“If I talk to her again, I’ll try and get your things back. What’s missing, exactly?”
“Diamonds, for one thing. And that includes the yellow diamond double-B earrings that George had made for me on our fiftieth anniversary. A sapphire bracelet, a Van Cleef emerald brooch, and at least a ring for every finger. Things that don’t matter much to anyone but me,” she added sadly. “Things I wanted to share with people I love when I’m gone.”
His heart hitched a little, not ever remembering her admitting to loving anyone, with the possible exception of George Bucking, who died more than twenty years ago.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “If it’s any consolation, she fooled a lot of people.”
“Nobody fools me.” Her gravelly voice was rich with disdain. “And I think that’s what bothers me the most.”
“Don’t let it,” he said. “You have to move on.”
Her foggy gaze moved toward Darcy, who’d politely backed away from the bed. “I see you have.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Darcy and I are friends.”
She sucked in a breath, too long and too deep, and it made her hack long enough that the nurse came in, shooting Josh a warning look. While she tended to his grandmother, he walked to the other side of the room, where Darcy perched on a settee.
“I hate to say this, but she’s kind of sweet,” she whispered.
“Yeah. I never saw it that way, but…”
“Maybe too sweet, letting non-family members have access to all that jewelry.”
He nodded. “I feel responsible. My mother may have brought Savannah here as a stylist, but I—”
“It was Brea.” Gran’s voice floated over the room, between coughs, proving her judgment skills might be fading, but her hearing sure wasn’t. “She brought Savannah here. Don’t beat yourself up, Joshua.”
Darcy and Josh shared a look as the nurse refilled Gran’s water and nodded to them. “A few more minutes,” the woman said as she walked out. “Bernice needs her sleep.”
Josh ventured back over as Gran settled back on her pillows, her spotted, knotty hands crossed on top of the spread. “Tell me something about her,” she said. “About this new girl of yours. Tell me what you love about her.”
He stood stone-still at the word love, not wanting to correct the old woman, but not exactly sure how to answer the blunt and awkward question. With the truth, as always.
“She has a good heart,” he said. “And she puts family above everything else.”
Behind him, he heard Darcy sigh softly.
“You deserve that,” Gran said as her eyes closed. “I’m tired now. Goodbye, Joshua. Thank you for coming. Thank your friend, too.” She smiled, but didn’t open her eyes. “Goodbye,” she whispered.
He repeated the word and backed away, turning to Darcy.
“Come on.” She slipped her arm through his and gently nudged him to the door. “It’s time to go.”
* * *
To her credit, Darcy didn’t once say I told you so or remind Josh that deep inside his mess of an extended family lived a few decent people. Instead, she held his hand and talked very little as they drove to a much-lower-rent district almost a half hour away.
Nor did she bring up the ugly subject of Savannah and how she’d fooled a lot of people. Instead, she studied the tract homes that all looked essentially the same as when he’d lived here, though the trees were twice as tall. Turning onto his street, he braced for the impact and slowed as they reached 543 Doverdell Drive.
“That’s the house,” he said, yanking her attention back to follow his gaze to a tiny white house with a car port. The shingled roof was torn in places, and some of the siding was lifted. The front porch hadn’t seen a coat of paint in a decade or two, and no one really loved the lawn. The lawn with a red and white For Sale sign stuck in the front.
“Looks pretty much the same, I have to say.”
“It’s…sweet. Like a little kid drew a house with two windows and a blue door.”
He laughed. “It’s a dump, Darcy, but I always loved that house. There are two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. One bathroom and, if it’s still there, a decent-sized deck on the back that my dad built that overlooks a pond that was always stocked with fish.”
“You can buy it, Josh. Remodel it and keep it as a memory of your young, happy childhood.”
He started to laugh as they continued to drive right by the house. “You can’t go back, you know. Haven’t you ever heard that?”
“But you know what a For Sale sign means?” She put her hand on his. “You could probably get in there to see it. Would you like to?”
“What would that accomplish?”
“Closure?” she suggested.
He didn’t answer, but turned the corner, then the next, and then they were back on the street where he grew up, cruising one more time toward the house, this time much slower.
“I memorized the number on the For Sale sign if you change your mind,” she said.
For some reason, the offer got to him. He blinked at her, seeing her profile in stark contrast to the humble house behind her, seeing a woman who knew him, who got him, and who cared deeply for him. A woman he somehow knew he could trust.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, dropping her head back and turning her face to him, giving him yet another view of the present and the past in one glance.
Maybe even the future and the past.
“Nothing’s wrong.” As a matter of fact, everything was unbelievably right. “Why?”
“You’re looking at me like…like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me.”
“I wish he could have met you,” he admitted. “I never knew how much until this minute.”
She took his hand and brought it to her lips. “I want to see this house. Let’s knock on the door.”
He searched her face, considering the idea, almost discarding it, then… “Okay. What do we have to lose?”
“Oh, maybe a couple of those overstuffed bags of old hurts and disappointments you cart around.”
The answer made him smile while he parked on the street, and they went together, hand in hand.
“We’ll say we’re looking for a house?” she asked. “Or is that against your rules?”
“It’s a lie, so, yes, but…it’s moot. There’s a lockbox, so I doubt anyone is here.”
A few minutes later, that was confirmed when no one answered the door. He started to turn back to the truck, but Darcy tugged on his hand and took one step down to the grass. “Let’s look at the back. I want to see that pond.”
“Darcy, I don’t…” Not the pond.
She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t know him, but I want to know about him.”
He took the step and put an arm around her, swallowing hard and realizing he was choked up. “If we get shot for trespassing, it’s your fault.”
“Live dangerously.” She pulled him to the side of the house.
They walked past a hedge and a trash can, reaching the back in less than twenty steps. The back deck was screened in now and completely empty. In fact, when he squinted through the kitchen window, it looked like the whole house was empty.
“Think they’ve moved out?” Darcy asked with a little too much suggestion in her voice.
“We’re not breaking and entering,” he shot back.
“Fun-killer.”
“Anyway, it isn’t the inside of the house that holds memories.” He turned her from the porch to the pond, almost obscured by trees but visible enough to transport him back more than two decades. “They’re right back there.”
“Oh.” She breathed the word and moved toward the trees. “That’s so pretty. That’s North Carolina, right there.” She crossed the grass, and he followed, slipping between two mighty pines that his father had planted for a full view of the water. “It reminds me of Waterford,” she said.
“Yeah, one-half of one percent of Waterford.”
“It’s the vibe.” She turned and
looked up at him. “No wonder you loved it.”
“I loved him,” he said simply. “The place is only as good as the people.”
Holding hands, they walked the rest of the way to the water’s edge. “This isn’t our property, obviously, but the guy who owned it lived way back there, through those woods. He never cared if we fished here. And man, did we fish.”
He reached the spot of grass where he and Pops used to set up camp, spreading their tackle box and rods. “Can’t be, what? Two hundred feet from one side to the other? But it was like living on a great lake to five- and six- and seven-year-old me.”
He stood still, looking out over the water toward the trees, the splash of a catfish transporting him back. He could hear Pops giving fishing instructions and life advice while he tied a red wiggler on his favorite fine-wire hook.
“He used to say a bad day fishing is better than a good day working.” He grinned, remembering Pops’s voice. “And then he’d sigh so loud I swear the fish could hear him. Called it the ‘contented sigh of a fisherman.’”
She wrapped her arm around his waist and let her head fall on his shoulder. “He sounds wonderful.”
“He was.”
He stayed quiet for a long time, letting go of everything but the rush of memories. The time Pops brought a canoe home from one of his trips and they took Roscoe out in it and tipped the whole thing over, discovering that the dog could swim. When they’d come back here at night, Josh was as interested in catching fireflies in a jar as that elusive bass Pops swore was waiting for them.
“I couldn’t come out here after he died,” he admitted. “Not for a long, long time. I had this…this thing in my head that Mom was wrong, that he was on a long driving trip, and any day that rig would pull up to the front, and he’d climb out with his arms loaded with gifts. He always brought me something, usually marbles or baseball cards.”
She tightened her grip, listening.
“When that didn’t happen, I got really mad.”
“Understandable,” Darcy said. “You were what, eight or nine?”
“I took it personally. He left me. He abandoned me. I trusted him not to, but he did anyway. I couldn’t comprehend death at that age.” An old anger welled up, familiar and bitter. “Just as I got used to life without him, I ended up in Bucking hell. God, he would have hated those people.”
“But your mother doesn’t, and she loved him and missed him.”
He nodded, turning from one beautiful view to another—the woman next to him. “I never stopped resenting the Buckings for taking me away from this.” As he said the words, he realized even more. “And I’ve never forgiven my father for leaving and not coming back.”
“You have to,” she said simply. “You’ll never really trust anyone until you forgive him, and her, and them. My mother used to say that without forgiveness, you’re hollow inside.”
He took a slow, deep breath, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her into his chest.
“Like I said, I wish he’d met you. We never once talked about girls, you know, since I was so young. But I know he’d have adored you.”
She looked up. “Because I have a good heart and put family first?” she asked, echoing his answer to Gran.
“Because I adore you,” he said. “And that would have been enough for him.” He lowered his face and kissed her, feeling light for the first time in years, but still weighed down by need.
“I’m buzzing,” she murmured, leaning back.
“I do that to you.”
“And more.” She reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling out her phone to glance at it. “Text from…oh my God, Josh.”
“What?”
“Stella saw light.” She turned the phone so he could read the text from her father.
Stella blinked twice into light. Not again, but we’ll take it. JW says it’s a great sign.
“You know what that means?” she asked.
Oh, yes. He knew exactly what it meant.
“She’ll get her sight back,” Darcy continued, tapping the phone to reply with happy emojis. “She’ll be able to see, Josh. Light is the first step. If she sees light—”
He cut her off with a kiss, sure and deep and long. “Let’s go to my house.”
She broke contact and searched his face, silent.
“It’s about forty-five minutes from here on the Catawba River, and I’d love to take you there.”
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
What? Had she changed her mind? “You still want to wait?” Because he couldn’t.
“Your house, huh?” She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes. “It depends on the landlord. Is he hot?”
Lowering his head, he slid his hand deeper into her silky hair. “Some say so.”
She moaned into the kiss. “Will he break rules?”
“He’s trespassing this very minute.”
“Does he like dogs?”
“What he likes is you.”
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “Take me home, Hot Landlord. Please.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Darcy didn’t know what to expect from Josh’s house, which he’d mentioned in passing, but had never described. Something small and unassuming, of course, simple, masculine, and comforting. It was all those things and so much more.
“Why didn’t you tell me how amazing this place is?”
“I wanted to bring you here instead. Words don’t do it justice.”
No kidding. The A-frame-style wooden home sat nestled among pine trees, a good twenty-minute drive from the closest small town, so deep in the hilly woods, you couldn’t see the house from the winding road that led up to it. He parked in the driveway and led her up at least twenty stairs to a wide deck that surrounded the whole structure.
Inside, one wall was a stone fireplace, and the other three were glass, looking out over a whitewater-tipped river lined with thick green pines and massive birch, oak, and maple trees that probably flamed with color in the fall.
“Oh, Josh.” She sucked in a breath as her gaze drifted from one glorious view to the next. “It’s gorgeous. It might not have the memories of Doverdell Drive, but I can see why you picked this spot.”
“Exactly. I built it myself.”
“Really?” She took a few steps closer to the glass, checking out the spacious deck, grill, and comfy couches under a pergola. “How could you ever leave?”
Behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his hard chest and big body. “Bitter Bark has some beautiful things to see, too.” He dipped his head and lifted her hair to kiss her neck, sending a million chills over her skin. “Anyway, I’m not leaving it forever. I’ll always come here to chill and fish and escape the world.” He slowly turned her to face him, taking her from one breathtaking view to another. “Which is what we’re about to do.”
“Fish?” she teased.
“You already caught me, Darcy Kilcannon.” He lowered his face so their mouths could meet. “Hook, line, and sinker.”
She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, taking a minute to graze the solid biceps and shoulders built for a woman to cling to. As his hands coasted down her back and sides, she sank deeper into him, starving for this time when they were utterly alone, hidden in his secret, private treehouse.
“It’s magical,” she whispered as he trailed kisses along her jaw.
“It gets better.”
She leaned back, knowing they should probably talk, tour, and take their time, but her whole body was vibrating with need, and his seemed to get tauter and harder by the second.
“So will you show me your bedroom?”
He angled his head. “There is a room with a bed, dresser, closet, and bathroom,” he said. “And another for guests, which you are not. But…” Still holding her, he guided them both to the sliding glass door, unlatched it, and dragged it open, filling the room with the heady scent of pine and earth.
“I sleep out here as often
as in there,” he said, drawing her past the sitting area to another section of the deck where a bed-sized chaise perched one level up, offering a commanding, panoramic view. “Let’s watch the sun set over the trees.”
“I’d love that.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said, adding a kiss and easing her to the chaise.
Sighing, giving over to his every suggestion, she settled in. The sunset was in its early stages, starting to kiss the tree line, but low enough for the summer temperatures to have dropped to an inviting level.
Sparks of anticipation flickered over her whole body as she kicked off her shoes and smoothed the cotton maxi dress she’d worn to meet his grandmother. She turned at the sound of Josh’s footsteps to find him crossing the deck carrying a bottle of red wine and two glasses, a throw blanket over his arm.
“Room service,” he teased as he set the bottle and glasses on the table next to her. “Except, I have nothing to eat in this house except stale crackers.”
“I’m not hungry.” Not for food, anyway.
“And you’re probably not cold, either.” He tossed the light blanket to the foot of the chaise and sat on the side, scooting her over. “But you might be both by the time the sun sets.”
He poured two glasses of wine, handing her one, staying seated with his back to the view, facing her. “Here’s to Stella,” he said, raising his glass. “The blind dog who helped me see.”
She tapped his glass and took a deep drink, leaning back to enjoy the gorgeous view of Josh and the trees and…well, mostly Josh. “Speaking of Stella, my dad’s last text was reassuring, don’t you think?”
“Yep. I love that she’s sound asleep in her cradle at Waterford.”
“That we almost forgot to take.” She leaned closer to him. “But you made us go back and get it when we were halfway to Waterford this morning.”
“She can’t sleep anywhere else,” he said with a shrug. “Gotta pamper my girl.”
Her heart dropped a little. “How are you ever going to give her back?”
“We’ll cross that bridge,” he said. “Right now, I won’t give her back. If Savannah showed up and wanted her, I would literally dognap Stella to finish these treatments.”