Chapter 13
Thirteen
Finn did his best to put on a happy face for the kids and focus on how the puppies were adjusting to new—more—people. But as he scratched Ringo’s furry belly, his gaze and mind still darted toward the house.
And Cretia. And the laptop she was tracking down.
He didn’t need to know a lick about technology to understand the situation. As soon as Cretia got her laptop, she’d go back to work. On the road.
She probably didn’t even need her computer. Her phone would almost certainly suffice. It fit in the palm of her hand but had the ability to run her whole world.
And ruin his.
He scowled at himself and stopped scratching. Ringo barked, demanding more attention, and Finn tried hard to focus. But clearly he was feeling a little bit overdramatic.
He’d only known Cretia for a little over a week. When she left, it would not ruin his life.
His foul mood had much more to do with Justin’s delivery. It had been a nice, neighborly gesture. And Justin hadn’t known that his loan applications had been turned down and he’d run out of banks to ask.
The arrival of Cretia’s phone was just another piece of straw on the proverbial camel’s back.
“Mr. Finn!”
He looked over just as Paul jumped against Jack, pushing him to the ground. The boy already had a few grass stains on his jeans and giggled as the puppies all bounded to him, nipping at his sleeves and tugging at his pants. In a few years, this kid could be a help around the business.
All of a sudden, Joe Jr. looked up and loped toward the barn, stopping just as Cretia stepped into the sunlight.
“That cow still hates me,” she said as she scratched Joe’s ears. “But you don’t, do you, boy?”
Finn couldn’t stop his smile now as his funk melted away.
“Did you find your com-pupter?” Julia Mae called.
“I did.” Cretia’s gaze wasn’t on the little girl. Instead, she met his, a bit of hesitancy there. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make his stomach drop to the sweet-smelling grass and roll over a few times.
“When’s it going to be here?” Jack’s words were muffled by the thick black coat practically covering his face.
“It’s actually in Italy. Rustico, Italy.”
“Italy? Where’s that?” Julia Mae asked.
Jack, the older and wiser brother, set about informing his sister of the boot-shaped country across the ocean. But Finn could only hear the word Italy ringing over and over in his mind. In a flash, he saw Cretia floating down a canal in a gondola. Saw her strolling over bridges and twirling spaghetti onto a fork.
Without him.
Which was ridiculous. Because he’d never been to Italy, and he had absolutely zero intention to ever visit. It looked nice in pictures and movies, but he was bound to Prince Edward Island and this farm for life. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else—didn’t even want to. These pastures, this barn, even the old house was home. They represented roots and family and the things closest to his heart.
He loved this land. He loved when it rained and when the sun shone. He loved it in the summer and when the snow piled clear to the barn’s roof. He loved the hard work and the early mornings. He loved the sweet smell of mown grass and the warm welcome of unconditional love from the animals.
He loved the land not just because his dad had but because his dad had taught him to love it too.
And just because he liked Cretia—and liked being near her—didn’t mean that she felt the same or was interested in inviting him to tag along on her adventures.
Finn stabbed his fingers through his hair and took a shallow breath, then forced himself to let it out on a silent sigh. “Are you going to pick it up?”
“Across the ocean?” Julia Mae asked. “But that’s too far. How will we see you if you’re so far away?”
Cretia opened her arm to welcome the little girl’s hug about her waist. “Actually, I asked the delivery company to send it to the inn.”
Someone yanked a boulder off his chest, and Finn could breathe deeply again.
She looked right into his eyes. “I thought I’d stick around for another week or so.”
His smile refused to be subdued, and hers matched.
Spending another week with her was a terrible idea. Saying goodbye in a week would be even harder than it would be now. But for however long she stayed, he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Cretia finally looked down at the girl hanging on her waist. “Would you mind if I stayed with you a little longer?”
Cretia couldn’t sleep that night. She paced the confines of her room, pausing every now and then to inspect the sweet antique trinkets that lined the bookshelves or press a key on the ancient typewriter that sat on the desk. But the more she walked, the smaller the room felt.
She had to turn to the side to navigate between the foot of the bed and the desk chair. The bookcase, laden with clothbound tomes, looked like it might tumble over to box her in. Even her brand-new suitcase—identical to the one that had fallen into the harbor—blocked her path.
All the elements that had made the room so homey before now made it feel too small, too cluttered, too much .
Her skin itched, tighter than it should be. Her heart thudded so loudly that she feared it would keep Marie and her family awake.
Wringing her hands in the hem of her pajama shirt, she tried not to let her mind wander to the what-ifs. But there were so many of them. Chief among them, what if she’d made the wrong decision?
Maybe she should have gone to Italy.
And never see Finn again?
Her lungs seized at the very thought, and she coughed to force air in.
She barely knew the guy. He was not why she had decided to stay.
He was ... a perk.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
Shaking her head, she slammed her hands on her hips and stared at the ceiling. Even with the light from the bedside lamp, the corners were shrouded in shadows, and she wanted to fall into them. Just to disappear for a little while.
It wasn’t too late for Italy.
Snatching her phone from its spot on the nightstand, she thanked God that the customer support had gotten her online. She opened her favorite travel app and started a search for flights to Europe, leaving from Charlottetown in the morning.
Before she could see her options, a bar across the top of her phone popped up. A call. From Finn. The phone vibrated in her hand, on silent mode since earlier that evening.
She froze. It was nearly midnight. He couldn’t know she was still awake. Unless he was standing outside her window and saw her light was on.
But that only happened in rom-coms.
Her stomach swooped. Maybe something was wrong. But he wouldn’t call her . He had an island full of trusted friends and family.
The phone shook again.
With a deep breath, she hit the green button. “Hello?”
“Hey, did I wake you?”
“No. Is something wrong?”
His chuckle was low, quieter than usual. “Not at all. I just thought you might want to know that Bella’s making good use of your whelping box.”
“She’s having her puppies?” Cretia started on a shriek and then quickly dropped her volume to a whisper. “Are you sure?”
“It’s going to be tonight. Would you like to come over and see?”
“Yes!”
“See you soon,” he said, a smile in his voice. He hung up before she could think better of her decision.
She should be booking a flight. But Bella’s puppies were part of the reason she’d decided to stay in the first place. There would be another flight in a day or two. She’d call the shipping service tomorrow to ask them to hold her box in Italy. She’d catch up with it soon enough.
After scrambling out of her pajamas, she threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, hopping toward the door. Her shoes were on by the time she made it down the back stairs into the kitchen, and she’d even successfully avoided the squeaky step. She tiptoed around the island and let herself out through the back door, patting the pocket of her jeans to make sure her phone was with her.
As she stepped onto the road, she paused to look up into the inky sky. The half-moon was bright and clear, the stars twinkling with joy. Somehow the night surrounded her, wrapping around her like a blanket, rolling her into its silent peace.
Cretia had a firm rule on her travels. For her own safety she didn’t walk alone at night. Anywhere. Often she’d meet up with other travelers and join them on outings. Sometimes other influencers were in the area, and they’d film together for a few days. Most of the time, she stayed in places with an active nightlife. There were always people about, so she had no problem taking a walk to the local gelato place or a famed pub after dark.
North Rustico wasn’t one of those places. It was quiet. Only the gentle splash of the water in the harbor broke the silence, the occasional creak of one of the lobster boats tugging on its moorings. Houses were dark, leaving just the sparse streetlights and the old-time iron lamps along the boardwalk to show the way.
Every safety measure she’d forced into habit warned that she should go back inside. She waited for the pounding of her heart or the clipped breathing that always accompanied a healthy dose of fear.
They didn’t come. This place wasn’t like those others—not just in its stillness but also in its people.
She set off at a quick clip, arms wrapped around her stomach to ward off the damp chill. But with each step she slowed down, savoring the salty smell that hung in the air and the gentle breeze that tugged on her ponytail. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the moonlight and breathed deeply.
There was something different about this place.
When she arrived at Finn’s property, light shone through a crack in the barn door. She shimmied it open far enough to slip inside, where Roberta immediately gave her a disapproving glare.
“Hello to you too,” Cretia mumbled. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep or something?”
Roberta responded with a pathetic low as though she was the one about to give birth, and Cretia turned her back, sneaking toward the birthing room.
She found Finn sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and one arm resting on a bent knee. His gaze didn’t waver from the whelping box where Bella lay on the padded flooring, snuggled against a brown felt blanket.
Cretia cleared her throat, and Finn’s head snapped in her direction. “Hey,” he whispered. “You made it. Come on in.” He patted the pillow on the floor beside him and nodded for her to sit too. “Stole these from Mom’s old outdoor wicker set. It’s long gone, but a stack of these make the floor a little more bearable for long nights.”
“Ah, now I see. You invited me over just so you wouldn’t have to be miserable by yourself all night.” She grinned as she sank to the indicated seat, her shoulder barely brushing his. “You’re probably going to put me to work too, aren’t you?”
“Well, I mean, now that you’re here, it only makes sense. I’d hate to waste your skills.”
“And you’re sure I have the requisite experience as a midwife?”
“Naw. But you’ll never know if you have natural talent unless you try.”
He’d said all that in a hushed tone, and she tried to keep her snort low too, clapping a hand over her nose and mouth to muffle it even more. With a playful nudge of her elbow against his, she smiled. “Are you sure it’ll happen tonight?”
“Mostly.”
“And you’re going to stay out here just in case?”
Finn turned toward Bella, whose heavy breathing echoed in the little room. She was restless but exhausted already, and she hadn’t even started pushing. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be alone in a time like this.”
“Good point.”
They settled into the silence, listening to Bella shift and snort as she tried to find a comfortable position. Finn got up to check on her every now and then, rubbing her head and ears and speaking softly to her. “You’re a good girl. You’re doing great.” She looked up and licked his hand, and he pushed her water bowl closer to her.
When he settled back down beside Cretia, he said, “We probably have about an hour if you want to get some rest.”
“No. I’m fine.” But her head lolled against the fleece of his jacket. “How do you know how long it will be?”
He lifted the shoulder under her ear. “Bella and I have done this a couple times. And Maisey and Serena and Sunshine and Sadie too.”
“How old were you the first time you helped?”
He paused, narrowing his gaze as he pictured a long-ago scene in this very room. “I’m not sure I was much help that first time. Or the second or third. My mom said I needed to stay in bed, but everything in the barn was way too exciting for a six-year-old. So I pulled on my coat and hat and boots and raced out here. I think I had to go back inside half a dozen times just to use the bathroom.” He chuckled at the memory. “And I eventually fell asleep before Delilah had her pups.”
“Delilah? As in Samson’s downfall?”
“Yeah, my mom was on a kick to use names from the Bible, and that litter was mostly girls. It was either going to be Delilah or Sapphira, who I think was struck dead in the book of Acts.”
“Sure, well, when that’s your other option...” Cretia chuckled. “So you missed the big event?”
“But I kept coming back. When I was in high school, I skipped out after lunch one day to be here for Sadie.”
“And your mom...?”
“Threatened to make me sleep in the barn if I ever did that again. Didn’t matter that I was a foot taller than her by then. Or that it was clear the business would be mine one day.”
“Sleeping in the barn doesn’t sound so bad.” She snuggled against his arm and pulled her jacket a little tighter, her eyes drifting shut.
“Sure. In May. With a blanket.” He tossed a soft throw across their laps and tucked it around them both, fighting off the night chill even at this time of year. “It was February. There was a foot of snow on the ground, and the barn wasn’t nearly as cozy as it is now.”
“You did that, didn’t you? Made it cozy?” She looked up in his direction, and he gave her only a grin in response. “Were you afraid your mom was really going to make you sleep out here?”
“Let’s just say that wasn’t the last time I skipped school to watch after the dogs.”
“I’m not surprised, but ... why?”
Her question wasn’t accusatory or belittling, just genuinely curious. It deserved a real answer. One he wasn’t quite sure he had handy.
“I mean, it’s clear that you love these animals, that you’re proud of them and raise them with care. I hardly see you out here cleaning stalls and pens, but they always look nearly spotless. Which means you’re probably out here before the sun comes up. And clearly, you’re willing to spend your nights out here too.” She motioned to their current predicament.
After a long pause, she angled her head to meet his gaze. “I guess it’s the same question. Why?”
“I don’t suppose I could get away with saying it’s because it’s what my father did and my grandfather before him. And his father before him. It’s in my blood and my bones.”
“You could say that. And I would know it’s part of the truth.”
Leaning his head against the wall at his back, he stared into the wooden rafters for a long second. Cretia’s body shivered, and he looked down at her. “Are you cold?”
“Uh-uh.”
He stretched his arm around her shoulders anyway, hugging her close, savoring the warmth she provided, the ability to just sit with her. She didn’t push or cajole, and she seemed to understand that he needed some time to collect his thoughts, to admit them to himself.
“I’ve always loved animals. Of all kinds. Not that I don’t like people, but animals are easier. They don’t ask for or expect anything. Just food and water and the occasional scratch on the head. You can train them—well, most of them—and teach them, and they’re all motivated by the same thing.”
“Treats.”
He chuckled. “Yes. It’s easy to know how to make them happy. It’s harder to know how to please people.”
“Like who? It seems like everyone around here loves you. I’m pretty sure Marie thinks of you as her little brother, and everyone leans on you. Is it hard to be the reliable one?”
“No. Not really. I like that they can count on me, that they call me when there’s an animal in need of a home or someone needs help moving a piano or something.” He sighed, trying to internally process what he wanted to say. But the words just slid out. “There’s an expectation that comes with that. When you’re the dependable one, people expect you to be dependable . To always show up. To make the situation better than it was.”
“Funny how that works.”
He squeezed her shoulders, and she snuggled in deeper against him.
“I guess no one has ever expected that of me,” she whispered. He wanted to know why that was, but before he could ask, she said, “What’s it like?”
“It’s good. Mostly. I’m happy to help. I like knowing that I’ve made someone else’s life easier.”
“But the rest of the time?”
He sat with that for a long time, rolling over the truth in his mind, trying to shape it into something that would make sense. To her and to himself. It was easy to feel things but a lot harder to give them a name.
“I like helping out my friends and neighbors. But sometimes I feel like I can’t ask for help.”
“I’m sure they’d be happy to give you a hand.”
He nodded. “Probably. But I also feel like I have to prove that I’m capable of running this business on my own.”
She shot him a question with her eyes.
“I took over this business a lot younger than my dad did. Everyone loved him. And...” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I guess people didn’t expect me to succeed. They thought I’d fail.” His dad thought so anyway, and had told at least one of his friends as much. The memory still twisted his insides, but he tried to shake off the feeling. “I’ve been trying for a long time to never let anyone down. To do enough that I’ll hear my dad say he’s proud of me.”
Cretia squirmed, her legs shifting before settling against his side again. Their breathing had synched up at some point, and with each of his exhales, she inhaled—give and take. Give and take.
“If I ever do hear those words, I’m terrified I’ll have reached the pinnacle, afraid of falling from the pedestal. I would have taken the business over from my dad no matter what because I love working with the dogs. But when my dad clamped me on the shoulder and told me he needed me to carry on the family legacy ... suddenly it wasn’t enough just to keep it going. Especially when...”
“When what?”
He swallowed the memory that nudged against the back of his mind. The words his dad had spoken. The fear that they might be true.
“I have to make him proud. I have to prove that I can do this on my own. I have to do something more than just keep the shingle out for my son. And what if I can’t do that?”
The rhythm of Cretia’s breathing changed, and the warm air from her nose against his neck stopped.
“I’ve made it awkward, haven’t I? That should have been inside processing.”
She reached for his hand that was draped over her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Of course not. I’m glad you told me.” With her other hand splayed across his stomach, she tapped a quick pulse. “Is that why you applied for a loan from the bank?”
Every muscle in his torso pulled taut. “You saw the letter on my desk?”
“I didn’t mean to read it. I just glanced at it. I know it was private. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”
A slow breath escaped through his teeth on a hiss. “It’s okay. Have you told anyone else?”
“Of course not.”
He closed his eyes as the muscles in his neck began to relax, blood pumping normally again. “If we could keep that between us, I’d appreciate it.”
“Yes. I won’t say anything—but why?”
He looked down to meet her gaze, the sincere question in the depths of her brown eyes. “You saw the letter. You know they turned me down.”
She nodded slowly. “What were you going to do with the money?”
“Expand. Hire some help. Add onto the barn.”
“That’s why you were so upset when Justin dropped off the wood. It was to help you expand, wasn’t it?”
He chuckled against the top of her hair, smoothing the silky strands across her crown and down her neck. “You read me too well, Cretia. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“It’s not like you try to hide what you’re feeling. Or if you do, you do a terrible job of it.”
He snorted, probably like she’d wanted him to. He was her puppet, and she knew exactly what to say to pull his strings.
Not that he was complaining.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and he tried to remember if he’d ever known anyone else who asked such direct questions and spoke such frank truth. She pulled no punches but did so with genuine care and concern.
And she did care. Otherwise she wouldn’t ask or listen without interrupting. She wouldn’t be out in a barn on a chilly night when she could be cozy in her bed at the inn.
Finally, she took a shallow breath. “I was thinking about how your dad was with you the other day, how hard he hugged you before they left. I’m not an expert or anything”—she swallowed thickly—“seeing as I never met my dad. But it’s clear to anyone who takes a glance that your dad loves you. He’s not disappointed with you at all. I didn’t even have to look hard to see the pride in his eyes. I don’t think you have to do anything or be anyone else to earn his respect. He sees you for who you are. And that’s a pretty great guy.”
He wanted to argue with her. Or maybe make her explain why she was so certain. But mostly, he wanted to know where her father was. If he was alive, how he could have missed out on being part of her life?
What an idiot.
Before he could ask, Bella let out a soft whimper, and Finn jumped to his knees beside the box, Cretia scrambling to his side.