by Amy Gamet
You don’t know what’s wrong with her.
All her mom said when she called was she was having some health problems, and things didn’t look good. That statement alone was enough to get Lisa’s feet moving and headed home to Moon Lake, but now she wanted to know.
"I thought we could go to lunch tomorrow," said her mother. "Maybe twelve thirty?"
"Okay. I was going to come up and see you today, too."
"Oh, that’s not necessary. I’ll see you after you get a good night’s sleep."
Lisa frowned.
Maybe she’s not feeling well and doesn’t want me to see her like that. "Mom, what exactly is wrong with you, health-wise?"
"I don’t want to get into the details."
"Please. I’m worried."
"Life is a terminal condition, Lisa. We’re all given just so much time. The question is what you do with it. Are you happy with the choices you’ve made?"
"I’m asking about you, Mom."
"And I’m asking about your life. Are you happy with the choices you’ve made?"
Lisa shook her head, gazing into the distance. "No."
"Then make different ones."
Lisa lifted her chin.
Oh, how she wanted to do that.
"I’m trying," she whispered.
"Maybe the reason you’re so upset about me selling the house is because you’re not so happy where you are."
"Happiness isn’t a place."
"Isn’t it? I’d be happy if you moved home."
Lisa frowned. "How do you think that would work, Mom? How long before you wish you’d never asked me? A week? Ten days?"
"I would always want you here."
"You never did before."
"That’s not true. I never wanted you to go away. I thought you were spreading your wings and seeing if you could fly."
Her mother’s words were bittersweet, and a sharp little ache settled into Lisa’s chest. "I was stretching my legs and running away as fast as I could." She wiped at a single tear that fell.
For the briefest of moments, she pictured herself working on the family house, putting up window boxes full of red flowers. It was a nice dream, and one she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying for so long, but her mother was selling. Lisa couldn’t have it, even if she wanted it.
Her mind wandered to her current apartment, the studio in Alphabet City with the window overlooking an alley. Suddenly it didn’t seem quite as glamorous as she liked to imagine.
As if reading her mind, her mother asked, "How long are you in town?"
"I haven’t decided yet."
"If you’re staying at the house, you’ll have to keep out of Greg’s way. He’s there working on a few things for me."
"Yes, I know, we already ran into each other. You don’t mind me staying here?"
Her mother was quiet a beat too long. "Maybe it’s not such a good idea for the two of you to be together."
Lisa sighed. Why did she even ask? "It’s not like I planned it, Mother. Besides, why can’t I be alone with Greg?"
"It’s not you being alone with him that I object to. It’s just… He’s had a hard time, Lisa. He’s not the same as you remember."
Lisa furrowed her brow. "What happened?"
"Afghanistan."
"Oh, no…" A cold, sinking feeling settled in Lisa’s abdomen. Hadn’t she been afraid something like this might happen? Every time she saw a story on the news about the soldiers suffering with PTSD she worried for that man.
She was devastated to hear it had been hard for him, instantly worried for all he may have gone through. "Is he okay?"
"I don’t know."
The sound of heavy footsteps climbing the stairs, and Lisa turned to see Greg step into the doorway, hoping he hadn’t heard her conversation. When he held up the rental agreement she’d tucked under the windshield of the car she ran into, her eyes widened.
"I gotta go, Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow." She hung up.
He was angry, that was clear, his chest rising and falling with every breath, and the muscles of his arm were flexed like he was holding something far heavier than a piece of paper.
"You hit my truck," he said, annunciating every word.
Lisa thought she might be sick. Thousands of cars in this town, and she had to crash into his. She swallowed hard. "I’m sorry. It was raining really hard and I couldn’t see."
He took three menacing steps toward her. "Then you shouldn’t have been driving at all."
"That’s probably true. I thought about pulling over. Which, obviously, I should have."
He took another step, putting him firmly into her personal space. "But instead, you kept driving and plowed into the back of my brand new truck."
She could smell him, a woodsy mix of man and something dangerous, and she clenched her hand into a fist. "It’s new?"
"Yes."
"I’m sure a good body shop can fix it right up." She smiled tentatively.
His nostrils flared, making her heart skip a beat.
This must be what a mouse feels like, staring up at a big, angry cat.
"A body shop wouldn’t have to fix it up if you hadn’t smashed into it in the first place. Where did you learn to drive, huh? ‘I can’t see anything, so I’ll just keep going.’"
She scowled, no longer feeling quite so recalcitrant. "My rental car was damaged too."
"That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day."
"So the rental car place gave me a nice red convertible instead." She smiled. "It’s really cute. But don’t worry. Nothing excites the ladies more than a smashed-in tailpipe."
He stood up straight. "I didn’t miss you. Do you know that?"
"I didn’t miss you either." She winked. "But now that I’m back, it sure is good to see you."
* * *
Greg’s muscles were clenched and ready for a fight, but he forced himself to walk away from the woman responsible for his current anger.
He could smell her from here, the flowery musk of her flesh, and a wave of guilt crested against his conscience.
I’d have to be a dead man not to notice that body.
He’d always managed to keep Lisa in a little box in his mind, a box clearly labeled "Melanie’s kid sister," and he knew better than to open it. But that relationship was now a moot point, and he was struck full force by her raucous combination of curvy and lean that would drive any man crazy.
He pinched the skin between his eyes. He should get out of here. Tell Mrs. Addario to hire another contractor to finish up the job. He mentally flipped through the deck of contractors in Moon Lake, knowing what would happen if one of them were sharing space with Lisa Addario for the next few days. If her past behavior was any indication, she’d cozy up to any man within a hundred foot radius.
Lisa tried on men like other women tried on shoes, without a thought to what the discard pile said about her as a person. A streak of possessiveness shot through his chest and he forced it back down. "They can have her," he muttered.
He took out his phone and dialed Mrs. Addario.
"You didn’t mention Lisa would be staying at the house."
"Oh, no? It must have slipped my mind."
He started down the steps. "Mrs. Addario, I’m going to have a buddy of mine finish up the bathroom floor project."
"But I want you."
"It’s an easy job. I think it would be better if someone else took over."
"Because of Lisa."
"Yes, Ma’am."
"But that’s why I want you there. You’re the only one I’d trust with my house, and I’d feel better knowing you’re the one there with her. You know how she is, and you know how to handle her, Greg. I need your help."
He exhaled on a huff and let himself out of the house, knowing he’d been beaten. Anyone else, and he could have walked away without a problem, but his ex-girlfriend’s mother held a special place in his heart. "Okay, Mrs. Addario. I’ll finish it up."
He walked to the back of his truck
to put the rest of his tools away, his eyes narrowing when he again saw the damage to the rear bumper.
"Oh, thank you, Greg," Mrs. Addario continued. "It means so much to me that I can count on you. And don’t worry about Lisa," she said. "She has a good heart, she really does."
"I’ll try to remember that when I’m ready to strangle her."
* * *
The hot water felt good.
Really good.
Lisa hadn’t had a shower this great since she’d left Moon Lake. Her apartment in New York City had a low-flow shower head that took all the joy out of bathing, but this old clawfoot tub with the white shower curtain was like heaven.
"I am never leaving this place," she said out loud.
She frowned. She’d been talking about the shower, but she knew a little part of herself was thinking about the house and Moon Lake in general, and she was suddenly certain she was losing her mind.
There were good reasons why she left this town, reasons that likely hadn’t changed in the time she’d been gone.
Namely, Mom and Melanie.
But hadn’t her mother invited her back, said she wanted to her to visit?
Lisa didn’t need a crystal ball to see what was coming. Her mom and maybe even Melanie would seem happy to see her, then one by one little hurts would get hurled into the air, bits of half-truths and always and you-nevers, until Lisa couldn’t wait to disappear once again. She might want to make better choices for herself moving forward, but it wasn’t going to happen in Moon Lake.
There wasn’t room in anyone’s perception of her to allow for change, her present forever entwined with her past, no matter how badly she might want to separate the two.
Greg said Melanie was married now, and Lisa had a hard time imagining her sister with anyone except Greg himself. Those two had been inseparable, and though she hated to admit it, they’d quite obviously been deeply in love.
And if Lisa had been just the teensiest bit jealous that her sister was dating the sweetest and hottest guy in town, well who could blame her?
She frowned.
What happened to break the two of them apart?
She ran the soap up her arm and over her collarbone, her mind imagining the kind of wrongs that could leave love lying by the wayside.
Had Greg cheated on her sister?
He didn’t seem the type, but he also didn’t seem the type to walk away when the going got tough. Maybe it had been Melanie who did the walking. Maybe she even left him for the guy she married.
Lisa stepped forward into the spray, allowing it to pummel her forehead and scalp.
Greg’s booming voice outside the shower made her jump. "What the hell are you doing?"
She gasped, suddenly panicked. "Taking a shower! What are you doing, barging in here like this?"
"The pipes are still leaking, only now the whole subfloor’s exposed. You’re getting everything wet. Get out."
She closed her eyes. Only she could ruin something important by washing her hair. She moved to turn off the water.
"Unbelievable," he muttered. "What were you thinking?"
Her hand froze, her cheeks instantly heating. He made her sound like an idiot, and after his comments on her driving yesterday, his words hurt more than they should have.
But he didn’t stop there.
"Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re getting all the wood wet. Or are you so self-centered you’ll enjoy a nice long shower while your mother’s house gets completely saturated?"
She clenched her hands. "This is my house, and I will get out when I damn well please. Now get out of this room."
"You’re unbelievable." The shower curtain opened halfway with the screaming of metal hooks across the pole, and Lisa screamed too, rushing to cover her wet skin with her arms. Greg reached in and turned off the water. "Shower time’s over, princess. Time to get out."
"What the hell?"
"Oh relax, I’m not looking," he said.
"How dare you?"
"Easy. I’m here to take care of your mother, and you’re making that difficult. Out."
She was so angry she could have slapped him, and she wished she was dressed just so she could hop out and give him a piece of her mind.
The bathroom door slammed and she peeked around the corner.
He was gone.
Her heart was clamoring in her chest, and she took a shaking breath. She saw the floor was indeed covered in water, the boards beneath the tile clearly soaked. He’d been right, but his words stung like a physical slap.
She wrapped herself in a towel, feeling as though she’d gone a few rounds in the boxing ring and wasn’t faring well against the other contender.
Padding into the bedroom she locked the door and collapsed on the bed. She’d been back in Moon Lake less than twenty-four hours, and already things were going downhill.
Chapter 3
I should just leave.
Greg ran a hand through his hair. He could hear Lisa walking around upstairs. He had to get started—he’d come here to work—but no way was he going to go back up there until he was sure she was dressed, preferably in a long black habit and a wimple.
The image of her naked body was seared into his brain. Oh, he hadn’t peeked. Or he hadn’t meant to, at least. Lisa’s body had been reflected in the chrome shower fixture, clear as a mirror.
He feared he could draw Lisa’s full, round breasts from memory if he lived to be a hundred, trace the curve of her small waist flaring to lushly rounded hips.
The sound of her coming down the stairs made him turn, hoping his face revealed nothing of his thoughts. She wore a breezy white top and his stomach clenched as her breasts bounced beneath it. What had possessed him to agree to finish this job once he knew she was back in town? Only a madman would walk into such dangerous temptation.
She met his eyes as she crossed to him. "I’m going to see my mother. You want me to tell her you quit?"
"Why would you do that?"
"Well, it’s that or get fired for the little stunt you pulled this morning."
Greg laughed, genuinely amused. "Your mother would never fire me."
Lisa narrowed her eyes.
"I’m her favorite." He winked. "Besides, you were the one who got everything wet."
She huffed and moved to walk past him, treating him to the smell of shampoo and soap and reminding him again of her body in the shower.
"I didn’t do it on purpose, you know."
"But you didn’t turn it off when I told you to."
"You were being a jerk, as usual."
"Forgive me for being cranky. The body shop says it’s going to be a week before I get my truck back. You did about two grand in damage with your smooth parking job."
She tilted her head. "You know, I was really upset when I hit that truck. But then I found out it was yours, and I wasn’t so upset anymore."
He wanted to smack that smug look off her face. "It’s really hard to drive a car, isn’t it, Princess? With all those pedals and buttons and everything."
His phone began to ring, but he kept talking. "And by all means, if you can’t see, just keep driving."
Lisa crossed her arms. "Finish your work, and get out of my house."
"It’s not your house." He answered his phone, turning away from her. "Greg Mora."
"Hey Greg, it’s Mary Kay Tucker returning your call."
His stomach instantly clenched.
Here we go.
"Thanks for getting back to me, Mayor. Did you get my proposal?"
"I did." She clucked her tongue. "You want the town to refurbish the old Veterans Memorial out by Cross Creek."
"That’s right. It’s virtually falling apart, and other than mowing the grass, the town doesn’t do anything to preserve it. It’s downright shameful for our veterans and their families."
"I can’t say I disagree, Greg, but Moon Lake’s taken on a lot this year with the town park project. Nearly two million dollars in renovations, and I don’t have t
o tell you what a significant outlay that is for a town this size."
Greg could feel his hope beginning to wane.
How could it come down to this, to the opinion of one person?
Since his tour of duty in Afghanistan, he had an appreciation for war memorials and what they could mean to the men who fought in any kind of combat.
Especially the ones who lived, but for whom the war was never really over.
Like me.
He took a deep breath. He’d come a long way in the three years since he came home, from a man who could barely stand to be back to his "regular" life to an advocate for veterans’ rights. But a part of him was still in combat, no matter how far removed his body was from that fight.
"Mayor, the money would be negligible compared to that budget."
"You’re missing the point, Greg. That is our budget. Now I’m sorry, but the committee feels it wouldn’t be money well-spent, especially considering the relatively obscure location of the monument."
Anger raged to life in his gut. "It wouldn’t be money well-spent, to honor the men and women of this town who’ve fought for this country and lost their lives?"
"You’re twisting my meaning."
"No, Mayor, I’m not. You’d rather have new picnic tables and a playground to snap pictures of for the town website than take care of our own. Last year you put half a million into that new boardwalk. You care more about tourists than you do our own citizens."
"Tourism is one of our biggest industries. That money directly impacts the revenue for businesses run by our citizens, for boat and cabin rentals, for the marina and our local restaurants. The memorial does none of those things."
He shook his head as he stared into the distance. "The memorial does something more important."
"I’m sorry, Greg. I really am."
"I’m not giving up."
"I don’t expect you to. And Greg?"
"What?"
"Thank you for your service."
Greg hung up with a heavy sigh. He’d been hopeful the funding would be approved. Now he was right back to square one.
Lisa spoke behind him. "That didn’t sound good."
His chin came up. "That was a private conversation."
"Then you should have asked me to leave."
