Chapter 17 Nora
NORA
Nora thought she heard something downstairs that night just as she was heading to bed.
She figured it was probably just River headed back to his place, but she decided to check on the kittens, just in case. In this cold, it would be bad if one of them figured out how to get out and wound up alone.
But when she got downstairs, the kittens were sleeping happily in a pile in the crate, and River’s coat was gone from the hook by the back door.
She was about to head back upstairs, figuring she had just heard the wind rattling the windowpanes. But before she could, there was a beep and a buzz from the kitchen.
She turned to find River’s phone charging at the outlet on the counter. He must have forgotten it. Frowning, she headed over to grab it.
The screen showed a local weather warning, which must have caused the buzz. She looked out the window at the snowy night. The weather out there was definitely dangerous.
He shouldn’t be without his phone overnight. What if his parents have an emergency or something?
She headed to the door, pulled on her coat, and sank her feet into her boots. The kids would be fine for a few minutes. River’s cottage was practically right next to the house. It was like getting something from the car.
The wind was strong and bitterly cold—it almost pushed the door shut on her as she stepped outside. Heavy snowflakes filled the air, shimmering as they slanted down in the porch light.
“Wow,” she murmured to herself.
The cottage was right there. She knew it shouldn’t be a big deal to pop over there, even in the wind and snow, but she felt a bit like an explorer at the north pole anyway as she trudged down the porch steps and onto the lawn.
The path of footprints River had made when he left was already disappearing. Nora leaned into the wind, putting her head down to keep the flakes from hitting her eyes.
At last, she reached the porch of the cottage.
From the house, the cottage looked charming. But up close, she could see the paint peeling in curls and feel how soft the boards of the porch were under her feet.
She knocked on the door and heard footsteps right away.
“Nora,” River murmured as he opened the door.
He looked sleepy, but handsome, and the savory scent of a wood fire wafted toward her.
But Nora just pushed past him, unable to believe her eyes.
A shaft of moonlight pierced the roof, and snow fell onto the rug below, accumulating in spite of the glow of the wood stove.
“River,” she murmured, looking around.
There wasn’t a bit of furniture in the cottage. River seemed to have a camping cot set up against one wall, a jug of water, and a duffel bag of clothing.
The walls were cracked, plaster falling away in some sections to reveal the wood lathe and horsehair beneath.
“It’s fine,” he said flatly. “There was a tarp on the roof, but it must have blown off in the wind. I was just heading out to replace it.”
“You’ve been staying out here?” she murmured.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ve got everything I need.”
“It’s freezing,” she realized out loud, her heart breaking at the idea of anyone spending Christmas like this.
“Oh, I’m a country boy,” he said with a smile. “And I’ve got a fire. This doesn’t bother me.”
“You’re not sleeping out here anymore,” she told him firmly. “You’re coming back to the house right now.”
“Well, I need to put the tarp back up,” he said.
“In this storm?” she said. “No way. It’s windy and slippery up there. You can deal with it when the snow stops.”
“It’ll do more damage,” he said, frowning as if there was any way to actually make the place worse.
“Are you so attached to that rug?” she asked him. “We can tarp it instead, if you want.”
They both looked over at the faded rag rug. It was moth-eaten, and probably older than both of them put together.
After a moment, River’s warm chuckle broke the silence.
“Fine,” he said with a smile. “I’ll deal with it later.”
“And you’ll come stay in the house,” she said.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re tougher than you look?” he teased her.
“There’s a first time for everything,” she said lightly. “Now get your stuff and let’s get out of here. This is ridiculous.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, jogging over to grab his duffel.
The walk back to the farmhouse felt less dangerous than the walk to the cottage.
It’s because River is with me…
When they got inside, he headed upstairs to put his stuff away, and Nora decided she would start their tea this time.
By the time he got back down, the kettle was whistling.
“Perfect timing,” she told him, grabbing their favorite mugs.
He grinned at her and sat down at the table, looking genuinely happy. She fixed their tea and brought it over, placing his in front of him before taking a seat herself.
“Why were you staying out there?” she asked him.
“I know the kids aren’t used to having a man around the house,” he said. “And they barely knew me. I figured it was better for you to have the place to yourselves.”
“Maybe for a night,” she allowed. “But they know you now. And this is no kind of weather for camping out. Why didn’t you move back into the house?”
He looked down at his tea, watching the steam for a moment before he answered her.
“I’ve had a hard time since I got home,” he said, his eyes still not meeting hers. “It can be hard for me to have a lot of… social interactions, I guess.”
She nodded, instantly feeling like an idiot for not thinking about it.
“I’m so sorry,” she said after a moment. “I’ve been so focused on all the adjustments the kids are going through. But you’re going through a big one too.”
“This farm is everything I ever wanted,” he said quickly. “And I’m glad to be home, obviously. I know how lucky I am.”
She nodded, knowing that all those things could be true, and he could still be in pain.
“But I saw some things, being away,” he said softly, then cleared his throat. “It’s just going to be a while before I feel a hundred percent like myself again, that’s all. Makes it hard to bump into people in town and do small talk.”
“I’m so sorry, River,” Nora said, realizing that he’d been doing just that for them every day. “Now we’re here, and you’re forced into being with us all day long. It isn’t right—”
“No,” he said firmly, stopping her from going on. “I don’t feel that way around you and the kids. At all.”
His dark eyes met hers at last, and she knew he was telling the truth.
“I want you to stay,” he said softly.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she let herself believe that his words were more than just an invitation to give the children a special holiday.
“Aunt Nora?” a little voice said from the staircase. “I’m thirsty.”
“Come on down, Pixie,” Nora called to her, hopping up right away and feeling silly for letting her imagination run away with her. “Let’s fix you a glass of milk.”
There was no way they could ever think about just staying on the farm after the holidays.
Could they?