Sugarplum Homecoming. Линда Гуднайт
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that?” Sydney asked from her spot half in and half out of what had once been the front parlor.
Across the street a man and two children stood in a neatly mowed yard watching them. Lana’s stomach dropped into her resoled cowboy boots. It couldn’t be. Surely not.
The thought had no more than crossed her mind than the sandy-brown haired man with the all-American good looks lifted a hand to wave and then started toward them. Two young children, close to Sydney’s age, skipped along as if on an adventure.
Lana froze, one hand on the doorknob and the other gripping Sydney’s as if Davis Turner would snatch her up and carry her away.
“Hello,” he said when he reached the end of the cracked sidewalk leading to the two-story.
Yep. He was Davis Turner all right. Mr. Clean-cut and Righteous. He’d been a year ahead of her in school. No one in Whisper Falls had a smile as wide, as easy and as bright as Davis.
Please God, don’t let him recognize me.
“Hi,” she said, not bothering to smile.
“You moving into the old Ross place?” Davis slipped his hands into the back pocket of his jeans, relaxed and easy in his skin. The man was much like the boy she remembered.
“We are.”
“Great.” He flashed that smile again. White straight teeth, easy, flexible skin that had weathered nicely, leaving happy spokes around grayish-blue eyes and along his cheeks. “The house has been empty a long time. Houses need people to keep them young and healthy.”
What an interesting thing to say. This house had never been healthy because of the people in it. “I suppose.”
“We live across the street in the beige brick with the black shutters. I’m Davis Turner and these are my munchkins, Paige and Nathan.”
Lana released a tiny inner sigh of relief. Davis didn’t recognize her, though sooner or later he’d discover he lived too close to the town bad girl. Would the people of Whisper Falls still remember? Did she dare hope that time had erased her teenage indiscretions from inquiring minds?
Not a chance.
“I’m ten. Well, almost,” the young girl at Davis’s side announced. “Nathan’s barely eight. I’m the oldest. What’s your name?”
“This is Sydney,” Lana said, purposely providing Sydney’s name instead of hers. She couldn’t avoid the introduction forever, but she wanted to buy some time before Davis’s bright smile withered and he turned on his heels, dragging his children in a rush to lock his doors and keep them away. “She’s also nine, just barely.”
Sydney hung back, aqua eyes cautious. She was too shy, too hesitant with others, something Lana hoped would disappear once they were settled. Her niece needed friends badly and Lana prayed her prior reputation in this close-knit mountain community wouldn’t interfere with Sydney’s happiness.
“Say hello, Sydney.”
Sydney ducked her head, displaying the precise part in her super curly brown hair. “Hello.”
“Are you gonna live here?” the little boy, Nathan asked.
“We are.”
“Just the two of you?” With the same blue-gray eyes, brown hair and square jaw of his father, Nathan was handsome. Unlike his father, he sported a dimple in one cheek.
“That’s the plan,” Lana answered.
“Are you married?”
Paige elbowed her brother. “Shh.”
“But Paige, we have to know,” Nathan protested. “She has brown hair!”
The adults exchanged glances and smiled. Davis appeared as clueless about the comment as Lana. What did her hair color have to do with anything, especially marriage?
Paige, an elfin beauty, simple and pure with pale brown freckles and ultrashort blond hair, attempted to explain. “What he means, ma’am, is that we’re glad to meet you and we’d like to get better acquainted. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
Davis turned his twinkly smile on Lana again, clearly amused by his children. “Always glad to welcome new neighbors. I didn’t get your name.”
The jig was up. She’d prayed to get settled before her tainted past charged in with all guns blazing. Apparently, God, Who’d brought her this far, expected her to face her fears head-on.
It was now or never. Either Davis remembered or he didn’t. Time to find out.
Chin up, eyes meeting his, she said, “I’m Lana Ross. You and I attended high school together.”
* * *
Davis blinked rapidly, off balance. This was Lana Ross? The wild child from high school? The girl with the bad attitude and potty mouth who was rumored to do about anything with anyone?
“I thought you looked familiar.” But different, too. The hard-eyed teenager who’d run off to seek fame and fortune in Nashville looked softer as an adult. Lana had always been pretty, but the softer look made her beautiful. Long, brown hair waving past her shoulders, dark mink eyebrows above clear eyes the color of the Tuscan blue tile he’d installed in a recent boutique remodel, cowboy boots over skinny jeans and an off-shoulder blouse on a petite form.
Pretty. Real pretty.
Davis was disturbed to feel a pull of interest.
Considering the welfare of his children, he wasn’t even sure he wanted Lana Ross for a neighbor. He certainly didn’t want to be attracted to her.
His conscience dinged, a sign the Lord was knocking on his door. Let you without sin cast the first stone.
Right. He agreed. He was no better than anyone else. But what about his kids? He was a firm believer in the old adage, “If you run with the wolves, you’ll begin to howl.” As a single father, he struggled to find exactly the right parenting balance, but he certainly didn’t intend to have howling children.
“Daddy.” Nathan tugged at his sleeve. “Can we go inside? Can we explore the haunted house?”
Lana arched an eyebrow at him. A little embarrassed, Davis said, “Sorry about that. You know how kids are. The house has been empty such a long time....”
“And it is spooky looking, Daddy,” Paige said, eyes widening. “I looked in the windows before and didn’t see no headless horsemen or creepy monsters, but Jaley says they only come out at night.”
Jaley was Paige’s best friend, a child with a vividly overactive imagination. He could, however, understand why the house had gained a reputation. Peeling paint, sagging doors and filthy dormer windows that looked out like empty eyes through faded black shutters were creepy enough, but the overgrown bushes and vines and the sheer loneliness lent an air of doom to the place. More than one shaky teenager had been caught climbing in through a window on a dare.
But Paige’s comments had scared Lana’s little girl. Small like Lana with kinky curly beige hair, Sydney had stiffened, growing paler with each spooky word. She clung to Lana as if she was now afraid to go inside the house.
Davis put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and squeezed, the signal he used in church to get her to stop talking. Paige hushed, shoulders slouching as her bottom lip protruded. She’d gotten the message.
“The house is not haunted,” he said firmly. “I told you that. Houses get lonely. All this one needs is a family.” And an enormous amount of work.
“Now it has one,” Lana declared, relief in her husky voice, though she tugged Sydney closer to her jean-clad thigh and soothed the child with a pat on the back.
“She’ll need some fixing up,” Davis said. “You know how some teenagers are when they know a house sets empty.”
He’d