by T. L. Haddix
Lily crossed her arms, a chill crawling over her skin. “Plans.” She couldn’t ask, and God help her if he said he had a date. She’d fall apart, no question.
“Yeah. So I’ll see you around.” He let out a breath.
For a second, she thought he was going to say something else, but he edged around her and headed back toward the barns. Knees weak, she stood in the secluded woods, listening to the birds noisily chirping all around, unconcerned with her presence. She didn’t know what to do with herself, truly.
His words came back to her. He’d tried to get her out of his head. Not his heart though. And that difference was telling in a quite devastating way. What had happened between them, it hadn’t touched his heart. That was exactly what Lily had dreaded finding out, that she’d not meant enough to him to break through the wall he kept up. The wall he had built to separate himself from the world, from ever being hurt again.
Maybe having left the way she did, she’d dinged his feelings. Maybe she’d flattened his ego a bit. If she wanted to be generous, she could see that she’d probably hurt him because they were friends. But that was all. And that was why she’d left the way she had.
She’d awoken the morning after, utterly devastated by the knowledge of what they’d done, the line they’d crossed. She didn’t know how they’d go back from it. For so long, her love for Warren had been a private weight she’d carried, a secret hidden deep in her heart.
But that morning, she knew her days of pretending were over. She was condemned to a life spent watching him from afar, knowing that was all it could be. She hadn’t known until it was gone that she’d held a hope that maybe things could be different between them. So she’d done the only thing she could think of to protect her heart. She ran.
Now, she was going to see just how heavy a price they’d pay for that single night. She expected it to be steep. Time would tell, and with any luck, he’d never know how she really felt. It wouldn’t do any good for the truth to come out. But she knew her luck, and she knew how Karma worked, and she knew things between them would get a lot worse before it got better, assuming it ever did.
Chapter Nine
Calling herself a complete coward, Lily headed for her sanctuary late Friday afternoon. She didn’t have far to travel, just to the middle of the farm and the custom-built caboose that had been her refuge for years.
She’d always loved art and drawing and the process of creating, a hobby she’d picked up as little girl, when she tagged along after her father while he worked as a landscape architect. Ben, who preferred the hands-on approach to designing instead of a more computer-based aesthetic, had indulged her then with her own set of draftsman tools.
“Maybe you’ll follow in my footsteps someday,” he’d say as she sketched at the small desk he’d set up for her beside his.
Lily simply smiled. She knew better, even when she was young. She didn’t want to show her art to other people, only her parents, her grandparents, and maybe a friend or cousin or two. She just enjoyed taking a pad of paper and some pens or pencils and turning them into a tangible interpretation of the world as she saw it.
Then, when she was twelve, she’d been home sick following a tonsillectomy. While she recovered, bundled up in blankets on the couch, she turned the TV to the local PBS station. There, she’d found a soft-spoken man who wielded pure magic in a paintbrush. Within ten minutes, she was hooked.
Bob Ross and The Joy of Painting changed her life.
As soon as she was able, she begged Ainsley to take her to town so they could get paint and paint thinner, brushes and canvas. Painting became Lily’s new obsession. Everything about the process felt right, from the way the brushes fit her hand to the smell of the linseed oil in the paints. For Lily, her art became a solitary activity, and it satisfied a need for quiet that Ben swore she’d gotten from her mother and from his father, Owen Campbell.
So it wasn’t surprising that now, when she needed space to deal with what she’d done, what she and Warren had done, she took the first chance she got to flee to the small cottage studio that had been her seventeenth birthday present from her parents, built by her cousin Noah.
“Hello, Murky Pond,” she said as she parked her truck beside the caboose-inspired cottage. The deep red building was set across from a small, man-made livestock pond. It was close to the center of the two-hundred plus acres her parents owned, halfway between their house and Warren’s. “I’ve missed you, old friend.”
Oh, how dearly she had missed this haven. Sure, she’d enjoyed traveling with Agatha, seeing the world, exploring new places and cultures and meeting people from all over, but this place was home.
Pea gravel crunched under her feet as she got out of the truck, and she glanced around, curious to see what changes the last few months had wrought. She’d not been to Murky Pond since Christmas.
It was late in the afternoon, and a series of storms had moved through, leaving the land drenched in rain and clouds. The landscaping was well in hand, no doubt courtesy of her father. The late-spring flowers had mostly bloomed themselves out as early summer blossoms came on. It was ragged and wild by design, utterly perfect and charming. She forced herself to ignore the profusion of daisies surrounding the cottage, as noticing them would mean thinking about where the flowers had come from. The mental territory surrounding Warren and their relationship was strictly off-limits today.
As she made her way to the wrought-iron-railed front porch, she shivered a bit against the wind. Though it was mid-May, the air had a snap to it courtesy of the cold front that had brought in the storms. She hunched her shoulders and hurried to unlock the door, eager to get inside and out of the wind.
While the air inside was a bit stale, she could tell someone had been in recently.
“Mom,” she said, smiling as she spied the cheerful basket of goodies on the kitchen counter beside the small refrigerator. She walked over and opened the note Ainsley had left.
Darling girl,
It’s so good to have you home. I’m sure you’ve been antsy for days at this point, eager to get out here to your refuge, but you’ve been indulging your father and me. In appreciation of that indulgence, please find this care package. There are also perishables in the fridge, as well as some drinks. I hope you enjoy it and your time at Murky Pond.
Hugs and love,
Mom.
Lily held the notecard close, making a mental note to do something nice for her mother in return as soon as she got back to the main house. As she glanced through the basket’s contents, she smiled. Three varieties of chocolate, two kinds of crackers that Lily could devour without blinking, and a large bag of chips accompanied a container of mixed nuts and seeds. The fridge held her favorite cheese spreads and the grapefruit-flavored soda she loved. An assortment of healthier dishes would be in the freezer, she knew, just waiting for her to pop them in the tiny kitchen’s apartment stove. Between that and the fresh produce Ainsley had sent Lily out with, she’d be covered for days.
“You know me so well.”
A quick trip through the rest of the cottage, which was basically two large rooms set back-to-back with screens up for dividers, told her that someone had been out to clean.
“Probably the same mouse who brought the basket of goodies,” she said, shaking her head as she checked to make sure the water heater was turned on.
She planned to stay at least one night, and probably two or three if time allowed. She’d not been able to paint for a while, and with the weight of her fight with Warren hanging over her, it would take a lot of time with the canvases and oils to regain her equilibrium. Shoving all those troubles behind her, she immersed herself in painting.
By nine o’clock on Saturday evening, she’d reached the point of being a pure slouch. After months of having to be presentable at all hours, she was reveling in her new freedom. One of the advantages to being in the middle of nowhere w
ith no plans to leave anytime soon was not having to get dressed, put on makeup, wear contacts, or even take a shower if she didn’t feel like it. When her phone dinged, she mustered up the energy to grab it off the nightstand beside the mattress on which she sprawled.
Have you painted yourself silly yet?
She smiled. “Molly.” I’m an absolute puddle of silliness. What are you into?
Her cousin and best friend in the world, Molly Campbell, texted back a second later. Nothing good. I’m finally going to be an aunt. Did you hear?
Lily closed her eyes, an instant prayer of thanks for her cousins’ long-sought happiness blending with a pang of what felt suspiciously like jealousy. No! Noah or Eli?
Molly’s older brothers were both somewhat newly married, and Lily knew they were eager to get started building families. Her phone rang a few seconds later.
“Both of them, can you believe it? Sophie’s four months along, and Haley’s just past three. How the hell are you?”
Lily laughed. “I’m fine and dandy. Enjoying being a lazy slug. I’ll bet Grandma and Grandpa are over the moon.”
Molly sighed. “Oh, they are. Noah and Sophie were trying for a while, and they were really starting to worry, so it’s a blessing for them. I guess Eli and Haley kind of got surprised,” she said, her tone droll. “I tried to tell them that we in the medical field have figured out how that happens, but for some reason, Eli didn’t appreciate my helpfulness. They’re tickled to death though.”
Knowing Molly and her propensity for teasing her brothers, the lecture on fertility had been delivered with any number of twists and turns that involved witch doctors and contortions. Lily grinned. “I’d have paid good money to see that. How are your parents taking the news? When are you coming up?”
“Mom and Dad are a mess. They’re already starting to hover. It’s hilarious. When do you want me to come up? Say the word, and I’ll be there.”
There was an odd note in Molly’s voice, a sadness that had Lily sitting up. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine and dandy. I’m just thinking about some things.”
Lily pursed her lips as she stretched her legs, studying her toenails. “Hmmm, okay. In that case, it occurs to me that I could use a good pampering session at the spa. How about you?”
“Book me. Literally as soon as you can, please. I’m ready for a vacation, and I have the next several days off.”
“Well, hell. Don’t wait for the spa. Get on up here.” Something was definitely wrong. Lily stood and paced to the door, which she’d propped open for airflow. “Come in tomorrow and we’ll paint the town.”
The sound of slurping came from the other end of the line, and Molly sighed. “If you’re sure.”
“Was that the end of a milkshake? And yeah, I’m sure.”
“It was. A damned good one too. Mocha banana. It’ll blow your socks off.”
Lily shuddered. “You’re sick. I’ll stick with strawberry, thank you very much. What time will you be here? I’ll meet you at the house.”
“Is midnight too early?” There was that wistful note again.
“Molly, what’s going on?”
There was a pause, then another long sigh. “Nothing worth going into on the phone.”
“Then get in your car, and get your ass up here. Don’t wait for tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your painting.”
Lily scowled fiercely. “Shut up. If you’re up to the drive, I’ll see you in a bit. Come on up?” It was only a two-hour drive from Hazard to the farm.
“Okay. See you soon.”
Long after they hung up, Lily stood at the door and let the cool night air wash over her. As soon as Molly got here, Lily would pamper her and prod. Something was definitely wrong.
Molly was a nurse practitioner who worked with an oncologist in her hometown of Hazard, Kentucky, the same small town where their parents had been raised and a good number of the Campbell clan still lived, including their grandparents. She was extremely competent and driven, having known from the time she was twelve or so what course she wanted to take in her life. She didn’t dither, and aside from teasing the stuffing out of her brothers, she was straight as an arrow.
“I’ll figure it out. I’ll make her talk to me.”
Lily straightened and looked around, mentally cataloging what she had to do to shut down the cottage. It would take her about an hour to get ready to leave for home. Figuring it might be a nice idea to let her parents know she’d be back under their roof earlier than expected and with a guest in tow, especially given how they still tended to get romantic on a regular basis, she texted Ainsley, then got to work.
As she slid a sketchpad back into place in the cabinet where it was housed, the uneven edge of a paper peeked out from the stack she’d put there earlier. She lifted the pad it was in and turned to the page, prepared to ease it back in place. When she saw the drawing, she pulled in a breath instead, and touched the paper with reverent fingers.
The image was a hastily sketched, half-finished study of Warren, done from memory. She’d taken a mental snapshot of him the morning she’d left him in his bed, sound asleep, then she’d committed it to paper when she had a few minutes alone.
Even though the details weren’t sharp, the memories the lines evoked were potent. The feel of his skin against hers, the texture of his work-roughened hands, gentle for all their toughness. The urgency and need that they’d each exhibited that night… Warren’s surprise when he’d discovered she was a virgin. Her own insistence that it didn’t matter, that she’d kill him if he stopped.
Her hunger for him had been so strong, she’d felt almost like a stranger had taken over her body. And it hadn’t been a short night either. She’d shown up at his house just past dusk, and she’d not left until almost dawn.
Gently closing the book, she swallowed, tightening her hands around the soft leather cover. She had a set of sketchbooks stashed away in a secret compartment under the bed, and she hurried to put the one she held with them. Those were her Warren books, her private art that no one would ever see.
She’d been drawing him since she was sixteen, fascinated by him even then, before she’d fallen in love with him. He was one of her favorite subjects, as a matter of fact. That said, she’d not yet tried to paint him. That felt too intimate, and she didn’t feel she had the right to do that, not even after their night together.
“Maybe when I’m eighty and in the nursing home, I’ll scandalize all my friends by painting him in the nude,” she told herself with a sad laugh. She was almost twenty-three now. She figured another six decades might be enough time to get a grasp on her feelings for the man.
She sat back on her haunches and blew out a shaky breath. “Right now, I’ve got the puzzle of Molly to try to figure out. Warren Sullivan, you can just rest wherever you are, enjoying your ‘plans.’ It’s time I get on with my life, I guess. That’s a good idea, right?”
Time would tell how well she managed to stick to that plan, but she knew herself too well. She ruefully thought she’d be better off not having high expectations where resisting her feelings for Warren was concerned.
Chapter Ten
Warren could count on one hand with fingers left over how many times in the last seven years he’d dreaded returning to Dragonfly Creek Farm after visiting with Caleb and Brooke. He hated leaving his family, yes, but he’d always been happy to see home again at the end of the day.
Today was one of the few times he would rather stay in Laurel County.
He’d driven down for Elijah’s sixteenth birthday party, glad to be able to focus on his extended family instead of what had happened with Lily. Even so, he knew he wasn’t fooling everyone. Caleb had kept a close eye on him since he’d pulled in late Friday evening, a day ahead of schedule.
“You ready to talk?” he asked Warren as the two of them w
alked back alone from Trent and Cora’s. Caleb’s property adjoined his parents’, and they’d all met over there for Sunday dinner.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Warren said, swiping at a tall blade of grass that was growing just off the path.
“Sure there isn’t. What’s her name?”
Warren stopped, staring at his brother with consternation. “What the hell makes you think there’s a her?”
Caleb grinned. “Years and years of experience and watching good men fall hard.” His amusement faded. “Seriously, are you okay?”
Since he didn’t know what he was, Warren couldn’t answer. He moved over to the half-dead, waist-high stump of a tree that had been struck by lightning a few years back and picked at the loose bark. “I’m not falling for her.”
“Okay.” Caleb sat on the fallen log that had made up the top of the tree. “If you’re not involved, what are you?”
Warren sent him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t say we weren’t involved.”
“God save me from stubborn mules who won’t talk, even when they need to,” Caleb told the ground. Then he looked at Warren with a stern frown. “I’m worried about you. Is this the same girl who gave you fits last year?”
This time, Warren scowled, turning his full attention to his brother. “Who the hell said anything about last year?”
“You did. Not in words so much, but we knew when you came down here for a few days and wouldn’t talk that you were working through something. Brooke’s the one who speculated it was a woman.”
Giving in, Warren sat beside him. “We had a… thing. Just one night, but it wasn’t meaningless. Not to me.”
Caleb studied him. “And now she’s back home for more than a visit, and you don’t know how to handle it?”