If her home was any indication, she liked to decorate with photographs, but very few of them were of people. She favored mountains and beaches, with a few random shots of wildlife and flowers. He paused at a photograph of Catherine’s Falls. It was taken in winter. Snow was on the ground, and part of the falls was covered in ice.
And that tree ... he reached toward the picture before he realized what he was doing.
Cal joined him. “That’s a great shot. I wonder if she took it?”
Mo moved to a different picture, but his mind stayed frozen on the image. The tree that was down in that photo had fallen this past winter, sometime between Christmas and mid-January. It wasn’t there now. Hadn’t been since early February.
Bronwyn had been at Catherine’s Falls in the past six months.
Why?
“Hey.” Cal pointed to the photo. “Is that the tree that’s in my shop now?”
“Yep.” The Quinns preferred to let the forest take care of the forest, but in this case, the tree had been perched precariously against another. Mo had taken one look and made the call that it was too risky to leave it there. He’d been right in his guess that Cal would do just about anything to have that trunk for his woodwork.
“I’ll have to ask her for a copy. I’d love to have it to go with the pieces I make from the wood.”
Mo didn’t want to talk about Catherine’s Falls. He didn’t want to talk about things that had been strong and beautiful and had fallen for no obvious reason. Not that he needed to be present for this conversation. Cal was carrying it all on his own.
“I can’t decide what to make. Landry says I should chill and let the wood speak to me.”
“Did you tell her the tree is dead and can’t talk?”
Cal chortled. “What does it matter if it’s alive or dead? It’s a tree. It can’t talk regardless.”
“You know what I mean.” Mo continued to walk around the room, but his eyes were unfocused. He needed to get out of here. Being in Bronwyn’s space was messing with him. He’d spent too many years of his life falling out of love with her. Staying away from her as much as possible was best for everyone.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Why was the thought of her being in danger bringing out every protective feeling he’d ever felt toward her?
He’d assumed she hated him. She’d acted like she did. But if she hated him so much, why had she kept the rock?
A door down the hall opened, and Meredith emerged. Her smile was bright and as fake as a three-dollar bill. She needed to up her game if she wanted to convince him everything was fine.
She laced her arm through his. “Gray’s on his way, so let’s take the food out.”
So, she wanted to play. Fine. He could keep up. He followed her into the kitchen.
“Eliza, can you help me with these rolls?” Meredith handed a basket to Eliza, and she carried the bread to the dining room.
As soon as they were alone, Mo stepped in front of his sister. “Mer—”
“Not now, Mo. Please.” Her voice was firm. “We’ll talk later. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“I know, but, Mo?”
“What?”
“I won’t be able to give you all the answers.”
“Because she didn’t share?”
Meredith pinched her lips together. “It’s need to know.”
“You cannot be serious right now.”
“I can be, and I am. I love you. Always have. Always will. You’re going to have to trust me.”
