traded her for someone else, so she lived with the lie created to protect them all.
“You never did approve of Tate, but he’s different now.”
“Different? Honey, Tate McIntyre was always different.”
“I mean different in a different way.” Julee laughed a little at that, comparing the almost military perfection of the Tate she’d seen today with the long black hair, the wary eyes, and bad attitude of the Tate she’d known ten years ago. “I don’t believe for one minute he’d intentionally hurt Megan. The bad-boy reject has become the golden savior and this town thinks he walks on water. From all appearances, he’s gentle and kind to everyone. Everyone but me, that is.”
“I don’t see why he should be angry with you,” Beverly sniffed defensively. “It’s not your fault he lost the football scholarship. And it sure wasn’t your fault he married that Atkins girl while you were still carrying his baby. I’ll never forgive him for that.”
“Mama, don’t go there. Please. I’ve had such a stressful day.” Gripping the phone a little tighter, she twisted the cord around her finger. “How’s Megan? Is she there?”
“No, she’s at school. Since you told her about having a bone-marrow drive where her daddy’s relatives lived, and explained how some of them could possibly match, she’s been full of zip.”
Julianna said a silent prayer of thanks. As long as Megan remained in remission, they had time to search for a donor. Her chest filled with a familiar mix of joy and pain. Being a mother was the hardest and most wonderful thing she’d ever done.
“Has she gained any weight?”
“In two days? Honey.” Her mother’s voice brimmed with sympathy. “Megan is like you. She’ll never fatten up too much.”
Julee had a vision of Megan’s wide, omnipresent smile in a narrow face with Tate’s high cheekbones and leaf-green eyes. Her arms hung like twigs from her T-shirt sleeves and she’d been bald so often, she’d taken to wearing a ball cap even when her hair had grown out. Julianna’s heart expanded with fierce mother love. Megan was an amazing kid, so full of life and love it seemed impossible that she could be dying.
“I have a meeting with the hospital administrator and the radio-station manager in a while, Mom, so I’d better get moving.” She sat up on the end of the bed. “Give Megan my love.”
“Try not to worry so much, Julee.”
“I won’t if you won’t.” It was an oft-repeated phrase.
“Everything is just dandy from this end. Eugene is coming over for dinner and afterward Megan and I have a hot game of Super Nintendo to finish.”
Julianna knew her mother and their affable accountant, Eugene Richmond, would be much more than friends if not for her and Megan. She had halfheartedly encouraged the pair to take their relationship further, but in truth, she couldn’t work the insane modeling schedules without her mom to help care for Megan. And with Megan’s hospital bills, every penny counted. When she’d discovered Julee’s pregnancy ten years ago, Beverly had moved to L.A. and become housekeeper and nanny while Julianna had provided the finances. So, adding to Julianna’s burden of responsibility, dear Eugene offered only friendship to the woman he wanted to love.
Replacing the receiver, she lay back on the full-size bed. Out of long habit she began the tedious exercises that kept her legs in high demand in commercials, magazine ads and movies. Sometimes, when she wasn’t worrying about Megan, she wondered what would happen when her legs gave out. How would she support her sick child? The agency loved her now because of the huge commission she brought in, but she had no illusions about this silly, shallow business of making a living with her body. She was a piece of meat. When the meat turned bad, she’d be nothing.
For the millionth time she wished she’d gotten an education, wished she’d chosen a career that made a difference in life, wished she’d been a nurse or a teacher or something that mattered. Viciously, she bicycled the air. She was nothing, nothing, nothing, but a pair of legs.
Chapter Three
“Crown me.”
Tate groaned and gave up one of his checkers, clunking the piece down with feigned annoyance. “You’re cheating again, old-timer,” he said with affection to the man sitting across from him.
Every Tuesday at noon, rain or shine, Tate attended a Chamber of Commerce meeting in the conference room of Blackwood Community Center, then moseyed over to the Senior Room for a game of checkers or dominoes. Today former sheriff Bert Atkins, his friend and mentor, was beating the pants off him.
“Ha! Don’t need to cheat when you play this bad.” The older man chortled happily and popped another peppermint in his mouth—his crutch to avoid smoking. “You must be working on a case the way your mind is off somewhere. Anything I can help you with?”
Bert Atkins had served Seminole County as sheriff until his second heart attack had forced him to retire, but his mind was as sharp as ever. With uncanny accuracy, he always knew when Tate was struggling with a problem.
Tate was, in fact, working on a suspected chop-shop operation, though that wasn’t where his mind had been. He hadn’t quite pinned down the source yet, but if he was right, the kingpin was a well-respected citizen. Bringing him down would be neither easy nor popular. And this was an election year.
After frowning at the board for a moment he moved his black king, jumping two of Bert’s men. “Guess my mind isn’t as scattered as you thought.”
But to be honest, his mind was scattered. Julee Reynolds was driving him crazy. Since he’d found her slumped outside his door two days ago, looking like her dog had died, Tate had thought of little else. Having her name and the bone-marrow drive on the lips of every Blackwood citizen didn’t help much and he was feeling like the county jerk instead of the county sheriff because he didn’t want any part of either.
Bert slapped the table, sending the checkers into a quiver. “Gol’ dern it, boy. I’m gonna have to study on this next move.” He shoved a plastic bag in Tate’s direction. “Here. Have a peppermint while I think.”
Obliging, Tate removed the crinkling cellophane and welcomed the candy’s cool sweetness. While Bert studied, his snow-white head bent over the board, Tate looked around at the group gathered in the Senior Room. A half dozen men played various games at other tables. He’d worked hard to gain the respect of this town, and in return the citizens of Blackwood had been good to him. He was happy, content. Or at least he had been until Julianna Reynolds blazed into town and reminded him of the hole inside his chest.
At the far end of the long room a group of ladies chatted and crocheted around a sofa grouping. One of them looked up, caught his eye and waved. He knew by the way she elbowed her companion that the unattached sheriff of Seminole County had just become the topic of conversation.
With an inward groan, he waited. Who would it be this time? The new librarian? Or maybe Mary’s recently divorced granddaughter? The ladies of Blackwood found his lack of a love life intensely interesting and seemed determined to remedy the problem by throwing unattached females in his path.
Sure enough, before Bert had a chance to claim any more of Tate’s checkers, Mildred Perkins laid aside a long rectangle of pink fluff and headed in his direction. The
