Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
I don’t need you at all.
Tessa’s hurtful words chased him from the house. Cade shoved the red barn door closed as if pine wood could keep the chant outside, but it slipped inside with him, louder than the squeak of the hinges and the horses shifting in their stalls.
She said it in the heat of her diner breakdown, her voice frail and her eyes sad. Perhaps she hadn’t meant it; perhaps she had. Either way, the sorrow burrowed deep. If she didn’t need him, why was he still here?
Ha!
She didn’t need him? Too bad, because he was already hers. From the first glance, the first word, he’d known they were soulmates. He hadn’t wanted to believe in fate, but here she was, the one thing he couldn’t fix, couldn’t finish, couldn’t walk away from.
The nine minis neighed and whinnied, excited to see him. Hard work had always been the answer for troubled thoughts, and he went for the hay bale, grabbed the pitchfork, and drove the tines deep. Heaved up a load and carried it to the first stall.
Cupcake stretched forward, ears pricked and nostrils flared.
Cade stuffed the straw into the manger built against the wall, a slanted cedar rack meant to keep food off the ground. Too much hay sagged toward the back, and he jabbed, tamping it down. The mare buried her nose in and tore mouthfuls free, scattering wisps into the bedding. One finished.
He turned back for more. Biscuit pawed the floor, impatient, and snorting when Cade dumped the hay. The gelding knocked half askew with a toss of his head.
His shoulders burned, but he welcomed it. Pain meant he was still useful. Determined, he pushed himself, working harder, faster. Sweat popped out on his forehead.
Dear, sweet Tessa. Lively Tessa. Confounding Tessa. He couldn’t erase her from his mind. The image of her beautiful face and laughing spirit imprinted itself into his brain. Feelings overwhelmed him, a desperate longing that grew even stronger after they kissed. Ahh, what a kiss it had been.
Why couldn’t he shake the eerie sensation they were destined to be together? Ever since he arrived, he’d been struck by the inevitability of her, as if fate sought the entire world for his perfect mate and traveled one hundred and forty-seven years into the future to find her.
Warmth radiated through the seat of his jeans. He rested his palm on his backside. The Christmas card seared through the denim.
Cade froze, pulse hammering. The heat spread higher. He yanked the card from his pocket. It cast a faint glow that flickered across his skin. He locked his jaw and slammed the painting of himself onto the stall railing.
Was it trying to take him home?
The card pulsed with life, like it was breathing, shining light around the barn. The shimmering cardboard beat steady, shadows swelling and shrinking with each throb.
“She still needs me. Listen to me. She does. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
The pulsing increased in tempo.
Tater Tot stamped in response. Einstein tossed his head and whinnied. Something sounded off. Not the minis’ usual noises. They knew something otherworldly was at hand.
Cade stroked the gelding’s neck. “Easy, boy.”
In the center of his chest, Cade experienced a taut tug, the same sensation he felt the day the Christmas card brought him here.
He clutched the railing, curled his fingers around it, held on tight.
The pulling sensation advanced, encompassing his ribs now, and he braced himself, grinding his boot heels into the straw, straining to stay put.
The card flared brighter.
The horses spooked in a rolling wave. First, Domino reared and smacked his hooves against the wall. Junebug banged the boards, whipping his tail around. Snickers shrieked and spun in circles. Panic shuddered down the line.
Cade dropped the fork, rushed from one stall to the other, touching them, soothing, murmuring comfort. His ragged breath fought the pulling inside him and he despaired he couldn’t calm them all. Couldn’t be enough.
The card throbbed harder, the light now blindingly bright.
“Give me one more night with her. One. Let me finish. Don’t take me like this. I need to say goodbye.”
The invisible force yanking at him ripped deeper. His knees sagged, but he managed to shove himself upright and stagger over to seize the card.
Tear it up!
He grabbed it, but the card burned his palms, and it was too hot to hold. He dropped it, and the luminous painting fluttered to the floor. How was it not bursting into flames?
“No!”
Except the damn thing was taking him whether he liked it or not, hauling him backward. If he could reach Tessa, he could stop this. He couldn’t just vanish without a goodbye, but moving his legs forward was like swimming upstream in a deluge. Cade forced one leg in front of the other.
The old barn melted into muddled colors until everything turned gray. The stalls clattered with frightened hooves.
The pull clawed at him, tearing him from ribs to spine. He bit down on a groan and leaned into it.
The door stood just ahead, and if he could get outside, if he could take three more strides across the yard, he could tell her.
The card pulsed again. The invisible hook jerked hard.
Jingle bells sounded somewhere far away. Cade staggered and slammed into a stall post.
Biscuit screamed and struck the boards.
He shoved away, stumbled on, his boots skidding through scattered hay.
The card glowed like a lighthouse beacon.
He slipped, got up again. Almost to the threshold. Fragile hope flared. He could make it. Would make it if they were meant to be.
The drag yanked him backward, and he cried out, pitching forward again, face-first.
The door loomed closer.
He could almost feel the icy air beyond it, could almost see her in the house waiting for his return. “Don’t take me like this.”
He didn’t know who he spoke to, God, the Universe, the card. Had no idea who or what was behind this overwhelming force.
The pulse brightened, beating faster, a heartbeat that wasn’t his. He slapped his palm on the door. Relief jolted through him. Just one more push, one more pull, and he’d make it.
The tugging yanked so hard his ribs felt torn apart, and he roared, shoving his weight into the door, trying to haul it open. His strength drained like sand through a sieve.
His knees buckled. The light swelled. The air whistled. The barn tore away.
And 1878 reclaimed him.
* * *
The yard was dark but for the weak glow spilling from the tack room window. She had forgotten her gloves, and her hands already stung from the cold.
“Cade?”
No answer. Not even the scruff of boots on concrete.
She pushed through the door. The overhead bulb cast shadows between the stalls, making the aisle seem as if it stretched farther than usual.
Empty.
Tessa called his name again, louder this time.
Einstein poked his head out, ears pricked forward. He nickered, the sound questioning, and extended his neck toward her.
Her pulse picked up speed. She checked each stall, peering inside. Marshmallow dozed in the corner of his, one hip cocked. Tater Tot buried his face in his hay trough. All present, all calm, but something felt out of place. Like the pause between lightning and thunder.
She tried the tack room. Bridles hung in neat rows. Saddle pads stacked on the shelf. Cade’s work gloves sat on the wooden trunk, fingers still curved like he had just pulled them off.
“This isn’t funny. If you’re trying to make a point, message received.”
The feed room next. She flicked on the light and scanned the bags and bins. A barn cat blinked at her from atop the oat barrel, annoyed at the interruption. No Cade.
She climbed the ladder to the loft, rungs creaking under her weight. Hay bales piled to the rafters, sweet-smelling in the dark. She called his name again, listening to it echo in the emptiness. Her throat burned from shouting.
Back down the ladder, movements jerky now. He must be somewhere. People didn’t just vanish. Not real people. Not her man, who was solid as the mountains, reliable as sunrise.
Did he go to the house? She sat in the kitchen. He could’ve used the back door, gone to his room. She ran across the yard, boots slipping on the frost. The kitchen door banged open under her hand.
“Cade?” She didn’t wait for an answer, moved through the house like a storm. Living room, and his bedroom empty. Bathroom, door open, no steam on the mirror. Nothing.
She even checked her own room, heat flooding her face at the presumption. But it was empty too, her unmade bed looking rumpled and alone.
Back outside.
She jogged the fence line, calling until she lost her voice. Her grandfather’s workshop, padlock still rusted shut. The old chicken coop, empty for years. Behind the compost bins.
Nothing. No one.
She followed the path to the pond, slipping on frozen mud. No footprints in the frost. No sign anyone was here since the last snow.
Panic crawled up her throat like a living thing. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, breathing hard through her nose. Think. Where else? Where would he go?
She turned in a circle, scanning the darkening landscape. The mountains rose navy blue against the purple sky. First stars appearing. She thought about the night they went skating and spied a falling star, and Cade wished to go home.
By the time she circled back to the barn, her lungs burned and her hands had gone numb. She burst through the doors, wild-eyed, hoping somehow he was there all along. That he would step out of a stall with that almost-smile and ask what all the fuss was about.
The aisle stretched empty as before. But the horses appeared different now, their ears swiveling restlessly, hooves shifting against rubber mats.
Einstein had his head thrust over his door as far as the latch allowed, nostrils flared.
He peered past her toward the door and then back to her face, pointed with his whole body like a bird dog on scent.
Tessa followed his gaze. There on the rail beside Einstein’s door.