The next morning after she’d said that, Momma wouldn’t wake up. The sheriff had come and asked Daddy a bunch of questions.
Daddy held him close and kissed the top of his head. “Your momma loved you, Seth. She just…just...” His voice cracked and he sounded like he was crying again. “She just never forgave me for not letting her go off to Nashville.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid she’d get famous and forget about us.” Daddy pulled him close, his voice so low and deep he had to listen close to hear the words. “Instead, she felt trapped here and hated me for denying her dream.”
If Momma hated Daddy, she probably hated him, too.
Chapter 1
Seth Kendall parked his Escalade and stared out at the people who had known him all his life. What the hell was he doing here?
With a sigh, he opened the door, and all eyes turned in his direction as he got out. Why hadn’t he stayed in Nashville as everyone assumed he would? Why did coming back here seem so important now, after being away for fourteen years?
The answers to those questions had plagued him the entire drive to his hometown of McAllister in the Texas Panhandle. The motivation wasn’t his father’s death at all. He’d come home because it was time for him to make things right, even if that meant causing a whole mess of hell to get it done.
He shrugged into his jacket. If it had been made of solid iron, it wouldn’t have felt any heavier. The mid-August day was hot, but the sweat gathering under his Hugo Boss suit didn’t come from the afternoon sun. People watched him all the time. That came with the fame he’d garnered as a country music superstar, but today, he didn’t want to be gawked at. He adjusted the knot of his necktie and closed the door of the SUV.
He tipped his hat and nodded toward his father’s friends and business associates as he headed toward the old church. None of the mourners spoke to him, but he could imagine what they were thinking. Everyone knew he and his father had despised each other.
Decorum required he remove his Ray-Bans and black Stetson as he entered the church, but he forced his expression to remain impassive. He combed his fingers through his hair and looked around. People chose seats, gradually filling the oak pews, and the low murmur of conversation mingled with the bagpipes playing a mournful rendition of his father’s favorite hymn, Amazing Grace. He recognized almost everyone as he made his way to the front.
“Aunt Johanna.” He stopped where his father’s twin sister and the minister were speaking in hushed tones next to the open casket.
Johanna Kendall looked up at him with blue eyes reminding him of his father’s. Dressed in a severe black dress and with her graying red hair pulled into a bun, she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. “Seth, I’m glad you finally made it home.”
He held on for a moment before letting go. He’d come home for her. “How are you holding up?”
She shrugged and her eyes filled with misty sadness. “I’ll be okay.” Johanna used a white lace handkerchief to dab at her red-rimmed eyes. “I’ll miss him. I never realized his heart was so bad. He always seemed as strong as a bull.”
“We may not have seen eye to eye, but he was still my father.” Hugging his aunt again, he held her and looked anywhere but at the man lying on the white satin inside the casket. He glanced at the pew behind him. As he sucked in a deep breath, he stepped away from Johanna and dropped his hat onto the seat.
Johanna moved away to speak with Glenda Marshall, the mayor’s wife.
Seth held out his hand to the minister. “Reverend Keller.”
“It’s a shame you were unable to get away from your engagements to come home sooner. How’re you doin’, Seth?”
“I’m as good as can be expected, I guess.” He shook the preacher’s hand, then shoved both of his hands into his pants pockets. “I’m glad he didn’t suffer.” He didn’t know what else to say.
He’d been in the recording studio when Johanna had frantically called him three days ago after she’d found John dead on the floor of his study. Unsure if he’d come home for the funeral or not, he finished the last songs for his next album, set for release in the spring. Now he wished he hadn’t rushed to get the damned record done. At least then, he’d have had an excuse to escape as soon as this day was over.
Which was complete bullshit. He wasn’t leaving here until he settled a score.
A heavy hand touched his shoulder. He turned to look into the rich brown eyes of one of his father’s closest friends, and a man for whom he held a great deal of respect. He stuck out his hand and greeted the older man with a warm smile. “Judge Ritter, it’s great to see you again.”
Retired county judge Franklin Michael Ritter II smiled and shook his hand. He’d always reminded Seth a little of Mark Twain--tall and lanky with white wavy hair and a handlebar mustache. “It’s nice to see you, too. Though, I’d have preferred different circumstances. It’s been a long time, son.”
He didn’t miss the quiet censure in the judge’s tone. Or the way the man seemed to shake all over. His Parkinson’s must have gotten worse.
“Oh, Seth, I’m so glad you made it home,” an extremely petite woman said in a soft Georgia accent, and Seth found himself being hugged tightly around the waist. He returned Carolann Ritter’s embrace, holding on for a moment. In so many ways, she’d replaced the mother he’d lost to a drug overdose. “We sorely did miss you over the years.”
He forced a smile as she stepped away. Guilt needled him when tears shimmered in her brown eyes. Carolann and Frank had never made it a secret they loved him when he was a kid. Lord knew he never heard those words from his old man.
“Aw, Miz Ritter, I’ve missed y’all, too.”
When a woman slowly moved in next to Carolann and Frank Ritter, his heart constricted. He forced the name through his tightening jaw. “Abigail.”
“Hello, Seth.” Dressed in a simple navy blue dress, Abigail Crawford Ritter stopped before him. She stared up at him with widened almond-shaped eyes the color of brandy. The naturally tan complexion she’d inherited from her Native American mother went pale and taut over her high cheekbones. She fiddled with the purse strap over her shoulder and pulled her long dark brown hair over her other shoulder. “We didn’t think you’d be here.”
He easily discerned the real meaning: We don’t want you here.
The past slammed into him with blazing force, transporting him back to the manmade beach of the McAllister Reservoir. Returning him to the night he and Abby let their attraction turn into uncontrolled lust, and under the stars on a deserted stretch of weedy sand, she’d given him her virginity.
“Uh...I wasn’t sure...I would be,” he stammered and tried to shake off the memory of a passion he hadn’t been able to forget. He forced himself to look beyond her.
“Sorry about your father.” Mike Ritter stepped forward. His brown eyes were as hard as the bricks making up the walls of the church. Not quite reaching six feet, Mike was four inches shorter, and lanky like Frank. Mike was dressed in a suit as expensive as Seth’s, if not more so. Since when was the county paying its sheriff enough for him to afford an Armani suit and snakeskin boots? Not to mention the Resistol hat in his hand.
Then Seth noticed the obviously pregnant brunette holding Mike’s hand. An heiress to a fortune made from the railroad, oil and banking. “Tammy Jo McAllister?”
She smiled and slipped her arm around Mike’s waist, while she rested her other hand on her baby bump. The gray dress she wore had designer written all over it. She must still have more money than King Midas and spent it like there was no tomorrow. “Hello, Seth. I’m now Tammy Jo Ritter.”
An