this? Damned if he’d apologize for doing what he’d wanted for months, he said something he shouldn’t have and walked away.
A week later Brianna’s mysterious illness got a diagnosis and it turned their world upside down. Nothing else seemed to matter. Anne had never mentioned their kisses again. Under the circumstances he sure as hell wasn’t about to bring them up, and their easygoing friendship had never been restored.
Honor mixed with guilt and disappointment could make a guy do crazy things, like after Bri died, he took off in the opposite direction for Europe instead of heading to Oregon to where Anne was. And life had a way of throwing those mistakes in your face. He’d lost his good buddy Anne, the girl with all the possibilities, and he hadn’t come close to falling in love with anyone since.
There were a million things he’d like to talk to Anne about, but he didn’t have a clue how or where to start. He knew he owed her an apology for the crazy mixed messages he’d given her, and for that bomb he’d dropped just before Bri had died. And if her reaction to seeing him was any indication, he wasn’t sure she was the least bit interested in seeing him again.
Jack grimaced and noticed a couple students with raised eyebrows watching him deep in his battling thoughts. He homed in on the ringleader—a girl whom he suspected had a crush on him.
“Amy, are you ready to read your essay?” He used his benevolent teacher voice, the kind that usually got good results. She shook her head with hummingbird speed.
All curious gazes went back to the desks.
After he visited Kieran Grady that afternoon in the hospital, maybe he’d pay a visit to Beverly … and Anne.
“Lucas, we understand. You’ll get home as soon as you can. What’s a few more days?” Anne said, sitting at her mother’s bedside mindlessly running her toes over the dog’s bristly brown coat. Lucas was undergoing some army discharge testing in Washington, D.C., and kept extending his ETA. “Dad’s doing as well as can be expected considering how banged up he is. I talked to him yesterday and I’ll go see him tomorrow. Mom’s doing fine, too. She’s resting right now. You want to talk to her?”
Beverly lay sprawled on her bed, pink-casted arm elevated above her heart on pillows, and with Bart, her rescued Rhodesian Ridgeback who was too big for the bed, laying dutifully on the rug. With the body of a boxer on steroids and a face more in line with a lab, he was one good-looking doggie, and the newest family addition since their official empty nest.
“I don’t want to wake her,” Lucas said.
He’d been evasive whenever the topic of conversation turned to how he was doing. The last few times they’d spoken, Anne had gotten the impression he wasn’t being completely honest about something. “She’s not really asleep. Here she is,” Anne said, gently pressing her mother’s shoulder.
“Anne!”
She smiled at the sound so clear in her mind. Lucas’s tone had transported her back in time.
“It’s Lucas.” She handed the phone to her sleepy mother, whose face brightened at the sound of her son’s name.
Also leaving home right after high school, her brother had completed nine years in the army and, resisting the constant carrot they dangled to keep the medics re-upping, he would finally be discharged in a couple weeks. Thank heavens. Lucas had seen more desert and suffering than he’d ever dreamed, and now would come home to yet another mess—Mom and Dad fresh out of a motorcycle-versus-car accident and both in casts. Comparatively speaking, it should be a walk in the park.
A light tapping pulled Anne out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen door. And out of pure nosiness Bart’s paws clacked down the hall behind her. When she opened it, someone stood behind a huge, colorful bouquet.
“Mrs. G., how are you?” Anne recognized the squeaky voice and grinned. Jocelyn Howard peeked around the corner and beamed from the other side of the flowers. “Annie, when did you get home?”
“Monday.” They gave an ardent but awkward hug with the huge vase between them, as a warm homey feeling crept over Anne. When she’d left Whispering Oaks, she’d never wanted to come back, but she’d forgotten all the wonderful people who still lived here. How often did she get greeted in Portland with such genuine enthusiasm? “Come on, mom’s down in her room.”
Holding the vase and flowers didn’t prevent Jocelyn from greeting Bart, and he made a happy humming sound from the attention.
Jocelyn had lived next door to the Gradys her entire life and felt like an honorary member of the family. She’d been like a little sister to Anne before Lark had been born, had been Lucas’s first play pal until he’d started kindergarten and left her behind for boys.
They reached the bedroom just as Beverly hung up the phone.
Taller than average, Jocelyn, with her long legs and slim runner’s body, leaned over the bed and kissed Anne’s mother. Her straight, light brown hair veiled her pointy profile. “Oh, Mrs. Grady, I’m so sorry to hear about your accident. Anything you need, you just let me know.”
“You are such a dear.” Beverly kissed her and patted her arm. “Oh, look at those gorgeous flowers!”
“They’re from my mom’s rose garden.” Jocelyn set them on the bedside table next to the window. The waning March sun barely reached the peach and cranberry colored petals, but their potent scent invaded Anne’s nostrils in a burst. They reminded her of her new home, Portland, The City of Roses, and she wondered how the medical clinic was doing without her.
“I’m serious. I’m right next door. If you need an extra pair of hands or some caregiver time off—” She glanced over her shoulder toward Anne. “—I’m glad to help.” She poured some water for Beverly, then sat on the edge of her bed and chatted with her. Bart, though wary of the cast, sat at attention and looked on as if he understood every word.
“How’s Mr. Grady doing?”
“He’s grousing about this accident happening during track season.” Anne leaned forward, rubbing Bart’s long nose. “You miss your big guy, don’t you,” she cooed through puckered lips, gazing into earnest brown eyes. He offered his paw. She shook it.
“I don’t blame him. We’ve got a shot at league finals this year.” Jocelyn turned to Anne. “Did you know that I’m his assistant coach?”
“You’re kidding, since when?” Anne felt out of the loop, with a tinge of hurt. When had her parents quit trying to keep her up on the comings and goings of her hometown? Maybe around the same time she’d stopped showing the least bit of interest?
“Since I transferred from Imperial to Whispering Oaks last year.” So Jocelyn had moved back to her alma mater from their crosstown rival school.
“Well, Dad always expected great things from you on that track field. You made up for the poor excuse for athletes Lark and I were.”
Jocelyn tilted her head and toed the braided rug on the hardwood floor. “You guys weren’t as bad as you think, and Lucas was fast.”
“Oh, yeah, he was always good at running away from things.” Her sisterly dig fell flat. She’d forgotten how Jocelyn had always idolized Lucas, and suspected if he’d paid more attention to her, she would have fallen for him. Probably had anyway. And
