Chapter 14 #2
Astrid raised a brow like a disapproving teacher. “Not something to brag about, dear.”
“You’re right. But I didn’t pay it. I mean, I paid, but it wasn’t my money. It came from Greyson’s account. It’s a long story.”
“Tell me you’re not involved with both of them like some 1970s key party.”
If only it seemed that simple. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” She clenched the paper bag in her fist. “I gotta go. Thanks for the oil.”
Stepping back onto the cold sidewalk was like coming up for air. Wren drew in a deep breath. It was getting late and she needed to hustle.
On her walk to Paper Moon, the town stationary store, Wren passed several townspeople who stared at her as they whispered behind their hands like conspirators.
The more looks she got, the more self-conscious she grew, her skin crawling with unwanted attention until she regretted ever going to that damn auction in the first place.
Next time Logan played a prank on Soren, they could figure it out themselves.
By the time Wren made it back to The Haven, Bodhi seemed a mess, his energy scattered like leaves in a windstorm. He didn’t like his routine disrupted, and without his morning tea to level him out, he’d entered a manic mood and completely fell out of alignment with his usual chill frequency.
“Freya, can you…?”
“On it,” the chef said, taking the bag of herbs from Wren. “The kettle should still be warm.”
Wren only had a few minutes before her yoga students arrived. And she needed to check on her dad. “Where’s River?”
“He’s with a client,” Lilly said, a smitten smile spreading across her face. “Heard you had quite the night last night.”
Despite Lilly’s innocent big eyes and pixie-like haircut, she had a wickedness about her that sparkled like mischief. Most of the time, she acted so laid back people assumed she used drugs, but when good gossip came around, she perked up like a flower in sunlight.
“My night was boring.”
Lilly snorted. “Please. I can tell when you’re lying. Besides, everyone’s talking about it.”
Wren massaged the back of her neck where a kink had formed, tension coiling around her like a snake. Not giving the comment any oxygen, she set the toner on the front desk. “Have you seen Bodhi?”
“Check outside.”
Wren turned and spotted two locals walking from the parking lot with yoga mats under their arms. Her phone buzzed and she distractedly glanced at the screen.
Soren again.
He sure was persistent.
Especially compared to Greyson, who only called once. She sent the call to voicemail.
“Tell the students to start with a meditation. I’ll meet them in the studio in ten minutes.” Wren rushed out the side door to find her dad. As expected, Bodhi wandered the Zen garden.
“Dad?”
He paced in circles around the gravel paths with his coat half-buttoned, a single glove dangling from one hand like a forgotten memory. He didn’t seem to notice the chill in the air.
“Dad?” Wren approached slowly.
He mumbled something about the cats’ shelters.
“The eastern winds knocked more cedar shingles loose.” He paused to adjust a small, empty bird feeder like it operated a pressure valve on a steam engine.
“I told myself last spring, didn’t I? Told myself we’d replace the shingles.
But look at that. Look at that one, Wrennie.
It’s leaning like an old man in a storm. ”
Wren stepped onto the path with slow, careful steps, knowing Bodhi didn’t like to feel rushed when he got like this. Her heart ached for him.
“We can fix the roofs, Dad.”
“We’ll have to. More snow’s coming. The elders must be protected.”
“I know. We’ll make sure all the cats are fine.” She dusted a few pine needles off the stone bench, shivering as she wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re not wearing your hat.”
He didn’t answer, but felt his head. “Missing my own shingles,” he joked, and Wren smiled.
“What do you say we go back inside before you catch a chill?”
He crouched beside one of the cat shelters and ran his hands along the edge of the little roof, his fingers trembling slightly from cold or anxiety.
The sun hadn’t reached this part of the garden yet, so the cats hid elsewhere.
Probably curled up in the kitchen sunroom, waiting for him like devoted subjects.
“I went into town and picked up more of your tea.” She kneeled beside him on the cold gravel. “It’s steeping on the counter with honey, just the way you like it.”
He blinked at her, still somewhat confused. “We’re out of valerian. I checked twice. Maybe three times. I could’ve sworn I had more in the green tin.”
“I got some today.” She reached out, adjusting the open flap of his coat with gentle fingers. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm and you can have some.”
He pulled back in quiet defiance. “Not until we fix the leak in the corner cat house.”
“Dad, your hands are freezing. Greyson will come by and fix it later.”
“Greyson’s busy.”
“Not too busy for you.”
He frowned, then nodded, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air.
“You’re shivering, Dad. Come inside. We’ll look at the shelters after you’ve had your tea.”
Still, he hesitated. Rolling a loose pebble between his finger and thumb, squinting toward the treetops as if trying to remember something lost among the bare branches.
And then, in a soft voice, he said, “You’re so much like her.”
Wren swallowed hard, her throat burning. She didn’t ask who. She didn’t need to.
“She could hear people, even when they didn’t say a word.”
Her throat burned. “Mom would want you to go inside, Dad.”
“I’m not ready yet.” He shook his head. “She should have been here, with us.”
Wren never complained about the care her father needed, but sometimes, when his episodes came during busy days, it was hard to prioritize his needs over hers. She’d been doing it since she was fifteen, and learned long ago there was no rushing him when he got like this.
She picked up the glove he’d dropped. “Come inside with me, Dad. We can have tea together, and you can tell me everything that needs fixing. We’ll make a list, like we used to.”
He nodded. Not really agreeing, but yielding to the possibility. “A lot needs fixing around here.”
That hurt to hear, being that The Haven was less than five years old and she’d spent every spare minute she had fixing it up. “We’ll take care of everything. We’ll make it perfect—for Mom.”
He finally gave in and they walked toward the doors together.
Most days, Bodhi did as he pleased, taking care of the grounds, seeing to the cats, and drinking tea with Aunt Astrid when she visited. But every once in a while, he had an episode.
Maybe it stemmed from the drugs he did in his youth. Maybe his manic moods had to do with depression. Or maybe this represented just the broken pieces left over after a broken heart that never quite healed.
When he got confused like this, the best thing to do was get him back on track and make sure he got a decent night’s sleep. Wren didn’t pity her father or herself. This was what was left of their family, and she was grateful she still had one parent in her life.
It didn’t matter what others in the town said or thought about them. As long as they had each other, they were all right.
She set her father up in the sun room with his tea and asked Lilly to teach her class. The cats greeted Bodhi—their god—with purrs and loving headbutts.
“How’s the tea, Dad?”
“Perfect.”
There was less risk in taking care of him now than when she was younger. She didn’t have to worry that someone might see him or judge him as an unfit parent. She didn’t have to worry someone might take him, or her, away.
Sometimes, his episodes lasted days. She used to miss school and truant officers would show up at her house. Then came the social services. If not for Greyson stepping in and helping her with Bodhi, she might have been forced into foster care.
Settling beside her father with a notepad, she clicked her pen. “Are you ready to make our list?”
Appearing startled by her company, he grinned. “No class today?”
She didn’t bother rehashing the last thirty minutes. There was no point. “I wanted to spend some time with you.”
His hand trembled as he set down his tea. “Well, that’s a treat. What kind of list did you want to make?”
“Whatever kind of list you want.” She set her pen to the paper and waited.
He sat back, cradling his mug in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. “Did I ever tell you about my time in Bali?”
“Yes, but tell me again.” She set down the notepad.
They never did make a list, but that was never the point. The point was making sure he felt safe and knew his world wouldn’t crumble without warning again.
By the end of the day, she was utterly drained, her emotional reserves empty as a dry well.
Several “new” students came in for the yoga class, and Wren was glad she ended up skipping. Most of them were town rumormongers, likely showing up for the gossip rather than the downward dog.
She had a quiet dinner with Bodhi that night, and helped him settle in.
She stared at the clock, wondering what would happen at seven.
After such a trying day, the thought of having a deep, emotional conversation with Greyson—no matter how long she waited for that moment to come—was the last thing she wanted to do.
She was obviously procrastinating and still hadn’t responded to Soren, whose texts had gone from sweet to anxious to concerned to irritated, then back to sweet, then frustrated again. It was a roller coaster of emotions in digital form.
She deserved all of it, but wanted to deal with none of it.
On top of everything else, she’d forgotten they had a date scheduled. In his last message, he told her she acted like a coward. He was right.
With a sigh, she texted him back.
I know I owe you an explanation for breaking our plans, and I promise one is coming. I just need some time. I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything next time we talk in person. No matter what, I love you. Please don’t be mad at me.
“Send.” She waited for a response, but his silence stretched like an accusation.
When she pulled up at Greyson’s, she hung in the car for a few minutes, wondering if this represented a mistake. Even if she was unsure about the conversation to come, she wanted to be held, and his arms were the ones she craved like an addiction she couldn’t shake.
Maybe the heavy stuff could wait until tomorrow.
God knew they waited long enough to get there. Whatever they had to say to each other should keep another twelve hours.
She pulled the keys out of the ignition and navigated the icy path, surprised Greyson hadn’t salted it. When she knocked, she had the strange sense that something wasn’t right. The house was dark, and she couldn’t smell wood burning.
“Greyson?” She knocked again and jiggled the handle. Locked.
Stepping off the porch, she walked backwards to look at the chimney. No smoke. Navigating the icy walk, she went to the garage and pulled the sliding barn door open. Empty.
Her insides shook like a water balloon as realization settled in, rupturing all the lies she told herself that day. The truth rained over her like shattered glass.
“Mother fucker.” Lips firmed, jaw tight, she breathed deeply to calm her fury, and failed spectacularly.
He did it to her again.