The Secret Between Them. Cathryn Parry

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СКАЧАТЬ him, for the first time in a long time. He needed this competency. Needed to be good at something again.

      “That’s great,” he said softly. And oh, man, what he would do with the place. First thing, he’d track down some other wounded soldiers he knew. Some of them must have dispersed into Maine and New Hampshire. Maybe they could set up a wounded warrior hockey league. A similar program had been the main thing that had gotten him through the two years of rehab in Maryland after he’d been flown back from Germany—

      “Kyle,” Natalie said, interrupting his thoughts. “Jessica Hughes is invited to the will reading as well. Do you know her?”

      Kyle couldn’t speak. Slowly he sank back into his chair.

      “She didn’t go to high school with us,” Natalie said. “She was home-schooled while she trained in figure skating at Joe’s rink. Jessa Hughes, she was known as then.”

      Kyle wiped his hand over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Jessa is back in town?” he asked, as steadily as he could.

      “Yes, but she goes by Jessica now.”

      Didn’t matter what she called herself, she would always be the famous Jessa that everybody loved. The sweetheart of Wallis Point.

      The great ache of his teenage years.

      Kyle exhaled and stared at the ceiling. The last time he’d seen her, he’d inadvertently hurt her. Physically, but not emotionally—on the contrary, she’d had no problem breaking off all contact with him. And Joe’s decision to bar Kyle from the rink had been based on that one stupid mistake that he’d always regretted.

      In retrospect, Jessa—Jessica—was also a big part of the reason he’d left Wallis Point after high school to impulsively join the Marines.

      “Joe left her something, too?” Kyle asked. If Joe had, it would’ve been to rub it in Kyle’s face. That was the only reason he could think of.

      “She’s...my next call,” Natalie said. “Jessica works as a physical therapist at a clinic in town. Joe mentioned that she helped him after he went through knee surgery last year and needed rehabilitation.”

      Kyle caught himself shaking his head. There was so much irony in that job choice, both for her and for him.

      Don’t dwell on her. She has no use for you. Never really has.

      “So, I’ll see you Saturday, then?” Natalie asked.

      In practical matters, Kyle didn’t care what money or other physical property Joe had willed to Jessica. She could have everything else Joe owned and be welcome to it. All that Kyle cared about was getting his rink...and avoiding speaking to her at all.

      He stared at his foot again. Physical therapist, huh? No way would he be telling Jessa—Jessica—about his physical problems.

      “I’ll be there,” he said.

      * * *

      THREE DAYS LATER, Kyle was back in New Hampshire. Friday night, in the dark and cold.

      He was glad he’d practiced walking with his prosthetic leg so many times in the rehab center that it had become second nature to him. Because in mid-February, the sidewalk in Wallis Point was mounded on either side with snow and ice. The wind from the crashing ocean at high tide body slammed him and threatened to knock him off kilter.

      He’d forgotten his gloves, so he kept his fists balled inside his coat pockets. Hunched his shoulders in the thick navy wool coat.

      His boot slipped, and for a moment fear gripped him, but he stayed upright. Trained his gaze on the dark sidewalk, gritty from rock salt and sprinkled dirt.

      He was a tough New Englander born and bred. He could handle a bit of snow.

      With renewed determination, he headed back toward the one establishment open on the boardwalk. The Grand Beachfront Hotel, where he’d just finished checking in.

      Kyle had always liked the place. Had even worked a second job washing dishes at the hotel one summer, when he’d been sixteen and saving money for hockey camp.

      The turn-of-the-century hotel had been so busy and popular that an army of teen workers had been employed as valet-parking attendants, bellboys and lobby help. That was during the high season from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Now, in February, the arcades on the boardwalk were closed, the fried dough stands shuttered. In the dead of winter it was usually a ghost town.

      Not tonight, though. The hotel lobby had even been fairly busy. Kyle had left his truck idling out front while he’d checked in with his single suitcase. But when he’d gone back outside to park his truck, he’d discovered that the hotel parking lot was full and valet parking closed for the season. He’d been forced to squeeze his truck into a spot on the street about six blocks away.

      Maybe Wallis Point had become more popular since he left. As he approached the rear of the hotel beside the attached restaurant, he heard noise inside from a large crowd of patrons.

      He flinched, but he didn’t know where else to go. He’d kept in touch with no one here. He’d blown out of town on a hot summer night, the week after high school graduation, and no one had come after him.

      Other than Joe, Kyle had no living relatives. Nobody he knew of, anyway. Kyle’s friends...old platoon mates...they were scattered over the country. He just wasn’t big on staying in contact with people.

      After he left the Marines Kyle hadn’t known what he was going to do, just that desk work wasn’t for him. He’d kill to be manager of a hockey rink, especially this one. Now, if he didn’t screw it up, he had his chance.

      Trudging along, slow and careful, he made it to the hotel entrance, opened the door to the lobby and went inside. The plan was to order takeout food from the restaurant and then hide out in his room for a quiet dinner. He needed to mentally prepare for the funeral tomorrow. Get his head together. Figure out how he was going to handle public perceptions of his below-the-knee left leg amputation.

      It still made Kyle sick to think about it. In the military world, with other wounded warriors, it was one thing. In the civilian world...frankly, the thought of their reactions terrified him.

      Kyle had never even told Joe what had happened to him.

      Swallowing, Kyle followed the familiar path past the concierge desk and down the hallway toward the restaurant. But within a hundred feet, he knew that the situation was worse than he’d realized.

      The place was packed. As in waiting-for-tables packed. The crowd was so thick in front of the bar that people could barely pass through to the hostess table.

      Kyle stood in the middle of it, overwhelmed. A harried waiter pushed past him, moving Kyle ever so slightly off balance. Kyle caught himself and widened his stance.

      Another guy brushed past carrying one of those black plastic squares that flashed red lights and sent off an alarm when the table was ready.

      Kyle moved carefully to a pillar and backed against it. This place was nuts.

      And then he noticed, really noticed his surroundings... Red heart-shaped balloons at the hostess station. Pink bunting edging the doorway leading СКАЧАТЬ