Charming the One: (Meadowview Heroes # 3) (The Meadowview Series Book 7)

by Rochelle French

  “You’re leaving?” Neva blurted out.

  Carla whipped her head around and put a hand to her chest. “Don’t sneak up on people like that unless you want death by heels.” She dropped a five-inch stiletto into the case. “I wanted to stay longer, but my CEO called. There’s a client my company has been trying to land. He’s agreed to meet today, but has only a brief window during a short layover in Sacramento. I need to get down to the airport and meet him. I should leave in about ten minutes if I’m going to get there on time.”

  “But…” But we haven’t finished talking, Neva wanted to say. She still didn’t know what had brought Carla to Meadowview.

  “I’ll be back, I promise,” Carla said, a whirling blur of energy as she grabbed items off the floor, off the bed, off the bookcase…behind the bookcase? How could a T-shirt end up there? And wasn’t that Neva’s T-shirt?

  “Maybe next time bring a maid,” Neva joked hollowly.

  Carla stopped what she was doing and faced her sister.

  “I was kidding,” Neva said hurriedly.

  “I know.”

  “And I’m sorry. About all the assumptions I made. And all those nasty things I called you.”

  “No apology is necessary. You believed the party line about me. And for many years, I did, too, until slowly, the bits and pieces fell into place.” Carla stopped her frenetic pace and sat down on the bed, twisting the ring on her finger. “It took a lot of effort, but I finally was able to move away from the box Mom and Dad put me in and understand who I was. What I was.”

  Funny, but Trudy Prendergast had mentioned a box the night of the fundraiser. What was it she’d said? Something about the past as a box that people put themselves into but didn’t think to escape. Carla, though, had found a way out of her container.

  Something struck her. Her sister had put emphasis on the word “what” when she said she’d finally understood herself. What did that mean?

  The understanding took a moment. Memories came out of hiding in Neva’s mind—images stored away long ago that poked their heads out from behind the curtain Neva had drawn. Her sister, surrounded by boys at school but never dating any of them. Going to school dances without dates. Crying at Senior Ball when her best friend spent the entire night making out with a boy. Glowering at their mother when she joked about Carla “marrying well.”

  “Neva?” her sister asked. “Are you okay?”

  Surprise had her speechless. Not shock, just surprise that she’d never picked up on the clues. And a bit of anger toward herself that she’d been so dense for so many years. “Oh my god. I finally understand.”

  “I’m confused…”

  “I’m sorry I was so dense. I can’t believe it took me this long.”

  Slowly, understanding filled Carla’s eyes. She gave Neva a nervous half-smile. “You figured it out.”

  “Are you, um, a lesbian? Or bisexual? I mean, it doesn’t matter to me, but I want to be respectful.”

  “Um…lesbian.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “We were raised a certain way. I had to go through a lot to understand who I was. I think in my heart of hearts, I was scared you wouldn’t understand and I’d lose you.”

  “But you let me think you’d seduced Joel. That horrible misunderstanding kept us apart for years. I’m not arguing, I just want to understand.”

  “I came to see you that weekend because I planned to come out to you. But then Joel was nasty and you—”

  “I believed the worst.”

  “It all comes back to the past, doesn’t it? Mom and Dad, putting us in our proper places and expecting us to behave exactly as they wanted us to. You the tomboy, me the beauty queen. You saw what you were trained to see. I don’t fault you,” Carla quickly added.

  “There’s so much I’ve gotten wrong in life.” Neva lay back on the bed. Her sister flopped down next to her and entwined their fingers together. “I’ve judged people. Put them in categories and not looked beyond the labels to see who they are. I stayed stuck in the past, like a Neanderthal.”

  Carla giggled. “You’re far too tall to be a Neanderthal.”

  “I’ve been horrible to Peter, too. He was such a good friend and I hurt him so much.”

  “He knew about me, you know.”

  Neva sat up. “No, seriously? But he never said a word. That must be what he was talking about when he said he knew stuff he couldn’t share.”

  “The day Dad died, Peter came across me when I was crying. He was so nice to me, even after I’d been such a bitch to him for years. I broke down and told him everything. I made him promise not to out me, and he’s kept that promise. He’s a good guy, you know. You couldn’t do better than Peter Leary.”

  Neva chewed her lip and flicked her gaze out the window. “I know. And I messed everything up. I hate that he’ll leave Meadowview thinking I don’t even want to be his friend.”

  “But you two were having sex. Surely there’s something between you, right? And it wouldn’t be all that difficult to continue the relationship. I mean, yes, he’ll be off traveling, but you can travel with him during off seasons. And there’s always video chatting. Not the same as being in person, but video sex is better than no sex.”

  “That’s just it, though. We were having fabulous sex, but then we had a big fight and he doesn’t much like me anymore.” He loved her, but he didn’t like her. Although, Peter had seemed more open this morning as they rescued Brat. “I’m in love with him,” she said plainly.

  “Does he know?”

  “No. But I don’t see what good it would do. He needs to go after his dream.” That, and he didn’t want her any longer. Love wasn’t enough when there was no respect.

  “I’m going to give you some advice,” Carla said, “whether you want it or not. We’re both living with a boatload of regrets. Don’t do anything that will make you have regrets later. Find him. Tell him how you feel. The rest will be up to Peter.”

  “It’s as easy as that?”

  “Yup. Just like eating pie. I promise. Now go get some clothes on and head over to his place and talk to him.”

  The phone buzzed in her back pocket. She fished it out and answered before thinking.

  “Neva? It’s Delilah. I wanted to ask about those apples. Peter stopped in on his way out of town and said I should give you a call. I’d like to—”

  “He’s leaving town? Today? But I thought he was leaving in nine days, not now.”

  “Oh,” Delilah said, her tone puzzled. “Well, I don’t quite know. He said he was going to the bus station. I can see him through the window. He’s sitting on the bench. Looks like he’s waiting for the noon bus.”

  Worry spread through her system. It wasn’t as if Peter was about to disappear over the edge of the earth or journey into space, but God, she owed him a personal conversation. She had to see Peter, had to tell him what she’d finally, after all these years, realized about the two of them. What she’d come to realize about herself, really.

  She glanced at the clock on her phone. Eleven forty. “Um, Delilah, can I call you back? I need to take care of some personal business.” Like go find Peter at the bus station and beg him for his forgiveness.

  The diner owner cheerfully agreed, and Neva hung up in time to catch a pair of jeans and white stretch cotton tank Carla threw at her.

  “You can’t go to declare your love in a towel. Besides, I think these jeans are yours, anyway,” Carla said.

  “Thief,” Neva said as she slipped on the jeans. “These are my favorites, by the way.” She slid into the tank, not bothering with a bra.

  “How do I look?” she asked. She whipped the towel off her hair and flipped the long blond mass back and forth a few times. Her hair still dripped, but she didn’t care.

  “Like a wild woman. Really good. Dad would have hated the look.”

  Neva grinned. “No more boxes, right?”

  Her twin smiled back. “Never again.”

  Neva grabbe
d her sister and pulled her in for a long hug. “I know you have to go. Please know how glad I am that you showed up. And that we’ve both found the key to getting out of the containers Mom and Dad shoved us into. Sorry it took me so long.”

  Carla hugged her back, long and tight and oh so hard. “I love you, sis.”

  The words grabbed hold of Neva’s heart and wrapped it with warmth. “Love you, too!” she shouted as she ran through the house. She snatched her keys off the kitchen counter and raced outside to the truck.

  Seconds later, she sat in the front seat, heart pounding, glaring at the dashboard as the engine turned over but wouldn’t catch. Dead battery. The truck had come with the farm in the purchase—the Hendricksons having no more use for a twenty-year-old Ford F-150. They had warned her it would need a new battery, but she hadn’t anticipated the damn thing dying right when she needed it the most.

  “You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?”

  She glanced up to see Carla outside the driver’s window, suitcase in her hand. “The battery on the truck died.”

  “We can take the Lexus.”

  “No. You’d be late meeting your client. Sacramento’s the opposite direction of the bus station. It would take you an extra twenty minutes.”

  “You could always call one of your friends and ask them to give you a ride.”

  “My friends don’t live here. Candice is in Portland, and Anne—”

  “I meant your Meadowview friends.”

  Neva scrunched up her forehead. “What friends?”

  “Neva. Get real. You live in a town full of people who talk to you. Who invite you to parties. Who bring you pie. Those kinds of people are called ‘friends.’”

  The truth came quickly this time. A soft and gentle nudge at her psyche. “You’re right,” she said softly. She did have friends. People. A community who liked her, who supported each other and would support her, too. If she only asked. She’d refused help for as long as she could remember. Her father’s voice echoed in her head:

  “A Tipton never asks for anything,” he’d said.

  “Don’t disappoint me by pleading,” he’d said.

  “Only wimps ask for help,” he’d said.

  Only the Senator had been wrong. Totally and completely and utterly wrong. Strong people knew when to ask for help. And she may have been a disappointment to her father, but wasn’t a disappointment to the people who truly saw her. The people who mattered. The people who were her friends.

  “I know exactly who to call,” she said.

  Five minutes later, she was tucked into Trudy’s Prius, white-knuckling the armrest as the woman took the twists and turns of the winding road into town. “Thanks for getting me,” she said, hoping Trudy couldn’t see her fingers turning white. The car whipped around a corner and she prayed she wouldn’t throw up before they reached the bus station.

  “Call anytime. That’s what friends are for.”

  “We are friends, right?”

  Trudy laughed. “That question doesn’t even deserve a response. Just tell me, is this mad dash to find Peter for a special reason?”

  When Neva called Trudy, she said she needed a ride to the bus station to see Peter, and quick, but hadn’t expounded on the reason why.

  “He’s leaving town. I need to tell him something in person before he does.”

  “Would this have anything to do with why you were pretending to be your twin the other night at the fundraiser? I meant to ask you about it during the dinner at the Grange the other night, but you and Peter ducked out rather fast.”

  “You knew I was pretending to be Carla?”

  “Sure,” Trudy said as she passed a slower vehicle at a high rate of speed, coming close to almost taking out the other car’s side mirror. Neva hunkered down into her seat and surreptitiously (she hoped) tested the seat belt to make sure it was fastened. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed,” Trudy added. “Chessie Gibson asked me if I knew what was going on, and so did Delilah.”

  “I’m a little shocked,” Neva said. “I really thought I looked and acted just like Carla. When we were young, own mother couldn’t tell us apart.”

  “Oh, you did a great job imitating your twin, all right,” Trudy laughed. “But Carla knew my fiancé is an art photographer, not a painter. Besides, what made it super obvious is that every time you look at Peter your eyes go all soft and you have this air about you like you want to either kiss him or strip him right then and there. Your sister looks at him with fondness and friendship, but not lust.”

  “He had a huge crush on her in high school. She was never interested in him.”

  “But you were?” Trudy glanced over at Neva.

  “He was my best friend. I loved him.”

  “And you still do.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Trudy laughed. “To everyone but you and Peter, I’m guessing. Sometimes it’s the people who are in love who are the last to know.”

  How true, Neva thought. It took Peter breaking off their friendship, a forest fire, the potential loss of her farm, and an abandoned porcupine to get her to see the truth. She loved Peter Leary.

  The slats in the metal bench bit into Peter’s ass. He thumbed through his phone, checking yet again to see if the electronic files had come through. Not yet, but the courier from the Sacramento law firm would arrive at any moment. The delivery service wouldn’t drive on a graveled road, so he’d agreed to meet the courier at the bus station.

  He checked the clock on his phone again. The courier was late.

  A Prius whipped around the corner of Market and Granite Streets, almost taking out Miss Ethel as she crossed the street. Peter squinted, but the light was in his eyes and he couldn’t tell if the car had the delivery service logo on the door or not. It pulled up next to him with a squeal of brakes. “Who drives a Prius that way?” he muttered under his breath.

  The passenger’s door flew open and a rather green Neva stumbled out. His heart revved. He jumped up and put a hand under her elbow to steady her as she stood on shaky legs. What was she doing at the bus station? “Your knees aren’t gonna go out from under you again, right?” he asked.

  She wobbled, but regained her balance. “I’m not quite used to the windy country roads,” she said. Then, more quietly, she murmured, “Or Trudy’s driving. She seems to think we’re on the Autobahn.”

  From inside the car, Trudy called out, asking Neva if she needed to stay. Neva shook her head and gave a half-hearted wave. The Prius silently zoomed away.

  “Apparently I now have friends,” Neva said, the words coming out on a nervous chuckle.

  He was itching to tell her what he’d set into motion, but worry held him back. What if she didn’t want his gesture? This morning, after making things semi-right with his old man, he’d found Maude and made his case for doing what was right for Neva.

  But Neva hated asking for help—always refusing what she felt was charity. Could be she’d reject his proposal out of hand, without consideration. But he’d never know if he kept standing there in silence, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  She blinked, swallowed, and looked off over his shoulder, her gaze fixed on something other than him. “I had to find you before you got on that bus,” she said.

  He shook his head, puzzled. “Who told you I was taking the bus?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You can’t leave town before I tell you something important.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Please listen. I’m not sure I can get through what I want to say without breaking down and crying. I have a speech in my head but I don’t know if the words will come out right.” She was shaking again, but this time not because of Trudy’s wild driving. Some strong emotion had her in its grips.

  Instead of responding, he simply reached out and cupped her chin in his hand, silently encouraging her to meet his gaze with hers. When their eyes met, he gave her a soft, encouraging smile that she
reflected back.

  “Okay, here goes,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Last night you told me you loved me and I went and threw that love in your face. I need you to know something important. Probably the most important ‘something’ in my life.”

  Seconds passed, marked by the chirp of crickets and the distant croak of frogs. Peter waited, letting Neva set the pace.

  “I know I don’t deserve being your friend,” she continued, “but you were the best friend anyone could ever have. You deserved to have a better friend than I was all those years ago. I let my insecurities and my assumptions get in the way of simply asking you what happened between you and my sister. I’ll regret that until the end of my days.”

  She’d been a kid. They both were. He’d been just as at fault for the loss of their friendship as she. He could have pushed harder, could have kept trying to get behind her defenses to find out why she’d abandoned them. He wanted to tell her, but this was her moment. Neva needed to open up on her own.

  “I still want to be friends,” she blurted. “If you don’t want to be my friend, I get it—I’ve been awful to you. But I can’t let you head off into the great beyond without telling you how much I want to be your friend, and more importantly…how much I love you.”

  His breath caught in his throat. Hope rose, but his common sense stifled the buoyant sensation. “You love me like a friend, you mean.”

  “Yes.”

  Her answer pulled his hope back to earth, like a kid reeling in a kite.

  “Like a friend,” she continued, “and a lover. I don’t deserve even your friendship, and I’m not asking for you to forgive me. Or even like me. All I want is for you to know before you leave Meadowview for good is that I love you, Peter Leary. You have my heart.”

  Hope went flying back up into the stratosphere. “You love me.”

  Before she could answer, a small Fiat with a Foothills Document Delivery emblem etched on the door zoomed up next to them. A young man hopped out, a manila envelope and a clipboard in his hand. “Are you Peter Leary?”

  “That’s me.” Peter reached for the clipboard and signed with a pen the young man pulled out of his shirt pocket. In front of him, Neva shifted from foot to foot. The light caught her damp hair, gold highlights flickering in its thick depth. Her lips were red from her teeth worrying them. A rapid heartbeat fluttered in her neck.