So, their aborted morning hadn’t been an ending. Things were just beginning. And he’d spent most of the next twenty-four hours telling himself he was good with that.
He wiped all expression from his face when they reached the parking lot. Seth had parked his Land Rover next to Sawyer’s truck and was wise enough to hurry things along and avoid any protracted discussion. “Good morning,” he said to Sawyer, then nodded to the to-go box that Bailey held in her hand. “Beignets?”
She shook her head. “Lost bread.”
Seth closed his eyes in sincere reverence. “Also a good choice.” He shifted his weight off his Land Rover and said, “Think I have time to run in and grab a cup of—” He took one look at Sawyer’s expression and clapped his hands together. “Okay, then, on the road we go.”
“On the road to where, exactly?”
“I didn’t tell him that part yet,” Bailey explained.
“Oh,” Seth said, but regrouped quickly. “Okay. Back up to the mill,” he told Sawyer.
“Shotgun,” Bailey said, and scooted around to the passenger side of Seth’s truck.
Smart move, Sawyer wanted to tell her, but pointed to his truck and said, “In there, kiddo.” She’d managed to get what she wanted, but he thought a little more conversation might be in order, if for no other reason than he didn’t want her to think this was the new status quo.
One thing was for certain, Bailey was definitely coming out of her shell. He just hoped that whatever it was she was emerging into would be to her benefit. She was too smart by half, and twice as sharp as most kids her age.
They drove through town in silence, but when he took the turn at the light and headed up toward Falls Road, he glanced her way, and caught her looking at his tattoo again. She glanced away.
He drove another mile or so, then said, “You want to talk about it?”
She didn’t pretend she didn’t know what he meant. “I knew someone who was in Special Forces,” she said. “He had a tattoo kind of like that. It had more stuff on it, though.”
“Was he a teacher?” he asked.
She shook her head. “My second foster dad.”
That sat Sawyer back. So many directions that could go, he thought, praying like hell it wasn’t a bad one. “Good guy?” he said, trying to find the right way in.
“The best,” she said, with a heartfelt sigh.
Sawyer relaxed. “I’m glad to hear that.” He glanced over at her, relieved to see that her expression was one of fondness, not pensiveness, or worse. “What happened?”
“His wife died right after they took me in.” She quickly added, “I didn’t know her. She was already in the hospital. And I was little then.”
“Did he have kids of his own?”
She nodded. “One. He was a grown-up, though. He was in the Army, too.”
“So he was an older man, then?”
“Like a grandpa,” she said. “Maybe not as old as Miss Addie though.”
He smiled at that. “Did his wife dying mean you couldn’t stay?”
“No, I stayed. I was there longer than anywhere else. I think he would have adopted me. But he had P.D. . . .”
“PTSD?”
She nodded. “Yeah. That. He had bad dreams. And sometimes he thought I was in the Army, too.”
Sawyer frowned now. “Did he ever—”
“He never hurt me,” she said, immediately and not a little fiercely. “He loved me.” She turned away then, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her work to get her composure back under her control.
He wished she hadn’t had the kind of life that made her so good at that particular skill. “Good,” he said. “Sounds like he tried to do the best by you.”
“He did. But then . . . it got worse, and he—” She broke off, frowned hard, and looked out the passenger side window.
“Where is he now?” Sawyer asked, hoping that was the easiest way for her to tell him the last part.
“In a hospital,” she said. “Where they take care of soldiers with P . . . D . . . you know.”
“I do. I’m glad he’s getting help. I’m very sorry he couldn’t keep taking care of you.”
“They didn’t want him to. After his wife died, social services came,” she added. “But he said since I was doing okay, didn’t it make more sense to leave me where I was, and so they did. But after he went to the hospital . . .” She let that trail off, and Sawyer didn’t press her further. “I got to go see him once. But he didn’t know who I was anymore. They explained to me that . . . inside his head . . . he was in the war all the time. So, it didn’t mean he didn’t care about me.” She paused, then shrugged. “I read him a storybook. It was one he used to read to me. Goodnight Moon. I don’t know if he got it.” She looked away again. “I didn’t go back.”
“I’m sorry for that,” he said, his heart breaking for her. “I’m glad he’s somewhere where he’s getting help from people who know how to take care of him. I’m sure he’d have done right by you if he could.”
She nodded. “I think so, too.”
Sawyer understood now why she’d believed she could trust him so quickly. Certain kinds of triggers could get implemented at a very young age. That Special Forces tattoo had been one for her. He was just thankful that this particular trigger had served her well.
“Do you have bad dreams sometimes?” she asked, after they’d driven a few more minutes in silence.
He glanced at her. “No. I—I talked to someone. When I got out of the Army. It helped me. A lot. So I don’t have bad dreams.”
“No PD—” She just waved a hand, and that made him smile.
“No.”
“Good,” she said, then sat back, looking both relieved and happy.
Sawyer spent the rest of the drive to the mill trying to unknot the lump that seemed to have permanently formed in his throat. Bailey was a pretty special little girl. And, right or wrong, he was no longer as inclined to be upset with her for her little adventure today.
He turned onto the narrow service road that went down to the lower lot behind the mill. The bigger construction equipment they’d needed early on was gone now, and the materials they were currently working with were mostly all stored inside. Which was a good thing, given everything was still blanketed in a few inches of snow, despite the return to warmer, sunnier weather that day and the day before. Another day or two more of sunshine and the snow would all be gone.
Sawyer backed in so his door was next to Seth’s when they both climbed out. “What’s this all about?” he asked his friend, keeping his voice quiet.
“You’ll see,” Seth said, but his tone was straightforward, not teasing, and he nodded toward the trail behind the mill.
Confused, having assumed whatever it was had something to do with the mill, Sawyer looked at the trail, then back to Seth. “What the hell?”
“I talked to Sunny last night,” Bailey said.
Both men turned to find her standing right behind them. “Okay,” Sawyer said. “I’m glad you two are talking.” Which was true. He realized then that maybe he should have called her himself, instead of simply responding to her text in kind. He suddenly felt like a dorky adolescent who wasn’t confident enough about what he wanted to simply up and go after it. He’d been trying not to be any more aggressive about those wants than he already had been, as well as be respectful enough to give Sunny space and time to make up her own mind. He’d been quite content knowing she hadn’t spent the three-hour-plus, post-storm drive home talking herself out of a future with him, and was still expecting they’d spend an upcoming weekend together. One step at a time. That was the best way to move things forward.
Liar. You post-adolescent dork. He should have called her. Leave it to the ten-year-old to point out the obvious.
“She said she didn’t know when she was coming out here next,” Bailey went on.
Sawyer snapped out of his thoughts, looked back at Bailey, who seemed more than a bit perturbed about that. “Ah. Well, tha
t’s because I’m going to drive out to see her.”
“When?” she wanted to know.
“I . . . uh . . . I don’t know yet.” He was about to tell her about the lamb transport aspect of his trip north, but then wondered if Addie had mentioned that to Bailey yet or if it was some kind of surprise. He looked at Seth, but got no help there. “You’re going up to see her in a few weeks, right? For the school holiday weekend?”
Bailey just sighed and looked at Seth. “See? I told you.”
Seth nodded, lifted a shoulder in a short shrug, like What are you gonna do? “Yep. I thought he might have pulled it together, but . . . you were right.”
“He’s about to get in his truck and head back down to Hattie’s for a fresh order of . . . everything on the menu,” Sawyer told them, his patience for this little game nearing an end.
“Well, come on this way,” Seth said, all Mr. Magnanimous. He turned and followed Bailey out from between the two vehicles, “Let’s go see what there is to see. Then I’ll come down and join you on that protein and carb load bandwagon.” He clapped Sawyer on the back and grinned. “We’re probably going to need it.”
Will pulled up just then and got out of his SUV. “Good,” he said matter-of-factly, “you got him here.”
Sawyer thought he probably looked downright comical when his head swiveled from Will, back to Seth and Bailey, then back to Will. “You’re in on this?”
Will just closed the door of his vehicle and pulled on a pair of heavy work gloves. “Oh, I think we’re all going to be in on this if we have a hope of pulling it off.” In his usual quiet style, he simply turned and headed across the lot, then on across the snow-covered grass toward the opening where the trail led into the woods.
Bailey trotted ahead and fell in step behind him. Seth gestured to Sawyer to go ahead of him. “Go with it, man,” he advised his friend, his smile sincere. “Trust me. It’s all a good thing.”
Chapter Eighteen
“It’s beautiful, Sunny,” Sawyer said, stepping through the French doors at the rear of her town house and into the keyhole garden. “It’s pretty incredible what you’ve been able to do in such a small space.”
“You should see it in the spring when everything is blooming.”
He walked out from under the tent awning that covered the small, flagstone patio and fingered the ends of the multitudinous scarves that were tied to each of the support poles, some silk, some cotton, some woven, most all of them bleached heavily by years of exposure to the sun.
“My mother had a thing for scarves,” Sunny said, humor and honest affection lacing her words. “I guess I’ve gotten used to them, because I couldn’t take them down.”
“I think they’re kind of festive,” Sawyer said, meaning it.
“Oh, no,” Sunny said, “this is festive.” She reached back inside the door and flipped a light switch. It was late Friday afternoon, and being early November, that meant dusk was fast encroaching. The shadows were deep enough that the twinkling lights filling every nook and cranny of the backyard were quite easy to see.
“Wow,” Sawyer said, stepping off the patio, out from under the awning. Strand upon strand of small white party lights had been wrapped in and around the branches of the short dogwood that filled the back corner. They also outlined the edge of the six-foot-tall, board-over-board privacy wall that bordered the three sides of the tiny yard, and were wrapped around the support posts of the awning, and the edges of the awning itself. “That is very festive.”
“I’m only sorry you’re not getting the full musical accompaniment to go with it.”
He arched a brow at that. “Should I be afraid to ask?”
“Very,” she said, smiling and pointing back under the awning to the tall speakers that framed the doorway. “My friends used to call it Woodstock South. But at least old Mr. Bennett next door doesn’t scowl at me any longer when we take our trash out at the same time, so I have that going for me now.”
“Sounds like your mom believed in putting a lot of life in her life.”
“She did that,” Sunny said, smiling as he walked back toward her, happy he was here. And a lot less nervous about it now that he was.
He’d called her the night after she’d returned home from the Halloween party, and they’d talked for several hours. The topics had been as wide-ranging as all of their conversations. Sprinkled with topics of importance, some that were silly and innocuous, all of them entertaining. Five days later, it had become something of an evening ritual between them. She’d text him hello when she got up in the morning, as he’d already been awake and working for a few hours at that point, and he’d call her when they were both ready to turn in. There were the very occasional texts sent during the day, mostly photos showing something one of them thought the other might like to see, but they seemed to have tacitly agreed not to intrude too much into each other’s workday.
She might be a little more sleep deprived than she’d like to be, but with the uninterrupted time at work, it seemed like a minor sacrifice to make. The only downside was that every minute they spent talking had made her miss him that much more. She still heard from Addie regularly, and now she and Bailey were talking, too, and she was enjoying getting all three perspectives about what was going on at the mill in particular, and the Hollow in general. Having met most of the other guild members and their families at the Halloween party, she felt she was really becoming a part of the town and its goings-on. And she liked it. She liked it a lot. Who knew?
In fact, it had highlighted just how cut off she was from the people in her own little world. Mr. Bennett was actually the only neighbor she knew by name, and they were hardly acquaintances, let alone friends. She’d lived in her house her entire life and that was the sum total of her involvement in the neighborhood. She could put the blame on city living and the high turnover that happened in the neighborhoods there, hers included. But she knew it was also due to her not making any effort to reach out. Stevie’s family lived in the Adams Morgan area, right in the city, and they were having block parties every other week it seemed. It hadn’t happened that way for her in Old Town, and yet, she hadn’t been in the Hollow but a few times, and already felt like she knew everyone there.
“Bailey told me about your fairy gardens,” Sawyer said, sliding his arms around her from behind, then turning her to face him. “I’m sure the wee folk enjoy the party lights.”
“Mmm,” she said, sliding her arms around his neck, her body singing to life at his touch. “I hope so.” She was amazed they hadn’t torn each other’s clothes off and gone at it right in her foyer the moment he’d arrived. Their evening conversations hadn’t been entirely centered on local gossip and revealing childhood stories. Some of them, in fact, had gotten downright . . . heated. And in a very good way.
She’d worked herself up into quite a state of nervous anticipation. She knew things would be good between them when they were finally together again, but she’d had some qualms about having him in her home, mostly because he’d be the first man she’d ever invited there. She still went to bed in the room she’d slept in since childhood, though she’d long since had it redone to reflect the adult who lived in it now.
Her mother’s room was simply her mother’s room and she couldn’t imagine moving in there, particularly since by the end it had far more resembled a hospital room, complete with adjustable bed and racks for holding various bags of intravenous fluids and oxygen tanks.
She didn’t think she’d ever be comfortable claiming it for her own. She thought she might turn it into her office, with built-in library shelves to store all of her rapidly expanding research materials.
“Where are your thoughts?” he asked, kissing her forehead, then nudging her mouth up to his.
“On you,” she said. “On having you here. It’s not something I’ve done before.”
“I know,” he said, because she had told him that already. “If it’s not comfortable, I told you I’d be happy to book a room and—
”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s fine.” She stretched up to kiss him again, thrilled beyond measure that she could simply and finally do that. She thought she might be doing it often over the next few days. Bank them for the next time they were apart. “It really is,” she told him when he eyed her skeptically. She fingered the collar of the pale blue chambray button-down he wore. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you in something other than sweaty T-shirts or fur.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
She laughed, and he caught her in a soul-searing kiss before she’d finished. By the time he lifted his head, more than her ability to breathe had been compromised. Her knees were feeling a bit wobbly as well.
“I missed you, Bo Peep.”
She smiled and flushed and felt basically pretty damn good all over. “You should know, I’ve had to return it to the rental shop,” she said with mock gravity, placing her hand over his heart. “So, if you had some kinky ideas about pantaloons and a shepherd hook—”
He covered her hand with his own and matched her mock gravity. “As sexy as that outfit was, what with the millions of impenetrable layers of crinoline and the turtleneck that covered every inch of your torso, as it happens, the only ideas I had, kinky or otherwise, require zero costumes. In fact, I was thinking a clothing-optional weekend would simplify matters entirely.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Wow, well, how very . . . thoughtful of you. Thrifty, too. Think of all the laundry soap I’ll save.”
“I try,” he said, humbly. “And seeing as your work is all about conservation, we could shower together, too.” He leaned down to kiss the corners of her mouth. “Save on water.”
Blue Hollow Falls Page 27
