If his sister could read his mind, she'd have him committed. He wondered what she'd say Friday night when she spotted him in the stands with Lana and Sydney at his side?

Chapter Six.

Lana was sure she felt stares and caught a few double takes as she and Sydney passed through the gate at Warrior Field and stood behind the blue-and-gold streamer-laden goalposts soaking up the ambience of small-town football. She took a minute to look around, identifying familiar faces, scoping out the changes as well as the things that had remained the same.

Already in the stands, an overzealous drummer pounded a rhythm while the band warmed up. Flutes squeaked and tubas oomphed. On the grassy field, fresh-faced boys in shoulder pads went through their pregame warm-up ritual. Number seventeen called out drills that had the players falling to the ground and popping up to high-step in place a few seconds and then start the drill all over again. They counted out in a raspy chorus of adolescent male voices.

The stands were filling rapidly. Dozens of people filed through the gate while buttery popcorn permeated the air with its alluring scent.

Lana shaded her eyes from the glare of the tall bright lights, searching for Davis. "Do you see Paige and Nathan yet?"

Sydney, giddy with excitement but clueless about football, shook her head. "Not yet."

"Hello, Lana."

Lana turned to see a familiar face. "Jack?"

Jack Macabee hadn't changed much other than some lines around his eyes. He still wore his golden-blond hair a little long and his eyes were still as green as grass. Tall, thin and lanky, he'd been a good basketball player. Tonight, he wore his high school letter jacket, as did many alumni, and it still fit him as well as it had thirteen years ago.

"I heard you were back," he said. "How's it going?"

"So far so good." Lana felt her shoulders relaxing. Just having a friendly face to talk to helped ease the strain of being in a new situation. She and Jack had gotten along pretty well way back when. "Davis Turner and I were talking about you the other day. He said you're a farmer now."

"Chief supplier to the pumpkin cannery," he said.

"That's great."

After that she wasn't sure what to say so they stood in silence until he asked, "Is this your little girl?"

"This is Sydney," she answered with a smile of agreement. "Do you have kids?"

"One. Ryan. He's ten. Since the divorce he lives with his mother in Fayetteville so I don't see him as much as I'd like. I get him every other weekend."

"That must be tough."

A look of resignation flashed. "You adjust to what you have to."

She certainly understood that and was about to say so when a hand wrapped around her upper arm.

A masculine voice muttered, "You got here first."

"Davis!"

The two men exchanged handshakes and began to talk about the Warriors' chances against their mighty rivals, the Longview Lions. After a brief conversation, Davis motioned toward the stands. "If we want a good spot, we'd better get up there. Want to join us, Jack?"

"Sounds good." He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, an action that made him look like the youthful athlete she remembered. "Sure you don't mind?"

"Not a bit. Right, Lana?"

"Absolutely." She turned a genuine smile on Jack. Having another person along besides Davis's matchmaking kids provided more buffer and made her life easier. "The more the merrier as far as I'm concerned. It will be great to catch up again."

"I appreciate it. Since the divorce, I feel like the odd man out."

"I'm with you there," Davis said. "Being single again is awkward at times."

As they started forward, lost in manly conversation about offenses and defenses, Lana held back for a moment, thinking. The men were similar in many ways, though Jack's hair was more blond than sandy brown and he was much taller and thinner than Davis. It occurred to Lana that they had their bachelor status in common, as well. She'd never considered that a man who'd lost his wife, whether through death or divorce, might feel as much an outsider as she did.

Pondering this, she hoisted her writing tablet and shoulder bag and hurried to catch up. As the group moved down the sidelines and up the stairs into the bleachers, Lana occasionally heard her name in murmurs and whispers. Heat crept up the back of her neck, but she tried not to react. She'd expected gossip. This was, after all, a very small town. Everyone was fodder for gossip, especially the returned bad egg.

Suddenly, an older woman with a tight, salt-and-pepper corkscrew perm and a warm, bustling personality pushed up from a blue portable seat cushion boldly marked with a Warrior emblem.

"Lana Ross. Honey, is that you?" Clad in an oversize blue-and-gold Warriors jacket with matching earmuffs, Miss Evelyn Parsons waved a pom-pom on a stick directly at Lana. Of all the people in Whisper Falls, Miss Evelyn was one of the handful who never confused Lana with her sister. Though the twins were not identical, most folks didn't pay close enough attention to "those Ross girls" to notice the subtle differences.

"Miss Evelyn." Delighted, Lana stopped and accepted the hug, warmed by the best greeting she'd received so far. The Parsonses had always been kind, even after Tess had shoplifted from their snack shop.

"They tell me you're back and that you have the most adorable little girl." Miss Evelyn's gaze landed on the curious-faced child next to Lana. "This must be Sydney."

No surprise that Miss Evelyn, who made it her business to know everything possible about Whisper Falls and its citizens, had been informed not only of Lana's return but of her status as a parent.

"This is my darling girl." Lana touched Sydney's shoulder. "Say hello to Miss Evelyn, the matriarch of Whisper Falls. She practically runs the whole town."

"Especially me," said a portly man with white hair and handlebar mustache and a jolly chuckle. In his striped overalls and engineer's cap, Miss Evelyn's husband was a throwback to an earlier time, and he hadn't changed a bit since Lana had last seen him.

Lana smiled. "This gentleman is Uncle Digger. And before you ask, no, he's not your blood uncle."

"But he's everyone's uncle just the same," Miss Evelyn said, patting her round, Santa-looking husband on the shoulder.

Sydney smiled her shy hello at both adults. "Hi," she said in a tiny, breathy voice.

"Lana, she is a darling." Miss Evelyn beamed at Sydney. "You come by the Iron Horse sometime soon and see me, okay? Do you like ice cream?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, doesn't she have lovely manners!" Miss Evelyn wiggled the pom-pom over Sydney's head like a wand, making Sydney hunch her shoulders in a cute giggle. "I think Uncle Digger and I have a special treat with your name on it."

"Thank you, Miss Evelyn," Lana said, touched by more than the gesture to Sydney. It felt good to be greeted as an old friend. Even if she wasn't one.

Miss Evelyn winked. "You come see me, too. We'll catch up."

A male voice came over the PA then to make announcements, and Miss Evelyn shook her pom-pom again and yelled, "Go Warriors!"

Smiling, feeling positive and not really caring that others around them in the crowded stands had been watching with interest, she nodded and started the climb toward a spot in the third row where Davis and his kids had already settled with Jack.

Davis patted the space he'd saved. "Sit fast before someone grabs it."

A tap on the shoulder turned her around. She recognized the dark-skinned man immediately. "Creed Carter. Hello."

"I thought that was you, Lana. How's it going? When are we going to hear you on the radio?"

She figured she'd hear that question for a long time. "Never, I'm afraid. Nashville didn't work out."

"Their loss. Our gain." Rather than pursue the topic, he motioned to the woman and child beside him. "This is my wife, Haley, and our baby, Rose. Haley, meet Lana Ross. We attended high school together."

Easy as that, he introduced them. No references to her wilder side or any crazy stories from her past.

The two women exchanged greetings. Haley had an artsy, natural quality about her that Lana found interesting. Fair-skinned with no makeup, she wore her shoulder-length auburn hair loose with a silk flower pinned above one ear. The bouncy, apple-cheeked baby had olive skin and dark hair like her father with bright button eyes and a happy, alert expression. Lana liked them both instantly.

With an inward sigh of relief, Lana thought things were going very well. Maybe she'd misjudged Whisper Falls. Sure, a few people whispered and stared, but maybe the adjustment wouldn't be so difficult after all.

The PA announcer asked everyone to stand for the national anthem and the capacity crowd grew quiet. Ball caps were ripped from heads and held over hearts. Mothers shushed their children. Football players stood at attention, sweat already gleaming on their young faces.

Lana was always amazed at how, even in a large stadium, silence could shimmer through the autumn air like a cold front while the band played the dignified, rousing tune. As the music reached the crescendo, cymbals crashed. Goose bumps prickled Lana's arms. An undeniable longing to sing rose up to clog her throat. A longing she would never again see fulfilled.

By the end of the first quarter, Davis had memorized the main players and numbers, and he suspected Lana had too-at least on the Warriors' team. She was smart, jotting notes in her spiral notebook, noting specific plays, asking astute questions about the game as she scribbled away.

She was also smart enough to know she had drawn plenty of stares and whispers since their arrival. Only a handful of people had greeted her but plenty had stared outright as they'd passed. Maybe he was being oversensitive after Jenny's remarks, but their behavior put him on the defensive. He thought they were being ridiculous. Time passed. People changed. Get over it. Maybe they were just curious about the newcomer, the woman who'd gone to Nashville to be a star and come home again with a daughter.

Whichever, he was glad they'd sat together. She'd made him and Jack laugh more than once and she was kind to his kids-Nathan, in particular, who repeatedly found reasons to stand in front of her and ask eight-year-old questions. She'd been patient to the extreme even when she'd missed seeing a quarterback sack and worse, when she'd missed a touchdown.

"Nathan," he said. "Sit next to me." He patted the side opposite Lana.

"That's okay, Daddy. I don't mind standing up."

"You're blocking Lana's view."

Nathan flashed worried eyes to Lana. "I am?"

Lana opened her mouth to speak but appeared to reconsider before saying, "I like your company, Nathan."

"See, Daddy? Lana likes me. She's pretty. Don't you think she's pretty?"

He was not touching that with a ten-foot-pole. Instead, Davis leaned in to Lana's ear and whispered, "Pushover."

She shrugged and pulled Nathan close to her knees.

Just then, the Warriors scored on a long breakaway run and the crowd erupted. Davis leaped to his feet, anxious to get his son's attachment to Lana out of his head. This was a football game, not a date.

When the buzzer announced halftime, the score was tied fourteen to fourteen. Lana made a note in her book before turning to him. "I owe you some chili and popcorn."

"Sounds good to me. My lunch is long gone."

"You didn't have dinner?"

"Not yet." He grinned down at her, feeling that unwanted tug of attraction. He had a feeling there was a lot more to Lana Ross than her rough teenage years and a stab at stardom. The troubling thing was, he liked being around her. He liked her. Was he out of his mind?

Nathan pushed against Davis's legs, drawing his attention away from Lana and the uncomfortable thoughts. "I'm cold, Daddy."

"Want some chili?" Lana asked, smiling down at his son, who had taken Sydney's spot at Lana's side when Sydney had moved down to sit next to Paige.

"Uh-uh. Can I have hot cocoa instead?" Nathan asked, hopefully.

"Yes, you can. But aren't you hungry?"

"I don't like chili."

"Maybe a hot dog?"

"Yeah!"

Davis stooped to pull up the boy's hood and tie it under his chin. His cheeks and nose had reddened. "There's a blanket in the truck if you need it."

"I'm not a baby, Dad. I'll be okay after Lana gets me a hot dog and some cocoa." Nathan beamed a gap-toothed grin at the object of his affections, his gray eyes shining under the stadium lights. "You sure look pretty, Lana. Are you having fun with my daddy?"

Lana exchanged an amused glance with Davis. "Yes, I'm having a good time, Nathan. Your dad is a great spotter."

Nathan was right. Lana looked pretty in her skinny jeans tucked into high-heeled boots and wearing a fitted leather jacket over a white shirt, her dark hair swooped up on the sides and large hoops dangling in her ears. A cheetah print scarf cozied up against her throat.

"Yeah. He's the best daddy in the whole world. He's nice, too. Don't you think my daddy's nice?"

"Very nice," Lana obliged, tapping Nathan's upturned chin with a fingertip.

Exasperating as it was, the boy's innocent matchmaking touched Davis down deep. Nathan didn't remember Cheryl. But he apparently longed for a brown-haired woman in his life, for a mother. As hard as he'd tried to be everything to his kids, Davis couldn't be a mother.

The group tromped down the wooden stadium bleachers through the crowd of spectators and across the end zone to the concession area. The line was long and the smell of nachos and popcorn strong enough to make them worth the wait.

"I gotta go, Daddy," Nathan said, hopping up and down in the classic stance.

"I'll hold our place in line with the girls," Lana said to Davis, "if you want to go with Nathan."

"Thanks." Taking Nathan's hand, Davis made his way toward the men's room.

He returned to find the females still in line, talking to Retta Jeffers, a woman from their high school days. From the stiff set of Lana's shoulders and the red blotches on her cheeks, the conversation wasn't particularly comfortable. As he approached, Retta took her husband's arm and walked away.

Unsure of what to say, Davis looked at Lana in question. She met his gaze and then looked away.

Something was not right.

"You okay? You seem upset."

"Fine."