Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume II, Books 4-6 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 2)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  But Goose and Harriet weren’t so excited.

  They thanked her for her time and left, trying to act pleasant, but it was difficult in the presence of someone so over-the-top happy while they were disappointed. Goose even forgot to show the curator the pictures of the van, something he didn’t realize until Harriet pointed it out and they had walked outside and into the bright late October sunshine.

  “Well, that wasn’t the answer we wanted,” Harriet said upon their return to the van. They planned to drop their materials in the vehicle and then walk up Broadway and get something to eat.

  “At least she didn’t reject us outright,” Goose said. “But the boundary problem shouldn’t be too bad, according to what you’ve discovered.”

  During the preceding week, Harriet had been in contact with officials from the state, specifically the department of parks, the entity which managed the land preserve across Old Crow Creek from the distillery. She’d explained the problem (once she’d found the right person; that series of calls, voice mails, and e-mails had taken the better part of two days), and the official seemed to think it probably wasn’t a big deal. The parks department apparently had excellent land records, a practice which made sense when considering that the state parks had vast amounts of property to maintain. If the land didn’t belong to the state, it wasn’t going to worry about the upkeep, thus saving taxpayer dollars.

  “I hope we can get the boundary fixed soon,” Harriet replied. “But remember we’re dealing with the two slowest forces on Earth: lawyers and the government.”

  Goose let out a belly laugh, and Harriet laughed with him. After the chuckles had died down, Goose asked where they were going, and Harriet led him down Broadway toward some restaurants.

  “We’re a little spoilt for choice around here.” She pointed to a sandwich shop, a white-tablecloth restaurant, a Mexican place, and a cutesy, Southern-style café-tearoom.

  They stopped at the corner of Broadway and St. Clair, directly in front of the fancy restaurant, and she read the board advertising a daily special of a hot brown. If it had been a cool day, she would’ve pulled Goose into the establishment and eaten every bite of the dish; she loved a good hot brown—that uniquely Kentucky sandwich-casserole with turkey, ham, bacon and layers of gooey cheese. But it was a little too warm for such a heavy meal that day and their other dining choices—Mexican or the cutesy place—didn’t appeal to her.

  Goose was staring across the street at the Old State Capitol, partially shrouded in a dense guard of towering trees. On the ground in front of the building was a thick layer of leaves, mostly golden yellow. With the intense sunlight, the grounds were awash in the glow of a midautumn afternoon in the South.

  “Where’s that sandwich shop you mentioned?” Goose asked. “If you don’t mind, considering how nice it is out here, I think I’d like to get a sandwich and go over there and eat.”

  He pointed across the street at the Old State Capitol. On the steps of the building sat a few people, eating lunches and basking in the sun.

  Harriet pronounced the idea as perfect, and they walked in the opposite direction up St. Clair, got sandwiches, drinks, and chips and wandered onto the grounds of the Old State Capitol.

  It was now after one o’clock, and most of the office workers had left the area. Harriet and Goose were the only ones on the steps of the building.

  “You ever come here and eat?” he asked as he unwrapped his sandwich. Goose’s head swiveled from side to side. They were high up on the steps, and their slight prominence provided a nice view of the vicinity, including Broadway in front of them and St. Clair, which extended to the Singing Bridge several blocks away.

  “No, my office was across the river in another state office building.”

  She couldn’t help thinking about how she’d eaten all those lunches with Cameron on the steps of the New Capitol (“new” meaning it was only a hundred years old and still being used as the seat of government in the Commonwealth). As they ate, they discussed the history of the Old Capitol, and Harriet pointed to a plaque in a brick path which marked the spot where William Goebel, the only governor in the country’s history to be assassinated, had fallen after being shot in 1900.

  After polishing off their lunches, they strolled back to the parking lot, all the way there Harriet wishing they could hold hands, hug, or offer some small demonstration of affection. But despite the romantic setting of a small town on a bright fall afternoon, she resisted the temptation of his touch and tried to maintain a professional demeanor.

  “Can I please drive?” he asked as they reached the minivan. “I promise I’ll behave.”

  His plea was so earnest she couldn’t resist the request and handed him the keys.

  To her pleasant surprise, he drove reasonably and slowly, listening to her instructions.

  Until he got to that overlook on Louisville Hill and made a frightening, sudden left turn in front of oncoming cars to pull into the small parking lot.

  Harriet screamed as the traffic honked and they narrowly avoided a collision.

  “They weren’t that close,” he huffed as he killed the ignition and turned to Harriet. She was gripping the sides of her seat.

  “Do you always drive like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Crazed.”

  “Leftover from my law enforcement days, I guess. Always in a hurry back then. But I’m much better than I used to be.”

  They walked to a rock fence topped with a wrought iron railing. Before them was a panoramic vista of nearly the entire downtown Frankfort and Kentucky River gorge area, with the New Capitol directly in front of them. They were too far up to actually see the river, but its path could be discerned by the twisting shape of the landscape below.

  “How did I never know this was here?” Goose asked in a whisper, looking up and down the wide valley. “This is gorgeous.”

  “Lots of places like this, aren’t there? Treasures hidden in plain sight.”

  “In plain sight, but somehow just out of reach.”

  She gazed at him, openmouthed, holding her breath. He was staring intensely at her, his eyes and jaw fixed. There was need in his look, but also expectation and hope.

  “Harriet, may I please hold your hand? No one’s here to see us, only cars zipping by.” She smiled and offered her hand, which he took and kissed. “Thank you.”

  There they stood, holding hands and not looking at each other, and Harriet wondered when the obstacles of obligation would be lifted so they might be able to kiss, to hold, to caress.

  To love.

  After several minutes, they returned to the vehicle, this time with Harriet behind the wheel. She left Frankfort the way they had entered, and on the return trip they spotted signs for the turns to Wild Turkey and Four Roses Distilleries.

  “Why didn’t we notice those signs on the way up?” Goose asked.

  “I did,” she claimed. “You’d dozed off when we passed through Lawrenceburg,” Harriet explained, referring to the small Kentucky town south of Frankfort which boasted of being home to both legendary distilleries.

  “And speaking of that wonderful little town,” Goose said, “I need to make a pit stop there before we hit the Bluegrass Parkway on our way home.”

  Harriet pulled into a fast-food place she could easily access by a right turn off the road, and Goose hopped out of the vehicle and hastened inside. Realizing she should probably take advantage of the facilities, she first decided to check her e-mails. She’d deliberately ignored her phone most of the day, having decided not to read any messages and only to take calls (of which there had been none, much to her delight).

  Her messages revealed nothing terribly notable, but her eye eventually fell on a marginally familiar name, and she stared at the screen.

  It was the ethics nerd, e-mailing her with an opinion.

  Already?

  Harriet thought the ethics panel member had told her not to expect an answer for another week.

  But here
it was.

  She opened the e-mail and scanned it, noting that the sender had attached a formal opinion as a PDF. But the sender had summarized his decision in the text of the message.

  After careful review of the detailed facts you presented, I see no problem at present should you choose to pursue a relationship with the individual you described as the heritage director-security chief-head of groundskeeping. You must be aware that should conditions change, however, a conflict could develop which would prevent you from continued representation of the distillery. For example, if the individual developed a conflict with management, you would also have a conflict of interest if you were in a romantic or sexual relationship with him. But from what you describe, those are not the circumstances at present at the distillery.

  Therefore, at this time, if you were to choose to pursue a romantic/sexual relationship with this individual, you would not have a conflict of interest and would not be subject to attorney discipline because of possible professional misconduct on your part.

  This was a yes, dressed up in all kinds of legalese bullshit, but it was a yes.

  Go for it!

  The lawyer in her was telling her the ethics nerd had gotten it wrong, but what the hell did she know? She wasn’t the nerd. That’s why she had to ask.

  And forget the lawyer in her!

  Every inch of her womanly parts were ready, willing, and able.

  Harriet dropped the phone in her lap, stared straight ahead, and simply sat there in the Old Garnet van, completely in shock. She didn’t even notice Goose walking out of the restaurant and jumped when she heard the passenger-side door being opened.

  She licked her lips, swallowed, and opened her mouth to say something after he retook his seat. He cocked his head a little, seeing how she was out of sorts.

  “I gotta go to the bathroom,” she blurted and popped out of the van and fled into the restaurant.

  She went inside, did what she needed to do, but stood in front of the sinks for a minute. Harriet was still in shock, wondering how to break this news to Goose.

  True, she’d fantasized about this possibility since asking for the opinion. But it usually involved being alone with Goose. And ending up naked. There wasn’t a lot of discussion in her daydream, just action. Lots of it.

  She returned to the minivan and drove off, still in a happy, excited state and still clueless about how to approach the subject. Since she hadn’t told Goose she was even getting an opinion, she knew she couldn’t suddenly drop this news on him.

  Hey, guess what, we can—um—start doing each other now. Still interested in that, right?

  “Hey, Harriet?” Goose asked.

  “Yep?” she responded in a squeaky voice.

  “You’re speeding.”

  She sucked in quick breath as she eased up on the gas pedal and looked at the speedometer.

  “Oh… um… sorry.” She swallowed and gave Goose a quick glance before returning her eyes to the road.

  “Do you want me to drive? Are you feeling bad?”

  She was now driving too slowly, and cars were passing her, some honking.

  “No, no,” she insisted. “I’m good. Hey, look, there’s the turn to Four Roses,” she said, pointing to the right down a narrow country lane that looked like it led nowhere instead of one of the most picturesque distilleries in the state.

  “No, you’re not good,” he said. “And don’t try to distract me. Pull over before we hit the Bluegrass.”

  She knew there were precious few exits to pull over once they got on the Bluegrass Parkway and headed west toward home; it was a lovely but remote drive.

  So instead of taking the on-ramp to the highway, she deliberately drove past the exit and kept going south.

  “Hey! You missed the turn!” Goose cried and pointed to his right at the fading sight of the highway. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I need to tell you something—now—need to talk to you…,” she stammered.

  “Then pull over somewhere!”

  She drove about another mile south with Goose urging her to stop, but she didn’t want to have this conversation in some stupid convenience store parking lot. Then she spotted the turn to an old state campground.

  She recognized the site from an audit during her time with the auditor’s office. It had been one of the few times she’d actually gotten to do a little fieldwork—and got to actually go out into a field too. After working in the small house-headquarters of the campground, she’d walked around with a few of the other auditors, just exploring, as they had taken a break from their tedious work. The campground eventually had been shut down in light of a scathing report her office had produced, and a sign posted across the old official sign proclaimed it CLOSED.

  She turned off the main road and into the entrance. “Just what we need.”

  “What the hell? Where are you going?”

  She didn’t answer and Goose was silent, but she knew he wasn’t happy from the tenseness in his body and the frown on his face. After a few yards on the road into the site, a closed gate finally blocked their progress. Goose urged Harriet to leave or simply stop and talk. Instead, Harriet got out and opened the gate; it wasn’t locked. She remembered from the audit that the site had security concerns—files in cabinets weren’t secured, no locks on doors, and even the gates around the property weren’t latched. The cost to upgrade as recommended by the audit report had been too much, she recalled, and the state abandoned the site. So when Harriet had gotten out of the van to open that gate and push it open, she’d expected it to swing open.

  “How—how’d you know that?” he spluttered.

  “Intuition and good luck.” She pulled forward, got out of the van again and closed the gate behind them. Not a good idea to advertise their presence since she figured they were technically trespassing.

  The asphalt was cracked, and weeds poked up through the splintered pavement, but no obstacles blocked their progress as Harriet moved deeper into the property. They passed the small home which had served as the campground office; it was boarded up. Harriet drove on until she pulled off the main drive and into a tall stand of trees. The campsites along this satellite road were overgrown, and the trees made the afternoon turn suddenly shadowy. At the end of the pavement, Harriet drove the van onto the ground, causing Goose a good deal of anxiety.

  “Hey! Remember this thing is new!”

  Harriet giggled. “You act like this is your brand-new sports car and I’m driving it into the mud.” She parked the vehicle and took the keys from the ignition.

  “Well, I am responsible for the thing,” he grumbled.

  She got out of the vehicle, unable to sit still, and Goose followed suit.

  Harriet walked to the edge of the campground, where the trees became nearly impenetrable and the forest began.

  “I was here once, years ago,” she said and explained about the audit. “Walked out here with a few of my coworkers, saying how sad it was this place wasn’t better cared for. Wanted to come back here and camp with—”

  She stopped short before she said Cameron’s name. Harriet hadn’t thought about him in a long time, and she was surprised by the stab of hurt his memory caused.

  “You referring to the jerk who dumped you before you returned to Bourbon Springs?” Goose asked and came around the front of the van to stand in front of her.

  “You remember he dumped me? How I told you about that?”

  “Hell, yes, I do,” he said. “I was kind of an unintended beneficiary of his stupidity, if you remember.”

  She blushed and looked at the ground, littered with a thick layer of oak leaves. “I remember.”

  Goose stepped closer to her. “Why the hell are we here? I mean, it’s not that I object to getting lost in the woods with a gorgeous woman, but what’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, absolutely nothing.” She pulled out her phone and looked down at it and then to Goose’s tense face. “We don’t have to wait,” she said brea
thlessly.

  “What? You—you’ve changed your mind?” he asked but didn’t seem exactly happy. “I thought you—we—had an ethical problem, Harriet. Now you’re telling me that suddenly doesn’t matter?”

  “I’m telling you that someone else has told me it isn’t a problem,” she said a bit hotly and explained her ethics opinion. “I’d forgotten about being able to ask for advice,” she said but didn’t tell him that Hannah had been the one to suggest it.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?—wait, I know,” he said, holding up his hands and walking away. “Those damned ethics rules, right?” He turned around several yards from her, and Harriet was crushed to see he was angry. “So you went off and asked permission of some lawyer, a stranger, whether you can be with me?”

  She was furious and hurt. Why didn’t he see this was good news?

  “Yes, I did ask the question. I needed an answer, Goose—we needed an answer. Once I realized I could ask and that there was even the possibility that we could be together now—well, I asked. I just didn’t do it for myself. I owed it to you.”

  “Why? Why do you need permission?” he hissed. “Explain that one to me!”

  “Because I love my job!” she cried, walking to him near the edge of the trees. “I love being an attorney! And I—”

  It had almost tumbled out of her mouth. The little thought that had been nagging her since their encounter at Lila’s.

  Or had it been nagging her for the past five years?

  Could it really be true—that she loved him?

  No. Not yet.

  What she’d really wanted was that chance, that opportunity, that hope to see if it could happen. Now she had that chance. They had that chance.

  “And what, Harriet?” he asked in a whisper, closing the distance between them until he towered over her.

  She wasn’t ready to confess everything in her heart, but she could say something he could understand. The same words he had used to tell her how he felt.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Goose.”

  17

  Whatever contempt or ire he had felt dissolved at that moment, and Goose looked at Harriet anew.