After the service, people clustered outside the church in small groups. In spite of her reluctance to return to Twin Falls, Clare was pleased to see Laura’s parents and family members again. She’d had many happy childhood memories with the Dundas family. When Gil came up to ask if she needed a ride to the Kingsways’, where the reception was being held, Clare was also grateful that she’d driven her rental car. His very presence seemed to strike a nerve.
Laura and Dave’s house was teeming with people when Clare walked in the front door. She placed her christening gift—a hand-smocked designer dress with matching sweater—onto the hall table along with the other presents and was making her way to the dining room where drinks were being served when Gil arrived.
His charcoal-gray designer suit seemed out of place in the small-town crowd but she had to admit, he was breathtakingly attractive in it. He gave a curt nod, clutching the handle of a gift bag. Clare could see the fluffy brown ears of a stuffed animal poking through the tissue paper. Her eyes connected briefly with his before she turned away and made for the dining room.
Dave was pouring mimosas from a tall crystal pitcher, assisted by a slightly older man who bore a striking resemblance to him. “Clare! Here, you must have one of these.” He handed her a champagne flute and tilted his head to the other man. “You remember my brother, Rick?”
Clare smiled and nodded. “Kind of. You were a couple of grades ahead of me at school.”
“That’s right,” he said. “I know your name because of your connection to Dave and Laura, but I have to admit I don’t recall too many kids from your year.” He chuckled, adding, “Well, except for Rina Thomas and I guess everyone knew her.”
Clare saw Dave give his brother a subtle nudge as he smiled nervously at someone behind her. She turned to see Gil standing in the doorway. The slight pulse at his jaw line—a sign of emotion held in check that Clare recalled all too well—told her immediately that he’d heard. He gave a polite but stiff nod as Dave introduced Rick.
“No, thanks,” he said to the offer of alcohol. “Coffee for me.” And without another word, headed for the kitchen.
Sensing that Dave was about to explain the faux pas to his brother and unwilling to be part of it, Clare smiled vaguely and, glass in hand, drifted into the living room. Laura shrieked a greeting from across the room.
“Clare!” She was with her older sister, Anne-Marie, whom Clare hadn’t seen since Laura’s wedding.
They hugged and made small talk for a moment before Anne-Marie asked, “How’s your book doing? I haven’t read it yet, but I brought my copy with me so don’t forget to sign it before we leave.”
“Sure,” Clare said. “You look great. Life in Greenwich must be agreeable.”
“A bit quiet, but it beats Twin Falls for action. I still don’t understand why Laura and Dave came back here. Do you like living in New York, Clare?”
“It’s great. Always something to do or see.”
“Did you know Gil Harper was there, too?” Without waiting for a reply, Anne-Marie ducked her head closer to Clare’s. “He’s even more to die for than he was as a teenager, isn’t he?” Then, realizing what she’d just said, added, “Sorry I wasn’t intending any bad pun there, believe me Clare.”
Obviously the past was never going to leave her alone, Clare was thinking, as she smiled mutely at Laura and her sister, who wasn’t taking the hint. “I know that sounds indiscreet, but the whole business has been resurrected anyway by the article in today’s paper.”
“What article?” Laura asked.
Jeff Withers’s flushed and eager face rose before Clare. I knew that was going to come back to haunt me. “The one I mentioned at dinner last night,” Clare said. “My interview with Jeff Withers.”
Laura blinked. “What did he write? Do you have the paper here?”
“No,” Anne-Marie said, “we left it in the motel. Don’t you get it delivered?”
“Not anymore, but get to the point—what did he write?”
Anne-Marie’s eyes flicked from Laura to Clare. “He was supposed to be interviewing you about your book, right?”
Clare nodded.
“But most of the article is a rehash about the Rina Thomas murder. He basically came right out and said that the whole story is right in your novel. Is that true?”
“Of course not! I’ve drawn on some of my experiences growing up here. Writers do that, you know. And there is a death in my novel, but an accidental one. The circumstances are very different,” she added.
Anne-Marie shrugged. “The article suggests there’s a parallel between your novel and what really happened. Withers plays up the notion that the death in your book may have been murder, too.”
“This is so frustrating,” Clare said. “What kind of journalist is he?”
“Clare, you need to read the article. He even mentioned your own connection to the Rina Thomas case. He implied you had inside information about the actual murder and used some of it in your book.”
Fighting to keep her voice even, Clare said, “That’s ridiculous!”
“I think it’s time to cut the cake and bring out the lunch stuff,” Laura cheerily interjected.
“I need to use the washroom,” Clare mumbled and charged blindly through the crowded living room and up the stairs.
Someone was already in the bathroom and Clare sagged against the wall outside, gulping in oxygen. The door opened and Gil Harper was suddenly standing next to her, his hand on her arm.
“Clare? What’s wrong? You look upset.”
She closed her eyes. Of all the luck.
“Please don’t say nothing is wrong,” he went on. “I’ve a lot of weaknesses, but stupidity isn’t one of them.”
That drew a faint smile. “No, stupidity was never one.” She hesitated, then admitted, “Just something Laura’s sister said. About that damn newspaper interview.”
His brow furled for an instant, then cleared. “Ah, yes. You were talking about it last night. What did the guy do? Trash your book?”
“If only. I could have handled that. No, he…uh, he tried to link my plot to Rina Thomas’s murder.” Her eyes shifted briefly to the framed print on the opposite wall. He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn’t respond. But to his credit, he didn’t evade the issue now that it was out in the open.
“But aren’t the story lines somewhat similar?”
It was a fair question from Gil, someone briefly connected to the murder, and he deserved frankness. “When I wrote the novel,” she began, “my intention was to tell a story about growing up in a small town. I lived in the South for a few years after graduation and grew to love the people and their generous hospitality. That’s the reason I set the novel in the South.”
“What were you doing down there?”
“Teaching in a four-room country school.” She smiled, thinking how naive and inexperienced she’d been.
“Quite a challenge,” he said. “How long were you there?”
“Four years. Then I went back home to New Jersey for a bit and did some substitute teaching while I took postgrad courses to get my masters.”
“A masters in English lit, I bet.”
She nodded. “That’s when I started writing. I was inspired by what I was learning, I suppose.” Though she knew otherwise. More like inspired by demons that wouldn’t leave me alone.
One of the guests appeared on the landing, searching for the bathroom. Gil clasped Clare’s elbow and pulled her aside. “Can we politely make our excuses, do you think, and leave the party early? I’d like to talk to you some more about what you’ve been doing with your life.”
She hesitated only for a fraction of a second. There was the risk of delving into the past with Gil, she realized, but at the same time she was enjoying talking to him. “All right. Laura said they’d decided against speeches or anything formal. There’ll be a toast to Emma and as godparents, we’ll have to be present for that. And she’ll be upset if we don’t have any of the lunch.
”
“True. How about if I meet you outside on the front porch after the toast and a bite to eat?”
“Okay. I’ll look for you there.”
He nodded, turned and headed back down the stairs. Clare stared at his retreating back. What had she just gotten herself into?
The bathroom door opened again and Clare, smiling at the woman exiting, took her turn. By the time she’d refreshed and was back downstairs, people were congregating in the dining room around the table, now laden with food.
Dave stood at the entrance to the dining room with Laura and Emma beside him. Gil was off to the side. When Dave spotted Clare, he addressed the guests. “Does everyone have a glass of something for a toast? Laura and I want to thank all of you for coming to share this very special day with us. It’s even more special with the presence of family and old friends.” He smiled directly at Clare and Gil. Then, raising his wineglass, he said, “Join us in wishing Emma a healthy, safe and long life.”
Everyone raised their glasses and said, “To Emma.”
Dave raised his glass a second time. “And to our dear friends—Clare Morgan and Gil Harper—Emma’s godparents. Thank you both and God bless.”
Clare felt her face heat up as all eyes turned her way. As soon as the toast was finished, she set her wineglass down and, paper plate in hand, picked a couple of morsels from the buffet table. Then she moved toward Laura, who was passing Emma to her mother.
“Do you mind if I leave early, Laura? I’ve a headache coming on and Gil suggested a walk to get some fresh air.”
“Are you upset because of what Anne-Marie said? ’Cause I’m sorry, Clare. You know how she is. She didn’t mean any harm.”
“No, no. I know Anne-Marie too well to take her the wrong way. But I have the signing tomorrow in Hartford and I’m still a bit tired from the one yesterday.” Her voice trailed off. Laura was too smart to be fooled by such lame excuses but she didn’t say anything. Clare popped an olive into her mouth.
“Can you come by for breakfast in the morning, before you leave?”
“Actually Lisa Stuart—remember her, senior English class?—called and invited me to speak to one of her classes in the morning.” Clare munched on a red pepper strip and scanned the room for Gil. Had he already left?
Laura’s face cleared. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Those kids would love to see and hear a real live author, especially one from here.”
Clare ignored a tug of guilt, knowing she’d made the decision to visit the class only at that moment. “I was honored to be asked,” she said. “How about if I call you tonight?” She set her paper plate down on the hall table and headed for the front door, Laura at her heels.
“Want to come for dinner tonight?” Laura asked. “We’re just ordering in and my parents will be here, but at least we could have a bit of a chat.”
Guilt won out. “Perhaps. I’ll call you later this afternoon.”
“Okay. And…have a nice walk with Gil,” Laura said.
Clare saw the curiosity in her friend’s face and would have explained the situation but a quick glance through the glass-paned door behind her registered Gil, waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. “Talk to you later,” she said and walked out onto the porch.
CHAPTER FOUR
HE DIDN’T SAY a word until they reached the end of the sidewalk. “My car or yours?”
Clare hesitated. “Maybe we should just forget about this.”
Gil sent her a look—a challenge. “Is that really what you want?” He didn’t pause long enough for a reply. “How about meeting in the park across from town hall? We’d still be taking a walk, getting fresh air and no one has to feel bad about skipping out on the christening reception.”
“We were there for the important part,” she added.
“Definitely,” he said. “I’ll see you at John Calvin’s statue in about ten minutes?”
He walked to his car before she could change her mind again and call a halt to the plan. Clare muttered to herself during the short drive to the park, wondering why she’d agreed to his suggestion. There were plenty of parking spaces around Riverside Park although several families were taking advantage of the balmy day to visit the town’s scenic center. She quickly spotted Gil, lounging against the statue of the town’s founder.
“Looks like we weren’t the only ones thinking of the park today,” he commented as she approached.
Clare nodded. “The children’s play area over there must be a draw,” she said. “Too bad we didn’t have anything like that when we were kids.”
“We hung out at the school playground then. Remember?”
She did. They’d attended one of two elementary schools in town and the whole class had moved to Twin Falls High afterward. There’d been no escape from any of her classmates, Clare remembered. No place else to go, except out of town. Some students, mostly those in a higher economic bracket, had gone to various private schools in or near Hartford.
“Shall we take the river trail?” Gil asked.
“Sure,” she said, knowing how indifferent she sounded but not really caring.
He led the way to the strip of asphalt running along the top of the riverbank. “I think I liked this trail better when it was just gravel,” Gil commented. “It seemed more natural. This makes me feel like I’m in one of those theme parks.”
Clare smiled to herself. She bet Gil had never stepped foot in a theme park. “I think it would take more than an asphalt walkway to qualify.”
“I guess it’s my age showing—I hate seeing so many changes.”
“But a lot of the changes in town look to be good ones,” she said. “They show growth and economic stability.”
“True enough. I remember a time when I was a kid that my folks seemed real worried about making a go of it here. Especially after the lumber mill closed down.”
She’d forgotten about that. By then, her parents had divorced and her mother was working at the bank. “I don’t remember where your father ended up after the mill closed.”
“He took some computer courses at night school in Hartford and eventually managed to get a job in the administration department at town hall. He stayed there ’til retirement.”
“When was that?”
“Five years ago. He was seventy when he had his stroke.”
“I always liked your father.”
They walked in silence a few more yards until Gil said, a bit gruffly, “Yeah, and he always liked you, too.” He motioned to a bench ahead. “Want to sit for a minute?”
She hesitated, sensing the stop might lead to more reminiscing and she wasn’t sure she wanted that to happen. But she was reluctant to decline, especially right after talking about his father. Plus, she and Gil had been friends—more than friends—long ago.
“Sure,” she said and sank onto the wooden seat. A line of trees were strung along the other side of the trail and through them, she could make out the wooden footbridge spanning the river and the steep embankment leading up from it. Her eyes moved up to its high point. “I see there’s a guardrail over there, too.”
Her gaze shifted slightly to the left and she noticed the distant rooftop of Twin Falls High. She bit down on her tongue as she realized what she was looking at. They were sitting directly across the river from the place where Rina Thomas’s body had been found.
Gil noticed where she was looking and, after a moment, said, “I imagine they put it up after Rina died. Maybe to discourage kids from using the shortcut.”
She turned his way but he was still staring at the opposite side of the river. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low she could hardly hear. “It’s taken me a while to be able to refer to Rina with equanimity, but I’ve managed to put the whole thing behind me.” His eyes fixed on hers. “And I suggest you try to do the same, Clare. Otherwise, comments like the ones we both heard today will always bother you.”
Blood rushed to her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was upset because…bec
ause some people have focused on a single aspect of my book.”
“Maybe your reaction shows that you’re unsure about your intentions in writing the book. Not that I’m saying you purposely set out to produce a tell-all kind of book. But I do know that the Clare Morgan I remember had a tougher shell than the one I saw today at the christening.”
Clare leaped to her feet. “You amaze me, you really do. I mean, we haven’t seen or spoken for seventeen years and you have the nerve to think you still know me. It’s almost laughable.” She folded her arms across her chest and stepped away from the bench, keeping her eyes on the view ahead. She heard him get up and for a tense instant, thought he was going to move closer and place a hand on her shoulder. But he didn’t. She spun around.
“In fact,” she went on, “you don’t know me any better now than you did then.” She forced her eyes on his, challenging his set, impassive expression to reveal some emotion. Any emotion. But his gaze, coolly resting on her flushed face for no more than a second, shifted to some distant point beyond her.
“You’re right about that, Clare. I thought I knew you then, but I was wrong.” He moved farther away from where she was standing. “Good luck with your signing in Hartford tomorrow and…all the best with your book tour.” He turned his back on her and walked steadfastly toward the center of the park.
She watched him go until she accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to change his mind and turn around. Slowly, her heart rate slowed to normal and the pounding in her head decelerated to a faint pulsing.
Clare picked up her purse from the bench and headed for her car on the far side of the park. When she passed John Calvin’s statue, she noticed the small bench to its right and a rush of memory overwhelmed her. It was the exact spot where she and Gil had parted company two nights after Rina Thomas was killed. The irony didn’t escape her. But it did fill her with a surge of sadness that she knew only time and distance from Twin Falls would vanquish.
Past, Present and a Future (Going Back) Page 5
