Like Dandelion Dust & This Side of Heaven Omnibus

by Karen Kingsbury

Genres: Christian Fiction

Synopsis

Two of New York Times bestselling author Karen Kingsbury's most beloved novels are now available together in this expertly packaged omnibus. Like Dandelion Dust is a powerful novel about two parents, their love for their adopted son, Joey, and the surprising lengths they will go to keep their family together when a judge rules that Joey must be returned to his biological father. In the days that follow, Jack Campbell has a desperate and dangerous thought. What if they can devise a way out? Then they could take Joey and disappear...like dandelion dust. This Side of Heaven is a story of secrets, broken relationships, and a love strong enough to reunite a family. Annie Warren always wanted the best for her son, Josh. But years of failure and bad choices created a heartbreaking distance. When Annie sets out to defend her son, she might find a treasure more valuable than money, one she never expected, this side of heaven.

Release date: April 10, 2012

Publisher: Center Street

Print pages: 704

Sample

Donald, my prince charming, for believing that one day God would allow this book to be made into a movie, and for pushing me along the way to never settle for anything but excellence. I love you more with every passing day, and I thank God for your role in our family.

Kelsey, my precious daughter. The movie Like Dandelion Dust is only the beginning—I think you know that. I can’t wait to see how God uses you and your talents to help bring my stories to the big screen. I see you as one of the lead characters, using your gift to help the world experience stories that will change their lives. Keep moving toward the plans God has for you, sweetheart.

Tyler, my beautiful song. Your music fills our house and inspires me to write even on the craziest of days. One day you’ll be directing a movie based on one of my books. I truly believe that. How fun this journey is and will continue to be! Keep living for Jesus, Ty.

Sean, my wonder boy. You light up our home with the joy from your smile—keeping all of us well aware that we have every reason to laugh, and many reasons to be grateful. Thank you for your sheer optimism. I can’t wait to see what God will do with your life in the coming years.

Josh, my tender tough guy. This is the year you’ll enter high school, and I know you’ll make a huge impact on every sports field you play on. But more than that, I look forward to the impact you’ll make in the lives of your peers. Keep standing firm for what’s right, Josh. God has bigger platforms ahead with every turn.

EJ, my chosen one. This year you have become the one most likely to encourage a family day for the eight of us. I love that you have the most fun when we’re all together, no matter what the activity. God is drawing you out of that shy place where you once lived. The young man you are becoming is a delight to all of us!

Austin, my miracle child. You are growing up so quickly. It’s hard to believe you’re starting middle school. But what’s been most fun for me as your mom is watching you exhibit such leadership among your peers. At the last baseball tournament, they created an award on the spot just for you. They said anyone with that sort of character needed an award whether your team won or not. Keep being a leader for Jesus, Aus.

And to God Almighty, the author of life, who has—for now—blessed me with these.

This book couldn’t have come together without the help of many people. First, a special thanks to my friends at FaithWords who have worked diligently with the producers of the movie Like Dandelion Dust to make sure this version of the book came out in a timely fashion, and with the right cover art.

Also a big thank you to my agent, Rick Christian, president of Alive Communications. I am amazed more as every day passes at your great integrity, your talent, and your commitment to getting my Life-Changing Fiction™ out to all the world. You are a strong man of God, Rick. You care for my career as if you were personally responsible for the souls God touches through these books. Thank you for looking out for my personal time—the hours I have with my husband and kids most of all. I couldn’t do this without you.

As always, this book wouldn’t be possible without the help of my husband and kids, who are so good about eating tuna sandwiches and quesadillas, and bringing me plates of baked chicken and vegetables when I need the brain power to write past midnight. Thanks for understanding the sometimes crazy life I lead, and for always being my greatest support.

Also, thanks to my mother and assistant, Anne Kingsbury, and to my sister Susan Kane, for having a great sensitivity and love for my readers. And to my sister, Tricia Kingsbury, who runs a large part of my business life. The personal touch you both bring to my ministry is precious to me… thank you with all my heart.

Also thanks to my marketing assistant Olga Kalachik, and to my daughter, Kelsey, who helps with so much of the publicity and mailings that go out as part of our many donation programs.

And thanks to my friends and family who continue to surround me with love and prayers and support. Of course, the greatest thanks goes to God Almighty, the most wonderful author of all—the Author of Life. The gift is Yours. I pray I might have the incredible opportunity and responsibility to use it for You all the days of my life.

One night when I was putting the finishing touches on this book, Austin crawled up into bed next to me and stared at my laptop computer screen. “You know, Mom,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about writing books. I have a couple questions.” I smiled at him and asked him what he wanted to know. “Well,” he said, “you know those beautiful covers on your books? They’re so nice, with just the right colors and pictures, so do you do those? Do you make the covers?”

I shook my head. “No, buddy. I don’t have anything to do with the covers, really. The publisher has these wonderful designers. They take care of coming up with a cover.” He seemed a little disappointed for a few seconds. Then his eyes lit up. “I know, how about the design inside the book, the way the letters line up just so, and those little swirly things that make the first page of every chapter so nice.” He scrunched up his face, slightly baffled. “Do you do that part?”

Again I shook my head. “No, honey. Actually there are designers at the publisher’s offices who make sure the book looks nice on the inside.” My smile turned a little sheepish. “They’re the ones who do that.”

His shoulders sank, and after a slight pause his brow rose, hopeful. “I know, how about the bookstores! Are you the one who gets all those books to the bookstores, so they can be there on the shelves for the people?”

Feeling the clear sense that I was disappointing him, I shook my head and managed a weak smile. “No, Aus, I don’t do that, either. The publisher has a sales staff that handles getting the books to the bookstores. After that, other people at the bookstores open the boxes of books and put them on the shelves. I don’t have anything to do with that.”

“Wow.” He climbed back down, but before he ran off he shrugged his shoulders. “You don’t really do that much, do you?”

Austin has a point. No book comes together without a great and talented team of people making it happen. For that reason, a special thanks to my friends at FaithWords and Center Street who combined efforts to make This Side of Heaven all it could be. A special thanks to my dedicated editor, Anne Horch, who encouraged me often to stay with this story, however hard it was to write.

Also thanks to my amazing agent, Rick Christian, president of Alive Communications. Rick, you’ve always believed only the best for me. When we talk about the highest possible goals, you see them as doable, reachable. You are a brilliant manager of my career, and I thank God for you. But even with all you do for my ministry of writing, I am doubly grateful for your prayers. The fact that you and Debbie are praying for me and my family keeps me confident every morning that God will continue to breathe into life the stories in my heart. Thank you for being so much more than a brilliant agent.

A special thank-you to my husband, who puts up with me on deadline and doesn’t mind driving through Taco Bell after a basketball game if I’ve been editing all day. This wild ride wouldn’t be possible without you, Donald. Your love keeps me writing; your prayers keep me believing that God has a plan in this ministry of fiction. And thanks for the hours you put in working with the guest-book entries on my Web site. I look forward to that time every day when you read through them, sharing them with me and releasing them to the public, praying for the prayer requests. Thank you, honey, and thanks to all my kids, who pull together, bringing me iced green tea and understanding about my sometimes crazy schedule. I love that you know you’re still first, before any deadline.

Thank you also to my mom, Anne Kingsbury, and to my sisters, Tricia, Sue, and Lynne. Mom, you are amazing as my assistant—working day and night sorting through the mail from my reader friends. I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. Tricia, you are the best executive assistant I could ever hope to have. I treasure your loyalty and honesty, the way you include me in every decision and exciting Web site change. My site has been a different place since you stepped in, and the hits have grown tenfold. Along the way the readers have so much more to help them in their faith, so much more than a story with this Life-Changing Fiction™. Please know that I pray for God’s blessings on you always, for your dedication to helping me in this season of writing, and for your wonderful son, Andrew. And aren’t we having such a good time, too? God works all things to the good!

Sue, I believe you should’ve been a counselor! From your home far from mine, you get batches of reader letters every day, and you diligently answer them using God’s wisdom and His Word. When readers get a response from “Karen’s sister Susan,” I hope they know how carefully you’ve prayed for them and for the response you give. Thank you for truly loving what you do, Sue. You’re gifted with people, and I’m blessed to have you aboard.

A special thanks also to Will Montgomery, my road manager. I was terrified to venture into the business of selling my books at events for a couple of reasons. First, I never wanted to profit from selling my books at speaking events, and second, because I would never have the time to handle such details. Monty, you came in and helped me on both accounts. With a mission statement, “To love and serve the readers,” you have helped me supply books and free gifts to tens of thousands of readers at events across the country. More than that, you’ve become my friend, a very valuable part of the ministry of Life-Changing Fiction™. You are loyal and kind and fiercely protective of me, my family, and the work God has me doing. Thank you for everything you’re doing, and will continue to do.

Thanks, too, to Olga Kalachik, my office assistant, who helps prepare our home for the marketing events and research gatherings that take place there on a regular basis. I appreciate all you’re doing to make sure I have time to write. You’re wonderful, Olga, and I pray God continues to bless you and your precious family.

I also want to thank my friends with Extraordinary Women—Roy Morgan, Julie and Tim Clinton, Beth Cleveland, and the girls on the tour, along with so many others. How wonderful to be a part of what God is doing through all of you! Thank you for making me part of your family.

Thanks also to my forever friends and family, the ones who rush to our side whenever we need you. Your love has been a tangible source of comfort, pulling us through the various seasons of life and making us know how very blessed we are to have you in our lives.

And the greatest thanks to God. The gift is Yours. I pray I might use it for years to come in a way that will bring You honor and glory.

A special thanks to my Forever in Fiction™ winners whose character names appear in this book. I created Forever in Fiction™ as a live-auction item for charities. Every penny of the winning bid for Forever in Fiction™ goes to the charity that holds the auction. So far, more than $100,000 has been raised for charities across the country from people winning Forever in Fiction™ If you or your group is interested in the donation of a Forever in Fiction™ package, visit my Web site at www.Karen-Kingsbury.com. I donate approximately six of these packages per year.

As much as possible, I try to give my characters identifying features that correlate with the person for whom that character is named. Still, the Forever in Fiction™ characters in this novel are entirely fictional.

And so thanks go to the two Forever in Fiction™ winners whose names appear in Like Dandelion Dust. The first package was won by a group of friends at the Summit View Church auction. Anne Fraser, Jaymi Sutton, Vicky Dillon, Joan Smith, Barbara Seifert, and Michael Petty combined for the winning bid and presented Forever in Fiction™ to Beth Petty for her fortieth birthday. Beth is a wonderful wife, mother, and friend. She and her husband, Michael, have four children: Cammie, 14; Blain, 10; Braden, 7; and Jonah, 5. They have a female golden retriever named George Brett and a life that is full of love, laughter, and devotion to the Lord. Beth, your friends and family love you very much. They pray that this gift will remain as living proof of their feelings for you.

Also thanks to Kym Merrill, who won Forever in Fiction™ at the Discovery Church Women’s Christmas Brunch auction. Kym chose to honor her sister, Allyson Page Bower, by having a character named after her. Allyson, 45, is mother to Tavia, 21; Travis, 15; and Taylor, 7. She is also grandmother to Harley, 4. A hard worker whose sole focus is caring for and loving her children, Allyson loves digging in the garden and sitting on the beach, and is known for baking the best banana pudding in the state. Allyson, your sister loves you very much. She prays that you will catch a glimpse of that love in the honor of finding your name Forever in Fiction™.



Once in a while Molly Campbell wondered if other people saw it. When strangers passed by her and Jack and little Joey, maybe they could actually see a golden hue, pixie dust on the tops of their heads or a light emanating from the air around them, telling all the world what the three of them inherently knew.

That life couldn’t possibly be more perfect.

Sometimes when Molly walked through the Palm Beach Mall, hand-in-hand with four-year-old Joey, her purse holding a couple hundred dollars cash, two debit cards and a Visa with five figures open to buy, she’d see a tired-looking, disheveled man or an aging woman with worn-out shoes—hollow-eyed and slack-jawed—and she’d wonder what had happened. How had life placed these people in their separate worlds, and how had she and Jack and Joey found their way to the right side?

The good side.

Molly felt that way now, sitting at the Cricket Preschool parents’ conference, listening to Joey’s teacher rave about his progress in math and spelling. She held the hand of her quick-witted, rugged husband and smiled at Joey. “That’s what we like to hear, buddy.”

“Thanks.” Joey grinned. His first loose tooth—the one in the middle, upper left—hung at a crazy angle. He swung his feet beneath the table as his eyes wandered around the room to the dinosaur poster and the T. rex. Joey loved the T. rex.

The teacher continued, “Your son is charming, a delight to everyone.” Mrs. Erickson was in her sixties, silver-haired with a gentle hand, a teacher who preferred to use colored marbles or M&Ms rather than a stern voice and repetition to teach the alphabet. “He’s reading at a first-grade level, and he won’t be five until fall. Amazing.” She raised her brow. “He’s computing beyond his years, as well. And he’s extremely social.”

Then the teacher shared an anecdote.

One day the week before, Joey came to class a few minutes early, and there sat Mark Allen, a child with learning disabilities. Mark Allen was staring at his empty lunch box, tears streaming down his face. Somehow his mother had sent him to school without any food for snack time.

“I was in the supply closet,” the teacher explained. “I didn’t see what was happening until I returned.”

By then, Joey had taken the seat next to Mark Allen, pulled his Batman lunchbox from his backpack and spread the contents out on the desk. As the teacher walked in, Joey was handing the boy his peanut butter crackers and banana, saying, “Don’t cry. You can have my snack.”

“I can only tell you,” the teacher concluded, her eyes shining at the memory, “Joey is the kindest, most well-adjusted four-year-old I’ve taught in a long time.”

Molly basked in the glow of the teacher’s praise. She let the story play over in her mind, and when the conference was over and they left the classroom, she grinned at her husband. “He gets it from me, you know.” She lifted her chin, all silliness and mock pride. “Sharing his snack with that little boy.”

“Right.” Jack’s eyes danced. “And the social part.” He gave her a look. “He gets that from you, no doubt.”

“Definitely.”

“But the smarts”—he tapped his temple, his voice full of laughter—“that’s my doing.”

“Wait a minute…” She gave him a shove, even if she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “I’m definitely the brains in this—”

“Let’s go, sport!” Jack took hold of Joey’s hand and the two of them skipped ahead as they reached the parking lot. It was a beautiful South Florida May afternoon, cooler than usual, all sunshine and endless blue skies and swaying palm trees. The kind of day that made a person forget the humidity and unbearable temperatures just a few weeks away. Molly could hear Jack and Joey giggling about recess and playground rules and tetherball. As they reached their blue Acura SUV, Jack gave Joey a few light pokes in his ribs. “So, sport… got a girlfriend?”

“No way.” Joey shook his head. “Us boys have a club. The Boys Are Best Club.” He put his hands on his waist. “No yucky girls.”

“Oh… good. Boys Are Best.” Jack gave a few thoughtful nods. He opened the driver’s door as he pulled Joey close and gently rubbed his knuckles against Joey’s pale blond hair. “You boys are right.” He winked at Molly. “Girls are yucky.”

Joey looked at her and his expression softened. “ ’Cept for Mommy.”

“Really?” They climbed into the car. From the driver’s seat, Jack looped his arm around Molly’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Well…” He grinned at her. “I guess Mommy’s not so bad. As long as she stays out of the kitchen.”

“Hey!” Molly laughed. “It’s been a month since I burned anything.”

Jack raised his eyebrow at Joey. “Today made up for it. Flaming cinnamon rolls—that’ll go down in the family record book.”

“They shouldn’t put ‘broil’ and ‘bake’ so close together on the dial.”

Jack chuckled. “We shouldn’t put you in the kitchen. Period.”

“You might be right.” Molly didn’t mind her reputation for foul-ups at mealtime. Cooking bored her. As long as they ate healthy food, she had no interest in creating elaborate recipes. Simple meals worked just fine.

When they were buckled in, Joey bounced a few times on the seat. “Can we get pizza, huh? Please?”

“Great idea. That’ll keep Mom out of the kitchen. Besides”—Jack gave a pronounced tap on the steering wheel—“anyone who gets a perfect report in preschool should be allowed pizza.”

“Pineapple pizza?”

“Definitely pineapple pizza.”

As they drove to Nemo’s Deli a few blocks east of the school, a comfortable silence settled over the car. In the back seat, Joey found his library book, a pictorial on the Great White Shark. He hummed Here We Go ’Round the Mulberry Bush as he turned the pages. Molly reached over and wove her fingers between Jack’s. “So… isn’t it amazing?” She kept her voice low, the conversation meant for just the two of them.

Jack grinned, keeping his eyes on the road. “Our little genius, you mean?”

“Not that.” Sunshine streamed through the windshield, sending warmth and well-being throughout her body. She smiled. “The kindness part. I mean…” There was laughter in her voice. “I know he’s a prodigy in the classroom and a natural on the playground. But how great that the teacher would call him ‘kind.’ ”

“The kindest boy she’s seen in a long time.”

“And well-adjusted.” Molly sat a little straighter.

“Very well-adjusted.”

They were half-teasing, bragging about Joey the way they could do only when no one else was around. Then the smile faded from Jack’s face. “Didn’t you think it’d be harder than this?”

“Harder?” Molly angled herself so she could see him better. “Preschool?”

“No.” Jack gripped the steering wheel with his left hand, more pensive than he’d been all afternoon. He glanced at the rear-view mirror and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Adopting. Didn’t you think it’d be harder? School trouble or social trouble? Something?”

Molly stared out the window. They were passing Fuller Park on their right, a place they’d taken Joey since he came into their lives. Home was only a block away. She squinted against the sunlight. “Maybe. It seems like a lifetime ago.”

“When we brought him home?” Jack kept his eyes on the road.

“No.” She drew a slow breath through her nose. “When we first talked about adoption, I guess.” She shot a quick look at Joey in the backseat, his blond hair and blue eyes, the intent way he sat there looking at shark pictures and humming. She met Jack’s gaze again. “As soon as they put him in my arms, every fear I ever had dissolved.” A smile started in her heart. “I knew he was special.”

Jack nodded slowly. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “As my sister would say, he’s a gift from God. Nothing less than a miracle.”

“Your sister…” Jack chuckled. “She and Bill are about as dry as they come.”

“Hey.” Molly felt her defenses come to life. “Give them time. They just moved here a week ago.”

“I know.” Jack frowned. “But can’t they talk about something besides God? ‘God’s will this’ and ‘God’s will that’?”

“Jack… come on.” Molly bristled. Beth was her best friend. The two were eighteen months apart, inseparable as kids: Beth, the younger but somehow more responsible sister, and Molly, the flighty one, always in need of Beth’s ability to keep her grounded. For the past three years Molly had worked on Beth, trying to get her and Bill and their four kids to move to West Palm Beach. “Be fair.” She was careful with her tone. “Give them a chance.”

The lines around Jack’s eyes relaxed. “I’m just saying…” He raised his brow at her. “They’re uptight, Molly. If that’s what church does to you”—he released her hand and brushed at the air—“count me out.”

“The move’s been hard on them.”

“I guess.”

“Hey, Daddy, know what?” Joey tapped both their shoulders and bounced in his booster seat. “The Great White is as long as four daddies. That’s what the picture shows.”

The sparkle instantly returned to Jack’s expression. “Four daddies! Wow… how many little boys would that be?”

“Probly a million-jillion.”

They turned in to the restaurant parking lot. “Here we are!” Jack took the first space available. “Pineapple pizza coming up.”

“Jack…” Molly wasn’t finished. She winced a little. “I forgot to mention—” She already knew the answer, but her sister made her promise to ask. “Beth and Bill want us to come to church with them Sunday. They’re trying out the one down the street from the school.”

Jack leaned over and kissed her cheek. He kept his face a few inches from hers. “When Bill says yes to one of my poker parties, I’ll say yes to church.”

“Okay.” She hid her disappointment. “So that’s a no?”

“That’s a no.” He patted the side of her face. The teasing left his eyes for a moment. “Unless you want me to. If it matters to you, I’ll go.”

Molly loved that about Jack. He had his opinions, but he was willing to do things her way, always ready to compromise. “No.” She gave him a quick kiss. “We’re going out on the boat this Sunday. That’ll put us closer to God than a church service ever could.”

Joey was already out of the car and up on the sidewalk, waiting for them. Jack opened his car door and chuckled. “Well said, my dear. Well said.”

Not until they were inside the restaurant ordering their pizza did a strange ribbon of fear wrap itself around Molly’s throat. Their attitude toward church was okay, wasn’t it? They’d never been church people, even though Beth talked to her about it often.

“You need to take Joey,” Beth would say. “All children need to be in church.”

Molly looked at Joey now, golden-haired, his eyes adoringly on Jack as they considered the options at the pop machine. What they had was fine, wasn’t it? They believed in God, in a distant sort of way. What harm was there in finding Him at a lake instead of in a pew? Besides, they already had everything they needed.

Jack’s recent promotion had placed him in a dream job as vice president of sales for Reylco, one of the top three pharmaceutical companies in the world. He was making a healthy six-figure salary, overseeing top international accounts, and traveling half as often as before. They lived on a corner lot in Ashley Heights, one of West Palm Beach’s finer upscale neighborhoods. The three of them took trips to Disney World and Sanibel Island and the Bahamas, and they fished at Lake Okeechobee once a month.

Every now and then they spent a Saturday afternoon serving lunch at a homeless mission in Miami, and then they’d take in a play in the city’s art district. On weekdays, after dinner, they walked to Fuller Park with Joey and Gus, their friendly lab. There Jack and Molly stole kisses and laughter, watching sunsets while Gus ran circles around the playground and Joey raced to the top of the slide over and over and over again.

They kept an Air Nautique ski boat at Westmont Pier, and on most Sundays they drove to the white sandy seashore and cruised to the bay, where water was smooth and deep blue and warm. They’d take turns skiing, and Joey would sit in the back, watching, pumping his fists in the air when one of them cleared the wake. This spring, for the first time, they’d bought a pair of training skis for Joey. More sunshine and laughter, day after day, year after year.

These thoughts chased away Molly’s strange fear, and she found a window table where she could wait for her men. The uneasy feeling lifted. Why worry? The golden hue, the shining light, the pixie dust—all of it must be real. They were happy and healthy and they had everything they’d ever wanted. Most of all, they had Joey.

What more could God possibly give them?



Wendy Porter stared out the windshield and tried to slow her breathing. A cigarette. That’s what she needed—a strong, no-filter cigarette. She reached over and rummaged through her purse, past the Wal-Mart receipts and old tubes of lipstick and the pink cracked mirror. Beneath her wallet and the smashed breakfast bar she’d kept there for the past month. Through the crumbs and loose change that had gathered at the bottom. Where were they? She took her eyes off the road and gave a quick look into the purse. She still had a few Camels, right? The good kind?

Then she remembered, and she put her hand back on the wheel.

The smoke would cling to her pretty pink blouse and black dress slacks. It would linger in her freshly washed hair and ruin her minty breath. Five years had passed since her husband, Rip, had been a free man. She didn’t want to put him in a bad mood.

The news she had to tell him would take care of that.

Wendy tapped one slim fingernail on the steering wheel. So maybe it didn’t matter if she had a cigarette. She tapped some more. No, better not.

“Dirty habit,” Rip used to tell her before his arrest. Sometimes he’d snatch a cigarette from her lips and break it in half. “I hate when you smoke. It isn’t sexy.”

Not that Rip had ever been the picture of sex appeal. Last time they were together, he’d slugged her in the jaw while the two of them yelled at each other in the Kroger parking lot. The reason he was angry? She’d forgotten to clip the fifty-cent coupon for ground round. A police officer a dozen yards away saw everything and hauled Rip in for battery. With a list of priors, Rip was lucky to get six to eight in the Ohio State Penitentiary, out in just five for good behavior.

Wendy turned onto the interstate and pressed her high-heeled shoe hard against the gas pedal. It was four o’clock—almost rush hour. She had to make time while she could. A quick check in her rearview mirror and she switched to the fast lane. With any luck she’d reach the prison in half an hour. She and Rip had a lot to talk about. The last thing she wanted was to get things off to a bad start by being late.

She cracked her window and a burst of fresh air filled the car. Her mama had told her to leave Rip years ago. Way before the Kroger incident. And truth was, there’d been other guys in the past five years. A girl couldn’t sit home year after year waiting for her man to get out of jail. Even a man she was crazy about. She hadn’t been sure he’d even want to see her when he was released. Not until last week. The phone call came as she walked through the back door after church.

“Baby…” His voice was more gravelly than before. “It’s me.”

The call made her breath catch in her throat. She set down her Bible and the church bulletin and pressed the receiver hard against her ear. “Rip?”

“Yeah, baby.” There was a tenderness in his voice, the tenderness that had attracted her so long ago. “Did you miss me?”

“It’s… been a long time, Rip.”

He rarely called, hated having a long-distance relationship. At Wendy’s last visit, fourteen months earlier, he’d told her not to come again until he was released. Seeing her made the time