by Shannyn Leah
It never worked.
Riley had perfected ignoring people, but unlike the rest of the town, who took his silence as an indicator he wasn’t a conversationalist, Abby pursued a useless banter with him at every opportunity. Her high spirits were exasperating on a regular day, but right now he wished she would spark to life.
When nothing registered with her, he shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. She might need to hear that she wasn’t to blame for Grace’s death, but to tell her now would be a waste of breath. She needed to get out of the cold and be cleaned up.
He wasn’t the person to do it.
Leaving her, but not wanting to, Riley ran across the yard and into the bakery. He found Mrs. C at the counter chatting with a customer. She was a chatterbox, but not a gossiper. There was a distinct difference.
When Mrs. C looked up, she must have caught his distressed expression and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
Before Riley spoke, he glanced at the woman she was talking to, noticing similarities in the russet color of her eyes. He couldn’t be sure who she was, but he had the distinct feeling this was the McAdams eldest missing twin sister. He didn’t know for sure and wasn’t asking, so he took Mrs. C’s arm and whispered Abby’s situation for her ears only.
“I will stay here,” he offered when he finished.
“What’s going on?” the woman from the opposite side of the counter demanded, with a bit of Abby sauciness in her tone.
Nosy, just like the rest of the town.
“Did something happen to Abby?”
Mrs. C was pulling her apron off and said, “Come on Kate. I’ll explain on the way.” Mrs. C’s quick introduction confirmed this was Kate McAdams.
Riley watched them go, staring at the door for a long time afterwards feeling a mixture of emotions he didn’t appreciate.
On one hand it was good that Abby’s oldest sister was here. He’d learned from Mrs. C that Kate had raised the McAdams siblings after their mother died. Maybe Abby would open up to her and Kate could clarify that Abby wasn’t responsible for Grace’s death.
On the other hand, deep down, Riley wanted to be racing out the door and making sure Abby was alright.
Mixed emotions he didn’t appreciate and would work all damn afternoon to extinguish.
Chapter Three
IT WAS THREE in the morning again when Abby’s eyes opened. She couldn’t sleep.
Walking around Gran’s house soon became creeping when she found the living room couch was occupied by one of her sisters. She didn’t investigate which one was stretched out under one of Gran’s quilts, but instead made coffee and headed back to her bedroom.
As she passed Gran’s door, she stopped to touch the hardwood. Gran would have been awake at this crazy hour. She was always awake early.
Abby almost grinned at the irony that this was the only time she had been awake at this hour and Gran was nowhere to be found.
Nowhere wasn’t entirely true. Abby knew exactly where Gran was. Unfortunately no one would be at the funeral home this early.
At six, when Abby could no longer sit, she pulled a pair of black tights over the wrapped bandages on her legs and a long chiffon blouse that touched her knees.
What would life be without Gran? A life alone. She remembered this life.
Abby walked through the streets of the town blanketed in darkness until she reached her destination. The windows were black and only a flood light shining against the sign on the front lawn welcomed her to Shelby’s Funeral Home.
The stairs looked like the best place to sit and wait.
For how long?
It didn’t matter, Gran wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet anyway.
Abby rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, staring down the winding driveway lined with large mature trees that shadowed the old cemetery on the property next door.
This cemetery had been Willow Valley’s “hot spot” as a teenager, when the young foolish adolescents looking for a little scare would gather in hopes of a ghost glance. Foolish was right and ridiculous because who believed in ghosts?
From the shadows a dark figure emerged.
A ghost?
Abby almost grinned. Almost.
But when she realized it wasn’t the funeral director like she was hoping, a sinking feeling settled back in the pit of her stomach.
The man walked a familiar, slow way, portraying a bad attitude. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his denim pants, creasing his leather jacket. She knew who he was even before she saw the wind whipping his long hair across his hard features.
Did this guy ever smile?
If he did, she had never seen it.
When Riley got close enough she asked, “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer right away. He never did. His replies were delayed and he pondered his answers like he had to make sure he revealed as little about himself as possible. He was hiding something. She knew it. On an ordinary day her mind would love to ponder about what he was hiding.
Was he running from the law? Had he been in jail before coming to Willow Valley? Was he really the badass she was certain...and loved the idea that he was?
She knew for certain that Riley was the mysterious man living above Mrs. Calvert’s bakery and didn’t have a single friend. Who didn’t have even one friend? Especially in a town like Willow Valley, where it was hard not to run into the same people before eventually becoming, at the least, acquaintances.
Today, waiting for Mr. Shelby and sitting in the cold morning darkness, she didn’t want to analyze his secretive ways.
Finally he said, “I was going to ask you the same question.”
What a lot of pondering for such an elusive answer. How annoying.
Abby turned away without answering the obvious question.
He stepped up the stairs and found a spot beside her. She felt herself becoming even more annoyed.
Why was it when all she wanted was to be left alone, everyone was trying to find her?
The heat from his body warmed her side, even though they weren’t touching. Why couldn’t this have occurred a week ago when she would have gladly taken advantage of the closeness and wiggled beside him, loving that he had sought her out.
They sat in silence for a long time, before he said, “I was outside and I saw you leave your house.” His voice was low, as usual, but the silence around them amplified it.
“So you followed me?” she accused.
Secretly, she was beginning to enjoy his silent company. Silence was what she craved. Not a million questions and sympathy...just silence.
A pause then he said, “Yes.”
Creepy.
She secretly liked that too. Later she would dive into the possibilities of why he was awake so early and outside and possessed such skills as tracking.
Silence again.
The sun rose and cast morning colors through the branches of the leafless trees.
A new day.
And as the new day began, without Gran, a blue Escape drove up the driveway and parked in front of them.
Mr. Shelby, dressed in a dark suit covered by an unbuttoned trench coat climbed out, retrieving a briefcase from the seat beside him. The tie around his neck whipped in the wind and Abby couldn’t help but glance up at Riley, remembering the way the wind caught his long hair.
Mr. Shelby stopped at the bottom of the stairs and smiled down at Abby, one of those sympathetic smiles she detested. “Abby, how can I help you?”
Abby stood and suddenly felt underdressed. She hadn’t even taken the time to brush her hair. Her anxious fingers raked through her tangled blonde waves. A mess.
Riley’s warm hand wrapped around hers and guided it back to her side, finishing with a supportive squeeze.
Abby looked down at their hands. Her hand squeezed so firmly that the color drained from her fingers.
Surprised by his kindness, she looked up to Riley, half expecting it n
ot to be him.
Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe Riley had made a friend. He just showed it differently than everyone else.
Abby let go of her hesitation and found her conviction, found her voice, found herself.
Mr. Shelby waited patiently.
“Can I see her?” Abby asked.
He nodded. “Visitations are at two and seven. Your sisters will be arriving an hour early and you should definitely−”
She cut him off. “Can I see her now?”
Mr. Shelby’s sympathetic corresponded with those of the ambulance crew, the nurses and doctors at the hospital and the passing people on the streets...everyone.
“Please.”
Mr. Shelby nodded, capturing Abby’s free arm to lead her towards the front door. She caught the look he cast in Riley’s direction as they passed. A look she was accustomed to receiving, the look of distrust.
As her hand parted from Riley’s she turned her head and caught his waiting eyes. He was watching her without the look everyone else gave her.
“Will you wait?” she asked.
There was a second of hesitation, to be expected, before he nodded.
Abby smiled.
A first smile on a new day. Gran would have considered that a positive and whipped up another pie for luck. Abby just hoped she could make it through the day.
ABBY WASN’T SURE HOW long she stayed beside Gran, touching her ice cold hands and running the tips of her fingers across Gran’s jeweled rings. At times she was stumped for words, while other times unable to pause for a breath.
When she finally stood up, Abby didn’t know if she’d found her peace with Gran. She imagined Gran was reunited with Abby’s mother and hopefully the longing pain Gran had carried in this life was lifted. It only half helped Abby accept her death...no, not even half.
Abby sighed on her way toward the front door.
Mr. Shelby was nowhere to be seen. She caught a glimpse of her tear-stained face and red-swelled eyes in a mirror above a side table.
Such a strange place to have a mirror. In a location unmissed and in a place where tears were a regular fixture.
She winced as the sun brightly greeted her.
It took a minute to adjust from the dim house, but when her eyes did, Abby saw Riley emerge from his black car.
He stayed.
Riley waited for her behind his open door. His eyes were hidden behind a reflective pair of aviators.
She stopped at the hood of his car. “Thanks for waiting,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
She looked over the old black car that he only drove in the snowy months when he couldn’t get around on his motorcycle.
“Is this an offer to take me anywhere I desire?” she asked, half joking.
He surprised her by saying, “If you want.”
Anywhere? She wanted to be anywhere except Willow Valley.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay.”
Abby climbed into the passenger’s side sinking into the old material covered seats.
“Where to?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Anywhere but here. “I don’t know.”
He put the car into gear. “It just so happens that I am very familiar with this I don’t know place you speak of.”
Riley turned the music up loud enough to drown out some of the thoughts in her head.
She leaned further back in the seat and watched the passing houses as they drove out of town.
Chapter Four
ABBY’S SISTERS WERE going ballistic when she returned from her morning, which had turned into afternoon and then into evening, spent with Riley. Every minute had been amazing.
When she walked through the front door of Gran’s cottage she was bombarded with questions of her recent whereabouts and was sent disappointed looks. She’d not only missed the meeting the day before, but now also the visitation.
Clearly her sisters didn’t know her very well, because there was no way in hell she was standing in a stuffy room with Gran’s coffin with the whole town to having a giant pity party. They should have been thanking her for not showing up and telling each person that said, “I’m sorry for your loss” exactly what she thought back to them.
Kate decided that Abby was not leaving her side until after the funeral the next day.
Abby had other plans.
She might have let Kate drag her to The Caliendo Resort, convinced that Abby was going to spend the night in her hotel suite, but Abby wasn’t a push over. Since telling Kate she would rather stay at home hadn’t worked, Abby decided to create a situation where Kate’s desire to maintain her reputation would outweigh her fight with Abby.
Abby called in the big guns. AKA Izzy Caliendo and coincidentally during their attempt to elude Kate they ran into Marc Caliendo, Izzy’s brother and Kate’s ex-boyfriend. It was like Gran was watching over Abby and threw the duo together knowing Marc’s presence would steal some−but not all−of Kate’s concentration.
Less than an hour later, Abby was back where she wanted to be: Gran’s house. Alone.
She stepped out of the cab, after discovering Izzy had paid her fare, and stood still listening to the tires sloshing away down the wet street.
Her eyes moved over the quaint house like she’d never seen it before. Its appearance had cottage appeal, perfect for the tourist town. Gran had maintained, the now dead and wet, gardens in front of the white veranda. Empty flowerboxes hung off the railing that Gran would have filled with branches and ribbon for the upcoming holiday month. But now, they were empty. Empty like the house inside.
Her stomach plummeted as the smell of baking invited her home to the loneliness that would now be her life. Baking and old lady perfume.
Old lady perfume.
Abby smiled. As much of a smile that her lips would allow.
She raided the cupboards for Gran’s hidden alcohol stash and was quickly disappointed finding only half-empty bottles. Her sisters must have dipped into the liquor last night. If Abby had known she would have stopped by the liquor store on the way home. But the alcohol was squirreled away out of sight and away from their father, a recovering alcoholic. No one wanted to see him dive back into the bottle that destroyed so many of his lost years.
Abby, however, was ready to dive in and forget her current pain.
Just like your dad did when your mom died.
Abby ignored all the warning signals that she was following in his footsteps and took her pain-busting liquid to the back deck.
The cold evening seeped through her clothes giving her goose bumps. She ignored them.
Sinking into the cushion on the porch swing, she twisted the lid off the only hard alcohol she could find. She flipped the lid off her thumb and watched it disappear into the darkness of the backyard. She wasn’t going to be needing that.
Swigging large mouthfuls of the stinging liquid, she welcomed the warmth progressing through her body suppressing the anguished feelings on the way down.
THE WIND TORE THROUGH Riley’s clothes as he rapidly increased the speed of his motorcycle down the dirt road outside of town.
He had this road memorized. He didn’t stop or yield for the stop signs, noting no oncoming cars every quarter mile road. It was easy at night. If he saw no headlights then he pressed the gas instead of the brakes. The faster he rode, the closer he was. To what? To ending what he didn’t deserve...life.
What was he still doing here when Grace, a lady who people adored, had died? Abby’s loss edged him on today, instead of his own loss, his daughter. Why did a selfish man like him get to live when his innocent newborn had died?
There was one road, the last road before the highway to town that was lined so thick with trees that even in the night he couldn’t see if there was oncoming traffic.
His speed increased and his heart rate pumped him full of bravery−or stupidity−to drive straight through that stop sign, wanting there to be oncoming traffic and ta
ke his life. A life he didn’t deserve.
Unfortunately, the loss of his daughter had grown him a conscious...for the first time in his life. He wouldn’t put others in danger, not again.
Before the road, he slammed the breaks on, skidding to a stop, spinning his tires and sliding his bike sideways. The whole rush made him wish he’d lose control and flip the bike. He didn’t.
He did this every night. How had he not hit a patch of loose dirt or ended with a fatality? Why was he still alive?
For a long time, he stood balancing his bike and assessing the reasons that he was still alive. As usual, nothing made sense and no questions were answered. He was just a jackass standing in the middle of nowhere.
When Riley parked his motorcycle behind the bakery, and sat there for over fifteen minutes he considered adding “stalker” to his jackass title.
Abby was swinging on the back deck of Grace’s house with what appeared to be a bottle of whisky or vodka as her companion.
What was she doing out here at this time of night drinking alone?
It was cold and late.
When they’d parted ways around dinner time, Abby had seemed better than that morning. She had seemed more at peace with herself in a way Riley would never know, but now...
Riley left his helmet on the handle of his bike and for the second time in two days, against his better judgement, he unlatched the gate.
The closer he got to Abby the worse the picture seemed. There was no way he could turn around now.
Abby was drunk.
He would have considered the possibility that she was just hanging out on the back porch with a casual drink, but she was underdressed again in nothing more than pants and a thin, long sleeved jersey shirt. It hung so low down one arm it was useless protection against the frigid air. That was his indicator that she was way past the point of a casual drink.
Damn her. What the hell was she trying to do? Freeze herself to death? Why hadn’t he thought of this method?
Riley wasn’t guarded from Abby’s past like she was to his. He overheard conversations between Grace and Mrs. C about Abby’s wild ways before Riley moved into town...not that Abby was shy about mentioning them herself. Neither was she shy about letting it known that she still frequented the local bar and the tourist men it collected.