“I have some very good news for you, Lenora.”
The doctor whisked into Lenora’s hospital room, steps as brisk as his voice was breezy. He’d become Mara’s favorite of all the medical personnel she was now on a first-name basis with, after two weeks of days spent visiting at Lenora’s bedside, accompanying her to physical therapy, slow walks up and down the corridor.
Mara sat on the ledge under the room’s lone window, sunlight heating her back, hope warming her soul. “She gets to go home?”
Dr. Nichols held both ends of the stethoscope curved around his neck. “You’re stealing my thunder, young lady.”
“Sorry, doc.” But oh, this is what they’d been waiting for. At first, they’d been told Lenora might be in the hospital for a month or more, but her progress in the past stretch of days had astounded everyone.
Lenora was sitting up in bed, her silver hair woven into a braid. Gone was the leash tethering her to an IV pole, the fog in her hazel eyes. There were still lingering effects of her stroke—the way one corner of her mouth tilted downward, the slowness of her speech, the need for a walker for the time being. But looking at her now, it was hard to believe she’d spent two whole months unconscious.
“But yes, Mara’s got it right,” Dr. Nichols said. “We’ll need to talk about in-home care and get your physical therapy and rehabilitation plan into place. But by this evening, you’ll be on your way home.”
Home.
The word felt like spring. Like the peace of a gentle rainfall and the bright joy of a sun-kissed, green landscape all at once. Home to the Everwood.
Where Marshall waited.
He’d stayed in Illinois long enough to see Mara through all the chaos in that first week. They’d both made statements to the police. Garrett had been taken into custody. Between law enforcement, pending charges, and parents who could no longer deny his issues, Garrett wouldn’t be crossing any more state lines.
As for Jim Morse, he was sitting in a jail cell on charges of attempted kidnapping as well as a slew of other criminal activities. And as expected, he had connections stemming back to Spinelli. From what they’d pieced together so far, he’d been keeping tabs on Davis for years. He’d eventually connected the dots and hoped they’d lead to the painting.
Just in case Morse wasn’t alone, an officer was stationed outside Lenora’s room at all hours. Another accompanied Mara back and forth between the hospital and the hotel.
So Marshall had returned to Iowa earlier this week, by way of a rental car since his truck had been totaled in the parking garage crash. Their first post-open house guests were due next weekend. Though Mara had considered canceling the reservations, Marshall had assured her he could get the place ready, even welcome guests and make breakfast if Mara wasn’t back in time.
“I’ll be the perfect host. Promise.”
“You’re the perfect superhero, that’s what you are, Marshall Hawkins.”
Though she’d said it with a playful grin, there’d been more sincerity in her words than she knew what to do with. He just kept doing it—showing up, providing exactly what she needed right when she needed it most.
He was the very definition of a hero. A rescuer.
She just wished he’d called more often in the past few days. Responded to her texts a little quicker. But surely he was just busy.
“. . . so we’ll schedule regular check-ups and monitor those things closely,” Dr. Nichols was saying now. “Nurse Mendell will get appointments set up before you’re discharged.”
Mara hopped down from her perch at the window. How much had she just missed out on? “We’ll be able to do those appointments and physical therapy at a hospital in Iowa, though, right? Ames is only about thirty minutes from Maple Valley and Des Moines is only an hour. I’ve already made some calls.”
Dr. Nichols glanced at Lenora. “Well, yes. Certainly we can connect with your doctor in Iowa. But I wasn’t aware that was the plan. I thought . . .”
Was he waiting for Lenora to jump in?
Lenora reached for the glass of water on her bedside table. She took a sip before her gaze sought out Mara. “We’ll talk when Dr. Nichols is finished, dear.”
“Actually, that’s all I have right now.” The doctor leaned down to pat Lenora’s hand. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re currently my favorite patient. I don’t use the word ‘miracle’ often, but I don’t think there’s any other term that fits your case.”
When he’d left the room, Mara lowered into the chair beside Lenora’s bed. She leaned over, grasping one of Lenora’s hands. “We’re going home.”
“Mara—”
“I can’t wait for you to see it, Lenora. The Everwood almost looks like a new house from the outside. I hope you’re okay with the blue door and matching shutters. If you’re not, blame Marshall, because it was his idea. The color is almost closer to purple than blue. Which I’ve tried telling Marsh, but he still insists it’s blue. And you should see the lobby. Marshall made us start there and he was so right. Now it’s light and airy and—”
“Mara, please.”
The firmness in Lenora’s tone finally cut through Mara’s exuberance. “Sorry, I’m just really excited.” To pack her bags and hit the road. To get back to Iowa.
To see Marshall.
A couple of phone calls, a few texts—they were no substitution for the man himself. She missed seeing him every day, working alongside him. She missed sharing breakfasts and going over renovation plans and all his teasing over her love of cereal and her tendency to go barefoot even on the coldest of days.
She missed finding those crazy porcelain dolls in so many crazy places.
She missed him.
Which was why she checked her phone a dozen times an hour for texts. Why she’d struggled to sleep last night when he’d never returned her evening call. Goodness, she might as well admit it—she was half in love with the man. Or maybe wholly.
Sunbeams washed the room in a warm glow. “Everything’s going to be okay now, Lenora. More than okay.” Of course, Dad still hadn’t answered her email. Maybe never would. But his absence from her life was nothing new. She wouldn’t let it derail the promising future unfolding before her.
Lenora sat up straighter, shifting against her pillows. “The thing is, I’ve had to make a hard decision.”
Mara unzipped the hoodie she wore over a simple blue tee, the same outfit she’d worn time and again in the past two weeks. She’d packed too hastily the night she and Marshall left Maple Valley, never anticipating she’d end up staying in Illinois this long. “A hard decision about what?”
“About the Everwood.”
A first barb of apprehension pricked her. She shrugged out of her hoodie. “Go on.”
Lenora’s hazel eyes were filled with compassion and concern. And regret. “I’ve decided to put up the Everwood for sale.”
Mara stilled in her chair as her hoodie dropped to the floor. Cool air skimmed her bare arms, disbelief unraveling inside her. “What?”
“I know it’s a surprise, dear—”
“A surprise?” Mara reeled from her chair, one foot snagging in her discarded hoodie. She kicked it free. “Surprises are supposed to be good things. Birthday parties. Unexpected gifts. But selling the Everwood?”
“This isn’t a decision I’ve made lightly. I’ve agonized over it for days now.”
“Yet you’ve let me talk about continued renovations and reservations and plans for the summer.” She moved away from Lenora’s bed, rubbing one hand over the opposite arm, willing her voice to steady and her mind to calm. “I thought you loved the Everwood.”
“Of course I do. But you have to understand, I can’t afford to keep it going.”
“We’ve already talked about this. I took care of those outstanding mortgage payments. We have deposits now from the rooms we’ve booked so far. It’s not a lot but it’s enough to pay the bills for the next few months at least. And business is going to pick up even more come summer. We—”
“But I have hospital expenses. I can’t let Davis, dear as he is, continue to pay for everything.” Lenora gripped the edges of her bed’s pale blue blanket. “Plus, I’d like to get to know Davis. He has children and grandchildren, Mara. I have cousins I’ve never met.” She took a long, slow breath.
Mara turned away before Lenora could see the prick of tears in her eyes. Lenora wasn’t only selling the house Mara loved. She was . . . leaving. Again.
Mara stared out the window, its paltry view no more than the beige and gray of the hospital’s cement walls, the parking garage, other buildings squeezed in. She finally croaked the question she didn’t want to ask, looking over her shoulder. “When? And is it okay if I stay until it’s sold? I’ll need to make some plans, update my resume—”
“Oh, dear girl, you don’t think . . . I’ve made a mess of this. Mara, I want to ask you to stay here with me.” Lenora attempted to scoot up against her wall of pillows. When she struggled, Mara hurried over to help her shift. “I should’ve led off with that. I’ll need some in-home care, you see. And eventually help finding a home here—an apartment maybe or a townhouse—though Davis says he has plenty of room until I’m ready.”
Mara sat down once more, idly reached for her hoodie, tried to make sense of Lenora’s offer. She should find it comforting. Touching, really. One moment she’d felt cast out at sea and the next Lenora had tossed her a float.
But her sinking emotions couldn’t find a firm grasp.
Marshall.
Of course her heart would tow her there. If she agreed to Lenora’s plan, what of Marshall and his . . . their . . . friendship . . . relationship? Or whatever it was. Whatever it could’ve been. They’d never even gone on that date.
Then again, for all she knew, Marshall might be readying to leave her too. Return to his life in Wisconsin.
“What do you think, Mara?”
Captain Wagner had shown up on the Everwood’s front doorstep more than an hour ago, and Marshall still couldn’t figure out why.
The man crouched as he climbed out of the fireplace after Marshall, his chuckles echoing off the stone interior. “Here I put you on administrative leave thinking you’d get some much-needed rest. Instead you take a road trip, remodel a house, and solve a mystery.”
Soot stains marred the captain’s shirt—starched and pressed as always, though the jeans and lack of tie gave him a considerably more low-key appearance than usual. Their venture into the secret room was the last stop on Marshall’s tour of the bed and breakfast.
“It was a team effort,” he said now.
“Which? The remodel or the mystery?”
“Both.” He brushed the ash from his hands over the fireplace grate. “Best we can figure, this room didn’t serve much purpose other than as a handy hiding spot for Jeane and Arnold. Davis—Jeane’s brother—told us his father’s house had a similar hidden room. He kept packed luggage stored there, complete with fake I.D.s, passports, whatever he needed to completely start over as someone new. Davis says Jeane probably took a cue from him.”
Captain Wagner reached for the can of Diet Coke he’d abandoned on an end table before checking out the hidden room. He dropped onto the couch. “But you don’t know why the couple fled the Everwood in the sixties?”
“Actually, we do now. We learned from Davis that while his father was searching for Jeane decades ago, Davis was conducting his own search. But he managed to do what his father didn’t—he found them. Showed up on the Everwood’s doorstep one night. Told his sister if he could locate her then their father wasn’t far behind.”
He plucked his own can of pop from the fireplace mantel and perched on the arm of the loveseat. “They said a final goodbye, and the next morning, Jeane and Arnold—who’d been living here as Sherrie and Kenneth—fled. Started over as Alice and Aric.” And Eleanor had become Lenora. “Great story, huh?”
“Yup.” Captain Wagner took a swig from his can, then rubbed his chin. “Though I’d like the ending better if you’d actually found the painting.”
“We know it was in the secret room at one point. Lenora remembers seeing it there as a kid, though she also recalls it hanging in the den previously. Davis said it would’ve been just like his sister to display it for all to see—an act of defiance against their father. Apparently Jeane was gutsy like that. But we’re guessing that when the buyer of the other canvas was murdered, they may have decided it wasn’t such a good idea to keep it out in the open.”
As for not finding the painting now, it wasn’t for lack of trying. Since Marshall had returned last week, he’d scoured the place from the cellar to the attic. If Arnold and Jeane had left The Crabapple Tree behind, they were better hiders than he was a seeker.
It was probably silly to think he’d have had any more luck finding the thing in a week than Lenora had in months of searching. But it sure would’ve been the perfect “welcome home” surprise for Mara.
Or perhaps something to make their parting sting a little less.
The thought knotted inside him. For days he’d tussled with the conviction that he couldn’t stay here. What he’d felt in the hospital when Mara had vanished—the kind of helplessness he’d hoped to never experience again—it was too much.
Too much emotion. Too much fear.
Too much . . . everything.
“I think I’ve lost you.”
Captain Wagner’s gravelly voice drew his attention and he slid from the arm of the loveseat onto the cushion. “Sorry. Just tired. Been pulling long days.” Mostly outside. He’d weeded the garden, trimmed hedges in the back, and planted flowers and bushes all along the new porch. Even though temps were mild, the sun had reddened his cheeks and nose.
He glanced out the den’s picture window. Sunlight spilled through the grove, dappling the lawn with light, and a chorus of birds chirped away. He wished he could find the right mood to match such a perfect spring day.
Especially with Captain Wagner so carefully watching him. “Captain, are you ever going to explain what you’re doing here?”
“Already told you. Alex keeps complaining that your sister keeps complaining that you don’t check in often enough. So I’m doing the checking-in myself. And consequently, saving you from one or both of them showing up here in that minivan of theirs.”
“That’s a long drive just to keep tabs on me. You could’ve called.”
Captain Wagner leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced around his can. “I’m getting the feeling you aren’t all that happy to see me.”
“Of course I’m happy to see you. Gives me a chance to apologize for the way I left your office that day.”
“I didn’t come here for an apology.”
“Still, I owe you one.”
“Actually, I think what you owe me is a ‘thank you.’”
“Say again?”
“You may be tired, Hawkins, but you look healthier than I’ve seen you in years. Don’t I deserve a little credit for pushing you into this? I don’t know if it’s the physical labor or the sun or both, but something in this Iowa air is doing you some good.” He took a measured pause. “Would I be right in thinking you’ve laid off the pills?”
Marshall’s gaze shot from the new rug on the floor to his captain’s face. “You, um . . . you knew about that?”
“I knew you came to work too often with your eyes glazed over.” He took a drink. “My first thought was alcohol, ‘til I saw you at your locker one day with a prescription bottle. Narcotics?”
Marshall set down his pop can, palms sweaty. He gave a stiff nod. “Some. But also sleeping aids. Sir, I’m really sorry. I get regular migraines, but still, I shouldn’t—”
“I have three daughters, Hawkins. If I lost one of them, I’d fall apart at the seams. Might not be pills for me but it’d be something.” He waited until Marshall looked him in the eye again. “Do you need help?”
Oh, that question could have all manner of layers. But at least he could honestly answer the one at the surface. He’d been dependent on the meds, yes, but not to the point of life-altering addiction. “I skirted a danger zone there. Beth cleaned me out before I left Milwaukee. Nothing since.”
“Any withdrawal?”
“I passed out a couple of times the first night, but other than that . . .” He shrugged. “Got lucky, I guess.”
“More likely, luck didn’t have a thing to do with it. You have plenty of praying people in your life, son.”
He slumped in his seat. “Yeah, well, I would’ve rather those prayers worked a little earlier. Before I had a reason to start . . .” He clamped his mouth closed. Captain Wagner didn’t deserve his ire.
“A reason to start self-destructing?” The older man’s tone was quiet, patient.
He thudded to his feet, moved to the fireplace and leaned on the mantel, head down. For once, there was no headache squeezing his thoughts. But there might as well have been. “I quit the pills, sir, but I don’t think I can quit the grief. I don’t think . . . it’s never going to go away.”
He didn’t hear his captain stand. Didn’t hear his steps. But he felt the warm hand on his shoulder, firm and gentle. “I can’t speak to your grief, but I can promise you that you’re not alone. You’ve got your family, you’ve got me, you’ve got friends on the force. If I’m not mistaken, you might have some friends here, too, correct?”
Marshall could only nod, the clogging in his throat too tight for words.
“You’ve tried pills, son, and that didn’t work. You’ve tried pushing us away, isolating. That didn’t work either.” Captain Wagner squeezed his shoulder. “So try something different this time. Try leaning into the love and support of the people in your life. If not those of us back in Wisconsin, then here—though your sister would probably kill me for suggesting it. But I’m not blind. You seemed completely at home showing me around this place. Far more at ease than you’ve been around the bullpen in the past two years.”
Marshall pushed away from the mantel, Captain Wagner’s hand dropping from his shoulder. “I can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
Because it wouldn’t be fair to Mara. It’d become so clear to him in this week away from her. He kept remembering back to what she’d told him about her parents. How her mom had never been able to get over her dad’s abandonment. Had been so engulfed in her own despair she’d stopped seeing her daughter.
Marshall had already done that to Penny. In some ways, he’d even done it to Laney in those final, desperate months.
He wouldn’t do it to Mara too.
Or maybe you’re just a coward. Too scared of getting too close. Because the thought of losing another person . . .
Like he could’ve lost Mara in that hospital parking garage.
“Maybe I should catch a ride back with you,” he said. Better than driving the rental all the way to Milwaukee.
“Not going to answer the question of why you can’t stay here?”
“Are you trying to tell me I no longer have a job?”
“Of course not. But you still have several weeks of leave left. I’m not letting you come back early, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Well, no, but—”
“Marshall!”
The call echoed through the house followed by the sound of the front door closing. Mara?
There hadn’t been enough money to insulate the flooring—which meant he could hear every one of her steps as she hurried through the house. She was at the den’s doorway in seconds. How had she known to look here first?
“Hey, Marsh.” She set a packed grocery sack down.
“Hey yourself.”
Her clothes were wrinkled from the drive and there was a slight frizz to her copper hair, but it was her tentative smile that held his gaze so long that he almost forgot—
“Oh, Captain Wagner.” The words tumbled out. “Uh, Mara this is my boss. Cap, this is Mara. She runs this place.” He glanced back at Mara in time to see a flicker of disquiet in her eyes. But she quickly blinked it away.
“Captain Wagner, nice to meet you.”
The captain shook her hand. “It’s only ‘Captain’ to my men in uniform. You can call me Eli.”
Marshall swallowed, too many thoughts and questions twisting at once. Why hadn’t she called or texted to let him know she was coming home today? Was Lenora with her? Why the groceries?
And did she have any idea what she did to him? He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her—forget Captain Wagner or the decision he was pretty sure he’d just made.
Instead, he jammed his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t realize you were coming home. Why didn’t—”
“We never went on that date, Marshall.”
Was that a snort from the captain? He felt the back of his neck heat. “What?”
“I came back so we could.”
“So we could go on a date.”
Another snort and now a slap on the back too. “You heard her, son.”
A gentle evening rain hadn’t been a part of Mara’s plan.
Yet its steady pattering against the metal roof of the train had a calming effect on Mara’s nerves. Or maybe that was the dim light of the lantern. Or the view outside the freight car’s open doors, the last sliver of subdued sunlight peeking over the horizon through thin rainclouds. Twilight fell lazily in shades of blue over the field that stretched in front of the Maple Valley Scenic Railway.
“I’m a police officer, Mara. I should be the last person committing a crime.”
Mara reached for the picnic basket sitting between her and Marshall on the blanket they’d spread over the train car’s floor. Her laughter bounced off the steel walls. “This isn’t a crime.”
Marshall propped his elbows on his crossed legs. “The depot’s closed. Technically, we’re trespassing.”
“Technically, we’re not doing anything that hundreds of Maple Valley teens don’t do every year.” According to Jenessa, anyway. She’d said it was practically a rite of passage for local kids to come out to the heritage railroad stationed at the edge of town at night, hang out in this empty boxcar.
“Look for the black freight car with the orange stripe down the middle. The door’s heavy but it’ll slide open.”
“We won’t get in trouble for it?”
“Nah, but if it makes you feel better, I can give Case Walker a call. He runs the depot. He has a soft spot like you wouldn’t believe, and frankly, it’d probably relieve him to know it’s adults sneaking into the boxcar this time instead of hormonal teenagers.”
Mara wouldn’t have thought of a boxcar as romantic, but the low glow of the lantern was enough to make out the hundreds of scraped markings all around its interior walls. Initials, names, hearts and plus signs.
That, along with the view, along with the handsome man sitting across from her—and now, along with the rain—made this night perfect.
Or at least as close to perfect as it could be before she knew how Marshall would react to what she was about to say. To ask him. Ever since talking to Lenora yesterday, since concocting this plan, she’d been rehearsing her words. Summoning the bravery to . . .
Well, to push open another door. Take a step through it.
Mara was grateful Lenora had understood. In fact, she’d been the one to urge Mara not to wait. To take her car that had been parked at Davis Saddler’s house for weeks and hit the road at the crack of dawn this morning.
But Lenora wasn’t here to prod Mara on now. Maybe it’d be better to wait until tomorrow to present her plan. Maybe they should just enjoy this date. Talk like normal people getting to know one another. She could ask him about his job—what had made him want to be a detective? What was his most interesting case? Maybe he’d even open up about Laney and—
“Mara? You going to open that picnic basket?”
She blinked. Laughed again. “That depends. Are you going to keep grumbling about how we’re committing a crime?”
Why did his smile seem so strained at the edges? “You call it grumbling. I call it responsible thinking.”
“I can’t believe the same man who didn’t give a single care as to whose property we went sledding on a few weeks ago is suddenly worried about trespassing.” On her knees, she started pulling items from the picnic basket. Chicken caesar wraps. Pasta salad. Fruit.
“No cereal?”
She met his eyes. Even in the faint light, she could see the tension hovering in his gaze despite his teasing. He’s just tired. He’s been working so hard.
Or perhaps his captain showing up earlier today had taken some kind of stressful toll on him. She’d gotten the feeling after the fact that they’d been in the middle of an intense conversation when she’d arrived.
Or maybe there was something else going on. She closed the picnic basket. “Marshall, can we talk for a sec before we eat?”
He let out a long, slow breath. “Actually, yeah. That’d be good.”
She lowered to the blanket, folding her legs like Marshall, her knees nearly brushing his. Just say what you came to say. “Lenora wants to sell the Everwood,” she blurted.
Marshall peered at her. “That’s . . . unexpected.”
“You’re telling me.” She smoothed out the blanket, moved her fingers through its tassels. “The thing is, I understand her reasons. I can’t blame her. Even if it does break my heart a little.”
To anyone else, her words might sound dramatic. But Marshall would understand. He’d witnessed firsthand her love not only for the house, but her place in it. He’d watched her pour her heart into reviving it. He knew her hopes for the future.
Some of them, anyway. He knew she’d hoped to stay and run the place longterm.
But did he know her hope had expanded to include him? If he didn’t, he was about to.
Because that was the other thing she’d come here tonight to tell him. Another door she wanted to walk through. No, run through. Take a giant, romantic leap and let him know how she felt.
Oh, how she prayed he felt the same. If Lenora was right, if God didn’t just see her but cared—deeply, intimately—about all the details of her life then surely He heard her heart’s hopeful desire. And He’d point Marshall’s heart in the same direction. Wouldn’t he?
“If Lenora sells, what are you going to do?”
“Lenora said I could stay with her. She’ll need some in-home assistance for a while.” No more stalling. “But what I really want to do is stay here. I want to buy the Everwood. I know it’s a little crazy since I don’t exactly have a pile of cash handy, but we figured out how to save the Everwood once. If we put our heads together—”
“We?” He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at his lap, at his tightly folded hands.
She closed her eyes just long enough to catch her breath and beckon whatever bravery she had left. “I was, um . . . I was hoping you’d stick around. We’ve made a really good team so far, haven’t we? We’d be perfect business partners. More than that, we’d be perfect—” She made the mistake of looking up.
And what she saw snatched the rest of her rehearsed words.
Marshall still wasn’t looking at her, but his palms had moved to his knees, knuckles as tight as the rest of him. Instead of leaning toward her as he had earlier, his spine was straight, his shoulders stiff.
Oh. Oh.
This wasn’t the look of a man who was ready to be on the receiving end of any kind of bold declaration of love or even just affection.
The same sickening feeling she’d had as a twelve-year-old, wearing that silly dress, sitting at the silly overly ornamented table, waiting for Dad to say he’d stay, finally realizing he never would—it staggered through her all over again, finding all her tender places.
She scrambled backward, slid the picnic basket back into place between them, mindlessly reached inside. “Sorry. It was nervy of me to think . . . to assume . . .”
“It wasn’t—”
“You have a whole life in Wisconsin and great career. Of course you don’t want to give that up to help run an old B&B.”
“Please don’t put words in my mouth, Mara.”
“But you’re leaving, aren’t you? It’s written all over you. I can see it now.” Please argue.
He didn’t argue.
She closed the basket. Stood.
“Mara—”
“It’s okay. I get it. But now it feels kind of weird to have this date. Let’s just go back and—”
“Believe me, I’ve thought about staying. For days, weeks now, I’ve been thinking about it.” His tone was agonizingly apologetic. The freight car rattled as he rose. “But I’m not the kind of person you need. As a business partner or as . . . anything else.”
“Why do you get to decide what I need?” She pulled on her spring jacket and tipped its hood over her head. “And who said anything about need anyway? I want you to stay. Because I care about you.” Maybe even love you.
And she’d thought he felt the same. She tried to zip her coat, but it snagged halfway up. With a huff, she snatched the picnic basket and hopped from the freight car. Marshall could grab the blanket.
“Mara, wait,” he called after her. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad.” She was embarrassed. Hurt. And, well, fine. She was mad. But not at him.
She was mad at herself. For letting her heart run away with her. For letting herself need something he apparently couldn’t give. Like she’d needed Dad. And Mom. Even Lenora, in a way.
Marshall caught up to her, his long strides slowing to match hers, the blanket draped over his arm. “I have some money.” He took the picnic basket from her hands. “Life insurance. I’ve never been able to bring myself to spend it. I can give it to you. You can use it for a down payment and—”
She halted, rain slicking over her hood and down her jacket, seeping through her canvas shoes. Gone was the last light of dusk. “I can’t accept your money.” Not if he didn’t come with it.
As if he’d heard that last part, he winced. “You have to know I care about you too. More than care. I . . . ” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “But that’s why I have to go. You deserve someone who isn’t broken on the inside.”
“We’re all a little broken on the inside, Marshall. But Lenora would say that God—”
“You don’t get it. I haven’t even told you . . . Look, remember the night I had that really bad migraine and fever and I snapped at you about not wanting any meds? It’s because for two years I survived on sleeping pills and painkillers. The reason I was on the road when I came here in the first place? Captain Wagner forced me into administrative leave because of how often I messed up on the job.”
She stared at him through the rain, her heart aching for him. For herself.
“I’ve been living in a bubble here, Mara.”
“Knowing those things doesn’t make me think less of you. It makes me want to help. Maybe if you open up more, if you talk about Laney—”
“I don’t want to talk about Laney.” He swiped moisture from his face.
She was out of arguments. Out of her last reserves of emotional strength. “Then let’s just get out of the rain and go back.” She strode toward Lenora’s car without looking to see if he followed. She dropped behind the steering wheel, closed the door harder than she meant to.
Stared ahead at Marshall’s still form. Standing in the same spot she’d left him. Getting soaked. And hurting. Oh, he was hurting. Never mind the rain and the dark. She could see his pain so clearly.
But she was hurting too. And there was nothing she could say to comfort him. Nothing she could do to help him see himself the way she did. Maybe that wasn’t her job anyway. Perhaps the best thing she could do was let him say the goodbye he meant to.
And later, when he was gone, when the FOR SALE sign went up in the Everwood’s yard, when she was alone, she could let her sorrow free.
The vibration of her phone cut into her anguished silence. She yanked it from her pocket, answered without even looking at the screen. And froze at the voice on the other end.
“Hi, Mara. It’s Dad.”