Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
AVERY
My palms are sweaty as I let Matthew lead me through the busy square. He doesn’t stop as people say ‘hello’ and try to start a conversation with him. By the time we reach the edge of the market, the booths, products, and townspeople are just as much of a blur as the quickly falling snow.
Upbeat Christmas carols play from speakers, singing of finding love at Christmas.
How ironic.
“This place is wonderful, Matthew,” I say as I try to keep up with his pace. “Can we check out more of the booths after…wherever we’re going?”
“It has its perks,” he says as he slows down to a stroll. “And of course, I’m sorry. You wanted to look at those bath bombs.”
He looks over my shoulder back at the market, only seeming to have half of his attention on our conversation.
“Are you okay?” I ask, looking behind me to try to see what he’s looking at. “Are we being followed? Is McKenzie coming?” I stop in shock as I look back at him. “Oh my goodness, you are a serial killer, aren’t you? I can’t believe I didn’t listen to my sister and her warnings…”
“What? No, I’m not a serial killer. It’s…” he trails off before his eyes shoot behind me. “We have to go. Now.”
The next thing I know, Matthew tugs on my hand and I’m being pulled through cedar bushes.
I wasn’t prepared for the jarring realization we were going through the bushes.
Unlike everything else in the square, there weren’t any lights or decorations on them.
In fact, if Matthew hadn’t pulled me this way, I wouldn’t have even realized they were right in front of me. But boy am I aware of them now.
The pointed branches slap my face and snow slides over my eyes and through my hair. I want to bat it away but between Matthew and my apple cider, I have no hands to defend myself.
“Matthew, pulling me through bushes out of the eyesight of the town is not the way to convince me you aren’t a serial killer.”
I hear a huff before he stops abruptly, causing me to knock into him, splashing a bit of my apple cider out of the lid of my cup. I frown as I stare at it. If this is going to be my last drink before becoming his next victim, I want to be able to enjoy every last drop of it.
“I want to show you something.” His voice is soft and filled with an emotion I can’t place.
Once my eyes readjust from being battered with branches, I stand in wonder at the vision in front of me.
I’m greeted by a beautiful moonlit garden filled with snow-dusted holly bushes and pots filled with different winter plants that seem to thrive in the cold.
We’re surrounded by evergreen trees and the hedges that I had just sworn as my arch nemesis—but I see now they have a purpose.
They hide the people enclosed within these walls from prying eyes while looking like regular ol’ greenery from the outside.
“What is this place?” I can’t hide the awe and wonder in my voice as I grip his hand and take it all in.
“No longer thinking I’m luring you here to by my next victim?” he jokes.
“I never said that,” I say as I bump my hip into his and roll my eyes.
“It’s a little garden the locals like to keep to themselves,” he continues, leading me toward the middle. “The hedges and trees are used to keep tourists out. We like to keep it just for ourselves. “
I smile, hearing how he includes himself as one of the townspeople.
The snow crunches under our boots as we approach a bench. Matthew lets go of my hand to brush off the built-up snow, and I already miss his warmth. It’s funny how small things like that make you realize how close you’ve gotten to someone in a short amount of time.
Even if I thought he was going to murder me.
“Are you starting to get many tourists here in Gingerbread Grove?”
He motions with his hand to the space he just cleared, and I sit, enjoying the return of his warmth as he sits next to me. I lean back, take a sip of my apple cider and try to appear calm as he rests his free arm long the back of the bench, brushing along my shoulders.
“I hear that it’s picking up, especially as the Inn is getting closer to being opened. I know they were hoping for it to be opened in time for Christmas, but my mom said there was something about delays, and as she put it ‘sabotage from those Candy Cane Creekers.’”
“There’s a real feud going on, huh?” I take another sip of my apple cider. Even though it’s significantly cooled off, the warm spices of cinnamon and cloves filled my body with warmth.
It’s either that or having Matthew so close to my side.
“I know far too much about it, if you ask me.” He takes a sip of his own cider as he stares off at the flowers in front of us.
“When I left, there wasn’t a feud or any issues that I know of.
But then Cal became mayor and started telling everyone that we could be just as much of a destination town as Candy Cane Creek and there was no reason that they need to ‘hog the holiday thunder.’”
“There’s a campaign slogan for ya,” I joke.
He chuckles. “Exactly. Next thing I know, I hear that the town has changed its name and most of the people are on board to make it seem as if the town is literally made out of gingerbread. Businesses changed their names. Street names were swapped for festive ones. I heard they even lobbied the province to have all government buildings play along, but they wouldn’t have it. ”
“I would think not. What about those that didn’t like the change?”
A heavy sigh erupts from Matthew. “They left. Pushed out with anything remaining of Woodland Springs.”
“That’s sad.” As much as I love the idea of a Christmas-themed town, I wouldn’t wish anyone losing their home or friends because of it. “But what does Candy Cane Creek have to do with the Inn being held up?”
“Well, they can’t prove that it was anyone from Candy Cane Creek, but blueprints would go missing right before a decision was made by the city council, contractors would refuse to work with the town after committing to the job, things like that.”
“Why would they want to do that? Wouldn’t tourists to Gingerbread Grove be good for Candy Cane Creek, too?”
“That’s what I think, but what do I know. I don’t live here anymore.”
Sadness returns to his voice, and it physically hurts my heart.
Even though I know he was gone before the town started to change, I can’t help but wonder if he feels like one of the townspeople that was pushed out, too.
I know there was the rift with his parents and the store, but it seems deeper than that. But I don’t think now is the time.
“So, why the hidden garden?”
“I don’t know the full reasoning. It’s been this way my whole life.
I can ask my mom, she’s more up to date on everything that goes on in the town, but I think that as it started to grow, the original members wanted something just for them.
They’re happy to share everything else, but this place is special.
I think it has to do with the original founders. ”
“I wonder what they would think about all the changes,” I muse. Letting my gaze drift over to the corner, I tilt my head and gasp. “Is that a well?”
“Oh that,” Matthew says, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have a well in the middle of a modern town.
“That’s the original water source for Woodland Springs.
Other than the springs themselves, of course.
Before everything was developed into what it is now, the people would come here and get their water.
It’s why the square was built next to it.
But the more people moved to town and the number of tourists grew, the more trash and destruction we would see with it.
The town wanted to do something to protect it, even if it’s not where the water comes from anymore. ”
The grey-bricked well is topped with wooden posts, an old-fashioned wooden rope pulley and a hinged roof.
The only lights inside the garden are the faint warm-white string that lines the edge of the roof.
It reminds me of something out of a fairy tale.
In what I’m learning is typical Gingerbread Grove fashion; it’s currently adorned with red ribbons and solar red and green decorative lights.
“Why do you talk like you aren’t part of the town anymore? The people here seem to think you clearly still are.”
“I haven’t been a part of the town for a long time, Avery.” He answers, looking down at the cup in his hand.
I know there’s more to the story, but it’s not my place to push.
Well, no more than I already have. I have to remind myself that I’m not here for a long time.
There’s no reason for me to try to jump in and fix things—if I even could—because I won’t be in Matthew’s life long enough to really make a difference.
Plus, for the sake of my own heart, there’s no reason to get any more involved than I already am.
“Well, if you ever decide that you want to be again, even just for the time you’re here, I’m sure they would welcome you with open arms.”
“I’m sure they would,” he answers coolly, still looking down at his drink as if it has the answers to all of his problems.
I feel a stab in my own heart with the sadness laced through his words. I don’t want him to be sad. I want him to feel like he belongs, wherever it is that he wants to be. With whoever he chooses to be with.
“Hey,” I say, shifting in my seat so that I’m facing him, but can still feel the warmth of his arm along my back. I may be selfish in wanting to feel his touch when I really have no right to, but I’ll take whatever I can get. “Forget about them for right now. What do you want to do?”
“Other than go back home to Vancouver?” The corner of his mouth ticks up in a coy smile, calming a little of the pain in my heart.
“Is that what you really want? To run again?”
“Ouch, right to the point.” Matthew places his hand over his chest and clutches it dramatically.
“Only to those that don’t want to face the truth and answer the hard questions they are trying to avoid.”
So much for not getting involved.
Matthew sits quietly for a moment, staring at the well.
I wonder if I’ve pushed him too hard. Just a moment ago I didn’t want to get involved and now here I am, sticking my nose right in it.
I can’t help it. There’s something about Matthew Roberts that makes me want to get to know him.
I want to ease his pain and right any wrong that’s been done to him.
Even if I thought he was a serial killer leading me to my last moments in this hidden garden, I know deep down he’s a good guy.
“Maybe I was running,” he answers after a long pause, still not bringing his gaze from the well.
“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.” I reach over, placing my hand on his arm.
“Maybe not, but I was embarrassed. Who doesn’t know their girlfriend is dating someone else? Engaged to someone else?”
“More people than you think,” I whisper, trying not to think of my own situation.
Even though it’s entirely too similar to his, I can’t help but think how easy it is to lose someone you thought was your everything. Someone who you were convinced thought the same of you, only to find out it had all been a lie.
Closing my eyes, I will the tears not to come.
I feel them threatening to spill as my own hurt and guilt at not seeing the warning signs with Maxwell rush through me.
I’m one of those people. I didn’t see it coming.
I was completely shocked when he opened that door to find him having a romantic dinner with someone that wasn’t me.
“I’m so sorry, Avery.”
Warm hands cup my cheeks and brush away my tears. I lean into them, letting him wipe away the hurt that comes with thinking of my selfish ex-boyfriend. Especially when right in front of me is someone who would never treat another person like that. Someone that gets how I feel.
“It was thoughtless of me to say that,” he continues, still brushing his thumbs over my skin even though I think the tears have stopped. “Of course you know what it’s like.”
Opening my eyes, I find myself lost in his. For the first time, they remind me a little of gingerbread themselves decorated with green and gold glitter, which I find ironic and hilarious at the same time.
“Something funny?’” he asks with a smile of his own.
“Nothing, I…” I lose my train of thought as I watch the snow fall around us, dusting Matthew’s hair and wetting his glasses.
The only light is from the moon in the cloudless sky and the faint lights from the well.
The sounds from the market are more distant now, like the soft hum of a song in the background.
If anything, it’s as if there’s only the two of us in the whole square.
“Avery…” His voice trails off as we keep staring into each other’s eyes.
“Yes, Matthew?” My voice is breathless as I try to figure out what he’s thinking. What he is almost saying.
I want to know why he brought me here to the secret garden.
Why he’s cupping my cheeks and looking at me like he wants to kiss me.
No one is around. There’s no one to impress or convince we are a couple.
Anything we are experiencing now is just for us.
That’s both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
Without a word, he leans in and brushes his lips softly against mine. My breath hitches as his fingers curl into my hair, holding me close. I can’t think, can’t breathe. My hands move on their own as I grasp on to his forearms, as we pull apart slowly, our foreheads touching as we catch our breath.
Keeping my eyes closed, I let the lingering rush of our kiss remain on my lips. I feel as heated as if I were warming by the fire. I’m sure my cheeks are flushed, as the white puff of our breaths mix together between us.
“Matthew! There you are!”
A loud feminine voice pulls me out of my post-kiss bliss. Eyes wide, my gaze darts to the small older woman with her hands on her hips, the expression on her face that is levelled at Matthew, a mixture of frustration and love.
Matthew sighs before sitting straight and taking my hand. He stands, pulling me up with him.
“Hi, Mom. I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.”