The crunch of tires on the driveway prompted her to glance over her shoulder then leap to her feet. “Crap!” One look at her watch assured her Ryan was right on time. Where the hell had the morning disappeared to? After dropping the pile of weeds into a basket, she hustled around the side of the house and waved.
He stepped out of his Jeep and smiled then raised a brow. “You’re hiking in that?”
Leah glanced down at one of the baggy, long-sleeved dress shirts she’d salvaged when her grandma had packed up her grandpa’s clothes after he passed, ancient jeans, and plastic sandals. “I need to change. I was gardening and lost track of time.” She pulled off her gloves then pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Give me five minutes.”
“No problem.” He bent to pet Barney when her dog loped over to lean against his leg. “I won’t time you.”
“Come on in and make yourself at home.” She dropped the bucket of weeds in the carport, then led the way to the back door and held open the screen. “You know where everything is, since nothing’s changed much in the last few decades.”
“Except us.” He stepped into the huge kitchen that had seen three generations of Grayson women turn out meals served at the long wooden table. Nothing was modern about the room except the microwave on the counter. “The place looks the same.”
“As Grandma always says, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ ” She waved a hand toward the white enamel refrigerator and matching stove. “Back in the day, they made appliances to last a lifetime, not ten years.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” He pulled out a chair at the table and sat. “Go change so we can get moving. The route I want to hike will take us at least a couple of hours round trip.”
With a nod, she bolted from the room. Two hours? He must not be nervous about making conversation. She pulled off her shirt and tossed it toward the laundry basket in the corner of her bedroom. It missed, but she didn’t stop to pick it up as she hurried to the dresser to pull out shorts and a T-shirt.
Fine. I won’t worry about it, either.
She scrubbed the dirt out from beneath her fingernails, washed her face, then slapped on sunscreen, dressed, and braided her hair. She was ready in just under twelve minutes. Not bad.
Ryan glanced up from his phone when she entered the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind I connected to your Wi-Fi to check my mail. The service here isn’t great.”
Leah picked a water bottle up off the counter and filled it then turned with a frown. “How’d you know the password? Did you take Hacking 101 in college?”
“I tried your birthday then your dog’s name. Only two attempts to get it right. No hacking skills required.”
She rolled her eyes before sorting through the pile of odds and ends on a bench beside the door to lift out a day pack she filled with snacks and the water bottle, then swung it over her shoulder. “Okay, I’m all set.”
“Great.” He stood to join her. “I thought we’d head up to Cloven Ridge since we can hike straight from here.”
“And the views are spectacular. Good choice.” She shut the door behind them and whistled for Barney. “Let’s go, boy.”
Her dog raced around the back of the house and headed down the driveway.
Ryan paused to pull a sturdy canvas rucksack out of his Jeep. “Ready?”
“Yep.” Leah snapped her fingers. “Heel, Barney. I don’t want you running out in front of a car when we get to the highway.”
They crossed the main road to the hiking path leading straight into the woods, with Barney bounding ahead. The trail climbed steadily through a dense forest of fir, madrone, and huckleberry bushes.
Leah breathed deeply of the moist, earth scent and sighed in pleasure. “I always associate this smell with home. Do you ever miss living here?”
“Sometimes. More so during the years I spent in Portland after college. I love Central Oregon, though. The woods around my house aren’t as thick as these, nor as humid, but the rock climbing in the area is unbeatable.”
“Interesting.” She was slightly breathless as the pitch of their ascent increased. “You moved to Sisters in order to climb?”
He nodded. “Climbing’s my thing, but I also enjoy bouldering, hiking, and mountain biking.” He shrugged. “Whatever gets me outdoors.”
“All solitary activities, for the most part. You never cared much for team sports when we were kids, either.” She took a couple of running steps to walk next to him as the trail widened and flattened out. “You hated baseball the one summer you played Little League.”
“Obviously there’s nothing wrong with your memory.”
“Nope. You tried to bribe me to join the team, just to keep you company.”
“But instead, you took a gymnastics class with Nina and Paige. Wait, how’d that work out for you?”
She returned his broad grin. “Broken leg after falling off the balance beam. Apparently, coordination isn’t my thing.” The nervous tension drained out of her. “Wow, maybe hanging out together wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.”
“Huh?” He motioned for her to go ahead as the trail narrowed to cross a stream. “What do you mean?”
She hopped from one rock to the next to keep her feet dry. “Honestly, I was a little worried our conversation would be stilted, but this is . . . nice. More than anything else, I missed our easy friendship after—”
“You dumped me?” He kicked a fir cone out of the path. “It’s been twelve years. I hope I’m man enough not to carry a grudge that long.” His gaze cooled as he gave her an up-and-down glance. “You may have been my first love, but you weren’t my last.”
The neat jab hit its mark, and Leah pressed a hand to the sudden sharp pain in her chest. Of course he’d loved other women. Time hadn’t frozen when they’d gone their separate ways. The only real surprise was the fact he wasn’t at least engaged—
When she stopped abruptly, Ryan smacked into her back. He wrapped one arm around her waist to keep from knocking her over, and his breath brushed her ear.
“Geez, warn a guy before you dig in your heels.”
“Sorry.” Her cheeks heated, and she stepped away when he released her. But not before the contact sent an odd little quiver through her. He smelled the way she remembered, earthy with a hint of spice.
“Did you see a snake or something?” He held back a branch. “This section of the trail is pretty overgrown.”
“I don’t think many people come up here. No, I was just wondering . . .” Words she couldn’t seem to control blurted out. “Why aren’t you married? Last time I got my teeth cleaned, I was flipping through a regional magazine and saw your name on a top ten list of eligible Oregon bachelors. Or maybe there’s someone waiting at home for you I didn’t hear about.” She stuttered to a halt, feeling like an idiot for even asking. “Not my business. Forget I opened my big mouth.”
“No, it’s a fair question. For years my sole focus was work. Women tend to get irritated when you stand them up over code issues.” His lips twisted. “I was a classic workaholic.”
Forcing her feet to move, she continued up the trail ahead of him. “You have more time now.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Apparently he didn’t intend to elaborate, but she couldn’t let the subject drop. “I hope suggesting we hike together didn’t put you in an awkward position . . .”
“My last relationship ended not long ago, if that’s the information you’re fishing for.”
Her neck prickled with embarrassment, and she picked up her pace. “This isn’t a date or anything, but still . . . After what I went through with Brock, I wouldn’t want some other woman to even think I was trying to poach her man.”
“You didn’t take his name.”
He spoke so low, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “Excuse me?”
“You’re still Leah Grayson.”
“Yeah. I was going to change it, but . . . When I was standing in line at the social security office, it just felt wrong
not to be Leah Grayson.”
“The line was that long, huh?”
She laughed out loud as the harmony between them was restored. “It didn’t help that I would have been Leah Hooker.”
He gave her a sideways glance, and they both snorted and choked with laughter.
“You definitely dodged a bullet there.”
“I guess so. At least I didn’t have to go through the paperwork to change it back after we divorced.” She clenched her fists at her sides. “The last thing I wanted was any reminder of the colossal mistake I’d made. Live and learn, right?”
“I guess so.” He was quiet for a few moments as they trudged steadily uphill. “Maybe the more important lesson is that people don’t change. Brock was an ass when we were in high school. A few years didn’t morph him into a good guy.”
“I didn’t have a car in college, so I got rides home with him from Ashland when we ended up living in the same apartment complex our junior year. Brock can be very entertaining, and I was flattered he was interested in me since he was Mr. Popular around campus.” She stopped to pull her water out of her backpack and took a drink. “What’s done is done. Let’s just say I’m not as quick to give people the benefit of the doubt anymore.” She held out the bottle. “Want some?”
He nodded and took it. His throat moved as he drank. “Thanks.” Capping the top, he handed it back. “You aren’t the only one who made a bad judgment call that ended in disaster. I signed partnership papers with my old college roommate, Jay, when we were developing Intersect.”
Leah returned the bottle to her pack, then picked up the stick Barney dropped at her feet and tossed it before moving onward. “I tried using your old platform for a while, but the mechanics were clunky.”
“Yeah, Jay pushed to launch Intersect before I had all the bugs worked out. After the site took off, I discovered a couple of questionable clauses in the contract that progressively gave him a higher share of the profits.”
“You’re kidding? Didn’t your lawyer—”
“I trusted Jay. He was in charge of the business end, while I was the tech side. When I figured out what he’d done, I walked away from our partnership and gave him everything instead of battling it out in court.” Sarcasm laced his words. “Too bad the guy he hired to replace me could never get the program to work right.”
She grinned. “He wasn’t as good as you, huh?”
“Not by a long shot. Intersect went down in flames.”
“And Crossroads emerged from the ashes.”
“I came out on top, but you can damn well bet I’ll never sign anything again without reading the fine print.” His tone was hard.
“I guess we’re both a little jaded.”
“I prefer to think of it as cautious.”
Leah didn’t respond. Jaded definitely seemed like a better fit for Ryan’s current attitude. The drive that defined his personality was still there, but the optimism she’d found so attractive when they were younger was missing. She wondered what changes in her temperament he’d observed, and made a mental note to quit bitching about Brock and focus on the present.
“You still teach fifth grade?”
She was relieved to change the subject. “I do. The kids are great at that age, curious and eager to learn. At least they are when I can present the material in a way that sparks their interest.”
“I bet you’re the cool teacher now, the way Mr. Manning was back in the day.”
“He still teaches, you know. We’re coworkers.”
“Really?” He held up a hand. “Wait, I can do the math. I guess he isn’t all that old since he was probably only in his twenties when he taught us.”
“Exactly. Anyone over sixteen just seems ancient to a ten-year-old. Half my students probably think I’m a grandma.” She gave him a wry smile. “Anyway, I talked Sloan into coming to the reunion. I figured everyone would get a kick out of seeing him again.”
“Without a doubt.”
They hiked in silence for several minutes, but the lack of conversation wasn’t uncomfortable. When Barney ran back to drop a pinecone at his feet, tongue hanging as he wriggled in excitement, Ryan picked it up and threw it. The dog galloped away.
“What happened to the stick you tossed for him earlier?”
“He probably buried it somewhere. The pinecone will disappear shortly. Barney is weird that way.”
“Unconventional, kind of like his owner. You always had your own unique flare.”
“Yes, but my individuality doesn’t involve burying strange objects. Well, I guess the time capsule was pretty weird, but Barney is the worst. Once, when I was working in the garden, I discovered a hairbrush of mine that had mysteriously disappeared.”
“I noticed you have a good-sized garden plot.” He grasped her hand to help her over a downed tree that had fallen across the path.
When his palm closed over hers, warm and calloused, she drew in a breath before she answered. “I grow most of my own herbs and vegetables. I dry, can, or freeze what I don’t eat fresh to save for the winter.”
“So, you live off your own land. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Because I was already a budding naturalist way back in high school. Do you remember when I told my parents I didn’t want to eat meat anymore? My dad thought I’d lost my mind.”
“Nothing wrong with my memory. I had to give up pepperoni on my pizza that summer.” His arm brushed hers as he walked at her side. “You must have rubbed off on me, though, because even after we broke up, I kept ordering odd veggie combos.”
“Not a surprise since you’re a smart man, and they taste great.”
“Yeah, they do.” Raising a hand, he pointed. “The trees are thinning. I think we’re almost to the ridge.”
“I haven’t been up here in a few years, but I’m pretty sure you’re right.”
A couple of minutes later they reached the summit of the climb and veered off the trail to a narrow overlook. The hillside plunged downward into a thick bowl of evergreens broken up by splashes of fall color. On the horizon, the ocean shimmered beneath an azure blue sky.
“Wow, spectacular. The view is worth every step of the climb.”
Ryan grasped her elbow. “Careful. The ground looks a little crumbly at the edge there. I’m surprised the Forest Service hasn’t put up a railing.”
“I don’t think there’s a budget for those types of projects on trails that get little use, and this one isn’t marked on most maps.”
“You’re probably right.” He released her to fist his hands on his hips and take a long look around. “Where’d your dog disappear to?”
Leah dragged her gaze away from the endless stretch of sea and frowned. “I’m not sure.” Raising her voice, she called, “Barney, here boy.”
A muffled woof came from their left, but her dog didn’t appear from between the manzanita bushes.
“I guess I should go see what he’s doing. My crazy mutt probably treed a squirrel or stuck his head down a gopher hole.”
“Looks like there’s a break in the bushes over here.” Ryan pulled back a couple of branches. “Can you get through?”
She nodded and pushed past a prickly thicket to emerge in a small clearing with trees on three sides and a sheer drop to the west. Barney sniffed around the base of a large, flat stone.
“Hey, boy, are the chipmunks teasing you again?”
He snuffled and dug furiously, giving an occasional woof.
Ryan stepped past her. “What’s that discoloration on the top? Something stained the granite. Kids with paint?”
Grabbing Barney by the collar, Leah hauled him away from the rock, then wrinkled her nose as she took a closer look at the rusty stain on the pale gray surface. “Eww, definitely not paint. Maybe blood? Gross! Do you think a coyote dragged a rabbit carcass up there to eat?”
“Or a mountain lion dined on deer. A while back, Mom mentioned a big cat had been spotted in the vicinity.”
Leah glanced over her shoul
der into the thick forest. “Uh, let’s not have our snack here. I wouldn’t want to wind up on the lunch menu of a mountain lion.”
“They tend to hunt at dawn or dusk, and that stain looks old and weathered, but I don’t mind finding someplace else to eat. This place has an eerie feel to it.”
Leah shivered and backed toward the bushes. “Better safe than sorry.”
Chapter Six
Ryan pushed the grocery cart down the aisle of the refrigerator section and paused to grab a container of sour cream before moving on. He glanced at the list in his mother’s neat handwriting to see what he was still missing. Yogurts and juice. “They should be somewhere around here,” he muttered.
When his cart sideswiped the open cooler door, the impact jolted him to attention. “Oops, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
An older man in a gray suit turned, holding a six-pack of beer. “Ryan, how are you? I heard you were back in town.”
“I’m fine. It’s good to see you, Mr. Brewster.”
Mr. Brewster shut the cooler door and reached across the cart to shake hands. “Call me Waylon. You aren’t a kid anymore, for heaven’s sake. I hope your mother’s recovering from her accident. Damn inconvenient having a broken arm, I’m sure.”
“She’s healing, although not as quickly as she’d like. How’s Pete? I haven’t seen him since I returned to town.”
“Busy making sure our clients get what they deserve. My boy always was a dynamo. He’ll be taking over the reins at the law office when I retire in a couple of years.” His smile reminded Ryan of a shark. “If you ever need solid legal advice, you know where to come, right?” The attorney gave him a slap on the shoulder.
Ryan controlled the urge to roll his eyes. His memories of Waylon Brewster were of a parent determined to bail his son out of every mishap from playground fights to speeding tickets to bribing teachers into changing Cs to As. Apparently nothing much had change over the years.
Buried Truth Page 5