*Harper sat at the small desk in her room in Aunt Mary’s house, trying to focus on filling out the online application for an assistant teacher at the Growing Tree preschool. Aunt Dot had casually mentioned to her that they had a sign advertising the position on the church bulletin board. She needed to find a job. Drew’s SGLI money paid her quite a sum, but she’d tucked that away for the future and had been living off their savings since she’d left Michigan. That account was dwindling. Neither of the two elementary schools in River’s Edge needed an art teacher, nor had any elementary schools or middle schools in nearby towns. So it was Growing Tree or tapping into the life insurance money, which she did not want to do. She knew it was unreasonable, but using the life insurance money was the final admission that Drew was never coming home.
She stared at the application, debating whether to use Aunt Mary’s address as her permanent address or the address in St. Clair Shores, Michigan. She really needed to find her own place to live here in River’s Edge. She typed in Aunt Mary’s, even though she couldn’t stay in the guest room forever.
Forever. Who knew what that word—forever—even meant anymore? She thought she had forever with Drew.
They’d bought a house together when he’d been posted to the arsenal in Warren, just outside of Detroit—a small two-bedroom cottage walking distance to the beach on Lake St. Clair, only a few blocks from her parents and the house she’d grown up in. Deeply in love, they’d planned the perfect life together—a family, a home, eternal love. In an instant, it was all gone and Harper, bereft, had no idea how to move on. Their house—her house—was closed up at the moment because Harper hadn’t been ready to cut all the ties to her life with Drew. But she couldn’t even imagine living there without him.
On the form, she’d reached the point of references, both personal and professional. The professional ones were easy—her principal, a couple of teachers, but the personal ones were harder. She sighed. In her sorrow, she’d pretty much shut out most of her and Drew’s friends—being with other couples had been too painful. Peter, Drew’s best buddy, and his wife Ann had checked on her regularly, encouraging her to come out with them, meet other friends, but she simply couldn’t. Eventually, they’d stopped checking in, and too much time had passed to reach out.
She closed the laptop, rose, shrugged into her soft green corduroy jacket, and wrapped a plaid scarf around her neck. It was time to move—she’d been sitting for too long. In the mudroom, she pulled on her running shoes, shoved her cell phone in her jacket pocket, and snuck out the back door. If Aunt Mary heard her, she’d want to come along, and Harper wanted a solitary walk along the river.
Her phone chimed with a text as she started out the door. Mom. “Hey, how’d it go with the arts lady?”
“It was about a project that isn’t my thing.”
“What?”
Harper debated lying, but not only was Mom relentless, Harper also sucked at fibs. Mom probably already knew about Cameron Walker’s dower chest from the aunts anyway. Obligingly, she thumbed, “Painting on a piece of furniture.”
“That sounds interesting. You should think about it.”
Harper was not up for a long conversation in any form. The River Walk called her name, so she simply texted back: “I’ll give it some thought,” and the blowing-kiss emoji that she’d learned was the best way to tell her mom she was done texting for a while.
Mom texted back a heart and a hug emoji.
Good … peace for a while.
The December sky was truest blue, and the midafternoon sun warmed her bare head as she headed down to the River Walk. Christmas was in full swing with the tree lighting happening last week and businesses all along Main Street dressed up in twinkle lights and pine boughs and holly. River’s Edge’s economy depended on tourism and Christmas was a busy time in town. Surprisingly, the River Walk wasn’t too busy. Hands shoved in her jacket pockets, Harper was grateful she could walk the riverside path and simply remain anonymous.
She passed a group of chattering senior speed-walkers, their arms pumping as they zipped around her with ’scuse us and coming through. A pair of women with three-wheeled strollers nodded and smiled as they jogged by going the other direction. An older couple, wrapped in knitted scarves and hats, sat shoulder to shoulder on a bench in one of the overlooks, not talking, simply watching a barge chug along the water. Runners thumped past, as well as three kids on skateboards, a man with a wheeled walker, and even a young man on a hover board. The bicycle-sharing dock was full of bikes now that the tourists had mostly left, and Harper stopped to read the instructions for renting. A bike ride might be nice and would certainly help her avoid a conversation with anyone. She touched the handlebar of the closest bike, wondering if they took them in when winter snow began falling.
“That front tire is low. I’d choose another one.” A voice behind her spun her around.
Cameron Walker stood there, dressed in sweatpants, a T-shirt, a UK hoodie, and running shoes. The hoodie was open and his shirt was sweaty. He must’ve been running, although he was barely breathless. He grinned at her and deep dimples creased his cheeks, something she hadn’t noticed when they’d talked at the arts center. A scruff of beard and the bandana tied around his head gave him a slightly piratical look and his gray eyes shone nearly silver behind his glasses.
She eyed him with caution. “I hadn’t decided on a bike ride for sure.”
“You got strong legs?” Cameron’s gaze raked her from head to toe and back again. “We got some hills in this town.”
Harper looked away from his intense stare. “Maybe another day. I-I don’t have my wallet with me.”
“You should always carry ID with you at least.” He pulled his left leg up behind him to stretch his quads, then his right.
Harper watched the barge as it navigated up river, carrying a load of coal. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” She stepped around him. “See ya.”
“Mind if I walk along?” His shy smile didn’t completely disarm her, but she was intrigued, and she hadn’t been intrigued by anything or anyone for months.
“Okay.” She blushed, acutely aware of him—his height, his broad shoulders as he zipped his sweatshirt against the breeze coming off the river.
They walked in silence for a few yards, and Harper was grateful he didn’t feel the need to pepper her with questions. A flock of birds flew down over the river, swooped back up, and then in total unison headed south over the hills of Kentucky.
She grappled for something to say and finally came up with, “Did you go to Kentucky?” She lifted her chin toward the sweatshirt, which was a little tattered around the cuffs and the tie was missing from the hood.
“Only for a semester.” He lifted one shoulder. “Not so great with the books.”
Harper wasn’t sure what to say to that, but after a few seconds she nodded. “Well, that’s because you’re a craftsman.”
“What about you?” He ambled alongside her, but she could tell her leisurely pace was hard for him. His fingers curled and uncurled, and fitting his long stride to her shorter legs was clearly an effort. His big body emanated energy.
“University of Michigan.”
“Art?”
“That and el ed.” Harper kept her answers short, hoping he’d move on.
Cameron Walker’s interest seemed genuine, though, and his smile was the kind that drew people out. She reminded herself that he might have an agenda.
“How was that?” he asked. “Teaching art to little kids?”
“They can be very creative.”
“I’ll bet.” He chuckled. “Tell me your best kid artist story.”
He’s making me talk to him. I could just walk away, but that would be rude.
Unsure at all about what to say, Harper reached deep for her rusty social skills. “Best story?” She thought for a moment, sorting through memories that she’d tucked away in the back of her mind in the past ten months. Little Gus Franklin’s drawing of his mom came into her head. That one had been priceless. She could share it. “Um … one little guy in a kindergarten class once drew a portrait of his mother, and while I did figure out that her feet weren’t cloven hooves, but rather high heels, I couldn’t fathom why she had clouds around the bottom of her skirt.”
He quirked one blond brow. “Did you wonder if maybe she was, like … well, dead and in heaven?” He blushed furiously, obviously believing he’d just made a terrible faux pas.
Harper gave him a pass because he was only being friendly and snickered softly. “No, I knew she was alive. I’d seen her the night before at a PTA meeting.”
His brow creased. “So what were the clouds?”
“Farts.”
He stopped dead on the walkway. “Farts?”
With difficulty, she managed to keep a straight face. “Yup. Apparently Gus’s mom had gas frequently enough, it made an impression on him.”
Cameron laughed—a big free laugh that turned the heads of the people they passed. Heat filled Harper’s cheeks at the attention that was being drawn to them, but his pleasure in the story was so evident, she couldn’t help returning his smile … then laughing, too.
“That’s hilarious,” Cameron said after catching his breath.
Harper nodded. “Kids will always tell you more truth than you need to know.”
“Please say you saved that drawing, or at least took a picture of it.” He was walking backward now so he could face her, his expression curious.
“I did take a picture,” she confessed, “but I sent it home with him. I figured it was his problem to explain it to his mom.”
“Show me.” Cam stopped so suddenly that Harper found she was against his chest before she could catch herself. He grabbed her upper arms and steadied her.
That touch—his strong fingers grasping her biceps—and the musky male scent of him shot an arc of longing through her, but not for Cameron Walker. For Drew. She closed her eyes for a second as his dear face appeared crystal clear in her mind. Drew—sweaty and grinning as he waltzed in the back door after a beach run. He’d put his hands on her arms that day, then tugged her to him and danced her around the kitchen to some old Eagles song that was playing on the smart speaker.
“Whoa, sorry.” Cameron’s breath was so close she detected the scent of his toothpaste—cinnamon. “I guess I need brake lights.”
She wrenched away. They had nearly reached the bridge gate. She pointed up Cedar Crest Drive. “I’m going that way.”
He tugged the do-rag off his head and raked his fingers through his thick hair, then wiped the back of his neck with the bandana. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee or tea? Holly Flaherty’s tea room is right up that way.”
Harper knew where Holly’s tea shop was—she frequented it now and again after the early morning walks she took before the rest of the town was awake. Holly was kind and circumspect, friendly but not prying, and also usually busy in the kitchen baking at six thirty A.M. when Harper stopped in for a to-go cup of tea. She rarely engaged in conversation, which suited Harper just fine. “I know the Tea Leaf.”
He peered down at her, then tilted his head. “So … wanna go?”
She shook her head, more to dispel Drew’s face and the memory of his arms around her than to answer Cameron. Tears burned her eyelids and she bit the inside of her lip. “No, I should get back. I’m helping in the quilt store today.” She swallowed hard and looked away from his eager expression. Her heart twisted in her chest. She desperately needed to get back to Aunt Mary’s. “Thank you, though.”
She stepped around him and fled up the hill toward Main Street and her safe haven, ignoring the Wait, Harper! that echoed behind her.
*
Cam stood at the corner, wondering if he should run after her, but something inside him warned him to let her go. She’d opened up a little, but the burden of grief that she carried was daunting. He had no idea what to say to her, how to be around her. When his cousin Eli lost his fiancée, being with him had been awkward at first, but eventually, they’d all eased into a place where they simply didn’t talk about Amy.
Eli moved on—at least it seemed like he had. Then Jazz came back to town. None of them understood the depth of Eli’s sorrow until it all came pouring out when he fell in love with Jazz. She’d been the wrench that turned the stuck faucet on Eli’s grief, and suddenly, his whole life had changed. He’d finished and sold the house he’d started for Amy, turned Walker Construction over to his older brother Jack, and returned to being a carpenter. Now, he was married to Jazz and had a baby, and his whole life was completely different from what everyone had expected.
Maybe that was what Harper Gaines needed. Not particularly to fall in love again because who knew if that would fix anything. But recognizing that the life she thought she was going to have wasn’t going to happen might help. If his time in the reserves had taught him nothing else, he’d learned that folks who’d suffered devastating loss could rebuild. That people who believed they’d be lost and grieving forever could find themselves again, even if their lives weren’t going to be the same.
Chewing his lower lip, he remembered a couple down in Florida last week whose house had almost literally disappeared in the hurricane. Everything they owned was gone, but when they saw the tiny house that he and his fellow reservists and guardsman had set up for them, the joy in their eyes nearly brought him to tears. It wasn’t where they’d be forever, but it was a new start and they were game. Maybe that was what Harper Gaines needed. A new start.
He watched until she reached Main Street and turned west, then he spun around and walked briskly back up the River Walk, yanking his hood up against the winter breeze. He was damned if he knew how he was going to do it or why it suddenly felt so important, but one way or another, he would reach Harper Gaines.