Blackbird Lake (32 page)

To Hodge’s disgust, his wife had sided with the girl unequivocally.

After that, Hodge had been so wound up, he hadn’t even wanted any of Joanie’s award-winning cherry-rhubarb pie for dessert. Not that she’d been too eager to give him any.

Instead he’d gone on a long walk. He’d come home good and winded and downed a glass of scotch before he had to listen to Joanie lecture him like some ten-year-old for a good half hour.

Now he looked the source of all the trouble over carefully. The boy had been unfailingly polite, but there was a mix of both youthful cockiness and manly resolution beneath the controlled surface. Hodge didn’t like weakness or kiss-asses any more than he liked criminals, so his estimation of the boy slid up a notch or two.

“Where you taking her on that date?” he asked gruffly.

“Lickety Split.” Brady cocked an eyebrow. “I promised her a double decker sundae. It’s pretty well lit and usually crowded in there so we can’t get into too much trouble, sir.”

“We’ll see about that. You’d better not hurt her.”

“I’d never do that.”

The sheriff let out his breath. “It took some guts to come in here and I respect that. But if you don’t treat my granddaughter right…” He let the words trail off meaningfully.

“That’ll never be a problem, sir.” The boy had the nerve to grin as he started toward the door with long, youthful strides. “You have my word. I’ll let you get back to work now, Sheriff. Be sure to give my best to Mrs. Hodge.”

He was gone before Teddy even had time to glare at his back.

Cocky young bastard. But…strong, too. Plenty of determination in that one.

Farraday had said all the right things. He’d better mean ’em. Because otherwise that young man might just find himself up to his ears in traffic tickets and jaywalking citations and whatever else Teddy could find to throw at him and make his life a living hell.

A satisfied smile touched his lips as he glanced down at the computer screen where a new batch of evidence reports had just popped up. He pushed the Farraday kid from his mind and got back to work.

Carly stared out the window, filled with wonder as Jake’s truck rumbled past a pair of mountain goats straggling along the old jeep road. The largest hawk she’d ever seen wheeled overhead, its great wings seeming to sweep in slow motion as it circled the peaks of the Crazies.

They’d seen plenty of wildlife, tall waving grasses, and sweeping hillsides of pine and fir, but they hadn’t glimpsed another soul or vehicle since leaving Coyote Road.

She, Jake, and the mountain goats might have been alone in the wild vastness of Montana.

Then they cleared a rise and she saw the valley—and the tiny cabin ahead.

It looks like something out of an oil painting, Carly thought. Small, quaint, old as the trees, and beautiful. The cabin was dwarfed by a flank of huge ponderosa pines to the right, and in the distance, the jutting crests of the Crazies. A short distance beyond it, a lake glimmered like a beautiful jewel.

Blackbird Lake.

She’d heard it mentioned many times but had never seen
it before now. The sun glinting on the lovely rippling water dazzled her almost as much as the weathered cabin. So did the great open spaces stretching in all directions. Jake had explained to her that they were on private land—Tanner land—a quarter mile from the Half Moon Campground and other public access roads leading into the rugged heart of the mountains and the alpine lakes nestled among them.

“So this is what you wanted to show me,” she murmured, feeling like she’d fallen under a spell, hurtled back in time to a quieter, more peaceful place.

“The lake and…my grandparents’ cabin.”

She turned to him, surprised. “Your grandparents lived here?”

“From the day they were married. My grandfather left parcels of land to all the grandkids, but the largest was the acreage where I built my own cabins.”

“Were you his favorite?”

“That’s what I always told Rafe, Travis, and Lissie.” He shot her a sideways grin.

A laugh burst from her. “How long did your grandparents live there?” She studied the small log structure as the truck bumped its way over the rough road.

“More than fifty-five years. They built it when they married, and raised three children there, including my father. Grandma Mae passed first, and a year later to the day, Grandpa Samuel’s heart gave out. Lissie went through the place inch by inch. She catalogued and stored all of our grandmother’s things and has shared them with Sophie and Mia over the years. We’ve cleaned out the cabin pretty much, but left some of the original furnishings. I thought you might want to see it.”

“Yes, I do. Very much.” Carly was fascinated by the sense of history the Tanners shared. “I don’t have anything to help me remember my parents. After my mother died, my relatives must have taken whatever belongings she had. They probably felt they had it coming as payment for taking me in.”

“Do you have good memories of her?”

“Oh, yes,” she said softly. “I remember her brushing my hair, braiding it very gently. Reading me stories every night. Looking back, I remember we didn’t have very much, but she always told me we had each other, and that mattered the most.”

“A wise woman. Like her daughter.”

As they rumbled closer to the cabin, awe filled her at the history of this Montana land, of this family. Not to mention this small cabin—preserved, honored, respected. It had been treasured in Jake’s family for three generations.

“I envy all the touchstones you have with your past.”

“We’re pretty lucky that way.” Jake glanced at her. “I always took it for granted. Rafe never did. Travis, either. But I always had something in me that compelled me to roam. My grandfather called it a twitch of the soul. On the other hand,” he said with a smile, “for a girl raised as something of a tumbleweed, you’ve got a talent for putting down roots.”

“Now, that’s ironic,” she murmured. “A tumbleweed. That’s how I’ve thought about you. You have all this to anchor you, and yet you wander far from home. Once I found my home here, I knew I didn’t want to ever leave it.”

“You
made
a home here.” Jake put the truck in park twenty yards from the cabin and turned to look at her. “You came here knowing only Martha, and you made a home for our daughter. You gave her a place to belong. You did it all alone, and—”

“Not all alone,” she protested, blushing. “I learned about home from Annie. She taught me what it meant to be safe, loved, cared for from the time I was ten. And I wanted that for Emma more than anything. I wanted her to have those things from the very start. I couldn’t bear the thought that she’d ever feel—” She broke off, her chest so tight with emotion it was difficult to find the words.

“Abandoned? Adrift?” Jake asked softly.

“Yes. That’s it exactly. I never wanted her to feel unwanted. As if she didn’t belong anywhere…or to anyone. Thanks to Martha, neither of us ever did. And
Lonesome Way welcomed us with wide-open arms. From the moment we came here, I knew that if anything ever happened to me, Martha would be there for Emma and that your family would be, too. They’d take her in, love her.”

Suddenly she spoke quickly, unburdening herself of the last secret she’d kept from him.

“I have a will, Jake. It explains that Emma is your daughter, that she’s a Tanner. If something ever happened to
me
, I wanted to be sure she’d have Martha and your family to take her in and care about her. I wanted the Tanners to know her from the very beginning. I…I wanted them to care about her. After only a few weeks in Lonesome Way it was obvious that your family sticks together, so I was sure that if something ever happened to me, and my will was read, they’d love her, accept her. Look after her, not just out of obligation…but…”

Her voice wavered, and Jake swallowed hard.

“Aw, Carly. Damn. I wish I’d known. I know that night I never gave you any reason to think I cared a damn about anyone other than myself, but I did…I do….”

“I know that, Jake.
Now.
” Impulsively, she brought her hand to his cheek. “I knew you were a good man, but I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt when it came to Emma. It never even occurred to me. I was so convinced that the little I knew about you was all there was. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“It’s my fault, Carly, not yours. You did great. You were under stress, alone, and look at all you’ve done. The life you’ve built for Emma here, it’s amazing. Now it’s my turn to show you how important she is to me. How important—”

He broke off suddenly, thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say. “Come on inside. I want to show you the cabin. Then we’ll have our picnic before I get you back to the shop.”

But as they walked up the uneven path to the door of the cabin, she couldn’t help wondering what he’d stopped himself from saying.

How important
she
was to him? Could that have been it?
But he’d changed the subject, rather than say the words. He didn’t want to say them. Because he didn’t mean them.

Jake wasn’t a man to say things he didn’t mean, or to make promises he couldn’t keep. He hadn’t said the words because he didn’t feel them, or he wasn’t ready…or sure….

The wind blew softly through the trees as he unlocked the cabin door. She tucked away her foolish hopes, swallowed back the taste of disappointment sticking in her throat, and followed him inside.

The cabin was small and dusty, but orderly. Only five small rooms, two of them bedrooms, but the tiny home, despite the mustiness, still retained a delightful charm and sense of warmth. There was an old woodstove in the kitchen, a fireplace, and an old-fashioned hickory sofa with worn plaid cushions in the parlor. The larger bedroom boasted a rocking chair, a dresser with a music box atop it, and an old-fashioned iron headboard on the double bed Jake’s grandparents had shared. The carved dresser was made of wood and there was a lovely oval mirror above it. While running her fingers across the carved wood dresser, she noticed an old brass trunk against one wall.

Some antique paintings, including a color-soaked scene of a sunset above rolling hills and one of a woman in bustled skirts and holding a parasol, adorned the parlor walls.

“It couldn’t be any more charming, Jake.” She tried to take in everything. The faded gingham curtains, which looked like they’d been recently washed, the old milk pitcher on the kitchen counter. “They were happy here. I can sense it.”

“Yeah, they were. That’s how I remember them. Real happy.”

He joined her at the side of his grandparents’ bed, narrow by today’s standards. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you while we’re here.”

He clasped both of her hands in his.

“This cabin will belong to Emma one day. I’m leaving it to her, just as my grandfather left it to me. And I want her
to have that music box—it belonged to her great-grandmother. As soon as she’s old enough to understand and take care of it, I’m planning to give it to her.”

For a moment she was too astonished to speak. First shock, then happiness rose in her. She’d sensed that Jake was taking Emma into his heart, but this told her more. He was solidifying her connection to his family in the deepest way. Linking her to all the Tanners who had come before and who would come after.

Knowing that Emma would forever have that connection calmed something deep inside her. For an instant, Carly almost thought she heard the music box playing. A slow, lilting waltz…

“That’s amazing, Jake. Thank you. I—”

“Don’t thank me. I should be the one thanking you. For our daughter.”

After they stepped outside, he scooped up the picnic basket and a checkered blanket from the back of the truck. “I fell in love with Emma almost from the first time I met her. Who wouldn’t?”

“She is easy to love, isn’t she?”

Carly’s throat thickened. Jake loved Emma. A vast sense of relief engulfed her. Emma had a father who truly loved her, a father as well as a mother dedicated to her happiness. She had to blink back tears as they picked their way down the embankment behind the cabin and walked toward the lake.

While Jake spread out the blanket, she looked over at the dark, silver-edged water. The lake glimmered, cool and inviting. A sparkling gem nestled amid thick wild grasses, surrounded by soaring pines, a whirl of crimson and gold leaves, and guarded by the spectacular rocky peaks of the Crazy Mountains in the distance.

On the opposite shore another embankment rose, this one steeper, rockier, and thicker with trees and brush. She caught a glimpse of a beaver making its way to the lake to drink.

“It’s so quiet here. So peaceful.” It seemed as if they were
a thousand miles away from everything. She’d almost forgotten about the break-in. Almost.

She unpacked the picnic lunch, setting out cold meat loaf sandwiches, potato salad, two apples, and half of a chocolate chip banana cake she’d baked yesterday morning before work. It was Annie’s recipe and indescribably delicious. Of course, she usually served it warm, with chocolate chip ice cream, but today—well, today, she decided everything tasted as perfect as it could be.

This entire day would be perfect, she reflected, if she could only forget completely about someone sneaking through her house yesterday—and the unsettling possibility that perhaps the same person might be following Madison.