“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing. And the way you’ve been grumping at everyone the past few days, it sure doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“We’ve been swamped.” He ran his hands through his hair. “The event’s in two days and we’ve got animals coming out of the woodwork. That’s all.”
“Have you seen Lainey since the weekend?”
“No,” he ground out. “She hasn’t been around here.”
“Can you blame her?”
He leveled a look at her. “How is this my fault?”
Her lips thinned. “Tim Reynolds is a jerk. I get that he’s your friend and you needed to share all that stuff with someone, but for him to publish that junk and pass it off like Lainey wrote it—”
“Hold on a minute.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes you think Lainey didn’t write it? Tim couldn’t have gotten the information from me. I didn’t know most of it until I read it in the paper.”
“She told me she had nothing to do with it, and I believe her. She has no reason to lie.” Steph’s eyes narrowed. “And you have a pretty sad memory, Ethan. I saw the note she left the day of the wedding. Maybe she should have told you in person, but she was too scared of your reaction.” She leaned back against the door and sighed. “I picked her up at the hotel when you didn’t come. She was a total wreck. I think waiting and wondering made it worse for her in the end.”
“I’m sick of hearing about the stupid note, Steph.” He stepped behind his desk. “I got a half piece of paper with a few typed sentences on it.” His eyes drifted shut as he remembered the words that had ruined his life. “‘It’s not worth it,’ she wrote. ‘I don’t need you and I don’t want a life with you.’” His eyes snapped open. “Doesn’t get much clearer than that.”
Her jaw dropped. “Where did you get the letter that day?” she asked softly.
“Tim brought it to me. She’d left it at the church.”
“Her note didn’t say that. And she didn’t leave it. She gave it to Tim—sealed so no one but you would read it—and asked him to deliver it to you.”
He stood, pressure building in his lungs. “What are you talking about?”
“Her note was handwritten, Ethan. I know they had a typewriter in the church office, but she didn’t use it. She explained everything about the complications from the miscarriage. She thought you were only marrying her because you’d already committed to it and if she’d told you about her infertility you’d feel responsible for that, too.”
“Of course I would have.”
“She didn’t want that,” Steph said, shaking her head. “She didn’t want to trap you.”
“I made the choice.”
“She wanted you to choose her for her, not because of an obligation. She got a room in Charlotte. You were supposed to meet her there. If you didn’t come, she’d know you didn’t want her.”
“That’s not what the note I read said.”
Steph looked confused. “I saw her write it, Ethan. She handed it to Tim. The only explanation is that he typed a different letter and switched them. But why—”
“No!” He pressed his palms on to the desk. It made him sick to think what Lainey must have gone through when she’d left. What she’d believed about him, how alone she’d been. No wonder she’d never settled down. He could imagine how his rejection had haunted her. He didn’t know if he could have made it better that day, but he sure as hell would have tried. “Tim left town. I stopped by the paper yesterday. The receptionist told me he went to Atlanta for a few days.”
“You guys are—were—friends.” Steph shook her head. “I know it was mainly because he’s Dave’s little brother, but changing the note is plain evil. Why would he have done that?”
Ethan shrugged. “I have no clue, but you better believe I’m going to find out.”
“I don’t know why Lainey hung out with him,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “He always looked at her kind of moony.” Steph paused. “Like the way she looked at you. Maybe he was in love with her the whole time.”
“I have to talk to her. She thinks—” Ethan scrubbed his hands over his face. A small glimmer of hope emerged out of the dark shadows of his heart. Lainey hadn’t deserted him all those years ago. At least not like he’d thought. She’d wanted him. Maybe she wanted him now....
“She’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“She left for Alaska this morning,” Steph said apologetically. “She called on her way to the airport. A photo shoot with birds or something.”
“The event is this weekend.”
Steph lifted her palms in the air. “She told me she worked out the details with Vera before she left and delegated all the outstanding stuff. She’s going to have her cell phone with her.”
“She ran away again,” he muttered.
“Maybe she didn’t feel like she had a choice.”
He didn’t want to hear excuses. “We all have choices. Some people make bad ones.” Ethan let disappointment begin to rebuild his defenses. He’d wanted to believe in Lainey. He’d held back his heart, blamed himself for the distance between them. Screw that. She wouldn’t stay and fight for their relationship. If that was how little she cared, why should he be any different?
He sank into his chair, forcing his hand steady as he reached for a stack of papers. “I’ve got to work on these charts.”
“I’m sorry, Ethan,” Steph whispered and walked out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
Lainey scrambled up the loose rocks on the side of the mountain, deep in the Alaskan wilderness. It had taken her almost twenty-four hours to get to the location, and other than a few hours on the plane between Denver and Anchorage, she hadn’t slept since leaving Brevia. Normally, a few minutes in nature were enough to put her in the zone, but she couldn’t shake the slightly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She pulled the parka she’d bought in the Denver airport more tightly around her. After the heat and humidity of North Carolina, she felt especially sensitive to the cool, crisp air of the Awapia National Forest.
She waved at Tom Roper, the reporter from National Geographic covering the story. He lifted a hand but scowled and continued his cell phone conversation.
“How do you get coverage out here?” she asked as she approached.
He pocketed the phone. “It’s satellite.” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Listen, Lainey, I’m sorry to make you come all this way, but I think it’s a lost cause.”
She looked around. “What’s the problem?”
He pointed to a tall pine tree jutting off from a ledge across the valley from where they stood. “Take a look,” he said, handing her a pair of binoculars.
She pushed her hair behind her ears and trained the lenses on the pine tree. Adjusting the focus, she studied a medium-sized nest made of twigs and mud midway up the tree and buried deep in the branches. “It’ll be a tough shot,” she said, lowering the binoculars and scanning the area. “But not impossible. If I can set up near the—”
“It’s not the right bird,” Tom interrupted.
“What?” She raised the binoculars again. A red-feathered head peeked out of the nest. “It looks like the pictures you faxed me.”
Tom shook his head. “The bird is right. The babies aren’t.”
“I don’t get it.”
“The story was the Murrelet, which is on the verge of extinction, having a nest full of eggs.”
“Right,” she agreed, not following his logic.
He grabbed a book from on top of the backpack that sat near his tent opening. “This is its nest.” He pointed to a picture of an oval-shaped mass of leaves and grass. “That,” he said, inclining his head toward the pine tree, “is a warbler’s nest with baby war
blers in it.”
She squinted against the bright sunlight and stared at the tree. “Then why is a Kittlitz’s Murrelet with the wrong baby birds?”
“Apparently, birdbrained isn’t just a figure of speech. The stupid Murrelet doesn’t seem to know it’s not hers.”
“Where’s the warbler?”
“Who knows?” He shrugged. “Fox food probably. But that Murrelet isn’t going to help population issues by feeding warbler chicks. Those birds are a dime a dozen up here.”
Lainey raised the binoculars again and focused on the pine tree. The nest looked empty until a flash of red came into view. The Murrelet landed on the edge with a small insect clamped in its beak. Three tiny brown and white heads poked up, all clamoring for the morsel. The Murrelet dropped the insect into one waiting beak and took off again.
Lainey’s mouth went dry and her skin tingled. “That’s the story.”
Tom stared at her. “There is no story.”
“How many times do you find deserted nests?”
“Enough.”
“How many times do you see an animal or bird adopting orphaned babies?”
He shaded his eyes and turned toward the pine tree. “You don’t.”
“But we are.” Lainey pulled her backpack off and dug through it for her camera. “I don’t know why the Murrelet isn’t laying her own eggs.” She attached a telephoto lens to the end of her camera. “But I can tell you it’s amazing to watch that bird’s determination to have a family of her own. It’s a miracle. And I’m not the only one who will think it.”
Tom nodded slowly. “I get it.”
Lainey sighed. “Me, too. Finally.”
* * *
By the time Ethan pulled his truck into the driveway at the lake house, it was close to midnight. The adoption fair was tomorrow, and he’d spent every waking hour for the past few days at the shelter getting things ready. He knew the event would be a success by the phone calls and emails they’d already received from people interested in adopting. He also knew that Lainey deserved most of the credit for the way she’d organized volunteers and publicized the event.
The anger that had crowded out every other emotion when he’d discovered she’d left again had been replaced by a dull ache in his chest whenever he thought of her. She’d once again become the North Star in his life, and the pain of losing her was no easier to bear the second time around. Especially knowing it could have been different ten years ago and wondering if he could have changed the outcome this summer.
Even his dream home seemed empty without her in it. That first night, he’d come close to throwing every piece of furniture into a huge bonfire when her smell seemed to linger in each room. As if he could burn away her memory.
He climbed the front porch steps slowly then noticed that the door stood wide open. It was one thing to joke about burning his stuff, another to have it stolen. He raced into the house but stopped short at the sight of a cigarette glowing in the darkness. “Dad,” he murmured.
“I hope you don’t mind I stopped by to check out the new pad.” Ray took a pull from his beer bottle. “I have to admit you did a pretty fine job with it.”
Ethan dropped his keys to the coffee table and crossed his arms over his chest. A run in with his father was the last thing he needed. “Couldn’t resist a good gloat?”
Ray flashed a self-satisfied grin. “I’m not one to say I told you so, but—”
“Save it.” Ethan turned toward the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten since having a Pop-Tart this morning. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow and need some sleep.”
“What’s Lainey’s connection with Tim Reynolds?”
Ethan pulled a carton of leftover kung pao out of the fridge. “They went to high school together. I don’t know. Isn’t Brevia one big screwed up family at the core?”
“Why do you think she told him all that stuff?”
“I don’t think she did.”
Ray gave a gruff laugh. “I can’t see you laying your soul bare to Dave’s twerpy little brother.”
“I guess Tim switched the note Lainey left for me for a different one, the one I actually read.” Ethan scrubbed his palm across his face. “What’s it matter now?”
“It might if you knew the whole story. I’m heading down to Florida in a couple of days. Maybe you want to help your old man out with some gas money? I can make it worth your while.”
Ethan hissed out an angry breath. “The only time I see you is when you need something, Dad. I’m done being used. By anyone.”
“You may not feel that way if you hear me out. How much do you remember about Dave and Tim’s mother?”
Ethan turned, fork in midair. “She was kind of a train wreck. Drank a lot, string of loser boyfriends after their dad left town.” His eyes narrowed as unease pricked his spine. “Why?”
“Diane Reynolds was a firecracker in her day. She waitressed at the bar where a few of us hung out. Right about the time she and her husband separated and your mom and I were on the skids. Things happened.”
“What kind of things?”
Ray wiggled his heavy eyebrows. “Crazy things, son.” He whistled low. “Like I said, she was a firecracker.”
“You cheated on Mom with Dave’s mother?”
“Your mother was one foot out the door already.”
“I thought she left because being a mother was too much to handle. You let me believe it was my fault.”
Ray shrugged. “Who knows what would have happened if it had just been the two of us. We had some good times at the beginning, your mom and me.”
Ethan tossed his food into the garbage can and the fork into the sink, his appetite gone. He’d spent years believing that he was the reason his mother had deserted them. It had shaped so much of who he was—his inability to trust people, to be vulnerable. He’d never wanted to risk that kind of pain again.
“Does Dave know?” How could his best friend of almost two decades not tell him something like this?
“I don’t think so,” Ray said then grimaced. “Tim is another story. He walked in on us along with his dad. I guess there had been talk of a reconciliation, but our little deal ended it. Diane made him promise not to tell you or Dave. I guess he kept his word. The divorce went through right after that.”
Ethan felt his jaw drop. “No wonder Tim hated me. All those years of pretending things were fine when he knew you’d destroyed his family.”
Ray jumped to his feet. “Destroy is a mighty strong word, Ethan.”
“That’s what you did. You destroyed their family and in turn, Tim took his revenge on me. And Lainey got hurt in the process.”
“I didn’t think—”
“That’s always been your problem, but it doesn’t fly as an excuse.” Ethan felt his world tilt. All those things he’d never said, he’d never let himself feel...
He took a step toward his father and pointed to the front door. “I’m not giving you a penny tonight or ever again. Leave. Now. And this time don’t come back.”
“I’m helping you here. I didn’t have to do this. You’re picking a skirt over your own flesh and blood?” Ray asked as he walked to the door, his voice a little desperate. “Think about it, son.”
“We’re done, Ray. No more unexpected visits, no more phone calls when you’re between jobs. We’re done.” Ethan slammed the door on his father with no regrets.
* * *
Lainey parked her rental car almost a quarter-mile down the road from the shelter then walked with a steady stream of people headed for the adoption fair.
Stopping midstride, her heart filled as families and couples came down the driveway leading dogs or holding cardboard boxes with new pets they were taking home. She recognized some of the animals, and while it was bittersweet to see the ones she’d come to love leavi
ng, her heart swelled to see them going to true homes.
She’d been so scarred by the miscarriage and its aftermath, she’d believed she wasn’t worthy of the role she wanted most in the world. But biology didn’t make a person a mother or create a family—only love could do that. There were many, many children in the world who needed homes, who needed the love that Lainey now knew she could give.
“Lainey!”
She turned at the sound of her name.
“I knew you’d come back,” her mother said, still limping as she hurried across the yard while Julia followed behind. “Do you know we’ve doubled the amount of adoptions from last year?”
Lainey turned to her sister. “Where’s Charlie?”
“He’s napping in the shelter office. Ida Vassler’s with him. Turns out the old battle-ax has a soft spot for babies.”
“Do you feel okay, Mom?” Lainey asked. “You’re not overdoing it?”
“I feel better than I have in years. This is exactly what your father would have wanted to see.” Vera took a deep breath. “It’s all because of your work.”
Lainey glanced at Julia. “Everyone pitched in to make it a success. The shelter and clinic staff, Julia, Ethan...” Her voice trailed off.
“What happened in Alaska?” her mother asked softly.
Lainey’s throat clogged with emotion, but she only shrugged. “The usual. I took some pictures, met with—”
“What really happened?” Julia interrupted. “When you left, it didn’t seem like you’d be back at all, let alone for the event. Your message yesterday only said you’d be here and we needed to talk. I imagine there’s a pretty good reason.”
It had been a whirlwind week, and Lainey was running on pure adrenaline at this point. Not exactly the clear mind-set in which she’d prefer to have this conversation. But one thing she knew for certain: no more running away. She’d face whatever challenges life threw at her head-on with no regrets. She swallowed and began, “I want to apologize to you both.”
Her mother waved a hand. “We’re moving forward, Melanie. No need—”
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