The passage of time showed on Chief Stanley’s face. The differences were subtle, but I could see them. A little more gray in his dark hair. A few more lines around his eyes.
A twinge of nervousness hit me as he ended the call and set down his phone.
He stood and came out of his office, so I waited where I was. I couldn’t read his expression. His jaw worked the way it did when he was about to say something. He stopped in front of me and held out his hand.
“Asher. Good to see you.”
I shook his hand, relief washing away most of my nerves. “Hey, Chief. Sorry it took me so long.”
“That’s all right. I knew you’d come around. Coffee?”
“Sure.”
I followed him to the kitchen. He took out two TFD mugs and poured us both a cup of something dark that resembled coffee.
“There were some donuts in here earlier, but you know how long those last.” He gestured to an empty box on the counter.
“It’s no big deal.”
He took a seat at a table and I sat in the chair across from him.
“So I figure the one about you escaping is probably just a rumor.” There was a glint of humor in his eyes.
“Yeah, I have no clue where they got that one.”
“I’m just surprised nobody’s figured out how to work a Sasquatch sighting into it. He could have been the one to distract the guards.”
“Good point.”
“No, I’ve talked to Gram. I know the real story.”
I nodded, glad I didn’t have to go into the details. It was easier not to think about prison if I could avoid it. I dreamed about it too much already.
Chief stared into his coffee for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “You did your time, Asher. You faced the consequences. I wish things could have been different, but I’m proud of you.”
Looking away, I blew out a breath. I hadn’t expected that. He casually sipped his coffee, giving me a minute to pull myself together.
I fucking needed it.
When I thought I could speak again, I cleared my throat. “Thanks, Chief.”
“So, what’s next?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
He nodded slowly. “You know my hands are tied—”
“I know,” I said, cutting him off. I didn’t want to talk about the fact that I couldn’t be a firefighter with a felony conviction. I knew it, he knew it, we didn’t need to discuss it. “That is what it is. Nothing either of us can do about it.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t have to like it.”
“Yeah, life is like that.” I glanced down at my mug. “I’m still trying to figure things out. How are things here? What’d I miss?”
“Ah, hell. What’s it been, seven years? We had wildfires a couple of summers. Nothing that got close to town, but the smoke was bad. Obviously you know I hired the twins. Still deciding whether that was a smart move.”
I chuckled at that.
“We have a couple of new guys, and we’ve got Gavin on volunteer duty. Don’t tell him this, but he’s in the running for a career spot. I’m making him sweat it for now, though.” He grinned. “As for the rest of the town, you know how it is. Doesn’t change a whole lot. College kids come and go over on the south end. Gets a little busier in the summer with tourists in town to hike to the falls or camp in the foothills. Baileys and Havens still take shots at each other.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure. What about you?”
He shrugged. “I’m still a grumpy old bachelor. Skylar graduated high school, same year as Gavin. She still lives over in Spokane. I’m proud of her. She grew up into a beautiful young woman.”
“I’m sure she did.”
A guy I didn’t know poked his head around the wall. “Hey, Chief, we need you downstairs when you have a minute.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Sorry, I should let you get back to work.”
He stood, and I followed suit. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
“Me too. Thanks again, Chief.”
“Asher, if you need anything—a place to stay, a referral—be sure to let me know.”
“I will.”
We shook hands again and went downstairs. I got out of there quickly, before I could get caught up in a conversation with someone else. My chest was too choked with emotion. I couldn’t get over the way Chief had said he was proud of me.
Sure, I’d faced my sentence and served my time. I’d done what I had to do. But I’d come out of it a fucking mess.
And walking out of the firehouse felt like I was finally closing the door on this part of my past. Which was probably a good thing. I needed to put it behind me and move on.
But if closing a door was supposed to mean a new one opening, I had no idea how to find it, or where it would lead me when I did.
Dear Asher
Dear Asher,
My mom did it. She got married to Jack Cordero today.
It was honestly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. I cried through the entire ceremony. I’ve never seen her so happy. And the way he looks at her. God, Asher, I can’t even describe it. He loves her so much.
Neither of them wanted a big wedding, but I think they underestimated how many people they have in their lives who wanted to share that moment with them. You know my mom doesn’t have a lot of family, and none who live nearby. And Jack’s family isn’t large either.
But there’s Gram and your brothers. Shannon and Ben, and all my half-siblings and their families. Not to mention Mom’s friends from work, and the neighbors and people in town who’ve known her forever. Jack’s colleagues at the sheriff’s office.
Their “not big” wedding turned into a big deal fast.
It was beautiful, and so much fun. Mom and Jack were happy, and everyone was happy for them. Elijah looked so cute in his suit, I couldn’t stand it. Everyone had a great time.
It wasn’t too bad being at yet another wedding. I feel like I’ve been to a lot of those in the last few years. My sister and brothers have all gotten married. I went to their mom’s wedding, too. And yes, it stings a little. It’s hard to wait for my turn.
But what really made me ache was the simple fact that you weren’t there.
Every time there’s a party or a big celebration, or even sometimes when nothing special is happening at all, I find myself wandering outside or to a window. I look up at the big sky, whether the sun is shining or the stars are twinkling or it’s blanketed with clouds. And I remember that you’re looking at the same thing.
Maybe it’s cheesy, but it makes me feel a little better. I like to imagine you staring up at the same spot as I am. That even though we haven’t spoken in so long, we’re still connected.
We’re beneath the same sky.
I love you,
Grace
18
Grace
Stitch and Sip was quiet this week. Tillie and Violet were there, but Amy’s kids were sick so she’d stayed home, and Cara was still in L.A. with her mom. The rest of us sipped our drinks—without our resident bartender, it was just wine I’d brought—while we chatted and worked on our respective projects.
I was attempting a beard for Lola the pinup girl. I’d made one before, but I wanted this one to be bigger—and more obnoxious. Marlene Haven politely pretended she didn’t know what I was doing. I would have done the same for her. It was the Stitch and Sip way.
Gram sat with a lap full of knitting. I wasn’t sure what she was working on, but the colors were pretty—soft yellow, lavender, and pale blue.
“Those are nice colors,” I said, gesturing to her project.
“I thought so. It’s for your sister.”
“My sister Brynn?”
“Mm hm. She’s expecting a baby, isn’t she? I haven’t heard if she’s having a girl or a boy, but I thought these worked either way.”
“Thanks, Gram. That’s really sweet. She’ll love it.”
She smiled.
/>
“Hey, Gram. I have a question. Have you ever heard of someone named Eliza Bailey? Maybe someone from the early part of the twentieth century?”
I’d done some research. Although I hadn’t found much—no mentions of an Eliza Bailey in Tilikum—based on the style, I was fairly certain the mirror was at least a hundred years old.
“That doesn’t ring a bell.”
“What about you, Tillie? Has anyone on the Bailey side done a family tree?”
Tillie paused, her forehead creasing. “I don’t recall an Eliza Bailey. I’ve traced the family history, but that’s not a name I’ve come across.”
“Could there have been other Baileys in Tilikum? It can’t be that unique of a last name.”
“It’s possible, but not likely,” Tillie said. “A Bailey was among the founders of our town. I’d imagine anyone with that last name would have been related somehow. Why do you ask?”
“I found an old chest under the floorboards in my house. It had a silver handheld mirror in it, and the name Eliza Bailey is engraved on the back.”
“Well I’ll be,” Tillie said. “Maybe Eliza was her middle name but that’s what people called her. Records would list her first name. That might be why I’ve never heard of her.”
“Or maybe she’s a distant cousin,” Violet said. “Not someone in the direct family line.”
Tillie nodded. “True. Now you have me curious, Grace. Did you find anything else?”
“I did, actually. Anonymous love notes.”
A collective aw went around the circle.
“Are they written to Eliza?” Tillie asked.
“I think so. They’re addressed to E, but none of them are signed. They’re old. And it’s obvious from the way they’re written that it was two people who couldn’t be together for some reason. Some of them talk about meeting in secret at night, or finding a way for them to be together all the time. They’re terribly romantic.”
Tillie put a hand on her chest. “So romantic. What a lovely thing to find. I wonder who her beau was.”
“Maybe he was a Haven,” Marlene said, and all eyes snapped to her. She shrugged. “Don’t you think it’s possible?”
“Does the feud go back that far?” I asked. “From what I can tell, Eliza probably lived in the early nineteen-hundreds, before the First World War.”
“I don’t actually know when the feud started,” Marlene said. “It could be that old.”
It felt a bit strange to talk so openly about the feud with Marlene. After all, she was a Haven. By marriage, but still. She’d grown up in Tilikum; she’d always been on the Haven side.
But getting to know the Stitch and Sip ladies had taught me a lot about how things really worked here. Although the rivalry was very real, and women weren’t immune to it—case in point, I was crocheting a beard to put on Lola—the women also tended to be the ones to go around it when necessary.
“I don’t think anyone knows when it started,” Gram said. “People mostly care about who did what, and how they’re going to answer back.”
Violet rolled her eyes. “A bunch of nonsense, if you ask me.”
Gram chuckled.
I wondered what Gram really thought of the feud. Despite being a Bailey herself, as far as I knew, she’d never participated in it. When her grandsons played pranks on the Havens, she usually just rolled her eyes, and occasionally reminded them not to do anything illegal.
“Gram, were you always on the Bailey side?”
Her hands didn’t stop working. “Not exactly. When I was a girl, my family called the Bailey-Haven feud a white-man problem. In those days, we Indians had plenty of our own troubles without borrowing theirs.”
“Aren’t we supposed to say Native Americans?” Tillie asked.
Gram snorted. “You can say what you’d like, it makes no difference to me. But I’ve been an Indian my whole life. I’m too old to be bothered changing what I call myself now.”
Tillie smiled. “Fair enough.”
“As for the feud, I didn’t pay much attention to it,” Gram continued. “But then I went and married a Bailey. I knew what it meant to marry into that family. The Baileys became my people the day he put that ring on my finger. Still, the feud didn’t matter too much to us. Frank and I had bigger concerns than what the Havens were doing.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“In those days, white men didn’t marry Indian girls.”
“Wow. Were people against your marriage?”
“There was resistance on both sides. Not that Frank cared a lick about any of that.”
“He wanted to marry you no matter what?”
Her hands fell still and her mouth turned up in a smile. “Oh yes. He wouldn’t be swayed. Of course, it’s a well-known fact that Bailey men are the most stubborn creatures in existence.”
Marlene sighed. “And Haven men are right there with them.”
“No wonder this town keeps feuding,” Tillie said, shaking her head.
“Bailey men are ridiculously stubborn,” I said. “I can attest to that.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Mama Bear,” Gram said. “He’ll figure it out. Might take him longer than it should, but he’ll come around.”
I let out a sigh. “I hope so.”
“A man needs to know his mission,” Gram said. “Without that, he’s adrift. It’s why so many young men act like idiots. They haven’t found their mission yet; they don’t have anything guiding them. Some men, like Asher, find their mission early. It’s what made him so steady when you two were younger. But he doesn’t have that anymore, and he’s going to struggle until he finds it again.”
“Let me guess. He needs time?”
Gram nodded. “He does. And when that isn’t enough, he’ll need a good smack upside the head. But you’ll know when that’s necessary.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Gram. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The conversation turned to other things and I made good progress on Lola’s beard. I was going to make this one extra special.
I said goodbye to the ladies and took my tote bag out to my car. We’d ended a bit early, and there was still half an hour before closing time at the Steaming Mug. I’d left a few things in my office that I’d meant to bring with me, so I decided to pop in before I went home.
Alexa, a college student and one of my most reliable baristas, was closing tonight. Her light brown hair was in a knot on top of her head and she wore a gold hoop in her nose.
“Hey,” she said with a smile. “Just stopping in, or did you need something?”
“I just wanted to grab a few things off my desk.”
“Do you want some tea? We got more of that black currant tea that was so good.”
“That sounds great, actually. Thanks.”
I grabbed what I needed from my office and brought it to one of the empty tables.
Alexa brought my tea. “There you go.”
“Thanks.”
She went back to the front counter and I sat. I brought the tea close so I could inhale the fruity aroma.
Thinking about what Gram had said about stubborn Bailey men made me crack a smile. She wasn’t wrong. And she’d know—she’d been married to one for decades.
I remembered Grandad Bailey well. Tall, with bright blue eyes and an easy smile. He’d possessed a knack for making anything fun. Chores or projects around the house had always become a game.
He’d passed away when I was still in my teens, but he’d been as much a part of my childhood as Gram. My mom’s parents hadn’t been around, and my father’s family—if he had any—probably didn’t know I existed. But Gram and Grandad Bailey had filled that gap so completely, it had never bothered me that I didn’t have biological grandparents in my life.
A noise startled me out of my reminiscing, and I glanced up.
“Sorry.” A man lowered himself into a chair at the table next to me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I guess I was lost in thought f
or a second.”
He was striking, with short blond hair, green eyes, and bone structure that could have been sculpted from marble. His button-down shirt had the sleeves cuffed and he had tattoos almost everywhere I could see. On his forearms and hands, peeking out from his shirt collar, and running up his neck.
“Are you from around here?” he asked.
“Yeah, I am. Are you in town visiting?”
He grinned. “Is it obvious I’m an outsider? Yeah, I came to look up an old friend. Cute town.”
“I like it.”
He shifted in his chair, so he was angled toward me. “So what do you do?”
“I work here, actually. I run the shop.”
He glanced around. “It’s a nice place.”
“Thanks. What about you?”
“Family business.”
I waited for him to elaborate—family business could mean a lot of things—but he didn’t. Which struck me as a little bit odd. Was he waiting for me to ask? I couldn’t tell if he was flirting with me, or just making conversation. Either way, I didn’t particularly want to encourage him by asking questions.
“So, what do people around here do for fun?” he asked.
“You know, small-town stuff. There’s a bowling alley, and a movie theater, but it’s old and tiny. Good popcorn, though.”
“What if a guy wanted to get a drink?”
“There are a bunch of bars down by the college. Or the Mountain Goat Tavern is decent if you don’t mind sticky floors. And there’s a place called the Caboose that has a full bar.”
Nodding slowly, he held my gaze while he listened. I couldn’t place why, but he was making me a bit uncomfortable. Was it his appearance? I didn’t want to be judgy, but with all those tattoos, he was intimidating.
I wished Asher were here.
“Excellent. I’ll check those out. Thanks.”
“Sure.” Shifting away, I took a sip of my tea, trying to make it clear I was done with the conversation.
He paused for a moment and drank some of his coffee. “What if a guy wanted some company with his drink?”
“Sorry, if you’re looking for an escort,” I said, making air quotes, “I can’t help you there.”
Fighting for Us: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 2) Page 14
