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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781497619111 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Open Road Media |
| Publication date: | 04/01/2014 |
| Series: | The Americana Series , #25 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 120 |
| Sales rank: | 188,137 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Janet Dailey, who passed away in 2013, was born Janet Haradon in 1944 in Storm Lake, Iowa. She attended secretarial school in Omaha, Nebraska, before meeting her husband, Bill. The two worked together in construction and land development until they “retired” to travel throughout the United States, inspiring Janet to write the Americana series of romances, setting a novel in every state of the Union. In 1974, Janet Dailey was the first American author to write for Harlequin. Her first novel was No Quarter Asked. She has gone on to write approximately ninety novels, twenty-one of which have appeared on the New York Times bestseller list. She won many awards and accolades for her work, appearing widely on radio and television. Today, there are over three hundred million Janet Dailey books in print in nineteen different languages, making her one of the most popular novelists in the world. For more information about Janet Dailey, visit www.janetdailey.com.
Read an Excerpt
Show Me
The Americana Series: Missouri
By Janet Dailey
OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1976 Janet DaileyAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4976-1911-1
CHAPTER 1
THE ASPHALT ROAD snaked along the ridge, writhing and slithering its way towards Dewey Bald. Here and there the trees fell away to allow a panoramic glimpse of the Ozark Mountains of Missouri. The sylvan hillsides were coloured in a myriad spring greens, from the deep hues of the cedars all the way to the pale greens of newly budding trees, an array as spectacular as autumn's bold splashes. The burgeoning world was highlighted by the mauve shades of the redbud tree and the symbolic white blossoms of the flowering dogwood, while the rock-strewn ground burst forth with an explosion of wild spring flowers.
'Can we stop at Sammy's Lookout?'
The small, questioning voice drew Tanya Lassiter's wandering gaze away from the road and scenery ahead of them. Her mouth curved into a smile as she gazed at the silently pleading blue eyes staring so earnestly back at her. Baby-fine brown hair covered his forehead, softening the effect of his pointed chin. No one else could have a little boy as beautiful and intelligent as her John, Tanya thought to herself with a warm glow of satisfaction. At seven, he was as impish and happy and curious as anyone would want their child to be. Who could remain immune to the entreaty of those trusting eyes that invariably reminded her of the clear blue colour of warm summer skies — so unlike Jake's, his father, whose eyes held the metallic sheen of blue steel.
'Can we?' John repeated.
'We can for a little while,' Tanya agreed. Her lips had tightened fractionally and she forced them to relax. 'But Grandmother will have supper for us, so we can't stay too long.'
There was no enthusiastic response from John, causing Tanya to glance wonderingly at his averted head. His thoughtful pose, as he gazed out the side window of the station wagon, arched one of her delicate brows before it settled back into place. Whatever was troubling John would soon be confided to her once he had methodically thought it through on his own.
Tanya was busy locking the car doors while John waited with thinly disguised impatience a few feet away from where the wagon was parked along the road. The pullover sweater vest matched the thin maroon stripe in her slacks with the complementing background of cream yellow in her long-sleeved blouse. Sliding out from behind the wheel and closing the door, she smoothed her hair into its band and hurried to join the slender boy in his light blue windbreaker and crisp blue jeans.
Together they traversed the few hundred yards back to the big grey stone overlooking Mutton Hollow and the trail that was nobody knows how old. They made a striking pair, one tall, lithe and feminine, the other exhibiting the vitality of youth in a masculine miniature. While John made straight for the large, slate-grey rock, Tanya sought the seclusion of a small boulder farther up the hillside. It denied her the view of the valley, but it hid her from the sight of passing motorists on the road just below. The traffic was mostly local now. The tourist jam would come with the summer sun.
The boy stood on the rock, gazing out over the scenery, his legs spread apart in a proud stance with his hands on his hips. In some ways, John was like herself. On the surface he possessed an outgoing personality, gregarious, fun-loving and always curious, but he, like Tanya, had those moments when he enjoyed being alone with his own thoughts. There were times when she felt that at seven years old John was too serious, too contemplative and too much in the company of adults, but with children his own age in school, there was never any reserve or any inability to relate to his peers. So she had marked her worry off to an over-abundance of conscience.
Leaning back against the slanting hillside, Tanya watched the sun slowly settling on the western slopes. The bright plumage of a male robin darted in front of her as he flew in attendance on his chosen mate. A surging ache rose from deep inside, shooting through her limbs until she wanted to hug her arms about her to ward off the pain. This was the natural mating season and Tanya recognized the inexplicable longing inside was the same desire for a mate of her own. She was a woman, a twenty-six-year-old female of her species, in need of a male to love, the simplest and oldest truth of life.
There was no vanity in recognizing her own beauty. And Tanya was beautiful. Long hair that hesitated between light brown and blonde with occasional natural streaks of shimmering honey was brushed straight back from her smooth forehead in a leonine style that was vastly becoming to her perfect features. There was a classic lift to her cheekbones and nose, and a warm, sensuous mouth that could transform the cool, marble beauty of her face into enticing witchery with a smile. But it was her tawny, gold-flecked eyes that kept the shutters closed on the smouldering passions that lay below the surface.
Nothing remained of the haunted, slightly vengeful young girl who had come to these hills over seven years ago with a boy child in her arms. The influence and example of her mother-in-law, Julia Lassiter, had erased the schoolgirl image and replaced it with a poised, sophisticated young woman. Only one thing remained, Tanya thought with carefully nurtured bitterness, and that was her loathing of Jake Lassiter, the man whose name she bore. The only saving grace of her marriage had been that she had John. He belonged to her and could never be taken away — as long as she remained married to Jake.
'Mother?'
The lids that had drifted down over her burnished tan eyes fluttered open. Tanya straightened to sit erectly as John settled on the ground beside her, a tanned hand plucking at the sprouting grass.
'Yes, John?' Tanya curled her arms around her knees and waited.
'Do I really have a father?'
Only for a second did the shock of his question register on her face. 'Of course you do.' Her heart thudded a little louder in her chest, but there was no other outward sign that his words had disconcerted her.
'I mean, is he really alive?' This time the troubled blue eyes stared into her face, earnest and searching.
'Yes, he's alive. You yourself have brought his letters from home from the mailbox. Whatever made you think that he wasn't?' Tanya tried to laugh lightly, but it came out shrill and without amusement.
'Danny Gilbert said he must be dead or in prison or he'd come home. He isn't in prison, is he?'
'No, darling, he isn't in prison. He's somewhere in Africa right now.' Her arm went around the slim shoulders, drawing the tense boy against her body, afraid he would see that she had no wish to talk about Jake Lassiter. 'He works for your grandfather, remember? And there's a big dam or bridge or something being built over there and your grandfather's company is supervising the work. Your father is over there making sure it's done right.'
'But why doesn't he ever come home? And why don't we ever go to visit him? Doesn't he want to see us?' The silky brown head pulled away from the hand that was stroking it to gaze in confusion at the frown creasing Tanya's forehead.
'He will come home some day,' she attempted to reassure him, but the very ambiguousness of her answer defeated her. 'He's very busy.'
'Everybody gets vacations. Why can't he take a vacation and come visit us?'
'He did do that once.' Not daring to add that Jake had ostensibly come home for a month's stay and had left after a week.
'I was a baby.' The child rebuffed her answer in a disgruntled tone. 'Three years old, Grandmother said. I don't remember him at all.'
'Have ... have you discussed this with your grandmother?' Tanya asked hesitantly. One more black mark would go against Tanya in her mother-in-law's book if he had.
'No.' John lifted his shoulders in an expressive little shrug. 'I only asked her how old I was when I got that ivory statue of an elephant. You told me my father brought it home to me as a present.'
Yes, Tanya remembered his question several days before, but had given it no special significance. A tiny sigh of relief escaped her lips.
'Can we visit him this summer after school is finished?'
'It ... Your fa ...' She stumbled desperately to find a way of refusing the request without adding more fuel to John's growing opinion that his father wanted nothing to do with him. It was there in the defeated dullness of his eyes. 'The political situation over there isn't such that we can.'
'I knew you'd say something like that.' The pseudo-adult bitterness in his voice lashed out at her with the smarting flick of a whip.
'Perhaps,' Tanya swallowed nervously, hating the suggestion that was forming on her lips, 'we could write a letter to your father tonight and see if he could arrange to come home for a couple of weeks this summer.'
A small hand brushed the silken brown hair away from his forehead as John turned to stare into her face, a half-hopeful expression in his eyes. Unwillingly, her gaze strayed to the crooked little finger, the mark that from birth had affirmed his right to the Lassiter name.
'Do you think he would come?' he asked.
Secretly she hoped he wouldn't, but the silent prayer that Jake would refuse died as she gazed into the boy's face. 'If it's at all possible, I'm sure he will, especially if you write to ask him.' Tanya had never tried to encourage any correspondence between father and son, unwilling to share John's love with the man she loathed. Only at Christmas time and birthdays did she prompt John to send a thank-you note for the packages that dutifully arrived in the mails.
'We'd better get home.' John hopped to his feet, a wide beaming smile splitting his face.
'John, just because we write your father,' Tanya spoke quietly several minutes later as she turned the station wagon onto the lake road leading home, 'there's no guarantee that he'll be able to come back to the States.'
'I know. But he will come, I know he will!' The determination in the small boy's voice reminded her how strong the bond was between a father and son. Much as she wanted to ignore her husband's existence, for John's sake she couldn't. 'Besides,' John went on, 'I've been thinking that maybe he thinks I don't care about him. If he knows how much I want to see him, he'll come home. I'm sure of it.'
'Well, perhaps if not this summer, he might be able to come in the fall or even at Christmas time. Don't build your hopes up too high, John. He may not be able to get away.'
'I wish he could come home now so Danny Gilbert could see that I really do have a father and that he really has been in Africa.' He glanced earnestly at her. 'Can we write that letter right after supper?'
'Yes, right after supper,' Tanya promised with a little sinking of her heart.
'And we'll send it airmail so he'll get it right away?'
'Yes, we'll send it airmail,' She nodded reluctantly.
'Uncle Patrick's car is in the drive,' John announced gaily at the sight of the silver El Dorado parked in front of the ultra-modern ranch-style home. 'It's been ages since he's been here.'
'Only a little over a week,' she corrected, her eyes sparkling too, at the sight of the familiar car.
Patrick Raines wasn't truly John's uncle, although he had called him that ever since he could talk. Now that Tanya's father-in-law, J. D. Lassiter, had gone into semi-retirement, going to his firm's office in Springfield only two or three times a week, Patrick Raines was head of the engineering firm in all but name. It was a feeling Tanya had that J.D. was keeping his hand in the operation until Jake returned to the States, at which time he would turn it over to his only living son. It had been her father-in-law's persuasion that had brought Jake home for an abortive stay four years ago. But no one had been immune to the chilling and hostile atmosphere that had surrounded Jake and Tanya. She hadn't been able to carry on a civil conversation with him, let alone be comfortable in the same room with him.
As she and young John walked on to the highly polished tiled floor of the foyer, Tanya felt her heart skipping a beat at the sound of Patrick's rich voice in the next room. John went dashing ahead of her, calling out a greeting to his grandparents and to the dark handsome man just coming into Tanya's sight. Her mouth curved into a welcoming smile under the warm regard of Patrick Raines.
'It's good to see you again, Patrick.' Her hand reached out naturally for his, enjoying the firm, lingering touch that reinforced the glow in his brown eyes. 'John commented when he saw your car that you hadn't been here for ages.'
'Then you did miss me while I was out of town,' his resonant voice declared with satisfaction.
Tanya was about to seize on his statement, having no knowledge that he had been away, when her mother-in-law broke into the conversation. 'We were beginning to give you two up for lost. Where did you and Johnny wander off to?' Only Julia Lassiter ever called John Johnny, and Tanya was sure her mother-in-law did it because Julia knew how it irritated her.
'We went on a little side trip that took longer than we expected,' she replied calmly, turning towards the woman firmly holding John's hand. Her gold-flecked eyes flickered over the aristocratic face with its framework of professionally dyed blue-grey hair, knowing Julia's avarice for a detailed account of their every movement. 'Is dinner ready?'
'We were just finishing our sherry before going in,' J.D. announced, unfolding his tall form from the velvet sofa and rising to his feet, an imposing figure of a man, like his son.
'Give us a few minutes to freshen up and we'll be down.' Tanya held out her hand for John and flashed a smile aimed generally at the trio, but resting a shade longer on Patrick.
In record time, she changed out of her slacks and blouse and into a well cut shirtwaister dress, the paisley pattern in carnelian red and rich navy blue. The confining hairband was removed and her tawny brown hair was brushed straight back from her forehead to fall around her long slim neck and shoulders to curl at the ends. The very simplicity of the hairstyle and dress bespoke sophistication and poise.
Tanya went immediately to the kitchen, knowing full well that Julia expected her to be there. The Lassiters could afford a maid or a cook or a gardener, but Julia Lassiter's home was her private castle. The work was either done by herself or under her watchful eye. The woman was perfect, Tanya decided grimly. There was nothing she couldn't do as well as the best and better than the average. Her meals were a gourmet's dream, but with a sufficient touch of the commonplace to satisfy her husband's palate. The house was always immaculately clean with never a smidgeon of dust hiding in any forgotten corner or almost inaccessible nook. The garden, an extensive and imaginative piece of work, was tended only by Julia, although she graciously allowed Tanya or her husband to do the more mundane chores of mowing the expensive lawn area. And her person she kept elegantly groomed, never a hair out of place, no smudging of lipstick; a loose button was unthinkable; and her slips never peeped out beneath the hem of a dress.
There was ample evidence Julia was not only a perfect wife and housekeeper, but also a mother. Never once did she question Jake about the gauche young girl he had brought home as his wife, nor commented on the baby boy he had identified as his son. Without the flicker of an eyebrow, she had carried out Jake's wishes that he and Tanya have separate rooms. Not one word of recrimination had been directed at Tanya when her son had left within a few days of bringing his bride home, nor in the years that followed when he stayed away. Yet Tanya had the distinct feeling that she was only tolerated in Julia's home because of John, who had become the centre of Julia's universe. Tanya always heard an underlying tone of acidity in her mother-in-law's voice whenever it was directed at her, and after all these years in the same house together, never once had there been a hint of affection or friendship to penetrate the cool reserve of Julia's grey-blue eyes.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Show Me by Janet Dailey. Copyright © 1976 Janet Dailey. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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