Page 4 of Forgiveness River

“What time was this?” Raven asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Hattie shrugged. “Early. You know Duncan—he’s half crazed when he gets an idea for a painting. He was out the door before five to catch the light just right.”

Five in the morning. When Wyatt should have been coming home from his shift, not driving down from an abandoned cabin.

A cold sensation spread from Raven’s chest to her fingertips. Was this where he’d been going? All those nights he claimed to be working extra hours or helping with special DEA operations?

No. She pushed the thought away forcefully. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Maybe there had been a callout. Maybe they were using the cabin for surveillance. Maybe?—

But the maybes felt hollow, even to her.

“Earth to Raven,” Hattie was saying, waving a hand in front of her face. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” Raven said, forcing a smile. “Just remembered I forgot to order those summer scarves.”

Hattie didn’t look convinced. “You know, if something’s going on…”

“Everything’s fine,” Raven insisted, her voice a little too bright. “Just busy with the season. You know how it gets.”

The concern in Hattie’s eyes didn’t fade, but she nodded. “If you say so. But just so you know, being an O’Hara by marriage means you’re stuck with all of us—the good, the bad, and the nosy.”

Raven laughed, though it felt slightly forced. “Don’t I know it. How’s the nursery coming along?”

Hattie allowed the subject change, launching into a description of Duncan’s latest project—a mural of Laurel Valley’s landscape on the nursery wall. Raven nodded and smiled in all the right places, but her mind was miles away, up a winding mountain road to an abandoned cabin.

“Don’t forget, dinner at The Lampstand tonight,” Hattie reminded her as she headed for the door. “It’s Mac’s college graduation party now that she and Ryder are back from Europe. Seven sharp. Bring that husband of yours if you can pry him away from whatever important police business is happening around here.”

Hattie’s words were casual, just friendly banter, but Raven felt them like a physical blow. How long could she keep pretending? The O’Haras were notorious for their family loyalty and uncanny ability to sense when something was amiss with one of their own. The “O’Hara network,” as it was affectionately known throughout Laurel Valley, was both a blessing and a curse.

The bell over the door rang and she looked down at her half-eaten lunch. She guessed her break was over. She pasted on her professional smile and turned to the customer. “Welcome to Raven Layne. Looking for something special today?”

But as she guided the tourist through her carefully curated collection, Raven’s thoughts remained fixed on that abandoned cabin at Twin Lakes Road. On Wyatt’s inexplicable presence there at dawn. On all the nights he’d come home smelling of stale bar smoke and secrets.

Tonight at The Lampstand, she’d be surrounded by O’Haras—people who could read her almost as well as they could read each other. People who loved Wyatt unconditionally, who trusted him without question.

People who would notice immediately if she didn’t.

Chapter Three

The Lampstand glowedlike a beacon at the heart of Laurel Valley as the sun began to set behind Twin Peaks. For over a century, the converted bank had stood as both a literal and figurative cornerstone of the community—a gathering place where locals came to celebrate life’s milestones, find comfort during hardships, or simply enjoy a good meal among friends.

Its name had always been more than just a clever moniker for a restaurant. As Simone O’Hara often reminded anyone who would listen, “A lampstand exists for one purpose—to hold the light high so everyone can see their way through darkness.” The metaphor wasn’t lost on the townsfolk, especially during the harsh Idaho winters when the glow from The Lampstand’s windows offered both physical warmth and spiritual hope.

Tonight, the private dining room hummed with O’Hara energy—laughter, overlapping conversations, and the occasional good-natured argument. Raven paused in the doorway, taking a moment to steel herself before stepping into the familial chaos. The aroma of Simone’s famous roast lamb and rosemary potatoes wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of fresh-baked bread and whatever decadent dessert was waiting in the kitchen.

“There she is!” Mac’s voice rose above the din as she bounded across the room, her dark curls almost contained in a messy bun on top of her head.

It was bittersweet to see the girl she remembered grow into the young woman who stood before her—more confident but with that same infectious enthusiasm that had defined her childhood. Ryder had barely been eighteen when Mac had been born, and Mac’s mother had taken off to parts unknown when she was only a couple of months old.

Raven and Wyatt had both been in elementary school when Ryder had announced he and Heather were pregnant and planning to get married after the baby came. Raven remembered well the chaos of that time—the fear and joy of two teenagers trying to figure out life with a new baby. But in the end, Heather hadn’t had the courage to stay and fight for her family, and she’d left Ryder to figure it out on his own.

But Mac had always been a joy, and all of the O’Haras had helped raise her. She was well loved by all. Raven squeezed her tight, holding on just a little too long.

“I was starting to think you were going to leave me to fend for myself with these people,” Mac said once she’d pulled back.

Raven laughed. “These people are your family.”

“Exactly my point,” Mac stage-whispered. “Hank and Colt have been arguing about the best fishing spot on Forgiveness River for forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes, Raven! About fish!”

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