Autumn Skies: 3 (A Bluebell Inn Romance)

by Denise Hunter

  He placed the call, wondering belatedly if his dad was at some political event or fund-raiser. But his dad picked up on the second ring, greeting him with the same warm, robust manner that had gotten him elected again and again.

  “Hey, Dad, it’s me.”

  “Wyatt. It’s good to hear your voice. How are you doing? How’s your shoulder?”

  “It’s good. Really good. Listen, are you alone? You have a minute to talk?”

  “I can be. Just a second.”

  Wyatt heard his dad’s muffled voice as he spoke with someone, then a little shuffling around. A door clicked shut.

  “I just finished supper with Valerie. She made her scrumptious chicken and dumplings, and now I’ll have to jog an extra two miles tomorrow. So what’s going on with you, Son? I hear something in your voice, and I don’t know if I should be worried or excited.”

  “You don’t need to worry, Dad. Not anymore.”

  Wyatt told him about the troubles he’d been having on the job. About the nightmares that the shooting had resurrected. He told his dad where he was now—where he was staying. He told him why he’d come to Bluebell, what he’d been looking for, who he’d found. What he’d finally found.

  “I came here searching for something, Dad. I didn’t find what I’d expected, but I found what I needed: peace. I needed peace.”

  His dad was quiet a long moment, and Wyatt could feel his dad’s emotion vibrating through the phone.

  “Oh, Son.” Dad’s voice wobbled. “You don’t know how long I’ve prayed for this.”

  “I can’t tell you how much lighter I feel. I thought facing this would be hard and painful. But I feel like my legs are full of helium. Like I can draw a free breath for the first time in a long time.”

  He might even make it through the night without a nightmare. Which would mean he was fit for work again. The thought brought mixed emotions. He was eager to get back to work, but that would also mean leaving Grace.

  “I’m so glad, Wyatt. You could’ve told me where you’d gone. I would’ve tried to get away.”

  “I think this was something I needed to do alone, Dad. Besides, I didn’t want to worry you.”

  His dad gave a little chuckle. “That’s what dads do. But I’m so relieved you’re finding closure.”

  “About time, huh?”

  “And this woman you met . . . Grace. She’s going to be all right too?”

  Wyatt remembered the mess she was in his arms earlier. “She will be.” He believed that. God was going to do something really amazing with her.

  “She’s special, this woman? I hear it in your voice when you talk about her.”

  “She is special, but . . . there are obstacles.”

  His dad was quiet for a beat. “Well, if it’s meant to be, you’ll work it out, I guess.”

  But Wyatt didn’t want to think about that right now. He wasn’t seeing a solution at the moment, and he wanted to enjoy the wonderful freedom for a while longer.

  “I’ll give it some thought,” he said.

  Chapter Forty

  Grace lifted the Surly touring bike onto the pegs in the garage. Her rental merchandise had gotten a little out of hand as of late. Kayaks lay haphazardly on the cement floor. Bikes leaned, pedals tangled with wheel spokes, and life jackets draped randomly from various objects.

  Levi and Molly didn’t necessarily return everything to its place when tourists returned rentals. To be fair, sometimes it got a little crazy trying to run the front desk and dole out equipment. But Grace needed the space to be organized, everything in its place.

  She grabbed a bike and guided it into the proper slot in the rack. Darkness had fallen some time ago, but she needed time to think, and she did that best when she was busy.

  A moment later the side door squeaked open and Molly peeked inside. “Oh, hi. I was on my way home and saw the light on. I thought I might’ve left it on earlier.”

  “Nope. Just straightening things up.”

  Molly gave Grace a hangdog look. “Sorry about the bike I left out earlier. And the kayak. I did manage to hang up the wet life jackets—not necessarily in the right place though.”

  Grace wheeled a Trek into the rack. “No worries.”

  A scratch on the bike’s frame made her wince a little. These bikes were expensive. But they were rentals, and wear and tear was going to happen.

  “Okay, what’s wrong? I gave you the perfect opportunity to give me a hard time, and you completely passed it up.”

  Grace shrugged. “A lot on my mind, I guess.”

  Molly stepped inside and grabbed a bike, kicking up the stand. She wheeled it over. “Would it, perhaps, be the same thing that was on Wyatt’s mind earlier? He walked right past the front desk without a word. I don’t think he even saw me.”

  “Yeah. Probably the same thing.” She got the bike into the slot and looked at Molly. “Guess I may as well tell you. You’re going to get it out of me anyway.”

  “Smart girl.”

  So Grace told her sister why Wyatt had come to Bluebell, what Wyatt had been looking for in the mountains, that his mother not only died out there years ago but had been killed. Then she told Molly about the connection between Grace’s abduction and Wyatt’s mom.

  Molly gasped. “His mom was Janet Jennings?”

  “Yes.”

  Molly stared wide-eyed at Grace. “He’s Governor Jennings’s son then. This was his summer home. The same man who tried to abduct you killed his mom?”

  “Yes.”

  Molly grabbed Grace’s hand. “Oh, honey. Are you all right? That must’ve really thrown you for a loop.”

  “Not gonna lie—it kind of freaked me out.”

  “Of course it freaked you out! Did Wyatt know who you were the whole time he’s been here?”

  “He was as caught off guard as I was. He’d only told me his mother had died up there—not that she’d been murdered. I didn’t put it together until we were at the actual scene of the crime. Molly, he was there when she was killed—just twelve years old. He must’ve felt so helpless.”

  Molly placed a hand to her chest. “Oh, the poor dear.”

  “He’s had a difficult time finding closure. And when I found out who he was, who his mom was, all I could think was . . . if I hadn’t gotten away his mom would still be alive.”

  Molly’s brows drew together as her eyes searched Grace’s. “He didn’t make you feel that way, did he? Grace, that was in no way your fault.”

  She thought of those moments in the car earlier, Wyatt’s tender words and gentle touches. He’d been so loving, so careful.

  Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered. “Oh, Molly . . . he was so incredibly kind. He was . . . amazing.” His words were too private to share. She wanted to hold them close to her heart and savor them instead.

  “Okay, well, good. This whole thing is just so crazy, him coming here and meeting you. Maybe God brought him to this inn—to you—to bring him healing.”

  “I think you might be right. He didn’t even have a reservation when he came to town. He just drove by the inn because he wanted to see his old summer house. When he saw it had been turned into an inn, he decided to stay here.” That must’ve taken a great deal of courage. Must’ve stirred up a million memories, both good and bad.

  “God at work. That’s so cool.”

  It was kind of cool. That God cared so much about both of them. That He took two hurts and spread His healing touch over both of them with one simple stroke.

  “So . . . ,” Molly said, “I can’t help but wonder, where does that leave the two of you?”

  Grace considered the question, wishing for some miraculous solution to appear. “I don’t know. I guess in the same place we were in before. He has a life somewhere else doing something he loves. And I . . .” She looked around the garage at all the merchandise she’d so lovingly selected. “My dreams are here. I just bought a house, and Bluebell is my home. The thought of moving away from here—it would tear me up i
nside.” Though losing Wyatt wouldn’t exactly feel great either.

  Molly squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “To be honest, Molly, Wyatt’s not the only one who needed closure. I’ve kind of been struggling lately.”

  “Struggling how?”

  She gave Molly a sheepish look. “I might’ve had a panic attack or two.”

  “Grace! Why didn’t you say something? We need to get you to the doctor. Panic attacks are nothing to mess around with, and you probably need to have some blood work—”

  “I’ve only had two, and I really think it’s about what I went through as a kid. Maybe the stress of starting my own business brought it on. I don’t know. I probably need a little therapy or something.”

  Those words of Wyatt’s replayed in her mind. “It’s not your fault, Grace.” She closed her eyes as a feeling of peace moved in like an autumn fog. She allowed it to roll over her. Allowed it to soothe her spirit. It wasn’t quite forgiveness he’d granted. It was the complete absence of blame. However she defined it, it was freeing.

  “Well, I’m here whenever you need to talk.”

  “Thanks.” Grace glanced around the shed. “Right now I think I just want to get this space back in order.”

  Molly moved toward the life jacket hanging from an oar. “Well, I guess the least I can do is stay and help.”

  * * *

  It was nine o’clock by the time Molly made her way home. She’d texted Adam earlier to let him know to eat supper without her.

  Her mind was still spinning with the fact that the governor’s son had been under their roof for more than three weeks. He’d been a regular mystery man since his arrival. But when she thought of what he’d suffered as a child, she couldn’t blame him for keeping secrets. Also, it came as no surprise that a child who’d been unable to defend his mother had chosen a career in which he protected people.

  As they’d put the garage to order, Grace hadn’t said anything more about Wyatt. Unlike Molly, she wasn’t one to process things verbally. Instead they’d talked mostly about the sale of the inn and Grace’s plans for her new house.

  Boy, a lot sure happened when Levi left town. In two days, when he and Mia returned from their honeymoon, they’d have a lot of catching up to do. Molly would be glad for things to settle back to normal.

  But then, things would never really settle back to the way they were, would they? The inn was selling. Levi was moving to LA. Molly and Adam were moving to Italy. And Grace would be here alone, trying to make a go of her business.

  The realization put a pinch in Molly’s chest.

  When she pulled into the driveway she parked beside Adam’s car and entered the house through the side door. Adam was in the living room reading the New York Post on the sofa.

  “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

  “Hi, sweetheart.” Adam lowered the paper, and Molly leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips before she plopped down beside him. “Wow, what a day. How was yours? Did you get through that chapter that was giving you fits? I was right, wasn’t I? The protagonist needed to get on her motorcycle and let her hair down. Or was it the hero’s motorcycle? I can’t remember. So what’d you decide to do, huh?”

  Adam folded up the newspaper, set it on the coffee table, then sat back, searching her eyes for a long moment. “Did something happen today?”

  Molly turned fully toward him. “Oh, Adam, wait’ll I tell you.” She spilled Grace’s story, all of it somehow taking three times as long as it had taken her sister to tell. He listened quietly, nodding and frowning at all the appropriate moments.

  When she was finally finished he said, “That is a lot. Is Grace all right?”

  “She’s a little shaken, but I really fear what’s going to happen when Wyatt leaves. I think she’s in love with him. She didn’t say so—she might not even realize it yet. This is all new to her, and I think Wyatt loves her too, but he has a life somewhere else. It’s all so sad.”

  Molly was surprised that she was getting teary. A lump swelled in her throat, and those tears . . . Despite her best efforts one of them spilled over.

  “Honey . . . what’s wrong?”

  “I’m—I’m just worried about Grace, that’s all. She’s having panic attacks and she’s about to lose her first love!”

  “That is hard.” Adam brushed the tear away. “But are you sure that’s all it is?”

  “What else would it be?” The tears just kept coming, one after the other. Her lips trembled.

  “You tell me.” Adam gazed at her with those knowing eyes.

  Molly searched her heart and latched on to the one thing that had weighed heaviest on her mind. “You know what’s wrong with me? Everything’s changing, that’s what.”

  “Tell me what’s changing.”

  “Everything! Levi’s moving to LA, we’re moving to Italy, and Grace is buying a house and staying here all by herself.”

  Adam’s gaze turned thoughtful. “I thought that’s what everyone wanted.”

  “It was. It is!” So why was she so conflicted about it? “Argh! I’m not making any sense.”

  He gave her a patient smile. “Honey, when’s the last time you researched places for your bed-and-breakfast in Italy?”

  What did that have to do with anything? “What? I don’t know. Maybe a few weeks ago? I’ve been busy.”

  “You were searching every day there for a while, until the wee hours of the morning—right up until you put the inn up for sale. Honey . . . maybe you don’t want to move to Italy anymore.”

  Molly bristled. “Yes, I do. I’ve always wanted this. It’s my dream. I took three years of Italian in preparation for this. You’re having second thoughts! You’re backing out.”

  “No. No, that’s not it at all.”

  Molly crossed her arms, her foot ticking off time. “Sure sounds like it to me. You want to stay in the States. You don’t want to be that far from your family. You don’t want to travel to a different continent for your book tours. You love this house. You want this to be our home.”

  “Molly, look at me.”

  She was too upset to meet his gaze. Too afraid what she’d find there. Her stomach was in knots and her throat ached.

  Adam took her chin, forcing eye contact. “If you want to move to Italy, I’m 100 percent behind you, honey. I don’t care where we live because you are my home.”

  Her heart melted at his words. At the love written across his face with all the eloquence of a romantic poem.

  “Oh, Adam.” The tears kept coming.

  “What’s really bothering you?”

  She sniffled and made herself verbalize her feelings. “The inn’s going to change and not for the better. I should be grateful. I mean, we have a buyer and they’re paying full price, but . . .”

  Adam pulled her into his arms and set his chin on her head. “But what?”

  “The Johnson brothers are going to open a spa! They’re going to change the inn’s name! They’re going to get rid of Miss Della and cook city food in her kitchen! They’re not going to pass along the inn’s history or pamper the guests with all the little extras. They’re going to charge for Wi-Fi! They may as well just put up a Marriott sign!”

  He rubbed her back in long, soothing strokes for a full minute while she let the tears come.

  “Molly,” he said finally. “Hear me out, okay? I’m just listening to you and trying to assimilate everything you’re saying, everything you’ve said lately. And it sounds to me as if maybe you don’t want to sell the inn at all. It sounds as though you might want to keep it for yourself.”

  Molly opened her mouth to refute the words. But before they could escape, the notion took hold. She closed her mouth long enough to let the idea marinate for a minute.

  And it felt . . . right.

  She pushed away from Adam, far enough away that she could look into his eyes. But she wasn’t really seeing him. She was seeing herself running the inn. Seeing herself giving that historical tour as she’d done
hundreds of times. Seeing herself chatting with Miss Della in the kitchen over a plate of cookies during the slow periods. Adrenaline seeped into her bloodstream. Her heart shimmied in her chest. Her face flushed with heat.

  She pictured the inn without Levi or Grace—and surprisingly, that didn’t break her heart as she’d thought it would. Because the inn would be the place they could return to. It could be their home.

  They’d all set out to fulfill their parents’ dream—but somewhere along the way the dream had become her own.

  But there were obstacles. She only owned one-third of the inn, and her siblings wanted to sell it.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Molly blinked, seeing the concern in those faded blue eyes. She tried to collect her thoughts, but they were zinging through her mind at warp speed. All this thinking had at least caused the tears to abate.

  “I’m thinking it’s too late, Adam. We’ve already sold the inn. And I can’t run the business without Levi—he’s the financial wizard behind its success, and he wants to be done with it. Who can blame him? He’s already sacrificed so much for us. I can’t ask him to give up any more.

  “And Grace needs the money from the inn for her new location, and she’s already signed papers on the house! I don’t even have the money to buy them out. Yes, yes, I know you’d be happy to do that for me, but I can’t let you. This is my problem. No, it’s not feasible. I can’t do this to them.”

  Adam tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his eyes sharpening on hers. “But is it what you want, Molly?”

  How very like Adam to get right to the heart of the matter. She could do nothing but give him—give herself—a completely honest answer. “Yes. Yes, I would love to stay here and run the inn on my own, but—”

  He put his finger over her lips. “That’s the only part I need to hear. Let’s break down what you just said. The inn is already sold? You haven’t signed the papers yet; you were waiting for Levi’s return. And yes, he’s great with numbers, but you can learn to do it yourself or hire it out. The inn’s profitable enough to afford the expense. And Grace doesn’t have to give up her house because . . .” He took her chin and searched her eyes. “Your problem is my problem, and my money is your money. We’re a team, Molly Bradford, ever since I put that ring on your finger. If I needed something you’d move heaven and earth to get it for me. How could you think I’d do any less?”