Trent Baker? Here in Whitefish?
Nothing could have prepared Libby for the onslaught of emotions she felt at seeing him againâeverything from shock, grief and anger to joy, hope and regret. Somehow Libby pulled herself together enough to get Trentâs daughter settled for recess.
On the playground the girls headed for the swings, while the boys clustered around a soccer ball, dividing into teams. Kylie, however, stood just outside the door, hands thrust deep into the pockets of her parka.
Libby approached the little girl. âItâs hard being new, isnât it? Everything seems unfamiliar. We all want to help you, though. Will you let us?â
The answer was a sniffle. Digging out a tissue, Libby helped dry her tears. When Kylie shyly slipped her hand into Libbyâs, a satisfying warmth traveled through her. This little girl was so desperate for love. But she was Trentâs daughter. Libby mustnât get too involved.
Throughout recess Kylie remained by her side. Libby learned a lot about her. But it was the girlâs answer to her final question that lanced the scar Libby had thought forever sealed. âWhy did you move to Whitefish, Kylie?â
The wistfulness of the whispered reply explained everything. âSo my daddy could be happy.â
Of course. Wasnât that just like the Trent sheâd been married to? His happiness, his comfort. That was all that mattered.
Dear Reader,
Timing is everything! My husband and I have often reflected that had we met in our early twenties, neither of us would have given the other a second glance. But how differently we saw ourselves and each other in our mid-thirties. Sparks! Fireworks! A whirlwind courtship! Huh? What happened?
Change, thatâs what, and a huge dose of the kind of wisdom one learns only through experience, some of it painful. One of those lessons is that a relationship, if it is to last, requires attention and work every single day! Love at first sight may just âhappen,â but successful marriages require commitment, compromise and effort.
In The Wrong Man, Libby Cameron and Trent Baker marry young, full of unrealistic expectations and burdened by pasts neither is willing to share. They have a great deal to learn about the importance of communication and trust, but before those lessons can be learned, they divorce.
Fast forward to the time when Trent moves back to northwest Montana and meets Libby again. As I said before, timing is everything. Sparks! Fireworks! A whirlwind courtship! But far more important is the fact that they see each other more clearly and recognize what it means to love and cherish one another.
I would be remiss not to thank the wonderful people we encountered during our stay in the Flathead Valley of Montana. Being from Arkansas I understand Southern hospitality, but the folks we met in Montana really know how to make a person feel welcome! And the scenery? Breathtaking!
Enjoy,
Laura Abbot
P.S. I love to hear from readers. Write me at P.O. Box 373, Eureka Springs, AR, 72632-0373, or check the Superromance Web site at www.superromance.com.
For Marcia, my âforeverâ friend, and Steve,
who has always been the âright man,â with love and appreciation for a lifetime of rare and enduring friendship
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHURNING WHITE-WATER rapids, treacherous black slopes, amateur bronc riding. Until recently, Trent Baker had dared much, accustomed to triumphing over obstacles. Nothing, however, had prepared him for the reality of being a single father.
âKylie, honey, youâll be late for school.â
âIâve got to find it, Daddy. Mommy said it looks pretty.â
Curbing his impatience, Trent slumped against the wall of the pink-and-white bedroom while his seven-year-old daughter emptied the contents of her musical jewelry box, hunting for the elusive barrette she insisted was the only one that matched her outfitâpink leotards and a purple-and-pink flowered turtleneck. Theyâd already searched her dresser drawers, the floor of her closet and the bathroom cabinet.
âHere it is!â She pirouetted to face him, her corn-flower-blue eyes alight. She handed him her hair-brush, then plopped onto her bed. âFix me.â
Her innocent words stabbed him. Doing his daughterâs hair was challenge enough. Other things, regretfully, went far beyond âfixable.â
Kylie sat quietly as he drew the brush through her straight, silky blond hair, so like her motherâs. Fumbling with the barrette clasp, Trent wished for the umpteenth time that little girls came with instruction manuals. His clumsy fingers could scarcely wrap around the purple plastic bow. âHowâs that?â he said at last.
She jumped up to inspect herself in the mirror. âItâs crooked.â
Trent sighed. Ashley would have done it perfectly. âGet your coat, honey.â
Her look let him know heâd failed as a hairdresser, but to his relief, she walked to the hall closet, where he helped her into her parka, careful not to disturb the all-important barrette.