Chapter 3
That Unexpected Call in Winter
Callan
August cut the days short, but the fading winter sure as hell wasn’t a break. The farm never let up.
I’d been on the hop since I’d rolled out of bed and my bare feet had hit the icy hardwood floors.
Twelve hours later, heavier steps hauled me back to the grand old house on the hill.
The two stories of pale golden sandstone had stood watch over this greenbelt of the Coal River Valley for more than two hundred years, and setting eyes on the tall columns that anchored the narrow veranda to the dormer windows of the attic was finally my welcome home.
I didn’t rush to unlace my boots by the back door, though.
“You never listen to me!”
My sister.
“There’s no point listenin’ if you’re talkin’ crazy, Bronte!”
My mother.
She’d clip me around the ears if I called her that. When my older brother was knee-high to a grasshopper, he couldn’t quite say “Mum.” So, “Mim” she was. Even my father called her that. If he called her Sharon, she’d probably clip him around the ears, too.
“I’m not crazy!” Bronte shouted. “You can’t stop me from living my life just because you’re squawking louder than a cat stuck in a drainpipe!”
Mim snorted. “I’m not squawkin’. I’m givin’ you a nudge,” she said. “A gentle nudge.”
Fighting back a laugh, I kicked my boots off by the back door. A gentle nudge, my ass. But was I going to correct my mother? Nope. The smartest thing a man could do in this situation was to let that pair argue it out. Honestly? I’d be more worried if they weren’t fighting. Still…
The lump in my throat reminded me how much I wished my woman was there, in the kitchen, squabbling with them. But the woman taking up all the space in my head was a world away. And she wasn’t mine.
I got one foot through the kitchen doorway before two heads of red hair whipped around.
“Cal!” Bronte caught my gaze first. “Tell Mim I’m making the right decision.”
“She’s making the right decision,” I said, sidestepping the war zone to grab a cookie off the counter and shove it in my mouth. I groaned. So good. Gooey chocolate chips hot enough to singe my tongue. Must have been fresh out of the oven. I reached for another.
“Quit eatin’ those.” Mim snapped the dish towel on my rump. “And don’t you be buttin’ in if you don’t know what we’re talkin’ about.”
I’d heard this argument for the last three months. I knew. “You don’t want Bron buying a bed and breakfast,” I said. “You think she’s throwing away her nursing career.”
Mim’s freckled finger curled around her dangly koala earring. “All those years workin’ so hard!”
“It’s not a waste if I don’t want to be a nurse anymore,” Bronte insisted.
“Runnin’ a bed and breakfast isn’t like what you see in the movies. You won’t be just fluffin’ some pillows and droppin’ off a few towels. You really wanna be cleanin’ tourist poop off toilets?”
“It’s better than wiping it off their butt.” Bronte grinned. “Look, I’m not buying the old sheep station without understanding the reality. After I finish my interior decorating course—”
“I thought you were doin’ a bookkeepin’ course?”
Bronte waved off that comment. “I finished that ages ago. Right after I did that online course in product photography. I think I’ll sign up for something in hospitality management next. Oh! Or marketing.”
Mim’s hand fluttered to her chest. “Hospitality…management?” She was one online course away from having a heart attack.
Lucky for her, my peacekeeping skills were top-notch. Middle child, and all that. I wrapped my arm around Mim’s shoulders and pulled her close. She had some height on her, and despite all her wriggling, it was still easy enough to plant a kiss on her head.
“Come on, Mim,” I said. “Even you have to admit Bron’s done a great job helping me get the cottages up and running.”
“I suppose the cottages are nice…” Mim conceded reluctantly.
“Nice?” Bronte scoffed. “Five-star reviews across the board. I upgraded the settler cottages from the convict era to the kind of modern rustic charm people pay top dollar for. The reclaimed wood I integrated into the kitchens is out of this world.”
“And every cottage was delivered under budget, too,” I added.
Bronte shot our mother a satisfied grin. “See? I know what I’m doing.”
“Oh, that’s how it is, eh?” Mim’s eyes narrowed. “Gangin’ up on me? First, it was Cal tellin’ me we’re expandin’ into farmin’ tourism.” Steely blue eyes shifted to Bronte. “And now, you, throwin’ all your money at that rundown pile of bricks outside town. I miss my precious babies who adored me.”
I squeezed Mim closer to my side. “I still adore you.”
Bronte snorted. “Suck up.”
Grinning, I edged my hand around Mim’s slim hips to sneak a fresh attack at the cookies. Maybe she wouldn’t notice—
Snap.
The dish towel whipped against my legs.
“You’re not spoilin’ your dinner,” Mim said, “You go wash up properly—”
A chime cut in from the counter. The tablet propped against the stand mixer lit up.
Bronte scrambled off the stool. “It’s Erin!” She jabbed at the screen to start the video call.
“Oh!” Mim frantically brushed off the flour splattered over her apron. “Erin! I hope my little Til is still up to say hello!”
Mim and Bronte crowded around the tablet. Hovering in the background was my preferred spot. I plowed an unsteady hand through my hair, trying to neaten it up. Why hadn’t I headed straight for the shower when I got off work? I should’ve ignored those cookies. I should’ve—
Every thought in my head vanished when Erin’s face brightened the screen. The hammering in my chest made it hard to breathe. I forgot how to smile.
There’s my girl…
“Hi, everyone!” Erin waved, her dark eyes scanning each face, her grin fading when she got to the end too quickly.
I knew that feeling.
No matter how many video calls or birthdays passed, the empty space never got easier to see.
My brother, Cole, had lost Lila to breast cancer three years ago.
Two months later, he’d left, too. The argument between him and my father had been brewing longer.
Maybe since we were boys. I hadn’t heard the words that finally kicked off the fight, but by the time I’d sprinted across the field and stepped in to block the punches already flying, the damage had been done.
“Our Lord above cursed me the day you were born first,” Dad had shouted at Cole.
Life was never the same after that.
Cole had dumped a few bags in the back of his truck and disappeared in the dead of night.
Dad rarely came up to the house anymore.
He pottered around the fields. He nodded a hello to me and frowned at the blueberry bushes I was cultivating alongside the strawberries that had grown here for generations, but he never said much.
His pride had convinced him he’d find a way to apologize to Cole at the bottom of a whisky bottle.
Mim still said, “Your brother will be back when he’s ready,” but I’d faced reality a long time ago.
Cole wasn’t coming back.
Mim’s elbow digging into my ribs dragged my attention out of the past and back to the screen. “You didn’t say hello, Cal!”
My lips stretched into some sort of smile. I nodded in acknowledgement. Being cool and funny around Erin was a lot easier over messages. How was a man supposed to remember words when those gorgeous brown eyes were staring straight at him?
“It feels like forever since we talked.” Mim shuffled over to hog more of the screen. “Where’s Til? Is she still up to say hello to her Mim?” She speared glares at Bronte and me over her shoulder. “Lord knows that precious little darlin’ is the closest I’ll ever get to havin’ my own grandbaby.”
Erin ducked her head to muffle a laugh. “She’s finally fallen asleep after reading Spot Goes to the Swimming Pool for the third time.”
“She’s still lovin’ the pop-up books?”
“Obsessed.”
“I’m makin’ notes for Christmas.”
“So,” Bronte interrupted. “I suppose you’re calling for him?” She jerked her head in my direction.
“Yeah.” Erin’s eyes found me hiding in the background. “Can I steal you for a couple of minutes?”
I wanted her to steal me forever. “Yup” is what I said out loud, though.
Bronte snatched the tablet before Mim could get her hands on it. “Run!” She shoved it at me.
I didn’t. Holding it above my head was enough to keep it out of reach from those two. “I’m just heading somewhere quiet”—I grinned up at the screen—“and out of the earshot of mothers.”
“I won’t listen!” Mim called.
“I reckon you might try!” I shouted back.
I headed past the living room. The fussy sofas with too many pillows should’ve felt comfortable, but the room was built for a family, not just me. I rarely sat in there. Instead, I walked the long corridor to the old servants’ quarters. My room was at the end.
Erin tipped her head and gave me one of her magic smiles. “Just finished for the day?”
“Yup. I walked off the fields and into an argument.”
“Mim’s still giving Bron a hard time about buying the old sheep station?”
“Got it in one.”
“How long until the contract settles?”
“A week or so, I think.”
“Want me to have a quiet word with Mim?”
“Have a loud one if you think it’ll make any difference. She doesn’t listen to me.” I propped the tablet on the nightstand and parked my ass on the edge of the bed. “Alright, you’ve got me on my lonesome. What’s going on?”
Erin’s gaze darted to the side. “How do you know something’s going on?”
“Because I’ve known you since I was eleven years old… and it’s been a hell of a long time since we’ve done a video call.”
“I wanted to see a friendly face today.”
I gestured at the scars hacked into the left side of my face. “And you thought this mugshot would help?”
Erin frowned. “Cal…”