The Road Not Taken

Family.

An ache welled inside Caro, both for what she’d lost and for what should have been. Her parents had been gone five years, the victims of a car accident. She’d been the one to positively identify their bodies, yet she still sometimes found herself reaching for the telephone to call them.

If she were looking for an excuse as to why she’d married Truman, that would be it. She’d been so lonely, so very lost after their deaths. And he’d been understanding and supportive. He’d taken charge, helped her make decisions when she was too griefstricken to do so. It wasn’t until later she’d realized how controlling he could be.

She forced herself back to the matter at hand. She was relieved that she wouldn’t be spending the night alone in the ramshackle inn with its brooding owner, but now she felt like an intruder. Quite obviously, this was a family gathering and she was an outsider. It didn’t help that all eyes were on her when she and Jake stepped into the room. The older man glanced up from his book, the children stopped playing and the couple on the couch shifted to sitting positions.

One of the children was the first to break the silence.

“Uncle Jake’s back! Uncle Jake’s back!” squealed the little girl. She hopped up and shot across the floor to wrap one of his legs in an embrace.

Not to be outdone, the little boy followed suit. He didn’t just hug Jake’s leg, he tried to scale it. Caro smiled. It was just the sort of thing Cabot would do. Jake’s reaction, however, was the polar opposite of what Truman’s would have been. Instead of being befuddled by the boy’s exuberance and a little embarrassed by the affectionate display, Jake scooped him up in his arms.

“Hey, munchkin.”

Caro’s heart did a strange thunk-thunk, which she attributed to wishing for what already should have been the case for her son: a father who not only enjoyed his silly antics but would take part in them. It had nothing to do with Jake, even if at the moment he seemed nothing like the brooding man who not so long ago had begrudgingly offered her shelter from the storm.

His smile was real, smoky blue eyes alight with teasing humor. He was all the more handsome for it.

Thunk, thunk!

This time Caro outright ignored the sensation.

“Daddy said you were going to freeze your fool head off out in the snow.”

Leave it to a child to rat out an adult. But she wisely hid her smile. And good thing, too, since right after Jake asked in an amused voice, “Did he now?” he shot a dark look in the direction of the couch, where the man in question sat, hands on his knees and ready to rise.

Brothers, she decided, and felt another bubble of envy swell. Caro was an only child.

The little boy grinned and nodded vigorously. “Yep. But Grandpa said that a little time alone would do you good.” Now he frowned. “Did it?”

Half of Jake’s mouth rose. “For the most part.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re back, Uncle Jake,” the little girl enthused. “Mommy and Grandma were getting worried that something had happened.”

“What about you?” Jake asked.

“A little. But you’re in-in …” She scrunched up her pretty little face and glanced toward the couch. “What’s that word from the superhero movie we watched last week, Daddy?”

“Invincible,” the man supplied. His lips twisted on the word.

The child repeated it with an adorable lisp while Jake’s expression turned rueful.

His gaze was on his brother when he said, “I’m no hero, super or otherwise.”

He set both of the kids down, even as the couple on the couch and the older man in the rocker rose and stepped forward.

Caro sensed a second meaning to Jake’s words that made her curious, but she didn’t comment on it. She was a guest, one even less welcome than his family apparently was. The underlying tension here was impossible to miss.

No matter, she assured herself. She would be on her way as soon as the snow slowed down and a wrecker could pull out her car.

Which reminded her. “Excuse me, can I use your telephone?”

Before Jake could answer, the little boy asked, “Who’s this, Uncle Jake?”

She didn’t wait to be introduced. “I’m Caro. Your uncle may not be a superhero, but he did rescue me from the storm. My car got stuck in a drift.”

It was a little bit more than stuck, but she mentally crossed her fingers that whatever damage the front had sustained could be repaired without too much fuss.

Jake glanced sharply in her direction. An odd mix of anger and bewilderment colored his expression.

“Right place, right time,” he mumbled. He was back to the surly man who’d first stumbled across her, leaving her to wonder what she’d said to irritate him.

“I’m Jillian,” the little girl said. She stuck out her hand, which Caro shook. “I’m six and I have a loose tooth. Want to see?”

Without waiting for a reply, Jillian opened her mouth and used the tip of her tongue to wiggle one of her top front teeth. Her already-adorable lisp was going to become even more pronounced soon, Caro thought.

“Jilly,” reprimanded the woman from the couch, who was now, along with the man Caro assumed was Jake’s brother and the older man, gathered around Caro in a semicircle, smiling politely even as they stared openly. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s all right. A loose tooth is pretty exciting news for a child.”

Jake cleared his throat and apparently remembered his manners. “Caro, this is my sister-in-law, Bonnie, and my brother, Dean. You’ve met Jillian, of course. Her brother is Riley.”

“I’m almost five,” Riley informed Caro, holding up the corresponding number of digits.

Jillian rolled her eyes. “He just turned four last week.”

Only children were so eager to add a year to their age. Caro bent down to shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Riley.”

The boy’s wide grin revealed a pair of dimples that melted Caro’s heart. Cabot had dimples.

“And this is my father, Martin McCabe,” Jake was saying.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McCabe.” Her hand was swallowed up in one of Martin’s giant paws.

“Likewise.”

Doreen returned then with a couple of towels, making Caro aware of how bedraggled she must look. Truman and his mother would be appalled that she was standing in a roomful of strangers looking like something the cat had dragged in. But then the Wendells wouldn’t socialize with people like the McCabes in the first place. Unless she missed her guess, they weren’t blue-blooded snobs who sat around at dry dinner parties discussing investment strategies, mutual funds and which couples in their social class had failed to make a killing in the stock market.

The McCabes, she realized, were more like her parents had been, down-to-earth folks who valued family, God and country.

The old ache throbbed to life a second time, a little more pronounced. She wrapped her arms about herself, seeking comfort she knew from experience wouldn’t come.

“Good heavens, child! You’re shaking. Get closer to the fire,” Doreen instructed.

“I’m fine,” Caro began. Her protest was lost as the older woman began issuing orders.

“Martin, throw another log on the fire. Dean, give the poor girl the afghan from the couch.” She eyed Caro a moment before continuing. “Bonnie should have something to fit you even though you’re a bit taller.” The older woman’s lips pursed. “And a little on the thin side.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Then what were you thinking heading out in a snowstorm?” Jake demanded.

His mother gasped, presumably at his rude question and not-so-nice tone. It was his tone, as much as his words, that caused Caro’s spine to straighten. Her hands dropped to her sides where her hands fisted.

“I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Not in a storm, you don’t.”

“Jacob!”

They both ignored Doreen’s shout.

“Storm or no storm, it’s important.”

“Nothing is that important,” he drawled. “Trust me.”

“This is.” Thinking of Cabot and Truman’s stipulations, Caro swallowed a sob. It wouldn’t do to fall apart now. “I have … a deadline to meet.”

“Work?” He snorted in disgust. “You risked your life for work?”

Let him think what he would. “Unlike you, I wasn’t out in a blizzard to ride a horse.”

She felt exhilarated, having given as good as she’d got. Meekness no longer suited her. In truth, it never had. But numb as she’d been for four years, first from grief and later from disbelief, she’d fallen into the ill-fitting role. God help her, she would don it again if need be.

That thought had her sobering.

Jake gaped at her, his wide mouth going slack for just a second before his lips pressed together in a flat line. She heard Dean’s muffled laughter and a glance around confirmed that the rest of the McCabe clan found her dressing-down of one of their members amusing rather than in poor taste. Even so, Caro was appalled. Whether the man had it coming or not, she was being unforgivably rude.

“I’m sorry. I … I …”

Jake unclamped his jaw just enough to say, “You mentioned something earlier about needing to make a phone call.”

“Yes. My cell’s not picking up a signal.”

“Follow me.”

Doreen settled the afghan around Caro’s shoulders. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “My son’s bark is a lot worse than his bite.”

Not quite sure what to make of that assessment, Caro offered a weak smile.

Jake was waiting for her at the tall reception desk near the front entrance. A small brass lamp with an oblong shade lit a guest book that was yellowed from age. The telephone, an ancient-looking thing with a twisted cord, rotary dial and clunky black receiver, was next to it.

“It’s not a local call,” she said.

“Fine.” He pushed the telephone toward her.

“I’ll reimburse you for the charges.” It looked as if he could use the money, given the state of the inn. It was a shame, too. The place had such great potential. That much was obvious despite its disrepair.

“Just make your call.”

Jake stomped away. He was angry, but not at Caro, even if he thought she should have stayed tucked safe in her home rather than venturing out in foul weather.

For work!

But the person he was good and angry at was himself. He was angry with the way he was acting. Angry with Dean that his younger brother had called him out on his self-prescribed isolation and stirred up emotions that had only recently begun to settle.

“You’re being selfish,” Dean had said earlier that day.

Jake’s family had arrived en masse the evening before, showing up at his doorstep, all grins and giggles, in an SUV they’d rented after touching down at the airport in Montpelier.

“I just want to be left alone.”

“No, you just want to stew. You got screwed, bro. No two ways about it. They set you up to take a fall. You took it.” The younger man set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I never understood that.”

“A woman was dead. Her child, too. A colleague killed himself afterward.”

And then, Miranda.

“But it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t get the address wrong,” Dean had insisted. “Someone as anal as you doesn’t get stuff like that wrong.”

Jake wanted to believe it, but he couldn’t be sure. Not anymore. Not without proof. “I was in charge. It happened on my watch, which makes it my fault.”

All of it.

“So you keep saying. But it’s been more than a year. When are you going to cut yourself some slack and rejoin the land of the living?”

The woman and her child didn’t have that luxury. Nor did the rookie cop. Those were facts he couldn’t move beyond. Between them and the media scrutiny his family had endured, and his wife’s decision not only to divorce him but to abort their child, going into exile had seemed the only solution.

“There’s nothing for me back there.”

“Except your family.”

The words hit with the impact of flaming arrows, which was Dean’s intention. Jake missed his parents. As annoying as Dean could be, he missed his brother, too. And then there were Bonnie and the kids. They were a tight-knit family.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I know.” His brother had snorted. “So, you’re in Vermont to make a fresh start?”

Jake had said nothing.

“That’s what I thought. If I believed you really wanted to be here, that would be different. But you’re here basically hiding out,” he accused a second time. “And while you’re busy with your pity party, Mom and Dad are left hurting, and my kids are left to wonder why their uncle moved to another state and is living like a hermit.”

“You don’t get it,” Jake had snapped. “I did this for you. I did this for all of you.”

“No, bro. We can take care of ourselves. You did this for yourself. You did this because, in addition to the nasty fallout from that unfortunate police raid, you can’t face what Miranda did.”

Jake had grabbed his brother by the shirt. The old rage boiled inside him, tempting him to take a swing. Instead, he’d let Dean loose, found his coat and headed out into the storm. His temper had yet to subside when he’d spied Caro through the falling snow.

He glanced at her now from the door that led to the kitchen. He couldn’t hear what she was saying into the telephone receiver, but she wasn’t happy. The rigid set of her shoulders and the down-turned corners of her mouth said as much.

What was her story?

There was more to it than she claimed, of that Jake was sure. He might no longer be a cop, but his instincts when it came to people were still good. She didn’t fit the portrait of a driven career woman. Something about her was too soft for the hard-edged, high-stakes business world. And the quality of her clothes screamed high society, even if her car had screamed penny-pincher. Yet she’d endangered her life to meet a deadline.

Why?

She said it was important. Something illegal? His gut told him no, but Jake couldn’t shake his first impression that she was desperate.

Not my problem, he reminded himself, putting his curiosity aside. It was back in an instant when her expression softened and her lips curved into a smile.

Just who was on the other end of the line to make her scowl one moment and melt like butter the next?

She twirled the phone cord around the fingers on her left hand as she spoke. No rings that he could see, but the conversation she was having now had nothing to do with business.

I love you.

Jake didn’t hear the words. Rather, he saw her lips form them just before she set the receiver back in its cradle. He wasn’t disappointed that she was involved with someone, even if he did find her attractive. He was past all but the most primal of feelings where women were concerned. He had his ex-wife to thank for that. Besides, he barely knew this woman. Caro hadn’t deceived him. She hadn’t betrayed him. She hadn’t had time to offer more than cursory explanations.

If she had, would she?

He realized he was still staring at her, probably with a scowl on his face, given her startled expression when she spied him. Her eyebrows lifted; her lips parted. He let loose a mild expletive as he levered away from the doorjamb.

Jake never had been the life of the party. That was Dean with his easy smile and open demeanor. But these days Jake knew he came off as unapproachable. Only his family was immune to his black moods and foul temper.

And this woman, apparently.

Caro surprised him by crossing to where he stood.

He said the first thing that came to mind. “Did you get through okay?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Crisis averted?”

A shadow crept over her face. “What do you mean?”

“The deadline you spoke of. Did you get an extension or a reprieve or … whatever?”

She nodded. “Sort of. For now.”

Why didn’t she look happy about it? A moment ago she’d been smiling and whispering words of love to the party on the other end of the line.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Right.” It was said for his benefit, as was the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were saying something else. It wasn’t desperation he saw in them now. Not entirely, at least. He spied apprehension, nerves. That delayed deadline?

More questions bubbled. After all, it was Saturday afternoon. Tomorrow was Easter Sunday. Just what kind of work was she involved in that required her to be on the clock over a holiday weekend?

And then there was the way she’d ended the phone call. Perhaps she’d had a spat with her lover and they’d resolved it over the phone, but now she was stranded and they wouldn’t be together for the weekend.

That was it, he decided.

“He must be special.”

“Very.” She sighed, and then flushed. “Wh-who?”

Case closed. “Never mind.”

“I also need to call a garage for a wrecker. I wonder if you might have a telephone directory?”

He found a dog-eared book in one of the drawers at the registration desk. It was outdated by half a dozen years. Caro frowned when he handed it to her.

“You don’t have anything more recent?”

“No, but I doubt it will matter. The town hasn’t changed much in the past three decades.”

Quaint, old-fashioned, it was the same year after year. That was part of its draw for tourists. That was exactly its draw for Jake now. He needed a place where his memories weren’t tainted with the stain of the events back in Buffalo.

“Do you have a recommendation?”

He scratched his chin, thinking. “Try Orville’s. They do towing as well as repairs, and it looks like you might have some damage.”

This time, he left her alone to make the call, returning to the living room where his family waited. It was a bad choice if he’d hoped to avoid confrontation. His mother spoke first, which wasn’t surprising. His father preferred to stay in the background, asserting himself only when necessary, but then to great effect. Martin McCabe might be a quiet man, but he was no pushover. Still waters, according to Doreen. And she claimed that, of her two sons, Jake was the one who had inherited the quality.

“Who is she?”

“Just a woman who had the bad luck to have her car go off the road in a storm.”

“A good-looking woman,” Dean mumbled, earning a smack on the arm from his wife.

“Where is she from?”

“Where is she heading?”

“Where is she now?”

His family pelted him with questions. Jake answered his mother’s first.

“She’s calling for a tow truck. I told her to try Orville’s”

“Is he still in business?” his father asked.

“Apparently.”

“Do you really think he will come out in this weather?” Dean wanted to know.

“Not likely.”

“Which means she’ll be spending the night here.” Doreen clicked her tongue. “Heavens, I’d better get busy cleaning up another guest room. God knows they’re not habitable in their present condition.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Bonnie offered.

They started toward the door.

“There’s no need. Caro can have mine,” Jake said.

The chivalrous gesture had his mother smiling and nodding. His brother’s grin, however, had Jake clarifying, “I’ll sleep on the couch in here.”

“Can I sleep down here with Uncle Jake?” Riley wanted to know. He danced excitedly in a circle.

“Me, too! Me, too!” Jillian chanted.

“You’ll sleep upstairs with us,” Bonnie said. Before they could protest, she added, “Remember, the Easter Bunny is coming tonight. It wouldn’t do for him to stumble over a couple of sleeping children while trying to hide your baskets full of treats.”

That quieted them, but only for a moment.

“When are we going to color the eggs?” Jillian asked, hopping on one foot.

“Let’s do it now!” Riley squealed.

“After dinner and before bath time,” their mother said.

On their way from Montpelier’s airport, they’d stopped at a grocery store. They had everything for the holiday feast with them, from the eggs the children were itching to dye to the honey-glazed ham that would be served the following day for dinner. Doreen even had packed the fancy Irish linens the McCabes used every holiday. Jake took in the scene before him. The kids scampering about, his father smoking a pipe while seated fireside. It was so damned easy to pretend that everything was the same with his family here.

Except that it wasn’t. Nothing was the same. This family gathering was different. Someone was missing … and he didn’t mean his ex-wife.

He glanced toward the doorway. Caro stood there—looking tentative, looking utterly beautiful despite her damp hair and pinched expression. She was nothing like Miranda, despite their shared affinity for high-quality clothing. Miranda’s features were far sharper. The description he kept coming back to when it came to this woman was soft, fragile.

Jake cleared his throat. “Any luck getting a tow truck to come out?”

“No. A man answered at the place you suggested, but he said the roads were impassable and he had a dozen or so requests for assistance to handle ahead of mine. With tomorrow being a holiday, he said it would be Monday at the earliest before he could tow my car to his garage.”

Some of that desperation leaked back into her expression. “Is there another garage I should try?”

“Maybe. But I have a feeling they’d all tell you the same thing,” Jake replied.

She nodded glumly.

“Well, not to worry. You’re welcome here,” Doreen said. “You’ll take Jake’s room.”

Her eyelids flickered. In surprise or dismay? “Oh, no. I couldn’t—”

“He insists,” Doreen said.

At Caro’s dubious expression, Jake added, “Actually, I do. It will save my mother and Bonnie from having to clean up another one of the guest rooms.”

She smiled. “Well, in that case …”

“You’d probably like a hot shower,” Doreen said. “Show her where everything is, Jake, while Bonnie and I try to come up with a change of clothes.”

Having been given his marching orders, Jake headed for the stairs. Even though Caro was behind him, he swore he could smell the subtle, sexy scent that wafted from her person.

CHAPTER THREE

CARO FOLLOWED JAKE UP the stairs just past the reception desk. The oak banister wobbled under her hand and the steps creaked beneath a maroon carpet runner that was worn and faded from age.

At the top, he turned right, bypassing two doors before stopping to open the third.

“This is it,” he said.

Jake stepped backward to allow her to enter the room first. She’d assumed she would follow him inside and so they wound up bumping into one another. The side of his foot came down on her big toe and the point of his elbow found her breast.

“God, sorry.”

“Excuse me,” she said.

Their words were issued simultaneously and with an equal measure of awkwardness.

“Um, are you … okay?” he asked.

“Fine. Good thing you aren’t still wearing your boots.” Caro chose to ignore entirely the other injury she’d suffered.

This time she was ready when Jake waved her ahead.

The room was a good size, with a dormer wide enough to fit a desk and a sitting area comprised of two wingback chairs that flanked a fireplace. Clothes were draped over the chairs, making it clear sitting wasn’t their function these days. But the fireplace looked to be in working order, if the ashes and charred log inside the opening were any indication.

Caro wished it were lit now. She felt as if she would never be warm again. But she didn’t ask Jake to indulge her. She’d put him through too much trouble already.

The other main focus of the room, of course, was the bed. It was an antique brass number that she’d bet was original to the inn. She crossed to get a better look at the detail work on the tarnished headboard. As she rested one hand on the cool metal, the covers distracted her. They lay in a twisted heap in the center of the sagging mattress. Hers always looked the same by morning, no matter how diligently she tucked in the sheets. She pictured Jake there, tossing and turning. Intrigued, she nonetheless forced the image away.