Whisper of Love

PREFACE

Home for the holidays ... her reason for going back to Heavens Cove, the small Alabama town that was home, had little to do with celebrating the season. All Gemma wanted for Christmas this year was a nice, quick divorce. Eight years ago, at only 22, she’d made one of the biggest mistakes of her life – marrying too young, too soon, to a man she barely knew.

If she was going to get on with her future – and the possible new love in her life. It had been three years since she’d left her husband, well past time to put a period on the disaster that was her marriage.

Thatcher had made one of the biggest mistake of his life – letting Gemma go. He’d had no choice at the time, but now that she was back, giving her the divorce she wanted wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.

She’d earned her way out of their marriage, he readily admitted that. And, he couldn’t give her a guarantee that he wouldn’t screw things up again, even though he wanted to more than anything. Then there was Laney to consider. She was more than perfect for him. She’d stood by him when no one else had.       

Should he let Gemma go – free her to find the type of love he could never give her, and build a future with Laney? He could be happy with her and make a fresh start. Or, should he fight for the love he and Gemma once shared? Was it too late? Would she dare give him another chance?

Mama you know better than anyone what happened between me at Thatcher. I couldn’t go back to that kind of relationship. And my life is in New York now, not to mention, there’s ... there’s someone else.

Someone else? So that’s what this sudden interest in getting a divorce is all about. You’ve met someone else and are ready to move on?

Well not exactly. I mean, I’m not involved right at this minute. There is ... something I think I’d like to explore. But I can’t do that still being married – even though me and Thatcher have only been married on paper for years now.

I see, said Emmaline, her mother.

Why did you say it like that? Gemma asked. You’ve already butted in mama, you might as well go ahead and tell me what you think.

Well remember, you did ask, Emmaline stated, before rushing on. Don’t open one door – not even partially – until you have completely closed the other. Just by your reaction to seeing Thatcher, I can tell you still have a lot of unresolved feelings for him. And if there is even a whisper of love left in you for that man, you need to explore that before trying to move on with anyone else. Otherwise, you’ll always regret it because I know how much you loved him.

Gemma was more confused than ever as she crawled into bed that night. The simple wish she had come home for Christmas to have granted was turning out to be not so simple after all.

Chapter 1

What’s a pretty young woman like you doing out here in the woods all by yourself? a voice leaning against a tall spruce pine asked.

Obviously not a good job of spotting potential danger. You scared the holy ghost outta me? What are you doing standing there – just leaning against a tree? Gemma snapped at the stranger, her heart thundering in her chest.

I didn’t mean to frighten you, he said. 

Well you did, and you didn’t answer my question, what are you doing out here? It was then that Gemma spotted the shotgun leaning against the tree just beside his left leg.

He followed the trail of her eyes.

Hunting, he said, his eyes shaded by lashes so thick they looked like a straight line of soot across his eyelids.

Your turn to answer my question. What are you doing out here all by your lonesome? It’s getting dark; no woman should be walking out here alone – especially one as young and vulnerable-looking as you

I’ll have you know that I’ve walked, run, biked, ATV’d and rode horses through these woods since I was knee high to a gnat, Gemma snapped. And besides, everybody knows everybody in Heavens Cove. It’s perfectly safe. The only people who get in trouble around here are those who go looking for it.

Nothing is rarely as safe as it seems Miss ah ... he waited for Gemma to supply her name.

She remained quiet, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. Was that mirth she saw in his light-brown eyes, she wondered as he grabbed the shotgun and pulled his long frame from the tree, traversing the few feet between them?

As I was saying, almost nothing is safe as it seems when there are humans involved. And humans do inhabit your Heavens Cove, do they not?"

Nah, it’s inhabited only by the deer and rabbit you’re hunting, Gemma snarked.

So are you a deer –as light on your feet as a gazelle, or are you a rabbit, who pounces from one spot to another, only stopping to replenish its belly with a carrot here or a blade of grass there? Which part of the fairy tale that is Heavens Cove do you inhabit, little one?

Gemma was at a loss to respond to his sarcastically sweet comeback. Somehow, he’d manage to make her feel young, naïve and stupid at the same time. The fading sunlight caught a fleck of gold in his light-brown gaze. She registered the barely suppressed laughter there, deciding to ignore his question altogether. Who are you? You’re obviously not from around here? The pine of the forest mixed with what had to be the musk-oriented scent emanating from him made her acutely aware that she could indeed be in danger as he towered over her, his shotgun in hand.

Gemma didn’t consider herself short at 5’4, but he had to be at least 6’2 or 6’3" – and she felt the vulnerability of every inch he had over her in that moment.

I’m Thatcher; most call me Thatch. And you’re right, I’m not from around here, he said, clicking open the shotgun.

Gemma jumped.

He put the butt of the gun across his left shoulder and placed two hands over the barrel. He started walking, kicking at pine cones as he went along.

Gemma relaxed as her eyes followed his motions, noting the breadth of him. For the first time she noticed his orange hunting vest. She must have been lost in thought. If she’d been looking, she would have spotted him long before she’d gotten close enough for him to frighten her. She followed, hurrying up five or six steps so she could walk right beside him. So where exactly are you from Thatcher? she asked.

Southern manners dictate that once somebody tells you their name, you do the same, do they not? At least, that’s the way my mother raised me, he remarked, referencing the fact that Gemma had yet to tell him her name.

I’m Gemma; Gemma Stevenson. This is my family’s land you happen to be hunting on.

I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. ... Gemma, that’s an interesting name. Don’t think I’ve ever met a Gemma before.

It’s ok ... about the hunting, Gemma said as his brows furrowed. Dad won’t mind you hunting here. It happens all the time. It’s the way of hunting in Heavens Cove.

You love your Heavens Cove, don’t you Gemma? he observed, feeling the need to feel her name on his tongue.

Yes. Shouldn’t everyone love their hometown, or at least appreciate it? No matter where I go, Heavens Cove will always be home.

You’re a lucky young woman Gemma Stevenson. Many aren’t as fortunate, he said as they came to a clearing with a forked path. Which way are you going? he asked.

This way, Gemma pointed to the left.

He turned to the left and continued walking. What’s the story behind your name?

What makes you think there is a story? Gemma inquired, observing his features.

He had a square jawline, almost-full lips and a high, flat forehead. Separately, his features were flawless, but somehow, the way they all came together made him just shy of handsome. His features were ... compelling Gemma decided. Yes – compelling. That was definitely the right word for him. There was something about him that compelled you to pay attention when he was in your presence.

Where are you going? Gemma asked, curious. There was only her mom and dad’s house at the end of this path. Then, it was the highway. The next family’s house was a good three miles away, so it didn’t make sense that he’d be going this direction.

With you, at least until you get safely home – or wherever there are other ah, rabbits and deer.

Gemma laughed at his earlier reference to Heavens Cove being populated by rabbits and deer. The trees picked up the tinkling sound and carried it through the forest as an echo. Her immediate reaction was to resist; to tell him it wasn’t necessary, that she’d walked this path a thousand times alone and had never feared man or beast. But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

With a name like Gemma, there’s got to be a story. It’s too unusual, he explained, going back to his curiosity about her name. Indulge me. Tell me your story unique Gemma.

Once again, Gemma fell into step beside him as he ambled along the path to her home, his overly long, dark-brown hair floating in the wintry breeze.

It’s quite simple actually. I’m an only child. My parents had been married for over a dozen years before I came along, so I was quite the surprise, to say the least. My father called me his little gem. My mother actually came up with the name Gemma. ... So what’s the story with your name? Thatcher is not exactly common either, she noted.

I hate to disappoint, but it’s nothing as sentimental as yours. I got a hand-me-down moniker; I was named after my father.

Gemma noted the trace of bitterness in his voice.

Well it suits you. It’s solid, rugged, even exotic, she said.

Thatcher stopped in the middle of the dirt path. "Is that the way you see me? Solid and rugged I’m used