Jaded (35 page)

I needed him. But he doesn’t need anyone.

“Lannie,” Freddie said quietly.

“Not now, girls,” their mother said. “Freddie, you go first. Alana, smile.”

The limo pulled to a halt in front of the hotel. A red velvet rope kept the press back, and flashbulbs exploded as the doorman helped first their mother, then Freddie, then Alana from the limo. They smiled but kept moving up the red carpet. In addition to the standard gauntlet of political reporters were photographers and stringers from the more avaricious tabloids, all in search of a good shot of Freddie. She obligingly stopped and smiled, then reached for Alana. Her arm went around Freddie’s waist and her sister tipped her head to hers.

“Love you,” Freddie whispered.

“Love you, too,” Alana replied.

This was enough. This was more than enough.

 • • • 

THE HOTEL WAS
absolutely packed. Freddie and their mother moved through the crowd with the confidence that nothing would start without them, so they could take their time. Alana kept an eye on her watch and played her role, murmuring quietly to disengage them from conversations and keep them somewhat close to the schedule. They were united with the Senator at the head table, where Alana collected her perfunctory welcome-home kiss, then took her place beside Freddie. Everyone was seated only thirty-five minutes behind schedule—not bad, all things considered.

Speeches, toasts, more speeches, then a luxurious dinner. Alana picked at her food and refused a second glass of wine in favor of water. After dessert, the servers opened the dance floor, and the real business of the night began, the backroom conversations and negotiations that would grease the wheels of the next round of policy talks.

Alana made the rounds, then found herself in a group of people she’d known casually since childhood. One level of her brain tracked the conversation, filing away gossip and updates that her mother or Freddie might find useful. They’d compare notes later, sifting through the social strata, always searching for ways to tighten the connections that would advance the foundation’s interests.

Another level, very quiet, very calm, and very, very unshakable, said that
enough
wasn’t enough anymore. Before her time in Walkers Ford, it was enough to work for the foundation. It was good work, interesting, important. But she’d made the life she always wanted in Walkers Ford, a life rich in the meaning and connections she never found in Chicago. Tomorrow morning, she’d get back in her car, drive back to Walkers Ford, and apply for the permanent library director position. Period. End of story. The town needed a librarian, and she wanted the job. Cody needed a mentor, and she wanted to watch him grow into the man he would become. Mrs. Battle needed a friend.

Lucas needed a lover.

They all needed her. Not for what she could do, but for who she was. Now she knew what she wanted. She knew where she belonged. She knew who she should be with, forever.

The conversation stuttered, then halted as all eyes turned to Alana. “I’m sorry,” she said, startled out of her reverie. “You were saying?”

They weren’t looking at her. They were looking over her shoulder. She turned around to find Lucas standing behind her. He wore a dark suit and tie, with his too-long hair neatly parted and combed. His face was unreadable, but in his eyes flickered something that made her hope.

“Ms. Wentworth,” he said. “A moment of your time?”

 • • • 

SHE LOOKED BEAUTIFUL.
He should have more eloquent words to describe Alana Wentworth dressed in a gown the color of the night sky strewn with roses. Her slender shoulders and neck gleamed like cream above the dress, but when her gaze met his, his heart nearly stopped beating. She looked mysterious, untouchable, as out of his reach as the sky, and for a moment, Lucas regretted getting in his car and driving nine hours after her.

“Of course,” she said. “Excuse me, please,” she said to the group of women she stood with. All of them were taller or thinner, wearing flashier dresses or more makeup, but they all disappeared into the background next to Alana. He didn’t fit into this world, and he’d come here thinking she didn’t either.

He now realized that was a big, big mistake.

Alana’s eyebrows drew down. “Why are you calling me Ms. Wentworth? We’ve been naked together. Many times.”

A laugh huffed from his chest. “Given the circumstances, I’m being professional,” he said.

“How did you get past security and the Secret Service?”

He pulled back his suit jacket just enough to show her his badge, clipped to his belt. “I bluffed my way in. Don’t give me away.”

“Why are you here? Did something happen? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine. Better than before. Tanya’s in rehab, and this time I think it will stick. Cody’s working on the mural,” he said, and pulled out his phone to show her the pictures he took while Cody worked.

“How did you do that?” she asked as she scanned through the pictures on his phone.

“I told him it was a nice thought that he’d do the mural for you, but that he should do it for himself, and for his brothers. Then I drove him into Brookings to get supplies.”

“Lucas,” she said quietly.

“You gave us all so much. The momentum to renovate the library. The roses. The ring. I gave it to Tanya before she went into rehab.”

Alana’s eyes filled with tears. “Your grandmother would have wanted her to have it.”

Lucas nodded. “Engagement rings are about hope,” he said. “Wedding rings are about commitments, but engagement rings are about hope for a future together. That ring is a reminder that we can find things we thought we’d lost forever. Tanya needs hope right now.”

“I’m so glad,” she said.

“It reminded me that I found what I thought was gone forever, too,” he said. “Letting you leave was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and God knows I’ve made plenty.”

“Because you cared and tried and wanted to do something good for people,” she said staunchly. “Because you got involved.”

“Because
you
got involved,” he said.

“So . . . you’re here for me,” she said.

“I’m here for you.”

“You drove a long way for nothing,” she said.

His face went blank again.

“No! No, I don’t mean it that way,” she hurriedly added, and felt the blush climbing her neck, into her cheeks. “Oh, God. I meant I’d already decided to leave tomorrow. This isn’t home anymore. Walkers Ford is. You are. You are my home.”

He bent his head and kissed her, full of heat and promise lingering warm and purposeful against her lips.

“You must be the entanglement.”

They broke apart to find Freddie standing beside Alana. She held out her hand. “I’m Freddie Wentworth.”

“Lucas Ridgeway,” he said, and shook Freddie’s hand. “What entanglement?”

“I told her not to get entangled out there on the prairie because we needed her here,” Freddie said. She gave Lucas a considering look. “She’s amazing, and she’s been my best-kept secret for a long, long time. But I can see she’s not just my secret anymore.”

“I don’t need to be here, Freddie. I can do my job for you and the foundation from Walkers Ford. But I need to be there. They need me, and I need them.”

“I need her,” Lucas said.

“We need her, too,” Freddie said. Alana straightened her shoulders in anticipation of an argument, but then Freddie surprised her. “But she knows what she needs. I wouldn’t let her go for anything less.”

Lucas stared at Freddie for a long second. He’d thought Alana’s sister would be a diva. And she was, but a completely different kind of diva. Instead of demanding her younger sister’s constant presence to smooth her way through life, she demanded Alana get nothing less than what she deserved. Someone who loved her for her. Nothing more. Nothing less. He reached for Alana’s hand. “How much longer do you need to stay?”

Alana didn’t hesitate. She didn’t think about who she should talk to, or what people would think, or what her mother would say. “I can leave right now,” she said firmly.

Freddie laughed out loud. “I’ll tell Mother you’re going home.”

Alana looked at Lucas, and wove her fingers more tightly with his. “Tell her I’m already there.”

 • • • 

ONE YEAR LATER . . .

“Tell it again! Tell it again!”

Cody Burton hunkered down among the little kids clustered at his feet. “I can’t right now,” he said gently. “The library is about to close, but if you come back next week, I’ll be here and I’ll tell you another story about Growler. What do you think he has to carry next time?” Little eyes widened expectantly. “Watermelons.”

He detached himself from the crowd of kids and parents sprawled on beanbag chairs in the newly renovated children’s section and made his way past the touch-screen computers to Alana. It had taken nearly a year of work to complete the renovation from the building’s framework to the exterior, but it was the most rewarding year of Alana’s life. The children’s section had been freshly painted in a pretty pale yellow, and murals by the high school students lined the wall above new shelves. Low, brightly colored chairs surrounded circular rugs to create seating areas for kids to read. Origami cranes and elephants, created in an art workshop earlier in the month, hung from the ceiling and danced gently in the warm breeze.

The circulation desk marked the transition to the adult shelves and reading area. Mission-style chairs covered in a subtle print were grouped in front of the fireplace. A whole wall of shelves held DVDs for checkout. Alana stopped to straighten the furniture and reshelve the day’s newspapers. All of the e-readers were checked out, with forty-one names on the waiting list, but she checked the lock on the storage cabinet out of habit.

“Thanks for coming,” she said to the parents as they collected their children and escorted them out the front door. Cody snagged his bag from her office and turned out the lights. He’d filled out a little in the year she’d been back, but it would still be several more years before he gained his adult weight. He had a girlfriend now, a sweet, shy young woman taking nursing classes in Brookings who loved his younger brothers almost as much as he did.

“Nicely done,” she said when he came up beside her. “How’s the book coming?”

“Almost done painting the final sketches,” he said. “The little kids have so many ideas about what Growler should look like, whether he should be tomato red or fire engine red or black. I sent the proposals to the agents and a few of them have asked to look at it.”

“Good.”

The Chatham County Spring Fling Carnival was in full swing as people made their way to the food tent for a barbecue dinner before the dance started up. Cody waited at the bottom of the steps while Alana locked the library door behind her.

“I’m meeting Jodi at the food tent after she finishes her shift at the nursing home. You want to join us?”

“No, thanks,” she said. “I’m headed home first. Duke needs a walk, and Lucas had court today. We’re going to meet there and walk over together.”

“He’s not such a bad guy, once you get to know him,” Cody admitted.

“I like him,” Alana said with a smile.

“I guess you do,” Cody replied. “See you there.”

She tipped her face to the setting sun, then set off for home, making her way slowly through the people crowding Main Street. She knew almost everyone by name now, and was slowly learning the family connections stretching back nearly a hundred and fifty years. Lucas would be waiting for her. There was no need to rush, no need to worry. The Spring Fling celebrated the completed library renovation. In a few weeks, Mrs. Battle and Lenore would staff the library while she flew to England for Freddie’s wedding.

Then she’d come home.

When she rounded the corner to her block, Lucas’s truck was parked in the driveway. Her steps quickened as she looked forward to her own reunion with the man she loved. Duke always stepped aside and watched the hello kiss with his tail wagging. It had taken months before he stopped getting worried when Alana got in her Audi alone.

She took a few moments to check the rosebushes for blooms. The canes had buds on them, but while several showed promise for blooming, so far none of them had. Tomorrow, she thought. If not tomorrow, the next day. She would be here to see them. Every spring for the rest of her life, she’d watch these roses bloom.

Lucas stood at the sink, washing his hands. She gave a happy little sigh and dropped her bags by the door. Duke scrabbled to his feet on the slick hardwood floors and came over to nose at her skirt. “Hello, stranger,” she said.

“I’ve been gone twelve hours,” he said with a smile as he dried his hands.

“Twelve hours, but there was the four-day hiking trip last weekend . . .” she murmured, and tipped her mouth up for his kiss.

“That’s better,” he said, and slipped his arm around her waist.

“I still love it,” she said. She studied the cream-painted beadboard cabinets and sage green walls. The color scheme soothed Alana’s soul every time she walked through the door. The kitchen renovation took a fair bit of the fall and turned into a total replumbing of the house, but Alana figured if their relationship could survive a kitchen reno, it could survive anything.

“Even if it took longer than it should have?” Lucas asked. He wore a navy suit and red tie suitable for a court appearance, and an American flag pin on his lapel.

“Unplanned delays here and at the library gave us a good reason to take a weekend off to go camping. All work and no play makes for tired cops and librarians.”

Mayor Turner rehired her as the contract librarian, then formally offered her the library director position after finishing the search process. She’d thought she’d known what she was getting into, but after a particularly contentious board meeting in November, Alana announced she couldn’t face another weekend of taping and painting, and they both needed a break. Lucas packed climbing and camping gear for a three-day trip to the Black Hills. Alana spent her days sitting under pine trees by a lake, drinking tea and reading thrillers while Lucas scaled rock faces. On the drive home Lucas looked like the boy she’d seen in the pictures. Happy. At ease. Alive.