Love Rebuilt

by Delancey Stewart

  I went on, hoping to find the words I was searching for none-too-eloquently. “And part of it is just that it felt awkward suddenly. To be sitting in a man’s house, drinking wine. I’ve been through a lot, and…it felt really different, that’s all.”

  “Different bad?” There was concern etched into the lines around his eyes, the furrow between the golden brows.

  “Just different, I guess.”

  We were both silent a minute, looking out at the dense forest edging the property.

  “Maddie, would you be interested in having dinner with me?”

  I paused, staring up at his face. I saw only sincerity there. Here was a handsome man, asking me a simple question. And from the looks of it, his hands playing with the grooves in the top of the table, he was nervous. My heart picked up a staccato beat. “Are you asking me for a date?” I was stalling as I sorted through the confusion within me. I felt excited. More excited than a woman should be when potentially being courted by a maybe-stalker-slash-murderer. The rational voice in my head that had chased me from Connor’s living room echoed around, softly saying no while the rest of me hummed with the possibility of saying yes.

  A vague hint of a smile danced across his face and his hands stilled. “Something like that, I guess.”

  “Um…” More stalling. “I guess that would be okay.” That didn’t come out quite right.

  “You sound so enthusiastic.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m torn. I’m confused.”

  “Well, maybe I can call you? Give you a little time?”

  I looked at him. I tilted my head and tried to see through the composed exterior. I couldn’t see a killer in there anywhere, or a stalker. But I’d been so wrong about men before. My mind flashed to Jack. Asshole in a charming package. And what serial killer would be successful if his manner broadcast his intentions to his victims? I hedged. “Okay. Call me?”

  Connor nodded and held out his phone. I put my number in, searching inside to identify whether there was a part of me that really believed he was dangerous. When I was talking to Louise and John, that fear had bubbled up, but when confronted with the actual man, I didn’t really feel afraid at all. Intuition. Maybe it wasn’t fear I should be concerned about, but my own idiocy perhaps. Just as I was handing the phone back, a familiar young voice and stampeding feet ripped through the moment.

  “Maddie!” I spun to see Ella Peters sprinting out of the woods on the far side of my property as she shrieked my name, terror written in her expression.

  “Ella, what’s wrong?” I jumped up as she closed the few feet between us. Concern ground through my insides.

  Ella’s face was red and she was out of breath from running. Her lip trembled as she spoke, and I could tell she was struggling not to cry. “We need some help. Austin,” she gasped. “He…I think his leg is broken, or his ankle…I don’t know. He twisted it!” The first teardrop streaked down her dusty cheek.

  “Okay,” I said, keeping my voice calm. Connor was at my side suddenly, a commanding presence that made me feel instantly better. “Where is Austin now?”

  “In the woods, just past the trail up the hill,” she said, the tears running down both cheeks now.

  “We’ll come with you,” Connor said.

  “Is your cousin with him?”

  Ella nodded and took my hand, turning back to the woods. We ran together through the scattered debris that littered the forest floor. West coast forests were dry and sparse compared to the dense undergrowth that made Eastern woods almost impassible, and our only impedance was the dense debris on the ground—these woods hadn’t seen a fire in more than four decades and were filled with tinder. We skirted around Manzanita bushes and climbed over fallen logs, our feet sliding on a carpet of fallen pine needles as we climbed up the hill toward the trail.

  The little girl grasped my hand tightly as we moved, and I was happy to be able to comfort her. I just hoped that Austin wasn’t hurt too badly, and that we’d be able to get him home before dark. The sun was already dipping low to the tree line, sending long shadows shooting over the amber ground.

  Connor moved along beside us, not saying anything, but deftly maneuvering over logs and climbing up the hillside. At one point he walked just ahead of us, and I couldn’t help but admire the grace with which he navigated the tough terrain. There was something sexy about a man whose body was so completely under his control.

  The heart-wrenching cry of a small child brought me back to the present, and I heard a second little voice saying, “It’s okay, Austin. They’ll be here soon.”

  We topped the rise, huffing and gasping for breath after the steep climb at high altitude. Austin and his cousin sat on the ground, Austin’s back against a boulder and his face streaked with tears and grime. He stared at his right foot as if it was no longer his, or he expected it to do something mutinous at any moment.

  “Hey buddy,” I dropped to the ground beside him. “You hurt your leg, huh?”

  The question brought a fresh round of tears, and the little boy sobbed uncontrollably for a minute while I rubbed his small back.

  “It’s okay, Austin. We’re gonna get you home and make it feel better, okay? Can you point to the spot that hurts?”

  Austin pointed to his right ankle, his face crumpling as he looked toward a tall rock up the hillside. “I jumped and my foot didn’t go right.”

  The rock he was pointing to was a good fifteen feet up in the air. I raised my eyebrows, thinking he was lucky he hadn’t hurt himself much worse. Then I remembered that Cam and I had done similar things in our unattended moments up here.

  “Well let’s get you down the hill and see about some ice and maybe some cookies or something, huh?” Connor said. With what appeared to be no effort at all, he leaned over and scooped the little boy into his arms. “Wanna ride on my shoulders? Get a good view and tell me which way to go to get home fastest?”

  Austin smiled a bit through his tears. “Okay,” he sniffled.

  I watched Connor position him up high on his shoulders, holding the little boy’s legs near his neck and being careful not to touch his injured ankle. “Which way, captain?” Connor asked.

  Ella and Adam looked relieved, and both followed as Austin directed Connor down the hill and back toward the village. Connor made adjustments to get us back in the most expeditious fashion, explaining his changes in direction to Austin the whole time.

  “Oh, captain, I think I saw some bandits off that way, let’s dodge around this tree here.” He made our quick trip home into a game, and by the time we arrived at the Peters’ little green cabin, Austin was laughing and smiling from his high perch.

  Roark Peters stood in the street in front of the cabin with a whistle in his hand. “I was just about to call you kids home,” he said, slipping the whistle into his pocket. His eyes narrowed as he took in Austin, and more specifically Connor. “What’s going on?”

  “Ella came to get me,” I explained. “Austin twisted his ankle up on the hill near the trail. It was lucky Connor was right there, I wouldn’t have been able to carry Austin all this way.”

  “Austin navigated all the way back here,” Connor said, ignoring the suspicious look that Mr. Peters had trained on him as he lowered Austin from his shoulders. “And Adam did a great job looking out for Austin while Ella came for help. You’ve got some smart kiddos here, sir.”

  The suspicion shifted slightly with the compliment, and Mr. Peters took Austin from Connor’s arms. “Thanks,” he said. “We do. We know it.”

  Ella smiled up at me and then threw her arms around my waist. “Thanks, Maddie,” she said.

  “Thank you both,” Mr. Peters said. “We appreciate you looking out for the kids.”

  “Any time,” I said. “If I can ever help with anything else, let me know.” I thought about the conversation I’d had with Louise Trench about Ella’s scholarship application. “It might be forward of me to say, sir, but Louise Trench mentioned an application that was demanding a little more ti
me than your wife can spare right now? I wondered…could I help Ella with that? I’ve got some free time with the diner going on a reduced schedule.” I watched Mr. Peters, fearing I’d stepped a bit too far, but his expression remained friendly.

  “I’ll mention it to her,” he said. “We’ve definitely got our hands full.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I hope you feel better, Austin.” I grinned at the little guy, who seemed comfortable enough now. I doubted it was anything too serious.

  “Thanks again, to both of you,” he said. He shook Connor’s hand, and we turned away, heading back around the corner up to my trailer.

  For a few minutes, we strolled in silence, the low light of early evening glowing around us. Finally I turned to Connor. “You’re pretty good with kids.”

  “That surprises you?”

  Some strange part of me believed that kids were like dogs, that they could sense a person’s true nature. But if that was true, I supposed kids would never be kidnapped by strangers. “No,” I said. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure you out.”

  “Well, when you do, let me know,” he said, smiling. “I’ve been working on it for years. And I think the cops might be interested in whatever you come up with, too.” The smile faded.

  “They’ve been around again?”

  “I think we’re developing a pretty serious relationship. They come over almost every day now.”

  “What are they looking for?” I asked, wondering how far I could push.

  “Amanda Terry, I suppose.”

  “Did they search your house? Bring a warrant and everything?” Now I knew I was overstepping but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  “Even dug through my underwear drawer,” he said. “She’s not in there, if you were wondering.”

  I laughed, mostly to diffuse some of the tension that had grown around us.

  “I guess they got some tip off that I’ve got a dungeon in the cabin. Where I keep my victims and whatnot.”

  I had no idea what to say to that. I wondered if it was Miranda who suggested that to the police, but I knew she was not the only one who believed that Connor had been keeping a woman prisoner at his house. I was annoyed at myself for being relieved to learn that the police hadn’t found anything when they’d searched Connor’s house. Maybe part of me had believed that there could be something to that ridiculous theory.

  “They’ve been reading too many of my books, I think.”

  “So what do you think happened to her?”

  “Amanda?”

  “Yes.”

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and I squinted to see him better in the quickly fading light. He sighed and turned to look at me as we walked, nearing the hill that led up to my property. “I haven’t the first idea,” he said. “She’s a nice girl. I hope she’s all right. I don’t trust her folks.”

  Surprise made me stand up straighter. “Her parents? Really?”

  “Never mind,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything about it.”

  “I won’t say anything to anyone,” I said. “I shouldn’t have asked you about it at all. I’m sorry.”

  We arrived at the top of the hill, where Connor’s car was parked. “It’s fine, Maddie. You’re curious. You have every right to be. And I don’t want you to be worried about…well, about the obvious issues that you might be worrying about.”

  “I’m not that worried,” I lied.

  He smiled, and even in the gathering darkness I could see that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course you are,” he said, sounding tired.

  We stood still for a moment, facing each other. I wanted to step closer to him, maybe dare myself to lean in and put my arms around him. But as compelled as I was to move closer, I took a step back instead.

  “I’ll call you soon,” he said. He smiled then, the confident sexy smile he’d shot me that first morning when Jack had been here, trying to sell my land out from under me.

  “Okay,” I said, my voice a breathy whisper that surprised me. “That’d be good.”

  “Talk to you later.” He climbed inside his car, switching on the headlights.

  “Bye.” I walked around the front of his car, aware that he was watching me walk away. He started the engine, but he didn’t drive away until I was safely inside my trailer.

  I didn’t think he was a stalker or a murderer. And I was pretty sure I would agree to have dinner with him if he really did call.

  *

  Work was becoming slower by the day, with fewer tourists dropping through the diner as the summer waned and evenings turned brisk. The bulk of our clientele were police investigators, who were asking more and more questions in their search for the still-missing teenager. I understood, from local gossip and from the fact that Connor was not in custody, that they had very little to go on in terms of linking him to her disappearance. But since the cops weren’t sharing and Connor hadn’t made any kind of public statement, the only information we had were the increasingly incredible stories put out through the town gossip mill and through the tabloids.

  Miranda and I practically fought over every new customer, both of us suffering from a significant reduction in tips compared to what we’d enjoyed when the season was in full swing. I didn’t want to wait on the detectives, though. I didn’t want an order of pancakes to evolve into a discussion of Connor Charles. It wasn’t that I felt guilty, exactly. But I did feel something. And until I could define it for myself, I hoped they wouldn’t decide to ask me any questions about Connor.

  “You look worried,” Miranda breathed as she paused next to me behind the counter. I’d been staring absently at the detectives. Miranda was wearing another short denim skirt. I made a note to mention those when we got down to brass tacks, talking about her campaign to win Chance’s heart. The skirts showed a good amount of leg, but they felt adolescent. I was no fashion expert, but to me they said, “high school senior,” not “hot independent woman.”

  “No.” I shook my head and tried to smile, banishing dueling concerns over Cam and Connor. What in the world could my brother be coming all the way up here to say? And was going on any kind of date with Connor really a good idea? I’d spent five years believing myself to be someone who turned to be only a figment of Jack’s imagination. How could a person date if she didn’t know who she was supposed to be? Who she was? “I’m a little distracted.”

  She raised an eyebrow, but I wasn’t about to share. “Divorce stuff,” I told her, and she sighed, her eyes closing in a knowing way. I wasn’t really lying, that really did sum it all up, didn’t it?

  I took my break at the library next to the post office. There was a public terminal there with Photoshop installed, and I’d been dying to get a look at the shots I’d taken over the past few weeks since I’d picked the camera up again.

  I didn’t have high hopes. I hadn’t taken a photo in at least a full year, and my innate sense of framing and light were probably rusty. Like anything else, mastering a camera took dedicated practice. Getting back into it was hard. Not to mention that every time I picked up the camera I heard Jack’s stupid accented voice challenging my belief that I had any talent. But I’d had enough of listening to Jack.

  I plugged the card reader into the USB port and started scanning through the photos I’d captured since I’d been brave enough to shoot again.

  The mountain scenery made a glorious subject, and I had plenty of inspiring sunsets showing the retiring sun draping its final rays over treetops and stretching out beneath shimmering clouds. But the best photos I had captured were of Connor in his living room in front of the fire. I’d seen them on the tiny camera screen, but as they appeared on the screen in front of me, I couldn’t help staring at them in awe. The fire lit his hair in so many shades of red and gold that I wondered why everyone didn’t wish for red hair. His skin shone in the cast of the flames, and the light created shadows that emphasized the jawline I remembered wishing to run my fingers over during our brief time together. He
looked pensive, dark, and as sexy as any man I’d ever seen.

  Scanning through the photos made my stomach tighten, and desire lit inside me—foreign and unfamiliar, like a friend I’d had years before suddenly popping around to see me. The rush of sensations made it hard to remember that of all the eligible men in the world, Connor was probably not among the top choices when ranked by reliability, trustworthiness, or transparency. I knew very little about him, and the police were every bit as interested in him as I was. Still, the very sight of him on the monitor did something to me, and the freedom to stare at him unabashed as he looked back at me from the screen was a pleasure I reveled in for far too long.

  “He’s not a bad looking chap,” drawled a familiar Scottish brogue that turned my stomach.

  I shut down the photo-editing program and snatched my card file from the USB port, spinning around to face Jack. “What the hell are you doing here now?”

  “Good to see you too, love.”

  “Stop calling me that!” I stood, ushering Jack from the library as Christine watched with open interest.

  “Seriously, what the hell are you doing up here?” I stood facing him on the sidewalk outside the library.

  “Cops called about your boyfriend. Told them I’d come up and see what all the fuss was about.”

  “What?” Why would the cops call Jack?

  “My name’s still on the deed for the house,” he said. “I guess they’re looking to talk to anyone with any connection to pretty much anything.”

  My mind was spinning. “Your name is still on the deed?” I repeated. “Why would that be true?”

  “Just a minor oversight, love. I’ll have it handled.”

  I shook my head. I’d let Jack handle things for way too long. “I’ll add it to the long list of things to speak to my lawyer about. How did you know where to find me?”

  “Cute blond in the diner. What’s her name?”

  “None of your damned business,” I hissed.

  “An unfortunate moniker,” he said, his smile revealing the perfect teeth that I was considering punching my fist into.

  “Mads,” A gruff familiar voice came from behind me and I turned. Frank had wandered across the street while I’d been talking to Jack. “Everything okay here?” I felt a rush of affection to the older man. It was nice to know he was looking out for me.