Whispers Under A Southern Sky

CHAPTER TWO

RETURNING FROM THE grocery store, Amy took the Partridge Hill Road slowly, climbing the sharp incline at a respectful speed. The tarmac looked like the town had been ignoring it for decades, and she was wary of the potholes and cavernous cracks.

Her car was on its last leg—to be expected since she’d snagged it on eBay for next to nothing after her previous vehicle had died. A gray sedan built for efficiency and not comfort, the car was held together with duct tape, furnace cement, a few well-placed zip ties and a whole lot of YouTube video knowledge on DIY mechanics. She was proud she’d kept the thing running this long, but she wasn’t about to risk her luck on one of those black holes.

Even if that meant she couldn’t zip past the house where Sam Reyes lived.

She kept her eyes on the road so as not to risk any accidental sightings. Not that she wasn’t curious, of course. Her long-ago boyfriend had been hot when other teenage boys were still gangly and awkward. Her imagination could quite nicely envision him as a man full grown. She didn’t need that visual confirmed, though. Especially not after they’d had the world’s most awkward non-breakup.

He just up and disappeared. Vanished into thin air with Gabriella Chance, a particularly adorable majorette who probably would have been homecoming queen. If she hadn’t left school to run away with Sam. His mysterious email—weeks later—claiming that he’d left to “help a friend” hadn’t exactly eased her anger.

Thump!

The car dipped down into a rut she hadn’t seen. The passenger-side tire scraped something sharp, a grating noise against the wheel. She hit the gas on instinct since her vehicle was prone to stalling.

And yet, of course, her sedan died right there.

“Unacceptable.” She closed her eyes. Willed the vehicle to life. “If not for me, you would be in a scrap heap.”

Sadly, it wasn’t her first dialogue with the vehicle. But for the first time the cursed thing seemed to listen because it fired up again with a cough and a splutter.

“Yes!” She hit the gas hard, desperate to get out of sight from the last house on Partridge Hill Road.

She wasn’t a woman who enjoyed being rescued, and, thankfully, her closest neighbor wouldn’t be obliged to fill that role today. Racing up the rest of the hill, she dodged the remaining pits and crevices, flush with victory and the knowledge she had enough supplies to last her for the next two weeks. She wouldn’t need to worry about seeing anyone until she felt well settled in, and—

Oh. Crap.

A large man stood on the porch of the hunting cabin.

Dressed in black and wearing dark sunglasses, the figure stood with his back to her, his large shoulders bent over something he seemed to be examining on the front-porch swing. A hit man deciding which weapon to use? Her brain churned out a whole series of crazy possibilities when he did not turn toward her as she slowed the car.

Fear crawled up her throat since no one should be here. Her sisters had promised her—promised—that they would let her decide when she wanted to see the family. No one else knew she was here. And the guy on the porch sure didn’t look like he was selling something. Or trying to convert her.

Why hadn’t the man noticed her yet? She debated backing down the road again. She could just slide it into Neutral and she’d be at the bottom of Partridge Hill in moments. Then suddenly, even with her heart beating hard and the car’s heater blowing on high, she realized she could hear the wail of an infant.

Even as she told herself that made no sense, the man on the porch straightened. He held a baby in his arms.

But that wasn’t nearly the most shocking thing about her uninvited guest.

Because the man in front of her was Samuel Reyes.

Seeing her, he raised his hand. A greeting? A warning?

She mimicked the movement as she sat in the driver’s seat, staring at him as if she’d seen a ghost.

So much for getting past his house unnoticed.

Shutting off the engine as he walked toward the car, she wondered about the etiquette for this situation. How did a woman act when confronting a man who’d broken her heart and run off with another girl? Did she go with a breezy, blasé manner like none of it mattered? Pretend she didn’t recognize him?

He was more handsome than she’d imagined he would be, and her imaginings had been plenty favorable to start with. He looked like a man who took his job seriously, and trained hard enough he’d be able to capture Olympian sprinters while on foot. Even in his dark pants and jacket, the muscles in his limbs were evident.

His features were more sculpted, too, his jaw and cheekbones more angular somehow, his gray eyes more hooded. Or was it that his expression was less open, his gaze more calculating? Sliding across the seat to the working passenger-side door, she reminded herself to breathe.

He was at the car door sooner than she was, opening it and holding out a hand to help her out.

Her heart beat faster for no good reason.

“Looking for someone?” she asked, ignoring his hand to step out onto the patch of gravel that counted as a driveway.

Her gaze skittered over the wriggling baby wrapped in a blue blanket in his arms. The infant couldn’t be more than eight weeks old. Round-cheeked and red-faced, the baby lay tucked into one of Sam’s arms and stared at Amy with wide blue eyes. The child had quit crying for the moment, making the sound of the silence all the more awkward.

“I came up here to see you. Hello, Amy.” Sam reached past her to retrieve her shopping bags from the car, following her example. “Let me give you a hand.”

He smelled good. Like spicy aftershave and wood smoke, as if he’d spent the afternoon near a campfire.

“I can manage,” she assured him. “And you appear to have your hands full.” She wondered why her sisters hadn’t mentioned Sam had a kid. It struck her as highly relevant. “Congratulations.”

She brushed past him to enter the cabin, needing to escape from a confrontation she wasn’t ready to have. In theory, she’d understood he lived close to the cabin. Her sister Heather, ever the family peacemaker, had warned Amy of his proximity in a letter. But she hadn’t counted on him seeking her out and trying to talk to her.

Then again, he couldn’t know she’d lost the skill of idle chitchat. Since she’d left Heartache, she no longer bothered making small talk with strangers or pretending a level of social comfort she’d never developed. While waitressing, she’d taken orders, delivered food and kept coffee cups filled. Occasionally, a chatty trucker would remind her of her father and slide past her guard, roping her into conversation about something besides the weather and how he’d like his eggs cooked. But for the most part, she kept to herself.

Besides, Sam was holding a baby.

A healthy, beautiful swaddled bundle that only reminded her of the pregnancy she’d lost a year ago. She’d faced the miscarriage alone since she’d scared off the father within weeks of discovering they were going to be parents. Amy hadn’t mourned the loss of the stockbroker boyfriend. But the baby?

The hurt of it yawned like a hole that would never close.

She was opening the front door of the cabin with the key when Sam caught up with her. She sensed his movement behind her, heard the rustle of plastic shopping bags.

“You’re in luck,” he said as she shoved open the thin pine front door. “Turns out I can carry a baby and a few bags, too.”

He followed her inside, not waiting for an invitation—or maybe guessing she wouldn’t give one. As he dropped the bags on the floor beside the ones she’d deposited there, she was reminded of the first time he’d spoken to her.

“Do you remember when we got paired to set up the archery stands in gym?” She shared the thought, protecting herself from having to ask him about the infant or himself just yet.

“You told me you’d manage just fine on your own.” Sam leaned a hip against the tiny kitchen counter, making the cabin look smaller just by being inside it. “Surly then. Surly now.” He grinned. “It’s good to see you haven’t changed.”

She felt herself smile before she realized how fast he’d put her at ease. But then, was there any point in putting up walls with this man who was her only neighbor for miles? This man who had a baby with another woman and couldn’t possibly disappoint her more than he already had?

She forced herself to relax.

“You, too. I didn’t recognize you on the porch, and I got rattled.” After reaching into one of the grocery bags, she tossed some soy milk and a bag of mixed greens into the refrigerator.

“That’s a relief. I was afraid you’d gotten rattled because you recognized me.” He shuffled the baby from one arm to the other, using his free hand to empty the contents of one of the bags and set everything on the countertop while she tried not to stare at the child with a tuft of fluffy brown hair.

Part of her longed to offer to hold the squirming bundle, but she didn’t know if she could keep it together. Her miscarriage had been traumatic—a turning point in her decision to reconnect with her family. After the worst of the initial grief faded, she had decided she wouldn’t ever have a family of her own now, but she did want to salvage some kind of relationship with her siblings.

“So what’s his name?” She reached toward one of the baby’s small feet, guessing it must be a boy by the blue blanket and onesie. She tucked the blanket around the kicking leg.

Then, realizing how close that had put her to Sam, she scuttled back a step and returned to loading the small cupboards with food supplies. She also shoved the police scanner she’d bought to the rear of the counter, not wanting to reveal the full depths of her personal paranoia.

“Aiden.” Sam held the child at arm’s length and studied him. The baby stopped pedaling his legs long enough to stare at his dad as thoroughly as his father examined him.

She noticed Sam’s ring finger remained bare.

“Nice. Is that a family name?” She realized suddenly that he may not know much about his real family and kicked herself for asking. Sam had been in foster care when they’d dated.

“I don’t know. I didn’t choose it.” He tucked the baby back against his chest and swiftly changed subjects. “I didn’t mean to intrude, and I can see you’re busy. But Heather told me you were here, and I wanted to make sure you were okay out here alone.”

He was already heading for the door, which she told herself was probably just as well. The chapter of her life with Sam’s name on it was long over. Even if he hadn’t ditched her without a word, there was still the matter of that tiny boy nestled in the crook of one strong arm.

“Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I’m up here for a couple of months to renovate this place into a year-round home so I can sell it and split the profits with my siblings.” Besides bringing her closer to her family, she needed the money to set up her accounting business. A business that would let her work from home and focus her energies on numbers and data as opposed to people. “I’m doing a lot of the work myself, but there will be a few contractors here, too, so don’t be surprised if there is more noise and trucks going in and out.”

“Sure thing.” He nodded. Frowned. “Amy, you were friends with Gabriella Chance back in school, weren’t you?”

“Gabriella?” The girl he’d left her for? Amy was floored by the bluntness of the question.

Funny, she’d always thought of herself as the socially awkward one. Maybe Sam had her beat.

“Zach’s sister,” he reminded her. “She was in your grade.”

She gripped a box of pasta so tightly it started to cave in.

“Right.” She shoved the box in the cabinet and closed the door with a satisfying bang. “Up until she left town, that is. But, yes, we were friends before that.”

Before Gabriella took away the most important person in Amy’s world.

“I’m building a case against a man I believe stalked Gabriella during high school, but I need more evidence to connect him to her.”

She grabbed the kitchen counter, suddenly feeling like the floor was giving way beneath her. She couldn’t speak. How much did Sam know about that part of her past? About the night she’d followed him to Gabriella’s house? Her throat convulsed reflexively until she had to find a glass in the cupboard and pour herself a drink of water.

Sam watched her, but he didn’t seem to notice the effect his words were having. She couldn’t talk about this with him.

“It’s imperative I put this man behind bars for a long time, but he’s been smart about covering his tracks,” he continued, his forehead furrowed and his jaw flexing. The tension and frustration of the case were obvious.

“I don’t know anything about that.” Which was true. She’d had no idea the man had been there for Gabby. Setting aside her glass, she turned from him and lifted a bag from the hardware store. Her hands shook as she withdrew Sheetrock screws, joint compound and tape.

She concentrated on the task, needing a physical distraction to keep herself from thinking about the past.

“You might know something and not realize it.” He sounded certain. “Would you mind if I came back sometime when you have a couple of hours to talk? I’d like to ask you a few questions about that summer.”

The summer of The Incident had been the darkest of her life until her miscarriage. She couldn’t discuss it with him for even a few minutes, let alone hours.

“I’m not sure about that.” She shook her head, not looking at him.

“I’m sure you must have your own questions. You deserve more of an explanation about why I left than I gave you.”

“I did have plenty of questions about that summer and your friendship with Gabriella, too. Not that I need answers. It’s been ten years, Sam. I’ve put it behind me.”

Silence met her comment, tempting her to turn and gauge his expression. Just when she couldn’t stand the drawn-out tension any longer, Aiden burst into a prolonged cry that filled the cabin. She did face Sam then. He was repositioning the baby on his shoulder and whispering something into the boy’s ear.

To her, he said, “We really have to talk. I’m trying to find a regular sitter for Aiden, and as soon as I do, I’ll be back.”

She wanted to tell him absolutely not. She didn’t need the frustration, the hurt, the temptation or the reminders of all she didn’t have in her life by seeing him again. And she sure didn’t need to relive an episode she’d struggled to put behind her for years.

But Sam and his child were already gone. Aiden’s cry grew smaller and quieter as Sam walked away from the cabin. She watched him out the kitchen window, his broad shoulders retreating.

For now.

She believed him when he said he’d be back. He wanted answers for his case. Or for Gabby.

Damn it.

Shoving the rest of the groceries and building supplies into their proper places, Amy hurried to make a list of the tasks she could complete on the cabin renovation right away. Today. The sooner she finished this project, the sooner she could leave Heartache and all those questions about the past behind.

* * *

“I HAVE A seven-page paper to research for AP English, a take-home test in calculus to complete and a slew of college application essays to write.” Bailey McCord thumbed through the pages of her purple daily planner, where she made notes about her homework assignments. She sat in the passenger seat of her car after begging her best friend—her only friend these days—to do the driving. “Tell me again why I am interviewing for a job I don’t have time for and that I’ll never get in a million years?”

Her friend Megan Bryer was steady at the wheel of the used Volvo Bailey’s dad had bought her just last week. Bailey was grateful for the gift, even if she’d come to think of the car as her consolation prize for her mother going to jail. That definitely took off some of the sheen of new wheels.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Megan turned down the radio as she steered out of the Crestwood High School parking lot. “I read an article last week that suggested we feel really uncomfortable around confident, self-accepting women. Doesn’t that describe our whole high school? Let’s not be the girls who bond over talks about how fat we are or how our math scores suck.”

As they passed the girls gathering for dance-team tryouts on the football field, Bailey could kind of see her point. She knew for a fact that a couple of them had agonized for weeks over whether or not to try out because they had “back fat” that the formfitting costumes would show off.

But Bailey was having her own crisis today, and it was a little more substantial than imagining back fat that didn’t exist. “If I could talk to my friend and not feminism’s newest crusader right now, I’d be so grateful. I’ve been panicking about this since sixth-period lunch.”

“Right. Okay.” Megan tightened her grip on the wheel. “Maybe I have been dying to share that quote. But I also wanted you to know you have as good of a shot at this job as anyone else. Have confidence.”

“Meg, I’m not the kind of girl to undersell myself. I’m writing college application essays that make me sound like a child prodigy. But I have mega-valid reasons to worry about applying for a job with the man who arrested my mother. The sheriff is...” She couldn’t think how to describe him, but he wasn’t exactly warm and encouraging. Even if he hadn’t arrested her mom for harassment last month, instantly turning Bailey into a high school pariah, she would have thought he was sort of scary. “...the sheriff,” she finished lamely.

Her mother had had an affair with Jeremy Covington, a guy now accused of stalking girls online for the last decade. Bailey’s mom had covered up the affair by convincing Bailey to date Jeremy’s son, J.D., who’d been as much of a jerk as his father. Little did Bailey know her mother was simultaneously helping her new boyfriend by cyberstalking Megan. Jeremy and Tiffany McCord were both on the town council, and they’d thought they could scare Megan into convincing her father—also on the council—to move away from Heartache. Apparently, Jeremy and Tiffany had seen Megan’s dad as their chief competition for the mayor’s job next year. It was all so convoluted, petty and sickening. Bailey’s dad had sent all his wife’s things to a storage facility last week, half emptying the house in the process. It was like living in a ghost town. And through it all, Bailey felt so angry at her mom for betraying her in every way. Bad enough she’d cheated on Dad. But she’d also destroyed Bailey’s trust.

As if high school wasn’t already hard enough.

“He may be the sheriff, but he’s also just a guy who needs help with a baby.” Megan kept her eyes on the road, but she used one hand to straighten the pendant on her necklace, a present from her new boyfriend, Wade. The pendant was a tiny saltshaker, which apparently symbolized how they met—they both worked at the Owl’s Roost diner and had their best talks over refilling the shakers.

It was kind of cute, Bailey had to admit. And sort of unheard of to be with a guy who listened to you. But then, Bailey’s last boyfriend had gone to jail around the same time as her mom for also helping Jeremy stalk girls, so, clearly, she attracted the wrong sort.

“I do like babies,” Bailey admitted, double-checking Sheriff Reyes’s address in her phone. She’d always wanted a sibling, but she’d never gotten closer than the occasional new baby doll as a kid. “But I can only work so many hours this semester.”

She’d looked into graduating early after her family became the town’s most talked-about scandal, but she would have had to file the paperwork back in August. Now she was putting all her efforts into loading up on AP classes in the spring to cram as many credits onto her transcript as possible.

“So tell him that.” Megan reached over to give Bailey’s arm a quick squeeze. “He’d be lucky to have you.”

She took comfort from her friend’s easy confidence in her.

“I’m so glad we’re friends again.” Bailey hated that she was Ms. Mushy lately, crying every time she turned around. But it was the truth, and Meg deserved to hear it. “Hanging out with you is the only good thing about me not being able to graduate early.”

“We can have a fun senior year even if no one else wants to hang out with us.” Megan was used to being more of an outcast, and she seemed comfortable enough in her own skin that it didn’t bother her. An unabashed gamer who took quirky to a whole new level, Meg couldn’t get through a day without recounting an idea for the fantasy video game she wanted to create. She also played guitar and composed music that sounded like a sound track to a steampunk novel—electronica meets baroque.