Slowly the color returned to her face. The panic faded from her eyes.
“Better?” he asked a few minutes later.
She sat up straight, folded her arms over her stomach. “Yes. Thank you. I don’t know what that was, but I’m glad it’s over.”
“You were hyperventilating. Happen before?”
“No.” She rubbed her lips together.
He believed her, but something had likely brought this on. Some medical conditions caused hyperventilation, but this seemed situational, brought on by shock or panic.
“Did you know that woman?”
“What woman?”
“The one in the van. You were staring at her.”
She looked away from him. “Never seen her before. I’m fine now. Are you a doctor or something?”
“EMT.”
“That’s handy. I, uh, I think I’m good now.” She started to rise to her feet. “I should get back to—”
“Easy.” He took her elbow when she wobbled, standing with her. She was through the crisis, embarrassed now and seeking escape.
She disengaged from him and lifted her chin, professional smile in place. “I’m fine now. Thank you again. I appreciate your help.”
“No problem,” he said, but she was already walking away.
Chapter Six
Wyatt woke with a sudden jerk. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and the suffocating heat had him shoving the covers away. The gray veil of daylight filtered through the gap in the curtains. He’d almost made it through the night without a nightmare.
He ran a hand over his face, the dream lingering like a bad odor. As usual it had been all too realistic, but he was bound this time, hands and feet. If only he really had been. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so guilty.
He pushed out of bed. He had a lot to do today. In the shower he spent a few extra minutes appreciating the inn’s excellent water pressure. He thought of Grace’s episode last night. What had provoked it? He hoped she felt better today.
He dressed in hiking clothes, stocked his backpack with water, and headed downstairs. The steps creaked in a familiar way, and he ran his hand down the railing nostalgically. He used to be so happy to get here that he’d wake up early every morning for a week or two. Dash down the stairs to find his mom in the kitchen making pancakes or on the porch enjoying a cup of coffee with his dad.
But his family wasn’t at the forefront of his mind today. How would Grace respond to him after yesterday? Would she be überprofessional to compensate for her embarrassment, or would she avoid him altogether? Hard to manage when you worked the front desk.
Wyatt was headed to the town library first, but he’d purposely avoided looking up the address. As he took the last stair, however, he discovered the person behind the front desk was not Grace and deflated.
The twentysomething man looked up from a spreadsheet wearing a congenial expression. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
He looked to be in his midtwenties and dressed professionally in a polo and khakis. He was tall and fit with dark hair and bright-blue eyes. Something about his smile reminded him of Grace’s.
“I’m Levi, one of the innkeepers.”
Ah, the brother. “Wyatt.”
“Checking out? Or is there something else I can help you with?”
Sounds of movement thumped from above. Wyatt looked at the ceiling as if, by sheer force of will, he might make Grace appear.
He stepped up to the desk. “I was planning to hit the library today. Is it within walking distance?”
“Only about ten minutes.” Levi pulled out a town map. “We’re here. You follow Bayview into town, make a right at Church Street. It’s two blocks down on your left. You can take this. GPS is spotty around here.”
He took the map. “Thanks.”
“Do you have time for breakfast?”
His stomach was already twisting at the savory aromas emanating from the kitchen. But before Wyatt could respond, footfalls sounded on the steps, more than one pair. Grace and another woman made the turn on the landing and continued down.
He didn’t miss the way Grace’s steps stuttered as their eyes connected.
She lifted her chin. “Hello.”
“Morning.”
“I’m Molly, Grace’s sister.” The brunette popped out from behind Grace. She bubbled from the inside out with energy and warmth.
“Wyatt. Nice to meet you.”
“We didn’t really get a chance to meet yesterday in the dining room.”
Grace cleared her throat, giving her sister a warning look.
“I hope you enjoyed your meal,” Molly said. “Nobody puts out a spread like Miss Della.”
He opened his mouth to reply.
“You should definitely have breakfast this morning,” Molly continued. “You don’t want to miss the blueberry streusel muffins. Or the homemade granola. Well, about anything Miss Della makes is wonderful and—”
“Heading out on another hike?” Grace’s professional demeanor was in place with a little color in her cheeks.
He much preferred the high color to the ashen look of last night. “Eventually. I’m heading downtown to the library first.”
“Grace can show you the way.” The words erupted from Molly’s mouth like a geyser. “She was on her way to check out a rental space for her business, in town. It’s right on the way, isn’t it, Grace?”
Grace nailed her sister with a look. “I wouldn’t want him to miss out on Miss Della’s breakfast.”
“Actually, I’m not hungry just yet.”
Grace blinked at him.
“Perfect!” Molly bounced on her toes. “There you go then.”
A beat of uncomfortable silence passed.
Grace mushed her lips.
The brother glanced between Wyatt and Grace.
“Great,” Grace said finally. “It’s not far. Are you ready then?”
Wyatt hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “Whenever you are.”
* * *
Grace headed down the porch, Wyatt on her heels. At least she thought he was. The man was as stealthy as a mountain lion. She’d planned to slip out of the house unnoticed, and she certainly hadn’t planned on escorting Wyatt into town.
He made her nervous. All she’d done so far was embarrass herself in front of him. He probably thought she was a loon. Maybe she was. Who had a panic attack at the sight of a feeble old lady?
But it hadn’t been the old lady. It had been the van. The one that had riddled her childhood with nightmares. The one that had caused her to miss so many days of second grade that she’d been held back.
Even after all these years some things still triggered her: the sound of tires squealing, the first scent of summer in the air, the crunch of gravel under her feet. And now the van.
She shook away the memory. She’d been through counseling as a child. Her doting parents and concerned siblings were almost smothering. After months and months of remembering, she just wanted to forget. She finally told her family to stop. If she wanted to talk about it, she’d bring it up. They finally acquiesced. It had been years since there’d been a single reference to that early summer day.
But Grace had not forgotten.