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    A Love to Last Forever
    A Love to Last Forever
    A Love to Last Forever
    Ebook295 pages4 hours

    A Love to Last Forever

    By Linda Wisdom

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    About this ebook

    Once Stacy McAllister had been Carver High's Most Likely to Succeed and Mike Harper has been the class outcast. But at the reunion a devastating new Mike Harper, a man she'd never known, swept Stacy off her feet. With the sadness and failures of her past, Stacy felt worlds removed from her golden days. Love seemed a luxury she could no longer afford. Mike had become an astonishing social and professional success, the talk of the town. Soon he'd go back to St. Louis, taking a chunk of her past and a piece of her heart with him. She'd already given him a lot, but Mike wanted more. But she was a two-time loser. Did she dare to dream of a love that could last forever?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLinda Wisdom
    Release dateMay 5, 2014
    ISBN9781311433060
    A Love to Last Forever
    Author

    Linda Wisdom

    Linda Wisdom has published more than 70 novels with 13 million copies sold worldwide including traditional, paranormal, humor, action/adventure romance, and romantic suspense. Her bestselling books have been nominated for Romantic Times awards and the Romance Writers of America Rita Award. She lives with her husband in Murrieta, California.

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      Book preview

      A Love to Last Forever - Linda Wisdom

      A Love to Last Forever

      By

      Linda Wisdom

      A JOYRIDE BOOKS CLASSIC LINDA WISDOM ROMANCE

      Smashwords Edition

      * * * * *

      PUBLISHED BY:

      Joyride Books

      A Love to Last Forever

      Copyright © 2014 by Linda Wisdom

      License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

      * * * * *

      A Love to Last Forever

      EXCUSE ME, ARENT YOU STACY MCALLISTER?

      Yes? Stacy turned around to face a man who stood slightly over six feet. He had the warmest hazel eyes she had ever seen and a smile guaranteed to turn any woman's knees weak. Unable to give a name to the face of one of her former classmates, Stacy glanced at the name tag pinned to the lapel of his tan raw silk jacket. The pudgy face, glasses, and weak grin in the yearbook photo, along with the accompanying name, didn't mesh with the handsome man now watching her reaction.

      Could this be the adult version of the boy they had mercilessly teased and labeled the class creep?

      Clarence? she whispered in amazement. Clarence Harper?

      For reasons I think you can understand, I go by my middle name now, which is Michael, or Mike. He held out his hand.

      Lo and behold, Stacy thought. Clark Kent had grown up to become Superman.

      PROLOGUE

      April, 1966

      Chuck, don't do this, please, the young girl pleaded with the boy wearing jeans and a Varsity letter jacket as she trailed along behind him. You could get into a lot of trouble.

      Stacy, we're not going to hurt him, he assured her. It's just a joke, you know? No big deal. He continued walking to the field where several boys were waiting for him.

      Stacy McAllister brushed strands of waist-length auburn hair from her face as she ran to keep up with her boyfriend. She and Chuck Page had been an item since their freshman year, and with their senior year almost ending, she realized a chapter in her life would soon be ending and another beginning. She had recently been accepted to Northwestern University and she looked forward to attending in the fall, but she was also sorry that she would be parted from the boy she loved. That is, the boy she loved except when he got it in his head to play one of his practical jokes on one of their classmates.

      She couldn't understand what was so wrong with Clarence Harper. Oh sure, he was younger than the rest of them since he had skipped some grades because of his high IQ and learning abilities. He was overweight and not the best-looking boy in the world, but Stacy thought there was more to him than some people saw. She wondered if he could be shy; after all, his classmates were older than him and didn't want to take any time to get to know him better. The little she knew about him was because they shared a few classes. Chuck accused her of being too kind, and perhaps she was, but she couldn't bear hurting other people. She hated the idea of Clarence being the butt of another one of Chuck's and his friends' nasty jokes, but she was powerless to do anything. Knowing that his mood wasn't the best when he was thwarted, she stayed out of his way.

      Hey, creep, don't you know you're not supposed to walk along this road? Chuck shouted when a boy could be seen plodding along the dirt road. There's ghosts and stuff. And they don't just come out at midnight either. Muffled laughter could be heard behind the trees. You never can tell what they might do to you.

      The boy continued walking along, ignoring Chuck.

      I'm talking to you, Clarence, Chuck sneered.

      Chuck, you never say anything I want to hear, Clarence said in his cracking, adolescent voice.

      Angered by his indifference, Chuck nodded to his hidden friends. Before Clarence knew what was coming, buckets of mud descended on him from behind the trees.

      Chuck! Stacy cried out, appalled. She set her books down and ran over to Clarence, who stood there with gooey mud sliding over his glasses and down his face and clothes.

      She turned to the older boy. How could you? she demanded.

      Ah, Stace, it's just a joke. And since Clarence is a joke himself, he can take one. After all, it's only mud and mud never hurt anyone, he said roughly. Let's get out of here. I sure wouldn't want any of that mud to get on me.

      No, she said stubbornly, glaring at him with uncharacteristic defiance.

      I said, let's go, Chuck said a bit more forcefully, grabbing her arm.

      Go on, Stacy, Clarence said in a low voice as he looked down at the ground. I'm okay. He's right, it's only mud.

      She looked from boy to boy, torn between her feelings for her boyfriend and pity for the smaller one who she felt needed her help.

      I'm sorry, Clarence, she said softly, before walking toward Chuck who was heading for his pickup truck.

      Clarence watched them drive off with something akin to sadness in his eyes. Stacy was so pretty and nice that he couldn't imagine what she saw in a jerk like Chuck. Watching them leave, Clarence vowed to do something with his life and come back and show this town, especially his so-called classmates that he wasn't a creep after all.

      CHAPTER ONE

      April. I986

      Just another ordinary day in Small Town, U.S.A., Stacy murmured dryly, looking out the window facing the street, smiling and waving at a silver-haired matron passing the office. She rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter and began typing with one eye set firmly on the clock. Six minutes to five and the countdown continued.

      Stacy, you got the Patterson's claim form finished yet? A man's voice boomed from a separate office in the back.

      Just about. She pressed the correction key, took out the extra o in Patterson, and replaced it with an n before scanning the form to make sure everything was correct, then she pulled it out of the typewriter. She enjoyed her self-correcting typewriter after the manual she had fought with for two years; the only reason she had it was because her illustrious boss saw it as a sign of a prosperous business. Unfortunately, her salary didn't reflect that same so-called prosperity.

      Very good, she thought, done at five o'clock on the dot. In one fell swoop, Stacy draped the plastic cover over the typewriter and opened the bottom drawer to retrieve her purse. She turned in her swivel chair with the form in one hand. Here you are, Ernie.

      The stocky man appeared next to her desk and accepted the sheet of paper while making sure his fingers grazed hers. Stacy took great care not to reveal her distaste at her boss's heavy-handed ploy. Secretarial jobs in Carver were at a premium. While it wasn't the best job in the world, it did pay the bills.

      I guess you're going home now? Ernie asked, looking at Stacy as if he could see right through her coral-colored cotton blouse.

      I have to pick Robbie up from Little League practice. I'll see you on Monday. Stacy stood up and edged around him before he had a chance to casually pat her on the bottom as was his habit.

      But her problems weren't over just because she escaped her lecherous boss. Now Stacy had the ugly chore of coaxing her disreputable station wagon to life. Once she did, she guided the car out onto the street, heading for the park's baseball field where she was sure her ten-year-old son was probably waiting impatiently.

      Stacy groaned when the yellow traffic light turned red. She knew what was coming. Sure enough, when the light turned green the car stalled, much to the displeasure of the drivers behind her. The honking horns were a familiar sound to her ears.

      Move it!

      Hey, Stacy, why don't you get rid of that piece of junk and buy a real car?

      Good idea, Larry. I'll make sure the bank sends the payments to you! she yelled back. With a determined glint in her eye, she carefully stepped on the accelerator and drove off without any further mishaps. Stacy pulled into the dirt-packed parking lot, slowing in front of a small boy standing near the bleachers overlooking a baseball diamond.

      Robbie, how many times did you slide into home plate? Stacy asked with a resigned sigh, watching her dirt-covered son climb into the front seat. She silently wondered if she'd ever get the dirt out of his worn jeans. Even his tennis shoes were an interesting shade of grayish brown.

      I slid into first a couple times, he declared proudly. What're we having for dinner?

      Dinner. Stacy mentally reviewed the almost empty kitchen cabinets. Ah, probably spaghetti.

      Great! he exclaimed, bouncing up and down. But Gail will be mad. She says she's getting fat.

      Gail thinks anything labeled food will make her fat, Stacy muttered, turning the wheel to head away from the park. I could probably serve her filet mignon, which I can't afford, and she'd complain about that.

      I'd rather have hamburgers, Robbie told her, half hanging over the seat to drop his bat and mitt in the back.

      Sit down and buckle up, she ordered, flipping on the turn signal.

      Turning down a tree-lined street, Stacy drove the short distance to the one-story house she and her two children called home. She pulled into the driveway, wishing she could ignore the fact that the porch needed several new floorboards, the house required a paint job, and she'd have to talk Robbie into mowing the lawn that weekend along with all the other household tasks facing her.

      She and Robbie entered through the back door and immediately found themselves assaulted by the music of Duran Duran.

      Gail, turn that radio down! Stacy yelled, dropping her purse on the kitchen counter.

      Can I make a sandwich since you're yelling at her? Robbie asked, afraid he'd starve in the next ten minutes.

      No, you may not. She headed for the hallway muttering, I'm not going to yell at her—I'm going to kill her and I doubt anyone will blame me. She stood in front of a door decorated with a poster of Don Johnson and pushed it open. Amid the noise and clutter, she found her daughter lying on an unmade bed. Stacy leaned over and switched the radio off. Gail rolled over and stared at her mother blankly.

      Why did you do that? There was no mistaking the scowl marring her face or the belligerence in her tone.

      If I remember correctly, I asked you to do the laundry when you came home from school, Stacy gritted, her eyes roaming over the books and records scattered on the floor, the littered dresser, and a Coke can standing on the night-stand. As it's still in the basket on top of the washer, I gather you have an excellent reason for its not being done—such as you broke both arms or the washer has broken down. Oh, please don't let it be the washer on the blink again! She prayed silently.

      Gail shrugged, pushing strawberry blond hair away from her face. I just got home.

      Stacy knew Gail had been home long enough to do her chores.

      I want you off your butt now and in the laundry room in one minute, Stacy ordered, her green eyes glinting with anger. And after you load the washer, I want this disaster area you call a room cleaned up—that includes making your bed.

      Why, when I'll be going to bed in a few hours? she argued, sitting up.

      Stacy looked at the straight, tangled hair falling past her daughter's shoulders, the T-shirt with a stain near the right shoulder, and the dirty jeans she wore. I do hope you didn't go to school dressed like that.

      I'm dressed okay.

      Stacy's lips tightened at Gail's sullen tone. This was just one of the many battles mother and daughter had indulged in over the past six months.

      Dinner will be in an hour, she said tersely, moving away to march into her own bedroom.

      There the cool colors of pale gray walls, a lilac-and-sea foam-green-striped quilt, and white wicker furniture soothed her frazzled nerves. Stacy quickly stripped off her skirt and blouse, exchanging them for shorts and a T-shirt. When she returned to the kitchen she found Robbie using the coffeepot to pour water into a larger pot sitting on the stove.

      If I filled the big pot, I wouldn't be able to lift it, he explained matter-of-factly, turning the gas on. Are you going to make garlic bread too? he asked hopefully.

      As long as you help. She hugged him tightly and ruffled his hair. Mm, you're such a love!

      Hey, Mom, no slop, okay? He wrinkled his face in distaste at her feminine affection.

      You got it, big fella. She promptly dropped a kiss on top of his head.

      Mom!

      Oops, sorry about that. Stacy chuckled, opening the pantry to rummage for a jar of spaghetti sauce. She looked up to see Gail standing in the kitchen doorway.

      I made my bed so I'll start on the laundry now. Icicles dripped from Gail's words.

      Stacy opened her mouth to reprimand her daughter's tone, then thought better of it. From experience she knew it would only make the situation worse.

      Fine. She strove to sound neutral. Robbie, change out of those clothes so they can be washed too. She poured the sauce into a pan, adding herbs and spices for extra zest.

      We're having spaghetti? Gail's horrified voice made it sound like a fate worse than death.

      Yes, we are, Stacy replied as she started to prepare the garlic bread.

      Well, I don't want any, it's too fattening, Gail announced.

      It's also cheap, Robbie piped up.

      Smart-mouthed kid. Stacy frowned at her son before turning back to her daughter. If you read up on nutrition you'd realize that spaghetti is made up of complex carbohydrates and athletes stuff themselves with it before a big race.

      I'll just have a salad. Gail rummaged in the refrigerator.

      No, you will not! Stacy's voice cracked like a whip over the young girl's head. The stern expression on her face brooked no argument. Perhaps I don't serve gourmet meals around here, but they're not going to add twenty pounds to that skinny frame of yours. She gestured with a spoon. You will sit down and eat with Robbie and me. Don't worry, I won't insist you eat more than one helping, but you will eat what we eat. Do you understand me?

      Yes.

      Stacy exhaled, grateful there wouldn't be more of a battle. She didn't think she could put up with it just then. You could gain five pounds and no one would notice the difference, she informed Gail, who looked as if she had just received the death sentence.

      Dinner was saved due to Robbie's incessant chatter about school, baseball, and his plans for summer vacation.

      Summer vacation! Stacy groaned silently. In less than two months, the kids would be out of school and before a week passed, they'd be bored and complain they had nothing to do; household chores didn't count as summer activities. She hoped Gail would get a part-time job at the fabric store; Gail had mentioned talking to the owner about it. She also wondered if Robbie would find a summer job so he could add to his savings account balance, which at this point was probably larger than Stacy's.

      She watched Gail pick at the tiny portion of spaghetti on her plate, barely eat what she had, and mumble an excuse to leave the table as soon as possible.

      Can I have the last piece of garlic bread? Robbie asked.

      Sure, Stacy murmured, watching Gail walk out of the room.

      Do you think I could get J. Paul and John D. a larger cage? Robbie asked.

      I sincerely hope you're not telling me J. Paul is pregnant. Stacy wasn't repulsed by the caramel-colored hamster that was one of Robbie's loves, along with John D., a teddy bear hamster, but she wasn't overly fond of them either.

      No, I just want them to have more room, he explained. Can I?

      If you can find the room in that mess you live in and pay for it yourself, feel free to.

      After washing the dishes, Stacy settled on the front porch to enjoy the warm spring evening. She only hoped Gail and Robbie were doing their homework. A deep inhale brought the scent of night-blooming jasmine to her nostrils, the smell that always reminded her of the beginning of summer.

      I see you survived another day, a woman said from the side of the house.

      Hi, Lynne. Stacy greeted her neighbor whom she had known since grade school. Don't tell me your mob let you out?

      Even better. She climbed the stairs carrying two large wineglasses. Don actually made a profit this month and brought home a great bottle of wine to celebrate with. It's imported all the way from California. She held out a glass of the straw-colored liquid. Since he's overseeing the kids wash the dishes, I decided you needed some of this just as much as we did.

      That's putting it mildly. Stacy accepted the proffered glass. How was your day?

      Just your usual everyday chaos. Lynne sat on the swing next to Stacy. If Robyn doesn't clean up her room soon, she won't live to see her sixteenth birthday. Timmy's teething, Jenny tried to eat a caterpillar, and I have to meet with Peter's teacher tomorrow. He painted Carolyn Miller's face green.

      Stacy choked on her drink. I can imagine Sheila wasn't too happy about that.

      She's inferring that my kids are regular barbarians. Lynne shrugged, not fazed by the description. She called me today to talk about the reunion. More and more letters are coming in. If it keeps up this way, most of the class will be here.

      My God. Stacy shook her head. It's hard to believe almost twenty years have passed. Did she mention anyone special?

      Ted Greenway, remember him? And Rena James, and would you believe, Lynne laughed, thinking of her surprise, Clarence Harper is coming!

      Stacy frowned, trying to place the name. Who?

      Oh, Stacy, how could you forget him? Chuck used to call him Clarence the Creep, Lynne reminded her, using her foot to keep the swing moving. He was fat, had bad skin, wore glasses. He was bumped up to our junior class because he was so smart. He also had a huge crush on you.

      Stacy focused back in time and a vague picture of a chubby boy wearing glasses came to mind. And another view appeared: one of a boy covered in mud who calmly told her to leave. Funny, she hadn't thought about that in years.

      Oh, yes, she murmured, sipping her wine. I'm surprised he's coming back, what with the bad time we gave him.

      His sister still lives here, so that may be why he's coming. Think he's still short and fat?

      Stacy shrugged, uninterested with the subject. Chuck used to say his high IQ matched his size. I'm surprised he's coming since he didn't bother coming to our ten-year reunion.

      Who knows? Lynne sighed. Thinking that we've been out of high school for twenty years makes me feel very old.

      Stacy nodded in agreement. And look what's happened during that time. You married Don and became a baby machine for a while. I gave up my scholarship to Northwestern and married Chuck, moving down to that horrible army base in Texas, had Gail, divorced him and married Pete, had Robbie, divorced Pete and moved back here. I feel as if there's some kind of pattern there, she said wryly. The pattern of a loser, Stacy McAllister Page Douglas . . . and here I was supposed to be the girl to go places. Instead I made more mistakes than I can count.

      Not mistakes, Stacy, Lynne corrected softly. It wasn't your fault that Chuck turned out to be such an abusive bastard or that for some unknown reason Pete would desert you when you became pregnant. Besides, you've raised two great kids, so you must have done something right.

      Stacy laughed. Lynne wasn't about to allow her to feel sorry for herself.

      Lynne squinted across the moon-dappled lawn in the direction of her house. Is Don standing on our porch?

      Why aren't you wearing your glasses?

      Too much trouble.

      Too much vanity, you mean, Stacy teased, finishing her wine. How many times did you walk into the boys' bathroom because you refused to wear your glasses in public?

      I may be blind, but not that blind, Lynne said impishly, taking the wineglass from Stacy. I guess I should return to the zoo I call home. I promised Robyn I'd listen to her speech assignment that she's giving tomorrow.

      How do you do it? Stacy asked, amazed by her friend's flexibility. You're always available for whomever needs you. You manage juggling four kids and a husband beautifully, and I barely seem to have time for my two.

      I'm a multiple personality. Lynne jumped up. Be warned that Sheila's hoping to get you to work on one of her committees for the reunion.

      Not if I can help it, Stacy vowed. Thanks for the wine.

      My pleasure. Why don't you come over tomorrow and we'll barbecue?

      Sounds great. What would you like me to bring?

      Your sinfully delicious coconut cake. Take it easy, kiddo.

      Bye, Lynne.

      Stacy remained on the swing for the next hour listening to the companionable sounds of people talking and television shows filtering through open windows of neighboring houses. She hated nights like this when everyone had someone to be with while she had two children who seemed to have no use for her.

      Gail, at fifteen, disliked the world—especially her mother. Her strawberry blond hair held a hint of curl she discouraged by brushing it constantly. Almost as tall as her mother, she was much thinner, appeared to have few friends, and did poorly in school. Every time Stacy tried to talk to the girl, she reacted with a hostile reply, but Stacy hadn't given up on her daughter. She only approached her more cautiously to eliminate too many rebuffs in hopes of rebuilding their former loving relationship.

      Robbie, at ten, was the typical All-American boy. He hated baths, haircuts, and girls and loved the idea of big business, baseball, and his hamsters. He was determined to become a millionaire before he reached the age of twenty-one, and Stacy was confident he'd do it. Robbie was happiest when presented with old copies of The Wall Street Journal or when working an odd job that paid well. He was loving where Gail was indifferent, friendly where she was hostile.

      Stacy used to say that Gail was just like her father, something Chuck never liked hearing. Stacy's ex-husband wasn't one of her favorite subjects, and the fact that he too

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