Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance)

by Pace, Alicia Hunter

  Will had never regretted selling that ten acres with the pond to Arabelle’s father, even after his view on killing animals for food changed. It was, after all, only a personal conviction.

  The senator had waited a decent amount of time after the funeral before approaching Will. It seemed he’d offered to buy the land from Will’s mother more than once, but she had liked the idea of the yearly income. The senator liked to invite friends and political types to hunt, but he didn’t like for his wife and children’s home to be invaded. He wanted to build a hunting lodge on the property and he couldn’t do that unless he owned it.

  The offer had been fair—more than fair, but not so generous that Will felt insulted because of his poverty. Years later, after he had learned his craft and made some money, Will had asked Arabelle’s father why he had been so generous.

  “You could have easily gotten it for a song,” Will had said. “I didn’t know any better.”

  The man had nodded. “If you’d been an adult on an even playing field, I would have gotten it for what I could. That’s just business. But it was worth it to me for my purposes. And I think there is a special place in hell for people who swindle kids in desperate circumstances. Nothing’s worth that.”

  Will had always liked the man and he respected that answer. The money had allowed him to get out of Mill Town where almost all of his money went to rent.

  Now that he had land, he promised himself he would never pay another cent of rent on anything. People had thought he was crazy when he bought a used travel trailer and a generator and cleared enough land to set himself up a little home.

  It was the best thing he’d ever done. He found peace in the woods—serenity. It was as if he had always belonged there. He didn’t respect the woods yet; that would come later. He’d always been able to draw and had done well in art class, though he’d never thought much about it. Poor people didn’t have time for artistic endeavors. But one summer night, after cutting grass and cleaning out flower beds at the Merritt Country Club all day, he’d gone home, built a campfire, and picked up a piece of wood. With his pocketknife, he’d coaxed a little duck out of it. It was crude, but it gave him satisfaction. So he did another and it was better. Then he moved on to other birds and animals. By the time the Merritt Bobcat Booster Fair rolled around the next spring, he had a whole box full of stuff, some of it not bad.

  He had approached Shine Sipes about sharing a booth. Shine owned the barbershop but, for a hobby, made pine birdhouses, magazine racks, and bookends to sell at the Booster Fair every year. Turns out, Shine’s grandchildren were coming for the weekend and he’d told Will that he would pay for the booth and Will could keep all the money from his own wares if Will would mind the booth the whole weekend for both of them.

  That weekend, Will got a break, when he wasn’t looking for a break, when he didn’t know there were any breaks to be had. Ellery Kane, who turned out to be a master craftsman from North Carolina, saw Will’s little carvings and offered him an apprenticeship in his shop. Ellery, who was half Cherokee, maintained that Will must have Native American blood or he wouldn’t have such talent. Will had no idea and he doubted if his parents had known either. People who were always worried about food for the table and—in his father’s case—whiskey in the cupboard didn’t spend a lot of time worrying about heritage and culture.

  But Will did spend a lot of time learning to please Ellery, no mean feat. Ellery taught him to respect the wood, to feel its life force. He learned right away that you didn’t compel the wood to be something it didn’t want to be. The object that the wood would become was already there; it just had to be drawn out.

  In return for what he learned, Will spent long hours in Ellery’s workshop helping to create the fine furniture that had earned Ellery an impeccable reputation and not a small amount of money. Though Ellery paid Will barely enough to live on, it was the best bargain of Will’s life.

  After three years, Ellery pronounced Will his equal in some areas and his superior in hand carving. He promised Will would have all the work he could do, because Ellery would send him referrals.

  Before he left, Will had said to Ellery, “Sometimes I wonder why you did all this for me.”

  Ellery nodded. “And other times?”

  “You think it was your duty. You think, when you recognize talent, it would be wrong not to cultivate it.”

  Ellery nodded. “I’ve trained others. Only two. You’re my best accomplishment.”

  “Better than that bed that’s in the museum out west?”

  Ellery had only nodded.

  So Will had gone back to his woods in Merritt and set up his shop. The orders poured in. Eventually, he made enough money to build his log house with its six bedrooms, exposed beams, and a stone fireplace big enough for a child to stand up in. Eventually, he made a name for himself. Eventually, to his great sadness, Ellery Kane died and Will had to become choosier about the commissions he accepted because there was only so much that one man with standards could do.

  Somewhere along the way, he came to revere his surroundings and cherish the woods that gave him serenity and satisfaction. He replanted when he harvested and he never harvested lightly. He stopped eating the creatures of the land, though he would sometimes eat fish. The water was alien to him.

  It was the trees that gave him his life, even if they couldn’t give him Arabelle Avery. And he was all right with that. He was all right with everything—even that he wouldn’t be able to work on the music stand until the stitches dissolved in about two weeks. His hand would heal and he would finish then. When he called the client and told him the project would be delayed and why, the man’s main concern would be Will’s injury. Will knew this for sure because he didn’t accept commissions from greedy, impatient people.

  Meanwhile, until he healed, he would consider the large number of inquires from people from all over the world who were begging him to make them a bed, a bread bowl, a jewelry box, or a whole dining room suite. And he would sketch, plan, and walk a property and read the wood in a church with his friend Brantley.

  Life would go on with no surprises and little excitement. There were worse ways to live.

  Chapter Three

  It took a full three days after seeing Will for Arabelle’s anxiety to subside, but she was mostly back to normal. He had come to the office today to have his wound checked, but Karen, their new nurse practitioner, had taken care of that.

  She’d been lying low but it was time to get out. Maybe she would take Avery out for dinner. He loved Lou Anne’s chicken and dumplings. It was cold out, but not so cold that she couldn’t push Avery’s stroller to the diner. She needed the exercise and he could use some fresh air.

  With every step, she felt lighter. How ridiculous was it that she’d been afraid to leave her apartment? She’d been in Merritt for a month now and had not casually bumped into Will once. There was no reason to think that would change.

  By the time she settled Avery into a booster seat and herself beside him in a booth, she was downright cheerful.

  “Coat off!” Avery demanded.

  “Yeah,” she said. “How silly was it of Mama not to do that before putting you in the seat?” Someday, she’d learn all the tricks. “You’re going to have to put Jiffy down for a minute.” She took the stuffed giraffe and laid it on the table.

  As she was working his arms out of the sleeves of his little blue duffle coat, she felt a presence looming over her.

  She knew before she looked up. Maybe it was something about the way he smelled or maybe it was her deep fear detector, but she knew as she raised her face that the eyes that would meet hers would be moss green.

  And they were. The smile that was framed by dimples was warm and sweet. Her heart slammed into her ribcage.

  “Getting some dinner?” he said. He must have come from the back of the diner because he was holding a ticket in his hand. Clearly, he had already eaten, so at least he wouldn’t try to join them.

  “Yes.”
She almost said that Avery liked the chicken and dumplings but, stupid as it was, she thought maybe if she didn’t draw attention to her child, Will wouldn’t notice him.

  On cue, Will shifted his eyes and Arabelle watched him look at Avery for the first time.

  He smiled broader and said, “Hi, pal. You gonna have something good to eat?”

  Avery nodded. “Dump trucks!”

  Will laughed, clearly delighted whether or not he understood that Avery meant dumplings—too delighted. The anxiety was back, full force.

  Relax, Arabelle admonished herself. This is just a sweet man being kind to a child. Nothing more.

  “How’s your hand?” she asked, though she knew. She had looked at his chart.

  He held up his left hand. “Good. Keeping it dry, just like the doctor ordered. No sign of infection. I thought I might see you today when I came in to get the dressing changed.”

  “I was tied up,” she said. “But they took good care of you?”

  “Yes.” He gestured to the table. “You’re eating early.”

  “Yes. That’s the way of a toddler. But no earlier than you. In fact, we’re eating later.”

  “Eating early is the way of a carpenter too—at least one who goes to bed early and gets up early.” Did the pink on the apples of his cheeks darken just a bit? Maybe he was remembering the time the carpenter went to bed early with the doctor. He hastened to change the subject. “I usually eat at home but after I left your office, I had to go to the bank … ”

  Will looked a little sad. This conversation had nowhere else to go and there was nothing for him to do but pay his bill and leave. Small talk would only last so long and she had nothing else to give him. In a way, that was a shame.

  He might have left then but Lou Anne came up with drinks and flatware.

  “I know what this handsome young man wants.” Lou Anne set a small plastic cup of milk with a lid and a straw in front of Avery and a glass of water in front of Arabelle. Lou Anne prided herself on remembering what her regular customers liked to drink. “Arabelle, do you need a menu?”

  “No, thank you. Just bring a large order of chicken and dumplings and two spoons. But first, would you please bring some carrots and green beans? I need to get him to eat that first.”

  “Ah, that’s no problem, is it, pal?” The tone Will took when speaking to Avery was light and intended for a child but not condescending. “Vegetables are good. I had carrots and green beans too. Plus, pinto beans and salad.”

  Avery didn’t reply. The space was getting a little crowded for him—for Arabelle too. But he did cock his head to the side and give Will a shy smile.

  “Will loves vegetables,” Lou Anne said. “He almost always gets the vegetable plate but somehow I can’t resist bringing him a pork chop or some country fried steak anyway. Don’t let it get out.”

  Will just smiled and shrugged.

  Lou Anne bustled off and Will said, “It was nice to see you again. I should—”

  He almost said go. He would have gone then, for sure. But Avery pulled on Arabelle’s arm and said, “Hat off!”

  “Sorry, baby.” She undid the tie under his chin. His coat had a hood but it didn’t fit close enough to keep his head warm. She pulled the knit cap off and absentmindedly tried to smooth Avery’s cowlick.

  “It was nice to see you again too, Will,” she said and was about to slide into goodbye.

  But when she looked up, she saw that something had changed. He was staring at Avery and he wasn’t smiling. The dreamy serenity in his eyes had left and a storm was moving in.

  Her mouth went dry. Her first thought was I should have never moved here. Then she chastised herself. It was only fear that made her have such wild thoughts. Will had no reason to suspect anything, especially after seeing Avery’s blond hair, so unlike theirs. True, his eyes were blue like her own, but lots of people had blue eyes. There was surely a statistic on that. She might look it up when she got home, just to know …

  Will put his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and sat down across from them without speaking. He never stopped looking at Avery.

  Don’t panic. Don’t jump to conclusions. He probably just wants a cup of coffee.

  “Would you like some coffee, Will?” she asked calmly. “I know you’ve eaten, but maybe some dessert?”

  Will finally moved his eyes from Avery to her but he didn’t change expressions. And where was the sweetness that always seemed to emit from him like rays from the sun? Gone. In seconds, a hard edge had taken up residence, chasing away the gentleness.

  Finally, he spoke in a shaky voice. “How old is he, Arabelle?”

  Oh, God. “Two,” she said vaguely.

  “Two, is it?” He nodded his head. “Is he exactly two, as in today is his second birthday? Or are you rounding up? Or down?”

  “Rounding up,” she admitted. “Just a little.”

  “How much?”

  “A few weeks.”

  “How few? When is his birthday?”

  There was no way out of answering that direct question. Still, it didn’t prove anything.

  She called on her strong voice. “March 8.”

  Will turned his lips inward a bit and closed his eyes. Counting.

  “So, he’s twenty-two months. Barely that.” He opened his eyes and nodded. “I see.” And though she would deny it with her last breath, she believed he did.

  Somewhere along the way, all the color had drained from his face.

  “Yes,” Arabelle said. “He is, at that.”

  “Have you ever wondered why I wear my hair this way?” he asked. “Why I have never updated my haircut?”

  What? They were going to talk about his hair now? Well, it was better than talking about Avery.

  “Because it suits you?” she said. And it did.

  “Maybe it does or maybe it doesn’t,” Will said. “But Shine Sipes and I determined long ago that the only way to tame this horrendous cowlick in the front of my head is to have enough hair to put behind my ears. That, or shave my head, and I don’t want a shaved head.” He lifted the hair above his right eye to prove he had a cowlick.

  So what? She shrugged. The silence between the two of them was so fraught with drama that it ought to be taking a bow on Broadway. The only noises were diner sounds and Avery babbling to Jiffy.

  After a few minutes, Will spoke again. “All right, Arabelle. This is what’s going to happen. We aren’t doing this in front of the boy.”

  “Doing what?” she said dumbly. “We don’t have anything to do.”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence and don’t try to camouflage your own. You’re going to feed the boy. Then you are going to take him to Luke and Lanie’s on the way to my house. We’re going to have a talk.”

  “I am not,” she said sternly. “It’s cold. Avery has a schedule that does not include going to Luke and Lanie’s. It’s almost time for wind down play and a story and bed. That’s all we’re going to do tonight.”

  “You are wrong about that. Take him to his uncle and aunt. He can wind down and go to sleep there. I mean it.”

  “I can’t do that, Will!” Her voice was low but it came out in a hiss. “I can’t just show up and leave Avery at the farm with no explanation. That’s not like me. What would I tell them?”

  “I don’t care,” he said evenly. “Tell them I called and said I had a fever and you’re going to pay a house call because I’ve had a pain pill and can’t drive. Says so right on the bottle. Do not drive or operate heavy equipment. Tell them you feel the need to go dance naked in the woods.” He leveled her with a hard gaze. “Tell them the truth. Or nothing. Just do what I say.”

  “No!”

  And beside Arabelle, her calm, sweet child who almost never cried began to whimper. Hating herself, she plucked him from the booster seat, hugged him, and kissed his chubby little cheeks.

  “It’s okay, baby. Nobody’s mad.”

  Avery held out his giraffe to Will. “Give Jiffy love,” he so
bbed.

  Will looked at Arabelle, confused.

  “He hates strife. He wants you to hug and kiss his giraffe to show you aren’t mad.”

  Will took the animal and hugged it to him. “Look, pal.” He kissed Jiffy on the nose. “See? Everybody’s happy. Nobody’s mad.”

  Avery looked skeptical so Will went through the whole love routine again. Avery stopped crying, smiled, and reached for Jiffy.

  Will extended the giraffe across the table and nuzzled Avery’s neck with it. When Avery laughed, Will joined in.

  Then he stood and focused on Arabelle.

  “I should have known that,” he said quietly.

  “Known what?” she asked, though she did not want an answer.

  “That he hates conflict. What giving Jiffy love means. I had a right. I’ll see you in one hour.” He was careful to keep his tone soft and kind.

  “And if I don’t come?” She tried to match his tone.

  “You will.” He paused for a beat. “You’d better.”

  Before he left he extended his hand and she thought he was going to touch her but he bypassed her to ruffle Avery’s hair. “Bye, pal,” he said. “I’ll see you again.”

  Avery said, “Bye bye!” And blew a kiss.

  • • •

  Will sat in one of the four big rocking chairs on his front porch. He hadn’t made those chairs but they were of very fine workmanship—else he wouldn’t have allowed them on his porch. He had bought them from a young Seattle woodworker who was worthy of watching. Will had not yet found someone to mentor but he supported novice woodworkers by buying from them if their wares met his standards. A girl from Connecticut who specialized in spindle turning had once told him that it meant something when someone in their business could claim that Will Garrett had bought from them.

  He doubted that. He’d always thought it was stupid that a store in England would hang out a plaque that said the Queen bought her underpants there. Of course, he might be more particular about a chair than the Queen was about underpants.