The truth about one woman’s mysterious disappearance changes another woman’s life forever, and brings an entire town to its knees

1

  Morgan was a day early. She paused in the doorway of the first establishment she’d seen in miles where she might find a soft drink. The weathered sign read, “Buchanan’s General Store.” The interior was dim, and, if possible, even more drab than the exterior. She doubted the plank floor had ever seen a coat of paint or varnish. A group of old-timers, focused on whittling, spitting, and prognosticating occupied a cluster of chairs that formed a common area near an old coal burning stove located near the front. Stock shelves stood beyond that.

   One old-timer, worked up about local election candidates, cut off his tirade mid-sentence when he spotted Morgan. With his mouth still open, he fell back into his chair, unable to take his eyes from her. He started the chain reaction. The whittling slowed, then stopped altogether, as the men, one by one, looked in the direction of the entrance…and froze.

     Her hand still on the door, she swallowed. She was parched, but the old-timer’s reactions, to her arrival, was odd to say the least. She wasn’t accustomed to mountain people. Maybe she should forget the soft drink and leave. Her intended exit, however, was arrested by a voice that drew her attention from the old-timer statues.

   “What can I do for you, honey?”

   The clerk, standing behind it had a kindly looking face and was quite a bit older than Morgan.

   As Morgan’s face came into full view, the smile on the clerk’s face froze then vanished. The tension in the store fairly crackled, and Morgan wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run. Instead, she stepped inside. The interior silence amplified the screeching of the door hinges as she closed it behind her. Belying the weirdness of the situation, the bells attached to it tinkled their welcoming—but, by now, totally unnecessary—announcement of her arrival.

   Morgan felt as if she had stepped one hundred years back in time.

   The old-timer statues stirred.

   Showing signs of life, one of them, with a jaw full of tobacco juice, forgot to spit and swallowed instead. Another remembered to spit, but missed the spittoon.

   Glancing around and not seeing what she came for, she asked, “Do you have fountain drinks?”

   The clerk, fully recovered now, offered a warm smile that invited Morgan to smile in return. “Nope,” came the disappointing answer, “but we got cans—good cold ones too, what would you like, honey?”

    “Coke please.” She waited anxiously as the clerk, in no hurry at all and staring unabashedly, leaned her broom against the counter and calmly deposited a dust-pan full of wood shavings into the waste basket. She then opened the cooler and retrieved a can. Setting the drink on the counter, she held out her hand palm up, “That’ll be ninety nine cents, honey.” Morgan laid a dollar bill on the counter, picked up her coke, and hurried out the door.

   The old-timers, now fully revived, but silent, resumed their whittling—the local elections were momentarily forgotten.

     Gravel flew as Morgan peeled out of the parking lot onto the highway. And I thought Aunt Mae was kidding when she warned me about culture shock. Her sports car hugged the curves as she imagined Mae reading the hastily scrawled note from her niece.

Aunt Mae,

In desperate need of tall dark roast with cream and two splendas—accompanied by good conversation. See you Tuesday.

Love M

   I hope she got the note I was coming….

     After the initial revelation that her quiet world was about to be crashed by her energetic and sometimes disruptive niece, Morgan imagined that Mae would take the news like she took most everything else in life—in stride.

   She’d recover from Morgan arriving a day early as well.

   Morgan’s Aunt was a retired college instructor who was accustomed to young people, although, at 28, Morgan wasn’t certain that she actually qualified as young anymore. Right now, she needed the peace and order of Mae Alexander’s world. And she was looking forward to a cup of that exquisite coffee that only her aunt could brew. Mae’s coffee blend had been a closely guarded secret ever since Morgan could remember. A visit with Aunt Mae was just what the doctor ordered.

   She shuddered, only thirty days, or else…. Not near enough time.

     Jake watched as four pairs of eyes stared in disbelief as Charlie Browning stood his ground. 

     Freddie Wilson just sat with his mouth gaping open. Across from Freddie sat Bill Margrave. The two had been engaged in a checker game for about two years. Bill was new to the area having moved to Green Briar only thirteen years before. Everyone said he was a decent sort, though not much of a farmer.

     Charlie’s eyes slid towards the locked ammunition display case where his best friend, Ralph, was leaning. Forty years earlier, Ralph had been Best Man at Charlie’s wedding. Concern played across Ralph’s usually stoic features.

     Frustrated at the response he was getting, Charlie’s fist slammed the counter of Andrew’s Sporting Goods and Hardware while aiming the next volley at Joseph Andrews, the owner.

     “I ain’t never lied to you Joseph!” Gripping the edge of the counter he drew a slow breath, then looking at the lot of them said, “I ain’t never lied to none of you, or your daddies, or your granddaddies—and I’ll say it again—I seen her!”

     “Charlie,” Joseph reasoned, “I know you, and I know you’re an honest man, but I’m inclined to believe your years, and maybe bad eyes, are playing tricks on you is all.” 

     “Y-yeah,” Freddie finally found his tongue, “Y-you must be hallu--c-cinatin, j-just like you did w-when you saw B-Bill Jessup by that f-fencepost ten years after he p-passed on.”

     “Aw c’mon on Freddie, you know Charlie don’t like to be reminded of that. It wasn’t his fault Doc gave em the wrong stuff.” Ralph took his weight off display case, “Anyway, no one knows for sure if she’s passed or not. Probly just run off, like they said. Maybe she decided to come back. What do you think Charlie?”    

     Charlie rubbed his eyes.

     You all right Charlie? Should I call Charlene?”

     “No.” Charlie snaked work-worn fingers through what was left of his hair and headed for the door. “I’m Ok.”

   He got the last word as he exited the building. “But I know what I saw.”

     The Andrew’s crowd looked at each other and shrugged. Only Jake noticed Winfred Campbell slithering out behind Charlie.

   Jake coaxed his old truck the last few yards up Mae’s steep and outrageously rutted driveway pulling onto the wooded plateau her log home was built on. She had suggested more than once that he leave it at the bottom and make the quarter mile climb to the top on foot.

   Mae drove a jeep herself, and never parked at the bottom. “The exercise will do you good,” she’d hinted broadly.

     Jake was good natured, not over weight, and ready for her. “Why don’t you have a grader come out and get rid of those ruts? You might get more company that way.”

     “Humph. That’s why I don’t.” Mae was not anti-social but found the verbal sparring with her young friend stimulating.

     Most every afternoon, Jake and his truck struggled up the drive. And most every afternoon he boasted that both he and his old truck got a good workout doing it. They would enjoy a cup or two of coffee and one of Mae’s health-food snacks. He was amused by Mae’s preoccupation with health, but he wasn’t about to buy into it—at least not to the degree that Mae did. He liked red meat too much.

     He was surprised to see a sports car parked under the giant oaks that shaded the property. How in the world did that low slung thing make it up this drive? Only after that, did he think to wonder who the car might belong to. But he knew his curiosity was about to be satisfied as Mae was already out on the porch, waiting for him.

   There had been few surprises for him after moving back to Green Briar to help his ailing father with the family farm, but the unlikely friendship that had sprung up between him and the former English instructor, 30 years his senior, had been one of them. For the past few years, on an almost daily basis, they had enjoyed a peaceful hour or two at her kitchen table, or, weather permitting, on her breezy porch. The rustic setting, lively conversation, and her one concession to her diet standards, her incredible coffee, had become daily highlights for both of them.

    With that sports car parked in the yard and Mae already out on the porch, Jake suspected today might prove more interesting than usual.

   “Hey big boy,” Morgan’s voice dripped honey, “it’s good to see you again.” She reached into the pouch hanging from her waist. “Look what I brought you.”

   Her wheedling tone didn’t fool the horse one bit. She produced an apple chunk for his inspection. The giant sniffed at it then quickly snatched it up.

     So far so good, but not getting her hopes up too soon, Morgan continued with her plan to win the animal’s cooperation. “So, Sampson,” she shrugged, shifting the weight of the bridle hanging from her right shoulder, she patted the horse’s neck with one hand and reached into the pouch for more apple with the other, “did you miss me?”

   Velvet lips whisked the fruit from her palm.

   Making small talk with the horse, she continued. “Aunt Mae says you’ve become an escape artist. She says you haven’t done that since you were a young horse. How come you’re jumping the fence and going where you’re not supposed to? What if you get shot? You know these mountain people all carry guns.” She didn’t know that for a fact, but she suspected as much. The horse chewed contentedly. “She also says your temper hasn’t improved much since our last visit. Well, I can relate, sort of…” She pushed thoughts of her current predicament from her mind. “Sometimes.”

    “Hey,” she exclaimed brightly, as if a new thought had just struck her, “I have an idea.” What’s the definition of insanity? Aunt Mae’s voice rose to chide her. “How about you and me go for a little ride?” Trying the same thing over and over expecting different results? She had only been trying to ride Sampson since she was twelve—not letting his size or fear of being thrown deter her. When Morgan set her mind to something, failure was not an option, and the word cowardice was not in her vocabulary. A familiar sensation of stubborn resolve budded in her gut just before it blossomed into her heart and mind, and She redoubled her efforts. That horse was not going to get the best of her. She slowly slid the bridle from her shoulder. Phase one, she told herself, is going beautifully.

     She held out more apple.

   Jasmine trailed up the porch, mingling its scent with fresh brewed coffee as Jake wolfed down Mae's rather unique but delicious apple pie. She was proud of her culinary creation. “I’m experimenting with raw food recipes. This one’s made with apples, figs, dates, and cinnamon. How do you like it?”  

   It was surprisingly good, and Jake had to admit he was impressed. She had also filled him in on the news of her niece who was here for an unexpected, month-long, visit. She had arrived yesterday, barely an hour before the mail service had delivered the note announcing her visit.

   He could tell Mae was a bit on edge, which struck him as unusual since he also knew that she had raised her niece. Granted, he didn’t know all of the details of their lives, but he did know that for all practical purposes, Morgan was immediate family.  

   Mae sensed his questions and offered an explanation. “She’s rather high-strung, and this is her first visit to Green Briar since we moved away when she was nine.”

   The explanation didn’t clear things up for him in the least. To his way of thinking, Green Briar was the perfect place for a high-strung person to spend a month-long vacation. It was scenically stunning, and with Mae’s talent as a gardener, the landscape around her home was especially aesthetic and tranquil. In just a few years, she had transformed a property overgrown from years of neglect into a botanical retreat.

   An old mountain trail connected her property with that of her two closest neighbors, the old Garvey place and that of Willie Johnson. The Garvey place had been willed to the town and was being transformed into the, soon to be open to the public, Garvey House Botanical Preserve and Butterfly Station. Beyond that, the same trail ran in an unbroken line to Willie Johnson’s property.

   All told, the three properties totaled close to 700 acres, with the Garvey place being the largest. Mae had commented more than once about how she loved the remoteness of the land she had inherited from her parents. Add to that, the meandering pace of rural Green Briar, and Jake could not imagine a better contrast to the mad rush of city life that he assumed her edgy niece needed a break from. It was the perfect get-away. Mae was probably over-reacting.

   “It’s a long story.”

   Jake could see that Mae was not interested in clarifying the statement, so, in an effort to lighten her mood, he grinned and changed the subject, “How about I cook dinner for you tonight? You relax. I’ll grill us a juicy steak.”

     Mae snorted while Jake grinned and took an exaggerated slurp from his cup.

          “Tell you what,” she countered, “you eat your mad cows, and I’ll eat my vegetables, and we’ll see which one of us li—” 

   A giant horse exploded into the yard cutting off Mae’s remark, while a barely hanging on blond clung to a rapidly slipping saddle. Jake leapt from the porch and grabbed the horse’s bridle just as the saddle lost its grip, depositing the girl neatly into a freshly dug flower bed. Good thing for Mae that she had not yet planted the flowers, but heavy rains the night before had turned her current project into a good-sized mud hole.

   Had Sampson picked that spot on purpose? Jake didn’t doubt it. He had spent the past few years trying to earn his trust, and he knew the horse well. Jake had no doubt that this equine’s intelligence was off the charts.      

   Discerning she wasn’t hurt, he smiled at the city girl who had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. The old horse had inflated his lungs as the saddle was being adjusted so, with relatively little effort, he could ditch his rider later.  

   Protesting the male hand on his bridal, Sampson jerked his head back, snorted, and pawed at the ground. With one hand, Jake held the horse easily, and, not even trying to suppress a smile, extended the other towards the mud-splattered vision sprawled at his feet.

     “You must be Morgan,” he said, “I’m Jacob Chandler—Jake to my friends—welcome to Green Briar.”

2  

   What is it with Aunt Mae and mudholes? Morgan eased herself out of bed, first that unbelievable driveway, and then that pool of quicksand in her front yard. Morgan had a penchant for overstatement. I’ll be lucky if there’s anything left of me or my car by the time this leave, uh…vacation, is over.

     It had been two days since Samson had dumped her at Jake’s feet, and she was sore and cranky. Not a good thing. Her friendship with that horse was definitely on hold…again.

     Morgan limped towards the kitchen. She needed coffee. After coffee she would feel much more sanguine. And then, instead of a shower, she would take a hot bath, a bubble bath. Bubble baths were generally a great way to unwind and end the day, but today Morgan needed to do everything possible to cultivate a more, phlegmatic, diplomatic, attitude, so she would try something different and start the day with a Bubble bath. After that, she would—her musings were interrupted as her eyes landed on the portrait…,

  —in a large ornate frame,

  —hanging prominently over the piano.

   The portrait was old; the frame was new.

   Her shriek reduced to rubble the pending tranquility of her morning.

   “Aunt Mae!”

   “Why can’t you put that thing in your room? Where you’re the only one who has to look at it?” She ended her assault on Mae’s serenity by grumbling to herself, “Nobody cares anything about it but you anyway.”

     Unflustered by the outburst, Mae appeared at the kitchen door, “It’s my house Morgan. I’ll decorate how I please. You know that. Now, what would you like for breakfast dear, bagels and fruit, or eggs and toast?”

   Aunt Mae was not vegan thank God.

   In spite of the offending portrait, Morgan had managed to behave in a civil manner through breakfast. It didn’t take as much effort as she feared it would. It was good to know that whatever she set her mind on she could do—even if it was something as simple as behaving herself through a meal with her Aunt.

   After breakfast, she had drawn the intended bubble bath but found she simply did not have what it took to relax and ease into the day slowly. She quickly ended the experiment, dried off, and got dressed. She had things to do.   

   Riding Sampson was not on the list.

   She needed to find a bookstore or library and get a how-to book on developing a calmer outlook. Being truthful with herself, she knew she wasn’t so much interested in developing a calmer disposition, as she was in appearing unruffled and in control at all times.

   This was business, and she was a strong believer in the corporate adage, shallow as it was, “Appearance is Everything!” She did not view this as hypocritical, simply basic survival. She must master the skill of keeping at least some of her opinions to herself.  She had worked too hard to lose everything now.

   Afternoon came, and Morgan had still not made it to the bookstore. It seemed that one thing after another had conspired to keep her off task—which, of course, did nothing to reduce the stress she was under. Only 26 more days!

   She was almost ready to leave for town, when the sound of a bad muffler drew her attention from the mirror.

   It’s him again!

   He really should do something about that muffler—and that outrageous truck of his.

   She hadn’t noticed Jake’s truck the other day because she had been too busy falling off a horse and climbing out of a mud hole. But yesterday, she wondered how she ever could have missed it.

   It was an older model truck, the kind that sported small, triangular, “wing,” windows in front of the regular windows—the kind that pushed out for extra ventilation—definitely vintage. And, besides a loud muffler, it had a few dents here and there that accentuated a very bad paint job.

   Why in the world would any man want to ride around in a pastel blue truck painted with what looked like primer? She knew, that on this truck, the primer was not simply step one towards a real paint job, because the loud muffler and pastel blue primer were not its main attractions.

   No, this guy had Scripture verses painted on his truck.

     Yesterday, he had parked it so the driver’s side faced the porch, and there on the door was a white airbrushed cloud graced with black lettering that read, “…for a man’s life consists not in the abundance of the things he possesses.”

     I’ll say, she remembered thinking. If you’re gonna ride around in something like that, you’d better have some kind of philosophy.

   The next day, she had sought for a way to disappear while he and Mae had their daily visit—not that he wasn’t attractive—but she had to stay focused on why she was here or she was in danger of losing everything she had worked for. She didn’t have time for men—not even one as appealing as Jacob Chandler.

   The barn was perfect. She was still at odds with the horse, but Sampson never objected to treats and a good grooming. Besides, there was really nowhere else to go. But when she heard the roar of his muffler signaling the end of the visit, she couldn’t say why she put the curry comb down and watched from the barn as he drove off.

   The last thing she saw was a blue tailgate sporting an airbrushed message that read, “For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?”  

     Well, now it was today. And he was back.

    In two easy bounds, Jake cleared the four steps from the yard to the porch. Mae called out to him to come in, so, after entering the house, he followed the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen.

   Strange we’re staying inside today considering the weather outside’s perfect. No matter, the coffee and conversation were just as good at her kitchen table as on her porch. He was halfway through the living room when he noticed the picture.

   “Nice picture,” he paused in front of the piano, “Is that new? I never noticed it before.”

    A voice from behind jolted his attention from the newly decorated wall. “You never noticed it before, because Aunt Mae only just got around to hanging it—just to irritate me.”

     Jake turned towards the voice and saw that Morgan was heading towards the door he had just entered. She looked just as pretty without the mud. “Now, why would a great picture like that irritate you? I’d love it if my relatives hung good portraits of me on their walls.”

     “It isn’t me,” she snapped, “and if you want to talk about that picture, you’ll have to do it with Aunt Mae.” With that, she stormed out. The old-fashion screen door punctuated her exit with a resounding BANG.

   Jake barely had time to see message on the back of her Tee shirt as she hurried away. It was an image of a girl wielding a two by four with lettering which read, “Does not Play Well with Others.”

   The encounter left him a bit shell shocked. For a moment, all he could think was, Maybe so, but she sure looks good in those jeans.

    “The woman in the picture is my sister.”

   Mae had Jake’s full attention as she explained the mystery of the picture. At over six feet, he towered over her petite frame even as they sat across the table from each other.

   “Amazing resemblance between the two isn’t there?”

   Morgan was a mirror image of her mother. He nodded in agreement, “Uncanny.”

   She drizzled honey into her coffee. She wouldn’t touch sugar. “I can understand her confusion, but I have never been able to understand how she can hold on to such animosity for so long.” She picked up a spoon and stirred the hot liquid, “I can even understand the feelings of rejection she must have suffered all these years. What I absolutely cannot understand, is her complete lack of ambivalence on the subject.”

   Jake had belatedly noticed Mae watching as Morgan slammed out of the house leaving him standing in the middle of her living room, bewildered by the outburst. “What’d I do?” he’d asked.  

     Mae sighed. Jake noticed she had done a lot of that since Morgan arrived.    

   “That’s Morgan,” she answered. “You don’t necessarily have to do anything. But she is right about one thing. I did put that picture up for her benefit.”

     Jake was all ears. He was interested in anything that had to do with Morgan Phillips. 

   After driving and blowing off steam for an hour or so, Morgan found herself parked across the street from a bookstore that looked exactly like the kind of place a backwoods town like Green Briar would boast. Flanked by two antique shops, the sign read “Bethel Books.” She was certain that it was not her kind of book store. But she was equally certain that it was the only bookstore in town. Morgan grabbed her purse, got out of her car, locked it, and walked across the street.

   A bell tinkled softly as she entered, and a quick glance around confirmed what she already suspected. The store reeked of religion.

   She turned to leave.

   “Hi there!”

     Morgan looked to see where the perky voice was coming from and saw no one. Then a young woman popped up from behind the counter … or maybe she was an older girl. It was difficult to say. The girl-woman rubbed her hands across the black dress she was wearing, as if smoothing out wrinkles. Her frame was small, and she had a childlike appearance, but Morgan had a feeling she was older than she looked.

   “You barely made it. I was just getting ready to lock up.”

   It’s closing time. Good. The girl peered at her through dark almond shaped eyes—large ones at that. Or was it the thick lens glasses that gave that effect? At any rate, Morgan couldn’t help but be drawn to the impish smile.

   No matter. She was leaving. “I just stopped by to see if I could find something to read, but since you’re closing, I’ll come back another time.”  

   “Yeah, well, this is a book store, plenty of stuff to read in here.” The girl headed for the entrance. “I’ll go ahead and lock up, but feel free to browse as long as you like.”

   “Uh, Thanks.” Morgan began half-heartedly glancing through the books as the girl locked the front door and then disappeared through a bead-draped opening in the back of the store.

   As Morgan allowed her gaze to wander about, it was obvious that this was no ordinary religious bookstore. There were crosses and religious things all around, but alongside these were an assortment of other things that did not quite fit Morgan’s idea of what she might find in a religious book store. There was also a strong odor of incense, and some interesting shaped sun-catchers hanging in the front window.

   “Yeah, we’re the one-stop-get-all book store.” The funny little clerk had returned. “We’re the only one in town, so the owner tries to make sure we have a little something for everyone. Hey, we’ve got all kinds of stuff in here.” She extended her hand towards Morgan, “Hi, I’m Katie Blossom.”

   Morgan took the hand, “Hi Katie Blossom, I’m Morgan.” Morgan noted that Katie’s handshake was firm, and she didn’t avert her eyes, as so many do, during an introduction.

     “Well, Morgan from the big city, if you can’t find what you’re looking for here, it’s probably not in Green Briar”

      “How did you know…?”

      “That you’re not local? That’s easy. I’ve lived here all my life, and aside from the tourists, I know just about everyone.  Green Briar is a very small town.”

   “Guess I’d better look fast since you’re closed. Do you have any books on anger management?” She hastened to explain. “I’m working on a research paper for my psychology class.” That wasn’t a lie exactly. Hoping to find some practical tips on becoming a more upbeat person, she had enrolled in an online course in cognitive-behavioral therapy. Her job had good benefits and was paying for it. She frowned at the thought. They’d better, since it was a requirement for keeping her job.

   “The psychology section is the fourth row from the right. We have a few titles dealing with that subject, but do you really want to waste a perfectly good vacation with heavy reading like that?”

   In spite of herself, Morgan smiled. The girl was refreshingly different. “And you know what else I should be doing?”

   “Yeah, hangin with me!” And with that, Katie whirled about and dashed behind the counter.    

   Morgan had to admit that with the aggravating portrait hanging on the wall and with that ‘Jake’ guy hanging around—appealing as he was—the thought of spending the evening at Aunt Mae’s taxed what was left of her hard earned serenity reserves, if she ever had any to begin with.

   Not that Morgan had anything in particular against Jake. It was just the opposite. She was quite drawn to him, though she had no idea why. Aside from the fact that he was obviously a religious fanatic, and, judging from what he drove, he did not share her ambitious work ethic or commitment to achievement and financial security.

   Her thoughts towards him softened for a moment, but just the few times she had been in his presence, she got the overwhelming feeling that he was absolutely genuine. She pushed the thought away. She had believed the same of her mother.

   Get out of the past, Morgan, you cannot afford to be distracted right now. But she was running low on excuses to keep out of sight while he was around. Her entire future was at stake, and she had less than thirty days in which to salvage it. And she was not holding out much hope that her online course would affect the transformation she needed to save her career.

   Of course Aunt Mae had no way of knowing what was going on with Morgan, and she had no intention of telling her. Morgan adored her aunt. She was the only person she completely trusted. But ever since she had showed up for this “visit,” Mae had been pushing her mother’s memory on her. It had been a long while since she had pulled the picture-over-the-piano routine. It had to be the move back to their hometown that had re-triggered the fixation on her little sister.

   This was Morgan’s first visit back to Green Briar since Mae had accepted a teaching position in another state a few years after Lilli had disappeared.

   Morgan had been old enough to remember when she and her mother had lived in Green Briar together, but little seemed to remain of those memories. And, even though she had been back only four days, Morgan was certain her aunt was entertaining ideas of a match between her and Jacob Chandler as well.

   Morgan did not have the time or energy to deal with even the thought of a relationship right now. It was her turn to sigh, not even with someone as engaging as Jake. 

     “Uh Katie, do you make a habit of running around with total strangers? I mean you don’t really know me and I really don’t know you.”

     “Katie pushed her hair from her face as she came around the counter. “Well then, let’s make our introduction more formal. I’m Katherine McFarland and you’re Morgan…?”

    “Phillips.” Morgan stated as she again took Katie’s extended hand and applied a firm grip.

   “Well, Morgan Phillips, are you ready to blow this joint and broaden your horizons?”

   After seeing the picture of Lilli hanging on Mae’s wall, Jake understood perfectly why Charlie Browning had reacted the way he did when Morgan caught the lot of them by surprise at Buchanan’s a few days before. And in Green Briar, being the small town it was, news traveled fast. So Morgan’s remarkable resemblance to her mother had already caused a minor uproar among the locals.

   The story was that Lilli had returned.

   Jake knew that Mae was more than a little biased when it came to her sister, but he had to admit that her side of the story did make sense. He could also understand how upsetting it must be to Morgan to be visiting the town where her mother had disappeared. After all, she had been completely away from the scene for almost twenty years.

   And…he was more than a little intrigued with Lilli’s daughter.

Subscribe to book release announcement of Green Briar Lies at www.JEllenAndersen.com