Free Back to McGuffey's by Liz Flaherty

athlete—he was less muscled now, less kinetic. But still strong. Still...well, she didn’t know, but she was safe when he held her.
    There was also a gentleness to him that was new. This Ben McGuffey would take care not to cause pain, either physical or otherwise, in a way the younger model had not. This man, who smelled of soap and spearmint and outdoors just as he always had, would not break up with her in his father’s tavern.
    So she kissed him back, and pretty soon her arms wound around his neck and her curves fit themselves into his angles like the two halves of the broken-heart necklace he’d won for her at the Danville fair when they were in high school.
    A few minutes later, when self-control was in serious danger of disappearing altogether, someone cleared his throat. And someone else cleared hers.
    “I’m sorry,” the inn guest, Mr. Fallon, said in a hesitant voice. “We were out walking, and I think Mrs. Comer accidentally locked us out. Do you happen to have a key?”
    “Of course.” Kate drew back from Ben’s arms, her gaze meeting his for a flickering instant before she turned a smile toward the guests. “Good night, Ben.” There, she said it. Casually and dismissively. It was painless. Almost.
    Ben watched as she unlocked the door and reached inside to turn on a light. “’Night, Katy.” He nodded to the Fallons and set off toward the garage. Sally trotted along behind him. Lucy moaned in her sleep.
    “We’re sorry,” said Mr. Fallon again. “We both have children—we know what it’s like being interrupted.”
    Kate laughed. “I’ll bet you do. But sometimes being interrupted is the best thing all around. Can I get you some hot chocolate?”
    “No, thanks.” The couple was no longer paying attention to her. They went off to bed with muttered good-nights, and Kate stood alone in the inn’s dark kitchen, looking across the tree-filled backyard at the apartment above the garage. The lights came on, and Ben stood at the window, gazing toward the house. She wondered if he could see her, if he was looking at her with the same regret she was feeling. After a moment, he waved but didn’t move away, and she knew he was aware of her.
    It was an invitation. All she had to do was step outside and he would probably meet her halfway across the yard. They could—what? Pick up where they’d left off thirteen years ago? Start over with a relationship just as they were starting over with their lives?
    She closed her eyes and relived the kiss they’d just shared, felt again the warmth of his touch, and started toward the door. It would be so easy to go to him, to take comfort where it was offered. Oh, yes, it would be easy, and it would be fun; an enjoyable little dip into whatever pool her life was now. But it wasn’t a chance she was willing to take.
    She checked the lock on the door and ran up the back stairs before she could change her mind.
    * * *
    “I F YOU MAKE a mistake, that’s it, you just make a mistake. It won’t be one I haven’t made at least once before and probably twice.” Marce gave Kate a hug and stood back, her bright eyes a little misty. “It’s odd, isn’t it? Sometimes it’s unbearable being here without Frank, but I can’t stand to leave, either.”
    Kate thought of the lot on Alcott Street where her house had stood. The ashes had scarcely cooled before the developer who owned half of her block had made an offer. “It’s perfect for a loan shop or a phone store, Ms. Rafael. Fionnegan doesn’t have either one.”
    She’d looked at the old-growth maples at the back of the lot. She’d created a winding path between the trees and coaxed flowers out of a rocky little garden. A bigger garden plot had supplied vegetables to half the neighborhood. She thought of the upstairs apartments and the duplexes that were still on the street. She remembered Burning Bright, the candle store, and the independent bookstore called Louisa’s Garret and the beauty shop named