“Of course you did,” she deadpans.
I bite back a laugh, enjoying the show. “Don’t blame him. I’m sure Troy’s responsible for him being here.”
Kellan grunts again, which I take to be an affirmative.
We leave the building and walk toward the grocery store. The sidewalk and streets are busy with people checking out the shops or searching for a place to park. It’s early afternoon. Prime tourist time.
“Kellan, Emily!” an older woman’s voice calls out behind us. The pair stop and turn next to a giant concrete planter on the sidewalk. It’s filled with a collection of fuchsia, purple, and white flowers that still look great even though we’re in the final days of August.
I also turn and instruct Bailey to sit.
A woman shuffles in our direction, appearing a little out of breath. She’s wearing a bright Hawaiian-print sundress that hugs her generous curves. Wisps of white hair have fallen loose from her low bun.
“Hi, Mrs. Davies,” Emily says, smiling as if she’s talking to a favorite grandmother.
Kellan nods at the woman. His expression holds a softness most people normally don’t see on him and an almost-there smile.
“How are my two prize students doing?” Without waiting for them to reply, she breaks into a story about her granddaughter’s trip to the Portland Zoo. “Suzi was so excited to see the elephants, it was impossible to pry her away from the exhibit.” Mrs. Davies barely pauses to take a breath the entire time.
“Excuse me.” A faded accent—Aussie, maybe?—loops around the vowels of a male voice.
At hearing it, the flash of a memory assaults me from the night everything changed for me. Of an argument. My husband saying something about an insurance policy. An accent. British? Australian? Something close to them? I have no idea what the memory means—and it’s gone as quickly as it came.
I turn my head and find a man standing slightly behind me in jeans, sneakers, and a plain hunter green T-shirt. A dark five o’clock shadow covers his jaw, enhancing his rugged good looks. His kind eyes don’t hurt either. Something about him seems familiar. Like he’s one of those male models on the cover of a romance novel or an underwear ad. He probably isn’t. He just has that appearance to him.
“Yes?” I ask, turning fully to him. Behind me, Mrs. Davies is still chatting about her trip to the zoo with her granddaughter.
“Have you seen a little girl in the past few minutes? She’s eight years old with two blond braids and is with her mother. I stepped into that store for a moment.” He points at the clothing store that caters to outdoor adventurers and tourists. “They were gone when I got out. Which probably means they went into one of the other stores.”
“I haven’t. Sorry.” I glance down the sidewalk in case I can spot her—never mind that his height puts him at a greater advantage to see them. He must be at least six feet.
“Thanks. Guess I’ll just have to check inside all the shops.” Amusement crinkles the corners of his laughing brown eyes. “Just thought I could save time.” He turns to leave. “Oh, there they are. Thank you!” He strides off after a young girl with braids and a woman in a sundress. They’re heading in the opposite direction to us.
“And that’s why I will always be a big fan of support dogs,” Mrs. Davies says, and I swivel to her. Seems like we have something in common.
“This is Kellan’s and my friend, Jessica,” Emily tells her. “And her dog, Bailey.”
Mrs. Davies’s eyes widen, but her surprised expression doesn’t morph into the one I dread every time I see a protester outside my house. There’s no condemnation—just an open curiosity. Not the sort of curiosity you have for a caged animal in the zoo, with a small amount of fear for the damage its fangs could do if sunk into flesh. It’s a gentle curiosity fueled by understanding and hope.
It’s an expression I wish I witnessed on more people when they see me and realize who I am.
“Don’t believe the lies you hear about her.” Kellan’s tone is respectfully fierce, and more than ever, I’m glad to have him on my side. I would hug him, but he’s not the kind of man who’s into being hugged.
She flashes him a soft smile full of affection. “You would know about that more than anyone.” The smile she directs at me is friendly and bright. The kind of smile given to a stranger you hope to befriend. “It’s nice to meet you, Jessica. I hope all the fuss about you dies away soon so you can finally find peace.”
“Thank you.”Thank you for not treating me like a leper.“I’m hoping that too.”
“Oh, there’s Edward. I’m sure I’ll see you three again soon. Bye!” She waves at the white car pulling up to the sidewalk and shuffles toward it.
Kellan goes with her and helps her into the car.
“She was Kellan’s and my fifth-grade teacher,” Emily says. “She taught at the elementary school for forty years.” Em chuckles. “She had been there so long, I was beginning to think she’d one day be my kids’ teacher.” Her low laugh turns into a hard breath. “But alas, I’m still single and childless and she’s retired.” She winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t whine about that.”
“What happened to me isn’t your fault, Em. You have the right to be disappointed or happy or whatever. Don’t let my past make you feel bad about that.” I feel bad enough about it for everyone.
“Hey, Em. Jess.” Katelyn approaches us, all smiles, and my stomach drops like a boulder thrown off a cliff. There’s something a little too bright and cheery about her expression. “I just saw Theresa’s wedding photos. They look great. The photos of her flower girl were super adorable.”
Her compliment takes me by surprise, but my stomach stays where it landed. “Thank you.”
