She Can Tell by Melinda Leigh Page B

that. He’d misunderstand, and she didn’t have the energy to fight with him. “I need your help. It’s for Sarah and the girls, or I wouldn’t ask.”
    “Yeah. God forbid you actually need anything from me.”
    “Blake, please. Don’t go there.”
    “You just don’t get it.” He sighed. “I know you can’t believe it, but I’ll always be here for you. You can trust me.”
    “My leaving had nothing to do with trust.” And everything to do with things she wasn’t capable of feeling. She’d loved him in her own way, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t match the intense emotions he had felt for her. Marrying Blake would have set them up to repeat the disaster that was her parents’ marriage.
    The line went silent for a few long seconds. “Just tell me what you want.”
    They made the arrangements with a few brisk and businesslike exchanges that fed the ache in Rachel’s heart. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the counter. Alex and Emma were more important than any of her dreams. She’d do whatever was necessary.
    Rachel turned to the sink with the empty soup can. She lifted the handle on the faucet. Nothing came out. What now? She checked the valve under the sink. No problem there. She ducked into the den. Sarah’s head lolled back on the sofa. Her eyes were closed.
    Rachel grabbed a flashlight. Maybe it was a blown fuse or something else with a simple fix.
Yeah, right
. When was it ever something simple? After locking the door securely behind her, she headed across the weedy yard to the far corner, where the well house hid behind the detached garage.
    A cold twinge curled in the pit of her belly. She wasn’t alone. Goose bumps broke out on her arms. Stopping in the middle of the lawn, she rubbed her biceps. She scanned the buildings and trees ahead. Everything looked the same. A pair of blue jays burst from the underbrush at the edge of the trees a dozen yards away. Rachel started, and then forced herself to breathe. Birds. Just birds.
    She was losing it. Big time.
    She swallowed her paranoia and resumed her stride. Clearly, her imagination had paid attention to Mike’s warnings. Memories rushed at her, video clips of various arguments she’d had over the past year all spliced together, a montage of her disagreeable nature. There were quite a few. Blake’s were the longest—and the most bitter. Someday, she’d learn to think first and open her mouth second. Hanging around with the unflappable He-Man could be good for her. She paused midstride. Where did that thought come from?
    The building was small, roughly measuring eight by ten feet. Though built of solid Pennsylvania fieldstone to match the main house, the outbuildings hadn’t been maintained as well over the centuries. Mortar crumbled and ivy climbed the patchwork of brown and gray rocks.
    The weather-beaten door moved in the breeze with a squeak of old hinges. The padlock she’d installed lay in the grass next to the stoop.
Oh no
. Not the well. Panic swept her hesitation out of the way.
    Rachel pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her gaze fell on the debris strewn across the dirt floor. She gasped. Before she could move, a shove between her shoulder blades sent her flying forward. Her hands instinctively shot out in front of her to brace her fall. Pain sang up her forearms as her palms hit the dirt floor. Something slammed behind her, and everything went dark.

    Mike bounced along the gravel lane that led to Lost Lake and approached the turnoff for the controversial vacation home development project. Thanks to last week’s rock blasting, the construction entrance was flanked by diehard picketers, even on a dreary Sunday. The protestors were too spread out to capture with his dashboard camera. He grabbed his cell phone camera from the passenger seat and switched the camera function to video. Slowing the truck to a crawl, he steered around a bearded guy toting a hand-lettered sign and navigated the muddy ruts left by heavy