Sweet Laurel Falls (27 page)

Now, there was an idea. Though it would be a blatant lie, maybe
that’s what it would take to discourage him, to keep him just beyond that nice,
safe perimeter she had maintained since divorcing Chris Parker. The words
wouldn’t come.

“I can’t,” she whispered instead.

“You can’t what? Tell me you didn’t enjoy that kiss? Or let me
kiss you again?”

Her heartbeat pounded a heady rhythm and she didn’t answer,
only gazed at him in the light of the moon. It seemed the most natural thing in
the world when he reached out and pulled her against him. He was warm in the
cool of the night, and she wanted to burrow into him and never move. Jack was
the most solid thing in her world right now. How had that possibly happened?

“What are we going to do about this?” he murmured.

“Why do we have to analyze it? Can’t you just kiss me?”

He gave that rough laugh again that seemed to sizzle through
her. “Why, yes. What an excellent idea.”

His mouth descended and he tasted sweetly of chocolate and
orange with the sultry undertone of wine, and she felt like that waterfall, with
currents swirling warm and strong through her, breaking away the ice of the past
year in great chunks.

“I’ve been fighting this since I came back to town,” he
murmured, his breath stirring her skin. “Damned if I can understand the pull you
have over me.”

Should she be flattered or insulted by that? “What can I say?”
she shot back, her voice husky. “I’m a femme fatale and spend hours a day trying
to come up with new ways to lure men into my clutches.”

“Whatever you’re doing works, at least with this man. I haven’t
been able to get you out of my head for weeks.”

“I’ve been the same since you came back,” she admitted.

He gazed at her for a moment, heat sizzling between them, then
with a low sound he pulled her back into his arms.

They kissed for a long time, there in the moonlight beside the
waterfall, and Maura felt something else that had been missing for far too
long.

Peace.

The yip of a dog finally brought her back to a sense of time
and place, and she realized she was practically on Jack’s lap. Puck, on the
other hand, sat some twenty feet away, the retractable-leash handle dangling in
the dirt beside him.

Had she really been so distracted by the kiss that she had
completely let go of the leash, heedless of her responsibility to her pet? Sweet
Laurel Creek wasn’t very deep or wide here, but if a tiny shih tzu like Puck
were to fall in, it might as well be the mighty Missouri. Beyond that, the dog
could have wandered off into the night and encountered all kinds of dangers, and
she would have been too busy making out with Jack to pay attention.

Though she really, really didn’t want to, she managed to slide
her mouth away from his.

“Puck, come back here,” she ordered. “Right now.”

The dog gave a quizzical look, as if he considered this a fun
new game, and was gearing up to bolt, until Jack simply said, “Puck. Come.”

The dog immediately scampered over to them, so close that Jack
could scoop down and pick him up. He handed the dog to Maura, and she cuddled
his cold little paws on her lap, suddenly grateful for the distance the dog
provided.

He sat back on the bench, though his fingers remained entwined
with hers.

“Logically, some part of me keeps telling me I should still be
furious with you for keeping Sage from me all these years. When I think about
everything I missed with her, I still sometimes want to pound my fist through a
wall. But then the other part of me sees her now, pregnant and alone and facing
all this uncertainty and all these painful choices, and I have to wonder how the
hell you can even stand to look at me, knowing I left you to deal with
everything by yourself.”

She drew in a shuddering breath, stunned at the depth of
emotion behind his words. “It’s done, Jack. We both made mistakes. For what it’s
worth, I forgave you a long time ago for not…not loving me enough to stay.”

He stared at her, and beneath her hand she could feel his heart
beating strong and fast. “Not loving you enough? Is that what you thought? It
killed me to leave. I punched in your number at least once a day that first
month, but I always hung up before the call could go through.”

“We would have been lousy together back then. Over the years,
I’ve wondered what would have happened if you had ever returned my calls. You
would have come back and insisted we do something stupid and shortsighted like
get married, and we would have been miserable together. You would have dropped
out of school to support us and probably gone into construction or something.
You certainly never would have become an architect. Eventually you would have
hated me for stealing that dream from you.”

“Maybe.”

“Anyway, we can’t go back and change anything. I’m not sure I
would, even if I had the chance.”

He was silent for a long time, petting Puck almost
absently.

“You know,” he finally said, “one of my first jobs out of
graduate school involved a lot with this really spectacular view of the ocean
near Monterey, but also an ugly, dilapidated building that had been built right
after the Second World War. It was poorly planned and constructed with shoddy
materials. We figured out right away the structure couldn’t be saved. But we
also figured out the one good thing about the whole lot, besides the view, was
the foundation. It was still sturdy and as strong as when it had been laid down
decades ago. Do you know what we ended up doing?”

“No.”

“We tore the whole structure down and rebuilt something new and
beautiful on the same foundation, a boutique hotel that consistently wins design
and hospitality awards.”

“Jack—”

“I think we have something sturdy and strong here, Maura. I’d
like to see what we could build on that foundation.”

Panic began to filter through the soft haze of desire that
surrounded them. She eased away from him a little on the bench.

“Or we could forget tonight ever happened and go back to the
wary sort of peace we’ve managed to achieve since you came back to Hope’s
Crossing.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

She sighed, feeling like an idiot. “I can’t… I don’t do this
well.” She gestured back and forth between the two of them.

He raised an eyebrow. “From my perspective, you do it very
well.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’ve had two serious relationships in
my life—what we had together all those years ago and then my marriage. I ended
up making a mess of both of them.”

“I can’t speak for your marriage, but you certainly didn’t do
anything to mess up our relationship. We were both young and stupid. I blame
that more than anything. How long have you been divorced again?”

She sighed. “Officially, eight years. But our relationship was
rocky long before then. His touring was hard on us, but more than that, I wasn’t
the sort of wife I should have been, probably because…”

She stopped, horrified that she had almost revealed to him that
her marriage hadn’t worked out in part because some measure of her heart had
always belonged to Jack.

“Because?”

“Chris and I were never a very good match,” she said, which was
true enough. Just not the whole story. “Logically, we were perfect for each
other. We both loved music and poetry and talking about books. He was so great
with Sage that I really thought we could make it work, but…I guess our marriage
was never strong enough to deal with all the challenges of his life as a
musician. We didn’t have that strong foundation you were talking about.”

She really didn’t want to talk about Chris right now—and not
with Jack. “That’s not really the point here. We were…were talking about
us.”

“I would like there to be an
us,
Maura. I loved you once. Since I’ve been back, I’m beginning to remember all the
reasons why.”

She closed her eyes against the soft seduction of his voice,
against the fierce need to lean into his words and into him. “It’s been twenty
years. We’re totally different people. We’re kidding ourselves if we think we
can just pick up where we left off, as if all those years and all the mistakes
and all the…all the
pain
never happened.”

“I don’t want to go back. What we had was exciting and
wonderful, but you’re right, we’re different people. I’m not that moody kid with
the mountain-size chip on my shoulder anymore. I’m a man who has suddenly
realized he spent twenty years looking for something. It’s one hell of a kick in
the teeth to find out what I needed was right here where I started.”

She trembled, seduced by his words in spite of herself.
“There’s the difference between us. I’m not looking for anything. I lost my
daughter less than a year ago. My other daughter is in trouble in the most
old-fashioned meaning of the phrase. I’m empty inside, Jack. This last year has
been a fine and terrible hell I could never have imagined.”

With the rapid-fire emotional swings of the past year, she
could feel tears scorch her throat. She waited for them to pass, even as she
recognized that tears only reinforced her point. “I’m still wildly attracted to
you,” she finally said, after clearing them away. “That’s probably obvious. But
I’m not sure I’m healthy enough to bring my best self to a relationship right
now. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

“Okay. I can be flexible,” he said after a pause. “We don’t
have to tangle ourselves in a relationship. How about just meaningless sex?”

The words shocked a laugh out of her, and it took her a moment
to realize that was what he had intended. She definitely was still an emotional
train wreck if she could go from near tears to laughter and this wild heat in
just a matter of seconds.

She bumped her shoulder against his. “It wouldn’t be
meaningless. I think we both know that.”

Her words seemed to seethe and curl between them, and he said
nothing for a long time, while the endless creek bubbled beyond them and the
town lights glittered below and Puck snored softly in her lap.

“I’m willing to give you time, Maura,” he finally said. “We’ve
waited all these years. I can wait a little longer.”

“Jack—”

“Look, I told you I have to leave town next week for a job site
in Singapore. I’ll be running back and forth for at least a month. Why don’t we
put this discussion on hold for now and reassess when I get back?”

She wanted to tell him there was no point. What would possibly
change in a month? But then, if she had learned anything this past year, it was
the inescapable fact that a person’s life could shift in an instant.

“Yes,” she finally said. “Okay.”

Puck’s paws had been muddy, she realized, as Jack took her hand
to help her from the bench. Her clothes were covered in mud now from having him
on her lap, and Jack’s probably were too.

Spring was like that. Muddy and messy and hard. Rather like
life. But once you made it through the rough patches, it could also be sweet and
beautiful. Could she and Jack find their way into the sunshine? For the first
time in months, she wanted to find out.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

S
HE
REALLY
DIDN
’
T
WANT
to be here.

The third week in April, nearly a month after their dinner with
Harry Lange and the night she had walked to Sweet Laurel Falls with Jack, Maura
stood at a small, well-tended plot at the Hope’s Crossing cemetery. Whoever had
selected this spot for a cemetery back in the town’s rough and wild mining days
definitely had chosen wisely. On an easy, rolling foothill across from Woodrose
Mountain, the cemetery was a place of quiet serenity, with a lovely view of the
surrounding mountains and town.

Around her stood family members and friends, gathered along
with her to remember the one-year anniversary of Layla’s death. Nearly everyone
Maura cared about was there. Her mother and sisters, April Herrera and a few of
her other employees, some of Layla’s friends from school, just about all Maura’s
friends from the book group.

Katherine Thorne was there with Brodie and Evie, married just a
few weeks. Taryn stood beside them using only a small cane for support, which
Maura considered nothing short of a miracle, considering how badly injured
Layla’s best friend had been in the accident.

Even Harry Lange stood on the outskirts of the crowd, there but
somehow separated from the press of people.

Maura appreciated the outpouring of love and support. On some
level it warmed her deeply to know so many people had cared about her
daughter—and about those Layla had left behind.

Over the past year, though, she had come to accept that the
tangled path through loss and grief was mostly a solitary one. No one could help
her find her way through the briars and over the rocky screes. Others might lend
solace along the journey, but in the end, she—and everyone else who grieved—had
to take each long, difficult step alone.

If she’d had her way, she would have marked this anniversary in
some other way. A hike into the mountains with little Puck, or gathering her
friends together for some kind of service project, or even just throwing herself
into work for the day and letting it pass unnoticed except in her heart.

Sage had wanted this celebration of Layla’s life, though. She
had insisted on it and had worked out every detail, from scheduling the time to
sending out invitations. She had even arranged the small buffet luncheon at
Harry’s place, being catered by one of Brodie Thorne’s restaurants.

Maura thought she knew why this meant so much to Sage. While
Sage no doubt wanted to honor her younger sister’s life, Maura suspected it was
also a distraction, an excuse to think about something else for a while and put
off worrying about her pregnancy and the impending adoption.

With that in mind, she had decided she would let Sage have this
memorial service this year—and only this year. The town already had the Giving
Hope day around Layla’s birthday, a day when everyone gathered to help each
other by painting fences, doing yard work for the elderly, road cleanup.
Whatever needed to be done. To her mind, that was a beautiful way to honor her
daughter’s memory and celebrate her life.

In contrast to the day of the accident, when snow and ice in
the canyon had left the roads slick and dangerous, today was beautiful and
sunny, a lovely, mild spring day that was rare and precious in the high Rockies.
Spring had come early to Hope’s Crossing this year. Most of the snow in town was
gone, except for little patches under the sweeping branches of trees and on the
north side of structures that didn’t see much sun.

A light breeze stirred Sage’s hair as she began to speak to the
crowd. At nearly seven months pregnant, she looked round and soft and pretty.
“Thank you all for coming,” she said, smiling nervously. “It would have meant a
lot to Layla.”

She went on to talk about her sister and the people whose lives
she had touched. Even after her death, Layla was helping others, Sage said. The
scholarship fund in her name had already provided one year of college education
to three of her schoolmates at Hope’s Crossing High School and a year at a tech
trade school for another.

“I found this great quote online while I was preparing this
that really touched me. I have to see if I can get through this.” Tears swam in
Sage’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. Maura wanted to hug her, but she knew if she
did, Sage would lose her battle with tears.

She was deeply proud of her daughter when she drew in a breath
and sniffled a little but quickly regained control.

“It was an epitaph in an Irish cemetery and it just seems to
fit perfectly. It says, ‘Death leaves a heartache difficult to heal. Love leaves
sweet memories impossible to steal.’ I would like you to remember your sweet
memories of Layla. You’ve all been given an envelope containing a butterfly
ready to be released into the wild. I picked a butterfly release instead of
balloons because it’s better for the environment and because Layla always loved
them. She called them ‘flutties’ when she was a little kid. We have perfect
weather for those flutties today.”

She wiped a tear with one of Mary Ella’s embroidered
handkerchiefs. Maura saw her mother wipe one too. Even Alex, her youngest
sister, looked teary. “I found this other saying online. I couldn’t find who
wrote it, but I thought it was perfect. ‘Butterflies are symbols of hope. They
land beside us, like sunbeams, and belong to us for a moment, but then they fly
away. And while we wish they might have stayed longer to share their beauty, we
feel blessed for having s-seen them.’”

Another tear trickled down Sage’s cheek, and Maura finally
squeezed her hand as she fought her own tears. This was a celebration of life
and today she wanted to remember Layla with joy, not sadness.

“Now if you could all open your envelopes. According to the
company where I ordered them, the butterflies might need a moment to wake up
before they take flight.”

The next few moments were filled with rustling paper as the
butterfly envelopes Sage had handed out were opened by everyone.

Maura opened her own and watched the monarch butterfly climb
out to the edge of the paper and cling there for a moment, its wings reflecting
sunlight as they opened and closed a few times. Out of the corner of her eye,
she caught a few flashes of orange-and-black as other butterflies took flight,
but hers remained stubbornly on the paper. At last, when she had just about
given up, it finally took off, straight into the air.

Her heart in her throat, she followed its path and watched it
dip and soar, joining the hundred others. A few even landed on the headstone
before taking flight again.

Those assembled at the memorial watched for a moment. Her
sister Angie snapped some pictures of the butterflies flying off in all
directions.

“Thank you all again for coming,” Sage said after a short time.
“It means a lot to me and my mom. Feel free to stay and visit if you want, but
remember we’re going to Harry Lange’s house for dinner. If anybody doesn’t know
where that is, just ask me.”

Sage stepped back into the crowd to talk to her grandmother
before Maura had a chance to tell her what a wonderful job she had done. She
turned around to follow another butterfly’s flight, and suddenly her breath
caught when she spied a tall, dark-haired figure walking through the crowd
toward her.

Jack.

What was he doing here? He was supposed to be stuck in
Singapore for another few weeks, yet here he was, looking strong and
wonderful.

How on earth had he managed it? A week ago, he had told her the
office complex he had designed had run into some snags with the complicated
permit process in Singapore and he would have to stay longer than expected, at
least through the initial start-up process.

She stared, shock and a soft joy bursting through her. She
hadn’t seen him in
forever,
though they emailed
several times a day and talked on the phone at least three or four times a week.
Their phone calls had become a treasured part of her day. They laughed and
talked, sometimes for hours. She felt like she was seventeen again, having to
steal the landline receiver from one of her older sisters’ rooms.

Anticipation curled inside her as she watched him make his way
through the crowd to Sage. He said something to their daughter, pointing to her
expanding abdomen. She made a face but threw her arms around him, and he hugged
her tightly.

Right. That’s why he was there. He was Sage’s father. He was
here for their daughter, probably because she had asked him.

“It was a beautiful remembrance,” Mary Ella said beside
her.

She smiled at her mother. “Yes. Wasn’t it?”

“The butterflies were a really lovely touch. And weren’t we
lucky it was warm enough for them?”

“The company Sage purchased them from said it had to be at
least sixty-two degrees. It was sixty-four on our way here. We just made
it.”

“I’m glad,” Mary Ella said.

“Are you coming to Harry’s?”

Her mother made a face. “That man! I still don’t understand why
we couldn’t have it at my house or even Claire’s.”

“You have to admit, he’s got a little more room than either of
you.”

“He’s got enough room to fit the entire town if he wanted
to.”

“Which, of course, he does not.”

“I see Jackson made it, after all,” Mary Ella said.

She wondered if somehow some of the butterflies had made it to
her insides, as they rolled and jumped. Jack had come halfway across the world.
She still couldn’t quite believe it. “Yes. I just saw him. I haven’t talked to
him yet.”

“Here’s your chance now,” Mary Ella said softly. She stepped
away just as Jack approached.

“You’re here.” It was a stupid thing to say, but in that
moment, after these weeks of talking and coming to know each other again long
distance, she couldn’t think of anything else.

“I pulled some strings. Rearranged my schedule a little.”

“Thank you. I’m sure it means the world to Sage.”
And to me.

“Wouldn’t you know, for all my logistical maneuvering, I still
missed most of the memorial. My flight into Denver was delayed.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here. That’s the important
thing.”

He gazed down at her, blue eyes murky with emotion, and she was
nervous suddenly—until he reached out and pulled her into his embrace, and then
a soft, sweet warmth eased through her. Peace, she realized. Jack quieted the
storm inside her in a way no one else ever had.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she murmured, wishing they could
just stand like this, arms wrapped around each other, for the rest of the
day.

“I can’t stay long. I’m afraid I’m only in town for about
thirty-six hours before I have to fly back to Singapore.”

“Thirty-six hours?” She slid out of his arms to stare up at
him. “You flew all the way from Singapore for thirty-six hours?”

He didn’t answer, but she saw the truth in his eyes. He didn’t
even know Layla, yet he had come back—not just for Sage, but for her. He cared
about both of them enough to sacrifice his time and his energy—and probably more
money than she wanted to think about in last-minute airline fares—in order to be
here for them.

She smiled tremulously, wanting to take that knowledge and hold
it close to her heart. When he reached for her hand and slipped his fingers
through hers, she felt as light as those butterflies, despite the sadness that
lingered.

“Did Sage tell you we’re having dinner later at, um, Harry’s
place?”

He made a face. “She told me. You couldn’t find a better
venue?”

“Too bad for us, Buckingham Palace wasn’t available, so we had
to take the next best thing.”

He nudged her shoulder with his. “Smarty.”

She smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “Seriously, I had no
control over any of this. Everything was quite firmly taken out of my hands—Sage
and Harry cooked it up together. The two of them are becoming quite close.”

“Doesn’t that strike you as a little…ominous?”

She saw Sage now talking with her grandfather and Harry
was…gasp…smiling. “You’re not going to like hearing this, but Harry has actually
been very good to Sage. He’s great at distracting her when she starts to become
stressed about the baby and Sawyer and everything.” She cast a quick look around
to make sure no listening ears were nearby before she continued. “I think the
two of them are now in cahoots about the whole Angel of Hope thing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A few times, Sage has casually mentioned she has to go run
some errands with Harry, and then the next thing I know, I hear rumors about
another secret Angel mission, mysteriously coinciding with her errands. I don’t
know. I can’t quite see her doing the sneak-and-run thing while she’s almost
seven months pregnant, but I was thinking maybe she’s the wheelman, driving the
getaway car.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure I want to try picturing any of that.
I thought he would have stopped after we figured out his game.”

“Apparently not. The Angel is still making visits.”

She had spent years being angry at Harry, hating him for
causing Jack to leave, but she couldn’t deny that Harry had helped Sage through
this difficult time. If nothing else, he had provided a much-needed buffer
against the kinds of whispers or stares that Maura had endured as an unwed
mother.

Just like Laura Beaumont, most people in town didn’t dare say
anything offensive to Harry. Now that Harry’s relationship to Sage was beginning
to emerge, Maura’s daughter had benefited from the trickle-down effect of her
grandfather’s power and influence.

“I’m sure you’re not eager to spend more time at Harry’s
but…will you come?”

He squeezed her fingers. “Of course. I just endured a
twenty-two-hour flight with three connections. I can probably survive a few
hours of good food and pleasant company, even if they’re in less-than-desirable
surroundings.”