by Leslie Kelly
Knox ran his hands over his hair, the gesture weary. “Take whatever you want out of the house,” Knox said. “The agents are coming in and opening the place for an estate sale on Friday. The rest will be hauled to the dump.”
Trudie felt sick. “Estate sale? The dump?” No! He couldn’t mean it. “How can you even consider letting strangers traipse in and out, picking through the minutiae of Mormor’s life, the things she held dear, and then discard the rest?”
She had been seven, Knox eight, when he came to live with his grandmother next door to Trudie and her parents. Nineteen years ago Trudie’s heart had wept for the orphaned boy, his blue eyes somber with grief and wariness from his parents’ deaths in a car crash. It was as if her heart had linked with his to help him heal. They’d grown up together. They’d grown together.
She’d had girlfriends and dated an array of guys, but she couldn’t recall a time since that fateful day he’d arrived here that they hadn’t been best friends. Even when he’d left to do his undergrad work at University of Alaska in Fairbanks and then gone on to vet school at Washington State University while Trudie had remained in Anchorage, they’d stayed close. When he returned home and joined a small practice, he and Trudie had met once a week for dinner to catch up.
And then Mormor had died.
The last three months had been terrible. Mormor had gone quickly, which was exactly how she would’ve wanted it.
Even after he’d left for college, Knox had called his grandmother every week to check on her and when he’d returned to Anchorage, he’d been diligent in keeping tabs on her. In the last year, as her mobility decreased, the weekly calls had become daily ones. So, when Mormor hadn’t answered one morning, Knox had left his practice and gone to her house to check on her. He’d called Trudie on his way. It would turn out to be the last “real” conversation he and Trudie had.
When Knox arrived, Mormor was dead. He’d found her sitting in her recliner, a word search puzzle on her lap, her cat Tonto curled up beside her cold form. Trudie’s mom had gone next door when she’d seen Knox’s truck. She said Mormor looked peaceful, as if she’d simply drifted off to sleep.
As death went, everyone agreed Mormor’s had been good. The woman had valued her independence and never wanted to be a burden. She’d always said that a quick exit beat a slow decline. So, from that perspective she’d been granted her wish. But the loss was...well, it was dreadful.
While Knox agreed her death was exactly what Mormor would’ve wanted, he’d become remote and withdrawn. He was distant with Trudie. Her mom had reassured her, it was simply part of the grief process, but it was confusing for Trudie.
Although she had moved into her own apartment years ago, when she visited her folks, she always dropped by to visit Mormor, even if it was only for a minute. Mormor had been like a surrogate grandmother to her.
Trudie missed her, too, but she wasn’t dealing with it by pushing Knox away. He was the one who had bailed on their weekly dinner for the last month. It didn’t make any sense to her. Over the years she and Knox had talked about everything, but since Mormor’s death he wouldn’t talk to her about anything.
And now this? He was opening his grandmother’s house to strangers and selling it? Granted, she didn’t quite know what she’d expected him to do—he had his own place near his vet clinic, but she’d thought perhaps he’d hold onto the house or maybe move in. It seemed so cold and callous to just sell a house that held so many memories. She didn’t get it. At this point, she didn’t understand, but how could she when he wouldn’t talk to her. This was the longest conversation they’d had in weeks, and quite frankly she’d been surprised and excited when he’d suggested they meet for one of their late-night hikes, which had become a rarity rather than a regular event.
Knox shrugged his broad shoulders but didn’t look at her. The sun, quickly sinking toward the horizon, threw his beloved features into relief—the straight, strong nose, the firm jaw and square chin, the slight curl to his hair where it lay against his neck. “Elsa says it’s the best way to handle it. She says it’s all junk and she’s right.”
Trudie’s hand itched. She didn’t know who she wanted to slap more or harder—Knox or the beautiful Elsa Borjeson. Elsa and Knox had met a couple of months ago when she’d rear-ended him at a traffic light. Over the years, Knox and Trudie had dated people that the other one wasn’t so wild about. Come to think of it, they’d never particularly liked each other’s choices. However, there was something particularly offputting about Elsa.... Mormor hadn’t liked the cool blonde either.
“Since when did your grandmother’s life and her things become junk?” Trudie asked through gritted teeth.
He at least had the grace to look ashamed. Elsa’s influence hadn’t totally erased all traces of her friend...yet. “Well, Mormor’s stuff isn’t exactly junk.” He shifted on the rock and his shoulders stiffened. “But she’s gone and it’s time to move on.”
That didn’t even sound like Knox. He might as well be reading from a script penned by Elsa. Trudie wrapped her arms around her bent legs and rested her head on her knees, studying him as the light bathed him in a golden glow.
He glanced at her, inquiry in his denim-blue eyes at her silence. “What?”
An ineffable sadness filled her. “What’s happened to you?” she said softly. Her words seemed to float on the breeze that riffled her hair against her face. “I don’t know you anymore.”
It was a whisper, more of an aside to herself, yet he heard her.
A remoteness shadowed his eyes, rendering him inaccessible to her in a way he’d never been before. “I grew up, Trudie. Maybe it’s time that you did as well.”
The harshness of his words made her wince. Although his physical features were familiar, his heart was not the same. She loved him, but she couldn’t, at this moment, say she liked him. So, if this was his version of growing up and he wanted her to join him on this path...well, no thanks.
“Not if it means becoming what you’ve become.”
He looked away from her. “If that’s the way you feel.”
Trudie wished she could snap him out of whatever mind set he had slipped into. While she knew everyone in life was responsible for themselves, it was as if Elsa had Knox under a spell, as if she’d smudged all the good things, clouding the way he saw the world. It wasn’t particularly fair to lay the blame all on Elsa, but the more time Knox spent with the woman, the darker his outlook became, the more cynical, and the more distant he grew.
Trudie had never censored herself with Knox and she didn’t plan to start now. “Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel. I don’t want to get to the point where I consider my past junk.”
“That’s just as well,” Knox said. “Our relationship makes Elsa a little uncomfortable so maybe it’s best if we take a break from one another.”
Elsa uncomfortable... Take a break.... Surely Trudie had heard him wrong. “What?” Their respective dates had never gotten in the way of them—Trudie and Knox—before.
“Elsa doesn’t really understand our relationship. I’ve tried explaining that you and I are just friends, buddies, sort of the same as me and Danny, but she doesn’t get it. It makes her uneasy when I’m with you.”
“So, you’re telling me you don’t want to spend time with me because your girlfriend doesn’t like me?”
Push had come to shove a couple of times before. David Peters, her senior prom date, hadn’t liked Knox. She’d dumped David. Missy Fairington, one of Knox’s girlfriends, was bitchy about Trudie. Missy had become history pretty quickly. Trudie and Knox’s friendship had always superseded other relationships...until now.
“It’s not so much that she doesn’t like you—”
“Don’t insult me by lying to me.”
“She doesn’t get you. She doesn’t get our relationship. She doesn’t understand that you and I can just be friends and that’s all there is to it.”
If a woman was going to break up their friendship, it could�
��ve at least been someone who would love him, care for him, bring out the best in him—someone who would make him happy. That, Trudie could swallow. But, Elsa was doing none of that.
She drew a deep breath, and then laid it on the line. “Knox, I don’t think she’s good for you.”
“She said you were jealous of her.”
Trudie had already searched her soul. She wasn’t jealous of Elsa, although the other woman was beautiful and obviously Knox was smitten. Trudie didn’t like her because, plain and simple, Elsa wasn’t a nice person. She was cold, calculating and manipulative...and it was insane that Knox couldn’t see it. Love must have truly blinded him.
She didn’t know what had happened to her friend, but even worse, there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Mormor had always said everyone had to choose and walk their own path. Tears burned at the back of her throat. She swallowed hard.
“I’m not jealous of Elsa,” she said, her voice calm and flat.
He ignored her comment. “I’ll call you in a couple of weeks after the dust settles.”
He wouldn’t call because there was no dust to settle. There was only Elsa.
The sun, in one powerful final illumination before it retired for the evening, cast him in a golden glow, and in that moment, her entire world shifted. She loved him. She’d always loved him, but this was different. She loved him in the way a woman loves a man, a partner. She was in love with him. It was as if she had to lose him to discover the truth of what he was to her.
The realization shook her. Shattered her. Left her uncertain.
Trudie stood, her legs not quite steady beneath her. She placed her hands lightly on his broad shoulders, resisting the urge to curl her fingers into his solidness, his warmth. She leaned down and pressed a kiss against his temple, his scent enveloping her, her cheek brushing against his hair.
He was so dear to her.
Knox caught her fingers in his. “I’ll call,” he said, repeating his earlier...assertion...vow...platitude.... No, he wouldn’t. “You’re okay, right?” No, she wasn’t okay and she wasn’t sure that she ever would be without him. She wavered, almost blurting her discovery, but it would just be awkward. He was all hung up on Elsa so what was the point in baring her soul?
She tugged her hand free. “I’m fine.”
Trudie bent and scratched Jessup behind the ears. His gaze was nothing short of woeful as he looked up at her. The dog knew as surely as Trudie did that Knox wouldn’t call.
She turned and walked away, the sun setting behind her, as she headed into the shadows. Technically, she was fine. No one actually died of a broken heart...even if they felt as if they might.
1
One and a half years later...
KNOX SETTLED Elsa’s designer suitcase at the foot of the bed in the Good Riddance Bed and Breakfast. For all the times he’d been to Good Riddance over the years, he’d never been inside the bed and breakfast situated on the second floor of the air strip center. It, like the rest of the town, offered a feeling of welcome and the sense of a place out of time.
Four, maybe five guest rooms shared a communal bathroom at the end of the hall. The walls and floor were all wood. Lace-trimmed flannel curtains hung at the window, a braided rug covered a portion of the floor and a handmade quilt decorated the white iron bed. An old-fashioned washbasin and water pitcher sat atop an antique stand with an oval mirror. A small artificial tree stood in the corner, its multicolored lights twinkling. Wooden ornaments hung on branches. Bull Swenson was a champion whittler. Knox was certain it was Bull’s work. His grandmother would’ve loved it. It was only in the last six months that he could think of Mormor without feeling overwhelmed by desolation.
Outside, dark was already descending on this December midday. Yet another thing that imparted a sense of the “olden days” was the absence of street lights. Years ago the citizens of Good Riddance had voted against them. Despite the impending dark, Chrismoose preparations continued in full swing. The sounds of barking dogs, kids’ laughter, snowmobiles, snatches of conversation and laughter drifted up. Bustle and excitement filled the air and a sense of homecoming filled Knox. Good Riddance had been something of a second home over the years, particularly at Chrismoose.
The celebration had become a regional draw for the small bush town. Years ago a hermit named Chris would ride his pet moose into town a few days before Christmas. Chris wore a Santa suit and always brought a sack of toys he’d spent the year carving and assembling for the kids in town. After Chris’s death, Merrilee, the town founder and mayor, kept the tradition alive in his honor. It had become a weeklong festival of winter games and competitions, a talent showcase of local artists, and a Miss Chrismoose pageant.
Being here was definitely bittersweet. Since he was twelve years old, he and Mormor had attended Chrismoose with Trudie and her parents. It had become a long-standing tradition.
Early on, it was simply the hermit on his pet moose and the two families had spent time ice fishing and cross-country skiing. Chrismoose had always been one of the highlights of his year. Even once he was an adult, he still showed up to escort Mormor to Chrismoose—and Trudie and her parents were always there as well.
Trudie... He just couldn’t think about her. He actually did a damn fine job not thinking of Trudie most of the time.
It had been nearly two years since he’d been in Good Riddance for Chrismoose. Last year he and Elsa had spent the week before Christmas skiing in Alyeska.... Well, he’d skied and Elsa had spent her time at the spa. She’d said they should start a new tradition, one a little more sophisticated and upscale.
There had been another change in his holiday tradition. He’d never told Elsa about the custom he and Trudie had started as kids and continued until Mormor died—they exchanged gifts for the twelve days before Christmas instead of after. As kids they’d drawn each other pictures illustrating the verses of the song. As they’d grown older, it had morphed into a gift for each day. But there had been no gifts last year. And he had switched the damn radio station every time that song had come on.
It was ironic that Elsa had dubbed Chrismoose hokey and provincial. Once she’d pointed it out, he did kind of see it that way. But they were here this year so Elsa could preside as a visiting “dignitary.” She had been heavily involved in the pageant scene since she was a teenager and had served as a judge for Anchorage’s Miss Snow Queen; she’d been dubbed the long-standing Miss Snow Queen even though she no longer officially held the title.
Knox was only accompanying her as a favor. He’d told her they were done and she’d asked him to see her through this as her “date.” He didn’t think it was such a big deal for the Snow Queen to be escort-less but she’d asked him this favor as a parting gift, so they were here, ostensibly “together.” And it was an opportunity for him to “run into” Trudie. He’d missed her—her sunny smile, her sense of adventure, her insight. But it had been so damn long, calling would be awkward. Running into her at Chrismoose would be inevitable.
“Thanks, you’re a doll,” Elsa said, bussing him on the cheek rather than really kissing him—she didn’t want to smear her lipstick. She twirled around, her white-fur trimmed dress swirling around her. “How do I look?”
Her blonde hair appeared casually piled atop her head in a cascade of curls. However, Knox had been privy to all the preparations and knew just how much effort went into the end result. The casual style was a carefully constructed illusion. The white, fur-trimmed suit and matching mukluks with off-white, intricate beading did set off her luminous porcelain skin, though. “You’re stunning.” And she was. He was constantly struck by her beauty. Unfortunately, it only ran skin-deep. “You are the perfect Snow Queen.”
She smiled, revealing her perfectly straight teeth, whitened to a gleaming sparkle. “Oh, you’re so sweet.”
No. Knox wasn’t particularly sweet, but he had the drill down by now. And oddly enough his veterinary training had helped. Elsa was high-maintenance—kind of like dealing wit
h a high-strung horse.
“Okay, gotta run. Duty calls.”
“Have fun,” he said as she sailed through the door.
Elsa took her duties as a visiting dignitary very seriously. She was booked in here at the bed and breakfast while Knox was at the cabin where he and Mormor used to stay. The Knudson brothers, sons of one of Mormor’s friends, had a very basic cabin for hunting and fishing in the summer and had always made it available to Knox and his grandmother. Trudie and her folks stayed in a similar cabin about a mile away.
The place would truly be fraught with memories of Mormor and Trudie and her family coming and going. He hadn’t broached Elsa about sharing the cabin with him. As a guest “celebrity” she needed to be accessible, which meant in town at the bed and breakfast. That made sense. And it was just as well. While Elsa’s company would’ve kept his loss at bay, he wouldn’t have to listen to her go on about how pedestrian the accommodations were. Hell, it was a hunting and fishing cabin.
Knox gave her a few minutes’ head start and then he and Jessup made their way downstairs to the airstrip office where Merrilee Danville Weatherspoon Swenson sat at her desk. She’d been elsewhere when he and Elsa had arrived and Tessa Sisnuket had shown them to Elsa’s room.
“Knox Whitaker! Jessup! It’s so good to see you both.” She enveloped Knox in a hug and then ran her hand affectionately over Jessup’s head. The dog’s tail thumped against the ground.
“Hi, Merrilee. It’s good to see you again, as well.”
As a young teen, he’d sort of had a crush on Merrilee for a season. Even though she had to be hitting her late fifties or early sixties, she was still a pretty woman with sparkling blue eyes, a ready smile and a generous warmth that nonetheless cut straight to the chase.
He’d considered her the coolest of the cool. Damn, the woman had founded the town of Good Riddance nearly thirty years ago and turned it into the charming haven it was today. The town greeting, compliments of Merrilee, was “Welcome to Good Riddance, where you get to leave behind what ails you.”