Marta Perry - True Devotion

She frowned, trying to remember the last time Trevor had mentioned the vacation house. “Did he say why he wanted to see it?”

He shrugged. “Sentiment, I suppose. Or maybe he was thinking about rebuilding.”

“Maybe.” He’d have talked to Enid about that, surely.

She tried to picture Trevor walking around Lakemont in the evenings, tried to imagine him visiting the ruins of the place where he’d spent summers as a boy.

It didn’t seem to help much, but at least it gave her a place to start. She’d pay her own visit to whatever remained of the summerhouse.

Daniel patted her hand. “If you want to talk about him anytime, I’m here. We’d all like to help you.”

All but Nathan.

“I’m afraid I make your son uncomfortable.” The words were out before she considered that they might sound critical.

“Well, Nathan’s got his own set of problems.” He glanced at her, the look questioning. “You know about his wife, don’t you?”

“I didn’t know he was married.”

He nodded. “Married his high school sweetheart. He and Linda never seemed to have eyes for anyone else. She died five years ago.”

Shock jolted her, and she clung to the railing, the wood rough on her palm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” No wonder Nathan was edgy around her. “I suppose my being here, my grief, reminds him of his own loss.”

“Well, it’s not just that.” Daniel hesitated, the lines in his face deepening. He seemed reluctant to say something he knew he must. “The thing is, Nathan and Linda lived in the cottage you’re staying in. And she was pregnant when she died.”

The words hit her like a blow. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think.

Poor Nathan. No wonder he hated being in the cottage with her. Hated seeing her there.

“I—” She didn’t know what to say first. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Why did Jen put me in the cottage?”

“She didn’t know about Linda.” He shrugged. “And we do rent the cottage when someone wants it. It’s just unfortunate that—”

“That it happened to be me.” She shook her head, feeling a little nauseated. “How did his wife die? What happened to her?”

Sorrow carved deeper lines in his face. “The doctors said Linda had an undetected heart defect. One of those things that people never even know they have.” He paused. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but she and the baby both died.”

She rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the chill that settled into her bones. Or her heart. No wonder Nathan was so protective of his father after his heart attack.

“Should I move out of the cottage?”

Daniel’s gaze was troubled. “I thought so at first. But it seems as if having you there is making Nathan face his feelings instead of locking them away. That might be a good thing.”

“I can move into the lodge.” Her preference for the cottage paled in the face of this information.

“If you’re okay with it, maybe you ought to stay where you are. Maybe it’s better that way.” He put the words cautiously, as if he thought she might be upset at knowing the pregnant woman who’d lived there had died.

She was upset, but not out of any superstitious fear.

“All right. I’ll stay at the cottage for now, but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

He nodded, his face still troubled.

Poor Nathan.

The words repeated themselves in her mind. Was that what people were saying about her? She found she didn’t like the sound of it.

She understood. Of all the people in the world, she understood what Nathan was feeling.

That sense of intimate knowledge shook her. It might be better not to empathize so well. It might be safer for both of them.

Susannah had come to the lodge for breakfast the next morning because she couldn’t face staying alone at the cottage any longer. But even an excellent breakfast hadn’t dispelled the cloud that hung over her.

The dining room had emptied gradually. She was left alone with the server who was clearing tables.

She couldn’t dismiss Daniel’s words from her mind. Nathan’s young wife, and his child, wiped out of his life in a moment.

And how she was going to face Nathan again with this knowledge hovering in her consciousness—well, maybe it would be better if she didn’t see him for a while.

“More tea, Ms. Laine?” The server hovered over her, teapot at the ready. Laine. She’d given up the pretence once Nathan and his father knew the truth. She’d probably stand a better chance of finding something out this way, in any case.

“No, thanks, Rhoda.”

The woman nodded, returning the teapot to her tray and removing Susannah’s dishes deftly. Rhoda Welsh apparently did just about everything at the lodge. She was quick and efficient, and she certainly didn’t chatter. In fact, Susannah hadn’t seen her exchange more than a couple of words with anyone.

Susannah watched her idly. She was in her late thirties probably, with a fine-boned, impassive face that didn’t give anything away. She’d be an attractive woman if she weren’t so withdrawn.

“It’s quiet after the weekend, isn’t it?”

Rhoda looked startled to have a response expected of her. “I suppose so.” She set dishes on the tray. “Would you like anything else?”

The woman’s bland politeness seemed to repel further comment. The impulse Susannah had had to ask if she remembered Trevor withered away. What could the woman say, even if she bothered to answer?

“No, that’s all. Thank you.”

The woman slipped noiselessly away. Susannah picked up her jacket and bag and crossed the dining room. At least she had a destination in mind this morning.

As she pushed open the door, Nathan jogged up the stairs toward her. In fact, jogged did seem to be the operative word. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and his dark hair clung damply to his head. He wore sweats and sneakers, and he’d obviously been running.

He held the door for her. “Good morning. Where are you off to this morning?”

He was trying to be pleasant, and that had to cost him an effort.

“I’m planning to have a look at what’s left of the vacation house.” Because your father told me yesterday that Trevor did that when he was here. “I suppose Enid and I really ought to do something about the property.”

He frowned. “You can’t do that.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

He planted a large hand on the porch post, as if to bar her way. “I mean, you shouldn’t go over there. Not alone. The place is an overgrown mess.”

“All the more reason why I should have a look.” She brushed past him and started down the steps.

He followed her. “Look, I’m telling you, it’s not safe. They never did a proper job of razing the house. You shouldn’t be wandering around there—”

“Alone,” she finished for him, her voice tart. “I know. I get the message. I’ll be careful.” She started toward her car.

He caught her arm, turned her so that she faced the police cruiser, and opened the door.

She impaled him with her coolest stare. “Are you arresting me?”

“No, I’m taking you to the Laine house.” At her incredulous expression, he gave an exasperated sigh. “If you’re that determined to go, I’ll take you. I don’t want to have it on my conscience if you fall down and break an ankle. Can you wait until I shower?” He swung the towel from around his neck and wiped his face.

“I don’t need your help.” Well, that sounded petulant. She tried again. “I appreciate your offer, but I’ll be perfectly fine by myself.”

“Look, if you’re going, I’m going with you, so you may as well get in the car and save us both an argument.”