Whispers at Willow Lake

by Mary Manners

  6

  The aroma of thick-cut filets had Ali’s mouth salivating. She glanced at Ryder, standing over the smoking grill with an icy bottle of root beer in one hand, and grinned.

  He was a natural.

  “I hope you like grilled zucchini.”

  “Mmm…if you’re cooking it, I’m sure I will.”

  The breeze lifted her hair and caused the sundress she’d slipped into to caress her knees. Strappy, flat sandals crisscrossed over her polished toes. The air was warm as May eased into June, soothing. If the weather held, the lake would be ready for swimming soon.

  “You still like to read, Ali?” Ryder poured her a glass of sweet tea.

  “I love it when I can find the time.” She took the glass from him. “Which isn’t too often these days.”

  “Marry Larder, and you’ll have plenty of time.” Ryder expertly flipped a steak, and it sizzled as it hit the grate on the way down. “A life of leisure.”

  “I like my life now.” She sipped the sweet tea he’d garnished with a fat lemon wedge, her gaze fixing on his over the rim of the glass. Her belly fluttered, and for the slightest moment she was back in time, before Josh left them and when being with Ryder felt so right. “I’m not looking for leisure.”

  “Sounds like a serious conflict of interest to me.”

  “I’m not going to marry him, Ryder.” Ali knew it with certainty. She and John were just too different, and he became more opinionated and demanding with each passing day. “I never even truly considered it, though he’s put some serious pressure on me lately.”

  “When are you going to clue him in?”

  “I already have.” She twisted a loose thread on her dress, tugged it free. “I didn’t have lunch with him, but I did meet him at the station late this afternoon.”

  “How did he take the news?”

  “He tried to talk me out of it, of course.” He’d used some unkind words, as well, when he realized the finality of her decision. Daggers that made it much easier to realize she’d done the right thing.

  “Guess he needed to verify, right?”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm.” Ali leaned against the rail, scanning the outcropping of boulders along the lake. She remembered the exact place where Josh had fallen to his death. She could see the jutted rocks along the bluff clearly in the waning sunlight. “He’ll make someone a good husband. Just not…me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She sighed. “It simply wasn’t in the plan.”

  “And, what is in the plan?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” She glanced toward the library, where she’d left the Bible open after studying. “I’m still praying about it.”

  “Me, too.” Ryder crossed to the rail to ease in beside her. He smoothed a wisp of hair that had slipped across her eyes. “At least we both have that—a blessing to balance the heartache and uncertainty. The greatest gift Mama gave me was the ability to trust God. I’m trusting Him now, Ali. Are you?”

  “Though at times it’s been a challenge, I’ve never stopped trusting Him.” She took Ryder’s hand. “I trust Him now with this…with us.”

  ****

  “Walk with me?” Ryder asked when they’d finished dinner and a heated game of Scrabble, which he’d won by two points in the final round. “It will give you time to think of all the words you might have used to beat me, instead of losing.”

  “Well, aren’t you the gracious champion.” Alison’s nose scrunched as she frowned. “I guess I’ll be washing your truck tomorrow.”

  “And I’ll pull up a lawn chair to watch.” Ryder grinned. “It ought to be quite the show.”

  “You’re incorrigible. Mama Stallings was right.”

  “She did her best trying to reform me.” Ryder sidestepped as Ali swatted playfully. “So did the military. I guess I’m just beyond retribution.”

  “Oh, Ryder, you’re not as tough as you think you are…at least not like that.” Ali twined her fingers with his as they started down the deck stairs. Moonlight spilled across the darkness, casting a glow over the lake. Water rippled beneath the slightest breeze, shimmering like a platoon of fireflies as it ebbed and crested. “I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly unless you absolutely had to.”

  “The tough guy act doesn’t impress you, huh?”

  “Never has.” Her lips curled into a smile and her green eyes laughed. “I saw the way you played with Josh, dried his tears when the other kids were mean to him. Your big heart and gentleness are just a few of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

  “They are?” He stumbled over the words, shocked by the effect they had on him. Josh couldn’t help he was born with Down syndrome. Ryder certainly knew what it felt like to be dealt a challenging hand. Though separated in age by nearly a decade, he and Josh had shared a special bond from the start. “Gentleness…but there were times, in the military—”

  “It’s OK.” Ali pressed an index finger to his lips. “You don’t have to tell me…unless you want to.”

  “No.” His free hand splayed over his thigh. There was no point in reliving it, or in leaving Ali with such intense images. She had enough on her plate. “I’m done with that chapter of my life, as least as far as active duty goes. I’ve remained in the reserves—one weekend a month, two full weeks a year. Of course, if a situation warrants, I suppose I can be called up again at any time. I can’t promise that will never happen. Can you handle that, Ali?”

  “I suppose I could learn to.” She paused to press a warm palm to his cheek, her gaze steady on his. Clouds slipped over the moon, veiling the light as a bull frog serenaded in the distance and crickets found their rhythm. “I’m proud of you, Ryder.”

  “Oh, Ali…” His throat thickened. Her words were an arrow that pierced straight to his heart. “The whole time I was overseas, all I could think about was you—what you were doing, if your heart was still breaking for Josh…if you could ever forgive me for what happened that day—and everything after.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, my heart still breaks a little every once in a while.” She pressed her cheek to his T-shirt and smoothed a hand down his back. The scent of her perfume carried on the gentle breeze. “I miss him, Ryder. I suppose you do, too.”

  “I do.”

  “I know now that leaving was the only way you could return whole.” She pulled back, her eyes shimmering like precious emeralds. “I’m just so sorry about Mama Stallings, that you didn’t have more time.”

  “The time we did have was good. She was so kind to me, Ali. She always knew just what to say. I still hear her voice running through my head.”

  “I know.”

  “After my mom left…all those years. And with my dad…” He shook his head, unable to find the words. “I couldn’t even bring myself to cry when he died. But the other day, at the memorial…” He’d lost it, and Ali had witnessed his tears.

  “It was so hard for you.” She smoothed hair from the collar of his shirt. “No one should be dealt such a hand, especially as a child.”

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” Ryder turned to walk along the water’s edge. “I’ve hurt you, honey. I can’t take that back.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” She fell in step alongside him. “I hurt you, too. I should have talked to you after the accident, let you know what I was feeling. It was unfair to shut you out—to keep you guessing about what was going on inside my heart. Maybe you wouldn’t have left. Maybe things would have turned out differently between us. Maybe—”

  “No more maybes.” He paused and drew her back, easing her close once more as the darkness enfolded them. “I’ve missed you so much. Let me kiss you, Ali.”

  She tilted her chin, closed her eyes and offered her lips. “Ryder…” The tremor in her voice mirrored his longing.

  Light suddenly cut through the night, flashing across the water. An engine rumbled as a car made its way up the drive toward the inn.

 
; “That would be the guests.” Ali slipped a palm over his cheek, and he felt the steady throb of her pulse. “They’ll be waiting on me. I need to get back.”

  Ryder groaned. Though it took every ounce of his restraint, he loosened his hold on her and stepped back. He skimmed his fingers over her shoulder. “We’ll finish this later.”

  7

  “Your truck’s washed,” Ali announced as Ryder stumbled into the kitchen for a cup of coffee the next morning. “Take a look.”

  He peered through the kitchen window. His Ford sat at the top of the drive, its black paint gleaming beneath brilliant morning sunlight. “When did you do that?”

  “Before I started breakfast.”

  “And I missed it.” He eyed the sundress that skimmed her knees, strappy sandals and generous waves of hair swept into a neat ponytail that caressed her shoulders as she moved about the dining area. “You must have been up at the crack of dawn.”

  “Thereabout.” She grinned mischievously. “Sorry you missed the show, sleepyhead.”

  “You always were a morning person—the only one who stayed awake during every day of Mr. Spangler’s first period economics class senior year.”

  “Good thing I sat beside you so I could kick your desk every time you nodded off and began to snore.”

  “I do not snore.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  Footsteps along the hallway quieted the good-natured spat. Ali turned toward the doorway just as a snowy-haired woman stepped through. Her grizzled husband followed, bringing with him a cloud of aftershave.

  “Good morning.” Ali’s smile lit up the room. “I hope you slept well.”

  “Beautifully.” The woman went straight for the coffee carafe that Ali had just filled and set on the buffet. “Like a baby with a full tummy. Smells delicious in here, dear.”

  “Martha, please pour me a cup, and don’t skimp on the creamer.” Her husband shuffled over to a chafing dish filled with scrambled eggs. “This is just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Go easy on those eggs, Stuart.” His wife pointed a finger at him, adding a stern dip of her lips. “Because eggs are not what the doctor ordered.”

  “Yes, dear.” He dumped an oversized scoopful onto his plate before diving into the biscuits and gravy.

  “What are your plans today, Mrs. Lawson?” Ali asked as she removed the lids from the remaining chafing dishes. Ryder’s gut rumbled at the scrumptious aroma and he fell into line behind Stuart, who continued to pile his plate high with sausage links and toast. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “Stuart was hoping to fish for a while this morning before we go into town to shop a bit.”

  “Do you know a place where we might rent some tackle?” Mr. Lawson asked, not bothering to wait until he got to the dining table before he shoveled the first forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I meant to pack mine, but the wife here moved it all back into the garage before I could load it into the car.”

  “I was not going to drive five hours with the line dangling over my shoulder, honey,” Mrs. Lawson interjected before sinking her teeth into a slice of jelly-slathered toast.

  “It’s no problem.” Ali settled at the table with a cup of coffee as Ryder slipped into a chair beside her, his mouth watering at the full plate before him. “I have some rods and equipment in the boathouse. You’re welcome to use whatever you’d like.”

  “Wonderful. Perfect.” Encouraged, Mr. Lawson added another scoop of eggs to his plate. “We’ll make a day of it.”

  “Half a day.” Mrs. Lawson frowned around her toast. “Remember our compromise, dear.”

  “I’ll run down and get some equipment for you as soon as I’m finished eating,” Ryder offered. He remembered exactly where the fishing gear was stored. “There’s a nice, quiet inlet just a hundred yards downstream, still on Willow Inn property, so you won’t need a license.” He and Ali had spent enough summer days lounging beneath the whispering willows there. He’d taught her how to bait a hook and laughed as she squealed while reeling in her first catch. “I’m happy to show you where, if you’d like.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Mrs. Lawson slapped peach jam on a second slice of honey-wheat as she glanced at Ali. “And, if you have a map of downtown, dear, I’ll plan my shopping trip. Someone told me there’s a bookstore?”

  “That’s right…Posts and Pages. It’s on Magnolia Street, near the center of town.” Ali reached into the pocket of her dress. “Here’s a business card. My friend, Josie Parker, owns it. Tell her I sent you and she’ll offer a generous discount.”

  “Lovely.” Mrs. Lawson took the card. “Thank you, dear.”

  ****

  Ali tidied the kitchen, glancing down the drive from time to time to watch for Ryder’s truck. He’d left two hours ago—first to gather fishing gear for the Lawsons and then for a trip to town. She wondered what he would bring back.

  The man was full of surprises.

  A rumble up the drive claimed her attention. She peered out the window overlooking the sink to see Sergeant Larder pulling up the drive. Ali wondered about the fact that she already thought of him that way—as a sergeant instead of the man she’d dated with some regularity. A motorcycle gleamed from the back of his truck. Ali assumed it belonged to Ryder. She rushed outside.

  “Good morning, Alison.” John dipped his hat as he climbed from the driver’s seat. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

  “A perfect day.”

  “Saw a couple fishing up at the inlet. Do they have a license?”

  “They don’t need one, John. That’s still my property.”

  “Your property?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You have no intention of selling this place, do you?”

  “No. I haven’t changed my mind. I won’t change it. I told you I love it here.”

  “I don’t see why.” He reached into his pocket, tamped a cigarette from the pack he’d stashed there. “You’re mired in some bad memories here.”

  “Good ones, too.” Ali stepped back as he lit the cigarette and the breeze blew smoke in her direction. She suddenly realized that smoking was just one of his many habits that annoyed her. “More good than bad.”

  “If you say so.” He took a step toward her, the cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Are you sure you don’t want—”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She couldn’t step away fast enough. “Is that Ryder’s motorcycle?”

  “It is.” He nodded sharply. “I suppose I’ve kept it long enough. His story checked out.”

  “Just like he said it would.” Temper nipped at Ali’s throat, making her words high and sharp. “You put him in a holding cell, John. You made him spend the night. He missed Mama Stallings—he wasn’t there with her, and it was his intention to be.”

  “Sometimes even the best intentions are dashed to smithereens.” His gaze narrowed pointedly. “I was simply performing the duties expected of a police chief.”

  “You’re not the chief, John.”

  “Not yet, but I will be—soon.”

  “Ryder’s here to stay. He’s come home.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He placed the hat back on his head, pulling the brim low across his watery eyes. “Mark my words, Alison—Hawk will run again. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon. And when he does, I might decide to take you back. But on my terms—not yours. We’ll see who comes out on top.”

  “You’re wrong.” She clutched her arms over her roiling belly. “You’re not a nice man, John Larder, and I’ll never go back to you now that I know what you really are.”

  “If you say so.” He tossed the cigarette butt to the blacktop and ground the stub with the toe of his boot. “We’ll see.”

  8

  “What are you into now?”

  Ryder glanced up to find Ali peering at him later that afternoon, one hand draped across her brow to shield her eyes from the sun. He’d been lost in his work, thankful that the task of reworking the landscaping around the inn kept his mi
nd—and his hands—busy and out of trouble.

  “I’m dead-heading.” He sat back to swipe sweat from his face with a bandanna. The flats of wave petunias added a splash of color to perennials strategically placed along the drive and around the back of the inn.

  “Dead-heading? What’s that?”

  “I’m pulling off the shriveled buds so new ones can grow.” He demonstrated. “Sometimes you have to get rid of the old to make way for the new.”

  Ali squatted beside him, tugging a few of the dead buds loose. “It’s cathartic.”

  “Yes, it is.” He nodded toward the drive. “I see my cycle has made a return.”

  “John brought it right after you left this morning. He said he’d kept it long enough.”

  “Is that so?” Ryder reached for his water bottle. Ice clinked as he guzzled. Water dribbled down his chin, and he swiped it away with the back of his hand. “What else did he say?”

  Ali shrugged and Ryder sensed she was holding back. He’d seen the little dip of her shoulders enough times to know.

  “You can tell me anything, Ali. No more secrets.”

  “He said”—she plucked another dried bloom and then tossed it into his weed bucket as she stood—”that you’re going to run again.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’ve done a beautiful job here, Ryder.” She motioned to landscape timbers that spanned saw horses, waiting to be cut to size and the pile of river rock that had been delivered just that morning. A chunk of work remained, but not much compared to where he’d started. Tears filled her eyes as the next words came. “But, you’re almost finished. What will you do next?”

  Her tears did a number on his heart. “Whatever I want.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “I like this.” He shrugged and motioned toward the river rock he’d laid. “I like making something new out of what’s dead and barren. Maybe it’s my calling.”