Blue Hollow Falls

by Donna Kauffman

“Sorry?” he said, his own smile a shade wry.

  She shook her head, still smiling. She looked up at the sky, felt the punch of the grandeur splayed out above her, the enormity of it all, and felt so tiny and insignificant by comparison. With the entire universe on display, how bad could her problems be?

  “Helps put things in perspective, doesn’t it?” he said.

  She nudged the side of his leg, giving him a sideways smile. “Get out of my head, Sawyer Hartwell.”

  He took her hands and helped her slide down from the truck gate. “It wasn’t your head I was trying to get inside of,” he teased, and reached around her to help dust off the back of her coat.

  Purely out of self-preservation, she finally made herself step around the side of the truck and away from his touch. “I should probably be getting back to Addie’s,” she said by way of response. “I—I can go over everything with her tomorrow before heading out.” She glanced at him, found him looking at her, and for once, his expression was unreadable. “If you’d like to be part of that, we could come to the mill maybe. Once Bailey is at school.”

  “You in a hurry to leave?”

  “No,” she said, surprising herself with that bit of truth. And not just because she wasn’t quite done basking in the glow he so effortlessly created. “But I wasn’t planning on spending that much time. Tomorrow is my only free day for the next week and I can’t—”

  He lifted a hand and sounded calm, steady, when he spoke. “Not a problem. If you and Addie wouldn’t mind coming by the mill, I would like to hear the particulars of the trust. I’d also like to give you a set of the plans. You should have a record of what’s being done. You can show them to your lawyer if you think that it means changing anything in the trust. I’ll sign whatever needs signing, so you’re covered, legally, in case anything unforeseen happens at the mill.”

  She nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  “I appreciate your not creating any obstacles to the renovation.”

  God, they were being so . . . rational, so responsible, so adult. It made her want to scream. It made her want to fling herself back into his arms and beg him to take her back to that mindless place that was all about feeling, and needing, and wanting . . . and leave all this responsible adulting stuff until later. Much, much later. She was so sick and tired of being responsible.

  But that’s what she did, wasn’t it? That was her role. Some things never do change. “I have no interest in making things difficult,” she told him truthfully. She just wished difficult didn’t come with this particular territory. “Quite the opposite. I want to do right by Bailey, and otherwise I will stay out of your hair. You’re doing a good thing. I’ll also be honest and say I’m glad you don’t expect or want anything from me where the renovation is concerned. Win-win.” See, she told herself. We can be friendly, do our business, get back to our lives. “You know, maybe this was a good thing,” she added, the words out before she could think them through first.

  “This?”

  She motioned between them. “Yes, this. Probably just as well we went there, briefly anyway, so we wouldn’t always wonder about it.”

  Something flashed across his face, but in the shadows, she couldn’t tell what. His expression was unreadable. “Probably,” he agreed, but for once, he didn’t sound like he was being completely forthright.

  Well, that wasn’t her concern. Or couldn’t be, anyway. She had to look out for herself. And wasn’t it grand that she only had herself to look out for, for a change? Don’t complicate that, Sunny. Revel in it.

  “So, I guess friends with benefits is out?” He immediately lifted his hand, laughing when her mouth dropped open. “Kidding.” He waited a beat. “Mostly.” He smiled then. “Too soon?”

  She found herself smiling with him. She wished his teasing made her feel like things were back on track. Instead it made her want him like she wanted her next breath. “Actually, if I thought I could handle it . . .” Now it was her turn to laugh outright when his expression went momentarily slack. “Alas, I’m not cut out that way,” she hurried on to say, quite sincere now. “Trust me, over the years, my social life would likely have been a lot more entertaining, not to mention my stress level greatly reduced, if I’d been able to get the hang of letting sex be just a physical thing.” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture and found herself being baldly honest with him again, thinking how funny it was that she’d been more open, more honest, more frank with him, than she’d ever been with anyone else. “But no, I pretty much suck at not getting emotionally involved.”

  “I can’t fault you there,” he said, smiling with her. “I also can’t lie and say I didn’t work at it maybe a little harder than you did.” His grin returned, and she thought she caught that twinkle in his eyes when he added, “When I was on leave, sex was fairly high on the to-do list.” The smile faded, and his tone sobered. “For me, the emotional entanglement part wasn’t my Achilles’ heel. But, what I found was that, after a time, the lack of it made the physical part less fulfilling.” Now he lifted his hands, then let them drop to his sides again. “Going for any more than that didn’t seem fair, though, knowing I was going right back to another mission, another tour.”

  She tilted her head, studied him.

  His laugh was a little self-conscious, which was entirely endearing. Like he wasn’t enough of that already. “What?” he asked, when her smile spread to a grin.

  “Nothing. Just that I appreciate your candor. A lot of men—most, maybe—would have trotted out some sympathetic b.s. designed to lower my defenses. Your experience rings more true.” She laughed. “And probably did an even better job without your even trying.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows and twirled an imaginary mustache. “She’s on to my evil plan.”

  “Seems kind of cruel, then, really, you know?”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’re no longer married to the Army. I’m no longer married to being a caregiver. And we still can’t just jump.” She sighed. “Well, we could, but . . .”

  “I know. And yes, that whole universe thing. Like I said, sometimes it’s the thing we can’t have that makes us examine what we do want more closely, commit to it more firmly.”

  There was a long pause; then they both broke out laughing.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t buying that, either,” he said. He closed the tailgate of the truck. “Come on. I’ll get you back up to Addie’s. We have an early start at the mill in the morning. I’ve got a bunch of guys showing up at the crack of crack.”

  “Did you finish the roof? I really like the look of that slate.”

  He nodded. “We did. And I dug up drawings and photographs of the mill, back from the beginning. Slate was used in one of the earlier incarnations. I’m guessing it got too expensive when times grew lean. But it will hold up longer than the tin, and it has the added benefit of not being so loud when the rain beats on it.”

  “Wise,” she said. “I wondered if the stone was historically accurate. I liked the look of the tin panels, too, but the slate . . . it’s just beautiful.” Sunny paused before heading to the passenger side door, and held his gaze. “Thank you for bringing me here. For sharing this very special place with me. You know this is right for you, so you don’t need to hear it from me. But . . .” She took a moment to scan the full vista, looking at the ring of shadowy mountain tops, then up to the moon that had finally risen above their smooth peaks. She let out a long, cleansing breath. “You’re very fortunate to have found such a perfect fit.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly, standing right behind her. “Yes, I have.”

  She thought she felt him lean down and brush a kiss against her hair, but it was probably the wind rustling a few strands. She didn’t look back, afraid of what she might see. Or, more truthfully, what she might not.

  Chapter Twelve

  He never should have taken her up there. Sawyer banged a nail through the plywood into the floor joist with two heavy raps, then lined up the next one. He’d trie
d telling himself there was so much work to be done on the cabin, chances were by the time he moved in it would look, feel, be entirely different than it was now. It wasn’t like she’d even set foot inside anyway. He banged the next nail home, lined up another.

  Yet he knew that every time he reached that crest, he’d be hearing her swift intake of breath when she’d seen the high pocket meadow for the first time. When he pulled in and parked in front of the cabin late at night, he’d be remembering the delight that had crossed her face as she’d stepped out of his truck, and looked up at that ocean of a sky for the first time, marveling as she pointed to the Milky Way. He drove another nail home with a single swing.

  “Somebody didn’t get his Bo’s coffee this morning.”

  Sawyer didn’t bother looking up at Seth. One problem with working alongside someone who’d gone through the kinds of situations the two of them had gone through was that they could read each other with barely more than a glance. Sawyer wasn’t interested in broadcasting this particular set of thoughts in Seth Brogan’s direction. “I thought you were finishing up framing out the main floor bathrooms. Will’s up on the roof completing the work on the cupola. He wants to get the scaffolding up on the chimneys by Wednesday. Looks like we’re going right from Indian summer to early winter. Freeze warnings for next week.”

  “It’s about damn time,” Seth said. “I was up there with Will earlier. Felt like one of Hattie’s grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  “I’ll remind you that you said so when we’re freezing our asses off in here getting the rest of the build-out done with no heat.”

  “Speaking of Hattie,” Seth went on, “I’m calling in a lunch order shortly. I have to head to town to pick up that drywall tape we ordered. Sue called from the post office, said it was on the truck that just came in, said we might want to snag it now since it wouldn’t go out on the mail truck for delivery here until Monday.” He grinned. “I have to tell you, small-town living has its perks.”

  Sawyer banged in another nail and lined up the next. “Yes, it does. Nothing for me from Hattie’s, thanks.”

  Seth poured himself a cup of water from one of the two big jugs they kept on site. This one was balanced against a corner beam up on the second floor where Sawyer was working. The floor had been framed out and he was putting down the plywood subflooring. “You know they make these things called nail guns now. We even have a few of them.”

  Sawyer made no response, just lined up his next nail. One good swing, then he lined up the next.

  “Although you might be giving that gun a run for its money.” He downed almost the entire cup of water in one swig, then dumped the remains on his head. “So, who put the bug up your ass?” He crumpled the cup against his thigh and made a two pointer into the paint bucket propped in the other corner. “Let me guess. Could it be a certain brunette botanist with a penchant for disintegrating greenhouses?”

  “Horticulturalist,” Sawyer replied, then added, “Bailey corrected me on that score.”

  “Ah. How is our youngest business partner doing? School going okay?”

  “From what Addie tells me, she’s having no problems with the schoolwork. But given she tested out at a grade level above her age group, that’s not entirely a surprise.”

  “How about the social part?” Seth asked, crouching down and handing Sawyer more nails. “Making any friends? She’s been going a few weeks now. That part going okay?”

  Sawyer wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked up. “How should I know?”

  “Because she’s your shadow when she’s not in school?”

  “Maybe. But she’s not much for talking, if you haven’t noticed.” Sawyer paused a moment, then took a breath. It wasn’t Seth’s fault he was in such a piss-poor mood. He had only himself to blame for that. He looked up at the man who was his closest friend. “Maybe you should try talking to her, see what you can get out of her. Women like you.”

  “Ah,” Seth said, a grin spreading across his dirt-streaked face. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  No, it’s the exact opposite of that, Sawyer wanted to tell him. It had been eight days since Sunny had watched him sign the legal documents she’d brought with her, then said her good-byes to everyone and driven back out of the Hollow, and out of all of their lives. Eight days, and seven very long, sleepless nights. And he was getting exactly nowhere trying to forget what had happened out there under the stars that night.

  “I heard Addie mention something about Bailey heading to D.C. to spend some time with our Miss Sunshine. When is that happening?”

  “A few weeks from now. There’s a school holiday for Veteran’s Day. Three-day weekend.”

  “Maybe you should drive her up.”

  Sawyer banged in another nail, then looked up again. “And why is that?”

  “Because you and Miss Sunshine apparently have some kind of unfinished business between you. And I think I speak for everyone here when I say we’d all be forever grateful if you could find some way to work it out.”

  Sawyer opened his mouth to tell his good friend exactly what he could go do to himself, only in some latent part of his sleep-deprived and, yes, dammit, sex-deprived brain, he recalled words of wisdom learned from his therapist. Accept the help of friends. Seth was a smart ass, but he was also the person Sawyer trusted the most. He couldn’t talk to Addie about the situation, because he was pretty damn sure Addie had sent him out with Sunny that night hoping exactly what had almost happened, would happen. She wanted her people around her, and she wanted them all to be happy, and in her mind, Sawyer and Sunny needed a whole lot more than family camaraderie to be truly happy.

  “To be honest, if I knew how to work out our problems, I’d have driven up there myself by now.”

  If Seth seemed surprised by the sudden confession, he was wise enough not to let it show. “Maybe you should consider my solution then. You’ll have Bailey there playing hall monitor, if you’re worried about keeping your hands to yourself. Amongst other things.”

  “Very funny,” Sawyer said, lining up another nail.

  “Oh, for me it’s all incredibly entertaining,” Seth agreed. “I’ve known you a long time now, and I’ve never once seen you this wrapped. What I want to know is, what’s stopping you? You’re not blood related. Is it—” Seth broke off, grinned. “Did she shut you down? Is that it?” He hooted. “Well, well. Maybe I should give her a call myself then. I think we struck a little spark there, if you know what I mean.”

  “That’s not it,” Sawyer said tightly, thinking maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to confide in Seth after all. “Just the opposite, actually,” he added, almost more to himself.

  Hearing perhaps the honest uncertainty in his friend’s tone, Seth looked sincerely concerned. “Well, that sounds like a good thing, man. A very good thing. So then what is the problem?”

  Sawyer sat back on his haunches and spread his arms wide. “This. Everything.” When Seth merely looked confused, Sawyer elaborated. “I’m rebuilding my hometown, and along with it, my life. She just broke free from a life sentence of caring for a very ill parent. One she loved deeply, so the loss and the freedom are kind of a double-edged sword. She’s just now figuring out what she wants. But what she has is a job she loves and a thirst to grow more in her chosen field. Maybe a doctorate, who knows? And then we have Bailey—we both want only good things for her. And neither of us thinks it would be a good thing to get ourselves all tangled up, only to find there is no way to align our respective orbits. The fallout when things break apart would create all kinds of awkwardness, or worse, in what is supposed to be Bailey’s brand-new, stable, forever home.”

  “So, you’re both making this great sacrifice for Bailey’s sake? Have you asked her about it?”

  Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Did you just hear anything I said?”

  Seth nodded, his expression even, his tone sage. “I heard everything you just said. And I think you and Sunny are using a ten-year-old kid as
a lame excuse for being too chicken shit to take a chance on each other.”

  “What happens if—”

  “What happens if Addie suddenly up and croaks?” Seth countered, rather heatedly, which stunned Sawyer into momentary silence. “What happens if you fall through the roof of that godforsaken cabin you bought while trying to rebuild it?” He crouched down on his haunches, too, and held Sawyer’s now-stormy gaze solidly with his own. “What I’m saying is life offers no guarantees. Something you and I know a damn sight more about than most people. So if you and Miss Sunny Meadow decide you don’t want to risk having a go at each other, fine. Then just say that. Don’t lay it on life choices—which either one of you could change if you needed or wanted to. Would it be easy or simple? No. Would it require compromise on both your parts, maybe even a little sacrifice? Quite probably.” He braced his arms on his knees and leaned a hair closer, his gaze intent as he added, “But whatever you do, don’t lay it on Bailey. Because that little lady has bigger balls than the rest of us combined when it comes to taking her chances and muscling through. You’re doing her a grave and rather insulting disservice if you think otherwise.” With that, Seth straightened and strode over to the ladder that led down to the main floor. “I’m heading into town. Be back in a bit.”

  Sawyer wanted to order Seth to move his hard ass right back over to where he stood so Sawyer could respond. But one, Sawyer was no longer Seth’s commanding officer and Seth no longer took orders from him. And two . . . Sawyer realized he had no response.

  The only thing he did know for certain was that whatever it was the universe was trying to tell him by putting Sunshine Meadow Aquarius Morrison Goodwin squarely in his path, he quite clearly had yet to figure out what in the hell it was.

  * * *

  Sunny had her arms full of an overgrown pink calibra-choa that she’d just uprooted when her cell phone rang. She propped the phone on the rock border that surrounded this corner of her backyard garden and glanced to see who was calling. Stevie had said she’d call if she got done taking her mom to her eye doctor appointment in time for an afternoon movie. Sunny couldn’t recall the last time she’d gone to a matinee. Probably not since college. But it wasn’t Stevie. She recognized the area code as being the same as Addie’s—who had gotten in the habit of calling her every other day or so, with this tidbit about Bailey, or that about the progress on the mill. But Addie was in her contact list now. This caller was not.