The Secret Wedding Wish. Cathy Gillen Thacker

more potent teacher than experience, particularly bad experience. On the other hand, he had been caught out in foul weather, with only camping gear to protect him. It wasn’t an experience he would wish on anyone else. Particularly if there were thunderstorms, a hopelessly headstrong woman, and twelve-year-old boy involved. “You can’t seriously think she would head off with a backpack and tent if bad weather is brewing,” Thad said finally.

      The Hart brothers exchanged glances and shrugged. Finally, Cal spoke for all of them. “She might if she were hell-bent on proving a point. Not that it really matters. Ten to one, if it does rain, they’ll end up in the park lodge before nightfall.”

      It wasn’t his business, Thad told himself as he left. If Janey’s brothers were willing to let her tough it out and make her own mistakes, he surely ought to be able to do the same. Especially if the ultimate result was Janey letting Chris pursue his dreams. But even as Thad pushed the problem from his mind, an image kept coming back of a tall slender woman with thick chestnut hair and amber eyes.

      Chapter Two

      “Are you sure you want to do this, Mom?” Chris asked, as Janey lugged the sleeping bags and backpacks out into the living room.

      For the tenth time that morning, he walked over to the telephone answering machine and checked to make sure there were no new messages. “I mean, camping out was never your thing. It was something Dad and I did.” His face took on that pinched look it got whenever his father’s name came up.

      The guilt she had been feeling ever since he’d begun asking to go to camp intensified. Her son might be only twelve, but he was growing up so fast now. And she wasn’t just talking about the growth spurt he’d been undergoing that had him—at five foot ten—standing an inch above her and left his gangly arms and legs looking too long for his body. His face was undergoing changes, too. Oh, he still had the dusting of light brown freckles across his sturdy Hart nose, and Janey’s stubborn chin and Ty’s deep blue eyes, but his boyishness was fading. In its place was a hint of the strong and gutsy man he would become. “I’m sorry I haven’t taken you,” Janey told him sincerely.

      “That’s okay.” Chris rushed to reassure her, as he straightened the Carolina Storm cap he wore overtop of his close-cropped chestnut hair, with the brim turned to shade the back of his neck. Chris looked at Janey with enough understanding to break her heart. “I know you’ve been real busy. And that money’s tight right now.”

      “Not that tight,” Janey said, trying to shake off a pang of guilt. Maybe that’s what this whole got-to-play-hockey-to-live thing with her son was about. Maybe he just wanted her attention. Wanted to somehow fill the void in his life left by his dad’s death two years before. Janey had assumed that Chris had worked through his grief, just as she had, and accepted the fact that from now on it was going to be just the two of them. But the fact Chris had elevated Thad Lantz to hero status—and then reached out to Thad in such a personal, unexpected way—told her that was not the case.

      Her son wanted a man in his life he could hero-worship the same way he had Ty. For reasons unbeknownst to Janey, Chris had bypassed all five of his uncles and selected Thad Lantz to fit the bill. A fact that put her in a very awkward situation, the physical attraction she felt for Thad notwithstanding.

      “What about our mail?” Chris worried out loud, looking out the window at the black mailbox next to the curb. “What are we going to do about that?”

      “We can get it tomorrow evening, when we come back home,” Janey promised.

      Chris looked even more pained.

      “I’ll just check, and make sure there isn’t anything out there now,” he said, racing out the door and down the sidewalk.

      Watching him open the metal lid, Janey sighed. She knew what he was looking for—a response from Thad Lantz.

      Which was another reason she had to get her son out of town. She wanted Chris to be in a positive frame of mind when she explained to him why he couldn’t go to summer hockey camp this year. And she didn’t want any of her brothers around when she did so.

      Chris peered at the sky a short while later as they lugged their gear out to the minivan. It was light gray, with darker clouds here and there. “Kind of looks like rain.”

      “I looked at the weather radar when I got up this morning,” Janey reassured him. “The storms are supposed to hit well east of Lake Pine. We should be okay.”

      THAD HAD NO PLANS for the weekend, but figured he might as well enjoy his time off while he could. So he booked a room at the lodge at Lake Pine, figuring if the weather held he could rent a boat and take it out on the lake and do some fishing, and if it didn’t, well, the restaurant there was fair, the view scenic. And as long as he was headed out that way, he figured he could do the Sir Galahad routine, if necessary.

      By the time he was halfway there, the skies opened up. It was still raining cats and dogs as he turned his Lincoln Navigator in to the deserted parking lot of the campsite registration center late Saturday afternoon. Thad wasn’t surprised to see the flat-roofed concrete building was empty except for the uniformed park ranger seated behind the desk. If it weren’t for his prickling conscience—the feeling that his actions had somehow goaded Janey Hart Campbell and her son Chris into an ill-scheduled backpacking trip—he wouldn’t be here, either.

      “Hi, I’m Thad Lantz.” He held out his palm.

      “Coach for the Carolina Storm. I recognize you.” The ranger, a clean-cut man in his late forties shook hands with him. “Hell of a run the team made last year. Think you’ll make it to the Stanley Cup this year?”

      Thad smiled, relieved to meet a fan. He rarely played on his own celebrity. Today was the exception and he would use it to the hilt.

      “One can hope. Which in a roundabout way is why I’m here. Family of one of my players are supposed to be backpacking here this weekend. Janey Hart Campbell and her son Christopher. Given the ugly turn in the weather, there’s been some concern.” And all on my part, Thad added to himself. “Since I was on my way out here, I volunteered to check up on them, make sure they were okay.”

      The ranger hesitated. “Normally, this isn’t the kind of information we’d give out, you understand.”

      Thad nodded soberly. Normally it wasn’t the kind of information he would be asking for, either. But something about Janey Hart Campbell’s vulnerability had gotten to him yesterday. And he had seen, firsthand, just how stubborn, fiercely independent, and single-minded she was. Plus, he knew the fact she and her son were here at all today was probably his fault, for letting his conversation with her end without some sort of solution to the sticky situation. And that was unlike him, too. He was a take-charge kind of guy. Used to handling all sorts of people. He should have insisted he be able to talk to her son, even if it was only to tell Chris gently there was nothing he could do for him about hockey camp this year. But he had let the problem linger on because he had wanted a reason to see her again.

      “But under the circumstances I guess I can tell you they were in here about three hours ago and headed out on the trail,” the ranger continued.

      As Thad had driven closer, he’d seen the torrents of rain pounding the area. “Did they have enough time to get to their assigned campsite before the rain hit?” he asked hopefully.

      The ranger shook his head. “It’s a good four-hour hike, without packs. And it started raining about an hour and a half ago.”

      “Is there any way to check, without hiking it myself, to make sure they’re okay?”

      “We don’t take jeeps out on those trails unless it’s an emergency, and right now, without any lightning or thunder—”

      The door opened behind Thad. He and the ranger turned simultaneously. “Well, speak of the devil.” The ranger grinned. He nodded at the drenched Janey and her son Christopher, as they unbuckled their harnesses and set down their packs.

      They couldn’t have been