One Perfect Year

by Melinda Curtis

  Shelby covered her mouth with her hand because her grandfather was speechless and blushing. That never happened.

  Gage chuckled. And Shelby wanted to laugh along with him, but she couldn’t. It should have been Nick chuckling next to her. It should have been Nick. And she should have felt anger at Gage. Why didn’t she feel anger?

  Because...because...

  Everything over the past few days tumbled together—her awareness of Gage as a man, her feeling happy and comforted when he was around, her fear that he’d be hurt by a horse. She was afraid of what it might mean. She had to go.

  Shelby stood and dug in her purse for her keys. Between the bright colors, the gossip, Gage, and this crazy rejectable idea, she needed air. “Come on, Mae. Your taxi is leaving.”

  “I’m staying. I want to hear all the gossip.” Mae looked around the room happily. “Don’t worry. I’ll defend your innocence, Shelby.”

  “My innocence doesn’t need defending, but you do need a ride home.” Shelby was all too aware of everyone’s gaze upon her, most especially Gage’s. “Please, Mae. Let’s go.”

  Mae shooed her off. “Agnes can drive me home. Despite the idiocy of the crowd, it’s the most exciting thing to happen in town since Will proposed to Emma at the spring festival. I can’t miss this.”

  Agnes nodded absently, listening to Mona Kincaid present her theory of an alien invasion.

  Gage stood when Shelby did. “I’ll walk you out.”

  He wanted to talk. Shelby wasn’t ready. She had to sort out her feelings. About him, about Nick.

  She turned and rushed out. He was right behind her.

  Shelby fiddled with her keys when she reached the sidewalk, forcing herself to look Gage in the eyes. “You were right not to tell me two years ago. I would have hated you.”

  He flinched. “I’ll understand if you never want to see me again.” He’d understand, but the pain in his eyes said how hurt he’d be.

  A part of her wanted to take Gage up on the offer. A larger, stronger part of her rebelled. This was Gage. Nothing was simple where he was concerned.

  His cell phone rang. It was a welcome distraction. “Excuse me. I need to take this.” He answered his phone and his eyes lit up at whatever was said by the caller. “You think she’ll deliver tonight? Sure, I can be there.”

  Worry knotted in her stomach. Shelby clenched her keys and waited for Gage to disconnect. She wanted to say, “Don’t go.” Instead, she told him to be careful. The distance between them was clear, as if he was Dead Gage once more.

  “I’m always careful.” He flashed his trademark smile. False, flawed, phony. He was infuriatingly glib when what she wanted was reassurance that he’d be alive in the morning. She took a breath, tried holding her fears at bay. “Careful? That nasty bruise on your back tells another story.”

  The charmer’s smile faded. “And what does the scar on my temple tell you?”

  “That you care,” she begrudgingly admitted. She needed to get back to work and find that emotional space she’d been in before he’d shown up again. If they hadn’t reconnected, she wouldn’t have discovered her feelings were still vested in someone who might get hurt going about his daily business.

  As his friend, she had no right to ask him not to go.

  Foolishly, she said, “Don’t do this.”

  He affectionately stroked her cheek. “It’s who I am. I can’t give up what I love, Shel.”

  She wanted to turn into his touch, to clasp his hand in both of hers and keep him here where it was safe, but there was the way he let Nick down on that fateful day. She turned toward her SUV.

  “Don’t wait up,” he called after her.

  They both knew she would.

  * * *

  “IS THAT YOU, HOTSHOT?”

  Shelby paused as she entered her grandfather’s house after work. Once more, she’d used the front door instead of the kitchen one. But it was a good thing she had. Grandpa had gone deep into the stacks again. “Let me help you out of there.”

  Something fell at his feet. He bent over.

  “I’ll get that,” she said, moving quickly between the piles.

  “Got it.” Grandpa stood up in that wobbly manner of his, steadying himself with a hand on the mantle. “Don’t block the aisle. I’m coming out.”

  She backed up. Everywhere Shelby turned lately there was someone to fret over. That wasn’t true. It was mostly Gage she worried about. Gage who occupied her thoughts. His strength, his compassion, his fondness for her grandfather. It all resonated with her.

  “I hope that worry in your voice isn’t for me. I told you I’m not packing my library away. No need. I’m as solid as a rock.” His rolling steps and a slight stumble contradicted his words. He picked his way carefully through the stacks. Three steps. Two. One.

  She drew him into her arms, hugging that sweet old ornery bag of bones as if she’d nearly lost him.

  “What’s this?” His voice rumbled in her ear. “Has something happened to that giant dog of yours?”

  She released him and stepped back. “Is Gage here yet?” It was nearly nine.

  “No. And you shouldn’t be spending time worrying about him either. He’s a professional.”

  “I’m not worried about Gage.”

  Both his white brows shot upward.

  She held on to the fib as long as she could. “Okay, I am worried about Gage and you.”

  Grandpa patted the top of her head, just like he used to when she was a little girl and she’d caught her skirt on a fence rail or tangled a brush in her hair. “He’ll be fine, hotshot.”

  “He’ll be fine until the day he’s not. That’s how it was with Nick.” Inevitably, he’d blink. “Have you eaten?”

  “Yes, but if you’re cooking, I’m more than happy to eat again.” He winked.

  “I love the way you lie to me.”

  Chuckling, her grandfather clasped her hand and allowed her to lead him to the kitchen. “It’s not lying. I was married once. I know how this works. You make an effort and I be appreciative.”

  Once he was settled in a chair, Shelby took bacon and eggs out of the refrigerator. How could she screw up breakfast for dinner? Rather than go to the stove, she sat next to Grandpa at the table.

  “Whatever’s bothering you,” he said quietly, “you can tell me.”

  And so, she did. She relayed why Gage disappeared two years ago. She admitted how hurt she was, and how sad she felt for Gage. “I want to forgive him, but part of me can’t.”

  Grandpa held her hand through her entire speech. Those frail, age-spotted hands gave her comfort. “I need to tell you something, something your mother should have told you a long time ago.”

  Shelby summoned what strength she could and waited.

  “You know your mother never lets a challenge pass her by. When she was a girl, she was the fiercest competitor in town. Checkers, softball, swimming, holding her breath. She hated losing.” He shook his grizzled head. “Nowadays, she uses that determination on her career.” He fell silent, as if lost in thought.

  Shelby squeezed his hand.

  “Your grandmother and I wanted a houseful of kids. But it wasn’t meant to be. We were lucky to have your mother. When she and your father came home for a visit one winter and told us they were pregnant, we were ecstatic. Our first grandchild.”

  “Me.”

  “No, just listen.” There was hurt and disapproval in his voice. “This was before you.”

  “But—”

  “Let me finish.”

  Shelby waited. She waited so long, she squeezed his hand again.

  That did the trick.

  “Your mother was invited on a skiing trip to Aspen with some important clients.”

  “Mom doesn’t ski.” Not e
ver.

  “Not anymore.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Her competitive streak got the better of her. When the group decided to take a Black Diamond run, she couldn’t turn them down. At that elevation, the air is thin. Four months along, her body was changing and not as able to take fast turns.”

  Shelby didn’t want to hear the rest, but she couldn’t keep running away from truths either.

  “Your mother?” He gnawed on his lip. “I’m sure she came down that slope like a bat out of hell. She told me she was ahead of everyone when she fell.”

  Sorrow burrowed deep in Shelby’s bones.

  “There’s a cost for every reckless decision that’s made, I suppose. Your mother spent a week in the hospital in critical condition. But that baby...that precious little life. Lost.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “Your mother should have known better. She should have been more careful. She should have placed more importance on the value of life—hers and that child’s—than the thrill of the moment.”

  “What about Dad? Did he just let her go skiing when she was pregnant?”

  “He couldn’t do anything to stop her, just as he can’t stop her now. People like your mother...” He fixed her with a hard stare. “People like Nick. They live in that moment. Their enthusiasm for life and living it their way is magnetic. I’m sure that was part of Nick’s appeal to you. He was a lot like your mother, just not as fortunate.”

  Shelby recalled how well her mother and Nick had gotten along. There was an energy between the two that instantly drew others to them.

  “Whereas people like you and Gage, you’re a different breed.” His wrinkles smoothed. His voice softened. “You watch your step and consider the consequences of your actions. You assume that everyone else does, too. It’s what makes the mistakes of others so hard to accept. I always thought you and Gage were the better match because of your similarities.”

  Obviously, it wasn’t the first time someone had paired Shelby and Gage. People in their university science classes. Mae. Christine. But it was her grandfather’s perspective that finally joined the pieces together. How right it felt when she and Gage were in the same room. The interests, values and beliefs they shared. His rare genuine smile. His wit, his humor, the way he’d named her stubborn expression barnacles.

  “I loved Nick,” she murmured.

  “I’m not saying you didn’t.” His normal burly voice sounded thin. “But I’m not saying you shouldn’t look around. The heart’s a fickle organ. Doesn’t work as well when lonely.”

  “Doesn’t work as well when heartbroken.” Now it was her voice that sounded stretched thin against her throat.

  “You’ve been in limbo, hotshot. And along comes Gage, one of your closest friends, telling you what you dreaded hearing, what you needed to hear. That type of honesty deserves forgiveness. Think about it.” He patted her head again. It was an accepting pat. A loving pat. An everything will be all right pat. “If Gage had gone with Nick that day, most likely, both men would’ve drowned, perhaps while one was trying to save the other.”

  The truth in his words sank in. “I’ve lost my appetite.” Her grandfather pushed himself to his feet. “While you’re cooking dinner, you think about these so-called hurdles of yours in the way of forgiveness, think about how lucky you are that one of your men survived.”

  * * *

  SHE’D WAITED UP for him. Or at least, she’d tried.

  Gage found Shelby slumped over her laptop at the kitchen table, the Siamese cat in her lap. He paused inside the kitchen doorway, storing the image in his memory. The flyaway wisps of short golden hair. The thick lashes and sun-kissed cheeks. The wrinkled black T-shirt. Her hand lay across the table as if inviting him to draw closer.

  It’s been a long couple of days, Jamero.

  “Come on, Shel. Time for bed.” He gave her shoulder a gentle shake.

  The cat hopped to the floor with a plaintive meow.

  Shelby sat up, finding his hand when her eyes were barely open. “What time is it?”

  “It’s after two.” Her hand was soft. Her grip possessive. His heart lost. “I don’t think either of us will be running in the morning.”

  She yawned. “Did you deliver a baby?”

  “Yep.” He’d delivered a beaut. “No nips, no kicks, no trampling.” At least, none that connected. After the mare settled down, it’d been an easy delivery.

  Shelby released him. Blinked. “Let me see.” She tugged at his shirt.

  He dodged behind a chair, pulling his T-shirt free. “I’m not taking my shirt off again.”

  “I’m awake now, and I need to make sure you’re safe.” There was a clear note of urgency in her voice.

  She’d admitted valuing safety over love and even friendship. It was the exact opposite of Nick’s philosophy. “I’m telling you I’m fine. Not a scratch.” And then he saw the scrape down the back of his hand where Misty Bog’s hoof had grazed him.

  Shelby saw it, too. She blanched. “You did get kicked. What if you have internal bleeding? What if you go to sleep and you don’t wake up?”

  He tugged his shirt off and turned around slowly so that she could see the only place he’d been touched was the back of his hand. “We’re going to have to talk about your phobia.”

  “I’m only scared for you.” She sounded miserable. “Which makes no sense.”

  “Because I’m Dead Gage?” It hurt to say it out loud, to acknowledge that he’d been successful in cutting her out of his life. “We don’t have to do this if it’s too painful. I can leave, though you’ll have to explain it to your grandfather.”

  “We’re different.” She used the same tone that Gage used when telling a client there was no hope for an animal.

  “It’s why I stayed away.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s why I should go.” But there was his promise to Doc. His feet didn’t budge.

  “No. You shouldn’t leave.” Her voice strengthened. “I can remember sitting at this table dozens of times and listening to Nick tease you because you didn’t want to climb a dangerous cliff or snowboard down a challenging trail. What I can’t remember, ever, is sitting here and listening to you convince him of the danger about something. No one ever talked him out of doing what he’d set his mind to.” Her realization cut through the guilt and the uncertainty. It reached deep into Gage’s heart, offering absolution. “You wouldn’t have stopped him from going on the river that day, Gage. It didn’t matter if you showed up or not.”

  Gage wanted to believe her.

  But he’d wanted to believe many impossible things before.

  And been disappointed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I WAS HOPING plumbing wouldn’t be an issue.” Sleep deprived, Shelby unlocked the door to Dream Day Bridal early Tuesday morning for Dane Utley. He was the contractor who’d remodeled the winery’s one hundred year old buildings. “And then someone came in and stole our copper pipe.”

  The thieves had broken into six businesses in all. Speculation about the thieves’ identities still ran high on the gossip meter. The elderly residents created a number of interesting theories about potential suspects. Since the suspects were always related to folks in town, each theory ruffled someone’s feathers.

  Gage ruffled Shelby’s feathers. She was at a loss now as to how to act around him. She couldn’t, wouldn’t try to ignore him any longer, still, it didn’t mean she could see a future for herself with him, or anyone else.

  “People ransack old buildings and new construction all the time.” Dane drew her back to the present as he glanced around the main room. “It’s become an annoying part of the business. In this case, I wouldn’t worry about missing pipes. You’ll probably want to move the bathroom to the rear of the building to allow for your storage tanks anyway.”

&nbs
p; “Agreed.” Dane’s foreman, Joey Harris, a short, wiry man with a sharp gaze had followed them in. “Is it me? Or is there something a little zombie-like about the mannequins in here? The one with arms seems like she wants a dance and is reaching for me.”

  Dane smiled sheepishly at Shelby. “Construction humor. Every old building has a character and a story.”

  Ignoring looking at the bridal dais, Shelby stood up for the place. She led Joey directly to the window display. “Would it help if I introduced you? Her name is Conchita and she’s been here since Dream Day Bridal opened for business.”

  “Get out.” Joey flicked back his steel-gray ponytail. “They have names?”

  “Just Conchita. She was stunning in her day. Nothing to fear.” Shelby glanced at the dais with its mirrors.

  “Nice to meet you, Conchita.” Dane tipped an imaginary hat. “Now, let’s get to work.”

  With one last speculative glance from Joey at Conchita, the two men set about measuring the space and poking at walls, stomping on the stair treads and knocking on the ceiling. Shelby followed them around, always keeping her back to the dais, answering questions when she could, stepping outside a few times to field calls from Christine and Mae.

  “Structurally...” Dane began his summation in the storage room thirty minutes later. “This is the best building I’ve seen in Harmony Valley all year.”

  That should have reassured Shelby. “I sense this is a good-news, bad-news moment.”

  Dane nodded. “If you want to convert this into a wine cellar, you’ve got a few challenges. Those large plate glass windows in front face the west, letting in the afternoon heat. I’m afraid you won’t have any natural light in the place when we’re done.”

  “Dark is good,” Shelby said. Depressing, but good for the wine.

  “Dark increases the efficiency of the special cooling unit you requested, too.” Dane tucked his clipboard under his arm and led them back to the main room. He gestured toward the front door. “We’ll also need a wider entryway so you can get a forklift in here.”

  Joey eyed Conchita as if she might suddenly attack. “After we give the mannequins a proper burial, we’ll widen the space.”