Once Upon a Valentine (11 page)
Read Once Upon a Valentine Online
Authors: Stephanie Bond
Tags: #Anthology, #Blazing Bedtime Stories
He would give the proceeds of the sale of the formula to Summer for her horse-rescue program. At least he could feel good about that. But a sale could be months in the making and meanwhile, he knew she was scrambling to relocate the ten horses in her care.
Needing to feel close to his father, he pulled out the box of personal items he’d removed from Barber’s desk. Most of them harkened back to Barber MacMillan’s veterinarian days—appointment books, photos and journals. Andrew poured himself a drink and settled down to read the leather-bound diaries, hoping to gain some insight into his father.
The stories were amazing. Andrew was drawn in to his father’s world of animal patients and their owners, of a thousand mundane details of living in Tiny that somehow his father spun into absorbing gems. He often mentioned his beloved wife. But most remarkable to Andrew were the entries about himself—his father had raved about his son’s talents and intellect and divulged that he feared he would lose him because “he is too big for this place.”
And when Andrew had left, his father was bereft. Until that moment, Andrew hadn’t realized how much Barber had missed him. The holiday visits that Andrew had found so frustrating, Barber described as joyous. He’d been despondent every time Andrew had driven away.
Andrew wiped his eyes and kept reading until the wee hours. His father mentioned Summer in many of the entries, what a sweet, beautiful person she was and how he hoped she’d find a good man to love and take care of her. He also mentioned the conditioning formula he was secretly developing, how Red was getting suspicious about the money he was spending on his clandestine project and how he was considering telling Andrew about it. He was afraid his son would think he was a fool.
When Andrew closed the last diary, a folded piece of paper fell out. He picked it up and realized it was the hair conditioning recipe, the same one that Summer had shown him in the binder she maintained.
Except on this paper, next to the amount of water required for a batch of Mane Squeeze, his father had written, “I realize now the secret ingredient in the formula isn’t the aloe and evening primrose oil, but water from the cave spring. I believe it has something to do with the limestone that filters the water. Horses that eat limestone-fed grass in Kentucky and Tennessee have stronger bones, so it follows that the mineral-rich water would make human hair stronger, too.”
Dazed, Andrew touched his forehead. Water from the cave spring was the secret ingredient? And maybe limestone made it special…or maybe it was something else in the depths of the warm spring. Not that it mattered. Without access to the water to test and use in the recipe, the formula was of no use to anyone.
He pushed to his feet and walked to the mantel with a heavy heart. His father had been right about so many things…if he’d only listened. He only had himself to blame for losing the farm, the formula and Summer. But there was one thing he could do for his father—he could spread Barber’s ashes over the land he’d loved.
He picked up the urn. Truman stirred, then lifted his head. “Come on, boy,” Andrew said. “Let’s take a ride.”
12
FUELED BY ADRENALINE and a clear head, Andrew drove through the night to arrive in Tiny just after dawn. The roads were buzzing with school buses and farm trucks…it was the picture of Americana. Truman became more animated as his surroundings became more familiar. When they drove past Summer’s house, he barked excitedly.
“If she doesn’t want me, maybe she’ll still take you,” Andrew offered.
As he drove onto his father’s property, it occurred to him that the State Park might have already put up fences or posted a security guard on the property, but to his relief, there were no barriers. He climbed out, cradling the urn. Truman was ecstatic to be back home and bounded away happily, making tracks in the frost-laden grass.
It was a cool morning, with a stiff breeze blowing. His light jacket felt good as he walked past the stables and headed out into the fields. He turned in the direction of the tallest rise on the farm, a pretty little hillock not far from the cave spring. Andrew climbed to the top and turned to survey the MacMillan property, deeply grieved that he’d been so short-sighted as to sell it, and not just because of the cave spring.
His family’s sweat and tears were in this land. He opened the urn and slowly upended it on a breeze that carried the ashes away in a mesmerizing, swirling pattern. Truman chased the dust, as if he knew what it represented. Andrew lowered the empty urn, satisfied. Now his father’s ashes were part of the land, as well.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered, “for getting it all wrong.”
After a few moments of silence, Andrew retraced his steps toward the house, feeling at peace for the first time in a long time…except about one thing: Summer. After he’d ruined things so thoroughly, would she even talk to him?
As he approached the stables, he heard a horse whinnying as if in distress, and loud banging noises. He hurried toward the stable and found Sallie, the last horse Summer had rescued, wild in her stall, kicking and keening.
Andrew balked. He wasn’t good with the big beasts, not like his father, not like Summer. He was tense around them, and the horses seemed to pick up on it. In hindsight, he realized it was probably because he resented the time and attention his father paid to the animals. Whatever the reason, he was uncomfortable around them, and they were uncomfortable around him.
But if he didn’t do something to calm the old horse, she was going to hurt herself, or incite the other horses to injury. Indeed, they were all pacing and braying. Only Max seemed unruffled.
Andrew pulled a blanket from the wall and advanced to the mare’s stall with caution. He didn’t want to spook her further. “Easy,” he murmured. “Easy, old girl.” Her ears twitched and she paused for a few seconds, snorting and huffing, her breath white clouds in the cool morning air.
He opened her stall door, but that set her off again. She reared and kicked, her eyes rolling wildly.
He pulled back to escape flying hooves.
SUMMER WAS STROLLING toward the stables when she heard a horse neighing, in trouble. She set off on a run, lost her hat and kept going. She rounded the corner and came up short.
Andrew was in Sallie’s stall, his big arms around her neck, murmuring into her ear. “Easy, girl…easy. That’s it…quiet, calm…easy.”
Her heart catapulted to her throat.
He looked up and smiled.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. He looked travel worn and his jaw was dark with a half day’s worth of beard. She’d lain awake every night since he’d left hoping, wishing he’d come back, but knowing it was impossible. Yet, here he was, dressed in dusty jeans and boots, as if he were back to stay....
He lifted a handful of corn for Sallie to nibble, still rubbing her neck. When the corn was gone, he slowly backed out of the stall and closed the door. “I came back to spread my father’s ashes on the farm, like he wanted.”
She didn’t have the right to be so disappointed at his reason for returning. She was glad he had respected Barber’s wishes. “That’s nice.”
Truman came bounding up and ran around her knees with abandon. His coat was covered with burrs.
“Oh, and Truman hated the city,” Andrew added. “I don’t suppose you’d still be willing to take him in?”
Summer smiled. “Gabby will complain, but she’ll come around eventually.” Did he have any idea how much he was torturing her by standing an arm’s length in front of her?
Andrew shifted from foot to foot. “Would you be willing to take me in, too?”
Summer squinted. Surely she’d misunderstood him. “What did you say?”
He stepped toward her and lifted his hand to her cheek. “Would you be willing to take me in, too? I’ve decided I hate the city, too, because you’re not there.”
Her heart began to pound in her chest. “But your job…”
“I’ll reinvent myself.”
“You could market your father’s formula,” she suggested excitedly.
He winced. “There’s a wrinkle—suffice it to say I messed up royally. Turns out the secret ingredient in the formula is the cave-spring water.”
Summer gasped. “How do you know?”
“I found it in my father’s diary…after I authorized the sale of the place to the State Park.” He looked pained. “You’re right—I was focused on all the wrong things and wound up losing the things that were the most important.” He caressed her cheek. “Unless you’re willing to give a stupid man another chance.”
Summer’s heart filled with hope, but she didn’t want to assume anything. She needed to know how Andrew felt about her. She lifted her chin. “Why should I?”
He sighed. “Because I love you desperately…and I can’t live without you.”
Her heart expanded and overflowed with joy. Emotion clogged her throat. She put her arms around his neck and brought his face close to hers. “I love you, too, so much. But you should know—I just sold my house.”
He pulled back. “But you love that place.”
“But I love this place more.”
His eyes flew wide. “This place?”
She nodded. “I worked out a trade with Tessa—my place for this one, she gets two commissions.”
A smile curled Andrew’s mouth. “And I get you?”
Summer nodded and pulled his mouth to hers for a deep, promising kiss. When she drew back, she fingered her shorn locks. “Be honest—do you like my hair? I’ve been thinking about letting it grow again.”
“I love it,” he murmured. “But since you have control of the secret formula, you can do whatever you want.” He nuzzled her neck. “Short hair or long, woman, you’ve got me all tangled up. For good.”
* * * * *
Leslie Kelly
Sleeping with a Beauty
To Caitlin, Lauren &
Megan…thanks for all those wonderful nights,
listening to bedtime stories.
Contents
Prologue
ONCE UPON A TIME, in the kingdom of Seaside, in the world of Elatyria, a beautiful princess was born. This princess always smiled, sang like an angel and was adored by all.
But one day, she fell under a spell cast by an evil fairy and was cursed to sleep forever. Her heartbroken parents had themselves and their court cursed, too, hoping someday their daughter would awaken and they would be reunited.
Years passed. Then decades. Finally, a century or two.
The castle—perched high on a cliff above the sea—fell into ruin. Under a spell cast by the wicked fairy, the waters became rough and wild. Any ships daring to trespass were dashed against the jagged rocks. There was but one small pathway to the castle, known by only a few, and a thick hedge of thorns protected it.
Soon, those who knew the real story died off. Whispers of the sleeping beauty turned into myth and the people of Seaside drifted away, forgetting there had ever been a royal family.
The years marched on, relentless and unforgiving. The castle and the people in it lay in shadowy silence. The gleam of their jewel-encrusted gowns faded and their gold plates grew tarnished. Dust settled over the chests full of diamonds and rubies until they were useful only as nests for mice. Time had swallowed the royal court, and it appeared destined to sleep for all eternity.
Then, one day, a handsome prince from a faraway land heard about the sleeping princess. Determined to find her and make her his bride, he sailed the wild seas, scaled the high cliffs, endured the sharp thorns. Some say he battled a dragon (which is a bit silly, really, since all Elatyrians know dragons have very sensitive skin and can’t live near the salty-aired sea).
His trials strengthened his resolve and the prince fought his way into the castle. He ignored the slumbering royals, strode past the tables piled with gold and kicked jewels away. Then, in a room in the tallest tower, he found the sleeping princess.
Overwhelmed by her beauty, the prince kissed her. The curse was broken, the sleeping maiden awakened by love’s first kiss.
