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They chatted for a short while longer, but it wasn’t the same. Emerson was monosyllabic and Marlena apparently became tired of trying to milk words from her. They hung up with Marlena promising to check back in a day or two. Emerson was left soaking in the bathtub for a long while. The water went from hot to tepid, then from tepid to almost chilly before she shook herself out of her thoughts and lifted herself from the tub. Her fingertips were wrinkled, and she was no longer relaxed. In fact, she felt just the opposite. Stressed. Tense. Irritated. Trapped.

Trapped.

That was a big one, one that didn’t sit well with her, and she suddenly felt the urge to set things in motion, finally, so she could get the hell out of Lake Henry. She needed to pack. She needed to sit down with Klein and Cross and bang out the sale of her mother’s properties. She needed to forget about the fact that Mary and Jack would probably lose their jobs. She needed to roll her eyes at the idea of working at a ski slope. She needed to not think about Cassie. Or Cassie’s rich brown eyes. Or Cassie’s infectious laugh. Or Cassie’s soft lips.

No! Stop it.

Scrubbing the towel over her face roughly, she put her thoughts in order, picked up her cell, and dialed the neighbor who’d been taking care of her apartment. She wanted to let him know she’d be home soon. She needed to get things taken care of and get the hell out of this godforsaken town.

She’d stayed too long already.

***

Emerson was quiet during the car ride, but Cassie was beginning to learn that sometimes, that’s how she was. Not everybody talked as much as Cassie did. Not everybody needed to process things out loud. Michael had reminded her of that several times during their relationship, and at first, Cassie was stung. Eventually, she realized that he was simply stating a fact, and she made an effort to be more cognizant of how others might be different from her. So instead of prodding her to talk, they drove in silence for a while, Gordie standing up in the back seat, his whole body thrumming with anticipation of this twice-monthly trip.

The Cotter’s Ridge Rehab Center was about thirty-five minutes from Lake Henry. Every other week, Cassie borrowed her mother’s car and she and Gordie piled in and drove to Cotter’s Ridge where they spent an hour or two with the patients. Gordie was a certified therapy dog, and the residents at the center always seemed to light up whenever he set foot in the door.

She’d called Emerson earlier and was instantly aware of a severe mood change on her part. After some prodding, she’d managed to glean that Emerson was at a loss at what to do with all Caroline’s clothes. Cassie suggested she bring some of them to the rehab center, as they worked with many different hospitals and organizations who were sure to have use for them.

So now, they sat in near-silence, the only sound being the low hum of the radio as Sara Bareilles sang mournfully about Manhattan.

At the center, lights shone brightly, and people milled around, medical staff in colorful scrubs, residents using canes, walkers, or wheelchairs. Many of them waved at Cassie when she and Gordie entered. Emerson followed.

“Hey, Cassie.” A tall, African-American woman in bright orange scrubs raised a hand in greeting, then came over to them, immediately squatting to give love to Gordie.

“Hi there, Nina.” She gave them a few moments, then said, “This is my friend, Emerson Rosberg. She has several bags of clothes out in the car for donation. Can you help her get them to the right place?”

Nina stood and shook Emerson’s hand. “Of course. We can always find people or places who need the donation.” With an arm outstretched toward the door, she said, “Lead the way.”

Cassie handed the keys to Emerson. “We’ll start making our rounds.” With a tug on Gordie’s leash, she headed down a hall. “Come on, boy.”

For the next hour and a half, Cassie took Gordie from room to room. Some people wanted to chat. Some didn’t want to say anything at all; they just wanted to pet Gordie. It always amazed Cassie, the way they would instantly calm, the way running a hand along his thick, soft fur could relax a person who might be on edge. Countless studies proved it to be true, but it was still an amazing thing to behold.

And Gordie, bless him, seemed to know why he was there. He tempered his excitement, his jumping, his licking, and remained calmly focused. He would hop up on a bed and lie down or sit next to a wheelchair and just…be present while he was scratched and stroked and talked to. Not for the first time, Cassie thanked the universe for sending her Gordie.

It wasn’t until they were wrapping up that Cassie realized Emerson had not caught up to them, and she felt guilty for not seeking her out. She and Gordie often lost track of time when they were at the rehab center, and she wondered if Emerson was sitting in the car, annoyed and waiting for her. She was grimacing at the thought when she turned the corner to the common room and saw the back of a familiar blonde head sitting next to an old man in a wheelchair. Very little hair sprouted from his head, and what was there was a powdery white. He had one leg wrapped in a knee brace and propped straight out in front of him. Something made Cassie stop there and listen rather than interrupt.

“You’re kidding,” the man said. “You’re too young.”

“Apparently not,” Emerson replied with a grin.

“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

A shrug. “Skiing accident. I was dumb. You?”

“Fell off a ladder. I was dumb, too.”

Cassie smiled at the sound of Emerson’s warm chuckle as she asked, “How’s it going?”

“Hurts like a son of a bitch,” the man growled. “Pardon my French.”

“It’ll get better. But I’ll tell you this: you have to do the exercises the physical therapist gives you. You
have
to.”

The man waved a dismissive hand and scoffed. “That punk is trying to kill me. I know it.”

“It feels like it, doesn’t it? I know what you mean.” Emerson shook her head. “I called my PT Nurse Ratched. I swore to god, her goal every session was to see how quickly she could make me cry. The woman was a sadist.”

The man grunted as he gave a nod.

Emerson went on. “But.” She stopped until the man looked at her. “I did the exercises. I was determined that she was not going to win the battle, that I would eventually be able to walk with no problems. And
then
I would kick her ass. Pardon my French.”

“And what happened?”

Emerson stood up, walked to the far wall of the room and back. “I can walk with no problem.”

“Did you kick her ass?”

A smile slowly spread across Emerson’s face. “I did not. Know why?”

“Why?”

“Because the first time I walked like this, Nurse Ratched cried.”

“She what?”

“She actually cried. I kid you not. She was so happy for me that she got all teary.” Emerson sat back down and lowered her voice. “You can’t really kick somebody’s ass when they’re crying.”

The man shook his head. “Nah, you can’t. Just makes you look like the asshole. Pardon my French.”

Emerson laughed then, and Cassie felt it in the pit of her stomach. It was a joyous sound that tickled her heart, and she was immediately sad she didn’t hear it more often. Ice-blue eyes caught Cassie’s brown ones, and she gave a little wave.

“My ride’s here,” she said, standing. “You take care of yourself, Mr. Kendall. Okay?” She pointed a finger at him. “Do the exercises.”

Mr. Kendall gave Emerson a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” He grasped her arm before she could walk away. “You know, I’m going to be here for a few weeks. Stop by again if you’re in the neighborhood.”

“I will.” Emerson gave his hand a pat, then walked up to Cassie and Gordie. “Ready to go?”

Cassie nodded, and they filed out the front door, waving to Nina as they left.

Once they got situated in the car and were on their way back to Lake Henry, Cassie spoke. “That was pretty amazing.”

“What? Gordie and the patients? I’m not surprised at all that he’s a great therapy dog.”

“No, silly. You and that man.”

Emerson furrowed her brow before catching on. “Oh, Mr. Kendall? He had a knee replacement last week.”

“You were great with him.”

Emerson shrugged.

“I mean it.” Cassie laid a hand on Emerson’s arm to emphasize as she repeated, “You were great with him. Not everybody has that. Building a rapport with somebody who’s depressed or in pain…it’s not easy.”

“I guess all my time in rehab and PT helps me. It was a long time ago, but I can still understand where they’re coming from, what they’re feeling, how angry they can get. I think it helps to talk to somebody who actually
gets it
, you know? Instead of people who are just trying to pacify you.” She was quiet for a beat before adding, “I know the medical staff means well. The doctors, the nurses, the physical therapists. But nobody can
really
understand that kind of pain and frustration unless they’ve actually been there, actually experienced it for themselves.”

The tone of protection in her voice had Cassie glancing at her, at the clean lines of her face, at the slight downturn of her eyebrows, at her hands in her lap, long fingers folded together, and she felt something inside. Something warm, something tender. Cassie wanted to touch her face, to run her fingertips along Emerson’s smooth skin. When Emerson met her eyes, she smiled gently and returned her gaze to the road, keeping her hands on the steering wheel.

“Thanks for bringing me with you,” Emerson said quietly.

“Thanks for coming.” This time, Cassie gave in and reached across to take one of Emerson’s hands in her own. To her delight, Emerson entwined their fingers and squeezed.

Fried chicken was Chris’s
specialty. Or it was the only thing her kids would eat. Cassie wasn’t sure. All she knew was that every time she came to dinner, Chris made fried chicken. Which was okay because it was fantastic.

Trevor had come in from hockey practice forty minutes ago. Thirty minutes ago, he’d turned on the shower. It still ran.

“How long do fourteen-year-old boys spend in the shower these days?” Cassie asked her sister, and popped a baby carrot into her mouth as she chopped vegetables for salad.

Chris rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started. I don’t even want to know what he does in there.” She made a face. “If I have to choose between him taking hour-long showers or not showering at all, I’ll put up with the showers. Did you smell him when he came in?”

Cassie grimaced. “I did.”

“Yeah, nothing can wilt fresh flowers or peel the paint off the walls like teenage boy sweat. You should smell his sneakers.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Chris topped off their wine glasses. “So how’s life? I feel like I haven’t seen you since Halloween.”

“That’s because you haven’t.” Cassie grinned and touched her glass to her sister’s. “Life is good. Practice is going well. I’ve got a couple new girls who aren’t bad.”

“Enough for a team this year?”

Cassie gave a snort. “Of course not. They’ll play with the regional team.”

“Hockey isn’t really a girl’s game.”

“Really? We’re going to go there? Again?” The twinkle in Cassie’s eye took any sting out of the words. It was an age-old argument they’d had since they were kids and Cassie had wanted to play on the boys’ team.

Chris laughed. “No, let’s not go there. You know I’m right. I’ll accept that.” She ducked as a baby carrot flew by her head. “Hey! Don’t let my kids see you throwing food. They’ll think they can too.”

They continued working in tandem to prepare dinner. Chris’s husband was working a late night, so it was just the sisters and the kids. Cassie loved having dinner there. She loved the atmosphere of the happy home, so much like their parents’ house where they grew up. Chris had done a fabulous job raising her kids and maintaining her household. It wasn’t large, but it was roomy enough, and the love was palpable. Cassie wanted nothing more than the same kind of life Chris had: happy marriage, a home, love.

Chris glanced out the window over the sink as she stood at the stove turning chicken in the pan. “It’s getting dark fast. Man, fall flew by.”

“I know. I feel like the leaves turned colors for a week and that was that.”

“So much for the fall tourist season.” Chris shrugged. “I heard the view from Jones Mountain has been less than stellar as well. Bad for business, Mother Nature. Bad for business.”

“We had a great view the other day,” Cassie commented, shucking the seeds and membranes from a green pepper.

“We? Who’s we?”

“Me and Emerson. We rode the bike trail up Jones yesterday. Then we took the elevator up to the top. The visibility sign said zero, so we weren’t expecting much. We got up there and the clouds were pretty thick. We sat down and all of a sudden, they just blew away. Literally, they just blew away, and we could see for miles. It was unbelievable.”

Chris was nodding, but the expression on her face was…odd. Cassie chose to ignore it.

“Then she went with me to the rehab center. You should have seen her with this old man who was having knee issues. She was amazing. She just…
talked
to him. Like, person to person instead of talking down to him. It was awesome.”

Chris continued to say nothing as Cassie squinted at her.

“What?”

“What what?” Chris replied.

“What’s that face for?”

“I’m not making a face.”

“You are totally making a face.”

“Am not.”

“Chris.” Cassie set the knife down and cocked her head sideways.

Chris sighed, but kept her eyes on the chicken. “I guess I’m just wondering what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“With Emerson. What are you doing?”

Cassie shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing. I’ve spent some time with her. Is that a crime?” She sounded way more defensive than she’d hoped, and she knew immediately that her sister had picked up on it.

“Of course not. I just want you to be careful.”

“Of what?”

Chris looked at her now, exasperated. “Of
her
. I know you, Cassandra. You fall fast and you fall hard and you’re already well on your way with this woman.”