Barbara Delinsky - Blake Sisters 2 An Accidental Woman

Barbara Delinsky - An Accidental Woman

by

Barbara Delinsky

The Woman Next Door

The Vineyard

Lake News

Coast Road

Three Wishes

A Woman's Place

Shades of Grace

Together Alone

For My Daughters

Suddenly

More than Friends

The Passions of Chelsea Kane

A Woman Betrayed

AN

WOMAN

A NOVEL

Simon & Schuster New York London Toronto Sydney Singapore SIMON & SCHUSTER

Rockefeller Center

1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2002 by Barbara Delinsky All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. SIMON SCHUSTER and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Manufactured in the United States of America

ISBN 0-7432-0470-0

Page 1

Barbara Delinsky - An Accidental Woman

My books would not emerge healthy and hardy without the help of many people. In the case of An Accidental Woman, I begin by thanking my agent, Amy Berkower, not only for the title but for her constant support, understanding, and enthusiasm. I also thank my editors, Michael Korda and Chuck Adams. This book was a complex one; I always knew that it would work, though I didn't always know how. I thank Michael and Chuck for their patience in enduring months of silence on my end, and for their trust that I would, indeed, get all the pieces of the pie in place.

An Accidental Woman deals with two issues about which I knew precious little, and though I did book research and Internet research, the firsthand information I received from two sources was crucial. Jean O'Leary was wonderful, sharing her time and expertise with regard to lower-spine injuries and life in a wheelchair. Likewise, Betty Ann Lock hart was generous, knowing, and imaginative as she guided me through the mechanics and the crises of maple syrup production. Both of these women "got it" when it came to my plot needs, for which I thank them profusely. If there are technical errors in this book, the fault is mine alone. An Accidental Woman is meant to be neither a manual on paraplegia nor one on maple syrup production. I've had to take what Jean and Betty Ann gave me and work it into my plot. I like to think that any technical errors I made in the process have more to do with poetic license than ignorance.

I'm a cat person, as many of you know. I often incorporate cats into my plots, because I do know what it's like to have a cat in the house--which

isn't to say that I know everything about cats. One of the things I don't know is part of An Accidental Woman. Instrumental in my getting this part right were the wonderful contributors to the bulletin board of the Best Friends Pet Sanctuary. Their response to my query was heartrending. I thank them, right along with the Sanctuary for the wonderful work that it does. My thanks, also, to myriad others who answered my questions on smaller matters. You all know who you are. Please know how much I appreciate your help--as I do, always, appreciate the help of my assistant. My thanks to Wendy Page for keeping my professional life in order so that I can focus on my writing.

As always, I thank my children--Eric and Jodi, Andrew, Jeremy, and Sherrie, listed in the order of their birth. Whether local or long-distance, they are the mainstay of my life. And Steve? He was there for me again. Not only did he feed me legal information, but, bless him, he sat over not one dinner but two and felt the emotion of my plot as I described the closing scenes to him. Tears in his eyes? A writer--a woman--a wife-couldn't ask for a better endorsement. Finally, I thank all of you readers. I'm not sure I would have ever tackled this story if it hadn't been for your urging, yet writing this story has been an extraordinarily gratifying experience for me. We hear lots nowadays about the mass market, the economics of publishing, the bottom line. For me, the bottom line has been and always will be my readers. My thanks to each and every one of you. AN ACCIDENTAL WOMAN

Within seconds of coming awake, Micah Smith felt a chill at the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the cold air seeping in through the window cracked open by his side of the bed. It was barely dawn. He didn't have to glance past Heather's body toward the nightstand clock to know that, but could see it in the purpling that preceded daylight when February snows covered the forest floor. The purpling seemed Page 2

Barbara Delinsky - An Accidental Woman

deeper this morning, but that wasn't what caused his alarm. Nor was it any sound from the girls' room that caused him to hold his breath. They would sleep for another hour, he knew, and if not sleep, then stay in bed until they heard Heather or him up and about. No. What held him totally still, eyes on that inch of open window, was the sound that came from beyond. Even in winter, the woods were filled with live things, but what he heard now was neither deer, nor owl, nor snowshoe rabbit. It was a car, moving very slowly down the snow crusted drive toward the small house that Micah had built for his family.

Get out of bed, cried a silent voice, but he remained inert. Barely breathing, he listened. Not one car. Two. They inched their way closer, then stopped. Their engines went still.

Do something, cried that silent voice, more urgent now, and he thought of the rifle that was mounted high above the front door, out of reach of the girls. But he couldn't move--couldn't move--other than to turn his head toward Heather. She continued to sleep, oblivious to what he heard, unaware of the thoughts that held him there against her warmth.

As he watched the swirl of her long dark hair touched by a generous dusting of silver, he heard the stealthy click of car doors--one, then a second. He imagined that there might be even more doors opening silently, carefully guided by hands trained in covert operations. A patch of Heather's pale shoulder showed through the tangle of her hair. He would have touched it if he hadn't feared waking her, but he didn't want that. Once she was awake, once she heard what he heard, once this moment ended, their lives would be changed. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. A part of him had been waiting for this moment, fearing it for four years--and it wasn't just a superstition, the idea that because one woman had left him, this one would, too. Heather wasn't like anyone else; she was unique.

The footsteps coming toward the house were careful, making only the occasional crunch on the snow, but a lifetime of living in the New Hampshire woods had trained Micah's ear well. The house was being surrounded. He figured that his rifle wouldn't do much good against the five or six people that he guessed were outside. Nor did he figure gun power was called for. The people out there weren't intent on violence. And what was happening was inevitable.

A soft knock came at the front door; a sound he might have missed if he'd been asleep. It had begun. He quickly slipped from under the thick down with a grace that belied his height and firm build. Silently he pulled on jeans and left the bedroom. In seconds, he was down the hall and through the living room. Not bothering with a light, he pulled the door open before another knock came, though Pete Duffy's hand was already raised.

Pete was second in command to Lake Henry's police chief William Ja cobs, and was a friend of Micah's, which was certainly why he'd been chosen to come. The authorities would want things kept calm: Having Pete there, a man Micah trusted, would help on that score, though the look of regret on the man's face did nothing to ease Micah's sense of dread as his eyes moved past his friend to a second man who stood just behind him on the front porch. Micah didn't know this man, or the two women who were with him. All three wore jeans and identical blue jackets that Micah knew must have law enforcement initials on the back.