by Irene Hannon
The only thing that had changed since her first—and only—visit was her.
Dread clogging her throat, she forced her gaze to move on to the first of the tiny crescent inlets that dotted the shore on either side of this main gathering place. The secluded nooks where the kids disappeared, two by two, after they’d consumed their fill of liquor.
She and Corey among them.
She choked back her revulsion as the events of that long-ago summer night played out in her memory like one of those jerky old-fashioned home movies her dad used to take.
“See? I told you everything would be okay.” Corey scooted closer to her on the dead log and tipped back his third bottle of beer, chugging it down.
Was it? Val looked around. A lot of the kids were zoning out. Maybe, for once, Mom had been right to caution her about the rowdy parties that took place here. But Corey was leaving tomorrow to start his freshman year at Northwestern. She wouldn’t see him again until Thanksgiving. After dating him all summer, how could she say no when he’d pleaded with her to attend his going-away party?
But this didn’t feel right.
“Val.” He nudged her with his elbow and passed her a plastic cup. “Try this. It’ll put you in a party mood.”
She squinted at the clear liquid in the dim light of the campfire. “What is it?”
“Happy juice. Trust me on this, okay?”
She took a sip. Coughed as it burned down her throat. Made a face.
He laughed. “It’ll grow on you. Don’t be a party pooper.”
Somehow she managed to choke it down, sip by sip. No way did she want to embarrass him in front of his friends by being a wet blanket.
By the time she drained the cup, she was feeling relaxed and a little giddy. She even took a few drags on the joint someone passed her. Smoking had never appealed to her, but this wasn’t too bad. She took a few more. The conversation around her grew distant, and an odd, floaty sensation overtook her.
That was when Corey pulled her to her feet and suggested a walk.
Not a bad idea. Maybe some fresh air, away from the acrid smoke, would help clear her head.
She let him lead her down the beach, but less than a dozen yards from the party crowd he guided her into a tiny alcove. From somewhere he produced a blanket. Spread it on the sand. Pulled her down beside him.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, Val.”
“I know. I’ll miss you.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“Show me.”
It started as a kiss . . . and grew from there. The next thing she knew, they were lying down and Corey was tugging her T-shirt out of her shorts.
Alarm bells went off somewhere in the recesses of her mind.
“Corey . . . no. I . . . I don’t do the heavy stuff.”
“Even for me, babe? I love you. Don’t you love me?”
“You know I do. But this is . . . it’s wrong.”
“How can it be wrong if we love each other and plan to get married?”
Val tried to think through the haze in her brain. “Married?”
“Do you think I’d ask you to do this if I wasn’t planning to marry you? Not now, but after we finish school.”
Val tried to sort out the sequence of intimacy and marriage. Something was out of whack here, but Corey’s lips, and his urgency, were robbing her of rational thought.
“Are you sure about this?” Her words came out slightly garbled.
“Sure enough for both of us. Just go with the flow.”
His hands were all over her. Her brain froze. She couldn’t think.
And so she didn’t.
She followed his advice and went with the flow.
A shudder rippled through Val as the images in her mind faded to black.
So many mistakes. And for what? She’d never even seen Corey again—and when she’d sought him out in desperation, he’d left her to deal with her darkest hours alone.
Sinking to her knees in the sand, Val dropped her face into her hands. If only she could turn back the clock, live that one night over again, how different her life might have been.
But it was too late for second chances.
A sob ripped through her. Then another. The memories crashing over her were too intense. Too disturbing. Too heart-shattering.
She had to leave.
Fast.
Pushing herself to her feet, she took off running for the trail, oblivious to the brambles snagging her hair and scraping her arms as she ascended. Up, up she climbed, until at last she emerged from the shadows into the sun on the knoll.
Bending forward, hands on knees, she sucked in deep, shuddering breaths, her heart thudding as if she’d just finished a five-hundred-yard dash.
So much for finding answers in the place where it had all begun.
And if she’d fallen apart here, how would she survive a visit to the place where it had ended?
“Daddy, can I go see that butterfly up close?”
Following the direction of Victoria’s finger, David spotted a monarch hovering over a nearby patch of clover. “Sure. But be very slow and quiet or you’ll scare it away. And don’t touch it, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because butterflies are very fragile.”
“What’s fragile?”
“That means they break easily.”
Tilting her head, Victoria studied him. “Like Mommy’s vase?”
A vision of the piece of Venetian glass Natalie had brought back from a business trip to Italy flashed through his mind.
He’d never cared for the ornate vase, and he wasn’t sorry it had slipped from his fingers while he was unpacking and shattered into a thousand pieces. But for whatever reason, the image of the brilliant crimson shards on the white tile floor in their new kitchen was etched in his mind.
They’d reminded him of blood.
He shut out the picture as best he could. “That’s right. Like Mommy’s vase.”
“I’ll be real careful.”
“Okay.” She took off, and David watched her approach the gossamer-winged creature. It flitted to the next flower as she drew close, and she stopped. After a brief hesitation, she started forward again. The same scenario was repeated again. And again. This game could keep Victoria amused for hours—and that was fine. Whatever made her happy.
He stretched out his legs on the blanket, leaned back on his hands, and lifted his face to the sun. It felt good to relax after all the upheaval of their move, and he intended to savor every minute of this gorgeous day.
A movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he idly turned his head—then stiffened. A blonde woman had emerged from the woods, and she was bent over, holding on to a tree.
He straightened up and took a closer look. Was that a streak of blood running down her arm?
A second later she raised her head, and his heart stopped.
It was Val!
David catapulted to his feet, darting a quick glance toward Victoria. Her back was to him, and she’d bent down to examine the butterfly, oblivious to everything else. She’d be safe and occupied for a few moments.
As David sprinted toward Val, his alarm escalated. The closer he got, the worse she looked. Her hair was tangled, and he hadn’t imagined the blood. A nasty scratch ran from her elbow halfway to her wrist. When he touched her arm and felt the tremors coursing through her, his gut clenched.
“Val?” His voice came out in a hoarse croak, and he tried again. “Val, what happened?”
No response.
He gave her a slight shake. “Val!”
Slowly she raised her head. Her eyes were glazed, and there was evidence of recent tears on her colorless face. She blinked once . . . twice . . . three times before she began to focus. “David?”
“What happened?”
She pushed her hair back from her face. “What . . . do you mean?”
“You stumbled out of the woods. Your arm is bleeding. You’re shaking, and I can see y
ou’ve been crying.”
Val examined her arm. “It’s just a scratch. From the brambles.”
David narrowed his eyes. Was she avoiding his question on purpose, or was she in shock?
“Val, something happened in there. Should I call the police?”
“No. I’m fine. I . . . took a hike and I . . . I got lost in the woods. I was s-scared for a few minutes. That’s all.”
She was lying.
But if he pushed, she might shut him out completely.
“Okay.” Far from it, but he’d play along. For now. “Your arm needs attention, though.”
“I’ll take care of it when I get home.” She tried for a smile. Managed only a twist of her lips. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Getting ready to have a picnic.” He gestured behind him.
As Val glanced over his shoulder toward Victoria, her features softened. Then she dipped her head again and fumbled in the pocket of her jeans. “Listen, I’m sorry I disturbed your day.” She pulled out her car keys and clasped them in a tight fist.
“You’re in no condition to drive.”
“I’m fine. Really.” She started to walk past him, but she stopped when he touched her arm.
“Look—why don’t you join us?”
She glanced again toward his daughter. “No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to barge in on a family outing.”
“It’s just Victoria and me.”
She frowned. “Isn’t your wife with you?”
“Natalie died two years ago.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He stepped aside and indicated the blanket where he’d been sitting. “Anyway, Victoria and I would welcome your company.”
She edged back. “I-I don’t think so.” Her gaze was riveted on the blanket.
The blanket was freaking her out.
Why?
But he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was still moving away, and in another moment or two she’d flee.
“I was just about to move to the picnic table. It looks like a more comfortable spot. Won’t you reconsider? We have brownies for dessert.” He gave her a teasing grin he hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt.
Some of the tension in her features relaxed. “Brownies, hmm? That’s hard to pass up.”
“Then stay. I brought plenty.”
Indecision flitted through her eyes, and he had a feeling she was going to decline. But much to his surprise, she relented.
“Okay. For a few minutes.”
The tautness in his smile eased. “Good. Let me gather up our things.”
As he shook out the blanket and folded it, Victoria looked his way. He waved at her and she bounded toward him, apparently more intrigued by their guest than by the elusive butterfly. Her step slowed as she approached, however, and she moved beside him to shyly regard the new arrival.
“Victoria, this is Val. She’s a friend of mine. Can you say hello?”
“Hello.” The little girl echoed his words in a soft voice.
“Hello, Victoria. I saw your picture in your daddy’s office. You’re even prettier in person.”
“You’re pretty too.” She inspected Val’s arm. “But you have an owie.”
“A big thorn scratched me in the woods.”
“We need to take care of that.” David deposited their picnic supplies on the table and dug out his car keys.
“I can deal with it later.”
He ignored her. “I’ll get the first aid kit from the car.”
“You carry a first aid kit in your car?” She shot him a surprised look.
“I have a five-year-old. That means I follow the Coast Guard motto: Always ready.”
Val’s lips curved. “Okay. Victoria and I will visit while you’re gone.”
David returned to the car, pausing at the trunk to glance back at the twosome. An exuberant Victoria was talking to Val, who was leaning forward as she listened, her mouth curved into a smile. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but all at once his daughter’s laugh floated through the air.
Man, he’d missed that sound. He’d almost begun to think she’d left it in St. Louis, along with her friends from day care and the familiarity of their old routine. Most days since the move, she’d been subdued. And how many nights had he awakened and found her at his bedside, complaining of having bad dreams and wanting to sleep with him?
Too many.
He fitted the key in the trunk, lifted the lid, and pulled out the first aid kit. So they’d had some transition problems. That was to be expected. But once they settled into small-town life, things would get better. They’d adjust to their new routine. Turn their new house into a home. Make new friends.
Like Val.
Already she was bringing laughter back into Victoria’s life. Adding a spark to her eyes.
And to his.
Yet as he started back toward the picnic table, he frowned. Val was leaving Washington in a few weeks. Letting himself—or Victoria—get too involved with her would be a big mistake. He and his daughter had had enough loss and disappointment to last a lifetime. The key was to play this cool. Casual. Enjoy her company, but focus on making more permanent friends.
So they’d eat their lunch, have a few pleasant moments—and leave it at that. Even if Val seemed as much in need of a friend as Victoria did.
Because keeping things light and friendly would be a whole lot safer.
For everyone.
9
“I still don’t know how you talked me into this.” Karen shot Val a disgruntled glance.
Her sister grinned at her from the adjacent salon chair. “Trust me. You’ll love it.”
Karen cringed as another length of her hair fell to the floor. “I’ve always had long hair.”
“Shoulder length is still long. Everything else is extra weight. This style will highlight your excellent bone structure. Am I right?” Val directed her question to the woman deftly wielding a pair of scissors behind Karen’s chair.
“No question about it.” The stylist continued to snip like there was no tomorrow. “And adding in layers will give your hair more body and fullness.”
“See?” Val leaned back in her chair and linked her fingers over her nonexistent stomach.
Karen watched another long lock bite the dust. “It’s not like I have much choice at this point.”
“You could start a new trend. Half long, half shoulder length. Lots of kids do stuff like that.”
“I’m not a kid.” Karen scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. She had to admit the shorter length suited her face better. Softened it. But it didn’t alter the mousy brown hue. “I do like the style. Too bad it doesn’t help the color.”
“Why not change that too?”
“No way. This is a big enough step for one day.”
“How about sticking your toe in the water with some highlights? You have some natural auburn in your hair that we could bring out a little. Right?” Val pulled the stylist back into the conversation.
“Absolutely. That’s a great idea.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? If you don’t like it, it will grow out. Come on, Karen. Be daring.”
“I’m not the daring type.” Another length of hair dropped into her lap, and Karen picked it up. “You know, there is a little bit of red in here.”
“Auburn,” Val corrected. “A much richer color. The highlighting will enhance that. It won’t change the basic color of your hair.”
“I don’t know . . .”
Val made the decision for her. “Do it,” she told the stylist. Then she looked back at Karen, heading off her protest. “Consider it a birthday gift.”
“My birthday’s not until September.”
“I’ll be back in Chicago by then. This is an early present. And I bet you can be daring if you put your mind to it.”
Could she?
Yes!
“Okay, I will.” She waved a hand at th
e stylist, determined to rise to the challenge even if she was quaking on the inside—and already wondering if she was making a mistake. “You heard the lady. Do it.”
An hour later, when they emerged from the salon into the sunlight, Val stepped back and inspected Karen. Shaking her head, she uttered one word. “Wow!”
“A vast overstatement, I suspect.” Nevertheless, a heady rush of pleasure swept through her. “But I do feel pretty. Maybe for the first time in my life.”
“You are pretty. And you’ll be even prettier once we buy a little mascara and some blush and lipstick.”
“Wait!” Karen grabbed Val’s arm when her sister started forward. “What about our grocery shopping? We’re already running late. Mom will wonder what happened to us, and Kristen will be livid that we left her with her grandmother for so long on a holiday weekend. As she reminded me this morning, she has places to go.”
“They’ll both live. We’ll be quick. Besides, we’re celebrating Independence Day, remember? What better way than this?”
Before Karen could reply, Val towed her down the strip mall toward the drugstore. “Nothing fancy or expensive, I promise. Just a few touches to enhance your coloring.”
Those few touches turned into a major makeover—by her standard, if not her sister’s.
And an hour later, as they pulled onto Margaret’s street, her nerves kicked in big time. What in the world was her mother going to say?
As if sensing her trepidation, Val spoke. “Don’t be intimidated. No matter what snide remarks Mom might make, you look great. Hold that thought.”
Karen tried, but by the time they pushed through the back door she was as close as she’d ever been to a panic attack.
Kristen jumped to her feet the instant they stepped into the kitchen, clearly way past ready to end her extended visit with her grandmother. “I thought you guys got lost or . . .” Her voice faltered and her mouth dropped open as they walked into the room. “Wow!”
“See?” Val sent her a smug look.
Margaret’s response, however, was far less affirmative. “What on earth did you do to yourself?”