“She runs three times a week with her sisters. Did you know she has two sisters living here? Michaela’s so lucky to have aunts.”
“Michaela tell you all this?”
“Yep. And other stuff.”
“Such as?”
His daughter laughed. “No way. I’ll tell when you tell.”
“Like I said—”
“You’ll tell me when the time’s right.”
“Smart girl. Now, let’s find us a mailbox.”
“And a birdhouse?” Becky tossed a saucy look as she pushed open the door of the store, tinkling its bells.
“One birdhouse coming up.”
Anything to keep questions about Addie out of his daughter’s radar range. The girl was far too perceptive. Ah, just own up, Skip. You aren’t ready to disclose that part of your past yet.
Nor would he contemplate the possibility that, since he’d moved within a short jog of Addie’s door, his feet might be getting a tad cold.
Sweat ran down Addie’s ribs and spine and between her breasts. Today she led her sisters. Usually it was Kat, then Lee, then Addie. But after seeing Skip at the library, she needed to push harder than ever. She needed to outrun the memories.
Right, and when has that ever happened? You even married a man who resembled Skip. Dark hair, honey eyes.
God, she’d made so many foolish, foolish decisions.
In a groove now, she paced herself, breathing through her mouth and lengthening her stride, yet maintaining a slower pace. Wednesday was always their long run, nine miles around Silver Lake in the middle of the island, while on Monday and Saturday they ran the ocean shoreline.
Initially, it had been Addie and her middle sister, Kat, outrunning stress and grief. Lovely, dark-haired Kat, who’d lost her husband in a boating accident while Addie still had nightmares over her lost baby, never mind her problems with Dempsey.
Then their eldest sister Lee returned, lugging a heart full of baggage to the island, and running had become as necessary as water to the trio.
“So,” Lee said, coming abreast with Addie. “Where’s the fire?”
“No fire.” She kept her eyes on the forested trail ahead.
“Yeah? At this pace we’ll be finishing the lake run in twenty minutes, not our normal ninety.”
Addie checked her watch as they passed the ancient sequoia. Seven minutes too fast; she slowed her pace.
Behind them, Kat asked, “This about Skip Dalton?”
“What about him?” Lee asked.
Addie said, “Kat thinks because he’s moved in across the road from me I’m running to escape.”
“Are you?” they asked in unison.
“No. Where he lives is not my concern. What he does is not my concern. Who he does it with is not my concern.”
“Really?” Kat’s chuckle drifted between Addie and Lee.
“You seem to be mighty vocal about the whole thing for him not to be your concern, honey.”
“Did you see him today?” Lee asked as they emerged from the woods and started down the path along the lakeshore. “Is that why you’re upset?”
“I’m not upset.”
At least not anymore.
Not since they’d begun their run. In the library she believed Skip had deliberately tracked her down, but then Michaela told Addie on the way to Charmaine’s house that Becky had wanted to say hi and get a library card.
Addie couldn’t fault the girl. She was polite and kind, and Michaela liked her. A lot. Which scared Addie. Her daughter hooking up with Becky meant Skip and Addie were doomed to each other’s company.
Beneath her feet the ground was spongy, the track easy; in her lungs the air was fragrant with pine and moss and lake water. She had trekked this trail with Skip when she was fifteen. He had kissed her here when she was sixteen, and around the next bend seven months later he had made love to her for the first time under a soft August moon, in the back of his pickup.
“I wish it was a bed,” he’d whispered. And she’d whispered in return, “I’m glad it’s just you and me and the moon.”
Silly romantic fool, that’s what she’d been.
“Addie?” Lee’s voice plunged her back to the present. “’Fess up. What gives? You’ve been a bear with a sore paw for more than a week.”
“Fine.” Before they made the bend and The Spot, she slammed to a halt. “Here’s the deal. I’m scared.”
Lee yanked the bandana from her thick, curly red ponytail, and wiped her neck. “Of Skip?”
“Yes, of Skip.”
Kat, always the hugger, put her arms around Addie. “Honey, why on earth would you be scared of him?”
Lee rolled her eyes. “Not of him, of herself.”
“Is that it?” her middle sister asked.
Addie nodded. “He’s right across the road. I’ll not only see him at school, but I’ll see him when I’m home. I’ll see his car in his driveway…or him doing something in his yard—building mailboxes and birdhouses—”
“Birdhouses?” her sisters parroted.
“Becky told Michaela they were getting a birdhouse today.”
“Why is that scary?” Kat wanted to know.
“I don’t know.” Hands on her hips, Addie hung her head and blew out a breath. “Because it’s homey. It means they’re staying.”
“But you already knew that, Addie.” As eldest, Lee had learned early to be the logical one. “You knew when he took on Coach’s job.”
Both sisters studied her.
“You still have feelings for him,” Lee observed.
“Not at all.”
“Oh, Addie.” Kat, the peacekeeper, the nurturer.
Backing away, Addie held up her palms. “Don’t start with the ‘Oh, Addie.’ I’m over him, all right? I haven’t thought of Skip Dalton in years.” She turned to run the trail again.
“Sheesh, you’re just like Mom,” Kat called after her.
“Mom’s got nothing to do with
