shiver.
And what was he hiding in that old cabin? What was his big secret? With his reputation, she imagined it could literally be anything!
Oh boy.
She blew out a long, slow breath, absorbing the revelation.
She supposed when she’d argued with Mick, and when she’d allowed him to seduce her, she’d been thinking primarily of that boy she’d met at her dock as a teenager. Gruff, and from the wrong side of the tracks—or the lake, in this case—but that was a far cry from being a guy who really broke the law, who robbed places!
She bit her lip, wondering: Did you do that , Mick? Did you rob that liquor store with your brother? And what else have you done? Maybe she was lucky just to leave there unhurt; maybe a telescope was a small price to pay.
Except she still wanted that damn telescope—badly. Not to mention her star charts and the journal where she recorded notes on all her sky-sightings.
She unpacked a few more books, then found a spot to stack some of them—on the small bookshelf below the shrine to her mother. She stopped then, unwittingly kneeling before it, and stared up. Atop the waist-high shelving unit sat an array of framed photos of Judy Tolliver—some with Jenny as a child, others with Jenny’s dad or by herself. A Bible sat among the photos, as did a framed copy of the little tribute program from the funeral home given out to everyone who’d come to pay their respects that winter day eighteen years ago. Beloved Wife and Mother. God’s daughter. At rest now , in His arms.
Two dusty, never-lit pillar candles sat on candleholders at either side of the display, and above it all, on the wall, hung an enormous photo of Jenny and her mother when Jenny had been only five years old. Her mom had been a bridesmaid in Aunt Carol’s wedding and Jenny had been the flower girl, so in the picture they stood together before a grouping of pine trees wearing matching rose-colored dresses, with wreaths of pink rosebuds and baby’s breath adorning their heads. Jenny’s father had loved the picture and insisted on ordering one in gargantuan proportions, and it had hung in their living room ever since.
Of course, the rest of the shrine had come later, when Jenny was thirteen. While other girls had been worried about periods and first dances and crushes on boys, Jenny had juggled all that and her mother’s death from cancer.
Pillar of the community, always helping with this fund-raiser or that bake sale, if there was a cause in Destiny, Judy Tolliver could find it and fix it. She’d been a perfect police chief’s wife. When someone’s house burned down, Judy Tolliver had handled the clothing and furniture drive and made sure the family had a place to stay. When the school system threatened to take away music and art classes, Judy Tolliver had organized the PTA and the whole community to combat it. When a real estate developer tried to buy the land where the tidy little
Pinewood
Mobile
Home
Park
sat, ready to rush the mostly elderly residents from the only housing they could afford, Judy Tolliver had gone door to door with a petition, finally convincing the town council not to approve it.
But while the rest of Destiny had lost a kind, loving woman always ready to lend a helping hand, Jenny had lost a mother. Someone to talk to about school and boys and bras…and stars. Indeed, it had been her mom who had first introduced her to the mysteries and majesty of the night sky, who had bought her that first telescope—not much more than a toy, but it had been enough to turn Jenny into a hard-core astronomer at an early age.
And with a mom like Judy and a police chief for a dad, could Jenny have turned out any less than utterly pure and wholesome? She’d been taught to care about good and bad, right and wrong. She hadn’t drank underage, or had sex before falling in love, and to this day she’d never even smoked a cigarette. She’d been the ultimate goody two-shoes, willingly, all her life.
Until last
And what was he hiding in that old cabin? What was his big secret? With his reputation, she imagined it could literally be anything!
Oh boy.
She blew out a long, slow breath, absorbing the revelation.
She supposed when she’d argued with Mick, and when she’d allowed him to seduce her, she’d been thinking primarily of that boy she’d met at her dock as a teenager. Gruff, and from the wrong side of the tracks—or the lake, in this case—but that was a far cry from being a guy who really broke the law, who robbed places!
She bit her lip, wondering: Did you do that , Mick? Did you rob that liquor store with your brother? And what else have you done? Maybe she was lucky just to leave there unhurt; maybe a telescope was a small price to pay.
Except she still wanted that damn telescope—badly. Not to mention her star charts and the journal where she recorded notes on all her sky-sightings.
She unpacked a few more books, then found a spot to stack some of them—on the small bookshelf below the shrine to her mother. She stopped then, unwittingly kneeling before it, and stared up. Atop the waist-high shelving unit sat an array of framed photos of Judy Tolliver—some with Jenny as a child, others with Jenny’s dad or by herself. A Bible sat among the photos, as did a framed copy of the little tribute program from the funeral home given out to everyone who’d come to pay their respects that winter day eighteen years ago. Beloved Wife and Mother. God’s daughter. At rest now , in His arms.
Two dusty, never-lit pillar candles sat on candleholders at either side of the display, and above it all, on the wall, hung an enormous photo of Jenny and her mother when Jenny had been only five years old. Her mom had been a bridesmaid in Aunt Carol’s wedding and Jenny had been the flower girl, so in the picture they stood together before a grouping of pine trees wearing matching rose-colored dresses, with wreaths of pink rosebuds and baby’s breath adorning their heads. Jenny’s father had loved the picture and insisted on ordering one in gargantuan proportions, and it had hung in their living room ever since.
Of course, the rest of the shrine had come later, when Jenny was thirteen. While other girls had been worried about periods and first dances and crushes on boys, Jenny had juggled all that and her mother’s death from cancer.
Pillar of the community, always helping with this fund-raiser or that bake sale, if there was a cause in Destiny, Judy Tolliver could find it and fix it. She’d been a perfect police chief’s wife. When someone’s house burned down, Judy Tolliver had handled the clothing and furniture drive and made sure the family had a place to stay. When the school system threatened to take away music and art classes, Judy Tolliver had organized the PTA and the whole community to combat it. When a real estate developer tried to buy the land where the tidy little
Pinewood
Mobile
Home
Park
sat, ready to rush the mostly elderly residents from the only housing they could afford, Judy Tolliver had gone door to door with a petition, finally convincing the town council not to approve it.
But while the rest of Destiny had lost a kind, loving woman always ready to lend a helping hand, Jenny had lost a mother. Someone to talk to about school and boys and bras…and stars. Indeed, it had been her mom who had first introduced her to the mysteries and majesty of the night sky, who had bought her that first telescope—not much more than a toy, but it had been enough to turn Jenny into a hard-core astronomer at an early age.
And with a mom like Judy and a police chief for a dad, could Jenny have turned out any less than utterly pure and wholesome? She’d been taught to care about good and bad, right and wrong. She hadn’t drank underage, or had sex before falling in love, and to this day she’d never even smoked a cigarette. She’d been the ultimate goody two-shoes, willingly, all her life.
Until last
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