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As soon as Meri curled her palm around the heavy key, she was sixteen again in her mind, on a starlit night at Stone Gap Lake. She’d snuck down to the cottage with Jack, nervous and excited and completely infatuated. She’d been too foolish, too eager to prove she was mature and ready for what Jack wanted. In the end, she’d sat alone on the bank of the lake, confused and heartbroken.
Her cousin Eli had found her and driven her home, and helped her sneak up the rose trellis to her room before her mother found out she was gone.
Eli.
God, how could he be gone? Just being here, it seemed as if her cousin, with his giant personality, was still alive, that she’d see him at Sunday church or hanging out in the drive-through of the Quickie Burger. He was her best friend, one of the few people who could tease her out of a bad mood or a bad day, and more like a brother than a cousin. But in her head she could still hear that heartbreaking call from her aunt last year, telling Meri he was gone. The realization hit her anew with a sharp ache.
Meri drew in a breath, then tucked the key in her pocket and turned back to her mother. All Meri wanted to do was go see her grandfather, the most sane person on her father’s side of the family. “Have you seen Grandpa Ray?”
“I have had a number of commitments. Something I’m not sure you remember, Meredith Lee.”
The use of her formal name told Meri two things—one, her mother was trying to gain control of the situation, and two, she was gearing up to launch a criticism masquerading as a compliment. “I’m not here to discuss the past or what I’m doing with my present, Momma. I’m here to see Grandpa Ray, and be with him for as long as...” The words caught in her throat.
Too many losses. Meri couldn’t take another. Not now.
Her mother pursed her lips, then nodded. She waved a delicate, manicured hand. “Then go, go. But be back in time for supper. Geraldine is making roast chicken. She made up your bed with those floral sheets you like, if you change your mind about where you want to stay.”
Meri sighed. “You knew I wasn’t staying here. Grandpa needs me, so I’m staying at the cottage. Nobody’s living there, and it’s right next door.”
“Why, Meredith Lee, that is akin to sleeping in the woods. Your grandfather lives like a heathen and that guest cottage of his is no better. Good Lord, when was the last time he cleaned it? It could be positively infested. I don’t think anyone has been there since your father used to go for his fishing weekends.”
“Just because Grandpa Ray lives in a modest house and doesn’t give a rat’s a—” she cut off the curse before it fully formed “—care about what people think of the way he lives doesn’t make him a heathen.”
“Geraldine will be sorely disappointed.”
The maid had been with the family for thirty years, longer than Meri had been alive. She had no doubt the gregarious woman would miss having Meri around, and for a moment, Meri felt bad about that. Then she realized her mother had said Geraldine would be disappointed, not herself.
Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. “I have to go, Momma.”
She hurried out of the emotionally stifling house and into her car. She whispered a prayer, then turned the key and with a jerk the Toyota roared to life. Thank God. As soon as she pulled out of the driveway, the lump in her throat cleared and the air smelled sweeter. She wound her way through town, passing the statuesque old South mansions, the quaint storefronts, the moneyed world of Stone Gap, until she reached the southwestern corner, so disparate from the rest of the town it seemed as forlorn as a stepchild, forgotten and left behind.
This was where Meri fit in, where she could breathe. This hardscrabble section of town, where people let their lawns get overgrown and left bikes in the front yard and didn’t care if someone forgot a glass on the coffee table. She parked in Grandpa Ray’s stone driveway, kicked off the heels and switched them for the flip-flops she kept stowed under the passenger seat, and got out of the car. She swooped her hair up into a ponytail as she walked, and by the time she reached the porch, Meri felt like herself.
For half a second, Meri expected her cousin Eli to come loping down the street, with his ready smile and another one of his corny jokes. But as she gazed at the empty blacktop, the truth hit her again like a brick. Eli was dead. He had died in the war, on some dusty road in Afghanistan, and he wasn’t coming back. Not now, not ever.
But his spirit was still here, in the clapboard houses and the big green trees and the happy birds chirping from their perches. In the trees he had planted years ago, the windows he’d helped Grandpa install, the gazebo he’d spent an entire winter building. Eli would have wanted Meri to be happy, to enjoy the day, whether it was short or long, and to never let her grief stew.
And she was going to try her best to do just that.
Meri charged up the bowed front steps and banged on the screen door. “Grandpa? It’s Meri!”
No response. She called again, but got only silence. Her stomach lurched. Was Grandpa sick? Had he passed out? Or...
She heard a sound from behind the house, and the fear and worry ebbed. She hurried down the steps, skirted the paint-weary house, ducking under the Spanish moss hanging from an oak tree, a genuine, light smile already on her face before she rounded the last corner.
“Grandpa Ray, you silly man,” she said with half a laugh, “don’t tell me you’re already ignoring the doctor’s—”
The words died in her throat. Her gaze skipped past her grandfather, napping in the Adirondack chair, and stopped when she saw the only man in Stone Gap she never wanted to see again.
Jack Barlow.
He stood there, a hundred feet from her grandpa, with an ax in one hand and a pile of chopped wood at his feet. He wore an old hunting cap, the camouflage brim tugged down over his short dark hair. His khaki shorts looked as if they’d been through a shredder, and his concert T-shirt was so faded that only the letters R and H showed, but still—
He looked good. She hated that he looked so...grown-up and confident and strong. And sexy. The Jack she remembered had been a gawky teenager just growing into his height. He’d headed out to boot camp, then on to the Middle East, and come back—
With the body of a Greek god.
He arched a brow in her direction and she cut her gaze away. Damn. He’d caught her staring.
Jack put down the ax, wiped the sawdust off his hands, then crossed to her. He’d gotten taller, leaner, more defined, and her traitor stomach did a funny little flip when he closed the gap between them. “Figured it was only a matter of time before trouble showed up,” he said.
“Nice to see you, too, Jack.”
He grinned, that lopsided smile that had once melted her heart. It didn’t have one bit of impact on her now. Not one bit. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.”
She raised her chin. “I’ve changed, Jack Barlow. More than you know.”
His gaze lit on the scar swooping along her cheek. Her heart clutched and she held her breath. Something haunted his eyes, something darker, edgier, different than anything she had ever seen before. For a second she felt a tether extend between them. Then his gaze jerked away and the connection flitted off with the summer breeze.
“I think we both have, Meri,” he said, his voice low.
“Some things will never be the same, will they?” She thought of her cousin, who had gone off to war a little after Jack did, tagging along with his best friend, just as he had when they’d been little and he’d followed Jack to the creek, the lake, whatever adventure the day had in store.
Two had left. One had returned.
Did that thought break Jack’s heart as much as her own? They’d been inseparable as kids. Trouble triplets, her grandmother used to say with a smile. Not having Eli here was like missing a limb.
“I’ve got work to do.” Jack picked up the ax and went back to the pile of wood. He swung the metal into the stumps with furious whacks, and kept his back to her, wearing that look of concentration that she knew as well as she knew her own eyes. Message clear: conversation over and done.
One thing was sure—the charming Jack Barlow she had known in high school was gone. There was something about this new Jack, something dark, that she didn’t recognize. Was it because of what he’d gone through in the military? Was it the loss of Eli, who had been a best friend to both of them for so many years?
Either way, the turned back and the clipped notes in Jack’s voice threw up a big No Trespassing sign, one Meri intended to honor. She was here for her grandfather, not to solve decade-old mysteries. And definitely not to get involved again with the guy who had seen her as nothing more than a vapid, pretty face.
She strode across the lawn and bent down by her grandfather’s chair. Meri pressed a kiss to his soft cheek, trying to hide her alarm at how thin, how pale, how frail her once hearty grandfather had gotten. He seemed to be shrinking into himself, this once robust man who used to carry her on his shoulders.
His eyes fluttered open, and then he smiled and grasped her hand with his own. Joy shone in his pale green eyes, gave his wan face a spark of color beneath his short white hair. Behind him, the vast Stone Gap Lake sparkled and danced the sun’s reflections off Grandpa Ray’s features. “Merry Girl,” he said, stroking his palm tenderly against her scar, a momentary touch filled with love. “You’re here. How’s my favorite granddaughter?”
“Sassy and smart, as always.”
He laughed. “You know what tames sassy?”
“Sugar,” she replied to the familiar dialogue. Every time he’d seen her, for as long as Meri could remember, Grandpa Ray had asked her the same question and she’d given the same replies. The exchange always ended with the same sweet reward—a handful of miniature chocolate bars.
He gave her a wink and a nod. “I still have a bowl full of candies on the dining room table, waiting just for you.” He grinned. “And Jack, if you care to share.”
She wasn’t sharing anything with Jack Barlow. Not now, not in the future. He was a complication she hadn’t expected, but a complication she could surely avoid.
“Me? Share chocolate? Grandpa, you forget who you’re talking to.” Behind her, she could hear the steady whoosh-thwap-thud of Jack’s ax splitting wood. Jack was here, helping her grandfather, something he had done for as long as she could remember. Back when they were kids, it had been Jack and Eli, spending their hours after school and weekends helping Grandpa Ray, then dashing into the lake to wash away the sawdust and sweat. For all the heartbreak Jack Barlow had brought to her life, he’d brought something very good to her grandfather’s and for that, she was grateful. That little flutter earlier—all due to being surprised at seeing him, nothing more.
Last she’d heard, he was still in the military, fighting overseas. But judging by his appearance here and the buzz cut that was growing out, he was no longer the property of the US government. Not that she cared. At all. Then why did her mind keep reaching back to that moment in Gator’s Garage? The painful months after their breakup when she’d tried to forget Jack Barlow and his lopsided grin?
Whoosh-thwap-thud. Whoosh-thwap-thud.
Given the fast and furious pace Jack was attacking the wood, maybe she wasn’t the only one trying to pretend that running into each other meant nothing.
Meri blew out a breath and dismissed the thought. Jack Barlow was in her past, the last place Meri wanted to visit. “After this morning, I could use every last chocolate in that bowl, Grandpa.”
Grandpa Ray chuckled. “Been visiting your mother?”
“I thought she might have changed. But...” Meri shook her head. She’d done her daughterly duty and gone to Anna Lee’s house. That was enough. “Anyway, I’m not here to talk about her. I want to talk about how you’re doing.”
“I’m still warming a seat.” He grinned. “That’s all I’m asking from the Lord these days.”
Her chest tightened, and she felt tears burn the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away and gave Grandpa Ray a smile. She perched on the edge of the opposite chair and took his hands in hers. “I’ll be here, as long as you want.”
“I’d like that, Merry Girl.” His voice wavered a bit and his hand tightened on hers. “I’d like that very much.”
She sat back against the chair, turning her face to the North Carolina sun. It warmed her in a way nothing else ever had or ever would. Here, in the backyard of this run-down little bungalow, among the trees and grass and birds, she was home, at peace. Here, she could breathe, for the first time in a long, long time. “Me, too, Grandpa. Me, too.”
Then she heard the whoosh-thwap-thud again. Her gaze traveled back to Jack, down the muscles rippling along his back and shoulders, and the flutter returned.
Finding peace was going to be a lot harder than she’d expected.
Chapter Two (#ulink_5bd64cb9-450c-572a-b2be-00fcf5fdf163)
Forgetting. It wasn’t something Jack Barlow did easily.
When he was a kid, his grandmother used to tease him about his incredible memory. Looking back, he didn’t think that he had such a great memory as much as a penchant for paying attention to details. That had served him well when he worked in his father’s garage and needed to reassemble an engine, and when he’d been on patrol in Afghanistan. In those cases, lives depended upon noticing the smallest things out of place. Still, there were days when he cursed his mind and wished the days would become a blur, the details a blank.
A car door slammed somewhere outside the garage. Jack flinched, oriented his attention in the direction of the sound, adrenaline rushing through his body. To anyone else, it was just a car door, but Jack’s brain jogged left instead of right, and in that second, he saw the bright light of the explosion detonating, heard the roaring thunder blasting into the Humvee, then the spray of metal arcing out and away from the impact. Through the floorboards, the passenger seat, up and into—
Eli.
Jack squinted his eyes shut, but it didn’t erase the sounds of Eli’s agonizing screams, didn’t wipe away the sight of his blood on the truck, on Jack, on everything. Didn’t make him forget watching Eli’s big brown eyes fading from light to glass. Jack shut his eyes, but still all he saw was the moment when he’d turned the truck east instead of west, and the shrapnel intended for Jack hit his best friend instead.
Goddamn.
Jack took in a breath, another, but still his heart jackhammered in his chest, and his lungs constricted. Sweat plastered his shirt, washing him hot, then cold. The wave began to hit him hard, fast, like a riptide, dragging him under, back to that dark place again.
Blowing out a breath, he unclenched his fists and opened his eyes. He stared up at the underside of the Monte Carlo. The snake lines of the exhaust, the long rectangle of the oil pan. Inhaled the scent of grease, felt the hard, cold concrete beneath his palms. Listened to the sounds of passing traffic. Reality.
Finally, Jack pushed himself out from under the car and into the cool, dim expanse of the garage. He rubbed the tired out of his eyes, worked to uncoil the tension that came from snatching a few minutes of sleep every hour. But still the memories stayed, a panther in the shadows.
Ever since he’d come home from the war, Jack had done the only thing he could—worked until he couldn’t stay awake. He divided his days between his father’s garage and Ray’s cottage, because it was only when he was immersed in a disabled engine or surrounded by a stack of unchopped wood that he could pull his mind away.
Away from the past. Away from the mistakes he had made. Away from his own guilt.
And now, away from Meri. He hadn’t expected to see her—not today, not ever—and the encounter had left him a little disconcerted, unnerved. Meri represented everything he wanted to put behind him, everything he wanted to forget—
And couldn’t.
How the hell was he supposed to tell her the truth? Tell her that he was the one who should have protected Eli, who should have made damned sure Eli, with his perpetual smile, was the one who came home? How could Jack ever look in Meri’s eyes and admit the truth?
That it was Jack’s fault Eli had died. Jack’s, and no one else’s.
He threw the wrench in his hands at the workbench. It pinged off the wooden leg and boomeranged into his shin. Jack let out a long string of curses, but it didn’t ease one damned bit of the pain.
“Whew. I’m impressed. I usually only hear language like that when the Yankees lose.”
Jack turned, grabbing a rag to wipe off the worst of the grease on his hands, and to give him another second to collect himself, push that panther back into the shadows a little more. His brother Luke stood just inside the garage, looking as though he’d just come from the beach, or a vacation, or both. His brown hair had that lightened tint that came from too much time in the sun, and Jack suspected his brother’s khaki shorts had more sand in the pockets than dollars. Unlike their eldest brother, Mac, who worked so much the brothers had nicknamed him Batman because of how rarely he showed up at family events. “You here to help me change out that transmission?”
Luke laughed. “Work? That’s against my religion.”
Jack leaned against the tool chest and tossed the rag on a nearby bench. “Funny, I don’t remember laziness being a lesson in Sunday school.”
“That’s because you and Mac were too busy trying to compete for teacher’s pet.” Luke reached into the small fridge by the door, pulled out two sodas and tossed one to Jack.
Jack popped the top and took a long swallow of the icy drink. “And you were too busy trying to ditch.”
Luke grinned. “Something I have perfected as an adult.”
Jack snorted agreement. He swiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and propped a foot against the front bumper of the ’87 Monte Carlo. The car had more miles on it than Methuselah had kids, but longtime customer Willie Maddox refused to junk the Great White Whale. The car was big and loud but classic and sporty, and Willie babied his ride like Evangeline Millstone babied her overdressed, overindulged Chihuahua. Hence the new transmission in the Great White Whale, and a decent payday for the garage. Ever since their dad’s knee replacement surgery, Jack had been shouldering the garage—and that meant shouldering the responsibility for his father’s income. Another week or so and Bobby Barlow would be back in the garage.
“What do you say you knock off early and we head down to Cooter’s for a couple beers?”
“It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, Luke.”
“All the more reason to celebrate.” Luke tipped his soda in Jack’s direction. “Come on, you workaholic. The world isn’t going to fall apart if you close down the shop a couple hours early. Besides, I hear Meri Prescott is back in town. All the more reason to grab a beer with me.”
Jack scowled. “What does Meri being back in town have to do with anything?”
“You telling me you aren’t interested?” He arched a brow. “Or horny?”
“Jesus, Luke, let it go.” Jack tossed the empty soda into the trash, grabbed the wrench and slid back under the Monte Carlo. He tightened a bolt and waited for the sounds of his brother leaving. Instead, a pair of familiar sneakers appeared in his peripheral vision.
“You still gonna stick to the I’m not interested in her line?”
“We dated a million years ago.” Eight, his mind corrected. “Of course I’m not interested.”
Yeah, right. Given the way he’d reacted to seeing her yesterday, and how many times his mind had wandered to thoughts of her, not interested was far from the truth. Either way, it didn’t matter.
Because getting involved with Meri would mean telling her what had happened to her cousin on that battlefield, and that was one thing Jack couldn’t do. Hell, he could barely handle the truth himself. Diving into that deep, dark corner of his mind would pull him down into the abyss, and right now he was barely clinging to the edge.
“Just leave me the hell alone, Luke. I have work to do.” There were days when he was glad neither Luke nor Mac had taken to working in the garage. Start talking alternators, and his brothers found other things to do.
It took a while, but eventually Luke’s feet moved out of Jack’s line of vision, then out of the garage. Quiet descended over the darkened world beneath the Monte Carlo and Jack told himself it brought him peace.
Seems he was just as good at lying as he was at forgetting.
