by Norah Wilson
“You offered to sell it? Oh, Arden!”
He looked down at his plate. “I’d made him the same proposal before, more than a few times, and he always brushed it off. But—”
“But not this time,” Faye said.
He took another bite of the cake. Chewed, swallowed. “Even after Titus took me up on it, I thought we’d have time. Selling a farming operation like this? I thought it would take months. Years. But Titus found a buyer right away.”
“Who?”
He took another bite of cake to delay answering. She just waited.
“WRP Holdings.”
“Oh, Arden, no. WRP Holdings? The Picards? What was Titus thinking?”
He felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. In the few weeks since the deal had been made, he’d heard more and more bad things about that company, and their new commander-in-chief, Terry Picard.
Sick, he put down his fork. “It was my decision, Faye. And he just wants his chance. His turn.”
“At what?”
“Living, I guess.”
She made no reply, just reached for the pot of well-steeped tea and poured for both of them.
“This place meant the world to the kids when they were younger.” He could feel her studying his face. He grabbed a napkin from the napkin holder—one with a Thanksgiving turkey burned into the wood that Ember had made in grade ten shop class. Where would that go? Where would all the years of memories go?
“Does Ember know?” she asked softly.
“Not yet,” he said. “Losing this land will break her heart.”
“Then don’t lose it.”
He looked at Faye’s eyes—anxious, concerned, beautiful. Hopeful.
But it was too late.
Chapter 9
EMBER TIGHTENED her grip on the wheel. Her muscles were tense from crouching forward, peering through the curtain of rain.
They’d been driving for what seemed like forever, but they hadn’t gotten very far. The rain and wind just would not quit. At times the visibility was so bad, she’d had no choice but to pull over onto the shoulder of the road and hope they didn’t get rear-ended by another motorist.
She risked a quick glance over at Jace. His face was set in grim lines. Though he hadn’t complained, she could tell his ankle was hurting and he had no way to elevate it effectively in the truck.
Yes, truck. They’d taken Ryker’s GMC Sierra pickup, rather than backtrack to get Jace’s vehicle. Ryker had loaned it to Ember for the weekend, saying he’d “make do” with his Infiniti. Yeah, some sacrifice. He loved that little sports car. But without even asking, he’d opened up the truck’s cap, hauled out any tools he’d need over the weekend and tossed her the keys. That’s when the rain had started. Hard. And as they discovered as they made their way south, it didn’t seem about to let up any time soon.
“How’s the ankle?” she asked.
“Fine,” he lied. “How’re your shoulders?”
“Fine.” She forced those shoulders, which she’d unconsciously pulled up around her ears, to relax. Then another gust of wind caught the pickup and she had to fight to keep it between the lines, even at her greatly reduced speed. “Okay, I’m not fine. This is crazy. It’ll take us forever to get there in this storm. I think we should find a motel and get off the road for a while.”
“Agreed.”
Once the decision was made, they passed sign after sign—Closed for the Season. No Vacancy. She was about to suggest they turn around and start back to Harkness when Jace sat up straighter.
“There. That’s what we want.”
Her eyes widened. “The Gnome Sweet Home?”
“Yup.”
She turned her signal light on and braked as they approached the small motel. The tiny front yard was dotted with gnomes—and not just of the ordinary garden variety. There were high-hatted, big bellied Ninjas and dead-eyed zombies out there. Even an Elvis gnome. World’s tackiest motel. She’d heard that the owner received gnomes from all over the world; Ember believed it. And the sign outside it read Closed, like many of the others.
She pulled into the parking lot of the place that had provided fodder for a million jokes over the years, staring in fascination. “I thought this place closed down years ago.”
“It did.”
“Then why are we stopping?”
“The old lady who owns the place still lives here, over the office. Rumor has it that if you’re prepared to pay a premium, she’ll find you a room. Off the books, of course.”
“So, I guess we’re about to test the veracity of that rumor.” She put the vehicle in park and reached for the door release.
“Wait.” He put a hand on her arm to stop her before she could hop out. “I’ll do it.”
She sent him a surprised look. “I don’t mind doing it. Your ankle has to be killing you.”
He cleared his throat. “How do I put this? Rumor also has it that Mrs. Dufour is more receptive to approaches from...um...people of the male persuasion.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to charm her into giving us a room?”
“I’m going to try.”
“Fine. But at least let me get you handier to the door so you don’t have to hop so far.”
She drove right up to the walkway. He climbed out of the truck and hobbled to the office. In just those few seconds, he got soaked. She watched through the passenger window as he rang the bell. A moment later, an old lady appeared. Ember wasn’t close enough to the pair to even try to lip read, but the conversation looked...animated. Finally, ten minutes later, Jace produced his wallet. Five minutes after that, he limped back through the rain, a victorious smile on his face.
“The Picard charm worked, I see,” she said as he climbed into the vehicle.
“She felt sorry for us.” He ran a hand over his wet hair to slick it back off his face. “Officially, she doesn’t have her motel license anymore, but…well, how could she say no to newlyweds?”
“Newlyweds?”
He grinned. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”
She waggled her left hand. “We’re not wearing wedding rings.”
“That’s because we just eloped.”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “Like I’d ever elope!”
He pointed to the end of the row of rooms. “We’ve got room thirteen, around back.”
“Of course. So passers-by don’t figure out she has guests.” She turned the key and the truck roared to life.
“Or anyone remotely connected to the provincial government, the federal tax man, or the hospitality industry in general, I suspect.”
She reversed the truck and headed in the direction he’d indicated, but her mind was racing. How many years had these units stood empty? Would the dust be millimetres thick? The bedding rotting?
She pulled up in front of room thirteen and killed the engine. “Key?” she asked? “I can run ahead and open the door.”
“Don’t have ’em yet. The proprietor, Mrs. Willa Dufour—who incidentally turned eighty-five and a half years old just yesterday, but doesn’t look a day over seventy—is going to meet us here and open it up.”
“Give the newlyweds the grand tour before she turns over the key?”
“Something like that.”
A service door opened and their octogenarian host, clad in an oversized yellow raincoat that reached nearly to her ankles, stepped out into the weather. She was so small, Ember feared the wind might blow her away, but she was obviously stronger than she looked. Also, speedier. She made her way to their unit in no time flat.
Ember hopped out of the truck. She pulled her knapsack easily from behind the seat. His was harder to get out, with that damned briefcase lashed to it. Finally, one knapsack on each shoulder, she closed her door. Jace had climbed out too.
“Hang on a sec while I dump these and I’ll come back to help you.”
He waved her off. “I can make it myself. No need for us both to get soaked. Run for it!”
She dashed for the shelter of the wrap-around veranda. A dripping Jace made his way slowly to her. She winced, imagining how much that ankle must be throbbing after all the abuse it had suffered today.
They’d gone about this all wrong. They should have taken the time to go back for Jace’s vehicle. He could have sat in the back seat with his foot elevated. And they could have gone into the pharmacy in Harkness and rented some crutches. But when Ryker had ferried them to his place on the other side of the river, Jace hadn’t wanted to backtrack and lose time. Letting her own desire for answers get in the way, she’d gone along with him. She shouldn’t have. What kind of doctor was she?
For heaven’s sake, it had been ten years. What difference would a few extra hours have made?
Jace made it to the dubious shelter of the narrow veranda at last, just ahead of Mrs. Dufour.
“Hello again, young man.” The tiny woman looked Ember over. “And this must be your bride?”
“That’s me.” Ember forced a smile. “Thank you for renting us the room. We weren’t looking forward to driving any further.”
“I could hardly turn a new couple like you away, could I? It’s raining pitchforks out here.” She produced a key with a fluorescent red tag and opened the door, then led them into the room.
Ember put their knapsacks down on the threadbare carpet and looked around. It was no Hyatt Regency, that was for sure. But they were lucky to get anything.
She’d planned on them taking a room from the get-go, of course. She just thought they’d be closer to Crandler before they pulled off the highway.
And no, not for romantic reasons. For medical reasons. Jace needed to elevate that ankle. God only knew how long it would take to find Bridget Northrup, once they got started. It was the long weekend. She might not even be in town. Knowing Jace, he’d be on his feet the whole while if she didn’t force him to stop and rest. Yes, he was making progress, but anti-inflammatories and the pressure bandage could only do so much, especially when he insisted on putting weight on it like he had just now. Rest and elevation were critical in these first few days or his Grade 1 sprain might graduate to a Grade 2, leaving the ligaments loose. He might wind up needing an air cast or a splint to stabilize it if he didn’t take care of it now.
That was the reason—the only reason—she’d planned on taking a room.
She chewed her lip. He had kissed her back at the camp. And she’d kissed him right back. Which had to be the worst idea she’d had in...ever. Then he’d pulled away suddenly, completely. As if someone else had entered the room. Or some memory had.
“So what do you think, dear? Will this do?”
Mrs. Dufour’s words pulled Ember back to the present.
“Oh yes. It’s lovely.”
The old lady cackled, then coughed, an unmistakable smoker’s cough that went on and on.
“Oh, honey,” she said, when she’d recovered, “even in its prime, I don’t know that this place was ever lovely. But the last time I checked the hot water still worked.” She moved further into the room. “Mind you that was a while ago. You might want to run it a while before you use it.”
The old woman hit the switch on the wall.
“Oh good,” she said. “Lights work.”
Ember looked up at the single glowing bulb behind the dingy amber shade.
“Of course, the power could well go out in this wind.” She fished in the pocket of her oversized raincoat and pulled out a flashlight which she handed to Ember. “Figured you should have one of these in case we lose our lights.” She winked. “We could lose our heat too, but I don’t expect that’ll be a problem for you young ’uns.”
“Yes. I mean, no. Not a problem.”
Jace grinned, clearly enjoying Ember’s discomfort.
“Well, I guess you’ve got everything you need, then.” She headed toward the door. “Oh, there’s no phone in these rooms anymore. Actually, I pulled them out long before they closed me—I mean, before I closed down. One less thing to worry about. But if you need anything, you just jog right up to the house. I sleep like a cat. I’ll hear you before you knock on the door.”
“Thank you.” Ember’s gaze went around the room again. The decor was dated but scrupulously clean. It had just one bed—a queen, thank God. Hopefully the bedding would be as fresh as the rest of the room. Two narrow, hard-backed orange chairs sat in the corners. The television was one of the old, bulky CRT types, and an old VHS player and huge remote sat next to it on the room’s lone dresser, a piece of furniture that looked straight out of the eighties.
“The TV works. So does the VCR, but there’s no cable,” Mrs. Dufour said, her hand on the doorknob. “There are plenty of movies in the top drawer, though. And if nothing there catches your fancy, feel free to come up to the office. I’ve got lots more up there.”
Oh God, no cable? VHS movies? If that was the case, it was a pretty safe bet there was no Wi-Fi. For Mrs. Dufour’s benefit, she hid her dismay behind a bright smile. “It’ll do wonderfully.” She linked her arm in Jace’s. “My husband and I are so grateful to have a place to stay.”
Mrs. Dufour looked pleased. “Happy to be able to help, especially for a pair like you. Easy to see you’re in love.”
Ember had to clear her throat before she could reply. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Dufour.”
“Yes, we appreciate you opening the place for us.” Jace cast a look at Ember. “My wife and I will be quite comfortable here.”
Mrs. Dufour was hardly out the door when Ember pulled away from Jace and went to the window. “Let’s get some light in here.”
The curtains rattled along the metal rod as she pulled the drawstring.
Room thirteen faced the Prince River. As rough and choppy as conditions had been this morning, they were much worse now, the wind churning the swollen river into endless whitecaps. She was glad she’d arranged the early dawn transport with Ryker. No way would she want to be out on that water now.
She thought of Titus and Ocean up on Harkness Mountain. She hoped they were all right. Dry at least. Hopefully they were holed up at the camp or the cave. If anyone could handle whatever the mountain dished out, Titus could.
The wind gusted, shaking the building and rattling the glass in its frame. Brrr. Temperature wise, it wasn’t especially cold for October, but if a body got wet with that wind out there, it would be hypothermia city.
Come to think of it, it was pretty darned cold inside.
On cue, she heard the tink tink tink in the water pipes. Mrs. Dufour had left just enough heat on in these units to keep the pipes from freezing. Ember located the thermostat beside the door and cranked it up some. The tinking noise accelerated.
When she turned back around, Jace was sitting on the foot of the bed shivering.
“Crap!” She moved quickly to his side. “What was I thinking? You need to get out of those wet clothes and under the blankets. It’ll likely be an hour or more before this room warms up.”
“I’m all right.”
“No, you’re not. You’re freezing. That ankle needs to be elevated, and you can’t lie down on the bed in those wet clothes.”
He muttered something, but he removed his soggy jacket and handed it to her. “Satisfied?”
“Now the boots and jeans.” When he hesitated, she blew out an exasperated breath. “Jace, I’m a doctor. I’m not going to swoon at the sight of your naked legs. And the sooner you’re out of those wet clothes, the sooner we can get on with treating your ankle.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”
“Pretty much every day since I learned to talk. Now get on with it.”
He snorted, but stood up, released his belt, unzipped the jeans and pushed them down his thighs before sitting again. She knelt to remove his hiking shoes, then helped ease the jeans off, taking care with the injured foot. He shivered again.
She stood. “Can I get you to stand up one more time before we get you settled?”
He pushed to his feet again and she
pulled the heavy coverlet off the bed. She handed it to him. “Wrap this around yourself and we’ll get you settled on the bed. That way, I’ll still be able to get at your ankle while you warm up.”
When he’d wrapped the blanket around him, she guided him to the side of the bed. He looked a little grey around the gills as he sat down.
“On the count of three, I’ll help you lift your legs. You pivot and lie back. Got it?”
He nodded.
She grasped his lower legs and on the count of three, got him horizontal.
“Now, let’s get that foot elevated.”
She went to the tiny closet and found one extra pillow. She used it and the one from her side of the bed to elevate his injured ankle. She wished she had ice, but just rest and elevation would make a big difference.
“How’s the wrap job feel? Not too tight.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. But is it time for another dose of something?”
That was about as close as he was going to come to admitting how much pain he was in, she supposed. She checked her watch. It was closer to two hours than three since he’d had the ibuprofen, but still a safe interval from his last dose. And maybe he could get off to sleep for a while. “You can have another dose of Tylenol now.” She went to her knapsack, dug out the extra-strength Tylenol and a bottle of water.
He held out his hand for the pills and tossed them back, then accepted the water to wash them down with. He handed the half-full bottle back to her.
“I wish that were coffee. I’d have drained it.”
“Would you like me to go see if Mrs. Dufour can scare up some coffee?”
“Nah. I’ll be all right.”
“You should sleep anyway, if you can.” She adjusted the coverlet, tucking it loosely around his elevated foot.
“I feel like a caterpillar.”
She grinned. “You look more like a burrito.”
“I like my image better. Caterpillars turn into beautiful butterflies. We all know what burritos turn into.”
She snorted a laugh. “True.”
Taking the two chairs from the corner, she positioned them in front of the heater, then fetched his wet clothes and arranged them over the chairs’ backs.
