by Amy Woods
When the observatory board had offered it to Lucy in her dad’s place, she had done the best she could with what she had to make it her own, adding pretty curtains and paint, and now she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. There were things, though, that she would have to address sooner rather than later. Like the aging boards of Shiloh’s wheelchair ramp. Tessa’s brother, Andy, had built the ramp shortly after the accident, with more heart than skill, and Lucy didn’t have it in her to tell Andy about its increasingly decrepit state; she’d made Tess promise to keep mum about it as well, despite her friend’s protest. It was Lucy’s responsibility. She’d made a few calls to find a carpenter, but the quotes offered had all been too expensive.
There always seemed to be something pressing on her time though, and right now that thing was Shiloh’s sudden burning desire to try out for the Peach Leaf Junior High basketball team, which terrified and thrilled Lucy in equal parts.
She stopped at the bottom of the stone steps leading to the front porch and bent to lift her niece out of the chair. It was a routine they’d grown used to in the absence of a functioning ramp, but which lately had begun to embarrass Shiloh. And Lucy had to admit that it wouldn’t be long before her little girl would grow into a young woman, with a need for more independence, and there wouldn’t always be someone to carry her inside if she got home and Lucy wasn’t there.
“All right, sweet girl. Let’s try to get that homework out of the way before dinner.”
Shiloh groaned in the melodramatic way that only preteens and teens could master. Lucy just shook her head. Shiloh would complain the whole time, but she would do her homework, and for that, Lucy was thankful. She didn’t know what she would do if she’d been responsible for a wild child like Jennifer. Shiloh had her faults like any other person, and she certainly knew how to put up a fuss, but thank the stars, she was a good kid. Her mother had always struggled with the idea of being responsible for a child, and Jennifer had never opened up to Lucy about who the father was. It was a detail—like so many others—that Jennifer had chosen not to share with her sister. Much to Lucy’s disappointment, the two of them hadn’t got along past middle school, and when Jennifer left for college and dropped out halfway through her freshman year, no one in town had been surprised. Lucy was the only one who’d ever believed Jennifer was capable of much more, but now those hopes and dreams belonged to Shiloh.
They went inside and Shiloh headed toward the living room. Before she even heard the TV click on, Lucy reminded Shiloh that she had to finish her homework first before she could watch television.
“I wasn’t going to watch TV,” Shiloh shouted, but Lucy wasn’t buying it.
“Don’t lie to me, kiddo,” Lucy said, and Shiloh let out a dramatic sigh.
“All right,” she yelled back, returning to the kitchen where Lucy was standing in front of the refrigerator, trying to decide what to make for dinner. It was a daily battle to figure out what to feed the two of them every evening, and Lucy knew she should erase the overused Peach Leaf Pizza number from her speed dial. They were a few miles out of town, but it was hard to resist ordering something quick when she’d had a long day at work.
She mulled over the sad-looking contents of the freezer, ticking off an ambitious grocery list in her head, and suddenly thought of Sam. How awesome would it be to have someone like him living in her home?
Lucy looked up at the ceiling, remembering the incredible taste of the sandwiches he’d whipped up at the last minute. She was surrounded on a daily basis by men with genius IQs, but she doubted a single one of them could make a meal like the one she’d had for lunch. What kind of man knew how to cook that way, and also looked like that? If Sam turned out to also be a decent guy, Lucy would have to stick him to see if real blood ran through his veins.
She closed the fridge and tried the pantry instead, sighing to herself. She had no business thinking about Sam Haynes, mystery man, who currently occupied her office at the museum. She shook her head. How stupid it had been of her to allow Tessa to offer him her office couch for the night when he found out the B and B wouldn’t have his room available until the next morning. Tessa thought it probably had something to do with Mrs. Frederickson’s increasingly unreliable memory. The sweet elderly woman had recently begun leaving her home in little more than her underwear, and her neighbors had got used to quietly returning her home. But truth be told, Lucy was sort of relieved—she’d been more than a little worried that if Sam left the grounds, he wouldn’t come back, on account of the craziness he’d walked into at the kitchen earlier.
After Sam had parted from her and Shiloh to head back to his truck, Lucy had called Tessa to see if Sam had left. Tessa said he’d returned to the front desk and told her the situation, and Tess had listened in as he’d made call after call on his cell to other B and Bs and inns in town, and not a single one of them had an available room—not really surprising for spring in Peach Leaf. She’d asked Tessa for advice on what to do and her friend had suggested that Lucy offer him the extra room in her house.
Not a chance.
Aside from her lapse in judgment that day, she wasn’t stupid, and she had a child to look after. After all, Sam had popped into town out of the blue, and so far had not really adequately explained his reason for doing so, which Lucy made a mental note to force from him tomorrow.
So her office had seemed like the only choice until the room he booked was ready. He’d grabbed his bag and taken a quick shower in the staff locker room, and was ready to call it a night. There was a cozy old plaid couch in Lucy’s office, left over from the nights her father had spent there when he’d been neck-deep in his research, or, as Lucy had suspected in later years, when he and her mother had been unable to remain in the same house.
Shiloh turned the corner and joined Lucy in the kitchen.
“Nothing good to eat, huh, Aunt Lu?”
Lucy turned to Shiloh. “Are you surprised?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m sorry, love. You know I hate making this decision every day.”
“And I hate that no matter what you pick, I always have to eat vegetables and you don’t.”
“That is so not true! I eat vegetables...sometimes.”
Shiloh stared at Lucy as her aunt’s blatant lie hovered in the air.
“Once a week. Okay. Once a month,” Lucy admitted. “I eat vegetables at least once a month. Besides, I drink plenty of V8 and I take multivitamins.”
“Ha. That’s more like it,” Shiloh blurted out, pointing an accusatory finger. “I’m surprised you don’t have scurvy.”
They both burst into giggles and Thor rushed over to see what in the world had got into them, before they settled back down. In the quiet moment that followed, Lucy noticed Shiloh nibbling on her nails—a habit she shared with Jennifer, and which made Lucy’s skin crawl, thinking about the insane amount of germs Shiloh was absentmindedly shoveling into her mouth.
“Stop, honey. That’s gross,” Lucy said, swatting at Shiloh’s hand. “What’s bothering you anyway? Did something happen at school?”
Shiloh took her nail out of her mouth.
“Well, yeah, Aunt Lu. Lots of things happened at school.”
“Come on, Shi, you know what I mean. What’s wrong?”
Shiloh hesitated before speaking, and Lucy tried not to dwell on the idea that her niece might be deciding what she should and should not reveal to her aunt, but Lucy forced herself not to push too hard. Experience had shown that Shiloh would be more open if Lucy didn’t press her, and she desperately wanted to know if something was bothering the girl.
“Nothing, really. It’s just that there’s this thing coming up, and I’m trying to figure out if I should go or not,” Shiloh said, studying a ragged fingernail.
“What kind of thing?” Lucy asked, treading lightly. She had a feeling she knew what was coming, and she wasn’t sure what help she was possibly qualified to offer.
She drew in a steadying breath. Lucy w
ould not project her own past, her own experiences, on Shiloh. She wouldn’t.
“It’s a dance, isn’t it?” Lucy asked, hoping she’d injected enough positivity into her tone for her niece not to notice the true sentiment underneath her words. But Shiloh’s face fell, and Lucy knew she’d failed.
“I know it’s not something you care about,” Shiloh said, scratching at an invisible spot on her jeans, not meeting Lucy’s eyes. The girl picked up on her aunt’s emotions as if she could sense them. So much like her mother.
Lucy and Jennifer had been close once, as kids. Jennifer, one year her sister’s senior, had let Lucy climb into her bed on rare stormy nights when they were both little and told her stories. She would drag Lucy away from her books when Jennifer claimed the reading had gone on long enough. They’d blasted music and she’d forced Lucy to dance with her until they both collapsed to the floor from laughter and exhaustion. She’d brought out another part of Lucy—the one that wasn’t afraid of what other people thought. With Jennifer by her side, she’d forgotten her biggest fears. The pressure from her dad to get perfect grades, countered by her mother’s insistence that she get contacts, change her hair and get out more, so she could be more popular.
Like Jennifer.
Lucy had sworn—since that day Jennifer had shown up on the porch where they’d grown up, tiny wriggling bundle in her arms, to say that she was sorry but she just couldn’t do it—that Shiloh would never feel compelled to be anyone other than herself.
Guilt balled up in her stomach, thinking back to the conversation she’d had with her niece earlier about the math quiz, and Lucy made a mental note to leave well enough alone next time. Shiloh was passing all of her classes, and maybe that should be enough. Parenting was just a challenge—a constant series of actions, results and reassessment for the next time. Just like her work, in many ways, but with infinitely higher stakes.
“If it’s something you care about, then I care about it, too,” Lucy said, measuring her words carefully.
Shiloh looked down again and scratched under Thor’s chin. The dog’s eyes closed and Lucy smiled at his un-self-conscious adoration. If only she could find a guy as loyal and loving as their four-legged man of the house.
Lucy pulled cereal out of the pantry, along with two bowls and spoons, and set everything on the table. She would cook a real dinner, complete with meat, healthy carbs, and yes, the obligatory vegetable.
Tomorrow.
Shiloh didn’t say anything about the meal. They both knew how to pick their battles.
“So,” Lucy said, as casually as she could muster, “what’s bothering you about the dance, then?”
Shiloh raised her eyes to meet Lucy’s, and then moved to the table. Lucy poured milk for her niece and joined her to eat. Shiloh took a bite and chewed for a long moment, a mix of emotions battling in her eyes.
“I’m not sure if I should go or not.”
Lucy didn’t respond, only nodded and took a bite of her own cereal.
She swallowed. “Well, do you want to go or not?” she asked, hoping she’d successfully masked the apprehension she felt.
“Yeah. I think so,” Shiloh said slowly, drawing out the words as if working to finalize her decision. “Yeah, I do.” Her answer was firmer this time, and her eyes flashed with barely guarded excitement. She took a bite of cereal, covering her budding smile.
“Then what’s the problem? If you want to go...then, go.”
Shiloh put down the spoon and swallowed, her expression completely flat, the joy from only seconds ago mysteriously vanished.
Lucy knew that look, and she knew instinctively that she was at fault for putting it there, though she couldn’t say how. She quickly retraced her steps, coming up blank, and looked helplessly at her niece. Shiloh only shook her head with exasperation.
“God, Aunt Lu,” she said through clenched teeth. “You’re so dense sometimes, it’s unbelievable.”
“It was a simple question,” Lucy said, putting down her spoon as her temper rose. She hated feeling so adrift and out of control amidst the tossing sea of Shiloh’s preteen emotions.
“It’s not simple at all, and you know it.” Shiloh was on the verge of shouting now, and Lucy fought to keep from matching her volume.
“Shiloh, hon’,” Lucy begged, eyes closed to calm herself. “Just tell me what’s bugging you and we’ll talk about it.”
Shiloh’s lips tightened into a thin line and she pushed her wheelchair back from the table. “Never mind,” she grumbled, heading down the hallway to her room.
Just like that, Lucy had lost her again, her niece’s approval as elusive and unpredictable as Texas rain. She’d learned a long time ago that it was best to wait to follow Shiloh, who needed time alone to cool off when she got upset. Later, Lucy would knock on the door and make sure homework had been done, teeth brushed, that her niece wasn’t hungry and that she got into bed safely.
Lucy concentrated on what she understood and could control—scrubbing the dishes and opening the stack of mail she’d neglected for several days. As she flipped mindlessly through a catalog, she stopped on a page advertising men’s shirts. She ran a finger along the sleeves in one of the pictures, imagining what it would be like to have a partner in all of this—someone to talk to and bounce ideas off when she couldn’t figure out how to solve a problem—someone to carry a share of the burden alongside her.
There had been a time when she’d believed that such a man might exist, and she’d even given two years of her life to Jeremy, convinced he was that man. In the aftermath, when she realized what a colossal mistake she had made, she’d given up the notion that such dreams would ever be a reality for her. She’d dated a few times since then, mostly when Tessa or other well-meaning but misguided neighbors and coworkers set her up with a string of brothers, cousins and nephews. Eventually she’d tired of the same old painfully awkward scenario. She’d chosen to leave the merry-go-round for good the last time one of those guys had taken a single look at Shiloh and suddenly decided that they weren’t really ready to jump back into the dating pool, saying that it wasn’t her, it was him.
She no longer believed that romantic love had a place in her life. She had learned to be content with the fact that she had a job, though a challenging one; she had a comfortable home she loved to return to at the end of each day; and she had her beautiful, smart, strong-willed girl. Even if she did sometimes long for more, it wasn’t likely to show up on her doorstep. And that was just fine.
Lucy grinned and reached down to rub Thor’s scruffy neck. Even he’d stayed behind with his second choice, intuiting that Shiloh needed her space.
“Smart boy,” Lucy said. Thor thumped his tail against the floor and raised a paw, happy to have pleased someone.
Yep, Lucy thought. Better to stick with a dog.
* * *
Sam was restless and desperate for something to occupy his hands. He’d gone a little overboard on the breakfast spread the past two mornings, having shopped the day after he’d arrived for fresh fruit and ingredients for lemon-raspberry muffins, along with coffee from a little shop he’d found on Main Street. He’d scanned the pantry and noticed the shop’s name on a near-empty bag, delighted at the discovery that the Lonestar purchased goods from a local place. The list of things he liked about the woman who managed it all grew longer each moment he spent near her.
He would have to watch that.
That list couldn’t get any longer or he’d have a problem on his hands.
He’d come to Peach Leaf with one purpose, and he wouldn’t allow anything to distract from it. And he especially would not get involved with the one person who might stand in the way of any chance of his building a relationship with his daughter. If he let himself get caught up in Lucy and it didn’t work out, his daughter would be the one to suffer, and he would not allow that.
He’d expected the sister Jennifer spoke of to be married, with her own children perhaps. Certainly not the sunny-haired, evidently
single beauty he’d discovered instead. He’d seen already that she was hardworking, fiercely independent, and very clearly adored her niece. Keeping the truth from such a woman—especially a woman whose physical beauty was such a distraction—would not be an easy task.
He shoved the grim thought aside and grinned, recalling that morning.
Lucy had taken one bite of a muffin and, crumbs sticking to her cute, dimpled chin, had pronounced Sam hired. He had presented her with his driver’s license and Social Security card, and the woman had seemed mostly satisfied that he hadn’t yet killed anyone or stolen anything. They had made plans for him to go shopping the next day for supplies that weren’t delivered on a preset weekly basis, but with the restaurant and museum closed early that afternoon for maintenance, Sam found himself with nothing to do. The restlessness had begun to bother him.
He’d had an idea that he ran by Tessa, and, without thinking any further on the subject, he’d made a decision and headed into town to pick up lumber and tools from the hardware store. The little town and its shop owners had charmed him, and he’d got a kick out of the fact that everything a local might require could be found with minimal effort on Main Street. Its appeal aside, a solution would have to be found for the town’s disturbing lack of dining choices, should he end up staying. A person could only handle so much bratwurst, burgers and beer.
Sam pulled his rental truck up to the road just outside Lucy and Shiloh’s gate, at the bottom of the hill Tessa had described. When he opened the unlocked latch, a large dog bounded up and sniffed Sam’s hand before letting out several happy barks. His tail wagged ninety miles an hour.
“Some guard dog you are,” Sam said, scratching behind the dog’s ears, which earned him a permanent friend. Once he’d propped the gate wide, he opened his truck door and the dog jumped right in, settling his furry butt in the passenger seat as if he owned the place.
“Well, make yourself at home,” Sam said, laughing as he buckled the seat belt over the dog’s chest before snapping on his own.
