Snowstorm at Cedar Creek

by J. L. Jarvis

  Ella’s eyes locked on Connor’s.

  Finn studied Annie. She appeared composed until she lifted her eyebrows. He guessed what she was thinking. She’d barely had time to adjust—she couldn’t be expected to host a sleepover. Cheerily, Finn said, “Connor, the loft in the A-frame is just as you left it. Well, a little cleaner, but you get the idea.” He gave Connor his Dad look to make sure he got the idea.

  It took Annie a few seconds to catch on. She turned to Ella. “There are clean sheets and towels in the linen closet.”

  Ella was silent and expressionless for long moments. “Okay,” she finally said.

  Finn clapped his hands on his knees and got up. “It’s been...” No, long day wouldn’t sound right. Eventful day sounds snarky. “An exciting evening.” Right. Not exactly the first thought anyone here would have looking back on this evening, but shocking would have been worse. He started to smile but caught Connor’s look. Since his son was age ten, that expression had meant only one thing. What is your problem?

  Finn slept surprisingly well. Some things were inevitable. Anything adult children did fell under that umbrella. His son was a grown man, and he’d made a choice. To Connor’s credit, he’d made a far better choice than Finn had at his age. Maybe that was why Finn had taken the news better than Annie. Ella wasn’t perfect, but he couldn’t imagine her making anyone miserable—not like Finn had been with Georgina. Finn had married a beautiful woman. That made Finn an idiot, because he thought that was enough. What was worse, she had a brain, and she knew how to use it. But he’d made a commitment, so he hung in there for years. Of course, the wedding vows were enough of a reason to stick around, but when he talked her out of an abortion, he had an even stronger reason. He’d vowed to be there for Connor—and he always was.

  Be happy, Connor.

  Finn was still lazily lounging in bed when a loud and relentless knocking sounded on his front door. Wow, Ella’s eager. He hollered, “Connor! Can you get the door?”

  Silence.

  “Connor?” Finn exhaled and begrudgingly dragged himself out of bed. He grabbed the jeans he’d left draped on a chair, pulled them on, glanced about, found a T-shirt, went to the door, and opened it. “Annie?”

  She stormed in and plopped down in a chair at the kitchen island. “Unbelievable!” She shook her head for a moment, lifted red-rimmed eyes, and scowled. “You look awfully calm.”

  Finn squinted. “I just got up. I can’t think before coffee. You know that. But I'm not really calm. This is more of a coma.”

  She cast him a scathing glare then shook her head and grabbed his grandmother’s coffee canister but stopped when she saw a note taped to it. Without so much as a glance to see what the note said, she pulled it off the canister and handed it to Finn. “Oh, look.” She sounded unsurprised. “You got one too.”

  By the time Finn finished reading, he heard coffee dripping in the pot. “They’ve got to be kidding.”

  Annie nodded. “What does it say?”

  Finn read, “‘We’re going to Vegas. We’ll be back at my apartment in time for my first day of work.’”

  “Mine says, ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re not happy about our engagement. Preparing for a wedding would be worse—and expensive, so we’ve eloped.’”

  Finn and Annie stared at each other in stunned silence. Someone had to say something. The tension was too thick to bear. “Think of the money you’re saving.” He smiled, hoping she’d see the bright side or at least laugh.

  Annie narrowed her eyes. “Drink your coffee.” She left.

  What did I say? Finn followed her as far as the door and pondered the question until she got back to her cottage.

  4

  Annie sat in the kitchen and exhaled. She’d been abrupt if not rude. Finn didn’t deserve that. She was angry, but not at him. She wasn’t even sure who she was angry with. Connor and Ella were just being kids, except that they weren't. They were adults, and they were in love. Still, Annie had every right to be taken aback by her daughter’s sudden decision to run off and get married, but couples did that all the time. Actually, what they did even more often was skip the wedding and move in together. She ought to be happy they’d gone the traditional route, but she couldn’t help her knee-jerk reaction. Worse, she couldn’t understand it.

  And then there was Finn, someone she’d relegated to a wave from across the figurative fence she’d erected between them. To be fair, he’d tried to smooth over the tension. That was Finn in a nutshell. No matter how many years passed since the days they were close, she could go to him if she needed to. She never did, but knowing she could made life’s dark moments manageable. She hadn’t been fair to him by walking away with no explanation. He probably knew she didn’t blame him for Ella and Connor running away to elope, but he deserved to be told that.

  Annie followed the creek to a canopied place in the woods where the sun shone through a bare patch in the overhead branches, casting a warm amber glow. She’d found the secret clearing during a childhood adventure and returned to it whenever she needed time alone. She sat down on a bench she had fashioned from logs, and she breathed in the earthy scent of the creek bank as the water gurgled by. Even after all these years, this was the one place that made her feel in control.

  That was the crux of her problem. She’d lost control. When her marriage with Matt had been spinning out of control, Annie had never let her troubles show in other parts of her life. That was a fact she was proud of. Matt had broken her heart long before he’d left her.

  Left you. Can’t you admit it yet? Matt didn’t leave you. He died.

  There went her self-control. Ignoring the tears that moistened her eyes, she was still. It was only a wave of grief. It would pass. After twenty-one years, she’d learned to give in to the waves. They always passed, and life went on again. But for those moments, she felt the same desperate loss of control.

  That was why she had walked away from Finn earlier. She had to. She couldn’t let him see her like that. She’d spent too many years maintaining her grace-under-pressure facade to let it tumble down in a heap in one weak moment.

  As a rule, she tried not to care what people thought, but the looks on their faces weren’t always easy to bear. That sort of pity felt like a knife to the heart, even though it often came from genuine kindness. Seeing a similar expression in Finn’s eyes would destroy her.

  Her life was okay. It was good. She had made it that way. She had been twenty-one when she lost her husband. Lost. As if she’d misplaced him. No one lost Matt. He’d been bigger than life, but not bigger than the tree he wrapped his car around. His death came as a shock to everyone except Annie. When she met him, his burning passion for life had thrilled her. He appeared like a flash of brilliant light, as though he’d been sent to deliver her from her love for Finn. And it worked. He was the antidote, the polar opposite of Finn in every way. After years of pining away over Finn, she could finally let go and leave him behind. Matt swept her away with his burning intensity. He adored her, at least for a few months. If only she’d known his devotion that exploded like fireworks lighting the sky would burn out as quickly.

  Before long, Matt had moved onto his next adrenaline high. His addiction was danger. If it was risky, he did it—cliff jumping, paragliding, zip lining, skydiving, and rock climbing. There was no limit to what he would try. But his life was all about the next thrill, and Annie wasn’t it anymore. As far as she knew, he was faithful to her, but he’d lost interest. He was overjoyed about having a baby. But by then, Annie felt out of the loop in her own marriage.

  When she went into labor, she called him, but he didn’t answer. She texted and got no response. By the time she’d given birth to Ella, she was a widow. For all of Matt’s dangerous sports, he’d died in a car wreck on the way to work.

  She angrily brushed away tears. Annie, what are you doing? She finally got it. She wasn’t crying for Matt or even for Ella. She was crying for herself, for the time she had lost. The white-knuckled grip s
he’d kept on her life and Ella’s had been an absurd lie—most of all to herself. Life happened the way it was going to happen. For all of her love, she couldn’t protect Ella from learning that lesson the hard way.

  “I thought I’d find you here.”

  “Finn!” As if her startled expression didn’t tell him as much, she added, “You scared me!”

  He settled beside her in his usual place. “Sorry. I thought you’d hear me coming.”

  She shook her head no. “That’s okay.”

  Birdsong and rustling leaves were the only sounds until Finn drew in a breath. But before he could speak, Annie said, “Finn, I’m sorry. I wasn’t angry with you.”

  Unsurprised, he said, “I know. You’re too busy beating yourself up to be angry with me.”

  She shot him a sharp look. But the truth of his words sank in. He was on the right track, of course. This was Finn. If anyone got her, he did. “I just wanted to spare Ella what I think is a—” Abruptly, she stopped and began again. “A hasty decision.”

  “I don’t know. Connor tells me they’ve been together for four years.”

  “Well, I know Ella.” She’s got romantic ideas like I did when I was her age. Annie could feel his eyes on her.

  “Annie, they’ll be okay.” She flashed him a doubtful look, but he continued. “And if they’re not, they’re adults now. They’ll figure it out.”

  “Maybe they will, but I won’t.” She flitted her eyes toward him. “I forgot how annoying it is when you’re right.”

  He grinned. “I’m still right all the time. You just haven’t been around to see it.”

  That irked her, although she didn’t quite know why. “I’m around all the time, well, at least every summer. So are you.”

  He smirked, and it felt like they’d picked up where they’d left off years ago. “Well, I guess—if you can count waving from the driveway while you’re bringing in your groceries or walking out to the car.”

  Because I’m my best around you at arm’s length. A driveway’s length is even better. “It’s been a busy few years, decades really.”

  Finn’s expression softened.

  Could he see what that did to her? It felt so obvious to her—her flushed cheeks, throbbing pulse, and helplessness to control it.

  He said, “Maybe it’s for the best—the marriage. Now you’ll have some time to yourself.”

  He was trying to cheer her up. She wanted to convince him that he’d succeeded, but her heart contracted, and her emotions took over. “You’re right. I will.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He seemed sincerely confused.

  She forced a confident nod. “Yes.”

  His eyes softened. “Annie. I’m here if you need me. And you’ve always got Mr. Willoughby.”

  That drew a smile. “He does adore me.”

  “He’s not the only one.”

  Of course, he meant it in a platonic way, but his unwavering gaze made her heart skip a beat. Thanks to years of practice, she managed to hold it together. “When Ella went to college, the hardest part was the holidays. She was home for the big ones, but the little ones, when I had the day off, sometimes felt long.”

  “It just so happens that I’ve a little extra time on my hands these days. So if you feel like reliving the old days, just let me know.”

  That familiar inner glow flared up. That was such a Finn thing to say. “Thanks.” A sudden thought gripped her heart. “I forgot about Christmas.”

  His eyes twinkled. “December twenty-fifth. Every year.”

  Annie smirked. He was trying to lighten her mood, but it couldn’t help this time. “I mean I forgot that Ella might not be able to come home for Christmas.”

  Finn drew in air through clenched teeth. “Georgina’s family does have their big Christmas ski thing every year. But she can’t expect Connor to spend every Christmas with her. They’ll have to work that out. But what if you and I shared? If you’re willing, Connor and Ella could spend every other Christmas with us.”

  Annie wasn’t following him. “But why wouldn’t you be with Georgina?”

  His face went blank. “Oh. You don’t know. Because I haven’t told you. We’re divorced.”

  She hoped her face didn’t display all the emotions running through her. When she recovered from the shock, she said, “I didn’t know.”

  “I should have mentioned it sooner. It’s been six months. I ought to be used to it, but I keep forgetting who knows and who doesn’t, and I hate having to talk about it.”

  “Finn, I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Things were bad for so long that by the time she left me, she was putting me out of my misery. But still… when it happened, it was something to deal with.”

  Annie didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t known? But he knew that already. What else was there to say—that she was sorry? That she never liked Georgina? That she had no idea? But that wasn’t true. She’d kept her distance over the years, but even from next door, she’d noticed he only appeared happy when he was with Connor. She could envision them even now walking down to the creek with their fishing gear or playing catch in the yard.

  Her silence seemed to prompt him to explain. “I know. After two decades of marriage, you’re wondering what took us so long.”

  Annie shook her head, but she did, in fact, wonder.

  He glanced at her. “This is going to sound… I don’t know. I just believe they’re called wedding vows for a reason. And there was Connor. Anyway, the short version is, I hung in there. By the time Connor left for college, Georgina and I were in the same house living two separate lives.”

  Annie was too stunned to speak. They’d spent years doing no more than waving and saying hello from their driveways. Now here he was, opening up. It was a lot to take in.

  He let out a bitter laugh under his breath. “I don’t know why it should matter, but it really pissed me off that she left me for some guy in her spin class.”

  Annie winced.

  Finn nodded. “I know. After twenty-two years of marriage.” He shook his head. “Man, I’m old. So are you.” A grin bloomed on his face as he looked sideways at her.

  Annie gave his shoulder a shove. “Thanks.”

  “Sorry, Oakley. Can I help it if I’m good at math?”

  “Same old Finn. And by that, I mean same really old Finn.” She narrowed her eyes, but inside, she was smiling. For a moment, it felt as though they’d time traveled back to their teens.

  “Look at us now. Right back where we started.” Finn’s smile faded as he gazed into the distance.

  She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but she felt disappointed. Back then, she had so much hope for her future. It hadn’t turned out at all like she’d thought it would.

  Finn seemed completely at ease as he rested his elbows on his knees, lost in thought. “How did you do it?”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant, so she waited.

  “Wasn’t it hard being alone all those years?”

  His word stung just a little. “I wasn’t alone. I had Ella. You know, kids keep you busy.”

  He looked at her as though he could see straight through to the truth she was hiding. Annie averted her eyes. “Well, I would have preferred being blissfully in love, living happily ever after, but I wasn’t. In love, I mean. I wasn’t desperately lonely, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’d much rather be alone than with the wrong person.”

  He flinched. It was slight but enough for her to get a good read on his thoughts. Her words had struck a nerve, which she hadn’t intended. “Finn, I was talking about myself. I didn’t mean… anything.”

  A soft smile lit his eyes. “Annie, relax. I know what you meant. I also know that you’re right. It was like having chronic pain—being with the wrong person.” He smiled then drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. “What were we thinking? A New York cop and a fashion designer? Anyway, now I’m divorced. It’s not like we were happily married, but it caught me off guard. It�
�s all good. I’m making it work. This is my happy ending.”

  Annie didn’t feel happy at all for either of them.

  Finn wrinkled his face as he thought for a moment. “I’ve kind of been dreading Christmas. It’s my first one alone. All those happy shoppers bustling around with their shopping bags and lattes might just make me puke.” He laughed.

  An image flashed into Annie’s mind and brought back a memory. “Couples in candlelit restaurant windows… That used to get to me sometimes.”

  He nodded.

  She added, “But I had the good taste not to press my nose to the window glass by their tables.”

  He nodded approvingly. “Classy choice.”

  “I thought so.”

  He narrowed his eyes as if mulling over an idea. “If the kids both go to Georgina's, we’ll both be alone.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So… we could do Christmas together.”

  His words took her by surprise. “Well, I suppose it depends on what Ella and Connor decide.”

  “I'm not just talking Christmas day. Think about it. I mean, we’re friends. What are friends for? We could do Christmas things together. We could be that disgusting couple in the restaurant window. Or those annoying shoppers happily bustling about with their shopping bags! But I draw the line at lattes.”

  His infectious enthusiasm warmed Annie. “What are your views on hot chocolate? Because that would be a deal breaker for me.”

  “Oh, chocolate is essential!”

  With a growing smile, Annie said, “Good. I think we can hammer out an agreement.”

  The light, friendly moment slowly shifted into something more serious as they gazed at each other. Finn broke the silence with a quiet, “I’m glad.”

  Annie told herself it made sense. They’d catch up and get through what could otherwise be a difficult time.

  Finn’s face brightened. “If the newlyweds show up for Christmas, we can all spend it together. And if Georgina guilts them into going to her, we’ll still have each other.”