River’s End

to fade. Slowly, she ordered herself to relax, one muscle at a time. She opened her eyes, stared at her fingers, made them flex and release, flex and release. Control. She had control. She was not a victim, would never, never be a victim. Not of circumstance or her own ill-buried fears.
    With one last shuddering breath, she leaned back again. Better, that was better, she thought. It was just that it had come on so fast, had taken her completely by surprise. It had been more than two years since she’d had a full-blown panic attack. Two years ago, she remembered, when she’d made plans to come to Los Angeles and visit her aunt and uncle. Then, she’d gotten as far as the airport when it had washed over her. The cold sweats, the shakes, the terrible need to get out, just get out and away from all the people.
    She’d beaten it back, but she hadn’t been able to face the plane, hadn’t been able to face where it was going. The shame of that failure had drowned her in depression for weeks.
    This time she’d gotten here, she reminded herself. She’d batted back the onslaught of the panic twice on the drive down and had been so certain she’d won completely. She had won, she corrected. She was here, she was all right. She was back in control.
    She’d been right to follow her impulse, to take the chore of returning Noah’s car herself. Even though it had caused difficulties with her grandparents, she’d done the right thing. Concentrating on the drive had gotten her where she’d wanted to go. Where she hadn’t been able to go for twenty years.
    Or nearly gotten her there, she corrected, and, pushing the damp hair off her brow, she studied Noah’s house.
    It wasn’t what she’d envisioned at all. It was pretty, almost feminine in the soft tones of the wood, the cheerful sweeps and spears of flowers.
    His garden wasn’t some haphazard bachelor attempt to brighten up his real estate, but a careful, clever arrangement by someone who not only knew flowers, but appreciated them.
    She slipped out of the car, relieved that her legs were nearly steady. She intended to go straight to the door, knock, give him his keys and a polite smile. She’d ask him to call a cab, and get out and on her way to her aunt’s as quickly as possible. But she couldn’t resist the flowers, the charm of verbena, the fresh chipper colors of Gerber daisies, the bright trumpets of the reliable petunias. He hadn’t stuck with the ordinary, she noted, and had used the small space available on either side of the walk very well. Experimenting, she noted, crowding specimen to specimen so that it all tangled together in a natural burst rather than an obviously planned design. It was clever and creative, and both the planting and maintaining must have involved a great deal of work. Still, he hadn’t been quite as conscientious with the weeding as he might have been, and her gardener’s heart had her crouching down to tug up the random invaders.
    Within a minute she was humming and losing herself in a well-loved task. Noah was so happy to see his car sitting in its usual spot that he overtipped the driver and bolted out of the cab.
    “Oh baby, welcome home.” He murmured it, stroked a loving hand over the rear fender and had nearly executed a snappy dance of joy when he spotted Olivia. The surprise came first, or he assumed the quick jerk in his stomach was surprise. Then came the warmth. She looked so damn pretty, kneeling by his flowers, a faded gray cap shading her eyes.
    He started toward her. then hooked his thumbs in his front pockets because his hands wanted to touch. “This is a surprise,” he said, and watched her head snap up, watched her body freeze. Like a doe in the crosshairs, Noah mused. “I wasn’t expecting to see you weeding my gummy snaps.”
    “They needed it.” Furiously embarrassed, she got to her feet and brushed garden dirt off her hands. “If you’re going to plant flowers, you should tend to them.”
    “I haven’t had a lot of time just recently. What are you doing here, Liv?”
    “Returning your car. You were told to expect it.”
    “I was also expecting some burly guy named Bob behind the wheel. Not that I’m complaining. Come on in.”
    “I just need you to call me a cab.”
    “Come on in,” he repeated and moved past her to the door. “At least I can give you a drink to pay for the weeding service.”
    He unlocked the front door, glanced back to where she continued to stand. “Don’t be a