Page 60 of Point of Mercy

While Adam scrambled all over the playground equipment, Turner chased him, and Heather sat alone on a park bench. In the evening, with the wind soughing through the trees, Gold Creek didn’t seem so horrible. She had fond memories of the town where as a child she’d drawn hopscotch on the cracked sidewalks, jumped rope and ridden her bike along the flat tree-lined streets. Her family hadn’t had much money, but they’d made up for it in love.

And then her father had started drinking and his wandering eye had ripped apart that cozy blanket of security. Their mother had been devastated, the girls stunned. Tears and anger, pity and anguish had been followed by deep embarrassment. Gossiping tongues had wagged. Her father had filed for divorce and married a younger woman. The rumors had exploded. Later, Roy Fitzpatrick had been killed and Rachelle, alone, had stood up for Jackson Moore, the bad boy, telling the world that she’d spent the night with him, ruining her reputation.

Scandal had swept like a tornado through Gold Creek and the Tremonts were at its vortex. The friends and neighbors Heather had known all her life seemed to look at her differently, some with compassion, some with worry, others with out-and-out disgust. Life had never been the same. Heather had learned what it felt like to be an object of speculation while her sister became an object of ridicule. And Heather had begun to hate the small town she’d once felt was the center of the universe.

But now…if she faced the past, stood proudly with Turner by her side, maybe she could learn to feel comfortable in Gold Creek again. Not all the citizens were gossips. Not all were cruel. Not all had long memories. Not all cared. The people, and the town, had grown up, and Rachelle had been vindicated.

However, when the truth about Adam’s parentage came out, she feared her innocent little boy would become grist for a long-dry gossip mill. But now she was stronger. She and Turner would protect their son.

For Heather, what people thought was no longer as important as it once had been.She’d survive, with her head held high. As for changing her lifestyle, there were drawbacks to living in the city where oftentimes she’d felt isolated. In San Francisco there were so many people, but so few good friends. Knowing people from the time they were children created a bond that was like no other in life.

Rachelle, though she hadn’t seen Carlie in years, would never find a friend she understood better.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Heather watched as Turner pushed Adam on a swing. Adam shrieked in delight and Turner laughed, a deep, rumbling sound of pure happiness. In her heart, Heather knew she could never separate father and son. Now that they’d come to know each other, she wouldn’t stand between them.

Stars winked in the heavens and other children played a game of tag on the baseball diamond near the equipment. Mothers and fathers pushed strollers down the cement walkways. Teenagers cruised by in cars, searching for their friends.

There was a charm to this town, and whether she liked it or not, it was, and always would be, home. Tears touched the back of her eyes. She could return. Her mother was here. Her father was in a town nearby. Jackson had told Rachelle he thought they should buy some property here eventually, though that might have been a joke. But if he was serious, there was a chance he and Rachelle would visit occasionally.

And Turner, bless and curse him, Turner belonged here.

The course of the rest of her life depended upon Turner.As it had since the first time she’d made

love to him six years before.

* * *

It was afternine by the time they returned to the ranch. Nadine had made the spare room up for Adam, and after a quick bath, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Turner and Heather were alone. They sat on the porch swing, hearing the chorus of crickets and watching thousands of diamondlike stars glitter in the dark heavens. The old swing rocked slowly back and forth, creaking on rusty hinges. Roses, gone to seed, scented the air. Turner placed his arm over the back of the swing, gently holding Heather closer. “I wasn’t kidding this afternoon,” he said, his voice surprisingly rough. “I want you to consider marrying me.”

She was touched, and her heart screamed “yes.” “You wouldn’t be happy,” she said, her head resting against his shoulder.

“Youwouldn’t be happy.”

Right now she was more content than she’d ever been. She couldn’t imagine spending another day alone, without Turner. “I could be happy, Turner,” she heard herself say, “with you. With Adam.”

“But…?”

“But I’m not sure if I could live in the town.”

“We’re miles from the town, and there’s a fairly substantial lake between the ranch and Gold Creek. It wouldn’t be like before, when you were smack-dab in the middle of the city limits. And if you want to paint and draw, we’ll find you a place. You could still keep the gallery in the city and go there anytime you got the urge.”

Was it worth it? She gazed into Turner’s steel-gray eyes and her heart swelled with love.She knew there was only one answer. “Of course I’ll marry you, Turner,” she said, as his strong arms surrounded her. His lips touched hers, gently at first, softly exploring, until he brazenly covered her mouth with his own.

* * *

Four days later,Heather had settled herself into the ranch routine. Though she did cook breakfast and dinner for Adam and Turner, she drew the line at lunch for the hands. She figured they’d gotten along without her all these years and they could get along without her now. Besides, she planned to spend a lot of her time sketching or painting.

She and Adam had scouted through all the old buildings and finally, though it needed a lot of work, she’d settled on an attic over the stables for her studio. Every evening, Turner had helped her haul out the junk—books, magazines, old bikes, broken saddles, trunks of clothes and everything else under the sun. She was ready to start work refurbishing the room and she eyed it critically.

The attic was unique with its windows, pitched ceiling and inoperable ceiling fan. Though the room was smaller than her studio in the city, and it would require a lot of elbow grease to clean it up, the attic definitely had potential. With a couple of skylights, new paint and refinished floors, the room just might convert into an attractive workplace.

“I think you’re right,” agreed her mother, who had come out to the ranch for a visit.“But you might check for mice,” she added, her practiced gaze sweeping the baseboards.

“I’ll get a cat,” Heather replied with a grin.

Ellen swiped at a cobweb dangling from the ceiling. “You know, I don’t approve of you living here,” she said, chewing nervously on her lip.

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