Janice Johnson - Charlotte's Homecoming

“Charlotte, I’m going to have to kiss you.”

Alarm kicked in at Gray’s words, and she backed up, feeling the rustle of leaves. “What?”

His laugh was gone, his eyes intent on her face as one long step brought him close enough to crowd her. “You’re gutsy about everything but me.”

“Maybe I’m just not interested.” She was dismayed to hear her voice emerge too high, betraying panic or desperation. “Did you ever think of that?”

“Hmm.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Why don’t we find out?”

She was dizzy, from the heat, from the thick air, from the frantic pace of her pulse. Would it be so terrible to find out what it felt like to be kissed by Gray?

Yes. She was terribly afraid that the answer was yes. But she’d never yet backed away from an accusation of cowardice, and she wouldn’t do it now.

Be honest. You don’t want to back away.

The author of more than sixty books for children and adults, JANICE KAY JOHNSONwrites novels about love and family—about the way generations connect and the power our earliest experiences have on us throughout life. A former librarian, Janice raised two daughters in a small rural town north of Seattle, Washington. She loves to read and is an active volunteer and board member for Purrfect Pals, a no-kill cat shelter.

Dear Reader,

Here’s one of those subjects fun to debate: are we the products of our childhood, or are we biologically driven to become who we are? Hmm. After raising two daughters of my own and countless litters of kittens (I’m an active volunteer with a no-kill cat shelter), I’ve come firmly down smack dab in the middle on the nature vs. nurture debate. Of course our childhoods influence us profoundly! And yet, there’s simply no question that children—and kittens—are born already predisposed to be timid or adventurous, thoughtful or impetuous, ready to be happy or suspicious of every new face. Twins, now … Especially identical twins … Shouldn’t they not only have the next best thing to an identical upraising while also being predisposed to have the same nature? But does it ever work like that?

Charlotte and Faith are not much alike at all. They share a powerful bond, and yet have spent years estranged because Faith desperately needs to be close while Charlotte, equally desperately, needs to know that she is unique. Only Charlotte’s homecoming will save Faith’s life … and free Charlotte to love.

Just like the lives of any twins, their stories are entangled and neither could be told entirely alone. So look for Faith’s book, Through the Sheriff’s Eyes, next month. Having two whole books to explore the characters and the men they love was great fun, too!

Happy reading,

Janice Kay Johnson

Janice Kay Johnson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my daughters, Sarah and Katie,

both smart, creative, caring young women

who make me proud every day.

FAITH WAS WAITING IN THE gas station parking lot when the Airporter pulled in. Charlotte saw her right away, leaning against her Blazer, almost as battered as Dad’s pickup, and for the same reason—it was a working vehicle. The fact that Faith—slender, graceful and feminine—would drive something like that suggested to Charlotte that she no longer knew her sister.

And why would she? It had been ten years since they’d graduated from high school and went off to college in different parts of the country, and they’d barely seen each other in all that time.

They both knew it wasn’t home Charlotte had been running from for so long. It was her sister.

For reasons she still didn’t understand, from the moment she was old enough to recognize that she was not unique, she had hated having an identical twin.

She’d rather not be here now, but she hadn’t been able to say no when her sister had called the day before. Faith had sounded … ragged. This was a woman who’d managed to look and sound serene to everyone, including her father and sister, during the two years her husband was emotionally and physically abusing her. It made Charlotte angry to this day that Faith had put up with so much for so long, and that she hadn’t told anyone.

When Charlotte had asked what was wrong, her sister gave a funny, choked laugh. “What isn’t? No, I shouldn’t say that. Dad and I are alive and … not well, but not dying, either.”

“You’re not exactly reassuring me,” she’d said.

“No. Char, the tractor overturned on Dad.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

“He’s … pretty badly hurt. Just bones and. I mean, he’ll be okay, he doesn’t have a head injury or major internal damage, but he’s in traction because one leg and his pelvis were just, um, crushed….” Faith’s breath hitched, and she fell silent. Charlotte could hear her breathing. “You know he hasn’t been himself since Mom died.”

Charlotte closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“I’m trying to keep the farm going, but with us in the middle of switching over to the nursery and gift shop and what have you, the only crop we’re raising for sale is corn.”

Charlotte knew that, too, but only because she’d been told. She’d last been home at Christmas, when the fields would have been mere stubble no matter what crop her dad had sowed the spring before. What Faith was telling her, Charlotte understood, was that the gift shop and nursery, both works in progress, were all that brought in any income—except, of course, for Faith’s salary as a kindergarten teacher.

“So I’m off for the summer, but …” Faith’s soft voice stumbled again. “I’m having a really hard time keeping up. And, well, I don’t know if I told you that Rory started coming around a few months ago.”

Rory Hardesty was Faith’s bastard of an ex-husband, a local boy who’d seemed to be the solid young man Faith sought until just after she married him. After the marriage was over, she’d confessed that his temper had begun to simmer within the first few months.

Charlotte tensed. “No. You didn’t tell me.”

“It’s not a big deal, mostly. He didn’t like the divorce.”

Faith was supposed to stay under his thumb and let herself be terrorized into submission.

“But it was final over a year ago.”

“I heard he dated a lot the first few months. I guess he figured he’d make me jealous. Lately, I think he’s drinking pretty heavily.”

“He comes over when he’s drunk? ”

“Not most of the time. Mostly he stops by pretending to be friendly. He says he’s sorry for losing his temper a couple of times. He’s expecting … hoping, I guess, that I’ll take him back.”

Faith had been reluctant to tell her the details, but Charlotte knew damn well that Rory had lost his temper a hell of a lot more often than a “couple” of times.

“But lately, I think he has been drinking sometimes when he comes by. He hasn’t exactly threatened me, but …”

Charlotte was gripping the phone so hard her fingers ached. “But …?”

Her sister said, very softly, “I’m scared, Char. Especially with Dad still in the hospital.”

And Faith alone at the farm, with no near neighbors.

“I don’t like to ask … I mean, getting time off work probably isn’t easy, and coming home isn’t exactly what you want to do with your vacation time, but …”

“I was laid off.”

This silence was startled. “You lost your job?”