Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Poppy
A week later, Poppy rubbed her damp hands on her denim-covered butt. She hadn’t seen Thom since the night of the bonfire, and his text message late last night asking her to meet him at Solstice Deep after work the next day was a surprise.
After complete radio silence for days-that-felt-like-months, it was obvious they were over—what could he have to say? Then again, maybe they should meet and clear the air… They were both living in the same small town, it would be super awkward if they couldn’t greet or talk to each other.
Poppy rested her forehead against Solstice Deep’s front door—she didn’t feel comfortable using the kitchen entrance—and gently banged her head against the solid wood.
Man, had she missed his deep voice, his scent, the solidity he represented.
His steady nature, his big brain, the way he made coffee, the way he loved her…
Thom was her first love, and the man she suspected would be her only, and last, true love.
But love couldn’t be demanded, it couldn’t be forced, and if he wasn’t ready, for her or anyone else, there was nothing she could do to change his mind.
Maybe, in time, they could find their way back to friendship, but right now, they needed time to get used to living apart and having minimal contact.
And that was why she was surprised by his request to come to Solstice Deep…
Poppy winced at the icy wind blowing off the lake; the weather had turned colder, and the days shorter.
With the light rapidly fading, it would soon be dark on this porch, and when the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the temperature would drop even further.
She had two choices: knock on the door and see what he wanted, or make the cold walk back down to her cottage on the other side of H-Town.
Devil and the deep blue sea…
She lifted her hand but before she could knock, the door opened, and Felony jumped, his paws landing on her chest and causing her to stagger backward.
Thom grabbed her arm to steady her, told him to get down, but Fel launched himself at her again.
This time, Poppy was ready, and she gathered him close, her arms around his back legs as she staggered inside.
Felony rested his head on her shoulder and pressed his cold nose into her neck.
“What’s this about, boy?” Poppy crooned. Thom closed the door behind her, and she lowered herself and the dog to the floor. Felony sat in her lap, his head on her shoulder.
Poppy looked up at Thom, looming over them, his hands on his hips and a deep scowl on his face. “He’s pining for you,” he explained. “He’s barely eating, and he won’t have anything to do with me.”
Poppy stroked Fel from his head to his tail, and he groaned in delight. “Hey, bud, you have to eat,” she crooned. She kissed his snout. “Want a cookie?”
Fel’s head shot up, and he bolted up, standing on Poppy’s legs before using her as a launchpad to run to the kitchen. Poppy winced, rubbed her thighs, then smiled. “I think he wants a cookie,” she deadpanned.
Thom held out his hand, and Poppy allowed him to pull her to her feet, before quickly pulling her hand out of his.
It was hard enough to be here, touching him made it worse.
She walked to the kitchen and into the pantry, instantly finding the box of dog biscuits that were Fel’s favorite treat.
After making him sit, she handed him one.
After he’d gulped it down, now bright-eyed and tail wagging—pity Thom hadn’t given her the same reaction—she pointed to his dog bowl full of kibble and told him to eat.
Felony attacked the food as if he were a prisoner who’d given up his hunger strike.
Satisfied, she looked at Thom, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms folded and a small smile on his face. “Did you call me over here to get him to eat?” she asked.
“No, but it’s a bonus.” Thom shook his head at his dog, who’d inhaled his kibble. Felony looked at his empty bowl, then at Thom, his expression demanding more. Thom shook his head. “No, you’ll get a stomachache if you eat too much. I’ll give you more later.”
Felony was the only dog she knew that could frown. He turned his “feed me, I’m starving, and it’s your fault for leaving” face to her, but she shook her head. “He’s the boss, dude.”
Felony released a short, angry bark and turned his back on both of them. To highlight his anger, he released a long, noxious fart that had Poppy and Thom immediately exiting the kitchen.
In the hallway, they blinked, their eyes smarting. “That dog is a psychopath,” Thom muttered, pulling the band of his Henley, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, up over his nose.
Poppy coughed and blinked. “He’s something,” she agreed.
Thom dropped his shirt and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at the ceiling and then at the floor, and Poppy could tell he wanted to say something.
“Why did you ask me here, Thom?”
His eyes met hers, and she saw a hint of fear in the pewter, but also determination. And courage. What was he up to? “Will you come upstairs with me?” he asked. “I’ve got something to show you.”
Poppy looked at the hand he held out and shook her head.
Disappointment flashed across his face, but he gestured for her to lead the way.
Poppy slowly climbed the stairs. Somewhere above her, a door slammed, and the sound of heavy boots on the wooden floorboards drifted down from the third floor.
“Have the ghosts been behaving themselves?” she asked.
He shrugged, for once not making a sarcastic ghosts-don’t-exist retort.
That was progress. Poppy looked down, breathed deep and sensed the lighter-than-normal air, the increase in the temperature within the house.
It felt like the ghosts were more relaxed, at ease.
Interesting. She looked up and caught a flicker of movement on the third-floor landing.
Yep, they had an audience, three of them if she wasn’t mistaken.
She waved at them. “Hi, guys,” she called.
A quick blast of cold air whirled around her, and she knew it was their way of acknowledging her presence. She glanced at Thom, expecting to see him rolling his eyes, but he looked … accepting. As if he’d come to terms with sharing his house with the spirits.
It was a good thing because she didn’t think they were going anywhere anytime soon.
On the second-floor landing, Poppy stopped, and Thom directed her to climb the second set of stairs.
On the next landing, he brushed past her and led her down the narrow passage to her childhood bedroom at the end of the corridor.
She watched him take a deep breath and open the door, gesturing for her to walk into the room before he did.
He flipped the light switch and warm light flooded the dark corners of the room.
Poppy stepped inside, and she tipped her head to miss the low eave. As she walked further into the room, it opened up, and she instinctively looked toward the window; she’d missed the view from here. But it was dark outside, and she could see very little of the lake.
Turning, she leaned her butt on the desk pushed under the windowsill, and looked at Thom, who’d jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. His shoulders were up around his ears, and he looked uncomfortable. “What did you want to show me?” she asked.
He gestured with his head, and Poppy looked to the right, and her jaw dropped open.
He’d covered the whole wall with a map of H-Town, the one she’d drawn for the tourism board.
At scale, she could see the finer details that were lost on the smaller version, the hands of the town’s clock, the intricate lacework of the iron bandstand, the individual cobbles in the Old Quarter, the names on the kayaks resting on the shore of Lantern Beach.
It looked fabulous…
But why had he blown it up and papered the wall of this room with it? “I don’t understand,” she said.
Thom opened a desk drawer and pulled out a folder. He flipped it open and handed her a set of stickers. She took them, shrugged. “I still don’t understand,” she said.
Thom smiled, took the stickers back, his eyes scanning the sheet, eventually choosing a sticker of a small girl with blonde hair in two braids. He placed it on the rocks that formed the shore break to Solstice Deep.
“I first saw you here, you were wearing yellow shorts and a pink top, your hair in braids,” he said, placing the sticker of the young girl matching that description on the rocks. Poppy’s mind raced. Had he had these stickers commissioned?
Thom tapped the swing hanging from an oak tree next to the bandstand.
He peeled back another sticker, this time the blonde child was wearing a pink and white polka-dot shirt and blue jeans, and he placed her on the swing, her arms positioned so that it looked like her hands were holding the chains.
Poppy covered her mouth with her hands as Thom placed a sticker of a red-headed boy, wearing a too-big T-shirt and shorts, standing behind her, pushing her.
What was he doing? Recreating their past? But … why?
Thom placed a sticker of her and Wren playing dolls on Blackweather Green, while two boys who could only be him and Hayes threw a frisbee behind them. On the lawn of Solstice Deep, he placed a sticker of him throwing a baseball to her, her hand covered by his too-big glove.
Poppy’s eyes flickered between him and the wall. When his eyes met hers, he managed a small smile and continued to cover her map with stickers, each one representing a memory, some of which she remembered, some she’d forgotten, both she and Thom progressing in age.