by Liz Isaacson
Chapter Eighteen
Finn pulled his jacket tighter around himself and zipped it up. The sky looked like the devil himself had whipped up a storm to unleash on the Teton Mountain valley, but he had animals to feed. Hay to move. Chickens to take care of, so they didn’t freeze.
He thought he might freeze to death before he even stepped off his deck, what with the wind whipping around like it was.
Frowning at the sky, he hurried down the steps and across the backyard, mentally moving through his checklist.
It had snowed a few weeks ago, just after the Fall Festival in Coral Canyon, but that had melted pretty quickly. The kids had gotten in their trick-or-treating last week, but Finn felt sure the snow would come again tonight—and stay.
He wasn’t quite ready for winter to set in again, despite all the things about it he did like. His breath steamed in front of him as he walked toward the stables, trying to decide if he could put off a couple of the stalls he had slated to be cleaned today.
One step through the doors, and he knew he couldn’t. It smelled bad in there, and he hurried down the row of horses to find Gone With the Wind lying down.
“Hey,” he said to the mare. “Are you okay?”
She clearly wasn’t okay. The horse had been sick, and the stall needed to be cleaned. She needed a bath, and several more tasks got added to Finn’s list—including airing out the barn.
It hadn’t started to snow yet, so he opened all the doors leading out to the corral and let the other horses get outside for a bit. Gone With the Wind stood up, and Finn let her go too, though he’d be bringing her back in soon enough.
He put on gloves and made quick work of cleaning out the stalls on his list for the day. He hosed down Wind’s and added fresh straw to it. Then he moved down to the washing stalls and got the water going before bringing her back inside.
She was a stubborn thing, and she didn’t enjoy getting bathed. He collected a quick sample of muck from her coat before leading her into the spray. Hopefully, she’d recover quickly, but he’d take that to the vet on his way to Coral Canyon that afternoon.
He and Amanda had tickets to a play at the community theater there. Apparently, one of the girls in her church congregation had landed one of the leading roles, and Amanda wanted to support her.
“Come on, Windy,” he said, tugging on the reins to get the horse to move. She glared at him, and he glared right back. “You’re covered in sick,” he reasoned. “The water is warm.”
Apparently, she didn’t care about warm water, and Finn ended up as wet as she was by the time he got her cleaned up. Frustrated, and with miles of chores to go, he pulled out his phone and texted Amanda that he might have to meet her at the theater.
Everything okay? she sent back.
Just a sick horse. And he had to shower again now, too. He fed all the thoroughbreds, closed all the outside doors, and locked everything up tight. “All right, guys,” he said to the equines he loved so much. “I have to go. I’ll come check on you tonight.”
He’d be getting home late, which was fine. He’d still come out in the dark and make sure they all had the water and feed they needed. That Windy wasn’t sick again.
As he hurried over to the hay barn, he called the vet and said, “Hey, Wilson. It’s Finn.”
“What’s goin’ on, Finn?” he asked, and Finn realized it was Saturday.
“You’re not in today, are you?”
“Not usually.”
“I’m sorry,” Finn said. “I just have a horse that was lying down this morning. Been sick overnight.”
“Got a sample?”
“Yes.”
“Bring it by. I’ll look at it,” he said. “I’m at home.”
“Thanks, Wilson,” he said.
“See you soon.”
Finn ducked into the henhouse to check on the heat lamps. They seemed to be working fine, and he tossed some seed on the ground and checked water troughs before heading to the hay barn.
He worked, and worked, and worked to get everything done on the farm in anticipation of being gone for several hours with snow on the way. His dogs trotted around with him everywhere he went, until Chocolate made a mad dash for the fence, barking his fool head off.
“Chocolate,” Finn said, his head pounding. “Enough.” He didn’t need the noise on top of the stress. Anxiety and frustration mingled together, especially when the chocolate Lab didn’t stop and return to him.
Finn focused beyond the dog, out into the fields where he stood. His tail wagged and wagged, as if a friend was coming to see him, but what Finn saw wasn’t a welcome guest.
“A moose,” he said as the majestic animal moved closer. He looked like he was loping along, barely moving, and Finn was struck with wonder. He loved wildlife, had a deep respect for it.
But he also knew moose were particularly moody and could cause a great deal of damage to dogs, humans, and anything else that got in their path.
“Come on,” he said, whistling to get Chocolate away from the fence. “Let’s go, guys.” He started for the house, ready to get out of the wind, out of the cold, and into the hot shower.
He kept his eyes on the moose for several steps backward, but it had stopped. “Chocolate,” Finn barked, and the dog finally turned and trotted toward him.
“Good boy,” he said, twisting and walking forward now. “Let’s get inside.” Relief filled him as he climbed the steps to the deck and held the door open for his canines.
Once everyone was safely inside, Finn peered through the window to find the moose had disappeared. He had high fences to keep the deer and moose off his property, as he didn’t spend hours in his yard pruning and tending to his roses to have them all eaten for breakfast. He didn’t think the moose had wandered onto his property, but he didn’t want to lose a goat or a chicken to the wild animal. He didn’t want to hit it with his truck, that was for sure.
He showered and got on the road toward Coral Canyon in time to pick up Amanda. He texted her, but she didn’t respond.
He went to her house anyway, hoping she’d received his message and would be ready. The snow started to fall as he pulled into her circle drive, and he dashed through the white stuff to ring the doorbell.
She didn’t come, and Finn suddenly just wanted to go home. Get some dinner and sit on his couch, something playing on the TV in front of him. He still hadn’t eaten, and he hoped the theater had concessions of some kind.
But Amanda wouldn’t come to the door.
He pulled out his phone and called her, turning toward his truck as if he might hurry back to it and get over to the theater. She obviously wasn’t here.
Her phone rang, and he tilted his head as he heard it in two places. One through his phone and one inside her house.
So she had to be here.
He hung up and tried the doorknob. “Amanda?” he called, scanning the house the way he had the stables earlier that day.
He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. But there was definitely something not right here. She wasn’t in the study off the foyer, nor the living room, dining room, or kitchen. Her phone sat on the kitchen counter, and surely she wouldn’t have left it to go out in this weather.
He stepped through the mudroom and checked the garage. Her car was here. She had to be here.
“Amanda?” he called again, louder this time. Maybe she’d fallen and been hurt. Couldn’t get to her phone. His pulse accelerated, and he turned his attention to the steps. Could she be upstairs? Her bedroom was on the main floor, and he knew she didn’t use those upstairs bedrooms very often.
So he detoured over to the hallway that led deeper into the house, and the distinct sound of someone crying met his ears.
“Amanda?” he asked softly, pushing open her ajar bedroom door.
She sat on the floor, dozens of photo albums spread before her. She still hadn’t heard him or acknowledged him, and he heard her murmur, “I’m so sorry, Ron. I miss you so much.”
His
heartbeat pumped ice cold blood into his veins, and he froze. What was she sorry about?
Of course he knew she’d always love her husband, but it sounded like she wasn’t ready for another committed relationship.
Foolishness hit him with the force of a blizzard, and he felt blinded. He hadn’t expected that at all, and he probably should have. No matter what, he could never ask her to leave this house. Leave her support system. Her church. Her friends.
He turned to leave, his foot kicking the doorjamb and drawing her attention.
“Finn,” she said, her voice full of surprise.
“I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “I knocked. I called you. When you didn’t come….” He trailed off, not sure how to finish. “What is all this?”
“Just memories,” she said, swiping at her eyes and turning away from him to stand up. She faced him, apprehension on her face now.
Finn searched and searched her face, trying to find an answer he didn’t know existed. “Amanda, I’m not feeling up to the play.”
That much was true.
“I’m not either, truth be told,” she said.
He took in the vast amount of memories spread out on her bedroom floor. There were a couple of baby outfits and shoes, as well as some framed items he couldn’t see very well from where he stood in the doorway.
“How long have you been in here, looking at this stuff?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She sighed and ran her hands up and down her arms. “I need to turn on the furnace. It’s cold in here.”
It was cold in there, and Finn felt the chill all the way into his bones. “Amanda,” he said. “Do we—I mean, I feel like we need to talk about this.”
“What?” she asked, though she had to know.
“Your memories.” He indicated the spread on the floor. “I don’t see how you’re ever going to leave this house.”
Fresh tears gathered in her eyes, and she pressed her lips tightly together. “I can’t disagree.”
Finn felt like someone had slapped the air out of his lungs. “I—” He didn’t know what else to say. She’d just said so much with only three words.
Three words.
He knew the power of three other words, and he did love Amanda. He’d told her in more than three words, but he’d said it nonetheless. He couldn’t take it back now, though everything inside him wanted to.
“I need to go,” he said.
“Finn,” she said, her voice breaking. The tears tracked down her cheeks. “I’m just—”
“Not ready,” he said. “I understand.” But he didn’t. He also didn’t want to be a jerk. He hadn’t lost his wife, and he honestly had no idea what she was going through.
She stepped over to him and put her hand on his arm. “I don’t want to break up.”
“But you don’t want to be with me where I am,” he said. “What else is there to do?” He thought of her previous boyfriend, the man who’d been on her porch after the Fall Festival. “Is this why you and Jason didn’t work out?”
Something flashed through her eyes even as she shook her head. “No.”
Finn wanted to stay. He wanted to go. The war raged inside him, and he finally said, “Amanda, I need to go.”
Her hand fell from his arm as he backed up. He turned and walked away, and she let him go. It was the worst feeling in the world, and Finn hated every step he took away from her.
But she didn’t call him back, and that felt like a break-up to him.
Chapter Nineteen
Amanda added more salt to the pumpkin soup, her remedy to a terrible, awful, no-good snow day.
She’d put away all of the photo albums. All the mementos from her sons’ childhoods. All the pieces of jewelry Ron had bought her over the years. She could put away the physical things, but she couldn’t rid herself of the memories.
She could hear his laughter in the walls, see her boys as they wrestled on the couches in the living room, relive the dinners they used to share in the evenings.
She hated that Finn had found her crying over old things. She’d been planning to just look for a few minutes, but hours had slipped by. As the snow fell last night after Finn had left, she’d continued to look through the good times of her life, remembering all the fun she’d had as a young mother. All the joy she’d seen in her sons. All the hard times when Ron worked too late. The times when the kids were sick.
Through all of that, she’d realized Finn was right. She didn’t want to be with him where he was. She wanted him to come here, to this house, so she could make new memories there—with him.
She felt so stupid. So selfish. Because of that, she hadn’t been able to call him last night or this morning. She’d spent the first few hours after waking up baking a chocolate cherry cake for Brianna, who they were supposed to see in the play the previous evening.
She’d spent a few minutes at the younger woman’s home, the cake a gift and an apology at the same time. Now, after church, which she’d attended alone, she bent over her recipe book, wondering how much curry was too much. In her opinion, such a thing couldn’t happen, and she was probably going to be the only one who’d eat this soup.
So she heaved in another palm full of the spice and stirred it into the simmering broth before adding the shredded chicken and wild rice.
Her phone chimed, and she practically jumped out of her skin with the sound. It was Eli, and a smile immediately formed on her face.
Coming for Thanksgiving!
He’d had to put a few things in order at the resort he managed before he could fully commit, and he must’ve done so.
That’s great news, she sent back to him, her fingers a bit sticky against her screen. As she washed her hands, she realized Eli and his family would stay at the lodge. She hurried to pick up her phone again and ask him Will you consider staying here? I’d love to have guests.
While she was at it, she texted all her sons in the family text and said, I want to host Thanksgiving dinner at my house this year. What do you all think?
She sent the message, and then added, I’ll talk to Celia. I know she’s very much a part of our family. And the Everett’s, and Bree and Annie, and anyone else who wants to come. We’ll just do it here instead of at the lodge. There’s plenty of space.
And there was.
She and Ron had specifically built this house to be able to host everyone who ever wanted to come through the door. And she wanted them here this year. It would be the first time since Ron had died, and it was time.
Sure, Beau said.
Of course, Graham texted.
We’ll stay with you, Mom, Eli said.
Only Andrew didn’t answer right away, but Chrissy had been sick that day, and Becca wasn’t feeling well either. He was probably attending to his family, and he’d respond when he finally got back to his phone.
Is this you wanting to show off your culinary skills for Finn? Beau asked, a wink following the question.
Amanda almost scoffed, but the sound morphed into a sob right there in her throat.
Finn.
How could she go through the holidays without him? She’d been so excited to share the Christmas traditions at the lodge with him, and now she wouldn’t be able to.
We broke up. She stared at the words before sending them zipping to all of her son’s devices.
Not surprisingly, Graham called ten seconds later. “Mom,” he said. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Amanda said, though she knew perfectly well. She just didn’t want to admit that it was her fault. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t say anything else.
“I thought you guys were getting along so great,” he said as another call beeped in her ear.
“Beau’s calling,” she said.
“Of course he is,” Graham said. “He can wait. Mom.”
She didn’t like the way he said Mom, but she did appreciate the concern she heard in his voice. “Graham, I—I’m not sure I’m ready to get remarried.”
/> “Really?” he asked. “You’ve been dating for years. Finn’s not the first guy you’ve been out with. Heck, you dated Jason forever.”
“Yeah,” she said. Dated. There was no commitment there, and she knew it.
“What happened?” Graham asked. “I thought he was a great fit for you.”
“He was,” she said. “He is.”
“I’m so confused,” Graham said.
Amanda took a deep breath and blew it out. “It’s not that confusing, Graham. He lives in Dog Valley. I live here.”
“He can’t move?”
“He has a very successful farm there, and he’s not ready to give it up.”
“Then why can’t you—?”
“Beau’s calling again,” she said. “I’m going to switch over. I’ll talk to you later, Graham.”
“I can set you up with someone else,” he yelled into the phone, but Amanda ended the call without answering him.
No, thank you. She would not be going on another blind date. She didn’t want to date anyone, period.
Because you’re in love with Finn Barber.
“Hello, Beau,” she said, wishing she’d said nothing. She’d known her sons would call, and she’d have to explain things she didn’t fully understand herself.
“Mom,” he said, his voice filled with compassion. “Why did you break up with Finn?”
“Actually,” she said, a fresh wave of agony rolling through her. “He broke up with me.”
Amanda pulled the pecan pie from the oven as the sun lit Thanksgiving Day. Eli and Meg and their kids had arrived yesterday afternoon, and she’d enjoyed having their laughter and presence in her house so much.
She’d finished a couple of chocolate pies while her grandson, Stockton, told her all about his surfing lessons in California. She’d chopped up the bread cubes for the stuffing and left them out to dry.
A soft knock sounded on the front door, and she hurried toward it to let Celia in. “Morning,” she said, getting blasted with the chill of the day. There had been snow on the ground for weeks now, and Amanda still didn’t know how to enjoy it the way Finn had suggested.
