Whenever You Come Around by Robin Lee Hatcher Page A

Wouldn’t be old enough to go on the trail with me, and training takes time.” He glanced at his right leg. “Not that that matters now. I won’t be guiding anybody into the backcountry anytime too soon.”
    Perhaps sensing she was responsible for the change in Buck’s tone of voice, Cocoa placed her muzzle next to his thigh and looked up at him. Buck laughed softly, a pleasant sound.
    Was he as nice as others thought him? Charity wondered. Or was he more like some of his friends? Or one friend in particular?
    Don’t. Don’t. Don’t .
    The back screen door slammed shut, and a young boy of about nine or ten darted into the kitchen. When he saw Charity, he screeched to a halt.
    “Who’re you?” he demanded Sara had laid her head back in her chair, resting, but at that, she cracked open an eye. “Jake!” Her tone brooked no argument. “Mind your manners.”
    “Sorry.”
    But Charity wasn’t really listening. As soon as Jake had hit the door, she’d frozen, her heart seizing before stuttering into a painful rhythm as she stared at the boy before her. He was young. About . . .
    Ten. He looks like he’s ten. The same as—
    No . She would not do this. Ignoring Jake’s quizzical look, she turned away. Her hands shook and she wiped them on her thighs. She would finish what she’d come for and leave. She would keep her emotions hidden.
    Buck had said he would eat whatever was easy. That’s exactly what she would give him. Two scrambled eggs, apiece of buttered toast, and a glass of orange juice. She could prepare that in a matter of minutes.
    The back screen door creaked open a second time. When Charity looked to her right, she saw two girls—Sara and Ken’s daughters, obviously. Girls in the process of becoming young women. They mumbled a hello before moving on to the living room. Then their father stepped into view.
    “Morning, Charity.” Ken glanced at the stovetop. “I should have let you know I could fix breakfast for Buck this morning. Sorry I didn’t think to send one of the kids over to tell you.”
    Children’s laughter drifted in from the other room, and Charity felt another painful stab in her chest. “It’s all right,” she said, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat. “You were busy. Just let me finish cooking, and I’ll be out of here.”
    “You don’t have to rush.”
    “Actually, I do. I have work waiting for me at home.”
    Work . . . and a need to escape the warm family scene going on in the other room.
    W HEN THE DOOR CLOSED BEHIND C HARITY AND HER dog a short while later, Buck looked at Sara. “Did she seem upset to you?”
    “It’s hard to say.” Sara gave a small shrug. “A lot of years have passed since I hung out with Charity, and that was only because she was Terri’s little sister. She kept to herself most of the time. In college and after, I heard she became quite a party girl. That was difficult for me to believe, but I guess it was true.” A frown furrowed her brow. “Now she’s asuccessful author. She seems to have pulled her life together. At least in the obvious ways. But she really turned her back on Kings Meadow and all the people who knew her when. Terri worries about her. I know that for certain. So do her folks, although they’ve never said so to me.”
    It was more information than Buck had expected to get from Sara, and he found himself intrigued by it. The day of the accident, while he was with Charity in the parking lot, he’d thought she disliked him or at least wanted him to leave her alone. But maybe it was something bigger than that. Something not about him in particular but about Kings Meadow in general.
    Ken stepped into view. “Charity put your breakfast on the table. Want me to bring it to you?”
    “No thanks, bro. I’ll eat in the kitchen.” Buck pushed on the arm of the sofa with his left hand until he was upright enough to move his knee to the scooter. “Man, this is a pain,” he muttered to himself.
    Sara heard him and