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Chapter Seven
Jonas stood beneath a spreading maple tree on the rock-strewn hillside, an arm braced against the trunk. A haunted look in his gray-green eyes, he gazed silently at the steeply sloping roof of the chalet across the meadow below him.
It was the end of summer, and the mountain air was noticeably cooler these days. Leaf season was just around the corner and that meant a fresh influx of tourists. All to the good. Bridget’s shop would do more business. He wanted her to do well but he felt a little silly for caring so much when she was so skillful at keeping her distance. His New York buddies would laugh if they knew and tell him to give it up, that there were other women he could have just for the asking, without the heartache.
The few happy times he’d shared with Bridget—so far, the photo shoot in her shop had been the high point of his return—had been outnumbered by the tense ones. There was a volatility just under the surface every time they met that exploded all too readily, fueled by passion and self-protective frustration that was driving both of them a little crazy.
Underneath all the drama—perhaps that was inevitable, he thought ruefully—he sensed something essential that she was reluctant to share with him. He didn’t have to know every detail of their ten years apart and he sure as hell didn’t have the right to be jealous of whatever happiness she might have found in that time. Jonas hadn’t asked many questions but he knew she was holding back, emotionally speaking.
It made sense, looking at it from her point of view. She had a young daughter and they were very close. The last thing Jonas wanted to do was come between them. He’d been through psychology rotation, studied family dynamics, and he could make an educated guess: Molly was likely to see him as competition for her mother’s attention.
The kid was smart and—thanks to her grandmother, not Bridget—a little spoiled. Maybe headstrong would be a better word. But he intended to keep those opinions to himself. It wasn’t his place to tell Bridget how to raise her daughter.
The depths of his feelings where she was concerned made him uneasy. He was a doctor—he was supposed to have some control over his emotions.
Of course, he had to admit to some good old-fashioned jealousy: Molly was another man’s child. A man Bridget had probably loved. The thought bothered him more than he wanted to think about. He loved her more now than he had ten years ago, and he wanted to make her love him. It didn’t do any good to remind himself that he couldn’t make Bridget love him. Without knowing quite how, he had pushed her the opposite way.
Jonas saw Bridget come out to the clothesline in the yard behind the chalet and begin to take in the wash. Like a lot of Vermonters, she believed in going green and not using a dryer if she didn’t have to. She reached up to pop off the clothespins one by one, her slender body arching with each motion. A tormenting knot twisted his stomach, a hollow ache to touch her and hold her and physically prove that he loved her. Except that wasn’t the way.
Damn. He shouldn’t be watching, even though he’d just happened to see her. She was totally unaware of his distant presence.
Jonas tore his gaze away from her. What had possessed him to buy the land adjoining her parents’ farm? He must have been out of his mind. That was as good a way as any to describe his mental state since seeing her again. Nothing he’d done had been rational, from up and leaving the New York clinic to buying the Hanson place.
He stared at the ground beneath his feet, realizing that he could wear a path to this tree if he wasn’t careful. The protectiveness he felt for her didn’t give him the right to watch her, even if this vantage point was only a few hundred yards from his house and provided an unlimited view of what went on around the chalet.
Of course, since their last encounter at her house just after Molly’s accident, Jonas had seen her often in town, but mostly when it had been impossible for Bridget to avoid him. The fierceness of their rekindled passion probably scared her—it almost scared him. The feeling was intense, both emotionally and physically. Alone with each other, it could get out of control fast. Paradoxically, the photo shoot at her shop had been one of the times he’d felt closest to her, even though there’d been so many people around.
Maybe she felt more relaxed in the company of others. Their renewed relationship—if he could call it that, it was difficult for him to define—could benefit from a few mutual friends. He wished he had someone to talk to about what was going on, for Bridget’s sake and also for Molly’s. But what with renovating the old farmhouse and following through with his plans to start his own practice, he didn’t have much time to cultivate new friendships.
As if drawn by a magnet, his gaze was pulled back to the chalet. He saw Bridget pausing at the door with a basket of clothes in her hands. She lifted a hand and waved. For a leaping instant, he thought she had seen him and his pulse soared.
But no, not at this distance. She didn’t have any idea that he kept this lonely vigil beneath the maple tree and it was unlikely that she could see him. He searched the rolling landscape for the recipient of that wave and saw a child cantering a bay mare across the pasture through the dairy herd.
He recognized Molly. The girl and the gold band on Bridget’s finger were ever-present reminders of her past life—ten long years that he hadn’t been a part of. In time, there might be something he could do about replacing that wedding ring on her finger. But Molly might not like that at all.
She might very well resent him if things got serious between him and Bridget. Of course, Molly was too bright not to figure out that Jonas was something more than a casual acquaintance of her mother’s, but he had no real way of knowing what the little girl thought of him. He and Bridget seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement to be polite when they met and let it go at that. He didn’t even try to date anyone else and always got himself home by ten. Alone.
At his age, it was ridiculous. But he had to admit that Bridget was worth it. Some day, if he was patient enough, Bridget just might love him again.
If only there was someone he could talk to, someone who knew both of them, who could help him think things through. Loving Bridget was making him desperate.
Jonas went down the sloping hill and back to his house. He entered his kitchen, peering into the vintage refrigerator that wasn’t working well. Not much in it and what there was, was past its shelf date. He slapped together a sandwich out of iffy cold cuts, a spoonful of mustard, and a stale roll. The Lonely Bachelor Blue Plate Special, he thought grimly. Jonas took a few bites and tossed it in the trash. He could get a decent lunch in town and pick up a few things at the hardware store for a project he had in mind. He needed something to do besides brood, and physical labor always made him feel better.
One juicy burger, two cups of coffee, and a slice of pie went a long way to making a man feel better. Jonas left a healthy tip for the waitress and headed out of the diner, whistling.
An older woman going by looked up at the cheerful sound and fixed her gaze on his face.
“Jonas? Is that you? Oh, for heaven’s sake—it’s so nice to see you! It’s me, Bunny Fremont!”
His high school guidance counselor. The one person who’d believed in his potential back in the day. The one person he’d truly been able to talk to after his parents died. White-haired now, Bunny didn’t look all that different otherwise. She was laughing at his puzzlement, dimples flashing in her cheeks. Her sunny personality hadn’t changed, that was for sure. Jonas ran down the steps and gave her a hug.
“Bunny, can I take you out to lunch? I mean, I already ate, but I’d love to talk to you if you have the time.”
“Of course, Jonas. But I had lunch too, about an hour ago, thanks all the same. I just stopped in Randolph to do a little shopping on my way home. How about a cup of coffee and pie at To Go?”
“Fine with me.” A second slice of pie wouldn’t kill him. If Bunny still lived two towns over, he didn’t know when he would see her again. Running into her was a stroke of good luck.
Warmed by the late afternoon sunlight coming in the window of To Go, he and Bunny lingered over their coffee and pie. She took a final bite and pushed her plate away, all her attention on Jonas.
