by Leah Atwood
“I can’t picture you as a hard-nosed attorney.” She gave him an appraising stare. “You’re so laid-back and calm.”
“Somewhere along the way, I think I fell into the trap of believing success had to come with prestige and money. I was driven, so winning cases became a high.”
“And you walked away from all that?”
“Yes,” he said, more curtly than he meant.
“That took a lot of faith.”
“Yes and all I knew was that Jasper Lake called me home. Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing from here, but I’ve been praying for direction.”
“Seems we're both at a crossroads in life.” Amie turned her head toward the lake. “Do you remember this spot?”
He scouted the area they were in, then sucked in a breath, held it before exhaling. “This is where we broke up.”
“A lifetime ago, wasn’t it?” Crossing her arms, she hugged herself.
“Yet, there are times it’s like it all just happened yesterday.” He rested his eyes on the dock where they’d sat, their feet flirting with the water.
“We had a good run.”
The sadness he detected in her voice made him want to bring back a smile to her tone. “Want to sit for old time’s sake?”
“If you promise not to break up with me again.” She gave him a subtle wink.
“Since we’re not dating, I think I’m safe promising that.” He tugged her sleeve and nodded toward the dock. “Come on.”
They each removed their shoes without consulting each other, a fact he wondered if Amie caught onto. Lowering himself to a sitting position, he observed the stars in the sky. Thousands upon thousands that aren’t visible in the city. He instinctively held out a hand to help Amie sit. She kept a distance of a foot between them.
She tilted her head to the sky, drew in a long breath. “There is nothing like fresh mountain air.”
Drew took a deep breath of his own. “I’d have to agree.”
“Charlotte’s only a few hours from the mountains. Sometimes when I’d feel overwhelmed or needed to be refreshed, I’d drive out and rent a cabin for a weekend.”
“What’s your life like in the South?” He leaned back, using his arms to prop his body. “What’s grown-up Amie like?”
“I stay busy with my career.”
“Which is?” It struck him as odd that he still had a connection with her, but knew so little about her.
“A corporate trainer. I work at the headquarters of a national retail company creating the training material for all new employees, from part-time help through regional managers.” She dipped a foot into the lake and kicked a spray of water. “When a new location opens, I go and help them get set up, and when there are any new hires for district managers and above, they spend a week with me in Charlotte before taking over their position.”
He crooked his head and looked at her. “I can easily picture you in that role. You always enjoyed helping people and did so with patience.”
“I love my job.” A serene smiled rested on her face. “Over the years, I’ve had a chance to meet a lot of people, and although I often work with the same material, the variance in people keeps it interesting.”
“How did you meet your fiancé?”
“Ex-fiancé.” She laughed a dry and humorless sound. “He was a teacher’s assistant for my dad in grad school. We were total opposites, but somehow we worked. Or so I thought.”
“Any other serious boyfriends before him?” As soon as the question was out, he regretted asking. It wasn’t his business, and he didn’t care for the irrational jealous pangs that zinged him when she talked about Tim.
“A few, but none got close to marriage.” She gave him a pointed look. “What about you?”
Whoosh. The air left his lungs. He couldn’t tell her his story, not after what he’d just learned. But what did he tell her? “One long-term relationship but nothing came of it. School kept me too busy to date.”
She brought one foot out of the water and tucked it under her other leg. “Do you ever think about what would have happened if we hadn’t broken up that summer?”
Surprised she’d gone there, he sat up straight. “Sometimes. I don’t believe in asking what-ifs, but it doesn’t stop the mind from wandering.”
“I know what you mean. My summers spent here were as idyllic as any summer could have been for a child. That last summer between you and me, it could have been straight out of a coming-of-age novel.”
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I never thought of it in those terms.”
“Oh come on.” A melodious laugh rang from her lips. “Think about it. Girl visits family for summer every year. The girl befriends a girl down the street, falls in love with that girl’s brother. They finally date. Boy breaks girl’s heart before leaving college. And then they go their separate ways.”
“When you put it like that, I guess it does.” The full extent of her words hit him. “You loved me?”
The sun had nearly disappeared, but he could still make out the blush on her face, even though she ducked to hide the pink tint. “Wasn’t it obvious?”
“You never told me.”
“Because I knew your level of affection didn’t reach mine.” She looked at him with steady eyes, her composure regained. “What does it matter now?”
“You think I didn’t love you? I thought it was obvious.”
Her look of incredulity must have matched the one on his face. “How was I supposed to know if you never told me?”
“I could ask the same.” He flashed a teasing grin to let her know he was partially teasing.
“Everyone knows the girl isn’t supposed to say it first.”
“Typical high school mentality. Did you read that in a magazine?”
“We were in high school,” she shot back, before taking a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“As much as I cared for you, I didn’t see how our relationship would work beyond August.” He sighed. “I thought by not telling you, it would make our inevitable split easier.”
“There was nothing easy about it, Drew.” She pivoted to face him completely and sat cross-legged. “Yes, we mutually agreed to go our separate ways, but it tore me apart. I moved on, but . . . you never forget your first love.”
“No, you don’t,” he whispered, fisting his hands to prevent them from reaching out and touching a wisp of her hair.
Chapter Seven
“Step right up, win a rose for the lady.” A carnival worker held out a tattered softball. “Three tries for only five dollars.”
“No, thank you.” Drew lifted a hand to stop the sales pitch.
Amie couldn’t resist a jab. “Afraid you’ll lose?”
“No, but it’s a gimmick. The games are rigged so that only a certain percentage can win.”
Raising a brow, Amie gave him a disparaging sigh. “You sound like the stiff, big city lawyer. The Drew I knew wouldn’t hesitate to give it a try.”
He scowled, but with a huff withdrew a bill from his pocket. “Give me the ball.”
The carny grabbed the money and handed over the ball. “Knock all the milk jugs down, win a rose. Knock them down three times in a row, you win your choice of the stuffed animals on the wall.”
Amie watched with amusement. She hadn’t been to a carnival in years and hadn’t attended the season-opening one in Jasper Lake since she was fourteen years old. She’d forgotten how much fun they were. So when Aunt Sally left, Amie decided to stay and walk home. Meeting Drew fifteen minutes later had been sheer coincidence.
Since their walk around the lake a week ago they hadn’t spoken in person, only exchanged a few generic text messages. In the half hour they’d been walking around the carnival, neither mentioned the conversation they’d had on the dock, and she was okay with that. They’d had an intimate conversation, cleared the air between them. With that done, she felt comfortable around him, like she’d regained a friend.
Her attention shi
fted back to the game. She’d missed Drew’s first try, but knew without looking at the milk jugs that he hadn’t succeeded because the man behind the booth taunted him.
Drew made a show of winding his arm, preparing for the pitch. He swung his arm backward, propelled it forward, and released the ball. It hit the second row of jugs, knocking down three of the six needed. He turned and gave her an undeniable I-told-you-so look.
She simply shrugged and smiled. “You have one try left.”
He rolled his eye and took the ball a third time. His face transformed into a fierce, determined expression. Narrowed eyes, tense mouth, dogged eyes. He trained his focus on the object of the game, making several small motions with the ball in his hands as if studying angles. His arm came back, then swung forward, releasing the ball to propel toward the target.
“Folks, we have a winner,” the man shouted into his megaphone. He set the speaker down and lifted a white painter’s bucket full of roses in assorted colors. “Pick a rose for the lady.”
Drew darted a smug smile her way and nodded to the flowers. “Your choice.”
She chose a flower that was the color of sunshine. Yellow for friendship. “Thank you.”
All around them, neon lights flashed, beckoning carnival-goers to a wide variety of activity. The sounds of adrenaline squeals from people on the rides mixed with bells and sirens announcing winners of any number of games. Families passed, some pushing strollers with babies and children too young to walk. Teens hovered in groups near the concession stands.
Sweet and savory scents mixed in the air, bringing a rumbling to Amie’s stomach. “Cotton candy or fresh cut fries?”
“I’d opt for funnel cake,” Drew answered without missing a beat.
“Get all three and share?”
“You beat me to the idea.” He glanced toward the rides behind them. “You don’t plan on going on any, do you?”
“My stomach’s not a teenager anymore. Even on empty, I don’t think I could handle most of them anymore.”
“Then let’s go pig out on food instead...”
She looked at the long lines. “Divide and conquer or stick together?”
“Stay together. It’ll take longer, but it’s more fun that way.” He leaned in to whisper, an unnecessary action since the volume of the area would preclude any bystander from hearing. “Besides, I saw Janine Fulbright earlier. The last thing I need is her spotting me alone.”
“Janine Fulbright?” The name didn’t ring any bells.
“A young widow who set her claws in me the moment she found out I’m a lawyer. She’s lived here about five years and tracks me down every single time I’m home.”
“No interest in her?”
He stopped just short of rolling her eyes. “Is liver-flavored ice cream a culinary delight?”
She gagged at the unpalatable suggestion. “That’s disgusting.”
“She might be a nice lady underneath the façade, but it’s also obvious she’s after a certain type of man.”
“Jasper Lake is the wrong place to be then.”
“Wealthy vacationers? I don’t know.” Drew stepped forward to claim a spot in the funnel-cake line.
“Does that really happen?” Silently, she counted the number of people ahead of them, an old habit.
“What?”
“Women chasing you for no other reason than your career?”
“Not chasing so much as latching on once they find out.” He leaned in with a conspiring wink. “Want to know a secret? The life isn’t nearly as glamourous as some want to believe.”
“I’m sure some people would beg to differ.”
“Then they can put in the sixteen-hour days and never know who to trust.”
The undisguised bitterness in his tone caught her off guard. What had happened to put it there? She didn’t ask, sensing it was best to change topics. “There’s fourteen people ahead of us. The French fry line only has six.”
Drew’s smile returned. “How many waiting for cotton candy?”
“The line is too unorganized for an accurate count.”
“At least this one is moving fast.” On cue, they moved up two spots.
Her stomach growled again. “The food is the best part of a carnival. I’ll probably gain five pounds, but it will be worth it.”
“Don’t you know what happens at the carnival stays at the carnival, including everything you eat? You can indulge all you want and not gain an ounce—it’s magic.”
“Is that a fact?”
Grinning, he nodded. “An unmitigated one at that.”
“Hmm. Don’t be offended if I don’t test your fact.”
He laughed. “Probably a wise idea.”
A few minutes later she had a warm funnel cake in hand. She broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth, savoring the fried dough and powdered sugar. “This is delicious.”
Drew grabbed the plate and tore a piece. “I’m a traditionalist with them. Just powdered sugar, no fruit toppings or whipped cream.”
“I don’t know,” she said, ripping more of the funnel cake. “It’s amazing either way.”
By the time they finished the sweet dessert and ate their fries with malt vinegar, they changed their mind about the cotton candy.
Amie put a hand to her mouth to cover her yawn. “It’s been a long day. Before we came, Aunt Sally and I spent the afternoon in the garden.”
“It is getting late.” He looked at his watch. “Ten o’clock. They’ll be shutting down soon.”
“All good things must come to an end.”
“How are you getting home?”
“Walking.”
“Want a ride?” Worry creased his forehead. “That’s a long walk with all the traffic leaving.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He crossed his arms, giving her a look which dared her to walk home alone.
She amended her reply. “But since you’re offering, I’ll accept.” Who was she to deny herself more time with Drew? She enjoyed his company more than she cared to admit.
A victory smiled appeared. “Good.”
Carrying the rose in one hand, she strolled beside Drew to the empty field which had become a temporary parking lot.
He stopped in front of an old pickup truck and opened the door. “Your chariot awaits.”
Not the vehicle she imagined him driving, but it suited him. She vaguely remembered seeing it parked in the driveway. “Thank you.”
Neither spoke during the short drive to Aunt Sally’s. Amie hadn’t thought about Tim once that night but this time when she realized it, she felt none of the sadness and forlornness of the past month.
Healing snuck up on her, and much of that was due to Jasper Lake. For more than one reason.
Chapter Eight
Drew held out his phone, in disbelief of what he’d been asked. He brought it back to speak into the mic. “I’m not coming back, Grant.”
“Look, I get you needed some time away. It happens to the best of us, and considering what happened, I don’t blame you for getting away, but it’s time to come back to work.”
He drew a deep breath before replying to his boss. “I gave my notice, not a time-off request. I’m done.”
“You're emotional, not a good quality in an attorney.” Grant’s voice wore thin.
“Insults won’t make a difference.”
“Who insulted whom?” Grant growled. “Let’s cut to the chase. What will it take to bring you back?”
“Showing your weakness at the beginning of negotiations?” He tsked, taunting his former boss. “Someone isn’t following their own advice.”
“You’re on thin ice, Sullivan. Drop the ball now and your career is over. I’ll personally see to it that you’re blacklisted from every worthwhile firm in the state.”
Drew kept his cool. Grant could make all the threats he wanted, but most of them were smoke—just blowing in the wind. Several of the firm’s competitors had courted Drew in the month before he left, and would off
er him a position in a heartbeat, if for no other reason than to be a thorn in Grant’s side. “Do you have anything else to discuss? Otherwise, I have plans.”
“I’ll make it worth your time to return, but I won’t beg. You have my number.” The call ended abruptly when Grant disconnected.
Drew fought the urge to throw his phone. A month into his departure, he had to intention of moving back to Manhattan. Hearing Grant’s domineering voice sent chills down his spine. He’d lost all respect for his former boss and wouldn’t work for him again even if it meant going without a job.
The conversation cast a shadow over his pleasant morning. He’d worked outside staining the deck and enjoyed the manual labor. Since he’d moved home, he hadn’t gone to a gym once, but got his exercise from hard work and outdoor activity—a refreshing change.
He could go for a hike to Rodham Peak. After the call from his former boss he needed to burn energy, but he wasn’t in a mood to be alone. He wanted to spend time with Amie, but they’d hung out last night, had dinner and watched a movie. If he weren't careful, he’d easily fall for her again.
After Manhattan, Amie was the innocence he missed, the genuineness he needed. Her unassuming nature renewed his faith in the human population, yet also nagged at his conscience. He should have reciprocated her trust with the past— now it might be too late. Only if our relationship develops beyond friendship.
The possibility existed. He knew it. She knew it. Neither discussed it.
Both of their present situations would make it nearly impossible, but almost a decade later, the attraction returned, strong as ever. They complemented each other, brought out the best of each other’s personality. In their maturity, they’d learned to be honest—with the exception of his previous relationship. She didn’t want pineapple on their pizza, he didn’t want ham. How many Hawaiian pizzas had they are over the years with neither one enjoying the toppings?
He crossed his arms and twisted his lips. Why not call her? She had less than two months left in Jasper Lake, and they should make the most of what time they had. And who else could he ask? Dena and Clint both were at work, and he’d not reconnected with any other old friends yet. Most of his free time had been spent with Amie.