“I don’t trust myself to do what’s right for you, Léa.”
Zach paused. “I’m sober today. But who knows if I can really do this? It’s too soon to tell.” He sighed. “You want to adopt a child, Get involved with me, and you can kiss that goodbye. You’ve got to remember what you want in the long haul. Okay?”
Not even sure what she was agreeing to, Léa nodded, She had the idea she was losing something precious. That she was closing the door on something big and important.
She looked at him and realized she had never seen eyes like his. It went beyond color, to their expression. Compassion. Understanding. Acceptance. All the things she had ever wished for herself.
She understood what he was really telling her. Stay away, for both their sakes. That made all kinds of logical sense.
Only, logic didn’t rule her lonely heart.
SHARON MIGNEREY
lives in Colorado with her husband, a couple of dogs and a cat. From the time she figured out that spelling words could be turned into stories, she knew being a writer was what she wanted. Her first novel garnered several awards, first as an unpublished manuscript when she won RWA’s Golden Heart Award in 1995 and later as a published work in 1997 when she won the National Reader’s Choice Award and the Heart of Romance Reader’s Choice Award. With each new book out, she’s as thrilled as she was with that first one.
When she’s not writing, she loves enjoying the Colorado sunshine, whether along the South Platte River near her home or at the family cabin in the Four Corners region. Even more, she loves spending time with her daughters and granddaughter.
She loves hearing from readers, and you can write to her in care of Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
SHARON MIGNEREY
SMALL TOWN SECRETS
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.
—Hebrews 11:1–2
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPILOGUE
END NOTES
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Zach MacKenzie turned off the shower and heard the doorbell ringing. Wondering who could be at the door this time of night, he grabbed one of the pink towels off the rack just as the bell, an elaborate eighteen-note affair, chimed again. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he padded across the bedroom to the front of the house. At the window, he peeked beneath the sheer curtains half expecting to see a cop parked in front of the house. Cops had no reason to be looking for him, but he had no doubt they would come around just as soon as they found out an ex-con was living with the richest woman in town. Never mind that she was his aunt and the only person who had stuck by him over the last three and a half years.
Because of the porch roof between the open window and the front door, he couldn’t see who had rung the doorbell. He studied the dark street in front of his aunt’s house, noted a car in the driveway across the way that hadn’t been there earlier, and decided all else looked about as it should for midnight in a town as small as Rangeview, Colorado.
The town was the opposite in every way from Denver, where he had lived his entire life before going to prison. Instead of jammed freeways, a single stoplight three blocks from the house regulated the town’s meager traffic. The town was a whole twenty blocks long and seven wide, the only paved street the highway that came through town.
The breath of air that fluttered the curtain was as soft as a sigh. Outside, it was blissfully, peacefully quiet, and he decided the ringing of the bell had been nothing more than kids playing a prank.
Yawning, he left the window and pulled back the covers to the bed. Between putting his aunt on a plane in Grand Junction early that morning, making the four-hour trip back here courtesy of a ride from his aunt’s attorney and unpacking his few belongings, it had been a full day. A good day. A free day. For that he was thankful.
The bell rang again, making him wish he had obeyed his impulse to disconnect it until Sadie returned from Europe. He couldn’t imagine who might want to see his aunt this late. Whoever was at the door obviously wasn’t going away, so he pulled on a pair of jeans, then trotted down the stairs.
The bell rang one last time, the chimes echoing through the house. He clicked on the porch light. The silhouette on the other side of the frosted oval glass looked like a kid. With green hair.
He flung open the door to a visitor—who had green hair, all right, a wig with flyaway straight strands—clutching a giant pair of shoes.
“Oh, Sadie,” said a distinctly feminine voice, her attention mostly on something behind her. “I just pulled into the driveway and thought I saw Foley go around the back of the house and…” Her voice trailed off when her gaze lit on his bare feet. She stared a long moment before raising her head and showing him a clown face with a huge, painted-on grin that was completely at odds with the apprehension in her voice and in her eyes.
She swallowed, and her hold on the shoes tightened. “Oh…I forgot. Sadie left for Europe and you’re…”
“Zach,” he supplied when she finally met his eyes. “Her nephew.”
Movement across the street snagged his attention—a guy in a white dress shirt and blue jeans appeared between two of the houses across the street, walking with the careful deliberation of someone pretending they were sober. It was a deception Zach understood all too well.
The clown turned around to see what he was looking at. When
