Grave Risk. Hannah Alexander

on which the town had been built. Or it could be that he’d always felt this way because of the company he’d kept.

      Far too long ago, he’d forgotten how to appreciate true beauty. He glanced at Jill. Inner beauty.

      “That was a long time ago,” Jill said. “I was needed here at home.”

      “Noelle needed you?”

      Jill shook her head. “The sawmill needed me.”

      “The sawmill? But you have scads of extended family members to run that.”

      “Had. Past tense. My father, grandparents and others ran it until…” She swallowed and glanced back toward the cemetery briefly. “There was a horrible…incident in which my father and grandparents were crushed to death by a load of logs eleven years ago.”

      He felt a chill at her words. He could see how the memory affected her even after all these years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

      “Why would you? It isn’t as if we kept up with each other’s lives. Anyway, my cousin and I had to take over.”

      “So once again you gave up your own dream in deference to your family?”

      She glanced up at him. “You make it sound as if that’s a bad thing.”

      “Giving up your dream for someone else’s?”

      “I was needed. Having loved ones who need you isn’t such a bad thing. Besides, I got a job here in town as the school nurse.”

      “And how about Noelle? Did she ever have to give up her dreams and career and join the family business?”

      He heard the censure in his own voice a fraction of a second before annoyance registered in Jill’s expression.

      Suddenly, this was not boding well for a comfortable reunion. Maybe they did need to rehash ancient history. Or maybe that history wasn’t so ancient.

      Jill felt the prickle of antagonism make a flying leap up her scalp. “You already apologized for being a jerk, Rex. Why do I get the feeling you didn’t really mean it?”

      “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was going to say that.”

      “You didn’t realize it? My little sister lost her mom before she was old enough to understand the meaning of death.”

      “You lost your mother, too.”

      “I was eight years older than Noelle. She got stuck with me—a bully of an older sister and a very poor substitute for a set of parents—because, in truth, our father pretty much abandoned us emotionally from that point on.”

      “You never told me that.”

      “I was ashamed to admit it even to myself at the time.”

      “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

      “No, you shouldn’t have, but you did.” She paused beneath a willow tree, arms crossed. “I’ve got a good rant going and I want to finish it for once. I realize you always resented Noelle because her need for love interfered in our relationship—”

      “You’re right, and I was very wrong—”

      “But in truth, for her sake, I should never have gone away.”

      “I’m sorry, I can’t agree with that. You’re saying you should never have become a nurse?”

      Jill hesitated. “I left home too soon. She wasn’t ready to be abandoned by the person she needed the most. I could have put nursing school on hold for a couple of more years.”

      “And yet, you’d already put your life on hold for three years after graduating from high school, watching all your friends go away to college.”

      “I went to college.” She could hear the defensiveness in her own voice.

      “You drove to School of the Ozarks at Point Lookout for classes, then back home at night to be with Noelle.”

      “I got the preliminaries out of the way.” He was still itching for a fight, was he? She could give him one. Strangely, though, she didn’t really want one. Not with him. “Not everyone has to leave home as soon as they graduate high school.”

      “You’re trying to tell me you were the only person who could take care of Noelle? At that time you did have extended family.”

      Jill wasn’t prepared to explain to him about the concern she’d had for Noelle’s safety at that time in their lives. Would Noelle still even be alive if I hadn’t been so obsessed for her welfare? That was a time when my OCD came in handy, hard as it’s always been.

      “You made that sacrifice because of your unique ability to love,” Rex said, as if he’d read something of her thoughts in her expression—much as he used to do. “Few people I know have that ability.”

      The sudden gentleness in his tone undercut her momentum. She paused and looked at him, and felt an unwanted pang of regret.

      What if they hadn’t broken the engagement?