by Norah Wilson
“All right then.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate—”
He hung up.
This day just was not getting any better.
There was a low tap tap on the door and it was all she could do not to groan. Even before a third tap landed, she knew who it was knocking.
“Come in, Mrs. Boisvert.”
The door opened slowly, and a trim, petite, and heavily made-up woman entered.
April desperately wanted to be alone, but she dredged up a polite smile. By the look on Mrs. Boisvert’s face, she wasn’t any keener on being here in this little suite than April was to have her there. Which reminded her…
“The place is clean,” April said. “I’ll still run a wet mop over the floors before I leave.”
The older lady made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, please don’t bother. Its fine, I’m sure. That’s not why I’m here.”
Oh, great. What now? She’d already alerted the Boisverts to the slip of paper she’d found with the credit card number on it. It was theirs, and Sidney had used it online. As April suspected, she’d used it to make a donation on behalf of a dog that was at risk for euthanasia if the funds for its expensive medical treatments couldn’t be raised. Fortunately, the Boisverts had agreed not to alert the credit card company or the authorities in exchange for restitution, which April had already made.
Wasn’t it enough that she’d lost her job? Missed her chance to impress K.Z. McCoy? That her little girl had run away? Had Mrs. Boisvert come to heap on recrimination? Tell her what a terrible parent she was, raising a delinquent?
Whatever she had to say, April would meet it head on and deal with it politely and with dignity. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Boisvert sat on one of the cushion-covered kitchen chairs but didn’t tuck herself into the table.
April waited for her former employer to speak. She’d be damned if she opened yet another conversation with an apology. Yes, she was sorry that her daughter had used Dr. Boisvert’s credit card. Sorry that she’d caused so much trouble by running away. And April was very sorry she hadn’t been in the kitchen to cook for K.Z. McCoy. But as sorry as she was, she wasn’t prepared to grovel.
She’d need to save all of that for placating Harley. And if Mrs. Boisvert thought for one moment she was going to sit here and listen to one more bad word about Sidney, well she could stick that in her—
“I’m so very sorry about all this. I can see you’ve been crying. I know your daughter is safe in New Brunswick, but it’s obvious how heavily the whole affair is weighing on your heart.”
April hadn’t expected a show of sympathy. A genuine show. “Thank you.”
“Such a nice young man, Scott Standish. He told me he’s putting off that big job in Alberta to help out at the family farm for a few months.”
He was? He hadn’t mentioned that to her. She figured he’d be off to Alberta as soon as he delivered those motorcycle parts for his brother. Of course, he hadn’t confided much in the few days he’d been there. Which was okay with her. The parting two weeks ago had been wrenching enough. She couldn’t afford to let him get close. He seemed to be thinking along the same vein because he hadn’t tried to get her alone. April counted it a partial success. While she’d stayed out of his arms, there’d been major eye contact. And thanks to Sidney’s efforts, they’d been thrown together regularly.
“Can I offer you some tea, Mrs. Boisvert?” Not the smoothest change of subject, but hopefully it would work. “I haven’t quite finished packing up the kitchen. I have lemongrass and decaf English breakfast.”
She shook her head. “No. Thank you, dear. But it’s very gracious of you to offer, considering…”
Gracious? “Mrs. Boisvert, I don’t blame you. I know I let you down this morning. And Sidney—”
“It’s Jean, you know,” she said. “Dr. Boisvert can be very unforgiving. If it were up to me, I’d give you another chance. You’re such a wonderful cook, April. I’m so sorry to lose you.”
“Thank you. I wish it had worked out here.”
“Me too.” She drew a deep breath. “Well, I really cannot stay. Jean and I are going into the city for the evening. But I wanted to tell you that if you need a reference, please contact me rather than my husband.”
April managed a light tone. “He didn’t like my cooking?”
Mrs. Boisvert smiled. “Seriously, April, you have a great talent. Dr. Boisvert loved everything you cooked. Everyone loved it. And your jellies and jams…superb. You should go into business for yourself.”
April almost laughed. Or almost sobbed—she wasn’t sure which. Her little dream was farther away than ever. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“The entrepreneurial road is not for everyone, that’s for certain,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’d better get going before Dr. Boisvert comes looking for me.”
April stood. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Bon chance ma chère. I’m so sorry it didn’t work out. If I hear of anything, I’ll let you know, if that’s all right?”
“Yes, please. You have my cell number?”
“I do.”
With a last nod, Mrs. Boisvert left and April went back to her packing.
And her thoughts.
Her daughter was safe, and that was more important than anything else in the world. But that didn’t stop her from worrying. From missing Sidney like crazy. Like she’d been gone for a hundred years. Or from grasping tight to the balled up tissues in her hand, ready to cry again.
When was Scott going to call? He’d had plenty of time to talk to Sidney, hadn’t he?
She packed a few more of her well-seasoned sauté pans into the box, topped it with crumpled paper, then closed it up. Grabbing the huge tape dispenser, she taped the box closed. Then she turned back to cupboards and the dishes standing ready for packing. The little suite had been furnished, with a cupboard full of dishes, but like most women, April had her special ones. Nothing expensive or extravagant, but they were the first set of dishes she’d ever owned, bought when Sidney was just a baby. The beautiful chocolate fondue set that Scott had bought for her.
Despite herself, tears welled again.
She was not one to cry easily, or often, but today she couldn’t seem to stop. She’d cried tears of fear, tears of relief. Tears of frustration and sorrow and yes, a little self-pity. How could she have any tears left?
She knew what was behind Sid’s running away—Scott Standish. Sid had been missing him since he’d left before Thanksgiving.
She should have done a better job preparing her daughter for Scott’s return, drilling it into her that he was only here to put some finishing touches to a couple of jobs around the place. For his part, Scott could have called ahead to alert her so she could try to manage the situation better. But he hadn’t. He’d just shown up three days ago, and Sidney had greeted him with such hope. Stupid, childish hope.
How could she blame her daughter, though, when she’d felt that same spurt of hope herself when he’d walked through the door? Hope that he’d stay. Hope that he’d be with her. Of course, April had quashed it ruthlessly.
Sidney had hugged Scott like there was no tomorrow. Or like she had on her birthday.
The three of them dining at Pizzeria Napoletana on rue Dante for Sid’s favorite thin-crust pizza, then home for the Morgan gals traditional birthday cake—banana, with a slathering of April’s own homemade strawberry jam between the layers. Topped with cream cheese icing and sprinkled with chopped pecans.
Naturally, there had been ten candles. Sid had blown them all out in one breath.
“What’d you wish for, Sid the Kid?”
“Can’t tell.” She grinned like the Cheshire cat, as if she had the biggest secret in the world, or more likely, had made the best wish ever.
Then there’d been the gifts. April had given her the ladybug journal and the complete Harry Potter collection, which Sidney was finally old enough to read. She’d
loved them, but her enthusiasm had paled compared to her reception of Scott’s gift—the telescope. She’d been over-the-moon elated and had thrown her arms around in him in a big hug.
Scott had hung around to set up the telescope and help Sidney find and identify some stars with the aid of the amateur astronomy guide he’d also given her.
Two days later, his brother had called—he was needed at home. With the job ninety-nine percent finished, he’d left the next day.
Poor Sid. She’d been angry, outraged. She’d tossed that journal—the one she’d so carefully glued Scott’s star-tacular card to the cover of—right out the window of their suite. April had retrieved it, but she hadn’t seen Sidney add to it since. No scissors and pencil crayons spread out over the table. No sticky glue or glitter to be scrubbed off the vinyl tablecloth.
April went to the fridge and removed the picture of her daughter in the magnetic picture frame. It was one of those school portraits, and wisps of flyaway hair that should have been airbrushed away stood out from her head. Her smile was beautiful, though.
April pressed the picture to her chest, heart aching for her daughter. She understood what it was like to have someone you love leave. Which was why she’d made no attempt to track April’s father down and bring him into their lives. And why she’d tried so hard to keep Scott at a safe distance.
She totally got it. The bitter disappointment, the devastation, the anger.
But to do something so stupid as stowing away in the back of a truck? What if there’d been an accident? She’d have been tossed out like a rag doll. Or impaled with some motorcycle part. Oh God, she must have been so cold.
What if—
April’s phone rang and she dived for it. Scott, finally!
“Scott? Is Sid okay?” she said immediately. “Did she say anything? You told me your sister’s a doctor? Did she—”
“Take it easy, April,” he said, his own voice calm and slow. “She’s fine. Ember checked her out and she’s none the worse for wear. She was hungry and cold. But she’s fine.”
“Where is she right now? Is she there with you?”
“Not this minute, no. She’s upstairs in my sister’s room.”
“Napping?”
“Not exactly. I’m giving her a time out.”
Under different circumstances, the comment would have made April grin. Scott meting out discipline? Now, though, it just sharpened her anxiety. “Why? What’s she done?”
“She tried to run away again.”
“From the farm?”
“Yes. She snuck out while I thought she was upstairs changing clothes. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
“Where did she think she was going?” Dear God in Heaven, what was going on with her daughter?
“I caught up with her and asked her the same thing, but she wouldn’t talk to me. Says she won’t talk to you, either.” She could hear the frustration in his voice. “I know she can be stubborn, but April, this is…”
“Beyond stubborn.” She felt tears well again but battled them back. What if she ran away again? She knew nothing about the country. “Is she alone?”
“Don’t worry. She won’t take off again. Our old dog is babysitting her.”
“Axl?”
“You remember.”
“Oh yes.” She remembered he’d named his dog Axl. That his mom, Margaret, had gotten the dog for a newly-orphaned Scott when he’d come to Harkness to live with them. She also remembered Scott liked old black and white movies. That his big brother, Titus, had taught him how to throw a punch, and that in his younger, wilder days, he’d had occasion to throw a few. He loved dill pickle chips but never adopted that Canadian taste for ketchup chips. That some nights he’d sneak out of the house and wander to a place he called Slamm’s Landing—best place ever to think about your life. On clear nights when the sky was cloudless, you could practically reach up and touch the stars. Oh, and Crooked Man Cave was apparently just as good.
April remembered everything he’d said on those late nights when they’d traded stories. She also remembered sharing something else with him. Soul-stirring kisses, on that little sofa in the living room, while Sid slept soundly in her own room.
She wet her lips. “What do you mean, babysitting?”
“He tried to warn me when she got out the first time. Whined and barked, but I ignored him.”
“Did you say she was upstairs? And aren’t the stairs hard for Axl?”
“He seems to be managing them okay, and he really likes her,” Scott said. “He’s not going to be happy with me when I take her back.”
“About that…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eagle eye on her the whole way. We’ll leave early in the morning and should be back in Montreal by—”
“No, I’ll come get her. I’ll come to Harkness.” She blurted out the words so quickly, they surprised even her. But it made sense. She’d have to drive through New Brunswick anyway to get to Nova Scotia where Harley lived. She looked around the apartment. There wasn’t much to pack.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“So you’re going to drive down here, then back home?”
She bit her lip. “Close enough.” She couldn’t tell him she was going to stay with Harley. She’d told him a little about growing up in the Morgan household, and he’d try to fix everything for her. Try to help because that was just the kind of man he was.
“Well, it’ll be good to see you, April.”
Her throat ached, not just from the crying now. Because, dammit, it would be good to see him too. Painful but good.
Oh, it would be so, so easy to let herself love him. When he was around, he was good, steady, and steadfast. But he was still a rambling man. Next stop, northern Alberta.
So all she said was, “Take good care of my little girl. I’ll see you soon.”
“Try not to worry. I’ll keep her safe until you get here. Drive carefully. And whatever’s bothering her…we’ll figure it out.”
“Bye, Scott.”
“Bye, April.”
Two silent seconds later—with so much unspoken between them—she disconnected the call.
Chapter 5
SID SAT perfectly still on the third step from the top of the staircase, leaning forward. Close enough to listen in on Scott’s conversation with her mother, yet near enough to the landing that she could dart back up and into Ember’s room where she was supposed to be serving her time out.
For eavesdropping purposes, it wasn’t ideal. She had to really strain to hear his words. But if she slid her butt any further down the stairs, poor old Axl—her newly acquired canine shadow—might head down after her. He’d had a hard enough time climbing up the stairs, she didn’t want to see him struggle back down, or maybe even fall. She also didn’t want his noisy, thumping steps to give her presence away. She glanced back at the dog, who sat at the head of the stairs as though debating whether or not to start down.
She held up her hand in a clear stop gesture and whispered, “Stay, boy.” Axl’s response was to thump his tail on the floor. Darn it!
“Hush, Axl!” she whispered, a little louder this time, but he only thumped harder.
She tried turning away and ignoring the dog. Thankfully, that worked. Axl stopped wagging and laid his head down, the breath whooshing out of him in a kind of groan.
She’d missed some of the exchange, dang it. She ducked her head even lower, listening hard. Had Scott moved outside? Or into another room, beyond her hearing? Then she heard his voice again.
“Try not to worry. I’ll keep her safe until you get here. Drive carefully.”
Here? Her mother was coming here, as in Harkness, New Brunswick?
That meant there was still time. There was still a chance! She knew it.
And Sid knew something else—she’d been right to stow away in the back of Scott’s truck. As cold and dark and grease-stinky as it had been, she’d done the right thing. Okay, yeah, it ha
d been a dangerous thing to do. She’d never admit it, but she’d been petrified going into that truck stop when it was still dark outside. But she’d do it all over again for this chance. There was no better place to wish on the stars than Harkness, New Brunswick. That’s what Scott had told her, and Scott never lied, even when the truth sucked.
Now, here she was in Harkness, and her mother was coming! Her plan was working already.
It would have been best to get to Slamm’s Landing, but that wasn’t going to happen. She realized that now. It had been silly to try, especially without her sneakers. And yeah, that whole not-knowing-where-the-heck-it-was thing.
Scott had been so disappointed with her when she’d sneaked off. It made her stomach hurt just to think of that look on his face. But she couldn’t tell him what she was trying to do. If he knew what she was wishing for, it could spoil everything. Everyone knew telling your birthday wish could ruin it, and this was so much bigger, so much more important than anything she’d wished for before. She just couldn’t risk it.
But it was looking like she didn’t have to get to Slamm’s Landing after all. Because earlier today, she’d wished on those Harkness stars even though she couldn’t see them in the daytime sky, and now her mother was coming here!
Sid bit her lip. Her wishing might have worked to get her mom here, but that was far from a guarantee that they’d stay. She couldn’t slack off. She had to keep wishing and wishing and wishing.
Everything depended on it.
Everything.
Chapter 6
TWO DAYS later, Scott Standish sat on the back step, sneaking an early morning cigarette. He glanced at his watch—not yet five o’clock. Real early. Cold too.
He exhaled the smoke, then drew and exhaled another breath, watching the white cloud of vapor hang in the air a few seconds, then vanish. It had been this cold the other morning when Sid had been riding in that back of that truck. Poor mite. She’d pressed herself right up against the box. Between that and the tarp, she hadn’t been in the direct wind, but there would have been lots of cold air eddying around back there. And her with nothing more than the clothes on her back and a child’s sleeping bag that had no doubt been purchased more for its Disney print than its insulating power. Thank God for Ember. Her assessment was mild hypothermia. He’d been distressed by her deep shivering and chattering teeth, but Ember had been glad to see it. Something about her heat regulating system still working. And she’d come around quickly.