Chapter 15
Carla
Thursday night, the Red Fang Saloon had been decorated with white lights and garlands, along with pink and blue ribbons in honor of Beth’s baby shower.
Holding the gift I’d purchased online and had delivered, wrapped in pretty paper, I descended the stairs after changing out of my jeans and sweater.
I paused halfway down to take in the scene.
The usual rowdy atmosphere had softened to something intimate and celebratory, with tables pushed to the edges to create an open gathering space in the center.
Holly and Jessi were hanging the final decorations while Greel was arranging bottles behind the bar for the private event. Aunt Inla directed it all from the center of the room, her silver-streaked hair twisted into an elaborate updo, her dress a festive pattern of holly leaves and berries.
“Wonderful timing,” she called out when she spotted me. “Come help with these gift tables.”
I joined her, smoothing the pale blue tablecloth over the wooden surface.
My small package looked inadequate next to the larger boxes already arranged there.
What did I know about babies or showers or any of this?
My expertise lay in rodeo operations and tourist management, not the intimate traditions of close-knit communities.
“Nervous?” Aunt Inla asked, her perceptive gaze missing nothing.
“A little.” I straightened a stack of napkins. “I’ve never been to a baby shower before.”
“No?” She looked genuinely surprised. “Not even for friends or relatives?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to be invited to these kinds of events.”
“Well, consider this your first of many,” she said, patting my arm. “You’re fitting in so well here, I sometimes forget you haven’t always been a part of Lonesome Creek.”
The warmth of her words collided with the reality of my situation. My contract would end in a few days. I’d be gone, moving on to the next job, the next town. The thought created a hollow feeling in my chest that I wasn’t ready to examine.
The mark on my wrist caught my eye, and I tugged my sweater sleeve down to hide it. We still hadn’t discussed what we’d done in the cabin or where this might be headed between us. I’d begun to believe nothing had changed at all. Maybe he didn’t want me any more than my aunt and uncle had.
The front door opened, and Beth entered, her pregnant belly leading the way, Ruugar hovering so close behind her he nearly stepped on her heels. The tenderness in his expression as he guided her to the chair of honor in the center of the room made my throat tighten.
I couldn’t imagine what it might be like to have that kind of certainty in someone other than myself. That bone-deep knowledge that someone saw you, understood you, and would always be there.
Becken appeared at the top of the stairs and descended.
My heart stuttered at the sight of him, freshly showered after our day in the forest, his dark hair still damp at the temples.
He carried a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, looking awkward and out of place among the festive decorations.
Our eyes met across the room. His expression shifted, softening, and I found myself smiling in response. A day spent cutting down Christmas trees shouldn’t leave me with this flutter in my stomach, this awareness of him that was so much more than physical.
Yet here I was, taking in the width of his shoulders, the way he moved with controlled power through the room, and the gentleness in his hands as he placed his gift on the table.
“That tree looks amazing in the square,” Rosey said, appearing at my elbow. “You two did a great job.”
“Becken did most of the work. I just helped pick it out.”
“Well, whatever you did, it’s perfect. The lighting ceremony tomorrow night will be magical.”
More guests arrived, Hail and Allie, Tark and Gracie, Ostor and Rosey, even Grannie Lil with her ever-present cane.
The room filled with conversation and laughter, the atmosphere warming like mulled cider.
Though I’d known these people less than two weeks, they greeted me with the easy familiarity of old friends.
When everyone had gathered, Aunt Inla called for attention. “Time for gifts. Beth, you and Ruugar take the center seats.”
The expectant parents settled in matching chairs positioned to face the gathering. Beth’s cheeks glowed with happiness, and she rested her hand on her belly.
“I’ll go first.” Holly presented them with a beautifully wrapped package. “From Sel, Max, and me.”
Beth unwrapped it to reveal a handmade quilt, each square representing a different aspect of Lonesome Creek. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, tracing the stitching. “Look, Ruugar, there’s even a sorhox square.”
“Your youngling will always know where they belong,” Holly said.
One by one, gifts were opened, Beth squealing at both practical items like diapers and pacifiers to more personal offerings.
Hail and Allie gave them a set of pottery dishes designed specifically for a baby’s first foods.
Tark and Gracie presented a mobile crafted from miniature sorhoxes that would hang above the crib.
My heart hurt to be included in this special time in their lives.
But I found my gaze drawn to Becken. He stood slightly apart from the main group, his arms crossed on his chest. His eyes softened when Beth exclaimed over the gifts, and the corner of his mouth twitched up when Ruugar fumbled with delicate tissue paper.
When it was my turn, I handed over my wrapped package with an apologetic smile. “It’s not much.”
Beth unwrapped it to reveal a children’s book with illustrations of forest animals. “Oh, I love this.” She flipped through the pages. “The baby will need stories about our wonderful world. It’s lovely, thank you.” Her sincerity eased my earlier embarrassment.
Becken retrieved his gift and brought it over to her. “I made your youngling’s gift.”
Beth carefully unwrapped the brown paper to reveal a small wooden carving of a sorhox in a protective stance, its head lowered as if guarding something precious.
“In the orc kingdom, we place protective statues like this near younglings to ward off harm.”
“Becken.” Beth’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s beautiful.”
This grumpy, serious male had carved something with his own hands, filling it with meaning and tradition. My heart ached with emotion I couldn’t name.
Our eyes met across the room again, but the moment broke when Aunt Inla called for refreshments. I volunteered to help Jessi bring food from the kitchen, grateful for the chance to do something. The kitchen behind the saloon smelled of spices and cookies.
“You okay?” Jessi asked, loading a tray with thick, hearty sandwiches full of meats from orc kingdom beasts and cheese. “You seem distracted.”
“I’m just tired from tree hunting. It was a long day.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Her skeptical look told me she wasn’t fooled. “Nothing to do with the way you and Becken keep looking at each other, then?”
“We’re working together, that’s all.”
“If you say so.” She handed me a tray of cookies. “Though for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he does at you.”
The kitchen door swung open and Becken strode inside. “Aunt Inla sent me to help.” His eyes found mine immediately.
“Perfect timing.” Jessi shot me a knowing glance before loading Becken’s arms with the heaviest trays. “I’ll leave you two to manage these while I get the punch.”
She disappeared through the swinging door, leaving us alone in the suddenly too-small kitchen. The hum of conversation from the saloon seemed distant, muffled by the thundering of my pulse in my ears.
“How are you?” Becken asked.
“Good. Fine.” I busied myself arranging the cookies on the tray.
“You have tinsel in your hair.” He gently tugged it out.
Electricity raced down my spine. We both froze, caught in a moment that stretched between us like spun glass, fragile and shimmering.
His eyes darkened, and his throat worked as he swallowed.
I swayed toward him. “Becken, I—”
The kitchen door swung open again, and we sprang apart. Lavon entered, focused on a clipboard in his hands. “Jessi said you might need help with—” He looked up, taking in our flushed faces and awkward postures. “Ah. Perhaps not.”
“Hold the door for me, would you?” Becken said, striding past Lavon.
I followed him back to the saloon, my skin still tingling from where his fingers had brushed my hair.
The evening progressed, but I found it increasingly difficult to focus on the celebrations. My awareness of Becken dominated my senses, from where he stood, who he talked to, to whether he was looking my way.
After the gifts and food, the gathering shifted to storytelling and advice-giving. The women formed a circle around Beth, sharing wisdom about childbirth and child-rearing, though Holly, Aunt Inla, and Grannie Lil were the only ones with true experience.
“You’ll be here for the birth, right?” Holly turned to me.
“Oh, I…” The assumption startled me. “I’m not sure I’ll still be in town. My contract ends in a few days.”
Silence fell over the group, their faces registering disappointment.
“Surely you can extend your stay,” Aunt Inla said. “The baby isn’t due until mid-January.”
“I’d like to, but…” How could I explain that my entire adult life had been structured around moving on, never staying longer than a contract required?
“Well, we’ll just have to convince you,” Grannie Lil announced, her tone brooking no argument. “Can’t have you missing the first orc-human birth in Lonesome Creek. It’s historic.”
The conversation continued, but the moment left me unsettled. These women had incorporated me into their future plans, their community rituals. They spoke as if my presence was a given, not a temporary arrangement with a fixed endpoint.
And the most unsettling part? Part of me wanted to stay. Wanted to be here when Beth’s baby arrived. Wanted to see the town transition from winter to spring.
I wanted to explore whatever was growing between me and Becken.
As the evening wound down, I helped clear away wrapping paper and empty plates. The group gradually thinned, guests departing with hugs and well-wishes for Beth and Ruugar. Soon only a handful of us remained. Holly wiped down tables, Greel restocked the bar. Aunt Inla took down the decorations.
Becken stood near the base of the stairs that led to the hotel rooms above, watching me with that intense gaze that seemed to see through all my carefully constructed barriers.
I approached him, suddenly shy despite the connection we’d shared almost a week ago. “Heading up?”
He nodded. “You?”
“Yes. It’s been a long day.”
We stood at the bottom of the stairs, neither making a move. In the soft glow of the decorative lights, Becken’s features looked less harsh, more vulnerable.
My hand rested on the banister, inches from his. If I moved my fingers slightly, they would brush against his.
“Carla.” The way he said my name sent warmth roaring through me. “I—”
“Becken, could you help move the tables before you go?” Greel called from across the room.
Becken’s expression shuttered, a neutral mask sliding into place. “Of course.”
“Goodnight,” I said, starting up the stairs. “See you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” His eyes held mine before he turned away.
I climbed the stairs, feeling his gaze follow me until I started down the hall. Inside my room, I leaned against the closed door, my heart racing as if I’d run the entire way.
Watching Beth surrounded by people who genuinely cared about her future had made my chest ache in a way I wasn't prepared for.
I'd never had people who wanted to be part of my life beyond a contract's end.
I'd made sure of it. After my parents died and my aunt and uncle made it clear I was a burden they couldn't wait to shed, I'd learned that leaving first hurt less than being left behind.
Tonight, these women had talked about me being here for Beth's birth like it was inevitable, like I belonged.
But I only had a few days left in Lonesome Creek.
Then the contract would end, and I’d have to say goodbye.