Not This Time Read online

  “If Clint doesn’t mind, I’ll take you up on that offer.” His body ached from sitting in the car and his mind was weary from the massive decisions he’d made. He was tired, but he didn’t relish the thought of fending for himself tonight. Manhattan had spoiled him with a never-ending list of restaurants from which to order takeout.

  “He won’t. The only reason he said anything was to keep me from being the pesky little sister.” A bubbly laugh testified she didn’t mind that role.

  “What time should I be there?”

  She cut her gaze to the stove clock. “Is six too early? I know you’re used to those late night dinners.”

  “Six is fine.” When was the last time he’d eaten dinner before eight? Another difference he would have to adjust to.

  “See you then.” She stepped past him to leave then paused. “You are back for good, right? I’m not going to wake up in a week and find you gone?”

  “Here for good.”

  “What happens once everything blows over? Will you get bored and go back?” Her expressive eyes looked near tears.

  “There’s nothing left in the city to pull me there anymore. I’m not sure what the future holds for me, but I know it will be in Jasper Lake.”

  “I love you, big bro. Anyway I can help, let me know.”

  “Will do.” He wanted to tell her just being home and near family was enough, but he wasn’t ready to expose his emotions in that way yet.

  Dena lingered, sparks bouncing in her eyes. “You know—”

  “I’m not sure what you’re thinking,” he interrupted, “but I know that look, and ninety-five percent of the time it leads to no good.”

  “This time I’ll let it go. But…” She allowed her statement to trail off.

  To his annoyance, curiosity got the better of him, which he wasn’t about to let his sister know or she’d use it to her favor. “But I have a laundry list of tasks to complete now if I’m to make it to your house by six.”

  She raised her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you in two hours.”

  After Dena left, he climbed the stairs to the second floor and dropped his duffel bag on the twin-size bed. After his parents’ visit this summer, he’d move into the master bedroom, but for now, he’d stay in his old room, which hadn’t changed much since he’d moved out for college. A shelf above the desk showcased various awards and trophies he’d won throughout high school. The walls were the same tan they’d always been and two posters of fish types flanked a copy of the Constitution.

  Even as a child, he’d warred with opposite personality flares. He got just as much enjoyment out of studying a textbook as he did by spending a day on the lake fishing or hiking through the forest. He couldn’t get enough of the outdoors, but he craved learning. While many of his colleagues found law school tedious and a means to an end, he thrived on discovering the intricacies of the legal system.

  Now what?

  Before he could get lost in the maze of worries about his future, he returned downstairs and to his car. He threw his garment bag over one arm and lifted out the suitcase, set the luggage on its wheels and pulled up the handle.

  Three bags total. That’s all he brought with him. Jasper Lake didn’t offer many opportunities for suits, so he’d donated most of his to a nonprofit that dressed homeless men and women for job interviews. Since his parents’ house was fully furnished, he’d sold his furniture to a colleague whose apartment had flooded. His contemporary furnishings would clash with the rustic theme, anyway.

  Once again in the bedroom, he sprawled out on the bed. His arms fell off the sides of the bed, and he had to bend his knees to not push through the footboard. A new bed would top his list of priority purchases. Sleeping on a twin frame was fine for a night or two, but he’d be here long term and needed a larger mattress. Beyond that, the mattress had a slight dip in the center from years of use before he’d left home—definitely time for a new one.

  His eyes fluttered, heavy with sleepiness. Before he could give in to slumber, he got up from the bed and started to unpack. Several jackets and sweaters he hadn’t worn in years hung in the closet. He laughed when he saw his varsity jacket still hanging there. He made a mental note to pack it away where it wouldn’t get eaten by moths. Years from now, when his currently nonexistent children were older, he could pass it down to his oldest son. By then, varsity jackets might be a thing of the past.

  After his clothes all hung in the closet or were neatly folded in a drawer, and his hygiene gear neatly lay out on the bathroom counter, he took inventory of what all was in the house. True to her word, Dena had stocked the kitchen to the brim. She’d even remembered the protein shakes he drank as a meal replacement for breakfast.

  That was another thing he wanted to change. He’d gone into work before the sun rose, and usually ate his first meal of the day at his desk, thus the easy and convenient shakes. With that life behind him, he wanted to reclaim breakfast—make a bowl of oatmeal, or fry an egg, and eat outside on the deck while watching the sunrise. It was time he relearned how to savor time instead of constantly rushing through a chaotic life.

  During his search, he found the only things needed were toilet paper and shampoo, which he discovered he’d not packed. He’d run by the general store on his way to Dena’s. If he waited until after, all the stores would be closed. All commerce around here shut down by eight unless something had changed, and he doubted that.

  If he had more time, he’d walk to town—use the exercise to energize his body—but that would put him at Dena’s past six o’clock. His keys weren’t on the counter where he thought he left them. He searched by the door, and other areas he may have set them. No luck on the first floor, so he moved upstairs and found them on the nightstand.

  He jogged down the stairs, keys in hand. When he left the house, he didn’t bother locking the door. Jasper Lake hadn’t experienced a serious crime in seventy-five years. Occasionally the sheriff had to intervene when tourists got too rowdy, but ever since the bar closed fifteen years ago, even those instances had decreased.

  Drew drove to the store with the top down on his convertible. The flashy silver sports car appeared out of place in a community where most of the people kept a vehicle until its death, but the car remained one of the few vestiges of his previous life he didn’t wish to part with. He loved the wind pushing against him, the fresh air in his lungs, not to mention the car’s sleek design and mechanical prowess. It went zero to sixty in seconds, could hug the tightest curve, and stop on a dime.

  All ten parking spots at the general store were full, so he parked next door in an empty lot and walked across the gravel to his destination. His gaze snapped to and fro, searching for anyone he knew. None of the customers entering or exiting looked familiar—could be folks in for Memorial Day weekend. In his haste to leave the city, he’d forgotten about the holiday until flyers greeted him at the door, advertising super sales on burger patties and hot dogs.

  He bypassed the red plastic baskets which were probably the same ones that had been there since he was a child. Dena had always insisted on carrying a basket alongside Mom. He jiggled loose a cart and started his shopping. If he remembered correctly, the paper goods and toiletries were located in aisles twelve and fourteen. On the way, he detoured to the fresh fruits and bagged a couple of gala apples. Dena had left him bananas and blueberries, but he enjoyed the satisfying crunch of an apple.

  Continuing down to the far aisles, he saw the condiments and turned. He threw a bottle of Frankie Ray’s Barbecue sauce in the basket on impulse. There may have been some in the house, but he hadn’t noticed. Just seeing the bottle of the locally-made sweet and tangy sauce made with a hint of maple syrup brought a wave of nostalgia for the good old days.

  You’re only twenty-seven. Much too young to speak of the good old days. But he wasn’t. He’d seen the world, and it had corrupted him. A longing for the days of his youth struck with a force that pulled his concentration from the cart’s wayward path.r />
  “Ouch,” a female voice squeaked.

  Drew snapped back to the present. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  His eyes focused on the woman. He blinked twice, not believing the image in front of him.

  Ask, and you shall receive.

  A blonde-haired, green-eyed blast from the past had just been thrown in his path.

  Amie Reynolds in the flesh.

  Chapter Three

  Had she been in Charlotte, Amie would have snapped at the man who carelessly rammed his cart into her hip. Be that as it may, Jasper Lake had a calming effect on her. As she rubbed her side, she lifted her gaze to the man who was now profusely apologizing.

  He appeared vaguely familiar, and when she gave him a second look, she nearly gasped. After all these years, it couldn’t be. What was Drew Sullivan doing in town? Last she’d heard, he was in college. Okay, so that was a long time ago, and he’d presumably earned a degree or two since then. After she’d graduated high school, a year after he’d left for college, she’d stopped asking Aunt Sally about Drew. She’d accepted that her first love wasn’t meant to be and moved on.

  Still, seeing him nine years later was a shock.

  “Drew?”

  “Amie?”

  Their voices collided as they spoke at the same time.

  Drew recovered first. “How are you?” He stole a glance at her hip and gave a remorseful smile. “Other than your side.”

  “I’m good.” Partially true. In the week since she’d come to Jasper Lake, the pain of her broken engagement had begun to shrink. Slowly, but it was progress. “What about you? I never dreamed you’d be here.”

  “Just moved back. Tonight’s my first night here, actually.”

  “Oh wow, welcome back.” Her curiosity spiked when she spotted a flicker of distress in his expression, so faint she could have misinterpreted it.

  “Are you visiting your aunt?” Piercing blue eyes fixed their attention on her.

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “Indefinitely.” She moved her cart aside when a lady with two children came down the aisle.

  Drew arched a brow. “Everything okay?”

  “Yep.” She rocked on her heels—no way would she unload the mess of her failed wedding on him. “I had weeks of vacation saved and decided to use them.”

  “We’ll have to have coffee and catch up one morning. Does Dena know you’re in town?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve kept a low profile this week.”

  “Can I tell her you’re here?” He retrieved a phone from his pocket, not waiting for an answer. “What’s your number? She’ll be mad if I don’t get it for her.”

  A hearty laugh rumbled in her chest and erupted. “It’s not like Jasper Lake is big enough not to find me. You all know where Aunt Sally lives, but here’s my number.” She rambled off ten digits.

  After tapping his phone to save the number, he returned the device to his pocket. “I’ll be in touch. Dena, too.”

  “Thanks.” Mentally she kicked herself. Did she really thank him for saying he’d be in touch? “Aunt Sally’s waiting on me for dinner.” She gripped the cart’s plastic handle. “It was good seeing you.”

  “You, too.”

  They lingered in silence until Amie took the first step and pushed her cart toward the meat aisle. Distracted by running into Drew—or him running into her—she chose a pack of ground sirloin for Aunt Sally to make her famous burgers and tossed it in the cart. As she moved to the bakery department, she kept scouting for another glimpse of Drew. A bag of sesame-seed-topped buns later, she spotted him in the checkout line.

  Her feet propelled her toward the cash registers, but she had to make a conscience effort to cross over to the produce area and find the corn on the cob and fresh basil. She planned to make a summer corn salad while Aunt Sally took care of the main dish.

  Drew caught her gaze the exact moment she dared a look at him. His smile showcased well-defined cheeks and a dimple. She returned the smile and continued to the produce. How had she missed the entire department walking in? It was too early in the season for locally grown corn, but she added four cobs of what was available to her cart.

  By the time she checked out, Drew was gone. She had no control of her eyes as they searched the parking lot for another glimpse of him, to no avail.

  Get it together, Amie. She had come to Jasper Lake for a reprieve. Giddiness from seeing an old crush had no place in her life. Romance, or any dream of it, was on the back burner for now. Just because her heart had fluttered didn’t mean she should indulge in thoughts of Drew. Especially since he’d broken her heart once before.

  Summer love never lasted—it was a truth of life. They’d both agreed at the end of the summer to go their separate ways, but that didn’t make the parting less difficult. Her sixteen-year-old self had loved Drew. He hadn’t loved her, but she never doubted he’d cared. They shared a sweet history from an innocent time in their lives.

  She’d made her purchases and was almost home when she realized she hadn’t thought of Tim for almost an hour. The memory of her fiancé’s jilting crushed the endorphins released upon seeing Drew.

  Aunt Sally wasn’t in the house, and Amie found her on the back deck, working on a needlepoint.

  “I’m home.”

  “Already?” She stole a glance at her project. “I lost track of time out here.”

  Amie put a hand on her aunt’s shoulder and stared out. The beginning of sunset soaked into the waters, casting an illustrious copper glow over the lake. “That’s easy to do.”

  Aunt Sally reached up and patted her hand. “Never underestimate the healing properties of Jasper Lake.”

  “I doubt the lake has medicinal powers.”

  “I’m not talking about the water you see—or medicine.” Standing to her feet, Aunt Sally regarded her solemnly. “It’s about community, my dear. And a way of life.”

  Amie stayed outside for another minute after Aunt Sally went in the house, thinking about what she’d said. Jasper Lake did have a unique community. In a world that thrived on the hustle and bustle, the residents of this small town knew how to stop and smell the roses. People knew—and were friends with—their neighbors. Everyone watched out for each other. Delivering meals after birth; providing food for a funeral; and complimentary baby-, house-, and pet-sitting were all common occurrences. A small gathering at a person’s house often evolved into a community event.

  With a final appreciative look toward God’s gift of beauty in nature, Amie went inside.

  “Where’s the meat?” Aunt Sally searched through the brown paper bags. “I can’t find it.”

  “Should be in the bag with the frozen chicken filets.”

  Her aunt held up a plastic wrapped Styrofoam tray. “All I see is a package of ground turkey.”

  Oh no. Not paying attention, she’d grabbed the wrong type of meat. Now that she thought about it, she remembered thinking it didn’t have the deep pink appearance of the meat she bought in Charlotte. “I’m sorry, I grabbed the turkey thinking it was beef.” That’s what I get for being distracted. “I’ll hurry to the store again before they close.”

  “Don’t rush about. We can have something else tonight.”

  “What do you want? I’ll make it.” Amie unloaded the groceries from their bags and put them where they belonged.

  “I have black bean soup in the freezer. How about that and a tomato sandwich?”

  The mention of the simple fare made Amie’s stomach rumble, and she smiled. “Tomato, mayo, salt and pepper?”

  “Is there any other way?” Aunt Sally winked.

  “Not in my book.” Amie opened the freezer and reached for the clearly marked container. “Do you want to eat outside?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “If you want to go out, I’ll bring everything when it’s ready.”

  Aunt Sally kissed her cheek. “A lady could get used to this spoiling.”

>   “If you think having someone heating premade soup and slicing a tomato for a sandwich is being spoiled, then you’ve lived a deprived life.” Amie tossed the comment out lightly, knowing Aunt Sally and Uncle Hank indulged each other for their entire marriage.

  “I’ll be outside if you need me. I already have a glass of tea on the deck.”

  Twenty minutes later—thawing the soup over a low flame on the stovetop took longer than microwaving it but retained a heartier taste when heated—Amie carried two plates on a large serving tray to the deck. The sun had lowered dramatically since she’d gone inside, and the automatic lights came on in the encroaching darkness. She set the dishes on the table between the two Adirondack chairs.

  They ate in silence. Hidden behind nearby shrubs and in manicured grass, crickets sang their nightly song. Every few minutes, the flashing light of a firefly hinted toward summer’s arrival.

  Aunt Sally wore a contemplative expression that morphed into one of sadness. “This was Hank’s favorite time of the day.”

  “I remember walking down the pathway and sitting by the lake with him until you’d call me in for bed.”

  “He treasured those times. When your mama was a young one, he’d do the same with her.” Aunt Sally swiped at a wayward tear. “The good Lord never gave us children of our own, but Hank looked at all the nieces, nephews, and foster kids over the years as his own.”

  “Can I ask a question?” Amie hesitated, uncomfortable with the nature of her inquiry, but needing to know.

  “Yes.”

  “Were you ever bitter at God for not giving you children?”

  “Oh honey, I’d love to tell you I wasn’t, but I struggled with bitterness for years.” A distant look shadowed Aunt Sally’s eyes. “I’ve not shared this with many people, but there came a point when Hank and I almost separated because of my anger toward God.”

  “How did you move beyond it?” Bending her knees, Amie tucked her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.