understood Juliette Bancroft or even liked her. She was right. Dylan was a good father and a good man.
Even before she’d fallen in love, she’d made a connection, and for the first time in a very long time, she’d shared her life and dark, painful secrets. She’d shared with Dylan because she felt safe with him. She trusted him, and he’d trusted her enough to share his life with her, too.
But only to a certain point. She hadn’t told him the truth about what she really did for a living, and he’d lied to her about the woman sitting across the table. He’d told her Adam’s mom was a waitress. He hadn’t trusted her that far. She’d lied to him, and he’d lied to her. Perhaps not the best beginning for any relationship, but they could work through it.
Dylan was being a big hypocrite about it all now, but that would shortly change. When he realized she wasn’t a gossip reporter, he’d have to apologize. She’d forgive him, but she just hoped he didn’t wait too long. She wasn’t a patient woman.
And Adam. During the short time she’d been in Gospel, she’d come to care for him, and his anger hurt almost as much as his father’s.
Chapter Fourteen
The cord to Hope’s Discman bumped against the front of her gray sweatshirt as she jogged toward Main Street. Her sunglasses shaded her eyes from the morning sun, and through her earphones Jewel provided commiseration for her breaking heart. She sucked cool mountain air into her lungs as her ponytail bobbed and swayed on her head.
Dylan hadn’t called. He hadn’t called the night before, and he hadn’t called that morning. Hope wasn’t good at waiting. Not when it felt as if her whole life were at stake. She’d given him until nine-thirty that morning before she’d pulled on her jogging shorts and set out for his house.
She was in love with him, and she was certain he cared about her, too. It had taken three years and more than a thousand miles to find him. They could work through their problems because she wasn’t going to give up now, but the closer she got to his house, the more her stomach twisted into a knot. As she entered town, she wasn’t so certain showing up at his door was the wisest move, but she’d had enough of waiting around for him. She had to know for certain what he was thinking and feeling. And exactly
She rounded the corner at Hansen’s Emporium and slowed. A crowd had gathered outside the Cozy Corner Cafe half a block away, and it appeared to be a film crew, photographers, and a chaotic mess of spectators.
Immediately she recognized the back of Dylan’s battered cowboy hat in the crowd. She pushed her headphones down around her neck, and the knot in her stomach tightened. The closer she got, the tighter it got.
Dylan’s voice rose above the chaos. “Ms. Bancroft has no comment,” he said.
The throng moved as one down the street, past Jim’s Hardware, as reporters shouted questions that were never answered, photographers snapped pictures, and film footage rolled. Above it all, Hope heard Adam’s cries and his pitiful pleas to go away and leave his mother alone. The mob circled Dylan’s truck, and Hope squeezed her way through the shifting wall of reporters. Over the shoulder of one of the photographers, she saw Dylan shove Juliette and Adam into the cab of his truck and shut the door. She pressed forward and broke free of the melee.
“I didn’t do this,” she yelled as she grabbed his forearm.
His jaws were clenched and his eyes burned as he glared at her. “Stay the hell away from me,” he said and shook off her grasp. “And stay away from my son.” He fought his way through the crowd to the driver’s side of his truck. He fired up the engine, and if the reporters hadn’t quickly moved aside, Hope wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have mowed them down.
As they pulled away from the curb, Hope looked into the cab at Juliette’s pale complexion, bleached so white no amount of makeup could hide her shock. She caught a glimpse of Adam’s face, of the tears rolling down his cheeks, and her heart hurt for him. For herself, too. It was over. She’d lost Dylan. He would never believe her now.
Numb disbelief settled over her as she glanced at the photographers snapping photos of Dylan’s fleeing truck. She held her hands up as if she could stop it all, the cameras clicking, the film rolling, Dylan leaving. Then suddenly it did stop. The crowd dispersed and she was left standing on the sidewalk alone, rooted to the spot where Dylan had told her to stay away from him. Where her life had fallen apart.
She turned to the people standing behind her, in the doorways of shops and spilling from the Cozy Corner. She recognized the faces of those who lived in Gospel, and she also recognized the stunned confusion in their eyes.
Hope didn’t know how long she stood there, staring down the street, nor did she know how long it took her to walk to Timberline Road. Her feet felt leaded, her hands cold, and her heart so battered it hurt her to breathe too deep.
Instead of entering her house, she walked to Shelly’s back door and knocked. She didn’t know what her friend had heard or what she believed, but the second Shelly opened the door, Hope burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” she asked and herded Hope into the kitchen.
“Have you talked to Dylan?”
“Not since the two of you borrowed my hiking boots.”
Hope threw her sunglasses on Shelly’s counter and wiped her moist cheeks. “He thinks I told the tabloids about him and Adam,” she began. Shelly handed her a Kleenex and Hope told her the whole story, starting with waking up in Dylan’s house and finding Adam staring at her. When she was finished, Shelly didn’t even look surprised.
“Well, I’m glad it’s all out in the open now,” Shelly said as she took two wineglasses from the cupboard. “A little boy shouldn’t have to live with that kind of secret.”
“You’ve always known?”
“Yep.” She opened the refrigerator and poured zinfandel from a box. She held out a glass for Hope. “Dylan is a great father, especially considering he has no help, but sometimes he is so protective of that child that he is bound to hurt him.”
Hope took the glass and looked down into the wine. It wasn’t even noon, but she didn’t care. “I think Dylan hates me now.” She thought of the way he’d looked at her. “No, I
“Of course I believe you. I know how you feel about Dylan, and besides, I doubt you would have told me you worked for
“Thank you.” Hope took a long drink of her wine.
“Don’t thank me. I’m your friend.”
She looked over the top of her glass at Shelly’s curly red hair and freckles, her “Garth Rules” T-shirt, huge belt buckle, and tight Wranglers. “I’m glad,” she said. It had taken her three years and more than a thousand miles to find not only Dylan, but Shelly, too. Together they moved to the small dining room off the kitchen, and Hope opened up to Shelly about her feelings for Dylan.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with him,” she said, “but I couldn’t stop it. I knew he would hurt me, and he has.” She told Shelly about her marriage to Blaine and why it had really ended, and when she was through, she thought she should feel better, somehow purged, but she didn’t. She just felt more hurt and broken.
Wally came in for lunch, then took off on his bike for Dylan’s, once Shelly had called to make sure it was okay for him to be there. While Shelly had stood with the phone at her ear, Hope had sat frozen in her chair, her ears straining to hear the sound of his voice coming from the receiver. Her heart had been lodged in her throat, and when she realized what she was doing, she stood and went into the living room.
Over the course of the next few hours, she and Shelly polished off several more glasses of wine and a box of doughnuts.
“I think you’re really tanked,” Shelly told her when she couldn’t stop crying.
“I’m usually a very happy drunk,” Hope sobbed. “But I’m emotionally distraught!”
