by Susan Haught
“He probably thinks I’m an incredibly bad influence on his daughter and wants me out of here.”
“Bad influence? No. Incredible? There’s no question.”
“Logan, please,” she said, resting her palms on his chest. “Don’t make this any harder.”
With his finger, Logan lifted her chin and kissed her eagerly, one rooted in passion and longing for what could be, not the restrained sigh of a good-bye kiss. And when his lips left hers, she felt their absence, an ache for the loss of time and space and of his being, and the evidence of that absence stained his jacket. This time, he kissed her cheeks as if to erase the pain leaking from her eyes, but nothing he did could shield the cry of her heart.
She drew away.
Logan answered by closing the distance between them, his arms around her a shelter to the pain of letting go.
Ryleigh tried again to step away. “I need to go.”
He tightened his embrace.
“What are you doing?
Moisture gathered in his eyes. “Crying with you, Cabin Number Three.”
And they did.
Words clogged her throat, words she needed to say but couldn’t form, ones left unsaid with each passing moment. Her body turned liquid, for it seemed more than she could bear. And she prayed for one more ounce of strength to let go. And to let him go.
He took her hand, the connection between them like the draw of magnets thrown together at opposite ends. He stroked her cheek, her neck and let her hair fall through his fingers. And he looked past her eyes and touched the places only he knew, the feeling as feral yet as intimate as mink on bare skin.
“I won’t let you fall.” With a forefinger, he brushed her nose and then he squeezed her hand and she let his fingers slip from hers. And let him go.
She watched him leave as she had done with another man. Unlike that day, she felt no bitterness, no anger—only the indescribable pain of the moment; the moment her heart would surely break as the man she’d fallen in love with disappeared around the corner without a backward glance.
The emptiness was staggering. She grabbed the doorframe to steady a world slowly tilting in all the wrong directions. Every nerve cried in protest. Every bone ached as his last words echoed in her mind. I won’t let you fall. “It’s too late, Logan Cavanaugh.” Tears blurred her eyes and the ache touched her heart. “I already have.”
After reapplying her makeup to hide the telltale signs of her emotion, Ryleigh battled the compulsion to look back but refused to give in and walked straight to the lobby.
Rose greeted her with open arms and a smile that could melt a mountain of snow. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Collins,” she said with a stifling hug. “How was your stay?”
“Magical, Rose. A fantasy.”
Rose dipped her chin and raised her eyes. “Magico come l’amore nuovo?”
“You sound like Mr. Cavanaugh.”
Rose lifted her arms. “Oh my goodness,” she cackled, raising an ample bosom. “His Italian is, well, a bit lacking yet.”
Ryleigh frowned.
“He’s a quick study, but he’s got a long way to go. He’s looking into purchasing a vineyard in Italy. Maybe as early as summer. It’s quite the buzz.”
“I see.”
“It’s a beautiful language. My husband seems to get his jollies out of seducing me in his native tongue. Last name’s Corleone, you know,” she said, winking, “just like in the movie.”
Ryleigh smiled.
Rose shrugged and released a long sigh. “Of course, now that Mr. Cavanaugh is leaving,” she said with a sly smile and let the notion die on her lips.
Ryleigh glanced around. “Is Logan—Mr. Cavanaugh around? I’d like to say good-bye before he leaves.” To see him once more…
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. He left a few minutes ago for Chicago. And for some reason beyond me,” she said, raising her hands in resignation, “he mentioned returning to his ministry as well.”
The impact of the words threatened to buckle her knees and she prayed it didn’t show.
“Oh, dear,” Rose said, “of course you wouldn’t know.” She patted Ryleigh’s shoulder. “Besides being one hell of a businessman, he’s a minister. And a damn good one.”
A shadow crossed over Ryleigh’s heart as the pieces fell together in complete understanding.
“I certainly hope he changes his mind,” Rose said, visibly distressed. “He’s proven he’s the cog that keeps Wentworth-Cavanaugh Properties turning. He’ll be sorely missed.”
“Yes,” she said, looking away. “Sorely missed.”
The silhouette of the Rocky Mountains shrank in Ryleigh’s rearview mirror, and the harder she pressed the accelerator, the deeper the ache became. Not only was she leaving a place that had left an indelible imprint but one where she had reluctantly opened her heart only to lose it under a blanket of snow.
The road unfurled behind her, the resort and her memories a shrinking blip in the mirror. “Crossfire” played on the radio, the lyrics a trigger to an avalanche of memories—dark clouds and storms, secrets, and of heartache, and it stirred her flesh as if the man she let slip away had touched her skin. The keen sensation opened a cavern in her heart, and a chill settled inside her, deeper and more intimate than she thought possible.
Across the lobby, Logan stood transfixed in front of the window, the silver SUV leaving the parking area.
“Mr. Cavanaugh,” Rose said, waving. “I thought you’d left.” She hurried toward him, holding a picture frame. “I reframed Laurie’s picture for you,” she said with a shrug, “and you just missed Ms. Collins. She wanted to say goodbye….”
Goodbye. The thought froze in Logan’s mind and he nodded, unwilling to shift his attention and miss the last glimpse.
“You never did tell me how you fared through the storm, Logan.”
“It was magical, Rose. The storm of the century.”
“I see,” she said, faking a cough. “Clearly. You didn’t come through unscathed after all, did you?”
Logan leaned against the window and turned to her. Rose pursed her lips and held the frame to her chest. She followed his eyes to the window and watched him straighten as the silver SUV passed over the bridge and out of sight.
“You can’t bring her back, Logan.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I’m not talking about the woman who just left,” she said, approaching him.
Logan’s eyes landed on the woman nearly a foot shorter, but who stood stalwart before him.
“I meant the one who left you three years ago.”
He glared at her.
“Laurie’s gone.” She placed her hand on his arm. “And Ryleigh is right in front of you.” Rose straightened. “Don’t be a fool,” she whispered with a hard, challenging gaze and then squared her shoulders and handed him the newly framed photograph. “Your memories will always be there, to call upon. But it’s time to live again. To make new memories.” She squeezed his arm and walked away.
The trail of her words hung in the air.
Nothing could have prepared him for the devastating loss that threatened to split him in two. Living without the woman who had shown him he could love again blinded him from the past and sheltered the future. But guilt had won, overshadowing any rational thought of a future beyond his transgressions.
With his thoughts in an upheaval of confusion, he would have sold his soul to the devil for an answer.
Chapter Thirty-Two
RYLEIGH CLOSED FROST’S book of poetry and bunched her knees to her chest. A fleece throw warmed her outside, but her insides were as cold as the icicles hanging from the eaves. Reading the words only reopened the scar left on her heart.
The sky had turned from gloomy to angry and dusted the lawn with snow. Kingsley jumped to the sofa mercifully disrupting her thoughts and curled himself at her side. She massaged her fingers behind his ears and the cat settled into a noisy purr. “This is the first snowstorm since…” Emotion tangled her
words as she watched the snow accumulate, as did recollections of another snowstorm not long past.
“Earth to Ryleigh? Are you in there or somewhere fabulous with your gorgeous imaginary hunks?”
“Hey, Nat.” Ryleigh quickly tucked the book beside her, patting the cushion for Natalie to sit. “I didn’t hear you knock.”
“I have a key, remember?”
“Remind me to change the locks,” she said, and forced a smile.
Natalie sat next to her, the movement jostling the cat. “You wouldn’t dare. Who’d take care of this mangy cat when you’re away? Right, Kingsley?” At the sound of his name, the cat rose, leered at Natalie, and sauntered off. “I swear that cat hates me.” Natalie rested her chin on her knees. “Your eyes aren’t smiling. Time to fess up, my friend. Besides, you won’t answer your phone. And when you act like this, I launch into rescue mode.”
“I don’t need rescuing.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Natalie shrugged. “But whatever’s going on, maybe I need to be here?”
Ryleigh faced her, the need to be upfront more important to herself than her best friend. “It’s the first snowstorm since Whisper of the Pines.”
Natalie nodded.
“I should have heard something by now.”
“About what? Your publishing date?”
“No, those dates are set. PrestWood fast-tracked publication. The book will be out in mid-May.”
“You don’t sound too excited about it.”
“I’m thrilled—if I don’t go to jail first for killing my son,” she said, and shot Natalie a conspiratorial glare. “I thought I could trust him and my friend with my manuscript.”
Natalie squirmed. “You wouldn’t be cashing a fat check and getting ready for book signings if Evan and Demi hadn’t sneaked it to the publisher.”
“I’m teasing. I’m extremely grateful.”
“So, if not your book, what is it?”
Ryleigh retrieved the Frost book and handed it to her. Only weeks old, the cover already showed signs of wear.
“Frost. Your fave.”
“Open it.”
Natalie opened the book, removed the bookmark and read aloud.
“‘Dear Cabin Number Three,
These last few days have opened my eyes in more ways than you will ever know. Three years ago, I stopped believing in miracles. Three days ago, you were my miracle. The moment I saw you standing on the deck in the storm, I witnessed an angel with a halo as pure as gold surrounding her and God’s promises stirred in my heart. I thought I’d fallen in love again with God, but I was mistaken. I already loved Him. It was you I’d fallen in love with.
I will not know a night’s sleep without reaching for your touch. I will not take a breath without your delicate scent a reminder of your flesh against mine. I will not open my eyes to the night without beholding the purr of moonlight on your skin. I will not hear the rush of a river without hearing your laughter in its lullaby, and I will not speak without the whisper of your name escaping on the wind. I will not seek the warmth of a fire without the memory of flames dancing in your ocean green eyes. And my heart froze as surely as the ice when you slipped from my grasp.
I can’t quiet the resounding unrest I feel without you, nor can I deny the irrevocable truth of a betrayed promise. My transgressions weigh heavily upon me, yet how can I feel regret for what we shared? As I try to remember everything about you, the memory is nothing compared to your flesh as one with mine. Until the day the Lord calls me home, you will forever be a part of me, Cabin Number Three—the woman with the eyes the color of the inside of an ocean wave. Believe me when I tell you I never meant to hurt you. Ti prego, perdonami. Please forgive me.
‘Fireflies hover out of fingertip’s reach, just beyond capture they flutter and sway—so close I can feel them as I feel you, your tender embrace though we’re oceans away.
Eternally,
~ Logan’”
Natalie’s mouth gaped.
A soft blush warmed Ryleigh’s cheeks. “We met in the Reading Room at the resort. I told him I favored Robert Frost’s poetry but didn’t see anything by him, so he brought this for the library the next day,” she said, nodding at the book in Nat’s hand. “He must have slipped it in my suitcase the day I left.”
Natalie sighed, flipping the bookmark between her fingers.
“The first evening we ended up in the sleigh together and he dropped me off at my cabin. I didn’t offer my name, so he called me ‘Cabin Number Three.’ He rarely called me anything else.”
“Holy shit! How romantic.”
“I warned you this place was magical.”
“It’s a fairytale come to life.”
“More like fiction.” Ryleigh sighed. “I haven’t heard from him since.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“Nothing. Stupidity is one of those things we see clearly after the fact. Silly me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I took a chance and it didn’t work out. And now I feel like my heart is being ripped apart.”
“Why didn’t you call him?”
“I made the first move. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“There’s nothing wrong with taking a chance. Sometimes it needs no consideration, it’s just…right.”
Ryleigh picked at her nails.
“Second thoughts?”
“Plenty. But I knew the risks.” She blew a breath through puffed cheeks. “I started a fire I don’t know how to put out.”
“Maybe it’s just supposed to simmer.”
“Maybe,” she said, pleating the fleece between her fingers, “but it’s hard, you know? To wait for something you know won’t happen.”
“You sure about that?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said with a definitive nod. “What’s even harder is letting go completely, when what you’re giving up is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“What’s your next step?”
She took a deep breath. “Being with him proved I can love again. Move on. And,” she said and then hesitated, “I know Chandler can’t be part of my life.”
“It’s about time,” Natalie said, glancing sideways at her. “But it won’t be easy telling him.”
“I haven’t had the courage to face him. So far it’s just a bold statement from the mouth of a coward.”
“Umm, Riles?” The bookmark settled in Nat’s hand. “This isn’t a bookmark. It’s a business card,” she said, confusion settling into a grin. “Logan Cavanaugh’s business card.”
“I didn’t know who he was at first.”
“Wait a sec,” Natalie frowned, “the inscription in the book—his?” She stabbed a finger at the book. “My Logan? Well, not my Logan.”
“Yes, your Logan.” Ryleigh smiled hesitantly. “And yes, his words. Except for the last verse. He must have memorized it from one of Ryan’s poems.”
“Okay,” Natalie settled firmly into the cushions, “from the beginning.”
Ryleigh told her the story, minus a few details. “When I left, Rose told me he was going back to the church.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s a minister.”
Nat’s eyes widened. “No way,” she said, fanning herself.
“He betrayed his promise he made to his dying wife. And it’s my fault.” Her chin fell to her knees. “Of all the people in the world, I fell for someone I can’t have.”
Nat scrunched her nose. “I have a feeling there’s a lot more to this story.”
“He rescued me that weekend, Nat.” She smiled at the recollection. “Twice.” A breath of cold swept over her and the tiny hairs on her arms rose in silent reminder.
“I’m listening.”
“I don’t know how spending three days with someone can change your entire perspective. Your life. Your future. He made me feel whole again. Like I belonged with him.” She frowned. “I’ve never known anyone so attentive to what I said or did.” She rubbed her hands in quiet contemplation and then twirled her ha
ir around her finger. “And he saved me when I fell through the ice—”
Natalie sat upright. “What?”
“I didn’t drown.”
“Unless I’m talking to a ghost, I figured that much out on my own.”
She told Nat how she had wandered too close to the water’s edge and the ice had given way. And though she’d never been reluctant to tell her friend about anything, she couldn’t bring herself to reveal the intimate secrets shared with only one person. Even being the wordsmith she was, she couldn’t find words. Nor did she want to.
“Do you have a picture of this knight in shining armor?”
Ryleigh swiped a moist cheek with the back of her hand. “The camera fell into two feet of snow. Or maybe the river. I went swimming before we’d had a chance to take any pictures.”
“Jesus, Ryleigh. Do I want to know how he saved you the second time?”
“He taught me to love again. It’s as if I’ve been sleepwalking through life and I didn’t know how to start over. I never knew how close,” she said, clenching her hands to her chest, “how intimately into someone you can become so quickly. It’s as though I was born to be with him. Does that make any sense?”
“I found Mitch, didn’t I?”
Ryleigh nodded. “Logan awoke a part of me I didn’t know was dormant. Loving him felt so right.” Recalling the memory struck her hard, but she forced herself to swallow past the pain of remembrance. “Somehow he saw through me, the lost me, and showed me the courage to believe in myself and accept my past—not following in someone’s footsteps, but my own path. I’d become someone I thought I was supposed to be, instead of just me. And who knew a pastor could be so sensual and so damn sexy?” Her eyes sparkled. “That part doesn’t seem right somehow.”
“Remember The Thorn Birds?”
“That’s fiction.”
“The point is, Riles, he may be a man of God, but he’s a man first.”
She sighed. “I may have lost him, but to experience what we had comes once in a lifetime and if this was my chance, then I consider myself lucky. Even if it was only one intimately long weekend.” She rested her head on her knees. “I never had that kind of passion with Chandler,” she said, picking specks of lint from the throw.