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Meri parked in the lot outside of Betty’s Bakery, a kissing cousin to George’s Deli—a husband-and-wife restaurant venture that had been a staple in downtown Stone Gap for as long as Meri could remember. Every time she saw the bakery and deli, she thought of her cousin Eli, who had worked summers and weekends here with his parents, and who never failed to bring home treats after his shift. Out of all the people Meri had known in the world, Eli had been the most gracious, most giving and most loving. There wasn’t a person in Stone Gap who hadn’t thought of him as halfway to a saint. When he’d died, it was as if something good and bright had left the world, leaving a sad dimness behind. Here, Meri could still feel Eli’s presence. That was nice.
Meri’s aunt Betty—her mother’s younger and sassier sister—and uncle George Delacorte loved creating food, loved sharing food with their customers, friends and families, but didn’t love working side by side, so when their first food venture, a small restaurant they ran together, failed, they moved into two locations as a way to keep the peace in their marriage. Betty provided the baked goods for George’s sandwiches, and he kept her stocked with disposable flatware and paper plates. It was, Betty often said, a marriage made in Fleischmann’s Yeast.
Aunt Betty and Uncle George had always been jovial people, a trait that Eli had had in abundance. The loss of their only son had dimmed their spirits, but not their giving to the community, Meri saw. Each of the shops sported an American flag, proudly waving in the wind. The front window of the deli held a service star, the blue star changed to a gold one, to represent a fallen soldier.
Meri’s heart clenched. She got out of the car and went into Betty’s first. The scent of fresh-baked bread and muffins greeted her at the door. Her stomach growled in what her mother would call a most unladylike manner. God, everything smelled so good, so decadent. For a second, the automatic response of I can’t have that dinged in her head. How many years had she resisted desserts and second helpings and carbohydrates?
“Well, as I live and breathe!” Betty came bustling around the counter, her arms outstretched, her generous hourglass frame outlined with a bright pink apron. “Meri! You are a sight for sore eyes!”
“Oh, Aunt Betty, you, too.” Meri returned Betty’s boisterous hug, enveloped by the scents of cinnamon and vanilla and homecoming. She had spent many an afternoon at this bakery, watching Betty make everything from doughnuts to rye bread, soaking up the scents of decadent foods along with her aunt’s offbeat wisdom. She glanced around the homey space. “I still half expect Eli to walk through the door every time I come here.”
“Me, too, sweetheart. Lord, I miss that boy.” Aunt Betty shook her head and her eyes welled. Her gaze lingered on a drawing tacked to the wall, a hand sketch of an indigo bunting, a bright blue bird that Eli had always said was a sign of good things to come. For as long as Meri had known him, her cousin had sketched the wildlife in Stone Gap. The two of them had taken many hikes over the years, she with her camera, he with a sketch pad. Aunt Betty looked at the drawing for a long time, her fingers fluttering over her lips. “He was my heart, don’t you know? A mother should never have to bury her son.”
Meri nodded, her throat too thick for words. The indigo bunting just stared back from its pencil perch.
Aunt Betty swiped at her eyes and worked a smile to her face. “Well, no more of that. I can just hear Eli now. ‘Mama, save your crying for another day. The sun is out, and that’s reason enough to smile.’”
“I swear, I never saw him depressed a day in his life.”
Aunt Betty’s smile wobbled. “He brought everyone who knew him a lot of joy. I’m sure he’s got every angel in heaven laughing as we speak.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it for a second. Probably pranking the Holy Ghost, too.”
That made Aunt Betty laugh. “True, so true.” She drew back and eyed Meri. “How are you doing, honey pie?”
The concern made tears well in Meri’s eyes. Her aunt understood her so well, a thousand times better than Anna Lee ever had. “I’m doing fine. Especially now that I’m back in town.”
“To stay?”
Meri shook her head. “To visit. Eventually I’ll need to get back to my photography job.” Assuming, that was, that she could ever get over her fears to do her job. She’d hoped that coming here, where the world seemed put to rights, would give her back the magic she had lost.
“I saw some of your photographs in a magazine, and Eli used to send them to me over the computer all the time. Such amazing talent you have, Meri.” Aunt Betty beamed.
“Eli shared them with you?”
“Of course. He was proud as punch that his cousin was taking the world by storm in the big city. Thought you were the next Ansel Adams. Can’t say I disagreed.”
Meri reached out and drew her aunt into a tight, warm hug. “Thank you, Aunt Betty. That means a lot, coming from you.”
The unspoken message—Anna Lee would have to be on her deathbed to say such a thing. There were many days when Meri wondered how her life would have been different had she been born into Aunt Betty and Uncle George’s house instead of Anna Lee’s castle on Cherrystone.
As if reading Meri’s mind, Aunt Betty shifted the conversation to Anna Lee. “Word has it that you’re staying out at Ray’s, in the guest cottage. Your mother is positively mortified. She feels like you’re, and I quote, ‘besmirching the family’s good name’ by refusing her hospitality.”
“I didn’t refuse. I made another choice.”
Betty cupped Meri’s face with her generous palms. Unlike her mother, Betty didn’t flinch away from Meri’s scar, and in fact, barely seemed to give it notice. “A good choice. Don’t let my sister push you around. Lord knows she’s been trying to do that since the day you were born. I swear, if she could have, she’d have told the doctor how to arrange the maternity ward and what temperature to warm the formula.”
Meri gave Betty another hug, then drew back. “Thanks, Aunt Betty.”
“Anytime.” Betty swung back behind the counter and readied a white box. “Let me guess. You’re here for Ray’s daily muffin supply?”
“Yup. Then heading to Uncle George’s to pick up Grandpa’s favorite sandwich for dinner. I tried to talk him into some salmon with a side of spinach, but he was having none of that. Said the only thing that makes him feel better is Uncle George’s sandwiches for supper and your muffins in the morning.”
“Ray’s a smart man. But not smart enough to know I make those muffins with whole wheat flour and add some flaxseed to the sandwich bread.” Betty loaded a quartet of muffins into the box, closed the lid, then tied it with thin red string. “And what are you getting for you?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t.” The response came like a Pavlovian reflex.
“Yes, you should. And you can. And don’t tell me about calories or fat grams or any of that nonsense. Food is meant to be enjoyed, not ignored. And besides, you deserve it. Why, I bet you already dealt with your mother today.”
Meri nodded. “It was as much fun as I expected.”
“Then all the more reason to indulge. Talking to Anna Lee will drive you to either sugar or pharmaceuticals. My vote is for sugar.” Betty placed a chocolate cupcake covered with fluffy pink frosting in front of Meri. “Cupcakes are like good men. Taste them, savor them and never, ever ignore them or someone else will eat them right up.” She nudged the cupcake closer. “So, come on now, quick as a bunny, take a bite.”
Meri picked up the dessert, inhaling the rich notes of the chocolate and the sweet confection of the raspberry frosting. She hesitated, then blew out a breath and sank her teeth into the side. Frosting curved on her lip, chocolate cake crumbs dusted her chin, but the bite in her mouth melted like heaven against her palate. She zeroed in for a second bite, then paused when the shop door’s bell rang.
And Jack walked into the bakery.
She turned part of the way toward him, the cupcake cradled in one hand, the frosting on her lip. He caught her eye, and something warm and dark extended between them, a whisper of a memory that bloomed in her mind.
Jack, tempting her with a cupcake, the day before a pageant. Telling her the contraband treat would be worth every bite. She’d refused, shaking her head, her body quivering with desire for him, for the chocolate, for everything that she had denied herself for years. Then he’d swiped a dollop of frosting off the top, placed it against her lips, and she’d opened her mouth to taste it, to taste him. Jack’s gaze had captured hers, and in that next instant, the cupcake was forgotten, and she was tasting his mouth, his body, him.
He’d been the one to end it that day, pulling away from her, telling her she was right, that she had a pageant to prepare for, and she needed to focus on that. Even then, a week before they’d broken up, he’d been drawing the line in the sand between them.
Aunt Betty greeted him, and Jack said hello back, but his attention stayed on Meri.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
His gaze flicked to Betty, then away, and a shade dropped over his features. She could see him shutting the door, clear as day. Typical Jack—shut her out to whatever was going on inside his head.
“I’m surprised you’re still in town,” Jack said, instead of answering her question.
She bristled. “I just got here, Jack. I’m not going anywhere for a while.”
“Good.”
The single word surprised her, undid the ready fight in her head. “Why do you say that?”
“Because Ray won’t admit he needs a mother hen, but he does. And you’re the perfect person to tell him what to do.”
“Are you saying I’m bossy?”
A half smile curved across his face. “Darlin’, you’ve always been bossy.”
Something about the way he said darlin’ sent heat fissuring through her and made her think of the hot summer nights they’d spent together as teenagers, when temptation was their constant companion.
“I see you still love cupcakes,” Jack said, taking another step closer to her.
Heat pooled in her gut. God, how she wanted to just look into his blue eyes and fall all over again. But she already knew where this led, already knew how he truly felt about her.
She put the cupcake on the counter and swept the frosting from her lips with the back of her hand. Who was she kidding? This wasn’t a chance to rewrite the past or show Jack she had changed. No, she wasn’t here for that. As even Jack had said, her main goal was restoring Grandpa Ray to health. Besides, whatever she might have felt for Jack Barlow when she was a silly teenage girl had evaporated that day in the garage, as fast as rain on hot tar. “I don’t think I ever loved them,” she said. “I just thought I did.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_8136d136-9856-5391-beff-9ebbc78f84ba)
Jack pounded out six hard and fast miles on the back roads of Stone Gap. The late-evening heat beat down on him, sweat pouring down his back, but he didn’t slow his pace. His punishing daily routine drove the demons back, so he kept on running until his body was spent and his throat was clamoring for water.
What had he been thinking, walking into the bakery yesterday? Did he think this time, finally, he’d get the courage to say what he needed to say? Once a week he stopped in to either Betty’s or George’s, and every time the words stayed stuck in his throat.
Then, seeing Meri with that little bit of frosting on her lip derailed all his common sense. For a moment, he had been eighteen again, half in love with her and thinking the world was going to go on being perfect and pure. Until he’d gone to war and learned differently.
Damn. Just going into that bakery hurt like hell, and he’d let himself get swept up in a past—a fantasy—that no longer existed. A mistake he wouldn’t make again. Add it to the long list of mistakes Jack never intended to make again.
Luke was sitting on the front porch of Jack’s cottage in the woods when Jack got back. “You look like you’re about ready to keel over.”
Jack braced his palms on his knees and drew in a deep breath. Another. A third. “I’ll be fine.”
Luke scoffed, got to his feet and shoved a water bottle under Jack’s nose. “Here, you need this more than me.”
Jack thanked his brother, then straightened and chugged the icy beverage. “What are you doing here? Not that I don’t appreciate the water, but this makes two days in a row that I’ve seen you. I didn’t see you that much when we lived in the same house.”
Luke shrugged. “Mama’s worried about you. Mac is off in the big city, pretending we don’t exist, working his fingers to the bone, so that leaves me as the designated caretaker.”
“In other words, she got desperate.”
“I prefer to call it smart.”
Jack scoffed. He drained the rest of the water, recapped the bottle, then three-pointed it into the recycle bin. “I gotta go to work.”
Luke stepped in front of him and blocked his path. “Promise me you’ll be at dinner on Sunday night. Mama said she’d tan us both if you don’t come.”
“First of all, the last time Mama spanked either of us was when you were six and you stole candy from the general store. You cried, she cried and she never spanked us again. Second of all, I am quite capable of eating on my own. I don’t need to show up for the whole family-meal dog and pony show.”
“Since when has dinner at Mama’s been a dog and pony show?” Luke gave Jack’s shoulder a light jab. “And what’s up with you, anyway? Don’t tell me you like eating those TV dinners on the sofa better than homemade pot roast?”
“Since when did you become my keeper?” Jack shook his head. “I’m busy, Luke. I don’t have time for this. I gotta get to the garage.”
Luke stood there a moment longer, as if he wanted to disagree but had run out of arguments. A part of Jack wanted Luke to drag him to dinner at Mama’s, because maybe being forced to be among the rest of the world would keep that panther at bay. Or maybe it would unleash the damned thing and Jack would ruin the only good he had left in his life.
“Fine, have it your way,” Luke said. “Enjoy your Hungry-Man dinners.”
His brother left, and Jack headed into the little house on Stone Gap Lake that he’d rented when he came home from the war. It wasn’t much as houses went, but it was set in the woods at the end of a desolate street, a mile as the crow flew from Ray’s house. If there was one thing Jack didn’t want, it was friendly neighbors who’d be popping by with a casserole or an earful of gossip. His mother had wanted him to stay in the family home, but the thought of being around all that...caring suffocated him. He’d rented the first house he found, and told his mother he’d be fine.
He heard the crunch of tires on the road and readied a sarcastic retort for Luke as he headed back onto the porch, where the word died in his throat. Meri sat behind the wheel of a dusty Toyota, sunglasses covering the green eyes he knew so well, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She pulled into the drive, rolled down the window, but didn’t turn off the car.
“I need your help. Grandpa Ray is fixing to climb a ladder and clean out the gutters, and refuses to wait for you to help him. He wouldn’t let me so much as touch the ladder, and I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself.”
Jack let out a curse. “I told him I’d do that tonight, after I got done at the garage.”
“You know him. When he wants something done, he wants it done now.” She tucked the sunglasses on top of her head. Worry etched her face, shimmered in her eyes. “Can you help? I mean, if you’re busy or something—”
“I’m not busy.” Not busy enough, he should have said. Never busy enough. But Ray needed him, and if there was one man Jack would help without question, it was Ray. And with Meri looking at him like that, as though she’d pinned all her hopes on his shoulders...a part of him wanted to tell her to find someone else. Instead he said, “Give me five minutes to get cleaned up.”
“Sure.” She put the car in Park. “Thanks, Jack.”
He started toward the house, then the nagging chivalry his mother had instilled in him halted Jack’s steps. He turned back to Meri. “Uh, you want to come in? Have some iced tea or something? You shouldn’t wait in the car in heat like this.”
She hesitated a moment. Probably weighing the environment-damaging effects of running the car in Park for a few minutes versus the risks of being around him. “Sweet tea?”
He grinned. “Is there another kind?”
She got out of the car, one long leg at a time. She was wearing cutoff denim shorts and flip-flops, topped with a V-necked blue T-shirt. On Meri, the casual attire seemed sexier than the elegant dresses she’d worn in her pageants. It seemed more...Meri, if that made sense. More real. Prettier.
Damn.
All these years, and he still wanted her now as much as he had then. Back then, he’d been young and stupid and rash. He’d believed anything was possible in those days. That the world could be set to rights with a lot of laughter and a sweet kiss from her lips.
He knew better now. He knew about dark days and bad decisions and regrets that ran so deep they had scarred his soul. And so he looked away from Meri’s legs and Meri’s smile and headed into the house.
“Kitchen’s over there,” he said, pointing down the hall. “I’ll be done in a couple minutes.”
It wasn’t until he was standing beneath the bracing cold water of his shower, the droplets pelting his face, his neck, his shoulders, that Jack could breathe. He pressed his hands against the wall and dropped his head, letting the water rush over his skin until all he could feel was cold.
He stepped out of the shower, dried off and tugged open a dresser drawer. Almost empty. Maybe it was about time he got his crap together and did some laundry. He reached for a ratty T, then stopped when his hand brushed over a worn khaki cotton T, stuffed at the bottom of the pile after his last tour, forgotten until now.
Memories clawed at him. Reminded him exactly why he had rented a house in the woods by the lake, far from the rest of the world. Far from people like Meri.
People who would ask questions like why. Questions he couldn’t even answer for himself.
Jack cursed, grabbed the nearest plain shirt and slammed the drawer shut again. He finished getting dressed, then headed out of his bedroom. He’d help Ray and stay the hell away from Meri. The last thing he wanted was to have a conversation with her, one where she’d ask about Eli.
The only other person who knew about that day was Jack’s commanding officer, who had taken his report, then mercifully left him alone in his grief. Jack had served out the last month of his tour on autopilot, a shell of himself, then come home and done what the psychologist told him to do—tried to put it all behind him and move on.
Move on? Where the hell to?
Meri was standing in the kitchen, her back to him, looking out the back door. Her lean frame was silhouetted by the morning sun streaming in through the windows. His heart stuttered, but he kept moving forward, ignoring the urge to touch her, to get close to her. “You ready?”
She turned and a smile curved across her face. “There’s a deer in your yard,” she whispered with a sense of awe and magic in her voice. “A fawn.”
He moved to stand beside Meri. And just as she’d said, there was a deer standing like a brown slash among the green foliage. The fawn had the speckled back of a youngster, and the relaxed stance of one too new to know the dangers that lurked in the woods. He nosed at the shrubs, nibbling the leafy green delicacies.
“He’s so beautiful,” Meri said.
“He’s too trusting. If he doesn’t pay attention, some hunter or a loose dog is going to get him.”
She cast a glance at him. “That’s pretty pessimistic.”
“Realistic, Meri. There’s a difference.” He nodded toward the window. “I’m surprised you don’t have your camera out. You were always taking pictures of this or that when you were younger.”
