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She’d meant more to him than anyone else in the world, and he’d bungled things, big-time. Stomped on her already broken heart like a mad elephant. Worse, he’d never apologized, never explained, never tried to fix what he’d broken, partly because, at twenty-one, he had no clue how to do that.
But mainly because … he’d wanted her. And what kind of perv did that make him?
Groaning, Ryder let his head fall back, his own still-bruised heart throbbing inside his chest. This was the last thing he needed, to have that particularly egregious period of his life return to chomp his behind when his heart was still so sore. But chomp, it had.
He’d never expected to see Mel again, never imagined he’d have the opportunity to tell his side of the story. Not that there was any guarantee she’d even want to hear it after all this time. Nor would he blame her.
However—he finally started the car, eased down the road that led to his parents’ house, on the other side of the cove—he did want to hear Mel’s side. Which would be the side, he thought as bile rose in his throat, that explained how she’d come to have his brother’s baby.
“You told him?” Knowing, and not caring, that she probably looked as though she’d been goosed, Lorraine Caldwell gaped at her husband as a brutal cocktail of emotions threatened to knock her right on her fanny. “Are you out of your mind?”
Settled into his favorite wing-chair in the wood-paneled den, the dogs dozing at his feet, David swirled his two fingers of Scotch in his glass and shrugged. Even after nearly thirty-five years of marriage, Lorraine still hadn’t decided if his unflappability soothed her or unnerved her. Until she remembered they probably wouldn’t still be married otherwise, considering … things. Things not given a voice for more than three decades, but which still occasionally shimmered between them like a ghost that refused to move on. Now, underneath blue eyes that had knocked her off her feet as a girl, a slight smirk told her that he had the upper hand. And wasn’t about to let it go.
“And if you remember I was the one who said you were out of your mind, thinking you could keep this a secret.”
David hadn’t exactly been on board with the arrangement, Lorraine thought with a mix of aggravation and—dare she admit it?—admiration. Now. Then, however …
“She wasn’t supposed to come back! Especially with … She lowered her voice, despite their being alone. Even though they hadn’t had full time help in years, old habits die hard. “The child. That was the agreement.”
“Clearly you didn’t consider all eventualities. Believe it or not, Lorraine, you can’t control the entire world.”
Lorraine’s eyes burned. The entire world? There was a laugh. How about even her own tiny corner of it? “For heaven’s sake, David—maybe they wouldn’t even have run into each other. Why on earth did you jump the gun?”
“Because,” he said, standing, “it didn’t feel right to leave it to chance. Catching Ryder off guard if they did cross paths. Besides, aren’t you even curious about her?”
Talking about being caught off guard. Lorraine sucked in a breath: she’d never, not once, indulged herself in pointless “what ifs?” After all, she’d made the best decision, the only decision, she could have made at the time. A decision circumstances had forced her to make. To change the rules now—
“What about Jeremy?” she said, grasping at rapidly disintegrating straws. “And Caroline. They’ve only been married six months—” At her husband’s quelling look, Lorraine blew out a sigh. “What if Ryder confronts him? Did you think of that?”
“I imagine he will,” David said with a shrug. “Hell, I was all for making the boy own up to his idiocy at the time—”
“Then why didn’t you?” Ryder said quietly from the doorway, making Lorraine jump.
David waved his nearly empty glass in her direction. “Ask your mother.”
Wordlessly, Ryder turned his gaze on her, his hands shoved into the pockets of that awful old windbreaker he’d had since college. Whereas her younger son had always been given to flying off the handle—her fault, she supposed—Ryder had always been the even-tempered one, even as a toddler. Just like his father. That had unnerved her, too, his seeming imperviousness to anything that would try to unseat him. Now, however, Lorraine could tell by the glint in his dark brown eyes, the hard set to his beard-hazed jaw—another “style” also picked up in college—that his customary calm masked an anger so intense she almost couldn’t look at him.
Especially since that angry gaze relentlessly poked at the guilt she’d done her best to ignore for the past ten years.
Secrets, she thought on an inward wince. You would think she’d have learned her lesson the first time, wouldn’t you?
Apparently not.
Ryder watched his mother, still attractive in an old-money, take-me-as-you-find-me way, sink into the sofa’s down-filled cushions, sighing when one of the dogs heaved herself to her feet and plodded over to lay her head in his mother’s lap. A pair of silver clips held her fading red curls back from her sharply boned face; in her rust-colored cardigan, jeans and flats, she gave off a certain Kate Hepburn vibe most people found intimidating. And, to a certain extent, fascinating.
Most people. Not Ryder.
“Well?” he prompted.
She distractedly traced the design of the Waterford lamp beside her before folding her hands on her lap. “The thing between Jeremy and Mel … we had no idea. None. Until Maureen marched Mel in here—into this very room, in fact—that fall and announced that Mel was pregnant.” His mother shot a brief glance in his direction. “Frankly, we assumed the baby was yours.” Her mouth twisted. “Until we did the math.”
Too angry to speak, Ryder crossed his arms high on his chest. “And when you realized it wasn’t?”
“Jeremy was barely eighteen,” his mother said, her gaze fixed on the golden retriever’s smooth head as she stroked it. “He’d just started at Columbia …” She pushed out a truncated sigh. “It was perfectly obvious it was all a mistake. That it meant nothing. To him, especially, but even Mel admitted …”
When Lorraine looked away, Ryder prodded, “Mel admitted what?”
“That she didn’t love Jeremy. Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ryder—don’t look at me like that. It was a silly summer fling, nothing more. A silly summer fling with dire consequences,” his mother finished on a grimace. “But then, Jeremy could hardly be blamed, could he? Not with the way M-Mel kept flaunting herself in those short shorts and tight tops—”
As in, cut-offs and T-shirts. Same as every other high school girl wore.
“And that bathing suit—”
“So, what? She’s automatically the guilty party because she grew breasts?”
Twin dots of pink bloomed on his mother’s cheeks. “Of course not. But she didn’t have to be so, so blatant about them. She could have dressed less … enticingly. I mean, you know your brother—”
Behind them, his father huffed out a breath. “Lorraine, for pity’s sake.”
“Well, it’s true. She played right into his hand.”
“Literally,” Ryder muttered, his own fisting inside his pockets. “You know, being neither blind nor gay, I was pretty aware of Mel’s … assets, too. Assets she didn’t flaunt any more than any other girl her age. Less, in fact, than most. That bathing suit—sure, it showed off her curves, but we’re not talking a string bikini, for heaven’s sake.” Ryder glowered at his mother. “Yeah, I know Jeremy. But I would’ve thought …”
His mother stood. “You can’t lay this whole thing at his feet, Ryder. Even though I know you’d love to do that. I never did understand why the two of you never got along, which is one reason we decided it was better to keep this from you. Because I knew how much it would hurt you, that Mel …” At Ryder’s glare, Lorraine pressed her lips together, shaking her head.
“However, I refused to let one mistake derail Jeremy’s plans. Not after he’d had to work so hard to get into Columbia. So we struck a deal—one Maureen agreed to, by the way—that in exchange for our financial support they’d leave St. Mary’s for good and we’d never speak of any of this again.”
As livid as he was, Ryder felt his eyes narrow. Something was off. Not so much what his mother was saying but how she was saying it. But right now he just wanted the facts.
“So it never occurred to you to make Jeremy own up to his part in this?”
“At eighteen? What on earth was he supposed to do?”
“And Mel was sixteen. Something tells me she definitely got the short end of the stick—”
“I tried to make her see reason!” his mother said, and he caught the flash of desperation in her eyes. “To explore her … options, but she was having none of it. She insisted on having, and keeping, the baby, although for the life of me I never understood why. That was her choice, Ryder. Our choice—”
“Was to let my brother off the hook by sweeping the whole thing under the rug?”
“There’s a trust fund for the child. And we sent enough money through the years so they were never in any danger of starving. We honored our obligations, believe me. In the way we best saw fit. Your sister-in-law has no idea, by the way. And we’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her. It could ruin their marriage. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that on your conscience.”
Ryder smirked: although the news had gobsmacked him, nothing coming out of his mother’s mouth now surprised him in the least. To say Lorraine Caldwell was a control freak didn’t even begin to cover it. As far back as Ryder could remember his mother had ruled the household—in her childhood home, the estate having belonged to her surgeon father, her D.C.-socialite mother, long before she’d married the gentle GP who’d stolen her heart, as lore would have it, that summer when she was nineteen. As far as Ryder could tell she’d been Daddy’s spoiled little princess who’d seen no reason to change her modus operandi—as in, always getting her way—when she grew up. That she still seemed to have his father, as she’d had her own, so tightly wound around her little finger was a mystery he doubted he’d ever solve.
Except Ryder now looked to his father, seeing for the first time in David’s chagrined, embarrassed expression the older man’s constant acquiescence to his mother’s whims for what it was—weakness, pure and simple. For God’s sake, grow a pair! he wanted to shout, even as his heart cracked a little more, that the man he’d so wanted to believe in, look up to, apparently didn’t really exist. For his dedication to his work, his patients, Ryder would always admire him. But respect him as a man? As someone he could count on to do the right thing?
Not so much.
Disheartened, he thought back to that silent promise he’d made to that chubby, bald, two-day-old baby, to look out for her. Protect her. Only he’d no idea at the time it would be his own family he’d have to protect her from. Or at the very least, try to undo ten years’ worth of damage.
“No,” he said to his mother. “I swear I won’t breathe a word to Caroline. That’s not my place, it’s Jeremy’s. Whose conscience, frankly, could use a good swift kick in the ass. But whatever. However, now that I know I have a niece, you better believe she’s going to know at least one member of this family gives a damn about her.”
“And what if Mel isn’t on board with that idea?”
He looked from one to the other. “That’s between Mel and me. Because you two officially have nothing more to say about it.”
Chapter Two
All that food in the house, and Mel and Quinn both decided they’d rather have stir-fry. Go figure. But at least by the time they finished shopping at the only decent supermarket in town, she’d stopped looking over her shoulder, convinced Ryder—or worse, one of his parents—was going to appear at the end of every aisle. She’d driven by the clinic, seen his name beside his father’s; a quick Google search on her phone revealed that Jeremy was a junior partner at some hot-shot law firm in New York.
“Hey, Virginia plates,” Quinn said as Mel’s headlights stabbed at the weather-and-time ravaged house, as well as the late model Lexus parked in the driveway. The rain had finally let up, although it had turned bone-chillingly cold. Welcome to early fall on the Eastern Shore. “Whose car is that?”
“I’m gonna guess April’s,” Mel said, all bittersweet ache at the prospect of seeing her cousin again after more than a decade. She and April had chatted briefly the day before, but only long enough to coordinate their schedules. And unleash a boatload of memories.
And laughter.
We were happy here, Mel thought on a smile, even as the backs of her sinuses twinged. She’d been happy here, during those summers when Amelia called enough of a truce with Mel’s mother to allow Mel to hang out in the rambling old house with her close-in-age cousins. Summer sisters, they’d called themselves—
“Ohmigosh! There you are!”
In a flippy little plaid skirt and coordinating cardigan, April—still tiny and bubbly and strawberry blonde—burst out of the front door and down the steps before they’d even climbed out of the Honda, where she grabbed Mel in a hug hard enough to do damage, then let go to fan her now tear-streaked face.
“Honest to Pete,” Mel said, laughing, digging in her gargantuan purse for a pack of tissues which she handed to her cousin. “Still?”
“I know, I know, I’m terrible!” Gal always had cried at the drop of a hat. “But I can’t help it, it’s just so good to see you … wait,” she said, her soggy gaze turning to Quinn, standing off to one side. “Oh, my word—is that your little girl?”
“Little girl?” Mel said, pretending to look shocked. “What little girl? For heaven’s sake, she must’ve crawled in the backseat while I was at the store—”
“Mo-om, geez,” Quinn said. Rolling her eyes. Then she extended her hand to April. “I’m Quinn. The sane one—”
“Don’t you go giving me your hand—come here, sugar,” April said, hauling Quinn into her arms, and Mel’s own eyes watered. Yes, April had cried more than ten girls put together, but this was what Mel remembered most about her cousin, that she loved more than any human being she’d ever known. That her tenderheartedness was only surpassed by an unfeigned generosity that put most people to shame.
Then she noticed how the feeble porch light glinted off the tasteful, but impressive, array of diamonds on April’s ring finger. Between those and the car, Mel got the feeling her cousin was a lot better off than when they’d been kids. Not that they’d ever discussed such things, even when they were all old enough to figure out that while their grandmother obviously had money—then, at least—her three daughters had all somehow bounced well out of range of that particular tree.
“Aren’t you the prettiest thing?” April now said, holding Quinn at arm’s length before turning to Mel. “I take it she looks like her daddy, since I’m not seeing a whole lot of you in that face—”
“Quinn, let’s get this food out of the car,” Mel said, smartly going around to the trunk. “Stir-fry for dinner okay with you?”
April shot her a look, but took the hint and simply said, “Sure thing. I’m starved!”
Despite their earlier attack on the kitchen, the cloying dampness assaulted Mel’s nose as they carted the groceries through the conglomeration of dusty wicker and sisal and faded pastels hunched together on scabrous floors in the large gathering room, every surface obliterated by their grandmother’s “collections.” Dusty paintings hung askew on walls gone cobweb-gray; mismatched shelves bowed under the weight of hundreds, if not thousands, of books and DVDs and videotapes. At least there weren’t any cats.
That they’d found, at any rate.
“I had no idea the place had gone to seed like this,” April whispered to Mel as they loaded the bags onto the now disinfected pine table in the middle of the oversize kitchen. Quinn dumped her bags, as well, then took off to continue exploring. Mel was half tempted suit up the kid in hazmat attire. And maybe a cross.
“Seed, hell,” Mel muttered as she hauled two gallons of milk onto the top shelf of the fridge, which at least was no longer toxic. “The ancient Greeks had nothing on the civilizations growing in there.”
“So you’re saying it was worse?”
“Heh.” April stared at one of the kitchen chairs; Mel chuckled. “Your butt might smell like Pine-sol when you get up, but you’re good.”
“The lawyer said Nana died virtually broke,” her cousin said, sitting. “That the house … this was all that was left.”
“Because she clearly spent everything she had on crap she didn’t need,” Mel said. “Have you been upstairs yet?”
“After seeing the gathering room? I didn’t have the nerve. Not alone, anyway. And you let Quinn go up there?”
“She’s an intrepid soul, she’ll be fine.”
April sighed. “I cannot imagine how long it’s gonna take to sort through all this junk. Although I don’t suppose it was junk to Nana. And who knows? There might be some valuable stuff in amongst all that …” She waved her hand, searching for the right word.
“Trash? I seriously doubt it. Frankly, my vote is for lighting a match.” Mel lifted her hands. “Oops.”
“Bite your tongue,” her cousin said, coloring. “And you know she used to have good things. I remember the crystal. And the china. And some of the furniture dated back to when the house was built—”
“And sometimes, old is just old. April—the place is about to collapse, from what I can tell—”
“I’m sure most of it’s cosmetic!” At Mel’s snort, she added, “You mark my words, once we get it all cleared Out …” Her eyes filled. “We can bring it back to life, Mel. I’m sure of it.”
Too tired to argue, Mel changed the subject. “So … you’re married, huh?” April frowned slightly. Readying the veggies for slaughter on a cutting board in the middle of the kitchen table, Mel pointed to her cousin’s left hand with one of the knives she’d hauled from Baltimore. Because some things, a real cook doesn’t leave home without.
“Oh,” April said, touching the rings. “I am. Or rather, was. Clayton—my husband—died a few months ago.”
“Oh, God, honey—”
“It’s okay, he’d been ill for a long time.” Then she squinted up at the forlorn schoolhouse-style fixture dangling in the center of the room. “That has got to go.”
“And it will, when the flames reach the kitchen.” Mel clanged her iron skillet onto the gas range, turned the heat on high, then returned to the table. “I take it you don’t want to talk about your husband?”
“Not any more than you do the house, apparently.”
“I did talk about the house, I suggested we level it and collect the insurance. That, or turn it into an annual Halloween attraction.” At her cousin’s silence, she frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, my hiney.” Mel waved the knife in April’s direction. “I remember that look. All too well. That look spells trouble.”
On a soft laugh, April reached across the table to briefly squeeze Mel’s wrist, before grabbing a red pepper slice and nibbling on it. “It’s nice, being here with you again.”
“Ditto. Although … I’m not the same person I was then.”
“Who is?” April said on a sigh. “Even so, despite the clutter and the filth and wildlife I don’t even want to think about, being back here … it’s like time stood still. Not that I feel like when we were kids—and heaven knows I wouldn’t want to—but it’s like the me I am now can feel the me I was then looking over my shoulder. Didn’t expect that.” She paused, then said, “So did you keep up with Ryder or what?” When Mel shot her a what-the-hell look, April grinned. “It’s hardly an illogical question, Mel. Well?”
“No.”
“Really? I mean, I know how close you two were—”
“We were childhood buddies, that’s all,” Mel said, wondering if it was too late to bake something. As if that was a serious question. “Besides, he went off to med school, and Mama and I moved to Baltimore after Dad died, and … we lost touch—”
