I had thought I could just go back home whenever I wanted. I’d thought everyone was overreacting.
But someone had broken into my apartment. What if I’d been home?
I’d been pushing away that particular thought since it happened. The police said they’d secured the door, but that hadn’t stopped the guy before. Morgan had my extra key and had promised to swing by and see how bad things really were.
But the thought of going back now . . . I didn’t know how I felt about it. I missed my life. But my old life had vanished in the span of a few months. I’d done the right thing, and now I was being punished for it.
Mason was already gone when I woke at four fifteen, and I suspected I knew why. As I collected eggs and tended some of the plants in Mason’s greenhouse, Rascal trotting along faithfully by my side, my mind went back to the night before over and over again. When I closed my eyes, I could still evoke the sensation of Mason’s arms around me, his hard muscular chest like a warm wall against my cheek, that scent of pine and coffee infusing my senses. I realized, as I thought back on those few moments when I’d awoken to him holding me, that it was the safest I’d felt in months. Maybe years.
But as soon as I settled into the comfort of that feeling, another part of my brain raged a battle cry and rejected the idea that I needed any of it. I wasn’t a damsel in distress. I didn’t need saving. And I was tired of my brother and everyone around me believing anything different.
My mind went back and forth all day while Mason was at work, and by the time I heard a car pulling up out front—earlier than his shift was supposed to be ending—I was desperate for some kind of distraction.
It wasn’t Mason who came up the steps to the door though. It was a woman. She knocked firmly on the door and smiled at me brightly when I opened it.
“Hi,” she said, her wide smile setting me at ease immediately. “I’m Amelia, Mason’s sister.”
“Hi, I’m Heather Brigham,” I returned, surprisingly happy for the company. “Come on in. It’s nice to meet you.” I pulled the door wide for her to step inside and silently marveled at the vast differences between Mason and his sister. She had dark shoulder-length hair and the same dark eyes Mason had, but her nose was scattered with freckles that made her look very young, where Mason sometimes looked much older than he could possibly be. Her face was unlined and rosy, and her smile stayed fixed in place, even as she stepped in and set her bag down on the couch. “Hey, Rascal dog,” she said, kneeling to pet the dog’s furry head and sink her hands in to rub the ruff around his neck.
“So,” she said, standing to face me with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Let’s grab one of my brother’s beers and get to know each other. Mason told me you’re going to be helping out on the farm.”
I didn’t feel like I’d been much help yet. I didn’t argue, though, and handed her a glass of the beer I was coming to love as we moved out to the back porch where Mason and I had sat before. It was a little bit awkward, but Amelia had a way about her that told me it wouldn’t last long.
“Mason told me you’re a teacher,” I tried.
Her face lit up. “I am,” she said. “Third grade at Colebury Elementary.” She practically glowed as she named the school.
“You seem to like it.”
“Understatement. Yeah. Something about just getting to be with all those little minds, those little souls before they’re jaded and loaded down with dogma and the media and whatever their parents believe. They’re just like sponges, you know?”
I nodded. I remembered that feeling, that sense of wonder that kids could make you feel because they felt it.
“That’s awesome,” I told her. “I have a certificate too. I started out in a classroom in DC, but I had an opportunity to go work for a firm that was lobbying for education reform and I wanted to see if I could do more, work at the heart of the problems.”
She nodded. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel so powerless when I see things happening, when I feel like the system isn’t working for some kids.”
“Exactly.”
“So . . .” She glanced at me. “How come you’re here?”
I laughed. “I guess I did kind of come out of nowhere, didn’t I?”
She nodded, eyes widening.
For some reason, I felt comfortable with Mason’s sister, and I let it all come flying out. I told her about the trial, about the threats, and about my brother. “So I’m out here because he swooped in to save me again, I guess.”
“Again? Do you get saved a lot?” The question was asked lightly, jokingly, but it still struck a nerve.
“Unfortunately, yes. It’s like a theme in my life, but one I’m trying to end.”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed and leaned back in the sturdy wood chair. I realized that even if this wasn’t my favorite topic, it was nice to have someone to talk to, and I liked Amelia a lot. “My dad pulled me out of a swimming pool when I was a little girl. Kevin and I were in the back of a friend’s house while my parents socialized inside, and I fell into the pool. I was four, and I wasn’t a great swimmer. I tried to get out, and Kevin tried to help. By the time he ran inside to get my dad, I wasn’t conscious.”
“Oh my god,” Amelia breathed.
“So he basically brought me back from the brink. Kevin’s been saving me over and over since then, even when I don’t need him to. He kept me from getting hurt a million times as a kid, he beat up a guy I was pretty sure was about to rape me at a party in high school. I think he went into the Marine Corps because he had this idea that he could save more people, be the hero.”
“Mason saved me once,” Amelia said quietly.
I stared at her, not wanting to push her to say more than she was comfortable telling me.
She shook her head as if to clear it, taking another sip of her beer and leaning back in her chair. “So how long are you here?”
I shrugged. “Indefinitely, for now. Until it’s safe to go home.”
She looked at me sideways, and I realized that was completely vague. “So,” she said slowly, a smile lifting one side of her mouth. “You can stay here, seduce my brother, and we can hang out.”
I sputtered, nearly choking on the swallow of beer I’d just taken. “I don’t think so,” I told her. “I’m not in the market. At all.” Men, as far as I could see, didn’t tend to stick around. Maybe I was a little like Mason that way—I didn’t want to get involved with someone who would probably just disappoint me or hurt me. My dad had broken my mother’s heart, leaving her for another woman. And I’d been close enough to the senator to know that his scandal affected his wife and kids at least as much as it hurt him. I knew not all men were bad, but I hadn’t met any I felt I’d be willing to trust. Not with my heart, at least.
“Well, maybe that will change.”
We heard the door of Mason’s truck slam shut, and Rascal, who’d been stalking through the yard, raced around to the front of the little house. A few minutes later, Mason stepped out onto the back deck.
“I see you’ve met,” he said, his voice flat.
“We have, and Heather is delightful,” Amelia declared, standing to face her brother. “You should not have kept her to yourself all this time.”
He gave his sister an exasperated look, and then his gaze found mine. “How was your day?” His voice softened a bit, and I felt something inside me respond to the caring tone.
“Yeah, good,” I said, getting to my feet.
“You staying for dinner then?” he asked his sister.
She looked at me. “In Mason-speak, that’s a very cordial invitation.”
We grilled some pork chops, and Amelia and I made a white bean and tomato salad with red onions and fresh oregano, and the three of us ate together. It was easy and comfortable, the closest thing to a family dinner I’d had in years.
“What are you doing this week?” Amelia asked as she was saying her goodbyes after the dishes had been rinsed and put away.
“My plans are pretty loose,” I said, reminded suddenly that I didn’t really belong here.
“Good. Let’s have lunch in town. I’ll show you around. Thursday okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling excited at the thought of having plans, of finally seeing the town where I’d be staying a while. “That’d be great.”
Amelia frowned, glancing around the driveway as we walked her out. “Do you even have a car? How do you get around?”
I laughed. “I don’t.”
She shot a look at her brother. “Mason. You don’t get a girlfriend by holding a woman prisoner.”
He didn’t respond, other than to huff out a breath.
“Uncle Billy has like three extra cars just sitting there. Why didn’t you loan her one of those?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t—“
“Of course you can,” Amelia said. “Mason will take you over to get a car tomorrow. Won’t you?” She poked Mason in the chest, and I watched him soften slightly as he looked down at his little sister.
“I honestly didn’t even think about it,” he said.
“Or you were trying to hold her captive until she fell in love with you,” Amelia joked.
“Definitely not,” he said, in a way that was almost too painfully clear.
As Amelia drove away, I pushed down the strange disappointment I felt at the knowledge that Mason definitely did not see me in any kind of romantic light. Not that I’d actually wanted him to, I told myself. And not that I was looking for anything anyway. My life was a disaster. The last thing I needed was a hot, grumpy farmer to turn my head upside down and then leave.
I went to bed early, intending to spend the next day at the farm. Billy had promised to teach me to make goat cheese, and I was oddly excited at the prospect.