Falling Like Snowflakes (33 page)

The boy slinked from the couch, and Kate helped him with his coat and boots as Beau carried out her things. He barely felt the cold nipping at his skin. Heart heavy, he opened the trunk and stowed the suitcase and bag. By the time he closed it, Jack and Kate were coming down the walk, Zac on their heels.

Aunt Trudy had said good-bye earlier and left to set up for her Sunday school class.

Kate embraced Zac, saying something in his ear that Beau didn't even want to hear.

He picked up Jack and held him tight. “Gonna miss you, bud.”

“Me too.”

His throat tightened. “Keep practicing with your tools. Maybe your mom'll let you help hang pictures and stuff at your new place.”

Jack hung on for a long moment, then Beau set him on his feet. Zac grabbed him up and did an imitation of the tree shaker. The two of them bobbed around until the boy finally smiled.

Kate turned to Beau. The swelling on her cheek had gone down, but the purplish bruise remained. Her honey-brown eyes lifted to his. There were so many emotions flickering there. Warmth. Regret. Resolution. And underneath it all, fear.

His eyes pierced hers.
Stay
, he thought.

Resolution settled over her features before her eyes shuttered. She lifted her chin a fraction of an inch.

A knot tightened in his throat.
Okay, then. Okay.

He pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around him, and his heart gave a heavy sigh. He held her tight against the ache in his chest, wishing her nearness would make it go away. He wanted to hold her here forever. But by day's end she'd be far away at a location she'd carefully avoided mentioning.

If he was never going to see her again, he was going to say it one more time.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “You're a special woman. Don't ever forget that.” His throat ached. His eyes burned. His heart was in shreds, as if it had been dragged for miles over a gravel road.

He hoped his words rang in her ears, louder than the other voices he was sure she heard.

Her chest rose and fell against him. He closed his eyes and drew her in, that sweet, citrusy smell he loved.

Then her arms loosened.

He dropped a lingering kiss to the top of her head and stepped away, his heart banging in protest. He tried to catch her eye, but she only blinked and turned to grab Jack's hand.

“Ready, kiddo?”

Zac opened the door for Jack, and Kate rounded the car. Seconds later she put the car in gear and started down the drive. She didn't look his way, just lifted a hand, staring straight ahead.

The ache inside Beau spread as he watched the car retreat. He stared until all he saw was a plume of steam condensing in the cold morning air. He crossed his arms against the hollow spot opening in his chest. It was all he could do to stand here. To not chase after her. He was a man who solved problems. A man who took care of the people he loved. But Kate wanted to solve her own problems. She wasn't his to take care of.

And it was killing him.

“You're really going to just let her go?” Zac asked.

Beau gritted his teeth. “It's what she wants.”

“And that's that? Since when did you give up so easily?”

His eyes cut to Zac. “What do you want me to do, tie her up in the cellar?”

Sounded like something her late husband would have done. Who knows, maybe he had. The thought did nothing for his mood.

“Did you even tell her how you feel?”

He glared at Zac. “Yeah, buttinsky, I did. As you can see, it had a marvelous effect.”

Zac held his hands up, palms out. “I'm not the enemy here, bro. I just know a little about where you're at right now.”

Beau thought of Zac's ex-fiancée and felt a pinch of guilt. He'd been a wreck for weeks. Still wasn't over it.

Zac stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You don't know how many times I wish I'd done things differently. Now she's gone, and it's too late.”

Beau softened at the regret on Zac's face. “Kate's been through a lot. She's looking for freedom.”

“And she thinks she'll find it in some backwoods cabin?”

Beau looked back down the drive, empty of all traces of Kate's departure. “She's already free. She just doesn't know it.”

Chapter 38

E
den turned into the long, plowed driveway. It wound and curved among towering pine trees. The car rumbled over an old wooden bridge that spanned a frozen creek.

She'd called her dad after she left Summer Harbor. He begged her to come back to Hattiesburg, and it was hard to say no. But she wasn't ready for that. Wasn't strong enough. If she went back to that trailer, she'd get stuck in his sticky web and never be free.

Eden turned the wheel as she rounded a curve and emerged in front of a cabin she'd only seen in pictures. It looked different all covered in snow, the flower beds barren.

“There it is,” she whispered to herself.

It was a simple log cabin with a wide front porch. A thick layer of snow covered the roof, and a stone chimney marched up the side of the house. Later tonight there would be smoke curling from that chimney. The walk leading to the door had been shoveled, and the drapes in the windows were open. Karen must have sent someone to freshen up the place.

She pulled up to the house and shut off the engine. “We're here, kiddo.”

Micah opened his eyes, stirred, then stretched.

Eden stepped outside and shivered against the frigid air, huddling deeper into her coat. She scanned the landscape. The trees stretched into an overcast sky, naked and skeletal, and the cold wind bit at her skin. But nothing could deflate her mood. At least there were no other houses in sight. And maybe the lake was buried under ice and snow now, but it would be gorgeous come spring.

Not as gorgeous as Summer Harbor.

She wrestled the thought to the ground before it could drag her under, then handed Micah his duffel, taking the heavier suitcase. The house key was under the empty flowerpot on the porch, just as Karen had said. If all went well with her business, Eden would eventually be in a position to buy the property. Karen had said she was in no hurry. Someday all of this would be Eden's.

The screen door creaked as she opened it, but the heavy wooden door behind it swung easily on its hinges. Bright shafts of sunlight streamed through sparkling windowpanes, and dust motes danced in the air. The fresh scent of Pine-Sol tickled her nose. The stone fireplace took up the far wall of the living room, and beyond it, a sunny yellow kitchen beckoned.

There was the rug Karen had bought at the flea market and the comfy leather recliner her grandmother had left her.

Eden drew in a breath of clean-smelling air and let it flow out her mouth. She was here. They'd made it. She was going to set the thermostat at seventy-two degrees, and later she was going to draw a bath and fill it all the way to the top. She was going to wear her red pajamas, start a cozy fire, then she was going to cuddle up in that chair and finish the Debbie Macomber novel she'd been carrying around for weeks.

And tomorrow . . .

Tomorrow she was going to the library to sign up for a library card. She was going to bring home a whole stack of novels. She was going to go to the grocery, and she was going to buy Twinkies. She was going to search for a church, and she was going to get in touch with her former customers. She'd do whatever was necessary to salvage WhiteBox Designs.

Eden followed the sounds of Micah's footsteps, finding him in the smaller room that used to be her friend April's. It was still decorated with a frilly yellow bedspread and white eyelet curtains.

“What do you think, kiddo? A whole bedroom all to yourself. We'll get you some Superman sheets and curtains. How'd you like that?”

Micah's gaze wandered around the room. His brown eyes looked tired, like he needed more than a nap. His hair was tousled from the wind, his shoulders slumped. He looked so . . . lost. He'd been clingy and fragile the past couple of days. But at least he hadn't retreated into his silent world again.

Eden sank onto the bed and patted the spot beside her. He climbed up. His feet dangled off the side, and his hands curled in his lap.

She wrapped her arm around him and set her head on top of his. “This is our new home. We'll make new friends and have a wonderful life here. I promise.”

Beau's image danced into her mind, his mocha eyes twinkling, those perfect lips tilting in a crooked grin. She could see the crescent-shaped dimple on the side of his mouth, the light brown flecks in his eyes.

She blinked the image away, ignoring the way her chest squeezed at the thought of him.

“You'll see,” she whispered. “It's going to be everything we ever dreamed.”

Beau threw himself into work the next several days. He was outside as soon as the sun rose and didn't return until darkness had fallen. He got rid of the unsold wreaths and cut trees left over from Christmas. He stored the machinery and lights. The gift shop had taken awhile to pack up. He could have kept his help on for that, but then he wouldn't have a way to fill the empty hours.

The house was too quiet without Kate and Jack. The lonely clack of Aunt Trudy's knitting needles was about to send him up the wall. He got books from the library on website design. The farm's pathetic site was in dire need of an overhaul. He was going to figure it out if it killed him—and it just might. He knew nothing about HTML and CSS code, but he had time to learn. It kept him busy, thinking about something besides Kate.

He trudged up the porch steps, eyeing the front door like it was the latest in torture devices. Who was he kidding? He found plenty of time to think about her. She was the first thing on his mind before he opened his eyes in the morning. A constant tug at his heart while he worked. The last thought he had before succumbing to sleep.

He opened the door, feeling nothing but dread. The sun set early in January, and the long evening stretched ahead like an endless highway. He greeted Aunt Trudy. She sat in the recliner, her needles waving under her practiced fingers.

The hooks on the coatrack all taken, he moved things around to free up space. One of Kate's hot-pink mittens fell to the floor by his feet.

He glared at it, sighing hard.
Come on, God. Give me a break. I'm trying here.

He picked it up, holding it an extra moment before hanging it on a hook beside its mate.

“There's a ham in the Crock-Pot if you're hungry,” Aunt Trudy said.

“Thanks. Maybe later. How was your day?”

“Good enough. Had lunch with my book club and stopped in at the Knitting Nook. Got this new yarn. Isn't it nice? I'm making a sweater for Lydia Franke's new grandson.”

He looked down at the bright blue ball of fuzz. Kate would have loved the color. He hung his coat on the hook, his hand remaining there. He had to shake this funk. But she was everywhere in the house. In the kitchen, in front of the sink. In the dining room chair across from him. On the end of the sofa, looking up at him with those vulnerable eyes.

He lifted the coat off the hook. “I think I'll head to the Roadhouse for a while.”

Aunt Trudy studied him over the black rim of her glasses until he looked away. It was Saturday night. The Roadhouse would be busy and loud. Just what he needed.

“You can't run away from your problems, Beau.”

“Maybe not.” He slipped into his coat. “But I can stay busy enough to forget them awhile.”

The Roadhouse was packed, and the TVs blared. Somehow he'd forgotten the Pats played in the divisional round tonight. The game was already under way, the Pats ahead of the Broncos 10–7.

A server scurried past with a tray of appetizers and drinks. The smell of buffalo wings made his stomach rumble. Maybe he could eat after all. See, he was already feeling better.

A cheer rose up as the Pats got the first down, and Beau clapped, scanning the crowd.

Zac waved from across the room, and Beau headed his way. He had the large corner booth with Paige and several others. They greeted Beau, barely glancing away from the screen as he slid in beside his brother.

Across from him Paige had her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked young and spunky in her Pats jersey. How was it that he felt nothing but friendship for her when they'd been together for months? He'd only known Kate for six weeks, and losing her felt like a semi crushing his heart.

He ordered wings and a drink and settled in to watch the game, high-fiving everyone at the table when the Pats put up another touchdown. During commercial breaks he fielded questions about the New Year's Eve excitement. Everyone, it seemed, had heard about the showdown. And everyone wanted to talk about it. The feds had arrived in town the day after in a black sedan rental. They'd stood out like giraffes on the beach in their tidy suits and shiny shoes.

He was glad when the game came back on, capturing everyone's attention. Everyone's but his. After the interrogation he couldn't get his mind off Kate. Wondering where she was. What she was doing. If she missed him.