by Ev Bishop
“Turn here,” Brian said, directing them to the right, interrupting her morose thoughts.
“Are we actually headed somewhere specific?” she asked.
“You’ll see,” Brian said, grinning.
The kids galloped away on the straight stretch again. Then suddenly they stopped, staring at something invisible from Katelyn’s vantage point.
“Holy cow!” Lacey yelled, and they both tore off again—then vanished.
“Hey, wait up,” Katelyn called, but this time they didn’t comply. She and Brian jogged to catch up and a second later, she saw what had brought her kids to a standstill and tempted them into ignoring her.
“Oh my goodness . . .” Her whisper trailed off. “It’s . . . beautiful.” But beautiful seemed inadequate. It was mystical. Otherworldly. Magical. Awe-inspiring.
Beside her, Brian inhaled like he was gathering strength for something. “I know, right?”
A meadow of yellow, pink, and purple wildflowers stretched as far as the eye could see, flanked by protective walls of vivid green forest and navy mountains. In the foreground, a lazy creek danced and frothed over massive flat rocks and craggy stones. In the far distance, a weathering house beckoned to her. Deserted before it was finished, it stood silver and proud and somehow expectant in the tangerine glow of the setting sun.
Brian took Katelyn’s hand to help her down a rock strewn four-foot drop—the reason you couldn’t see the meadow from the trail until you were almost on top of it. For a second Katelyn was completely distracted from the view by their skin-to-skin contact. Her pulse thudded.
They followed the crushed grass footpath Sawyer and Lacey had created, and a soft burbling sound like suppressed laughter grew louder.
“Mom, look,” Lacey said, wonderstruck. “There’s even a bridge.”
And there was. A faded boardwalk spanned the creek in a gentle arc, complete with a sturdy, protective railing on either side constructed of gnarled branches. It was both rustic and enchanting, perfect for this forest-fringed fairyland in the middle of nowhere.
As the four of them clomped over the bridge, Sawyer muttered, “Trip, trop, trip, trop,” happily under his breath, obviously relating the bridge to his favorite fairy tale, “The Three Billy Goats Gruff,” but equally obviously from his grin, not thinking of the ogre at all.
The bittersweet feeling clamped Katelyn’s heart all the harder. This moment was beyond special. It felt, impossibly and surreally, like some sort of homecoming as the four of them marched together toward this previously abandoned house that waited to be made into the home someone had envisioned once upon a time.
“This land belonged to one of the area’s earliest homesteads,” Brian said. “The site was chosen because of its access to the river and the train tracks that run along it. The original cabin, and later, a larger house, were destroyed by house fires.”
Katelyn gasped at the coincidence—that Brian would find this spot after his own loss.
He shrugged as if hearing but no longer needing her unvoiced sympathy, clearly enjoying his tale. “Then, twenty or so years ago, some distant relation of the original family decided to live here and built this house—but he stopped mid-project and never came back. No one knows why.”
As Brian spoke, Katelyn noticed details that supported his story. Here and there were stumpy remains of burned out fruit trees, black char marks still visible if you looked closely. Beyond them was a pile of river rock and the crumbling remains of a chimney, still standing after all these years.
Lacey bent over something nearby in the long grass. Further digging, prodding and wiping revealed a pretty piece of brass rimmed porcelain—the decorative front plate of a wood cook stove. She held up her prize triumphantly and Brian high fived her with enthusiasm.
“We’re standing in what was once the kitchen,” he explained. “You can still find bits of the old foundation too.”
“It looks like they had a whole orchard,” Katelyn said as she recognized what might have been rows of trees at one time.
“Yep, and there’s a massive patch of strawberry plants and mint that have gone wild too.”
As they got closer to the abandoned building, Katelyn’s awe grew. The house was a classic farmhouse shape and style, which sort of embodied what she’d describe as her dream house if ever asked. It was two stories tall with a bay window off the front of the main floor and two dormer windows on the top floor. Remarkably, all the glass was still intact.
A wide staircase led to a wraparound veranda. Katelyn could practically see a collection of brightly painted rocking chairs lined up for the four of them. She pictured a porch swing in the corner too, like Jo and Callum had, always filled with a cozy quilt to snuggle in while they watched stars light up the evening sky.
Brian shook his head. “It’s such a shame, hey? Imagine building a whole house, complete with glass, doors and a shingled roof—and then just walking away. Callum can’t believe the waste. He figures the builder ran out of money, or had some family tragedy or something.”
Katelyn prodded the first step with one foot, testing it for sturdiness.
“Everything’s still solid,” Brian reassured.
She climbed a few more steps. “Someone has to know the story of this place. Greenridge is a small town.”
“Yeah,” Brian agreed. “Callum just hasn’t found out yet. He didn’t even know it was here. A realtor cold-called him, thinking he and Jo might be interested.”
Katelyn stepped onto the verandah and put her hand on the front door’s knob. It turned easily under her hand, but she released it like she was burned and stepped back.
“What?” Brian asked, alarmed.
“Nothing.” She shook her head, not having the foggiest idea how to articulate the tumult of emotions colliding through her.
“Can we go in?” Sawyer asked eagerly. Katelyn scooped him up and buried her face in his sweet little boy neck. The pain in her heart was spreading through her limbs, poisoning the whole evening. Brian would live and build a home here. She knew it. That was why he was showing it to her, not to gloat, but because he was excited. Maybe he was even thinking of it as a project for him and Naomi—
She cut that thought off. It didn’t matter. It would never be her home with him.
“Yes, shall we?” Brian said.
“No,” she said. “I can’t.” She knew she was being confusing and weird, to her kids and to Brian, but it was unavoidable. She couldn’t cross that threshold with Brian, couldn’t go room to room with him and the kids, imagining them, their things . . .
“Please,” Lacey wheedled.
“I said no.” Katelyn carried Sawyer down the stairs, in a hurry to retrace their steps and retreat the way they’d come.
Brian’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. She turned reluctantly to face him.
He lifted Sawyer from her and placed him on the ground. “Why don’t you guys see if you can find a few strawberries? It’s early yet, but there might be one or two ripe ones.”
“Can we, Mom?” Lacey asked.
She nodded wordlessly and the kids sprinted away, excited and eager. Watching them, her heart ached and her throat burned. There was so much she wanted to give them—and so much she’d probably never manage to.
The light was starting to fail, and Katelyn was skeptical about the possibility of them finding any berries. It was merely a ploy to keep them busy, so Brian could talk to her alone. She crossed her arms over her chest and Brian’s brow creased.
“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” he asked softly.
“Just . . . everything.” She uncrossed an arm long enough to wave at the property as a whole, then wrapped it tightly around herself again.
“I don’t understand.”
She shrugged.
“Talk to me. That’s our thing. What we do.” In the deepening dusk, Brian looked as miserable as she felt. He reached out and traced her jaw with his fingers. “Are you upset about Naomi? If so, I need to clarify som
ething. We’re not dating, let alone going to live together. She only meant I was moving in with her as a renter. When you got the wrong idea, I thought it might be—”
“Easier for us to maintain some distance if I thought you had a girlfriend out of the blue?” Katelyn finished the sentence for him and knew she was right. It was immediately obvious to her, and equally clear that she’d only jumped to conclusions in the first place because she was as desperate as he was to try to put something, anything, between them.
Brian nodded.
“Our efforts to keep away from each other and our attempts to let our feelings die down don’t work very well for us, do they?”
Brian shook his head exaggeratedly, which made her smile. She motioned toward the house once more. “It wasn’t misunderstanding about Naomi that made me twitchy back there—or if it was, it was only part of it. Why did you want to show me this place?”
Brian shifted his weight from foot to foot. “It was supposed to be me running it past you, like asking if I’m nuts to even be considering buying it, fixing it up—but,” he shook his head, “now that we’re here, I realize exactly what’s freaking you out.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. “What I was really doing is showing you our house, the place we’re supposed to make a home. Together.”
“But we’ve already established this so many times: I can’t, Brian. I can’t.”
He nodded. “And I wouldn’t have dragged you here, except I didn’t consciously realize what I was doing. Then we arrived and I saw the longing in your face as you looked around, and I realized what I was hoping for.”
“Mom!” Lacey’s indignant shriek pierced the quiet. “Sawyer’s picking green berries.”
“That’s okay—”
“No, it’s not! That means there won’t be any red ones later and that’s not fair!”
Katelyn sighed and shot Brian an apologetic look. He smiled, but his eyes were pensive. “We should get them home anyway. To be continued?”
Katelyn nodded, but she felt afraid. She knew where she wanted the conversation to go. She knew where—and what—she wanted to be continued. But was it fair to Brian to lead him on when she couldn’t stay? It was clearer than ever that he saw himself in Greenridge long term. No matter how they felt about each other, they had no future.
But you asked Steve for a divorce precisely for this reason, to start clearing a way for you and Brian to be together, her inner voice lectured as Brian lifted Lacey to his shoulders, distracting her from her outrage at her brother.
And look what that’s gotten me! a different part shrilled back. Steve is furious. I should never have entertained the daydream. It’s too dangerous. For me. For Sawyer and Lacey. And for Brian.
Chapter 28
Amazingly and mercifully, the kids went to bed without complaint, done in by the long walk, a simple but good meal of vegetarian chili and buttery rolls, and three bedtime stories, one read by her, two read by Brian. The observation pained Katelyn: Brian would be a sweet, involved father someday—just not to her kids.
She lit a couple candles and poured them each a mug of chamomile tea. Lord knew, she needed the calming effect.
“Is it to be continued time?” Brian asked. She nodded.
They sat thigh to thigh on the couch, and it was impossible for Katelyn’s whole body not to remember their not-a-date date. The feelings it had forced her to admit would not go away, apparently, no matter how stupid, ill-timed and impossible they were.
She sipped her tea, enjoying the solid presence of Brian beside her even though she knew she shouldn’t.
“I’m sorry.” Her whisper split the comfortable seam of silence.
“No, I’m sorry. I really like you, Katelyn, maybe even, I don’t know, could love you, like really love you.”
It was the first time he’d spoken the L-word to her; she wished he’d just curse or swear instead.
“And I’m selfish,” he continued. “I keep promising myself I’ll leave you alone, but then I miss you so much that I convince myself I can handle it, that we can pull off just being friends. I mean I have other women friends. It’s seriously not that hard—”
“Just with me it is.”
His laugh was sad. “Yeah, you get it. As usual.”
“I feel the same way and worse, like I’m leading you on, saying one thing, but doing another or acting in a way that makes a liar out of me.”
“No, I get it. The things you want and are striving for are smart and necessary—but your heart just happens to be as stupid and illogical as mine.”
Now it was Katelyn’s turn to laugh. And it was sad too. “I guess it’s like the old saying, the heart wants what it wants.”
Brian sighed. “Exactly.”
They each took large mouthfuls of tea, as if seeking to fortify themselves.
“So where does that leave us?”
Katelyn groaned. “I don’t know? Tortured? Suffering cruel and unusual punishment?”
Brian chuckled. “Well, I guess there’s some comfort in the fact that it’s not one-sided agony.” He clapped his hand on her knee.
It was a simple, companionable gesture. It shouldn’t have felt sexual in any way, but Katelyn shuddered and clenched her mug in both hands, struggling against a wave of arousal. Why did his nearness, let alone the merest physical contact with him, always trigger this over the top reaction? What was wrong with her? Why was a touch between them never just a touch?
“No, never fear that,” she agreed.
He grinned, but his eyes were rueful in the candle’s glow. “This back and forth, hot and cold, stay, no go . . . it’s killing me.”
“Me too. It will be better once I move away.”
“What if you can’t move?”
“What do you mean?” Katelyn had been feeling relaxed, meltingly so even, but now her backbone solidified again and all her muscles tightened.
Brian sighed. “Steve is a grade A, all caps total douche bag, for sure . . . but it’s a very rare judge that will permit a parent to relocate a family for no other reason than to punish the spouse.”
“It’s not to punish him!”
“I know that and you know that, but it’s not like you’re being forced to relocate for work or better opportunities. If anything, it’s a sounder financial decision to stay here, and it’s less disruptive to the kids. Plus, the new trend in the courts is to go with ‘the best interest of the children,’ and for some reason that has been translated into having contact with their biological parents, pretty much regardless of what one parent has done to the other parent or even to the children. The judge will frown on a move just for a move’s sake.”
He was right and she knew it—just like, in her darker moments, she knew she would be tied to Steve for the rest of her days, divorced or not, shared geography or not, because they had kids together.
“I’ve been calling about rentals in town for the fall,” she admitted.
He nodded. Their cups were almost empty.
“So where does that leave us?” he repeated. “If you’re living here . . . ”
Katelyn took a deep, wobbly breath. “For weeks now, for months even, I’ve been wanting to say we should go for it. That’s the whole reason I decided to finally get divorced, so we could . . . explore what’s between us.”
The happiness her words sparked in Brian’s eyes brought a lump to Katelyn’s throat, so sharp it was like she’d swallowed glass. He must’ve been able to read her expression as easily as she read his, however, and his countenance fell.
His voice was soft. “But you also keep wanting to play it safe, to focus on building a life for you and Sawyer and Lacey without bringing down any more of Steve’s ire than is absolutely unavoidable.”
She nodded miserably. “And I can’t ask you to wait for me to sort myself out. It’s not fair.”
“I don’t even know what I’d be waiting for,” he agreed. “I’ve never seen myself as a long-term c
ommitment guy, but it’s like I said, I can’t stop seeing us together, no matter how much my brain yells, what are you thinking? Are you nuts?”
Katelyn slammed her empty mug down on the end table. “I know. Exactly. Why, since we both want nothing more than friendship, can’t we just turn off the bloody romance and fireworks machine?”
“You should go,” she said a moment later. Brian nodded and moved to comply, but then she placed her hand on his arm and he stayed put. Next, despite every line of logic ripping through her brain and every rational reason why she shouldn’t do what she was about to, she added, “but first, if you want, if it won’t make everything worse, you should kiss me good-bye.”
Brian reached across her body to place his empty tea mug beside hers, then settled back to sitting—but with a greater space between them than had existed seconds before. He looked at her for a long time, staring first into her eyes, then dropping his gaze to her mouth, then meeting her eyes again.
“Kiss you good-bye until we meet up next, or kiss you good-bye as in we’re going to stop seeing each other, going to stop . . . whatever this is?”
She had no good answer, and after a second’s pause he shrugged.
He pressed a finger to the plumpest part of her lower lip, and her mouth fell open involuntarily. His eyes, staring into hers so intensely, darkened. Her insides thrilled.
He cupped her cheek with one palm, tilted her chin and angled her mouth to receive his. She stretched up to meet him, her whole body longing for whatever short, stolen, quick before they came to their senses moment this would be—
But he didn’t kiss her. Or not her mouth, anyway. Instead he brushed his lips across her temple, then bent in and gently rested his forehead against hers.
“I want to, but I can’t,” he finally said. “Or I won’t. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but until I know exactly what you’re offering—until you know what you want, I’m not in. I just . . . can’t. I think you’ll hurt me.”