Return of the Light. Maggie Shayne

      “Knew me well enough to let me believe we had something special, then left me in the dust, wondering what truck had just run me down.”

      She lowered her eyes.

      “You trusted me then, didn’t you, Dori?”

      “People change.”

      “You sure as hell proved that.” He sighed. “But I’m the same guy I was back then. A little older. A little wiser, maybe. But you can still trust me.”

      She sighed. “I haven’t changed as much as you think I have,” she said softly. “I couldn’t be who I was. Not here. Not in this town.”

      “It wasn’t the town holding you back, Dori. That was all you.”

      She sighed. “Maybe. Maybe I was just afraid.”

      “Maybe you still are.”

      She was quiet a moment, seeming to think things over. “I was thinking about reserving a table at the Holiday Craft Fair. Doing tarot readings for people.”

      He lifted his brows. “Yeah?”

      “I wasn’t sure what the reaction would be, though.”

      He shrugged. “As a rule, the word psychic doesn’t stir up the same feelings as the word Witch.”

      “I could really use the extra money.”

      “So do it. Give folks a little credit, Dori. Just ’cause this isn’t a major metropolitan city doesn’t mean we’re all ignorant here. This is Vermont, for goodness’ sake. Most open-minded state in the union.”

      She lifted her head. He saw a light in her eyes for the first time. Maybe she was a little excited about the idea of cracking the door of that broom closet where she’d been hiding, letting a bit of light shine in. He hoped so.

      “Meanwhile, keep an eye out for those kids. Okay? They haven’t done any harm so far, but that lake is no place for a bunch of rowdy teenagers.”

      “I’ll keep an eye out.”

      He finished his coffee, got up from the table. “It was good talking to you again,” he said. “It’s been way too long.”

      “We’ve talked. At the diner.”

      He set his cup in the sink and went to the door, stomped into his boots. “I barely get a word in at the diner. They keep you too busy. Or maybe it’s that you’ve been actively avoiding me.”

      She brought his coat from the back of his chair and handed it to him. “I guess I’ve been feeling guilty. About the way we left things.”

      “The way you left things,” he corrected. “The way you left, period.”

      She pursed her lips, lowered her head. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Jason. It’s long overdue, but—”

      “But you’re not sorry you left?”

      “I had to leave. For me.”

      He nodded, looking a little sad. “I hope you found whatever it was you needed. I hope it was worth what you gave up to get it. ’Night, Dori.”