Could've Said Yes

by Tracy March

  “I had no control over what Holdren did,” Collin said.

  Birch raised his chin. “But you had control over yourself. If what Holdren says is true, you must have some kind of savior complex that’s caused us way too much trouble. If you hadn’t interfered, we could’ve pointed the finger at the contractor and gotten to work fixing what they broke. Now we have to conduct an official investigation, waste valuable time and resources, and manage this thing from another angle.”

  An investigation?

  Collin had seen a few of those play out during his time at the EPA. They were usually long and painful. Somehow they turned out okay for the agency, but they rarely ended good for the people involved.

  “You’re being relieved of your duties here,” Birch said. “Effective immediately. When you get back to Durham, you’ll be assigned a low-profile position, pending the outcome of the investigation. There’s likely to be disciplinary action.” Birch nodded several times. “Possibly termination.”

  Collin’s heart slammed against his ribs. “Let me get this straight. It was okay when everyone thought I was responsible. But now that I’m not, there’s an investigation and I might be fired?”

  Birch narrowed his eyes to slits. “I think I’ve made the agency’s position clear. You’re to report to Durham, effective Wednesday, prepared to fully cooperate with the investigation.”

  Wednesday?

  No way could he ride his bike back to Durham in one day. And why would he bust his ass to get there anyway?

  “I can report on Monday,” Collin said. “I have some things to wrap up here, and I’m driving back to Durham. I’ve got plenty of leave built up, so I’ll put in for a few days.”

  Birch shook his head. “They might need you before Monday.”

  “Then they can call.” Collin pressed his shoulders back, figuring he didn’t have anything to lose by standing his ground. “Will that be all?”

  “Watch your tone,” Birch said. “And don’t talk to the media.”

  Collin stood and left the office, without another word to Birch. He strode out to the parking lot, got on his bike, and headed to the gas station. A full tank and he’d be free to ride as fast and far as he wanted.

  The weight in his chest bore down on him as he pulled up to a pump at the station on the edge of town, took off his helmet, and started gassing up the Ducati. He held the nozzle in one hand and scrubbed the other one through his hair, trying to get his head around what had just happened. Everything he’d done in this town had turned into a disaster.

  “Hey, man,” a guy called.

  Collin glanced away from the pump, catching sight of Bryce, who’d just come out of the convenience store. Wearing a baseball cap and work clothes, he had already torn into the bag of beef jerky he held in his hand.

  “What’s up?” Bryce said. “They shut the site down early and give you guys a break?”

  Collin shook his head ruefully. “Not hardly. But they did give me a break.” He shrugged. “They’re sending me back to Durham.”

  “Already?”

  “Let’s just say it’s an unexpectedly early departure.”

  Bryce winced. “Hate to see you go, man. And I’ll tell you, that was a stand-up thing you did for Gary. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  If only Ellie felt the same way.

  Then what? He’d still be headed back to Durham.

  Collin nodded, not sure what to say to Bryce. He didn’t regret what he’d done for Gary, but it was hard to take praise for it, considering how badly that decision had jacked up his life.

  “Leaving tonight?” Bryce asked.

  Collin shook his head. “In the morning.” The gas nozzle clicked. He pulled it out of the tank and hooked it on the pump.

  “You coming, Bryce?” a man called from the driver’s seat of a big, dirty white 4x4 pickup.

  Bryce nodded at the guy, and turned his attention back to Collin. “Good luck to you, man. Hope to see you back here sometime.” He held out his hand and Collin shook it firmly, reminding him that he’d met some really decent people in Thistle Bend, despite the hard time he’d caused himself.

  Fueled up and ready, Collin got back on the bike and headed out of town. His chest tightened as he took the road toward Gothic, white-knuckling the handgrips, laying on the throttle, and churning up a plume of dust behind him.

  You’re to report to Durham. Effective Wednesday.

  Birch’s voice echoed in Collin’s head. As if he could just jump on a plane tomorrow and be at his desk on Wednesday, scrubbed and ready for the investigation that would go on forever. He hated to think what was ahead of him in Durham, or what was behind him in Thistle Bend. The only person he gave a damn about right now was Ellie, and things with her were shot to hell, too.

  He cruised through Gothic, and past RMBL, thinking of Ellie and the tour she’d given him.

  Eating ice cream, meeting Brian.

  Going hiking, having a picnic.

  Seemed as if he’d been a different person then. Ellie had said as much when she’d stood up to the bald guy at the arts festival, telling him why she liked the picture of Collin she’d painted.

  It reminds me of the relaxed and easygoing guy I knew before the breach happened and rocked his entire world.

  He wished he could’ve been that guy for her.

  Wish I could’ve been a whole lot more than that.

  Not far past RMBL, there was a sign for Judd Falls, the ones Ellie had said were named after the one hard-core guy who stayed in Gothic after the town died, and thousands of other people left. He swerved the bike onto the access road and maneuvered it up the pitted, rocky climb to the parking area.

  Collin stopped the bike next to a red, mud-spattered Jeep, the only other vehicle in the shady clearing. He got off the motorcycle and started the hike up to the falls. Colorful wildflowers bloomed like crazy along the trail—columbines, chiming bells, and larkspur. He recognized them from flipping through a coffee-table book in his rental house during one of the nights he couldn’t sleep. The sound of rushing water grew louder as he climbed, passing a small seep and pool along the way. At times, the thick woods thinned, and he caught killer views of Gothic Mountain and Paintbrush Peak, and the maroon and pink ridges in the distance.

  It would all be idyllic if Ellie were here with him…

  But she’s not. And she’s never going to be.

  Collin rounded a bend and stepped into a clearing, water roaring. The trail had led him to a dramatic viewpoint, about halfway up Judd Falls. Water sluiced down multiple rocky tiers into a deep, frothy crevasse far below.

  I’ve hand tinted at least a dozen pictures of Judd Falls.

  He heard Ellie’s words as if she were standing next to him. She’d said the pictures always sold quickly. It was plain to see why.

  Collin headed over to a shady, weathered bench overlooking the falls, and sat, thinking about the picture Ellie had painted for him, and about their bet. Hopefully she’d sold it to someone else, because he never wanted to see it again. There’d be no picture, and there would be no wilderness camping.

  He propped his elbows on his knees, and blew out a long breath.

  Get over it, Cooper.

  They’d had a hot fling, pretty much what he’d been aiming for from the start. It had ended badly, and he needed to move on. His train wreck of a life was back in Durham. He had to hit the road and get back there, and figure out how to fix it.

  Collin bowed his head, and the inscription on the bench caught his eye.

  To the wayfarer, friend or stranger, this seat is offered in the name of Garwood Hall Judd, The Man Who Stayed.

  But Collin had no reason to stay in Thistle Bend. And come tomorrow, he’d be the guy who left.

  Chapter 23

  After sleeping in on Monday morning, Ellie had turned on some music, taken a long, hot shower, and put on a pair of soft, gray leggings and her favorite light blue tunic. Now she had turned to the task of getting everything in her studio back i
n order—the gallery wasn’t the only place that was turned upside down when she’d been preparing for the festival.

  Ellie started to tackle the darkroom, but negatives of the pictures of Collin stopped her in her tracks. Her heart stuttered, and she swallowed hard. As she gazed at them, everything Brian and Matt had said last night rushed through her mind.

  He was protecting Gary and his family. After he decided to help the guy out, he couldn’t very well tell the truth.

  Maybe—

  Ellie’s phone rang. She picked it up off the counter and glanced at the screen.

  Merri?

  She answered. “Hi, Merri.”

  “Hello, dear. How’s our award-winning artist?”

  Despite her heavy heart, Ellie couldn’t help but smile. “Still pinching myself, and feeling almost human after getting some sleep.”

  “I hate to bother you, but Milly and I were out for a walk earlier, and we saw that you were home. We were wondering if you’d come up to the house—we have a little something for you?”

  “That’s so nice,” Ellie said. “But I wish you wouldn’t have.” They’d done so much for her already.

  “We wanted to. We’re so proud and happy for you.”

  “Aw, thanks.” Ellie loved that she had pleased them. Seeing those sweet little old ladies smiling would definitely lighten her mood. “When should I come?”

  “We’re working on some lemon-blueberry cheesecake bars at the moment, so how about in an hour?”

  Ellie glanced at the clock. “I’ll be there at eleven sharp.”

  She took the usual path to Milly and Merri’s, admiring the way the sun streamed through the treetops that covered the wooded trail. Puffy white clouds shaded the sun at steady intervals as she crossed the lawn and stepped onto the cobblestone walkway. She glanced at the garden out back—rich, varied greens with pops of vibrant color.

  Ellie went to the back door and knocked. The heavenly scent of lemon and vanilla wafted through the screen.

  Milly came to the door and opened it. “Come in, sweetie,” she said, her green eyes as bright as the dress she wore that matched them. Glimmering jeweled combs held the silver ringlets of her hair away from her oval-shaped face, her apple cheeks rosy. She was the younger of the two sisters, who were equally petite and spry, and both in their eighties, although Ellie wasn’t sure exactly where.

  “Smells delicious,” she said as she entered and hugged Milly. She owed it to Milly and Merri—and herself—to act cheery. She followed Milly down the hallway that led to their huge, top-of-the-line kitchen—all white marble and stainless steel, yet homey, with a pinch of magic in the air.

  The sisters had the place tidy and clean. The only evidence that there had been baking going on was the mouthwatering aroma, and the plate of lemon-blueberry cheesecake bars sitting on the island next to a shirt-sized gift box tied with a yellow bow.

  Ellie’s heart tumbled.

  “Hello,” Merri said cheerily. She stood near of one of several spacious marble counters—the one with a panoramic window above it that looked out over the gardens. Silvery-green leaves shimmered in the vast aspen grove beyond, and rugged purplish-gray mountain peaks soared in the distance.

  Merri, as light on her feet as a pixie, hurried over and hugged Ellie. Not a strand of hair strayed from the bright-white bun at the nape of her neck. Her blue eyes sparkled.

  “You made us so proud,” Milly said.

  Ellie beamed, and it wasn’t an act. She was proud of herself, too. “Guess I’ve got a little cred now.”

  “You’ve always had cred in our book.” Milly grinned.

  Merri picked up the gift box and handed it to Ellie. “This is for you, for doing such a wonderful job in the arts festival. We knew you would.”

  Ellie untied the bow and opened the lightweight ivory suede box, surprised to find the gift hidden by pages of the Thistle Bend Times, folded like tissue paper. She peeled it back, revealing a gorgeous royal purple envelope with filigree edges, Ellie written on the front in scrolling silver script. She smoothed her fingers over it. “So pretty.”

  Milly and Merri beamed.

  Ellie carefully tore the flap away from the wax seal that was stamped with a heart, and pulled out a beautiful embossed ivory card, and a check for four hundred and fifty dollars. Her stomach fluttered, and she shook her head. “This is too much.”

  “Actually,” Merri said. “It’s just enough. Your Jurors’ Award will get you into the festival next year, but this money will pay for your booth fee.”

  “A corner one,” Milly said. “So you’ll have prominent placement.”

  Ellie swallowed against tears. “That’s incredibly generous. Thank you so much.” She put the card and check back in the box, and hugged Milly and Merri. Both of them were tiny as birds, and had hearts bigger than anyone she knew. “First the gallery—now this. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  “We just want you to be happy.” The tone in Merri’s voice told Ellie they’d guessed that something was wrong, despite her success at the arts festival.

  They know what happened with Collin and me.

  The sisters had packed the picnic she and Collin had taken on their hike, and snuck in the Cupid’s Arrow truffles. They walked the property often, had probably seen Collin’s motorcycle parked at her cottage—every day for a while—and no doubt heard him coming and going. Collin hadn’t been around for a couple days, but that’s not the only reason they knew something was wrong. Milly and Merri had ears everywhere in town. They always had a way of knowing everything.

  Ellie forced a smile.

  “Sometimes things don’t go like we think they should,” Merri said. “And we wish people would’ve handled them differently—including ourselves.”

  Merri was right. Maybe she’d been too hard on Collin. Matt had made a good point last night. She and Collin were getting closer, and building trust. But her expectations had been too high. He hadn’t known her well enough to tell her what he’d done for Gary. And the angst that he’d brought to her place every night had been real—just not based on the reason Ellie had thought.

  “What matters is that we can turn things around,” Merri said. Her eyes and Milly’s glinted, like the sunlight on their patent leather shoes. “You have the answers—it will all work out.”

  Ellie headed back to her cottage, the gift box in her hand, a wrapped package of lemon-blueberry cheesecake bars on top. When she got home, she put the cheesecake bars in the fridge and took the gift box back to her studio, planning to wrap it back up prettily and put it on one of the shelves as a keepsake. She opened it, pulled out the newspaper pages and her card.

  Before she got sidetracked, she took out the generous check Milly and Merri had given her and did a quick mobile deposit with her phone. She put it back in the box before she put the lid on and tied the yellow bow. One day she’d open it again, see the check, and remember how proud Milly and Merri were of her today.

  Ellie spent an hour getting things straight and clean in the studio and darkroom, trying to keep her mind off Collin and the text Matt had gotten from Carl. Would the EPA really fire him for what he’d done? It seemed as if they’d be relieved that a contractor was responsible for the breach—not one of their own.

  Now that she’d gotten things in order, it finally hit her that everything was over. The arts festival was behind her, and so was her relationship with Collin. Exhaustion settled over her like a heavy blanket, and she decided to take a nap. Sleeping was the only way she could get Collin off of her mind. Even then, he’d show up in her dreams. She’d catch glimpses of him wherever she’d go, but she could never actually reach him.

  Ellie slept for hours, haunted by the same dream. By the time she woke up, the sun was setting, the sky swirled with color. Stepping into her studio, she checked out the brilliant oranges, yellows, and pinks, the view spectacular from her windows.

  The newspaper pages that had lined the gift box Milly and Merry gave her lay folded on the ta
ble. One last thing to clean up. Ellie grabbed the pages and headed into the kitchen to put them into the recycling bin. But when she got ready to toss them in, one of the headlines caught her eye.

  The Calm Before the Spill.

  She unfolded the page. One of the full-color pictures she’d taken at the Big Star site on the night of the breach was featured below the headline. It was a great work-in-progress shot, with men the size of ants and heavy equipment the size of Matchboxes on the bleak tan turned soil, and light gray rocks surrounding the mine entrance. The tailing ponds added a shot of blue.

  Photo credit: Ellie London.

  She narrowed her gaze, assessing her work. She wouldn’t call it art, but she’d definitely captured a great shot of the site…

  Before all hell broke loose.

  Ellie shook her head slowly, studying the picture. A fleck of dark yellow among the gray rocks caught her eye—tiny as a pinhead, but noticeable to her. Figuring something had gotten on the newspaper, she swiped her fingers across the page, trying to wipe it away.

  The yellow fleck didn’t budge.

  Ellie furrowed her brow and took a closer look at the picture. But she couldn’t tell if it was a color drop that had happened during printing…

  Or something else entirely.

  Her pulse picked up pace as she grabbed the paper, carried it to her studio, and sat in one of the chairs. She booted up her laptop and clicked to the pictures she’d taken at the site. The one in the paper had been taken from the trail along the rise above the site, midway up to her favorite shooting spot. She hadn’t noticed the dark yellow dot when she’d turned the picture in, but, sure enough, it was there. Leaning forward, she zoomed in on the picture, but the dot only became blurrier.

  Curious if it had shown up in her other shots, she clicked to the next ones, taken from a different angle at her preferred, higher vantage point. Now that she knew what she was looking for, her gaze went directly to a swatch of dark yellow amid the rocks, clearly out of view of the workers in their positions around the site. She zoomed in. The yellow plume was adjacent to a shadowy cleft—the entrance to the tunnel from which the spill had come.