This Place: Holmes Crossing Book 3

by Carolyne Aarsen

  "And Celia will be well taken care of," I said relief flooding through me.

  “Francine’s policy was enough to help her through her formative years." Mrs. Tiemstra was quiet. "So, does this change any of your plans?"

  "I'm not sure." I had a few things to get out of the way before I made any decisions.

  "Because in spite of what Duncan told you, I want you to know that we would like to help and support you taking care of Celia. If that's your choice. I know you said that you wanted Duncan to do so, but I firmly believe that you should reconsider. I know you love her, and I believe God has given you a second chance with her. I hope you will take it for your sake as much as hers."

  Though her words encouraged me I also knew my life was so untethered. I had no idea where I was headed, or what I wanted to do. Once again, I felt like I was at a fork in my life's road.

  I had fallen in love again with my daughter, as well as with the man who was also supposed to take care of her. And I wasn't sure what step to take next.

  Just deal with what's in front of you.

  "Thank you for that. I do love her," I said, staring out the window at the front of Francine and Jerrod's house. Trying to imagine it as a home for Celia and me.

  And Duncan? Could you stay so close to him?

  My throat thickened at the memory of the anger in his face. His denunciation of me.

  Just deal with what's in front of you.

  "Again, we'll be praying for you,” Mrs. Tiemstra said. “And as for Duncan, I believe he spoke out of a hurt and broken heart. I'm sure he didn't mean what he said."

  I was certain she didn't know the entire truth about Kimberly, so I just murmured a vague reply. Then I said goodbye, and dropped my phone in my purse. I buckled up, reversed the SUV out of the driveway, and headed out.

  My mind was a whirl of thoughts and worry as I drove. What would Duncan say? Would he understand?

  I shook off the questions. I was forgiven. My sins were covered. I paid for my mistakes. Dearly.

  Songs from Sunday floated through my head, and I let the words soothe me. Remind me that God wanted me to put my burdens at His feet. That my life was His.

  I slowed down as I came to the road that I was sure Duncan had gone down when we had gotten the Christmas tree. It had snowed last night again, a wet, sticky snow that clung to the signs and the branches, and though the road hadn't been plowed, it was fairly well packed from the traffic. I recognized an old log cabin Duncan had pointed out to me, and I felt more confident as I turned down the road just past it.

  I just hoped and prayed that Duncan was at the logging block when I got there.

  And if he wasn't?

  Well, I would find him. This time I wasn't letting him go without a fight. Without letting him see me for whom I was.

  I slowed down as I came around a tight corner. The snow had started up again, and I couldn't see far through the falling flakes. The road grew narrower and tighter.

  I drove a ways farther and then with a flicker of panic realized what I had done. I remembered Duncan talking on the radio. Calling his kilometers, he said, so that anyone coming down the road toward him would know where he was. I didn't have a radio, and now I was driving down roads that logging trucks ten times my size were also traveling on. In my determination to set the record straight, I had put myself in danger.

  The snow was falling more heavily, and I rolled down the window just a bit to hear more clearly. But the only sound was the faint rustle of the wind through the snow-covered tree branches.

  I knew I had to turn around and get out of here, but the road was too narrow.

  And then I heard it, the muffled sound of a vehicle approaching. Fast.

  Now what? I slowed down even more, and as I came around a corner my heart thudded as I saw the road go downhill to a narrow bridge spanning a snow-covered creek. The bridge was only wide enough for a single vehicle, and right now a pickup truck was approaching it from the other side. There was no room for both of us.

  I tried to brake, but I was going downhill already, and my tires slid on the icy road. I had no traction, and the truck was now directly below me on the bridge. I had no choice—I took a deep breath and swerved right, tires spinning, and with a thud and a sickening crunch, I plowed the SUV into the creek.

  The hood of my vehicle was buried in the ice I had broken through, water now flowing past, but my back tires were still on the bank. I had to get out. I pushed on the door, but it was stuck against the snow. I pushed again, trying not to panic as the vehicle slid slowly, inexorably, farther into the water, the ice crunching against the engine.

  My fingers shaking, I opened the window all the way. Finally, I was able to clamber out, struggling to find purchase in the deep snow, my feet slipping and sliding. I made it to the road, and my trembling knees gave way as I crumpled to the ground.

  I started to shake violently, adrenaline working its way through my system, ice spreading from my heart outward.

  "Miriam?"

  I slowly got to my feet, my limbs quickly chilling, to see Duncan running toward me, his truck tilted off to one side on the top of the hill.

  "Are you okay?" He grabbed me by the arms, hauling me to my feet, his wide eyes ticking over me, checking me out.

  "I'm fine. Just scared. But fine."

  He gave me a light shake as if to reprimand me. "What were you thinking? Driving down this road?"

  "I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I realized too late that I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry." I was babbling and I blamed my loose tongue on the close call I'd just had. "I forgot that you used a radio and that you called your kilometers." I shot a panicked look behind me, the deep tracks I plowed in the snow leading to the SUV that now sat half-buried in the creek. "I'm sorry about the car."

  He heaved out a sigh and then, to my surprise, he pulled me close, enveloping me with his arms.

  "It's okay. We can pull it out. I'm glad you're okay." He held my head, rocking me slightly.

  I leaned into his embrace, my own legs still wobbly, and I clung to him, needing this momentary anchor. We stayed together for a moment, the silence surrounding us, snow kissing my heated cheeks, tangling in my hair.

  Finally I pulled away, knowing I couldn't read more into his embrace than simple reaction to the situation.

  "Come into my truck. You're like ice," he said, taking me by the arm and gently leading me up the hill. My feet slipped on the snow, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, holding me up, his other hand holding my arm.

  Finally, we made it to the top, and he walked me around his truck, through the deep snow to the side. He had to fight the door open, but finally got me inside. He hurried around and climbed in, turning the engine on again. Blessed heat poured out of the vents and I tugged my mittens off, holding my hands to the warmth.

  "You sure you're okay?" he asked again, his hand resting with comforting weight on my shoulder.

  I nodded, still shaky from the encounter.

  He pulled his mic off the holder and clicked it. "Duncan at Number Fifteen bridge. Got a car in the creek. If there's a picker truck empty we could use your help."

  Almost immediately, the radio squawked back. "Karl here. Just at checkerboard corner. I'm probably the closest. Be there in twenty."

  "Thanks Karl. Any trucks coming on Y road loaded, watch for vehicles at Fifteen bridge."

  I heard a faint, "Copy," from the radio. "Truck loaded at kilometer forty. Hope you get that idiot out before I get there." This was followed by a chuckle.

  "Don't worry about that," Duncan said, turning to me, one arm resting on the steering wheel, the other on the back of his seat. "That's just guy talk."

  "He was right. I was an idiot." I pulled in a deep breath, trying to still my pounding heart. Only now it wasn't just because of the accident. Duncan's nearness, the intensity of his gaze, was as much responsible as my near miss.

  "So what were you doing out here?" Duncan asked.

  "Looking for you."
/>   He said nothing to that, but kept looking at me.

  I sorted through my thoughts seeking the right way to start. The right words to use. But there was no way to ease into this conversation. So I dove straight in.

  "You need to know why I gave up Celia for adoption," I said, looking away from him, focusing on the snow gently falling down and accumulating on the hood of his truck.

  I heard the sudden intake of his breath, but kept my eyes resolutely ahead, praying as I found the words.

  "Jerrod was right to warn me away from you. Before I came to Jerrod and Francine's wedding, I wasn't living a good life. I was hanging around with the wrong group of people. Partying way too much, and wasting my time. Then I met you. And I saw an alternative to the life I was living. I saw a family that cared about each other. Something I always wanted for myself. After the wedding, after our dates, I thought my life had come to a good place. I really liked you and I thought you liked me. But then I got that text from Jerrod and though it made me angry, part of me knew he was right."

  I took a breath but Duncan stayed silent so I kept going.

  "I went back to the guy I had broken up with. Except he wasn't a good Christian guy, though I thought he was decent enough. I found out too late that he was dealing in drugs. I confronted him, and he beat me up. I got scared and I took off. I was living in Minnesota at the time, and I wanted to get back into Canada. Only I didn't realize, that he had been using my car to store his drugs. I got caught with four kilos of cocaine as I tried to cross the border."

  I heard an intake of breath, and in spite of his reaction I glanced over. But he was looking ahead as well, as if trying to absorb my story. "I didn't know. I had no idea. You have to believe me. I hadn't so much as puffed on a cigarette before that." A pleading tone had entered my voice and I hated it, but I needed him to believe me.

  He frowned, and for a moment I thought he was going to condemn me.

  "What happened after that?" he asked, instead.

  "I got hit with five years. I served three of them. And then was extradited to Canada. Jerrod and Francine took care of that. I think it was a way of paying me back."

  "For what?"

  I wove my fingers together, hoping, praying, that he would understand. And if not, at least hear me out.

  "I was pregnant when I got sent to jail. With Celia." I stopped there, my throat suddenly thickening. I pressed my trembling lips together trying to regain my composure. I had thought I could tell him without breaking down. And in spite of everything I had felt last night, in spite of knowing I was forgiven, knowing that being sent to jail was just a combination of bad luck and bad choices, the shame of it all still thundered down on me. “Celia was born when I was in prison.”

  "And Jerrod and Francine adopted her then?" Duncan asked.

  "I wrote Jerrod from prison, telling him what happened. And about my situation. He came to visit, and he talked me into letting them adopt Celia. They had just found out they couldn’t have children. I wanted what was best for my little girl. I didn't want her ending up in foster homes, waiting for me to be released. I wanted her to have a home. It was so hard to give her up but I had to do what was best for her. So when I found out that Francine named me as guardian, after she died, I was scared. I couldn't take care of my daughter when she was a baby, I didn't think I could do it now." I stopped there, turning to him, silently pleading for his understanding. "I wanted her more than anything. Then and now. But I saw your family, the community, and the home that you guys could give her. I couldn't begin to give her half of that. I had a hard enough time finding the job I did. I live in a small, crappy apartment that I share with a good friend. I have no way of supporting Celia. I wasn't rejecting her. I was rejecting me."

  Utter silence fell between us, thick and heavy.

  Well, this was it. I had told him everything. I had entrusted him with my deepest, darkest secrets. Other than Jerrod and Francine, he was the only other person that now knew the complete story of my sordid past.

  His head was bowed, his hair hiding his face. I swallowed down the tears that threatened, and yet felt relieved. I had released my final secret.

  "Why didn't you leave this man sooner?" Duncan asked finally, a note of condemnation in his voice.

  "Because I had nowhere else to go." I lifted my chin, a defiance entering my voice. "You have had the privilege of choices in your life. You have parents who have taken care of you, who have backed you. Your home, your farm, and your business—that was all a legacy given to you via a secure family and parents who could afford it. You have had a good example of relationships. I know there came a time in my life when I was responsible for my own choices, and I accept that. But I only spent seven years with Jerrod’s family. When Sally died, I lost my only anchor to normality. Jerrod was out of the house and finding his own way through life. I drifted through my life. And when I met you, I thought something good had happened. Then Jerrod warned me off you and I let myself believe that he was right.” I stopped, releasing a harsh laugh. "So I went back to Gregg. I know I should have left him. It's easy to say that looking back, but at the moment he was all I had."

  I stopped there. I didn't want to defend my decisions anymore. Duncan would have to take what I said at face value. If he didn't…

  Then, to my surprise, I felt Duncan's hand rest on the back of my neck, his fingers gently caressing.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry for all the things you've had to deal with. You're right. I'm condemning you from a place of privilege. I've only ever known a family. Community. Security."

  He turned me to face him. "I'm not trying to justify my actions last night. I'm just hoping you can see how it looked to me. I thought you were just like Kimberly. I thought you didn't want Celia. You talked that way when we first met right after the funeral."

  I held his gaze, my own hand coming up to grasp at his arm. "I have grieved every day that little girl has been out of my arms. I have shed more tears over losing her than anything else. I only wanted what was best for her. I didn't think I could be a good mother to her then, I didn't think I could now. I was scared I was like my mom."

  Duncan’s gaze softened, and his eyes wandered over my face as if trying to see me in a different light. "You did what was best for her," he said. "You made a sacrifice for her sake. That's what a mother does. A real mother. You were willing to make yet another one for her, as hard as it was for me to see that. I'm sorry you've had to go through all you have. I can't imagine the life you've lived. But you came through. The fact that you were willing to put your needs behind Celia's shows that you are a good mother."

  He took a deep breath, his fingers making soothing circles on my neck, easing out the pain that had gathered in my soul. Then, to my surprise and joy, he leaned closer, brushing his lips over mine. Warm. Soft. Tender. Then they moved with a deeper urgency as his hand held my head close.

  I caught his shoulder, pulling him near, returning his kiss with abandon and joy.

  Could this be? Could this man still care for me after all I'd told him?

  After a moment we both drew back, our eyes locked on each other.

  "You have no idea what I would give to turn back time. To make better choices," I whispered, needing him to understand. "I'm not that person anymore."

  "I believe that," he said. "I don't know if you were ever that person. The girl I met at Jerrod's wedding had an innocence about her that I still see in you. A gentleness and a desire for love." He laughed briefly. "I'm no knight in shining armor, like the princes in the books you illustrated. I've made my own mistakes. Kimberly didn't get pregnant on her own." He stopped there, his thumb gently caressing the side of my mouth, as if to discover the kiss we had just shared. "But we're here together. And I don't think that was chance."

  "Actually it was Jerrod and Francine's doing. In their own strange way."

  "I found out why they were split on the guardian issue. Why Francine named you and Jerrod named me."

  I fr
owned at him. "How did you find out?"

  He sighed, pulling me close, resting his head on mine. "You talk about our family like it is some amazing group of people, but we have our own secrets and problems. Apparently, Jerrod and Esther were having an affair. That's why Francine and Jerrod were fighting. That's why Esther wanted to clean out Jerrod's study on her own. She didn't want anyone to know about the two of them. She was hoping to get rid of any evidence."

  I sat utterly still, trying to absorb this, even while pieces of what I'd been dealing with the past few weeks hinted at this very situation.

  "I think that's partly why Francine named you guardian,” Duncan continued. “Because of the affair."

  "I thought it was a way of giving Celia back to me," I said.

  "I'm sure that was the main reason." Duncan pressed a kiss to my head, his chest lifting in a sigh. "So you see, my family isn't perfect by any stretch, either. We all have our dark secrets and silent sorrows."

  I sat quietly in his arms a moment, my mind reeling with these unbelievable new details.

  "But it's still a family," I said finally, resting my hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under my hand. "And it's still part of a community. It's still a good place."

  "It is," he agreed. Then he drew back again, brushing another kiss over my forehead. "And I think you should stay here. Experience it for yourself. Christmas is ten days away. Stay until then. And then, stay after that. Be Celia's mother. Be…well, be a part of my family."

  I looked at him, hardly daring to guess what he hinted at and what he offered.

  Then he smiled, as if he understood my hesitancy. "This is a good thing," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his callused fingers rough against my face. "I want you to stay. I want us to try again. Like I said before, I think we've been given a second chance. I don't want to throw it away. I know you don't have a job or anything lined up here, but I'm sure you could find a way to support yourself."