by Tawna Fenske
“Francine’s a smart girl,” I acknowledge. “And sneaky.”
“We named her for my ex.” Patti smiles and checks to be sure the live trap has been reset correctly. “Also smart and sneaky.”
I’m not touching that one. “I really appreciate you bringing me out here. What an amazing opportunity.”
“Don’t mention it.” Patti straightens up and nods back toward their cabin. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee, and we’ll show you those notes we promised.”
We trudge back through the snow in silence, our snowshoes making crunchy sounds in the crust of white. It feels good getting back to work, forgetting about Alastair and Gabe and men in general.
All right, I can’t forget about Gabe. Can’t stop picturing the haunted look in his eyes. Should I have been quicker to forgive?
“In you go.” Colleen lines our snowshoes up next to the door and ushers us inside. “Get cozy by the fireplace. I’ll bring the coffee and the field notes.”
“Thanks.” I follow Patti into the living room, admiring the stripped log walls and the rugged beams overhead. “These cabins are great. I never realized the BONK compound was this nice.”
Patti laughs as she settles into a cushy gray chair. “They had good taste for a crazy-ass cult.”
From the kitchen, Colleen calls out her two cents. “It’s been handy getting to stay here. The Feds figured it was a good trade, having us watching over the place.”
“It’s the perfect home base for research,” Patti agrees. “Kind of a shame all the legal crap will be over soon.”
“And then what?” I settle onto a brown leather loveseat, leaving the chair next to Patti’s for Colleen.
Patti shrugs. “Not sure. Probably someone’ll buy the place.”
As Colleen and Patti prattle on about the court proceedings for leaders from the Benevolent Order of the New Kingdom, I pick at a speck of chocolate on the knee of my jeans. From Gabe’s ice cream? It must be. I keep scratching the spot, conscious of the ache in the center of my chest. I’ve kept myself busy today but can’t ignore the fact that my heart aches like a thumb slammed in a car door. What is Gabe doing?
I’ll have to go back eventually to get the rest of my things. If I know my brother, he’s already sent a crew to clear the road. Will Gabe be there when I get back?
“So,” Patti says softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I look up to see her watching me. “Talk about what?”
She smiles and accepts a steaming mug from her wife. “About whatever’s got you looking like someone ran over your dog.”
“Or your Sierra Red Fox.” Colleen hands me a mug of my own and takes a seat beside Patti, eyes filled with sympathy. “It’s none of our business, of course. But it sometimes helps talking to strangers.”
“Strangers.” I scoff and scratch at the chocolate stain again. “I’ve known you two for half a day and already feel like I’ve learned more about you than the last two men I’ve dated.”
“Ooof.” Patti clucks and shakes her head while Colleen sips her coffee. “From the look of you, I’m guessing this last one meant something.”
Something. Everything. God, I’ve been dumb.
“You could say that,” I murmur. “He failed to tell me some pretty major stuff about himself.”
The two exchange a look. Something kind and maternal, and my heart floods with sadness. I miss my mother. My father, too.
Mostly, though, I miss Gabe.
Patti blows on her coffee, eyeing me over the rim of the mug. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, we had a rocky start to our relationship.”
I grip my mug, grateful to focus on someone else’s problems. “How do you mean?”
The two women trade a private smile before Colleen gives a sheepish shrug. “I may have forgotten to mention I was running from the law when we met.”
“What? You?” Colleen’s about my mother’s age, with a salt-and-pepper braid and kind eyes bracketed by laugh lines. She reminds me more of my mom’s friends than an ex-con. “What do you mean?”
Colleen sips her coffee and shrugs. “Before I became a wildlife biologist, I might have dabbled in internet hacking.”
“Might have?” Patti laughs. “She built a program to hack the computers of guys trolling the dark web for kiddie porn. Once she had evidence, she’d tip off authorities.”
“Anonymously.” Colleen smiles and settles back in her chair. “The police don’t take kindly to hacking.”
“Damn.” I study Colleen with new respect. “Good for you.”
Colleen shrugs, twisting the mug in her hands. “They did arrest a lot of pedophiles, but the authorities weren’t amused. Breaking into other people’s computers and stealing pictures isn’t exactly legal.”
Patti pats her wife’s knee and smiles. “Anyway, it all worked out in the end.”
I suspect there’s more to the story than that, but I’m too dumbfounded to know what to ask. “But—” I glance at Patti. “How did you find out?”
She laughs like this is a meet-cute in a romantic comedy. “The police showed up on our fifth date and hauled her away in handcuffs. Until then, I didn’t know she even owned a computer.”
I shake my head, not sure who I admire more. Colleen for taking down a bunch of pedophiles, or Patti for not fleeing at the words “You have the right to remain silent.”
“How did you deal with it?” I ask Patti, glancing quickly at Colleen. “I mean, no offense, but that’s a pretty big piece of information to withhold.”
“True,” Patti admits, lacing her fingers through her wife’s. “Sometimes, the ends justify the means.”
Colleen sets her coffee down on a coaster and gives me her full attention. “I can give you all the bullshit about how I did it for good reasons. How I wanted to be with Patti and that’s the only way I could do it. But you’re right, I withheld the truth. I lied, plain and simple.”
“And I forgave her.” Patti smiles and squeezes her wife’s hand. “Plain and simple.”
I stare at them. “I’m not sure it’s that simple.”
“Why not?” Colleen stares me down. “You’re the one who gets to decide. Holding on to betrayal is like swallowing poison and waiting for the other person to get sick.”
Patti leans out and pats my knee. “It helps to figure out if you’re dealing with a serial liar,” she says. “Is this someone who fibs about drugs or gambling or sneaking around with other women? Or is it something you can handle?”
Can I handle it? I think about the reasons Gabe lied. Definitely nothing like drugs or gambling. Or other women.
He’s nothing like Alastair.
Part of me isn’t willing to let this go. “But doesn’t that make me a dupe?” I ask. “An idiot who failed to see the signs?”
“Only if you choose to see yourself that way,” Patti says. “Or you can see yourself as someone who’s forgiving and trusting and willing to see the good in people. Your call.”
Damn. What if it’s really that simple? If my trusting nature doesn’t make me stupid, but hopeful. If my willingness to see the good in people isn’t a flaw, but an asset.
And what if Gabe really does love me?
The sound of a truck motor jars me from my thoughts. Patti and Colleen frown, glancing toward the window. “You know anyone with a big white pickup that’s got a snow blade on the front?”
“Me?” I stand up and squint out the window. “No, I—”
The words die in my throat as I get a look at the logo.
Ponderosa Luxury Ranch Resort.
“Isn’t that the fancy place over near Bend?” Patti stands up and peers out the window as the truck jerks to a stop.
I’m too stunned to answer as the truck doors open and men tumble out like parka-covered logs. My brother’s first, cheerful in blue snow pants and wind-chapped cheeks. James is right behind him, almost unrecognizable in a ski cap and black puffy coat. Mark looks the same as always, outfitted in Carhartts and yards of
plaid flannel.
And then there’s Gabe.
Gabe and a tall guy who looks a lot like him, with dark hair and the same broad jaw.
But I only have eyes for Gabe. His gaze sweeps the cabins, looking for something. Someone. The instant his eyes lock with mine through the window, his face changes.
“That must be your man,” Patti says.
Beside her, Colleen gasps. “That’s not Gable Judson, is it?”
Patti gapes. “Oh my God, it is. And Dean Judson.” She turns and stares at me. “How do you know them?”
“Um…long story?”
There’s no time to explain, since Gabe’s charging up the walkway. There’s determination in his eyes, and something in his stride that sets my heart pounding.
Colleen shoots me a worried look. “Is this okay? Should I send them away or—?”
“No.” I shake my head, already moving toward the door. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“You and me both, sister.” Patti peers at the line of men trooping up the walkway. “Did he bring a damn army with him?”
“Those are my brothers.” I bite my lip as bootsteps get closer. “Well, one’s my brother. The others are my brother’s brothers, plus I guess Gabe’s brother and—it’s complicated.”
Colleen smiles and steps back from the window. “Sounds like my kind of story.”
The doorbell rings and the three of us look at each other. “Do you want privacy or want us to stick around and look menacing?” Patti asks.
“Menacing’s good.” I reach for the door. “He responds well to being held at gunpoint.”
I fling the door open before they can ask more questions. There’s Gabe on the front steps, looking big and red-cheeked and so handsome my ovaries roll over and twitch.
“Gretchen.” He clears his throat. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry.”
Well, that’s a start.
Patti and Colleen titter behind me, reveling in the unexpected celebrity visit. I hesitate only a second before my heart caves in on itself.
“Come in before you freeze to death.” I usher the men inside, mostly to keep from letting all the heat out of the cabin. Mark has to duck to get through the doorframe, and the guy I’m assuming is Gabe’s brother is just an inch or two shorter.
Jon and James file in last, looking more than a little bemused. “Ma’am.” James nods at the two women. “Sorry to barge in like this. We won’t be long.”
Patti beams. “Make yourselves at home. Coffee?”
Jon cocks his head. “Um—sure.”
I focus my attention on Gabe, not wanting to get distracted. “You said you’re sorry. What for?”
He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “For lying to you. I had plenty of chances to tell you who I was and what I’d done, and I chickened out. I knew how much lying would hurt you, and I did it anyway, and I’m sorry.”
I look into those deep brown eyes and take a breath. “I forgive you.”
I wait for the rush of lightness Colleen and Patti promised. For the heavy weight to lift off my shoulders. It feels good to say the words, but is this it?
Gabe steps forward, not done yet. “Gretchen, I’ve never met anyone like you,” he says. “You’re beautiful and smart and clever and all those things, but you’re so much more than that. I love that you name your appliances. I love that you’re passionate about fox research, but you have no idea who Seinfeld is. I love that you have a filthy coloring book and an electric ice cream scoop. I love that your instinct is to trust people, even when they’re total assholes.”
My eyes fill with tears and I blink them back. “You’re not an asshole.”
The lookalike guy behind him lifts an eyebrow. “Sometimes he is.”
“Sometimes we all are,” I acknowledge. “I think that’s what I’m figuring out. Not that lying’s bad and trust is good or that one of us screwed up more than the other. The point is that we’re all screwups in some way. And it’s up to us to learn from those mistakes so we can be less screwed up the next time.”
Colleen and Patti laugh, and I know I should probably introduce everyone. But right now, I’m focused on Gabe. On this wonderful, strong, sensitive, flawed man who’s willing to mesh his flaws with mine and make the best of it.
“I’m sorry, too.” I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers through his chilled ones. “I’m sorry I left instead of talking it out. And I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through.”
For everything he still has to go through, if the headlines are any indication.
“Thank you.” His fingers squeeze mine. “I love you, Gretchen.”
“I love you, too.”
“Awww.” My brother starts to applaud, but James grabs his hand.
“Show some respect.”
Mark grunts. “Let ‘em kiss.”
I’m not sure how I feel about having an audience for that. I’m spared when Colleen clears her throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just have to say Skeleton Dreams was brilliant. The commentary on violence in our society—I left that theater in tears.”
Gabe’s hand tenses in mine. Just an infinitesimal amount, but enough to swing my gaze to his. His eyes are warm and shimmering with love, but there’s something else.
“Thank you.” He stands a little straighter, voice husky with pride and some emotion I can’t identify. “That means a lot.”
“It’s one of the best films I’ve seen,” Patti adds. “If any of you haven’t seen it, we’re going into town again for the seven-thirty show.”
The other men shuffle forward. “I could use a movie night,” Mark says. “My wife and daughter are out of town.”
Jon shrugs. “Why not?”
The Bracelyn boys introduce themselves to Patti and Colleen, doing their best to explain our complicated family tree. Dean moves to the window, his thoughtful gaze sweeping out over the compound. “There’s some definite possibility here.”
I don’t ask what he means. I don’t care, because now I have some privacy with Gabe.
Pulling him aside, I look into his eyes, searching for what’s troubling him. “You okay?”
He nods and squeezes my hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I really am. I’ll own the fact that I made a lot of mistakes, but maybe Skeleton Dreams wasn’t one of them.”
I grab his other hand, linking us tighter together. “I saw a Google alert about the Oscar nods. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He tightens his grip on my hands. “I might be done making movies, and I’m okay with that. I’m also done hiding. The guy snowed-in with you at the cabin—that’s the real me. The Gabe I want to be, and I’m the best version of him when I’m with you. I love you, and I’m committed to being with you no matter what it takes.”
And there it is. That rush of feeling I wanted, the certainty that this will all be okay. Emotion floods through me, warm and liquid. “I want the same thing,” I murmur. “Wow, that’s—that’s a big step.”
And so distant from my experience with Alastair that they’re not even in the same galaxy. That’s what I’m realizing, more than anything. I was afraid of trusting Gabe, of getting my heart broken again.
But really, it was my own instincts I had to learn to trust. And right now, they’re telling me that Gabe is the real deal.
“I want you to meet my family,” he says. “I want to meet yours, and to be by each other’s sides for all the good things and the bad. I want long-term, Gretchen.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them back. “That sounds good to me.” I laugh, a little dumbfounded at how this is unfolding. “Don’t you think we should have a date first? Before we start making long-term plans?”
He grins. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about a movie?” I offer. “Your choice.”
He laughs and pulls me tight against him. “I’m feeling like a romance, actually.”
“Same,” I murmur, snuggling into his chest. “Let’s go for the happily ever after.”
Epilo
gue
Gable
“Want more popcorn?”
I hold out the container, but Gretchen shakes her head. “I’ll get ice cream at intermission.”
I laugh and slip an arm around her shoulders. “What makes you think there’s an intermission?”
She slips a hand between my thighs, lightly skimming my junk. “It’s the upside of banging the guy who owns the drive-in theater.”
And the upside of being the only people here besides a scattering of other family members. Jon and his wife, Blanka, are parked about a hundred feet away in a pickup truck piled high with blankets and pillows. They wanted to watch the stars, though from the looks of things, they only have eyes for each other.
“Don’t look now,” Gretchen whispers, “but I think James’s BMW is rocking.”
“I’m not looking.” I grab another fistful of popcorn, conscious of the fact that we’re surrounded by lovebirds.
And I’m grateful to be in their company. Gretchen sweeps a hand toward the rows of empty cabins just beyond the movie screen. “This is so weird.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” I pull her closer, kissing her temple. It’s all I can do not to join the ranks of her over-amorous family and invite her into the backseat.
“You guys just up and bought a cult compound,” Gretchen says, reminding me we’re in the middle of a conversation. “With a drive-in. And a water park. And enough housing to hold—”
“A cult?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I’m serious. Very weird.”
“I prefer the term interesting.”
“Interesting, then.” She sticks a hand in the popcorn bowl, giving in to temptation. “I don’t know too many people who’d cough up millions of dollars to buy a vacant cult compound for the sake of a social experiment.”
“It’s a thoughtfully-planned, self-contained community.” I’m reciting the tagline my sisters came up with last week at the family meeting.
Gretchen quirks an eyebrow. “A thoughtfully-planned community of residents who agree to have their lives televised.”
“There’s that.”
In truth, it’s a little weird to me, too. And new.