by Vella, Wendy
“Shut it down, Nash. She’s telling you now, and roaring won’t help that,” Fin said. He wasn’t having her yelled at when she had already been through so much.
“You don’t get to tell me how to speak to my sister,” Nash snarled.
“I will if you yell at her. She was wrong not telling you, but now she is. Intimidating her is not helping anyone.”
They glared at each other.
“Enough,” Maggie’s father said. He had an arm around his wife, who was crying. “Fin’s right, Nash. While I’m angry too, yelling won’t help.”
“I’m sorry,” Maggs said, looking ready to cry herself, which made his chest hurt. “Really. I was wrong not to tell you.”
Nash exhaled. “How would you feel if the roles were reversed and it was me over there, shot and hurting, and I didn’t tell you?”
“Angry,” she said in a subdued voice.
Ford arrived, and the story was recounted again. He was no more happy than his brother had been, but he didn’t yell at Maggs, he just looked devastated. Fin realized then, this was a family who loved deeply. It wasn’t the life they lived, or what they had beyond these walls; this family had love in its foundations. He envied them that.
They talked it through, and Fin watched silently, drinking more coffee. His family had never talked stuff through; they just ignored the great big black cloud that had loomed over their life. His mother, he realized, had been unstable, one minute happy, the next sad. Sometimes irrational and others sane. It had been exhausting growing up with her, and he’d resented his father for always working and leaving Fin and his sister to cope with her.
“Show us, then.”
“What?”
“I want to see your scar,” Ford said.
Maggs shot Fin a look; he simply raised a brow. He’d seen the scar and the lovely creamy skin around it. He’d run his mouth over that skin and caressed every part of her he could before passion had driven him to take her. He planned to acquaint himself with the rest of her soon.
She lifted her shirt and rolled up her sleeve and let her family see. Fin only saw her back. The line of her vertebrae and waistband of her jeans. He looked away, feeling uncomfortable that just her back could have him hot in seconds.
She told them about the gallery then, and that didn’t go down any better. When it was done and everyone talked out, they said their goodbyes and got back in his car.
“Feel better?” he asked when they were back out on the road heading to Ryker Falls.
“I feel like I’ve been awake for twenty-four hours and all of it standing in the middle of the road evading oncoming cars.”
“It’s done now.”
“Not all of it.”
“They’ll forgive you too. There may be more yelling, at least from Pip, but they’ll move on. The rest of the town will then find out, and you’ll be something of a hero.”
“Oh, God.” She banged her head against the window.
“Tomorrow will be better.” He stroked her cheek. Hell of a thing, this need he now had inside him to touch her.
“I hate you.” She yawned. “But loath as I am to admit it, I feel lighter inside that I can let my crazy out and no one will flinch now.”
“You’re not crazy. Just a little nutty.”
“Nice, I like nutty.”
The next time he shot her a look, she was sleeping.
He drove slowly, taking in the scenery, enjoying that she was here with him. As they approached Ryker, his cell phone buzzed. Answering, he listened.
“Okay, I’ll drop by.”
She hadn’t woken as he talked, so he pulled up outside Tea Total and gave in to the need inside him to kiss her. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over her cheek.
“Wake up, Maggie.”
Her eyes opened. Still heavy with sleep, she looked at him above her.
“Hungry?”
“I think so.” Her words were raspy.
“Think so?” He kissed her soft lips, taking her mouth on a slow, sweet journey.
“Fin—”
“I like kissing you, and considering I’ve thought about doing just that and the other things we did many times today, I’m not sure I’ll be wanting to stop anytime soon.”
She was still slumped against the door, but her eyes were coming back to life.
“It makes things complicated.”
“Life is not meant to be easy, Maggie.”
“You got that right,” she whispered. Her hand touched his cheek. “You’re a good man, Findlay Hudson, if a little controlling.”
“It’s not controlling; it’s assertive. Please note the difference.”
She snuffled. “I should have told the people I care about; I see that now. So, thanks.”
“Welcome.” He leaned in and kissed her again. He kept it soft, but felt it to his toes. “So, food,” he managed to get out when he sat upright again.
“I could eat now all that acid is not twisting in my stomach.”
“Let’s go then.”
She sat upright, looking around her. “Oh my God! You kissed me on the main street of Ryker Falls!”
“No one saw.”
“Someone always sees!” She got out of his cruiser so quickly, she stumbled and only just managed to right herself.
“Settle down.” He joined her. “No one saw.” He pulled his hat back down on her head, as it had risen up during her sleep.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, her eyes going left and right.
“Awww, come on, you know you want me.” He laughed as she gasped in horror, eyes shooting left and right again.
“Stop it!”
“All right, I’ll behave, but it’s fun riling you up.”
“Like I haven’t been through enough already today.” Her words had a snap to them.
“I know what you’ve been through, sweetheart, and I promise I was only teasing you. Come on, I need food.”
She tried to fight him as he grabbed her hand, hissing that someone would see; strangely, he didn’t care.
Fin wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but he wanted to be close to her. For now, he ran with it.
“Hello!”
“Shit,” Maggs muttered, trying to shake of Fin’s hand and failing as Mr. Goldhirsh and his cycling buddies pulled up at the curb.
They dismounted, but only Mr. Goldhirsh lifted his bike onto the sidewalk, then placed it onto one of the bike stands that had suddenly appeared around town.
“They haven’t always been there,” Maggs said, briefly distracted.
“Mayor Gripper and Mr. Goldhirsh are poetry buddies. My guess is he leaned on the mayor to get these here,” Fin whispered in her ear. He only just resisted nipping it.
“Didn’t you go walking with your stick thingies this morning?” Maggs said, prying Fin’s fingers off hers and moving closer to Mr. Goldhirsh. “Doing so much exercise is not good for your recovery, surely?”
Mr. Goldhirsh was wrapped up to rival an Egyptian mummy. Even the lower half of his face was covered.
“Exercise within your limits, Maggs. It’s all a matter of understanding that.”
“You should come with us, young lady. We could do with a pretty face to look at,” one of the men said.
Fin stomped down the unreasonable snap of jealousy. These men could be her father, for pity’s sake. Get a grip.
“Dazza,” the man said, holding out his hand for Maggs to shake.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not really much for hot sweaty exercise.”
And suddenly he was back in his bed with her under him. Fin shook his head to dislodge the erotic image.
“We’ll work on that,” Mr. Goldhirsh said. “See you later, boys.” He raised a hand as his friends cycled away. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”
“Hi, Miss Marla, Miss Sarah,” Fin said as they walked into the shop, which was bigger now. They’d knocked out a wall, you could buy books in part of it, and the tea shop had more tables. It was homey, which he loved, and t
he changes only enhanced that.
“Hello, you two. Have you worked out the handwriting, Maggs?”
“Sorry, I thought it would come to me, but it hasn’t, Miss Sarah.”
Good girl.
“Fin, sit. I need someone to taste test this tea, and even though you’re terrible at it, I live in hope that will one day change,” Miss Marla said.
“You’re not going to get all bent out of shape when I get it right, are you?” He sat. When one of the seniors of this town asked you to do something, you did it.
“As if you would.” Miss Marla chuckled. “No one but Joe can get it right.”
“Which is odd,” Fin said, “seeing as the guy drinks coffee.”
“Go on through with Mr. Goldhirsh, Maggs. The knitting club are straggling in. We’ll make tea and bring scones, and you can join in.”
“Oh, but knitting is not—”
“It’ll do you good to learn,” Miss Sarah said, placing a hand on her back and nudging her into the other room. “It’s soothing and helps us relax and empty our minds. Especially after the day you’ve had. I’m not going to mention what you didn’t tell us happened. I think you’ll have enough people doing that.”
“My mind could sure do with emptying,” he heard Maggs mutter.
He was then blindfolded and handed a cup. He’d long ago given up on working out how the gossip grapevine worked in this town. He doubted his friends would have gone out of their way to tell anyone what happed to Maggie in London, but it had traveled around town anyway.
“It’s hot, so sip it slowly.”
“I know the drill, Miss Marla; I’ve been doing it for years.” He took a mouthful, and a bouquet of flavors filled his mouth.
“You sweet on that girl, Fin?” Miss Marla asked him.
“Some.” He didn’t lie; these women could spot one a mile off.
“About time” was all she said.
“Something with roses?” Fin sniffed the cup in his hands. "And tea.”
“Not bad, actually. There is a Darjeeling tea, rose essence, and Assam tea.”
“Right, I was going to say that next,” Fin muttered as he heard the bell ring.
“You want a real man to do that for you, Miss Marla?”
“Real man,” Fin scoffed, taking off the blindfold. “Boy, you have no clue what that means,” he said to Jack.
“Is Maggie here?” Rory asked as she slipped around Jack.
“She is, and go easy on her. She’s had a rough day.”
Rory was short, feisty, and spoke her mind. She’d been born here and left; when she came back, it was fair to say she was pretty much hated by most people. Now she wasn’t. Engaged to a Trainer, she was now universally loved. Being one of the town’s vets helped too.
“I would never be hard on her!” Rory pressed a fist to her chest. “I remember what’s it like to have people pissed with you. It’s not pleasant.”
“Gotcha,” Fin said when she stalked by him.
“That went well.” Jack patted his cheek and followed his woman.
“Whipped puppy.” Fin threw the words at his friend.
“Hi, Fin.” Mandy wandered in with her knitting bag and her man.
“Hey, Mandy, Ted. You knitting too now?”
“Ha, that’s the easy part. Apparently, I have to make the coffee and butter the scones.”
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
“You think I’m mighty? Hell, Fin, that just about made my day.”
“Figure of speech, bud.” Fin watched Ted walk behind the coffee machine.
“You go on through and knit a few rows. I’ll bring your tea.”
“Ha. I’ve never knitted a day in my life.”
“Well now, Findlay Hudson, that is about to change.”
Fin straightened from his slouch at the counter as Mrs. Taft walked in. Rory’s old nanny must be in her eighties, but she could snap out her words like a drill sergeant.
“Come along, boy.”
“I need to go, Mrs. Taft.”
“I think not.” She grabbed his elbow and tugged.
If he’d wanted to, he could simply shake her free and leave, but these people had made him part of their lives when he’d first arrived. The elders of Ryker Falls had molded him, and they commanded respect even if he didn’t always agree with them.
“It’s good to have a hobby.”
“I ride my bike.”
“That includes sitting still and just being.”
“God’s truth, Mrs. Taft, I have no idea what that means.”
“And isn’t that the problem with you young’uns,” she said like he was eight. “No time to just sit and contemplate. Always running about with electronic devices in your hand.”
She had a point there, Fin thought as she tugged him into the other space where books lined shelves. He fell into the seat she pointed to.
“Now, Fin, these are needles.” Mrs. Taft handed him two. Shuddering, he wondered how long this torture would last.
Chapter 28
“Through the hole, round the pole, out of the hole and off, Maggs,” Jack said.
“What?”
“That’s how I used to remember the knit stitch.”
“Right, okay.” Maggs stabbed the needle in the stitch, looped the wool round, then yanked it out.
“Good girl, but maybe a little less aggressive on the out of the hole part, as all your stitches will come off the needle,” Jack said from beside her. He was knitting a blanket for Grace’s dolls.
One of the most handsome and smooth men she’d ever met, the man knitted. He always had and didn’t care who knew. It had always amazed her, but she also felt kinda proud of him that he owned it.
“Right, less aggressive.” Maggs focused and slowly worked her way along the row. She’d never knitted and never wanted to, but after the day she’d just had, why the hell not give it a try?
“Quite some day you’ve had for yourself, red.”
“It has been the longest of my life.” She sighed. “But I feel calmer for talking about what happened in London, like I don’t have to pretend so much anymore.”
Jack’s needles clacked as he knitted at the speed of light while she stumbled through her first row.
“Why did you think you couldn’t tell anyone, Maggie?”
“I don’t know, really. In the beginning I was a bit out of it, then I thought there was nothing anyone could do, so why worry you all. Besides, I would recover and be completely normal again.”
“You were never normal to begin with, so stop deluding yourself,” Rory said. She was leaning on her man’s shoulder above him, watching as he knitted.
“There is that,” Jack said, raising his face for a kiss.
Love, Maggs thought, was everywhere in this town. Her eyes shot to Fin again; he was trying to politely get away from Miss Sarah and Mrs. Taft—and failing.
“My hands are too big,” he protested as he tried to handle the knitting needles.
“You have lovely hands, dear.” Miss Sarah patted one. “You just need to slow down.”
Maggs giggled. He gave her a mock scowl, but she saw the laughter in his gaze.
How was it possible he looked hot sitting there, uncomfortable, with an elderly woman on each side of him teaching him to knit? Really hot, she had to concede, and now she knew what was under those clothes, Maggs had to admit it wasn’t going to be easy to ignore what Fin made her feel anymore.
“I don’t think knitting is for me,” Fin said to Mrs. Taft. “I mean, you really have to be in touch with your feminine side, and I’ve never achieved that like some men I know.”
Maggs switched her gaze to Jack, who she knew this dig was aimed at.
“All man here, bud; you just ask the woman hanging off me.”
“Is that a lace fan stitch, Jack?” Mr. Goldhirsh asked.
Maggie couldn’t help it; she giggled. Fin’s lips twitched, and Rory patted her head. These were her people, she thought, and now they knew about he
r, as did her family. Maybe Fin was right. It was like ripping off a scab; now the healing would start.
“Bob and Nancy got a chair delivered,” Miss Marla said, arriving with Mandy. They set up a table in the middle of the circle—or coven, as they had been called a time or two.
Fin, she noted, was frowning as he pushed the needle in and looped the wool at Mrs. Taft’s urging. He had no idea what turn the conversation was about to take. Maggs did, because Mandy had told her once what went on at knitting club meet-ups. She swallowed her smile.
“You need to focus there, sweetheart, you dropped a stitch,” Jack said. He took the needles and fixed it for her, then handed it back with a wink, as if he too knew what was about to take place.
“It had all these straps and things, and a lever that moved it in a whole heap of directions.”
“It’s a chair. How many directions could it possibly go?” Fin said to Miss Marla.
“Well now, Fin. They get at it all the time. This is just one more apparatus in a long list of them they’ve ordered from the inter web.”
“At it?” Fin swallowed, and to Maggs he looked a little pale now.
“They got two huge bottles of lube this time, and this gel that’s meant to heat up when it contacts skin,” Mr. Goldhirsh said. “Jed from the post office said the package had a small tear in one corner, so he had to open it to make sure there were no drugs being smuggled in.”
“Yes, because this is a hotbed for drug runners,” Ted said, wandering in with a plate of scones, and one of chocolate cake that had Maggie’s mouth watering. “You girls doing okay?” He snickered at Jack and Fin.
“I’ll have coffee, Ted, two sugars, please, and not too hot. I don’t want to burn my mouth.” Jack gave his friend a wide smile.
“Same goes, but one sugar, and if you could just add a sprinkle of chocolate on the top too,” Fin added.
Ted snarled, took the rest of the orders, and left.
“So let me get this straight, you guys are discussing the sexual habits, or should I say habitat, of Bob and Nancy Hawkins?” Fin asked. He had a bit more color now.
“They have a swing, Fin,” Mrs. Taft said. “That’s it, dear, you’re doing great.”
“I’ll be knitting a shawl like Jack in no time.”
“Or a nice bike seat cover for your Harriet,” Jack replied.