Читать книгу Claiming The Single Mom's Heart - Glynna Kaye - Страница 13

Chapter Five

“I think I may have confirmed it, Tori.” Sunshine glanced at her friend Saturday morning. “Not only is ‘the ridge of the hunter’ likely the same as Hunter Ridge, but I may now have proof that my ancestors knew the Hunter family just as in the family legend.”

With satisfaction, she tapped the screen of her laptop computer, where she’d uploaded photos from her phone. They were the first images she’d ever seen of her legendary ancestors if, indeed, these two were her great-great-grandparents. When Grady pointed them out, named names she’d never before heard, it was all she could do not to topple over in amazement as the pieces fit together.

“A pioneer family named Hunter, can you believe it? Who not only lived in the area that one day would neighbor Hunter Ridge, but who were friends of another couple—an Anglo husband with an Apache wife. Identical to the family story related by my grandma.”

Had Grady noticed her excitement?

“You said her name was Flora?” Tori inspected one of the photos. “That doesn’t sound like an Indian name, but she does look like the full-blooded White Mountain Apache of family folklore, doesn’t she? I can see where your jet-black hair, dark eyes and beautiful warm complexion could have been inherited from her. Do you see any other family resemblance to either of them?”

“Flora’s build and facial structure is similar to my grandmother’s—Flora’s granddaughter—if indeed this is my ancestor. And Walter?” Sunshine frowned. “I’m not sure.”

“This is wild.” Tori stepped back, but her attention remained fixed on the screen. “I have to admit, I didn’t think there was any substance to those tall tales you told me.”

“Well, we don’t know for sure.” But something deep inside Sunshine bubbled up, telling her she was looking into the faces of those who’d come before her. “I never knew their names. But it’s not as if I’ve had some pristine lineage traced back to the Mayflower, you know. The family on Mom’s side has been fragmented. There was never an interest in documenting our ancestry. Grandma’s mother died when Grandma was a teen. That’s who she’d have gotten her information from, and Grandma’s grandma died before that. So even though my great-grandma knew her parents’ names, that wouldn’t necessarily have been passed down to her own daughter.”

“Gets complicated, doesn’t it? I didn’t even know my own great-grandparents’ names until I did research.”

“It’s not as if my grandmother tried to verify any of this, either. I mean, the substance of the story she passed down was focused solely on the unfortunate fact that our ancestors were cheated out of property by someone they considered a friend.”

Tori crossed the room to lower herself onto the sofa. “Even if these two are related to you, that doesn’t mean there’s any truth to the core of that story. You know, that Hunters grabbed their land or anything.”

“No, but...” Stories had to start somewhere, didn’t they?

“So what’s next?”

Sunshine moved to a front window overlooking the road through town, then pushed aside a sheer curtain to watch the activity below. “Well, I guess I need to go online and see if those names can be verified on one of those genealogy websites.”

“You know it isn’t as easy as those TV shows depict, don’t you? I mean, they have professional genealogists who do months of background research. Then when the celebrity shows up with cameras rolling, they tap a few keys and pull up the proof as if they’d just discovered it.”

“I know, but it’s somewhere to start. I’ll begin with what I know about Mom and Grandma and work my way back.”

“People in the olden days didn’t always have birth certificates. And your Apache ancestor likely didn’t.”

“True.” Sunshine rested her forehead on the cool pane of glass, trying to better see what was going on below. Was that Grady Hunter hauling a box out of a navy blue SUV in front of the building next door?

“What are you looking at?”

“Oh, nothing.” Sunshine moved away from the window and sat down. “So has my family mystery intrigued you enough that you’re willing to help me? I know you have reservations about how the story involves the Hunters.”

“That’s the part that I’m most concerned about. But I’ve researched my own family and found it rewarding. So I’d be happy to do that for you while you’re seeing to the gallery, Co-op business and getting out to meet your future constituency.”

“You’re the best friend in the world, Tori.”

But when would Tori’s fiancé recognize the treasure he had in her? He hadn’t asked her to return the engagement ring, so that had to mean there was hope, didn’t it?

“It’s the least I can do, with you letting me stay here. I couldn’t stay in Jerome and risk bumping into Heath every time I turned around. Or having people ask me about him, probing to find out what’s going on with us when I don’t know myself.”

“Have you—” Sunshine paused, knowing this was sensitive territory “—considered breaking the engagement yourself? Provoking him into working through whatever it is that’s gotten into him?”

“I know it sounds stupid.” Tori looked down at the ring on her hand. “But I’m not ready to close the door yet. I love him.”

Ah, yes, love.

Sunshine had been there herself and couldn’t point fingers at her friend now. “Whatever happens—wedding or no wedding—know that I’m here for you.”

When Tori returned to her room, Sunshine again moved restlessly to the window. Yes, that was Grady down there, now talking with the man she knew to be his contractor.

He’d promised to show her those historic cabins, but they hadn’t firmed that up. The likelihood that she’d make new discoveries under those roofs to confirm her grandmother’s story was slim, but it would be worth a try.

She glanced down at her watch. She had thirty minutes until she had to unlock the gallery doors for another business day.

“Tessa?” she called, intending to see if she’d like to go on a walk, which would coincidentally lead past the renovation of the store next door.

But then she stopped herself.

That thinking—or rather not thinking—was exactly how she’d gotten tangled up with Tessa’s father. And this guy was a descendent of Duke Hunter.

* * *

Windshield wipers beating a steady rhythm, Grady applied the brakes as he rounded another wet curve on the way back from visiting his mother at the hospital Sunday evening. She’d had an adverse reaction to her medications a few days ago, but seemed to have stabilized and might soon come home. Then would begin the long haul of postsurgery physical therapy and chemotherapy treatments.

Man, he hated to see her go through that. Dad, too.

Please, God, heal Mom. We need her.

Now, halfway between Canyon Springs and Hunter Ridge, twilight had given over to darkness, and clouds from a late-season monsoon rain hung low. The days were rapidly growing shorter and summer was pretty much over as the nighttime temperatures dropped into the midforties. Elections would soon be upon them. Would Mom stick it out or withdraw from the race?

He lowered the volume of the country tune belting out of the stereo speakers. It was a mournful love song that, for some irritating reason, made him think of Sunshine.

He’d been relieved that after their conversation a few days ago, she’d made no further attempts to visit the Hideaway or to try to see his mother. Nor had she pressed him to show her the old family cabins that appeared to have captured her imagination when he’d mentioned them. So his family’s concerns that she had ulterior motives were unfounded.