Hometown Girl Page 3

  Chapter Thirty-Six Beth had been sitting in the kitchen when she saw the squad car pull in. She imagined Molly had hitched a ride out to the farm, but when Bishop got out of the car alone, she realized this wasn’t a social call. She met him on the porch, noticing the manila envelope in his hand. “What’s wrong? You look freaked out.” Beth moved aside so he could come in. “Remember how there was a witness to Jess’s kidnapping?” He knew about Drew. Beth took a deep breath. “I already know, Bishop.” “And you didn’t tell me?” “I’ve been a little busy with a tornado and the crushing of my dreams.” She sat down at the table. “Well, now you just sound like your sister.” Beth rolled her eyes. “What is there to tell? He witnessed something terrible twenty years ago. He was a kid.” “So why’s he here now?” Beth had wanted that question answered so many times, but this time, she chose to trust. “I don’t know yet.” “I think I might.” Bishop was paid to be suspicious. “He was at the station the day o

  Chapter Thirty-Seven “Was his face long or round?” Drew squinted. “Round. Pudgy. And he had freckles across the top of his nose and cheeks.” Beth sketched, feeling rusty. “I feel like someone else would be better at this.” “It doesn’t have to be perfect, remember?” But it felt like it did. There was so much riding on this. She listened closely as he told her what he remembered. Every once in a while, he’d get quiet, lost in a memory. She’d wait patiently for him to continue, praying this brought him the closure he needed. “Have you ever told anyone about any of this?” She kept her gaze on the sketch pad as she shaded the man’s left eyebrow. “No.” The one word said so much. He’d bottled it up all these years, but he’d trusted her enough to break his silence. “I’m glad you told me.” “I am too.” She prayed he saw that self-preservation, not cowardice, had driven him to bury these memories. That lie he’d believed had robbed him of years of living. Beth stopped shading the face of a pudgy m

  Chapter Thirty-Eight Birdie’s words hung in the air. Beth paced the kitchen floor, feeling like they had to piece together puzzles from two separate boxes. She recounted her conversations with Davis to Bishop, who scribbled notes in a little black notebook he pulled from his back pocket. Molly showed up at the door, confusion all over her pale face. “Bishop said you were all out here. Why didn’t you call me sooner? Was there a break in the case?” Beth ignored her. Not the time to be dramatic. “Why are we just standing around?” Drew paced the same six feet of the white linoleum, his brow knit. “I want to have all the facts so we don’t barge in half-cocked,” Bishop said. “Molly, I need you to tell me everything that happened the day Davis Biddle’s assistant gave you that business card.” Molly went over it again. “He obviously wants this property for something,” Beth said. “He’s gone to a lot of trouble to make that clear.” He’d made offers before and after the storm. Good offers that any

  Chapter Thirty-Nine Beth called Davis and asked to see him right away. She explained that they were desperate and had made a decision, but they had a few questions before they could finalize the deal. As expected, he invited her right over. She and Drew arrived ten minutes later, with the understanding that Bishop would come after twenty minutes. Knowing Molly, she’d likely sneak into the back seat of the squad car when he wasn’t looking—to her, this was all terribly exciting. To Beth, it was nauseating. Her stomach rolled as Drew shut off the truck’s engine. “You okay?” he asked. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Long as you’re okay.” “What if Monty was a tool his father used?” Beth asked before they got out of the truck. “What if Monty delivered Jess to his father?” Drew looked away. Thinking about it had to hurt. Walking in there, asking questions—all of it would hurt. She hated that he had to go through this. They walked to the door, which opened before th

  Chapter Forty Drew stood in the driveway of the Biddle estate, watching as officers led Davis and Monty to squad cars whose lights shined flashes of red out into the darkness. He was weary and worn, and Beth was at his side, where she’d been the entire night. She wound her arms around his waist and let her head fall to his chest. “It’s over.” He liked the way she fit perfectly in his arms, as if they’d been made to go together. Could he ever let her in the way he wanted to? He kissed her forehead, and she lifted her chin, found his eyes. “What is it?” He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised she could sense that he was still unsettled. He loved her for that. He loved that he wanted to tell her instead of burying his feelings, giving them the ability to haunt him later. “All this time, I knew Jess was gone,” Drew said. “I guess I just expected to keep on hating the man who killed her. But now that I know who he is—I sort of feel sorry for him.” Beth leaned into him and wrapped her arms mor

  Chapter Forty-One Two Fridays later, the day before the Fairwind Farm Market, Beth awoke early. Her nerves kicked up when she realized the weight of what lay in front of her. Today would not be like every other Friday. This weekend would not be like every other weekend. Special moments deserved to be amplified, so Beth made a conscious effort to do that. Every day that week, members of the Willow Grove community had joined them on the farm, rebuilding what the storm had stolen and helping them set up for the sale. She’d been woefully absent from the preparations, deciding instead to focus her attention on something possibly even more important than saving their dreams for Fairwind Farm. Still, sacrifices were being made on their behalf—the weight of that didn’t escape her. She’d become a part of this community, not because she was a disappointment who had no other option, but because she loved it here. This was exactly where she belonged. Now, she walked practically on tiptoes, careful

  AUTHOR’S NOTE Dear Reader, I love writing stories. I love everything about it except the parts where I get stuck. I love dreaming up names for people who will become so real to me in my own mind, I almost forget they don’t live next door. I love creating a new town and filling it with people, and I especially love pulling in elements from my own life along the way. I first had the idea for Hometown Girl when I was visiting an apple orchard about an hour from my hometown in Illinois. I’m a Midwest girl through and through, and apple orchards are a staple in my world. Every fall, we make at least one trip to the orchard for cider and apples and our favorite, apple-cider donuts. If you’ve never been to an orchard, you may not be able to fully appreciate the ridiculously delicious taste (and smell) of an apple-cider donut, but truly, there is nothing like it. And if you can get it warm and fresh—well, you might as well just freeze time right there. I loved the idea of exploring family rela

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS It’s with the utmost gratitude I offer thanks . . . To my sweet family, who cheer me on, celebrate my successes and don’t complain too much when I announce it’s “fend-for-yourself night” for dinner. Again. To Adam, you are everything. It’s your creativity that inspires me, your encouragement that pushes me forward and your kindness that makes me better in every way. Thank you for loving me. To my kids, Sophia, Ethan and Sam. I just love you all with every fiber of my being. And I’m so thankful I get to be your mom. To my parents, Bob and Cindy Fassler, who still pray for me and who have always taught me so well. To my sister, Carrie Erikson, who helps me learn more about Jesus just by living her life. I’m so grateful for the uncontrollable belly laughs (you are the loudest!), the violent sneezes, the encouragement and the wisdom you share with me. I am grateful to have you for a best friend. To the Emenecker family: Trent, Natalie, Alex, Addison, JT and Tyler, for answe

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Courtney Walsh is a novelist, artist, theatre director, and playwright. Hometown Girl is her seventh novel. Her debut novel, A Sweethaven Summer, was a Carol Award finalist in the debut author category. She has written two additional books and a novella in the Sweethaven series, as well as three small-town romance novels: Paper Hearts, Change of Heart, and Just Look Up. She lives in Illinois, where she and her husband own a performing arts studio and youth theatre. They have three children. Visit her online at
www.courtneywalshwrites.com.

  PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR

  “Walsh has penned another endearing novel set in Loves Park, Colo. The emotions are occasionally raw, but always truly real. Readers will root for the characters to discover their potential and realize that love is right in front of them. It takes a little long to get to the point, but the journey is enjoyable.”

  —RT Reviews, ****

  “Walsh (A Sweethaven Summer) pens a quaint, smalltown love story, complete with an overbearing mother, an unscrupulous business partner, and a group of busybodies whose hearts are in the right place even if their actions are questionable. While certain elements are predictable, Walsh develops enough plot twists to make this enjoyable to the end.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Heartwarming! Paper Hearts is as much a treat as the delicious coffee the heroine serves in her bookshop. Courtney Walsh’s warm author’s voice tells a story of a doctor and a bookstore owner, both living in a town centered on romance, yet both disillusioned by love. Like the matchmakers that surrounded the couple in the novel, I couldn’t help cheering them on. A poignant, wry, sweet, and utterly charming read!”

  —Becky Wade, award-winning author of Meant to Be Mine

  “Delightfully romantic with a lovable cast of quirky characters, Paper Hearts will have readers smiling from ear-to-ear! Courtney Walsh has penned a winner!”

  —Katie Ganshert, award-winning author of A Broken Kind of Beautiful

  “Walsh’s touching debut will have readers longing for a visit to the idyllic vista of Sweethaven, Michigan. The touch of mystery, significant friendships and a charming setting create a real treasure.”

  —Romantic Times, ****

  “This book captivated me from the first paragraphs. Bittersweet memories, long-kept secrets, the timeless friendships of women—and a touch of sweet romance. Beautifully written and peopled with characters who became my friends, this debut novel is one for my keeper shelf—and, I hope, the first of many to come from Courtney Walsh’s pen.”

  —Deborah Raney, award-winning author of the Chicory Inn series and A Vow to Cherish

  “Courtney Walsh puts the sweet in Sweethaven. If you’re looking for an uplifting, hope-filled story filled with characters you’ll feel like you know, A Sweethaven Homecoming has it!”

  —Marybeth Whalen, author of The Mailbox and The Things We Wish Were True

  ALSO BY COURTNEY WALSH

  Just Look Up

  Paper Hearts

  Change of Heart

  A Sweethaven Summer

  A Sweethaven Homecoming

  A Sweethaven Christmas

  A Sweethaven Romance

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2017 by Courtney Walsh

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Waterfall Press, Grand Haven, MI.

  www.brilliancepublishing.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Waterfall Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542045636

  ISBN-10: 1542045630

  Cover design by Janet Perr

  For my dear friend Natalie Emenecker, with whom I share a love of Jesus, kids, theatre and romance. And who was gracious enough to share the name of her family farm for my fictional purposes in writing this book. Your real-life Fairwind Farm is full of the peace and simplicity this old soul needs.

  Thank you for sharing it with me and for being my friend.

  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

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Beth Whitaker hated flowers.

  Sure, they were pretty, and some of them even smelled good. The right assortment could dress up a dinner table, and she could appreciate how each one was different. But flowers were a sign of weakness.

  And death.

  People brought flowers to gravesites and hospital rooms. One of her earliest memories was being pulled out of kindergarten to attend her great-grandmother’s funeral. She didn’t remember the way Grandma had looked in the casket or who else had been there, but she distinctly remembered the smell of the flowers.

  It was the same smell that had filled Mom’s hospital room ten months ago. Floral sympathy left as sour a taste in her mouth as floral courtship. Pining over some man, waiting for him to bring flowers for no reason.

  Weakness.

  Now Beth sat in the small exam room, waiting for Dr. Berry to check on her mother. The checkup they’d been waiting for, the one that told them her mom had recovered from her stroke.

  But Beth knew better. After all, she was the one taking care of her mom on a daily basis.

  “Would you stop doing that?” Her mother’s brows matched her mouth, turned down like blankets in a fancy hotel.

  “What am I doing?” Beth’s own wrung-out hands drew her attention to her lap. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

  Her mom waved her off. “I’m fine. I feel great.”

  “I just hope it’s not the calm before another storm.”

  “You are so negative, Beth,” her mother groaned. “Is this how I raised you?”

  Beth shot her a look. It was, in fact, exactly how she’d raised her. The difference was that her mom’s near-death experience had given the elder Whitaker a new, cheery outlook on life. One she flaunted like a child wearing a new dress.

  “You’ve gotta realize one of these days that life is short. It’s time you get back to your own life and let me worry about mine.”

  Beth stood. “What is taking so long?”

  Despite her mother’s protests, Beth opened the door and started down the hall—more to get away from her mother’s lecture than to search for Dr. Berry. The nurses’ station around the corner might provide an escape, or at least some answers as to what was holding up the good doctor.

  But when she reached the end of the hallway and overheard someone say her name, Beth stopped.

  “I guess Miss Most Likely to Succeed is just a commoner like the rest of us,” a woman’s voice mocked. “Didn’t she always talk about getting out of this dead-end town?”

  “Tandy, stop. Her mom had a stroke.”

  “Ten months ago. She had plenty of time to get out of here
before that. Years, in fact.”

  From where she stood, Beth heard papers rustling and fingers clicking on a keyboard.

  “Give her a break,” the other woman said.

  “Sorry. I just can’t stand these rich girls who think they’re better than everyone else.”

  “It’s not like everything’s come easy to her, Tandy. She’s had a rough few years.”

  There was a pause then—for effect? An eye roll? Beth could only imagine.

  “If you’re talking about Michael, she should’ve known.”

  Beth tensed at the mention of his name.

  “I mean, everyone else did.”

  “I think it’s sad,” the other nurse said. “If the homecoming king and queen don’t stay together after high school, what chance do the rest of us have?”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not?”

  “You voted them Cutest Couple, didn’t you?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Why are we still talking about high school, Tandy? The rest of us have moved on, including Beth Whitaker.”

  “Yeah, she moved straight out of her college dorm and into her parents’ house. Guess the black hole of Willow Grove sucked her back in with the rest of us.”

  The nurses laughed. Hometown girls, no doubt—the kind who’d always wanted out of Willow Grove but never left.

  Who was she kidding? She’d just described herself. She wasn’t supposed to still be here. That was never the plan.

  “Just a temporary gig,” her father had told her when he’d hired her at his company. “You’re different, Beth. You can get out of here and do so much more with your life.”

  The job at Whitaker Mowers turned out not to be a temporary gig. And she’d turned out to be a major disappointment. When she thought of how much she had cost him, her stomach tied itself into a thick knot.

  “Beth?”

  One of the nurses—Jillian, her name tag said—had turned the corner and now stood in front of her, and Beth felt weak and helpless all over again. It was getting old. She wasn’t the kind of person who should feel this way.