Replacing Gentry (29 page)

Making his way over to me, he dropped his dripping self down onto the chaise Anna-Beth had vacated. “Did Anna-Beth leave already?” he asked.

“No, she just went in to take a call.”

His focus shifted to the underside of my chair. “A call?” he questioned as he stretched under my seat and plucked a tiny black cell phone from the ground. He looked it over. “Then what’s this?”

Lifting my sunglasses to rest on the top of my head, I squinted at the phone. It wasn’t mine. “I thought I heard something hit the ground when she got up.”

A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes. “This must be her ‘secret agent’ phone.” He cocked his brow in a devious fashion. “Do you think we could hail Commissioner Gordon on this thing?”

I reached over and snatched the phone, giving him a scolding look. “Not funny, you know Anna-Beth’s work is very dangerous,” I said, but then couldn’t help from joining him in his folly. “What kind of signal do you think the authorities would send up to hail an agency like hers? A double helix maybe?”

Daniel closed one eye, cocking the brow of the other in thought. “Since we’re talkin’ ’bout Anna-Beth, a spiked stiletto seems more likely. That would throw folks off, have the women, at least, racing to Nordstrom instead.” He chuckled at his own joke as a basketball shot out of nowhere, bouncing with a watery splat on the chaise next to him. Flinching away from the spray, he laughed. “Watch it, boys, your old dad’s not as quick as he used to be.”

Tenting my hand over my eyes, I glanced over at the pool. Bridger and Bodie were leaning against the edge. Their hair was drenched and sticking out in all directions as they waved to get their father’s attention.

“Come on Dad, one more game,” Bodie yelled. “You too,
Madrastra
.”

Daniel gathered up the ball and pushed up from the chair. “Duty calls,” he said giving me a wink that sent a bolt of lightning straight to my heart. “You comin’?”

“I think I’ll sit her a minute longer.” I watched him splash back into the pool and then sat back again and turned my face toward the sun. Gazing out into the endless blue sky, I puzzled as to how my life had landed in the very last place I’d ever imagined. Me, married to a wealthy, influential, Southern man and with two sons?

Destiny. Fate.

The road I’d traveled from Finn to Daniel had been long and fraught with heartache and even danger but had ultimately steered me to where I felt I belonged. All those years of searching for a place I could call home, feel loved and accepted, had finally ended here in Nashville. I’d taken Gentry’s place as the matriarch of Daniel’s shattered family. Allowed Daniel to fill the void in my heart left by Finn’s betrayal. But can one person actually be replaced by another? The Iphiclesians thought so. But they were wrong. Yet here we were, Daniel, the boys, and I, moving forward, fitting the broken pieces of ourselves together to form a new whole.

So had my decision to hop on that plane a year and half ago been the result of destiny, chance? Or had my coming here been a result of divine intervention as my father, the minister, had suggested? Were fate and God’s will one and the same? What if I hadn’t chosen to attend the ball with Anna-Beth, then run from Daniel and found myself face to face with the walking, talking dead? Then I would have never passed out, never gone home with Daniel, or had him chase me down in the airport—never found myself living in Nashville. Never stumbled upon the mystery that led me to discover the truth about Finn, not to mention uncovering a diabolical group so brazen they believed they could bend the future to their will.

Like Paul controlling the strings of the cadaver to frighten me away, a small group of Iphiclesians had mistakenly thought they could manipulate this country, essentially turning our society into one enormous cadaver ball. But the philosophies of the Iphiclesians were not completely without merit. Learn from the past, better the future. It wasn’t too late. By understanding the past, we could still save the rising generations from the cycles of ingenuity followed by prosperity, gluttony, apathy, and captivity. I thought about my stepsons and what kind of world my generation, and those before me, would leave for them.

Then the day Daniel first asked me to marry him and how he’d said that, together, we could make a difference, reemerged in my mind, bringing a new perspective.
Maybe Daniel and I aren’t done with politics after all,
I was considering when Anna-Beth’s phone buzzed in my hand. I jumped, and without thinking, connected the call and pressed it to my ear. “Hello,” I said a nano-second before I realized what I was doing.

This was her work phone! I should
not
be answering it. My first thought was to slam it closed before the person on the other end had time to determine that someone other than Anna-Beth had answered. My fingers moved to disconnect the call. But then I sensed something—a presence I knew—emanating from the other end.

I listened. The line was silent but not dead. I couldn’t hear the other person breathing or even a rustle in the background, but I knew someone was still there.

“Hello,” I said again. “Who is this?”

And again there was no answer, no sound except for the unmistakable thumping of my heart drumming in my ears.

Then a sensation of undeniable recognition reached through the phone and took hold of me. Pressing my hand to the middle of my chest, I felt my heart fighting back. I swallowed into a throat that had gone dry.

“Johnny, is that you?”

Again, no answer.

“Finn?” I said though there was no doubt in my mind, my heart, that it was he. “I want,” I started then stopped, waiting for the giant lump in my throat to ease before finishing. “I just wanted to say thank you for trying to save me, for helping Anna-Beth. And, I want you to know that . . . I forgive you—”

The other end of the line went completely dead. He was gone. “Goodbye, Finn,” I whispered, replacing the phone back to where Daniel had found it.

Straightening, my attention was drawn toward a commotion over at the pool. From the looks of things, Cooper had backed too close to the edge, giving Daniel the opportunity to reach up and grab hold of her ankle. Teetering on the edge, she lost her balance and tumbled into the water. The sheer cover up she wore over her swimsuit ballooned on top like the open canopy of a shimmery parachute.

Coughing and spitting profanity as she rose to the surface, Cooper let Daniel know exactly what she thought of his practical joke. A hardy laugh rolled up from my gut. Life couldn’t possibly get any better than this.

Swinging my legs over to the side of my chaise, I got to my feet and tiptoed across the hot stone to join my family.

About the Author

J
ulie N. Ford graduated from San Diego State University with a BA in Political Science and a minor in English Literature. In addition, she has a Masters in Social Work from the University of Alabama. Professionally, she has worked in teaching and as a Marriage & Family Counselor. In addition to
Replacing Gentry
, she is the author of two women’s fiction novels,
The Woman He Married
and
No Holly for Christmas
, published in 2011. She also wrote a romance/chick-lit novel,
Count Down to Love
, published in 2011.
Count Down to Love
was a 2011 Whitney Award finalist.

Currently, she lives in Nashville, TN with her husband, two daughters and one baby hedgehog. For more information or to see what Julie is working on now, visit her at
JulieNFord.com
.

Acknowledgments

F
irst, I’d like to thank my niece Breeann. She was there when the idea first came to me, and the one person I went back to again and again with plot and title changes. She was also my first and second editor, and a constant cheerleader.

My daughter, Brittney, for her idea to use Iphicles. My husband, Tracy, for encouraging me not to quit and get a “real” job. And Annie, for laughing with me through my worst come-a-part, reminding me not to take myself too seriously.

I also want to thank Aunt Carolyn for schooling me in the planning of a proper Southern wedding. My good friend Jonanne for lending me the colorful names of her kin. My father-in-law, Ed, and brother-in-law, Monte, for their gun expertise. Monte, for his patient redirecting when I got it all wrong. Lastly, my beta readers, Becky, Kaylee, Vicki and Rhonda.

At WiD
ō
, I first want to thank Allie for seeing the potential in the mess that was this original manuscript, Amie, my longsuffering editor, and Karen for hanging in there until we got the most perfect cover.

Finally, the countless number of supportive friends and readers, including Kelly, Cass, Sue, Amanda, Melina, Alice, Heather, Becky, my sisters, Loree, Marnie, and Cory, and my parents, who encouraged me to keep going through one rewrite after another . . . after another.