Where the Road Ends

Praise for Tara Taylor Quinn

“Tara Taylor Quinn’s deeply felt stories of romance and family will warm your heart.”

—Jennifer Crusie, bestselling author

“Quinn rips out her readers’ hearts, then hands them back, mended and stronger.”

—Rickey R. Mallory, Affaire de Coeur

“Quinn really pushes the envelope of romance writing. She enters territory where more cautious writers fear to tread.”

—Betty Webb, Sunday Arts, Arizona Tribune

“Tara Taylor Quinn writes with wonderful assurance and an effective, unpretentious style perfectly suited to her chosen genre. Her handling of male viewpoint is exceptional. She manages to make her heroes both intriguing and human, which isn’t always easy. She seems to genuinely like and understand men as a species, an attitude as refreshing as it is unusual.”

—Jennifer Blake, bestselling author

“Quinn’s daring plotting and careful handling of the related moral issues is extraordinary.”

—Cindy Penn, Amazon Top 50 reviewer

“Readers are always in for a treat when they pick up a book by Tara Taylor Quinn.”

—Rendezvous

“Quinn writes touching stories about real people that transcend plot type or genre.”

—Rachel Potter, All About Romance

Where the Road Ends

Tara Taylor Quinn

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For Kevin, who has to endure far too many challenges for the honor of being my spouse, but who approaches every step of the journey as if it’s a privilege.

And

For Rachel, whose childhood has been unique but who doesn’t seem to resent that fact.

I love both of you with all my heart.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to my “Michigan Research Family”—Alyson Hamacher, videographer extraordinaire and special vacuum coordinator; Rachel Reames, videographer, entertainer and owner of the disfigured finger; Patricia Bodell, for her notes; Kevin Reames, chauffeur, and Steve Meredith, navigator. As far as I’m concerned, the road never ends.

Thanks also to all the owners and employees of the many, many establishments we visited, some of which appear in this book. Without fail, everyone we approached was gracious, helpful and kind, from people we stopped on the street to the UPS delivery lady. Please note: while most of the places mentioned in this book are real, there were times I needed to use less-than-appealing establishments, and they are fictitious. The school in Lowell, Michigan, is also fictitious. Thanks to my in-laws, Deanna Reames and David Reames, and to Julie Greer for jumping in to help with last-minute location glitches.

And one more thank-you to all of those who supported me through this exciting opportunity: my agent, Irene Goodman; my editor, Paula Eykelhof; Debbie Macomber; Lee Anne Vangarderen for her nightly e-mails of encouragement; my many friends in Romance Writers of America; my mother and brother, Penny and Scott Gumser. Any time I started to doubt, one of you was there.

Dear Reader,

I’m excited to bring you this novel, which is very special to me. It’s one of those stories that had a life of its own from the beginning, taking me places I would never have dared to go before this. It first came about in a darkened and mostly empty theater as I sat through several nights of dance rehearsal with my daughter. I was entertaining myself, not working. I wasn’t plotting or developing characters. I never intended a book to be born. When I sat down at the computer one midnight after rehearsal, it was only to play around a little bit. How twelve pages appeared in less than an hour, I still don’t know. But they were the beginning of something that had more power over me than I could ever have imagined.

I’m partial to this story for another reason, as well. It’s set in Michigan—which I’ve always considered home. Though I’ve lived all over the country, most of my family—and my husband’s family—is still in Michigan. We own seventeen acres there, just outside Baldwin. You’ll see it about halfway through the book. And no, the owners don’t want to sell.

One more thing. I said this book took me places I wouldn’t choose to go. One of those was the world of child abduction. During the months I spent writing Where the Road Ends, researching procedures and statistics, I became concerned about my own daughter’s safety. Until I stumbled on a fairly new program sponsored by the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children—Know the Rules. Know the Rules is a public-awareness campaign designed to educate and empower teens and their parents, and to help in the prevention of child abduction. I found that in educating myself about some simple rules, I could alleviate a lot of the fears I had. I was able to allow myself and my daughter to live not in fear but with confidence, because my child knew what to do if danger presented itself. You can receive a Know the Rules publication free of charge through my new Web site, www.tarataylorquinn.com, or by contacting the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children at www.missingkids.com.

My hope is that, empowered with knowledge, we all continue to live happy and healthy.

I love to hear from readers! You can reach me at [e-mail] or at P.O. Box 15065, Scottsdale, AZ 85267. You’re also invited to check out my Web site. With trivia contests, prizes, free giveaways, message boards and more, we have a lot of fun there! Come join us.

Tara

Contents

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Prologue

She was going to have to let the nanny go.

Staring out the front-room window, taking in the beautiful rolling grounds of the Wainscoat estate, Amelia reined in emotion, trading its insidious confusion for logical thought.

Would it always feel as if her life was out of control?

Or was letting Kathy go the first step toward taking charge? The beginning of a new existence for herself and her son?

Fingers trembling uncharacteristically, Amelia pushed her dark hair over her shoulders, ruining the effect Donald, her hairdresser of ten years, had so painstakingly created. And if the tears that were threatening actually fell, the time she’d spent on her artfully applied makeup would be wasted, too.

As she stood there in her slim-fitting, dove-gray designer suit waiting for Kathy to appear, Amelia tried to focus on the facts. And she remembered the last conversation—almost a year earlier—she’d had with her husband.

They’d been in her suite in the high-rise building that was home to the head office of Wainscoat Construction. After a short day at his current construction site, Johnny had come to drop off Charles before going to the dock to take the new boat for a trial run, prior to teaching Charles to water ski the following day.

“I’m a little uncomfortable with how possessive of Charles Kathy’s getting,” he’d said slowly. “It’s almost like she’s jealous of your place in his life.”

“I’ve had to remind her once or twice that as his mother, I make the decisions,” she replied. “Kathy’s very involved with him, but that’s natural, don’t you think? They spend a lot of time together.”

He’d nodded, but hadn’t looked convinced.

“Do you think there’s a problem?” she’d asked Johnny. “More than just two women being territorial?” She’d studied his face, usually able to read his thoughts.

His broad shoulders square, Johnny had shrugged. “I think it’s possible. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”

Amelia’s stomach had started to hurt then—just as it hurt now. “So what do we do about her? It’s not like we can fire her, Johnny. She’s part of the family.”

“Well—” Johnny had drawn out the word meaningfully “—no, she’s not.”

“She’s been living with us since Charles was born.”

“She’s an employee.”

He’d been right, of course, but…

“One we’ve trusted with our son’s life,” Amelia said.

“And I think we still can, to a point.”

“To what point?”

Johnny’s eyes had been warm, concerned, as they met hers. He’d suggested they keep an eye on things. Listen carefully to everything their four-year-old son had to say.

And with that warning, she’d wanted to get rid of Kathy then and there.

“Don’t overreact, Amelia,” Johnny had said.

Her heart missed a beat now as she remembered the grin he’d given her. The one that had always melted her heart.

“I’m not suggesting anything drastic here,” he’d continued. “I don’t think it’s gotten out of hand….”

She remembered thinking, that Johnny was right. As usual.

Things hadn’t been bad enough to warrant firing Kathy. Not then.

But this past year, since Johnny’s death, the situation had changed.

At least Amelia thought it had.

Thinking back over the past months, she made a mental list of times she’d been concerned about Kathy’s actions and was surprised—and a little frightened—by how extensive the list had grown.

Most recently with Kathy’s insistence that Amelia not change the school her son was attending.

Johnny had been worried that Kathy was overstepping her boundaries.

And she had been; there was no longer any doubt of it. Amelia reviewed her list.

And then her mind switched back to Johnny that day in her office. Bruising her with memories of the husband she’d lost…

He’d reached for the door.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

She hadn’t known why she’d called out to him. She’d just wished things had been different, that he’d kissed her while they’d had that moment alone. That she’d said, “I love you.”

“You’ll be home for dinner?” she’d asked.

“I always am,” he’d said, heading back to the outer office.

He was always home for dinner. It was she—CEO of the multibillion dollar company for which Johnny was a construction worker—who missed out on family dinners. But what else could she do?

She’d met Johnny on a job site. He was a master carpenter and project supervisor for Wainscoat Construction. She’d known there would be some challenges in their relationship, but they’d loved each other passionately and she’d been certain that would be enough. She’d had no way of knowing, when she’d married Johnny and had Charles so soon afterward, that her father would die suddenly. Hadn’t realized that while Johnny’s pride demanded he continue to work, he had no intention of stepping into her father’s shoes, of working a desk job. Ever.

“Hey.”

She’d jumped, hitting her elbow on the doorjamb. Johnny had come back.

“What?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’d be home for dinner.”

“Yeah,” she’d said softly, very glad he’d asked.

“Good.”

He’d kissed her then, deeply, intimately, exploring her mouth with his tongue in ways that left her feeling, as his touch always did, more like a giddy teenager than the boss of an internationally known company.

It had been the last time she’d ever felt his lips on hers.

Kathy’s voice interrupted Amelia’s memories. “This might have to wait until tonight, I really can’t talk long.” Kathy had come into the room so quietly Amelia hadn’t realized she was there. “Charles’s swimming lesson starts in half an hour and I like to let him warm up first.”

Kathy’s once-forthright gaze was elusive. And Amelia’s resolve, along with her stomachache, deepened.

Sometime over the past year, the pretty woman who’d been living with them since Charles’s birth had stopped wearing makeup—and her fashionably attractive clothes were hanging on her slight frame. Things Amelia had noticed, yet not really acknowledged. She’d been too overwhelmed with grief and trying to get on with life.

She took a deep breath. “I’m going to be making some changes around here.”

The nanny’s gaze shot up, her brows straight beneath cocoa-brown bangs, her face a mask. “What kind of changes?”

In that second Amelia was certain about a decision she hadn’t even thought she’d made.

“Since Johnny died I’ve been forced to consider what’s important to me,” she began.

“Your company is important to you.”

“My son is important to me.”

“Of course he is, which is why I’m here to look after him for you.”

“But what about you?” Amelia asked, forcing her trembling hands to remain by her sides. “Your personal life has slowly dwindled down to nothing. You’ve not only tried to take Johnny’s place in Charles’s life, but you’re trying to make up for his absence in mine, as well.”

Cloyingly so.

Amelia hated herself for that reaction. Almost buckled under the guilt. Was she doing the right thing?

Because if she was letting fear or insecurity take over, she had to stop. Now. She needed to make rational decisions based solely on what was best for her son; she couldn’t afford to lose emotional control. She had to be strong for Charles.

And she wasn’t going to let Johnny down, either.

For a moment, silence filled the space between the two women, and Amelia remembered the history they’d shared. The years. The celebrations. The grief.

Kathy’s stoicism slid away into the silence, leaving a lonely woman with slumped shoulders. “My heart is here,” she said softly, as though that explained everything. Tears welled in her eyes.

Amelia almost hugged her. This was the woman she’d entrusted with her son’s life. The only family she and Charles had left in the world.

How could she fire her? What was she thinking?

Could she even manage without Kathy? Could Charles?

There was Cara, of course, Amelia’s best friend since childhood. But as Amelia’s right hand at Wainscoat, Cara was needed at work.

And what about Kathy? Was it fair to let her go after she’d dedicated five years of her life to them?

“You’re only twenty-eight, Kath,” she said, taking a step closer to the woman. The two of them were standing in the middle of the elegant front room.

Facing off or moving together?

“Until this past year, you’ve always had a lot of boyfriends. You wanted to get married and have children of your own, but you haven’t been away from Charles or me in months. And talk of any life outside this house doesn’t even exist anymore.”

Kathy’s eyes darted around the room, her forearm jerking up and then back to her side as though signaling an end. “Charles is my child.” The words were sharp.

Where was the woman Amelia had wanted to hug just seconds before?

Suddenly, Johnny’s warning was all she could hear, all she could think about. Her husband had been observant, intuitive about people, and the most dedicated father she’d ever known. She remembered the immediate reason for this meeting, Kathy’s remark, in front of Charles, that Amelia did not have the right to make important decisions regarding her son’s life.

How had it come to this? At one time, it had been a blessing just to have Kathy around. Amelia and Johnny had often marveled at how lucky they’d been to find her. They’d been so thankful.

“You know he’s not really your child,” Amelia said softly, treading carefully in territory she neither recognized nor understood. “He’s my son, Kathy. Mine and Johnny’s.”

Kathy motioned awkwardly again, her entire body jerking slightly, as though she’d been hit and was trying to hide the impact.

“Johnny’s dead.”

Amelia couldn’t argue with that. They’d brought her the shirt he’d been wearing that last day. Pulled out of the ocean almost a mile from the initial explosion. It was little more than shreds.

“In body, not in spirit.”

Kathy’s fingers fidgeted almost imperceptibly at her sides, then stopped and her chin rose belligerently. “You hired me to love Charles.”

“To care for him, yes,” Amelia admitted. And of course she’d been gratified, and greatly relieved, to leave Charles in the hands of someone who not only kept him safe, but loved him. Kathy had been young and inventive; she’d entertained Charles, made his life fun. Made all their lives fun with her impromptu games and celebrations.

“That love gives me rights.” There was no mistaking the challenge in the nanny’s tone.

“Some.”

“Do you love Charles?”

“Of course! And because he’s my son, he’s my responsibility.”

“He’s my responsibility, too. And I love him every bit as much as you do.”

Amelia sighed. “Kathy, I’m his mother.”

They stood there on the plushest of carpets, and continued to confront each other, one in business clothes, the other in capri pants and a pastel, button-down blouse.

“But, I’ve raised him.”

Amelia’s throat closed as she faced Kathy’s hard-eyed stare. The younger woman still maintained an outward calm. But she was way out of line. In her thinking. In her attitude.

Just as Johnny had suspected.

“You’ve helped, yes,” Amelia murmured, not at all sure how to proceed. “Tremendously. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s my son and you should have sons of your own.”

Kathy started—not trembling, nothing so uncontrolled as that. “Charles is as much my son as he is yours, Amelia,” she said in an odd, faraway voice. “Being a mother is more than a biological function. We both know I’ve filled that role for Charles much more than you have.”

Oh, God. Who was this woman?

Fear rose within Amelia as she accepted that her deceased husband’s fears had been realized. On the verge of losing what little breakfast she’d eaten, she stood straight, strong, in control.

“Which is why I’ve decided it’s time to change some things,” Amelia said, calmed by her own voice, her ability to sound as though she could handle anything.

She didn’t know whether she was having any effect on Kathy, but she was convincing herself.

“What things?”

Was that panic she read in Kathy’s eyes?

Could the bravado be just that, then—a brave front Kathy erected as a way to deal with the pain and tragedy that had been crippling this household for the past year? Amelia could certainly understand that. Some days it felt as if bravado was the only glue holding her together.

So was Kathy’s behavior merely her attempt to achieve a sense of control over uncontrollable circumstances?

Amelia just didn’t know.

“You’re never going to find a husband or a life of your own as long as you’re tied to Charles.”

“I have plenty of time to find a husband, to start a family. Right now Charles needs me.”

“It’s not good for a little boy to have someone who’s dedicated her entire life to him,” Amelia said, certain of that much at least. “He’ll be spoiled, growing up to expect his relationships to be centered on him. He’ll expect to be waited on, to have whoever’s in his life there for him whenever he deems it necessary or desirable.”

“He’s just going on five, Amelia. He’s supposed to be able to count on having someone there for him.”

“There for him, yes, but he also needs to be aware that those around him have their own lives. He sees me go to work, sees me with Cara. Johnny worked, went out with his friends. Charles sees you go nowhere. He sees you loving no one but him. You’re always here, always available. Your existence has no purpose other than him.” Amelia broke off.

The nanny was silent for so long Amelia started to sweat. She was completely unsure of Kathy’s mental state these days and couldn’t begin to predict what the woman was thinking. Or how she might react.

“It’s not healthy for you, Charles or even me to have you so completely dedicated to us,” she added, hoping that Kathy wasn’t too hurt by her words.

When Kathy moved suddenly, Amelia barely stopped herself from throwing up her arms in defense. She was taller and stronger than the nanny, but…

Kathy dropped onto one of the sofas, resting her forearms on her knees, head bent.

“You may be right.” The words were soft but clear. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I’ve closed myself off.” She glanced up at Amelia. “There always seemed to be…so much need here, and I need to be needed.”

“You are needed, Kath,” Amelia said, coming to sit beside the younger woman, taking her hand. “It’s just that I think we’ve fallen into a co-dependency that’s dangerous for all of us.” She winced at using a term she considered psychobabble, but couldn’t come up with a better one.

“Dangerous?” Kathy pulled her hand away, clasping it with her other one in front of her. “I don’t like the way that sounds,” she said, staring at her clasped hands.

Standing, Amelia crossed the room to look out at the expanse of green lawn she’d once taken such pride in. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been forced to face a lot of truths this past year. About my life. My marriage. Myself. And I’m finding that while there are some things I can’t control, there are other things I can—and I’ve let them slip out of my control.”

Kathy was silent. Neither friend nor employee. Or family member. Glancing at the bent head, Amelia wasn’t sure who Kathy was, what she needed.

So Amelia continued with what she did know.

“I’ve done a lot of searching since Johnny died, trying to find my identity, a new course for the rest of my life. Trying to find out what really matters.”

“Wainscoat Construction matters,” Kathy said, looking up. “It always has.”

“But my son matters more,” Amelia replied. Yes, the company meant the world to her, but Charles was life itself. And what good was a world without life?

“From now on, I’m a mother. First and foremost. I’m going to be delegating many of my day-to-day responsibilities at the office,” she said now, imagining Cara’s reaction when she heard Amelia’s decision. Would her best friend think she’d lost her mind?

Somehow Amelia doubted it.

This was right.

“I’m going to spend the next fifteen years here at home, raising my son. Caring for him, practicing the piano with him. Encouraging him. Teaching him.”

Kathy paled. “And where does that leave me?”

Amelia almost caved then. Almost.

“Finding the life that’s out there waiting for you…”

“You’re letting me…go?”

Amelia nodded.

The nanny looked as though she might faint.

Once the decision had been made—and delivered—Amelia wanted to get Kathy out of her home immediately. Safely away from Charles.

There was no justification for the urgency.

Still, the urgency drove her.

While Kathy was packing her essentials, Amelia called Cara at the office and then her secretary to have all her morning appointments rescheduled. She also arranged for Celeste and Clifford Smith—the couple who’d been looking after the Wainscoats for thirty years—to have the remainder of Kathy’s things packed up and sent to her. And she canceled Charles’s morning swim lesson.

Then she escorted Kathy into Charles’s playroom, where the little boy was painstakingly drawing a picture with a big purple crayon clutched in his left hand. Left-handed like his father. The picture was for “Daddy’s grave to leave when they had the annivers’y day” the following week.

As they filed slowly into the room, Charles looked up from his child-size wooden table, pushing his glasses up his nose with the side of the hand still holding the crayon.

He didn’t say a word, but Amelia’s heart lurched at the expression on her son’s face as he saw the two of them together. He knew something was up.