Half Moon Hill (22 page)

Even as Anna took Christy Knight’s hand, she knew her eyes had widened. Because she knew who Christy Knight was. Her parents had died in a fire that had traumatized Logan last summer. And she felt an instant kinship with her, much as she had with Duke. This girl knew about loss, too. “I’m . . . Anna Romo,” she replied softly, wondering if Christy would know her name, as well.

“Oh. Wow,” Christy said, giving Anna her answer.

And the two of them stood there looking at each other for a moment, until Christy said, “I know who you are,” at the exact same time Anna said, “I know what you’ve been through.”

They both laughed then, a bit nervously perhaps, until Christy went on. “I was already back in Cincinnati, living with friends, by the time you came home last summer. But I heard about it, and I remember thinking how hard that must be.” Then she gave Anna a quick once-over, appearing almost incredulous. “Though . . . you look like you’re doing great!”

Anna offered a soft smile. “It’s been . . . a process,” she explained. “One that’s still ongoing. But yeah, all in all, things are getting better all the time.”

“That’s wonderful,” Christy said, though in addition to the sincerity in her voice, Anna also heard a little sadness.

“Are you back in Destiny to stay?” Anna asked, curious.

But Christy was quick to shake her head. “Oh—no. I’m just here for a garden party over the weekend at Miss Ellie’s—do you know her?”

Anna nodded. Miss Ellie was the town’s elderly unofficial matriarch, and her home on Blue Valley Lake, Anna had been told, was the site of lots of outdoor get-togethers. She’d received an invitation to this weekend’s party, too, and hadn’t yet decided whether to go. “Yes. I’ve met her a time or two.”

“For some reason, it seemed important to Amy and Logan that I come. Both of them called me about it, and Amy e-mailed me a couple of times, too. I guess they’re just trying to make sure I feel included or something—which is nice. And I came a few days early, just to tie up some loose ends.”

When that same tinge of sadness returned to her voice for the last part, it compelled Anna to ask, “And you? How are
you
doing?”

It tightened Anna’s chest to see poor Christy still trying to smile, though it was clearly a strain. “It’s . . . a difficult time.”

Given that she’d lost her parents over a year ago, it worried Anna to think she was still suffering so much that it showed. “I . . . know I’m not Amy,” she said, “but I’m willing to listen. I feel like you and I . . . understand each other, given that we’ve both lost a lot.”

At this, Christy boldly raised her eyes to Anna’s, almost as if searching them. “How did you do it? How did you deal with everything so well? I mean, you seem . . . so together.”

“Well, first of all, I might not be quite as together as you think—but I find that sometimes acting the part sort of . . . helps it become real. And second, when you feel like you’ve lost everything, you just . . . go on. Somehow. You just do it. Because that’s all there is to do. You figure out what works for you, what keeps you functioning, how you can best get through it. And you just . . . know there’s sunshine beyond the clouds.”

When the hint of a smile formed on Christy’s face, Anna laughed at herself. “Oh God, that last part was corny, I know.”

Yet Christy shook her head. “No—I kind of liked it. It’s a nice idea. And maybe up to now I’ve just been sort of . . . wallowing. In my sadness. In my fear. In my lack of direction. But . . . I’m going to try to do what you said—figure out what works for me. And concentrate on moving toward the sun. So thank you.”

Anna shook her head. “I didn’t do anything really.”

“Yes you did,” Christy informed her. “You said just the right thing when I most needed it. You know, I love Amy to death, but . . . maybe I’m glad you were here today instead.”

D
uke wasn’t particularly comfortable with where he was. Geographically or otherwise.

Why again had he agreed to go to Lucky’s house when he wasn’t at all sure he was ready to explain all this or see anyone? He should have said exactly what he would have said before the accident—something like,
Gonna have to cancel that, babe, ’cause I’m not up for it
. Since when did he let anyone make his decisions for him?

And why had he agreed to meet Anna at the bookstore right on the town square? Yeah, it would have been out of her way to come back home when she got off work, but so what? She was the one who had organized this little party, so why was he catering to her? She’d gotten pretty damn pushy—aw hell, she’d been pretty damn pushy all along—and it would have served her right if he’d not shown up.

But he
had
shown up, and as he walked toward Under the Covers—a pale green building decked out in flower boxes and looking just a little too damn cheerful for his liking—he tried to keep a low profile. He kept his hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, his eyes to the sidewalk before him. He wished he were back at the house installing the new windows he’d started working on a couple of days ago. It was damn hard work to do by himself with that many windows—but easier than this, being in the middle of Destiny when he didn’t want to be. Shit, he hoped nobody would see him. And though he’d probably grow his goatee back at some point, it made him kind of glad he’d stayed clean-shaven for now and that his haircut was so different than before. Since he didn’t know most people in Destiny that well, he figured it made him all the less recognizable.

As he ambled toward the bookstore from the spot where he’d parked his bike in front of the bank, he found himself thinking back over his past—his romantic past. The truth was—he hadn’t had a lot of romance in his life. Women, yes. Sex, plenty. But romance—who had the time for it, and who wanted to be tied down by it? He seldom had. And he’d not missed it.

Even when Lucky had fallen for Tessa, even when they’d been drinking beer one night last summer out at Lucky’s place just before his wedding, and he’d asked Duke if he’d ever been in love.

Duke had just looked at him. “Nope, and can’t say that I care to be if it makes you start asking dopey questions like that.”

“You
think
you don’t want it,” Lucky had said, “and God knows I never thought I did, either. I mean, I just never thought much about it. But when it happens, man—when you go there—” He’d stopped, shook his head. “You just can’t even imagine what it feels like.”

“A trap?” Duke had been quick to sarcastically reply.

Lucky had taken another drink from his longneck and said, “Best damn trap in the world then, dude.”

They’d been on Lucky’s deck, woods all around them, crickets chirping, the steady sound of Whisper Falls in the distance, and for a brief moment, Duke had actually been jealous.

But he’d gotten over it, fast. Lucky might need that kind of tie, that kind of bond with somebody—but Duke didn’t.

Only now . . . he couldn’t keep from asking himself—was he falling in love with Anna Romo? He instinctively shook his head at the mere thought as he walked—but that didn’t take away the question.

No other woman had ever made him feel . . . so powerful and so weak at the same time. No other woman had ever made him just . . . want to spend time with her, whether it was in bed or out. And he might try to deny it, to himself, to her, to anyone else who would ask, but everything about her fascinated him. The way her mind worked. The way she had so many different sides to her. The way she faced her troubles head on—she didn’t give up on things and go running away somewhere. Maybe she had run to Half Moon Hill, but at least she’d done it with a plan, some ambition. Sure, she drove him a little crazy on occasion, but the more time went on, the more he realized that he thought the world of her.

And hell, if he was in love with her, well, maybe that explained why he’d agreed to see Lucky and Tessa tonight, ready or not. And though the idea of loving her scared him to death . . . well, he could see an upside. He could see what Lucky meant about it being a good sort of trap—even if the very idea of staying trapped went against his grain.

Or . . . maybe this wasn’t love at all. Maybe he was jumping the gun on that. Maybe it was best to just . . . ride this out, see where it led.

But love or not, the one thing he knew for sure was that she was different from anyone he’d ever known, and she . . . inspired him. To be better. To face things. To come out of the woods—even if he wasn’t ready to stay out for good, even if something kept drawing him back there, at least for now.

It wasn’t yet six, closing time for the bookshop, so he slid onto a bench just outside to wait. It was a beautiful day out, the kind when even he had to admit he was glad to be alive.
And that doesn’t have any damn thing to do with Daisy, either.
Even if he’d almost found himself wishing she was at home today, helping him, when he’d stood outside nailing the first double window into the front of the house, then shimming and insulating it. Even if he was looking forward to showing it to her tomorrow, since they’d probably get home after dark tonight.

That was when he tuned into voices, coming from inside the bookstore. Anna and another woman talking. He had no idea who the other woman was or what she had been through—he only knew he heard Anna saying encouraging things, about pushing on, and functioning, and sunshine.

And damn, he had to admire her. He just had to. Because she’d been through shit just as bad as anybody else. Worse maybe, because a situation like hers—well, he imagined it had to screw with your head, that there was probably a lot of temptation for anger and “what if”-ing the situation to death. He knew about playing the “what if?” game—and he’d learned it was useless and only made you focus on everything that had gone wrong instead of what had gone right, even if there was very little of that second part sometimes. But Anna—she was just . . . out there, living, being, doing. She was rebuilding her life, piece by piece, just as he was helping rebuild her home.

And so, in that moment, he tried to . . . take her words to heart. He tried to think forward to a time when things might feel a little normal again. He tried to remember that guy he used to be—that guy who had his shit together and didn’t let anything get in his way or knock him down. And then, just for a few seconds, he tried to think about who he might be able to become.

He knew from Lucky that not everyone in town had instantly warmed to Anna—he supposed last summer she hadn’t exactly been as warm and fuzzy as most people in Destiny. But he couldn’t help thinking maybe they’d all forgotten what she’d been through just because they hadn’t been there for it. He knew what it was like to have heavy baggage no one else understood. And he thought she carried hers damn well.

A few minutes later, a young blonde exited the store and all went quiet inside. And he thought about going in but decided to just wait outside, keep soaking up the day, and let Anna have a little alone time in case she needed it the same way he still did.

When she came out, she looked . . . drop-dead gorgeous in a black belted tank and a long animal-print skirt, more like the kind of clothes he’d seen her in last summer. Spotting him on the bench, she smiled. “Hey. Been here long?”

He shook his head, and despite not wanting to look too excited to see her, he had a hard time not smiling back.

“Figured we’d take my car to Lucky and Tessa’s, and pick your bike up here on the way back home.”

Home
, she’d said. Like she thought of it as his home now, too. But he only replied, “Sounds fine.” Then added, “About time I got a ride in that Mustang, girl.”

“Come on—I’m parked in Amy’s spot in back,” she told him, still all smiles, and he was more than happy to duck out of sight with her as they walked around behind the building.

“You’ll be happy to know,” she went on, “that I used my time between customers today to decide on a siding color.”

“And?” he asked as they headed toward the vintage car, its top already down.

“Well, I kept thinking blue, blue, blue. Because it’s warm. And cozy. But then I kept coming back to yellow—you know, the buttery shade we looked at. Imagine that with white trim, but also a little peach mixed in for some of the gingerbread. That just feels happy and cheerful and inviting to me. And I think people want that, don’t you? Just to feel happy. And welcomed.”

They’d both gotten in the car now, and he was about to reply—when she kept right on talking. “And I also sort of imagined a sign out front with a golden half moon on it. I’m not sure yet what the rest of the sign would look like, but I just thought the moon would feel like . . . a beacon or something.” Finally, she stopped talking and gave her head a short shake. “God, wait—I know that sounded corny. Why am I so corny today? Anyway, the yellow—I’ve decided on the yellow. What do you think?”

And Duke barely knew
what
to think. Except that she still looked so damn pretty he wanted to kiss her. But he didn’t. Because maybe he didn’t want to seem so damn caught up in her, right here and now, for no particular reason. And besides, maybe he still wanted to be irritated with her for shoving him into tonight. Though it was getting harder and harder when she was so happy. “I think it’s a good choice, Daisy,” he said. “It’ll look great.”

And when her eyes lit joyfully, it stunned him to think she valued his approval that much. An idea that caused a twinge in his gut. And another in his groin.

“I’m glad you think so, because it’s been a tough choice, and you know the house nearly as well as I do now, so your opinion is important to me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so excited,” he told her, because she sounded downright exuberant at the moment.

She tilted her head, flashed a look that said:
Oh, come on.

So he corrected himself. “Well, okay—I’ve never seen you so . . . chatty.” Then he tried, just a little, to be annoyed again. “Could barely get a word in edgewise if I wanted to.”

But she just rolled her eyes and laughed. “Guess seeing the outside repairs is just finally making it seem real to me. And I
am
getting excited. In a chatty way,” she added with a wink and another giggle.