by Mary Manners
“For how long?”
“That’s up to the honorable chief wannabe, too.”
“Shouldn’t you be past that silly high school rivalry by now, Ryder?”
“I’m way past it, so don’t defend him, Ali. The guy’s still a jerk.” Ryder took a pack of gum from his pocket, offered Alison a stick of spearmint before shoving one into his own mouth. “Can we just get out of here?”
“That’s the plan, isn’t it? And where, exactly, would you like to go?”
“I’ll start at the retirement village. I need to see Mama Stallings.”
“Oh, dear. Ryder, I…” Alison’s voice faltered. Her belly tumbled. She wrapped her arms across her waist as a wave of nausea threatened. “Oh, my.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t…oh...” Despite her frustration and the sheer shock of seeing Ryder once again, her heart broke for him…just a little. “No one’s told you?”
“Told me what?”
“Oh, this is just awful.” Alison poked a finger into her mouth and gnawed the nail. “I don’t want to…I shouldn’t—not like this. It just isn’t right.”
“Please, just spit it out.”
She drew a breath, her gaze locking on Ryder’s. “Mama Stallings—well, she passed away last night.”
Ryder’s eyes flashed and his jaw clenched into a firm, hard line. His shoulders tensed into a band of muscle that rippled through his shirt like a wave. “That’s impossible. It can’t be.”
“It’s true. I was there.”
“You were?” His gaze softened slightly. “What time?”
“Just after ten.”
“I should have been there, too.” His voice was pure grief.
She’d heard that despondent tone from him once before, and the realization sent a shock along the length of her spine, warming the nape of her neck, her cheeks. She was sure they flushed crimson.
“I just heard from her the day before yesterday. She left a message on my cell. She sounded a little tired, maybe a bit run down, but nothing more, Ali.”
“She was nearly ninety.”
“I know that. But I just never thought of her that way—old.” His fist clenched, and he turned to give the wall a trio stiff thumps. “It seemed as if she’d live forever.”
“I know. I was going to call you, Ryder, to let you know. But then you called me.” Alison saw the tears that dampened his eyes. She turned away, paced the width of the hall, fighting back a lump in her throat. “I knew Mama was wearing thin, and for the past several months I’ve tried to contact you, Ryder, but it was like you fell off the face of the earth. I’ve left you messages. Why haven’t you returned them? I wanted—”
“Give me a minute.” Ryder shoved through the revolving door at the station’s entrance and into maroon fingers of light that spread over the rain-splattered parking lot. Keeping her distance, Alison followed. The storm had moved off, leaving a wave of humidity behind. Ali leaned against the brick, crossing her arms, and waited while Ryder doubled over, his head dipped low. He sucked a few rattled gulps of air, groaning. When he turned back to her, his eyes were huge and wild. “You’re sure…she’s gone, for real?”
“Of course.” Alison fought the urge to soothe him. What good would that do either one of them? She waited a minute, two, before unfolding her arms and easing closer. “I’m sorry, Ryder. I never imagined…”
“I tried to get to her. I needed to get to her.” He shook his head and Ali saw tears shimmering in gray eyes that once heated enough to make her melt. She felt his pain, and tears sprang to her eyes, as well. “I told Larder I needed to get to town, but he had to create a public threat out of a speeding ticket just to flex his muscles.”
“I don’t understand.” Alison lifted a hand to Ryder’s shoulder. “Please, talk to me.”
“Don’t touch me, Ali.” He shrugged sharply and her hand slipped away. “Not now…not like this.”
“But a speeding ticket? It had to be more than that.” Alison shielded her eyes as the sun peeked over the horizon. “Come on, Ryder.”
“My tags were expired, too.” He pressed a palm to his face and Alison heard the scruff of stubble as his fingers ran the length of his jaw. “I’ve been deployed, and I just got back to the states.”
“So, that explains…” She shrugged from her rain jacket as heat steamed up from the blacktopped pavement. “Did you tell John? He’d never make a scene out of something so trivial, knowing the full details.”
“He would, and he did.” Ryder closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mama Stallings was always there for me, Ali—always. And when she needed me, I blew it.”
“You did the best you could, Ryder.”
“But it wasn’t good enough.” He shook his head. “Nothing I do in Willow Lake has ever been good enough.”
2
“Why do you keep defending him?” Ryder asked when they’d settled into Ali’s car. Resentment ripped him to shreds and he struggled to remember the Bible verse, Ecclesiastes 7:8, Mama Stallings had shared with him so long ago.
“Patience is better than pride.”
But, Mama Stallings was gone, forever. The loss left a cold, dark cavern in his gut. His mind reeled, but none of the thoughts merged to become anything coherent.
Mama Stallings is gone…
“Defending who?” Ali’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“Larder.”
“John?”
“Am I speaking a foreign language?” Ryder gazed out the window. The foothills of the Smokies, draped in a blanket of kudzu that seemed to devour the lush landscape like an invincible green monster, soared against a sky that was just becoming alive with hints of a magenta-orange swirl. He drank in the vivid colors, awed after so many months spent in a desert-brown landscape. At his military post, the only green for miles was growing on food left out in the heat for too long. “I asked, in English, why do you keep defending him?”
Ali tugged a pair of sunglasses from a holder on the visor and propped them over the bridge of her nose. A hand smoothed her blonde hair before tucking a strand behind one ear as she merged onto the highway. Traffic was light as it was barely six o’clock. But even at this early hour, after a night spent tending to Mama Stallings and the grief that accompanied her loss, Ali’s beauty shined. “John asked me to marry him.”
Ryder choked on his gum. For a moment, all he could do was cough, his eyes tearing as sunlight burned over the horizon. Finally, painfully, the words came. He worked to hold his voice light and steady. “And you said no, right?”
“Why do you care what I said?” Ali’s glossed lips pursed as she switched on the radio. Classical music drifted through the cab. “Our ship sailed a long time ago, Ryder, and you never even left the dock.”
“But, I wanted to.” How could he explain that he’d left to protect her…from him, from what he’d become?
“Wanting something and taking action are oceans apart.”
“So, you’d just settle for a loser like Larder?”
“A life with John would not be settling.” She lifted her chin, skimmed her hair back once again with fingers that were perfectly manicured. It was shorter now, and straight. She looked polished and efficient and had lost the carefree, sun-kissed look he remembered so fondly. Her eyes, once a shimmery, laughing green, were all business. “He’s going to be police chief.”
“So I heard.”
“He has goals…and ambitions.”
“So do I.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Besides, he’s an egocentric tyrant.”
“How would you know? You’ve been gone—”
“I know how long I’ve been gone. That’s beside the point.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“I’m…” What was he? Ryder clamped his mouth shut. Another of Mama Stallings’s favorites, James 1:19, came to mind.
“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.”
Ryder drew a long, heated breath. He was certainly being tested now. A cursory glance at Ali’s hands on the steering wheel told him she wasn’t wearing a ring—at least not on that finger. He’d always loved her hands…the long delicate fingers that skimmed over piano keys with the ease of someone who enjoyed the gift of music.
And, he hadn’t been gone so long that he forgot her stubborn streak. A challenge—an argument—would only make her want whatever they were at odds about that much more. So, he changed the subject.
“You’re running Willow Inn now?”
“Yes. I bought it last year.”
“From your parents?”
“They were ready to sell, and I wanted it free and clear. They retired to Arizona. After what happened to Josh…well, they just couldn’t seem to find their rhythm again. So they decided to pull up stakes, move on.”
“Away from here? From you?”
“It only hurt for a little while. I’ve…adjusted.”
The pulse at her clenched jaw told him otherwise. She’d always been close to her parents, and knowing he was partly to blame for the rift stung. He reached for her hand, tucked it gently in his, and was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t resist. “I’m planning to stay for a while, Ali, so I’ll need a room at the inn if you have one available.”
She gulped hard, her gaze glued to the road. “You’re in luck. It’s slow this time of year, so I think I can manage.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and tugged in a way he found familiar. “But, I thought you came to see Mama Stallings.” She suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ryder. I mean—”
“I came to see you, too, Ali.” He leaned across the seat and kissed her cheek gently, repeating Mama Stallings’s wise words. “It’s time.”
Ali gulped and brushed away a tear as it slipped down one cheek. “I know you loved her so.”
“She was good to me when no one else cared to give me the time of day.” He brushed a thumb along her jawline, gathering another stray tear. “No one else except you.”
“Please, Ryder.” She shifted in the seat. “I can’t concentrate on the road.”
He grinned. “I still have that effect on you, don’t I?”
“It’s the glare.” She adjusted her sunglasses. “What happened to your leg?”
Ryder grimaced. She might as well have doused him in ice water. “Slight run-in with artillery.” Stiffness nipped and he massaged the muscle along his thigh, feeling the familiar ridge of scar beneath the fabric of his jeans. “It’s nothing.”
“In my meager experience, no run-in with artillery is ever slight.”
Ryder bit his tongue. No use in inciting a full-blown argument. As they neared the lake, the landscape smoothed and gentled. A hush enveloped them, back-dropped by a piano melody streaming from the radio. The air sweetened with the scent of hyacinth that bloomed along the water’s edge. Ryder knew how much Ali loved the scent; when they were kids she often cut the flowers and wove them into her hair.
“It’s still beautiful,” Ryder murmured as he lowered the passenger window. A warm spring breeze rushed through the sedan’s cab. “Just as I remember.”
“You expected different?” Ali brushed tears from her cheeks as they turned onto the long, winding drive that led to the inn.
“It’s been a while.” Ryder sucked down a breath. The road was no longer packed gravel, but had been black-topped. Bradford pears that Ali’s dad had planted years before grew tall and rounded, forming a generous canopy of white blooms along the pavement. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“You may be surprised by the things that have changed around here…and those that haven’t.”
Ryder chewed on that a moment, swallowed hard as he wondered just how much she had changed.
“There’s the inn.” As Ali motioned, her lips curved into a smile. Light danced in her almond-shaped eyes. There was no denying—she loved the place.
Willow Inn rose like a sentinel nestled atop a cove along the prettiest inlet of the quiet lake, bordered by woods he and Ali had spent hours exploring as kids. Graceful willows danced along the lakeside, their wispy arms swaying in a breeze that kissed and caressed.
“What happened to all the flowers—the rock gardens and the koi pond?” Though the building itself appeared to be meticulously-maintained, the grounds, once exploding with a plethora of flower beds, were barren and lifeless.
“A vicious storm blew through last summer. It felled several trees and tore up a lot of the grounds. You know I didn’t inherit my dad’s green thumb. Let’s just say it’s been a challenge to restore the gardens. I really need to hire someone, but money’s a bit tight right now.”
“I could help with that.” Already, the cogs were turning. “I know a thing or two about landscaping.”
“There’s no need, Ryder.” Ali shook her head stiffly. “You have your own business to take care of. Mama Stallings—”
Ryder didn’t want to think about that—not yet. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he’d never see Mama again, never share her timely words of wisdom. He didn’t want to remember the way the sweet but opinionated woman had taken him in and cared for him, fed him and comforted him while his dad got lost in an endless string of benders. No, Ryder didn’t want to think about how he’d never hear her gentle, coaxing voice again when he showed up on her doorstep exhausted and scared. He’d never again devour crispy chicken she fried especially for him when hunger gnawed his belly like a sewer rat. “It won’t be the same without your folks here.”
“You’ll get used to it. I have.”
“They still blame me, don’t they?”
“They never blamed you for what happened, Ryder.” Ali shook her head. “There’s no one to blame. It just…happened.”
“Do you truly believe that?” Remembering her brother’s funeral and the grief that accompanied it, Ryder had a hard time clearing the lump from his throat to continue. “Honestly, Ali?”
She kept her gaze trained to the road, her shoulders stiff. Her silence was all the answer Ryder needed. He twined his fingers with hers once again, held on as if his life—his entire future—depended on it.
“I’m so sorry.”
****
Ali sighed as she shoved open the front door of the inn and crossed the threshold. Stepping into the Willow Inn was like being enfolded in a warm embrace. She never grew tired of the peace that surrounded her here. Even when every guest room was filled and her to-do list overflowed, she felt content. She inhaled the scent of hyacinth from dried blooms scattered in decorative bowls along the entrance way and smiled.
Home. The inn was, and always would be, her home. The thought nestled along her heart, comforting as she wove her way behind the check-in desk and gathered a set of keys from the lock box tucked on a shelf beneath the guest register. She tossed the keys to Ryder.
“Take the room on the third floor. It’s the only one on that level and has its own bath, so you can enjoy your privacy.”
He snagged the keys, jangled them. “I remember where everything is.”
“Right.” She nodded, suddenly remembering how they’d played countless hours of Hide-and-Seek here, even as teenagers. Ryder had always discovered the best hiding places, and she’d never grown weary of searching for him. “I’ll bet you’re hungry, too.”
“You could say that.” The gleam in his eye told her he was hungry in more ways than she cared to imagine. “Missed dinner last night, thanks to your…beau.”
“I’ll have breakfast ready in half an hour. You’re welcome to join the guests.”
“I may just do that.” He paused, grinned so the dimple along his jaw popped. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He turned away and Ali waited until she heard his boots on the wooden stairs. Shaking her head, she strode toward the kitchen.
Seven years and he calls out of the blue, and then shows up on the doorstep with nothing more than an overnight bag? What�
��s up with that?
Alison gathered pans and utensils from cabinets and drawers. She hurried to scramble eggs and get bacon frying. She kneaded dough she’d prepared the night before, slicing it into fluffy buttermilk biscuits on a greased pan. She slipped the pan into the oven and stirred thick, white gravy laden with generous chunks of sausage that warmed in a chafing dish on the dining room buffet.
Good thing the guest list was light—merely two couples. The newlyweds would check out this morning, while a retired pair was booked through the weekend.
Bacon crackled in the frying pan while Ali’s belly grumbled at the mouth-watering aroma. She pressed the power button on the coffeemaker and the machine belched and spat, filling the carafe with a flavorful French-vanilla.
Ali’s gaze wandered to a row of windows that ran the entire length of the dining room beyond. If the weather held, she’d throw them open and let the spring breeze carry its crisp, sweet scent of pine through the inn. She loved to watch the cream-colored sheers billow as the wind swirled and danced around them.
Ryder was home.
As quickly as it had come, Ali’s appetite fled. A hand slipped to her cheek, touching the place where he’d gently kissed her. With a lightning flash of horror, Ali realized she’d missed him—a lot. A lifetime of feelings built on a treasured friendship that flourished into love, rushed over her like a swollen river.
What was she supposed to do with the emotion?
Bacon grease spattered and popped, giving her an answer—file it for later. There was too much work to tend to now. She couldn’t think about anything besides what came next—breakfast for her guests.
Ali returned to the shiny commercial-grade stove. It was one of the reasons money was tight—she’d remodeled the aging kitchen. A double convection oven and walk-in pantry-style refrigerator made food preparation a pleasure she couldn’t resist, while maple cabinets added a stylish flair. She’d always loved to cook, and the guests gave her all the excuse she needed.
She scooped cheese-drizzled scrambled eggs into the chafing dish to the right of the gravy, while the biscuits, now perfectly-browned, were tumbled into a dish to the left. Last, Ali added crisp bacon to the final chafing dish and stepped back, satisfied. The rich aroma was sure to lure guests down to the dining room soon enough.
