MILLS & BOON

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      SHARON SALA

      is a child of the country. As a farmer’s daughter, she found her vivid imagination made solitude a thing to cherish. During her adult life, she learned to survive by taking things one day at a time. An inveterate dreamer, she yearned to share the stories her imagination created. For Sharon, her dreams have come true, and she claims one of her greatest joys is when her stories become tools for healing.

      Chris and Mabel Shero were my maternal grandparents, but all of their grandchildren called them Grampy and Grand. They were two of the kindest and most caring people I ever knew, and they adored each other. Every time I think of soul mates, I think of them.

      Grand was always full of quotes and sayings, so besides teaching me how to bake bread, she was constantly filling my head with things she thought I needed to know. One of the earliest homilies that I can remember was her quoting, “Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” Of course I wanted an explanation, and in her most forthright manner, she pared that down to fit my limited vocabulary by telling me that lies grow faster than weeds and are harder to get rid of. Since one of my chores was weeding our vegetable garden, I immediately understood.

      So, because this story starts with the telling of a lie, I thought it fitting to give credit to two of the people who taught me the meaning of truth.

      To Christopher and Mabel Shero.

       Always my touchstones.

       Forever my loves.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Epilogue

      One

      The back alley between Fourth Street and Beauregard Boulevard was not the best place in Tulip, Georgia to break down, but worn u-joints were not a model of consideration. And, considering the fact that it was nearly sundown and the only thing stirring in Tulip at this time of evening was air, Tyler Savage was in a bit of a fix.

      He lay flat on his back beneath his pickup truck, cursing the fading light and his bad luck all in the same disgusted breath. And, because he was so focused on finding and stopping the flow of oil dripping from somewhere up above his head, he didn’t hear the sound of running footsteps coming down the alley until they were almost upon him.

      Instinctively, he turned to look and got a fairly good view of a woman running down the alley. From where he was lying, he couldn’t see much above her neck, but he got a real good look at the gray sweatsuit she was wearing. It was nondescript, but that was where ordinary ended. She had exceedingly long legs, a trim figure and a bosom that was bouncing enticingly as she ran.

      Out of appreciation…and partly out of habit…he whistled and then grinned when she broke her stride. But before he could drag himself out from beneath the truck and procure an introduction, a large dollop of oil took the opportunity to fall. It landed directly on the bridge of Tyler’s nose before splattering equally in both directions and blinding him to everything but the quick sting of oil filming across his vision.

      “Son of a…”

      He grabbed for a rag, but not in time to stop the damage. With another muttered curse, he came out from under the truck, wiping at his eyes with the rag and both hands. By the time he could see, she was nowhere in sight. In disgust, he kicked a rear tire with the toe of his boot and started walking in the direction of Raymond Earl Showalter’s house. Raymond Earl owned the only garage in town and, in his single days, had been a good running buddy of Tyler’s.