“Five minutes,” she said, and when I looked up to meet her eyes again, there was something new there, something pleading and sad that surprised me. “Stay with me for five more minutes. Please?”
I might have squinted or wrinkled my nose. Something in my face asked the question my voice didn’t.
“I get scared. I know its stupid. I’m a grown woman. But it’s so quiet here. And I’m just not used to being…so alone.” She looked down as she said the last part, and that little disloyal piece of my heart twisted again inside my chest.
“Okay,” I said, wishing for the sadness to disappear from her. Harper was bright and glorious—seeing her sad made the world feel tilted and wrong. “It is Friday night, after all.” I felt a smile come naturally to my face. I’d go home and wallow to punish myself, but I didn’t want to punish Harper. If she wanted company, I’d be company.
She got up and went to the coffee table in the front room, returning with a deck of cards in her hands. “War?’
“Really?”
She lifted a shoulder and cut the cards in half, giving me one part of the deck.
“You’re not even going to deal?”
“What difference does it make? It’s not a real game.”
“I’ll teach you a real game.” I held out my hand for the rest of the cards and shuffled them multiple times before dealing us each seven cards and setting up the table for Kings in the Corners.
“I’ve played this,” she said, her voice breathy suddenly as she squinted at the cards. “A long time ago.”
“This is a mountain card game,” I said. “We never played it at home, but every time we were up here we played this game all the time.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice still quiet, her eyes distant.
I reminded her how to play, but she was right—this wasn’t her first time. The night ebbed around us, quiet outside the windows of the big house, and it was hard not to feel a little bit content, a little bit settled, for the first time in a long time.
I ended up staying a lot longer than five minutes, and there were stretches of the evening when I didn’t think about things, about Jess, for long periods at once. And then when she’d come back to mind, the guilt would crush me again. But each time it did, it felt just a little bit less heavy than the time before.
When it was time to go home, I found myself wishing I could stay in the light open space of Harper’s living room, in the warm glow of her smile.
As I finally pulled open the front door to go, I remembered my sister telling me to invite her tomorrow. “Hey, are you free tomorrow night?”
Her face lit up. “Well, I’ll have to check my Hello Kitty datebook.”
I chuckled. “My sister’s having a few people over for dinner at six. She asked me to bring you along if you’re up to it.”
Harper actually bounced on her toes and clapped her hands together in front of her—it was utterly charming and a little piece of my heart attached to her then, surprising me. “I’d love that.”
“We’ll go together, if you like.”
“Thanks, Cam,” she said. And as I walked down the front steps, I could feel those pretty eyes on my back, watching me leave.
I worried as I walked home about how attached I was beginning to feel to the gorgeous woman who’d come bounding into my life. I didn’t suffer from any misbeliefs about what I did or didn’t deserve—I wasn’t quite that masochistic. But I did believe that people and things I felt too personally attached to tended to die, and while a rational piece of my mind knew that couldn’t be true, I’d seen enough evidence that it was that I couldn’t quite convince myself it was crazy. I couldn’t let Harper too close—as much as I might wish I could. The universe seemed to like keeping me alone, and unbalancing the universe wasn’t on my to-do list.
We could be friends, but I’d keep my distance and my priorities.
If I possibly could.
Chapter 8
HARPER
Even though it was Saturday, I went into the Inn. I hadn’t slept well thanks to the mountain lion screaming intermittently—whenever I was about to drift off, mostly—and because I still couldn’t quite settle into the big house. I’d have preferred to lounge a bit longer, but that wasn’t going to happen.
Mike had called the day before and asked if I’d mind just meeting with her and Maddie, getting a little background on the wedding plans.
“She’s becoming a little stressed about things, I think,” Mike confided. “And I just don’t want her to worry. It’ll just be quick and casual. Originally we were just going to meet for coffee, but since you’re here now, I thought you should probably be there too.”
“Of course,” I had said, eager to make a good impression.
It was hard to know what was appropriate dress for work in a place where most people walked around in jeans from ten years ago and dirty boots, and where kitsch seemed to pass for culture. Adele at the diner had been sporting dangling earrings last time I’d been in—the plastic kind with three large round beads hanging on them in varying sizes. Ranger George’s wife had dropped by the house to say hello to me, and she’d been wearing a “scat identification” T-shirt with a Kings Grove logo on it. When people were wearing shirts explaining how to ID different kinds of poop, I figured I had a pretty open field in terms of appropriate work wear.
I decided to go with Michaela Grayson’s example, and put on a pair of black pants, a low wide black heel, and a wrap blouse that tied on one side. I left my hair down, and put on only mascara and lipstick.
An hour later, Maddie, Mike and I sat on the front deck of the Inn, looking out over the verdant green meadow to one side, the sweeping wild hillside to the other, and the distant parking lot and cluster of little buildings that made up the center of Kings Grove in front of us. We each held a cup of coffee, and the mood was much more girlfriends-for-coffee than stressed-about-a-wedding.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Maddie said, then shot a worried look at Mike. “Not that Mike couldn’t handle it, but things at the Inn have ramped up so fast it makes me feel good to know there’s someone focused just on events.”
“I’m glad to be here,” I told her. It was hard to look at Maddie without thinking about Cam—there was something similar about them, but her bright forthright attitude was a stark contrast to his more reserved demeanor.
“I’ll be honest,” Maddie leaned in. “Mike and I have coffee most Saturdays just to talk. Mostly I wanted to meet you.”
I raised an eyebrow and heard myself say, “oh,” surprised. “Why’s that?”
Maddie raised a shoulder and gave me a guilty smile. “Nosey, I guess. And you’re up there so close to my brother, I guess I feel a little protective.”
I nodded, I could understand that. But Mike said, “Seems like Cam can take care of himself. Isn’t he the big brother?”
A sad smile crossed Maddie’s face and she put her cup down. “It’s been a rough couple years for him,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Makes sense,” Mike said. Then she straightened a bit and asked, “Should we talk wedding details?”
Maddie’s face brightened and I pulled a notebook from my bag. “Yes,” she said. “I’m a little worried about the venue getting done. It’s going to be well over a hundred people, so I hope things will go smoothly.”
“I might be new,” I told her, “but I’m pretty good at getting projects in on time. I’ll be on top of this one.”
“Well, that’s the other thing. My brother’s supposed to be on top of this one,” she said, her voice betraying the skepticism she clearly felt. “Have you spent much time with him?” She was leaning forward, her voice low, and I couldn’t tell if she was about to tell me something or if she was hoping I had something to tell her about Cam instead.
“A little,” I said, feeling a surge of protectiveness toward Cam that I didn’t expect. “We’ve sat out around the fire pit a couple times, but we haven’t really talked wedding venue stuff.�
��
“He’s a good guy,” she said finally. “Between the two of you, I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Well, I don’t have a lot of control over construction,” I said. “But Mike and I will have a plan B in place that will be just as amazing, just in case.”
Mike nodded. “Definitely. You have nothing to worry about.”
Maddie sighed. “This is crazy because I’m a photographer, but I’m worried about the pictures. I have a friend coming to do the stills, but I really want some kind of video and I haven’t found anyone I like.”
“Isn’t Cam a film guy?” Mike asked.
“He was a producer, not a cameraman.” Maddie sipped her coffee, staring out over the meadow. The three of us were silent a moment, watching a deer pick its way through the tall grass.
An idea was beginning to form in my mind. “Maybe we need both,” I said. Both women looked at me. “This is just a thought, and we’d need to ask him, but what if we did something a little outside the realm of the standard wedding film? What if we made it kind of a B-roll for the Inn at the same time, something we could show prospective clients considering planning events with us? We could produce two versions—one that focused on your wedding, of course, and one that gave a broader view of the Inn and its facilities?”
Mike’s eyes stayed on my face a long minute and then she turned to Maddie with a smile. “The Inn would cover the cost of production—we’d use it as advertising.”
“Use my wedding for advertising?” Maddie frowned. “Connor doesn’t like being the center of attention. He really treasures his privacy. He wouldn’t go for it.”
“Just sweeping crowd and venue shots, maybe a few of the ceremony that don’t show faces, but we’d capture the essence of the day,” I suggested. “And then your own version, of course, would have everything.”
Maddie sat still for a minute, her lips pressed together as she thought. Then, dipping her chin slightly like she was going to ask a favor, she said, “Yes, I like it. We can talk to my brother about it tonight. You’re both coming to dinner, right?” She looked back and forth between me and Mike.
“He mentioned it. Six?” I confirmed.
“Yep,” she said as Mike nodded, confirming she’d be there too.
“Great,” Maddie said. “Cam will take some wrangling, but leave it to me.”
The rest of the hour was spent covering wedding details and chatting about things completely unrelated. By the time I got back in my car to drive home, a strange feeling had settled inside me—one I hadn’t felt in a long time. I realized after a while that I felt content, and more than that, I felt oddly at home.
My dad called later when I was sprawled on a deck chair just outside the front door, watching the hillside beyond the cabin and trying to make some notes.
“Hey Harper,” Dad started tentatively. “Just wanted to check in.”
“Hi.” I wanted to continue being angry at him, but seeing him at lunch the other day had made it harder to picture him as the devil. He’d also hinted around the idea that things hadn’t been as simple as I’d imagined when Mom had taken me and left. And I considered that. I’d been through some complicated relationship stuff of my own, so I could understand that idea a bit.
“You getting settled in okay? Need anything?”
“I’m doing okay.”
“Listen, do you want to maybe come by the house tonight? Have dinner?”
The thought of going back to our house, to the place I’d been so happy as a little girl, was both tempting and repelling. I didn’t know how I’d feel there, and had purposely avoided even driving by the place, which was easy to do since it wasn’t on the main route I had to drive to get into town. “Actually, I have plans.”
He paused, and I guessed he might be surprised I was already filling a social calendar. “That’s good, honey. What are you up to?”
No harm in telling him, I figured. “Dinner over at Connor Charles and Maddie Turner’s place.”
“Well that’ll be interesting,” he said. “Cam going too, I guess?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe you and I can get together soon?” The hope in his voice made my heart hurt and I wanted to hang up so I could go on being angry at him.
“Maybe.”
He sighed, and then tried again. “Should I call you tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said. “Talk to you then.”
“Bye honey,” He said, and then he was gone.
I spent the rest of the morning staring over the railing of the deck, straining to see a mountain lion I imagined stalking through the trees, or whatever was over there howling at night. But the shadowed ground beneath the trees was still and silent, and my only distraction was the constant calling of the birds in the trees above me, and the wheels turning inside my head.
I didn’t see Cam until late in the day, though his truck came and went a couple times. I’d notice it’s presence or absence in the driveway as I moved around the house trying to get myself organized for the coming week. When I ran out ways to occupy myself, I took a long nap. I didn’t sleep well at night—the big house around me felt foreign and much too empty still—but during the day when I had the filtered yellow of the mountain sunlight to keep me company, I didn’t mind so much.
At five-thirty, I was dressed and ready to go to Maddie’s, waiting for Cam. I couldn’t help peering out the windows, not wanting to be surprised when he came to the door. He emerged from his house as I peeked out the kitchen window, and I felt my heart accelerate a bit, anticipating him knocking at my door a minute later. But he didn’t come around the side of the house. Instead, he moved behind the house and down the hill toward the little creek and the wild hillside beyond, a bowl in one hand and a water bottle in the other. I’d thought they were things he was taking to Maddie’s, but he clearly had other plans for them.
He returned a few minutes later, the water bottle empty and a thoughtful look on his handsome face. He glanced up toward my windows and our eyes met for a minute, my stomach clenching as heat flooded my cheeks. I’d been caught. He disappeared back inside his house and I realized with some embarrassment that I’d turned into the nosey neighbor, spying out my window to keep track of the goings on in the neighborhood. Next thing I knew, I’d be wearing a terry cloth robe while I did it.
I huffed out a breath and straightened up—I hadn’t even realized I’d been leaning forward so far to spy.
I was still in the midst of being embarrassed by my own behavior when Cam knocked at the front door, and my heart skittered around inside me again.
What was wrong with me?
“Hey,” I said, pulling the door open a second later.
He smiled—it wasn’t a wide smile, but I sensed that his guard had dropped a little bit around me, and I was glad. “Hey yourself,” he said.
“Did you see the…the animal?” I asked, figuring it was best to just acknowledge my spying.
He leaned against the door frame, shaking his head. “No, but it’s alive. I could hear it whimpering. It’s back inside a little cave, but I don’t want to lose a hand, so I’m not going in there.”
“Can’t blame you.” I turned and swept my purse off the couch behind me. “Have you figured out what it is?” I asked as we both stepped out onto the porch. I handed Cam the bottle of wine I’d picked out to take to Maddie as I locked the front door.
“Not really.” He handed the bottle back as he opened the passenger door of his truck for me, and I settled inside. He waited and closed the door once I was tucked in, and then came around the front to his side.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but that little act of chivalry struck a chord with me. It had been a long time since I’d felt looked after in the way Cam’s small gentlemanly act made me feel. In New York, everything moved at such a frenetic pace, it was very much every man for himself. Andrew would open a door for me here and there, but I took care of myself—even inside the relationship, I’d often sensed that I was on my
own somehow. I just hadn’t realized how lonely that was until it was over. Cam’s tiny act filled me with warmth, and I had a reassuring sense that coming up here had been a good thing, though I tried to push it away and keep my mind locked on my target. Austin. Six months.
“Honestly,” he continued once we were both closed in the cab of his truck. “I can’t figure out what it is, but I don’t think it’s a bear or a bobcat, or any of the wildlife we typically get around here.”
“That’s so weird,” I said. “Should we send the rangers out to check it out?”
“More likely they’ll just call animal control. Rangers aren’t really prepared to crawl into dark caves after injured animals. I’m guessing they’ll probably just opt to let whatever it is die in there since it’s not threatening anyone.”
I shivered, thinking of whatever was in there, suffering in the dark, maybe in pain. “Poor thing,” I said.
Cam drove slowly down the potholed roads of the little village, and I stared out the windows at the familiar landscape of my youth. We passed a rock that sloped up out of the ground next to a little green and white cabin on the side of the meadow. “Running Rock is still there,” I said, mostly to myself.
Cam laughed, slowing the car to look with me at the big rock, light grey against the bright green of the meadow beyond. “You call it Running Rock too?”
“I guess that’s it’s name,” I said, just as surprised as he was to find I hadn’t made the name up myself. “I thought only I called it that. It’s the only rock you can run right up the side of if you get a fast enough start down the hill.”
“I know,” Cam said, his eyes meeting mine. “Maddie and I called it that too. Used to run up it every time we went around the meadow as kids.”
I grinned, settling back into the seat as Cam guided the car past the rock. That was one of the things I was starting to remember about Kings Grove—the mountain mentality and the shared lore of the village. These houses had been here, in some way, shape, or form, for a hundred years, and most of the families had been, too. That meant we shared a common knowledge, and a common love, of a place that defied description to those who hadn’t spent their lives here.
Love Reclaimed: (Clean Small-Town Romance) (Kings Grove Book 4) Page 8
