Hidden Falls (43 page)

“You see the orthopedist tomorrow,” Ethan pointed out.

Nicole rolled her eyes. “That can be rescheduled. And we have orthopedists in St. Louis, you know. Find some paper. I’ll leave Lauren a note.”

Ethan cleared his throat. “Nicole, I’m not going to drive you to St. Louis.”

Her heart jolted from its rhythm. “I can’t drive myself. It’s my right ankle that’s broken.”

“Let’s sit down.” He gestured toward the sofa.

“Don’t waste my time, Ethan.”

“Please, Nicole. You make me nervous trying to pace with crutches.”

She brandished one crutch at him. “Fine. But keep this short.”

They settled next to each other on the sofa. Ethan took one of Nicole’s hands.

“I think Quinn wants to be in St. Louis,” he said.

She stared into his wide, earnest brown eyes. “Quinn has never been to St. Louis in his life. Why would he suddenly decide to pick up and take the trip?”

“That’s a legitimate question, and I don’t know the answer.” Ethan lifted her fingers and kissed Nicole’s knuckles. “But he used his debit card for normal kinds of activities that people do, whether at home or on vacation.”

“What’s your point?” Nicole’s brain said she should pull her hand out of Ethan’s grasp, but she didn’t. His touch, his nearness, his chocolate eyes inches from her face—Nicole was lucky her tongue could still form sounds against her teeth.

“If he didn’t want anyone to know he was in St. Louis, would he use a debit card?”

“Everybody needs to use money. He didn’t plan this escape, after all. He didn’t have a roll of cash in his tux the night he disappeared.”

“Or,” Ethan said, squeezing her fingers, “if someone took him against his will, wouldn’t they make sure he
didn’t
use his card?”

“That’s it!” Nicole did snatch her hand back from Ethan now. “It’s a signal, a call for help, a way of telling us where he is.”

“I don’t think so.” Ethan gripped both of Nicole’s crutches and moved them out of her reach. “Besides, those charges were three days ago now. He could be anywhere.”

“All the more reason to see his credit card account.” Nicole eyed her crutches, dismayed that Ethan had maneuvered her away from both the rolling desk chair and the crutches and trapped her, immobile, on the sofa.

“Then you’re going to have to take your chances with Cooper,” Ethan said.

She wasn’t ready to do that.

He slipped a hand under her hair at the side of her face and stroked her earlobe with one thumb. “I can’t take you to St. Louis.”

Nicole didn’t expect the sting of tears in her eyes. “We have to find him.”

“I think we have reason to feel encouraged. He’s not lying in a ditch. He just decided he had somewhere to go.”

“But what if he doesn’t come back? What if I never get to tell him how much he means to me?”

Ethan leaned his forehead against hers. “I understand how you feel. I’ve been gone from Hidden Falls for the same ten years you have, and I never so much as sent him a Christmas card.”

Nicole swallowed hard but didn’t move. If anyone could know what she was feeling right now, it was Ethan.

“Let’s not create any more regret,” Ethan said. “Not about Quinn, not about each other.”

“If I stop looking for him,” Nicole said, “I’ll regret that.”

“If you don’t let yourself be grateful for him, even if you can’t tell him, you’ll regret that.”

Her chest rose in a sharp spasm. “But I am grateful.”

“We both let a lot of opportunities pass us by.” Ethan moved his hand to the back of her neck. “These last few days have reminded me of that.”

His breath blew warm against her cheek, and Nicole’s breathing grew shallow.

“What if we don’t get another chance with Quinn?” Her hushed voice cracked.

“His disappearance may have given us another chance with each other,” Ethan said, “and I think Quinn would want us to take it.”

All day long, Ethan was right with one observation after another. And he was right about this. If Quinn hadn’t disappeared on Saturday night, she would have gone back to St. Louis and Ethan would have gone back to Columbus. They would have had no reason to see each other except across the banquet hall, and she would have spent her visit to Hidden Falls reminding herself that she got over Ethan Jordan a long time ago.

But Quinn had disappeared.

And Nicole hadn’t gotten over Ethan Jordan, it turned out.

He closed the remaining inches between their faces, pulling her mouth against the eagerness of his. He tasted as he always had, and Nicole savored the familiarity and all that it stirred in her. She had never been sure what a second chance might feel like—or if she would take it. No matter what happened with Quinn, Nicole was grateful for this moment.

Nicole broke the kiss and gasped for a breath that would fill her lungs. She was letting emotion overwhelm her. One kiss didn’t change what had happened between them ten years ago or the reasons for it.

“The photo,” she said.

Ethan said nothing while he continued looking into her eyes.

Nicole leaned away, and his hand slid down her neck and off her shoulder. “The photo is the reason Quinn wanted you to come to Hidden Falls. He has something to tell you about it. He would want you to know what that is.”

Ethan picked up the picture from the coffee table in front of them.

“You do see the resemblance, don’t you?” Nicole asked.

Ethan nodded.

“If you won’t take me to St. Louis, then I have a request for another destination—a local one. It won’t take very long.”

“We should ice your ankle.”

“Forget about my ankle. It’ll still be broken when we get back.”

7:03 p.m.

Lauren followed her aunt up the narrow stairs to the attic.

“I should have thought about these clothes when you were here on Sunday night,” Sylvia said. “I’m glad you brought it up. Quinn and I talked about it, but that was ages ago.”

It hadn’t occurred to Lauren to include vintage clothing in the silent auction until she found Quinn’s brief note about some clothing Sylvia had—a note Lauren avoided mentioning directly. Considering how she came into possession of Quinn’s notes, she watched her words carefully, even with her aunt. Lauren vaguely remembered the fancy gowns and dresses her Nana had worn when Lauren was little, though she suspected at least some of her memory came from photographs from long before Lauren was born showing Emma in satin skirts shaped by underlying crinoline layers, and velvet bodices and matching gloves.

At the top of the dim stairs, to Lauren’s relief, her aunt found a light switch.

“I don’t know what condition the dresses are in,” Sylvia said. “I haven’t looked at them in years. I don’t even remember why they ended up in my possession.”

“Are you sure you don’t want them now?” Sylvia asked. “Vintage seems popular these days.”

“They would never fit me. Besides, I don’t have the kind of class that Nana has.” The extended family still repeated Emma’s favorite advice.
A classic dress never goes out of style. Don’t skimp on a good investment.

Sylvia opened a tissue-lined box, and they took turns lifting garments and releasing into the air the scent of the cardboard storage.

“Don’t feel obliged to take all of them—or any of them.” Sylvia smoothed a hand across blue satin. “It was only an idle thought at the time.”

Lauren found the dresses stunning. She wouldn’t take them all, though. They would fetch a better price if there weren’t too many. Three, or perhaps only two, would drive up bidding. If they did another auction the following year, Lauren would gladly revisit her aunt’s attic.

“We should have brought a bag up.” Lauren hesitated to set the dresses down among the rough edges of the attic flooring.

“I think there are some empty boxes over there.”

Sylvia pointed, and Lauren scooted about ten feet to the right where an old shelving unit held boxes, some full and some empty. On the top shelf was a wooden box, about ten inches by ten inches, and perhaps four inches deep.

“What’s this?” Lauren picked up the box.

“I haven’t seen that in years, either.”

“It’s beautiful.” Lauren picked up the box and trailed her fingers along its carved lines. She started to lift the lid.

“Don’t open that!”

The edge in Sylvia’s tone startled Lauren. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Sylvia said. “It’s just that the box doesn’t belong to me.”

“But it’s in your attic.”

“Quinn gave it to me nearly twenty years ago,” Sylvia said. “He said it was for safekeeping and asked me not to look in it.”

“So you never have?” The box’s lid was hinged on one side, but Lauren saw no latch. Anyone could open it.

“No, I never have. Quinn and I trust each other.”

“You’ve never been curious?” Lauren put the wooden box back on the shelf and checked several cardboard cubes until she found one that was empty. She shoved it along the floor to the dress pile.

“It doesn’t matter if I was curious,” Sylvia said. “Quinn asked me not to look in it … unless …”

“Unless what?”

“Never mind.” Sylvia held up a red silk dress. “I would think this one would do well in your sale.”

Lauren knelt beside her aunt and let the silk of the shirred skirt slide between her fingers. “Aunt Sylvia, why didn’t you ever marry Quinn?”

“He never asked me.” Sylvia folded a straight black skirt and balanced it on the edge of the open box.

Quinn was at Sylvia’s side during holidays and family events all through Lauren’s childhood and youth, in the days when the extended family gathered. She saw the glances that passed between them and the thoughtfulness of the gifts they exchanged. In many ways their intimacy was more profound than the interactions Lauren observed in most married couples.

“If he had asked, you would have said yes?”

Sylvia didn’t meet her niece’s eye. “Yes, I would have.”

Maybe you still would,
Lauren thought. Surely in all the passing years Sylvia had other opportunities. She must have known other young men who would have jumped at the chance to live out their days with a generous, compassionate, capable woman like Sylvia. How many of them had she turned away after the first date because they were not Quinn?

Lauren reached for Sylvia’s hand, stilling its wrestling with a crinoline-lined skirt. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through these last few days.”

“Quinn’s absence is hard on all of us.”

“But especially you.”

Sylvia leaned back on her heels. “When Quinn gets back, he will be so glad to know you went ahead with the health fair.”

Lauren hoped so.

Mostly she hoped Quinn would come back soon, or at least let someone know where he was. Lauren decided to take the red silk and vacillated between the sheer lace over blue satin and a pearl gray she suspected was cashmere.

“What about you?” Sylvia asked. “Do you hope to meet someone? Cooper Elliott cuts a dashing figure in his dress uniform.”

Lauren tried very hard not to blush.

“I have a good life, Aunt Sylvia. I’m not unhappy on my own.” Lauren had her moments of envy when she saw couples—like Ethan and Nicole, who had returned to their inseparable status in the last few days. Did they have any idea of how rare the bond they had was? But Lauren meant what she said to Sylvia. She enjoyed her life in Hidden Falls and working at the church and meeting people like Molly and Christopher.

“I feel the same,” Sylvia said. “I wouldn’t trade a moment of the happiness I’ve known.”

Lauren leaned over and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I think I’ll take these three.” She put her final selections in the empty box.

“I’ll get them dry-cleaned tomorrow and have them ready first thing Saturday morning,” Sylvia said. “Now, can I give you a ride into town?”

“I need to go to the community center.” Lauren folded the flaps of the box down. “My bike is there.”

In the car, Lauren described her encounter with Molly and Christopher and the reason she’d left her bike at the community center. When Lauren got out of the car, Sylvia stayed long enough to make sure the headlamp on the bike worked and that Lauren’s helmet still hung from the handlebars.

Lauren never minded riding in the evening any more than she minded walking after dark. She strapped her cross-body bag to the back of the bike and pushed off. Her apartment was her eventual destination, but right now she wanted to pedal as hard as she could and feel the rush of air against her face. She rode north through the stately neighborhood west of downtown, where she knew she would encounter little traffic, and toward the edge of the cemetery. From there she could follow a well-lit road back toward Main Street.

When her phone rang, Lauren braked. Trying to grab the call before it went into voice mail, she didn’t look at the number on the screen. She expected it would be Benita Booker with a report on her accomplishments of the day.

Lauren heard city noises—the
hiss
of bus brakes, a car horn, a street musician. This definitely didn’t sound like Hidden Falls.

The call cut out. It was the same number as that morning and two days ago.

Had he left town that day? Was he going to torment her all over again, just like in high school? Lauren jammed her phone back in her pocket. She didn’t have a landline. Everyone called her on this number. Changing numbers would be a major hassle that would have to wait until after the health fair. For now, it was enough to know that he had left Hidden Falls.

Lauren put her bicycle in motion again and rode up to the cemetery. She didn’t intend to ride in, but only to pick up the road that would take her home. But she saw a car turn slowly into the entry to the cemetery.

A black Lexus.

Nicole was up to something, and she had dragged Ethan into it.

8:09 p.m.

“One stop,” Jack said into the telephone. “After that, I promise I’ll be home. I’ll come in and say good night.”

He dropped the phone into its cradle, satisfied that his wife and youngest daughter were placated for the evening. If he went home now, they would see the distraction in the creases of his face, the glaze in his eyes when he didn’t quite focus on whatever it was they would want to show him. It was better if he went now, even in the dark, to get the curiosity out of his system.