Just Look Up

by Courtney Walsh

  Outside, she followed Ryan to the bike path and fell into step beside him as they walked parallel to the lake.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Can’t you just enjoy the journey to get there?”

  “Maybe once you tell me where there is.”

  He gave her a push. “You’ve gotta learn to relax, Kelley. When did you get so uptight?”

  She laughed—not because she wanted to, but because she knew what he said was true. “I am not uptight.”

  “Prove it. Just enjoy the walk along the lake. Enjoy the boats in the marina, the lighthouse.” He inched slightly closer to her and she bristled at his nearness. “Pretend for one hour that you have nothing to do.”

  She shoved him playfully. “You’re crazy.”

  “But I’m cute. You gotta admit.”

  She looked away. See, like this. What was this? Was he flirting with her now? Oh, my gosh. Was she flirting with him? She wasn’t good at this—any of it—but now that the thought had occurred to her, her pulse quickened—slight, but noticeable.

  He didn’t look at her like he saw her as a kid sister. It made her question her resolve.

  As they walked, they talked about Nate, always on both of their minds. There wasn’t much else to report. He was still in a coma, and the doctors were still closely monitoring him.

  “What was Walker asking you about the other day at the farmers’ market?”

  Brooks’s gaze stayed firmly in front of him. “He thinks I should remember more than I do, I guess.”

  Before she could ask him what exactly he remembered or assess for herself if he was hiding something, he nudged her with his shoulder and said, “Here. It’s just up here.”

  “Cedar Grove?”

  He jogged a few steps ahead of her, stopping in front of the Cedar Grove sign. New, by the looks of it, and very nice. She could see now that the cottages had been renovated, and one was still under construction. He turned toward her, hands stretched out as if presenting something.

  “What?”

  “This is what I wanted to show you.”

  She regarded him for a long moment, trying to determine why he had that goofy look on his face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this before.”

  “Come here.”

  He led her toward one of the cottages and opened the door. She remembered Cedar Grove as cute but basic. It had gotten run-down, and by the time she moved away, it was the place out on the lake nobody really wanted to stay at anymore.

  She could see someone had done a lot of work to change that perception. This cottage had been completely restored. With thick moldings and beautifully refinished hardwood floors, the place had a lot of promise.

  “We knocked out a couple of walls to open it up—people really like an open floor plan. Makes it easier for the whole family to stay connected.”

  She ran a hand across the mantel over the brick fireplace. The whole place was like a blank canvas just waiting for the right artist to get ahold of it. Something inside her leapt at the idea.

  But this wasn’t the kind of interior design she did. She worked on branded spaces. For hotels. Businesses. Universities. Still, she could see light-gray paint on the walls, rattan shades on the windows, furniture designed to be functional as well as beautiful, placed—as Ryan had said—so a family could be together.

  “Wait; what do you mean ‘we’?” She faced him. “Have you been working on this project?”

  He smiled. “This is my project.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I bought this place, Lane. It’s mine.”

  Her mouth opened. “Yours?”

  “What do you think?”

  With the open floor plan, the whole space was light, bright, and airy. She could see straight into the kitchen, where he’d installed brand-new white cabinets and beautiful white granite counters with swirls of gray in them, a perfect complement to the stainless steel appliances.

  “I think it’s amazing.”

  He grinned at her, then moved over to the counter and opened his sandwich. There was nowhere to sit, but apparently he was hungry. She, however, was not. At least not for bread. Or that’s what she told herself to keep from devouring it.

  “Come on; let’s eat.” He pulled her sandwich out of the bag and opened a bottle of water, sliding it toward her. “I’ve been wanting to show you this place since you came back to town.”

  “Really? Why?”

  He glanced at her the way a child might when he sought the approval of someone in authority. He’d grown up with no approval from anyone that she knew of; maybe he just needed someone to tell him he’d done a good job.

  “So you own all these cottages?”

  He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded.

  “Did you do the renovations yourself?”

  Another nod.

  “This is pretty amazing, Brooks. It’s going to be a huge draw. This is what my mother was trying to tell me that day in the hospital. About what you’ve done for the community.”

  “She brags on me like she brags on you.”

  She waved him off. “She’s never bragged on me.”

  “Lane, you have no idea. That woman talks about your accomplishments all the time. Thinks you’re pretty amazing just living in Chicago, but working there too? And being a success? She knows you’re doing something most of us are too afraid to do. You’re the brave Kelley.”

  The thought stunned her. It was hardly true. She’d never felt brave a day in her life.

  “Listen, I have an ulterior motive for bringing you out here.” He washed down his bite with a swig of water.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” she said dryly.

  “I want to hire you.”

  “Hire me?”

  He set his sandwich down, apparently so he could speak with both hands. “My interior designer quit, and Betsy gave me a link to your website. According to her, and your mom, you’re kind of a big deal.”

  “Betsy gave you the link?”

  He swallowed a bite and peered at her knowingly. “Yeah, you wanna tell me what happened there?”

  “No.”

  “Fine, then just agree to help me out.”

  Lane took a drink of her water. “Ryan, I’m really flattered you thought of me, but this isn’t the kind of project I usually do.”

  “But you could if you wanted to.”

  “You know how much work I have to do.”

  “You’ve told me.” His face turned innocent. “And I thought about not even mentioning this to you, but then I thought maybe a change of pace is what you need.”

  Lane ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t expected this. She turned and faced the main living room, the room she’d paint a dusty-gray color and accent with brightly colored, lake-inspired touches. She could see a white slipcovered sectional positioned to face the fireplace, and a couple of bright—maybe a little funky—club chairs off to the side.

  No. She couldn’t start decorating this place in her mind. She didn’t have time to take on another project. But the screened-in porch off the back of the cottage caught her eye with its two wicker chairs and matching love seat, and she could practically see the rest of the space come together in her head with large white lights strung overhead and the perfect rug to pull it all together. It would be so different from what she’d been working on—it would be fun.

  How long had it been since design was fun?

  “Don’t give me an answer right now,” Ryan said. “Just think about it. But remember the greatest benefit of the whole project is the countless hours you’d get to spend with me.”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Are you really this high on yourself or is it just a front?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll never know.” He glanced at her unopened sandwich. “You’re not going to eat that, are you?”

  She scrunched her face and shook her head. “Sorry.”

  He opened it up and took a bite. “You have no idea what you
’re missing.”

  CHAPTER

  16

  SUNDAY MORNING, a crash outside Lane’s bedroom woke her with a start. She shot out of bed and opened the door, expecting to see Jett standing there in a pile of something he shouldn’t be getting into. Instead, she found her father, whom she’d barely seen since she’d been home, standing beside the linen closet clumsily propping up a broken shelf.

  “Did I wake you?” He turned toward her, his eyes wide.

  “Frank, what on earth?” Her mother appeared in the hallway just outside the master bedroom, her wet hair flat around the edges of her face. “Did you break the linen closet?” When she noticed Lane standing there, it was almost as if she’d forgotten her eldest daughter was home at all. “Oh, Lane, you scared me. Good, you’re up—we have church.”

  She couldn’t be serious. Lane had already sat outside again for hours yesterday at the farmers’ market—all in the name of cheese—and she had the sunburn to prove it. She’d even put in her time at the cheese shop. What else was she going to get roped into? Her mind searched for an excuse.

  “Also, we need you to milk Daisy before we head out.”

  “What?” So far, she’d managed to avoid milking the cows.

  “She needs milking. Noah took care of Wilhelmina and Ruthie, but he ran out of time before his big race this morning.”

  Her father still stood in the doorway of the linen closet, propping up the shelf with his shoulder.

  “I can’t,” Lane said. “I’m going to see Nate and then I have to drive home. I’ve already been here way longer than I planned, and I have a presentation tomorrow.”

  Working here had proved impossible—any changes Marshall wanted had barely been implemented, leaving her with a load to do when she got home that afternoon.

  She’d already resigned herself to the all-nighter ahead of her.

  Her mother stiffened and her entire demeanor changed. “You haven’t even been here a week.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry, but I have to get back. I’ve already explained what I’m up against at—”

  “Work, I know.” Her mom pressed her lips together and shook her head—barely—as if willing Lane’s words away.

  “Lane, at least stay for Sunday dinner,” her dad said. “Church, then dinner. That’s all. You’ll be on the road by two.”

  “No, Frank, don’t beg her.” Her mom had turned into a martyr in the last five seconds, the way only a mother could. “If she doesn’t want to be here with us, that’s fine. She has her work.”

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Lane said, wishing for the courage to say so much more.

  Dottie sighed. “We’re happy for you and proud of you, of course. You have a great career. But it seems to me that’s the only thing you have.”

  This wasn’t my first choice, remember? Is it my fault my sister is living the life I was supposed to live?

  Lane drew in a deep breath and exhaled quietly. Why fight it? She knew what she was going to do. She was going to milk a cow, go to church, then come back for family dinner, all because she could only find her backbone when she was standing in the office talking about some aspect of her job—never with her family.

  “Are you going to stand like that for the rest of the morning, Frank?” Dottie glared at him, then disappeared into her bedroom, leaving Lane face-to-shoulder with her father, who looked wholly uncomfortable holding up that shelf.

  “I was hoping she would help me,” he said forlornly.

  Lane moved toward the linen closet and put a hand underneath the broken shelf so her dad could inch his way out. He pulled the stacks of towels down, then took the shelf from her and set it on the floor. When he straightened, he faced her, broader and taller than Lane, but shorter and smaller than she remembered.

  “I’m glad you’re home.” His smile was slight and hard to decipher underneath his bushy gray mustache, but she saw it in his eyes. “It’s been good having you around again, even if you are always rushing around or staring at that phone or buried in your computer.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  A pause, and then, “Not everything is the way it seems, you know.”

  Lane wrapped her arms across her stomach, suddenly feeling on edge. “What do you mean?”

  “I know you think we all chose Lindsay over you, but that’s not the case.”

  “I don’t really want to talk about this.” She started to turn away, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. She stared down the hall, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “We lost you that day, and I still haven’t forgiven myself. For a long time I refused to speak to either of them—”

  “You walked Lindsay down the aisle. If that’s not a show of support, I don’t know what is.” Lane didn’t like this. She didn’t like the way her emotions were still so raw after all these years. She didn’t like the anger that bubbled just beneath her surface or the tears that clouded her eyes.

  “We’d already lost you, Lane. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another daughter.”

  Lane’s mouth had gone dry. “Then I was right. You made your choice.” She faced him. “I’m fine, Dad. I’ve moved on. You don’t have to worry about me at all anymore.”

  His eyes looked sad. “I will worry about you until you’re back for real. You can’t hold on to your anger like this. It’s not good for anyone.”

  Lane didn’t want to hear any more of what he had to say. She didn’t want to relive any of this humiliation for one more second. “I have to go milk a cow,” she said, and then she walked away.

  Church. Lane hadn’t been in months. She’d been raised in church, raised to believe in the importance of surrounding herself with like-minded people. But somewhere between the cliques in her youth group, the well-meaning but insensitive remarks of her parents’ friends, and the day Lindsay and Jasper walked down the steps as a married couple, church had lost whatever appeal it once held.

  She’d never tried to explain it to anyone, but the truth was, she’d found God in the strangest of places. In the shower. On the elliptical machine at the gym. Right in her own loft in the middle of the night.

  But like she did with everyone, she kept him at arm’s length too. Relationships were tricky and emotional, and she was careful to maintain a safe distance from heartbreak.

  You get that, right, God? You understand?

  Somehow she had to believe he did. After all, he’d given her this job and these responsibilities. It was up to her to do them well.

  Lane dragged her feet as she walked into Harbor Pointe Community Church. The old wooden building had been painted white—and repainted many times over the years. The people of Harbor Pointe kept it in good shape, though it didn’t have a particularly traditional feel inside. In the summer, the entire congregation often met down on the beach of Lake Michigan under an oversize white tent the church had purchased ages ago.

  Lane had never admitted it, but the services on the beach had always been her favorites, even as a kid. There was something about abandoning their sandals on the landing at the dunes and plodding through morning-cool sand to meet with Jesus. She supposed in some ways those were the services where she’d felt closest to him.

  Something inside her twisted at the memory. Part of her missed the way those services had made her feel.

  Things were simpler then. She didn’t know much about the world, but she knew God loved her. He’d made her and he loved her. How simple it sounded now.

  She pushed it away. She was fine with her casual conversations with God.

  “You probably don’t even remember what the inside of this church looks like, do you?” Her mother’s joke fell flat, sounding more like an accusation to Lane than anything. Lane ignored her, and her mom walked off in the direction of a small group of older women, who enveloped Dottie and started in with questions about Nate.

  Her dad made a beeline for the same pew the Kelley family had occupied since she was a girl, probably assuming Lane would follow. But she didn�
��t, instead standing alone at the back of the small sanctuary. Rows of wooden chairs had been set up to face the stage, which wasn’t deep or wide but still served its purpose. Lane took it all in, wishing she could vanish and wondering if there was a way to slip out without her parents noticing.

  She caught her mother’s eye from across the room and had her answer. No way her mom was letting her slide out of this one. Another thing that would never change.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Are you on your way home? Chloe had texted. I blocked off today. I’ll be at your place whenever you need me.

  Lane quickly typed back a reply. I’m at church. I’ll text you when I leave.

  I wish you could just stay there. You deserve the break.

  Too much to do. It’s going to be a late night.

  “You might want to put that away in here.”

  The deep baritone of Brooks’s voice startled her, but it was the nearness of his body at her side that had her nerves on edge. What was going on with her lately? This was Brooks, for pete’s sake. Hot but annoying Brooks.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.” She took a step away, but he was still close enough she could smell whatever woodsy soap he used. Too faint to be cologne, but still potent enough to make her want to continuously inhale. “People aren’t allowed to use cell phones in church?”

  “It’s an older crowd. They frown on Sunday morning technology.”

  When she dared a glance in his direction, she saw the lazy tilt of his grin and she knew he was just messing with her.

  She gave him a shove and looked away, hopefully before he saw her smile. Truth was, she found him as amusing as she did annoying. It was rare that she found anyone amusing.

  “Any word on Nate?”

  Lane shook her head slightly.

  “No news is good news, I guess.”

  She followed his gaze to the front of the church.

  “But it sure isn’t the same up there without him.”