“Okay?” Calvin looked like he was ready to burst, and I tried to focus on my breathing so I didn’t abruptly end this conversation by running away or breaking something again.
“We had our buddy Sean run a full diagnostic on your car. He runs the mechanic shop in town,” Patrick continued. “He found trackers in your car. Multiple of them, actually. Nick probably installed them as a safety feature in case of theft, but that’s definitely how he found you and sent the flowers.”
I knew it was true. I already knew he obviously knew where I was. But to hear it confirmed in so many words sent a chill down my spine. This time I lost the battle to control my breathing and rushed inside to get my bag, despite the pleas coming from Calvin. I would apologize to Trixie later for missing supper. I needed to get to where I could breathe.
“Fuck.” I bristled, furiously pulling the hat off my head and running my fingers through my hair before putting it on backward.
I was failing. I was failing my family, I was failing our business, and I was failing Stella. I promised her we’d find who did this to her car, and although we did, it was ultimately my fault, and I worried the other information we gave her just made things worse.
Valerie.I couldn’t fucking believe it. I knew she had a flair for the dramatic, but to go this far seemed so unlike the Val I thought I knew. I couldn’t stop thinking about her comment, either.It wasn’t my fault!Although she admitted to the physical act of spray-painting, she kept screaming those words over and over, but refused to tell Patrick anymore. I couldn’t figure out if that was just her way of trying to blame someone else for her own mess yet again, or if someone else truly was involved.
Carter also hadn’t been at work this week, but when I asked Mom, she said she had already pre-approved this vacation time for him weeks ago. Although I believed her, something still wasn’t sitting right with me about him.
“You know no part of this is your fault, right?” Patrick must have recognized the look on my face. You couldn’t be friends with someone for over three decades and not be able to read their features better than your own.
“Valerie spray-painted her car, man. She probably did it because I brushed her off and walked Stella home.Howis any part of thatnotmy fault?” I asked him, my voice rising with every word I hurdled his way.
“Maybe the part where you don’t control or hold responsibility for other people’s actions,” he said in a tone that stood no chance to argue with.
I sighed in defeat, knowing he was right. “The Johnstons cancelled their order.” Honestly, I think that was my biggest stressor now, and it was making everything else feel so much harder and unmanageable.
“What?” Patrick demanded, shock lining his features.
I nodded. I didn’t know another way to say it. My crew and I had spent the last three weeks cutting down trees and processing the wood into usable lumber, only to have the entire order cancelled a week before we finished. This was a hugeorder, too, and although Mom made sure to withhold their deposit, it didn’t even stand a snowball’s chance in hell for the amount of wood we’d take a loss on unless we could find someone else to sell it to.
Patrick deflated, and I could see the gears turning in his head. He and I were so similar in the sense that we always wanted to fix other people’s problems, something about them seemed to be easier to manage than our own. He was a rule stickler as the chief of police, but he took his job to protect and serve with utmost seriousness.
“That’s shitty, man, but Thanksgiving is coming up soon, and you know the town is going to all pitch in for the bonfire.”
I felt a bit of relief. I couldn’t believe I had almost forgotten about it. With harvest just about to wrap up and Thanksgivingright around the corner, the whole town would get together for our annual Harvest Bonfire. What started out as the town residents getting together after they burned their old crops slowly changed over the years as practices evolved from burning crops to tilling them. Better for the environment and all that. But Love was nothing if not a fan of our traditions. Thanks to Grandma Trixie and Grandpa Calvin, we still had a bonfire—it just looked a bit different.
Now, everyone from town would come to our land, each bringing some sort of Thanksgiving dish while Grandma cooked a dozen turkeys. A band played while the logs burned, and we all gathered around the fire, eating and sharing stories of the summer. And as the fire died down, we’d set off fireworks to signify the end of a season and the start of a new one. The tradition was bigger than anything we did on New Year’s, and I loved it.
An honest smile lit my face while I thought of it, and Patrick slapped my back. “There we go. See? Everything is going to work out just fine.”
“Hey, Ma,” I greeted as I walked into the office.
Her head was hanging low in her hands, and the sight broke me, but I had an inkling of hope after my conversation with Patrick and some new ideas to go with it. I was determined to share those with my mom as I bent down to kiss her head, wrapping my arms around her shoulders from behind her chair.
“Hi, baby,” she said, bringing her hands up to rub my arms as I hugged her. I may be the oldest child of our trio, but Momalways called me her baby. I secretly hoped she always would. She tried to smile but it didn’t reach her red-rimmed eyes.
“What do you say we go even bigger with the Harvest Bonfire this year?” I asked with a big smile on my face.
“Bigger? What do you mean?” Curiosity coloured her expression, and although it wasn’t hope, I would take that over the defeated look she had when I walked in.
“Well, I was thinking…what if we got in touch with Gloria, and asked if the farmers’ market wanted to set up here, too? We could rent out space for tables and make it more of an event.”
That did it. There was that spark of hope in her eyes that I knew as fact truer than I knew the sky was blue. My mom was a dreamer and a fighter, never letting the feeling of defeat set her off course for too long.
We spent the next few minutes volleying ideas back and forth, and by the time I left, I felt successful having brought my mom’s spirits up.
As much as I was doing this for my family, Stella was also in the forefront of my mind with every suggestion I made. I was worried that some of the experiences during her time here were clouding her view of our small town, and I wanted to clear the sky for her and show her how bright and beautiful life could be in Love.
The bell chimed as I pulled open the door of the post office and barrelled inside, instantly feeling the safety and security of these four walls. The love emanating from the gorgeous wedding photos forced me to focus on what was directly in front of me and calm my breathing.
“Why, Miss Stella. What could be the matter?” The cheery voice of the round old man who reminded me so much of my own grandfather brought me back into my body.
I ignored his question and pointed at the pictures on the wall. “How come the photos just kind of…stop?” Looking at them was interesting. There were dates on the invitations that went all the way back to the 1960s. There were multiple weddings every month of every year for what looked to be decades, until about the 2010s when the photos became a little more sporadic, fewer weddings and longer time spans between the invitations.
