Celebration Read online

  Books by Fern Michaels:

  Up Close and Personal

  Fool Me Once

  Picture Perfect

  About Face

  The Future Scrolls

  Kentucky Sunrise

  Kentucky Heat

  Kentucky Rich

  Plain Jane

  Charming Lily

  What You Wish For

  The Guest List

  Listen to Your Heart

  Celebration

  Yesterday

  Finders Keepers

  Annie’s Rainbow

  Sara’s Song

  Vegas Sunrise

  Vegas Heat

  Vegas Rich

  Whitefire

  Wish List

  Dear Emily

  The Sisterhood Novels:

  Final Justice

  Collateral Damage

  Fast Track

  Hokus Pokus

  Hide and Seek

  Free Fall

  Sweet Revenge

  The Jury

  Vendetta

  Payback

  Weekend Warriors

  Anthologies:

  Silver Bells

  Comfort and Joy

  Sugar and Spice

  Let It Snow

  A Gift of Joy

  Five Golden Rings

  Deck the Halls

  Jingle All the Way

  FERN MICHAELS

  CELEBRATION

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Books by Fern Michaels:

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  PART I - Bremen, Germany 1987

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  PART II - Leesburg, Virginia 1991

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  PART III - Nairobi, Kenya 1995

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  Epilogue

  DON’T MISS FERN MICHAELS’S NEW PAPERBACK!

  Copyright Page

  For Cher Hildebrand, Pat Walker,

  and all those beautiful Goldenray Yorkshire terriers

  Prologue

  Mary, 1963

  Kristine Summers gathered up her books the moment the school bus ground to a stop. She turned around to look at Logan Kelly to see if he was going to follow her. He was staring out the window. It was what she expected. Still it hurt. Sometimes Logan was so thoughtless, so inconsiderate.

  She stood at the farm-road entrance waving until the big yellow bus was out of sight. Then her shoulders slumped. She wanted to cry so badly. For some reason she always wanted to cry when Logan was away from her. Once she’d asked him if he ever felt the same way. He’d said yes, but only after a very long pause.

  Logan was still miffed that she wasn’t going north to college in the fall. Like it was really her fault. Sometimes he just refused to understand. He wasn’t going to understand that she couldn’t go to the prom with him next week, either. She should have told him today but was unable to make her tongue say the words in the lunchroom. Or was it the fear that if she told him, he would take someone else? If she waited till the last minute, no other girl would go with him at the eleventh hour. It took weeks of planning, getting just the right dress, the right shoes, getting one’s hair done professionally, and all the other stuff that went with going to the most important event of the year.

  As Kristine trudged down the road, she wished, the way she wished every day of her life, that she lived in town instead of way out here where there was nothing to do and nowhere to go except another farm. If she wanted to, she could run across the fields and be at Logan’s house before the bus got there. She’d done it before, the wind in her hair, her feet winged. Logan had never reciprocated. Oh, he’d come to the farm, but always on horseback. He never stayed, saying her parents didn’t like him. She didn’t know if it was true or not. They’d put obstacles in her path but had never come right out and said they didn’t like Logan. Logan said you had to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to see their feelings. He made her feel stupid when she defended her parents. Logan made her feel stupid a lot of the time, especially in front of his friends. If she didn’t love him so much, she wouldn’t care. She never let him see how he hurt her, preferring to cry into her pillow at night.

  “Pick up your feet, girl,” Jason Summers bellowed. “I need you down at the barn.”

  “Okay, Daddy. I just have to change my clothes.”

  “Make it fast and don’t be mooning over that prom dress hanging in your room either.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” She knew better than to argue. Just once she wished her father would call her by her name or one that sounded endearing, like honey or sweetheart. He was like Logan’s parents, cold and hard. Her mother wasn’t much better.

  In her room, Kristine shed her clothes and pulled on her coveralls. She tried not to look at the frothy dress hanging on the closet door. She’d bought the material herself in town and had taken it straight to her home economics class, where Evelyn Russell had agreed to help her make the dress so it would be ready for the prom. Miss Russell had even delivered it to the farm so Kristine wouldn’t have to carry it home on the bus.

  She’d fallen in love with the material, which was the color of the spring bluebells that dotted the fields. The yards and yards of tulle that Miss Russell helped her sew onto the waist made her feel like a fairy princess. Her mother had gasped, then smiled when she saw it. Not so her father. He’d frowned, wanting to know what she was going to wear under the skinny, lacy straps that exposed her neck and shoulders. Right then she’d told the first lie of her life to her father, saying a shawl went with the dress that tucked around the straps. Her mother had actually winked slyly at her, recognizing the lie. Even then her mother must have known she wouldn’t be going to the prom with Logan. Sometimes she almost hated her parents.

  Kristine took a moment to stare at the lovely gown. Evelyn Russell said it would be the prettiest dress at the prom and went on to say she might even be picked prom queen. It was a given that Logan would be king. King Logan Kelly. Queen Kristine Summers. Tears dripped down Kristine’s cheeks.

  “Kristine, your father’s waiting!” her mother called from the bottom of the steps.

  “I’m coming, Mom.” With one last longing look at the gown she’d never get to wear, Kristine ran through the hall and down the steps.

  “Is something wrong, Kristine?” her mother asked.

  “Of course something is wrong, Mom. I can’t go to the prom. I worked for months on that dress. I used up all my spending money on it. You know how important the prom is to me. Now Logan’s probably going to take someone else. How do you think I feel knowing that? It was bad enough when you and Dad said I couldn’t go to Cornell. I didn’t think you’d forbid me the prom, too. I don’t want to go to the community college. It’s going to take me a long time to become a vet. I need to go to the right schools.”

  “Ladies in our family do not become veterinarians. Teaching is a suitable profession. Nursing is acceptable.”

  Kristine’s shoulders slumped. She was never going to win this battle. Eventually, though, she’d win the war. She offered up a parting shot, “I have no intention of becoming a teacher or a nurse. I would be a failure at those professions. I’m going to marry Logan Kelly. I don’t care if you like it or not.”

  “Don’t you sass your
mother, young lady. I won’t tolerate it.”

  Kristine whirled around. “You don’t tolerate anything, do you, Mom? You don’t care about me at all. If you did, you’d help me. You know how bad I want to go to the prom. All you care about are those animals in the barn and Daddy. Why’d you ever have me in the first place? I’m never going to forgive you for this. You aren’t a mother, you’re . . . You’re like some evil stepmother. I’ve been a good daughter, Mom, I really have. I’ve always been respectful, I get up at four-thirty to help in the barns, I clean house and cook and do laundry. I never, ever, gave you one moment of distress. You don’t have to go to Roanoke. You could go the following week. Do you know how I know that, Mom? I called the Jetsons and asked them myself. You lied to me. My own mother lying to me. I’m never going to forgive you for that, either.”

  “That will be enough, young lady!”

  “No, that’s not enough. I’m not going down to the barn today.”

  Kristine ran then, her barn boots digging up the soft earth, the clumps flying behind her. She was breathless, falling to the ground when she finally reached the Kelly front yard. “Logan!” she screamed as loud as she could.

  Logan raised the window on the second floor. “Kris! What are you doing here? I’ll be right down!”

  “Hide me,” she cried as she threw herself into his arms. “My father’s going to come after me. I had a row with my mother. Hurry, Logan, where can we go?”

  “The woods, I guess. Is he going to come with a shotgun?”

  “If he had one, he would. I don’t think that old blunderbuss hanging in the living room works. We need to hurry, Logan. I’m scared.”

  “What the hell did you do, Kris?” Logan asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “I sassed Mom and didn’t go down to the barn to work the way I always do after school. Listen, Logan, I need to tell you something.”

  “We’re still too close to the field. He’ll spot us right away. Run, Kris.”

  “Logan., I can’t run anymore. I ran all the way here. They know this is where I’ll come. Did your parents see me?”

  “Nah. They’re in town. Mom goes to the beauty parlor on Fridays and today is Dad’s week to get his haircut. No one’s in the house. Okay, I think this is far enough. Now what do you want to tell me?”

  “I can’t go to the prom, Logan.”

  “What are you saying?” Logan hissed.

  “I’m saying I can’t go to the prom. My parents are going to Roanoke to the Jetsons. They lied to me. They don’t want me going with you. I called the Jetsons and Mrs. Jetson said the following week would be better for their visit but that my parents insisted on next week. Oh, Logan, I worked so hard on my gown. It’s so beautiful, and now I’m never going to get to wear it.”

  “Now what am I supposed to do, Kris? We had a good chance of being prom king and queen. This is shit for the birds. Can’t you get around your parents? Did you cry and do all that girl stuff?”

  “That doesn’t work in our house. I have to do what I’m told. I’m not going back there. I mean it. If you bring me your sleeping bag and some food, I can camp out here. Let them think I ran away. Maybe they’ll appreciate me then.”

  “Kristine, what about the prom?”

  “What about it, Logan? I can’t go. Are you still going to go?” Kristine felt her heart jump around in her chest as she waited for his reply.

  “Just because you can’t go doesn’t mean I can’t. My parents are dreary, too, but they wouldn’t stop me from going to the prom.”

  “Are you saying you want to take someone else?”

  “I don’t want to take someone else. How’s it going to look me going stag? Everyone knows you’re my girl. Are you going to tell everyone your parents won’t let you go? They’ll laugh you right out of school. I’ll say you’re sick.”

  “Who . . . who will you take?”

  “Maybe Ellie Norris.”

  Kristine started to cry. “You could stay home with me. You could come over to the farm and it will be just us. I’d like that. Your parents wouldn’t even need to know.”

  “Maybe I could do that after the prom. We could fool around if no one is going to be around.”

  Kristine cried harder.

  “You gotta do something, Kris,” Logan said. “First they said you can’t go to Cornell. You’re Cornell material. All your teachers said so. Now this. I’m only going to see you summers.”

  “We can write letters. I’ll write every day.”

  “It’s not like your parents are poor, Kris. They make bundles of money breeding those show dogs.”

  Kristine continued to cry. “I know. Are you really going to take Ellie Norris to the prom?”

  “Well, sure. I’m going to go up to the house and call her. I’ll bring the sleeping bag and some sandwiches. Do you want a soda?”

  “Are you going to buy her a corsage and kiss her good night?” Kris sobbed.

  “Only if I have to. Stop crying, Kris. You don’t look nice when you blubber like that. You need to blow your nose, too.”

  “Sometimes you sound like my father,” Kristine said as she stifled her tears.

  “I won’t be long. Don’t go anywhere.”

  The moment Kristine knew Logan was safely in the house, she got up and started the long walk home. Better to go home and take her punishment before her father sent the sheriff out to look for her. It didn’t matter now. Her little act of defiance was already costing her dearly.

  Kristine applied her makeup, curled her hair, and slipped into her prom dress. The dogs would love it. She tripped down to the barn, holding her skirts high so they wouldn’t drag in the dirt. With the barn door closed tightly, Kristine let all the dogs and pups out of their little stalls. As they swirled around the barn, sniffing everything in sight, Kristine plugged in her record player. A dog cuddled in each arm, she danced to the strains of the music, tears rolling down her cheeks. Each dog had a turn around the floor to the mellow voice of Nat King Cole.

  Exhausted, Kristine toppled to the pile of hay used for the kennels. The dogs frisked about, sniffing and tearing at the tulle on her gown. She laughed and cried. “I bet you think I’m good enough to be a queen, don’t you?” The miniature Teacup Yorkies were everywhere, licking at her tears, nibbling at her ears, pulling at her hair. Finally, they settled down in the straw next to the sleeping girl.

  It was late, after one in the morning, when Logan Kelly cracked the barn door slightly to look inside. The sudden uproar made him slam it shut. “It’s me, Kris.”

  “You have to wait until I get the dogs back in their stalls, Logan.” Thank you, God, for letting him come. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou.

  “It’s okay, you can come in now. I’m so glad you came, Logan. How was the prom? Did you have a good time? Did Ellie look nice? Did you kiss her good night?”

  “Is that your prom dress? You ruined it. Why’d you do that, Kris? There’s dog poop all over the hem. Jeez,” Logan said, a look of disgust on his face.

  Please don’t let me cry. Please, God, don’t let me cry. “I think, Logan Kelly, you need to go home. The prom is over. I don’t even care if you kissed Ellie Norris. I danced with my dogs all night. I don’t care if there is dog poop on my dress. If you’d been a real boyfriend, you would have stayed here with me instead of taking Ellie Norris to the prom. Maybe my parents are right about you. Go home now so I can throw this gown in the trash and go to bed.”

  “Don’t you want to hear about me being named prom king?”

  “No, I do not want to hear about you being named prom king. Don’t ever tell me about it.”

  “It’s not my fault you missed the prom. Lay the blame on your parents where it belongs,” Logan blustered.

  “I will, but I’m laying it on you, too. You said you loved me. If you did, Logan, you would have stayed here with me. You go home and think about that.”

  “Okay, I will,” Logan said, stomping out of the barn.

  Kristine checked the dogs on
e last time, turned the lights low, locked the barn door, and walked up to the house, where she stripped off the prom gown in the kitchen, bundled it into a brown grocery bag, and tossed it in the trash can on the back porch.

  Logan Kelly didn’t love her.

  It was all just one big, bad dream.

  PART I

  Bremen, Germany 1987

  1

  Kristine Kelly propped her chin on her elbow to better observe her husband’s slick, naked body. She felt a second burst of passion but knew she had to squelch it. Instead, she stared boldly at Logan’s hard, wet body, aware that he was staring just as boldly at her. How was it, she wondered, that after twenty years of making love to the same man, she could feel exactly the same as she had felt on her wedding night? She was about to voice the question aloud when Logan said, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” She squirmed closer, savoring the slickness of their two bodies meshed together. Was it her imagination or did Logan’s words sound practiced, rehearsed, even flat? Where was the light teasing banter that was always present after one of their marathon lovemaking sessions? Why wasn’t Logan lighting a cigarette the way he usually did? A cigarette they both puffed on. According to Logan, a cigarette was the ultimate conclusion to a satisfying session of lovemaking. She didn’t know if she agreed or not. If the choice was hers, she would opt for serious pillow talk and a second round of lovemaking. The cigarette was always better the second time around. She waited.

  “Well?”

  “Of course,” she said, offering up her standard response. “I feel like crying,” she blurted.

  “Are you going to cave in on me now, Kris? We’ve been over this a hundred times. You said you were okay with it. The kids said they were okay with it. Thirty days is not an eternity. You’ve been a model military wife, so don’t go all wimpy on me now and screw it up. We’ve always gone by the book. It is not the end of the world. When you return to the States you will be so busy you won’t have time to miss me. You need to register the kids for school, get the farmhouse ready, buy a car, get ready for the holidays. It’s the way it is, Kris. What is your problem?”