Unraveled (2 page)

Only the whir of the ceiling fan answered back. Typical. He hadn’t responded to the dozens of other requests she’d flung toward heaven. Why would today be any different?

A lone tear slipped from her cheek and plopped on the box that housed the only evidence of her past. She wiped it away with the hem of her skirt. Tugging a pale blue t-shirt from her dresser drawer, she wrapped it carefully around the box and slid it down inside her tote bag. Rising to her feet, she drew a ragged breath and glanced around her room one more time. Then she towed her luggage out into the living room, found her phone, and searched for a taxi service.

By the time the cab pulled up, she was waiting on the curb, sweaty and disheveled. As the driver loaded her suitcases in the trunk, she glanced up the street toward her deserted car. They’d come a long way from an old log house on Alaska’s rugged coast to busy, eclectic northwest Portland. Not just in miles, either. It felt like a lifetime since she crossed the mighty Columbia—just a girl, her faithful car, and a life-changing secret—and fell in love with the skyline silhouetted against the breath-taking backdrop of Mount Hood. Now she was headed back to the one place she’d tried so hard to avoid … home.

Lauren touched Granny’s locket to her lips, but the metallic coolness offered little comfort. She eyed the white paper sack in the seat pocket in front of her and willed the twin-engine Cessna toward solid ground.
Please land, please land, please land.
While soupy fog and limited visibility were probably nothing for the pilots in the cockpit, she’d never been a fan of the bumpy decent into her hometown.

Gray asphalt appeared below the rain-streaked window next to her and the plane landed with a bounce before barreling toward the mountains that hemmed the runway. Lauren clenched the seat in front of her until the plane rolled to a stop next to the flat-roofed cement building that served as the airport.

“Sorry about that landing, folks,” the pilot said through the loudspeaker. “Welcome to Emerald Cove, Alaska. Local time is 10:15 a.m. We sure appreciate you flying with us today. Bags can be claimed inside momentarily.”

She sagged against the window, the plastic cool against her skin. Finally.

The cabin filled with chatter and activity as all twenty passengers tried to stand at once. Cell phones chimed and fragments of conversation mingled with the whine of the plane’s propellers. Lauren retrieved her iPhone from her new Kate Spade purse. Sucking in a breath, she glanced at the screen. Who stands their fiancé up and doesn’t even bother to call?

Cut him some slack.
The voice of reason whispered in her head.

Jaw clenched, she stood and freed her tote bag from the small overhead compartment. He better have one heck of an apology whipped up. A little groveling wouldn’t hurt, either. Clutching a bag in each hand, Lauren joined the line of passengers crowded in the narrow aisle. They inched toward the exit, slowed by an elderly couple fumbling with their winter coats and carry-ons.

Lauren stepped out of the plane and onto the steep stairs. Sheets of rain pelted her face. She gasped and put up a hand to shield herself from the deluge.

“Of course it’s pouring. Perfect.” Sweeping her wet, unruly mane of curls out of her eyes, she descended to the tarmac. A man clad in yellow rain gear stood outside the automatic doors and beckoned impatiently, waving his greasy-gloved hands over his head. The other passengers stumbled toward him like a small herd of stunned animals. Lauren trailed after them, cringing as water sloshed into her peep-toe wedges.

Inside the airport, she swiped the water from her face and followed the pack to the black conveyor belt that snaked through baggage claim. Men in plaid button down shirts, worn jeans, and steel-toed boots mingled with senior citizens, eager to begin their Alaskan adventures. A noxious odor of gasoline and stale coffee permeated the waiting area. Yep, still smelled exactly the same.

Rivulets of water dripped down her sundress as she spotted one of her black suitcases wedged between coolers and toolboxes.

“Excuse me, please,” she pressed into the crowd, chasing after her luggage as it cruised away. She lunged for her suitcase and tugged on the handle. It didn’t budge and she lost her balance. A large, warm hand grasped her elbow, saving her from an embarrassing fall.

“Easy, there,” a deep voice said, “why don’t you let me help you?”

Her pulse quickened and her breath caught in her throat as she regained her balance and stared up into cornflower blue eyes.

A mixture of surprise and recognition flashed across the man’s face.

“Blake?” Was it really her childhood sweetheart?

He seemed taller, shoulders broader than she remembered. Sandy blond hair crowned his forehead in disheveled spikes. A faint pink tinged his high cheekbones. She let her eyes rest on the stubble that clung to his angular jaw. A hint of his cologne lingered in the air, catapulting her back in time to a warm, spring night that changed everything.
No. Not now.

“Hello, Lauren.” His lips pressed together into a tight smile. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has.” She shivered at the sensation his strong, capable hands were sending down her arm. No, that was crazy. It couldn’t be his touch. She glanced down at her wet, rumpled skirt. She was just cold. Dry clothes and hot coffee would warm her right up.

“Can I give you a hand with those bags?”

Lauren stepped away, tipping her chin. “No, thanks. I got it—”

Blake scratched his head. “Is somebody picking you up?”

She scanned the faces of the people nearby. “I thought my brother Matt would be here.”

Blake yanked a large suitcase off the belt and parked it at her feet.

She raised her eyebrows. “How do you know that’s mine?”

“Purple ribbons on the handle. You always loved purple.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks at his recollection and she dipped her head, wondering what else he remembered about her. “I sent him my flight info. Maybe he didn’t—”

The familiar chime of an incoming text message interrupted her and they both reached for their phones.

Sis, found Granny wandering downtown again. Taking her home now-late to pick you up.

“Oh, no.” Lauren’s stomach plummeted to her toes.

“Everything okay?”

“It’s my grandmother. I—I’m not sure what’s going on. Matt’s taking her home.”

“I could give you a ride,” Blake said. “I got what I came for.” He held up a large Fed Ex envelope with his left hand.

Lauren glanced at his ring finger.

No wedding ring.

She hesitated. His kindness was the last thing she deserved. After all this time, the guilt still managed to seep in, no matter how many times she shoved it aside. “I can wait for Matt. Really. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Blake quirked one brow, eyes locked on hers. “It’s just a ride, Lauren.”

She glanced away, keenly aware of her pulse pounding under the weight of his stare. What harm could come of a short ride through town with an old friend?

“Alright.” She smiled for the first time since her flight left Portland. “I’ll let Matt know.”

“Is this yours, too?” He nodded toward the suitcase gliding toward them on the belt, a frayed purple ribbon twisted around the handle.

“Yes.” She shivered again at the memory of his hand on her elbow.

Blake effortlessly stacked both of her suitcases on a luggage cart while Lauren fired off a quick text to Matt. Tucking the envelope inside his navy blue raincoat, Blake leaned on the luggage cart’s handle, propelling it toward the parking lot and into the downpour. He stopped and Lauren’s eyes swept over a new charcoal gray Toyota truck with an extended cab and a canopy on the back.

“Where’s the old Chevy?”

“Sold it.” He heaved her bags into the back of the truck.

“You loved that thing.”

He slammed the lid shut. “Too many memories.” His gaze held hers as he moved closer, jaw tightened, and opened the passenger door.

Her cheeks warmed again and she scrambled into the truck, a slide show of their times together in that old truck playing in her mind. So awkward. Suddenly she wished she’d waited for Matt.

Blake closed the door and jogged around the front of the truck. As he slid into the driver’s seat, Lauren’s eyes fell on a glossy brochure lying on the dashboard.

“Emerald Cove Rafting and Kayaking. What’s this?” She stared at a photo of a bright red raft careening through river rapids. Water sprayed up over the nose of the raft, dousing the wide-eyed passengers in their shiny yellow rain gear.

“My brother and I started a new business together.” Blake pulled the envelope from inside his jacket and placed it behind her seat. She wiped her hand on her skirt and picked up the brochure. The guide paddling the raft leaned into the rapids. She recognized the ruddy cheeks, the cavernous dimples. “Is this
you
?”

He frowned. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I thought—well, I heard you taught in a little village school somewhere. You were always so good with kids, coaching basketball and everything. I’m sure they adored you.”

“I’m still a teacher. I would love to coach basketball again, if Mr. Hoffman ever retires. But six years in Tyonek was long enough.” His eyes flicked between her and the windshield. “It was time to come home. Perhaps you can relate.”

She dragged her fingers through her tangled curls. “I’m not staying.”

“Just here to plan the wedding?” Blake nodded toward the ring on her left hand. “Nice rock, by the way.”

Pain knifed at her heart as she studied the two-carat diamond solitaire Holden chose for her. Flawless and nestled in a platinum setting, just as she hoped it would be.

“My fiancé thought it was time he met my family.” She forced a bright smile but her heart quaked. Never in a million years did she expect to spend her first few minutes back in Emerald Cove with Blake, talking about her absent fiancé.

Blake studied her. “Let me guess. He couldn’t make it?”

She nodded and stared out the window. “He had an emergency.”

Lady Antebellum’s song “Dancing Away With My Heart” came on the radio and Blake jabbed at the power button.

“Not a country fan anymore?”

“That song’s overplayed,” he muttered.

Not that she would admit it to him, but that song elicited the same response from her every time it came on the radio. Even if they were her favorite band, those particular lyrics worked a number on her heart.

“I saw your dad the other day at the hardware store. He said you’re a nurse now?”

She shook her head. “Not quite. Just a medical assistant.”

“That’s not the same thing?”

She smiled. “No.”

“Why do I feel like there’s more to this story?”

She shrugged. “There might be. But let’s talk about you. Tell me more about this rafting and kayaking thing.”

“I see you, avoiding the question. That’s cool.”

“Some might call it avoiding. I prefer re-directing.”

He shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Whatever. We can talk about me. We opened Memorial Day weekend. I can’t believe how quickly things have taken off.”

As Blake regaled her with an instant replay of his first few weeks as a small business owner, Lauren stole a glance out the window, eager to get a glimpse of her hometown.

Oversized recreational vehicles crowded the two-lane highway, lumbering toward town. The windshield wipers kept a steady rhythm through the incessant drizzle. A pungent aroma of salmon and saltwater filled Lauren’s nostrils. As they approached Emerald Cove’s one and only traffic light, she studied the four corners of the intersection. The same bank, gas station, hardware store and motel still occupied prime real estate, and welcomed weary travelers to one of Alaska’s premier destinations. Blake brought the truck to a stop as the light changed from yellow to red.

“When did they put in a real traffic light? Remember when it just flashed yellow all the time?”

He nodded. “Apparently it caused a huge uproar. People got into fights after city council meetings, neighbors stopped speaking to each other … Crazy, right?”

Lauren shook her head. “Small town politics. What’s everybody so wound up about?”

“I think it’s more about the motivation behind the change. Once the cruise ship passengers started coming on shore, the intersection was so backed up the shuttle vans couldn’t get through. Passengers complained they didn’t have enough time to shop. Hence, the new light.”

Lauren craned her neck to see around the motor home in front of them. “Shopping? What shopping?”

Blake laughed. “You’ll see.”

The light changed to green and they cruised down Main Street.
Whoa. Storefronts once deserted now had a fresh coat of paint, modern signs, and flowers in the planters. Despite the gloomy weather, several couples mingled on the sidewalks.

“Is that a new clothing boutique? Who opened a Thai restaurant?”

“Voila.” Blake made a sweeping gesture with his right arm. “The new and improved Emerald Cove.”

“Change is good, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” He shot her a meaningful glance. “You tell me.”

Lauren’s heart lurched in her chest. “What do you mean?”

He flipped on his blinker and turned off Main Street onto Hillside Drive. “Change is hard, especially if people can’t deal with the fallout.”

She reached for the locket again, tugging it back and forth across the chain. “You aren’t just talking about tourists and cruise ships, are you?”

Blake cut his eyes toward hers and his gaze lingered on the locket. “Maybe I’m not. I want—”

“Don’t. Please.” Her pulse pounded in her ears. “I can’t do this today.” She clenched her clammy hands into fists and turned away.
This was a huge mistake.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the cab. “I’m sorry,” Blake said.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. There he was, always the selfless one, apologizing to her. Bile rose in her throat. If he only knew the truth. The hurt and shame she tried to outrun threatened to engulf her like a tidal wave. Panic welled up inside, her legs trembling as she fought the urge to open the door and jump out. They couldn’t know. She simply couldn’t let anyone find out.

Gravel crunched under the tires as they left the asphalt behind and meandered through a dense forest. The narrow road carved out by her grandparents more than fifty years ago hugged the hillside. Catching a glimpse of the amber-stained logs and rust red metal roof of her childhood home, the memories came rushing back—all the times he’d driven her up this hill, one hand on the wheel, the other slung across her shoulders.
Don’t.

Brushing aside the images of her life entwined with his, she focused instead on the blue green waters of the cove stretched across the bay, where the mountains on the other side seemed to rise into the heavens. Snow-capped, razor sharp peaks protruded from a shifting cloudbank and a lone ray of sunshine reflected off a fishing boat in the distance.

The Inn at the Cove sat in the middle of a narrow peninsula, nestled against a backdrop of stately Sitka spruce. The front yard jutted out into the quiet waters that lapped against the rocky shoreline. Adirondack chairs still circled a fire pit and the porch swing swayed in the breeze. Mitchell, Lauren’s golden retriever, bounded off the top step and charged toward the truck, barking.