Come Home to Deep River
Page 22
“Yeah, well, thanks for the philosophy,” he said, trying not to sound ungrateful. “But I got a few things to do.”
“Sure you do,” Phil said, unoffended. “You come up and see me again soon. And bring your hammer for the shingles. Oh, and some more yarn. Doesn’t matter what color. It’s for the birds.”
Si frowned, distracted. “The yarn is for the birds?”
Phil grinned and held up his knitting. It looked like a tiny tank top with overly big armholes “Vests for birds. Keeps ’em from grooming if there’s oil on their feathers.” He winked. “Albert likes blue.”
“Albert?”
“The albatross.” Phil went back to knitting. “He’s very picky.”
Si decided that was his cue to leave.
“Oh, tell Astrid not to send me any of the love story books that stop at the bedroom door,” Phil shouted after him as Si excused himself and went down the steps. “I want the hot stuff. I may be seventy-five, but I’m not dead yet!”
* * *
Hope sat in front of the computer at Mal’s—the one the whole town used when their personal internet connections weren’t working, which was frequently. Mal had some kind of satellite link for the computer in his store, which was more reliable, and he’d made it publicly available. You had to pay for the privilege of course, since the link and the data weren’t cheap, but Hope didn’t mind paying. She was doing some more college research, plus a couple of other banking things, since the internet in her office in the Moose was down.
It had totally nothing to do with the fact that she was avoiding Silas.
Sure you’re not.
She wasn’t. Why would she need to avoid him? She only needed some distance from his distracting presence. Time away from the relentless pull of her attraction to him and the way he made her feel. The needy vulnerability that gripped her whenever he was around.
She hated that feeling. Just as she hadn’t much liked him witnessing everything that had happened with her mother a few days earlier.
She shouldn’t have gotten angry with Angela, and she definitely shouldn’t have dumped it all on Silas after her mother had left. Shouldn’t have said to him that stuff about how Angela had never told her that she loved her. It felt pathetic somehow to reveal that. Pathetic that she’d let it matter. And it shouldn’t matter, because she knew on some level that Angela did love her. She didn’t need to be told it a thousand times a day.
Don’t you?
Whatever, she certainly didn’t need Silas watching her with those sharp green-gold eyes, as if he saw all that neediness inside her, saw the depth of her loneliness.
“You needed her. You were trying to prove something to her.”
Yeah, and that little observation he’d made hadn’t helped. Especially when she had a horrible suspicion that he was right, that she’d stayed not because she was afraid to leave but because she’d wanted to show her mother that she was worthy somehow. That giving up all the things that mattered to her would somehow make her mother say those magic words in return.
But Angela never had, and so Hope had always wondered if there was something about her that prevented her mother from saying it. Perhaps the circumstances of her birth, that Hope was the reason Angela had been forced to stay in town, first because of her mental health after Hope’s birth and then because of her father’s manipulation.
Perhaps Silas was right. Perhaps it had been love that kept Angela here. Yet that love didn’t feel like a good thing. It didn’t feel warm or comforting. It only felt resentful and bitter.
God, if that was love, she didn’t want any part of it.
That’s why you pushed Silas away.
Hope shook her head as if she could shake away that particular thought. She didn’t love Silas. As a friend maybe, but nothing more.
But if you don’t feel anything for him, then why are you distancing yourself from him?
She growled under her breath and tapped angrily on the keyboard, trying to focus on the screen and not on the voice in her head.
“Hey,” Mal said grumpily from behind the counter. “Don’t hit the keys too hard. Those keyboards don’t last that long.”
“Sorry,” Hope muttered. She gripped the mouse and hit print for a few application forms, finished up her banking, then pushed the chair back, getting up to go and retrieve her forms from the printer.
“Town meeting tomorrow night,” Mal commented. “Your boy going to be ’fessing up?”
Hope grabbed the forms, folding them up into small, precise squares. “Firstly, he’s not my boy, and secondly, ’fessing up to what?”
Mal lifted one big shoulder. “The fact that he’s decided to stick around. Which I’m sure means he’s going to continue to be the town’s new owner.”
Hope felt oddly defensive. “Yes, he is. That a problem?”
Mal grinned. “Hey, I didn’t say anything was wrong with that. In fact, I told him this town could use him, so I’m more than happy with the situation.” He raised a brow. “You sure he’s not your boy?”
She could feel her face get hot. “No. He’s not staying for me. He felt some responsibility for the town.”
“Okay, sure.” There was so much obvious skepticism in Mal’s voice that Hope couldn’t help herself.
“It’s not me. If it were, he’d be leaving with me, and he isn’t.”
Mal frowned. “Leaving with you? Where are you going?”
She drew herself up, feeling even more defensive. “I decided I want to go to college. I always wanted to get a literature degree but I never had the chance, and so I thought I’d take the chance now.”
“Huh. You sure you need to leave for that? Plenty of colleges do degrees remotely.” He grinned. “I got one myself.”
It was just the kind of thing Mal would do, since he often came out with surprising things that no one knew about him. But Hope had her reasons for not wanting to study remotely.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to do that,” she said. “I want to experience college life, go somewhere different.”
“Different’s good,” Mal replied. “Nothing like going somewhere else to make you understand where you really need to be.”
But that sounded too much like one of her granddad’s old sayings for comfort, so Hope only made a few noncommittal noises, then escaped outside.
She headed straight back to the Moose because she wanted to fill out the application forms ASAP and then get them in the mail. She could have sat there and completed them online, but filling out forms with a sketchy internet connection was a drama, and the mail tended to be more reliable. She was going to have to ask the high school for official transcripts of her academic records as well. Fun.
Pushing open the door to the bar, her head full of all the things she had to do, she didn’t immediately see the two people standing behind the bar. Then she did, coming to a surprised stop.
Silas and her mother were looking at a document of some kind and talking. Her mother, for once, was almost smiling.
She hadn’t seen Si for a couple of days, and the reality of his presence hit her like a punch to the stomach. He seemed taller somehow, broader, her mother seeming even more tiny and delicate next to him. One of his rare, precious smiles was playing around his beautifully carved mouth, the handsome lines of his face relaxed. He was so hot. He made everything inside her clench tight with longing.
Shoving down the need to go over there and touch him, she asked instead, “What’s going on?”
The pair of them lifted their heads. Si’s gaze was enigmatic, but she felt that gut punch again as she met it, because apparently that’s the way she always felt whenever she looked into his eyes.
“Angela’s just accepted my offer for the Moose,” he said.
A small electric shock hit her, though she had no idea why, since that’s what he’d offered to do a few
days ago. “Oh,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
“And you’ll be pleased to know that I didn’t make him go higher than what that other guy offered me.” A satisfied look settled over her mother’s face. “I’m not greedy. I just want enough to start again without having to struggle the way I did here.”
Was that something to be glad about? Or did it just make Hope feel worse? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure what she felt, period.
Oh, come on, you do. The Moose won’t be yours anymore, and you don’t like it.
She was conscious suddenly of the weight of the years pressing down on her, of the memories she had of this place. Not all of them good, but not all of them bad either. Her and Cal and Si playing in here in the early mornings, pretending to pull drinks. Making up stories about the animal heads on the walls. And when she was older, creeping downstairs to watch the adults talk and drink, watching Joe and Lloyd fight. And older still, wondering if her granddad would notice if she stole a beer from the fridge, since the problem with being the granddaughter of the bar owner was that you couldn’t pretend to be of age, and all the fake IDs in the world weren’t going to help.
Then as an adult, after her grandfather had passed away, managing this place and taking pride in how the bar was like a big dining room, with all the families clustered around, talking and drinking, arguing and laughing. A big community, making her feel connected.
A sharp pain started up behind her breastbone, and she had to catch her breath.
“Hope?” Silas’s gaze was focused, and she knew that he’d read every thought that had just gone through her head.
So she shut it down, ignored the pain, pasted a smile on her face, since she was tough and she’d made a decision and she wasn’t going back on it. “Great.” She tried to sound like she meant it. “That’s fantastic news.”
“Isn’t it?” Her mother gave one of Silas’s broad shoulders a pat, which was weird considering a couple of days ago she’d looked at him like she wanted to kill him. “Well, I’ll leave you two to sort out the rest. I’ve got a few things to do.”
“You having second thoughts?” Silas asked after Angela had gone.
“No, of course not.” Hope forced a smile. “It’s wonderful. Mom’s obviously ecstatic.”
But he clearly wasn’t going to let it go. “You didn’t seem to think it was so very wonderful just then.”
“Of course I have a few regrets,” she said, unable to keep the impatience out of her voice. “I’ve been looking after this place for thirteen years. But this is what I want, and this is what Mom wants, and it’s great it’s going to someone who’ll look after it properly.”
He said nothing for a second, only looking at her, and a sudden wave of anger washed through her.
“What?” she demanded. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s great, it’s wonderful. And I’m so pleased you and Mom are buddies again.” She reached into the back pocket of her jeans, grabbing the application forms and brandishing them. “And look, I got all the forms I need for college.” She began to head for the door to her office. “So, if you don’t mind, I’ll just go—”
Silas stepped out from behind the bar all of a sudden, blocking her way.
Brought up short, Hope glared at him. “What?”
He narrowed his gaze; he was a very big, very broad, and very solid brick wall. “What’s going on with you, Hope? You’ve been avoiding me for days now, and I want to know why.”
“What for?” she snapped. “Getting sick of your right hand?”
He’d always been slow to anger, those volcanic emotions of his buried so deep that sometimes it was impossible to reach them. But she’d clearly reached them now because an emerald glitter of anger leapt in his eyes.
“You think that’s all that’s bothering me?” he demanded. “That all I want from you is sex?”
“Well, isn’t it?” She knew she was being unfair, knew that this wasn’t just about the sex, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “You haven’t exactly been beating down my door to have an actual conversation.”
“You told me you wanted distance. So that’s what I was giving you.”
Of course. So why she was getting annoyed with him she had no idea. And it had nothing to do with the unexpected feeling that kept shifting inside her, a kind of weightlessness, like she was a hot air balloon that had come untethered from its mooring and was floating away, nothing to keep it grounded anymore.
“Then why are you getting in my face again?” She couldn’t shut herself up, couldn’t stop all the words she didn’t mean from coming out.
“Come on, Hope. You should know me better than that.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t.”
His gaze gleamed emerald. Then he reached out suddenly, his hand cupping her cheek in the way he’d done over the past few days, a gesture that never failed to make her heart ache in her chest. The look on his face softened, the anger vanishing to become something else, something more tender. “It’s not about the sex though, is it?” His thumb brushed along her cheekbone. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.”
Her throat closed, and much to her horror her eyes prickled, and he must have seen it because then his arms were around her and he was gathering her close, and all the fight went right out of her.
She melted into him, completely unable to resist him, not understanding how starved for his warmth and strength she’d been until now. And it was so good to have his arms around her, so good to have him hold her.
Hope pressed her forehead to his chest, closing her eyes, her throat sore. “This was what I wanted,” she said, her voice muffled against his T-shirt. “You buying the Moose’s lease is perfect, so I don’t know why I feel so crappy about it.”
His hand was on the back of her head, stroking her hair. “Like you said, you have regrets. That’s only natural.”
She could hear the beat of his heart, steady and strong and certain, the sound of it soothing her. “I didn’t think I would. I thought I could leave this damn place without feeling a thing.”
Gently, his fingers came under her chin and he tilted her head back, the sympathy and understanding on his face making the ache in her chest even worse. “I know. I thought the same thing when I left years ago. It was…hard, and I didn’t think it would be. And it’s understandable, Hope. This is your home. But you made the right choice, okay? You need to go and have the life you always wanted, otherwise you’ll regret that more than you’ll ever regret leaving.”
He was right. She had made the right choice, and she knew it. Yet a tiny, almost forgotten part of her was uncomfortable with what he’d said. Almost as if that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
Almost as if she’d wanted him to say something else entirely.
But that was stupid. What else did she want him to say?
She put her hand on his chest, pressing it over that strongly beating heart. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” And right now, with his arms around her, she didn’t understand why she had. Time with him was limited, and she was done wasting it. “I shouldn’t. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I guess making all these decisions about my future has been tough.”
He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, his touch making her shiver helplessly. “Hey, I get it. Change isn’t easy, especially when you’ve been doing the same thing for so long. But your mom is really excited about it, and I think you should be too.”
Hope leaned against him, indulging herself totally in the hard warmth of his body. “You two seem to be friends now.”
“Yeah, she forgave me for despoiling her daughter. Especially when I told her I’d match whatever that oil asshole promised her for the Moose.” He smiled. “I think she thought I was going to insist you stay here with me and got a whole lot friendlier when I said that you weren’t. That you were pretty set on this college idea.”
“Of course you are.” His thumb moved along her jaw, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “And now you’ll have some money in that college fund.”
“Are you sure about this, Si?” She couldn’t help but ask. “It’s a lot of money, and I know you’ve got your own business to think about.”
“Yes, I’m sure. And you let me worry about my business, okay? Now…” The look in his eyes intensified, making her breath catch. “Are you still after that distance? Or would you mind me getting a little closer?”
There were doubts in her head, doubts she didn’t understand, and she didn’t want them there. So she put her hands on his chest and rose on her tiptoes, giving him her answer by pressing her mouth to his.
Because if she knew one thing it was that Silas Quinn was very good at getting rid of doubts. Maybe not forever, but for a little while at least.
Chapter 16
The community center was as full as Si had ever seen it, with people packed in, sitting on the hard wooden benches that were set out in the middle of the hall and, when those had gotten full, standing along the sides and leaning against the walls.
The murmur of voices filled the space, people in deep discussion with each other. Some of the conversations looked heated, but he wasn’t getting any angry vibes from anyone. Even from Mike Flint and his little contingent. Sure, Mike had given Si a skeptical look as he’d entered the hall, but it was more convince me than nothing you say will change my mind.
He hoped that was true. He also hoped it was true of the other people who considered that the oil might be a good thing for the town.
He and Hope had spent the night talking about their ideas for using tourism as an alternative moneymaking idea for Deep River—when they weren’t totally indulging themselves in bed, of course—since he was going to be presenting the ideas to the town tonight. He’d wanted to have a strong, cohesive vision, so people knew exactly what they were making a decision about.