Written on Her Heart (2 page)

“Fine.” Emma fished the journal from under the couch and handed it over. Regret churned in her tummy. She went straight for the kitchen. Perhaps out of sight, out of mind would work, or cooking could distract her from the fact her best friend was reading his secrets too.

But Heather wasn’t a casual reader. She said time was too precious. Every book she picked up had a purpose in teaching her something new. Starlet good looks aside, Heather was smarter than most people she’d ever met. Ten sandal snaps and a
kerthump
later, the friends occupied the room in comfortable silence. “What’s it about?”

Relief washed over Emma. His secrets were still safe. “It’s a journal.”

“Whose?”

“I don’t know. I found it under the willow.”

“And you’re reading it?” Mischief thickened the words.

She knew it wasn’t nice. Mail fraud came to mind. With any luck a court wouldn’t think they were the same thing.

Heather fingered the shiny rock on the cover without opening it.

“I didn’t mean to. I wanted to see who it belonged to so I could return it, but there’s no name.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. I read one page, then I kept wondering why he wrote something so I read another.”

Emma loaded a plate with seasoned burgers and vegetables from the refrigerator. At least she remembered to make them when she got home from the lake. Carrying a tray with her hands, she shoved the screen door to the back porch open with a hip. One foot stopped the door from shutting on her. She leaned into the doorframe and wedged the tray into her side, freeing a hand to open and heat the grill. The sweet repetition of the act calmed her. She tossed the food onto the grill pressed against the railing of her thin back porch and sighed. A busy bird carried a length of string overhead and presumably into the spouting. For the little bird’s sake, she hoped the first rain wouldn’t wash it away.

Inside she busied her hands wiping down the counters and tray. Looking at her friend would give away too much. But she wanted to talk about him. “He was in
Iraq
for three years. Every time they promised him he’d come home, they lied.” She bit her lip.

“Then what happened? Did he die?”

“What? No. How would he even write that?”

The girls broke out in laughter. Heather tossed a tiny tomato at her friend. “Shut up.”

“I think he got hurt though. He said he had to do something he couldn’t even write details about. The next entry came more than six months later and he was home.”

“He didn’t say what happened?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet. I thought he had another year a few pages before he got cryptic about whatever secret thing he had to do. So, coming home in six months, especially after the complete run around he got the other times… I was reading when you got here.”

“How long have you been reading this thing?” Heather’s expression wavered between amusement and interest.

“All day.” Her cheeks burned, probably matching her hair.

She needed a new subject. “Wait until you see the shots I got at the lake today. They’re gorgeous. I think I’ll frame one and give it as a gift. I got hummingbirds in flight.” Emma tossed the little tomato into her mouth. “
Mmm
.”

“Well, show me already. I love your pictures. When I use a camera, all I get are fuzzy torsos with no heads, or devil heads with red eyes.”

“Silly.” She rubbed her hands into the apron tied to the oven door and hoisted her laptop onto the counter. “Start here.” She opened a folder with her most recent shots. “I’ll check on dinner.”

“Hot lifeguard,” Heather called as Emma turned burgers outside. “Pretty hair too.”

“Yeah, I hear she’s a jerk.”

Heather snickered and grew quiet. “Do you have enough to make the brochure yet?”

“Not even close.” She stretched the door wide and retrieved their meal from the grill. Hefting the tray of perfect burgers onto the island inside, her house filled with scents of summer. “To make a brochure worthy of what they’re paying me, I’m going to be at it all summer.
Honey
Creek
Lake
deserves the best work I can manage.”

“You have quite the life going here. Doing what you love.” The pride in Heather’s voice warmed Emma. “Meanwhile I’m an ER nurse who daylights as a lifeguard.”

“You have a serious super hero complex. Can you go one day without saving someone’s life?” She popped her mouth open in mock horror. “Anyway, you love it.”

“I’d love it if I got to marry a doctor,” she mused.

“Marry one? You should be the doctor.”

Heather threw a palm between them. This conversation was off limits to Miss Smarty Pants. She may be brilliant, but she only wanted to be a mom. Heather told her for career day in kindergarten she brought an old sock doll and said when she grew up she wanted to be a mommy. Emma had wanted to be a space cowgirl. She tried not to judge.

“Whatever, Barbie. Eat up.”

“What is this?” Heather pointed to the tray of vegetables Emma slid onto the table between them.

“Corn, tomatoes.”

“On the grill?”

Emma stabbed a piece of tomato and braced herself for the flavor. Growing up on a small farm, she thought she’d grilled everything, but the journal told her otherwise. She’d read one page several times when she realized she shared the rural grill attachment with her stranger. They both loved the sensation of watching loved ones flip burgers and toss horseshoes. During the sandstorm, he’d distracted himself with memories of his dad’s barbecue and his mom’s heirloom tomatoes on the grill. Emma wondered if she did it right. Pushing her fork between her teeth answered that. Delicious. If she could invite him for dinner, she would. She’d make grilled tomatoes and tell him “thank you” for protecting her, for putting himself in harm’s way while she went on clueless, as if the war were nothing more than a segment of the six o’clock news.

“This is good.” Heather’s eyes stretched wide. “Why haven’t we always grilled these?”

“Thanks, I just thought I’d try something new.”

Heather nodded and continued clicking through the shots taken at the lake. “You should pace yourself. I hear they’re adding a gazebo and new landscaping to the field around your willow tree.”

“Hopefully they hire someone from town. Otherwise they won’t get it right. That willow’s the only one in Honey Creek. If they know anything at all, they’ll plan their addition around it.” Emma scooped the burger into both hands and hoped her willow would survive. Not everyone recognized beauty without
Hollywood
’s input or a graphic artist’s airbrush faking everything up. She chewed and worried. All the landscapers and carpenters she knew were men, and men had their own idea of beauty.

The bombshell before her wiped her mouth on a napkin and spun the laptop around to face her. On the screen, Nicholas Fenton stood alone 50 yards from the camera looking at the sky. “What’s this?” Heather raised an eyebrow. “Nothing’s happening except that body. Who is that?” She squinted at the screen and rubbed at it with her thumb.

“I don’t know,” Emma lied. “I couldn’t figure out what he was looking at, so I took the shot.” Looking at the image now, she wondered what the soldier would’ve traded to stand still in the sun-warmed safety of her hometown. “Do you think whoever lost the journal is staying at the lodge?”

“I don’t know. Have you called to check?” Before Emma could answer, a cell phone appeared over her plate already ringing.

“Honey Creek Lodge, how can I help you?” A voice chirped from the speaker.

Emma glared at her friend and swallowed a mal-chewed chunk of burger. “Hi. I was at the lake earlier, and I wondered if someone reported anything lost today, or lately.”

“Are you kidding me? Who is this?” The voice snapped. Judging by the chaos in the background, the kid on the phone had his hands full in the lobby.

“Emma Hastings.”

“Hey, Emma. Yeah, everybody loses everything here. What’d you find?”

“What’d they lose?”

Heather frowned, and Emma turned away.

“Coolers, diaper bags, mess of fish, teddy bears, luggage, shades, cameras…”

“Okay. Thanks. None of that. I’ll check back.”

A dial tone sounded almost before she said goodbye. “Rude.”

“Teens are working the desk all summer. We were rude then too.” Heather looked aggrieved.

Emma wanted to protest, but knew better. She used to be more than rude. She was mean. Back then, the world seemed to roll out before her, and she fizzed with the power only youth and inexperience can bring.

Now she understood life changed people. Her soldier knew that too.

Chapter Two

Nicholas stifled a curse and slammed his truck into park. Of all the idiotic things he’d done in his life, this topped them all. He checked the glove box and console once more for good measure then climbed out and kicked the door shut.

“Idiot,” he growled into the side mirror as he walked passed.

A giant hound dog barreled back and forth across the bed of his truck and bayed into the sky. Her nails click-clacked over the faded blue metal as she looked for a way down. Her jowls drooped to match her blood shot eyes. A graying muzzle earned her extra treats and special attention, and she knew it.
Yowl
, she cried for eight long beats. She locked eyes with Nicholas and threw her head back once more.

“Ugh! You. We both know you can get out of this truck.” Nicholas moseyed along the bed dragging a palm over the hot steel. “You didn’t have any trouble getting in there while I pulled on my boots this morning.”

The hound yawned and lay on her tummy, waiting. Her face cradled between both front paws, eyes rolled up.

“Manipulation doesn’t suit you.” Nicholas ran a hand under the dog’s tummy and pulled her near. “You get too many treats.” With an
oof
, the dog landed on her feet and trotted off to stare at the front door.

“That dog’s got you whipped.” An ATV roared up behind him. Mack swung a leg over the seat and climbed down beside his friend. “You
goin
’ fishing tonight?”

“No. I’ve been out at the lake all day. I’m beat.”

“Chasing tail?”

Nicholas snorted and turned for the house. “You want something to drink?”

The threesome shuffled inside. Mack flopped onto the sofa and grabbed the remote. Nicholas shoved his hands under chair cushions and opened coffee table drawers.

“You catch anything today?”

“No. I went down to submit a proposal to Jim Rutherford on building a gazebo and adding some new landscaping.” He lifted the window seat and dropped it with a groan. “He wants to use the space where the old willow stands.”

“
Ohio
State
playing tonight?” The television snapped on.

Nicholas made his way to the kitchen and hauled open the fridge door, murmuring to himself. Then he remembered, “Hey, who’s that girl who’s always taking pictures everywhere?”

“Emily something? Man, I don’t know, she’s young. I think my kid-sister knew her before she left for college. She got in trouble, came home. Why?”

Nicholas ducked his head low to dig for dinner. “I saw her at the lake today, thought she looked familiar. I thought I knew everyone.”

“I can ask Sarah.”