Chapter 16
Tessa slipped on her boots and glanced through the window at the bright sunshine reflecting off the snow. After her emotional conversation with her father that morning, she needed some air.
She scribbled a quick note on the pad by the phone: “Gone for a walk. Back soon.” Her father was napping, and Beckett had disappeared to the garage after lunch.
Grabbing her coat from the hook by the door, she stepped outside, inhaling deeply as the cold air filled her lungs.
She hadn’t planned where to go, but her feet naturally turned toward town and the River Walk.
The path had been cleared of snow, making it one of the few places she could walk without trudging through knee-deep drifts.
The River Walk was quiet this afternoon. Most people were probably at work or staying indoors where it was warm. She welcomed the solitude. She needed time to process everything her father had said.
“I was trying to make you strong enough to survive in a world that hurt us both.” His words echoed in her mind as she walked alongside the rushing water of the Sweet River. All those years, she’d interpreted his pushing as disappointment when really, it had been fear.
Fear of losing her too.
She paused at a wooden bench overlooking the water and brushed off the light dusting of snow before sitting down.
The river was partially frozen along the edges, but the center still flowed, dark and swift against the white landscape.
Like life, she thought. No matter how much things freeze and seem to stop, underneath, everything keeps moving forward.
She’d spent fifteen years running from this place, convinced her father didn’t want her and didn’t care. And all that time, he’d been keeping her graduation photo beside his bed, saving every card she sent, and speaking proudly of her to anyone who would listen.
Her throat tightened. So much time they’d wasted. So many holidays and ordinary days they could have shared.
The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Beckett approaching, his tall figure bundled against the cold, his breath visible in the crisp air.
He stopped a few feet away. “Hey. Mind if I join you?”
She shook her head and moved over on the bench, making room for him.
“I saw your note and figured this is where you’d head.” He sat beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. “And Stan mentioned you two had a good talk this morning. Thought I’d check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
“He said that?” She glanced at him, surprised.
Beckett nodded, his eyes studying her face. “He said he thought you’d worked some things out. Seemed hopeful.”
“Hopeful,” she repeated softly. The word felt strange and wonderful at the same time. When was the last time she’d associated hope with her relationship with her father?
She turned toward the river again, watching the water flow beneath patches of ice. The tears she’d been holding back welled up suddenly, spilling onto her cheeks before she could stop them.
“Tessa?” Beckett’s voice was gentle with concern. “What’s wrong?”
She pulled off her glove and swiped at her face. “I’ve been so wrong about him. All these years.” Her voice caught. “I shouldn’t have left for so long. I should have tried to talk to him before all this time went by.”
“You were hurt. We all do what we need to survive when we’re hurting.”
“But fifteen years, Beckett.” She shook her head. “Fifteen years of barely speaking to my father. Coming home only when I absolutely had to. And now...” She motioned helplessly. “Now I find out he’s been proud of me all along. That he was just scared and didn’t know how to show it.”
He didn’t offer empty reassurances or tell her not to cry. He just sat with her, present and steady as she worked through her emotions.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “For suggesting I talk to him. I don’t think I would have had the courage otherwise.”
“You would have. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but you would have found your way there eventually. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
She smiled through her tears. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.”
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the river together. The sun was beginning its early winter descent, casting shadows across the snow.
She finally looked at him and smiled. “So what about you? You told me to talk to my dad as my first small thing. What will yours be?”
He looked thoughtful and tugged at the zipper of his jacket. “I’m not sure yet. There are a lot of things I could work on.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Learning to trust people again. Not assuming everyone’s going to judge me for my past. Actually believing I deserve a second chance.”
His honesty touched her. In the short time she’d known him, Beckett had shown more genuine self-awareness than most people she’d met in her entire life.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing pretty well already.”
A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Thanks.”
The sound of footsteps on the path drew their attention.
A man was approaching from the direction of town, wearing expensive boots and a heavy wool coat.
As he drew closer, Tessa recognized Walter Dobbs, the businessman who’d tried to develop condos around Lone Elk Lake, and the man Annie thought might have posted the note about Beckett.
Dobbs slowed as he spotted them, his expression hardening when his gaze fell on Beckett. It was clear from his body language that he was considering turning around to avoid them.
Before he could, Beckett stood and stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Mr. Dobbs.”
Dobbs hesitated, eyeing Beckett’s extended hand with obvious reluctance.
“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” Beckett continued, his voice calm and steady. “I’m Beckett. I’ve been living with Stan Grant for a while.”
“I know who you are,” Dobbs said stiffly, making no move to take Beckett’s hand.
She felt a surge of protectiveness. She started to stand, ready to intervene, but something in Beckett’s posture stopped her. He wasn’t backing down, but there was no aggression in his stance either.
“I wanted to thank you for the donation you made to the children’s reading program at Bookish Cafe,” Beckett said. “Annie mentioned it helped them buy a lot of new books for the kids.”
Surprise flickered across Dobbs’s face. Whatever he’d been expecting Beckett to say, it wasn’t that.
“The program needed funding, and it’s a tax write-off to me,” he said after a moment.
“Well, it made a difference,” Beckett said. “I help out with the reading sessions sometimes. The kids really enjoy the new books.”
Dobbs gave a short nod, then, after a brief hesitation, reached out and briefly shook Beckett’s hand. “Good to know.” He glanced at Tessa. “Ms. Grant. Good to see you back in town.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dobbs.”
With another nod, Dobbs continued on his way.
When he was out of earshot, Beckett turned to her and grinned, a genuine smile that transformed his usually serious face. “That’s my first small thing.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “You planned that?”
“Not exactly. But when I saw him coming, I figured it was as good a time as any to start somewhere.” He sat back down beside her. “I’m pretty sure he’s the one who left that note at the cafe.”
“That’s what Annie thought too.” She shook her head in disbelief. “And you just thanked him for a donation? I would have called him out.”
“What good would that do? He already thinks the worst of me. Confronting him would only confirm what he believes. Sometimes the best way to change someone’s mind is to show them they’re wrong, not tell them.”
She studied him, impressed by his wisdom and restraint. “That’s... remarkably mature.”
“That’s me.” He grinned. “Just a remarkably mature man. Everyone says that about me.”
She laughed. “As they should.” The sun was sinking lower, and the temperature dropping with it. She shivered slightly.
“We should head back,” he said, noticing. “It’ll be dark soon.”
They stood and brushed snow from their clothes. As they began walking back toward town, she found herself moving closer to Beckett, their arms occasionally brushing. Neither of them moved away.
“Have you decided if you’ll stay?” she asked after they’d walked in comfortable silence for a while. “After your program ends next month?”
“I don’t know. There’s work here I enjoy. People who’ve been kind.” He glanced at her. “But there are also people like Dobbs who’ll never see past what I did.”
“There are people like that everywhere,” she pointed out. “At least here, you have people who know the real you.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Will you go back to Denver?”
The question hung between them, suddenly weighted with more significance than a simple inquiry about her plans.
“I don’t know either,” she admitted. “I need to figure out what I want to do about my job. And now with my dad…” She trailed off. “I’ve been thinking maybe I could stay through Christmas… and maybe longer.”
Something like hope flickered across his face. “I’m sure Stan would like that.”
“Just Stan?” she asked, feeling suddenly brave.
He stopped walking and turned to face her. In the fading light, his eyes were serious and intent. “No,” he said quietly. “Not just Stan.”
Her heartbeat quickened. They stood there, their breath visible in the cold air between them. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. Part of her wanted him to.
Instead, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his gloved hand lingering briefly against her cheek. “We should get back,” he said, his voice low. “Your dad will be wondering where we are.”
She nodded, unable to speak past the sudden tightness in her throat. As they resumed walking, his hand found hers, warm even through their gloves. This small gesture felt like another first step toward something neither of them was ready to put a name to.
One small thing at a time, she thought. Today, she’d begun to heal her relationship with her father. She’d allowed herself to feel something other than anxiety and exhaustion.
And maybe, she’d found a reason to stay in Sweet River Falls a little longer.