True Devotion. Marta Perry

toward her. In fact, jogged did seem to be the operative word. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and his dark hair clung damply to his head. He wore sweats and sneakers, and he’d obviously been running.

      He held the door for her. “Good morning. Where are you off to this morning?”

      He was trying to be pleasant, and that had to cost him an effort.

      “I’m planning to have a look at what’s left of the vacation house.” Because your father told me yesterday that Trevor did that when he was here. “I suppose Enid and I really ought to do something about the property.”

      He frowned. “You can’t do that.”

      She lifted her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

      He planted a large hand on the porch post, as if to bar her way. “I mean, you shouldn’t go over there. Not alone. The place is an overgrown mess.”

      “All the more reason why I should have a look.” She brushed past him and started down the steps.

      He followed her. “Look, I’m telling you, it’s not safe. They never did a proper job of razing the house. You shouldn’t be wandering around there—”

      “Alone,” she finished for him, her voice tart. “I know. I get the message. I’ll be careful.” She started toward her car.

      He caught her arm, turned her so that she faced the police cruiser, and opened the door.

      She impaled him with her coolest stare. “Are you arresting me?”

      “No, I’m taking you to the Laine house.” At her incredulous expression, he gave an exasperated sigh. “If you’re that determined to go, I’ll take you. I don’t want to have it on my conscience if you fall down and break an ankle. Can you wait until I shower?” He swung the towel from around his neck and wiped his face.

      “I don’t need your help.” Well, that sounded petulant. She tried again. “I appreciate your offer, but I’ll be perfectly fine by myself.”

      “Look, if you’re going, I’m going with you, so you may as well get in the car and save us both an argument.”

      His face looked as if it had been carved from the same rock as the cliff above them. Clearly he didn’t intend to give an inch. If she drove alone, he’d probably follow her.

      She slid into the front seat of the cruiser. With a nod that accepted her capitulation, he closed the door.

      He got in and started the car while she surveyed the dash with its police radio.

      “I’ve never been in a police cruiser before. It’s intimidating.”

      His lips twitched. “You haven’t seemed too intimidated so far. Exactly the opposite, as a matter of fact.”

      “That’s just because you’re overprotective. Ordinarily I’m perfectly agreeable.”

      Fifteen minutes ago she’d been worrying about how she’d face him. Now they seemed to have reached a new level of communication, and she wasn’t sure why. Because she’d forgotten about his history while they were busy arguing?

      Maybe. Or maybe he’d forced his way past the reminder she represented of his own grief.

      Whatever had caused it, she could only be grateful. She didn’t want to walk on eggshells around Nathan for the rest of her stay. She settled back against the seat as the cruiser pulled out of the parking area.

      The road wound along the lake, a gray ribbon unfurling through a patchwork of gold, green and red. The maples were already dropping their leaves, and the sumacs sent red spires toward the sky like so many torches.

      “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She glanced toward him, to find him frowning at the road ahead.

      “What? Oh, sure.” Clearly he hadn’t been thinking about the scenery.

      Was he thinking about what a nuisance she was? Or speculating on how soon she’d be out of his hair?

      A wave of annoyance went through her. “Look, you really didn’t have to do this.”

      Nathan didn’t look at her, but his eyebrow rose slightly. “I thought we were finished with that conversation.” He slowed, flicking the turn signal. “We’re here, anyway.”

      He turned into the lane. She remembered the road as wide and well kept, but now it was a rutted, overgrown trail through a tangle of undergrowth. She probably wouldn’t have been able to pick out the turnoff if she’d been alone.

      “I see what you meant about the place.” She winced as a dangling crimson vine of Virginia creeper slapped the car’s windshield. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for damage to the police cruiser.”

      “It’s been through worse.” He steered around a deep pothole and rounded a clump of rhododendron.

      They emerged into the open by the water. Nathan stopped the car where the lane petered out. He leaned across her to gesture to the right.

      “That’s all that’s left, I’m afraid.”

      She remembered a gracious clapboard house with a wide porch overlooking the lake. Now blackened timbers jutted upward, and a tangled mass of wrought iron sagged to the ground where the porch had been.

      She unbuckled her seat belt and slid out without waiting for Nathan to help her. She stood looking, trying to imagine what the fire must have been like.

      She swallowed hard, saddened at the devastation. “Depressing, isn’t it?”

      He came around the car to stand next to her. “I’m afraid by the time the fire trucks got here, it was past saving. That happens too often with vacant cottages. I always wondered why Trevor’s parents didn’t either rebuild the house or sell the land.”

      That would have been her late father-in-law’s decision. He’d always decided everything, while Enid smiled and nodded agreement.

      “Trevor came over when he was here.” She repeated what Daniel had said, trying to make sense of that visit.

      Nathan nodded. “I remember he mentioned wanting to see the place. Was he planning to rebuild?”

      That was obviously something she should have known if she’d been aware of Trevor’s visit to the lodge.

      “I don’t think he’d decided yet.” She leaned back against the car, absorbing its warmth. A ray of sunlight, striking through crimson leaves, gave the illusion the fire still burned. “I remember how much he loved this place when he was a kid.”

      He leaned against the car, next to her, apparently content to let her take as long as she wanted. “Had you ever been here with him?”

      “Not after we were married. I was here as a child, though.”

      He turned to look at her. “You were? I guess that means you knew Trevor for a long time.”

      “Our mothers were close friends, so we grew up together. I came to the lake for a visit when I was ten.”

      “Did you enjoy yourself?”

      She pressed her palms against the car as that visit came to life in her memory. “It wasn’t a happy time for me. My mother was in the hospital, and my father sent me to Enid while she had surgery.”

      “That’s hard on a kid. You must have been scared.” His voice warmed with sympathy.

      “Scared, mad, you name it. You know what it’s like when you sense that something’s terribly wrong and no one will tell you the truth?”

      He seemed to understand what she didn’t say. “Your mother?”

      “It was cancer. She didn’t make it.”

      She wouldn’t tell him the rest of it—that her father, always dependent on her mother’s strength,