An image of the twins’ bright smiles had dredged up a wave of fresh pain. What if he wasn’t the only one who’d been injured that night?
“Is everybody...okay?”
Aiden’s voice—barely more than a croak—had brought everyone to his side in an instant.
“We will be, bro, now that you’re awake.” Brendan had changed since he’d met the former Lily Michaels, but he still wasn’t what you’d call a touchy-feely kind of guy. So the husky rattle in his oldest brother’s voice was as unexpected—and unsettling—as the tears glistening in his eyes.
“I meant the people—” Aiden had swallowed and tried again “—in the other car.”
Brendan and Liam had exchanged a look.
“Aiden...according to the county deputy, your vehicle was the only one involved,” Liam had finally said. “A trucker spotted your pickup in the ditch and called 911. You were unconscious, so he sat with you until the ambulance arrived.”
“The deputy thought the load of lumber in the bed of the truck must have shifted when you rounded the corner,” Brendan added. “You tried to overcorrect and ended up in the ditch.”
“That’s not what happened.” Aiden’s vehicle had ended up in the ditch because he’d swerved to avoid a head-on collision with the one barreling toward him. “I saw...lights.”
Sunni had leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “You have a mild concussion, sweetheart. The doctor warned us that things might be a little fuzzy for a few weeks.”
“No—” Aiden had struggled to sit up, but Liam’s palm, rimmed with calluses from the hours he spent in the shop, had gently pressed him into the mattress again.
“We can talk about it later. Right now you need to rest.”
As if on cue, a nurse had slipped into the room and put something in Aiden’s IV that made sure he took his brother’s advice.
Over the next forty-eight hours, the fuzziness subsided, but Aiden could still see those lights coming toward him...
“I’m sure Sunni has been worried sick about you.”
Aiden blinked and the lights disappeared. Regrettably, Mrs. Hammond was still there, glowering down at him.
“I would think you’ve caused that poor woman enough sleepless nights.”
The meaning was clear. His former teacher, like everyone else in Castle Falls, assumed the accident was Aiden’s fault. Because apparently it was easier for people to believe he’d taken the corner too fast than it was to believe someone in their close-knit community had forced him off the road and kept on going.
But the worst part?
Aiden was pretty sure his family believed it, too.
Chapter Two
“You’re all set, Mrs. Hammond.” Maddie tapped the send key. “The book should be here by the end of the week.”
“Thank you so much, Madeline.” Beverly Hammond was the only person in Castle Falls who refused to call Maddie by her nickname. The fifth-grade attendance sheet had recorded one Madeline Rose Montgomery, so Madeline she’d remained. “I’ll stop by and pick it up first thing Monday morning.”
“You’ve been waiting a year for it to come out, so why don’t I bring it to church on Sunday?” Maddie offered.
“That would be wonderful!” Mrs. Hammond leaned closer. “But we have to make a trade. The book for a batch of pecan turtles?”
“Deal!” Her former teacher had a weakness for suspense novels, while Maddie’s happened to be chocolate in any shape or form.
It was one of the reasons Maddie had loved growing up in Castle Falls.
People knew each other.
Her gaze slid toward the reading nook, something that had been happening way too often over the past half hour.
Judging from the expression on Aiden’s face, he wouldn’t put that particular trait on the “pro” column of living in a small town.
Maddie hadn’t heard what Mrs. Hammond said to him, but whatever it was had stripped the smile from Aiden’s face the moment the woman had walked away. He’d picked up one of the magazines, but Maddie suspected it was a barrier meant to hold people at bay rather than a way to pass the time.
The cell phone in her pocket vibrated, a reminder that the historical society’s monthly meeting was scheduled to start in ten minutes.
Encouraging members of the community to see the library as a gathering place had been at the top of Maddie’s goals when she’d moved into a full-time position. She’d extended the evening hours two days a week, talked local clubs into holding their meetings in the conference room and hosted special events on the weekends.
Change had taken place slowly—another characteristic of small-town life—but Maddie persevered. Things began to turn around when she showed the mayor’s wife how to unlock the secrets of social media. The woman had told a friend...who’d told a friend...who’d told a friend...and suddenly Maddie found herself teaching classes on everything from résumé writing to basic web design. For the last two years, at the request of the high school principal, Maddie had even helped some members of the graduating class with the research for their senior projects.
Her parents had expressed concern over how much time and energy she poured into her job, but Maddie loved every minute of it. And since there was very little chance she’d be blessed with a family of her own someday, Maddie had decided to bloom in the place God had planted her, and nurture the people He brought through the doors of the library instead.
A flash of light outside the window caught Maddie’s attention as she stood up from her desk. A white van sporting the logo of a regional medical clinic was rolling up to the curb. A few seconds later, a stocky man vaulted from the driver’s seat. The back door slid open and a hydraulic ramp made a slow descent toward the sidewalk. The interior of the van was empty, and the driver looked around.
That’s when Maddie realized the van wasn’t there to drop someone off. It was there to pick someone up.
And she was pretty sure she knew who that someone was. Maddie glanced at the reading nook again. Three members of the historical society had commandeered the table closest to Aiden so they could chat before their meeting started, and two of Maddie’s “regulars” stood by the coffeepot, absorbed in conversation.
Aiden continued to stare at the magazine, completely unaware the driver of the medical van was waiting outside. Considering the way he’d reacted when Maddie tried to help him before, she couldn’t imagine he would want an audience—or assistance—getting into the van.
Maddie saw the driver look at his watch and figured she had about sixty seconds before he came in.
Without considering all the possible ramifications of her actions—and Maddie always considered the possible ramifications of her actions—she walked over to the members of the historical society and eased into their conversation with a smile.
“Good morning, ladies!” She was careful not to look at Aiden. “I reserved the media room until eleven o’clock so you won’t have to share the computers with anyone this morning.”
Janette Morrison, the society’s secretary, patted Maddie on the shoulder. “Thank you again for helping me, Maddie. I couldn’t have found Adelle without your detective work.”
“You’re welcome.” Maddie tried not to smile.
While helping the woman trace her family genealogy, Maddie had discovered a little-known connection to the mysterious Adelle Lewis, the daughter of the wealthy lumber baron who’d founded Castle Falls.
Adelle’s name had abruptly disappeared from the society pages and everyone assumed she’d died, but Maddie had traced the young woman’s life through a series of old journals and found out that Adelle’s parents had disowned her after she’d married a young circuit preacher against their wishes.
Now the historical society viewed Maddie as a sort of twenty-first-century Nancy Drew, able to track down clues in cyberspace, link by link.
“I do have a question about how to use the microfilm scanner,” Janette said. “If you can spare a few minutes.”
“Of course. I’ll grab a cup of coffee and meet you there in a few minutes,” Maddie promised, not mentioning the coffee wasn’t for her.
Janette looked relieved as the rest of the committee members scooped up their belongings and filed toward the computer room in the back of the library.
“It’s pretty chilly out there this morning,” Maddie mused out loud. “I thought the med van driver might appreciate a cup of coffee.” She filled a disposable cup and turned toward the door.
She could practically feel Aiden’s eyes follow her. But would he?
The driver waved at Maddie, and she hoped he was a flavored-coffee kind of guy. A group of men who met at the library once a month to play chess claimed that it smelled like potpourri and wouldn’t touch the stuff.
“Good morning!” Maddie raised the steaming cup. “We’ve got curbside delivery today. Pumpkin spice.”
“Mmm.” The skeptical look on the driver’s face belied the teasing sparkle in his eyes. “Does it pair well with a jelly doughnut?”
“In my experience, everything goes with jelly doughnuts.” Maddie grinned and handed him the coffee.
She heard the soft click of the door and dared a glance over her shoulder. Aiden had bypassed the handicap-accessible ramp—no surprise there—and was making his way slowly down the concrete steps.
One. Two. Three.
Maddie silently cheered Aiden on until he reached the sidewalk. And lurched past her without a word. Again.
The driver tossed back a swallow of coffee and looked Aiden over. “PT?”
“Yup.” Aiden bared his teeth in a smile. “That’s me.”
Maddie turned away, knowing it was the driver’s job to assist his passenger even if said passenger didn’t want—or appreciate—the assistance.
But at least she’d made sure that Aiden no longer had an audience.
“Thanks, Pixie.”
It took a moment for Maddie to realize Aiden was talking to her. But he had to be, considering the only other person within earshot happened to be the burly guy climbing into the driver’s seat of the van.
But...Pixie? Seriously? He’d already forgotten her name?
“It’s Maddie—”
Aiden’s smile—this time a genuine, no-holds-barred, steal-the-breath-from-a-girl’s-lungs smile—was the last thing Maddie saw before the door slid shut.
Making her wonder if he’d forgotten at all.
* * *
Aiden’s hand tightened on the handle of the crutch as he stared out the window of the sunroom.
Autumn was his favorite time of year. Crimson trees lined both sides of the bank like torches, the sapphire-blue river the base of the flames. For Aiden, it was like paddling through a fiery corridor. Even on sunny days, the breeze carried a bite that stirred his senses. Made him feel alive.
Rich Mason, Sunni’s husband and Aiden’s foster dad, had teased Aiden about having river water flowing through his veins instead of blood. But for a ten-year-old boy who’d grown up surrounded by concrete, the river had proved more fascinating than a playground.
On the water, Aiden could move at his own pace. There was no one telling him to take it easy, slow down or—his least favorite of the three—stop.
And now, sixteen years later, over the course of a day, he’d heard every single one.
Aiden’s simmering frustration had turned into a rolling boil when he got home from therapy and saw the envelope on the coffee table. A few days after he’d been released from the hospital, Aiden had called the sheriff’s department and requested a copy of the deputy’s report from the night he’d been injured.
Aiden had practically ripped the document in his haste to open it. He skimmed through it, hoping to see something—anything—that would support his claim that another vehicle had been involved.
No skid marks, the officer had noted on the bottom.
Aiden had wanted to throw back his head and howl. There weren’t any skid marks because the vehicle in the oncoming lane hadn’t braked. And Aiden hadn’t had time to, either. If he’d been a minute earlier or a minute later, things would have turned out differently.
Why hadn’t God intervened on Aiden’s behalf?
That question had continued to plague him since the night of the accident, slowly chiseling away at the foundation of what he’d thought was an unshakeable faith with the cold, relentless pull of an undertow.
Aiden tried to shore it up by reciting scripture he’d memorized and pulling up the lyrics from praise songs, but over the past few days, the doubts had slowly claimed more territory.
But his family worried enough about his injuries. Aiden wasn’t about to admit his trust in God had sustained damage in the accident, too.
The door swung open and Aiden pressed out a smile for his brothers as they strode into the room.
“Missing something?” Brendan held up Aiden’s cell phone. “I found this on the bench in the laundry room.”
That’s because Aiden had left it there. An abandoned cell phone equaled freedom from emails, text messages and happy-face emojis.
“Oops.” Aiden pointed at his head. “Concussion.”
He’d been kidding, but instead of making a smart comeback, guilt flashed in his oldest brother’s eyes.
“Sorry,” Brendan murmured.
So was Aiden. Sorry his brothers felt the need to tiptoe around him when they used to wrestle him to the ground. Sorry they had to shoulder Aiden’s share of the work around the place in addition to their own, while squeezing in time to complete the course for River Quest.
Liam’s plan to finish the cabin that he and Anna and the twins would call home after the couple exchanged their wedding vows on Christmas Eve had been delayed because of Aiden, too.
With a damaged knee, climbing the thirteen steps up to the garage apartment he shared with Liam would have been as impossible as scaling a mountain. And because all the bedrooms in Sunni’s house were upstairs, too, Liam, the brother with the mad design skills, had been charged with converting the sunroom overlooking the river into a bedroom before Aiden was released from the hospital.
His family assumed that seeing the river outside his window would comfort him. But like a kid with his nose pressed against the glass of the candy store window, all it did was give Aiden a perfect view of everything he couldn’t have.
“How did therapy go today?” Liam asked.
Teeth-gritting, stomach-turning, excruciatingly painful. “Great.”
“Great,” Liam echoed, relief chasing the concern from his eyes.
How was it that Aiden could fool his brothers—the brothers who’d lived with him for twenty-six years—and a petite librarian with fern green eyes had seen right through him? Recognized him for the faker that he was?
Aiden didn’t have time to dwell on that—or why he remembered the color of Maddie Montgomery’s eyes—because Liam was nodding at Brendan, and Brendan...cleared his throat.
Aiden’s internal alarm system instantly went on high alert. If his oldest brother was struggling to find the right thing to say, chances were good it would be something Aiden didn’t want to hear.
“Don’t tell me this is another family meeting.” As far as Aiden was concerned, the last one hadn’t gone so well.
He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that their biological mother had kept her fourth pregnancy a secret and given a baby girl—Aiden’s baby sister—up for adoption after she was born.
And as much as Aiden loved and respected his oldest brother, he wasn’t thrilled Brendan had kept that a secret until a few months ago.
“Not tod—” Brendan caught himself. “Of course not. Liam and I need your opinion about something.”
Since when?
>
Aiden clamped down on the words so hard that pain shot down his jaw.
But he knew what Brendan and Liam were trying to do.
It was the same thing everyone—from Sunni to Anna’s eight-year-old twins—had been trying to do since the day Aiden was released from the hospital. They wanted him to feel useful.
But what his family didn’t seem to understand was the more they tried to make Aiden feel useful, the more useless he felt.
It was bad enough he’d been as helpless as a baby those first few days at home. Liam had had to help Aiden shower and get dressed. Brendan—Mr. Organized—had bought one of those plastic pill holders and divvied up Aiden’s pain meds in compartments that corresponded with the days of the week. His brothers had even taken turns checking on Aiden after he went to bed until he’d asked for a story, too.
They’d taken the hint and backed off. Now Aiden realized he’d simply been granted a temporary reprieve from “brother smother” while they plotted a new strategy.
“I printed out the map you drew.” A map Liam happened to have tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. “Do you have time to take a look at it?”
“Sure.” The word tasted bitter in Aiden’s mouth. Thanks to the guy who’d run him off the road, he had nothing but time.
He’d imagined being involved in every aspect of River Quest, and now he’d been reduced to the role of consultant. It was killing Aiden to watch his idea take shape under someone else’s hands—even if those hands belonged to his more-than-capable older brothers.
“The fire ring—” Liam pushed aside the flotsam and jetsam that had collected on the coffee table over the course of the day and set the map down. “It looks a little close to the victory platform.”
“It’s not a fire ring...it’s a ring of fire.”
Brendan frowned. “What’s the difference?”
Aiden couldn’t believe he had to ask. “One you roast marshmallows over, and one you run through.”
The Bachelor's Perfect Match Page 2
