She didn’t want her family to know just how miserable she was, however. She’d caused them enough worry and inconvenience. So every day she came out to her parents’ porch to sit on the swing, look out at the rolling hills that were brightening with the colors of fall, and silently cry.
Cry for Stewart, who’d deserved a chance to grow out of his misogyny and become a man worthy of the title and the badge. Cry for Sissy and Dale, who’d deserved to finish out their days together watching sunsets from the wooden rockers on their porch. And cry for herself, because she felt so aimless and purposeless andbrokenby the whole ordeal, and by the love she’d experienced and then immediately lost.
To be fair to Hunter, he hadn’t left her at the hospital without so much as a goodbye. He’d called her brother each day to ask about her progress, but he’d had to stay in Michigan for far longer than planned. Turned out, the Carlsons had left everything to him. He’d had to stick around to get the ball rolling with probate lawyers and estate planners.
He'd sent flowers the first week she’d been home. A dozen yellow roses. And the card attached had simply read:Wishing you all the best.
She’d spent a full two hours trying to determine the meaning behind the flower choice. Asking herself,Is this his way of saying he just wants to be friends?She’d worked herself into such a tizzy that by the time she’d gotten up the courage to call him to thank him for the roses, their conversation had been stilted and awkward.
Looking back, she wasn’t sure if it’d been her fault or his. Or maybe it’d been the both of them not knowing how to behave because she’d been tempted to blurt her love for him, and he’d probably been wanting to thank her for a good time and wish her a fond farewell.
Instead of either of those things, however, he’d simply assured her again that he didn’t blame her for what’d happened to the Carlsons, and she’d simply thanked him again for all he’d done for her during the most harrowing time of her life. Then the silence had stretched so tight between them that eventually she hadn’t been able to stand it. She’d said she needed to help her mother clean the kitchen. And after she’d gotten off the phone, she’d actually gone to the kitchen to mop the floor because she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of having lied to him.
And that’d been it.
It’d now been three weeks, and she’d heard nothing from him but crickets and—
“You could call him, you know.”
She looked up to find her father standing beside the porch swing. He had a glass of tea in hand and passed it to her as he sat next to her. She thanked him at the same time he used a toe to push off on the worn, wooden boards of the porch, setting the swing in motion.
The evening wind blew across her shoulder. She turned her face into it, hoping it would dry the tears pricking behind her eyes.
When she thought she could look at her father without blubbering, she asked, “Call who?” all innocent-like.
Her daddy had spent too many years as a lawman to fall for her ruse. He told her as much by giving her a look.Thelook. The one that said,Don’t piss in my boots and tell me it rained.
She gnawed on her lip and unconsciously tugged her sweatshirt away from her body before relenting. “I tried that, Daddy. I called him after he sent the flowers. But I don’t think he really wanted to talk to me.”
“No?” A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t countenance that. The whole time you were in the coma, he never left the hospital except to go home to shower. A man who’s itchin’ to bid a woman adieu doesn’t act that way.”
She’d considered that very thing and was pretty sure she’d come up with the answer. “I think he felt responsible and was sticking around to make sure I woke up. He felt guilty for leaving me when I was hurt to go after Orpheus.”
“Mmm.” Her father’s frown deepened. “But I coulda sworn…” He trailed off.
“What?” she prompted.
Instead of answering, he blurted, “Are you in love with him?”
And there they were, the words spoken right out loud.
Her throat closed up. But she managed to nod and admit hoarsely, “I reckon so, Daddy.” Being in the Blue Ridge had brought her accent back with full force. “I mean, what’s not to love? He’s brave and honorable and loyal and honest. All the things you taught me to look for in a man. And he has this way of listening with his whole body. Makes a woman feel like she’s the only person in the whole wide world. But he’s got a great big life that doesn’t include me. And he’s had a month to reach out if he wanted.”
She took a drink of tea and stared at the robin that alighted briefly on the porch railing before flittering off. The breeze smelled of fresh rain. And the sky overhead was full of unicorn colors as the sun sank behind the mountains to the west.
It’d been nice to recover at home. Nice to squirrel away in her parents’ house because Hunter had been right when he’d said the press would get her name and try to hound her. Luckily, after four weeks of going up against her daddy and the shotgun he whipped out anytime a reporter tried to come on the property, she no longer had to worry about strangers showing up to pepper her with questions she didn’t want to answer.
Which meant the quiet and the slow pace of life in the mountains were sinking in. Both afforded her too much time to think. Too much time to wonderwhat if? Too much time to mourn all she’d lost.
Hence, the daily visits to the porch swing.
“Have you heard it said that every hello is just a goodbye waiting to happen?” she mused quietly.
“Lord.” Her father made a rude noise. “That’s the most depressin’ thing I’ve ever heard.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? I mean, sometimes it’s hours or days before we say our goodbyes to someone who’s come into our life. Sometimes it’s decades. But there’s always a goodbye waiting at the end.”
He grabbed the tea glass out of her hand. “Come on, pumpkin. You need something stronger than this. And if we’re about to get into the philosophical conversation I think we’re about to get into, so do I. Let’s put on a pot of whiskey.”
