Oh. Of course. The ring. She twisted it off her finger, bypassed his outstretched palm and chucked the diamond into the lake. It landed somewhere behind him with a gentle ploop. Tilting her head, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “If you want it back, you’ll have to swim for it.”
He squeezed his hand shut and stood slowly, his complexion pasty white. “I guess I deserved that. Goodbye, Lauren.”
She remained seated, watching the ripples from her ring expand in concentric circles across the lake and disappear. Just like that. Game over. Once she heard the crunch of gravel under his feet, she shifted in her chair to watch him go. Without a backward glance, Holden marched toward the taxi still idling near the road. When the tail lights were out of sight, she sagged against the back of the rocking chair and wept.
Blake stuffed the last bag of trash into the can outside of Jess’s garage and dug in his pocket for his keys. He waved to the last car load of his friends pulling out of the driveway. Getting way too old to stay out past midnight. Matthew Carter preached a heck of a sermon and he needed to get his butt in the pew to hear it, first thing in the morning.
“Hey.” Jess jogged toward him, pointing down toward the dock.
His heart shimmied when he recognized the unmistakable silhouette of Lauren still sitting in the rocking chair.
“Go talk to her, man. Nobody’s said a word to her since that guy left.”
Blake nodded. As he got closer to the dock, he could see her shoulders trembling and she swiped quickly at her cheeks. She was huddled against one armrest, knees pulled up under her chin.
“Go away,” she said, shivering.
Blake lowered himself into the other chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. He tipped his head back and admired the pale pink streaks brushed against the baby blue sky.
“It’s a beautiful night. Where’s lover boy?”
“O-o-on his ch-ch-chartered plane,” she stuttered, teeth chattering.
“Want to talk about it?” Blake shrugged out of his fleece jacket and handed it to her.
She shook her head, cocooning inside the jacket as fresh tears glistened on her cheeks. Blake resisted the urge to reach over and brush those tears away. It killed him to see her cry.
“C’mon, I’ll drive you home. Seth left with Molly Simmons.” He stood and jangled his keys.
She walked in front of him, wordless, across the yard to his truck. He liked the way she looked wrapped up in his jacket.
He held open her door, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo as she brushed past him. With a last wave to Jess, he jogged around the truck and slid behind the wheel.
“I know what you’re thinking and I don’t want to hear it,” she muttered as she stared out the window.
“Excuse me?” He slid the key into the ignition.
“I’m sure you’re thinking this is exactly what I deserve.” She gnawed on her thumbnail. “What goes around comes around, right?”
Blake turned the key, an ache filling his chest. “Is that what you think?”
She kept staring out the window, sniffling. He leaned over and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. “Hey, look at me.”
She turned away from the window and faced him. Her eyes were puffy and swollen.
“Listen. I have never wished for anything bad to happen to you. Even after you left. I wanted you to find whatever it is you were looking for. I want you to be happy, Lauren.”
Her face crumpled and a fresh wave of tears came. He fumbled in the console for a tissue and handed it to her.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered, dabbing at her cheeks.
“Then why don’t you explain it to me. What happened?”
“Holden and I aren’t getting married.”
He glanced at her left hand. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her bare finger. “You think I can’t relate?” He huffed out a breath and dragged his hand through his hair. “I know a thing or two about having a broken heart.”
She pulled his coat tighter around her body and shuddered. “I did something horrible after I left. Something unforgiveable. And I knew, somehow, I would have to pay.”
An icy chill crept up his spine. He pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
She trapped her lower lip behind her front teeth. “Never mind. I can’t do this. Please just take me home.”
He clenched his jaw and shifted into drive. Stubborn girl. It had been nine years. What could she possibly have done that was still so horrible after all this time? He stole a glance at her profile, his pulse stuttering at her cute little upturned nose. He knew one thing: that Holden fella was an absolute fool to let her go. He looked out his window, partly to check for oncoming traffic but also to conceal the smile he felt playing at the corner of his mouth. Maybe he didn’t have that coaching job nailed down yet, but he did have the only girl he’d ever loved riding next to him. This was his dream turned reality. An opportunity to show her how much he still cared. About her. About them.
nine
Lauren scraped the remnants of Sunday’s breakfast into the disposal and slid the last plate into the dishwasher. Grabbing the spray bottle of vinegar and water from under the sink, she gave the counter a thorough cleaning. If she kept busy, maybe she wouldn’t have to think about last night.
Still, Holden’s words echoed in her head. A little bit of trouble? Off the grid? She envisioned him holed up in his parent’s place at Sun Valley, prescribing painkillers to the neighbors. Ever since they met, she’d wrestled with revealing the truth about her past. Apparently she wasn’t the only one living a lie.
“Maybe we deserve each other,” she muttered, wiping the last of the vinegar from the counters. The reality of the situation was like an elephant parked on her chest. Everything she’d relied on was being yanked out from under her.
Shuffling a stack of papers, she glanced at the note her parents had left. They were at church and promised to save her a seat. She ignored the familiar pang of guilt over missing her brother’s sermon and covered the last of the waffles and bacon with a sheet of foil. Seth might drag himself out of bed eventually and come looking for breakfast.
Her phone vibrated on the granite countertop. She glanced at the screen and sighed. Mrs. Putnam. She wrestled with letting the call go to voicemail but couldn’t justify ignoring her. Grabbing the phone, she jabbed her finger at the screen then pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hello, my dear. Is this a good time?” Mrs. Putnam’s voice was soothing and melodic. Lauren imagined her sipping hot tea in her breakfast nook, overlooking her husband’s phenomenal rose garden.
“Yes, just working on the morning chores.” Lauren switched the phone to her other ear as she tugged wet sheets from the washer.
“Oh, my. I thought you’d be having breakfast with that handsome fiancé of yours.”
Lauren’s heart lurched. “Not today. What’s up, Mrs. P?” Although the older woman’s manners were impeccable, she rarely made a phone call without a specific purpose.
“I wanted to call and see if you made it to Alaska? I know your parents must be thrilled to meet Holden. How’s everything going?”
Lauren smiled. Doctor and Mrs. Putnam had found her stranded on the side of Highway 26, all her worldly possessions crammed in the trunk of her car. Eighteen years old with her last $50 stuffed inside her bra, they offered a job and a place to stay. Then they stood by and carried her through the darkest season of her young life. She didn’t want to burden them with any more problems, but she couldn’t mislead them, either.
“I’m here but Holden’s not.”
“Oh? Why? Did something come up?”
“You could say that. He dropped in just long enough to end our engagement.” She swallowed the lump that clogged her throat. It still didn’t seem real, even when she said the words out loud.
“Oh, dear. That’s rather unexpected, isn’t it?”
“Completely.”
“I’m so sorry things aren’t working out like you planned. I know you care deeply for Holden. But I can’t tell you how excited I am that you finally decided to go home. Dwight and I have been praying that you would get an opportunity to go.”
Lauren’s chest tightened. Mrs. Putnam had a way of drawing a conversation back to God’s will for her life. Although it was always a pithy bit of wisdom Lauren needed to hear, she didn’t feel like going there today. What she really needed was some air. Slipping out the back door, she plunked down on the top step.
“I knew my family needed me, but it’s worse than I thought. My Granny is losing her mind, if it isn’t gone already. Then she fell and my mother has to care for her. That leaves me to run a floundering bed and breakfast. It’s a bit much, quite frankly.”
“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” Mrs. Putnam said. “I know you treasure her so. I will pray for your time together, that it will be sweet and joyful.”
“So far it’s been anything but.”
“Lauren, we both know why you are there.”
“I can’t tell them,” she whispered.
“You have to stop running, sweetheart. This is eating you up. Tell them the truth.”
“What if they’re angry?” Lauren dabbed at the tears spilling onto her cheeks.
“What if they aren’t?”
Lauren shook her head. They’ll be so disgusted.
“I’ll let you go now, dear. Dwight and I are praying for you. We leave for Morocco on Wednesday and we’ll Skype you when we land in Casablanca. Doesn’t that sound grand?”
“Have a safe trip, Mrs. P. Give Dr. Putnam a hug for me.”
“Of course, dear. Bye now.”
Mitchell’s cold, wet snout nuzzled her bare arm. He dropped a scuffed tennis ball on the porch, tail wagging in eager anticipation. He sank low on his front paws then sprang back up, prancing on all fours.
“Pretty spry for an old guy, aren’t you?” She scratched behind his ears and he reciprocated with a lick on her cheek.
“One time. That’s it.” She tossed the ball into the woods and Mitchell flew off the steps in hot pursuit. A squirrel chattered and Mitchell disappeared into the thick undergrowth. I need to go for a long run.
She went back in and climbed the stairs to the loft. Her favorite New Balance running shoes were still in one of her suitcases, pinned against the side by a stack of jeans. Slipping into black nylon shorts and one of her brother’s old University of Washington shirts, she caught her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. Good grief. Fix your hair. After combing her fingers through the worst of the tangled mass, she gave up and tugged it all into a ponytail and dashed back down the stairs.
A cool breeze ruffled the tree branches. The rain fell in a gentle mist. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and stepped off the porch. Her shoes crunched against the gravel, keeping a steady rhythm as she jogged down the driveway. The tightness in her neck and shoulders uncoiled with every step. She pumped her arms, keeping her fists between her hips and her nose. If she focused on her technique then she wouldn’t have to think about the hard truth Mrs. Putnam spoke.
A dull ache formed under one rib. She ignored it and ran faster. Telling her family the truth now seemed pointless. She handled the crisis all on her own, far from home where no one could know her secret. Squeaky clean reputations remained intact. Dredging it all up now was foolish. Their shock and disappointment would be too much to bear, especially now that she’d heard more about Mallory.
She had rehearsed the conversation numerous times, pacing around the living room. It was a monologue, really, because she couldn’t bring herself to fully imagine her parents’ responses. Good girls didn’t do the things she’d done.
The shops on the edge of town came into view and she pressed forward, eager to escape her thoughts. At Main Street she turned toward the waterfront. Portland was a beautiful city but the view from Emerald Cove’s harbor was unmatched. She longed to see it again.
A plume of smoke hovered above the marina. The cruise ship sounded two long blasts of its horn as it eased away from the dock. A small crowd had gathered to watch. Several passengers stood at the ship’s railing, waving. They looked like dolls. The ship cut an impressive silhouette with its gleaming white hull towering several stories above the water.
Lauren jogged around the tourists as they meandered down the boardwalk. The smell of diesel fuel mixed with tangy salt water hung in the air. A young boy opened a cooler and cheered as the man next to him pulled out a silver fish. He tossed the fish on the make-shift counter designed for cleaning the day’s catch. Lauren slowed to a walk as the man ruffled the boy’s hair. The tender father-son moment hurt to watch. Time to go.
She turned away and collided with a firm, muscular chest clad in a mint-green button down shirt. Hot liquid splashed on her hand.
“Ow!” She pulled her hand back, clutching it protectively.
“Whoa,” Blake said, sucking his abdomen in and curling away from the coffee sloshing out of his cup. “Lauren, what are you doing?”
“I’m running.” She dabbed at the burn on her hand with the cuff of her sleeve.
“Let me see,” Blake reached for her hand but she shielded it from view.
“No. It’s fine.”
“At least let me put aloe on it. C’mon, Megan has some.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
“Megan?”
“My little sister. Remember her? She works right here in the coffee shop.”
She glanced at the Copper Kettle Coffee Company sign on the wall behind him. The skin on her hand was starting to sting. Some aloe would probably help.
“Megan has a job?” The same little girl who bounced a basketball incessantly around the gym was old enough to work?
“Yep.” Blake held the door open. “My baby sister is growing up.”
The rumble of the espresso machine drowned out all conversation. A teenager with blond pigtails and wide-set blue eyes stood behind the counter, steaming milk. She raised one eyebrow at Blake and turned a dial on the machine.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I bumped into Lauren and spilled my coffee on her hand. Can I borrow your aloe?”
Megan’s eyes flicked from Blake to Lauren and back to the silver frothing cup in her hand. She nodded.
“Megan? I can’t believe it. How long have you worked here?” Lauren watched as Megan deftly poured milk into a paper cup, topped it with a dollop of foam and clicked the plastic lid in place.
“Just started two weeks ago. Here,” Megan slid a tube across the granite counter. She turned to greet another customer. Blake opened the aloe.
“I can do it,” Lauren said. The last thing she needed was Blake rubbing anything on her.
“Can I buy you some coffee?”
Lauren examined the angry red splotch on her hand before tentatively dabbing the gooey gel on it. He was just offering coffee. What could it hurt?
She nodded.
“Meg, hook this girl up. What’s your pleasure?” Blake studied her.
“I’ll have a grande non-fat sugar-free vanilla extra hot no whip latte. Please.”
Megan narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “Okay. You want a refill, Blake?”
“Please.”
Lauren watched Megan dump syrup into a shot glass and tamp coffee into the machine.
“That’s quite the order,” Blake said, his full lips curving into a wide smile.
A girl could get lost in those dimples.
“Thanks. What can I say? I know what I like.”
The silence between them was deafening. She glanced up from her hand to see Blake’s brows knitted together.
His eyes bore into her. “Is that right?”
She instantly regretted her words and wanted to bolt back out the door. But her feet felt glued to the black and white checkered linoleum, as if they didn’t quite get the message.
She raised her chin and met his gaze. “I thought
we were talking about coffee. You look nice. What’s the occasion?”
He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his khakis and rocked back on his heels. “Thanks. Just came from church. I wanted to hear your brother preach. He did a great job.”
Lauren felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’m sure he did.”
“Coffee’s up.” Megan slipped cardboard sleeves around both cups. “Careful, they’re extra hot.”
Lauren ignored the sarcasm and took her drink off the counter.
Blake handed his sister some cash. “Keep the change.”
Megan flashed him a smile. “Thanks.”
“It looks like the rain has stopped. Want to take this conversation outside?” Blake tipped his head toward the door.
She nodded and followed him out to the white plastic table and chairs in front of the coffee shop. She glanced at the adjoining storefront with an orange-red kayak and a paddle propped in the window. Emerald Cove Rafting & Kayaking marched across the window in an edgy white font.
“Is this your new shop?” She studied the mannequin posed opposite the kayak in a deep purple and black wet suit.
“You like it?”
“It makes me want to jump in a kayak. Who helped you with the design?”
Blake feigned a wounded expression. “Who says I had help? You know, you’re starting to give me a complex. First you can’t believe it’s me on the front of our brochure. Now you’re implying that I don’t know anything about marketing.”
She ducked her head and twisted her coffee cup around inside its sleeve. A giggle escaped, despite her best intentions to stifle it.
“So Jeremy did the window?” she teased.
“No, I hired a friend from Anchorage.” He concealed a smile with his coffee cup.
Lauren felt the unmistakable twinge of jealousy. Friend? What kind of friend?
“Oh.” She took a long sip of her latte and pushed the image of Blake working closely with a beautiful woman from her mind. Honestly. Get a grip.
“Shannon recommended her, they were roommates freshman year. We could use somebody around here with an eye for aesthetics.” Blake studied her. “What about you? Did you really leave town because you desperately wanted to be a nurse?”
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