“Why didn’t you tell us the truth about who you are, Mrs. Laine?”

He knew.

Susannah took a breath, trying to think, trying to organize some sort of response. What could she possibly say to Nathan that would make sense of her actions?

“I’m sorry about your husband’s death,” Nathan said after a moment. “The accident was a terrible thing.” His eyes were filled with sympathy. “But it wasn’t necessary to hide your identity from us. We wouldn’t intrude on your grief.” Nathan’s deep voice had gone very soft. He put his hand on her shoulder.

Warmth. Comfort. Hot tears stung her eyes. Susannah had an almost uncontrollable urge to step forward, lean against his strong shoulder and let her tears soak his shirt.

She took a deep breath and nodded, trying to swallow tears.

She couldn’t give in to that longing to lean on him. She couldn’t.

MARTA PERRY

has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book. She loves hearing from readers and will be glad to send a signed bookplate on request. She can be reached c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

True Devotion
Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.

—I John 4:7

This story is dedicated to my dear sister, Patricia,

her husband, Ed, and her beautiful family,

with much love.

And, as always, to Brian.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

Most people wouldn’t throw a pregnant woman out into the cold. But the October sun was warm, and Nathan Sloane wasn’t most people. The discovery that his unwanted renter was pregnant just made him more eager to be rid of her.

Nathan stood on the porch of the lakeside cottage, realizing he’d been staring for too long at the auburn-haired woman who’d opened the door to him. He glanced at the registration card in his hand.

“Ms. Morgan?”

She hesitated momentarily. “Yes.”

He tried to smile, but the tension that rode him probably made it look more like a grimace. “I’m Nathan Sloane. My father, Daniel, owns Sloane Lodge.”

She gave a brief nod, edging the door toward him slightly, as if ready to close it in his face. “Is something wrong, Mr. Sloane?”

“I’m afraid so.” Besides the fact that just being near the cottage rubbed his nerves raw. “My stepsister made an error when she rented the cottage to you.”

The woman opened the door a bit wider, letting the autumn sunlight hit her face. It turned her hair to bronze and caught the gold flecks in eyes as deeply green as the hemlocks on the hillside across the lake.

It also showed the purple circles under those eyes, marring her fair skin. She looked like someone who’d been fighting a losing battle with insomnia.

“I don’t understand,” she said, frowning as if he’d just told her that her credit card had been rejected. “What sort of an error?”

Again he tried the smile. “We’re getting ready to winterize the cottages. In fact, my father will be closing the lodge for the season before long.” He hoped. “So you see, I’ll have to ask you to make other arrangements.”

“The person who checked me in earlier didn’t say anything about that.” She didn’t look particularly impressed by the explanation he’d rehearsed.

He spared an irritated thought for his stepsister. “Apparently Jennifer didn’t understand. The cottage is not available to rent at all. And certainly not for an entire month at this time of the year.”

Her lips tightened. “That’s impossible. I’ve already rented it.”

He didn’t seem to be getting very far. “Perhaps you’d like to move into the main lodge for a few days until you find something else. Or we’d be glad to call around for alternative accommodations for you.”

The woman’s fingers were white where they clutched the edge of the door. She released it abruptly. “You’d better come inside.”

She walked away from the door, giving him no choice but to follow her. If he clenched his jaw any tighter, it would shatter.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience…” he began.

“It’s more than inconvenient.”

The woman stood turned away from him, staring out the windows of the small living room that fronted on the lake. She was so slender that from this angle she didn’t even appear to be expecting. Irrationally, he found that made it easier to deal with her.

“I do apologize.” He tried to express a warmth he didn’t feel.

Get the woman out—that was what he had to do right now. No others were rented. Then he could shut the cottages and persuade his father to close the lodge early for the winter. Maybe by spring he’d have been able to convince his stubborn father that a man who’d narrowly survived one heart attack shouldn’t court another by refusing to retire.

Ms. Morgan turned toward him, and for a moment her figure was silhouetted against the windows, her hands pressed against her stomach.

The image hit him like a blow. He saw Linda standing in front of those same windows, head thrown back in laughter as she pressed her hands to her swelling belly.

No. He fought the grief that threatened to overwhelm him. This woman was nothing like Linda. Linda had been gentleness and warmth. This woman was all chilly, sharp edges. He wouldn’t let her remind him.

He forced himself to concentrate on her words, shutting out everything else.

“As I said, it’s not a question of inconvenience. We have an agreement.” Even her smile had an edge to it. “I don’t intend to leave.”

“An agreement?” He lifted his brows. “I don’t recall signing a lease with you, Ms. Morgan.”

She didn’t look intimidated.

“There’s no need for a formal lease in this situation. The person who was operating as your agent checked me in and gave me the keys to this cottage. In my opinion, we have a legally binding agreement.”

He suspected his eyebrows went even higher. “You’re an attorney.”

She wasn’t just a nuisance. She was an intelligent nuisance who wouldn’t let him gain the slightest advantage.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

He glanced at the address on the registration card in his hand.

“What’s a Philadelphia lawyer doing in a place like Lakemont in October?”

Pregnant. And alone, obviously, in spite of the gold band and large matching diamond on her left hand.

“I’m sure Sloane Lodge gets its share of tourists who come to admire the autumn leaves, doesn’t it?” She put that hand up to push back a lock of auburn hair that had strayed onto her cheek.

“Leaf peepers generally come on the weekends. And if you’ll forgive my saying so, you don’t look the type.”

She certainly didn’t fit his idea of the kind of person who’d settle down in a rustic cottage on a smallish lake in the Pocono Mountains to watch the leaves change colors. Every inch of her, from the burnished auburn hair to the black outfit to the expensive and impractical shoes, shrieked urban professional.

She shrugged. “Let’s say I’m looking for quiet and let it go at that.”

Too bad he couldn’t import a few bulldozers to increase the decibel level.

“Look, Ms. Morgan, surely we can resolve this in a way that suits both of us.”

“As far as I’m concerned, this is resolved.”

He tried not to look around at the cottage that was only too familiar to him—living room and kitchen downstairs, with a deck over the lake. Two bedrooms and a bath up the narrow stairs, still decorated in the casual country charm Linda had insisted upon.

And he’d certainly better not think about the master bedroom, with its quilt-covered king-size bed situated to give a view out over the lake immediately on waking.

“This place is too isolated for a pregnant woman alone.” The words were like poison on his tongue, and a fierce anger rose in him that she’d pushed him into saying them. “You ought to have someone around.”

Her face tightened, the skin drawing bleakly against her high cheekbones. “Frankly, whether I’m alone or not is none of your business. And if you try to evict me because I’m pregnant, you’ll be borrowing more trouble than you’ll know what to do with.”

He’d gone too far, obviously. He tried to tamp down his emotions. “I’m not saying anything of the kind. I’m just asking that you be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” Lightning seemed to spark from her eyes.

His choice of words had been a mistake. He raised his hands, palms outward. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’d just like to persuade you that you’d be more comfortable elsewhere.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable.” She rubbed her arms on the sleeves of the loose black sweater she wore, as if chilled, then nodded toward the still-open door. “I am, however, a little tired of this conversation. So if you don’t mind…”

Short of removing the woman bodily, he didn’t have many options. It was clearly time to beat a strategic retreat. He nodded with as much grace as he could muster and went to the door.

He paused once he reached the porch. “We’ll talk again later.”

“I won’t have changed my mind.” The door snapped shut behind him.

He took the two steps off the porch and started down the lane toward the lodge. At least he could breathe again, once he was away from the cottage.

Ms. Susannah Morgan clearly thought she’d won that round. He grimaced. Well, maybe she had.

But that didn’t mean he was giving up. For a lot of reasons, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d convinced Susannah Morgan that she didn’t belong here.

Several hours had passed, and Susannah still wasn’t sure why she’d reacted so vehemently to Nathan Sloane’s presence earlier. She closed the cottage door and stood on the porch for a moment, struggling to zip her jacket.

You’re getting bigger, little one. She smoothed her hand over the rounded bulge. I just wish…

What did she wish? That she’d taken Sloane’s offer and moved into the lodge, putting off an argument until another day?

There was no real reason she couldn’t move into the main building. Her reason for being here required that she stay at Sloane Lodge, but not necessarily in the cottage.

Still, when she’d walked into the cottage, tired and stressed from the trip, a sense of peace had come over her. She’d moved slowly around the small rooms, letting the feeling seep into her very bones, feeling a comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time. She didn’t want to give that up for Nathan Sloane’s arbitrary decision.

She touched the porch railing, noticing the window boxes on the windows and the ladder-back rockers on the tiny porch. Someone had taken a lot of trouble with the cottage. It was a happy place. A place where perhaps, in spite of the disturbing situation that had brought her to Sloane Lodge, she could find the peace that had eluded her for months.

She started up the lane toward the lodge. In spite of Nathan’s comments about the cottage being isolated, it really wasn’t that far—certainly not more than a quarter of a mile. It would be pleasant to walk on this brisk evening, and the doctor had told her to walk.

Trees spangled with russet and golden leaves lined the lane, but the rounded mountain ridge on the far side of the lake hadn’t given up its deep green color yet. Still, the season was turning. What had once seemed like an endless year moved inexorably on. In a month and a half their baby would arrive, another milestone of life without Trevor.

Why did you do it? The question she’d asked so often burst out of hiding again. Why, Trevor? I know our marriage wasn’t perfect, but I did think we were honest with each other. Why did you lie to me about where you were going? Why did you come to this place?

Any answers Trevor might have given had died with him in the car accident. If she were to find out what had brought Trevor to Sloane Lodge in Lakemont, instead of to the business conference in Boston he’d told her he was attending, she’d have to do it herself.

And she’d have to do it here. If the answers were anywhere, they were at Sloane Lodge.

Only one month. That was all she had before her obstetrician insisted she not travel. One month in which to learn the truth.

The trees gave way to a thick clump of rhododendrons, their glossy leaves hiding the foundation of the lodge. She rounded the building, heading for the door she’d used when she’d gone inside to register. Maybe there was a back entrance from the cottages, but she didn’t feel inclined to search for it in the gathering dusk.

The sprawling frame-and-shingle building stretched a wide porch across its front, and welcoming light spilled from the many-paned windows.

She thought again of Nathan Sloane’s reaction to her presence. That had been anything but welcoming.

She’d probably see him again at dinner. Bracing herself for the idea of conflict, she mounted the steps and entered the lodge.

Once she was inside the wide front hallway with its bentwood coat racks and curly maple bench, the registration desk lured her. Access to the lodge’s records would tell her exactly how long Trevor had stayed before he died and whether that had been his only trip to the lodge. Barren information, probably, but more than she knew now.

But there was no chance to explore. Even now, someone approached from the shadowy rear of the hall.

“You must be Ms. Morgan.”

For an instant, before the man stepped into the pool of light from the hall chandelier, she thought the tall figure was Nathan. But this was a much older man, presumably his father. The two men had the same lean, square-jawed face, the same high forehead, the same piercing dark eyes and level brows.

But where Nathan’s face was guarded, this man’s was open and friendly. Where Nathan’s gaze had been antagonistic, his father’s radiated welcome.

“Yes, I’m Susannah Morgan.” She took the hand he extended, feeling strength and calluses—the hand of a man who worked hard despite his age.

“Daniel Sloane. Welcome to the lodge. Let me show you into the dining room.”

Apparently Daniel had no problems with her presence. He didn’t seem in the same hurry his son was to close for the winter. He took her arm as gently as if she were made of crystal, guiding her through the archway to the left of the registration desk.

“How lovely.”

She paused, glancing from the wall of windows with their view of the lake to the fire that crackled in a massive stone fireplace. Eight or ten round white-linen-covered tables dotted the wide-planked floor. Sloane Lodge might be small, but it was also charming.

“We like it.” Her escort looked around, too. His expression was…not pride, exactly. She sought to pin it down. Satisfaction, that was it.

Daniel Sloane looked like a man who had found his place in the world. He was what Nathan might be in thirty years or so, but with an inner peace that shone in his face.

“Now, let’s find a seat for you.” He moved as if to lead her toward a table where several older couples chatted with the ease of long acquaintance. “I’ll introduce you to a few people.”

“No. Thank you.” She’d have to start talking with people here if she was going to learn anything, but she wasn’t quite ready to do that yet. She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m a bit tired from the drive.”

“Of course.” He was instantly solicitous. “I get carried away sometimes. Take this table by the window, where you can have a nice, quiet meal.” He pulled out a chair for her. “One of the servers will be with you in a moment.”

When he’d gone, she looked around cautiously. She’d like to assume Nathan had given up his efforts, but she couldn’t quite convince herself of that.

His face loomed in her mind, rigid with determination. He was like the rocky cliff that reared behind the lodge—solid and immovable. Not a man who’d easily give up once he’d decided something. And what he’d decided, unfortunately, was that he wanted her out of here.

Her gaze reached the archway and stopped. Nathan Sloane walked quickly through from the hall. The slightest check in his step when he saw her just confirmed what she already knew. The man had an instant reaction to her, and it certainly wasn’t a positive one.

Big, broad shouldered, muscular—he probably often got what he wanted just through the sheer force of his presence. Well, not with her. She faced down worse than Nathan Sloane in Philadelphia courtrooms.

At least, for the moment, he didn’t seem to plan on approaching her. He joined his father at a table in the corner, and she let out a small sigh of relief. She really wasn’t up to another battle with the man tonight.

She’d been too angry to see it before, but he’d changed. She toyed with her salad, looking back across the years. Nathan wouldn’t remember, but she’d met him once before.

She’d been an unhappy ten-year-old, shipped off to stay with Trevor’s family for a few weeks at the vacation home they’d owned on the lake. Nathan had been a teenager then, working as a lifeguard at the lake, with no time to notice a pouting child.

Still, through some odd fluke of memory, she could picture him clearly—tall, tanned, laughing and carefree. The center of every group.

He’d changed.

Well, she had, too. Life had a way of doing that to people.

By the time she’d finished her chicken, weariness was taking a firm grip on her. Even Daniel’s announcement that dessert and coffee would be served in the lounge couldn’t tempt her. She’d planned to slip out quietly and make an early night of it. Tomorrow would be time enough to think of plans.

She’d reached the hallway when she heard a step behind her and felt a light touch on her arm.

“Ms. Morgan.”

Morgan. She’d better keep in mind that she’d registered under the maiden name she still used professionally. Given her mother-in-law’s tearful opposition to any inquiry into what Trevor had been doing in Lakemont, that precaution had seemed wise.

Besides, if you didn’t know what you were going to find, you’d better tread cautiously. That advice worked both in the courtroom and in life.

She turned slowly to give Nathan an inquiring look, trying not to be intimidated by his frown.

“I hope you’ve had a chance to reconsider your plans,” he said.

He was nothing if not persistent. Annoyingly so. The kind of person who, if you gave an inch, took a mile. If she tried to pacify him by moving into the main lodge, he’d undoubtedly consider it a step toward getting her out entirely.

She pasted a smile on her lips. “There’s nothing to reconsider. I’m very comfortable in the cottage.”

Daniel came up behind his son just in time to hear her, and he nodded with satisfaction. “Good. We’re happy to have you there.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “That wasn’t the impression your son gave me.”

The flash of anger in Nathan’s eyes told her the shot had gone home. She should be ashamed of giving in to the desire to annoy him, but she wasn’t. He hadn’t had any compunction about harassing her, had he?

Nathan battled to force the anger back under his usual strict control. He wouldn’t give Susannah Morgan the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten under his skin, and he couldn’t let his father be upset.

“Nathan?” His father’s frowning gaze was troubled and questioning.

“Ms. Morgan misunderstood,” he said quickly. If the woman had any sense at all, she’d heed the warning in his voice. “I was simply concerned about her staying at the cottage alone, that’s all.”

His father turned to Ms. Morgan with quick concern. “We’d be glad to move you into a room here in the lodge. No trouble at all.”

Trouble. Trouble was rushing Dad to the hospital in the middle of the night, not knowing whether the next breath he took would be his last. If he could just get Dad to understand he had to take it easy…

Well, that was a problem for another day. For now, he’d be content with convincing Ms. Morgan to leave his father out of their disagreement.

He focused on the conversation between the two of them, realizing with exasperation that his soft-hearted father was already feeling sorry for Susannah. The next thing he knew, Daniel would be adopting her as another one of his strays.

Look at the way he’d taken Jennifer in without question, even though he wasn’t responsible for a stepchild he barely knew. Daniel would keep the lodge open all winter if it meant taking care of one of his lost chicks.

That wasn’t going to happen. Determination hardened in him. He’d better detach Ms. Susannah Morgan from his father now.

He summoned up a smile. “Why don’t you let me show you around the lodge before you go back to the cottage. I’m sure Jen didn’t take the time to do that when you checked in.” Before she could think up an argument, he took her arm. “The library is down this hall.”

For just an instant he felt her resist. Then she nodded and fell into step with him.

He sensed his father’s smiling glance, and he shrugged it off irritably. Dad was too susceptible to anyone he thought needed his protection. Susannah Morgan, in spite of her shadowed eyes and fragile appearance, was well able to stand up for herself.

“This is the library.” He led her into the cozy, book-lined room.

She took a step away from him, holding out her hands to the fire burning in the small corner fireplace. “Very nice.” She spoke quickly, as if to head off whatever else he might say. “You mentioned Jen. Is she the person who checked me in this afternoon?”

“That’s right.” He hadn’t brought her in here to talk about Jen.

“So you have quite a family operation here, with your sister working the registration desk and your father running the lodge.”

“Stepsister,” he corrected. “She just helps out after school.” And then only when someone stood over her and forced her to.

“Stepsister.” She seemed intent on keeping the conversation on Jen, of all people. “Does her mother help with the lodge, as well?”

His jaw felt ready to shatter. “No.” He clipped off the word. “She divorced my father several years ago.”

She swung to face him, the firelight burnishing her auburn hair. “I’m sorry.” She seemed to assess the oddity of the situation and come to a conclusion. “Your father is a kind person.”

“Yes. He is.” He gritted his teeth, determined to say whatever was necessary to keep her away from his father. “He’s also not well. He barely survived a serious heart attack last winter.”

The green eyes he’d been thinking cold and untouchable warmed with emotion. “I’m so sorry. That must have been terrible for both of you.”

She reached out toward him. He had no thought of responding to her sympathy, but he found himself taking her hand in his. His gaze locked with hers as their hands met.

The moment seemed to freeze. Nothing moved. Nothing broke the quiet except the crackle of the fire and her quick, indrawn breath.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the feeling. Nothing was happening.

He dropped her hand, clearing his throat. He had to finish what he’d set out to do.

“I hope you can understand why I’m trying to make things easier for him. He never should have opened the lodge at all this season.”

If Susannah had been affected by that moment, she didn’t show it. She tilted her head to the side, looking at him. “He certainly seems to enjoy what he’s doing.”

He considered telling her that she knew nothing at all about his father. But he was trying to gain her cooperation, not sabotage his own efforts.

“That’s beside the point. He needs to take the time to recuperate.”

“Is that what his doctor advises?”

He gritted his teeth. “It’s nice of you to be concerned.”

“Meaning I should mind my own business?” She lifted perfectly arched brows.

“I didn’t say that.” He held on to his temper with an effort. “These next couple of weekends will probably be the last for the foliage tourists. After that I’m sure I can convince him to close for the season and get the rest he needs. It’s going to be a little hard to do that if we still have a guest.”

“I understand your concern for your father.” She looked at him for a long moment, as if assessing the truth of his words. He thought he detected sympathy behind the coolness in her eyes. “I don’t want to leave, but I will.”

Before he could feel relief, she went on. “When the rest of your guests leave, I will, too.”

Her expression said he’d have to be content with that.

Chapter Two

Lord, why is this such a struggle? Susannah sat in the wing-backed rocking chair by the cottage window the next day, Bible in her lap, looking out across the lake. Am I ever going to find peace with Trevor’s death?

No, that wasn’t the right question. She fought to be honest in her prayer. She could come to terms with his death. It was the lie she couldn’t deal with. Why had Trevor lied to her?

It always came back to that. No matter what else might have been wrong with their marriage, she’d always thought she and Trevor were honest with each other. They’d been friends since childhood. Shouldn’t she have known when he’d started lying to her?

Her gaze rested on the familiar passage to which she’d opened the Bible.

“Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.”

Not 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 Sloane was Lakemont’s chief of police. The scribbled signature at the bottom of the accident report crystallized in her mind. She hadn’t made the connection, and she should have. Nathan was the man who’d investigated Trevor’s accident.

Nathan couldn’t mistake the expression in Susannah’s eyes. He moved slowly to the counter, weighing it. Perfectly innocent people sometimes looked guilty when surprised by a police officer. He wouldn’t have thought twice about that.

But Susannah had reflected more than just guilt. She’d been totally dismayed at the sight of him, and he wanted to know why.

“What are you doing?” he repeated.

He could hardly cross-examine one of his father’s guests, but he had a right to know why she was behind the registration counter. And why she’d been looking at the guest register. She’d quickly put it down at the sound of his approach, but not before he’d seen her searching through the listings.

“Here, you mean?” She straightened the register, aligning it with the edge of the desk. “Jen hadn’t had a chance to get her lunch yet, so I said I’d keep an eye on the desk while she went to get something to eat.” Her smile failed to reach her eyes.

Frustration with his stepsister nearly outweighed his curiosity about Susannah. The least Jen could do was help out while she was here.

“Someone would have come to relieve her in a few minutes. She certainly shouldn’t have imposed on a guest.”

“It’s not an imposition. I offered.” Susannah started around the counter, the loose russet jacket she wore swinging against her body. “Now that you’re here, I suppose you want to take over.” She eyed his uniform. “Or are you off to a different job?”

“I do have to go on duty before long.” He took a casual step so that he boxed her in between the counter, the stairwell and his body. “I guess you didn’t know I’m a police officer.”

She’d regained most of her composure, but her hands were still clenched tightly. As if aware of that, she shoved them into her pockets.

“Not just any officer.” She nodded toward his insignia. “I see you’re the chief of police. I’m impressed.”

For the first time, he felt like smiling naturally at her. “Don’t be too impressed. In a town like Lakemont, that just means I have two patrolmen and a dispatcher working for me. If any police business actually happens, we all have to get involved.”

For some reason, that upped her tension. He could feel it, but he didn’t understand.

“I see.” She seemed to be talking at random, as if to cover something else. “I suppose that means you don’t spend much time at the lodge.”

“I’m here as much as possible. After all, I do live here.” He leaned closer, letting that movement intimidate. “I notice you’re interested in our guest register.”

If he hadn’t been so close, he might have missed the way her lips tightened.

She managed an unconvincing smile. “I’m afraid I was just curious as to how busy the lodge is.”

Neither of them believed that, but he wasn’t ready to contest her statement. Yet.

“Busy enough,” he said. “We don’t do the business of some of the larger resorts in the Poconos, but Dad likes it that way.”

“Speaking of busy, I see Jen is back from lunch.” She took advantage of his turning to look to slip past him. “I’m running into town this afternoon, so I’ll be on my way.”

Someone less suspicious than he was might not have noticed how quickly she scurried toward the front door, as if afraid he might have more questions. Which he did.

He turned back to frown at Jen as she slid behind the counter without looking at him, as if that might make him disappear. He had to deal with his stepsister, but now wasn’t the time.

He saw again Susannah’s head, coppery in the sunlight slanting through the window, bent over the register. What had the woman been up to?

He went quickly out the front door and stopped at the edge of the drive. Susannah drove past him toward the main road. Those were Pennsylvania plates on her car, and it wasn’t a rental. He memorized the number.

Susannah Morgan was hiding something. Whatever her secret was, it had made her uncomfortable with the discovery that he was a cop. It had also prompted her to snoop through the registration log.

He intended to know exactly what that secret was.

“Really, Enid, I’m just fine. Did you help at the charity bazaar this week?”

Susannah held the phone slightly away from her ear while her mother-in-law, distracted, chattered on about the hospital auxiliary bazaar. Enid thought she was visiting with an old college friend, and she had to keep it that way.

Susannah smoothed her hand over the spot where the baby was kicking. She hated lying to Enid, who’d been a part of her life ever since she could remember. But dear, warmhearted Enid had to be protected from anything that might distress her. Her husband and son had always done that, and apparently she was destined to follow the same pattern.

Certainly her mother-in-law would be upset at the knowledge that Susannah had come to the lake to investigate Trevor’s lies. Enid refused to believe they were lies. She’d convinced herself that they’d all simply misunderstood.

So here she was, caught in the trap of hiding the truth to make Enid feel better.

“Goodness, I’ve been talking too long.” Enid interrupted herself. “How are you feeling? How’s the baby?”

“We’re both fine. Don’t worry about us.”

“Are you having a good time with your friend?”

“Yes, just fine.” The knock at the door was a welcome reprieve from expanding on her fable. “I have to go now. I’ll call you again in a couple of days.”

She hung up, levered herself out of the rocker and went to the door.

“Nathan.”

Another person she was lying to. Apparently once she’d started, there was no escape.

He nodded toward the living room. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Of course not.” But she did.

She stood back, holding the door open. Somehow she’d known their conversation earlier hadn’t been the end of it. He’d seen her looking at the register, and he wanted to know why. She stiffened to resist him.

He strolled into the living room, glancing around as if to notice any changes. Then he focused on her.

“Did you enjoy your visit to downtown Lakemont today?”

That certainly wasn’t the question she’d expected. He still wore the uniform, and its official aura seemed alien in the cozy room.

She pulled her sweater around her like a protective barrier. “It’s charming.”

Actually, the village was attractive, although that hadn’t been on her mind when she’d walked down the small main street. Instead she’d looked at one shop or restaurant after another.

Were you here, Trevor? Or here? What brought you to Lakemont?

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

He seemed to be reading her mind.

“I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I just wanted to see the town.”

She started to turn away from him, but his touch on her arm halted her. Nathan’s dark eyes were grave, his mouth firm. Her heart gave an awkward thud.

“Why didn’t you tell us the truth about who you are, Mrs. Laine?”

He knew.

She took a breath, trying to think, trying to organize some sort of response. What could she possibly say that would make sense of her actions?

“How did you find out who I am?” Stall. Think of some logical reason for being here other than the real one.

His broad shoulders moved under the uniform shirt. “It wasn’t hard.”

“Not for a police chief, you mean.” She felt a little spurt of anger. Nathan had used his position to find out who she was.

“I suppose so.” His eyes were filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry about your husband’s death. The accident was a terrible thing.”

Her throat tightened, the anger that had warmed her briefly seeping away. “Yes. It—it was hard to believe.”

“I can understand that.” Some darkening of his eyes suggested he knew what loss was. “But it wasn’t necessary to hide your identity from us. We wouldn’t intrude on your grief.”

Her mind took a moment to process that, and then she understood. Nathan wasn’t wondering what had brought her here. He thought he knew. He thought she had come to assuage her grief, the way people made pilgrimages to the sites of plane crashes.

In a way, perhaps she had, but he couldn’t know how complicated it was. And she certainly wouldn’t tell him.

“I appreciate that. I just thought it would be simpler if people didn’t know who I am. I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Is your mother-in-law planning to come, as well?”

A little flutter of panic went through her. She’d forgotten that Nathan and his family would have known Enid when she’d vacationed at the lake house.

“No, she’s not.” She had to tell him more than that. She couldn’t risk his deciding for some reason to contact Enid. “Enid has been having a very difficult time adjusting to Trevor’s death. She didn’t understand why I wanted to come here. In fact, the idea upset her so much that—well, I didn’t tell her.”

A guarded expression took over from the sympathy in his face. “She doesn’t know you’re here.”

“No. And I’d certainly appreciate it if you’d honor my wishes in this.”

For a long moment he just looked at her, eyes grave and assessing. A sudden crazy longing to tell him everything swept over her.

She couldn’t. She tamped down the feeling. She hadn’t told anyone except Enid, and that only because it had come out in the suddenness of her confusion and grief.

Determination hardened. She owed Trevor her loyalty. Whatever he’d been doing in Lakemont, he’d wanted it kept secret.

Nathan nodded slowly. “All right. I certainly won’t say anything, if that’s what you want. I’m afraid I’ve already told my father, though.”

“That’s fine. I don’t really mind who knows here in Lakemont, as long as Enid doesn’t find out. She doesn’t understand that I—”

Her voice seemed to give out, and hot tears stung her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Nathan’s deep voice had gone very soft. He put his hand on her shoulder.

Warmth. Comfort. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to step forward, lean against his strong shoulder and let her tears soak into his shirt.

She took a deep breath and nodded, trying to swallow the tears.

She couldn’t give in to that longing to lean on him. She couldn’t.

Nathan could feel Susannah’s tension and grief through his hand on her shoulder. It seemed to demand a response from him.

He let go abruptly, taking a step away from her. How could he not understand her grief, with the reminders of Linda and everything he had lost all around him?

He gave her a meaningless smile. “We want to do anything we can to make this easier for you.”

Something pained and vulnerable crossed her face. She’d reached out to him, and he’d responded with platitudes. That just added to his guilt.

“I appreciate that.” Her formal response showed that she’d gotten his message—he didn’t want to be involved.

It wasn’t Susannah’s fault that he resented her presence. She wasn’t to blame for the fact that she was the one person in the world whose situation released all the painful memories he’d tried so hard to repress.

Okay. He forced himself to think this situation through rationally. The truth was, he was stuck with the woman. If you were a police chief, part of your responsibility was dealing with people in grief. He’d handled that before. He could handle it now.

And then Susannah would go away and take her reminders with her.

“Do you want to ask me about the accident?” Survivors did, sometimes, as if understanding how a tragedy had occurred would make it easier to bear.

She shook her head, then cradled her hands across her stomach, seeming to take comfort from the child she was carrying.

“No, I don’t have any questions about that. When the police came to tell us, they explained that he’d apparently swerved to avoid a deer and lost control.”

“That’s right. Several passersby stopped right away to help, but there was nothing they could do.”

He shifted his weight, suppressing his longing to get out of there. He had to stay as long as she had questions for him.

But no longer than that. Someone like his father would probably know what to say to ease this for her. He didn’t.

The silence stretched, broken only by the tick of the mantel clock.

“Thank you.” She managed a smile. “I guess you think my coming here is odd.”

“Not really. People often want to see the place where an accident occurred, so they can understand and, well, move on with their healing.”

He hoped that sounded comforting. Maybe comfort was the reason she liked the cottage. He couldn’t deny the air of comfort it represented.

“You’d prefer I did that healing somewhere else.” Her direct gaze challenged him.

“I didn’t say that.” He’d thought it, but he hadn’t said it. “It has been six months, though.”

Anger flared in her eyes. “Meaning after six months I should be healed?”

“No, of course not.” He hadn’t healed after five years. “I just meant that—” He wasn’t doing this well at all. “I suppose I’d have expected you to come sooner, if you felt the need to.”

The anger faded, leaving her face pale and pinched. “I kept telling myself I didn’t need to come here. But eventually I realized that wasn’t true. I had to come.”

He wasn’t one to give advice on this subject, but he had to try. “You have the baby to consider.” Maybe if his child had survived—

She crossed her arms around herself, something fierce and maternal in the gesture. “My baby’s fine. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger her.”

Her movement cut him to the heart. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t cope with this woman’s trouble, not when it held a mirror up to his own.

He retreated a step. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

Her face tightened. “Thank you.” Her words were formal. “I can handle things on my own.”

It was the dismissal he’d been waiting for. He gave a brief nod and went out the door, trying not to act as if he were escaping from something.

Chapter Three

“Go in peace, and may the peace of God go with you.”

The minister’s benediction echoed through the high-ceilinged sanctuary of the small church and resounded in Susannah’s heart. Peace. Once again Lakemont seemed to bring her the peace that had been missing in her life for months.

She bent to pick up her coat and handbag from the burgundy pew pad, reluctant to face the probable curiosity of the congregation about the stranger in their midst. But her time here should be easier now that people knew who she was. She could ask questions about Trevor freely.

But she wouldn’t be asking any questions of Nathan.

She’d puzzled over his attitude since their conversation the day before, but she still hadn’t reached any conclusions. When he’d come into the cottage knowing who she was, he’d seemed sympathetic. But the longer they’d talked, the more edgy he’d become.

Finally it was as if he’d shut down. He’d been unable to relate to her any longer.

Some people were made uncomfortable by others’ grief. It could be that, but she didn’t quite believe the answer was that simple. She’d sensed some strong emotion moving behind his solid exterior. Whatever that feeling had been, he clearly hadn’t meant to share it with her.

She moved into the aisle, grasping the carved arm of the pew for balance. Her nerves came to attention. Nathan was just a few people ahead of her. He held his father’s arm, and a sulky Jen trailed behind them.

Nathan in a suit and tie might have looked oddly formal, since the man seemed to prefer jeans when he wasn’t in uniform, but that wasn’t the impression she got. His assured stance didn’t change no matter what he wore.

The line of people worked its way slowly back down the aisle toward the door. Everyone in the small sanctuary seemed determined to be friendly. Susannah had to stop every few feet to respond to introductions and welcoming words. She evaded invitations to come again and tried not to be aware that Nathan could probably hear every word she said.

What difference did that make? She wasn’t trying to impress Nathan Sloane.

Maybe not, but she couldn’t ignore him, either.

She reached the door at last and shook hands with the young pastor. When she stepped out into the sunshine, she found that the party from the lodge was waiting for her. Daniel came forward, hand outstretched.

“Glad you joined us at worship, Susannah. If we’d known you were coming, you could have ridden with us.”

The older man’s open, welcoming smile was a marked contrast to Nathan’s closed and shuttered expression. And to Jen’s totally bored look, for that matter.

“That’s kind of you. It was a lovely service. Your congregation is certainly friendly.” Except, possibly, for one member.

“We try to be.” Daniel, apparently feeling his son’s silence to be oppressive, gave him a sharp look. “You might like to join us for the potluck supper we’re having on Wednesday evening. You’d be more than welcome, and you don’t have to bring anything.”

Nathan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if eager to get moving. “I doubt Susannah’s interested in getting that involved with the church. Not that you’re not welcome,” he added, apparently feeling he’d sounded eager to be rid of her.

Which he was, as far as she could tell. She’d like to know why.

“Thank you. I’ll see how things are going by Wednesday.” She took a step away from them. “I think I’ll take a walk through town, as long as I’m here.”

“You know, maybe I’ll join you,” Daniel said.

“I thought you were going to relax and read the paper after church.” Nathan’s tone clearly conveyed disapproval.

“Later.” Daniel nodded cheerfully to his son. “You go ahead and take Jen home. I’ll ride back with Susannah.” He glanced at her with a smile. “If that’s all right with you.”

“I’d be happy for the company.”

She ignored Nathan’s frown. Daniel wouldn’t be maneuvering to be alone in her company unless he had something to say that he didn’t want the others to hear. Her pulse quickened. Something about Trevor’s visits to Lakemont?

Without waiting for any further response from his son, Daniel took her arm. He steered her away, leaving the other two looking after them.

The sidewalk led along the lakefront, with shops and restaurants lining the opposite side of the narrow street. Susannah looked out over the lake, seeing the gold and red of the turning leaves reflected in its mirrored surface.

“It’s a gorgeous day for a walk.” She glanced at the man next to her as Daniel matched his stride to hers. Remembering what Nathan had said about his heart attack, she slowed down a little.

“It is that.”

“But I have the feeling there’s something on your mind besides taking a stroll.”

His smile was very like Nathan’s. “Oh, I don’t know. A walk seemed like a good idea. My son’s too inclined to fuss over me.”

“He worries about you because he loves you. That’s a good thing.”

“It is.” His eyes twinkled. “Just a little irksome at times.”

“I suppose so.” She thought of her own efforts to escape Enid’s constant pampering. “My mother-in-law tends to do that to me.”

“Well, yes, Enid always did flutter, as I recall. I can understand why you don’t want her to know you’re here.”

They’d edged into the topic on her mind, and she tried to find a way to ask her questions. Maybe the only way was to come right out with it.

She stopped, hand on the railing that lined the walk. Daniel halted next her, leaning on the rail. A little farther along an intent young man focused his camera on the view of lake and mountains.

“Do you remember much about Trevor’s stay at the lodge in the spring?”

“Sure I do. It was a pleasure to see that boy again.” He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t suppose he’d have appreciated my calling him a boy, but that’s how I remember him. Trevor wasn’t a man yet when the family stopped coming here in the summer.”

“The vacation house burned down, didn’t it? I suppose that’s why they didn’t come back.”

“I guess that was it. Anyway, it was nice to see Trevor again.”

“What did he do while he was here?” She hesitated, wondering if she should try to explain that question in some way, but Daniel didn’t seem to think it odd.

“Well, I’m not sure I know exactly. He went into town most evenings, as I recall. Oh, and I know he went to the ruins of the old house.”

She frowned, trying to remember the last time Trevor had mentioned the vacation house. “Did he say why he wanted to see it?”

He shrugged. “Sentiment, I suppose. Or maybe he was thinking about rebuilding.”

“Maybe.” He’d have talked to Enid about that, surely.

She tried to picture Trevor walking around Lakemont in the evenings, tried to imagine him visiting the ruins of the place where he’d spent summers as a boy.

It didn’t seem to help much, but at least it gave her a place to start. She’d pay her own visit to whatever remained of the summerhouse.

Daniel patted her hand. “If you want to talk about him anytime, I’m here. We’d all like to help you.”

All but Nathan.

“I’m afraid I make your son uncomfortable.” The words were out before she considered that they might sound critical.

“Well, Nathan’s got his own set of problems.” He glanced at her, the look questioning. “You know about his wife, don’t you?”

“I didn’t know he was married.”

He nodded. “Married his high school sweetheart. He and Linda never seemed to have eyes for anyone else. She died five years ago.”

Shock jolted her, and she clung to the railing, the wood rough on her palm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” No wonder Nathan was edgy around her. “I suppose my being here, my grief, reminds him of his own loss.”

“Well, it’s not just that.” Daniel hesitated, the lines in his face deepening. He seemed reluctant to say something he knew he must. “The thing is, Nathan and Linda lived in the cottage you’re staying in. And she was pregnant when she died.”

The words hit her like a blow. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think.

Poor Nathan. No wonder he hated being in the cottage with her. Hated seeing her there.

“I—” She didn’t know what to say first. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Why did Jen put me in the cottage?”

“She didn’t know about Linda.” He shrugged. “And we do rent the cottage when someone wants it. It’s just unfortunate that—”

“That it happened to be me.” She shook her head, feeling a little nauseated. “How did his wife die? What happened to her?”

Sorrow carved deeper lines in his face. “The doctors said Linda had an undetected heart defect. One of those things that people never even know they have.” He paused. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but she and the baby both died.”

She rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the chill that settled into her bones. Or her heart. No wonder Nathan was so protective of his father after his heart attack.

“Should I move out of the cottage?”

Daniel’s gaze was troubled. “I thought so at first. But it seems as if having you there is making Nathan face his feelings instead of locking them away. That might be a good thing.”

“I can move into the lodge.” Her preference for the cottage paled in the face of this information.

“If you’re okay with it, maybe you ought to stay where you are. Maybe it’s better that way.” He put the words cautiously, as if he thought she might be upset at knowing the pregnant woman who’d lived there had died.

She was upset, but not out of any superstitious fear.

“All right. I’ll stay at the cottage for now, but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

He nodded, his face still troubled.

Poor Nathan.

The words repeated themselves in her mind. Was that what people were saying about her? She found she didn’t like the sound of it.

She understood. Of all the people in the world, she understood what Nathan was feeling.

That sense of intimate knowledge shook her. It might be better not to empathize so well. It might be safer for both of them.

Susannah had come to the lodge for breakfast the next morning because she couldn’t face staying alone at the cottage any longer. But even an excellent breakfast hadn’t dispelled the cloud that hung over her.

The dining room had emptied gradually. She was left alone with the server who was clearing tables.

She couldn’t dismiss Daniel’s words from her mind. Nathan’s young wife, and his child, wiped out of his life in a moment.

And how she was going to face Nathan again with this knowledge hovering in her consciousness—well, maybe it would be better if she didn’t see him for a while.

“More tea, Ms. Laine?” The server hovered over her, teapot at the ready. Laine. She’d given up the pretence once Nathan and his father knew the truth. She’d probably stand a better chance of finding something out this way, in any case.

“No, thanks, Rhoda.”

The woman nodded, returning the teapot to her tray and removing Susannah’s dishes deftly. Rhoda Welsh apparently did just about everything at the lodge. She was quick and efficient, and she certainly didn’t chatter. In fact, Susannah hadn’t seen her exchange more than a couple of words with anyone.

Susannah watched her idly. She was in her late thirties probably, with a fine-boned, impassive face that didn’t give anything away. She’d be an attractive woman if she weren’t so withdrawn.

“It’s quiet after the weekend, isn’t it?”

Rhoda looked startled to have a response expected of her. “I suppose so.” She set dishes on the tray. “Would you like anything else?”

The woman’s bland politeness seemed to repel further comment. The impulse Susannah had had to ask if she remembered Trevor withered away. What could the woman say, even if she bothered to answer?

“No, that’s all. Thank you.”

The woman slipped noiselessly away. Susannah picked up her jacket and bag and crossed the dining room. At least she had a destination in mind this morning.

As she pushed open the door, Nathan jogged up the stairs toward her. In fact, jogged did seem to be the operative word. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and his dark hair clung damply to his head. He wore sweats and sneakers, and he’d obviously been running.

He held the door for her. “Good morning. Where are you off to this morning?”

He was trying to be pleasant, and that had to cost him an effort.

“I’m planning to have a look at what’s left of the vacation house.” Because your father told me yesterday that Trevor did that when he was here. “I suppose Enid and I really ought to do something about the property.”

He frowned. “You can’t do that.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

He planted a large hand on the porch post, as if to bar her way. “I mean, you shouldn’t go over there. Not alone. The place is an overgrown mess.”

“All the more reason why I should have a look.” She brushed past him and started down the steps.

He followed her. “Look, I’m telling you, it’s not safe. They never did a proper job of razing the house. You shouldn’t be wandering around there—”

“Alone,” she finished for him, her voice tart. “I know. I get the message. I’ll be careful.” She started toward her car.

He caught her arm, turned her so that she faced the police cruiser, and opened the door.

She impaled him with her coolest stare. “Are you arresting me?”

“No, I’m taking you to the Laine house.” At her incredulous expression, he gave an exasperated sigh. “If you’re that determined to go, I’ll take you. I don’t want to have it on my conscience if you fall down and break an ankle. Can you wait until I shower?” He swung the towel from around his neck and wiped his face.

“I don’t need your help.” Well, that sounded petulant. She tried again. “I appreciate your offer, but I’ll be perfectly fine by myself.”

“Look, if you’re going, I’m going with you, so you may as well get in the car and save us both an argument.”

His face looked as if it had been carved from the same rock as the cliff above them. Clearly he didn’t intend to give an inch. If she drove alone, he’d probably follow her.

She slid into the front seat of the cruiser. With a nod that accepted her capitulation, he closed the door.

He got in and started the car while she surveyed the dash with its police radio.

“I’ve never been in a police cruiser before. It’s intimidating.”

His lips twitched. “You haven’t seemed too intimidated so far. Exactly the opposite, as a matter of fact.”

“That’s just because you’re overprotective. Ordinarily I’m perfectly agreeable.”

Fifteen minutes ago she’d been worrying about how she’d face him. Now they seemed to have reached a new level of communication, and she wasn’t sure why. Because she’d forgotten about his history while they were busy arguing?

Maybe. Or maybe he’d forced his way past the reminder she represented of his own grief.

Whatever had caused it, she could only be grateful. She didn’t want to walk on eggshells around Nathan for the rest of her stay. She settled back against the seat as the cruiser pulled out of the parking area.

The road wound along the lake, a gray ribbon unfurling through a patchwork of gold, green and red. The maples were already dropping their leaves, and the sumacs sent red spires toward the sky like so many torches.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She glanced toward him, to find him frowning at the road ahead.

“What? Oh, sure.” Clearly he hadn’t been thinking about the scenery.

Was he thinking about what a nuisance she was? Or speculating on how soon she’d be out of his hair?

A wave of annoyance went through her. “Look, you really didn’t have to do this.”

Nathan didn’t look at her, but his eyebrow rose slightly. “I thought we were finished with that conversation.” He slowed, flicking the turn signal. “We’re here, anyway.”

He turned into the lane. She remembered the road as wide and well kept, but now it was a rutted, overgrown trail through a tangle of undergrowth. She probably wouldn’t have been able to pick out the turnoff if she’d been alone.

“I see what you meant about the place.” She winced as a dangling crimson vine of Virginia creeper slapped the car’s windshield. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for damage to the police cruiser.”

“It’s been through worse.” He steered around a deep pothole and rounded a clump of rhododendron.

They emerged into the open by the water. Nathan stopped the car where the lane petered out. He leaned across her to gesture to the right.

“That’s all that’s left, I’m afraid.”

She remembered a gracious clapboard house with a wide porch overlooking the lake. Now blackened timbers jutted upward, and a tangled mass of wrought iron sagged to the ground where the porch had been.

She unbuckled her seat belt and slid out without waiting for Nathan to help her. She stood looking, trying to imagine what the fire must have been like.

She swallowed hard, saddened at the devastation. “Depressing, isn’t it?”

He came around the car to stand next to her. “I’m afraid by the time the fire trucks got here, it was past saving. That happens too often with vacant cottages. I always wondered why Trevor’s parents didn’t either rebuild the house or sell the land.”

That would have been her late father-in-law’s decision. He’d always decided everything, while Enid smiled and nodded agreement.

“Trevor came over when he was here.” She repeated what Daniel had said, trying to make sense of that visit.

Nathan nodded. “I remember he mentioned wanting to see the place. Was he planning to rebuild?”

That was obviously something she should have known if she’d been aware of Trevor’s visit to the lodge.

“I don’t think he’d decided yet.” She leaned back against the car, absorbing its warmth. A ray of sunlight, striking through crimson leaves, gave the illusion the fire still burned. “I remember how much he loved this place when he was a kid.”

He leaned against the car, next to her, apparently content to let her take as long as she wanted. “Had you ever been here with him?”

“Not after we were married. I was here as a child, though.”

He turned to look at her. “You were? I guess that means you knew Trevor for a long time.”

“Our mothers were close friends, so we grew up together. I came to the lake for a visit when I was ten.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

She pressed her palms against the car as that visit came to life in her memory. “It wasn’t a happy time for me. My mother was in the hospital, and my father sent me to Enid while she had surgery.”

“That’s hard on a kid. You must have been scared.” His voice warmed with sympathy.

“Scared, mad, you name it. You know what it’s like when you sense that something’s terribly wrong and no one will tell you the truth?”

He seemed to understand what she didn’t say. “Your mother?”

“It was cancer. She didn’t make it.”

She wouldn’t tell him the rest of it—that her father, always dependent on her mother’s strength, hadn’t known what to do with her after her mother’s death. That she’d spent most of her time after that at boarding school or farmed out to friends, her home life gone.

She moved her hand to her stomach. That’s not going to happen to you, little Sarah.

“I’m so sorry.” His shoulder pressed warmly against hers. “That was rough.”

Her throat tightened, and again she felt that irrational longing to lean against him. But she couldn’t. It was time to lighten this conversation.

“Be sorry for everyone around me that summer. I made their lives miserable, too.”

“They could probably take it.”

She glanced at him. He had a cleft in his chin that seemed to mitigate his face’s stern planes. “Actually, I remember a certain lifeguard telling me to stop being a brat.”

“Me?” He raised those level brows. “I’d never have said that to a kid. You must be thinking of someone else.”

“No, it was you, all right. Nathan Sloane, the most popular guy on the beach. All the teenage girls vied for your attention. It’s a wonder one of them didn’t try drowning herself to get it.”

He grinned, his face relaxing. “Actually, I did hear a few phony calls for help in my time.”

His smile did amazing things to his usually serious face. No wonder the girls had been crazy about him.

“I also remember seeing you hanging around the baby-sitter Enid had for Trevor and me. In fact, I caught you kissing her one night right down there on the dock.”

She gestured toward the spot, then turned back toward him. Her heart jolted. The smile had been wiped from his face, leaving it stripped and hard.

Then she remembered. Linda. The baby-sitter had been Linda Everett. The woman he married. The woman he’d lost.

Chapter Four

Sitting on the front porch of the cottage the next afternoon, Susannah watched as the police cruiser pulled out of the lodge’s parking lot and disappeared toward town in a swirl of autumn leaves. Nathan had gone. It was safe to go to the lodge.

Safe? She thought about the word. Who was she trying to protect—Nathan or herself?

Those moments at the ruined house were permanently engraved upon her mind. She’d been careless, and her unthinking words had hurt him.

She pressed her hand against the spot where the baby seemed to be doing gymnastics. She certainly hadn’t intended to cause him pain with her mention of that long-ago summer. She’d actually been relieved because they’d seemed able to converse like any two casual acquaintances.

Well, clearly they couldn’t. Her very presence was a constant irritation to him, and she had to accept that. The best thing she could do for herself and for Nathan was to avoid him entirely.

She shoved herself out of the rocking chair, holding the porch post for a moment for balance. Their visit to the old summerhouse hadn’t accomplished anything except to put another barrier between her and Nathan.

She’d have to find out some other way what had taken Trevor there. She descended the steps and started toward the lodge. She’d talk with Daniel again. Maybe he’d remember something else Trevor had said.

A small voice whispered in her mind that she was avoiding the obvious. Enid might know why Trevor would want to see the ruins of their vacation home.

But Enid was out of bounds at the moment, because Enid didn’t know what she was up to. Questioning her would only raise suspicions, in addition to a flood of tears. No, it was better this way.

She entered the lodge, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimness after the brilliant display of color outside. Daniel was behind the registration desk, as she’d hoped. But he wasn’t alone.

“I’d think you’d want me to work on this stupid homecoming float.” Jen leaned toward Daniel, every line of her slight figure tense in her black jeans and sweater. “You’re always telling me to get involved in stuff.”

“Of course I want you to participate.” Daniel’s usually serene face looked ruffled. “But you know I don’t understand this computer. If I try to do these entries, goodness knows where they’ll end up.”

That sounded remarkably like an invitation to Susannah. “May I help you with that?”

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