The Girl in the Mist: A Misted Pines Novel

by Ashley, Kristen

  When I caught his eyes, he jerked his head in a backward motion, indicating Celeste’s door across the hall.

  Also indicating I needed to get on that.

  “Joey” ended, and it started again.

  Yes.

  I needed to get on that.

  I nodded.

  Bohannan sent me a neutral look that had nuances of relieved and grateful before he disappeared from my doorway.

  I knew precisely what was happening.

  When spring break rolled around, Bohannan and I felt it necessary to take a break and give Celeste a fun week. Of the same mind, the twins had booked their own getaway down in Mexico.

  However, Bohannan had rented two bungalows that were situated next to each other on Turks and Caicos.

  We let Celeste bring her friend Phoebe and gave them their own space so they could have a modicum of being free and breezy and unincumbered in the sand and sun, but still under Bohannan’s oversight.

  Frolicking in the tropics with the concomitant attention a beautiful girl got from young men her age (and not her age, which was gross, and made it good Bohannan was so adept with a glower) set Celeste to understanding something.

  She liked Will, very much.

  But he needed her more than she needed him, and that kind of imbalance in a relationship, unless it eventually righted itself, could be smothering.

  She was young, and even though much that happened in her life (and not only what had happened most recently) made it so she’d probably never be truly carefree, sometimes she had to feel that feeling.

  Will was young too, but old enough to know that the behaviors of his mother and father were inexcusable. Therefore, he didn’t excuse them.

  This left him with a dead sister he’d adored, fatally selfish parents, and as such, he was nursing a healthy dose of growing cynicism, justified righteousness and a fierce protective streak.

  Which, for a seventeen-year-old, could be a drag (yes, she’d had her birthday in February, yes, I’d spoiled her once again, and yes, this time Bohannan made clear in a way I thought he might mean it (still, I’d probably test it) we needed gift-giving budgets).

  However, she had a kind and generous heart, and she knew it would destroy Will if she broke up with him.

  But she wanted to break up with him.

  Bohannan had been right with his head jerk.

  I needed to deal with this.

  I needed to, in order to let Celeste off the hook and guide her through something that anyone with a soul found hard to do: breaking a heart.

  And I needed to do it because I was done with my book.

  I was giving myself a short break and the next week, Bohannan and I were heading to Paris for two weeks. The second of which, Joan and Camille would meet us, and we’d stay in my apartment and enjoy each other’s company and the greatest city in the world (in my opinion).

  Bohannan and I were going from there to Cornwall to hole up in my cottage.

  There, I was going to dig into my Lange novel, and he was going to figure out if he could work remotely from England. This along with giving a series of lectures through England, Scotland and Wales.

  In total, we were set to be gone for three months with the boys in charge of Celeste.

  I had doubts about this, considering they were already enjoying giving her crap about the fact they were literally going to be the boss of her.

  That said, her school year would end somewhere in the middle of month two of this sojourn, and she was coming out to be with us.

  But that meant a near two-month gap, and this had to be dealt with before we left.

  I got up and went to her room.

  I knocked softly.

  Nothing.

  I knocked a bit louder.

  A few beats passed and then “Joey” cut off.

  “Yeah?” she called.

  I opened the door and poked my head around. “Hey.”

  She was on her belly on a diagonal across the corner of her bed, feet hanging over one side, head and arms hanging over the end.

  Other than that, she was doing nothing. Not reading a book that was laid out on the floor. Her phone wasn’t there. Nor were her laptop or tablet.

  Indication this wasn’t a mood.

  It was a mood.

  I slid fully in and closed the door.

  “Can we talk?”

  “I gotta get ready. Will’s coming to get me in an hour.”

  I moved to her and then dropped to cross-legged on the floor in front of her.

  “Will’s what I want to talk about.

  She pushed back and got up on her forearms, starting, “Delly—”

  “Hear me out.”

  “I’m scared of what you’re gonna say.”

  “Why?”

  She didn’t have an answer to that.

  Which was the answer to that.

  So I told her, “You know why.”

  “I love him.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  She turned her head away.

  I pushed it.

  “Can you not wait to see him? Hear from him? Get a text from him? When you connect with him, do you feel something in you shift, like you feel right? Like you have what you want? Like you were good, great, whole, but it just got better?”

  She looked at me again.

  “Is that how you feel with Dad?”

  I nodded.

  She appeared to be mulling something over, and then she said, “Okay, this is gonna sound stupid.”

  “Nothing sounds stupid.”

  “People your age don’t get stuff like this.”

  I was wrong.

  That sounded a tad bit stupid.

  I caught the inside of my lip with my teeth in order to assist myself not to respond.

  “I mean, it’s not bad, but you’re conditioned from your generation to want stuff like that.”

  I responded to that.

  “Stuff like what?”

  “Okay. God!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I don’t know.”

  After she said that, she pushed up and rearranged herself so she too was sitting cross-legged, but on her bed.

  “Okay, Dad is like…a guy,” she began. “And Jace and Jess are like…guys. And there are girls who like guys like that.”

  I took a stab at a guess as to what she might be talking about.

  I had noted the variety of vehicles coming and going up to the houses on either side of the lake the last few months.

  I had no idea if it was the proximity or the circumstances that led Jace and Jess to keeping a lid on their dating lives.

  But now that they had their own spaces, and the parking for those spaces wasn’t next to where their dad and sister lived, that lid had been torn off.

  I wasn’t nosy.

  You just couldn’t miss it.

  So they were now fully free to be…

  Guys.

  Though, I had no idea what this might have to do with Will, who was devoted to only one girl.

  So was, to my great fortune, her father.

  “I’m not supposed to like guys like that,” she concluded.

  “Because…?”

  I really didn’t know how to finish that, because I didn’t know what she was saying, because it was totally okay for her father to have a woman in his life and her brothers to be dating.

  Or was it that she thought it was unhealthy to feel attracted to men who bore characteristics of her father and brothers?

  “I want to be a stylist because I’m really good at hair. And I love it when I’m finished with someone’s hair, and they like it. They feel pretty.”

  I nodded, pretending I was following her when this new subject meant I wasn’t, but then again, I hadn’t really been following before.

  “But it’s not like being a doctor or an engineer or building bridges or something.”

  “You be what you want to be.”

  “And I want a guy who’s a guy,” she said that like it was a blurt. “And
it isn’t that Will isn’t a guy. He totally is. But he’s just so heavy. And my friends don’t get it, but I see it. For a long time, Dad felt heavy. And then you were around, and he got light. You had that bad guy messing with you, and when I met you, you felt heavy. But when you’re around Dad, you seem light. And you guys were like that even when everything was heavy. That’s what I want. Not just a lot of constant heavy.”

  Now we were getting somewhere.

  She kept giving it to me.

  “And Jace and Jess, they aren’t heavy. They’re funny and goofs, and when they tease, it’s cute, even if it can get annoying. But when it’s important, they’re serious and smart. But they’re not heavy. Or if they are, it doesn’t last like…forever.”

  Yes, we were getting somewhere.

  “It’s good to want that, lovely. That’s what you should be looking for.”

  “But Dad and Jess and Jace are like…” clearly, she was at a loss how to describe it, and continued to be when she finished, “guys.”

  However, I had a feeling I finally understood what she was trying to say.

  And thus, I explained, “There are men who have traditional masculine traits who might not seem overtly sensitive or unassuming, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t. There are men who have those traits who are toxic and domineering, and it’s important to know the difference between having a dominant personality and a domineering one. One is assertive. The other is overbearing.”

  She nodded like she got that.

  So I gave her more.

  “There is nothing wrong at all with wanting to do hair and make women feel pretty. Part of being free to go forward in this world as you want and as who you genuinely are is knowing you can be whatever you want, and it doesn’t matter in the slightest what anyone thinks about it. And there is nothing wrong at all with wanting a strong man in your life who’s confident and decisive. Yes, I understand how it can get confusing. But you can’t buck stereotypes by feeding into them. Not every macho man is a jerk. Some of them are very sensitive. And not every sensitive man is enlightened. Some of them are huge jerks.”

  I grabbed her ankle and gave it a squeeze before I continued.

  “In the end, you have to learn to follow your heart and your gut. If something feels wrong, it’s likely wrong.”

  I gave that a second to sink in, and I carried on.

  “If Will’s too needy, and that feels draining or heavy, and that isn’t shifting, it could be that you can’t give him what he needs. That’s no reflection on you. Right now, his feelings are intense and there are grownups, me included, who have no idea what he needs. Mostly, Will needs to find it for himself, and not expect it from one person. If you want someone who feels less heavy, who makes you feel lighter, then get yourself free so you can find him.”

  “His life is horrible right now,” she whispered. “If I break up with him, everyone is going to think I’m mean.”

  “Everyone isn’t living your life. Everyone isn’t feeling your feelings. What I say next is the most important thing I’ve ever said to you, so please, my lovely, listen to me.”

  I gave that a moment to make sure she was doing that.

  When I saw she was, I presented it to her.

  “You can’t live your life worrying about what everyone thinks. You will never make everyone happy.” I squeezed her ankle again. “The only person you need to make happy in this world is you. Your happiness will give happiness to people who love you. I’m not saying be selfish. I’m not saying you should do whatever you want without considering other people’s feelings or what your actions might mean. I’m saying, learn to know when it’s important. Really important. And make the right decision for you.”

  “Do you think,” she whispered, “it’d be weak that maybe, you know, I can stay with him and then…?” Pause, before, “His parents are totally up his butt. He could ask for a Camaro, and they’d buy it for him. So he’s going to that big hockey camp up in Canada this summer. He’s going to be gone for six weeks. But before that, I’ll be in England with you and Dad. But when I come back, when school starts, I’ll be here, and he’ll be at UW. And maybe, you know, when I’m gone or when he gets back…”

  She let that trail.

  “Will that be the right decision for you?” I asked.

  She bobbed her head. “I think so.”

  Yes, even if she wasn’t in love with him, she loved him.

  “Then I’ll stand by that with you.”

  She didn’t say anything for a bit.

  And then she said, “You’re the best, Delly.”

  I pushed up to my feet, bent in and kissed the top of her head.

  But when she tipped it back to look up at me, I caught her in a gentle hold under her chin.

  “In the meantime, maybe find some time to talk to him. Tell him you’re worried about the heavy. Tell him maybe he should talk to his grandmother about finding someone skilled who can help him alleviate some of it. For him, the bottom line is, he’s not just being moody because he’s feeling like being moody. He’s dealing with some big things. And there are people out there who might be able to help.”

  “Yeah, Camille told me it was high time he found a counselor, and I think the only one he’d listen to about that is me.”

  I adored it that all my girls talked to each other, something they did, even Fenn all the way from Korea.

  “I do believe you love him,” I told her.

  “But I think I get the difference now, Delly.”

  I smiled, let her go, walked out of the room, and felt grateful.

  Because I loved that girl and I had her in my life.

  Also because it had been a while.

  And I hoped to God I was right.

  But it appeared in this teenage-girl thing, I hadn’t lost my touch.

  In other words…

  I still rocked it.

  I might have girls down.

  But it was all-new terrain with boys.

  However, regardless that I’d met them when they were grown men, I completely understood those doting mothers who had trouble not spoiling the crap out of their boys and finding it difficult to let them go.

  I felt this as I stood, glaring in the direction of the log cabin, where Jason was.

  Where he wasn’t was there, with us, even though Bohannan had opened the Crockpot five minutes ago and was breaking up the chicken in preparation to add the spices in step two of three to the enchiladas he was making that night.

  Enchiladas Celeste wouldn’t be eating because she left ten minutes ago for her date with Will.

  Enchiladas Jace and Jess wouldn’t be eating because, after they’d moved, they started cooking for themselves and only came when I demanded their asses on stools at the bar or chairs at the dining room table in The Big House.

  I turned my glare in the direction of Jesse’s house.

  And Bohannan’s voice came at me.

  “Jess isn’t there. He’s camping this weekend with Cynthia.”

  Important to note: I had recently met Cynthia.

  More important to note: I did not like Cynthia.

  First, she made you call her Cynthia.

  Second, she oh-so-totally was a Cynthia.

  And no, until I met Cynthia, I had never had a single problem with any Cynthias.

  It was just Cynthia.

  “And Jace is in town with the guys,” Bohannan went on.

  “Huh,” I said.

  “Huh?” he asked.

  I turned to him. “Huh.”

  He took one look at me, turned his eyes downward and his beard twitched in the direction of the Crockpot.

  “I don’t like Cynthia,” I shared.

  He lifted his head to look at me again but said nothing.

  “She’s not right for him,” I decreed.

  “No, what she is, is a very nice girl who’s into him. He likes her. He digs spending time with her. What she isn’t is you, shoveling shit at him while watching over him like a hawk because you�
�re freaked he’s not dealing with the fact he didn’t make Ray Andrews.”

  And again, but nonverbally this time, Huh.

  Bohannan didn’t need it to be verbal.

  He set aside the red pepper flakes and gave me his whole attention.

  “I didn’t make Ray Andrews. You didn’t make Ray Andrews. And we even suspected him. Jason didn’t. Harry didn’t. Everett didn’t. Ben didn’t. No one made Ray Andrews. His entire existence for the five years he lived in Misted Pines was about us not making him. That whole game was so he could prove that he wouldn’t get made.”

  “I understand that. However, Jess isn’t wise and experienced like you. Maybe he—”

  “This is how you learn,” Bohannan told me. “I had two murders with two entirely different MOs. One was fucked-up carnage, the other was quick and neat and not the slightest bit messy. And I didn’t call there were two killers. I thought it was one trying to throw me off. That was why I was feeling hinky after we got Romano. I’d missed important things. There are times when you nail it. Every facet of it. But they’re rare. It seemed I’d nailed it. My gut told me I didn’t. Because I didn’t. And that was because my profile was off in very important ways.”

  He took a breath, and although I had things I wanted to say to make him feel better about that, he kept going before I had to the chance to say them.

  “Am I thrilled in the end you were running for your life through the woods? Fuck no. But no one else died. And he didn’t get away with it. He confessed everything to you, so he’s going down. This is one of those all’s well that ends well scenarios. You gotta cling to the end being well, or just it being the end, or you shouldn’t be in this business.”

  I loved the guy, but it had to be said he could be annoying when he demonstrated how smart, adjusted, cool, calm and collected he was.

  “So, you’re good with how it all turned out?” I asked, watching him closely.

  “The bad guys are out of commission, so yes. But mostly, I can’t go back and change anything. No one can. It played out the way it played out, and this is the end.”

  Yes, I totally loved the guy, but he was so adjusted, even he didn’t need me.

  “Okay then, I just miss the boys being around for dinner,” I snapped.

  There was a tremor of humor in his voice when he replied, “I’m getting that.”

  “Alice gutted him. Do you think Jess is going to be able to handle it? I asked.