Chapter 22
CAMILLE
It’s a warm late spring morning, probably the warmest day since I moved to Montana.
The sky is clear and as vivid as the blue hydrangeas that surrounded my Georgia home.
It’s beautiful, and for the first time since arriving, I’m able to get out and walk the property.
My new home has majestic views of the Rocky Mountains.
Since the chalet sits at the top of a hill, it’s also an unobstructed view.
A calm walk will do me a lot of good and help me clear my mind.
I really messed things up this time. Instead of telling Adam what happened and expressing my feelings, I shut down. I can’t blame him for leaving. I would’ve left too, after a rejection like that.
I walk along the fence line that leads to one of the small cabins along the back of the property.
If I recall, there are three or four small cabins within the treeline that were once used for hunting.
The previous owners loved hunting elk and black bear of all things.
Hunting isn’t a sport I know much about, but I can’t imagine hunting black bear is all that safe.
The ground crunches below my feet. Life hasn’t returned to the land yet, but signs of it are starting to randomly peek past the dead leaves and grass. The last of the snow melted a few weeks ago. I imagine it won’t take long for the green grass to overtake the dead vegetation littering the surface.
It takes about ten minutes to reach the treeline and locate one of the cabins.
The cabin is small with a partial wrap around porch.
The porch extends along the front and northern side.
I glance over my shoulder and immediately understand why.
Every position provides a perfect view of the mountains with only a few trees blocking the view.
When I try the door handle, I’m not surprised to find it’s unlocked. One of the first things I learned after moving here is no one outside of town ever locks their doors.
The cabin opens into a combined living, dining, and cooking space.
It’s old, filthy, and in serious need of an upgrade.
There’s one small bedroom, and an even smaller outdated bathroom.
Not a bad size for a couple, but a family would be cramped.
If I want to rent them out, it’ll take some serious work.
I head back outside and sit on the front steps. These views really are spectacular. I only wish my mood was better, so I could actually enjoy them.
Lizzy’s call yesterday completely threw me off balance and sent me into a downward spiral of self-pity and grief. I was so upset by her words it didn’t register when Adam came into the bathroom. It wasn’t until later in the day that his words—and my reaction—replayed in my mind in perfect clarity.
I couldn’t process my emotions, and I unintentionally told him I needed time. Away from him.
That isn’t what I meant, but now I can see that’s how it sounded.
I was stuck in my head, mulling over the words Lizzy said.
She was upset. Not at me, or Adam. But because she misses her dad.
Over the past two years, she’s called me often, upset and struggling to cope with her own loss.
Mark’s birthday was always the worst for her.
We’d become a crutch for each other. Every time one of us had a bad day, we leaned on the other for support.
God help us on the days we were both emotional.
On those days, we’d crawl into my bed and watch sappy movies until it dawned a new day.
We did that a lot right after the accident.
For days on end, we hid from the world—too lost and hurt to find our way out.
But we’re past that—or so I thought. Her bad days were a lot less frequent than mine, so I assumed she was doing better.
She encouraged me for months to start dating.
I thought she was crazy to think I could ever find someone I cared enough about to date.
I wasn’t the least bit interested. But that didn’t stop her from pushing me to do it.
She even supported this move. She supports my healing. And I know she supports Adam.
This will pass. It has to.
After Adam left and I calmed down, I assumed he’d come back in a few hours to work on the house. When he never showed up, I knew I really screwed things up.
Instead of writing, I spent most of the day staring out the window of my studio watching the driveway. It was like I was willing him to appear. As long as I kept my eyes on the road, he’d show up.
He never did.
I checked my phone at least a hundred times, certain he’d text me to check if I was all right. That never happened either.
At one point, I’d even convinced myself he wasn’t upset with me at all. He was just giving me space. I didn’t really say much to him. My words could’ve meant anything. I even convinced myself he didn’t hear me correctly. That he jumped to conclusions, and this was all his fault.
That had become the narrative in my mind that got me through yesterday. But as time passed and he never came back or texted me, I knew I’d been the one to put the wedge between us.
I eventually built up the courage to call him.
His crew finished for the day, and it was close to dinner time.
I figured whatever he was doing work wise, he’d be done at that point.
But his phone rang once and went straight to voicemail.
I didn’t leave a message, because I didn’t know what to say.
That was the point at which I broke down again.
I didn’t eat, and I barely slept last night.
I tried calling again this morning. Same thing. Voicemail. I desperately need to fix this between us, but I can’t do that if he won’t talk to me.
So, I did something I haven’t done in years. I called a friend.
Well, the closest thing to a friend I have these days.
But if I’m being honest with myself—which I’m really trying to do—Rachel is Adam’s friend. Not mine. She willingly agreed to meet with me tonight. She didn’t say anything that indicated she knew I upset Adam, but I’m sure she contacted him after I refused to talk over the phone.
This is a conversation I need to have face-to-face. Other than Adam, I haven’t told anyone else about Alex. I admit to being a widow, but I don’t share any details about how that came to be.
I can fix this. I know I can. I can’t lose Adam, too.
Rather than going out, Rachel agrees to come over to my house for dinner. I told her I would cook if she brought dessert. It was an easy sell.
I choose a simple dinner and make one of my favorites—chicken parmigiana with a side of pasta. It goes great with just about any red wine. It was one of Alex’s favorites. I figure it's a safe bet Rachel will like it, too.
As soon as I pull the chicken out from under the broiler, the doorbell rings.
I open the door, and she immediately pulls me into a hug. “How you doing, honey?”
Her hug surprises me, and I’m stiff under her embrace.
I should be used to it by now since everyone in Watercress Falls hugs.
I’ve been given more hugs in the past few months than I think I’ve received in my entire life.
While still surprised by the hugs, I’m grateful for them.
I relax and welcome Rachel’s hug like a long-lost friend that I’m very glad to see.
“I honestly don’t know.” I finally answer her.
She releases me and sighs before she speaks. “Well, let’s eat, drink, and talk. Whatever it is, I know we can fix it.”
“I hope you’re right. I feel like such a fool, and I don’t want to make matters worse.
I could really use some advice,” I say as I lead the way to the kitchen.
I prepared the small eat-in table in the kitchen since it’s just the two of us rather than the large dining room table. This seems more personal.
“Oh, dear Jesus. This smells wonderful.” Rachel’s jaw drops when we turn the corner. “And this kitchen is to die for. Adam really out did himself.”
“He certainly did.” I force a smile at the mention of his name. I don’t know how much she knows, and I want to make sure whatever I say doesn’t come out the wrong way.
“You have got to give me a tour after we eat.” She heads for the French door refrigerator, and I smile as she makes herself at home. I may be from the south, but I never was one for formalities. “I hope you like flan.”
“I love it.” I smile as she finds a spot in the refrigerator for her dessert.
She turns to me with her hands on her hips and wiggles her brows. “Well, let’s pour some wine, plate up this food, and figure out how to fix whatever it is that’s got you and Adam so upset.”
Once we sit down and I start explaining to Rachel what happened, my nerves calm.
I tell her everything. How he told me he loved me and how I said nothing.
I told her about the call with Lizzy and then how I clammed up afterward.
I even told her about Mark and Alex. I had to if I wanted her to understand my state of mind.
It always amazes me how much better I feel about bad situations when I talk about them. The hardest part of this conversation wasn’t telling her about Adam, but telling her about Mark and Alex. She listens quietly, only occasionally asking me questions, letting me get it all out while we eat.
When I finish, she leans back in her chair and stares at me. I can’t tell what the look means. It’s a cross between amazement and sadness.
But at least it isn’t pity.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Cami, you have got to be one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
I snort. “Hardly. Lord knows, I don’t feel strong. I’m a mess.”
Her smile grows. “You may be a mess, but you're a strong mess. I mean, how many people would pick up and move across the country to start a new life? Not many. Don’t sell yourself short, honey.”
“Thank you for saying that.” I pick up my wine glass and take a sip. Mostly to cover my face. While I appreciate her words, they still make me uncomfortable. I’ve never felt strong. “It’s encouraging and leads me to believe there’s still hope for me.”
She squeezes my hand again before she stands.
“There’s always hope.” She opens the refrigerator and takes out the flan while I get us a couple of plates and something to cut it with.
Rachel gets to work serving it up, and I sit back down.
She eyes me before she speaks again. “Have you called Adam since he left?”
I nod. “A couple times, yes. He didn’t answer, and I didn’t leave a message. His silence scares me.”
“He’s processing, but you need to try again.” She takes a bite of her flan and moans. “I know I shouldn’t brag, but this is so good.”
I chuckle as I’m savoring my own bite. “Brag away. You’ve earned that right.”
We sit in silence, eating our dessert. I ponder what she said.
I know she’s right. I’m the one in the wrong, and therefore, I need to make the effort.
As much as I want him to take the pressure off me by calling, he won’t.
He said he’d give me time, and until I tell him I’m ready, he won’t reach out. This one is all on me.
I let out a long breath. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“If he told you he loves you, then not a chance.” Rachel gives me a knowing smile that calms my nerves a bit. “That man doesn’t love easily. But he loves hard. When he gives his heart, it’s forever.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at the now empty plate in front of me. If I look up at Rachel, I’ll cry. And I did enough crying since yesterday to last me the rest of my life. “I hope you’re right. It’s only been a day, and I miss him.”
“Hey, look at me.” Rachel leans forward and takes my hand.
The second my eyes meet hers; my tears break free.
There’s so much concern and compassion in her eyes, I can’t stop my tears from falling.
I’m not used to having people in my life who simply care without telling me how I’m processing my emotions is wrong.
“You need to understand something about Adam. When that man feels, he feels with every ounce of his being. There’s no such thing as part way with him.
When he loves, it’s with everything he’s got.
That also means when he’s hurting, it's all consuming.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I’m just offering some insight into how he feels. If you love him, and I’m assuming you do, then you need to tell him. He needs to hear it.”
I nod and pick up my wine glass for strength. I take a large gulp, and the bitterness of the tannins coat my tongue. It burns a little, but it's the jolt I need to push me to take action. Tomorrow, I’ll try to reach out to Adam again and fix this misunderstanding between us.