The Husband She Can't Forget Read online

  She thought she’d never see him again...

  In the past twelve years, Carly Joslin has made a new life for herself. She moved back home to Reston, Oklahoma, and started a successful organic-farming business. So she’s not about to let her ex-husband, Luke Sanderson, take all that away.

  Luke’s oil-extraction operation—right next door to Carly—is a real threat to her livelihood...and her peace of mind. Carly had buried the bittersweet memories of their young love, whirlwind marriage and terrible loss. But not deep enough. And now Luke is back in town, unearthing the past and shaking the very foundations of the life she’s built.

  “How many other pieces of land has he ruined?”

  “None!” Luke said.

  “As far as you know,” Carly replied.

  He shook his head in frustration. “I can’t answer that, or give you any facts that I don’t have.”

  “Luke, from what you’ve said so far, you wouldn’t tell me even if you did know.”

  Before he could answer, she threw her hands in the air. “Never mind. This is a pointless...merry-go-round. Nightmare-go-round,” she amended. “It’s time for you to go, Luke, and...and don’t come back.”

  “Carly, if you’d listen to me, I can at least tell you—”

  “Lies?” She held up her hand. “No. Go.”

  As if to emphasize her fury, the windows rattled in their frames.

  “Earthquake,” she said accusingly.

  “Well, I didn’t cause it.”

  “Yet.”

  Luke swung toward the door. “I’ll be back in three months, Carly, and then you’ll have to listen to me.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome back to Reston, Oklahoma. I hope you enjoyed your visit to the southeastern part of the state in At Odds with the Midwife. The Husband She Can’t Forget is the story of Carly Joslin and Luke Sanderson, who married much too young and parted painfully years ago. Now Luke is back and will be starting an oil-extraction process near Joslin Gardens, where Carly grows organic fruits and vegetables. His process could threaten her livelihood and her land itself. Worst of all, his presence is bringing back memories and regrets she’s tried to forget. Having him around will make her face the past even as Luke attempts to succeed in his new venture and avoid hurting Carly again.

  Happy reading,

  Patricia

  The Husband She Can’t Forget

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Patricia Forsythe

  Patricia Forsythe is the author of many romance novels and is proud to have received her twenty-five-book pin from Harlequin. She hopes there are many more books to come. A native Arizonan, Patricia loves setting books in areas where she has spent time, like the beautiful Kiamichi Mountains of Oklahoma. She has held a number of jobs, including teaching school, working as a librarian and as a secretary, and operating a care home for developmentally disabled children. Her favorite occupation, though, is writing novels in which the characters get into challenging situations and then work their way out. Each situation and set of characters is different, so sometimes the finished book is as much of a surprise to her as it is to the readers.

  Books by Patricia Forsythe

  Harlequin Heartwarming

  Oklahoma Girls

  At Odds with the Midwife

  Her Lone Cowboy

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  This book is dedicated to my beautiful grandchildren, who give me hope and happiness.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM A HOME COME TRUE BY CHERYL HARPER

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE CRUNCH OF tires as a pickup turned onto the long, graveled drive of Joslin Gardens caused a bobwhite quail to cease the endless reciting of his name and brought Carly Joslin’s attention from the damp, woven cloth she was spreading over the truck bed of fresh-picked vegetables. She frowned. She didn’t recognize the silver dual-cab pickup and she was running short on time. She had to deliver this load of produce to a restaurant on the other side of the county and then change clothes for the Memorial Day barbecue, where she hoped to arrive on time.

  It couldn’t be a customer. The fresh produce stand that a couple of high school kids operated for her was shuttered for the day and her employees had gone home. However, people did tend to stop by to ask her advice on gardening, or to purchase one of the pieces of furniture she refurbished. Raising a hand to shade her eyes, she tried to peer through the truck’s tinted windshield to identify her visitor. She usually enjoyed visits from her customers, but there really wasn’t time for an extended chat with anyone today, and besides...

  Shock jolted through her, nearly buckling her knees, when she recognized the driver.

  “It can’t be,” she whispered as she felt color drain from her face. “What’s he doing here?”

  Shakily, she gripped the side of the truck while she reminded herself to breathe and forced her frozen expression into what she hoped was an approximation of a welcoming smile.

  The fancy pickup took the rutted and pocked drive slowly, probably to minimize gravel popping up and marring the perfect paint job. The recent rains had laid waste to the drive and Carly intended to have it graded and graveled as soon as the weather improved for an extended period. Now, however, she was glad she had waited. The longer it took for the vehicle to reach her, the more time she had to prepare herself to meet the driver.

  Still, she couldn’t quite resist the urge to compare the upscale vehicle with her own truck, which her father had bought the year she was born and everyone in the family had used since then. The only thing new was its paint job: dark green with the Joslin Gardens logo she’d created on the sides—curling vines and plump vegetables shaped like letters and numbers. Her pickup ran beautifully except for the air-conditioning, which no one could coax into doing its job.

  The silver truck stopped several feet away from her and Luke Sanderson stepped out of the cab. Instantly she saw that he wasn’t the gangly boy she’d known a dozen years ago, but a self-assured man dressed in crisp jeans and a dark purple shirt.

  He was taller than she remembered, but that might be due to his cowboy boots. When she’d known him before, he’d usually worn work boots, sneakers or sandals. The blond hair that had once hung shaggily around his ears was now perfectly cut. It appeared to be a shade darker, and his skin less tanned, probably because he’d spent the intervening years in an office, not working outside as he had back then.

  There was no sign of the beard he’d once had. Instead his jaw was smooth shaven. His face was fuller. One thing hadn’t changed, though. His eyes were still a li
ght shade of caramel brown that had so intrigued her from the minute they’d met.

  “Hello, Carly,” he said, shutting the pickup’s door behind him and walking over to stand in front of her.

  His voice was deeper, she thought, but maybe that was because she hadn’t heard it in so many years. For some crazy reason, her pounding heart had bounced into her throat.

  “Hello, Lu-Luke,” she stammered, pausing and trying to get a grip on her emotions. This was the first time she’d spoken to him in twelve years. “This is a surprise.”

  “I should have called, but it seemed easier to drop by.” He nodded toward his truck. “I’ve got something for you. I thought if you weren’t here, I could leave it on the porch with a note.”

  “Something for me?” She lifted her hands, palm out, as she shook her head. “After all these years, Luke, I can’t imagine...”

  “It’s from Wendolin.”

  “Your grandmother? But she’s—”

  “She left you this in her will. Left it to both of us, actually, but it’s not something I’d be interested in, so it’s all yours.”

  “What is it?”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” He walked to the back of the pickup, opened the tailgate and untied the ropes firmly holding a tarp in place around a big, rectangular object.

  Although her knees felt a little shaky, Carly followed him. When he flipped the tarp to one side, she gasped.

  “Wendolin’s hope chest,” she breathed, tears filling her eyes. Reaching out a shaky hand, she ran her fingers over the ornately carved flat top of the trunk. “This is the one that was in her bedroom, isn’t it? At the foot of her bed.”

  “Yes.” Luke’s throat worked and he cleared it before he went on. “She designated years ago that you were to have it. She said you would appreciate it more than anyone else because you love things with a history.”

  “That’s true. I...I do appreciate it. And she left this to me? I never expected her to do such a thing.”

  “She always loved you. Your visits to her these past few years meant a lot.”

  “They meant a lot to me, too, but certainly didn’t mean she had to leave me a family heirloom.” Tears stung her eyes and Carly blinked them back.

  “It did to her...and to me.”

  Carly couldn’t form an answer around the knot of sorrow, longing and regret that clogged her throat. Wendolin Bayer had been a wonderful, loving woman, a steadfast friend when Carly had needed one the most.

  “My dad...”

  “What about him?” Carly choked out. Turning away, she used the sleeve of her T-shirt to dab at her eyes. Robert Sanderson was the last person in the world she wanted to talk about, or even think about, right now.

  “He said he saw you at Omi’s funeral,” he said.

  “Along with about six hundred other people. Between her church work and her community work, many people loved her. It was the most crowded funeral I’ve ever seen.” Carly faced him again, her eyes still bright with tears.

  “I didn’t see you.”

  “Were you looking for me?” She didn’t know what point he was trying to make, and maybe he didn’t, either. She had seen him at the funeral, from a distance, but had avoided him. She couldn’t face talking to him, and she definitely hadn’t wanted to talk to his father. She had made it a point to slip in as the service started and sit in the back, one of the few seats left, and grieve on her own.

  When Luke didn’t respond, she went on. “I only stayed for the service then I came home. I had produce to pick and deliver.”

  Luke glanced around, seeming to notice the gardens for the first time, along with the loaded bed of the pickup. His attention lingered on the greenhouses, then on the rows of carrots and beets in the small field. “This is beautiful, Carly. Prosperous. Do you have any help?”

  “Some. Mostly high school kids who may or may not be dependable. If I need to, I can manage on my own.”

  Eager to be finished with this awkward encounter, she reached out, ready to pull the trunk toward her, but Luke put a restraining hand on her arm. She jerked away then blushed when she caught the dismay in his face.

  “Sorry,” he said. “But it’s heavy, so I’d better get it. Omi left a bunch of things in there for you. I didn’t look at the contents, thought it was none of my business.”

  “I can do it.” Carly flexed her biceps. “I do manual labor all day long. I can help you with this trunk.”

  Luke looked at her arm then at her determined face. “Yes, I guess you can. Do you have a hand truck? That would make it easier for both of us.”

  “Sure. Be right back.” She took a few steps and then turned. “Don’t do it yourself. Wait for me.”

  Once inside the equipment shed, Carly glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was doing as she said, then grasped the handle of the hand truck, tilted it back on its wheels and rolled it out of the shed, her movements automatic.

  She wished Luke had called first so she would have had time to prepare herself, to be the in-charge woman she had worked so hard to become for more than a decade. He didn’t have her phone number, but he could have asked Tom or Frances for it. His uncle and aunt knew everyone in the county. In fact, they were hosting the Memorial Day barbecue.

  She paused, glancing at Luke. Of course. That’s why he was here. He was going to the barbecue, although he’d never attended before. Well, at least she knew. It wouldn’t be another surprise. She only wished there wouldn’t be so many people there who knew about their past—they’d be watching to see how she and Luke reacted to each other. Her two best friends, Gemma Whitmire and Lisa Thomas, would be at the barbecue, as well. They would help her avoid him if necessary.

  “Here we go,” she said, all business as she wheeled the hand truck to the back of his pickup. “I want to put the trunk in the house.”

  Luke jumped into the truck bed and pushed the trunk while Carly pulled. When it was far enough to tilt over the tailgate, he leaped down and helped her lower it to the ground, then onto the hand truck. Together, they rolled it to the house, lifted it up the three shallow steps to the front porch and then through the door into the living room.

  Carly moved the coffee table away from the sofa and said, “Here is where I want it.”

  They moved it into place then stood together, catching their breath.

  “I had a couple of guys help me get it into my truck, but we probably should have unpacked it before we moved it.” Luke flexed his shoulders. “I don’t know what Omi put in there, but it feels like gold bricks.”

  “Whatever it is, I’ll treasure it.”

  He glanced around the living room, his gaze skimming over the 1940s-style sofa and chair she had reupholstered, the tables and bookcases she had refinished, and the paintings she had unearthed at estate sales and junk shops. She’d painted some of the pictures, too—abstract designs where she’d been playing with color, trying to recreate the feel of a sunset or the exact shade of a field of bluebonnets.

  “Yes,” he finally said. “I can see that you will. This is very different than what your parents had in here. How are they, by the way?”

  “They’re doing well now, but slowing down. They took everything with them when my dad got sick and they moved to Tulsa, so I’ve made the house my own.”

  “It reminds me of you.” The corner of his mouth edged up. “It’s cozy. What you always wanted.”

  And nothing at all like the mansion where he’d been raised in an upscale section of Dallas, and probably nothing like whatever penthouse apartment he now inhabited.

  She folded her hands at her waist. “It’s the home I wanted to create for myself.” Silently she added, for us, but those were words she would never speak out loud.

  “The place looks great, Carly.” Luke started for the door. “You’ve achieved what yo
ur parents tried to do with their organic garden. You’ve worked hard.”

  “Thank you.” From nowhere a blast of regret and nostalgia swept over her. “I needed to keep busy after we...”

  “Yes, of course.” Luke opened the door and stepped out. He held it open so she could follow him if she wanted to, but she didn’t.

  Her only desire was to go huddle in her chair, to settle into calmness. She couldn’t do that, though. She had an order to deliver and a party to attend. She’d been looking forward to that, but now even the thought of the get-together filled her with dread.

  “Thank you for delivering the trunk, Luke. I’ll take good care of it, and of whatever Wendolin left inside.”

  “I know you will.” He descended the steps then turned back. “Organic gardening? Is that very labor intensive?”

  “Of course, but it’s worth it because I can honestly say the produce is as fresh, good, and clean as I can make it.”

  He nodded, as he looked out at her fields again. “I see.” He paused again, before he said, “Maybe I’ll see you later.” With a wave, he strode to his truck, climbed in and drove away.

  Grateful the awkward encounter was finished, Carly leaned against the door frame and watched the Oklahoma red dust rise behind his tires then dissipate into the breeze.

  Tears sprang into her eyes and she blinked hard to fight them back. Turning, she looked at her legacy from Luke’s German-born grandmother, the one who had taught her the importance of cherishing her family, the one who had comforted her when the family she and Luke had tried to create had disappeared in a miscarriage and the cold, silent recriminations that ended their brief marriage.

  It all seemed so long ago, and she wouldn’t have thought it could still hurt so much. She thought she’d dealt with it, put it behind her, forgiven herself. And him. But maybe facing hurtful memories and being able to forgive were skills that needed to be practiced.

  Sitting on the sofa, she ran her fingers over the design of flowers and birds carved into the top of the trunk. This wasn’t a piece she would refinish. That would be a travesty. It had come to America with the Bayer family when they fled Nazi Germany eighty years ago, but she didn’t know how old it was. The faded paint held only a hint of the beautiful colors that had once decorated the piece and the nicks and scratches spoke of years of everyday use. This had been treasured by Wendolin and her family, and Carly would continue that tradition.