Under a Firefly Moon

by Donna Kauffman

  “Anytime,” he said, and climbed into the passenger seat, wondering just what in the hell he thought he was doing. Not leaving Cheyenne McCafferty in my rearview mirror again, that’s what. Not yet, anyway.

  Chapter Three

  Chey drove down the dirt and gravel lane back to one of several access points to Firefly Lake. The lake was located higher up in the hills above Blue Hollow Falls and was more accessible on foot than by vehicle. This was the road in most commonly used, so she could only hope Vivi had taken the same route. She pulled into the long, narrow parking area and sighed in relief when she saw Vivi’s fully restored, cherry-red, ’56 Chevy Bel Air. It was the only car in the lot. She hadn’t seen anyone else on the way in, either.

  “That is a beauty of a car,” Wyatt said. The first words he’d spoken since they’d left the farm twenty minutes earlier.

  “Don’t tell Vivi unless you want an excruciating history of the vehicle from assembly line onward.”

  “Oh, then that’s the first thing I’ll ask her. She can tell me all about it while I drive her home.” She caught Wyatt’s fast grin from the corner of her eye, which was where she was keeping him. In her periphery.

  Yeah. And how’s that working out for you? Not great, she admitted. She’d bought the big dual-wheeled truck to haul horse trailers and had happily paid extra for the roomy, extended cab. After years living in an RV with three other people, she liked her space.

  The cab of her truck had felt the opposite of spacious from the moment Wyatt had climbed in and pulled on his seat belt. Strapped it right across his ridiculously broad chest. Which she really, really tried not to notice, but damn. The term “rawboned” had been created to describe the teenager Wyatt Reed had been. If not for the long, ropy muscles he’d developed working with the steers and bulls he and his father trained and handled for the rodeo, he’d have been skinny to the point of bony.

  Yeah, well, he ain’t bony now, Chey thought as she continued on toward the back of the lot and the narrower road that led down to the boat ramp.

  The water wasn’t visible from the parking area due to the dense pines that crowded this side of the lake. It was a surprisingly large body of water to be up in this high valley pocket. Mountain peaks fully encircled the area, and as a backdrop to the tall pines and water, made for a breathtaking view. In addition to the hikers and boaters, it was a popular spot for photographers, painters, and night-sky watchers, too.

  “Spectacular setting,” Wyatt said. “Is the lake spring fed? Small streams? Pretty good elevation for a decent-sized lake.”

  “Partly,” Chey said, keeping her gaze straight ahead as she steered around some large potholes and deep ruts that had resulted from the harsh winter. “But it’s too big for just that. There are a few smaller streams, but its main source is Firefly Creek.” It was easier talking to him about the view than delving back into their past, so she added, “Firefly runs down from the higher elevations, feeds the lake, then snakes through a few hundred acres of wilderness area and nature park that surrounds the lake, before heading down and eventually joining in with Big Stone Creek.”

  She rolled to a stop at the head of the boat ramp road and frowned. The big yellow bars were closed across it, chained and padlocked. “The two creeks combine to create the heavy flow that rushes over the big tumble of boulders next to the silk mill. That creates the waterfall that gives the town its name. From there Big Stone runs all the way down to the Hawksbill River in the valley below.” She said the last part by rote, like a guide reciting the history of the place to a tourist. “How the heck did she get a boat down there?” Chey said, giving voice to her actual thoughts.

  “Guess the ramp stays closed till summer, too, then?”

  “I guess,” she said, putting the truck into park. Other than Vivi’s car, the lot behind them was completely empty. They hadn’t passed anyone coming in, either. “I haven’t been out here since late last fall. Not sure when they close up the dock. I was on the horse trails, and they go in around the lake from a different direction.” She turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. She had one hand on the door handle.

  “Cheyenne,” he said, in that way a person did when they wanted to say something important, and her hand froze.

  He’d been the only one to call her by her full name when they were growing up. She’d always thought it sounded like she was in trouble for something, so she’d never liked it. Except when he said it. But the way he spoke her name sounded so different now. He was so different now, she supposed that was to be expected. It shouldn’t make her feel sad. She’d changed, too. She supposed that’s what happened when you grew up. Now if she could just find a way to not also feel all the very grown-up things that deep voice of his was doing to her, not to mention the sexy-as-all-get-out grin, and those big ol’ arms and chest and . . . whew. Yeah, she’d really appreciate it if he’d dial all that back. Like he could. She glanced at him. “We should go find Vivi.”

  “It’s weird,” he said, his serious expression at odds with the casual way he’d spoken.

  She dipped her chin for a brief moment, knowing she should just get out of the truck, go find Vivi. Leave Wyatt and whatever he was about to say behind. “What’s weird?” she asked, knowing she’d never truly left him behind. What made her think she could do it when he was seated not two feet away from her?

  “This,” he said, and she looked over at him.

  She let her raised brow be her reply, then instantly regretted it when he flashed that brash, yet somehow so down-to-earth grin. Where in the hell had he gotten that from, anyway? What happened to that sweet, quiet smile of his? It hadn’t been so much shy as it had been . . . pure. And definitely not packing . . . all of that. She supposed world travel had taken the quiet and pure right out of him. So why do you want to lean closer? Why are you gripping the door handle like if you let go, you might just grab him and see where that takes you? “We need to go find Vivi,” she said again, frown firmly in place, entirely self-directed, but if it got him to drop that grin, so much the better.

  She opened the door and he reached his hand out.

  “Don’t,” she said, and shifted out of reach, hating that there was a thread of something that sounded a whole lot like panic in her voice. Knowing he’d heard it, too. She didn’t panic. Not ever. Nerves of steel, that was Cheyenne McCafferty’s claim to fame. She didn’t need anything or anyone reminding her that losing her brother had also taken her edge. “I’m—sorry,” she added. “I just—” She broke off, sighed. She might have sworn under her breath as well. She wanted to tell him not to even dare think about smiling about that, either.

  Not that he’d listen to her. And he didn’t. “Remember that old mason jar we used to keep?” he asked, smiling in reminiscence. “As I recall, you used to call it the goddamn swear jar.”

  It was as close to how he’d looked and sounded as a teenager as she’d seen since his surprising arrival, and she felt a tug so hard inside her chest, she almost pressed her hand to it.

  “How much of your allowance ended up in that thing?” he said.

  She didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to be drawn back in. She wanted to get out of this truck, get out of this . . . whatever the blazes it was Tory had gotten her into without any warning, much less her permission. “A hell of a lot more than yours,” she said, then grabbed her cowboy hat from the console, and did just that.

  He met her at the front of the truck, lifting his hands to prove he wasn’t going to touch her when she stepped back. “That’s what’s weird,” he said, continuing the conversation as if she hadn’t just about leaped out of the truck to escape it.

  “That I still swear?” she said, being deliberately obtuse. “Actually, I don’t anymore. Much.” She gave him a fake sunny smile. “Must be the company.”

  “What’s weird,” he persisted, “is that on the one hand, it’s like we’re still in the same rhythm, the way we always used to be. Like minds, and all that.”

  She looke
d to the ground, but he waited her out, and she hated feeling like a coward. Then stop acting like one. She looked up, met him gaze for gaze, and wished like hell it was easier. Because it wasn’t. And it wasn’t going to be anytime soon, either. She tried to feel annoyed that he wasn’t having any such issues. He was the one who’d thrown his heart at her feet. But you threw yours right back in those letters . . . and he didn’t even bother to reply.

  And Tory wondered why she hated letter writing.

  “But it’s awkward, too,” he said, his gaze serious once more, his words quieter. “I guess there’s no way it can’t be, given . . . everything. I just wanted to say . . . I know we didn’t plan this, but I’m glad it happened. And not just to clear the air. It’s good to see you again.”

  His gaze searched hers intently, for what, she couldn’t say, but she wondered about it all the same.

  “Really good,” he added. When she didn’t say anything to that, he finally looked away. He shoved his hands in his back pockets and nodded toward the gate. “Is there another way in?”

  She shifted her gaze away from his stance, which was classic Wyatt, and fought the smile that rose to her lips without a single bit of approval from her. “No,” she said. “Not by car, anyway.”

  On the one hand, she and Tory were going to have a nice long chat about surprises and Chey’s utter lack of enthusiasm for them. Today’s stunt had only strengthened her position. On the other hand, what was done was done, and in that regard Chey agreed with Wyatt about having the chance to clear the air. As much as they could, anyway. Beyond that—well, she didn’t really want to think about anything beyond that.

  She started to walk to the back of the truck, to get the rope Wyatt had asked her to bring; then she abruptly turned back to him. And suddenly all the words burst forth, before she could stop them, much less think them through. It was just, she was tired of holding it all in. Years of holding it all in. Apparently, that wasn’t something she could do a moment longer.

  “Yes,” she said, “it’s . . . surreal. That you’re standing right here.” She looked up at him. “You’re so different now from the Wyatt I knew. We’re strangers in a lot of ways, and you even look like one, so that makes it easier. But then the old you peeks out from time to time, and it really throws me.” She paused then, to take a breath, and she had to look down, gather her thoughts, because it was too late to turn back now. “I know I’ve changed, too. I’m definitely more settled now, and I’d like to think less impulsive, more thoughtful.” The corner of her mouth curled up. “This little speech notwithstanding. I’d have said ‘less mouthy,’ but I think I’ve already given the lie to that.”

  A hint of a smile played around the corners of his mouth, but the honest affection shining in his eyes was all there, too, loud and clear. Affection for who she’d been to him in the past, of course, but still. It rocked her already shaken-up heart. Hard. “I guess I just . . . don’t know what to do with it all.”

  “Who says you have to do anything?” he asked.

  Now she dug her hands into her front pockets, studied the toes of her boots again. She wasn’t sure how to explain it to him, or if she even should. She was just having a hard time figuring out where their reunion belonged on the grand scale of, well, everything. He’d once been her everything. Her worst mistake and biggest regret had been not realizing that, not truly understanding the full meaning of who he was to her, who he could have been in her future—their future—until after he’d gone.

  Now he’d just head back out, back to whatever life he was living. And she’d keep his horse. And then they . . . what? What would they do? Keep in touch? Text? E-mail? And say what? And if they didn’t, how would that feel? Would she never see him or hear from him again? Was that what she wanted?

  “We should go get Vivi,” she repeated, because it was the only thing she could think of to say that wouldn’t make this harder than it already was.

  In response, he went and grabbed the rope from the back of the truck himself, and she led them both to a trail that wound its way down to the lake about twenty yards away. A small white gazebo was set just back in the trees, marking the trailhead for a variety of paths that converged on this spot. Inside the gazebo were benches for hikers and a big signboard that held safety and local event notices as well as a laminated map of the trails, picnic areas, and the path that led down to the boat ramp and dock. She didn’t need to look at any of them. She knew exactly where the lake was. The park had horse friendly trails and she’d trailered a few of her more easygoing mounts out here so she and her students could go on trail rides together.

  She reached the gazebo first and paused, then turned to look at him and waited for his gaze to connect to hers. “It’s good to see you, too, Wyatt.” That much, at least, was true. She might not know what would happen next, but at least now she wouldn’t have to wonder any longer what would happen if she ever saw him again. She tried not to think about what it would be like after he left. It will be like it always was, with just a little less regret on the side.

  Wyatt held her gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable now. She hated not knowing what he was thinking. She couldn’t read him the way she once did. Not when he didn’t want her to, anyway.

  He nodded but said nothing more. He motioned to the path to their left. “Does this lead to the dock?”

  She watched as he silently and swiftly tied a slipknot loop at one end of the rope. He hadn’t been a calf-roper on the circuit, but they all had rope skills. And who the heck knew what he’d learned since they’d parted ways. He hadn’t gone from Clark Kent to Superman sitting around doing nothing. “If you’re thinking you can lasso the boat or its passenger and tow them in, I hate to tell you, but I wasn’t kidding about the size of the lake.”

  “Ye of little faith,” was all he said, sending a brief flash of that new smile of his and a wink her way. He expertly coiled the rope and slung it over one shoulder, then motioned for her to lead the way and followed behind her.

  What’s with the winking? The Wyatt Reed she’d known didn’t do things like that. His quietly keen observations about people and the world around them, along with the surprising discovery of his dry sense of humor, were the qualities that had initially drawn her in. That he was also thoughtful, respectful, and kind to animals had decimated her last resistance to his quiet but repeated and determined attempts to start a conversation with her. Like Tory, only nothing at all like Tory, he’d found his way in, and he’d stuck. He’d become her best and closest friend. She’d only trusted her brother more than Wyatt.

  This guy, with his smooth wink and flashy grins, was nothing like the boy she remembered. She supposed that getting away from Zachariah, from the physical and emotional blows, the undermining of every last thing Wyatt had ever said or done, would have given anyone a new lease on life. Wyatt appeared to have taken that new lease and run with it. Hard.

  The minute Chey stepped from the wooded trail to the first overlook, Vivi started waving. Waving with her lemon-colored, tassel-edged parasol. “Oh boy,” Chey muttered, even as she lifted a hand to give a short wave in response, so Vivi would know they saw her. Like we could miss her.

  Chey could hear Vivi shouting something to them, but she was too far away to be able to make out anything of what the older woman was trying to convey. The breeze off the lake snatched most of the words away. Other than she really is up a lake without a paddle. A smile twitched the corners of Chey’s mouth. Any other time, once she’d established that Vivi was fine and unhurt, she’d have found the humor in pretty much every part of this. If she could just get the rest of herself to calm the heck down, stop reacting to every little thing Wyatt said or did—like breathing—she might have shared that comment with him.

  “The docks are down the path that way,” Chey said instead, pointing to a tree-lined path that obscured the view of the water. “The dock on this side is fairly short. The nature center staff uses it to tie up the few paddleboats they rent out on we
ekends in the summer. The canoes and johnboats are pulled up on the banks at night, but they’d all still be in storage now, I guess.” Which begged the question of just where Vivi had gotten the boat. “You’ll be at water level, but frankly, you won’t be any closer to Vivi down there since she’s all the way at this end of the lake, so I’m not sure how you—”

  She broke off as Wyatt was already loping down the path toward the dock.

  “Okay then,” Chey said, starting off down the path as well. “You do you.” She refused to run after him. Until she heard the loud splash. Then she picked up speed. The path had curved back into the trees enough that, with the new spring foliage, she’d already lost her view of Vivi. “Please just stay in the dang boat,” Chey muttered.

  She could only imagine Vivi’s reaction to seeing who’d come to her rescue. Chey didn’t even want to think about what would be involved in explaining who Wyatt was and why he was there in the first place. Vivi knew Chey as well as anyone on earth ever had. The fearsome foursome were closer than most families, tighter than sisters, despite the generational gaps in their ages. They’d shared every last thing with each other as they’d worked their way through the most difficult time they’d each ever experienced. Almost everything. Chey hadn’t told them about Wyatt. Well, Hannah knew now, but that was only because Chey had been trying to keep her from making the biggest mistake of her life.

  Hannah, Avery, and Vivienne were her family now and more important to Chey than she’d ever allowed anyone to become who wasn’t related to her by blood. Not even Tory. Anyone except for Wyatt Reed. She tried not to think about where that had gotten her. She was older now, wiser, and the three women whom she trusted with her love were the same three women Chey trusted with her very soul. They wouldn’t just ride off into the proverbial sunset with her shattered heart lying on the ground in pieces. Whose heart again, Chey? Yours? Or his?

  Ignoring that question, she picked up speed, running by the time she hit the first dock, then had to do a quick two-step around Wyatt’s boots, and his shirt, to keep from tripping over them and landing in the lake herself. Once she’d steadied herself, she looked out across the lake and saw he was already halfway to the boat.