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She’d come to Eden Harbor, where her mother had grown up, looking for anyone who might know about her mother’s past. She was very interested in whom her mother had dated growing up in Eden Harbor, whom she’d been friends with. She hadn’t been able to learn very much about her mother, only that her parents had both passed away. Eden Harbor was her only lead in finding who might have been her birth father. She’d first met Bill Cassidy when he’d found her searching her mother’s graduation class photo at the local high school. Bill Cassidy had walked up to her wanting to know if he could help her. When she asked about Ellen Donnelly, he was curt with her. Feeling intimidated by his presence, she left when the opportunity arose, hoping to learn more about her mother some other way. “He’s the coach at the high school. He coaches the volleyball team I play on each Wednesday night.” She had no intention of telling Ned about her earlier encounter with Mr. Cassidy. “Why do you ask?”
“Is that all?”
“What do you mean?”
“My sister is Lisa Sherwood. You know her?”
“Yeah, she’s on the team. You know that. I mentioned it to you the first time I went to the practice.”
Ned rubbed his chin and scuffed his feet on the dirt of the driveway. “Some of the team feels that you and Bill are a little too chummy.”
She’d hardly describe their relationship as chummy. “What are you trying to say?” she asked, angry and hurt that people would talk about her that way. She was always very careful to be friendly but not overly so, especially with men, for this reason.
“He’s a man twice your age. That’s all. You don’t want people talking that way about you, do you?”
She clenched her fists and searched for a calmness she didn’t feel. “What if I didn’t care what people talked about?”
“Are you saying there’s something going on between the two of you?” Ned’s expression was one of fascination.
Peggy would like to tell her nosy neighbor to get lost. But she didn’t need any gossip going around about her, and even worse, Bill probably had a wife who wouldn’t be happy to have baseless rumors circulating about her husband. Most of all, Peggy didn’t want Bill Cassidy to hear gossip connecting him to her. He was the school sports coach. “I told you. He’s only my volleyball coach. He almost certainly has a wife. For the record, there is no relationship between Mr. Cassidy and me, other than the obvious one.”
“Bill Cassidy doesn’t have a wife. He doesn’t have a girlfriend that anyone knows about.” Ned continued to watch her in that odd way of his. “I wouldn’t have asked about him, only he was over at your house one day,” he said quietly. “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. Just trying to look out for you, that’s all.”
Bill Cassidy had been visiting her neighbor farther down the road past her house, spotted her in her paddock with Zeus and had stopped by. Nothing more to it. “He came to see my horses once. He’s a great coach. That’s all. He’s kind to everyone, including me.” He’d been very nice. Very interested in where she had gotten the horses and how she had chosen each of them.
“I’ve known Bill Cassidy all his life, and he’s never been interested in horses.”
“People change,” she said. Thinking about it now, it did seem very peculiar.
“If you say so,” he mumbled, looking just a little embarrassed.
Ned had been a good neighbor in the two years she’d been here. But his sister was in a whole other league when it came to minding other people’s business. If she were a betting woman, she’d bet that Lisa had pressed Ned to ask questions about her relationship with Bill Cassidy.
Ned headed off along the road, disappearing into his house a few minutes later. Peggy breathed a sigh of relief. She shouldn’t have gotten angry with Ned. Although he was nosy, he had been helpful and kind to her over the years. When she moved in, he’d helped her fix the fencing, clean out the stalls. When she told him she’d pay him, he refused, saying that he was happy to have someone living on the road.
This was the first time he’d behaved so strangely. Maybe he was genuinely concerned about her reputation. She went into the house and turned on the TV for company as she organized her dinner before heading out to feed the horses. She loved the routine of her day, especially looking after her horses. Sherri Brandon, one of Peggy’s other friends at work, had stopped her today to ask about giving her stepdaughter, Morgan Brandon, riding lessons. She was looking forward to the opportunity, wondering at the same time what day of the week she should offer Sherri.
She had a volleyball game this evening and was looking forward to it. She loved the game, something she had shared with her mother, Ellen. When she was a teenager, she and her mother used to practice around a net her father had put up in the backyard of the Craftsman house they lived in during her father’s time in Canada. Her favorite place of all the places they’d lived.
When she got to the gym, everyone was there, ready to play. The game was fast and exciting, during which she scored four times, a record for her. Coach Cassidy had been generous with his praise, reminding her of Ned’s inappropriate comments.
She was determined not to let Ned and his dreadful sister influence how she behaved around the coach and agreed to join the team for a drink to celebrate the win. She showered and dressed, ready for a fun evening.
She hadn’t thought of the sore spot on her right breast since she’d been out on the court, and she didn’t plan to think about it now. Tomorrow would be time enough. She had a routine physical in the morning, and she’d talk to Dr. Brandon about it then. She’d looked on the internet, and what she had near her underarm didn’t look like any of the pictures she saw, some of them really awful.
Once at the pub, they pulled a couple of tables together.
“That was a great game,” Tina Sullivan, a nurse from the hospital, said as she settled in next to Peggy.
“It was. And we have our coach to thank for most of it,” Peggy said, feeling generous toward the man who had been pretty tough on all of them these past months. “To you,” she said, holding up her beer to the man sitting across the table from her.
“Hey! This isn’t about me. It’s about you ladies. You deserved to win tonight.” He raised his beer and clicked her bottle. “To all of you.” But he seemed to be saying the words to her. Or was it her imagination? Had Ned’s insinuations changed how she saw her coach? She hoped not. She’d learned more about playing volleyball since joining this team a year ago than she’d ever learned during all her high school years.
She sipped her beer, acutely aware that Coach Cassidy was watching her. Did any of her teammates notice? Or had this extra attention always been there, and she was the last to see it? She’d always played as hard as any of her team members because of his good coaching and because she loved the game. And of course, the coach had spent hours encouraging, teaching and sometimes cajoling them to try harder, to do better. It was only natural that he’d be paying attention to each of them.
Yet she couldn’t completely block out Ned’s words, and it made her feel sad and angry at the same time. She didn’t know much about Bill Cassidy aside from the fact that he was the coach at the high school and the kids he coached all seemed to like him. The only negative thing she’d ever heard about him was from Gayle. It seemed that her son, Adam, hadn’t made the basketball team, and Gayle believed he should have. Gayle was very proud of her son and believed in him. It only made sense that she would want Adam to succeed in whatever he did. Lots of kids don’t make teams, so it was hardly a negative where the coach was concerned.
One thing was certain: neither she nor Coach Cassidy deserved to be gossiped about in the way Lisa Sherwood had done to her brother. She glanced across the table to see Lisa staring at her. She gave the woman a determined smile. It wasn’t fair to her or Bill Cassidy, this feeling that somehow there was something going on between them.
Yet each time she looked in the coach’s direction, he was glancing her way. She was beginning to feel vaguely creeped out. Whatever was going on, she didn’t need any more trouble. Disheartened, she decided to leave when her beer was finished. As she got up, so did Coach Cassidy, and he followed her toward the door.
“I need to talk to you when you have a minute,” he said, over the din of the bar.
“Can it wait?” she asked without stopping. When he didn’t answer, she turned around to face him.
He rubbed his face, looked her up and down. “Something... I need to discuss something with you,” he said, his voice low and anxious.
What could be so wrong that he would suddenly get upset about? Coach Cassidy was always cool and in control. Whatever it was, she couldn’t handle it right now. Not until she knew what the funny mark on her breast was. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“See you next Wednesday,” he called to her as she strode purposefully toward the door leading to the parking lot.
She didn’t know if she’d be at the practice next week or not. She didn’t need anyone talking the way Ned had earlier. She didn’t need any more stuff to worry about. She had enough on her mind.
CHAPTER THREE
DR. BRANDON FOCUSED on her right breast, the spot Peggy described. He did a physical exam, probing the area. It didn’t hurt anymore, which was a huge relief. Maybe the spot had hurt because she’d been wearing a new push-up bra. She was really embarrassed that she had to show him her breast. Yeah, she knew it was a physical exam that was very important, and Dr. Brandon was very professional, yet she still felt kind of strange...
“When did you last have a mammogram?”
She glanced quickly at him. “I can’t remember.”
He went to the computer and tapped a few keys. “Not since you moved here, correct?”
She tried to match his professional tone, afraid that he would say something to her about not having the test done all these years. “Correct.”
She’d thought the spot on the right side of her breast was a pimple. In fact, she had been certain. Did he think she had something else?
“I want you to go this afternoon to the X-ray department and have a mammogram done. I’ll be in touch with you as soon as I see the results of the test.”
“I don’t understand. It’s just a pimple, isn’t it?”
“Probably, but let’s be sure.”
She didn’t hear another word he said after that. He did her pap test and finished the rest of the physical examination. All the while she had only one thought on her mind. Her mother had had breast cancer years ago. As her daughter, she’d been advised to have regular mammograms but had ignored the advice. Had it been in defiance of her mother’s harping about it? Or had it simply been that she didn’t believe it could happen to her?
When the doctor finished the exam, he left her with a requisition for a mammogram and one for routine blood work. She put her clothes on, not touching her right breast that suddenly seemed to feel bigger, even painful. This couldn’t be happening. She had a good life here in Eden Harbor.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. Go get the mammogram done.
She got to the hospital and, in response to the sympathetic look from the technician, she said it was simply part of her physical. She winced when the machine compressed the tissue on the right side. She cried when she finally got home to her house.
Drying her tears, she went for a long ride on Zeus. The horse seemed to sense that she was fearful because normally he was very high-spirited. Today he was gentle and calm, giving her one of the best rides of her life. Once again she was thankful for her horses, especially Zeus.
She returned to her house in time to hear the phone ringing. Caller ID displayed Rory MacPherson’s name. When she answered, his cheerful voice was so far removed from her thoughts that at first she didn’t respond to his friendly inquiry about going for coffee.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m fine,” she said, her thoughts on her doctor’s appointment.
“You don’t sound fine. Look, I’m taking my bill to Ned Tompkins for payment. I’m on my way there now. Mind if I stop by? I want to ask a favor of you.”
She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to see anyone. Yet the plea in his voice, the mystery of what the favor was gave her something to think about other than her doctor’s serious tones when he asked her questions during her exam. “Okay. Drop by, but only for a few minutes. I’ve work to do.”
She went to the yard when he pulled into the driveway. Somehow she didn’t want him inside her home, not when she had so much to think about. Besides, he’d be here for only a few minutes.
He smiled as he got out of his truck. “So nice to know you’re waiting for me. Thank you for a great evening. We haven’t had a chance to talk since then, but I wanted you to know how I felt.”
“I enjoyed it, too.” She couldn’t help but notice the way his cotton shirt hugged his body. His gorgeous body. The heat of her cheeks made her look away from his intense gaze. “So, what was the favor you needed?”
He tucked his cell phone into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He moved close to her. “I’ve purchased two tickets to the annual fund-raiser for the fire station. It’s a dinner and dance. Would you go with me?”
She glanced at the sheet of paper he’d handed her, reading the details hurriedly. “Next week?”
“Yeah. I know it’s short notice.” He offered a disarming smile.
She’d never gone to the fund-raiser. She hadn’t danced in years, other than in front of her mirrored closet doors. Yet she didn’t feel like going and socializing when she was so worried about the results of her mammogram. If circumstances were different... She glanced at him to see that his eyes were on her, waiting for her response. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t go.”
His smile faded. He looked away then back at her, revealing a look of surprise. Had he never been turned down before? He squinted at her. “Can I ask why not?”
Why was he looking so...so forlorn? She wasn’t the only available woman in Eden Harbor. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company. I do.”
“I enjoy your company, or I wouldn’t have asked you. What’s the problem?”
Most men she’d ever refused to date had always been either surly or at least disappointed. But Rory stood there, smelling of freshly washed shirts and spicy cologne. His hopeful expression made her want to change her mind, go with him and have a fun evening. “Please try to understand I’m really not—”
“If you don’t like me and don’t want to go with me, just say so.” He sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so annoyed,” he said, his eyes dark.
She felt awful. First, she really wanted to go, but how could she manage to stay upbeat and in the party mood knowing that there might be a cancer growing inside her? “What if I’m not very good company?”
His eyebrows clamped together. “What’s worrying you? Is it something I did?” he asked.
“No. Not at all. I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
“Whatever is worrying you is not my business, unless you want to tell me.” Taking her shoulders gently in his powerful hands, he gazed down into her eyes. “I’m a good listener, if you need to talk. Or if not, it’s still okay. But look at it this way. If you decided to go, you’d get to stumble around the dance floor with me.”
“Stumble? I doubt that very much. I’ll bet you’re a good dancer.”
“Then why don’t you go with me and find out?”
Would an evening out hurt her? It might even make her feel less anxious. Even better, it could turn out to be enjoyable. Their dinner date had turned out better than she’d expected. If she didn’t go, she’d spend the evening trying to keep her worry at bay by watching reruns of some made-for-TV thriller series. “When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”
“Great! I’ll talk to you later about going to the fund-raiser.” He turned to go, stopped and turned back to face her. “And by the way, I had a really great time having dinner with you.”
“Me, too.” She watched him pull down her driveway, feeling so much better than when he arrived. Maybe the dating tide was turning in her favor. She smiled and headed to the horse barn.
* * *
THE NEXT AFTERNOON Rory had finished presenting his estimate to a new client earlier than expected. Realizing that he was only minutes from Peggy’s house, he decided he wanted to see her. Turning off the highway and heading down her road, he realized he didn’t have a clue why he was doing this.
He supposed what he really wanted was to see if she’d talk to him about what was bothering her. There was definitely something going on, and he was pretty sure it had happened after they’d been out to dinner. People would probably think he was nosy, but... He had to know what had made her look so sad and worried.
When he reached her house, he was pleased to see her out in the paddock hammering something on one of the posts. He jumped out of his truck and strode toward her. “I was just in the neighborhood.”
She turned her face up to him, a smile in her eyes as he approached. “Cut it out. You were not.”
In all his life he had never seen a woman who could make jeans and a gray-checked shirt look so sexy. Yet she seemed totally unaware of her effect on him. “So, what are you doing here? This is a dead-end street, so you’re not on your way somewhere. Did you just suddenly decide to pay a visit?”
“I came to see if I could help you.” He glanced past her at the work she was doing on the posts. “And this is right up my alley, if you need me.”
She cocked her hands on her hips. “Unsolicited repairs are free?”
“I’ll put it under ‘helping a friend.’”
She glanced from the fence rail to him. “If you insist.”
“Let’s have a look,” he said, moving closer to the fence post where she’d been working. He could see right away that the post had rotted out just above the ground, making it a wasted effort to try to reattach the fence boards. “Have you got any more of these posts?”
“Yes, I believe there are some out behind the barn. I’ll show you.”
She started to walk ahead of him, offering him a view of her behind and the way her jeans fit that made his blood run hot. “Spectacular,” he said under his breath.
“I’m sorry. What?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Nothing. I mutter when I walk,” he said, trying for humor when all he wanted to do was cup her bottom in his hands.
“Can’t imagine what sort of noise you’d make if you had to run. Yell, maybe?” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder. “Here they are.” She pointed to the pile of wooden posts against the back wall of the barn.
“Perfect.” He picked one up and started toward the paddock. “I’ll get my tools out of the truck. I’ll need a shovel if you’ve got one.”
“Coming right up.”
She was waiting for him with a large shovel and a hoe when he got what he needed from his tool locker. It was damned difficult to concentrate on fixing her fence with her standing there. Yet he managed it somehow, finishing everything up and putting things back.
He was about to head for his truck when two horses came galloping toward him, moving faster the closer they got. “Whoa!” he yelled and jumped back.
“They won’t hurt you,” she said, laughing as the two horses plowed to a stop in front of her and nudged her hands. “They’re looking for treats. I’ve got some in my pocket.”
He could have sworn there wasn’t room to put anything inside those jeans other than her body, but sure enough she pulled two carrot chunks out of the left-hand pocket and fed them to the horses. “Have you always liked horses?” he asked, waiting for his pulse to stop playing hopscotch around his chest.
“I used to ride when I was a kid. My dad would often ride with me. I’ve always loved horses.”
“Bunnies or small dogs are more my style...Don’t have either at the moment. Not allowed in the apartment building where I live.”
“Will you get a pet when you buy a house?”
“Don’t know if I’m buying a house.”
She gave him an assessing glance. “Does that mean you’re not staying here?”
“Not sure.”
He realized once the words were out of his mouth that she wasn’t pleased. She seemed to pull back. Her eyes searched the horizon. Silence stretched between them like an elastic band being pulled to the breaking point.
Finally she spoke. “How did you decide to come here? I mean, there must have been job opportunities in Bangor.”
“I came home. Sold my mom’s house and came here.” He shrugged. “Simple as that.”
“Isn’t that a little impulsive?”
He shook his head. “It’s just the way I am. I decided to go to Haiti in a matter of days.”
“Aren’t you afraid that an impulsive decision could lead to problems once you’ve had time to consider what you’ve done?”
“No. I don’t. I’ve always gone with my gut. For me, the right choice is the one I make the first time around. If I overthink a situation, I begin to doubt myself and end up making the wrong decision.”
“You mean you always make the easiest choice?”
This lady, this woman he’d become so infatuated with, didn’t believe in being even the slightest bit reckless or impulsive. “Depends on how you look at it.”
“And how do you look at it?” she said, her tone casual but the emotion behind it clear. She didn’t approve.
“Something meant to be...like when we met.”
She gave him a wry smile. “That wasn’t meant to be. That was Dr. Brandon’s order.”
“Depends on how you look at it,” he repeated.
“It was no accident that Dr. Brandon ordered blood work.”
“But you have to admit that it was an accident that brought me in to see the doctor.”
“Okay. We can agree on that much at least.” She walked beside him to his truck, turning to face him with her hands tucked into the pockets of those tight jeans of hers that made his pulse do seriously strange things. “You’ve been very kind. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“No man has been that kind to me, except my father. I loved him very much.” She rubbed her palms on the sides of her jeans, squinting up at the sky.
He stopped, surprised by her remark. This woman’s experience with men couldn’t have been all that great if fixing her fence had been such a big deal to her. “Your dad must have been pretty special. My father was the best. I miss him all the time. Mom, too, but it’s different with Dad.”
“My mother’s still alive, so I don’t know about that.”
He couldn’t keep his mind from running over the possible reasons why a woman as beautiful as Peggy Anderson had commented on how kindness was not a normal occurrence in her life. “Lucky you.”
“Not necessarily. I haven’t seen my mom in two years. Not since we had...” She rubbed her hands on her jeans. “You don’t need to hear all this.”
He reached the door of his truck aware that what he really wanted to do was to stay and learn more about this woman. He settled for taking her hand in his. “I do need to hear, if we’re going to be friends.”
“Friends?”
“Did you have more in mind?” he asked, keeping his tone light and noncommittal.
She shaded her eyes with her hand as she glanced over at the paddock. “I don’t have much of anything in mind,” she said, her voice soft, but her words offering a rebuke.
“You don’t seem to have much faith in people. Is there a reason?”
She returned her gaze to him, her expression unreadable. “What would you do if your mother had lied to you all your life?”
“Whoa! Don’t know. My mom and I were always close. Can’t imagine how that would feel.”
She turned to face him, a lost look in her eyes. “There are moments I wish I could call my mom, but too much time has passed, too many missed opportunities.”
He didn’t know what to say to her to ease the naked loneliness capturing her face. He wasn’t good at any of this sort of thing, of facing sadness or sorrow—part of why his experience in Haiti had been so difficult. Or so his therapist had said, back when he was still keeping his appointments with her.