Whirlwind by Nancy Martin

Alyssa’s was a fragile kind of femininity counterbalanced by the strength in her expression. Liza was more vibrant, in personality as well as appearance. Her features were like her mother’s, but exaggerated—not quite so delicate. And her voice wasn’t gentle.
    Alyssa’s was as soothing as the soft sound of the morning breeze. On a self-deprecating laugh, she said, “I can’t get used to the way you just appear out of the forest. It’s like magic. How can you move so quietly? A man your size?”
    He didn’t answer, and she thrust her basket into his hands, chatting as if he’d made a clever riposte.
    â€œDon’t tell anyone,” she went on blithely, “but I’m stealing flowers. Do you think someone will arrest me? I’m in charge of arranging centerpieces for the senior citizen dinner tonight, and of course I left it to the last minute! Aren’t I awful?”
    Alyssa Baron wasn’t awful. She was beautiful, and she possessed one of the purest hearts in the world.
    She was also very perceptive.
    Looking up at him, she said suddenly, “What’s wrong, Cliff?”
    â€œNothing.”
    Alyssa smiled with understanding. “Not sleeping again?”
    He shook his head. “It’s not that. I just...it’s been a long day.”
    She laughed. “My dear, it’s not even noon yet! What’s going on?”
    He couldn’t tell her about Liza’s arrival in Tyler, Cliff realized. That was Liza’s business, not his. He knew how Alyssa was going to react to that news, and he didn’t want to be around to watch. Alyssa might cry. She wore her emotions quite close to the surface when it came to her children—Liza especially. How many times had she expressed her feelings about her wayward youngest daughter? Cliff didn’t think that he could stand breaking the news of Liza’s return and watching Alyssa’s eyes fill with pain as she soaked in the information.
    So he said, “I’m not used to being around people.”
    â€œAh,” Alyssa said wisely. “Did you go into town this morning?”
    â€œJust for a minute.”
    â€œThat always upsets you,” she said, shaking her head. “I wish it didn’t. People don’t hate you. They don’t know you, that’s all. You make them nervous, I suppose. You don’t know how to chat.”
    Cliff laughed shortly. “No, chatting isn’t my strong suit.”
    â€œIt’s all right,” Alyssa replied, bending into the flowers again and snipping stems with her shears. “I know you’re perfectly nice. Someday everyone else will figure that out, too.”
    As Alyssa cut more flowers for her centerpieces, Cliff held her basket and considered her words. He didn’t disagree. Not aloud, anyway. But Cliff knew in his heart that he wasn’t perfectly nice. He could be perfectly awful—that was the problem. And if he wasn’t careful, somebody could get hurt by his awfulness.
    He hated the thought of hurting anyone. Perhaps that was why he’d come to live at Timberlake in the first place. To be alone. To stay away from people in case he went truly crazy.
    That was his biggest fear, he supposed. Going really nuts. It could happen, he knew. He’d read about other guys who’d come home from Southeast Asia and lived normal lives for a few years before snapping out completely. Posttraumatic stress disorder, it was called. Funny how something so terrible could be made to sound easy to cure.
    Staying at the lodge was safe, though. Cliff saw Alyssa Baron once every couple of weeks—that was it. Oh, a clerk at the grocery store or at Murphy’s Hardware might say a word or two when he made his monthly foray into town, but he forged no real connections. Cliff preferred life that way.
    Now Liza had steamrolled into the lodge and it scared the hell out of him. Cliff realized he was trembling again as he