by Melissa Tagg
And in that one flawless moment, all her worry about their marriage, all her disappointment, eroded into dust. Later, back at home, for the first time in so long, Jeremy had held her all night, whispered his love like he used to when they were first married. She’d woken up curled against him and so very, very happy.
But movement caught in her periphery, and she lifted her gaze from the empty crib. There, in the corner of the nursery . . . Dani. She sat in a rocking chair, hospital gown draping over her form, and in her arms, a bundle of blanket and baby, Mary’s tuft of black hair peeking out.
Why . . . ?
Hadn’t Dani said she wasn’t going to hold her? Thought it’d be easier that way?
Dani leaned over to kiss Mary’s cheek, her bangs flopping over her face. And when she lifted her head, pushed her hair away from her own cheek, her eyes met Amelia’s through the glass. They brimmed with apology and something else.
Decision. Certainty.
No. Please, God, no.
The hurt was sharp, sudden. Numbing. She couldn’t move. Just stood there, staring, watching a wounding flood she hadn’t seen coming sweep away her future as Dani shook her head.
And that’s when she’d heard the footsteps, Jeremy’s rising voice, and the social worker’s futile attempts at calming. “I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Lucas. Unfortunately these things happen more than we’d like.”
Voices sounded outside the closet, and Amelia jerked, the flashback over as quickly as it’d begun.
And then Jeremy’s voice—unwelcome, mollifying, and almost professional. “Why don’t you let me help you, Amelia? Obviously you’re still struggling. I’ve helped a lot of people dealing with things in their past and—”
“You can’t seriously be trying to counsel me right now.” For the first time in years, she almost wished he was standing right here with her. Because then she could reach for a bottle of Windex from the janitor’s shelf and spray it at him. Make him stop.
Instead, impulse wrangled her into doing the next best thing. She jerked her phone away from her ear and sent it hurtling into the mop bucket next to her feet. It plunked in the water with a tiny splash.
What. Is. Wrong. With. You?
But before she could register what she’d just done, the closet door swung open.
“There you are. Some kid said you were in here, and I didn’t believe him. What are you doing—” Logan cut off at the sight of her. Trembling. Probably looking like an idiot. “Amelia, what’s wrong? Did you just get bad news?”
“It’s nothing.”
The closet door banged shut behind him as he crossed the narrow space toward her. “It is, too. You’re white as a ghost, and you’re shaking. Who was that on the phone?”
She didn’t want to tell him. Or maybe she did. Oh, why was she reacting like this? Like her past was a haunted house and she was a little kid, lost. “Jeremy.”
Logan stilled. “Your ex-husband?”
She nodded.
“Why was he calling?”
Even with only a flickering bulb for light, she could see the billows of compassion in Logan’s eyes, the concern. It was the same look he had given Charlie the other day when she’d been running around the office and knocked into the edge of Owen’s desk. Or when he’d told her about Jenessa and her parents.
“Maybe we could have Jen take some photos for the paper. She’s good, Amelia. And I think she could use the boost.”
How did he do it? Hone in on people’s hurt and know just what to do? As if he’d refined the craft of compassion as much as he had his writing.
“There’s a girl named Dani. Before Jeremy was as big of a name as he is now, we helped with the youth ministry at our church. Dani was a high school senior. Bad home life, tough childhood. We—especially I—mentored her. We got pretty close.” She took a breath. “And then she got pregnant.”
The rest of it rushed from her. “I’m not even sure how it happened, but somehow I talked to Dani about her options, and by the end of the conversation, I’d asked if she’d consider letting Jeremy and I adopt her baby. We’d been trying for so long . . .”
She could see the pieces coming together in Logan’s eyes.
“Jeremy thought it was a bad idea, but I talked him into it. Turns out he was right, though. Dani changed her mind the day after she had . . .” She couldn’t even say the baby’s name.
Maybe she was over Jeremy. Maybe that one piece of her heart had glued itself back into place.
But she wasn’t over everything.
“Amelia.”
“I think I hated Dani almost more than Jeremy for a while.” The confession came out a shaky whisper.
Logan stepped toward her, but she backed up, knocking into a shelf behind her, wrapped rolls of toilet paper wobbling. No, she didn’t want his comfort right now. Not after the ugly truth scraping through her, the lingering effect of Jeremy’s voice.
“Jeremy was calling about Dani?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t realize you were in touch with him.”
“I wasn’t. Only called him last week because of that reporter. The one who interviewed you. She contacted me looking for help getting ahold of Jeremy, and I told her no but then she said she’d do whatever she could to return the favor and . . . well.”
Understanding dawned on Logan’s face. “You asked her to do a story on me?”
The first twinge of something other than heartache slipped in. “Well, yeah. I thought it’d help you. National exposure . . . that candidate you want to work for . . .” She shrugged.
Logan just stared at her.
And then, before she could think or respond or resist, she was in his arms and he was kissing her. Like . . . like she’d gone and righted his entire world rather than made a simple call. Like a man starved.
Or maybe she was the one starved. Because she was the one threading her arms around his neck and pressing all of herself into all of him. She hardly heard the rolls of toilet paper hitting the hard floor as he backed her into the shelf or his foot knocking into the mop bucket where her phone sunk.
She couldn’t breathe.
She didn’t want to breathe.
But then the door swung open once more, assaulting them with light. Logan broke away with a gasp. And Colton’s voice. “Uh, I . . . whoa . . . sorry. But Logan, you have to come see this. The blizzard. And the caterer just called to cancel.”
“I think I might literally be in shock.”
The blizzard furled in twirls of white, like a thousand tiny sandstorms swaying from the ground. All these people should be tucked in their homes, under blankets and in front of fireplaces, laughing about Iowa and snow in May.
Instead, it looked like half the town of Maple Valley had come out for the relocated fundraiser. The one Amelia had saved with a fleet of last-minute changes and slew of phone calls.
He’d been ready to cancel. “I didn’t think this was possible.”
She stood beside him now, huffing into her cupped hands next to him, lantern light sparkling in her eyes. “Anything is possible when you call in enough favors.”
“But I don’t understand. How did you . . . we only had a few hours . . .”
Bear McKinley’s voice crooned over the snow-covered yard that stretched outside the Maple Valley depot. A train car anchored to its track served as the stage, side door pulled open and strings of Christmas lights adorning its insides. Outside, community members tramped through still-falling snow, umbrellas for shelter, and dozens, maybe hundreds, of paper bag lanterns for light.
No catered meal like he’d planned, but Seth had pulled through to provide enough dessert offerings to put the whole town on a sugar high. The employees of Coffee Coffee—minus Megan, who was still at home with a newborn—had assembled to serve coffee, apple cider, and cocoa. Bear, apparently, had a cold, but he was pressing through anyway up on the makeshift stage.
“Did Seth ever tell you about the day before his restaurant opened, Logan?”
Amelia nodded. “Raegan told me that the day before he realized he didn’t have any chairs—not a single one. He started to panic, but eventually he and Rae got on the phone, starting calling folks. And by the next day, he had all the chairs he needed.” She looked out over her handiwork. “That’s just how things work in Maple Valley.”
He turned to face Amelia now. She’d traded her newsboy hat for a knit cap, and it flopped over her forehead. The scarf around her neck matched the hat, her hair spilling between the two.
And for what had to be the thousandth time since this afternoon, he replayed those heated minutes in the closet. Had he seriously done that? Him, the guy it took six dates to as much as peck Emma on the cheek on her parents’ porch steps? He’d practically tackled Amelia.
Yeah, well, it’s not like she didn’t kiss you back.
“You’re grinning. You think Colton’s happy? We did good?”
“You did good.” The end of her scarf batted in front of her, and he reached to wind it back in place.
“Wasn’t just me.”
No, but she’d had all the ideas. She’d made it happen. “I can’t believe people showed up, though. I mean, in a blizzard.”
“I have lived in this town for a few years now, Logan. I know people. They loooove to complain about snow and the cold. But offer horse-drawn sleigh rides, and they can’t dig out their long johns and boots fast enough.”
The lineup of sleighs waited off to the side of the depot, horses covered with blankets. “But where’d you find the sleighs and horses?”
“I did a story on J.J.’s Stables last summer, and it helped out their horse-boarding business. J.J. owed me.”
She shrugged as if her efforts amounted to nothing more than a last-minute dinner party for friends. “It may not make as much money as Colton hoped for, but then again, I’m not sure money was his end goal so much as moral support for the Parker House. It’s not the sit-down fancy dinner you’d planned. No spinning glitter ball, either.”
“There was never going to be a glitter ball.” He couldn’t stop smiling.
“No? I’m strangely disappointed by that.” A snowflake caught in her eyelash, and she blinked it away.
He remembered the umbrella hooked around his arm. In a spurt of movement, he lifted the thing and popped it open. “Here, you’re getting pelted by snow.” He lifted it over their heads.
“So where’s Charlie tonight? I’ve been looking for her.”
He took a steadying breath. “When Rick and Helen heard we moved this thing outside, they didn’t like the idea of Charlie being out in the storm. Maybe they had a point.”
“Are you kidding? You would’ve bundled her up, and she would’ve had a blast. She would’ve loved a sleigh ride.”
She would’ve especially loved that. One of the puppets the therapist loaned him was a horse, and she broke into laughter every time he fake neighed for her.
“I don’t know, things are weird with my in-laws right now. I don’t know if they’re just sore that they don’t get to see her more or think I’m a bad parent or what. But something’s off.”
Charlie’s fall from the tree a couple weeks ago and Logan bringing her home when she had the flu last week instead of letting Helen care for her at their house had only made things worse.
“If they think you’re a bad parent, Logan, they’re the ones who are off. Charlie couldn’t ask for a better dad.”
Was she trying to get him to kiss her again? And shouldn’t they talk about that at some point?
He turned away from the stage to face Amelia. “Hey, so about this afternoon . . .”
Her eyes were still on Bear, but he had a feeling it wasn’t just cold rosying her cheeks now. Snowflakes tapped on the umbrella above them.
“If that was, like, in any way inappropriate or . . . well . . .” Maybe he should’ve figured out what he wanted to say before opening his mouth and botching this.
She bit her lip over an amused half smile. “It wasn’t inappropriate, Logan.”
“We were in a supply closet, though. Like it was high school or something.”
Now she turned to him. “It was in a high school.”
She was laughing now, and he was too, and oh, maybe they didn’t need to talk about this. Analyze what had happened or define what had changed in their relationship this afternoon or what it meant for tomorrow or next week or whenever. Maybe tonight, for now, they could just enjoy this bubble of time.
Bear’s song slid to a close.
“Hey, there’s one thing I haven’t told you about tonight. One other change I was thinking we could make.”
The wind shifted direction, and he tilted the umbrella to shield her. “What’s that?”
“Come with me.”
She started for the depot, hair bouncing against her shoulders underneath her cap. He followed.
They reached the shoveled boardwalk that circled the depot, snowdrifts packed against the building’s baseboards and their steps pounding on the wood underfoot. Amelia pushed her way in, the warmth of inside reaching out to pull him in behind her.
He blinked to adjust to the lighting, gaze roaming the space. It still shone with new paint and gleaming displays after the renovation following last summer’s tornado—not to mention their cleaning a couple weeks ago.
Amelia disappeared down the hallway, moving in the direction of his father’s office. She reappeared seconds later carrying . . . a guitar case?
Not just any guitar case, he realized as she came closer. His guitar case. The one from high school and college, covered with stickers from his favorite bands, most peeling and some faded. She held it out to him upright. “I saw it in your room the night I babysat Charlie.”
“And it’s here because . . . ?”
“Bear’s got a cold. He’s not going to be able to do more than a few songs.”
“Amelia, I haven’t played for years.”
“I’m sure it’s like riding a bike. Just sing a song or two. People will love it.”
The wind pushed against the building, shaking the hinges of the depot’s doors and rattling its windows. “Sorry, but no.”
“I know you haven’t had time to practice, but—”
“Amelia.” He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so sharp. Hated how it made her wince and step back. But there wasn’t any arguing this. “I’m not singing tonight.”
“Well . . . okay then.” She didn’t meet his eyes as she lowered the guitar case. “Guess I’ll go put this back.”
Regret bobbed through him as she turned.
He heard the door open behind him, felt the whoosh of cold air barrel over him even as he overheated under all the layers he wore.
“What are you doing in here, son? Party’s outside.” Dad.
He spun. “Why’d you save it? The guitar?”
The bridge of Dad’s nose pinched under his stocking cap. “I think I missed something.”
“I said you could sell it or give it away or even trash it.”
Dad stomped the snow off his boots. “I thought you might change your mind and want it eventually. What’s wrong with you?”
He didn’t know.
Okay, he did, but . . .
Amelia.
No, he couldn’t play. But he could at least apologize for biting her head off when there was no way she could’ve known what she was asking him. He muttered an apology to Dad and took off after Amelia, trailing down the hallway.
Except she wasn’t there. Only the telltale puddle of melted snow that must have drifted through the back door when she exited. And there, leaning against Dad’s office door, his guitar case.
12
The gray walls of Jonas Clancy’s office were like a mirror into Amelia’s spirit this Monday morning—and a perfect match for the sky outside his window, cloud-laden and drab.
“Sorry about the smell,” the bank’s senior loan officer said as he lowered into the angular chair behind his glass-top desk. Grayish hair and kind eyes above a crease-lined smile. “Whole place got a fresh paint job last week.”
And they couldn’t have picked a cheerier color? The paint’s cloistering smell had knocked into her as soon as she’d walked into the bank. If she hadn’t already woken up with a headache, the heady air inside the building would’ve done the job.
But she pasted on a smile as artificial as the Sweet’n Low Jonas tipped into his coffee now. “Are you sure you don’t want a cup?”
If she downed any more caffeine this morning, she could add a stomachache to the pounding in her head. This was why a person shouldn’t wake up before five a.m. Way too much time to drink way too much coffee before an important meeting. “I’m good, but thanks anyway. I think I’ve downed half a pot already this morning.”
“Nervous?” Jonas pushed aside the empty sweetener packets.
“That obvious?”
“More like, that normal. Most folks waiting on a bank loan deal get a little edgy when it’s time to talk numbers.”
So she wasn’t ridiculous for feeling like jitters had taken over her body. Truth was, it wasn’t only the possibility of a no from the bank that’d rumbled around in her brain all night, even when she was asleep.
It was Saturday night. It was the look in Logan’s eyes that went so far beyond annoyance.
It was the gnawing realization that she’d hurt him without even knowing how. The fact that she hadn’t heard from him since. And that kiss . . . she’d relived it how many times now?
“Now, then.” Jonas tapped the stack of application papers against his desk to straighten their edges, then laid them in front of him. He scanned the cover sheet, licked his finger, and then flipped to the second page. Third, fourth. “You’ve done your homework, Amelia.”
“I’ll admit I had help. Seth Walker.”
“Ah, hard to believe it’s already been a couple years since I signed off on his loan.” The furnace kicked in, the movement of air just enough to sway the potted fern at the side of Jonas’s desk. He continued through the application, fingering his burgundy tie, the one streak of color in a suit ensemble that otherwise matched the walls.