by Shirley Jump
“Oh, I shouldn’t—”
“Hey, you can’t sleep, I can’t sleep. Let’s have a really boring conversation and drink some chamomile tea or something.”
She laughed. “Do you drink chamomile tea?”
“Hell, no. It sounds like something my grandmother would make. I opt for the manly cure for insomnia.” He hoisted his beer.
“Ah, smart move.” She hesitated a moment more, then dropped into the chair beside him. “Okay, I’ll stay a moment, but only because it is a nice view.”
He chuckled. “I’ll take that.”
She turned to face him, her eyes wide and luminous. “You keep trying to act like we are friends, Harris, when last I checked, we were anything but.”
“True.” Their relationship had ended with an explosion. His father had told him that he’d seen Melanie with another man. Harris hadn’t believed him, but then he’d driven across town, and when he pulled up outside Mellie’s house, there she was, sobbing in someone else’s arms. When Harris confronted her, she hadn’t denied it. She’d just cried and said over and over again that it wasn’t what he thought, but the embrace he’d seen said otherwise. He’d stood there, with a ring in his pocket, and seen his whole life fall apart.
Their breakup had almost destroyed him. He’d been young and in love, or so he’d thought, and even having her this close to him brought up all the feelings he had tried to bury a decade ago.
“I’m sorry about how things ended,” he said. He’d been a teenage boy, quick to anger, slow to listen. He’d basically yelled at her and stomped off. Regardless of what she’d done, that moment was one he regretted. “I could have handled that better.”
She waved off his words. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past.”
“Is it?”
Her gaze stopped meeting his. “We’ve been apart for more than ten years. We’ve both had relationships in that time, and I’ve gotten married—”
“And divorced.” He wondered what kind of man would let Mellie go, then remembered he had done that very thing—after he’d seen her with another man she couldn’t explain. Her cheating on him had destroyed their relationship. Maybe some relationships were just meant to end.
She got to her feet and faced the lake, her back to him. “And since then, we’ve both moved on, pursued other paths, other interests, other people,” she said. “Whatever we had back in high school, we’ve long since outgrown.”
He rose, shifted into place beside her. She pivoted, just a little, but didn’t back away. His gaze flicked to that sliver of skin, then back to her face. Damn, she looked beautiful, even with her hair back in a ponytail and her face bare of makeup. He’d missed her, more than he’d realized until he saw her on that bar stool. Had her cheating been part of teenage immaturity, the same as his over-the-top reaction? Or something more? Had their relationship ever meant as much to her as it did to him? “Did we?”
She cut her gaze away. “Harris, this is pointless—”
He caught her chin and brought her to face him. Then just as quickly, let her go. What was he doing? “Sorry. I...I just don’t want us to have hard feelings.”
She gave him a short nod. “Fine. We’ve made amends. Now we can go to sleep with clear consciences.”
If only that were true. His conscience was still haunted by his father’s actions, his mother’s sorrow, the dominoes that kept falling. Harris took a sip of beer and leaned against the deck railing.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m not sleepy yet.” A few minutes passed, with only the chirp of the crickets and the occasional call of a lonely loon breaking the silence. “I love this time of day.”
“I remember.”
Did she think of those days, too? Did she remember the long walks in the woods and the afternoons by the creek, and the way a few simple words from her would turn his days around? Damn, he had loved her then. Why had she turned to someone else while still claiming to love him? Had she lied about her feelings? Or had he been too infatuated to see the truth?
“It’s almost magical, you know?” When he was young, he’d sneaked out of the house at night, soaking in the freedom of the dark, the quiet, the fact that he was breaking the rules. “When I’m stuck at work, I often take a walk at night. It helps clear my head.”
“I do the same thing sometimes.” She leaned back against a post and toed a circle on the wooden decking. “So, why custom home building?”
He shrugged. “It was a way to combine my loves of drawing, numbers and being hands-on. The job checked all the boxes.” He tipped his beer in her direction. “Why magazine writer? I thought you wanted to be a journalist.”
“Well, my job is definitely not what I thought I’d end up doing.” She sighed, and her gaze went to the lake. “I always wanted to write things that mattered. Stories that people cared about.”
She seemed sad—lost, almost. The part of him that had never stopped caring about her—not really—wanted to reach out and hug her and make it all better. “Then why not leave the magazine and write what you really want to write? I know that takes a leap of faith—it’s a leap I had to take when I quit my job. Scary as hell, but worth it in the end.”
She scoffed. “Easier said than done, Harris. I can’t afford to just up and do something else. Writing about the new trend in sandals for summer was a way to pay my bills.”
Was. Past tense. Maybe just an accidental slip of the tongue?
He covered her hand with his own. It was the second time he’d touched her tonight, and that familiar zing ran through him again. “Then write about something that makes you excited to get out of bed in the morning. I remember how you were always carrying around that pad of paper. You loved writing, loved telling stories. I don’t see that same excitement in your face now.”
“Well, I’m not a naive kid now. I haven’t been for a long time. You don’t know me, Harris. Not anymore.” She turned away and broke their connection. “I...I should probably get back to bed.”
Just before she opened the door, he said, “Remember that time we went skinny-dipping in the high school pool?”
What the hell? Where did that come from?
“What made you think of that?”
He nodded at the dark expanse below the hill. He could hear Mellie laughing in that long-ago memory, see the flash of her pale skin before she dived into the water, tempting him, daring him, to loosen the shackles that hung around his life. “That lake down there. Probably still warm at this time of year.”
He really was a glutton for punishment. They were over, and for good reason. What was he trying to resurrect here?
“I am not skinny-dipping with you, Harris McCarthy. Regardless of the temperature of the water.”
He chuckled at the mock propriety in her voice, the feigned outrage. The Mellie he remembered would have taken almost any risk, leaped off any cliff. She’d always been so much braver than him, daring him to live outside the lines his father had painted around him from birth. It took a lot more years after they’d broken up before Harris got brave enough to tell his father no and to strike out on his own.
If he’d stayed with Mellie, would he have found the courage sooner? The consequences of staying as long as he had...well, Harris would be paying for those for a while. If their relationship had been different—had been what he’d thought it was—how would that have changed things for him? “We had a hell of a time that night.”
“Until the janitor caught us. We almost got expelled.” She shook her head, and the moment of lightness disappeared from her face. “Why are you bringing up old history?”
“Because I’ve never had as much fun with anyone as I have with you, Mellie. And I miss that.”
She hesitated, and for a second, he hoped she would reconsider the wall she’d kept between them. “I...well, I still don’t think we should—”
“Be fri
ends? Because that’s all I’m asking.” He wanted to tell her that he’d had a hell of a week, and he could really use some company. Especially from the one woman who had always made him laugh. But saying that would mean opening up about what was bothering him, all the heaviness weighing him down, and there was no way Harris wanted to do that right now. Or ever.
“I just came out for a breath of fresh air. Maybe another time, Harris.” Then she turned on her heel and went back into the inn.
Chapter Three
Melanie pulled open the door to the Stone Gap Gazette a little after nine the next morning. It was a small building, tucked at the end of a side street. The bell over the door let out a tinny ring as she went inside, and the wood floors beneath her feet creaked.
A wizened old man got to his feet when she entered. The ball cap on his head shadowed his craggy features. “Can I help you?”
She put on a bright smile and tried to quell the nerves in her gut. She’d gone on dozens of interviews in the many, many months since she’d lost her job. For weeks on end, not a single callback, not a single offer. She was beginning to wonder if she was in the wrong field all together, despite what Harris had said last night. All she had was the one maybe offer from that prestigious online magazine—which would only become a yes if she proved her depth as a journalist.
“Good morning.” She widened her smile, then skipped the small talk. If she was going to be rejected, might as well get it over with quickly. “I heard you need some writing help for the next couple of weeks.”
“I need help for a lot longer than that, but yeah, I’d love to get an experienced writer in here. I’m Saul Richardson, editor and chief bottle washer. And you are?”
“Melanie Cooper.” Unemployed writer who is hoping she doesn’t strike out once again.
They shook hands, then he peered at her over his glasses. He was only a couple inches taller than her, his back hunched from years of sitting at a desk, but his gaze was bright and clear as a laser. “Are you an experienced writer?”
She nodded. “Five years with City Girl magazine in New York. If you want to pull up my clips, they’re all archived on the magazine’s website.” So many other places she’d interviewed at in New York had been unimpressed with her credentials. In a city that big, writers were a dime a dozen, especially ones with no hard journalism experience. She’d never even gotten a call after sending her résumé to the more serious publications in town, like the Times and the New Yorker. Maybe in a small town, where published writers were few and far between, she’d have a better shot.
Saul gave her one last assessment, then nodded. “I’ll do that. In fact, why don’t you go grab a bite to eat over at the café while I take a peek at your work. When you get back, we’ll see if you have the right stuff for the Stone Gap Gazette. I know it might just seem like a small-town paper to other folks, but it’s my baby, and I can’t let just anyone work here.”
Melanie chuckled. She liked Saul, with his fierce protectiveness of his paper, his caution at hiring just anyone. She could already tell he’d be a great editor to work for. He seemed passionate, but smart and fair. “I can understand that. I used to be editor of my high school newspaper, and I had pretty much the same attitude as you. So I can appreciate your commitment to quality and to maintaining the paper’s reputation. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She gave him the URL for the magazine’s archives, then headed across the street to Mabel’s Diner.
Like pretty much everything in Stone Gap, the diner was a cozy place, filled with locals on this bright Wednesday morning, and a bustling waitstaff hurrying back and forth with omelets and coffees. So unlike New York, with its hordes of people in suits flowing in a black and gray sea down the crowded streets, and the overpriced coffee shops where a simple latte cost as much as the entire Hearty Man Breakfast Platter at Mabel’s.
She opted to sit at one of the two remaining free seats at the counter and ordered a coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs from the bubbly girl behind the counter. Moments later, a good-looking dark-haired man sat on the last empty stool.
“Morning,” he said, giving her a friendly nod. “You must be new in town.”
Melanie laughed. “Do I have that tattooed on my forehead or something? Everyone says that. And the next question is—”
“Are you staying at the Stone Gap Inn?” he finished for her. “I hope you are, because I’m Jack Barlow, son of Della, who is part owner of the inn.” He thrust out his hand.
“I’m Melanie. Nice to meet you. Your mom mentioned you and your brothers when she talked about the renovations. I’ve heard the Barlow name mentioned around town, too, quite often.” Yet another way this town differed from New York City, or even the large town where she’d grown up in Connecticut. No wonder Abby loved it here. The town perfectly suited her home-centered sister.
“That’s because my brothers and I are a little notorious around town for getting into trouble.” He grinned. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay.”
“I am. The inn is wonderful. I haven’t met your mother yet, but Mavis has been really sweet and friendly.” The waitress slid her coffee over, and Melanie thanked the girl. She shook in some sugar and poured in a little creamer. “I’m only here for a week or so, in town for my sister Abby’s wedding.”
“Abby and Dylan? Really great couple.” Jack took a sip of his coffee, then waved hello to a few people who had just walked in, before swiveling his attention back to Melanie. “My wife, Meri, is the photographer.”
“Really? My sister was singing her praises for helping her save the wedding when a bunch of things went wrong.” She took a sip of the rich, dark coffee. “This is a small place.”
Jack chuckled. “That’s pretty much Stone Gap in a nutshell. Everyone knows everyone, and we all help each other out. Like Dylan—when his uncle needed him, he was here. The things Dylan has done with that community center have been fabulous. Really turned the place around, and made it so popular we have kids from out of town who want to come hang out in the afternoons.”
“That’s great.” She took a sip of coffee, her mind shifting away from her sister’s life and back to the editor waiting across the street for her to wow him. “Do you think the community center would make a good feature for the town paper? I’m interviewing over there after breakfast and would love to go back to the editor with a story idea or two.”
Jack shook his head. “Saul just did a piece on the community center a month ago. And one on the inn.”
“Oh. Okay.” Being new in town came with a lot of disadvantages—mainly that she didn’t know what had already been written about. She wondered if maybe Saul would be interested in profiles of the local businesspeople, or maybe one on the impact of the inn on the town. Okay, so those were all boring ideas, not jump-start-her-career ideas. A story about a bona-fide hero would land her an above-the-fold, front-page credential, but wasting that on the Stone Gap Gazette didn’t make sense.
Jack thanked the waitress for a refill of his coffee and took a few sips, quiet for now. Melanie ate her eggs and tried not to let her optimism fade.
“You know,” Jack began, “the one story Saul hasn’t covered—and not for lack of trying from what I hear—is the fire out at the Kingston place. This guy from out of town—damn, I forget his name, but he was a contractor or something, I think. Anyway, he rushed in there and saved every last member of the family.”
That sure sounded like a hero story. And it had to be the one involving Harris McCarthy. He was the only out-of-town contractor she knew, and the man at the bar had said something about him being a local hero. But Harris...rushing into a burning building? Really?
Was it all that implausible? Just because he’d broken her heart and let her down when she needed him most didn’t make him unheroic. Years and years ago, Harris had once carried an injured dog for three miles, over rugged terrain, to get him to a vet. That was hero material. A
man didn’t lose that just because he grew up—and broke a few hearts along the way.
Melanie leaned a little closer and tried not to look too eager. “I heard a little about that at the Comeback Bar last night.”
“Quite the event. Partly because this town is so small, just about anything becomes news.” Jack chuckled. “Anyway, it’s got the town all abuzz. Normally something like that happens, the family gets news coverage and folks are lining up to drop off clothes and food, but this time, the Kingstons are staying mum. Damnedest thing.”
In Melanie’s experience, people who kept quiet had something to hide. Which had all the earmarks of a career-rejuvenating article. The kind of story that made her want to race to her keyboard in the morning, the kind of story she’d dreamed of writing the day she arrived in New York. Maybe if she wrote this story, she could trace her way back to the life she’d been seeking all this time and never quite found.
Melanie dropped some bills on the counter and took a quick gulp of coffee. The urge to get the interviews, write the words, land the job, rushed through her. The drive she’d lost long ago sprang to life. “Thanks for the tip, Jack.”
“You’re welcome. Anytime. Welcome to Stone Gap, by the way.”
She smiled. “Thanks. It’s a great town. I don’t know what I expected, but it seems so...cozy. Like a cabin in the woods or some cliché like that.”
“Be careful,” Jack said. “Stone Gap is the kind of town that grows on you. Before you know it, you’re buying a sofa and planting hydrangeas.”
Melanie laughed. “I’m not the hydrangea-planting kind of person. And Stone Gap is just a temporary stop.” I’m only staying long enough to get my life back on track.
And now, with the chance to nab an exclusive story, that path felt closer than ever.
