Alana raised a hand to her face to hide the bruising, even though it was pointless now. “Is Mom here?” she asked, avoiding his question.
“She went to the store. I’m gonna get Dad.” Rory took off, the screen door slamming behind him, his socks hitting the grass and then the dirt. Her mother wouldn’t be happy—Rory went through more socks . . .
Alana sank onto the couch and looked around. Six months. Six months ago, she had married Vince Green on a stupid whim. Six months ago, she’d thought she was doing everything she could to give herself a happily ever after. Out in farming country, there weren’t a ton of single guys to choose from, and she’d thought she and Vince could make it work. But that was before he started hitting her, and now . . . now she felt like the biggest idiot who had ever lived.
She heard four wheelers outside and knew that Rory had found her father. Seconds later, Bud rushed into the house, followed by Rory and Tom, her other brother. Bud reached out, took Alana’s chin, and turned her face to the light. She closed her eyes, not because of the brightness, but because she couldn’t bear to see the look on her father’s face.
“What happened?” he asked, the tone in his voice telling her he wouldn’t put up with any lies or attempts to cover it up. That’s not why she’d come, anyway—she wanted help. She needed out.
“Vince,” she replied, and Tom swore.
“Tom,” Bud warned.
“Oh, come on, Dad. None of us are surprised, are we? She married the guy right after they started dating. She barely knew him. We never liked him. How long did we give this—three months?” Tom pounded his fist on the doorframe. “So she lasted until six, but the guy’s a jerk. He always has been, he always will be, and now look at what he’s done.” He flung his arm out toward Alana. It was a little too soon since her beating, and she recoiled even though his hand came nowhere near her face.
“I’ll kill him.” Bud took a step back and clenched his fists. “I’ll kill him. When did this start, Alana? How many times has it happened?”
“About two months ago,” she whispered. “And it’s happened four times since then.”
This time, Bud swore. “And are you leaving him?”
“Yes, Dad. I’m leaving. Can I come back home?”
Alana had never seen her dad move so fast. He gathered her up in his arms in a flash, crushing her to his chest. He smelled like sunshine and wheat and freshly churned earth. “Yes, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rumbling through him and into her. “Always.”
Chapter Eight
Alana shook her head as she drove. These memories … these ghosts from her past, things she would rather forget altogether . . . what were they trying to tell her?
Melinda had dozed off in the passenger seat, exhausted from all the poking and prodding she’d had to endure. As they rounded the next bend in the road, she stirred and yawned.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“About five,” Alana replied.
Melinda straightened and adjusted her seatbelt. “I didn’t mean to drag you away for so long. I’d hoped this would be a quick appointment.”
“It’s all right. Honestly, it is. It’s the least I can do for you, after everything you’ve done for me.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Alana could tell that her friend was studying her. “What’s going on?” Melinda asked.
“Oh, the universe is trying to tell me something, and I haven’t figured out the message yet,” Alana said lightly. “You know how it is when you can’t stop thinking about something until you’ve resolved it? I keep having flashbacks about my past, things I haven’t even thought about in years, really. I thought they’d stop once I told Morgan about them, like they know they’ve been heard and honored. But I don’t know what it is. A lesson I should have picked up the first time around, or maybe some forgiveness I need to extend . . . At any rate, I need some time to figure out why. Maybe I’ll cancel my eight o’clock aromatherapy class and just spend some time with myself.”
“Do you have a lot of students this time around?” Melinda asked.
“No, just a few. I think cancelling would be pretty easy.”
“Then maybe you should.” Melinda grew quiet, and Alana thought she’d fallen back asleep. But then she spoke again. “You’re more in tune than anyone I’ve ever met. I have no doubt that you’ll figure it out. Just trust yourself.”
Trust myself. Trust myself. Alana thought about that the whole way back to Aspen Ridge. Maybe that’s what this was all about.
* * *
The students in Alana’s class were understanding about her need to reschedule, so she picked up some takeout from Frannie’s and went home, double bolting the door behind her. Aspen Ridge wasn’t a dangerous place, but the locks were symbolic, showing her desire to be completely alone with her thoughts. Then she took a quick shower and settled into her most comfortable chair with her plate and a glass of water. The food wasn’t as good as it has been the last time she’d ordered this dish—either their quality had gone down, or her taste buds were off.
She took a long, cleansing breath. At first, she just let the thoughts come, tumbling all over each other like puppies in a cardboard box. Then she gathered them up and sorted them. She didn’t need to worry about her next herb order until Tuesday, so she set that off to the side. Her concern for Melinda went into another compartment—nothing could be done until the test results were back. Adam . . . he seemed important right now, so she left him there.
After everything was sorted, she looked at what was left. Adam. Vince. Rusty. Three men, two from her past and one from her present. Why were they here in her thoughts right now? What were they trying to tell her? She took another deep breath and tried to understand.
* * *
Adam let out a low whistle when she opened the door to her apartment. She’d chosen a silvery dress that worked with her silvery-blonde hair and made her feel like a moonbeam. Her only jewelry was a diamond pendant that hung right above her neckline, a birthday gift from her grandmother when she had turned sixteen.
“You look enchanting,” he said, taking her in with appreciation.
“Thank you. That’s what I was going for,” she teased.
When he held her coat for her, his fingers brushed her arms, and a warm tingle spread through them. This must be it, the message she was supposed to be receiving. After an hour of meditation, she’d been sure that she was supposed to prepare herself for something new, a rebirth, fresh opportunities. She needed to forgive herself for the mistakes she’d made with Rusty and Vince, and open herself up to new paths. If Adam was that path, she needed to explore it. Right now, at this moment, with him standing so very close, she could see those possibilities, and they were exciting.
He held the door open, and she climbed into his car, arranging her skirts so they wouldn’t get caught when the door closed. He walked around to his side, but grabbed something from the backseat before he settled behind the wheel.
“This is today’s paper,” he said, handing it to her. “I’d like to know your opinion on every single thing in it.”
“Everything?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Everything. Leave no paragraph undiscussed.”
“All right.” She flipped through the pages. “Well, first off, I find it highly unlikely that this restaurant really has the nation’s best pizza. How was this contest conducted, and who were the judges? Was every pizza parlor in the country invited? I think we’re missing some crucial information here.”
“I agree. Totally.” Adam guided the car onto the canyon road toward Denver as he spoke.
“And I really don’t think the mayor has any right to be complaining about the colors of the signs inside the grocery store. The outside of the store blends in with the other shops on Main Street, so what difference does it make if the signs inside are orange, and the mayor doesn’t like orange? It’s not his store, and it’s not hurting anyone at all.”
“I agree with that too.”
“Okay, so far, so good. We’re not arguing yet.” Alana flipped a few more pages. “Oh, this might be a problem, though.”
“What’s that?” Adam glanced over at her, and she noticed how his shirt set off his eyes. Dang, those were some amazing eyes.
“Medical marijuana.”
“Oh?” He navigated a turn, then glanced at it again. “Are you for or against?”
“You can probably guess my feelings on the subject.”
“Hmmm. I’m guessing you’re for.”
“I am. I believe it has a purpose, and when it’s used responsibly and within the bounds of that purpose, it can do a lot of good.” She braced herself. “Okay, let me have it.”
“Have it? Have what?”
“Aren’t you going to lecture me about my hippy-drippy ways and question how a thinking adult in today’s society can even consider legalizing a drug so anyone can get their hands on it?”
Adam chuckled. “Actually, no, I’m not. In my line of work, I treat people every day. I administer drugs left and right. I’ve written as many as thirty prescriptions in one day, often three or four for the same patient. Giving them access to medical marijuana, a substance that might do more good than what I’m prescribing, doesn’t seem like too far of a stretch to me.”
Alana blinked. “Are you saying . . . do you mean . . . could it be that we’ve actually found something fairly important to agree about? I’m about ready to faint from disbelief that such a thing could be.”
“I think we’ll find many more things if we keep trying, Ms. Spencer. Now, what else is in that paper?”
They discussed each page all the way in to Denver—it was the most enjoyable car ride Alana had ever taken. They did disagree on a few things, but they were able to discuss those issues calmly, and by the time they reached their destination, Alana felt like she had taken several steps on her journey toward getting to know Adam better.
The symphony was amazing. Each of the music selections spoke to her soul in one way or another, and after a piece that had left her speechless, she glanced over to see moisture in Adam’s eyes. He blinked several times before turning to meet her gaze.
“That was my mother’s favorite,” he whispered. “She died of cancer twenty years ago. That’s why I’m an oncologist today.”
The urge to reach out and take his hand was overwhelming, and so she did. They sat that way, fingers intertwined, until intermission.
Adam bought her a bottled water when she refused champagne, and they milled around in the lobby until it was time to find their seats again. Then he settled his arm around her shoulders as the opening strains began. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in someone’s arms. Had she ever? She thought back on each of her relationships—which really didn’t take very long, because there hadn’t been many. No, she had never just sat with someone in the circle of their arms and felt their warmth and sensed their heartbeat against her shoulder. It was new and comforting, and she liked it. A lot.
On the drive back to Denver, Adam told her more about his mother, and she told him just how close they’d come to losing Rory when he was a baby. This was another thing they had in common—they’d both been driven to their love of healing by seeing someone they loved suffer. Adam’s mother hadn’t gotten a second chance like Rory had, though, and Alana’s heart broke for Adam. She could hear in his voice how deeply the loss had impacted him.
When they reached Aspen Ridge, she was sorry to see their date come to an end. She felt as though a gate had been opened, and she wanted to walk through and see what was on the other side. Adam must have felt the same way. As they neared her street, he slowed the car.
“I know we’re a little overdressed, but how about some dessert? Your diner here in town is open twenty-four seven, isn’t it?”
“It is. And I’d love some.”
Adam grinned as he turned the car around. “Oh, but wait,” he said once they were facing the other direction. “Do they have anything you can eat?”
“They make their desserts from scratch. They’re not organic, but scratch works for me on occasion.” She reached out and touched his sleeve. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
He put his hand over hers where it rested on his arm. “It seems that’s all I’ve been able to do lately.”
When they reached the diner, Alana ordered their last slice of cherry pie, and Adam got the seven-layer chocolate cake. Then they shared, putting cherries on top of the cake to make a Black Forest flavor.
“You know,” Alana said, gesturing with her fork, “we haven’t argued in at least . . . twenty minutes or so.”
“I thought it was closer to thirty.”
She made a show of checking her watch. “You’re right. Thirty. That has to be a record.”
Adam swirled his forkful of cake in the whipped cream on his plate. “I’d like to see how long we can keep up this streak.”
Alana shook her head. “I think we need to argue at least once in a while. If we don’t, things might get stale, and where would be the fun of that?”
Adam chewed and swallowed. “Do you realize what we’re both saying?”
Alana nodded. “That we want to keep seeing each other.”
He studied her. “So . . . do we?”
“I think we do.”
“I do too.” He reached across the table and took her hand, rubbing the backs of her knuckles with his thumb. “I have surgery day after tomorrow, so I can’t see you tomorrow night—I have to be in bed early. But what about the day after that? I have a pretty light patient load, and I could pick you up right at six. I hear the ski lodge has a nice restaurant.”
His touch on her hand was sending tingles up her arm. “I’d like that,” she said. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Great. Wednesday at six. I can’t wait.”
He let go of her hand so they could finish their desserts, but took it again as they walked out to the car. Once at her apartment, he took her keys and unlocked the door for her, then handed them back.
“I’ve got to get back to Denver,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got a full patient load tomorrow, starting early. I wish I didn’t—I could stand right here and stare at you all night.”
“Your eyes might get dried out,” she replied.
“Well, if they did, I know a doctor who could prescribe me some really good eye drops.” He took a step closer, and his gaze flicked down to her lips. Her heart missed a beat. He was going to kiss her. Is that what she wanted? Once you’ve kissed, you’re pretty much a couple, and she was still trying to figure him out.
He moved even closer, slowly, and she realized he was giving her the opportunity to move away if she wanted to. She was tired of being analytical, of trying to do the right thing every single second. She wanted to know what it would feel like to be kissed by him, to have his arms wrapped all the way around her and not just her shoulders. She took that last remaining step and slid her hands through his hair as he kissed her. She had expected a soft, exploratory kiss for their very first one, but he didn’t show any hesitation. His arms came around her and he held her close, his lips firm and yet yielding, and she lost herself for those few brief moments.
When he stepped back, he grinned and gave her one last quick kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she replied, barely able to force the sound out of her throat. That had been amazing.
She watched through her front window as he drove away, then turned and leaned against the edge of the couch for a moment before getting ready for bed. It had been so long since she’d felt this way, it was like an alien being had taken over her entire body. It was a nice change.
* * *
Gabe brought in a new bouquet of flowers the next morning, and Alana smiled when she read the card. Is it just me, or was that a fantastic kiss? From the way Gabe winked at her before he left, she didn’t know if he’d been the one to take the order and knew what the card said, or if h
e was winking because she’d gotten flowers again. Either way, it made her laugh, and she set them on the table by the comfy chairs and discarded the old ones. They were starting to wilt, but she hadn’t wanted to get rid of them yet. Now, with replacements, she could.
When the door to the shop opened that afternoon, Alana glanced up from restocking her essential oils shelf and swallowed hard. The last person she’d ever expected to see in Aspen Ridge had just walked in.
He stood in the doorway, wearing a tan leather jacket and dark jeans. His shirt was white and crisp, his hair a little more gray around the ears than it had been a few months before—or maybe the light was playing tricks on her eyes. Regardless, he looked good—very, very good. She swallowed hard. Breathe.
“Hello, Rusty,” she said, putting down her box. She blotted her fingers on the edge of her apron and walked over to greet him, holding out her hand in welcome.
“Hello, Alana. So, this is your shop. It looks great.” He looked around appreciatively. “It’s got you written all over it.”
“I had a lot of fun putting it together. Can I get you some tea?”
“I’d love some.”
Alana quieted her nerves while she poured out two mugs and grabbed her cookie tin. She was grateful for these small rituals, these things that could help keep her sane when everything else around her was falling apart. Why was he here? Why had he come just when she’d made the decision to give Adam a chance? He was a ghost from the past—he had no right to show up in her present.
Rusty had taken a seat while he waited, and he fingered the petals on one of the new sunflowers. “Pretty,” he said. “They really brighten up the place.”
For a second, Alana felt guilty. But then she stopped herself. There was no harm in Rusty seeing that she’d been sent flowers. He had no claim on her—she could get flowers whenever she wanted. Er, whenever someone sent them. Or she could send them to herself. The point was, there was no reason for her to feel guilty about them, and she had no reason to feel so rattled, either.
“Thank you,” Rusty said, accepting the mug of tea. He sniffed it appreciatively, then took a long sip. “Is this one of your blends?”
In The Stars (Main Street Merchants Book 6) Page 6
