“Let me walk you to your room.” Carrie helped her stand, though she didn’t really need help. She was over the initial shock of her heart’s reaction to potentially losing Owen. Full recovery would take longer, if it were even possible. She blinked back tears as they stumbled toward her room.
Once they were in the apartment with the door closed behind them, Carrie spoke. “What the hell was that all about? Are you hurt? You don’t look hurt. What really happened? You can talk now, we’re alone.”
“Nothing.” To her total mortification, she burst into tears.
Carrie led her to the couch and helped her sit. She hugged Rill and patted her back until she got control of her sobs. She sniffed and blew her nose on the tissue Carrie handed her.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll make tea. Mom always says that tea helps solve the toughest problems. Tea and talk.” Seconds later, she was busy in the kitchen. Water ran and cups clattered.
Rill curled in on herself. She pulled her feet onto the seat and wrapped her arms around her legs, burying her head in her knees. She shivered with the clawed tangle of emotions tearing at her. Try as she might, she couldn’t make heads or tails of them. Like a snarled ball of yarn, the more she tugged, the worse it got. She cried until she had no tears left. She hiccupped into silence and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Carrie paused thoughtfully. “Is it Owen?”
Rill nodded and the tears started again. She cried until no tears would come.
Her brain refused to focus on anything except Owen. It replayed every moment they’d spent together. From stacking wood to the carnival to cooking meals when they were snowed in. Every moment she spent with him ran through her mind like a video montage. Each bringing fresh heartache in its wake.
Carrie went to the kitchen, came back and set a tray of tea and cookies on the end table beside Rill. “Here you go.” She snatched a crocheted blanket off the sofa and covered Rill’s shoulders. Another went over Rill’s knees. “Now,” she said, her voice firm and no nonsense. “Spill the beans. What did Owen do?”
Rill sighed. She didn’t want to talk about it. She blew her nose again. Then, unbidden, the words started flowing out.
“I don’t know what to do. I think I love Owen. But I can’t love him. I have a job in the city I have to get back to.” Her breath shuddered out noisily and she sucked in another one. Neither eased the ache in her chest. “Well, I think I have a job. Maybe I have a job. That is, I don’t know.”
“Which is it?” Carrie asked kindly. “You have a job or you don’t?”
Rill told her about the letter, and about going to see Owen for advice and then not really asking him. Instead, they sort of fought. She snorted. It was a fight; even if very few words were said, feelings were hurt on both sides.
“That’s tough,” her new friend commiserated. “Do you think he cares for you? Could he love you? He does watch you all the time. Wherever you go, he isn’t far behind.” She fiddled with a tea cup for a moment before continuing. “You need to decide what you want from life and where you want to live. Once you know what your heart wants, you can figure out where you’re going.”
Rill glared at her. Her statement was dead-on accurate.
“Don’t be like that. I was in your place not long ago. I fell for Johnathon and walked away. I was miserable until he hunted me down. Once I admitted we belonged together, it took eons to find a city where we could both find jobs. Life can, and will, work out. But not until you know what you want. Listen to your heart, my friend. It knows what it’s talking about and won’t steer you wrong.”
Chapter Thirteen
