Chapter One – Fern

“Hi, Teagan,” Fern said into her phone as she grabbed her purse and headed to the door. She was on her way to work and, as always, was running early. Her job with Will, and her life here in Bear Creek, meant too much to her to even risk being one minute late.

“Hi, Fern, how are you?” Teagan asked, the tone of her voice immediately telling Fern there was something wrong. Fern closed her front door and walked back toward her small sitting room; she had time to spare.

“I’m good,” Fern answered, knowing there was another reason for the call. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Walt,” Teagan replied, a hitch in her voice.

“What about him?” Fern asked, her concern matching Teagan’s. Walt had been left in charge of the Bear Creek Brewery while its owner, Carter Eden, was away making a movie. Yes, Bear Creek had its own movie star—although most of the residents were more impressed by the honey beer he made than his acting career. But not Fern. Carter would always have a special place in Fern’s heart, and not just because of the terrible crush she’d had on him. A crush she had acted on, when she was a teenager. Those actions had led to her attempting to take her own life, and ending up in foster care.

Some kids might hate that idea, but for Fern it was a step forward. She’d gotten the help she needed; she had also gotten the escape she needed from an abusive stepdad.

Her life had in some ways come full circle now. Carter Eden had come back into her life, in a purely platonic, non-stalkerish way. Their new relationship had led him to offer to pay her rent for the small house in Bear Creek she called home.

Her hand immediately went to her wrist, which bore the thin, silvery scars of her past. It was instinctive. No matter how much she thought she had gotten over what happened, the mention of Carter Eden always made her react the same way.

It was stupid, really: she was completely over the man. Completely. And no, she was not trying to trick herself into believing something that wasn’t true. She loved him for what he had done for her. But it was more of a brother-sister relationship. And she liked it that way. More than anything, she was grateful that her actions had not screwed up his life.

That might not be strictly true: her actions had screwed up his life, but they also led to him finding his perfect woman. Or she had found him in his mountain hideaway, and now they were blissfully happy, with a small baby to love and cherish.

“Do you think you could drive up there?” Teagan asked, making Fern realize she had missed part of the conversation.

“To Walt’s place?” Fern asked, trying to retrace her thoughts and grasp hold of what Teagan was saying.

“Yes. Like I said, I’d go, but I can’t, I’m expecting a delivery.” Teagan’s voice wobbled again. She was older than Fern, but more emotional. Happy or sad, Teagan was easy to read, transparent. That transparency was leading to Teagan making a success of her career as a journalist. She was so open, everyone trusted her, because she had no hidden agenda.

Fern, on the other hand, had learned to control her emotions impeccably. Or at least, mask them. They still bubbled and simmered, but she had learned to keep her voice level and her facial expressions neutral. Hiding her true self had become part of a well-practiced survival mechanism during her turbulent childhood.

“Sure. I’ll need to OK it with Will first, though,” Fern replied, turning to head back out of the door.

“I’m sure he won’t mind. And thank you. I’m just worried that Walt isn’t here, the old man is always early.”

“You’ve tried his phone?” Fern asked, pulling her front door closed behind her, and walking across to the old car she drove. Will had offered to lend her one of the pool cars, or advance her some of her salary, but she had refused. The old Ford might be a rust bucket, but it was reliable, and more importantly, it was hers, bought with her own money. Fern planned to drive it until the engine gave out, or a wheel dropped off.

“Yes. Cell and home number. Nothing, they both keep ringing, no answer,” Teagan told her. “I’ve been trying for the last half an hour. It’s only a ten-minute drive down from his house. So even if he left his cell at home, he should be here by now.”

“Don’t worry, Teagan, I’ll head to his place now. I’ll let you know when I get there.”

“Thank you, Fern. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You would do just fine,” Fern answered, unused to people depending on her. She figured Teagan was simply being polite.

“Not true.” Teagan told her firmly. “Oh, the delivery is here. Call me when you find him.”

Teagan ended the call, and Fern immediately dialed Will’s number. He should be in the office by now. “Hey, Will.”

“Hi, Fern, everything OK?” Will asked. She could hear him moving around the office, putting the coffee pot on by the sound of it. Will was a man of habit, and coffee was the worst of those habits.

“I hope so… Teagan just called. She’s concerned Walt didn’t turn up for work. They are expecting a delivery and she is sure he wouldn’t be late, but he isn’t answering his phone.”

“Do you want me to go and see if he’s OK?” Will asked.

“No, I am on my way there.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said quickly.

“No, you are so busy, and I can handle it,” she assured him. “I just wanted to let you know I was going to be late.”

“Don’t worry. Take your time.” He hesitated. “I can send one of the guys over there with you.”

“I’m on my way already,” she replied, putting her seatbelt on. “If I need anything, I can call you or an ambulance.”

Will sighed audibly. “I’m hoping the ambulance will not be needed. That old guy is the lynchpin of the brewery while Carter is away.”

“I know. And I’d hate for Carter and Caroline to have to worry, or feel that they have to come back here.”

“They won’t. Whatever happens, we can cope with it. Whatever is wrong with Walt, and it may be nothing, we will deal with it. Listen, if anything is wrong, give me a call before Teagan calls Carter, OK?” Will asked.

“I will. I’ll call you as soon as I have news,” Fern told him, before hanging up. The old Ford started on the second attempt. Fern pulled out into the light traffic and followed the road into the center of Bear Creek, before heading out the other side of town. She had to follow a back road along the lower foothills, and then turn onto a narrow trail that wound up through the foothills. There were a handful of small farms dotted among the lower hills, and Walt lived in one of them.

Born and raised there, he liked to say, with a certain sadness in his voice. These days he lived alone; his wife had died, and his children had moved away. His daughter, Cathy, had a family and worked in a big city on the other side of the country. While his son, Theo, was a travel writer and moved around a lot, Theo’s adventurous life meant he hardly made it home these days, according to Walt, who spoke about both his kids with pride.

“Hopefully it is not going to come down to calling next of kin,” Fern said to herself as she nursed her car up the steep road. “Come on, we can do this.”

Her car wasn’t so sure, but it kept going, the engine straining as she neared Walt’s house. Fern had been up here once or twice before, which she was thankful for, because when the trail narrowed and became rocky, it would be easy to think she’d taken a wrong turn.

Rounding one last bend, the small house Walt called home appeared in front of her. His truck was parked outside, meaning he was still there, somewhere. There was no sign of movement to show where that somewhere was.

Fern got out of the car and approached the house, looking around the front yard for any sign of Walt. All she could see and hear was the droning of the old man’s bees. His front yard was full to the brim with flowers of every color, size, and scent. Even the lawn was covered in long grass interspersed by wild flowers.

“Busy, busy bees,” Fern said as she stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door. No answer. “Walt!”

Nothing. Should she just try to open the door and walk in? This made Fern uncomfortable; she didn’t want to enter uninvited, when there still might be another explanation. Walking backwards away from the door, Fern circled the house, peering in at the windows, feeling like a burglar checking a place out before she came back to break in. She couldn’t see anyone inside, and the whole house appeared to be neat and tidy, no sign of a struggle or a break-in.

She stood back, looking up at the windows of the second floor, to see the curtains closed. There was no other choice, she was going to have to find a way to get inside and check for Walt upstairs. Going back to the front of the house, she knocked twice more before placing her hand on the doorknob and turning it. Walt had not locked up.

Opening the door a crack, she poked her head inside and called, “Walt.” Getting no reply, she pushed it wide open and stepped into the hallway. “Walt! It’s Fern. Are you OK?” Fern didn’t want anyone to be able to interpret her being here as skulking.

Crossing the hallway, she went into the sitting room, and then stopped, unsure if she had heard something upstairs. “Walt?” She went back out and crossed the hallway, where she stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m coming up. I hope you are decent.”

Taking the steps slowly, she listened for any movement, but there was none. Getting to the landing, she hesitated. There were only three doors to choose from. The first led to a small bathroom, the second to a guest room, small but serviceable, the third stood slightly ajar, and if Walt was anywhere in the house, this was where she guessed he would be.

“OK, Walt, I’m coming in.” There was the faintest of sounds, and she pushed the door open, needing to get it over with. “Walt!”

He lay on his bed, his eyes open but his breathing shallow. Walt lifted his hand, but he only had the strength to get it a few inches off the bed before he dropped it back down to his side. Fern acted quickly.

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and pressed the buttons. “Hello. Ambulance, please.” While she spoke, she checked Walt’s airways, and his pulse: it was weak, but stable. By the times Fern had finished the call, Walt had closed his eyes, and looked as if he was asleep.

“Walt. Stay with me. Please,” Fern said, her voice cracking with emotion. She was trying not to panic, but she could not bear the thought of the old man dying. Ever since she had slit her own wrists in a bid to end her life, she had been about as pro-life as a person could be. That included animals, and she would not eat meat.

“Walt.” She tapped his face, and his eyes flickered open. “Hey, Walt. Is there anyone I can call?”

Walt looked at her, but not with any kind of recognition. She tried again, reaching across to the nightstand for his phone. “Who do I call?”

His eyes slid slowly to the phone, and he nodded. She began to scroll through, reading out the names, which gained no reaction until she read out Theo. Walt blinked his eyes twice.

“Theo. You want me to call Theo?”

Walt nodded, and then closed his eyes. Panic washed over Fern. What if he died? The sound of a vehicle coming up the steep road, engine straining, drew her to the window and she let out a sigh of relief. The ambulance had just crested the hill and was pulling into the small parking area in front of the house.

“I’ll be back in minute,” Fern told Walt. “The paramedics are here.”

She left the room, and ran down the stairs, opening the door wide as the paramedics approached.

“Hi, I’m Dermot, this is Angie.”

“Hi, my name is Fern, I’m the one who called you,” Fern said, trying to keep calm, even though she was struggling not to cry. Walt had gotten under her skin; she had started to see him as the father figure she had never known. When she moved into her new house, it was Walt who showed up with his tools to plumb in her washing machine, and Walt, along with Teagan, who had helped her paint over the ghastly wallpaper. Now he was ill, as if death had its bony fingers curled around his heart.

“What can you tell us, Fern?” Dermot asked gently.

She took a deep breath, pulled on the cloak of her cool exterior, and began to speak. “Walt never showed up for work. At the brewery. Teagan asked me to come over and check on him.”

“OK,” Dermot said, following her up the stairs.

“I looked around the house before coming inside.” Fern wanted them to know she hadn’t just barged in, not that it mattered, but she still felt guilty for letting herself inside Walt’s house. Doing everything properly, playing by the rules, had been drummed into her. Often with her stepfather’s fists.

“And everything seemed normal?” Dermot asked.

“Yes, so I tried the door, and found Walt in here.” She stood outside of the bedroom while Dermot and Angie went inside. “I tried to keep him awake.”

“Well done,” Angie said. “Hello, Walt.”

The two paramedics examined Walt carefully, before they announced they would get him in the ambulance and take him to hospital. “Can you pack some of Walt’s things to bring in? His toothbrush, that kind of thing?” Angie asked as they strapped the old man onto a stretcher ready to carry him downstairs.

“Sure,” Fern said, her face pale as she watched Walt carried out of the house. “He asked me to call Theo too.”

“Theo. That’s Walt’s son, isn’t it?” Dermot asked.

“Yes. I’ve never met him or anything. I only know him because Walt talks about his kids.” Fern smiled. She liked that Walt thought so much of his kids, even if they didn’t visit often.

“Be good to get him to come home. Are you OK with that? If not, I can give him a call. Walt’s going to be in the hospital for a few days, so a member of his family should know,” Angie said gently as Walt was transferred to the ambulance.

“I can do it.” Fern nodded her head firmly. She could do it, even though phone calls to strangers held a certain phobia for her. But for Walt, she could find the strength.

“Thanks. I’ll give Sheriff Brad a call. The sheriff can arrange for someone to stop by each day and check that the place is OK.”

“What about the bees?” Fern asked, listening to the buzzing as they collected honey.

“They should be OK for a couple of days. Call Theo, tell him what’s happened, and see how long it’s going to take for him to get back. If it’s too long, we’ll find someone who knows about them to come on over.”

“Thanks,” Fern said and watched the ambulance leave before she pulled out her phone and began making calls. She left Theo until last, trying to figure out exactly what she was going to say to him.

Would he come home when his dad needed him?