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Five thirty-seven in the damned morning.
Calm down. It was just a dream. A nightmare. The same one that destroys your sleep two or three times a week.
Dear Lord. She let out a long, shaky breath and pushed the hair from her eyes. The house was quiet. Still. Only the rumble of the furnace creating any noise, but she did hear the muted pop of the newspaper deliveryman’s old crate of a car, backfiring a street or two over.
If only she could stop this!
At least she hadn’t woken her kids, nor, it seemed, her dog. A tawny, long-haired mutt whose square face suggested boxer while the wispy hair on his legs hinted at some kind of shepherd hidden somewhere in his lineage, Reno had been a family member since the day Cade had walked out the door. Rachel had rescued the gangly pup and he’d been the glue that had held the family together during those first painful weeks and months of the family shattering. From the first night, he’d claimed the foot of the bed as his resting spot and Rachel had never found the energy to force him into his kennel downstairs. Also, there was the simple fact that she felt safer with the dog in the room with her now that Cade was gone. She no longer even entertained the idea of making Reno sleep downstairs, and besides, she figured she had more important issues to deal with, or “bigger fish to fry,” as her father had always said. He might still, but she couldn’t be certain because she didn’t talk to her dad too much these days.
Another issue to deal with.
As if she didn’t have enough. She pulled the duvet over her head and burrowed deeper into her pillow. She still could get a few more minutes of shut-eye, if she could find a way to nod off again, preferably catching up with sleep that was devoid of nightmares. If she was going to dream, why not about something happy? A vacation in the Bahamas? Christmas with her grandparents? Or hot sex with some leading man? She could think of a few she wouldn’t mind fantasizing about....
But real life butted into her attempts at sleep and after a few fitful minutes, she reached for her phone on the bedside table, knocking over half a glass of water in the process. “Crap!” Great way to start the morning. She glanced at the phone and saw the date. No wonder the nightmare had been so real. “Crap, crap, crap!”
Twenty years to the day.
It was on this very date two decades ago when she’d lied to her parents about spending the night with Lila, then, instead, had sneaked off to the old cannery.
Biggest mistake of her life.
“Deal with it,” she said and stared up at the ceiling in the dark as she had so often. Too often. There was no going back to sleep now.
Yawning, she snapped on the bedside lamp. Warm light flooded the small room, with its sloped ceilings, the bedroom she’d once shared with Cade. Her heart tugged a bit, which infuriated her. No one could piss her off like her ex.
Don’t think about him!
So what if you bought this cottage together or that your kids were born here, before the remodeling of this room, which had once been an attic? It’s over And it has been for a long time.
“Idiot,” she said aloud, then forced her thoughts back to the coming day and its significance.
If this—what would you call it? Anniversary? God, that sounded bad—but if this day wasn’t bad enough as it was, Lila had scheduled the final meeting of the high school reunion committee for this very night.
How sick was that?
When Rachel had pointed out the significance of the date and suggested they find another time, Lila’s pretty face had shadowed for a second. “I know,” she’d said, worry lines etching her forehead. “But it’s the only night that works and it’s the last weekend I’ve got available before the reunion. It’s weird, but”—she’d offered Rachel a shaky smile and a shrug—“what’re ya gonna do? It’s been a long time, Rach.” Lila had glanced away.
They’d been standing on the wide front porch of Lila’s hillside home, shadows lengthening as the sun settled in the west. Lila had swept her gaze away from Rachel and over the rooftops of the town to the cold gray waters of the Columbia River where several fishing boats were visible. “It’s hard for me, too, you know,” she’d admitted, letting her usual cheery facade slip a little.
Rachel did know. Lila, it seemed, had never gotten over Luke, and the reason had become clear later that year when she’d borne Luke’s son just before Christmas.
“But we have to move on, Rach,” Lila had said, turning back to face her friend, her blond hair catching the fading sunlight. “And if I can, then anyone can. Right?” She’d tilted her head. “Including you.”
Rachel hadn’t argued. And how could she? Lila not only had moved on, she’d moved in with and eventually married Cade’s father, a man over twice her age. All this despite bearing Luke a son, a boy he’d never had the chance to meet.
Because of you.
Because you killed your brother.
“No,” she said out loud.
In less than a month the damned reunion would be over and maybe then—oh, God, please—she could get on with her life. Today was just another day. Just. One. More. And she’d go to the meeting tonight, even if it killed her. She couldn’t let that one horrid mistake haunt her forever.
Two decades was long enough.
She glanced at the digital clock, glowing blue on the bedside stand.
Still not quite six.
