crossed her face. She’d reached out to him, and he’d responded with platitudes. That just added to his guilt.
“I appreciate that.” Her formal response showed that she’d gotten his message—he didn’t want to be involved.
It wasn’t Susannah’s fault that he resented her presence. She wasn’t to blame for the fact that she was the one person in the world whose situation released all the painful memories he’d tried so hard to repress.
Okay. He forced himself to think this situation through rationally. The truth was, he was stuck with the woman. If you were a police chief, part of your responsibility was dealing with people in grief. He’d handled that before. He could handle it now.
And then Susannah would go away and take her reminders with her.
“Do you want to ask me about the accident?” Survivors did, sometimes, as if understanding how a tragedy had occurred would make it easier to bear.
She shook her head, then cradled her hands across her stomach, seeming to take comfort from the child she was carrying.
“No, I don’t have any questions about that. When the police came to tell us, they explained that he’d apparently swerved to avoid a deer and lost control.”
“That’s right. Several passersby stopped right away to help, but there was nothing they could do.”
He shifted his weight, suppressing his longing to get out of there. He had to stay as long as she had questions for him.
But no longer than that. Someone like his father would probably know what to say to ease this for her. He didn’t.
The silence stretched, broken only by the tick of the mantel clock.
“Thank you.” She managed a smile. “I guess you think my coming here is odd.”
“Not really. People often want to see the place where an accident occurred, so they can understand and, well, move on with their healing.”
He hoped that sounded comforting. Maybe comfort was the reason she liked the cottage. He couldn’t deny the air of comfort it represented.
“You’d prefer I did that healing somewhere else.” Her direct gaze challenged him.
“I didn’t say that.” He’d thought it, but he hadn’t said it. “It has been six months, though.”
Anger flared in her eyes. “Meaning after six months I should be healed?”
“No, of course not.” He hadn’t healed after five years. “I just meant that—” He wasn’t doing this well at all. “I suppose I’d have expected you to come sooner, if you felt the need to.”
The anger faded, leaving her face pale and pinched. “I kept telling myself I didn’t need to come here. But eventually I realized that wasn’t true. I had to come.”
He wasn’t one to give advice on this subject, but he had to try. “You have the baby to consider.” Maybe if his child had survived—
She crossed her arms around herself, something fierce and maternal in the gesture. “My baby’s fine. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger her.”
Her movement cut him to the heart. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t cope with this woman’s trouble, not when it held a mirror up to his own.
He retreated a step. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
Her face tightened. “Thank you.” Her words were formal. “I can handle things on my own.”
It was the dismissal he’d been waiting for. He gave a brief nod and went out the door, trying not to act as if he were escaping from something.
Chapter Three
“Go in peace, and may the peace of God go with you.”
The minister’s benediction echoed through the high-ceilinged sanctuary of the small church and resounded in Susannah’s heart. Peace. Once again Lakemont seemed to bring her the peace that had been missing in her life for months.
She bent to pick up her coat and handbag from the burgundy pew pad, reluctant to face the probable curiosity of the congregation about the stranger in their midst. But her time here should be easier now that people knew who she was. She could ask questions about Trevor freely.
But she wouldn’t be asking any questions of Nathan.
She’d puzzled over his attitude since their conversation the day before, but she still hadn’t reached any conclusions. When he’d come into the cottage knowing who she was, he’d seemed sympathetic. But the longer they’d talked, the more edgy he’d become.
Finally it was as if he’d shut down. He’d been unable to relate to her any longer.
Some people were made uncomfortable by others’ grief. It could be that, but she didn’t quite believe the answer was that simple. She’d sensed some strong emotion moving behind his solid exterior. Whatever that feeling had been, he clearly hadn’t meant to share it with her.
She moved into the aisle, grasping the carved arm of the pew for balance. Her nerves came to attention. Nathan was just a few people ahead of her. He held his father’s arm, and a sulky Jen trailed behind them.
Nathan in a suit and tie might have looked oddly formal, since the man seemed to prefer jeans when he wasn’t in uniform, but that wasn’t the impression she got. His assured stance didn’t change no matter what he wore.
The line of people worked its way slowly back down the aisle toward the door. Everyone in the small sanctuary seemed determined to be friendly. Susannah had to stop every few feet to respond to introductions and welcoming words. She evaded invitations to come again and tried not to be aware that Nathan could probably hear every word she said.
What difference did that make? She wasn’t trying to impress Nathan Sloane.
Maybe not, but she couldn’t ignore him, either.
She reached the door at last and shook hands with the young pastor. When she stepped out into the sunshine, she found that the party from the lodge was waiting for her. Daniel came forward, hand outstretched.
“Glad you joined us at worship, Susannah. If we’d known you were coming, you could have ridden with us.”
The older man’s open, welcoming smile was a marked contrast to Nathan’s closed and shuttered expression. And to Jen’s totally bored look, for that matter.
“That’s kind of you. It was a lovely service. Your congregation is certainly friendly.” Except, possibly, for one member.
“We try to be.” Daniel, apparently feeling his son’s silence to be oppressive, gave him a sharp look. “You might like to join us for the potluck supper we’re having on Wednesday evening. You’d be more than welcome, and you don’t have to bring anything.”
Nathan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if eager to get moving. “I doubt Susannah’s interested in getting that involved with the church. Not that you’re not welcome,” he added, apparently feeling he’d sounded eager to be rid of her.
Which he was, as far as she could tell. She’d like to know why.
“Thank you. I’ll see how things are going by Wednesday.” She took a step away from them. “I think I’ll take a walk through town, as long as I’m here.”
“You know, maybe I’ll join you,” Daniel said.
“I thought you were going to relax and read the paper after church.” Nathan’s tone clearly conveyed disapproval.
“Later.” Daniel nodded cheerfully to his son. “You go ahead and take Jen home. I’ll ride back with Susannah.” He glanced at her with a smile. “If that’s all right with you.”
“I’d