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To Brenda Minton who makes me laugh when I
want to cry. Thanks for the brainstorming sessions
and the pep talks, but mostly thanks for being you.
And to Bob and Jan Porter and
Dick and Carolyn Livesey who are
true encouragers.
Thanks for always cheering me on!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
ONE
It came in the night, whispering into her dreams. Silent stars, hazy moonlight, a winding road. Sudden, blinding light.
Impact.
Rolling, tumbling, terror. And then silence.
Smoke danced at the edges of memory as flames writhed serpentlike through cracked glass and crumbled metal, hissing and whirling in the timeless dance of death.
Adam! She reached for his hand, wanting to pull him from the car and from the dream—whole and alive. Safe. But her questing hand met empty space and hot flame, her body flinching with the pain and the horror of it.
Sirens blared in the distance, their throbbing pulse a heartbeat ebbing and flowing with the growing flames. She turned toward the door, trying to push aside hot, bent metal, and saw a shadow beyond the shattered glass; a dark figure leaning toward the window, staring in. Dark eyes that seemed to glow in the growing flames.
Help me! She tried to scream the words, but they caught in her throat. And the shadow remained still and silent, watching as the car burned and she burned with it.
The shrill ring of an alarm clock sounded over the roar of flames, spearing into Chloe Davidson’s consciousness and pulling her from the nightmare. For a moment there was nothing but the dream. No past. No present. No truth except hot flames and searing pain. But the flames weren’t real, the pain a fading memory. Reality was…what?
Chloe scrambled to anchor herself in the present before she fell back into the foggy world of unknowns she’d lived in during the weeks following the accident.
“Saturday. Lakeview, Virginia. The Morran wedding. Flowers. Decorations.” She listed each item as it came to mind, grabbing towels from the tiny closet beside the bathroom door, pulling clothes from her dresser. Black pants. Pink shirt. Blooming Baskets’ uniform. Her new job. Her new life. A normality she still didn’t quite believe in.
The phone rang before she could get in the shower, the muted sound drawing her from the well-lit bedroom and into the dark living room beyond.
“Hello?” She pressed the receiver to her ear as she flicked on lamps and the overhead light, her heart still racing, her throbbing leg an insistent reminder of the nightmare she’d survived.
“Chloe. Opal, here.”
At the sound of her friend and boss’s voice, Chloe relaxed, leaning her hip against the sofa and forcing the dream and the memories to the back of her mind. “You’ve only been gone a day and you’re already checking in?”
“Checking in? I wasn’t planning to do that until tonight. This is business. We’ve got a problem. Jenna’s gone into labor.”
Opal’s only other full-time employee, Jenna Monroe, was eight months pregnant and glowing with it. At least she had been when Chloe had seen her the previous day. “She’s not due for another four weeks.”
“Maybe not, but the baby has decided to make an appearance. You’re going to have to handle the setup for the Morran wedding on your own until I can get there.”
“I’ll call Mary Alice—”
“Mary Alice is going to have to stay at the store. We can’t afford to close for the day and between the two of you, she’s the better floral designer.”
“It doesn’t take much to be better than me.” Chloe’s dry comment fell on deaf ears, Opal’s voice continuing on, giving directions and listing jobs that needed to be done before the wedding guests arrived at the church.
“So, that’s it. Any questions?”
“No. But you do realize I’ve only been working at Blooming Baskets for five days, right?”
“Are you saying you can’t do this?”
“I’m saying I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee the results.”
“No need to guarantee anything. I’ve already left Baltimore. I’ll be in Lakeview at least an hour before the wedding. We’ll finish the job together.”
“If I haven’t ruined everything by then.”
“What’s to ruin? We’re talking flowers, ribbons and bows.” Opal paused, and Chloe could imagine her raking a hand through salt and pepper curls, her strong face set in an impatient frown. “Look, I have faith in your ability to handle this. Why don’t you try to have some, too?”
The phone clicked as Opal disconnected, and Chloe set the receiver down.
Faith? Maybe she’d had it once—in herself and her abilities, in those she cared about. But that was before the accident, before Adam’s death. Before his betrayal. Before everything had changed.
Now she wasn’t even sure she knew what the word meant.
It didn’t take long to shower and change, to grab her keys and make her way out of her one-bedroom apartment and into the dark hallway of the aging Victorian she lived in.
Outside it was still dark, brisk fall air dancing through the grass and rustling the dying leaves of the bushes that flanked the front porch. Chloe scanned the shadowy yard, the trees that stretched spindly arms toward the heavens, the inky water of Smith Mountain Lake. There seemed a breathless quality to the morning, a watchful waiting that crawled along Chloe’s nerves and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. A million eyes could be watching from the woods beside the house, a hundred men could be sliding silently toward the car and she’d never know it, never see it until it was too late.
Cold sweat broke out on her brow, her hand shaking as she got in the car and shoved the keys into the ignition.
“You are not going to have a panic attack about this.” She hissed the words as she drove up the long driveway and turned onto the road, refusing to think about what she was doing, refusing to dwell on the darkness that pressed against the car windows. Soon dawn would come, burning away the night and her memories. For now, she’d just have to deal with both.
Forty minutes later, Chloe arrived at Grace Christian Church, the pink Blooming Baskets van she’d picked up at the shop loaded with decorations and floral arrangements. It was just before seven. The wedding was scheduled for noon. Guests would arrive a little before then. That meant she had four hours to get ready for what Opal and Jenna had called the biggest event to take place in Lakeview in a decade. And Chloe was the one setting up for it.
She would have laughed if she weren’t so sure she was about to fail. Miserably.
Cold crisp air stung her cheeks as she stepped to the back of the van and pulled open the double doors. The sickeningly sweet funeral-parlor stench nearly made her gag as she dragged the first box out.
“Need a hand?”
The voice was deep, masculine and so unexpected Chloe jumped, the box of wrought iron candelabras dropping from her hands. She whirled toward the sound, but could see nothing but the deep gray shadows of trees and foliage. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
“You sure? Looks like you’ve got a full van there.” A figure emerged from the trees, a deeper shadow among many others, but moving closer.
“I can manage.” As she spoke, she dug in her jacket pocket, her fist closing around the small canister of pepper spray she carried. She didn’t know who this guy was, but if he got much closer he was going to get a face full of pain.
“I’m sure you can, but Opal won’t be happy if I let you. She just ordered me out of bed and over here to help. So here I am. Ready to lend a hand. Or two.” His voice was amiable, his stride unhurried. Chloe released her hold on the spray.
“Opal shouldn’t have bothered you, Mr…?”
“Ben Avery. And it wasn’t a bother.”
She knew the name, had heard plenty about the handsome widower who pastored Grace Christian Church. Opal’s description of the man’s single-and-available status had led Chloe to believe he was Opal’s contemporary. Late fifties or early sixties.
In the dim morning light, he looked closer to thirty and not like any pastor Chloe had ever seen, his hair just a little too long, his leather jacket more biker than preacher.
“Bother or not, I’m sure you have other things to do with your time, Pastor Avery.”
“I can’t think of any offhand. And call me Ben. Everyone else does.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the scent of pine needles and soap drifting on the air as he leaned forward and grabbed the box she’d dropped.
Chloe thought about arguing, but insisting she do the job herself would only waste time she didn’t have. She shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll accept your help and say thanks.”
“You might want to hold off on the thanks until we see how many flower arrangements I manage to massacre.”
“You’re not the only one who may massacre a few. I know as much about flowers as the average person knows about nuclear physics.”
He laughed, the sound shivering along Chloe’s nerves and bringing her senses to life. “Opal did mention that you’re a new hire.”
“Should I ask what else she mentioned?”
“You can, but that was about all she said. That and, ‘It’ll be on your head, Ben Avery, if Chloe decides to quit because of the pressure she’s under today.’”
“That sounds just like her. The rat.”
“She is, but she’s a well-meaning rat.”
“Very true.” Chloe pulled out another box. “And I really could use the help. This is a big job.”
“Then I guess we’d better get moving. Between the two of us we should be able to get most of the setup done before Opal arrives.” Ben pushed open the church door, waiting as Chloe moved more slowly across the parking lot.
“Ladies first.” He gestured for her to step inside, but Chloe hesitated.
She hated the dark. Hated the thought of what might be lurking in it. The inside of the church was definitely dark, the inky blackness lit by one tiny pinpoint of light flashing from the ceiling. She knew it must be a smoke detector, but her mind spiraled into the darkness, carried her back to the accident, to the shadowy figure standing outside the window of the car, to the eyes that had seemed to glow red, searing into her soul and promising a slow, torturous death.
She swayed, her heart racing so fast she was sure she was going to pass out.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ben wrapped a hand around her arm, anchoring her in place, his warmth chasing away some of the fear that shivered through her.
“I’m fine.” Of course she wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot. But her terror was only a feeling, the danger imagined.
She took a deep breath, stepped into the room, the darkness enveloping her as the door clicked shut. Chloe forced herself to concentrate on the moment, on the soft pad of Ben’s shoes as he moved across the floor, the scent of pine needles and soap that drifted on the air around him.
Finally, overhead lights flicked on, illuminating a wide hallway. Hardwood floors, creamy walls, bulletin boards filled with announcements and pictures. The homey warmth of it drew her in and welcomed her.
Chloe turned, facing Ben, seeing him clearly for the first time, her heart leaping as she looked into the most vividly blue eyes she’d ever seen. Deep sapphire, they burned into hers, glowing with life, with energy, with an interest that made Chloe step back, the box clutched close, a flimsy barrier between herself and the man who’d done what no other had in the past year—made her want to keep looking, made her want to know more, made her wish she were the woman she’d been before Adam’s death.
His gaze touched her face, the scar on her neck, the mottled flesh of her hand, but he didn’t comment or ask the questions so many people felt they had the right to. “The sanctuary is through here. Let’s bring these in. Then I’ll make some coffee before we get the rest from the van.”
Chloe followed silently, surprised by her response to Ben and not happy about it. She’d made too many mistakes with Adam, had too many regrets. There wasn’t room for anything else. Or anyone.
“Where do you want these?” Ben’s question pulled her from her thoughts and she glanced around the large room. Rows of pews, their dark wood gleaming in the overhead light, flanked a middle aisle. A few stairs led to a pulpit and a choir loft, a small door to one side of them closed tight.
“On the first pew will be fine. I’ll start there and work my way back.” She avoided looking in Ben’s direction as she spoke, preferring to tell herself she’d imagined the bright blue of his eyes, the warm interest there. He was a pastor, after all, and she was a woman who had no interest in men.
“Am I making you nervous?”
Startled, Chloe glanced up, found herself pulled into his gaze again.
“No.” At least not much. “Why do you ask?”
“Sometimes my job makes people uncomfortable.” He smiled, his sandy hair and strong, handsome face giving him a boy-next-door appearance that seemed at odds with the intensity in his eyes.
“Not me.” Though Ben seemed to be having that effect on her.
“Good to know.” He smiled again, but his gaze speared into hers and she wondered what he was seeing as he looked so deeply into her eyes. “And just so we’re clear. Florists don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Despite herself, Chloe smiled. “Then I guess that means we’ll both be nice and relaxed while we work.”
“Not until we have some coffee. I don’t know about you, but I’m not much good for anything until I’ve had a cup.”
His words were the perfect excuse to end the conversation and move away from Ben, and Chloe started back toward the sanctuary door, anxious to refocus her thinking, recenter her thoughts. “I’ll keep unloading while you make some.”
Ben put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her before she could exit the room. “If the rest of the boxes are as heavy as the last one, maybe you should make the coffee and I should unload.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You will be, but I won’t if Opal finds out I let you carry in a bunch of heavy boxes while I made coffee.”
“Who’s going to tell her?”
“I’d feel obligated to. After all, she’s bound to ask how things went and I’m bound to tell the truth.”
For the second time since she’d met Ben, Chloe found herself smiling at his words. Not good. Not good at all. Men were bad news. At least all the men in Chloe’s life had been. The sooner she put distance between herself and Ben, the better she’d feel. “Since you put it that way, I guess I can’t argue.”
“Glad to hear it, because arguing isn’t getting me any closer to having that cup of coffee. Come on, I’ll show you to the kitchen.” He strode out of the sanctuary, moving with long, purposeful strides.
Chloe followed more slowly, not sure what it was about Ben that had sparked her interest and made her want to look closer. He was a man, just like any other man she’d ever known, but there was something in his eyes—secrets, depths—that begged exploration.
Fortunately, she’d learned her lesson about men the hard way and she had no intention of learning any more. She’d just get through the wedding preparations, get through the day, then go back to her apartment and forget Ben Avery and his compelling gaze.
TWO
The industrial-size kitchen had a modern feel with a touch of old-time charm, the stainless steel counters and appliances balanced by mellow gold paint, white cabinets and hardwood floor. Chloe hovered in the doorway, wary, unsure of herself in a way she hadn’t been a year ago, watching as Ben plugged in a coffeemaker and pulled a can of coffee from a cupboard. He gestured her over and Chloe stepped into the room ignoring the erratic beat of her heart. “This is a nice space.”
“Yeah, it is, but I can’t take credit. We remodeled a couple of years ago. The church ladies decided on the setup and color scheme. Opal pretty much spearheaded the project.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. She’s a take-charge kind of person. It’s one of the things I admire about her.”
“Have you known her long?” He leaned a hip against the counter, relaxed and at ease. Apparently not at all disturbed by the fact that he’d been called out of bed before dawn on a cool November day to help a woman he didn’t know set up flowers for a wedding he was probably officiating.
Strange.
Interesting.
Intriguing.
Enough!
Chloe rubbed the scarred flesh on her wrist, forcing her thoughts back to the conversation. “Since I was a kid.”
“You grew up in Lakeview?” His gaze was disconcerting, and Chloe resisted the urge to look away.
“No, I visited in the summer.” She didn’t add more. The past was something she didn’t share. Especially not with strangers.
Ben seemed to take the hint, turning away and pulling sugar packets from a cupboard. “It’s a good place to spend the summer. And the fall, winter and spring.” He smiled. “There’s cream in the fridge if you take it. I’d better get moving on those boxes.”
With that he strode from the room, his movements lithe and silent, almost catlike in their grace. He might be a pastor now, but Chloe had a feeling he’d been something else before he’d felt a call to ministry. Military. Police. Firefighter. Something that required control, discipline and strength.
Not that it mattered or was any of her business.
Chloe shook her head, reaching for a coffee filter and doing her best to concentrate on the task at hand. Obviously, the nightmare had thrown her off, destroying her focus and hard-won control. She needed to get both back and she needed to do it now. Opal was counting on her. There was no way she planned to disappoint the one person in her life who had never disappointed her.
She paced across the room, staring out the window above the sink, anxiety a cold, hard knot in her chest. New beginnings. That’s what she hoped for. Prayed for. But maybe she was too entrenched in the past to ever escape it. Maybe coming to Lakeview was nothing more than putting off the inevitable.
Outside, dawn bathed the churchyard in purple light and deep shadows, the effect sinister. Ominous. A thick stand of trees stood at the far end of the property, tall pines and heavy-branched oaks reaching toward the ever-brightening sky. As the coffee brewed, the rich, full scent of it filled the kitchen, bringing memories of hot summer days, lacy curtains, open windows, soft voices. Safety.
But safety and security never lasted. All Chloe could hope for was a measure of peace.
She started to turn away from the window, but something moved near the edge of the yard, a slight shifting in the darkness that caught her attention. Was that a person standing in the shadows of the trees? It was too far to see the details, the light too dim. But Chloe was sure there was a person there. Tall. Thin. Looking her way.
She took a step back, her pulse racing, her skin clammy and cold. This was the nightmare again. The stranger watching, waiting on the other side of the glass. Only this time Chloe wasn’t trapped in a car and surrounded by flames. This time she was able to run. And that’s just what she did, turning away from the window, rushing from the kitchen and slamming into a hard chest.
She flew back, her bad leg buckling, her hands searching for purchase. Her fingers sank into cool leather as strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her upright.
“Careful. We’ve got a lot to do. It’s probably best if we don’t kill each other before we finish.” Ben’s words tickled against her hair, his palms warm against her ribs. He felt solid and safe and much too comfortable.
Chloe stepped back, forcing herself to release her white-knuckled grip on his jacket. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to run you down.”
“You didn’t even come close.” His gaze swept over her, moving from her face, to her hands and back again. “Is everything okay? You look pale.”
“I…” But what was she going to say? That she’d seen someone standing outside the church? That she thought it might be the same person who’d stood outside her burning car, watching while the flames grew? The same person who’d been in jail for eleven months? “Everything is fine. I’m just anxious to get started in the sanctuary.”
He stared hard, as if he could see beyond her answer to the truth that she was trying to hide, the paranoia and fear that had dogged her for months. Finally, he nodded. “How about we grab the coffee and get started?”
Go back into the kitchen? Back near the window that looked out onto the yard? Maybe catch another glimpse of whoever was standing near the trees. No thanks. “You go ahead. I’ll start unpacking boxes.”
She hurried back toward the sanctuary, feeling the weight of Ben’s gaze as she stepped through the double wide doors. She didn’t look back, not wanting him to see the anxiety and frustration in her face.
She’d been so sure that moving away from D.C., leaving behind her apartment, her job, starting a new life, would free her from the anxiety that had become way too much a part of who she was. Seven days into her “new” life and she’d already sunk back into old patterns and thought processes.
Her hands trembled as she pulled chocolate-colored ribbon from a box and began decorating the first pew. Long-stemmed roses—deep red, creamy white, rusty orange—needed to be attached. She pulled a bouquet from a bucket Ben had brought in and wrestled it into place, a few petals falling near her feet as she tied a lopsided bow around the stems.
“Better be careful. Opal won’t like it if the roses are bald when she gets here.” Ben moved toward her, a coffee cup in each hand, sandy hair falling over his forehead.
“Hopefully, she won’t notice a few missing petals.”
“A few? No. A handful? Maybe.” He set both cups on a pew and scooped up several silky petals. “I brought you coffee. Black. You didn’t look like the sugar and cream type.”
He was right, and Chloe wasn’t sure she was happy about it. “What gave it away?”
“Your eyes.” He didn’t elaborate and Chloe didn’t ask, just lifted the closest cup, inhaling the rich, sharp scent of the coffee and doing her best to avoid Ben’s steady gaze.
Which annoyed her. She’d never been one to avoid trouble. Never been one to back away from a challenge. Never been. But the accident had changed her.
She took a sip of the coffee, pulled more ribbon from the box, forcing lightness to her movements and to her voice. “They say the eyes are the window to the soul. If you’re seeing black coffee in mine, I’m in big trouble.”
“I’m seeing a lot more than black coffee in there.” He grabbed a bouquet of roses, holding it while Chloe hooked it in place and tied a ribbon around the stems, feeling the heat of Ben’s body as he leaned in close to help, wondering what it was he thought he saw in her eyes.
Or maybe not wondering. Maybe she knew. Darkness. Sorrow. Guilt. Emotions she’d tried to outrun, but that refused to be left behind.
She grabbed another ribbon, another bouquet, trying to lose herself in the rhythm of the job.