Page 5 of Love and Other Lost Things

Nik pushed himself to a standing position and turned in the direction of the person hurrying toward him. Mrs. Swanson again. Damn it, he was not in the mood for the local gossip. But he reminded himself that he wasn’t a sullen teenager anymore—he was a respected member of this community, and being rude probably wouldn’t go over well if it got back to his supervisor at the hospital.

“Can you believe that girl has the nerve to stroll back into Linden Falls like she hasn’t been gone a decade?”

Nik’s breath hitched. No. No, he couldn’t. But he wasn’t about to get into it with Mrs. Swanson. “Well, her mother still lives here. So, I guess she has just as much right to be here as anyone.”

“Well, if you ask me, she lost that right when she abandoned her mother. And her poor father, too. That man was never the same after she left. I’m sure that’s why his heart finally gave out.”

As an ER doctor, Nik knew Chief McCaffrey’s heart attack had nothing to do with Jane taking off, and likely everything to do with the fact that he’d smoked two packs a day and had a diet straight out of a college tailgate party.

The man might have been the head of the police department, but he’d left the heavy lifting to his deputies. Chief McCaffrey had liked to drive around in his fancy department-issued SUV casting threatening glances at teenagers, giving approving nods to the law-abiding citizens whose taxes paid his salary, and silently letting it be known he’d had his eye on everyone and everything. The older residents of the town had loved him, and even Nik had to admit that there hadn’t been so much as a vandalized car or break-in at a shop on Spring Street while Chief McCaffrey was in charge.

But while the town saw a protective cop keeping them safe, Nik’s friendship with Jane had given him a peek into the other side of Chief McCaffrey. The side that had caused Jane’s shoulders to hunch to her ears when he walked in a room.

And in the past ten years, nothing about Chief McCaffrey had shown him to be heartbroken over the loss of his daughter. If anything, the man had only gotten meaner.

It had been an ordinary Tuesday in the Linden Falls ER when Diane McCaffrey had come in, and he was treated to a front-row seat of exactly what mean really looked like. It was obvious that her broken bones and split lip had nothing to do with a slip and fall down the porch steps, especially when Nik took in how her voice shook and her eyes darted over his shoulder. But Mrs. McCaffrey had begged him not to intervene. And then Chief McCaffrey had died of a heart attack on a fishing trip before Nik could do anything at all.

For a moment, when he’d been patching up Mrs. McCaffrey’s cuts and setting her broken wrist, it had occurred to Nik that maybe this was the reason Jane had fled Linden Falls a decade before. Except she would have told him. Aside from the steamy night in the back of his car, and the… souls converging, Jane had been his best friend for his entire life. They’d shared everything. If she’d taken off because of her father, Jane would have told Nik, and he would have gone with her, no question.

If there was one thing she must have known, it was that.

So, the only explanation that made any sense to him after years of searching was that none of it—that night, their friendship—had meant to her what it had meant to him.

She’d always said she’d get out of this place, and she’d made good on that promise. And if she’d set fire to the other part of her promise… the part that included him… well, that was her choice to make.

Mrs. Swanson’s voice dragged him back to the general store aisle. “I hope that selfish McCaffrey girl isn’t planning to prance back in here so she can grab a piece of Chief Swanson’s hard-earned pension.” She sniffed. “Her mother is going to need every penny now that she’s on her own.”

“I’m sure she’s not here for the pension,” Nik said, an edge creeping into his voice. Jesus. How long would it take Mrs. Swanson to spread that little tidbit around?

But—

Why was Jane back in town all of a sudden? His thoughts flitted to that gash on her cheek, the bruise under her eye. She’d said she’d accidentally bumped the corner of a cabinet. Nik didn’t believe it for a second. For one thing, it was the exact same excuse her mother had given him that day in the ER—at least until he’d pressed further and she’d admitted Chief McCaffrey had knocked her into a doorframe. And for another, that haunted look in Jane’s eyes told an entirely different story.

Who had knocked Jane into a doorframe? The thought of that gash bisecting her perfect cheekbone, of somebody violently putting his hands on her, had Nik’s own hands shaking with rage. He shoved them in his pockets, or Mrs. Swanson would soon be telling the entire town that Nik Andino had lost his shit over Jane McCaffrey right there in the middle of Ford’s General Store.

“You two used to date, didn’t you?” The older woman eyed Nik with interest, the pension forgotten. Looking for a bigger scoop, maybe.

“We were friends,” Nik managed to reply, his voice curt.

“My memory is that you were more than friends. Always hanging out together, day in and day out.”

“That’s right,” Nik answered slowly, like he was talking to a toddler. “That’s what friends do.”

“Hmm. Well, I heard she did a real number on you when she left. And I wouldn’t get too attached to her now that she’s back. She won’t be sticking around. Selfish girls like that only look out for themselves. She’ll be off again as soon as she gets whatever it is she came here to get.” Mrs. Swanson shook her head, muttering something that sounded like, “…stayed away for an entire decade” but Nik didn’t care enough to try to decipher it.

“Have a good holiday, Mrs. Swanson. I’ve got to get to my shift at the hospital.” Nik turned on his heel and headed for the door before he said something he’d regret. He couldn’t stand there and listen to this for another second. Especially because while Mrs. Swanson might be an insufferable gossip, there was one thing she was right about. Jane wouldn’t be sticking around. He knew it the minute his eyes met hers. She already had one foot out the door.

THREE

We’ll go inside as soon as this song is over.

That was what Jane had been telling herself for the past fifteen minutes. Instead, she sat in the driveway of her parents’ white Victorian-era farmhouse—well, it’s Mom’s house now—while Scarlett napped in the back seat.

If Mom had noticed them pull up, she hadn’t come to the door. Blue light flickered from the front window into the growing darkness of the yard. The local news was probably on, and then Jeopardy after that. Dad used to watch it with a beer after work, and old habits probably died hard.

Jane took in her childhood home. That old crabapple tree that Mom and Dad had planted their first spring in the house had finally succumbed to some sort of disease, and all that was left was the trunk and a few drooping branches. The paint was peeling off a patch of wooden siding on the house, and the downspout had detached from the gutter over the porch. Back when Jane lived here, Dad would have spent a fall weekend cutting down that tree, scraping the peeling paint, and fixing the gutter before the first snow of the year. But Dad hadn’t been here this fall to do any of those things, and the maintenance on that big house had to be too much for Mom to handle.

For a moment guilt stabbed her, but Jane shook it off. This wasn’t a house where happiness echoed in the halls, and she didn’t know what Mom was still doing here now that Dad was gone.

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