She would go to the library and check out every book on depression. She would research her way to becoming the mother of a depressive. She would open her mind to darkness. She would welcome every negative emotion her son hurled at her.
Will had carved out time for Galen every night; she would do the same. If she had any hope of earning her son’s trust, she would have to prove that things could change, that she could change. She would move her work life out of her personal life, separate the two worlds that collided constantly. As Will had pointed out rather nastily—but he had been naked and humiliated—she needed to establish boundaries.
Setting up an on-site office with a separate phone line would be the first step. Treating pets and owners in their homes would still be a priority, but some appointments could be dealt with as office visits. That wouldn’t be so hard. Perhaps she would establish regular office hours; perhaps Poppy could help. Whatever happened with Jacob, Poppy remained at a crossroads. She was about to get kicked out of her apartment, and her business had stalled into a time-consuming hobby. Art therapy had seemed a good solution, but there’d also been talk, a while back, of a course in horse massage. What if Hannah agreed to fund it in return for part-time hours?
The cottage could easily be turned into an office. Hannah could claim the front room and the rest could be Poppy’s. With Poppy living there, it would be easier to deal with after-hour emergencies.
Rosie stopped, and Hannah stumbled over her flank.
She peered at the ground where, two feet ahead, a copperhead lay coiled and camouflaged in a nest of dead leaves.
“Good girl.” She patted Rosie’s rump. “Let’s take a detour.”
Keeping an eye on the venomous snake, Hannah swung around in an arc, stepping off the path. Up ahead was an opening, framed in early-morning light.
Why not?
For months she’d avoided the private road that scarred Saponi Mountain. The rumblings of logging trucks throughout the spring had been distressing enough. For fifteen years, this mountain had been hers. Would neighbors post no-trespassing signs and refuse her access to the old trails?
Hannah pushed aside a cluster of spindly sweet gum saplings, jumped over a culvert and landed on tarmac. According to the large for-sale sign, there were still two open lots—each twenty acres. Apart from the one mansion that was finished and inhabited—an angular block of steel and concrete that screamed, I don’t belong—several of the houses on the ridge were already framed. In the winter, when the forest was bare, there would be no escaping the sight of these homes. Did the owners realize how isolated they would be? A mere dusting of snow or thin coating of ice and the road would be impassable.
But the view. Her whole life she’d dreamed of a view like this—reserved, surely, for the birds. Her mother would have talked about destiny or reincarnation, but maybe it was a simple case of belonging. To be ripped away from this land? She couldn’t begin to imagine....
The sun was struggling to rise above the forest, and a red-tailed hawk drifted across the blue sky. When Galen was little, he was fascinated by birds of prey. She would bring him here when he came home—if he came home. Suppose he decided to stay with Inigo? Suppose he decided to move back to California?
For years she had fretted over his separation anxiety. Three feet tall and his favorite phrase was, Don’t leave me, Mommy. Now she was the one who wanted to cry, Don’t leave me.
Hannah stared down the mountain to where her house stayed concealed. Her empty home. Since her boys had learned to walk, she’d wished them independence and happiness. Especially Galen, who was always so withdrawn, so sensitive, so easily hurt. He seemed to believe he was incapable of receiving love. Undeserving. Something else he’d inherited from her.
Rosie butted her. “I know, baby. Dawdling’s good for the soul, but this is avoidance, isn’t it? I guess it’s time to face Will.”
They started walking down the road—the shortest, quickest way back. Will had been up at 4:00 a.m. loading something into the trunk of his car. Packing, no doubt, although she had chosen not to watch. Part of her hoped he had left already. But no, a bigger part of her hoped he would wait and say goodbye. Goodbyes were more important than hellos. And this one, she would get right.
From the moment Will had arrived, she’d known he would leave. Falling in love hadn’t been part of the plan, but maybe it had been part of her journey. Her mother would have approved, would have told her that people crossed one another’s paths for a reason. Hannah’s mind meandered back to the decision she’d made in the middle of the night. Nighttime decisions rarely held up in daylight, but this one still fit. Will was a free spirit and she couldn’t keep him here. Nor should she have tried. She had chosen a gift for him, a gift that would, hopefully, allow him to leave Orange County with better memories than when he’d arrived.
* * *
Will leaned back against one of the cedar posts supporting the deck, crossed his ankles and resumed his vigil. The Prius was packed and all that remained was to wait. The air smelled cold and fresh; the leaves were the colors of spices.
From here, he could see Hannah before she saw him. He could watch her stride down the mountain with the dogs, her cheeks flushed, her hair loose. Why she bound those corkscrew curls in tight ponytails, he couldn’t fathom. If he could just watch her for two minutes, he could say goodbye silently from a distance.
Aiming away from a clump of wintergreen with scarlet berries, Will dumped the cold contents of his coffee mug on the ground. As soon as his dad was awake, he’d make a fresh pot. Microwaving coffee was a new habit that needed ditching. Starting today, he was going to rediscover the things that used to matter. First off—no more zapped coffee.
Wind rippled through the trees like babbling water, and a chain saw revved, but there were no sounds of dogs crashing through the undergrowth, and no flashes of a Tar Heel blue sweatshirt, size unknown. Was Hannah a small or a medium? Really, he knew so little about her. Would know even less once he left. She wasn’t fat, though, and she wasn’t skinny. She was just right. Practically perfect, like Mary Poppins. He blew out a sigh. One of his jobs this week would include boxing up the Disney DVDs. Maybe he could donate them to a local children’s hospital.
He heard the dogs before he saw them, but coming from the direction of the road, not the forest. That was weird. The dogs came into view—all of them, even Rosie. But no Hannah. He threw the coffee cup to the ground and ran.
Daisy barked and met him halfway, and Rosie turned her head. If Hannah was surprised to see him running toward her in some lame Heathcliff-Cathy moment, she didn’t show it. But like him, she was good at pretense. Or maybe this wasn’t an act; maybe, despite everything she’d said the night before, she didn’t care. That bothered him, too.
“Something wrong?” she said, not varying her pace.
Rosie slowed to flank her mistress. Was her doggie sense warning her to protect?
Will stopped. “I saw the dogs without you. I thought, you know, something bad had happened.”
“I’m fine.” She pushed her hair behind her ears, and he tried to believe she’d worn it loose in some secret signal of love. Or lust. Anything other than indifference.
“Right,” Will said. “Can we talk?”
“Before you leave?” Hannah glanced at the Prius.
“Yeah, something like that.”
A battalion of birds—robins, pigeons and blue jays—rustled through the fallen leaves.
“Have you had breakfast?” she said.
“I’m not very hungry this morning.”
“Unfortunately, I am. Would you mind if I ate while you talked?” She started walking toward the house, and he followed. Always, he followed.
“I spoke with Galen last night,” Will said.
“You did?”
“I wanted to repeat an invitation to come t
o New York. You’re invited, too.”
“Thanks.”
“Is that a Yes, I’d love to, or are you just being polite?” Will said.
“Are you that insecure?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Finally, Will Shepard. An honest answer.” Hannah petted Rosie. “I’ve found my peace with what happened between us. No regrets.” She glanced up, her eyes clear and bright. “How about you?”
“I haven’t regretted it for one minute. And that’s the most honest answer I’ve ever given a woman.” He drew alongside Rosie—The filling in the sandwich, Freddie would say. “Our timing was appalling, but it was inevitable.”
Hannah smiled. “We’re not very good at this, are we?”
“No. But the sex—” he couldn’t contain the grin “—was incredible.”
“It’s a bit blurry for me. I remember seeing shooting stars, though.”
A whole galaxy of them. “Maybe next time we meet we could, you know, try it without the drugs?” He fiddled with his fingers. “I don’t want this to be...”
“An end?” she said quietly.
He sighed. “Yeah.”
“Me, neither. By the way, I have a gift for you.”
“Really?” When was the last time someone who wasn’t on his payroll gave him a gift? Obsessed female fans who sent sex toys didn’t count.
Hannah opened the front door—unlocked, of course—and he closed it behind them. If only she would take more care with her personal safety. She lived in the middle of nowhere and didn’t even have an alarm. When he was a kid, no one locked anything, but he’d started checking the local news. The rash of recent break-ins told him she needed a better warning system than a motley collection of mutts who rarely barked. He could offer to fund an alarm—use his dad as the excuse.
“Here.” She picked up a framed photo from the storage bench in the hall, handed him the panorama of Occoneechee Mountain.
“I can’t take this, Hannah.”
“I insist. It has your name on it.”
He flipped it over. “‘For Will,’” he read aloud. “‘Nothing but good memories.’”
He held the photograph flat against his chest. “I’ll hang it above my desk.” Next to Freddie’s picture.
She leaned in to kiss his cheek and, for a moment, he wanted more. But Daisy passed gas and the air stank of deer scat. Could they not have one romantic moment without real life intruding?
“How serious were you,” he said, “about a trial run with my dad?”
“Very.”
“In that case, I have a proposal. A compromise, I guess. My dad’s still on the wait list for this place at the bottom of Occoneechee Mountain. I really liked it when I visited. They have a housedog, this big, old black Lab that wanders around, slobbering on everything. Farts, too.” He grinned, and so did she. “All the rooms have a view of the mountain. It’s not as fancy as Azalea Court, but I think Dad could be happy there. Could take a while, though, till they have a vacancy. You guys want to dad-sit in the interim?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if we didn’t, Will.”
“Okay, but here’s the deal—you have to agree to a test run, and so does Dad. Azalea Court’s willing to hold the apartment for a week. That gives you and Poppy time to figure out if it’s working or not. We’d have to talk every night, and if you guys are struggling by the end of next week, I’ll come back and move him into Azalea Court. And the four of us need to meet. I want us all in agreement.”
“What changed your mind?”
“My dad—talking about roots. His roots are on that mountain, and I realized it’s all he has left.”
She leaned back against the white wall and gave him a hard look. “Except for you and Freddie.”
“I should go finish packing.” Such a lie.
“When are you leaving?”
“After the four of us have talked. I’m assuming you want to go to the hospital first.”
She pushed off the wall. “Yes, but I’m not planning to stay long. I don’t want to tire Galen. I just want to give him a hug.”
A hug. He would give the world for one last hug with Freddie. “I have to go check on Dad.”
“You’re both welcome to join me, for breakfast.”
“Thanks, but no.” He walked to the front door. “I think I’ll take him out for blueberry pancakes. There’s this fancy diner on Main Street....”
“A last breakfast?”
“Kind of.” Will paused. “And thank you, Hannah.”
“For what?”
For being you. “For everything.”
“Will?” Hannah said, but he didn’t turn. “You’re doing the right thing—for your dad.”
The doorknob was cold and slippery. Tightening his grip, he eased the door open and stared at the giant post oak by the side of the cottage, its shriveled leaves turning brown in defeat.
No, I’m doing the right thing for me.
Thirty-Three
As Will stroked the surface of the dining room table, Hannah tried to forget how gentle his touch could be. But the memory breathed over her shoulder, refusing to leave.
Under the table, her leg jiggled. Her thoughts raced, jumping from Will to Galen and back again. In the kitchen the ice maker clunked, spitting out a pitiful round of ice cubes for one.
By the time darkness fell, Will would be gone, and Galen would be spending his second night in the mental hospital. Was Galen finally awake? He’d slept most of the hour she’d sat with him. Only once did he open his eyes and say, “I’m sorry, Mom,” and she replied, “I’m sorry, too, baby.” Two short sentences in one hour, but it felt like a beginning. This strained meeting around her dining room table, however, felt like an ending.
She massaged her leg, warming her muscles.
She would have faith; she would choose to have faith. This new scheme of Will’s would bring him back to Saponi Mountain when he was ready. Now wasn’t their time.
“Beautiful table,” he said.
“It belonged to my parents.” Hannah smiled. “My mother’s pride and joy.”
“Tiger maple. Wasn’t Uncle Darren’s Les Paul tiger maple?” Will asked Jacob.
“I reckon so, son. That were a real nice guitar.” Jacob turned to Poppy. “My brother, Darren, he were a fine guitar player. We had us a band. Long time ago.”
“And you were one fine banjo picker.” Poppy popped three Mentos into her mouth and offered the packet around. No one accepted.
“I told you that?” Jacob clasped the cardboard tube to his chest.
His memory was bad today. Not a good sign.
Will laid his palms flat on the table. “Dad, do you want to stay here?”
“You know I do, son.”
“And you know I have to get back to New York?”
“So you keep tellin’ us.”
“And Hannah’s son is in the hospital. So she has a lot going on right now.” Will stared at her with bloodshot eyes.
“Willie.” Jacob sighed. “C.R.S. Can’t remember stuff, but I know where you’re headin’ with this. I won’t go happily, but I’ll go, for the womenfolk. Already told you that. No need to turn this into a council meetin’.”
Will tugged on the neck of his long-sleeved T-shirt. “Hannah and Poppy have agreed that you can stay here, with them.”
“Know that, too, son. You the only one who wants me in a home for old folks.”
“Dad, I’m—”
“We have a little problem, Jacob. And I think you can help.” Hannah reached out and touched Jacob’s hand. The skin sagged over his knuckle, but it was smooth and warm, not dry and leathery. “Will’s not sure you’d be happy at Azalea Court. He wants to hold out for somewhere with views of Occoneechee Mountain. It could take
a while, though.”
Jacob’s head bobbed in agreement.
“In the meantime, Poppy needs to find somewhere to live and Will needs to return to New York.” Hannah sat back and gave Will a reassuring smile, but he was staring at the ceiling, oblivious. “Would you be willing to share the cottage with Poppy? If so, she’d be willing to cook for you. She loves to cook.”
Of course, this destroyed her new plans for the business, but she would rethink that tonight, when she was alone. It would keep her mind from the loss of Will.
“And I’m a meat lover.” Poppy smirked. “Lots of juicy steaks with peppery sauces. None of this vegetarian crap your son serves.”
Jacob gave Poppy a huge smile. “I need a bit of lookin’ after.”
“So do I, sugar.”
“Here’s the deal, Dad,” Will said. “You get to try this for a week. So everyone can see how it works. And I’m going to pay Poppy to be your—”
“Companion,” Hannah said.
Will scowled.
“You all right with this, son?”
“It seems to be what everyone wants. But it’s only temporary, Dad, until a room opens up in the right retirement place.”
Poppy gave Jacob a high five, and Will looked outgunned.
“This isn’t permanent, guys. You are listening to me, right?”
“And won’t this be a great place for Freddie to visit?”
“Yeah, sure, Dad.”
“Now, Poppy, we might have to mess with the sleepin’ arrangements when my grandson comes to stay. You bringin’ him for Christmas, Willie?”
Will shot up. This time, there was no doubt: he was stuck in a pattern of avoidance. Or possibly denial. And she should know, being painfully familiar with both. When she’d kissed his cheek earlier—and he’d held on to that picture tight enough to crack the glass—a thought had niggled, had hinted that the bottled-up angst had something to do with his son.
Poppy and Jacob were huddled like kindergarteners plotting a messy craft project.
“When can you move in, Poppy?” Will said.
“This afternoon soon enough?”
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