One Word

by Anne Barwell

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  More from Anne Barwell

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  Copyright

  One Word

  By Anne Barwell

  A Hidden Places story

  Ethan Leavitt arrives in the idyllic village of Oakwood to search for a missing friend. Having always prided himself on his ability to find rational explanations, Ethan’s trust in concrete evidence and logic is tested by the mystery of Oakwood and Tomas’s disappearance.

  Donovan Campbell’s happy, sometimes flippant, exterior hides a past he’d rather forget. As he struggles with his memories and to hold on to the inn he owns with his best friend, the last thing Donovan needs is for some guy he’s only just met to start getting under his skin. When a bank robbery escalates into a dangerous situation, Donovan must embrace a part of himself he can no longer ignore in order to save a future that might never have the chance to exist.

  Ethan learns that often the person you’re looking for is not the one you find. But have he and Donovan both realized that too late…?

  For Sharon

  Acknowledgments

  TO MY beta readers: Susanne, Reesha, Angela, Sharon, Calli, Lou, Bruce, and Tempe. Thanks for all your support and help with this story.

  To Dreamspinner Press for giving Hidden Places a home, the opportunity to tell this part of the story, and for making me a part of their family.

  To my family: Mum, Amanda, Rebecca, and David. Love you guys.

  And last, but in no way least, to my friends at Upper Hutt Science Fiction Club and Hutt City Libraries.

  Author’s Note

  ALTHOUGH THIS is book three in my Hidden Places series, it takes place during the final six weeks of Cat’s Quill, while Cathal and Tomas are in Naearu. One Word is Donovan and Ethan’s story.

  “One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.”

  —Sophocles

  Prologue

  “HE LOVES you. He’ll say yes.”

  Donovan Campbell snapped shut the small box in his hand. “How long have you been there?” He didn’t bother turning around to talk to the man standing in the doorway behind him. “I thought we talked about this crap before. Eavesdropping on another guy’s emotions is gonna get you into trouble one day.”

  Cathal Emerys poured a cup of coffee and slipped into the seat opposite Donovan. “Long enough, and it’s already got me into trouble. I also don’t need to be able to sense your emotions to notice your nervousness. That box you’re holding is a bit of a giveaway.” He grinned. “Besides, I’m a man of habit, and you know I can never resist a decent cup of coffee, especially this early in the morning.”

  “Yeah, which is why I always make extra.” Donovan shook his head in amusement. He put the box back into his pocket. “Today is our anniversary. Ethan’s and mine, I mean. We met two years ago today.”

  “When Ethan came to Oakwood to look for Tomas?” Cathal nodded. “It seems a lifetime ago. I can’t imagine my life without Tomas now.” He took a sip of his coffee, growing quiet. “I still feel bad about all of that. Of how much we worried everyone. How you thought Tomas was….”

  “In trouble? Or worse?” Donovan finished Cathal’s sentence dryly. “It wasn’t too far off, was it?”

  Tomas Kemp had followed Cathal across a magical portal into another world called Naearu, so intent on finding the man he loved that he hadn’t let anyone know he was doing so. In fairness, he’d found the way through by accident, but still…. His friends and family had been worried and thought the worst when Tomas—and Cathal—had disappeared.

  “No, it wasn’t.” Cathal put his cup down. “In hindsight, I should have trusted you and told you, and Tomas, about what was going on and asked for your help.”

  “We hardly knew each other, and you were trying to keep Tomas safe.” Donovan shrugged. “Besides, the truth is still a stretch. Some days I have trouble believing your world exists, even though I’ve seen enough to know it must be real.”

  Six weeks on Earth roughly equated to only two days in Naearu. Time moved differently there—and inconsistently in relation to Earth—and instead of pursuing science, their society had embraced magic. That magic was one reason why Cathal had the ability to sense emotions, but it also brought with it other complications that weren’t so good.

  Like trying to track down a guy who had spent a year on Earth over ninety years ago. At least by Earth standards. For Cathal it had only been six.

  “People often believe what they need to and ignore what doesn’t fit their view of the world.” Cathal seemed thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve decided it’s better to live in the present than worry about something that might never happen.” He nodded toward the ring case. “Speaking of which…. You should just ask Ethan. He’s already moved into the inn, and he loves you.”

  “I know he loves me.” Donovan had never thought he’d find love again. “I love him too, but getting married is a way bigger step than moving in together.”

  “It’s a good step.” Cathal and Tomas had been married nearly two years now. “You and Ethan are good for each other.”

  “We didn’t see eye to eye when we first met.” Donovan remembered that all too well. By the time they’d both gotten past their issues and admitted their feelings for each other, it had almost been too late.

  Cathal looked up and smiled in the direction of the doorway. “You can come in, love.” He drained his coffee. “I’ll find you a Thermos and fill it with more coffee. I feel like a walk this morning.”

  “Real subtle, Cat,” Donovan muttered. “Hey, Tomas.” There was only one man Cathal called “love,” so it was a safe bet he was talking to Tomas.

  “Donovan.” Tomas walked over to Cathal and kissed the top of his head. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Donovan said.

  “Then why—” Tomas stopped when Cathal jerked his head toward the door. “Oh,” he said. “A walk. What a good idea.”

  “What am I missing?” Ethan Leavitt asked. He ran his hand through sleep-mussed hair as he walked over to Donovan.

  “Nothing yet.” Donovan gave Cathal a glare. “You were tired, so I figured I’d let you sleep.”

  “It sounded—” Tomas started to say.

  Cathal pushed his chair out, wrapped one arm around Tomas, and steered him toward the counter. “Ethan and Donovan need some time alone.” He grabbed a Thermos from the cupboard, filled it with coffee, and headed for the door. “Good morning, Ethan. Talk to you later. Much later.” He mouthed at Donovan, “Ask him,” and then he and Tomas were gone.

  “Cat’s getting about as subtle as Tomas.” Ethan leaned over and gave Donovan a good-morning kiss.

  “Getting?” Donovan snorted. He patted the chair next to his. “Sit down and I’ll make you some tea.”

  “Tell me what’s going on first.” Ethan looked equal parts concerned and amused. “There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Donovan confirmed. He took Ethan’s hand in his. “I was thinking about how we met.”

>   “It’s our anniversary today,” Ethan said.

  “You remembered.”

  “Of course I did, or rather my phone did.”

  “You programmed our anniversary into your phone?”

  “Well, yes. Doesn’t everyone do that?” Ethan had conveniently forgotten he hadn’t done it the year before. He stroked Donovan’s hand, then kissed his fingers. “A lot has happened in the last two years,” he said softly. “And I was remembering how we met too. I had no clue what it would all lead to. I thought I was coming to Oakwood to look for a lost friend, and instead I found so much more….”

  Donovan smiled. “So did I.”

  Chapter 1

  Two Years Ago—Oakwood Railway Station

  THE TRAIN was late.

  Something brushed against his leg. He startled, jerked away, and reached for a weapon he hadn’t carried in years.

  “Meow?”

  The longhaired gray cat met his gaze for a moment before he bent to pat her.

  “Sorry, Thomasina,” he murmured, both embarrassed and horrified he’d momentarily given in to an instinct he’d thought long behind him. “Didn’t see you there.”

  “Train should be along in a few, Mr. Campbell.” Red spoke quietly from behind him. “Lovely autumn day, it is. Why not relax and just enjoy what’s left of the sun? Be the rainy season soon enough, if that storm the other week was anything to go by.”

  “Thanks, Red. The storm was kind of dramatic, wasn’t it? And it’s Donovan. I’ve been here often enough that we can drop the formality, yeah?” Donovan still had no clue why the man had been given that nickname, as his hair was a very unassuming mouse brown, but he didn’t like to ask. The village of Oakwood had plenty of secrets, none of which anyone seemed inclined to share anytime soon.

  Red grinned and tilted his cap. “Come along now, Thomasina. I have a lovely bowl of your favorite food waiting for you in my office.” Although Red worked at the station, Donovan had yet to discover what his job actually was.

  The cat pricked her ears when Red called her and followed him back into the ticket office. Donovan had never been sure whether she’d been named after Thomas the Tank Engine from Awdry’s railway series or the cat from Paul Gallico’s book, although she was the wrong color for the latter. He’d asked once, but Red had neatly sidestepped and avoided giving him an answer. There were far too many locals who had that trait down to an art form.

  It was damn annoying, especially with recent events.

  If Donovan didn’t know better, he’d swear they were doing it on purpose. But then he and Heidi—his longtime friend and co-owner of Crossroads Inn—had only lived in the village for five years, unlike most of the locals, who could trace their families back several generations. Sure, the villagers had been welcoming and all that, but that wasn’t the point. He just wanted somewhere he felt he belonged, and although he loved it here, he wasn’t convinced this was it.

  Thomasina.

  It was, of course, a coincidence that her name wasn’t far off from Tomas’s, the man who was the reason Donovan was waiting at the station in the first place.

  He stepped back from the edge of the platform at the sound of the approaching train. Despite feeling that he’d been waiting for ages, the train was only a few minutes late.

  Several people stepped off the train once it stopped. Sally, who owned the property adjacent to the inn, waved to him, and he waved back, but she didn’t come over to speak to him, instead turning her attention to the man with her. Donovan glanced at him, then dismissed him, as he didn’t fit the description of the man he was looking for.

  Tall, with dark hair.

  Tall, dark, and handsome, his mind helpfully supplied, despite the sparse description Donovan had of the guy.

  It would have made it so much easier if he had a photo. He and Ethan had talked a few times and exchanged emails, but Donovan hadn’t thought of swapping pictures until it was too late. He’d tried to phone Ethan that morning to ask for one, but the call had gone to voicemail.

  Where is he? Donovan turned back toward the station in case he’d missed Ethan when he’d waved at Sally.

  “Donovan Campbell?” A deep voice asked behind him.

  “Yes.” Donovan spun around to face whoever had spoken. “Ethan?”

  Ethan nodded and held out his hand. “Ethan Leavitt,” he confirmed. His grip was firm, but he withdrew his hand quickly after they’d shaken. “I figured as you were the only one on the platform who hadn’t been on the train, there was a good probability it was you.”

  Tall, dark, and handsome hadn’t been too far wrong. The guy had at least an inch on Donovan in height and had intense dark brown eyes. They reminded Donovan of freshly brewed strong coffee—not that he was addicted to the stuff or anything.

  “Darn it,” Ethan said. “I thought I’d got all of that chocolate sauce off.” He scrubbed at his face. “Sorry.”

  “What?” Surely he hadn’t been staring that much? “Oh right. Yeah. Don’t worry, you’ve got it now.” Donovan felt himself blush at the lie. If there had been sauce at the side of Ethan’s mouth, he sure as hell hadn’t noticed it.

  “I hope you haven’t been trying to phone me.” Ethan picked up his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. “I pulled out my mobile to warn you that the train was running late, only to find I’d forgotten to charge it. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Donovan said. At least a dead phone explained why his calls had gone to voicemail. “I haven’t been waiting long.” He bent to pick up Ethan’s second bag, but Ethan beat him to it.

  “I can manage,” Ethan said. “Are you parked close by? I hope it’s not far to this inn of yours.”

  “Not too far,” Donovan said. He hadn’t brought up the subject of Tomas and noticed Ethan hadn’t either. Despite the fact they’d already discussed it on the phone, it was going to be an awkward conversation in person. Tomas hadn’t said much about Ethan, and the man hadn’t been very forthcoming about himself. It would be interesting to hear how Ethan and Tomas had gotten to know each other.

  “This is yours?” Ethan raised one eyebrow when he saw Donovan’s green Morris Minor. He ran his hand over it appreciatively. “It’s well restored. I learned to drive in one of these. Fifties model, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and thanks. I did the work on her myself.” Donovan opened the trunk, and Ethan stowed his bags inside. “You know much about cars?”

  “One of my colleagues at school is a car buff. I’ve picked up a bit listening to him.” Ethan grimaced. “Unfortunately he loves the sound of his own voice, and I’ve had the misfortune of being cornered by him a few times.” He glanced at Donovan. “I’m sure it’s not as boring as he makes it sound. It’s a reflection of the man rather than anything else. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You didn’t.” Donovan shrugged, waited until Ethan had climbed into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt, and then started the car. “I’ve met people like that too. Everything in moderation and all that, and don’t lapse into technobabble in front of the uninitiated.”

  The side of Ethan’s mouth twitched. “Uh-huh. That sounds suspiciously like something you’ve been told by one of those uninitiated types. Please correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “Got it in one.” Donovan pulled out of the station parking lot and onto the road. “Heidi doesn’t understand my ‘fixation,’ as she calls it.” Considering her own camouflage pink Land Rover, it wasn’t surprising. “She nods politely and doesn’t interfere, though, so all is good.”

  “Heidi’s your… partner?”

  “Yeah.” Donovan had already mentioned Heidi when he and Ethan had spoken on the phone. “We bought the inn together about five years ago.” Surely he’d told Ethan that too?

  “That’s right,” Ethan said. He leaned back in his seat.

  After five minutes, Donovan turned up the volume on the car radio, not enough to drown any potential conversation, but enough to mask the awkward silence. Usually he wouldn’t hav
e resorted to background noise, but it made it easier to focus on the road ahead.

  Ethan sounded different than he had on the phone, not quite as formal. Donovan risked a glance at his passenger. Frown lines that hadn’t been there a moment before creased his brow. He looked tired, as though he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in some time.

  Worrying about a friend would do that.

  Donovan had only met Cathal—the man Tomas had fallen for—once, but he’d always prided himself on being a good judge of character. The guy was in some kind of trouble, that was for sure. He just hoped whatever mess he’d gotten himself into, he hadn’t dragged Tomas along for the ride.

  It didn’t take much for civilians to get in over their heads, and there was some nasty shit out there. Shit that Donovan had spent years trying to forget and didn’t want to become involved in again.

  ETHAN STARED out the car window. The scenery, with its thatched-roof cottages and fields, looked like something out of a Country Living magazine. It was a different world from the busy streets he’d left behind in London.

  “Are you okay, buddy?”

  Startled from his reverie, Ethan turned from the window. “I’m fine,” he snapped, hoping he didn’t sound as much of an idiot as he felt. He pulled himself up sharply, both mentally and physically, mortified he’d drifted off into his own thoughts in front of a stranger. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Donovan repeated. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” Ethan ran one hand through his hair, using the motion to calm himself. The last couple of months had taken more of a toll on him than he’d thought. First all that crap with Duncan—his ex—and now Tomas. What next?

  “It’s fine,” Donovan said again. He didn’t seem fazed by Ethan’s reaction, but rather like he’d expected the response. Ethan wasn’t sure what to make of Donovan, but then he was a terrible judge of character—Duncan had shown him that, loud and clear.