30. Haven
Chapter Thirty
Haven
The Raspberry Jamboree is pure nostalgia from my childhood.
I don’t argue with Cash when he insists on driving us. At the end of the night, I’m going to tell him that I want to go back to my apartment. But I’ll wait until after Zane and Hope go back to the ranch, their wedding officially over.
Until that point, I’m letting myself just be happy for them, and be swept along in the revelry.
Even seeing that New Harvest has a tent in the community section of the fair, right between the 4-H display and the army recruiters, doesn’t put a damper on the celebration.
I pay them no attention as we follow the happy couple through the fairground to the barn at the far end, where they’ll have their first official dance as husband and wife.
I’m filled with a bittersweet happiness for Hope and Zane, who are drawing all sorts of attention, and getting many congratulations. And underneath that joy is a quiet bruise, the ache loving Cash, who won’t love me back.
It’s not that he can’t. It’s that he won’t let himself. And he hasn’t made any effort to explain that choice to me.
I’ve spent three days trying to be at peace with the fact that he’s locked tight, and I need to let him go.
Deep down, I think he does love me, but until he’s able to say it, I need to remove myself from his bed.
The way he holds me at night, the way he makes me feel like the most important person in the whole world…that might have been enough before seeing his brother be so emotional to exchange vows with Hope.
I want that.
I want that with Cash, but…he’s not there.
He made that clear from the beginning, and I just lost sight of it for a while. His only options for me were bodyguard or fake boyfriend. He never offered his heart.
I just got greedy.
As we enter the barn, Dax heads straight for the band. This must be pre-arranged, because the musicians take the song down to a background level, and the singer says, “Please welcome to the dance floor for the first time as husband and wife, Zane and Hope Kincaid.”
Whispers swirl through the room almost as loud as the scattered applause, but then Ridge hollers a loud whoop and the crowd takes the hint, cheering as Zane pulls Hope to the centre of the dance floor.
I watch them until the crowd crushes in, and then I turn away—only to find Cash watching me. Something moves across his face. He tips his chin, giving me permission I don’t need, telling me to go dance.
But not with him.
I jerk my gaze back to the centre of the barn, my cheeks blazing.
I do want to dance tonight, and if not with him, then…with anyone. With the next man who appears in front of me, who happens to be Jasper Lane.
“Haven,” he says with a ready grin. “You came in with the Kincaids. Were you in on the secret?”
“Your sister didn’t tell you about it?”
He holds out his hand. “Dance with me, and I’ll tell you all the ways my sister tells me almost nothing at all.”
I pause a split second.
He lowers his voice. “Cash is watching. You might as well make him jealous.”
“A spectacular idea,” I say brightly.
He spins me onto the floor.
“Trouble in paradise?”
I shrug. “Since when is Dragonfly Creek any kind of paradise?”
He chuckles. “Spoken exactly like a Kincaid.”
“Why doesn’t Mercy tell you secrets?”
“She thinks I’m a buzzkill.”
“Are you?”
“Probably.” He presses his hand in the small of my back, pulling me closer. “I didn’t think barn dances were your thing.”
“That was foolish on my part. They’re quite a lot of fun.”
“They are.”
Jasper is an excellent dancer, just like his sister. I am not, but I am getting better, and the line between good dancer and woman-who-is-simply-not-afraid-anymore is thinner than I thought.
After Jasper, I dance with Dax, then Callum Kerr shows up, having changed out of his clerical outfit, and he’s talking to Luna when Dax claims his mother for a dance.
“You look like a cowboy, Reverand,” I say as we watch Luna and Dax twirl away.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I tip my head back and laugh. “Would you like to dance?”
“I’m not very good, I’ll warn you.”
“Oh, I’m terrible,” I promise him.
And it’s true, with an inexperienced partner, I’m not fantastic, but we manage, and we laugh a lot, which is a different kind of fun.
As the song comes to an end, I’m about to suggest we go to find a drink, because we don’t need to struggle through another dance, when Cash appears in front of us.
He says my name, low enough in the loud barn that it’s just for me.
I nod. “Excuse me, Reverend.”
Mercy is already pulling Callum onto the floor herself, leaving Cash and me in a bubble of our own. He wraps his arms around me, closer than dancing requires.
I can’t push him away. I don’t want to.
“You look good dancing with Kerr,” he says quietly.
“I stepped on his toes repeatedly.”
“I know for a fact that can be the highlight of someone’s entire week.”
I meet his eyes. Both of us are thinking about that night on the mountaintop. I want to say if only that were enough. Because it almost is. Knowing that’s how he feels is almost everything.
But it doesn’t match how I feel about him, and the gulf is too painful to think about. Definitely too painful to fight about.
So instead I just say, “I’m glad we’re getting a chance to dance.”
He looks at me for a long moment. Then he pulls me closer and rests his chin against my temple.
In his arms, I’m an excellent dancer. In his arms, I feel beautiful.
I could stay there all night, but for my heart’s sake, I’m glad it’s only one song before Zane slings his arm around his brother’s shoulder and announces that his bride wants cake and his new daughter wants pie.
“Are you team cake or team pie?” Mercy asks, pulling me away from Cash as we approach the baked goods tent. Ridge is following her at a loose distance, and Cash falls back, joining his oldest brother.
I only glance back once before surging ahead. “Team tart.”
“Oooh, good choice.” She lowers her voice. “Sorry for pulling you away from Cash, but I need moral support right now.”
I squeeze her arm. “Always. And it’s fine, Cash and I don’t need to be glued at the hip.”
“I know, but then I see the way he looks at you, and I feel bad. Just for a second, of course.”
I laugh weakly, but her observation makes my heart squeeze, because I wish that how Cash gazed at me was as real as she imagines it is. He plays the part of a fake boyfriend a little too well.
Inside the large tent there are two things happening at once, a contest and vendor tables selling individual pieces.
It’s chaotic, and I’m trying to keep Zane and Hope in sight, which is harder than I expect.
There are a lot of tall cowboys looking for some food before getting back to the dancing—or the beer tent.
I give up trying to go through the middle of the crowd, and I cut over to the contest tables, only to come face to face with Kaitlyn Pelley.
Recognition flickers deep in the teenager’s eyes.
I force a smile as I take in her Junior baking judge badge. “Hello.”
She clutches something tight to her chest, a notebook, and she gives me the tiniest of nods.
I recognize her perfect posture, her composed face as she masks her thoughts.
It’s the same careful performance I used to give.
And I, too, always have a notebook or a novel on hand.
They’re convenient to escape into. It’s a shame she’s been taught to hate me, because we’re more similar than different.
A small, private ache pulses in my chest as I step around her and pretend to look at the cakes on display before I escape into the crowd again.
But after I manage to get a raspberry tart, I find myself looking back at the girl. She’s carefully making notes in her book about each cake. And she looks…lonely.
That’s what made me look back, I tell myself. I recognize myself in her, that’s all.
Except I keep looking at her notebook. It bothers me, and it’s not until she reaches the officials table and tears a sheet from it, handing over her notes, that I realize what I recognize about it.
There’s a leaf on the back cover. I saw it when she clutched it to her chest.
I’ve seen that leaf before.
It’s probably in the corner of the sheet she just handed over. And I’d bet this tart in my hand that it’s neatly perforated along one edge, because the sheet came away smoothly when she ripped it from her book.
On auto pilot, I cross the tent as swiftly as I can, watching and waiting until the person holding the sheet of paper is finished with it and sets it down.
And then I swipe it.
My second criminal act of the week. At this rate, I’ll be getting a tattoo in no time.
I shove it into a secret pocket in my dress. There’s no time to look at it right now, because Kaitlyn is beelining for the exit and I need to follow her.
But I know that I’m going to recognize her handwriting before I even look at it. The paper is exactly the same weight and colour as the notes left for me and Cash.
I resist the urge to call out her name. I don’t want to make a scene.
And I’m still processing what this means.
It makes sense why we wouldn’t have found her handwriting in the church registry I stole from my uncle’s office. Two years ago, she was fourteen, and if she did write something in it, her handwriting would look younger, more juvenile than it does now.
A girl grows up a lot between fourteen and sixteen.
Even in the shelter of an oppressive church, she can get some peculiar ideas, about everything from penmanship to community values to…jealousy.
Could she have a crush on Cash?
Outside the tent, I see her talking to her mother.
Not wanting to confront her in front of someone who might be hostile, I slow down and pull the piece of paper out of my pocket as I take a bite of the raspberry tart. The handwriting on her benignly ranked list of cakes is identical to the vitriolic messages left for Cash and myself.
Oh, Kaitlyn.
The tart goes tasteless in my mouth.
I don’t feel angry. She’s a child, raised by people who have been marinating in contempt for me for years. She absorbed their lies, thinking they were true.
If anything, I’m frightened for her.
Cash’s name rises in my throat, an automatic reflex. But I can’t go to him for help on this.
This requires careful intervention, not ferocious confrontation. His growl, his presence, his protective fury, all of it would crash down on this girl and have rippling consequences I can’t predict.
But I can find grace here.
I slip into the shadows and wait for her to be alone again.