The Winter Before

by Karen Crompton

  Isaac didn’t reply.

  Shock. Horror.

  Despite living in Woodlake her entire life, Olivia could still appreciate the beauty of the surrounding countryside and the farther they traveled along the highway the more beautiful the passing scenery became.

  The few tall buildings and the quaint shops of Woodlake had quickly given way to longer stretches of road, and before long Isaac had turned off onto the highway, headed out of town with the evergreens whipping past the sides of the truck, the white-tipped mountains in the distance drawing closer with every passing mile.

  The sky was blue and the sun was shining, but Olivia could smell snow in the air. It wouldn’t be long before the green fields that surrounded Woodlake would be green no longer, replaced with a thick blanket of glistening white that would stretch on, and on, as far as the eye could see.

  Olivia sighed softly as the black tarred road zipped beneath them, letting herself enjoy the peace and quiet that came with staring out a window with nothing to occupy her mind other than the passing scenery.

  The truck was a smooth ride. It was a late model, so the seats were clean and comfortable, and there was still a little of that new car smell lingering in the air. But mostly it smelt of pine, and wood, and perhaps a hint of something uniquely masculine. It was clean linen and citrus.

  Isaac’s shampoo?

  “I promise I won’t take long picking out the paint.”

  Isaac’s eyes swept briefly over Olivia’s features when she spoke. She’d been so quiet up until then that he thought maybe she’d decided not to bother with him. That maybe he wasn’t worth the effort of small talk. And that suited him just fine.

  On instinct, his fingers wandered nervously to his face and he scratched at his skin, prickly and irritated at the thought of being under such close scrutiny inside the confines of his truck.

  “I’ll be a while setting up the arbor at the Flannigan ranch. I’ll drop you off at the hardware depot first. There’s a cafe in town if you get hungry. I can pick you up again once I’m finished. Take as long as you need.”

  Olivia felt a strange slide of disappointment in her chest. “Or… maybe, I could just come with you.”

  The words left her mouth before she could think better of things. It was as if her tongue was suddenly working independently to her brain and was now just making up its own rules as it went along. She hadn’t meant to be so forward—Isaac was already going out of his way to help her, but the desire to watch him work was simply too appealing to resist.

  “I mean, of course, if it’s not too much bother. I won’t hold you up, and I won’t get in the way. I promise.”

  Isaac swallowed. “You’ll be bored.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Isaac seemed to consider his options for a while before he spoke, but then he nodded with the smallest shrug of his shoulders. “Whatever.”

  “No, please, contain your excitement.”

  Isaac’s shoulders tensed, but he kept driving. He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to any of this in the first place. It went against everything that felt real, felt natural to him. “I want to be on the road again by three.”

  He’d lost some visual acuity from his injuries in the fire and while he’d regained some partial vision back over the years, it had never really returned to full strength. Driving at night wasn’t impossible, but he had trouble with oncoming headlights, and judging the distance to the guardrails, and that’s why he was hoping to be back in Woodlake before sundown.

  “I just said I wouldn’t hold you up, didn’t I? Maybe you should get your ears checked?”

  Exasperation laced Isaac’s voice. “So, let me get this straight. You’re not only stubborn, but you’re mouthy too. Great combination.”

  Olivia unexpectedly laughed, and Isaac felt the warm air inside the truck lodge in his throat. Her laugh was deep and husky, genuine and true, and it made him feel weird.

  “I’ve been called worse things before,” she quipped.

  “Like what? Irritating?”

  Olivia simply stared back at him. She didn’t know how to respond. Isaac was being derisive, but she kind of liked this side of him.

  Seeing him as playful, teasing, wasn’t something she’d ever expected, and Olivia suddenly felt as if she’d just been given front row seats to her very own private screening of the Isaac Stone show.

  An hour later and the meadows and pastures grew few and far between, stone farm-houses and clusters of timber-framed buildings appearing more frequently.

  The double-lane highway soon narrowed into an off-ramp and before long the shops on the main street of Williamstown came into view.

  Olivia sat up a little straighter in her seat when Isaac passed a few stores on the outskirts of town—a pancake house with pretty blue curtains, a saddler, and a white-washed library which stood proudly sandwiched between what looked to be the town hall and a large medical practice.

  He turned left, and then took the first right at the second set of lights in town, before angle parking in front of the curb just a few yards further down the road.

  “This is us,” he said, turning off the engine.

  Olivia looked out the window. The hardware store appeared very similar to Hathaway’s Hardware, but it was about three times the size.

  Isaac jumped out of the truck, slamming the door closed behind him. He took a step up onto the curb, and then paused slightly, before turning back toward the pickup, frowning as if he’d forgotten something and was annoyed with himself.

  He stepped back down onto the road, opened Olivia’s door for her and held out his hand.

  Well, shit.

  She wasn’t expecting that.

  Olivia accepted Isaac’s hand with a small, slightly awkward smile and slipped down from the front of the truck with ease. Of course, Isaac didn’t elaborate or linger. Once her feet hit the sidewalk, he let her fingers fall away instantly.

  But the small touch felt huge.

  It lasted well after his fingers were shoved inside the pocket of his khakis. Isaac felt the touch fissure up inside him and he tried to push it away, tried to ignore it. And he might have been able to do that very thing if Olivia hadn’t just exhaled a shaky breath as she walked beside him toward the store.

  A doorbell chimed as they entered, and a short man with black-rimmed glasses and a head of greasy hair stood behind the counter.

  “Mr. Stone, nice to see you again.”

  “Hey, Mike.”

  “Abe didn’t mention you were coming to town today.”

  “Last minute thing,” Isaac replied, fidgeting slightly. He rocked back and forth the way a fighter might do before stepping into the ring. Without pause, he slid the order form Abe had filled out earlier across the counter, and then stood to one side so that Olivia was now in full view of the man.

  Big mistake.

  Mike’s eyes slid over Olivia’s body in a way she certainly didn’t expect, Isaac neither for that matter, slowly and lasciviously, and Olivia found herself cowering away from him, shocked by the way his eyes hovered a beat too long on her breasts.

  She shuffled ever so slightly behind Isaac’s wide shoulders, his rigid body acting as a buffer between her and the man who was suddenly making her very uncomfortable.

  “Where’s Martha?” Isaac’s voice was deeper than it had been just moments before.

  “Whaddya want with Martha?”

  “We need some advice on paint.”

  “I’m sure I can help—”

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the one and only Mr. Isaac Stone!” The shrill voice of a portly woman, late fifties, maybe early sixties, suddenly sounded from a side entrance to the store. The door fell closed behind her as she removed a pair of work gloves from her hands, dropping them onto the back bench.

  “Hey, Martha.”

  “And who do we have here?”

  Olivia stepped around Isaac, holding her hand out in introduction. “Hi, I’m Olivia Parker.”

  Martha’
s eyes bounced from Isaac to Olivia, a soft grin forming. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Olivia Parker. Did I hear someone mention paint? ‘Cause if that’s the case, then you’ve come to the right place. Wait here a moment and I’ll grab the paint chart from out back. I won’t be a second.”

  Martha disappeared from sight and Isaac stared back at Mike with a scowl on his face, a look that clearly said he really ought to know better than to be gazing at pretty young ladies in such a lewd way—especially when his wife was one of the sweetest women to walk the planet.

  As promised, Martha returned with the paint chart in no time at all, and after a few quick tips and some advice on the best brushes to use, and the easiest cleanup methods, Olivia promised to have it returned to them by the end of the day. Mike went about filling Abe’s order and before Olivia knew it they were back in the truck again and headed toward the opposite side of town, a subdivision made up of small acreages that overlooked the majestic Whitman River.

  The grass was thicker and greener on that side of town, the road flanked with tall trees that overhung the verge. The last golden leaves of the season carpeted the side of the road, darkened and damp with dew the further they drove, and fat cows and brown horses grazed contently on the lush fodder, glancing up only briefly at the sound of the oncoming traffic.

  About ten minutes later, Isaac steered the truck off the main road, veering down a gravel driveway to the left, and then he slowed to a complete stop alongside an enormous white delivery van that was parked over by a barn at the rear of what Olivia guessed was the Flannigan Ranch.

  She slid out from her seat without pause, not bothering to wait for Isaac this time. She looked all around, trying to take in everything at once.

  The entire property was a hive of activity.

  There were wedding decorations spread from one side of the sprawling lawn to the other, and a stylishly dressed young woman seemed to be coordinating every move with the precision of a well-rehearsed choreographer.

  She ordered two burly men in overalls to hang strands of fairy lights across the front porch of the homestead, and in the same breath she pointed in three different directions, instructing another two men where to place the hanging baskets full of what looked to Olivia to be pale pink peonies—flown in just for the occasion no doubt, being that it was entirely the wrong season for roses in Montana—while at the same time talking into a headset to someone who was apparently ‘letting out the swans.’

  “Holy crap,” Olivia whispered under her breath. “This place is incredible.”

  Isaac shrugged and walked to the back of the truck. He unlocked the tray, letting it fall open with a loud jolt, and then grabbed a pair of work gloves from a leather bag in the back, yanking them roughly onto his hands.

  Olivia followed after him, somewhat stunned by the opulence, the wealth and grandeur of the place.

  The homestead was a sprawling two-story mansion, with floor-to-ceiling windows across the top floor, wide verandas that wrapped around the lower level, and the most manicured gardens Olivia had ever seen in her entire life.

  “You should have told me how fancy this place was. I would have dressed more appropriately.” She glanced down quickly, her tight jeans and sweater not really cutting it. She felt under-dressed and completely out of her element.

  Maybe she could just wait in the truck?

  “You’re fine,” Isaac grumbled, not paying much attention. He unloaded a big box of tools onto the ground beside the truck and then laid out a couple of thick blankets across the tailgate. “You’re not actually going to the reception. You realize that?”

  “I know, but… but look at this place.” Olivia twirled around in one full circle. “It’s absolutely stunning. And it’s the perfect setting for a wedding. Can you imagine? It’s every little girl’s fairy tale come true.”

  Isaac fought the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t agree. The Flannigan estate was too predictable. Too over the top, and most likely didn’t reflect the couple’s personality at all. It was probably what they imagined they were expected to build as their dream home—a dream home to show off their wealth and prestige—but it was too cookie-cutter for Isaac. He was a simple man, with simple tastes.

  Olivia’s head jerked back. “What? You don’t think so?”

  Apparently Isaac hadn’t done a very good job of not rolling his eyes after all. It might have been that, or it might have been the ill-impressed scoff that had slipped from his lips without him realizing it.

  Olivia watched him unlock the straps that secured the arbor to the back of the truck. He took his time, carefully unclipping each one so that they wouldn’t mark the wood.

  “You don’t think this is pretty?”

  “Not really.”

  “Imagine growing up here as a kid. I bet they have a pool out back.”

  “They do.”

  “And look at all that grass. You could fit three full-size trampolines over there and still have room to spare. I always wanted a trampoline when I was little. I never got one. Did you have a trampoline when you were little?”

  “No.”

  Isaac stuffed the truck keys into the back pocket of his trousers, and Olivia watched him walk away from her, toward the front of the house. He was such an intense man, but occasionally she caught just a flicker of vulnerability, and it was in those vulnerable moments that she wanted to know more about him.

  She wondered if he ever thought about the future, about marriage, and weddings, and babies. She wondered if he ever thought about anything at all, other than working at the hardware store, and maybe running.

  So far, he hadn’t indicated as much.

  But she was sure there was more to him buried somewhere deep inside.

  Or maybe it wasn’t locked away so deep at all. Maybe it was all buried just below the surface, and all she had to do was scratch away the top layer to get a better look beneath the prickly brambles.

  Either way, she was about to find out.

  Olivia ran to keep up.

  Isaac stopped to knock on the Flannigan’s front door, and when it swung open, an attractive middle-aged woman stepped out onto the porch, looking completely frazzled.

  “Are you here with the caterers?” she asked quickly, wiping her hands on a damp cloth. “Or are you delivering the suits? I’m sorry, but I can’t make out your face under that mane. Hold it back and let me take a good and proper look at you.”

  On instinct alone, Isaac let his long hair fall even further forward.

  “Neither, Mrs. Flannigan. I work for Abe Hathaway. I’m from the hardware store? I’ve been sent to deliver the arbor?”

  Isaac wasn’t sure why his voice kept pitching at the end of each sentence, as if he were asking a question. But he was uncomfortable and he tended to second guess himself when he got nervous. His skin itched and he squirmed a little, his scars blazing under Mrs. Flannigan’s intense gaze.

  Not to mention the fact that Olivia was standing right there beside him, so close in fact that he could feel the warmth from her arm seeping through the sleeve of his shirt, making the entire side of his body feel like it was on fire. The whooshing sound in his ears left him feeling a little lightheaded, and he just wanted to head home again.

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” Mrs. Flannigan tapped her finger against her lips, recognition suddenly dawning in her expression. “You’re Becky’s boy, aren’t you?”

  Isaac glanced up cautiously. “You knew my mother?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Mrs. Flannigan opened the door wider, so hard in fact that the enormous brass handle hit the stone wall behind it and bounced back toward her. She stepped out onto the porch, wiping her feet on the mat. Her expression was suddenly a mix of surprise and compassion as she let her mind wander back over what seemed like faded, distant memories.

  “Mr. Flannigan and I lived in Woodlake for many years before we bought this place. We certainly enjoyed our time in Woodlake, but Williamstown is such a lovely spot to raise a young fam
ily.”

  Olivia made a rough scoffing sound. She nudged Isaac with her elbow, making him shake his head ever so slightly. His skin tingled where they’d made contact, flipped a switch of awareness, but now wasn’t the time to acknowledge the sensation it caused.

  He wanted to know more about his mother. He wanted to hear if Mrs. Flannigan could tell him anything he didn’t already know.

  “How did you know her?”

  Mrs. Flannigan smiled. “Your mother worked with our eldest girl, Claire, well before you were born. They cleaned rooms together, went out a few times after work, and they eventually became friends. She came by the house a few times, pretty little thing, always giggling if I’m not mistaken.”

  Isaac swallowed, a rush of emotions filling his chest. He blinked a few times to tamper down the tears that threatened to fill his eyes. That’s the last thing he needed. He didn’t remember much, but he remembered his mother’s laugh. She had a really great laugh.

  Olivia smiled politely, introducing herself. “Hello Mrs. Flannigan. My name is Olivia. Isaac was good enough to bring me into town to check out some paint samples. I promise I won’t get in the way. I’m happy to sit in the truck and go through the color swatches while he works.”

  “Oh no, don’t you be silly, my dear. I insist you come in and let me help you. I’m tired of all this wedding hoopla anyway, and I deserve a break. A change of pace will be a very welcome distraction. And just between you and me, I fancy myself as a bit of an interior decorator. Don’t tell Mr. Flannigan though, or he won’t give me access to the credit cards ever again.”

  Mrs. Flannigan laughed and ushered Olivia through the front door, gesturing for Isaac to go and check with her husband—a burly-looking man who had just that moment walked out of the barn and was headed toward them—where he wanted the arbor set up.

  “Please excuse the mess,” she said, once the door was firmly closed behind them. “It’s been like this for weeks. I’m very much looking forward to the wedding, but it sure will be nice for things to return to some kind of normality around this place.”