Ryan's Return by Barbara Freethy Page A

canoe trip on a wild, unpredictable river.
    Isabelle had promised to love him, to stand by his side for all time. He had believed her.
    She had given him two sons, and they were happy. At least he was happy. Isabelle had never quite settled into the town. There had always been a part of her that yearned for the magic of New Orleans -- the French Quarter; the jazz clubs; the stories of voodoo magic; the hot, spicy Cajun food; the whole mystical, magical life she had left behind.
    Jonas got up and walked on, trying to escape his thoughts, the way he always did. But he knew it was futile. His thoughts would be there when he returned home. Even now, after twenty-five years, his house still carried her scent. The furniture he had built for her still stood solid in the house, the oak chest at the foot of his bed where she had kept her lace shawl and the boys' first shoes and all the other silly feminine things he had had no use for but couldn't seem to throw away.
    The house reminded him of Andrew and Ryan, of the two sons he had watched grow into men, one so desperate to please him, the other so uncaring of his thoughts. After his last fight with Ryan, he had said good-bye to the angry young man and watched him leave. But he had never quite said good-bye to the Ryan in his heart.
    "Jonas."
    He looked up in surprise. A man in uniform stood in front of him, the county sheriff, Dirk Anders, a man he had grown up with, a man who loved the river almost as much as he did.
    "Dirk," he acknowledged reluctantly. Although they had been friends since childhood, Jonas had kept his distance in years past. He didn't care to be reminded of happier times when he and Isabelle had double-dated with Dirk and his wife, Susan. Susan had stood by her man as promised. Isabelle had not.
    "I'm worried about the river," Dirk said. "She's high from last week's storms. And there's more rain on the way."
    Jonas looked at the water. "She'll hold."
    "They had heavy rainfall last night in Sonoma County. The National Weather Service is predicting three to four inches by tomorrow night. We've got folks coming in from San Francisco for the celebration tonight." Dirk shook his head in dismay. "I don't know what to do."
    "Cancel the damn thing," Jonas said. He didn't like the Centennial Celebration, and now it was turning into a sideshow, bringing in developers and all kinds of people who had no business in his town.
    Just like that woman, Kara Delaney, had no business in his town. It was her fault things were changing. But then, she had bad blood. How could he expect more from a Cox? Just their name on his tongue turned his whole mouth sour.
    "I can't cancel the centennial," Dirk said.
    "Why not? You're the sheriff."
    "Everything's set. Folks are counting on a good time. And the shopkeepers are hoping for lots of business." Dirk paused. "I wish you'd stop this war you've got going with Mrs. Delaney."
    "I will not let her turn my town into a freak show."
    "She's not doing that."
    "Oh, no? She's the one who brought that Harrison Winslow to town. Did you know he's planning to put a Taco Tommy's on Main Street? We've never had fast food here." Jonas shook his head in disgust. "Next thing you know there will be a video arcade next to the church."
    Dirk sighed. "Change is coming, Jonas. It's not our turn anymore. Young Will is itching for my job. And I bet Andrew would like to take a crack at running the paper."
    "He's not ready yet."
    "Sometimes you gotta let go." Dirk picked up a pebble and tossed it into the river. They watched it skip its way downstream. "You seen Ryan yet?" Dirk asked.
    Jonas shook his head. "Nope."
    "He'll be at the dinner tonight."
    "So I hear."
    "Look, Jonas, I don't want any trouble with you. I already have my hands full with Beverly Appleborne and Margaret Woodrich."
    Jonas stared out at the water. He didn't want any trouble either, but it was hard to change the patterns of a lifetime. No doubt Ryan was itching for a fight. What was he supposed