Come back to me. Please.
Come back…from this dream?
She listened but couldn’t hear his voice.
Carson?
A loud click echoed.
Was that the sound of a door closing? Where was it coming from?
Carolyn followed the sound and floated down the pathways of her mind. Doors of all sizes loomed before her.
One of these doors had to lead back to her current reality. She shouldn’t have retreated when they started jamming tubes in her nose and throat. But it was loud and painful—surely she wasn’t dead if she could still feel pain?—and she’d hidden in the shadows of her mind.
But now, the deeper into her mind she traveled, the lighter it’d become.
So many doors.
Then she noticed one door was ajar.
Maybe it was the exit? Could she escape her subconscious?
The door made no noise when she opened it.
She found herself in her mother’s bedroom, sucked back in time to early summer the year she’d graduated from high school.
The morning after the night she’d met Carson McKay…
“Don’t hover in the doorway, child, come in.” Her mother scooted over and patted the bed. “Sit. Tell me about the dance last night.”
Carolyn settled on the twin bed and reached for her mother’s hand. The arthritis had gotten so bad in the last couple of years her fingers were claw-like and almost useless. It killed her to see her mother bedridden, to see the listlessness in her eyes from the amount of medicine she took to deal with the pain.
But her stoic mother wouldn’t complain.
“Liebchen,” she said softly. “Talk to me.”
Liebchen. Her mother had always called Carolyn her little sweetheart—it was one of the few German words her mother still used.
She forced a smile. “Beverly took off with Michael about half an hour after we got there.”
Her mother clucked her tongue. “That girl is fast. Michael will get what he wants from her and move on.”
“Oh, I don’t know. He leaves for basic training at the end of the summer and as soon as he’s done they’re getting married.”
“Ach. She’s too young.” She shifted on the bed. “Did Beverly introduce you to anyone?”
The image of Carson McKay’s perfect face flashed in her mind and she felt her cheeks heat. His good looks aside, he was so much…more than the boys she’d gone to school with. The only trace of boyishness in him was in that dimpled smile and the devilry twinkling in his dark blue eyes. The rest of him was all man—wide shoulders, broad chest, strong arms, rough-skinned hands. An earthy mix of sun and soil and soap emanated from him; an irresistible musk that tempted her to rest her face in the crook of his neck and just breathe him in.
“You did meet someone.”
Carolyn blushed.
“What’s his name?”
“Carson. He’s a little sure of himself, but that’s probably because he’s so good-looking.”
“Did he ask to see you again?”
She finally met her mother’s gaze. “Yes. But I kind of ran off after…”
Her mother’s brown eyes sharpened. “Did he try something with you?”
“No. We were outside just talking—” you’ll go to hell for lying, “—and someone shouted to get his attention. That’s when I learned his last name is McKay.”
Silence.
Carolyn looked down as she traced the frayed ends of the yarn ties holding the eyelet and satin quilt together.
The air seemed to stretch so thin she had a hard time breathing. Finally, she blurted, “But don’t worry. I’ll stay away from him.”
“He knows…?”
“That my father is Elijah West? Yes.”
“How were things between you before you learned each other’s last names?”
She smiled, remembering the man’s audacity. “Carson told me he was gonna marry me.”
Her mother raised both eyebrows. “You mean he asked to marry you?”
“No. He said I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and we oughta skip all the dating stuff and get married.” She suspected he’d only been half kidding. Although Carson had seemed ready to run when she’d told him she was eighteen. But that kiss, that glorious kiss had changed his mind.
It’d changed everything.
She’d kissed a few boys over the years. Even if she’d made out with a hundred guys nothing could’ve prepared her for kissing a man like Carson McKay. Nothing. Carson was heat and passion. When he’d pressed his hard body against hers? She finally understood Beverly’s claim about need overtaking reason.
“Liebchen.”
Carolyn’s head snapped up guiltily. “Sorry. I know—”
“I think you’d like to get to know him better.”
“I can’t.”
“Nonsense.”
Shocked, she stammered, “B-but—”
“Whatever is between your father and Carson’s father is their issue. Not yours. Not Carson’s. You’re an adult. You’re allowed to make your own decisions. If you want to spend time with Carson? That is your business.”
“And what happens when Dad finds out? He might kick me out.”
“I won’t let that happen. I promise.”
Her mother had never stood up to her father. If Carolyn pursued something with Carson McKay she’d be totally on her own, with no support.
Like that’d be anything new.
Carolyn managed a fake smile. “I’ve found some patterns I’d like your opinion on.”
“Clothes for you?”
“Yes.”
“New clothes you can wear on your dates with Carson McKay?” her mom asked with a sly smile.
“Mom. Give it up.”
“Never. Now show me what you’re working with.”
Late Saturday afternoon, Marshall, Stuart and Thomas, Carolyn’s three brothers who still lived at home, traipsed into the kitchen.
“I love it when you’re home for the summer,” Thomas said, sniffing the air. “We get decent meals for a change.”
Marshall and Stuart each punched him in the arm.
“Ouch! I’m only telling the truth.”
“Truth is, you can’t cook worth shit, Thomas, so it’s worse for us when it’s your night to cook.” Marshall lifted the lid on the pot on the stove. “Sausage and cabbage smells good, sis.”
“It’s done. Wash up and we’ll eat.”