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

by Norah Wilson

  Was she supposed to tell her mom that she was finally mature enough, free enough, and geographically close enough for a relationship…and Titus was leaving?

  She swallowed. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now, Mom. Not yet.”

  “All right, darling.”

  At her mother’s gentle tone, Ocean looked up to meet eyes that were sympathy-filled and a little sad. Leave it to an old teacher. She’d likely gleaned all she needed to know already from Ocean’s face and posture. Automatically, she sat up straighter.

  “One last question. Are you going to see him again?”

  Ocean leaned forward to put her mug down on the coffee table and picked up her plate from the tray. But instead of taking a bite of her lunch, she set the small plate on her lap. Back there on the mountain, she’d warned Titus she expected to see him every day while he was here. But could she do that? Did she want to? “It’s complicated Mom.”

  “Complicated? What isn’t complicated when it comes to men and women?”

  “I know.” Ocean bit her lip. “It’s just that—”

  “It’s just that Titus Standish is leaving Harkness. Selling the family farm and pulling up stakes. Leaving the region for a good, long time. Finally, getting away.”

  Ocean’s jaw dropped. “You know? I thought...I mean, I sort of gathered from Titus that it was still secret. He hasn’t even had a chance to talk to his siblings yet.”

  “Scott knows.”

  Ocean blinked. “How do you know all that stuff?”

  “Arden told me.”

  Okay, that sort of made sense Arden would tell her mother. Margaret and her mom had been friends forever. Well maybe not forever, but certainly as young mothers, when single mom Faye Siliker had brought her toddler daughters to Harkness, where she’d finally gotten a teaching position. They’d grown to be close friends, and Ocean knew her mom had sat her own share of hours at Margaret’s bedside when she’d been ill. Ocean supposed it made sense that she and Arden would stay friends even after Margaret’s death.

  “Poor Arden,” Ocean said. “I mean, uprooted from the only home he’s ever known. He’s lived there all his life.”

  “Then you blame Titus?”

  Oh God, she so did not. She didn’t blame him for anything. “Of course not. It’s his turn to go off in search of...whatever he’s looking for. And whatever that is, it isn’t here in Harkness.”

  “What about you, Ocean?”

  She looked at her mother. “What do you mean, what about me?”

  “Is whatever you’re looking for in Harkness?” Her mother was smiling. “Or say, slightly outside of Harkness?”

  Slightly outside Harkness? What was she talking about? “As in...what?”

  “As in Rockland Lake.”

  “Our camp?” Ocean put her plate back on the tray.

  “I’ve something to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s finish our lunch and chat over pumpkin pie.”

  No way! She couldn’t make a cryptic comment like that and just leave her hanging. They would talk about this now, not— “Wait...we have pumpkin pie?”

  Her mother grinned. “We will once we make it.”

  “Mom…”

  “Come on, dear, when’s the last time we stormed up the kitchen?” She picked up her beverage—tea with a generous splash of milk—and sipped it. “Humor an old girl.”

  “Old girl?” Ocean snorted. “When did you get old?”

  Her mother grinned. “You got me there.” She put down her tea and picked up her sandwich. “In fact, let’s make a couple pies. One for us and one for some friends.”

  As her mother took a delicate nibble from her fried egg sandwich, Ocean sank back in her own chair, her heart thudding in her chest.

  She had a pretty good idea which friends her mother was talking about.

  Chapter 27

  TITUS AND Scott sat in the kitchen, silent at last. Was it finally over, the grilling? God, Titus hoped so. Surely they’d talked about the sale of the Standish land to the Picards from every possible angle.

  What would happen to the land? The community? Had Titus thought of that? What about Titus’s bike shop in the machine shed? The house? Why hadn’t Titus bothered to call him—or at the very least, Ember—before accepting the offer?

  That last remark had really pissed Titus off. No, it had hurt. Not the suggestion that he should have conferred with them, but that whole “at the very least” part. As if Ember was more of a sibling than Scott was. That wasn’t the way this family worked. Hadn’t been since the day Scott had come to live with them.

  Scott knew better. Or at least he should know better by now.

  Titus rasped a hand over his beard-stubbled chin. He’d been in no mood for this conversation. Knowing Ember was out there somewhere with Jace Picard, the man who’d broken her heart all those years ago, had set his teeth on edge. The fact that Jace was the one Titus had negotiated with for the sale of the land just added insult to injury. Then he’d had to watch Ocean drive away. She’d tried valiantly to be cool about everything that had transpired between them, but she wasn’t a very good liar. As he’d stood there watching Mrs. Siliker’s old Audi turn onto the road and accelerate off, Titus couldn’t figure out if he was the luckiest man in the world for having spent a night in her arms, or the stupidest man in the history of the universe for settling for just that one night.

  Then he’d mentioned he’d be leaving in just over a week to start his training, and it had set off round two. Titus had told his father about his departure date just as soon as he’d gotten the email, the day Scott had arrived. But apparently when their father spilled the beans about the sale, he’d neglected to mention that detail to Scott, who was under the impression Titus would be around until the end of the month, the deadline they’d been given to be out. Eventually, though, his brother had had to concede Titus had no control over the timing. It was either this cadet intake or wait another six months.

  But now, blessedly, there was silence.

  Then Scott shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day when Arden Standish would be going into a home.”

  Okay, they were clearly not done. Not after that verbal punch to the gut.

  “Hey, Dad was the one who found that Blue Breezes place, not me. It was his idea.”

  Scott grunted. “Quite the name for an old folks’ home.”

  Titus leveled a look at his brother. “I told you, it’s not an ‘old folks’ home’ or a nursing home or special care home, or anything like that.”

  Blue Breezes. Christ. No matter how many times he said it out loud, it didn’t get any better. But dammit, it wasn’t a home—it was a retirement community. That’s what the brochure said. With shuffleboard and bingo. Manicured lawns and social rooms. Turkey Dinner Tuesdays and Sing-Along Sundays.

  Arden was going to hate it.

  Fuck.

  “Sorry,” Scott said.

  Scott’s face was expressionless, but Titus knew the struggle going on inside his brother. He wanted to be pissed—hell, he was pissed—but at the same time, didn’t feel he had the right to be, given that he’d left the farm without a backward glance years ago when their mother got sick. A fact Titus had been tempted to throw up in his brother’s face more than once during the discussion.

  “Look, you’ve been holding the fort here…since Mom died.”

  Since Mom died.

  Scott still couldn’t say that without a pause. Titus felt a pang of sympathy. Also relief that he’d bit back those digs about Scott bailing on the family. Christ, maybe he didn’t know half his brother’s struggle.

  “I get it.” Scott cleared his throat. “It’s time you got away. Lived for yourself. I really do get it, and Ember will too.” His jaw tightened. “When she gets home.”

  Neither of them were too happy with Ember. And they were even less happy with Arden. He couldn’t remember the name of the “guy” stuck out at Old Man Picard’s camp? Like hell. No
way he could forget that the man who had the sprained ankle was Jace Picard, his daughter’s first love. He’d deliberately put Ember in Jace’s path. But all his Dad would say on the subject was that it was past time those two talked. And maybe it was.

  “So, yeah, I understand, but if there was another way—”

  Scott’s words were interrupted by a knock at the door.

  Who would knock? They weren’t expecting anyone. Jesus, what if something had happened to Ember? Titus leapt to open the door.

  Scott must have had the same thought, because he was right behind him.

  Titus practically yanked the door open, but it wasn’t an RCMP officer on the porch. It was Faye Siliker. He told his heart it could slow down, but then he noticed Ocean behind her mother with some kind of Tupperware-type container in her hands.

  He stepped back. “Ladies, come on in.”

  “Thank you.” Faye Siliker breezed by like a regal ship under sail, heading straight for the kitchen.

  Ocean moved a little slower. She smiled up at Titus when their eyes met, then carried on after her mother.

  “Well, aren’t you pair a sight for sore eyes,” Scott said, closing the door behind the two women. “I was just sitting here with my butt-ugly cousin, thinking how nice it would be to have some better-looking company. And just like that, here you are.”

  “Nothing has changed, I see,” Faye said. “You’re still an inveterate flirt.”

  “Uh...thank you?”

  Ocean laughed out loud at Scott’s response, and even Titus had to smile.

  Then she looked up at Titus again and seemed to grow flustered. Titus just knew it was all she could do not to bite her lip.

  “We brought you a pie.” She lifted the container higher.

  “Pie?” Scott and Titus spoke at the same time, their voices reverent, and Ocean laughed.

  She was so beautiful. And she was packing pie.

  She stepped forward and set the container on the table, popped the top off and removed the pie.

  “Pumpkin,” Scott breathed.

  “Arden likes pumpkin too, doesn’t he?” Faye asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Titus said. “And I might even leave him a piece. A small one.”

  She chuckled. “Be nice to your father. He’s a good man.”

  Titus knew it. A good man who loved his family and his land and who was heading for Turkey Dinner Tuesday at the Blue Breezes.

  “Where’s Axl?” Faye dug into the bag she carried and pulled out a small re-sealable container, the kind you put leftovers in.

  “We made some beef liver jerky for him,” Ocean explained. She’d always been a dog lover. Titus remembered that now. “Mom and I had a day of cooking.”

  “And talking,” Faye said.

  Ocean drew a deep breath and let it out. “And talking.”

  Talking? About what?

  Titus’s gaze flew to Faye’s face, but her expression was politely composed.

  “Mrs. Siliker, you’re going to spoil that old dog.” Scott glanced at the pie. “And us. But keep it up. Though I don’t know what either of us did to deserve such a treat.” Turning his back to the older woman, he waggled his eye brows at Titus suggestively. Dammit. Titus was going to pummel that boy.

  “Just a neighborly gesture,” Faye said.

  Titus looked at Ocean to see the color rising in her cheeks.

  “Axl is out at the Far South Barn with Dad, Faye,” Titus said. “Scott would be pleased to walk you out there.” It wasn’t a long walk, nor was it rough or hazardous. And Faye Siliker would certainly know the way, after all the holiday dances she’d attended there. But Titus wanted to be alone with Ocean.

  Never slow on the uptake, Scott was already across the room. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Siliker.”

  He extended his elbow and she latched onto it. “That’s a splendid idea. And while we’re walking, we can have a chat about your moral character, young Mr. Standish.”

  He blanched. “My moral character?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “We need to discuss your stretching the truth in our phone conversation of the other night. You remember it, don’t you? The night you called me to tell me Titus was with Ocean. We should talk about how wrong it is to mislead women on such things as her daughter’s suitors, or lack thereof.”

  Titus shot a baffled look at Ocean, who shrugged.

  Scott cleared his throat. “I don’t think I said anything that was really…um...wrong.”

  “Did you not suggest that Ocean and Titus were dating or something? I believe you also suggested I should feel free to rake Titus over the coals.”

  “Oh, that.”

  Titus grinned. So his brother had tried to stir up a little shit for him with their old teacher and it had backfired on him. When would the guy learn?

  “Yes. That.”

  Scott shot a half-serious help me look over her shoulder as she marched him out the door.

  Titus turned to Ocean. “Looks good on him, doesn’t it?”

  She laughed. “Mom is so going to enjoy making him squirm.”

  “It’s like Christmas came early.” He glanced back at the table. “And it came with pie. Join me?”

  Ocean hesitated. Then she shrugged and took her coat off, draping it on the back of a chair. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Tea or coffee?”

  “Tea.”

  “In the pantry, I think. Let me dig it out.”

  “Great. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Titus slipped into the pantry. Arden had to keep tea in here somewhere. He looked around. There. Top shelf, above his beloved dark roast. “We have Earl Grey, decaffeinated green, and something called...um, chickweed.” Titus spoke loudly enough for Ocean to hear him from the kitchen over the sound of the running tap. “Can that be right? Chickweed?”

  “Yeah, chickweed is right. I’d love that, please.”

  He grabbed the slender box and walked back out into the kitchen. Ocean had the kettle on the stove. She took the box from him and inspected it.

  “This is a really good brand,” she said. “It can be hard to get. Mom and I love it.”

  “Dad must have picked it up. Though I’m not sure why. He doesn’t even drink tea.”

  “Huh.” Ocean’s eyebrows drew together. “Maybe he mistook it for something else. Or maybe Ember bought it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So what’s your dad doing out in the Far South Barn? Anything we can help him with?”

  “No. There’s nothing to be done out there. It’s been cleaned out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That doesn’t stop him from hanging around out there, though. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “He’s sold his family’s homestead. He’s probably out there sifting through the memories, watching your mother’s ghost dancing in the dust motes.”

  There wasn’t so much as a hint of reprimand in her words, not the slightest change of tone. But those words slid home like a hot knife thrust between his ribs. With Scott, he’d been on the defensive, braced for verbal jabs. But with Ocean, putting it out there like that—stating it so matter-of-factly, without any judgment... Damn.

  This was their family homestead. Standish grounds. And he’d put his father up to selling it.

  He sighed. “You’re right.”

  Ocean moved to the window over the kitchen sink. As she studied the land outside, he studied her. Her glossy black hair fell halfway down her back, concealing much of it, but the dip of her waist and flare of hips was faithfully outlined by the fine knit of her sweater. Faded jeans cupped her sweet ass and molded her perfect legs. He felt a stir of desire, but mingled with it was a powerful tenderness. How could a woman look so vulnerable and so strong at the same time?

  “It seemed strange, driving up here tonight and seeing the garden plot not plowed for winter. No mouse guards on the young trees in the—”

  “Vole guards,” he said, more sharply than he intended.


  She glanced over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow cocked.

  “Mice don’t girdle trees,” he said, then felt like a jerk for quibbling. “Voles do.”

  “Okay, voles.” She turned back to the window. “And shouldn’t the straw be on the berry plants by now?”

  Titus moved to stand behind her. At this proximity, the scent of her shampoo reached out to him. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never be able to smell that scent and not remember the night at Crooked Man Cave. With effort, he looked away from her gleaming hair and to the landscape beyond. Dusk was closing in, but he could still make out the bare rows in the strawberry fields. They did look forlorn. Accusing, even.

  “Yeah, they’re usually covered by now, but I figured I’d let the new owners worry about that.”

  Still looking out over the fields, Ocean said, “What if they don’t?”

  Titus shrugged. “Then they don’t.”

  She turned to face him. “So you’re just going to let it go to hell?”

  “It’s sold, Ocean. It’ll likely be developed.”

  She held his gaze, her face pale and earnest. “Titus, your family has lived on this land for generations. You told me yourself how much the land meant to your grandparents. This is the very same property Clara Lovecraft bought when she married Edward Standish, with her share of the money earned by those bold, rum-running sisters.” Something seemed to catch fire behind her eyes as she talked. “Just think of it—three fiery women in a fiercely prejudicial male world, out breaking the law, going against society’s expectations. Using their daring spirits, charm, wits—and yes, even their womanly wiles—to persevere. No, to thrive. Climbing a mountain—literally, and figuratively—to make their moonshine by moonlight.”

  “By moonlight?”

  Ocean blinked. She shook her head, as though rattling her thoughts back into place. At least for now. He could see from that light in her eyes that something was churning in there.

  “Okay, I got a little poetic there,” she said. “But you know what I’m saying. You just can’t let this land go to hell. It’s sustained you, your family. It’s kept you safe, fed, warm. You’ve run through the fields and danced in the barn. Your mother made my mother pie from those apple trees every year until she took ill, then my mom made them for her with those same Bramley apples. Titus, you owe something to this land, no matter what the Picards have planned for it.”