Daniel's Gift (51 page)

Kara had just entered the kitchen when she heard the front door open then slam shut, characteristic of her eleven-year-old daughter. But it wasn't Angel who called out to her.

"Kara?" A man's voice rang through the house.

"I'm in the kitch—"

Andrew Hunter threw open the kitchen door before she finished speaking. A tall man in his mid-thirties, Andrew was attractive in a clean-cut way with short brown hair, matching brown eyes, a smoothly shaved face, and neatly pressed clothes.

Andrew was a nine-to-five kind of man, one who would never take an extra minute for lunch, never call long distance on a company phone, and never kiss a woman unless he asked first. Kara found that trait comforting, as safe and warm as the house and the town she had come to cherish.

But Andrew also seemed to be a man who thought too much and said too little. Kara suspected that one day the words would burst out of him and his emotions would spill forth like the river after a nasty rain. She just hadn't anticipated being the target.

"I can't believe it," Andrew said. "I can't believe you asked my brother to come to the centennial. Are you out of your mind?"

Andrew ran a hand through his hair in frustration. His eyes reflected anger and uncertainty. He looked like a man who had just found out a murderer was being released in his hometown.

Kara took a step back from him and placed her hands on the cool brown-and-white tiles of her kitchen counter. She had expected Andrew to be upset, but she hadn't expected to see such a look of betrayal in his eyes.

"Andrew, calm down," she said. "This isn't personal. It's business. I think Ryan can help us."

Andrew looked at her in amazement. "My God, Kara, you don't know what you've done." Andrew sat down at the oak table in the breakfast room. He rested his head on his hands, no longer angry but defeated.

The other members of the centennial committee had warned Kara that Ryan Hunter could be a problem, but the advantages of inviting him to participate had seemed to outweigh the disadvantages. At least until now.

She knew Andrew and Ryan had been mixed up with some woman years ago. Rumors of the old love triangle still made their way around town in between the daily gossip about Loretta and her fatherless baby, Aunt Josephine's true hair color, and who had spiked the punch at the high school dance.

But Ryan had left town twelve years ago. There had been a lot of water under Tucker's Bridge since then.

After a moment Kara joined Andrew at the table. "Think about it," she said, putting a hand over his. "Ryan is a celebrity. He's just the draw we need to sell tickets for the centennial dinner."

Andrew lifted his head and looked her straight in the eye. "Ryan is a troublemaker. You should have told me, Kara. I thought we were friends -- more than friends."

Andrew's gaze challenged her to reply, to admit the feelings they had yet to discuss. But that was the problem. They didn't talk about their feelings, about what mattered to them. Maybe that's why she was holding back on an intimate relationship. She wanted to be with a man who would tell her everything.

Kara reminded herself that Andrew was a good man. As a single father he knew the challenges she faced in raising a daughter on her own. Plus, Andrew was content to live in a small town, to work on the newspaper with his father. He might not be the most passionate man, but she knew she could count on him.

"We are more than friends," Kara said slowly. "I didn't tell you about Ryan, because I knew what you would say."

"If you knew what I'd say, why did you do it?"

Because her desire to restore Serenity Springs to its former glory had superseded Andrew's feelings. Saving Serenity Springs had become synonymous with saving herself. If she could make the centennial a success, if she could revive the town, then she'd be that much closer to having the home she had always wanted.

Kara lifted her chin, knowing that even though she disliked confrontation, she could no longer avoid this particular showdown. "I'm president of the chamber of commerce, Andrew. It's my job to create interest in Serenity Springs. Harrison Winslow, the developer I told you about, is interested in building an expensive resort in the north woods. If we can show him a nearby town with the charm of the old country and the sophistication of a big city, he'll be completely won over. Think about what that would mean for all of us—our town featured in premier travel magazines, touted as a popular destination for world-weary travelers."

"I'm sure it would mean business for the Gatehouse."

"That's right, it would. And if I don't get more business, I can't stay here, Andrew. Don't you see what's at stake? It's not just me and my home that's in jeopardy. Your newspaper needs news to stay afloat."

"What does any of this have to do with Ryan?"

"Ryan is news, Andrew. Some of the people in town have been threatening to boycott the centennial, afraid that we're trying to turn Serenity Springs into New York City. But I think if Ryan comes to the party, they'll be more interested in seeing him than in causing trouble."

"They won't have to cause trouble; Ryan will."

"There's another reason, too." Kara paused, hating to rub Ryan's success in Andrew's face, but she didn't seem to have any other choice. "Ryan is a terrific photographer. His work is seen all over the world. If he takes photos of the centennial and sends them off to a national magazine, everyone will see how special this part of the country is. The bottom line is that this celebration, and hopefully Ryan's attendance, will mean more business for everyone, for Aunt Josephine's antiques shop, for Ike's barbershop, for Loretta's bar."

"Progress could ruin this town."

"It could also help it. I don't want our kids to grow up and leave. I want them to grow up here and stay, because there are opportunities."

"Opportunities to destroy what makes this town special—its smallness."

Sometimes Andrew could be so damned stubborn. "I don't think this is about progress; it's about your brother. I know there are bad feelings between you and Ryan, but surely after all this time ..."

"You don't know anything about me and my brother."

"Then tell me."

"No."

Kara sat back in her seat, taken aback by his blunt answer. "How can you expect me to understand if you won't talk to me?"

"I guess I can't. It's not just me though. A lot of people in this town don't like Ryan. He was always breaking things, always screwing up, always causing trouble."

"Maybe Ryan has changed."

"I doubt it. Who else knew about this?"

"The centennial committee, Loretta, Aunt Josephine, Hannah Davies, Mayor Hewitt, Will Hodgkins, and myself."

"Loretta's probably still pining after him. Your aunt Josephine would do anything you say, and Mayor Hewitt's new in town." Andrew shook his head. "Old Hannah loves Ryan's photos, practically has a shrine set up at the library, so she wouldn't say no. But I don't understand why Will didn't put a stop to this. He's my friend."

"Will only had one vote."

Silence fell between them. "Ryan won't come," Andrew said finally. "He didn't come back when my son was born. Not even when my wife sent him a note. I told Becky Lee not to bother. But she just—just couldn't forget him."

"You can't forget him either, can you?"

"I was doing just fine until you sent that invitation. Some things are better left dead and buried."

"But Ryan isn't dead."

"He is to me."

The phone rang. Kara stood up, suddenly tense. "That's probably Angel." Andrew didn't move. The phone rang again. She picked up the receiver. "The Gatehouse. May I help you?"

"Is Kara Delaney there?"

The man asking the question had a deep, melodious voice that went down as smoothly as a cup of French roast coffee. Kara swallowed hard. She knew who it was. Deep down in her gut, she knew. "This is Kara Delaney."

"Ryan Hunter."

"Mr. Hunter. Hello." Kara turned away from Andrew.

"I just got your letter. I accept your invitation."

"You do? I mean, that's great." Kara twisted the phone cord between her fingers. Never had she imagined that he would actually attend. Now she didn't know if she should be relieved or worried.

The kitchen door slammed so hard a picture fell off the wall. She turned her head. Andrew had left. Problem number one. They were off and running. She turned her attention back to the phone.

"So you'll come?" she repeated.

"Don't make me say it twice. When do you want me?"

Kara cleared her throat. "The banquet is Thursday night, February twentieth. If you can get here the day before, we can go over the schedule."

"Fine."

"Do you need accommodations? Or will you be staying with—friends?" Silence greeted her question. "Mr. Hunter?"

"I'll need a room."

"You can stay here. At the Gatehouse."

"Crazy Josephine's place?"

"Mrs. Parker—actually it's Mrs. Kelly now—is my aunt."

"Your aunt? Kara Cox?" Ryan let out a long, curious whistle. "I haven't thought of you in years."

Kara stiffened. "Why should you? You couldn't possibly remember me. I was only seven years old when I last lived here. And you were at least..."

"Nine. But I do remember you. We have something in common, don't we, Kara?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you telling me you don't know?"

"Know what, Mr. Hunter?"

Ryan didn't answer for a long moment. "It's not important. Mrs. Delaney—is my father still alive?"

"What a strange question. Of course he's alive."

"Then hell must have frozen over."

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SUMMER SECRETS

Prologue

Ship's log, Moon Dancer, July 10

Wind: 40 knots, gusting to 65 knots

Sea Conditions: rough, choppy, wild

Weather Forecast: rain, thunder, lightning

Kate McKenna's fingers tightened around the pen in her hand as the Moon Dancer surfed up one wave and down the next. The ship's log told nothing of their real journey, revealed none of the hardships, the secrets, the heartbreak, the danger they now faced. She wanted to write it down, but she couldn't. Her father's instructions were explicit: Nothing but the facts.

She couldn't write that she was worried, but she was. The weather was turning, the barometer dropping. A big storm was coming. If they changed course, they would lose valuable time, and her father would not consider that option. They were currently in second place -- second place and heading straight into the fury of the sea. She could hear the winds beginning to howl. She feared there would be hell to pay this night. Everyone's nerves were on edge. Arguments could be heard in every corner of the boat. She wanted to make it all go away. She wanted to take her sisters and go home, but home was at the other end of the ocean.

"Kate, get up here!" someone yelled.

She ran up on deck, shocked to the core by the intensity of the storm. The spray blew so hard it almost took the skin off her face. She had to move, had to help her father reef down the sails to the storm jib. But all she could do was stare at the oncoming wave. It must be forty feet high and growing. Any second it would crash over their boat. How on earth would they survive?

And, if they didn't, would anyone ever know the true story of their race around the world?

Chapter One

Eight years later ...

"The wind blew and the waves crashed as the mighty dragon sank into the sea to hide in the dark depths of the ocean until the next sailor came too close to the baby dragons. The end."

Kate McKenna smiled at the enraptured looks on the faces before her. Ranging in age from three to ten, the children sat on thick, plump cushions on the floor in a corner of her store, Fantasia. They came three times a week to hear her read stories or tell tales. At first they were chatty and restless, but once the story took hold, they were hers completely. Although it wasn't the most profitable part of her bookstore business, it was by far the most enjoyable.

"Tell us another one," the little girl sitting next to her pleaded.

"One more," the other children chorused.

Kate was tempted to give in, but the clock on the wall read five minutes to six, and she was eager to close on time this Friday night. It had been a long, busy week, and she had inventory to unpack before the weekend tourist crowds descended. "That's all for today," she said, getting to her feet. Although the children protested, the group gradually drifted from the store, a few mothers making purchases on their way out the door.

"Great story," Theresa Delantoni said. "Did you make that up as you went along, or did you read it somewhere?"