by Shirley Jump
“A walk can take as long as you want it to, depending on what you need to discover while your feet are moving.” Willow lifted a low-hanging branch and swung her head underneath the curtain of leaves, then waited for Alex to follow.
She did. Not just because she needed the story desperately—she’d had to do a piece previewing fall wedding trends this morning to fill next Sunday’s fashion section—but also because she needed something else to think about besides the growing soap opera of her life.
A tension headache pounded in Alex’s temples, leftover from last night. Who would have thought that a man whispering “I think I’m falling in love with you” would bring on an instant headache?
Alex rubbed at her head, then slipped into the copse of woods. Instantly, the world darkened, became thicker, lusher. Full of greenery and the dense, rich scent of new earth. Birds chirped above, their wings clapping like applause as they flitted from tree to tree, feeding their babies, building nests, eating bugs. Continuing a circle of life in one tiny microcosm.
“It’s beautiful back here,” Alex said.
“I come here when I need to find peace.” Willow let out a little laugh. “Which, in this world, is pretty often.”
They walked some more, Alex wanting to get straight to the interview questions. She needed peace—but she needed this piece more. At the rate Willow was sharing information, she’d be lucky to have the story done in a year. “Is this where you got the idea for The Season of Light?” Alex asked. “Because the book has a lot of nature analogies in it.”
Willow turned to Alex, clearly pleased. “You’ve picked up quite a bit from the text, and, yes, I was inspired by the great outdoors. But that isn’t why I brought you here. I don’t want to talk about my career.” She waved a hand. “That’s old news. Who really cares?”
Alex bit back a scream of frustration. “Lots of people do. It’s like an Agatha Christie mystery. You just…disappeared. People wonder where you went. Why you stopped writing. If you’ll ever publish another book again.”
Willow shrugged. “Is that what really matters, in the scheme of things? Really? What matters in your life, Alex?”
Alex tore a maple leaf off a branch, and began to shred off the five sections, tossing them to the ground like strips of green confetti. “My grandmother. My friends.”
“You wouldn’t be so persistent in getting my story if that was all that mattered.”
Alex smiled. “Okay, my job. I want to be more than just a fashion reporter.”
“Ah, the ever-elusive quest for fame and fortune. The front page, is it? Well, that comes with a double-edged sword, just remember that. Sometimes, toiling away in obscurity has its merits.”
Willow paused to lean against a tree. Alex took a seat on a nearby stump. She noticed the area had been cleared in a small circle, as if made for a place to pause.
“The front page has its merits, too, like a raise in pay,” Alex said. “That’s something I need right now.”
Willow thought a moment, then nodded. “You do, indeed. Great changes are coming your way.” She bent forward, her gaze connecting with Alex’s. “Are you ready, dear?”
Trepidation snaked down Alex’s spine. That was crazy. Willow was crazy. She couldn’t possibly predict the future. Still, the desire to know more rose in Alex. “Ready for what?”
“Something’s coming that will change everything. All your plans.” Willow chuckled softly. “Though planning is just a misnomer, isn’t it? Really, we’re all at the mercy of Fate.”
“Uh…yeah.” This couldn’t go worse if a train derailed right in front of them. Alex could already see the headlines: RECLUSIVE AUTHOR LOSES HER MIND.
And: WANNABE REPORTER LOSES HER JOB.
Willow pushed off from the tree and dusted her hands together. “Fate is how I came to writing in the first place. I was failing school, failing everything, really, and my mother enrolled me in this after-school tutoring program. The woman who ran it, Sister Angela, believed in making us write. She said the written word was the key to everything you wanted in life.”
Thank God. Willow was finally telling Alex something she could use, and understand.
Alex rose, and began to walk beside Willow again. “Now that’s a concept I can get behind.”
“Sister Angela brought out this side of me I never knew I had, and all of a sudden, I realized I could be something. Somebody. I started carrying a notebook everywhere I went, and, well”—she put up her hands—“that’s how Jensine’s story was born. It took a lot of drafts before it became the book you read, but that’s where it all started. In a tiny classroom at St. Mary’s Catholic School.”
“But why didn’t you ever write another book? If you loved it so much?”
Willow tick-tocked a finger at Alex. “Remember our deal? An answer for an answer. You have to tell me what Fate brought you to.”
“You. And the front page. Hopefully.” Alex grinned.
“Is that all Fate has done for you?” Willow circled around a tree, bringing them through the patch of woods and back toward the shop. Alex could just see the outline of the building through the trees.
“No. It gave me a crappy childhood, too. But I already mentioned that.” Alex yanked another maple leaf off a branch and tossed it to the side. “Can we talk about something else? Like what city I’d most like to visit? My favorite food?”
“Fate would only give you the crappy childhood as a learning experience. There’s a reason behind everything.” Willow ran her hand over a burst of bright yellow daylilies, the blooms brushing their soft petals against her palm as if in greeting. “What was your reason?”
“To make me appreciate eating three square meals a day.”
Willow’s lips pursed in disappointment, but she said nothing. She continued strolling through the woods, as calm as ever, and silent.
That game again. The one where she said nothing. And waited.
Alex tried a second time to wait her out, letting the birds, the cracking of branches, the sound of their footfalls, fill the silence. But all it did was seem to multiply the absence of conversation.
Willow stopped walking and pivoted toward Alex. “We’re at the end of our walk. I think we’ve gotten all we can out of this path, don’t you?”
“But we’ve just gotten started,” Alex said. “It’s been a great conversation so far.”
Willow reached out and patted Alex’s hand. “It has been, but you need to leave. You have much bigger things coming your way and you need to go get your house in order.”
Then Willow was gone, leaving Alex once again wondering where her real story lay. In the crazy author—or in how crazy the author was driving her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
If someone had told Mack that his life would change inside the aisles of True Value, he would have laughed them off. After all, the chances of having a major life moment while buying a drill bit were pretty damn slim.
But apparently Slim had ridden on into town, and dropped right into Mack’s lap, because as he rounded the corner of the aisle, he walked straight into the last person he expected to see.
His mother.
“Mack!” she exclaimed, her voice soft but high with surprise.
He stopped, unsure of how to respond. Hug her? Yell at her? Walk away? In the end, he simply stood there and said, “Mom.”
She took a half step forward, as if she, too, didn’t know how to approach him. “How have you been? Have you gotten my cards? My letters?”
He searched her face, looking for…what? Nothing had changed, that he could see. The same soft blue eyes, the same long light brown hair with a touch of gray. She seemed a little thinner, looked a little more tired than usual, but otherwise, Emma was the mother he knew and remembered.
He thought of her letters, the chatty, breezy pages talking about the classes she’d taken, the people she’d met. He’d answered some but not all of them, needing that paper connection as much as he wanted to sever it, because it hurt ju
st as much to maintain the lines of communication as it did to lose them.
His gaze met hers and an ache spread through his chest, deep and sharp. “Yes, I got them. And I’m fine,” he said. “Just fine.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
“What are you doing here?”
She smiled, the same soft smile as always, as if he’d just come home from school or popped in for dinner. “Buying some wiper fluid for my car and a…a gardening trowel.”
“No, I meant here, in town. Why are you back?”
His mother swallowed and looked away, her gaze going past Mack’s shoulder and down the aisle of drill bits. “I missed it here.”
Not “I missed your father.” Not “I missed you.” But “I missed it here.” The ache in Mack’s chest became a stabbing sensation and suddenly, he couldn’t stand there one more second.
“Well, I hope you find a good trowel,” Mack said, then he slid past her and headed toward the cash register.
“Mack.” She reached for him, her touch landing on his bare arm. He halted midstep, as if he’d had been caught by a rope. “Don’t go, not yet.”
“I have to get back to the job site.”
“I want to talk to you. I haven’t seen you in a year.”
He wheeled around, the sharp pain so severe he nearly couldn’t breathe. “And whose fault is that? You walked away from us, Mom. And now you want to walk back in, as if nothing happened. This wasn’t a party you left, it was our lives.”
Then he spun on his heel and walked out of the store, dropping the drill bit onto the checkout counter as he left. He didn’t need anything bad enough that he would linger in that place one minute longer.
The scents of pepperoni and cheese filled the kitchen, drawing an ever-hopeful Chester to the table, but not Mack. Alex popped her head into the den. “I made dinner. Meaning, I stopped by Papa Gino’s and placed an order for two large pizzas with extra pepperoni. It was a lot of work.” She grinned.
“I’m not hungry.” He sat on the sofa, his feet on the ottoman, and flicked through the channels on the television, scrolling past one sporting event after another.
“You didn’t come back to the house this afternoon. Did you get tied up at another job site?”
“No.” Mack sighed, then clicked off the television and put the remote on the coffee table. “I saw my mother today.”
Alex slipped into the room and settled into the chair opposite Mack. For a second, she considered not telling him she’d been the one to contact Emma. But in all the years she’d known Mack, she’d never lied to him and she wasn’t about to start now. “I went and saw her the other day.”
“You…” He blinked. “You saw my mother?”
“I knew you missed her, and your father does, too. So I talked to her, told her maybe she should visit you.”
Mack’s feet dropped to the floor with a loud plop. Then he rose, slowly, fury filling his features. “You were the one that told my mother to come back? Why the hell would you do that?”
“I thought I was helping, Mack. I thought I was doing you a favor.”
“You didn’t do anyone a favor, Alex. All you did was interfere in my life. I didn’t need you to do that.” He stalked away to the bay window that faced the wooded backyard. His shoulders hunched. He stared out at the trees.
She went to Mack and placed a hand on his back, but his muscles were taut. Almost cold. “I’m just trying to be your friend. You were in pain, and I wanted to help.”
“How did that help, Alex? My father already saw her when we were out at dinner. Inevitably, if she’s stays in town, they’re going to run into each other. I can see it coming. They’ll end up getting back together. In a week, they’ll be fighting again. And she’ll leave.” He shook his head. “I don’t have the energy to pull him out of this depression the next time she walks away.”
“What if she doesn’t? She really seemed like she wants things to be different. She missed both of you as much as you miss her. Why can’t you let her back into your life?”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. The silence stretched between them until it became a taut thread, ready to snap with the slightest pressure. “I don’t want my father to get hurt again.”
“Maybe he won’t. He’s a big boy, Mack. He can make that decision for himself.”
“Either way, Alex,” Mack said, turning to her, “I don’t need you trying to create a happy ending for my parents. You’re so damn determined to make a fairy tale come true for everyone.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “You need to realize not all stories end in happily ever after.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alex couldn’t sleep. The humidity hung in the air like weights on her shoulders, driving her from bed. Mack’s air-conditioning system was pumping cool air into the house, but it didn’t seem to be enough. She wandered down to the kitchen, got a glass of ice water, but still felt sticky, hot.
Ever since her conversation with Mack, she’d been restless. Maybe he was right…maybe not all stories ended in happily ever after. But damn it, she was tired of seeing her own story be like one of Grimms’ Fairy Tales. It seemed, though, that she couldn’t have it all.
She had found a man who wanted the life she did. A man who had every quality she’d ever looked for. And yet, when he kissed her, she felt…
Nothing.
What was wrong with her? Was she somehow undermining her relationship with Steve by turning off her libido? Or could he be Mr. Wrong?
Alex ran a hand through her hair. If she could just clear her head, get out of this heat, then maybe she’d find the answers she needed. She paused in the great room. Beyond the French doors, the reflection of the stars twinkled in the pool’s water. The filter gurgled softly, almost like a siren’s song, calling to her, whispering coolness. Escape.
Her muscles ached. Her entire body seemed to ache, from the hard work, the stress of the last week, the odd feelings awakened by Mack, the one man she shouldn’t want. Emotions and questions still churned inside her, unanswered despite their conversation about keeping everything strictly friends the other day.
He wanted her. But he didn’t want anything permanent.
How could that be? Mack had married once before, though no one knew why, or why he’d gotten divorced almost as quickly as he’d run off to Vegas. It was a part of himself he’d kept quiet. Had his marriage to Samantha been that bad that it had soured him forever on settling down?
The trouble was, Alex wanted him, too. She wanted Mack in a way that ran so deep, she couldn’t even begin to describe the desire that coursed through her veins. She wanted it all—the man who lit her on fire, and a man who wanted to settle down.
Alex paced the living room, questions running through her at warp speed. At this rate, she’d never find peace, or sleep. What would it hurt to slip into that pool, for just a little while, and surrender to the bliss of the water?
Her swimsuit was all the way upstairs. Alex didn’t feel like making that trek, not when the water was mere feet away. She crossed to the doors and unlatched them quietly. Chester popped his head up, then went back to sleep, nonplussed.
Mack’s yard was surrounded by thick pine trees, and backed up to protected wetlands, offering the perfect private retreat. No one would see her. No one would know if she just—
Slipped off her T-shirt and slid into the water in her panties.
Instantly, the luscious coolness met her skin like a kiss, peaking her nipples, waking her pulse. She dove to the bottom, delighting in the slightly illicit feeling of being half-naked and outdoors in the middle of the night. She swam slowly, enjoying the caress of the water, her eyes closed, drifting to one end and upward, until she reached the top, then floated back to the shallow end, water sluicing over her breasts, tickling at her nipples, reminding her of Mack. Of Mack’s tongue. Of climaxing beneath his touch.
Who was she kidding? She wanted to sleep with him, wanted to go to bed with him, wanted to know exactl
y what it felt like to have him inside her. She slid a hand down her chest, wishing it was his hand, his much bigger, rougher, more powerful hand, a hand that could engulf her breast. She kneaded at the nipple, wanting release, wanting that fantasy again, wanting—
“You could drown doing that.”
Alex jerked upright, sucking in a great gulp of water as she did. She spun toward Mack’s voice, spitting out the chlorinated drink. She covered her chest with one arm, grateful she was in shallow enough water to stand. “What are you doing out here?”
“Watching you.” He stood on the edge of the pool, clad in nothing but a pair of light blue boxers. A single light burned inside the house, but it was enough to outline him through the thin cotton. The hard, muscular definition of his legs. Firm thighs. And an unmistakable erection. “I wanted to apologize for getting so angry earlier, but I’m having a little trouble remembering what we were talking about.” He let out a low laugh. “Hell, right now I can’t even remember my own name.”
She couldn’t remember much, either, except why she was here. “Sorry. I…I was hot.”
“You are very hot.”
They stared at each other for one long, taut second. Then Mack stepped into the pool and crossed to Alex. Her gaze locked with his, his eyes so dark in the moonlight, they seemed almost black. Her heart rate accelerated, thudding so loud in her chest she was sure it was going to explode.
Mack approached her, and slowly, as if both of them knew this moment was going to come at some point or another no matter what either of them had said, her arm came down, exposing her breasts to his view. His mouth dropped open, then he smiled. He looked up, at her, and she nodded.
Yes, she wanted him. Damn the consequences.
That was all it took.
Mack closed the distance between them, then slid his hands down her back, around her ass and into her panties. He cupped her cheeks, his palms warm where the water had cooled her skin. He began to slide the wet fabric down, an inch at a time, and as he did, he trailed kisses along her throat. Alex tipped her head back, exposing the valleys of her skin. Wherever Mack touched, he ignited fire, and she wanted more. So much more.
