Ian looked like his father. He fit into this family. But as kind and generous as they were, she was still an outsider. She should have been used to it by now, but the sting was fresh today.

  This family knew how to make quick work of clean-up and dishes. Dusty, Joe and Tyler scraped and stacked all the plates and carried them to the kitchen. The twins handled leftovers, and then Liz and Colette loaded the dishwasher and hand-washed what didn’t fit. Kendra dried and stacked bowls and pans, and Avery put them away. Chloe and Crosby’s girlfriend had gone outside with Ian and the brothers to set up games.

  “Tyler will get out the ice cream freezers, and later we’ll have homemade ice cream,” Liz told Kendra. “Let’s leave the rest.”

  Kyle came for the bags of trash and carried them out. “Thank you, Kiley-boy,” Liz said and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “You’re welcome, Grams.”

  These people didn’t mess around with Sunday afternoon festivities. There were two inclined boards with holes cut in them and painted scores assigned for points. Steph explained the game was called cornhole. Colette divided everyone into teams and the teams took turns throwing beanbags at the holes. Playing was more fun than Kendra had expected, and the good-natured competition kept her laughing.

  Each time she looked at Dusty, she experienced different feelings than when she’d interacted with Ian. She didn’t much like herself for how she felt. Kendra didn’t want to forgive him. But she had to. For her own health and peace of mind. In order to move on.

  She’d believed she was moving on. She’d moved on all the way to Denver. She’d challenged herself and developed a career. She could go right now and find a spot in any dance company she chose. She had the freedom to achieve the things she wouldn’t have accomplished if she’d married Dusty, settled down in Spencer, and had a couple of kids.

  But that hadn’t been moving on. She’d been running. Evading. She’d always known that truth, but it was more obvious than ever today.

  How did a person forgive? Was there a method—a rule? A book? Probably a hundred. She wished she could talk to Aunt Sophie. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the advice her aunt would have for her. Sophie had been kind and generous, but practical and no nonsense. She’d never wasted a second of her life feeling sorry for herself. Is that what she’d been doing? Feeling sorry for herself? She hadn’t thought so.

  Maybe she was just angry. Righteously angry. She had a right to feel that. She had a right to her feelings, whatever they were. They were real to her.

  Someone bumped into her from the back, and she turned as Dusty steadied her. “Sorry.”

  “My fault,” she replied. “I was daydreaming.”

  Her arms felt slender and toned under Dusty’s gentle hold. She smelled like blooming lilacs on a summer breeze, and he released her quickly, though she hadn’t pulled away. “Daydreaming is dangerous in this crowd.”

  “I remember that now.”

  He loved her voice. Steph handed Kendra a stack of beanbags, and she stood with her toes on the chalk line in the grass and aimed the first one at the board. He wasn’t watching the bags land; he was watching her. She must have scored big points, because her team cheered.

  He’d believed this was where she should have been all along, right here, part of his family. But truthfully, he’d always had reservations about holding her back. Maybe he’d unconsciously sabotaged their relationship because he hadn’t wanted to stand in the way of her career. He’d gone to a conference in Philadelphia once, scheduled while her troupe was performing at the Kimmel Center on Broad Street. He’d purchased tickets ahead of time, because admittedly, he followed her career.

  It seemed foolish now, but he’d taken great care with his shirt and tie, wearing his best suit, getting his hair to look just so. As though she was going to see him, when he would be only one in an ocean of faces. As though it mattered how he looked when he saw her. He’d actually been nervous to see her perform.

  She’d been stunning. He’d watched with his heart in his throat, amazed, enthralled, in love. Sometimes while he fell asleep at night, he thought of her dancing. Sometimes he dreamed of it. And occasionally in those dreams, all the others faded away and she did see him—she came to him. Sometimes they were lying in the tall grass near her boat dock, and he was holding her in his arms. In other dreams they sat on the porch swing he’d hung when he’d bought the house that he and Ian lived in. She leaned against his chest and the scent of her hair, the softness of her body resting against his was so real, he got tears in his eyes when he woke alone.

  She was perfect. Beautiful, talented, smart…. But she couldn’t stand the sight of him. He didn’t blame her. He’d had to move on. He’d taken responsibility for his child, and he wasn’t sorry about that. Ian brought him joy and filled his life immeasurably.

  Being Ian’s dad felt like being rich when another person was struggling to make ends meet. Like having an abundance of food when another was going hungry. Ian was his biologically, legally, in every way, but still—today—Dusty struggled with feeling like a thief. Being Ian’s father meant he’d taken something from Kendra.

  He couldn’t change anything. And he wouldn’t if he could. He loved his son with a fierce protectiveness. His life was right here in Spencer. His world revolved around his boy, his family, his job. Regrets were a waste of time.

  Kendra was watching with a tender smile as Avery handed Ian beanbags and the boy tossed them underhanded toward the holes. Ian’s cousin coached him to take his time and cheered him on. Dusty worked to interpret the expression on Kendra’s face, not seeing resentment or anger…seeing instead something akin to yearning.

  He held a fist over his heart, wondering how he would feel if she’d had a child that wasn’t his. How he would feel someday when that undoubtedly happened. All those experiences would be uniquely hers and he’d have no part in them. He’d be an observer.

  Beneath his fist, his heart forgot to skip a beat.

  That was how she felt. They’d planned a life together. There’d been no roadmap for life apart. Each of them was navigating their separate destination without GPS. He understood.

  Dusty reached for her arm again, this time to gain her attention. His fingers rested on her warm skin only a moment before she turned and lifted her smoky gray gaze to his, a question in their depths. Words stalled in his chest.

  “It’s your turn, Dusty,” Joe called, but right then Joe’s phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket and answered it.

  “I’m staying,” Chloe said, with a roll of her eyes. “Aunt Colette, can I go home with you guys?”

  “What’s she talking about?” Kendra asked.

  “When Joe’s phone rings on Sunday, it means he has to answer a call,” Dusty replied.

  “Oh, sure. He’s the sheriff.”

  “Chloe,” Joe began.

  “I’m going home with Avery. Aunt Colette said it was okay.”

  He nodded, then glanced at Kendra.

  “I’ll run Kendra home,” Dusty said from beside her. He didn’t look at her.

  “Great.” Joe gave his mother and grandmother each a peck on the cheek and headed for his vehicle.

  Dusty checked on the ice cream freezers with Tyler and, with Ian at his side, went to the kitchen for a couple stacks of plastic bowls and spoons.

  Folding chairs had been lined up around a firepit, and as the sun went down and the air cooled, the twins built a fire, and the family migrated to sit near it. Ian and Avery carried bowls of ice cream until everyone had one. Kendra sat between Chloe and Avery and appeared amused by the teenagers’ conversation.

  “It almost feels like she’s never been gone, doesn’t it?” his mother observed from beside Dusty.

  “Almost.”

  “Have the two of you talked?” she asked. “I mean actually talked…about what happened and how you both feel about it?”

  He shook his head. A minute later, he added, “Jonas Finch found her ring in the lake.”

  “Her engagement ring? But how?”

  He shook his head. “Found it cleaning a bunch of seaweed off his prop.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “I don’t know. But he gave it to her, and she tried to give it back to me. It was the same ring.”

  She glanced over at him. “You didn’t take it.”

  “I wouldn’t take it the day she threw it in the lake. I don’t want it now.”

  “You love her.”

  “Never stopped.”

  “She belongs here. She belongs with you.”

  He shook his head. “She has a career. She’s an amazing dancer, Mom. She could be performing anywhere right now. I mean it. She’s that good.”

  “But she isn’t performing elsewhere. She’s in Spencer. She’s here.”

  “She likes to teach at Holling. She loves our family.”

  “I have eyes, Dustin. She loves you.”

  Kendra glanced their way just then, caught him looking at her, and raised her chin in the merest acknowledgement. “Did Joe really have a call?” Dusty asked.

  “You give me far too much credit. Of course, he did.” His mother got up and gathered bowls from those who had finished eating.

  The sun had slipped behind the mountains, but it wasn’t yet dark. Dusty checked his watch and called Ian. “Time to go!”

  Ian gave all his aunts, uncles Tyler and Crosby, and all of his cousins hugs before heading for the truck. Kendra had finished helping clear away dishes and chairs and said her goodbyes. She carried her empty basket.

  “Those were delicious,” he told her, nodding to the empty container.

  “Aunt Sophie’s recipe.” She opened the passenger door and climbed up to the seat, arranging her dress over her legs.

  Ian was already in the backseat. “We have one quick stop to make, and then we’ll head for your place.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  Ian spoke from behind them. “Grams is gonna give me Grampa’s fishing hat and one of his fishing poles. I’m gonna catch even more fishes then! We hafta dig some big fat worms, huh, Dad?”

  “You bet we will,” Dusty replied, used to the constant chatter.

  “Someday maybe we can get a boat and fish like Jonas and Harm.”

  “Maybe we can.”

  “Can we get a boat, Dad?”

  “Boats take a lot of work, and you have to have a place to store ‘em,” he answered. “There are the rentals on the west side, though. We could do that like we did last time.”

  “What’s a rental?”

  “You pay to use a boat for a few hours.”

  “Oh. That’s how we got the boat b’fore, huh?” Silence, as though the boy was thinking that over.

  “I have a boat you can use.”

  Dusty looked over at Kendra then. She was watching the street ahead.

  “You have a boat?” Ian squeaked from the back seat. “Dad, Kendra has a boat an’ she says we can take it fishin’ in the lake! This is the best!”

  “That’s generous of you,” Dusty said, carefully. The runabout had been her aunt’s and obviously meant a lot to her. “Are you sure?”

  “I only use it a couple of times a week. You might as well enjoy it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can we take it fishin’ next Saturday?” Ian asked.

  “You certainly may,” she replied. “If it’s okay with your dad,” she added quickly.

  “It’s good with me.” Dusty took a route through Spencer, around Brook Park, and drove west on Forest Lake Drive, past the high school and the ball fields. Kendra sat up straighter, and he sensed her tension.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Dropping Ian off to spend a few hours with his other grandmother. She doesn’t work on Sunday evenings.”

  Kendra’s stomach had plummeted as soon as she’d seen the road they were taking, the familiar landmarks and signs. Timberline Outfitters, eleven miles. Matt Chandler’s place. The Aspen Gold Lodge, thirteen miles.

  “His other grandmother’s?” she managed to say around a knot in her throat.

  Dusty nodded.

  “He goes to her house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Grandma Lacey has Legos and little cars and stuff. We play with ‘em,” Ian said.

  Kendra felt as though she was going to throw up. Ian spent time with Lacey Price. “I’m not getting out of this truck.”

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll just run Ian in and be right back. He stays a few hours and I go get him later.”

  Her entire body tensed with dread at being here and with concern for the child. Dusty’s child, she reminded herself. She had no say in what he did. She pursed her lips and sat rigidly as they passed along the tree-lined street she hadn’t seen in years and parked at the end of the driveway.

  Her senses were numb, but she made herself look at the house. It had been painted white, and the overgrown spiraea bushes she remembered around the front steps and porch were no longer there. Cement planter boxes sat on either side of the porch steps, but they were empty.

  Dusty opened his door, and then the rear door, and helped Ian to the ground. Taking him by the hand, he led him toward the house. The front door opened, and Lacey Price came out to meet them, waving a little, smiling. She wore slim jeans and a tank top, and her blond hair was pulled back on both sides, revealing dangling earrings. She looked the same, but older. Still thin, still wearing clothes appropriate for someone twenty years younger.

  She didn’t look toward the truck, only leaned forward to wrap an arm around Ian’s shoulder. She straightened and looked at Dusty as he spoke to her, nodded and opened the door to lead the boy into the house. Dusty went inside with them and didn’t come back out for a few minutes. Kendra watched the door close and took a deep breath to quell the uneasiness in her stomach. Okay, at least he was in there checking out the place.

  The door opened again, and he emerged. Dusty glanced at her as he returned and climbed into the driver’s seat. He’d left the engine running, so he backed the truck onto the street.

  She tried to bite back her words, but restraint was hopeless. “I can’t believe you leave him there.”

  “She asked to see him when he was a baby, and we tried a few ways of making it happen. When he was small, she came to see him at our place. He likes her.”

  “He’s five and a half. He’d like Ted Bundy.”

  “She’s his grandmother, not a serial killer. I wouldn’t leave him there if I didn’t believe he’s safe. We have rules. The are no men there while he visits. No drinking. I go in and look around. It’s clean. He’s safe.”

  They rode in silence until reaching the highway that lead to her side of the lake.

  “Does she see him?”

  He knew who she meant. Her sister. “No. She has no interest.” He slowed around a curve. “I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “Lacey goes out of her way to make time to spend with him. She buys things for him to play with.”

  She couldn’t even conceive of it. Nothing in her experience gave her a mental image of her mother taking time to show interest in a child. Lacey’d never had time for her own daughters, never made time. Kendra didn’t believe the woman could just change and now be happy to have a grandkid around.

  Kendra considered her vehement reaction and reasoned with herself. Was she jealous because Lacey had never shown the least interest in her, but bought Legos and played with Erica’s child?

  She caught her runaway thoughts and dialed them back. Kendra had never learned when to cut and run. She just kept coming back for more. Her anger dissipated, and she leaned back against the seat, tired now. Exhausted from this day. She, who could train and repetitively execute minute choreography for hours on end until her feet bled, who could do two performances a day for a week, she was exhausted after Sunday dinner and a few games. It was the emotional toll; she recognized that. It was this man. His family. His son. She wanted to lie down and be enveloped by the nothingness of sleep. She closed her eyes.

  And behind her eyelids immediately saw Ian with her mother. She covered her face with her hands.

  “Are you all right?”

  She lowered her hands and opened her eyes, the lush bristlecone pines along the side of the road a blur of shadowed greens now that darkness was falling. “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t think you’re fine.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I think I do.”

  “Well, you don’t.”

  He turned into her drive and slowed to a stop. For the first time, the sight of the home that had always been her refuge failed to buoy her spirits.

  Dusty didn’t turn off the engine, but he asked, “Can we talk?”

  Finally, she turned and looked at him. Took a good long look. He shared handsomeness with the other Cavanaugh men, but he had fair hair while the rest were dark-haired. His skin tanned easily, however, she remembered from their summers at the lake. She’d become burnt even with sunscreen and a long-sleeved shirt, while he’d unfairly tanned. He was not quite as tall as Joe, but still reached six foot in stocking feet. He was leaner than his older two brothers, but with corded muscle in all the right places.

  He had feathery pale lines at the corners of his eyes, and a small scar near his eyebrow she didn’t remember. His lips were nicely shaped, full, and his cheeks held creases that deepened when he smiled. He wasn’t smiling now.

  Thinking about reaching over and tracing those creases, touching that scar with a fingertip created a flutter in her chest. They had once been that familiar with each other. They’d been comfortable with closeness, intimacy, private smiles…dreams.

  She wanted to feel like that again. She wanted to love like that again. She craved a gentle caress…being held….

  He was waiting for an answer.

  She held onto the basket in her lap. “We’ve talked enough for today.”

  “Soon then?” he asked.

  “I need a little space.”

  “Okay.” He turned off the engine, got out of the truck and came around to help her down. Always a gentleman.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21