by Jean Oram
And there was nothing from Scott about whether he thought she was ready, and Amber was at a loss about how she could prove her love to him.
She had nothing, nothing, nothing.
She didn’t even have waitressing to eat up her spare time, and oddly enough, she missed serving at Benny’s. The place had always been like a second home to her, and the staff and regular customers like family. Working there had been similar to a homecoming once she’d gotten over her initial feeling of being overwhelmed. At Benny’s she’d been an expert. She’d had authority. People took her suggestions and trusted her. She was somebody.
In the least likely of places—Blueberry Springs, as a waitress—she had found what she’d always been seeking. Well, a good portion of it, anyway.
She still hadn’t fully wrapped her head around it, but she understood why her mother had stayed. And the tips had been pretty good, too. Although part of that may have been people believing Amber had not only lost her boyfriend, but her job, too, and were trying to express their sympathy and support.
But she was still missing a piece in her understanding of herself, her life, and she didn’t know how to find it. Fix it. Get what she wanted.
Scott.
Her family. Sister, father. The works.
She needed a plan. She needed…
Amber sighed.
She needed Blueberry Springs.
She didn’t know what she was looking for, only that she’d likely find it in town.
Climbing into the golf cart, she turned the key. Nothing. Not even a click. It couldn’t be out of gas. It had to be the battery, or the starter. She jiggled the battery connection and tried again. Still nothing. Mandy’s fiancé, Frankie, had once said something about solenoid when Mandy’s 4x4 refused to start. Not that Amber had any clue what that meant. Only that something had to be tapped or replaced, or required some magical mumbo-jumbo that probably involved incantations chanted with one’s eyes crossed while waving a special wrench over the engine.
Which meant Amber was walking to town.
Actually, she should jog. She was rebuilding herself, right? She should exercise. Too much time in front of the keyboard wasn’t good for her butt. Back in the house she changed into her favorite pair of sneakers and tied them nice and tight. It was a gorgeous day, with the meadows and hills turning green, contrasting against the rocky cliffs, and looking like something from a magazine. The clouds seemed impossibly high in the sky as she jogged down the short gravel driveway, then skipped out on to the road that led to town. So far, so good. She felt springy and spry. It was easy. She could practically see a new Amber developing as she ran. Toned arms, slim waist, and a butt to die for.
A few feet down the road she developed a stitch in her side and her breathing became jagged. She glanced back at the distance she had come. The house still looked big, barely more than a stone’s throw away.
She continued along, trying to work out the cramp as her mind flitted over all the things in her life that weren’t lining up the way she wanted. A familiar panicky feeling made it harder to breathe, and she slowed to a walk before finally placing her hands on her knees and bending over, gasping.
This couldn’t be her life.
It couldn’t be.
She’d gone from a single child and girlfriend of a minor local celebrity to a spectacle with more family secrets than Blueberry Springs had rumors.
She began moving again at a slow trot, paying special attention to her breathing, trying to find balance. She could fix this. She could get the life she wanted. Delia had done it. So could Amber. It was within reach. Possible.
As she neared town, a vehicle pulled up alongside her. It was Mary Alice and a woman everyone knew as Gran.
“Need a ride?” Mary Alice asked, window down.
“Just walking, thanks,” Amber said, trying not to sound too out of breath while doing a half jog, half walk. She probably looked as though she was trying to hustle herself to a washroom before disaster struck.
“It seems like you’re in a hurry.”
“Just exercising.” She continued moving, attempting to seem relaxed as Mary Alice drove slowly alongside.
“I saw you on the news,” Gran said. “Everyone keeps saying the book’s not about you, although I found it strikingly similar. Well, except for you and Scott, of course.”
Amber stopped, hands on her hips, her lungs searing with pain. “Yeah?”
“You need to make a big scene like Mandy did. No man can say no to a grand declaration of love,” Gran advised, and Mary Alice nodded thoughtfully in agreement.
That could be true. The dress hadn’t worked, but Jen had admitted it hadn’t been a large part of her snagging Rob, either. But Mandy had engaged in a grand act that had definitely showed Frankie the depth of her intent.
Which meant Amber needed to talk to her friend.
“Who was that woman with you the other day?” Mary Alice asked. “She looks so much like your mother did at that age.”
“Long lost relative,” Amber said as she picked up her speed, hoping to leave the car behind. Instead, it sped up and kept pace.
She needed to get to Blueberry Springs. Needed to pick Mandy’s brain. Not get sucked into revealing gossip about herself, her mother, her life.
“Sister, perhaps?” Mary Alice asked with a pointed look.
“You should wear one of those special bras,” Gran suggested. “You know, the kind that give you one boob. What are they called? Sort of smashes it all so it doesn’t bounce up and give you a black eye.”
“It’s called a sports bra,” Amber said. She turned to the car. “Can I catch a ride?”
“Will you tell me who Delia is?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Mary Alice sighed and stopped to let her in. “No point wearing out the soles of a perfectly good pair of shoes. I’ll figure out who she is one way or another.”
That was what Amber feared—and that her mother wasn’t prepared for her secret to be exposed.
“Mary Alice, let it go. She’s just a distant relative.”
“Sister?” she pressed.
Amber sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically, as though Mary Alice was so off base it wasn’t even worth responding.
“You need to support those girls if you’re going to keep up with that thing you’re doing out there, Amber Lynn,” Gran continued. “They’re bouncing all over the place and you’re going to give yourself a brain injury.”
“I think shoulder checking would give me greater danger.” Amber gestured to her backside, which had been bouncing right along with her chest, and Gran let out a laugh rich with amusement.
“Drop me off at Mandy’s if you can.”
“One grand gesture coming up!” Mary Alice said, putting the car in gear. “If you won’t tell me about your long-lost sister Delia, tell me about your mother. What happened on that trip of hers?”
“Who is Delia?” Gran asked. “I thought Amber was looking for her father. What happened to that family of yours, anyway?”
Amber sat back in the plush seat, wondering that same thing herself.
And what had happened on the cruise? Had her mother fallen in love with her ex once again? Or had she simply enjoyed her first trip away and was recharged from having someone else wait on her instead of the other way around?
“Looks like Gloria is in love,” Mary Alice said knowingly.
If she was, it was with John. Amber found it hard to wrap her mind around that one.
If anything had happened on the cruise and her mother hadn’t said anything to anyone, then that was yet another secret Amber would never unearth unless her mom was ready. And right now it seemed as though she would never be ready to show Amber her life, her past. The secrets Amber had already exposed were starting to undermine her ability to move on, get her life together and be with Scott. Instead of solving her problems, it felt as though they were only complicating them.
“I heard you hate your father,” Gran said. “I don’
t think he’s going to pop out of the woodwork if he’s heard that, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Not after over twenty years,” Mary Alice added.
“It’s okay—he doesn’t live in town. And he doesn’t know I’m his.”
In fact, maybe he would remain a secret. Because, as Amber was beginning to understand, sometimes things were complicated and best not unearthed unless all parties were ready.
* * *
“Mandy?” Amber called, pushing through the glass door into her friend’s restaurant. She was feeling determined after her run down the mountain. She couldn’t force her mother to do anything, and even though it had been only a few weeks, she was tired of waiting to hear everything about her family, and placing her life on hold as a result.
Would it make a massive difference in her world if she knew who her father was? Probably not.
As for Delia, she had simply told her that she was working things out with their mother and would be in touch when the timing was right. And her sister had understood.
“Hey, Amber,” one of Mandy’s brothers, Ethan, said from behind the cash register. “Looking for my sister?”
Amber nodded, snatching a brownie from under a glass dome and leaving a few crumpled bills on the counter. She might have to wait for her mother, but she didn’t have to wait for love. She would figure out how to make a grand gesture and would have her best friend, Scott, in her arms by the end of the night if it killed her.
“She’s in the back doing the books,” Ethan said, jerking a thumb toward the kitchen.
“Better than doing Frankie,” Amber joked, heading to the swinging doors. “It would be awkward walking in on that.”
Ethan shuddered in reply.
Amber found her friend working in the small office off her kitchen, forehead furrowed as she typed on her computer, glancing from time to time at the stack of papers to her left.
“Hi,” Amber said. “Question for you?”
“The cost of butter? How much my electricity usage has increased in the past three months? I know the answers to those at the moment.” She pushed her hair up into a loose knot on the top of her head, then released it as she sat back in her chair. “I really need a better system.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. I have a couple of options figured out for you for keeping track of things. I’ll email them, or get together if you want.”
“Great. Thanks. Hey, how’d the dress go over?”
“It didn’t.”
“Aww.” Her friend looked genuinely bothered, and Amber felt the sting of rejection as freshly as if it had happened again.
“Do you have any leftover spray paint?”
“From giving this place a makeover?” Mandy asked, moving past Amber to check the storage room. She was wearing washed-and-worn designer jeans that fitted her contours in a way that would cause Amber to sell her family secrets to the press if she could obtain the same results.
Okay, maybe not the best analogy, she thought, crossing her arms.
“Whatever you have and don’t need.”
Now that she was here, she didn’t want to mention Mandy’s grand gesture, which had led to her spray painting her declaration of love for her now-fiancé on the town’s water tower. Amber had a feeling her friend would put two and two together and try to stop her. Mandy’s little stunt had got her apprehended by Scott, and led to her having to repaint the entire tower. But it had also snagged Frankie’s undying love.
In Amber’s mind, the cost-benefit analysis came out in favor of spray painting the tower.
Mandy gave her a long look before riffling through her supply closet. “I have this.” She shook a can of spray paint. “About a third left. Want it?”
Amber held the can against her chest. “Thank you.”
Mandy faced her, hands on her hips. “What are you going to do with it?”
She shrugged.
“Amber Lynn!” Mandy hauled her back into her office and shut the door, making Amber feel immediately claustrophobic in the tiny space. “You had better not be planning to do what I think you’re planning to do!”
“Nothing. I’m not. Nothing.” She was stuttering. She was so bad at keeping secrets. No wonder everyone was already figuring out who Delia was.
“You so are!”
Amber waved, paint tucked under her arm, as she hustled out the office before her friend could change her mind for her.
“There are other ways. Ways that are legal,” Mandy called after her.
Yeah, and they hadn’t worked. She was desperate. She needed to do something. Take action. She couldn’t live like this any longer. One more day without Scott was one day too long.
Amber strode back into the office. “Don’t. Tell. Scott.”
Mandy’s shoulders slumped. “Having to repaint that water tower wasn’t fun, Amber. If the town hadn’t helped me out I’d still be up there and still picking specks of aquamarine off my skin.”
“Who said anything about painting the water tower?” Amber said, a new idea blossoming in her mind.
* * *
Mandy had been totally onto her. Well, sort of.
She had planned to spray paint her initials along with Scott’s on the tower. But after talking to her friend she’d decided to paint arrows on the road, each one leading Scott closer and closer to a spot in town where Amber would be waiting with a brilliant declaration of love, and possibly roses.
But in the end, she’d lost faith in herself and had gone with the old standby—the water tower.
However, once Amber was up on the tower, with the wind whipping down the mountainside and the town spread out below her, it seemed more like a stupid, spontaneous idea that would cause more problems than it would solve. A police officer who was applying for a promotion wouldn’t hook up with a vandal. Plus everyone would know it had been her, which would leave Scott in an awkward position if he didn’t arrest her. You didn’t put the man you loved in a position like that.
Amber sighed, tears leaking out she as leaned against the cold metal water tank, her legs spread out in front of her on the walkway. She idly turned the spray can from end to end, making the marble inside clang as it moved. From up here she could see the shadowy forms of people walking down Main Street, pausing to chat and laugh with each other as the streetlights came on. She could see folks out in their yards, heading inside for their favorite television shows, and trailing in from bike rides and hikes through the meadow just outside of town before it grew too dark to see. On the other side of the tower, she’d be able to see up the mountain to where she lived. Her whole world was spread out in front of her, and although it wasn’t very large, for the first time the idea didn’t bother her as much as she thought it should.
Amber swiped at her damp cheeks as she heard the clanging of boots coming up the steel ladder that led to the walkway where she was sitting. She glanced through the opening and saw Scott powering his way up as though he climbed five-story ladders every day. His shoulders bunched and flexed under his light police jacket as he moved, his chest so broad and strong it made her long to feel it.
“Come to enjoy the view?” she asked when he wordlessly sat beside her, barely out of breath despite the speed of his ascent.
He eyed the spray can, then glanced behind them at the pristine, unpainted surface. He seemed relieved.
Amber set down the can. She’d done it. She’d thought of Scott before her own desire to be seen and heard. That had to be something.
But was it enough?
“What?” Scott asked. He was handsome, aware, and watching her in a way that made her feel seen. He would listen to whatever she needed to say because that’s who he was. Her Scott.
She shifted to face him. A cool wind whipped down the mountain, stirring her hair into a cloud around her head. Her lips met Scott’s and she savored the way his mouth was warm and giving—like him. As they continued he deepened the kiss, and Amber froze, uncertain whether she could keep up with him. If she could
reciprocate on the same level. How could she ever be enough woman for a man such as Scott.
His hand went to her waist, and instead of shrinking back from the touch, she pressed against him, testing herself and her own limits. She trusted this man in a way she didn’t trust anyone else on planet earth.
They kissed as though the world couldn’t see them in the dusky evening, high up on the water tower.
Then Scott broke the kiss.
“You need someone you can trust.” His voice was low, gravelly.
It almost sounded as though he was about to break up with her, but they weren’t even together.
“Someone who is going to move at your speed. Who knows what you like. What you don’t like. Someone who puts you at ease. Someone who loves you despite your mistakes.”
She was still cradling his jaw from the kiss, but he leaned away, forcing her to release him or fall in his lap.
“What?” she whispered.
He watched her for a long moment, then gently laid kisses across her forehead in a way that was both heavy with sorrow and teasingly erotic.
“Not yet.” He cupped her head near her ear, keeping her close. She looked into familiar, kind eyes, her body begging to get more of what Scott had to offer.
“Not yet?” she echoed, pressing her hands against his firm chest, wishing she could wrap them around his neck, taste his skin, and for it to be okay.
“Not yet.”
Amber blinked back tears of frustration and rejection. Was he ever going to say yes? How much longer could she bear hearing no?
“I’m looking for a forever woman. A woman ready to commit.”
Her heart stuttered and her voice left her. He wanted forever. They hadn’t even done more than give each other a passionate kiss. How could he be so certain? How could he ask for more than she could offer? More than she had?
“That still makes you nervous, doesn’t it?”
“Can’t we just date for a while and then worry about forever later?”
He caressed her cheek in a way that sent shivers through her veins and made her body want to take up the cha-cha with his.
She’d come this close to kissing him on Valentine’s Day, because it had felt so right to be in his arms. Scott was always there and she could barely imagine life without him. But she was scared. Scared she was going to screw it up and lose not only a boyfriend, but her best friend. Forever was a very long time and was moving faster than the speed of light.