chapter ONE
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1962
I can’t believe Daddy made me go over to the Walkers’ place today. On my way over there, I hoped that no one would be home and I could come back and tell him so. I didn’t get that lucky.
Of all people, Curtis Walker answered the door. The nerve of that boy. If I didn’t think he was cute, I would be really mad at him right now. Not that I like him. I’m still on the fence about that. He’s… I don’t know what he is. Stubborn, maybe?
When I got to his house, he was the last person I expected to see when the front door opened. I figured if anyone would answer when I knocked, it would be Carol, the lady who works for them.
I should probably mention that the Walkers aren’t like the rest of us. Granite Creek is such a small town. We’ve got one school, one pharmacy, one gas station, a diner, and a tiny little grocery store. It’s more of a farming community than a town, and it’s no secret that people aren’t rich here.
And then you’ve got the Walkers. Not only do they live in one of the nicest houses, they’ve got people who work for them, and I’m not talking about on their ranch. They have a housekeeper and a cook, while we have to do all the work ourselves. With so many people doing things for them, I’m surprised Curtis even knows how to answer the door.
That wasn’t the worst, though. When he joined me on his porch, he nearly pushed me out of the way, not even saying he was sorry. Then again, he’s a Walker, and everyone in Granite Creek knows that the Walkers are big shots. They’re arrogant and rowdy, even mean sometimes. Especially Mr. Walker. But he’s dead now, so at least I didn’t have to talk to him. That would’ve been bad.
I heard that Mr. Walker’s funeral was a big to-do with most of the people in town showing up to say good-bye even though no one really liked him. We didn’t go, of course. Daddy didn’t like Mr. Walker, and he makes sure everyone knows it. Which makes me wonder why Daddy wanted me to go over there in the first place. I heard him and Momma talking about Mr. Walker’s death wishes. Something about land and money, I think. I tuned it out because Daddy is always talking about how hard it is that we don’t have money and everyone else in town has more than we do.
I don’t care about their money. It don’t make no difference to me. Not that I can tell Momma or Daddy that. They wouldn’t like it much. Maybe tomorrow I’ll ask Mitch or Kathy why I had to be the one to go. They might know.
I’m actually writing in this notebook because of Curtis. Something tells me I should start writing down my thoughts. Maybe it’ll be important one day, I don’t know. What I do know is that I hope no one finds my new diary. I wouldn’t want them to read any of it. I’ll have to think of a good hiding place.
53 years ago
October 1962
“Curtis! Joseph! One of you boys answer the damn door!”
Curtis Walker frowned, his mother’s intoxicated shriek grating on his nerves as he moved through the big, empty house, heading for the damn door. The Patsy Cline record she’d been playing nonstop skipped momentarily, then, unfortunately, found its groove again.
Although there were ten of them who lived there—well, technically eight now—for some reason, the place felt hollow these days. Aside from the depressing music drifting throughout, plus the numerous liquor bottles that had become decoration as of late, there was a void that had taken up residence.
Could’ve been because his father had died, or because his older brother, Gerald, was a year into his Army career, stationed elsewhere, or perhaps it was his mother’s recently acquired drinking problem that was causing everyone to stay out of sight. Regardless, ever since Frank Walker Sr. had suffered a massive heart attack and gone and died on them just a couple of weeks back, Curtis’s mother had been on a downward spiral, becoming more and more irritable with every passing day. To the point Curtis didn’t want to be here, but he didn’t have anywhere to go today, so here he was.
He had no clue where his brothers and sisters were, and he didn’t much care. Still, he didn’t understand why the hell Carol couldn’t answer the damn door. She was the housekeeper. Wasn’t that what they paid her to do? Or was Carol taking care of the little ones, keeping them a safe distance from Mary Elizabeth and the bottle of hooch she’d commandeered from God knew where?
“I’m comin’,” he announced to the door when more knocks sounded.
Figuring it was another person bringing some foil-covered crap for them to eat now that his old man had kicked the bucket, Curtis steeled himself for an uncomfortable conversation. Not that he didn’t miss the old bastard, but truth was, with Frank gone, life wasn’t quite as bad as it had been. Even the little ones seemed less stressed.
A bottle crashed in the other room, jarring him momentarily. For a fraction of a second, he considered going to check on his mother, but thought better of it. She’d been drinking for the better part of the day, which meant she was close to passing out if they would leave her be.
Another knock had him gritting his teeth.
With a little more force than necessary, Curtis grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and then jerked it open, coming face to face with … air.
He glanced down and frowned, confused.
There, standing on his front porch, was the last person in the world he’d expected to see. Since most of the townsfolk had already been by—some more than once—he had figured the visitors would’ve stopped by now. But he suspected this blond-haired, blue-eyed girl wasn’t here to bring them food. It wasn’t a secret that her old man despised the Walkers. Still, he said, “If you’ve got a casserole, you can take it on back home. We don’t need no more food.”
Lorrie Jameson stared back at him as though he were speaking a foreign language.
He eyed her suspiciously, noticing her hands were empty. “You didn’t bring food?”
She shook her head.
“Then what d’ya want?” he grumbled to the girl now glaring back at him as though he’d kicked her dog.
She still didn’t answer.
“Come on, girl. You came to my house. What d’ya want?”
“I don’t like you,” she said haughtily, hands on her narrow hips as she pinned him in place. “I don’t know why I even bothered.”
That made him smile as he gave her a good once-over, starting at her poufy, golden-blond hair that sat atop her shoulders, and then slowly letting his gaze travel the length of her body. She was… She wasn’t the typical girl who caught his eye, but he liked what he saw. She was on the short side, and not as filled out as he would’ve preferred, a tad bit too skinny, too, but as he let his gaze roam up toward her face once more, he paused to admire her great boobs. A little small but nice. He fleetingly wondered what she would look like in a bathing suit, instead of that boring yellow dress that hid most of her and hung past her knees. Yep. He definitely wanted to know what she’d look like in a bathing suit. One of those two-piece numbers.
“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” she hissed, her soft voice laced with venom, eyes glittering with what he could only assume was frustration. Or perhaps hatred.
Nonetheless, she was feisty. He liked that.
He let his eyes travel up to meet hers, and she wrinkled her nose up at him. A laugh rumbled up from his gut, spilling out of his mouth as he stepped outside before his mother could get all nosy and ask who it was.
“How’m I lookin’ at you?” he asked, stepping right up to her, his much bigger body forcing her backward. Last time he’d been to the doctor, they’d told him he would be taller than his old man. That had been two years ago, and he’d succeeded last year after he’d turned sixteen, already six foot five. She had to have been a full ruler shorter than him. Maybe more.
Lorrie didn’t answer, but the irritation remained in her eyes, intriguing him.
“Why’re you here?” he asked, reverting to his original question as he moved over to the railing that surrounded his parents’ ranch house. Well, it was now his mother’s, he guessed.
As she watched him, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out, then put it between his lips.
“Because my daddy told me to come over here.”
“To do what?” The cigarette bobbed when he asked.
Lorrie shrugged, watching as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket.
The way her little nose flared amused him. She didn’t look at all happy to be there. Or maybe she didn’t like the fact that he smoked.
“So your old man forced you to come over here?” Curtis lit his cigarette and inhaled.
“Yep.”
“To see one of my sisters?”
“Nope.”
“My mom?” He exhaled slowly.
“Uh-uh.”
“My brother?” Curtis knew that she couldn’t possibly want to see Gerald, because he was off in the Army. And he doubted she wanted to see Frank Jr. or Lisa or Maryanne because they were still little brats. But everyone knew his brother Joseph had a mad crush on Lorrie. They were almost the same age, he guessed.
“Wrong again.”
“Then who? Me?” Surely not.
“Mm-hmm.”
That didn’t make any damn sense. “Well, what the hell for?”
“Didn’t you hear me the first time? I. Don’t. Know.”
Although they went to the same school—Granite Creek, with a population of 470, had only one school—Curtis hadn’t ever talked to Lorrie before. She was several grades beneath him. He’d sometimes had words with her older brother, Mitch, but never with anyone else in her family. And because their town was so small, he knew them all. He knew that Lorrie had two brothers and five sisters, the youngest only a few months old. He knew that her old man was a ranch hand at one of the places outside of town because he was too good to work for the Walkers, or so Curtis’s father used to say. And he knew the old bastard had a heavy hand with his kids and that her momma was too timid and quiet, and she got knocked around quite a bit, too. Well, the last part was a rumor, but some of her bruises had been talked about before.
“How old are you?” he questioned curiously when it was clear she wasn’t going to enlighten him.
“Why do you wanna know?” she snapped.
“It’s a safe question, don’t ya think? It ain’t like I asked what color your panties are.”
Lorrie’s cheeks went from pink to red in a heartbeat, and it was in that moment that Curtis realized how pretty she was. Huh. Strange that he’d never noticed. Maybe not as pretty as Helen Jenkins, but she was definitely a close second. Then again, he didn’t much like Helen because that girl wouldn’t leave him alone.
“How old are you?” she countered, ignoring his question altogether.
“Sixteen,” he said proudly. “But I’ll be seventeen in a coupla weeks.”
“Well, I just turned fourteen.”
“Fourteen, huh?” If he hadn’t already suspected she was the same age as Joseph, he never would’ve guessed. Lorrie Jameson definitely didn’t look fourteen. Curtis grinned to himself, leaning against the railing, bracing himself with one hand while bringing his cigarette to his mouth with the other. “You’re just a baby,” he goaded before taking a drag.
“Quit teasin’ me, Curtis Walker.”
“If you don’t want me teasin’ you, why the hell’d you come over here?”
“Don’t you swear at me!” Lorrie exclaimed. “And I told you. My daddy told me to.”
“I heard you the first time,” Curtis bit out. “But that don’t make no sense. What for?”
Lorrie shrugged, but Curtis got the impression that she didn’t want to tell him the truth. Or maybe, just maybe, she really didn’t know.
Lorrie Jameson didn’t know how to answer Curtis’s question because she honestly didn’t know why Daddy had wanted her to come over. Rather than repeat herself, she shrugged her shoulders again. Although she’d asked him, Daddy hadn’t explained his reason for wanting her to go visit the Walkers, but ever since Mr. Walker had died, he’d been insisting that she talk to Curtis. Why Curtis and not Joseph or David or even Daphne, she couldn’t figure out. The only thing he’d said was that it wouldn’t hurt for her to get to know him.
The thing was, Lorrie didn’t want to get to know Curtis. Or any of the Walkers, in fact.
But when Daddy had threatened to get his belt (far more drastic an action than she’d been expecting), she’d known he was serious, so she’d promised him that she would go talk to him when she could.
And here she was, in an attempt to get this out of the way so she could move on with her life.
“Well, if you ain’t got nothin’ to say, I’m goin’ inside,” Curtis drawled, exhaling smoke as he spoke, his deep voice laced with irritation as he pushed off the rail.
“Fine. Go inside then.” Lorrie turned to head down the steps, but Curtis stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Hold on, girl,” he grumbled, as though he hadn’t expected her to hightail it out of there so fast.
“What?”
“You really don’t know why you’re here?” His gravelly voice was a little softer, his blue-gray eyes studying her face.
He really did have dreamy eyes. All the girls said so. Lorrie hadn’t ever paid much attention, but his irises were a rich, smoky blue, and his eyes were ringed with long, dark lashes. His skin was smooth and tan from being out in the sun, but she couldn’t see his hair because of the cowboy hat he wore all the time.
Finding herself unable to speak, Lorrie shook her head.
“But your old man wanted you to?”
“My daddy said I had to,” she clarified. “Said if I didn’t, I’d get a whoopin’.”
“Well, that’s just stupid,” Curtis argued, then nodded toward the porch. “Sit down.”
Confused, Lorrie plopped down on the top step. When Curtis sat down beside her, she moved over so that he wasn’t too close. He took another drag on his cigarette, then flicked the butt into the dirt.
For some reason, she couldn’t stop looking at him as he propped his elbows on his knees and stared out into the yard. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been this close to him before. Sure, she’d seen him at school and she’d seen him at church, but never had she spoken to him.
“Why aren’t you here to talk to Joseph? He’s in your class, right?”
Lorrie didn’t like Joseph Walker. Ever since the third grade, when he’d put bubble gum in her hair, she hadn’t liked that boy.
“Yes,” she answered. “He’s in my class.”
“So it makes more sense for you to come see him.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she disputed, though yes, she had to agree, it kind of did.
“Yeah, it does.”
“Curtis Walker, quit arguin’ with me.”
“If you don’t want me to swear, and you don’t want me to argue, then tell me why you’re here,” he insisted crudely, his gaze slamming into hers.
Without a second thought, Lorrie hopped to her feet and skipped down the stairs, furious that her daddy had said she had to come over here. Curtis Walker was impossible, which made the idea of talking to him stupid. Especially since she didn’t know what she was supposed to say or do, and it was obvious he couldn’t have an intelligent conversation.
“Hey! Don’t go.” Curtis’s deep voice rumbled from somewhere behind her.
Lorrie waved over her head, refusing to turn around. She made it all the way to the end of his gravel drive before she realized he was following her.
“Leave me alone,” she hollered.
“No way. You came over here to see me. I wanna know what about.”
When Curtis’s big hand touched her shoulder, she spun around to face him. “I told you. My daddy said I had to,” she snapped.
“But he didn’t say why?”
“No.” Why was this boy so dense?
“So what’re you gonna do now?” he asked, glaring down at her, his big body shielding the sun from her eyes.
As she stood there staring up at the boy who had infuriated her so, she noticed several things about him. One, he was tall. Really tall. Taller than his brothers. The top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. He was big, but he was also skinny. Too skinny. Like he didn’t eat enough food or something.
But still, he was cute with his dark hair and dreamy eyes. She even liked his nose, which was a little crooked on the bridge. Then, of course, there was a dimple that winked every now and then in his cheek.
“I’m gonna go home,” she told him simply.
“What’ll you tell your old man?”
“That I came over to your house and talked to you.”
“What’ll he say?”
Lorrie shrugged. “That all depends on why he wanted me to come over.”
“Does your momma know you’re over here?”
“Yes.” Her mother had encouraged her to come over, as well. Said it wouldn’t hurt for Lorrie to get to know the Walkers. But her mother always reinforced whatever her daddy said to do.
“She ain’t worried about your virtue?” Curtis’s grin was devilish.
Goose bumps broke out along her arms as she thought about the implications of his words. The kind that made her want to take a step closer to Curtis, although she remained right where she was. “Are you worried about my virtue?”
Curtis’s full lips tilted into a smirk and Lorrie knew that look. It was the same way a lot of the boys at school had started to look at her once she’d started developing. Until now, she hadn’t liked it when they looked at her like that. But for some reason, she didn’t mind when Curtis did.
“Maybe.” His voice was low, the reverberation racing across her skin.
Curtis Walker had a reputation. Everyone knew he was rough and rowdy, always had been. There were rumors about him. Lots of them. About how he liked all the girls and all the girls liked him. And he especially liked to go necking in his daddy’s old farm truck down by the lake.
Lorrie didn’t know whether any of that was true. But she knew he was cute and funny—apparently not all the time, though—and according to Helen Jenkins, he was a good kisser.
She didn’t want to think about Curtis kissing Helen.
“Why don’t we take a walk down to the creek,” Curtis suggested.
“Why?”
“To talk,” he said, still smirking.
“About what?”
“Hell if I know, girl. We’ll figure it out as we go.”
She stared blankly up at him, a battle brewing in her head. She should go home and get as far away from Curtis Walker as possible. She should tell Daddy that Curtis was mean to her, but that would be a lie. He was a little rough around the edges, sure, but he hadn’t exactly been mean.
For some weird reason, her desire to leave was no longer as strong as it had been moments ago. Spending a little time with this boy wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. After all, her daddy had urged her to.
Maybe they could talk. About what, though? They didn’t really have much in common. They were from opposites sides of the railroad tracks. Literally. As it was, his family owned land in Granite Creek, and the Walker’s ranch was definitely the biggest around. Her parents lived in a small house with barely enough rooms to put all the kids, which meant Lorrie had to share a room with two of her sisters. Their yard was small, and her daddy owned an old, beat-up truck that didn’t start half the time. Complete opposites they were.
For some reason, that didn’t put her off the way it seemed to put off her parents. She didn’t care about Curtis’s money, or the fancy cherry-red Chevy truck in the drive, or that he didn’t have to wear clothes that his mother made for him, or even whether or not he had nice things in his house. None of that had ever mattered to her.
Still, there was something about him … something Lorrie hadn’t really noticed before. Perhaps it was the devilish twinkle in his eye or that smirk that made her insides quiver. When he was near, there was a strange flutter in her belly, and when he’d put his hand on her shoulder, a million little sparks had entered her body and flowed straight down to her toes. It was both exciting and scary.
The exciting part was now winning the battle over whether or not she should stay or go.
“Okay,” she finally said.
“Okay, what?” Curtis frowned.
“Okay, I’ll go down to the creek with you. To talk.”
Curtis’s devious smirk set loose a billion butterflies in her belly, but Lorrie ignored them—or tried to—as she started toward the creek, not waiting for him.
“Wha’d’ya wanna talk about?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“I don’t know.” He’d been the one to suggest they talk.
“Fine. Tell me why you don’t like my brother.”
“Which one?” she asked, knowing good and well which brother, but not wanting to answer the question.
Curtis chuckled. “How many of ’em do you not like?”
Lorrie shrugged.
“Girl, you ain’t makin’ this easy.”
“Maybe you’re just not askin’ the right questions,” she countered.
He chuckled again, and Lorrie found she liked the sound of his laughter. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him laugh before, not up close, anyway.
“Joseph,” he said. “Why don’t you like Joseph?”
“I like him just fine,” she lied. Curtis growled, and she was the one now laughing. “Okay. I don’t like him. He’s not very nice.”
“What’d he do? Maybe if it’s bad enough, I’ll take him out back and beat him up for it.”
“That’s not necessary,” she told him, not sure if he was making fun of her or stating a fact. “And it was a long time ago.”
“So, you do like him?”
“No,” she answered quickly.
“But you like me?”
“I didn’t say that, either.” Lorrie focused her attention on the ground, keeping an eye out for snakes and such that slithered through the tall, dry grass.
“What’d I do to you?” he inquired.
“I don’t know you,” she admitted.
“But you want to?”
Lorrie looked up at him, meeting those smoky blue eyes. “Maybe.”
Curtis nodded, his grin growing wider, but didn’t say anything more as they trekked down to the creek.
As they neared the water, Lorrie spotted a coyote standing by the stream, its head cocked as it watched them. There was another up on the ridge behind it. She stopped for a moment, taking in the sight, admiring them. She’d seen plenty of coyotes in and around Granite Creek, but most of them were scraggly and small. These two were beautiful.
“I shoulda brought my shotgun,” Curtis grumbled.
Lorrie put her hand on Curtis’s arm when he went to move forward. “No, don’t scare them away.”
“You like coyotes?”
“I do.” She wasn’t sure what it was about them. Something majestic and beautiful that had fascinated her since she was little. “I think they should’ve named the town Coyote Ridge. Makes more sense than Granite Creek.”
“You’re a weird girl, you know that?”
Feeling a tad defensive, Lorrie turned to face him. “I am not.”
Curtis was grinning again. “You’ve got a fire in you. I like that.”
For some reason, that made her blush, her face heating as she stared up at this boy who she didn’t like, but did. The same boy she knew so little about, but got the sense she shouldn’t be around him any more than she had to. He was, after all, a Walker.
The only problem now was that she suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere else.