Make You Feel My Love

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Liam looked up at the porch where Chelsea stood, leaning her hands on the railing. She smiled for a moment, then frowned. Obviously, he wasn’t a great actor if she’d seen through his mood that easily.

  “I didn’t expect to be back this soon either.” He stood. “Thanks for watching Chipper for me.”

  “Why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee?”

  “I wouldn’t want—”

  “Please.”

  All that awaited him at home were his own dark thoughts and some leftover lasagna. “Okay.” He ruffled Chipper’s ears. “Back inside, boy.”

  The dog seemed happy to obey. He ran onto the porch, greeting Chelsea with the same enthusiasm he’d shown his master. Liam was tempted to do the same thing. Run up onto the porch to be with her. Let her chase away the confusion swirling inside with a comforting hand. And why not? Yesterday, she’d shared some of her own hard truths. If he cared for her, didn’t he owe her the same honesty?

  He jammed his fingertips into the back pockets of his jeans. “Instead of coffee, would you mind a walk? I could use the exercise.”

  “No. I don’t mind.” Her smile returned as she pushed her hair back from her face. “Let me get some shoes on, and I’ll be right out.”

  Chipper returned to Liam once again, and the two of them walked down the drive to the edge of Alexander Road. A light-green car drove slowly by, headed east. Liam couldn’t see the driver from where he stood, but he lifted a hand in an abbreviated wave, in case it was someone he knew from church or someone he’d met in town. He watched as the car turned south on Chandler Road, disappearing from view.

  “I’m ready.”

  Liam turned in time to see Chelsea come down the porch steps, her hair now in a familiar ponytail, her feet encased in lemon-yellow sneakers. She looked adorable. How could his mood help but improve at the sight of her?

  As soon as she reached him, they set off in the direction of the old mansion site. But they didn’t pause on the bridge or make note of the property Liam now owned. Chelsea seemed content to wait for him to speak first. He didn’t do so until they’d left Chickadee Creek behind and were following a trail deeper into the forest. Pine needles crunched beneath their feet. Chipper took off after some woodland creature. The tap-tap-tap of a woodpecker carried to them through the trees.

  “I went to see my mom today because I thought she was having an affair.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Chelsea look at him. “Turns out I was both right and wrong.”

  Chipper ran back to them, tongue lolling from one side of his mouth. The dog circled them twice, then took off into the trees once again.

  “She told me she had an affair over thirty years ago. And it turns out my brother Jacob was the son of her lover, not my dad.”

  Chelsea sucked in a breath of air, soft but still audible.

  “Jacob was her favorite son. Now I sort of understand why. It wasn’t because he was better than me—although he was. He definitely was. But I think she favored him because she knew my dad wouldn’t.”

  “He knew? Your dad knew.”

  “Yeah. She says he did. I haven’t talked to him yet. Dad loved Jacob. I’m sure of that. I don’t think he favored either one of us. We were his kids. But maybe . . . Well, maybe I just couldn’t tell. He was gone a lot, working. Maybe that’s why I never saw any difference between the way he treated us or felt about us.”

  “How did you leave things with your mother?”

  He huffed out a breath. “Not good. She needs me to forgive her. I’m not feeling it.”

  “Do you have to feel it?”

  He stopped walking, challenged by her soft question. “No. Forgiveness is a decision, not a feeling.” He looked up at the sky through the tall pines, the treetops swaying gently in an indiscernible breeze. “It’s an act of obedience.”

  “Then you’ll find a way to forgive her.”

  He met her gaze. “I’m not so sure. The more I think about it, the less able I feel to do . . . what’s right.”

  “Liam.” She touched his arm with her fingertips. “You can. I know you can. God will help you.”

  Nobody except Jacob would have understood all that he felt, all that he wrestled with and why. Nobody except Jacob . . . until now. Chelsea understood without him explaining. Most of the people he’d hung out with during his years in LA wouldn’t understand. Oh, they might say the right things, but they wouldn’t understand the part his faith played in the way he wanted to live his life. Chelsea did.

  Throat tight with emotion, he managed to say, “Thanks.”

  She took a step closer, moving into an embrace he didn’t know he needed. Her cheek rested against his chest, her head fitting nicely beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and drew in the faint scent of her shampoo. Fruity. Watermelon? He wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter. His arms tightened around her, pulling her even closer, until he couldn’t tell where he left off and she began.

  I can’t believe I found you. He didn’t so much think the words in his mind as he felt them in his heart, and he knew in that moment that he didn’t want to go through anything in life without Chelsea by his side.

  * * *

  Never before had Chelsea felt as safe and secure as she felt in that moment. She had embraced Liam because she wanted to encourage him, to offer him hope. But in his arms, she discovered he’d done as much for her. Her emotions soared. Miraculously, her heart was in tune with his. She couldn’t say how she knew this. Only that she did.

  “We ought to start back,” he said, his breath tickling her scalp.

  She drew her head back so she could look into his eyes. “Yes. I suppose we should.”

  He took a step away, his hands sliding from her back to lightly grip her upper arms. “Chipper,” he called. “Come on, boy.”

  It took a minute or so, but finally the dog bounded out of the forest. His black nose was covered with dirt, and a pine cone clung to the long hairs of his tail. But if a dog could smile, that’s what he did.

  Liam and Chelsea laughed in unison, and as they turned to follow the trail back toward town, they joined hands, as naturally as if they’d been doing it all of their lives.

  “I’ll call Mom when I get home,” Liam said after a lengthy silence. “And Dad too.”

  She squeezed his hand.

  They strolled onward, his stride shortening to match hers. Another thing to love about him. From childhood on, she’d felt it was her duty to keep up. And when she failed, was it any wonder she was punished for it?

  She remembered, after she became a Christian, reading a verse in Ephesians about husbands loving their wives as much as Christ loved the church. Loving their wives so much they would die for them. Impossible, she’d thought. No man loved a woman enough to do that. But in this moment, she started to believe it might be possible after all.

  Suddenly, Chipper tore away from them, barking not in play but as if in anger or warning. Liam stopped to stare up the hillside where the dog had disappeared through the trees.

  “Chipper, get back here.”

  “What do you suppose he heard?”

  “I don’t know. I hope it isn’t a bear. Not sure Chipper would have enough sense to keep away from it.”

  “A bear?” She inched a little closer to him.

  “Or a skunk,” Liam added, a hint of laughter in his voice.

  She wrinkled her nose at the mere suggestion. Then, from a distance, she heard a man’s voice shout something. Seconds later, the sound of an engine reached them. A cloud of dust rose from the ridge as the unseen vehicle drove away.

  Liam began to scramble up the hillside. “Chipper.” He stopped when the dog came into view. “Come here, boy. Come on.” He turned and came down the short distance, Chipper at his heels. “I guess whoever it was didn’t like dogs.”

  “And the dog didn’t like him.” She glanced toward the ridge line, familiar anxiety winding through her. “Someone was watching us.”

  “Maybe a miner wannabe. The road up there dead
-ends at the location of the old dredger.”

  She wanted his words to soothe her jangled nerves. She hated the idea of being spied upon.

  “At least I don’t have to worry about paparazzi out here.”

  “Paparazzi?” The idea of who might see such a picture of her with Liam poured ice into her veins and brought fear roaring to the surface.

  “Relax. Nobody knows I’m here.”

  “They might. Your agent’s been up to Chickadee Creek twice already.” The words tumbled from her mouth, her voice rising with anxiety. “And . . . your new director flew up to Idaho last week. Somebody knows where they came.”

  A picture of her with Liam. In a newspaper. In a fan magazine. Would they know her name or call her a mystery woman? Would the photo be clear or grainy? What would Tom do if he saw it?

  Liam gave her a confused look. The last thing she wanted to do was admit the direction of her thoughts. But she didn’t have to. Understanding suddenly filled his eyes.

  He took hold of her hand again. “Nobody knows I’m in Chickadee Creek, and nobody knows you’re here either. You’re safe with me.” He drew her close and embraced her. “I’ll keep you safe always.”

  She wanted to believe him, but something in her heart remained on alert.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’d better get you home.”

  She drew back from him, determined to sound normal and happy. “I almost forgot. Aunt Rosemary said she was going to make a breakfast casserole while we took our walk. She’s hoping you’ll come in and have some when we get back.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Drawing back, grinning widely, he said, “Well, let’s not keep her waiting any longer.”

  As they set off again, Chelsea’s gaze went to the ridge one last time, and she prayed that no paparazzi had followed Liam to Chickadee Creek. Both for his sake and for hers.

  Liam's Journal

  I’ve discovered something. Who Jacob’s natural father was means nothing to me. He wasn’t my half brother. He was my brother. Fully. To the core. My whole brother. Shared DNA. Shared hearts. We were the real deal, no matter what any kind of blood test would tell you.

  As for Mom and Dad, there’s a lot I’ve got to work through in my head. It’ll take more than one conversation with each of them to get their relationship with me back where it ought to be. I don’t think it’ll be easy, but I have faith that we’ll get there, in time. I’ve got to have faith, and I’m willing to do the work.

  As for what happens between the two of them, that’s not up to me. I’ll have to leave it in God’s hands.

  I can’t help but think what Jacob would say about all of this. He’d tell me that God still formed him and knew him from the very start. He’d say that Mom might have been surprised by the pregnancy, but God wasn’t. I’m sure he’d have to work through his emotions, like I’m having to do, but he always seemed to do a better job of it. He always seemed to know who he was: a man made in the image of God.

  Can’t decide if I’m glad Jacob never knew about Mom’s affair. And I wonder if we find out stuff like that once we’re in heaven. The Bible says there aren’t any tears or sorrow there. Would knowing Dad wasn’t his dad make Jacob sad?

  I guess saying “dysfunctional family” is actually redundant. Isn’t every family dysfunctional in its own way?

  Liam's Journal

  My character’s name is Rafe Jones, husband to Maggie and father to Jimmy and Laurel. The film isn’t titled yet. They’re still deciding. While inspired by a book, it doesn’t follow the same story, so it’s unlikely they’ll want to use that title.

  They’ll have a finished script any day now. I’m eager to get my hands on it. I’m more excited about this than any movie I’ve done before.

  Jacob was right. Again.

  Chapter 22

  Liam sat in a row of seats in the Boise airport, iPhone in hand. He’d checked both messages and e-mails already, but there hadn’t been anything needing his attention. He could send a text to Chelsea, asking how Chipper was doing without him, but he knew his dog was fine. Chipper loved Chelsea.

  For the past week, Liam, accompanied by his dog, had spent many hours every day with her. They’d taken more walks. They’d sorted through stacks of books and old papers, looking for more history about Chickadee Creek and the Chandler family. Liam had a growing interest in the dredge mining Preston Chandler had pursued before the turn of the century, while Chelsea only seemed to care about Cora and her music. They’d talked about many things—important things and inconsequential things. They’d covered favorite books, favorite music, and favorite movies. They’d talked more about their families. They’d talked about his upcoming role. He already knew Chelsea Spencer better than he knew anyone other than his brother.

  He smiled, remembering last night. He’d gone to her great-aunt’s house for dinner, and then he and Chelsea had settled onto the sofa to watch a DVD. Since they were alone—Rosemary had said she wanted an early night—they’d done more kissing than watching, truth be told.

  Intruding on that pleasant memory, the announcement came for first-class boarding to begin. Liam hoped his stupid grin didn’t give away his thoughts as he rose to join the other passengers.

  The nonstop flight to LAX would take just over two hours. Kurt had said he would meet Liam at the airport, and they would go together to the offices of Grayson Wentworth. The contract would be signed, then they would have lunch, discuss more details for the shoot that would begin at the end of September. After that, Kurt would drop Liam at the airport for his return flight. By the time he drove to Chickadee Creek, it would be late. But not so late he couldn’t stop to get his dog and kiss his girl.

  His grin widened at that thought.

  On the plane, he shoved his carry-on into the overhead compartment, then stepped into his seat next to the window. He fastened his safety belt before popping his AirPods into his ears. With his phone set to airplane mode, he hit Play on some music and closed his eyes. With any luck, he would think about Chelsea all the way to Los Angeles.

  * * *

  Laughter erupted upstairs where several teenage girls perused books on the shelves.

  “Do you need any help up there?” Chelsea called to them in a slightly raised voice.

  All three turned to look over the railing.

  “No, thanks,” one of them answered.

  “They’re not buyers,” Aunt Rosemary said softly. “They’re just looking for entertainment before they go back to school next week.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Why don’t you take Chipper for a walk?” her great-aunt suggested.

  “But you might need—”

  “Go on. You need to stretch your legs, and so does the dog. Besides, it’ll burn up some time before Liam gets back.”

  Aunt Rosemary knew her much too well.

  Chelsea looked at the clock on the wall of the antique store. Liam must be eating lunch with his director and agent about now. Strange how much she missed him. Perhaps it was knowing he was in another state that made it feel like ages since they’d been together. Or perhaps it was knowing he was in Los Angeles where he’d lived for many years and still owned a house. Would he suddenly realize that he wanted to live there again?

  She smiled. No, he wouldn’t.

  Her confidence brought with it a burst of joy. For too much of her life, she’d acted out of insecurity and uncertainty. But the past week with Liam had given her a new confidence in every area of her life.

  “I’m not afraid,” she whispered to herself.

  She thought of the cellar in the shed on the old mansion property. She’d refused to go near it not that long ago. Today she felt brave enough. If Liam were with her now, she would have gone down those concrete steps and looked inside, just to prove it.

  At the door to the shop, Chelsea looked back at her great-aunt. “We won’t be long.”

  “Take your time, dear. I can handle this rush of customers.” As she said it, she glanced tow
ard the girls on the floor above.

  Chelsea laughed as she closed the door behind her. Chipper walked at her side, head tipped up, watching for a command. Chelsea didn’t set him free until they were across the bridge on Chandler Road.

  Watching the dog run from one side of the road to the other, she took several deep breaths of air, enjoying the milder weather that had arrived this week. While still August, the temperature that morning had been in the low fifties. The cooler air promised the coming of fall, although the next season was still a full month away.

  Up ahead, a deer with two fawns darted across the trail. Chipper was about to give chase but stopped when Chelsea spoke his name in a firm tone. The dog looked back at her with pleading eyes.

  “No. You leave the deer alone.”

  Chipper hung his head, and his tail drooped too.

  Chelsea laughed. “Did you take acting lessons from Liam?”

  The dog’s ears perked up, as if recognizing his master’s name.

  Smiling as she imagined Liam training the dog to look disappointed, Chelsea walked on. Her thoughts drifted to other walks along this trail. Walks with Liam by her side. Walks when he’d held her hand, and she’d known how deeply he cared for her. There was an honesty about him. There was—

  “Hello, Chelsea.”

  Startled from her reverie, she whirled toward the voice.

  There stood Tom Goodson, his expression grim, his eyes hard.

  “What . . . What are you doing here?”

  “What do you think? I came looking for you. You should know you can’t hide from me.”

  She drew a breath, trying to steady her nerves. “I wasn’t hiding.” Not entirely the truth. “And there is nothing more that we have to say to each other.”

  “You’re wrong about that. I have plenty to say to you, you cheating little—”

  Unexpectedly, Chipper lunged at Tom, but Tom was ready for him. He had a tire iron in his right hand—something Chelsea hadn’t noticed before—and he swung it at the dog. Chipper’s yelp split the air as he was knocked off the trail and down a hillside.