Harlequin Superromance November 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2

by Mary Brady

  Why couldn’t life ever be easy? Why did the simplest, most foolproof plans always backfire and get complicated and rip your heart out?

  “What’s she doing now?”

  “Still outside. I think—yep, it looks like he has her smiling a little. She’s crying, but she’s not hysterical anymore.”

  “Thank God.” Lyddie dropped to the grass. She lay on her back and stared at the sky and wondered how she was supposed to hold things together when they all seemed destined to fall apart.

  “I wish I was there with you,” Zoë said.

  “Me, too,” Lyddie replied, even while she kept remembering the way J.T. had held her when she had her last Sara-induced panic attack. What she would give to be able to go to him now....

  But she couldn’t. Not anymore.

  “Zo? Do you think she means it?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I was fourteen, but as I recall, most of my emotions changed about as fast as Dad used to flip through the TV channels. For her to be so adamant about this for so long... It makes me wonder.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Lyd, I know why you moved there. You needed all the support you could get after Glenn died, and by God, those folks came through for you big-time. But I wonder if, maybe, it’s time to let that go.”

  “But how else am I supposed to keep his memory alive for them?”

  “Maybe... Don’t freak on me, okay? But maybe you’re not. Not anymore. I don’t mean you should never talk about him or anything like that,” she added quickly. “But, honey, maybe it’s time to move on.”

  Move on?

  “Think about it, Lyddie. You said it was getting to you, seeing how people had turned Glenn into the next thing to a saint. You were feeling stifled by it. Maybe the kids are feeling that, too.”

  “But this is our home. The only one Tish knows. Not to mention Ruth is here, and I promised her I would never—”

  “Stop. Just stop. Don’t you dare tell me you’re staying there because you promised Ruth you wouldn’t leave.”

  Lyddie blinked at the sudden vehemence in Zoë’s words. “No. Of course not. But I—”

  “You don’t go back on your word. I know that. I also know that your duty to your children goes far and above what you owe Ruth.”

  Hard words. Harsh, even. But Lyddie knew they were true, even if she didn’t like to hear them.

  “You really think I’m doing the wrong thing, keeping them here?”

  Zoë made a sound that could have been a sigh or could have been a laugh. “I don’t think you could ever do the wrong thing, because you’re there with them, and you will always give them what they need. But I wonder. If you were to go someplace else—someplace where they weren’t the kids of a saint—maybe they wouldn’t need you quite so much.”

  Lyddie fell silent, thinking of Tish and her teacher, Ben and the school, Sara’s painful outburst. “I know there are things that bother them. I just thought the good outweighed the bad.”

  “Maybe it does. I don’t know. I’m not living there, and heaven knows I might be way off base. But listening to you, and Sara, and all the things you’ve said about Ben and Tish, I wonder.” She paused. “Would you ever go back to—”

  “Not Peterborough. No. Not an option.” That part of her life belonged to Glenn.

  “Someplace else, then, with no memories. A fresh start for all of you.”

  “Have you forgotten I’ve just gone through hell and back making it possible to buy my building?”

  “Oh. Right. That.” Zoë fell silent, and Lyddie could easily imagine her sprawled over her sofa, chewing on her pinky fingernail. “You said there was another buyer. It’s not like you would be leaving the seller high and dry.”

  “No.” Lyddie picked the words carefully “No, I think J.T. would survive.”

  “Wait. J.T.? Hang on. Isn’t he the one you were thinking of...”

  “He was.”

  “And did you?”

  The sudden excitement in Zoë’s voice was enough to make Lyddie smile, if only for a moment. “Um...”

  “Lydia Stewart Brewster, you’ve been sitting on this all this time and you said nothing?”

  “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why the hell not? Damn, girl, I am stuck here in the ’burbs doing the 24/7 dairy-cow thing, and you were having a nooky adventure and didn’t tell me?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think—”

  “Oooh. So good you couldn’t think straight, huh?” This time, Zoë’s sigh reeked of happiness. “I am so proud of you.”

  Proud of her? The irony was too much. Before she could stop herself, Lyddie started to cry.

  “Lyd? Honey, I thought I was the one with the raging hormones. Why are you crying?”

  “Oh, Zoë. If you only knew... There’s nothing to be proud of. I...I hurt him. Horribly. I said the most awful things, and told him...he said he loves me, Zo. And I can’t...I don’t...”

  “Holy crap. You made a guy fall in love with you in a month?”

  “It was longer than that, and I didn’t make him do it. I wasn’t trying to do anything but, just, you know. Feel like me again.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “And then he did that.”

  “So you feel nothing for him?”

  “Of course I do! He’s a wonderful guy. I like him a lot. But I don’t—you know.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Go check on Sara.”

  “Sara is fine and you are avoiding the issue. Which, I have noticed in my thirty-six years as your little sister, is exactly what you do when you don’t want to talk about something.”

  “You’re crazy, Zo.”

  “Yet you’re the one crying because you hurt a guy you claim to not love.”

  Lyddie pushed upright, all the better to scowl at the phone. “Of course I don’t. I’ve only known him two months. He’s funny and sweet and I like spending time with him, but that doesn’t mean I love him.”

  “You do realize you’re tap-dancing like hell to avoid saying the actual words.”

  No. She couldn’t be.

  “Lyddie?”

  It had to be something else. Yes, she had longed for him to comfort her, but that was just an association, because he had helped her the last time. Sure, she had spent the past few days in misery, but it had been a horrible ending to a wonderful time. And of course she felt awful about the things she had said. No one wanted to hurt someone they—

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Told you so,” Zoë said with such satisfaction that Lyddie knew she was smirking.

  “I can’t be.” Lyddie hit the grass again, not out of choice, but necessity. Her knees weren’t working anymore and she had started shaking something fierce. “It’s too fast. Too complicated. Too...too...”

  “Too scary?”

  Oh, hell. The black spots dancing in front of Lyddie’s eyes told her that her little sister might well be onto something.

  “Zo?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Why am I sitting here on the verge of a panic attack at the thought that I might be—you know—with J.T.?”

  “Oh, sweetie. Who the hell wouldn’t be terrified after what you went through?”

  “They all think I’m so brave,” she whispered into the phone. “But the thought of being in love again... Damn, Zoë, I’m falling apart here.”

  “Of course you are. But you’re smart enough to remember that real bravery isn’t about never being afraid. It’s about being so scared that you could pretty much die, but doing what has to be done anyway.”

  “And what exactly am I supposed to do? The things I said...”
r />   “If he’s half the guy he must be for you to have fallen for him, he’ll understand. As for what you should do next—”

  “Hang on. I think I’ve got that part covered.”

  And with that, Lyddie threw up all over her mostly uprooted stump.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ABOUT AN HOUR BEFORE the planning board was scheduled to meet, J.T. stood on the sidewalk by River Joe’s, the river at his back and Town Hall in front of him, waiting for a clot of tourists to move so he could cross the road. Even though he was leaving in a couple of days, he couldn’t bring himself to break the first rule of the town: in a conflict between a tourist and a townie, the tourist always comes first.

  As soon as the camera-slinging crew was gone he hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder and glided swiftly across the road on his blades. From there he navigated the stone steps leading into the building, pleased when he slipped only once.

  Skates had never been designed for bombing up and down the halls of buildings. Wearing them in here, flanked by the police station and the town offices, was like painting a giant target on his back. But right now he had a job to do. An impression to make.

  A deal to make with the devil.

  He rolled down the hall, jauntily saluting the one poor befuddled soul coming out of the men’s room before stopping in front of the simple oak door that proclaimed he was at the Office of the Mayor. Below the dull brass plaque was a smaller, shinier one that reminded him the current occupant was Jillian McFarlane.

  As if he could forget.

  He hoped she was alone. He really didn’t want to deal with the Ted factor, not that he would let Jillian know that.

  He knocked quickly, pulled up a cocky grin and pushed the door open. A brief yip let him know he’d caught her off guard. Good. He needed all the advantages he could get.

  He skated in and let his backpack fall to the floor. “Hello, Jillian.”

  She glared at him, one hand over her chest, the other clutching a ballpoint pen like a weapon. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Do you know how glad I’ll be to never hear that question again?” He chose a chair in front of her desk and sprawled across it before glancing around the painfully neat office. “Nice place. You’ve painted.”

  “And you are out of line. I have a meeting to prepare for. Leave. Now.”

  “Sorry,” he said with mock cheerfulness. “No can do. I need to talk to you before that meeting.”

  “There will be time on the agenda for you to make your presentation.”

  “There will? Great.” He sat up, all bright and eager. “I’m sure there’s a lot of folks who would love to hear what I have to say.”

  She glanced toward the door. Probably checking to make sure no one could overhear them.

  He felt a twinge of conscience, but refused to let it stop him. There were two futures on the line—Lyddie’s, and hopefully his. As long as Jillian did her part, no one would be the wiser. He couldn’t back down now.

  “Here’s the thing,” he said softly. “I’ve heard the rumors, Jillian. I know you’re still trying to block the sale. I think it’s time to talk.”

  She didn’t even blink.

  “You say you want to do what’s best for the town, and you know what? I believe you. The fact that you’ve been pushing for Mr. Crispy all this time tells me you’re sincere. I have to salute you for that.”

  “There’s a hell of a but behind those words, isn’t there?”

  “More of an and. You’ve mentioned a number of times that this issue is dividing the town, that I’m stirring up trouble. You and I both know that there’s more to it than that. People are afraid of me and what I know.” His lips twitched. “Lucky for you, none of them know that you’re in on the secret, too.”

  Again, not a sound, though she looked a little green around the gills.

  “The real problem isn’t the store, Jillian. It’s the fear. The fear and the guilt. As long as people are afraid that the truth will come out, they’re going to keep doing stupid things.”

  She nodded slowly. “It’s a sorry day when I agree with you, but I think you’re right.”

  Thank God. If she could say that, he was halfway there.

  “So here’s what I want. I’m going to go into that meeting and make a speech that will guarantee everyone in the room will not only want Lyddie to have the building, they’ll be volunteering to pay the mortgage for her. All I ask is that you refrain from saying anything that would change their minds.”

  “I’m only one person. I only have one vote.”

  “You’re the only one with half a brain on the committee,” he said bluntly. “They’ll do whatever you say and you know it. They trust you.” He paused, then added, “Do this, and I will give you exactly what you need to make sure this is the end of the fire problems.”

  “What, are you going to turn back time?”

  “No, I will stand up there and take full, public and sole responsibility for what happened that night.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “And,” he continued, “I give you my solemn word that if this goes through, I will never set foot in this town again.”

  “Your word? Seriously, J.T., if you expect me to put a lot of faith in that—”

  She stopped, eyes fixed on the old, slightly tarnished ID bracelet he had pulled from his pocket.

  “I promised you I would never tell anyone that you were with me that night.” He tossed the bracelet on top of her papers. It landed with the name upright, clear and undeniable. The faint jingle as the clasp slipped onto the wood of the desk hung in the air between them like the echo of a long-ago song.

  “If I give you my word, Jillian, you can damned well believe me.”

  * * *

  LYDDIE WALKED INTO the planning board meeting without the faintest idea of what she was going to say.

  “Place is packed,” Nadine remarked from beside her. “You’d think there was going to be a hanging.”

  Lyddie looked around the overflowing room, searching for the one face she longed to see. She strained to hear through the drone of low conversations, listening for the only voice that could soothe her and settle her and make her believe that things might actually work out.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t find J.T.

  Behind her, Nadine sighed. “I hope this crowd doesn’t slow things down.”

  Lyddie gave a quick, reflexive thought to the kids, but she knew they were fine. Tish was happy at her friend Millie’s house, and Ben had become decidedly more responsible since he’d started working with J.T.

  Sara, however, still wasn’t speaking to her.

  “Where is he?” she murmured as they picked their way toward two seats in the front row.

  “You know J.T.,” Nadine said. “Probably waiting to make a grand entrance. Swing from a chandelier or something like that.”

  Lyddie gritted her teeth and gave thanks that the only empty chairs weren’t together. She loved Nadine but couldn’t listen to her now. She needed a few minutes to catch her breath, to think, to put everything out of her mind while she figured out what in God’s name she was going to say when it was her turn to address the board.

  She sat in the molded plastic chair and pulled a notepad and pen from her purse, tapping them together in the hope it would convince her neighbors that she was deep in thought. Anything to focus her attention instead of constantly looking for—

  “Hello, Lyddie.”

  So much for hiding. She looked up to see a pair of familiar brown eyes gazing down at her. Unfortunately, they were in the wrong face.

  “Oh, hi, Iris. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I had to come. Couldn’t miss the show, you know.”

  “What show?”
/>   “You’ll see.” Iris was obviously enjoying whatever secret she held. She looked more animated than Lyddie had seen her in months.

  “Is Ruth here?”

  “She’s over on the other side of the aisle.” Lyddie pointed to where Ruth sat in deep conversation with Harley Prestwick.

  “Ah, so she is. I think I’ll go remind Harley that a true gentleman always gives his seat to a lady in need.”

  “Wait.” Lyddie gulped and reached for Iris’s sleeve. “I don’t see... Where is— Is J.T. going to be here?”

  “He’ll be here.” Iris bent closer, lowering her voice. “And he’s going to show Comeback Cove a side of him they’ll never forget.”

  Oh, Lord. Lyddie slumped back in her seat and wondered how the hell this night could get any worse.

  Then Jillian walked into the room and Lyddie had her answer.

  Jillian looked like Lyddie felt—totally lost. She seemed dazed as she sat at the conference table heading the small chamber. She was as impeccably dressed as ever but moved with small jerky movements that caused her to bump her hip on the table, not once, but twice as she sat. Her hands shook as she reached for a pitcher of water. Lyddie winced, anticipating a flood, but luckily one of the other committee members grabbed it and poured for her.

  It was probably too much to hope that Jillian’s distress had nothing to do with the show Iris had promised.

  Jillian gulped her water, spoke briefly to the man who’d rescued her from imminent disaster, then slammed her wooden gavel to the sounding block. The vibrations bounced around inside Lyddie like a final reminder that this was it.

  “This meeting is now in session,” Jillian announced over the final whispers. “The items on the agenda are as follows...”

  She read through the list. One other sale, a couple of zoning variance requests and then—

  “Proposed transfer of properties at 321 and 333 River Road, Delaney to Brewster.”

  Whispers buzzed through the room. Jillian looked ready to pass out. Lyddie prayed for strength.