Chapter Forty-Five
Nora
The helicopter blades chopped the mountain quiet into jagged pieces.
As the engine cut, the silence that rushed in was so absolute it made my ears ache.
Pine needles were still spinning in the fading downdraft while the grass was flattened into a perfect, subservient circle.
We had come loud, too loud. We arrived the way the Hollistons and Burkes had arrived in Firebrook Valley decades ago, with money, machines, and the cold certainty that the valley would bend to our will.
I felt the wrongness of it vibrating in my marrow as I unbuckled and stepped down. Coming here on a horse had felt like a pilgrimage, but coming here in a chopper felt like a raid. I looked at Evan and could tell by the tight set of his jaw that he felt it too.
Evie was waiting on the porch with her arms folded over her chest. Her long braid was a streak of winter silver. She offered no welcome. Instead, she watched us with a patience that looked worn dangerously thin.
“The birds won’t be back for three days,” she said, her voice as dry as parchment. “I hope your questions are worth the quiet I have lost.”
Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared into the house again.
We worked first, honoring the unspoken law of visiting her.
We placed the wooden planters near her garden and filled them with the bags of soil we had brought.
Evie liked to grow things, so we brought her beautiful, edible flowers.
We planted them where she could see them from her window and easily pick them from her path.
Evie returned and looked over our offerings. She shook her head once and waved for us to follow her inside.
The cabin smelled of sage smoke, dried lemon rind, and the faint, sharp copper tang of her brewing pots. A heavy cast-iron kettle hissed on the woodstove. Five mismatched mugs sat waiting on the scarred oak table. Evie turned her back to us, reaching for a tin of dried herbs on the high shelf.
Taking advantage of the opening, I nudged Evan. My elbow caught his ribs, and I inclined my head toward the open roll-top desk. Evan followed my gaze, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the stack of old, curling photographs.
“My mom must have brought her photos of us,” I whispered.
Evie turned back toward us. “Sit.”
We sat. Our knees bumped under the small table, a tangle of Burkes and Hollistons trying to fit into a space built for one.
Evan’s thigh pressed against mine. He was steady and grounding, a silent reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.
I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic mug and looked at her.
“Evie,” I said with a grateful smile. “I took your advice and talked to my father. You were right. He’s scared of losing me.”
She lifted one silver brow. “I didn’t give advice, Nora.”
“Well, whatever you want to call what you said to me, it helped.” I cleared my throat. “Which is why we’re here.”
Evie studied me for a long beat. “I told you that I am not an oracle,” she said, her voice flat and final.
“I am not a healer. I do not see the future, and I do not mend what’s broken inside of people.
I make tonics from mountain water, and against my will I listen to people’s problems when they bring them here.
That’s all. If you came here expecting me to have answers for you, you’re going to be disappointed. ”
A heavy silence settled over us. Evan was the one to break it, his voice low and respectful. “We didn’t come for magic, Evie. We came because we’re stuck. All of us.”
“Everyone is stuck, Evan.” Evie took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea. “That’s what life is. A series of places to get stuck.”
“But we want to be unstuck,” Brady cut in, leaning forward. “Specifically, about this wedding.”
Evie’s gaze dropped to our hands, catching the sapphire glinting on my finger and the gold band on Evan’s. “Whose wedding?”
“Ours,” I said, my thumb brushing the stone. “Evan’s and mine. We want to get married in the valley with both our families there. No drama. We want everyone.”
She looked at the rings and then at us. Finally, she looked at the rafters as if asking the house itself for a measure of patience. “And you think I can fix your fathers? You think I have a tonic for thirty years of pride?”
“We think you might know what started their feud,” Drew said quietly. “We think you might know the one thing they’re both too afraid to say out loud.”
Evie set her mug down with a soft thud. “I don’t hand out another person’s secrets like candy.”
“Please,” Bella whispered. The word was raw, a rare crack in her usually impenetrable composure. “We just want to be able to gather as a family.”
Evie looked at each of us in turn, her gaze lingering on Brady last. He had not blinked since we sat down. She let out a long, weathered sigh.
“Fine,” she said at last. “I will say this once, and then you will leave my home. Sometimes, if you’re looking for the reason a house is falling down, you have to stop looking at the roof and start looking at the foundation. You have to go back to the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?” Brady asked.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “The beginning of them.”
Evan’s hand found mine under the table, his grip tightening just enough to steady me.
When I glanced at him, he gave a small, certain nod.
Whatever this was, we were walking into it together.
Across from us, Drew straightened while Bella lifted her chin and Brady leaned in like he was at a psychic reading and believing every word of it.
Just above a whisper, I said, “Mabel asked us to tell you that she hopes you’re doing okay.”
Evie closed her eyes briefly.
We waited. The woodstove popped. The wind sighed against the glass.
“I can give you a name,” she said, staring me down. “But that’s the end of my charity.”
My heart kicked against my ribs, a frantic and rhythmic warning.
“If you want to know what this feud is truly about,” Evie continued, her voice dropping to a low, haunting frequency, “go find Thomas Steele.”
The name dropped like a lead weight onto a frozen lake. I felt the air leave my lungs. Beside me, Evan went very still. A cold awareness slid through me, sharp and certain. Thomas Steele?
“I’ve never heard that name,” Drew said, his brow furrowing.
Bella agreed. “Nor have I and I know all of Dad’s business contacts.”
Evie nodded as if she had expected nothing less. “There was a time, a long time ago, when your fathers were not enemies. They were a trio. Inseparable. Gabe Holliston, Cody Burke, and Thomas Steele. They went through college together and were the best of friends.”
The words were impossible. I tried to picture my father and Gabe, the two lions of the valley, sharing a laugh and a life.
I couldn’t. “My mother met my father at college,” I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.
I looked at Evan with my eyes wide. “Evie, is the feud about my mother? Did Celia date Gabe Holliston first? Is this a thirty-year grudge over my mother?”
Evie looked at me, really looked at me, and a flash of something like pity moved across her face. “I’m not saying another word.”
The silence stretched until it was painful. Then Evie stood. She pushed her chair in with a decisive scrape and walked to the door, pulling it open.
“Leave,” she said. She wasn’t angry; she was just done.
We rose as one. I paused at the threshold, looking back at the woman who lived among the clouds and kept the secrets of the earth. “Thank you,” I said. “For the name. For listening. For everything.”
Evie nodded once, her expression unreadable. “Do not come back, Nora. And tell that pilot to be more careful with people’s grass.”
The door closed with a soft, final click.
Outside, the helicopter waited, sleek and silent, looking more alien than ever against the ancient pines. We walked down the path toward our ride home.
It hadn’t been a wasted trip. We might not have the answers we’d hoped for, but we had a name: Thomas Steele.