by Emily March
Tony gave him a long look, then lightened his tone. “So, before I turn my the-doctor-is-in-the-house sign over to read he’s-outta-here and take this conversation in a more serious direction—namely, the dismal state of the Rockies bullpen—do you have any other women troubles we need to discuss?”
An image of Hope Montgomery lying in the golden light of dawn, her cheeks flushed, her lips pink and swollen from his kiss, shimmered like a dream in his mind. “Nope. No women troubles here.”
“All right then. Did you catch the ninth inning last night? What the hell is wrong with our closer?”
The brothers talked baseball, fishing, a little politics, even the latest book in a fantasy series they both read. Twice Tony tried to bring up basketball, but Lucca shut the subject down fast. They closed the evening off with a swim, a best-two-out-of-three race, in that way of unending competition that had been part of Lucca’s life for as long as he could remember.
He went to bed in Tony’s guest room, pleasantly fatigued and comfortably relaxed.
As he sank toward sleep, his thoughts wandered back over the events of the day to the predawn celestial event. In his mind’s eye, he saw sparkling meteors streaking across a black sky. He saw starlight and passion reflected in Hope Montgomery’s eyes.
Lost in heavenly bodies, he drifted into sleep and into dreams of stars and moons and meteors, starships and captains, and Lieutenant Hope Montgomery standing at a computer console dressed in a Starfleet uniform—a tight, bright red minidress and black boots.
Star Trek women had always been hot.
For Hope, the school year began with the chug chug chug of diesel as she started the school bus at a quarter after six in the morning and headed out on her rural route. She picked up seventeen students over the course of the next hour and delivered them to school in plenty of time for her to make it to her classroom to greet her students—the largest kindergarten class in some time in Eternity Springs.
The first day of class was always hard. It took all of her strength to meet her class on the first day without breaking into tears. What did Holly look like on her first day of school? She’d be starting fourth grade this year. Did she still wear her wavy red hair long? Did she have more than a dusting of freckles now? What books did she like to read?
Hope allowed herself a limited time to wallow in such thoughts, then she did what she always did—she soldiered on. She turned her focus toward getting to know her students as individuals, not as children the same age as Holly was when she disappeared, and by the end of the first week of school, her students loved her and she adored them in return.
Such was the joy of kindergarten.
During those first weeks of September, she kept busy and saw nothing of her prickly next-door neighbor. She told herself she was glad.
Even if she had relived that kiss more than once in her dreams.
Kindergarten was a half-day program in Eternity Springs, so in the afternoon, Hope taught one section of fifth grade social studies and three classes of PE. Between the two of them, she and Principal Geary had managed to coerce a couple of fathers in town to take charge of the football team. Hope had a target—three targets, actually—in mind to help with the basketball team, and she was waiting for the right moment to make her pitch.
In the meantime, she’d agreed to fill in. She’d played on her high school basketball team, and she could coach the middle school team. For the high schoolers, well, she had pinned her hopes on her targets: the Romanos. Gabi had played college ball. She probably would be happy to help once she finished transitioning from cop to B&B manager. Zach would help when he had time, Hope was certain. Lucca, everyone knew, was a long shot.
But practice wouldn’t start for another couple of weeks, and Hope had bigger worries on her plate at the moment. As in the school carnival, Fun Night, in particular. It was the largest fund-raiser of the year for the school, and thus very important. She was committee chairman, and the final planning meeting started … she glanced at her watch. “I’m late!”
Hope grabbed her notebook and hurried from the classroom.
The carnival was organized by the Eternity Springs Community School’s Parent-Teacher Organization and the chamber of commerce. Ordinarily, they’d hold the meeting in the school cafeteria, but today, Sarah Murphy had asked if they’d all come to her bakery, Fresh. “It’s a win-win,” Sarah had said when she’d called Hope to make the change and engage the phone tree to inform all committee members. “I’ll provide the refreshments for the meeting, and I don’t have to get the baby up from his afternoon nap.”
Fall was in the air as Hope walked up Spruce then turned west on Second Street toward the bakery. Autumn set the mountains surrounding Eternity Springs aglow with a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows. The afternoon air had a bite to it, and people on the streets walked a little faster than they had even the previous week. Hope expected the first snowfall of the season wouldn’t be long in coming.
Ignoring the closed sign in the window at Fresh, Hope opened the door and stepped inside to the clang of a bell. She followed the sound of voices through the shop into the attached living space that was Cam, Sarah, and little Michael Murphy’s home.
“Here she is,” Sarah said as Hope breezed into the Murphy living room. “You’re late.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I had to do a locker search and even this early in the school year, it was a pretty disgusting activity. Took me longer than I anticipated, but I found the contraband.”
“Cigarettes?” Gabi Romano asked.
“Chewing gum. I outlawed it after I stepped on some for the third time in a week.” She glanced hopefully toward the nursery. “Is our boy still snoozing?”
“Yes.” Sarah glanced at the clock. “If all is right with the world, we should have half an hour without interruption.”
“Then let’s get our business done so that we’re free to play when he wakes up.”
Planning committee members consisted of herself and her fellow teacher, Jim Brand; Sarah and Maggie Romano, representing the chamber; and PTO members Christy Hartford and Erin Ward.
“How have the nights been going with the puppies?” Hope asked Christy.
“Better,” Christy replied. “They’re not waking me up, though I suspect the kids are sneaking them into their beds. I admit I want a good night’s sleep enough that I haven’t bothered to check.”
The Hartfords had adopted two of Roxy’s puppies, while their next-door neighbors, the Wests, had taken the third. Hope had struggled with the decision to give up the puppies, but she couldn’t find anyone to take Roxy and all of her babies, and six weeks of puppy care had convinced her that four dogs were too many for one person to care for properly. The West and Hartford kids had fallen hard for the pups, and Christy’s suggestion that Roxy visit her offspring often had alleviated Hope’s guilt.
“You’ll have to bring Roxy over soon,” Christy continued. “My girls have a gift for her—a Halloween costume.”
“Really?” Hope responded, delighted.
Christy grinned. “They’re hoping you’ll let them take Roxy trick-or-treating with the puppies.”
“Tell your girls it’s a date.” Hope turned her smile toward Gabi next. “Are you here in your mother’s place today?”
“Yes.” Gabi rolled her eyes. “She’s in the middle of an argument with Lucca, and I needed to be away from there.” She paused, then added softly. “Permanently.”
Oh, dear.
Gabi pasted on a smile. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
Hope passed out the final room assignments for each of the carnival games. Erin reported on volunteers, and Gabi gave a recap of the prizes pledged by businesses in town. “Wow,” Sarah said. “We’re going to make a mint. Those are some awesome prizes.”
Looking over the list, Hope nodded in agreement. When her gaze fell upon her own classroom and its assignment to be the cakewalk headquarters, she frowned. “Sarah, are you sure about this? Fifteen cakes?”
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“It’s what I donated last year.”
“You didn’t have a two-month-old baby last year.”
“It is a lot of work,” Jim said. “Why don’t you cut back? We can invite some of the teachers and parents to provide cakes.”
“I’ll …” Gabi began, then stopped and scowled. “Oh, stop it. You all look like you’re sucking on lemons. Fine. I won’t bake.”
“You’re better at other things, honey,” Sarah said gently.
Hope thought it best to move on. “I have an idea. What if you made one cake, Sarah? It could be the grand prize and we could sell special tickets to participate in that round. Higher-priced tickets.”
“Make your Sarah’s Special,” Jim suggested. “I know folks in this town who would crawl through broken glass to get your … what’s it called?”
“Chocolate Almond Joconde Imprime with Golden Raspberry Filling,” Sarah said. “That’s an idea.”
“A great idea,” Gabi said. “It’s to die for and since you only make it around the holidays, there’s a lot of pent-up demand in town for it.”
“Isn’t that a lot of work?” Hope asked.
“Yes, it takes me three days. But, it’s still not as much work as making fifteen cakes.”
At that point a little mewling noise emerged from the baby monitor. “Sounds like someone is waking up,” Christy Hartford observed.
“Early, too,” Sarah said with a sigh. “I could have used another ten minutes off my feet.”
The mewling rose to a cry, and Hope bounced to her feet. “I’ll pick him up.”
“He’ll need changing.”
“Doesn’t scare me away.”
“Then be my guest.”
Hope made her way to Michael’s nursery, which was decorated in a koala bear theme in recognition of Cam’s years in Australia. Their artist friend Sage Rafferty had painted a glorious mural on the room’s far wall that made Hope smile whenever she saw it. Plus, it was far enough away from Piglet and Pooh that Hope’s déjà vu didn’t kick in every time she stepped into the room.
The infant lay on his back, his arms and legs flailing, his little round face red as he worked up a cry. “Shush, now, sweet boy,” Hope said, slipping her hands beneath the baby’s head and bottom and lifting him to rest against her shoulder. Immediately, her heart swelled with bittersweet joy, and her eyes went damp with tears. Holding a baby brought comfort, albeit temporary, to that hollow place inside her. The weight of an infant, the powdery scent, and the way plump little cheeks begged for kisses soothed her.
Her friend Daniel Garrett, whom she met six months after Holly had been taken, couldn’t understand her. The parent of a kidnapped child himself, he had the biggest heart of any man she’d ever known, but he found it difficult to be in the company of little ones. Hope didn’t know why the company of children eased her heartache, but “why” didn’t really matter, did it?
“Let’s get you changed, little man,” she said softly, carefully laying Michael Cameron Murphy onto his changing table. He cried when she put him down, so she briskly and efficiently changed his diaper.
He nuzzled at her breast as she carried him to his mother, and longing filled her. She had wanted a sister or brother for Holly, and when their firstborn turned three, she and Mark stopped using birth control. A month later, he’d been assigned to a death penalty case, and their opportunities to conceive dropped significantly. It had been difficult for her to get pregnant when he all but lived at the office.
She carried Michael into the living room, where the committee members stood waiting to see him. He put up with the cooers and kissers for a moment but soon announced his hunger in no uncertain terms. Hope handed the crying infant to his mother, then helped Gabi carry dishes to the kitchen. By the time they returned to the living room, the other committee members had departed. Sarah sat in a wooden rocker, her baby at her breast.
“Sit down and talk to me,” she told them. “Now that we have business out of the way, I want gossip.”
Hope sat in a floral-accent chair. Gabi plopped down onto the sofa and said, “I’m game. First, though, I’ve been meaning to ask. How is your mom doing, Sarah?”
Sarah’s mother was an Alzheimer’s patient living in a memory care facility in Gunnison. “Physically, she’s fine. Mentally, not so good.” Sarah gave a brief update of her mother’s condition, then added, “I took Michael to see her. That proved to be just about the toughest thing I’ve ever done. I lived at home when Lori was born, and Mom helped raise her. She loved Lori so much—was such a big part of her life. Knowing Michael won’t have that … it’s so hard, losing someone you love this way, but at the same time, not losing them.”
“Absolutely,” Hope said, a little more heartfelt than necessary, judging by the curious looks she received from Gabi and Sarah.
“Do you have experience with Alzheimer’s?” Sarah asked.
“Not personal experience, no. My parents both died young—a plane crash when I was in college.” Loneliness washed over Hope. “Sometimes, girls just need their mommies.”
“That’s true,” Gabi said. “I’m so sorry for you both. It’s never easy to lose a parent.”
Sarah moved the baby to her shoulder to burp him, and asked, “How is your mother doing, Gabi? Maggie always seems to have a positive outlook, but do I remember that she mentioned an unhappy anniversary coming up soon? She was so sad. Is it the anniversary of your father’s death?”
“No.” Gabi shook her head. “Dad died in the spring. The anniversary we have coming up is Lucca’s bus wreck.”
“That’s right.” Sarah’s eyes widened then rolled as little Michael gave out a surprisingly loud belch. “You’re all worried about him.”
“We are. He’s definitely more his old self these days, but every so often he has a day where he’s dark and gloomy and will hardly speak a word.”
“Depression is a hard one to handle, too,” Sarah said. “I think it’s difficult to admit when simply being down becomes something more—especially for men.”
“It’s difficult to watch people you love go through it. With Lucca … he was always the cheeriest of us. Now he’s a grumpy old cuss more often than not.”
A grumpy, blows-hot-and-cold cuss whom Hope couldn’t imagine describing as “cheery” under any circumstances.
She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. The conversation made her uncomfortable since it didn’t seem right to gossip about a man she’d kissed. Not with his sister, anyway. Yet, she wanted to find out as much as she could about him, so she ignored her unease and attempted to hide her interest by casually observing, “I’m not home a lot myself these days, but I don’t see much sign of him next door.”
“He’s spending most of his time at Aspenglow trying to get the majority of the outdoor work finished before winter. We have a new contractor starting work next week, though, so I expect Lucca will have more free time. Whether that will be a good thing or a bad thing, I’m not sure. He might revert to doing his Oscar the Grouch imitation if he doesn’t have plenty to keep him busy.” She sighed heavily and added, “But then, I’m not sure of much of anything these days—other than the fact that my mother is driving me crazy.”
“I worked with my mother for years,” Sarah said. “It certainly has its challenges.”
Gabi sighed. “Mom and I have always been good friends, and I thought this would be a good thing for us both. When I first broached the idea, she was all for it. Even now she’s all for me helping, but … she’s gone bonkers, and I can’t stand it.”
“Bonkers?” Hope asked. She’d visited with Maggie just yesterday, and she’d seemed perfectly normal.
“The electrician was scheduled to work today. When he showed up at eight a.m. ready to go to work, she told him to go home. She said she’d pay him for the day, but that she wanted a pajama day all by herself. She told Lucca to stay away, too.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Sarah asked. “Pajama days are heaven.”
“Yeah, but they’re not Mom. It’s just very weird and I—”
The women paused when Michael let out a happy gurgle. Sarah lowered the baby onto her lap and made faces at him. Gabi finished her sentence by changing the subject. “He is such a doll, Sarah.”
“I am head over heels in love.”
“As well you should be,” Hope said, trying to suppress the envy. “Enjoy every minute of it.”
“I do. It’s amazing, so different from last time, thank goodness. Looking back, I don’t know how I ever raised Lori without Cam there to help.”
“If Michael’s through nursing, can I hold him?” Gabi asked. In a sly, purposeful tone she added, “I need auntie practice.”
Sarah’s gaze zeroed in on her, her eyes bright with delight. “And why is that?”
Gabi grinned and stared at her manicured fingertips. “I’m not saying a word.”
She didn’t have to say a word, Hope thought. Her expression said it for her. Handing her son over to Gabi, Sarah demanded, “Savannah’s pregnant? Oh, Maggie is going to be over the moon. Every single time she sees Michael she goes into rapture at the idea of being a grandmother.”
“No, Savannah’s not pregnant. Not yet.” Gabi made faces at Michael. “She told me they’re about ready to start trying, though.”
“I’m sure Zach’s ready to work hard at the effort,” Sarah said with a grin. “Cam certainly was dedicated.”
“This onesie is too cute, Sarah.” Gabi tickled the terry-cloth monkey stretched over the baby’s tummy. “You know, maybe I should take Nic’s idea about opening a children’s shop in Eternity Springs more seriously.”
“Do you think you’d like to be a shopkeeper?” Sarah asked.
“More than I’d like working for my mother at her B&B,” Gabi replied. “I think that’s part of the problem. Aspenglow is her idea, her dream. I think I’d like to have my own.”
“You should work retail around here first and see if you like it. I’m sure Savannah would love the help at Heavenscents.”
“See, that’s the thing. Heavenscents is her baby, just like the B&B is Mom’s. Fresh was your dream, Sarah. Vistas is Sage’s. Ali has the Yellow Kitchen. How will I know if anything is really right until I dive in and do it? How did you decide that you wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, Hope?”
