Angels' Share (Bourbon Springs Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  Chapter 27

  He was wearing his typical attire: jeans, a plaid shirt, work boots, but instead of a parka he was wearing his orange down vest, and his dark hair was a mess. He desperately needed a haircut or, at a minimum, a comb.

  Lila nodded politely but said nothing and turned to leave. She’d gotten a few steps away and had almost made it to the door when she realized that Bo had gotten out of line and was following her.

  “Please talk to me,” he said as Lila put her hand on the door handle. She hesitated, but would not look at him. “Can I buy you lunch? I still technically owe you for my lunch,” Bo said.

  Confused, she turned to face him. “What lunch?”

  “The one you paid for the last time we were here together, remember?”

  The memory returned and she nodded. “I’ve already eaten,” she said, and saw his face harden into sadness and skepticism. “I had lunch with CiCi at The Rickhouse,” she added, as though she owed him an explanation.

  “Oh,” Bo said.

  “But—you can buy me some coffee,” Lila agreed, caving when she saw the disappointment on his face. “Two creams, three sugars.”

  Lila walked away and found a table, and Bo soon arrived with a large coffee for her and a roast beef sandwich and drink for himself.

  “That’s my favorite thing they have here,” Lila said, and dipped her head in the direction of Bo’s sandwich. “That aus jus bourbon sauce is just something else.”

  “I should hope so,” Bo said, and he picked up his sandwich. “They use only Garnet here.” He took a huge bite and winked at her.

  “Are you sure? I saw the signs that say that,” she said, and pointed to a sign over the register.

  “I hope so since they’re so eager to advertise and link themselves to us,” Bo said in between bites as Lila opened her package of bourbon balls, plucked one out of the bag, and put it on a paper napkin. She took a sip of coffee before reaching for the candy.

  Lila took a bite and felt Bo staring at her as her teeth sank into the chocolate coating and bit down through the pecan and the creamy center. She licked her lips to prevent a chunk of chocolate from falling away, and somehow managed to rescue the candied tidbit with the tip of her tongue. She closed her eyes as she chewed and savored the bite.

  Lila opened her eyes. “Why are you in town today?” she suddenly asked before he could look away.

  “Probate stuff,” he said simply, and picked up his drink.

  “On a Saturday?”

  “Harriet—Harriet Hensley, she’s handling Mom’s estate—said she wanted to meet today because she’s going to be out of town this upcoming week,” Bo explained.

  Lila nodded and looked at her bag of bourbon balls on the table. She picked it up and peered into it. “I think they gave me a baker’s dozen,” she reported, and then held the bag out to Bo. “Take one if you want. I really did get way too many.”

  He wasn’t finished with his sandwich, but he took her up on her generosity and retrieved one from the bag. Bo set it aside on a napkin.

  “I meant what I said about my mother’s recipe. I could give it to you if you’re interested.”

  “Shouldn’t you consult Hannah first?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Lila shrugged. “I just assume it’s probably some kind of secret family recipe, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, no. Mom gave it away to anyone who asked for it. Although there is a secret to it that she rarely did tell.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Add a little bit of cinnamon,” he said, pressing his forefinger and thumb together as though to indicate a pinch of the ingredient. “Gives it even more bite.”

  “Like it needs that,” Lila muttered, her eyes widening in the memory of eating one. “Things are already so damn strong they make you feel like you could spit fire.”

  Lila took another sip of her coffee and found herself getting unnerved. She wasn’t emotionally ready for this encounter, and she felt it was only going to get more intense the longer she stayed.

  “Well, I should go,” she said, and started to push away from the table.

  “Wait,” he said. “Let me say something.”

  Lila looked around, nervous, and not wanting to hear what he was likely about to admit. “Bo—”

  “I miss you, Lila. And before you leave, please let me tell you that I’m sorry and I love you.”

  Lila stiffened, embarrassed by his confession, and still worried that the few diners around them could overhear their very personal exchange. She knew he waited for something from her, some little acknowledgment of understanding or even forgiveness. But she met his hope with a crushing silence and stood.

  “Thank you for the coffee, Bo,” she said in a low, scratchy voice, and headed to the door.

  But before Lila could push herself out the door, she could not resist the urge to turn back and look at him. He wasn’t eating, he wasn’t looking at her. He was just sitting there alone where she had left him and staring at his half-eaten sandwich.

  Leave.

  No.

  Stay.

  The sight of him at the table, dejected and alone, stopped Lila dead in her tracks. She knew she couldn’t leave him like that without incurring a massive guilt trip. Lila walked back to the table, sat, and sipped her coffee without looking at him.

  “You need a haircut,” she said without preface.

  She knew that if she looked at him, she’d see his growing sense of hope. And Lila didn’t know how she was going to handle either disappointing him again or how she could justify giving in to what she knew he wanted.

  After a few seconds in which the fact of her return seemingly sank into Bo’s reality, he brought a hand up to his head and ran his fingers through his hair. Lila could see him doing this from the corner of her eye and she had to look away. Flooding back unbidden into her mind came the times she had woven her slim fingers into that ebony hair when Bo had held her in his arms.

  “What’s wrong?” Bo asked, noticing her sudden sense of discomfort.

  “Nothing,” she said, and focused on her hands in her lap.

  Why couldn’t she forgive him? Why couldn’t she answer CiCi’s question?

  Bo finished his sandwich and Lila finished her coffee in silence.

  “May I walk you to your truck?” he asked as they disposed of their trash in the can by the door and exited the deli.

  “Bo—”

  “Please, Lila,” he begged.

  “Just stop it, stop torturing yourself,” she said, and they moved away from the entrance to allow some patrons to exit the deli. “Stop torturing both of us.”

  “So this is killing you, too?” he asked, and bent to get in her face. “Lila, please, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do or to say to make this better, to fix this.” She turned away from him and began walking north toward her parked truck outside The Rickhouse. “What do you want me to do?” Bo asked, and fell into step beside her. “That’s what I don’t understand. Is there something? Or is it really over?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything, Bo,” Lila said sadly.

  They walked the short block together, neither looking at nor saying anything to the other until they finally arrived at Lila’s truck. She opened the driver’s side door and tossed in her purse and bag of bourbon balls. She faced the truck and kept her back to Bo, but did not get into her vehicle.

  “Please tell me there’s still a chance for us,” he said in a strong voice.

  She faced him, and felt whatever resolve she had built up start to crumble. In that short walk from the deli, Lila had resolved to tell him there wasn’t a future for them, and for him to go away and leave her in peace. But CiCi’s unanswered question wouldn’t let her say those things, as much as she wanted to. She was a teacher, and not knowing the answer to what should be a simple question made her hold back on making such a final and irrevocable decision.

  “I don’t know,” she told him.

  “That�
��s better than a no,” Bo said.

  “I don’t want to give you false hope, Bo,” Lila said. “That’s not fair to you.”

  “I’ll take any kind of hope, Lila,” he said. Bo’s mood had changed from distressed to almost bold.

  They were only about a foot away from each other. Lila could smell his scent—that yeast-alcohol mix that she had come to know so well and had desperately missed. Slowly, Bo brought his right hand to her face and she did not back away. Lila stared at the middle of his chest and closed her eyes. Instead of trying to tilt her head up and kiss her on the lips, Bo kissed the top of her head.

  “You need a haircut, too,” he whispered.

  His words were so simple and undemanding. All he wanted was some hope and a little bit of affection. Lila decided she could give him at least that.

  She slowly put her arms around him, slipping them under his down vest, and put her head on his chest. Bo was so startled by her embrace that he held his arms out to his sides for a few seconds, apparently unsure as to how to respond. But he soon pulled her close to him, and rested his head on top of hers.

  Being held by Bo felt like falling into a warm bed after a long, tiring day. It was a good thing they were in public because Lila knew exactly what would happen if they were alone. She could almost feel Bo peeling off every layer of her clothing until he got to her panties, teasing her and moving his fingers slowly around the waistband until his hand moved lower and—

  “I need to go,” she said after about a minute, and pulled away.

  Lila hoisted herself into the cab of the truck and put the window down.

  “You know where to find me,” he said as she put the truck into reverse.

  “If I need to find you, I know exactly where you’ll be,” she said, and drove away.

  Something at the edge of her consciousness began to bother her, a noise or buzzing. Lila’s eyes slowly opened and she found herself in her darkened, stuffy bedroom. After returning home from lunch and her encounter with Bo, she’d felt exceptionally drowsy and sluggish and surrendered to the delicious temptation of a nap. With the feeling of being held by Bo wrapped around her like a blanket of physical memory, she had easily fallen asleep. She sat up in bed, stiff, warm, and a little sick to her stomach, and looked at her bedside clock. It was nearly six, and the noises that had annoyed her into consciousness were thunder and the harsh sound of rain against the windows.

  Lila rolled her shoulders and swung her legs to the side of the bed, wondering what, if anything, she should eat for dinner. Even after all the food she’d consumed earlier in the day, Lila could feel the first pangs of hunger rippling through her innards.

  She walked to the windows and looked out. The skies above her land were pitch-black, but a lightning strike to the north illuminated the landscape, providing her with a split-second view of the springs. There was a raging storm, and she realized how tired she must have been to have slept through such a tempest. Lila momentarily thought of Bo, and wondered whether he was at the distillery that evening, sitting in the old rickhouse and fretting or doing the same in his office. No doubt all his senses were on alert in the middle of such a squall.

  Lila next heard her cell phone vibrating on the bedside table; that must have been one of the noises that had nudged her from sleep. Suspecting the caller to be Bo, she nonetheless walked over, picked up her phone, and checked it. But instead of Bo, she saw that Kyle had called her three times.

  And now four; he’d just left another message.

  The first few messages had only requested a return call. But the third and fourth messages hinted at something serious, and Kyle mentioned that there was a “minor emergency” and he’d really like to talk to her.

  Lila stared at the phone in her hand, wondering whether Kyle’s messages had anything to do with Bo. She quickly decided against the notion, knowing that Kyle wouldn’t involve himself in Bo’s business—or hers—unless Hannah was involved.

  “Thank God,” Kyle exhaled upon answering Lila’s call.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, and went to the window to view the storm.

  “It’s Hannah,” he said, his voice raw. “She—she had a miscarriage today.”

  “Oh, Kyle,” Lila said, and put her forehead against one of the windowpanes. It felt cold, but it was a good sensation after being bundled up and too warm. “I—I didn’t know she was expecting.”

  “We hadn’t told anyone,” Kyle said, sounding very tired. “Not even Emma before she died. Hannah had been spotting, not feeling well. I wanted to tell—I admit it—the night of her party. But she didn’t want to say anything since it was so early. We’d only found out that very week. Maybe she knew it wasn’t going to happen.”

  “Where is she? Where are you?”

  “We’re home now. We went to see Dr. Chaplin this afternoon because Hannah was cramping so bad. Never did make it to the hospital. Happened so fast. Physically, Hannah’s fine, but tired. But emotionally, she’s a complete wreck. Can you come over, please?”

  “Why me? Why not someone else? Like Judge Richards or CiCi or—”

  “They don’t know, Lila,” Kyle said. “We hadn’t told anyone, remember? And right now, Hannah doesn’t know whether she’ll ever tell. Please, Lila—we need you. This has nothing to do with Bo.”

  “I didn’t say that it did.”

  “I just wanted to make sure that you understood that. Again, he doesn’t know. He won’t be here. Please come over. You’re family—my family. And that makes you Hannah’s family, too. We need you.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she said, and hung up.

  Chapter 28

  The rain did slow Lila, and what should have been a five-minute drive took close to fifteen. On the way, Lila passed the site of the burned rickhouse, and she wondered when construction would start on a new one. She smiled when she realized that she had just started thinking like an owner of Old Garnet.

  Lila had never been to Hannah’s house but, like most people in Craig County, knew exactly where it was. The sprawling McMansion sat immediately north of the distillery on a prominent hill and could be seen for miles around. Lila had always wondered what the views were like from that place, but on that dark night she knew that there would be no pretty landscapes to fawn over.

  She parked on the wide, semicircular drive and dashed in the rain toward the portico where Kyle was waiting for her at the front door. He helped her out of her coat and took it from her, then gave his cousin a crushing hug.

  “Thanks for coming. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Follow me,” he said, and started up the front stairs leading from the foyer to the second floor.

  At the top of the stairs, they headed down a short hall and to the first room on the right. Kyle knocked lightly, but there was no answer. He entered anyway, and signaled Lila to follow him.

  “Hannah?” he whispered upon stepping into the room.

  In the large four-poster, king-size bed was a form wrapped in what seemed to be several layers of comforters or blankets. On a table next to the bed, a brass lamp glowed on the dimmest setting, casting a thin glow of light but leaving the far corners of the room in darkness. The form in the bed stirred, and Lila saw strands of long blonde hair falling off a pillow. Kyle went to his wife’s side and knelt.

  “How are you feeling? Need anything?” he asked. He put a hand to her cheek.

  The sight was heartbreaking, and Lila swallowed to stop her tears.

  Hannah’s hand emerged from beneath the covers and clasped Kyle’s hand.

  “I feel like shit,” she said.

  Lila sighed and smiled. After the horror of this day passed, Lila knew Hannah would be fine.

  “Hannah, Lila’s here,” Kyle said, and looked in Lila’s direction.

  “Lila?” Hannah asked, confusion evident in her voice. With effort, Hannah sat up in bed and stared at her cousin-in-law.

  Kyle stood. “I’m going to go downstair
s and fix something for you to eat,” he announced, and left the women alone.

  Hannah sat with her back to the headboard, and Lila had her first good look at her. She was without makeup, and her hair was a rat’s nest of tangles. Hannah was unusually pale and her eyes seemed a little unfocused, perhaps because of the dimness of the room.

  “Nobody knew that I was…” she whispered, and a few tears fell down her cheeks.

  “I know,” Lila said, and took several steps toward the bed.

  “Why—why are you here—I mean—I’m sorry, that was rude.”

  Lila took a seat on the edge of the bed and put her hands on her lap. “Kyle called me because—because I know exactly what you’re going through. It—it happened to me, too,” Lila stammered. Hannah’s mouth opened in surprise, then understanding. “It gets better,” Lila said. “That’s what I can tell you.”

  Hannah gasped then broke into a sob, and the two embraced and cried together. Hannah eventually pulled away and reached for a box of tissues on the bedside table. She took the box and offered it first to Lila, who took several. Hannah took some and tossed the box on the floor.

  “Only Kyle knows,” Lila said, and dabbed at her eyes. “And now, so do you.”

  “Not even…”

  “No, I never told Bo,” Lila admitted. “It’s not something I really like to talk about, as you can understand.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said, and her head dropped.

  Lila grabbed Hannah’s hands and forced her to look up. “It does get better,” Lila repeated. “I promise. But it never goes away, either. It’s always there. I’m not going to tell you that you’ll never forget and wonder what could’ve been.”

  “I didn’t expect I would forget” Hannah said, and then paused. “It’s strange—the physical pain wasn’t that much, although I am very tired.”

  “Exactly,” Lila said, and nodded.

  “So—why didn’t you—I mean—did you keep trying?” Hannah asked. “I’m sorry, that was way too personal.”

  “I don’t think any question right now is too personal,” Lila said, and sighed. “I—we—didn’t have another chance. I—I discovered I was pregnant a few days after Colin died.”