Enright Family Collection (51 page)

BROWN-EYED GIRL
PRICELESS
VOICES CARRY
CAROLINA MIST

Also be sure to read Mariah Stewart’s short
fiction in the suspenseful anthology

WAIT UNTIL DARK

All available from Pocket Books
and Pocket Star Books

PRAISE FOR
DEVLIN’S LIGHT

“Mariah Stewart leaps to the top with a work that will appeal to her myriad of fans as well as the audiences of Belva Plain, Barbara Taylor Bradford, and Anne Rivers Siddons.
Devlin’s Light
has a luminance that leaves most other works pale in comparison.”

—Harriet Klausner, Painted
Rock.com

“With her special brand of rich emotional content and compelling drama, Mariah Stewart is certain to delight readers everywhere.”

—Jill M. Smith,
Romantic Times

“Devlin’s Light
is a must-read for you that like the romantic suspense of a Nora Roberts story, or the surprising twists and turns of a Mary Higgins Clark yarn. Mariah Stewart sated my appetite for a great read. . . .”

—Betty Cox, America Online

“A haunting tale of suspense and sensual delight.”

—
BarnesandNoble.com

“[A] magnificent story of mystery, love and an enchanting town. Splendid.”

—Bell, Book & Candle

CAROLINA MIST

“A wonderful, tender novel with romance of a period past and love with a little mystery and adventure woven in.”

—
Rendezvous

“Contemporary romance lovers will find a lot to appreciate in this new offering from Mariah Stewart. All the good stuff is here. . . .”

—Cathy Sova,
Romantic Reader Web-Site

“An inspiring tale of love, life and friendship that will live on in readers’ hearts long after the last word is read. Make sure you have plenty of time when you pick this one up because you will not want to put it down. . . .”

—Gina Gomez, America Online Romance Review Bulletin Board

“An entertaining read. . . . As with Mariah Stewart’s other books, atmosphere abounds. . . .”

—Annette Carney,
The Literary Times

“First-rate. . . . Mariah Stewart provides her fans with an extremely interesting novel.”

—Harriet Klausner,
Affaire de Coeur

“As she has proved in the past, talented author Mariah Stewart excels at creating emotionally complex novels that are sure to touch your heart.”

—Jill M. Smith,
Romantic Times

“Ms. Stewart has written a touching and compassionate story of life and love that wrapped around me like a cozy quilt”

—Tanzey Cutter,
Old Book Barn Gazette

A DIFFERENT LIGHT

“Engrossing from beginning to end! A wonderful story. . . . Compelling, touching and romantic!”

—Kristina Wright,
The Literary Times

“An excellent read.”

—
Rendezvous

“A book of personal growth and triumph. . . . Terrific.”

—
The Paperback Forum

“Warm, compassionate, and fulfilling. Great reading.”

—Jill M. Smith,
Romantic Times

MOMENTS IN TIME

“A sensational debut. . . . [An] unforgettable first contemporary release. . . . A truly engrossing read.”

—Jill M. Smith,
Romantic Times

“Cleverly and excellently done—Ms. Stewart is an author to watch. Her star is on the rise.”

—
Rendezvous

“I loved it! A powerhouse of a book. I couldn’t put it down.”

—Gail Link, author of
Encantadora
and
Forsaking All Others

“A fast-paced, page-turning tale of love’s discoveries, trials and triumphs.”

—Kasey Michaels, author of
The Promise

Books by Mariah Stewart

Moments in Time

A Different Light

Carolina Mist

Devlin’s Light

Wonderful You

Moon Dance

Priceless

Brown-Eyed Girl

Voices Carry

Published by POCKET BOOKS

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An
Original
Publication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1998 by Marti Robb

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN -13: 978-0-671-00416-3
ISBN -10: 0-671-00416-6
eISBN -13: 978-1-4516-5211-6

First Pocket Books printing July 1998

10   9   8   7   6   5

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Cover art by Franco Accornero

Printed in the U.S.A.

To Mom and Dad,
with love and thanks

Grateful acknowledgments to—

Kathy Levine, the
true
diva of the shopping networks, with thanks for sharing her time and her humor, and for giving me a glimpse behind the scenes.

Loretta Barrett, my agent, who always believes and always encourages.

Kate Collins, for grace under pressure (and a special welcome to Connor and Declan!).

And to Lauren McKenna, who kept it all together.

Prologue
 

A discordant sound from somewhere in the big, rambling house rattled the silence that wrapped around the sleeping child like a Band-Aid and shook her forcefully from her slumber. Pulling the covers up over her head to shield her from any stray Night Things that might be lurking about, she opened one eye to sneak a drowsy peek, just to make certain that nothing of questionable intent had, as yet, invaded the sanctuary of her room.

All appeared well.

A slow sigh of relief hissed from between her lips and she slowly inched the blanket away from her face. Drawing confidence from that small but brave act, she sat up quietly and leaned her back against the tall, carved wooden headboard, careful, for all her bravado, not to make the bed squeak and perhaps invite attention to herself. Not that
she
believed in Night Things. Her little sister did, but of course, her sister was only eight and
she
was almost eleven.

A sudden, nameless
thud
from the front of the house sent her scurrying back under the sheltering wing of her blankets, where she huddled in the cavelike warmth for a
long moment, holding her breath to quiet herself as she strained to acclimate her ears to the sounds the house made at night.

Cautiously she slid to the edge of the bed until her head and shoulders hung over the side.

From somewhere in the night she heard voices.

She forced herself to remain there, suspended between the floor and the side of the bed, between fear and curiosity.

Curiosity, as always, won out.

Easing herself onto her feet without making a sound, she picked careful steps across the thickly carpeted floor, her feet making shallow wells in the deep blue wool pile. A deliberate finger bravely poked the bedroom door aside and she peered into the hallway, hoping neither to startle nor be startled. A glance up the long corridor to her right assured her that the door to her sister’s room was closed. Employing great stealth, she crept into the hall, her destination the balcony that overlooked the dimly lit foyer below, from which the faint sound of muffled voices could be heard.

Someone was downstairs with her mother.

She paused at her brother’s bedroom door, briefly considering whether to wake him. Her brother always treated her like a baby, even though he was only three and a half years older than she was. If she woke him up, he would think it was because she was afraid. Taking a deep breath, she crept past his door and continued alone down the hall.

Once at the railing she lowered herself onto the floor—oh so quietly—and leaned slightly into the space between the balusters, seeking the best view of the scene below.

Her mother, wrapped in her dark green chenille bathrobe, stood facing a white-haired man in a dark overcoat. Between them stood the boy, who was facing her mother, and it was to him that she spoke, her low voice but a whisper in the night. The girl wished she could hear what was being said.

No one looked happy, least of all the boy.

As her mother spoke, she brushed the hair back from his face with both hands, but he appeared to be looking not at her, but rather at the floor of black and white checkered marble. The man never spoke at all.

Finally the boy nodded, just the tiniest tilt of his head, and as her mother walked toward the study, the grandfather clock chimed a rude and sudden four bells. Trying to follow the drama and caught up in it, the girl leaned a bit too far to the left and banged her forehead on the wooden railing. The soft
bump
echoed, floating downward like carelessly tossed confetti through the darkness to the foyer below. The man and the boy both looked upward with eyes that seemed to tell the same story from vastly different points of view. The eyes of the boy burned dark and fierce, while the eyes of the old man held little else but sorrow. Both of them, she would someday realize, had appeared equally lost.

Her mother returned with the boy’s jacket and held it open to him, helping him to ease arms heavy with reluctance into the sleeves. She hugged him then, holding him only long enough not to cause him embarrassment. The boy was almost as tall as her mother and the girl wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.

She froze at the sound approaching from behind, a soft footfall on the plump carpet. Light fingers touched her shoulder to reassure. Without turning around, she knew that her brother, too, had felt rather than heard the disturbance. Together they watched, in silence, as the drama below played out.

Finally, her brother pointed at the old man in the foyer and whispered,
“That’s
his grandfather. He’s taking him back.”

The girl bit her lip. As if she didn’t know who the man in the dark raincoat was. “He doesn’t want to go, Nicky. He wants to stay here. Can’t we do something?”

“Mom said Ben belonged with his grandfather, Zoey. It’s what his mother wanted.”

“I wish she hadn’t died, Nicky. I wish everything
could be just the way it was.” The girl’s bottom lip began to quiver in earnest. Her hero was leaving, and there was nothing she could do about it.

A nod from her mother seemed to imply a hesitant consent, and the man opened the front door. Before the girl could so much as blink, the man and the boy had disappeared. Her mother stood alone in the open doorway, wrapping her arms around herself against the chill of the night air, and there she remained long after the sound of tires crunching on stone had ceased.