“I get out of prison tomorrow.”
Joanna held the phone away so Kirk’s reply couldn’t scorch her ear. Near the window, Sister Maria Teresa clutched her Rosary beads and beseeched the ceiling. Praying for patience, no doubt, Joanna thought. Either that or hoping for a last-minute miracle to reform the most reluctant student ever sent to set foot inside the Santa Maria Magdalena Colegio y Conservatorio de Arte y Musica. Joanna felt a small twinge of guilt. Poor old soul. She’d done her best; all the nuns had. It wasn’t that Joanna didn’t like them and didn’t appreciate the fine education she’d received in Madrid. It was simply that she was tired of being told what to do. No, ordered. Her guardian, Kirk Maitland, didn’t tell; he gave orders. And there were so many rules at the school that she could break one without even trying. Being a natural-born rebel hadn’t helped, either.
When the explosive response at the other end of the line died down, Joanna held her mobile phone back to her ear.
“I was hoping that four years of study abroad would tame you,” Kirk was saying.
“Tame me? Is that why you put an ocean between us? Because I’m not tame enough for Tupelo, Mississippi? Or was that dear old Trixie’s suggestion? No sooner had she pranced into Meadow Lane than you shipped me off.”
“Trixie had nothing to do with the decision, and you know it. I thought you wanted to study art at the Prado. Besides, the Spanish society is protective of young girls. I did it for your own good.”
“I’m not a girl; I’m a woman. And I’m smothering to death in good intentions.”
There was a long pause at the other end of the line. Joanna could picture Kirk, his gray eyes cool and alert, his dark hair short and neat, pondering the matter with the same intensity he brought to his board meetings. Kirk never did or said an impulsive thing—unless Joanna had provoked him to an uncharacteristic rage.
“Joanna, there’s no need for you to feel that way. We’ll discuss this matter when you get home,” he finally said.
She decided the time was right to break her big news, the main reason she’d called. “I have a problem, Kirk. But it’s just a small one.”
“You said that when you were in Morocco and gave all your money to a con man who passed himself off as a penniless camel driver trying to feed a hungry family. Somehow I don’t feel reassured.”
“That was two summers ago. This problem is not about money. For once in my life, my bank account is bulging with pesetas. My small problem is that I’m not coming home.”
There was a pregnant silence on Kirk’s end of the line. She could imagine him, planning his arguments, planning her future. She hurried on before he could get his thoughts organized. “Some friends and I are going down to Marbella. We’re going to bum around the Costa del Sol for a while, further our liberal education.”
“Dammit, Joanna. I worry about you. You’re a babe in the woods, a wide-eyed innocent who would give the shirt off your back to anybody with a sob story. What am I going to do with you?”
She chuckled. “Give me a credit card?”
“You’d buy New York.” She heard his resigned sigh, the sound of a man who knows he’s fighting a losing battle. “When are you coming home?”
“When my money runs out. A few weeks, Kirk. Maybe longer. Don’t worry about me.”
“Promise me one thing, Joanna.”
“What?”
“Be careful.”
She crossed her fingers behind her back. “I will. See you, Kirk.” As she hung up, she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about the lie. Being careful was the last thing on her mind. She’d had four years of being told what to do by the nuns. Before that, Kirk had watched over her. Not that she blamed him for being protective. She supposed it came from long habit.
She remembered the first time they’d ever met. She’d been three. The entire family had gathered at Meadow Lane to meet Aunt Sophie, her new husband, Kenneth Maitland, and her new stepson, Kirk. Grandfather Deerfield had been sitting in his favorite high-backed rocking chair on the front porch, sipping a mint julep, listening to Bach through his radio earphones and conducting the imaginary orchestra with dramatic waves of his hand. Joanna’s mother had been flitting in and out the front door, fussing over the refreshments, the flower arrangements and the deteriorating state of Joanna’s white pinafore. And Joanna had been clutching three buttercups to give to her brand-new cousin.
When the big moment came to give the flowers to Kirk, their pitiful heads had lolled on broken stems. Joanna had burst into tears. She would never forget what had happened next. Kirk had bent over her, patted her curls and told her he could fix them. And he had. When he’d taped the broken stems and closed her tiny fist around them, she’d fallen in love as fiercely as her three-year-old heart would allow.
Kirk had been fixing things for her ever since.
But she was no longer three; she was twenty-two and determined to do things her way—for once in her life.
“We will miss you, Joanna.”
Sister Maria Teresa’s voice brought her out of her reverie. Her English was nearly as perfect as her Spanish.
Joanna smiled. “I would have thought you’d be glad to get rid of me.”
Sister Maria Teresa laughed. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways. I think he used your liveliness to keep some of us old froggies on our toes.”
“Old fogies, Sister.”
“See what I mean? Who will correct my slang when you’re gone?” She surreptitiously dabbed at her eyes.
Joanna walked over and hugged her. “Maybe the Lord will send you another Southern rebel.”
Still trying to hide her feelings in laughter, Sister Maria Teresa walked Joanna through the cool stone corridor to the gates of the college; but Joanna saw the tears slide down her cheek and tunnel through the lines of her dear old face.
“I’ll write.” She said it on impulse, perhaps as a way to atone for all the mischief she’d caused.
“In Spanish, Joanna.” Sister Maria Teresa wiped her tears openly now, and tried to look stern. “You must keep in practice.”
“Si, tu amigo.”
Joanna gave her one last hug, then picked up her suitcase and walked through the gates.
o0o
From: Joanna
To: Clemmie, Belinda, Janet, Bea, Molly, Catherine
Re: Home
I turned the Costa del Sol upside down, and now I’ve got just enough money left for a plane ticket home, so I’m heading your way tomorrow! Give me a few days to settle in and soothe Kirk’s ruffled feathers and deal with that odious ex-wife of his – Trixie. What kind of name is that? It makes her sound like a Chihuahua!
Marbella was FABULOUS! I got a tan, flirted with a whole soccer team, and TOTALLY forgot about that Pig From Hell Fernando!!! See you soon!
Joanna
From: Catherine
To: Joanna, Bea, Clemmie, Janet, Molly, Belinda
Re:
Trixie sounds like a Siamese cat to me. They are so sneaky you can’t turn your back on them for one minute! Hang in there, Joanna. Lighting white candles for your flight!
I got a job offer at the vet clinic Mother uses, but I turned it down. I’m sure she engineered the whole thing! I’m still looking.
Cat
From: Belinda
To: Catherine, Bea, Clemmie, Janet, Molly, Joanna
Re: The party
A little delay works great for me. Reeve is taking me up to the Memphis Peabody for a few days – another of our honeymoon trips. We want to see if I can conceive in different surroundings. Wish us luck!
I met Trixie once at one of those fancy receptions Reeve and I occasionally have to attend. I thought she was a certified PILL!
Belinda
From: Janet
To: Joanna, Molly, Bea, Belinda, Catherine, Clemmie
Re: Stuff
Joanna, I’m glad that’s all you did with the soccer team! Fingers crossed for a safe flight.
Belinda, relax about the baby, okay! I know you want one of your own, but just enjoy Reeve and Betsy and Mark and let nature take its course!
I don’t know Trixie, but if she ever comes to my clinic, I’ll be sure to give her a shot with a big needle!
Janet
From: Molly
To: Joanna, Bea, Clemmie, Belinda, Catherine, Janet
Re: Trixie
I asked Daddy if he knows Trixie. He said yes, she was something of an over-achiever. Translated, that means she married Kirk for his money and probably divorced him for the same reason! Oh, he’s too nice for that!
Molly
From: Bea
To: Joanna, Belinda, Molly, Catherine, Clemmie, Janet
Re: The witch
Am I the only one who doesn’t know Trixie? I’d offer advice, but the chocolate cake thing turned out to be such a disaster, I’m keeping my mouth shut till I can see the witch for myself. Then, if you need help kicking her butt, I’m your girl!
Bea
From: Clemmie
To: Joanna, Bea, Janet, Belinda, Molly, Catherine
Re: Stateside
It will be so wonderful to have all the Dixie Virgins Stateside! We’re going to have a wonderful reunion, and I’m crossing my fingers that Trixie is not as bad as everybody thinks, Joanna. Oh, I hope not! I want your homecoming to be perfect!
Clemmie
P.S. I’m already making cheese straws for the party!
o0o
Joanna left Marbella on a sunny afternoon, flying with the sun, gaining time so that she arrived in Tupelo at dusk. When the plane touched down on Mississippi soil, she thought she’d cry. It had been four years since she’d been home, four years in exile—although an exile partly of her own choosing, she had to admit. After Kirk had married Trixie, Meadow Lane was never the same. Vacations and holidays, Joanna had chosen to travel in Europe rather than face the altered state of affairs at home. Even after the divorce two years ago she still hadn’t come home. She’d learned to love travel— seeing new places, meeting new people. The freedom had appealed to her, too. When she’d traveled she’d been a vagabond, with no nuns to tell her how long to wear her skirt and no guardian to tell her how late to stay out.
But now she was back. And she was glad.
Joanna picked up her luggage, rented a car and headed home. Home was Meadow Lane, the Deerfield family mansion set on a sloping green hillside on the outskirts of Tupelo. A lump came into her throat as she lifted her eyes to the huge white columns and wide verandas. It had been home to her since she could remember. Shortly after Aunt Sophie had married Kenneth Maitland, Joanna’s father, Roger Deerfield, had been killed in a freak accident. Her mother, Janet, being the flighty type, had mostly left her in the care of Grandfather Deerfield. He’d become her legal guardian, with Janet’s full approval; and at his death six years ago, he’d passed that job on to Kirk Maitland. Kirk had also been named executor of the Deerfield fortune. Meadow Lane had been left to his only grandchildren—Joanna and Kirk.
Looking at Meadow Lane now, remembering how it used to be when her parents were alive, Joanna felt the old hurt and bewilderment. She didn’t know what had prompted her mother to give her up, to leave Meadow Lane. She used to wonder if she’d done something wrong, something so bad her mother had to leave.
But she was home now, and nothing else mattered.
Joanna parked the rented Ford in the four-car garage beside a black Lincoln and a navy Oldsmobile. Steady, reliable cars. Just the kind Kirk would choose. Personally, she preferred flashy cars in bright colors, Jaguars and Porsches and Corvettes in shocking red and neon blue and even passionate purple. Slinging her Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder, she got out of the car and walked around to the front of the house. No wonder she and Kirk never saw eye to eye on anything. They were as different as Alaska and Arkansas—and just about as far apart.
She squared her jaw in an unconsciously rebellious gesture. She was a grown woman now, and she was determined to take charge of her own life. Guardian or no, Kirk Maitland might as well get ready to hand over the reins.
Opening the front door, she walked into the hallway, both guns blazing.
She found Kirk sitting in his study, door cracked open, apparently so absorbed in his work he hadn’t heard her come in. The first sight of him so captivated her that she barely noticed Rags, the little cocker spaniel, asleep near the hearth. Kirk looked older, she thought. But the gray at his temples and the fine network of lines fanning out from his eyes didn’t diminish his charm in the least. In fact, they only added to it. In four years she had almost forgotten that devastating charm.
Kirk Maitland always had been and still was the best- looking man she’d ever seen. As usual, he was well groomed and immaculate, every inch the successful businessman; but he was also fit and tanned, with enough muscle to show he was not desk-bound and not so much that he looked overdone, as if he could bench-press Texas.
Joanna hesitated in the doorway. The way he looked didn’t help her cause one bit. She’d been prepared to march straight into battle, but all she wanted to do at the moment was march straight into his arms—just the way she’d been doing since she was three years old. She sighed. Old habits died hard.
“I’m home.”
Kirk’s head jerked up. “Joanna!”
The intense pleasure of his smile almost made her forget her recent intention to declare war. He rose from his desk and strode toward her. At first she thought he meant to scoop her into his arms for a friendly bear hug, the way he always had, but when he was only inches from her, he stopped.
“Your hair.” He lifted his hand as if he meant to touch it, then let it drop to his side. “It’s different.”
Joanna raked her hand through her short red curls. “I’m too old for a ponytail. My freckles have faded, too.”
“I noticed.”
But he wasn’t noticing her freckles; he was looking at the way she filled out her blouse. Joanna felt a wicked glee at his obvious discomfort. It was high time Kirk Maitland knew he was dealing with a woman.
“I never had freckles there.”
He lifted his gaze with such alacrity she almost giggled. “Joanna, you always were the most exasperating female I ever knew.” He turned and practically stomped back to his desk. “Where are your bags?”
“In the car.”
“I’ll have Roger take them up to your room.” He pressed the intercom and gave his instructions.
She’d been home less than ten minutes, and already Kirk was making decisions for her.
“How do you know I’ll be staying in my room?” She never had any intention of staying anywhere else, but perversity and desire for battle made her ask.
“This is your home. Of course you’ll be staying here.”
“I’ll stay where I good and damned well please.”
“Where did you learn such language?”
“That school you shipped me off to. I can now cuss in four languages.”
She saw the beginning of his smile, saw him struggle to squelch his laughter. Oh, Lord, help me. Don’t let him laugh. She’d always loved the way he laughed, full-bodied, head thrown back. It was hard to do battle with someone who was laughing.
“Where do you intend to stay, Joanna?” The hint of laughter was gone, and that cool, calm manner of his was back. Joanna felt an urge to smash something. “You told me yourself that you’d be home when your money ran out. Even with your winning and enterprising ways, I don’t think you can find lodging without money.”
“I’ll think of something—tomorrow. Right now I have jet lag. I’m going upstairs to rest.”
She saw his face soften. His voice was soft, too, when he spoke. Gruff and tender.
“I’m sorry, baby. I know you must be tired. Welcome home, Joanna.”
She knew that tenderness would be her undoing if she didn’t take quick action. Never one to look before she leaped, she hurried across the room to him.
“You’ve always welcomed me home with a kiss.” Leaning over his chair, she kissed him full on the mouth. She felt his stillness, his resistance. She felt something else, too. The compelling power of him. It pulsed beneath her lips, an explosiveness that he kept carefully leashed. Excitement surged through her, and on its heels, bewilderment.
She had meant the kiss to be a victory on her part, a triumphant display of her womanhood and independence. Instead it threatened to be her downfall. She had wanted to shock Kirk, not set herself into a fine state of confusion. Quickly she pulled back and hurried from the room.
She marched up the stairs, taking a perverse satisfaction from stomping loudly on the steps. That was just round one. Her battle flags were at half-mast, and her big guns hadn’t even been fired, but her war for freedom was just beginning.
o0o
After Joanna left the room, Kirk sat, stunned, in his chair. He felt like a man who had been invited to a banquet and discovered that he was going to be the main dish. My God. Where had she learned to kiss like that? He’d had a hard time to keep from kissing her back.
Joanna knew very well he’d never welcomed her home with more than a peck on the cheek. Who had taught her that stuff anyhow? Some dangerous foreigner, most likely. Out to take advantage of her youth and innocence. He felt the urge to kill. A paternal urge, of course.
Forcing himself to calm down, he picked up the work he’d brought home from the office. It claimed his attention for two minutes then his mind was back on Joanna. He decided the best thing to do was take a day off from business so he could help her settle in and get her future planned. The sooner she was safely taken care of, the better off they’d all be.
o0o
Kirk was waiting in the sun room when Joanna awakened the next day.
She walked in, her smile as bright as the yellow sundress she was wearing. If he’d flown from Spain yesterday, he thought, he would still be dragging. Suddenly he felt old—and extremely conscious of the span of thirteen years that separated them.
“Good morning, Joanna. I assumed you’d sleep late, so I had Rose prepare brunch.” He nodded toward the glass-top table.
She slid into the seat across the table from him. “As usual, you’re taking care of me.”
That rebellious note he’d detected yesterday was still in her voice. It was uncharacteristic of Joanna. As a child she’d always had such a sunny disposition. But then, she was no longer a child. She’d made that uncomfortably clear yesterday.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“Yes.” Small talk, he thought. Something he and Joanna had never had to resort to. He watched her eat her meal. She had the healthy appetite of youth. Trixie had been like her in so many ways. Vivacious, fun-loving, full of laughter. And ten years younger than he. Theirs had been one of the shortest, most disastrous marriages in history. She’d said he stifled her, and he’d claimed she wanted to change him. Neither of them would give an inch.
He was glad that unlikely alliance was behind him. It was a mistake he never intended repeating. If he ever took the marital plunge again—which wasn’t likely, considering he was so busy with business—it would not be with a younger woman.
“You’ve grown solemn in your old age.” The twinkle in Joanna’s dark eyes told him she was teasing. “Or is your dark brooding due to lack of female companionship?”
Her sly little grin made him laugh. “If that’s your not-so-subtle way of asking if I keep a woman in my bed, the answer is ‘none of your business’.”
“I was hoping for a few salacious details. To further my liberal education, you know.”
Kirk thought her chuckle was positively wicked. And undeniably charming. He took a fortifying gulp of coffee and decided to change the subject.
“It’s time to talk about your future, Joanna.”
Her expression shifted from laughter to indignation, and Kirk felt a twinge of regret.
“That has all the appeal of a five-year jail term. You make it sound like I’m a new type of aluminum lawn chair you’re planning to market at Deerfield Manufacturing.”
“Nobody in his right mind would mistake you for a lawn chair.” He hadn’t meant his eyes to wander down her new curves, but they did.
“See anything you like?”
Kirk barely held on to his temper. “Who taught you such outrageous behavior?”
“Would you believe the nuns?”
“Joanna, what am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing. I’m going to do it all myself.”
“I’m your guardian, and the caretaker of your money until you’re thirty.”
“Or until I’m married.”
“Do you have somebody in mind?”
“You.” The answer popped out before Joanna could stop it. And she didn’t have any idea where it had come from.
Kirk gave her such a fierce look she felt as if she were melting inside.
“Good grief, the expression on your face is enough to make saints take to cussing. Stop scowling, Kirk.”
“I’m not scowling.”
“Yes, you are. And now you’re shouting.”
He turned toward the window as if he were taking strength from the unchangeable earth of Meadow Lane. When he turned back to her, he was maddeningly calm. He even took up his fork and ate a bite of ham before speaking to her again.
“You didn’t answer my question, Joanna. If you have in mind that bullfighter you were so crazy about, may I remind you that their glory is short-lived? He’d never be able to take care of you the way he should.”
“I discovered he likes pistachio nuts. I can’t abide a man who likes pistachio nuts. Besides, that was last year. I’ve gone on to bigger and better things:”
“Bigger and better? Joanna, I ought to turn you across my knee and spank you.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “I think that piece of ham is dead now, Kirk.”
“What?”
“You’ve stabbed it into submission with your fork. I think it’s safe to eat now.”
He put his fork down and leaned back in his chair. “Enough of this. It’s time to do some serious talking. Have you decided what you want to do with your life?”
He was asking this time instead of telling. Joanna considered that a good sign.
“There’s a big world out there, Kirk, and I want to see it all. I want to meet new people and discover new artists and hear great symphonies before anybody else even knows they exist. I want to grab life with both hands, and then when I’m old—over thirty-five—then I’ll think about my future.” She looked across the table and smiled.
“When you smile like that, Joanna, I swear I’d lay the world at your feet with the stars and moon thrown in for good measure.” He took a sip of coffee, giving himself time to stop being sentimental over her and put a little steel in his backbone. “I’m responsible for you. Travel is fine as a hobby, but not as a way of life. Grandfather Deerfield put his trust in me, treated me like his own flesh and blood. He and I often talked about your future. He wanted you to settle down in Tupelo, to become a part of Deerfield Manufacturing.”
“I’d smother to death in aluminum lawn chairs and patio tables and board meetings and balance sheets.”
“How do you know until you try it?”
“I know, Kirk. Trust me.”
“How about your art? Have you ever thought of teaching or opening your own studio?”
“No. I will not let you run my life.”
“I’m not running your life; I’m helping you make sensible choices.”
She felt her future slipping from her hands. As usual, Kirk was taking charge.
“You’re giving orders. I’m not going to bury myself in Deerfield Manufacturing and I’m not going to teach. I’m going to...” she hesitated only a second before saying the first place that popped into her head “...Siberia.”
Kirk was tolerant with Joanna only up to a point. He’d reached that point now. He stalked around the table and lifted her out of her chair.
“No, you’re not. You’re going to stay right here at Meadow Lane—” He broke off abruptly, his eyes burning fiercely into hers.
For a breathless moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Warning bells clanged, she heard the distant voice of reason. Joanna Deerfield and Kirk Maitland? Impossible. It would be like hitching a mountain to a tornado.
She drew herself up to her full height, tipped her head back and looked him squarely in the eye. “You can’t keep me here.”
“Yes, I can. You have no money. Remember?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t spend it on aluminum lawn chairs. I’d spend it on a buttercup.”
His face softened. “Joanna, be reasonable.”
When Kirk looked at her like that, she had a hard time being mad at him. But her future was at stake. Courageously Joanna summoned up a royal anger. It was the only emotion strong enough to get her past her own strange and bewildering feelings. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to do or say, but she was sure it would come to her.
“I’m not going to stay here and become a lady just because you and Grandfather planned it.” Her eyes sparkled as she got into the act. She enjoyed her rages the same way she did everything else, wholeheartedly.
“I’m going to be myself...” she hesitated, inventing as she talked, “.. .starting in Siberia... tomorrow. And after that I’m going to Marbella and Monte Carlo and Barcelona and... I might even join a circus.”
Kirk didn’t even try to hide his smile. “How do you propose to do all that?”
“I’m going to get married.”
Although she hadn’t planned to say such a thing, once she’d said it she was too stubborn to back down. Besides, the idea had its merits. She couldn’t think what they were right now, but she was sure she’d think of some later.
“My God, Joanna. You can’t just get married. You have to fall in love first.”
She waved her hands airily. “That’ll be easy. I fell in love with you at least fifteen times when I was growing up. It shouldn’t be too hard to find somebody to fall in love with.”
“You’re going to just pick somebody off the street and fall in love with him?”
“You don’t have to roar.”
“I’m not roaring.”
“Yes, you are.”
“People don’t get married on the spur of the moment. They meet somebody suitable and after a decent courtship they fall in love. Marriage is a lifetime commitment.”
“I don’t see old Trixie hanging around.”
“That was different.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Because you’re too young, Joanna.” He scowled at her, then his face softened. Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss on her cheek. “Be reasonable, sweetheart. You can’t just go out and drag some man to the altar.”
She flashed a smile at him as a new idea took hold.
“I don’t intend to do that. You’re going to find somebody for me. You’ve always fixed things for me.”
His grip tightened on her shoulders. “No. I will not be a part of this insanity.”
“Then I’ll find my own husband.”
Joanna jerked out of his grasp and whirled away from him. Her bare feet made smart slapping sounds on the tiles as she marched out of the sun room.
“Joanna, come back here,” Kirk yelled, but she kept on walking. She had already decided who her first candidate would be, and she didn’t have a minute to lose.
o0o
Kirk sat back down with the air of a man who had just experienced Pearl Harbor. He felt numb and rejuvenated at the same time. Furthermore, he couldn’t decide if the warm glow he felt in his stomach was ulcers or desire. God knew, Joanna was desirable enough to make saints turn in their crowns.
From long habit, he set out to analyze the problem. He loved a challenge, and he’d never yet seen a problem that didn’t have an answer. But as much as he racked his brain, he couldn’t decide what had just happened.
The sounds of Joanna drifted into the sun room; her voice lifted in sultry song, the slamming of the refrigerator door, a pregnant silence, then her heartfelt swearing. Kirk smiled. In the long run it really didn’t matter what he was feeling at the moment. There was no need even to try and untangle his own conflicting emotions. Joanna was the issue here; she had been entrusted to him.
Her happiness and future were of the utmost importance. He’d climb mountains, build kingdoms, slay dragons for her. She was special, and she needed a very special man, someone as witty and spontaneous and joyful as she. He’d watch over her, just as he always had.