by Meg Muldoon
Desperation oozed from my voice. It was embarrassing, but I couldn’t help it.
The thought that I’d never see her again – that she’d just pick up and move without so much as a goodbye like this – made me feel—
I suddenly heard footsteps within the house. A second later, the door creaked open.
Tiana’s eyes, large, doe-like, and scared, gazed out through the crack.
She craned her neck, looking behind me at the street.
Then she met my eyes.
“Come inside, Cin,” she said. “Quick.”
Chapter 62
She sat upright in a recliner, dressed in the same lavender bathrobe I’d seen her in the day we’d left to look for Wes. She wrung her hands together nervously, and she looked uncomfortably alert – as if she’d been awake for days.
Half-opened beige boxes and rolls of packing tape filled her small living room.
She’d been busy.
We sat in an awkward silence for a long while. Until finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why?” I asked simply.
I figured I couldn’t get more to the point than that.
The question hung in the air. She seemed to be internally debating something for several moments.
But then, she spoke.
“I don’t… I don’t love him anymore,” she said. “I realized that, and I have to be true to myself.”
I stared at her, struggling for words.
It just didn’t make any sense.
“But what happened?” I finally said. “Is it cold feet? Did Tobias do something? I don’t understand—”
“He didn’t do anything,” she said, cutting me off. “I just… I just don’t love him anymore. And I can’t spend the rest of my life living with someone who I don’t love…”
Her voice went unnaturally high suddenly, breaking before she completed the sentence.
She looked away.
I couldn’t help but notice that her eyes had grown glassy.
“Tiana,” I said, leaning forward on the sofa. “It’s me – Cin. I’m your friend. I won’t judge you. Not ever. But just tell me what’s going on. The truth this time.”
She shot me a sideways glance, hesitating for a moment, as if unsure whether she should be doing what she was going to do.
But a second later, the floodgates opened. And the truth came pouring out of her like water from a busted dam.
Chapter 63
“When he signed the divorce papers, I thought that was it and that I wouldn’t have to deal with any of it anymore. I hoped I’d never see him again.”
She leaned forward in the chair, her head in her hands.
“I told you what a bad husband he was. But I didn’t… I didn’t tell you that he was a bad man, too. And that when he signed our divorce papers, it had been from prison where he was serving time for armed robbery and attempted murder.”
I sucked in a deep breath.
Everything suddenly became very, very clear.
“He was a thug,” she said, shaking her head. “It was almost a blessing when he went away to prison. I thought I could start my life over again. I moved. And when I met Tobias, I actually believed… I believed that I could be happy.”
She looked up, giving a half-smile through the tears.
“But I didn’t count on him getting out anytime soon, Cin,” she said. “And I didn’t count on him finding me.”
She let out a troubled sigh.
“I first saw him in line at the pie shop,” she said. “Just after you got back from this last trip of yours to Portland. You see, he’d been released from prison early and the first thing he did was come looking for me. He told me that I was the only woman he ever loved, and I was his only hope at rebuilding his life again now that he was out. But I didn’t buy any of that for a second. He just wanted someone to beat-up on again and to cook for him.”
She pursed her lips together.
“I told him that I was engaged now to a good man and how I didn’t want a thing to do with him. I told him that I wasn’t ever going to be a building block in his life again, and that he needed to leave Christmas River immediately. But he said he wasn’t going to give up on me so easy. That he’d fight for me, if it came down to it.
“Then a few days later… a brick went through the pie shop window, Cin. A brick that I knew he had thrown. It was meant for Tobias. He wanted to send me a message about what would happen if I decided to stay here in my new, happy life and ignore him.”
Her face fell into an expression of deep shame and regret.
“I should have told you, but I just… I just couldn’t. I knew Tobias was in danger. And I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t let that brute do something to him. I love Toby too much to let something like that happen.”
Rage suddenly caused my face to flush. My fists tightened at the thought of what that bastard was doing to her.
I suddenly wanted to go find Tiana’s no-good, felon ex-husband and throw a brick through his window. And maybe a lot more than that.
“I’m so sorry, Cin,” Tiana finally said. “I’m so sorry. But I couldn’t bear to think that he’d do more to the shop or to you or to Toby than he already had. Don’t you see I had to do this?”
“But why didn’t you come to me right away about all of this?” I said. “You know I would have dropped everything to help you. All of us would have.”
She shook her head, looking away.
“I know. But I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to know that I had once been married to someone like that. I didn’t want Toby to know either. And you don’t know what my ex-husband’s capable of. He’s bad, Cin. Really, really bad.”
She peered at me through waterlogged eyes.
“Cin… I never meant to… if I hurt you, then I…”
A different fear gripped her now. One that had nothing to do with her ex-husband.
She was worried that I might not ever forgive her.
But I quickly squelched that fear.
I went over and gave her a big hug.
She started crying.
“I’m so, so sorry, Cin,” she said.
When I pulled away, I had to wipe away tears of my own.
“Is he still in town?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Where’s he staying?”
“The Christmas River Inn,” she said.
And like that, the pieces suddenly clicked in place.
I’d seen her ex-husband in the pie shop, too.
The thick-necked, body-builder guy with the broken hearts tattoo on his wrist.The out-of-towner who was so interested in the pie shop. Who gave off a creepy vibe that I didn’t care for. Who seemed particularly interested in how many employees I had.
Son of a b—
I stood up.
I didn’t like seeing anybody get bullied. But it enraged me when I thought about good, gentle souls like Tiana and Tobias being attacked like this.
I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?” Tiana asked, looking panicked.
I held the phone up to my ear, listening to the rings.
“Making things right,” I said, giving her a small smile.
Chapter 64
“Now, I’m not vain enough to think I look like a 24-year-old brewmaster,” he said, stepping out from the back office and into the dimly-lit pub. “But age has its certain advantages. Like having the means and know-how to dress well, for one.”
Warren held his arms out, turning slowly as the early-afternoon light streamed through the windows and across the pub’s dark pine floor.
The man of the hour sported a pair of fashionably faded jeans and a blazer that fit his slim build perfectly, yet also somehow managed to hide his beer belly at the same time. Beneath the jacket, a bolo tie hung around a crisp, collared shirt. His white hair – or what was left of it, anyway, was combed and trimmed nicely. His beard was perfectly-groomed.
“Well, what do you say, Cinny Bee?” he asked.
I g
ave him a once over, standing with my hand on my hip.
“I’d say those 24-year-old brewmasters don’t have a single thing on you, Grandpa,” I said. “In fact, after reading this article, they’re going to wish they were you with that amazing talent and those dashing looks of yours.”
He grinned like he’d won a big hand at blackjack.
“What can I say?” he said, adjusting his bolo tie. “I was born with a sophisticated sense of style.”
We both chuckled. He knew that I knew that he’d never been much of a dresser over the years. After all, he’d been a millworker most of his life, and nobody ever saw him wear anything but flannel shirts until he was well past 40 years old. The nice clothes he had on now could be attributed to his wife Aileen, and her alone.
The old man shot a glance at the clock on the far wall of the pub, and his face turned to a shade of buttermilk.
“I tell you, Cinny. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous about meeting this Abernathy fella. He’s big time in the beer world, you know. He makes or breaks businesses, that one.”
“Well, from where I’m sitting, old man, seems to me like you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve heard that this guy likes good beer. Which – correct me if I’m wrong – you make plenty of.”
Warren grinned nervously.
“I suppose you’ve got a point there,” he said.
I went over to the bar and grabbed my purse, slinging it over my shoulder.
Samuel Abernathy was set to arrive at any minute, and I figured it best if I made myself scarce and let Warren have a few minutes to himself before the journalist arrived.
“Not to mention the fact that you are one charming devil,” I said. “Trust me – this reporter’s going to love you – the way all of us do.”
I went back over to Warren and kissed him on the cheek.
“Knock ‘em dead, old man,” I said. “And get ready – everything’s going to be a lot different once you’re a star in the beer world.”
Warren looked a little bashful, his cheeks suddenly glowing salmon pink.
“Thanks for helping me prepare for this interview, Cin,” he said. “It means a lot.”
I tapped him playfully on his shoulder.
“Are you kidding? Anything for you, old man—”
“Uh, sorry. I guess I’m a few minutes early.”
A deep voice projected from the entrance area of the pub.
Warren’s eyes grew as swollen as monster tires for a moment. There was adrenaline and nervousness and excitement in his expression.
I grinned big.
“Mr. Abernathy,” he said, squeezing my shoulder quickly and walking past me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you’re just on time.”
Warren stretched out his hand.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” the reporter said. “I’ve heard great things about this place. I’m just glad that I finally got out here to see it for myself.”
The beer journalist was in his mid-40s, but his curly brown hair and youthful face made him look a good deal younger. Today, he was dressed in a green plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers – a look that also added to his youthful appearance. A messenger bag was slung nonchalantly over his shoulder. He practically had ‘reporter’ stamped on his forehead.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” Samuel said, looking in my direction.
“Not at all,” Warren said, nodding to me. “Mr. Abernathy, this is my granddaughter, Cinnamon.”
Taking it as a cue, I walked over to them.
“Great meeting you, Cinnamon,” Sam said.
He shook my hand and smiled. Acting like we hadn’t met before. Acting as though he didn’t have a rabid sweet tooth and as if he hadn’t visited my pie food truck in Portland nearly every day this summer. Meanwhile, I acted as though I hadn’t talked up Geronimo Brewing Co. every time he stopped by, and how my grandfather and his Scottish wife were the best beer brewers in the Northwest. I also didn’t let on how I’d told him that any respectable beer critic worth his or her salt absolutely had to make a trip out to Christmas River to see Geronimo Brewing Co. for themselves.
“Nice meeting you as well, Mr. Abernathy,” I said, smiling back at Sam, who I now considered a friend.
I was glad that he was playing along – not letting on that I’d had a hand in getting him out here to the brewpub.
I glanced back at Warren.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you two gentlemen to it,” I said, winking at my grandfather.
I headed for the door just as Sam started asking his first question.
“So, Warren. I don’t want to offend you right off the bat, but I’ve got to ask. What’s it like being a professional brewer at your age?”
“Well, Mr. Abernathy,” Warren started in, his voice coming out strong and steady and confident. “I always thought age was more of a state of mind than a number…”
I grinned like a fool the whole walk back to the pie shop.
Chapter 65
It was early afternoon on a perfect, crisp October day when we took a long drive into the woods.
The forest service roads were bumpy, and I had to hold on tightly to the pink pastry box in my lap so that it wouldn’t bounce up into the roof of the truck. But it was a beautiful blue Autumn day, and the muddled orange sun filtered through the boughs of the pine trees overhead, casting the forest in a fairytale haze of sun and shadow.
I unrolled the cab window with my free hand, and leaned my head out slightly, taking in a deep breath of the pure mountain air.
I thought about what the Good Samaritan had said to me up at the pass back in September when my car had broken down. That he’d been here long enough so that his blood ran green. At the time, I had to think about what he meant by that statement. Now, it was obvious to me. Because mine did, too.
“So when you see Tiana next, you can tell her that she’s got nothing to worry about from her ex-husband,” Daniel said, glancing over at me from the driver’s seat. “I don’t think she’ll have to worry about him ever again. Not after the, uh, the talk I had with him.”
“What’d you say?” I asked.
“I just told him that the woman who owned the pie shop that he vandalized was my wife,” he said. “And that if he valued anything in this sweet old world, then he better never show his face near Christmas River, or speak to either Tiana or Tobias ever again. I told him that if he did, then the consequences wouldn’t be pretty.”
I smiled to myself, imagining Daniel laying down the law like that and putting the fear of God into that bully. I almost wished I had been there to see it.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I asked.
“Well, there was a warrant out for his arrest – he wasn’t supposed to leave Dane County and he missed multiple mandatory check-ins with his parole officer. Now that we’ve arrested him, he’ll be transferred to a corrections facility in Wisconsin this week.”
I smiled.
That was right where he belonged.
“Thanks for doing that, Daniel,” I said. “You don’t know how much this’ll mean to Tiana. And to Tobias, too.”
He shrugged nonchalantly.
“Aw, it was nothing,” he said, bringing my hand up to his lips and kissing it. “Just doing my job.”
But it wasn’t nothing – not at all.
In fact, for Tiana and her future, what Daniel had done meant everything.
I was happy. Not just for Tiana and Tobias, but to have a husband who could set things right like that. Who was able to stick up for people who couldn’t stick up for themselves. The fact that he didn’t even know that he was practically a hero to Tiana made it all the more endearing.
I turned toward him just as we pulled up to the small cabin by a creek, and gazed at him for a long moment.
He put the truck in park and turned off the engine. Then he caught me looking.
“What?”
I smiled. Then I just shook my head.
“
Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all.”
There weren’t really words for it anyway.
Chapter 66
Most people would have been uneasy if the county sheriff showed up on their porch out of the blue – especially someone who chose to live so removed from society as he did. But the man with the dark eyes and the limp and the scar on his face didn’t seem to be in the least bit nervous or concerned by his visitors.
“I had a feeling you might show up here one of these days,” he said, just a hint of a smile on his thin lips. “Ever since that day up at the pass. Some people in this life, you just know you’re gonna cross paths with again.”
He sat back down in the rustic wooden chair by the stove. The fire crackling in the old rusted metal box filled the cabin up with a bright warmth that was downright cozy and inviting. A window in the back was open, and a soft breeze fluttered the faded plaid curtains.
The space was sparsely furnished, with hardly anything but the barest of necessities. No TV, no microwave – no electronics of any sort that I could see, in fact. Everything was practical. The only things that could be deemed frivolous was the well-worn guitar sitting propped up in the corner, and a single faded photograph of a young woman and a girl on one of the walls. The photograph looked old.
There weren’t even any records here – not even his own. Nothing that spoke of his life before when he was a folk singer.
He nodded for us to take a seat in the only other chairs in the small cabin. I sat and placed the pastry box I’d brought on my lap.
“You’re not an easy man to find, sir,” Daniel said.
“No, and that’s the way I usually like it,” Tom Bullock said. “But I suppose a couple of visitors every now and then isn’t such a bad thing. My daughter Rachel tells me I need to get out more. That I’m becoming like a wild animal by staying out here alone so much. But I tell you, the most intelligent things I’ve known in my life have been animals. I don’t mind being compared to one of them.”
He smiled, the effort causing crow’s feet to pull at the corners of his dark eyes.
