Travis bought an ice cream cone at the corner store, something he hadn't done in a very long time. If he was going to be forced to walk down memory lane, at least he could enjoy himself a little. A new park had been built to house the town's old statues, and he sat on a granite bench to watch the people go by.

It was a charming little town, full of people who knew almost everything about each other. A place where the people who lived on either side of you were truly neighbors.

But not a good town to get married in. He refused to let that thought darken his renewed good spirits. He'd find a way to convince Kristen that the Riverside Inn was not a good choice for their wedding and reception, and certainly not for their honeymoon. Maybe he'd just put his foot down and say no.

He didn't need an excuse. Regardless of what Kristen thought, it was his wedding, too. He just wished she hadn't pointed out that it was the first wedding for each of them. Not correcting her might only be a lie of omission, but it was still a lie. He didn't like being dishonest with her.

And thoughts of dishonesty brought him back to Gena. He had noticed that mischievous sparkle in her eyes when she disputed his claim that they didn't need to decide right away. She knew they wouldn't be getting married at the Riverside Inn. He'd made that very clear, and she had agreed. Still, she had him scared there for a second, and one look at her face told him she had done it purposely just to make him suffer.

Where was that fire fifteen years ago? Maybe it had always been there, and he had just been too young and too stupid to see it. It was hard for him to believe that such a captivating woman had been concealed under the baggy clothes and bad haircuts.

That thought shook him so badly he almost dropped his ice cream. Did he really think she was captivating?

Yes, he acknowledged grudgingly. Gena Taylor was captivating. She was beautiful and intelligent, and she didn't feel the need to make herself look artificial. He only wished he'd seen it sooner. About fifteen years sooner, because now it was too late. Tomorrow night he would get in the car and exit her life again.

I wish I had seen it sooner? That had to be exhaustion speaking. He refused to believe he was feeling ... was it regret? It couldn't be, because walking out on that farce of a marriage was one of the smartest things he'd ever done.

Two teenaged girls walking toward the park caught his eye. One of them was upset, frowning and making choppy gestures with her hands as she spoke. Something tugged at his subconscious, and he thought there was something very familiar about the girl. He just couldn't place it.

Maybe she was the daughter of one of his old school friends. She'd be about the right age. Fifteen, he guessed.

Suddenly his mind produced the memory of a picture. It took another second to place the image. The photograph was of a young blonde woman cradling a baby on her lap. He was the baby and the woman was his mother.

The girl and her friend drew closer and he matched her features with those in the picture. The thick blonde curls ... heart-shaped face ... the eyes. He saw that distinct shade of blue when he looked at his mother ... or in a mirror.

The girl's resemblance to that picture--to himself--was too uncanny to ignore, and he stood, black raspberry ice cream dripping unnoticed onto his hand.

Fifteen ... She looked straight at him before her friend pulled her into the store, piercing him with her blue gaze. Fifteen ... my mother ... oh my God.

He dropped the ice cream in the grass and started running up the hill toward the Inn.

Gena could hear Travis shouting her name before he even entered the house. He knows--somehow--he knows. She was upstairs, but she heard the loud echo of his footsteps and the slamming of doors as he looked for her.

She was down the stairs and in her private living room when the door flew open and Travis was there. His chest heaved from anger and exertion, and Gena trembled in anticipation of his rage.

She watched him look around, saw his gaze fall on the school portrait of Mia that hung over the sofa.

"Who is that?" he demanded in a hoarse voice, pointing at the picture.

Gena swallowed and lifted her chin. "That's Mia--my daughter."

She saw Kristen appear behind Travis, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Travis? What's wrong? Why are you shouting?"

"She's my daughter, isn't she?"

"What? What is going on here?" Kristen demanded, but they both ignored her.

Gena's hands fisted at her sides. "She's my daughter. You left, remember?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" he shouted.

"Having a baby was the reason we got married, or did you forget that part?" Gena yelled back in a volume that matched his.

He was advancing slowly toward her, his face white with anger, and she backed up until she felt the seat of the rocker hit behind her knees. "You were lying. I saw the proof."