Hazel of Heber Valley (Rocky Mountain Romances Book 5)

by Annette Lyon

  “You know what I mean,” Hazel said.

  “This is about more than ... milk and cheese.” Apparently, even he couldn’t manage to say the difficult words.

  The more they talked alone after Nathan’s out-of-the-blue suggestion, the more she needed to shield herself from the possibility of falling for him again. She folded her arms again and challenged him. “Do enlighten me, oh wise dairy farmer. What are we discussing? Cottage cheese? Butter?”

  He rakes his fingers through his hair and sighed. “You’re enough to drive a sane man into an asylum, you know that?”

  “It’s a gift.” She threw him a wide, ironic smile, then said, “Jesting aside, you don’t need to worry about Coltrane.”

  “You’re wrong,” Nathan said. “I have an uneasy feeling about him. He’s bad news; I can tell.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Hazel said in exasperation. “Not that again.”

  Nathan took a small step closer before answering, but she didn’t back away; he’d grown deadly serious all of a sudden. “Something feels off about him. It’s got nothing to do with...” He sighed heavily and started again. “Nothing to do with milk and cheese. Truly.” Genuine concern seemed to emanate from him, so much so that Hazel had half a mind to throw her arms about him in an embrace, and would have if there hadn’t been the likelihood of his misinterpreting the gesture as romantic. He put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want you hurt.”

  Heavens, those eyes. They nearly melted her insides into a pool of butter.

  Nathan had the kindest, most endearing eyes. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair — what girls were supposed to want. And on the occasion she stood back and looked at him as a stranger might, she remembered how attractive he was — very. This moment was such a time. She yearned more than ever to be in his arms again. She’d never felt safer than the times she’d been in them before. Being near him, feeling loved by him, had been wonderful, and those memories were almost enough to make her want to try again.

  The wonderful moments, like the one under the fireworks, had felt intimate in a way she’d never experienced. While they had been wonderful, they’d left her feeling vulnerable, as if her very soul had become exposed and could be torn apart at any moment. Such vulnerability was downright terrifying.

  That vulnerability had combined with the reality that more often than not during the three months of their failed courtship, they hadn’t been comfortable together but rather awkward and uneasy — or, almost as bad, fighting. She’d felt entirely alone, because in her sadness, she couldn’t go to her best friend for comfort. After the sheer joy of being with him under the fireworks, she couldn’t bear to ever again have the loneliness that had preceded it.

  She couldn’t have those overwhelmingly wonderful moments without the equally horrible, lonely ones. She’d really had only one choice. How could she make Nathan understand that she was protecting them both? There was no way, not right now, in this situation. But she could at least show her appreciation for his intentions.

  “Thank you for trying to protect me,” she said. “It means so much.”

  His gaze slid back to hers. He waited hopefully, which made her stomach sink a bit.

  If she couldn’t say what he wanted to hear, she’d do the next best thing. “You need to trust that I’m a grown woman now. I can make my own decisions, and I don’t need you to stand between me and every possible threat.” She nodded westward. “And I don’t think he’s a threat.”

  For a moment, Nathan didn’t answer. He pulled a hand down his mouth and sighed again. “What do you want me to do?”

  Hazel held out her package wrapped in paper and tied with string. “How about you carry this for me? It’s enough fabric for two dresses, so it’s rather heavy for a young woman like myself.” She grinned. What would his reaction be to her attempt at levity?

  Nathan regarded her, then the package, then her again. Finally, his face softened. He rolled his eyes dramatically and took the parcel, then dropped his free arm around her shoulders. “Come along. I’ll see you home. You poor, poor young ladies and your heavy packages. Good thing I came by after all, isn’t it?” The old Nathan was back, however briefly.

  “Most definitely.” She let out a silent breath of relief then leaned her head on his shoulder, relieved at the return of their old comfortable easiness. “What ever would we do without gallant gentlemen such as yourself to carry our parcels?”

  Hazel almost went on with the ruse, almost said that if Nathan hadn’t come to the rescue, she’d have looked for a handsome stranger to swoop her onto his horse along with her load. But the throbbing vein in Nathan’s neck warned her away from the topic. For the moment, this wasn’t one she could tease him about.

  Chapter Four

  They’d had more uneasy moments in the last two years than ever before, and she hated that fact. She missed the old camaraderie with Nathan that had been torn into a million pieces like the fireworks above them the night he’d kissed her. Every time she grew hopeful that they were moving closer to their old sibling-like friendship, something like Coltrane came along, setting them back any amount of progress they’d reached before. She’d come to wonder if the two of them would ever be able to be friends again in the old way. Likely not, if Aunt Emmelyn was right. She’d declared more times than Hazel wanted to count that friendships between boys and girls couldn’t last into adulthood. A little over two years ago, she’d ominously prophesied that friends who stepped foot on the romantic bridge could never again return to the soil of friendship.

  Aunt Emmelyn tended to be overly dramatic, but in this case, she’d been absolutely correct, though Hazel continued to try to prove her wrong. The twenty-four intervening months since she kissed Nathan had proved both parts: first, that the two of them were no longer children, and that as adults, their friendship had necessarily changed from the childhood one. And second, that she’d been foolish to leave the solid ground of friendship. That ground no longer existed save in patches here and there, never in predictable places, and never permanently, no matter how much she yearned for it and tried to return to it.

  The days were already numbered for our friendship, Hazel reminded herself. Grown men and women didn’t carry on as best friends into adulthood. She glanced up at Nathan out of the corner of her eye, seeing anew how handsome every angle made him, from the slight wave in his hair to his brow, nose, lips, and chin. If she’d come upon him as a stranger, she would have likely stammered in his presence, unable to speak a coherent thought because he was so good looking.

  But she’d grown up with him, witnessed his face gradually change from the soft cheeks of a boy to the awkward, toothy grin of an adolescent, and had almost become blind to the attractive man he’d become. She noticed the reality only in times like this, when she thought on it, or when visitors came to town and commented — or fawned over him, if said visitor was a young woman falling into infatuation.

  She and Nathan would always be friendly; she had no fear of that ending. Yet inevitably, the day would come when he found a wife, and she a husband. And then everything would change. She would no longer have the chum, the companion, and the comfort he’d been for as long as she could recall. Granted, she’d already lost some of that, something she regretted every day, wishing she could undo the events of Pioneer day ’95. At the same time, she wouldn’t give up the memory of his kiss, either. The touch of his mouth against hers had transformed her. Before, she’d been a girl. When their lips parted, she was a woman, a fact that had thrilled and terrified her in equal measure.

  Had she not run from him after their kiss, she would have kissed him again, and then... what? The relationship wouldn’t have lasted, and they would have ended up as near enemies.

  We’ll be separated by decorum and prudence soon enough, she thought. At least I have some part of the old Nathan.

  He still had his arm draped around her shoulders; the weight and warmth were soothing and familiar. Her house wasn’t far, so she
opted to savor the moment while she had it. On impulse, she slipped her arm around his waist, still leaning her head on his shoulder. In response, Nathan squeezed her shoulder in a partial hug, then placed a quick peck on the crown of her head. A brother might have done the same, yet the warmth of the little kiss spread from her crown to her toes. This time, she didn’t fight it.

  Suddenly, a voice from behind carried to them.

  “You’re going the wrong way!” It was Peter.

  Nathan’s step came up short. He didn’t turn around or answer. Instead, he purposefully resumed their walk.

  Peter, however, had other ideas. “The sparkin’ swing is back here,” he called, laughter in his voice. “I’ll vacate it right away for you two lovebirds.”

  Nathan’s fingers tightened on her shoulder to the point that she almost yelped. His jaw tensed at his brother’s public teasing. Not laughing along with Peter took every ounce of self-control Hazel possessed. On the other hand, Nathan’s step came up short, and every inch of him bristled. She bit her lips together, holding back the grin trying to force its way out.

  “Come back!” Peter called. And then sang a note. “Oooooh....”

  “Oh, no,” Nathan said. “Let’s hurry.”

  Hazel deliberately slowed her step. Her torso began shaking as she tried to hold back her laughter. Sure enough, Peter began singing. Loudly.

  “‘I dream of Hazel with the light brown hair!’”

  Good old Stephen Foster. And trust Peter to insert her name.

  “Your hair is blond,” Nathan said through his teeth.

  “‘I see her tripping where the bright streams play...’”

  Hazel leaned in. “Is it me, or is he getting louder?”

  “‘Happy as the daisies that dance on her way...’”

  Nathan grunted. “Oh, I’m quite sure his voice is carrying to anyone in a two-mile radius.” Despite himself, his voice wasn’t quite as tense anymore, and the corner of his mouth twitched. On the other hand, his neck went from pink to almost purple.

  “‘Radiant in gladness,’” Peter continued, “warm with winning guile.’”

  “He’s skipping entire lines,” Nathan said. When Hazel couldn’t withhold a snicker, he glanced her way and added, “Not that I want him to sing the whole song.”

  She could no longer stop the laugher from escaping. It came out loud and strong, but she quickly covered her mouth, trying to hold it in, so as not to encourage Peter. The dam had broken wide open, however, and Hazel found herself laughing with tears streaming down her eyes. When she’d started to regain control, Peter’s voice cracked on “floating like a vapor,” she lost control again.

  The brothers knew how to needle each other so well, it had become an art form. She looked over her shoulder and found Peter standing on their porch in the distance, grinning like a hyena and waving cheerfully as he sang.

  “He’s an evil genius,” Hazel said. “You can’t deny that.”

  Nathan straightened his spine and pulled his shoulders back, doing his best to look unruffled and confident, though Hazel knew full well that he hated being the center of this kind of attention.

  “He’s evil, all right,” Nathan muttered. “And I’m going to kill him.”

  “No, you won’t,” Hazel said, threading her arm about his waist again. “You couldn’t live with the guilt. Besides...”

  “Besides, what?” Nathan might have been trying to sound irritated, but Hazel detected a thread of amusement.

  “He’s liable to tease you to death first.”

  Nathan looked away, but he couldn’t hide the smile creeping across his face.

  The remaining would have been unbearably awkward had Peter’s not sung so ridiculously and made them laugh. They reached her walk, she turned around. “Are you going to the picnic this afternoon?”

  “What, no comments about my avoiding the parade?” Nathan asked with a crooked smile.

  “Oh, I just assumed you wouldn’t be watching the parade, what with your being a hermit and all,” she said, glad he was playing along. She didn’t want their encounter to end painfully.

  Last year’s parade was the first in memory she hadn’t spent with Nathan, and that was because he’d spent the day with Meredith — a day she was quite sure that neither of them wanted to remember.

  “Oh, but hermit like aside, I’ve never missed a parade,” Nathan said. “Well, except for the year I fell ill.”

  “‘Fell ill,’ my foot,” Hazel scoffed. “You deliberately sneaked over to play with the Hansen children when they had chickenpox.”

  “I wanted to have them and get it over with,” Nathan said in an attempt at defending himself. “How, as a six-year-old boy, was I supposed to know that chickenpox would make me so miserable or last so long? I didn’t mean to miss the parade.”

  “Perhaps you can be excused for that one, but only because you were so young.”

  He leaned against a fence post and hooked his thumbs on his pockets as if ready to shoot the breeze awhile. “So why would you think I’d skip the parade this year? I mean, I was planning on skipping it, but...”

  Hazel’s wit abandoned her. She hoped he’d simply agree to attend some of the day’s celebrations, not delve into the reasons she knew he’d withdrawn from much of town life since Meredith’s abrupt departure. He hadn’t participated any of the things he used to, not even caroling along Main Street last Christmas Eve.

  When she didn’t answer, he lifted his eyebrows. “Well?”

  “I assumed you were grooming yourself to take over the position as town curmudgeon,” Hazel said with a chuckle. “Although you may have to wait for a few years for Mr. Sinclair to pass, as he laid claim that title some time ago.” That was the best she could do for a lighthearted answer. Continuing down the same line of questioning would inevitably open a Pandora’s Box of emotions and topics she would rather avoid, so she turned the conversation back to him with a question of her own.

  “So you are going to the parade, the picnic, and the dances?”

  “I didn’t say that...”

  “I was under the impression that you were trying to out-hermit Mr. Sinclair. If not, by all means, prove me wrong.”

  Nathan bent on leg and set the toe of his boot in front of him, then folded his arms. “Why, Miss Adams, is that a challenge?”

  She hadn’t meant it as one, but she jumped at the possibility of getting Nathan out of his house and interacting with others again. He thrived on friends and social interaction, and watching him withdraw further and further into a depressed state had been painful. But she couldn’t let him detect sympathy or ulterior motives in her countenance, or he’d withdraw all over again. Hazel mimicked his stance; she leaned against the nearby crabapple tree, bent one leg and rested the toe of her boot on the walk, then folded her arms and regarded him. “Consider the gauntlet thrown.”

  For a few seconds, they just stared at each other. Hazel did her utmost to keep a straight face, waiting for Nathan’s serious expression to break. She came mighty close to laughing, but she managed to hold on just long enough to see the corner of his mouth twitch first. She’d won. In another few seconds, it would be official. Sure enough, he cracked completely and let out a belly laugh.

  Inside, triumph bolstered Hazel. She could still influence him, make him laugh. She wanted more than that, though. She clapped as if cheering a winning team. “I believe that puts me twenty-nine points ahead of you in staring contests. At least.”

  “I’m out of practice.”

  “And who is to blame for that? Certainly not me. I am more than happy to enter another contest even at short notice, while you, Mr. Siddoway, rarely emerge from your house except for fieldwork and the occasional curmudgeonly comment?”

  “Granted,” Nathan said. “But evidence exists of said hermit doing the occasional gentlemanly deed.” He pointed to the parcel lying at her feet.

  “Go to all of it,” she said suddenly, all teasing gone from her voice. “It’ll be good for y
ou — the parade, the picnic — all of it.”

  “I don’t know...” He removed his hat, wiped his brow with a sleeve, and replaced the hat.

  “Please?”

  That single word brought his attention back to her. She waited, unsure whether speaking another word would deter him or convince him to come. She opted to remain silent and hope.

  After a moment, he nodded. “Fine. I’ll go to some of it. But only to prove that I’m not vying for Mr. Sinclair’s title.”

  Feeling victorious, Hazel picked up the parcel and headed up the porch steps. She pulled open the screen door, eager to get inside before he could talk his way out of going to the picnic, at minimum. Before going inside, she tossed one final comment over her shoulder.

  “Oh, you’re still a curmudgeon in training. I know the truth, even if you manage to pull the wool over others’ eyes.” She pushed the door to the house open and stepped inside, but Nathan spoke before she could close the door behind her.

  “If not to avoid becoming a curmudgeon, then why, exactly, am I going?”

  Hazel turned around and looked at him through the screen door. You’re going because you’ve been sad for too long. You’re going because I want to see you happy again, to see you move on from Meredith. She thought all of those things but couldn’t say them.

  “Because you promised me,” she said simply, then closed the door with a click.

  Chapter Five

  Hazel set the new fabric aside on her way upstairs to her bedroom, rather glad she’d gone to Bonner’s Mercantile today after all. She almost hadn’t, seeing as the store closed so early today, but something had compelled her to take the egg money she’d been saving up and go pick out fabric for two new dresses — one for everyday wear, and the other for special occasions. She’d looked forward to making them both, to having something new in her wardrobe, something that wasn’t worn or frayed or years out of fashion, even by Utah standards — which already tended to be a couple of years behind New York trends. In comparison, Midway fashion was positively ancient.