12
Tara quickened her steps as a low growl warned of coming rain—a sudden tempest on a Monday afternoon. She peered up at the fast-moving clouds. If she had accepted Annie’s loan of her bike today, as she sometimes had, she could have made a mad dash to Carla’s. But she had wanted the time to think, so she’d set off on the two-mile trek to the shelter, and that with no umbrella.
When she left Grey Gables, the sun had been smiling in a benign blue sky. She’d slept well in spite of worrying about Jem’s impromptu visit to Grey Gables last week. It was unnerving when he popped up unannounced like that. Things had been going so well. That day she had finished helping Annie prepare cross-stitch canvases for the Hook and Needle Club to frame. They had listened to comforting music and talked while they worked. She had never had many friends—certainly none like Annie.
Tara smiled, remembering how good it felt to be there—helping to restore the beautiful handwork of a real artist. Together they had washed the soiled pieces, pressed and stretched them, and then, when they were dry, carefully wrapped them in acid-free tissue paper. It was a work of love for Annie, she thought, remembering how tenderly Annie’s fingers had traced the lovely designs and the precise stitches. They had been worked with love too. What was love like that? Tara couldn’t understand it. She’d felt a bit like an outsider watching Annie, but Annie had quickly drawn her in, trusting her with the remarkable cross-stitch canvases.
As she quickened her steps, Tara marveled that she had been accepted into Annie’s circle of friends. She was even learning how to knit, thanks to Mary Beth, who had decided that knitting suited Tara’s personality better than crocheting. But they know nothing about my “personality,” she thought as the first scant drops of rain fell on her face. They didn’t know that the person who had shown up on Annie’s doorstep was actually an interloper, and that she was part of a scheme that would violate all the trust that Annie had placed in her.
When Jem had appeared at Grey Gables with Wally, Tara thought she would faint right there on the spot. What did he think he was doing just walking in like that? He’d told her he would stay out of sight, that he’d pretend they didn’t know each other. Then he just popped in without warning—drank coffee in the kitchen and sweet-talked Annie like he’d known her all his life. Jem could be so exasperating. Had she covered up her initial shock upon seeing him? Did Annie suspect anything?
Suddenly, as she neared the stretch of woodland on the outskirts of Carla’s place, she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled around and felt Jem grab her wrist. He pulled her off the path and into a stand of trees.
“Caught you!” he said, laughing, and tried to pull her into his arms. His skin was hot from running and damp with sweat and rain. She detected the sweet-sour smell of beer on his breath—in the middle of the day. Oh, Jem.
She pushed away from him. “What are you doing!” she demanded, anger rising in her. “You can’t just keep popping up and scaring me out of my wits like this.”
“Come on, baby. I missed you,” he said, backing her against the rough bark of a tree. His voice was husky but insistent, dark eyes lit with humor. “Haven’t you missed me?”
“No. How can I miss you when you keep jumping out at me?” Her heart thumped like a wild thing in her chest, but she leveled her gaze at him. “Showing up at Grey Gables like that wasn’t smart either.”
His eyes narrowed, and she knew she’d touched a sore point. Jem didn’t like being told what was smart and what wasn’t. Sometimes he just didn’t think! He took a step back but kept his hands pressed against the tree trunk on either side of her, effectively pinning her there. “I told you I’d be watching.” He paused, and considered her as though trying to be patient with a stubborn child. “Besides, what could be more natural than getting to know my brother’s friends? It’s a bonus to learn Wally’s such a regular around there.”
“And how did you get here?” She looked anxiously around for the sleek rental car he’d been showing up in. What had he done with the old conversion van?
“Takes money to rent a car—and my cards are maxed.” He glared at her to make his meaning clear. It was her fault; she was moving too slow.
“But we can’t be seen together. You said—”
“I said I’d be nearby, and I’d be watching.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Your rich friend doesn’t suspect a thing.”
She recalled the day he’d nearly been caught snooping around Grey Gables. Boots had been blamed for the downed flowerpot. It was a really stupid move. Sometimes, Jem just didn’t use his head.