by Debbie Burns
The concern in both their expressions only made her want to shut down even more.
“You have cancer? Why didn’t you tell me?” It was harder to talk than she might’ve guessed; little razors were cutting into the back of her throat.
Myra crossed the room and carefully bent over her, her knees popping in disapproval. She covered Josie’s shaky hands in her own.
“I asked Carter not to tell you. It was my hope that in a few months I’d be able to tell you a different story than the one I can tell you right now.”
Josie slipped her hands from under Myra’s grasp. “What do you mean?”
“I’m old, that’s what I mean. Cancer’s a bitch, Josie, but I’m eighty. In a perfect world, it’s unlikely I’d have another full decade of life in these frail bones.”
“Then how many do you have in this sucky one?” Any strength had all but washed from her tone by the end of the sentence.
After giving Josie’s knee a single pat, Myra righted herself slowly and crossed to the window. “There’s the possibility of surgery in my future,” she said, “especially if those pills are able to shrink the tumor. With it, I could easily have five more years. Who knows, maybe longer.”
Carter, who’d been watching the exchange in silence, crossed the room and set his coffee on the desk. He squatted in front of Josie and closed one hand over the back of her calf, squeezing it soothingly. He was lucky her body had gone numb, or she’d probably shove him right onto his ass.
She needed to clear her almost-paralyzed throat in order to talk. “And if they don’t?”
“A year at most,” Myra said after a pause, her voice faltering. “I should know more in another month.”
Josie bolted to her feet. “Don’t,” she managed as Carter stood with her and started to close a hand over her shoulder.
She needed to go to Myra, who seemed exceptionally pale and broken as she watched for Josie’s next move. Josie loved her more than anyone except Zoe. She needed to tell her it was okay; she was angry, but she’d forgive her. She’d be here with her. Every step of the way. No matter what.
But back when she’d needed it most, she’d built a fortress around her heart, and it was always there, ready to do the work she’d built for it to do. The walls inside her closed up defensively, just like she needed them to.
“That really sucks,” was all she managed before she stormed across the room and out the front door.
Carter jogged out of the house after her as she rushed down the porch steps. “Josie, I’m not saying it was right of her to keep it from you, but please don’t walk away from her right now. That woman in there loves you more than anyone in the world.”
Who did Carter think he was? He’d gone from prying into her past last night to telling her how to navigate her relationship with Myra.
There was so much she wanted to say in reply. Words of betrayal. Of defense. Of accusation. But they were locked up so tightly, she was certain she’d never get any of them out.
So instead, she looked his way long enough to tell him where to go—long enough to see the hurt register in his eyes—then continued down the steps.
She had no idea where she was headed, so long as it was away from the two of them.
* * *
Myra met Carter at the door as he stepped inside. With her hair half full of curlers, the pleading look she gave him made her seem a touch deranged. “You were right; I should have told her after seeing that doctor.”
Carter forced himself not to look out the window after Josie as she disappeared down the street. “There’s nothing that can be done about it now.”
“Nothing but wait her out.” Myra let out a breath that seemed to deflate her like a balloon. “She’s worth the difficult time you’re having breaking through those barriers of hers, by the way. If you’re wondering.”
“I have no doubt of that.”
After a pause, she added, “If only I’d hid those pills out of sight.”
The last thing Myra needed weighing her down was guilt over her decision to keep the truth from Josie a while longer. “She had to learn sometime. And now, it’ll be out in the open.”
“Maybe so. But the thing about Josie, she’s frailer than she believes. In some ways, at least. In other ways, she’s tougher than kryptonite. I’m afraid I might be one of the few things than can break her.”
Carter wasn’t entirely sure he disagreed. But he wasn’t about to tell Myra that either. “Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat.” Outside, the wind was picking up and the sky was clouding over. It was likely to be a slow morning when the tea garden opened.
“I am hungry, but perhaps we could go out instead? There’s a breakfast place I enjoy in town. If we stay here, I’ll have my ear trained on that door every moment.”
“Yeah, sure. I’m good with that.” He nodded toward her half-curled hair. “I’m guessing you need a little bit.”
“Suddenly the way I look when I meet up with Bob later doesn’t seem as important. I’ll take these out and brush through the curls. It doesn’t take anything more than a light headwind to flatten them, anyway.”
Carter chuckled. “I’m ready when you are.”
Myra’s favorite breakfast stop was tucked into the lower Galena hillside, offering a view of the bustling town around it. Carter got lucky with a close parking spot, and there wasn’t a wait to be seated.
Bothered by the chill seeping in from the large windows, Myra kept her jacket on and zipped as they perused menus and were served two steaming mugs of coffee. “She left without a jacket. I hope she isn’t too cold.”
“Maybe she’s back by now.” Even though he said it, Carter was doubtful. Josie had had a look that said she wasn’t coming back anytime soon.
“I’d be surprised to see her home before the bus,” Myra confirmed. “But she’ll come back for Zoe. I’m confident of that.”
“What happened to her brother?”
Myra dropped his gaze and looked out the window at a group of women passing on the sidewalk. “If she’s talking to you about her brother, I’m sure she’ll share more with you in time.”
“She isn’t. She says his name in her sleep. She hasn’t told me anything.”
“If it helps, she won’t share her past with anyone.”
“She did with you.”
“And I won’t betray her. When she first came, her night terrors were much more…chilling. She confided in me more out of necessity than anything else. She couldn’t pull out of them easily on her own, and Zoe was a bigger mess than she was in many ways. Josie needed me to know. Her nightmares nearly disappeared for a few years. She felt safer, I think, before you came. Now that you’re sleeping together, they’ve gotten worse. She’s like a soda, my Josie. All that pressure bottled up so tightly, then someone comes along and shakes it up. That pressure needs to release somehow.”
“Are you saying I should take a step back, if she isn’t finished with me already?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. If I wasn’t afraid of her running again, I’d tell you to shake her until she explodes. I’m fairly confident she’d still be Josie, just not Josie in a bottle.”
Carter took a swig of coffee. “I wasn’t planning on her. Not in the slightest.”
“The best things in life aren’t planned for.”
“I can’t help but think that I just spent eight years patching together a relationship, and it fell to shambles anyway.”
“You can’t compare Josie to that woman. She might have her faults, but she’d never cheat on you.”
“No.” That he knew for sure. Josie was nothing like Katherine. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with her if she was.
“You’re searching for her online, aren’t you? I caught a glimpse of your computer screen the other day. Whatever you do, make certain she doesn’t see it.
”
“Will I find her? Eventually?”
“Yes. She doesn’t know it, but I’ve made a point of running a search on the computers at the library once a year. I endure my own week or so of night terrors every time I confirm that someone out there is still searching for her. Actively too.”
Carter’s jaw went rigid. “Could you give me her name at least? Because the one she’s using came from a mom-and-pop diner on the corner of Water and Hill Streets that went out of business about six years ago.”
Myra’s thin fingers closed over her throat. “You’re a smart man, Carter. You’ll find her soon enough on your own. You’re searching for pictures of a young woman who went missing around the age of twenty. That’s all you really need to know.”
Chapter 28
After a several-mile walk, Josie hung out at the park in town, watching the gentle flow of the river and using a cove of evergreens as a wind block. At first, it didn’t seem as if the soft ripple of the water could calm the unease flooding her the way the ocean had done the times she and Sam had taken the bus to Manhattan Beach. Sam had walked around searching for bits of shells to throw into the ocean while she’d sat on the sand and lost herself to the rhythm of the waves.
As minutes spilled into hours, the first hint of acceptance ebbed in. It wasn’t that she’d never considered Myra might not be here one day; Myra was eighty years old. But people were living longer and longer. Myra took care of herself, ate well, and managed her arthritis. Before this morning, Josie had every reason to hope Myra would be here another ten years at least. Realizing she might only have one was unfathomable.
Hunger and the chill in the wind eventually forced her to get moving again. She crossed over the pedestrian bridge and made her way into the center of town. She warmed up by browsing in a series of shops, her attention caught by figurines that Zoe would struggle not to pick up. She staved off hunger with a handful of samples in the old-time market. It came as a surprise when she realized she was close to the spot where she’d first planted herself on a bench hours after arriving in town, almost two thousand miles from the only home she’d ever known.
Even though the already-chill winds were picking up, she made her way over to it. Finding the bench empty, she took a seat, twisting to keep her back to the wind. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d sat here with baby Zoe—an angel with her brother’s eyes and early signs of his intensity too—on her lap. Josie hadn’t had a dollar to spare, and a mess of trouble had been calling her name. Yet somehow, she’d found her way to that magnificent old mansion on High Street with one of the most remarkable women in the world as her friend and mentor.
And she’d built a life that shadows whispered was too good to be true.
A single year left with Myra—that might be all she had before it came crumbling down.
A woman in leggings, high-heeled boots, and a faux-fur jacket passed by her, filling Josie’s nostrils with the thick scent of too-sweet perfume. Her thoughts trailed to Abigail Moore and Myron O’Brien. Abigail hadn’t mentioned which street she’d been on, but Josie guessed it might well have been this section of town where she first spotted Myron. He’d come here like Josie with little more than the clothes on his back, made a life for himself, and taken a lover. And ended up dumped in the river. Who was Josie to hope she’d find her happily-ever-after here when others before her who’d been just as worthy hadn’t been so lucky?
She sat still as long as possible, waiting for guidance of one sort or another, but nothing came. Finally, she was shivering so wildly, she couldn’t sit still any longer.
And she didn’t need guidance to be certain of one thing. Regardless of how much time Myra had left, Josie wasn’t leaving her.
She warmed up in a candle store, inside which she realized it would be time to get Zoe off the bus in another half hour. Rather than head up the steps and pass by Myra’s along the way, Josie kept to the street and sidewalks, heading the long way up Green Street, approaching the bus stop from the opposite direction.
While still two blocks away, she spotted Carter’s empty Mustang parked across the street from Zoe’s bus stop. Scanning the area, Josie spotted Carter leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak tree. He was browsing on his phone and either ignoring or oblivious to the mommy trio who were gawking his direction as they talked.
Josie steeled herself as she continued walking. She was angry he hadn’t told her, but she knew beyond a doubt Myra would’ve made her wishes clear. To tell her, Carter would’ve needed to betray Myra. And knowing him, his silence most likely hadn’t been an easy one.
Carter spotted her when she was within fifty feet of him. He slipped his phone into his pocket and strode the final block toward her purposefully. It came as a bit of a surprise, the way she allowed her stride to quicken too. She melted into him, burying her face in his chest and slipping her arms inside his jacket as she soaked in his warmth.
He smoothed back her hair and pressed his lips against the top of her head. “I’m sorry. So very, very sorry. I should’ve told you.”
“I understand why you couldn’t.”
Her mother had told her men like him were nothing more than actors playing a part—men who treated women with compassion and tenderness and respect. In her mother’s world, that might well have been true. But she wasn’t in her mother’s world anymore.
Even though he’d not said it aloud, Carter loved her. Josie had glimpsed it in a dozen different ways. It was here, now, in his touch and the unmasked emotion in his voice.
Too vulnerable to address it, she turned her attention to something safer. “Why did you drive here? Myra’s house is three blocks away.”
“She’s been worried all day that you’re going to take off.” His arms stayed locked around her, and his mouth was just above her ear, tickling her as he spoke. “She asked me drive to Zoe’s school to make sure you didn’t have those kinds of plans. When I saw Zoe get on the bus, I drove here hoping to find you.”
“Well, she can stop worrying; I’m not strong enough to run again.”
“She can’t lose you, Josie. It would kill her faster than the cancer she’s fighting.”
“I know. I’m not going anywhere.”
He let out a long exhale, and Josie caught a hint of mint and lemongrass on his breath. “The thing is, I don’t want to lose you either.”
Josie pulled back to look at him. “Were you drinking tea?”
“Myra insisted Peace of Mind calmed the nerves.” He grinned. “But I tell you I don’t want to lose you and that’s your reply?”
Josie bit her lip. “You don’t like tea.”
“I’m starting to see where it has its benefits.” He cocked his head slightly. “But make no mistake about it; I’m a mug man. So, if there’s a blend you’re going to ask me to try, you’ll have better luck if you don’t serve it in a teacup.”
Josie brushed her lips against his. “I won’t. Promise. And I have the perfect blend for a blustery afternoon like this.”
“Blustery, huh?” His grin was cut short when she closed in for a second kiss. She locked her nearly frozen fingers on both sides of his face and opened her mouth to his, savoring the taste of chamomile, mint, and lemongrass on his tongue.
She didn’t know why a single cup of tea mattered so much, but it did. It wasn’t that she hadn’t already picked up on a dozen wonderful qualities. She had. But Carter was open to change.
“I love you, Josie,” he breathed when they pulled apart.
She felt equal stabs of pleasure and pain. “How can you love me when there’s so much of me you don’t know?”
“I don’t know all of you, but I know enough. I know Josie Waterhill. Kickass mother. Master of card houses. Manager of tea gardens. Maker of exotic tea blends. Loyal friend. Lover of Buttercups. Winner of cook-offs.”
Stifling a laugh, Josie buried her head against his chest
and closed her eyes. “You forgot one.”
“What?”
“Lover of Carters.” After a short pause, she clarified, “One Carter, anyway.”
Her words were muffled by his shirt, but she knew he heard them by the way his hands locked tighter around her hips.
“I wasn’t sure you’d feel safe enough to admit that. Especially today.”
“If I hadn’t spent the day trying to accept the fact that I might lose Myra, I don’t think I could’ve.”
They stayed locked together until the screeching of the bus’s brakes forced them apart. When the doors opened and Zoe clambered out, Carter kept Josie’s hand locked in his. It was clear Zoe noticed by the way her eyes lingered on them, even though she didn’t stop talking long enough to acknowledge it; she had so much to tell them about her day.
* * *
Carter chuckled over the way Zoe’s mouth twisted in concentration as she squeezed homemade Play-Doh through her fingers. The kitchen counter and surrounding floor was a mess of flour, and Buttercup was hanging out nearby, trying to swipe occasional drops of dough.
“I like how squishy it is.” Zoe tightened her fingers until all the dough had squirted out in globs. She yelled up at the ceiling for her mom to come see it.
“Maybe we should give her a bit longer, Zo?” Carter suggested. “I think she’s talking to Myra.”
“You made this with your mom?” she reaffirmed, even though he’d already said so. She lifted the dough to her nose and inhaled deep enough that her thin shoulders lifted.
“Yep. A lot when I was your age.”
“I wonder if my mom ever made it. I love how it smells. It’s my third favorite smell in the world, just under root beer floats but better than fresh doughnuts.”
“Oh yeah? So, if root beer floats are your second favorite smell, what’s your first?”
Zoe’s eyes grew as big as saucers and she shook her head, sending her brown hair tumbling over her shoulders. “I can’t say.”
“You don’t have to, but just know you can tell me anything.”