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The tiny hairs at the base of my neck lifted as the light breeze stirred the air with the promise of a new day. Yet there was something elusive, a sense it was going to storm, though not a single cloud marred the vast blue sky. I tipped my head toward the bright morning sun and shielded my eyes, shaking off the shiver working its way down my spine. The beautiful day was unseasonably warm for late autumn, and nothing was going to ruin it.
Turning my attention back to the Leica in my hands, I tapped its digital screen to enlarge the photo. Looking at the image, I could almost feel the spray of the rushing water as it cascaded over the cliff and poured into the river below. It was one of my favorite pictures from the trip so far, and I wanted to get a few more shots before the sun moved out of position. The climb down would’ve been easier with a second person, but Derek was probably halfway back to Seattle by now. For a moment I cursed my decision to let him go on without me.
It was a gorgeous scene but not easily navigated and definitely not for the faint of heart. Not wanting to drag another person plus tons of equipment down to the waterfall, I’d let my assistant head home to relax for the rest of the weekend. Just like me, he spent most of his time traveling for work; he deserved some time off. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to go it alone, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Dropping to one knee on the sun-warmed boulder, I stowed my camera in my bag, then slung it across my body before beginning my descent. It took me almost twenty minutes to make my way to the base of the fall, angling downward at an easy pace so as not to lose my footing and plummet over the cliff. Although I was in good shape, thanks to all the physical demands my job as a photographer for a travel magazine required, I was still cautious and took my time. The last thing I needed was to fall; the closest person was probably five miles away.
Whoever dubbed midwestern states the “flyover states” had clearly never experienced them firsthand. People missed all kinds of good stuff; they flew right over and never knew what was below. Idaho tended to get lumped into this group, as most people thought only of potatoes when the state was mentioned. Ironically, its official nickname was the Gem State after the several dozen precious gemstones found there. And speaking of gems—figuratively, of course—I’d been ecstatic to find this remote waterfall. Unknown and tucked away, I’d stumbled upon it by accident on the way home from my last project in Arizona. Unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t stay that way once my photos were published.
Just days ago I’d left the Grand Canyon, having been stuck in the sweltering heat for two weeks while I photographed the rock formations and surrounding desert. I opted to drive back roads on the way home, winding through northern Idaho. I needed to be back in Seattle by tomorrow so I could get the proofs turned in, but I was going to make the most of my last day. It would be a long drive, but finding this place was worth it.
Keeping my back to the wall of the cliff, I shuffled along the narrow ledge and gradually made my way to the base of the fall. A fine spray misted over me, cooling my overheated skin as the tiny particles wafted through the air. I wiped the moisture away and a silly grin split my mouth. I adored nature, loved everything about it, and a moment like this made all the hard work worth it.
Directly behind the fall was a large, flat rock, and I turned to head toward it. Hopefully I could get a good shot from inside the small alcove. The rocks were slick, and I crawled carefully behind the curtain of cascading water. The temperature dropped significantly in the shade, and the sound of rushing water filled my ears.
Dropping to one knee, I pulled out my camera and adjusted the settings, taking a couple practice shots to check the lighting. Inside this hidden little space, I was safe and relatively dry. The shutter clicked quietly with each shot, and a thrill of happiness mixed with apprehension skittered through me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled once more and I lowered my camera, looking around for the source of my discomfort.
My first thought was an animal had crept near while I’d been distracted. Tons of wildlife lived by the river. When I’d reached the bank of the falls, I’d gotten a few shots of birds and deer congregated along the muddy bank, but they’d fled as soon as they realized I was there.
Swiveling my head to each side, I saw nothing out of place. A sudden melodic jingle cut through the quiet, startling me. I flicked another quick glance around before pulling my phone from its waterproof case. A number I didn’t recognize flashed across the screen, and I debated answering for a moment before sliding my thumb over the screen.
“Amelia Hamilton.”
“Ms. Hamilton? This is...”
I turned around and covered my ear to block the rushing sound from the waterfall a dozen feet behind me, drowning out the caller’s voice. “I’m sorry. Could you speak up a bit?”
“My name is Paul Jeffries, and I’m calling from Jeffries and Son Law Firm.”
I rolled my eyes. It was probably regarding some jerk trying to pass my work off as a copy to discredit me. “I apologize, Mr. Jeffries, but all of my work is licensed. I can direct you to my agent to clarify the mix-up.”
“Ah, no.” It sounded like he cleared his throat. “I’m calling in regards to your father.”
I almost laughed. Considering I hadn’t seen him in almost two years, he was the last person I expected to hear about. From what I’d heard Hamilton Construction was doing well, so I couldn’t imagine it had anything to do with his business—unless he was being sued. Dad had reached out to me several times over the past year, but I’d ignored him each time. He’d begged me during our last dinner to forgive and forget. But I wasn’t ready—I might never be ready.
I sighed. “What does he want now?”
“I...” He paused for a moment, and my irritation level ratcheted up.
“Did he ask you to reach out to me?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’d like to speak with you regarding the reading of his will.”
“I’m sorry?” A cold shiver of apprehension snaked down my spine, turning my blood to ice, and the dread I’d felt earlier returned full force. Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly? “Can you repeat that?”
There was no mistaking the sympathy in the man’s voice. “I’m sorry, miss. I thought you were aware. Your father passed away last week.”
*
I TIPPED THE GLASS of wine up and drained the remainder of the sweet liquid, my eyes trained on the photo I’d taken behind the waterfall—the exact spot where I’d learned of my father’s death. It didn’t surprise me in the least that my stepmother Janine hadn’t reached out to me. We weren’t friendly on the best of days. I’d heard that my father had lived separately from the woman for the last year or so, but he hadn’t actually gotten around to filing for divorce.
It was a surprise, however, when my phone rang and Brent’s name lit up the screen. Janine’s only son, my stepbrother, Brent, was a good guy, smart and successful, and I never could figure out why he hadn’t married. Average height with more than passable looks, he had a heart of gold, and any girl would be lucky to catch him. On top of that, his job as an investment banker earned him a hefty salary. Not that I would ever condone marrying for money, but he had more than enough to live comfortably.
I slid a finger over the screen. “Hey, Brent. What’s up?”
“Hey, just calling to make sure you got in okay.”
“Yep.” I resituated myself, tucking my feet beneath me as I curled into the corner of the couch. “Got in yesterday morning. You hear the news?”
“Yeah.” He paused for a moment. “Have you been drinking?”
I glanced at the nearly empty bottle and smiled, wondering if I was slurring my words already. “Is it that obvious?”
“I’ve never known you to drink, that’s all.”
“Don’t you think the occasion calls for it?”
He sighed on the other end of the line. “Touché. I’m sorry about your dad, by the way.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
We remained quiet for a moment before Brent spoke up. “I know you two weren’t close, but how are you doing?”
I lifted a shoulder as I contemplated how to answer. To say things with my father were complicated would be an understatement—but that was nothing new. My mother passed away from cancer when I was barely three, so my father had been forced to act as both father and mother while trying to run a large construction company. We stumbled along together for a few years, but construction sites were no place for a little girl. Frazzled and frustrated, he finally realized how out of his depth he was at trying to do it all. His business was growing by leaps and bounds, and he couldn’t handle raising a little girl.
Oh, my father had loved me well enough—in his own way. Larger than life, Dad had been a man’s man. But he’d known nothing of a little girl’s likes and dislikes. As a child, I’d loved spending time with him at various construction sites, learning the ropes. I remembered sitting in his lap in one of the machines as he guided my hands, helping me operate the controls. The older I’d gotten, though, the more he’d distanced himself from me. He thought it was best for me to have a female influence, someone to bestow on me ladylike manners and comportment. My gaze dropped to my stained sweats, and the corner of my mouth lifted. I wasn’t sure his plan worked.
By the time I turned six, he’d hired a full-time nanny to look after me. A smile quirked my lips at the thought of the tiny but dynamic woman I spent so many years with. Five-foot-nothing, Fatima was sweet and grandmotherly with a backbone of steel. She’d raised four children of her own, and she ran a tight ship. I still spoke with Fatima from time to time and we exchanged Christmas and birthday cards. But, like every other relationship of mine, this one had diminished as well. We spoke less frequently now, though I knew I was mostly at fault. Because I traveled so often, many of my friendships had fallen by the wayside. I could blame it on work, but the real problem was that I didn’t put in the time. It wasn’t that hard to make a single phone call—I chose not to. If I were really honest with myself, I feared the rejection I might one day receive from another person I loved. First my ex-husband Jack, then my father. I couldn’t bear to lose another person close to me.
“I’m fine.”
“Really.” The single word wasn’t so much a question as it was a demand to tell him the truth, and I rolled my eyes.
“You know how it was, Brent. We really hadn’t talked recently. I guess... I don’t know.”
“Do you want some company?”
By pure chance, both of us ended up in Seattle. Needing to distance myself from my hometown of Spokane, I’d settled here after taking a job with a magazine, and he worked in finance at a large firm downtown. He’d developed an algorithm a few years ago that had changed the way people invested, and the success it brought catapulted him to a partnership. Brent had always been good to me, and it was nice to know there was a familiar face around if I ever needed one.
I started to say no, then changed my mind mid-thought. “Where?”
He chuckled. “It doesn’t sound like you’re in any condition to drive, so I’ll come to your place. Should I bring another bottle of wine?”
“Are you drinking?”
“Might as well join you, lush.” I sensed the teasing smile in his voice and an answering grin lifted the corners of my lips.
“Then you’d better bring two.”
*
BOOK ONE, UNREQUITED Love, is FREE on all platforms. Grab it here!