DELANEY’S SUNRISE
RHONDA LEE CARVER
LYRICAL PRESS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/
To Jay
Acknowledgements
To my children. Thank you to Tharp Animal Health Center who graciously answered questions. To all of the farmers in Ohio. To Todd for listening and car chases. To my readers...may you always find a smile.
Chapter 1
Dee Crawford switched off the radio as she passed the road sign. Willow Creek, One Mile Ahead.
Anticipation and apprehension slithered up her spine like chilly fingers. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and between her breasts, so she rolled down the window of her Jeep. The brisk breeze cooled her feverish skin, but did little to diminish her uneasiness.
Taking a much-needed breath, slow and measured, Dee counted to ten, one of many relaxation techniques she’d absorbed from motivational CDs on the long drive from Chicago to Ohio’s farmland. She’d need every last trick to manage her rolling stomach. She’d stopped at a greasy diner two hundred miles back and packed away more than a thousand calories worth of cheeseburger, fries, and strawberry milkshake. She hadn’t had a good burger in at least five years–not since she moved away. Thinking back, she couldn’t believe she’d once attempted a diet of tofu, bean sprouts, and eggplant.
More than once friends had called her crazy for her impulsiveness, yet Dee considered herself fairly level-headed. On the other hand, coming back to Willow Creek was probably downright nuts. Since she’d decided to return to the small-town home she’d hastily abandoned, she’d questioned her sanity repeatedly.
Past experience told her nothing but trouble waited in Willow Creek.
Dee pushed her thoughts into the back of her mind and kept her attention on the road.
A few miles later, she passed a familiar run-down barn and on the next curve, Dee turned onto the bumpy country road. For the next five minutes, she dodged cracks and potholes until she finally passed under the large Delaney’s Farm sign.
One dark, dreary night, she’d pulled out of this very road and bid farewell to country living and everything that went with it. At the time, she’d thought leaving was the only way to rid her life of the guilt and sadness that had filled her.
And the only way to forget Abe Delaney.
Dee studied the scenery as she drove along the narrow gravel drive. She slowed the Jeep as she passed layers of thick, lush pine trees as green as if a painter had painted them that very moment. She breathed in the tangy, fresh scent. A tingle of awareness swirled in her chest. She’d yet to find a sweeter smell.
Dee glanced past the line of foliage to the sweeping view of the large pond. Ducks floated by an old gray fishing boat. A fishing rod stood propped against the hull.
She drove past red barns. The smells of hay and cow dung wafted on the breeze. A city girl’s worst nightmare–or maybe not. Better than car exhaust fumes. Spotting a regal stallion trotting along the white fence, Dee smiled. One didn’t see that in the city.
Reaching the north side of the property, she gazed across the blueberry grove and, beyond that, a section of green pasture. “Beautiful,” she said aloud.
The solitude and peace of the landscape comforted her. She could feel her blood pressure drop and her anxiety float away.
The large white farmhouse hadn’t changed a bit from what she remembered. It was still lovely enough to be featured on the front cover of Country Home Magazine. Large windows were framed in pristine curtains. The traditional wraparound porch was lined with rockers, welcoming someone to sit with a glass of iced tea as the evening passed.
Delaney’s Farm was the most pleasant, dreamy place she’d ever seen. Built in the 1800s, it had started out as the town’s first school. In those days, it was a one-room structure. Soon after the Delaney family bought it, they built on rooms and turned it into a comfortable home.
Dee parked, turned off the Jeep’s engine, but didn’t make a move to get out. She scanned the front of the house, looking for any sign of life. Not that she’d expected a red carpet welcome, but simple acknowledgement of her arrival would have been nice.
Abe had driven her away five years ago, and his sentiments probably hadn’t changed. She had written to tell him she was arriving, but he hadn’t responded. She hadn’t been surprised. When his brother, Jacob, had died in a tragic car accident two weeks before he’d planned to marry Dee, life had taken a severe turn for the worse.
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she finally slid out of the driver’s seat, stretching her tired muscles. The sun beat down on her skin, and she glanced at the bright blue sky. It was an unusually hot day for May in Ohio, and she expected it to get much hotter once she came face to face with Abe.
Dee removed her bags and dropped the three leather cases to the gravel, studying them with disappointment. It was somewhat debasing to realize everything she owned sat before her.
But this was her chance for a new beginning. It was time she made a change. Would Abe realize that?
Dee heard the squeak of the screen door opening. Her heart beat faster. She turned, expecting to find a tall man sporting a frown. Instead, she came eye to eye with a silver-haired woman wearing an apron. Dee dropped her gaze to the woman’s hands, which clasped tightly against her large bosom. From the older woman’s narrowed eyes and glower, Dee wasn’t a welcome sight.
Planting a winning smile on her face, Dee stepped up on the porch and offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Dee Crawford.”
“Yes, Ms. Crawford,” the other woman replied with a curt nod. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Dee pulled back her hand and hooked her thumb in the front pocket of her jeans. “Please call me Dee. I’m glad Abe received my letter. I’m sorry, but he didn’t reply, so that kind of puts me at a disadvantage.”
With a pensive look and a sideways tilt of her head, the woman said, “I’m Mrs. Graves. I’ve been the housekeeper here at the farm for four years. I do the cleaning and the cooking.”
The woman’s attitude grated, but Dee took it with a grain of salt. Mrs. Graves could have waited to find a reason to dislike her before jumping to conclusions. Dee didn’t intend to step on any toes.
“Thanks for greeting me, Mrs. Graves.”
“Abe asked me to show you in if you showed up.”
She sucked in a breath and bit her bottom lip as she swallowed her trepidation. Retrieving her bags, Dee made her way back up the steps to the porch. Mrs. Graves stepped to the side and held the door open. As Dee passed, she lost her grip on the luggage. One bag slid down her arm, falling to the wooden floor with a loud thump.
Mrs. Graves’s mouth thinned as she examined the floor, as if looking for damage. “Do you need any help?”
Dee looked at the woman. Was she serious? Biting back laughter, Dee shrugged. She turned her attention to the familiar decorations of the foyer. Framed pictures of family still filled one wall, and she glanced over generations of Delaneys with their coal-black hair, dazzling smiles, mocha eyes, and olive complexions.
Her favorite picture, positioned significantly in the