The wedding was perfect. JT looked more like a tall Brad Pitt than the country music singer he was. Rose looked like, well, the picture of a healthy young woman in love with life. Her gorgeous red hair had been coiffed by Branson’s best, and crowned her glowing face as she strode down the aisle to the man of her dreams.
All in all, it was a classic wedding in a not-so-classic setting. Rose’s parents were pleasant enough when Samantha met them, though she knew it was only their reserved nature that kept them from making a scene. It was clear to Samantha they still didn’t approve of their new son-in-law, and probably never would. Not that it mattered to Rose in the least, a fact she’d made perfectly clear to her mom in Samantha’s presence.
Troy behaved with impeccable grace, to Samantha’s relief. He said nothing of the night before, or of his proposal. She wondered if he’d said those things in the context of finally getting what he wanted from her. Surely, he wouldn’t have stooped to relying on a pledge of faithful love and an expensive ring just to bed her. Would he?
The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that was exactly what he’d done. Maybe he’d only asked her to marry him because he felt guilty about lying to her well that and the fact both his parents and hers were pressuring him. Well, she’d show him a thing or two. Her parents, too. When they found her gone, perhaps they understand how horrible what they’d done was in her eyes.
* * *
By the time the banquet was in progress, Samantha had given more thought to her escape plan. Better to slip out now while everyone’s attention was on the wedding couple and the festivities. She figured she had at least an hour to go home, pack, and head south before she would be missed to the point that they’d start looking for her.
She’d have at least a day before the authorities could legally start a search for her as a missing person. By then, she’d have sent a message to her dad’s computer at the Herald office explaining what she was up to. She’d reveal part of her scheme, enough that they’d leave her alone. As for Troy, well, it was none of his damn business.
She waited for the traditional toasts to the bride and groom before excusing herself to go to the restroom. Sally and Ozzie were engaged in conversation with the bride’s folks and didn’t even notice she’d left the hall.
At home, she changed into jeans and a tee, leaving the bridesmaid’s dress on her bed for Rose. She packed all her casual clothes into the three small suitcases she’d rarely used since college. As an afterthought, she threw a couple of light jackets into the car.
Adding a cosmetics case and her computer to the full trunk of her S80, she left a note on the dining table, explaining that she would contact them in a few days to let them know she was okay and not to worry. She made it clear she wanted to be alone to think things through before making further plans for her future.
Her plan was to go by back road to Harrison, Arkansas. After a night’s rest there, she could use GPS to determine the path to her destination. Remembering the brochure she’d gotten months ago, she was sure she could talk her way into that private writer’s retreat in northeastern Texas. With contract offer and manuscripts in hand, she hoped they would welcome her with open arms. She had plenty of money, credit cards, gainful employment, and transportation. What more did she need other than a place to write in peace?
She’d seldom traveled in Arkansas, but her decision to use back roads kept her from going too fast. Besides, she was in no hurry now. She was determined to enjoy the trip. No more small town newspaper. No more untrustworthy boyfriend. No more meddling parents. Ah, yes, she’d enjoy the hell out of this flight to freedom!
* * *
Late in the day, caution kicked in just as Sam pulled into the motel on the outskirts of Little Rock. She thought of herself as a fugitive and therefore couldn’t afford to leave bread crumbs that would reveal her getaway path. She eased back onto the road and drove on in the night, looking for a small community and some nondescript motel. She had the cash, so there’d be no tracing her credit cards down here.
Just as she was about to merge with southbound Highway 71, she saw a likely place to stop for the night. Even better, there was a nationally franchised restaurant next door. For the first time all day, she had an appetite. Once she’d satisfied her hunger, hopefully, the motel would have a comfortable bed she could make good use of.
It did. The room was bright and clean, too. Within minutes, she’d showered and dropped between the sheets. Her last waking thought was of her life-long pal, and how she’d avoided Missy at the wedding. She felt a little guilty she hadn’t shared her plans with her best friend. This time, though, it wouldn’t have worked to tell Missy what she was about to do. And now, she didn’t dare correspond with anybody from home until she was settled.
* * *
Nobody noticed at first that Samantha hadn’t returned to the banquet table. After a half hour, Sally noted the empty chair beside Missy. Thinking it odd that Samantha would take so long in the bathroom, she looked down the table to see Troy chatting with JT and his bride. Samantha hadn’t gone off with her beau, so where was she?
A few minutes later, as the dinner was winding down, Sally tapped Ozzie on the shoulder. He turned to her, his face in a deep scowl. “You wondering where our daughter is, aren’t you, darling?”
“Yes. You noticed her missing, too?”
“I did. I figured she was out in the lobby talking to friends, but looking around, all her friends are in here. So where is Samantha?”
“I don’t know. But if she’s not coming back to wish the happy couple good health, I’ll have a word or two with her. That’s just not acceptable in my book.”
“Nor in mine. We raised our girl better than that. And that raises the hackles on my neck. What if she went outside and was abducted?”
“Surely not here in downtown Branson, Ozzie. I can’t imagine a thing like that.”
“Neither can I, but what other explanation is there?”
Sally shook her head. “I don’t know, but it worries me. Let’s go home and see if she’s there. Maybe she got sick or something.”
“I’ll give her a ring on my cell phone.” He pulled it out and used his speed dial. No answer and no ‘leave a message’ reply, either. Samantha’s phone was offline.
“No answer and her phone is off. That probably means she’s upset at something.”
Sally shook her head again. “Probably. I wonder what it is this time. Let’s go outside and see if we can spot her car. If it’s still here, she’s not too far away.”
They stopped beside the Silcoxes and shared their well wishes. Then they went out and scoured the parking lot. Samantha’s Volvo was nowhere to be found. Ozzie said, “She isn’t here, Sal. Her car’s gone. I’m going back in to see if by chance Troy knows anything. Then we’ll go home.”
* * *
Troy had spent the last hour worrying about Samantha. She’d been totally sweet during the ceremony and immediately after. Then she’d left him high and dry. When they went in to the wedding dinner, she’d deliberately seated herself on the other side of Missy, so he couldn’t talk to her. That hadn’t bothered him. She was still upset, and he’d begun to realize that she had a point. He and her parents had interfered in her affairs.
Still, he hoped she just needed a little time to cool down. But after she headed for the restrooms and didn’t return, he had a sinking feeling that something was amiss. Samantha wasn’t someone who would duck out on the wedding couple without a word of congratulations. Something was wrong.
Just as he started for the main door, he met Ozzie returning from outside. “Mr. Turner, have you seen Samantha?”
Ozzie shook his head. “No. I was hoping you’d have an idea where she went.”
“No clue. She seemed okay friendly during the ceremony, but pretty cool afterward. I think she’s still upset that she didn’t get to submit her writing herself.”
“So I heard from her mom. I think she’ll find it in her heart to forgive us.”
“I hope so. I asked her to marry me last night, and she said yes. But then she found out about contract offer and went ballistic. She didn’t keep, so I don’t know what to think. I hope we’re still a go, wedding-wise.”
Ozzie laughed. “A go, huh? I love the way you young folks phrase things these days. For what it’s worth, I sure hope you’re a go, too. Sal and I always figured you two would end up together. I know she’s always wanted a family.”
“Yeah. I want kids, too. Samantha’s kids. One or a dozen, it doesn’t matter to me so long as they’re hers.”
“Now that sounds like true love. First, we’d better find her, though.”
Troy followed the Turners home, hoping to settle things with Samantha. The house was unoccupied when they arrived. Sally returned from upstairs with a frown.
“She’s gone. Her bags are gone, along with some of her clothes. She left the bridesmaid dress for Rose to return. No note. No explanation where she’s headed.”
She began to cry as she dropped onto a settee, burying her face in her hands. Ozzie went to her, trying to comfort her as best he could. Troy stood across the room, watching and wondering what the best thing to do was.
He cleared his throat. “She’ll call as soon as she gets to wherever she’s going. I’m sure of it. We’ll just have to wait her out, I’m afraid.”
Ozzie turned to him. “You’re probably right. Samantha marches to her own drummer. I just hope she’s not marching over a cliff as we speak.”
“Samantha? She’s the most level headed person I know. No way is she going to do something stupid, Ozzie.”
“I hope you’re right, son.”
“Yes, sir. Anyway, if you want, I can take a drive and look for her. Surely, she’s around these parts somewhere.”
“That won’t be necessary, Troy. She’ll contact us when she’s ready. My guess is, she’s doing this to teach us all a lesson. And I must confess, I feel guilty for doing what we did. I should have handled the publishing thing differently.”
Sally wiped tears from her eyes and scowled at him. “You mean, we could have done it differently. It’s really my fault for sneaking a look at her writing in the first place. I should never have taken the liberty of submitting her work without her knowledge. I really did have the best of intentions.”
“As did I.” Ozzie shook his head. “Well, what’s done is done. Now we’ll have to wait for her to surface.”
Troy said, “I hope it’s soon. I need to tell her how much I love her, and make her believe it. I can’t wait to marry that woman.”
Sally got to her feet and pulled Troy into a bear hug. “We all want that day. And it will happen. Samantha loves you so much, she’d never even look at another man.”
“I hope not. Well, I’d best get on home, on the off chance she did leave a message there, I’ll call and let you know.”
They went out onto the porch to wave goodbye to him, standing arm in arm. He waved back and beat a path to his house, where he found no note. No message on the phone. Nothing. He didn’t have the heart to call the Turners with bad news. In the morning, he’d begin a search if she still hadn’t turned up.
* * *
It was raining when Samantha awoke. Not a downpour but a steady stream; the kind of rain Sally loved to have for her flowers. Her chest tightened as she thought about her mom. Tempted to pick up her phone and call, she held back. There were many more miles to put between her and her past before she sent any kind of message to anyone.
When she was ready, she’d reassure them she was okay. Would she also send word to Troy? Her breath caught in her throat as his image floated through her mind. The man she’d always loved, but one so bull-headed he made her want to scream. Yes, she’d send him a message all right. She knew exactly what she wanted to say to him.
Maybe, in a year or two, she’d regret what she was about to do, but it was what she had to do. No turning back now. And no regrets.
She returned to the same restaurant for a quick breakfast sandwich and then she was off. Sam headed south and west, again on secondary roads that required lower speed, but offered less chance of being spotted even in a car that was rare in these parts.
Her destination was near Tyler, Texas. A private little lake, with a dozen homes scattered along its shore. One home, a short distance from the entrance to the lake, was where she was headed. Built originally as a grand prize in a national contest, the photos showed several levels and lots of privacy for its residents.
Marybeth and Wilson Werner, who presently owned the place, were published authors in their own right. Older than Samantha by a couple of decades, they’d dedicated their lives to fostering good fiction writing. The retreat was a brainchild they’d developed over several years. To be accepted for residency, one had to have completed at least two manuscripts and have a viable chance at publication. She certainly fulfilled those requirements. The other one was that the resident had no obligations such as family. Well, she fitted that to a tee. Especially now.
She rolled into Tyler just past noon and took a slow tour of the town, getting her bearings. After a stop at a fast food haven, she located the road that led to the retreat and headed east. She’d picked up a few snacks when she’d stopped for gas earlier in the day. One thing she was not sure of was food arrangements at the retreat. It was several miles out to the lake, not too far but clumsy if you were one who wrote and ate simultaneously. She’d never done that, but thinking about it had an appeal all its own.
As she pulled onto the long drive, she tingled with anticipation, and a bit of apprehension, as well. She had the brochure on the seat, but what if there no vacancies. Dropping in unannounced was not the best way to handle this kind of thing.
Before she got out of the car, a middle aged woman who bore a strong resemblance to the woman in the brochure, walked up to the driver’s side of the car. Samantha lowered her window and smiled. “Hello. You must be Marybeth Werner.”
The lady smiled back. “Guilty as charged. And you are?”
“Samantha Turner. Samantha got out and shook hands. “I am a writer and I’m hoping you have an opening for me. I have the brochure you sent me last spring. Sorry I didn’t at least call you ahead of time but I’m here under unusual circumstances.”
“Kicked out of your home? Anything like that?”
“Not exactly. Let me explain and I think you’ll understand. But first, do you have any openings?”
Marybeth nodded, her smile brightening. “I already like you, Samantha. No nonsense, and you’re pretty as a picture, I swear. Yes, we have an opening at the moment. Did you read the part about the cost of residency?”
“I did, and I’m prepared to pay whatever you need. I just received a contract offer from a major publisher for my historical romance with an option for another three books, and I need a place where I can concentrate on getting them done. I have three completed, other than rewrites, edits, and such. The fourth is a work in progress, but not yet complete.”
“Well, you’re sure a lot further along than most of the folks who come here. We try to offer whatever assistance we can in getting’ your work accepted. Since you’ve already done that, you’ll probably want a lot of quiet time to work. Ya bring clothin’ with you?”
“Yes. I packed enough for a week or so. I figured I’d shop nearby for anything else I need. I did wonder about food.”
Marybeth laughed. “Food, I guess. We have two options on food. One, you can cook for yourself in your apartment. It’s fixed up with a small range and oven, sink, fridge, and a nuke box. Or, you can pay an additional fee, and good old Dub Dub‘ll cook the most delicious southern food you ever bit into.”
“Dub Dub?”
“My husband, Will. I’ll let him explain that one himself. Anyhoo, you’ll not starve while slavin’ away over your manuscripts.”
“Southern sounds good, though I’ve never been south of Missouri before.”
“Guess I shoulda asked where you’re from, Samantha.”
“My folks live in a little town near Branson. Flanders. Dad is editor and owner of the paper there and I worked for him as a reporter and assistant editor.”
“Your mom work?”
“No. Well, yes, at home she does. My parents are very traditional, so Mom keeps house and Dad earns the money.”
“Nothin’ wrong with traditional, dearie. They sound like very practical people.”
“Very. I love them dearly, but I’m closing on thirty and need some space.”
“Well, you’ve surely found it here. Why don’t I give you a quick tour of the place and show you where your apartment will be?”
“Sounds good. I’d like to get settled in today so I can begin writing in earnest tomorrow. Are there any formal classes you require?”
“We have classes. We don’t require you to attend ‘em. Mostly for beginnin’ authors who need to learn the basics of formattin’ and such.”
Samantha followed Marybeth into the house, marveling at the homey furnishings inside. The main room was a faux log-lined room with a huge stone fireplace and hearth as a focal point at the far end of the room. There were several chairs and settees around the room, allowing for more than one group to sit and visit.
Marybeth led her upstairs and showed her the loft, where there were three small apartments to one side, and a lovely master suite on the other. “These are occupied now. You’ll probably want to take the other unit for now, anyhoo. It’s out in the boathouse.”
“Boathouse? Really?”
“Yep. This place came equipped for a big family, with additional living quarters for family to come home from time to time. So, we use it for our own little writin’ family. Out there, you’ll have more space and a whole lot more privacy than in here. We all kind of end up in the main room in the evening. Of course, even if you live out there,” she pointed through a window to the boathouse, “you’re welcome to be part of our gang.”
“You have a lovely home here, Marybeth. Are your kids grown up?”
The woman’s face wrinkled into a painful image of sadness, her mouth turned down. “Only our writin’ kids. We were never able to have our own, so we dote on the young folks who come here to write.”
“I’m sorry. You sound as though you really wanted kids. I-I’m kind of engaged.”
“Hmmpf. Kind of engaged?” Marybeth glanced at her hand and then stared directly into her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re goin’ to bring your fiancé here with you.”
“Oh, no. I may not have a fiancé anymore, so that won’t be a problem.”
“You have a fight or somethin’ like that?”
“Something. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later if you want to hear it.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Her eyes twinkled. “But if you’re in the middle of a lover’s quarrel, this here’s probably not the place for you to be right now.”
“Nothing like that.” She hesitated, but saw the scowl on Marybeth’s face. “Oh, okay. I’ll tell you. My mom started it all, going into my room and finding my manuscript. She read it and I caught her in the act. She said I wrote beautifully and should send it off to a publisher. I wasn’t ready to do that, but she and my dad went ahead and sent it to one of his old college chums who is a publisher.
“The man liked it and sent me a contract offer. So I still haven’t submitted anything on my own, but I have a valid offer for four books.”
“Four?” Marybeth’s eyes bulged. “And that upsets you?”
“That, and the fact Mom let Troy read my work without my knowledge. I mean, who does that?”
“Troy bein’ your fiancé, I suppose. Well, young lady, that’s one I hadn’t heard before. But I assume you let ‘em know where you are, so you can get your work all polished up and sent off.”
Samantha lowered her focus to her feet. “Not exactly.”
Marybeth clapped her hands, cackling. “Lordy, girl. Have you just run away and not told them nothin’?”
“More or less. But I’ll tell them now I’m here.”
“Well, I should hope you do, though I don’t make it a rule of thumb to go messin’ ‘round a person’s private affairs. I just hope your young man’s the patient type.”
“Troy, patient? Not exactly.”
“Oh my goodness. Well, darlin’, it’s your life. I bet there wasn’t a dull moment when you were growin’ up, either.”
Samantha couldn’t help laughing, relieved to have shared her sad story with this positive woman. She’d bet there was not much that would rattle the likes of Marybeth Werner. Hopefully her husband shared her optimism. She figured she’d know soon enough.
Before she had a chance to respond to Marybeth, a tall lanky man strode into the middle of their conversation. “Did I hear somethin’ ‘bout a dull life?”
Marybeth guffawed. “You sure did. This little gal’s up to her ears in gettin’ away from dull. Came to us hopin’ to find a good hideaway from her boyfriend.”
Samantha turned on the older woman. “I did no such thing.”
“Easy, girl. I’m just funnin’ my hubby. Samantha, I’d like you to meet Will Werner. Will, this here’s Samantha Turner. “Well, Miss Samantha, howdy and welcome to our little abode. You a writer?””
“I am. Regency historicals, and I have a contract offer from a major publisher.”
“Congratulations on that. Not easy to get published these days, let me tell you. Beth and I work pretty hard to keep ‘head of things.”
“I know. From your brochure, I see that you’ve published twenty books between you. That’s pretty impressive.”
“Twenty four now, and we’re obligated for half a dozen more. One thing you should know goin’ in, it don’t get any easier after your first book comes out.”
Samantha nodded, wondering why Marybeth had given her hubby a stern look when he said that. “I can well imagine.”
Marybeth broke into the discussion. “What he’s tryin’ to say is, you can’t rest on your laurels. You accept a contract, especially one like yours, and you’re on a treadmill ‘til you fall off.” Turning to Will, she said, “Samantha here has got a contract offer for four books.”
His eyes shot open. “Really! That’s pretty impressive for a novice author.” Looking deep into her eyes, he added, “You did say you’re a novice, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t. But I am. My dad’s a newspaper editor and his college friend is Fred Upton, publisher of Bountiful Books.”
“Bountiful, huh? Holy smokes! I’ve never met Mr. Upton, but I’ve heard lots ‘bout him. Little lady, you may not know this either, but that man’s ‘bout as hard to approach as a unicorn surrounded by longhorns. You’re one lucky lady and we’ll do our best to help you reach your goal.”
“I appreciate that. Now then, I’d better get unpacked. I understand that you’re one fantastic cook.”
He grinned. “Yep. Best dern grub you’ll find this side of Tyler. Maybe points beyond that, too.”
Marybeth laughed again. “He’s funnin’ you now, Samantha.”
She smiled at the man. “What’s this I hear about you being called Dub Dub?”
He chuckled. “That there’s my nickname. Texas has already got one Dub so Marybeth here started callin’ me Dub Dub. Dub is for the initial W. I got two of ‘em, so…”
“Oh! I get it. That’s funny.”
“Marybeth thinks so, too.”
Samantha looked from one to the other and laughed with them. “I’m glad I came here. Thank you both for taking me in, and I’ll try not to disgrace you.”
Will winked at her. “Back at ya, Samantha. We’ll do our best to not disgrace you. You’ve got a foot in the door and, if your writin’ is as good as I expect it is, you’re on your way to some best seller lists.”
The blush caused her face to flush without warning, and a big lump formed in her throat. Just how big was the man her dad hooked her up with in the publishing world? From the reaction of this pair, BB Books must be big indeed. I guess I’ll know soon enough what I’m dealing with.