A Fall from Yesterday: A Hearts of Harkness Romance (The Standish Clan Book 1)

by Norah Wilson

  “No.” He stepped closer, laying those big, warm hands on her shoulders. “Let’s do it for us. For you and me.”

  And Lacey’s words sighed through her head. “Atta girl, Osch. Atta girl!”

  “Yes,” she said. “For you…and me.”

  Chapter 23

  FOR MOST hikers, the climb from Crooked Man Cave up to White Crow Cliff was a challenging one. It took a certain amount of physical strength and stamina, and careful, deliberate attention. Titus had never had a problem with it, even before he started with the strength training. He’d made the ascent countless times, from adolescence. But this time, it took a different kind of strength.

  This marked the first time he’d tackled the climb since Lacey Douglas died there. From that day, he’d lived in dread of getting a call that someone else needed to be helped down from that cliff.

  He’d climbed to Crooked Man Cave plenty of times since the tragedy with Lacey five years ago. When he’d hiked up to check the cabin six weeks ago, he’d come here. It was his yearly ritual. His penance, rain or shine. Self-imposed as it was. He would tell his father that he was coming to check on the cabin. And he always did, but then he’d go on up to the cave. He’d spend the night there. He’d set a fire in the grill, crack open a bitter, and gaze at that cliff from dusk till dawn. Remembering. Agonizing over his failure. Praying he’d never have to set foot on White Crow again.

  But this morning it had been different. This morning, he’d woken up with Ocean Siliker in his arms. And that was about as close to right as his life had been in a very long time.

  Now they were mere meters away from the top—the hardest part of the climb, with steep rock and narrow handholds between them and the summit. Because of the way the cliff was naturally tiered with wide ledges, it wasn’t a climb that necessarily required ropes and harnesses. If you slipped, you never had far to fall. To seriously hurt yourself, you’d pretty much have to hurl yourself outward to clear at least one of the ledges below.

  Or roll off a ledge during a seizure when you were helpless to control your fall or protect your head, as Lacey had probably done. Of course, even falling on a sidewalk could crack your skull if you had no conscious control.

  But while the climb didn’t require serious mountaineering skills, it did require fortitude. Determination.

  Its own kind of courage.

  And they’d almost made it.

  Beside him, Ocean drew a deep, shaky breath.

  “Are you okay?” Titus asked, concerned. “Is your side—?”

  She waved off his worries. “I’m fine. I just need a minute to catch my breath.” She slipped her much-lightened pack onto the ground. “This last part looks hard.”

  “It is. It’s the end of the road.”

  Ocean swallowed. “Yeah. The end of the road.” She turned away from him.

  “The climb back down will be easier. You still have to find your handholds on the steep parts, but it’s so much easier on the muscles and cardio-wise.” And it would be easy. The weather was cooperating. They’d be down the mountain in no time. He looked at her, so lovely in the sunshine. Even in its wild, exuberantly tangled state, her hair gleamed black and glossy as any raven’s wing. Her face was slightly flushed, either from the exertion of the climb, or from contact with his stubble-roughened face last night. That city boy she’d brought home last year probably wouldn’t recognize her.

  Pity the fool.

  When she spoke again, her voice was light. But it was a forced light. “It’s so beautiful up here.”

  He gazed at her. “It’s never been more beautiful.”

  Agony flashed in her eyes. “Don’t, Titus,” she whispered.

  Her words hurt more than they should have. She was right, of course. He had no right to say things like that to her.

  Titus dropped his rucksack. He’d removed much of its contents for the climb, but the pack still hit the rock ledge with a thud. He pulled out a bottle of water and offered it to her. She took it gratefully and drank. When she handed it back, he finished it off, putting the empty container back in his bag.

  Then there was only silence, but it wasn’t an awkward one. Or an awful one. She seemed lost in her thoughts, so he let his own wander for a few minutes while she recovered her wind.

  He inhaled the scents around him. And he breathed in her scent. The shampoo smell of her hair had faded, to be replaced with an earthier smell that was all woman. All Ocean. He put his hands on his hips and turned his face to the sky. Closing his eyes, he stood there, concentrating on the feel of the cool autumn air on his face. But this time he felt something else.

  This time, he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. And, God help him, in his heart.

  “Will you miss it?”

  How long had he been lost in thought? “Miss the mountain?”

  “The mountain. The town. The people. Arden. Your bike shop. The fields and orchards.” She shrugged. “Everything.”

  Everything.

  He allowed himself to consider her words.

  He’d been so focused on getting away, he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on how much he’d miss it. Now, after these days with Ocean, he had something else to miss. Something that might dwarf everything else.

  “Oh, I’m going to miss it, all right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I try not to think about that. Or how much Dad’ll miss me. If I do, I might back out, and I don’t want to do that. I’ve given the farm a decade. That’ll have to be good enough.”

  “Of course it is,” she declared. She turned to him with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye, but it was as forced as the light tone of her voice. “Enough sad talk. What do you say we climb this bitch?”

  He grinned. “Amen to that.” He reached down for Ocean’s bag and handed it to her, then picked up his own.

  When she’d shouldered her pack, he grabbed her hand. He hadn’t meant to. It was just that natural for him. Of course, he had to release it after just a few steps, when the goat path of a “trail” got steeper.

  “You go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you all the way.”

  “That’s right. You promised to keep me safe, didn’t you?”

  “And you promised to stay safe.”

  She smiled. “I think we can manage that together.”

  Ocean climbed on ahead of him. He watched her movements. She planned the placement of her hands and feet. Her reach. It was the last leg, the hardest push, and she took her time. Took care. When at last she scrambled up onto the final ledge—the summit—he wanted to shout a cheer. Instead, he scaled the last stretch quickly and joined her where she stood looking northwest at the patchwork of dark evergreens and bare-limbed hardwoods.

  “So, what do you think of the view?”

  “Pretty fantastic.” She shrugged off her pack again and dropped it to the ground. Then she dragged a hand through her disheveled hair. “And you know what?” She smiled, a genuine one that got wider and wider. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “Good for you.” Titus looked away from her achingly beautiful face, staring blindly over the forest below.

  “And you shouldn’t be either.”

  She touched his hand and he looked down at her.

  “You’ve got to let it go,” she said softly. “I know it’s weighing heavy on you, selling the farm and all that. But you’re right. You’ve given it ten years. No one could ask more.”

  “Somehow I don’t think the community is going to be as generous or understanding.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about them. They’ll come around. Or not. If the new owners are smart, they’ll continue with some of the traditions you’ve established. That’ll build huge community support.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  The sharpness of his tone brought her head up. “What do you mean? How do you know that?”

  “The buyer is WRP Holdings. Somehow, I don’t think they’re planning to go into the agricultural prod
uction business.”

  “WRP? That’s the Picard’s company, isn’t it? That doesn’t sound like Arden selling to those guys. I mean if Wayne Picard were still alive, maybe I could see it. But with Terry at the helm?”

  “That was my doing. Dad said he’d sell if I could find a buyer prepared to meet his price. So I did.” He wanted to scrub a hand over his face, but resisted the urge. It was the words coming out of his mouth that he wanted to scrub away, but he couldn’t. They had to be spoken. “I don’t think he was counting on me finding a buyer so quickly. But when I brought him the offer, he kept his word. He signed the agreement for purchase and sale.”

  “What will they do with the land?”

  He shrugged stiffly. “Develop it, I suppose. That’s mainly what they do, isn’t it? Build subdivisions. Knock down trees, make roads, put in sewer lines.”

  She watched him carefully, as though trying to divine how he felt about the farm giving way to development. He kept his face as impassive as he could.

  “And Scott and Ember don’t know yet?”

  His gut tightened. “We were just sitting down to talk when Dad told us about the search and rescue calls. It seems some poor hiker got lost up on the mountain.”

  She screwed up her face. “Sorry.”

  “I confess, I jumped at the reprieve. It’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to having.”

  “I can understand that.” After a moment, she asked, “What about your dad? Will he keep the house? Did he reserve a parcel so he could stay there?”

  Titus shook his head. “Dad’s going into a seniors’ complex.”

  “A nursing home?”

  “God, no! He’s nowhere near ready for that. He’ll be going into one of those seniors’ apartments on Broad Street, more for the built-in social life than anything. He really doesn’t need any kind of assistance yet.”

  She looked relieved. “Well, that’s not so bad.”

  “I expect all that people are going to see is that I bailed out, forcing my father to sell the farm. They’ll say I put him out to pasture.” He glanced away again, this time in the direction of the farm and the town beyond. “And maybe they’re right. But I need to get out of Harkness while I still can. I can’t let what they think dictate how I live my life.”

  “You’re right,” she said, her own voice sounding a little husky. “And yes, some people will probably think you let your dad down, or let the community down, or whatever. But those are the same people who take everything for granted and don’t appreciate anything until it’s gone. The kind of people who can’t stretch their imaginations far enough to put themselves in someone else’s shoes.”

  He glanced at her, then away again. “You don’t think I’m a bastard for pulling out?”

  “I’d say it’s about time you thought about yourself.”

  That brought his head around. “Really?”

  “Titus, you’ve been saving everyone else your whole life. It’s about time you figured out you had the power to save yourself too.”

  “But I forced this sale. I’m basically putting my father in a seniors’ apartment.”

  “I’m pretty sure that part wasn’t your idea.”

  He shot her a look. “How’d you know that?”

  “I know you, Titus. Besides, with the proceeds from the sale, Arden could easily buy himself another house, if he wanted to. Or build one. A nice, single-level house. Hell, he could have hired Doug Reardon to jack the old farmhouse up and move it to a lot on the edge of town, for that matter. Which means that if Arden is going into an apartment, it had to have been his own idea.”

  “It was.”

  “Well, good for Arden. He must have finally woken up to how much of a sacrifice he’s asked of you over the years.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Wasn’t it? You didn’t leave the province for university—and I know you got scholarships elsewhere. Instead, you stayed in Fredericton where you could be closer to home. You ran that place almost single-handedly while your mother was sick, then for a good while after she died. Meanwhile, Scott took off for parts unknown and just kept wandering, and Ember went off to become a doctor.”

  “I don’t begrudge them,” he said hastily. “Well, not on a good day.”

  “And on a bad day?”

  He grimaced. “Scott peeling out like that kinda ground my gears. It still does sometimes. But I also get it, you know? He was so close to Mom, but he couldn’t stand to see her like that. He only came home once a year, or twice if we were lucky, but he phoned Mom every Sunday, without fail. She loved those calls, loved updating us about where he was and what new job he was doing. No matter how sick or tired she was, those calls always lifted her spirits.”

  “I can imagine.”

  A breeze caught a long strand of hair and swirled it around. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch it.

  “What about Ember?” she asked.

  “She called Mom daily, without fail, and got home to visit more often than Scott. They might not have been here much, but they were a big help in terms of Mom’s mental health.”

  “And your father?”

  “It was really hard for him. He was Mom’s main caregiver. I helped with some stuff—moving her into a chair or back into the bed—but Dad did most of her care. Insisted on it. Toward the end, we had an extra-mural nurse coming a couple of times a week and some sitters for overnights so we could sleep. Eventually, there was an RN there just about all the time.”

  Ocean’s forehead was creased with compassion. “Was your mom at home until the end?”

  “Yeah.” He looked away, trying not to think about those last days, when the morphine finally stole her lucidity.

  “I know it must have been brutal for your father, taking care of Margaret and watching her grow weaker, but after she died? It seems to me he got to check out and spend his days with his memories, while you ran the farm.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “And how would you know that?”

  “My mother,” she said. “She and your dad talk.”

  “Bet they’re talking right now,” he said, hoping to redirect the conversation.

  “Probably,” she conceded. “But Mom has a lot of respect for you, Titus. Not just for keeping the farm going, but the way you managed to keep up the traditions, especially the Christmas party.”

  So much for redirecting. “Ha. You make it sound like I had a choice. I’d have been freakin’ lynched if I cancelled those events.”

  She smiled, as he’d intended her to, but her expression sobered quickly. “Seriously, you have nothing to feel bad about. You’ve carried the Standish family long enough. Done more than was fair of Arden to ask of you.”

  “He didn’t have to ask. I’m the eldest son. It was my duty.”

  “See, there you go. Duty. Responsibility. But you’ve done enough. It’s not wrong or selfish to finally get away, to do what you want to do.” She took his hand. “You can have the future you want, Titus. The life you want. You can and you should.”

  Her eyes shone with honesty, but they also held a fresh sadness he couldn’t bear to look at. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her, tucking her head under his chin.

  “Thank you.” He swallowed down the huge lump of emotion in his throat. “That might be the most generous thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  Chapter 24

  OCEAN LIT an oil lamp and pulled back the curtain on the cabin’s lone window. The place brightened around her.

  They’d taken this detour, of course, so Titus could gather up his tent and some other search and rescue supplies he’d left behind when he’d set out to catch up with her. After their talk on the summit of White Crow Cliff, he’d been quiet. No doubt he was apprehensive about the coming discussion with his siblings.

  Ocean had been quiet too. But it wasn’t a morose, woe-is-me silence. More of a reflective one.

  It had been much quicker hiking down Harkness Mountain than it had been climbing up it
. It was definitely easier on both muscles and cardio. Even her sore side was easing up.

  As for her heart, it had seen lighter days, for sure, but she didn’t regret a thing. Couldn’t regret it. Titus’s training would take him out west, after which he’d be posted God only knew where. It could be years—decades, maybe—before he got back to New Brunswick or to the Prince Region. Of course, maybe Ocean’s circumstances would change eventually, and she wouldn’t need to be here in Harkness anymore.

  Damn, that was a lot of maybes. Maybe by the time the stars did line up, Titus would be married to a pretty woman from Winnipeg or Cold Lake or Iqaluit.

  She knew one thing, though. Unless he shut her down completely, she planned to continue seeing him until he left.

  And this bittersweet ache in her chest wasn’t all for Titus. It was for Lacey too. She was gone. No more giggling voice. No more lilting teasing—Ocean and Titus up a tree. She hadn’t heard her friend’s voice since the cave.

  At one point she’d stopped, closed her eyes and tried to feel something of Lacey around her. Tried to hear her voice in the quiet of the pines. But all she felt was peace.

  Contentment. Love and gratitude for the beautiful, fun-loving, adventurous friend that Lacey had been.

  She peered out the window and smiled. Titus was using the makeshift camping shower. His back was turned to her, the tarp he’d slung up for the sake of modesty covering him from waist to knees. She watched him run the hard bar of laundry soap over his skin, then use it to lather up his hair as best he could. He turned and caught her staring.

  Smiling, he turned the nozzle on the “shower”—a five gallon plastic bucket sprouting a sprinkler head taken from a watering can, strapped on with yards of duct tape—to restart the water flow.

  Shower…surely one of the most beautiful words in the universe. When Titus had offered to rig it up, she’d expressed her undying gratitude with an impulsive kiss.

  He’d returned the kiss, but pulled back quickly. Before he could do what he clearly thought was the honorable thing by injecting distance between them, she’d proposed that they make use of the sturdy old bed.