CHAPTER SEVEN

“I put yesterday’s mail on your desk,” Rhonda said as Sarah came in from the dining room after her morning coffee and toast. “Oh, and I had two e-mails asking about winter weekend specials for couples. Are we running another promotion this year?”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “I haven’t written it up yet, but I was thinking of offering a ten percent discount on a two-night stay, plus a pass to the Cape Ann Museum.”

“Not very romantic,” Rhonda said. “But of course it’s up to you.”

Something was off. Rhonda’s voice wasn’t as warm as it usually was, and she had an unusually severe expression. Even her hair looked severe, pinned up like that instead of falling in its usual glossy curls. Sarah wondered if she should ask the girl what was wrong. Something was clearly bothering her.

We aren’t friends, she reminded herself. It was always iffy to be friends with your employees. It was a fine line between professional and personal when you ran an inn, especially with employees who’d been with her as long as Rhonda had, but Sarah had always been careful not to overstep it.

She removed her wool coat, studying Rhonda as she moved with her usual efficiency behind the desk, checking out a middle-aged couple with enough bags for a European tour. Rhonda was all smiles with them.

Maybe Rhonda was sulky with Sarah because things hadn’t worked out with that uncle of hers. She’d been so hopeful when she’d fixed them up.

“Tell you what,” Sarah said after the couple had left the reception area, Tommy burdened with suitcases and hobbling behind them. “Why don’t you write up the copy for the winter special, Rhonda. You always have such wonderful ideas. Yours put mine to shame.”

This, at least, earned a small smile. “As you like,” Rhonda said. “I’ll have it to you after I’ve checked everyone out.”

“Wonderful. Well, I’d better get to my desk, then, and see what mysteries await me in yesterday’s mail.” Sarah slipped into her office. Rhonda was a hard worker. And, in Sarah’s experience, nothing could lift your mood like a job well done.

She turned on her computer and flipped idly through the pile of letters and circulars stacked on her desk. A thick manila envelope caught her eye. It was from an attorney’s office in Venice, Florida. Sarah set the other mail aside and slit the envelope open.

At first she couldn’t make sense of it. Phrases jumped out at her, but the sentences ran together, then seemed to fragment into pieces, as her brain struggled to process what her eyes were seeing.

Dear Mrs. Bradford . . . I regret to inform you about the death . . . I have been asked . . . your husband, Neil Bradford, being of sound mind and body . . .

He was dead. The lawyer had sent her a will, saying Folly Cove was hers. Neil was gone.

Her Neil.

“Rhonda,” Sarah called. “Could you come in here, please?”

“Can you give me five more minutes, Mrs. Bradford? I’m just finishing up with that copy.”

“No,” Sarah said. She cleared her throat, then added, “I need you now, Rhonda. Please.”

Her own voice, though it seemed disembodied, sounded coolly normal. No sign of the disintegration taking place in her vision, the buzzing in her brain, or the escalation of her heartbeat knocking against her ribs as Rhonda appeared at her door, knuckles to the wood, her mouth open and making sounds Sarah couldn’t hear.

Rhonda’s quizzical look quickly altered into something else, something Sarah couldn’t recognize or interpret because her own vision was going completely dark now, her brain shutting down, her heart the only part of her still working.

But even that trusty heart of hers was about to stop, to crack into a thousand smaller beating pieces that would never be put together again.

•   •   •

Anne opened her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious.

She was shivering from lying on the damp ground but was afraid to sit up. Every time she tried, there was a sharp stab of pain between her ribs.

She fiercely blinked away tears and tried to take progressively deeper breaths as she lay flat on her back and stared up at the mockingly cheerful sky. Finally she tried to sit up again. The pain in her left side was still too intense to bear. At least it wasn’t her spine.

Anne gently lowered herself down to the ground with a gasp. She hoped General had made it back to the barn. Surely someone would see the horse and her note, then come looking for her.

Or maybe she could limp back on her own? Obviously nothing was broken. She could move her arms and legs and neck just fine.

She’d feel like a total idiot dialing 911. But who else could she call for help?

No sense in phoning Flossie. Her aunt was fit, but she’d have to carry the baby over to the cottage to get the car seat. And even then, how would she find Anne? Anne had no idea where she was, much less the closest access point to this trail from the road.

Who else?

Definitely not Laura. Calling her would only give her sister more reason to be pissed off, since Laura hated to be interrupted when she was busy. And Laura was always busy. Her sister was born busy.

Anne didn’t dare call Sarah, either. Her mother would be useless. She would never consent to driving her car on dirt roads.

That left Elly. Elly didn’t have a car, but maybe she could borrow Laura’s or Jake’s. Anne hoped her phone’s GPS could get Elly to her. She wriggled the phone out of her jeans pocket, breathing through the pain, and pressed Elly’s number.

No answer. Damn it. Anne left a message, then clicked on Google maps to see if the app could find her location.

It did: she was about three miles from the inn. Two from the stables. A long walk in this kind of pain. But the thought of Lucy made Anne push herself upright with her hands, an inch at a time, wincing.

“Ow,” she moaned as the pain knifed between her ribs.

At least she’d had the sense to wear a riding helmet. She pulled the helmet off and felt along the base of her skull. Good news: no blood. A slight concussion, probably, given her nausea, and maybe a fractured or broken rib, but she’d live.

Maybe she should call 911 after all. The thought of a stretcher carrying her to Lucy made her decide to reach for the phone again.

Then she heard something crashing through the bushes. A very large something: a person, it must be. A deer or a coyote would probably be quieter.

Anne was about to call out, then clamped her lips shut. She’d read in one of the local newspapers about teenagers with paintball guns making trouble in Dogtown. Did she really want to deal with that?

She waited as the footsteps approached, her pulse so loud in her ears that she imagined whoever it was could follow the sound straight to her.

A dog broke noisily through the underbrush next to her, nose to the ground. It lifted its head when it saw her and started barking like a maniac. The dog was brown, shaggy, of no identifiable breed. Definitely the same animal that had spooked the horse.

“You dumb dog,” Anne said. “Be quiet! You’re the reason I’m in this fix!”

“Mack! Here, boy! Mack, where are you?”

Anne recognized the voice as Sebastian’s before he pushed aside low branches near the dog and ducked beneath them. He bent to pat the mutt on the head, quieting the animal, then peered at Anne from beneath the brim of a cap in a vibrant shade of orange.

Hunters, Anne remembered, seeing the hat. God, had she been riding during deer-hunting season without realizing it? Another classic idiot move!

No, wait. Deer season was later. This was pheasant season, right up until November. Still, she should have been wearing bright colors, not her forest-colored green jacket.

“Oh,” Sebastian said, looking confused at the sight of her on the ground. “You’re why my dog is barking. Sorry.”

“He spooked my horse,” Anne said, pointing an accusing finger at Mack.

This gesture only caused the dog to trot in her direction—bravely, now that Sebastian was here—and start lapping at her face, making her laugh and then wince when pain shot up her side again. “Ow!”

“Mack! Stop that! Come here!” Sebastian stepped forward to collar the dog again and stood looking down at Anne. “Are you badly hurt?”

“No. But I’m in too much pain to walk back to the stables. I don’t suppose you have a car?”

He nodded and jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “A Jeep. I came by the fire road.”

“They let you do that in Dogtown?”

“I have a special research permit.” He squatted beside her. Sebastian’s eyes were more green than brown beneath the cap, and his russet bangs were flattened along his forehead above his nose. He wore a gold plaid flannel shirt and black jeans, like some Cambridge poet except for the hiking boots, clearly well worn. A canvas mailbag was slung over one shoulder. Branches protruded from the pouch. He must have been collecting specimens.

“Where’s the pain?” he asked.

“My side, mostly. It’s probably a broken rib. I’m okay as long as I don’t take a deep breath.”

“I don’t think you should stand up if you’re not sure.”

“I’m sure!”

“Look, just take it slowly, all right?” he said.

“How much slower can I take it?” Anne complained. “I’ve been lying on the ground forever.”

“Do an inventory,” Sebastian suggested. “Let’s make sure your back is all right. Lie down again and test your muscles head to foot, a little at a time. Here. I’ll lie down with you. We’ll do it together.”

“What? That’s stupid!” Anne said.

And yet, when Sebastian was lying on the ground next to her, talking her through it—“Wiggle your toes first; okay, good, now let’s do our ankles”—she was suddenly less afraid. More relaxed. It was as if they were lying on a bed of pine needles, the sky a warm blue duvet pulled over them.

When they’d finished—he even suggested that they wiggle their ears, making them both laugh—Sebastian seemed assured that her spine was intact and asked if she was ready to stand up.

“Maybe.” Anne was feeling sleepy now, too comfortable to move.

“Try. Let’s see if we can get you to the car.” Sebastian held out a hand, which made the dog leap to its feet and start wagging its tail. “No, Mack,” he said, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. “He wants to help,” he said. “Mack is everyone’s best friend.”

“Except my horse’s.”

“Yeah, look, I really am sorry,” Sebastian said. “I’ll pay any medical bills, all right? Yours or the horse’s. But for now let’s focus on getting you to an ER.”

Anne shook her head. “Thanks, but I need to check on the horse and then go home.”

“You really ought to get an X-ray.”

“After,” she said, breathing through the pain as she folded her legs beneath her and prepared to stand.

She wouldn’t have made it upright without Sebastian’s help. Then it took all of her willpower not to cry out when she took her first step.

Sebastian put an arm around her shoulders, half carrying her through the trees to the Jeep. Anne had to bite her lip to keep from swearing, she was in such agony.

Finally they were in the car, where she held her breath as Sebastian gently tugged the seat belt into place and buckled it for her because she couldn’t twist to the side. The dog, meanwhile, had jumped into the back of the Jeep. She could smell its foul panting breath.

“Your dog stinks like a dying buffalo,” she managed.

“I know. That’s what makes him so lovable. Look, please let me take you to the ER. I’ll drop you there and go find the horse.”

She shook her head. “Stables first. Then home. I promise to go to the ER if I’m not feeling better in a couple of hours. Really, what would they do for a broken rib? They don’t even give you a compression bandage these days. And there’s something I have to do at home first.”

The truth: Lucy was the reason she was desperate to get home. Not just to see her baby, but to nurse her. Anne’s breasts ached, engorged and hard, adding to her misery.

Plus, what would Flossie do if Lucy was hungry? There wasn’t any more frozen breast milk.

As she pictured Lucy wailing and her aunt frantically pacing, it was all Anne could do not to shout at Sebastian to go faster. He was driving like a centurion, no doubt trying to spare her more pain.

Laura was standing outside the barn with a cell phone pressed to one ear when they pulled up in front of the stables. A half dozen horses, tacked up and waiting, were tied to the fence.

Laura was dressed smartly in yellow jodhpurs, tall black boots, and white quilted vest. She narrowed her eyes at them.

“For heaven’s sake. There you are,” Laura said after she’d hung up the phone. She marched over to Anne’s door and opened it. Her eyes flicked to Sebastian behind the wheel, then dismissed him. “I was just on the phone with Flossie. She’s worried sick. Where the hell have you been, Anne? Having a little date while Flossie watches your screaming kid?”

“No! Jesus, Laura. I couldn’t get home because I fell off General,” Anne said. “Sebastian found me. Is Lucy all right?” She ignored Sebastian’s startled glance in her direction. He obviously hadn’t heard about her child, then.

“How did you fall off General?” Laura asked. “That horse is like riding a sofa!” Her eyes raked over Anne’s appearance, taking in her torn jeans, the bloodied knee Anne hadn’t noticed until now. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d come. Is General here? Did he make it back?”

“Yes. But come on, Anne. I would’ve picked you up if I’d known you were in pain.”

“And if I weren’t?” Anne shot back.

“Look, this whole thing was my fault entirely, not your sister’s,” Sebastian cut in. He pointed to Mack, now lying obediently in the back of the Jeep, pretending to be the best-behaved dog in the world. “My mutt apparently spooked the horse.”

“That horse doesn’t spook.” Laura crossed her arms.

“Right. Tell that to General.” Anne closed her eyes, feeling suddenly nauseated. “Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. But imagine my shock, seeing him tacked up and wandering loose in the barn, munching hay in the aisle with nobody around.”

“I left a note so you’d know I took him.” Anne’s head felt boulder-heavy, her neck barely strong enough to hold it upright. She was exhausted, suddenly, and having trouble forming words.

“I never saw it,” Laura said. “Really, Anne, you must have been in a coma if General got out from under you. You’re a better rider than that!”

“Apparently not.” Anne wished people would stop telling her she should be better than she was; she felt like a huge disappointment to everyone. “Look, I need to get back to Flossie’s house now.” She turned to Sebastian despite the knifing pain coming up her left side in little bursts of sensation. “Can you drive me?”

“Of course.” Sebastian apologized to Laura again for his dog’s behavior, then rolled up the windows and pulled out of the driveway. “I really think you ought to get an X-ray first.”

Anne shook her head. “No. I need to get back.”

“For God’s sake. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“I have to go back,” she snapped finally. “I’m nursing. My baby needs to be fed.”

Sebastian glanced at her. She felt his eyes on her breasts before he yanked off his cap and tossed it into the back of the Jeep. As he pulled out of the stable driveway, they could hear the dog happily scrabbling after the hat.

“Mack will chew your cap,” Anne said.

“I have other hats.”

Sebastian didn’t speak again until they’d driven back to Flossie’s house. “Need me to help you to the door?” he said then.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” Anne managed to wrestle the Jeep door open, then had to stop to catch her breath. Sebastian hurried around the car to help her.

Before they’d even made it up the path, she glanced up and saw a note on the door. “I don’t think they’re here,” she said, suddenly panicked. What if something had happened to Lucy, too, while they were apart? “Please. Read the note. I’ll wait here.”

She managed to hold herself upright by pressing one hand to her throbbing side while Sebastian took long strides up the porch steps and snatched the note off its thumbtack.

“They’re at the Houseboat,” he said, waving the note at her. “Where’s that?”

Anne told him. He helped her back into the car and drove to the other side of Folly Cove.

Once he’d parked in front of the cottage, Sebastian came around to her door again. Flossie appeared on the porch as he helped Anne out of the car. Lucy was in Flossie’s arms, wailing; she reached for Anne and nearly wiggled out of Flossie’s arms.

“Well, you’re a sight for somebody’s sore eyes,” Flossie said. “This child is destined for the opera with her lung power.” She raised an eyebrow at Anne’s bloody knee. “What on earth happened?”

“I fell off General,” Anne said. “I’m banged up, but I’m okay.”

Sebastian nodded in her aunt’s direction. “Hello, Flossie,” he said. “Good to see you again.”

“And you,” Flossie murmured, watching him help Anne hobble up the porch steps.

Anne tried not to wince, knowing that would worry her aunt, but she shook her head when Flossie came toward her with Lucy. “Wait. I can’t hold her until I’m sitting down,” she said.

“Yet she wouldn’t let me drive her to the ER,” Sebastian said.

“Because I’m fine,” Anne said.

“Sure you are,” Flossie said. “Right as rain. Never seen you look better.”

Flossie followed them into the house, still carrying the screeching baby, and waited for Sebastian to lower Anne to the couch before settling Lucy on her lap. Anne lifted her shirt and unhooked her bra, too intent on quieting the baby to care who saw what.

Flossie gathered her sweater and keys. “I’ll be off,” she said.

“So soon?” Anne asked in alarm.

“I’ve got things to do. Call if you need me, but I think she’ll go down for a nap after she eats. The little bugger didn’t sleep a wink at my house. I’ll bring dinner around later.” Then Flossie was out the door.

Sebastian hovered with his hands in his pockets, looking everywhere but at Anne. “I’ve never been in here,” he said.

“Why would you have been?” Anne leaned her head back on the sofa, watching him through half-closed eyes, finally relaxing now that Lucy was in her arms.

“My grandmother and your aunt were good friends until Nan died last year.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize.”

“I don’t think many people knew. They were women from very different circles.”

Anne was curious now. “I would think they’d be from the same circles, actually. Your family and mine go way back, right? The Bradfords used to have money, too.”

“My grandfather never approved of Flossie.” Sebastian hesitated, then added, “Flossie is a woman who knows her own mind and doesn’t care what people think. A free spirit and a feminist. My grandmother was the sort who ironed her husband’s shirts and made sure dinner was on the table at six. Old-school in every way. But she admired Flossie.”

“There’s a lot to admire,” Anne said.

The pain seemed more manageable now; maybe it was the effect of the hormones coursing through her body. Lucy nursed so noisily that it was embarrassing. Still, Anne wanted to laugh with relief at the sensation of holding her baby and with the knowledge that she wasn’t going to die in the woods, after all, or be paralyzed or suffer any of the other awful things that could have happened to her. What a responsibility, being a mother and having to keep your body intact so your child would survive.

All at once, Anne felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for her own mother. Sarah had coped with raising three children while running a business on her own. How had she done it without falling apart?

She shifted Lucy to the other breast and remembered to tug down her shirt, though probably not in time to spare Sebastian the sight of her bare breast. He had finally looked at her, and now he couldn’t seem to look away. She was startled by the depth of longing in his eyes.

“Sit down,” she said gently. Then, remembering, “Is your dog all right in the car? You can bring him inside. He can’t hurt anything in here.”

Sebastian went out, then returned with the dog. Mack bounded into the house and went around the corners of its small, tidy spaces, sniffing loudly, making them both smile when he nosed at Lucy, then finally circled at Sebastian’s feet and threw himself down with a groan.

“I really am sorry about him,” Sebastian said, gesturing toward the dog. He sat down in one of the chairs across from her, crossing his long legs at the ankle. He was tall. Anne hadn’t realized how tall until now.

“It wasn’t the dog’s fault. Mack was just doing what dogs do.” Anne put Lucy up against her shoulder and patted her back. The baby’s head felt hot beneath her chin, bowling ball hard. Her hair was damp and curly, her body heavy and still. She was already drifting off to sleep.

“Of course it was his fault,” Sebastian said. “Mine, too. If I’d had him on a leash, you wouldn’t have fallen off. Your sister seems to think you’re a great rider.”

“No. She’s the great rider. I’m the family daydreamer,” Anne said. “That’s why I lost my seat. I’d dropped the reins and slipped my feet out of the stirrups. Anything could have caused the horse to spook and I would have gone right off. So dumb. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She smiled down at Lucy, who’d fallen asleep, head lolling on Anne’s arm, her lips pursed and red.

Sebastian smiled, too. “She’s a beautiful baby. How old?”

“Four months.”

He didn’t ask about the father, but Anne saw his eyes drop to her ring finger. “Is she the reason you came back from Puerto Rico?” he asked.

Anne shook her head. “No. Lucy’s father and I split up. I came home to lick my wounds and get back on my feet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was my fault, too. Even dumber than what happened with the horse. Again, I should have seen it coming.”

“We can never see everything coming our way,” Sebastian said, his expression dark.

His hair was uncombed and he needed to shave. Looking at him across the room, at his wild hair, long legs in jeans, and broad shoulders beneath his flannel shirt, Anne thought Sebastian belonged outdoors, like some feral cat. Even now, his eyes scanned the room, taking in details she’d probably never noticed.

Anne remembered his wife, then, and wondered if it was true that she’d killed herself. What a tragedy, however she’d died. So young.

“What were you doing in the woods?” she asked, hoping Sebastian hadn’t guessed what she was thinking.

“A university botany project on invasive species.”

“What kind?”

“Garlic mustard.”

She couldn’t help laughing, this sounded so absurd. “Ouch.” She put a hand to her side.

“What?” Sebastian scowled. “It’s an important project. The first of its kind to show that an invasive plant can harm native hardwoods like maple and ash trees.”

She was trying to stop laughing—not to spare his feelings, but because laughing hurt—yet couldn’t get ahold of herself.

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, Anne was weeping: from the pain, from the relief she felt at being reunited with Lucy, from exhaustion most of all. She’d never felt so incapable of coping with something as simple as standing up and putting her baby down for a nap.

Sebastian got to his feet and crossed the room in a single long stride, plucked the baby from her shoulder, and said softly, “Where?”

Anne gestured with her chin toward the bedroom, where Lucy’s portable crib was just visible beyond the doorway. He carried her daughter—who looked absurdly small tucked against his broad chest—into the bedroom, lay her down, and gently covered her with a blanket. Then he closed the door partway and came back.

“You’re tired and hurting,” he said. “Let me get you some ibuprofen, at least. Where is it? Bathroom?”

She nodded. “Cabinet. Top shelf.”

He fetched her two tablets and a glass of water, waited for her to swallow the medication, and returned to the kitchen with the glass. “There. Now I should go and let you rest. Sounds like your aunt has dinner covered.”

“You don’t have to leave. I’m fine. Really I am.”

Sebastian smiled at her, the first real smile. His face was transformed. He was handsome. Perhaps even better-looking than he’d been in high school, and that was saying something. “You’re not. But you’re too thick-headed to let me help you, so I should leave before I make you crazy by trying to talk you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

“Which? Make you crazy, or talk you into something?”

“Neither.”

“You don’t know that.” He shook his head. “My wife,” he began, then stopped.

“Your wife, what?” she said.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Sebastian picked up his keys from the table and called the dog unnecessarily: Mack was already on his feet, feathery tail wagging. “Call me if you need help with anything. It’s the least I can do.” He reached out and Anne handed him her cell phone. He put in his number and gave the phone back to her. “I mean it. Call me.”

“I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

“I’ll check on you tomorrow anyway, if that’s all right,” he insisted, and bent down to kiss her cheek.

Anne tipped her face up toward his and saw the shock of recognition in his eyes as she felt the brief touch of his warm lips on her skin. It was as if they’d already made love, which they had, so long ago.

But that was before either of them knew what love was, or how it could tear you apart.