STANDING OUTSIDE ON the sidewalk and staring in the window of Sweetwater Souvenir was a new experience, but the dread in the pit of his stomach was familiar. He’d experienced it in December, when he’d followed Ash and Winter Kingfisher all the way back to the Otter Lake ranger-station open house. He’d wanted to be there to watch Winter win the battle over the location for the lodge in front of the town of Sweetwater.
At the time, he hadn’t noticed any of the changes he now spotted in the town.
Probably because his mind was locked in on Winter Kingfisher.
She’d convinced him to take the brunt of the report being made public, ended her engagement and her employment at the reserve in one day, and done it with power and passion, with one fierce shove.
For the first time he wondered what might have happened if she’d taken her win less publicly.
Would she and Whit have worked out their issues for the good of…whatever it was between them? Whether the answer was yes or no, there was the possibility she’d still have her job. No one could represent the reserve better than Winter Kingfisher.
That public showdown with the Callaways had accomplished one big thing: Winter had become a hero in her hometown.
He could see the admiration on the faces of everyone inside the new gallery.
Even kindly small-town people who depended on the reserve for their jobs took it personally when the rich jerk had pushed his way through, hurt one of their own. And the cold shoulders they could give to outsiders were the coldest. He should know. He could count on one hand the number of neighbors he’d managed to win over in his time in Sweetwater. Odella. Janet Abernathy. It was a short list.
But here he was, about to wade into the waters.
Because Winter had asked him to.
Caleb shoved his hands in his jeans and wondered if he should have changed clothes. Again.
He had dropped the jeans he’d worn to the construction site in the dirty clothes hamper Janet had disguised inside the upscale bathroom on his way to the shower. These jeans were black.
“Dress jeans,” Caleb muttered. He should walk back to his SUV and pull out the trusty silk tie. Then, through the window, he caught sight of Ash Kingfisher. He was bent low to hear whatever it was Odella was saying. That was a conversation he could walk up to and expect a reasonable, lukewarm welcome, anyway.
Odella didn’t do anything she didn’t want to. If he had nothing clever to contribute, she’d leave him standing alone in the center of a crowd.
But if anyone should greet him warmly, it would be the guy whose job he’d saved.
Except he was half a second from kissing the guy’s sister.
Again.
No, you aren’t. Seriously bad idea. Forget the hike and the dinner and the way she shines when she’s talking about anything she loves.
“And stop staring in the window like the kid who didn’t get an invitation to the party. You got invited.” Caleb put his hand on the door and shoved it open. The familiar bells rang and a petite blonde he hadn’t been introduced to popped her head above the counter. She disappeared again before he could figure out whether to acknowledge her hiding place.
“Callaway, haven’t seen you in some time.” Ash Kingfisher held out his hand, since Odella had moved on. Ash passed a cup of something punch-like, Caleb took it and lifted it to his dry mouth gratefully.
The grimace must have given his feelings away. “Yeah, it’s been what? Three hours?”
“Be careful, that stuff is sweet. That’s how you know Winter was in charge of the punch.” Ash shook his head. “Can’t explain it, but she’ll put in twice the sugar and half the salt of any recipe she attempts. What I’m saying is, don’t eat dinner at Winter’s house.”
Since it was easy to imagine laughing over a takeout pizza, Caleb nodded and gave a strangled laugh. Between his brother and hers, he’d be better off hiding behind the counter with the blonde.
“I promised Winter I’d stop by and view some artwork. With my checkbook. Here I am.” Caleb closed his eyes and wondered if he sounded as out of it as he felt. It was a reasonable explanation.
If only Ash had asked for an explanation.
Ash Kingfisher’s confused frown made perfect sense. “Uh-huh. I’m not sure I remember that.”
Right. Caleb cleared his throat. “Glad you could stop by the site this morning. I’m pleased with the progress.”
Ash nodded. “Me, too, and that you cleaned up the trash that was building last week.”
“Sure.” Caleb gritted his teeth. The suggestion that he’d let something go he shouldn’t have rankled him. “I like sites to be neat.”
“Sure.” Ash stared over the crowd. Caleb wondered if they were done with the conversation. Since Ash Kingfisher was the quiet type, he wouldn’t do much heavy lifting with small talk. Still, it was better to stand next to him to look like he had a friend. How sad.
“But in a place like this, we can’t have that trash blowing away.” Ash turned to him. “We’ve got conservation efforts going on down at the lake, up at The Aerie. That plastic blows into the water, and the otters get ahold of it, and we have a problem.” Ash nodded. “See?”
He did. And he appreciated the clarification. “Got it. We’re here to protect the land. Better, more consistent refuse cleanup will be in effect, Ranger Kingfisher.”
The muscle in Ash’s jaw clenched. “Might as well call me Ash, Callaway. I have a gut feeling this isn’t going to be short-term relationship.”
“Fine. Then I’m Caleb.” What did Ash mean? Was he brave enough to ask?
“Want to know how many people, man or woman, my sister has invited over to be subjected to dinner at my parents’? Just two. Whit, which was never a success. Not with my mother, anyway.” Ash held up one finger. “And you. Don’t know what that means yet, but I know what it meant when I did it.” Their eyes met for a split second before Ash returned to staring into the gallery and Caleb glanced back at the cash register, where the blonde was pacing.
His experience at the Kingfisher house had been fun, but apparently it was rare. The Kingfishers were hard to impress, but Winter had invited him in. Ash’s one invitation had to be Macy, since she was glued to his side now.
But Winter had done it as an efficient way to get their plan for a media day underway, nothing more. Right? Caleb wasn’t convinced, but the pleasure he felt at being one of the few in the Kingfisher inner circle made him smile.
“You see who Winter’s talking to?” Ash pointed with his cup. “Bailey Garcia. Your brother would have elbowed his way up to the front of the room to make sure he got in some camera time.” Ash’s eyes were assessing when he turned back to Caleb. “What are you going to do?”
Good question. What was he going to do? From where he stood, he couldn’t hear anything of what Winter was saying, but she’d given him her promise. The way she was motioning at a truly spectacular painting behind them convinced him that she was doing her best to sell the artist, the work and the gallery.
Had she taken her notoriety and intended to use it for the gallery’s publicity?
Of course she had. She was that clever.
That didn’t mean she was also using her time to trash the Callaway family.
“If Winter asks me for something, I’ll do my best to make it happen. Simple as that.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say. He was ready to be rescued. Caleb checked on the blonde again. She’d rounded the counter, but both hands were tightly clasped under her chin. Was she praying? “Winter and I know where we stand.”
“And where is that?” Ash drawled. “You don’t act like a man who is passing through town, not around my sister. A normal guy, presented with the potential to show up at the family dinner or attend a new business opening in a place he’s only visiting, would probably make some excuses. But here you are.”
“We’re…” Caleb sighed. Wouldn’t he like to know the answer to that himself? Telling her brother that she was the first woman in a long time to make him stutter and sweat seemed like a bad idea. He refused to even think about the kiss, just in case Ash Kingfisher had any psychic ability. He and the Kingfishers were getting along. He had a feeling that might change if they knew, rather than suspected, that he and Winter had turned a weird corner into…something. “Business colleagues.”
“Business. Colleagues.” Ash didn’t believe him. It wasn’t a great answer. There was no hint of satisfaction or relaxation in the man’s face, but Caleb figured Ash wasn’t willing to escalate the conversation in the middle of the party. When Macy stepped away and crooked her finger at Ash Kingfisher, he didn’t even hesitate but sliced through the crowd. Whatever her question was, Ash pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.
“That’s about me,” the blonde said and vibrated with nervous energy. “This is when I miss alcohol the most. When I needed to be brave, it never let me down.”
“Want me to get you out of here?” Caleb wasn’t sure who she was or what her story might be, but terror was easy to read on her face. “I’m Caleb Callaway. We weren’t introduced the first time we met.”
“I wasn’t sure you even saw me. Your eyes were locked on Winter. Your business colleague.” Her dry tone was impossible to ignore. She managed to look up in his face. “I know who you are. We all know who you are.” She offered him her hand and watched closely to see what he would do. “Leanne Hendrix, one of the few people in town who knows how rough it can be when people can identify you but aren’t sure whether they like you or not.”
Caleb shook her hand carefully, afraid too much pressure might shatter her in a million pieces, and said, “The artist. Right?”
Her eyebrows shot up and her expression transformed from terror to confusion and stayed stuck there. What had he said?
Then she nodded slowly. “The artist. That’s my painting.”
She moved forward one step. “I’m proud of it, and I haven’t had a lot of things to say that about. My kids. That’s it. But I do love that painting.”
“You should. It’s amazing. You’re talented.” He watched her straighten. Caleb realized everyone in the crowd had craned their necks to check out the back of the room. Where he was standing. Talking to the artist. “You’re on. I heard you’re going to be interviewed. Are you ready?”
She gulped. “No.” Then she straightened her shoulders and marched to join Winter in front of the camera.
From his spot on the edge of the crowd, he watched as Winter seamlessly transitioned whatever she had been saying to an introduction of Leanne Hendrix and wondered how she’d developed that skill. It was part of what made her so good at her job—the ability to roll with new developments. He admired it.
“So, Winter tells me you’re about to make us an offer we can’t refuse. Got your painting picked out yet? The big one, the one she’s standing in front of, sure would be pretty over your fireplace,” Janet Abernathy whispered from her spot next to him. When she’d landed there, he had no idea. “That Winter, she’s magnetic. Can’t take your eyes off her, can you?”
Was she asking in a general way or him specifically?
“You ever meet her parents? Dad’s an artist. You’re going to want some of his baskets, too. Let me introduce you.”
Before Caleb could confess he knew Winter’s parents, Janet was towing him across the room by one sleeve pinched between bright red fingernails.
But at least he wasn’t standing alone anymore.
And no one in the crowd was glaring at him.
This would be fine, after all.
* * *
“LEANNE IS A lifelong Sweetwater resident, but she’s only recently discovered her natural talent for capturing the beauty of the mountains here.” Winter gave her favorite polished smile. “Anyone who spends the day on Otter Lake or the trails of the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve will need to stop by Sweetwater Souvenir and Art to find the perfect keepsake to remind them of the day.”
Bailey Garcia’s expression had transitioned quickly from confusion to irritation to…cold displeasure. At some point, she’d realized that Winter had agreed to the interview she’d been requesting for weeks for her own reasons, but Winter had never promised to answer the questions Bailey wanted to ask. That was a PR tactic she’d picked up in the early days at her first job out of college. Working for an electric company had never been a dream, but in terms of controlling bad press, it had been a graduate course in public relations.
“On that note, I’ll send it back to you in the studio, Harry.” Bailey paused for a long moment while Winter braced herself. As soon as she could, Bailey thrust the microphone she was holding to her producer and turned on Winter. “What was that, Winter? We had a professional relationship here. Pulling a bait and switch like that? It’s the easiest way to build a bad name for yourself.” Bailey crossed her arms over her chest, as if she was prepared to wait for an answer.
Leanne’s arm brushed Winter’s and she was reminded that the world around them hadn’t stopped. She patted Leanne’s back. “You did so well. Enjoy the party. That has to be easier than having a camera pointed at you.” Since she hadn’t seen Leanne speaking to any single person all night long, she had her doubts that it was, but she didn’t need to be involved in this argument, either. When she saw Caleb’s head over the crowd, she relaxed. He would help. A second before she waved to get his attention, he turned toward her.
As if he knew exactly where she was in the room and even that she needed him. Why did that send a warm shot of emotion through her?
It was nice not to be standing alone in front of the crowd, even if Caleb was halfway across the gallery. If she called him, he’d be there for her.
His dark eyes were assessing and then he nodded. When he was halfway through the crowd, Leanne surprised her. “I’ll go talk to Caleb. I’ll be fine.”
She watched until Leanne met him in the crowd.
Then she realized who he’d been talking to: her parents.
Oh, boy.
“Is that Caleb Callaway over there with Ash?” Bailey Garcia asked, her voice a slow drawl that did not match the new alertness in her expression. It reminded Winter of how a napping bear might perk up and sound about half a second before it ate your face for having disturbed its winter hibernation. “And Macy Gentry, I see. Are those your parents?”
What did that matter? It was a small town. He had to run into all of them in a crowd this size. Deflect the attention. Change the story.
“He’s staying in Sweetwater while he oversees construction on the lodge.” Winter moved both hands behind her back. She was about to start gesturing. Almost everyone who addressed the media had a tell—something that betrayed nerves. Her hands were her weakness. She would start pointing and motioning dramatically in order to convince Bailey that everything was exactly as she said. “But you already knew that.” Of course she did. She’d interrupted work at the site. “How about this? I’ll give you a recorded interview. We can talk about the lodge project. It’s moving quickly.” And she would sing Callaway praises.
“Are you also prepared to tell me why Caleb Callaway is doing your bidding? You were asking for his help, right? Across the room?” Bailey stared over the crowd at Caleb. “And he responded almost like a boyfriend might. Are you two dating?” Breathless excitement was the worst setting on a news reporter.
“Of course not. My history with the Callaway family is…rocky enough.” This was where it got tricky. Caleb had asked her to speak well of Whit. What he didn’t understand was that Bailey would keep coming until she discovered something else to dramatize.
“Caleb and I have discussed the lodge several times. He is here tonight because I suggested a visit to see more of what Sweetwater has to offer. This town owes a lot to the Callaways, so it’s good to have a strong relationship with everyone in the family. This gallery is a huge new opportunity for this town and the area. I believe that he, in particular, and the other Callaways in general are recommitted to the protection of the land and history of the reserve. I’ll be happy to say that again on camera. That’s a great sound bite.”
“Sure, because everyone loves it when a juicy feud ends with adult behavior and calm consideration.” Bailey sniffed. They both knew that wouldn’t entice viewers to tune in.
A story about Winter Kingfisher switching Callaway brothers? Ratings bonanza.
“Well, that’s the story we have.” Winter tangled her fingers together into a tight knot. When Bailey’s eyes dropped to her hands, Winter had the sinking feeling that this reporter had done a close enough study to know her weaknesses.
Meeting Bailey’s suspicious stare wasn’t easy, but this was the part where training paid off. Any second, she’d get frustrated and leave.
“You don’t mind if I hang around. We’ll get a few crowd shots to show in the package that we put online.” Bailey smiled slowly.
Almost as if she knew Winter was counting the seconds until she left.
“Please do. Have some punch. I made it myself.” Winter did her best spokesmodel hand wave toward the refreshment table. “And when you’re ready to buy some of Sweetwater’s finest art, let me know. I’m working on commission here.” Her hearty laugh was fake, fake, fake. And everyone had to know it, but she needed a few minutes to catch her breath.
Then she’d have to rescue Caleb from her father’s enthusiasm and warn him to be careful around the reporter. The Callaways wanted to squash the news. A hint of something between the two of them would pour gas on the flames and build a fire it would take years to put out.
Determined to pretend that everything was fine, Winter worked the room on her way over to the display she and Leanne had built of her father’s baskets. While she wouldn’t call the firefighting group of park rangers close friends, it was nice to see several of them and their significant others, as well as the law-enforcement rangers scattered throughout the room. Christina and Brett Hendrix were bundled together in one of the quieter corners of the room. Were they talking? Winter studied them more closely. It seemed they were only staring at each other and happy to do so.
Reminded of Christina’s teasing at their first girls’ night out, Winter considered barging in between them. Getting even would be fun.
Sadly, she decided to do her duty and went to join her parents.
“If you’re of a mind to offer classes, you know, fun activities at the lodge, birdwatching or nature photography, I’d be happy to throw my name into the ring for consideration. I know my way around the park.” Martin Kingfisher shoved his hands nonchalantly in the pockets of his dress slacks. “Or there’s always my basket-weaving class. It’s calming. Therapeutic. I could include history, tell stories about my mother and hers. My grandmother made her own dyes, but I haven’t gotten the hang of it. The trick seems to be—”
“What’s the completion date for the lodge?” her mother interjected as she wrapped her hand around her husband’s arm. Her teasing look and his chastened-but-amused one were so familiar, but it was sweet to be reminded that, in a world where things fell apart easily and often, her parents had been solid for forty years. One short sweet wedding in front of Yanu Falls was all it had taken. Her dad talked too much. Her mother loved him for it but did her best to be sure others loved him, too. “Why didn’t we talk about this over tacos? We must have been preoccupied with other matters.”
Winter quickly checked to see who might be close enough to hear, but the news crew was close to the door.
“No later than July first. The Callaways are planning a big Independence Day picnic to celebrate the grand opening.” Caleb met Winter’s stare. He didn’t smile, but something about his expression reminded her of the way her father looked at her mother.
Like they might be able to guess what the other was thinking if they spent forty years exchanging similar glances.
“No fireworks.” Ash shook his head slowly, his lips a tight line. “Fire hazard.”
That wouldn’t go over well with the Callaways, who always went with bigger, better and louder for their party aesthetic.
Whatever his first answer was, Caleb changed his mind and held up both hands in surrender. “Nothing goes forward without the okay of the head ranger. Speeches and tours, food of some kind. My mother is in charge of the party. I’ll tell my father to cross off anything requiring lit matches.”
“Indeed, and since construction is notorious for overruns of money and time, you might tell ’em to be considering a Labor Day celebration. Thanksgiving.” The twinkle in her mother’s eyes convinced Winter to stand down. She’d been prepared to argue on Caleb’s behalf. He was working hard to meet the schedule. The evidence was there in the fatigue around his eyes.
Callaways never had been ones to dodge difficult jobs, even if her mother didn’t quite approve of the rest of the family’s ideals.
“I have my orders, Mrs. Kingfisher. Whit Callaway, Sr., will have my butt if I allow this project to run long.” Caleb shifted back. “It got off to a slow start. That’s why I’m here. My stepfather wanted someone committed to meeting the timeline and goals of the project here in town.”
Her mother softened. “I get that. Some things are so important we only trust the people we really care about to handle them. The stuff that matters requires the best of the best. Your stepfather must have a lot of faith in you. We know this lodge matters. At least enough to go to political war over.”
Caleb frowned as he listened. It was too bad they hadn’t spent more time with nonverbal communication. Winter wanted to know what that frown meant.
“Caleb’s been busy sourcing local, sustainable, green products, Mama. That’s what he did with his company. This is going to be a lodge that Sweetwater can be proud of.” Winter wasn’t sure why she said it, except that she remembered other occasions when she was the only Kingfisher in a crowd of Callaways. Caleb, when he’d managed to show up, had been an ally.
He’d also sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her at her mother’s picnic table, ready to defend her if the heat got to be too much. Winter battled the desire to slip her hand into his. In this crowd, such a gesture would send a whispered report around in an instant, alerting everyone, even her family, to the…whatever it was between them. Instead, Winter knotted her hands together tightly at her waist.
“Funny how sons in the same family can be so different.” Her mother pursed her lips. “Man who wears those boots to an art gallery is showing people who he is, I guess. I appreciate that, almost as much as you clearing out my leftovers, Caleb.”
Caleb squared off face-to-face with her mother. “Thank you. Whit has made some mistakes. I have, too. He’s got a good heart. He’ll do the right thing.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed and she nodded. “Fine. I accept that. Good people make bad decisions. Handling the consequences, though, that’s where the real story lies.”
Caleb’s eyes met Winter’s. He’d saved her from some consequences. Was he reminding her of that?
“Well, now that the serious portion of our evening is over, Martin, why don’t you tell us how you create these baskets? Everybody, hit up the refreshments table. This is supposed to be a party. If the cops don’t roll up with noise complaints soon, I’ll know it’s a pure failure.” Janet Abernathy clapped her hands, and the frozen crowd resumed mingling.
Winter saw the news crew gathered around the door and realized they’d had more of an audience than she expected. Getting Bailey Garcia’s agreement not to run any footage of that conversation would be next to impossible, but she should give it a try. Nothing terrible had been said about either Kingfishers or Callaways, but all the heat would come down on Caleb.
And the whole night had been a reminder that he was dealing with fallout that he shouldn’t have to.
He was doing it for her.
Winter tugged his sleeve, gratified when he instantly turned toward her. “Come help me with something in the storage room.” She motioned with her head before turning, certain he’d follow.
Before they cleared the crowd, Bailey Garcia cupped her hands over her mouth. “Caleb, have you got a second? I’d love to get a quote.” The crowd silently parted and the red light on the camera glowed. Winter had the urge to stop this. Unplanned interviews always went terribly wrong, but Caleb was smart.
“Here you are again, Ms. Garcia, telling Sweetwater’s stories.” Caleb’s grin was handsome and slow, and it would convince any woman it was special and only for her. “I don’t see any purchases. Surely you can’t leave without making at least one.” He covered his heart with his hand. “There’s real talent here.”
Bailey Garcia held out a microphone. “Mr. Callaway, I’m surprised to find you out and about in the town of Sweetwater. I’ve heard from some of your cronies you weren’t too happy about this assignment.”
“If that’s true, I’d guess you heard it from someone I haven’t talked to in a while. All work and no play makes a man say dumb things. What’s not to love about this place? All I needed was a minute to appreciate it. Every visitor to the new lodge will find the same peace I have. This is important work and I’m happy to do it.”
Winter believed he meant every word. If he was lying, he was doing it very well.
The reporter raised her eyebrows. “So the Callaways and Kingfishers seem…close.”
This was the whole thrust of her questioning. Before Winter could step in to deflect, Caleb drawled, “Well, we have some common ground. Both families are proud of the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve.”
That was a good answer.
“What about Winter telling me Whit’s new girlfriend, Candace Hawthorne, was nothing more than a political stunt?” Bailey asked. “That sound like bygones are bygones to you?”
The urge to protest was strong, but Caleb stepped up again. “Honestly, after the way she told my brother the engagement was off, complete with a big splash of water on a cold night, I’ll call that progress.” He held out both hands. “Please, tour the gallery. Find something you love. You’ll be getting a press release about upcoming media days where we will make the lodge building site open to the media and we’ll answer all your questions about the project there.”
Caleb turned his back and Winter had to admit it was a strong message. There was no way the delicate reporter was going to budge him from his spot. Winter was relieved until Bailey Garcia asked, “One last question. Are all the Callaways comfortable with how close Winter is with the governor?” Bailey smiled brightly. “The footage of her leaving the capitol a little over a week ago impressed me. She almost looked like a woman with the inside track to Richard Duncan.”
Before Caleb could answer, Winter stepped forward. “Call me tomorrow, Bailey. I’ll be happy to explain why the governor and I were discussing his education platform. It’s not right for Tennessee, and I have high hopes the conversation might have swayed his thinking.”
For a split second, she and Bailey were frozen in the center of the crowd. Was the reporter going to accept that? The news crew left while Winter was wracking her brain to come up with a way to smooth things over. Nothing came to mind, so whatever story broke, Winter would find a way to spin it. That was what she did and she was good at it.
If it was about a relationship between her and Caleb Callaway…
Well, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, except hold on for another wild ride.
When the conversation in the room resumed, thanks to her father’s loud question about who wanted to hear a story, Winter towed Caleb into the storage room and closed the door.
“It was a job interview. I got the offer. I didn’t take it because Richard Duncan is nothing but a cautionary tale of how politics have gone badly wrong because of some. Believe me or don’t, that’s what happened.” Winter crossed her arms tightly in front of her. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, though.”
Caleb studied her face. “It was before the truce, right? Water under the bridge. What did you want to say?” His eyes weren’t the clear green she expected when he was happy, but he seemed to be giving her the benefit of the doubt.
“Thank you.” She shrugged. “That’s it. That’s as far as I thought it through. Thank you for helping me when you didn’t have to and for coming to Sweetwater to build this lodge that will mean so much and for being patient with my hurt and anger and for coming tonight to support this gallery and town and for answering Bailey Garcia with a grace she probably wasn’t expecting and I didn’t deserve and for…everything. Thank you. I’ve been carrying around this guilt for dragging you into this, and…” She stuttered to a stop and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. That’s all.”
Caleb’s lips twitched as he straightened. “That’s a lot.”
Winter nodded. “Oh, and one more thing…” Before she lost her nerve, she stretched up to press a kiss against his lips. The feel of his shoulders under her hands and the grip of his fingers on her hips were more than she imagined, so sweet. Right. As if she’d found the place she belonged.
When she stepped back, his eyes opened slowly. “You’re welcome.”
Winter laughed.
“I don’t know what else to say. My brain is stuck in a celebration loop.” Caleb pulled her tight against his chest.
“Then it’s a good time to go shopping. Buy some art. Make sure you tell Janet that any commission goes to me. I’ve got to prove my worth here or I’ll be twice unemployed.” Winter grinned up at him, completely unconcerned about what came next for her.
For tonight, there was Sweetwater and her family and her friends and this gallery.
All her problems could wait until the sun came up again.