8

 

 

Val pulled into a parking place, set the brake, and surveyed the small park. Not a soul in sight on this Sunday morn­ing.

Perfect.

If there’d been a bunch of strangers hanging around to witness her journey into the past she could have lost her nerve.

Leaning back in the seat, she scanned the cloudless late-June sky. The summer was flowing by as swiftly as the river below, and she hadn’t made any progress toward her goal. Simply being back in Washington, back in her childhood home, hadn’t proven to be the catalyst she’d expected.

Changing her environment—to one even less comfortable than the girlhood bedroom that held physical evidence of her dark se­cret—had seemed like a logical next step.

Now she wasn’t so certain.

Fighting back a wave of nausea, she surveyed the green expanse in front of her. It didn’t seem possible that eighteen years—almost two decades—had passed since her last visit here. Yet in some ways it felt like a lifetime ago.

If only she’d known then what she knew now.

But twenty-twenty hindsight wasn’t going to fix her current dilemma.

Bracing, Val pushed open her door and stood. Below, the winding path of the glistening river led to the distant horizon, the serenity and peace of the scene a stark contrast to her turbulent emotions.

She shut the door and scanned the grassy knoll, where a few unoccupied picnic tables were scattered. Later, the park would be filled with family groups, but if all went according to plan, she’d be long gone before the hoards descended.

The open area wasn’t her destination, anyway. That lay in a small cove at the base of the bluff, down by the river. On a Sunday morning, it would be populated only by memories.

She tightened her grip on the door, fighting the temptation to get back in her car and drive away as fast as she could. But she’d been running far too long. She had to deal with this.

Or at least make some progress.

Without giving herself a chance to entertain any more second thoughts, she strode toward the edge of the woods on the far side of the knoll. At first glance, the perimeter appeared to be nothing more than dense brush. Where was the entrance?

She did a second, slower scan. There. Some trampled undergrowth.

Pushing aside the brush, Val stepped into the shadows. Here, the path was clearer. Meaning it must still be a Saturday night gathering place for teens.

She hiked down the sloping trail, trying to avoid the brambles that clawed at her legs. Wearing sturdy jeans had been smart, but that didn’t help her bare arms. She slowed her pace as thorny tentacles snatched at her, cautiously brushing them aside. Per­haps the path wasn’t used quite as much as it had been in her day.

As she emerged from the woods onto a small, sandy beach at the river’s edge, she came to an abrupt halt.

It was like passing through a time warp.

The spot was exactly the same as the day she and Corey had come down here with three other couples for an end-of-the-summer picnic. The blackened remains of a campfire were surrounded by sturdy logs that had been deposited on the beach by the relentless motion of the river. Drift­wood lay about, and beer cans littered the sand. Cigarette butts were strewn around the logs, and small stones rimmed the water’s edge.

The only thing that had changed since her first—and only—visit was her.

Dread congealing in her belly, she forced herself to examine the first of the tiny crescent inlets that dotted the shore on either side of this main gathering place. The secluded nooks where kids disappeared, two by two, after they’d consumed their fill of liquor.

She and Corey among them.

She choked back her revulsion as the events of that long-ago summer night played out in her memory like a jerky old-fashioned home movie.

“See? I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about.” Corey scooted closer to her on the dead log and tipped back his third bottle of beer, chugging it down.

Wasn’t there? Val assessed the group that had gathered. Most of the kids were zoning out—giving credence to Mom’s gloom and doom warning about the rowdy parties rumored to take place here.

But Corey was leaving tomor­row for his freshman year at Northwestern. She wouldn’t see him again until Thanksgiving. After dating him all summer, how could she refuse his plea to attend tonight’s party?

Yet this didn’t feel right.

“Val.” He nudged her with his elbow and passed her a plastic cup. “Try this. It’ll put you in a party mood.”

She squinted at the clear liquid in the dim light of the campfire. “What is it?”

“Happy juice. Trust me on this.”

She took a sip. Coughed as it burned down her throat. “Yuck.”

He laughed. “It’ll grow on you. Don’t be a party pooper.”

Somehow she managed to choke it down, sip by sip. She couldn’t embarrass him in front of his friends by being a wet blanket.

Fifteen minutes later, cup drained, she was feeling relaxed and a little giddy. She even took a few drags on the cigarette someone passed her. Smoking had never appealed to her, but this wasn’t too bad. She took a few more. The conversation around her grew distant, and an odd, floaty sensation overtook her.

That was when Corey pulled her to her feet and suggested a walk. Not a bad idea. Some fresh air, away from the acrid smoke, should help clear the fuzziness from her brain.

She let him lead her down the beach, but less than a dozen yards from the party crowd he guided her into a tiny cove. From somewhere he produced a blanket. Spread it on the sand. Pulled her down beside him.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Val.”

“I know. I’ll miss you.”

“How much?”

“More than I can say.”

“Then show me. ”

It started as a kiss…and grew from there

All at once, they were lying down and Corey was tugging her T-shirt out of her shorts.

Alarm bells went off somewhere in the recesses of her mind. “Corey…no. I...I don’t do the heavy stuff. ”

“Even for me, babe? I love you. Don’t you love me?”

“You know I do—but this is...it’s wrong.”

“How can it be wrong if we love each other and plan to get married?”

Val tried to think through the haze in her brain. “Married?”

“Do you think I’d ask you to do this if I wasn’t planning to marry you after we finish school?”

Val tried to sort out the sequence of intimacy and marriage. The order was somehow out of whack, but Corey’s lips, and his urgency, were robbing her of rational thought.

“Are you sure about this?” Her question came out slightly garbled.

“Absolutely. Trust me and go with the flow.”

His hands were all over her. Her brain stopped working. She couldn’t think.

And so she didn’t.

She followed his advice and went with the flow.

A shudder rippled through Val as the images in her mind faded to black.

So many mistakes—and for what? Corey had wanted nothing more to do with her—and though she’d sought him out in desperation, he’d left her to deal with her darkest hours alone.

Sinking to her knees in the sand, Val dropped her face into her hands. If only she could turn back the clock, live that one night over again, how different her life might have been.

But it was too late for second chances.

A sob ripped through her. Another. The memories crashing over her were too intense. Too disturbing. Too shattering.

She had to leave.

Fast.

Pushing herself to her feet, she took off running for the trail, oblivious to the prickly branches snagging her hair and scraping her arms as she ascended. Up, up she climbed, until at last she emerged from the shadows into the sun on the knoll.

Bending forward, hands on knees, she sucked in deep, shud­dering breaths, her heart thudding as if she’d just finished a five-hundred-yard dash.

So much for finding answers in the place where it had all begun.

And if she’d fallen apart here, how would she survive a visit to the place where it had ended?

 

* * *

 

“Daddy, can I go see that butterfly up close?”

Following the direction of Victoria’s finger, David spotted a monarch hovering over a nearby patch of clover. “Sure. But be very slow and quiet or you’ll scare it away—and don’t touch it.”

“Why not?”

“Because butterflies are very fragile.”

“What’s fragile?”

“That means they break easily.”

Victoria studied him. “Like Mommy’s vase?”

A vision of the piece of Venetian glass Natalie had brought back from a business trip to Italy flashed through his mind.

He’d never cared for the ornate vase, and he wasn’t sorry it had slipped from his fingers and shattered into a thousand pieces while he was unpacking. Yet for some reason, the image of the bril­liant crimson shards on the white tile floor in their new kitchen was engraved on his mind.

They’d reminded him of blood.

He shut out the picture as best he could. “Yes. Like Mommy’s vase.”

“I’ll be real careful.”

She took off, and David watched her approach the gossamer-winged creature. It flitted to the next flower as she drew close, and she stopped. After a brief hesitation, she inched forward again. The same scenario was repeated again and again. This game could keep Victoria amused for hours—and that was fine. Whatever made her happy.

He stretched out his legs on the blanket, leaned back on his hands, and lifted his face to the sun. It felt wonderful to relax after all the upheaval of their move, and he intended to savor every minute of this gorgeous day.

A motion in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he glanced over. A blonde woman had emerged from the woods. She was bent over, holding on to a tree, and—he stiffened.

Was that a streak of blood running down her arm?

A second later she straightened up, and his lungs locked.

It was Val!

David catapulted to his feet, darting a quick glance toward Victoria. Her back was to him, and she’d bent down to examine the butterfly, oblivious to everything else. She’d be safe and occupied for a few moments.

As David sprinted toward Val, his alarm escalated. Her hair was tangled, and he hadn’t imagined the blood. A nasty scratch ran from her elbow halfway to her wrist. He touched her arm, and at the tremors coursing through her his gut clenched.

“Val?” His voice came out in a hoarse croak, and he tried again. “Val, what happened?”

No response.

He gave her a slight shake. “Val!”

She blinked once…twice…again. Her eyes were glazed, and there was evidence of recent tears on her colorless cheeks. “David?”

“What happened?”

She pushed her hair back. “What...do you mean?”

“You stumbled out of the woods. Your arm is bleeding. You’re shaking—and I can see you’ve been crying.”

Val examined her arm. “It’s a minor scratch. From the brambles.”

David scrutinized her. Was she avoiding his question on pur­pose, or was she in shock?

“Val, it’s obvious you’ve been through some kid of trauma. Should I call the police?”

“No. I’m fine. I...took a hike and I...I got lost in the woods. I was s-scared for a few minutes. That’s all.”

She was lying.

But if he pushed, she could shut him out completely.

“Your arm needs attention.”

“I’ll take care of it after I get home.” She tried for a smile. Managed only a twist of her lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Victoria and I are getting ready to have a picnic.” He motioned toward his daughter.

Val leaned sideways to see around him, and her features softened. Then she straightened up and fumbled in the pocket of her jeans. “Listen, I’m sorry I disturbed your day.” She pulled out her car keys and clasped them in a tight fist.

“You’re in no condition to drive.”

“I’m fine. Really.” She attempted to walk past him, but stopped as he touched her arm.

“Why don’t you join us?”

“No.” She took a step back. Out of reach. “I, uh, wouldn’t want to barge in on a family outing.”

“Victoria and I could use the company.”

She frowned. “Isn’t your wife with you?”

“Natalie died two years ago.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He indicated the blanket where he’d been sitting. “Victoria and I would welcome your company.”

She edged away, her gaze riveted on the plaid square. “I-I don’t think so.”

The blanket was freaking her out.

Why?

But he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was backing off, and in another moment or two she’d flee.

“I was about to relocate to the picnic table. That’ll be more comfortable. Won’t you reconsider? We have brownies for dessert.” He gave her a teasing grin he hoped didn’t come across as forced as it felt.

Some of the tension in her features relaxed. “Brownies are hard to pass up.”

“Then stay. I brought plenty.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and his spirits sank.

She was going to decline.

But much to his surprise, she relented.

“I’ll join you for a few minutes.”

“Thank you. Victoria and I will both enjoy the company. Let me gather up our picnic fixings.”

As he shook out the blanket and folded it, his daughter looked toward him. He waved at her and she bounded over, apparently more intrigued by their guest than by the elusive butterfly. Her pace slowed as she approached, however, and she nestled beside him to shyly regard the new arrival.

“Victoria, this is Val. She’s a friend of mine. Can you say hello?”

“Hello.” The little girl echoed his greeting in a soft voice.

“Hello, Victoria. I saw your picture in your daddy’s office. You’re even prettier in person.”

“You’re pretty too.” She inspected Val’s arm. “But you have an owie.”

“A big thorn scratched me in the woods.”

“We need to take care of that.” David deposited their picnic supplies on the table and dug out his car keys.

“I can deal with it later.”

He ignored her. “I’ll get the first aid kit from the car.”

“You carry a first aid kit in your car?”

“I have a five-year-old. That means I follow the Coast Guard motto: Always ready.”

Val’s lips curved. “Cute. Victoria and I will visit while you’re gone.”

David returned to the car, pausing at the trunk to observe the twosome.

An exuberant Victoria was talking to Val, who was leaning forward as she listened, giving the girl her full attention. Their conversation wasn’t audible, but all at once his daughter’s laugh floated through the air.

Man, he’d missed that sound. He’d almost begun to think she’d left it in St. Louis, along with her friends from day care and the familiarity of their old routine. Most days since the move, she’d been subdued. And how many nights had he awakened and found her at his bedside, complaining of having bad dreams and wanting to sleep with him?

Too many.

He fitted the key in the trunk, lifted the lid, and pulled out the first aid kit. So they’d had some transition glitches. That was to be expected. But once they grew accustomed to the small-town vibe, life would get better. They’d adjust to their new routine. Transform their new house into a home. Find new friends.

Like Val.

Already she was bringing laughter back into Victoria’s life. Add­ing a spark to her eyes.

And to his.

Yet as he started back toward the picnic table, he frowned. Val was leaving Washington in a few weeks. Letting himself—or Vic­toria—get too involved with her would be a big mistake. He and his daughter had endured too much loss and disappointment already. The key was to play this cool. Casual. Enjoy her company, but put his efforts into finding more permanent friends.

So they’d eat their lunch, have a few pleasant moments—and leave it at that. Even if Val seemed as much in need of a friend as Victoria did.

Because keeping their interactions light and friendly would be a whole lot safer.

For everyone.