Letters from Peaceful Lane (New Americana 3)

Limping on her twisted ankle, she climbed the stairs to her room and the solitary king-size bed. There would be no letter from Kate to read tonight. Except for the one that was sealed, she had read them all. Now she was on her own.

* * *

Brianna was driving to work the next morning when she got the phone call from the dean at Northwestern. Pulse racing, she pulled off the road and switched off the engine to take the call.

“Thanks for getting back to me so soon,” she said. “As I told you, I need to know about my readmission as soon as possible.”

“I understand.” The dean, a middle-aged woman, was pleasant but not warm. “I got to work this morning with a little time to spare, so I read through your application. Unfortunately . . .” The woman paused. Brianna’s heart sank.

“Unfortunately,” the dean continued, “your grades aren’t high enough to compete with the new students who are applying every day. A B-plus average would be good enough to keep you in school if you were already here. But it’s not good enough to get you readmitted—especially since you were barely passing most of your classes before you dropped out this fall. I’m sorry. I know it’s a disappointment. But there are other colleges.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you for your time.” Brianna ended the call, put her forehead on the steering wheel, and cried. She’d known this might happen, and she’d done her best t

o prepare herself for bad news. But when it came, it was like being punched in the face. Until now she hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted to go back to Northwestern—and to Liam.

After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, she started the car and pulled back onto the road. Last year she’d earned decent grades. But then, this fall, she’d done the unthinkable—she’d fallen head over heels in love.

It hadn’t been Liam’s fault. He’d encouraged her to study for exams and get her assignments in on time. But all she’d wanted to do was be with him. And when she wasn’t with him, all she’d wanted to do was think about him.

And then her father had wrecked the Porsche and almost died. She’d had no choice except to come home, where she’d gotten herself arrested. Now she was trying to grow up, repair the damage, and take charge of her life. But it wasn’t going to be easy.

She would wait until tonight to give Liam the bad news. It didn’t make sense to call him now and ruin his day. Her father could wait, too. Meanwhile she would need to start looking at other options. She had to work this morning, but later today it might not hurt to get some advice from an old friend.

* * *

Allison woke to the aromas of fresh coffee and bacon drifting up the stairs. Sunlight was streaming into the room. It had taken her hours to fall asleep last night. When slumber finally came, it had pulled her under like anesthesia.

She wondered who could be cooking in the kitchen?

Swinging her legs off the bed, she stood. Her ankle was still sore, her hands scraped from falling on the rough asphalt. Wincing with each step, she found her robe, slipped it on, and limped out into the hall.

Brianna had already left for work. Her door was partway open, her bed neatly made. The photo of her family sat in its usual place, on the bookshelf. Kate’s sunlit, freckled face smiled at Allison from the frame.

Let him go, Kate! Stop coming between us!

Allison projected the thought, as if it could penetrate the glass and somehow reach its target. But Kate’s smile was unchanging, as if she knew that she’d always be first.

Allison closed Brianna’s door and went on downstairs. She found Burke standing by the stove, tending bacon in a cast-iron skillet. Freshly shaved, dressed in chinos and a long-sleeved polo, he looked fit and healthy. But fixing breakfast? That was something new.

Was this his way of making up for last night?

Allison blinked herself fully awake. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m declaring myself recovered,” he said. “I’ve been off the pain pills for twenty-four hours. I was hoping you’d let me take you for a drive this morning after breakfast.”

“A drive where?”

“To see an old friend. Come on, sit down.”

Neither of them mentioned his calling her by Kate’s name last night. It had happened before and would no doubt happen again. Aggravating as Allison found it, there was no point in making it an issue.

Allison crossed the kitchen to the table. Only then did he notice that she was limping. He frowned. “What on earth—?”

“I went for a walk last night and twisted my ankle. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? I don’t think so.” He pulled a chair away from the table. “Sit down. Let’s have a look.” He motioned her to the chair. Allison sat down and raised her pajama-clad leg for him to see. He dropped partway to a crouch, wincing with sudden pain. “It seems I’m not as recovered as I’d hoped,” he said, moving another chair to face hers and sitting down. “Now let’s see that ankle.”

His hand cradled her bare foot, strong, gentle fingers testing the pain. “It doesn’t seem swollen. Does it hurt here?” He probed just above the ankle bone. She whimpered.