Chapter Forty-Four
Evan
We had spent the last few weeks sanding floors and hanging doors, methodically turning old bones into something solid and ours.
Nora moved through the rooms with a quiet, nesting energy as she debated curtain colors or the exact placement of the heavy oak table Mabel had gifted us.
Every time she reached for a measuring tape or brushed sawdust from her cheek, the sapphire caught the light.
It was a blue spark that reminded me that I wasn’t dreaming.
We had chosen this. We had chosen each other.
I spent the morning fixing fences because the sharp, clean tang of timothy hay and horse sweat grounded me in a way a skyscraper never could.
Nora’s Paso Finos were poetry in motion, sleek, spirited, and fine-boned, but every time I swung a leg over one, I felt like a giant trying to balance on a teacup.
I was too broad and too heavy-handed for their delicate gaits.
That was why I had finally trailered Rogue over to our farm.
He was getting up there in age and belonged with us.
He was a tank of a horse, steady and massive, with a heart that matched his stride.
He had nickered low when I unloaded him and pressed his heavy head into my chest as if to say, About time you came to your senses.
Nora had leaned against the stable door watching us with a soft, knowing smile.
She had walked over and wrapped her arms around my waist from behind with her chin resting on my shoulder.
“He fits you, Evan,” she had murmured. “Big heart and thick skin. Just like you.” I leaned back into her, feeling the solid weight of my life finally taking root in the valley.
The house was a hive of activity. Tim and Kai had arrived like a two-man rescue party. They took over the heavy repairs with a quiet efficiency while Harper, who was ever the ranch hand at heart, split his time between Cody’s barn and ours.
“You two look like you haven’t slept in a month,” Harper had said as he shooed us toward the door. “Go. Plan your empire. We have the perimeter covered.”
And we did have an empire to plan. In the quiet hours of the night over lemonade and cookies Nora, Mabel, and I had been sketching out a business venture.
Cookies and Coffee was about to expand beyond Firebrook Valley.
Not just as a restaurant; but as an investment in local communities.
We wanted to build hubs of employment and education, places where a single parent could get a second chance or a high schooler could find a quiet corner to study and apply for a scholarship to get them to the finish line.
It would take training and finding the right Mabels, but we had the resources. And a dream.
The only shadow and the only lingering storm cloud had to do with our wedding.
Nora refused to set a date, and I didn’t blame her.
She didn’t want a battlefield; she wanted a family.
I’d see her sometimes staring at a blank calendar page with her thumb tracing the sapphire ring and a faraway look in her eyes.
“I want them both there, Evan,” she had whispered one night into the crook of my neck.
It killed me that I couldn’t fix the thirty years of jagged glass between our fathers.
That was why I had called this meeting at Mabel’s.
We sat at a table in the back, away from the window.
Bella and Drew sat close with their shoulders overlapping, while Brady lounged across from them with that trademark easy grin that I now understood hid a sharp mind.
Nora sat beside me with her knee hooked over mine under the table, a constant and warm anchor.
“Nora, this is your chance. Tell them what you need,” I said gently.
She looked around, gathered her courage and said, “I don’t want to get married with only one side of the family there. I want both of our fathers. I know I’m asking for a miracle, but is there anything we can do to make this happen?”
The table went quiet. Drew rubbed the back of his neck. “Have we considered heavy sedation? Slip a little something in the pre-ceremony scotch?”
“Holograms,” Brady chipped in as he leaned back. “We project Gabe from New York and Cody from the ridge. They can shake hands virtually and never actually be within punching distance.”
Laughter rippled through us as a necessary release valve.
It was a strange, beautiful sound, the five of us laughing at the shared absurdity of our lives, the new guard making light of the old guard’s shadows.
But when it died down, the silence was heavier than before.
Nora reached out and laced her fingers through mine on the tabletop.
“We can’t joke our way through this one,” she said. Her voice was soft but carried that sunshine-maker clarity. “I don’t want to pretend this isn’t a problem, and I do not want to hide from it. I want to fix the root of it. I want to know what happened thirty years ago that started all this.”
Brady’s grin faded, replaced by something more serious.
He leaned in with his elbows on the wood.
“Nora, when you came back from the ridge, you were different. You found something with Evie that none of us can explain.” He looked at me then back at her.
“I’m a skeptic. I do not believe in tonics or oracles.
But the town does. And you are the proof.
I think we should go see her. Not on horseback, we will take the helicopter. I want to know what she knows.”
Nora looked at me with a silent question in her eyes. I squeezed her hand. Whatever she needed, I was in.
“More than one thing can be true at once,” she said slowly. “Maybe she isn’t a healer. But maybe she has the piece of the puzzle we’re missing. It is better than sitting here waiting for our fathers to change on their own.”
“I’m in,” I said.
Drew and Bella exchanged a wary look. “We don’t really do legends,” Drew admitted.
Mabel appeared then with a warm tray of chocolate chip cookies in her hands. “What legend are we talking about?” she asked.
Brady chimed in. “I suggested we all go see Evie and ask her if she knows anything that could help us understand what’s driving this feud. She used to live here in town. What do you think, Mabel? Should we go see her?”
Mabel’s expression tightened. “Evie and I were once good friends–a long time ago in what feels like another lifetime. Don’t go see her if you’re looking for a magical cure.”
Nora nodded but added, “She did talk to Mom often. So she might know things that we don’t.”
Mabel warned, “Evie’s not a gossip.”
Brady shot Mabel a charming smile. “If she was Celia’s friend, how could she resist helping her child find a way to mend her family?”
I added, “We have to try.”
Mabel wiped her hands on her apron and said, “Go then, but do something kind for her while you’re there and tell her I hope she’s doing okay.”