The phone rang, and Harper grabbed it. “Lake Side Resort. This is Harper Clancy.”

“Great. I was hoping you might answer,” Wyatt said.

“I’ve got to—” she started.

“I’ve got bad news—” he said at the same time.

They both stopped for a long, silent moment and finally he said, “You go first.”

“No, you,” she said.

“I was coming to the lake with four clients for a weekend fishin’ trip. Buddies of mine now. But one of them had a heart attack about an hour ago. I’ll call later and cancel our reservations, but I’m going to have to cancel our date tonight. I’m so, so sorry.” His deep drawl seemed sincere. “Now you.”

“It wasn’t a date. You didn’t even have to call. You just stay with your friend, and I’ll take a rain check,” she said.

“Thank you. If I can get away later this evening, I’ll call you,” he said.

“Don’t worry if you can’t,” she said, already planning to unplug the phone in her cabin as soon as she got home that evening.

“’Bye, then.”

“’Bye, Wyatt.”

Zed finished making coffee and glanced over his bony shoulder. “No date tonight?”

“It wasn’t a date to begin with. He was just going to come by and visit on the porch for a while. And we lost the rent on three cabins. His friend has had a heart attack,” she said flatly.

“I’m sorry,” Zed said.

“About the heart attack or the fact that we lost rent?”

“Both, but mostly because I think you wanted to see him this evenin’,” he answered.

“I’ve gotten over worse in my life,” she answered. “But I bet that some of your good strong coffee will help everything.”

“Always does.” Zed nodded.

It was ham day at the café, and every chair was filled by twelve o’clock. Harper spun, taking orders and refilling glasses. And then a man and wife arrived with three little daughters, blondes spread out from about a year old to somewhere around nine.

Harper stopped halfway across the floor and turned around so fast that the room did a couple of hard spins. She made it to the kitchen before she slid down on the linoleum, wrapped her hands around her knees, and began to sob. Zed stopped what he was doing and sat down beside her, drew her into his arms, and let her soak his shirt with her tears.

“What is it, child?”

“Little girls,” she sobbed.

“Do they remind you of when you sisters were little?”

She shook her head. “No, they’re . . .” And the sobbing started again. “I need a drink.”

“You need to let go of this burden, child. Talk to me.”

“I gave her away and those little girls remind me of how she’d look,” she answered in short bursts of words.

“Gave who away?” Zed asked.

“My baby daughter. I was only sixteen and I couldn’t raise her and Mother was mortified about what her friends would think. She and Daddy wouldn’t help me . . .” She clung to Zed as if he were a lifeline in a category-five tornado.

“So that’s what happened that summer that changed everything.” Zed patted her back. “Why didn’t you call your granny?”

“Mama said that Granny’d hate me and I loved her too much to have her disappointed in me. Oh, Uncle Zed, today she’s nine years old . . .” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me, child.” Tears dripped off Zed’s chin and joined hers on the front of his shirt. “I’m so sorry that your mother made you believe that about me and Annie. We would have taken you right in here to live with us.”

“I was sixteen, scared, and angry, and halfway across the United States.”

“Did you love the father?”

“I thought I did, but he was only sixteen, too, and I couldn’t . . .” She wiped her face. “We’ve got customers.”

“And they’ll wait or leave. You are more important than any of them people,” he said.

“I love you, Uncle Zed,” she whispered.

“And I’ve always loved all you girls. Y’all was my family as much as you were Annie’s.”

She stood up as gracefully as she could and held out a hand toward Zed. He put his into hers; lifting him was like pulling up a bag of air. She hadn’t realized how thin he’d gotten until that moment.

“Wyatt?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You ever goin’ to tell him?”

“I don’t know if I can. Tellin’ you was the second hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Zed hugged her tightly. “You’re in the right place to lay down this heavy burden, child. Let me and your sisters help you with this.”

“Please don’t tell my sisters,” she whispered.

“That’s not my place, honey. You take the rest of the day off. Tawny can come help me out. You go on out the back door, so you don’t have to see them little girls. I’ll tell Tawny that you’re sick and we don’t want to spread it around,” he said.

“You sure?” Harper asked.