by Norah Wilson
Was he looking for more work? Titus wouldn’t think twice about hiring Sam if he had the work to offer him. The senior Donald Gravelle and his wife Lin had raised a pair of hard-working sons.
“I’ll just tidy up the table,” Ocean said. “Give you two a chance to talk.”
Before she could turn away though, Sam blurted out, “Is it true the Picards are turning this place into a hazardous waste treatment facility?”
Titus blinked. “Where’d you hear that?”
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. “From Donny. He overheard Clay talking about it.”
Titus turned to Ocean. “To you?”
She hesitated. Nodded.
Dammit, that’s what had upset her. That’s why she’d been so quiet since she’d come back from the run into town.
“Sam,” Titus said, “thanks for coming by tonight, and for all your hard work. As for the other—”
“Ah, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“That’s fine. It’s just—we’re keeping the sale close to our vests right now. You understand?”
“I won’t say a word.”
Titus believed him. “Thanks. Drive safe, now. And if I don’t see you again, good luck up north. With everything.”
“Thanks. Good luck to you, too.” Sam gave a very adult-seeming nod and left.
Titus stood there for a moment facing the closed door, his heart racing, fists clenched. It was all he could do to not slam one of those fists into that door.
A hazardous waste treatment facility.
He hadn’t known.
It felt as if the weight of the world were crushing down on him. This was Standish land. His family had worked it, cared for it, nurtured it. This land had taken care of them. Sustained them for more than eighty years. And he’d let it go to someone who was going to desecrate it.
Yeah, yeah, it was his father who’d signed the papers, but in reality, it was Titus himself who was letting the place go. And he’d been so damned anxious to get away that he hadn’t even inquired what the Picards intended to do with it. He’d just assumed they’d build new subdivisions, or maybe exclusive small estates. Apparently he should have asked questions. Deep in his gut, he’d known that. He should have made sure.
It wasn’t just the family, the land. All of Harkness—hell, the whole Prince Region—could be affected by this. The potential for groundwater contamination and Lord knew what else. Oh God, not to mention the soul of the region. This was so wrong for the land.
“Dammit!” His hand hit the door after all. He turned on Ocean. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shook her head. “I…I didn’t want it to matter.”
“But it does matter. You should have told me.”
Silence.
Ocean drew a breath. “It was just a rumor, and I didn’t want it to hold you back. I know what this place means to you and I—”
“What it means to me? What it means? It means backbreaking work that never ends, the same streets and roads. It means never ever finding what lies out there for me. This is my chance to go, and nothing is going to stop me!”
“Nothing should.”
He marked her with a level gaze. “And no one will stop me either.”
Her eyes widened. “You think I’m trying to stop you?”
He didn’t. Not deep down. But he couldn’t help but know that if anyone could stop him, it was Ocean. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d made a mistake, gotten too close, taken things too far. Felt too strongly about this woman beside him. He couldn’t let that happen. So he just held her gaze.
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she said.
“What I know is that we’re done here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Thanks for your help, Ocean.” He knew his words were clipped, flat, cold.
“Titus, I—”
“Done.” He looked away.
Without another word, she moved past him to the door. He couldn’t watch her walk away. Couldn’t. But he heard the footfalls of her booted feet on the barn floor, heard the door open and close.
And then he was alone with his big plans, the whole world before him, and his empty pit of a gut.
Chapter 33
TITUS’S PICKUP was packed, bags loaded in the back of the truck. Last night, unable to sleep, he’d changed the truck’s oil, checked all the fluid levels, checked his tire pressure, and filled the gas tank. His GPS was programmed for the route, a twenty-five-hundred mile trek terminating in Regina, Saskatchewan.
Everything was ready. He was all set—wallet and keys in one pocket, fully charged cell phone in the other. It was almost time.
He went to the sink, rinsed out his coffee mug, and dried it with the fresh tea towel hanging from the oven door, then set the HARKNESS HIGH ’13 mug—a small thank you gift from the grad class for helping out with Safe Grad—back on the hook below the cupboard. For the last time. The cup swayed slightly on the tiny gold-colored hook. He watched till it stopped.
Leaning on the cupboard, he crossed his arms and looked around the old kitchen. His father had finished packing up the Christmas dishes. The bare china cabinet stared back. Scott had moved the carefully-packed box out into the covered back porch. Quite a few boxes were stacked there now, ready to go either to storage, with Arden to Blue Breezes, to charity, or elsewhere. The dishes were Ember’s. That particular box sat with others at the back of the porch marked with a big red E on all four sides.
Ember.
Titus wished he could have seen his sister before he left. Before…everything. Wished she could have been here for the last holiday dinner at the house. But most of all, he wished he could have had the chance to explain to her, in person, why he was doing what he had to do. Finally, doing what he wanted to do. While he could. While everything he wanted was somewhere out there.
Then maybe Ember could explain it back to him.
He shoved that thought back down and went back to worrying about his sister.
There’d be hell to pay when she finally got home and confronted Scott and their father. It was too bad Titus wasn’t going to be there for that showdown, because there might be a little hell to be paid right back. What the devil had she been doing with Jace Picard all this while?
Titus heard the muted gush of water in the pipes from upstairs. Both his father and brother were awake and would be down shortly to say their goodbyes. It had been a bit of a late night, with the Standish men talking, laughing, sharing a few belts of scotch, but nothing to keep them abed much past dawn. Not even Scott. To be a farmer was to be an early riser.
But the laughter hadn’t come easy for Titus. His mind had drifted a time or two right inside that glass of scotch. Ocean. What he’d said…how he’d left it.
What he was leaving.
He turned to the window over the sink with its view of the berry fields. It gave him an odd sense of comfort to see the land set right for winter. Whatever happened to it from here, he’d done the place justice. Ocean had been right to push him on it.
But how much justice would the land get—how right would things be—if what Clay St. James had said was true? That Terry and Jace Picard intended to use the land for a treatment facility for toxic waste?
He’d made some calls. CEO Terry Picard was unavailable for a few days. No one at WRP Holdings was authorized to talk to him, and they’d urged him to leave a voice message which Terry Picard would return next week. Since Titus would be long gone by then, he didn’t see the point in leaving a message.
But holy hell, toxic waste on Standish grounds? Short of a facility to store spent nuclear waste, he couldn’t imagine anything worse.
Dammit again.
He’d known leaving was going to be hard—leaving the farm, the land, his shop, behind. And that was no minor weight on his heart. But there was one thing he hadn’t factored in when he’d gotten that call from the RCMP. And that one thing now weighed heavier than all the rest.
Ocean Siliker.
He felt like crap over the way they’d parted. He’d been an asshole—shocked over what Sam had said. That Ocean hadn’t told him. That she’d think anything could hold him back. Yet he regretted every abrasive, accusatory word he’d thrown at her.
He had picked up the phone no less than a dozen times to call her and apologize, set things right. He had her number memorized by now. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to push send. She probably wouldn’t take his call anyway.
Woof.
At the sound, he turned to see Axl shuffle into the kitchen. With his old head hanging down, he crossed to Titus and sat.
“Hey, fella.”
Axl responded with a lonesome whine. Titus had no doubt the old dog knew he was leaving. Sensed it. Just as he’d sensed when Margaret Standish was on death’s door.
Titus squatted down to scratch Axl’s chest like he liked, and the dog’s cataract-obscured eyes seemed to meet his with deep sadness.
“He’s going to miss you, Son.”
Titus looked up to see his father walking into the kitchen. Arden was showered, shaved, and neatly dressed right down to the black comb in his pocket, but he still looked a little worse for wear this morning.
“I’m going to miss him too.” Titus gave Axl one more good scratch behind the ears, then stood. “I’m just glad you can take him to the new place.”
“Well, you know Faye offered to take him.” Arden went to the stove, hefted the kettle. Judging there to be enough water in it, he put it on the burner. “But even though she’d be good to him, Axl’s part of the family.” He turned the burner on, then leaned against the cupboard. “Then again, Faye’s almost like family…isn’t she?”
Titus shrugged. “I suppose.”
His father drew a deep breath in through his nose and looked at Titus. “Did you get yourself some breakfast?”
He hadn’t. Food was the furthest thing from his mind right now. “I’ll grab a couple muffins when I stop for coffee.”
“I could fry you up some bacon and eggs.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I could go for some bacon and eggs.” Hair damp, towel over shoulder, Scott walked into the kitchen.
Arden smiled. “I’ll get right on that.”
But he didn’t get right on that.
Titus knew he would. In a minute. After Titus had left.
Silence.
Arden extended his hand. “Well, goodbye for now. Take care. We’ll see each other soon. I’m awfully proud of you, Son. And awfully grateful for everything you’ve done.” There wasn’t a tear in the old man’s eyes. In fact, he was pushing a broad smile as he shook Titus’s hand. But that fake smile faltered when Titus pulled his dad to him for a one hell of a hug.
“You deserve this. You deserve every good piece of life you can get your hands on. Don’t ever think differently. It’s your time. You’ve done right by everyone else. Now, go and do right by yourself. Look after yourself.”
“Thank you.” When he released his father, they were both fighting tears. “Bye, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too, Son.” Arden nodded, swallowed. “Geez, I think I forgot to shave,” he said, rubbing a hand across one whiskerless cheek.
He hadn’t, of course; Titus knew a lame excuse to clear out of the room when he heard one. But he said nothing as Arden made his exit, through the living room, up the stairs.
Titus turned to Scott. “Guess this is it for a while, little brother.”
“About time you got your lazy ass out of here.”
“Right, Scrote. I’ll remember that smart-assed comment when—”
“I’m not kidding,” he said, his tone serious. “Yeah, okay, about the lazy part. But it is about time you did what was right for you. You’ve more than earned it.”
Titus cocked an eyebrow.
“I was wrong,” Scott said. “I had no right to give you a hard time over Uncle Arden selling the farm, or anything else. You’re the one who did everything around here all these years. Kept things going. Kept Uncle Arden going after Mom died.” Scott looked away, and Titus knew that for the escape it was, too. Scott still could hardly talk about their mother.
“You’ve more than done your fair share, for the family and for Harkness,” Scott said. “Go out and get what you want. But…”
“But what?”
“Make sure it is what you really want.”
“It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“I know.”
Axl woofed and swung his head toward the door.
“Company coming?” Titus asked.
“Not that I’m expecting.”
Scott was closest to the kitchen door, and he drew back the curtain to look outside. He turned to Titus. “I think someone’s here to see you.”
His brother backed away from the door with a grin, and Titus opened it. He walked out onto the porch steps as Faye Siliker’s red Audi pulled into the yard.
Ocean.
His heart just about leapt out of his chest.
He descended the steps and walked past his truck in the driveway and over to where she’d parked by his empty shop. She got out of the car, tucking an errant strand of long black hair behind her right ear. She looked achingly lovely.
And she was looking at him with those beautiful eyes, so full of mixed emotion.
“Mom said your father had some more papers for me.” Her words were quick.
Titus stopped. “Oh?” It was the first he’d heard of it.
“Some sort of recipe book he found yesterday? Belonged to your grandmother.”
“That?” He smiled. “Dad’s had that all week.”
“Of course he has.” She dipped her head. “I think I’ve been played. My mother obviously wanted an excuse to get me over here to see you. To say goodbye.”
“Well, I’m glad she did,” he said, meaning it.
Her head came up. She drew a deep breath. “Me too.”
“I’m very happy to hear that,” he said gruffly. “I’ve felt like the worse kind of heel about the other night. The way I reacted—”
She shook her head. “No, you were right. I should have told you what I’d heard from Clay. I just…I was afraid it would hold you back. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of you leaving Harkness.”
“I know. And once I cooled down, I realized you were only looking out for me. Maybe some women in your shoes would have used that information, played on my guilt to try to get me to stay. But you didn’t.”
“How could I?” She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I love you too much to ever do that to you.”
Titus stood so still, it was as if the world was moving around him. And yet, the world—the whole world—was standing there so beautifully before him.
“That’s right. I love you,” she said. “I never thought I’d say the words, never thought I’d find the courage. But I had to say it. You’re leaving; I know. You’ll have a wonderful career, a wonderful life, and meet someone who’ll make you forget all about me. I wish you everything in the world. But it’s a new me in town, Titus. A braver me. And one who has to tell you—no matter where my roads lead, or what mountains are there for me to climb, I’m always, always going to love you.”
He gripped her upper arms, but whether to hold her away or haul her close, he didn’t know. “Ocean…”
She went up on tiptoe and kissed him softly, sealing whatever words he might have spoken inside. Then she pulled away.
“Goodbye, Titus. Give ’em hell. Don’t let anything drag you away from what you want.”
He felt like a hammer was pounding away at his chest, and still he couldn’t find his voice.
“It’s okay. Really. We’ll always have Harkness Mountain.” Her tone was teasing, but her voice was thick with unshed tears. “Crooked Man Cave.”
“Thank you, Ocean. For everything. I think that mounta
in—what happened to Lacey up there on my watch—I’m not sure I could be standing here today as I am, ready to leave that behind if it weren’t for you. You saved me.”
“And without you, I don’t think I’d be standing here, ready to write again, ready to face whatever life has in store for me.” She drew a deep breath and let it out. “So I guess we saved each other, huh?”
Titus couldn’t stand it. He had to go, but Jesus H. Christ, it was killing him to leave her.
She wiped away a tear even as she laughed. “Hey, copper, time for you to take off. There might be some moonshiners tearing up The Stretch.”
He couldn’t laugh and had to swallow before he could speak. “Goodbye, Ocean.”
He climbed into the truck, started it and put it in gear. His throat ached. As he started out the long driveway, his heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest.
But on he drove, past the strawberry fields to his left, row upon straw-covered row. And beyond, ever-watching Harkness Mountain. He said a silent thank you to that large, looming presence. His mother’s apple trees. The lawns. The greenhouses and barns, Far South and otherwise. He was leaving it all.
Saying goodbye to his old life so he could move on to the new. The life he’d wanted forever. Yesterday, and every day before that, since he was just a kid.
Then he looked in the rearview mirror, and saw what he was really leaving behind. She stood there looking so lovely, so perfect.
So his.
He slammed the brakes so hard the seatbelt pulled taut against his chest and locked. His knuckles gleamed white on the steering wheel, and his heart pounded like a jackhammer.
He turned his focus again to the road in front of him. A right turn, a few short miles to the highway, then nothing but the future in front of him.
He was ready to go. The truck was packed. Wallet. Keys. Letter from the RCMP. It was there ahead of him—the dream.
Or what his dream had been. What had Scott said? Make sure it’s what you want…
He sat there for a moment.
Then he shoved the truck into reverse. One hand on the wheel, he half turned and backed up the driveway at a speed that would have thrilled a police driving instructor. He came to a dust-churning stop close to Ocean. The vehicle had barely stopped when he put it in park, unsnapped the seatbelt and jumped out. He made a bee-line for her.
