illuminated the line of the roof, climbing the walls like vines, tracing the outlines of linen-covered tables.
The place was packed. The people of Anslow loved an occasion—weddings, graduations, fund-raisers—they kept finery that would not have been out of place in New York City for these community events.
There were no speeches, just a dinner followed by a clearing of the tables, a bar being set up, a band taking their places on the raised stage at one end of the room.
He introduced Angie to people who had been his family and his friends and his neighbors since he was six years old.
They welcomed him into the fold of their lives as if he was a soldier who had been away from home for too long. They extended their acceptance of him to Angie. But almost too much so! He could not get near the woman he had escorted to the dance.
She quickly became the belle of the ball. For the first set, every old geezer in Anslow had to claim a dance with her. By the second set, the young men who had been fortifying their courage at the bar were jostling to have a turn around the hall with her.
Angie, amazing in that dress, was an astonishing dancer. Her movements were fluid and natural and unconsciously sensual. Her laughter carried through the hall. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were radiant. She was a princess, casting an enchantment.
Watching her, dance, watching her shine, Jefferson had a sense of having done the right thing. This is what she had led him to again and again since she had arrived at his door.
She required him to do the right thing. She forced him to be a better man.
And then, for the third set, he wearied of all the attention being paid to her and went and claimed her for his own. When Gerry Mack tried to cut in, he told him no. By the time the fourth and final set of the evening arrived, no one was trying to cut in anymore.
They danced until their feet ached. They danced until they could hardly breathe. They danced until the last dance, when he held her tight, rested his chin on the top of her head and realized something had happened that he thought would never happen again.
He was happy.
The evening broke up, and the poor old horse and carriage could not keep up with people flocking down to the dock, so he and Angie walked along the boardwalk, hand in hand. The night was filled with the laughter and chatter of the crowds. They were not the only ones walking.
As they turned at the entrance of the dock, a flurry of farewells filled the air.
“So good to see you, Jefferson. Angie, nice to meet you.”
“Safe journey over the water, Jeff. Angie, thank you for coming.”
Finally, he helped her into the boat and settled her in her seat. He went and got the blanket from below and tucked it over her shoulders.
“They love you,” Angie said, tugging the blanket around herself. She was glowing.
He contemplated her words. How right it seemed for the word love to have floated into the enchantment that was tonight.
He started the engine, put on the running lights, backed away from the dock and pointed the nose of his boat toward the dark main body of water of Kootenay Lake. Driving at night was extraordinarily beautiful, but it held some extra challenges.
“Jefferson?”
He turned his focus from the water, looked at her.
“They love you. And so do I.”
For the second time that night, it felt as if his breath had quit and his heart had stopped. What was he doing? Hadn’t he known all along this is where it was going?
“They only think they love me,” he told her. “And so do you.”
“No,” she said stubbornly.
Rather than respond, he checked for other boats leaving the harbor and, seeing none, opened up the throttle. Everybody only thought they loved him. If only they knew how unworthy he was.
He realized he could give the boat all the gas he wanted, but he could not go fast enough to outrun what had to be done.
He had to tell her. He had to put this to a stop right now, before he undid every bit of good the past two weeks had done for her.
He didn’t respond to her at first. He drove them over the quiet lake—so much of it now held memories of their times together—and pulled into the cove where they had taken refuge from the storm. He stopped the boat and put out the anchor.
The boat rocked gently. The night air was as warm as an embrace. He could still hear voices and laughter drifting over the lake. Angie sat looking at him, the dress a dream around her, so beautiful it made him ache.
“It is a perfect night,” she said. “Or would be if I had ice cream.”
It had been. It had been a perfect night. But it wasn’t going to be anymore. Because every good memory he had of this night would be overridden by what was going to happen next. This was the night it was all going to end.
“I have to tell you something,” Jefferson said quietly.
I HAVE TO tell you something.
It seemed to Angie as if every horrible event of her whole life had begun with those words.
Her mother looking at her with red, swollen eyes, her voice broken. “I have to tell you something. Your father and I are getting divorced. He moved out this morning.”
Harry, biting his lip and then looking away, before clearing his throat and saying in a firm voice, “I have to tell you something. It’s not good news, I’m afraid. I’m not happy. I can’t be happy here. I’ve met someone.”
Her father had met someone, too, not that she had known it at the time. If she had known, maybe she could have been more prepared for how her life was about to change.
And then Harry turned out to be exactly like her father, as if she could spot a philanderer across a crowded room, when what she was looking for was the exact opposite.
So, what did Jefferson have to tell her? Selfishly, she wished he would wait until morning. She did not want to end what had been one of the nicest nights of her life on a sour note! How cruel of him to park the boat in the middle of a lake where she had no option to run and hide once he had told her.
But that’s what she got for declaring her love. That’s what she got for being fearless when she was the person least inclined that way. Why hadn’t she just accepted who she was instead of pushing her boundaries?
“I had no right to enjoy tonight as much as I did,” Jefferson announced quietly.
She felt suddenly panicky. “You can spare me the details,” she said. “I think I can guess. You have a girlfriend tucked away somewhere, don’t you? I should have known, really. A man like you—so gorgeous and so much fun and so successful—could not possibly be
