Blackberry Summer (27 page)

Chester chose that moment to nudge her leg with his nose. His eyes drooped at her with such empathetic sorrow that, conversely, she gave a shaky laugh and buried her face in his warm, furry neck.

For some strange reason, Claire suddenly remembered that silly horoscope she’d read the morning after her store was robbed, minutes before Riley came back into her life.

Fun and excitement heading her way. That’s what the thing had claimed.

Stupid freaking horoscope.

Right now she was pretty sure she would prefer to
spend the rest of her life staring down excruciating monotony if it meant she could avoid this agonizing sense of loss for something she’d never had in the first place.

T
HIS WAS WORKING
. S
OMEHOW,
despite the crazy hours, the logistical nightmare, the conflicts and confusion, they had managed to pull it off.

By 3:00 p.m. the Saturday of what would have been Layla Parker’s birthday, it was apparent the town’s first-ever Giving Hope Day was an overwhelming success.

Claire sat at a worktable outside the community center with her leg propped up on a crate and her hands deep in dirt, transplanting flowers donated by the nursery into containers.

They couldn’t have asked for better weather. Someone had definitely been smiling on them. It had rained on and off the previous week and she had been praying they could escape another storm. Much to her relief, only a few high, puffy clouds marred the vast blue perfection of the Colorado sky. The June afternoon was lovely, warm and sunny and beautiful, the mountains a brilliant, gorgeous, snow-topped green.

The scent of dirt and petunias and the sharp, sweet tang of pine mingled on the breeze. It smelled fresh and new and, corny as it sounded, rich with hope.

Vehicles had been coming and going all day from the community center, which had become command
central. Even though she’d witnessed the endless stream of people all day, she still couldn’t believe the turnout. Everywhere she’d been today, the crowds had overwhelmed her. Seniors wielded paintbrushes alongside teenagers at the high school as they repainted the flaking old bleachers. Little kids carried tools and nails and water bottles for their parents as they worked to build a new playground on land donated by—surprise!—grouchy Harry Lange. Inside the community center, a dozen quilts at a time had been set up for gnarled hands to tie for the children’s hospital in Denver and Claire had even seen two sworn enemies, Frances Redmond and Evelyn Coletti, smile tentatively at each other as they snipped yarn.

She smiled at the memory, pulling out another plant start from the flat on the worktable. She rotated her shoulder, aching everywhere, but it was the kind of satisfied exhaustion she loved.

She couldn’t regret any of it, not the long hours of preparation, not the paperwork, not the sleepless nights of worry.

The day wasn’t over yet—the dinner and auction were still several hours away—but even without that, she thought maybe the goals of she and the others planning this day had been met. The people of Hope’s Crossing were talking to each other more, reaching out to neighbors, working together to lift and help those in need.

The Angel of Hope, whoever it might be, must be smiling right about now.

She picked up the trowel, savoring the feel of it in her unencumbered hand. Three days after her cast had
been removed, she still felt strange without it. Although she was a long way from regaining full use of her arm, at least the skin had lost a little of that shriveled, puckered look.

She was setting in the last start of this container and packing down the dirt when a voice spoke behind her.

“This is a good thing you’ve done for Hope’s Crossing.”

Claire jerked her head around with a little cry of happiness.

“Katherine!” She instinctively reached to hug her friend, forgetting all about her grimy hands.

“Oh, dear,” she said when she pulled her hands away and saw the dirt streaks she left on the older woman’s pale peach sweater set. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Now you’re all dirty.”

“It will wash. Don’t worry. It was never one of my favorites.”

Claire gave a rueful smile, shaking her head. Katherine never changed. If someone burned down her house, she would probably claim she had been thinking about moving anyway.

“How wonderful to see you!” Claire exclaimed. “I never expected you to make it, with everything you have going on. How’s Taryn?”

Katherine’s normally graceful features looked haggard, the lines etched a little deeper. Her hair was a few weeks past needing a color and trim and Claire wished she could bustle her away right now to a hair salon for a quick pick-me-up.

“Things aren’t going as well as we’d hoped, to be
frank,” Katherine said. “I guess we had some quixotic idea that once she finally started to come out of the coma a few weeks ago, things would quickly turn around.”

Claire and Alex had visited the hospital in Denver the day after that last devastating encounter with Riley two weeks earlier and both of them had been heartened to see Taryn’s eyes open, although the girl had still been largely unresponsive. She had wanted to visit again, but pinning down all the necessary details for this daylong event had sapped her time and her energy.

All that seemed unimportant now. She should have made the effort, figured out some way to make it happen. A visit would have been a much better pick-me-up than a hair color, especially if Katherine had been struggling with this discouragement on her own.

“I thought she was improving.”

“Every day is still a struggle.” Katherine’s elegant chin wobbled briefly and she made an obvious effort for control. “I’m afraid we’ll soon have to accept she’s never going to be our same Taryn.”

“Oh, Katherine.” She squeezed her friend’s fingers, sad all over again at how one single moment could change so many lives. As devastating as the accident had been for Maura and her family—losing a child must bring unimaginable pain—Katherine and her son, Brodie, had endured setback after setback in Taryn’s painstakingly slow recovery, measuring each moment in tiny little steps.

“Maybe she won’t ever be the same Taryn,” Claire
said carefully. “But she’s tough. I’m still praying you’ll all come through this.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Katherine smiled and finally released her fingers and stepped back. “You and the others have certainly been busy.”

“It’s been a wonderful day so far.”

“We needed this. A reminder that no matter how difficult our own journey, sometimes the only thing that can ease our path is to stop for a while and gather strength by lifting someone else’s burden.”

Claire nodded. “You and Mary Ella have taught me that lesson well over the years.”

“Hand me that extra trowel there and that six-pack of alyssum.”

Claire wanted to argue that Katherine wasn’t dressed for it, in her cream trousers and pastel twinset. But because she had already ruined the other woman’s sweater—and it “wasn’t her favorite anyway”—Claire doubted Katherine would listen.

She handed Katherine the trowel and the six-pack. “I’ve got an extra pair of gloves around here somewhere. Give me a minute to find them.”

“No, don’t bother. I think I need to stand in the sunshine and get my hands dirty today.”

Although Claire’s heart ached, she smiled. The two of them worked side by side in companionable silence and she thought she could see a little more sadness and tension leave the other woman’s features with every passing moment.

Katherine finally spoke when she was adding the last plant to the container. “I do think it’s a wonderful
thing you’ve done, but you shouldn’t have worked so hard. You’re still healing yourself.”

“What were you just saying about losing your pain in lifting someone else? I needed this, too.”

She never would have dreamed how much she would need the solace and comfort. If not for the myriad details she had to deal with, she probably would have fallen completely apart after everything that happened with Riley.

“Anyway,” she went on, “I only came up with the idea and then everybody else has just taken off with it. It’s been truly heartwarming to see the town come together.”

“I miss Hope’s Crossing,” Katherine said. “Everyone is very kind at the hospital in Denver and at the apartment building downtown where we’ve rented a place so we can be close to the hospital, but it’s not the same as being home. This whole thing has taken a toll on Brodie, I can tell you that. My son has never been the most patient man. He’s too much like his father was in that respect.”

Claire had generally found Katherine’s son to be cool and disapproving. How such a warm and generous woman could produce such a son mystified her. She didn’t wonder that Brodie was struggling with a daughter who might end up permanently disabled from the accident.

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words died when she saw a familiar silver extended-cab pickup truck pull into the parking lot, its bed filled with lumber.

Whatever she had been about to say flew out of her
head as Riley climbed out of the cab. She hadn’t seen him since that night and she braced herself against the pain she knew was stupid and useless.

He turned in their direction but seemed to stop short when he saw her. After a pause, he continued toward them without once meeting her gaze.

“Katherine, hello.” He pulled the older woman into his arms and kissed her cheek. When he set her away, they shared an awkward moment when under normal circumstances he might have greeted Claire the same way. Instead, he gave her a strained sort of smile and shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Claire.”

“Riley,” she murmured, and plucked a hapless dracaena out of the flat.

“Uh, I think we’re done at the playground. We’ve got some extra supplies and somebody at the site said to bring them back here.”

Oh, she missed him. Everything inside her wanted to jump into his arms, to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on tight.

For two weeks, she had told herself each morning she could get through this. She’d survived a divorce, the dissolution of a ten-year marriage to her childhood sweetheart. She could certainly get over Riley McKnight when they’d shared only a few kisses.

So why did her throat ache, her eyes sting?

She cleared her throat. “Um, right. We’ve temporarily created a pile where people can donate unused building materials to anyone who might need something for a project. A clearinghouse kind of thing. It’s on the side of the community center, by the Dumpster.
Do you need me to round somebody up to help you unload it?”

“I’ve got it, thanks. See you, ladies.”

He climbed back into his pickup and backed up, then headed for the other side of the parking lot to start clearing out the lumber from his truck.

Claire gazed after him as long as she dared before forcing herself to turn back to her planter. After a moment of continued silence, she looked up and winced when she found Katherine watching her closely, an expression of curiosity and compassion in her eyes.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going well for our new chief of police. It makes me so angry that certain people are so wrapped up in their own agendas and ambitions that they don’t want to give him a chance.”

She dearly hoped none of her naked longing was obvious in her expression. “Why do you say that? What have you heard?”

“Oh, this and that. I haven’t completely let my responsibilities on the city council lapse, you know. I came back last night for the city council meeting and we went into closed session to discuss a few personnel issues. There are a few voices who think we ought to part ways with Chief McKnight when his probationary period is over at the end of this month.”

“J. D. Nyman among them.”

“It doesn’t help that his brother is also on the city council. Or that Riley is at the top of the mayor’s you-know-what list right now.”

Claire knew Mayor Beaumont was doing his best to get Charlie cleared of all charges, something everyone
else in town except William Beaumont knew wasn’t going to happen.

“It’s not fair! Riley cares about the people of this town and is a good police chief.”

“Relax, Claire. I agree with you.”

“He has done
nothing
wrong.”

She realized she was crushing the poor dracaena and relaxed her fingers. If she were being truthful, sometimes late at night she thought it might be easier if Riley did end up leaving town. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about the chance encounter at the grocery store or the gas station—but she didn’t want to see him go like this.

“This is small-town politics and nothing more,” Katherine said. “A few people have grudges for things that happened years ago and they’ve been whispering in the ear of some of the council members whose memories might not be that long.”

“Where do things stand?”

“So far the vote is three to two in favor of keeping him. The mayor can only step in when it’s a split vote—if we have someone who’s absent or chooses to abstain, which is why I left my granddaughter’s hospital bed to make sure I didn’t miss the meeting.”

“Does Riley know?” Claire asked, risking another glance over at his silver pickup.

“I’m sure the rumors have reached him by now.”

If he hadn’t made it so plain that he didn’t want to talk to her, she would have tried to at least offer words of encouragement, to let him know she supported him no matter what.

The whole thing left her terribly sad and feeling helpless.

“Where are you planning to put the planters?” Katherine asked.

“Along Main Street, on those hooks on the lamp-posts they put up a few years ago, you know, where they put flags for the summer music festival and the art fair. We’re going to stagger them on every other lamppost.”

“They’ll be lovely, Claire. Really beautiful.”

A few other men had stepped in to help Riley unload his truck and she watched him carry the last load of lumber and set it on the pile. A moment later, his pickup backed out of the space and he turned around to leave. She watched for a moment, then jerked her attention back to the work.

“Do you plan to stay in town long for the dinner and benefit tonight?” she asked Katherine.

“Yes. Brodie is staying in Denver with Taryn this weekend. I promised him I would represent the family for him. Is everything ready? Mary Ella tells me you’ve made an exquisite necklace and earring set. And I heard the news that Ruth is actually putting Hope Van Duran’s silver necklace up for bid. I was stunned. I’m definitely planning to take my checkbook.”

“Here’s hoping everyone else in town decides to do the same thing,” she said.

“H
ASN’T THIS JUST BEEN
the best day ever?”

Riley looked down at his mother in his arms as they danced to the string combo in the corner of the
Silver Strike Hotel ballroom, playing a particularly nice arrangement of “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”