The Lost Daughter of Pigeon Hollow

by Inglath Cooper

  “Why isn’t there anyone special in your life?”

  She propped her chin on her forearms and looked him in the eye. “Who says there isn’t?”

  He tipped his head. “I figured if there was, you’d have mentioned him by now.”

  “Probably so.”

  When she didn’t elaborate, he said, “Not answering, huh?”

  “Not many guys my age are thrilled about built-in parenthood.”

  “Even so, I can’t imagine you don’t have to beat them off with a stick.”

  “That’s pretty much exactly what’s required for the men I meet in Pigeon Hollow.”

  “I can’t blame them for trying.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “There was someone, wasn’t there? Someone who hurt you.”

  She glanced up, then away, shook her head, even as the denial died on her lips. “I was engaged. To a guy I met in college. His name was Ashley. Ashley Morgan.” The name sounded strange to her. She hadn’t let herself say it out loud in so long.

  “And?”

  She drew in a deep breath, let it out again. “Oh, you know. The worst kind of cliché. Wedding dress hanging in the closet. Invitations in the mail. Flowers at the church. And no groom.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine what he was thinking.”

  His tone dismissed Ashley as an idiot. Which had its appeal. “I left school to take care of Katie. Turns out that didn’t work for him. I guess I thought loving someone meant taking the difficult and making a go of it. I wanted it to be the real thing. But the truth?”

  “What?”

  “From the very beginning, I had this feeling. Deep inside. You know the kind that nags at you, but you ignore it because you don’t want it to be true.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I know that feeling.”

  “So. Lesson learned? Gut instinct holds the winning hand every time.”

  “Maybe so, but like I said, the guy must have been an idiot.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Trying to make me feel better.”

  “Added bonus. I wasn’t trying to make you feel better. It’s true.”

  She trailed her hand through the water, acknowledged her increasingly strong pull of attraction for him, even as she reminded herself this was exactly the kind of situation that had her gut instinct screaming Red Light.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, angling her float so she couldn’t avoid his eyes.

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  “That I like your smile,” she said, sticking her toe over the line she had just drawn for herself. “It’s the kind that makes other people want to smile.”

  He propped his chin on a fist, looking surprised by her answer. “I like yours, too.”

  She felt the flare between them, could not deny that she’d been the one to toss the match.

  He moved her float again, this time bringing her up alongside him. They stayed that way for a few moments, just looking at one another, chins on folded arms, awareness a tangible current between them. The sudden return of common sense made her lower her eyes and say, “I don’t think we should start down this path again.”

  “Probably not.”

  The lack of conviction in his voice rocked her own resolve. It had been a wonderful afternoon. The temptation to let it go where it would was strong. Dead-end roads, she reminded herself. She looked at him again and said, “We should be getting back, shouldn’t we?”

  “Yeah.” Again she noted his reluctance.

  A few yards away, a fish broke the surface of the water, making an enormous splash.

  Owen nodded once, then pushed her float to the ladder. She slid off, and they climbed back on the boat, quiet. She went into the bathroom, dried off and changed into her clothes. When she came back out, he had changed as well. He put away the floats, pulled the anchor from the water.

  Willa stood by the rail. The sun had started to sink, the air cooling considerably. The cows on the shore ambled across the pasture toward the barn visible in the distance, heading home.

  She wished the day didn’t have to end.

  * * *

  KATIE SPOTTED CLINE’S VAN at the side of the house next to a wheelchair ramp. A little bubble of compassion rose in her chest at the sight of it. How could a young guy like him accept that he would never walk again? She couldn’t begin to even imagine not being able to run up the stairs, ride a bike, climb a tree. They were things she took for granted. Things he could no longer do.

  The indoor pool sat to the left side of the house, connected by an open breezeway. Katie found the dressing room and the bathing suits Jake had told her would be there.

  A pink bikini was the only one in her size. She put it on and stood before the mirror, overcome with shyness at the thought of facing Cline in it.

  Ridiculous. No guy had ever made her shy.

  She headed for the pool door, opened it to a rush of warm air. It was like stepping into a tropical paradise. Square terra-cotta tile encased the perimeter of turquoise-blue water. Plump lounge chairs sat along the edges. In the lap lane, Cline swam toward the other end, muscled arms synchronized.

  At the far end, he turned and swam back. When he reached the end of the pool, he surfaced at the side, pulling a pair of goggles over his head. Katie stood, suddenly uncertain of her welcome.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  “Jake said you might be here.”

  “Yeah.” He propped his arms on the side of the pool and looked up at her, water glistening on the tips of thick lashes.

  “I didn’t know you…I mean—”

  He tipped his head toward the wheelchair parked a few yards away. “Did you think I never got out of that thing?”

  She lifted a shoulder, certain she was destined to be nothing more than a bumbling idiot around him.

  He pressed his lips together. And then said, “It’s okay. I didn’t know anything about paralyzed people either until I became one.”

  The remark felt like an admonition. “Maybe I should go,” she said.

  “You just got here.”

  “I know, but you’d probably rather be alone.”

  “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t. Stay.”

  * * *

  THE HOUSEBOAT EASED out of the cove. Owen stood behind the wheel, his gaze on Willa’s back where she lingered by the rail, looking out as if she were sorry they were leaving.

  He wished they weren’t. He wished he had kissed her, though he had no right to do so.

  And wasn’t that the point? He had no right.

  He thought about his situation, how screwed up it was. He was beginning to realize that he had nothing to offer Pamela. And he was equally certain that given the direction he was headed in, Winding Creek Farm wouldn’t be his much longer.

  Unsettling as that was, Owen wondered at the timing of Willa’s entrance in his life. Since the moment he’d set eyes on her, the very thought of marrying Pamela sat like a rock on his chest. And what had seemed reasonable now felt implausible.

  He eased the throttle forward, the boat picking up speed. Just short of the bend leading out of the cove, it sputtered and came to a stop, silent. Waves washed back, tipping it left, right, left, right.

  Willa crossed the boat and stood beside the wheel. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said, turning the key and trying the engine. Completely dead. “Not good.”

  He checked the gas tank and oil. Glanced at the engine.

  “Why don’t you give it a few minutes?” she said.

  They waited, and then he tried to crank it again. No go.

  “I’d better call for help,” he said. “It’ll be dark soon.”

  He pulled his cell phone out of the glove compartment and switched it on. The no-service light blinked in bold orange. He groaned. “You’re not going to believe this.”

  “Not working?”

  He looked up at her. “I swear
I didn’t plan this.”

  “What do we do, swim for it?”

  “An option, but we’d have a hike ahead of us. Let’s hope Artis misses us at the marina. He knows I’m always back by dark.”

  Willa crossed the deck and sat down on a bench seat, the air cooling with the encroaching dusk. “So we wait.”

  Owen watched her for a moment, then walked over and sat down beside her. Hands behind his head, he studied the darkening sky. “Most of the women I’ve dated would not have been happy at this turn of events.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Isn’t it the female duty to be irritated when a guy messes up?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “First of all, this wasn’t anybody’s fault. And second of all, maybe you haven’t been dating the right women.”

  He caught her gaze, held it for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I haven’t.”

  * * *

  KATIE ROUNDED ONE side of the pool, walked down the steps and into the water. Cline tried not to stare.

  He failed without question, unable to pull his gaze away from her impossible-not-to-notice curves.

  She dove in, swam to the other side and then back. All the while, he watched her sure strokes, the neat precision with which she broke the surface of the water.

  He turned away, put his goggles on, headed to the lane and continued with his laps. He completed six before finding the side of the pool again, dropping his head back to breathe in a few steady gulps of air.

  “Nice.” Katie bobbed in the water beside him.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Did you swim—” She broke off there, leaving the question unfinished.

  “Before?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not much. Running was my thing.”

  “That must have been hard to give up,” she said in a soft voice.

  “Not hard at all when you don’t have a choice.”

  She bit her lip, and then whispered, “No matter what I say to you, it always feels like the wrong thing.”

  He thought about that—the fact that maybe he was being unfair to her. “That’s me, not you,” he said.

  She blew out a sigh. “Maybe I really ought to go.”

  He should let her. They had little to nothing in common. What was the point in acting as if they ever would? Obvious as the answer was, he didn’t want her to leave. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She turned back from the steps, considering, and then swam over, floating on her back. “I used to go swimming at the Y in our town. Pretty nice that you have your own pool.”

  He leaned against the wall, resting his elbows on the sides to hold himself up. “I never used it much before.”

  “You’re a good swimmer.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What else did you do before?”

  The question again surprised him. Most people steered clear of anything hinting at before. She seemed determined not to ignore the elephant in the room. He liked her for it. “Rode dirt bikes, horses.”

  “You miss those things?”

  “Yeah.” He put his chin on his forearms, not looking at her. “Sometimes I dream about things I used to do. And there’s a little window right before I wake up when I think my life is the way it used to be. That’s the part that sucks the most. The moment I remember it isn’t.”

  She rested her arms on the wall beside him. “I know a lot of guys who can walk and aren’t anywhere near as together as you.”

  He looked at her, not sure what to say to that.

  She grimaced. “That sounded stupid, didn’t it?”

  “No,” he said. “It wasn’t stupid. But I don’t feel very together.”

  “Isn’t that what being a teenager is all about?”

  He gave her a half smile. Here in the water, it was as if they were equals. Like he was any normal guy talking to a cute girl. It was a feeling he didn’t want to let go yet. “What do you do for kicks in Pigeon Hollow?”

  She peered over at him through the most incredible eyes, thick-lashed and full of life. “Oh, there’s the Friday night drag race out at Clark Thurman’s place. Tobacco-spitting contest every third Saturday.”

  He laughed. “You don’t look like the drag-racing type. Tobacco-spitting, either, come to think of it.”

  “I guess you think we’re just a bunch of rednecks out there in the boonies,” she said.

  “Why would I think that?”

  “That’s what people usually think.”

  “I’ve never been one to go along with ‘usually.’”

  She gave him an appraising look. “No. I’d say you’re not.”

  “I hear you have a boyfriend,” he said, the words out before he had time to reconsider.

  “Past tense,” she said.

  “What happened there?”

  “Your brother kind of removed me from the situation.”

  “Willingly or unwillingly?”

  “Unwillingly at the time.”

  “And now?”

  She hesitated, then said, “I’m glad he did.”

  “So you changed your mind about this guy?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I knew all along he wasn’t the right thing.”

  “What was the draw?”

  “Making Willa crazy.”

  Cline smiled. “What’s the rift between you two?”

  “There isn’t one, really. She just thinks she needs to save me from myself.”

  “Does she?”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  He let that stand for a moment, then asked, “What’s so bad about you?”

  She didn’t answer for a while. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out my whole life.”

  “What makes you think there is something?”

  She dropped her head back and stared up at the skylight above them. “A mom who wished I’d never been born for starters.”

  “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

  “If the truth is harsh, then I guess so.”

  The look on her face made him realize there was a well of pain behind her determined indifference. He wanted, suddenly, to make it better for her. Or at least to show her she wasn’t the only one who felt like a disappointment. “I don’t think my dad ever accepted that I’m going to be paralyzed for the rest of my life. Or maybe he just couldn’t believe a son of his could be anything less than a full man.”

  Katie put a hand on his arm, the touch sending a bolt of feeling straight through his chest. “Cline, you’re a great-looking guy. Not to mention all the other things you’ve got going for you.”

  Something in her voice told him she wasn’t just being nice. And that felt good. “My dad, he was pretty hard to figure. We barely learned the name of one girlfriend before he was on to another. Ironic considering this crazy provision he put in his will for Owen. He has to get engaged, or he’s going to lose his inheritance.”

  “Wow. That sucks,” Katie said.

  “Having a say after you’re gone. I guess that’s not exactly like taking it with you, but close enough.”

  “Where’s your mom?” she asked.

  “South of France, last I heard. She wasn’t exactly the maternal type, you know?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

  Neither of them spoke for a while. And then Cline pushed off from the edge. “Race you to the other end?”

  She plunged back into the water. “You’re on.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  HELP ARRIVED IN THE FORM of Artis just after nine o’clock that evening.

  By that time, Willa’s stomach was growling, but she didn’t say anything because Owen already felt bad enough about the breakdown.

  “Ahoy, there.” Artis brought his bass fishing boat to a gliding stop just short of the pontoon. “Been lookin’ all over for you two. Then I happened to remember this was your favorite spot.”

  “I was hoping you’d miss us,” Owen said, reaching for the other man’s rope. “We were beginni
ng to think we’d have to swim for it.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Engine died. No service on the cell phone.”

  “Winning combination,” Artis said, smiling. “Y’all hop on. Why don’t you anchor her for the night? I’ll come back and haul her in tomorrow morning, see if I can locate the problem.”

  They gathered their things and climbed on the boat. Artis sped off, pulling out his phone to call his wife and ask her to have a couple sandwiches ready for them.

  Back at the marina, Owen thanked Artis for the rescue.

  “Anytime,” the older man said. “I’ll let you know on the boat.”

  Madge came out with their sandwiches and twin cups of lemonade. “Bet you two are starving.”

  “This’ll hit the spot,” Owen said. “Thanks, Madge.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  They sat at a picnic table on the dock and made short work of their food without talking.

  A young man in cutoff blue jean shorts and a white T-shirt walked by. He had a camera case on one shoulder, a duffel bag on the other.

  He stopped a short distance away, turned around and looked at them, as if he were trying to figure out who they were. He pointed a finger at Owen and said, “Hey, aren’t you—”

  “Just leaving,” Owen said, standing.

  “Owen Miller. The guy with the inheritance problem.”

  “Look, it’s late. We’re—”

  The man pulled out his camera, stepped back and aimed a shot at them. “Come on, be a sport. I’m with the Daily Record. We’ve been getting all kinds of letters asking whether you’ve taken the big leap.”

  “Don’t take that picture,” Owen said, his voice low with warning.

  “One shot.” The flash went off.

  Owen reached for the camera, but the man backed up and sprinted off for the parking lot.

  Willa stood up, stunned. “Why did he do that?”

  Owen ran a hand through his hair, his face flushed. “Fodder for the gossip mill, no doubt.”

  “Because you’re with me?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  They walked out to his truck in silence. Once they were headed back down the road, he looked at her and said, “I’m sorry for being short. Guys like that just really get me going.”