The dog appeared at his side, and Connor absently ruffled his head.
Nora eyed the beast. “Big dog.”
“He’s a Newfoundland. Bran—” he gestured at her “—I want you to meet Nora.”
On cue, the dog lifted his right paw. Nora knelt and solemnly shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bran.” It was all the encouragement Bran needed. He surged forward and gave her a generous lick on her face, the force of it knocking her backward. Only Connor’s hands under her arms saved her from a close encounter with the churned soil. With an ease that left her humming, Connor righted her. For a moment they stood, flushed face to flushed face.
Connor looked away first. “So.” In fascination she watched the flex of the muscle along his lean jaw. “Why don’t I show you how I plan to turn this place into a landscaping and nursery outlet, and what I’m going to need in terms of legal know-how?”
Lost in a whirlpool of emotions and questions, Nora tried to catch hold of the conversation. “What outlet?”
“The Primal Rose.” Connor turned and smiled with undisguised pride. “Follow me.” He gestured toward the fields.
Just like old times, Nora mused. Picking up her briefcase, she caught the now-crushed flower in her lapel.
Connor Devlin was starting a business here. He really had come home to stay.
Oh, God, what was she going to do?
Chapter Three
Late Saturday night Nora’s flashlight cast a thin yellow line into the dark forest that ran between her house and the Miller farm. No branches rattled, no animals rustled. It was not a night for anything living to be about, yet the whispers of memories drew her deeper into the woods.
A cloak of clouds pressed close to the treetops. The still shroud smothered the night sky, rendering it flat. It was as if there were only two planes—the clouds and the earth—and all that dared to intervene did so at their peril.
Panic’s wings stirred and fluttered, but Nora kept her gaze glued to the faint illumination. Each step along this path covered a moment of her life: a child’s escape from nightmares; a teenager’s captivation with adventure; a woman’s dreams shattered by heartache.
She remembered the first weekend after she and her sisters had arrived in Arcadia Heights. A snowstorm had dressed the bleak landscape in a white glittering cape. In wonderment, Nora had stood at the edge of the yard, outfitted in her new red winter coat. Familiar only with the ins and outs of city apartments, she hadn’t known what lay beyond the sentry of trees.
Aunt Abigail had found her and had coaxed her into the forest. At this bend Nora had encountered her first deer, a doe with soulful brown eyes. On that old pine tree, Abigail had shown her how moss grew. Nora had taken to the woods, transfixed by this mysterious new world. It was on one of her daily excursions that she’d discovered her special retreat.
Still, her visits had been restricted to daylight. Only one person had drawn her out into the night and shown her its unique magic.
Connor Devlin.
With him, the trees had rubbed their branches in harmony to the lake’s soft music. With him, there had been no twilight fear, just the thrill of laughter and freedom. When he had left, the darkness once more had ceased to be safe. She had not ventured into the night again. Until now.
This Saturday evening, penitence drove her past the good memories to those hidden in the blackest shadows. Guilt lingered on the edge of her conscience, out of sight but not out of mind. All her life she had stood tall, but shame had almost brought her to her knees this afternoon. Still, she hadn’t told Connor about Abby. Couldn’t—not when so many questions remained unanswered.
Who was this man who had fathered her daughter? Would he become a part of his child’s life? Or would he desert her the way he had deserted her mother?
Abby. She’d never known abandonment, never felt the fear. For her a closet was just a place to hang clothes; sunset was merely the end of a day. Her daughter didn’t know the bitter bite of betrayal. She didn’t know about the monsters that came with nightfall.
But Nora did.
The flashlight beam hit a wall of brush, and she halted. The path broke into two long dark tunnels. One led to the Miller farm, the other to the lake. She glanced to her left, and her breath hitched. Rather than a corridor of trees, she saw a never-ending closet, ink-black with no means of escape.
Was the pounding in her ears her heart beating? Or the sound of a terrified child’s fists against a locked door?
A small whimper welled in her throat and broke past her clenched teeth. Nora spun around and ran back toward the only real home she’d ever known.
The cry of pain brought Bran to an alert stance and Connor to a stop. Was it animal or human? Then he heard soft footfalls ahead of him and to his left. He hefted the large flashlight, securing his grip on it, and rushed forward, the dog in an easy lope beside him. When he reached the fork, he panned the beam along the path leading to the McCall house.
Nothing. Several inches of pine needles covered the trail. There were disturbed areas, but he couldn’t tell whether they were recent.
He hesitated. He should mind his own business and continue to the lake as he had planned. He shook his head and then set off along the trail away from the water. It was probably only a kid on a lark, but he should check the situation out. Arcadia Heights might be far removed from the city, but crime had a way of finding the innocent everywhere. With four women living next door, it would be neighborly to scout the area.
Right. And someone would sell him a rosebush to plant in the Alaskan tundra.
Within minutes he reached the perimeter of the McCall yard. A figure stepped into the golden pool of light thrown by the porch light. Nora. What had she been doing in the woods?
Connor started to call out but stopped. What would they have to talk about? Discussing business with an attractive woman at nine o’clock on a Saturday night would be grim. The cold snap of the air and the hushed silence of the woods called for cuddling by the lake, not business.
His mouth curved in self-mockery. Given Nora’s “I’m attorney, you client” attitude she’d worn this afternoon, he had a snowflake’s chance in hell of getting close to her. He turned.
“Who’s out there?” Nora’s voice wobbled and then firmed.
Damn. He had forgotten to switch off his flashlight. Connor sighed and called out. “It’s just me, Nora.”
“Connor?” She came to the porch’s edge.
He crossed the yard and halted at the base of the steps. “I was taking a walk in the woods and heard a sound. I was checking it out when I saw you.”
“Oh.” Nora wrapped her arms around her middle. “Well, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Abby likes to wander in the woods. I hope that won’t disturb you.”
Memories of another teenage girl in the forest ran through his mind. He braced his foot on the lower step while Bran took off to explore. “Like mother, like daughter.”
A faint smile lit her face, as if a lamp glowed deep within her. “No, Abby is much more adventurous than I was. Sweeter. Stronger.” Nora’s eyes were smoky crystals, luminous with a mother’s pride.
A thorny mix of regret and envy twisted within him, scraping him raw. It was if he was looking at a scrapbook of his life and finding empty pages. Where there should be pictures of a family, there were none. His father had been killed in a car accident before he was born,