Chapter Seven
The windows in the courthouse had been scrubbed clean, allowing the bright autumn sunlight to stream across the huge mural covering the entire wall. Bright colors portrayed a large group of men standing aboard a pitching raft made of gigantic logs, as they floated down a river toward the lake in the background. While it was only a painting, somehow the artist had managed to capture the movement, the bustle, the danger, perfectly.
Mr. Davis danced from one foot to the other, his breath escaping in little puffing gasps. "Isn't it magnificent? It's the finest example I've ever seen! And to think some moron had covered this with that atrocious wallpaper. It's stunning, simply stunning!"
"Holy cow." Shawn took a step closer, studying the image. "Did you have any idea this was here?" He turned to look at Conner, slouched against the door jam.
Conner took a step closer, careful not to trip on the extension cords powering the lights. "Nope. What do you mean, 'one of the finest examples.' Examples of what?"
"I think it's one of the lost WPA murals!"
When they all stood there, staring at him, Mr. Davis shook his head like they were the biggest bunch of imbeciles he'd ever met. "It was created for the Federal Art Project of the Works Progress Administration. It's New Deal artwork. During the Great Depression, artists were out of work too. The federal government commissioned works of art for its buildings to generate income for artists. All across the country, works of art like this one have been lost, destroyed, stolen. To recover one, and one as significant as this, is a great, great thing!" And he beamed at them, like he'd handed out candy canes on Christmas morning.
Conner shoved away from the wall and took a few steps closer. "So this mural, it's worth something then?"
Mr. Davis nodded so hard his glasses slid down his nose. "Oh yes. Certainly. I'd say perhaps hundreds of thousands of dollars. But this painting doesn't belong to you. It's the property of the Federal Government. I've already notified them."
Conner yanked a hand through his hair, not even noticing when several strands wrapped around his fingers and were jerked out. "Great. So I find a priceless painting in a building I own and it's not mine. This building is for sale, Mr. Davis. Can I do that or will that not be allowed by the Federal Government either?" He all but growled the words and Mr. Davis took several hasty steps backward.
"I'm sure I don't know. I imagine it would be best to wait until you hear from someone from the GSA. I imagine they'll have someone here within a week or two. A find of this magnitude, well, it's truly amazing."
Conner swore and left the room, his work boots rapping hollowly against the wooden floorboards of the hallway.
Mr. Davis bent and shoved his tools back into a large duffel bag. "You may tell him no payment is necessary. To be recorded in history as the man who rediscovered this artwork is quite enough for me." He shuffled out of the room.
Andie looked at the painting, trying to ignore the sick weight of disappointment that had settled in her chest. "It really is beautiful," she whispered.
Shawn stepped next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "It is." He tucked her neatly against his side, like he could keep her there, keep her safe forever. "Andie, do you have feelings for Conner?"
She turned her face into his chest. "I don't know."
"Conner, he's a good guy, but he isn't like us. He doesn't feel... connected to Port Haven like we do. I don't think he'll settle down any time soon." Shawn put a finger under her chin and tipped her head back until he could see her face. "I don't want you to be hurt. You haven't dated anyone seriously since Mom and Dad... You work so hard to hold everything together. You're so strong, but, Andie, you're rigid. You don't flex or bend. One good storm, and I'm worried you're going to crack."
"I'm fine," Andie said. The denial was automatic, she didn't even stop to think about the words before she said them. But were they the truth? To be honest, Andie didn't know.
She'd thought she was fine for a long time now, but lately, she was beginning to wonder. Was Shawn right? Was she on the verge of breaking?
Andie's whole life had shattered into a million pieces with the death of her parents. She'd worked long and hard to put those pieces back together. She'd thought she'd managed it, not reassembling them, but fusing them back together, so that the broken sections of her heart, her soul, made a whole as seamless as a piece of glass. But maybe the truth of it was that Andie hadn't been looking too closely. Andie had the sickly feeling that if she could find the courage to look close enough, maybe, the clear glass of her life wasn't so clear after all. Maybe, she'd find thin, snaking, hairline cracks running everywhere, in all directions. And she was worried what one, hard blow might do those cracks.
***
When Conner had called the night before, Andie had been emotionally exhausted from spending the day with Diana at the hospital, toughing out her first chemo session. He understood that, but he knew that wasn't why she turned down his request for a date. She didn't trust him, didn't think that he could want her. He couldn't blame her, either, not when he'd told her that he'd never see her as more than a sister back on graduation night. But man, had he ever been wrong.
So he'd simply shown up this morning at her house, coffee in hand. It took an hour to convince her to go out with him, but he'd done it. He still couldn't quite believe that she was here with him now, as the canoe glided through the reeds, the soft shush of their dry leaves blended with the lap of water against the hull of the boat to make a quiet music. Conner's breath slowed, calmed, as stripes of sun and shade slid across his skin. Ahead of him, Andie's curls shone bright as the birch leaves that shimmered overhead.
He watched her, waiting for her to let go, to relax, but he could tell by the way that she sat, still as a sharp spire of granite, that she was afraid.
"Andie," he said, careful to keep his voice low and soothing. "We're not going to tip."
"No, I know." Her voice was high and shaky and she laughed a little at herself. "I know, but I can't stop worrying that we will."
"This is my job. I've spent the last eleven years becoming an expert at this. I've canoed white-water that regular people can't even get a big rubber raft down without tipping. I can handle this." He sliced the paddle effortlessly into the water, watching the shimmer of water droplets rain down as he lifted it again, brighter than any diamond in a store. And, making a split second decision, he changed their course. Instead of continuing to head up the river, deeper into the forest and away from the lake, he skimmed across the water toward the grassy bank on their right-hand side.
The bottom of the canoe shuddered as it beached on the sandbar beneath them. Conner leaped out and pulled the boat forward even more, until he knew it wasn't going anywhere. He held out his hand to Andie, helped her to her feet, then swung her up into his arms and waded through water so cold it made the bones in his feet ache, until he reached the shore. He tightened his grip slightly, feeling the warmth of her against him, the slide of her breasts against his chest, before depositing her on the grass.
He grinned when she stared at him, her eyes slightly wide, baffled. "Be right back," he said. He slogged to the canoe, lifted the rain jacket she'd thrown in the back. Underneath was the picnic basket and the armful of warm, wool blankets he'd cradled it with.
"Wow, you are smooth aren't you?" Andie asked, and for the first time the fear was gone from her voice.
Conner spread one of the blankets in the patch of sunlight at her feet. "It's a date, Andie. You don't really think a canoe ride by itself could be considered a date, do you?" He reached out and gave one of the little golden cows hanging from her earlobes a gentle spin.
"I've had worse." Andie settled down on the blanket.
Conner took another of the blankets and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Are you warm enough?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, but what about you?" She pointed to the wet shoes on his feet.
"These are water shoes." He slid them off and placed them on a warm black rock in the light. "They'll dry in about two seconds. In the meantime, since it's fall..." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of thick socks. "See? I really do know what I'm doing."
And a soft, radiant laugh spilled out of her mouth. Finally. He sat down next to her on the blanket, close enough that their knees bumped together. She stiffened and he could all but see her fighting the urge to scoot away from him.
Conner sighed and pulled the picnic basket closer. "Andie, what happened to you?" He handed her one of the still-cold cans of Coke he'd packed, and then looked at her, waiting for her to answer, not willing to let her off the hook. "You're so cautious, so controlled. What are you so afraid of? I don't remember you being like that. Hell, remember your snowmobile? You never lost a race on that thing."
Andie pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped an arm around them, before taking a sip of her soda. "Life. Life happened to me. And I'm afraid of it happening again."
Conner shook his head as he handed her one of the sub sandwiches he'd put together that morning. "But you can't be afraid of life. Crap happens, that's for sure, but it shouldn't stop you from having fun. I get that you lost your parents and it was awful. I understand that, but it's been six years. The pain will never go away, but you should be enjoying your life by now."
"I do enjoy my life." Andie bit into her sandwich, avoiding his gaze. "And what about you? You're still holding your father's actions from over a decade ago against him. When are you going to let go?"
Conner scrunched his empty can in his hand, feeling the sharp metal edges bite into his fingers. "That's different."
"Not so much, not really." And now there was a sting to her voice.
Conner set his sandwich down and shifted closer. "Don't be mad, Andie. I don't want you to be mad. I don't want to be mad either. I don't want to think about my dad. I don't want to make you sad. I hate to see you like this, all shut down and locked away."
Andie looked at him, finally, her lips trembling before she pressed them into one hard line. "Maybe I have. Maybe you do what you have to do to get through, to hold it together."
Conner reached forward, brushed the hair back from her cheek and let his thumb graze the smooth, soft skin under her eye. "Maybe you do. But I wish I could help you, help you find the spontaneous, laughing girl I remember." He watched her, watched the shiver of pain skimming under the surface of her skin, the misery swimming in her eyes. He wanted so badly to fix things, to help her remember who she was once, to make her happy again that it was overwhelming. He brought his other hand up, until he was held her face between both palms, then slowly eased his mouth down over hers.
The kiss, her nearness, the sweet, cinnamon scent of her, curled through him, making the air around them seem warmer, more brilliant. He felt the pulse in her neck leaping under his fingers and his own sped in response. His breath caught somewhere behind his ribs and went no further, until the trees were spinning and swooping around them. In the end, Conner, who had climbed sheer rock cliffs, flew planes into remote wilderness areas, hell, even sky-dived, had to pull away, had to let his forehead rest against hers until the ground settled underneath him again.
"Wow," she said.
"No kidding." He forced his lips up into a smile, but it felt brittle. In fact, his whole body felt brittle, and he knew he was the one that was shaking in his boots now. Because that one kiss had changed everything.
Before it, he'd known that he was attracted to her, that it had grown until his whole body ached with want for her, on top of the feelings of friendship he'd had since they'd been kids. But now, now there was something else there, something as bright and golden as her hair threading through him, something so strong that he was scared as hell it was going to pull him under.
He knew he had a choice. He could shut whatever it was he was feeling down, cage it up and let it die away. Or he could move forward and see what it was, how deep it ran. If he chose the second option, to move forward, he knew that it would probably end with him getting shot to hell. He wasn't long term relationship material. He always screwed it up, couldn't quite seem to pull it off.
She would see it eventually, see what he was, who he really was. She would realize he wasn't stable enough, responsible, controlled enough to manage any relationship, especially not one with her, where everything had to be neat, and tidy, and safe all the time. And then, she would leave him. The leaving might very well crush him.
But Conner had never been afraid of pain. Looking at her, the curve of her cheek in the sunlight, the way her long, slim fingers kept tucking her hair behind her ear; he felt a constant, nagging pull, urging him closer, pushing him to haul her into his arms, cradle her against his heart.
So he did, promising himself he would taste her one more time, that it couldn't go any farther than that today, here underneath the canopy of trees, the river singing its song as it rolled past them.
With her lips moving beneath his, her breathy sighs feathering his face, he decided he'd deal with the pain, with her rejection when it came. That it was enough to have her with him now, enough to enjoy her for every minute he had. He'd be able to walk away when she asked him to; he'd never look back. And he ignored the little voice, whispering in the back of his head, that said a few hours, days, weeks, would never be enough.
***
The air had gone from chilly to down right cold by the time the canoe was secured in the back of the truck. A line of clouds, sharp as a knife blade, had crested the horizon, bringing with them punishing bursts of wind that thrashed at the trees above them. A shower of blood-red leaves skimmed down on top of them and Andie shivered.
Conner grinned at her over the hood of the truck and an intense ache sprang to life in Andie's stomach. She didn't linger over the feeling for long, but she knew it was a mix of longing, and want and something else, something sharper, harder, more serious.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
A soft growl of thunder vibrated through the ground under Andie's feet and she nodded. Conner came around the truck, opened the door for her, then lifted her in. When a squeak of protest slipped out of her mouth, his gaze slid to her lips and the smile slipped off Conner's face, replaced with a fierce mask of need. His mouth took hers again, a quick, hard, thunderbolt of longing. His arms crushed her against him, hard, and harder still until all Andie could do was hold on.
And then he was freeing himself, stalking around to the other side of the car, jamming the key in the ignition. But instead of turning it on, he slumped forward, shutting his eyes as he rested his head against the steering wheel.
Andie laid a hand on his back, felt him flinch under her touch. "Are you okay, Conner?"
He drew in a tattered breath, sat up and then nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Let's get you home." He leaned toward her and pulled the seatbelt across her chest, his hands brushing her breasts for a split second before he snapped the belt buckle in.
As they pulled out of the gravel boat landing, hard drops of rain plopped against the windshield. Conner reached over and curled her hand into his, apparently needing to touch her more than he needed both hands to steer through the storm. Andie squeezed back, until her fingers ached, but she didn't let go, not until they pulled into the driveway. Then, her hand dropped limply from his.
There was a police car in the driveway.
She tore out of the car, her feet scrambling on the asphalt before it had even stopped rolling under the tires. She heard the hard squeak of the brakes behind her, but she didn't stop. She jumped the porch steps and flung open the door.
"Shawn? Logan? Shawn!" She was screaming now; she heard it, knew it was her, knew that somewhere between the truck and the house her control had shattered.
Shawn burst out of the living room door and wrapped his arms around her. "We're fine. We're all fine. Everybody's fine." He repeated the words over and over.
Andie stared at his face, at the way his mouth shaped the words, until finally they registered. She pressed a hand to her lips, but a harsh, ragged breath tore past it, and then another. She crumpled to the floor, as the panic drained out of her. Shawn sank to the floor with her, holding her harder.
The door open behind her, and she knew it was Conner.
"What's wrong?" He bent down next to her, put a hand on her back to steady her, rubbed it slowly in circles.
"Logan thought it would be a good idea to throw some eggs at the Anderson house. He was stupid enough to get caught," Shawn said.
"I'm not stupid."
They all turned. Logan stood in the living room doorway. The cop stood next to him, his thumbs hooked through his belt loops, his feet planted against the floor, not making eye contact with the broken group of people on the floor.
Shawn stood, a swift arrow toward the ceiling, his gaze narrowing on the boy's face. "Really? You're going to stand there and tell me that this," he jerked a thumb at Andie, "is okay? That what you did today was a smart thing? 'Cause I'm not seeing it, buddy. Why don't you explain it to me?"
Logan stood there, his face as white as if Shawn had hit him.
Conner slowly got to his feet. "Shawn, why don't you take Andie into the kitchen and get her a cup of water? I can handle this."
"I'm fine," Andie said, managing to push the words out past the jagged edges of her throat, but even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true.
She needed to be there for Logan, for Shawn too, but she couldn't catch her breath, couldn't get the burn of pain and fear to even slow, let alone stop. There was something wrong with her, something broken inside of her. She had ignored it, thought she had everything under control, for years now, but she was wrong, so wrong.
"I'm fine," she said again, but even she could hear the total lack of conviction in her voice.
Conner squatted back down next to her, cupped his hands under her elbows and pulled her to her feet. "I know, baby. I know you are. You need a few minutes to get yourself together. I can handle this. I'll talk to the police and see what happened. We'll figure out what needs to be done to make it right. It might be easier if you let me do it. I'm not family, I get that, but that might be good for this situation. I've got a distance from all of this that helps me see what's happening more clearly."
Shawn wrapped an arm around Andie's waist, shifted her weight from Conner to himself. "You're probably right. Go ahead, then. I'll take care of her."
Andie wanted to shout that she could do it, that she was fine without anyone's help. But she couldn't. That cop car in the driveway was like a hammer brought down on a piece of ice, shattering her soul into shards. And everybody knew you can't stick broken ice back together.
She leaned on Shawn and hobbled to the kitchen. She let Shawn shove a glass of water in her hand, sipped at it slowly until she could pull the flow of fear and pain back into herself, not stopping it, no, never stopping it.
She realized now that all she'd ever been able to do was push it all into a hard little ball in her chest. It had been sitting there, somewhere in the dark recesses behind her heart, since the day her parents died. She had been fooling herself, assuming she was healing, when all she'd been doing was ignoring the massive collection of spider-web thin cracks that had snaked, insidiously, into every part of her.
Her empty, tearless, frozen sobs quieted. She could hear the soft murmur of voices, the tramp of feet up the stairs, then the front door opening and closing. Through it all, the rain continued to pat its cold fingers against the window next to the table. Shawn slumped into the chair next to her, a cup of untouched coffee cooling in front of him.
Conner moved into the room, leaned a hip against the doorjamb and studied her. "Are you feeling a little better now?"
Andie nodded, then let her head drift down, staring at the scarred surface of the table, too ashamed of herself, of her weakness, to meet his gaze.
She heard the fast stomp of his feet as he strode over to her, then knelt down at her side. "Don't do that, Andie. You look at me now. Do you hear me? You look at me."
"I shouldn't have fallen apart." Andie twisted her fingers together, locking them into a hard snarl. "I didn't handle that at all."
Conner laid his fingers on top of hers, still and calm. "So? You don't need to handle everything. Sometimes, you can let other people handle things for you."
"Not my family. That's for me and me alone."
Conner used the back of his fingers to lift her head. "Well, then, you need to get in a place where you can do that. You're not there now. You thought you were. It even seemed like you were, but you're not. You're going to have to find a way to get there."
His words were like hot needles against her skin and she jerked her head back, away from him. "I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. I'll be fine in a minute."
Conner watched her, his eyes steady on hers. "You can't keep fooling yourself, Andie. You aren't doing it on your own. You're going to need help to get past this."
Andie ripped her hands from his and jolted back from the table. "I'm fine. I said I was fine, I'm fine. Now, I'm going to go check on Logan. You two can do whatever you want to do."
She saw the way the two men looked at each other, some sort of silent communication about her, about the way she'd fallen to pieces. She couldn't find it in herself to care. Everything in her was numb, like she'd been in the snow so long that even her insides had frozen. She slipped out of the room and up the stairs, paused outside of Logan's door. All was silent inside, and she stood there, feeling the panic and overwhelming weight of responsibility settle back on her shoulders. And she did something she never thought she'd ever do. She didn't go in. She couldn't do it.
She loved her family, so much sometimes that it hurt. She'd spent six years doing nothing but caring for them, loving them, protecting them, providing for them. And now, when they needed her, she was worried she had nothing left to give.
There was still frost on the ground, a constant sparkling shimmer, when Andie pulled into the orchard. She shut off her brother's car and sat there a minute. The trees were heavy with shiny red fruit and everywhere Andie looked there were people, people on ladders picking, people carrying baskets overflowing with apples, people driving pickups loaded with crate after crate of the fruit. But in front of her, the house sat still and dark, something Andie couldn't ever remember seeing during harvest time.
Usually Diana was manning a table on the front porch stocked with apple cider, coffee, donuts and fruit, both for the workers and for any of the customers who were busily picking their own crate of apples, making their own fall harvest memories. Eventually, Diana would have someone else take over the table and would join the workers among the trees, picking until she couldn't lift her arms anymore. Andie knew because, most years, she'd been right there alongside of her.
Andie got out of her car and trudged up the steps to the door. She popped her head in. "Anyone here?"
Diana's mom, Susan, came around the corner from the kitchen, drying her hands on the apple-covered apron she wore. "Come on in, Andie. It's about time that girl got up."
"Oh, no. If she's sleeping I don't want to disturb her."
"Nonsense. That girl needs to be disturbed. She's has a lot to live for. She needs to remember that." Susan strode down the hallway, then knocked, good and loud, on Diana's door. There was a muffled response from inside. Susan shook her head and swung the door open. "You go on in. See if you can't knock some sense into my girl."
So Andie went in, even though putting her on "sense-knocking" duty seemed about the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard right at the moment.
The room was dark, the curtains still pulled. She could fix that, at least. She shoved the heavy fabric back, letting the morning light spill into the room and pool across the big bed. She could just see the dark wing of Diana's hair peeking out from under the thick, white comforter. Andie knew that she'd have to dig deep, find what was left of the stagnate, shallow well of giving somewhere inside of her.
Andie eased down onto the edge of the bed, not sure of how sore Diana still was. "How are you doing?"
Diana pushed the comforter away from her face and cracked one eye. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you think? We're still best friends, aren't we?"
"Yeah." Diana's voice was flat and dull.
A little, greasy worm of fear niggled its way through Andie's stomach. "Why don't you get up? We'll go have some doughnuts and cider."
Diana didn't answer, just pulled the comforter back over her face.
Andie jerked it away, anger ripping through her. If her friend, her oldest and best friend, thought she was just going to dry up and flake into ash under the weight of her comforter, she had another think coming. "I don't think so, Diana Lu! Do you think I'm just going to let you hide, let you wither away until you're gone? I've lost more people than anyone my age ever should. I'll be damned if you're going to be the next! Now you get up! Right now!" And she gave the comforter another good sharp pull as she stood, yanking it clean off the bed. "I've got enough to deal with, with Logan chucking eggs at the principle's house and Conner kissing me senseless every time I turn around! I don't have time for you to wallow in your dirty sheets just because the surgeon lopped off your breast!" She said the words with as much force and authority she could muster, ignoring the way her heart jiggled like jelly at the harsh words. And then she held her breath, waiting, watching the still form of her friend.
And then slowly, slowly, Diana pushed herself upright. "Conner kissed you?"
"A whole bunch of times. If you drag your sorry butt into the shower, pull on some clean clothes, and then come find me on the porch, I'll tell you all about it."
"Did he-"
"Nope. On the porch. Fifteen minutes. Let's go!"
Andie shoved out the door, down the hallway and into the cold fall air. She pulled her suede jacket tighter around herself, finally gave into the shaking of her knees, and slumped down on the top step so hard her teeth clicked together, completely and totally empty. She barely had the energy to wonder how she'd let herself get this way, let herself turn into this wasted husk of herself.
Her body had slipped forward onto her knees when she heard the rough rumble of a pickup truck come up the drive. She twisted her head, her cheek pressing against the coarse denim on her knee, watching with one eye as Conner parked next to her car.
He jumped out of the truck and strode over to her. His hand was on her back even before he had sat down next to her. "What's wrong?"
"I think Diana's depressed, or she gave up or something. Oh, Conner, I don't know what to do, how to save her!" And Andie sat up and leaned into him, desperately grateful that he was here with her.
Conner's arms came around her, one hand sneaking up to smooth the fluff of her curls. "You can't always save everybody, Andie."
Andie jerked back, her cold fingers balled into fists. "Are you saying I shouldn't try?" Because no matter how exhausted she was, how empty she was, she knew that wasn't an option.
"Hell, no! We're going to give it all we've got. That's what you do in life. You fight hard and fast and dirty and hope it's enough."
"Conner." Andie said his name and then the words gave out. She wanted to tell him that she was thankful that he was there, that she didn't have to be alone through this, with everything. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't remember who she was, that the strong steady core of her had gone missing sometime in the last six years. She wanted to tell him she was afraid, but she felt like there was a hard, unbreakable disk of cold metal lodged in her throat, so big that she couldn't get anything past it. So she did the only thing she could think of to do, the only thing that made sense to her, the only thing she though might leach a little warmth back into the cold emptiness of her soul. She leaned forward and kissed him.
His lips were warm and firm against hers and she could feel his breath whoosh out of him in one harsh gasp. His arms came around her, crushing her hard against him, like he'd never be close enough to her and the feeling gave her a sharp, secret thrill. She opened her mouth slightly, tasting him, breathing in the clean smell of fresh air he always seemed to wear like cologne. He moaned softly and she tried to wiggle even closer. This was what she needed; exactly this. She needed to remember who she was. She needed to be a woman and not just a caregiver, a provider.
"Well," said a voice from behind them, "I didn't know that if I got up I'd get to see a free show. Maybe dragging myself out of bed was worth it after all."
Andie would have jumped back, but Conner's arms stayed around her, strong as steel bands.
He leaned back slightly, winking his dimple at Diana. "Good morning to you too."
Diana leaned against one of the plain white columns that wrapped the porch. "Should I go back inside? Do you two need a minute?" And she smiled. It was small and shaky but it was a smile.
Andie snorted. "No." She pushed at Conner until he let her go, even if it was the last thing in the world she wanted at that moment. His arms slid slowly away like he would have held on forever if he could.
"Sit down." Andie patted the step next to her.
"Well, I will, but only because I'm exhausted. Otherwise I'd go back in so you guys could be alone." And she plopped down on the step without any of her usual grace.
Conner jumped to his feet. "Hang on, ladies." He jogged the few steps to his truck, rummaged in the cab for a minute, then held up a cardboard tray of takeout coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag dotted with grease in the other. Even from porch, Andie could smell cinnamon and apples.
"You stopped at the Priestley's orchard!" Diana said, her face crumpling into a frown.
"Only because I heard you guys didn't have your doughnut stand up. You know I think yours are the best, but you can't have an apple harvest without an apple doughnut, even if they are sub par." And he winked at her as he handed out the cups of coffee.
Andie felt her eyes narrow as she realized there were three of them. "How did you know I was here?"
Conner bit into his doughnut. "That coffee was supposed to be Susan's."
Andie took a sip. Cream and sugar. Just the way she liked it. "Try again. Susan doesn't drink coffee."
"All right, all right, fine. What are you, a detective? I might have talked to Shawn this morning and he might have said you were coming out here."
"And what, you thought I needed a baby sitter? Or some big, tough guy to help the little lady through a hard time?" Andie felt a sudden surge of anger quicken her pulse and tried to tamp it down. She knew it wasn't fair, that she was angry mostly with herself for losing it the other day, that it wasn't unreasonable for her brother, or even Conner to want to check up on her after that display. But she didn't want to be the helpless victim. Hadn't she gotten this family through the last few years almost completely on her own? She'd been the one to provide a stable environment for Logan while Shawn finished school and took the risk of starting a clinic. Hadn't she done all her schoolwork at night and on the weekends, just so Logan would have someone always there, a stable base to return too? She'd held it together from the very minute she'd heard her parents were gone. She'd been the rock, the safe harbor. She didn't want to give that up, no, that wasn't right. She couldn't give it up. It was all she had left. She'd lost herself in her role as a mother figure. If that was taken away from her too, what was left? Would her body simply collapse in on itself in a shower of dust and ice, before blowing away in the wind?
Conner handed her a doughnut. "Here. Eat this and calm down. I'm not here to babysit or take care of anyone. I wanted to see you and I wanted to see how Diana was doing. That's all. No ulterior motives."
"Awww," Diana said. "You can't argue with that. Here, you traitor, give me one of those doughnuts. Let's see how good they are." She picked one from the bag and bit into it. "Not bad, but not as good as my mom's."
"Darn right, they're not." Susan stood in the open door behind them, three flowered, frilly aprons clutched in her hands. "Are we really going to let the Priestlys win the doughnut wars? Why don't you all get in here and help me put them to shame."
Conner leaped up the stairs and took the pinkest, ruffliest apron and tied it around his waist. "I'm game."
Andie felt her lips quirk up as he slid the apron over his rock hard chest. A little spiral of warmth curled its way into her empty ribs. "All right, me too." And she took a green, frilly apron sprinkled with frogs and slipped it on. "I can be a few hours late to the shop. It's the doughnut wars that matter right now." And she turned to look at her friend, bundled up in her oversized sweatshirt, her arms wrapped around herself. "What do you say, Diana? You aren't going to make us do this alone, are you?"
Diana stood slowly, not quite straightening up all the way, protecting the gash over her heart. Andie wanted desperately to put her arms around her friend, to hold on tight, but she knew Diana wouldn't appreciate that. "I suppose I can do that. I've always fought in the Doughnut Wars. I guess I can't surrender now." And she pulled on the apron that had apples embroidered across the front, apples that Andie knew Susan had stitched one at a time during a long, cold winter evening. They spilled, a bright red shield of love, across Diana's chest.
Susan smiled, a wide grin that stretched across her face. "Luke," she called down to one of the workers loading a pickup truck with crates of apples. "Can you set up the tables on the porch here? And put the doughnut signs up down on the road? We'll be open for business in about forty-five minutes!"
Luke threw her a mock solute, but even from across the yard, Andie could see the relief etched on his face when he looked at Diana. Sometimes Andie forget the wide support system Diana and her family had. That they all had, living in Port Haven.
Susan drew a red hair elastic off her wrist and pulled the shiny black swing of her hair into a sleek ponytail. Andie had a moment of jealously, the same one she'd had since she was a child, envying their beautiful, dark spill of hair, in such contrast to the messy, wild fluff of her curls. But she'd learned long ago, she was who she was, that there was no point in wishing she was different. She'd learned that when you tried to change the fundamental core of something, you always ended up with trouble. Or in Andie's case, hair that somehow had turned orange and brittle during a straightening treatment. And then, to her horror, it had started to snap, like fragile twigs, right off her head.
The kitchen was warm and steamy, and in almost no time at all they'd managed to whip up a huge amount of Susan's secret, apple doughnut dough. The smell of heated oil mixed with the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and of course, the crisp, sweet aroma of the orchard's apples.
"Susan?" Luke stood in the doorway, his ball cap in his hand. "The tables are all set. Would you like me to put up the big coffee percolators?"
"I sure would, but here, can you spread out these tablecloths first? Spruce it up a little?" And she handed him a stack of apple red cloths.
"Sure thing." He left the room.
Andie turned to Diana, letting one eyebrow drift up. Only a blind person would have missed the look Luke had thrown to Susan. Unless Andie was very much mistaken, Luke was in love with Diana's mom.
Diana gave her a slight nod of the head and Andie felt a smile stretch across her lips. Luke was older, but still fit and handsome. She watched Susan move across the room, lithe and graceful and well into her fifties. But of course there was no way to know if Susan returned his feelings and she couldn't just ask Diana in front of her.
It only took moments for them to roll and cut the dough, and soon the flat, doughnut shaped pieces were sizzling in the oil. The delectable scent intensified until Andie thought she might swoon with it. Her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled. It was all she could do to keep from snatching one out of the hot oil with her bare fingers.
Susan scooped the first batch out, let them sit on some paper towels for a few minutes while she put the new batch in, then slid the semi-cooled doughnuts into a huge sack filled with cinnamon sugar. A few good shakes and they were all done.
"Okay, everyone, pick one!"
Andie reached into the sack and pulled out the biggest one she could find. It was still steaming hot and she had to pass it from hand to hand to cool it enough so she could bite into it.
The sweet, apple-cinnamon flavor exploded onto her tongue. It was easily one of the best things she'd ever tasted. She shut her eyes, shut out everything but the flavor on her tongue, the scent swirling around her, and for that moment, she was in heaven.
With her eyes closed, she felt him, felt the heat from his body as he moved into place at her side. His hand slide past her lower back to wrap around her waist, snuggling her tight against his body. Andie peeked over her shoulder at Diana and Susan to find them winking at each other. When she looked back at Conner, his dimple flashed and then he gave her a wink too, right before he leaned down and placed a kiss on her hair.
Well, she guessed he must want them to be an official couple now. Not that he'd ever had a problem with it; it had been her that wanted to keep things quiet, to not let the whole town know. After all, he was leaving soon. Despite their flirting and kisses, she couldn't fool herself about that. They'd continued to work on the building, along with a small army of volunteers, and it was almost done. In fact, she expected that he'd officially list it with the real-estate company sometime this week.
But his arm was around her now, snug and strong. He was with her now. And when she was with him, somehow, it was easier to remember a little bit of who she had once been, of the woman she'd lost. Maybe, if she did this for herself, if she gave herself this pleasure, if she took this moment with him, it might help her get back a little bit of the soul she'd lost.
She looked up at the gray-green of his eyes, then leaned forward and touched her lips to his, whisper soft. His eyes widened for a second, and he laughed before tugging her against him. His arms held her tightly as he spun and spun, swinging her in a circle, her feet skimming the floor, her whole world shaking around her, until she was dizzy with it.
"Okay, okay," Diana said. "Why don't you two lovebirds get out of here? You're making me sick." But she gave Andie's arm a gentle squeeze as she passed by, on the way to get more sugar.
"Don't you want us to help at the doughnut stand?" Andie asked. She wanted to be with Conner, wanted to feel his arms around her, his lips against hers. She wanted to not think, to only feel, for a little while. But she couldn't abandon her hurting friend either.
Susan shook her head. "No. We'll be fine. I'll get Luke to spell us if we need a break. You two skedaddle."
Diana walked over to Andie, put her arms around her and hugged as hard as she could. Andie felt a little wince of pain run through her friend, one that Diana ignored. "Thanks, Andie. For caring."
Andie snorted. "Like I'd do anything else."
"I know." Diana pulled away, cradling her left arm slightly to avoid pulling on her stitches. "I start chemo in a few days, I was wondering if you-"
"I'll be there. Every minute."
Relief washed across Diana's face, making Andie's heart ache and her throat sting. She ruthlessly pushed it away. No way she was going to let her friend see her worry, or her fear. Diana had more than enough of that already.
"Thanks, Andie. Now get going. Go have some fun!" And Diana threw her a cheeky wink.
Andie felt her cheeks flush, but darned if that wasn't exactly what she as thinking too. "All right, all right. I'm going."
"Hey!" A voice yelled from the porch. "Why aren't there any doughnuts out here? You can't seriously expect me to put in a full day of work at the vet clinic without at least five doughnuts to start my day!"
Shawn.
Andie and Diana looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
"Dude!" Conner yelled. "Hang on! A guy can only cook 'em so fast."
Shawn stepped into the kitchen, taking in the flurry of ruffled aprons all around him. Andie saw his eyes go immediately to Diana, do a fast scan, then lighten into good humor, and she realized that he cared more for Diana than she had expected.
Shawn stopped in front of Conner. "Excuse me, miss? I think you have some flour on your cheek."
"Ha, ha, very funny." Conner whipped off the apron and threw it at Shawn. "Let's see if you laugh now. I'm out of here and you're on doughnut duty." And he grinned at the befuddlement that spilled across Shawn's face as he clutched the frilly apron to his chest.
Conner grabbed Andie's hand and tugged her out of the house. She barely had time to throw a wave over her shoulder before they were racing down the steps. Conner lifted her into the truck, then sprinted around to the driver's side.
He slid into his seat and tossed her a huge grin. "Do you have to be at work right away? Because I have something to show you."
"No. I'm already late opening. I can give it a few more minutes." His smile was infectious, like a little boy's on Christmas morning, and she found herself grinning right back at him.
"Great." And he roared down the drive. He left one hand on the wheel for steering, but he reached for her with the other, wrapping his fingers around hers. He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed it softly, then let their entwined hands rest on his leg.
Andie did the best she could to ignore the sudden jolt to her heart and focused instead on the flash of fall leaves streaming past her window. Brilliant reds, fiery oranges and sunshine yellows shone against the deep blue sky. Every year, Andie thought the colors were the most beautiful that she'd ever seen, and this year was no exception.
It only took a few minutes for them to zip through town, and then they were parking in the alley behind their building.
Andie let her eyebrows drift upward. "This is what you wanted me to see? The building I've come to six days a week for the last six years?"
Conner snorted. "C'mon." And he slid from the truck.
Andie was out her door, the heels of her brown leather boots clicking against the pavement, before he even made it past the hood.
"I was coming to get you."
"I've been taking care of myself, my little brother and my big brother for the past six years too. I think I can handle getting out of your truck." She slammed the door and pulled down the deep blue, knit top she wore.
Conner tucked his hands behind her, against the truck, caging her in. "I know, but getting you out is the fun part." He leaned forward and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead, he took a deep breath, then wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her up to the building.
"Okay. Shut your eyes," he said.
She squeezed them shut, resisting the urge to peek, as she heard the padlock click open and he led her into the building. She heard the light switch click on.
"Okay. Look."
They were in one of the offices and it was beautiful. The woodwork and floors gleamed a deep chestnut brown. A fresh coat of cream-colored paint brightened the whole place, and everywhere there were windows framing the deep blue sparkle of the lake.
"Oh, Conner. It's wonderful." On the shorter wall, Conner had hung some of the paintings they'd found as they cleaned. Andie walked over to it, studied one of them. A little girl in a white dress held her father's hand as they stood on the end of a pier, watching sailboats slip by. And suddenly, loss burned at Andie's throat, reminding her that no matter how long it had been since her parents had passed, she would never get over it.
Conner slid his hand into hers. "I thought it might help the building sell faster. I hung most of the paintings we found. Come on. There are more things I want to show you. I never thought of myself as being a handy guy, but actually it was kind of fun. I wouldn't mind doing it again sometime."
He led her from room to room, pointing out each detail, each little touch that he or one of the crew of volunteers had created. In one room, a lovingly restored chandelier hung, its crystal drops suspended from curves of gleaming brass like drops of ice. Another room held a large fireplace, its frame of blue and white hand painted tile cleaned and polished until it shone. Every door had had its vintage hardware buffed by hand until it sparkled. The building hadn't been repaired; it had been restored to its former glory.
Finally, they where in the last room, the room with the floor to ceiling mural. The colors glowed brilliantly at one end of the room, while the golden light of fall streamed in the bank of windows from the other end.
"It's truly beautiful," Andie said. "You did an exquisite job." The building was done; and they were one step closer to finding a buyer for it, one step closer to Conner leaving for Montana. An unexpected sadness pinched its cold fingers around her heart.
She was being ridiculous; she'd known all along that he was leaving, that it was foolish to get attached. But darned if she hadn't decided somewhere along the line that she wanted something with him, even if it was a momentary pleasure.
She turned her back to him, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Andie?" Conner asked, his voice suddenly uncertain. "I thought you'd be happy."
"I am. It's wonderful."
Conner stepped into place behind her, wrapping his arms around her and snugging her back against his chest. "You don't sound happy."
"Well, I am." But the misery in her voice shivered off the wall in front of her, bouncing back against her face.
"Hey," Conner said, turning her so that he could see her face. "Everything's going to be okay. I'm sure we'll find a buyer now."
He thought she was upset about whether she'd lose her shop or not. Andie laughed, a sharp, bitter noise. That probably was what she should be worried about right now, but the thought hadn't even crossed her mind; how could she be worried about that when she was terrified that she lost something else, something more?
She tipped her head up to him. "Kiss me."
His eyes went from being soft with concern to hot with hunger instantly. His hands pulled her closer, tighter, until they were pressed together, chest to chest, and then his mouth was on hers. It was hot, and fast, and if there was tenderness there, it was buried beneath their raw desire. His tongue swept her lips and she opened her mouth, letting him in. His taste, of apple and cinnamon and Conner, flooded through her as her heart beat fast and then faster, until she felt like she'd never catch her breath. Conner groaned, a dark sound of need, and then his hands swept down her back, cupping her bottom, pressing her against himself.
A wild swing of emotion poured through Andie. Even as she deepened the kiss, she knew this was the wrong thing to do, that it would only strengthen her attachment to him, to a man she knew would walk out the door soon. One dark, urgent thought poured through her; she didn't care. To heck with what happened after, for now, all she wanted was to feel. When she was with Conner, all those dead and icy nerves came to life. This was Conner, and it felt like she'd wanted him, needed him forever. And she was darn well going to take what she could get now. There was no tomorrow for them.
So she slipped her hands under his shirt, let her fingers skim over the heated surface of his back, up his sides, then to the soft hair covering his chest, then down the hard ridges of his stomach. A soft sound slipped past her lips, even as she tried to keep it in. He was so beautiful, so hard, so sexy. She wanted him desperately, and even as she wanted, she knew that he would never be hers. Her whole body was trembling with her need, until she thought her knees might turn to mashed potatoes and dump her on her butt. She swayed slightly and held on tighter.
His mouth never left hers as he walked her several steps, bracing her back against the wall, so that her knees were no longer responsible for holding all of her. She ran her lips along the rough line of Conner's jaw and felt a dark surge of satisfaction flow through her when he trembled. His mouth left hers to make a scorchingly hot path along her cheek and down her neck, stopping at her collarbone, as his hand slipped under her sweater.
And then his hand left her, and she cried out at the loss of it, as the cold air replaced the heat of his skin. But it was only momentary, as his palm squeezed her hip before sliding down along the length of her silky trousers, until he was grasping her above her knee. He pulled, wrapping her leg around his hip, Andie thought she might die from the pleasure of it.
And even as she thought that, even as some primal instinct had her pressing against him, she knew that it had gone too far, that it had to stop. She couldn't give herself to him, not like this, not here, in an empty, echoing courtroom, filled with nothing but dust motes and the ghosts of the past. So she had to stop it. And she would. After one more kiss.