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

by Norah Wilson

  “Right, the baking and talking. What’s that?”

  “You know our camp at Rockland Lake?”

  “You mean the one that wasn’t used for illicit moonshine production?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, that one. Well, Mom’s deeding it over to me. She thinks it would be the perfect place to write. Less than an hour away, still in the Prince Region. And it’s on the grid. It’s small, but for writing…”

  “Sounds great,” he said. “I can just imagine the quiet. The solitude.”

  “I know. Perfect. No Wi-Fi, but that’s okay, too.” she said. “If I need to get connected, I’m less than an hour from Harkness.”

  “That was really great of your mom. You’ll have everything you need. I can see you thriving out there. Writing and thriving.”

  Ocean thought so too. Yet she couldn’t help but feel again that needling concern.

  “Anything wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “When Mom called me home, she said it was because she needed someone around, but we both knew it was more for my benefit than hers. She knew I was floundering. I’d run out of money and inspiration, and she wanted to give me a gracious way out, so I wouldn’t feel like a total failure. But now that I’m here, I can see she’s slowing down. Tiring more easily.”

  Titus leaned on a table and crossed his arms. “Not easy, is it? Seeing them age.”

  “Then she gives me the cottage.” She chewed her lip a moment. “I mean, it wasn’t a total surprise. She always said she’d leave the house to River and the camp to me. But why do it now?”

  “Do you think there’s something wrong with her?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t see her being seriously ill and not telling us. But I’m...concerned. I think she needed me home more than either of us realized.”

  Even as she said the words, Ocean felt a pang of guilt about how she’d behaved since coming home. Taking off up that mountain, leaving her mother to worry. Then letting her mother take care of her afterward, making her hot chocolate and comfort food like Ocean was a teenager nursing a broken heart. Yes, her mother enjoyed the hovering. But there’d be no more of that. She should be waiting on her mother, seeing to her comfort and taking over some of the chores around the house.

  “So you’re definitely staying?”

  What? Her gaze flew to his face, but he seemed to be contemplating his boots.

  She’d already told him she planned to stay, hadn’t she? Was he hoping she’d...what? Follow him? Pain squeezed her heart. She couldn’t leave. At least not now.

  She swallowed “That’s right. I’m staying here in Harkness, taking care of Mom. And writing, of course.”

  He looked up at her and smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in New York, then. Your name written in the lights of Broadway.”

  “Titus, don’t.”

  His brows drew together. “What? You’ll get there.”

  “I fully intend to. But I won’t see you there, will I? You’ll be long gone from my life by then.”

  Silence.

  Good. She preferred that to pretense.

  She glanced away, her gaze again going to the mountain.

  After a few moments had passed, he cleared his throat and said, “Got something for you.”

  She turned back to him in time to see him reach around to his back pocket.

  “Right, the garbage bags.”

  “I might have fibbed about that. There’s a box of trash bags on the shelf behind the counter.” He handed her a thick wad of paper instead.

  A tingle of premonition skittered up her spine. It was clearly a map, tattered and worn at the folds. “What’s this?”

  “A map.”

  “I can see that, but to what?” Then realization dawned. The tingle fizzled. “Oh, I get it. Ha-ha, very funny. It’s another map of Harkness Mountain, to make up for burning the other one up there, the one we traded.”

  “The one you traded.”

  “The one you used to start the fire.”

  “Nope.”

  “You did so! Your tore it up and—”

  “I mean it’s not a map of the trails.”

  She unfolded it part way. The tingle was back, and her pulse had quickened. “So what is it, then?”

  “It’s the map the Lovecraft sisters used to navigate the back roads to the border at night.”

  Her hands stilled. “You’re kidding!”

  He shook his head, grinning. “No, ma’am. I asked Dad about it after you and your mom left last night, wondering if we still had it. I kind of remembered it, but he definitely did. Half an hour later, he found it. My grandmother never threw a thing out.”

  “God bless that woman!” She laughed. “Titus this is fantastic.” With shaking hands, she further unfolded the aged map, and sure enough, the date on the lower left corner read 1922. A chill skittered through her. There was a route marked by a pale red line, and a heart drawn on what she presumed from the topography lines was the mountain, right where the cabin would be. “Is that their route, marked with the red marker?”

  “Not marker,” he corrected, moving closer to look at the map over her shoulder. “That’s lipstick. And yeah, that’s the route. The Xs are places they could safely drive off road and hide in the alders should they need a quick place to hide.”

  “Lipstick?” She looked up at him for confirmation. “That’s just perfect. Perfect!” Her heart thudded with the combination of excitement over the map and his nearness. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

  “It’s the least I could do.” His voice was low and gravelly in her ear. “All this help you’re giving me with the farm, I figure I can help you with your research. That’s the deal, right?”

  “Exactly.” She looked down at the map again. “Can I get a copy made?”

  “Of course. But I can do you one better. Let me take you on a midnight run like the sisters did. We’ll follow the map, take the route. Most of the roads are still there, and passable with four-wheel drive.”

  “Really?” she breathed. “We could do that?”

  “We could totally do that.”

  She looked back down at the map. Part of the route looked as though it went through Standish property and continued through what she thought was crown land. What an opportunity!

  “This is so perfect.” She turned to face him squarely, knowing her gratitude must be shining in her eyes.

  “I thought it might please you.” He touched a lock of her hair, then pulled his hand back. “So, how about tonight, after Thanksgiving dinner?”

  She looked up into his eyes, not sure what was exciting her more—the opportunity to do such amazing research, or the thought of driving around the dark back roads with him.

  She licked suddenly dry lips. “Tonight,” she agreed.

  Chapter 29

  SCOTT LOOKED up through the shining glass as he pressed the small basement window back into place.

  All of Mrs. Siliker’s firewood was in the basement. It had taken him a good chunk of the morning to toss the wood into the cellar through this very window. Again and again, he’d thrown in as much of the coarsely split hardwood as would fit, then gone inside to rank it. The uneven pile he currently teetered on as he replaced the window was the last of it. He’d been tempted to finish stacking the wood first, but the longer that gaping hole stayed open, the greater the chance a field mouse or squirrel would find its way in.

  He removed a hammer from his belt and tap-tapped the window tighter into its frame, then locked it into place with the ancient hook and eye hardware. Carefully, he descended the pile of wood, then crossed the concrete floor to the pegboard by the electrical box. He hung the hammer back in place and turned to contemplate the neatly stacked wood with satisfaction. Then he turned his eye to the pile of unstacked wood.

  Faye Siliker had come out to check on him as he was throwing in the last load. She’d said he could leave it, and she and Ocean would stack it in a few days, after Ocean was done helping Titus at the
farm. “But I don’t want to hurry her away,” she’d hastened to add.

  No, he didn’t imagine she wanted that, after the pains she’d taken to throw Ocean and Titus together.

  Scott knew better than to leave the job unfinished, though. If he left it like this, five minutes after he pulled out of the yard, Mrs. Siliker would climb down those steep steps from the kitchen and rank it herself.

  He grabbed two sizeable chunks of wood and carted them over to the partial rank. As he fit them tightly into place, he felt a little niggle of guilt about not being home, helping Titus with packing up.

  Of course, he was pretty sure Titus was a lot happier having beautiful Ocean Siliker working alongside him instead of his cousin, cleaning out the greenhouse. Scott grinned as he grabbed a couple more sticks and added them to the rank.

  Besides, it wasn’t like he’d had a choice in the matter. He’d been railroaded, no question. So it followed he shouldn’t feel guilty.

  Actually, his theatrics last night notwithstanding, he really didn’t mind being “voluntold” for service. He kind of liked helping out Mrs. S. And the work here would be done in a day or two, after which he’d be working his ass off at the farm.

  Again and again, he moved from pile to rank and back again, falling into a rhythm. Finally, every last stick had been piled and the dirt and shards of bark swept up and discarded.

  He paused a moment to admire the neat, sturdy ranks, then headed for the cellar steps, his mind already leaping to the next job.

  Though Mrs. Siliker hadn’t put it on her to-do list, her back yard really needed a cleanup. Not leaves—they’d been raked up and thrown in the compost heap weeks ago, from the look of things. But there were a lot of branches and debris lying around from the maples and that stand of white birch, courtesy of the weekend’s windstorm. It was maybe the work of an hour to tidy it up, and it would be a pleasure working outdoors. Just as tossing in the wood had been.

  A person just could not get closer to heaven than Harkness, New Brunswick. He firmly believed that. So why the hell was it so impossible for him to stay? It was a paradox he’d long since stopped trying to figure out.

  What you left behind in Montreal…that was pretty close to heaven too.

  Oh, wait—that would be why you pulled out.

  He stopped short of the stairs, not ready to go up just yet. Not with that old, familiar turmoil churning inside.

  The door at the head of the stairs opened, framing Mrs. Siliker. “Scott?”

  He cleared his throat. “All done down here, I was just on my way up, Mrs…um, Faye.”

  Faye. Last night when they’d sat down for pie, she’d told him to call her Faye from now on. That was going to take some getting used to.

  “Good timing, then. I was going to insist you come up and have lunch with me.”

  “Is it that time?” Scott glanced at his watch. It was after one o’clock. His stomach rumbled, right on cue.

  “It is. Come on along, now. I’ve heated up some venison stew.”

  Venison stew? He bounded up the stairs and closed the basement door behind him. The delicious smell of the stew hit him immediately, making his stomach growl again.

  “It’s been forever since I’ve had venison.” Though he’d never been much interested in hunting himself, supplementing the family food supply with wild meat was part of rural life, and the Prince Region teemed with game. And hunters. “Who donated the deer meat?”

  “Dana McDonald. He got a nice twelve-point buck. His wife, Cindy, bless her heart, brought me over a few steaks and some stewing meat.”

  “That was nice of her.”

  She shrugged. “I helped her with a quilt top a while back when she found out her daughter was having twins. I guess she wanted to repay the favor.”

  That didn’t surprise him. Harkness was like that, neighbor helping neighbor. And he was about to reap the benefit of that tradition.

  He looked down at his pitch- and dirt-covered hands. “Where can I wash up?”

  “Down the hall and to the right.”

  Thankfully, she’d laid out some Sunlight bar soap and a rough towel so he wouldn’t have to use the delicate guest towels. A minute later he returned to the kitchen.

  She gestured to a chair and he sat down in front of one of the steaming bowls she’d served up. His mouth watered as the smell of venison, garlic and herbs hit his nostrils, but he didn’t so much as pick up his fork until Faye had settled across from him and unfolded her tidy napkin on her lap.

  He took a bite, savoring the tender meat. “Mmm, this is terrific.”

  “I’m glad you like it, but there’ll be no seconds. You need to save your appetite for the big meal tonight.”

  “Of course, Mrs…er, Faye. Though Uncle Arden will have a long way to go to produce anything that approaches as good as that pumpkin pie you brought over last night.”

  She looked pleased. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “You have no idea how much. Well, what little I had,” he said, trying to look virtuous. “Titus ate most of it.”

  She smiled. “Well, I’m looking forward to dinner tonight, and I know Ocean is too.”

  “Dad’s making an apple pie,” Scott said, forking a tender parsnip.

  Faye snorted. “You mean he’s going downtown to the bakery to fetch one.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. He’s determined to bake one himself.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “He found a ‘no fail’ recipe online last night. Plans to use the Bramleys Mom favored for cooking. Last I saw of him, he was tying one of her aprons on and heading for the pantry.”

  “My, wouldn’t Margaret get a chuckle out of that!”

  Scott swallowed, and he tried real hard not to let his smile drop.

  Yes. Margaret Standish would have gotten a chuckle out of that. His Harkness Mom would have laughed until she doubled over and tears poured down her cheeks if she’d seen her husband rushing around in an apron, shooing people out of his kitchen. Intent on not only baking the pie, but preparing the entire Thanksgiving dinner. While it was true Arden could cook, he couldn’t hold a candle to his late wife. Margaret Standish had been queen of the kitchen in her day.

  “I think you got it all.”

  At Faye’s words, he realized he’d been staring down at his empty dish. He put down his fork. “Sorry, just a little distracted.”

  “You were thinking about your mother.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You know, some of the kids used to say they never got away with a thing in your class because you were psychic. That you had some sort of uncanny ability to know what your students were up to before they had a chance to get up to it.”

  She smiled. “I’m good at reading people.”

  Though the stew was just about the best he’d ever had, it sat like a hard lump in his gut. Even now, it was hard for him to talk about his mother. Losing her.

  Losing his birth parents.

  Death.

  “Margaret was always so proud of you, Scott,” Faye said. “She was so proud of the boy you were when you were growing up, and I know she’d be proud of the man you’ve grown into.”

  Faye’s words made his stomach clench. Made him just a little bit colder.

  “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

  “Bullshit.”

  His eyes widened. “Sorry?”

  “Don’t give me such a pat answer, young Mr.—”

  He grinned. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten the new first name basis rule.

  “Scott,” she corrected, then plowed right on. “You really must know how proud your mother was of you. How strong you were when your parents died in the States, how you looked after your sister, your family.”

  “How I aced all my science classes…”

  Oh, so not.

  “Don’t try to distract me, Scott. You’re going to hear this. Your mother was proud of you, as proud as she was of Ember and Titus.”

  “Really?�
�� He leaned back in his chair, trying to force the tension out of his shoulders. “I can’t imagine she was too proud of the way I left when she was sick.”

  “Even then.” Faye put her fork down. “You did what you had to do. Or felt you had to do. She knew that.”

  Scott nodded. They both let the silent seconds go by. Then she chuckled. “Wonder how Ocean and Titus are making out?”

  He grabbed the subject change with both hands. “Wouldn’t mind being a fly on the nursery wall today, huh?”

  “Funny how things work out.” She said the words without a hint of inflection.

  “Ah, come on, Faye. You did this on purpose.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You think so?”

  “Yeah, I do. You got me over here to get me out of the way. Arden’s cooking dinner in the kitchen. I’m helping you, and those two are alone.” He looked down at his dish again. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Lord, no.” She drew a deep breath and released it on a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure of anything, except that those two are meant for each other. I’m hoping they’ll figure out a way to make it work, given enough time together.”

  “That’d be nice.” Of course, the old girl’s scheme would be a lot more likely to bear fruit if Titus’s other suitor wasn’t the freakin’ RCMP recruiter, waving a get-out-of-Harkness-free card. But what the hell? He was pretty sure neither of them were getting away unscathed, no matter what happened. He sat forward. “You know, Faye, I was thinking I’d clean out the mess of branches the storm left in your yard.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I insist. But I’ll make leisurely work of it. Stretch it out to fill the afternoon. That way, I can come back tomorrow to deal with the storm windows and cleaning out the eaves troughs. I’m thinking I’ll head over right about the time Ocean shows up.”

  She beamed at him. “See? You really are a good man, Scott Standish. Oh, but can I ask you one more favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “Could you drop that turkey I bought over to Slippe House.”

  Slippe House. Scott smiled. Leave it to her to donate the extra turkey to a local charity organization instead of sticking it in her freezer. The kids there would really appreciate it.