Bluestone & Vine Read online

  “He looks his age,” Seth said, stepping back until he leaned against the side of his truck. Just two friends, sharing some much-needed information.

  “Have they said anything about whether he’ll be able to walk again? Maggie told me about the second blood clot, the emergency surgery. And that after the first one he had to deal with an infection that wouldn’t go away.” She shook her head. “I keep thinking he’s just going to bang his way through this, but it seems like things keep stacking up against him.” She sighed and wrapped her arms more firmly around her waist.

  “I think when you first see him, you’re going to feel your worries are spot-on. But—” He lifted his hand when her gaze flew to his. “But,” he repeated calmly, “as soon as you start talking to him, you’ll realize he’s got this. And I truly think he does. If anyone can overcome such awful injuries and get back on his feet, it will be Mabry Jenkins. Mark my words on that.”

  Pippa let out a shaky sigh of relief. “That’s more or less what Maggie told me, but I worried that she’s just projecting confidence to make herself feel stronger for her father’s sake, you know?” She rubbed her arms, then finally let her hands fall by her sides again. “I knew you’d be straight with me, and I just wanted to be prepared. I’m so bad at this. He doesn’t need to see me being all fluttery and freaked out.”

  “He’s happy knowing you’re driving Bluebell. Turns out his wife named the truck. It was hers.”

  “Oh!” Pippa gasped, and her expression crumpled a bit. “That’s so lovely.” She looked and sounded truly touched. “Are you sure he’s okay with that?”

  “Very sure.”

  She nodded. “Good. Okay. I love that old heap,” she said. “I truly do.”

  “I told him as much. It made him happy and he said Annie, his wife, would be happy about that, too.”

  Pippa smiled, nodded, and let out a little sigh of relief, but the worry and the nervousness were still clear on her face.

  The two stood there for another few moments, the growing silence not uncomfortable, but not entirely comfortable, either.

  “Pippa—”

  “Seth—”

  They both spoke at the same time, then smiled. “You first,” he said. He thought she might do her little curtsy and was more disappointed than he should be when she didn’t.

  “Nothing, I just thought ... what I mean is . . . I want you to know, I didn’t come here to say anything else ... I truly didn’t.” She folded her hands together in front of her and stared at them for a moment, then looked back up at him. “I know we agreed it’s best to stay to our own paths. But this is a small place, and I also know that everybody knows. About us. About us choosing not to be an us. And I feel like the whole town is waiting with bated breath for something to happen.” She smiled then. “You have no idea how much Blue Hollow Falls has in common with the village I grew up in. I’d forgotten just how deep into everyone’s pocket everyone could be.”

  “I know you were hoping for more privacy,” Seth said, unsure what else to say.

  “No, it’s not that. Surprisingly, it’s not. Actually, now that I’ve met so many people, I’m more at ease. They’re all so lovely, and so kind. It reminds me of home. People from my village will make Moira feel the exact same way. I know that, so I know I’ll be fine here.”

  “Good,” he said, meaning it. “I’m happy to hear that.” Which was true, but he felt oddly left out, knowing she was establishing an identity for herself in town, and he wasn’t going to be any part of that. He would have enjoyed seeing her discover his newly adopted town, enjoyed sharing her thoughts and reflections on how the place struck her, in comparison to how he’d come to love it. He’d have enjoyed watching her with people, and vice versa. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel remiss in watching out for her, even if she didn’t need him to.

  He couldn’t shake the look on her face that day beside the creek, the trust she’d put in him. Trust he knew damn well she didn’t just go handing out. And he’d turned away from her. “I’m sorry for making this more complicated than it has to be,” he said quietly. “That day, by the creek, you said some very kind things, about the friendship we’d begun. I couldn’t say it then.” Because I was still reeling to learn I wasn’t the only one falling. “But, I appreciate that, and I feel the same way.”

  She glanced up at him then, looking uncertain.

  “What I mean is, I’m here to support you, any way you need. If we need to talk ... like today, right now . . .” He lifted his hands, let them drop by his sides. “Then we should talk. I’m glad you’re happy here, glad to know this place is working its magic on you, in whatever way you need it to.”

  He watched as she took a steadying breath; then she nodded. “Thank you. That’s . . . a lovely thing to hear. I appreciate it.”

  She looked small, and vulnerable, and he was making things harder, when he’d been trying to do the opposite. He curled his fingers into his palms to keep from doing what he wanted to do, which was to say the hell with all this and reach for her. That wouldn’t help either one of them. So, he said what he had to say, not what he wanted to say. What he’d wanted to say since she’d walked away from him at the mill. Don’t leave. “I don’t want you to feel pressured by other people’s opinions,” he said, and winced when she let out a dry, humorless laugh. “At least you’re getting the supportive gestures. I’m the one getting all the lectures.”

  Her eyebrows lifted at that. “Are you now?”

  He frowned. “Are you getting them, too? Because I’ll make sure—”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” she told him. “People express themselves—it’s what they do. That they care about you and your happiness is abundantly clear and I know that’s at the core of all this, so it doesn’t bother me so much. It speaks well of you, and well of them, that you’re all looking out for one another.” She smiled briefly. “Even when you wish they wouldn’t.”

  He smiled back, and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she’d begun writing any music, if she’d found herself wanting to play up on that little stage at Sawyer’s place. He knew she hadn’t yet, or it would have been the talk of the Falls, but he wanted to ask about it anyway. She’d trusted him with her big revelation, and he felt he was letting her down by not following through. He wanted to tell her that when folks weren’t giving him the side-eye for not sweeping her into his arms and riding off into the sunset, they were gushing about what a lovely young woman she was, and how they couldn’t believe she was so down-to-earth, as normal as you please. Her surgery was common knowledge, even to the folks who hadn’t known who she was at first, and everyone understood she’d be ready to sing and play when she was ready. Though it didn’t keep them from urging him to urge her to give it a go.

  “I’d better get on with my errands, then,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “I’m glad we talked. I’ve felt ... not bad, but not good, either, about how we left things, by the creek. If that makes sense.” She paused, looked up at him. “Thank you for letting me know. About Mabry.” She pulled the set of truck keys from her pocket and offered him a smile. “See you around, Seth.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “see you around.” But she was already in the truck, starting the engine, then driving away. He supposed he should feel better now. They were on the same page. Even though the entire population of Blue Hollow Falls was seeing scattered rose petals and hearing wedding marches, he and Pippa could and would handle this. “Like the adults we are,” he grumbled, climbing into his own truck. He tried not to ask himself why, if things were so damn great now, he felt even more like absolute crap than he had before.

  Some of Mabry’s truth-telling played through his mind. Back in my day, when a man met a woman who turned his head sideways and his heart upside down, he didn’t go whining about how unfair life was. He went after her and the world be damned.

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t explain what happens when the world comes calling, demanding that life go on,” he m
uttered. “What then, Mabry?” He put the truck into gear, then barked out a laugh as he listened to himself. “Sure sounds like whining to me, Brogan.” So, what are you going to do about it?

  Chapter Eleven

  “Okay.” Bailey sighed, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a crumpled-up paper towel. She leaned back against the fortress of pillows she and Pippa had piled on the floor in front of the couch. “You’re right. Elliott is the perfect name.”

  They looked at each other, sniffled, each lifting a hand until the tips of their index fingers touched, and said, “‘E.T. phone home,’” then rolled their eyes and collapsed back on the pillows in a fit of giggles.

  “We’re so hopeless,” Bailey said. “I’m sorry Jake got sick and couldn’t come, but now I’m glad. He’d never let me live this down.”

  Pippa rolled her head to the side and looked at Bailey. “What, you think he’d have been unmoved? I think you’d have had equal ammunition. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Bailey turned her head and looked at Pippa. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” Then she grinned.

  Pippa rolled herself up to a sitting position, then leaned forward until she could reach the coffee table they’d pushed into the middle of the small space. She clicked a button on her laptop and made the screen go dark, then picked up the empty popcorn bowl. “I’m glad you liked it. I was six when my oldest brother let me watch it for the first time. He was babysitting us at the time. It terrified me. I had nightmares for weeks. My mum was so upset with him.”

  “Yeah, six might be a little rough.”

  Pippa sent her a worried glance. They’d talked about the movie beforehand, and Pippa had okayed it with Addie first, but still, perhaps she’d made the wrong call. It was hard to remember Bailey was only ten. “You were okay with it, though? I’d forgotten about the language. Sorry for that bit.”

  “I loved it,” Bailey said. “And it’s not like I haven’t heard those words before.” She smiled and put a palm over her chest. “I promise I won’t use them in public, or out you as being a terrible influence on a minor.” She finally nudged Pippa’s shoulder. “Stop worrying. I’d have told you to turn it off. I wouldn’t have tortured myself.”

  Pippa smiled, relieved, then laughed. “If only I’d taken that reasonable approach with Garrett.”

  “You were six,” Bailey reminded her.

  “I imagine you would have, at any age.”

  Bailey thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “Probably. Or left the room, more likely. But I’m a special case.”

  “A special girl, more like,” Pippa said, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, making Bailey roll her eyes. So, she kissed the girl’s cheek again, loudly this time. “A special girl who needs to learn that PDA between friends is a good thing, not icky.” Then she wrapped Bailey up in a hug, making her squeal, and they both fell over, with Pippa still hugging and Bailey grappling about until she could grab a pillow. Bailey swung first, which did make Pippa let go, but only so she could grab her own pillow. “I’ll have you know I have six brothers and sisters,” Pippa told her as they crawled around, swinging, ducking, and laughing so hard they were gasping. “I’m a pillow fight veteran.”

  “I was raised in foster care,” Bailey shot back, taking a wickedly aimed swing at Pippa’s clutched pillow and knocking it behind the couch. “Pretty sure I can hold my own.”

  Pippa raised her hands in mock surrender, and Bailey lowered her pillow, only to have Pippa grab it from her and swing, making Bailey’s eyes pop wide in surprise. Pippa merely shrugged, then grinned as she swung the pillow over her head like a lasso.

  “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Bailey said, grinning like a fiend and lunging for another pillow while simultaneously ducking Pippa’s swing. “Game on.”

  It was Bailey’s retaliatory fling that caught a very surprised Seth square in the face as he entered the cabin. He grabbed the pillow and kept it clutched in his fist. “I knocked,” he told them, “but it sounded like you were being attacked by banshees, so I thought I should come in and offer my assistance.”

  Breathless, Pippa wrapped her arms around her pillow and held it against her chest, and Bailey collapsed back on the piles of blankets that had been the basis of their pillow fort. “Banshees are the heralds of death,” Pippa told him, still gasping for air. “And the only thing dying here are these poor, poor pillows.” She swung hers at Bailey, who took the hit with arms open wide. Then both she and Pippa fell back into the pile in another round of giggles.

  “Draw?” Bailey said at length.

  Pippa just nodded, then squealed when Bailey lunged over and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on her cheek.

  Pippa finally looked back to Seth, who was a towering Viking inside her wee, wee cabin. It did all kinds of things to her insides, finally seeing him here, things she’d imagined in great detail, late at night, burrowed in her big bed, all alone, staring out into the night sky. The kinds of things she had no business thinking about with a child lying next to her. A very impressionable one at that.

  “Are you my Uber?” Bailey asked him, before Pippa could say anything.

  He nodded. “At your service.”

  “I thought Addie Pearl was coming to pick her up on her way home from the mill,” Pippa said, when she finally had her breathing, if not her hormones, back under control.

  “Addie’s weaving class ran long,” Seth explained. “She had a couple of students who had their class dates mixed up. Showed up on the wrong night, but they’d driven a long way, so she included them. That put her behind. Sawyer would have come, but he and Sunny are out having a date night in Turtle Springs. I was by the mill to talk to Will, and Addie pegged me since I was coming up this way to go home.” He looked at Bailey. “I’ve got to go by my place first; then I’ll take you on home. Addie should be there by then, but if not, I’ll hang out until she arrives.”

  “I could have taken her,” Pippa said. “Addie should have just called and let me know. It seems silly to have put you out.”

  “I’m not put out. Addie asked, and I said I’d be happy to do it.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”

  “What?” Pippa asked, as she turned to gather up the pillows and caught the satisfied smile on Bailey’s face.

  “Nothing,” Bailey said, suddenly the picture of innocence as she started to pick up the blankets. She put the heap on the couch, then collected their sodas and the empty popcorn bowl from the coffee table and carried them to the kitchen. “I’ll just be in the kitchen cleaning up. You adults talk amongst yourselves,” she added with a little bow, that same pleased smile back on her young face as she looked at the two of them.

  Pippa looked back at Seth. “Do you know what’s gotten into her?” she asked, truly curious. Then she spied the dawning look on Seth’s face. “What is it? What am I missing?”

  “She thinks Addie played us,” he said.

  “Played—” And then it became clear. “Oh,” she said. “I see. Do you think?”

  Seth nodded. “Fair bet.”

  “Not Addie Pearl, too,” Pippa said with a sigh.

  “Yes, Addie Pearl, too,” Bailey chimed in from the kitchen.

  Pippa and Seth both shot her a quelling look, but even though Bailey lifted her hands in surrender, the smile didn’t waver. She turned and continued washing the cups and the bowl, started whistling a little tune too, as Seth and Pippa turned back to each other.

  “Could I speak to you a moment?” Seth asked. “Outside? Away from adorable Eagle Ears over there?”

  “It’s fine by me,” Bailey said over the running water in the sink.

  Pippa smiled at that, even as she wondered what he was about. “Certainly.”

  Seth stepped outside onto the tiny front porch. Pippa followed, glancing over her shoulder at Bailey with a wry smile and wiggling eyebrows.

  Bailey just shot her a sudsy thumbs-up and continued with the housekeeping.

  “What’s up?” Pippa asked, as she moved out into th
e warm April evening, closing the door behind her. The unseasonably warm spring had continued unabated, but the temperature still cooled off fast at night, especially up here in the hills. Pippa wrapped her arms around her waist, thinking she should have grabbed one of the blankets.

  The porch was as wide as the cabin, meaning not wide at all, and not very deep. Seth took up the lion’s share of it, so Pippa sat down on the first step and turned to lean on the porch’s support beam. Seth walked down the three steps to the stone walkway, then sat down on the bottom step and leaned against the railing on the opposite side. “So, it’s not going away,” he said without preamble.

  “What? The town’s plan to see us get together?” Pippa waved a hand. “I’m getting used to it. Don’t let it get to you. They’ll figure it out in time.”

  It had been a little over a week since they’d spoken in front of the hospital. Spoken at all, actually. Another week of not going to the vineyard, which she’d known she would continue to miss, but she missed it more each day, not less. And not just because she missed Elliott or Dexter, both of whom were still housed there. Bailey had been firm about keeping the goats at the vineyard, more or less holding Elliott hostage, saying if Pippa wanted to see him, she should just tell Seth and make it happen.

  Pippa smiled, remembering the conversation. If only it were that simple.

  Pippa had spotted Seth here and there when she went down to the mill to meet with more of the artists, soak in the creative energy that fairly hummed inside that magical building, but they’d never even made eye contact, much less spoken. Then she’d all but bumped into him out at the magnificent old greenhouse that Sunny was still restoring, amidst the amazing work she was doing with endangered orchids. But they hadn’t spoken there, either. Pippa had spied Seth and Sawyer building shelves and tables in the rear of the place. She also hadn’t missed the speculation on Sunny’s face when she’d caught Pippa staring at Seth while he wasn’t looking.