Chapter Twenty-Two
Nat stamped his feet, trying to restore warmth to his toes. He’d dressed for a short daytime walk, not an evening hike as the temperature dived ever lower. If Elsie was out in this… he pushed the thought away. Speculation helped nobody.
He shone the flashlight around in a circle, calling Elsie’s name, just as had one hundred times before until his throat was hoarse. Looked again for some trace of footsteps. The snow was light, but steady. She must have left the house early enough for them to have been covered by the still-falling snow.
No answer. The silence in the orchard was absolute, eerie. He checked his phone again and swore under his breath. The police were on the way. This was serious, no longer an angry child having a tantrum. A missing child.
He didn’t want to turn back, but he’d be no use out here, a lone wolf hunting alone. At times like this the police would call on every neighbor they could to help, would organize a coordinated search to make sure no inch of the orchard was left unscrutinised. They would want to reference and cross-reference and he would be much more help there than he was out here, blindly searching the entire orchard with one flashlight and a heart full of hope.
Half-turning, Nat paused. He wasn’t far from the shop and café, and the pine forests were just a short walk behind there. It made sense for Elsie to start off her adventure by heading somewhere familiar. It wouldn’t take him long to check and see if she was hiding out near the center, hoping to be found. Decision made, he continued on his way, playing his flashlight around as he walked, continuing to call her name.
The orchard shop was a very different prospect in the dark, all shut up, looming out of the night sky. Nat scouted all the way around, but he saw no sign that Elsie had passed this way. Nat made a mental note to suggest that Linnea open the café, as a focal point for any searches and a potential beacon for Elsie if she was nearby and started back along the parking lot, ready to retrace his steps back to the house and to join the search when the flashlight caught the edge of something that didn’t appear to be a branch or a stone. He moved nearer, keeping the light trained on the strange, snow-covered lump until he recognized the two button eyes, the round head, and ears.
“Nantucket!”
Elsie’s teddy. She had been here. Nat’s pulse began to pick up, adrenaline surging through his body until he no longer felt the cold, just the need to carry on.
He picked up the teddy, brushing the snow off and quickly texted Linnea, telling her he was going to keep searching. Only he was still one man with one flashlight surrounded by thousands of snow-laden trees.
“Where is she, Nantucket?” he murmured to the bear and waited, as if the stuffed toy might actually have an answer.
Something panted in response, a low whine echoing through the trees.
Nat froze. There were wolves in the mountains. Big cats too. Even bears. But not in Marietta. Not here in Olsen’s Orchard near the elf trail, in the parking lot. Not even on a wintry night. But the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in a primal fear and he turned, slowly, flashlight in hand, to catch the glint of an eye.
He stepped back, fight and flight warring with each other, when the animal stepped into the circle of light and Nat cried out in surprise. “Biscuit! What are you doing here? I thought you were resting back at the house? You shouldn’t be out on a night like this.” Sheer relief made him almost giddy, until Biscuit sniffed the bear and Nat remembered why he was out there in the first place.
He eyed the dog speculatively. There was some kind of terrier in Biscuit’s unknown heritage—there was probably some kind of every dog known to man in Biscuit’s heritage. Holding the bear out, he allowed Biscuit to sniff it again, crouching down and murmuring encouragement. “That’s it, take a good long sniff, get the scent. Can you smell Elsie? Can you find her? Where’s she gone? Where’s Elsie?”
Biscuit whined, his ears pricked forward, eyes fixed anxiously on Nat. “Find Elsie,” Nat said again and, after another whine, the dog turned and trotted slowly along the side of the shop, away from the house, heading toward the pine forest, Nat following, feeling more than a little foolish. Biscuit was no trained sniffer dog, he was probably scenting a chipmunk or a squirrel and Nat was wasting valuable time. But now Biscuit had a spring in his step, his nose close to the ground as he purposefully headed into the forest. Nat muttered a prayer and quickened his own pace, following the dog into the dark trees.
“Elsie,” he called, his voice echoing through the night. “Elsie?” Further they went, and then further, not a light to be seen in the winter-heavy skies. Just one flashlight and a phone against the all-encompassing Montana night. Still Biscuit trotted and Nat did his best to keep up. “Elsie!”
Biscuit stopped, his ears moving forward and he whined.
“What is it?” And then Nat heard it. Weak, hysterical, but real.
“Help me!”
With a sharp bark, Biscuit bounded toward the voice, Nat on his heels, crunching over snow, ducking between branches and the slim trunks, barely feeling the scratch of needles and twigs. “Elsie? I’m coming. Don’t move. Nearly there, sweetie.” And there she was, huddled in a dry hollow on the ground, tears streaking her face, her hair falling out of its braids, dirty and nursing her ankle but otherwise mercifully unhurt. Biscuit was on her in a flash, licking her face, his tail wagging at warp speed and Elsie flung her arms around the dog and burst into tears. Nat released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, offering up a prayer of thanks, of relief.
“I think this belongs to you,” he said shakily, handing Nantucket over to Elsie, then stooped down and scooped her up. “Hold tight. Let’s get you home.”
*
It was late by the time all the fuss died down. The sheriff and his deputy left, promising to swing by the next day to check on the runaway and then Linnea loaded Elsie into the car to get her ankle checked out. Nat offered to drive them, but Linnea barely acknowledged him, all her focus on her daughter.
An hour ticked by. Nat waited in the kitchen, Biscuit pressed close to his leg. He wasn’t sure how much use he was waiting, but he didn’t want to go home until he knew everything was okay. Finally, Linnea entered the kitchen, shadows purpling her eyes, lines of exhaustion around her mouth. Nat wanted to hold her tight, to let her lean on him, into him, to tell her everything was going to be okay, but he held back. The barrier she had erected around herself was so palpable it was almost physical and Nat had no idea how to broach it.
He pushed the coffee pot her way. “How is she?”
“Sleeping.” Linnea hooked a chair with her foot and dragged it out, sliding into it with the bonelessness of the truly weary. “Her ankle is twisted, but she has escaped hypothermia, which was my biggest worry. She was chilled through.” She looked over at him. “Thank you.”
“Thank Biscuit. He’s the hero of the hour.”
“Elsie found Biscuit and he returned the favor. No good deed as they say…” Her voice trailed off.
“Did she say what she was doing?”
“She wasn’t really running away, she just hoped that she might scare me enough I would consider moving back east.” Linnea’s mouth twisted as she held in tears and Nat realized he hadn’t seen her crumble once all evening, not after that first, shocked stagger. “Her plan was to hide out in the barn. She didn’t realize it was locked. She headed into the forest to find somewhere to shelter and got lost—and then she twisted her ankle. If you hadn’t found her…”
“Then the sheriff would.”
“A couple of hours later. I just keep thinking what might have happened. I lost my husband. I couldn’t survive if I lost one of my girls…”
Nat had no vocabulary for this, but he had to try. “You’re an amazing mother.”
“Am I? I was flirting with you, making arrangements to go away with you while my daughter was hurting so badly she was packing her bag, and I had no idea she had gotten to such a stage.” Linnea stared at her hands. “She didn’t want to move, she made it clear, told me again and again, but I thought she’d adjust in time. I threw myself into giving her experiences rather than sitting down and listening to her. I gave her everything but my time.”
“Linnea, that is not true. She is happy when she sings, she was in her element when she was being Santa Lucia, all the things you are doing work. She just needs a bit longer.”
“And all my attention, all my focus, I can’t be distracted anymore. Between work and the girls I have more than I can cope with. I’m sorry, Nat. I am truly grateful for all you did for me today, but I can’t see you anymore. Not as friends, not as anything else. I don’t have the time, the emotional space for anyone else. For you.”
Nat knew all about not having any emotional space, knew all about compartmentalizing and moving on. It had just never hurt before. But the hurt piercing him wasn’t just selfish, not just because he liked Linnea’s company, not just because he had been looking forward to being alone with her. But because it was such a waste. This beautiful, big-hearted woman deserved a life full of joy and happiness.
“I understand why you need to focus on Elsie right now,” he said after a pause. “But don’t shut yourself away. You shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to carve out your own happiness. You said yourself, it’s unfair on the girls if you put that kind of pressure on them.”
She didn’t answer for a long time and Nat drank her in. Even with her hair twisted up into a messy bun, no makeup, in an old sweatshirt and jeans, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He ached for the right to hold her, to comfort her.
“I thought a starter relationship might be the way forward,” she said at last. “I wouldn’t get too attached, the girls wouldn’t, nobody would get hurt. But I was fooling myself. You’re leaving. I always knew that. And I can’t risk my happiness, their wellbeing on someone who definitely won’t be staying around. I took my eye off the ball; it’s as simple as that. Took my eye off the ball for something temporary, something ephemeral. The girls deserve better. I deserve better.”
“You do.” His voice was low. He couldn’t deny her truth.
Linnea looked up at him, her eyes so full of sorrow Nat could barely mange to hold her gaze. “There’s no guarantee, I know that. The most promising relationships can go wrong. But if I try again, it has to be with someone who has the potential to be all in. It’s not fair on any of us otherwise.”
“I’d better go.” There was nothing else to say. “I’m glad she’s okay. Will I see you at the rehearsal on Tuesday?”
“We’ll be there. And Nat? Thank you again.”
The drive back through Marietta was treacherous and Nat was almost relieved that all his attention was on the road, on peering through the snow dancing before his windshield, on keeping his tires on the road. That way he didn’t have to think about the sadness in her eyes or the break in her voice when she had told him she deserved better.
Maybe the temporary relationships he seemed to specialize in were best after all. Out on the road, when he was only in a city for a few days, weeks, or months. No one got hurt, everyone understood the rules. But if he was never willing to risk going further, never able to put his heart on the line did that make him a realist—or a coward?
By the time he reached the Summer House the snowfall had stopped. Nat lifted Biscuit from the front seat, carrying him up the porch steps and into the triangular hallway. He stood in the door to stamp the snow off his boots and brush off his coat as Lacey appeared with a towel to rub the dog down.
“There’s a bone for you.” She cooed at the shivering dog. “I hear you are quite the hero of the hour.” She glanced up at her brother. “How’s Elsie?”
“Cold and her ankle is sore, but she’s okay.”
“And Linnea?”
His mouth twisted. “Less okay,”
She shot him a shrewd glance. “We have a fire going. Go on through to the sitting room, I’ll get you a beer and a sandwich.”
Wearily, Nat walked through to the sitting room at the very front of the house. The Summer House was a huge old Victorian, complete with servants’ quarters and rooms that once would have been used solely for billiards or smoking or for a lady’s private sitting room. Lacey and Zac both had office suites, Zac’s with a meeting room and a second office for when he needed one of his employees to work from Montana rather than Silicon Valley. Lacey had an editing suite as well as a study, but there were still several rooms shut up and unused on all floors.
Their favorite sitting room was a large, high-ceilinged room at the front of the house with huge windows looking out from the front and the side. The room was painted a matte white to match the woodwork and the marble of the fireplace, the floor a polished oak, but the cheerful red of the sectional couch and love seats, the vibrant cushions and drapes and the fire crackling in the grate gave the room a cozy air. Biscuit headed straight to the rug in front of the fire, turned round five times and collapsed into a squashed platypus position, immediately letting out a huge snore. Nat took a love seat with slightly less fanfare, wishing he could fall asleep with such an easy conscience. Gratefully, he took the beer and sandwich Lacey held out and stared into the dancing flames, letting the warmth soothe him.
“Everything okay?” Zac asked.
Nat couldn’t bring himself to look his future brother-in-law in the eye. “Fine,” he lied.
“Poor Linnea.” Lacey curled up next to her fiancé, putting her head on his shoulder. Nat couldn’t help but notice how they fit together, two halves of the same whole. “How is she?”
“Remarkably well, she’s a strong woman.” He stared at the flames a little longer. “I was thinking, I might take off before New Year. Makes sense to head over to Nashville sooner rather than later, they’ve been asking me to get there sooner.” He couldn’t look at Lacey as he spoke. Didn’t want to see the judgment—or worse, the understanding, in her eyes.
“Head off? But… I thought you were going to stick around until into the new year?
“I’ll still be here for Christmas, Lace.” He tried for insouciance. “You know what it’s like. There’s a ton of PR set up. I need to do my part and I can’t if I’m in the middle of Montana.”
“Has this got something to do with Linnea?”
Oh, she was sharp. Or maybe he’d just been fooling himself and everyone knew how he felt.
“She’s just had a traumatic experience. She needs some time for her and the girls to settle into Marietta properly, she doesn’t need distractions. We like each other, but there’s no big romance. It’s time to call it a day before things get all complicated and messy.”
“So you’re running away?”
“I’m just going to get some more wood for the fire,” Zac interjected. He dropped a kiss on Lacey’s head. “Go easy on him.”
Lacey waited until Zac had left the room and then she rounded on Nat. “So that’s it? You’re giving up without a fight?”
“I’m respecting her wishes. Besides, I was never planning to stay. Better to head off early than risk hurting her, or the girls. They don’t need any more complications in their life.”
Lacey didn’t speak for a long time, when she did her voice was thick, as if holding back tears. “Growing up the way we did, we never had to deal with conflict. If friendships turned bad or awkward it was fine, we were out of there soon. But life isn’t like that, if you always slip away when things are hard then how will you grow? How will you learn to be happy? You know you have written the best songs of your whole life, the realest things you have ever composed over the last few weeks. You used your heart. Isn’t that worth fighting for?”
Of course it was—but the risk was too much. “What if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”
Lacey’s face softened as she moved to sit by Nat on the love seat, snuggling in as if they were children once again. “Then it will hurt. That’s how life is, brother-mine. There are no guarantees of a happy ending. But if she’s worth it, then isn’t it a risk you should take?”
“She turned me down before.”
“Before?”
“In high school. Didn’t think we should see each other after we left Marietta.”
“Is that why you left before prom?”
“There was no reason to stay around. I’m not the forever guy, Lace. I’m the starter guy, the getting-over-heartbreak guy, but I’m not the forever guy. I need to accept that and move on.”
“You weren’t the forever guy because the timing wasn’t right. It doesn’t mean it isn’t now, or it won’t be in the future. Nat, this is your chance. To choose your own brand, your own direction. If partying in Nashville and making music to sell is what you really want, then go. Have fun. But if you want more, in any area of your life, then you need to learn to fight for it. Happiness is a long game.”
Nat watched the flames dance, his eyes heavy. What if he laid himself on the line and she walked away? What if everything he had ever suspected about himself—that he was good for the here and now, but too insubstantial for the long haul—was true? He’d never been tempted to test the theory. Never been tempted to find out just what he was made of. If things got tough then, like Lacey said, he packed up and moved on.
What would life be like if he didn’t pack up? He’d never contemplated it before this Christmas, but seeing Lacey so happy, his parents so content with their new life, finding himself part of a community, he couldn’t help but wonder. Was the kind of happiness he’d experienced over the last few weeks just for Christmas—or was he worthy of it all year long?
One thing for sure. He’d never find out if he turned tail and ran away. There were no guarantees if he stayed, that was for sure. But it was time Nat worked out what kind of man he wanted to be, what kind of man he was. A man who spoke, who acted from the heart—or the shallow playboy depicted on the cover of his album? Only one road led to happiness. He knew that now. And that kind of happiness had to be fought for, to be earned. He had to prove he was worthy. That he could be trusted. That Linnea’s heart was safe with him.
That it always has been, it had just taken him ten years it figure it out.