Excerpted from "The Search for Shannon:

Chapter One

The wheels of the 727 touched down with a bang onto the hot concrete runway at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, bouncing Andie roughly in her seat. Her face paled, her stomach churned, and she gripped the armrest, holding on for dear life, her knuckles turning white. She stared out the window, keeping her eyes focused on passing buildings and patches of green and brown landscape, trying to ignore the miserable flip-flop of her stomach and wishing she had reconsidered her mode of transportation.

What on earth ever possessed me to fly? she wondered. She despised flying and couldn’t decide what bothered her most — her extreme claustrophobia or her god-awful motion sickness.

“You know what they say, don’t you?” Andie’s seatmate spoke up, touching her gently on the arm. “Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.”

Andie glanced at him doubtfully. “If you say so,” she said, fighting the awful taste of bile rising in her throat. Unsteadily, she leaned forward and pulled her tote bag from beneath the seat in front of her. She watched the other passengers scramble into the aisle, eager to exit the plane into the welcoming arms of loved ones. She waited, letting the bustling crowd clear. She was in no hurry. There would be no one here to greet her.

She finally deplaned and walked through the busy airport in a daze, collecting her luggage and renting a car, then left the busy airport for an hour-long drive. Traveling the jammed roadways, Andie eyed the once-familiar Dallas skyline, staring at shining architectural monuments rising high into a hot Texas sky. “What am I doing here?” she asked. The overwhelming déjà vu of the city and its memories were depressing, and with each block, she grew increasingly blue. At last, she came to her exit and heaved a sigh of relief, steering the rental east onto Interstate 20, heading away from Dallas toward home.

She sped down the four-lane highway bordered by tall dry brush, lost in a nostalgic trance. How strange it seemed to be traveling this road again — the very same stretch of road that had been so dark and lonely on that August morning long ago.

Andrea Shepherd LaRue may not have been the most beautiful woman in the world, but she had been the loveliest girl to grace the halls of Eisenhower High School. Tall and blonde with long slender legs and eyes of ocean blue, at one time Andie Shepherd was the talk of her tiny Texas hometown. She had been a head-turner, sure to stand out in any crowd.

As smart as she was pretty, Andie was the owner of Crème de la Crème, a flourishing catering business. She had married once, but was currently single, having no desire to find husband number two. She had not had much luck with men and felt it best to honor the old philosophy: don’t play with fire if you don’t want to get burned.

Twenty years. It was hard to believe how much time had passed. At one time, she’d had it all: loving parents, a devoted big brother, a bubbly best friend, a high school sweetheart she adored. Life was good and her future looked wonderful, but it all disappeared one summer, gone forever in an instant.

Andie rolled down the window, letting in the morning sunshine and pulled the barrette from her shoulder-length hair, allowing it to whip around her face, carefree in the wind. I hate remembering, she thought unhappily. Blocking it out was so much easier. Remembering only made her heart ache, and lingering too long in the past was not healthy.

Her parents were gone. All that remained of her happy childhood was David, and even he was not the brother he used to be. Their relationship was strained at best. They were cautious, struggling to overcome a twenty-year rift.

Receiving the reunion announcement had been a fluke. It arrived in David’s mailbox six months after Andie made the call letting him know she was alive. David forwarded the engraved invitation to her home in Biloxi, writing on the outside of the envelope in bold letters, “You should go, Andie. Go to Texas, clear the air and let go of it once and for all.”

And now she was going back — to face her past, confess her sins, right the wrongs and come face to face with those she had left behind.

Andie exited the interstate onto a dusty two-lane road, recognizing the main streets of her tiny hometown as they came into view. Pine Prairie, Texas. Nothing much had changed. All the landmarks were in their proper places. The same houses, the same mom and pop stores downtown, triggering fond memories of a young girl. Reminiscing, Andie grinned broadly and drove slowly toward the edge of town.

She pulled into the gravel driveway and stopped in front of the house, going back in time as she surveyed the old Shepherd homestead. The two-story frame house sat on a grass-covered hill, shaded by ancient weeping willows and oaks. David hadn’t been able to let the house go any more than Andie could have, and had asked their old neighbor, Mr. Whitmore, to look after the place. He’d done a good job. The lawn was immaculately manicured and the weeded flowerbeds full of blooming daylilies, marigolds and petunias. The old house was freshly painted crisp white and the familiar wooden swing on the veranda swayed gently in the faint June breeze.

Killing the engine, Andie got out of the car and pulled her garment bag from the back seat. She hesitated, viewing the front door reluctantly, then fished through her purse for the key David had given her. She hated the gnawing loneliness welling inside her.

How I wish Mama were here to welcome me. I could really use a hug right now. But her mother’s embrace would forever elude her. Doris had been gone for years, and Andie hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

She slowly climbed the front stairs, her legs trembling, and sank onto the top step, too overcome with emotion to go any farther. This is so hard, she thought desolately, holding her head in her hands. Much harder than I anticipated.

It was this place. This house brought it all back, tearing down her defenses. All the events she had so stoically repressed returned swiftly from the dark recesses of her mind, bursting their shackles and flying at her full force. She winced, her temples throbbing from the images racing at lightning speed through time. And the images were not happy ones. Her last days in this house had not been pleasant.

No! she thought as her protective mechanism kicked in. I can’t think about this now. I have to get inside. Raking her hair from her face, she rose wearily from the stoop and crossed the porch to the front door. Slowly she turned the key and the old door opened, its hinges creaking loudly.

The familiar scent of vanilla candles and rose-petal potpourri drifted faintly above the musty smell of the closed-up room, rushing to Andie’s nostrils as she stepped over the threshold. She inhaled deeply, letting her senses take her back to eighteen, remembering with each breath how wonderful life had been for Andrea Shepherd.

She draped her garment bag over the banister and wandered down the hall, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the empty house. It felt strange to be there alone. Subconsciously she waited to see David appear from the kitchen, or to hear her parents call out to her from the den.

She entered the living room, plucking the drab white drop cloths from the furniture, and then opened the Venetian blinds, allowing bright sunlight to filter into the dark room. She stood very still, gazing slowly around the parlor, entranced, taking in every detail: the pale creamy walls, the antique lace drapes across the front bay window, her father Jake’s prized oil painting of the Alamo. Her eyes rested on photographs atop the ancient piano, encased in shiny silver frames, lovingly displayed by Doris. She walked lightly across the hardwood floor to admire them, taking one in each hand, smiling fondly at the grinning images of David and Charlotte’s children. Her mind drifted to her own son and daughter, the grandchildren Doris had never known.

Jerry and Dana. Her babies. They were so beautiful, each with smooth, flawless skin, dark hair and dark eyes. They were so much like their father. Andie could see very little of herself in her children. It was as if they were Freddie’s, and Freddie’s alone.

She hugged the pictures to her chest, sitting on the piano bench as tears flooded her eyes. “I was so stupid, so very stupid,” she sobbed, lifting her face to the ceiling. “Why is it that everything I do is wrong and every decision I make so foolish? How many times can one person screw up?”

She rocked back and forth, holding the pictures tightly, imagining the faces of her children as she cried. If only she could take back all the things she had said and done.

With a heavy heart, Andie returned the pictures to the top of the piano and left the room, collecting her bags and mounting the carpeted steps as she moved upstairs to unpack. She trailed her fingertips along the smooth wood of the banister, leaving a light path in the dust. Her eyes followed the textured walls of the stairwell, noting with wonder how very little had changed since the last time she had been there.

David’s room at the top of the stairs remained untouched, as did the pristine suite of Jake and Doris. Even her own bedroom had been caught up in this curious wrinkle in time. Andie paused in the doorway, viewing the eerie still frame from her past. Despite the hard feelings between them, Doris had left the room exactly as it was the day Andie left home. Beneath the picture window was her large brass bed, topped by a sunny yellow and blue quilt, her tattered old Raggedy Ann and Andy resting on pillows at the head of the bed.

The maple dresser was cluttered with hairbrushes, glass bottles of perfume and an assortment of framed photos featuring Andie and her best friend. She picked up the one closest to her, laughing when she saw the photo of two muddy nine-year-old girls captured one long-ago summer at Girl Scout Camp.

“Good old Tammy,” Andie said, holding the frame in her hand, staring at the freckled-faced girls in the snapshot, their snaggle-toothed grins returning her smile. Tall and lanky with a shock of bouncy sable curls, Tammy Whitworth had been Andie’s best friend since first grade. She was a basketball-playing tomboy with a life-long dream to coach, and she left Pine Prairie after high school to attend the University of Texas and major in secondary education.

“God only knows what I’ll teach,” Tammy had said, gruff and cynical. “Although I don’t really care. My only ambition is to shoot hoops and pass my talent on to the deserving youth of Texas.”

Grinning, Andie returned the picture to the dresser and moved toward the closet to hang her garment bag. Until now, she hadn’t been sure whom to contact first. Seeing the photograph made the decision easier. Tammy would be the first to learn the truth.

After another sentimental journey through town, Andie located Tammy at the YMCA, coaching summer basketball camp. Leaving her car on the far side of the parking lot, Andie strolled casually across the hot blacktop toward the basketball goals, watching Tammy referee a pack of preteen boys.

Time had been kind to her best friend, leaving her unwrinkled and youthful in gray jersey gym shorts and white T-shirt, her muscular legs shapely and lightly tanned as she ran up and down the court, clapping her hands and bellowing encouragement to her players.

“Shoot, Danny, shoot!” Tammy screamed, her mouth twisting into a grin as the scrawny young boy tossed the ball through the net. “Good job, boy, good job!” She clapped her hands and lifted her silver whistle, blowing it shrilly. “Take five, everybody, take five.”

Andie paused beside the basketball court, hooking her fingers through the chain-link fence. Smiling broadly, she watched as Tammy grabbed her water bottle and whipped the kelly-green cap from her head. She shook her tousled brown curls wildly and squirted water onto her sweaty brow. Andie giggled involuntarily, forever amused by Tammy’s childlike antics.

Caught off guard by the laughter, Tammy whirled around. Her mouth dropped open as she spotted Andie.

“Andie?” she asked in astonishment. She lowered her sunglasses and gawked, then let out a shriek and bounded across the blacktop, leaping the fence to wrap her in a crushing bear hug.

“I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it!” Tammy said as she squeezed her tightly. “I don’t know whether to hug you or ring your scrawny neck,” she said hoarsely, her voice cracking with sobs. “Jeez-us, Andie, where the hell’ve you been?”

“That’s some way to greet an old friend,” Andie replied as she brushed away glad tears. Wrenching from the smothering embrace, she held Tammy at arms’ length, teasing her with twinkling eyes, hoping to keep the mood light.

“Who says we’re still friends?” Tammy snarled, punching Andie hard in the chest. “You take out of town, never even saying good-bye, never calling to tell me whether you’re alive or dead and then you come back, twenty damn years later and expect me to welcome you with open arms? I don’t think so,” her voice rose an octave with each furious syllable and echoed across the playground, bringing startled glances from the parents arriving to collect their children.

“Tammy, might I remind you what YMCA stands for? Young Men’s Christian Association. That means watch your language, missy.”

Tammy scowled, muttering under her breath, “I’ve got to dismiss my kids.” She began to walk away, striding purposefully toward the gang of boys. “Don’t you be going anywhere though, lady,” she warned over her shoulder. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

After the last straggler left, Andie and Tammy climbed to the top of the wooden bleachers and stretched back on their elbows, letting the hot sunshine beat down on them. Tammy sipped her water bottle pensively, biting her tongue, taking time to calm down and measure her words carefully.

“I was really sorry about your mom’s passing,” she said finally. “I thought for sure you’d come home for the funeral.”

“I would have, except I didn’t find out until after the fact.”

“That’s nice.”

“It certainly wasn’t pleasant.”

“So, where the hell’ve you been?”

Andie met Tammy’s penetrating glare unwaveringly, shading her eyes with her forearm and shrugging casually. “Oh, nowhere special. Just here and there.”

“Here and there? For twenty years?” Tammy frowned, raising a cynical brow. “Give me a break.”

“Tammy, my story’s real long and hard to tell,” Andie said, dancing skillfully around the issue. “Let’s start with you. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing with your life?”

Tammy nodded, conceding to Andie’s solemn expression. “Okay, I can go first, if you’d like,” she replied amicably. “Let’s see, when we last saw one another, I was leaving for UT. I graduated with a degree in secondary education and came back to Pine Prairie. I took a job at the high school as the girls basketball coach and I also teach American History to the junior class delinquents.”

“Why Pine Prairie? Of all the places on God’s green earth to settle down, why would you pick here?”

“Why not?” Tammy smiled, extending her arms expansively. “Who could ask for anything more than this?”

“So, is that all?”

“What do you mean is that all? Hell, isn’t that enough? What’d you expect out of me, a Nobel Prize?”

“Hardly,” Andie said with a chuckle. “Believe me, that was the farthest thought from my mind. How about a husband or some kids?”

Tammy shook her head. “Nope, neither. There’s no one in this town worth having. I dated a guy for a while when I was in Austin, but I dumped him when I moved back here. We never saw eye to eye on much anyway. Men, for the most part, are a big pain in the butt.”

“Don’t you ever want to have kids?”

“I have kids, a whole big slew of ’em,” Tammy grinned. “My students are my kids, and I get a whole new set every four years, which is a much better deal than most parents get.” She stretched her fingers and cracked her knuckles, eyeing Andie with spunky determination. “Okay, chickadee, I’ve killed enough time telling you about my complacent little life. Let’s talk about yours for a while.”

Andie cleared her throat, shifting self-consciously on the hard wooden bench. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, for starters, let’s talk about the summer you disappeared. You remember that summer, don’t you? Me to UT, you to Mississippi State.”

“Yeah,” Andie sighed. “I remember that summer well. Daddy died, Mama flipped, and life was just never the same.”

“And then you left.”

“Yes, and then I left.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Tammy pursed her lips in frustration. “Your mother really freaked out after you left, acted really weird. Told us you ran away from home, but I didn’t buy it, not for one minute. You weren’t the runaway type. Ol’ Doris acted so bizarre that I started checking your back yard for shallow graves.”

She paused, staring broodingly off into the distance, her thoughts focused intently on a time gone by. “Your mom was bad off, but not nearly as bad off as Cole.”

Andie shuddered involuntarily, her heart skipping erratically at the mention of his name. Cole Dewberry, her high school sweetheart, the one who hung the moon. His haunting image leapt into her mind: his handsome face, wavy black hair and soulful gray eyes. She could almost hear his laughter, feel the warmth of his smile. She melted at the thought of him and smiled softly, overcome by an overwhelming sense of longing, her soul crying out to be near him, her arms yearning to hold him tight.

“Cole really wigged when he found out you were gone,” Tammy’s voice tugged at her insistently, pulling her out of her daydream. “He was absolutely beside himself, camping out on your mother’s porch, patrolling the neighborhood, even threatened to postpone going off to school so he could look for you. His daddy put a stop to that nonsense though. He loaded Cole up and drove him to Starksville himself, just to make sure he went.”

“I’m sorry,” Andie said, lowering her eyes, her voice filled with guilt. “I never meant to hurt him, or you.”

“Well, despite your good intentions, we were hurt, both of us. Hurt and downright baffled, wondering what we’d done to deserve such shabby treatment.” Tammy’s voice was gruff with bitterness. “After a few months, I gave up all hope of ever seeing you again, but not Cole. I don’t think he gave up hope until you didn’t show up for the ten-year reunion.” She glanced over, her steely look piercing Andie’s soul. “I’m really curious, Andie, so spill. Where’ve you been?”

“I left here early that morning before the sun even came up,” Andie began reluctantly, her voice solemn, her blue eyes clouded and far away. “It was really damp and foggy, and the air was thick with humidity. The air was thick, but not nearly as thick as the silence in our car. I bet Mama and I didn’t speak two words all the way to Dallas, not even when we got to DFW and it came time to say goodbye. We never spoke a word. She just took me by the arm and put me on the first flight out of Dallas to David’s.”

Tammy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “David’s? Really? That’s the last place I would’ve expected you to be, with the way y’all fought and all.”

Andie didn’t respond. Instead, she heard her brother’s voice, floating through her mind like a distant ghost:

“Let me call my friend Brandon in Atlanta, Andie,” he had said soberly, his expression pleading, begging her to listen to the voice of reason. “Let’s put an end to this once and for all so you can get on with your life.”

Andie had stared through him, her eyes blank and lifeless. “My life? What life would that be, David? I don’t have a life, not anymore. My life is gone.” All that she had treasured had been taken from her, her dreams and expectations shattered.

Andie shook her head, erasing the traumatic memory to go on with her story. “I stayed in Huntsville with David and his wife Charlotte for nearly a year, then moved on to Biloxi where I went to school, got a job, married and started a catering business. Ten years later, I got a divorce, kept the business and stayed in Mississippi while my ex moved to Tennessee with the kids.” Andie shrugged nonchalantly, meeting Tammy’s probing eyes. “That’s pretty much it.”

“So that’s it in a nutshell. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

“Bullshit, Andie. There’s more to it than that. I want to know what the hell made you go to David’s in the first place? What made you throw away your plans for college, not to mention the love of your life, and run to Huntsville, Alabama? It had to be more than the undeniable urge to spend time with your beloved brother.”

“You’re right. There was more to it.”

“No kidding. So, spit it out already! I’ve spent the last twenty years worrying whether you were alive or dead. I at least deserve to know the truth.”

The relentless pit bull in Tammy wouldn’t give up until she drew blood. And she’s right, Andie admitted, wringing her hands nervously. Tammy deserved to hear the whole story, but telling her wouldn’t be easy. Another face came to mind: a tiny face with brilliant eyes and rosy cheeks. She had only seen it briefly, but would remember it for the rest of her life.

Andie swallowed, forcing a hard lump from her throat, and squeezed her eyes shut, holding back a river of scalding tears. “Yes, Tammy. There was more to it,” she murmured. “Much more.”

“Quit stalling, will ya? Nothing can be that bad.”

“No, not by today’s standards anyway. In today’s world, it’s something frighteningly commonplace, but twenty years ago it was almost unspeakable.”

“You had a debilitating drug habit?’

“No,” Andie laughed softly. “Although that might’ve been easier on me.” She hesitated and took a deep breath. “I was pregnant, Tammy. That’s why I left.”

Tammy sucked in her breath sharply, her muddy-brown eyes as big as saucers. “What did you just say?” she stuttered in disbelief.

“You heard me.”

“Pregnant!” Tammy continued to stare in astonishment, slapping her palm to her chest. “Cole?”

Andie nodded solemnly.

“My God! And you didn’t tell him?” Tammy’s voice rose hysterically. “You were pregnant with Cole Dewberry’s baby, and you left town without telling him? Are you crazy?”

Andie set her jaw, determined not to cry. She fixed her gaze on her tightly clenched hands, unwilling to meet Tammy’s outraged stare. “It seemed to be the right thing to do at the time, given his baseball scholarship and all,” she said softly. “I just wanted Cole to have a good life, to live out all his dreams.”

“And you think he could achieve that without you? Don’t you know that being with you was part of his dream? You actually believe that, not knowing what happened to you, he could just push all memory of you aside and continue on as if nothing ever happened?”

“I don’t know what I believed.”

“That’s pretty damn obvious,” Tammy shot back, her stare piercing Andie like a dagger. “So, where’s the baby now? Biloxi, Tennessee or here with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I haven’t seen her since the day she was born.” Andie looked up, her face ashen, her sorrowful eyes haunted by pain. “I gave her up for adoption.”

“Why? Never mind.” Tammy held up her hand, halting any further explanation. “I know. It seemed the right thing to do at the time.” She took off her cap and scratched her head, perplexed. “Whose idea was that? Or did you come up with it all on your own?”

“It was David’s idea.”

“Of course it was. Good old David, always the brilliant one. He never gave a damn about anyone but himself.” Tammy sighed heavily, sliding a sympathetic arm around Andie’s shoulders, her heart twisted by the grief-stricken expression on her face. “I’m so sorry, honey. You’ve really had a tough time.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Andie sniffled loudly, wiping her drippy nose on the edge of her sleeve. “I’ve been an absolute mess since the day the baby came. I left Huntsville right afterward, hating everyone associated with the adoption, especially my mother and David.

“I made it okay in Biloxi. I met my ex-husband, Freddie, shortly after I got there. He was wonderful to me. Freddie LaRue’s a kind, decent human being, and he certainly didn’t deserve any of the grief he got from me.

“Our marriage got off to a good start. I was happy and Freddie was happy. Then Freddie wanted a family, and things began to change. We had Dana first. My God, she was beautiful, so sunny and happy. She was a wonderful baby, more than anyone could ever ask for, but I just couldn’t feel anything for her. I wouldn’t even hold her.

“The doctors blamed it on postpartum depression, but I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. It was like I just snapped, like giving birth to Dana burst the dam, bringing it all flooding back. From the moment she was born, I pushed Dana away, longing instead for my firstborn. Every single time I looked at Dana, I ached for Shannon. I know it was wrong to feel that way, but I just couldn’t help it.”

Andie closed her eyes, resting her head on the steel rail behind her, unhappy tears cascading down her cheeks and drying instantly in the heat of the scorching Texas sun. Oh God, why didn’t I do things differently? She chastised herself, resisting the urge to beat her head against the guardrail. Regret was a hard thing to deal with and it had taken its toll. Years of remorse had cut a deep path through Andie’s heart, leaving her wounded and hollow.

She opened her eyes to view Tammy’s incredulous face and felt the need to clarify. “Now, don’t get me wrong — I love Dana. I really do. She’s a great girl. It’s just that at the time I could offer her no affection.

“Our son Jerry was born two years later, and although I felt a little bit more for him than for Dana, even he did nothing to improve my poor mental status. I was deeply depressed and withdrew from everyone, even the husband I adored. After ten years of dealing with it, poor Freddie’d had enough, and he and I divorced.”

“You poor kid.” Tammy reached over, squeezing Andie’s hand consolingly. “It wouldn’t be right for me to be mad at you now. All this kinda takes the wind out of my sails. I can’t believe you kept it from me all these years. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“In the beginning, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want Cole to find out. Then, as time went on, I suppose I didn’t contact you because I was ashamed.”

“Ashamed? Oh Andie, sometimes you are so stupid.” Tammy laughed lightly and shook her head, smiling broadly in a show of support. “Okay, so now I know. When are you going to tell Cole? Or are you?”

“I planned to tell him this weekend, assuming he’ll be here. That’s my real purpose in coming.”

“If that’s the case, then you should get your chance. He’s home. I saw him last night at Joe McCoy’s.”

“Joe McCoy’s? Good lord, is that old honky tonk still around?”

“Sure it is. Hey, it ain’t much, but it’s all we got.”

Cole was in Pine Prairie. Andie’s pale face lit up. “How did he look?” she asked shyly, casting a sidelong glance at Tammy from beneath thick lashes.

“How do you think he looked? He looked simply gorgeous. When I saw him, he was strutting his stuff around the pool table and outrunning women, as usual.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Briefly. Shoot, I could barely get near him. He was surrounded by a pack of our matronly female counterparts, desperately seeking some means of escape.”

“Isn’t he married?”

“There was a Mrs. Dewberry for a while. Some girl he met at Mississippi State.” Tammy wrinkled her brow, trying to recall the details. “But they’ve been divorced for several years now, I think.”

Andie’s heart swelled hopefully, and she concealed an optimistic smile. Cole was unattached — that was one of the first positive things to happen to her in a long time. Maybe there was a chance. If she still loved Cole, then maybe, just maybe, he might have some affection left for her. Maybe there was room for happiness in her life after all.

Tammy’s mouth stretched into a thin smile as she studied Andie’s lovesick expression. “I’d get that syrupy look off my face if I were you,” she said sternly. “Cole might just harbor a little resentment toward you, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t expect him to be ready to kiss and make up, if you know what I mean.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep it in mind.” Andie shaded her eyes against the blinding sun and squinted at Tammy, waiting patiently for her next question.

“Then I take it you are going to the reunion. You want me to pick you up? You damn sure don’t want to enter that lions’ den alone.”

“Pick me up? Don’t you have a date?” Andie kidded, laughing loudly at Tammy’s irate frown.

“Hell no! Don’t you listen? I already told you that there’s no one in town to date and from what I saw of our former classmates last night, none of them look worth a damn either, with the exception of Cole.”

Tammy glanced at her watch and jumped up from her seat. “C’mon, Shepherd, let’s go. I’ll make you dinner.”

Andie shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ll pass. I’d like to be alone for a while. You know, to gather my thoughts and put myself back together.” She looked up, meeting Tammy’s eyes, their gaze locked in mutual understanding. Finally, Tammy nodded.

“Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging with facetious indifference. She began her descent down the bleachers, stopping midway down to glance back over her shoulder. “It is good to have you back, Andie. I have missed you, even if I was pretty pissed off.” She flashed a mischievous grin and then continued to the bottom of the stands, calling out obnoxiously, “I’ll meet you tonight then, at the gym, eight o’clock. Be there or be square.”

Andie watched her saunter away, whistling a jaunty tune as she climbed into her four-wheel drive. Good old Tammy, she thought fondly. For all her crustiness, she really had a heart of gold.

“Coming clean with her was much easier than I imagined,” Andie realized, sighing with relief. “One down, one to go.”

The thought of telling Cole made her sick. Drained and filled with apprehension, Andie rose wearily and headed toward home.

Back at the house, she had a good cry and a stiff drink, successfully locating Jake’s secret stash of whiskey. “That was good,” she said, lifting the bottle to pour another. She gulped it down smoothly, letting the fiery liquid burn her throat, praying it would drown her sorrows. She debated finishing off the bottle, but decided against it, thinking it would be unwise to show up at the reunion toasted.

“As if the rumors flying around about me aren’t bad enough. All I need is for people to think I’m a lush,” she muttered and put on a pot of strong coffee before teetering upstairs to take a shower.

Later, dressed in a soft-blue linen sheath and matching flats, she stood in front of her closet door, studying her reflection in the full-length mirror. Remembering Tammy’s remark about their matronly female counterparts, she peered more closely, narrowing her eyes as she critically inspected her appearance. She thought she had aged pretty well, but now she wasn’t so sure.

I haven’t changed that much, she mused, pinching the flawless skin on her cheeks, squinting at the faint crow’s feet around her eyes. She was five foot eight and despite having given birth to three children, managed to retain her slim, willowy figure. Her skin was smooth and lightly tanned from the rare afternoons she’d managed to slip out of work to walk on the beach, and her blonde hair was trimmed to her shoulders in an attractive style, a definite change from the long ponytail of her teens. I don’t look that old, she thought. Nowhere near thirty-eight. No, she certainly didn’t look ancient. She only felt it sometimes.

On the outside, she still looked the same, but inwardly she was much different. Did it show? Did her face give away the pain she had endured? Looking at her, one would never suspect her anguish. However, those who knew her best could see a change, no matter how small. The difference was in her eyes. Although still bright blue, they had lost their brilliance and become dull, etched with sadness that would never fade.

Grabbing her purse, Andie descended the stairs, lost in thought. Her lonely heart still hoped to find Doris curled up on the couch with her nose buried in a mystery novel. It was hard being in the house alone. She missed her parents terribly and longed for a comforting touch. It was funny how she thought of them now. She had allowed her thoughts to linger on them longer in the past twenty hours than she had in the past twenty years.

Bleakly, Andie recalled the days following her father’s death and her mother’s depression and withdrawal. Had it not been for Cole, Andie would have lost her mind. Cole had been her rock, her shoulder to cry on, the one she ran to for comfort. He had consoled her, cradling her tenderly in his arms, kissing her and assuring her that all would again be right.

When Andie discovered she was pregnant later that same summer, Doris was still not herself. She lost control, yelling and screaming, slapping Andie hard across the face and accusing her of things that were not only unfair, but also untrue. Her cruelty in the days before Andie’s departure caused a permanent rift between them, something Andie grew to regret as she matured. She let too many years go by without making amends with her mother, and now it was too late. She would never get another chance to say, “I’m sorry.” And that’s what bothered her most.

Pushing away her grim thoughts, Andie moved to the front door, butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach. “Wish me luck,” she flashed a nervous smile to the family portrait hanging in the entryway. “I’m gonna need it.”

She closed the door, walking slowly toward the rental parked in the drive, already regretting her decision not to ride to the dance with Tammy.

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