Becky looked pleased. “Well, I’ll let you finish. When will you be back? I thought maybe we could hang out, see a movie or walk the trails or something.”
“I get back on Thursday. So Friday?”
“It’s a date.”
Becky waved out the window of her car as Tabby watched her from the porch. At least in regards to that member of Eli’s family, there was no awkwardness. Caleb and Lucas would probably be okay. But Sam? She would just have to cross that bridge when she came to it. She just hoped and prayed that Eli would be gone soon. Back to doing what he loved and not what he felt was best.
Finishing up the packing, she headed to the office to gather the few things needed for the trip. It would be her last for a while to the distributors. Mateo would take over for her come the fall, her fingers on the pulse of what made Brodie whiskey, whiskey slipping through her fingers.
She didn’t stop on the floor of her office. Rather, she continued around the next flight and came to a halt in front of her father’s office. With only a moment’s hesitation, she pushed through and circled the desk and sat down.
It was the same as it had been a couple weeks ago. Nothing had been moved, altered, packed up. But something had changed.
She had.
She had been slowly picking up the reins in her own way. Not how her dad had done it or how Maisie had done it or even as good as either of them. But she had done it and done it her way.
And the company was doing okay.
Eli had been right. She just needed to show them her passion for the product, a way only she could have created—with her own hands and taste buds.
A tear slipped out, and she brushed it away. Thinking of Eli would only bring doubts to the surface. Doubts that had crept in the moment he’d walked away. There would be a time for that, but this moment was for her. She pressed the intercom button.
“Anna?”
“Yes, Ms. Brodie.”
“While I’m gone, could you see that my office is relocated here?”
There was a pause. A moment where Tabby wondered if she was doing the right thing. If Anna would question her.
“Absolutely, Ms. Brodie. Any changes you would like made?”
“How about we discuss that when I get back?”
“Safe travels.”
…
The low baritone drifted down the hallway. Eli paused and let the mournful tones pass by, leaving loss in its wake.
Sam sang.
The last thing he wanted or needed right now was another fight or dissertation from Sam. But as his twin’s voice rose and fell on the familiar hymn, anger replaced avoidance. Sure, Eli hadn’t been home much, but really, in all these years, Sam had never seen fit to tell his brother he sang?
He pushed into the bedroom that had belonged to their parents, only to see Sam standing on the far balcony overlooking the lawn and mountains beyond.
His twin spun around, a drink in one hand and a picture of their parents in another. Anger washed away with the surprised and tortured expression on Sam’s face.
With no hesitation, Eli walked straight across the room to his twin and enveloped him in a massive hug. Sam withheld for several seconds and then wrapped his arms around him, glass and frame clinking like bells behind him.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Several back claps later, they both settled into chairs on the balcony, a fresh drink in Sam’s hand and its mate in Eli’s.
“Why didn’t you tell me you sang?”
“What? So you could beat me up about it?”
Eli smiled. “Maybe. But dude, you’re good. Did you… Did Mamma know or Dad?”
Sam took a sip and nodded. “Mamma caught me singing with her one day while outside in the garden. It became our thing. Later on, after she died, Dad stopped me and asked me about it. Said Mamma would tell him what songs each night when they went to bed. So occasionally, when he was alone in his office or out back just sitting, I would sing somewhere where he could hear me.”
A lump the size of a humpback whale formed in Eli’s throat. Sam had done all this while he’d been off taking pictures. Of what? Not his family. Not memories as precious as this.
“Don’t you say it, Eli.”
Eli’s gaze snapped to his twin. “I know I’ve been harsh on you—justifiably,” Sam said, “but I was jealous, too. You went off and did your thing. Created something for yourself, separate from Ellis Industries. And I didn’t.”
“You could have.”
Sam shook his head. “I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t fail.”
Eli understood that fear. Since their father and mother were the people they’d been and had created something from nothing and still remained the amazing people they were, failure seemed worse than anything. And yet it had never crossed his mind that he might’ve failed. His mother had supported and believed in him so wholeheartedly that he’d known he’d be fine.
“You wouldn’t have failed, Sam. And if you need to leave now to be happy and do your thing, we have your back. One hundred percent. I’m sorry. If I had known back then, if I hadn’t been so caught up in me, maybe I would have booted your ass off to wherever you needed to be faster than that stallion of yours pawing up boards in the barn.”
They let both of their confessions settle. Eventually, Sam stirred and asked, “Did you come looking for me for a reason?”
Eli finished his whiskey and nodded. If Sam needed them to move on, he would accept that wish, but he wouldn’t forget the confessions today. “Yeah, I was wondering if Mamma or Daddy had left any of our baby furniture in storage.”
Sam grinned. “You know Ruth Tate Ellis never threw anything worth a memory away.”
He hopped up, and Eli followed him to the barn south of the birthing barn. There, under careful climate control and white sheets, sat homemade cribs and rockers of all designs.
“I take it you’re here on Tabby’s behalf.”
Eli met his brother’s laughing gaze with a shush. Running his hand over some of the more intricate designs, he hoped something here would fit the picture he had of the nursery. When his eyes rested on the tree-limbed rocking horse, he knew exactly where it would go. Tan earthy lines would blend perfectly into what he envisioned for the babies.
“I suppose we should clean this out at some point.”
Eli cocked his head at Sam. “Why? Lord knows there’s enough of us left, and I’m sure someone will procreate.”
Sam shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes locked on the plank floor below his feet. “Yeah, just make sure to lock up when you’re done.”
And just like that, the awkwardness had filtered back in, only this time Eli knew he hadn’t done anything and it was all on whatever Sam was keeping a secret.
A rocking chair and two cribs later, Eli carefully loaded them into his pickup and shut the tailgate. Wiping his brow, he caught sight of Sam pacing on the far side of the birthing barn. While all the brothers looked similar, Sam and Eli carried their weight throughout their height where Lucas and Caleb were top heavy in their bulk.
Whoever Sam was arguing with on the phone had put a stiff rod up his twin’s back. It wasn’t Eli’s problem to solve. At least not yet, but once things were squared away with Tabby, he planned on locking his twin in the office with a bottle of Brodie Whiskey and a pack of playing cards until Sam came clean on his life and troubles. Even if it didn’t have anything to do with Ellis Industries, Sam was his brother, his twin.
He was here and he was an Ellis, and he was staying.
Case closed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The wheels of the plane bounced off the tarmac several times before landing and applying the brakes. Normally, Tabby said a small prayer for the safe return to ground, but this time she suspected safety existed only in the sky.
The only thing that had gotten her through the Midwest trip was the image of letting her family name down. Professionally, she was on stable, thriving ground. She’d even nailed a Skype meeting with Mr. England, reassuring him for the tenth time how select his deal was and how thrilled she was to be working with him.
Personally, she was shattered glass.
She’d fallen for the dream. The whole package. She’d forgotten the most important thing, what had driven Eli from the first.
Protectiveness.
He’d been her partner. Boosted her when needed. Encouraged her when she’d been hesitant and had taken the reins when she’d stumbled.
She didn’t doubt he cared for her, maybe even loved her, but her and the babies and Gatlinburg weren’t the focus, the drive that made him who he was.
Who are you to judge what’s in my heart?
His final words rang in her head, echoed in pain as she replayed scenes from the past few weeks. Those words had given her hope where none should exist. She’d said her piece. Set him free. She just prayed he realized she was right. That she’d judged right.
Deep down, she knew she was wrong, that her running had been as much about her fear of living up to his expectations than her fear of his regret. A sacrifice that he seemed willing to make for her.
She hadn’t thought she should accept it.
Who are you to judge what’s in my heart?
Who was she indeed? He deserved her trust that he knew his own way. And she hadn’t given it.
Tabby realized she was worthy of his faith, his belief, maybe even his love.
But it was too late.
The drive from the airport to Gatlinburg seemed to take hours rather than the forty-five minutes it typically took. Each mile alternated between fear that he was gone and fear that he’d stayed. Her brain championed one mile that she’d done the right thing, and the next mile her heart gave her brain the middle finger, ordering her to find a way to make him stay.
She knew how to make him stay. Ask him to. He would. Without hesitation. He was that good of a man.
She couldn’t.
Tabby turned onto the distillery property and bypassed the main house. She should stop and tell Lydia about the successful meeting. Despite not being actively involved with Brodie, her stepmother still loved and cared for Tabby and would celebrate anything to do with the business, as it had been the pride and joy of her late husband.
But she couldn’t face people. Not people who’d started to believe in her and Eli. Who’d smiled through their grief at the picture she and Eli had presented over the weeks. A picture of a couple. A couple who would be a family by the end of the year.
Tears pricked her eyelids, and her nose burned. She pounded the steering wheel. Stupid, stupid dream.
Her cabin came into blurry view, and she pulled up to her garage, but it didn’t open. At this point, she didn’t care. It took five minutes of deep breathing and rubbing her small stomach to get the tears and her heartache back into manageable levels.
Eli’s truck wasn’t there.
Of course it wasn’t. She’d told him to leave and he had. He would have come back and gotten his things while she was out in the Midwest. For all she knew, he was on the damn plane to some country she would have to look up on Google Earth.
Snatching her purse, she opened the door and forced one foot in front of the other. The second step of her porch was when she noticed the bag hanging on her front door.
Eli’s bag.
She stared at it, hoping if she took long enough it would tell her its reason for being there. For being a visual reminder of the missing part of her heart.
The distinct call of a warbler broke her focus. She couldn’t stand on her porch all day. Just as she couldn’t hide from Eli any more than she could chase him down and make him stay.
Five steps brought her close enough to hook the bag and lift the flap. Inside was a crudely bound book with a mock cover. Native Species of the Smokies and Their Babies.
She flipped it open, and a business card dropped to the floor. It was for Ellis Industries, the overreaching umbrella of the two corporations. And it had Eli’s name on it followed by badass chief photographer.
Her stomach plummeted. Tiny bubbles danced around, leaving her dizzy with hope and fear.
Trembling hands reached out and turned the doorknob. She carried the bag and book into the cool, hushed interior of her cabin. Eyes darted everywhere at once. Looking for another sign, a movement. Clues to what she would find. She knew so deep, nothing could shake the conviction, that there was more.
And then she spotted it. A business card on the bottom step. As she moved closer, she saw a trail of them leading up to the bedrooms. She dropped everything on the wingback chair and took each step carefully and methodically, testing her direction, allowing herself the freedom to flee for self-preservation. Only each step brought the urge to see this through. The landing showed the cards leading not to her bedroom or even to the room Eli had stowed his belongings in but to the middle bedroom.
The one she planned on making the nursery.
There on the door was a picture frame with the words, “To Be Determined.”
What was to be determined? Why the cards? Why the path? The suspense?
In her heart, she knew. Knew this was the moment. The moment she might have to choose.
Her fingers wrapped around the wrought iron handle and pushed open the door.
What appeared in front of her eyes was a completely finished, never in her wildest imagination, perfectly designed nursery. Black and white pictures adorned the pale green walls. A crib lined each side, their dark wood finish contrasting with the cool palette. As she took in the pictures, she realized they were all of mothers and their babies. Deer and fawns, baby birds in a nest. A mamma bear and her cub. Baby otters frolicking in the water.
On closer inspection, she noticed almost translucent decals adorning the walls. Only with the play of a light could you make out the forest and other animals inhabiting it. The floor was covered in a shaggy rug that depicted a brook, and in the corner sat a rocking chair the color of moss.
In the chair sat Eli.
She’d been right. He had designed the most perfect nursery anyone could have imagined.
…
Eli drank in Tabby’s expression. From the gasps and the smiles to the tears streaming down her face, he relished it. He hadn’t known what type of campaign he would launch against her heart and their future, but the timing of her trip had seemed another sign from fate. Maybe it was presumptuous for him to have done the nursery, but apparently he’d not screwed it up.
Besides, nothing was permanent except them. They would be a staple in this cabin. Raising the children…together.
He stood as slow as possible, afraid she would startle and run back downstairs, refusing to deal with what they had to deal with.
“Like it?”
Wide blue eyes rose to meet his. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. He opened his arms, and she stepped into them, her warmth seeping into his willing body. Wrapping her up, he kissed the top of her head.
“I’m not leaving, Tabby. Not now. Not ever.”
She tried to pull away, but he held her close and spoke his piece. “I’m sorry. I did it all wrong. I thought if I showed you, rather than told you, you would see that I want to be here. I want this more than anything. Resentment will not come. I had already made the decision to stay and take my career in a different direction. The life of traveling months on end, shooting nonstop, no longer drives me. I came home looking for a new passion, only I didn’t know what it was.” He pulled back and met her blurry gaze.
“You’re my new passion. This life. These babies. Working at Brodie with you, helping my family. Producing that book. That’s where my focus lies—wha
t drives me today and into the future.”
She laughed through the tears, shaking her head side to side. Eli’s world froze. Was she still rejecting him? Was this the end? His final throw of the dice had given him snake eyes?
He dropped to one knee and dug a box out of his pocket. “Will you be my new passion? My anchor through which everything revolves around?”
She dropped to the floor and squeezed his hands. “Are you sure?”
The uncertainty echoed in her words right along with the hope.
“I love you, Tabby. I think I’ve always loved you but—”
Her lips crashed down on his, and he read her answer in the fervent kisses she rained upon him. They tumbled back onto the rug and he asked, “Is that a yes?”
She pushed up off his chest. “Yes. I love you. I want to be the focus. To be your partner and help you through this next part of your life as you’ve helped me.”
He slid the ring on her finger, and she snuggled back down beside him, nestling her head into the crook of his shoulder.
“Oh, the birds.”
Eli glanced up at the translucent birds she’d noticed among the clouds and sky of the nursery ceiling. He stroked her hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers. She hummed and dropped a kiss on his cheek.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see.”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “You needed the time. Like a fine whiskey.”
She laughed. “And you?”
He turned in her arms. “I needed you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tabby smoothed the pale green ribbon sitting just below her breast as Becky tied the two ends in the back. The swell of her stomach hid most of the accent color, but it had been Eli’s mom’s favorite color, and they had tried to incorporate tributes to those missing as much as possible.
Becky hugged her from behind. “I am so glad you’re officially becoming my sister, even if I have always kinda thought of you as one.”
Tabby turned and hugged the young woman. “We are still severely outnumbered. Thank God these two,” she rubbed her belly, “will even the score a bit.”
His Reason to Stay Page 17
