by Liz Johnson
There was an irrefutable kindness in Mayor Hayden’s eyes. But Jonah’s heart pinched at the thought of the disappointment coming Rowan’s way. All week she’d planned and strategized and worked on her event. It was exactly as the mayor said—she was putting all her hope into it.
And the mayor was all but admitting she didn’t have a chance. A chugging wind whipped through the striped awning overhead. “Are you sure there’s no possibility the council will reverse course?”
“It’s not financially feasible. Surely you understand. We’ll be much better off selling the house to someone who has the funds to renovate. Meanwhile, we have an empty building that’s in wonderful shape. You should know. I hear you’ve seen it.”
The man chortled and Jonah almost laughed too. Almost. But Brick’s rebuff still badgered him, along with worry over Geordie, Concordia . . . Rowan.
Rowan. He should stop at the library. Maybe she hadn’t left for church yet.
“Jonah?” The mayor had paused a couple steps behind him. “You haven’t answered. Will you talk to her?”
Maybe Mayor Hayden was right. Maybe it was the kind thing to do to prepare her for what was coming. Maybe she’d take it better from him. “I can’t make any promises, but . . . we’ll see.”
The mayor nodded and started in the opposite direction. Jonah picked up his pace, his scarf flapping about him as he hurried the three blocks to the library.
When the building came into sight, he slowed, his first real grin of the day finding its way free at the sight of Rowan locking the front door.
“I guess there won’t be any trespassing for me today,” he called across the distance, his boots slapping against the sidewalk as he moved toward her.
She turned, springing down the cement stairs, landing on the brick walkway just as he reached her. Dazzling sunlight turned her blue eyes even bluer and her laugh melted away the last of his morning’s frustration. “Well, except now I know you can pick locks.”
He stopped in front of her. She wore that silly knit beret again and it flopped to the side like usual. “Going to church?”
She nodded. “What are you up to?”
“I . . . well . . . I don’t exactly . . .” Dash it all, what was wrong with him? “Here,” he blurted, thrusting the bakery bag and his coffee cup toward her. He never had taken a second drink.
She took the bag with a confused look in her eyes, opened it up, glanced inside. Though he still held the cup, she took off its lid, then looked up at Jonah, one eyebrow slanting upward. “I load my coffee with creamer. You know that. And this”—she held up the bag—“is your favorite. Why are you trying to give me your breakfast, Jonah?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Can I go to church with you, Row?”
Her smile was sweeter than any pastry that bakery had to offer. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You have to come to Sunday dinner, too.”
“Why don’t you wear a crown? I thought kings had crowns?”
From across the table and one seat down, Rowan watched as Jonah’s eyes twinkled in response to eleven-year-old Olivia’s question. The youngest of Rowan’s stepsiblings, Olivia hadn’t stopped staring at Jonah since he walked in the door.
Nor had Conner or Jade or even Brandon, the oldest at seventeen, all of whom had crowded into the seats around Jonah before Rowan could claim the chair next to him. Even Mom and Eddie seemed almost helplessly in awe.
She couldn’t blame a one of them. Jonah had spent half the meal regaling them with stories of growing up in a palace, traveling the world, learning to shoot a bow and arrow before he was even four years old. His rich, walnut eyes lit up as he talked.
A change from earlier this morning. Though he’d smiled and laughed and joked with her on the way to church, she’d gotten the feeling something was bothering him. But whatever it was seemed to have disappeared now. And there was only his deep, melodic voice and the warmth in each glance he sent her way.
“We do wear crowns sometimes,” he answered Olivia as he helped her refill her glass of milk. “But usually only for special occasions. Which I’m glad of considering how heavy my crown is.”
“Is it gold? Does it have jewels? Did you bring it to Tinsel with you?”
“Olivia, let the poor man eat,” Rowan cut in. He’d barely had a chance to cut into his baked potato.
“He’s not a poor man,” Olivia said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s a king. That means he’s rich.”
“Olivia!” Mom’s scold came on the heels of Jonah’s sputter of barely contained laughter. He met Rowan’s gaze, pure delight nestled in his expression. The wind had tousled his hair earlier and he’d never bothered to smooth it down. It might give him a boyish look if the rest of him wasn’t so undeniably masculine.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Rowan started at fifteen-year-old Jade’s whispered question beside her. “What? No, of course not. And quiet, he’ll hear you.”
“Not with Olivia pestering him, he won’t. Do you want him to be your boyfriend?”
“Jade—”
“Well, you keep staring at him.”
“I do not.”
“You brought him to Sunday dinner.”
“So?”
Jade gave an overly innocent shrug. “Brandon brought Cecilia Minor to dinner last week. That officially makes it a thing.”
“Brandon has a girlfriend?” Shy, quiet Brandon?
“You’d know that if you ever showed up anymore.”
Rowan’s gaze roamed from Brandon to Conner, nearly a mirror image of his older brother, both towheaded and gangly. Olivia and Jade, by contrast, had red hair that matched Eddie’s.
Framed photos of all four kids adorned the wall behind Jonah, alongside pictures of Rowan. But where there used to be a wedding portrait of Mom and Dad, the wall was blank other than the faint shadow of darker paint where the sun hadn’t had as many years to fade the color.
This house—it never failed to conjure such a clash of emotions.
Rowan blinked, pulled her focus from the empty place on the wall, only to find Eddie watching her.
“Why did you abdicate?”
Rowan’s attention jerked across the table at the question, this one from Conner. It was the question she’d wanted to ask Jonah over and over, but the few times she’d broached the subject in those early days, he’d deftly avoided it. She’d finally accepted that it was off-limits and hadn’t made another attempt.
And yet, Jonah seemed to be considering Conner’s candid, unassuming question. Finally, he opened his mouth. “I abdicated because I believed it was the best thing for my country. I’d been struggling for some time, you see. Not sleeping. Unable to pay attention in meetings or make important decisions. My country deserves a king who is at his best. Or, at least, not at his worst.”
Everyone around the table was quiet for a moment. Rowan wished she were sitting by Jonah. Wished she could take hold of his hand and give it a squeeze of assurance. As it was, all she could do was will him to lift his gaze to her, hope he could read the encouragement in her eyes.
But when he did look at her, when she saw the layers of anguish and frustration and—guilt?—in his eyes, she knew there was more he hadn’t said.
“Are you sleeping better now?” Olivia piped in.
Jonah blinked. “Like a baby.”
Silence fell once more, until finally Mom clinked her fork on her glass. “I think it’s time we share our news. We’ve been waiting for too long already. I’m surprised we haven’t been found out by now.”
Rowan’s attention moved to Mom, her fingers tightening around her fork. “Found out?”
Mom stood, tugging Eddie up beside her. “Kids, we have news. Brace yourselves. It’s a little shocking. I about passed out when the doctor told me.”
Doctor? A thread of alarm wove through Rowan. But before it could form a knot, Eddie spoke up.
&nbs
p; “Actually I think I did black out for a moment. It’s all kind of hazy.”
“Uh, guys, you’re kind of scaring me,” Jade said, straightening in her chair.
“Oh, gosh, sorry.” Mom flattened one hand against her stomach. “It’s good news. We should’ve said that right away. The truth is, I’m . . . I’m pregnant.”
Rowan’s fork clattered on her plate.
“I had a feeling I’d find you up here.”
Her stepfather’s voice carried across the cool, musty air of the attic. Rowan twisted in Dad’s old recliner to look to where Eddie stood on the second-to-last step leading into the dim space. “Is it halftime already?”
Eddie moved across the crowded attic, skirting boxes and old furniture, until he stood in front of Rowan.
After the initial chaos of excitement had settled following Mom and Eddie’s news, everyone had moved into the den with bowls of ice cream. Conner and Jade had settled in front of the football game on TV. Brandon had gone off to call his girlfriend, while Olivia went back and forth between questions for Jonah and questions about the coming baby.
Another sibling. A half-sibling, this time.
“You’re happy for us, aren’t you?” Mom had whispered back in the dining room when it’d finally been Rowan’s turn to hug her.
“Of course I am.”
“I know it’s almost a little ridiculous. I’m forty-six. And how in the world we’re going to fit another human in this house, I don’t know. Eddie’s been talking about turning the attic into a bedroom, but that would mean cleaning it out. Half of what’s up there is yours, by the way. Oh, why am I rambling about space at a time like this? I’m going to have a baby.”
With happy tears in her eyes, Mom had pulled her in for a second hug before moving on to Conner.
In a daze, Rowan had congratulated Eddie then returned to her seat. But half an hour later, with everyone else distracted in the living room, she’d made her escape. Up the carpeted stairway to the second floor, through the rarely used door with the wobbly knob and the wood that always stuck unless you pulled just right.
“Not halftime,” Eddie said, leaning against a tower of crates. “But I started getting worried you and your friend would take off before I had a chance to chat with you. I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I loved that article of yours in the newspaper. Would’ve told you the other night, except I was too flustered at the time—you know, finding my stepdaughter in the middle of trespassing, meeting a king, all of that.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t told Mom about that.” If he had, Rowan would’ve heard from Mom that very night. Although whether she would’ve scolded Rowan for trespassing or skipped straight to joyfully interrogating her about Jonah, she guessed she’d never know.
“Thought I’d let you share that if you ever had a mind to.” Eddie grinned. “But seriously, that was some mighty fine writing. I’m very proud of you, Rowan.”
There was such kindness in his eyes, in his voice. Just like always. From the moment he’d become a part of Mom’s life, Eddie had opened his heart to Rowan, too.
Why couldn’t she do the same? It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried. She didn’t resent him. She didn’t dislike him. She just couldn’t seem to stop holding him at arm’s length.
“Thank you, Eddie. That’s really nice of you.” Even now, why did her words feel so paltry when she sincerely appreciated his compliment?
“You expressed yourself so well. If I didn’t already know how important that house is to you, I would know from the article.”
“It’s Grandma’s legacy. She asked me to take care of it. They were her last words, actually—a request that I take care of her legacy. I promised I would so . . .” She shrugged. “Anyway, thank you.”
He nodded. “Well, that’s what I wanted to say.” He stepped around the crates, but paused, looking back. “Rowan, you know you’re a vital part of this family, right?”
She straightened in her chair. “What? Where did that question . . . yes, I—I know that.”
“It’s just that sometimes I’m not sure you do. But you matter very much to this whole family. If there’s anything we can do to help with the library—with anything—all you ever have to do is ask.” He rubbed his chin. “I know your mom was disappointed about Thanksgiving, but whether or not you show up to every family event isn’t what’s most important to me. What’s most important to me is that you know no matter where you are, I’m here. Whatever other big changes might be happening, that won’t change.”
His heartfelt words caught her off guard. So much so that she couldn’t think of what to say in return. Not in time anyway. Because as he moved to the stairs, another set of creaking footsteps sounded.
Jonah met Eddie at the top of the stairs. “Oh, hi. I guess someone beat me to finding Rowan.”
Eddie gave Rowan one more soft smile before patting Jonah on the shoulder and descending. Jonah’s gaze roved the attic space for a moment before landing on her. “I figured if I opened enough doors, eventually I’d find your hiding spot.”
“Sorry for abandoning you. Did Olivia ever run out of questions?”
“Not quite, but I managed to peel myself away.” Jonah took Eddie’s spot in front of Rowan. “You all right?”
How to even answer that question. Mom’s news. Eddie’s unexpected thoughtfulness.
And church this morning. The message had been all about doing hard things and all she’d been able to think was that surely a hard thing was coming her way—saying goodbye to Jonah. He had a speech to give on Christmas Day in Concordia. Already his time in Tinsel was waning.
“Rowan?”
“Sorry, uh, yeah, I just . . . well, Mom mentioned the attic, needing space for another bedroom. I think she wants me to clear out my stuff.”
“I highly doubt she meant for you to come up here now and start sorting through things. The baby’s not due until spring, after all.”
He glanced around as if looking for something to sit on. At the sight of a covered tub behind him, he backed up and lowered.
But the moment he settled, the sound of cracking plastic rent the air and he spilled into the tub. The force of his weight knocked the thing over and he went tumbling with it, landing on the floor with a thud.
Laughter bubbled from Rowan as she sprang from her chair to kneel beside him. “You okay?” She could barely get the words out through her giggles.
One of Jonah’s legs was trapped by the tub. He kicked it free, shooting an exaggerated glare at Rowan. “I can’t believe you’re laughing at me. I came all the way up here just to check on you—”
“Such a trek,” she gasped between laughs, reaching for Jonah’s hand to tow him up to a sitting position.
“And this is what I get for my gallantry?”
She was shaking with laughter now. Except . . . except maybe this wasn’t laughter anymore. Her eyes stung and oh no, were there tears trailing down her cheeks? She tried to catch her breath, but her inhale almost sounded like a sob and . . . what was happening?
“Hey.” Jonah’s own laughter faded. “What’s this?” Gone was his pretend scowl, his teasing tone. “Are you crying?”
“N-no.” Her voice was a shaky blur to her own ears.
“I think maybe you are.”
He scooted onto his knees and gathered her against him. She nearly resisted, but at the feel of his cotton shirt against her face and his arms winding around her, she gave in, letting herself sink into him. His palm was warm and gentle against her hair.
“I’m s-sorry. . . I . . .”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Row. Although, if you’re crying out of worry for me after my clumsy spill just now, I promise, the only thing hurt is my dignity.”
A muffled laugh found its way through her tears. “I h-have no idea why I’m crying. It’s just . . . it’s this house. And Dad a-and Grandma. And it’s ridiculous to cry because he’s been gone for ten years now and Grandma for eight and—”
Jonah pul
led mere inches away, just far enough to look down at her. “My mum’s been gone for nearly twenty years and I still miss her every day. Grief doesn’t have an end date, Rowan.”
The understanding in his vivid gaze was almost enough to pull another sob from her lungs. “I want to be happy for Mom and Eddie. I am happy for them. But I’m also a hundred other emotions I don’t understand.”
“You’re allowed to be happy and unhappy at the same time.” He moved one hand to her face, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
His soft touch stilled her. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Since when does emotion make sense?” Another tear, another brush of his thumb. “Look at me. Every day that I’m here, I’m the most peculiar mix of happy and unhappy. I’m happy about being carefree and having time to read and meeting you. Yet I’m unhappy about how I left things in Concordia and more and more aware of my shortcomings as a leader and I’m growing increasingly worried my country won’t welcome me back come Christmas.” He took a breath. “But we aren’t talking about me.”
“I’d rather talk about you. I’ve wanted to ask so many times . . .”
“Why I abdicated.” He sighed and lowered his hand. “What I told Conner was the truth. I’ve simply been a wreck. For months.”
“Because of Adelaide? Because of losing her?”
He nodded. “And because I didn’t know how to operate without her at my side.” He looked away and she could see the decision warring on his face—to once again sidestep this conversation or soldier on.
Thankfully, he must’ve chosen the latter. Because when he spoke again, he seemed to settle in to his story. “Adelaide and I, we’d known each other our whole lives. She was my best friend. I think everyone expected us to marry eventually. When we found out Father only had a few months to live and it hit me that I’d be leading the country much sooner than I ever could’ve expected, I . . . I needed an anchor.” He looked to Rowan again, as if willing her to hear the words he was struggling to say. “I needed my friend, even if my feelings weren’t exactly, well . . . what hers were.”
