left field. If I didn't have friends on the force, I’d still be in the dark. Come to Toronto with me. Please.

He wasn’t even trying to hide the desperation in his voice. Damn. There's no guarantee she'll talk to me.

I'll make her talk to you.

That won’t work. Undoubtedly she’s seen counselors and they’ve made her talk. Now, we have to respect her wishes. She picked up the previously discarded napkin and smoothed out the creases.

You’ll come with me?

The obvious note of hope in his voice ate at her, and she didn’t enjoy having to shoot him down. No.

He looked surprised, then disappointed—a frown marring his model-perfect good looks. I can’t stand to watch her suffer.

Jake, you have this backwards. I’m the last person Olivia needs to spend time with. You think because we went through the same thing, we’ll be able to relate to each other, but that’s not true. We won’t be good for each other, of that I’m sure. She had to make him understand this disastrous idea would never work.

You won’t be good for her, or she won’t be good for you?

His question hit a little too close to the mark. She fought to keep her expression neutral, but she wasn’t able to do more than swallow her discomfort. I’ve moved on, Jake. I’m not that girl anymore, and I can no longer access her. She’s gone, and as much as I might want to help, I can’t bring her back. And I’m not willing to try, not even for Olivia Bater.

Is it because I’m asking too much? I know it’s a lot—

You’re asking the impossible. She injected finality in her voice, making it clear this conversation was over. I have to go.

"Will you at