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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Synopsis

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Other Books by Gerri Hill

  About the Author

  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

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Bella Books

  Synopsis

  Grieving over the loss of her family and feeling like her life is unraveling, Lindsey McDermott quits her job, gets a puppy, and retreats to her grandparents’ home in the Texas Hill Country. She spends her solitary days walking childhood trails and reminiscing, trying to reconcile the conflict within her as she struggles with survivor’s guilt.

  After the death of her husband, Hannah Larson needs a change. At the suggestion of her mother-in-law—and against her better judgment—she and her son Jack move to tiny Utopia and into her husband’s grandmother’s house.

  When Jack and Lindsey form an unlikely friendship, Hannah reluctantly joins them and the three spend the summer swimming and healing as laughter eventually replaces tears. After Jack goes back to school, Hannah assumes their summer fun is over. Instead, Lindsey continues to come around and now—as they find themselves alone—Hannah realizes just how close they’ve become. Soon, she finds herself struggling with her feelings as their friendship threatens to shift into something much deeper…something she fears she won’t be able to fight. Something she fears she won’t want to fight.

  A story of grief and healing…a story of love.

  Copyright © 2017 by Gerri Hill

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  First Bella Books Edition 2017

  eBook released 2017

  Editor: Medora MacDougall

  Cover Designer: Judith Fellows

  ISBN: 978-1-59493-563-3

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Other Bella Books by Gerri Hill

  Angel Fire

  Artist’s Dream

  At Seventeen

  Behind the Pine Curtain

  Chasing a Brighter Blue

  The Cottage

  Coyote Sky

  Dawn of Change

  Devil’s Rock

  Gulf Breeze

  Hell’s Highway

  Hunter’s Way

  In the Name of the Father

  Keepers of the Cave

  The Killing Room

  Love Waits

  The Midnight Moon

  No Strings

  One Summer Night

  Paradox Valley

  Partners

  Pelican’s Landing

  The Rainbow Cedar

  The Roundabout

  Sawmill Springs

  The Scorpion

  Sierra City

  Snow Falls

  Storms

  The Target

  Weeping Walls

  About the Author

  Gerri Hill has thirty-two published works, including the 2017 GCLS winner Paradox Valley, 2014 GCLS winner The Midnight Moon, 2011, 2012 and 2013 winners Devil’s Rock, Hell’s Highway and Snow Falls, and the 2009 GCLS winner Partners, the last book in the popular Hunter Series, as well as the 2013 Lambda finalist At Seventeen.

  Gerri lives in south-central Texas, only a few hours from the Gulf Coast, a place that has inspired many of her books. With her partner, Diane, they share their life with two Australian shepherds—Casey and Cooper—and a couple of furry felines.

  For more, visit her website at gerrihill.com.

  Chapter One

  Lindsey McDermott walked along the rocky trail, a four-month-old black Lab running along beside her. She wondered how long her heart would be heavy—hollow—as she traveled these familiar paths. Lively conversation and laughter used to fill the air…now, nothing but emptiness surrounded her.

  She glanced down at the puppy that had bumped her leg. Oh, not totally empty, she acknowledged. If she let it, the dog could bring a smile to her face with his antics. If she allowed sounds inside, she could hear the call of scrub jays and crows as they scolded her from the trees. She could hear the frequent sounds of the titmouse and chickadee as they flitted between the cedars and oaks and the clear, whistling melody of a cardinal as he sang to his mate. Occasionally, the shrill, sharp call of a red-tailed hawk circling overhead would have her searching the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse.

  But it was the absence of sounds that saddened her the most. Children’s laughter, lost in the trees; playful banter between her brother and sister and their spouses; her father’s booming voice; her grandmother’s gentle laugh; her mother chasing after the giggling grandkids; her grandfather singing as they walked…sounds that haunted her now.

  Empty sounds that had been haunting her for months. Sounds she would never hear again…yet sounds that would fo
rever echo in her mind.

  She took a deep breath, cursing the direction of her thoughts. Nearly every day she walked the trails that littered her grandparents’ property…trails that she’d help build over the years. It was an ideal piece of property in the Hill Country, bordered by the cool, clear waters of the Frio River on one side and little rock-filled Buffalo Creek on the opposite. In between were acres and acres of rocky hills dotted with oaks and ashe junipers—always referred to by the locals as cedars—prickly pear cactus, the thorny mesquite trees, the lovely mountain laurels and bigtooth maples and the many ancient cypress trees that lined both the river and the creek. Paradise, her grandmother had called it. Now it was her paradise. And she’d found that paradise was a very, very lonely place.

  Once again, she thought that maybe it had been a mistake to move here. But what else could she do? She wasn’t able to function out there. She wasn’t able to do her job. Hell, she barely had the will to live most days. No, her life had been torn to pieces. Shredded. She wanted to hide in a dark place and retreat from the world. Many a night she wished for it to end, hoping she wouldn’t live to see another miserable day. The sun rose again, of course.

  She walked on, pushing out her thoughts as she usually tried to do. Max picked up a stick and carried it along as they walked. She needed to spend more time with him. He loved to fetch and she’d found an old tennis ball in the garden shed. When she could muster up the energy—and the want-to—she’d toss it to him in the evenings. He was a smart dog with boundless energy, and she should be using this time to train him. So far he’d mastered “sit,” which he’d do for all of three seconds, and he’d learned to “shake,” his new favorite thing. Of course, “ball” was the word that got his attention the most and even when she didn’t ask him, he’d often find the faded yellow ball and bring it to her. She ruffled his head now, then attempted to pull the stick from his mouth. He clamped his teeth down tightly on it, emitting a playful growl as he tugged it away from her.

  Then she heard it. Laughter. A child’s laugh. At first, she thought it was a cruel joke. It sounded like Eli, her nephew. Her heart ached and she looked around, halfway expecting to see him running behind her, his grin contagious as he flew into her arms. No…the trail was empty. However, the laughter rang out again. Max turned, his floppy ears at attention, his stare going into the woods.

  The trail they’d taken that day was on the eastern side of the property, adjacent to Buffalo Creek. As was normally the case, she’d taken her grandfather’s Kawasaki Mule to one of the cross trails and was walking from there, making a loop around that could take anywhere from one to two hours, depending on which route she took.

  She decided to investigate the sound. It was coming from the creek, most likely. The creek separated her grandparents’ place from the Larsons’ on the other side. The McDermotts and the Larsons did not get along. She’d learned at an early age not to play in the creek if Old Lady Larson was out and about. She was a mean old biddy, and frankly, Lindsey had been afraid of her. She wondered if she was still alive.

  When they got close to the creek, she silenced Max, holding him to her side as her gaze went down to the water. She was shocked to see a boy, eight or ten years old, tossing rocks into the water. A yellow dog, probably a puppy like Max, was attempting to catch them, causing the boy to laugh. She stood there, tears filling her eyes as she watched him. Eli would have been seven. Jett, nine. She could see them tossing rocks into the Frio River, not the creek. She could see them splashing in the pond or swinging off the rope into the river, laughing as they plunged into the cold water. The sight of this boy with his shaggy blond hair shining in the sun, the dog bouncing beside him, made her so incredibly sad, she felt her heart breaking all over again.

  She retreated, away from the creek, her tears flowing down her cheeks. Max whimpered beside her, as he normally did when she cried. She went back to the trail, thoughts trying to crash in despite her best effort to push them back out again. The phone call, the tears, the funerals, the emptiness…and the loneliness.

  As often happened, she simply couldn’t take it. She slumped down against a tree, sobs nearly choking her as she cried. The black dog lay beside her, his teeth nibbling at her hand. She didn’t know how long she sat there. It could have been hours. Long enough for her tears to dry. Long enough for the emptiness to surround her heart again.

  Chapter Two

  Hannah Larson had learned a long time ago to tune her mother-in-law out. It was an art, really, to pretend to listen while letting her voice—and words—fade away as if they’d never been spoken. James had taught her how, saying he’d learned to do it with his grandmother when she would go on and on about something. Margie, his mother, had apparently learned the art of nagging from her. She had it down pat.

  “Well? Does it not concern you?”

  Hannah blinked her eyes. God, was she still talking about Jack and the creek? “He’s nearly ten.”

  “And? He’s not familiar with the area, Hannah. I can’t believe you’d let him go out like that!”

  She sighed. “I walked down there with him. I put markers out along a trail so he wouldn’t get lost. I put markers along both ends of the creek, telling him he could go no farther than that. He’ll be fine.”

  “Not to belabor the point, but he grew up in the city. This is—”

  “I know, Margie. I know. It’s just a little creek, though. It’s not like it’s a river or anything.”

  “They say you can drown in an inch of water. They say—”

  “Margie, please,” she said, holding her hand up. “We moved here because you wanted us to be close. You wanted him to experience living out here where his dad grew up. James told me on numerous occasions how he would roam the hills out here unsupervised.”

  “That’s completely different. James was born and raised here. Jack, as I said earlier, wouldn’t have a clue what to do if he came upon a rattlesnake, for instance.”

  “Yes, he would. He would run like hell.”

  Margie’s face scrunched into a frown. “You know I don’t like you using that word, Hannah. I hope you don’t use it in front of Jack. I’ll say it again…he needs some structure in his life. He needs…”

  Oh, God. Was she going to start in again on them going to church with her? She could almost picture James’s face as he stood behind his mother, making faces and rolling his eyes, she trying her best not to laugh. Once again, Margie’s voice faded away as she let her mind drift to James, his handsome face etched in pain, his slick head the result of chemo, his once-bright blue eyes dull and filled with agony. Her only consolation was that he didn’t suffer long, but suffer he did. The last month, the tumor in his brain caused him so much pain that he lived on morphine. The last two weeks, he’d been in and out of consciousness, she and Jack watching as he slowly, painfully slipped away from them.

  She should have listened to her mother. She should have stayed in San Antonio. She had friends there. Jack had friends there. Her family was there, her support system. But nagging wasn’t Margie Larson’s only talent. No, placing blame and laying guilt as thick as molasses ranked right up there. James was Margie’s only son. Jack was her only grandchild. James’s grandmother, Lilly—Jack’s great-grandmother—had recently been put into a nursing home. The house was vacant…a house that James practically grew up in. How could she say no to Margie’s insistence that she and Jack move there? Still, she agonized over the decision. Their house was filled with James’s ghost, and she often found Jack sitting in it in a daze, tears running down his cheeks. It had been two months, and he seemed no closer to getting over James’s death than he had at the beginning.

  That was the reason she decided to sell the house, decided to move. Jack needed a change, and she thought living out here, where he would have land to explore and where he could play where his own daddy had grown up might help him heal. He would make new friends, different friends. Utopia was a tiny community in the Hill Country, only a couple of hours fro
m San Antonio. With a population of three hundred, she hesitated to even call it a town. She had told Jack they would give it a year. If either one of them wasn’t happy after a year, then they would move back to San Antonio, no questions asked. He agreed and they’d begun packing the very next day.

  After a week of being here, though, she was already having second thoughts about her decision. Margie had been over every single day, something she’d feared would happen. The Larson place was over six hundred acres yet the prime spot was along Buffalo Creek. James’s grandparents’ house, which she and Jack had moved into, was less than a mile from James’s parents’ house. A very short mile.

  “And I think that would be the best place for him to make friends.”

  Hannah stared at her blankly. “I’m sorry. What? A camp?”

  “The church camp. It’s only for a week. I’ve already reserved him a spot.”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, Margie. We haven’t even gotten settled yet. I’m not sending him off, alone, to a church camp where he doesn’t know a soul. No.”

  Margie smiled, a patronizing smile that she had grown to detest over the years. “That’s how you make friends, Hannah. It’s only for a week. He’ll be fine.”

  “No. He’s not going. I’m sorry.” She made a show of looking at her watch. “I suppose I should get started on dinner. Thanks for dropping by, Margie.”

  Margie’s smile faded a little. “I get the impression you’re throwing me out.”

  “Of course not,” she lied. “I have things to do, that’s all.”

  “You know, you and Jack are welcome to have dinner with us. In fact, when I envisioned you living here, I thought you’d come over quite often. So far, you’ve only managed to join us one time.”

  “Well, we’ve only been here a week, Margie. Not even settled in yet. Besides, if I want to make this a home for Jack, then I need to get back to our routine, and that involves me cooking dinner.”

  “I imagine it’s hard to cook now with James gone.” Margie’s face dropped and sadness prevailed. Hannah wondered how much of it was forced, just for show. “I do miss him. Jack looks so much like him.”