Woodrose Mountain

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Wrong. If you need me here, that comes first, Mom.”

  “Let’s take a vote,” Maura said to the table at large. “All in favor of Sage going back to school, raise your hand. Taryn, you too.”

  Taryn raised her hand, unsmiling. Katherine lifted hers way up and Evie did, too, though she was sympathetic to both points of view. She had been the grieving mother and she had been the dutiful daughter, wanting to take care of her mother after her sister died.

  She had taken one semester off from school right after the fire and then the next after her sister died from her injuries. By the time fall semester was to start, her mother had convinced her she should return—and two weeks into the new semester, while Evie was just beginning to try to get back into the routine of her studies, her mother had overdosed on pain pills.

  She knew she had done the right thing, returning to school. Her mother had insisted, much as Maura was insisting now. But Evie would always wonder what might have happened if she had taken another semester off.

  If she had been home, would her mother have been so very despondent and in such grave physical and emotional pain that she would see no other choice than to take such drastic, irrevocable actions?

  The circumstances were not the same, of course. Maura was surrounded by a warm, supportive family. The McKnights had rallied around her after Layla’s death and they would continue to do so as long as she needed them. Mary Ella, her mother. Sisters Angie and Alex. After years of working as an undercover police officer in Northern California, even Riley lived back in Hope’s Crossing and would be settling here with Claire.

  “You need to go back to school,” Maura insisted. “You can’t afford to get off track with your undergraduate work if you want to get into architectural school.”

  Sage looked as if she wanted to argue the point further but she was interrupted by the server, a young man with blond dreadlocks who looked like he should be catching waves instead of slinging hash—and whom Evie was almost positive she’d seen working at the ski resort over the winter.

  “Hey, ladies. I’m Logan and I’ll be your server this afternoon. Sorry for the delay. Afraid we had a bit of a mix-up in station assignments. I’ve been given strict instructions to take good care of you all or Dermot will have my hide—and I really need my hide, you know? Want to order drinks first or have you had enough time to look at the menu?”

  Evie hadn’t even looked at the menu but since the turkey wrap was one of her favorites anyway, she decided to go with Dermot’s suggestion. Katherine and Maura did the same, while Sage ordered the veggie burger.

  “Taryn?” Evie asked. “What about you?”

  “Fries,” she said. “And…a cheese sandwich.”

  After they’d placed their beverage orders, the apologetic surfer-dude waiter hurried away. Katherine, ever the diplomat, quickly spoke up to change the subject before Maura and Sage could begin arguing about college again.

  “The Angel has been hard at work again. Have you heard?”

  “No. What’s happened?” Evie asked.

  “You know how Gretchen Kirk has been struggling since her jerk of a husband took off with that waitress from Breckenridge? Well, apparently she woke up one day this week to find boxes and boxes of brand-new school supplies from the Angel for her three boys and Hannah. Clothes, shoes, backpacks, notebooks. The whole thing. And when she went to take care of their school fees, they were already paid.”

  “What a great idea,” Claire exclaimed. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

  Evie looked at Taryn and found her frowning. Hannah hadn’t said anything about it during her visits, but then she didn’t talk much about how things were at home, now that her father was gone.

  “What’s the latest rumor about the Angel’s identity?” Evie asked. Between the art shows she’d been attending all summer and the last few weeks working with Taryn in virtual isolation, she felt completely out of the loop about the goings-on in town. “Is Claire still determined it’s a quorum of angels rather than a solitary individual?”

  “Oh, the speculation runs rampant, depending on the source,” Katherine said. “I even heard one rumor that the Angel is a movie star who moved into a house up in Silver Strike Canyon.”

  “I got something from the Angel.” Taryn had been sitting so quietly, apparently just listening to the conversation, that her unexpected contribution to the conversation seemed to take them all by surprise. Sage smiled at her but Maura looked down at her water glass, her features tight.

  “What did the Angel give you?” Sage asked.

  “A game system for exercising. We have…f-fun on it.”

  Evie gave an inward cringe, hoping the girl didn’t mention that her favorite opponent was Charlie Beaumont. She didn’t want to hurt Maura by bringing up what was bound to be a touchy subject, considering Charlie had been responsible for her daughter’s death. To her guilty relief, Taryn subsided into silence once more and the conversation eddied around her.

  The service was quick, even for the Center of Hope Café. Logan brought their meals out barely a few moments after he’d taken the order back to the grill, complete with a few garnishes Evie was sure were specially added for their table.

  “Remind me to bring you here for lunch more often, if this is the kind of treatment we can expect,” she teased Katherine and was amused when the older woman seemed to grow flustered. Dermot Caine had been a widower for years, just as Katherine had been a widow. Interesting that they’d never dated. Maybe they simply needed a push… .

  That pleasant speculation was interrupted by another person coming into their section as if he owned the place—one of Evie’s least favorite people in town, Harry Lange.

  “Oh. That man,” Katherine exclaimed when Harry plopped down into a booth at the other end of the otherwise empty section and immediately opened a newspaper. “He thinks he owns the whole blasted town.”

  “It’s a good thing Mary Ella’s not here,” Evie said. “She’d probably go dump her water glass on his head.” Mary Ella, Maura’s mother, had a longstanding feud of unknown origin with Harry Lange.

  Lange was about the only person who had more money than the Beaumonts. Evie knew he had sold the land up in Silver Strike Canyon that had eventually been turned into the ski resort and had been on the ground floor of the project. Maybe because he was richer than anyone else, he seemed to think that gave him the right to treat people in town like dirt. He was abrasive and annoying and raised her hackles every time she was forced to interact with him, which—blessedly—was rarely.

  The man seemed to bring a big rain cloud with him. Katherine glowered a few times at Harry, Sage seemed to be studying him with interest, while Maura spent the rest of lunch moving her plate around and deliberately not looking at him.

  The only time the mood lightened was when Dermot Caine himself delivered slices of his delicious blackberry pie. Nobody could stay in a bad mood while eating Dermot’s pie, with its flaky, buttery golden crust and the juicy, lemony berry filling.

  “I guess we’d better get back before Ruth alienates all our customers,” Maura said when they were finished, still not looking at Harry, tucked behind his newspaper. “Happy birthday, Kat. Thanks for letting us share it. Evie, thank you for offering to buy lunch. I owe you next time.”

  “My pleasure. I’m thrilled you could join us.” Evie smiled and stood up to hug her friend, vowing she would still find a moment to have a private visit. Maura turned and pressed her cheek to Katherine’s for a moment and Sage did the same, then the two of them left the diner.

  “I should go as well,” Katherine said with regret, picking up the boxed meal they had ordered for Claire. “Claire’s been alone too long at the store and she really does need to go home and pack. Thank you so much for inviting me. You’ve made my birthday a lovely one.”

  “It was all Taryn’s idea,” Evie insisted, winking at the girl.

  Katherine squeezed her granddaughter’s hand. “That makes it even more lovely.”r />
  They walked together back down Main Street toward String Fever since Brodie’s minivan was parked behind the store.

  Evie already thought the summer crowds were beginning to thin. Traffic seemed more manageable and the crowds on the sidewalk a little more sparse. This weekend was Labor Day and after that, Hope’s Crossing would enjoy about two months of quiet before the winter ski crowds descended. Though she’d only been in town a year, Evie had learned she loved the shoulder seasons, when the year-round residents had the town to themselves, for the most part.

  After saying goodbye to Katherine, Evie quickly helped Taryn into the van and began the short drive up the hill toward Brodie’s house. Taryn didn’t say much as they drove, she merely continued gazing out the window of the van.

  Had lunch pushed her too much? She had seemed fine at the bead store but when they’d gone to the café, she had grown withdrawn and had barely spoken.

  Evie tried a few more times to make conversation but Taryn didn’t seem to want to talk. At the house, Evie pushed the wheelchair out of the van, trying her best to remain cheerful in the face of this brick wall. “Talking about the game system at lunch today reminded me we haven’t played tennis for a while. Feel like a game?”

  “I’m too tired,” Taryn said, the words clipped.

  “Okay.” Evie worked to keep her tone agreeable. “I don’t blame you. It’s been a big day already and you’ve worked very hard. Why don’t you rest for a while and we’ll see how you feel a little later?”

  “I don’t want to play. You should go home.”

  Evie blinked. This was more like the Taryn of a few weeks ago. “Not yet. I still have plenty to do, writing out my treatment notes and making sure everything will be organized next week for Stephanie.”

  “Just go home,” Taryn said. “I don’t want to work more today.”

  “Are you sure?” She frowned. “I’ve only got a partial day tomorrow, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember. I’m not…retarded!”

  Evie straightened. “I know you’re not. Which means you should remember I don’t like that particular word.”

  “I…don’t care…what you like.”

  Taryn’s features suddenly seemed florid, unhealthy. Perhaps Evie had pushed her too hard today. A quiet afternoon wasn’t necessarily a bad idea, she decided.

  “I guess it’s good you’re only stuck with me for a few more days then, isn’t it?”

  “Yes!”

  Taryn struggled to wheel herself through her doorway and then she slammed the door behind her. If she hadn’t glimpsed the misery in the girl’s eyes or felt such sympathy for her that she couldn’t stomp off in the middle of an argument like a normal teenage girl, Evie might have been upset and angry herself.

  As things stood, it took a tremendous degree of effort not to follow after the girl, wrap her in her arms and whisper that everything would work out. Soon she would be herself again and this time of struggle would just be a bad dream.

  To her deep regret, that was a promise she couldn’t make.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TARYN’S MOOD WAS EVEN MORE prickly the next day. She refused to cooperate with any of the therapy activities, rolling her eyes or looking away or slumping in her chair when Evie tried to help her stand.

  By early afternoon, Evie’s nerves were frayed and she was praying hard for patience to endure another hour, when she would be leaving early to set up for the arts festival in Crested Butte.

  “Why isn’t Charlie here?” Taryn demanded as they worked with five-pound free weights to tone her weak muscles.

  Evie frowned, wondering if Taryn’s medications might be affecting her short-term memory or if perhaps she might be having miniseizures. They’d talked about Charlie twice already that morning. She was positive of it.

  Maybe Taryn was selectively ignoring her…or maybe Evie was the one having short-term memory problems.

  “He has a court appearance tomorrow, remember? He told us he wouldn’t be able to come today because he would be meeting with his attorneys.”

  “He should be here.”

  “I’m sure he would agree. Even with your bad mood, I imagine he would much rather be here than sitting with a bunch of lawyers.”

  “I’m not…in a bad mood.” Taryn glared. “Therapy is just…boring and stupid. So are you.”

  She sounded as petulant as a four-year-old in need of a nap and Evie had to choke down the urge to tell her so. “Harsh,” she said instead, mustering a calm smile. “And all this time I thought we were having so much fun today. That’s it. Now give me three more biceps curls.”

  “None of this is fun. I hate it!” With more strength and energy than she’d shown all day, Taryn threw the free weight as hard as she could muster. Evie didn’t have a chance for evasive action. The weight hit the side of her face and glanced off, landing on her shoulder before toppling to the floor.

  Pain rocketed through her and she staggered backward a step or two, strangely aware as she tried to see past her graying vision that Jacques had moved protectively in front of her, even though he adored Taryn.

  “Whoa!”

  She heard Brodie’s exclamation from the doorway but couldn’t seem to make her neck muscles cooperate so she could turn toward him.

  “Tell me that was an accident,” he growled, moving into her field of vision, which was still hazy from the pain.

  “Therapy is stupid and boring.” Taryn jutted out her jaw. “I’m so…sick of it.”

  Evie managed to catch her breath as the pain dulled from that first rip-out-your-guts intensity to a steady owwww. She wasn’t sure which hurt worse, her face or her shoulder. She was in for some very lovely bruises, no doubt.

  She didn’t worry too much about the shoulder but she was facing four days of interacting with customers at the art show in Crested Butte, and she really didn’t want to show up in the String Fever booth at the festival looking as if she had just lost the battle for the women’s featherweight world title.

  When she pressed a hand to her face, her fingers came away covered in blood. Though it wasn’t sharp, the impact of the weight striking must have torn the skin on her cheekbone. She would be lucky to emerge without a broken bone or two.

  She had never seen Brodie so angry. His features were tight, tense, and his eyes glittered with heat. “I don’t care how boring you might find it,” he snapped at his daughter. “That doesn’t give you any right to be hurtful to someone who’s only trying to help you.”

  “She’s mean. She makes me…work too hard. I hate her!”

  The words stung even more than her physical pain. While she accepted that she could never be best friends with her clients by the very nature of their relationship, she thought things had been better between her and Taryn. Barring the last few days, anyway.

  “A month ago, you couldn’t stand up or put an entire sentence together,” Brodie said. “Look at you now. You can thank Evie for that.”

  Taryn’s jaw firmed with stubbornness to match her father’s. “Not Evie. I’m doing…all the work.”

  Evie could see Brodie readying an argument and she stepped forward to head him off. “You have been working very hard, Taryn. That’s not what your dad is saying. I think we’re both tired and out of sorts and in need of a break. I’ll be leaving early today and then you’ll have the long weekend to work a reduced therapy schedule with the home-health staff, and then Tuesday after Labor Day, Stephanie will be taking over.”

  “I hope she’s not…a bitch, too.”

  “Knock it off. Right now.” Brodie glowered at his daughter. “You love Evie. You told me so the other night.”

  “It’s okay,” Evie said, her voice low. She wouldn’t let either of them see how the words hurt.

  “No, it’s not.” He turned back to his daughter. “You’ve had a rough break, Taryn. We all know that, just like we know what a hard road you’ve had to walk to find your way back to where you are now. But just because you’ve had crap happen to you
, that doesn’t give you the right to take your frustration and pain out on someone else, especially someone who’s only trying to help you. Apologize right now, both for throwing a temper tantrum that hurt Evie and for being rude.”

  She glared right back at him. “Or what? I’ll have to stay here…with no friends and…do therapy all day?”

  For a moment, Brodie looked as if he didn’t quite know how to respond but then he frowned. “If you hate therapy so much, fine. We can stop it altogether. You want to stay where you are right now? Let’s do it. Evie, don’t worry about coming back next week. I’ll call Stephanie and tell her to forget the whole thing. We don’t need her anymore. Taryn thinks she’s done with therapy. She’s progressed as far as she wants to go.”

  Taryn looked down at her hands. “That’s…not what I want.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was small, her words more slurred and soft-edged than they’d been in a while. All the fight seemed to squeeze out of her and she slumped in her chair. “I don’t hate therapy. Or Evie.”

  Though her face was throbbing and blood was probably dripping all over her favorite blue T-shirt, Evie stepped forward and ran her hand down Taryn’s hair. “I know, honey. I know.”

  Taryn sniffled and turned her face into Evie’s hand. Startled, Evie’s gaze met Brodie’s and she found him watching the two of them, his gaze arrested.

  She drew a shaky breath, with an odd sense of monumental, profound shaking and settling inside her. She had seen grainy old photographs once of a dam break years ago, not far from here, and that was how she felt right now, as if every emotion she had been trying to hold back had found first one tiny break in the wall to leak through, and then another and another until she was now awash with emotions, tenderness not only for this girl who had endured far too much but for Brodie, strong and protective and concerned for his child above all else.

  “I’m sorry. I’m…a brat.”

  “Yeah. Sometimes.” She managed a smile to take the sting from her words. “I’m afraid I can be a bit of a drill sergeant. I like to see you making progress and sometimes I forget how hard-fought that progress can be.”