The Way Things Should Be Read online

  The Way Things Should Be

  Copyright © 2005 by Carrie Carr

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  Other Carrie Carr Books

  Visit Us On Line

  The Way Things Should Be

  by

  Carrie Carr

  Copyright © 2005 by Carrie Carr

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, trans mitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-935053-87-3 (eBook)

  eBook Conversion January 2012

  First Printing 2005

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design by Donna Pawlowski

  Published by:

  Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC

  3520 Avenue H

  Port Arthur, Texas 77627

  Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz

  Published in the United States of America

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank Lori L. Lake for her tireless editing and good humor; the folks on my email list for their continued support; my wonderful wife AJ for always cheering me on; and for my publisher Cathy, who still allows me to live my dreams through my books.

  Dedication

  To my Mom, who showed more strength this year through trying times--you're my hero.

  And to my wife, AJ, the woman of my dreams and the keeper of my heart. Forever and always, my love.

  The Way Things Should Be

  by

  Carrie Carr

  Chapter One

  HANDS, WRINKLED WITH age, gently patted the leather-bound picture album before tucking it away into a cardboard box. A quick glance around the room showed Travis Edwards that it was the final book to pack, so he climbed to his feet and dusted his hands across the thighs of his faded jeans. Still slender and active, and with his thick silver hair and neatly trimmed mustache, he looked closer to sixty-five than a man who had just celebrated his eightieth birthday. He placed the palms of his hands against his lower back and stretched his tall frame as a woman with faded blonde hair entered the room.

  The middle-aged woman handed him a large glass of iced tea, condensation already making the outside of the tumbler slippery. "Mr. Edwards, why don't you let me finish up in here?"

  "Thank you, Nancy, but that's really not necessary. You've had enough to handle with the other parts of the house. The least I can do is finish putting away old pictures for the move."

  Travis had recently returned to Dallas to pack up his personal belongings so that he could move back to Somerville to be with his family. His granddaughter Lexington had offered him a room at her home, but Travis's pride wouldn't allow that. Instead, he enlisted Lexington's partner Amanda to find him just the perfect house in town, which she did. It was a few short blocks away from Amanda's grandparents' home, and the four-bedroom house would be perfect for him and his housekeeper, who had agreed to make the move with him.

  He took a deep draw from the glass and sighed in relief. The look he received from his long-time housekeeper brought a smile to his face. "I know, I know. You're going to tell me again how I should have just paid for someone to do all of this, right?"

  Nancy shook her head. "Of course not, Mr. Edwards. That would be rude." She smirked with the familiarity of their years together. "But I did promise your granddaughter that I'd keep an eye on you and not let you overdo it." She waited until he drained the glass, and then took it from his hand. "If you'll go upstairs and rest for a little while, I'll make sure that these boxes are properly marked."

  Travis knew when he'd been beaten. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll just--" The ringing of the doorbell interrupted him. Before the housekeeper could take a step, he waved her off. "I'll take care of it. Probably one of the movers here early." With a smile and a wave, Travis stepped around a pile of boxes and headed for the front door.

  He opened the door and looked into eyes that somehow triggered painful memories, rendering him speechless. A moment later, the pain was replaced with confusion. Standing on the front steps of his home was a thin woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, with brown hair and eyes so light brown they were almost golden. Shaking off the eerie feeling, Travis attempted to smile. "May I help you?"

  Looking embarrassed, the woman brushed one hand through hair that barely reached her collar. Her clothes were clean, but she was obviously out of her element in the well-to-do neighborhood. A wrinkled denim jacket covered her black tee shirt, which was tucked into faded blue jeans. The scuffed white sneakers on her feet had seen better days, and she was carrying a dark green backpack over one shoulder. "Is this the Edwards' residence?"

  "Yes, I'm Travis Edwards. Is there something I can do for you, miss?" Travis felt vaguely unsettled at the woman's presence. Her features were familiar, although he couldn't place where he might have seen her before.

  Her face registered surprise at the owner of the grand house answering the door. "I don't know, Mr. Edwards." She let her hand fall to her side and mumbled, "This probably wasn't a very good idea."

  "I'm sorry, but if you're trying to sell me something, I'm really not interested. You see, I've got a lot of things to finish up today, and--"

  "No, sir, I'm not selling anything. My name's Eleanor Gordon, but everyone calls me Ellie." She reached under the collar of her tee shirt and pulled on a chain, which held a large gold class ring. "My mother is Naomi Gordon."

  Travis leaned forward. His heart began to pound when he recognized the ring. "Where did you get that?"

  Ellie lifted the chain over her head and handed the jewelry to him for closer inspection. "My mother gave it to me. She said it belonged to my father."

  "Your father?" Travis looked inside the gold band and read the engraved initials W.T.E. "This was my son's." His eyes met hers. "I think you should come inside so we can talk."

  She followed him inside, stepping past boxes and trying to take in the grandeur of the large house. A winding staircase took up much of the marble floored foyer, and neatly labeled boxes were stacked against the walls. As she followed Travis down a carpeted hallway, Ellie noticed the occasional expensive chair, or table, along the way. The farther into the home she got, the more nervous Ellie became. What had started out as a quest to find the other half of her family quickly turned into wanting to run away as fast as she could.

  Travis led the silent woman into the sitting room, one of the last areas left to pack. He motioned with one hand to the Victorian divan. Ellie promptly sat down on the edge, as if afraid it would break under her weight. She took the backpack that had been slung over one shoulder and placed it on the floor by her feet. Travis sat on the chair across from her and studied her slender form. Already small in stature, the way her clothes hung on her made Ellie appear as if she was in need of a few good meals. He looked up
as Nancy appeared in the doorway.

  "Mr. Edwards? Is there something I can bring for you and your--guest?" She cast a dubious glance at the woman seated on the divan, but her years of training wouldn't allow her to be rude. It wasn't in her nature.

  Travis looked away from Ellie, who stayed silent. "Oh, yes. Thank you, Nancy. How about bringing us some of those nice sandwiches and more tea? I believe that Miss Gordon and I have a lot of things to discuss." He waited until Nancy left the room, then turned his attention back to the young woman.

  Ellie's eyes were fixed on the battered leather encasing her feet. She could feel the older man's gaze upon her, but her nervousness kept her from meeting his eyes. The butterflies in her stomach were dive-bombing the candy bar she'd had for breakfast, and once again Ellie privately questioned her sanity for coming here. She jumped when Travis cleared his throat.

  "Miss Gordon, I don't want to appear nosy or rude, but would you mind telling me how you came to receive this?" Travis raised the ring and chain he still held in his hand, fearing if he loosened his hold it would disappear. "It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that--"

  "No, I understand." Ellie swallowed hard and forced herself to look into his eyes, which held no censure, only kindness. "A few months ago, I was helping my mother clean out her attic and found a bunch of old letters and pictures." Ellie bent over and unzipped her backpack. Rummaging through its contents, she retrieved a photograph, which she passed over to Travis.

  Although he had a good idea of what was coming, nothing could have prepared him for the emotional jolt that the old black-and-white provoked. His son, looking strong and handsome in his Army uniform, shared an intimate smile with the woman standing next to him. Neither one was looking at the camera, but it wasn't hard to see that they were very much in love.

  "That was taken the weekend before he shipped out. Mom says that she was already pregnant with me in that picture, although neither of them knew it at the time."

  "How long--" Travis's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "How long did they know each other?" It wasn't like Billy to hide the fact that he was in love. His son had always worn his heart on his sleeve and usually bragged to the world about his latest "true love."

  Ellie was uncomfortable with the fact that her appearance had upset the man in front of her. He seemed very nice, not to mention much too old to be put through such an extreme emotional shock. She mentally cursed herself for not thinking things through and for impetuously racing into the situation before getting all the facts. "I think they'd been dating for about a month before the picture was taken."

  Although the woman sitting before him was a carbon copy of his late son, Travis felt he had to ask the next question. "And your mother is completely certain that Billy was your father? Just because he had given her his school ring, doesn't necessarily mean they were in an exclusive relationship."

  "She was sixteen, Mr. Edwards. He was her first and her only until she married my stepfather five years later." Ellie pulled out another picture, this one in color. Standing at the beach in their bathing suits was an attractive family: a woman with dark hair and eyes with her arm around the waist of a man who was blond with light eyes, and an eight-year-old Ellie standing behind a toddler with blond hair that was almost white. "That's my brother, William. He's five years younger than me."

  "William?"

  "Yes, sir. My dad is a great guy, and it was his idea, according to my mom." Ellie accepted the color picture back from Travis, but allowed him to keep the black-and-white. "That one is for you, Mr. Edwards. I thought you might want to have it."

  Travis brushed the dampness from his eyes. He was saved from speaking by Nancy, who brought in a tray holding a plate of sandwiches, two glasses of tea, and a pitcher. When she saw how upset her employer was, it took all of Nancy's training not to go into attack mode. She put her hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Edwards?"

  "No, Nancy. Thank you." After Nancy left the room, Travis addressed his guest once again. "So, your mother never told you about your father? Why wait until now?"

  Ellie sighed. She had sometimes asked herself that very question. "Mom told me years ago that my father was killed in Vietnam, and that she didn't know of any living relatives. I never questioned it because Anthony, my stepdad, has always been an excellent father. I had no reason to want to look into my roots. But, like I told you earlier, when we found the old letters that your son had written my mom, I wanted to know more about him. So, here I am. All she knew was that he was from Texas, so I traced the school ring to Dallas." She didn't mention all the phone calls she had to make to find out where William was interred. She visited the cemetery to see the memorial stone, and she found where her grandmother had been buried. The headstone that bore her grandfather's name had no dates, which led her to hope he might still be alive. This was one of four houses left on her list of homes to check, and she was glad she had finally found the right Travis Edwards.

  "And you just dropped everything to come find me? What about your family, your job?" Travis held out an empty plate to Ellie, motioning that she should take it and a sandwich. At first she declined, but when she saw he wasn't going to give up, she took the plate and placed half of a sandwich on it.

  "Thank you." Ellie picked up one of the glasses and took a long drink, not bothering to sweeten the tea like she normally would. The cold liquid quenched her parched throat, and the shock of it hitting her empty stomach caused her to stifle a gasp. "My family understands my need to learn about my real father, Mr. Edwards. They don't like it, but they understand. They're back in San Diego, where I was born. As for my job, well, let's just say I'm on vacation." She stopped speaking and took several bites of the sandwich, trying to keep from looking like it was her first real food in days, which it was.

  Travis leaned back in his chair and watched the woman eat. She didn't gulp her food, but he could tell that she was definitely hungry. Her manners showed a good upbringing, and he could almost hear his beloved wife's voice telling him to quit treating their granddaughter like a stranger. "Eleanor? I'm sorry, may I call you Eleanor?"

  She nodded, then swallowed. "Yes, sir. You can call me Eleanor, or Ellie. Whatever you like, Mr. Edwards."

  "Excellent. But only if you call me Travis. And, maybe when you're more comfortable, you can call me Grandpa, or Grandfather, whatever you'd like."

  Ellie almost choked on her iced tea. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Thank you, Mister . . . I mean, Travis. I'd really like that."

  He smiled and stood up. "I'd like that, too, Ellie. Why don't you let me show you upstairs, where you can get cleaned up and maybe rest? I'm sure your journey from San Diego was a long one." Travis watched as Ellie eyed what was left of the sandwiches. "Why don't I have Nancy bring these up to your room?"

  "Thanks." Ellie reached down and grabbed her backpack, then stood up. "I don't want to put you to any trouble. I'm sure I could find someplace nearby to stay." Only she knew how bogus her offer was, since she had less than thirty dollars left in her pocket. But Ellie had made it this far without charity and was too proud to change her ways now.

  "Nonsense. I have more than enough room and plenty of places to sleep, at least until the movers get here. What are your plans now?" Travis led Ellie to the staircase in the foyer, where he took the steps slowly so as not to make her nervous. "I hope you plan on staying for a while, so that we can get to know each other."

  Ellie hadn't thought that far ahead. Her main goal, which was to meet more of her family, had been attained. Movers? That figures. I finally find my grandfather, and he's moving away. Seems to be how my luck runs. Now she was at a loss. She followed Travis up the stairs, all the while wondering where she was to go to from there.

  Chapter Two

  IN A CLEARING just beyond a deserted gravel road, two men stood in deep conversation. Both were dressed in dark suits, and the taller of the two scrawled notes on a
clipboard he held while the other chewed on a thick cigar and looked around. The occasional birdcall and the rustling of golden leaves on the trees were the only sounds around them, often punctuated by the scratching of pen against paper.

  Not used to the heat of the Texas fall season, cigar man unbuttoned his suit coat. He pointed through the trees to the north. "You say a spring-fed creek runs about fifty yards away? How much water are we talking about here?"

  The tall man looked up from the notes he was taking. "From the geologist's report, the main spring originates about ten miles away, but it's fed by several smaller ones as it travels south." Sweat caused his wire-framed glasses to slide down his nose, and he impatiently pushed them back up with one finger. His short, dark hair was plastered to his head, making him wish that he had left his jacket in the rental car that was parked on the other side of the fence. "Properly dammed, we could have a nice lake to the west of here within a year."

  "Good. Our employer has been breathing down my neck for months, Wilson. We need to finish up buying the land around here, no matter what the cost." Cigar man spit a wad of soggy tobacco near the other man's feet and tossed what was left of his cigar to the ground. "We're not going to have any trouble with this, are we?"

  Wilson casually took a step forward and crushed the glowing stub under the sole of his imported leather shoe. "Not that I'm aware of, Mr. Billings. Since the owner of the land defaulted on his payments so quickly, not many people know about the upcoming auction. It shouldn't take much of a bid to win."

  "See that we do. After that Montana fiasco, my ass is on the line." He took a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the perspiration from his face. His bald head gleamed in the morning sun, and he hastily ran the cloth across his crown. "I don't care what it takes. We have to get this land. Once we've secured this tract, then the rest of the area should fall into our hands easily." Billings reached inside his coat for another cigar and snipped off its end with a silver cutter. He took his time lighting the rolled tobacco, closing his eyes as the smoke rolled around in his mouth. A long moment later, his eyes reopened and he removed the cigar and pointed it at the man who stood across from him. "Nothing, I repeat, nothing better screw this up, Wilson. If my ass gets burned, you can be sure yours will be melted." He spat again, then re-buttoned the dark coat and stalked to the fence.