Jean Barrett - Paternity Unknown

Yeah, it was different, although Ethan was able to recognize the road he traveled, this time in a rental sedan that almost matched the clear blue of the sky. There were familiar landmarks, like the sign that advertised vacation cottages for rent in Elkton.

Elkton. That was why he’d come back to this place. He had unfinished business with Hilary Johnson, who now lived permanently in her hometown.

His grandfather’s former housekeeper had lied on the stand when they’d brought her back to Seattle as the chief witness in Ethan’s trials. Both juries had believed her, but her testimony hadn’t been enough to convict him. Insufficient evidence. He’d been acquitted in the end.

Ethan should have let it go at that, gotten on with his life. He couldn’t. Whatever the final verdict, he knew that the police and the public continued to doubt his innocence. He had to know why Hilary Johnson had lied. Had to do whatever he could to clear himself, or this cloud of guilt would shadow him for the rest of his days.

Hell, why was he playing games with himself? He had realized the moment he’d boarded the plane, even before then, that it was not just Hilary Johnson who was bringing him back to Montana. Lauren. He had to try to make it right with Lauren.

The road climbed the ridge and swept around a bend. Ethan slowed the car. Another landmark. This was the spot where he had skidded and gone over the embankment.

Recollections. And the worst of them was the gut-wrenching memory of Lauren’s face when those two cops had hauled him away from her cabin in cuffs. The look of betrayal on her face had haunted him all those long months they had kept him in jail.

He had to try to make it right with her. If she would let him.

He was seething with that hope when he reached the turn into her driveway and descended the long, winding lane. Maybe she wouldn’t be here. He hadn’t considered that.

Swooping around a curve, he emerged from the trees. Another vehicle, a green compact, was parked at the edge of the clearing. He figured it had to be hers. He pulled in behind it and climbed from the rental.

The ground here had been white when he’d last seen it, the lake frozen. Now the clearing was a golden brown with drifting leaves and the open waters of the lake a deep blue. No wind, either. The morning was tranquil.

Ethan was aware of the stillness as he crossed the clearing to the cabin, mounted the steps of the porch and arrived at the front door. The door was slightly ajar. When he rapped on it, it spread inward.

“Lauren,” he called softly. “You here?”

No answer. The open door was an invitation. He probably had no right to look at it that way, but he did.

Ethan walked into the living room and was immediately assaulted by memories. Some of them were raw and painful. Most of them were good memories. He tried to hang on to those, just as he had clung to them all those months in jail.

The cabin was silent. There was no sign of Lauren. But sacks of groceries stood on the bar that divided the kitchen from the living room, as if she had recently arrived home from the store and hadn’t had time to unpack them.

A movement through one of the windows at the side of the cabin captured his attention. Ethan went to the glass and looked out. Lauren was there in the yard putting seed in a bird feeder. The sight of her slim figure had emotions welling up inside him. They threatened to spill over when she left the feeder and trotted back around the corner of the cabin.

She hadn’t heard his car, didn’t know he was here. He turned away from the window, waiting for her. When she came through the door and discovered his presence, she stopped, a look of naked shock on her face.

Swiftly recovering herself, she challenged him with a sharp, “How did you get in?”

It was not the greeting Ethan wanted to hear, even if he did deserve it. “The door was ajar. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

She set the container of sunflower seeds on a small table just inside the door and then moved away toward the far end of the living room, as if she didn’t trust him to be anywhere near her.

“How long have you been here?” she demanded.

“I just got—” He broke off. He could see she was trembling. She was afraid. Afraid of him. Stung by her fear, he tried to reassure her, saying solemnly, “I told you once, Lauren, that I wouldn’t hurt you. I meant it. I mean it now.”

“You turn up like this out of nowhere just to tell me that?”

She was right. He should have phoned her first, asked if he could see her. Why hadn’t he? Maybe because he’d feared she would hang up on him.

She raked her fingers through her auburn hair. That’s when he noticed she had cut it and that this shorter length suited her. Her action was evidence that she was still apprehensive. He tried again to ease her.

“I wouldn’t hurt anyone, Lauren, and I didn’t. What I was accused of when they arrested me last year…well, I stood trial for that and was—”

“I know. It was all over the news.”

Yeah, given his grandfather’s wealth and prominence, he supposed the whole thing was sensational enough to have been covered even here in Montana.

“Then you know I’m no longer a wanted man.”

“What I don’t know is what you’re doing here.”

This was all going badly. They were stiff and awkward with each other, not what he’d planned. “We’re unfinished business, Lauren. Whatever happened, I cared about us. I still care.”

“You had a strange way of showing that. Eleven months of silence.”

She was angry now. Unable to forgive him. He couldn’t blame her. No, he hadn’t tried to call her or write her. How could he, with a prison sentence looming over him every day of those eleven months?

Almost a year. A whole year locked away in a Seattle jail. Held without bail because not only was the charge murder, he’d been a suspect who had fled the state of Washington with the intention of badgering a witness. Hilary Johnson, who, after her deposition, had come home to Montana until her testimony was needed.

She had testified, but only after lengthy delays that had preceded the first trial, which had ended in a hung jury. Then more delays followed until the second trial, when the jury this time had brought in a reluctant verdict of innocence. The prosecution had failed to prove Ethan’s guilt beyond any reasonable doubt.

And throughout those eleven months, he had made no effort to contact Lauren. He’d been convinced it wouldn’t be fair to her, that with the threat of prison he’d only be hurting her more than he already had. She hadn’t needed him messing up her life again.

This was what Ethan had thought, and he realized now how wrong he had been.

“You’re right,” he said. “I owe you an explanation.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need it. I just want you to go.”

Hoping an appeal would work, Ethan started toward her. She backed away from him. That’s when he realized she was more than just hurt or scared. She was worried about something. Her gaze nervously, briefly slewed in the direction of the door to the master bedroom. Ethan could see that door now. It was closed.

“What is it, Lauren? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing. Please, just go.”

She was protecting something inside that bedroom. Or someone. He was certain of it. She was no longer living here alone.

Who? Another man? Was the guy from Helena back in her life?

He was gripped by a sudden spasm of jealousy. Stupid. He wasn’t entitled to such an emotion. Lauren was a young, vibrant woman. Why shouldn’t she have someone in her life?

But as unreasonable as he knew his jealousy to be, it persisted, resulting in an equally irrational action.