Delaney's Sunrise Read online

  DELANEY’S SUNRISE

  RHONDA LEE CARVER

  LYRICAL PRESS

  http://lyricalpress.com/

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/

  To Jay

  Acknowledgements

  To my children. Thank you to Tharp Animal Health Center who graciously answered questions. To all of the farmers in Ohio. To Todd for listening and car chases. To my readers...may you always find a smile.

  Chapter 1

  Dee Crawford switched off the radio as she passed the road sign. Willow Creek, One Mile Ahead.

  Anticipation and apprehension slithered up her spine like chilly fingers. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and between her breasts, so she rolled down the window of her Jeep. The brisk breeze cooled her feverish skin, but did little to diminish her uneasiness.

  Taking a much-needed breath, slow and measured, Dee counted to ten, one of many relaxation techniques she’d absorbed from motivational CDs on the long drive from Chicago to Ohio’s farmland. She’d need every last trick to manage her rolling stomach. She’d stopped at a greasy diner two hundred miles back and packed away more than a thousand calories worth of cheeseburger, fries, and strawberry milkshake. She hadn’t had a good burger in at least five years–not since she moved away. Thinking back, she couldn’t believe she’d once attempted a diet of tofu, bean sprouts, and eggplant.

  More than once friends had called her crazy for her impulsiveness, yet Dee considered herself fairly level-headed. On the other hand, coming back to Willow Creek was probably downright nuts. Since she’d decided to return to the small-town home she’d hastily abandoned, she’d questioned her sanity repeatedly.

  Past experience told her nothing but trouble waited in Willow Creek.

  Dee pushed her thoughts into the back of her mind and kept her attention on the road.

  A few miles later, she passed a familiar run-down barn and on the next curve, Dee turned onto the bumpy country road. For the next five minutes, she dodged cracks and potholes until she finally passed under the large Delaney’s Farm sign.

  One dark, dreary night, she’d pulled out of this very road and bid farewell to country living and everything that went with it. At the time, she’d thought leaving was the only way to rid her life of the guilt and sadness that had filled her.

  And the only way to forget Abe Delaney.

  Dee studied the scenery as she drove along the narrow gravel drive. She slowed the Jeep as she passed layers of thick, lush pine trees as green as if a painter had painted them that very moment. She breathed in the tangy, fresh scent. A tingle of awareness swirled in her chest. She’d yet to find a sweeter smell.

  Dee glanced past the line of foliage to the sweeping view of the large pond. Ducks floated by an old gray fishing boat. A fishing rod stood propped against the hull.

  She drove past red barns. The smells of hay and cow dung wafted on the breeze. A city girl’s worst nightmare–or maybe not. Better than car exhaust fumes. Spotting a regal stallion trotting along the white fence, Dee smiled. One didn’t see that in the city.

  Reaching the north side of the property, she gazed across the blueberry grove and, beyond that, a section of green pasture. “Beautiful,” she said aloud.

  The solitude and peace of the landscape comforted her. She could feel her blood pressure drop and her anxiety float away.

  The large white farmhouse hadn’t changed a bit from what she remembered. It was still lovely enough to be featured on the front cover of Country Home Magazine. Large windows were framed in pristine curtains. The traditional wraparound porch was lined with rockers, welcoming someone to sit with a glass of iced tea as the evening passed.

  Delaney’s Farm was the most pleasant, dreamy place she’d ever seen. Built in the 1800s, it had started out as the town’s first school. In those days, it was a one-room structure. Soon after the Delaney family bought it, they built on rooms and turned it into a comfortable home.

  Dee parked, turned off the Jeep’s engine, but didn’t make a move to get out. She scanned the front of the house, looking for any sign of life. Not that she’d expected a red carpet welcome, but simple acknowledgement of her arrival would have been nice.

  Abe had driven her away five years ago, and his sentiments probably hadn’t changed. She had written to tell him she was arriving, but he hadn’t responded. She hadn’t been surprised. When his brother, Jacob, had died in a tragic car accident two weeks before he’d planned to marry Dee, life had taken a severe turn for the worse.

  Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she finally slid out of the driver’s seat, stretching her tired muscles. The sun beat down on her skin, and she glanced at the bright blue sky. It was an unusually hot day for May in Ohio, and she expected it to get much hotter once she came face to face with Abe.

  Dee removed her bags and dropped the three leather cases to the gravel, studying them with disappointment. It was somewhat debasing to realize everything she owned sat before her.

  But this was her chance for a new beginning. It was time she made a change. Would Abe realize that?

  Dee heard the squeak of the screen door opening. Her heart beat faster. She turned, expecting to find a tall man sporting a frown. Instead, she came eye to eye with a silver-haired woman wearing an apron. Dee dropped her gaze to the woman’s hands, which clasped tightly against her large bosom. From the older woman’s narrowed eyes and glower, Dee wasn’t a welcome sight.

  Planting a winning smile on her face, Dee stepped up on the porch and offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Dee Crawford.”

  “Yes, Ms. Crawford,” the other woman replied with a curt nod. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  Dee pulled back her hand and hooked her thumb in the front pocket of her jeans. “Please call me Dee. I’m glad Abe received my letter. I’m sorry, but he didn’t reply, so that kind of puts me at a disadvantage.”

  With a pensive look and a sideways tilt of her head, the woman said, “I’m Mrs. Graves. I’ve been the housekeeper here at the farm for four years. I do the cleaning and the cooking.”

  The woman’s attitude grated, but Dee took it with a grain of salt. Mrs. Graves could have waited to find a reason to dislike her before jumping to conclusions. Dee didn’t intend to step on any toes.

  “Thanks for greeting me, Mrs. Graves.”

  “Abe asked me to show you in if you showed up.”

  She sucked in a breath and bit her bottom lip as she swallowed her trepidation. Retrieving her bags, Dee made her way back up the steps to the porch. Mrs. Graves stepped to the side and held the door open. As Dee passed, she lost her grip on the luggage. One bag slid down her arm, falling to the wooden floor with a loud thump.

  Mrs. Graves’s mouth thinned as she examined the floor, as if looking for damage. “Do you need any help?”

  Dee looked at the woman. Was she serious? Biting back laughter, Dee shrugged. She turned her attention to the familiar decorations of the foyer. Framed pictures of family still filled one wall, and she glanced over generations of Delaneys with their coal-black hair, dazzling smiles, mocha eyes, and olive complexions.

  Her favorite picture, positioned significantly in the middle, was surrounded by an arrangement of smaller snapshots. Five Delaneys stared back at her as she examined the family portrait taken more than twenty years ago.

  Ted Delaney had a proud tilt to his chin, and his warm eyes reflected his love for his wife and three sons. Mary Delaney stood next to her husband with devotion beaming in her kind, gentle smile. Behind the couple stood three handsome sons who were very similar in looks, yet so different in lifestyle.

  The middle son, Max, was also the tallest, with a square jaw, a short military buzz cut and a face set in
stoic lines From what she remembered, he was a Navy Seal and didn’t make it home often because of his many assignments overseas.

  Abe, the eldest, had thick black hair with soft, silken waves. His deep, mysterious eyes reminded her of a warm pool of melted chocolate. The proud set of his jaw said he was a force to reckon with. She should know. She’d gone head to head with him on more than one occasion. Her blood pressure rose to scorching heights at the mere memory of their arguments. She resisted the urge to fan herself.

  Her gaze settled on Jacob, the youngest, the man she’d met and intended to marry. He’d had boyish features, welcoming, friendly, and in the picture he wore a mischievous smile. Of the three brothers, he looked most like their mother. The Jacob she’d known opened his heart to everyone, but in the end his deeply-concealed secrets had destroyed his happiness.

  Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back. Five years later, and her raw emotions still stung her like needles of devastation.

  The sound of rubber-soled shoes on the polished floor, followed by an intrusive cough, pulled Dee from her thoughts. She turned and offered Mrs. Graves a forced smile. “That photo always grabs my attention.”

  Mrs. Graves shrugged. “Can I get you anything? Lemonade? Tea? Something to eat?”

  Dee shook her head. Tendrils of hair fell against her face, cooling her heated cheeks. She brushed them back. “No, thank you. I’ll just get my things settled into my room.”

  “Abe asked me to show you into the guest room–”

  “The guest room?” Dee blurted between tight lips.

  Mrs. Graves’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Is there a problem?”

  “I planned to stay in my old bedroom.” Dee didn’t want to make waves, but she didn’t consider herself a guest.

  Several expressions flickered over the other woman’s face, until indifference swept through her blue-gray eyes. “Then so be it. I can prepare the bedroom with fresh sheets.”

  Dee waved a hand. “No, no. I can take care of it.”

  With a brusque nod, Mrs. Graves turned on her heel and started out of the room. Dee caught the woman before she disappeared. “Mrs. Graves, is Abe home?”

  Mrs. Graves turned. Her cool glare pierced Dee from across the room. “No. He’s out.”

  Dee let her leave without further interruption. The older woman reminded Dee of her pinch-faced second grade teacher. Mrs. Halesworthy had worn thick-soled shoes that made swishing sounds as she walked through the halls of the school. The teacher had carried her pointing stick like a weapon. If a kid broke a rule, Mrs. Halesworthy could scare the child until they peed their pants. She didn’t doubt Mrs. Graves could frighten kids, and probably most adults.

  Now that she was happily alone, Dee couldn’t resist checking out the first floor. She felt like a child on Christmas morning. She’d always found silent stories in the antique furniture Mother Delaney had collected from all over the country.

  She felt like an intruder as she snuck a glance into the living room. The décor transported her back into the 1800s. Dark wood, polished and refined, trimmed walls papered in solid red. Years of gentle wear had softened the finish on cherry hardwood floors. The paisley brown rug centered before the fireplace was new–or at least to her. The colors complemented the beige upholstery of the couch and chair.

  The built-in shelves were also new, and brimming with books. She could guess Abe had read each one, maybe twice, some three times. He was a complex man. Country living sizzled in his blood during the day, but by night he was a scholar who buried himself in books. He’d even given thought to writing his own novel.

  Dee headed toward the kitchen for a drink, but decided against it when she heard the sound of clinking dishes. Mrs. Graves wouldn’t appreciate her company. Instead, she lugged her bags up the staircase and down the long hall. Luggage-lifting would have made one kick-ass workout, because she was exhausted by the time she reached her bedroom. Maybe her personal trainer had been a waste of money

  It didn’t matter anymore. No more personal trainers, luxury gyms, gourmet coffee shops on every corner or fancy restaurants. Willow Creek was far from the city. Coming back to the quiet town, she’d given up all the lavish perks for a simpler way of life. She hadn’t found a drop of happiness in Chicago.

  Maybe country life would steer her toward contentment.

  The closest thing she’d get to a gym in these parts was milking the cows, weeding the gardens and harvesting the crops. If she wanted gourmet coffee, she’d have to brew it herself. Fancy eating wasn’t a concern, considering she’d worked as a caterer for ten years and could toss together a fine meal when the mood struck. She wasn’t giving up anything in the long run, right?

  She lingered in the hallway with her hand on the bedroom doorknob. Taking a calming breath, she pushed the door open and crossed the threshold.

  It was still her room. Nothing had changed. The pale blue walls, the white trim, the black sleigh-style wooden headboard all remained. She’d picked out the thick white comforter and colorful pillows herself. The matching chest once held framed pictures, but she’d taken them with her. She’d have them returned by nightfall.

  Apprehension knotted her stomach as memories filled her mind. She tried to nudge them away, but they burrowed deeper.

  Outside she heard the crunching of tires on gravel, drawing her to the large bay window. Tossing the smallest bag onto the bed, she pulled back the sheer lace curtain, and peered out at the front yard and the twisting, narrow drive. Abe’s black truck came into view, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

  Dee watched with bated breath as Abe parked in front of the house. Seconds later, he slid out from the driver’s side. The morning sun glinted off his hair, turning it almost a faint purple. Blue flannel drew attention to his broad shoulders, while worn jeans accentuated the length of his toned legs. An odd feeling washed over her. Abe lifted his head, looking directly at her. A moan escaped her lips. Her heart clenched, and butterflies flitted in her stomach. He stared up at her. His steely, dark gaze penetrated her through the window.

  With a twist of her wrist, she let the curtain drop and jumped back. She brought a shaky hand to her chest and ordered her body not to betray her. She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow. Abe was a mere man. He had no control over her. Or did he?

  It’d taken months of mental preparation, as well as exhaustive planning, for her to come back to the farm. When she had left, she’d sworn she’d never return under any circumstances. Not as long as Abe remained.

  She had been engaged to Jacob for less than two days when he’d brought her to Delaney’s Farm. She hadn’t been ready to meet the older, tougher brother Jacob had told her about. Jacob never could have prepared her for Abe. She remembered all too well how he’d besieged her with his curious chocolate-colored eyes. They had burned a hole through her then–as they would now.

  She brushed her clammy palms down her pants and fidgeted with the lace edging her top. She’d have to face Abe again, sooner or later. Time to get it over with.

  Taking a seat at the vanity, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. It seemed as though the hands of time had molded her face with their cool touch. People said she was pretty. She supposed it was true, in a classic, delicate way. Her hair was a shade of light chestnut, natural–unlike her friends, who had to color theirs every three months.

  Her skin was fair, and she never tanned. Her mother had told her a hundred times that wrinkles were never flattering. Her pale, freckled nose and cheeks were the legacy of her equally pale, freckled grandmother.

  She puckered her lips. They were thin. Ever since she could remember, she’d wished for a supple, full pout. However, just like her breasts, her lips had never reached ample proportions.

  Oh well. There was more to life than big breasts and full lips.

  She did have an ample brain, at least.

  With a glance down her clothes, she sighed. The pink, frilly, long-sleeved shirt, gray slacks and tall boots made her l
ook like a professional attending an important conference. She knew Abe. He’d get a laugh out of her outfit. He would think she was foolish wearing high heels on a farm. She would stick out among the horse barns and greenery like a sore thumb.

  She changed into a pair of dark denims, tight t-shirt, and boots. “Calm and collected,” she repeated to herself as she emerged from the bedroom.

  She found Abe in exactly the same spot where she’d met him five years ago: sitting on the front porch. He stared at the blueberry bushes as if searching for answers in the tranquil scenery. He was probably asking Mother Nature how he could get her off his land.

  Some things never changed. Had Dee really believed Abe would? Men like him never changed. He made people come to him. No doubt he’d have sat there and waited until she made the first move.

  Stepping through the creaky screen door, she made her way toward him. The summer heat brushed a soft breeze across her face, warming her. Sweat beaded on her upper lip, but she attributed it to frayed nerves more than the temperature. She wiped the moisture, paused and waited. He knew she was there, but made no effort to look at her.

  Wasn’t he the least bit curious? Turn and look at me!

  She followed his gaze out over the blueberry grove. The cloudy sky promised rain, and a group of deer ate grass along the edge of the trees. She swept her eyes over him. His hair was longer, covering his ears and nearly touching the collar of his flannel button-down. A layer of stubble dusted his cheeks, and his jaw was set in a tight, grim line.

  She silently urged him to acknowledge her. She wished he’d make this easier for them both.

  He brought his hand to his mouth, sucking on the cigarette he clamped between his fingers. He inhaled and exhaled as if it were a ritual. Finally, he took one last, long drag and ground the butt out on the wooden post.

  Without anything to keep him occupied, he turned and caught her with a piercing look. It shook her to the core. It was clear by his narrowed, hard eyes and the bitter scowl that he would be doing everything in his power to make her stay here a bad experience.