From This Day Forward Read online

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” Neil whispered.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Modean Moon

  About the Author

  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

  Copyright

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” Neil whispered.

  Ginnie peered suspiciously at her husband. “Don’t you have to go to the office? Or have a meeting with the election committee?”

  “No to both.”

  She couldn’t believe it! There hadn’t been a Saturday in months when he hadn’t run off. “Then why did you set the alarm?”

  “It might seem unromantic, but with our busy schedules, I wanted to make sure we have plenty of time for this. Kiss me, Ginnie.”

  It was all the invitation she needed. She slid her arms around him and met his embrace. As absorbed as she was, she barely heard the click of the bedroom door.

  But when Neil muttered an oath, she knew that Todd was standing there. “Gee, Dad. I’m sorry,” he said.

  But Ginnie heard no sorrow in those words. She hoped it was her imagination, but what she heard was a sneaky pleasure in having interrupted them....

  Dear Reader,

  There’s a nip in the air, now that fall is here, so why not curl up with a good book to keep warm? We’ve got six of them this month, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments. Take Modean Moon’s From This Day Forward, for example. This Intimate Moments Extra title is a deeply emotional look at the break-up—and makeup—of a marriage. Your heart will ache along with heroine Ginnie Kendrick’s when she thinks she’s lost Neil forever, and your heart will soar along with hers, too, when at last she gets him back again.

  The rest of the month is terrific, too. Jo Leigh is back with Everyday Hero. Who can resist a bad boy like T. J. Russo? Not Kate Dugan, that’s for sure! Then there’s Linda Randall Wisdom’s No More Mister Nice Guy. Jed Hawkins is definitely tough, but even a tough guy has a heart—as Shelby Carlisle can testify by the end of this compelling novel. Suzanne Brockmann’s TALL, DARK AND DANGEROUS miniseries continues with Forever Blue, about Lucy Tait and Blue McCoy, a hero as true blue as his name. Welcome Audra Adams to the line with Mommy’s Hero, and watch as the world’s cutest twin girls win over the recluse next door. Okay, their mom has something to do with his change of heart, too. Finally, greet our newest author, Roberta Tobeck. She’s part of our WOMEN TO WATCH new author promotion, and once you’ve read Under Cover of the Night, you’ll know why we’re so keen on her.

  Enjoy—and come back next month for six more top-notch novels of romance the Intimate Moments way.

  Leslie Wainger,

  Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator

  * * *

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  * * *

  FROM THIS DAY FORWARD

  MODEAN MOON

  Books by Modean Moon

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  From This Day Forward #739

  Silhouette Desire

  The Giving #868

  Interrupted Honeymoon #904

  Forgotten Vows #995

  MODEAN MOON

  once believed she could do anything she wanted. Now she realizes there is not enough time in one life to do everything. As a result, she says her writing is a means of exploring paths not taken. Currently she works as a land title researcher, determining land or mineral ownership for clients. Modean lives in Oklahoma on a hill overlooking a small town. She shares a restored Victorian farmhouse with a six-pound dog, a twelve-pound cat and, reportedly, a resident ghost.

  Chapter 1

  The ringing of the telephone didn’t alarm Ginnie. Why should it? It had rung repeatedly all evening as her friends called with season’s wishes and last-minute revisions in holiday plans. She barely heard it over the recorded music-box Christmas carols and the laughter of her best friend Cassie’s three sons, roughhousing on the floor with their present to her, a ten-week-old collie pup.

  She did hear it, though, and handed the armload of coats to Cassie. “It’s probably Frank.” She grinned and paused long enough to pluck a handmade ceramic ornament from the carpet and hang it high on the tree before stepping around opened toys and piles of discarded ribbon and paper. “I’ll bet he’s worried about what’s keeping us.”

  She was still grinning as she picked up the receiver, more interested in Cassie’s attempts to get the boys into their coats and away from the dog than she was, at the moment, in the call.

  “Hello.” Her voice carried her laughter.

  “Will you accept the charges on a collect call from Todd Kendrick?”

  Ginnie’s hand clenched on the receiver and she stood stunned into silence, unaware of anything, not even the feeling of her nails digging into her palm. One by one, sensations returned to her—the pleasant mingled scents of bayberry and fresh fir, the glow of the dying fire, the giggles of the boys and Cassie’s frustrated coaxing.

  No! The word roared through her, then whimpered in her mind as her thoughts darted without coherence, as fleeting and random as the tiny lights on the tree across the room. Why now? Where is he? Oh, God, what can I do? Can I just hang up? What does he want?

  “Ma’am?” the operator repeated more distinctly. “Will you accept—”

  “Yes,” Ginnie said quietly, acknowledging that something far beyond her control had been set in motion, knowing that she had no choice but to talk to him.

  “Ginnie?” His voice was deeper, no longer the childish one she remembered. “Mom?”

  Mom. After all those years of waiting, and praying, now he’d finally said it. She stood quite still, consciously not allowing herself to show any weakness by slumping. “Yes, Todd?” Her voice was barely audible. It was the best she could do. Her heart pounded against her breastbone, its sounds competing with those coming over the faintly crackling line. “What do you want?”

  “I’m coming home for Christmas,” he announced triumphantly.

  It was a joke. It had to be a joke. Didn’t he know what torture he was putting her through? Or did he know and was he doing it deliberately?

  She put one hand against the wall for support. “Where are you?”

  “Oh.” He paused for a second. “I don’t know. Some pay phone just off the highway. It’s awful cold out here. Tell Dad I’m going to be a little late, because I’m having trouble getting rides.”

  Pay phone? Highway? “Todd?” Tell Dad? “Todd.” She fought down the urge to yell at him. “Your father and I—you do remember that your father and I—”

  “Sure,” he said. “Do you still have the Christmas tree in front of the big bay window? I love it over there.”

  “Todd? Todd, your father and I—” She had no idea of how to reason with him. “We don’t live on the farm anymore.”

  “Oh, gee. That’s too bad. Don’t worry. I’ll find you.”

  “Todd.” She knew she was going to scream any moment now. “Where are you?”

  “Ginnie.” He lowered his voice and ignored her question. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  She bit down hard on her lower lip. No. He wouldn’t have forgotten. He had sworn not to.

  “See you,” he promised. “Soon.”

  Too late she remembered the ope
rator who had connected the call. Too late she clicked down on the buttons, trying to summon her, trying to find out where the call had been placed. She continued clicking them long after the dial tone announced an open line.

  “Ginnie?”

  Cassie stood in the doorway with Ginnie’s coat draped over her arm as she studied her intently. “What’s wrong? There hasn’t been an accident, has there?”

  An accident? Vaguely Ginnie remembered the snow that had so uncharacteristically begun drifting down late that afternoon, powdering the trees, the lawns and the streets.

  “No,” she said, attempting to reassure her friend. “No accident.”

  She saw by Cassie’s still-worried expression that her attempt hadn’t worked.

  “Then what...You look just awful, Ginnie. What was that phone call about?”

  Ginnie shook her head slowly, as if in denying Cassie’s question, she could deny all that had just happened. “It’s probably nothing,” she told her, “but I have to make some calls.”

  She glanced at the slim watch on her wrist. “It’s almost eleven thirty. The choir will be starting soon. If you don’t get a move on, you’ll miss Frank’s solo.”

  “What about you? Aren’t you coming to Mass?”

  “Yes... No...”

  “I don’t know? Maybe?” Cassie finished for her as Ginnie tried to find an answer.

  “Maybe,” Ginnie said. “Now, go on.” She smiled, knowing that Cassie still wasn’t reassured. “If I can get the answers I need, I’ll be there. If not—if not, I’ll try to explain tomorrow at dinner.”

  She kept her smile firmly in place until she saw Cassie and the boys safely in the car. It slid from her as she collapsed against the door, twisting the dead-bolt lock and leaning her head against the door facing. She took a shuddering breath and pushed away from the door. I will be calm, she told herself as she walked mechanically through the house, checking the locks on all the doors and windows and turning on the pitifully few outside lights.

  I won’t panic, she insisted, but her fingers fumbled on the pages of her address book. She would simply ask for information. Nothing else. She wouldn’t ask him for help, and she wouldn’t be disappointed or vindictive when he didn’t offer any.

  She had only the number for his Little Rock law office. Somewhere in her papers was the card on which she had written his unlisted home number, but she had no idea where. She counted each ring until, on the fifth, an impersonal female voice answered. Good. He still kept his answering service.

  “I need to talk to Neil Kendrick.” Good. Her voice didn’t break.

  “I’ll be happy to take a message, but Mr. Kendrick won’t be back in the office until the twenty-sixth.”

  “I realize that.” Ginnie spoke evenly, knowing she didn’t dare relax her tenuous control, not even in her voice. “But I also know that he has given you a number where he can be reached in an emergency. Please call him and tell him to get in touch with Virginia Kendrick, immediately, concerning an urgent family matter.” Good. She’d managed to make it sound like a calm, competent request.

  “Oh.”

  Ginnie could sense the operator’s curiosity, but she remained silent, waiting.

  “Yes, I do have a number Ms.—Mrs.? Kendrick. But — you did say that it’s urgent?”

  In spite of her own anxiety, Ginnie felt a smile quirk her lips. At one time, Neil’s temper had been the topic of discussions from Fort Smith to Memphis, but she doubted that this woman would ever see anything but his charm.

  “Urgent,” she repeated softly.

  “All right,” the operator said, sounding as though she were only half-convinced but had decided to go ahead. “I’ll call him.”

  “Thank you.” Good. Now all she had to do was wait the few minutes until Neil returned her call. Being calm and rational wasn’t all that difficult. Not if she set her mind to it. Not if she stayed busy. She could stay busy a few minutes.

  She gathered discarded wrapping paper and put it in the trash. She put another log on the fire. She stacked the opened packages under the tree. She set her alarm clock for the following morning. She rechecked the front-door lock. She even added water to the base of the tree, and while doing so she found one unopened package.

  “Oh.” She rocked back on her heels and stared at it numbly. “Frank’s sweater,” she murmured. “Cassie forgot to take it.”

  The telephone rang, and she forgot Frank’s sweater as she scrambled to her feet.

  “What is it, Ginnie?” Neil’s rich, assured voice floated to her over a backdrop of music and laughter, telling her that he was at a party, probably having as good a time as she had been having before her own unexpected phone call. And she had interrupted him. She could imagine the irritation that he masked.

  “What is it, Ginnie?” he repeated. “It’s been too long for this to be holiday nostalgia, so it has to be something you consider important.”

  Years of hearing censure in everything he said to her had conditioned her well. So he was upset with her for disturbing his plans? She was going though hell, and he was upset? In an instant, her resolve to be calm and rational deserted her.

  “Damn you, Neil Kendrick. You promised you’d tell me if they ever let him out.”

  Silence crackled through the line before she once again heard his voice as she had heard it too many times in the past. Patient. Resigned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Todd!” she cried. “You promised you’d tell me if they ever let him out.”

  “And I will.”

  “When? After he comes knocking on my door?”

  “Ginnie, I saw him this morning. By now he ought to be sound asleep. In his bed. At the sanitarium—”

  “Well, if he is,” she interrupted, “how did he get to a pay phone, God knows where, to call me and tell me he is hitchhiking home for Christmas?”

  Neil’s voice cut through her rising hysteria. “Tell me exactly what he said.”

  Damn! He didn’t know. He hadn’t told her because he didn’t know. Maybe—maybe Todd wasn’t looking for her. As coherently as she could, Ginnie repeated the conversation.

  “I’ll call you right back.” Neil spoke quickly, and his clipped words told her he wanted no argument at this time. “Lock your doors.”

  Once again she was left holding a dial tone to her ear. She replaced the receiver and looked around the room. Neil was probably right. She heard herself laugh helplessly. Todd was probably at the sanitarium. By now, he might even be asleep. And there was one more wedge between her and Neil, driven there by herself. As though one more could possibly make things worse. But why had she yelled at him? Hadn’t the divorce and time healed anything? Why did he still have the power to set her off like that?

  She checked the lock on the back door and began loading eggnog cups into the dishwasher. Neil was right. Todd was there. Asleep by now. But on the first shrill ring of the telephone, the cup in her hand slipped free and shattered against the sink.

  “Yes?”

  “Ginnie, there’s probably no reason to worry—”

  He wasn’t there! “Where is he?”

  “He’s usually not violent.”

  “Where is he?”

  She heard Neil sigh. No background noises intruded now. Had he moved to another room? Or had his party ended as abruptly as hers had?

  “They don’t know. He was in bed at nine but he’s not there now. They’re notifying the local authorities.”

  “Three hours,” she whispered. “And they didn’t know?”

  “He’s — bold on.” She heard a muffled sound through the line and then Neil’s voice, distant, talking to someone in the room with him. “I don’t know yet. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “I’m sorry for the interruption,” he said to her. “Todd has walked away a couple of times. He’s always come back. But he’s never left at night before.”

  Ginnie looked around the old-fashioned kitchen with its gay red gingham curtains. The bright red telephone
in her hand mocked her. She’d always felt so safe here.

  “Do you mean that he’s been able to leave when he wanted...all this time?”

  “No! No,” Neil said more softly. “It’s just that he’s been...well-behaved, lately. When he’s that way, they relax some of his restrictions.”

  “And he repays that trust by walking away?”

  “Ginnie, I know you’re afraid. Do you have anyone with you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have anyone you can call, or anyplace you can go?”

  “And hide?” she asked. “Just waiting for him to find me?”

  “Listen carefully. Calm down and listen carefully. I know we all agreed that it would be better if you didn’t visit Todd, but if you had, you might not be so frightened. Todd — Todd gets lost in time. Sometimes just for minutes, but sometimes for days. And when he’s...lost, he’s reliving something that happened, maybe years ago, maybe only in a fantasy. If he does come to you, find out where he is. In his head, he may be only twelve years old, coming home for Christmas.”

  She held the phone to her cheek a long time before she could speak. “But he may be sixteen?”

  She heard Neil’s voice break then. “Yes. He may be sixteen.” For just a moment he sounded as defeated as she felt. “Have you called the police department yet?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll call them for you. Then I have to run by my apartment. But I’ll get to your place as soon as I can.”

  Had she even hoped he’d do that? She couldn’t tell, now. “You’re coming here?”

  “Of course.” His voice was lower, comforting her across the miles and the years that separated them.

  “But it’s — it’s Christmas,” she stammered.

  “I know.”

  “And it‘s—it’s—”