Sasha's Dad

“Of course I do, Dad. But you have to admit you weren’t as close to Mom as Claire was, not when you were little or even my age.”

Dutch looked into eyes as brown as Natalie’s had been. When did this little button of a girl turn into a young woman?

“No. You’re right about that.” Claire had been a part of Natalie’s life forever.

Dutch kissed Sasha’s forehead. “You can go to Claire’s farm with me next time, but promise me you won’t get your hopes up too much.”

“Dad, I’m not going to force you guys to be friends or anything. I get it.” Her posture of maturity almost fooled him.

He knew Sasha didn’t really get it. Sasha didn’t want him to think she was playing matchmaker, but he saw the warning signs. She had no idea that once upon a time, he and Claire hadn’t needed a matchmaker….

Dear Reader,

Claire and Dutch’s story is one I’ve wanted to write for a while. So many people talk about their high school sweethearts, whom they still remember, still think of. I wanted to explore this concept, but from a different angle—Claire and Dutch each allowed the other to get away all those years ago. But not before they inflicted emotional damage on themselves and those around them.

Atoning for past mistakes and hurts is one of the hardest things we ever have to do. First we need to admit that we messed up, then we have to mend fences with the people we’ve hurt. Claire thinks she only has to make amends to her deceased best friend, Natalie, via her relationship with Natalie’s daughter, Sasha. But Claire learns that the first person she needs to make amends to is herself.

I enjoyed digging through Claire and Dutch’s emotional history and bringing the love they share today to life. I hope you find their story as mesmerizing to read as I did to write.

I use whatever places our Navy lifestyle takes us as my settings. In this book I enjoyed writing about the fictional town of Dovetail, Maryland. Our time in nearby Annapolis was great and we left with new friends, not something that happens every tour.

Keep reading and remember to cherish your friends—today.

Peace,

Geri Krotow

Currently living in Moscow, Russia, former naval intelligence officer and U.S. Naval Academy graduate Geri Krotow writes about the people and places she’s been lucky enough to encounter. Geri loves to hear from her readers. You can e-mail her via her Web site and blog, www.gerikrotow.com.

With love for my dad, Ed.

You were my first hero.

With thanks to Mary Sellers at Homestead Gardens in Davidsonville, MD—thanks for the day with the llamas, and all the wonderful information.

Thanks to the Bay Dale Walkers—Debbie, Cyndi and Jenn.

As always thanks to Mary B. and Patti M. for watching my six.

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

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

TEARS OF FEAR and frustration welled in Claire Renquist’s eyes as she swiped at her cheeks with her waffle-knit shirtsleeve. She knew there’d be long days and early mornings when she decided to start an agricultural business. But she’d never expected the gut-tugging angst that sideswiped her when one of her animals was in trouble.

Claire’s hands shook as she pulled out her cell phone and punched in Dr. Charlie Flynn’s speed dial. Her vet and family friend never let her down. When Claire moved back to Dovetail, Maryland, two years ago she’d asked Charlie to doctor her animals. He’d promised to come whenever she called.

She stood outside the modest barn she’d refurbished. Cell phone reception was better out here, away from under the thick oak beams. Although it was pitch-dark and cold for the middle of March, the full moon lit up the surrounding fields and rolling hills.

Claire stared numbly at the view and not for the first time wondered why she’d done it—not only moving back to Dovetail, but starting a llama farm. She’d been a political reporter, assigned to the White House press corps, for heaven’s sake. Her TV network had given her free rein and allowed her to follow the president wherever and whenever she wanted. And she’d been able to branch off if a story called for it, visiting some of the most far-flung places on earth. Today she had her pick of consulting jobs where she could name her own salary, which helped her fund the farm until it got on its financial feet—

“Dr. Flynn’s answering service. May I help you?”

“Oh, I was expecting Charlie.” She caught her breath and forced herself to think.

“This is Claire Renquist at Llama Fiber Haven. Can you please tell him I need him immediately? I have a dam in distress with a breech birth.” A long mewl came from inside the barn. “Tell him to hurry.”