Nate studied Marjorie’s face, and though she could be lying about the nature of her involvement with Remy, he didn’t think it was likely. Besides, continuing a witch hunt would certainly tick off the rest of the elders. He softened slightly at the elderly woman’s obvious angst.
“This all makes more sense, and is actually quite a relief. I’m sorry I came on so strong—bad cop, you know.”
Edward Burnsoll spoke up. “I always thought he had a few issues, Margie. It’s not so surprising. We all know you would never intentionally give out information you thought was sensitive. Why do you suppose he’s so filled with hate?”
“Yes, he’s always been an odd duck, a little big for his britches. He had me thinking he missed living in the Pines.” A spark of annoyance lit inside her. “He said he couldn’t face coming back to the place where his parents lived, not even to come clean out their house; I had to go through all my sister’s personal belongings. I had some help, but it was painful, and he should have taken on some of the responsibility. Remy didn’t stand to gain anything by making us merge with Gilmore, as far as I can see. I’d very much like to know what his motive is. It can’t be money; he doesn’t need it.”
“You understand what this investigation will entail, don’t you?” Dalton finally spoke. Everyone looked around the table at each of their comrades, all eyes finally settled on Marjorie.
“Yes, I understand. I want you to do your job; no matter what. I’ll cooperate in any way I can. Make sure he doesn’t have another opportunity to wreak havoc. I’ll continue to talk to him like nothing is amiss, but I’m not going to give him any real information. If there’s anything I can do, maybe pass along a bit of falsehood to help you out, let me know.”
Nate felt the weight of what was to come, for him and for Dalton, and most of all for Marjorie, who had just lost faith in a family member. “Do you know where he is?” Nate asked gently.
“I’m guessing you already have the phone number he calls me from. He doesn’t ever send me anything through the mail. He did mention he’d be taking a trip soon; warned me I might not hear from him for a couple of weeks. But I doubt it will be long, if he’s still trying to keep tabs on the goings-on around here. He mentioned France, but who knows if he was telling me the truth.”
Johnathan Lewellyn stood, signaling the end of the conversation. “You have our full support, Nathaniel. Do what you need to do, and keep us informed. I can’t say how sorry I am that we didn’t listen to you the first time. The fact that we’re being targeted by a relative insider—a former resident—changes things significantly. If he’s still stewing after all these years, he won’t stop now.”
“Thank you, we’ll make sure you’re updated on our progress.”
“Now, about those Sasq-Watchers….”
Chapter 20
Feet propped on an upturned log, in front of the roaring campfire, EV wondered how her backside could still be cold, while the bits of her that faced the blazing flames were far enough past toasty and heading into scorched territory. She dumped the last splash of hot chocolate mixed with cinnamon Schnapps from the thermos into her cup, slugged half the contents, and felt the heat hit her belly.
So rarely did EV drink more than a single glass of wine with a meal, that this second thermos of laced chocolate loosened her tongue and made her tipsy.
“Tell me how it’s going with you and Dalton. There’s more of a vibe there for you than I’ve ever seen you have with anyone else.” Chloe probed gently. They made a good couple, whether EV wanted to admit it or not.
“I don’t know. We’ve been friends forever, so it feels funny thinking about him that way.” EV tossed a twig toward the flames, while Chloe twirled a marshmallow on a stick to get that perfectly browned coating. “He wants more than I can give.”
“Why? You’re not exactly an old woman. And I know firsthand how compassionate and caring you are. Why do you hold yourself back from caring for him? I think you’d be so good together. He makes you laugh.”
“I was engaged once.”
“To Remy? My mom mentioned him.”
“She didn’t tell you the whole story, because she doesn’t know it. No one does.”
Chloe waited quietly, in case asking questions spooked EV into clamming up again.
“Remy and your mom were my best friends. We were like a team, inseparable.” She paused long enough that Chloe began to think EV might not finish her story.
“Mom said the same thing.”
“I never noticed… I was young and naive, totally inexperienced with dating or romance. Backwards, really. So, when he started falling for me, I was completely oblivious. Then, when he finally kissed me, I was scared to death. I think my hormones took a lot longer to kick in than most people’s do. But when they did, I was sunk. I fell headlong. So hard that it felt I’d died and come back to life in a new world. His world. I lost myself in it, and it was everything. He felt the same, or I thought he did.”
Chloe had an inkling of how that felt, but she could tell it had been stronger with EV.
“We made plans for a life together, picked out a plot of land where we would build our house, even chose names for the babies we would have.” She sipped at the sweet, spicy drink. “It was all a mask that started slipping after he visited his grandparents that first time. When he came back, he picked at me; at your mother; at life in Ponderosa Pines.”
“His grandparents’ influence?”
“Seemed like. We fought, and I broke it off with him. This town—what it is now; what we’ve built here—this was my parent’s dream to begin with. I think it passed to me through their blood, because it also became mine. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t let him take that away from me.”
This was not news to Chloe; she’d seen firsthand the passion EV had for her home.
After a moment, EV continued, “After a few weeks, he came to his senses. We reconciled. I thought we were stronger than ever; happier than ever. The next summer, he kept a lid on his attitude, so we stayed strong. We were accepted to the same school, as planned. We moved into off-campus housing. It was like a dream.” There was another pause, and when her voice floated toward Chloe again, it was pensive.
“A month before graduation, I found out I was pregnant—six weeks along.” EV ignored Chloe’s sharp intake of breath. Or maybe she didn’t even hear it. What she did hear, though, were the angry voices from her past. The recriminations from Remy that she had jumped ahead of their carefully laid out plans; the distance that he put between them with his anger; the names he called her, and finally, several weeks later, the gentle voice of the ER doctor who told her she’d lost the baby.
The way Remy flipped after that—acted as though he had wanted nothing more than to father a child; as though she had done something purposefully to lose the baby. After that, another about face. With bewildering harshness, Remy’s parting shot was that at least, now, he was free to go make something out of himself.
He’d had the decency to help her move back home; to bring her baby there to rest before he left; to see that she was comfortable and to never—her parting request to him—tell anyone about the baby, or what had happened between them.
Those were the ghosts that haunted EV’s past, and she laid them before Chloe with carefully chosen words while Chloe’s tears fell like rain.
“It was the baby—my son—who took my heart when he left, because—by then—Remy had already lost it, along with my respect.”
Chloe could find no soothing words to spread over the wound. All she could do was pull EV into a fierce hug that lasted long minutes, while EV finally shed the hardest tears Chloe had ever seen from her.
When EV stopped trembling, Chloe gave her one last squeeze.
“You have to tell Dalton.”
EV’s eyebrows launched into her hairline. “I have to what? Why?”
“Tell Dalton.” Chloe tossed a couple more small logs onto the fire; poked it back to life. She turned her chair sideways towar
d it, so she could watch EV’s face in the glow of the flames. What she needed to say would require tact and diplomacy. “He deserves to know what it is that’s coming between you.”
As expected, EV’s brow furrowed into mutinous lines. “What business is it of his?”
“Well, duh. He’s in love with you, for one. And for two, he thinks you’re still in love with Remy, and that’s why you hold him at arm’s length. It’s not fair. I’m sorry, but it’s not.” She clarified, when EV threw her a dirty look.
“He’s a great guy, and he’s worth you getting out of that rut—even if I have to kick you out of there myself.” Her tone turned gentle. “You have so much to give, and you deserve someone who understands that. Especially after such a profound loss.”
All expression left EV’s face like someone dropped a shutter over it, and Chloe realized that half the problem lay in the fact that EV blamed herself for losing the baby. She stood in the way of her own happiness.
“You know that, right? That it wasn’t your fault.”
“Shut up.” EV muttered sullenly.
“I will not.” Chloe wasn’t sure she had ever felt so indignant for—and at—someone at the same time. “You weren’t to blame. These things happen sometimes, and it’s nobody’s fault. Least of all yours and I bet that’s what the doctor told you, too.”
“She did.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you let yourself off the hook?”
“Shut up,” EV repeated.
“You know I’ll take this to my grave. But if you don’t tell him, you’ll always wonder what might have happened. Don’t go there, EV. Let him in.”
A few minutes later, when EV seemed likely to never speak again, Chloe dropped a kiss on her head and disappeared inside.
Chapter 21
Still sitting where Chloe had left her, EV skewered one last marshmallow; held it over the coals to roast, until it reached the peak of toasty goodness on the outside and melting creaminess on the inside. A few seconds too long, and she’d lose it to the fire—not long enough, and there would be a big blob of solid matter in the middle.
The simple act helped settle something inside her, and in the calmness, she realized that the voice in her head—the one full of recrimination for the lost life she’d held inside—had gone silent for the first time she could remember. Sharing her secret had lightened its burden on her soul.
The second she popped the morsel of perfection into her mouth, she heard Dalton’s truck turn down her road. Anticipation sent a flutter through her belly as she recognized the throaty purr of his engine.
Stop acting like a teenager, she chided herself. You keep this up, you’ll get pimples.
She listened for the slamming of his door; his steps down the stone walkway. Before he could knock, she called to him. “Come around back.”
“Coming.”
He settled into Chloe’s hot pink camp chair; the dancing light coming off the glowing embers cast his face into partial shadow, though EV could still see his wry grin. Pink was so not his color—a nice pastel purple would suit him better.
Since she was within reaching distance, he reached; curled his fingers over hers.
The companionable silence lasted a few minutes before he spoke into the flickering night.
“We need to talk.”
His words turned the flutter in her belly from gentle butterfly touches to the wrenching feeling that comes right before a fall. This was about to become too much honesty for one night.
“The four words no one in a relationship ever wants to hear.”
“Are we?”
He took her silence for confusion. “In a relationship, I mean.”
“Yes…no—it’s complicated.”
“Not for me. I’m not a complicated guy with some dire secret in my past that keeps me from trusting anyone ever again. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he amended quickly, when he felt tension clench her hand where it lay beneath his.
“How do you do it, Dalton? After Marlene betrayed you like that—how do you have the courage to try again?”
“How do you have the courage to face everything alone?”
“Touché.”
“EV, I’m not going to grovel. I won’t be another notch on your headboard.” Residual anger from having to talk about Remy Vincent all day gave his words more weight than he intended. They slapped and stung. EV’s mouth went dry. She slammed her inner walls into place.
“Wow, Dalton. Tell me how you really feel. Why are you so hung up on me if you think I’m a slut?”
He hadn’t meant it that way.
“Did I say that? I don’t think I said that.” Yet, he knew the implications were there. “I meant that I’m not the one night stand kind of guy.” As the words left his mouth, he knew he had made it worse.
“Excuse me?”
“I wish I’d worn different boots—be easier to pry my foot out of my mouth if I had on something in a rounder toe.”
A snort of laughter escaped before EV could stop it. Self-deprecating wit always scored high with her. His brand of humor fit perfectly into that category.
“Probably go down better with a side of crow.”
“Would that be fried crow? Or baked?”
“Well,” EV considered, “you could just stuff it.”
She gave back as good as she got.
Dalton rose from the pink chair to toss more wood onto the dying fire. He’d dug himself a deep enough hole that they might be there awhile, and the action gave him time to carefully plan his next words.
He sat back down, stretched his feet out toward the flames, listening to the crackle and sizzle of burning pine for several moments before he spoke, “I have feelings for you, Emmalina.” Her name sounded like a caress. The simplicity of his confession touched something inside her. “But I’m willing to walk away if you tell me you’ll never feel the same—if there’s no chance for us.”
As he said it, she could picture it; a life without him in it—it wasn’t difficult to do; she’d had plenty of practice. Years and years of it.
EV tipped her head back, let her eyes drop shut. Moving forward meant laying her deepest secret at his feet. Her instincts told her he could handle it; that he would pick up the burden of her past, and carry it with him. Telling him would lighten the weight as much as telling Chloe had. Maybe more.
Telling him would lay open the wound, and let it finally heal.
Mistaking her silence for something other than it was Dalton assumed the worst.
“I see.” Bleak, bitter pain rose in him. It was over before it had even begun.
“No, you really don’t.”
“Really? Tell me you see some kind of future for us, Emmalina. Say the words.”
“I want to be with you, Dalton.” She would not stoop to the convenient lie; but still, she wasn’t sure she was ready to rip off the Band-Aid time had laid over her soul; to expose the throbbing sore.
“But…” He prompted.
“But what?”
“There’s a but.”
“No, there’s not. There’s something I need to tell you about.”
A soft pop sounded when a log burned apart; sending a shower of sparks skyward.
EV gathered herself to speak. “I know you think Remy broke my heart. It wasn’t him. It was losing my—our—son.” For the second time that night, she told the whole story.
Whatever he had expected to hear, this bombshell was nowhere on the list. Sympathy moved his hand to reach, again, for hers; to squeeze.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” The words were inadequate; sounded trite to his ears. Marlene had given him Carrie. He would never forget the utter joy of watching his only daughter come into the world; of hearing her first cry; feeling her tiny fingers instinctively clutch his own. Trying to imagine having that joy ripped away from him hurt enough that compassion for EV overwhelmed him.
“No one knows. And before you ask, I don’t know why I’ve kept it a secret.”
>
“Don’t you?” The flash of anger surprised him. “Saint Emmalina, carries the world on her shoulders and thinks she’s doing everyone a favor.“ His inner response echoed Chloe’s earlier. His heart was breaking for her while at the same time, he wanted to strangle her. The stubborn woman.
His words fell like stones upon her; sent bitter tears to sting and burn.
“Low blow.”
Now he’d made her cry. Dalton launched from the chair to stalk the perimeter of the fire like a caged beast.
“Denying the people who love you the chance to support you when you are hurting isn’t a sign of strength. You do them a disservice.”
“That was never my intention.” How could he be slapping at her after she’d bared her soul to him? And worse, what if he was right? She could see it now—how protecting her loved ones from another loss had taken something from them.
“I’ve been a fool.” The quiet sadness broke something in him, let the anger drain away. Dalton pulled EV from the chair and into his arms; ran his hands down her back to soothe away the tension.
“Let me love you, EV. Let me hold you when it hurts. Don’t shut me out.” Dalton leaned back, lifted a hand to cup her chin, angled her face until their eyes met. Everything he felt for her was there, lit by the flickering flames of the dying fire; he held nothing back.
All her carefully built walls came crashing down. She let them fall to rubble at his feet; let him see her vulnerable and needing. EV whispered his name.
He kissed her. Gently at first. Nothing more than a brush of firm lips against her own.
Everything inside her surged toward him, a tsunami of pent up emotion that hit him, dragged him under as she took the kiss from gentle to urgent.
“Come,” EV broke the kiss, and leaving the fire to burn to ash, pulled him toward her house; her bed.
* * *
The feeling that someone was watching her woke EV from a sound sleep the next morning. Dalton had been watching her sleep. Normally, that would have creeped her out, but today, it made her feel cherished. She smiled back at him, stretched, and tangled her legs with his.
Crafting Disorder (Ponderosa Pines Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Page 12
