The Bachelor's Homecoming. Karen Kirst

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СКАЧАТЬ with moist earth and magnolia blossoms evoked lifelong memories and an overwhelming sense of relief.

      They’d made it.

      Glancing over his shoulder at the slumbering child curled up between crates in the tightly packed wagon bed, he offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. Traveling alone with a five-year-old girl across four states had presented a myriad of dilemmas. By the grace of God, he’d dealt with each challenge and was now a couple of miles from the Leighton farm and the cabin he’d grown up in.

      Coming home to Gatlinburg hadn’t been the easiest decision. Folks would not have forgotten the reason he’d impulsively sold his barbershop and skipped town. Still, moving back here among friends that were like family had made the most sense now that he was officially Clara’s guardian.

      The familiar disappointment and anger knotting in his chest, thoughts of the difficult past year crowding in, he almost didn’t see the woman weaving through the dense trees to his right. A vision in pure white, waist-length hair flowing free, she walked with her head bent, oblivious to her surroundings.

      Guiding his team to a halt on the edge of the lane, Tom set the brake and simply watched her. Who was she? Why was she alone? Unwilling to leave without offering his assistance, he disembarked. He checked to make sure Clara hadn’t stirred before rounding the wagon and, not wanting to spook the stranger, took halting steps into the forest.

      The sun’s rays slanted through the leaves, and her hair came alive, a deep, glistening red. The air left his lungs. He knew of only two women in this town with hair that color. He’d been particularly fond of one of them.

      Intrigued and a little hopeful, Tom moved to intercept her. “Hello there.”

      Startled, she pulled up short, one hand flying up to clutch her throat. Her sweet countenance was the same and yet different. More mature. Womanly. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, her rosy mouth fuller. Her moss-green eyes reflected wisdom that hadn’t been present when he’d left.

      “Jane O’Malley.”

      Grinning, he closed the distance between them. She’d grown several inches, the top of her head coming even with his nose, and her gangly form had blossomed into that of a young woman—tall and graceful in her elegant, beaded white dress.

      Hold on...was that a wedding dress?

      “T-Tom?”

      Her cheeks, he noticed belatedly, were wet with tears, and her already pale countenance went whiter still. She swayed on her feet.

      He caught her against his chest, hands instinctively curving about her waist. Too late to worry about his gloves soiling the pristine material.

      The faint scent of lilac hit him. “Jane? What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

      Clutching his biceps, she blinked up at him. “I must be dreaming.”

      * * *

      The smooth voice like rich, warm cream belonged to Tom. And those vivid green eyes shining like stars against tanned skin? Tom’s.

      But it couldn’t be him. There was nothing left for him here. He’d sold his barbershop. His mother was dead. And the woman he’d adored—her older sister, Megan—was happily married to another man.

      “What’s happened?” He brought his face closer, a frown pulling his brows together.

      She studied that face, muscles locking up as she struggled to absorb the truth of what she was seeing—Tom Leighton...not a figment of her imagination...real flesh and bone.

      His pleasant, boyish features had thinned out, grown leaner, tougher, the angles of his face more pronounced and cheeks hollowed. His wavy, rich brown hair spilled onto his forehead and curled over his shirt collar. Longer and messier than before.

      Reaching up, she explored the scruff on his jaw with her fingertips. “You’re really here. I’d thought...”

      His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What are you doing out here all by yourself? Does your family know where you are?”

      Disappointment set in, followed by outrage. This was how he greeted her after all this time? No I’m sorry for worrying you, Jane. No you’re all grown-up and I can’t believe I ever left without saying goodbye.

      She pushed out of his arms.

      “I’m not a little girl anymore. I don’t need a keeper.”

      He frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

      “You’ve been gone two years, Tom. Two years without a word. No letters. No telegrams. Would it have killed you to tell me you were leaving?”

      A sigh gusted out of him. “I’m sorry about that.”

      “Didn’t they have paper and pencils where you were?”

      “I should’ve written. I see that now—”

      “You have no idea how many unfortunate scenarios I’ve entertained. Not knowing whether you were alive or dead...”

      An active imagination was both a blessing and a curse. Oftentimes the endless scenarios playing out in her head didn’t have happy endings. Countless nights she’d tossed in her bed, unable to sleep for worrying about him.

      Turning away, she swiped at the moisture on her cheeks and fought a fresh onslaught of emotion. She pulled at the dress’s itchy collar. Had her sister Nicole not known how uncomfortable this confection would be when she’d designed it? One last remaining purple blossom fell from her hair. She crushed the fragile petals beneath her heel. His inadequate words did nothing to ease her deep-seated hurt.

      For so long, she’d struggled to accept that she’d likely never see him again, never hear his warm laughter or gaze into those shining eyes. Tom represented all the heroes she’d ever read about. And while she knew he hadn’t viewed her as anything more than a little sister, she’d missed his friendship in the most dreadful way.

      His casual apology was more of an insult than anything.

      Tom touched the spot between her shoulder blades. Gentle. Imploring. “I truly regret causing you worry, Jane. I was in a bad place when I left.”

      He didn’t have to remind her. Her older sister Megan had rejected his proposal and chosen to marry Lucian Beaumont, a wealthy aristocrat from New Orleans who’d come to town for a brief visit and wound up falling for her. Megan’s choice had effectively ended her and Tom’s long-standing friendship.

      In their small mountain town, there’d been no escaping the gossip. His dreams had been crushed, his pride wounded. Crazily enough, Jane had hurt for him. She’d hurt because she knew how it felt to care and have no hope of those feelings being returned.

      “I suppose the main reason I didn’t contact anyone was because it was easier to sever all ties. I realize now how selfish that was.”

      When she didn’t comment, he audibly exhaled. “Have you come from a party?”

      “A wedding, actually.”

      Silence. Then a stunned, “You’re СКАЧАТЬ