Chapter 30
[Tate]
The next morning, despite the early hour, I feel like I have an extra spring in my step. Sex with Neve is out of this world. She’s considering opening her own repair shop. And, she set up the most thoughtful date, reminding me of many reasons why I love Lovewell Landing. And her.
All feels right with the world. Or at least, better.
Jake did ask me to be his best man after a brief argument about why I’m still in Lovewell Landing. I reminded him one more time I wasn’t leaving. Not with Neve pregnant and the baby due soon.
And even after that, I don’t intend to leave them behind.
Neve and I are fragile, yet we’re moving at warp speed.
There is still something between us. I know what I’ve been keeping from her, and maybe that’s why she doesn’t fully trust me.
Or trust this closeness we’re developing.
Because something is happening between us.
Something unlike anything I’ve felt before, and it isn’t because she’s having our child.
She’s so different from anyone I’ve experienced in the past. Like she’s that something around the corner I’ve been seeking for a long time.
Heck, she even lived around the corner, and I’d missed her for years.
Wasted time, I curse myself.
Speaking of time, the longer I take to tell Neve my secret, the harder it will be to confess the truth. But she’s so close to her due date, I don’t want to upset her. Not yet. Still, I know I need to come clean. Soon.
I hated to leave the comfort of the bed we shared, filled with Neve’s sleeping form and the scent of us coming together, but I have plans with my cousins today. A plan Neve fully endorses. I’m hoping some nature will give me perspective.
The Autumn Equinox arrives today, and a ritual around here is to watch the sun rise, breaching the distant ocean, and spilling through the trees. Like a golden yolk, the fiery flame of a new season will glide upward between two strategically placed oaks, mirroring the Stonehenge effect.
Landon loves to watch it. Fisk uses it as an excuse to drink beer in the morning.
And it’s been ages since the three of us have taken a hike in the woods.
My thoughts are full as we start our pre-dawn trek.
I’m going to be a father.
The idea doesn’t frighten me as much as it should. Everything is already changing.
My feelings for Neve. My thoughts about work. I need a firm plan.
Because Neve lives here, and the baby will be here, too. I could fly in and out like some people do, commuting to the big city and returning on the weekends, but that’s a lot of time and effort. Time I’ll be missing from Neve and the baby. Time I’d rather spend with them.
While the deal with Rusty’s Wrecks wasn’t the largest I’ve ever made, Hessfield Holdings is thrilled with the business it will bring them from Vanderburg, the parent company for Bucky Beaver Body Shop. The major conglomerate has sought property on the coast for three years.
And securing that deal means I’m up for partnership.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been working hard for Hessfield Holdings for fifteen years. Long hours. Rare vacations. Loads of wining and dining and kissing asses. And I did it. I loved it. It’s been lucrative. But there’s always been something missing.
And I think I’ve found it right here in Lovewell Landing. I just don’t know how to make all the pieces fit.
A hard clap to my back and then the sudden appearance of a beer can in front of me, causes me to turn my head toward Landon.
“You’re too quiet,” he states.
“It’s early,” I whisper, as if I don’t want to disturb the darkness still around us. Or the bears, certain to be sleeping somewhere close, but hopefully not too close.
Fisk hums, as he’s a generally silent man himself. He’s normally up early, fishing before he heads to work. He enjoys the peace and quiet before a day of demanding tourists and locals alike.
Both their lives are so different from mine, which includes meeting train schedules and deadlines. Hustling through crowds and dinner reservations. Always looking at the bottom line instead of just sitting on my bottom and relaxing.
“It’s nice up here,” I admit, like I haven’t been here before. Since I haven’t been here in years, it feels different. The leaves are changing with every passing day. Leaf-peepers are already filling the area. The air smells crisp and damp, decaying a little bit, as the season shifts.
“Thinking of staying?” Landon asks, looking toward the sky where it’s starting to lighten enough that you can finally see your hand in front of your own face.
“Trying to think of a way,” I admit.
“Really going to embrace being a dad?” Fisk asks.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Think you’ll be better at it than your dad?” Landon asks next, his voice quiet, knowing how much pressure Forrest Love put on me, wanting me to be a doctor. Landon always had the perfect father. John Abbott is a saint.
“I sure hope so.” I crack the beer and take a sip, even though I’m not particularly thirsty for the hoppy flavor so early in the morning.
“Think you’ll put a ring on Neve’s finger?” Fisk asks next.
“I don’t know,” I admit when I’ve actually been thinking about it more and more. I don’t just want Neve as my partner. I want her as my wife. A partner for life. But this topic feels too heavy for the early morning.
“Those Snowe girls are hard to lock down,” Fisk states, before taking a swig of his beer.
“What do you mean?” I ask, reminded I didn’t grow up around here. I don’t have the history or intel these guys have on the Snowe sisters.
“The Ice Queen ran off for better things,” Fisk says, snubbing up his nose.
“You mean, Icelyn, Isolde’s twin?”
Fisk takes another sip of his beer, confirming my question.
Landon chuckles. “And that Isolde is a piece of work.”
“Why?” I laugh. “Because she hasn’t fallen for your charm yet.”
Landon doesn’t answer. He simply glances down at his beer.
“Lumi has a boyfriend,” I state, although I haven’t met the guy. He sounds a bit mysterious, always coming and going, which gave me the idea that I might be able to do the same thing.
“But that Neve is a wild cat.” Fisk hums.
“How so?”
“No man has ever gotten close to her. At least not the locals. I can’t recall her ever having a boyfriend. Only flings with flatlanders.” Landon grimaces. “Sorry, man.”
“Well, I’m not a flatlander,” I defend, like I’m different, because I want to be. I want to be special to Neve, not just the father of her child. Then again, just because I don’t consider myself a flatlander doesn’t mean I’m a lander either. A Lovewell Landing local.
And yet, Neve’s date reminded me how much I want to be one. How much I enjoy the ocean view and the seasonal changes. How much I like the slower pace and quirky traditions.
We remain quiet for another few minutes, waiting for the light of a new day to tick brighter.
Finally, Landon says, “I think I’m going to close my business.”
“What?” I shift toward him, surprised by the sudden change in subject. “Why?”
He glances toward the slowly lightening sky. “I need a rebrand.”
Landon owns a guided hiking business called Off The Beaten Path, and his current office is located in his father’s hardware store.
“I’m looking to broaden my horizons a little bit, and Benny has a bunch of canoes for sale. I could add bikes for riding trails and diversify a little bit. But there’s also a summer camp for sale, and I’m considering buying it.”
“Either sounds good,” I state, impressed with his thinking.
“I just need a change.” He stands taller. “And I think Lovewell Landing will be a better fit for me.”
I stare at him, mentally agreeing.
“Are you keeping the name or changing it?” I ask.
“Total rebrand. I was thinking of calling it AdventureLandon.” He spreads his hand and waves it toward the trees like a billboard.
“Sounds like a superhero name,” Fisk mutters.
“Let AdventureLandon take you to new heights,” I state, like a radio advertisement. “Sounds promising.”
“Sounds sexual,” Fisk snorts, and we all laugh.
But as the sun finally peeks over the water, we stand in awe of its brilliance, and with the urgent orange and vibrant yellow, I’m reminded once more how much I love this area.
While the sun climbs upward, perfectly positioned between those two trees in our line of sight, we hear the distinct snap of a twig behind us. All three of us stand taller. Fisk slowly lowers his beer, like he’s a teenager caught underage drinking. Landon turns his head slightly to listen.
Another snap. The definitive crunch of leaves. Nearing footsteps.
“Bear?” I whisper out the side of my mouth.
“Stand very still,” Landon warns.
Fisk closes his eyes.
The cackle we hear behind us causes each of us to spin, because bears don’t laugh like that.
Aunt Charma does.
All three of us turn at her approach.
“Jesus,” Fisk mutters.
“Witches,” Aunt Charma responds, a twinkle in her eyes as she holds up an ancient lantern.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
“Celebrating Mabon.”
Giving Landon a look, I silently question: Am I expected to know who that is?
Landon shakes his head.
“Find the balance between light and dark,” Aunt Charma begins. “Give gratitude for all you’ve harvested. Reflect on all you’ve learned and release what no longer serves.”
She steps closer to us, as we’re all angled in some manner toward her.
“The answers you seek have always been around the next turn.”
I stiffen, like she’s been reading my mind.
Aunt Charma looks a little crazed with her wild silver hair and wrinkled face. She’s wearing a white nightgown with a long black coat over it.
She holds up her lantern, waving it subtly at each of us as she says, “Three sons from three sisters brought their wishes to fruition. Ask the well your questions, get the answers in tradition.”
She laughs, the sound lighter than the earlier cackle. Then she turns, retracing her steps back into the woods.
“She’s so strange,” Fisk mutters.
“She’s harmless,” Landon states, turning back for the sunrise.
She’s also right, and I continue to stare after her for another minute.
When Neve took us to the well on New Year’s Eve, and we sat in her chilly Bronco, waiting for midnight, I mentally asked the well a question.
And I think it gave me the answer.
Bloody hell.
“It’s Neve,” I blurt, then clear my throat, although swallowing does nothing to calm the sudden racing in my heart.
The wind picks up, and the leaves rustle in the trees. And Aunt Charma cackles one more time before I can no longer see her. I spin back for the sunrise.
“I’ve got to go. Neve has a doctor’s appointment,” I clarify as if that explains my outburst. Explains the hammering behind my rib cage.
Fisk chugs the last of his beer. Landon salutes the sun with his can. I just stand there another second, breathing in clarity.
Then we all turn and hike back to Lovewell Landing.