by Nan Rossiter
When Gage came in a few minutes later, carrying his rifle, she told him about the call.
He nodded. “Would you mind taking him?”
“Sure,” she said haltingly. “Don’t you want to go?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think I want to meet someone who rescues wild animals when I’m the one who orphaned him.”
“Sage actually said it happens pretty often—wild animals become too bold around humans and their dwellings and it creates problems. She was surprised, though, that there was only one kit because there’re usually several in a litter.”
Gage shrugged. “I only saw one, but I’ll keep my eye out . . . not that I’d be able to catch any. The only reason I caught this one was because he was inside the fence.”
Maeve nodded. “Maybe, if there are others, they’re old enough to get by on their own.”
“Maybe,” Gage said, “but I hope they don’t settle around here.” He wiped his brow with the shoulder of his shirt. “When are you taking him?”
“I told her I’d be right over.”
“I think the crate will fit in the back of your Jeep . . . unless you want to take the truck.”
“It doesn’t matter—whichever you think is better.”
“Okay, I’ll go see.” He went outside, gingerly picked up the crate, and carried it to her Jeep, trying not to spill the water, but he ended up putting it in the back of his truck, and when she came out, he handed her his keys.
“I’ll be back,” she said with a sad half smile. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I still love you.”
He smiled, too. “Well, that’s good to know.” He pulled her toward him. “Even though I’m all sweaty?”
“Especially because you’re all sweaty,” she said, glad he was smiling. She kissed him and then turned to go, but stopped and looked back. “Try to be showered when I get back, though.”
“I don’t have time for hanky-panky,” he teased.
“Your loss,” she said, waving as she pulled away.
“My loss, indeed,” he said, laughing. He went back inside with Gus at his heels, the big Lab trotting happily across the porch, thankful that the infiltrator had been removed from the premises, but he did peer into the box holding the new little chicks and gave them a quick sniff—no danger posed there!
Gage cleaned his rifle, and as he locked it back in its case, he ran his hand over the smooth, glowing wood and smiled. Unlike his dad, Dutch had understood when he told him he didn’t like hunting, but he’d said, “You just keep it for when you need it, Gage.”
“I guess I needed it today, Dutch,” he whispered. He looked at the picture of his grandfather on the drawing table and then remembered the jewelry box. Had he really had the presence of mind to put it away? Everything had happened so quickly, so he couldn’t be sure . . . but he must’ve, thank goodness. He really wanted to surprise Maeve!
29
“ARE YOU HUNGRY?” SUE ASKED AS THEY LEFT BEAU BARTHOLOMEW’S office.
“Starving,” Mason replied. “Those cookies were really good—I could’ve eaten the whole plate, but I thought better of it because they seemed a little possessive of their baked goods.”
“Especially your mom’s apple pie,” Sue said, laughing, as she unlocked her car.
Mason nodded. “I have her recipe, and she showed me several times how to make her crust . . . maybe I’ll try to bake one and bring it over. They were so nice.”
“They were,” Sue agreed. “So, where should we go for lunch?”
Mason shook his head and shrugged. “You pick.”
“Cantaberry?”
“That sounds good. I haven’t been there in a long time.”
“Want to see if Ali wants to meet us?”
“She’s not working?” he asked, knowing Ali’s job as a lifeguard kept her very busy in the summer.
“Nope, she has the day off.”
“That would be great. I’ll text her,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket.
Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a table by the front window, waiting for Ali and scanning their menus. “Know what you’re gonna have?” Sue asked, taking a sip of her iced tea.
Mason frowned thoughtfully. “I’m definitely having a bowl of tomato basil soup, so maybe I’ll do the half sandwich and soup combo.”
“I’m sure you can eat a whole sandwich.”
He smiled. “Probably.” Then he looked up. “By the way, lunch is on me.”
“Oh, no it isn’t!”
“Mm-hmm,” he said. “You came with me . . . and you’ve done so much, and besides, I just came into a small fortune.”
“You did that,” Sue said, laughing. “But I still want to treat.”
“Nope. It’s on me,” he said firmly.
“Okay, okay,” she said, relenting. “You’re just like your mom—stubborn!”
Mason laughed and sipped his iced tea.
“It’s nice to hear you laughing, Mason,” she said, her kind eyes seeking his.
Mason nodded. “It’s good to laugh,” he said. “Before Mom died, I didn’t think I would ever laugh again, but she said I would, and I should’ve known she’d be right.”
“She usually was right,” Sue said, smiling. “She was a very wise lady.”
Mason nodded.
“How do you really feel about her asking Mr. Bartholomew to send in your deposit?”
Mason shook his head. “It’s just like her to do something like that, and, honestly, I was kind of upset at first, but how can I be mad? I was such a mess back when it was due, and I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to go to college, but now, I’m faced with fall and winter alone in an empty house, working a dead-end job, and I guess I might go a little crazy. I also know how much she wanted me to go, so now, at least it’s an option.”
Sue nodded, and then paused, studying him. “Mason, I know it’s not my business . . .”
Mason looked up. “The envelope,” he said with a half smile, finishing her thought.
She nodded, but she didn’t want to press him, so she waited.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know she wants me to find her—I mean, she made me promise, but I’ve never understood why it’s so important. After all these years, what’s the point? She didn’t want me. She didn’t want to be part of my life, so how do I know she’d want me to reach out now, and why should I let her be part of my life?”
Sue bit her lip. “I completely understand why you feel that way, hon. It’s natural to think she didn’t want you . . . or want to be part of your life. She gave you up, right?”
Mason nodded.
“But it wasn’t that simple. Your mom and I were both there that day. I wasn’t in the delivery room like your mom, but I saw her being brought in, and she was so young—late teens at most—and she looked terrified.”
“That’s no excuse,” Mason said. “Lots of teenage women—and men—raise children.”
“They do,” Sue agreed, “but not every one of them is ready.”
“Maybe she should have thought about that before she got pregnant.”
Sue nodded. “Maybe she should have, Mason, but people aren’t perfect, and you don’t know what was going on in her life.”
Mason leaned back in his seat and folded his arms, obviously unmoved.
“When you came into the world, Mase, you didn’t even weigh four pounds, but you were perfect in every way, and your mom—who was such a pro with preemies—had you cleaned up in no time, and after she had you all settled, she went back to the young woman’s room and found her crying. She told your mom she had a summer job at her college and couldn’t possibly keep you—she hadn’t told anyone she was pregnant, not even her parents, and she wasn’t ready to be a mom. She said she was planning to look into adoption but she hadn’t had the chance. She’d been hiking when she started to have labor pains and realized you’d decided to come early. Your mom—knowing she was giving you up for adoption—whisked you
out of the delivery room before she saw you or even knew if you were a boy or girl. That evening, she was absolutely beside herself and begged your mom to let her hold you, but your mom told her it was better if there was no contact and, in fact, it wasn’t allowed. But later, your mom gave in, and with me keeping watch, she smuggled you into her room.
“You were this tiny little bundle with a copper halo, and we could tell you were going to have red hair, just like her. And when your mom gently laid you in her arms, she looked at you for such a long time with tears streaming down her cheeks, and then she looked up at your mom and said, ‘Can you take my picture with him so he can have it someday?’ And your mom agreed and quickly took a picture with the camera we kept in the nursery.
“By then, your mom was misty, too, and the young woman tearfully thanked her, and seeing how tenderhearted your mom was, she asked her if there was any way she could be the one to adopt you. Your mom didn’t know what to say. It was such an unexpected request. Your mom loved babies, but she wasn’t married and didn’t think she’d ever have children. She had devoted her life to taking care of her parents, and she’d just lost both of them within days of each other. She was so brokenhearted, and then out of the blue, this happened—and to her, it felt too timely to be a coincidence. It was as if it was all happening for a reason . . . and she wondered if you were a gift from God to fill the empty void her parents had left. So, without knowing how in the world she would do it, she said yes.”
Mason bit his lip, his eyes glistening. “How come she never told me this?”
“I don’t know why she never told you, but I do know, as you grew up and started asking questions—some of which she didn’t have answers to—she sensed you were struggling to understand why your real mom gave you up, and because you stopped wanting to talk about it, she prayed that, one day, you’d find it in your heart to forgive her. She believed if you met her, your questions would be answered and you might understand what happened—what was going on in her life back then. Your mom thought it would heal the sadness in your heart, and she was very thankful, several years ago, when the young woman sent a note, thanking her for taking care of you, and including her address—just in case you ever wanted to find her.”
Mason shook his head. “So much time has passed . . .” He looked out the window and saw Ali hurrying across the parking lot, her blond hair streaked with highlights from lifeguarding, and her golden suntanned skin looking even darker against her new snow-white Emory University T-shirt.
He looked back at Sue. “You know I’m going to keep my promise,” he said with a half smile.
Sue smiled back and nodded. “I know you will, and I hope you end up being glad you did. And before I forget, are you coming to the NICU tomorrow?”
“I am,” he said, wiping his eyes with his palms and mustering a smile for Ali.
Ali gave them each a hug and sat down next to Mason. “Well? How’d it go?” she asked, picking up her menu.
“It went,” Mason said.
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
She glanced at the three iced teas on the table. “Is one of these for me?”
“It is,” Mason confirmed.
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. “I’m parched! So, do you guys already know what you’re having?” she asked, glancing at the menu and seeing two of Mason’s favorites.
Sue nodded. “I’m having chicken salad.”
“And I’m having . . .” Mason began, dramatically closing his menu.
Ali eyed him suspiciously. “Please tell me you’re not . . .”
“Yep . . . but in my defense, the tomato soup has basil and the grilled cheese is made with American, cheddar, and Swiss—not just American.”
30
AS MAEVE DROVE BACK HOME AFTER DROPPING OFF THE BABY FOX, SHE turned on the radio in Gage’s truck and heard George Strait’s familiar voice drift from the speakers, singing the much-loved song “I Cross my Heart,” and as she listened to the tender lyrics, her thoughts drifted back to Gage working in the hot sun, digging a grave for the mama fox. And then she remembered the jewelry box she’d seen on his table—the box she’d somehow managed to resist opening. It had to be earrings, she surmised now, because she couldn’t imagine Gage going into a jewelry store and picking out an engagement ring all on his own! She tried to picture him standing in front of the glass case in his jeans and T-shirt . . . or maybe he’d dressed up . . . which, to him, meant putting on a button-down. She smiled, her heart swelling with love for his casual, down-to-earth ways, and then she pictured him in his blue button-down—the one that matched his eyes—talking to a jeweler and choosing a diamond, a setting, and a band. Did he even know what the four Cs—carrot, clarity, cut, and color—were? Because if he was seriously thinking about proposing, and if he’d already purchased a ring, then she needed to seriously think about telling him what had happened in her past. It wasn’t fair to let him venture down this road when she was holding back something that had always cast such a long shadow over her life.
As she turned onto their road, she started to rehearse the words she’d rehearsed so many times before—describing how . . . and explaining why—but that she’d never let spill from her lips because she worried what he would think . . . and how he would react. Damn, she thought miserably, tears stinging her eyes. I may as well just move out. How could I have not told him before now?
She pulled into the driveway and looked in the rearview mirror to make sure she didn’t look like Sam’s pet raccoon. Then she bit her lip and gathered her courage—if she didn’t put this behind them once and for all . . . she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
“Mmm, you smell good,” she said when she walked into the kitchen.
“You told me to shower before you got back . . . and I always listen.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, sounding skeptical. “I don’t know about always.”
“Did you have lunch?” he asked. “I just had a sandwich, and I can make one for you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry. We had snacks at coffee hour after church.”
He nodded, putting away the mayo and mustard. “How was church? I never got to ask you.”
“It was fine.”
“Were your parents there?”
“Yep,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.
“And . . . how are they?” he asked, exaggerating the word they, and eyeing her curiously because her answers were so brief.
“Fine,” she said, studying the drawing on his table. “You know, this really is amazing.”
“Thanks,” he said, coming up behind her.
“You should enter it in a contest.”
“Maybe,” he replied.
“You have his eyes,” she said, smiling. “And now I know where you and Chase got your good looks.”
“Dutch was better looking,” he said, smiling. “Anyway, how’d it go? You know, dropping off the fox. What did she say?”
“She said she was going to release it into the wild as soon as it was old enough.”
“Not around here, I hope.”
“Probably up in the Blue Ridge Mountains somewhere.”
“The farther away, the better,” he said, putting his arms around her.
Maeve reached up and put her hands on his arms as he softly kissed her neck.
“Mmm, you smell pretty good, too.”
She closed her eyes and felt him press against her, already aroused. “It doesn’t take much, does it?” she teased.
“Nope,” he murmured.
“Gage,” she began haltingly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Mmm, what is it?” he asked, sliding his hands over her hips.
Maeve swallowed, trying to remember the words she’d rehearsed as she’d driven home, and then she felt him slide his hands under her blouse and bra, lightly touching her breasts.
“Hmm, doesn’t take much, does it?” he teased.
“Nope,” she murmured, laughi
ng and still trying to think of how to begin.
“I thought you had something to tell me,” he whispered, as he unzipped the front of her jeans.
“You’re making it hard,” she said.
“No, you’re making it hard,” he whispered in her ear.
“I mean hard to concentrate.”
“I can stop,” he offered, as he slid his hand inside her underwear.
“No, you can’t,” she teased.
And then, to prove he could, he started to withdraw his hand, but she put her hand on his and guided it back down.
“So you don’t want me to stop? Okay . . .” He pushed her jeans down and then unzipped his own and pressed against her bare skin.
She opened her eyes and noticed the picture looking up at them. “I don’t know if Dutch would approve of this,” she whispered.
Gage chuckled. “Yes, he would,” he said, turning the picture over. “He would absolutely approve,” he said softly. He pulled her toward the bedroom, and leaving his jeans and boxers in a heap on the floor, lay on the bed beside her. She turned to him and he brushed his lips across hers before kissing her deep and full, all the while teasing her body. Unable to hold on any longer, she pulled him on top of her and felt him press deeper, rhythmic and solemn and intimate and true, and she pulled him in as deep as she could.
Finally, breathless, he slipped to her side. “Now, wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me?” he whispered, lightly brushing wisps of copper hair out of her turquoise-blue eyes.
“There was,” she said, realizing she’d lost all her resolve. “My parents invited us for dinner on Friday.”
“Oh, okay. I thought it was something more serious—you sounded kind of funny.”
“Nope,” she lied. “Just that. Ben and Macey and Harper are going, too.”
“Sounds fun,” Gage said. “We haven’t been over there in a while.”
“That’s what my mom said . . . and she said to be sure to bring Gus.”
“That reminds me . . . where is Gus?” But just as he said the words, they heard thumping and looked over to see the big yellow Lab with his chin on the quilt, wagging his whole hind end. “There you are,” Gage said, laughing. “Did you hear the news? You get to go, too!”
