Chapter 31
Clover Hill—Liam’s farm—is about fifteen minutes out of town, which gives me a perfect chance to talk with Amelia alone.
She’s been quiet, focusing on the drive.
We’ve passed only one other car on the otherwise empty country road.
I glance out the window, watching the snow-laden fields of Harmony Hills’ farmlands pass by.
“So I was thinking…” I start, trying to harness my thoughts, which are a swirling mess.
“Hmm?” she says, eyes on the road.
“I was thinking I might stay longer,” I say. “I have some extra vacation days to use up.”
Then I think about the hospital, and my job. What happens if I never get back to the present? Do I simply return to the emergency room, as though this bizarre time-travel thing never happened?
“What about your holiday with Austin?” Amelia asks, eyes darting my way for a moment before going back on the road.
“I’m going to tell him to go ahead without me.” I keep my tone neutral. “He’s mostly going for work, so it’s not really a proper vacation anyway.”
“Since when? I thought it was your Christmas present? Aren’t the tickets nonrefundable?”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”
Amelia shrugs, then shoots me a guilty look. “I heard you two on the phone last night. Sorry—I wasn’t eavesdropping. You were on speaker.”
“Yes, the tickets are nonrefundable.” That’s all I say, because I don’t want to discuss my ex-boyfriend, who everyone thinks is my current boyfriend, right now.
“Speaking of Austin…” My sister turns down the radio. The joyful Christmas music fades, and my shoulders tense up.
“So don’t get worked up, okay?” she starts. The tension spreads into my neck. “Don’t get worked up” pretty much guarantees I’m about to get worked up .
“Becks told me that Liam thinks you and Austin broke up. That you’re single.” Amelia keeps her gaze straight ahead, and I hope she doesn’t see my shocked—and guilty—expression.
“Oh… he does?”
“Can you tell me why he might think that, Libby?” she adds, her tone measured.
This complicates things, no question. I’m both alarmed and elated this part of our conversation didn’t stay with Liam, because it means Liam has been talking with Beckett, his best friend, about me. About my relationship status. This isn’t good. (This is good.)
“I’m not sure,” I reply, despite being quite sure why he thinks this. Because I told him—flat out—that Austin and I were over.
“Hmm, well that’s strange then.” I see Amelia sneak a glance my way in my peripheral vision.
I don’t turn to face her, and nod instead. “Definitely strange.”
“Related… what’s really going on with you and Austin?” Amelia asks. “I’m not prying, honestly. I’m just worried about you.”
This is your chance. But, what do I say? Austin and I broke up. Except it happens about nine months from now. Yes, I know I’m making zero sense, but… hey, so do you believe in time travel? Because I have a story for you, Sissy …
Right—that should go over as well as an empty stocking on Christmas morning.
“You can tell me. Whatever’s going on, it’s okay.”
I force a weak smile. “Just regular relationship stuff. You know, busy schedules, hard to find time to spend together, feeling like ships passing in the night, blah-blah-blah.”
“Isn’t that all the more reason to get on the plane to California?”
My fingernails dig into my palms, and I fail to keep the frustration from my voice.
“I want to be here right now, not getting on a plane to L.A. With Mom’s ankle, and Dad running the clinic alone.
” I pause, taking a breath. “I could help out, at the clinic. At least for a couple of weeks, until Mom’s able to get around better. ”
Amelia sighs. “Look, Libby, that’s a nice idea, and I know Mom and Dad—and me, too—we’d all be happy for you to stick around, and be here over Christmas. But I worry about what happens next.”
“What do you mean, ‘what happens next’?”
She fiddles with the radio again, first turning it up, then turning it back down. I wish she would just turn it off and answer the question. “After you leave and go back to Toronto, I mean.”
I twist in my seat to look at my sister, but a wave of nausea comes over me, and I quickly face forward again. “Just say what you’re thinking, please.”
“Fine. But you aren’t going to like it.” I note Amelia’s hands grip the steering wheel more tightly. “The clinic has been struggling, Libby. Things have been tight. More than tight, actually,” Amelia says.
“How tight, Mila?” My stomach continues to bubble with nausea, which has less to do with the car ride and more to do with finally learning the truth.
“ Tight , Libby. Everyone’s having a harder time making ends meet in this economy, including Mom and Dad.”
She puts on her flicker, slowing the car to make a left turn.
The tires crunch on the gravel. “Rent’s increased, a lot, and billable hours have been down with people leaving Harmony Hills for bigger towns and more work opportunities elsewhere.
It’s been a whole lot of little things, but they all add up. ”
For a moment I say nothing, trying to absorb what she’s saying.
“It’s been tough on them,” Amelia continues.
“The clinic is their life’s work, obviously, and more than that, Harmony Hills needs them.
So they’ve taken on extra debt—remortgaged the house—to keep the doors open.
I offered to help them, but I don’t have much extra. Teachers don’t exactly rake it in.”
My stomach lurches properly now, and I worry I might throw up right there in the car.
So this is how Claire and Kirby came to consider buying Munro Medical.
This is why everyone looked uncomfortable when I talked about how nicely bronze ages.
The clinic is floundering, and Mom and Dad are barely keeping it afloat.
“Why didn’t they tell me? Maybe I could have helped out?” My voice is thin and weak. Even as I say it, I know it’s too little, too late.
Amelia shoots me a look. “Really, Libby? When would they have told you? You never listen to your voicemails, and you barely respond to text messages these days. Plus, you haven’t been home in over a year.”
Over a year? That can’t be right. But then I do the math.
While I came home pre-Christmas last year, it was brief and because of Mom’s ankle.
The Christmas before that I was working, and then going out on my first date with Austin.
I didn’t make it back that holiday season, even though I promised to try.
So technically, at least from Amelia’s perspective in Christmas past, it has been a long time since I visited Harmony Hills.
“Still… you should have told me, Amelia.” I know blaming my sister is a low blow, and not fair. She’s been here while I haven’t. She’s kind enough not to toss that back at me.
“I was planning to talk to you about it when you came home for the party,” she says. “And here we are, talking about it—so now you know.”
“Mom’s ankle isn’t going to help things,” I say, realization dawning.
Last year, Mom ended up being off her feet for weeks.
I drove back to the city after a mere two days, my focus on enjoying my Christmas vacation with Austin.
I should have stayed in Harmony Hills. I should have asked more questions.
I should have paid closer attention to what was going on.
“It sure isn’t. They’ll probably have to hire a doctor to come and cover for Mom, until she’s on her feet again,” Amelia mutters. My stomach churns.
“I love you, and I know you want to help, Libby. But staying a few days, a couple of weeks… it isn’t going to be enough. I’m not sure how much longer they can keep this up. And I have no idea what that will mean, for them or for Harmony Hills.”
Munro Medical has been a part of the community, and our family, for twenty-five years—my memories before the clinic are spotty, as I was a child when it opened. Mom and Dad are nearing retirement, but if they can’t afford to keep the clinic running and they can’t sell it, then what?
The rest of the car ride is mostly quiet, except for the holiday music Amelia has turned back up, probably to give us both a reprieve.
There isn’t much else to say. I stew in the guilt and worry, circling around and around, looking for solutions that don’t present themselves.
About five minutes later we turn onto a long, gravel driveway that leads to Liam’s farmhouse, and Clover Hill Farm.
It’s a winter wonderland out here, the surrounding fields and rolling hills are blanketed in snow, as is the rooftop of the main barn, the rustic wood beams painted a cheerful red with white trim.
The barn’s roofline and large doors, which are painted black, are adorned with twinkling lights.
As we slow down for a narrow bridge, I notice a babbling brook, its edges sparkling with delicate ice crystals, winding itself along the driveway.
The sign that hangs from two white pickets near the main house reads: WELCOME TO CLOVER HILL FARM: COME FOR THE ANIMALS, STAY FOR THE SNOWBALL FIGHTS!
“That’s cute,” I say.
“He has signs for every season,” Amelia replies. “My favourite is the Halloween one—they do hayrides and he has a corn maze. It’s pretty impressive.”
“What does the sign say?”
“ SPOOKY GREETINGS FROM CLOVER HILL FARM! THE PUMPKINS ARE RIPE, AND THE FRIGHTS ARE JUST RIGHT .”
I smile, imagining Liam coming up with these signs.
Appreciating the care he’s put into making this farm a part of the larger community—the work he’s done to give back to Harmony Hills.
The guilt threatens again, but I tamp it down.
I need a break from the drama, and Clover Hill Farm—and Liam—seem the perfect antidote.
Amelia turns off the car as the farmhouse’s front door, a purple colour that reminds me of fields of lavender, opens. Liam steps out onto the impressive wraparound porch in a grey chunky-knit wool sweater, distressed jeans, and brown leather work boots.
“Well, if that isn’t a catalogue-ready photo. Not my type, of course, but he really is sans défaut,” Amelia says.
I keep my eyes on Liam. “What does that mean?”
“Flawless,” she explains.
“Hmm. No one’s actually flawless though, right?” I reply, though if Liam has any real flaws, I have yet to find them.
Amelia shrugs. “According to Becks, he’s pretty darn close. I mean, hey, if the sweater fits…”
We look at each other, then start laughing. The final bit of tension inside the car dissipates.
Beckett comes out the house and stands beside Liam. They both wave—equally wide smiles on their faces, and I note Beckett has eyes only for Amelia. Despite everything going on, the fact that I get to see the start of what becomes the greatest love of my sister’s life… I well up.
“You okay?” Amelia asks, pausing when she sees me wiping my eyes.
“Allergies,” I reply, clearing my throat.
“In December?”
“It’s a thing!” I’m indignant as I open my car door. “Let’s go and have some fun, okay?”
“You said the magic word,” Amelia replies, opening her own door.
“Which is?” We’re now walking towards the porch, as Liam and Beckett come down the stairs to meet us. A slurry of excitement mixed with a hint of angst fills me when Liam smiles, eyes on mine.
“Fun,” Amelia replies. “We’ve had enough drama for one holiday season, don’t you agree?”