Jessie laughed again. It was the first thing she had done when she'd moved to San Francisco all those years ago. Her hair had reached nearly to her waist when she'd lived here. Jack always said he liked her with long hair.

"I didn't want anyone to know who I was when I came here in August," she explained. "I'm sorry about the Jennifer Parker thing."

"Well, imagine that. We all assumed you had left for good," she said. "What in the world are you doing here?" she asked bluntly.

"I came to see my mother," she said simply. She pointed at the note in her hands. "What's the message?"

"Oh, here," she said, handing her the note. "She's wants you to call her. That's her number there. You're welcome to use my phone," Mary Ruth offered.

"Thanks, but I've got a phone. I appreciate you coming all the way out here though," Jessie said politely. She waited for Mary Ruth to drive off before calling Annie.

"It's Jessie. Is everything all right?"

"Yes. Nothing's wrong, I just didn't know how else to reach you," Annie explained. "I tried calling Chris, but I can't find her."

"Oh. I didn't think to give you the number to my cell phone."

"Well, we didn't really talk about when we would get together again and tonight is my normal night to have dinner with Chris. I thought, well, you should join us. I'm sure Chris won't mind," Annie said. "I so want the two of you to be friends," she added.

Jessie smiled and nodded, wondering what Annie's reaction would be if she knew just how close they had been this summer.

"I understand. And I don't think she would mind, other than me cutting in on her time with you," Jessie said lightly. "I actually saw her last night at the Rock House. We had a chance to visit."

"Good. So that means you'll come?"

"I'll come, Annie. Thank you."

After the call ended, Jessie stood staring into the trees reflectively. Would Chris mind? She didn't think so. After all, they'd had an enjoyable visit last night. Then Jessie remembered the quiet, fleeting kiss she had given Chris when they parted. The soft sigh that Chris uttered had been nearly enough to make Jessie deepen the kiss, but she had not dared. Instead, she pulled away after the briefest of touches but not before she saw the thinly veiled desire that Chris had tried to hide.

She doubted they would have any time alone tonight. Besides, with Chris there, she and Annie would most likely not get into any heavy discussions, which was just fine with her. After yesterday, her emotions were still a bit raw.

Jessie drove into town, finishing the task she had started before Mary Ruth had come by with the message. Firewood. Chris had said the lodge sold it, and she filled the back of her SUV for a mere thirty dollars.

She stacked it neatly on the back porch but after making the many trips to and from her car with armloads of wood, she was too tired for her afternoon jog. Instead, she stretched out on the sofa, a deep sleep claiming her almost instantly.


Chapter Thirty-two

Jessie tapped her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of a country western song that she'd never heard, but it was the only station she could pick up. She glanced forlornly at the CD player, wishing she had thought to bring a couple, at least. Then she glanced at her phone. She should really call McKenna and warn her that she'd be there. But her eyes flicked back to the road. Surely Chris wouldn't mind.

She knocked on Annie's door a short time later and heard Annie call to her. A feeling of familiarity settled over her as she opened the front door and walked inside.

"I'm in the kitchen," Annie called. "Jessie or Chris?"

Jessie laughed and shook her head. Who would have thought that just a few months ago her life had been so dark?

"It's Jessie," she called.

She glanced around the living room, her eyes traveling to the stairs. Maybe today she would tour the house, see what became of her old room. And Jack's study. It was the only place she was not allowed. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the sound of the front door slamming and her running feet taking the stairs two at a time on her way to her room after school. She also remembered that she never called to Annie in those days, to let her know that she was home, to ask about her day and tell Annie about hers. She opened her eyes to push the memories away and was startled by the voice behind her.

"Jessie?"

She turned around quickly. "Hello, Annie."

"You're welcome to look around, Jessie," she offered gently.

"Oh, I don't know," Jessie said, dismayed that she was blushing.

"Suit yourself," Annie said with a smile and disappeared again into the kitchen.

Jessie stood there, arms wrapped securely around herself, but she couldn't stop her eyes from traveling up the stairs again. Before she knew it, her hand rested on the banister, and her right foot paused on the bottom step. Two of Annie's paintings hung on the wall along the stairway, and she glanced at them briefly before continuing up. At the top, she looked left and down the hall, which led to the master bedroom and the spare room where Jack had slept, then she turned to the right and stared at the door to her old room. The door was closed and her hand settled over the knob tightly. She paused only a second before opening it and she stood there in the doorway, her breath catching. She felt tears gather in her eyes, but she ignored them as she stepped inside. Annie had left it just the way Jessie had that morning she had walked out all those years ago. On the wall, her high school pennant still hung along with a ribbon from a game, announcing Go Bears! Beat the Lions! On the opposite wall, tacked up over her old desk, was a map of the National Forest and Sierra City. She had highlighted all of the different trails that she had hiked and her eyes traveled over them, remembering. Her bookshelf was still neatly stacked with her childhood books, save the few she had crammed into her suitcase when she left.

As she looked around the room, it dawned on her that she had not adorned the walls with posters like most adolescent girls would have. Actually, there was nothing else in the room. No pictures, no personal items. Then she noticed the hardback books propped up in one corner of her bookshelf. Her books. She pulled one out and glanced at her photo on the back, her eyes nearly lifeless in the picture. She wondered what Annie had thought. She put the book back and walked to the bed and gently touched the quilt. In all the years she had lived here, she had never once made up her bed, but every day when she'd returned from school, it was neatly made up again.

"Are you okay?" Annie asked from the doorway.

"Why did you leave all this?" she asked, waving her arms around the room.

"I always hoped you would come back, I guess. After awhile, when I knew you wouldn't, I had plans to clean it out and give your stuff away, but I never could. It's been so many years now..." She shrugged, leaving the thought hanging between them.

Jessie turned around and faced her.

"What about Jack's stuff?" After he had died, Jessie wouldn't allow Annie to disturb his study or his bedroom.

"I gave most of it away, Jessie. I did keep some things that I thought you might like, though. They're in a box in the basement along with a few pictures of the two of you."

"No. I don't think there's anything that I would want," she said quietly.

"Well, it's there if you change your mind. If not, we can get rid of it." Annie turned to leave, but Jessie called her back.

"Annie, why did you hang onto me all these years?"

Annie turned back around and faced her.

"You're my daughter. I gave birth to you, brought you into this world. Jack couldn't take that away from me."

"I'm so sorry," Jessie whispered, letting her tears flow.

"Oh, Jessie. Don't cry, honey. It's not your fault." Annie walked into the room and stood before Jessie and took her hands. She was afraid Jessie would rebuff her offer of comfort but she pulled her into her arms anyway.

Jessie fell into to the hug, but only briefly before pulling away. She wiped at her cheeks and like any good mother, Annie miraculously produced a tissue from her pocket, and they smiled at each other as Jessie dried her eyes and blew her nose.

They walked together into the room that used to be Jack's and Jessie was surprised to discover that Annie had turned it into a library. Every wall was lined with shelves overflowing with books. In the center of the room was a recliner, a floor lamp and a small end table.

"Wow. You've read all of these?" Jessie asked as her eyes traveled over the numerous books, some classics, but most just popular fiction, from mysteries to romance.

"Oh, yes. I love to read. In the winter, especially, I'll sit nearly all day in here or by the fire."

They went back downstairs, and Annie went into the kitchen to check on dinner. "Go ahead and look in the study," she called.

Jessie was about to decline, but she shrugged. It wasn't so bad after all, this tour of her old house. She walked through the living room and down a short hallway. This was where Jack had spent most of his time at home. Occasionally, she would be allowed to join him, sitting on the sofa doing homework while he sat in his big chair and smoked a cigar, the daily paper spread out before him.

She pushed open the door and her eyes widened in surprise. The room had been turned into a studio for Annie. The two outside walls had been replaced with glass that offered spectacular views of the forest and Sierra Peak, now white with snow. Annie had several finished paintings stacked against one wall, but other than that neat stacking, the rest of the room was a mess. Her easel stood empty in the center of the room, a stained drop cloth lying beneath it. On the only table in the room, jars of brushes and containers of paint littered the top. This room was so different from the rest of the house, which was orderly and neat.