“Maybe we could have a family Thanksgiving together like the old days.”
I sigh. “You’re going to be insufferable about him, aren’t you?”
“Probably.” He kisses the top of my head and then releases me from his embrace. “I feel terrible for causing you trouble. You deserve every happiness in the world. I hope you find it with Odin.”
“Thank you. When’s your wedding?” I watch as he slides our divorce papers into a folder and tucks it inside his messenger bag on the front seat.
He grins at me over the roof of the car. “We’re eloping to Tahiti in December.”
“Of course you are. Send me pictures.”
I wave as he drives away.
My past and present have been on a collision course for a while, but I didn’t anticipate such a spectacular crash. I’m emotionally drained by the last hour.
I really need to find Odin and tell him the whole truth.
If he’s speaking to me.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Daphne
Driving up the long unpaved road, I spot Odin sitting in his chair on the porch. Patsy and Roman stand near the steps, two sentries guarding their master. The afternoon is bright but chilly, and I’m surprised to find him outside.
I park the NPS vehicle next to his truck. Near the tailgate, I pause, unsure if he even wants to see me.
He stands and leans against one of the posts. “Hi. Wasn’t expecting you.”
“Can we talk?”
“Where’s your husband?” His stares down at me, his tone not exactly friendly.
I close my eyes, willing the tears to subside. “He left. I signed the divorce papers, and I’m not married anymore. I can explain if you let me.”
He bobs his head once. “Want something to drink?”
“Water?” I’m not sure why it comes out as a question.
“Be right back.” He leaves me standing in the yard while he goes inside.
A few hours ago, we were lying in bed, basking in the feeling of saying I love you for the first time. I wish we’d never left. I wish I’d never checked my texts.
I climb the steps to the porch and take a seat in the chair next to Odin’s. Patsy sniffs my hand and Roman climbs into my lap. At least they still like me.
Odin returns with two glasses of water.
As soon as he sits, I begin talking. “Remember when I said I grew up pretty conservatively?”
“I do. You’ve always been vague about your past. You never talk about your family, and I assumed you’re estranged. Didn’t pry because if anyone can understand, it would be me.”
Of course he’s sympathetic. The man has the biggest heart even if he won’t admit it.
“I may have downplayed my upbringing. My family is part of an ultra-conservative religious sect in Idaho.”
His brows draw together. “Like one of those cults the FBI investigates and someone makes a documentary about?”
“Yes, probably.”
“Whoa.” He doesn’t hide his shock.
“I know.” Briefly, I meet his eyes before returning my stare to my hands in my lap. “I told you I left home at eighteen for college. That’s true and also not the whole truth.”
“You lied?”
“Not exactly.” I cringe, hating how easily I slipped into the gray area between truth and lies with him.
“Did you run away?”
“I was legally an adult, so technically, no, but Isaac and I left home together. My family doesn’t believe in education for girls. We were homeschooled, mostly in domestic arts, and then when we turned eighteen, we were expected to get married and start a family of our own.”
“That’s when you married Isaac?”
“Kind of.”
He squints at me. “I’m going to need you to clarify more.”
“He wasn’t supposed to be my betrothed even though we’d grown up together and were friendly. Boys had to prove themselves in the community before taking a wife. Most girls my age married older men who were already established and could afford to provide for a wife and children.”
Odin grimaces. “Like an arranged marriage?”
“I guess. My parents had to approve any suitor.”
“They were okay with an older man dating their teenage daughter?” His anger simmers in his eyes.
“No dating,” I clarify. “More of a formal courtship, with chaperones.”
His mouth drops open. “Are you from the past? Like a time traveler?”
His disbelief makes me laugh.
“No, this is still happening today.”
“Next you’ll tell me about sister-wives,” he jokes, uneasy.
I stare at him blankly.
“You’re kidding.”
My smile betrays my serious expression. “No sister-wives for us.”
“That’s a relief. Please continue.” He flicks his hand to encourage me.
“The man who came forward to court me was nice enough, but the only thing we had in common was talking about the weather and our church.”
“How did you manage to convince them to let you marry Isaac?”
“I didn’t. They would never have listened to my opinion because I’m a woman. Isaac came up with a plan to help us protect each other.”
“Why would he need protection?”
I ignore his question for now. “If we married each other, it would legally be bigamy for me to marry my betrothed.”
“Smart.”
“We went to the courthouse in town, got a license, and found a justice of the peace who would perform a civil ceremony. Our hope was our families would honor the marriage, even if it wasn’t done in the church.”
“And did they?”
I shake my head. “My father and the elders declared it invalid in the eyes of God and they wanted us to have it annulled. Even when I said I didn’t love the other man and that I loved Isaac, they wouldn’t respect our vows. My mother warned if I took him as my husband, she’d turn her back on me and I’d be shunned.”
“Harsh.”
I shrug, refusing to let that wound reopen. “They played right into our plan. It all went exactly as we imagined.”
Confused, he blinks at me. “Your goals was to be an outcast?”
“I wanted freedom. If they had approved of the union, leaving would’ve been even more difficult.”
Comprehension sparks in his gaze. “But if they threw you out, you’d be free.”
“Exactly.”
“Why stay married? Why not get divorced, or get it annulled as soon as you were out on your own?”
“Isaac and I were all each other had in the world. It felt safe to have that slip of paper from the government. If we separated, I worried my father would find out and force me to return home—not that any man would want to marry a divorced woman who wasn’t a virgin.”
“So you and he … ” He doesn’t have to finish his question for me to know what he’s asking.
“Never.”
“But you were married.”
“Isaac’s gay.”
He stares across the field at the mountains. “That’s why he wanted to escape, too.”
“Exactly.”
“And people call us Appalachian hillbillies backward. Your families makes mine almost seem normal.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you’re still legally married to him.”
“Honestly, it never felt like a real marriage. We stood in front of a random guy and said some words, he signed a piece of paper and the state of Idaho declared us husband and wife. I love Isaac with my whole heart … like a brother. He’s been my best friend, and for a long time, he was my only friend. By being married, we got an on campus apartment in college, and I could be on his health plan when I only worked part-time for the NPS. There were a lot of benefits.”
“When was the last time you lived in the same place? No one was suspicious?”
“No one ever asked. As a park ranger, I
have to go where the jobs are.”
“I can’t believe you’re married and didn’t tell me.”
“Fake married.”
“Legally married, ” he corrects me.
“Not anymore.”
“Why get divorced now?”
“Isaac is in love and wants to propose to his boyfriend. They’re eloping to Tahiti. That’s why he came here—I needed to sign our divorce papers.”
“Where is he now?” Odin’s shoulders finally relax.
“I told him to find a hotel, back in Atlanta.”
“You made him drive four hours for a hotel?” he asks in disbelief.
“If he stayed anywhere near here, I’d be tempted to go yell at him so more.”
He pauses for a moment. “I understand why you got married. If you signed the papers, then as of today, you’re divorced. That’s all I need to know.” He reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers before kissing my knuckles.
“I’m not mad at him for showing up. I’m happy to officially end the marriage.”
“Then what has you so upset?” His concerned eyes search mine.
“His hillbilly comments were out of line. I don’t know what came over him. He was shunned by his family and ostracized for being gay—he should know better. I’m embarrassed he’d even joke about that.”
Odin squeezes my hand. “Don’t be upset on my behalf. I’ve spent my whole life as the butt of a joke. Even when I worked in the top kitchens in New York, I had to deal with ignorance and stereotypes.”
“Yeah, he changed his tune when he figured out who you are.”
“Who am I?” He cocks his head to the side.
Oops. I’ve just outed myself for snooping.
“Former fancy pants chef? That’s what Isaac said, something about having a star. He has a major foodie crush on you.” I give an exaggerated shrug to defend my innocence.
“He shared all this with you this afternoon?” Doubt is written all over his face.
“Okay, fine … I looked you up online when we first met.” I’m disappointed in how easily I fold.
Odin lifts his brow in surprise. “You did? Why?”
“Curiosity. Suspicion. Boredom.”
“Interesting. And what did you find out about me?” He’s not angry; if anything, he’s amused.
“I freaked out when I saw how many results there were for your name. I only read one headline.” I cringe and use my water as a distraction, taking long gulps until the glass is empty.
“Let me guess—it had something to do with me and Tony. Was it the one about me sleeping with his widow or my arrest on drug charges?”
“You slept with his widow?” I fail to hide my shock.
“No, we had dinner together after the funeral. The paps framed the shot so it appeared to be only the two us. And the drug charges? They were dropped, but it made for an excellent click-bait headline, which is why it continues to circulate on various websites. Don’t believe what you read online.”
“I didn’t.”
“Your investigation into my illegal park activities wasn’t inspired by reading that headline, was it?” He leans forward until his elbows rest on his knees.
I scrunch up my eyes and pinch my index finger and thumb together with a tiny gap. “Maybe a little bit. Can you forgive me?”
“Already done.” He gazes at me with love in his eyes.
I exhale with relief. “How are you so understanding?”
“Because I know your true character and I love you. Love means accepting imperfections in ourselves and others. We’re all worthy of love.”
“I love you.” I mean it with my whole heart.
“And I love you.” He rises and lifts me from my chair. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I circle my arms over his shoulders. Our gazes interlock. His is full of love, and a little lust. “Any other confessions or can we return to our earlier plans of spending the day in bed together?”
“Prepare yourself—I think Isaac’s going to invite himself to Thanksgiving. I told him maybe next year.”
“Can’t wait.” He kisses the corner of my jaw. “If he asks what we’re having, tell him possum.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Odin
Daphne’s revelations about her upbringing and marriage to Isaac surprised me but didn’t change how I feel about her.
We all carry a lifetime of secrets within ourselves.
Today I’m going to reveal another one of mine.
When I turn onto the logging road, she frowns. “I’ve already been to the orchard.”
“Our destination is different today.”
Unlike the sunny October day I first brought her out here, the mid-November afternoon is freezing and damp. Fog clings to the trees in droplets. The contrast between the types of weather makes the span of time between the two dates feel longer than it appears on the calendar.
Roman bounces around in his crate, excited, and Patsy snorts and sniffs the air. She knows where we’re going and why.
“Yes, I’m a farmer. Yes, I forage for wild edibles. However, this is where I make my money.”
“In an old filbert grove? How many hazelnuts can you get off of these old trees? The going price must be exceptionally high if you’re making money.”
“It’s not what’s above the surface that matters as much as what’s below it.” I point to the ground. “Do you know what’s beneath your feet?”
“Grass, soil, roots, rocks, insects, for starters, magma if you want to get really deep.” She stares at the tip of my mud-covered boot.
“I really do love you even when you’re being snarky.” I kiss her temple close to the ribbed edge of her knit hat.
“I think you love me even more because of my snark.”
That’s true and I won’t bothering denying it.
“Between your foot and the magma, what else do we have?”
“Dead things?”
“Also probably true.”
“Where are you going with this? Is there a body buried here?” She lifts one foot and then the other, peering at the dirt.
“Could be. Unmarked graves exist all over these mountains. Sometimes the headstones get removed or stolen, but the grave remains.”
“I knew that. People love visiting the cemeteries in the park and reading the epitaphs. I find them depressing. Too many children died as babies or at an early age.”
“Life in the Smokies was hard. Still is today.”
“Especially when your boyfriend drags you outside in the cold to play a guessing game of ‘What’s beneath my feet?’ Buried treasure? Archeological artifacts? Who can say?” She gives an exaggerated shrug.
I make a buzzer noise. “Wrong answer.”
“What’s the right answer?” She blows on her gloved hands.
“Mycelium.”
“Mushrooms? We’re out here because of fungus?”
“More like the fungi motherboard. Mycelium is …”
“I’m aware it is the vegetative part of the colony and that there are two thousand different species of fungus in the Smokies.”
“I’m so proud of you, but I bet you didn’t know about these.” I release Patsy and Roman from their leashes. Always well behaved, Patsy takes her time strolling into the grove. Roman, however, is the opposite, running in looping circles.
“What’s he doing?” she asks, eyes trained on the dog.
“Watch.”
Patsy keeps her snout near the ground, slowly ambling from trunk to trunk. Roman begins digging, his tail wagging.
“Did he find a bone?” She takes a step forward, but I stop her.
“I hope not. Wait.”
Patsy’s snorting grows louder.
“Is she okay?”
I appreciate the genuine concern in her voice.
“She’s happier than a pig in shit right now.”
Roman’s head is almost hidden in the hole he’s dug when he pops up and trots over to me.
“Drop it,” I command
, and he obeys.
Out of his mouth falls a beautiful, bulbous black truffle. After rewarding him with a handful of treats, I pick it up and show it to her.
Daphne recoils. “Ew. Is that dung?”
“Why would you think that?” I’m confused.
“David Attenborough narrated a nature documentary about dung beetles, and they roll wildebeest scat that looks identical to what your holding in your hand right now.”
“You’re serious.” I laugh as I brush loose dirt away from the culinary treasure.
“I am. You should watch it sometime. It’s a triumph of will in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenge.” She side-eyes my movements.
I carefully toss the brown lump in my palm, weighing it. “I’m not sure the market price for wildebeest shit, but this beauty is worth six hundred dollars, probably more.”
Her mouth drops open. “No way.”
Patsy digs with a front leg, burying her snout in the soft earth. “Hold on a second. Unlike Roman, she won’t be as gentle with her find.”
I have to physically shove her out of the way and she’s not happy about it. From my other pocket I pull out a baggie with a flattened piece of banana cake. Once I slide the plastic zipper open, her attention shifts from the dirt to the my hand.
“Good girl.”
Behind us, Daphne laughs. “You distract her with cake? I used the same trick on Kacey at the farmers’ market. I’m so going to tell her about this.”
With Patsy distracted, I crouch down and finish extracting the truffle with my hands. This Périgord is even larger than the first. These are lucky finds early in the season.
I focus on Daphne again. “You can’t tell your friend.”
“Why not? She’d think it was hysterical.”
“Because if word got out, I wouldn’t be the only one out here with a Lagotto or a pig. After discovering a few truffles growing here naturally, I’ve been cultivating spores to expand the harvest. All of my investment could be dug up by someone else. Where there is a lot of money to be made, there will always be someone trying to profit off the hard work of others.”
She blinks at me as she processes my warning. “This is a real thing? Truffle pirates?”
Stranger Ranger: An Opposites Attract Romance (Park Ranger Book 2) Page 23