Chapter 2: Ghost from the Past

I should have known that peace never lasted long in my life.

It was my third day at the diner, and I was starting to feel something I hadn't felt in years—normal. Emma had made friends with Jenny Miller's eight-year-old son Tommy, and they spent my shifts reading books in the store downstairs. For the first time since we'd left David, my daughter was acting like a regular kid instead of a scared rabbit.

That's when he walked in.

I was refilling the coffee pot, humming along to the oldies station Betty Ann always played, when the bell chimed. I turned toward the door with my practiced waitress smile ready, and felt my heart stop.

Jake Miller. Six feet of grown man where there used to be a lanky eighteen-year-old boy, but those eyes were unmistakable.

He stopped just inside the door, staring at me like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he had. The girl he'd known was long gone, replaced by a woman who'd learned to flinch at sudden movements and sleep with one ear always listening for footsteps.

"Lisa?" His voice was deeper now, rougher. "Lisa Harper?"

Every customer in the diner turned to look. Small towns lived for moments like this—drama and history colliding over coffee and pie. I felt my cheeks burn as I fumbled with the coffee pot, nearly dropping it.

"It's me," I managed, then cleared my throat and tried again. "Hi, Jake."

He approached the counter slowly, like I might bolt if he moved too fast. Smart man. Running was still my first instinct when faced with anything unexpected.

"I heard you were back in town," he said. "Mrs. Patterson at the post office mentioned it."

Of course she had. Privacy was a foreign concept in Riverside. "Just got here a few days ago."

"You look..." He paused, "You look good."

Liar. I looked tired and worn and about ten years older than my thirty-three years. But I appreciated the kindness.

"Coffee?" I asked, because that felt safer than small talk.

"Please."

I poured him a cup with hands that only trembled a little.

"Lisa—"

"Mama!" Emma's voice cut through the tension as she burst through the connecting door from the bookstore, Tommy right behind her. "Tommy showed me the best book about dragons and—"

She stopped when she saw Jake, her expression going from excited to wary in an instant. My daughter had learned to read adults' faces the way other kids read picture books, always watching for signs of trouble.

Jake looked down at her with something like wonder. "This must be Emma."

I tensed. How did he know her name? Then I remembered—small town gossip traveled faster than wildfire. Of course everyone knew about Sarah Harper's daughter coming home with a little girl.

"Emma, this is Jake Miller. He's..." I struggled with how to introduce him. An old friend seemed inadequate. The boy who broke my heart felt too complicated. "We knew each other in high school."

Emma stepped closer to me, her small hand finding mine. She was braver than she used to be, but still cautious around men. For good reason.

Jake noticed the gesture and something flickered in his eyes. He crouched down to Emma's level, making himself less intimidating.

"It's nice to meet you, Emma. I'm the new sheriff here in town."

Sheriff. Of course he was. The boy who'd run away to escape his family's expectations had come back as a protector. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"Are you going to arrest someone?" Emma asked, her curiosity overcoming her shyness.

Jake smiled, and for a moment I saw the boy I'd fallen in love with at sixteen. "Only if they're causing trouble. Are you planning to cause trouble?"

Emma giggled. "Maybe a little trouble."

"Well, a little trouble's okay. It's the big trouble you want to avoid."

I watched this interaction with my heart in my throat. Emma rarely warmed up to people this quickly, especially men. But something about Jake's calm presence seemed to put her at ease.

"Emma, why don't you go help Tommy organize the children's section?" I suggested. "I'll be right here."

She looked between Jake and me, her five-year-old instincts picking up on the undercurrents. "Okay, Mama. But yell if you need me."

The protectiveness in her voice almost broke me. No child should feel responsible for keeping her mother safe.

After she left, an uncomfortable silence settled between Jake and me. He straightened up, suddenly seeming even taller.

"She's beautiful," he said quietly. "She looks like you did at that age."

"Thank you."

"Lisa, I know this is awkward, but I need to say something."

My stomach clenched. "Jake—"

"I'm sorry." The words came out in a rush. "For leaving the way I did. For not saying goodbye. For not calling or writing. There's no excuse for it."

"You left for college," I said carefully. "People leave for college all the time."

"I left because I was a coward." His voice was quiet but steady. "My dad wanted me to take over the family business, marry you, settle down. Everyone expected it. Hell, I expected it. But I wasn't ready to be what everyone needed me to be."

The hurt I'd buried for fifteen years rose up in my throat. "So you just disappeared."

"I enlisted instead of going to college. Spent eight years in the Army, then ten years working law enforcement in Chicago. Kept telling myself I was building a career, becoming someone worthy of coming back to."

"And now you're back."

"Now I'm back."

The hypocrisy of it hit me hard. He was talking about running from responsibility while I'd been literally running for my life. But he didn't know that. To him, I probably looked like I'd had a normal life—marriage, motherhood, the American dream.

"I'm glad you found your way home," I said, and meant it. Whatever hurt remained from our teenage years, Jake was a good man. I could see it in how gently he'd spoken to Emma, in the regret in his voice.

"What about you? Emma's father—"

"Isn't in our lives anymore." The words came out harder than I'd intended, and Jake's eyes sharpened. He was still a cop, trained to read between lines and spot trouble.

"Lisa—"

"More coffee?" I held up the pot like a shield.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He left a five-dollar tip on a two-dollar cup of coffee and stood to go. At the door, he turned back.

"It's really good to see you, Lisa. I've missed you."

After he left, I stood frozen behind the counter, my heart pounding. Betty Ann appeared beside me, having witnessed the entire interaction from the kitchen.

"That boy's been carrying a torch for you since high school," she said matter-of-factly.

"That was a long time ago."

"Some feelings don't age out, honey. Question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

"I don't know if I can do anything about it."

But as I watched Jake's patrol car pull away, I felt something I hadn't felt in years—the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to face everything alone anymore.