Chapter 7 That Stairway Conversation in Winter
That Stairway Conversation in Winter
Callan
Mim craned her neck to peer out the kitchen window.
The valley rolled into darkness, broken only by pinpricks of light from the cottages below. Mim wasn’t worried about the guests, though. She’d declared that the couple asking for the third set of clean sheets was Bronte’s problem. Her gaze stayed fixed closer to the dam.
“Erin’s been cooped up for days,” she muttered. “Have you checked on her?”
In person? “Nope.”
I glanced at my phone, a smile tugging at my lips.
Erin
HOLULOSED
Finally. An easy round of Unscramble.
The time Erin had stumped me by scrambling the word “horticulture” had me questioning if I should hand back my degree in agricultural science.
Probably should have anyway. It was just another failed attempt to earn my father’s approval.
Nothing I did convinced him I should be in charge, certainly not going off to university to learn new ways of cultivating fruit.
Running this place was Cole’s destiny, not mine.
I was just the second-born—the pain in Dad’s ass—and that hadn’t changed when my brother left.
Callan
Dollhouse.
Erin
Matilda’s obsessed with it.
A picture dropped into my messages of Matilda grinning and holding up a furry ginger bear wearing overalls.
You’re the best xo
My eyes lingered too long on the typed kiss. Bloody hell. I bet Erin was an amazing kisser. Was I? I liked kissing, but I was out of practice. With her, I’d take it slow, lean in, touch her cheek, feel how soft her skin is—
“Who’s got you smilin’ like that?” Mim asked.
My dopey grin vanished. “Uh…” I jammed my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. “No one.” I made the mistake of looking up.
Mim’s hand was on her hip, and her pursed lips confirmed she wasn’t buying one word of my crap. “I see you textin’ like that every night.”
“Oh, um…”
“You seein’ someone?”
“No.”
“You lyin’ to me?”
“No.”
“It’s been a long time since anyone in town’s seen you talkin’ to a pretty girl.”
“Then you know I’m not lying.”
Mim’s eyes narrowed, but she turned back to the kitchen window and focused her interfering on Erin. “I worry about her and my little Til bein’ down there on their own.”
I wasn’t worried. “They’re safe,” I said.
And it was an enormous weight off my shoulders knowing Erin was within my reach—and beyond the slimy grip of her cheating bastard of a husband.
I’d caught glimpses of her around the farm.
My feet had stuck to the grass like glue seeing her snuggled up with Matilda under the old elm tree, reading picture books.
Hearing their laughter trickle through the valley from that spot reminded me of all the years she’d sat up there with Lila.
Later, I’d seen Erin rugged up on the cottage porch, sipping tea, watching Matilda leap over the grass in some kind of dance.
Erin was okay. She’d let me know if she needed anything.
Bronte wandered into the kitchen and tossed the ATV keys on the bench. “You get one guess why the couple in cottage one needs so many sheets.”
I grimaced. “I’d like you to rewind that comment and not even give me one guess.”
“Hey, if I have to see that guy’s bare ass going at it, you can suffer with me.”
“Believe me, I’m suffering.”
Bronte grinned.
Mim tore her attention away from snooping.
“You’ll be seein’ a whole lot more than that if you go through with this bed and breakfast nonsense,” she said to Bronte.
“And who’ll be tendin’ to our guests if you’re busy with this other place, eh?
Don’t you be thinkin’ I’ll be bustin’ my hot little ass. Doin’ up the cottages wasn’t my idea.”
I told Mim, “I’m going to hire someone.”
“More money out the door!” she said.
“We can afford it,” I added.
For good measure, Bronte mumbled, “More than afford it.”
“Gangin’ up on me again.” Mim, the sly old chook, shuffled closer to Bronte. “You see Erin on your way past?”
“Nah,” my sister said. “I caught up with her earlier, though. She was showing Til the new playground we installed by the farm shop. We got the toddler tick of approval. Shit! That reminds me! I’ve got to remember to update the website before summer…
” She started typing notes on her phone. “And get our pamphlets redone…”
Mim wasn’t interested in hearing any more of my good ideas for boosting tourism to the farm. She wanted to back up a step and grill for details. “What did you talk to Erin about?”
Bronte shrugged. “The weekend markets. Church. She asked about the doctor in town.”
My head snapped around. Was Erin sick? Matilda? Bloody hell, this couldn’t be a repeat of Lila’s diagnosis, could it? Pained breaths strained my chest.
“What’s wrong with her?” Mim demanded.
“I didn’t ask. That’s her business.” Bronte’s eyebrow rose. She was staring at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
Defensive, I barked back, “Nothing.”
Two sets of blue eyes narrowed on me.
I grabbed the bowl of peas. The pile wouldn’t shell itself by magic, and it was just as good an excuse as any to avoid their questioning looks. “All this gasbagging isn’t getting dinner cooked.” I pointed at the oven. “Better not forget about the ham.”
“Oh!” Mim cried. “My ham!” She practically leaped for the oven and was brushing a last lick of honey on her prized creation when a knock hit the front door. “What in the…” Her gaze flicked over her shoulder.
“I’ll get it.” Waving her back to her ham, I pushed off the stool and grabbed the dish towel to wipe my hands. “It’s probably another backpacker looking for work.”
It wasn’t.
Matilda bounced on the doormat, her excited breaths puffing misty clouds into the night air. Her flip-flops and the sparkly bomber jacket pulled over her two-piece swimsuit couldn’t be keeping her warm. It was freezing out. She adjusted her goggles and blinked up at me.
Erin bit back a sheepish smile. “Mind if Til has a swim in your tub?”
I crouched in front of Matilda. “It’s your bath time, huh?”
“Yeah!” Still bouncing, she peered around me, itching to run inside.
“Hold it, missy.” Erin pointed to the spot next to the front door. “Flip-flops off.”
Matilda scrambled to kick off her shoes. “Where go?”
“Up the stairs and—”
Matilda bolted.
“There’s no waiting for that one, is there?” I laughed.
Erin grimaced. “I couldn’t even get her to pop on her sweats. She was too excited.”
“At least she remembered her goggles.”
“They haven’t exactly been an optional accessory for bath time since she started swimming lessons.”
“You might have a future Olympian on your hands.” I grinned. “Feel free to come on up to the main house for training anytime she wants to use the tub.”
“Cal… I can’t… This is your place…”
Erin’s eyes lingered too long on the stairs.
Technically, I suppose it was my place now, but this had been Lila’s place for a long time, too.
That was what was bothering her. I didn’t know if Erin was ready to wander into the room at the end of the hallway just yet… or if she wanted to talk about it.
I nudged my shoulder into hers. “You know where the key is for the back door if you change your mind.”
“You should probably stop hiding it under the pot of mint,” she muttered, slipping off her sneakers and rearranging Matilda’s flip-flops into a neat line with the other shoes by the door.
“Mummy!” Matilda’s face poked out from the top of the stairs.
“I’m coming!” Erin called. “Hold your horses!”
“No hold!”
Mim’s voice shrieked from the kitchen, “Erin!”
Oh no.
My mother flew out in a flap of arms, and she knocked me out of the way to lock Erin in a hug, tears already streaming down her cheeks.
I cleared my throat.
Mim shot daggers at me but refused to let go of my friend. “You can quit that, Callan Joel Wolcott. I’m greetin’ my adopted fourth child,” she said. “Erin doesn’t mind me givin’ her a cuddle.”
Instinct edged me closer to Erin. “As long as it stays a cuddle,” I warned.
Mim waved me off and smiled sweetly at my girl.
“I’ve been told not to ask too many questions about why you’re here without that husband of yours.
” The caustic bite to her voice when she said “husband” wasn’t lost on me.
My mother had never warmed to that bastard, either.
“We’re so happy you’re here…for…a few weeks? ”
“Oh.” Erin’s eyes flitted to me. “Um…”
“Mim,” I hissed.
My mother smiled as if she hadn’t been caught fishing for information. “If you need someone to look after Til, you drop her off to me. That precious little darlin’ wouldn’t be worse off with more cuddles from her Mim. I picked up some good movies at the church fete we can watch.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Erin said.
“You’re not askin’. And I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t either.
That’s why I’m offerin’. You’ll find me over at the old gardener’s cottage most of the time.
Simon and I live out by the river now, you know.
We thought we’d give Cal…” Mim’s gaze drifted to my hand.
I wasn’t touching Erin, but my fingers hovered, waiting below her elbow, just in case. “Some space…”
I took a step away from Erin to put more distance between us, but there was too much emotion on my face. There must’ve been. Mim’s eyes widened. She’d caught me.
“Bron!” she called over her shoulder.
“Yeah?” came the voice from the kitchen.
“I think we might go out tonight!”
“What about the ham?” Bronte shouted back.
“Yeah, Mim.” I glared at her. “What about the ham?”
“I’m feelin’ like a steak. You gotta keep your iron up when you get to my age.” She laughed nervously. “Yeah. A big steak.” Her megawatt smile landed on Erin. “You and Til should stay for dinner. Keep Cal company.”
“Mim,” I warned through gritted teeth.
She instructed me sternly, “Take the ham out of the oven in thirty minutes,” and saved her kindness for bundling Erin in another hug. “We’ve been missin’ you. I got so used to havin’ you around the last few months before… Well…” Mim swiped a tear from her eye. “It’s good you’re home.”
Erin’s teeth buried in her lip. She was like Cole.
The grief still hung like a black lead coat on her shoulders.
On top of everything she was going through, Lila’s passing was the last thing she needed to be reminded about.
The shake rattling through her was enough for me to forget about hiding my true feelings and get my arm around her. I pulled her close to my side.
“What do you say?” I asked her gently. “Reckon Til will want to stick around for some honey-glazed ham?”
“Yeah.” Erin smiled. “She’ll work up a big appetite after doing a few laps in the tub.”
I laughed. “Get on with you then.” I nudged her toward the stairs. “You two come down when you’re done.”
And I’d avoid my mother’s misty eyes and the guilt squeezing around my heart by keeping busy.
Ham out of the oven. Dinner on the table.
Feelings in check. The hopeless beast who dreamed of coming home to Erin’s smile after a long day on the farm was caged again.
She deserved a night off without worrying about another complication.
But Mim had noticed. She knew my secret.
How long would it take before Erin realized, too?