Smart people take their own advice. Sadly, James had never been smart. Like a homing pigeon, he flew over the covered bridge and up Tamarack Tree Lane to April’s place.
The sun burst through the cloud cover, warming the day. He opened his car window halfway and inhaled. As much as he loved living in the city, the mountain air here was sweet and clean, as intoxicating as a woman’s perfume.
He kept thinking about what Kate had said—that April was out here alone. In other words, there was no guy with her. If she’d been married, things hadn’t worked out. He felt both bad and glad about the news. Bad for April, glad for himself.
Okay, not exactly glad. Vindicated would be a better word. She’d replaced him in a heartbeat, while he’d wasted months pining for her, spending lonely nights feeling sad and bitter. He simply wished she could have trusted in him. In their union.
Not that there was a chance for them to be together now. What they’d shared happened a long time ago. A repeat performance would end the same way, and put him on the losing side.
He pulled off to the shoulder of the road and surveyed April’s house and barn. James couldn’t believe the changes. Her grandfather built the home seventy years ago and the place showed every bit of its age. The front porch slanted like the steps in an amusement park funhouse. The roof needed work. Big time. Some shingles were missing, revealing the underlay. In other spots, he could see right through to the wooden sheathing. A coat of paint might have spruced up the general exterior but, with so many other problems, it would be a waste of money.
Still, the land was good. Especially from an investor’s point of view. Situated near the junction of two highways, the location was ideal for a Getalot store. Too bad it wasn’t one of the properties Stephen was considering. He could buy the land cheap, April would have money in the bank, and the new retailer could supply jobs for the suffering folks in Carol Falls, while catering to the buying needs of the local communities and tourists. A win-win-win.
James nosed his car into the long driveway and parked. As he walked down the cracked sidewalk, movement caught his eye. Close to the house, on the other side of the peeling picket fence, April’s snowsuit-clad son was busy with his toys—a toboggan, a pintsized snow shovel, a green bucket and a plastic Superman chair. The boy seemed like an average kid, until James took a second look. Marcus wasn’t actually ‘playing’ with his toys. He was lining them up. Meticulously.
“Hi, Marcus.”
The child didn’t acknowledge him, just went right on placing his things in a row, howling in aggravation each time the shovel he’d stuck in the snow fell over.
“Jimmy...if you’re planning to play outside with us, you’re gonna need a hat.”
He’d been so intrigued with Marcus, he hadn’t noticed April’s approach. “Considering the time of year, maybe I should get one like Santa’s,” he replied.
Her hat was a teal knit, the same color as her car-length coat. The material almost matched the shade of her eyes. He’d often gazed at her, trying to decide if they were blue or green. Depending on what she wore, and her mood, her eyes seemed to change—blue if she was overtired, green if she was excited.
Always green after a thorough kissing.
He heard a hiss and snapped out of it. At his feet, a well-fed black and white cat stared up at him, indignant. A dark mask of fur ran around the feline’s eyes, making him look like a chubby Zorro.
“Don’t mind Bandit. He’s kind of territorial.”
“Ya think?”
Bandit batted the air with his paw, clearly a challenge for James to put up his dukes and fight it out. Mano-a-mano.
Weird. Animals usually liked him. Kids, too. James felt like Tiger Woods at the 2013 U.S. Open. Completely off his game.
He glanced over at Marcus again, who was now making snowballs. Instead of throwing them, he was stacking the balls one on top of the other like a mile-high ice cream cone, shouting his frustration whenever they fell over.
“It’s good that he can play outside here. It’s quiet enough, not a lot of traffic. Kids like Marcus have a tendency to run out into the street, because they’re unaware of the danger.”
Normally, James wouldn’t have asked, but she’d opened the door on the subject. “I’ve heard he’s autistic. What is that, exactly?”
“It’s a developmental disorder.” She smoothed a strand of hair from her face and looked at her son with a mix of love and worry. “It affects his ability to communicate and interact socially.”
“So, the other day, when he was flapping his arms and—”
“It’s called stimming, short for self-stimulation. It helps him cope with the world when there are too many sights and sounds for him to process.”
James noticed the dark smudges under her eyes. “And how do you cope?”
She let out a breath. The chilly vapors surrounded her face like a wreath. “Sometimes, I feel as isolated in the world as he must. But it’s what I signed up for. I trained as a teacher for special needs kids, so I’m able to home school him and coach him with his developmental skills. I get discouraged now and then, but I forget all about the downside when I see him make a breakthrough.”
She licked her lips, drawing James’ attention to them all the more. He could still remember kissing her. She’d tasted like cherry bubblegum, smelled of shampoo, and the sight of her pulse beating madly at the base of her neck used to be enough to drive him over the edge.
He cleared his throat. Unfortunately, it did nothing to clear his head. “Where’s the boy’s father?” He shouldn’t ask, but couldn’t stop himself. A part of him wanted to see the guy pull his weight. A bigger part wanted the guy out of the picture entirely. For selfish reasons.
All of which involved April and that luscious mouth.
James’ expression turned hard, possessive. And that hungry look in his eyes set April’s heart kicking against her ribs with the fervor of a wild bronco.
Where was the boy’s father? “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I never met the man. Or the woman who gave birth to Marcus.”
James was quiet for a moment, and then his brows shot up. “He’s adopted?”
“Yup. I’m a single mom.”
“That’s great.” His quick smile faded. “I mean, it’s great you’re giving a home to a kid who needs one. But doing it all on your own—that must be rough.”
So was his jaw, dusted with the right amount of stubble to give him an air of danger. She wanted to reach up and touch his cheek, let that roughness caress her palm. Was she crazy to feel this attraction to him after all these years?
Whatever he’d done to send her teenage endorphins skyrocketing tripled now that he was a man. And that spiced-up cologne he wore? She wanted to bury her face against his neck and breathe him in for the next half hour.
“I manage,” she said, took a step back and grabbed hold of one of the fence slats—something solid to remind her about the differences between reality and fantasy. The wood was reality. Marcus was reality. Making this month’s credit card payment was a harsh reality.
Jimmy was a fantasy, her emotions clouded by the memory of the boy she’d once loved. They’d both changed, she was sure of it. She certainly had. Sudden motherhood did that to a girl.
Besides, Jimmy had been the one to reject her in the end.
“So what brings you to my place?”
“I’m doing some legwork in the area for a client. Thought I’d stop by and say hello.” He toed a chunk of crusty snow, pulverizing it with this boot. “How ’bout you? What do your folks think about you moving back to Carol Falls?”
The question threw her. If he asked that, he couldn’t have read her letter, the tear-stained note she’d churned out explaining her parents’ accident.
“They...died.”
There was no way he could have faked his shocked expression. His face went slack for a few seconds, his color momentarily drained. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She’d been devastated by their deaths, unable to do anything at first except meet with lawyers and arrange a funeral. As an only child, she’d often felt lonely, but never with as much intensity as in those early days of grief. After she recovered from the shock and started planning her new life, she wrote to Jimmy, saying there was no longer anything standing in the way of their happiness.
Maybe she should have phoned, instead. She’d certainly thought about it, but had chickened out. April often got tongue-tied in emotional situations. In a letter, she could collect her thoughts, polish it until she was satisfied she’d selected exactly the right words to express what she meant.
When she didn’t hear back from him, she’d assumed he had a new girlfriend and wasn’t interested in her anymore. Or that his parents were screening his mail. She wouldn’t have blamed the Frosts for wanting to protect their son, after what happened. Her own folks had handled the relationship between her and Jimmy so poorly.
In forbidding April to see him, they’d fed her romantic teen notions. When Jimmy had suggested they purchase ID that upped their ages to eighteen and elope to Vegas, April cast aside her renowned hesitancy and law-abiding ways, and jumped at the chance to be his wife. She’d picked up road maps, planned their route, and outfitted Jimmy’s second-hand Honda Civic with camping equipment and food supplies.
Little did she know her parents would devise a desperate finale to crush her dreams.
“Have they been gone long?”
“It happened shortly after we moved away.” To another state. The annulment hadn’t been enough for her parents. They’d wanted to put as much distance between her and Jimmy as possible.
“They’d been out in the car running errands...and were struck by a man driving home after a night at the bar. My parents were killed instantly. The worst of it was...”
April silently scolded herself for getting teary. Strange how memories were just below the surface. Give them a scratch and a rash of emotion followed. “We’d been arguing before they went out. I’d said things to them that I...I can never take back. The day I finally chose to stand up to them, was the last day they had.”
Jimmy’s hazel eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. “I’m sure they knew how much you loved them. You were a good daughter. The best.” He placed a hand over hers. “What happened to the other driver?”
“God takes care of drunks and fools, they say. The guy walked away without a scratch.”
“I hope he served jail time.”
“He did. At least I knew he was off the road for a while and couldn’t hurt anyone else. That was a comfort.”
As Jimmy’s touch was now. But the comfort would be fleeting, leaving with him when he drove off in his swanky car.
She slipped her hand out from his. She was a mother now. She had to be strong. She took a moment to watch her son stack snowballs, his super tower way sturdier than her resolve. Or the house.
“This farm was part of my inheritance,” she continued. “I rented it for a while but, when the last tenants moved, it sat vacant for more than a year. I tried to sell it and didn’t get any takers. My only option was to unload my apartment in the city and move here.” She took in the rundown, panoramic view of the farm and let out a sigh. So much work to be done.
Though, now that she’d vented, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. She’d always been able to talk to Jimmy, had felt the most true to herself when she was with him. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.”
He enveloped her in a hug, a friendly one. Two old pals who’d been through a lot together, and even more since.
But, with his body pressed against hers, the camaraderie of the moment faded, replaced with a wave of longing. The atmosphere around them shimmered with heat. She felt jittery and nervous, like a thousand mini trampoline artists were bounding around in her stomach.
He was close enough for her to catch a whiff of his minty toothpaste. Close enough to kiss her.
“Anytime...as long as it’s this week,” she said, stepping out of his embrace. She wasn’t prepared to risk her heart to him again, especially when he’d be gone before next Sunday.
Jimmy got the message and backed off, giving her space. “R-r-right. But while I’m here, if you need a hand with anything, just call.”
He presented her with a business card, a photo of him looking handsome and rugged, right beside his name and profession—James Frost, Contractor. Then he walked away, his footsteps crunching in the snow.
So Marcus was adopted.
That meant April hadn’t run off with the first guy she’d seen after their breakup. James’ ego had inflated with the news, only to collapse again when April skittered away from him. Twice. While he’d almost made a fool of himself and kissed her. In front of her kid, no less.
Though he doubted Marcus would have noticed.
James couldn’t afford another slip-up like that. April was right to steer clear of him. Though he’d worked to improve himself since high school, he’d never be a college grad—the kind of man worthy of April’s attention. Plus, his lifestyle was nomadic at best, dictated to him by the Getalot expansion.
He went back to his car, started it and drove off, keeping his sights on the road ahead. The most he could hope for with April was to be her friend. Only he was feeling a whole bunch of stuff that went beyond friendship. When he was around her, his chest got tighter, breathing was harder, and all he could think about was touching her, kissing her.
But she’d made it plain she didn’t want that. Didn’t want him.
Probably a good call on her part. James could well imagine an autistic child would put a lot of stress on a relationship. And he’d already seen April in action as a doting mother. Any man who hooked up with her would have to be extremely secure to settle for second place in her heart. And James was through being last on the list.
He was so busy mulling it over, he lost track of how far he’d driven. The covered bridge loomed ahead and, off to one side of it, an old junker rested on the shoulder of the road. A long-legged woman stepped out from behind the wheel, looking desperate.
James pulled his vehicle in front of hers and got out, ready to help her with her problem—dead battery, flat tire, whatever. As he approached, she turned to face him. It was only then that he recognized her. From the cafe.
“Hi, Heather. Did the engine die on you?”
She shook her head. “The car is fine. I followed you out here because...I need to tell you something. In private.”
James tensed. He barely knew the woman. Why did she want to talk to him?
“So tell me.”
Her eyes glistened. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and swiped at the tears. “This is really hard for me, James. I haven’t had the best of luck with men. But that night we met in the bar, I felt like we made a connection. That I could trust you.”
Heather tore at her tissue. Bits of it caught on a breeze and floated around them like snowflakes. “You heard about the abandoned baby? That they’re looking for the mother?”
James’ chin almost hit the pavement. He’d been in town for a day and it looked as if he was about to unravel the mystery that had confounded the locals for a week.
“Do you know who the mother is?”
“Yes.” More eye dabbing. “Me.”
She teetered, as if about to collapse. He caught her arm, opened her car door and sat her down in the driver’s seat. James found a box of tissues in the back and handed it to her. He leaned against the roof of the car and kept his mouth shut, offering silent comfort until she was ready to speak.
“I didn’t have enough money for a doctor. I stayed with a friend in Montpelier for several months...to keep my pregnancy a secret here. After Holly came, I panicked. I’ve just gotten out of a bad relationship and I’m not in a good position to care for an infant. So I put her in the manger at your parents’ barn, because I knew your family would look after her. And...it was right that my little girl should be with her grandparents.”
He must have heard her wrong. He crouched at her side to get closer. “Grandparents? What are you saying?”
“Sorry. I’m babbling. That’s because I never expected to have this conversation with you. I didn’t plan to involve you in any of this. But now, I’m at the end of my rope—past it—and I can’t hold on any longer.”
Heather looked at the shredded tissues in her hands and then back up at him.
“You’re the baby’s father.”