After the woman left, the crowd thinned. Evie had found that the slow times at art fairs like this were generally first thing in the morning and midafternoon. She sat watching the few stragglers in the ceramics booth across the grassy pathway, wishing she could stretch out in the shade and take a little siesta.
She hated to admit it, but she missed Jacques’s company. He was actually a good draw for the booth. When she had him with her, more than one shopper would dawdle at her booth to ask a question about Jacques’s still relatively uncommon breed and would end up walking out with a necklace or a bracelet.
Jacques was so well-mannered that he usually would just plop on his belly and let everyone fuss over him. He loved children too and would especially put out the charm when impatient little kids would come in, dragged by mothers who often wanted to browse through the beadwork.
Taryn probably was enjoying him. The dog adored her with unconditional love and the feeling was abundantly mutual.
Thinking of Taryn inevitably led to thoughts of Brodie. Had he taken Taryn and Jacques for a walk around the Silver Strike Reservoir trail, as he’d promised? She loved that trail. The sugar maples would be turning red to go with the aspen gold at the higher elevations already and it was a lovely walk in the fall—especially good for the wheelchair, as it was paved and relatively level. Maybe Taryn would even be able to work on her walking on the wide path, as long as Brodie provided plenty of support. She should have suggested he take the girl’s walker with them to give her a chance….
She pressed a hand to the deep ache in her shoulder. The cut on her cheek had been small, the bruise already beginning to heal, but her shoulder where the five-pound weight had fallen before tumbling to the floor hurt far worse. She had been icing it every night back at her hotel but it still ached constantly, probably a deep contusion from the weight striking her shoulder.
Wasn’t that always the way? The worst pains were typically the ones most hidden from the rest of the world.
She leaned her head back against the comfortable lawn chair she’d picked up after the first art show. If she closed her eyes, she would once more be back in the guest bathroom of Brodie’s home, feeling the warmth of his fingers as he washed away the residue of blood and applied a bandage—and then the warmth of those fingers as the moment turned into something much more.
That stunning kiss seemed burned into her memory, sneaking out at the most inconvenient moments to trip up her thoughts.
I care about you and I believe you’re beginning to care about me.
She had been able to think about little else through the long drive from Hope’s Crossing to Crested Butte. He couldn’t mean it. From all her mother had told Evie, Brodie didn’t go for long-term arrangements. He rarely dated, and when he did it, he picked cool and reserved professional women. They probably spent all their time together comparing stock portfolios.
He couldn’t seriously be interested in her. If he had been, he wouldn’t be now.
I don’t want a relationship with you.
He didn’t seem to have taken that declaration very well but the truth was, she had a lousy track record with men—her fault, not theirs.
Some part of her wondered if losing her father when she was an impressionable teenager had left her somehow broken when it came to men. She tended to push away everyone who wanted to get close to her, from her first boyfriend to the fiancé she had brushed aside.
Paulo, her college boyfriend, had been a study in contrasts: brilliant scientist who would someday probably come up with the cure to all manner of diseases, and passionate Italian who loved to cook elaborate meals and engage in deep philosophical discussions with his hands flying as he expressed his impassioned views about everything from animal rights to Fellini movies.
She had loved him deeply—or thought she had. Though they had talked about moving in together when her lease ran out and she started graduate school, the wildfire that had scorched through her family home her senior year of college had changed everything.
She had rushed home to help her mother and sister and had let her and Paulo’s love wither and die from inattention—phone calls she didn’t take, emails she didn’t return, visits she canceled at the last minute.
Eventually Paulo hadn’t been content to let their relationship slip away into oblivion, as she probably would have preferred by that point. He had confronted her in his intense, passionate way. He couldn’t have picked worse timing. Her sister was dying, her mother still badly injured. She didn’t have time or patience for his drama and moods and had told him so in no uncertain terms.
Six years later, she had repeated the pattern, this time with an actual fiancé. On paper she and Craig Addison should have had a perfect life together. He was a rehab physician and their relationship had been forged on a mutual love of the outdoors, on hiking and mountain biking, sailing in the summer, cross-country skiing in the winter.
They had decided not to live together until after the wedding, but three months before they were scheduled to exchange vows at her favorite beach near Santa Barbara, she had had that fateful dinner party when Meredith had asked if Evie would consider adopting Cassie.
Craig hadn’t wanted her to take on the responsibility. Why would she possibly want to destroy the lifestyle they both had worked so hard to earn? he had argued, quite persuasively. How could they go hiking, mountain biking, take his sailboat over to Catalina for a long weekend, if they were saddled with the burden of a wheelchair-bound girl, dependent on others for the most basic of needs?
She had listened to him carefully as he argued his case. She even agreed with some of his points. But the idea of tossing Cassie into the foster care system had been untenable. She couldn’t do it. She’d seen too many children with disabilities shuffled around from placement to placement until they ended up warehoused in a facility somewhere, with only staff to care for them. She loved Cassie. She couldn’t do that to the girl, not when she had the means, the skill and the opportunity to provide a comfortable home for her.
She refused to waver from her view and Craig ultimately demanded she choose: a life with him or guardianship of Cassie. Easy as that. And just as simply, she’d picked Cassie, without reservation or regrets.
Craig had ended up marrying a girl he had met mountain climbing, just six months after he and Evie had been set to exchange vows on that Santa Barbara beach.
At times, the ease with which she had moved on without a backward glance after both breakups worried Evie, made her wonder if something was wrong with her that precluded her from throwing herself wholeheartedly into a relationship.
She had friends who loved that passionately. Claire and Riley, for instance. The air around them seemed to shiver with their happiness when the two of them were together and some secret part of Evie envied that at the same time she feared it.
Her mother had loved her father like that but it had been one-sided. Her father’s life had revolved around his work, not his family, and Evie had witnessed the toll it took on her mother. After her father’s massive heart attack, her mother had shut herself away from both of her daughters for a long time, leaving Evie again charged with watching over her sister.
If she were truthful, she wanted to give herself wholeheartedly to someone and have them love her that way in return. So why did she persist in holding some part of her heart separate and safe?
She feared Brodie was already well on his way to breaching that last defense, which was probably the reason she was fighting so hard to protect it. The man had only asked her to dinner, she reminded herself sternly. He wasn’t asking her to move in, for heaven’s sake. What was the harm in going to dinner with him?
A pair of elderly women who had to be sisters wandered into her booth and began roaming gnarled hands over the beads while they talked about the pieces. She always loved it when customers surrendered to the tactile appeal of beads, something she loved herself. No, beading wasn’t all soft and comforting like knitting or quilting, but it presen
ted its own particular pleasures.
“Oh, this is lovely,” one of the women exclaimed, holding up a wire-wrapped necklace made of semiprecious stones that Claire had made earlier in the summer.
“Those are all native Colorado stones,” Evie said, grateful for the distraction from her thoughts. “We work with a rock collector in Denver who finds them and prepares them for us.”
“Exquisite. Simply exquisite,” the woman said.
“Buy it, May,” the other one said. “It can be a birthday present to yourself.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” May said.
“Go ahead and try it on,” Evie said, pulling out the hand mirror from below the makeshift counter.
The older women hesitated for a moment then acquiesced and Evie knew she had the sale. Once the customer tried something on, odds were great she would decide she liked the feel of it enough to buy it.
Sure enough, May turned this way and that in the mirror before pulling out her credit card. Eventually she and her sister left with two pairs of earrings each and another necklace centered around an antique cameo brooch Evie had found in a thrift store and repurposed.
Would she be like that woman when she was in her seventies, buying birthday presents for herself because she didn’t have anyone else to buy them for her? Or would she ever be able to take that risk and love without holding that safe piece back?
* * *
ALMOST HOME.
The happy lift of her spirits to be returning to Hope’s Crossing always took Evie a little by surprise. As the curves in the road—the shape of the mountains—became more familiar to her, she sat up a little straighter and some of the leftover tension from the hectic weekend seemed to seep away.
A storm was moving in. Lightning flashed in the mountain peaks from black-edged, roiling clouds. She adored thunderstorms in Hope’s Crossing, when she could sit on the wide ledge of her windows overlooking Main Street and watch the lighting arc across the tops of the mountains.
She was sure to enjoy this one even more, knowing she wouldn’t have to scramble under the awning at the festival, trying frantically to protect the wares from the elements. All the remaining inventory—what little was left of it—was safely tucked away in boxes in the back of her car now and she was done with showing beadwork except at the store for a while.
The weather had been gorgeous all weekend and the arts fair had drawn huge crowds looking to escape the heat of lower elevations. Sales had been brisk, much better than any of the other fairs she’d attended all summer. Even so, she was happy to be done with the traveling.
As she’d expected, the town was quiet. People were probably having Labor Day barbecues or driving back from camping or boating somewhere.
She felt as if she’d been out of touch for weeks instead of only a few days. Much to her chagrin, she had been so discombobulated by that kiss she and Brodie had shared that she had somehow forgotten to pack the charger for her cell phone. Though she’d been more than a little lost without her phone and had been tempted to search Crested Butte until she could find another charger, the hours of the art fair had left her with little free time the first day, and by the second day she had decided no one needed to reach her that badly.
Woodrose Mountain loomed above town and she had a sudden wild urge to unwind with a moonlight hike after the long drive. Probably not the smartest idea, with that lightning flashing around, even if Jacques were with her to scare away any night-roaming critters.
She missed that crazy dog. She was almost tempted to drive to the Thornes’ to get him, if she could figure out a way to sneak him out without encountering Brodie. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing, if he caught her at it? Better to just wait until the morning, she supposed.
Thunder rumbled as she parked behind the store. A few drops of rain splattered her as she hurried for the back garden with her suitcase. She fumbled in the darkness with the garden gate latch but finally found it and pushed it open—only to be met by a familiar, well-mannered bark.
She froze. Impossible. Brodie would never have dropped Jacques off and just left him there, would he, especially not with inclement weather threatening? She must be imagining things.
After a few moments, her eyes adjusted to the darkness in time to see Jacques bounding to her, his fur gleaming as the moon briefly peeked out from behind the rain clouds.
The dog wasn’t alone, she realized an instant later as Brodie uncoiled from one of the chairs around the patio table.
“Brodie! What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
The low words shivered down her spine and she swallowed. “This is becoming a bad habit.”
His face was a pale blur in the dim light. “Tell me about it. I was a little desperate to talk to you tonight.”
Her pulse skittered. “Oh?”
“My mother told me you planned to be home this evening. I figured it would be easier to catch you tonight than in the morning.”
“Has Jacques really been that much trouble?”
He scratched the dog behind the ears and received an adoring gaze in return. “What? No. He’s been fine. Taryn had a great time with him. You were right. He’s a very well-mannered dog. We quite enjoyed having the company.”
As if in punctuation, lightning flashed and almost simultaneously a huge thunderclap shook the building. She jumped and Jacques instantly left Brodie’s side to pad toward her. He brushed against her, his sturdy body warm and comforting, and her heart swelled with affection for this creature who gave his love with such sweet generosity.
Rain began to spatter in earnest now, stirring up the delicious scent of dirt and flowers and wet brick. Another flash of lighting arced across the sky, followed by the rumble of thunder.
“Why don’t you come inside before we’re all drenched? We can talk upstairs.”
“Good idea.” He grabbed her suitcase from her before she could protest and headed for the narrow stairway.
As she expected, her house was once more stuffy, as it had been the first time he had come to see her. She went to the windows and opened them and immediately a cool, rain-scented breeze floated in, fluttering the curtains.
“Sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”
“You just returned from a trip. You don’t need to play the perfect hostess here. You sit down.”
She was tired. Exhaustion crashed over her in waves now that she was done driving. She sank onto the couch and he sat next to her on the comfy armchair she’d bought at a furniture show in Denver and hauled home on top of her car.
Jacques wandered around the apartment, sniffing every corner as if reacquainting himself with the space. That intense awareness of Brodie seemed to curl through her and all she could think about was how wonderful it would feel to have his arms wrapped around her right now, to lean on someone else for a change.
“What’s going on, Brodie?”
He sighed, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I need advice.”
And he was coming to her? “Of course. What’s up?”
“You heard about Charlie’s court appearance, right?”
“Oh, I’d forgotten that. I haven’t heard anything. My phone’s been dead and I forgot to take my charger.”
“Ah. So that’s why you didn’t take my calls. I’ve been trying to reach you since you left town. I thought perhaps you were avoiding me.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked innocently, but even she wasn’t convinced. If her phone had been working she probably would have avoided his call.
“I couldn’t figure it out. But I’m heading out tomorrow on business and before I left I really needed your opinion about what to do.”
“I’m sorry. Start from the beginning. What happened with Charlie’s court appearance?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
“Then tell me, for pity’s sake!” she exclaimed.
He made a rueful face. “I’m still trying to soak it in, if you want the truth. He pleaded guilty
to all counts. The negligent homicide, underage drinking, driving while intoxicated. All of it. It was a total shock to everyone.”
She stared, not quite sure how to respond. Oh, Charlie, she thought. “And his father was okay with that?”
“I don’t think he had any idea what the kid was planning. I thought he and the other attorneys were going to wet themselves trying to shut the kid up.”
“The judge allowed it?”
He nodded solemnly. “If you had heard Charlie, you would have understood why. He was very convincing. He said he understood what he’d done was wrong, that he deeply regretted the harm he had caused to individuals and the town as a whole, and he was prepared to pay his debt to society. He was quite persuasive. Judge Kawa couldn’t help but take him at his word.”
She pictured Mayor Beaumont and his wife, Laura. She imagined both of them were completely certain their son would wriggle out of the charges against him. Why wouldn’t he, when he had their money and power to help him?
Maybe this was all some sort of elaborate plea agreement in exchange for leniency at sentencing.
She turned her attention back to Brodie and found him waiting for her reaction. She still didn’t understand what this had to do with her and why he was here soliciting her opinion. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Of course. His actions took one life and ruined another. He needs to pay.” He raked a hand through his hair, his features torn.
“But?”
“I don’t know. Nothing. Just…it struck me in that courtroom that he’s just a kid. Barely seventeen.”
This was the first time she’d seen him be at all compassionate toward the boy. It warmed her deep inside and, foolishly, made her want to weep.
“Thank you for telling me about Charlie,” she finally managed. “I’m still curious about what you need from me.”
“Taryn is beside herself. She overheard me talking to my mother about it and she totally freaked. Since Friday, the only thing she wants to talk about is how she is going to speak at his sentencing hearing this week. I need you to help me convince her not to do that.”
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