This Time Around

by Denise Hunter

  The crackling in the room faded.

  Skye and her father peered at Theo.

  Her father frowned. “What Lowe’s order?”

  “Oh, you know. The one for the lumber for the new tree shed. I believe I called it in last week.”

  “Last week?” Her father’s frown turned urgent. “You made an order at Lowe’s last week? Well, I didn’t—they’ve had it a week?” He started reaching behind him, feeling for the “going out” jacket so often laid on the back side of the recliner.

  Theo, cool as a cucumber as he sipped the lemonade, watched Mr. Fuller rise from his chair. “Well, if you haven’t gotten to it, I could run down myself—”

  “Maggie!” he called, stretching his neck toward the kitchen.

  “Right here, dear,” Skye’s mother said, standing at the front door, raincoat on and a duffel bag over one shoulder. She held open a second raincoat for Skye’s father. “Skye, I’ve switched over the laundry, moved the Crock-Pot into the fridge, packed an overnight bag, and made some sandwiches for the ride. Can you be sure to lock up after we leave? Theo, do you mind assisting Ralph to the car? It’s slick out there.”

  He nodded. “Certainly.”

  They passed a smile to each other as she turned toward the door after her husband. Skye could practically see the high-fives they were making with their eyes. Lowe’s was all the way down in Abingdon, quite conveniently all but next door to the hospital. All her mother had to do at this point was stop at the hospital and throw the passenger door open beneath the emergency-room sign while hospital staff handled the rest.

  “Oh, and Theo?” Her mother turned as if a thought just occurred to her.

  “Yes, Mrs. Fuller?”

  “The seedlings came in today and a heat wave is expected next week. Those seedlings, as I’m sure you’re aware, will need to get in the ground immediately.”

  Theo looked slightly startled. “Oh. Yes. Of course.”

  “And the tractor will need to be seen to.”

  Theo’s uncertainty deepened. “Oh, sure. Right.”

  She flapped her hand. “But I’m sure you can handle an upturned tractor.”

  Theo swallowed.

  Skye’s mother let the silence linger, her smile making a panoramic move around the room until it landed on her daughter. “Although even the hardiest of farmers would no doubt appreciate a second pair of hands for the job.”

  Skye’s eyes narrowed.

  Do not say it. You do not have to say it.

  You are a grown woman who is perfectly capable of not saying it.

  “I’ll help.” Skye shut her traitorous mouth the second the words flew from her lips.

  Her mother gave a short nod, as though she was the conductor of this little play and her flautist performed the solo right on cue. “Terrific. Now that it’s settled, Theo, I went ahead and turned up the heat in the cabin and slipped an egg casserole in the fridge for you in the morning. Let’s be off, then, shall we?”

  Theo’s startled gaze turned from her mother to Skye, and Skye did her best to avoid his eyes.

  If Skye wasn’t so peeved at the turn of events, she would’ve laughed.

  Instead she followed her parents and Theo outside and stood on the gravel driveway, watching her parents’ truck swing onto the road and the taillights fade until they disappeared. Her all-consuming thought was that she was exactly in the one place she had told herself she never wanted to be.

  Alone. On a mountaintop. Beside the man who broke her heart fourteen years ago.

  Chapter 3

  Theo

  She was exactly as he remembered.

  Her hair was shorter now, the thick auburn waves curling around her chin instead of trailing long past her shoulders. The loose sweater ornamented her natural attributes; the olive color offset her brown irises. She used less eyeliner now, but the subtle black line framing her almond-shaped eyes highlighted her best feature in a more refined way than it had in those days of oversized plaid shirts and ripped jeans. She looked . . . positively radiant.

  Skye stood in the driveway watching the road, both hands tucked in the back pockets of her slim jeans. That stance. Another thing that hadn’t changed about her.

  The full moon and a thousand stars hung directly overhead. A few were blocked by the occasional cloud, but the sky was free of light pollution and the air was thick with dew from the rainfall. Theo inhaled, feeling as though his lungs were being purified. The gurgling creek on the other side of the road was the only sound for miles. Nothing but forest lay behind them. The single road in front of them took the occasional traveler up and down the mountain on either side, and to Evergreen Farm ahead.

  Where rows and rows of Fraser firs and white pines glinted in the moonlight.

  A rush of wings overhead caused Theo to wonder if the pounding in his chest was so loud it had caused the bird to flee.

  He took a step forward. “Skye.”

  Skye dropped her head and turned. Smiled, but it looked forced. As though he was blocking her way. As though she had been trapped and now she had no choice but to converse. “So. Exploiting a man’s weakness for his own good. Nice play. Tell me, are you actually planning on building a new shed?”

  Theo smiled slightly as he kicked at a piece of gravel. “We are now.”

  Everyone knew Mr. Fuller was one of the most hardworking men around, but he had a classic weakness: he always worked alone. This worked splendidly as he single-handedly managed “his farm” throughout the year, but during the Christmas season, the very presence of part-time staff—with their jingle-bell hats and ho-ho-ho attitudes—was enough to give him hives. Theo couldn’t count the number of complaints he got each year about the “cranky old man getting in the way” while the staff tried to sell trees and hot chocolate. At this point, the complaints were practically a Christmas tradition.

  A genuine smile drifted like a whisper across her face, then a cloud seemed to cover her again. She started moving toward the trailer.

  Theo slipped both hands into his own pants pockets. He waited for several seconds as the creek filled the silence and the distance between them grew. But his question grew, too, with every second that passed. “So . . . I can’t help noticing it’s not a holiday and, unless I’m mistaken, there’s no memorable occasion going on at the moment. What brings you back to Virginia?”

  Skye paused, her hand on the door handle.

  For the first time that evening Skye’s eyes brightened as she looked back at him, and she tipped her head toward the dilapidated stone cottage bordering the farm across the road. The old, abandoned shack held quite a few of their childhood memories—

  Theo frowned.

  The house was covered in shadows by the overhanging trees, but as Theo squinted he made out the simple frame of the cottage. And the bulky object parked beside it.

  Theo squinted even more and the compact form of a Prius evolved. “Is that . . . a car?”

  “It’s my car.”

  “You? But why”—he ignored the growing pressure in his chest, the sense of something about to unfold he wasn’t quite prepared for—“are you parked there?”

  “Why? The only reason why. Because I live there.”

  Theo whipped around from the house to her. He took a step toward her. Then back toward the house. “You live there? Here? In that?”

  Skye’s smile slipped from her face as she tugged the door open. “Yeah, well, I know it’s not as grandiose as the cabin you have up there—”

  Her eyes darted to the Evergreen Farm sign swinging oh so slightly above the long gravel driveway where, at the end, the Watkins family cabin nestled in a stand of pines.

  He’d offended her. But honestly, how she could have been offended was unfathomable. The old cottage was at least a hundred years old; it had been uninhabited for more than fifty. There was a reason they’d snuck in there for wild adventures as kids: it was deserted, every window was either cracked or shattered, and half the floor was missing.

  B
ut then something else startled him as he pulled his gaze away from the house.

  She had moved back. Here. To Whitetop.

  Skye was back.

  The realization hit him like a tidal wave.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Twelve weeks,” Skye said, reaching inside and flicking off the light switch. The living room blackened, leaving only the porch light above her head to illuminate them.

  The door creaked as it shut, and she turned the lock with her key.

  “Well, thank you for coming,” Skye said in a perfunctory way, hopping down the stairs instead of stopping to look him in the eyes. She spoke like she was passing a mailman on the way to the mailbox. “I’ve gotta get some things sorted out if I’m going to spend the next week running the farm.”

  “You mean helping me run the farm.”

  Her foot hovered over the bottom step. For a long moment she was silent, her silhouette tipped downward as she stared at the mud-slopped grass. Then, with a determined jerk of her head, she looked up. “Look. I appreciate you”—she seemed momentarily stuck as she waved her arms around—“coming out here to check on Dad . . . but . . . I think we can go ahead and give up this illusion about you running the farm. We both know this is about as far out of your arena as humanly possible, and anyway . . . I’m sure you have plenty of . . .”—she indicated his coat, again seeming to search for words—“duties of some sort to handle with your life in Abingdon, so I’m going to make it easy on you. I know how to handle a tractor. I know how to put the seedlings in. Frankly, this will all be easier if I handle it myself. Consider yourself off the hook.”

  Theo stood rooted. He heard everything she had said, but the words and sentiments flew by faster than he could snatch them. He wanted to speak, felt the need to speak, but also felt the sneaking suspicion that if he didn’t choose each of his words wisely, he’d miss an opportunity he couldn’t identify. Frankly, he needed to get alone and think.

  After several seconds ticked by, she jutted a thumb behind her. “Well, my shack is calling. I’d better run. Good night, Theo.”

  Theo nodded, which she seemed to take as release from the conversation, and began walking down the driveway and across the road.

  He watched her figure slowly disappear beneath the overhanging trees as she stepped onto the small bridge leading to her—most unbelievably enough—new home.

  A single car and its beaming headlights momentarily lit up the road between them on its trek up the mountain.

  There was so much to process.

  Skye had returned. Half a lifetime had passed since their last conversation. They had no doubt changed since their last meeting. He was in a steady relationship with a woman who brought more life and joy to his days than he’d experienced in years.

  It was clear Skye wanted him to stay out of her life.

  But at the bottom of all the mess and complication was one thing Theo realized the moment she opened that door. One thing he could not deny when he saw her face after all these years.

  She was the one person in the world he had never, ever, stopped wanting to see.

  Chapter 4

  Skye

  She was halfway across the short bridge over the creek before she took a breath.

  So she’d been a little hard on him.

  No, Skye. That’s the lie you’re supposed to feel. Keep your grip.

  She knew better. If her parents wouldn’t admit it, accept it, and deal with it, she would. This was why she came back. To fix it.

  And by it she meant her parents’ undeniable life situation.

  Proof one: the slowly dilapidating double-wide behind her. There was no denying that for all his flaws, her father was one of the hardest working, loyal men in all of Whitetop, perhaps the state. He’d watched over Evergreen Farm for the past thirty years as though he owned it. He treated the land and business with such respect, frankly, he should’ve owned it. Heaven knew he was the only one who kept the farm alive and well all these years. Whereas the Watkinses liked to “play country” and roll up on the occasional weekend in their flawless, spun-by-Norwegian-mountaintop-villager-where-bells-chime-across-the-town-announcing-every-vegan-sweater-finished outfit to make s’mores over their granite-top fire pit, her father was out there in blizzards or heat waves, rain or shine, keeping that farm going. Getting it done. The Watkinses owed the success of Evergreen Farm entirely to Ralph Fuller.

  And yet a sixteen-year-old babysitter would be offended if offered the salary rate she’d seen on that piece of stationery.

  Signed by Theo himself.

  Theo was the Fullers’ employer, and despite all the fond memories of Skye’s childhood, despite his undeniable charm and the care for her family he appeared to show, her parents needed to grasp the truth: he was the reason they lived this way. He, with his luxury cars and tailored suits, who for several years now had been capable of providing a living wage but didn’t.

  Forget the grievances of two decades ago.

  That experience may have pained her enough to run away to Seattle, but this? This was a whole new brand of infuriating.

  He could try to fill the gaps with platitudes, but since he didn’t back them up with action, they were only empty words.

  In the meantime, she had a farm to run.

  She stepped into her yard, and the honeysuckle bushes overtook the scent of Theo’s cologne. Following the cobblestone path, she slipped the key out of her pocket, then moved onto her slate porch step.

  “Skye, wait.”

  Skye pressed her lips together.

  Forced herself to turn.

  Theo stood at the head of the path, surrounded by heady earth and dimpled leaves collecting teaspoons of mist, alien to her world in his pressed tie and the beige overcoat swaying lightly at his calves. If he thought he could possibly handle her world . . .

  “Do you think the old path is still there?”

  “What?” She followed his nod toward the swath of trees between the back of her cottage and Evergreen Farm. Beyond it, at least half a mile away, stood the dark silhouette of the Watkinses’ cabin backing up to the foot of the ridge. She didn’t want to say it. Right now, she didn’t want to remember the memories they’d had. But the silence grew.

  “It’s been a long time,” she said at last. “I doubt it.”

  He started loosening his tie. “I’ll give it a shot anyways.”

  She blinked. “You’re . . . going to give it a shot. Walking into those woods. At night.”

  A smile played on his lips as the tie uncurled and slipped off his neck. “At night,” he repeated.

  A few seconds passed as Skye tried to hold her firm expression in place. She would not bite. She would not take the bait.

  In fact, she would walk into her cottage right then. Say Suit yourself and shut the door.

  But even as she edged toward the door, she couldn’t help watching him stride over and stop at the perimeter of the woods. Her frown turned to a squint as he began stretching one arm over the other.

  She suppressed the bucking smile trying to escape as he began doing squats.

  After he started taking what appeared to be practice steps into the black woods, only to step back in search of another entry point, she couldn’t help calling out, “Theo, what are you doing? The last time you attempted to walk through those woods in the daylight it took you two hours.”

  A stick tapped his ankle and he jumped back a solid three feet into the safety of her yard.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I recall,” he said.

  “You came out the other side all but naked—”

  “The memory haunts me.”

  “—covered in mud and leaves like a thirteen-year-old girl covers herself in glitter—”

  “I had no choice but to camouflage myself.”

  “Theo.” She leveled her gaze at him. “You came out carrying a whittled stick like you were fighting for your life in Lord of the Flies.” Her sweater fell off one shoulder
and she tugged it up before pointing at the woods. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove right now. And I don’t know all the ways you’ve changed, but I do know there is no way you are going to walk through those woods in the pitch-black dark. So why don’t you just go on home?”

  “In my defense,” Theo said, turning to face her properly, “the bear was hunting. In the woods. For me.”

  She threw a hand out. “For the millionth time, it was a bear. A tiny, adolescent black bear—”

  “A rabid beast cloaked in deceivably adorable fur,” he replied.

  “Well, maybe if you’d listened to me and hadn’t doused yourself in that ridiculous fruity concoction you liked to call cologne—seriously?” Skye put her hands on her hips as he began rubbing dirt over his glinting cufflinks. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Simple,” Theo said. “It’s been months since I’ve been back, and I would be remiss if I didn’t take the opportunity to enjoy the spoils of a fine evening like tonight—”

  As if on cue, a thick raindrop landed squarely on Skye’s head. She looked up to see one of those little ominous clouds anchoring above their heads. “It’s raining.”

  “It’s misting,” Theo replied, holding his palm upturned toward the sky with a smile. “‘As dew leaves the cobweb lightly threaded with stars’—”

  “Aaand there he is,” Skye said, turning on her heel. She raised a hand over her head as she walked toward her door. “Well, you enjoy that good old-fashioned poetry walk. Let me guess. Your favorite little guy, Sterling?”

  “Teasdale,” he replied, clearly suppressing a smile at the fact she so easily remembered his most annoying high school habit of reciting poetry at every leaf and stump like some afflicted peasant of the 1500s. “‘Dew.’”

  “I’ll see you around.”

  “Bright and early,” Theo called back, turning the flashlight on his phone toward the forest.

  Skye felt the grinding of wheels in her stomach but forced herself to ignore them.

  “Wait a moment. What is this? This is new.”

  Skye turned. The beam of Theo’s phone flashlight fell upon a building twenty yards off and moved slowly up and down its glass walls.