Chapter 19
After peeling off all my clothes, leaving chunks of mud all over the floor that I had to clean up, and a boiling shower, I finally feel warm.
Between the hose and the mud and even the wind, my body felt that bone-deep cold that takes a two-hour hot shower to drive away.
Except the hot water lasts ten minutes in this old house, and I had to share it with Arlo, giving me five minutes in a hot shower where I closed all the windows and turned off the fan so I could at least bask in the steam.
Stomach churning, I hover at my door, listening to the laughter spilling up the steps from down below. It’s Sunday, which means it’s family dinner night, and I know that neither Arlo nor his sisters would miss meeting my brother, making it a full house.
Why does that make my stomach flutter with knots? I know why, and soon I’ll have to face that reality, but for tonight, I just plan on enjoying family.
I make my way down the hall, my steps creaking on the stairs as I struggle to eavesdrop on the conversations.
Above all, I hear my brother chattering excitedly about something or other and the following laughter that ensues.
Robin has a special kind of charisma that often surprises even me.
He’s a natural storyteller and can adapt to any environment, so much so that I believe I’m going to have him read this week’s story at the library, because I just know he will love it.
I head into the sitting room, where everyone is gathered before dinner. I find Arlo first. He’s sitting in his usual chair, swirling a glass of amber liquid in his hands. His eyes find mine, even as the chatter dances over us.
I look away, finding my brother regaling Seraphina, Autumn, and Saffron while Lark sits snuggled up beside him.
Her eyes are full of love and appreciation as she soaks in every word.
With nowhere left to sit, I shuffle over to stand in front of the fireplace, which just so happens to be where Arlo sat.
Really, I didn’t do that on purpose. It’s just warm in this corner.
“Here.” His breath whispers over my skin. “Sit.”
He’s so close, and I swear I feel the others watching this dance we keep playing. Without a word, I slide onto the chair as Arlo heads over to the drink cart and pours me a glass of red wine, which is very much needed at this moment.
He hands it over, and I clutch it to my chest like it’s a lifeline, which it very well might be, and focus on the story. Robin’s telling them something obnoxious from our past, about us getting lost in the woods, which was always a very dangerous situation for kids.
“So I’m here for a week. What is there to do in a small town?” His eyes light up as he meets Seraphina’s gaze, and she blushes.
What do we have here?
I jump in, ready to take over his Wednesday morning. “I’ve signed you up for story time on Wednesday.”
“Story time?” Robin’s eyes, so like mine, sparkle with mischief. “And tell me, dear sister, what book am I reading?”
That’s just like Robin, to take my claim in stride, but I know him far too well, and when it comes to my brother, I should always expect the unexpected.
“Just a Thanksgiving book.” I clear my throat, sipping the spicy wine and avoiding Robin’s penetrating gaze. I won’t give him any more than that.
“You sure that’s a good idea, Wren?” Seraphina twists her hands. I know what she is referring to—the town’s refusal to acknowledge Thanksgiving.
I have a plan for that. “Trust me?” I ask, because I plan to talk to Paris tomorrow night.
The good, the bad, the ugly, I’m hoping we can help her move past the pain of losing her husband on Thanksgiving.
I don’t want to appear as though her pain isn’t real, but I want to be there for her and teach her it’s okay to heal.
Just as she taught me. The pain never really goes away, but we can learn how to better understand the anguish.
And if not? Well, I haven’t figured that out yet.
“It won’t work.” Autumn slouches in a chair to my left, rolling her bottle along the armchair. “She will lose it if you read a Thanksgiving book on Wednesday.”
“I’m missing something,” Robin mutters with a tilt of his head and a curious look on his face.
“I know that look, and no.” I point at him. “It isn’t my story to tell.”
“It also isn’t your hurt to mend,” Autumn counters.
She’s also not wrong, but just like they were there for me the other night, I want to be there for her.
“I’ll talk to her.” Robin gives me that smile that is all joker and not one ounce of seriousness. “Besides, don’t you two have a date to work out?”
I choke on my wine and, like the gentleman Arlo is, he slaps my back, which is completely unnecessary.
“No.” I gasp for breath.
“No to the date, or no to talking to this Paris?” Robin wags his brows, and I want nothing more than to chuck my wine at him. But I won’t because I’m not a freaking child…unless it comes to him, then I’m a child.
“I think she means no to talking to Paris,” Arlo clarifies.
“So you two are dating now?” Autumn sits up and Seraphina cocks her head.
Floor, swallow me whole. Right now, please. Just open up and suck me down.
My mouth gapes open like a fish.
“Aww, sis, you’re speechless.” I’m going to body slam my brother if he keeps talking.
Arlo lays a gentle hand on my shoulder, squeezing once in comfort. However, I’m not feeling comfortable. I’m feeling even more anxious because that simple touch is like a red flag to the vultures surrounding us.
“Let’s focus,” Saffron says, wearing one of her signature lace ensembles. Leaning forward, she jerks her head to Robin. “Now, Paris won’t just talk to anyone, you know.” Her head dips and her mouth thins as she takes in my brother.
“Are you warning me off?” Amusement dances in his eyes.
“Yes.” Saffron doesn’t hold back from speaking her truth, and I admire her for it. “You are a stranger. In fact, I forbid you from speaking to Paris. She is far too delicate for the likes of you.”
My brother guffaws, while Autumn nods her head in agreement.
“I’ve only known you a couple hours, and I am inclined to agree.” Seraphina sips her wine delicately, her eyes tracking my brother over the rim.
“I will speak with Paris.” Saffron settles back in her chair with a smile on her face, as though she is actually looking forward to that moment, which scares me a little. “Now, I’m going to go work on dinner.”
“Can I help?” Lark bounces up, her book falling to the floor.
“Of course, little one.” Saffron’s voice dips to that matronly tone that reminds me so much of Gram.
Robin glances at Saffron, a warming smirk on his face as he watches the two of them walk down the hall together. I know what he sees and how he feels watching them, because it’s the same feeling I get when I observe them together.
I never thought Lark could experience the love of a grandparent, and now, in a way, she is.
And you want to take her from that.
Shame burns through me at the thought, because it’s true. I want to follow through with our plans, but this back and forth of being here keeps messing with my head.
“So, Robin,” Autumn begins.
“No.” Seraphina slams her glass down on the coffee table. “No,” she repeats softly.
“Did you just call dibs?” Autumn laughs, sitting up as a challenging glint crosses her blue eyes.
I glance up at Arlo, my gaze screaming, Is this really happening?
“I would never claim a man.” Even as Seraphina speaks, her eyes dart to Robin.
That little liar.
“Ladies.” Robin holds up his hands.
“Arlo.” I jump up and grab his hand, tugging him out of the parlor, my brother’s laughter following us out.
“Wait!” He darts back and snatches the bottle of wine. Rushing out, he grabs my hand and leads me up the staircase. “I have an idea.”
“Your ideas are dangerous.” Yet I grip his hand in mine, follow him up to the second floor, and then step into a bedroom at the end of the hall. His damp red flannel is draped across a chair. This must be the room he stays in when he’s here.
I feel like a teenager. I’m in Arlo Larson’s room and that makes me giddy.
“In here.” He shoves open a door that squeaks, because the paint is stuck to it. “Wait.” Thinking better of it, he grabs the comforter off his bed, then leads me to a set of stairs that wind up toward an attic. Cool air rushes past us as we ascend.
“I hope you aren’t leading me to my death.”
“Are you always this paranoid?”
“Only on Sundays.”
“Well, pretend it’s Saturday.” He squeezes my hand before leading me into a low attic that peaks in the center. All around the space are original pieces of furniture hidden under dusty sheets. Arlo leads me past all of that to the window at the end that isn’t a window at all.
“Is that?”
“Yep.” He pushes open the large windows, guiding me out onto a hidden balcony I didn’t once notice from the ground. Built into the roof, it’s almost concealed, providing the perfect space to hide. A rusted iron railing lines the little balcony.
Arlo plops down in the corner, wrapping the blanket around himself. There’s a challenge in his eyes as he holds one end of the comforter open.
Feeling brave, I sink down beside him, thankful for his warmth.
For a long moment, we sit there, watching the graveyard below and the forest beyond, passing the bottle of wine back and forth.
“I feel like a teenager.” I laugh around a pull of wine and hand it back over.
“This was my favorite hiding place as a kid.” He wraps his arm around me, pulling me close, and I bask in his warmth, in the strength of his arms, and his scent.
“Tell me more.” I lean my head against his shoulder as a gentle breeze ruffles my hair.
“I was the only guy in a house of all girls after my father passed. That’s a lot of estrogen to deal with daily. Sometimes, a guy just needs a moment to himself.”
“But of course,” I agree, but I can’t really relate. It was always just my brother and me, and though we fought, I never wanted a moment alone. I was too afraid of losing him.