“Since I was a baby. I went back for his ashes at my aunt’s apartment. That’s why—that’s why I was there when that guy—” She blinked back tears, wishing she hadn’t brought up New York. “It’s not Teddy’s fault. He didn’t do anything. He’s not even—I mean, I know he’s dead. It’s my fault I went back. It’s my fault I can’t give him up.”
“I don’t mean to butt into your business, Wendy, but maybe now’s the time to scatter Teddy’s ashes. He must have been a great dog, but—I don’t know. At some point, we all need closure after the death of someone we love.”
The tears spilled down her cheeks, but she wasn’t embarrassed for Matt to see her cry. He seemed to understand her feelings, not take them as a sign of weakness, or typical teenage angst. “I’m not like the Longstreets.”
He cuffed her gently on the shoulder. “Kiddo, you’re more like them than you think you are. Probably more than they think you are, too.”
His words made her feel better. She wondered if he’d meant them to. “I’ve been thinking about scattering Teddy’s ashes in the lake. He loved the water.”
“He was a golden retriever, right? I’ve never met one that didn’t love water—”
“Once, he jumped into the lake when the ice was still melting. It was so cold. I thought he’d die! But he loved it! When he came out, he had icicles hanging off his fur.”
Matt laughed. “Dumb dog.”
Wendy found herself laughing, too, and when she headed back to the house, she had a glimmer of an idea for a new poem. It would be about Teddy. She wouldn’t name him—that’d be corny—but, still, he’d be the inspiration for what she hoped would be her best poem, ever.
And first thing in the morning, she thought, she’d scatter Teddy’s ashes in the lake.
Juliet awoke with a start and lay very still in the pitch dark.
Where the hell am I?
Her eyes adjusted, and she made out the interior of her small tent. She had left the flaps up, just the mosquito lining separating her from the elements. She could make out the faint shine of moonlight on the lake.
Vermont. My five acres on the lake.
A raccoon or a wild turkey must have wandered past her tent—or the cold had jerked her awake. Somehow she’d managed to squirm halfway out of her sleeping bag, not that it was worth a damn. She’d had the bag since college, but at least it was hers. Most of her camping gear had been handed down from her brothers.
The night temperature had dropped to the low thirties.
A barred owl sounded in the nature preserve across the lake.
There. That’s what woke me up. Suddenly she heard the crunch of twigs just outside her tent and sat up, reaching for her Glock.
“Don’t shoot, Marshal.”
She groaned, immediately recognizing the west Texas drawl. “Damn, Brooker. Scare the hell out of me, why don’t you?”
“You don’t scare that easy.” He unzipped the mosquito lining and crawled in, blotting out what minimal light there was from the stars and quarter moon. “All nice and cozy in here, I see.”
“What time is it? You were in Texas this morning—”
“I flew into Manchester and rented a car, found my way up here. I figured I’d get the lay of the land and go find a motel room, but some guy who looks like you—”
“All my brothers look like me.”
“This one had just pulled up in a town cop car.”
“Ah. Paul.”
“We had a nice chat. He was checking on the family before heading home. I think you make them nervous when you’re around.”
“I make them nervous when I’m not around. They’d be happier if I’d stayed home to sell mums and pumpkins and design pretty gardens. It was what I thought I’d do.” She didn’t know why she was telling him this—or anything. “I’d have liked it.”
“Ah. The path not taken. I was supposed to be a rancher.” He sat at her feet, his head hitting the tent roof. “Your brother told me you pitched your tent out here.”
“Lucky you didn’t run into Joshua. The mood he’s in, he might have just shot you. What time is it?”
Ethan pulled off his boots. “Around midnight.”
At dusk, after Wendy’s apple crisp, Juliet had driven out to the lake with her camping gear. Matt Kelleher spotted her and introduced himself, then helped her cart everything down the path to her clearing. She’d found herself interrogating him about his dead wife and Arizona and his camper, then backed off. She’d spend the night on the lake. Then she’d head back to New York first thing in the morning. She wasn’t accomplishing anything in Vermont except upsetting her family.
“I told Officer Paul that I had a room at a hotel off the interstate.”
“You don’t, though.”
He shook his head. “I’m just a poor ex-soldier.”
“Ha.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t protecting your virtue. I didn’t want a Longstreet posse hunting me down.”
But Juliet had to admit she didn’t want her brothers finding out Ethan had made his way to her tent, either. She’d never brought a guy home to Vermont. Even when she and Rob Dunnemore were together, they seemed to both know it wasn’t a forever relationship.
“You’re shivering,” Ethan said.