that she needed to read the words. She’d committed them to memory a long time ago. Still, it comforted her to read them now.
She and Trevor had loved one another, though not, she’d begun to see at some point, the way two people united in marriage should love. Maybe they’d both thought they needed someone to belong to. Still, they’d been committed to the vows they’d made before God.
She knew what she had to do. She had to learn the truth about Trevor, so that she could accept it and move on. She and little Sarah Grace could then be a family. They’d be enough for each other.
The baby had been quiet while she’d sat, perhaps soothed by the gentle rocking motion. The chair felt as if it had been put here for just this purpose.
But as she closed the Bible and leaned forward to set it on the convenient lamp table, the baby gave several hard kicks. Susannah patted the spot.
“Take it easy, little one. Everything’s all right.”
At least, everything would be all right once she’d done what she’d come here to do. And Nathan Sloane’s opposition wouldn’t stop her.
The memory she’d been holding at bay slid into her mind, and Nathan’s frowning face was superimposed on the view of lake and mountain. That moment in the library when they’d touched hands and seemed to touch souls—where had that come from? She knew very little of Nathan, and she didn’t like what she did know. She certainly didn’t feel any attraction for him.
An accident. That’s all it had been. An accidental rush of pregnancy hormones, probably. Nothing more. Still, it might be as well to avoid him, for a number of reasons.
She didn’t have to go to Nathan for the answers she needed. Jen could give her access to the registration information, and Daniel, with his kind, observant eyes, might know something of what Trevor had done here, although she’d have to reveal who she was in order to ask.
She stood, hand on the chair arm to steady herself. Pregnancy had affected her balance more than she’d have dreamed it would.
First things first. Today was Saturday, so Jen might be working the registration desk since she wouldn’t be in school. She would start there.
When she drove into the parking area at the lodge a few minutes later, she realized that Nathan’s comment about leaf watchers arriving on the weekend had been accurate. Cars filled the small lot, and several people in hiking clothes came down the steps as she went up.
The teenage girl she’d met the day before was indeed behind the desk. She wore a sulky expression as she handed a map to an elderly couple, and her black sweater and pants, spiky haircut and dark nail polish seemed designed to announce that she didn’t belong here.
Susannah had to hide her smile. No doubt Jen considered her plight unique, and she’d be offended if anyone pointed out that teenagers had been rebelling in the same way for generations.
She waited until the hikers departed, then approached the registration desk. “Hi. I see you’re busy working again today.”
The girl rolled her eyes in mute protest. “Always. You need something?”
If she wanted to prolong the conversation, she’d better think of something. “I’m going into Lakemont this afternoon. Can you recommend a place for lunch?”
The girl pulled a brochure from a rack and spread it on the counter. With a dark purple nail she tapped the sketch map it contained. “This shows the main drag. Kids say the sandwiches are good at the Fresh Bread Café. I haven’t tried them myself.”
Susannah lifted her brows questioningly. “You haven’t?”
Jen shrugged. “I’ve only been staying at the lodge a couple weeks.” She caught a flash of vulnerability in the girl’s heavily mascaraed eyes. “I probably won’t be here much longer.”
“Going back home, are you?”
As soon as the question was out, she knew she’d made a mistake. Jen’s face stiffened, and she shrugged thin shoulders. She shoved the brochure toward Susannah without a word.
This was not going as well as she’d hoped. Jen probably needed a friend, but she obviously didn’t consider Susannah a candidate.
“Well, I’ll try that café for lunch. Thanks.”
“At least you’ll get lunch.” The girl seemed to give in to the urge to complain. “I’ve been working on the desk all morning, but does anyone give me a break so I can have something to eat? Oh, no.”
Opportunity opened a door, and Susannah stepped through without a second thought. “That’s really a shame. I’d be glad to watch the desk for a few minutes so you can run and grab a sandwich.”
Jen wavered. “I shouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t Nathan like it?” She should be ashamed of herself, jumping to the conclusion that Nathan’s autocratic ways would be a source of friction.
“Nathan’s not the boss of me,” Jen flared instantly. She motioned to Susannah to come behind the counter. “Probably nobody will show up while I’m gone, but if they do, the reservations are right here in this file, and guests just sign the book and fill out one of these cards.”
It was an old-fashioned register with names and dates. She just needed a few minutes alone to take a look.
Jen rounded the counter, then paused. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” She had grace enough to feel guilty, but the girl had vanished in an instant through a swinging door at the rear of the hallway.
The hall was still and empty. She couldn’t hear anything but a muted clatter of china from somewhere in the back. She wouldn’t have a better opportunity than this.
She swiveled the register toward her, noting dates as she flipped the pages back. The lodge had been busy over the summer, less so in the spring. She found the right page. Her stomach clenched as she identified Trevor’s neat writing at the bottom of the page.
Nearly a week. He’d been at the lodge for nearly a week, which meant he’d never gone to Boston at all. The faint hope that he’d just stopped at the lodge on the way home from Boston vanished.
She glanced up the page and felt a wave of nausea. There was another entry.
Trevor had been here two weeks earlier than the trip she knew about, for two days that time. Hands shaking, she tried to turn the page back to seek any earlier listings.
“What are you doing?” Nathan’s voice, resounding from the stairwell above her, hit her like a blow.
She heard his footsteps approach as her mind scrambled for an explanation, any explanation that might satisfy him. She arranged a smile on her face and turned toward him.
“I was just…” The words died in her throat as she caught sight of Nathan.
A khaki uniform. A dark tie, worn with a badge and official emblem. She read the words emblazoned on the uniform, stomach twisting.
Nathan
