Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
R ose made her last stop at Hanover Hardware for more batteries and lamp oil.
She tried to tamp down her anger, but was certain it radiated from her.
Mr. Hanover rang her up with only a few minutes of conversation.
Smokie, the horror cat, looked better. Fresh sprouts of dark fur appeared in patches.
His eyes still held menace and mistrust, but neither oozed.
She got the phone call when she started her car.
“Hindley’s out,” said Mack. “Someone paid his bail last night.”
“Reggie texted me. Thank you Mack. I appreciate the both of you.”
Debris kicked up around her vehicle as she navigated her way home.
The rain began as she parked by the last cottage.
It was closest to Briar House’s kitchen door.
She took her purchases inside, then pulled more wood into the house and onto the porch.
Wind gusted as she fought to secure a tarp around the pile to keep it dry.
The power went out after she changed into dry clothing and brushed her hair. A text from the company predicted at least six hours before it would come back, maybe longer. Within minutes, she’d placed candles, lanterns, and flashlights in a few of the house’s rooms. Outside, the sky darkened.
A glance at her phone told her she still had cell service, but no Wi-Fi. She checked the security app. The cameras powered by solar still ran despite the slashing rain. The one on the front door displayed nothing, having been wired to the house.
Without power and heat, she had to be practical.
Losing both was inconvenient, but the wind worried her more.
Sticks and leaves were already hitting the house.
The surrounding trees—Magnolia said their strength lay in their numbers.
Despite that, Rose didn’t dare risk sleeping in her old room on the third floor.
The library. It would be the best room to wait out the storm and the warmest place to sleep. Before she lost natural light, she carried her pillows, blankets, and some firewood into the library. She’d light a fire once the sun set.
Back in the kitchen, she washed her hands, then sliced a loaf of rustic bread and put some on a plate.
She pulled peanut butter from the pantry and jam from the refrigerator.
A bottle of red wine sat on the counter.
Who said peanut butter and red wine didn’t go together?
She should add some chocolate to the tray for her picnic dinner, and an apple.
Her phone rang.
It was Broome. He didn’t waste words. “The cameras won’t last long with the storm there. I’ll come get you. You can stay with us.”
A sense of unease slipped in with his words. It had been a severe storm that took their parents. People needed to stay off the roads, minimize the risk of accidents.
“You’re not driving in this storm,” she said.
From the sound of the wind and the flutter of debris hitting the house, there would be problems on the road with fallen trees.
Broome cursed. “I talked to Mack. I don’t like that Hindley’s out.”
“Neither do I, but you can’t keep everyone in bubble wrap.”
“Believe me, I know, but?—”
“I’ll be okay.” She forced confidence into her tone. “All the doors are locked. All windows latched. I checked the cameras when I got home. The solar ones are still going.”
“Rose…”
“Broome.”
After more back and forth, he agreed to stay off the road.
With a sigh, she hung up and pulled a knife from a drawer.
A hard knock came at the kitchen door. She yelped. The knife clattered to the floor. She picked it back up.
What if it was George? Her gut screamed.
He’d tacked that poem to the door of the main house.
She couldn’t prove it, but instinct said it was him.
The brave speech she’d delivered to Broome sounded hollow now.
She stiffened when the knock came again until she heard her name said by a familiar voice.
With relief, she opened the door to Finn. And threw herself at him. Damp leaves whirled in.
“Stop. I’m soaked.” Finn said, his words muffled against her until she stepped back.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“I got the next few days off,” he said. “I heard about Hindley getting out. I’m worried.” His cold fingers cupped her face. He kissed her with chilly lips then removed his rain jacket and shoes.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll be fine—I grew up here, remember?” More hollow bravery. Her fear howled through the seams of the door.
“I know,” he said.
“I’m all set. I’ve got batteries, oil lamps, and firewood.”
“What if I also said I’m here because I’d love to be trapped in a storm with you?”
“Hmm,” she glanced sideways at him. He was kind of adorable, wind-blown and damp, his words romantic. “Would you like to join me in the library? I’m having a picnic.”
His eyes sparked mischief. “What kind of picnic?”
“A crackling fire, blankets, some nudity now that you’re here. I’m planning to sleep in there. I even have snacks and sandwiches.”
“So you’re part of the picnic?”
With a little laugh, she smiled and moved away from him. She flipped her hair back and beckoned him with a come hither motion. “Why don’t you lock that side door, follow me, and find out?”
His steps creaked on the floor behind her. His voice carried. “I’ve always wanted to do naughty things to you in the library.”
F inn lay on his back, on top of the makeshift bed Rose had created in front of the fireplace. The fire had burned itself out, leaving the surrounding air chilled, but warmth radiated from Rose, who lay nestled against him, still asleep.
A hint of daylight outlined the library’s drapes while the storm continued outside. Something hit the side of the house, a large branch probably. It was too distinct to be anything else.
He’d known about the approaching storm yesterday and assumed he’d be at the hospital in Asheville for the duration.
The phone call from Mack between patients sent fear down his spine, for Rose.
On a night when Evers Hollow would be rife with local emergencies, George Hindley had been released on bail.
Finn knew little about the legal system, but even he knew this shouldn’t have happened given the man’s past crimes.
If trees came down and blocked the highway, it would be a challenge to get to Rose if she sent out a call for help. That scared him.
Thankfully, Dr. Walters had been in the staff locker room during his phone call with Mack.
Finn hadn’t minced words about his concern over the line.
The chief resident overheard his side of the conversation and asked questions.
Once Dr. Walters ordered him to leave, Finn wasted no time driving up here.
Rose stirred against him, her cascade of dark curls brushing over his arm and shoulder, as she shifted and nuzzled into him. She pressed her lips to his chest, murmuring, “Morning.”
“The wind’s died a bit.” He ran a hand down her back, enjoying the feel of warm skin beneath his palm. She shifted more, sat up, and ran one hand through her tousled hair. “There’s going to be a lot of cleanup.”
There would be, all over town. They got up. He slipped on his jeans and rebuilt the fire.
She commandeered the t-shirt he’d worn last night and pulled it over her head. It hung loose on her, barely covering her bare ass. Her unbound hair flowed well past her shoulders.
The rain had eased some, but still fell.
Rose opened the drapes, but the dark clouds and continued lack of power kept the room dim.
Lit candles sat on the two desks in the library, away from the surrounding bookshelves.
They reminded him of one of her books, the candles Ms. Tess had helped them make on another rainy day.
They’d told her it was for a school project, but they’d also wanted to use them to explore the caves farther into the woods where they found a mystery.
Finn helped ferry breakfast from the kitchen into the library. Seated across from each other on blankets, they ate cinnamon muffins and pieces of fruit. Rose had boiled water on the kitchen’s gas stove, and made coffee using a French press.
In between muffin bites, he said, “Thorne came by my apartment a few days ago.”
“Why?”
“He brought me your books.”
She stilled.
“He ordered me to read them.”
She looked away. Her fingers were already in her hair, twisting the strands. “I didn’t know he was going to do that.”
“They’re fantastic books, Rose,” he said. “Made me feel like a kid again. Made me remember how we used to be. Criminy Mysteries.”
“Inseparable adorables, according to your mom.” She looked back at him, apology in her eyes. “I figured you knew. Thought someone told your pa. This is Evers Hollow.”
Finn shrugged. “He doesn’t read much. Why didn’t you tell me about them?”
“Are you mad?”
He set his coffee down on the nearby hearth. “Why would you think that?”
“I never asked your permission.” She looked down, her other hand twisted the hem of the t-shirt she’d borrowed.
He moved closer, grasped her shoulders. “Look at me.”
She did, shifting in her seat as if she were in trouble.
He slid a hand to the side of her neck, tilting her head toward his. “I’m not Jed. You’re not Ruby.”
She shook her head. “But?—”
He kissed her. “You wrote fictional stories for children based on us. Brilliant, but it’s not the same.”
Before she could argue, he added, “Besides, Ruby is bossy. Jed is smarter than me, braver.”
Her eyes flashed. “Ruby is not bossy.”
He’d hit a nerve. He couldn’t resist. “Is too.”
“She is not.”
Suddenly, he found himself on his back, her atop him. He tensed as she dug her fingers into his sides in what he assumed was an attempt to tickle him. He resisted, grinning as he ruffled her hair. “She is. I like it. Your ideas, you always had them. I envied that.”
She propped herself up, planting her hands on his bare chest. “You had ideas too, plenty of them.”
He grimaced, shifting beneath her. “Small ones. The biggest one I had got you a broken arm.”
One of his hands moved; his thumb ran over the slightly raised scar on the outside of her arm, where her bones once pierced her flesh. Her fingers traced the scars on his right hand.
She lowered her head. Her lips brushed his ear, her voice an intimate whisper. “Do you think I would have let you climb that tree without me?”
“No, but it was my idea,” he said. “I’ll never forget your scream when you fell.”
“You were bleeding too. You could have run, escaped the raven.”
He remembered his fear, trying to protect her from the angry bird. “What kind of person leaves his best friend? That scream of yours had to bring someone.”
“You were my hero that day.” She gave him a brief kiss. “My scream brought Chelsea’s Aunt Norah. She thought someone had been murdered.”
He rolled with her then, nestling himself between her thighs, wishing he’d removed his jeans. “Her cards foretold it along with the raven.”
“At least she had one of those flip cell phones.” Her fingers toyed with his hair.
The clanking bracelets Aunt Norah wore along her arms had announced her presence. Magnifying glasses perched on top of her head made her look like an absentminded professor instead of the mystic she preferred.
Rose giggled against him. “Remember her incantation, the way she waved her arms?”
He nodded.
In a somber tone, she lifted both arms and said, “Begone, you Stygian beast!”
“You’re fucking adorable.” He caught her hands and pressed them to the blankets over her head.
He hovered over her, their mouths mere inches apart.
Her large eyes, the hint of a smile on her defiant chin, was all he saw.
This woman was it for him. He could already imagine a life with her, children with dark curls and her energy running around.
“I love you like this—tousled, beautiful, and wearing my t-shirt.”
She blushed beneath his gaze.
He kissed her, melding his lips with hers. He wanted her again, to lose himself within her, preferably while she was still wearing his shirt.
Easing back, he played his fingers over her flesh, from the tips of her fingers to her inner thighs and then between. The way her body arched into his touch was a thing of beauty.
When at last he was within her and she fell apart in his arms, he couldn’t hold back from speaking the truth against her ear. “I love you.”