Lily watched Carson’s shoulders hunch in, his head resting in his hands. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew that he was distraught beyond words.
He’d hate her forever for this.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, wanting to blurt out the words before he shut down entirely. “If I hadn’t told the investigators all I did, or if I’d responded better when she came to the guard hut so upset…”
But he wasn’t listening. He didn’t need to hear her details or apologies. He was devastated, just as she’d known he would be.
If only she’d never come here, he would never have had to know the painful truth.
Why couldn’t she have had the strength to turn him away when he’d arrived here tonight? Why had her heart leaped with happiness? Selfish, selfish, selfish.
She went over and sat beside him. Not touching him, but shoulder to shoulder. She looked into the fire, now dying down a little, and tried to talk to God.
By the time Carson stirred from his slumped position, the sky outside had darkened. Lily had finished her coffee, and she’d found the blanket in his pack to drape around his shoulders. She’d wandered the cabin and found a spot where there was intermittent cell phone reception, and had texted Long John that Carson was safe and with her.
She was poking at the fire, trying to get a few last flames out of it, when she felt him looking at her.
His face was sunken. He looked like he’d aged twenty years.
Oh, Pam. “I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent her death. So sorry. And I’m sorry I kept the truth from you.” Inadequate words, obviously, but the best she could do.
She felt hammered by the events of the day. And by the crushing sensation that she’d let Pam down, let Carson down, let the twins down.
And the pain in Carson’s face gutted her. Hurt her as if it were her own.
He pushed himself to his feet, his motions jerky, and studied her. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
She stood, too. “Of course.”
“I’ll take you wherever you need to go, as long as it’s away from the ranch and me and the girls.”
She’d expected this, but his words still cut like blades.
“Can I drive you somewhere?” His voice sounded like a parody of the kind, helpful pastor.
Drive her somewhere. Help her to leave.
She’d been headed south with the idea of driving back to Phoenix, but that wasn’t going to work, not with her car in a ditch.
And yet she couldn’t go back to the cabin.
She had to get far, far away, both for her own sake and for Carson’s.
A plan formulated in her mind, and she spoke up as soon as she thought of it. “Could you take me to the bus station in Trinidad?”
“You want to take a Greyhound bus in a snowstorm?”
No, she didn’t want to, it was killing her, but if she was going, she had to do it fast. “If you can’t, it’s okay. I’m sure I can get someone in Esperanza Springs to take me, if you can run me back there.”
“I’ll take you.” He stood abruptly. “But we should get moving. The roads won’t get any better. What are you doing about your car?”
His businesslike attitude hurt, but it was for the best. “I think I can call someone to tow it. Maybe even donate it, if it can’t be fixed.”
“Sure.” He nodded. “I’ll put out the last of this fire. Gather your things.” His voice was stern, impersonal.
She couldn’t bear for him to be like this, couldn’t bear for their connection to be entirely gone. “Did…did you get Bella back to the kennel?” The thought of the poor old dog had been hovering at the back of her mind. Bella didn’t understand all this human drama; she just wanted a quiet place to rest and be loved.
Didn’t they all.
“I haven’t had time to move Bella,” he said, still in that detached tone, “but I’ll take care of it.”
Don’t be like that, she wanted to scream. Be your old self with me.
But that old self was gone. She’d killed it with her deceptions and mistakes.
She bundled up and then helped him haul in snow to make sure the fire was out.
“You ready?”
No. “Sure.”
“I’ll break a path. Walk behind me.”
It was the most miserable walk of Lily’s life. She followed Carson, never taking her eyes off him, trying to memorize the set of his shoulders, the slight hitch in his gait she’d never noticed before, maybe an old sports injury. The curl of hair that peeked out beneath his cap when he turned to check on her, make sure she was still there.
The hour-long ride to the little town of Trinidad was miserable, too. Carson turned on the radio, but it was mostly static. No good as a distraction. He drove expertly, not overly fast but not creeping along.
By the time they pulled into the small truck stop that housed the bus station in Trinidad, Lily already had her hand on the door handle. “You can just drop me off at the front door,” she said.
“I can’t just leave you here in the middle of nowhere,” he said in a tone that brooked no reply. “I’ll come in.”
If he sat with her for the hours it would probably take for a bus to arrive, she wouldn’t be able to bear it. And neither, from the looks of it, would he; he was just offering to stay because he was a protector and a gentleman to the core.
She made herself smile at him then, cool and impersonal. “I’ll be fine, Carson,” she said, even though the place, mostly deserted in the storm, made her nervous. “Don’t give it a moment’s thought.” She jumped out and was reaching for her bag when he came around and pulled it out for her.
Now that it was really goodbye, Lily’s courage failed. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in her eyes.
“Listen,” he said gruffly. “I can take you back to the ranch. Give you time to think things through and figure out your next step, at least.”
“No.” She didn’t dare return to the ranch. Didn’t dare see the girls again. “Thanks for everything,” she whispered, knowing her voice was barely audible over the lonely wind. “Tell…the twins…I love them.”
It was all she could say. She couldn’t look at his face. Instead, she grabbed her bag, gave his arm a quick squeeze and ran into the station.
As it turned out, she would have a long wait for the next bus south, but there was one going north in just three hours. She looked at the map given to her by a sleepy clerk and traced the routes with her finger, tears blurring her vision.
She’d thought to go back to Phoenix, because school and her apartment were there. But the idea of returning to the empty apartment was unbearable. If she went back, she’d have several weeks before the semester started, and she’d have nothing to do but sit and mope. And sink into despair.
On an impulse, she asked prices and distances to Kansas City, and discovered the trip was manageable. She could put the ticket on her credit card and use public transportation or a ride-sharing service when she got there.
It wasn’t in the budget, but it felt like the right thing to do. Or at least, a thing to do. One more effort at atonement.
Four hours later she was on a bus north, riding through the night to Kansas City and a piece of her past.
* * *
As had happened before, Carson’s twins were the saving of him.
Distraught as he was about what he’d learned about Pam, and about the vast secret Lily had kept from him, he still had to get up the next morning. Had to put on his game face and pack up their things and drive back to town.
Had to answer his girls’ questions about why Miss Lily wasn’t coming back.
“But she didn’t say bye to us,” Sunny protested when Carson said she’d had to go home.
“Is she mad?” Skye asked.
He shook his head. “No. She told me to tell you she loved spending Christmas with you,” he said. It was a little modification of what she’d said—she’d said she loved them, plain and simple—but he felt funny saying that to the girls, when they’d probably never see her again.
He probably wouldn’t, either.
Almost involuntarily, he brushed his fingertips with his thumb, remembering the feel of Lily’s hair. He’d touched it only a couple of times, but it had been so soft and wispy.
He’d held her only the once, but the feeling was imprinted in his arms. Her delicacy, her slender strength.
He wouldn’t feel those things again.
Wouldn’t be as open to a woman, either. Not when it hurt this much to lose her. He’d always thought he’d eventually remarry, once he processed Pam’s death and healed from it.
But the healing would be more difficult than he’d expected because of what he’d learned.
He doubted he’d remarry now. So this was how it would be: him ushering the girls out of the car—alone. Carrying their things inside their house—alone.
He could do single parenthood. He’d been doing it, and he could continue.
His reassurances had satisfied Sunny, but Skye was more sensitive. Spending the night at Long John’s, and then coming home to an absent Miss Lily and a haggard, silent daddy, had upset her.
As they carried the last of their things back into their own house, he caught her wiping tears.
Carson dropped his load of suitcases and grocery bags right inside the front door and knelt to give her a hug. “What’s wrong, muffin?” he asked.
“I wanted a mommy,” she said into his shoulder, sniffling.
Carson’s heart twisted, hard, and he tightened his arms around her. “I know you did. I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Miss Lily.”
Sunny shrugged. “Maybe someday, we’ll meet someone else who can be the mommy of our family.”
“But I liked her.” The corners of Skye’s mouth turned down.
Carson wrapped her in a big hug. “Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
Fortunately, being kids, Sunny and Skye were quickly swept back into their town life of playmates and kindergarten and church activities.
Carson had a harder time of it. The days dragged by, even though he was immediately busy with the church. When he wasn’t working, he looked at old pictures of Pam and wondered whether, even through her smiles, she’d been contemplating taking her own life. He tried to understand what might have led her to that pass. Wondered how much of it was his fault.
As it happened, he spent a fair amount of time counseling Gavin’s family members. To be effective at it, he forced himself to read up on the subject of suicide, to understand the reasons for it. Despair, mental illness, hopelessness… Yeah. Pam had all of that.
If any good could come out of this awful situation, it was making him a better pastor. He could speak to Gavin’s mom with real sympathy and understanding now, and she was doing better.
She felt terrible remorse for her actions. She agreed immediately with one of the catchphrases he’d shared with her: that taking one’s own life was a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
Maybe Pam would have changed her mind, too, if she’d had time to think.
After a couple of weeks of ruminating about Pam, trying to process what she’d done, thoughts of Lily began to creep back into his mind. He attempted to push them away, tried to maintain his anger, threw himself into his work.
On an unseasonably warm and sunny Sunday toward the end of January, Jack and Finn suggested they take advantage of the weather by doing some outdoor projects at the church after services. Since the twins had gone home with some friends for a playdate, Carson decided to join the other two men.
Better than going home alone.
They talked football championships for a while, and then somehow, they moved into more emotional ground. “I didn’t think Lily would leave,” Jack said, his voice casual, conversational. “She seemed like the type who’d stay. She fit in real well here.”
“I thought so, too,” Carson said. “But she kept a few secrets.”
“What do you mean?”
As they worked on a fence around the church’s new playground, Carson told his friend some of what Lily had revealed about Pam.
Jack shook his head. “That’s rough,” he said when Carson had finished the sorry tale. “I know how it goes. You’re asking yourself why, what you could have done differently. That news just dumped a whole lot of guilt on you, but you can’t let it. Suicide’s complicated. And who’s to say she was thinking when she did it? She could’ve been trying to get out of serving and come home.”
Finn, who was listening from the other side of the yard, gave Jack a look.
Jack glared right back. “I know you’re a war hero, but not everyone’s like that. Some people get themselves injured on purpose so they can come home. Maybe that was Pam.”
“Humph.” Finn went over to a different side of the fence to work.
“Could it have been an accident?” Jack asked.
“Nope,” Carson said. “There was a note. Lily had it.” He paused. “She had it all along, but she didn’t see fit to tell me until I forced the issue.”
“Whoa.”
They worked in silence for a while longer. Then Jack spoke. “Lily didn’t keep that information from you for a bad reason. She knew it would hurt you, right? She was trying to spare you pain.”
“I guess.”
“So maybe you should talk to her.” Then Jack lifted his hands like stop signs. “Although, don’t listen to me. I know nothing about love. Never going there again.”
“Never?” Carson was genuinely curious. He didn’t know much about Jack’s past, aside from the fact that he’d unexpectedly lost his wife at a young age, right after they’d adopted a baby.
“Never.” Jack shook his head. “Me and women don’t get along.”
Finn carried a load of planks over their way. “If you like Lily, go after her. Don’t get caught up in stubborn pride, like I did. I almost lost Kayla and Leo because of it.”
Carson remembered those days, when Finn had spiraled into darkness caused by his past tragedy, and Kayla and Leo had packed up to leave the ranch. It had almost had a disastrous outcome, but with God’s help, Finn and Kayla had overcome their hurdles and built a happy life together.
Funny how much easier it was to see that happen in others than to believe it could happen for him.
“Listen, Carson.” Jack glanced over at Finn, who came to stand beside him. “Even before what you said today, we…well, we were thinking you should talk to someone about Pam.”
He leveled a glare at them. “Who’s we? And talk to who?”
“Us,” Finn said. “We think you should talk to a counselor.”
“Because you’re miserable,” Jack said.
“And you pushed a good woman away,” Finn added.
Jack pulled out his phone. “I called around. There are a couple counselors in the area who might be able to help.”
“I can find my own therapist!” Carson narrowed his eyes at the pair. “How long have you been planning this conversation?”
They glanced at each other and shrugged at the same moment.
“I’m sending you names,” Jack said. “Call somebody, man. Talk to someone.”
“Do it.” Finn, the taciturn giant, took a step closer and glared at Carson.
“Fine, I’ll call,” he groused as Jack’s information pinged into his phone. But even through his annoyance at their interference, Carson felt grateful for friends who cared enough to do it.