Willow Spring (4 page)

He wasn’t completely on speaking terms with God at the moment—still struggling with why two good people had died on his watch—but if God wanted to make it up to him some way, maybe that would begin to change his feelings. Logan was the sort of guy who generally believed things happened for a reason, but this one was a toughie.

Just then, he heard a car and looked over his shoulder to see none other than Amy herself pulling into his driveway across the road. He lifted his hand in a wave, aware only afterward that it didn’t require quite as much effort as he might have expected, and he knew she would be glad to see him outside soaking up some sun and playing with the dog.

“Well, look at you, Mr. Up and At ’Em,” she said a minute later as she joined him on the dock. When he glanced up at her, the sun was positioned right behind her head, giving her shoulder-length strawberry blond curls a golden glow, like she was some kind of angel sent to watch over him. “You even look . . . normal,” she went on. “Like a guy who takes care of himself.”

He rewarded her with a soft grin. “Tryin’,” he said. “Thanks to you.”

“It’s nice to see my efforts paying off,” she told him as she leaned down to pet the wet dog who now stood eagerly greeting her. “Think you owe me a piece of pie in return.”

And to his surprise, he realized that he was actually kind of glad to see her. He wasn’t sure he was going to be the best company, but . . . well, maybe being alone was overrated. “Take a load off,” he told her, and in response, she shed her sandals and sat down on the edge of the dock where she could dangle her toes in the water.

Amy was almost relieved to end up with her back facing Logan. She was thrilled to see him outside, looking and acting a lot more like his regular self even if he didn’t seem exactly . . . energetic just yet. But she knew that part would come—she felt him bouncing back, thank goodness. On the other hand, though, seeing him just amped up the whole happy-sad-horrified thing going on inside her, and she feared she’d even blushed the first time they made eye contact. She knew he hadn’t noticed, given that he wasn’t at the top of his game yet—but
she
noticed, and the last thing she wanted to do was act weird around him.

After that, though, they made small talk—about the new cat at the bookstore, about the gorgeous weather, and she was pleased to hear he’d actually called Mike this morning—and she began to realize she could do this. She could act normal around Logan even while being in love with him.

And that will be my cross to bear in life. To be in love with my best friend without ever letting him know.
Which sounded pretty tragic now that she thought about it, but she knew she could handle it with the same grace and aplomb of any Jane Austen heroine.

“Tessa minding the store?” he asked.

In front of him, she gave a nod. And didn’t bother mentioning that Tessa had thought Amy driving out to see Logan was a fantastic idea—or why.

“That top looks nice on you,” he said then from behind her. “Is it new?”

Hmm. She dared peek over her shoulder—just briefly. “Thanks. And yeah, it is. Rachel helped me pick it out.” Rachel was Destiny’s fashion maven—she kept up with style and knew what looked good on different body types. And perhaps Amy had worn it purposely today because it was slightly formfitting and made her feel a little more feminine than most of her clothes. But the most noteworthy thing at the moment was that Logan had never noticed that sort of thing—at least not with her. In fact, she wasn’t sure he’d
ever
complimented something she’d worn.

“You should get more stuff like that,” he said.

And she replied, “Maybe I will.”

After a little more chatting and some time spent just sitting quietly together, Amy extracted her toes from the cool water and swiveled to face him, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. “You know, sitting on your dock with the dog is great and all, but you need to take the next step. We’re going to town.”

And when he immediately started to protest, she cut him off. “Look, it won’t kill you to take a walk around town square, maybe see a few people. And besides, I know you need some groceries, so we’ll stop at the store before we come back. We’ll kill two birds with one stone, and you’ll be glad afterward, I promise.”

When Logan finally relented, and Amy stood to slip her shoes back on, Logan glanced down and said, “You have nice feet. I never noticed that before. I like that color.”

Of toenail polish, she knew he meant. Sassy Salmon, and Tessa’s choice—she’d insisted Amy try something brighter than usual when they’d decided to do home pedicures last week.

“Um, thanks.” And she had no idea why a mere compliment to her toes made her tingle a little, or why her words almost definitely came out sounding too soft and breathy—but she decided not to overthink it. Not just yet anyway.

Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s a couple of compliments. And he’s been cut off from society for more than a month; maybe he’d notice these things on anyone, any female who crossed his path.

But on the other hand, they were compliments he could only pay a female. Which meant . . . he knew she
was
a female. And maybe that part felt as new as the compliments themselves.

But do. Not. Over. Think. It. It probably means nothing.

Amy drove, more conscious than normal of having Logan in the seat next to her. Her toes and torso still felt the effects of being noticed by him. And now she was forced to look at him more, which, weirdly, still took some getting used to. Because she simply saw him in a whole new way now.

His eyes were so darn blue. As blue as Blue Valley Lake itself on a spring day like today. And they were so pretty, too—so much that she found it almost difficult to concentrate on what he was saying when she looked into them. His sandy hair still needed a trim and was a little messy, but she suddenly didn’t mind it that way—it gave the impression that he’d just gotten up. From bed. What did Logan look like in bed? What did he
wear
to bed? She sucked in her breath, wondering, and he said, “Eyes on the road, freckles!”

“Sorry,” she managed as she focused back out the windshield just in time to make one of the sharper curves on Blue Valley Road. But she still saw his face in her mind. He’d clearly shaved a couple of days ago but not recently, leaving that stubbly look she liked. What was it like to touch that stubble?
I should have touched it while I was kissing him, darn it.
But who could think clearly while being kissed like that?
Will I ever get another chance?

Just a few hours ago, she’d have said a definitive no to that question. But now, somehow, she was beginning to let herself wonder, speculate, think, just a little . . . that maybe she was wrong. He was clearly noticing her in new ways, after all. And she couldn’t deny feeling especially close to him right now. And as Tessa had repeatedly pointed out, he hadn’t kissed her like a friend.

So while it still seemed dangerous—to her heart—to even begin thinking such a thing was possible, deep down inside, she was cautiously beginning to wonder . . . if maybe it was. Maybe.

It was late afternoon when they parked near Under the Covers, and Amy exited the car without any sort of pep talk to Logan. Besides the fact that she thought the time for coddling him was over, she suddenly had other, bigger things on her mind.

Like the crazy idea that had just entered her head.

Should she find a way to tell him? How she felt? Or maybe at least hint at it?

Maybe—given all he’d just been through—the timing was right. Maybe he
was
noticing her in new ways, thinking of her differently. Maybe having endured a tragedy had changed something inside him, regarding her, regarding relationships in general. Maybe he was ready to settle down. Dare she think with the sweet, small town girl next door?

But what are you thinking? Telling him would be crazy! A disaster! An utter humiliation of epic proportions!

So just be cool. Cool but . . . open. To the possibilities.
He’d never tell Mike Romo
he
had nice feet, after all. It had to mean something.

Maybe it meant . . . a new beginning. A wonderful new beginning she never could have anticipated with the one and only guy in the universe who really was her perfect match.

So as they settled together on a park bench facing the white, latticed gazebo in the center of the green, shrubbery-laden square, she felt . . . hopeful. And even . . . ready. Like this could really happen. She could have a boyfriend. A lover. And it could be Logan.

“Can we talk about something?” he surprised her by asking then.

“Sure,” she said a bit too quickly. Was this it? Was he going to tell her his feelings for her had changed, deepened? Her heartbeat sped up.

“I don’t think I want to be a firefighter anymore.”

At this, Amy’s heart sank. And not only because it wasn’t the admission of love she’d been fantasizing about—but because it was just so . . . wrong. “What else would you be?” she asked. Because Logan was the kind of man whose job ran through his blood. He cared about it, he lived and breathed it—heck, it was practically part of his DNA. His father had been a Destiny fireman before him, and his grandfather had started the first Destiny Fire Department as a volunteer organization back in the fifties. “I mean, being a fireman is all you’ve ever wanted from the time we were little.”

He didn’t meet her eyes as he replied, but he sounded . . . resolute. “Sometimes things change. And things are changing in me right now. I don’t know what I want to do—it might take some time to find a new path—but the more I mull it over, the more I realize that’s one thing that’s been keeping me inside that house. I don’t want to go back to work at the fire station.”

“Wow,” Amy murmured, all the more stunned.

“And Mike mentioned that he heard Anita Garey needs a bartender at the Dew Drop. So I figure I’ll look into that—it’ll pay the bills for a while until I figure out my next step.”

Amy simply gaped at him, mouth hanging open. Logan wanted to leave the DFD to serve drinks at the Dew Drop Inn? It made no sense.

And she was sitting there trying to think of how to tell him how absolutely wrong for him this was—because she’d never been more sure of anything in her life—when a 1965 candy-apple red Mustang rolled into a parking spot across the town square from them, attracting their attention.

“Don’t see many of those these days,” Logan said, clearly admiring the classic car. And Amy could understand why—even not being a big car person, this one drew the eye. And almost made you curious to find out who drove it.

But she had to get back to business here, had to find a way to make Logan understand that he couldn’t give up his life’s work over one incident—no matter how deeply it had affected him.

Yet then the car’s door slammed and Amy felt them both looking at the girl who’d just gotten out. Arrestingly beautiful, with long, dark, straight hair that hung to her waist and shone in the sun, she walked in their general direction, crossing over the square. And the closer she got, the more Amy was struck by the strange, gut-jarring sensation that she looked . . . exactly like a grown-up version of the long-missing Anna Romo.

Three

“ . . . my astonishment is much beyond anything I can express . . .”

Jane Austen, from
Emma

A
my just stared, blinked. And so did Logan.

She knew it didn’t make any sense—it made no more sense to think this could possibly be Anna Romo than it made for Logan to announce he no longer intended to be a fireman. And yet her heart beat harder for an entirely different reason now. Well, more than one. Logan openly gaped at this gorgeous girl, clearly mesmerized. And the closer she got to them, the more Amy couldn’t stop feeling that strange pinch, the idea that maybe, just maybe . . .

And, oh God, the girl even had the same mole near her mouth as Anna. She’d seen too many pictures of little Anna over the years to forget it, and now, there it was.

The girl was tall and wore stylish platform wedges that only emphasized her lean, sexy body all the more. Skinny jeans and a bright red top that hugged her shape made Amy sizzle with something she seldom experienced: jealousy. And yet jealousy seemed no less than insane at this moment. Because what if . . . ? Could it possibly be?

Both she and Logan stayed silent until the dark-haired girl sashayed past them, seeming as if she was headed toward town hall.

And then, finally, the two of them turned to look at each other—and she knew she wasn’t crazy; she wasn’t the only one thinking what she was thinking. The same stunned look resided in Logan’s blue gaze and it was about more than how pretty the girl was.

Amy watched him swallow visibly, his Adam’s apple shifting, before he quietly said, “Am I losing it, or did that girl look like . . .”

All Amy could offer was a numb sort of nod. But then she found her voice to say, “Except . . . that can’t be, right? I mean, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t.”

“Of course it couldn’t,” Logan said. Yet then he let out a breath and added, “Only . . . what if it is?”

As they watched her get closer to the front doors of the town hall, Logan suddenly grabbed Amy’s hand, pulling them both to their feet, and began dragging her with him as he chased after the dark-haired girl. And she definitely liked having her hand in his, but somehow this wasn’t how she’d imagined it. The whole situation was beginning to feel surreal.

“Excuse me,” Logan said to the girl when they caught up with her a few seconds later.

And when she stopped and turned to look at them, Amy knew. She just knew. Without a doubt. It was her eyes. She had Romo eyes. She had
Anna
Romo’s eyes.

“I . . . don’t mean to be forward,” Logan said, “but . . .”

And Amy realized he hadn’t figured out what he was going to say to her—which was understandable given the bizarre circumstances—so when his voice trailed off, she automatically filled the gap. “You just . . . look like someone we know. Or . . . used to know.”

The gorgeous brown-eyed girl blinked in such a way that Amy knew, too, that she knew who she was, and that was why she was here. But she just said, “Who?”

And though they both hesitated a second more—because it was all too strange, all too utterly impossible—Logan then said her name, as soft and tentative as a delicate prayer. “Anna Romo.”

Even when her lips parted to form an “O,” her eyes lighting with surprise, Anna Romo was beyond beautiful. “Yes,” she said then, “that’s . . . me. Even though . . .” She shook her head, her long, sleek hair falling around her face like a wild mane. “It’s hard to get used to. I . . . didn’t know that was my last name until recently.” And when she looked a little embarrassed, befuddled, Amy couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. My God, what had happened to Anna? What had she been through? She’d been missing for well over twenty years, after all, so it was almost too much to even contemplate.

“I . . . I was told I might have family here,” she went on.

And Amy and Logan simply looked at each other. Boy, did she have family. But Amy knew it wasn’t only the largest clan in Destiny that she and Logan were both thinking of. It was Mike. And Lucky. And their parents. It was a family who’d been torn apart by her disappearance. It was a man—Mike—who’d spent his whole life missing her, wallowing in guilt, and still hoping against hope that one day she would come home. Even though he and everyone else in Destiny knew that was impossible.

And yet . . . suddenly it wasn’t impossible. Suddenly it was unfathomably real. A fact which kept Logan and Amy just standing there gawking at her like some figment of their imagination come to life.

“Yeah,” Amy finally managed. “You have family here. Two brothers. Your parents live in Florida now, but . . .” At a loss for what else to say, how much to bombard her with, this time it was Amy who trailed off, looking to Logan for help.

“Your brother is my best friend,” he supplied, peering back at Anna. “And he’s gonna be
so
damn happy to see you, Anna.” Then he dug his cell phone from his pocket, saying, “I have to call him.”

M
ike had just kissed Rachel goodbye, then started the cruiser, ready for the night shift. He generally preferred working days, since nights spent patrolling quiet Destiny streets could be long and uneventful, but he also appreciated the time it gave him to think.

And as he pulled out onto Meadowview Highway in the direction of town, he thought about the fact that he was getting married soon. And that, though he’d never much thought of himself as the marrying kind, he’d never been happier. At least not in his adult life. Rachel was the glue that held him together—even if, before she’d come along—he’d never been particularly aware that he was coming apart. But he had been. And she’d helped him see that life could be good even when you had troubles, even when you were filled with hard questions that had no answers. She’d made him almost begin to move on.

That part was the toughest, and that was why it was an “almost.” When she’d entered his world, he’d still been obsessed with his own guilt over Anna. He’d still been harboring the insane hope that she’d come back, any day now. And the truth was, living like that for so long had worn on him; it had turned him into a stern, snarly guy not too many people wanted to be around. And he supposed he was probably still that same stern guy, but he was making efforts to change.

And the most important thing he supposed he’d achieved was . . . well, beginning to accept the idea that Anna would never come home, and they would probably never find out what happened to her. For him, that was a hard pill to swallow, but after all these years, he had to face the facts. He had to begin to let it go. And he was still working on that—but he was slowly taking steps in that direction.

He’d finally started putting away some of the pictures of Anna that had filled the house he now shared with Rachel. Not all of them, but some. And he still carried one in his wallet, but he didn’t look at it as much anymore. Not that he needed to look in order to see it—he could see every single detail in his mind. But . . . baby steps. They were all baby steps. Which were a hell of a lot better than nothing.

As he drove out of the dead zone near his home where there was no cell reception, he saw he’d just missed a call—from Logan. Hmm, hearing from him again already? Seemed like a good sign. He punched the button to redial his best friend, still relieved to know he was finally coming out of the funk he’d been in since that house fire.

“Mike,” Logan said pointedly as he answered. He sounded agitated.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. But something’s right.”

“What are you talking about?”
And why do you sound so intense?
But Mike decided to keep that part to himself until he found out what was going on here.

“Listen, are you sitting down?”

“Driving,” Mike replied. “Why?”

“Pull over,” Logan instructed him. “Anywhere.”

“Why?” Mike asked again. Damn it, what was Logan’s deal here?

“Just do it,” Logan said sharply. So sharply that normally it might have pissed Mike off, but given what Logan had been going through, he let it slide. After easing into a gravel pull-off in front of an old red barn, he put the cruiser in park and said, “Okay, I stopped. What the hell is going on?”

And now Logan hesitated. And Mike felt himself getting more aggravated by the second, until Logan finally said, “Okay, here’s the thing, buddy. You won’t believe this—I mean you really won’t fucking believe it—but . . . are you ready for this?”

“For Christ’s sake, I’m ready already. Spit it out, dude, before I blow a gasket.”

“Okay. I’m standing in front of town hall right now . . . with Anna. Your sister. Your sister, Anna.”

Mike stayed silent as he tried to process what Logan had just said. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Had Logan completely lost his mind? He couldn’t quite make sense of it, but he knew it couldn’t be true. After a long pause, his stomach churning painfully at the very notion, he eventually replied with, “What the fuck?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Logan said. “I know it sounds impossible. But she’s here. I don’t know yet where she’s been or what the story is or what brought her back, but she’s here with me, looking for her family. Looking for you.”

“You’re serious,” Mike said, feeling a little numb inside, afraid to believe.

“As a heart attack,” Logan said.

“Are . . . are you sure? I mean, really sure? Because . . .”

“I’m sure, Mike,” he said. “I wouldn’t lay this on you if I wasn’t sure.”

Again, Mike just sat there, stunned into silence. And truthfully, he still wasn’t quite certain he believed it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for all his life, but suddenly, the reality of it didn’t make sense. Suddenly, he saw for the first time, with real clarity, how nonsensical it was to believe she’d come back.

And yet Logan was telling him the impossible had finally happened.

“I’m . . . on my way,” he said after he managed to catch his breath and stop feeling like the twelve-year-old boy who’d lost her that day so long ago.

And then Mike did something he
never
did—he abused his power as a cop by turning on the blue lights and even the siren as he put the car back in drive and sped toward town.

A
nna tried to be cool in all aspects of life. Especially lately. It was easier that way, if you could just act confident, cool, and like you had it all together. And she was usually good at it—because until recently, she mostly
had
been someone who was confident and had it all together. Life had made her a pretty tough cookie in ways, and she’d learned that a little confidence could be a girl’s best friend.

But then her mother had gotten sick a few months ago. And on her deathbed she’d confessed to Anna that she wasn’t really her mother. And as shocking as it had been, there had been some small part of Anna that wasn’t completely surprised, that had somehow always known there were parts of her life she wasn’t really aware of, vague memories that didn’t fit with who she was. And she’d maybe always known in the back of her mind that she should dig deeper into that, ask more questions, but . . . well, it had seemed crazy, and like the kind of thought that was easier to just push aside whenever it entered her head.

And so at the moment, it didn’t matter how good she looked or how cool she wanted to be—she was nervous as hell. Because this was big. Bigger than big. And even if she hadn’t rolled into the town of Destiny entirely discreetly—could she help it if she drove a fabulous car?—she’d thought she’d have time before she’d be confronted with her real family. In fact, she’d thought she’d be the one doing the confronting. She’d planned to go into town hall and quietly inquire about the Romo family. Maybe see if she could get a phone number, an address. And then she’d gather the next bit of courage she needed to contact them.

Yet instead, somehow, these people had miraculously recognized her—something she’d never even imagined happening. And now—now a police car was barreling around a corner and screeching to a halt in the middle of the street, siren blaring and lights blazing, and the guy she’d been talking to was saying, “It’s Mike.” And given that she thought she had vague, fond memories of someone named Mike from when she was very young, she now began to feel overwhelmed, bordering on terrified.

“Okay,” was all she could manage, wondering if her fear showed on her face.

That was when the nice girl with the guy said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure this isn’t how you envisioned this, but Mike loves you more than anything.”

Okay, so it showed. And Mike loved her more than anything. And that should be reassuring—yet it also felt pretty weird, considering that she didn’t even know him.

And then, there he was, this large, dark-haired man in a beige police uniform rushing toward her, stopping in front of her, looking her over the same way the other two had—but after a few seconds, that began to matter much less than the fact that she could see, clear as day, that this was her brother. He looked like her. Uncannily. And then their eyes met—his eerily familiar, like staring in a mirror—and he said “Anna?”

All she could do was nod.

He appeared utterly in awe for a minute, like she was amazing, and then he said, “My God. Can I hug you?”