Present Day. The Old Gristmill
Valery let herself out of the Jeep, but Grayson met her halfway to slip his hand into hers. Their feet crunched on the new gravel as she marveled at the work his crews had already accomplished.
“You rebuilt the road.”
“And added a parking lot.” He sounded proud, and she was proud for him. Already the area looked more alive, more cared for than she’d ever seen. “Devlin has a terrific plan for the area below the waterwheel and around the creek. Walking paths, benches, pretty flowers, a wishing well. Maybe even weddings.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Can we walk around and look?”
A romantic walk. What harm was there in that?
“Whatever you want.”
Oh, how she wished that were true. She wanted so much. So much she couldn’t have. She wanted him. She wanted his love and his respect.
How did she ask him to respect her when she hadn’t respected herself in sixteen years? But he didn’t know those things, and she certainly wouldn’t tell him. For now he thought she was someone special, and she wanted to keep him in the dark as long as he was in Honey Ridge.
Walking close, they circled the building, moving slowly, stopping here and there as Grayson pointed out changes or prospective renovations.
A security light illuminated the front of the mill, fading out until the darkness swallowed the glow and left only a half moon to light the creek and waterfalls in silvery shadows.
“It’s not spooky at all,” she said. “Not like when I was a kid.”
“I thought you liked the mill.”
“I do. Always have. But you know how kids are. We’d come here on purpose to scare each other. After reading Hayden’s book about Josie and Thad, I can imagine what the mill and the inn were like back in the 1800s. Thriving industry. Full of people. Modern for its day.”
“They fell in love here. Josie and Thad.” He nodded toward the creek. “According to Hayden’s book.”
“I like to believe it’s true.”
“Even if it isn’t, it makes a great story that will attract customers to the restaurant.”
“Always the businessman.” She bopped his arm. “Don’t you dare look at your watch.”
Grayson made a move as if to do exactly that. “Are you going to wrestle me down and steal it again?”
The memory of that afternoon in the family room flashed between them. His gaze lingered on hers. He was remembering, too.
He hadn’t kissed her since then. He’d backed away, cautious, and though she didn’t like the distance, she’d thought it was for the best.
The night pulsed, as loud and familiar as any Tennessee night with frogs and katydids and night birds rustling in the trees. A frog plopped into the water, and in the moonlight silver circles moved like radar signals across the shallow creek.
Grayson circled an arm around her waist and, when she thought he might finally kiss her again, said instead, “I’m proud of you.”
She hadn’t expected that. Proud? Was the man deluded? “Why?”
“The pink tote bag.”
She stiffened, unaccustomed to such straight talk, but he drew her close, his embrace light and easy as he gazed down at her with affection.
“You didn’t go back for it.”
Yes, she had. She’d gone to the cemetery twice since then to plant flowers and, if she was honest, to feel numb. But for reasons she couldn’t understand she’d changed her mind and left the tote and its contents right where he’d put them.
“I’m trying to break my bad habits.”
“I’d like to help. If you’ll let me.” He stroked a knuckle across her cheek with exquisite tenderness. She shivered. “You’re a special woman, Valery. To me.”
Her throat clogged with emotion. She wanted desperately to be as special as he seemed to think. Grayson cared about her. She could tell. Really cared. He was not a party boy who would disappear tomorrow. He was solid, stable, scary as all get out.
“I’m not that special, Grayson. I’ve made too many mistakes. Shattered too many dreams.”
“You’re talking about the dance career, aren’t you?”
She nodded, needing to tell him, knowing she should. “The dance career I didn’t have.”
“You were on your way. What happened?”
You do not want to know the answer to that question.
“I loved to dance. Nothing made me happier and more fulfilled than when I was dancing. Everyone, even my teachers and the agent in Nashville, said I had a future in the profession.”
“You did the music videos in Nashville. I found a couple on YouTube.”
“I’ve never watched them.”
“No? You should. You were incredible. As light and graceful as a butterfly. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
She shook her head. “Why bother? That part of my life is over. Digging up the past is never a good idea.”
“If that’s true, I’m in the wrong business.”
“What you do is different.”
“Is it?”
Before she could respond, he began to hum and moved her across the grass in a slow waltz. Her traitorous body knew the way too well and ignored her brain’s command to stop.
She shouldn’t dance with him. She couldn’t. She didn’t deserve that kind of pleasure. Yet Grayson continued to sway and carry her along.
He called her special, and here in his strong, decent arms she almost believed him. With him, she felt safe and secure, free of the weight on her soul. With Grayson she felt worthwhile.
He waltzed smoothly, easily, one hand on her waist and the other holding her hand against his heart. She felt the beat against her palm, strong and steady and full of goodness.
Every cell in her body responded to the pure freedom, to him.
She longed to tell him everything, to dump her ugly past and the painful truth at his feet, but fear held her back. Fear of Grayson’s reaction. Fear of Mama’s.
Her mother would pitch a hissy fit if she knew Valery had even considered airing dirty laundry in public. Never mind that telling Grayson wasn’t the same as taking out a full-page ad in the Honey Ridge Herald. Carters did not share such shameful secrets. They swept them under the rug, ignored them and, if they tried to break free in other areas, if they drank too much or partied too hard, hushed that up, too.
Valery didn’t have a man problem or a drinking problem. She had heart trouble.
What of Grayson? What would he think of her? Would the affection in his touch and in his eyes frost over if he knew? Would he believe as she did that she was an awful person?
But in his arms, gliding across the cool spring grass, his heart beating against her skin, she wanted to believe he’d understand or at least forgive her even if she couldn’t forgive herself.
She so desperately wanted to believe again.
“You’re humming Patience’s song,” she whispered, and was rewarded when he tugged her ever nearer to hum softly in her ear. The vibrations shimmied up her neck, lifting the tiny hairs and sending tiny electric charges through her body.
She laced her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, listening, feeling the rhythm of the music in his movements.
And they danced.
Somewhere in the moonlight and the moment, she put aside the obstacle between his heart and hers, and let herself be happy.
She was falling in love with Grayson Blake.
The dance may have lasted an hour, or it may have lasted a minute. She didn’t know, didn’t care, and a smug little part of her realized he’d lost track of time, as well. She hadn’t needed to steal his watch.
She was vaguely aware of traffic and a baying hound somewhere in the distance, but her time was here and now with the hum of crickets and the whisper of sleepy water sliding over the rocks.
She could stay here all night, waltzing with Grayson.
Too soon, Grayson ended their dance with a dip and a flourish, leaning her back over his arm. She laughed lightly, nearly euphoric. As he brought her back to him, he kissed her once, long and tender, and she rested there, quiet and content in his arms.
When was the last time she’d felt anything near contentment? All the men, the parties, the running hither and yon, had left her soul weary. Tonight, here on Josie and Thad’s creek bank, she found rest.
“That was wonderful.” She brushed his neck with her lips.
He shivered in pleasure, and his voice deepened, muted and tender. “You were wonderful.”
She shook her head in denial, but he tilted back, lifting her chin with the tips of his fingers.
“You’re fooling yourself if you think you can deny or hide your talent, Valery. You were like an angel in my arms, as light as a butterfly.”
“I had a good partner.”
“No. I only went along for the ride. You were magical, transported to another plane.”
He was right. “That’s the way I feel when I dance. Transported. Happy. Free.” She hadn’t said those words in years.
“There you go, then. It’s your passion, and I can’t imagine why you’d deny yourself. You were born to dance. It’s God’s gift, and you were meant to share it.”
Valery knew deep in her heart that what he said was true. Hiding her passion made her unhappy, discontent and restless. She’d pursued so many other avenues and not one satisfied.
“I’m too old to start again. The window of career opportunity has long passed.”
“Is that true? Or are you afraid of failing? Is that why you gave up your dream? Fear?”
Not fear. Guilt. Penance. But she couldn’t tell him that.
When she didn’t answer, he pressed. “What about a dance studio? You’re so good with Alex. You’d be a great teacher.”
The notion rose in her spirit like the phoenix from the ashes. She could teach others to love the art, to express themselves through movement and music. She could dance again.
“I wonder if I could...”
“I know you can. You’re a natural.”
Hope was a glowing ember in a field of dry grass. Could she? More important, should she? Was it a dream she could pursue?
The idea was so wonderful, her body felt weak with wanting it.
He’d given her much to think about. She placed her palm alongside his strong, handsome jaw, loving the feel of him, absorbing his warmth and sincerity.
“Your encouragement means a lot.”
He folded his hand over hers and brought her palm to his lips. “My pleasure.”
She knew he meant every word.
An owl hooted and she jumped. Grayson chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest.
“No more ghosts, remember? We’ve eradicated the last one.”
They both turned toward the mill and toward the basement neither could see from here. Mr. Bones was gone now.
Grayson looped his arms over her shoulders and rested his chin in her hair. Valery snuggled close, relieved to switch from her ghosts to the mill’s.
“Do you think we’ll ever know what happened to him?”
“Doubtful, but stranger things have happened.”
“True. Who would have imagined you’d discover a hundred-fifty-year-old grave?”
“Exactly. Someone buried him in secret, but secrets have a way of revealing themselves eventually.”
Valery closed her eyes, heard the night music and hoped that he was wrong.