SO ALONE.

Lois Carroll.

Chapter One.

"Give me a break," Carrie Whitmore cried out as she pulled the pillow over her head. She quickly discovered that not even the insulating feathers could silence the constant roar outside the open bedroom window that sounded louder each time it pa.s.sed.

Rudely aroused after too few hours of sleep, Carrie Whitmore sat up to identify the noise. Someone was pushing a gas-powered lawn mower next door to her grandmother's house.

Carrie's knit nightgown twisted around her as she glanced at the clock on the antique walnut table beside the sleigh bed in which she had slept. Seven-thirty! And on a Sat.u.r.day morning. Way too early for that much racket. They were mowing the church lawn, for heaven's sake. They should be more considerate, especially in a small, country town like Sunville, North Dakota.

Suddenly the fact that she was in Sunville and not at home in Fargo registered in her sleepy head. She gasped. "Oh, no! You can't make that much noise now." She threw off the light handmade quilt. "You'll wake up Grandma."

Her grandmother, Madeleine Whitmore, was sleeping in one of the other five bedrooms in the immaculately preserved three-story Victorian house. At least Carrie hoped she was still asleep.

Maddie, as everyone called the eighty-three-year-old founding member of the little Sunville Community Church behind her house, had kept Carrie up far into the night. Dressed only in her nightgown and robe, Maddie had been determined to go to church. Carrie worked to convince her grandmother, whose mind often wasn't in touch with reality as her Alzheimer's got worse, that services weren't until Sunday. She repeatedly promised to take Maddie then, but only when she finally tired was Carrie able to get her back to bed.

Now, after little sleep Carrie worried that the mower would wake her. "Grandma," she muttered. "Please, please stay asleep."

That noise had to stop. Now.

Carrie jumped out of bed and grabbed her shirt from the chair where she'd dropped it the night before. She pulled it on over the nightgown with North Dakota State University blazoned across the front, and reached for her jeans. Hopping on one leg at a time in a zigzag path toward the stairs, she stuffed her legs into the pants and tucked in her nightgown.

The jeans zipped easily and she began b.u.t.toning the shirt while she sailed two-at-a-time down the stairs of the huge house. Her hand pivoted around the highly-polished newel post as she ran toward the big eat-in kitchen that stretched across the back of the house.

Just a few b.u.t.tons remained. She always had thought so many contrasting b.u.t.tons close together were cute, but this morning she wished there were half as many. She hesitated only a moment longer to finish down to the last one as the insistent roar set her off at a run again.

"Come on. Come on," she urged when the old-fashioned lock on the door stopped her and added to her ire. She supposed she could have left it unlocked the night before as Maddie always did, but Carrie lived in Fargo, the biggest city in the state. She didn't feel safe unless the doors were locked.

The noise was increasing as the worker neared the hedgerow that provided a privacy screen and separated Maddie's lawn from the church's.

Stepping out the door, Carrie carefully closed the screen to keep it from slamming and dashed across the deep yard. She ducked through the break near the end of the row of bushes where people had worn a path by cutting through for decades.

Breathless from the pace at which she'd traversed the distance, Carrie darted across the church lawn and stopped ahead of the mower. Her heart and breathing rate raced. She clutched her side where a muscle was cramping from the sudden exercise.

She held up her hand like a school crossing guard. "Stop. Please. Do you have any idea what time it is?" she managed breathlessly, her chest heaving.

As the lawn-service guy stretched out his strong arm and turned off the mower, Carrie straightened. She was relieved to discover the muscle in her side no longer pulled.

"Thank you," she said, waving a hand toward the mower.

As she swallowed and steadied her breathing, she couldn't help noticing his shoulders were a great deal broader than his tee shirt was expected to accommodate. His worn, cut-off jeans and holey sneakers had seen much better days, but then she wasn't expecting to find North Dakota's best-dressed man working behind a lawn mower.

She didn't remember seeing him around town before, but she hadn't been back for more than brief visits since she had graduated eight years ago from the area high school.

Realizing how rudely she was staring, she quickly said, "Ah, I'm sorry to interrupt your work. I appreciate your turning the mower off."

His dark hair had fallen forward, and he ran his fingers through it, pulling it into some order. She didn't want to notice how tall and attractive he was, not someone in this town, but she couldn't help doing so.

"No problem," he said with a friendly smile.

He whipped off his sungla.s.ses, revealing the lightest blue eyes she'd ever seen. Struggling to persevere in her mission, Carrie swallowed past a new lump that had settled in her throat and looked down at the mower instead of at the man.

"My grandmother... the noise..." she tried to explain. "I was up half the night getting her to sleep. She's ill and... and now you're making so much noise--so early. I was afraid you'd wake her up." She glanced at his friendly smile and then couldn't look away.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I woke her," he said in a smooth baritone voice. "I guess I was so wrapped up in getting my work done that I didn't think about how early it is." He stepped around the mower toward her and pulled the work gloves from his hands. "And I'm sorry I woke you up, too."

"Woke me up?" Her hand splayed on her chest. How did he know she'd not chosen to get up with the sun like the workers on the grain and sugar beet farms that surrounded Sunville?

"Yeah." His smile blossomed into a grin. A little-boy mischievousness sparkled in his eyes. "Or do you always b.u.t.ton your shirt that way?"

Carrie pulled her shirt tails forward and saw two empty b.u.t.tonholes at the bottom of one side while two lonely b.u.t.tons sat at the top of the other. She groaned. Her embarra.s.sment doubled, but she had to smile at how silly it looked. "You caught me."

His close inspection reinforced her need for a quick exit. She steeled herself with a deep breath. "Listen. Thanks for stopping the mower. I... I know that with the new minister having been at the church just a few months and all, you want to get the lawn done early to make a good impression."

"No, I'm not..."

She didn't let him finish. "Believe me, an hour or so isn't going to make much difference to Reverend... ah... whatever his name is. But an hour could make a big difference in how my grandmother feels when she wakes up. Thanks again for stopping."

Carrie turned back toward the hedge to make her escape. He followed a few steps, and Carrie stopped reluctantly when he spoke.

"Wait, I'm really sorry about the noise," he reiterated with that friendly grin that seemed to appear so easily. "You see, the church youth group is due in an hour to start a car wash. I can finish mowing later, but as for doing it for..."

"Good," she said, interrupting him again. "I'll be sure to put in the good word for you with Reverend What's-his-name when I meet him--if I meet him, actually. I hope I won't be stuck in this town that long."

The workman frowned and tried to say something, but she shook her head and stopped him yet again. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he understands that it was entirely my fault that the lawn mowing wasn't finished before the kids got here. As a matter a fact, if Grandma's up to going to church tomorrow, I'll tell him myself. I promise," she said, backing away. "Thanks again," she called over her shoulder as she turned and dashed through the break in the bushes.

She was jerked to a stop when the sleeve of her shirt caught on a broken branch jutting out beside the path. In a moment's panic about her new blouse, she stepped back, hoping to lift the cloth from the stout twig. She could hear the man's footsteps coming up behind her.

"Need some help?"

She glanced back to see he was nearly at her side. "No, ah, no thanks."

Unable to move because the splintered end of the branch was caught in the hem st.i.tches, she felt embarra.s.sed--again. Here was one more in a series of uncomfortable and guilt provoking events that always seemed to happen to her when she visited Sunville. Determined not to feed the rumor mill with a story about her and some workman, she yanked the cloth free from the branch without taking time to a.s.sess the resulting damage and fled toward her grandmother's kitchen door.

The man called something out to her, but she kept on running, her heart pounding in her ears, obliterating his words. Once inside Maddie's kitchen, Carrie closed the door and leaned against the cool painted surface of the wall beside it. Her heart and breathing rate were still rapid, and she knew he was the cause. That man with the gorgeous smile.

She'd let him affect her with his good looks and friendly att.i.tude. The sparkle in his eyes had triggered a response in her that she'd never expected and certainly never intended to feel about any man from around Sunville. Not ever again.

Hers was a response that could not be permitted if she was to stay free and clear of Sunville, something she'd had to do since her senior year at the state university. After what had happened that year and the fact that everyone blamed her for it, she knew she could never be happy living in Sunville.

She frowned and turned to look out the window that was centered in the top half of the back door. She watched the lawn-care guy push the mower through the side door of the church.

Somehow this man was different from others she knew. When he looked at her, she felt as if he could see all the terrible secrets she thought she'd buried. If he did, he would turn against her like most people in this town had.

He wouldn't be easy for her to ignore if their paths ever crossed again though. It would be best to steer clear of him altogether, she decided. She hoped that would be easy to do since she wasn't staying long.

Confident in her new resolve, she ran upstairs to check on her grandmother. With all Carrie had to accomplish while she was in town this time, she probably should be glad to have the extra time available by being awakened much earlier than she'd planned. Maybe she should thank the lawn guy for waking her the next time she saw him, but then, there wouldn't be a next time.

She tiptoed across the hall to Maddie's room and peeked in the open door. Maddie was still asleep, her slender body barely making a mound in the bed. Her hair, as white as the pillowcase under her head, framed her face that looked so serene in slumber.

If only more rest would make you well, Carrie thought, but she knew it wouldn't. Maddie was getting worse and that's what had brought Carrie back to Sunville now instead of the first weekend of each month when she normally visited.

She'd returned to employ live-in help for her grandmother. Such responsibilities had fallen to her since her parents had died the summer before her senior year at NDSU. Her sister, Mary Ellen Morse, who lived in Boulder, Colorado, was Maddie's only other close relative. However, Mary Ellen was in no position to help Carrie because she worked full-time and had a husband and two young daughters who needed her there.

For a number of years, Maddie had managed quite well on her own and enjoyed the independent living in her own home. Several months earlier, however, when she'd shown signs of needing help, Carrie had hired a housekeeper to look after her. Working days, the housekeeper did all the cooking and cleaning. On Maddie's bad days, the housekeeper even helped her bathe and dress and sometimes served meals in her bedroom when she couldn't make it down the stairs. However, that help had not been enough.

Last weekend, dressed in her nightgown, Maddie had wandered out of the house after the housekeeper left for the night. Coming home from a date, some neighborhood teenagers had seen her and walked her home. With a caring concern for her neighbor, the young woman persuaded Maddie to go back to bed before she and her boyfriend left to tell the girl's mother what had happened.

The following morning, the girl's mother called the one clinic in town to report the incident to Maddie's doctor, Bill Bolton. Bill immediately called Carrie's apartment in Fargo to tell her. Carrie had long resented the small-town environment where everyone knew everyone else's business because of all the pain she'd suffered as the subject of numerous rumors. In this instance, it had seemed heaven-sent, and she was thankful.

After rearranging her work responsibilities as an a.s.sistant editor at a company that published several magazines, Carrie took a leave of absence to tend to Maddie herself until she found live-in help to take over. She hoped that wouldn't take longer than a few days at the most.

Heading back to a room on the back of the house where she always slept on her visits, Carrie hugged the wall to avoid the squeaky floor boards. After a childhood of playing and sleeping here whenever her folks were out of town, she knew where each loose board was.

After showering and dressing again, this time in a clean knit top with no b.u.t.tons, Carrie headed for the kitchen. She made just a small pot of coffee for herself because Maddie had to steer clear of caffeine, and then Carrie phoned her sister.

"I'm in Sunville, and the news isn't good," she reported.

"Let me have it," Mary Ellen responded in her typical no-nonsense way.

"I talked to Dr. Bolton as soon as I got to town yesterday. He said we have no choice. We must find

someone to live with Grandma full-time, to see that she eats properly, and to care for her when she isn't capable herself. It was hard to hear him say we can't trust her not to wander off again." Mary Ellen was silent. From the rustling, Carrie guessed she was wiping away her tears with a tissue just as Carrie had done in Bill's office. "I asked him if she was..." Carrie inhaled deeply to strengthen her voice. "Dying," she finally said, not wanting to utter the word. "What did he say?" Mary Ellen asked hoa.r.s.ely. "Well," Carrie began, picking out the positive things to tell her first. "He said she's not in any pain or discomfort, and except for what is probably Alzheimer's, she's very healthy for her age. She could live for years."

"That sounds good," Mary Ellen responded, her voice more cheerful.

"But he wasn't finished. As time pa.s.ses she'll forget things more, and she'll be aware of less around her.

Sometimes she won't even know people who have been her friends for years. She won't know us!"

"I didn't know she was that bad."

Carrie waited while Mary Ellen blew her nose. "I had no idea how far Grandma's illness had progressed. Mom and Dad always tended to her, not me."

"I knew they spent a lot of time at Grandma's house," Mary Ellen said, "helping to fix this and that. Dad

was always taking his tool kit over there for something." "Yeah, but now it's Grandma who needs the fixing. And Mary Ellen? I don't know what tool we can use to fix the problem for her." "There's nothing we can do to make her better? Some pill she could take? An operation?" Mary Ellen asked hopefully. "The doctor said no. If we can't find help night and day for Grandma, the only other alternative is a nursing home. She can't be left home alone any longer." "Oh, Carrie, it would break her heart to leave that house. She's lived there since she got married." "I know. I know. I could never be the one to make her leave. And I don't want to even think about going to that nursing home again where Ralph died. I couldn't stand being reminded of what happened there every time I visited grandma. I've spent all these years fighting the guilt I still feel, not to mention wishing the people in this town would forget about it, too."

"I understand, hon. Really, I do. And there must be something else that can be done."

"Well, the doctor gave me the name of two services that provide round-the-clock care-givers. Neither

one is in Sunville, but that doesn't surprise me." Carrie hadn't hidden her contempt in her voice for the shortcomings of the small town. "Anyway, I drove right here from the doctor's office and..." She broke off what she had begun to say and sighed heavily.

"What is it? What happened?" her sister asked.

"I came in the front door calling to Grandma like I always do. The housekeeper said she was upstairs in bed."

"Was she okay?"

"I ran upstairs to see her. I... I..." Carrie sniffled.

"What? Tell me."

"Grandma asked me who I was!" Carrie admitted. She pulled a piece of paper towel from the roll over the sink and wiped the tears that had escaped down her cheeks.

"Oh, hon," Mary Ellen said, sounding equally moved.

"By the time the housekeeper left, Grandma at least understood that someone different would be staying the night. I can't tell you how sad and lonely I felt."

Mary Ellen blew her nose again. "What are you going to do?" "I'd like to think it's, 'What are we going to do?'," Carrie responded pointedly. "I can't stay here and take care of her for more than a few days because I could loose my job. It's complicated, but small companies don't have to hold jobs for people on emergency leave. And there's no job in this town for me unless I want to bag groceries or hoe sugar beets, that's for sure."

"I hate to leave this all to you to handle. I had to do that when Mom and Dad died, and I've always felt guilty. And then Ralph died a few months after Mom and Dad's accident. I still feel awful about not being there for you."

"No need for us both to feel guilty," she said with a weak try at a laugh. "You couldn't help that you were eight months pregnant when Mom and Dad had the accident, Mary Ellen. Everyone understood why you weren't here."

"It makes me wish even more that I could help you now, but all I can say is that I'll go along with whatever you decide."

Carrie shouldered the heavy burden of determining Maddie's fate without a complaint. "As long as Grandma can afford it, I'll find a full-time, live-in caregiver then."

Mary Ellen agreed.

"Until I find one, I'll tend to her. Speaking of which, I'd better start getting our breakfast. I'll call again when I have more news."

Carrie said her goodbyes and set the phone back in its cradle. She washed her hands and poured a cup of coffee, thinking about all she had to do and wondering how best to do it.

She knew no one in Sunville to whom she could turn for help or support. She felt so alone and nearly overwhelmed by her responsibilities.

If only she still believed that G.o.d could help her when she needed him.