Homecoming (Sweet Hearts of Sweet Creek Book 1) Read online

  “I don’t waste my time with guys like him,” Mark said.

  Sheryl frowned. He didn’t fight with Dave? That was a first. “Don’t blame you. He’d probably sue.”

  Tory snorted. She turned to Sheryl, her face suddenly melancholy. “And you, hon, what are you going to do?” Sheryl shrugged, not wanting to voice her own fears. Instead she bent over, yanked off the high heels and slipped her feet into her old, comfortable running shoes.. .“Hit the employment office again.”

  “It’s payday today. I’ll get your cheque and mail it to you.”

  “If Dave lets you.” Sheryl picked up the offending shoes and, with a crooked grin, wound up and threw them as far as she could. A moment of silence, then they clattered against a metal Dumpster. Sheryl turned back to Tory, ignoring Mark’s surprised look.

  Tory laid a hand on Sheryl’s arm. Sheryl instinctively pulled back, and Tory gave her a sad smile. “I would love to see a sparkle in those pretty green eyes someday.”

  “I’ll be okay.” Sheryl felt a rush of thankfulness for her friend, feeling sorry at her reaction to Tory’s touch, and then forced herself to lean over to give her friend a hug. “Thanks for being around. There aren’t many like you.” Tory clasped her hands between hers and from the expression on her face, Sheryl could see that she had caught her off guard.

  “You’re full of surprises, Sheryl Kyle.” She smiled and squeezed her hands. “If you need a place...”

  “I paid my rent for two months, so I’m okay for a while.” Sheryl bit her lip, trying to quell the unexpected tears that threatened. Tory was rough, hard edged but generous to a fault. “You better get back.”

  Tory stretched up and pulled a card out of her pocket. “My man Mike was talking to one of his customers in the garage, a lawyer. He was complaining that his secretary’s quitting in two weeks.” Tory handed the card to Sheryl with a shrug. “You said you worked in an office before, so I thought it would be worth a try.”

  Sheryl took the grease-stained business card. She didn’t know if she could wait a couple of weeks, but tucked the card in her purse anyway.

  “Well. I better get back. I can’t afford to lose this job, either, at least not until we got our down payment for Mike’s business together.” Tory hesitated, then caught Sheryl in a hug. “I have a good feeling about this hunk,” she murmured in Sheryl’s ear. “Be nice to him.”

  Tory pulled away, grinned at Mark, then slipped back inside.

  Avoiding his eyes, Sheryl put on her coat and drew her purse over her shoulder.

  “I’ve been pushing my luck already,” she said to Mark, glancing behind her. “I’d better get going.”

  She turned and walked away.

  Mark caught up easily, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jean jacket.

  “I hate to state the obvious, but what are you going to do now?” he asked.

  “That isn’t your concern,” she replied curtly.

  Ignoring him, Sheryl paused at the end of the alley, habit making her glance both ways down the sidewalk bordering the busy street that fronted the bar. A steady stream of semis, full and empty, lumbered past them interspersed with cars and light trucks.

  The sun still hovered over what she could see of the horizon, and Sheryl steeled herself for the long walk home. She couldn’t afford to waste her tip money on a bus ride tonight.

  Mark still stood beside her, the slight evening breeze lifting his hair from the neck of his coat. She shot him a sideways glance, wishing he would leave.

  “Sheryl,” his deep voice was quiet. “What about Ed?”

  All she wanted was her apartment, a hot bath and a nap. She didn’t want to think about Ed, or her past.

  He’s dying.

  The thought caught her up short. If Mark spoke the truth, then she needed to face Ed before that happened. She had too many questions that needed answers.

  There’s nothing for you here, her thoughts mocked her. She clutched her purse tighter, trying to think, to plan. But she was too tired. With a sigh that came from her aching heels, she slowly nodded her head.

  “How long will I be gone?”

  Mark lifted one broad shoulder. “That’s up to you. Nate has a small cabin back of his place you can stay in if you want privacy.”

  Sheryl squinted at the traffic, not replying. Overhead a plane, engines screaming, dropped down, heading toward the airport across the road. Threaded through that sound was the screech of trains from the rail yard behind them. From the nether reaches of her mind came the picture of azure hills giving way to rugged mountains, the tantalizing image of deep woods, silent and waiting.

  It hurt. She knew it would. That’s why she kept those memories buried deep. At the mention of the cabin they had slowly spiraled to the surface.

  It was to that cabin she used to retreat when she needed space and privacy. It was her private domain, and no one bothered her there. Ed had fixed it up for her, and Nate had helped. That was in the beginning, when things were still easy between them.

  “I can pick you up first thing in the morning,” Mark said, his voice a quiet sound that registered through the commotion of the city. “I’ve brought my truck.”

  Sheryl looked him over again. Tall, broad-shouldered, arrestingly attractive.

  Unknown.

  Would she be crazy to spend a day cooped up in a vehicle with him?

  With a fatalistic shrug she nodded. What would be, would be. In her youth she believed in a God that watched over her, but experience had taught her differently. God had been conspicuously absent in her life in the past years. Dependence created instability. She had to make decisions for herself and live with the consequences.

  “I’ll be ready. Do you know where I live?”

  He nodded. “Is six o’clock okay?”

  “Sure.” Sheryl kept her eyes averted, her long hair slipping loose from her ponytail, hiding her face. Then she turned away.

  “Sheryl, wait. I’ll give you a ride,” Mark called after her.

  She didn’t feel like spending any more time with him. Her stomach knotted up at the thought of seeing her stepfather, and she still shook after that business with Dave. But she faced an hour of walking before she was home, and if she was going to be spending the whole day with him tomorrow, a ten-minute drive could hardly be more dangerous. She stopped, shoved her hands in her pockets and followed him back to his truck.

  He stood by a dusty, silver Ford, and when she came near he went ahead of her to the passenger door and opened it. Shooting him an oblique glance she shrugged and threw her purse in.

  Mark sauntered around the front of the truck his fingers trailing on the hood.

  One quick step onto the running board and a jump got her into the front seat before Mark opened his door. She tugged on her skirt trying to at least get it back over her thighs. As soon as she was home this particular piece of clothing was heading for the garbage bin.

  She watched Mark as he got in the truck. As if aware of her scrutiny he returned her gaze. His gray eyes met hers, and a gentle smile hovered on his well-shaped mouth. He was entirely too handsome and too much of a puzzle.

  She looked ahead as he turned the truck on and reversed, wondering again what she was getting tangled in. It had taken her three months after the accident to find another job, and it was only in the past few weeks that she felt as if her life was getting under her own control.

  I shouldn’t go, she thought, a shiver of apprehension skittering down her neck. It was as if life had caught her and dragged her back into its current. She felt propelled along a course, clinging to whatever happened to come by.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she settled back. When she got back to the apartment, she’d run a bath, go over her assignment.. .and that was as far as her plans were going for now.

  Mark pulled up in front of her apartment building, and for a moment she saw it through a stranger’s eyes. Built in 1950’s it squatted back from the street, square and ugly. Patches of stucco had fallen off, exp
osing the wires beneath. For two years Sheryl and Jason had called a basement suite in this dull, squat building home.

  She should have moved right out after Jason died, but it was the cheapest apartment block she could find close enough to her work and school. The money she saved would pay for two more courses next year.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said, turning to Mark.

  “Hey, I’m really sorry about your job.” He pushed his hat back on his head, sighing lightly. “And your husband."

  Sheryl bit back a retort. “Don’t lie awake about either. I won’t.” She glanced at him, surprised to see real remorse on his face. “Dave was just waiting for an excuse to fire me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she answered shortly. Mark didn’t need to know any more than the bare details of her life. He was just a blip.

  She stepped out of the truck and walked up to her apartment. As she unlocked the front door, she glanced over her shoulder.

  He waited, watching her, and when she stepped into the dank lobby, she heard the truck start up, and he left.

  She leaned against the locked door, drawing a deep breath. Enough girl, she reprimanded herself. Tomorrow, think about it then.

  Mark hit the remote button, and the picture on the TV screen shrank and faded away. He dropped the remote and clasped his hands behind his head as he leaned back against the headboard, trying to meld his first impression of

  Sheryl with the stories he’d heard. The short skirt, the satin shirt and high heels all fit with what Nate and Ed said the few times they talked of her.

  Mark picked up the photograph that lay beside him on the bed. Sheryl looked about fifteen, her hair swirling around her face, her mouth twisted in a wry smile. It resembled her enough for identification, but didn’t adequately portray the delicate line of her features, the elusive color of her long hair. Sheryl was taller than he had imagined, slender, with an easy grace in her movements—a direct contrast to the hardened edge of her manner.

  He remembered again the sight of her clutching her head, and another wave of anger coursed through him. She said Dave wouldn’t have hit her, and in retrospect he knew she was right. Dave looked like he worked on intimidation and threats. So what had caused her quick response?

  He dropped the picture on the bed.

  With a frustrated sigh, he pulled the phone toward him and dialed.

  “I found her,” Mark said when Nate answered.

  “So how was my sister?” Nate’s voice held anger that Mark knew had as much to do with his worry over his father as his long history with Sheryl.

  “Broke, out of a job, scared.”

  “Sheryl, scared? I can’t imagine that. How’s the husband?”

  Mark sighed as he leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s dead.”

  “What?” Nate’s voice exploded in his ear. “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t really exchange much in the way of polite chitchat. I’m surprised you didn’t know. Didn’t Jason have family in Sweet Creek?”

  “He only had his mother, and she moved to Toronto right after they left.” Nate sounded flustered. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

  “I get the feeling from her that she thought no one cared.”

  Nate fell quiet and Mark, sensing guilt, waited. “How did you manage to talk her into coming?” Nate asked after a lengthy pause.

  “She didn’t have much choice. Thanks to me she lost her job.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I tangled with her boss.”

  A pause at the other end of the line told Mark that Nate was absorbing his second shock of the night. “Whatever happened to turning the other cheek, Mark?”

  “It wasn’t my cheek I thought he was going to hit,” Mark replied, his mouth set in grim lines. “Anyhow,” Mark continued, wanting to forget the debacle, “she agreed to come with me. If we leave on time in the morning I’ll probably head straight to the hospital.” He didn’t speak of his reason for haste, but it hung between them.

  “If all goes well, Dad will be discharged in a couple of days,” Nate said. “The doctor says he can’t live at his own place anymore, so he’ll come and stay with us.”

  “That’s going to make things busy for you and Elise.” Mark frowned. Elise had enough to do with three little kids. He wondered about the wisdom of bringing Ed there, as well.

  “Speaking of busy,” Nate said, ignoring his comment, “I checked the hay today. It’s ready to bale.”

  “Did you manage to get hold of a baling crew?”

  “Yah, Rob and Conrad. I rented an extra baler. So all that’s left is to pray for good weather.”

  “That’s all we can do anyway, Nate.” Mark stifled a yawn. “You got any ideas of what I can talk to Sheryl about? Seven hours is a lot of time to be cooped up in a vehicle with someone you’ve never met before.”

  “Ask her what she’s been doing the past eight years. We sure don’t have a clue.” Nate’s voice was abrupt, and Mark let that matter drop.

  “Okay. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mark hung up, staring at the phone, feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy for Sheryl.

  Her face came back to him: delicate features, soft green eyes framed with lightly arched brows, and hair that went on forever, tempting a man to run his fingers through it. He had seen many beautiful girls, but somehow she held a certain fascination for him, and when she smiled...

  Mark laughed shortly. He was acting like a kid himself instead of an experienced than of thirty-four. He’d had girl-friends enough, just never the right one. The life he had lived didn’t lend itself to finding a girl willing to share his life, his faith in God, the isolation of his ranch and the hard work that came with it Living on the ranch kept him too busy to go looking. And after Tanya, he didn’t have much inclination.

  He got up, restlessness sending him to the window. Lately the old feeling seemed to come upon him more often.

  Nate and Elise already had three children, and Elise, his baby sister, was five years younger man him. As for himself...no one.

  He shrugged, attributing his restlessness to spending most of the day driving around busy streets trying to find the bar Sheryl worked. The city always gave him that claus-trophobic feeling, and each time he went there for business or visits he couldn’t wait until he was back in the open hills riding his horse into the wind.

  Mark dropped his shoulder against the cool window of his air-conditioned room, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, frowning at the cars below wishing he was back on the ranch.

  He thought again of Sheryl, trying to imagine her on a horse. Nate said she used to ride every chance she got. He couldn’t visualize it, not after seeing her this evening, serving drinks in a smoky, noisy bar wearing that narrow short skirt.

  He pushed himself away from the window with a sigh and dropped on the bed, tugging his cowboy boots off. He pulled his Bible out of his suitcase, and lay back, paging through the Psalms, looking for inspiration, comfort... wisdom.

  With a wry grin he flipped to Proverbs. Between Nate, Sheryl and Ed, he would need the wisdom of Solomon to understand them and all the undercurrents that swirled around their lives.

  For now he was only the messenger. Once he brought Sheryl to Sweet Creek, his job would be over and he could get back to the business of keeping his beloved ranch afloat.

  Chapter 2

  Even though warm sunshine slanted into the cab of the truck, Mark shivered as he turned onto Sheryl’s street. He wasn’t looking forward to spending the long drive with this self-contained girl. Besides, the work he’d left behind at the ranch lay heavy on his mind. Knowing the hay was ready to bale made him fidgety.

  He glanced down the street toward Sheryl’s apartment, wondering if she had changed her mind. But as he drew closer to her building, he saw her waiting, a small suitcase on the sidewalk beside her, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

  He pulled to a stop in front of her, and she t
ossed her suitcase in the truck’s box and opened the door, flipping her backpack into the cab before he could get out to help.

  “Good morning, Sheryl,” he said instead, settling back into the seat.

  She only nodded at him, climbing easily into the truck. This morning she wore blue jeans and a loose-fitting track coat over a soft pink T-shirt. Mark was disappointed to see that her hair hung in a neat braid down her back.

  “Do you want breakfast?” he asked, hoping her lack of greeting wasn’t an indication of what the next twelve hours would be like.

  “I ate already. Thanks.”

  “Okay.” Great conversation starter, Mark, he thought as he spun the truck in a tight U-turn. No wonder he was always such a hit with the ladies.

  He sped down the street and turned onto the Yellowhead, glad to put this district of Edmonton behind him, restless to see the city skyline in his rearview mirror.

  The hum of the tires and the occasional muted swish of a vehicle passing them were the only sounds in the cab of the truck—a cab that seemed to grow smaller with each passing block.

  It was going to be a long drive.

  Finally they hit the last traffic lights on the freeway until the Pass. Mark stepped down on the accelerator and Sheryl turned, looking over her shoulder at the city they left behind.

  “Second thoughts?” Mark asked.

  She turned to him, her face expressionless. “That’s a waste of time,” she replied her voice terse.

  The tone of her voice didn’t exactly encourage conversation, but Mark persisted. “How long did you live in Edmonton?”

  “Five years.”

  “Where were you before that?”

  “Prince George.”

  Well things were going great guns, he thought ruefully. At this rate the trip would crawl by.

  Mark took his cue from the resolute set of her jaw and turned on the radio. “Do you have any preferences?”

  “I don’t listen to the radio much.”