by Julia London
But at the moment, he hardly cared. They were going to have a swim party, even if it killed Riley Ann to do so.
16
One of the benefits of Jane’s job, she quickly discovered, was the running trail down to and around the lake. Carla didn’t mind if Jane ran early before the kids got up. Of course on weekends, Jane could run as far and as long as she liked.
That Sunday morning, she had her iPod and was running a quick pace to the beat of Pearl Jam. As the trail was a little rocky, she had her head down, her thoughts a million miles from the trail, shuffling between her untouched thesis, the news from Emma Harper about the state of the paper’s records, and, naturally, Jonathan.
On the public path next to the lake, Jane happened to look up and see another runner approaching her. His stride, fast and strong, looked easy for him. She envied that kind of runner, the sort that didn’t seem the least bit winded by three miles.
As he drew closer, Jane realized it was Asher. She quickly put her head down and ran past, hoping and praying he didn’t notice her—
She jumped when his hand touched her arm. She reluctantly stopped, pulled the earbuds from her ears, hoped she wasn’t too sweaty, and said, “Hi.”
An unshaven Asher, dressed in shorts, another butchered T-shirt, and a cap, looked confused. His gaze flicked over her, and then he grinned.
He grinned.
His face was transformed with that smile. His good looks were suddenly approachable. His green eyes shone and one cheek, Jane couldn’t help notice, was dimpled. “You’re a runner, huh?” he asked, seemingly pleased by it. “I didn’t know that.” His gaze slid down to her bare legs.
Jane looked down, too. “In the loosest interpretation of the word, maybe,” she said and glanced up again.
“You seemed like you were running to me. What are you listening to?”
“Pearl Jam.”
“Good choice,” Asher said, nodding approvingly. “I lost my iPod in Germany.”
“Bummer.”
“I’ll say,” Asher said. His eyes were shining with amusement, and Jane was surprised by how that seemed to trickle down her spine. She could only imagine what it must be like to be romantically involved with him, to have the smile bestowed on her on a daily basis. Lucky wench, Tara or whoever it was, because that was a sexy, charming smile.
“So what kind of distances are you running?”
“Distances? Oh no,” Jane said, waving a hand at him. “No distances. I mean, I’ve run a couple of five ks to see if I could, but mostly I run to . . .” Her mind went blank. She tried to think of the right word, any word. She ran for release, to think, to not think, to mourn.
His smile deepened at her inability to speak. “Me, too,” he said, as if he understood the complex reasons she ran. Was that even possible?
Asher looked down the path from where he’d come. “Want to run together? It’s another mile to the trail’s end and I could use the extra mileage.”
Jane instantly had the image of him practically sailing along and hearing her make some awful wheezing noises as she tried to breathe, not unlike a wounded cow. “Oh, no,” Jane said. “I’d hold you up.”
“I doubt that.” His smile was slow and easy. “Come on. I’m going to run down there. You’re going to run down there. So let’s run.” Jane hesitated; Asher put his hand on the small of her back and gave her a nudge forward. “You can’t pretend I’m not here, can you?”
“Ah . . .” No, she could not ignore him. Not possibly. So Jane started at her normal pace, and Asher easily fell in beside her.
Neither of them said much as they ran down to the lake. While Jane concentrated on breathing, Asher pointed out a couple of things to her—the crumbling remains of an old one-roomed schoolhouse from the pre-lake days when a settlement was built on the banks of the river. The first bait shop on the lake that was now a private boathouse.
Mostly, they just ran. Jane was keenly aware of him beside her, of his strength and the easy way he ran with what seemed to her as a serious lack of exertion.
When they reached the end of the trail, Asher pointed her to another trail she’d never seen before. It went up in the hills. “It’s an alternate route back,” he said. “Want to see it?”
The trail looked more vertical than horizontal to Jane, and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself trying to navigate it. But her tongue ignored her brain and she said, “Sure.”
It was a rough go. Jane’s butt and thighs were beginning to scream at her, and Asher still looked as if he’d hardly broken a sweat. About halfway back, when Jane’s chest was about to burst, they reached a peak in the trail, and Asher pointed to the lake. “See that building on the north shore?”
Jane took her eyes off the path to look, and when she did, she misstepped. She went down so quickly that she didn’t even make a sound before hitting the ground.
“Hey, are you okay?” Asher asked, reaching down to help her up from the ugly sprawl.
“I’m good!” she cried, but she was mortified to her toes. She was on all fours; in her haste to pop up, she hopped, and the moment she did, she grabbed her leg. “Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch,” she hissed. Asher caught her with one arm around her waist before she toppled again. He was warm and damp, and in a panic, Jane tried again to put weight on the offending foot.
“Whoa, wait,” Asher said. “Sit here and let me have a look.”
“I’m okay, really,” she insisted. “I just need to walk it off.”
“Spoken like a true jock,” he said jokingly. “Let me have a look first,” he insisted, and helped her to a seat on a big chunk of limestone.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said as he knelt before her.
“You landed on a rock.” He lifted her leg in one hand and felt gingerly around her ankle with the other. “Happened to me once. You really need trail running shoes around here. Does this hurt?” he asked, bending her foot back a little.
It hurt like hell, but Jane was pleasantly distracted by his touch. “A little,” she said.
He knew exactly how much pressure to apply as he moved her foot around. He moved his hand up her ankle again, probing it. “I don’t think anything is broken.” He lifted his gaze to her and for one slender moment, Jane believed she felt a spark between them.
Then again, it seemed that she—silly girl that she was—had imagined it, because Asher looked down and put her foot on the ground. “Let me help you up,” he said and stood, reaching his hand out to her. Jane slipped her hand into his; he closed his fingers tightly around hers, put his other hand around her waist, and helped her stand. “What do you think?” he asked as Jane tested her ankle.
She thought her heart was going to jump right out of her chest. He held her so easily, so securely, and his body was hard against her. The sensation was intoxicating and maddening; what was she doing? “It’s okay,” she said. “I think I can walk.” She needed to step away from him, breathe some air, find her bearings again.
But Asher had other ideas. “Try a few steps,” he suggested and tightened his already firm hold of her. On the second step, her knee buckled.
“Okay, that’s it,” he said and pointed to a tree. “Sit.” Jane looked at the tree. “Right there,” he commanded. “With your back against the tree.”
“I don’t—”
“Sit,” he said sternly.
Jane sat. Asher sat, too, propping her foot up on his thigh to elevate it.
They sat that way for a moment until Jane pulled her hat low over her eyes and said, “This is awkward. I feel like a moron.”
“Nah,” he scoffed. “Could have happened to anyone.”
“It didn’t happen to you. Now the kids will wonder where you are.”
He smiled and looked up to the treetops. “Riley is watching Levi. They’ll be fine.”
“Wow,” Jane said. “You have better luck getting her to watch Levi than I do.”
Asher chuckled and looked at Jane again. “My little girl can be stubborn,
there is no doubt.”
A breeze lifted up from the lake, cooling them. Jane looked at Asher’s hand on her ankle. She liked the feel of it. Very . . . masculine. “She’s a puzzle,” she said, working to keep her mind clear of such thoughts. “I can’t find anything to really interest her. I discovered the little playhouse just below the house, and I thought she might want to go there and paint or do some artwork. But she refused to step foot in it.”
Asher’s smile faded. He looked at Jane. “That studio holds some painful memories for her.”
Jane blinked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . . she said it was her mother’s.”
“Did she say anything else?” Asher asked curiously.
“Just that she wouldn’t go in. And that I shouldn’t either.” She smiled.
Asher smiled, too. “She had a complicated relationship with her mother.” Jane had the sense he was choosing his words carefully. “Living with Susanna wasn’t always easy.”
Her curiosity piqued, Jane waited for him to say more. She wanted to ask him why it hadn’t been easy, but she didn’t want to pry.
“She was an artist with an artist’s temperament. You could say she was a little mercurial.”
Mercurial. Jane thought of Alice in Wonderland for some reason.
“Riley didn’t always understand her mother’s moods. She was so young, and . . . and I think now she struggles to reconcile the memories of a mother she loved and misses with a mother who could be different at times.”
So vague, yet so intriguing. “I had no idea,” Jane said.
“I know Riley can be difficult,” he said apologetically. “She’s a little different herself.”
“She’s cool,” Jane said. “A really cool girl. Levi is cool, too.”
Asher smiled skeptically. “Thanks. I think they’re both pretty cool. I’m glad you think so. By the way, I invited the Graebers for a swim party. Linda Gail is going to call you to arrange it. Make sure the kids are available, and especially Riley.” His smile was charmingly devilish. “That girl is going to go, even if I have to drag her dead body myself,” he confided.
“Wow, Asher, I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jane said in all seriousness. “But if it does, I’ll help you.”
He laughed, patted her ankle. “Speaking of the little devils . . . want to try your ankle again?”
“Yes.”
He helped her up and took firm hold of her again. She gripped his arm as she tested her ankle, his earthy scent tickling her nose.
“I can walk,” she said, taking a few steps. “I just rolled it. I’ll be fine.” Jane risked a look into those eyes. “Thanks.”
“You should lay off a few days,” he advised and let her go. Jane took several steps forward. “We’re only a mile or so from the house, right?” she asked, looking down the trail and away from him. It seemed saner that way. “You should go on. Don’t worry about me.”
He laughed. “Now what kind of guy would I be if I left you for the armadillos?”
Another jovial remark from a guy Jane had pegged as the least amusing man in Texas. “Thanks! I really didn’t want to be eaten by armadillos.” She began her gingerly walk.
“I had forgotten how nice it is to run with someone,” Asher said absently as he strolled alongside her hobble.
“Oh? Did you used to run with your wife?”
“No.” He looked at the lake. “Running wasn’t her sport. I meant that I used to run with a couple of buddies. We’ve lost touch in the last few years.”
“What was her sport?” Jane asked. When Asher didn’t answer her, she looked at him.
His smile was gone, his expression impassive. “To be honest, I don’t really remember.”
That response seemed a little odd to Jane. How could he not remember?
“Who do you run with?” Asher asked. “Your boyfriend?”
Jane laughed. “Hardly. Running isn’t his sport, either. I took it up a couple of years ago.” She peeked up at him. “I needed to get out.”
“Ah,” Asher said. “So . . . were you running from, or running to?”
She thought about that a moment. “I was more like a hamster, running to and fro.” She laughed at herself.
“I know what you mean.”
“Really? You don’t seem like you’d have the kind of life-muddling questions I seem to have.”
“Whether or not to get married?”
“We’ll start there,” Jane joked, and Asher laughed.
“How is the injured ankle, by the way? You seem to be moving much better.”
“I predict a full recovery by the morning with a little ice, elevation, and chocolate. As for the klutz in me, I’m not sure that can be corrected. This isn’t exactly the first time I’ve done this,” she confided sheepishly. “I ran right off a curb once.”
He laughed. “How can you run off a curb?”
“Allow me to enlighten you,” Jane said, and she told him about her flying off a curb she hadn’t seen. And leaping to avoid what she thought was a snake—which had turned out to be a stick—and landing half on, half off the trail, spraining her foot.
By the time she had finished, they’d reached the gate to the house. “Maybe, for the sake of the running public, it’s a good thing you go solo,” Asher suggested.
“Exactly,” Jane agreed.
Asher opened the gate and stood back so that Jane could limp through. “This is where I leave you to put some ice and chocolate on your ankle. You’re okay?”
“I’m good,” she assured him.
He smiled as his gaze wandered over her a moment. “See you later, Jane. Take care of that ankle.” He walked on to the house.
What ankle? Jane wondered and limped to the guesthouse.
17
Jane’s ankle had recovered Monday morning, but she decided she would not risk running. Instead, she went into the house hoping for breakfast from Carla. She got that, and two hundred dollars.
Jane stared at the ten twenties after Carla explained the money was to buy Riley a swimsuit. “He left two hundred dollars to buy a swimsuit?” she asked incredulously. “How much does he think one costs?”
“Oh, he has no idea,” Carla said as she resumed chopping cucumbers. “You can’t blame the poor man—Mrs. P had some expensive tastes.” Carla stopped chopping and glanced slyly at the door before leaning across the kitchen island. “Between you and me, Mrs. P could shop.”
“Really?” Jane said, sliding onto a bar stool.
Carla’s cheeks puffed out and her eyes rounded. “Never seen anything like it. Once, she came home from Austin with six Coach purses. Six! Now, I’m no purse expert. I’ve had the same bag for twelve years now and it still suits me fine. But I know the name Coach, and I know they aren’t cheap. And she had six of them in the same color! She also had six bracelets, six pairs of Stuart Wisenheimer—”
“—Weitzman?”
“Weitzman, Wisenheimer, I don’t know. Some fancy shoemaker. She said six was her lucky number.”
That sounded bizarre. “Were they gifts?” Jane asked, trying to make sense of it.
Carla shrugged and picked up her knife again. “Don’t know. What I do know is that she had a problem with the credit cards. And that time, it was more than Mr. P was willing to pay. They had an awful fight about it.”
Jane could not imagine the couple in the portrait in the living room engaged in an awful fight. They seemed far too sophisticated for awful fighting. “So what happened?” she asked as she swiped a cucumber from beneath Carla’s knife.
“That’s just it,” Carla said. “When I left that day, I was so worried about little Levi. Riley was at school, but Levi had just started crawling, and while they were fighting, he just howled. But when I came back the next day, it was like I dreamed the whole thing.” She dumped some cucumbers into a bowl. “Never did see those Coach bags or the shoes again. Maybe she took them back, I don’t know, but Mr. P and Mrs. P were all lovey-dovey again.”
Jane looked at t
he money she held. That definitely sounded mercurial. “Just out of curiosity, how old is Mr. P?”
“He was forty in March,” Carla said and winced. “I forgot it, can you believe it? Been with the Prices for seven years and flat forgot it. I felt so bad, but in my defense, he treated it like another day. Didn’t do anything special for it. He never did, really, I think because Mrs. P was a little sensitive about the fact she was four or five years older than him. You’d never know it to look at her.” She paused and sighed wistfully. “She worked hard at being beautiful and she was so beautiful. Such a pity that she died so young.”
“Tragic,” Jane agreed, and glanced up at the picture of Susanna on the shelf behind Carla. Beautiful. Sleek and shiny, highly polished. Not a mark, not a blemish.
“There’s a real cute little shop down on Simpson Road,” Carla said. “It’s called Molly’s Closet. They have swimsuits for girls.” She turned around to the fridge and went back to work.
When Jane went in search of the kids, she found Riley in her room, applying makeup and, particularly, a lot of deep blue eye shadow. Jane watched the twelve-year-old curiously for a moment. “Did your dad say that was okay?”
“Why not?” Riley asked insouciantly. “It’s my face.”
“I can think of a million reasons why not,” Jane said and leaned down to pick some clothes off the floor. She spotted a swimsuit and picked it up, holding it out. “Good Lord,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she examined the two-piece with the tiny little cuddly bear appliqué on the breast. “How old is this?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really use it,” Riley said. “I don’t like to swim.”
“I wouldn’t either if I had to wear that,” Jane said, and Riley actually laughed.
“We are going to improve on that, my friend.”
Riley stopped applying blush. “What do you mean?”
“Your dad left money to get you a new swimsuit. Carla told me about a place we can go after we drop Levi at camp. Are you up for a little shopping?”