Читать книгу True Devotion - Marta Perry - Страница 9

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.