Cindy Gerard - The Way Home

He only knew that she’d been there. In the back of his mind, tucked in a corner reserved for unfinished business. Business that would have stayed unfinished if life wasn’t full of so many curves.

He hoped this didn’t end up as one of those “sounded like a good idea at the time” experiences he’d live to regret. Or that she would.

Losing Maya was something he regretted. Hell, losing her had pretty much knocked him down. But he kept thinking about Jess. Of how she’d soldiered on.

In all honesty, he wasn’t one-hundred-percent certain when he’d decided to come back here if the reason was to heal or that he’d simply never forgotten her. He needed to find out. And he needed to be honest with Jess about that.

He needed to be honest about Maya, too. He’d loved her, and he wasn’t looking to replace her. He was looking to move on. Jess Albert was a good place to start. She was a special woman. And he’d grown weary of grieving. He figured she had, too. And if not, hey, he’d been due for a change of scenery.

And boy, howdy, had he gotten it. The Crossroads General Store, with its three gas pumps, time-worn exterior, and cute-as-a-button proprietor, was a far cry from Key West. It looked a lot different in daylight from when he’d first seen it through the low beams of a rented pickup in the dead of winter on the hunt for a pack of predators hell-bent on killing some people he cared about. At least, he cared about them now. Now that he’d gotten to know them through his brother, Mike.

The terrain was as far from palm trees and sand as you could get. Dense pine and birch forest crowded within ten feet of the road’s shoulder in spots as he followed Jess’s directions, which he’d plugged into the onboard navigation system. Huge boulders and rock outcroppings popped up in the middle of a rare open meadow. He passed a couple of driveways that he assumed led to houses tucked back in the woods, a tidy log restaurant and bait shop—with an eye-roll-inducing marquee sign inviting travelers to “Eat here and get worms”—a small country church, a very rural fire department, a marina, and Albert’s Guide Service.

He wondered if that Albert was related to Jess’s husband. The nav system dinged softly then, followed by the dulcet tones of a computerized woman’s voice. “Turn right onto Gamma Road in two-tenths of a mile.”

He drew a deep breath and flipped on his turn signal, although this deep into the forest, there wasn’t another vehicle in his line of sight.

“Turn right.”

Turn right toward what might be a new chapter in your life …

It was time.

LIVING ON LAKE KABETOGAMA WAS like living in a fishbowl. There were no secrets. Kabby was a small, tightly knit community of shopkeepers, innkeepers, carpenters, and loggers mixed in with the summer residents and a steady rotation of tourists, many of whom were repeat resort customers summer after summer. Everyone looked out for everyone else—to excess sometimes—and word of a change in the norm moved faster than Kayla’s fingers across the keypad on her iPhone.

There were several restaurants on the lake within ten miles of the store where they could go for dinner but nowhere close where Jess wouldn’t run into someone she knew—from the owners to the waitresses to the regulars. So when Ty picked her up promptly at six and asked where she’d like to eat, she hadn’t hesitated.

“Would you mind terribly making the twenty-minute trip back to the Falls?” Since International Falls had the only airport within eighty miles, she’d figured he’d rented his Jeep there. “We can swing over to Rainey Lake. There’s a pretty good restaurant right on the water.” In this land of ten thousand lakes, there was always a restaurant on another lake within driving distance.

“And a pretty good chance no one will find out you’re on a dinner date?”

He got points for being intuitive. “It would be nice to think so, but that ship has already sailed, I’m afraid.”

“Kayla?”

She smiled. “The girl has a network that would make Ma Bell green with envy.”

“Am I causing trouble for you?”

Oh, she’d have to contend with dozens of “drop-ins” within a day or so, people stopping by the store on the pretense of needing a loaf of bread or a case of soda or any number of excuses, but in truth, they’d all be angling for information. Nothing she couldn’t deflect.

J.R.’s brother, Brad, however, would be a different story. Brad had been wonderful since J.R. died. Helpful, supportive, and kind. But she knew exactly what his reaction would be when he heard about Tyler Brown. He’d be resentful. Angry, even. He’d loved his brother. He cared about her, but he would consider her interest in any man a betrayal—even after three years. More than once, she’d heard him say, “Mallards mate for life. If the drake dies, the hen never pairs up again.” Brad believed the adage applied to human marriage, too.

“No trouble,” she lied, and put Brad out of her mind. She’d deal with him when the time came… which, if Kayla’s grapevine was humming, would probably be sometime tomorrow morning.

Tonight was about what happened tonight. Now that she had acclimated herself to the truth—Tyler Brown had come a long way to see her—there were things she wanted to set straight both in her mind and in his. Starting with the dressing down she’d given herself as she’d showered and gotten ready. Having dinner and polite conversation with this man was fine. But she was a pragmatic person. She knew that was as far as it was ever going to go—dinner and conversation—regardless of what he might be thinking. Regardless of how flattering it was. Once he thought about it, he’d realize it, too.

She’d reaffirmed that as they made the drive, and now, with her head on straight, she looked across their table near the window with Rainy Lake shimmering in a wide, glistening swath across the northland, glad she’d picked this place. Even though many people she knew frequented the Thunderbird restaurant, they usually reserved their dinners there for the weekends or during the off season. So she figured they had about a ninety-percent shot at anonymity on a Wednesday evening at the height of the tourist season.

“You look very pretty,” Ty said, breaking into her thoughts.

She didn’t know about pretty, but she did know it pleased her a little too much that he’d said she was. She’d turned up a soft white cotton knit top with a deep U neckline and little capped sleeves that was almost new and fit her like a glove, then tucked the shirt into a summer print skirt she’d bought for one of the Bradley boys’ weddings two summers ago. The skirt hit her mid-thigh, and between it and a pair of woven sandals with wedge heels, her legs looked long and toned.

She hadn’t given a thought to removing the wedding ring that felt like it had always been a part of her. In fact, it felt like a protective barrier of sorts tonight. A reminder of many things. She’d seen Ty’s gaze stray to her left hand when she’d gotten into the Jeep, wondered what he’d been thinking and embarrassed by her hands, which were work-rough, with short, no-nonsense nails. Nothing she could do about that, but she’d been glad for Kayla’s jasmine and musk lotion. It had taken a couple of applications to smooth out her hands and moisturize her arms and legs to a dew-soft glow.

There wasn’t a lot she could do with her hair, but for once, the curls fell softly around her face and were actually kind of flattering. Or maybe it was the eyeliner she’d lightly smudged on her lids and the bit of blush she’d brushed on her cheeks. It had been so long since she’d made herself up and dressed for a man—even though it was not that kind of a date—and she actually felt a little foolish for making the effort tonight.