guess so.”
“Well, don’t. You know Karah Lee and Taylor better than that. They’re good folks. They’re not going to dump you out in the cold.”
She gave a one-shoulder shrug. She’d been dumped out in the cold before.
“Karah Lee’s nothing like your mother,” Blaze said, reading her mind. “And Taylor’d be mortified if he knew you were comparing him to your wicked stepfather.”
“Eeww.”
“Sorry. You just don’t have anything to worry about. I thought you and Karah Lee were both all set to move into that house Taylor bought up on the hill near Jill’s place.”
She paddled in silence as they drew near to the dock once more. “Yeah, well, I’ve been doing some thinking, too, and I just don’t think it’ll work. I may have other options, though.”
“What other options?” He maneuvered the canoe against the dock and reached out to steady her.
She took his hand and climbed out, managing to retain some dignity as she did so. “I’m still thinking on it. Better get to your chores.”
Chapter Nine
Rex stood at the edge of the cemetery as the crowd slowly dispersed. Funerals had high attendance here in the rural areas, and folks lingered after the interment, as if their lingering might set the memories of their loved one more completely in their hearts.
There was going to be a special evening meal back at the bed and breakfast, hosted by the women from Edith’s church. Half the town would probably be there, maybe more. Last night, during the visitation at the funeral home, the line of people paying their respects had filled the building and spilled out onto the front lawn.
It had been a beautiful testament to the love this town held for the former high-school principal.
Now, watching the crowd mingle in conversation groups among the tombstones, Rex saw one lone figure separate from the rest. Jill.
During the funeral, she had remained detached from Edith’s family, sitting with her sister and brother-in-law, Noelle and Nathan Trask. Edith’s extended family had filled the front half of the small church, and other mourners had overflowed the little sanctuary.
Surprising himself, Rex strolled toward that lonely looking figure in the dark gray dress. Her brown hair had been pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck, though some strands had refused to behave and fell in tendrils to her shoulders. Her eyes, devoid of makeup, were red-rimmed, her nose pinched.
He hadn’t seen her since the afternoon of Edith’s death; the tragedy had thrown the clinic—indeed, the whole town—into turmoil, and Jill wasn’t working at the clinic this week.
As he studied that grieving face, he remembered how beautiful Jill had always been to him. She had a mouth that was slightly wide for a classic beauty, but could spill into a smile that could dazzle the sun. Her blue eyes, often sober and serious, could suddenly soften with warmth.
She had walked to within ten feet of him before she looked up and saw him. He could see the conflict in her expression. She was too close to turn away and avoid him without being obvious about it, but she just as clearly didn’t want to talk to him right now. He could tell her emotions were too close to the surface.
“Jill,” he said quietly, “I’m not going to bite, and I don’t want to make things difficult for you.”
Her eyes darted up in a quick glance at him, then away again. “I’m just embarrassed, is all. I was rude to you the other day, and I apologize.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I wasn’t offended. It was a horrible time for you.”
“Thank you, but I’m still sorry. You must have thought I was still upset with you after all this time, which would be childish.”
“Edith’s death struck you a nasty blow. It was a blow for everyone, but I know how much she meant to you.”
Another glance shot his way, this time a little longer. She was feeling awkward, he could tell.
“Did Cheyenne tell you why I came to Hideaway?” he asked.
She nodded, glancing back toward the crowd around the grave. “After I jumped her about it. Karah Lee said you didn’t want me to know you were here until you had a chance to talk to me.”
“That’s right.”
“Well? I didn’t get a call from you, and you didn’t come to my house.”
“I’d intended to speak with you over the weekend.”
She spread her hands. “Well, now you’ve spoken to me. I don’t see why you’re trying to make such a big deal out of it. We had a broken engagement half a lifetime ago. We’re adults. We can behave like it, right?”
“I never completely forgave myself for my behavior at that time. I was a jerk.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so we were both jerks back then. Now can we get to work on the hospital designations and stop rehashing ancient history?”
He felt the sting of her words. He felt foolish again. “An excellent idea.”
She stepped past him toward the far edge of the cemetery.
He caught up and fell into step beside her. “I hear you never got married.”
She frowned. “And I hear you got a divorce. We’re still rehashing, here.”
Obviously, she wasn’t quite as ill at ease around him as he’d imagined her to be. “I don’t recall relaying the information to anyone here about my divorce.”
“Since when do you have to tell anyone? We have a deputy in town who makes it his business to check people out online. Tom’s never mastered the skill of keeping a secret. I guess that’s why you decided to come to Hideaway?”
He blinked at her, not quite sure what she meant. Jill had apparently retained that special ability to throw a conversation off center with a simple statement or question. “Excuse me?”
“You know, Hideaway? As in, people come here to hide away, either from past tragedy or from danger.”
“Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?”
She slanted a glance at him. “You were the one making a big production out of coming here, and you’re calling me melodramatic?”
“You’re absolutely right.” He would lose this argument if he continued it. “So this place really is a hideaway. I never knew that before. Tell me about it.”
She watched him for a moment, as if trying to determine if he was patronizing her, then she relented. “For instance, Cheyenne came here initially because of the tragedy of pronouncing her sister dead after an automobile accident. Karah Lee came here to escape her father’s political manipulation—he was a state senator before his murder this spring. Willow Traynor—who will someday become Mrs. Graham Vaughn, even though she doesn’t seem to realize it yet—came to escape a killer who stalked her from Kansas City. You don’t know them yet, but you’ll probably meet them.”
“What about you?” he asked.
“This is my hometown.”
“Last I heard, you were living and working in Springfield.”
Her steps slowed as they drew near the city square—a cluster of old brick buildings that faced outward to an encircling street. He had always thought this was one of the most beautiful little towns in Missouri.
That could be a simple reflection of the beauty of Table Rock Lake, which surrounded Hideaway peninsula, 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