Her Small-Town Romance

“Maybe this is a mistake,” Bryan said. “You don’t look so great.”

She willed her lungs to accept more air than the shallow breaths they currently allowed. “Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He looked up at the sky.

She didn’t need to gaze upward to see a drop cloth of gray. If the sun would come out, maybe the scene in front of her wouldn’t appear as sinister. Actually, the view didn’t match the one in her mind. The blue path cut through scattered trees, not a thick forest like in Germany, and mallards quacked overhead. Happy sounds.

“My grandfather took me here all the time when I was younger. I know every inch of these woods. You’ll never get lost with me by your side.”

She didn’t doubt him. He exuded confidence out here. Maybe if she tethered herself to him, she could take a few steps in there without breaking out in a terrified sweat.

“I miss Granddad.” Bryan crouched and picked up an acorn. “Wish I could hike with him one more time.”

“I understand.” She fought the urge to close her eyes again. “I wish I could have coffee with Mimi again. Sounds as if you and your grandfather were close.”

“We were. Mom died when I was eight. Granddad and I spent a lot of time together after her death. Dad had his hands full with the babies—Sam and Libby. My other sister, Claire, was still little, but I’m pretty sure she considered the young ones hers, so she helped Dad. My older brother, Tommy, came with Granddad and me to hike and fish, but after a couple of years it was just the two of us.”

“Why didn’t Tommy go anymore?”

Bryan grinned. “He discovered sports.”

“You’re not into sports?”

“I played some, but I liked being outside with Granddad better.”

She relaxed a fraction and squinted, attempting to see the trees in a different light.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but did something happen to frighten you?”

“You could say that.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her vest. “It was a long time ago.”

He edged closer. His tall, solid frame comforted her for some reason. Made her want to lean in, rely on him to protect her out here.

Not smart. He’d leave her. Everyone else did.

“How long ago?” Bryan flicked the acorn into a bush.

“Oh, I was little.” Did she want to talk about this? Mimi had tried to help, but every time they neared a wooded area, Jade had grown hysterical. Eventually Mimi stopped trying and told her there were some things best left to God.

“How little?” Bryan asked. “Toddler or teenager?”

“In between. I was seven.” A nervous laugh escaped, and her shoulders tensed until they reached her ears. All alone in Germany. Mom was at work. The neighbor boys had gotten a kick out of playing a prank on her, leaving her alone, wandering. Sweat broke out on her forehead. “It’s not something I talk about.”

Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Fair enough.” He motioned for her to follow him to a park bench several feet away.

Jade perched on it, facing what looked like a Christmas tree. She loved Christmas. Not all trees were bad.

Bryan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I had nightmares after my mom died.”

She knew all about nightmares, too. “Yeah, I have bad dreams—well, one bad dream. About the forest.”

“Is it night or day?”

“Night.”

“Would it be as bad if it were daytime?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Why?”

“It’s so dark, it doesn’t matter if it’s night or day. I’m alone. There’s no path. Everything closes in, the leaves and branches grab me.”

His serious expression assured her he didn’t think she was silly, or if he did, he was good at hiding it.

“What are you trying to do in the dream?”

“Escape. I want out of there.”

“But there’s no way out.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you run?”

“Eventually.” The branches always tore at her face and hands, and she’d fall to her knees, sobbing in terror as orange and yellow eyes multiplied. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Tell me what’s so great about this place.”

Bryan took the change in subject in stride. “Spring brings Lake Endwell back to life. Next week you’ll see wildflowers popping up. Squirrels say hello when you wind through the path. Inhale and you smell it all—the earth, air, pollen—and it’s good.”

“I think I’d rather light a candle in the safety of my home.”

“Give it a chance. Beats any candle. The weather will warm up soon, and you’ll really have fun. Swimming, fishing, bonfires. This area is all about the outdoors.” He brushed something from her shoulder. She hoped it wasn’t a bug. “What did you feel when we stood in front of the path?”

What did she feel?

Overwhelmed, claustrophobic. Scared.

Several birds flew past, and in the distance she heard birds calling.

“Never mind. Your face says it all.” He stood, holding his hand out to help her up. “Will you let me take you somewhere else? Don’t worry, it’s basically a lawn with a lone tree here and there. Most of the trees are way off in the distance.”

She put her hand in his—strong, comforting—and rose. “Where is it?”

“City Park. I want to show you the lake. It’s the least-threatening place I can think of around here. It might give you a different impression of the area.”

“City Park? It still exists?” A delicious buzz spread through her chest. “Tell me it’s the same one that was here fifty years ago.”

He shot her a quizzical look. “Yeah, why?”