It didn’t take long, and once he’d finished speaking, complete and utter silence reigned, shock rippling through the entire hall.
Then the whispers started, becoming mutters, getting louder, and several people got to their feet, starting to ask questions. Soon more people were on their feet and more questions were asked, some of them starting to be shouted, and in less than five seconds, pandemonium erupted.
“Be quiet!” Astrid’s cool voice cut through the noise like a sword slicing through silk and just as precise. “I realize you all have questions, but shouting them all at once won’t help. One at a time, please.”
There was a sullen muttering at that, but people quieted, some of them settling back on the hard wooden benches that had been set up for them to sit on, but more than a few continuing to stand.
Hope felt her heart beating hard against her breastbone as she surveyed the familiar faces of the townspeople, seeing worry and concern and uncertainty, not to mention excitement too.
“Okay, first up, a few facts.” Silas’s hard voice fell over the few remaining whispered conversations like an iron bar, crushing them flat. “Since I don’t live in Deep River anymore nor am I intending to stay here, I’ll be signing my ownership of the town over to someone else.”
“Morgan?” someone asked. Morgan was still in Juneau doing some kind of police training. “She’s the logical person.”
“No,” Silas said. “I offered it to Morgan, but she refused.” Voices rang out at this, but Silas raised his hand, silencing them. “No, I don’t know why. You’ll have to ask her.”
“What about this oil?” This was from Malcom Cooper, the big, bluff man who owned the market. “Did anyone know Caleb was prospecting? Why the hell was he doing that, anyway?”
Several other people began to comment, but Silas said over the top of them, “Again, I don’t know. There was nothing about his reasons in the will, and he didn’t say anything to me about it either. I was as surprised as you all were to hear he’d been getting Deep River checked out.”
“So what does it mean for leaseholders?” This was, unsurprisingly, from Mike Flint, who’d never given up his luxury motel dream, no matter that the rest of the town had panned it. “Money-wise?”
People were nodding at this, a small chorus of yeses erupting, and Hope felt the tension grip her harder, because this was getting down to the nitty-gritty. Anticipation rippled through the assembled crowd, people looking excited, avid. There would always be a few blinded by dollar signs.
“That’s a good question.” Silas swept his gaze over everyone, his expression hard. “When Jacob began this town a century or so ago, he had a vision for it. A vision he wanted to preserve, and that meant it was always going to stay a leasehold town. But he needed to attract people here, so retaining mineral rights for leaseholders had to be part of the deal.” Silas paused. “It’s still part of the deal. In Jacob’s era, it was all about gold, but that’s gone now. You folks retain the rights to the minerals on your property and that includes oil.”
There was another stunning silence.
“So, let me get this straight,” Mike said, narrowing his gaze at Silas. “We have the rights to whatever’s under the ground?”
“Yes.” Silas didn’t hesitate, and Hope couldn’t help wincing at his honesty at the same time she admired the hell out of it. Some people might have kept all of this quiet, but not Silas. He remained true to the spirit of this town and always had, even if it meant things would change and maybe not for the better. “You can sell those mineral rights to an oil company or you can keep them for yourself, pay a share to a company to drill.”
Another murmur rippled through the crowd.
“No, we can’t do that!” Gwen, Harry the survivalist’s girlfriend and instigator of the popular hot yoga classes currently sweeping the town, surged to her feet in a cloud of patchouli and muslin, long blond braids falling down her back. “We can’t sell rights to an oil company. Think of the environmental damage!”
“Aw, pipe down, California,” someone muttered from the crowd.
“Who said that?” Harry growled, standing up beside his girlfriend and looking menacingly around. “Gwen’s got a right to speak, just as much as the rest of you. She lives here.”
“Sure,” Mike said, crossing his arms. “But she doesn’t have any dependents. My mom needs to go into a retirement home because I can’t give her the care she needs. The damn environment’s not going to pay for that, is it?”
“So you’d rather have drills and heavy machinery raping the land?” Gwen exclaimed passionately. “Cutting down the trees and destroying the ecosystems that animals depend on?”
Hope muttered a curse under her breath because soon this would head into territory that’d put people at extreme loggerheads. And not just between people who cared about the environment as opposed to people who had more pressing and personal concerns. It would also be between the townspeople who’d been here for a couple of generations as opposed to the people who’d only been here a couple of years.
Money, as she’d feared, was a huge issue. And the irony wasn’t lost on her that it had been money and the gold rush that had first brought the town into being. Maybe it would also be the thing that heralded its end.
She pushed herself away from the wall, not knowing what she was going to say, only that she needed to say something to defuse the situation, when her mother got to her feet and said loudly, “I had a call from someone wanting to buy the Moose’s lease. He offered me a lot of money. Could this have something to do with the oil?”
Everyone quieted, starting at her.
It didn’t surprise Hope that her mother had put two and two together. She might be mentally fragile, but she wasn’t stupid.
“I had a call too,” Nate Wilson, owner of the Gold Pan, put in unexpectedly. “He wanted to buy the hotel.”
Hope watched as Silas narrowed his gaze at Nate. “Did he give you a name?”
“No,” Nate said. “Only said he’d stayed in the hotel a year or so ago and really liked it. Really liked the town.”
“He told me the same thing,” Angela added. “Said he wanted to get out of the city, go somewhere small.”
Silas’s expression became even harder, the green in his eyes sharp as a knife. “Right, so conceivably this guy is the same person.” He gave everyone a fierce look. “Anyone else get a call?”
“I had a couple of messages from some guy on my phone,” Mal said gruffly. “Didn’t call him back because he didn’t leave a number.”
Silas’s gaze suddenly met Hope’s, and she blinked, the air escaping her lungs for a couple of seconds, the impact of it almost physical. She couldn’t read what was in his eyes, but there was a ferocity in them that felt familiar somehow. And she knew why.
He’d given her the same look the night he’d left.
* * *
Si wasn’t sure exactly what had made him look at Hope, but suddenly he needed to know what she thought about all of this. Because given that three people had now been called by what was starting to look like the same shady guy, he wanted to see how she was taking it.
Not well, judging by the tension in her posture. Her expression remained mostly unreadable, but he recognized the uncertainty glittering in her eyes.
You can’t leave her to deal with this alone. Not the way you did last time.
Something hardened inside him. A decision.
As he’d told the assembled crowd what was happening and watched the expressions on their faces change, he’d realized what his conscience had been telling him since the day Cal’s will had been read—he couldn’t simply drop this on his hometown and leave them to deal with the consequences. Couldn’t leave this all on Hope either. And not because he didn’t think she could handle it, but because it wasn’t fair.
Thirteen years ago, he’d walked away from a situation he
should have helped out with, and he just couldn’t do it a second time. He wasn’t twenty anymore. He wasn’t that boy who’d been ground down by caring for an alcoholic father who only noticed him when he was drunk, by being in love with a girl who didn’t want him. Whose fledgling hopes for his own future as a pilot seemed as though they would never happen.
No, he’d left that boy behind. He had his own life now, with the piloting business he’d always wanted, and a group of buddies who had his back. Things were different and so was he. And he wasn’t going to run away like he had before.
Sure, Damon wanted him in Juneau, and he hadn’t intended to stay in Deep River more than a couple of days, a week at the most. But maybe Damon could wait. And maybe he could stay to help Hope and the town figure out their direction. He was still the owner, after all, and no matter that he didn’t live here, he had an obligation to make sure this transition ran smoothly.
Damon would be pissed, but he would live.
Nothing at all to do with the fact that Hope’s not so immune to you after all, right?
No, of course it wasn’t. He’d already decided he wasn’t going to complicate matters by crossing the line with her, and he wouldn’t. He’d stay to act as a support for her, nothing more.
He kept his gaze on Hope’s a second longer, then looked back over the crowd. “I think we want to be careful of this guy,” he said. “If he hasn’t given you any details about who he is, then given the timing of his offers and the number of people he’s called, I think it’s sketchy as hell.”
“You think it’s a guy from an oil company maybe?” Mal asked.
Silas nodded. “I do. I’m pretty sure Caleb would have kept the fact that he was prospecting on the down low, and since no one else knew he was doing it, that was pretty successful. But maybe word’s gotten around somehow that there’s oil here, and there are some people who want to take advantage.”
There was a rumbling of voices at this, people muttering things to their neighbors, some of them nodding their heads while others shook theirs.
More questions would no doubt be asked, and if this wasn’t managed carefully, it could devolve into a massive town argument. It was probably better to dismiss the meeting now, give people a chance to let the news settle in and figure out how they wanted to deal with it. They could arrange another meeting in a week or so, once everyone had had time to process what was happening, and then they could field more questions, get a sense for what most people wanted to do, and try to come to some consensus about how they were going to handle it.
A couple had already begun to throw questions around about money and what would it mean to sign away mineral rights, not to mention how drilling would work, but he shook his head. “Let’s not get into discussing that right now,” he said, raising his voice to silence a few of the conversations happening in the back of the hall. “I suggest you go away and think about it for a few days, decide what you think is the best course of action for you, and then we’ll meet again to talk about it.” He paused, staring out over the assembled crowd, conscious of all the people he didn’t know and of all the people who didn’t know him. Conscious too that this town wasn’t what it had been thirteen years ago, that it had changed just as he had, and that he didn’t know anything about those changes. He didn’t know anything about this town as it now was.
But still, he went on, “Remember the spirit of Deep River. Remember why Jacob West created it all those years ago. He wanted to make this place a haven for people who didn’t belong, a place of safety and shelter. And it’s been that way for over a hundred years. Let’s not ruin it now.”
“Wait,” Mal said as everyone prepared to rise. “You said you were going to sign ownership over to someone else. Who is it?”
Silas could feel the pressure of everyone’s interested gazes as they all turned to look at him, and suddenly he didn’t want to tell them about Hope, not yet. And not because of any open hostility or resentment or even suspicion. He just didn’t want to leave her open to everyone’s reaction, especially when she hadn’t been all that happy about having to take on the responsibility.
So all he said was, “That’s still under discussion. I will let everyone know when it’s finalized.”
Five minutes later, everyone had filed out of the community center, the buzz of conversation following them out the doors.
“Liked what you said about not ruining the spirit of the town,” Astrid said, pausing beside him as she made her way out. “That was a good note to end on. Good plan to end the meeting and let the news settle in too.”
“Thanks. Thought it was the best way to defuse any potential arguments.”
Astrid glanced toward the open doors. “You might have a few of those waiting for you outside.”
She wasn’t wrong. He could hear a few people talking and not quietly, obviously lingering outside, perhaps to ask him some questions. Well, he was more than happy to answer them. He had nothing to hide.
“I can deal with it,” he said shortly.
“I’m sure you can.” Astrid gave him an unreadable look. “You going to be around for the next meeting, then? Or was that for my benefit?”
Silas met her gaze straight on. “I thought I’d stick around. If it’s all the same to you.”
“Why?” Hope’s voice at his elbow sounded sharp, and he turned to find her standing beside them, a suspicious look in her eyes. “I thought you said you had to head back to Juneau.”
“And I think that’s my cue to leave,” Astrid muttered, obviously picking up on the tension. “Let me know when you need me to call another meeting.”
Silas waited until Astrid had gone, then he said, “I do. But it can wait a week or so.”
“You don’t need to stay on my account.” Hope folded her arms, giving him a challenging look. “I can handle it.”
Even in the harsh light of the hall’s fluorescents, her hair looked glossy, the deep auburn tones glowing like the embers in her eyes, all signs of the fire she kept smoldering under that tough, practical exterior.
He had a sudden, intense urge to pull at the tie that bound her ponytail and let her hair fall over her shoulders, bury his hands in the silken mass of it, release that fire he knew was inside her. Release the woman he remembered from years ago, passionate and wild, full of dreams and a relentless optimism that had saved him on more than one occasion.
He’d often felt that she hadn’t been called Hope for nothing.
His fingers itched, but he folded his arms to stop himself from reaching for her, because even though he’d decided to stay a little longer, that didn’t mean he wanted anything more from her than friendship. Hell, he barely even had that. Perhaps instead that’s what he could start rebuilding. He owed her that, at least.
“I know you can handle it,” he said. “Hell, if you can deal with Joe and Lloyd every Friday night for thirteen years, you can deal with this damn town arguing about oil.”
“Then why stay? You’re not needed, Silas.”
That stung, even though it shouldn’t have. “Perhaps not. But I left when crap went down and I don’t want to do it again.”
Her jaw hardened, as if she found that offensive. “So, what? Is this some kind of redemption move? Making up for the past and all that bullshit? Because if it is, I’d rather you didn’t use me to do it.”
Mad. She was always so mad at him. Prickly and defensive and snappy. Yeah, he got where she was coming from, that she still hadn’t forgiven him for the way he’d left years ago or for not contacting her. So maybe it was time he started working toward that. Maybe he could start rebuilding the friendship they’d once had.
“I know I screwed up, Hope,” he said, addressing the anger still burning in her eyes. “I know I hurt you, that both Caleb and I hurt you. And I’ve already told you that I’m sorry about it. And I meant it. And I’m staying because I want to do better. No, you don’t
need me, and I know that. But I’m going to stick around anyway, just in case.”
Hope stared at him, still radiating annoyance and something else he couldn’t quite figure out. “You think an apology is going to fix thirteen years of absence?”
“No.” He wasn’t fool enough to think that. “But I think it’s a start.”
Her jaw was tense and so were her shoulders, and he knew she was fighting not to give him a single damn inch. God, she was stubborn. But then her stubbornness was the thing that had kept her going all this time, wasn’t it?
“And what? You want to fix things between us? Is that what you’re saying?”
“What do you think? Of course I want to fix things between us.”
“Why? So you can get me into bed?”
An arrow of heat shot through him, no matter that it shouldn’t have, which pissed him off. “No.” He scowled. “Why the hell would you think that?”
Hope lifted her chin. “You told me you wanted me. And then after making a big song and dance about how you have to leave, you change your mind. What else am I supposed to think?”
Anger licked up inside him. “I’m your friend, Hope. Yes, I said that, but I already told you I don’t expect anything from you. That’s not why I’m staying.”
“Well, I don’t want you to stay.” Her arms dropped to her sides, an intense, kinetic energy radiating from her, like she was a horse about to bolt. “I didn’t ask you to.” Then, weirdly, she stepped right up close to him, her head tilting back so she could meet his gaze. “I didn’t want you to stay then and I don’t want you to stay now.” Her hand shot out, her fingers curling into the fabric of his T-shirt and holding on. “You should leave, Silas,” she added fiercely.
Then, in a move he hadn’t seen coming and would never have expected, not in a million years, she held on to his T-shirt as she came up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
Come Home to Deep River Page 10