If not for this pesky virginity, maybe she might be tempted to indulge in a fling.
She frowned and scrubbed at her face. So he was attracted to her. Yes, she found that insanely flattering. She would be lying if she said otherwise. He had been married to a supermodel, for heaven’s sake.
But for crying out loud. The man had hurt her enough for one lifetime, hadn’t he?
Tucker nosed her hands, probably still trying to figure out what the weird humans he’d been saddled with were up to. She braced herself with one hand on the door while giving the dog a dutiful scratch.
The things he had said once about her had been burned like acid in her heart. If she were truthful with herself, that one horrible moment, more than anything else in her life—a few words said casually by the boy who held her heart and didn’t even know it—had led her to this moment. They were a big part of the reason she sometimes felt like a dry, frigid wasteland.
She had given him and those words—and the vast betrayal from someone she thought was at least a friend—far too much power over her.
All through the rest of her teens and into her early twenties she had let them shape who she was, what she did. Right after, in that hot miserable time, she had thought she could lose the weight. She had tried starving herself, even forced herself to throw up a few times. But after two months—once he left Hope’s Crossing for the Pioneers—she had only lost ten pounds and felt worse than ever, so she had given in to the inevitable.
She ate Pop’s food all she wanted, she added ice cream to her giant slice of pie, she stashed junk food under her bed for a late-night snack, all while she watched Spence’s career in the major leagues explode.
She let out a painful breath she hadn’t realized had been clogging her chest.
There were plenty of decent guys in Hope’s Crossing. Okay, maybe they weren’t exactly popping up like wildflowers in August, but she could find a few if she looked hard enough—or widened her search to other surrounding towns.
She had a date with one this coming weekend, actually. She had been thinking about calling the whole thing off when she saw Alex the next day at the birthday lunch but she abruptly changed her mind.
A big tough army buddy of Sam Delgado’s was exactly what she needed to take her mind off the one man in the world she shouldn’t want.
* * *
“GOOD FRIENDS, GOOD food and birthday cake. What more does a woman need in a day? I mean, seriously?” The very pregnant Claire McKnight beamed at her group of friends while a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees in her small patio garden behind the bead store.
Sweet scents floated around them from the flowers growing in bright clumps around the edges of the little fenced garden and sunlight filtered through the trees.
Nearly all the members of the book club, Books and Bites, had gathered during the lunch hour to celebrate the birthday of one of their newer members, Janie Hamilton, a widowed mother of four who had moved to Hope’s Crossing a few years earlier.
“Thank you all for coming,” Janie said. “I know how busy everyone is. It means a lot that you would arrange your schedules to be here.”
“Are you kidding?” Maura McKnight smiled at her. “This is the perfect way to start out the week.”
“Why can’t everybody’s birthday fall on a Monday this year?” Charlotte asked with a smile.
“This cake is fantastic,” Katherine Thorne said. “Lemon angel food cake with strawberries. Delicious.”
“Of course it is,” Alex McKnight said smugly. Alex had no problem taking praise for her cooking, which was always divine. Charlotte also appreciated the lowfat choice in a cake.
“Everything has been perfect,” Janie assured them.
“I’m only sorry I didn’t think to invite some sexy guys along for you single girls,” Alex said.
Janie rolled her eyes. “Who has time for sexy guys?”
Katherine raised her hand, earning laughs all around.
Charlotte didn’t have time to spare, either. That didn’t keep her from replaying in her head, again and again, that kiss with Spence the night before.
“I know people are busy and some of you have to get back to work,” Claire said, “but I can’t host a birthday party without throwing in some beading. I was in a mood, so this morning I put together some bracelet kits for a party favor. They’re memory wire with beads in pretty summer colors. Nothing too time-consuming. Of course you could always stay out here and chat, if you’d rather take the kits home for later.”
“I could use a new bracelet,” Mary Ella said. “I haven’t done nearly enough beading lately.”
She, Katherine, Claire and Claire’s mother, Ruth, headed inside. Charlotte went, too, watchful for an opportunity to talk to Mary Ella.
“This is what I was thinking,” Claire said. “If you don’t like the colors, you’re welcome to pick out some that work better for you.”
The bracelet was simple, seed beads and glittery crystals strung on a quadruple coil of memory wire. Claire had picked turquoise, a pale rose and a soft, warm brown.
For some reason, the colors made Charlotte think of Peyton and the cute shirt she had been wearing the night Charlotte had seen the girl and her father at Pop’s café.
She didn’t have anything that color but she could make it for the girl, she thought. Maybe it would help cheer her up about the prospect of living in Hope’s Crossing and possibly spark an interest in beading.
She sat down and started organizing the beads for the project into one of the trays Claire provided.
Mary Ella sat beside her and, as their hands worked the beads onto the wire, the conversation between the women drifted around Claire’s upcoming birth, Alex’s restaurant and a new boutique coming to town. Finally, during a lapse in the conversation, Charlotte made her move.
“Mary Ella, I need your help.”
Her former high school English teacher raised an eyebrow above the rim of her little glasses. “Of course, my dear. Are you having trouble with the pattern?”
“Not the bracelet. I need to ask a favor. It’s kind of a big one.”
She was aware that everyone at the worktable was now listening in, curiosity on their features. Maybe she should have taken Mary Ella aside separately. If she didn’t think A Warrior’s Hope was a good idea, the others might be slow to throw their support behind it.
“Actually, I could use help from everybody. I know you’re probably thinking we have enough going on and don’t need to take on more projects. I agree, I really do. But I think this could make a difference.”
“You haven’t said what it is,” Mary Ella pointed out. “What do you need?”
Charlotte’s fingers fumbled with the crystal she was trying to pick up. She was nervous, she realized, afraid they would think the idea was stupid. She hated these moments when her confidence seemed as tiny and hard to manage as the blasted seed beads.
“It’s Spencer Gregory’s idea, actually. He enlisted my help, for obvious reasons.”
Alex looked intrigued. “Obvious reasons? What obvious reason would Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory have for asking your help?”
Charlotte could feel herself blush, which only made Alex look at her more curiously. “Why, Dylan, of course,” she answered.
She was screwing this up. These were her friends, women she loved and admired, and she had no reason to be nervous to talk about anything with them.
She drew in a breath and tried again. “He had this idea. Spencer, I mean. I think it’s a wonderful one but it’s something that will take a great deal of effort to organize, and we’ll need community support. That’s where you all come in, if you’re willing to get behind it.”
“Why would we want to get behind a drug dealer?” Ruth Tatum, Claire’s mother, spoke with her usual blunt negativity.
“Ruthie, let’s hear the idea before we jump in and say we oppose it.” Mary Ella’s voice was calm, serene, as if she were addressing a seventh-hour class full of bored and restless teenagers.
Charlotte deeply admired the woman’s class and style. She didn’t wonder that Harry Lange had fallen hard for her. The only mystery was why Mary Ella returned his affection.
“As you all know very well, the recreation center is open now and people seem to be enjoying it. Harry did a good thing for Hope’s Crossing.”
“He has been known to do a good thing here and there,” Mary Ella murmured.
Looking amused, Maura cleared her throat in a meaningful way that Charlotte didn’t quite understand.
“Anyway, Spencer had the idea of taking these great resources, both the recreation facilities at the center and the natural resources around Hope’s Crossing, and opening them up to a wider population. He would like to start an adaptive recreation therapy program for injured veterans.”
Nobody said anything, they only watched her, and she felt itchy and uncomfortable, wishing she knew what they were thinking.
“I know it’s ambitious. Spence has done a great deal of research over the weekend and he believes it’s feasible. The first major task would be constructing some lodging near the recreation center. He’s thinking several small wheelchair-accessible cabins on that strip of land near the river.”
“That won’t be cheap,” Katherine pointed out.
“No, but I was thinking we can use volunteer labor for some of the work. Like we do with Habitat for Humanity. You and Jack help out with that, don’t you, Maura?”
“When we can,” Maura answered. Charlotte knew now that Maura and Jack had a small active one-year-old as well as her bookstore and his architectural firm, their schedules were hectic.
“I realize we just finished our Giving Hope Day, which is a really wonderful way to help each other. I love that about our community, and I think it’s safe to say everyone else who lives here loves it, too. Hope’s Crossing is such a warm, friendly place. Don’t you think we could reach out now and take that same spirit of caring to others? Offer a little lift to many who have sacrificed a great deal for our sakes?” she finished in a rush, then held her breath, waiting for their reaction.
Katherine Thorne was the first to speak. “Recreation therapy for wounded veterans. How could that help?”
Charlotte thought of the information she had scrutinized the night before and her own research online, long into the night when she should have been sleeping.
“Similar programs have been amazingly effective, providing safe, comfortable, fun opportunities for them to heal and to push the limits of their capabilities. Spence is suggesting adaptive skiing and snowboarding in the winter and the rest of the year focusing on water sports like boating, fishing, waterskiing. Hope’s Crossing is beautifully situated to take great advantage of our natural resources as well as the innate welcoming kindness that resides here.”
Katherine pursed her lips. “Spencer Gregory came up with this?”
“It was his daughter’s idea at first. Dylan and I were having dinner at the café the other night while Spence and Peyton were there. She asked me what happened to him. I gave her the short version, then when Spence was talking about how he would like to expand the recreation center’s mission, she suggested something to help wounded veterans like Dylan.
“What a thoughtful girl,” Mary Ella said.
“She is,” Charlotte answered.
Katherine gazed at Charlotte, forehead furrowed a little. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t thrilled when Harry threw his weight around, as he tends to do—I’m sorry, Mary Ella, you know he does—about bringing Spencer Gregory back to town. After everything he’s done, I didn’t see why we had to entrust him with that kind of responsibility. But if these are the kinds of ideas he has, I’m a big enough woman to admit I might have been wrong.”
Some of the tension in Charlotte’s shoulders eased at what amounted to a bold declaration of support. Katherine was on the Hope’s Crossing city council and gracefully wielded plenty of influence of her own.
“Thank you, Katherine. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. As Spence rightfully pointed out to me last night, we should look at the merits of the idea itself, not the personal history of the man who wants to make it a reality.”
As she spoke, she felt that stab of sympathy for him again. How difficult it must be to have no choice but to face his mistakes everywhere he turned.
“I mentioned to him that you might be in a position to help fast-track any necessary building permits.”
“I don’t know about that but I can probably bring Mayor Beaumont around.”
“Thank you. I’ll let him know.”
She turned. “Mary Ella?”
The other woman gave her a long considering look that would have made her nervous if she didn’t catch a hint of amusement in the depths of her green eyes. “Let me guess. You want me to convince Harry this is a good idea.”
“Yes,” she said shamelessly. “Spence planned to talk to him this morning but I didn’t think it would hurt to appeal to the real power brokers in Hope’s Crossing.”
Mary Ella and Katherine both laughed roughly. “Is that what we are?” Mary Ella asked.
“Why not? The women at this table take care of business. You don’t wait around for somebody to tell you what to do. You dig in and do it yourself.”
It was true and she loved them all for it.
“Well, I think it is a good idea. I love this community but I’m not sure we always have our arms as open wide to outsiders as we ought. We can sometimes be too insular, I think. I’ve heard that from new people moving into town,” Mary Ella said.
“I didn’t see that at all,” Janie said. “You all welcomed me from the very beginning.”
Mary Ella smiled at her and touched her hand softly with one of hers. “I’m glad. But there’s always room to improve. This could be an excellent way to take that spirit of hope and caring we’ve had the past few years and help people outside of Hope’s Crossing.”
Charlotte nodded, more of that fine tension seeping away. Why was she ever worried? Even if her friends had hated the idea, they would have been kind in their rejection of it. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“What do you need from us?” Claire asked, always ready to step up, even though she was in the last weeks of her pregnancy.
“Spencer is still in the very early planning stages. He came over last night with pages of research he’s done on similar organizations. He’s talking about committing funds from his own charity and talking to friends in professional sports who might be looking for a cause.”
She tried to push away the memory of everything else that had happened the night before but it seeped in anyway. That was the real reason she had spent the night awake, trying to distract herself from the warmth and wonder of his kiss.
“Do you think Harry might be on board?” she asked quickly. “Without his support, we all know this idea won’t go anywhere, no matter how worthwhile the cause.”
Mary Ella looked pensive. “I can’t answer that with certainty but I could easily see Harry supporting something like this. I won’t mention that I have ways of bringing him around to my way of thinking.”
“Please don’t,” Alex urged.
Mary Ella laughed. “I don’t think I need to resort to them. Harry and I have talked before about starting some sort of organization to help people outside of Hope’s Crossing. And unfortunately, when it comes to wounded soldiers, the need just seems
endless, doesn’t it?”
“I think it’s a great idea, too,” Katherine said. “I’m ready to help in whatever ways you need.”
“Same here,” her daughter-in-law, Evie, said. “I’m sure I could convince Brodie to host a fund-raiser at one of his restaurants or cater something at the ski resort.”
“I mentioned to Spence we might be able to turn to you for advice in a professional capacity.”
“I don’t know about that.” Evie shifted in her chair. “I’m a pediatric therapist, remember. I have no experience with wounded veterans.”
“True, but you have far more knowledge about rehabilitating people with injuries, especially brain injuries, than anyone I know. I think your help would be invaluable in coming up with the kinds of activities that would be both effective and fun.”
“I would have to talk to some of my connections in therapy circles. I can make some calls and see if I can find someone a little more qualified who might be willing to consult on a pro bono basis.”
Ruth remained silent, which Charlotte considered another victory.
“Thank you. Thank you, all.” Charlotte felt a little teary as she looked around the beading table full of women she admired and loved who were immediately ready to jump in and help, simply because she asked it of them.
She thought of Dylan, lost and isolated up in his mountain retreat. Why couldn’t he see the healing peace that opening his life and his heart to others could bring?
The other night at the café, he had implied that no one could help a wounded soldier except somebody who had gone through the same thing. Now that the project was moving from a vague idea to something more concrete, would he be willing to see the benefits? Or would he continue to tell her she was wasting her time?
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