Not This Time Read online

  Not This Time

  Jasper Lake Prequel

  Leah Atwood

  Copyright © 2016 by Leah Atwood

  Cover Design © CoverbyRamona

  Cover Image © Adobestock.com

  Editing by Vicki Prather of Prather Ink

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  To those who need a second chance

  Jasper Lake Series:

  Not This Time- Prequel

  Born to Love- Book One

  A Love This True- Book Two

  All That Glitters- Book Three

  What Matters Most- Book Four

  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

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Love in a Fix Excerpt

  “There is no fear in love; instead, perfect love drives out fear.” 1 John 4:18

  Chapter One

  Amie Reynolds stared at the empty church still decorated for a wedding that hadn’t happened.

  Bouquets of purple-berry dahlias hung from the center-aisle edge of each pew. A length of white satin carpet stretched from the rear of the church to the altar. The never-lit unity candle nestled in its brass holder, a bitter reminder of the nonexistent wedding.

  All because her fiancé—no, ex-fiancé—decided without consulting her that a “once-in-a- lifetime opportunity” to study a previously uncontacted tribe of the Amazon took precedence over their wedding and a life together.

  A note—that’s all Tim had left for her to find early this morning. Instead of experiencing what should have been the best day of her life, she’d been jilted. Tim hadn’t even given her a say in the matter. He’d simply taken off for Brazil last night, two hours after the rehearsal dinner, with little regard for her, the woman he professed to love and wanted to marry. His note explained he’d had to make an instant decision. The study would last five years, and he didn’t expect her to wait for him. He’d ended the note with “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Inconvenience? Is that what it was called these days? Try humiliation, heartbreak, devastation, or all of the above.

  Somehow, in the midst of her anger and disappointment, Tim’s insensitivity and immaturity in handling the situation provided a mild salve to her battered ego. He had obsessed over his work for as long as she’d known him, but she’d foolishly assumed that would change once they were married and started a family. Her lack of nuptials today proved she’d been wrong.

  Work always had and always would come first to Tim Deshaye. If they’d made it to the altar, she’d have found herself trapped in a life of playing second fiddle. When she looked at it that way, being jilted was a blessing in disguise. Regardless, it didn’t ease the pain.

  “I’ll think about it tomorrow.” Her declaration echoed in the empty church.

  Isn’t that what Scarlett O’Hara had said? Yeah, and look how well that worked out for her.

  Amie moved to the rear pew and sat down. Her gaze fixed on one of the dahlias, the flower she’d picked for its lack of scent as a consideration for many of Tim’s family members who couldn’t handle strong smells. How many times had she acquiesced to his requests? She’d never minded because she loved him, but now that she reflected on their three-year history, she realized Tim rarely compromised.

  Had they ever been truly in love? If so, she wouldn’t be sitting in the church, unmarried, would she? But she loved him—that much she knew. Overwhelmed, she brought in a sharp intake of breath as she felt herself losing control. She hadn’t cried yet, a feat she thought was significant in itself. Why hadn’t she?

  The sensation of drowning enveloped her and breathing became more difficult. She’d read somewhere that the hollow stems of the dahlia plant were once used as an underwater breathing apparatus. It was a useless piece of trivia to remember at the moment, but its frivolity distracted her, if only for a few seconds.

  Until the waterworks began. Whether it was denial or self-preservation that kept them away all day, Amie gave in to the tears and lost the battle against crying. Her chest heaved with sobs as her eyes overflowed with the emission of her heart’s shattered pieces.

  After an indeterminate amount of time, Amie felt a hand on her shoulder. Though she hadn’t seen anyone approach, she wasn’t startled for she knew that touch. It was the hand that had comforted her since she was born, bandaged her scrapes and hugged away many tears.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said between sniffles.

  “I thought I’d find you here.” Her mom offered a tight-lipped smile. “May I sit?”

  Amie scooted over. She didn’t say anything when her mom slid an arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer. Rather than speak, she leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder and let the rest of her tears flow. When they finally subsided, she lifted her head. “Thank you for being here.”

  “No matter how grown up you are, you’ll always be my little girl.” A scowl tightened her mom’s face. “I could strangle Tim for putting you through this. It’s a good thing he’s already out of the country because your father has half a mind to hunt him down.”

  The thought of her father—who spent most of his free time indoors with his nose buried in a scholarly journal—tracking down Tim made her giggle in spite of herself. “And do what? Dad wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Her mom winked. “Besides, he could give Tim a verbal lashing he wouldn’t soon forget with all those ten dollar words of his.”

  “I bet.” She released a sigh as she took a survey of the decorations. “What do I do now?”

  “The only thing you can.” Keys jingled when her mom reached into her purse then handed Amie a tissue. “Move forward.”

  She blew her nose and looked her mom in the eyes. “How do I do that?”

  “Lots of prayers and a strong will.”

  “What about all of this?” She waved a hand in a horizontal semicircle.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already spoken with your aunts, and we’ll take care of it.” Her mom glanced at her watch. “They’re meeting me here in an hour.”

  Darkness fell on Amie’s shoulders. Suddenly, she couldn’t remember why she’d come to the church when it was the last place she wanted to be, but now she’d be here another two hours at least. “I appreciate their help, but you and I can get it done before then if we start now.”

  Her mom squeezed her hand. “Go home, Amie, and get some rest. Let us do this for you.”

  “I can’t leave it all to you.”

  “Sometimes you need to step back and let someone else come in and
help.” Mom bent her head and dropped a kiss on her hair. “I’ll drop off dinner for you before I head home.”

  Too emotionally exhausted to argue further, Amie caved. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She stood and slid past where her mom sat in the pew. Back straight with false confidence, she marched to the set of double doors at the church’s entrance. Glancing over her shoulder, she stole a final glance at her broken dreams. If only easing the heartache was as simple as taking down the decorations. Her shoulders slumped, and she left the church.

  Once in her car, she tuned the radio to an AM station and listened to a droning voice discuss the latest political news. It was just boring enough to numb her mind. By the time she reached her apartment, she’d had fifteen minutes of reprieve.

  Until she opened her apartment door and saw a pile of unopened gifts from friends unable to attend the ceremony. Dropping her purse to the ground, she rushed to the stack and grabbed the top two presents. She shoved them into the closet with a force that shot up her arms. In less than a minute, all the packages were hidden in the closet—out of sight, but not out of mind.

  Amie leaned against the closet door then sank to the floor, burying her head in her hands. No tears came out, only a lonesome, grieving, angry sob. Her throat tightened. Where did she go from here? Mom had said to move forward, but, logistically, what did that include?

  Spring was coming to an end and summer loomed ahead. Could she cancel her leave of absence? She and Tim had agreed she would take time off work to set up their new home. In hindsight, she wondered why she hadn’t questioned him, or wondered why he’d left the responsibility entirely to her. Because I thought that’s what a loving wife would do and never imagined he’d leave me at the altar.

  Regardless, she had to make a decision. Financially, she could afford the leave of absence. Her job as a corporate trainer provided an above modest salary, and she’d saved a substantial portion of her check every payday since accepting the position five years ago, straight out of college.

  Still taking the leave of absence could give her time to accept her life had changed and come to terms with her continued single status. It would also save her the constant stares and questions from her co-workers. On the other side, how would she occupy her time? She’d worked sixty- plus-hour weeks for longer than she could remember. Could she fill those hours with meaningful activity? She wouldn’t know where to begin.

  Not to mention, she needed a place to live. Her lease ended at the end of the month, on the last day of May. There was always the house she’d bought with Tim, the house she’d thought she would be spending tonight in before leaving for her Jackson Hole honeymoon in the morning. But did she want to live in that house still? How would it even work? The mortgage was under his name, but in the note he’d left, he’d granted her permission to live there while he was gone. Yet another issue she’d have to deal with, thanks to Tim’s impulsive choice.

  No. Standing to her feet, one decision became clear. She wouldn’t move into the new house. Too many voided memories that never had a chance to happen would haunt her. Living there would be an unhealthy move. Whether it rented out or sat vacant until Tim’s return, she didn’t care. The house wasn’t her responsibility, and she wouldn’t live there simply to maintain the house until he came back to the states.

  With that decision made, a load lifted from her shoulders as she released a small portion of Tim’s hold on her. It gave her strength to think about the future with hope, rather than despair. She wanted to leave Charlotte—not to run away, but to revitalize. After years of hard work and cashing out most of her vacation time, she’d earned her leave of absence. She wouldn’t rush back to work, but would make the most of her three-month break.

  On a roll, the only major decision left to make was where to live.

  Jasper Lake.

  As soon as it popped into her head, she knew that’s where she wanted to go. Images manifested of childhood summers spent in the small community in the Adirondacks. Great Aunt Sally’s lake house was a place of serenity that conjured memories of day-long outdoor play after a breakfast of homemade sticky buns, then coming in at evening time for a dinner of trout caught by Uncle Hank.

  God rest his soul, Uncle Hank had died three years ago, but Aunt Sally was the same dynamo she’d always been, if not lonely for her companion of fifty years.

  Amie didn’t think twice before grabbing her keys and running back to her car. Aunt Sally would be at the church helping to take down decorations, no matter she was a guest and a visitor to North Carolina—that wouldn’t stop Aunt Sally from helping where needed.

  The drive to the church took half the time it had taken to get home an hour ago. Amie sped into the parking lot and burst from her car immediately after parking. She ran through the double doors, eager this time.

  “Aunt Sally.” Her voice echoed in the near empty building.

  Six women all turned and looked at her, then exchanged glances with each other.

  Her great aunt stepped forward. Wheat-colored hair, unfaded by age, glowed a golden hue under the church’s lights. “Yes, dear?”

  Out of breath from her sprint to the building, Amie’s lungs worked to draw in a deep gulp of air, then exhaled. “Is that open invitation to visit anytime still open?”

  “Always.” A sparkle appeared in both of Aunt Sally’s eyes.

  “What do you think of cancelling your flight, and I’ll drive you home?”

  Aunt Sally closed the gap between them and flattened her palm against Amie’s cheek. “A road trip with my favorite great-niece sounds delightful.”

  For the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, Amie smiled. Three months from now remained a mystery. In the meantime, she’d have Jasper Lake and Aunt Sally.

  Chapter Two

  A single stop sign let Drew know he was almost home. Funny that after a nine year absence, Jasper Lake would once again be home. Life had a strange way of changing lives. He’d left the mountains of upstate New York for the city, and he had made a life there.

  He’d attended NYU for four years on a scholarship. During that time, he’d worked two jobs while still keeping up with his studies so he could attend law school at Columbia. Before he’d even graduated, he’d landed his dream job at a prestigious firm. Now, two years later, he’d left the city, disillusioned by the corruption he’d witnessed. His trust in people as a whole was fractured, his optimism jaded.

  After quitting his job, he was ready to enjoy an unassuming life. No demanding phone calls at three in the morning from bosses, no high-profile clients to draw his name into the media. Just him, a fishing pole, and some bait. That dream of simplicity pushed him through the stop sign and toward the lakeside house of his childhood.

  Familiar landmarks began to greet him. Old Man Tatrem’s fish mailbox—that couldn’t possibly be the original because Drew had been in the car with Tony Appleby when he’d crushed it while learning to drive. Frog Bottom Park, where he’d had his first kiss; Simeon’s Bait and Grocery, where he’d hung out most summer days with the guys before and after a day of fishing. Tippy’s Diner, where he’d gone on his first date ever before he could even drive. He’d ridden his bike to Jenny Zumbrum’s house, and from there they walked together to the diner. They’d gone on one more date before deciding they’d rather be friends.

  He blinked and missed the rest of downtown Jasper Lake. The freshly paved road continued alongside a line of tamaracks and shrubs with several lake houses hiding behind the branches. Jasper Loop circled the circumference of the lake. In a half mile, he came to his parents’ house.

  The sage-green house sat nestled among the trees and was designed by the architect to have two fronts. Whether viewing from the road or the lake, the casual observer would think they saw the home’s curb appeal. On the side facing the water, a deck overlooked Jasper Lake. Cut grass and a well-manicured lawn caught his attention when he first stepped out of his car. Someone, probably his sister or her husband, had seen to the yard. He’d fi
nd out for sure and host a cookout for them. The trunk opened when he hit a button on his key fob. Slinging his duffel bag over a shoulder, he closed the trunk. Once he inspected the inside of the house, he’d come back for the remaining bags.

  The house was empty. Last year, his parents had retired to Florida, and although they’d planned to spend the summer in Jasper Lake, they’d decided at the last minute to take a cruise and wouldn’t be back in country until mid-July. In the meantime, he’d have the house to himself. After the constant swarm of people in New York City, he looked forward to the downtime and being able to hear himself think.

  “Drew,” a loud, feminine voice squealed.

  So much for quiet. Still, he couldn’t stop his grin from spreading as his sister walked into view from the staircase. “How are you, Dena?”

  “Great, now that you’re home.” His baby sister ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

  He stood stiff at first, unaccustomed to enthusiastic greetings after years of keeping company with people who calculated every move. But isn’t that exactly what I wanted to get away from? Relaxing his posture, he returned the hug. “Clint still treating you well?”

  Dena backed away and gave him a playful swat. “You act like you’ve been gone forever, I happen to know you talk to my husband quite often.”

  “And I’d still kick him to the moon if he ever mistreated you.”

  “No worries there.” She angled her body and pointed to the kitchen. “I stocked the fridge and pantry with your favorites.”

  “Thanks.” He tipped his chin. “I appreciate it.”

  “Do you have any dinner plans?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll unpack, then scour through what you bought.”

  “Why don’t you come over and I’ll grill you a ribeye.” Crossing her arms behind her back, she rocked on her heels and flashed a sheepish smile. “Clint said not to ask you tonight, to give you time to get settled, but I couldn’t help it. I’m too happy my big brother is back.”