Chapter Nine
Pippa drove Bluebell down the road that led from the vineyard, past Mabry’s apple farm, down into Blue Hollow Falls. The town proper was small by any standard, but it was a bucolic little place, tucked away as it was in the hills. She’d seen it once before, the day she’d followed Noah from the hospital up to her wee cabin.
The town wasn’t more than a few blocks long, with several side streets at staggered intervals. She passed a post office, a church, Bo’s diner—which she’d heard raves about from Bailey—a hardware store, bookshop, and several offices touting various services. There were a few cute little shops tucked in here and there, a large antique store on the corner at the one main intersection. That two-story shop was diagonally across from a rather important-looking redbrick building with fat, white pillars holding up the small portico that shaded the wide brick steps leading up to the big oak doors. She noticed the little redbrick library next to it that she’d missed on her first pass through, and took the time to glance down the side streets, which appeared to be mostly residential. Then their little caravan was through the town and out the other side, back into the winding twists and turns that led through hills and more hills.
Today, instead of continuing on down to the main highway that went to Turtle Springs, they took a turn onto a narrower track that reminded her of the single-track roads at home, only there wasn’t much, if any, room to pull to the side to allow an oncoming vehicle to pass. Pippa followed Addie’s dusty green Subaru through a charming covered bridge that spanned Big Stone Creek. She knew from Jake that Big Stone Creek’s headwaters were up near the peak of the mountain known as Hawk’s Nest Ridge. Addie’s home was up in that area, as was Sawyer and Sunny’s place.
Up there the creek seemed more aptly named, as it was little more than a trickling stream of spring water. It picked up steam quickly as it traveled steeply downward, however, drawing in more and more water from other springs that seeped out between tumbles of boulders—some easily the size of Addie’s car—as well as any number of feeder streams. The creek tumbled and wound its way down through the hills, the high point being the one spectacular waterfall drop, right where the mill was located, which she’d get to see today. Then on down the mountain it went until it fed into the Hawksbill River below, which ran like a long, winding snake through the valley of the same name.
Pippa knew Turtle Springs was tucked into one of the curves of the Hawksbill, which had a wide span and a steady, almost lazy flow to it, as it also wrapped around the hospital where Mabry was still a guest. She hadn’t been allowed in to see him yet, which worried her, but Maggie had said she’d let Pippa and Seth know the minute he was out of intensive care.
Pippa downshifted as their little procession wound through more twists and turns, higher into the hills once again, proud of how well she’d adapted to the different driving conditions and opposite rules of the road. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was playing follow the leader. She gasped in delight as they popped out of the trees and there was a sudden, railed drop-off to her right, affording her a view of some of the most breathtaking scenery she’d seen yet. There was still some snow at the highest peaks, outlining every ridge and crevasse. Below that it looked as though someone had cloaked the timeworn hills with a blanket of pine trees, undulating over each curve in a deep, rich, emerald green, accented here and there by protruding ridges of granite and stone.
Pippa could see Hawk’s Nest Ridge from there, too. She’d get to see it up close that Sunday. Addie had invited her to supper, where she’d meet Sawyer and Sunny, as well as Bailey’s wee Herdwick sheep that she’d heard so much about. Seth would be there, too, which might be the first Pippa would get to see of him this week, despite her daily trips to the vineyard to visit with Dex and care for her baby goat.
Pippa knew Seth wasn’t keen on Bailey’s having given her the baby goat, whom Pippa had named Elliott that same day, much to everyone’s dismay. Apparently, that wasn’t a goat-worthy moniker. When she’d explained she’d taken the name from the young boy in the movie E.T. the ExtraTerrestrial, which was all about connections and home and family, Bailey and Jake had simply looked at her, no comprehension on their young faces. Seth, however, had said, “El-li-ott,” in the same gravelly voice E.T. had in the movie, making Pippa giggle. They’d shared a private grin, and her body had leapt so eagerly in response, she’d had to pretend the baby goat had nibbled somewhere he shouldn’t as an excuse to look quickly away.
They hadn’t been in close proximity to each other since, which hadn’t seemed to dull her desire for him one whit. The opposite, if that was possible. Pippa had promised Bailey and Jake a movie and popcorn night up at her cabin. Seth had been invited, too. She’d hoped with the kids there as chaperones maybe he’d relent and allow himself to be in the same room with her. She was still awaiting his decision. Bailey had agreed out of sheer politeness, Pippa knew, while Jake’s ears had turned bright pink before nodding and asking if he could bring anything. Pippa had promised Bailey she wouldn’t regret attending, and privately prayed she was right.
And Pippa and Seth hadn’t shared so much as a wave since.
When Pippa had gone to the vineyard the following day, Seth had been on the far side, still working his way through the vines, and hadn’t moved much closer to the barns by the time she said good-bye to Dex and Elliott for the day. It had been the same the next two days as well. Come yesterday, Thursday, he’d been gone altogether. He’d stuck a note to Elliott’s stall door, saying he’d gone down to Turtle Springs to check in on Mabry and run errands, and to let her know that Bailey and Jake wouldn’t be up that day. She supposed she should be happy he’d felt compelled to do that much.
Pippa hadn’t been stung by his removing himself from her orbit so much as she’d been ... curious. He could have told her at any time—including the day she’d asked him directly—that he’d rather she not come, but he hadn’t. To her mind, she and Seth were grown adults, and despite their apparent hormonally driven desire to jump each other, she was fairly certain with proper sleep and three squares a day for stamina, they could reasonably expect to control themselves even when standing within five feet of one another for more than a minute. So why such an extreme reaction?
She’d been careful to stay out of his way, to not interfere with his work. Of course, she could have steered clear of the vineyard altogether, but the way she saw it, she kept Dex occupied when he wasn’t on sheep guard-patrol, and she’d taken on the care and feeding of the baby goats. She wasn’t eating Seth’s food or sleeping under his roof, so certainly he could stand her doing that much.
Yesterday, with him gone, the kids off for the day, and Dex back in the field with the sheep, Pippa knew she could have fed and played with the goats for a bit, then just turned around and gone back to the cabin. Or down into Blue Hollow Falls, as she’d been promising herself she’d do every day that week ... but always ended up at the vineyard instead.
What she’d done, however, was go exploring. Seth hadn’t specifically told her not to go into the rows of vines, so she’d taken the afternoon and strolled through a goodly number of them. With the showers that had passed through early in the week, and the continued warmer than average temperatures persisting all week, the snow was gone completely now. The unrelenting sun, coupled with a strong breeze, had dried out the ground so that what had been mud and muck was now more like malleable dirt.
Pippa stayed on the still somewhat spongey strip of turf that ran down the center of each row, though she had waded into the soft soil here and there to study some of the vines, looking at the cuts Seth had made, looking at what he’d chosen to keep. She’d still been mostly flummoxed by how he made his choices when she’d finally climbed into Bluebell several hours later and headed back to her lovely little cabin for a nice, long soak.
Pippa had fallen in love with her wee cabin in the hills the moment she’d stepped inside it. It wasn’t anything like the chalet, but she loved what Noah had done with the small space. Rustic was the theme of the day, but the cabin wasn’t merely serviceable. The innkeeper in him had made sure it was comfortable and cozy too. Handwoven rugs covered the hardwood floor, overstuffed cushions plumped up the small couch, and a lap throw had been folded and draped over the back. There was also a padded rocking chair, which matched the pair on the little front porch.
The one main room served as living area, dining area, and kitchen, all of which could fit in the space of her living room back in Ireland, and her place was modestly proportioned. The round breakfast table sat two comfortably and four if they didn’t mind moving for folks coming in and out of the kitchen area. The kitchen, though well-appointed with new appliances, was just big enough to get things done with one chef at a time. The bathroom had been the biggest surprise. Small, with a tiny commode and sink, so the rest of the space could be devoted to a nice, big, spa-sized tub. Pippa had texted Noah her personal thanks. It felt like her own little nest before she’d even unpacked.
Overhead, the open-space room soared to a second story peak, from which hung a large ceiling fan on a long pole between two skylights, much like the one at Seth’s chalet, though much smaller in scale. If the cozy ground floor room and spa tub had charmed her, her heart had gone completely around the bend when she’d finally climbed the wide, flat, ladder-style steps up to the loft. Tucked into the eaves of the steeply slanted roof was a big, wide queen-size bed, a small nightstand, a small dormer window at the far end facing out the front of the house, and a stunning giant window that served as the headboard and filled most of the side wall.
It was a wonder she ever left the bed at all. It had fast become her favorite spot. The view she had from there, lying on her stomach, arms folded on her pillow, was beyond breathtaking. She was above the trees up there, like being in a treehouse, and could look straight down the peak of the mountain ridge, with other ridges snaking off to the left and right and ripple upon ripple of mountaintops for as far as the eye could see.
At night, the view shifted from the mountaintops up to the star-filled sky. That particular light show was one she’d never tire of for the rest of her days. She’d yet to see her first shooting star, but she felt certain that was only a matter of time. Pippa made a mental note to ask Addie when they got to the mill if there was a place she could get a map of the stars. Her father was an avid stargazer, and Pippa smiled to herself, thinking she might surprise him with a new wealth of celestial knowledge upon her return home. Maybe that would help erase the worry lines she’d seen feathering the corners of his eyes when she’d stopped in to see everyone just before hopping across the Atlantic.
Home. She missed it. Missed her family, her team. But she wasn’t ready to leave. She’d just gotten here, just settled in, begun to find her place, to fit in. It’s about belonging. Bailey’s words from last weekend echoed through her mind. Pippa smiled, thinking she hoped to be as wise as that little girl one day.
Addie turned off the mountain road onto one that was gravel and dirt, drawing Pippa from her thoughts as she continued to follow the little car over the bumpy, pitted road to the site of the mill. Even knowing where they were going and hearing endless descriptions of the place from Bailey and Jake didn’t prepare her for the reality of it. She braked the truck so fast the moment she first saw it, she stalled out. There wasn’t anyone behind her, so she simply sat there and took it in as Addie drove on ahead and parked in the little gravel lot near the side entrance.
The mill was tucked up on the side of a hill, in a crook of Big Stone Creek. Pine trees soared behind it, giving off their unique, blue aura, and beyond and above that was Hawk’s Nest Ridge, creating a spectacular backdrop. The mill itself was gorgeous, built from wood and bluestone with a new slate roof and two stacked stone chimneys. Sawyer and his friends had done a spectacular job giving it new life. Dignified, and quite large in scale, it somehow managed to seem intimate and cozy at the same time, built into its own little nook. If that wasn’t enough, it sported a huge, freshly painted red waterwheel on the side, steadily turning as it churned the rushing waters of Big Stone Creek after they came tumbling over the boulder ridge that gave the town its name.
“Blue Hollow Falls indeed,” she breathed, then jumped when a knock came at her window. She turned to find a grinning Bailey smiling and waving at her, making hand motions for her to lower the window. Pippa did so and simply said, “Wow.”
“I know, right? It’s like, you think you’re going to get used to it, but you really never do. Can you hear it?”
There was no way not to. The sound of the falls was a thunderous rhythm that worked perfectly in sync with the low, growling groan of the waterwheel. Pippa nodded. “It’s brilliant. All of it. Truly spectacular.”
“Hurry up and park. I can’t wait to show you the inside.” Her expression turning serious, Bailey put her hand on the open window frame as Pippa started the truck up again.
“What is it?” Pippa asked, surprised at the sudden shift.
“It’s going to be okay,” Bailey told her. “You know that, right?”
Pippa smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think it would be.”
“Good,” Bailey said, looking relieved. “So, hurry already!” And she was off and running over to help Addie.
Pippa shook her head and grinned, amazed at how her life had changed so suddenly to include all these people who were already dear to her. She turned the wheel and bumped over the ruts so she could pull in next to Addie. Addie and Bailey were dragging large, soft, woven baskets the size of laundry hampers out of the back. They didn’t seem heavy, and Pippa intended to offer them a hand. But she’d made the mistake of looking over at the creek first and found herself drawn toward the water, and the falls, almost as if by an unseen hand.
She stood at the edge of Big Stone Creek and let the thunder of the falls and the steady groan and swish of the great waterwheel serenade her, lulling her senses until she felt their rhythm fill every part of her. From somewhere inside the mill came the faint, rich sounds of a mandolin, its sweet notes somehow threading through the maelstrom of thundering water and churning wheel, adding just the right lyrical footnote, the perfect underscore. And for the first time in so very long, so long she’d begun to truly fear she’d never experience it again, that feeling rose inside her, squeezing her heart, making her throat tighten with emotion, and her eyes grow a little glassy. She let it in, let it fill her, right on up, until she thought she would burst with it. Oh, thank God.
“Ha’penny for your thoughts,” came a deep voice from just beside her.
She’d been so lost in her triumphant moment of reconnection, she hadn’t heard Seth approach. She turned to him, so broad, so tall, with his hair down around his shoulders, the Viking thrust of that beard, the perfection of his mouth, and those beautiful golden-brown eyes of his that focused instantly when he saw the emotions playing across her face. He looked at her with care and concern, as sincere and true as she’d ever known. That was Seth. And the words simply tumbled out of her. “I can hear music again,” she said, part gasp, part sob.
He looked confused and more concerned than before. “That’s Drake Clarkson. He’s a magician with a mandolin.” The last part of his words had clearly been an automatic response. His gaze took in all of her. “But you’re not talking about that music, are you?” he asked gently.
It was her moment of truth. She was tired of overthinking, tired of worrying, just ... tired. She’d come here to change that, hadn’t she? And Seth Brogan was already part of that change. No matter what she told herself. Say it, or walk away from him, Pip. She shook her head, and her breath caught as the emotion rose up in her throat again. “I can hear my music.”
“That’s why you’re here then,” he said, almost more to himself than her.
She nodded, and pressed her hand to her lips, trying to get a grip, but the sheer relief alone was overwhelming. “I thought I was here to get over the fear of performing, the fear of it happening again, a rupture.” She looked up at him, and his handsome face was a blur now as her eyes swam. “I couldn’t come back from it a second time, Seth. I couldn’t.” Her breath caught again and she looked away, back at the water, at the falls, at the wheel, willing their rhythm to find their way inside of her again, soothing her, smoothing her, supporting her. “I am afraid. Terrified. Of that.”
She felt his blunt fingertip brush away the tear from her cheek, then gently, oh so gently for a man with hands so big, he turned her face to his. “So either that fear swallowed up your music, or your music was too risky a thing to hear. Either way, without your music, there’s no temptation to sing. No music, no risk.”
It made such perfect sense, so clear, so obvious now. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re absolutely right.”
He stared into her eyes for the longest time, and she thought any moment he’d lower his head and kiss her. She saw the want there in his gaze, knew he had to see the same in hers. She’d just started to rise up on her toes, unable to stop herself, when he said, “I don’t know why you get to me the way you do,” he murmured. Then he surprised her by smiling. “Well, I do know. I could give you a list.” His voice was husky, private, his words just for her, and she wanted to grab the collar of his shirt and yank his mouth down.
“I came over here to apologize,” he said. “For being an ass this past week. For ducking out.” He searched her eyes again, and now it looked like it was his moment of truth and she found herself holding her breath. “But this thing, whatever it is between us, at least for me, it’s just—a lot. Maybe too much.”
She tried to ignore the tight squeeze of disappointment that clutched at her heart. “I know,” she said. And she did. He was right. Her rioting emotions at that very moment were proof positive of that. She ducked her chin then, moving back slightly until he lowered his hands. She instantly wanted them back, in case she needed more proof. Too much, indeed. She needed to be honest, let him know he wasn’t alone, put that out there. So she looked up at him and smiled. “I have my own list, if that helps.”
His lips curved at that. “I’m not sure it does.” His gaze remained steady on hers.
“I know, right?” she said lightly, though nothing about this was light. She looked down for another moment, then met his gaze again. “The one who should be apologizing is me. For the past week, I mean. I knew when you didn’t answer me, when I asked you about coming back to the vineyard the day Mabry got hurt, what your answer was.” She smiled. “I mean, you moved me to a cabin miles away for a reason, and it’s not just because you have a lot of work to do.”
“Pippa—”
“It was the right thing to do,” she broke in, before he could apologize again. Then smiled a little more broadly. “Clearly.”
Rather than the dry smile she’d expected, he looked abashed. “I should have—”
“Done exactly what you did,” she finished for him, not letting him apologize again. “I agreed with the decision, so it’s not on you. It was selfish of me to keep coming to the vineyard,” she said. “I made all kinds of excuses to myself as to why that was a perfectly fine thing to do. But it wasn’t, and I shouldn’t have. I guess I just . . .” Now it was her turn to trail off.
“Wasn’t as good at burying your head in the vines as I was?” he finished for her, a hint of that wry note there now.
“Aye,” she said, feeling foolish for putting them both through this. “I promise I’ll leave you in peace from now on.”
He didn’t say anything to that, and his expression was unreadable.
“That is what this is about, right?” Her heart actually skipped a full beat when he didn’t answer right away. She suddenly felt stretched in too many directions. She wanted to go off somewhere, examine her big discovery. She wanted to sit by that creek for hours and let the music fill her until she was drowning in it. Having her music back was enough. It was everything.
Or should be. So how was it that her huge, overwhelming rediscovery didn’t diminish one bit the fact that she wanted the man standing in front of her so badly she burned with it? Take the thing you came here to find, and let the other one go, her little voice schooled.
“From now on, it’s me at the cabin, you at the vineyard,” she said, taking the lead if he wouldn’t. “I’m pretty sure we can control ourselves if we happen to bump into each other in public. We’re managing it right now.”
“Just barely. I want to kiss you so badly my teeth ache,” he said in a husky whisper that thrilled her right down to her toes.
She stood there, stunned by the heat in his declaration, rooted to the spot, every nerve ending in her body screaming at him to just do it.
“But I know if we do, there will be no closing the barn door after that,” he said. “And none of the other considerations have changed.”
The silence stretched out, as if each were willing the other to just go ahead and do it anyway. “You’re right,” she finally said, looking down. Their locked gaze had been so intense that breaking it felt like breaking a physical bond. Still looking down, she said, “Is it okay if I think reality sucks, though?”
He let out a low, raspy chuckle. “Yeah, I’m right there with you.”
Another moment passed, then another, with neither of them making a move to say anything further, nor end the conversation and walk away.
“I’m sorry I intruded,” he said, at length, finally drawing her gaze back to his. “On your epiphany moment.”
“Honestly, you were the perfect person to share it with,” she told him. “Your insight was ... also perfect.”
He nodded, and she smiled, and it wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t good, either. Finally, she smiled again ruefully and said, “Is it weird to feel all sad and devastated, like we just broke up, when we never began?”
A fast grin flickered over his lips, looking almost like relief, but his eyes were still a little bleak. “Not weird at all.” A moment later he turned away from her and faced the creek and the falls.
A moment later, so did she. It felt like a chasm had opened up between them, even though they weren’t any farther apart now than they had been a second ago.
“So, what happens for you now?” he asked. “With your music, I mean.”
“I’m . . . not sure.” She smiled briefly. “You might find me sitting next to this creek a lot.”
“Well, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s never to underestimate the power of Blue Hollow Falls.”
“I believe you’re right about that,” she said softly, thinking he didn’t know the half of it. She watched the waterwheel for long moments as it slowly churned along, pulling up water, pushing it onward, pulling up water, pushing it on again, and let the slow, steady rhythm fill her, as if she was pulling up her own courage, then pushing it over and out. “I like being your friend,” she said abruptly. “I like spending time with you, very much, and I wanted to believe we could leave it at that.” She looked from the wheel, to the water rushing over the falls, and let the rest tumble out. “But you’re right. About that barn door. About this being too much. About me being temporary here.” She wanted to look at him then, but went on and simply finished the rest of what she had to say. “I just wanted you to know I value the friendship you have shown me. Your insight has always been spot-on, and that’s helped me.” She smiled. “And the laughter. I needed that more than I knew.”
When he didn’t say anything, she finally sneaked a peek from the corner of her eyes, but he was still looking at the falls, and what little she could see of his expression was unreadable. She noted he’d slid his hands in his pants pockets, and wondered—far too desperately—if maybe that was a measure he’d taken to keep from reaching for her, once and for all.
Then Pippa saw Bailey was heading their way. “It looks like my mill escort is wondering where I’ve gotten off to.” She waited a moment, but when Seth still didn’t say anything, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and thought, Fine then. “I guess it’s time to see where this next step takes me,” she muttered under her breath, not sure if she was more annoyed with his continued silence, or her inability to just stop talking.
“Anywhere you want it to go,” came just loud enough for her to hear.
She glanced back to him, wanting to know if she should be reading anything into that, but he was still facing the creek. “Thanks,” she replied quietly, as he’d sounded sincere. Then she turned and walked away. There was, after all, nothing more to say. Except, Good-bye, Seth Brogan.
She lifted her hand in a wave to Bailey, willing her eyes to stay dry, her throat to stay relaxed. Her heart not to break. “You don’t ask for much,” she murmured.
Then, mentally kicking herself even as she did it, she glanced over her shoulder for one last look just before Bailey reached her. She was so surprised to see that Seth had turned to watch her walk away that her step faltered, just for a moment. She was too far away now to see his expression, but his stance was steady, the set of his broad shoulders resolute. He looked right at home, fitting in so perfectly with the spectacular backdrop behind him, and yet somehow managing to dwarf it, all at the same time.
And maybe you don’t ask for enough, her little voice prodded. Ignoring it, and the urge to turn around and run right back to him, she resolutely shifted her gaze forward, for good this time, and found a smile for Bailey.
“You ready?” Bailey asked, a smile of excitement on her face.
“As I’ll ever be,” Pippa said, and they walked hand in hand toward the mill.