Chapter 21 #2
He nodded. “Yeah. I looked up to him so much. But things got a little rough, around my parents’ divorce.
It was no one’s fault, really. But I think Brae was angry.
Started butting heads with my dad. My dad’s great, but he’s stubborn—and so is Brae.
He was never going to take over the family business and I knew it, but it still kind of broke my heart when he left town.
He went out west. He works with Parks Canada now as a wildfire specialist. He’s out in Kootenay this year and we just chatted last night—we try to talk every week.
He won’t be back until Christmas, but he’s doing great.
Loves it out there.” He paused. “I miss him, though. I really do. He struggled for a bit, just trying to figure out who he was and who he wanted to be, I guess. Getting himself sorted seemed to need to involve getting as far away from here as possible.”
“When meanwhile, if there’s anything I know for sure, it’s that being here is good,” Rebecca said, the words slipping out before she could think about them too much, her heart racing now not because of proximity to Cort but because she had admitted a truth to him she had never said aloud.
And, despite her nerves, she found there were more words that wanted to come out.
“I thought I had to run away, too. To outrun the ghost of the mother I never really had. To live a big enough life that I wouldn’t feel that absence anymore.
But it turns out that wherever you go, you take yourself with you, you know?
I can’t outrun something I’m carrying inside. ”
Cort held her gaze for a long moment. “Do you ever think about staying?”
She felt caught by the intensity of his eyes, and it was a familiar feeling.
The room felt warm, her pulse felt skittish.
It unsettled her, how after all this time, being around Cort Adams still felt as natural as breathing—and as dangerous as skydiving.
The truth was, she had thought about staying.
She was slipping into a rhythm here, one she’d almost forgotten but hadn’t ever really lost. But she couldn’t stay in Bramley Hollow, so what was the point in admitting the thought had crossed her mind?
She just shook her head, and as she did, his cell phone rang.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s Pip, I have to…
“Hey, buddy, what’s up?” She watched as his brow furrowed with concern. “No, I hadn’t checked the weather. I had no idea. Okay, I’m heading home right now. I’ll get the blankets and tarps. Yes, and the heater. I’ll call you later with an update.”
He hung up and turned to her. “We’re having a giant pumpkin emergency,” he said.
“Ah yes, you mentioned your giant pumpkin the other day, and how high-maintenance they are to grow.”
He nodded. “Exactly. And I didn’t realize it, but the temperature is dropping fast tonight.
Pip keeps a closer eye on the weather than I do.
By the time the sun goes down, there might even be some frost. Which is a disaster for a giant pumpkin, not to mention the hot peppers that are still out there. ”
“What can you do to protect them?”
“I need to cover them all up fast, with blankets, tarps. Then I rig a lamp under there to trap some heat. And then I stay outside with it all night and make sure it doesn’t get too cold.”
“Sounds like you’ve been through this before.”
His smile was wry. “Every year.”
“Do you need some help?”
“Actually, do you mind? Melanie’s going to bring Pip back so he can see that everything’s okay—normally we don’t do that, but during pumpkin season, all bets are off. I think he’d feel better if I had things well in hand before he got there.”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
—
The autumn night was clear, stars scattered across the velvet sky like diamond dust. The scent of woodsmoke drifted on the breeze, mingling with the soft rustle of dried leaves, as Rebecca and Cort drove through quiet streets, truck windows open to the night air.
Porch lights glowed soft amber and decorative pumpkins shone orange and ghost white from stoops and stairs.
Even though Rebecca knew Crispin’s strict bylaw enforcement was behind it, the town still looked sharp in its fall decorations.
There were cornstalks tied to lampposts, wreaths of dried hydrangea and maple leaves, lanterns flickering in the dim light.
All of it, Rebecca had to admit, was perfect.
“This is me,” he said, pulling into the driveway of a compact yellow-brick house with a wide porch and white railings.
On the porch, a jumble of potted mums sat in the gentle shadows, while two lopsided scarecrows leaned companionably against the railing.
When they got out of the truck and walked toward the house, Rebecca caught sight of a sprawling patch of gourds, their knobbly shapes clear in the light of the path of solar lanterns that led before them.
She stood still and found herself shivering slightly, running her hands up and down her arms.
Cort paused and shrugged off his flannel shirt, giving it to her before she could protest. “It really is getting cold,” he said.
“I can grab another one, inside.” She was instantly enveloped in the sawdust and herbal soap scent of him, in the warmth of the fabric that had just been against his body.
“What do you need me to do first?”
“If you could go in and grab the extra quilts from the storage bench just inside the front door, I’ll set up the tarps,” he said. “I’ll meet you out back.”
She pushed open the door, made of gray barn planks she imagined must have come from Kingman’s, and stepped inside.
The small entranceway had built-in cubbies and hooks, hung with small sweaters and jackets that clearly belonged to Pip, and flannel shirts that were Cort’s, plus his leather jacket.
She paused, breathed in, smelled the cedar sawdust and aftershave that were so familiar, and the warm, spicy smells of his house.
The entrance led straight into a living room–dining room combination she could see had Cort’s imprint all over it.
Dove-gray shiplap, a knotty pine ceiling, wide-plank wood floors.
She found herself taking it all in, hungrily.
Finding it was exactly as she had imagined a home Cort would create for himself to look and feel like—and also, that this was a place she felt comfortable in, wanted to be in.
She couldn’t help but smile when she saw the wall of bookshelves on one side of the living room, crammed full with multicolored volumes.
Children’s art was framed on the wall, and a collage of family photos hung near where she stood.
She looked at photos of Pip from babyhood until now, with Cort or with his grandparents, some with Brae.
There was even one of Melanie, sitting on Santa’s lap with Pip, both beaming into the camera.
Rebecca felt a twinge, looking at that photo—not of jealousy, but for Cort.
This was his family, no matter the circumstances.
She of all people understood the importance of that.
Rebecca stepped away, turned, and found the pine blanket box tucked against the opposite wall. Inside it were the promised quilts and blankets, all smelling of cedar and spice. She lifted them into her arms, breathed deep, and went outside to find Cort.