Down the Hidden Path (3 page)

The mums were lovely, and Gray continued to stare down at them rather than the house behind the mailbox. How had her Nana’s home fallen into such disrepair in the last years? It had sat empty since Nana’s stroke, when they up and left town to go live with Gray’s aunt in Laver. She’d been three months pregnant then. And everything had changed.

Her nose tingled at the memory, so she dusted her hands together and hoped the neighbors would appreciate her effort to make the house presentable again. Nana’s home was little more than a cottage anyway, but the few other homes dotting the road leading south into the town of River Rock had been meticulously kept, painted frequently, lawns perfected as if a set from
Leave It to Beaver
had barfed right here in the middle of Missouri. The house leaned, too, she realized as she walked back toward the front porch, so she tilted her head to the right. Ah.
That’s better
. She was almost inside when she heard the car horn. Gray turned.

A beaming blond woman was waving furiously and for a quick instant, Gray wondered if she’d somehow inadvertently set her jeans on fire—what else would cause such commotion? She glanced down. No flame, no smoke.

The woman sailed into her driveway and threw the old truck into park. A billow of gravel dust rose to envelop the girl as she hopped out wearing jean shorts, a tank, and work boots.

She waved again. “Gray, hi! It’s Charlee.”

For a second, Gray remained pinned to the sliding front porch, a hand firmly planted on the splintered railing. Then, the words caught up to her at the precise moment the woman caught up to her, and her mind rushed forward, aging the twelve-year-old girl she’d known.

She bounded off the porch. “Charlee!” The two hugged and Gray shook her head. “Oh my gosh. You’re beautiful. I can’t believe how much you look like your mother.”

Charlee hugged her again. “Are you back? For good?”

She cast a labored glance at the house behind her. “For now. I mean, I’m here.”

Charlee blinked.

“I planted mums.” She pointed to the mailbox.

Charlee glanced at them, then her eyes went back to Gray, probably trying to follow the logic of that comment. It was just that meetings with McKinleys could lead nowhere good. Of this, she was certain.

“Are you fixing it up to sell?”

No. Yes. How was she supposed to answer the woman who didn’t need to know her business? Gray bit into her lip hoping for rescue.

Charlee nodded, gathered her shock of curls at the base of her neck. “I understand.” Her tone was soft. “We can’t bring ourselves to sell Dad’s house either.”

And all of what the McKinleys had been through rushed unguarded into Gray’s mind. Her throat tightened. There was a time she’d felt the McKinleys—
all
the McKinleys—were just as much family as her own nana. But not now. Certainly not now. “I’d invite you in for coffee, but it’s really a mess inside. I’ve just started going through things.” Surely, that would end the inquiry.

Charlee beamed. “No problem. I’ll take a rain check. Maybe next week.”

Uh. That wasn’t what she meant.

Charlee sat down on the porch step and waited for Gray to do the same. “Are you working here in town?”

Reluctance causing her fingers to constrict, she sat but remained bone stiff. “Yes, but it’s just part time. I’m an occupational therapist.”

“Wow. Good for you. Must be rewarding.”

“Mm hmm.” Her fingers itched to clamp together but she knew that was a telltale sign of tension, so she forced one index finger to trail a crack in the wooden porch floor. The paint was peeling. It scraped against her hand.

“Miah said he saw you at the truck yesterday.” Charlee rolled her large, expressive eyes. “I love those tacos! How do they do it? The guy ran out of food that day. Just before Miah could get his. Some lady in front of him bought the last ones.”

Gray swallowed, her mind skipping back to the moment she’d left Miah with deeper problems than missed tacos. She’d left him with pain in his eyes about why his best friend from high school didn’t even have ten seconds to say hello.

“He’s back, you know. For good.”

She knew. She didn’t care. Couldn’t. In fact, if she’d known that a couple months ago, she wouldn’t have come home. Laver was only a short drive down the road. But Angie and Bill had talked about sending David to River Rock for high school because of their science department—a glory to be sure for such a small-town school, but when a town produces one of the top scientists in the country, it tends to make a difference. Where other schools were all about the sports or music programs, River Rock prided itself on science.

At the time, it had seemed like a great idea to fix up Nana’s house. David would be in high school in a couple years and in the interim, she could get an OT position at the hospital, even prepare a room for him. She knew how busy teenagers were. The reality whispered in her ear,
the older he gets, the less he’ll need you, the less he’ll want you around
. Age and time would eventually steal him. But maybe she could hold on a bit longer if she had a place for him to hang out during his high school years. Gray glanced down, realized her hands had fisted in an attempt to capture the one thing she had to continually let slide through her fingers.

“The Artists’ Retreat.” Charlee tapped Gray’s leg. “Did you hear me, Gray?”

“Oh, sorry. What?”

“No problem.” A hand waved in front of her and a band of gold and a beautiful set of diamonds caught the light.

Gray grabbed her hand. “You’re married?”

“Yes.” She cast a look skyward. “It was a bit of a debacle at first. Everyone hounding me to plan a wedding. I’ve discovered I’m not much of a wedding planner. What’s the big deal, right? I mean, you’re basically on display in a white dress . . . white. Do you know how dirty white gets?”

Gray couldn’t help but smile. Charlee was a grown woman, but Gray could easily see the precocious little girl she’d been. “So did you run off to get married? I hear there are weekend wedding packages at Eureka Springs.”

Charlee leaned forward. “Ian’s mom and sister would have killed me. They’re really great people. I didn’t want to disappoint them so I turned everything over to them. It was simple and elegant and I didn’t spill anything on the dress. We had it at Ian’s family’s house in Oklahoma a few weeks ago. They couldn’t have been happier.”

That was the Charlee she’d known. Always pleasing the people she loved. “Sounds lovely.” Gray couldn’t stop the bits of envy that unfurled in her stomach. A wedding, a marriage. Even dating anyone seriously. Those were all things she’d put on hold so she could devote time to David. And he was more than worth it. Even though she’d been in his life since day one, time was precious. Already, he was twelve. The years had gone by so fast. For her, it was almost like he was aging at record speed and she had no way of slowing the clock.

There’d never been a happier day in her life than when Angie and Bill agreed to an open adoption. Their attorney wrote up the paperwork and Gray was allowed to be involved in the life of the child that she brought into the world. He was a treasure wrapped in flesh.

Besides, once he was grown, she’d have plenty of time to pursue things like relationships and love. Without meaning to, she lifted Charlee’s hand and examined her ring. The gold band held an asymmetrical line of diamonds that resembled an ocean wave. “It’s really beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Charlee moved her hand so it caught the light. “Thanks. Ian had it made for me by a designer in Chicago. She’s a girl I grew up with. Younger than you, so you probably don’t remember her. So, when will you come see the retreat?”

Huh? She hadn’t agreed to that.

“How about Saturday? You could stay for dinner. We bought some new outdoor heaters in case it starts getting nippy. Whenever we can, we eat outside. You’d get to meet the artists.”

Dinner under the stars with artists. It sounded tempting. If, of course, this wasn’t Charlee
McKinley
. “I can’t. But one day I’ll drop by if that’s okay, and you can show me around.”

Charlee smiled, but the cold shoulder she’d received from Gray was evident, flashing through her eyes then disappearing. The moment of sadness turned to determination. “I’ll drop by, too, next time I’m in town and we can have that cup of coffee.” There was a challenge in the younger woman’s voice. One that said,
You might have given my big brother the brush-off, but you won’t have as easy a time getting rid of me.

And with all Gray knew about Charlee, it was likely true.

With Charlee gone and the mailbox decorated, Gray couldn’t face the interior of the house again quite yet. Her grandmother’s imprint was everywhere and sometimes it just became too much. The only bathroom in the turn-of-the-century little cottage smelled like Nana’s rosehip perfume, though the bottles had long since been discarded. That warm, floral scent had overtaken her once—a week after moving in—when she’d opened the vanity door to place a cup under the faithful but infrequent drip. With her head beneath the sink, the scent had whooshed out and grabbed her heart, taking her captive.

Hands trembling, she had closed the cabinet while fresh tears had puddled in her eyes. She’d squeezed them tight and imagined Nana standing behind her. Other than physical things like the house and its contents, that scent, now mixed with the hint of rust and mold from aging pipes, was all she had left of the woman. Sometimes she tried to remember her voice, but as Gray got older, the sound faded until she really wasn’t certain if she remembered or not. Just echoes. Nothing but shadows.

Gray wrapped herself tighter in her sweater and gave the yard and street beyond a long, slow look. She’d grown up in this house, planting flowers in the springtime and raking leaves in the fall. But the giant oak she’d once climbed had lost its battle with disease and had been removed a decade back.

Beyond the sagging porch ceiling, the sun shone above, peeking through the pine trees lining the drive. It beckoned her. She stepped off the porch and let the sun warm her back. In a few steps, she was headed to her favorite place. The graveyard, three blocks down. As she walked, her mind took her back thirteen years to the one moment, the one night that changed every facet of her world. And even to this day, it continued to rule her life.

Thirteen years ago

Gray stood at Jeremiah’s side with her heart in her throat. It wasn’t strange that he’d asked her to come to the party. It was just a bit out of her league, even though Nana had given her money for a new dress and insisted she look the part.

When Miah glanced over and saw the apprehension no doubt turning her forehead into a piece of corrugated cardboard, he leaned closer and whispered, “What?”

She widened her eyes in an effort to make him realize the stupidity of the question. Inside the ballroom of the nicest hotel in River Rock, an entourage of Hollywood types nibbled on fancy tapas and guzzled expensive champagne. All in celebration of the completion of their movie,
Kissing in the Graveyard
, a movie Jeremiah had been catapulted into when the director discovered him at the Dairy Flip and went ape-crazy over his perfect physique and even more perfect face.

Miah’s hand at her back caused a warming sensation, but it wasn’t enough to thaw the tension. She didn’t care for these people; she’d known that from the first day of shooting, when Miah insisted she come to the set. No, these weren’t her people. All the wide, toothy smiles followed by groans of frustration when things didn’t go their way. She’d watched an actress throw a temper tantrum when her dress wouldn’t lay right. Gray was pretty certain a seamstress had been fired on the spot. She’d also witnessed too much sugary, disingenuous flattery and affection. Most of it directed at her best friend, Jeremiah.

When he nudged her deeper into the hotel’s fancy room, she gave him her steeliest glare. It was met with Jeremiah’s infectious smile, complete with twinkling golden eyes a demigoddess would have trouble resisting.

Gray stuck a pointed finger under his nose. “You owe me.”

“Undoubtedly,” he said, his wide-receiver shoulder tipping up. “For so much more than this.”