Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
“ Every moment has its pleasures and its hopes .”
~Jane Austen, Mansfield Park
T he news was out! By ten-thirty, Elle’s phone pinged with incoming messages.
Beth had sent a group text.
Beth: CJ OWENS!? YOU’RE DATING CJ Owens???
Carmen: YAY!
Elle: Beth, you live in Chicago. How do you know this?
Beth: My Mom. Everyone knows the pastor’s wife has the BEST gossip.
Elle: He’s Clayton now, not CJ, and yes, I am seeing him.
Beth: So, I guess you aren’t Charlotte Lucas, after all.
Carmen: Lizzie!!!!
Elle had never been the Lizzie Bennet of her story, always playing the tried-and-true best friend, the wise one with witty comments and sage advice that seemed to come from no actual experience. This was an undiscovered continent for Elle to explore…the leading lady of her own story.
Taking the rest of the day off, Elle drove to Noah’s bakery, the Farmer’s Wife, picking up a variety of treats and headed to Clayton’s vet practice. The clinic was located on the edge of the village.
Meghan, Clayton and Jerome’s partner, greeted her with a smile as she walked through the front door. “Elle!”
Elle placed two large boxes of cupcakes on the counter. Needless to say, she was a hit with the staff, who referred to her as “Mrs. Doc.” Upon hearing that, the tug-of-war between tensing muscles and spreading warmth left her head spinning.
Clayton was with a patient, so Meghan led her down a narrow hall, past bathrooms, and several storage closets to an alcove with three office doors. A picture of Fitz hung outside one of the doors. The small office walls featured exposed brick and little else. Pulling the pad of purple Post-Its Clayton bought her out of her purse, she scribbled a quick note tacking it on the inside lid of the cinnamon roll box, setting it on the desk beside the laptop.
As Elle walked to her car, her phone pinged with Clayton’s response to her flirty Post-It.
Fitz’s Human: Something sweet for me to devour other than you, eh?
Elle: To quench your appetite until tonight.
Fitz’s Human: Impossible.
In the mirror, Elle could see the full-faced smile plastered on her face. The entire experience with his staff had been warm and welcoming, like she was family.
On her way back to the Little Red Barn she stopped for a tea from Cow Tales, the town’s book and coffeeshop. She’d also picked up supplies for the cheeseboard and a few bottles of wine to take to Noah’s house. As she stowed a couple of gifts she’d bought, she lounged on the couch, bare feet swaying, getting lost in the romance of Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth.
Her reading pleasure was interrupted by a knock.
“Ma’am.” Clayton drawled, tipping the brim of his black cowboy hat, standing shirtless in jeans that hung low on his cut physique. A black T-shirt dangled from one of his hands.
Elle licked her lips and dragged him inside. Shutting the door, she pressed him against it and lowered to her knees in front of him. Clayton’s breath caught, as she opened the top button of his jeans and unzipped them. Pulling down his jeans and underwear, she released him. She grasped him, peering up through hooded lashes, to see his throat bob.
“Elle,”Clayton moaned, as she licked up his length. His guttural “Fuck” and the thud of his head hitting the back of the door was all the encouragement she needed.
Sated and cleaned up, they stood in the kitchen preparing the cheese board to head to Noah’s. Confidence bloomed in Elle as she hip-checked Clayton, who stood next to her slicing cheese. The sleeveless creamy white dress, her loose waves allowing the purple of the newly purchased lilac earrings to stand out against auburn strands, making her feel like the heroine from a summer romance.
“You wear this a lot. Does it mean something?” he asked, rubbing the starfish pendant hanging a few inches below her collarbone.
“It does.” Her lips tugged up with the memory. “Viet’s mother, Anh, told me this story once. An old man is on a beach watching a young girl throwing starfish into the sea. He asks her what she’s doing. She explains that it’s low tide and if they don’t get thrown back into the water, they’ll die. As he looks down the miles and miles of beach filled with hundreds of starfish, he says you won’t save them all. You won’t make a difference.She picks up a starfish and tosses it into the ocean telling the old man that she made a difference for that one.”
Clayton traced the edges of her starfish pendant as if imprinting it to memory. “I like that. It’s how I feel about my practice. Saving the world one pet at a time.”
Noah lived in his childhood home buying the blue Victorian from his parents when they decided to downsize. Their small party gathered in Noah’s mancave. It was an actual mancave complete with a large bar, oversize leather couch, and framed Wheaties boxes with Doug Flutie and Jim Kelly, posters of Buffalo Sabres players, and team photos featuring he and Clayton in football, basketball, and track uniforms.
“Elle and Clayton!”Carmen squealed, her arms in the air, an amused Mathew standing nearby.
“Who needs a drink?” Todd smirked from behind the bar, lining up small beer tasting glasses. “Our mission, if you choose to accept it, and you will, is to help find Elle a beer she likes.”
The first beer he served was a blonde ale called Sunrise at Letchworth. It was smoother than Elle had imagined but wasn’t something she’d have more than one of. The next was called The Yellow Jacket named for the school’s mascot and featured a tinging bite courtesy of added jalapeno. No thank you!
Next up was the Farmer’s Wife’s Cookie, a stout with a nutmeg and vanilla that tasted like liquid dessert, but its richness wouldn’t allow her to drink more than a few sips. They sampled an IPA called the Mayor, an ode to Carmen. Elle confessed to liking the real Carmen better than the beer. Todd slid the next one in front of her. The sour brew was called The Detention Slip. Todd pointed out that he doubted Elle would like it but wanted her to try all standing menu items. Carmen and Elle laughed as they toasted to finally getting detention. Terrible!
“I saved this one for last. I know this is going to be the one you want over and over again.” Todd‘s mouth curved up with confidence, pouring a smooth amber liquid into fresh, tasting glasses.
“Best for last.” Noah winked.
Elle sniffed the creamy liquid before raising the small glass in a toast to their brew master. “Kiss my brass!”
Noah watched Elle’s face as she sipped. Flavor cascaded along her tastebuds.
“That’s the winner,” she declared and took another sip. “Todd, that is really good. I could have that every day.”
“I told you!” Noah said, his grin cheeky as he high-fived Todd.
Carmen buried her face in her hands, trying to conceal her loud giggles. Mathew looked away, hiding his smirk. Even Clayton chuckled.
Elle’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s so funny?”
Todd turned the bottle he had poured from, revealing the label. “This one is called the Doc Owens.”
Realization reddened Elle’s face knowing full well the “Doc” on the label was not Clayton’s father. She buried her face against Clayton’s chest as the entire group erupted in raucous laughter.
“The beer is smooth, just like my guy,” Noah bragged, raising his glass.
“To Doc!” Everyone shouted, raising their glasses to Clayton in salute.
Todd poured more beer and the cheese board was emptied of its contents. The best of the late 90’s played in the background. Elle finished a second full glass of Doc Owens as her Doc Owens’s arm twined around her.
With an “I’ll be back,” Clayton slipped away to call his sister, who was flying in the next morning for their mom’s sixty-second birthday.
“I’ve got a treat for you all,” Todd announced. “It’s called Surviving Christmas, and we’ll have it and the pumpkin ale in our sample packs for the holidays. See if you can taste the different flavors. I age it in a special barrel.”He poured samples for Mathew, Carmen, and Elle.
She sniffed and the aroma assaulted her nostrils. Every muscle grew rigid, and a chill slithered down her spine making the air feel like a cold January night instead of the heat of August. The scent of bourbon flooded her senses and her hands trembled as she placed the glass down. She splayed her fingers on the bar’s smooth surface, trying to anchor her in the now and not slip to the past.
That smell. Closing her eyes, the softness of her dress suddenly transformed into the scratchy fabric of her grandma’s afghan. Mathew’s laugh morphed into a sneering voice saying, “ You’re lucky it was me .” The faint aroma of chocolate in the beer transformed to sticky, spilled hot chocolate.
Gripping the edge of the bar, she sucked in a hard breath . I’m safe. I’m in Noah’s basement and not on that couch .
“Elle.”Noah’s voice was hushed as his warm hand covered hers.
She flinched. It’s Noah, not Jamie.
Noah’s eyes were bright with concern. “I almost forgot you asked where the bathroom was. Guys, we’ll be back,” he said, like nothing was happening and everything was okay.
But it wasn’t. Fucking bourbon. All it took was one tiny sniff to drag her to the past.
Gently, Noah took Elle by the arm, and guided her nonchalantly up the stairs. “I got you, you’re safe,” he whispered so only she could hear.
Blinking as if waking from a long sleep, Elle found herself in an unfamiliar room, atop a plush armchair. Noah knelt in front of her, patience and worry drawn on his features.
Elle’s breath settled, and her eyes focused. Her tense muscles released, and she felt as if all the air whooshed out of her. She inhaled sharply and realized where she was and what had happened. It had been so long since that had happened, since Jamie crept into a happy moment like an unwelcome dinner guest.
“I’m sorry. Did everyone notice?” She steadied her breathing.
“No. Everyone was focused on something stupid Mathew was doing,” Noah assured her.
Elle exhaled shakily, thankful for Mathew’s goofball antics. “But you noticed?”
“Only because I know that look… I have PTSD from my time in the Marines,” he said.
Elle closed her eyes, trying not to picture what horror Noah might have seen or heard during his two tours in Iraq. Better than most, she understood how trauma affected people.
“I used to love fires in our firepit. My family did them every Sunday, even in the winter. But after… we don’t anymore. I can see images on the news and watch war movies, but when that burning smell comes up…it clobbers me.”
“Bourbon does it for me.”
“Shit. Todd ages that brew in a bourbon barrel. I saw the dazed look in your eyes when you smelled it, I knew something was wrong.”
“Did he tell you?” Her whispered question held an unspoken hope that Clayton hadn’t said anything.
“Clayton? He’d never utter a word unless you told him it was okay.” His look was earnest. “I don’t know what happened, but I do understand triggers. I’ve had some great counselors at the VA. The triggers and the memories never go away, but you get better at dealing with them. Good friends and a sturdy shoulder to lean on help.”
“Thanks for…” She knew she didn’t have the words to express the depth of her appreciation.
Behind Noah’s charming smile hid a deep well of intuition, patience, and kindness. On the surface, he appeared the handsome entrepreneur always ready with an unbridled smile, flirty wink, and perfect words. It was easy to overlook his watchful eyes that saw so much more than others. He was exactly who she thought he was in high school and so much more.
“Just standing in for him.” Noah said, tipping his head to the door.
Elle twisted in the chair. Clayton stood in the doorway worry etched on his face.
“I’ll leave you two.”Noah squeezed Elle’s hand, then rose, and moved toward Clayton.
“Noah…”
He stopped, looking over his shoulder, his blue eyes warm like a tropical sea.
“…Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He smiled.
“What happened?” Clayton murmured, walking to the chair and kneeling in front of Elle, who wrapped her arms around him.
“Todd served this beer made in a bourbon barrel. That night Jamie had been drinking…”
“Bourbon.” He finished her sentence, tightening his arms protectively, as if Jamie was in the room.
In a way he was. The alcohol’s aroma summoned Jamie’s ghost, which sank into her like a razor toothed crocodile.
“I just froze. Noah noticed.”
“When I went back you and Noah were gone.”
“Why’d you come to find me?”
“Call it intuition. Something told me I had to find you.”
“You always find me when I need you, don’t you?” Elle tilted her face to him.
“I try.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
There was no trying; he just did. His presence was a warm blanket to wrap herself in. He’d always catch her if she fell.
“I think I’m ready to go back down.” She squared her shoulders.
“Are you sure? We can leave if you want.” He released her and straightened to his full height.
“No. I can’t let him continue to control me.”
For years, she had relinquished so much control to Jamie and her mom. No more.
“Plus, I have my support human.”Elle laced her fingers through his.
“Always.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
As the night ended, they paused next to his pickup.
“I have two questions,” he said.
“I have two answers,” she teased.
“My mom’s birthday dinner is on Sunday. Will you go with me?”
“Of course.” They’d be flying to Boston for her, she could come to dinner to celebrate his mom, a woman she liked. “What’s your second question?” Her tone flirty.
“Will you stay with me for the rest of your trip?”
Her throat went dry. “What?”
“Stay with me every night while you’re still here. It makes sense to move your things over to the farmhouse. You’ve stayed there every night since Tuesday. Or we can keep things as they are, and I’ll ask you to stay with me daily. I just…I…”He let out a steadying breath. “I just want you with me.”
Elle’s pulse quickened with each word. They’d be living together. It would be temporary, like going on vacation with someone, but he wasn’t on vacation. This was his home, his life. Although she had known him as a girl, until two weeks ago when they’d reignited a friendship, he’d never been anything but CJ.
Now, he was Clayton, a man she was falling for. A man who was worth taking a leap for.
The pace of her heart roared. With a long intake of reassuring air and eyes wide, she jumped. “Yes.”