Chapter Thirteen

Macy

Thank God the cab arrived when it did. If it hadn't, I think I was in danger of letting the situation run away with me.

The situation and confusion are my only excuses for that last outburst. Plus the fact that I was desperately trying to hide how much Dawson's words were getting to me. It wasn't that he was dwelling in the past, or even that he was blaming himself for everything. It was that he'd described himself as empty just moments before, and I hated that. Because it wasn't true. He's far from empty, and just knowing how he felt made me want to hug him, to hold his body close to mine and comfort him. This wasn't about worshipping him anymore, it was about getting him to see he's worth so much more than he seems to think… because he is.

Except there was still that nagging voice telling me to back off. That's where the confusion came from. Because backing off was the last thing I wanted to do. So, while I know I should have tried harder to appear indifferent, I honestly couldn't. I mean, how was I supposed to turn a blind eye when he explained he wouldn't have taken Stevie back, even if she'd begged? How was I supposed to ignore that? How was I supposed to pretend I didn't care? Didn't secretly rejoice? I couldn't. Despite that goddamn voice.

Which is why the cab's arrival was timely.

It meant I could leave and put some space between us. He seemed to have more to say, and I felt guilty for walking out, but I couldn't keep the cab driver waiting. That's what I said to Dawson… although now, as much as I crave that space, I crave him more.

Which just goes to show, there's nothing like being contrary.

The snow at Aunt Bernie's is even deeper than it is in the town, but she's already cleared a path to the door which is typical of her… never one to be deterred by a minor inconvenience. I sent her a text message once the cab had left the bar, and she must have been looking out for me, because she's standing by the open door the moment it pulls up.

I thank the driver, giving him a generous tip, and jump from the car into Aunt Bernie's welcoming arms.

"I've been so worried about you," she says.

"You knew where I was."

"I know, but this snow…" She glances around, then leads me inside, closing the door behind us. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Dawson said it was the deepest he'd seen in years."

"He didn't mind you staying over?"

"Not at all."

I don't mention what happened last night or this morning. It would probably help if I could talk it through with someone, but I don't think Aunt Bernie is the right someone. If I told her about Dawson's drinking, she'd probably tell me to run a mile, even though I don't see it, or him, as a threat.

I just feel sorry for him… and I still want to help.

I kick off my shoes and Aunt Bernie takes my coat and scarf, hooking them up before she leads me into the kitchen. It's lovely and warm in here, although I don't think I've got time to appreciate it.

"I need to take a shower," I say.

"I'm sure you do, but you can have some breakfast first, can't you?"

"I'll see how much time I've got afterwards."

She frowns. "Time? Why? Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes. I'm going to work."

"In this?" She nods toward the kitchen window, where the snow is piled on the ledge outside.

"Of course. The roads are passable now, so I'll be able to walk to the orchard, and then on into town once I've finished there. I'll collect the car from the auto repair shop, and once I've finished work at the bar, I'll drive back home."

"Are you sure? Everyone would understand if you couldn't make it."

"But I can make it. It might just take a little longer, that's all."

"What will you do if it snows some more tonight and you can't get home again?"

"I'll stay at Dawson's place again, I guess." I'm not sure how I feel about that. Part of me is excited by the thought, and part of me – the part that operates the voice in my head – is telling me it's probably the worst idea I've ever had.

"You'll text me, though, won't you? Even if it's late?"

"Of course. You'll be asleep by the time I do, but at least you'll know where I am."

She smiles and I lean in and kiss her cheek.

"You'd better go grab that shower. I'll fix some pancakes so you can eat before you leave."

"Thanks, Aunty."

I could head straight for the bathroom, but instead I go into my bedroom and find my thick-soled boots at the bottom of the closet. Despite everything I've just said to Aunt Bernie, I'm going to need them for the walk to the orchard. The roads might be better than they were, but it's icy and, as she said, we don't know for sure that we've seen the last of the snow.

The shower is lovely, and just what I need, although I don't have time to linger, and once I've washed, and shampooed my hair, I step out, wrapping myself in a thick, fluffy towel, before I make my way back to my bedroom. Because I have to collect the car, I won't be coming back here between going to the orchard and my shift in the bar tonight. That's unusual. Normally, I come back, have something to eat and drink – if I haven't already had lunch with Peony – and then change into lighter clothes, that are more suitable for working behind a bar. I won't get that chance today, but there's no way I can walk around in nothing more than a thin blouse all day. It seems wise to wear a sweater, but I put a t-shirt on underneath it, so I can remove a layer when I get to Dawson's place this evening.

I'll also need to take some makeup with me, and a few hair ties, so I can make myself look presentable between my first job and my second.

With all my things gathered together, I dry my hair before I join Aunt Bernie in the kitchen again. The table is laid for two, with a pot of coffee in the middle, alongside a jug of maple syrup, and as I sit, she brings over a plate of pancakes which have been warming in the oven.

"What are you doing today?" I ask her as I help us both to pancakes, and she pours the coffee.

"I've had two cancelations already this morning and I fully expect the other two to go the same way," she says. "So I thought I'd bake some cakes. It feels like one of those days when you just wanna stay inside and keep warm."

I can't disagree, even if that's not an option for me. I'd like to, though, especially if Aunt Bernie's gonna be baking.

She drizzles a little maple syrup over her pancakes, and I copy her before we both start eating. They're as light and fluffy as ever, and I take a moment to savor them, then have a sip of coffee, looking up to find Aunt Bernie staring at me.

"I haven't really talked to you since you started working at the bar," she says. "How are you getting along?"

"Okay, I think. There haven't been any complaints." I focus on the job itself, rather than the man I'm working for, because I don't really know how I'm getting along with him.

"You're not too tired, are you? Working two jobs?"

"Not at all."

"And you're getting along okay with Dawson? I know he's not the most talkative person in the world."

I'd have to disagree, based on this morning's conversation… and even last night's, before he got too drunk to talk. That said, even as he was trying to climb the stairs with me, I can remember how funny he was, and I can't help smiling.

"Did I say something amusing?" Aunt Bernie asks, and I do my best to look serious again.

"Not at all. I was just thinking how nice these pancakes are."

She frowns, and I know she doesn't believe me.

"Sure," she says, sipping her coffee and raising her eyebrows at me.

I'm not about to reveal my innermost secrets. Aside from anything else, that voice in my head is still screaming at me, so even if Dawson makes me laugh, and cry, and everything in between, I can't block out the noise.

I'm going to be late for work, but I'm sure Peony won't mind, and once I've finished my pancakes and drunk my coffee, I put on my boots and head off, pulling on a hat and a pair of gloves this time.

"Take care," Aunt Bernie calls out, and I give her a wave.

Despite the cold, and the slightly icy road surface, it's lovely outside. There's very little traffic, and everyone that passes drives slowly, most of the drivers giving me a nod or a wave. There's a freshness in the air, and although it sounds bizarre, I wish I'd worn my sunglasses. The snow is really bright in the morning sunshine, even if it doesn't look like melting anytime soon.

The track to the farmhouse has been cleared, which is a relief, and I let myself in, like I usually do, surprised when Peony jumps up from the table.

"You're here?" she says. "I didn't think you'd make it."

"I'd have called if I wasn't going to." I take off my hat and gloves, followed by my scarf. "Although I'm relieved the track was clear. I wasn't looking forward to walking up it, even with my boots on."

She smiles. "It was Simeon's first job of the morning. Luckily, he could use the tractor, rather than doing it by hand, or he'd still be out there."

"Has Ryan gone to work?" I ask, shrugging off my coat and hooking it up.

"Yeah. He left as soon as the track was clear. He wasn't sure how many people were gonna make it in to the office, and someone has to be there."

"It's his company, I guess, so…"

"Exactly," she says. "Do you want a coffee?"

"I'd love one."

She nods, going into the kitchen. "Rory woke up at five this morning, which I didn't need," she says, rolling her eyes, and I sense her desire for caffeine is probably greater than anything.

"Has he gone back to sleep?" I ask.

"Yeah, but that was a while ago now, so he'll probably wake up again soon."

I wander over and settle at the table. "Have Sophia Norris's candles been shipped yet?" I ask.

"We had an email this morning. They're on their way at last."

"That's good."

She brings back cups of steaming coffee and resumes her seat beside me. "Cooper and Mallory came back with their final choices for the food they want. And they've selected their wines, too. So, we need to confirm it all back to Archer."

"Okay. I can see to that."

"And once that's done, we can organize the menus and get them printed."

"That's fine."

"I'll need to…" She stops talking as we both hear a cry coming from the back of the house, and she shakes her head, getting to her feet. "I knew it was too good to last," she says, although I notice she's smiling.

While she's gone, I get on with typing out the message to Archer. The menu Cooper and Mallory have chosen sounds delicious, and I can't help wishing that part of this job involved a free invite to each of the weddings. This isn't the first menu I've typed where I've found my mouth watering.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Peony says, coming back into the room. "Could you hold Rory while I fetch his milk?"

"Sure."

She hands him over, and I sit back a little, taking him in my arms. He's dressed in navy blue pants and a gray sweater, and feels all snuggly and warm, having just come from his crib. He has a mop of dark hair, which is messed up at the back, and I smooth it down, marveling at how soft it is, my heart melting slightly, as a thought filters through my head. Except I can't let it make a home there. I can't think about things like that… things that can never happen.

Dawson may have called me beautiful, and may have been aroused outside the bathroom this morning, but I still don't know whether that had anything to do with me. Even if it did, I have no way of knowing if he wants to make anything out of it… and besides, that voice in my head still won't stop yelling… telling me this is a bad idea.

Besides, who says he even likes kids?

"Are you okay?" Peony sits beside me, putting the bottle on the table while she takes Rory and settles him in her arms.

"I'm fine." I'm not, but if Aunt Bernie wasn't the right person to talk to, then neither is Peony… although for completely different reasons. Her connection with Dawson being the most obvious one.

"So, you don't wanna tell me what's wrong?" she says, feeding her son, but looking at me.

"Who says anything's wrong?"

"I do. You looked so sad just then, and you're never normally sad."

"No, I'm not." That's absolutely true. It's most unlike me not to have a smile on my face, and yet I know the situation with Dawson is troubling me. That's mostly because I can't work out what to do, or how to behave, or even what I want… other than him, although I know I can't have him. Regardless of all that, though, I don't feel like I can tell Peony my troubles. They're too personal. And too muddled. I guess I might be able to tell her something, though. Who knows, maybe saying it aloud will help me work things out in my own way. It can't hurt… as long as she doesn't mind.

"You know you can tell me anything," she says. "This place might be a hotbed of gossip, but I'm good at keeping things to myself."

"I know, but the thing is, it's about Dawson."

"And?"

"Well… the two of you have history. I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable."

"You won't. Dawson and I might not be talking to each other, but that doesn't mean I can't listen if you wanna talk about him."

I turn in my seat, so I'm facing her, pushing the laptop back slightly so I can rest my elbow on the table, although I focus on Rory, not his mom, because I think I'll find that easier. Even if I've decided not to reveal my feelings for Dawson, this is still personal, because it's about him… like she said.

"I stayed there last night," I say, glancing up in time to see her widening eyes, which makes me realize I should have phrased that differently. "Not in the way you think," I add quickly. "The snow was too deep for me to walk, and I couldn't get a cab, so I stayed in his guest bedroom."

"I see. Was that a problem?"

"Not really… except I had to help him up the stairs and put him to bed."

"You did?" I can tell she's surprised, just by the look on her face, and I let out a sigh, continuing with my story.

"I was woken in the early hours by a thudding sound." There's no way I'm going to tell her about the dream that thudding sound interrupted. That's definitely too personal.

"What was it?" she asks.

"Dawson, falling up the stairs."

"Did he hurt himself?"

"I don't think so." To be honest, I forgot to ask… and I probably should have done. I had plenty of opportunities, not just last night, but this morning. "The problem was, he was too drunk to stand."

"Oh dear," she says with a smile.

I shake my head and her smile fades. "It wasn't a one-off," I say. "He's been drinking heavily for a while now, sneaking bourbon into his coffee and vodka into his glass when he thinks no-one's looking."

"Seriously? I had no idea, although I suppose I wouldn't, would I? I haven't seen him for ages."

"No, but he's hidden it well. I don't think anyone knows about it except me. It started when his ex-wife left him." She blushes and I sit back slightly. "You see? I said it would be awkward for you to talk about this. Your boyfriend left town with his wife. It's a complicated triangle… or square, or some other shape that doesn't belong."

She smiles, putting Rory's empty bottle on the table now he's finished, and she sits him up, wiping his chin with the cloth she has over her shoulder.

"Whatever the shape was, it was broken when they left," she says.

"Was it, though? If it was really broken, why is he still drinking so much?"

"I don't know. People react in different ways when their relationships break down."

"I know."

I ran when it happened to me. That's how I wound up here.

"I'll admit I was lonely when Luca left," she says, letting out a sigh. "But at least I had Laurel. She was always there when I needed her, even if it was just someone to yell at down the phone."

"Did she rely on you in the same way, when her first marriage broke down?"

I've heard enough about the mysterious Mitch to know it didn't end well between him and Laurel.

"It didn't break down," she says, shaking her head. "Mitch died."

"Oh, my God. I didn't realize."

"Why would you? It's not something any of us talk about very much… mostly because the guy was an asshole."

"Excuse me?" I can't believe I heard that, and I sit forward.

"Mitch Bradshaw was a cheating asshole," she says, sighing deeply. "He was killed in a car accident while leaving town with his girlfriend… his pregnant girlfriend."

My mouth drops open, and I have to make an effort to close it again. "His… His pregnant girlfriend?"

"Yeah. Obviously, Laurel knew nothing about any of that. She just knew the man she loved had died, and she was devastated."

"I can imagine."

"I tried to do what I could, but when the truth came to light, it just made everything a hundred times worse. She had to keep going for Addy's sake, but without Brady, I don't know what would have happened to her."

"Has he been married before?" I ask, feeling intrigued by his background now.

"No. He'd been in love with Laurel for nearly ten years. He'd had to watch her marry Mitch and live a supposedly happy life with him."

"Did he know Mitch was cheating?"

"Not until he arrived on the scene of the accident. The evidence was irrefutable."

"But I thought you said it didn't come out for a while."

"It didn't," she says. "Brady held back all the details about Mitch's girlfriend being in the car with him, and that she was pregnant."

"Wow. What did Laurel do when she found out?"

"To start with, she blamed Brady. But then she realized it wasn't his fault… and obviously they patched up their differences."

"Obviously," I say with a smile, understanding now why some people have reacted the way they have to the mention of Mitch's name.

"Dawson's situation is very different," Peony says, getting us back on topic.

"I know. That's what makes it so confusing. I get that his ex-wife cheated, but it's not as though that's never been done before, and in any case, he said he wouldn't have her back… not even if she begged."

"Maybe not, but not wanting someone back doesn't mean you're okay with them going in the first place."

"Except he said he doesn't regret her leaving."

She frowns. "I imagine he did at the time. In which case, it's all history, isn't it? It's just history he's having trouble adapting to. I doubt he wants it to be like this, though. I mean… who would?"

"I agree with you." I'm pretty sure he hates being the way he is. He certainly apologized for it enough times. "The question is, what can I do to help him?"

"You want to?" she asks, sounding surprised by the idea.

"Yes. Except I don't know how."

She nods, smiling. "I wouldn't worry. I'm sure he'll work it out," she says.

"Will he?"

"Yes. I remember what Dawson used to be like before Stevie left, and he's one of the nicest guys anyone could hope to meet. It might seem hard to believe, but he really is."

"It's not hard to believe at all."

She tilts her head. "You like him, don't you?" I can't say ‘no'. But I don't want to say ‘yes', either. Not because it isn't true, but because nothing can come of it. "It's okay," she says. "I won't tell anyone."

That's just as well, because I'd be mortified if anything ever got back to Dawson.

I'm saved from the embarrassment of having to reply by the ringing of Peony's phone. She answers it, and I realize that it's Archer, questioning something on the email I sent over just now. The interruption is welcome. I'm done talking. I'm done thinking. None of it seems to get me very far.

"Can I give you a ride home?" Peony asks as we wrap up for the day. Everything we needed to get done this morning is done, and she told me earlier she's arranged to spend the afternoon with her friend, Laurel.

"I'm not going home. I've gotta head straight into town to pick up Aunt Bernie's car from the auto repair shop. Levi needs it to be collected before two." I check my watch and find it's one-fifteen already. Where did that time go?

"I can take you into town instead," she says.

"Would you? I'm not sure I'll make it if I have to walk."

"It's fine."

She turns away just as her phone rings, and I get on with clearing the table while she talks. Rory is lying on the floor, beneath an activity gym, and seems quite content, although I keep an eye on him, while Peony wanders into the kitchen, shaking her head, and pushing her fingers back through her hair, like she's frustrated, or maybe even angry. I can't tell which, and I wait for her to finish, coming back to me.

"Has something happened?"

"In a manner of speaking," she says, putting her phone in her back pocket. "That was Sophia Norris."

"Oh? Is there a problem?"

"Evidently. Although why she couldn't have foreseen it before now, I don't know."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"It's to do with her parents," she says, checking the time and gathering her things together, lifting Rory from the floor, and grabbing her keys.

"What about them?"

"They're divorced, and they don't speak to each other, except through their lawyers."

"Okay… and?"

"And that means they can't be seated within twenty feet of each other."

"Twenty feet? It has to be that precise?"

"I don't know. She didn't mention any legal restriction. She just said they had to be kept apart, and mentioned twenty feet as the required distance."

"We haven't allowed for that in any of the seating plans, either for the ceremony or the meal."

"No."

She shakes her head as we make our way outside and I help her load everything she needs onto the back seat of her bright red pickup, alongside Rory's seat. Once he's strapped in, she turns to me.

"Do you think you could come in tomorrow so we can take a look at it? Sophia's insisting we get back to her by the end of the week with the full seating plans, and you're so much better at those than I am, plus with everything else we've…"

"It's fine," I say, giving her a smile. "I'll be here in the morning, and we'll work it out."

She sighs out her relief. "Thank you so much, Macy. I don't know what I'd do without you."

I chuckle and she joins in before we get in the front of the car, and she turns the heating to full blast.

"This is lovely," I say, glancing around.

"Ryan gave it to me as a wedding present," she says, looking over at me before she turns the truck around and starts down the track that leads to the main road.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I know it sounds like an odd thing to buy for your bride, but my old truck was falling apart. I needed it – or something like it – for working on the farm, but I also needed something reliable, and I wasn't gonna let Ryan just buy me a new one simply because he could."

"So he gave it to you as a wedding present?"

She nods her head, smiling. "Yeah. Although, to be honest, with the amount of work I do on the farm these days, I could make do with a hatchback."

We both laugh as she pulls out onto the main road. "I don't know. I think your car's quite useful in this weather."

"It sure is," she says, and she gives me a smile.

It takes no time at all to get into town, and Peony drops me at the auto repair shop, telling me to take care driving my aunt's car.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she says. "And thanks again for coming in on your day off."

"It's fine," I say, giving her a wave as I watch her drive away before entering through the gates of the auto repair shop. There's a wooden building over to the right, which has a sign on one side that says ‘Office' on it. The door is closed, which isn't a surprise in this weather, and I wander over, knocking on its gnarled surface.

I expect someone to call out for me to enter, but instead the door opens, and I step back, a little startled.

"You must be Bernie's niece," the man says.

"I am."

I study him for a second, taking in his blue coveralls, graying hair, and kindly eyes, which wrinkle at the corners when he smiles.

"The car's over here," he says, stepping out and walking with me to the other side of the yard, beyond a pickup that's similar to Peony's but has clearly seen better days, revealing Aunt Bernie's Toyota. "Your aunt called earlier and paid me over the phone, so I just need to give you back the keys."

He rummages in his pocket, pulling out a set of keys, which he hands over to me.

"Thanks for fixing it," I say, opening the car.

"Oh, don't thank me. I just wish I'd been able to get it done sooner." He looks up at the sky. "Are you gonna be okay driving in this weather?"

"I'll be fine."

Especially as I've only got to go across the street for now.

He nods his head, holding the door open while I get inside, and then closing it for me. He gives me a wave and heads back into his wooden office while I start the engine, grateful that he reversed the car into its slot. I wouldn't have liked to turn it around in such a tight space, but as it is, I can just drive out.

Main Street is really quiet, so I drive straight across it, and into the parking lot behind Dawson's bar, which is practically deserted.

It's not even two yet, but I can kill some time fixing my hair and makeup. I keep it simple, because I'm in the car, and it's cold out here… too cold to hang around, but once I'm ready, I head inside, making sure to lock the car.

Dawson looks up from behind the bar, his frown registering his surprise.

"Sorry I'm early," I say, pulling off my scarf as I go over to him. There are a few customers in here, but they're all seated at booths, not at the bar, and no-one seems to pay attention to me. They're all busy with their own conversations… their own lives.

"You don't need to apologize for that," he says. "Was I expecting you?" It's like he doesn't know, or can't remember. But that's probably quite normal for him.

"Yes, and no. I had to collect my aunt's car…"

"I remember something about that," he says, interrupting me. "You told me, didn't you?"

"I did… although I didn't explain exactly when I was picking it up, or that I'd need to come in early as a result."

"I'm not complaining." He smiles at me and I have to smile back. "And at least you won't have to walk home tonight… not that I'd have let you."

You'd have to be sober first.

I nod my head, keeping my thoughts to myself. "I'll take my things out back," I say. With all these layers on, I'm getting warm already, and I don't wait for his reply, making my way to the rear of the bar, and into the break room, where I remove my coat and scarf, putting them, my hat, and gloves, and my sweater into the locker, adding my purse. It's a tight squeeze, but everything fits, and I lock it, putting the key into my pocket before I go back out into the bar.

Dawson's exactly where I left him, and I wander over, joining him, blushing as his eyes roam a little, up and down my body, before he fixes them on my face.

"I'm just going through to the kitchen for a moment," he says.

"Okay."

He goes, leaving me alone, and I glance around, discovering that two of the tables have emptied in my absence. I clear them of glasses, wiping them down, and get back to the bar again at the same time as Dawson.

"You can take your break, if you want," I say. "I know it's early, but…"

"I don't need to take a break today," he says.

"You don't?"

He shakes his head. "I've just asked Karl to fix us both a sandwich before he leaves. I—I thought we could eat together, if that's okay with you?"

"Eat together? How? We can hardly both go upstairs or into the break room."

"No, but it's usually fairly quiet late in the afternoon. We can eat out here, and if someone comes in, I'll see to them."

"Are you sure? You don't wanna go upstairs and have a rest?"

"No. I'd rather stay down here with you."

I suck in a sharp breath, wondering if that's the drink talking. Except there's something about his eyes… they're sparkling and alive, and different. It's odd, but if I didn't know better, I'd be willing to swear he was sober.