Juni tipped her head to one side as if she, too, were listening.
“Well,” Kat said to the dog. “Looks like it’s just you and me.” Great. A dog. Something else to deal with.
She glanced toward the overlook and startled. A man and a boy sat on the bench, their backs toward her, staring off across the valley. They must have been there through that whole high-volume back-and-forth with Sara, hidden on the far side of the SUV. Heat rose into Kat’s face as she tried to remember exactly what Sara had said. What these people must have heard. Why couldn’t Sara have warned Kat of their presence?
Juni looked toward the bench, barked once, and launched herself off the porch, bounding toward the strangers and undermining Sara’s claim of impeccable training.
“Juni, no!” Kat raced after the dog, worried she might attack. Who knew what a strange dog would do? By the time she caught up, Juni had reached the front of the bench, but aggression wasn’t on her agenda. She stood in front of the seated man, her tail a wagging blur as he scratched her behind the ears. Beside him, the boy had drawn up his legs and tucked himself into a ball to avoid the doggy enthusiasm.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry. My fault. This isn’t actually my dog … my daughter brought her … I don’t think she’ll hurt you.”
“Not a problem.” The man sounded more amused than irritated. He was athletically built, in his late forties, maybe early fifties, Kat’s age, with long legs and strong hands and graying hair cut close to his head. He wore neat khakis and a buttoned blue short-sleeved shirt. His voice was polite, and he didn’t seem to be a threat, but it was odd that he didn’t look at Kat when he spoke.
The boy peeked cautiously at the dog, uncurled himself, and held out one hand for Juni to sniff. He used his other hand to retain a firm hold on a small blue day pack that sat beside him on the bench. He wore black shorts that were too big, a long-sleeved dark-blue T-shirt that was too small, and once-red tennis shoes that had seen better days.
Kat stepped closer, her hand extended toward the dog. “I’ll take her back into the house. I’m sorry we disturbed you.”
“Not an issue. Really.”
The boy gained confidence, petting Juni now, and the dog shifted all her attention to him. The man turned toward Kat, giving her a clear view for the first time of the right side of his face, and she gasped. A thick red scar started below his right eye, pulling his eyelid into a slight squint and slicing a jagged path down his cheek and jaw. It continued down his neck and disappeared under his collar. Not a crisp, neat, surgical scar. A raw, vicious slash.
Kat flushed hot and turned away, the fire of her embarrassment catching in her throat and quickening her breath. She hoped the man hadn’t noticed her reaction, then realized at once that of course he had. She choked down a lump of shame and forced herself to face him.
He met her gaze calmly with no criticism in his eyes. He must be used to seeing such reactions, but that recognition only made Kat feel worse. If someone reacted to her breasts that way, she’d be mortified.
“I’m Malcolm Lassiter.” The man rested his hand on the child’s shoulder. The boy, perhaps nine or ten years old, glanced up at him but remained focused on the dog. “And this is Nirav.”
“Nice to meet you both. I’m Kat Jamison.”
Malcom turned and spoke softly to the child in a language Kat didn’t recognize. Nirav nodded and looked shyly at Kat. “Nice to meet.” He looked down at his shoes as soon as the words were out.
Kat smiled. She well remembered those days of constantly prompting good manners. “Thank you, Nirav.”
The boy slid off the bench and gestured toward Juni. “Papa, I go …” His face creased in concentration as he appeared to search for the next word, and then he gave up and finished his question in his own language.
Malcolm nodded and turned to Kat. “May Nirav play with the dog for a few minutes before we head back down?”
Thank goodness she could grant this small favor. Perhaps it would make up for her initial rudeness. “Of course. Her name is Juni.”
Nirav apparently understood, because he gave her a devastating smile, grabbed his bag, and tugged at Juni’s collar so she would follow him.
Malcolm scooted along the bench, making room. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the empty space beside him.
He was a total stranger, and they were in the middle of nowhere, but Kat didn’t feel she could refuse. He might think a rebuff was because of his face, and she couldn’t let him believe she was that superficial. She sat, glancing first at the dog and the boy, worried they both might disappear into the dense forest. But Nirav had placed his day pack on the porch steps and was playing with Juni in the grass, neither of them giving any indication of wandering.
“Are you and Nirav from around here or just visiting?”
“Only visiting. We just arrived in the U.S. from Pakistan, and we’re staying farther down the mountain. The blue house close to the paved road.” He glanced behind him at Nirav with a look of pride. “Nirav is my adopted son. I’m a security consultant, and I met him when I was working in Islamabad. The adoption papers were just finalized.”
Taking on the responsibility of a child. To all appearances, as a single parent. She might be doubting her own ability to meet the challenges that lay ahead, but here was someone who didn’t seem the least bit intimidated.
“You had a long walk up,” she said.
“Worth it. The realtor told us we shouldn’t miss this view, and she was right.” He gazed out at the valley for a moment. “Are you from around here?”
“No. I live in Alexandria. I drove all day yesterday, got here this morning, but we’ve … I’ve been here before. About ten years ago. This view is as striking as I remember, although it seems like there are a lot more dead trees. More patches of brown among the green.”
“I asked about that. Apparently pine beetles and ash borers are the cause. Warmer winters have helped them out, and this drought is killing the weakened trees. We drove in through the national forest, and they had signs up warning of a high fire risk. They’ve banned campfires and are urging people to be careful. All it takes is one idiot with a lit cigarette.”
Kat nodded. She’d noticed the signs but hadn’t given them much thought. Drought and fire. Oh good. More things to worry about.
They sat in silence for a few moments, and Kat glanced surreptitiously at the man beside her. His face, which spoke so eloquently of violence, still caused an inward twitch, but his kindness to the boy tempered her normal caution. She wanted to ask about Nirav—the two made an odd pair—but before she could think of the right way to introduce the question, Nirav and Juni rejoined them, the dog dragging a stick, the boy carrying a smooth stone that he proudly showed to Malcolm, who made suitable noises of appreciation.
He got to his feet. “We’d better head back down. Thanks for sharing your view, and for letting Nirav play with your dog.”
Kat stood and looked at him head on. “I enjoyed talking with you.” Malcom’s face considered a smile, although none made an appearance. “Nirav, if you come back, I know Juni would enjoy seeing you again.”
Nirav consulted with Malcolm with a glance and apparently found approval there. “Thank you. Yes. Please.”
Malcolm took a step down the road, but then he paused. “Listen. We’re not far away. If you need anything. If you feel unwell …” He stammered to a halt, perhaps seeing in her face that he hadn’t chosen his words well. “I mean, if there’s anything I can do, would you let me know?”
Kat studied his face. His scarred side was toward her, making it difficult to gauge his expression. Was this a neighborly gesture that he would extend to anyone? Or was this a result of what he’d overheard that morning—a let’s-help-the-cancer-victim obligatory outreach?
She hadn’t shared details of her current condition with anyone but Sara and a few close friends, but now Malcolm, a total stranger, knew she had cancer, knew she hesitated to treat it, knew her daughter disagreed. If
he’d heard every word, he even knew about her surgeries—what else had Sara said?
Pity was not what she needed. That was exactly why she didn’t broadcast the news of her illness. She didn’t need handouts; she could deal with this on her own.
As soon as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. Her first round of cancer treatments had slammed hard. Maybe part of her reason for avoiding treatment was because at rock bottom she doubted her own strength.
Malcolm was waiting for an answer. She opened her mouth to respond with her standard no-thanks—I’m fine, don’t think I’ll need anything, thanks for offering—but instead she heard her own voice saying, “Yes, I may need some help. I’ll let you know. Thank you.”
She looked away, flustered—she’d let her guard down, and she wasn’t at all sure that was a good thing. It was odd to accept help from someone she’d just met when she’d avoided seeking it from friends she’d known for years.
Malcolm didn’t seem to notice her mixed feelings. “I’ll count on it.”
He took Nirav’s hand and started downhill. Kat grabbed Juni by the collar to make sure she didn’t follow. Man and boy disappeared down the road, their heads turned toward one another as if deep in conversation.
That scar on Malcolm’s face spoke of violence and rage, of broken bottles in a bar fight or switchblades in a dark alley. Its brutality didn’t fit with his polite demeanor and the gentleness he showed toward Nirav, but that scar announced itself, abrupt and startling, wherever he went.
Kat’s world was sharply divided between those who knew and those who didn’t. She didn’t like the fact that Malcolm now fell by chance into the first category, but perhaps there was fairness in it. Her scars were well hidden, while he had to watch people recoil and turn away.
CHAPTER TWO
MONDAY, 1:00 PM
Quiet settled in at the cottage, the gentle sounds of birdsong and the rustles of the breeze in the stiff leaves of the rhododendron providing little distraction. Kat headed into the kitchen, Juni at her heels, and fixed a turkey sandwich and a glass of iced tea from the supplies she’d brought with her. She filled one of Juni’s bowls with water and carried it and the bag of dog supplies to the porch. A scant cup of kibble covered the bottom of the food bowl, and dog duties done, she brought her own food out.
Her conversation with Sara looped endlessly in her head. There had to be a better way to reach her daughter and make her understand. Squabbles and testy arguments were not the sort of memories Kat wanted to bequeath, but at the moment, that seemed all she had to offer. This next month would give them both time to think, and perhaps then they would find a way to move forward.
She sat in the rocking chair and tried to recapture her pleasure at being somewhere new. Her life had been so locked in routine since Jim’s death. If nothing else, being here would force some new patterns.
While Kat ate, Juni investigated the band of brown grass between the house and the road, making happy snuffling sounds. She stirred up small clouds of dust everywhere she stepped, which she would no doubt track back inside.
“How does it feel to be dumped onto a new owner?”
Juni lifted her head, pricked her ears, and bounded up the steps. She immediately scarfed her food.
“At least you don’t seem inclined to run away.” Kat laughed. “And here I am talking out loud to a dog. Maybe I really am starting to lose it.” If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up talking to herself as well.
Juni wagged her tail, trotted to the other end of the porch, and came back carrying one of Kat’s sneakers. She dropped it beside Kat’s feet and sat, her front paws perfectly aligned, staring with an expectant look. A stare like that communicated far more than words ever could, but Kat wasn’t buying it.
“Yeah. I get it. You want something to happen. Yet another reason I don’t want a dog.” She patted Juni on the head and waved her away.
The dog gave her another long, pointed look; then she went to the canvas bag, stuck her head inside, and got one of the tennis balls. Kat ignored her. Wet tongue lolling, Juni dropped the slobbery ball in Kat’s lap.
Kat recoiled and then rolled it off her leg with the tip of one fingernail, but she had to laugh. “Okay, okay. You win.” Not just a dog. A dog who gave orders. As persistent as Sara and as difficult to ignore.
She put on her shoes and grabbed her red flowered sun hat and her green shoulder bag with the Arlington High School logo. Juni picked up her ball and headed straight for a tangle of honeysuckle vines at the end of the gravel road. On the other side, a pair of ancient ruts disappeared into the woods, daring them to explore.
Kat didn’t follow. Probably nothing in that direction but hungry bobcats and poisonous snakes. The dark, dense forest there unnerved her, with trees of all sizes crowding together in a claustrophobic maze. Particularly forbidding when she was here alone. She reached up and touched the small disk of polished petrified wood she wore beneath her blouse on a silver necklace, and it calmed her as it always did, the talisman that kept her anchored.
She called Juni away. The dog returned at once, so perhaps she was trustworthy. Kat slipped the leash into her bag and started downhill. At least this was an actual road, not just overgrown ruts. Juni trotted a few yards in front, her head held high.
Trees, trees, and more trees. Kat took care to walk in the exact center of the narrow road, as far away as she could get from the little rustling noises on both sides. Patches of dead trees edged the gravel, stripped of greenery like weathered skeletons, yet another harsh symptom of the drought. Malcolm’s warnings of the fire risk came to mind, and she shrugged them to one side. Officials tended to be overly cautious, always predicting worst-case scenarios. The odds of a fire were probably low.
Kat had envisioned a mountain retreat as the perfect place for some clear thinking, a reminder of better days with Jim, but she hadn’t counted on feeling quite so unsettled. The dog glanced her way occasionally, but Juni’s presence wasn’t as comforting as she would have hoped. “Fine protector you are.” Maybe Sara was right. Maybe it was a mistake to have come.
She set aside her second-guessing and focused on their progress. Steep switchbacks led downhill for fifteen minutes; then they crossed a narrow wooden bridge that spanned a steep-sided gully. Once a stream had run here, but now there were only dust and smooth pebbles to mark where the water had flowed. The bridge’s sun-dried planks creaked under Kat’s weight, which did nothing to inspire confidence.
She was probably worrying about nothing, but she was relieved to put the bridge behind her. A short while later, she reached a level stretch. Juni stopped, set her ball down for a moment to bark, picked it up, and raced ahead.
Kat hurried to catch up. They’d reached the other two cottages that shared her road. On the left, a nondescript blue cottage had a snazzy-looking silver two-door BMW parked in front. That must be where Malcolm and Nirav were staying. Opposite stood a pretty yellow cottage with a front border of bright red and purple tulips. A shaded porch held a white porch swing. It all looked homey and happy, nothing like her own bland rental, and Kat shrugged off a wave of envy. She drew closer and only then realized the tulips were molded plastic.
Juni lunged forward. Kat tried to grab her, regretting that she hadn’t learned her lesson the first time, but the idiot dog evaded her grasp and jumped onto the porch, tail wagging.
“Hey, where’d you come from?” A young girl moved out of the shadows and into the sun where Kat could see her. Thin, tan, and graceful, with short, dyed-orange hair and clashing pink lipstick. Twelve, maybe thirteen. She offered a quick, uncomplicated smile.
Kat smiled back. “Hi. Sorry. I should have had her on her leash.”
The girl knelt in front of Juni, a book in her hand, and the dog dropped her ball and licked the girl’s face. She laughed and wiped her cheek. “That’s okay. I like dogs.”
She wore a pair of faded jeans that looked just right for the woods and a pale-green sleeveless top with crocheted trim that l
ooked drastically out of place. Silver glitter on her fingernails sparkled as she stroked the dog.
“I’m Mrs. er …” Kat caught herself. This was not one of her English lit students. “I’m Kat. I’m staying in the house at the end. This is Juni.”
“I’m Lily.” The girl handed the ball back to the Lab and stood. “I’ve never met a dog who carried her own toys.” She sounded impressed.
“She’s been taught well, that’s for sure.” So far, Sara hadn’t been totally wrong about that. “Not by me.”
Lily scuffed the toe of one tennis shoe along the porch floorboards. “I don’t have a dog. Mom says they’re dirty.”
Kat started to say she’d never had a dog before, either, but the door behind Lily swung open, and a man stepped into the doorway.
“Lily, you shouldn’t play with strange dogs.” His hand on her shoulder drew her away from Juni.
Lily set her jaw, but she let herself be shifted.
The man stepped forward, off the porch. He stopped at the right distance—close enough to be understood, but too far away to be intimidating. Kat noticed details like that more often with Jim gone. He looked about thirty, Sara’s age, and he wore faded jeans with holes in the knees and a Georgia Tech T-shirt. Dark wavy hair hid his ears, and wire-rimmed glasses magnified his thin face, making him look boyish and nerdy. His dark-brown eyes and the shape of his chin were an exact match for Lily’s.
Juni wagged her tail and offered him her ball, either a stamp of approval or further evidence that she was no guard dog.
“I’m Scott Bradford.” He inspected Kat with an up-and-down look that appeared to file every detail. “And this is my daughter, Lily.”
“Kat Jamison.” She stepped forward for a quick, neutral handshake. “I’m your new neighbor. Up the road. The cottage called Mountain Ease.”
“You’ve got the cottage with the great view. Lily and I walked up there yesterday.”
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