Through the Mist (Gold Valley Romance Book 3)

by Liz Isaacson

  His stomach dropped through the floor and landed near the entrance of the church, a full story below. “It’s Shelly.” He glanced up at Megan, his voice sounding haunted as it echoed around them. “The realtor for Brush Creek.”

  He moved further from Megan as he tapped to dial Shelly. When she answered, he said, “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Did you read any of my texts or listen to my messages?”

  Landon ran his hand up the back of his head. “No, I just saw that you’d called.” He glanced at Megan. “I was busy, and—I just called right back.”

  “The house at Brush Creek has flooded. I think it probably happened yesterday, from what I can tell. It was just dumb luck that I came up at all. I wanted to leave you a housewarming present—non-perishable, of course—and I noticed a distinct chlorine smell.”

  Landon’s heart had left his body, but somehow it was pulsing in his temples. “Well, I—”

  “I called a restoration company, but they need a credit card for a deposit.”

  “Of course, of course.” Landon headed for the stairs. “Let me get to my truck. My wallet’s there.”

  “Landon, I know you said you weren’t going to move here for a couple more weeks, but I think you should come now. The restoration guys will need you to confirm what you want done.”

  Landon’s boots smacked against the polished wood of the stairs, and he jogged to his truck, his mind spinning. He managed to give Shelly his credit card information, get the phone number of the restoration company she’d hired, and say good-bye before he leaned against his truck, all thoughts of dinner with Megan and then more kissing completely gone.

  “Megan,” he moaned, and he rushed back to the church, where she waited in the doorway. It framed her perfectly, and his heart ached. “My house at Brush Creek flooded.” He gestured over his shoulder like the house was just right there and she could see all the water damage. “I don’t know how bad it is. The real estate agent just happened to be there, but she thinks it happened yesterday. I—”

  Megan put her finger on his lips, silencing him. “Landon.” She smiled at him lazily, like they’d taken an evening hike and she wanted him to kiss her before they left the waterfall, the way they’d done last night after work. “Go. Call me when you get there.”

  “The chapel’s done,” he said weakly. “Come with me.”

  She shook her head, her smile turning down in the corners. “I can’t come.”

  “Why not?” He swept into her personal space, his mind operating on very little at the moment. Instinct. Desire. Emotion, not rationality.

  “I have my community groups to oversee and my Sunday School class to teach.”

  Landon recognized a flimsy excuse when he heard one, and with so much teeming in his mind, he let it go. “Okay, well, dinner, then?”

  She grinned and it seemed pretty genuine. “Go book your flight and pack your bags. Again, call me when you get there.” She stretched up and pressed her lips to his. He hung onto her hungrily, hoping to infuse his desire for her to come with him to Utah into his touch.

  “I’ll call you,” he promised.

  Megan watched Landon hurry to his truck, get in, and drive off. She had the distinct feeling it would be the last time she’d see him in Gold Valley.

  “Ridiculous,” she scoffed as she turned back to the church so she could get her purse, go get her dinner for one. She stopped by her father’s place, unwilling to grab something and go home alone.

  “Dad,” she called as she entered her childhood home. Strong memories stared at her from the walls. Her and her younger sister wearing Mickey and Minnie Mouse ears. The only family vacation to Disneyland they’d ever taken.

  Her high school graduation, with Carrie’s right beside it. Family pictures over the years she never wanted Landon to see. Her life had changed when cosmetic companies started making anti-frizz products.

  “Megan.” Her father appeared at the mouth of the hallway.

  “Want to go to dinner?”

  He tried to see around her. “Where’s Landon?”

  “His house in Utah flooded. He’s in emergency mode.” She did a little curtsy. “Just me tonight.” Her voice almost cracked on the last word, so she pasted on a smile. “Where do you want to go?”

  Her father smiled. “It’s Friday night.”

  “Ah, so the all-you-can-eat buffet.”

  “It’s seafood night.”

  Megan tipped her head back and laughed. “Seafood night. I’ve never been tempted less.”

  “You can still get your rabbit food.” Her father grabbed his wallet and gestured toward his garage. “I’ll drive.”

  “That would be great,” Megan said.

  He ushered her into the garage and locked the door behind her. Once they’d settled into the car and he was backing out of his driveway, he asked, “How are things with Landon?”

  “Dad, I don’t want to play Twenty Questions tonight.”

  “Okay, okay. I just know you didn’t come into the church at all last week. Canceled all your meetings.”

  “We worked things out.” She watched the houses go by, wondering if she should just tell her father about Eric. Come clean and tell him everything.

  He doesn’t need to know, she told herself. She’d only brought Eric home a handful of times, and claiming they broke up without further explanation had been hard enough.

  “I’m glad to see you with him,” her dad said. “He’s a good man.”

  “He is,” Megan agreed.

  “How are you feeling about things with him?”

  “Dad.”

  He took both hands off the wheel in a sign of acquiescence. “Sorry. I just want you to be happy.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  He glanced at her, concern etched in the lines around his eyes. “You’re not happy?”

  “You asked me to come back to Gold Valley for two years before I did.”

  A frown settled between his eyes. “But you seem so happy here.”

  “I’ve been throwing myself into the community groups. That brings me happiness.”

  “You fixed up the church. It’s beautiful.”

  She sighed and leaned back in her seat. “Yes, it is.” She patted his hand and gave him a smile. “That makes me happy.”

  “But you’re not inherently happy here.” He wasn’t asking, and she shouldn’t claim that she was. She was trying to stuff her life with purpose, living each day with faith that one day she’d be able to achieve that inherent happiness.

  The truth was, she still needed to figure out how to get over her own humiliation. Get over her fear that she couldn’t choose the right man. Get over her whole self, basically.

  “I’m working on it,” she said again, wondering what about Landon made her distrust herself to make an intelligent decision regarding him. She certainly liked how she felt when she was with him. She absolutely liked kissing him. She definitely wanted to tell him everything about herself.

  He’d never given her a reason to feel anything but safe with him. Anything but loved. Why then, did she feel like she needed to slow things down between them? Really take her time to learn who she was before she figured out who she was with him.

  She got herself a big salad at the buffet, with a side of macaroni and cheese. Her dad eyed her dietary choices and grinned. “You’ve always loved that mac and cheese.”

  She took a delicious bite. “I totally have.” Megan smiled when she realized there were some parts of herself Eric hadn’t touched. She’d been doing great before he showed up two weeks ago. Seeing him had brought back everything she’d been trying to forget.

  Forget, not get over.

  Forget, not move past.

  Forget, not forgive.

  Sitting there with her father, with Landon preparing for yet another trip to Utah, Megan realized she need to forgive Eric before she would be ready to move forward with Landon.

  22

  Landon called the next morning, right af
ter Megan had stepped out of the shower. “It’s after ten,” he said by way of hello. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No.” She collapsed onto her bed at the sound of his voice. “Where are you?”

  “Just landed in Salt Lake City.”

  “I did like that city.”

  He sighed. “There’s something magical about the mountains here.”

  “I’ve always loved the mountains. It’s one of the reasons I lived in Jackson Hole. The Tetons were only minutes away, constantly looming over you.”

  “Brush Creek isn’t quite like that,” he said. “Though it is in the mountains.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He talked, and for a man who usually finished a story after three sentences, he spoke for several long minutes.

  “You nervous?” she asked him.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “Water damage isn’t cheap to repair, and I just got the place. I don’t even live in it yet.”

  She wondered how much of his savings he’d spent on the ranch, and how much was left. He’d never seemed worried about money before. “I believe it will work out,” she said. “Listen, I hate to cut this call short, but the gardening club is expecting me today.”

  He burst into laughter. “So you’re ditching me to go hang out with a bunch of geriatrics who are worried about their rose bushes?”

  “Your dad is the chairperson of the group.”

  “I know that. That’s how I know they’re talking about the diseases their bushes are susceptible to at this time of year.”

  Megan sniffed. “Yes, well, the leaves on our rose bushes along the back of the church have this powdery stuff on them.”

  “Right. Powdery mildew.”

  Exasperation shot through her. “How do you know that?”

  “My dad is a horticulturalist,” he said. “And he never stops talking about it. I’ve known about powdery mildew and Dutch elm disease since I was born.”

  “He is the perfect candidate for our garden club, then.”

  Landon laughed again. “I think you made the right call there, for sure.”

  “Well, I really do have to get dressed and get to the meeting.”

  “You’re not dressed?” The interest in his voice couldn’t be mistaken for something else.

  Megan grinned. “You caught me just as I got out of the shower.” She gripped her towel tighter with her free hand, like he might burst through the door.

  “Hmm.”

  A flush rose through her neck, though he was miles and miles away. “Call me once you know the extent of the damage.” She hung up, got dressed, and walked to the church, her thoughts always circulating around Landon.

  Is this what it feels like to be in love? she wondered as she approached his father and the other members of the garden club. They’d clustered around the rose bushes she’d mentioned, and she finally forced Landon from her mind as she joined the ring peering at the white dust on the bush’s leaves.

  Landon kept the music loud in the rental car. He didn’t want his mind to have the ability to wander, to speculate, to obsess over what he might find at Brush Creek. The car seemed like a box, much too small for his tall frame. Or maybe it just couldn’t contain his anxiety.

  He drove slowly through town, not only to obey the speed limit, but to see what a Saturday afternoon in Brush Creek might look like. People walked down the street pushing strollers and walking dogs. The park’s picnic tables were full of families eating. The grocery store parking lot held dozens of cars, as did the diner and the barber shop. Landon noticed more streets branching east and west than he’d noticed before, and he liked the small-town atmosphere of Brush Creek.

  He turned at the north end of town and headed up to the horse ranch. He found Shelly’s red convertible there, along with a van that read RIVERSIDE RESTORATION on the side and had multiple hoses spilling out the back.

  After parking next to Shelly, he took a few seconds to whisper a prayer. “Please, if it be Thy will, let this be a quick and fairly inexpensive restoration.” He opened his eyes and got out of the car, his boots crunching over the gravel until it met sidewalk and grass.

  He almost paused at the front door and knocked, then he remembered that he owned this place. Still, he wasn’t sure if he could just start traipsing around the place, so he retraced his steps to the garage, where all the hoses led.

  “Hello?” he called into the three-car garage.

  Shelly poked her head out of the entrance that led into the mudroom. “Landon, you made it.”

  “I sure did.” He met her in the middle of the garage. “You wanna show me around?”

  Her face didn’t change. No smile. No sympathy. She gave a quick jerk of her head toward the backyard. “Let’s start with the swimming pool.”

  “Starting” with the scene of the crime—the swimming pool—had seemed like a good idea. But all it did was alert Landon to the fact that he didn’t know the first thing about maintaining a swimming pool. Or a hot tub.

  The lawn he could handle. The exterior of the house, everything inside. He reminded himself that it was just a swimming pool, and surely there’d be instructions somewhere online to help him keep it algae-free.

  Oh, and fix the pump that had broken underground, causing the leak into the house.

  “So the flooring will need to be redone,” Shelly said as she stepped into the open dining room from the back patio. The sound of several industrial fans made the house feel like an airplane hangar.

  “The restoration company very nearly has everything dried out.” She scuffed her toe along the warped wood. “But this was hardwood, and well, wood and water don’t mix that well.”

  Landon swept his eyes along the bottom of the cabinets—it was obvious how high the water had reached. About three inches up was all, but it was enough to leave stains.

  “They’ll dry out the walls, do the mildew treatments, replace the baseboards, and restore the cabinets.” The more Shelly spoke, the more money Landon bled. He nodded, and kept nodding, until she finally fell silent.

  “Carpet?” he asked.

  She inhaled and took him into the living room. “The carpet probably saved the rest of the house, because it absorbed the water. It was wet all through here and all the way down the hall.”

  “So a new floor in the whole house.”

  “Not upstairs,” she said. “And the master down here was completely spared. So you have somewhere to sleep that isn’t filled with fans and chemicals. I brought you an air mattress.”

  Landon managed a smile before he stepped down the hall and into his master suite. Without any furniture, it just seemed like a great big empty room.

  At least it wasn’t wet.

  He put off calling Megan for as long as he dared. Sure, he knew she’d still be awake, but he was functioning on his last pod of energy, and if he didn’t call her now, he wouldn’t until morning. And she wouldn’t like that.

  But she wouldn’t like what he needed to tell her either.

  He dialed anyway. Either she was meant to be his, or she wasn’t. They’d worked through some hard things the past couple of weeks. He had faith they could get through this too.

  “Hey,” she said, sounding chipper and more awake than he’d felt all day.

  “Hey.” He wiped his hand down his face. “It’s not good news, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, no.” She moaned. “How bad?”

  “Swimming pool malfunction. Water in the house. All the floors need to be replaced. The walls have to have holes drilled in them and fans blowing air inside for three days. Then they have to do a mildew treatment, and then come back and test to make sure everything is dry and clean.” He exhaled, his heart suddenly pulsing against his lungs. “They’ve got dehumidifiers going like crazy. And the fans. It’s a good thing I like white noise, because they’re loud.”

  “Well, look at it like this. You can redo the floors however you want.”

  “Silver lining,” he said. “I like that. And Megan, he
re’s the thing….”

  She waited on the other end of the line, and he wanted her to say something. What, he didn’t know. Maybe he wanted her to tell him that maybe he should stay until everything was done. He didn’t want to be the first to say it.

  “What’s the thing?” she asked.

  “I feel like I need to be here until the restoration is done. The guy shot questions at me for a half an hour today.” When she remained silent, he added, “And I kinda want to put in the floors myself. You know, find some reclaimed wood or something. Fix it up nice. Lay it throughout the living room, kitchen, and dining room.” His fingers twitched with the need to hammer something, to get outside of these walls. But he had no jobs here in Brush Creek, no horse to ride.

  Just this empty house, the distinct smell of chlorine, and the deafening sound of all those fans.

  “Megan?”

  “So you’re going to stay at Brush Creek?”

  “For a few weeks,” he said, making his voice light. He didn’t quite pull it off. “Actually, Megan, I think I’m just going to stay here permanently. I can pay a moving company to pack my stuff and drive it down here. I have—” He cut himself off from saying he didn’t have anything in Montana keeping him from moving.

  Megan was in Montana. And only five days ago, he’d told her he’d wait for her. Wait for her to work through things. Wait for her in Montana.

  “I have plenty to do here,” he finished lamely, hoping she hadn’t heard his unspoken words.

  “Okay, Landon.” Her voice sounded calm and quiet. He almost wanted her to get frustrated like she had when she’d come out to Horseshoe Home and confronted him in the hay barn. This acceptance unsettled him. “I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up before he could respond.

  He pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it. Definitely disconnected. He dropped the phone, his head drooping toward his chest. Would his decision to stay at Brush Creek end his relationship with Megan?

  It certainly felt like it, though she hadn’t said as much. He felt it deep down inside himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back. His life was here now, and he needed to be at Brush Creek.