The Clover Chapel

by Devney Perry

  “Oh. You didn’t need to do that, but thank you. You really got me a Christmas gift?” she asked.

  “Isn’t it customary to buy your spouse a present? Does that mean you didn’t get me anything?” I feigned surprise.

  “You are not funny.”

  I smiled. “You say that now, but just wait until you get my present.”

  I’d gotten her a coffee mug for her collection. I thought it was hilarious and hoped she’d like it too. But now, after seeing the insides of her kitchen cabinets, I was concerned that she already had it.

  “I thought you said your mom lived in Italy. Is that where you went?”

  “She does. And yes, they live in Milan but usually spend the holidays at a resort on Lake Como. I spent a couple weeks with her and Alesso there.”

  “I’m glad you could go see her.”

  “Me too. What did you do?”

  “Nothing much. Took a few days off work. Spent some time chopping firewood. Read a book.”

  “You didn’t go anywhere for Christmas?” she asked.

  “I did. I came here.”

  Her shoulders fell. “Sorry. I just needed some time away.”

  I walked from the island to stand at her side and leaned down into her face, gently taking hold of her chin. “I get that, Emmy. But no more running away. I told you I’m not letting you go, so you need to get used to having me in your life. Every day. No more space.”

  “I am not ready. I just ended a five-year relationship.”

  “Get ready,” I said. “I thought about you every day for nine years, wondered what you were doing. I had questions I wanted to ask but couldn’t. Those nine years are on me. It was my mistake to walk away from you but I’m not doing it again. And I won’t let you do it either. All I’m asking for is time. I’ll prove to you that you can trust me again.”

  “I can’t promise to forgive you, Nick. It still hurts.”

  The pain behind her words was like a punch to the gut.

  I was such a fucking asshole.

  “I don’t need a promise. Just a chance to erase that pain,” I said and leaned all the way down to brush my lips across hers. She was frozen stiff but that didn’t stop me from keeping my lips against hers for a few perfect seconds.

  When I leaned back, tears glistened in her eyes.

  “Don’t cry, my sweet Emmy.”

  She sniffled and blinked away the tears. “Can we change the subject?”

  “Yeah. What to?”

  “Which book did you read over Christmas?”

  I walked to the stove. “The Count of Monte Cristo. It’s a favorite.”

  For the next hour, we talked about books and ate dinner. Emmy relaxed and we were able to enjoy each other’s company without drama or stress. It was the best meal I’d had in years. Because I was finally with my Emmy.

  Emmeline

  “What’s wrong?” Nick asked.

  “Nothing,” I lied, erasing the scowl on my face.

  Nick had just sidestepped the stream of children rushing out the door. He smiled at each of them, but when Rowen Cleary had run up to him, he had picked her up and tossed her in the air, calling her “princess” and asking about her day.

  Nick would make a great dad.

  It was happening again. Spontaneous Nick thoughts.

  That one had come out of nowhere and caused my face to scrunch up. My bat-shit craziness was getting worse.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Picking you up for dinner,” he said.

  “It’s only three thirty. I prefer to put at least six hours between meals and I ate lunch at noon.”

  “I’m not here to take you now, Emmy. But I’m giving you a heads-up that I’ll be back at five thirty. Don’t drive home.”

  “You could have texted me all of this,” I said.

  “Yeah. But then I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

  He crossed the space between us in a millisecond and captured my mouth, wrapping his arms around my waist. His lips pressed roughly against mine as his tongue swept my lower lip. Over and over he stroked until my mouth fell open. When his tongue found mine, I melted. Heat erupted throughout my body and my knees gave out.

  When I started to sink to the floor, he stopped kissing me but tightened his grip on my waist.

  “I’ve got you.” A crooked grin formed on his lips.

  I took a moment to steady my legs and stand tall before stepping back a foot. The skin around my mouth was surely pink from the contact with his beard. But at least it would match my flushed cheeks.

  “Five thirty,” he said and walked out the door.

  Shit.

  Thinking clearly was not an option after a Nick kiss but I really needed to pull myself together. I’d spent last night tossing and turning, replaying all the things Nick had told me these last few months.

  You’ve always had my heart, Emmy.

  We’re it for each other.

  I thought about you every day for nine years.

  And I thought about what my mother had said. That my heart had already forgiven him and I just needed to get my head straight with that concept.

  Sinking into my chair, I let my head fall into my hands. “What am I going to do?”

  I tried to picture what our life could be like. Me happy. Nick and I living a normal life. But every time that image popped in my head, it was immediately followed by the vision of me waking up alone to a note that said he was sorry.

  Time was ticking away and I needed to make some decisions. My attorney had emailed me while I was in Italy to say he’d have my divorce papers drafted by the end of the month. Nick was not going to stop inserting himself into my life unless I made it clear we were over.

  Were we over?

  For nine years, I’d thought we were. But so much was different now. He was everything that I remembered. Kind. Affectionate. Intelligent.

  And stubborn. Every time I tried to push him away, he just pushed back harder. But honestly, I really hadn’t put up much of a fight against his advances.

  “Ten seconds ago, you let him stick his tongue down your throat with no fight at all, Emmeline,” I mumbled into my hands.

  “Ms. Austin?”

  My head flew up. Mason Carpenter was standing in front of my desk. “Mason. I’m sorry. I thought all of you kids had gone home. Are you okay?” I asked, standing up, then kneeling by his feet.

  Ever since I had bought the children shoes, Mason had started opening up to me. He still wasn’t speaking to any of his fellow students, with the exception of Rowen, but now he would talk to me as long as I was kneeling down with him and no other students were listening.

  “I was wondering if I could eat lunch inside tomorrow with you,” he whispered.

  “Sure,” I said. “Can you tell me why you don’t want to go outside with the other kids?”

  “It’s really cold outside. And today Rowen gave me her extra coat but the other kids were making fun of me because it was pink.”

  How had I not noticed Rowen bringing him another coat? Or that he hadn’t been wearing one when he’d arrived at school? I made a mental note to email Rich again, hoping this would be enough to start digging further into Mason’s home situation.

  “You know? This will work out perfectly. I was just going to ask if you wouldn’t mind helping me over lunch. I’m really having a hard time getting all of my work done and the classroom set up for our afternoon activities. Maybe you could help me?”

  He nodded and gave me a small smile.

  “Maybe we can check to see if Rowen wants to help out too.”

  This time, I got the dimple.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The fire station,” Nick said, driving along the highway.

  Past two gas stations, Main Street merged with the highway that led out of town. Other than my trips to the grocery store, I hadn’t explored the businesses in this area, so I stared out the window, taking them all in.

  We had almost reached
the hospital when Nick turned left and followed a side street to a tall, narrow building made of gray concrete blocks. In its center was a large white garage door. A Prescott Fire Department sign arched above it.

  Nick parked alongside the building and climbed out to open my door. He captured my hand and tugged me behind him as he unlocked a tinted glass door and walked inside the station.

  “Wow.” My eyes traveled around the large, concrete room. “It’s much bigger on the inside than I would have guessed.”

  “The tour’s pretty easy since you can see everything from this spot. But that’s the fire truck,” he said, pointing out the obvious. The red truck occupied half of the long building, other than some tools mounted on the walls.

  “That far wall has all the volunteer lockers where we stow the gear. My office is over there,” he said, indicating a room made mostly of glass panels in the back corner. “Behind it is the bathroom. And over here is the on-call pit.” He pulled me toward a lounge area at our left.

  The space was filled with two old couches and three beat-up recliners, all of which were pointed at a huge TV. Under the television was a cabinet filled with every gaming console imaginable and a pile of action films.

  “What’s an on-call pit?”

  “A place for the on-call volunteers to hang out. This time of year, we don’t have the volunteers stay at the station. Whoever is on-call just has to make sure they’re in town and can be reached on their pagers. But during forest fire season, we have them stay here. I take the day shifts since most of them have regular jobs, but they come in and spot me at night.”

  “Do they get paid? Or are they truly volunteers?” I asked.

  “They get paid. It’s not enough to make a living but it makes their time hanging out here worth it. And we all make serious cake if we get pulled in on a fire.”

  “Interesting. So what are we doing here? Are you on-call or something?”

  “No. Thought I’d show you the station and make you dinner.”

  “Here?” There was a kitchen behind the lounge area but it was tiny.

  “Yeah. Spaghetti okay?” he asked.

  “Sure. Though, I shouldn’t have worn a white top today.” Somehow I always managed to spill red sauces on myself.

  He smiled. “You can borrow a sweatshirt.”

  I climbed up on a stool by the kitchen and visited with him while he did his cooking, admiring the way he moved in the small space. For a man with such muscle and size, Nick was graceful, and in the kitchen, it made him sexy as hell.

  Thankfully, he asked me about my day, so rather than sit and ogle his body, I launched into my whole story about Mason.

  “Have you talked to Jess?” he asked.

  “Jess? No. Why?”

  “I’m sure he’d look into it for you.”

  “I would but I don’t want to go around Rich. I don’t know if that would be professional. Though, I’d love to move this along a little quicker. It’s really cold out right now. What if Mason doesn’t have heat at home? Or food?” The thought of cute little Mason Carpenter freezing or starving to death made my stomach ache.

  “Just ask the kid, Emmy. If you think he’s at risk, then talk to Garcia again. If he still delays getting Jess involved, go around him. The last thing you want is for something horrible to happen to this kid because you were hesitant to push.”

  “You’re right.” I frowned. I didn’t want to alienate Rich or worse, risk my job, but if that’s what it would take to get Mason through the winter, that’s just what I would have to do.

  “I’ll cheer you up,” Nick said after putting a handful of noodles into a pot of boiling water.

  I gave him a sideways glance and raised my eyebrows.

  He smiled and pulled a square box from a bag on the counter. It was wrapped in green foil with a red and white ribbon on top.

  “My present?”

  “I hope you don’t have it already.”

  Carefully opening the paper, I unfolded the top of the box and lifted out a white ceramic coffee mug. In swirly black script, the cup read Sorry I’m late . . . I didn’t want to come.

  My nose started to burn and I rapidly blinked the tears away.

  It was perfect.

  Logan had always made fun of me for my coffee cup obsession and discouraged me from buying such “witless trinkets.” He would have never bought me one.

  Nick frowned. “You don’t like it.”

  “No! It’s wonderful,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t much. But I saw it and it made me think of you.”

  “It’s just the type of mug I would have bought myself. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

  “I only need you, Emmy,” he said and went back to the stove.

  Wow, that felt good.

  Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on one of the on-call pit’s leather couches, wearing a huge red Prescott Fire Department sweatshirt and scarfing down the best spaghetti I had ever tasted.

  If being married to Nick means I get to eat meals like this on a regular basis, I might have to call Fred Andrews and cancel those divorce papers.

  Another spontaneous Nick thought.

  I was midgulp with a can of Diet Coke pressed to my lips when a dark figure walked into my living room. I tried to scream but choked instead. The soda lodged in my throat and I started to panic.

  The figure walked through the foyer and into the light. It was none other than my current, maybe future ex, husband.

  “Fuck,” Nick muttered, rushing to my side. “Breathe, Emmy.”

  Diet Coke was dripping down my chin and coming out my nose while he patted my back. “Tissue,” I choked out.

  From his pocket, he produced a red bandana and shoved it in my face. “Here.”

  I cleaned off my face and took a few deep breaths, savoring the oxygen.

  “What the fuck, Emmy?” Nick yelled.

  “What? Don’t ‘What the fuck, Emmy?’ me! What the fuck to you? Why are you breaking into my house? You scared the shit out of me!”

  “Why is your security system off?”

  “It’s five thirty. I just got home.”

  “You need to set it all the time. They only work when they are fucking turned on.”

  “Relax,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I highly doubt that at five thirty on a Friday night in Prescott, Montana, someone is going to attempt a break-in. Even if it is dark out.”

  “Yeah? Maybe ask Gigi Cleary what time she was kidnapped.”

  My anger deflated when I realized he was mad because he was scared.

  Logan had been the same way, overprotective and quick to anger when he thought I was being careless. So as much as it annoyed me, I gave in. I didn’t have the energy to debate his ridiculous request and rub his male ego the wrong way.

  “Okay.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I’ll set it all the time. Now what are you doing here? I thought you wanted to eat in town.”

  Earlier today, he had texted me, asking if we could eat dinner at the café. It had been two weeks since Nick started having dinner with me and he hadn’t missed a single night.

  Mostly we would eat at my house, but a couple of times he had collected me from school and had taken me to different places in town. On the weekends, he had come over early, and instead of cooking for me, he’d cook with me, my culinary lessons lasting all evening.

  “Jess called me and said they are having a last-minute party at the farmhouse.”

  “And my attendance is required?” I asked. Part of me wanted to get out and do something social but the other was content to lounge at home in yoga pants.

  “My attendance is required, therefore yours is too,” he said.

  “Okay. Let me get changed.” Fifteen minutes later, I was ready to go. I had pulled on a pair of super-stretchy skinny jeans, because they were almost like yoga pants, and an oversized black sweater. But since I didn’t want to be too slouchy, I’d dressed them up with a pair of black suede, over-the-knee boots.
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  Clicking down the stairs, I scanned the house to find Nick. I loved that from the floating steps I could see almost all of the main floor and kitchen.

  Nick was pacing along the back windowed wall of the living room, his phone pressed to his ear. When he heard my heeled feet hit the landing, he quickly hung up his call.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Ready?”

  “Yes. But do we need to bring anything?”

  “Beer. I picked it up on the way here so we wouldn’t have to drive all the way into town.”

  As we drove through the darkness, Nick reached out and captured my hand. He brought it to his lips and spoke against my skin. “Those are some boots.”

  “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “They’re sexy as fuck. Sometime I’m going to see what you look like wearing them and nothing else,” he said.

  I was glad the truck’s cab was dark and he couldn’t see my cheeks flush. A shiver ran through my body and my sex started throbbing at the mental image he’d conjured.

  Nick and I hadn’t done anything but kiss these last few weeks and he’d kept them all PG-rated. He’d brush his lips quickly against my cheek or my temple, his soft beard giving me tingles. More often, he would lean down and kiss the tip of my nose.

  And that’s exactly how I had wanted it. I wasn’t ready to take things any further. But my body was protesting my brain’s decision. At this very minute, it was running hot.

  I rationalized it as a lack of sexual activity. I hadn’t had sex since moving from New York, five months ago. Back then, Logan and I’d had a great sex life. My feelings were all just a result of going cold turkey. Right?

  Nick laughed. “Stop thinking about sex, Emmy.”

  Shit.

  The sexual tension in the truck was stifling. Of course he knew I was thinking about sex, so there was no use denying it. Luckily, the drive was short and soon we turned down the gravel lane that led to the Clearys’ home.

  The farmhouse was outside of town and not all that far from mine. Their place was set further into the prairie but the back of their property butted up against the same forest that surrounded my house.