by Emily Conrad
“Adeline isn’t the past. She was the start. There’s a difference.”
“Label it however you want. Just stay focused.” Tim got out and shoved the door shut.
Gannon studied the aspen and pine trees sheltering the cabin. The setting promised peace no place on earth could deliver. Tim was right. The future was on the line—his, the band’s, Adeline’s—but for any of them to move forward, he’d have to first fix what had gone wrong at the start. “Lord, give me strength.”
2
A dog person shouldn’t have this much trouble saying goodbye to a cat. Adeline held Nissa’s carrier in one hand as she opened the door to the animal shelter with the other.
Heather, one of the few paid staff members, sat behind the front desk. Her sloppy bun of red hair bobbed as she stood. “The family’s in one of the visitation rooms. Do you want to take her in?”
Adeline considered the lump in her throat and wished she could scratch the soft fur between Nissa’s ears once more. The gray and white domestic long-hair cat had won her over by greeting her at the door whenever she came in. And her rumbling purr had comforted her through the barrage of memories Gannon’s visit brought on.
But she’d had a week to put Gannon behind her again. She could cope on her own if it meant allowing Nissa to go to a great family.
“I’ll introduce her.” Maybe if she got a bad vibe, she’d put in an application to adopt Nissa herself. She could figure out the money later.
In the room Heather indicated, Adeline found a family she knew from church. Joe and Carrie Cullen sat in the plastic chairs against the wall. Their pretty seventeen-year-old, Olivia, had settled on the floor.
In a recognition ceremony for graduating high school seniors at church, Olivia had shared her plan to attend the local college while living at home, which meant she got along with her parents well enough. Adeline got along with them too. Still, if not for the way Olivia’s blue eyes widened with adoration when she spotted Nissa, Adeline might not have been able to open the latch on the carrier.
The girl sprang to her feet, pushed her long hair over her shoulders, and gently transferred Nissa’s weight to her arms. “Mom, look. She’s gorgeous!”
They would love her to pieces. Much better than Adeline ever could.
The family—Joe included—focused on Nissa, so Adeline let herself out. She paused outside the door to gulp down her rising grief.
Had Gannon left town as quietly as she’d left Nissa? Had it been harder for him, or easier? She hadn’t seen him or heard rumors about him since their encounter on Main Street. In a town this size, where no one could sneeze without everyone hearing about it, the silence meant he hadn’t been around. Good. Their relationship had resulted in heartache and nothing else.
She’d put so much time and energy into distancing herself from the past, she shouldn’t have harbored fantasies of confronting him once more. The past couldn’t be righted, and she’d spend the rest of her life paying for it, even if Gannon refused to show remorse.
She passed the desk on the way to the exit.
Heather hopped up from her chair. “What do you think of a lab mix?”
Adeline hesitated. Nissa had been a comfort. A dog would be too, depending on what his issues were. Good thing her roommate also had a soft spot for animals.
“He’s older and very mellow, but he’s stressed here.” Heather stepped from behind the desk. “He has allergies, and his meds aren’t enough to control them because of the stress of all the barking and the strange environment. He kept licking his paws. We had to put him in a cone.”
The barking got louder as Heather opened the room with the dog kennels. They stopped at the second chain-link gate, which contained a black dog with a graying face. He ambled forward, swaying as his tail whipped back and forth.
“The cone stops him from licking, but now he’s whining and barking. Poor guy is going hoarse. He needs a calm home environment.”
“I’m not home a lot during the day.”
“He’s used to owners who work.” Heather swung open the door to let Adeline greet him.
The dog sat, the cone framing his sweet face.
She squatted and pet his warm head, her fingers tapping against the plastic.
Heather crossed her arms and leaned against the kennel. “A home will do him good. We’d adopt him out straight from your house to the new owner—less stress for an old dog.”
Adeline looked into his brown eyes, which were edged with black and white lashes. A dog wouldn’t hold her past against her, even if she whispered all the secrets she couldn’t bear to tell another human. “How old is he?”
“Ten. We want to make sure his golden years are as good as they ought to be.”
“What’s his name?”
Heather chuckled. “See the bat-shaped marking on his chest?”
Adeline leaned to see under the cone. A clear white marking stretched over his breastbone, bat-like enough to make the connection. “Don’t tell me he’s Bat Dog.”
“No, but close enough. Adeline, meet Bruce.”
Gannon’s phone sounded and displayed a picture of Harper English. She was requesting a video call. He leaned his guitar against the living room couch. If he’d finally broken past his writer’s block, he’d call her back later, but all he could compose were more songs he likely could never use.
As a never-ending source of drama, Harper might spark an idea.
He pressed the icon to answer.
“Wow. A beard.” Harper giggled. “How manly.”
The week’s worth of growth itched and made him feel like a caveman, but when he went back into Lakeshore tomorrow, he’d rather not be recognized. The trip into town was to see Adeline, and the longer he prevented Harper from learning about her, the better.
He pointed the conversation to her love life instead. “Things with you and Colton back on again?”
She lifted an eyebrow and looked away from the screen. Shadows lurked on her normally even skin, one at the back corner of her jaw, another on her temple.
“Are those bruises?”
She brought her big blue eyes back to the screen. “Maybe if you called me once in a while, you’d know.”
“I’m up here to work. You know that. What happened?”
She made a face, then blew out a long breath. “Remember when you let me stay at your place?”
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “I remember last week.” He’d been in Wisconsin, and she’d had a fight with her live-in boyfriend, actor Colton Fremont. Gannon had given her access to his apartment to prevent her from wandering LA, drunk and upset. “And?”
“You were so worried what I’d do while I was drunk, you never thought to worry about me tripping down your stairs the next morning.”
“You fell?”
“Little-known fact: I’m more stable drunk than sober.”
Harper was many things, but she was never stable. Gannon kept taking her calls, trying to show her a better way.
“Did you get checked out? If I can still see the bruises a week later, that was a nasty fall.”
“This is nothing. You should’ve seen me after the skateboarding incident of ’98.”
Funny. He would’ve expected her to rush to the ER and flaunt the bruises for some sympathy from the press. She must’ve been embarrassed. “What about you and Colton?”
Her lids shaded her eyes, a frown playing at her lips in the perfect picture of sadness. “He’s in Ontario with Leigh Wiles.” She spoke as if Colton were vacationing with another woman, but Leigh and Colton were costars, in Ontario to film some dramedy.
“I take it you two didn’t make up before he left.”
“We did. But you do know how I met him.”
On set. Colton and Harper had starred in a film together last summer. “That should reassure you. You were with Eric then, and you didn’t cheat.”
She sighed and focused her too-blue eyes on the screen again. He couldn’t tell if she was looking at him or the inset of her own ima
ge. “But now Colton and I are together because we met then. What if he breaks up with me for her?”
“Have a little faith.”
She moved close to the camera, and her perfect features covered his screen. “You know I only believe what I experience for myself.”
Even that was iffy. She’d experienced plenty of problems because of her way of life, but still, she mostly disregarded Gannon’s advice and his insistence that she needed Jesus.
“Anyway, I’m bored.” On screen, the neckline of Harper’s shirt shifted, exposing a bra strap. “I should come visit.”
And play her games in person? No, thanks. She didn’t need to show extra skin for him—or anyone else—to think her beautiful, but he’d seen how fast things went south when he disobeyed God in his relationships.
Never again.
“If you’re going to get on a plane, use it to visit Colton.”
“We could have a good time, you and I.”
Exactly the kind of good time Tim wanted him to have. When would these two understand he wanted to honor God—and that was the only way to happiness? But they hadn’t lived his life. They didn’t know how wrong things could go when a human chose his own path.
He could explain that the only woman he could think about was Harper’s opposite, a woman with long mahogany hair, cinnamon eyes, and a proven desire to repel rather than attract his attention. But Harper wouldn’t let competition go unchallenged, so he kept his mouth shut. “I’m trying to work here. Call Colton.”
Adeline’s one-and-three-quarter-story farmhouse stood a block off Main Street, tucked in among Victorians with pristine paint and gardens flowing with petunias. A misfit, her house featured chipping light blue paint and a weathered, sloping front porch. She’d planted a few tulips and daffodils, but now in July, her yard had reverted to a plain square of thin grass.
She parked in the gravel drive and gripped Bruce’s nylon leash. “Home sweet home.”
The dog thumped his tail twice and hopped out after her. She retrieved the dog food the shelter had provided, and Bruce followed her across the grass and up the creaking stairs, sniffing the whole way.
On the porch, she turned toward the view. Because of the slope of the land, she could see over the single-story pottery studio across the street to the lake four blocks away. This portion of Superior usually took on the sky’s blue or gray instead of the emeralds and teals that glistened along some of the beaches. Today, a mostly sunny sky resulted in glittering, medium blue. No matter the color, the water exuded an unparalleled calm. If she couldn’t count on anything else, at least Superior would always be there.
Bruce finished investigating the porch and looked to her for direction. Such an angel. She opened the screen door and led him through the living room and into the kitchen, which hadn’t seen many updates in the last thirty or forty years. Still, the space was comfortable. Hers. Home.
Her roommate sat at the table with a cup of coffee and her laptop. Though Adeline had never been to California to see if the stereotype held true, she’d always thought Tegan looked like a surfer girl—blonde, athletic, and tanner than anyone else in Lakeshore.
Tegan set her mug down without peeling her attention from her screen. “Next time I’m considering teaching summer school, remind me—”
Bruce’s nails clicked on the vinyl.
At the noise, Tegan abandoned her train of thought and laughed. “Who’s this?” Within seconds, she was on her knees, scrubbing her fingers through a happy Bruce’s fur.
Adeline relayed the story as she set down the dog food and sorted the mail. A couple of statements. Some ads. One envelope from the Downtown Lakeshore Neighborhood Association. She tore the association’s letter open while Tegan dug out the water bowl they’d used last time the shelter had sent a dog home with her.
Tegan set the bowl in a corner for Bruce, chatting easily, but Adeline couldn’t focus on responses when she read the first line of the letter.
Her gut churned like the time she’d been pulled over on Main Street. She’d known the siding and porch needed attention. She hadn’t realized anyone else would care. If she’d known, she’d have found a way to repair them. Somehow.
Tegan sidled up beside her. “What’s that?”
Adeline swallowed. “The neighborhood association has rules about curb appeal.”
“Oh.” Tegan’s gaze roved over the interior of the house.
Adeline didn’t have to look around to visualize it. The rest of the downstairs had refinished hardwood and new carpet, but she hadn’t updated the kitchen. The vinyl was scuffed and yellowed. The plaster had cracked in a few places throughout the house, though she had at least applied fresh paint.
But the letter wasn’t about the interior. The neighborhood association only cared about the aging exterior. “They’re giving me ninety days to do something about the porch and the siding.”
“Or what?”
“Fines.” Big fines. Fines that got more severe the longer it took her to get the property up to standard.
“Can they do that?”
Adeline passed off the paper. Somehow, the fines—though they’d be problematic if they were levied—didn’t bother her as much as being called out for not being up to snuff. She was doing the best she could.
If only her best had ever been enough.
“There’s a statute or something meant to make Lakeshore appeal to tourists.”
And tourists did love Lakeshore. The bed-and-breakfasts and shops, like the pottery studio across the street, were peppered in among the homes and enjoyed bustling business from spring through autumn. In winter, deep snow and cold kept most visitors away, but some more adventurous types came for snowmobiling, ice caves, and cross-country skiing. Vacationers funded a significant portion of the town’s economy.
And someone thought her house had become an eyesore to those all-important tourists.
How mortifying.
Tegan studied the letter while Adeline crouched to pet Bruce. The place did need improvements—more, even, than the letter required. A troubling water spot appeared on the ceiling of one of the upstairs bedrooms after rainstorms. One of the basement walls had cracked and shifted an inch. She would’ve done the repairs years ago, but working for Superior Dogs and as a secretary for the church left her living paycheck to paycheck.
“You really ought to charge me more for rent.”
Adeline shook her head. Though the money did matter, the friendship had become more important. A teacher two years out of college, Tegan wasn’t exactly making bank either.
“There’s an opening for a career services coordinator at the college.” The first time Tegan mentioned the position, Adeline had thought she’d done so to help lighten the workload for her friend who worked in the department. But as Tegan resorted to more of a sales pitch, Adeline realized she was the one Tegan wanted to assist. “You’d be advising students, and you’d even have a staff—a few students part-time, but still.”
Adeline pressed her lips together. She wasn’t about to turn her life on its head because of a one-time problem like the letter from the neighborhood association. “I don’t have experience.”
“You have a four-year degree in communications. Between that and working with people at church, I’m sure you have the background you’d need, and the pay is good. Plus, you’d help the students. You always have good advice for me.”
“I like my jobs. Superior Dogs is just plain fun, and the church is important work.” Besides, she could make a couple of thousand dollars another way.
Bruce licked her cheek, and she hugged him to her side as she drew a deep breath. “I’ll sell my upright bass.”
Even the warmth of Bruce nudging his head into her neck didn’t ease the ache at the idea of parting with the instrument. She’d unloaded her electric bass guitar years ago because it prompted too many memories of her time as a member of a pre-fame Awestruck. However, she’d kept the classic double bass she’d learned to play in orchestra cl
ass, hoping the guilt over her mistakes with Gannon and Fitz would subside enough to allow her to return to playing for church, if nothing else. Eight years later, the thought of making her hope a reality twisted a knife of shame in her chest.
“Do you think a bass will cover all this work?”
“A nice upright bass is expensive. Besides, it needs regular service to stay in working order, so selling it will save money.”
“Oh. Okay.” Tegan slid the letter onto the table. “I always thought the bass was special to you, like you inherited it or something.”
Tegan thought the bass was an heirloom? In a way, maybe. Both the bass and her connection with Gannon were an inheritance from her former self that she couldn’t afford to keep, no matter what her feelings told her.
3
The last character of the Hebrew verse on Gannon’s forearm was visible if someone looked for it, but his button-down covered the other ink that might give away his identity. He cleaned a pair of non-prescription glasses with the hem of his shirt before sliding them on.
Tim, who’d added a tie to his usual dress shirt, seemed intent on fitting in at the small church, even if his silence served as a complaint about giving up his Sunday morning for something he didn’t believe in.
They mounted the stairs to the door, and Gannon reached for the handle. “You don’t have to come.”
Tim grunted and shadowed him into the building. He considered knowing the band’s secrets part of his job. Since Gannon still hadn’t told him more about Adeline, his manager was sticking close, probably hoping to piece it together.
At least this meant Tim would overhear a sermon.
The service already in motion, Gannon snagged a seat in the back without turning heads. He’d lost Tim somewhere along the way, probably in the tiny lobby.
Vestibule. The word hadn’t crossed his mind in ages, but a room that smelled like a one-hundred-year-old hymnal deserved the name.
Musicians took the stage to lead worship—three singers, a flutist, and a violinist. No Adeline. This was the only church in town that lined up with the beliefs they’d shared as teens. If she was present, why wasn’t she on stage too? Back in the day, she’d been as passionate about bass as he’d been about guitar.