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An emptiness seized her as she watched her father walk away from her and down the hall to his study. To Cassidy it felt like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Just like Tate.
Yes, Daddy, she wanted to shout out. Your congregation may need you, but so do I. I always have. Why can’t you see that?
Tears streamed down her cheeks as cold, hard reality hit her square in the face. Even though she’d prayed on it for the past eight years, in the eyes of her father she still remained unforgiven. He always preached about the Lord’s forgiveness—for adulterers, liars, thieves, murderers—but not for his only child, the one he should put above all others. Didn’t he realize she’d already paid the ultimate price by giving up everything that mattered when she’d left home?
* * *
“Sheriff Lynch?”
Tate jumped to attention as the voice of his deputy Cullen Brand drew him out of his reverie. He’d been sitting in his office gazing out the window, his thoughts centered around a gorgeous woman who’d owned his heart for as long as he could remember. No matter how far Cassidy had roamed from West Falls, he’d always considered her a part of the landscape. His hometown had never been the same without her. His heart had never been whole.
She looked every bit as beautiful as when she was crowned prom queen. Even more beautiful if he was being honest with himself. If he closed his eyes he could recall the exact shade of dress she’d worn that evening—lilac. With the rhinestone tiara on her head, a pair of dangling earrings and the strappy silver heels, she’d looked like a fairy-tale princess come to life. And he had been her Prince, her forever. Pain speared through him at the memory of all they’d been—happy, golden, innocent.
His love for Cassidy had been epic, the stuff of which dreams were made, and he’d believed they would go the distance and grow old together. He couldn’t have been more mistaken.
Stupid, romantic fool.
Thoughts of Cassidy dominated his mind, making it difficult to focus on work. Coming face-to-face with her after so many years had thrown him for a loop. He found himself replaying their conversation over and over again in his head. Had Doc been right? Had he been too hard on Cassidy at the diner? He’d battled a host of emotions this afternoon—anger, joy, bitterness, mistrust—so much so that by the time he’d left the Blakes’ home he’d been in a tailspin. Being at their house had been like taking a nostalgic walk down memory lane. It brought back bittersweet memories.
“What is it, Cullen?” he asked as he sat back in his chair and took the opportunity to give Deputy Brand the once-over. Cullen was a fine addition to the Sheriff’s Office, he reckoned. He was considered husband material by the ladies in town who seemed to have a fondness for his curly dark hair and laid-back approach. He stood five feet eleven inches tall with a leanly-muscled build and a sweet smile women found endearing.
Cullen was a good guy and an even better deputy, if a bit of an enigma. He was standing two feet away from Tate, shifting from one foot to the other and chewing on his lip. He was acting more skittish than a newborn colt.
“Sheriff, could I have a few words with you.”
Tate gestured toward one of the mahogany chairs. “Why don’t you take a seat. You look like you could use it.”
“I’d prefer to stand, sir.”
Tate almost choked. “Please stop calling me sir. It makes me feel ancient. Last time I checked we’re about the same age. Not to mention you’re one of my closest friends.”
“Sorry, Tate, er, Sheriff. It’s just that I always called Sheriff Keegan, sir.”
Tate swung his cowboy boots onto the desk and placed his hands behind his head. “Relax, Cullen. I’m sheriff of West Falls, but I’m not Joe Keegan. While I always want to command respect, I don’t want to instill fear.”
Joe Keegan had been sheriff of West Falls as far back as Tate could remember. He’d ruled the town with an iron fist that had most of the deputies in the department quaking in their boots. Although Keegan was respected, he hadn’t been very well liked. Tate had no desire to follow in his intractable footsteps.
“While you were out of the office we’ve fielded a few calls about... Cassidy Blake.”
Tate bristled at the mention of her name.
“Cassidy? What kind of calls have been coming in about her?” he asked, his throat as dry as sandpaper. A niggling suspicion began to grow inside him. No, it couldn’t be. Surely the people of West Falls had more sense than to dig up old skeletons.
“It seems word has gotten around that she’s back in town. Some folks aren’t too happy about it. They’re saying she was never brought up on charges for the accident that injured Holly.”
Tate slammed his fist on the desk, heat burning his cheeks as Cullen’s words sunk in.
“No charges were ever brought because it was an accident,” he protested. “She was all of eighteen years old, with a new driver’s license in her pocket.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Holly decided not to press charges because she knew it was an accident...a tragic freak accident.”
A tragic freak accident. It was amazing how passionately he could defend Cassidy when he himself had never stopped blaming her for Holly’s condition.
As if her ears had been burning, his sister barreled into his office without so much as a knock to announce her arrival. Once inside she swiveled her chair around and pushed the door closed with a loud bang. He watched her glance up at Cullen, then cast him a smile before she glanced over at Tate. With a look of grim determination she maneuvered her wheelchair right next to his desk. She met her brother’s gaze with wild frantic eyes. With a sinking sensation in his chest, Tate realized that the town gossips must have been working overtime.
Lord, please give me the strength to support my sister as she grapples with this news.
“Is it true what they’re saying, Tate?” Holly asked. “Has Cassidy really come back to town?”
Chapter Three
