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What would you do if your perfect life
was shattered by a series of uncontrollable events?
Allison Ransome loses everything;
everything except her love for Cole Slater, the young man she planned to marry
after graduation.
Gutted by Allison’s perceived treachery, Cole moves on with his life. Ten years
later, he returns home, telling himself he will avoid the woman who broke his
heart.
But nothing goes as planned. Can
Allison and Cole forget the past and come to terms with the events that tore
them apart?
Author’s Note: To paraphrase a reader: “This
book has some tough, emotional parts, but it’s honest.” At its core it’s a
heartfelt romance.
Loving From Afar is Book One in
The Women of Independence series. Book Two, titled The Last Goodbye, is also
available at Amazon.
Prologue
Allison
stood back as her friend finished mounting the fan and plugged it in.
Air swept gently over the seedlings, and she smiled at the satisfied
look on Dani’s face.
“Much
better,” her friend said, with a satisfied nod. “That’ll help
to vent the place.” She poked at the double layer of poly that
covered the domed greenhouse. “It’s a great setup.”
“Thanks
to you.” Allison gave her a wry smile. “You know, it’s been
years, and I still can’t believe you’re a successful contractor.
What did you say you have lined up for your next project?”
“Mr.
And Mrs. Berkshire’s sunroom. They’ve asked me to tear off the
old one and build them a snazzy new one.” She adjusted the angle of
the fan. “I’m looking forward to it. Did you say the airflow from
the fan is actually good for the seedlings?”
Allison
was accustomed to her friend’s abrupt changes of subject. “Yes.”
She wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “The
air strengthens them while moderating the temperature.” She tugged
on a pulley at the end of the greenhouse and opened a 2’x2’ flap
on the end wall. The vents had been Danielle’s idea when she put
the structure together. She’d installed one vent at each end to
catch the gentle breezes that swept through the valley.
“The
Berkshires. They’re Timothy’s parents, aren’t they?”
“That’s
right. Really nice people.”
“Did
you ask them about Timothy?” Allison forced herself to look her
friend in the eye. “About where he is now?”
“I
didn’t have to ask. They were eager to tell me all about him. He’s
in Vancouver and doing well. He works for a company down there that
provides services to the television and film industries. Apparently,
he scouts locations and stuff like that.”
“Huh.”
Allison picked up a handful of potting soil and closed her fist
around it. In the heat of the greenhouse, the Pro Mix dried out
quickly. She’d have to dampen it down again before she did any more
transplanting. She raised her head. “Back in high school, was I the
only one who didn’t know that Timothy was gay?”
Dani
lifted her shoulders. “I can’t honestly say that I knew, either.
He didn’t come out or anything.” She raised an eyebrow. “Cole
never said anything?”
Allison
shook her head. “Nope.” There was a catch in her throat. “I
thought we shared everything.”
“Guys
are different about stuff like that. Anyway, it was what...ten,
eleven years ago? People weren’t so open.” She turned thoughtful.
“Timothy was lucky that Cole befriended him. He needed all the
protection he could get. I think the other kids sensed he was
different, even if he never confirmed it.”
A
sad smile twisted Allison’s lips. “Cole was like that. Always
sticking up for the underdog.”
Danielle
paused, and took a deep breath. “He’s back, you know.”
Allison’s
head came up sharply. “Timothy?”
“No.
Cole.”
For
a moment, she couldn’t catch her breath. She staggered back,
gripping the edge of the seeding bed for support. “And just how
long were you going to wait to tell me?”
Danielle
grinned. “I’m telling you now.” Her smile faltered. “I hear
his father’s been ill.”
“Why
haven’t I heard that?” Allison frowned.
“Because
you hide yourself out here? Because you have no social life? Just the
other day, Faith was saying she hasn’t seen you in over a month.”
“What
about you? When was the last time you were out on a date?”
“Oh,
no you don’t.” Dani’s eyes flashed. “This isn’t about me.
And don’t tell me that going out with Mark counts as a date. He’s
a nice guy and everything, but you two are just propping each other
up.”
“No
fair! I–”
Dani
shook her finger. “You shouldn’t tell me these things if you
don’t want them to come back at you.” She looked at her watch. “I
have to go.” She walked out the wide greenhouse door and looked at
the long, straight rows of black plastic, ready to receive the
seedlings. She turned slowly to look at her friend. “He looks hot,
Al. I scarcely recognized him.”
Allison
closed her eyes and let her head fall back. The sweep of air from the
fan cooled her momentarily, but it would take more than a fan to cool
down what she still felt for Cole Slater.
Dani’s
tone was gentle when she spoke again. They’d known each other too
long; had helped each other survive too many emotional train wrecks.
“I thought I’d better warn you,” she said softly, then climbed
into her pickup truck and headed up the long driveway to the road
that ran along the high side of the valley.
*
* *
Cole
found himself on the twisting road that led through Hidden Valley.
The road surface was lumpy and badly patched, much as it had been
when he was a teenager. The difference was that his bike was bigger
now, and it took the twists and turns with ease.
He
knew that Allison had bought a place out here, but he wasn’t ready
to see her yet...if ever. She was growing flowers, of all things.
Flowers for drying. Evidently she made them into bouquets and sold
them all over the Okanagan. He told himself he wasn’t looking for
her place, but even so, he noticed the sign by her driveway as he
roared past. It wasn’t large, as signs went, but it didn’t need
to be, considering that she didn’t encourage visits from the
public. It read The
Flower Farm.
He caught a glimpse of rows of black plastic as he passed, and smiled
to himself. It was difficult to picture Allison farming...even if it
was flowers. As far as he could remember... and he remembered
everything... she’d never shown any interest in gardening. But that
was all so long ago...
Lost
in memories, he found himself at Green Lake in no time at all. He and
Allison had come out here a lot when they were young. The numerous
beaches along Okanagan Lake were a magnet for tourists as well as the
locals, and as a result, they generally had Green Lake to themselves.
He
parked the bike and squeezed through the turnstile gate, heading for
what he still thought of as “their” spot. Ponderosa pines offered
shade, and the sweet scent of resin filled his nostrils. Dried pine
needles crackled underfoot and memories engulfed him. He sat down at
the edge of the steep hill leading down to the lake, and took it all
in. Very little had changed since the last time he was here. The
place was silent, except for some intermittent birdsong. He braced
his arms on raised knees and lowered his head. Now wasn’t the time
to dwell on those days. His father was dying, and he needed to keep
himself strong for the ordeal that lay ahead.
So
why had he come here, where memories of his time with Allison were
the strongest? Why was he torturing himself, wondering what might
have been?
The
answer was obvious, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He’d
never gotten over her. Never gotten over the shock of what had
happened. Cole had driven home, told his dad that he was leaving, and
taken off like a bat out of hell. Taken off to make a new life for
himself; a life where he controlled the outcome, a life where he
wouldn’t have his heart ripped to shreds by a woman.
The
distinctive chatter of a Kingfisher brought his head up. He searched
the trees along the edge of the lake but couldn’t spot it. It
didn’t matter; just knowing the bird was there was comforting. It
meant that there were still fish in the lake. Some things, at least,
had stayed the same.
He’d
loved growing up here in Independence. The other guys his age had
talked constantly about getting out, about going to a larger town,
but he’d been content. His mother had died when he was young; he
scarcely remembered her. His dad had lived by the Golden Rule and
expected him to do the same. It had seemed corny at the time; corny
and old fashioned, but as Cole grew older, he’d come to appreciate
his father’s values.
They’d
lived in a small mobile home park that was tucked into one of the
narrow valleys that ran roughly parallel to the lake. There’d been
those few months right after his mother died, when his father hadn’t
known what to do, but other than that, Marty Slater had done a great
job of raising him.
His
father had smoked all his life, and it was catching up with him now.
Since he’d left home, he’d managed to see his father a couple of
times a year. His father, along with his lady friend Marnie, usually
visited him on Vancouver Island, where Cole ran a successful
business. He’d seen them just a few months ago, and his father had
appeared in good health, but when Marnie called him two days ago,
he’d come running, and was shocked at his dad’s appearance. These
days, Marty Slater spent most of his time in a big recliner facing
the television; Cole could tell by the items on the two tables that
flanked the chair. Books, remote controls, cell phone, tissues, and
pain pills painted a picture of someone very ill; someone who was too
weak to move around. Cole wondered idly if the doctor would give him
an estimate of how much longer. Probably not.
“Jesus,”
he said aloud, and dropped his head again. It was almost too much to
take in. He’d always been aware that his father flirted with lung
cancer every time he lit up, but he was still in his fifties; it was
too soon for him to die. He wondered if Allison knew.
He
pushed himself to his feet. Damn her for creeping into his thoughts
at a time like this! But then whose fault was that? He’d been an
idiot to think that by coming here, where they’d shared so much, he
could face up to the past and get her out of his system. This was
where they’d dreamed of a future together and every thought led him
back to that time.
A
loon warbled on the lake, but he didn’t look. He had to get going,
get away from this memory-laden place. Besides, the community nurse
was coming to check on his father right after lunch, and he wanted to
be there when she arrived. The nurse might be more forthcoming about
his dad’s prognosis than the doctor.
Reflection
from the black plastic caught his eye as he rounded a corner. He knew
the road well, and this was where he’d seen Allison’s sign.
He
slowed his bike, knowing he shouldn’t, but something compelled him.
He tore off his helmet, braced his feet on the loose gravel at the
top of her driveway, and looked down at her place.
Movement
in the greenhouse drew his eye, and a woman emerged. At first he
wasn’t sure. The woman was about the right age, but there was
something different about her; about the way she carried herself. The
bright aura that had always surrounded Allison was missing from this
woman. And yet... there was something achingly familiar about her.
The
woman raised a hand, as though to wave at him... or was that wishful
thinking? She fussed with her hair, then shaded her eyes and looked
directly at him. And then he knew. This was Allison. The bond they’d
developed a decade ago still pulsed between them. He could see it in
her eyes, even from this far away, and it scared the hell out of him.
They stared at each other for a long, intense minute. Then he
replaced his helmet, started the bike and drove off.
*
* *
Allison
invariably looked up when she heard a motorcycle. Some people, like
her friend Faith, looked to the sky when they heard an airplane; with
Allison it was motorcycles. She pretended she didn’t know why she
looked, but she wasn’t kidding anyone, especially herself. Cole had
bought a motorcycle as soon as he was old enough to get a permit, and
ever since, the sound made her heart leap into her throat; made her
pulse speed up a little. Her reaction had mellowed over the years,
but it was still there, springing to life every time she heard that
distinctive sound. She’d always believed that he would come back
one day, even though things could never be the same. Too much time
had passed for that, but she still hoped.
The
motorcycle had stopped at the top of her driveway. The driver braced
himself, removed his helmet and looked down at her, but made no sign
of recognition. He didn’t need to; she knew it was Cole. She raised
a hand to wave, then caught herself just in time and raked her
fingers though her hair. If she waved and he rejected her now, her
heart would break.
She
shaded her eyes and stared at him, willing him to come down the
driveway and say hello. The longing to see him again, to hear his
voice, to feel his touch, was almost more than she could bear. She
knew he’d been to Green Lake. It had been their spot to go and
talk; the fact that he’d gone there must count for something.
Or
not. He drove away and she dropped her hand, defeated. It was clear
from the way he’d looked at her that he still found her repulsive.
Tears burned behind her eyes. How could she have allowed herself to
think that he might still feel something for her? She tossed her
gloves onto the potting table in the greenhouse, grabbed a clean rag
from the box by the door and headed for the creek that ran through
her property.
Jones
Creek meandered down the bottom of the valley, through town, and
eventually emptied into Okanagan Lake. Home to trout, muskrat, a few
mink, and duck families in spring, there was always something to see
along the creek’s edge. She headed for one of the old chairs set up
under the willows and used the rag to wipe away bird droppings and
leaves. Over the years, it had become her favourite spot on the
property, and at this moment, she needed the calming influence of the
burbling water and the soft sway of the willow leaves more than ever.
Seeing Cole had stirred up too many old emotions, both good and bad.
Memories that seemed like they’d happened only yesterday...
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