29
It was three days after the fire. Three days since they’d seen each other. Three days, and Luc was likely gone forever. She’d thought he’d come and pick up his dog. Or at the very least, say good-bye, but she hadn’t heard a peep. With everything else that had happened, she’d hardly found time to sort things out, much less worry about the man.
Oh, what a lie. Worry was all she’d done. Aside from waiting tables, setting up doctor’s appointments, and finding people to help with Sammy, all she’d done was dwell.
While her life had been turned upside down in more ways than she could possibly imagine, all she could do was think about that man.
She still didn’t understand what had happened last night, with the biggest surprise coming in the form of a lawyer—Hamish’s lawyer, to be exact. He’d shown up out of the blue during last night’s shift at the Nook, to tell her that she, Abigail Merkley, was the sole owner of the Church of the Apocalyptic Faith. Well, of the land and its buildings, because she had absolutely no use for the Church itself.
It’s my mountain.
She got dizzy at the mere idea.
According to the lawyer, the land had belonged to Hamish all along. He’d started the Church in the eighties, and though Isaiah had tried to usurp the older man, he’d never gotten him to sign over the deed.
It was hers.
And then had come the realization that Isaiah probably wanted her for that reason alone. A puzzle solved.
Standing at the east-facing window, she looked out at the mountain.Hermountain.
She should feel triumph. Not this soul-deep sadness. She had saved Sammy and gotten the kids out, broken up the Church that had taken on a life of its own. What was next? Maybe she’d go to college or travel. She’d had this idea, after talking with the Child Protective Services workers, of starting a nonprofit to help people like her, who wanted to start a new life and didn’t know how.
None of it felt right, though. Not right or whole. Not the planning or the future or the mountain.
Because she didn’t, it turned out, want the mountain without the man.
When the knock came, she imagined more lawyers or police or Rory telling her to get Sammy out of his kitchen, where he’d happily set to work washing dishes the night before. She should have known when Le Dog ran to the door with a very rarewoofof excitement.
What she hadn’t pictured as she opened the door was Luc, holding a small, brown suitcase in one hand and a stack of skinny, wide books in the other.
“Oh” was all she managed to say.
“Can I come in?”
Abby didn’t move, at least not on the outside. Inside, though, her body was fizzing and bubbling, full of hope and excitement.
“What’s that?” she asked, indicating the suitcase.
“Record player. And records,” he answered. “Music.”
“Seems rather old-fashioned.”
“That’s funny, coming from you.”
Unable to stop herself, she smiled, feeling her eyebrows rise. “You think we didn’t have CDs over there?”
“You did?”
“In the Center. We listened to music. I told you Isaiah always loved music.”
“But not dancing.” After a pause: “Can I come in, Abby?”
Not quite trusting him—or maybe herself—she backed up one step and then another until he could brush past her. He put down the records and got the player set up while she looked at them.Jacques Brel, Edith Piaf—words she could barely make out, much less understand. “These all in French?”
“Bien sûr. But of course.” He pulled one from the pile, opened it up, and slid out the wide, shiny black disk. “This is how people listened to music once upon a time.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “When you were a kid?”
