It washim.
He was back.
I’vetakenmyfirststeps down the floral-lined aisle in Henry Evans’ backyard when my skin begins to prickle as though I’m being watched. Duh, I tell myself, shoving the feeling aside. Of course, I’m being watched. All eyes are on me as I lead the way towards the altar with my friend and fellow bridesmaid, Lucy, following a few paces behind. I glance around at all the eager, smiling faces, making eye contact with a few and nodding. I hate being the center of attention, so it’s unsurprising that I’m feeling a little discomfited right now.
Still …
The feeling persists. And it’s more, somehow. I feel flushed, no … hot all over. Burning. Aflame beneath the scrutiny of a mystery observer. I take another step, casting my gaze again over the crowd of guests. There are my boys, seated towards the middle on the right. There’s Mrs. Abernathy and the other Historical Society ladies. Then, the members of the library’s Mystery Mavens book club are directly behind them. Near the front, I see Chief Hudson … then Mrs. Walker, the mother of the groom … and then—
And then my secret observer is no longer a secret.
Before my eyes have even fully taken in what I’m seeing—who—I know.
Our eyes lock.
I stumble.
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be real.
But it is. Because standing beside Mrs. Walker …
Is Riley.
Bysomemiracle,I’dmade it to the end of the aisle and taken up my position alongside Lucy and across from the groomsmen. I wish I could say for myself that it was a beautiful ceremony or that the sunset over the lake at our backs was the perfect setting for the event, but I can’t. I’d only heard those things exclaimed by others throughout the night, but I hadn’t experienced any of it. No, I’d stood there, completely frozen, my muscles rigid and my eyes downcast, afraid to look up for fearof meeting his searing gaze once more. My mind raced with the implications of his presence.
Of him being back.
A legitimate rush of fear flooded my system and stole my breath.
Oh sure, there were plenty of other emotions elicited by the sudden return of Riley Walker—pain being an ever-present and all too familiar one, also anger, frustration. Sadness. Still, fear was the emotion that prevailed. And it’s that fear that once again wracks my body as I slide to the floor of my bedroom and finally allow myself to succumb to the tears that have been threatening all night.
I’d truly believed I’d never see him again, not after so many years—and I know exactly how many it’s been, right down to the very day.
3
Riley
Mymomisquietas she climbs from the truck. It’s late, and I know she’s tired, but she also seems contemplative. As if lost in thought. I think I know what’s coming, and I’m not looking forward to it. She had a fantastic night watching her golden boy son marry the love of his life.
Now, though?
Now, it’s time to turn her attention to theotherson. The disappointment. The loser. Or maybe that’s just me projecting.
Her movements are slow as she climbs the porch steps, pausing to pull her keys from her purse and unlock the door. I follow heracross the threshold and down the hall to the kitchen, feeling as though I’m headed to the gallows. This conversation has been a long time coming, though—almost seventeen years—and I knew as soon as I made the decision to finally return home I’d have to have it. That there would be explanations owed.
I stop in the archway, leaning against the frame, and watch as she approaches the coffee maker. She swaps out the filter and dumps in a pack of grounds, then sets it to brew. Her face is in profile where she stands, reaching into an upper cabinet. So much has changed. Her hair, pulled back into a neat bun for the wedding, is streaked with slightly more grey than brown, and the lines around her mouth and eyes are more pronounced than I remember. Are they laugh lines? I hope so, though I don’t doubt my extended absence has contributed to more than a little worry on her part.
She’s different in other ways, too. She seems … softer, maybe. Quieter. More subdued than the no-nonsense and at times bossy woman who’d raised me. Not that I should be surprised. I left, and the world went on without me.
Things changed. People changed.
My mother got older. She’s semi-retired from the bank now, only working a few afternoons a week. Most of my old friends have moved away. Aidan is a cop—a good one, from the sounds of things—and his sidekick, Ava, who was also a cop, is gone. Killed as the result of an investigation gone wrong. I still can’t wrap my head around that one.
Mom pulls two mugs from the cupboard and sets them down loudly on the counter, then she drags over a stool to reach for the Baileys.
So … yep, looks like we’re doing this. And clearly, she expects we’ll both need to be caffeinated for it, and fortified with booze.
