by Sherry Lewis
Beau didn’t want to think about pretty. He moved to the soft-drink machine and held out an impatient hand for some financial input from Aaron. “Not everyone reaches their peak at seventeen.”
“You saying I did?”
“You? No. But there are times when I wonder about myself.”
The laughter in Aaron’s eyes faded almost immediately. “You’re serious?”
Beau gave up trying to figure out what he wanted to drink and leaned against the cool brick wall. “Tell me what you think of me.”
“What I think of you?”
“Yeah. You know. What do you think of me? If you had to sum me up in a few words, what would they be?”
“You’re my friend. A pain in the neck sometimes, but still my friend. Why?”
A distant burst of laughter echoed through the empty hallways, and Beau could have sworn he could tell Molly’s laughter from the others’. He just couldn’t understand why, when he’d been perfectly content to be alone and get his life together, he had to start letting things become complicated. He raked his fingers through his hair and told himself—again—to stop thinking about her.
“It’s just…well, Molly said something the other day that’s been bugging me. She has this image of me as lucky, and I know she’s not the only one who feels that way.”
Aaron quirked an eyebrow. “You? Lucky?”
Beau smiled halfheartedly. “I didn’t say it, she did. But when I put that together with some of the things Heather used to say, it makes me wonder if everyone sees me that way.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“I’m not sure you count,” Beau said grudgingly. “You know me too well. You know what I’ve screwed up and you know where I’ve failed. But what about other people?”
Laughing, Aaron dumped the last of his chips into his hand and crumpled the empty wrapper. “Did Molly give you a reason for this assessment of hers?”
Beau thought back for a moment. “Well, she thinks I’m lucky for inheriting the house and the farm.”
“And you are.”
“Yeah, and I’m the first one to admit it,” he said, though the instant the words left his mouth, he realized they weren’t quite true. “My lousy marriage wasn’t lucky. My divorce wasn’t lucky. Having an ex-mother-in-law who still wants to run my life isn’t lucky.”
“So you’re an unlucky SOB instead. What do you care what Molly Lane thinks?”
“I don’t.” Beau pushed away from the wall and tried once more to figure out what kind of soda he wanted. He punched a big flat green button with his fist. “I was curious, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”
“Get me one of those, wouldja?” Aaron fished a bill from his pocket and handed it to Beau. “You had a great run in high school. Senior-class president. Captain of the football team…and whatever else you were. You got good grades. Girls were all over you. You could have dated anybody you wanted.”
“And you think I lucked out in all that? All the hours I spent working on my game and hitting the books meant nothing?”
“No. But what’s the big deal?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Beau said. “But if you work hard for something, it’s nice to know your efforts are appreciated. Nobody wants people to write off their skill and hard work as dumb luck.”
“And you think that’s what people do with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve had some bad luck, too, and everybody knows it. So even if some folks did think that when we were kids, they don’t now.”
Beau handed over change and a cold can of root beer to his friend, and started back toward the gymnasium. “Then there are people who feel that way?”
“No. No!” Dumbfounded, Aaron ran a hand along the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Nobody ever said anything to me. I said if they’d felt that way. But even if they do, what does it really matter? You know who you are, so what does somebody else’s opinion matter?”
Beau had no answer for that. These days, it seemed that there were a whole bunch of questions he couldn’t answer. When they reached the gymnasium again, he glanced through the open doors and his gaze flew to Molly. She stood in the center of the crowd, smiling broadly, basking in the attention of her former classmates. Even from a distance, he could see the glow in her eyes, and his heart turned over twice before he could pull himself together.
He was reacting the way any man would react to the sight of a particularly beautiful woman. If circumstances were different, he might be tempted to let things take their course. But circumstances weren’t different. Molly would be here for just ten more days. Then she’d go back to her life and Beau would stay in his. Another man might have taken advantage of the situation, anyway, but marriage to Heather had cured him of any interest in a superficial relationship, and temporary just didn’t cut it.
He did care what Molly thought of him, even if he wasn’t ready to admit how much.
“I STILL CAN’T believe you’re really here,” Jennifer Grant said from atop a ladder a few hours later. She’d been another of Molly’s friends when they were girls, and it had taken only a few minutes to rediscover their former closeness.
“To be honest, I can’t, either,” Molly admitted. She stretched high to hand Jennifer one end of the soft blue netting they’d been assigned to drape over the plain walls of the gymnasium. Only about ten people had showed up for tonight’s work party, so there hadn’t been much time to chat, but they were nearly finished and the mood was beginning to lighten.
Even Beau, who’d been working nonstop all evening, had disappeared. She glanced over one shoulder to see if he’d come back, but there was still no sign of him. “You can’t imagine how glad I am you’ve all been so welcoming,” she said, turning her attention back to Jennifer. “I was a little worried about coming back. I was afraid that you’d have all forgotten me.”
“You’re one of us, Molly. Always have been. Moving away didn’t alter that.”
Unlike some of the others in their class, Jennifer hadn’t changed much since high school. She’d put on a few pounds, but she still had tons of energy and wore too much makeup and flirted outrageously with every man in sight. But the flirting had always been harmless, and her husband—a good-looking guy Molly remembered only vaguely—didn’t seem to mind.
Jennifer secured the netting in place and started down the ladder again. “The only thing I can’t figure out is why you’re suddenly so…insecure.”
The comment threw Molly and she nearly missed Jennifer’s cue to pick up her end of the ladder. “Insecure?” she asked when they were finally in sync again and moving toward the next patch of bare wall. “Is that how I strike you?”
“A little.” Jennifer set her end of the ladder on the floor and headed back for the bolt of netting. “You’re less confident than you used to be. But you’re still smart. Funny. Lots of fun to hang out with. Don’t you realize that?”
Molly shook her head. “It’s been a while since I had any close friends,” she admitted numbly. “Dad was a bit of a loner, and I’m probably a lot like him—but not because that’s what I want. I like being with people and I’m having a great time tonight.”
“I’m glad.” Jennifer carried the netting over to the ladder and wedged it against a folded stack of bleachers. “I guess losing your mom didn’t help—especially not the way it happened.”
For the second time in less than a minute, Molly felt as if she’d been hit hard. She picked up the basket holding scissors, tape and string, and walked over to join Jennifer. “You remember the accident?” she asked, setting the basket on the floor
“Of course I do.” Jennifer seemed oblivious to the fact that she was discussing something that everyone else had decreed off-limits. “It shook everybody up practically forever.”
Or maybe Molly had misinterpreted everyone else’s reticence. “Would you mind telling me what you remember?”
“Sure.” Jennifer shrugged. “But you must remember more than I do.”
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“Actually, I don’t remember anything at all. The year around my mom’s accident is a blank.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“Not a thing. The only things I know are what my dad told me, but he didn’t like to talk about it. Now that he’s gone, the people here in Serenity are the only ones who can tell me about that night.”
Jennifer reached into the basket for the scissors and tape, tucking them into the waistband of her jeans. “Well, that stinks.”
Lanie Byers interrupted long enough to get the keys to Jennifer’s Suburban so they could bring in the disco ball. When they were alone again, Jennifer’s expression grew thoughtful. “I remember that night really well. It was cold. Sometime in January, I think.”
“April tenth.” That much Molly did know.
Jennifer looked confused. “Yeah, but we had a storm. A blizzard. A white-out. That’s why she went off the road, wasn’t it? That and the ice?” She paused. “I guess you could be right. It was probably one of those freak spring storms we sometimes have. I just remember the phone ringing and someone telling my mom about the accident. It happened out past the Trego ranch, I think. The car hit a patch of ice and went through the guard-rail. They figured Ruby died on impact. I know it’s not much, but at least you can feel better knowing that she didn’t suffer.”
Molly nodded slowly, letting those few details filter in to mingle with what she could remember about the town. “The Trego ranch…” she said after a few seconds. “Isn’t that way out on the East Bench?”
Jennifer nodded. “Past the houses out there, on the way to Beaver Creek.”
Molly could picture the road—a narrow, winding strip of asphalt barely wide enough for two lanes of traffic and usually closed during bad weather. “Did they ever say what she was doing out there?”
“Not that I heard.” Jennifer tilted her head to one side. “It does seem like an odd place to be in the middle of a bad storm, doesn’t it?”
“Very. I thought that stretch of road was closed when the weather was bad, so how did she get out there in the first place?”
“It is closed—usually. They lock the gates in late October and don’t open them again until almost Memorial Day, except in mild winters.”
Molly nodded thoughtfully. She didn’t know what to think, but she didn’t want to be guilty of blowing things out of proportion. Still, her dad’s refusal to discuss the accident had never seemed so unfair or so wrong. She should already know the details of her mother’s accident. She shouldn’t have to beg people to tell her about it.
“I wonder if anyone knows what she was doing out there,” she said, more to herself than Jennifer.
“One of her friends might.”
“I’ve talked to a couple of her friends,” Molly said, “but nobody seems willing to say much. What about your mom? Do you think she might know?”
“I don’t know.” Jennifer fished a piece of gum from a pocket. “I’ll ask. She still wears the jewelry she bought from your mom.”
Molly realized they’d slacked off with the decorating and grabbed the bolt of netting to unwind a length of it. “Really?”
“Yeah. She’s got some really great stuff.” Jennifer pulled out the scissors and waited for Molly to stop. “I keep trying to convince her to give me those turquoise earrings your mom made when we were seniors, but she won’t even consider it.” Molly stopped unwinding and Jennifer cut the netting to the proper length. “I’ll tell you what I really wanted—that beaded choker she made for you that Christmas. That’s still the most elegant piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen. Do you still have it?”
Although she struggled to remember something—anything—about a choker, Molly’s mind was a blank. “I wish I did, but Dad gave away all her jewelry and clothes to charity after she died. By the time I realized what he’d done, it was too late.”
“But that choker was yours,” Jennifer protested.
“Dad must have given it away with all the rest.” Molly tried not to feel the cold spikes of anger that bumped around inside her, but they were getting harder and harder to ignore. She understood her father’s grief. She knew how painful it must have been to see reminders of his beloved wife, but why hadn’t he realized that Molly might feel differently? That she might need the reminders? Or had he just not cared?
A faint wisp of memory stirred—a shadowy image surrounded by anger and shouting, though she couldn’t make out the words. A vague sense of uneasiness ran through her, but she didn’t know why. Had she been angry, or had she been frightened by someone else?
Frightened?
Yes. There was anger all around her, but she was frightened and nearly overwhelmed by sadness. Just as quickly as the image came, it was gone. She let out a shaky breath and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I don’t think I remember, but I’m not sure. It’s like there’s something right outside my line of vision. I see this shadow, but then I turn to find out what it is and it’s gone.”
Jennifer grabbed one end of the netting and climbed the ladder. “Maybe it would help you remember if you could see some of the jewelry your mom made.”
“I’d love to. You can’t imagine how much.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to my mom and let you know. And who knows? Maybe Mom will be able to tell you something about the accident.”
A faint spark of hope stirred in Molly’s chest, but she tried not to let it grow too large. Jennifer’s mother probably did know something. The real question was, would she be willing to talk about it?
Molly was almost afraid to hope.
SHE WAS ASLEEP the second her head touched the pillow and slept straight through until eight the next morning, something she hadn’t done since her father’s heart attack. She awoke slowly, stretching beneath the light blanket and reveling in the autumn sunlight that streamed into the cabin through the windows.
Other than a few brief moments during her conversation with Jennifer, she’d had a wonderful time at the school, and even that conversation seemed less sinister in the daylight. The possibility of seeing her mother’s jewelry after all this time got her up and out of bed, but she tried not to let herself get too excited or hopeful. After all, Jennifer’s mother might be as reticent as the rest of Serenity when it came to Ruby Lane.
Almost without thinking, she crossed to the front windows and looked at the main house, remembering the drive home with Beau well after midnight. Had she really seen a spark of something different in his eyes last night, or had exhaustion and excitement made her imagine it?
She yawned and started to turn away, then realized that the Cherokee wasn’t in the driveway. The kids would be at school and Beau was gone. Maybe she could save herself a few steps. She crossed the lawn wearing her robe, pajamas and slippers, and carried shoes and clean clothes with her so she could dress after her shower.
Weak sunlight filtered down on her, and the sounds of Serenity coming to life surrounded her. It was such a lovely morning, maybe she’d even have coffee on the porch. But when she let herself into the kitchen, she saw Beau standing in front of the washing machine. She came to an abrupt halt and one of her shoes dropped to the floor with a thud.
He wore a pair of faded jeans slung low on his hips. No shirt. No socks. He turned as Molly entered, and the sight of his bare chest, whisker-shadowed cheeks and lopsided smile sent her heart into overdrive. Her mouth went dry and she clutched her clothes in front of her like a shield, but she couldn’t do anything about her makeup-less face or the hair poking out from her head at all angles.
His gaze swept her from head to toe, but his expression gave no clue as to what he thought. “Morning,” he greeted her, as if disheveled women wearing pajamas burst into his kitchen every day of the week. “Coffee’s on. Toast and jam’s on the table. I can fix a couple of eggs if you’re not particular, or I saved you two of my mom’s peach muffins. They’re on a plate near the microwave.”
“Muffins are fine,” Molly croaked out around the lump of pure mortification lodged in her throat. She tore her gaze away from his flat stomach and made herself meet his eyes, but that wasn’t a whole lot safer, since they seemed exceptionally blue this morning. “I didn’t see your Jeep in the driveway. I thought you were gone.”
Beau checked the pockets of a Nicky-size pair of jeans and tossed them into the washer. “I had to leave for a while. The kids missed the bus. By the time I got back, Mom was here with muffins so I parked on the street.” He pulled a pair of Brianne’s jeans from the mound at his feet and checked the pockets. “Guess I’m finally getting that chance I’ve been wanting to catch up around here.”
Molly poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. She made herself look at the swollen mound of laundry, instead of Beau. “I’m not a very good houseguest. I should offer to help with something.”
“With what? My dirty laundry?” Beau laughed and shook his head. “Even if you did offer, I’d turn you down. The kids and I made this mess. We’ll clean it up.”
“Your laundry wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” When she realized she was staring at a pair of men’s boxers, she looked away from the clothes. “You keep feeding me, though, so maybe I should pay you back by cooking dinner one night.”
Beau dropped a sweatshirt into the washer and fixed her with a skeptical look. “You know how to cook?”
It had been a long time since anyone had teased her, and she’d forgotten how it felt to view life as something to be enjoyed rather than simply endured. She managed to keep a serious expression on her face and shook her head. “No. Is that a problem?”
“Not if you can keep from giving us all food poisoning.”
“I can certainly try.”
He grinned and turned back to his laundry. “Well, what more could a guy ask? When do you want to fix us this feast?”
“How about tonight?”
“Tonight’s the parade and I need to be there early. I’m afraid you’ll have to join us for a quick bite at the Burger Shack.”
