“Yeah. Well, I’m the guy who sheared sheep, released a bull, and got myself into so much trouble while I lived here, I didn’t want to ever come back. Trust me when I say I have a way of opening my mouth and putting my foot in it. Remember when I told him he was going to be going home?”
“Yes.”
“Remember what he said?”
She did. “‘I’m not home?’”
“He was probably thinking about it, trying to work things out in his head. Maybe it scared him, made him think we were going to send him away and not let him return. With someone like Joe, it’s hard to tell.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that.”
“No? Then why do you blame yourself for what happened with your ex?”
“Who says I do?”
“It’s obvious from the way you act.”
“How, exactly, do I act?” she asked, knowing she was going to regret it, because River might not be into hurting people, but he was sure as heck into telling the truth.
“You haven’t shared the truth with your family. They have no idea Dan was way more than a cheater.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re embarrassed. You think Dan’s actions are some reflection of you as a person.”
“Bull,” she said, but there was no heat in the word because he was right. She knew it.
As much as she tried to pretend otherwise, she did see what happened with Dan as a reflection of her and of her failures.
“I see.”
“You see what?” she snapped, angry with herself and with him.
They were out there looking for Joe.
It wasn’t the time or place for deep discussions about her psychological shortcomings.
“That you haven’t moved on. That’s too bad, red.” He stepped onto the sidewalk, turned to the east, heading toward the library. “Because I really thought we might be able to have something together, but I’m not into threesomes.”
“Who said I was?”
“You are if every time we’re together you’re thinking about the past, about what went wrong and what should have gone right and what you could have changed and didn’t.”
“I’m not—”
“Sure you are.”
They reached the library, the sun glinting off the glass doors. She could see her reflection and River’s, could see the distance between them. A foot. Maybe less, but it seemed like miles because she couldn’t make herself say what she should, couldn’t get the words out of her mouth: I’ve already let it go.
They’d be a lie if she did say them because she hadn’t. She was holding on tight to her mistakes, remembering every bit of her stupidity, her naïveté, her blind devotion to the cause of love.
A cause that had been useless and empty because she hadn’t really loved Dan. Not in any way that mattered. She’d cared about him. She’d wanted to make things work, but she’d wanted it because she’d wanted that childhood dream, the one where she fell in love with a nice guy who fell in love with her.
Dan had never been nice.
He’d been interesting. He’d been determined. He’d pursued her with every bit of his attention, and she’d enjoyed that. She could admit it. From the New Year’s Eve party to the day he’d given her a gaudy engagement ring, he’d showered her with compliments and flowers and gifts.
She hadn’t wanted any of those things, but she’d wanted the dream, and so she’d accepted them and pretended what she had with Dan was good enough.
River didn’t say another word, just opened the door and walked inside. She followed more slowly, the cool, dry air of the library filled with dozens of memories of summers spent curled up in the reading corner, a good book in her hands.
For some reason, that made her teary-eyed. Or maybe it was River that made her that, his cold expression and hard gaze daring her to pick up the conversation where they’d left off.
“Brenna!” someone cried, and the moment for saying what needed to be said was over.
She turned, pasting on a smile as a short, dark-haired woman ran over and threw herself into Brenna’s arms.
“I can’t believe you’re really here. Everyone has been talking about you working at Chocolate Haven, but I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to stop in.” She pulled back, smiling in River’s direction. “And is this who I think it is?”
“River Maynard,” Brenna offered, and the woman squealed with delight.
“I knew it! If you’d known what a crush I had on you when I was a kid, River? You’d surely have taken advantage of me.” She laughed, the pealing sound of it bringing back the memory Brenna had been looking for.
Amanda Dillinger.
The shy, awkward girl she’d made friends with in kindergarten. They’d been buddies all through elementary school, but middle school had changed Amanda. She’d gotten a little wild, started hanging out with kids who liked to push the envelope. That hadn’t been Brenna’s kind of thing. She’d been content with her books and her daydreams and her studies.
“Sorry, I’m not sure I remember you,” River said as he scanned the library.
“Amanda. Used to be Dillinger. Now it’s Waters. Do you remember Jack? He was the star football player your senior year.”
“Not really.”
Amanda blushed, but she was undaunted. “Well, most people do. He was quite the star. Anyway, we got married right after high school, had a couple of kids. They’re both in middle school now and Jack does estate planning. I work here.” She smiled, waving toward the library’s shelves. “Are you two looking for anything in particular today? Some special book I can help you find?”
“We’re looking for someone actually,” River responded. “A guy named Joe. He—”
“Joe? He was out back this morning, sleeping next to the Dumpster. He asked me if it was Saturday. I guess that’s when he usually comes? I’m never here, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Did he leave?”
“No. I felt so sorry for him, I let him come in and help me stack books. Then I gave him some hot chocolate and a doughnut. Next thing I knew, he was sound asleep in the back office.”
“He’s still there?” River asked, and Amanda nodded.
“I didn’t have the heart to wake him up. I planned to call my supervisor later to ask what she thought I should do with him, but . . . I guess I won’t have to do that now. He’s this way.” She walked through the main room of the library, then through a dimly lit hallway. She opened the door at the end of it. “I thought he was homeless or something. Not that it’s common here in Benevolence, but every once in a while people find their way here from a city.”
She flicked on a light, stepped aside.
At first, Brenna didn’t see anyone. Then she noticed the lump on the floor under a desk. Joe was curled up on his side, his head resting on his backpack.
“Thank God,” River said quietly.
He stepped into the room, knelt down near the desk.
“Joe?” he said.
Joe didn’t move.
“Joe!” he said more insistently, touching Joe’s shoulder and giving it a little shake.
Joe swiped at his hand, mumbled something incoherent.
“Come on, buddy,” River insisted, all the patience in the world in his voice. “We need to go home.”
Joe mumbled again, but he turned over, his face breaking into a huge smile as he saw River.
“I’ve been looking for you, buddy,” he said, sitting up and nearly bumping his head on the bottom of the desk. “Where you been, River? Huh? Where you been?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” River replied, taking Joe’s hand and tugging him to his feet. “You didn’t get on the bus. We were worried about you.”
“I had to run away,” Joe said, waving at Brenna. “Hi,” he said, and she smiled, relief making her knees weak and her muscles limp.
“Why in the world would you do something like that?” River grabbed Joe’s backpack and hefted it
onto his own shoulders.
“You said I was home.”
“You were.”
“They wanted me to get on the bus and leave, but I was at home. Right? I was already at home. And now I’m at the library. I’m at the library, right?”
“Yes.” River sighed, dark shadows under his eyes and a hint of a beard on his jaw. He looked tired, and Brenna wanted to reach out and take his hand, ask what she could do to make his burden lighter. She’d waited too long.
Just like she always seemed to.
Before she could act, he was moving, leading Joe toward the door. “Come on. I need to bring you back to the house, and then I need to go get Belinda.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Scratch that. We’re both going to have to go get Belinda. Then we’ll go home.”
“What should we scratch? Huh, River?” Joe bounced enthusiastically. Obviously, his night outside had left him none the worse for wear.
“I’ll take you home, Joe,” she offered, and River frowned.
“You’ve got enough going on at the shop,” he said, his expression still cool, none of the warmth she was used to seeing in his eyes.
“The chocolate is made. The fudge . . . well, that’s going to take way longer than I’ll ever have. May will be fine for another half hour. You go get Belinda. I’ll call the sheriff and tell him that we have Joe. You ready, buddy?” she asked, and she walked out of the library, Joe bouncing along beside her.
She should have felt good about what she was doing.
She should have felt happy.
They’d found Joe.
She was taking him back to the ranch.
All was right with the world.
Except that it wasn’t.
She grabbed her purse from the shop, let May know she’d be back soon, and then got in the Chrysler. It started up like a charm, the new spark plugs River had put in doing their thing.
She was a fool and she knew it.
Worse, she’d missed every single opportunity River had given her. And he’d given her plenty; he’d offered her plenty. He’d demanded nothing except that she be brave enough to take a chance, honest enough to admit her failures, and confident enough to move toward what she wanted.
When had she stopped being those things?
Before Dan?
After him?
Did it even matter?
“Idiot,” she whispered, and Joe gasped, his eyes and mouth wide open.
“That’s a bad word,” he said. “I know it’s a bad word.”
“I’m sorry, Joe,” she said, pulling up in front of Belinda’s house, her heart heavy and aching and sore.
She’d thought she’d come to Benevolence to start again, but maybe River was right. Maybe she just wasn’t willing enough to let go of the past to do that.
Mack and Huckleberry were waiting on the front porch. They converged on the car, helped Joe out of it, grabbed his backpack, and ushered him into the house.
Brenna thought Mack might have muttered a thank you, but she wasn’t sure.
She pulled out of the driveway, headed back toward town, but that little road, the one that led to the cabin? It was right there, and she found herself turning onto it, driving down it, parking the car.
Yes. She needed to be at Chocolate Haven.
Yes. She needed to learn how to make the dang family fudge.
But she thought that more than that, she needed just a few minutes to be alone.
* * *
All’s well that ends well.
Dillard again, his voice speaking out of the past and straight into River’s mind. The sun had set hours ago, the freshly painted walls glowing softly in the chandelier light as River moved through the downstairs, checking windows and doors, making sure everything was locked up for the night.
Somewhere above him, a floorboard creaked. Probably Angel, checking on Joe again. She’d made one mistake and she’d vowed never to make another one. She was young. She had plenty of time to make plenty more, but River hadn’t told her that.
Let her try. Let her fail. Let her pick herself up and go on again.
“All’s well that ends well,” he muttered, stepping into Dillard’s office. The window was closed and locked, the room dark except for the muted glow of the hallway light. He thought he could smell the cigars Dillard had always loved, thought he could hear his laughter drifting on the breeze outside the window.
And why wouldn’t he be laughing?
River had spent half his teenage years telling Dillard there was no way he’d ever be the guy who took care of other people’s problems, that he’d never sacrifice his time, his money, his dreams to take care of a bunch of losers.
At the time, he hadn’t realized Dillard had never seen his foster kids as losers. He’d never looked at their limitations. He’d never counted their pasts or their problems against them.
Now, River understood.
He looked at Huckleberry and he could see the potential. He looked at Angel and all he felt was pity. He looked at Joe and he knew he couldn’t send him back to a place where he didn’t feel like he belonged.
He sighed, walking into the kitchen and checking the back door. It was unlocked and open, and he could see Mack standing on the porch beyond it.
Strange, because Mack was usually in the barn by this time of night, bedded down on the hay and thick blankets he’d brought with him when he’d arrived.
“Hey, man,” River said, stepping outside. Fall was there, the cold air spearing through his jacket and T-shirt and seeping into his bones, the wind carrying hints of wood-burning fires and icy rains. “Everything okay?”
“Just thinking,” Mack said, his back to River.
“About?”
“This place.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t plan to stay.” He turned, the light falling on the thick scars that mottled the side of his face. “When I came, it was because I’d met Belinda at a food bank, and she’d told me she needed a little help around her place. I thought I could get a couple of free meals out of it, a warmer place to sleep in the winter.” He shrugged. “I didn’t plan to stay for very long.”
“Are you thinking of leaving?”
“Depends on if I’ll be stepping on your toes by sticking around.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Freedom Ranch was yours before it was any of ours. Angel, Huckleberry, Joe, they’re followers. They get a good leader and they can do just fine. Me and you? We’re both leaders, and sometimes more than one is too much in a place this size.”
“This place needs more than one leader. The kids are nuts, and Joe needs constant supervision. I’ll be away a couple of times a month because I’ve still got restaurants to run in Portland.”
“I guess I forgot about that.”
“I didn’t. I’m going to need a manager here. You know the property better than anyone but me, so I think that job should be yours. I’ll pay you a good working wage. We can work out the details once you agree to it.”
Mack snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need your pity, River. I don’t want it either.”
“What pity? I’m offering you a job. Take it or leave it, but if you leave it, this whole damn place will probably fall apart while I’m gone.”
“Hire someone else. There’s people all over the place that can do a job like this.”
“They aren’t people who Belinda loves, and they aren’t people who love her in return,” he said bluntly, and Mack sighed, ran his hand over his scars, and shook his head.
“Do you always have to bring her into it?”
“Would anything else work?”
“No.”
“Then, yeah, I do. So what’s it going to be? Yes to the job? Or no?”
“You know it’s going to be yes.”
“Good. I’ll write up an offer and present you with it later this week. You can negotiate the terms, but I’m not saying I’ll change anything.”
“Fine.”
/>
“One more thing, Mack.”
“What?”
“How about you consider sleeping in the house? It will make me feel better about leaving Belinda when I go back to Portland.”
Mack grunted a reply that might have been a yes or a no.
Then he walked down the porch stairs and disappeared into the darkness.
So much for that.
River had given it a shot. Maybe in another month or two or twenty, Mack might decide to take one of the bedrooms in the house. If not, River would offer him the cabin. It would stay warm enough in the winter with a fire going, and it was set far enough away from the house and the road to make Mack feel comfortable.
At least that was what River was hoping. He had plans for the barn, for the land, for the house, but he wanted to make sure the people who were already there didn’t feel displaced.
He stood on the porch, waiting for the barn light to go on. It took a few minutes, but when it did, he felt satisfied, content that everyone was where they needed to be. He wouldn’t wake up in the morning and discover Mack had taken off or Huckleberry had run away or Joe had taken another hike to town.
Five miles was a long way for a guy like Joe.
He’d been so exhausted, he’d been asleep at the dinner table, his face slack, his mouth open. River had woken him up and sent him to bed, and it had felt a little like stepping into the shoes Dillard had left behind.
Funny how time changed things.
Or maybe not so funny, because now River was in the same mess Dillard had always been in: caring a little too much for people who might not care very much back.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, felt something under his hand and pulled it out.
The recipe card.
He’d forgotten about that, about Forever Kisses and cups full of love.
He reread it, smiling as he imagined the person who’d written it. Probably some romantic Victorian lady with bright red hair and violet-blue eyes.
An old-world version of Brenna.
Brenna.
She was probably in the kitchen at Chocolate Haven, still working on perfecting the family fudge. He’d told himself he should let her be. He’d tried to convince himself that keeping his distance until she was ready to move on was the best thing for both of them.
Sweet Surprises Page 25
