Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Monday afternoon, Caroline put on her heavy coat and boots, and started walking over to her sister’s house.

She hadn’t planned on taking a mid-afternoon break, but Rhonda had insisted she’d worked too hard over the weekend, and needed to take a few hours to herself.

Falling back into old patterns because of the holiday season, was what she was fairly certain her mother’s phrasing had been.

And she had a point, Caroline supposed. Last holiday season, and every season before that, she had been running herself ragged. She never took any time for herself back then, always feeling far too guilty whenever she did. It wasn’t until Nora came back, and they patched things up, that Caroline started to see things a little differently. She started doing things like making time to read before bed and going out for coffee with friends.

But it was easy to slip back into bad habits. And as much as she didn’t like to admit it, her mother was probably right. She was probably using the busyness of the holidays to fall back into her old ways of never stopping, and never taking personal time.

“I’m so glad to see you!” Nora gushed as soon as her sister walked in, taking Caroline’s coat. “I’m working on invitations for the Christmas party, and?—”

“And you want some help?” Caroline asked, a little dryly. Nora smiled sheepishly.

“I was going to say I wanted to ask your opinion. But I also wouldn’t say no to help.”

Nora led Caroline into the dining room, where stationery and brightly colored pens and envelopes were scattered across the table, along with a list of names. “I think we should definitely invite Rhett,” she said as Caroline sat down, a knowing smile on her face. “It could be a chance for you to see him again! And at a party, no less.”

“I actually did see him again,” Caroline admitted, picking up one of the pens and twirling it between her fingers. She usually wasn’t given to nervous habits, but she’d started to be more fidgety lately.

The stress and exhaustion, she told herself. Not because of Rhett.

“His son found his way into our yard and tried to dig some holes,” she explained. “He was under the impression there were fossils to be found. I told him I’d walk him home and he took me to the fire station—where Rhett was on duty. That’s how I found out he’s Rhett’s.” Caroline bit her lip. “And they’re both coming over Tuesday to fix the damage to the yard. Which really isn’t much, but I think it’s more about the lesson Rhett is trying to impart.”

“Listen to you.” Nora giggled. “Sounds like his son set up the perfect opportunity to matchmake his dad.”

“The kid can’t be more than eight or nine,” Caroline said, rolling her eyes. “Hardly old enough to be that devious. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Nora sat down, leaning her elbows eagerly on the table. “Come on, I want all the details.”

“This is ridiculous.” Caroline shook her head. “Rhett is way out of my league.”

“That’s not true at all.” Nora gave her sister an incredulous look. “You’re beautiful. He’d be lucky to get to take you out. Plus, you’re always thinking less of yourself than everyone else does, so I don’t believe that for a second.”

Caroline chewed at her lip. Another nervous habit that she thought she’d broken a long time ago, only for it to come back.

“It did feel like he was watching me really closely,” she admitted finally, tapping the pen against the table. “When I saw him at the fire station, and when he came by to check the smoke detectors again. There was another incident,” she added, letting out a sharp breath. “Mom insisted on calling the fire department, even though I knew it was nothing to worry about.”

“She’s smart.” Nora grinned. “Okay. So he was paying attention to you. What else?”

“He… asked me questions. Or tried to guess things about me, actually. Like it was this fun, playful game. He wanted me to try to guess things about him too.”

“And did you?” Nora looked utterly delighted by the story. “This is incredible.”

“Yes.”

Caroline frowned at her sister, annoyed, but only a little—and more with herself than anything else, because she could feel the flutter in her chest again at the memory of the playful banter between her and Rhett in the living room.

“We both got about half the guesses right. It felt…” Caroline drew in a breath, trying to think of how to explain it. “It felt intentional. But I’m overthinking,” she added hurriedly. “He was just being polite.”

Nora grinned. “I don’t think so. I’m definitely inviting him. His is going to be the next one I get ready.”

Caroline was just about to argue with her sister when the phone rang. Nora mouthed, Just wait a second, then reached for it. Her face brightened instantly when she heard the voice on the other end.

“Leon? Did you hear about the chandelier?” Nora’s expression and voice were both animated and full of excitement, but Caroline saw her sister’s enthusiasm begin to slip away a second later as she listened.

“Oh. Oh, okay. There’s nothing we can—no, I understand. I do. Thank you for trying.”

Nora hung up the phone and turned back to Caroline, her expression crushed. “The chandelier that I wanted as the focal point of the living room is on back order,” she explained, sinking into her chair again. “I was planning all the decorations around that. And it would have been the perfect piece to tie our home together too.” She gave Caroline a sad, watery smile. “I know it’s just a material thing, but?—”

“Things will work out,” Caroline tried to reassure her. She didn’t have the same attachment to decorations and items that Nora had, or the ability to envision an entire space based on a central thing, and then have that vision crushed if it didn’t work out. But she could see how disappointed her sister was, and she hated that. “I understand though. You were really excited about it.”

She didn’t say it aloud, since she didn’t want her sister to think she was focusing on her own problems instead. But oddly enough, the debacle with the chandelier made her think of her own feelings when it came to herself. There had been times in her life when she’d allowed herself to hope, just for a moment, that a man who was her type liked her in return. But it never came to anything, no matter how she envisioned the possibilities. They were always just that—possibilities, but ones that missed in the end.

That was all Rhett would be too. So there was no point in entertaining the idea.

“I should get back to decorating.” Nora looked at the pile of invitations glumly. “I’m going to have to go back to the drawing board now that I can’t have that chandelier. I’m basically going to have to start from scratch.” She let out a disappointed sigh, and Caroline could see how bummed she was. She also knew that the best thing for Nora right now was to let her lose herself in planning again, so she wouldn’t think about how things could have been.

“I’ll let you get back to it, then. I should head back to the inn anyway.” Caroline stood up, giving her sister a hug and leaving her to it. Once Nora had some time to sort things out, she was sure her sister would be fine. She’d come up with a new decorating plan, and it would be even better than the first one.

She found, as she started to walk, that she wasn’t quite ready to go back to the inn yet. Her mind was cluttered with thoughts about seeing Rhett the next day, and she decided to keep walking to clear it. She took the path toward the beautiful tree where she had found the notebook, figuring that it would be gone by now or damaged beyond repair, but that she might as well enjoy the beautiful day. It was cold but sunny, the snow bright and hard-packed, her favorite kind of winter day.

The bench was empty, no one out by the tree, and no signs of anyone other than a trail of rabbit prints running past toward the woods. She brushed off the bench and sat down, rubbing her mittened hands together as she looked for the book.

To her surprise, it was still there. She reached for it, dusting off the snow, and opened to where she’d left the impulsive entry.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that the entry had been answered. She read it, feeling her chest ache with an odd feeling of kinship for this person she’d never met, who seemed to understand what was on her mind so well.

The things they were struggling with weren’t quite the same, but she could imagine that if they were able to sit down and talk with each other about what they were both dealing with, they would each be able to help the other.

She fumbled for the pen in her coat pocket, no longer hesitating to write back.

Everyone who knows me thinks I’m okay with how my life has gone. And a lot of it really is okay. Better than that—it’s good. I have a loving family and a job that I like, that feels fulfilling.

But what they don’t see, because I never let them, is that there’s always disappointment underneath that. I’m perpetually alone, when it comes to the parts of my life that I would share with a partner—not with friends or family, but someone who would share my life in deeper ways.

I’m lonely. I’ve never said that out loud to anyone, and I probably never will. I don’t think anyone knows that, because if they asked I’d deny it, and my life doesn’t seem lonely. It’s busy—too busy, sometimes—and full of people.

But I’m lonely in my heart. I feel like I’ll never have anyone who knows me fully because everyone in my life is someone that I take care of. That I make sure is never too bothered by my feelings or needs.

I don’t even bother myself enough with those, probably. And now, I’m pretty sure it’s too late to find someone who could be that other half.

She bit her lip, tucking the notebook away again. She’d never been so transparent with someone in all her life, or bared her soul so completely. But it was easier to say it all in writing rather than aloud, and she felt lighter every time she left another entry in the journal.

This time, as she slipped the book into the little notch between the bench and the tree, she found herself actively hoping that whoever left the other notes would find it, and respond. She felt as if she’d met a kindred spirit, through these journal exchanges.

Even if she had absolutely no idea who it was.