Read an Excerpt
Trisha hadn't noticed when the rolling emerald hills of Kentucky had become the Tennessee mountains. Her attention was on the hairpin-curved road. Then suddenly she remembered the crisp spring air and the sweet scents of pine and wildflowers in bloom. And the fleeting mists that drifted between the mountain peaks. She recalled the peace, privacy and silence that were the gifts of the mountains. Silently she wished she hadn't remembered.
"Patricia!"
Trisha glanced swiftly at her mother-in-law. "Oh, you're awake. Are you feeling better, darling?"
"I would probably feel perfectly fine if I thought I could get your attention for two and a half seconds," Julia said petulantly. "You've been as quiet as a tomb for two days. Obviously you're still irritated with me."
For a few seconds Trisha's sapphire eyes met Julia's. A strong, independent spirit shone clearly in her mother-in-law's steel-blue eyes. Julia was a matriarch from a bygone era who could and would put anyone in his place, given the opportunity. But she didn't have to use her formidable will against Trisha and they both knew it.
"There was no one else I could ask, Patricia. Besides, it isn't as if I ever asked much of you."
"I'm not arguing with you, darling," Trisha said wearily. "We're nearly there, so please just…let it be."
"You couldn't possibly be afraid to see Kern again, could you?"
Trisha's fingers tensed on the wheel.
"The last time he saw you, you were a waif. And now? Well, breeding will out, I've always said. You've got aristocrat in your bones—"
"Thank you," Trisha interrupted dryly. "But what that has to do with anything is beyond me." She checked her tone abruptly. Julia looked wretched. The steel-blue eyes were surrounded by flesh that was too gray and wrinkles that were too pronounced. The car was cool, yet there was moisture on Julia's forehead and her hands were limp. Her lip color was a bluish purple. "Sweetheart," Trisha said quietly, "you want to see Kern, and we're going to see him. We'll be there in an hour. Now I want you to relax and stop worrying. There's no reason—"
"So you keep saying. But there is reason. I told you. If he told me he had a concussion and broken ribs, God knows what really happened! He is my son, Patricia, even if we don't get along—"
"As in brick wall meeting brick wall," Trisha murmured under her breath.
Julia's jaw stiffened, her fingers plucking irritably at the expensive silk material of her skirt. "You could try to see it from my point of view. If he were your son, Patricia, and you knew he was in trouble—"
"The day Kern has trouble he can't handle you can count on the earth caving in, Julia. If anyone should be doing any worrying in the Lowery family, it's him for you, not the other way around." There was really no point in arguing. One didn't argue with Julia. One either gave in promptly and with good grace, or one donned earmuffs and said no at persistent five-minute intervals, never giving an inch. There had been no stopping Julia once Kern evidently let slip on the telephone that he had been in an accident some weeks before. Knowing her son didn't want her there was fuel enough for Julia to go to him. And knowing that Trisha had no desire to see her husband after five long years—well, Julia had the gift of being immovably single-minded at times. And with her health as it was, Trisha knew she had no choice.
