What Once Was Perfect Read online

  What Once Was Perfect

  The Wardham Series

  Book No. 1

  By

  ZOE YORK

  DEDICATION

  from the past, for the future

  In memory of my Mom, one of the original self-publishers, who taught me that I can do anything

  For my sons, who are daily reminders of the primacy of love, and in memory of Lynda, who helped raise them

  Chapter One

  Laney slid her laptop into her leather messenger bag and flicked off the office light. She paused at her secretary’s desk to steal a peppermint chocolate square and drop off a light blue jewelry box wrapped in a white ribbon.

  The tap and scratch of pen on paper sounded from across the hall and she hesitated. She could sneak out, but she wanted this resolved before the holidays. The affair with Rick had been a mistake from the beginning, they were on the same page about that, but how do you move back to just being friends and colleagues?

  The door pushed open as she knocked, and Rick looked up from his desk. “You’re off, then?”

  “Yep. I just wanted to say...Merry Christmas.”

  “You sure I can’t convince you to come to the lake house with me?”

  She shook her head with a rueful smile. “Let’s not do this again, Rick. I’m not the girl you should take home to meet your mom.”

  “I know. Woulda been convenient if you were.” He returned her bittersweet expression and gestured for her to take a seat. “Don’t you ever want more, though?”

  “I...I used to.” She sagged into one of the two chairs across from him and scrubbed her face with her hands. Once upon a time, she’d wanted it all. “If I was capable of falling in love, you’d be the perfect guy.”

  “Shame that’s not how it actually works.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, although it wasn’t like she was an expert on healthy relationships. Quite the opposite. Laney had banned emotional entanglements from her life a long time ago. Never again would she be vulnerable and give her heart to someone. It wasn’t worth the pain.

  She barely did physical relationships, only agreeing to enter into a sexual arrangement if the interested party understood he would need to get tested and be monogamous for the duration. Condoms and birth control were mandatory. Most men cooled off in a hurry when they heard those terms. Rick had chuckled and scheduled a follow up discussion for a week later, when he presented her with a clean bill of health.

  They joined DermaNorth at the same time a year earlier, both fresh out of plastic surgery residency programs, and she had seen him date two other women in the intervening months. Both relationships had been casual, brief and ended amicably, exactly what she liked. So they negotiated terms: Laney wanted an escort to fundraising events and didn’t like overnight guests; Rick didn’t want to leave in the middle of the night, but promised not to linger in the morning or expect breakfast.

  “I’m sorry that I changed the rules on you.”

  Seriously, what kind of guy apologizes after a woman breaks up with him? Laney hated herself a little bit for not being open to exploring something more with Rick. But while their time together had been nice, that’s all it had been. Physical compatibility and pleasant conversation. “What happened? Is it the holidays? More pressure from your parents?”

  “Honestly? I think it was my birthday. Another year older, and what do I have to show for it?”

  Laney cocked her eyebrow in disbelief. “Your career?”

  “There’s gotta be more to life than this, Laney.” His lips quirked, then he cleared his throat. “Well, for us mere mortals, anyway.”

  “Hey! I have a life outside work.” She paused, then dipped her head, acknowledging the point. “Okay, I don’t, but—”

  He interrupted her with a chuckle and she feigned a glower before continuing. “I get it, I really do. You want someone to come home to at the end of the day, even if it’s in the middle of the night and all they do is rub your back for a minute after you stumble to bed. Someone who knows that when you scratch your nose at family dinners, it means you need to be rescued. Someone who can read your moods and bring you wine or chocolate or run you a bath without being asked. You’re ready for sweatpants and watching TV on the couch, and loving every minute of it.”

  He stared at her, and she realized her voice had drifted to a whisper. “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  “Laney Calhoun, you’ve been in love before.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Tell me about him.” He leaned forward, propped his elbows on the desk, and steepled his fingers. The wicked gleam in his eyes was annoying, but at least she didn’t need to worry about leaving a broken heart behind over the holidays.

  “Never going to happen.” She pushed herself to a stand. “It’s late, I have to go.”

  “Hey.” Rick raised his hands, as if stop her, then dropped them to his desk. “Have a safe trip.”

  Laney inched her car forward. She’d made it to Detroit without hitting much traffic, but there was always a bit of a line at the border. Bright lights flooded the concrete area around the toll booths, obscuring the rise of the Ambassador Bridge against the early dawn sky. She counted the coins she needed again, knowing she had the right amount but indulging her obsessive nature because no one was there to make fun of her. As the truck in front eased past the toll booth onto the bridge, she rolled down her window. This routine was familiar, if not comfortable. Heading home always stirred up conflicting emotions. On the other side of the bridge lay the university. She could already feel the pang of regret that would lance through her gut as she drove past, an unavoidable reaction to a place so tied up in her memories of Kyle. The library. Their favourite Italian restaurant just off-campus. A few blocks further, and she’d pass his first apartment. It would have been her first home away from the farm if things had worked out differently.

  She’d only seen him once in the last decade, at her father’s funeral two years earlier. A decade had hardened her heart enough that she was able to shake his hand and ignore the liquid warmth that slithered up her arm. Able to hear his words of condolences and pretend they wouldn’t ring in her ears for hours after. He stood in front of her in the church basement for a few extra moments, the line of community members paused behind him, and for a moment she thought he would say something else, but then he shook his head and moved on to give her mother a quick hug and repeat the same generic platitudes. By the time the receiving line had dwindled, he was gone. It was for the best, she had reminded herself at the time. No point in picking at old wounds. She’d learned her lesson twelve years ago, the last summer she spent in Wardham, the first summer she’d allowed herself to have a fling. The only summer she’d spent in love.

  The delay wasn’t significant on the other side of the bridge. Within minutes, she had pulled up to the Canadian border crossing and was handing over her identification to the guard in the booth.

  “Where are you from?”

  “I’m a Canadian citizen living and working in Chicago.”

  “Do you have any alcohol or tobacco in the car?”

  “One bottle of champagne.”

  “Anything else to declare?”

  “No.”

  “Welcome home.” The border guard passed back her passport and waved her on.

  For better or worse, Laney thought.

  Traffic thinned and the first rays of a winter sun appeared on the horizon. In her rearview mirror, Windsor and the United States behind it were still dark with night. On either side of the highway, drifts of snow spotted the fields. Lights flicked on in barns and farmhouses, and Laney kept her eyes peeled for suicidal deer as she passed the occasional stand of trees. Fifteen minutes down the highway, she took t
he bypass to the exit for Wardham, and despite her previous reservations, she smiled. Essex County would forever be home in her heart.

  Three side roads zipped past before the home stretch. She knew this road well. The next farm belonged to the Frids, the one after that to the De Limas. The old school house on the corner had been an artist’s retreat the last time she was home, but the sign was gone now. If she kept driving straight, she’d soon be in town, all six streets of it, then catch a first glimpse of Lake Erie. She used to love the town beach, calm water stretching out as far as the eye could see. As she did every time she visited, however, she turned left on Concession Road 2. She only came home to visit her family, and probably would stay at the farm until she left again for Chicago.

  There, on top of a slight rise, was Evening Lane Farm. Her parents had liked to tell people that they’d named it after their daughters, but Laney and Evie knew it was the other way around. They didn’t mind. The farm was beautiful, the long lane lined with oak trees leading to a gabled yellow brick house, the pastures to the east and west neatly squared off with white fence. A wide lawn stretched between the house and the two barns farther back, and the gravel drive continued past it, disappearing behind the larger barn, all the way to the bush. Her dad had loved taking them out on the wagon to choose a Christmas tree. Last year they’d picked one up at the grocery store in town. Last year, she’d only come home for two days.

  The kitchen light was on already when she pulled her car to a stop beside the house. She grabbed her empty Starbucks travel mug and stepped into the frosty air.

  “Delaney Calhoun, you must have driven all night!”

  “Hey, Mom.” She jogged to the open door and swept her mother into a big bear hug. “Look at you, you’re practically disappearing on me.”

  Claire Calhoun blushed and patted her trim hips. “Evie has me doing Pilates five mornings a week. You’re lucky today is a rest day.”

  “You look great.” Laney hung her coat on her hook behind the kitchen door, labeled with crayon lettering her eight-year-old self had pressed into the wood, claiming that spot forever. “Coffee on?”

  “Of course. Your sister and the boys will be down any minute. I thought I’d make eggs and bacon for breakfast, but Evie has a new protein pancake recipe she wants to try out instead.”

  Laney made a face. At least the coffee would be good.

  “How’s she doing, anyway?”

  “Better than I am.”

  “I’d hope so. Her husband was a douchebag, Mom, and he didn’t die. Big difference.”

  “I know, but there’s still grief in divorce.”

  “They tell you that in group therapy?”

  “How’d you know?” Claire smiled brightly. “I think they were also supposed to tell you that at medical school, smarty-pants.”

  Laney opened her mouth to point out that med school was actually quite a long time ago, and counseling wasn’t a significant part of the curriculum anyway, but she was interrupted by what sounded like a stampede of elephants coming down the stairs.

  “SLOW DOWN. Seriously, Connor, you’re going to kill your brother. Max, don’t push him.”

  As if they hadn’t heard their mother, two very excited little boys slid into the kitchen on sock feet and bounced into the new arrival.

  “Aunt Laney, Aunt Laney, you’re here!”

  “Did you bring us presents?”

  “We’re going to get a tree today!”

  “Do you want to see a magic trick?”

  “You can sleep in our room if you want.”

  “We’ve been really good, don’t listen to mom.”

  Laney collapsed into a pile of excited chatter with two of her most favourite people and beamed up at her older sister. “Hey! So we’re getting a tree today?”

  Connor poked her in the shoulder. “Don’t forget about the presents.”

  Evie hauled him off the floor with a gentle reminder that eight-year-old boys should mind their manners and set good examples for their little brothers by offering to help make breakfast before they start asking about presents.

  “Would you like some cardboard pancakes, Aunt Laney?”

  “Why yes, Connor, I would, thank you. I love cardboard.” She winked at Evie. “No cheat days over the holidays, sis?”

  “Maybe for Christmas morning. But you’re here for ten days. If we ate crap that long, we wouldn’t have any energy to tromp through the bush, or have snowball fights, would we guys?”

  Max pulled on Laney’s hand. She bent down and he whispered in her ear, “I don’t mind the pancakes. Grandma lets us have as much maple syrup as we want.”

  “Good to know,” she whispered back.

  Max was right. With enough syrup, the pancakes made from egg whites, oats and cottage cheese didn’t taste bad at all.

  After breakfast, Laney cleared the table and ran the dishwasher. As she wiped down the counter, Evie came into the kitchen dressed in yoga pants and a long sleeve t-shirt with a puffy down vest over top. Her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail. They shared the same blue eyes and fair colouring, but Laney didn’t see the faint lines on her older sister that she could feel on her own face. It might be time for Botox. “Where are you off to?”

  “I have to run into town for a bit, I’ve got a group Pilates session at the studio and we’re low on groceries. I’ll show you the app I use on my phone, you can add stuff to the list before I get to the store.”

  “Multi-tasking mom, eh?”

  Evie paused and grinned. “And loving every second of it. Little did I know that divorce would be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I want to hear all about that later. What should I do while you’re gone?”

  “Convince the boys to get dressed? We’ll go to the bush to get a tree when I get back.”

  Laney reached her hand out to rest on Evie’s arm. “Is Mom going to be okay with that?”

  “Of course! Her idea, actually. She’s gone over to Ted’s farm to pick up the wagon.”

  Chapter Two

  Laney was hiding under a blanket on the couch. It had taken her an hour to corral Connor and Max into their room, and after promising them chocolate from her secret stash, they had agreed to get dressed for the day. She hadn’t meant to lie down, but after her long drive a little catnap sounded perfect. She could hear faint peals of laughter, then thumping, a door opening and next, more clearly this time, Max counting. Another game of hide-and-seek. Pounding steps told her Connor planned on hiding in the attic, and she closed her eyes.

  Her moment of peace was soon interrupted, not by target-seeking little boys, but a knock at the back door. Pulling the afghan around her shoulders, she padded into the kitchen. Bright light poured in the windows from the mid-morning sun. A large male body that she would recognize anywhere filled the glass window in the door. Seeing him here, on her mother’s doorstep, was both familiar and completely unexpected. Her steps faltered and she stopped a few feet shy of the door.

  At the funeral, he had worn a suit, and looked handsome, clean-cut and grown-up, a very different man than the college student she had loved. On her mother’s doorstep in a fitted ski jacket and a wool toque, he looked like...himself. Shoulders a bit broader, maybe, but his body still looked lean and hard, even disguised by winter layers. Sunlight caught half of his stubble-flecked jaw. She could feel the rasp of his cheek against hers.

  She dragged in a ragged breath and pressed her palms to her side. Normal hypothalamic response to an unexpected stressor from the past. Her pulse felt thready, and she wondered if she might pass out. Fight or flight? No, Laney would faint. She closed her eyes and willed herself to not see him as a threat. Their last encounter had been entirely reasonable. She’d been distracted by grief and they’d been surrounded by people, but this was the boy that broke her heart. Man. This was the man who broke her heart. Now here he was, on her doorstep, looking far too fine. And they were alone. She could faintly hear the boys upstairs, and hoped that the
y wouldn’t notice the visitor.

  Kyle didn’t seem surprised that she hadn’t opened the door. He ducked his head for a moment, as if acknowledging that this must be awkward, then lifted it again, his mouth set in a straight line.

  “Hey,” he mouthed, then turned and pointed at the driveway.

  She edged closer, peering out the side window. A green tractor was parked beside her Audi, a large farm wagon hitched behind it. She stared at the tractor for a while, wondering if the next few minutes of her life could maybe not happen. When Kyle didn’t magically disappear, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “Hi.”

  “Your mom asked me to drive the wagon over.”

  She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “My mom.”

  “Yeah. Laney … I didn’t know you were here, she didn’t say.”

  She stared at him, words failing her. His returning gaze was warmer than she deserved for her rudeness, and she offered a weak smile.

  “I was at Ted’s place when she walked over, and she said that she wasn’t dressed for riding a tractor.”

  “She was wearing jeans!”

  Kyle shrugged. “I didn’t think that much about it, I just drove the tractor across the road.” He flicked his eyes over her and she pulled the blanket tighter. He took his time meeting her gaze again, and when he did, his smile was warm and interested. Was that wishful thinking on his part, or hers?

  He raised his hand as if he might touch her arm, then changed his mind and waved instead as he stepped back. “I’ll go now. It was nice to see you again.”

  She bit her lower lip as he turned and walked down the steps toward the gravel drive. He stepped past her car, and she realized he was departing on foot.

  “Kyle?”

  He turned in surprise and angled his head to the side in a silent response.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I just live down at the corner, in the old school house. I’m fixing it up. You should come by.” And with that he turned and ambled down the drive, soon obscured by heavy oak branches. Laney stood in the doorframe watching for a few minutes, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, oblivious to the winter cold.