CHAPTER 1
TEXAS IS THE ONLY STATE BIG ENOUGH TO HOLD your dreams. Someone had told Dr. Jane Dickinson that when she signed up for this gig. But whoever it was obviously hadn’t lived in Promise.
With medical-school bills the size of the national debt, signing a three-year agreement to practice medicine in the Texas hill country in exchange for partial payment had seemed the perfect solution. Whatever romanticizing she’d done when she’d first thought about making the move from urban California to the heart of rural America had faded with the reality of her situation. Texas had bugs practically as big as pit bulls and she’d always been somewhat phobic about insects, whether they were of the crawling or flying variety. More serious, more disturbing, was the fact that she simply didn’t fit in with this community. People were never less than polite, but they hadn’t accepted her. They came to her as a last resort—if they couldn’t cure whatever ailed them on their own—and then complained because she wasn’t Doc Cummings. Being fresh out of medical school, female and a good fifty years younger than the beloved practitioner hadn’t helped, either.
But although Jane was lonely and often at loose ends, she felt that she’d begun to make strides. Becoming friends with Dovie Boyd had a lot to do with that. The older woman owned an antique shop with the small Victorian Tea Room tucked in one corner, and she’d generously offered Jane not only friendship but advice. Life had taken a decided turn for the better since that first morning Jane had spoken to Dovie.
Her last scheduled patient for the day had left, and so had Jenny Bender, her receptionist. Jane sat at her desk, leaning comfortably back in her chair. The makeup she’d applied that morning had long since dissolved in sweat, and her feet ached. It’d been a busy day, which was a good sign. It meant that more people of Promise were coming to trust her skills.
Ellie Patterson was due to return from her honeymoon this week, too. Her second new friend was a local businesswoman. They’d recently met, thanks to Dovie. Jane liked Ellie’s no-nonsense approach to life, her quick wit and down-to-earth attitude. After having lunch together, Jane could tell they had the potential to become good friends. She hoped that was the case, because at this point she needed all the friends she could get.
A distinct noise in the outer office cut into her thoughts, and Jane stood up to investigate.
“Is someone here?” she called, walking out of her office.
Nothing.
“Hello,” she tried again, wondering if she was beginning to hear things.
“Dr. Jane?” A child’s voice came from the waiting room.
Jane found six-year-old Maggie Daniels standing just inside the clinic door. “Oh, hi, Maggie.”
The little girl’s pigtails fell forward as she lowered her head. “Hello.”
Maggie’s mother was Promise’s postmistress, and the post office was next door to the health clinic. She’d talked to Caroline Daniels a number of times and had heard just a day or two ago that Caroline and a local cattle rancher, Grady Weston, were now engaged.
“Where’s your mother?” Jane asked. It was unusual for Maggie to come to the clinic by herself.
“At work,” she answered, still keeping her head lowered. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her stomach.
Jane knelt down in front of her. “Are you feeling all right, Maggie?”
The little girl shook her head.
“Where do you feel sick?”
“My tummy.”
Jane brushed the hair from the child’s forehead and checked for fever. Maggie’s skin was cool to the touch. “Does your mommy know you’re here?”
Maggie’s head flew up, her eyes wide with alarm. “No! Please don’t tell her, okay?”
“But if she doesn’t know where you are, she might worry.”
“She said I could play while she finished work. Mrs. Murphy had to drop me off early today ’cause she had a dentist appointment.”
Jane assumed Mrs. Murphy baby-sat Maggie after school.
“Is something at school bothering you?” Jane guessed, thinking this stomachache might be linked to an incident there. School had been in session a little more than two weeks. That Maggie didn’t want her mother to know where she was aroused Jane’s suspicions. Perhaps Maggie had gotten into trouble with her teacher and was worried about what would happen when her mother found out. Either that, or she suffered doubts or fears regarding her mother’s recent engagement.
“I like school,” Maggie said, and her face brightened. “I’m in first grade this year.”
“But you’re not feeling well?”
The little girl shook her head, sending her pigtails swaying. “My tummy hurts.”
“Okay,” Jane said. “Maybe we’d better have a look.” She held out her hand to Maggie, who slipped her own small one into Jane’s.
“You won’t tell Mommy?” Maggie pleaded again.
“Not if you don’t want me to,” Jane said, although she wondered if it was wise to make such a promise. But it was clear the child was deeply upset about something. While Jane didn’t have a lot of training in pediatrics, she suspected that if she hadn’t reassured Maggie, the child would have bolted.
Playing the situation by ear, Jane led Maggie into the examination room and lifted her easily onto the table.
“Take off your backpack and I’ll listen to your tummy,” Jane instructed, picking up her stethoscope.
Slowly and with obvious reluctance Maggie did as she was asked, but when Jane went to move the backpack off the table, Maggie grabbed it back and clung to it. Jane realized immediately that whatever bothered the child was in that backpack.
“Is there something important in your bag?” Jane asked casually.
Maggie nodded. She tucked her chin tight against her chest. Finally, hesitantly, Maggie opened the zipper. Twice she paused and glanced up at Jane as if questioning the wisdom of continuing.
Jane allowed the girl to make the decision on her own. Apparently Maggie had decided to trust her, because once she had the bag completely open, she withdrew an old dilapidated-looking doll. It was either a replica of an antique or the genuine thing, although that didn’t seem likely. Either way, the doll had seen better days. It was falling apart. The face appeared hand-stitched, the once red lips faded to a pale pink. The muslin dress had probably been white but was now a washed-out shade of yellow. The dull calico apron had frayed edges. Despite its condition, the doll had a certain appeal. At one time it must have been the much-loved toy of some young girl.
“I want you to keep it,” Maggie said in a small tense voice as she held out the doll.
“But I couldn’t do that,” Jane protested.
“Please…” Big tears welled in Maggie’s dark eyes. “I took it…” She clutched her stomach with both arms. “I’m sorry for taking her away from—” She stopped and her lower lip started to wobble, but she quickly pulled her emotions together.
“Can’t you take it back to the person it belongs to?” Jane asked.
Maggie shook her head vigorously, the pigtails whipping about her face.
Jane frowned. “So you want me to keep her for you?”
Maggie nodded.
Perhaps that was the best solution. Again Jane followed her instincts, which told her that pressing Maggie to tell her anything more was a mistake. The little girl clearly regretted having taken the doll and wasn’t sure how to handle the situation now.
“All right. I’ll do that.” She could display the old doll in her office in the hope that whoever owned it would come to her and ask. That would save Maggie the embarrassment of having to return it.
“I promise to take good care of your friend,” Jane said solemnly. She helped Maggie down from the table. “Come on, let’s find a new home for your doll.” Perhaps later Jane could make a few discreet inquiries. Dovie might know something or have a suggestion, since she owned an antique shop—although the older woman seemed unusually distracted at the moment. Jane assumed it had something to do with Frank Hennessey, the local sheriff, who’d been Dovie’s longtime male friend. Apparently they’d had some kind of argument and were no longer seeing each other.
Maggie slipped her hand into Jane’s as they walked into the small office once occupied by Doc Cummings. The most logical place to set the doll was on the bookshelf, which looked out into the hallway. Anyone passing by was sure to see it.
Carefully Jane put the toy on the top shelf. “Okay,” she said and took a step back. “What do you think?”
The youngster smiled and released a great sigh. “My tummy doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“That’s wonderful.” A miracle cure, Jane mused; she must be a better doctor than she’d imagined. “If you want to come and visit your friend, you’re welcome to do that any time,” Jane told her.
Maggie shook her head, then whirled around. “Mommy’s calling,” she said. Racing down the hallway, she grabbed her backpack from the examination table and flew toward the waiting room. She paused abruptly and looked back. “Thank you, Dr. Jane.”
“You’re welcome,” Jane said with a smile.
Then Maggie disappeared out the door.
If only dealing with her other patients was this easy.
* * *
Dovie Boyd was miserable. She wandered between the lush rows of her garden, picking ripe tomatoes from her heavily laden plants. Her only consolation was that Frank Hennessey probably felt even worse than she did. For ten years they’d been friends. More than friends. During those years they’d talked frequently of marriage—with Dovie generally bringing up the subject. Frank had been a bachelor all his life; Dovie understood that marriage would be a big change for him and had been patient. No, she thought now, she’d been stupid. Although she loved Frank, she’d never been completely comfortable with their arrangement. He knew that, which must be why he’d made promises he didn’t intend to keep. When she pressured him about it after Ellie Frasier and Glen Patterson’s wedding, he owned up to the fact that he simply couldn’t marry her. He loved her, he claimed, but he wasn’t the marrying kind. He just couldn’t do it.
The truth had been painful, but she’d lived long enough to recognize something else. Either she accepted Frank and their relationship the way it was or she broke it off.
She broke it off. Not that it was an easy decision. She missed him. Missed their afternoon chats over coffee, missed their romantic dinners and sitting on the porch gazing at the stars, sipping a nice glass of East Texas wine. She missed cuddling up with him at night, too. For the better part of nine years Frank had spent two nights a week with her.
Her twenty-five-year marriage to Marvin had been a good one, although to her regret they’d remained childless. She’d loved her husband and grieved deeply for him when he died.
That was thirteen years ago. She’d still been young enough then to want a man in her life—was young enough still! Frank had courted her for two years before they’d become lovers. She would never have believed she’d allow a man into her bed without the benefit of a wedding band. But she had, trusting with all her heart that Frank would one day marry her. In retrospect she wondered how she could have let the arrangement continue this long.
In other years Dovie would pick two or three large green tomatoes for Frank; this year she left them to ripen on the vine. There wouldn’t be any fried green tomatoes for Frank Hennessey. The thought saddened her, reminding her that there was a gap in her life, that she’d lost an important person. But this break, no matter how painful, was necessary, she told herself.
Just then Frank’s patrol car rounded the corner and Dovie’s heart accelerated. Although tempted, she looked away, pretending not to notice.
“Hello, Dovie,” he called softly.
She glanced in his direction. He’d come to a stop and rolled down the car window.
“How are you?” he asked in that sweet seductive way he had. He’d always used that tone when he wanted Dovie to know how much he loved her.
Slowly she turned to look at him. “Very well. Thank you for asking,” she said, then continued down the row, picking tomatoes. No sooner had the words left her lips when she heard his car door slam. It demanded an effort of will not to get up and move toward him. She fought a desperate urge to stare at him, to indulge her heart and her eyes. Frank was a fine-looking man even now as he neared retirement age. He’d maintained a trim physique and most people wouldn’t guess he was sixty.
“Seems your garden has a lot of tomatoes this year,” he commented. He remained on the sidewalk, following her from the opposite side of the picket fence.
“Seems that way,” she said after a moment, wondering at the wisdom of allowing this conversation. All it did was remind her how unhappy she was without Frank, how much she missed him. From the glances he sent her, she knew he missed her, too. She also knew he was trying to wear down her resolve.
“How’ve you been?” Frank pressed when she didn’t elaborate on the abundance of her garden.
“Wonderful.” She prayed God would forgive her the lie.
“I’m afraid I can’t say the same. I miss you, Dovie. Nothing seems right without you.”
Nothing seemed right for her, either, but she wasn’t about to admit it. What made this breakup so difficult was that she loved Frank. Despite that, she couldn’t go on with their arrangement. It wasn’t the life she wanted. She craved what most women of her generation did—and maybe most women, period. Commitment, emotional security, an open acknowledgment of love.
“I miss you, sweetheart,” he said again in a soft sad voice.
“Then marry me, Frank.”
His eyes narrowed. “We’ve been through this a hundred times. Dovie, you know how I feel about you. I’d give my life for you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If I were to marry anyone, it’d be you, but I can’t, Dovie, I just can’t.”
It hurt to hear the words, but she was glad he’d said them because this forced her to remember that nothing would ever change between them.
“I love you, Dovie! I’m doing my damnedest to understand why everything’s different and all because I told you the truth. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t admitted I couldn’t go through with marriage.”
“We’ve already said everything that needs to be said,” she told him, shifting the weight of the basket from one arm to the other.
“Let me help you with that,” Frank offered. “That’s much too heavy for you.”
He was halfway to the gate before she stopped him. “I can manage on my own.”
He gripped two pickets so tightly that his knuckles whitened. His blue eyes implored her. “Dovie, please.”
Already she could feel herself weakening, and she forced herself to be strong. It’d been less than two weeks. Sooner or later Frank would understand. This wasn’t a game, or an ultimatum or an attempt to manipulate him. They just saw things differently; it was as simple as that. He’d made his decision and she’d made hers. He would simply have to accept that she wasn’t giving in or changing her mind.
“I need to go inside. Good seeing you again, Frank. I hope you have a pleasant evening.” Then she headed toward the house and didn’t look back.
After setting the tomatoes by the sink, Dovie reached for her phone and punched in her best friend’s number.
Mary Patterson operated the local bed-and-breakfast with her husband, Phil, and the couple had been friends of Dovie’s for years. Although Dovie was well aware that others knew of her arrangement with Frank, the only person she’d actually confided in was Mary.
“Frank was just here,” Dovie announced when Mary answered the phone. Her hand clenched the receiver and she closed her eyes, distressed by the brief confrontation. It had left her feeling weak and light-headed.
“What did he say?” Mary asked.
“That he misses me and wishes things could go back the way they were before.”
“You refused to listen, right?”
“Right,” Dovie answered.
“Good!” Mary said with conviction. “That’s exactly what you should do.”
Her support was something Dovie badly needed just then. “He said he’s miserable.”
“As well he ought to be!”
“I am, too, but I suppose I’m more determined than I am miserable.”
“Oh, Dovie.” Mary’s voice was full of sympathy. “I know how hard this is on you. But Frank’s strung you along all these years, promising to marry you, and then he decides he can’t go through with it. You should sue him for breach of promise.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know.”
“It’s just that I feel so alone,” Dovie confessed. “In some ways this is as difficult as when Marvin died.”
“This is a death,” Mary said compassionately. “The death of a relationship.”
Her friend was right, Dovie realized sadly. She’d been able to bury her husband, lay him and their lives together to rest. She’d taken the time she needed to heal, the time she’d needed to grieve, and then when the worst of the pain was over, she’d opened her antique shop. Starting the business had helped her get through the first lonely year. What she needed now, Dovie decided, was a diversion, something that would see her through the long difficult weeks ahead.
“I’m thinking of traveling,” Dovie announced, although the thought had only just come to her.
“Traveling?” Mary echoed. “Where?”
“I’m not sure—possibly Europe. I’ve heard about the wonderful antiques you can get there. I’ll make it a buying trip,” she said, warming to the idea. Not only would it be her first trip abroad, she’d be able to write it off as a tax deduction.
“When?” Mary asked.
“I…I’m not sure yet, but I’ll talk to Gayla Perkins at Adventure Travel in the morning.”
“Dovie…” For the first time Mary hesitated. “This sounds drastic.”
“I need to do something different,” Dovie said. “Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll give in to Frank.”
“Will you travel alone?” Mary asked.
Dovie hadn’t gotten that far in her planning. “It looks like I’ll have to.”
“Take a cruise, then,” Mary advised.
“A cruise?” Dovie hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know…”
“You might meet someone.” Mary’s voice rose with enthusiasm. “They have short ones, three and four days. I understand the prices are reasonable and there’s plenty of single men.”
Dovie didn’t want any other man in her life.
“A cruise would be perfect for you,” Mary went on. “I read not long ago about certain cruises that specialize in matching up singles. That’d be ideal.”
“Oh, Mary, I don’t know…”
“What’s not to know? You want to travel, and if that’s the case, then do it in style.”
“A cruise,” Dovie said slowly, letting the idea grow more familiar.
“Not just an ordinary cruise,” Mary corrected, “but a short one especially for singles. Can you imagine how Frank’s going to feel when he hears about that?”
Dovie figured she had no business caring about Frank’s feelings one way or the other, but she did. A dozen times a day she had to remind herself that Frank Hennessey was no longer part of her life. They were no longer a couple. She had her own life to live, and the time had come for her to explore other possibilities. Yes, a singles cruise could be just the thing.
“I’ll do it,” Dovie said. “First thing tomorrow. I’ll call Adventure Travel.”
“You won’t be sorry,” her friend assured her.
Dovie had a strong feeling Mary was right.
* * *
THE ALARM WOKE Cal Patterson at the usual hour. He rolled out of bed and stretched his arms high above his head, yawning loudly. On his way into the bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror and stopped to stare at himself. Hmm. Not much to look at. He wondered at this sudden need to examine his features. Probably had to do with Glen and Ellie getting married, he decided.
He’d grown pensive since the wedding. He’d found himself entertaining a number of intriguing notions after Ellie and his brother had left on their honeymoon. Like the fact that he missed Glen. Really missed him.
Glen. Married.
Even after the wedding, it still didn’t seem possible. They were brothers and partners in the Lonesome Coyote Ranch. Both had been born here, and as far as Cal was concerned he’d die here, too. The ranch was his life, his blood, his soul.
Glen was like him, a rancher at heart. Their ancestors had settled in Texas a century and a half before, and the family had been ranching one spread or another ever since. When the time was right, Cal suspected Glen would buy his own ranch, one closer to town since Ellie would need to travel in every day.
Cal had finished dressing when he heard a door close downstairs.
“Don’t tell me you’re still sleeping?” a voice called up. “What the hell kind of ranch are you running here?”
Glen? His brother was supposed to be on his honeymoon! Cal started down the stairs. “What are you doing here?” Cal shouted.
“I go away for a few days and this whole place goes to hell in a handbasket.”
Cal reached the bottom of the stairs, and the two brothers stared at each other. It’d barely been ten days since the wedding and yet it felt as if they’d been apart for ten years. They hugged with the fierce love of brothers who were also close friends.
“How was the Gulf?” Cal asked, breaking away and moving toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
“Terrific,” Glen said, “although Ellie and I didn’t get outside much.”
Cal hadn’t expected that they would, seeing as this was their honeymoon. “I didn’t think you were due back for a couple of days yet.”
“We weren’t, but you know Ellie. She was worried about the feed store.”
“And you were worried about the ranch.”
Glen rubbed the side of his jaw. “Not…worried, exactly.”
The two laughed and Cal grabbed a couple of mugs. “So, is married life everything you hoped for?”
“More,” Glen said wistfully. “I knew I loved Ellie,” he continued, his voice thoughtful, “but I didn’t realize exactly how much until this past week. I feel like I’m the luckiest man alive. Hey, Cal? You might want to think about making the leap one day yourself.”
Cal let the comment slide and poured them each a cup of coffee. He handed one to his brother. “Ellie is special,” he said.
Glen sugared his coffee, and they talked business for the next forty minutes, then headed to the barn for the start of their day.
By the afternoon it was difficult for Cal to remember that Glen had ever been away. They’d worked together for so many years they didn’t require words to communicate. As soon as they’d finished delousing the calves, Glen made a beeline for the barn and his favorite gelding, Moonshine. He groomed the big bay, then washed up. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said on his way out of the barn.
Cal grinned to himself at his brother’s eagerness to hurry home to his bride. “Sure thing,” he said, waving him off. Although Glen had spent most of his free time with Ellie before they got married, she’d often driven out to the ranch. Cal had enjoyed watching their exchanges, and he’d especially relished being the beneficiary of Ellie’s delicious homemade dinners. She’d taken a few cooking lessons from Dovie, mostly in preparing basic meals, the kind Cal liked. Well, she could practice on him as often as she wanted. He wasn’t much of a cook himself, but managed to fry up a decent steak every so often.
“Damn, I almost forgot,” Glen said halfway out the barn door. “Ellie wanted me to ask if you had plans Friday night.”
“Plans?”
“For dinner,” Glen answered as if that should be obvious.
“I don’t have anything special going,” he said. Already his mind was full of the meals she’d served in the weeks leading up to the wedding. Memories of her roast chicken and garlic mashed potatoes made his mouth water. “If she’s thinking of inviting me over, you tell her I accept.”
Glen looked surprised. “You sure about this?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Well…” Glen’s mouth widened in a grin and he slowly shook his head. “No reason. I’ll tell Ellie to count on you for Friday night.”
“You do that.”
Cal walked his brother out. He stood there for a moment, watching the dust plume as Glen’s truck barreled out of the yard and down the long driveway. Not for the first time in the past ten days Cal wondered what his own life would be like now if he’d married Jennifer Healy.
Two years earlier Cal had been engaged. But less than forty-eight hours before the wedding Jennifer had changed her mind and abruptly left town. She’d given him no explanation.
But Cal knew why she’d done it. She’d wanted him to be something he never could.
He’d loved her, or had convinced himself he did. But she’d had other plans for him, plans she didn’t divulge until the wedding arrangements were made. Jennifer seemed to believe that once they were husband and wife, she’d be able to convince him to sell his half of the ranch to Glen. Her scheme included moving him to San Antonio or Houston. Even now, two years later, Cal couldn’t imagine himself living in big-city America. It shocked him that a woman he loved, the woman he’d intended to marry, didn’t understand that a city the size of Houston would slowly kill him. He was a country boy, through and through.
When he’d adamantly refused to give in to her demands, Jennifer had walked out, leaving him to deal with the embarrassment of canceling the wedding at the last minute. And yet—perhaps it was ego, he didn’t know—he had the distinct feeling that if he’d asked, she might have stayed.
But he hadn’t asked, hadn’t believed the relationship was worth saving. Her preference for leaving the ranch, leaving Promise, would have always been an issue between them. She would have held his decision against him and they’d have argued about it again and again. So he’d let her go. He realized in that moment that he’d given his heart to a woman who would have abused his love.
After Jennifer left, his attitude toward women had undergone a swift change. He found them untrustworthy and deceptive. Glen and others had tried to convince him that not all women were like Jennifer. Deep down Cal believed that, but he wasn’t willing to give anyone that kind of power over him a second time. He’d learned his lesson well.
His new sister-in-law was an exception. He’d always been fond of Ellie and was understandably proud that he was the one to figure out how Glen and Ellie felt about each other long before either of them had a clue. Actually, considering how anti-romance he’d become, that was little short of amazing.
Ellie was a sweetheart and Glen was a lucky man. His sister-in-law was an idealist, though. She firmly believed in the power of love. While that might prove true for others, it hadn’t for him.
Cal never intended to marry. He was thirty-six and set in his ways. His life was full and he didn’t have room in it for a relationship; he’d made damn sure of that. Whenever he was tempted to let his guard down and fraternize with the enemy, something would happen to remind him that women weren’t to be trusted.
Given time, he thought cynically, ninety-nine percent of the female population would turn on a man. He’d seen it happen. Well, maybe not in Promise—not often, anyway. He could actually think of a few success stories. Glen, of course. His parents. Savannah Weston and Laredo Smith. And now his best friend, Grady Weston, was engaged to Caroline Daniels; he supposed their marriage stood a chance if anyone’s did. But he was still convinced he was right. Anyway, Texas men weren’t prone to “sharing their pain.” You wouldn’t find a cowboy crying his eyes out on some talk show about a woman who’d done him wrong. In Texas men sat around and drowned their sorrows in beer. If they mentioned their troubles, it was in words no television channel could air. And ten to one, if a man had problems, there was a woman involved.
Cal headed back to the house. He’d grab something easy for dinner and then tackle some paperwork. Come Friday, Ellie would be cooking up something memorable.
He paused in his tracks as he recalled that sly smile of Glen’s when he’d asked about Ellie’s cooking.
Then it hit him like the proverbial bolt of lightning. Ellie had invited him all right, but no one had said anything about her doing any cooking. His brand-new sister-in-law intended to set him up with one of her girlfriends. She was fixing to play matchmaker.
It’d be a cold day in hell before Cal would sit still for that.