Kissing Books

by Cat Johnson

  She moved to the bag on the kitchen table. “Yeah. Agnes said I could borrow these. Plot bunnies.” She smiled, but it seemed devoid of humor. She drew in a breath. “But I wish I could have found that will for Joe.”

  “You get through them all?” I asked, very aware of how many books there were.

  “Yeah. Between Red, Bethany and me we at least flipped through every book. Even if we didn’t actually get to read every page, there was no will shoved inside.”

  “That’s too bad.” I was being sincere. I knew how much she’d wanted to find that will.

  “Yeah.” She hung her head before bringing it up to look at Agnes. “I guess that’s it then.”

  God. She was leaving right this minute? I was going to have to endure watching her drive away?

  “You have everything?” Agnes asked.

  “My suitcase is in the car. I checked and made sure I grabbed all my chargers and stuff from the bathroom.” She flipped the long leather handle from the big bag she’d stashed the books in over her shoulder. “Just my purse and my laptop case left and then that’s it.”

  “Here. Don’t forget the cookies Bethany brought over for you to nibble on during the drive.” Agnes handed her a small white paper bag.

  “I’ll definitely lose weight not being around Bethany so much.” Harper smiled but again it looked sad.

  “You could stay, you know. As long as you want to,” Agnes said.

  My hopes lifted as Harper looked from Agnes, to me, then back again. “Thanks, but I really should be getting back home.”

  “I understand. Just remember the invitation is always open.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Agnes.” Harper enveloped Agnes in a hug and then turned to me.

  Crap. I knew what I wanted to do. Tangle my hand in her hair, kiss her silly and make her change her mind.

  What I did instead was open the back door and say, “I’ll walk you to the car.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Bye, girl.” I bent down to pet Petunia before I followed Harper out.

  Fucking Cash. It was his fault that I was here to have to witness the one woman I’d had any feelings for in a really long time, maybe in forever, drive away from me.

  But how could I ask her to stay? This was Mudville. Population one-thousand and twelve. A best selling author with fifty-thousand followers on Instagram didn’t belong in a town that had more cows than people. I wasn’t going to be the one to ask her to stay.

  I ran ahead and opened the car door for her. She swung her laptop case onto the passenger seat and then stood there awkwardly, staring at me.

  “So have a safe drive.” Gah! I sounded like her father.

  But what could I say? It was nice getting to know you. Nice having sex with you too. Maybe we could do it again some time. No.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  She hesitated and for a second I thought she was going to say something more. Maybe even kiss me goodbye.

  But the moment passed and she folded those gorgeous legs into the car and flipped the skirt of her dress in so it wouldn’t get caught in the door.

  I was still holding onto the frame of the driver’s side door even as she put the key in the ignition. If that wasn’t a clue I should give up, I didn’t know what was. I slammed the door. She started the ignition and still I stood there.

  She rolled the window down and glanced up at me. “Bye.”

  “Bye.” I said, and finally took a step back so she could turn around to pull out of the driveway.

  Then the woman I’d spent more hours thinking about these past couple of weeks than anything else in my life drove away without looking back. I knew that because I stood there until the very end and watched her go.

  From the Journal of Rose Van de Berg

  MUDVILLE INQUISITOR

  1999

  Former First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton visited Mudville as part of a “Listening Tour” for her bid for Senate. She met with local farmers at a gathering hosted at Morgan Farm.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Harper

  Red and Bethany were having Thanksgiving with Aunt Agnes. When my great aunt wasn’t traveling for the holiday, she hosted anyone in Mudville who didn’t have other plans.

  Apparently it was quite a cast of characters who showed up. I could picture it. Thanksgiving dinner in Agnes’s dining room would be incredible—and I would have given anything to be there.

  But it had been two months since I’d been gone. And two months that I hadn’t heard a word from Stone. Not a text. Not a call.

  He’d come to say goodbye but he hadn’t given me a reason to stay. And I’d been looking and listening for one.

  Anything, any gesture on his part and I would have delayed my departure. But he gave me nothing.

  Petunia had gotten a warmer goodbye from Stone than I had.

  “So I found some pictures.” My mother walked in and interrupted my thoughts.

  That was for the better. They were shitty thoughts.

  “Pictures of what?” I asked, grateful for any distraction at this point.

  “You. In Mudville,” my mother answered.

  I frowned. Was she talking about the pictures on my Instagram? I wouldn’t be surprised if she were. She stalked all my social media.

  But when she walked over to the side cabinet and pulled out an old shoebox I realized she was talking about real pictures. Like old school photographs of the non-digital variety.

  I sat up a little straighter. “Really?”

  “I told you we brought you for a visit when you were three. Remember?”

  Leave it to my Mom to have twenty-seven year old photos. But I was glad. I’d never make fun of her for holding on to everything again.

  She put the box on my lap and I pulled off the lid.

  Faded old colored pictures greeted me.

  Myself as a newborn, sporting a shocking amount of thick dark hair. My mom and dad, looking so young. A few birthday parties from years that I sat on my mother’s lap while she blew out the candles because I was too little to do it alone.

  As I flipped through the photos, the years progressed. Mom actually had them pretty much in chronological order. There was a method to her madness.

  I got to a grouping of pictures that were decidedly more rural, and though it had changed a bit over the years I started to recognize Mudville landmarks.

  A cornfield maze stopped my flipping . . .

  Was it Morgan Farms? Was a young Stone there at the same time I was?

  What if we had met way back then? It was a mind-boggling thought.

  I flipped further and there I was sitting in a pen surrounded by piglets. Adorable mini Petunias.

  “Where was this?” I held up the photo.

  “At the weekly auction in town.”

  “And you just put me in with the pigs?” I laughed.

  My mother shrugged. “You wanted to go in there. You were in with the calves too.”

  I picked up the picture to look closer at the young girl laughing back at me, careless of the dirt that no doubt would have covered my little jeans and sneakers. Maybe I had been destined to be Petunia’s caretaker from the start.

  Seeing these made my heart hurt.

  I missed Mudville. Everything and everybody in it.

  I glanced up. “Mom, I’ve got to go.”

  “What? What do you mean, go? We haven’t even had dessert yet.”

  “I know. But there’s someplace I need to be.” I stood, box still in my hand. “Can I borrow these?”

  “Sure. Keep them.”

  “Thanks.” I ran for the door, grabbing my coat and purse from the hook on the wall along the way.

  “But where are you going?” she asked, following me.

  I couldn’t lie, though it was tempting because I knew my answer was going to cause a problem.

  “Agnes’s,” I said and yanked open the door before she could argue.

  I glanced between my shocked mother and my father, half asleep in his chai
r from a turkey coma.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” I called back, and then pulled the door closed and sprinted for the car.

  Thank God we always ate Thanksgiving super early at my parents’ house. It was only two-thirty now. We’d just finished eating and had sat down in the living room to digest the turkey and watch TV when my mother had brought out the box of photos that were currently riding shotgun in my passenger seat.

  If I could get to my place, throw some clothes in a bag and get on the road by three, I could be at Agnes’s by six.

  Dinner at her house was being served at five. I’d been invited but declined because I knew I had to eat at my parents’.

  I’d miss dinner in Mudville, which was fine. I’d already had my annual fill of turkey and stuffing. But I’d make it in time to see everyone and that’s all I really cared about.

  Dessert and a glass of wine on Thanksgiving in Agnes’s gorgeous dinning room surrounded by friends sounded like heaven.

  That thought had me driving faster.

  I sped the three hours, clutching the steering wheel in anticipation, my pulse racing as the miles in front of me decreased.

  Even the audiobook I tried listening to couldn’t hold my attention as I neared my destination.

  When I saw the sign for the Mudville exit on the highway, my chest tightened.

  Two more miles and I’d be pulling into her driveway. A few minutes and I’d be walking through the back door.

  Why was my heart pounding like I’d run a marathon? Stone wouldn’t be there at Agnes’s. He had a huge family he’d be spending the holiday with. Which was better, actually, since I hadn’t heard from him since I’d left.

  Two months was a long time. He was probably hooking up with somebody else by now. I had no delusions that just because the man didn’t date one person seriously or long term that he went without sex. But God I hoped he wasn’t with somebody else.

  The sight of the house grabbed my attention as I slowed and turned into the driveway. I parked in back and let myself in through the unlocked back door, surprising Bethany in the kitchen.

  Her mouth dropped open and I pressed one finger to my lips to silence her.

  Moving closer I gave her a hug and whispered, “I want to surprise everybody.”

  She tipped her head toward the dining room and mouthed, “Everyone’s in there.”

  I nodded, dropped my purse on the table and stepped through the door between the kitchen and the dining room.

  It looked as amazing as I’d imagined. The big old table was fully extended to accommodate the dozen matching chairs. Candles were lit around the room and a fire blazed in the hearth, bouncing light off Agnes’s silver collection displayed on the mantle.

  “Harper. You came!” Red jumped up from her chair and rushed to me. “Give me a hug, stranger.” She delivered the promised hug and then smacked my arm, frowning. “You’ve been gone too long.”

  “I agree.” Agnes moved to where I stood, having risen from her seat at the table a little more slowly than Red had.

  I noticed she was out of the cast and walking without a cane. “Aunt Agnes. I hope you don’t mind me coming.”

  “Of course not. Sweetie, you know you’re welcome. I was hoping you’d be able to make it after all. I love a full house at the holidays. Or anytime of year, really.”

  “I hope you mean that, because I have a suitcase in the car.” I cringed at my own presumption. “I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t mind if I stayed for awhile.”

  “Yes. Stay for Christmas,” Red said, bouncing up and down in her gold sneakers that set off her turkey sweater nicely.

  “Never mind Christmas.” Agnes waved away that suggestion. “You have to stay for New Year’s Eve. Now that’s when this old house really shines.”

  “Oh my God. She’s so right. You have to stay.” Red nodded.

  Bethany came out of the dining room, a stack of dessert dishes in her hand, and said, “I agree. You haven’t lived until you’ve been to one of Agnes’s New Year’s bashes.”

  Red leaned close. “I could barely walk home after the last one. I think somebody ended up walking me across the street.” She’d kept her voice low so the handful of people still seated at the table wouldn’t hear.

  I recognized Dee Flanders and Mary Brimley. There were a few more who I didn’t recognize. I’d have to eventually greet those I knew and meet those I didn’t. But after three hours on the road I was happy to let myself be a little anti-social and catch up with my friends and family.

  The sound of the front doorbell was achingly familiar, reminding me of when I called this old house home for a couple of weeks. How many times had I heard it during my short time here?

  “It seems we have more company.” Agnes turned to me, smiling sweetly. “Harper, would you mind getting that for me?”

  “Not at all.” Happy to be of help since I had kind of dropped in unannounced, I spun toward the door that would lead me from the dining room to the front hall. But I didn’t miss the strange glance that passed between Agnes and Red or the smirk on Bethany’s face.

  I didn’t have time to ponder it for too long. The double front doors had big windows and standing there on the other side of them was the unmistakably outline of Stone.

  My breath fled along with my composure as I stumbled to a stop. I finally got my head on straight and rushed to the door, my heart pounding and my hands shaking as I reached for the knob.

  My girl gang must have known Stone was coming. Was Agnes playing matchmaker? More importantly, would it help? I guess I’d find out.

  I remembered all my tricks to get the doors open, but it seemed I’d lost control of my hands so it wasn’t as easy as it should have been.

  Finally, I pulled the doors open and there was Stone, looking as shocked as I was, a cardboard box filled with two pies held in his hands.

  “You’re here,” he breathed.

  “So are you,” I said, breathless myself as I took a step back to let him in out of the cold.

  I managed to close the door without too much hassle, but whether I’d locked it or not, I had no clue. It seemed my brain stopped working around Stone too.

  As if he’d just remembered the big brown box in his hands, Stone said, “Mom sent these over for Agnes since she always has a crowd.”

  “That’s nice,” I said, glancing down at them before looking back up at Stone.

  He was as handsome as ever, bundled up in a red plaid jacket with a gray wool hat pulled over his head.

  His gaze met and held mine. “That’s not the whole truth. I’m not here just to deliver pies. In fact, Mom asked Boone to drop them off, but I jumped in and said I’d do it.”

  “Why?” I asked, afraid to assume he was saying what I wanted him to be saying.

  “I didn’t dare get my hopes up too high that you’d be here. I figured I would have heard if you were in town. But I thought maybe Agnes or Red would have some news about you. I came over just hoping to hear how you were doing.”

  He set the box with the pies down on the hall table and turned back to me. The sincerity in his gaze had my heart fluttering. When he reached out and gripped my shoulders my knees went weak.

  “I miss you, Harper.”

  Fighting back the mist in my eyes, I asked, “Then why didn’t you text or call?”

  “I figured you were really busy . . . since you didn’t call or text me either.” He tipped his head to one side and lifted a shoulder.

  It seemed we were both waiting on the other.

  “I thought you were mad at me,” I confessed.

  “Why would I be mad at you?” He frowned.

  “The train depot.”

  “What about the train depot?”

  “Cash didn’t tell you?” I asked, surprised.

  “No.” His brows drew lower. So did his tone. “Tell me what?”

  “It’s my fault it sold. I posted a picture of it on my Instagram and that’s where the buyer first saw the building.”

&
nbsp; He shook his head. “Harper, I wouldn’t blame you for that.”

  “I thought you did.”

  “Well, you should have just asked me about it. Hell. I know you post everything on there. The chickens. Petunia. Your coffee mug. I saw the pictures of the depot. I didn’t think anything of it.”

  “You have Instagram?” I asked. Even with as much as this long overdue discussion was fraught with emotions, the thought of Stone on Instagram still elicited a burst of a laugh.

  “Shalene was posting on the farm stand’s account and I asked her to show me yours.”

  “Ah, that makes more sense.” I forced a sad smile in spite of all the months of wasted time and sleepless nights I’d brought on myself.

  A hell of a pair we were. This whole misunderstanding between us was because we didn’t talk to each other. A little communication would have prevented months of agony for me.

  And now what? Now that the start of winter was nearing, were we too far past that magical time we’d shared during the final days of summer?

  “So, how long are you staying for?” he asked, taking a step closer.

  “I don’t know. It’s kind of open ended. I did throw a lot of clothes in my suitcase. And there’s always Red’s if I need more.” I raised my gaze to his, letting the hope bloom in my chest like Aunt Agnes’s flower-laden Christmas cactus on the plant stand in the hall next to me. “Could be a long while. Maybe even through the new year.”

  His chest rose and fell with the breath he took in and let out as his gaze dropped to my lips then came back up to my eyes. “That sounds good. Agnes’s New Year’s Eve parties are legendary.”

  “Jeepers. Just kiss her already.” Agnes’s voice behind me had me laughing.

  Stone too. He raised his gaze over my head to glance at her. “I was trying to be polite.”

  “Screw polite. If somebody doesn’t give you two a shove in the right direction, you’re just going to keep getting in your own way.”

  Red chuckled at Agnes statement, which I couldn’t argue with since it was pretty accurate.

  I gazed up at Stone. “I guess we better do what she says. She’s the boss around here.”