Fated Hearts (2 page)

Henley didn’t know where to begin. Not that it mattered. A petite, curvy redhead with the little girl’s freckles and cheekbones came over, laughing.

“Tala, baby, go sit down and leave the nice lady alone. Ma brought out your cheese fries.” The child let out a gleeful whoop and raced away. “I’d apologize for the tiny tornado, also known as my daughter, and her impromptu act as welcoming committee, but I enjoy her curiosity and her energy, encourage both, and to apologize for it would make me a hypocrite. I detest hypocrites.” She looked back over her shoulder. Henley followed her gaze. The little girl happily bent the waitress’s ear and munched on fries. Henley took advantage of the momentary distraction to assess the mother. She wore her auburn hair cropped in a short cap of messy curls, her faded blue jeans had a blown-out knee, and she wore a Foo Fighters tee shirt under an open blue oxford. And she had on Chucks. Henley realized the woman had her hand out. It shamed her to be caught acting rudely. “I’m Maggie Gael.”

“Henley Elliott. Your daughter’s charming, and you’re right not to apologize for her. I’m afraid she took me by surprise though; I couldn’t quite keep up.” Henley didn’t touch people if she could help it, but the other woman’s hand remained extended. Left with few options, Henley fit her palm into the one that was offered. She had a firm, warm handshake. Henley found little she couldn’t admire about the woman. But that didn’t mean she didn’t make Henley nervous.

“Not a lot of people can keep up with her.” Maggie laughed. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Enjoy your lunch and the town.”

Maggie hadn’t walked but a few feet when the name rang a bell for Henley. “Wait a second.”

The redhead paused and turned.

“Maggie Gael? As in the author, M.A. Gael?”

“Guilty.”

“Are you serious? I love your books. You’re the reason I bought a Kindle.” Maggie quirked one eyebrow in an affectation Henley had always envied. “I prefer a real book. I enjoy the feel, the smell of the paper, growing a collection, seeing it on the shelf. There’s a certain satisfaction you lose with electronic books. And of course hardbacks are the best. But I travel a lot and, you know, books are heavy.” Her voice trailed off at the end, and Henley felt awkward. What was wrong with her today? She moved anonymously from one place to the next, and finding it easy to converse with strangers made that possible. But twice today she’d found herself tongue-tied while speaking with other adults and struck completely dumb by a small child. She sipped her water and wished her car would appear outside, completely repaired and ready for a quick getaway.

“Would you care to join us?”

“Pardon me?”

Maggie’s quick laugh was too warm for Henley to find insulting. “Would you like to join Tala and me? At our booth?”

Henley played with her water. She knew she shouldn’t; it wasn’t wise. She wouldn’t be here long enough to make friends, not that she would if she were. It was safest to keep to herself and avoid the inevitable questions. But she’d been living alone on the fringes of society for such a long time, she couldn’t deny the spark of longing the invitation ignited. It wouldn’t hurt to join the mother and her precocious daughter, would it?

She looked up to find Maggie gently smiling at her. “Don’t think about it too hard. Go with your gut. It’s rarely wrong.”

“Mine usually is,” Henley said. And bit the inside of her cheek.

“Oh, sweetie.” Maggie held up a hand. “Your business, I won’t pry. Oh, that’s such a lie; I’m totally going to pry. I can’t help it; I used to be a journalist a lifetime ago. Tala is genetically inquisitive. But I do have more patience than the ten-year-old, and I can promise no interrogations during lunch, okay?”

“Okay.” Henley grabbed her water and slid from her stool. “Ten?”

“Yeah, she’s small for her age. She also got her stature from me. But she swears she’s going to have a growth spurt soon and be tall like her daddy. It could happen—she’s got a lot of growing to do yet.” Maggie glanced up at her. “How
tall
are you?”

“Five foot eleven barefoot, and most shoes make me six foot or taller.”

“Damn, I wish.”

“It’s not everything it’s cracked up to be. Clothes that fit well are hard to find, and what I do find is often priced beyond my budget. I have big feet, which I think is a balance thing. Almost as a rule they don’t make pretty shoes in Sasquatch size. Don’t get me started on men.”

Maggie laughed and slid into the booth beside her daughter. “I think we’re going to get along fine, Henley.”

• • •

Henley stood in Maggie’s spacious kitchen, a glass of Moscato white wine in her hand, surrounded by the wonderful scent of roast beef and battling a vicious bout of anxiety. When Henley had reluctantly admitted to Maggie that her car had broken down, the author had jumped into action. She had sweet-talked the mechanic into rescuing Henley’s Grand Prix. Maggie strong-armed Henley into dinner before dragging her into the market, where an odd, elderly woman who gossiped nonstop while riding a scooter followed them down the aisles and openly stared at Henley. Henley’s arguments and refusals, no matter how reasonable, were shot down. In Maggie’s car, on her way to Maggie’s house, the fear had crept in on Henley. Her eyes shifted from side to side as the town got smaller behind them. She didn’t really know this woman. Didn’t know that she was safe. Her heart thrummed in her chest, and she heard the rush of blood flowing past her eardrums.

Maggie must have sensed Henley was scared, for her tone became soft and calm. Not unlike the tone Henley had once used to talk to patients. When she was asked about her plans until her car was ready, Henley barely managed to mutter, “I have to find a motel.”

Instead of the house Henley had expected, they’d approached a lovely cabin in the woods set far back from the main road. As soon as she’d seen the small wooden structure, with its wide, covered porch and rocking chairs, Henley had felt a strange sense of peace. Maggie had quietly explained the cabin belonged to her and that it was used as a guest cottage. Then she’d offered to rent it to Henley. Henley wanted to refuse, knew she should refuse, but the cabin and its woodland setting proved too much temptation.

“I’ve overwhelmed you, haven’t I?” Maggie asked as she seasoned vegetables.

“Can you read minds as well?”

“No.” Maggie laughed. “But you have this look on your face like you got ran over with a steamroller. It’s not the first time I’ve seen that particular expression. I’d apologize but—”

“You detest hypocrites?” Henley interrupted.

Maggie laughed again. “Well, yes, but I was going to say I’d be lying, as I’m not sorry.”

A door slammed and a rich baritone called, “I’m home. Someone better come hug me.”

“Ah, shit,” Maggie mumbled. Tala’s whoop echoed through the house followed by a happy shriek and laughter. “I sincerely apologize for anything my husband says or does. He’s a wonderful man. A kind, loving, funny, warm man. But he is awful with new people. He makes a bad first impression. Second and third ones can be not that good, too.”

A tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man stepped into the doorway with Tala dangling upside down from his arms. Tala’s green eyes and dark sandy hair was reflected in the masculine form. They made a striking family. He stared at his wife, his expression intimate. “Hey, rock star. You lose something? I found this in the living room.”

“Daddy,” the giggling girl wailed in good humor. Henley felt like an intruder. And when Mr. Gael’s gaze found her, his expression chilled. He clearly agreed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had company.”

“Aidan, sweetheart, this is Henley Elliott. Henley, my husband, Aidan.” She whispered to him when she kissed him hello and eased Tala to the ground. “Henley is new to the area, and I invited her over for dinner—which will be ready in about ten minutes. Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll get it. Finish what you were doing. Monkey, why don’t you tell me about your doctor’s appointment today?”

“I grew, Daddy.”

“I knew it! Told you, didn’t I?” Their voices faded as they moved further from the kitchen.

“Okay.” Maggie blew out a breath. “That went well.”

“Really?” Henley took a deep sip. She could feel the tension that lingered in the room. The temperature had dropped significantly as soon as Aidan Gael found her in his kitchen.

“Our story is a complicated one, and I won’t bore you with all the details. When we finally thought we’d found our happy ever after shortly following Tala’s birth, a man came into our home before dawn and took me from our bed by gunpoint. Aidan found me in the woods, beaten, shot, and bleeding. The bastard stood over me taking aim for a kill shot.” Maggie borrowed Henley’s glass without asking and took a sip of wine. “He saved my life. But Aidan is a tad overprotective. Once he gets to know you and lets down his guard, you’ll see he’s a person worth knowing.”

“Did he kill that man?”

“No. I did.” Maggie took another sip. Henley took the glass back. Their fingers brushed over the stem. “He tried to crush Aidan’s skull with a rock. I used his gun on him. The one he’d meant to kill me with.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

“It bothered you—taking a life, for the right reason, to save a life. And it hurt you to tell me about it. But you did so I would understand why your husband automatically distrusts a stranger in your home. And I’ll give him leeway if he’s rude. You have a good heart, Maggie, and an honest soul. Both are admirable.”

“Can you read minds?”

Henley laughed. “I’m a psychiatrist. Not practicing at the moment, by choice. But it can be hard to turn it off.” She’d been honest, but Henley still felt the weight of a lie.

“Good God almighty, don’t tell Aidan that. He’ll never relax with you.”

Carter McAlister had plenty of experience with late-night calls. He’d been a cop far too long not to. Of course, since he’d moved to Trappers’ Cove, they were infrequent and limited to drunk and disorderly, kids tipping cows, or domestic disturbances. But last night, he’d gotten a call from Aidan Gael. That was unusual by itself, and the request didn’t fit into any category of call Carter was familiar with in the Cove. Aidan wanted him to check out Henley Elliott.

He thought of Aidan as a brother-in-law because he’d thought of Maggie like a sister since they’d been in grade school. She and his little sister Jenna had remained inseparable until Maggie had moved to Minnesota. It had taken years for Jenna and Aidan to become family, but the two men had bonded much quicker. Maggie was happier than Carter ever remembered seeing her. That was all he needed to accept the man as a brother. And he didn’t mind the fact Aidan wanted to protect his family from all the dark, ugly, twisted people who walked the earth.

Carter knew more than most how dark, ugly, and twisted people could be.

He doubted the woman he’d seen hiking on the side of the road yesterday bore the Gaels any ill will. But checking her out wouldn’t be a hardship. It would ease Aidan’s mind and lighten the atmosphere in Maggie’s home, and getting to know the citizenry was part of a small-town sheriff’s job. He’d assured Aidan he’d look into it first thing this morning.

Carter finished his coffee, opened the back door, and whistled for Dublin. The dog came bounding over a hillock, his tongue lolling, and Carter thought, not for the first time, that Dublin definitely had a better grasp on how to enjoy life than the average man. The dog brushed his body against Carter’s leg as he came through the door. It was unnecessary, and Carter took it as the hello he figured it was meant to be. Dublin narrowed in on his full bowls.

“Want to go with me today, boy? Want to go for a ride, stupid?” Carter asked as he put on his tie, star, and firearm. The dog’s tail enthusiastically thumped against the kitchen floor, but his muzzle didn’t lift from the water bowl. Carter smiled. “You’ve got five minutes.”

He ambled through the clapboard house he’d called home these last eighteen months, collecting his wallet and keys, tossing Dublin’s ball into the basket of dog toys in the corner, and kicking his dirty socks out of the walkway. He enjoyed keeping his home neat but wasn’t obsessed with minimizing the clutter caused by daily life. He’d had his own things shipped out from Philadelphia, and they mixed with the furniture that had already been here to create a confusing menagerie that pleased him. He couldn’t keep his gaze from running over the pictures on his shelf. It was all family and friends, his life in photos. The ones that had been gifts were in frames. The ones he’d deemed important enough to display were propped up here and there, corners curling. He ignored the one frame that lay facedown among the rest of his memories.

He rubbed the heel of his hand against the side of his thigh absently. He knew it was ghost pain. His wound was long healed. Only an ugly scar he could barely feel through the starched linen of his sheriff’s uniform remained. But whenever his attention was drawn to that particular photo, his hand went to his thigh. He made a mental note to call the woman who did his heavy cleaning weekly and remind her not to set it upright.

Carter stepped out onto the front porch. He liked it in town. He could’ve lived there, as the job included a modest apartment above the sheriff’s office. But the views and the privacy the lake house afforded had called to him. Carter’s family had worried about his sanity when he’d decided to move here; they’d pushed him to rent a place, not buy. He’d almost let them talk him into it. But less than a week after he’d arrived, holing up in the Gaels’ cabin, this place had gone up for sale—partially furnished. He strapped his firearm in its holster and felt the early morning sun on his face, and pride swelled in him. This was his. He glanced down as the dog joined him. He’d made the right decision.

He had to drive through town as his place was on the opposite side of the forest from the Gaels. Carter waved to the people who called to him and Dublin, who had his head hanging out the passenger-side window. He slowed as he neared the driveway. He knew you could miss it if you weren’t prepared. When he saw the wind chimes, he smiled and cut the wheel to the right. Aidan had the driveway put in when they’d bought the land from the Blacks, but Maggie had insisted it interfere as little as possible with the land. It was wide enough for one vehicle, but it wasn’t paved in the traditional sense. He crawled his Jeep over the cobblestones at a careful seven miles per hour. A few yards in front of the renovated cabin, the space opened up enough to allow for more than one car to park, though it was empty today.