Forever Fall

Suddenly they’re in charge of testing a “robo baby” designed to show teens how hard parenting really is. Will playing house lead to the real thing?

“I think we should give the ‘robo babies’
 . . .
a test drive.”

Catherine, a leading member of the Carson school board, nodded her approval at Mandy. Mandy hid a smile and grasped at the thread of hope. As both a social worker and a survivor of a harsh upbringing as an unwanted child, she wanted the robo-baby program to have a chance.

“My suggestion is that the baby simulator be put to the test in a real family setting,” Catherine continued. “Once that’s completed, we can use the findings to make an informed decision.”

Reverend John Thomas leaned forward. “And exactly who would you suggest do this testing, Catherine? All the board members, having already experienced the dubious joys of parenthood, would know what to expect. Thus making us the guinea pigs would prove nothing. And I’d like to go on record as saying that until the board makes a decision, I strongly object to bringing anyone in from the outside.”

“Exactly, John.” Catherine smiled sweetly and turned back to Mandy and hunky Carson High principal Lucas Michaels. “That’s why we need a couple who can keep this discreetly confidential and who have no parenting experience. The obvious choices for the test are Ms. James and Mr. Michaels.”

Hawks Mountain

Summer Rose

Forever Fall

Winter Magic (Coming in 2013)

by

Elizabeth Sinclair

Bell Bridge Books

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-198-2
Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-203-3

Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 by Elizabeth Sinclair
Summer Rose
(excerpt) copyright © 2011 by Elizabeth Sinclair

Printed and bound in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo credits:
Deer (manipulated) © Howard Cheek | Dreamstime.com
Landscape (manipulated) © Melkor | Renderosity.com

:Mf2:01:

To all the single moms struggling to raise their babies on their own. God bless you all and keep you and your babies safe and secure.

Fall

Hi there!

I’m so glad you could stop back and see my mountain in all its fall finery. It never ceases to amaze me how the good Lord finds time to make His Earth so beautiful with each passing season. This fall He seems to have outdone Himself, dressing up the trees in bright orange, red and yellow. Why, the mountain seems to just glow with all that color.

Fall is definitely in the air. All the signs are there. The men are already starting to talk about the World Series and who’s gonna win. The pumpkins are ripening in the fields; the corn is ready to harvest; Bessie has decked out the town square in a rainbow of chrysanthemums; and the smell of burning leaves is perfuming the air. Even though it’s only the beginning of September, Sam Watkins reports that he’s gonna have a fine pumpkin crop, and the young’uns are already trying to decide what to wear for Halloween. The apple crop seems to be extra fine this year, too, all red and juicy. I’ve already made a few pies for Becky and Nick, and I think I’ll do candied apples for the kids for Halloween. I don’t get many trick or treaters up here on the mountain. Only those that their parents don’t mind totin’ up here in their cars. But I always look forward to the little ones coming by and showing off their costumes.

Lydia Collins says Davy wants to dress up like the huntsman from
Red Riding Hood
and take his pet wolf, Sadie, along with him. Lydia’s not too sure that’s a good idea. Despite Sadie acting like a big, old, gentle dog with Davy, there’s some folks still scared witless of that big wolf.

School starts next week, and Becky says that her new social worker, Amantha (she goes by Mandy) James, will be showing up at the first school board meeting with her idea for cutting down on the teenage pregnancies in town. Should be quite a show. Most of the town’s planning on turning out for it. Poor Lucas Michaels, the principal, is gonna have a tangle to sort through. I’m sure if Asa Watkins, the School Superintendent, has any say in it (and I can’t feature him not adding his two cents), Mandy is gonna have a fight on her hands.

I hear tell the house that Jonathan Prince fella is building outside of town is finally done, and it’s a regular palace from all reports. I can’t figure why anyone would want a house that big, unless they were married and had a slew of young’uns to fill it up. But, as I always say, to each his own. He and his family have moved in, and I wish them well.

I guess we all have our reasons for what we do. Some talk about it, others keep it hidden deep inside so only they know about it.

They tell me that the phone company has put up a cell tower on the outskirts of town, so most folks in the valley can use those little phones they carry around with them like a lifeline. Guess it’s true, ’cause now, when I go to Keeler’s Market, I see people walking up and down the aisles with those things glued to their heads like a third ear. Personally, I still like face-to-face conversations. If I wanted to talk to some gadget, I’d have long heart-to-hearts with my refrigerator. Becky’s always tellin’ me I need to keep up with times. She might be right. But I sure do love a nice chat over a cup of tea. I can’t imagine getting the same warm feeling from talking into some gadget. Besides, you can learn a lot looking at a person eye-to-eye.

Well, it’s time for Lydia’s radio show, so I best get into the parlor and turn on the radio so I don’t miss it. You all can stick around and see what’s developing. If it’s action you’re looking for, I promise, Carson won’t disappoint you.

Love,

Granny Jo

“It’s simple, Luc, if this woman gets her way, I’ll see to it that your contract as principal of Carson High School isn’t renewed.” Asa Watkins, the Superintendent of Carson High School’s Board of Education, folded his hands over his thickening middle, crossed his legs and assumed a self-satisfied demeanor.

For Lucas Michaels, the high school principal, the posh offices of Carson Savings and Loan seemed suddenly stifling. He adjusted his position in the cushy, leather chair. Until this moment, Asa had toyed with Luc, hinting at the consequences of not supporting him in his bid to stop the introduction of baby simulators into the school’s family planning classes. Now, the gloves were off, and there was no mistaking the superintendent’s intent.

“And exactly how do you plan on doing that? I believe it takes the vote of the entire board to dismiss my contract renewal.”

Asa smiled, his expression reminding Luc of a cat that had just finished a big bowl of rich cream. “I’m not without influence on the board. I hold a number of the mortgages in this town.” The smile faded into an expression of self-assured arrogance.

It sickened Luc that Asa had no qualms about using his financial hold on the other board members to achieve his goal.

Asa waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “They’re all lemmings. They follow the leader where ever he chooses to lead them.” The look of arrogance intensified. “In this instance, I am the leader, and I do not intend to take them in a direction that will drain funds from the athletic department’s budget.”

“If your influence is all that great, why not just cut to the chase and talk them out of supporting it?” Luc struggled to keep his absolute distaste for this arrogant, pompous jerk under wraps and not bound across the desk to pop him in the mouth.

Asa’s dark brows arched. His beady, gray-eyed gaze bore into Luc. “I don’t have to tell you that the people of Carson put great stock in our outstanding record of obtaining athletic scholarships. Why, half of them wouldn’t be able to send their kids to college at all without them.” His expression grew hard. He leaned forward and glared at Luc over his pristine oak desk. “I intend to run for mayor in the upcoming election, and I don’t want my record blackened by wasting money on something as asinine as buying dolls for teenagers to play house with. That said, neither do I want to go down in Carson’s history as the man who condoned teenage pregnancy.”

Luc flashed him a sardonic grin. “You’d rather it be me who holds that distinction.”

In every situation, his military father had told Luc, there is always someone who is expendable. It seemed Luc had been assigned that role. Still, the bad taste that had flooded his mouth about the same time he’d received Asa’s summons returned and intensified.

“If I agree to do this
 . . . .
” In an effort to keep his true feelings hidden, Luc casually brushed a piece of lint off the cuff of his navy suit jacket. “Exactly how would you suggest I go about it?”

Asa’s smile held an almost fiendish satisfaction. “I’m sure that between now and the board meeting next week, you’ll come up with some solid arguments against Ms. James’ hare-brained notion of spending bundles of money on her robot dolls.”

It would seem that if Luc wanted to keep his job, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Though he hated himself and Asa Watkins for the position in which he found himself, Luc had to consider the consequences of not complying with Asa’s demands.

Luc treasured the life he’d made for himself in Carson: the first stable home he’d ever known, good friends, a job he loved. Could he give all that up for the sake of a woman who wanted to introduce some dolls into the curriculum? After all, there were already effective forms of birth control and family planning taught in the school. It wasn’t as if he’d be leaving the kids with nothing. Still, he hated buckling in to Asa. However, left with little choice
 . . . .

Luc forced a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

Asa’s hard expression melted into a satisfied grin. “I knew I could count on you, my boy.”

Of course you did, you arrogant jerk. You backed me into a corner and left me no escape route.

Asa stood, signifying an end to their meeting. He extended his hand. Luc stuck his in his pocket. Asa let his hand drop back to his side. “In three weeks, it will be my distinct pleasure to recommend to the board that they renew your contract, pending the outcome of the board meeting, of course.”

Luc should have been relieved, but he wasn’t. He left the bank and headed for his car. His stride alone told anyone passing him that he was not happy. When people began to give him a wide berth, he decided that, for the most part, his expression must have verified his state of mind. He hated being backed into a corner. It reminded him all too vividly of the times his by-the-book Army general father had done just that to him. Luc had wanted to lash out at Asa and tell him he could put the principal job where the sun didn’t shine, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d buckled under.

Why?

Instantly, a vision of his house, his friends and his adopted hometown came into his head. Even though he’d only been here for three years, he loved Carson and the people who lived here. Having led a nomadic life as a child, when Luc moved to Carson, he’d settled down and made friends he wouldn’t have to leave behind for the first time in his life. He’d held on to these things with a greed only a man who had grown up following his military father and socialite mother from Army base to Army base, leaving friends behind and acclimating to new schools, could. Giving up his position as principal would mean moving to a new community and starting all over again. He couldn’t do that for anyone. He could not give up the only real home he’d ever known. Then again, as his father had been fond of saying every time that young Luc had bristled about moving to a new location
 . . .
nothing is forever
.

If this old maid social worker had been doing her research, she would know that Carson already taught abstinence in the family planning classes and, at great expense, had installed condom vending machines in all the bathrooms. How could she expect them to spend yet more money on these
robo
babies of hers?

By the time Luc reached his car, he wasn’t any happier with Asa, nor with the task he’d given Luc, but he had made a modicum of peace with his own conscience about what he had to do.

I’m dead meat!

Amantha James forced herself not to squirm in the hard, straight-back, oak chair. She raised her gaze to survey the cause of her unrest. Like five hungry vultures sitting on a fence, the Carson School Board studied her from behind the long library table. All but one, the only woman on the board, looked as if they’d already made up their minds, and their decision didn’t look promising.

Keep your cool. Don’t start jumping to conclusions. You haven’t even presented your case yet. Besides, this isn’t the first time you’ve come up against a wall of opposition, nor will it be the last.

Easier said than done, however, considering that, with every loud tick of the school clock behind her, their concentrated gazes shot tiny arrows of doubt into her confidence, deflating it at an alarming rate.

She gathered her courage around her and sat a little taller. She’d be darned if she was going to let five people, who would obviously rather be somewhere else, deter her. Very few causes in her life had carried the importance of this one, and she would see it through to the end. All she had to do was hold on a little while longer.

“So, Bill, I didn’t see you in the stands at the game Saturday. Last game of the season. Too bad you missed it.” Asa Watkins, president of the Carson Savings and Loan and Superintendent of Schools, addressed the man Mandy had already identified as Bill Keeler, owner of the local supermarket.

From the tone of his voice, Mandy decided that Asa’s statement held more of a reprimand than a casual interest in the other man’s weekend activities.

Bill shook his head and studied his hands. “Mildred and the girls wanted me to take them to the mall down in Prescott.”

Asa raised a brow. “Mildred drives, doesn’t she? Why couldn’t she go herself?”

The man still kept his face averted from his questioner. “She doesn’t take to driving in heavy traffic. Always has me go along to take the wheel.”

“Well,” Asa said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands over his ample middle, “you missed a great game. That Jeb Tanner’s some ballplayer.”

The man to Asa’s other side, the youngest member of the board, leaned into the conversation. Becky Hart, Mandy’s superior at the social services office, had told her the young one would be Charles Henderson, the board’s accountant.

“His dad told me that he’s about certain Jeb will get the athletic scholarship to UCLA.” Henderson smiled. “Boy’s got some throwing arm on him.”

All three men laughed. The skinny man not quite as exuberantly as the rest, almost as if it was expected of him.

Mandy sighed to herself. Becky had been right. This town had
sports
tattooed on their brain cells, and Asa Watkins ruled this group with an iron fist. She was going to have to talk herself blue to get past using money from their over-endowed athletic department to fund her project.

“Jeb’s an ace quarterback, no doubt about that, and a sure thing for a football scholarship from one of the big schools. I told his father last spring that Jeb’s lateral pass would be the key.” Asa smiled at his companions, his chest expanding to indicate his part in this potential victory. “When that UCLA scout came to the first game, I just knew from the look on the guy’s face that Jeb will have it in the bag. Before the scout left, he indicated he’d be back at the end of the year.”

“How many scholarships does that make now?” The speaker this time was a man with a clerical collar and a ruddy face, Reverend Thomas, the minister of the local church.

Asa closed his eyes in thought. When they popped open, he grinned like a cat with a fat mouse in his sights. “Five in all. With Jeb’s scholarship added to the total, it’ll make it six. I may have to get a bigger trophy case for my office.” He laughed and transferred his attention to Mandy. His gaze sent a silent message.
Don’t mess with me, lady.

Mandy met it head on with her own silent challenge.
You don’t scare me.

She looked away. Glancing around the old schoolhouse’s library, she wondered when the one absent member of their solemn gathering, the school’s principal, would show up. She glanced to the open window which admitted a late fall breeze perfumed with the sweet odor of burning leaves that overrode that unique smell of chalk, paper, books and rubber-soled sneakers that hovered in the air in every school. Forcing calm to her jangled nerves, she inhaled deeply and peered at her watch. Eight thirty. Half an hour late. How much longer would he make them wait?

Appearing composed and confident got harder with each passing moment. Her back hurt from sitting so straight, the hard chair seat had stolen the feeling from her backside almost twenty minutes ago, and her good mood, along with her patience, was dwindling rapidly. Her stomach rumbled in protest of the supper she’d missed to get here on time. She tugged the sleeve of her red plaid suit jacket over the watch face and tried not to show her agitation.

“Mr. Michaels will be here shortly, Ms. James. You must understand that this meeting made it necessary for him to rearrange his evening to accommodate us.” The explanation came from Asa Watkins.

Watkins, a single, fortyish man, who had been keeping a close eye on the height of Mandy’s skirt hem, had caught her agitated movements. As unobtrusively as possible, she pulled her skirt lower over her knees and smiled.

“I understand.” What she wanted to say and didn’t dare was that, having known about the meeting for weeks, she found the principal’s tardiness rude and inconsiderate. But why shoot herself in the foot before she’d had the opportunity to present her case?

To keep her mind off her growing irritation with the absent Lucas Michaels, she scanned the five people at the long library table. She tried to guess their voting preference, but a cool, feminine voice interrupted her before she could start.

“While we wait, why don’t you fill us in on your proposal, my dear?” Catherine Daniels, the only female member and the town matriarch, drew Mandy’s attention. The older woman smiled graciously from beneath a navy, feather-encrusted hat, no doubt custom-designed for her by some exclusive New York City milliner.

She returned Catherine’s smile. “If it’s all right with the board, I’d rather wait until Mr. Michaels is here, so I don’t have to cover everything again.”

Just then the door at the rear of the school’s small library opened on squeaky hinges. She turned to see a very tall man in a gray business suit, white shirt and a conservative, burgundy tie enter the room, briefcase in hand, his forehead creased in a frown. As he walked slowly to the front of the room, his spit-polished wing-tips clicked rhythmically across the oiled hardwood floor.

Mandy’s breath left her lungs in a painful
whoosh
. Oddly enough, she seemed unable to replenish it. For the first time that night, gratitude for the hard, uncomfortable chair seeped into her. Without it, she wasn’t at all sure her legs would have held her body weight.

With his dark, good looks, the principal of Carson High School could have just stepped off the cover of
Hunk of the Month.
Mandy had seen him around town and had to admit that, like most of the single women and the high school girls, Lucas Michaels demanded closer female scrutiny. And if she wanted to be totally honest, she’d taken her share of glances at the handsome principal, and maybe even fantasized about him a bit. However, she had no plans to become another notch on his bedpost or, for that matter, any other man’s.

“Ah, Luc, finally.
Now
, we can get started.” Asa’s greeting interrupted her musings. She noted that his tone held a hint of rebuke, which seemed to roll off Lucas Michaels like rain off a greased windowpane.