The Clover Chapel

by Devney Perry

  Nick parked the truck and leaned over the center console, kissing me lightly on the lips. “Happy anniversary, Wife.”

  “You remembered?” I asked. “I wasn’t sure if—” I started but couldn’t continue. My nose started to burn and I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t cry.

  This was so romantic. Nick hadn’t just remembered our anniversary, he’d gone all out to surprise me with something special.

  “Worth the wait?” he whispered.

  “Yes.” I nodded before pressing my lips against his.

  The kiss I laid on him was rough and desperate. My hands were threaded into his beard as my tongue took over his mouth. When we were both breathless, I leaned away and whispered, “Happy anniversary, Nick.”

  “Now I need a minute before we can leave.” He grinned. “I doubt the pilot wants to fly me around with a hard-on.”

  “It would probably be best if you saved that just for me.”

  “Only you, my sweet Emmy.”

  We sat with our foreheads pressed together for a few moments until he pulled away. “We need to get bundled up. It’s going to be cold as fuck up there,” Nick said. “Clothes are in the backpack.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we were floating.

  It was magic.

  Nick had been right, the air was sharp and cold. But it didn’t matter. The happiness in my heart kept me warm.

  The beginnings of spring were starting to show. Green buds were coming to life on the trees and wildflowers were in bloom. Rivers and streams were rushing with water from the melting snow. The Jamison Valley was alive with new life and color.

  “This is amazing,” I told Nick.

  After an hour ride, the hot-air balloon pilot set us down in another open field across the valley. Nick was up to something else because not far from our landing pad was my Jeep.

  “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing or do you plan on continuing this torture?”

  “Torture. I like making you squirm.” He winked.

  We said our good-byes to the pilot and took off on the next part of Nick’s surprise. The sun was setting and the sky was alight with vivid color.

  Nick drove through a maze of gravel roads until we started up an incredibly steep hill. When the Jeep plateaued, we faced a wooden A-frame chateau built into the side of a mountain. The large front windows were a golden beacon.

  “Are we staying here?” I asked, not even trying to contain my excitement.

  “Yeah. Rented it out for the whole weekend.”

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  Nick pulled me inside so I could explore while he brought in our bags and the groceries he’d stashed in the car. The interior of the house had a similar feel to Nick’s cabin. Rich woods mixed with rough stone. Cozy furniture. Enormous fireplace.

  “You like it?”

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I said. “Do you want a drink before dinner?”

  “Yeah. I’ll start cooking in a few,” he said.

  “Okay. I’ll get you a beer. Did you bring wine?” I asked.

  “Is your name Emmeline Austin?”

  That meant yes.

  I smiled and walked to the kitchen, where an abundance of food items was resting on the counter next to two bottles of my favorite wine.

  Nick was a romantic. Some of his declarations over the last few months still took my breath away. But this was beyond my wildest dreams.

  While Nick bustled around in the kitchen cooking dinner, I relaxed in front of the fireplace and enjoyed my wine. Delicious smells filled the house, and by the time we were seated at the table, my mouth was watering.

  “You made me salmon?”

  “I made sure to ask Samuel how you liked it before they left.” Forking off a flaky bite, a moan escaped my throat when the flavor burst on my tongue.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Amazing. You’ve outdone yourself. And Samuel.”

  We ate mostly in silence, both content to enjoy the meal and the peaceful setting.

  “I’ll clean up,” I offered.

  Part of our nightly routine was Nick cooking and me cleaning the dishes. He must have suspected that I’d volunteer because when I walked into the kitchen, I came to a stop at the sight of two wrapped boxes sitting on the island.

  Why hadn’t I gotten him something? I should have known he would remember our anniversary. Nick remembered everything from Las Vegas. Obviously, the date hadn’t slipped his mind. Instead of searching for the perfect gift, I had been busy doubting him.

  “I didn’t get you anything. I should have. I’m so sorry,” I blurted.

  “I don’t want anything. All I need is you.” He kissed the tip of my nose. Taking the plates from my hands, Nick set them aside and went to the boxes.

  “You shouldn’t have. The balloon. This house. Now gifts? This is too much.”

  “Whatever your heart desires, Emmy. That’s what I’ll give you. If you want a quiet weekend together, it’s yours. You told me a while back you wanted to go on a hot-air balloon ride. Done. I’ve got nine missed anniversaries to make up for and I promise to do it.”

  My vision blurred. I wanted nothing more than to have those nine years with Nick back. To go back to Vegas and start over. But that wasn’t possible.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “For everything.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just be happy.”

  “I am.” I nodded. “Can I open them?”

  “This one first,” he said, handing me a rectangular package. I knew by its weight and shape, Nick had gotten me a book.

  “This is for our first anniversary. The traditional gift is paper,” he said.

  I carefully unwrapped a tattered yellow book. When I examined its worn cover, my eyes stared at it, unblinking. Nick had bought me a first edition of Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier, my favorite book. It had to have cost him thousands. Thumbing through its yellowed pages, I inhaled its unique musty smell.

  “Oh, Nick. This is incredible! Imagine where it’s been, who’s read this before me? I love it. Thank you!” I hugged the book to my chest.

  “How’d I score with that one?” he asked.

  “Off the charts.” I smiled.

  “Good. Next up. Ten years,” he said. “Tin or aluminum. But the more modern gift is diamonds. So I designed you something with all three.”

  Inside a small, square box sat a simple banded ring. The circle was made with rose gold, inlayed with metal stripes. I assumed the silver threads were tin and aluminum from Nick’s preface. The metals in and of themselves were unique but with the diamonds in the center, this ring was one of a kind.

  A wave of rough-cut diamonds was inverted into the band. The gold above the gems was jagged, like mirrored mountain ranges, with the jewels beneath the surface.

  “You designed this? It’s . . . I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. Nick’s talents never ceased to amaze me.

  He took the ring from my hands and placed it on the ring finger of my right hand. I was glad he hadn’t gone for the left. He had already bought me a ring for that hand. I hadn’t told him that I still had our wedding rings. Until I knew what our fate would be, those rings were staying a secret.

  “Yeah. Thought it would be kind of cool to have the diamonds below the metal. Kind of like how you’d find them in a mine. You like it?”

  I nodded. “Love it.”

  “Off the charts?”

  “Out of this world.” As I admired the ring on my finger, I thought about all of the things I should have gotten Nick. A John Wayne movie collector’s set. A new pair of snowshoes because his were getting old. A new flannel shirt to replace the one I had borrowed with no intention of returning.

  “I wish I would have gotten you a gift.”

  Pressing his lips to my temple, he chuckled. “An anniversary blow job wouldn’t go unappreciated.”

  I licked my lips and got to work. When I was done, he hauled me up to my feet.

  “Out of this world.” He smiled.

&n
bsp; We did the dishes and Nick shuffled me into the master bedroom for anniversary sex that did not disappoint.

  “Thank you for a wonderful day,” I whispered to Nick lying next to me. Abandoning our normal position, we were facing each other, inches apart. A sheet was thrown over his legs and I had it pulled to my chest.

  “You’re welcome. I enjoyed it too.”

  “It sure beat my normal anniversary ritual,” I teased.

  Nick winced and his face tightened. “I’m so sorry, Emmeline,” he whispered. “I am so fucking sorry. It eats at me. I’ll never make it right.”

  Reaching out a hand, I gently stroked his beard. “Is that what today was about? The surprise. The gifts. You were trying to apologize?”

  “No. Maybe a little,” he said. “I wanted it to be special for us this time. Ten years.”

  Ten years.

  We hadn’t been married for ten years. Not the type of marriage I wanted anyway. Today had been wonderful but it felt like our first anniversary, not our tenth. I wanted a diamond anniversary with the man who had slept by my side every night for a decade. Not months.

  This was exactly the reason why I wanted us to get divorced.

  But first Nick needed to stop punishing himself.

  “You have to forgive yourself. Nothing you can do will change what’s happened.”

  “How can I forgive myself when you can’t?” he asked.

  I already did.

  Somewhere along the road, my brain had caught up with my heart. I had forgiven him. I was over his leaving me in Vegas.

  Did I like to think about it? No. Did talking about it sting? A little. But that was all residual feeling. Any resentment or anger I had felt toward Nick was gone.

  I had finally moved past it.

  “I do forgive you.”

  Confusion replaced the pain on his face. “You do?”

  I nodded. “I don’t need big surprises and fancy gifts. I know you regret what happened in the past. We both need to let it go and stop bringing it up. Let’s just be us now. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s just be us.”

  I didn’t like the space between us, so I shifted to my other side and waited for Nick to pull me into his chest.

  “My dad always went all out for Mom on their anniversary,” Nick said into my hair. “Every year she’d flitter around the house, anxious to see what he’d done for her. I loved that he did that. At least once a year she got to see how special she was. I promise to cool it on the gifts, but I can’t promise I won’t do the surprises. It means something to me. The big show. I want that for you.”

  I kissed his arm closest to my lips. “I can live with that.”

  We slept curled together until the next morning when Nick woke me up and dragged me into the kitchen.

  “What do you want for your birthday breakfast?” Nick asked.

  Remembering it was my birthday was impressive. In Las Vegas, I had only mentioned it in passing, so either he had a steel-trap memory or he’d recently snuck a peek at my driver’s license.

  I suspected the former. My man was smart. Either way, I was going to enjoy being spoiled.

  “Were you going to make me a cake today?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then cake, please.”

  “It’s going to take a while.”

  “That’s okay. I want to read my book,” I said, snagging my first edition from the counter. Two hours later, he interrupted my reading and handed me an enormous piece of cake.

  “Funfetti cake with rainbow chip frosting?” I yelled. “How did you know it was my favorite?”

  “I called your mom.”

  A huge grin spread across my face. He was good.

  “Thank you,” I said. My mouth was full of cake so it came out more like “Fane oo.”

  Laughing, he went back to the kitchen, likely to get a breakfast not made entirely from sugar.

  We enjoyed a wonderful weekend together. One of the best I’d ever had.

  “Is it bad I don’t want to see my students? I like our happy bubble here,” I told Nick as I loaded up my suitcase.

  He had struggled with the packing but I gave him kudos for trying. But for the next surprise trip, I had hinted he should enlist Gigi or Maisy to help.

  “I like it too. We’ll plan a trip to come back,” he promised.

  As we pulled out of the driveway, I waved. “Good-bye, chateau.” I had a sinking feeling that I’d never see this place again.

  And I was right.

  “That wind is cold! Would you mind if I left you for a minute? I want to run inside and get my heavier coat,” I asked Prescott’s fifth-grade teacher. We were paired for bus duty this week, supervising the children as they loaded up for their journeys home.

  “Just head on in and stay there.” She smiled. “The kids are almost all loaded up and I can finish up here. You go inside and warm up.”

  “Thanks!” My teeth chattered as I ran inside.

  My short steps turned into long strides when a frustrated scream echoed from my classroom. My heels ground to a stop when I rushed through the door and saw Mason Carpenter frantically digging through the trash can by my desk.

  How did he get back inside without a teacher noticing? And what the hell was he doing in the garbage?

  “Mason?”

  He spun around with wide eyes.

  Giving him a gentle smile, I crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “What are you doing in the trash can?”

  His eyes filled with tears and his chin started quivering. The desperation on his face was like a shot through the heart.

  “I’m hungry!” he wailed and fell against me. “I was trying to find the apple you ate at snack time.”

  Pain shot through my heart and I fought back my own tears as I held Mason to my chest. My agony was quickly replaced with blazing fury.

  A six-year-old boy was eating garbage. His clothes were dirty and his body was filthy. This could not continue any longer. This would not continue any longer.

  The social worker had been given months to help Mason. She’d had her chance. Now it was my turn. No matter what it took, I was getting inside his aunt’s house and proving it was no place for this child.

  But first I needed to calm Mason down and get him some food.

  “It will be okay, darling. Take some deep breaths,” I said, rubbing his back. “Do you want to take a special trip to the teacher’s lounge with me? I’ll make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And I think there’s some brownies in there too.”

  He nodded and pulled away, wiping the tears from his eyes.

  Ten minutes later, I had raided the lounge cupboards and sat with Mason while he inhaled his sandwich, a bag of chips and two brownies.

  “Mason, didn’t you have lunch today?” Usually when I pressed for information he would shut me out, but I was hoping today would be different and he would open up.

  He shook his head.

  “You live with your aunt?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Why didn’t she pack you a lunch?”

  “Her boyfriend ate all our food. She said I would just have to wait until Friday when she could go to the store.”

  “Did you have dinner last night?”

  He shook his head. “She said I could just get the hot lunch,” he mumbled, “but she forgot to pay for my lunch ticket.”

  Today was Wednesday. Was his aunt actually expecting a child to go days without food? My blood was boiling. I wasn’t a violent person but I wanted nothing more than to kick the hell out of his aunt.

  “Next time just ask the teacher on duty to put it on my charge account, okay?” I said.

  He nodded and went back to his chips.

  Clamping my jaw shut, I closed my eyes and took in three calming breaths. They didn’t work, but at least I managed not to curse in front of my student.

  “How do you get home after school?” I asked.

  “I walk.”

  “Okay.
This afternoon, I’ll give you a ride. Tomorrow, I will bring your meals to school for you.”

  He slumped into his chair. “Are you going to get Aunt Kira in trouble? She said if I told anyone about her, the police would come and send me to jail with Mommy.”

  That manipulative bitch had scared Mason into silence. My temper just kept on rising. How did the social worker miss all of this?

  “Mason, do you remember a woman coming to your house and looking around?”

  He nodded.

  “Did she ask you some questions about how you liked living with your aunt?”

  He nodded again.

  “Did you tell her the truth?”

  He shook his head and his eyes filled again with tears.

  “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble, darling. Go ahead and finish eating. I need to make a phone call.”

  Stepping into the hallway, I pulled out my phone to enlist reinforcements.

  “Ms. Robertson?” I called, pounding my fist on her door.

  Kira Robertson’s home was a run-down trailer on the edge of town with a rusted white Toyota parked on the lawn. I hadn’t been in this neighborhood before but it was reminiscent of my days spent volunteering in the rougher areas of Manhattan.

  The trailer’s exterior paneling was dirty and coming off in a few places. When I had pulled on the screen door handle, it had nearly come off.

  The knot in my stomach tightened as I continued knocking without an answer. But I wasn’t chickening out. Mason needed me.

  He was currently safe at the Fan Mountain Inn with Maisy and Coby. When I’d called Maisy and given her an abbreviated summary of the situation, she had been more than happy to help, though she had been a bit concerned about my plan. She’d thought I should enlist Jess’s help instead of going to Mason’s house alone to confront “Aunt Kira.” I hadn’t called Jess but promised that a visit to the sheriff would be my second stop.

  Kira hadn’t answered the door for any of Jess’s visits and it wasn’t like he could force himself inside. My chances of getting through her door would be much greater if I wasn’t with a cop.