“No,” she said curtly, looking around the room for Andrew. But he wasn't there. Heading through a haze of smoke,past a couple making out on the ratty couch, another against the kitchen counter, she went into the dark hall.

Andrew's door was closed and she smiled at the thought of finding him in there, hunched over his industrialengineering books while the party raged a hallway away. He'd told her it was the closest thing to getting a degreein boat building and when she'd flipped through his books and saw all the strange equations and graphs, she'd beenso impressed.

She didn't knock. Why would she, when she'd spent so many hours in his bedroom? Her heartbeat kicked up again atthe thought of what she was about to tell him as she turned the knob and opened the door. She already knew what hisreaction would be, that he'd pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless.

But as the door cracked open, instead of finding him at his desk, concentrating on homework, she saw two figuresmoving together in the semidarkness. The sheet had fallen off and there was so much naked skin, more than she'dever seen. They were facing backward on the bed, as if they'd been in too much of a rush to figure out which waywas up.

Her first thought was that it couldn't be him. But it was — oh God, how could he? — and all she could thinkaround the despair, the betrayal that was rapidly taking over every cell in her body, was that it was supposed tobe her beneath him, not some beautiful girl with long dark hair and deeply tanned skin writhing on the bed, callingout his name.

But ultimately it was the expression on his face that she knew she'd never get out of her head. The intensepleasure of release, of all those pent-up years of sexual frustration finally being relieved.

With another girl.

Josh found her there, propped up against the front door, feeling just as nauseous now as she had so many years ago.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

She blinked hard, had to work like hell to push away the vision of Andrew making love to someone else.

“Nothing,” she finally managed. “Just getting ready to head off to work.”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “Whatever.”

Watching him head into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal, she thought again how much she hated how strained things had been between them since that afternoon at the diner when he'd blown her off.

Forcing a smile, she asked, “Got any fun plans for today?”

He shrugged. “Nope. Just hanging out.”

Of course he didn't want to talk to her. He never did anymore. She bit her tongue, knowing better by now than to try to force it. It only made him clam up more.

Her son was growing up. And there was nothing she could do about it. Besides, hadn't she wished her parents would get with the program when she was his age? What went around, she had often discovered over the years as a parent, had a disturbing tendency to come around. The solution was easy. She needed to chill out. Back off a bit.

Still, she couldn't leave without going over and giving him a kiss on his head, even if he pulled away mid smooch.

Grabbing her keys off the counter, she headed into town to open up the diner, working overtime, the entire way, to push memories of Andrew out of her head.

And to convince herself that it wasn't going to hurt like hell to see him again.

* * *

Andrew MacKenzie had planned never to come back to Poplar Cove. And yet he'd just flown into the Albany International airport, picked up a rental car and wound through the same back-country roads he'd driven so many times with his parents when he was a boy.

As a kid, he'd practically held his breath until their log cabin came into view, hurtling out of the car as soon as they parked. Now, just like then, his heart was pounding when he made the turn off the two-lane highway, but for entirely different reasons.

He wasn't a kid with his whole life ahead of him anymore. Instead, he was a man heading toward fifty with a bullet. And all he had to show for it was a failed marriage, forced retirement from the law firm he'd given a hundred twenty hours a week to, and a couple of kids he barely knew.

That was the worst part. Not knowing his sons, having to hear from strangers how heroic they were, that they were two in a million, the best of the best.

He should already know it, damn it, had made God a promise two years ago when his youngest son had ended up in the ICU, unconscious and burned, that if only Connor would be all right, if he would walk out of the hospital in one piece, Andrew would do anything. He would become a better husband. Spend less time at the office. Get close to his sons.

But it hadn't worked out like that at all. Connor was a survivor through and through, thank God, but Elise had served him with the divorce papers practically the same day Connor left the hospital. And although he'd reached out to Sam and Connor again and again, neither of them had wanted anything to do with him. Not until last year, when Sam had fallen in love with the beautiful TV personality from San Francisco. Suddenly, the lines had opened up.

Andrew knew he had Dianna to thank for it, that she'd encouraged Sam to return some calls, to accept a couple of dinner invitations.

Connor, on the other hand, was a much tougher nut to crack. Through Sam, Andrew had learned just how much they identified with their jobs. Being a hotshot wasn't just something that paid the bills, it was who they were, all the way to the core. Which was why Andrew had repeatedly offered to help Connor with the Forest Service appeal process, but his son had never taken him up on it.

And then yesterday, Sam had told Andrew the bad news. The Forest Service thought Connor's accident was too extreme. He would never fight fire again.

Andrew picked up the phone and bought the first ticket out to Albany. Connor needed him. For once he wouldn't fail him.

The car drew closer to Poplar Cove and between the cabins, the lake shined so blue he almost thought he was imagining it. Even with sunglasses on he had to squint. Thirty years he'd spent in San Francisco, not once taking a long weekend to go hiking, to throw a fishing pole into the back of his car and find a well-stocked lake.

His chest squeezed. God, how he'd missed this place. He slowed the car so that he could take in the water, the mountains, the familiar old camps.

For a moment, he forgot everything except his intense pleasure at being back at Blue Mountain Lake.

But even as he sat in his car in the middle of the road, it struck him, powerfully, that although he'd been experiencing a major sense of dйjа vu since landing in Albany, the fact of the matter was that nothing was the same as it had been thirty years ago.