No Looking Back
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About this ebook
On any given day life is a challenge, at best. For Marla Winters, found beaten on the side of the road, it’s a downright miracle. To look at her smiling face and cheery demeanor one would never know she has no idea where she comes from or what her real name is. She insists on staying in the present until her past comes hurtling toward her with a vengeance. A past she has no memory of. Knowing only that she was found at the side of the road, beaten and battered, with only the torn and tattered clothes on her back.
New in town and running from a nasty divorce, Peter Jensen is skeptical of Marla Winters claims of danger. As the cop assigned to her case, he’s confident he can get to the bottom of it. When Pete digs deeper into her past, what he never expected to find was love. But solving the mystery surrounding Marla proves more difficult than he thought, as does keeping her alive...
Patricia Gauthier
Patricia Gauthier is a retired teacher. She has served the church in teaching, church leadership, church planting and speaking. She holds an MA from Wesleyan University and a MTS from Regent University, School of Divinity. She has published a thesis with Proquest LLC. One Baptism: The Power of Water and the Spirit is her first book written for a wider readership.
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No Looking Back - Patricia Gauthier
On any given day life is a challenge, at best. For Marla Winters, found beaten on the side of the road, it’s a downright miracle. To look at her smiling face and cheery demeanor one would never know she has no idea where she comes from or what her real name is. She insists on staying in the present until her past comes hurtling toward her with a vengeance. A past she has no memory of, knowing only that she was found at the side of the road, beaten and battered, with only the torn and tattered clothes on her back. New in town and running from a nasty divorce, Peter Jensen is skeptical of Marla Winters claims of danger. As the cop assigned to her case, he’s confident he can get to the bottom of it. When Pete digs deeper into her past, what he never expected to find was love. But solving the mystery surrounding Marla proves more difficult than he thought, as does keeping her alive…
NO LOOKING BACK
By Patricia Gauthier
Copyright 2012 Patricia Gauthier
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Excerpt Refusing to Repent 2012 Patricia Gauthier
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Other Titles by Patricia Gauthier
Celebration of Life – Book One of the Celebration Trilogy
Celebration of Love – Book Two of the Celebration Trilogy
Celebration of Passion – Book Three of the Celebration Trilogy
No Looking Back
Refusing To Repent
VISIT HER WEBSITE:
http://www.patriciagauthier.com
CHAPTER 1
Hi, may I help you?
Or What can I get for you?
rolled off Marla’s tongue a million times a day. Marla always said it with a smile and gave each customer her full attention. She loved everything about running her own bakery. The smells were incredibly mouth-watering, blending together a variety of freshly baked bread, chocolate macadamia cookies, apple dumplings with warm carmel sauce, and, her all time favorite, cinnamon rolls. The bakery, Sin-A-Mon & Spice, was the first and only organic bakery in her small but busy town of Wynott, population 15,000. Oh, make that 15002, Lucy at the diner just delivered twins last week. Marla loved that she knew all the business owners on a first name basis, even delivering to a few every morning. She loved learning everyone’s little quirks and personal habits that made them unique. John Martin liked his morning coffee very strong and black but had a glass of milk on the side, along with his toasted everything
bagel. Lizzie Michaels could be counted on to show up every morning at eight sharp for her free bagel with egg scramble and cup of coffee. She’d had a very rough road to recovery from a recent injury and money was tight, so Marla went through the motions of ringing her up, allowing her to maintain her pride.
All of her regular customers knew they could count on her to get their orders quickly, so they were in and out the door in no time. She had Megan working the coffee station and Grace and Laura at the counter with her every morning. Betsy worked in the back as the head baker. She was like a mother to all of them, always having her shoulder available to cry on and, if necessary, a swift kick in the ass when needed. She was Marla’s main source of information, okay gossip, with a 100% accuracy record. It amazed her that her baker was so well informed, and never had contact with any of the customers during working hours. Betsy knew everything! She had been invaluable to Marla when she first opened the business, helping her place names with faces, along with a short summary of each person’s life. Nothing nasty mind you, Marla didn’t like that kind of talk, but who was married to whom and where they lived in relation to the bakery. Stuff like that. Occasionally she’d let something slip about a bad break-up they were going through or speculating about a pending divorce and the story behind it.
Marla realized right away that people didn’t care if her bakery was all organic and no genetically modified ingredients were used, they only cared about how it tasted. She insisted on organic and no GMO because she knew those were the best possible ingredients she could use. They tasted the best, most like ‘grandma’s’ baking, and she insisted on the best for her customers. She felt good about selling quality products and that was all that mattered to her. It was more work doing things organically. Products had a shorter shelf life or had to be delivered daily instead of weekly, but Marla didn’t mind. The bakery was her life. If she had friends before she was found by the side of the road three years ago, beaten, bloody and unconscious she had no memory of them. The only thing she had with her was a handbag and the torn and tattered clothes on her back. She had no idea how she’d gotten there or where she had come from. She was terrified at first. Realizing she had nowhere to go and no one to call for help, completely alone with no memories to draw from left her empty and desperate. Word of her dilemma got around quickly, probably with the help of Betsy, and the town embraced her immediately. Before she knew it, she had clothes, a place to live, and people who genuinely cared about what happened to her. She got a job at the grocery store, sold baked goods out of her kitchen and took private cleaning jobs on the side. Soon Marla had earned a reputation as a hard and honest worker. After two years of saving and slaving for other people, she’d decided to open her own business, and since she had a love for baking and a good clientele from working out of her kitchen at home, she decided on the bakery. Sin-A-Mon & Spice had been an immediate success, first out of curiosity on the part of the town, and then because her products were delicious and creative. She was always adding new items to the menu, usually based on the seasonal crops available, along with the standard breads and rolls of most bakeries. She never wanted to be stagnant about her selections. That was boring, and she was anything but boring.
Today’s scuttlebutt around town was about the new police officer that had been hired from New York City. Marla chuckled silently as she heard bits and pieces of speculation about him. Three female employees from the bank conversed in front of her as if she weren’t even there, too excited to tell each other what they knew about the man.
I heard that he’s single and was wounded in New York and that’s why he’s coming to Wynott.
Really? Someone told me he was married but separated from his wife.
Jessica saw him unloading a box from his car but she couldn’t get a good look at his face. She said he’s tall through.
All three of them wandered out of the bakery still chatting animatedly.
Curiosity was high about his circumstances and, to everyones frustration, he was not very forthcoming with information about himself. Nothing incited curiosity like secrecy, and several citizens were crawling around on the internet trying to dig-up anything they could on Peter Jensen. Never mind that they’d never even laid eyes on the man, who was moving here this weekend. It was for the safety of the town, they argued, as the group exchanged information as if it were a town meeting instead of the lobby of the town bakery. Marla chuckled to herself, knowing there were more than a few pairs of binoculars being pulled out of drawers around town for the big arrival of Peter Jensen. Poor guy had no idea what he was in for. Oh, they’d be friendly all right, too friendly. She knew from experience that he would barely have a minute to himself as ‘friendly’ citizens made a point of introducing themselves, sometimes at all hours of the day and night. Marla had been through it already and was thankful she was still alive to talk about it. They all meant well, and without their support and encouragement she would have never made it through her ordeal. At least she hoped she’d made it through. Not knowing who you are, where you came from, or how you got there had been hard for her to accept. Finally after a year of investigation by the police, and even a couple of private investigators Marla had hired, she was no closer to answers than the day she had been found on the side of the road. Eventually Marla decided that it really didn’t matter where she had come from as much as how she lived her life now. She knew the police and FBI had no record of her fingerprints so that was good news. She made the conscious decision to look forward instead of back, happy with the life she had created out of nothing.
Monday mornings were busier at the bakery than most other days. People had a tendency to linger, chatting and catching up on the latest ‘news’ that had occurred over the weekend. Today was no exception. She took a moment to adjust her long auburn hair that was working its way out of the bun she had wrapped it up in earlier that morning. She was pushing in a few pins when she suddenly noticed that the bakery had fallen perfectly silent. Marla turned toward the crowd slowly, a shiver running up and down her spine at the eerie silence. A tall, handsome to the point of Adonis, muscular man, approached the counter. Marla realized this must be Peter Jensen. He reeked sex appeal and authority with his dark hair slicked back, still drying and hanging slightly on the collar of his crisp white shirt. He wore a black and white striped tie and black dress slacks with shiny black loafers. This guy’s persona screamed cop or her name wasn’t Marla Winters, okay, maybe her name wasn’t really Marla Winters. His mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes effectively, reflecting back to Marla her own reflection. She swallowed hard and immediately stepped up to the counter to wait on him.
Hi, may I help you?
Marla asked cheerfully. No smile was returned as his deep baritone voice snapped curtly.
What’s good?
Nothing’s good. Everything’s exceptional.
She replied instinctively.
He looked at her and paused. Apparently he didn’t notice that everyone was hanging on his every word.
Funny, looks just like every other bakery I’ve ever been in.
He shrugged his muscular shoulders.
Could this guy be any more rude? Marla took an instant dislike to him but pushed her feelings aside, firmly planting her feet while gathering her defenses.
I’ll tell you what, apparently you’re not familiar with our products, so I’ll give you your choice for free today and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to come back. Ever.
She hoped he hated whatever she gave him. Marla chose a man- sized strawberry swirl cinnamon roll with strawberry glaze that was being featured this week and carefully put it in a bag.
Would you like a cup of coffee, tea, or hot chocolate with that, gratis of course,
She asked as she walked over to where Megan was standing at the ready with a cup in hand.
Coffee, black,
Peter answered, still without smiling. His lips pressed together tightly in a grim line. Jeez, does this guy even know how to smile?
Marla grabbed the empty cup from Megan’s hand, filling and capping it quickly. She handed everything to him with a fake smile and instructed him to have a good day
without much conviction.
Peter turned and walked out the door without even uttering so much as a thank you. Everyone just stared at each other, then at Marla, to try and read her reaction. She shook her head and smiled to herself, blowing out her breath, praying that he wouldn’t come back. She pasted back on her smile and began waiting on customers, refusing to add fuel to what she was sure was already shaping-up to be quite a fire around town for the gossips. She wasn’t going to let one bad apple spoil what was turning out to be a beautiful summer day. She would hear all about how the town felt about her encounter with Peter Jensen tomorrow from Betsy.
********
Peter hated starting a new job. He knew he’d be stuck at some desk somewhere, expected to pour over policy and procedure manuals until his eyes crossed. Meeting new co-workers and being expected to be polite and cordial when he really felt just the opposite. Pete was not a people person. He was a highly skilled investigator who had paid his dues long ago in New York as a beat cop, working his way up the promotion ladder one rung at a time. Pete had liked living in New York overall. Everyone was a stranger and he liked it that way. A city filled to the brim with people smart enough to mind their own business and keep their distance. What he didn’t like was the high cost of living and the fact that the only way to get promoted now at the NYPD was if someone died or retired. He didn’t want to wait fifteen years for another promotion. That was the only way to move up in New York, by filling someone else’s shoes when they left.
By moving to Wynott, a growing community that wasn’t so small he’d be bored, he hoped to advance faster without the excessive hours he would have been expected to work in a big city. He had other interests besides police work and he wanted the better balance of work and play a small town could afford him. Plus he wouldn’t have to drive for hours to find a stream to dip his fishing line into or woods to hunt in. He looked forward to the peace and quiet of Wynott, one thing he never liked about the big city was the noise and confusion of the streets. No matter how hard you tried to block the noise, it followed you everywhere and at all times of the day and night, with that combination of exhaust fumes and rotting trash from overflowing dumpsters along with the noise. Blech! He shivered at the thought and took a bite of the huge roll he’d gotten at the bakery. Holy shit! He closed his eyes and savored the flavors bursting inside his mouth. This was, bar none, the best pastry he had ever tasted in his life! He decided he could put up with the chipper attitude from the bakery help for one of these every day. What did the woman at the counter have to be so happy about anyway? He didn’t see the need to inflict her happy little attitude on people that definitely weren’t morning people. It was aggravating and annoying to people like him, but by the time he finished his roll he was in a much better frame of mind. He had to admit she was beautiful even though she was obviously a morning person. She was a beauty even with her hair falling out of the bun on the top of her head. The rich auburn color looked silky, soft and shiny. When she smiled even her eyes twinkled happily. She was tiny but shapely with her ample breasts pulling slightly at the fabric of her shirt. Watching her wait on the previous customer told him she was a spitfire. He liked feisty women, but thinking like that could lead to trouble he didn’t need right now. Women weren’t part of his game plan right now, if ever.
Pete savored the coffee as he drove to his first day of pure hell, thankful that at least he’d had a good final meal. He parked his car and downed the last sip of coffee for courage, and pressed onto his destiny.
The greeting he got at the police department was pretty much the same that he’d gotten from the townsfolk at the bakery, complete silence. He introduced himself to the officer at the desk and waited patiently for someone to lead him back to a desk or cubbyhole of some sort. Instead he watched a tall, slim fortyish woman approach him with her hand already extended for a shake.
Inspector Jensen? I’m Captain Janet Perkins. Welcome aboard.
She smiled conservatively as she shook his hand firmly but briefly. She seemed stoic and all business, just what he looked for in a supervisor. All business. Good.
Please follow me.
Captain Perkins motioned down the hall, holding the door open for Pete to enter.
The rest of the day went downhill from there. If he thought reading manuals was bad, he soon found out nothing was worse than crossing guard duty. He was sent out to deal with crying, whining, snotty kids being escorted to his corner by overprotective parents who thought their precious little babies could do no wrong. Not once. Not twice. But three times in one day. Give me the policy and procedure manuals anytime over this crummy duty.
********
After three weeks of stopping at the bakery every morning, Pete found himself searching for Marla behind the counter. He knew her name only because of the nametag she wore, since they never exchanged many words in the morning. She usually had his order waiting for him on the take-out counter and he found himself looking forward to the delicious surprise she packed for him every day. Their only exchange was at the cash register when she thanked him while she gave him his change. No more chipper attitude,