by Nicole Baart
But this was for Adri, Harper reminded herself with a jolt of conscience. She was orchestrating a meeting—maybe more?—for the girl who melted a little at the sound of his name. Harper sucked a breath of air, got hold of herself, then leaned in further still and whispered in David’s ear: “Follow me.”
He did. Close behind, his hand hovering just shy of the small of her back. Anyone who watched them would assume they were a couple, even though David never touched her. It was the simplest of ruses, but Harper guessed it would be effective enough to sprinkle the first few rumors around campus that David Galloway was taken. And by Harper Penny. She already knew that no one would mess with her.
The rest was simple. They talked like old friends, and in many ways they were. Kindred spirits at least, the kind of people set apart by looks and personality and the fickle hand of fate that had planted them in circumstances that forced them to grow differently than everyone else. They were orchids in a sea of daisies, and not at all afraid to admit it.
In the beginning, Harper wondered if David kept coming around in spite of Adri, Will, and Jackson rather than because of them. But affection is sometimes a slow boil, and by the time she nicknamed their little group The Five, she believed that David was as invested as she was. They were, against all odds, friends.
And Harper loved it all.
Her people. Maple Acres. The way that she felt for the first time in her life like she belonged inside her own skin.
Piperhall. Especially Piperhall. Harper never wanted to leave.
Once, a couple of years after they became friends, Harper had almost told David as much. “I love it here,” she whispered. It was a Sunday night and they should have been heading back to campus, but it wasn’t far and they couldn’t tear themselves away from the stars. They had gone riding that afternoon, even Harper, and after the horses had been brushed and put to pasture, they wandered the grounds because the reality of the week ahead felt like too much to bear. Will and Adri were arguing about something in the sort of fond, sibling way that made Harper long for a brother, and Jackson was hand in hand with Nora, a new girlfriend who didn’t quite fit. Harper couldn’t help resenting her. When Nora was around, they were quick to pair up, but when it was just the five of them, they were a unit. A fist clenched tight.
Harper walked beside David, the others a few steps ahead as they wandered toward the orchard and the last of the autumn apples. Adri had gotten it in her head to make a pie. As if Adri had time to bake anything.
“Everyone loves it here,” David responded belatedly. He sounded bored, and Harper jerked her head to study his profile in the moonlight. She hadn’t realized that he had heard her quiet reflection. “You really should stick around some summer instead of going back east to work in that coffee shop. You could come to the Piperhall summer picnic and watch the gawkers. It’s quite entertaining.”
“I thought your mother stopped doing that.”
“I’d reinvent it for you.” David had a way of making Harper feel like she was the only person in the world during those rare moments. She slowed a bit to let the others pull even farther ahead, and stared up at the man she pretended not to love. Harper knew her charade was thin, but it didn’t seem to matter much. Everyone loved David. Or envied him, longed to be with him, longed to be him. He was inescapable.
“How generous of you.” Harper couldn’t smooth the lust from her voice, and she sounded warm and inviting, even in her own ears. “But I’m afraid if I stay, I may never leave.”
David stopped and turned to her. They were close, closer than Harper had realized as they walked shoulder to shoulder in the near-dark. Because everyone else was ahead of them, and because of the gauzy veil of twilight, it felt for a moment like they were utterly alone. Harper had held David at bay, had pressed him away by the predictable standard of her own flirtatiousness. How was he, or anyone, to know where she had pinned her heart? Harper liked it that way. But as he stood over her, his head inclined as if he might bend a little more and kiss her, she found herself faint with desire.
“Never leave?” David repeated. And then he did the impossible. He lifted a finger and traced a line from the arch of her forehead over her upturned nose and stopped against the fullness of her lips. He parted them slightly.
Harper tried not to gasp when David leaned in a little, his fingertip still against her mouth. But he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he brushed past her mouth and whispered in her ear, “I guess I’d have to redo the servants’ quarters, wouldn’t I?”
It was exactly the sort of thing David would say, and Harper should have expected as much. But his words stabbed all the same. Harper might have fallen to pieces, but she wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Steeling herself against the ache in her chest, she laughed and tickled his ear with her whisper, “I’d own the place in a year, Mr. Galloway. They’d have to call it Harperhall.”
David either didn’t realize that he had hurt her or didn’t care.
Suddenly Harper was aware of Adri’s eyes on her. She had been silent, lost in her own thoughts for far too long. “Piperhall is gorgeous,” she managed. “It always has been.”
“It’s mine,” Adri said.
Harper’s throat squeezed shut. “What?” Realizing that she probably sounded like she was jealous or upset or worse, she swallowed and tried again. “Victoria left you the estate?”
“Yup. I’m the executor of her will and the new owner of the Galloway mansion. Lock, stock, and barrel.”
“Well”—Harper forced herself to smile—“Victoria loved you very much.”
Adri snorted. “I don’t think she would have said that, exactly. But I would have been her only family, had David and I married. Based on what I’ve learned about her these last few days, that meant something to her.”
“Of course it did.”
“If Victoria had known what I did to David, that I was responsible for her son’s death, I don’t think she would have left all of this to me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Harper grabbed Adri’s hand and held it tight. “It was an accident.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing,” Harper interrupted. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. If I recall correctly, and I do, the backpacking trip was my idea. I booked the flights and I convinced everyone to go.”
“Yes, but—”
“I talked him into cliff jumping.”
It was all too much and too soon. A reminder of what had happened and how. Of blood in the water and his vacant, unseeing eyes. Adri and Harper were standing beneath the shadow of the Galloway mansion, but suddenly they could both smell the earthy, elemental tang of mountain and river and rain forest. Adri’s hand trembled in Harper’s tight grip.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Harper whispered. It was a black hole. It was just the beginning. She couldn’t stand the thought of tipping over the edge and into the bottomless void.
“I do want to talk about this. You’re the only person I can talk to.” Adri sounded desperate. “Please, Harper, let me talk about this . . .”
The sound of an engine on the long drive to the mansion made them both look up, and within seconds a truck came into view.
“Will,” Adri said, sounding defeated.
They watched as he pulled up next to Betty and cut the engine. He emerged wearing a pair of jeans and a heather-gray T-shirt that hugged his chest appealingly. When he caught sight of the girls between the arches of the loggia he gave a cheerful wave. Harper waved back.
“Hey!” Will called. He stood for a moment beneath them, hands on his hips. “I feel like I should quote something. Isn’t there a balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet? ‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?’ ”
“There’s no window,” Adri said. “And no light.” She was right. The sun had sunk behind a bank of thick clouds and the world was filled with the slanting
shadows of an early dusk. Adri rubbed her face with her hands for a moment, and then turned to Harper. “We’re not finished,” she whispered, only for Harper’s ears.
“I know,” Harper said.
And then Will was taking the steps two at a time, apparently eager to reach them. When he got to the top of the stairs, he jogged the last few feet and caught Harper in one arm and Adri in the other. Pulling them close, he said, “It’s good to hug my girls again. Are you both really here?”
He sounded so happy, Harper couldn’t help but grin. She let her head fall onto his chest, but when she caught sight of Adri’s grim look, she straightened up and backed away.
“I suppose we are,” Harper said. “Though I can’t imagine why you seem so delighted. We were nothing but trouble.”
“You were nothing but trouble,” Will assured her. He still had Adri under one arm and couldn’t see the serious furrow in her brow. “Adri here has always been a good girl. Haven’t you, Adrienne?”
She extricated herself from his one-armed embrace and stood back to give him a halfhearted smile. It was a weak attempt, and Harper could see that Will finally felt the tension between them.
“Sorry,” he said, looking between Harper and Adri. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You’re not,” Adri assured him. She didn’t sound very convinced. “How did you find us?”
“I went to the farm, and when you weren’t there, I guessed.” Will shrugged. “It’s not like there are a million places you could be.”
“Harper and I are just catching up,” Adri said.
“That’s what I was hoping to do.” Will ducked his head almost shyly. “I thought maybe I could talk you ladies into a ride.”
“A ride?” Harper honestly had no idea what he was talking about.
“On horseback?” Will’s smirk was good-natured. “Remember when we used to do that?”
Harper laughed. “Oh, no. No way. I haven’t been on a horse in more years than I care to count. And I didn’t particularly like it when I did ride.”
“You’re joking.” Will seemed genuinely surprised. “We used to love riding together.”
“I tolerated it,” Harper admitted.
“I guess you were a good actor.” Will said, smiling but clearly disappointed.
“I’m tired,” Adri said finally. “I’m going to head back to the farm.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of Maple Acres, and fixed Harper with a look that indicated she hoped Harper would follow. But Harper didn’t want to continue the conversation they had begun, so she pretended not to notice.
“No to the ride,” she told Will. “But I’d love to take a walk. You up for it?”
“Sounds great.” Will smiled. “Sure you don’t want to join us, Adri?”
“Yes.” She was already on her way to the stairs. “Have fun,” she called over her shoulder, but her voice caught at the end.
Harper and Will headed down the estate drive, following the dissipating cloud of dust that Adri kicked up on her departure. The old riding trail seemed like the most obvious choice for their path, and Harper was glad that she had changed into a pair of jeans in the car between Fairfield and Blackhawk and slid her feet into the Chucks. She wasn’t wearing socks, but the shoes were soft and worn and she didn’t think it would be a problem. The warm sweater Adri had loaned her would be perfect for an early-evening hike.
Will didn’t appear anxious to break the ice or start in on the catching up that brought him to the estate in the first place. Harper didn’t care. She was content to walk and listen to the rustle of the breeze lifting dry leaves from a million crooked branches.
It struck Harper as they walked that she had rarely, if ever, been alone with Will. There had never been time or reason to. Of course, they had all suffered their fair share of crushes on one another, and friendships blossomed and deepened, then paled and ran shallow as the seasons of their college days changed. When Adri was busy with classes, it was easy for Harper to spend more time with the guys, especially David. And while Jackson was the ubiquitous calm of the group, the tranquil center, Will was fun-loving and perpetually ready for anything. It always seemed that there was someone around to match her mood. But Harper had sometimes avoided Will, because she felt that he watched her just a little too intently. Every once in a while she caught a longing in his gaze that made her feel breathless and almost timid. But he was Will. Her best friend’s brother. The russet-haired boy-next-door who didn’t make her fingertips tingle the way David always did.
And Will was unsettled. He played basketball for a year, then soccer the following. He quit both. Halfway through his freshman year he changed his major from business to preveterinary. Halfway through his sophomore year he changed it back. When he finally graduated, it was with an agribusiness degree, something that he assured her married his two loves, but she didn’t really understand what he hoped to do with his diploma. Take over his dad’s dairy, she supposed.
Apparently even that wasn’t quite right. Adri had told Harper that Will wasn’t a farmer. He was a general contractor who built beautiful homes and remodeled old ones. Though Harper couldn’t claim to know him anymore, the idea that Will spent his time building things and fixing things felt right to Harper. She told him so.
“Thanks,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance. “I’m assuming that was a compliment.”
Harper laughed. “A bad one, but yes. It feels right somehow that you’re doing what you’re doing.”
“Brothers Construction has been a good fit,” he agreed. “Jackson and I make a good team. He’s the brains, I’m the brawn. Or something like that.”
“Brothers?”
“Come on, Harper.” Will bumped her with his elbow. “Jackson and I are practically twins. And besides, weren’t we all a bunch of rowdy siblings back in college?”
“Something like that,” she said, borrowing his phrase.
“Jackson and I are like you and Adri.”
Harper didn’t bother correcting his use of the present tense. She and Adri were about as far apart as two people could possibly be. And while it seemed like Adri wanted to change that, to dredge up past events and uncover the truth behind the lives they now led, Harper was eager to hold her old friend at a safe distance. There was simply too much at stake. So she said, “What about David? Where did he fit into the mix?”
The second the pair of questions were out of her mouth, she realized that she never should have uttered them at all. A pall fell over the path before them, and though it was likely only the dimming shadows of the now ominous clouds, the woods suddenly felt haunted.
Where had David fit? He hadn’t. It was as simple as that.
“So,” Will said, trying to steer the conversation back onto more solid ground. “What have you been up to these days?”
Harper gave him the same story that she had told Adri—a string of jobs, a crap apartment, nothing to write home about—but her mind was elsewhere. It was on David and where he had fit. How he had played into the five points of the star that had been their impossible, entwined group.
“Are you okay?”
Harper had stopped on the trail and when she blinked and realized that Will was before her, she almost burst into tears. But she stood her ground, screamed silently at the David in her mind. At the stupid, careless, wicked girl she had been.
“I’m fine,” Harper said. But she didn’t sound fine.
Will took a step for her. Reached for her hand. “I turned around and you were gone,” he said. “I thought I lost you.”
Harper smiled, but her heart wrenched. You never had me. She thought. No one has ever had me.
20
Three days later, the entire vogt household was ripped from sleep when the telephone rang at 3:20 in the morning. The house was small, the insulation poor, and when the shrill chime spl
it the night, harper sat up straight in bed as if she had been shot. A second ring, and then the sound of footsteps on the floorboards, a door being yanked open. Adri seemed to take the stairs much too swiftly for someone who had been so rudely woken, and if harper could trust the voices that filtered from the kitchen, sam had been roused, too.
It wasn’t her home, but the adrenaline buzz of an anticipated emergency was already humming beneath Harper’s skin. The last couple of days had been a careful balancing act, an intricate game of memory that required her to keep her story straight. If that wasn’t hard enough, everything was complicated by another, even more labyrinthine set of related riddles demanding every last shred of her energy and concentration: What was she supposed to do with Adri? Will? David? Sawyer? Harper had run to Adri when she called, but now she battled the urge to run away. If only she had somewhere to go. But even if Harper had other options, she didn’t know if she would be able to leave the woman she had thought about day and night for the past five years.
Because she was awake, and because she was already high-strung and predisposed to fear the worst, Harper pulled a sweater over the T-shirt that she had been sleeping in and yanked on a pair of jeans. She crept down the stairs on bare feet, and paused a few steps from the bottom so she could listen to the conversation in the kitchen.
“No one was there?” Sam asked. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Breathing, I think. And then they hung up.” There was a note of exhaustion in Adri’s voice. Or maybe frustration. “It was probably Caleb. It’s hard to get the timing of calls right.”
“Are you going to call him back?”
“No. He’ll try again if he needs me.”
“So you’ll wait up?”
“I’m up now, Dad. Could you go back to sleep?”
He chuckled. “Sweetie, my alarm is about to go off. Well, almost.”
