Sunflower Lane (19 page)

Wes didn’t think anything could distract him from the amazing night he’d spent with Annabelle, but the session at Jake’s retreat came pretty damned close.

He’d brought Ethan and his friend Jimmy along. From the moment Ethan heard what Wes was doing today, he’d begged to come, and then Jimmy’s mom gave in to her son’s pleas and dropped him off at Sunflower Lane so he could sit in on Wes’s talk, too.

Those kids!
he reflected later. Not just Ethan and Jimmy, but all the boys and girls at Jake’s lodge. There was a huge assortment of kids and ages—black, white, Hispanic, Native American, and everything beyond and in between. From eight-year-olds to young teens.

Man, they were quiet and sat real still at first—they seemed very intimidated. But halfway through the session—right around the time he told them about how making a pile of three of anything—rocks, branches, whatever—was the
international symbol of distress, they got into it and started bombarding him with questions, wanting to know whether he’d take them camping, and whether they could learn how to pitch a tent and make a fire, and if he’d teach them how to use a compass.

Wes found himself loving every minute of it. Before he even realized it, he’d promised to look into the possibility of taking several groups on a hike before their time at the retreat ended.

The kids crowded around him at the end of the hour, all smiles, and asking a million questions. Only when Jake’s beautiful redheaded wife, Carly, popped in and told them it was time for snacks and then riding lessons did they stream out the door.

While Ethan and Jimmy tagged along to get some snacks, Jake came forward with a big grin and immediately started talking to Wes about plans for the prospective hike, perhaps later in the week. Right when he asked whether Wes would be willing to speak to the next group of kids coming in the following week, they were interrupted by the ring of Wes’s cell phone. He pulled it from his pocket.

“Hey, I know you’re busy.” Jake clamped a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll talk later, try to figure out a schedule that works for you.”

As Jake took off for the barn where another group of kids were saddling horses, Wes read the name illuminated by his caller ID.

Teddy Hodge.

He picked up, noting that Ethan and Jimmy were standing at the corral, admiring the dozen or so horses scattered inside the fence.

“Wes, we got a situation here. Thought you’d like to know.” Hodge wasted no time with niceties. His tone was as grim as Wes had ever heard it.

“What’s going on?” He wondered whether this had to do
with Clay and his ex-wife and kid.
What now?
he thought with a frown.
What did that asshole do? I should’ve beat the crap out of him in high school when he talked shit about Annabelle. Instead of letting it go on, looking the other way, barely noticing because I was so hung up on my own damned family problems. Namely Hoot . . .

But the sheriff’s next words made it clear this had nothing to do with Clay Johnson.

“That missing hiker? Turned up early this morning on Storm Mountain,” Hodge said heavily. “Couple of hunters spotted him—what was left of him. Not far from Coyote Pass, at the bottom of a ravine.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Looks like the coyotes or wolves—or maybe a bear—got to him. Pretty ugly scene. The county medical examiner is taking a look, but it appears he must’ve had a fall, and died from a combination of his injuries and exposure.”

“Sorry to hear it.” Wes was no longer seeing the kids racing around in high spirits, or hearing the whinnying of horses from the corral.

He was seeing a man in the wilderness, dying alone.

“I don’t think he had much experience in these parts, but he did have some other kind of knowledge. I finally learned what he was doing up there. The young man was a graduate student in American history, writing a dissertation on the Old West. Like too many fools before him, he must have got too deep into his research. Seems he was searching for gold—the missing gold bars stolen by the Henry Barnum gang. He had some maps and notes in his backpack. And a list of sources. Everything indicated he was headed for Coyote Pass.”

Word spread quickly that the lost hiker the town had been speculating about for weeks had been found dead.

Rumors that he’d been shot while searching for treasure swirled like dark smoke after a fire. Sheriff Hodge put out the flames, though, releasing a statement that Randy Kirk had died of injuries from a fall and exposure.

A few days later, Kirk’s sister returned to claim the body.

“Damn it,” the sheriff told Wes the next day in his office. He banged a thick fist in frustration on his desk.

“We scoured those mountains, the valleys, the ravines . . . miles of ’em . . . searched high and low in every nook and cranny we could find, and we never spotted Kirk. Didn’t find a fucking thing. If he’d been conscious, able to answer our calls, maybe . . .” He broke off and shook his head.

Wes’s mind raced, trying to recall the rugged terrain near Coyote Pass where the hiker had been found. He could picture the ridges and valleys and steep trails of the region in his mind. He hadn’t been back up that way in a lot of years, though when he was a kid, he’d been fairly familiar with it. There’d been a swimming hole deemed too remote and dangerous by parents and teachers, but of course he and Clay, Tobe, and his other friends had congregated there. Cougar Rock, the favorite high school make-out spot, was less than three miles from the swimming hole. Wes had wandered the area a whole lot back in the day, alone and with friends and girlfriends, but he hadn’t set eyes on it in a long time.

“Teddy, you did your best.” There was sympathy in his voice. “He didn’t tell anyone where he was headed, and you had a lot of territory to cover. Welcome to my world, times a hundred. Why do you think so many agents in the DEA burn out after ten, fifteen, twenty years? You can only take so much blood and loss, and much of the time, murder and death, before you start to wonder if it’s worth it. Any of it. The losses usually add up a lot faster than the wins. But then—coming back to a place like this—”

He paused, glancing briefly out the sheriff’s window with its view of Main Street. He could see women in the park,
talking, pushing children on swings, and teenagers laughing, streaming into Head to Toe to buy T-shirts and jeans and bathing suits.

“Maybe that’s part of why I came back,” Wes muttered. “I didn’t even realize it at first, but I don’t think it was just my grandmother’s accident that brought me. I guess I needed to remind myself of a few things. That there’s more to life than bullets and greed and bad guys. And that there are still good people and places in this world. Neighbors who care about each other. Families that stick together. Unfortunately,” he said in a low tone, thinking of the hiker’s brutal death, “sometimes the bad stuff still isn’t all that far away.”

“I hear you.” Nodding, Sheriff Hodge leaned his big frame back in his chair and folded his arms across his middle. “Thank God I have Joanie to go home to every night. And Madison—that’s my granddaughter—she lives right here in town. I suspect she and her young man—Brady Farraday—will be tying the knot pretty soon—and then I’m looking forward to some great-grandchildren to bounce on my knee.”

His eyes lit up as he mentioned his granddaughter. Wes was sure he’d never seen the sheriff look happier.

“It does keep things in perspective when you have good things going on around you,” Hodge continued. “You don’t get so caught up in the ugly stuff. Of course, it’s the
job
; there’s no way around it—but a man needs something to keep the bleakness away.”

His words hit home. They rolled around Wes’s head, and fell into place.
Yeah.
For a long time, he hadn’t let himself think it all the way through—at least not in so many words—but Hodge was damned right. A man needed something . . . someone . . . to keep the bleakness at bay.

Instantly, an image of Annabelle seated at his kitchen table the other morning, fresh and laughing and gorgeous in nothing but one of his shirts, popped into his mind.

He tried to push that pretty picture away as he stood and shook hands with the sheriff.

“Hope the next one’s a win, Teddy.”

“Me, too. Luckily, we’ve got a peaceful, decent town here. Good folks. And a nice influx of tourists adding to the economy in the past year,” the sheriff added.

Then he gave his head a rueful shake, remembering the tourist who wasn’t going to make it back home. “Maybe after the Fourth of July and the parade, we can get an ordinance passed, letting us put up signs on the doors of every restaurant and shop in town. ‘Welcome to Lonesome Way but don’t wander out in the wilderness if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.’”

The following Saturday, Annabelle arrived at Charlotte’s bridal shower the same time as Tess, who looked glowing and happy and very pregnant. Realizing they were the first guests to arrive, they grinned and chatted excitedly as they walked up the path to the Victorian house of Charlotte’s aunt Susie, carrying their covered dishes.

Charlotte’s aunt had offered her home for the shower and she greeted them warmly, as did Patricia, Charlotte’s mother. She looked bright and flushed with excitement in a pretty floral, cap-sleeved dress. Ushered through the bright, spotless house by the two women, Annabelle and Tess stepped out through a set of sliding glass doors and into a large delightful garden.

“How beautiful,” Annabelle breathed. And it was.

Susie Walker’s garden was a large, expansive space, gorgeously decorated with streamers and balloons and paper hearts dangling from tree branches. The two long tables
where lunch would be served were draped with a lavender lace cloth and bedecked with potted mint plants and slender vases of flowers. Bright pink and cream dishes and glittering crystal glassware sparkled in the June sunshine.

“You did bring your mother’s macaroni salad, didn’t you?” Patricia asked eagerly, and Annabelle smiled.

“Of course.” She handed the casserole dish over. “And chocolates for all the candy dishes and favors. I have the favors in little gilt bags. Also a strawberry pie. I need to run back to the car for all that.”

“Your mother brought that macaroni salad to
my
bridal shower,” Charlotte’s mother told her fondly. “Everyone loved it. It’s still my favorite.”

Tess handed over her tray of delicate finger sandwiches to Susie. There was tuna salad, chicken salad, and egg salad. Charlotte’s aunt divided them into pretty oval silver trays on each table, beside pitchers of iced tea and large cut-glass bowls of fresh fruit salad.

“I’m not sure we have enough food,” Tess joked, eyeing the tables, which were beautiful, colorful, and filled with an array of tempting dishes, from cucumber–cream cheese bites to veggie platters, a huge green salad, and deviled eggs.

“Oh, there’s plenty more coming.” Aunt Susie laughed. “For one thing, my turkey casserole and buttermilk biscuits are still warming in the oven.”

Then more guests began streaming in, including Charlotte, lovely and flushed with excitement, greeting everyone and fairly bouncing in anticipation. She looked gorgeous in a bright blue silk dress and small gold heart earrings, and was smiling from ear to ear.

When Sophie and her mother and grandmother arrived, Ava Louise Todd spotted Annabelle immediately, and zoomed right over, her long white braid sweeping elegantly down her back, her wrist still encased in a cast.

“I heard my grandson is babysitting your nieces and
nephew today.” Her face beamed. “From what I gather, he’s grown quite fond of those children.”

“Yes, he has . . . I mean, I think he has. . . .” She found herself stammering. Damn it. Why did the very direct gleam in Mrs. Todd’s eyes always disconcert her? Probably because she knew just what Ava Louise Todd was up to, and everyone within hearing distance knew it, too.

Annabelle saw looks and smiles being exchanged between Martha and Dorothy, and several other women, and felt a blush warming her cheeks. “Ivy was planning to babysit, but she called this morning and told me she has a cold, so Wes stepped in—” she explained, but Ava interrupted her with a broad smile.

“Of course he did. Wes is a man you can count on in a pinch. And you know those children are in good hands with him. My grandson might look tough as all get-out—some might even consider him intimidating—but he’s the kindest, finest man you’ll ever meet. Next to Sophie’s Rafe, that is,” she added sunnily as she noticed the other women listening to the conversation. “And your Jake, of course, Carly. And your dear Travis, Mia,” she added, twinkling at the stunning blonde who was Sophie’s best friend and married to Travis Tanner. “And then there’s your John, Tess. And of course, Charlotte’s dear Tim—”

“Gran.” Sophie snagged her good arm. “You’re right, the men in this town are all paragons. For the most part,” she added with a little shake of her head. “I just found your place card. Let me show you where you’re sitting—”

“Oh, not just yet, dear. I forgot to mention your mother’s dear husband, Doug Hartigan. Such a lovely man, and a big improvement, as we all know, over Hoot—well, I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but—”

“Mom,” Diana interrupted, “let’s get you settled. I think the meal is about to start. Would you like some iced tea?”

“I’d love some,” Tess jumped in. “Iced tea sounds great. Let me pour you a glass, Mrs. Todd.”

Annabelle hunted for her own place card as Charlotte hugged first her mother and then her aunt. Then she embraced Tim’s mother, who was slightly overdressed in a lacy sheath and large pearl earrings.

“You all look so beautiful, and everything looks wonderful. Thank you for doing this! You all know I’m superstitious, but today I feel very,
very
lucky, and it’s because I have all of you!”

It was a lively lunch, enjoyed by women who’d mostly all known and enjoyed one another’s company for years. And after those first embarrassing moments of being startled by Ava’s eager endorsement of her grandson’s good qualities, Annabelle relaxed and enjoyed herself.

Privately, she thought it was very kind of Wes to volunteer to watch the kids. But it wasn’t surprising, now that she’d come to know him. Right before she’d left her house, he’d drawn her into the kitchen for a long, deep kiss that almost made her want to stay right there in his arms. But when she’d finally forced herself to head to the door, he’d helped her load the party food and Charlotte’s gift into the car, and the last glimpse she’d had of him, he’d been settling into an armchair in the living room, flipping the tab on a can of Coke, while the kids were already clustered on the sofa, watching an episode of
Lassie
on DVD.

They were all into it, not only Megan. But it had stunned Annabelle that her niece, who was so afraid of dogs, absolutely loved this show about Lassie! She took it all in, fascinated, even shushing Michelle and Ethan as they gasped when something dangerous happened to Timmy, or when they clapped and laughed after Lassie saved the day.

Megan did none of that. She just stared, unmoving, at the flat-screen, and at Lassie, her rapt gaze following the dog everywhere.

“Who made this amazing strawberry pie?” A sweet voice broke into her thoughts. Ava Louise Todd’s voice.

She realized that everyone was halfway finished with their coffee and dessert and she’d taken only one bite of Charlotte’s mom’s famous cream cheese–frosted carrot cake.

“That would be Annabelle.” Charlotte grinned. “The only thing better than her strawberry pie is her homemade chocolates.” She snagged one of the wedding bell chocolates from the candy dish, popped it into her mouth, then pushed back her chair. “I’m dying to open my gifts. Can I start now? If there’s any sexy stuff, I’m just saying, I want to open that first!”

Everyone laughed. Still smiling, Annabelle stood to help clear the tables as the guests began pouring into the house, settling on the sofa and some armchairs and folding chairs to watch Charlotte open her gifts. As she moved toward the sliding glass doors, her arms laden with plates, she saw Diana Hartigan and Sophie had also been stacking dishes to bring indoors. But while Sophie was chatting and laughing with Mia as they gathered up plates and silverware and serving pieces, Diana stood stock-still. Her unreadable but unsmiling gaze was fixed intently on Annabelle.

She looked . . . tense. It was the only way to describe it.

How long has she been staring at me?
Annabelle wondered with a jolt. The very instant Annabelle met her gaze, Diana seemed to freeze. Then, without so much as a nod or a word spoken, she quickly looked away, started toward the house, and slipped inside with her armload of plates and silverware.

She hates me. She definitely hates me. And she hates the idea of my being involved with her son in any way at all.

A weight seemed to anchor deep in her chest as she carried the big fruit bowl toward the house. She tried to ease the pain tightening her throat, telling herself she couldn’t really blame Diana. The hurt of her husband’s affair with Aunt Lorelei, and the hugely public revelation of it, had
spread through Lonesome Way like a dozen wildfires blazing all at once.

That time in Diana’s life couldn’t have been anything less than agonizing. Aside from the devastating pain of her husband cheating on her, it had been a highly public scandal that had circled through the town, rocking everyone. Not only Diana’s closest friends and family knew what Hoot had done, and how much he’d hurt her, but everyone in Lonesome Way knew as well, and even those in outlying areas as far away as Big Timber, Bozeman, and Livingston had probably heard about Hoot McPhee and the wife of Lonesome Way’s mayor.

It was front-page news for weeks.

Annabelle understood all that. She was ashamed that her aunt had done something so despicable and caused such pain not only to another woman, but to another family. And she supposed she really couldn’t blame Wes’s mother for reliving it all every time she saw Annabelle. Even though Diana was now happily remarried, and Hoot was dead, Diana had no doubt been irreparably scarred by her husband’s affair.

Even hearing her son’s name linked with Lorelei’s niece had to shatter the woman with a devastating reminder of that time when her marriage had been torn apart in the most humiliating way possible.

She must despise the thought of Wes being anywhere near me,
Annabelle realized.

No small wonder that when Ava had pressed about a possible romance between her and Wes—none too subtly—Diana looked like she wanted to walk out of the room.

Her thoughts were interrupted by oohs and ahhs and laughter. Charlotte was holding up a delicate ivory silk negligee. The older women smiled appreciatively, while the younger ones laughed and applauded. Tess was unwrapping swirls of ribbon and gaily colored paper from the next gift, which turned out to be a set of three cast-iron frying pans, large, medium, and small, along with a cookbook.

Annabelle hurried forward to help repack the opened gifts. There were beautiful candlesticks, lovely crystal bowls, several sets of place mats and matching cloth napkins, a gorgeous silk tasseled table runner, and, from Carly Tanner, a lovely blue, violet, and yellow good-luck-charm quilt.

Annabelle tried hard to focus on Charlotte’s delight at each gift, and to forget about the things she couldn’t change—including the sensibilities of a woman who’d been hurt beyond repair. Diana McPhee would be relieved soon enough when Wes left for Wyoming and began his new career.

Far away from me. And I’ll get back to my own life. . . .

She knew she needed to simply ignore that raw splinter twisting through her heart whenever she thought ahead to the fifth of July—the day Wes would actually leave town.

It would be hard, she knew, but she’d have to get past it.

Thank heavens she was plenty busy with the kids—and a month after Wes left, they’d be getting ready to go back to school. By September there’d be homework and after-school sports and activities. She’d start trying to get her chocolate business launched—in a small way, at first—and maybe she’d find a paying renter for the cabin.

She’d probably be so busy she wouldn’t even have time to miss him.

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

Suddenly, she heard a gasp and a scream. Her attention was yanked back to the pretty living room where the gifts were being opened.

But Charlotte wasn’t opening anything. She was frozen, holding up a crystal pitcher for all to see, and she was staring. Everyone was staring.

At Tess.

“What just . . . Oh my God,” Tess gulped. She grabbed the arm of a chair and sank down. Her face turned pale, and Annabelle rushed to her, as did Charlotte, who stared at the liquid running down Tess’s legs.

“Her water just broke,” Ava Louise Todd announced crisply. She stood, taking charge as Patricia and Susie rushed forward to Tess’s side. “Clear the way. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the rest of the presents for later, Charlotte. Someone needs to get this little mama to the hospital right now!”

“John! I need John,” Tess gasped. She looked scared to death.

“We’ll get him for you, honey.” Annabelle knelt beside Charlotte’s mother, and took Tess’s hand.

“Are you having contractions?” Dorothy, who’d been the high school principal for decades before she retired, got right to the point of the matter.

“No . . . I’m . . . not sure. . . . I don’t think so. . . .”

“Tess, do you think you can walk? Just out to my car?” Annabelle studied her friend’s panicked face. “I’ll drive you to the hospital right now. I think John should meet us there.”

“Take my car,” Charlotte’s mom piped up quickly. “It’s a Chevy and not an SUV. She won’t have to step up, just slide inside.”

“Towels, we need towels,” Charlotte told Aunt Susie.

“Yes! What’s wrong with me? One minute.” Susie hurried off to the linen closet while Annabelle speed-dialed John.