“I can be there in ten. I only have a few minutes. I’ve got subcontractors showing up early this morning.”
“Perfect. I’ll put on the coffee.”
She finished braiding her hair the moment his pickup pulled up in front of her house. When she saw her brother climb out alone, without Cassie or Bridger, she felt a sudden intense longing to see her niece and nephew. She hadn’t seen them in days and all at once she missed them desperately.
“I’ve got toast and your omelet is nearly done,” she said when she opened the door to him.
“You didn’t have to fix me breakfast,” her brother said gruffly.
“I wanted to. I’m sure you didn’t have time to eat this morning in the chaos of sending the kids off to school.”
“I had a cup of coffee and planned to grab a breakfast sandwich on my way to the site.”
“This is better.”
She set the omelet down at the table, grabbed a piece of toast for herself and sat down across from him.
“How are Cass and Bridge? Next week is the last week of school, isn’t it? Are they excited about summer?”
Luke shrugged, not looking at her as he started working on the omelet. “I suppose. We’ve almost got the schedule figured out. Mrs. Roberts can only watch them half the day since she has her grandchildren in the afternoons. We’ll make do with summer camps and I’ll take them with me on the site. Cassie thinks she’s old enough to stay home alone with Bridge, but that’s not happening.”
“I’ll help wherever you need me. They can always come here.”
Day care had been a constant battle for Luke the last seven years, probably his biggest stress and expense.
She was angry all over again at her sister-in-law for the chaos she had left behind.
“What’s this about?” Luke finally said after he was nearly done with his omelet. “What did you need to talk to me about? And why the hell didn’t you tell me Elliot Bailey went with you to Colorado? Are you two a thing now?”
She had never kept secrets from Luke. Throughout their tumultuous childhood, he had been her rock and her best friend. She couldn’t start now.
The half slice of toast she had nibbled seemed to congeal in her stomach. “He wanted to follow up on a possible lead in Elizabeth’s case.”
Dark eyes murky with betrayal, he shoved back his chair and stood up. “And you drove him? The man thinks I killed my wife and you merrily gave him a ride so he could prove it?”
“I wanted him to find evidence that would prove you had nothing to do with Elizabeth’s disappearance. Luke, that’s exactly what he did!”
Luke stared at her for a long moment, then slowly lowered himself back to the kitchen chair. “You...what?”
“We found out what happened. Or at least where she went that night.”
“What do you mean? What did you learn?”
She had to tell him, no matter how difficult. She swallowed hard. “Luke. Elizabeth left on her own. We found—” She corrected herself. “Elliot found a trucker who says she found a woman matching Elizabeth’s description in a truck-stop restroom outside of Boise. She was crying and in despair. The trucker, Peg McGeary, says she gave the woman a ride as far as Pendleton, Oregon, but doesn’t know what happened after that.”
“Pendleton.”
The word sounded raw, strangled, as if Luke couldn’t quite make his vocal cords cooperate.
“Yes. She’s certain of it. Do you know what this means? It means you didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance! She was alive when she left Haven Point and Elliot says there are too many witnesses who saw you here that night and again first thing in the morning for you to have played a part. From the time the trucker dropped her off and she might have had the chance to contact you, you wouldn’t have had time to follow her there and...” Her voice faltered. She couldn’t say the rest.
“To follow her there and kill her.” He said the words flatly, with no emotion, but his eyes looked anguished and her heart ached for him.
She wanted to touch him in comfort but somehow sensed he wouldn’t welcome any gesture from her right now.
“Don’t you see? This clears you. Elliot says so. He says as far as he’s concerned, Elizabeth chose to leave on her own and there’s no law against that.”
Luke gazed down at his plate then up at her, his expression haunted. “So that’s it. I’m just supposed to say, thanks for confirming I didn’t kill my wife, which I’ve been saying all along for the last seven freaking years. I was just a lousy husband, terrible enough that she walked away from her children rather than stay married to me.”
He didn’t deserve this. After all they had endured when they were young and the ugliness of their home life—all the times he had protected her and comforted her and sacrificed for her—Luke deserved a happy ending. She ached that she couldn’t give him that.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So, so sorry.”
“I need to go. I’m late.” Luke stood up. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Luke.”
“I can’t talk about this right now. I’ll see you later.”
He spun around and headed for the door, and she watched him leave, wondering why everything she tried to do turned out so horribly wrong.
* * *
SHE DIDN’T WANT to be here.
Two days later, Megan walked into her friend McKenzie Kilpatrick’s living room, wishing she had been able to come up with a good excuse to avoid this gathering of the Haven Point Helping Hands.
She could have pleaded illness or trouble at the inn, but that would have been cowardly. She was one of the co-organizers of this effort, a combined potluck and service project to make little knitted hats for babies in the newborn ICU in Shelter Springs.
This was an important project, one she cared about. More than that, she sensed she needed to be here. She missed her friends and could only benefit by surrounding herself with their strength and compassion and enthusiasm for life.
“You look like hell.”
Yeah. So much for their compassion. She glanced over at Wyn Emmett, seated across the table from her. “Do I?”
“What’s wrong, honey?” Eliza Caine asked, always concerned for others.
“Are you nervous about your photography thing?” Linda Fremont asked. “I sure would be, if I were you. All those people there to judge me? No thanks.”
Right. She had the showing in a handful of days to worry about as well. Familiar panic started to well up, until she met Julia Winston’s gaze. Her friend rolled her eyes surreptitiously at Linda’s typical negativity and Megan’s panic receded a little.
“That is certainly stressful,” she agreed.
“But exciting, too,” Julia said firmly, squeezing her hand. “I can’t wait to see the show. It’s going to be amazing.”
The town librarian quickly changed the subject to the summer reading program she was starting up and Megan sat back with her knitting, finding comfort in the steady, calming motion.
She hadn’t seen her brother in two days. He wasn’t returning her calls and she assumed he needed time to process everything. She had spoken with Cassie, who told her Luke was in a mood and didn’t have much to say to anyone.
She listened to the familiar gossip with half an ear, about who was expecting a baby, whose child had taken a summer job somewhere, who was planning a cruise vacation in a few weeks.
It was nice to be distracted from her own troubles for a time. The buffet table bulged with food but she could only pick a bowl of soup and a little salad. She made her way to the tables McKenzie had set up and was trying to force herself to eat a bite of salad when she overheard Charlene Bailey at the next table over, talking to Barbara Serrano.
“I don’t know what to do with that oldest son of mine. Do you know he was shot last month and I’m only now hearing about i
t?”
Elliot finally had told his mother about his injury. It was about time! Had he told her everything, or only bits and pieces?
“You’re kidding!” Barbara exclaimed. “That’s crazy! Shot? Why wouldn’t he tell you?”
Megan tried to listen in to the conversation without making her interest obvious.
“I suppose he didn’t want to worry me. Doesn’t he know I already spend every moment of the day worrying for all my children?”
She could only imagine what it would be like from Charlene’s standpoint, with nearly all of her children involved in law enforcement in some capacity or other—at least until Wyn had left police work to become a social worker. Now Wyn was married to a police officer, though.
“Elliot was always such a serious boy. He never gave you a moment of trouble, did he?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but sometimes I wish he had. He’s too serious all the time, if you want the truth.”
Megan chewed the inside of her lip to keep from protesting. Did Charlene even know her son? The kind man who could help a would-be thief, simply because she had asked and because he saw a need? Or who risked his life and his career to save innocent girls embroiled in the sex trade?
Elliot Bailey did his best to play by the rules, to be the man his parents always expected of him, but inside he had a rebellious spirit he tried hard to conceal.
“Maybe that’s what makes him such a good writer, able to wring out emotion from his readers,” Barbara went on. “Those books of his are gripping—thought-provoking and well-written and compelling. Once I start one, I can’t put it down. You must be so proud of him.”
“I am. He’s a good man. The most like his father of any of our children.”
Even from a table over, Megan could hear Charlene’s heavy sigh. “I only wish he would find someone, like his siblings all have. I don’t know how that’s supposed to happen when he works all the time. He tells me he’s happy, that he’s married to his work, but he seems so lonely sometimes.”
Barbara said something in response that Megan couldn’t hear.
“He has so much love inside him,” Charlene went on, “if only he could let down his guard enough to offer it to the right woman. If you want the truth, I suspect he’s given his heart to someone already.”
“Is he dating someone?”
Charlene shook her head. “Not that he’s told me. It’s just a mother’s instinct. I think he’s had his heart broken at some point, probably by some foolish woman too shortsighted to know what she was giving up. Like I said, he’s the most like his father of our children. Once Elliot gives his heart to a woman, that’s it. It’s over.”
Megan’s heart ached at her own stupidity. She loved Elliot. Why couldn’t she find the courage to take this chance with him?
She couldn’t bear another moment of this conversation about Elliot. She had to get out of here. She set her fork down, but somehow in her awkwardness, she managed to knock her soup bowl, and a healthy portion of Barbara’s delicious minestrone splashed out. Both of the older women looked over with concerned features.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Barbara asked.
No. She wasn’t all right. She was stupid and frightened and had thrown away something beautiful and right. “Only clumsy,” she mumbled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. Excuse me. I’ll clean this up.”
A few moments later, Wynona, McKenzie and Julia came into the kitchen, their features concerned.
“All right. What’s going on?” Julia asked.
Megan forced a smile. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Maybe because you’ve been standing at the sink for five minutes trying to get that dishcloth wet,” Wyn said. “It’s not necessary anyway. We’ve already cleaned up the spill.”
“Oh.” She looked down at the dishcloth in her hand, her throat thick with ridiculous emotions.
“Did you burn yourself on the soup?” Wyn asked.
“No. It’s just...” To her deep and abiding horror, she burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Through her tears, she saw the other three women exchange worried looks. “Don’t apologize for crying,” McKenzie said. “It’s delicious soup and I would cry, too, if I spilled even one precious drop.”
The ridiculousness of that response surprised a laugh out of her. “It’s not the soup. It’s...” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know how to answer. Everything was so blasted complicated.
“Let me guess. Elliot,” Wynona said simply.
Megan caught her breath. “Why would you—? I don’t—We’re not—” She could complete none of those sentences.
“Oh, honey.” Wynona gave her a sad smile filled with so much knowledge and compassion that tears spilled out again.
Julia looked confused. “I don’t get it. What does Elliot have to do with anything?”
“Only that he’s been in love with our Megan for years. And I suspect she returns his feelings but is afraid to admit it to anyone, especially herself.”
McKenzie looked shocked. “Elliot? Mr. Roboto?”
“He’s not a robot,” Megan snapped. “He’s dedicated and caring. He’s funny and kind and compassionate. He risked his life and his job to save people who needed help and was shot in the process. He’s completely wonderful.” She heard her own words and realized there was no point hiding it from anyone, especially herself.
“And I’m in love with him.”
Wyn laughed a little and hugged her. “I suspected as much. I’ve thought so for a few years now.”
“A few years? That’s impossible. He’s only been back in town a few weeks. Before that, we didn’t have much to do with each other.”
“Okay, maybe I wasn’t sure if you were in love with him, but I could always tell there was something between the two of you, just simmering beneath the surface. You both tried too hard to pretend otherwise when you were together.”
Had it been so obvious to his family? She could feel her face heat. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Ask Katrina. We’ve had a bet going for years on how long it would take the two of you to get together. I’m losing, by the way. I had no idea Elliot could move at the speed of zero when it came to matters of the heart. Katrina knew otherwise.”
“It doesn’t...bother you? I mean, I was dating Wyatt when he died. Doesn’t it seem strange to you, the idea of Elliot and I, uh, together?”
Not that they were—or ever would be—together. She had made certain of that. Her heart ached again.
Wynona hugged her. “I don’t find it strange at all. It’s perfect. You and Elliot mesh, somehow, in a way I never quite saw with Wyatt. He was my twin and I loved him dearly and miss him every single day, but even when you were dating him, I couldn’t make the pieces fit somehow. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t see the two of you together long-term. I don’t have the same problem seeing you and Elliot together.”
“We’re not together. At all. You should know that. We...fought.”
Wynona looked concerned. “Oh. I was hoping you might know where he is.”
The implications of that took a moment to sink in. When they did, she straightened. “Where he is? What do you mean?”
“Mom’s been frantic, though she’s trying not to show it. He took off a few days ago. He’s not answering calls or texts. We thought maybe he had gone back to work, but they called the house looking for him. Did you know he had been shot?”
“Shot?” Julia and McKenzie both exclaimed at the same time.
Megan didn’t answer but her silence was apparently all the confirmation Wyn needed. “Of course you knew.” She shook her head. “He told you but didn’t say a word to his family. We didn’t know a thing until his commanding officer or special agent in charge or whatever he was talked to Marshall and told him everything.”
Wyn gave her a closer look. “You know. He told you, didn’t he?”
“What happened?” Julia asked. “How was he shot?”
“The guy who called, an Agent Burrows, told Marsh that Elliot had been suspended and was under review for staging an unauthorized rescue where a suspect was killed. Do you know that much?”
“Yes.”
“It was a sex-trafficking ring, apparently,” Wyn explained to the other two women. “Elliot caught wind of it and insisted on rescuing a dozen young girls who were about to be moved around the country.”
“In the process, he jeopardized another investigation,” Megan explained.
“Elliot did that?” McKenzie sounded astonished. “Our Elliot?”
Her Elliot. He had always been her Elliot.
“After a shoot-out with the suspect, Elliot was injured and the other man was killed,” Wyn said. “But we found out last night, apparently one of the girls he rescued is the granddaughter of a high-ranking diplomat in a province in China. He’s not in trouble. They want to give him a commendation—but they have to find him first.”
“I don’t know where he is. He hasn’t checked out but I haven’t seen his vehicle outside his cabin since we returned from Colorado earlier this week.”
Wyn stared. “He went to Colorado with you? Man, that guy knows how to keep secrets. So do you, for that matter.”
She did. Mostly she was good at keeping secrets from herself. She was in love with Elliot Bailey and she couldn’t pretend otherwise. Not anymore. She loved him and somehow she had to find the courage and strength to trust him and herself.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“ARE YOU READY to open the doors?” Mary Ella asked with a warm, bracing smile.
No. She would never be ready. Megan wanted to bar the entrance to the Lange Gallery with any large piece of furniture she could drag in front of the doors and then stand in front to bar the way with her own body, just to be safe.
She didn’t want to do this. What if everyone hated her work? What if they thought she was terrible? A talentless poser?
The Cottages on Silver Beach Page 24