One Perfect Year

by Melinda Curtis

  “Another two days and it’ll be yellow.”

  “Don’t say things that imply you have a wealth of experience with gigantic bruises.”

  He couldn’t look at her as he turned and stepped away. “You know, friends worry about each other. But they trust each other, too.”

  “I’m trying. Don’t push me.” She touched a scar over his biceps. “A bite?”

  He nodded. “Last spring.”

  “Ever broken a rib? Punctured a lung?” She moved back to the table, sliding her computer into her laptop bag.

  She’d left him standing like unwanted beefcake in the middle of the kitchen. He drew a shaky breath. “I’ve been spared that, thankfully. Can I put my shirt back on now?”

  She disappeared down the hall, laughter in her voice as she said, “You never had to take it off.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE NEXT MORNING, Shelby was still wondering what had come over her with Gage.

  She hadn’t been brave enough to look back into the kitchen to see if he was smiling when she’d pointed out he never had to remove his shirt. Yes, she’d wanted reassurance he was unscathed. Yes, he needed something to erase that lost look in his black eyes. But it was bold and brazen, not like her at all. She’d practically run to her room, closed the door and sat on the bed. Heart pounding. Hands shaking. Watching to see if Gage came in to...do what?

  Shake his finger at her in reprimand?

  Share a laugh about her besting him?

  Or...or...

  The word kiss floated about in her head.

  What had happened to her? How long had it been since she’d joked or flirted with a man? It seemed like forever. Shelby didn’t used to think about Gage this way.

  Well, duh. He was a man, all right. It was just that he’d been her friend long before she’d ever thought of him in romantic terms and now...When she looked at him and saw the pain in his eyes, she wanted to hug him. Which would have been fine, if she hadn’t recently noticed the perfect bow to his lips, the breadth of his solid chest or his take-charge attitude.

  When she thought about embracing him, instead of a quick, friendly hug, she imagined his strong arms around her.

  But Gage hadn’t knocked on her door or barged into her room. It was all anticlimactic.

  She gave up on sleeping in the gray light before dawn. She dug in one of her suitcases and found her running shoes. She hadn’t been running in years, but running had always cleared her head.

  Her running shorts were wrinkled. So was her red polyester exercise tank. She didn’t bother popping them in the dryer for a heated shake-out. She grabbed a neon-yellow hoodie.

  Her grandfather was sitting at the kitchen table, head resting on his hands. He started at her exclamation and jerked his head up. “What? Who? Shelby, I...” He straightened his glasses. He glanced around the kitchen as if checking to see where he was.

  Shelby hadn’t seen Grandpa so unsure since her grandmother died. She wrapped her arms around herself. “I went to bed late. What time did you get up?”

  “Three. Maybe four. I had a theory... I can’t remember it right now, but...” He rubbed at the whiskers on his chin.

  “Is this something I should be worrying about? You not sleeping. You forgetting things.” She gestured toward the living room. “You turning into a hoarder?”

  “Dogs, all mighty!” He pushed to his feet. He wore faded red flannel pajamas and a scowl. “I haven’t lost my marbles. You should be happy my brain is so active it keeps me up at night.”

  Shelby opened her mouth to argue, but realized something. “You’re right. You’re fine. Who am I to cast stones?” She drew up her hood.

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a run.” Shelby stepped out into the bracing air.

  After a few minutes of a slow pace, her muscles warmed and the nip in the air didn’t seem so bad. Fog hung low over the town, thickening the closer she came to the river. Streetlights did little to cut through the haze. She ran from one halo of light to the next.

  Rounding the corner onto Harrison, she stopped at Dream Day Bridal. Winded, she wiped away the moisture on her forehead, and stretched her hamstrings using the bench out front. Taking in the shop out of the corner of her eye, she tried to persuade herself it was just a building with a fond memory or two. Like the Chinese place where she and Nick used to order takeout in Davis. The Chinese restaurant had gone under after Nick died, replaced by a cupcake business. She’d gone in once before she’d moved to the mountains, just to see how it felt. She’d ordered a red velvet cupcake and waited for the melancholy. There’d been none. As soon as the bridal shop was transformed into a wine cellar, there’d be no residual sadness there either.

  She heard the footsteps of another runner, but with the fog so thick, she couldn’t tell which direction the person was coming from. A scuff of sneakers on pavement had her turning toward the town square. Gage emerged from the fog wearing a pair of black basketball shorts and a navy sweatshirt. He hesitated when he saw her, slowing to a halt.

  She couldn’t remember him being reluctant to approach her. Ever.

  “So this is what we’ve come to.” She leaned against the back of the wooden bench and crossed her arms over her chest. “Out-of-sync and awkward moments.”

  “And mistrust,” he added. She expected him to walk toward her, but he stayed where he was—twenty feet away in front of the sheriff’s office. “Don’t forget mistrust.”

  “Nick would be disappointed.” Her gaze fell to her toes. She’d often crumpled in the weeks after his death. This morning, her legs were sturdy, only her morale was weak. “He’d expect us to lean on each other.”

  “He might,” Gage allowed gruffly.

  Shelby pulled her gaze from the ground to study him. Pursed lips, tense jaw, distant eyes. He clammed up like that every time she brought up his two-year absence from her life. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” Something that had made him leave.

  He didn’t leap forward to share.

  Maybe if she repaired their friendship, he’d tell her. Maybe then awareness of Gage as a man would recede and things could go back to normal.

  She blew out a breath. “I should probably apologize for last night. You just seemed so defeated and I—”

  “Let’s not get maudlin. You got me.” He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket and walked toward her. He stopped near the shop window, that winning smile of his returning to his lips. “I’m wondering why you haven’t figured out how to use an iron.”

  She glanced down at her wrinkled sweatshirt. “Who irons at five in the morning?”

  He glanced down at his unwrinkled clothing. “And while we’re on the subject of domestic goddesses, I suppose you’ll be cooking again tonight.”

  “Lucky you.” How easy it was to fall into the rhythm of their familiar banter in the semidarkness. “Thrill seeker that you are, you should appreciate sitting down at the table not knowing what you’ll get.”

  His smile vanished. “I’m not an adrenaline junkie. I haven’t been snowboarding or kayaking or mountain climbing ever since...”

  “But your job—”

  “Listen, if I made a living climbing electrical poles, would you still label me a thrill seeker?” Everything about him hardened. His posture. His expression. His words. This was a Gage she didn’t know anymore.

  “No, but—”

  “Or if I worked as an engineer on an offshore oil rig?”

  “No.”

  He propped his foot on the brick sill below the shop’s framed window and stretched his hamstring. It seemed pointless to stretch since it seemed the tension hadn’t left his body. “Point made?”

  Point made? It was a phrase he’d often used when he was presenting his side of an argument. “Point made? If your po
int is that your job doesn’t make you a thrill seeker, then yes. But if you want me to believe you’ve chosen a safe specialty, then no.”

  His frown said more than his words did. It spoke of endings and loneliness. That frown tugged at her insides.

  Their friendship was irreparable. It was probably for the best. She swung her arms, preparing to jog away with what little dignity she had left when Gage said, “Did you poke a hole in that back wall?”

  “No.” She moved closer to the window, peeking inside. There was a hole the size of a bicycle tire where yesterday there’d been none.

  Gage tried the door. It opened. He entered.

  Shelby’s pulse hitched up to worry-level. She propped open the door with her hip. “Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”

  As if reading her mind, the sheriff pulled up in an older model blue truck with a gold star on the door. He rolled down the passenger window and nodded to her. “Starting early on that remodel?”

  “Nate, I’m so glad you’re here.” She glanced at Gage studying the hole that gave her a clear view of the downstairs toilet. “Did you hear anything weird last night from Mae’s shop?”

  The sheriff’s body seemed to coil as his cop sensors perked up. In no time, he was standing next to her on the sidewalk, hand on a gun holster at his belt. “I spent last night in the Bay Area at my sister’s house. Just got back. What’s wrong?”

  “I think someone broke in.” Shelby gestured to Gage, who helpfully pointed to the large hole in the wall.

  “Looks like they took all the copper pipe used in the plumbing,” Gage said.

  “Copper sells at a premium at recycle centers.” Nate examined the lock on the front door before moving inside, each step made as if he was on patrol in enemy territory, ready to turn and shoot at the slightest sound.

  It was unnerving. Gage must have been put off by it, as well. He came to stand by her side and took her hand.

  Nate finished his inspection with a single pronouncement, “Clear.”

  Shelby released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “There are so many empty buildings and houses around. I’m surprised they haven’t broken in here before.”

  Nate’s brows drew together. “They wouldn’t come all this way just to rob one store.” He strode to the vacant business next door and on down the block.

  Shelby and Gage followed. Each location had been broken into.

  On the corner, the Brown Jug’s door was slightly ajar. The pub had a long, narrow bar. Perfect for copper thieves to hide behind.

  “Stay outside.” Nate drew his gun and entered.

  Shelby was happy to oblige.

  Somewhere nearby, a vehicle started up.

  Shelby and Gage exchanged glances.

  Gage spoke first. “I can’t say for sure which street it’s coming from, but most of the shops are on—”

  “Main Street,” Shelby finished with him. “It’s very unusual that anyone would be out and about at this hour.”

  The car accelerated. They both started running toward the sound.

  With his long legs, Gage quickly passed her. Looking up rather than down, Shelby’s toe caught on an uneven slab of sidewalk and she belly flopped on the pavement. Before she had a chance to register the sting of skinned flesh, Gage helped her up.

  A late model, gray sedan squealed around the corner onto Jefferson and disappeared into the fog.

  “Did you see the license plate?” Shelby asked.

  “No. Are you okay?” Gage held out her arms, much as she’d done to him last night. He inspected her scraped hands, then knelt to look at her reddening knees. “You’re shaking.”

  She was surprised to find it was true. “My clumsiness strikes again. Don’t worry about me. Let’s find Nate.”

  Nate came sprinting up to them at full speed, carrying his handgun, pointed end down. “They took the pipe from the bar, too. I heard a car. Did you see them leave?”

  “Gray. Four door,” Gage said matter-of-factly. “On the small side. California plates. Couldn’t make out the number.”

  Nate turned to Shelby, who agreed.

  “I’ll contact the Cloverdale police. Maybe they can catch the thief before he gets on the main highway.” Nate holstered his gun, and hurried toward the jail.

  “Well, that was exciting.” Shelby was still shaking, and her palms and knees were beginning to throb. “Probably doesn’t compare to frantic mares in the throws of labor, but—”

  “It was stupid. What if the thief had a gun and decided to shoot at us? Over copper.” Gage put his arm around Shelby’s shoulders and started walking. “My knees are shaking, too.”

  She smiled because he’d known she needed physical contact. It wasn’t every day a girl ran into criminals making a getaway, rarer still in Harmony Valley. They crossed Main, but Gage stopped her from heading toward the town square and home. Instead, he drew her south.

  “Are we going to the clinic?”

  He nodded. “I bought some antiseptic yesterday. Plus I want to make sure they didn’t break in there, too.”

  “My dog.” She quickened her pace, ignoring her throbbing scrapes.

  Gage mumbled something about dogs and lost causes.

  It only took a few minutes to reach the clinic. The doors were all locked, but Gage had a key. The Saint Bernard was in his kennel in the back. He gave them a tail-wagging welcome.

  “He looks happy,” Shelby noted. The lost look had disappeared in his eyes, but was back in Gage’s.

  “Dogs have simple needs.” Gage tested the lock on the rear gate. “Food, water, a roof over their heads when it rains.”

  “Sounds good to me.” The sun was starting to come up, trying to break through the thick fog as it rose over Parish Hill, and with it she started to feel the pressure of the day’s to-do list. She was supposed to keep Mae happy. How would Mae take the news that her shop had been vandalized?

  Gage led Shelby inside the clinic. “People need more than the basics, Shel. Companionship. Friendship. Love.”

  “People need safety,” Shelby argued, albeit weakly.

  He paused at the doorway to an exam room. “More than love?”

  “It’s hard to love someone when you’re dead.” The words dropped between them like an unexpected explosion, destroying their easy camaraderie. “Skydiving, BASE jumping, big wave surfing. I could go on. You and Nick would try anything. I used to worry you’d be okay, but I was naive. I never worried either one of you would die and leave me.”

  Gage opened his mouth, closed it, tugged at his ear, then muttered, “Dead Gage.”

  He was going to hold that against her for the rest of her life. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sit there.” Gage pointed to a chair in the exam room. He produced gauze pads and antiseptic from a cupboard. “This might sting a little.”

  There were other things that stung—his abandonment, her callousness. They’d never move beyond his leaving and Dead Gage if they didn’t talk about it. “What happened to you when Nick died? Why did you leave?” Why did you leave me?

  He soaked a square of gauze in antiseptic. “I needed time to heal.”

  “We could have helped each other heal.”

  He knelt at her feet, inspected her knees, then daubed at her scrapes.

  Her indrawn breath echoed through the empty clinic.

  “Sorry. It won’t get any easier.” He moved on to her palm.

  Her hand looked small in his, smaller when she flinched. “If people need all those things you mentioned—companionship, friendship, love—why did you give up on our friendship?”

  Somewhere in the office, a clock ticked.

  “Because I felt guilty,” Gage said slowly.

  “About what?”

&nb
sp; “A lot of things.” He doused a clean piece of gauze with antiseptic.

  She tensed at the stinging. “Help me out here, Gage. Give me a hint. Was it something I said? Something someone else said?”

  “Can’t we drop this?”

  “No. There was a time you’d tell me anything.”

  “There was never a time—”

  “You’re saying our friendship wasn’t real?” She tugged her hand away. “You’re saying you didn’t tell me your private dreams when I told you mine? What was that year we spent here? A joke? That’s it, wasn’t it? I was a joke to you. You only put up with me because of Nick.”

  “For the love of Pete.” He tossed the gauze into the trash. “You push and push and...I felt guilty about Nick dying, okay? He asked me to go kayaking and I said yes. Then I was invited to watch a mare deliver at the university in Fresno. I stayed up most of the night and slept through my alarm.” Had she thought Gage didn’t care? His black eyes sparked angrily, but it was anger at himself.

  Shelby felt burned to ash, as if the weakest breeze could scatter her away.

  “I woke up thinking he’d be okay.” Gage’s voice flooded the tiny room and bounced off the walls. “I woke up and he wasn’t. He went out on the river alone. On raging rapids. Without me.” Gage twisted the cap back on the bottle of antibiotic. “He’s dead. I overslept and he died alone. Is that what you wanted to know?”

  Shelby didn’t answer. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t seem to do anything.

  Except run.

  * * *

  “DON’T GO!” GAGE stopped following Shelby when he reached the front door. Despite the sun’s rays angling through the patchy fog to the pavement, there was no warmth. Harmony Valley was cold and gray and heartbreaking. “Shelby, please.”

  “I can’t talk to you right now.” Shelby wandered the parking lot, hugging herself.

  “You wanted to know.” Gage’s entire body felt weary, as if he’d been playing football and been pounded all game.

  His pride, buoyed by logic, encouraged him to let her go. He had Kentucky.

  His heart, shackled with unrequited love for too long, encouraged him to follow her. He needed her.