A Father's Quest
“Absolutely not. I know crazy.” He paused. “But you are slightly cracked.”
Remy couldn’t say for certain whose scowl gave way to a smile first, but a second later they were both laughing. And a second after that, kissing.
She wanted to blame the Kraken—or the intensity of the situation—but she wasn’t a liar. She’d been thinking about kissing him from the moment he showed up on her doorstep.
He broke it off first. “Damn. I promised myself I wasn’t going to do that.”
“Me, too,” she said, touching her fingers to her lips. She’d kissed a dozen boys and men over the years but not a single one had left the sort of impression on her mouth that Jonas Galloway had.
I didn’t set out to write a nine-book series. In fact, the very idea probably would have left me paralyzed with writer’s block. But here we are at the ninth and final story in the Spotlight on Sentinel Pass series. In my proposal, I told my editor, oh, so casually, “And Remy’s story will probably lead us away from the Black Hills.”
That sounded logical and relatively simple in theory. But saying goodbye to my Sentinel Pass family hasn’t been easy. Luckily, I really liked Remy when I met her in her sister Jessie’s book,
Return to the Black Hills.
I wanted to tell her story, and it was clear her roots—and her heart—were in Louisiana.
When you meet Jonas Galloway, you’ll understand why. He’s the guy who got away—or rather was driven away by an outrageous and hurtful lie. Remy is poised to reinvent herself, and is determined to find a way to break free of the past and live her life fully. The last thing she wants or needs is a living, breathing ghost from her past showing up on her front porch to ask for her help in finding his missing daughter, Birdie. Help Remy can’t give him because to do so would prove once and for all that she’s a fake and fraud or, worse, that she’s become her mother—a woman who wasted her life waiting for a man she could never have. But Jonas refuses to take no for an answer. His daughter is in trouble and he’ll risk everything—even the love he’s tried most of his life to deny—to find her.
In researching Remy’s so-called gift—a facility for interpreting dreams—I learned a lot about lucid dreaming. Two websites in particular—dreammoods.com and lucidity.com—were helpful in understanding the brain’s processing of dreams and attributing certain meanings and symbolism to dreams. The brain is a fascinating, complex and relatively unmapped frontier.
Dream on!
Debra Salonen
after
she consulted a psychic. A coincidence? Perhaps, but the psychic also predicted that Debra would live to be eightysomething, she’d be healthy and happy and have grandchildren she would adore. Like Debra, you’ll have to wait awhile to find out about the eighty years part of the prediction, but the rest is…well, a dream come true. Visit her online at www.DebraSalonen.com.
1238—CALEB’S CHRISTMAS WISH
1279—HIS REAL FATHER
1386—A BABY ON THE WAY
1392—WHO NEEDS CUPID? “The Max Factor”
1434—LOVE, BY GEORGE
1452—BETTING ON SANTA
1492—BABY BY CONTRACT
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1516—HIS BROTHER’S SECRET
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1540—DADDY BY SURPRISE
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1564—PICTURE-PERFECT MOM
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1588—FINDING THEIR SON
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1633—UNTIL HE MET RACHEL
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1662—THE GOOD PROVIDER
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1698—RETURN TO THE BLACK HILLS
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1126—BRINGING BABY HOME
1139—THE QUIET CHILD
IRDIE
G
ALLOWAY WAS
good at hiding. None of the other kids were half as good as her. That meant when it was her turn to hide, the others would search and search and search but not find her. Then they’d give up and go play some other game without letting her know the game was over. She hated that. She told them they were lazy, but they were little kids. They didn’t listen.
Mommy called them gypsies because the Friends all drove motor homes or pulled campers behind their trucks. When she and her mother first joined the group, there were a lot of trailers. Now, there were only two.
“Hard times,” Mommy said. “Fewer donations. Less money for gas. Less of Thom to go around.”
Birdie wasn’t sure what that meant but she knew they were eating more cereal and beans now than when she and Mommy first ran away from home.
That’s not what Mommy called what they were doing. Mommy said they left their apartment in Memphis to answer God’s call. Birdie didn’t like thinking about God. He was big and scary. Birdie didn’t want God to call. The only person she wanted to talk to was her daddy, but the more they drove around, the more afraid Birdie was that Daddy might never be able to find her.
Mommy said they didn’t need Daddy anymore because they had Brother Thom and the Good Lord. But Birdie didn’t like Brother Thom. He never looked her in the eye the way her daddy did. He never picked her up or carried her piggyback. And he was the reason they were driving around so much. So he could spread the good word. But sometimes he said bad words. She’d heard him.
He was also the reason she wasn’t able to go to school. She missed school almost as much as she missed her daddy. Some days she was so sad it hurt to breathe. She’d play hide-and-seek alone so she could cry without anybody telling her to grow up or shut up or pray for forgiveness.
The GoodFriends spent a lot of time praying for forgiveness. Her mommy, too.
She turned her head to the side to listen for the other children. She should have known they’d never look under the motor home. Their mothers didn’t let them play near the vehicles, because some kid supposedly got run over before Birdie and her mother joined the Friends.
Birdie’s mother didn’t tell her where not to play. Mommy was sick again. Not throw-up sick; sad-in-her-head sick. She didn’t pay much attention to Birdie when she was sad-in-the-head sick, so Birdie could play any place she wanted.
But being under the motor home was getting boring. She yawned and was about to crawl out of her hidey-hole when suddenly the floor above her moved with a loud thud, thud, thud. A man’s footsteps.
Her heart started to beat faster. This was Brother Thom’s motor home. The one he shared with David’s mom, and sometimes one or two of the other ladies. Her mommy visited him here every once in a while, but not lately. A fact that made her mother sad. Mommy had been crying a lot lately, and nobody told her to shut up and pray for forgiveness.
Birdie knew she’d be in big trouble if someone heard her—especially Brother Thom. And she was certain he could hear her, since she could hear the musical jingle of his phone followed by his voice—a voice that reached to the very back of the big Sunday meetings tent without him needing a microphone. Mommy said that would have made him seem too common.
“What is it with you people? What part of I don’t have the money don’t you get?”
Birdie closed her eyes to listen better. She knew it was wrong to listen to private conversations, but Birdie did it anyway. Her daddy once told her, “You have to listen to what people mean, Birdie. Not just what they say.”
“Listen, asshole. I’ve sold everything we own. What am I supposed to do? Sell the children?”
Birdie swallowed hard. Her hands trembled and she nearly lost her grip on the dirty metal thing she was holding to keep from falling.
“Yeah,” Brother Thom said with a laugh. Not a happy-sounding laugh. “Well, if I thought I could get enough to be worth the bother, I might consider it. Even God wouldn’t fault me for dumping Cheryl. She barely lifts a finger around here. All she does is read the Bible and cry. She stopped taking her meds because she’s convinced God will heal her…through me, of course.”
Cheryl was Birdie’s mommy’s name. She believed Brother Thom was the SecondComing. Whatever that meant.
“And that kid of hers,” he added with a tone that made tears well up in Birdie’s eyes. “Don’t get me started. She’s like a ghost, always hanging in the background, watching and listening. A redheaded ghost.”
Birdie couldn’t hold on to the metal bar anymore. She slipped to the ground but didn’t move until she heard Brother Thom leave. She watched him walk to the cooking tent, where the mothers spent their afternoons.
She rolled out from under the trailer and raced into the bushes at the edge of the clearing. She didn’t go far. Mommy said the woods were full of alligators and poisonous snakes. Birdie crawled under a bush and curled into a tight ball, trying her best to keep her sobs as quiet as possible. But one word wouldn’t stay silent.
“Daddy.”