Finding You

by Carla Neggers

  “I figure the only way to save her from a lynching is if she marries a true-blue Texan,” J.D. said. “That’s you, Danny Boy. Go up to Vermont,” he went on, “and marry the woman.”

  Daniel threw down the paper. “I think I will.”

  A calm had settled over Vermont when Daniel arrived on Thanksgiving Day. It was between seasons: the leaf peepers had all gone home and the skiers were just starting to come out. The landscape was more subdued. It had lost its vibrant color. Now shades of evergreen and brown and yellow and gray dominated. When he drove up Hawthorne Orchard Road, his was the only vehicle out.

  The white clapboard farmhouse was boarded up, awaiting restoration or bulldozing. There was no sign of Cozie’s battered Jeep. He turned down to the sawmill. Still no Jeep. But the woodpile was diminishing, and there was a Thanksgiving wreath on the door. Cozie had moved back in. He could feel her presence. But he didn’t get out of his rented car, and instead went back out to Hawthorne Orchard Road, up to the narrow dirt road that would lead to the orchard and Seth’s sagging house.

  It was there the Hawthorne family had gathered for Thanksgiving dinner. The yard was full of cars, including Cozie’s Jeep. Zep was rolling around in the grass.

  He almost made a U-turn out of there. Let them enjoy their holiday. Find a room at an inn and confront Ms. Cozie in the morning.

  But he couldn’t wait any longer. He’d thought of her every moment of his torturous journey north. Not once had he considered turning back. He wouldn’t now.

  Meg greeted him at the door. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said. “Dinner’s in the oven.”

  Daniel managed a smile. “I can smell it.”

  “Cozie and Seth are out in the orchard. Do you want to let them know you’re here or come in first?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  “We’ll set an extra place at the table,” she said, and smiled. “Good luck.”

  “You know why I’m here?”

  “I hope I do,” she said, and headed back inside.

  He crossed the road and saw at once that work had been done in the orchard. A number of trees had been uprooted, the dead wood cleared out of others. He spotted two figures out across the field. A soft, cold drizzle had begun.

  He resisted the temptation to run. Cozie and Seth were unaware of his presence. Even as he moved closer, the two of them kept at their work. They were planting trees. Seth would raise a huge pick above his head and slam it into the half-frozen ground, making a hole, and Cozie would drop in a seedling and push the soil up around it. Then they’d move up the row and plant the next.

  Cozie had on a brown chamois shirt too big for her. Drizzle had collected on her hair, pulled back with one of her salvaged rubber bands. Daniel’s pulse quickened at the sight of her. Nothing had changed. It never would. He wanted her now as much as ever. He wanted to be a part of her world, to make her a part of his.

  Seth noticed him first. He laid the pick on his shoulder, sweat pouring down his face. “Hello, Daniel.”

  Cozie had started off to her bucket of seedlings, to replenish her stock. She gave a small gasp and flew around. Strands of damp hair hung in her face, and her eyes were as green as in all his dreams.

  “I’m going to get cleaned up,” Seth said. “We can finish later.”

  He loped across the field, looking strong, sure of himself.

  “Well, hello,” Cozie said.

  “Hello, Cozie. Things are a little different around here.”

  “Yes. It took some doing, but I finally got it through my thick skull that my life has changed and that’s meant changes, too, for my family.”

  “It’s okay?”

  She smiled. “So far.” She nodded to her brother’s retreating figure. “He’s decided to finish his degree in forestry. We—Meg and he and I—have worked out an arrangement so the three of us own the land. I finally made them realize it’s not charity on my part: the land is a gift from Elijah and all the other Hawthornes down through the years who’ve kept it in the family. We don’t know how we’ll work out the details, but we’ll do it. Seth is restoring the orchards. We’re putting in some of the rarer apple varieties. He’s got some good ideas. We’re just taking things step by step.”

  Daniel smiled. During her entire speech, she hadn’t given him a direct look. “I’m glad to hear it. What about you? How are you doing?”

  “Just fine. I’ve been getting mail from my fans in Texas by the truckload.” She grinned. “Nothing that I’ve seen from you or J.D.”

  “I wouldn’t call J.D. a fan,” Daniel said.

  “Well, I’ve agreed to be on a Houston talk show next month.”

  “Should be fun.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “I see you’ve moved back into the sawmill.”

  “It’s been nice, but I think it’s haunted. Seems I can’t get Texas and Texans off my mind.”

  Daniel smiled, some of the tension going out of him.

  “The Vanackerns have put the paper and their house here up for sale. Aunt Ethel tried to get veto power over the new owner. I tried—it’s just not in the cards for me right now to buy it.”

  “You could rescue the land but not the paper.”

  “Next year I maybe could swing it, I don’t know. Maybe there’s a way.…” She sighed, obviously pained that there was something her energy and optimism couldn’t get done. “We shut down, you know. First time since the War of 1812. I miss my office, but—well, it’s been nice writing at the kitchen table.”

  “What about your house?”

  “Meg and Seth and I are getting together with an architect next week to discuss our options. We’re hoping to save it.”

  Now why, Daniel thought, wasn’t he surprised?

  The drizzle was coming down heavily now, more a soft rain. A couple degrees colder and they’d be in a mess. Daniel, however, decided to wait Cozie out. The next move was hers.

  Damned if he’d propose to her in the rain.

  “Would you care to join us for Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  She peeled a damp strand of hair off her cheek and tucked it back more or less into place. “Good,” she said, and darted past him out across the field.

  For two cents he’d have grabbed her, thrown her over his shoulder, and hauled her under a pine tree and made love to her in the November drizzle. But instead he followed her up to her Jeep.

  “I have to run back to the sawmill and change,” she said, and he saw the touch of fear in her eyes.

  “Is it an Ingrid Bergman day?”

  “Nope.” The fear receded, and she shot him an impudent grin. “Donna Reed.”

  Her one and only Donna Reed dress was from the last scene in It’s a Wonderful Life, when Jimmy Stewart decides not to commit suicide after all and finally gets his due from the people he’s helped. Cozie had had it done in a warm, deep red, with a hand-tatted lace collar. It was as prim and romantic as she ever got, and she loved it for the holidays.

  She was breathless and somewhat lightheaded when she came down from the loft. Daniel was still there. He’d filled the wood box. His gray eyes were lost in the shadows as he watched her come down the stairs. Her response to him, so elemental and raw, threatened to overwhelm her on every level.

  “Before we go,” she said, “I have a confession to make.”

  “Oh?” He seemed ready for anything.

  “I’ve bought a ranch,” she blurted. “In Texas.”

  His brow furrowed. Clearly her admission wasn’t within the realm of what he’d steeled himself for.

  She said, “J.D. says it’s not my idea of a real Texas ranch because it doesn’t have tumbleweed, although he promises a few rattlesnakes.”

  “J.D.? Cozie, what the hell—”

  “Still, it’s got possibilities. It’s a hundred acres. I know that’s small by Texas standards, but it’s on a stream—or a creek, as J.D. says. It has a sad, dilapidated old log cabi
n that could use fixing up, but I want to save the tub; it’s a classic claw-foot. J.D. says he’d tear down the whole damned place, but I believe it has historical and architectural significance. We New Englanders aren’t always so willing to rip things down and start over. A little continuity with the past is good—so long as it doesn’t keep you from plunging ahead into the future.”

  Daniel stood frozen in front of the woodstove, the hard lines of his face stark. She wanted to touch him but knew she had to wait.

  “J.D. says—”

  “What’s all this ‘J.D. says’?”

  “Oh. We’ve talked several times. He says if you don’t straighten me out on Texas, he will.”

  Daniel took a step toward her. “This ranch—”

  “We’re still doing the paper work,” she interrupted, breathless. “The owner was reluctant to sell. But it seems he wants to relocate to Vermont. I’m not sure he really does, not full-time.”

  “Then it is my ranch.”

  “Was, Daniel. I suppose, technically, you could stop the sale, but I’d probably sue.” She made a soft sigh. “You see, that’s what happens to you rich people. You turn your affairs over to underlings….”

  “You and J.D. cooked this up?”

  “Mm. He really is an interesting fellow. He warned me not to show my face in Texas again until I was safely married to a native or had recanted my columns. I think he’s exaggerating.”

  “J.D. never exaggerates.” He took another step toward her.

  “Well, I’d never marry anybody just to save myself, and I’m not one to recant.”

  “Even when you’re wrong?”

  She grinned. “Aunt Ethel would say especially when I’m wrong.”

  He was directly in front of her now. Another step and he’d knock her over. She could sense the warmth of his body, see the small scar at the corner of his eye, and she yearned—ached—to feel his mouth on hers. “Why would you marry?” he asked.

  “Because I was in love.”

  He touched her chin; she’d washed up, done her hair, applied makeup. “Are you?”

  She didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t. “Yes.”

  He swept an arm around her and pulled her to him.

  But she held back. “Wait. I need to know. What happens when there’s a big oil fire?”

  “If J.D. needs my help,” he said, “I’m going to help him. I can’t pretend I wouldn’t.”

  “Good. You won’t get bored leading a regular life?”

  “I was bored before. I belong here—”

  “In Vermont?”

  “With you,” he said, drawing her hard against him. “It doesn’t matter where you are, where we are. You’re enough, Cozie. You alone are enough.”

  Daniel was asked to carve the Thanksgiving turkey. More guests had arrived. He didn’t know how the little house, neat and clean, held them all. The woman who sewed Cozie’s clothes and her four children were there; the father apparently had finally checked into an alcohol addiction treatment center. There were four old men and women gathered in the living room, including the infamous Thelma and Royal. Emily Hawthorne, who twenty years ago could probably have passed for her older daughter, was showing them brochures of Scandinavia. She planned to venture there next spring, provided her children learned to behave while she was away.

  Seth had cleaned up and changed clothes. He seemed pleased to have his house bursting with people from two to ninety. The Hawthornes were accustomed to taking in strays. Daniel liked that.

  It was a huge bird. He did a walk-around of it before he started to carve. “Native Vermont turkey?” he asked Cozie.

  “I don’t know. Your parents sent it.” She pointed to an enormous basket of fruit. “Your grandfather sent that. You Texans do things up big, don’t you?”

  He was about to give her an answer that would shut up even big-mouthed Cozie Hawthorne when her aunt burst into the kitchen. She had on a full head of steam. “Some Texan’s bought the Citizen,” she announced. She glared at Daniel. “That wouldn’t be you, would it?”

  He grinned. “It would.”

  “You don’t know anything about the newspaper business!”

  “Then I’ll have to let you Hawthornes run things.”

  Cozie was staring at them both, stricken, no doubt for the first time in her life, speechless. Her aunt grunted. “Well, that’s the way it’s been for two hundred years.”

  She marched into the other room, and Cozie narrowed her eyes on Daniel. “I hope you didn’t buy the paper to save me.”

  “Nope.” He grinned at her. “I figured there’d be no peace in Woodstock, Vermont, unless Ethel Hawthorne was safe at her desk across from the common.”

  “Any more surprises up your sleeve?”

  “Me? Lots. What about you?”

  She removed the knife from his hand and hooked her arms around his neck, drawing his mouth toward hers. “More, I hope, than either of us can imagine.”