Leaving Yesterday

by Zoe Dawson

  The room had a door to the left, leading into a small bathroom that housed a big, old tub with clawed feet, and even from the doorway, Rafferty could see an ancient medicine chest with a wavy mirror. The furniture in the bedroom was old, but that didn’t detract from the ageless beauty of it.

  “Trace has been taking care of that family ever since his mother left them and their daddy lost it over her. Hit the bottle hard. He died last year,” Eden said as Rafferty ran her hand over the rich wood of the massive burl walnut dresser, which was still graced by the original beveled mirror set into a hand-carved frame.

  One more layer of information to make it more difficult to just dismiss Trace as a womanizer. Sean was nothing like that. He and his brothers barely spoke, and she couldn’t imagine Sean ever holding his brother like that, holding him so fiercely protectively.

  Her heart squeezed.

  Eden turned down the bed, smoothing down the coverlet. “I hope you’re comfortable here. Not exactly where you thought you’d be spending the night, huh?” The bed was metal, it’s most recent coat of paint being white. It was a marvelous old filigreed thing with a wild variety of curlicues, doodads, and baubles twisted and turned into the elaborate design. It was amply covered by a handmade patchwork quilt of various prints and ginghams. The beautiful, intense colors vibrant against the white backdrop. Eden reached over and turned on one of the exquisite glass lamps on oak nightstands on either side of the bed.

  “No.” She smiled at Eden. The pretty woman had an inner glow, her blond hair tousled and her blue eyes a bit tired.

  “I’ll give you the tour tomorrow after you get up. Feel free to help yourself to coffee if you’re up early. I’m one of those perky early risers I’m afraid, so if I talk your ear off, just growl at me to put a sock in it.”

  Rafferty smiled, thankful that she’d broken down in this charming little town with these people. Regardless of the upsetting situation with Trace’s brother, it seemed like a good place to recharge and get her bearings.

  —

  Greg Chambers studied the ad boards for his upcoming meeting with Hurricane Commercial Fans. His concept was that the fan was so powerful, it had blown the continents apart 200 million years ago, blown Columbus off course, and blown Amelia Earhart into another dimension. They were quirky, fun ads, and he was more than ready for his meeting. He swiveled his chair at the sound of his office door banging open.

  His aunt breezed through, looking every inch the tough-as-nails lawyer. But he knew that there was a heart of gold hidden inside.

  “Did we have an appointment, Aunt Susan?” He smiled as she kissed his cheek.

  “No, my boy,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

  “Lunch, then?”

  “No. I dropped by to talk to you about Rafferty.”

  He sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

  She hesitated. “Tell me or I’ll call her and get it out of her anyway. I have no compunction in throwing you under the bus.” He grinned, giving his aunt a wink.

  “Typical.” She laughed and sat down on the edge of his desk. “I’m worried about her.”

  “Raff is tough. She’ll pull through.”

  “Her car broke down in the middle of nowhere Montana.”

  “In a small town?”

  “Yes, I know you’re not a fan. She says it’s quaint but run-down. We both know that run-down small towns are not quaint.”

  He nodded. His stomach knotting at the memory.

  “There’s more. A man, the mechanic who’s fixing her car. She says she’s not interested, but it’s easy for vulnerable women to be taken advantage of. I see it all the time in my practice.”

  He rose from his chair. “No one is going to take advantage of Raff.”

  “Normally, I would say that was true. She’s not a pushover by any means, but she’s hurting, Greg.”

  He rubbed his aunt’s arm and guided her to a chair. Leaning back into the desk, he said, “Does Ross know about this?”

  “About the car? Yes. About the mechanic? No, I don’t want him to worry.”

  “When is he going to make an honest woman of you, Aunt?”

  “He and I have talked about marriage, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility. We’re just content with the way things are right now. How about you? You’re thirty-five and single. Quite a catch. What is taking you so long?”

  “I drop the subject,” he said, holding up his hands.

  “It’s Rafferty we need to focus on, sweetie. She’s twenty-eight and vulnerable about being divorced. She’s on business for Ross, and she wouldn’t shirk it, but not answering our calls is something to be concerned about. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, I agree.” He grasped the edge of the desk. “Would you feel better if I flew out there?”

  Her face softened and her eyes went moist. “Yes, I would. You can just check on her and see how she’s doing. Maybe you can convince her to fly to California, then stop on the way back and pick up her car for the return trip? Or better yet, just ship it back here for a proper evaluation.”

  After his aunt left, he was sure that when Raff had disappeared, ignored calls, it was because she was hurting and avoiding anything, especially concerned people asking her endless questions about the divorce and inquiring how she was all the time. He understood that. He would hate that, too. Now she was stranded in that hick town. Alone. Possibly vulnerable.

  He hated that idea even more.

  Chapter 6

  For the tenth time since she woke up, she zoned out. Trace. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was his cobalt-blue eyes staring out of that arresting face. It wasn’t often she’d seen someone with such dark hair and such blue eyes. She wondered if they went a hot, incandescent blue, instead of cold and hard when he was angry. He would be an interesting man to get to know. Not that she would get to know him. She was only in Laurel Falls for such a short period of time. Nothing here fit into her plans at all.

  Especially the way he juggled women.

  She rolled to her stomach, unable to refute the fact that she was wholly and femininely aware of Trace Black. Of course, the man had looks, but that was only skin deep. How could she forget what he’d looked like after his shower, showing up in the kitchen half naked and totally wasn’t self-conscious about it? He was well put together with those broad shoulders, heavily muscled chest, thick arms, and washboard abs. She’d lost her breath at the sight of him, his hair a mess of spikes the color of warm brown sugar, and that grin. The way he was not being all that subtle about who he thought she was. The elbow in the ribs was warranted, even if he smelled like hot, male heaven. No, it was his depth, making what should have been a dismissal of an unsuitable, cowboy Casanova all that much harder.

  Trace was not one dimensional.

  Rafferty scowled at that, her nose wrinkling, trying to erase the image of those eyes, that body, the whole darn package from her mind, but all she was left with was an overwhelming sense of loneliness. She had failed with Sean, making her wonder if she would ever get it right. Find someone true, someone to build a life with, and someone to stop the dissatisfied feeling that stirred in her. She rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes, trying to fight the wave of excitement that washed over her at the thought of seeing Trace again. She guessed it wouldn’t hurt anything to fantasize about him. He was ripe for that, just as long as she was aware of the score.

  She’d have to get in line. Ha! Not going to happen.

  She’d see if she could get a rental car and scout the land, wait for her car to be fixed, and take in Glacier National Park like she’d planned. Her stay just got extended a bit. That’s all.

  She rose, threw the covers back, and opened the blinds. Her breath caught as the view slammed into her with a vengeance. “Wow!” she said. “That is something.”

  The falls, a stunning wash of heavy white water, bracketed by the craggy and snow-tipped Rockies, was a definite change to the usual concrete and glass outside her wide windows. S
he stood there for several minutes taking in the scenery, the sun illuminating everything in bright beauty. She broke away and headed for the shower. Afterward, she dressed in a mid-thigh print dress in brown, cream, and green tones, eyelet lace ruffling the bottom, heavy brown tights, a denim jacket, and a green scarf around her neck.

  Pulling on a pair of knee-high brown suede boots, she left her room. Anzu’s door was open and the girl was not inside. She had space-themed posters on her wall, her bed covered with a homemade quilt, but with an edgy spin. It mixed polka dots, damask, and zebra prints. Her bed was also white metal without all the embellishments. The only thing she had were colored lights threaded through the headboard rods. A small white desk with a laptop on it and a black metal chair sat near the window along with a white dresser. Her closet door was open and showed a multitude of colorful clothes. There were also braided rugs that matched the colors of the comforter.

  Rafferty went downstairs and entered the modern kitchen. Eden was sitting at the table reading on an e-reader, and Anzu was sitting next to her, toying with a bowl of cereal. She had on a long black sweater with a white artistic skull out of flowers, a red, green, and white plaid skirt, black patterned stockings, little skeleton hands as earrings, and a pair of green Doc Martens with thick white socks. She looked punk chic. It was the only way to describe the teenager.

  Anzu glanced up as Rafferty entered. Eden put down the e-reader and smiled. “Coffee’s ready,” she said.

  “Good morning,” Rafferty said.

  Eden stood and opened a cupboard door, snagging a mug, and Anzu didn’t respond, just went back to her bowl. She was more than subdued from the lively girl she’d met yesterday. Her eyes were swollen and dull.

  Rafferty poured herself a cup of coffee and used the little creamer sitting next to the pot. She sat down beside Anzu and noticed a sketchbook near the girl’s hand.

  “You draw?”

  “Yes,” she responded, covering the book protectively. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll miss the bus.” She pushed her chair back and without another word headed out of the kitchen, picking up a backpack near the door as she left.

  Eden sat down at the table. “She’s raw today. Not as much of a morning person as I am. She’ll come around. She already thinks you’re cool.”

  “Really? How can you tell?” Rafferty said, unsettled by the girl’s obvious misery over the situation with Harley Black.

  “She asked questions about you this morning, but clammed up when you came into the kitchen. She likes the way you dress, and that’s saying something, unlike me who doesn’t know anything about fashion.”

  “You look pretty presentable to me. Professional.”

  “Simple and boring, you mean.” She waved her hand when Rafferty went to disagree. “I haven’t known anything about anything since she was, oh, about eleven.”

  “Yeah, parents have a shelf life, it seems. I gave my dad plenty of trouble between eleven and probably around twenty. He was good-natured about it though.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She died when I was a baby. My dad didn’t remarry, but he’s had a longtime girlfriend who’s a lawyer. Her name is Susan. Although she’s not my biological mother, she’s been like a mom to me.”

  “Anzu isn’t my biological daughter. She was left on my doorstep when she was three. I took her in after a fight with social services. Being a single woman adopting was difficult. Luckily, they looked with favor on me as a professional. She’s been the best thing in my life.”

  “She’s lucky to have you.”

  “Thank you. I’ve got to open my practice, but make yourself at home. We’re running low on stuff, and I have to get to the market—”

  “Let me do that for you. It’s the least I can do.”

  “That would be a big help. You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “The list is on the counter near the toaster, and thanks. Enjoy your coffee first.”

  Rafferty enjoyed the coffee and continued enjoying the view. It didn’t take long for her to get to the market. So different from the crowded streets of the city. As she approached the general store, she saw two old men sitting outside at a small table playing checkers. One had close-cropped white hair, a full beard, suspenders holding up brown trousers and a yellow checked shirt. The other wore a battered cowboy hat, a denim shirt, and worn jeans. Iron-gray hair touched his collar. On the other side of them were baskets of vegetables and fruits.

  They looked up as she approached. The one in the cowboy hat smiled and said, “Hello there, little lady.”

  “Hello,” she murmured, making eye contact with both of them as she passed and went inside. The bell on the door rang with a chiming ping as she shut it behind her.

  The shopkeeper was talking to a cute, brown-haired, brown-eyed woman near the counter. They looked over and smiled, curiosity strong in the woman’s eyes. The shopkeeper nodded.

  The large store was a cross between a market and a souvenir shop, stocked with a number of photos on the wall and T-shirts with wolf, bear, and elk on them in an assortment of colors on racks to her right. The counter on the left with a glass case was full of jewelry, snacks, drinks, and a variety of other foodstuffs; homemade jams, candy bars, cordials, and licorice decorated the top. She consulted the list and grabbed one of the cute baskets, filling it with the items that Eden needed. When she got to honey, she couldn’t seem to find it.

  She approached the counter, overhearing a snippet of their conversation.

  “…has been selling like hotcakes. I’ll take as much as you can—”

  “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “It’s no bother,” the shopkeeper said, smiling.

  “I’m looking for honey.”

  The woman piped up. “Then look no further. It’s right here.”

  “You’re in luck. We have one jar left. Dr. Clem here makes the best in the county.”

  Rafferty looked at the woman and she smiled. It was infectious. “Thanks, Henry.” She stuck out her hand. “Dr. Clementine Cavanaugh, beekeeper and zoologist, but most people call me Clem. This is Henry Mason. Pleased to meet you.” Henry nodded in greeting.

  “Rafferty Hamilton, stranded visitor and wayward traveler.” She shook her hand and Clem chuckled.

  “You’re the woman everyone’s talking about. The one with the fancy clothes and car. Hails from New York City.” When Rafferty smiled, Clem said, “Yeah, small town. Gotta get used to people knowing your business. Can’t help it. Sorry about the vehicle trouble.”

  “I was, too.”

  Clem laughed, and then they moved out of the way for a customer at the counter who asked about honey, and the shopkeeper promised they would have more in shortly. The woman indicated she’d take some of Clem’s honey hand lotion. She loved it.

  “Hand lotion? You make beauty products, too?”

  “Sure do. The lotion, it soaks in really fast, no stickiness left over. Bath products, hair products, soap, foot cream, body wash, an assortment of massage oils, and even bee venom moisturizer. Honey has natural anti-inflammatory and antibacterial properties. Everything is organic and natural. I’m a stickler for that. You should try some.” She handed Rafferty a tube from the selection on the counter. “On me.”

  “That’s so nice. Thank you. I’d love to try it.” She set her basket down on the counter, and Henry started to ring her up. “What exactly is a zoologist?”

  “Zoology is a subfield of the biological sciences, and we study organisms in relation to their environment. I have a PhD in zoology and work at the U of M in Kalispell.”

  “U of M?” With her light brown hair in pigtails, Clementine didn’t look like she was old enough to drive, let alone have her PhD. She was pretty in a quirky way, especially with those adorable freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, not elegant, but cute, her eyebrows surprisingly dark in contrast with her hair, her chin delicate. Her almond-shaped brown eyes reminded Rafferty of dark c
hocolate.

  “University of Montana, their satellite campus, teaching wildlife biology. For me it’s bees. I started studying their sudden decline.”

  “I heard about that.”

  “That research led me to beekeeping, which then led me to the many products made from a producing hive. I have one thousand.”

  “Hives?”

  “Yes. It’s surprisingly very little work to handle the bees. The products I make are time consuming, but it’s a labor of love. I only teach one to two classes a semester. What do you do?”

  “Work a boring corporate job. Bees and hand lotion made from honey sound much more interesting. How did you get into that?” She hoped her feint directing Clem away from delving any deeper into Rafferty’s profession worked.

  She took the bait because people love to talk about themselves. Also, Rafferty really was interested in what she had to say.

  “I have always been a lover of animals, nature, and the outdoors, and curious about how creatures communicate and contribute to our environment. They captivate me.” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her khaki shorts. A dark brown peasant shirt and a matching khaki vest along with her thick socks wrapped around her ankles and brown hiking boots made her look very outdoorsy.

  “Not too afraid of being stung, then?” Rafferty asked as she paid for the groceries.