Krista was waiting tables at the lodge and living in a very fine home—the lake house. Her boyfriend often spent the night and she had a feeling of peace and tranquility she hadn’t expected to enjoy in her lifetime. Jake had talked with the owners of the lodge and expressed an interest in staying on in a permanent capacity as the manager; the answer wasn’t in, but they seemed interested. There was a very good chance they would stay and build that house on the lot with the swing. She still enjoyed reading and writing but no longer felt a compelling need to tell the story of the Berkey family.
Today, on this late October day when the leaves were bright with color, the fall colors Meg had so wanted to see, many of them were coming back. Jo and Lou, certainly, though out of kindness they left Grandma Berkey behind. Hope was there, practicing empathy. John, of course, along with a few friends of Meg’s from the city. Beverly came without her husband this time; he was still deep in the harvest. Charley, flying solo—she’d left her husband and son hard at work at the University of Cambridge in England and would be returning to them right away. They’d gotten married the moment Charley arrived in Cambridge.
Together they would sprinkle Meg’s ashes on the still waters of Lake Waseka, where they’d had so many joyous years growing up. Jake would provide a brief service. They would all hold hands, bow their heads, give thanks for all the summers that were.
And for Meg, who brought them together again.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from ANY DAY NOW by Robyn Carr.
“A thought-provoking look at women...and the choices they make when they realize their lives aren’t exactly what they expected—or thought they were.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Four Friends
If you enjoyed The Summer that Made Us, don’t miss these bestselling tales of friendship, family and fresh starts.
The Life She Wants
Four Friends
Never Too Late
Swept Away
Looking for more compelling and insightful stories by Robyn Carr? Make sure to check out the Sullivan’s Crossing series:
What We Find
Any Day Now
And don’t miss the chance to explore Virgin River, California, where true love and second chances are waiting just around the corner:
Virgin River
Shelter Mountain
Whispering Rock
A Virgin River Christmas
Second Chance Pass
Temptation Ridge
Paradise Valley
Forbidden Falls
Angel’s Peak
Moonlight Road
Promise Canyon
Wild Man Creek
Harvest Moon
Bring Me Home for Christmas
Hidden Summit
Redwood Bend
Sunrise Point
My Kind of Christmas
“Robyn Carr writes books that touch the heart and the funny bone.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber
And make sure to visit Thunder Point, Oregon, where you’ll fall in love with the cast of unforgettable locals who call it home:
The Wanderer
The Newcomer
The Hero
The Chance
The Promise
The Homecoming
One Wish
A New Hope
Wildest Dreams
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Any Day Now
by Robyn Carr
Chapter One
So, this is what a new life looks like. Sierra Jones opened her eyes on a sunny Colorado morning to that thought.
She had given this a great deal of consideration. Colorado had not been her only option but she decided it might be the best one. Her brother Cal, with whom she shared a deep bond, was making a life here and he wanted her to be part of it. Sierra needed a new place to start over. A place with no bad memories, where she had no history and yet, had a strong emotional connection. Her big brother was a powerful pull.
When she was a child, it was Cal who’d protected her, loved her unconditionally, cared for her, worried on her behalf. He was eight years older but had been more than just her brother. He had been her best friend. And when he’d left home, or what passed for home when she was ten years old, she’d been adrift.
When she’d finally made up her mind to give this place a chance, Cal wanted her to come directly to his house. His house in progress, that is. But that didn’t sound like a good idea; there was only one bedroom finished so far. And, more important—she wouldn’t be a burden to anyone, and absolutely did not want to be in the way of a new couple who were just feeling their way into marriage. Cal and Maggie had been married less than six months and were living in the barn they were converting into a house. Sierra thanked them kindly and said she’d prefer to find her own lodgings and live on her own. A very important part of creating a new life was independence. She did not want to be accountable to anyone but herself.
That’s what she’d told them. The truth, hidden protectively in her heart, was that she was afraid to depend on Cal again as she had when she was a little girl. He had a new family, after all. She remembered too well the pain from her childhood when he’d abandoned her. It was awful.
Independence was a little frightening. But, she reminded herself, she did have her brother near and willing to lend a hand if she needed anything, just as she was more than eager to be there for Cal and Maggie. She was thirty years old and it was high time she built a life that reflected the new woman she was becoming. This was a joyful, challenging, exciting and terrifying change. If a little lonely at times...
She had a short checklist of things she wanted to settle for herself before seeing Cal. First—she wanted to look around the area. Timberlake was the town closest to where her brother and Maggie lived and she thought it was adorable. It was a little touristy, a little on the Wild West side with its clapboard shop fronts and Victorian-style houses, surrounded by the beauty of snow-topped mountains and long, deep fields. The first day she spent in the small town there was a herd of elk cantering down the main street. One big bull was bugling at the cows and calves, herding them away from the town and back to grazing land. They were at once majestic and klutzy, wandering in a little confusion through the cars. An old guy standing in front of a barbershop explained to her that with spring, they were moving to higher elevations, cows were giving birth, grazing was found in different areas. And in the fall, he said, watch out for rutting season. “Those bulls get real territorial.”
That was all it took for Sierra to begin to hope this would be the right place for her, because her heart beat a little faster just watching that grand herd move through town. The old guy had said, “You don’t see that every day.”
She’d found a comfortable, clean, cheap hostel that would let her pay by the week and they were just starting to get an influx of students and adventurers who wanted to take advantage of the Colorado springtime. She’d have to share a bathroom, but it wouldn’t be the first time; she wasn’t fussy and it would make decent housing until she could find something more permanent. The owner of the hostel, a woman in her sixties called Midge, had said there were rooms and apartments being let by local homeowners all over town.
The best part
about the hostel—there were people around, yet she would be on her own.
She’d found a part-time job right away—the diner needed early-morning waitstaff help a couple days a week. They’d lost their main morning waitress and the owner’s wife had been filling in. As it happened, Sierra loved the early morning. The money wasn’t great but it was enough to keep her comfortable and she had a little savings.
The most important thing she’d researched before coming to Colorado was locations and times of AA meetings. She even had an app for her phone. There were regularly scheduled meetings everywhere. In Timberlake and in all the small towns surrounding it from Breckinridge to Colorado Springs. They were usually held in churches but there were some in community centers, in office buildings, hospitals and even clubhouses. She would never be without support.
Sierra was nine months sober.
Sierra had reconnected with Cal about seven months ago, right before he and Maggie married. He’d visited her twice since and called her regularly. He’d begun lobbying for her move to Colorado a few months ago. For the eight years previous they’d been in touch but not much a part of each other’s lives and for that she had regrets. Those years had been especially difficult for Cal; the past five years had been brutal. His first wife, Lynne, had suffered from scleroderma, a painful, fatal disease, and had passed away three years ago. Cal had been a lost soul. If she’d been a better sister, she might’ve offered her support.
But that was in the past and the future was her opportunity. She hoped they could rebuild the close relationship they’d once had and become family again. Right before she’d started the long trek south to Colorado, Cal had shared a secret—he was going to be a father.
Sierra was thrilled for him. He would never know how much she looked forward to a baby. She would be an auntie. Since she would never have children of her own, this was an unexpected gift.
* * *
Cal Jones lay back against the pillows, his fingers laced behind his head, sheet drawn to his waist. He watched Maggie preen naked in front of the full-length mirror, checking her profile.
“We got a thing going on...me and Mrs. Jones...” he said, his voice husky.
She really didn’t show much yet. Just the tiniest curve where her waist had been. She kept smoothing her hand over it. “I passed the dreaded first three months with no issues,” she said. She beamed at him, her eyes alive. “I’m not sick. I feel great. I’m going to tell my dad it’s okay to tell his friends now.”
“Don’t be too surprised if you find he already has.”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”
He watched her with pride. Thin as a reed with that little bump that he put there, her smile wistful and almost angelic. She wanted the baby as much as he did; she thrilled with each day it grew in her. This baby had healed something in her. And it filled him with a new hope. She was more beautiful now than she’d ever been.
“Mrs. Jones, you have to either get dressed or come over here and do me.”
She laughed. “I already did you. Magnificently, I might add.”
“I said thank you.”
She reached for her underwear, then her jeans, then her sweatshirt. The show was over. Now he’d have to wait all day to have her alone again.
“It’s time for you to get to work—I need a house. Tom will be here anytime. I’m going over to Sully’s store,” Maggie said. There was much cleanup and restoration to do at her dad’s general store and campground at Sullivan’s Crossing. It was the first of March, and it wouldn’t be long before the campers and hikers started coming in force.
Cal and Maggie were living in the barn they were renovating into a big house with the guidance of Tom Canaday, a local with some amazing carpentry and other building skills. Tom had good subcontractors to help, speeding up the process. Maggie and Cal had married last October and, while the roof and exterior were being reinforced and sealed, dormers added to what were once haylofts, the wiring refreshed, the interior gutted and windows installed where there had been none, they’d been living at Sully’s, in his basement. Tom, Cal and a few extra hands had finally finished off a bedroom and functional bathroom along with a semifunctional kitchen. That bedroom on the ground floor would eventually be Cal’s office when the house was finished. The proper master bedroom would be upstairs. They had a good seal on their temporary bedroom door so they could sleep there and not be overcome by sawdust or the dirt of construction. They’d been in residence two weeks, thanks to warmer weather and a good space heater.
Maggie spent most of her free time at the store helping her dad. Then there were those three or four days a week she was in Denver where she practiced neurosurgery. On her practice days she stayed at the Denver house she’d owned for several years. During her days away, Cal and Tom did the things that were noisiest, smelliest and messiest—the pounding and sawing, cutting granite and quartz, applying the noxious sealer, installing the floors, sanding and staining. Every time Maggie came home it was like Christmas—she’d find new stairs to the second floor, a bathtub, a new kitchen sink, ceramic tile on the kitchen floor, half a fireplace. But the most precious addition of all was the Shop-Vac. That little beauty kept dirt, sawdust, spillage and debris manageable. It was their goal to have the house finished before the baby came, due in October.
Tom Canaday was at the house, his truck backed up to the door, before Cal had finished making Maggie breakfast—very likely by design. Cal got the eggs back out and started making more breakfast.
Tom brought his twenty-year-old son, Jackson; something he did whenever Jackson had a day free of classes. In the cavernous great room they sat at a long picnic table. Tom had thrown it together and it became the table they ate at, spread plans on, used as a carpenter’s bench, a desk when they held meetings. They met with subcontractors there, spread material samples or design renderings on it, looked through catalogs. It was truly multipurpose.
Once Maggie had gone to Sullivan’s Crossing, the men were still seated at the picnic table, finishing a second cup of coffee when there was a knock at the door.
“She forget something?” Tom asked.
“Maggie wouldn’t knock,” Cal said, going to the front door.
Standing just outside on the step, was a pretty girl with light brown hair streaked with honey. She had peachy skin and a pretty mouth stretched into a smile. She wore tight jeans with fashionably torn knees, but Cal guessed hers weren’t purchased that way. Her hoody was tied around her neck. The sight of her made his eyes glitter with happiness.
“Well, you finally got around to me,” he said. He lifted her off the ground with his hug. “How are you?”
“Good. Brand-new. I love this place.”
“You might get a little tired of it this month—March is pretty sloppy.”
“Yeah, that happens,” she said.
He looked beyond her to the little orange VW parked on the road. Not new, that’s for sure. He thought he saw a piece of twine holding the front bumper in place. Then he looked back at his sister. “The pumpkin,” she said with a smile.
“You must’ve looked hard for that thing,” he said.
“She came at a good price.”
“Hard to believe,” he said facetiously. He always forgot how beautiful she was. She was thirty now but still looked like a girl. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face to look into her clear brown eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
“Never better,” she said. “Really.”
“Are you going to stay here until you find something?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Found something already. It’s temporary, but clean, safe, comfortable and convenient. The hostel in town. It’ll keep me very well while I look around some more.”
Sierra looked past him. Wires were hanging from the ceiling and sticking out of walls, building debris
was scattered everywhere, stacks of wallboard, tarps, doors leaning against walls, piles of supplies from plumbing fixtures to hinges. “Love what you’ve done to the place, California.”
Someone cleared his throat and Cal turned to see Tom and Jackson staring at Sierra with open mouths and wide-eyed wonder. “Oh, sorry, guys. Tom, Jackson, this is my sister Sierra. Sierra that’s Tom and his son, Jackson. We’re building together. Remodeling the barn. Like I told you the last time we talked—it’s going to be our house by the time the baby comes.”
“Amazing,” she said, looking around the massive interior. “Put up some walls, California. You don’t want to be living in an arena.”
“Right,” he said, smiling. “Listen guys, Sierra and I have some catching up to do. I want to take her over to Sully’s to see Maggie. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours but I’ll be back. You okay without me?”
Jackson grinned. “Sometimes we’re better without you.”
“Way to pump my ego,” Cal said. “See you in a while.” He pulled the door closed and steered Sierra toward her car. “Can I drive?”
“The pumpkin? I guess... But she’s very sensitive. You’ll have to be gentle. Don’t grind the gears or pump the brakes.” She pulled a key out of the pocket of her tight jeans. “But why?”
He grabbed it. “Indulge me. I want to see how it handles on these mountain roads.”
She slid into the passenger seat. “Okay, but no matter how much you love her, you can’t have her.”
The first thing he did was grind the gears. “Sorry,” he said. She groaned.
He was smoother then, driving around the foothills. There were a lot of sharp turns, uphill and downhill grades, narrow roads that briefly widened and some amazing mountain vistas. At a widened lookout, Cal pulled the pumpkin right up to the edge and stopped.
“Not bad, Sierra,” he said. “Kind of creaky, isn’t she?”
“She likes me better,” Sierra said. “I have a sweet touch and you’re a clod.”
“It suits you, this little orange ball. How was your drive down?”