“I wondered when you would finally show up, Rachel.” Michael Hunter stopped several feet from her on the river landing.
There was none of the remembered warmth in his voice, and Rachel Peters shuddered in the heat of the day. “I came as soon as I found out.” Everything around her seemed to come to a standstill, the breeze, the flow of the river, the chirping of the birds, her heartbeat.
“We couldn’t wait for you. We buried Flora yesterday.”
“I was working halfway around the world as a guest chef on a cruise.” The tightness in her throat prevented her from explaining further. She’d only found out the day before about Aunt Flora’s death. Her aunt had been like a mother to her. It had taken more than a week for the message from the family lawyer to finally catch up with Rachel. She hadn’t even had time to think about her aunt’s death, much less grieve properly. Swallowing hard, Rachel asked, “How are Amy and Shaun?”
“Do you care?”
The hostility in his question sparked her anger, but she was determined not to let him see his effect on her. “Where are my sister and brother?” she asked in an even voice, suppressing her rage.
Michael gestured toward the riverboat. “They’re with Garrett. Why?”
“Why? Because I’ve come to take them home.”
“Whose home? Aunt Flora’s or yours, wherever that may be?”
“I don’t have to defend myself or my lifestyle to you.”
The harsh glint in his eyes intensified. “They’ve been through a lot this past week. I think it’ll be better if they stay with me for a while.”
“You!” Her anger began to infuse her voice, her expression.
“Yes, me. I know Amy and Shaun. Can you honestly say the same?”
“They’re my family.”
“And that automatically gives you the right to decide what’s best for them?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you when Shaun broke his arm or Amy went on her first date?”
Rachel clamped her teeth together so tightly that pain radiated down her neck. “They’re my responsibility now. Take me to them—please,” she said in a slow, deliberate voice.
For a long moment he stared at her, his gaze hard, unyielding. Pieces of their past came together in her mind like a patchwork quilt. There had been other times when their gazes had clashed in silent battle and times when they had connected in friendship and mutual affection. The blare of a boat’s horn startled Rachel, the pieces of the quilt unraveling. Blinking, she looked away from Michael.
“Don’t bother. I’m sure I can find them.” She headed for the gangplank, more resolved than ever to remain in control and not let Michael get to her.
“They’re in the main salon.”
Rachel kept walking, feeling the scorch of his regard on her back. All she wanted was to get her sister and brother and leave. She’d known when she returned to Magnolia Blossom, Mississippi, that she would probably see Michael again, but she hadn’t been prepared for the emotional impact of their meeting.
Remembering the location of the main salon, Rachel went straight to it. She paused in the doorway to scan the room that had once been beautiful and grand. Amy, Shaun and Michael’s son, Garrett, sat at a table, their voices low, their heads bent together. When Amy glanced up and stopped talking, Rachel entered the salon, realizing the next few minutes might be even more difficult than the last ones.
It had been almost a year since she’d seen Amy and Shaun. She’d talked to them on the phone, but it wasn’t the same. They’ve grown up a lot in that time. I don’t know them very well, she thought, fighting a surge of panic. Once or twice a year isn’t enough time to know what they’re feeling, thinking, to be a family.
“Hello, Shaun. Amy.” Rachel attempted a smile that quivered at the corners of her mouth, the tension in the air as thick as the humidity that draped her. When neither one said anything, she turned to Michael’s son, hoping he would break the taut silence. “I’m Rachel Peters, Amy and Shaun’s sister.”
“I’m Garrett. Nice to meet you.” The young boy stood and extended his hand.
The similarities between father and son disarmed her. It was as though she was staring at a younger version of Michael, more relaxed, more carefree—like he had once been around her. Then she remembered his marriage to Mary Lou and the betrayal she’d felt when she’d heard about it. She realized she had no right to feel that way, but sometimes emotions weren’t easy to control. The memory gnawed at her composure until she determinedly pushed it away.
“What are you doing here?” Amy’s question cut into the silence like a sharpened butcher’s knife into a piece of thick meat.
Rachel looked at her sixteen-year-old sister. Amy’s expression was defiant, and for a moment Rachel didn’t know how to answer her. “Aunt Flora asked me to take care of you two if anything ever happened to her. I promised her I would.”
At the time she hadn’t thought she would ever really have to take care of her brother and sister. She had only been concerned with making her aunt feel better.
Amy shot to her feet. “We’re doing just fine the way things are now. Michael doesn’t mind us staying with him. Go back to wherever you came from. Shaun and I don’t wanna leave.”
Rachel glanced from her sister to her eight-year-old brother then back to her sister, not sure what to do. “I’m not going back just yet. I’ve come to take you to Aunt Flora’s.”
Amy pushed back her chair, its scraping sound reverberating in the silence. Standing behind Shaun, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “We don’t need your help. I’m sure you have better things to do than baby-sit us.”
Michael walked into the salon, sharpening Rachel’s awareness of the hostility in the room. Her nape tingled, and the humid air felt even heavier and more oppressive. “Let’s go home and we’ll discuss everything there. I’m not going to make any decisions without talking it over with you two first.”
Amy began to say something, but Michael interrupted. “I think that’s a good idea. Your sister has come a long way, and y’all have a lot to talk about.”
Amy clamped her lips together in a pout.
Shaun looked at Garrett, who nodded. Shaun rose, touching Amy’s arm. “C’mon, I need to check on my fish anyway.”
Amy didn’t move. Her pout deepened as she folded her arms across her chest.
“This was your aunt’s wish,” Michael said in a gentle tone. “Y’all are welcome to visit anytime. My home is always open.”
When Amy’s bottom lip started to tremble, she bit it. Drawing in a long breath, she said, “Oh, all right—for the time being.” She rushed past Rachel and Michael.
As the two boys followed Amy from the salon, Rachel started to thank Michael, but the sight of his hard stare caused the words to die in her throat. His gaze cut through her as though she were beneath his consideration.
“I didn’t do it for you, Rachel. Amy and Shaun don’t need to feel any more torn apart than they already are. But my offer still stands. They’re welcome to stay with me and Garrett anytime.”
“We’ll do fine once everything settles down.” She stopped short of telling him that they didn’t need his help. Since returning to Magnolia Blossom, she wasn’t sure of anything.
One brow arched as he studied her. A slow, chilling smile appeared on his face. “I hope so—for Amy and Shaun’s sake.”
Michael had once been her best friend, but she didn’t know this man before her now. The realization saddened her. Puzzled by her feelings, she hurried toward the door. “I’d better go. I don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that.”
The condemning tone of his voice stopped her at the door. He had always been able to provoke her. She couldn’t afford to let him incite her. Over the years she had learned to control her emotions. Gripping the doorjamb, she calmly murmured goodbye, then left the salon to find her sister and brother.
Amy and Shaun stood on the landing below. Her sister still had her arms crossed over her chest with a frown lining her brow while her brother was skipping rocks across the water with Garrett. Observing them, Rachel was overwhelmed. She was not only trying to come to terms with the death of her aunt, whom she loved dearly, but with the fact that she was the only person her younger sister and brother could depend on. Since leaving Magnolia Blossom she’d had her life planned. Now she had no earthly idea what the future held. The thought scared her to death.
* * *
When Michael came out onto the deck behind her, she felt his regard and shivered in the warm air. With no more than a glance at him, she hurried down the stairs.
Michael watched Rachel stop on the landing to gather her sister and brother. Anger held him rigid, his hands gripping the railing. Until he had seen Rachel, he hadn’t realized how angry he was. He’d thought he’d gotten over her years before, but the memory of her last day in Magnolia Blossom assailed him. She’d walked away from him and the town and had never once looked back. He had to find a way to get past his anger because he loved Amy and Shaun and wanted to be there for them in their time of need.
Lord, help me to overcome this sudden feeling of anger at Rachel. She’s a part of my past, where I want to keep her. I need to be strong for Amy and Shaun, but I’m afraid I can’t do it without Your guidance.
* * *
“Rachel, Flora knew you would do what was best for Shaun and Amy,” the family lawyer said as he closed the file and leaned back in his chair.
Rachel rose, feeling sorrow, pain, confusion. “But that’s the problem, Robert. I don’t know what’s best.”
“Give it some time. Don’t rush things.”
Rachel smoothed a strand of black hair that had strayed from her compact French braid. After gathering her clutch purse, she shook Robert Davenport’s hand. “I don’t think Shaun or Amy will let me do anything but take it slowly. I’m finding my sister and brother are as strong-willed as Aunt Flora was.”
“Then I guess you’ll be staying a while.”
“Yes.” The one word sounded like a death sentence.
“I’ll be out to the house in a couple of days. There are some more papers you’ll need to sign. We’ll need to work out guardianship. From conversations with Flora, living with your parents isn’t an option for Amy and Shaun.”
Her control faltered, emotions constricting her throat. The enormous responsibility she had agreed to take on hit her with overwhelming force. “No, my parents don’t live in a place conducive to raising children. I tried reaching them, but I haven’t gotten a response from their base camp in the Amazon.”
When Rachel stepped outside Robert’s office, a hot blast of summer air fogged her sunglasses. She moved them down the bridge of her nose and took a moment to scan the small, sleepy Southern town, nestled along the banks of the Mississippi River near Natchez.
An old man across the street waved to Rachel, and she returned the greeting. A couple passed her on the sidewalk and offered her their condolences. Everyone knew everyone. For two short years as a teenager she had been a part of this town, made to feel welcome because of her aunt. Rachel’s chest tightened, and she drew in several deep breaths.
Magnolia Blossom—stifling, confining. She hadn’t wanted to be a part of this town. She had left ten years ago because she’d refused to put down roots.
A bright yellow sign caught Rachel’s attention. Helen’s Southern Delight. Suddenly Rachel needed to be with a person who cared. Helen had been there for her in the past.
When Rachel entered the café with its booths along one wall and a jukebox on the other side, Helen came from behind the counter to hug her. “Well, sugar, it’s ‘bout time you stepped into my place.”
Sitting at the counter, Rachel felt as though she were eighteen again and seeking Helen’s advice about going to Paris to study cooking. She scanned the café where her dreams had been cultivated and realized in all these years Helen hadn’t changed the fifties decor.
Helen stood back from the counter, eyeing Rachel in her no-nonsense manner, placing her hands on her plump hips. “I’ll certainly say you don’t eat all that delicious food I hear you’ve learned to cook. You’re skin and bones, sugar.”
“I can always count on you to speak your mind. I’m glad some things haven’t changed in this world.”
Helen smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Hey, maybe you can show me one of your fancy recipes while you’re here. I hear that you do divine things with chicken.”
“I doubt there’s anything I could show you about cooking, Helen. The basis of all my recipes came from working with you at this café.”
Helen stared at Rachel with one of her probing looks. “I’m sure proud of you, sugar. I knew you had the talent and drive to make it big. Now I tell all my friends I know a famous chef who has been written up in some of those fancy magazines. You must have seen some pretty exciting places. I bet you’ve seen over half the world by now.”
“You know me. My home is where my suitcase is.”
“Sugar, that might be fine and dandy for some people, but for myself and most folks round here, being gone from Magnolia Blossom for more than a week is long enough.”
“Actually, if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be settling down in New York and opening my own restaurant soon.”
“Your own place?”
Excited, Rachel leaned forward. “I’ve got a proposal before some investors. If they agree, I’ll be working for myself.”
“When will you hear?”
“Hopefully in late July.”
Helen glanced toward the kitchen then at Rachel. “How do you think Amy and Shaun will like living in New York?”
Rachel frowned. “Given time, they’ll see the advantages of leaving Magnolia Blossom.”
“Then you’ve decided to leave for sure, even if the restaurant deal falls through?” Helen scrubbed a particularly clean spot on the counter.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. That’s what’s so frustrating. So much depends, of course, on whether I can open my own restaurant. I’ve dreamed about that for a long time. I’m not usually an indecisive person, but I don’t know the first thing about raising children.”
“Now, I’ve never had any children, but from all I’ve seen I’d say you take it one step at a time.”
“I suppose my first step is to call New York and see about the schools available for Shaun and Amy.”
Helen cocked her head. “The first step? Don’t you think the first step is getting to know them? It’s been pretty long since you’ve spent any real time with them. They have a full life here.”
“I know. Everything’s a mess.” Rachel sighed. “But my life isn’t here.”
“It was once.”
“No, it wasn’t, Helen. Magnolia Blossom was only another temporary stopover. Longer than most, but temporary just the same.”
“Well, sugar, I’m sure you’ll do what’s best for everyone concerned.” Helen started filling the saltshakers, her glance straying toward the kitchen several times. “You know I saved that magazine with your name in it. Let me see, what did that magazine writer call you?” She snapped her fingers. “The Cajun Queen.”
“Sounds like a riverboat, doesn’t it?” The second Rachel said riverboat, a vivid memory of Michael’s steamboat flashed into her mind and her resolve to forget their confrontation fled. She had instinctively known that if she paused for even a moment she would dwell on him, experiencing again the bittersweet emotions of seeing him. If she stayed in Magnolia Blossom for even a few weeks, she would be inundated with Michael Hunter’s presence. Could she risk stirring up old emotions?
“Maybe that’s what Michael should call his boat. ‘Course, it needs more than a new name. Several coats of paint. A new interior. I think he’s considering fixing it up.” Helen paused. “Hey, sugar, I’m sorry for bringing up Michael. I forgot that y’all were once an item.”
Years of experience had taught Rachel to hide pain and loneliness behind a mantle of deceptive calm, and she utilized that now. “Friends, Helen. That was all.”
“Sugar, I was there when you needed to talk.”
“He’s in the past where he belongs. We’ve both changed, moved on with our lives.”
Helen stared at her for a moment. “Can you honestly say your feelings for him are dead?”
After the scene at the riverboat, Rachel was left with no doubts about Michael’s feelings. “Yes.” She stood, her mantle of calm slipping. “I need to run. Thanks, Helen—for everything,” she whispered, her voice raw, her throat tight. For years she’d struggled to present a strong, invincible facade to the world, but right now she was having a tough time keeping it in place.
As Rachel hurried from the café, tears crowded her eyes. Again she was accosted by the scorching summer heat, but this time she left her sunglasses on to conceal her glistening eyes. Emotion felt like a coil wrapped about her chest, squeezing the breath from her. She inhaled deep gulps of hot air.
She didn’t usually indulge in tears. She hadn’t cried when she had been forced to leave friend after friend as her parents had moved from one place to another. She hadn’t cried when her mother had left her and Amy with Aunt Flora. But now she felt her world changing, her life in shambles. She experienced all over again the same hurt she’d felt when her mother deposited her with Aunt Flora. She remembered the confusion of falling in love with Michael while she wanted to pursue her dreams. In the end she had chosen to leave—that was the only thing she knew how to do.
At the only stoplight in town, she sat, indecisive about which way to turn. For one fleeting moment she wished she could turn to Michael as she once had.
* * *
Where was Amy? Rachel wondered as she stared at the kitchen clock. It hadn’t been that long ago that she had been sixteen, and yet Rachel felt generations apart from her sister. She had been trying to reach her younger sister, to get to know her better, but all she got for her efforts were pouts and Amy’s back as she stormed from the room.
Dinner was in the oven, ready for the past half hour. Rachel had been waiting for her sister’s return from no telling where. Amy hadn’t left a note. That would change the minute she came home, Rachel decided as she checked her Cajun chicken dish.
Rachel thought about eating without Amy, but she really wasn’t hungry and didn’t look forward to eating yet another meal alone. Earlier Shaun and Garrett had raced into the kitchen, taken one look at the meal she was preparing and fixed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to eat while playing computer games.
“Isn’t a family supposed to sit down to dinner and eat together?” Rachel muttered to herself, not knowing exactly what to do about the situation.
She poured herself a glass of iced tea. The sound of pounding sneakers filled the kitchen as Rachel shut the refrigerator door. Shaun and Garrett came to a screeching halt inches from colliding into her. She eyed the two plates in Shaun’s hand, happy this time they had made it to the kitchen.
“We’re going out.” Shaun started for the door.
“Where?”
Shaun shrugged. “Just out.”
“It’ll be dark soon. I want you back by then.”
“But all the kids can stay out later. Garrett doesn’t—”
“By dark.”
“How ‘bout nine-thirty?”
“By dark,” she repeated, her voice firm.
Shaun started to argue the point, took one look at her, and instead mumbled something under his breath—which she was glad she didn’t hear—and shuffled out of the kitchen with Garrett following.
Rachel watched them leave, her head pounding like their sneakers against the floor. As she massaged her temples, she thought about all the training she’d had to go through to become a chef. She had absolutely no training to become a parent. In only a few short days, the self-confidence she had painstakingly developed had been shaken to its very core.
On the patio, Rachel sank onto the thick red-and-blue cushion on the chaise longue and sipped her tea. Aunt Flora and she used to come out here after dinner and talk. Those had been special times. Her parents had always been too busy to listen. For the two years Rachel had lived with her aunt, she’d glimpsed what it would have been like to have been raised in a normal family, one that didn’t pick up and move all the time, one where both parents weren’t always working on research that was more important than their children.
The setting sun splashed the darkening sky with vivid colors. Rachel blanked her mind of all thoughts and relished the serenity that settled over the land right before the sun went down. Closing her eyes, she could still see the streaks of mauve, rose and gold weaving in and out of the blue tapestry.
As she let the beauty of the dying day seep into her mind, she relaxed her bone-tired body. Her exhaustion, combined with the humidity, cloaked her like a heavy mantle. A sound penetrated the lassitude that enveloped her. Amy was home. Even as that realization registered, Rachel knew she couldn’t face her sister just yet. She needed the restful tranquillity she felt at the moment to give her the strength to remain patient when dealing with Amy later.
The screen door opened then closed. Rachel sensed someone was staring at her and suddenly realized it wasn’t Amy or Shaun. Her eyes flew open, and she looked right into Michael’s face, devoid of all expression. Tension vibrated in the air between them as he stepped away from the screen door and closer to her.
“Hello, Rachel.”
She felt at a disadvantage, lying on the chaise longue, and quickly rose. “Hello, Michael.”
As if he needed something to do with his hands, Michael fitted them into the back pockets of his black jeans. Rachel followed his movements, mesmerized by actions that conveyed a smooth athletic prowess. Slowly her gaze trailed upward, lingering momentarily on the bulge of muscles beneath the short sleeves of his black T-shirt. His body was wiry, tough, every lean ounce of him sculpted with a male strength that transmitted leashed energy and supple command. When she finally looked into his dark brown eyes, her pulse sped through her. Memories of their past nibbled at her fragile composure.
“What brings you here?” she asked, thankful that her voice worked, desperate to think of anything but their past.
“I want to discuss Amy with you.”
Rachel stiffened and furrowed her brow. “Amy? Is she with you?”
“Yes, I followed her home from Whispering Oaks. She’s in her bedroom.”
Rachel started for the screen door. “Why was she at your house? Is something wrong?”
“No—yes.”
Rachel halted, her hand falling away from the metal handle. She turned, her gaze immediately drawn to his. “What’s wrong?”
As Michael moved toward her, Rachel automatically took a step away until she encountered the screen door. She tilted her head in order to look him in the eye, the gesture subtly defiant.
“Amy’s concerned about having to leave Magnolia Blossom.”
“Why didn’t she come to me about her concern?” Rachel asked, and silently wondered, Why did she have to go to you instead?
“I think you know the answer to that.”
The rough edge to his voice made her defenses go up. “But I’m her sister.”
“Who never came home.”
“This isn’t my home.”
“You’re right. I forgot that. You made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with Magnolia Blossom or…” His jaw clamped shut; his gaze hardened.
“Or what?”
“Me.”