When Bridget first wandered outside on the porch, she hadn’t realized Zach was still there. When she saw him chatting with her grandfather, she found herself doing an about-face and slipped back inside. The mention of her name made her pause at the screen door. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Her grandfather didn’t exactly have what she heard some of her fellow nursing students call an indoor voice.
“When this situation is under control, you need to convince Bridget to go back to school. Become a nurse.” A wave of heat washed over her. Her grandfather’s request baffled her. Zach had no authority over her. Why would he ask that of him? Didn’t her grandfather want her to be baptized and stay in Hickory Lane?
Later, while Bridget was reading on the back porch, she was surprised to see Zach just then leaving the dawdy haus. Bridget tossed her book aside and strode across the yard to meet the DEA agent who had come into her life only recently and turned everything upside down. Or, more fairly, her life had been turned upside down not coincidentally at the same time she met him.
“Hi.” His brown eyes seemed to warm at her presence.
“Hi. You’re all set?” Bridget asked, suddenly feeling foolish because they had already said their goodbyes.
Zach patted his bag. “Yes, all set.” His eyes twitched a fraction. “You want to walk over to my truck with me?”
Bridget glanced over her shoulder at her parents’ house, feeling like she needed permission, even though that was ridiculous. “Sure. You and my grandfather had a long visit.”
“He’s a nice man.”
“He is.”
They crossed the field in silence; flecks of mud splashed up on her boots. The words she really needed to say clung to the back of her throat, making each second feel precious. Finally, when they stepped onto the neighbor’s gravel driveway, where Zach’s truck was parked, she turned to face him. “I feel like I put my foot in my mouth by the pond. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I had no right.” Now that she’d found the words, they spilled out. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“It’s my job.” He popped open the tailgate and tossed his duffel bag under the tonneau cover. He must have sensed her mood, because he turned and said, “We’re going to figure this out. You’re going to be able to come back to Buffalo and finish school.”
There it is.
Bridget glanced down at her boots, then up at him. “I heard part of your conversation with my grandfather. Your voices carried across the yard and through the screen door.” Her face flushed hot again. “It’s not your job to make sure I pursue my dream. I don’t want that weight on you. I made my own choices when...well, from the time I first sat down at Dr. Ryan’s computer. I could have looked the other way. My job was nearing its end. I could have gone back to school quietly. It would have been so much easier,” she muttered. Her stomach knotted at the reality of it all. “I made my own choices, and I’ll work through the consequences.”
Zach reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Her skin singed under his touch. “I’m not going to abandon you. I’m going to put whoever’s involved in this in jail and make sure you’re free to do whatever you want in life.” A small smile flashed on his lips. He seemed to hesitate a moment, then took a step back.
Bridget took a step forward. She planted her hand on his chest and leaned up on her tiptoes. They locked eyes for the briefest of moments before she leaned in and kissed him. He wrapped both his arms around her and pulled her close. She grew more confident from his strength.
Reluctantly, she broke off the kiss. “I wanted to let you know that I didn’t think you were pretending. I’m not pretending, either. I really like you, but we both know life is pulling us in different directions.” She reached behind her and removed his arm and stepped out of his embrace.
“Hey,” he said, his voice husky. “I am going to do everything in my power to make sure you get back to school. Become a nurse.”
Bridget looked up at him and squinted against the late-afternoon sun, its beams diffused through the nearby trees. “I’m not your responsibility.” Like your sister wasn’t.
“I care about you...” Zach took a step closer and cupped her cheek. This time she didn’t back away. She took a step closer, and he kissed her gently on the lips. She rested her head on his solid chest. If only they had met under different circumstances. He pressed her close to him. A door opening sounded close by. The neighbors.
Bridget stepped back, a twinge of embarrassment snaking its way through the momentary feelings of warmth, connection.
“Let me drive you home,” he said.
Bridget shook her head. “It’s only across the field.” She smiled. “I’m safe here.”
Bridget watched him climb into his truck, then she turned to stroll across the field, wondering if she’d ever feel as safe as she had in his arms.
The entire drive back to Buffalo, Zach couldn’t get the thought of Bridget’s soft lips out of his mind. His last memory of her was her long dress blowing in the wind and her shielding her eyes from the sun before she turned to cut across the field to go home. He had no business getting involved with someone who was part of his investigation. Technically, you’re on leave. That argument didn’t squash his concern that she was Amish. They could never be together. No, she wasn’t Amish. She was hiding among the Amish.
He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he could clear his head. Figure this out.
The kiss had been innocent. Yet he had never crossed the line while working on a case. Hadn’t he? Well, never romantically. Bridget was straddling two worlds; he could read the indecision in her eyes. And his work was his world. One undercover case after another. He had created a life where having a family was next to impossible. He laughed to himself. The two of them made a pair, both trying to figure out where they fit in the world.
Zach had spent most of his life pretending he was someone he wasn’t: a dealer, a junkie in need of a fix, the lookout. A guy could get lost in all the pretending. Bridget hadn’t been wrong in suggesting he was good at it.
He wasn’t pretending with her.
The green-and-white Thruway signs announcing the first few Buffalo exits came into view. He scrubbed his hand across his face when he saw the familiar sign announcing the exit to his childhood neighborhood. He lived in Buffalo, but he rarely drove the same streets he used to travel on his first ten-speed bike.
As if the truck had a mind of its own, Zach found himself merging off the highway. It was getting late, so he decided he’d drive by his mother’s house. He wouldn’t stop.
Maybe.
He passed the ice cream stand—a long line snaked in front of a single order window—the same one that he and his little sister used to ride their bikes to and buy cones from with the money he made cutting grass. He shoved aside the thought and almost turned back before he decided to push through, despite the feelings of nostalgia.
Zach slowed as he drove down his tree-lined childhood street. Each tree and house were so familiar he could tell which trees had died or been cut back since his days of playing hide-and-seek in the neighborhood. All the shades on the windows on the Meadows’s house were drawn. Maybe they were all at Ashley’s wake?
Too much death in his line of business.
His childhood home hunkered in the gathering shadows. He pulled over along the curb. With his bent arm resting on the open window frame, he sat in silence, trying to remember the kid he had once been. Despite the five-year age gap, he and his little sister had been close. Very close. In one of his psychology classes in college, he’d learned that kids of dysfunctional parents tended to lean on one another because that’s all they had. He didn’t need to take a three-credit college-level class to learn that. He lived it.
His attention drifted to the small detached garage. The shadow of the basketball net brought him back to their spirited games of H-O-R-S-E. Leann loved that game. He was about to write this off as a very bad idea when the distinct scent of cigarette smoke reached his nose. The sickening, sweet scent of his mother’s brand. Then he saw it. The orange glow grew brighter.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Her raspy voice floated across the yard.
Zach closed his eyes momentarily to gather himself. He unclicked his seat belt and climbed out. He crossed the yard. He hadn’t been here since the day of Leann’s funeral.
He walked up to the porch and stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. “Hi, Mom.” The word sounded foreign on his lips.
“Zachary.” She said his name reverently, then stiffened. “Are you in the neighborhood because of Ashley?” He felt his mother’s watchful gaze from the shadows.
“This whole case got me thinking about home,” he admitted.
The tip of her cigarette glowed orange again. She released a billow of smoke between thin lips. “Least something got you back here.” A strangled laugh-cough took him right back to his youth.
Zach climbed the steps and remembered posing here in his tux before prom. He leaned back against the railing, facing his mom, his eyes adjusting to the dusk. “I’ve been busy.”
His mother had aged. Life hadn’t been kind to her. He had expected her to be itching for a fight. Man, she loved a good fight. He held his breath. Her face softened, and she ran the back of her cigarette hand across her cheek. “I don’t blame you for not coming around.” She cleared her throat. “How have you been?”
“I’m okay. Work’s busy.” His mom had laughed when he signed on with the DEA, suggesting the work was a bit on the nose. “Lots of drugs in the world.”
“Was Ashley into drugs?” His mother looked out over the yard in a thousand-mile stare. “Is that how she ended up murdered?”
“No. By all accounts, Ashley was a good kid. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“She came here looking for you. Maybe if I hadn’t given her your card.” His mother’s voice cracked for the first time.
“Not your fault, Mom,” Zach said, his heart softening toward the only family he had left.
A soft laugh escaped her lips. “I better have my hearing checked. I never could do anything right in your mind.”
His mother had gotten lost in her struggle with addiction. So had her daughter. And if he was being honest, he had, too. He had become single-minded in his focus. So judgmental.
Unforgiving.
His brief time in Hickory Lane had had a profound impact on him.
“How have you been doing, Mom?”
“Still working at the garden center.” She had lost her nursing license years ago. She stubbed out her cigarette on the ashtray next to her chair. “I’ve been sober three years now.”
Three years!
“That’s great.” Zach leaned back and wrapped his hands around the railing. He hated how formal they sounded.
“Yeah, I’m proud of myself.” She stood and approached him. She placed the palm of her hand on his cheek. “My baby boy.”
Emotion welled up in his throat, making it impossible to speak. The familiar scent of her shampoo mingled with the tobacco still lingering in the air.
“Do you have anyone special?” She tilted her head, curiosity lighting her eyes. “Sure you do. Look at you.”
“There’s someone,” he found himself saying. “But my job makes it hard.”
His mother’s lips pinched. “Don’t put anything above a loved one. Not anything.”
Zach made a noncommittal sound. A loved one? It seemed too early to put Bridget in that category.
She dropped her hand and inhaled deeply. “You are one of the few things I did right.”
Zach forced an awkward smile. After a moment, he found his voice. “I know you did your best.”
His mother tucked in her chin, then looked up at him. Tears shone in her eyes. “You and your sister deserved more. I wish I had been able to give it to you. To both of you.” Her regret was palpable.
“You need to forgive yourself.”
His mother dipped her head.
The next words he had to force through the emotion clogging his throat. “I forgive you. You’re human. We all make mistakes.”
His mother gripped the gold pendant hanging around her neck, and a single tear tracked own her cheek.
Zach tapped his palm on the railing. “Well, I better go.”
His mother took a step back and swatted at what he suspected was a mosquito. “Yes, it’s getting buggy out here.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m glad you stopped by, Zachary. Maybe you’ll come back again soon. When you have more time.”
“Yeah...” He descended the steps.
“Maybe you can bring your friend,” she added hopefully.
“Maybe.” He climbed into his truck and slammed the door. A myriad of emotions played at his heartstrings. Lightness. Relief. Hope. Maybe there was something to be said about this forgiveness stuff.