Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
It didn’t take Hank long to fix the boiler. It was just old and cranky, much like the house itself. But it was a good house with good bones that held a lot of memories. He couldn’t imagine his parents living anywhere else, and he hoped his mother was only kidding when she’d asked about the new condos in town.
Or maybe if they really wanted a change they could move into town and he could take over the ranch. But that was ridiculous. He didn’t have the time. He barely had enough hours in the day to take care of his own business.
He put his tools away in the back of his truck and then got in, starting the engine and cranking the heat. He’d given Sophie time to cool off and think things over, and maybe she still didn’t want to see him. But he owed her an apology.
He drove away from the farmhouse, the big Christmas tree lighting up the front window. There had been enough snow that the road into town would have to be plowed again within another day or so. Even now the snow was swirling against his windshield and his wipers were working overtime.
There was no through traffic on O’Hara land since it was all private property, but there were still ranch hands and family members who’d be driving the treacherous roads, even on Christmas.
He breathed out a sigh of relief as he got off the one-lane road and onto the mountain road that led down to the town. Everything would be closed down on Christmas Eve except for The Lampstand. They always did scheduled seatings for a special Christmas Eve dinner.
But as he got closer to town he noticed something was different. Something was strange. The Christmas tree lights were on at the center of the rink, but there was a smoky haze that floated around it. And then he noticed all the people who were gathered and the pillar of black smoke spiraling into the sky.
He judged the distance from where he was and knew in his heart it was the bookstore that was on fire. He pulled into the parking lot of the condos and jumped out of the truck, not even sure if he’d turned the engine off. And then he ran across the street and up the hill toward the bookstore, cutting through the crowds of people who had gathered to watch.
The fire trucks had just arrived and were getting the hose connected to the nearest hydrant, but he only had eyes for Sophie. Someone must have called and told her about the fire, because it looked like she’d thrown a sweatshirt over her pajamas and slipped into her snow boots before running the two blocks to the store. She wasn’t even wearing a coat.
“Sophie,” he said, running up and taking her into his arms. He noticed a smudge of soot on her cheek and swiped at it with his thumb. “What happened? Are you okay?”
The look on her face was pure devastation. Her eyes were wide and glassy with shock.
“It’s gone. It’s all gone.”
He was going to tell her it would be all right. That the firemen would put it out and they’d salvage whatever they could. But one look at the inferno in front of him let him know that would be a lie.
All he could do was hold her close and watch as the third floor crashed into the second. And the second into the first. The firemen had put up blockades to keep people back, but he could feel her straining against him as tears coursed down her cheeks.
They stayed until the fire had been doused, and there was nothing left but smoldering heaps of wood and glass.
Hank talked to the fire marshal and then managed to get Sophie down to The Lampstand. His Aunt Simone was still there. She and Uncle Tommy and their kids didn’t show up for the celebration until Christmas Day.
“Bring her to the lounge,” Simone said when he and Sophie walked through the front door. The fire was the talk of the town and the smell of smoke had even permeated to the inside of the restaurant.
“I’m so sorry, Sophie,” Simone said, settling her in a chair. “I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. Maybe you should take her home.”
“The fire marshal wants to talk to her after he gets through,” Hank said. “I told him I’d bring her here instead of waiting out in the cold.”
“Let me get her some hot tea,” Simone said, leaving the room.
They sat in silence until Simone came back with a cup of hot tea and a thick blanket she’d found somewhere. She wrapped it gently around Sophie’s shoulders, gave Hank a pointed look, and then let herself back out.
“Why were you in town?” she finally asked.
“I was coming to see you,” he said. “I owe you an apology and I wanted to do it face-to-face. I’m sorry. And you were right. I’ve been working out solutions to your problems for weeks, trying to handle them for you. I guess part of me wanted to swoop in like a white knight and save the day. I made things harder on you. I’m sorry.”
She wrapped the blanket around her tighter and then wrapped her hands around the mug. “I ignored your calls and texts,” she said.
“I noticed.”
“I’m not sorry,” she said. “I had to do some things. Had to think. You were right about my dad. I am still angry. And I haven’t forgiven him. But yesterday I tried. I guess it’s going to be a while before it takes root.”
“I think that’s all right,” he said. “Getting started is the hardest part.”
“I wanted to answer your calls and texts,” she said. “I just couldn’t. There was too much swimming around in my brain. I needed space so I could think things through and process. I kind of lost it yesterday. I’m sorry for that. I’m a logical and rational person. I understand business and the way things work. And I’m not usually one to let emotions sway me.”
“I think you’re entitled considering,” he said.
“It’s gone,” she said, repeating the words she’d said while they’d been watching the bookstore burn.
“Yeah, it’s gone,” he said. “Now you have to figure out if you want to rebuild. But there’s time for that.”
“Insurance companies and adjusters,” she said. “I can’t wait. I guess if I’d sold it to you when you first asked this would be your problem instead of mine.”
“Did you just make a joke?” he asked.
She grimaced. “Obviously not a very good one.”
There was a knock on the door and it opened, revealing the fire marshal. Trent Sykes was a good man, and he’d been fire marshal since Hank had been a kid. He skimmed just under six feet and had thick salt-and-pepper hair and a handlebar mustache. He had a thick barrel chest and he was dressed in navy tactical pants and a matching button-down shirt.
“Hank,” he said, coming in and shaking hands before turning to Sophie. “I’m sorry about your store. I used to go there when your grandmamma ran it. I’ve got fond memories.”
“Me too,” she said. “It went up so fast. By the time I got there the whole place was a wall of fire. I couldn’t get inside to get anything out.”
“Looks like there was an electrical short in the wall,” Trent said. “Most likely there would’ve been nothing you could’ve done unless you were inside when it started. Electrical fires start in the walls, and that house is so old its wood was like a tinderbox. The fire ate it right up.”
Hank saw the defeat in Sophie’s eyes and wanted to take the pain away. But this was a battle that was hers to conquer.
“It’s going to be a couple of days at least before you can get in and see if anything is salvageable. There will be hot embers underneath that’ll take time to cool. But you can start taking pictures from the perimeter for insurance tomorrow. We’ll have it cordoned off for a while to keep people away.”
“Merry Christmas, huh,” Sophie said.
“Again, I’m sorry about this,” Trent said, handing her a card. “Give me a call if you have any questions.”
“Thanks, I will,” she said.
“Oh, I do have something for you I think you’ll want,” Trent said. “It’s outside. I didn’t think Ms. Simone would like me dragging it inside.”
“Come on,” Hank said, helping Sophie to her feet.
“I’m not sure I can take any more surprises tonight,” she said, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as they walked past the hostess stand and back outside.
But her steps slowed as she saw the round stained-glass window leaning against the side of the building. The wood was charred around the edges and there was soot on the glass, but it was intact.
“How?” she asked.
“Beats the heck out of me,” Trent said. “It had a long way to fall. But they made things built to last back in the day. Your grandma told me the story once of where it came from, but I can’t remember.”
“The Soviet Union,” she said, still unable to take her eyes off the glass. “My great-grandfather was stationed there and made friends with one of the local glassmakers. It was a gift after the war was over.”
“I thought it was something like that,” Trent said. “Well, I’m glad it lasted.”
“Thank you,” she said, grabbing his hand before he could leave. “Truly. This means more than you could know.”
Trent nodded and said, “Remember to reach out if you need anything. We take care of our own here in Laurel Valley.”
“Yeah,” she said. “You do.” And she realized she meant it.
The last weeks had been eye opening in more ways than one. She had a community she belonged in. Where she was loved. Where her business was loved. Even now, she saw locals watching the ruins from the sidelines with tears in their eyes.
She looked up at Hank and couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried. Maybe sometime before her father died. But the tears came in a hot torrent down her cheeks and there was nothing she could do to keep the dam from breaking.
“There you go,” Hank said, pulling her into an embrace. “That’s the best thing you can do. Don’t try to stop it.”
She didn’t know how long they stood like that on the sidewalk. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if people stared or walked around them, and she’d later find it ironic that this was the same street where she and Hank had danced only a couple of days before. Now she was crying in his arms.
“I’m fine,” she said, hiccupping against his chest. “I’m okay.”
“I know you are,” he said. “But you’re going to have a heck of a crying hangover come morning.”
“Thanks for letting me cry on you,” she said, using the blanket to wipe her eyes.
“That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “There’s nothing more that can be done tonight. Why don’t we get out of here?”
She looked down at her clothes and said, “You sure you don’t want to stay for Christmas Eve dinner?”
“Wow,” Hank said. “You’ve made two jokes tonight. I’m speechless.”
“Apparently I’m one of those people who makes jokes at inappropriate times,” she said. “I hear the words coming out of my mouth, but I can’t seem to help myself.”
“We’ll chalk it up to the trauma,” he said, letting her go so he could pick up the stained-glass window. “My truck is across the street.”
“Good,” she said. “I’d like you to take me somewhere if you don’t mind. And I’d prefer not to go alone.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding. “Anywhere you want to go.”
“Take the mountain pass,” Sophie said once Hank had helped her into the truck.
He’d had a tarp in the back of the truck and had wrapped the window carefully before getting in beside her.
He didn’t say anything at her request. He just looked at her solemnly and nodded. There was only one reason to take the mountain pass.
“It should still be open,” he said. “The snow hasn’t gotten bad enough to shut it down yet.”
The roads were empty. The people who were up at the resorts were doing whatever families did on Christmas Eve and not out traversing mountain roads.
“Here,” Sophie said as they approached a steep S-curve. “There’s a turnout up ahead if you can pull off the road.”
“I see it,” he said, pulling the truck into the turnout.
It was a beautiful spot, Sophie thought. In the daylight the view would have been towering firs and the ruggedness of the mountains. But at night there was just darkness as the snow swirled in the beam of the headlights.
“When I left you on the park bench the other day, I went home and really tried to get some things in focus. I already told you about starting the process of forgiving my dad for driving off this mountain, in this very spot. I was so embarrassed. It wasn’t bad enough that everyone knew he was the town drunk. But him going out in such a way put a spotlight on it.
“There were people who used him as a warning for their own kids. You don’t want to end up like Mitch Jacobs. But while I was sitting on the couch, staring at the lights on the Christmas tree you’d put up for me, I realized it was so much more than that one singular event that shaped how I am now.
“I always chalked it up to that moment, but in reality, I can’t remember a time when I knew my father where he wasn’t a drunk. For the most part he was affable enough, but there were times he lost his temper. If Mom was there it would be directed at her. And if she wasn’t…”
“It would be directed at you,” Hank said, feeling helpless and angry for the child she’d been.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “But never at Junie and that’s what was most important to me. As we got older everyone learned to just stay out of the way. It worked for the most part. But I realized as I was trying to sort things out that those are the things that made me feel like only I could get things done. That the only person I could rely on was myself. I love my mother dearly, but she was in no place to be the anchor I needed in the storm. And Junie. We were only two years apart in age but it might as well have been ten. She lived in a different world. Even at a young age her dream was to get married and be rich. So she made sure everything about herself would appeal to that type of man. And she succeeded. I’m glad for her. I’ve always only wanted what was best for her.”
“What about what was best for you?” he asked.
“I never wanted marriage or family. I never wanted friends or community, even though I look back now and can see I’ve had them all along. Raven…she was my best friend growing up. And all these years she’s always made the effort to talk to me. Check on me. Make sure things were going well. I’ve been a bad friend.”
“Knowing Raven like I do, she doesn’t keep score,” Hank said. “But you’ve got time to make it up to her.”
Sophie’s lips curved. “I’ve distanced myself. And I’ve occupied myself with projects. First it was business school and then running the bookstore and changing everything I could to make it more profitable for Mom before she retired.”
“You did a good job,” he said. “You succeeded.”
“Not enough,” she said. “But the hope kept me busy. I realized yesterday that the control and anxiety and all these other things are actually out of my control. And weirdly enough, there was such a sense of peace that came down over me in that moment. I can’t describe it. But I knew in that moment I had to let it all go. Isn’t that part of forgiveness? I not only had to forgive my dad, but also myself and my mother. I realized those chains of control and anxiousness and aloneness can be broken. It’s not complete. But like you said, the process has started. And it’s opened my eyes to other things.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the snow swirl and listening to the hush of the mountain.
“Can I ask you something?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.
“Always,” he said.
“Today’s not been the best of days.” She looked at him and saw the love and compassion in his eyes. How long had he looked at her like that? Why hadn’t she noticed sooner?
“I imagine it hasn’t,” he said patiently.
“But when I looked at that window that had miraculously survived, a piece of my history and family, I felt hope.”
“There’s always hope,” he said.
“Would you help me rebuild?” she asked softly. “Not because of what that particular building was. But because rebuilding is going to give the same hope to my children and grandchildren as that stained-glass window did for me.”
“You’re planning on children and grandchildren?” he asked, arching a brow.
“How could I not?” she asked. “When they’d get the opportunity to grow up here and be part of something special.”
“Those kids would be pretty lucky,” he agreed. “They’d come from two strong family lines. Survivors. Hard workers. Innovators. That’s the American dream.”
She nodded and turned her hand over so she could grasp his. “I’d love to build that with you.”