True Devotion

But she wouldn’t be asking any questions of Nathan.

She’d puzzled over his attitude since their conversation the day before, but she still hadn’t reached any conclusions. When he’d come into the cottage knowing who she was, he’d seemed sympathetic. But the longer they’d talked, the more edgy he’d become.

Finally it was as if he’d shut down. He’d been unable to relate to her any longer.

Some people were made uncomfortable by others’ grief. It could be that, but she didn’t quite believe the answer was that simple. She’d sensed some strong emotion moving behind his solid exterior. Whatever that feeling had been, he clearly hadn’t meant to share it with her.

She moved into the aisle, grasping the carved arm of the pew for balance. Her nerves came to attention. Nathan was just a few people ahead of her. He held his father’s arm, and a sulky Jen trailed behind them.

Nathan in a suit and tie might have looked oddly formal, since the man seemed to prefer jeans when he wasn’t in uniform, but that wasn’t the impression she got. His assured stance didn’t change no matter what he wore.

The line of people worked its way slowly back down the aisle toward the door. Everyone in the small sanctuary seemed determined to be friendly. Susannah had to stop every few feet to respond to introductions and welcoming words. She evaded invitations to come again and tried not to be aware that Nathan could probably hear every word she said.

What difference did that make? She wasn’t trying to impress Nathan Sloane.

Maybe not, but she couldn’t ignore him, either.

She reached the door at last and shook hands with the young pastor. When she stepped out into the sunshine, she found that the party from the lodge was waiting for her. Daniel came forward, hand outstretched.

“Glad you joined us at worship, Susannah. If we’d known you were coming, you could have ridden with us.”

The older man’s open, welcoming smile was a marked contrast to Nathan’s closed and shuttered expression. And to Jen’s totally bored look, for that matter.

“That’s kind of you. It was a lovely service. Your congregation is certainly friendly.” Except, possibly, for one member.

“We try to be.” Daniel, apparently feeling his son’s silence to be oppressive, gave him a sharp look. “You might like to join us for the potluck supper we’re having on Wednesday evening. You’d be more than welcome, and you don’t have to bring anything.”

Nathan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if eager to get moving. “I doubt Susannah’s interested in getting that involved with the church. Not that you’re not welcome,” he added, apparently feeling he’d sounded eager to be rid of her.

Which he was, as far as she could tell. She’d like to know why.

“Thank you. I’ll see how things are going by Wednesday.” She took a step away from them. “I think I’ll take a walk through town, as long as I’m here.”

“You know, maybe I’ll join you,” Daniel said.

“I thought you were going to relax and read the paper after church.” Nathan’s tone clearly conveyed disapproval.

“Later.” Daniel nodded cheerfully to his son. “You go ahead and take Jen home. I’ll ride back with Susannah.” He glanced at her with a smile. “If that’s all right with you.”

“I’d be happy for the company.”

She ignored Nathan’s frown. Daniel wouldn’t be maneuvering to be alone in her company unless he had something to say that he didn’t want the others to hear. Her pulse quickened. Something about Trevor’s visits to Lakemont?

Without waiting for any further response from his son, Daniel took her arm. He steered her away, leaving the other two looking after them.

The sidewalk led along the lakefront, with shops and restaurants lining the opposite side of the narrow street. Susannah looked out over the lake, seeing the gold and red of the turning leaves reflected in its mirrored surface.

“It’s a gorgeous day for a walk.” She glanced at the man next to her as Daniel matched his stride to hers. Remembering what Nathan had said about his heart attack, she slowed down a little.

“It is that.”

“But I have the feeling there’s something on your mind besides taking a stroll.”

His smile was very like Nathan’s. “Oh, I don’t know. A walk seemed like a good idea. My son’s too inclined to fuss over me.”

“He worries about you because he loves you. That’s a good thing.”

“It is.” His eyes twinkled. “Just a little irksome at times.”

“I suppose so.” She thought of her own efforts to escape Enid’s constant pampering. “My mother-in-law tends to do that to me.”

“Well, yes, Enid always did flutter, as I recall. I can understand why you don’t want her to know you’re here.”

They’d edged into the topic on her mind, and she tried to find a way to ask her questions. Maybe the only way was to come right out with it.

She stopped, hand on the railing that lined the walk. Daniel halted next her, leaning on the rail. A little farther along an intent young man focused his camera on the view of lake and mountains.

“Do you remember much about Trevor’s stay at the lodge in the spring?”

“Sure I do. It was a pleasure to see that boy again.” He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t suppose he’d have appreciated my calling him a boy, but that’s how I remember him. Trevor wasn’t a man yet when the family stopped coming here in the summer.”

“The vacation house burned down, didn’t it? I suppose that’s why they didn’t come back.”

“I guess that was it. Anyway, it was nice to see Trevor again.”

“What did he do while he was here?” She hesitated, wondering if she should try to explain that question in some way, but Daniel didn’t seem to think it odd.

“Well, I’m not sure I know exactly. He went into town most evenings, as I recall. Oh, and I know he went to the ruins of the old house.”

She frowned, trying to remember the last time Trevor had mentioned the vacation house. “Did he say why he wanted to see it?”

He shrugged. “Sentiment, I suppose. Or maybe he was thinking about rebuilding.”

“Maybe.” He’d have talked to Enid about that, surely.

She tried to picture Trevor walking around Lakemont in the evenings, tried to imagine him visiting the ruins of the place where he’d spent summers as a boy.

It didn’t seem to help much, but at least it gave her a place to start. She’d pay her own visit to whatever remained of the summerhouse.

Daniel patted her hand. “If you want to talk about him anytime, I’m here. We’d all like to help you.”

All but Nathan.

“I’m afraid I make your son uncomfortable.” The words were out before she considered that they might sound critical.

“Well, Nathan’s got his own set of problems.” He glanced at her, the look questioning. “You know about his wife, don’t you?”

“I didn’t know he was married.”

He nodded. “Married his high school sweetheart. He and Linda never seemed to have eyes for anyone else. She died five years ago.”

Shock jolted her, and she clung to the railing, the wood rough on her palm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” No wonder Nathan was edgy around her. “I suppose my being here, my grief, reminds him of his own loss.”

“Well, it’s not just that.” Daniel hesitated, the lines in his face deepening. He seemed reluctant to say something he knew he must. “The thing is, Nathan and Linda lived in the cottage you’re staying in. And she was pregnant when she died.”

The words hit her like a blow. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think.

Poor Nathan. No wonder he hated being in the cottage with her. Hated seeing her there.

“I—” She didn’t know what to say first. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Why did Jen put me in the cottage?”

“She didn’t know about Linda.” He shrugged. “And we do rent the cottage when someone wants it. It’s just unfortunate that—”

“That it happened to be me.” She shook her head, feeling a little nauseated. “How did his wife die? What happened to her?”

Sorrow carved deeper lines in his face. “The doctors said Linda had an undetected heart defect. One of those things that people never even know they have.” He paused. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but she and the baby both died.”

She rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the chill that settled into her bones. Or her heart. No wonder Nathan was so protective of his father after his heart attack.

“Should I move out of the cottage?”

Daniel’s gaze was troubled. “I thought so at first. But it seems as if having you there is making Nathan face his feelings instead of locking them away. That might be a good thing.”

“I can move into the lodge.” Her preference for the cottage paled in the face of this information.

“If you’re okay with it, maybe you ought to stay where you are. Maybe it’s better that way.” He put the words cautiously, as if he thought she might be upset at knowing the pregnant woman who’d lived there had died.

She was upset, but not out of any superstitious fear.

“All right. I’ll stay at the cottage for now, but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

He nodded, his face still troubled.

Poor Nathan.

The words repeated themselves in her mind. Was that what people were saying about her? She found she didn’t like the sound of it.

She understood. Of all the people in the world, she understood what Nathan was feeling.

That sense of intimate knowledge shook her. It might be better not to empathize so well. It might be safer for both of them.

Susannah had come to the lodge for breakfast the next morning because she couldn’t face staying alone at the cottage any longer. But even an excellent breakfast hadn’t dispelled the cloud that hung over her.

The dining room had emptied gradually. She was left alone with the server who was clearing tables.

She couldn’t dismiss Daniel’s words from her mind. Nathan’s young wife, and his child, wiped out of his life in a moment.

And how she was going to face Nathan again with this knowledge hovering in her consciousness—well, maybe it would be better if she didn’t see him for a while.

“More tea, Ms. Laine?” The server hovered over her, teapot at the ready. Laine. She’d given up the pretence once Nathan and his father knew the truth. She’d probably stand a better chance of finding something out this way, in any case.

“No, thanks, Rhoda.”

The woman nodded, returning the teapot to her tray and removing Susannah’s dishes deftly. Rhoda Welsh apparently did just about everything at the lodge. She was quick and efficient, and she certainly didn’t chatter. In fact, Susannah hadn’t seen her exchange more than a couple of words with anyone.

Susannah watched her idly. She was in her late thirties probably, with a fine-boned, impassive face that didn’t give anything away. She’d be an attractive woman if she weren’t so withdrawn.

“It’s quiet after the weekend, isn’t it?”

Rhoda looked startled to have a response expected of her. “I suppose so.” She set dishes on the tray. “Would you like anything else?”

The woman’s bland politeness seemed to repel further comment. The impulse Susannah had had to ask if she remembered Trevor withered away. What could the woman say, even if she bothered to answer?

“No, that’s all. Thank you.”

The woman slipped noiselessly away. Susannah picked up her jacket and bag and crossed the dining room. At least she had a destination in mind this morning.

As she pushed open the door, Nathan jogged up the stairs toward her. In fact, jogged did seem to be the operative word. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and his dark hair clung damply to his head. He wore sweats and sneakers, and he’d obviously been running.

He held the door for her. “Good morning. Where are you off to this morning?”

He was trying to be pleasant, and that had to cost him an effort.

“I’m planning to have a look at what’s left of the vacation house.” Because your father told me yesterday that Trevor did that when he was here. “I suppose Enid and I really ought to do something about the property.”

He frowned. “You can’t do that.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

He planted a large hand on the porch post, as if to bar her way. “I mean, you shouldn’t go over there. Not alone. The place is an overgrown mess.”

“All the more reason why I should have a look.” She brushed past him and started down the steps.

He followed her. “Look, I’m telling you, it’s not safe. They never did a proper job of razing the house. You shouldn’t be wandering around there—”

“Alone,” she finished for him, her voice tart. “I know. I get the message. I’ll be careful.” She started toward her car.

He caught her arm, turned her so that she faced the police cruiser, and opened the door.

She impaled him with her coolest stare. “Are you arresting me?”

“No, I’m taking you to the Laine house.” At her incredulous expression, he gave an exasperated sigh. “If you’re that determined to go, I’ll take you. I don’t want to have it on my conscience if you fall down and break an ankle. Can you wait until I shower?” He swung the towel from around his neck and wiped his face.

“I don’t need your help.” Well, that sounded petulant. She tried again. “I appreciate your offer, but I’ll be perfectly fine by myself.”

“Look, if you’re going, I’m going with you, so you may as well get in the car and save us both an argument.”

His face looked as if it had been carved from the same rock as the cliff above them. Clearly he didn’t intend to give an inch. If she drove alone, he’d probably follow her.

She slid into the front seat of the cruiser. With a nod that accepted her capitulation, he closed the door.

He got in and started the car while she surveyed the dash with its police radio.

“I’ve never been in a police cruiser before. It’s intimidating.”

His lips twitched. “You haven’t seemed too intimidated so far. Exactly the opposite, as a matter of fact.”

“That’s just because you’re overprotective. Ordinarily I’m perfectly agreeable.”

Fifteen minutes ago she’d been worrying about how she’d face him. Now they seemed to have reached a new level of communication, and she wasn’t sure why. Because she’d forgotten about his history while they were busy arguing?

Maybe. Or maybe he’d forced his way past the reminder she represented of his own grief.

Whatever had caused it, she could only be grateful. She didn’t want to walk on eggshells around Nathan for the rest of her stay. She settled back against the seat as the cruiser pulled out of the parking area.

The road wound along the lake, a gray ribbon unfurling through a patchwork of gold, green and red. The maples were already dropping their leaves, and the sumacs sent red spires toward the sky like so many torches.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She glanced toward him, to find him frowning at the road ahead.

“What? Oh, sure.” Clearly he hadn’t been thinking about the scenery.

Was he thinking about what a nuisance she was? Or speculating on how soon she’d be out of his hair?

A wave of annoyance went through her. “Look, you really didn’t have to do this.”

Nathan didn’t look at her, but his eyebrow rose slightly. “I thought we were finished with that conversation.” He slowed, flicking the turn signal. “We’re here, anyway.”

He turned into the lane. She remembered the road as wide and well kept, but now it was a rutted, overgrown trail through a tangle of undergrowth. She probably wouldn’t have been able to pick out the turnoff if she’d been alone.

“I see what you meant about the place.” She winced as a dangling crimson vine of Virginia creeper slapped the car’s windshield. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for damage to the police cruiser.”

“It’s been through worse.” He steered around a deep pothole and rounded a clump of rhododendron.

They emerged into the open by the water. Nathan stopped the car where the lane petered out. He leaned across her to gesture to the right.

“That’s all that’s left, I’m afraid.”

She remembered a gracious clapboard house with a wide porch overlooking the lake. Now blackened timbers jutted upward, and a tangled mass of wrought iron sagged to the ground where the porch had been.

She unbuckled her seat belt and slid out without waiting for Nathan to help her. She stood looking, trying to imagine what the fire must have been like.

She swallowed hard, saddened at the devastation. “Depressing, isn’t it?”

He came around the car to stand next to her. “I’m afraid by the time the fire trucks got here, it was past saving. That happens too often with vacant cottages. I always wondered why Trevor’s parents didn’t either rebuild the house or sell the land.”

That would have been her late father-in-law’s decision. He’d always decided everything, while Enid smiled and nodded agreement.

“Trevor came over when he was here.” She repeated what Daniel had said, trying to make sense of that visit.

Nathan nodded. “I remember he mentioned wanting to see the place. Was he planning to rebuild?”

That was obviously something she should have known if she’d been aware of Trevor’s visit to the lodge.

“I don’t think he’d decided yet.” She leaned back against the car, absorbing its warmth. A ray of sunlight, striking through crimson leaves, gave the illusion the fire still burned. “I remember how much he loved this place when he was a kid.”

He leaned against the car, next to her, apparently content to let her take as long as she wanted. “Had you ever been here with him?”

“Not after we were married. I was here as a child, though.”

He turned to look at her. “You were? I guess that means you knew Trevor for a long time.”

“Our mothers were close friends, so we grew up together. I came to the lake for a visit when I was ten.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

She pressed her palms against the car as that visit came to life in her memory. “It wasn’t a happy time for me. My mother was in the hospital, and my father sent me to Enid while she had surgery.”

“That’s hard on a kid. You must have been scared.” His voice warmed with sympathy.

“Scared, mad, you name it. You know what it’s like when you sense that something’s terribly wrong and no one will tell you the truth?”

He seemed to understand what she didn’t say. “Your mother?”

“It was cancer. She didn’t make it.”

She wouldn’t tell him the rest of it—that her father, always dependent on her mother’s strength, hadn’t known what to do with her after her mother’s death. That she’d spent most of her time after that at boarding school or farmed out to friends, her home life gone.

She moved her hand to her stomach. That’s not going to happen to you, little Sarah.

“I’m so sorry.” His shoulder pressed warmly against hers. “That was rough.”

Her throat tightened, and again she felt that irrational longing to lean against him. But she couldn’t. It was time to lighten this conversation.

“Be sorry for everyone around me that summer. I made their lives miserable, too.”

“They could probably take it.”

She glanced at him. He had a cleft in his chin that seemed to mitigate his face’s stern planes. “Actually, I remember a certain lifeguard telling me to stop being a brat.”

“Me?” He raised those level brows. “I’d never have said that to a kid. You must be thinking of someone else.”

“No, it was you, all right. Nathan Sloane, the most popular guy on the beach. All the teenage girls vied for your attention. It’s a wonder one of them didn’t try drowning herself to get it.”

He grinned, his face relaxing. “Actually, I did hear a few phony calls for help in my time.”

His smile did amazing things to his usually serious face. No wonder the girls had been crazy about him.

“I also remember seeing you hanging around the baby-sitter Enid had for Trevor and me. In fact, I caught you kissing her one night right down there on the dock.”

She gestured toward the spot, then turned back toward him. Her heart jolted. The smile had been wiped from his face, leaving it stripped and hard.

Then she remembered. Linda. The baby-sitter had been Linda Everett. The woman he married. The woman he’d lost.

Chapter Four

Sitting on the front porch of the cottage the next afternoon, Susannah watched as the police cruiser pulled out of the lodge’s parking lot and disappeared toward town in a swirl of autumn leaves. Nathan had gone. It was safe to go to the lodge.

Safe? She thought about the word. Who was she trying to protect—Nathan or herself?

Those moments at the ruined house were permanently engraved upon her mind. She’d been careless, and her unthinking words had hurt him.

She pressed her hand against the spot where the baby seemed to be doing gymnastics. She certainly hadn’t intended to cause him pain with her mention of that long-ago summer. She’d actually been relieved because they’d seemed able to converse like any two casual acquaintances.

Well, clearly they couldn’t. Her very presence was a constant irritation to him, and she had to accept that. The best thing she could do for herself and for Nathan was to avoid him entirely.

She shoved herself out of the rocking chair, holding the porch post for a moment for balance. Their visit to the old summerhouse hadn’t accomplished anything except to put another barrier between her and Nathan.

She’d have to find out some other way what had taken Trevor there. She descended the steps and started toward the lodge. She’d talk with Daniel again. Maybe he’d remember something else Trevor had said.

A small voice whispered in her mind that she was avoiding the obvious. Enid might know why Trevor would want to see the ruins of their vacation home.

But Enid was out of bounds at the moment, because Enid didn’t know what she was up to. Questioning her would only raise suspicions, in addition to a flood of tears. No, it was better this way.

She entered the lodge, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimness after the brilliant display of color outside. Daniel was behind the registration desk, as she’d hoped. But he wasn’t alone.

“I’d think you’d want me to work on this stupid homecoming float.” Jen leaned toward Daniel, every line of her slight figure tense in her black jeans and sweater. “You’re always telling me to get involved in stuff.”

“Of course I want you to participate.” Daniel’s usually serene face looked ruffled. “But you know I don’t understand this computer. If I try to do these entries, goodness knows where they’ll end up.”

That sounded remarkably like an invitation to Susannah. “May I help you with that?”

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