Dianne's Destiny Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dianne’s Destiny

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “That’s your horse, Emperor. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

  “He’s beautiful.” The horse was tall, copper colored with a flaxen mane and tail. Dianne started toward him, but halted mid-stride. Something about the cowboy whispering in Emperor’s ear made her heart stumble, then lurch as though it had been shot out of a circus cannon. The way those jeans fit him seemed familiar. And, enticing. Good Lord, what am I thinking? This is crazy. She tried not to stare but couldn’t look away.

  Beth’s voice brought her back to reality. “Wait here. I’ll introduce you to the ranch manager. He volunteers his time and horses.”

  Dianne ran her hands down the front of her button-up oxford shirt. She wore jeans and boots, but the clothes felt constricting. She struggled to draw air into her lungs and fought the urge to return to her car to get the navy blue blazer hanging over the passenger seat. She had only worn professional or evening attire since earning a master’s degree. Her best friend, Jocelyn, called them power clothes. But her confidence vanished beneath the fists of a mugger.

  The cowboy walked toward her. His fawn brown hat was pulled low, sun-streaked hair brushed the collar of his chambray shirt. He wore scuffed, worn boots and chaps with the 3G brand tooled into the bottom.

  When he reached her, he stuck out a hand. She took it and forced herself to look up into his face. Her world spun, and she sucked in a breath. Her entire body trembled, and she quickly jerked her hand away. This couldn’t be happening. Kip? My God…it was him.

  Dianne’s Destiny

  by

  Winona Bennett Cross

  Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Dianne’s Destiny

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Winona Bennett Cross

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tamra Westberry

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Yellow Rose Edition, 2015

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-658-3

  Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  I dedicate DIANNE’S DESTINY to

  Ally Robertson, Editor, who often served as

  coach, cheerleader, and counselor,

  Pamela S. Thibodeaux,

  The Bayou Writer’s Group of Lake Charles, LA,

  Anna Kittrell,

  Callie Hutton,

  and the Oklahoma Romance Writers of America

  in Oklahoma City, OK,

  and especially my husband,

  Frank Cross,

  for nudging me along

  and believing in me when I didn’t.

  Chapter 1

  Dianne Jacobson’s stomach churned with apprehension. She pulled her red SUV into the parking lot of Horses of Hope Ranch, pressed a flattened palm against her chest, and slowed her breathing. Sweat ran in rivulets from her forehead and down the back of her neck. She wiped it away with a used napkin from the floorboard.

  Nowadays, new situations and meeting people never failed to initiate an anxiety attack. A few short months ago she was a confident professional woman. Now she was a skittish wreck.

  Closing her eyes, she drew in long slow breaths, counting to ten between each exhalation, using the deep breathing techniques Dr. Murphy taught her.

  Taking advantage of the temporary calm, she climbed from the car and made her way into the office. The waiting room and reception desk were empty. An array of photos featuring smiling men and women alongside beribboned horses hung on the wall. Displayed on a shelf were large and small trophies that reminded her of soldiers standing at attention. The center’s mission statement, framed by gray barn wood, hung above the desk.

  Horses of Hope Ranch is dedicated to bringing peace and normalcy to adults suffering with panic, anxiety and depressive conditions. Our horses are trained to remain calm. They are gentle. We believe the soul of a horse is therapeutic. We are pleased to have you with us and will accommodate your needs in the best way possible.

  Dianne frowned. The benefits of equestrian therapy seemed unrealistic, but she had agreed to follow doctor’s orders. She chose a seat and settled into it, picked up a magazine, and flipped through the pages without registering a word.

  A young woman bounced into the office and flashed a white smile set off by hot pink lips. Her blue eyes sparkled. A thick, shoulder length blonde ponytail swung from side to side, filling the room with the scent of vanilla and brown sugar. “Hi! I’m Beth Kelso. You must be Ms. Jacobson. I was checking on your horse.” Beth leaned forward and offered her hand to Dianne.

  “Yes, but please call me Dianne.” She shook Beth’s hand, avoiding eye contact.

  She took the purple clipboard and pen Beth handed her, silently worrying that the receptionist’s bosom might pop the snaps on her white western shirt. Neon pink boots with turquoise insets offset Beth’s flippy, short denim skirt. Pink boots. I really am back in Texas.

  After a multitude of visits to doctors, filling out paperwork had become a chore. The same questions, same routine. The words blurred. Dianne squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She wanted to run, to escape, but felt like a tiger trapped in a cage.

  She blew out a breath and tried to focus on the paperwork. The questions always brought memories of the mugging slamming to the forefront of her mind. With computer records readily available it puzzled her why medical organizations couldn’t coordinate their information. She tossed the clipboard on the chair next to her and wrapped her arms around herself in a hug as her chest tightened again. Fear stole her ability to focus, and she blinked back tears.

  Beth sat down beside her and put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Dianne drew in a shaky breath. “Just give me a minute.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Beth handed her a tissue. “Let’s forget about this busy work and get to the barn. You’ll feel better when we get out there.”

  Touched by Beth’s quiet compassion, she sniffed back a new bout of tears, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose before following the perky receptionist to the barn.

  The smell of hay and horses reminded her of a happier time. She took a deep breath, letting the dusty, sweet scents wash the tension away. She rubbed a palm over the spot where a
flicker of hope ignited in her heart. Except for carriage rides in Central Park, it had been years since she had been near a horse.

  Beth pointed to where a horse and man stood outside a stall. “That’s your horse, Emperor. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

  “He’s beautiful.” The horse was tall, copper colored with a flaxen mane and tail. Dianne started toward him, but halted mid-stride. Something about the cowboy whispering in Emperor’s ear made her heart stumble, then lurch as though it had been shot out of a circus cannon. The way those jeans fit him seemed familiar. And, enticing. Good Lord, what am I thinking? This is crazy. She tried not to stare but couldn’t look away.

  Beth’s voice brought her back to reality. “Wait here. I’ll introduce you to the ranch manager. He volunteers his time and horses.”

  Dianne ran her hands down the front of her button-up oxford shirt. She wore jeans and boots, but the clothes felt constricting. She struggled to draw air into her lungs and fought the urge to return to her car to get the navy blue blazer hanging over the passenger seat. She had only worn professional or evening attire since earning a master’s degree. Her best friend, Jocelyn, called them power clothes. But her confidence had vanished beneath the brutal fists of a mugger.

  The cowboy walked toward her. His fawn brown hat was pulled low, sun-streaked hair brushed the collar of his chambray shirt. He wore scuffed, worn boots and chaps with the 3G brand tooled into the bottom.

  When he reached her, he stuck out a hand. She took it and forced herself to look up into his face. Her world spun, and she sucked in a breath. Her entire body trembled, and she quickly jerked her hand away. This couldn’t be happening. Kip? My God…it was him.

  “You all right?” Kip reached to steady her. She hadn’t heard that voice since she left without explanation, nor had she forgotten it. She glanced up to see recognition dawn in his eyes. “Dianne? Is it really you?”

  She nodded and waved away his assistance. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m fine.” Hoping the composure she faked was believable, she stood straight and pushed the hair from her face. She tried to hold eye contact, but couldn’t. “Long time no see, right?”

  Kip’s lips tightened. “Yeah, I’ll say. I didn’t recognize your name. I guess Jacobsen is your married name.”

  “So, it appears you two know each other,” Beth cut in.

  “We did. A long time ago.” Kip turned his back to Dianne. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Emperor.”

  She followed his long strides, still in shock that Kip would be the man she’d be working with. She’d managed to avoid seeing him since she moved to Wichita Falls from New York a few months ago, but now it seemed, her luck had run out. She grimaced. As if her apprehension hadn’t been high enough already.

  She and Beth caught up to Kip, who waited next to Emperor. Kip reached into his pocket and drew out three sugar cubes. He gave them to Dianne, holding his hand out flat. “Hold your hand like this so he can’t bite you.”

  “I remember.” She took the sugar. The brush of her fingers on Kip’s palm felt like electrical shocks. She clasped her hands together before wiping them on the front of her jeans. She moved toward the horse. Her breathing slowed. Emperor’s ears pointed toward her, he nickered, and reached for the treat. His musty but clean scent, soft muzzle, and unconditional acceptance calmed her. No therapy, conversation, medication, or relaxation technique could calm her like being near this horse. She held his face in her hands, looked him in the eye, and saw trust.

  Running one hand alongside his neck she moved to his side and buried her face in the coarse hair of his mane. The flood of cleansing tears surprised her. She wept as regret erupted from her soul. She had recognized long ago that running from home and love hadn’t been the answer. She achieved success by anyone’s definition, but it wasn’t enough. Happiness had eluded her. Now, she was home again, broken in almost every way, and crying into the neck of a horse.

  “Let’s finish your paperwork,” Beth said, gently taking Dianne’s elbow and leading her out of the barn.

  Dianne glanced back at Kip. He looked at her with narrowed eyes and wrinkled forehead before turning to groom another horse. Sadness overwhelmed her. She touched her chest with the tips of her fingers, wanting to feel her heart beating. Her emotions seesawed between anger and despair. Regret haunted her. She swallowed the tears gathering in her throat and moved toward the office with Beth.

  ****

  Kip gritted his teeth to clamp back the emotion threatening to drown him. The woman he met today wasn’t the dreamer he had fallen for. She was as beautiful as ever, perhaps more so with the wisdom of maturity. Realization hit him like the kick of a wild stallion. He’d read the report on the woman coming to the ranch—although at the time he hadn’t known it was Dianne. She’d been mugged and beaten. He clenched his fists, wanting to pound them into whoever had hurt Dianne. Despite her betrayal years ago, the thought of someone attacking her, hurting her, sent rage spiraling through him.

  He growled and kicked a bale of hay. Turning his attention to the horse he brushed its flank so hard the animal swung around and nipped at him. “Sorry, boy.”

  Flashbacks of happier times flooded his memory. Kip closed his eyes. The night he screwed up the courage to finally kiss her surfaced in his memory. He remembered his uncertainty—he hadn’t known which direction to tilt his head, but had finally decided to bend to the right. She bent the same way, and they collided. It took a couple of tries, but they finally got it right. He could still feel the softness of Dianne’s lips, taste her cherry lipstick. His heart had beat so fast he feared it would burst. He shook his head to banish the thoughts and gulped hard to dislodge the knot growing in his throat.

  He looked at the back of his left hand and rubbed the scar running from his thumb to the knuckle of his ring finger. They had been in an ATV accident. Dianne suffered a broken leg and was left with a long, jagged cut on her right thigh. Stupid kids, typical teenagers thinking they were immortal and had it all. The accident brought them closer together. It opened their eyes to the fragility of life.

  He pushed the sweet memories aside as the vision of Dianne leaving him all those years ago filled his mind. He felt her cold palms on his cheeks, heard the anguish in her apologies, tasted the bitter disappointment as she turned and left. He remembered the red glow of tail lights mocking him. He never knew why she left without warning only days following graduation.

  “I’ll be damned. Why the hell is she back here now?” Kip muttered. He turned, kicked a feed bucket, and fled the barn. Anger and frustration slammed into him with brute force.

  “Beth!” Kip stormed into the office. “Give me Ms. Jacobson’s folder. I need to know when she’s coming again.”

  “Good grief, Kip. What bee got in your bonnet?” Beth slapped the folder into his hand. “Since when do you care about the schedule?”

  “Not really interested in the schedule. I need to know when to have Emperor ready. The farrier is coming next week,” Kip snarled. He tossed the folder on the desk, leaving a trail of papers on the floor.

  He noticed the flash and narrowed glare of Beth’s gaze before he turned and stomped out of the office. The space between his shoulder blades burned with the intensity of her stare.

  Half an hour later he was back at his ranch. He stopped at the barn and snapped at his foreman to unload the horses. He covered the hundred yards from the barn to his back porch in record time.

  Standing in the kitchen he surveyed the rough-hewn walls, granite counter tops, and red color scheme. He knew Dianne would love it, because it was the exact design they had scribbled in notebooks when they dreamt of the future. She was back, but why? Was it just to escape the effects of the mugging she suffered in New York? Questions he had suppressed sought answers once again. Why hadn’t she at least contacted him over the years?

  Why hadn’t he found a lasting relationship since Dianne had left? Of all the women he had dated how come nothing stuck? Even Beth? He glanced around the room and in an instan
t knew the answer—because no woman he met could compare to Dianne. No one captivated him the way she had from the moment he laid eyes on her in high school.

  He walked to the sink, splashed cold water on his face, and vowed to stay away from the equestrian center on the days Dianne was scheduled.

  Chapter 2

  Dianne drove from the ranch and crossed the Red River, heading to Waurika, Oklahoma, just past the Texas border. Driving over the bridge reminded her of the days she and Kip would sneak off with their friends to ride four wheelers on the soft, shifting sand in the river bottom.

  Light flashing from the windows of a house on the bluff of the 3G Ranch distracted her and forced her to veer to the shoulder. She stopped for a moment and admired the large log home before she pulled back onto the highway. Her stomach growled, and she knew just where to go.

  The tires of her red luxury SUV crunched on the gravel when she pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. The sign at the roadside café was the same as it had been when she was a carefree teenager.

  Inside, little had changed. She stood in the entry giving her eyes time to adjust to the dim light. Flashes of memories past made her smile despite the sadness. She, Kip, and their friends stopped at the café almost every weekend after spending hours on the river bottom. They were usually chastised for leaving sand everywhere.

  An older waitress zoomed past her, balancing a tray steaming with hot baskets of food. She nodded at Dianne. “Sit anywhere, hon. Menus are on the table.”

  Choosing a booth she last sat in fifteen years ago, she tossed her lambskin handbag across the torn red vinyl to the far side. The menu was the same—half or full orders of catfish served with fries, hush puppies, onions and pickles.

  “What can I get you, hon?” The waitress placed a basket of hot hushpuppies on the table.

  Dianne smiled and pointed at her selection. “I’ll have a half order of fish, fried crisp, and sweet tea.”

  “Enjoy your hush puppies, be right back.”

  The woman returned in moments and plopped a glass of tea on the table. “Your order will be up soon.” She narrowed her eyes. “You look familiar. Are you from around here?”