Chapter Seventeen
“Do you know the only thing more mortifying than dressing up in a Bo Peep costume?” Sunny asked as she and Stevie continued carefully packing a selection of rare and endangered orchids for transport to the conservatory. “Wearing a Bo Peep costume while doing the walk of shame. In front of half the town.”
To her credit, Stevie gave her a consoling look . . . before bursting out laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, unable to stop. “But the visual alone . . .” She waved a gloved hand in front of her, and covered her mouth with the other, but the spluttering laughter didn’t stop.
Sunny couldn’t blame her, and ended up having to squelch a snicker or two herself.
“So, then what happened?” she asked. “How did the two of you leave things?”
Sunny had told Stevie about the party, about Bailey’s reaction to the lamb, which Stevie had known about beforehand, and about ending the evening with a drive up to Sawyer’s partially renovated cabin. She hadn’t gone into any great detail about the night itself, other than to say that it had been quite possibly the best night of her entire life, had left her even more conflicted about what she should do, but that she had absolutely no regrets. Every part of which was true.
“He drove me down to the mill, to my car. They hadn’t gotten quite as much snow there as we did up at the cabin, but there was still a good five or six inches. It’s funny, but up there where they are used to that kind of snowfall, it was like no big deal.”
Stevie nodded. “Here we got little more than a dusting and it’s a total media freak out.” She smiled, then sighed. “I bet it was pretty.”
“Utterly breathtaking,” Sunny said with a sigh, wishing she’d thought to take a photo on her phone to share with her friend. And maybe to have for herself as well. A keepsake. Just in case. “He really does have a beautiful spot in the world. When we were driving out, I was thinking that waking up to that every morning, all year round, has to help him put all the ugliness of war into at least a little perspective.”
“Probably why he bought it,” Stevie said, carefully wrapping batting around the next planter.
Sunny nodded as she took the Dragon’s Mouth orchid from Stevie and cautiously stowed it in the large travel container.
“So, what now? What next?”
Sunny wiped the bare wrist above her gloved hand across her forehead. Nerves regarding the upcoming presentation, along with the humid conditions in the greenhouse were causing beads of perspiration to pop up. At least that was the convenient excuse. “I don’t know,” she said, honestly. “He’d mentioned earlier that he’d be willing to come here to help me transport the other two lambs Addie said she was going to get. He wants to see the town house, see where I live.” She lifted a shoulder, smiled weakly. “So, I guess we’re starting a long-distance relationship.”
“You don’t look overly enthusiastic about that. Isn’t that what you want?”
Sunny stopped what she was doing, and looked at her best friend. “I honestly don’t know. Sawyer belongs in Blue Hollow Falls. His life is there. Not just his work. That’s the smaller part of it, actually. It’s so much bigger than that. He belongs there, it’s where he should be, and where he needs to be. For so many reasons. I mean, even looking at it as objectively as I can, big picture, once Addie’s gone and Bailey has grown up, who knows . . . maybe he’d want something else for himself. But for the long-term foreseeable future, he’s exactly where he should be. I would never want him to change that.”
“So . . . ?”
“So, that means I end up in a long-distance relationship. I don’t want that, but I also don’t want to stop seeing him.” She looked at her friend. “So, what choice do I have?”
Stevie smiled and shook her head as she went back to work.
“What?” Sunny asked, seeing that Stevie clearly had a definite opinion on the matter, given the look on her face.
Stevie glanced up, but didn’t stop what she was doing. They had to get the orchids transported by noon so they could do all the unpacking at the conservatory before the end of the day. “We all have choices,” was what she said, kindly, but pointedly all the same.
“So, what, I give up everything and move to the mountains to be with him . . . and do what?” She lifted her hands. “My work is here. And I know it’s ‘just a job,’” she said, making air quotes, “but it’s not just a job to me. It’s work that I love and am passionate about. I also happen to think it’s important work. Collectively, we’re helping to preserve and promote the ongoing survival of the better part of two hundred species of orchids. I’m just now starting to make headway with my work on germination, . . . aaand I’m preaching to the choir,” she said, trailing off as Stevie simply smiled and nodded. Sunny let out a heavy sigh. “I care about what I do and I want to do it here, but even if I was willing to change employers, Blue Hollow Falls is not commuting distance to anything having to do with my work, my studies. Heck, I’d just as soon commute to here and back, but then I wouldn’t have any time left to spend with Sawyer.”
“So, you have thought about it,” Stevie said, sounding satisfied. “That’s good.”
“No, good would be finding a solution that would let me have my cake and eat it, too.”
Stevie handed her the Showy Lady’s Slipper she’d finished wrapping up and smiled. “Well, then, I’d say that right there is your starting point.”
* * *
“Thanks, Hattie,” Sawyer said when the older woman slid his platter of lost bread and eggs over easy in front of him.
Henrietta Beauchamp was a tall woman, with an ample bosom and a posterior to match. Advanced age had not seemed to affect her posture or her belief that women simply weren’t seen in public “without their face on.” Her pale, wrinkled cheeks always sported a faint sheen of translucent powder, with a hint of blush—she called it rouge—adding a bit of color to her high cheekbones. The lipstick of choice was always some shade of red, and even the most talented artist would say that her penciled-on eyebrows were a work of art. He had no idea what her natural hair looked like or even if she had any at this point, but the wig she favored most often was Lucille Ball red in color and style, including the starched little scarf tied around the middle.
Despite the fact that she owned the place, she wore a traditional waitress uniform, the style dated sometime back in the fifties. The color of the shift style dress changed, but there was always a white apron tied over it, the kind with a pocket on the front to hold her ever-present order book. A book he’d never once seen her actually use while taking an order, along with the pencil that was perennially tucked behind her ear. There was a matching white kerchief, starched and folded into neat little points, tucked into the bosom pocket. She wore thick hose and thicker soled nurse’s shoes, also circa 1950, and a no-nonsense, wind-up Timex watch strapped around her age-spotted wrist that was probably as old as she was.
She refilled his coffee, and nodded to the heavy white plate stacked high with the freshly toasted, golden brown, Cajun version of French bread. “Need more syrup to go with that, cher?” she asked, setting a little porcelain pitcher full of maple syrup next to the plate.
“No, ma’am,” he said, opening up the linen napkin and spreading it on his lap. Miss Hattie believed in dining room manners, and he’d long since learned that if he didn’t know the proper use of table linen, she’d be happy to give him a demonstration. “I believe this will do the job just fine, thank you.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, clearly disagreeing.
He looked up and saw pity in her dark brown eyes. “I’m good,” he assured her.
“Far be it from me to offer advice where it’s not appreciated,” she said, which indicated she was about to do that very thing. “But all the maple syrup in the world isn’t going to replace the kind of sugar you’re missin’.”
Good thing he hadn’t taken a bite yet, or he’d have surely choked on it. “I—appreciate that,” he finally managed. “But I’m fine.” He smiled. “Truly.”
She made a little noise that let him know what she thought about that, and moved on to fill the coffee mugs of her other regular morning patrons.
Sawyer had no more breathed a sigh of relief and taken the first bite of perfectly cooked egg, when Bailey slid in to the booth seat across from him, looking quite serious. He couldn’t hide his surprise, but he swallowed the bite, smoothed his expression, then casually said, “Shouldn’t you be in school right about now?”
“School is boring,” she said, then folded her arms on the table, continuing to stare at him with serious regard.
“And yet,” he said, taking a sip of coffee, trying to figure out the best way to handle this, “they kind of get a little upset when students just up and head out.”
“Did you ever play hooky?”
He’d just started to wipe his mouth with a napkin, and tried to cover the sudden cough with a clearing of his throat. “Well, I don’t know that that has anything to do with—”
“I had to talk to you,” she said, her blue eyes radiating urgency. “I’m ahead in all my schoolwork and we were just having some dumb assembly today. I’m not missing anything important. I swear.”
“How did you even get back up here from the valley?”
“Seth came and got me.” She put her hand to her forehead, clearly playacting, yet remaining soberly serious. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Right.” Sawyer glanced out through the window and saw a smiling Seth leaning against the side of his Range Rover. He lifted his hand in a short wave.
Sawyer did not wave back, but looked back at Bailey. “You should probably tell me what’s going on.” He put his knife and fork down carefully on the edge of his plate. “Now.”
Bailey sat up straighter at that, and her calm demeanor flickered briefly. She glanced out the window at Seth, then back to Sawyer. “We have to show you something.”
“We? And it couldn’t wait until after school?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid you’re going to screw this up.”
He frowned. “Screw what up?”
She lifted her hands from the table, then let them fall to her lap. “Everything.” She’d said it with the kind of heartfelt emotion only a ten-year-old-going-on-thirty could muster.
Given Seth was standing outside and therefore also involved in whatever this little drama was about, and Sawyer knew Seth wouldn’t have encouraged Bailey to do something irresponsible that would get her into trouble, he opted to sit there calmly and listen to what Bailey had to say. “Can you be more specific?”
He assumed this must have something to do with the lamb, maybe the snow, though who the hell knew what that could be, exactly. He also knew from her past history that Bailey was far more a rule follower than a rule breaker, so this was definitely out of character. Still, despite her wise-beyond-her-years, solemn exterior, she was still just a little kid, and as such, potentially given to overexaggerated worry.
“It would be better if we just show you.” She looked at his plate of food, then at him, as if asking him to decide which was more important.
He sighed, and considered whether he should ask for a to-go box. He hated to waste food. Hattie was a step ahead of him, though, and arrived with a carryout container for the French toast and a small plastic container for the syrup. “Here you go.” She slapped his tab on the table and gave Bailey a look.
To her credit, Bailey smiled angelically as if she did that all the time. “Hi, Hattie,” she said with a little wave.
Hattie just nodded. “All kinds of trouble when that one comes of age,” she told Sawyer under her breath. “Mark my words, cher.” Then she strode off.
Bailey had already poured the syrup in the clear plastic container and snapped on the lid, then busied herself with transferring the toast to the other container while Sawyer got out his wallet and pulled a few bills out to cover his tab. She added a few foil-wrapped packets of butter, then tossed in a few jelly packets.
She looked at him and wrinkled her nose. “You don’t want to save the rest of the egg, do you?”
He’d broken the yoke with his single bite of the delicious, brown sugar–laden breakfast he rarely allowed himself to have. He refused to admit that Hattie might have had a point about why he’d chosen that particular morning to indulge. He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He slid out of the booth. “Come on. You can show me what needs showing, then Seth can take you back down to school by the lunch bell.”
She made a face at that, but one look at him had her grabbing the to-go box and sliding out of the booth without another word. He didn’t know if it was her attempt to hedge her bets, or just the urgency she clearly felt, but she took his hand and all but dragged him along in her wake.
He remembered the first time she’d reached for his hand, and knew that whatever this was about, he was likely going to give in on it. She had that effect on him. Looks like you’re a sucker for all the pretty faces in your life.
He probably shouldn’t have smiled at that thought, but he did. His night with Sunny might not have ended as he’d hoped, but he’d come to the decision that it was a good thing he hadn’t blurted out anything that morning. She’d headed on back to the city yesterday morning after they’d been plowed out and had texted him later that she’d arrived home safely. Fortunately, D.C. hadn’t been as affected by the surprise storm. He’d texted back that he was looking forward to his trip to see her, and she’d responded that she was, too.
So, their aborted morning hadn’t been an ending. Things were just beginning. And he’d spent most of the next twenty-four hours telling himself he was good with that.
He wiped all expression from his face when they reached the parking lot. Seth had parked his Land Rover next to Sawyer’s truck and was wise enough to hurry things along and avoid any protracted discussion. “Good morning,” he said to Sawyer, then nodded to the to-go box that Bailey held in her hand. “Beignets?”
She shook her head. “Lost bread.”
Seth closed his eyes in sincere reverence. “Also a good choice.” He shifted his weight off his Land Rover and said, “Think I have time to run in and grab a cup of—” He took one look at Sawyer’s expression and clapped his hands together. “Okay, then, on the road we go.”
“On the road to where, exactly?”
“I didn’t tell him that part yet,” Bailey explained.
“Oh,” Seth said, but regrouped quickly. “Okay. Back up to the mill,” he told Sawyer.
“Shotgun,” Bailey said, and scooted around to the passenger side of Seth’s truck.
Smart move, Sawyer wanted to tell her, but pointed to his truck and said, “In there, kiddo.” She’d managed to get what she wanted, but he thought a little more conversation might be in order, if for no other reason than he didn’t want her to think this was the new status quo.
One thing was for certain, Bailey was definitely coming out of her shell. He just hoped that whatever it was she was emerging into would be to her benefit. She was too smart by half, and twice as sharp as most kids her age.
They drove through town in silence, but when he took the turn at the light and headed up toward Falls Road, he glanced her way, and caught her looking at his tattoo again. She glanced away.
He drove another mile or so, then said, “You want to talk about it?”
She didn’t pretend she didn’t know what he meant. “I knew someone who was in Special Forces,” she said. “He had a tattoo kind of like that. It had more stuff on it, though.”
“Was he a teacher?” he asked.
She shook her head. “My second foster dad.”
That sat Sawyer back. So many directions that could go, he thought, praying like hell it wasn’t a bad one. “Good guy?” he said, trying to find the right way in.
“The best,” she said, with a heartfelt sigh.
Sawyer relaxed. “I’m glad to hear that.” He glanced over at her, relieved to see that her expression was one of fondness, not pensiveness, or worse. “What happened?”
“His wife died right after they took me in.” She quickly added, “I didn’t know her. She was already in the hospital. And I was little then.”
“Did he have kids of his own?”
She nodded. “One. He was a grown-up, though. He was in the Army, too.”
“So he was an older man, then?”
“Like a grandpa,” she said. “Maybe not as old as Miss Addie though.”
He smiled at that. “Did his wife dying mean you couldn’t stay?”
“No, I stayed. I was there longer than anywhere else. I think he would have adopted me. But he had P.D. . . .”
“PTSD?”
She nodded. “Yeah. That. He had bad dreams. And sometimes he thought I was in the Army, too.”
Sawyer frowned now. “Did he ever—”
“He never hurt me,” she said, immediately and not a little fiercely. “He loved me.” She turned away then, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her work to get her composure back under her control.
He wished she hadn’t had the kind of life that made her so good at that particular skill. “Good,” he said. “Sounds like he tried to do the best by you.”
“He did. But then . . . it got worse, and he—” She broke off, frowned hard, and looked out the passenger side window.
“Where is he now?” Sawyer asked, hoping that was the easiest way for her to tell him the last part.
“In a hospital,” she said. “Where they take care of soldiers with P . . . D . . . you know.”
“I do. I’m glad he’s getting help. I’m very sorry he couldn’t keep taking care of you.”
“They didn’t want him to. After his wife died, social services came,” she added. “But he said since I was doing okay, didn’t it make more sense to leave me where I was, and so they did. But after he went to the hospital . . .” She let that trail off, and Sawyer didn’t press her further. “I got to go see him once. But he didn’t know who I was anymore. They explained to me that . . . inside his head . . . he was in the war all the time. So, it didn’t mean he didn’t care about me.” She paused, then shrugged. “I read him a storybook. It was one he used to read to me. Goodnight Moon. I don’t know if he got it.” She looked away again. “I didn’t go back.”
“I’m sorry for that,” he said, his heart breaking for her. “I’m glad he’s somewhere where he’s getting help from people who know how to take care of him. I’m sure he’d have done right by you if he could.”
She nodded. “I think so, too.”
Sawyer understood now why she’d believed she could trust him so quickly. Certain kinds of triggers could get implemented at a very young age. That Special Forces tattoo had been one for her. He was just thankful that this particular trigger had served her well.
“Do you have bad dreams sometimes?” she asked, after they’d driven a few more minutes in silence.
He glanced at her. “No. I—I talked to someone. When I got out of the Army. It helped me. A lot. So I don’t have bad dreams.”
“No PD—” She just waved a hand, and that made him smile.
“No.”
“Good,” she said, then sat back, looking both relieved and happy.
Sawyer spent the rest of the drive to the mill trying to unknot the lump that seemed to have permanently formed in his throat. Bailey was a pretty special little girl. And, right or wrong, he was no longer as inclined to be upset with her for her little adventure today.
He turned onto the narrow service road that went down to the lower lot behind the mill. The bigger construction equipment they’d needed early on was gone now, and the materials they were currently working with were mostly all stored inside. Which was a good thing, given everything was still blanketed in a few inches of snow, despite the return to warmer, sunnier weather that day and the day before. Another day or two more of sunshine and the snow would all be gone.
Sawyer backed in so his door was next to Seth’s when they both climbed out. “What’s this all about?” he asked his friend, keeping his voice quiet.
“You’ll see,” Seth said, but his tone was straightforward, not teasing, and he nodded toward the trail behind the mill.
Confused, having assumed whatever it was had something to do with the mill, Sawyer looked at the trail, then back to Seth. “What the hell?”
“I talked to Sunny last night,” Bailey said.
Both men turned to find her standing right behind them. “Okay,” Sawyer said. “I’m glad you two are talking.” Which was true. He realized then that maybe he should have called her himself, instead of simply responding to her text in kind. He suddenly felt like a dorky adolescent who wasn’t confident enough about what he wanted to simply up and go after it. He’d been trying not to be any more aggressive about those wants than he already had been, as well as be respectful enough to give Sunny space and time to make up her own mind. He’d been quite content knowing she hadn’t spent the three-hour-plus, post-storm drive home talking herself out of a future with him, and was still expecting they’d spend an upcoming weekend together. One step at a time. That was the best way to move things forward.
Liar. You post-adolescent dork. He should have called her. Leave it to the ten-year-old to point out the obvious.
“She said she didn’t know when she was coming out here next,” Bailey went on.
Sawyer snapped out of his thoughts, looked back at Bailey, who seemed more than a bit perturbed about that. “Ah. Well, that’s because I’m going to drive out to see her.”
“When?” she wanted to know.
“I . . . uh . . . I don’t know yet.” He was about to tell her about the lamb transport aspect of his trip north, but then wondered if Addie had mentioned that to Bailey yet or if it was some kind of surprise. He looked at Seth, but got no help there. “You’re going up to see her in a few weeks, right? For the school holiday weekend?”
Bailey just sighed and looked at Seth. “See? I told you.”
Seth nodded, lifted a shoulder in a short shrug, like What are you gonna do? “Yep. I thought he might have pulled it together, but . . . you were right.”
“He’s about to get in his truck and head back down to Hattie’s for a fresh order of . . . everything on the menu,” Sawyer told them, his patience for this little game nearing an end.
“Well, come on this way,” Seth said, all Mr. Magnanimous. He turned and followed Bailey out from between the two vehicles, “Let’s go see what there is to see. Then I’ll come down and join you on that protein and carb load bandwagon.” He clapped Sawyer on the back and grinned. “We’re probably going to need it.”
Will pulled up just then and got out of his SUV. “Good,” he said matter-of-factly, “you got him here.”
Sawyer thought he probably looked downright comical when his head swiveled from Will, back to Seth and Bailey, then back to Will. “You’re in on this?”
Will just closed the door of his vehicle and pulled on a pair of heavy work gloves. “Oh, I think we’re all going to be in on this if we have a hope of pulling it off.” In his usual quiet style, he simply turned and headed across the lot, then on across the snow-covered grass toward the opening where the trail led into the woods.
Bailey trotted ahead and fell in step behind him. Seth gestured to Sawyer to go ahead of him. “Go with it, man,” he advised his friend, his smile sincere. “Trust me. It’s all a good thing.”