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    Keeper of Secrets
    Keeper of Secrets
    Keeper of Secrets
    Ebook71 pages2 hours

    Keeper of Secrets

    By J. A. Clarke

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A shocking betrayal by the man she thought she loved is forcing Shawna Carlton to make some critical life choices. All she craves is peace and quiet this holiday season. The isolated cabin in the Mt. Hood National Forest seems perfect for reflection. But that’s before she discovers she has a woman-hating neighbor, and the old fishing cabin is home to more than just layers of dust.

    Dr. Gregory Harris has his own heart-rending reasons for seeking solitude during the holiday season. What he doesn’t need is a noisy, helpless, forest-challenged city girl moving in next door. Before he know it, he’s chopping her wood, building her fires and letting her use his modern plumbing.

    Fresh from the pain of lost love, can two people who sought solitude in the vastness of a forest, begin to heal together? This title is published by Uncial Press and is distributed worldwide by Untreed Reads.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherUntreed Reads
    Release dateNov 18, 2011
    ISBN9781601741257
    Keeper of Secrets

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      Book preview

      Keeper of Secrets - J. A. Clarke

      KEEPER OF SECRETS

      A Holiday Novel Byte

      By

      J.A. Clarke

      Uncial Press       Aloha, Oregon

      2011

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-125-7

      ISBN 10: 1-60174-125-1

      Keeper of Secrets

      Copyright © 2011 by Joy Clarke

      Cover design

      Copyright © 2011 by Judith B. Glad

      Previously published by AweStruck eBooks, 2003; Fictionwise 2005

      All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.

      Published by Uncial Press,

      an imprint of GCT, Inc.

      Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

      To the cabin on Mt. Hood--the best getaway and dog vacation spot in the world.

      Chapter One

      This had been a lousy idea.

      Shawna Carlton scowled at the padlock clenched in her frozen hand. Rain lashed at her back. Her jeans were soaked through. Her jacket, too thin for winter-wear in the mountains, was no protection against the hard pellets of rain or the cold. A hot shower had never sounded so good.

      The flashlight's weak beam wavered as she focused it on the tiny numbers of the lock. She had tried the combination three times already. Either she had written the numbers down wrong, or Debra hadn't given her the right combination.

      Tears fueled by frustration, exhaustion and days of stress threatened to erupt and she sagged against the old wooden door. She couldn't handle the drive back into town. Not this late at night. Not as tired as she was. Not along that ghastly, dark-as-Hell, pothole-filled U.S. Forest Service road. Even if her car made it, she was in no shape for the one and a half hour drive back to Portland.

      She swiped her sleeve across her eyes, blew on her fingers and concentrated on the padlock again. The beam of the flashlight flickered, and flickered again just she rolled the last row of numbers. Nothing. In sheer frustration, she yanked up, then down on the lock and saw the bolt separate just as the weak light died.

      Hallelujah. Bolstered by her victory, she pulled the lock from the hasp, released the latch and pushed. The door swung open on a dark, musty cavity as frigid as a mausoleum, colder even than the external temperature. Her courage faltered.

      Old and rustic, but it does have electricity, Debra had assured her. Electricity meant there must be a light switch somewhere. She shook her flashlight. It cooperated with a pale circle of light for only a second. She gritted her teeth, stepped inside and ran her hand down the wall next to the door. The surface was rough, splintery. A clingy, sticky substance wrapped itself around her fingers.

      She snatched her hand away and wiped it on her jeans. No switch. She shifted to her right. This time she felt something cold and metal and, just below it, the familiar shape of a light switch. She flicked it. A single bare light bulb in the center of the room came on.

      Oh. My. God.

      Old and rustic for sure. Debra had not exaggerated about that. It was a grungy retreat only a man could love. And Debra, Shawna remembered now, had never set foot in her boyfriend's fishing get-away. A miniscule kitchen occupied one corner with a cooktop, a sink and a box refrigerator. A wooden bunk bed stood in the opposite corner. A sagging couch sporting huge, grimy blue cabbage roses was a candidate for the landfill, and a table and four mismatched chairs were pushed against an undraped window. A forest of cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

      Shawna shuddered, then shivered as a powerful chill gripped her body. She studied the room again. It held nothing that looked like a heat source, except for the fireplace several inches deep in ashes.

      Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, she muttered. She had no one to blame but herself. Debra had tried to talk her out of this, but she had convinced herself that peace and quiet and isolation were what she desperately needed. No matter what.

      Now she wasn't so sure about the no matter what part.

      She sucked in a deep breath, yanked the hood of her jacket over her head and trudged back out into the pouring rain to start unloading her car.

      Twenty minutes later, she stood in front of the fireplace again. There was a box of matches on the stone mantle above it, and three inadequate pieces of wood in the wood box. She'd never built a fire in her life, but she was sure three measly pieces wouldn't do it.

      The rain still fell in torrents. She wrapped her arms around herself and reluctantly turned toward the door. If the small shed beside which her car was parked didn't hold wood, she was in

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