bird-watching and being near the water, heâd asked her to hike the waterfall trail in the Columbia River Gorge. On a gorgeous summer day in July, they had walked the circular trail through the green woods, stopping at five waterfalls scattered along the loop.
Thrilled to her toes, sheâd stood hand in hand with him on a bluff over a shimmering waterfall as theyâd watched a pair of bald eagles wheeling and dipping over the shining water.
Afterward, they ate on an outdoor deck at an inn overlooking the river. Sun glinted off the choppy waves, and the breeze tousled her curls. Con reached out and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, and the high-voltage connection that arced between them shook them both. Breathless, she turned her head and watched the dozens of windsurfers on the river. Their sailboards danced across the waves like bright butterflies.
Con asked if she wanted to windsurf. She declined. But she couldnât hold out against his enthusiasm, and five minutes later, found herself in the innâs gift shop renting a wetsuit. Con had been windsurfing the day before and still had his board and wetsuit in the back of his truck. They spent a sparkling afternoon on the river. Conâs warm, solid body behind her, his protective stance around her as he steadied her on the board felt so right. Like she belonged in his arms.
A patient tutor, he good-naturedly hauled them both out of the water when she repeatedly overbalanced and upended them. She laughed more that day than she had in a lifetime.
When they returned her wetsuit, they bought ice cream stacked inside waffle cones. Peppermint for her, huckleberry for him. Con noticed her admiring glance snag on a tiny silver hummingbird charm in the gift shop, and insisted on buying it for her. They drove home engrossed in conversation.
At her door, sheâd longed for him to kiss her. Instead, heâd tugged a lock of her hair and flashed his mischievous grin. The sexy copâs killer grin should be a felony. It sure assassinated all her inhibitions. Heâd extracted a promise from her to have dinner with him that weekend, then sauntered to his truck.
Intoxicated by happiness, sheâd waltzed into her apartment with a sun-kissed complexion and soaring spirits. Her sense of wonder and rightness had confirmed their initial whammo attraction. The connection wasnât merely chemistry.
It was destiny.
An hour after Con left, her mom had dropped by and delivered a stern lecture about skin cancer from sun exposure and the dangers of windsurfing, along with a dire warning about risk-taking men. Bailey had let her mother voice her worries, while silently holding her own joy close to her heart.
Outside, the wind howled, rocking the car in its frigid teeth, as if trying to tear away her warm memories. Her mom used to be different. Her parents had started out happy. Bailey remembered sunny, laughter-filled family outings. Affectionate glances between her mom and dad. Loving embraces. As time had passed though, the silences lengthened and grew cold. Angry words screamed in the darkness as she huddled, scared and shaking, in her bed.
Sheâd been too young to understand what the fights were about, or why her mom wanted her dad to quit his job. How could he? When his job was such an important part of him. A firefighter. A brave knight in Nomex armor who battled fire-breathing dragons and rescued the innocent. A hero.
When Bailey was fourteen, heâd died being a hero.
Her mom had frozen into a glacier. Sheâd grown overprotective, smothering her daughter. Bailey hadnât had the heart to fight her after the trauma theyâd suffered. In self-defense, sheâd retreated more deeply into her beloved books, becoming subdued and withdrawn.
The wind howled louder. A pinecone slammed into the windshield, and Bailey crashed back to the present. Nothing lasted forever. Carefree summer days were over. Summer was dead and winterâs