“Oh, I’d like that!” She thought constantly about the baby’s gender. A boy with Sam’s good looks, or a little girl she understood? Lucy hoped for a girl, but Sam would love a boy.
They Googled names for girls first and made a list of possibilities. Lucy thought Elizabeth was pretty, and Sam liked Anastasia, which she didn’t like at all. Using Constance as a middle name was a strong possibility, since they both agreed his mother would want a little girl to have her own first name.
The list for a boy started with Noah and ended with Igor, because by midnight they were slaphappy.
After setting the tablets aside, Sam turned out the light and spooned her in his arms. He kissed her neck, then whispered, “I love you, Pudge. I always will.”
“I love you too,” she crooned back.
In just minutes he was snoring in her ear, but Lucy lay awake under the stars shining through the skylights, her hormones pinging and her soul aching. Closing her eyes, she prayed silently to the God who scared her to death.
Help me, Lord. Please. I don’t know why Sam loves me, and I don’t know how to be a good wife and mother. I forget to eat, and I lose things, and—and—I’m in so far over my head it isn’t funny. Amen. By the way, I’m Lucy . . . Lucy Waters now, not crazy Lucy Robinson. I hope Sam’s right about you loving us, because I’m so scared I can hardly breathe.
She whispered, “Amen,” felt Sam stir against her, and tried not to cry.
Chapter
9
Mia returned to Denver on Sunday morning, went to work on Monday, and was thrilled when Dr. Moore cut her loose with just a week’s notice and her heartfelt support.
“Get on with your life, Mia,” she said. “You’ve needed a change for a while.”
“Thank you. It’s true.” A weight lifted as Mia admitted to the fact that her life had become stagnant. She supposed friends sometimes saw things in her she couldn’t see for herself.
Over the next five days, she walked around in a cloud of heady excitement. For a woman who liked having a daily routine, making a big change was both scary and invigorating. She finished packing up her apartment, took Jake up on his offer to help her move into her new house, and on Saturday morning left Denver with her 4Runner crammed to the roof with boxes and clothes.
With her heart light, she took the Echo Falls exit from the four-lane highway, crossed a high bridge, and drove another thirty miles along the river. Running fast and high with the last of the spring runoff, it splashed over scattered granite boulders glistening in the sun. Far in the distance, she saw the top half of the double-decker waterfall that gave the town its name.
Echo Falls, so named because the bottom waterfall echoed the top one, was a popular spot for hikers. Maybe someday she’d make the climb to see it in person. Or maybe not. Pictures on the town’s website showed a steep, slippery trail. The last thing Mia needed right now was a twisted ankle.
A sign welcomed her to the town of Echo Falls, Population 5,025. She turned left on Main Street and saw the Brownie Emporium, a storefront restaurant with a sign that advertised breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She supposed it was the Echo Falls version of the Cheesecake Factory and decided to grab lunch before she met Jake at the house.
With her stomach growling, she parked in an angled space a few shops away, climbed out of her car, and paused to take in her new stomping ground. The row of storefronts, all restored and painted bright colors, belonged in another era. Mia felt as if she’d stepped back in time until she reached Blackstone Apothecary, where an orange poster covered the bottom corner of a display window. Heavy black letters tossed down a gauntlet.
Stop the Invasion!
Keep Crime Out of Our Town
With her heart heavy, she skimmed the poster’s dire predictions about crime and violence. The wording struck her as extreme, but the photograph of the burning house was a stark reminder of human brutality. Sometimes she thought the whole world suffered from PTSD on some level.
She was still reading the details when the glass door to the restaurant opened and a tall man with a stocky build, deep-set eyes, and close-cropped white hair stepped onto the sidewalk. Her attention dipped to the aluminum cane clutched in his gnarled hand. A future patient? It seemed possible. Echo Falls was a small, friendly town, so she returned his gaze with a polite smile.
“Good afternoon,” he said, approaching her. “I see you’re interested in my poster.”
Uh-oh. No way did Mia want to talk about Camp Connie. “It caught my eye, but I’m only here temporarily.”
The man shifted more of his weight to the cane. “I’m Bill Hatcher, Chairman of the Stop the Camp Committee.”
“Oh—” A second too late, she schooled her features into another polite smile. “I’m Mia Robinson. I’m taking over for Dr. Collins.”
Mr. Hatcher’s eyes narrowed. “I heard about you. You’re a friend of Jake Tanner’s.”
“Yes, I am.” Mia wasn’t surprised by his knowledge. Dr. Collins had told his frequent flyers to expect her, and news traveled fast in a small town, complete with gossipy details like how she had heard about the position.
Mr. Hatcher’s nose flared. “I presume you’re on his side in this mess.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side.” At least not publicly. Mia thought it was both unprofessional and unwise to mix medicine and politics. She didn’t want to alienate patients with her opinions, and she didn’t want to dodge debates in the office. She had shared her intention to remain publicly neutral with Jake over the wedding cake, and he wholeheartedly agreed.
Hatcher stood straighter, glaring down at her. “You’re a doctor, right?”
“A nurse practitioner.”
“Close enough. You have training, so you know something about teenagers and mental illness.”
“Yes, I do. But it’s not my specialty.”
“But you’ve seen the news.” His face wrinkled into a scowl. “This crazy world is full of sociopaths. Kids who don’t know right from wrong. Kids who don’t respect the law or other people’s property. That camp is a Trojan horse—”
“Mr. Hatcher, please. Let’s not argue.”
Ignoring her request, he ranted on about the camp and teenagers in general.
Mia sealed her lips, allowing him to blow off steam. After listening for another minute, she broke in as gently as she could. “I need to go now.”
“Fine! Ignore the problem.” He stabbed his cane at the poster. “But my house burned to the ground in that fire. My twelve-year-old cat died. I lost every photograph of my deceased wife, the quilts she made—”
Mia’s hand flew to her chest. “I am so sorry.”
“Sorry?” Hatcher snarled at her. “ Do you think that changes anything?”
“No, but I wish it could.”
He jabbed the cane crookedly down on the sidewalk, lost his balance, and lurched forward, swearing at himself as he tumbled into her. Mia grabbed his elbow to steady him, but he was a large man, and they both nearly fell.
“Hey!” Jake’s voice bellowed from ten feet away. “Back off, Hatcher. Now.” He strode forward with his jaw tight and a glint in his eyes. Pirate, ears pricked and tail high, matched his pace.
“It’s okay,” Mia called to Jake. “Mr. Hatcher’s cane slipped. That’s all.”
Jake halted a step away and looked her up and down. “You’re not hurt?”
“No. Definitely not.” Except her knees were wobbly, a sign of low blood sugar, no doubt exacerbated by her pounding heart.
Jake acknowledged her with a nod, then squared off with Mr. Hatcher. “Is there a problem here, Bill? Because I’m the one you should be talking to.”
Mr. Hatcher sneered at him. “You know the problem, Tanner. You’re bringing in a bad element.”
“I’m doing no such thing.”
“Oh yes, you are!”
Jake’s voice dropped to a growl. “Let’s keep this civil, Bill. You and I can disagree without shouting at each other or involving innocent bystand
ers like Ms. Robinson.”
Mia opened her mouth, intending to be a peacemaker, but Mr. Hatcher spoke first, glaring at her. “There’s no such thing as an innocent bystander in a democracy. Every citizen is called to participate.”
“I agree,” Jake replied. “But there are rules of engagement. I already offered to debate you. Why not take me up on it at the rally you’re holding? We’ll go head-to-head, with Marc Scott as moderator.”
A confident gleam burned in the older man’s eyes. “All right. We’ll do that.”
Jake held out his hand. “So is it a deal?”
“Agreed. But get ready, Tanner. I’m going to prove you wrong on every front.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
Hatcher gripped Jake’s hand and shook. Eyes locked, neither man let go for a solid three seconds. Mia didn’t know who loosened his fingers first, but she didn’t think it was Hatcher. He shifted his cane to his right hand, mumbled an apology for stumbling into her, then headed to a white pickup truck. An orange sticker with a stylized flame and the words Stop the Camp glared a warning from the rear window.
His eyes glued to Hatcher’s back, Jake ran a hand over Pirate’s head. “The sticker is new. We’ll probably see a lot of them.”
Mia’s stomach rumbled loudly enough for Pirate to turn and look at her.
So did Jake, who didn’t bother to hide an amused smile. “Even I heard that. How about lunch?”
“That sounds good. I’m starved.”
He paused to study her face. “You look a little shaky. Did Hatcher do that to you?”
“Not at all. It’s low blood sugar. I was on my way to grab a sandwich when he saw me looking at the poster. As soon as I eat, I’ll be fine.”
“Then let’s go.” He rested a protective hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the café. “Lunch is on me, and we’re getting it right now.”
Jake didn’t expect Mia to faint, but as they walked with Pirate toward the café entrance, he kept his hand in place just to be sure. Hatcher had no business pressuring her, especially when she was staying neutral—rightly so, in Jake’s opinion.
He held the door, ushered her inside with Pirate leading, and suggested a table in the back where the dog could stretch out and Jake wouldn’t have to work to hear over the buzz of the lunch crowd. An old friend from high school waved, but most of the people were strangers visiting Echo Falls for the weekend.
He and Mia ordered sandwiches and iced tea at the counter, then went to a table where he could sit with his back to the wall like he preferred. Mia added real sugar to her tea, took several swallows, then eased back in her chair. “That tastes good.”
“I hope Hatcher didn’t upset you too much.”
“Not at all.” She swirled the tea with her straw. “I actually feel sorry for him.”
Jake admired Mia’s compassion, but Hatcher could be a bully when it came to stopping Camp Connie. “Losing his home was a tragedy. That’s undeniable. But the Stop the Camp group isn’t looking at the facts.”
“No. It’s emotional for people like Bill.”
“Very much so.” For Jake too.
Mia took another long sip. “Living with the memories must be hard for him. Does he have any family?”
“Just a daughter. I think she’s in Miami.”
“I wonder why he didn’t move to be closer to her.”
“His business,” Jake replied. “He owns Precision Pumping and Backhoe. He’s been in Echo Falls as long as I can remember.”
Mia wrinkled her nose. “Pumping, as in—”
“Septic tanks.”
“Ewww.”
Jake grinned. “It’s a dirty job, but—”
“Somebody has to do it,” she finished. “Kind of like nursing at times.”
“Or being a cop.” Both noble professions that took a toll but made the world a safer place.
They chatted casually until the waitress brought their order. When she left, they both bit into their sandwiches. Mia chewed thoughtfully, then dabbed at her lips. “I can see why people enjoy living here. Echo Falls is a nice little town.”
“It was nicer before the Stop the Camp group started.”
Jake’s gaze skimmed to the window, where yet another orange poster announced the rally. The ugly things were everywhere, but he had friends too—including Mia. While she ate, he stole glances at her face. She seemed steadier now, and he couldn’t help but notice the pretty glow of her skin, the way she sipped her tea, the bread crumb on the corner of her mouth.
She swallowed a bite of her turkey sandwich. “Hatcher sure is serious about opposing the camp.”
“Irrational is more like it.”
“Or dedicated.”
“Irrational,” Jake repeated. “I plan to bring up small groups of kids for a week at a time. We’ll do some camping, hike, learn basic life skills, and play pinball. Those things helped Sam after Connie died, and they can help other kids in his shoes.”
“I can see the benefits. But I wonder . . .” Lips sealed, she shook her head. “I almost forgot. I’m staying neutral.”
Her questioning didn’t sit well at all. “You’re also a friend and someone I respect. What’s bothering you?”
She wrinkled her nose in that cute way that signaled he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “I hate to see the town ripped apart.”
“Me too.”
“All the time and money. The ill will.” She shuddered. “It seems like such a waste.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Jake ate another bite of his BLT. “I have big plans for the camp. First-class camping equipment, a couple of old sports cars to work on, kayaks for rafting. I have plenty of time on my hands, but no way am I spending a dime on bumper stickers.”
“How are you funding it?” Mia asked.
“Donations. Plus I have some savings. There’s no mortgage on the house, so I can take out a loan for capital improvements. This isn’t a full-time, year-round operation, so the overhead isn’t impossible. Plus I’ll keep the vending business going.”
Looking down, Mia continued to eat her meal. Jake did the same, though he barely tasted the food. Her opinion mattered to him. So what wasn’t she saying? Rather than pry it out of her, he slipped Pirate a piece of bacon. When the dog finished wolfing it down, Mia smiled but remained quiet.
Silence didn’t bother Jake at all, but dangling questions stirred up his cop instincts. Leaning back, he decided to do a little prying after all. “So what are you thinking?”
“More about Bill Hatcher.”
Not what Jake had hoped to hear. “What about him?”
“It’s not easy to get over a trauma like he experienced. You know that better than most people.”
He appreciated her directness, if not the reminder. “We all have stories to tell.” Jake didn’t consider himself unique in any way. Soldiers coming home from Iraq and Afghanistan, some with horrific injuries, endured far greater challenges than his.
“Yes, we do,” Mia agreed. “And we all react differently. Is there any way you could put Bill at ease?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried.”
He told her about the first newspaper notice regarding the zoning change, and how Hatcher called him on his parents’ house phone, irate but civil enough for Jake to invite him to lunch. “I tried to explain the plan to him—the activities, the calendar schedule, even the security system I’ll need to install for insurance purposes. Nothing appeased him.”
“He’s pretty hardcore,” Mia agreed. “And you can’t move the camp.” Her voice rose on the last word.
Was she asking him a question or agreeing with him? Jake couldn’t tell, but her ambivalence was an answer in itself. Mia doubted his choices, his dream, the cause that kept him from sliding back into dark places. “Move the camp? Absolutely not. This is my home too.”
“Yes. Of course.” She seemed more supportive now. “I just wish there was another way. Judging by the number of posters, he has a lot of s
upport.”
“So do I.”
“I’m sure you do. It’s just—” She made that wrinkle-nosed rabbit face again. “I worry about you.”
No man wanted a woman to worry about him. It implied he might fail. “Me?”
“Just a tiny bit.” She made a pinching motion with her thumb and forefinger. “You’ve put so much of yourself into starting the camp, and you’re in for a fight.”
“The camp is worth it.” The effort gave him a purpose, something to do with his time, an identity other than a retired, disabled, has-been cop. “Some things in life are worth fighting for. This is one of them.”
“But at what cost?”
“We’ll see. With a little luck, the hostility will blow over.”
Mia stayed silent, either out of respect for Sam’s loss, or because she didn’t want to argue anymore.
Jake wasn’t ready to let the debate go. “You know what it’s like to lose a parent. If you weren’t around, who would have taught Lucy to drive, or helped her open a bank account? No one. And that’s what a lot of boys experience when they lose a parent. Take Sam.” Jake’s pulse picked up. “When the transmission started slipping in his old Mustang, he didn’t know enough to check the fluid. He kept driving and destroyed the transmission.”
Mia winced. “Ouch.”
“He could afford to buy something new with his mom’s insurance money, but not all kids are that fortunate. The purpose of Camp Connie is to give teenage boys hands-on experience with real life. We’re going to have car clinics, driving lessons if I can swing the insurance, power-tool projects, and maybe shooting classes, but that’s another insurance nightmare.”
“You’re fighting a lot of battles.”
“Yes, I am. It’s worth it.”
She smiled that Mona Lisa smile he couldn’t read. “I think it’s an excellent plan, Jake. I just wonder—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“I was going to say it’s a lot to take on, especially with insurance and liability issues. But then I felt like a hypocrite for questioning you. Big plans take big faith. Those are the best kind.”
The Two of Us Page 10
