Defending Hearts (17 page)

“One stalk at a time,” she said in that practical way of hers. “It’s not like they’re all ready on the same day, anyway.”

Hand in hand, they walked between rows of pumpkins. Every so often he’d have to let her go so she could bend down and check a pumpkin or roll one in danger of developing a flat spot, but then she’d straighten and her fingers would thread through his again.

Cocoa had abandoned Ida to join them, and she would run ahead before stopping to sniff thoroughly at anything that caught her attention. Then she’d run ahead again.

It was a beautiful day, and with Gretchen at his side and the dog playing in the sunshine, Alex couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be. For right now, in this moment, he was content.

He leaned over and kissed her, stopping her in
midsentence about the proper way to cut a pumpkin stem. She kissed him back, and then gave him a questioning look when he broke it off. “What was that for?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“No.” After a moment, she smiled and then resumed their stroll through the field. “I guess not. It’s starting to get late. Are you ready to head back?”

“No, but we should, anyway. Ida will be starting supper soon, I imagine.”

They’d hoofed it out to the field, so they had a long walk back to the house ahead of them. Cocoa was slowing down a little, probably ready for a drink, so the three of them went side by side.

“Did you hear back from Kelly’s dad or Jen or about your rough draft?” she asked as they walked.

“Not yet. I just sent it to them.” He’d finally decided it was time to let a fresh set of eyes or two see the story, plus he wanted their approval for the content. “And there’s no rush, since there’s no deadline or anything. The beginning of the school year and football season probably wasn’t the best time to hit them up.”

She laughed, their hands joined and swinging between them. “Not the best timing, I guess.”

“I wish you’d let me put you in the story.”

“I love the picture you took for me to give to Gram. I really do. But I’m not comfortable with the rest of it.”

“I know.” He squeezed her hand. “That’s why I didn’t push harder.”

“Gram loved the picture of her knitting with Cocoa curled up at her feet, though. And the bit you did about her
sweater sets and her pumpkin pie filling. I know her friends will make her feel like a celebrity when everybody finally gets to read it.”

“I’ll make sure, no matter where or how it’s published, that she gets a copy worth showing off.”

He wondered if she would let go of his hand when they neared the tree line that separated the fields from the backyard of the house, but she didn’t. While she still wasn’t one for open displays of affection in front of her grandmother—and probably never would be—she was loosening up.

When they reached the yard, she stopped. “I left some parts soaking in carburetor cleaner. Tell Gram I’ll be in in a few minutes, okay?”

She stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss, and then let go of his hand. He watched her walk away, utterly enjoying the view, and then gestured for Cocoa and continued to the house.

Once he’d refilled the dog’s bowl with fresh cold water and relayed the message to Ida, he went upstairs to wash up and grab his phone. He’d plugged it in to charge earlier, and he was surprised by how often he left it lying around the house now. Not so long ago, it would never have been out of his reach.

After he washed his hands and used a washcloth to clean his face and neck, Alex unplugged his phone and noticed the icons indicating he’d missed a call and whoever it was had left a message.

The missed call was from his agent, and the voice mail was a terse demand to call him back, so Alex hit the call button. “Hey, I got your message.”

“I’ve got good news for you, Alex.”

Good news generally equaled money in his agent’s eyes, which meant work. Work that would mean leaving Stewart Mills. Leaving Gretchen. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to assume they don’t get CNN wherever you are?”

“Of course they do. I’ve just had better things to do than monitor it twenty-four seven. What’s up?”

What was up was a labor dispute growing in Central America that had the potential to change the economic and political landscape of the country involved. “I’ve already heard from three major news outlets asking if you’re there yet, so you’ll be the man if you get there five minutes ago.”

He wasn’t ready. It was too soon to leave Stewart Mills. Saying good-bye to Gretchen would . . . He wasn’t ready.

“Look, Alex. This could be big. You’re familiar with that area and you already know some of the key players. You know how to get access to places and people others can’t. I can get you on an eleven a.m. flight out of Boston tomorrow and your photographs will be the ones going out with the breaking news updates when this thing blows up.”

Almost against his will, Alex felt the thrill of the hunt rising in him. The hunt for the perfect image to tell a story—an image the world would remember a pivotal moment in history by.

“Alex, you know you’ve got to come back at some point. But sure, go ahead and take a few weeks and maybe a cruise line will be looking for somebody to take pictures of happy families going down midship water slides. Or you leave now and remind everybody why the entire world pauses to look when an Alex Murphy shot comes on the screen.”

“Book the flight,” Alex heard himself say, and his stomach tightened. “Email me the details and I’ll be there.”

When he ended the call, he just sat there staring at the phone in his hand. It was the right thing to do. He needed to get back to work and this was just the kind of situation he thrived on. Documenting history. It wasn’t the kind of story any random teenager with a smartphone could tell, the money would be good, and it was the kind of challenge that had always appealed to him.

All he had to do was say good-bye to Gretchen. Turning the phone over and over again in his hand, he tried to picture himself doing that, and it wasn’t easy. He couldn’t draft the right words in his mind. Nor would it be easy leaving Ida and Cocoa behind, but it was Gretchen’s face that stayed front and center in his mind.

He could come back, he thought. There was no reason he couldn’t keep paying rent and, when the story was over, come back to the farm. Sure, the distance from Boston or even Manchester made travel inconvenient, and the Internet wasn’t as fast or reliable as he was used to. And the place in Providence, which
was
convenient and had kick-ass amenities, wasn’t cheap to maintain for no reason.

But the apartment in Rhode Island was missing one thing he wasn’t sure he wanted to make do without anymore, and that was Gretchen.

S
omething was wrong with Alex tonight, and Gretchen sensed it as soon as they gathered in the kitchen for supper. He smiled at them both and laughed when Gram told him a funny story about Cocoa, but he was tense. It showed around his eyes when he looked at her, which was something he seemed to be avoiding.

Gretchen had just taken her last mouthful of pot roast when Gram said she’d gotten a DVD copy of a movie they all wanted to see from the library, and Alex actually flinched. She stared at her plate, slowly and mindlessly chewing the food.

He was leaving.

She’d known from the first time he walked into her house that this moment would come. She’d known it when
he’d kissed her out in the pumpkin patch. And she’d known it when she’d stripped him naked for the first time.

“I got a call from my agent today,” Alex said quietly. “There’s a story brewing in Central America and I’m catching a flight out of Boston tomorrow morning.”

After swallowing, she took a sip of her drink without looking up. For somebody who’d known all along Alex would leave, Gretchen was surprised to find herself so unprepared now that the time had come. It hurt, like a hard kick to the gut, and she was too busy trying to breathe normally to come up with words to say.

“Oh.” Even Gram was struck speechless for a moment, but she rallied faster than Gretchen. “What kind of story?”

Alex started talking, but all Gretchen heard was a blur of words running through her mind. It didn’t matter what kind of story it was. He was leaving and then it would be just her and Gram and Cocoa again.

But it wouldn’t be like it was before. Now she would miss him. She would miss having somebody to curl up with on the couch and somebody to kiss good morning. Somebody to rub her shoulders when she was tense. She’d miss holding hands with him when they went for walks.

She stood, her chair scraping across the hardwood floor, and carried her plate to the sink. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

When she opened the back door, Cocoa came running, even though she wasn’t supposed to be in the kitchen during dinner. After shoving her feet into her shoes, Gretchen motioned for the dog and they went outside.

After breathing in a few gulps of fresh air to shove back the sensation of wanting to cry, Gretchen walked to the
garage and flipped on the lights. Sitting on the stool in front of the workbench, she dumped a coffee can of assorted nuts and bolts and ran her hand over them. Cocoa walked around, sniffing at a few things, before going back out the door to explore the yard.

The sound of Alex’s voice a moment later wasn’t exactly welcome. She wanted to hide in the garage and figure out how to make herself believe she didn’t care if Alex left or not.

“Hey,” he said from the doorway. “Need some help?”

Once she was sure she could face him without tears, she swiveled on the stool to look at him. “Not really. I’m just looking for the extra cotter pins for the snowblower.”

“Of course you don’t need help.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighed. “You don’t need anybody, do you?”

Anger sparked inside her. Was he actually disappointed that she wasn’t crying and wrapping her arms around him, begging him not to go?

That wasn’t going to happen. Her parents had walked away from her and she’d been fine with her grandparents. Gramps had passed away, and she and Gram had been fine with just each other. Alex could walk away and Gretchen would just keep on being fine.

Maybe she wouldn’t be as happy as she thought she’d been before, but she’d be okay.

“Cocoa, come on in here with me,” she heard Gram call, followed a few seconds later by the screen door banging.

Alex stepped into the garage and closed the door behind him. “I’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity, Gretchen.”

“And you’re not an idiot, so you won’t pass it up,” she said, keeping her voice as casual as possible. “You were about done with Stewart Mills, anyway.”

He winced. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Shouldn’t you be packing?” The words sounded cold, even to her, but she didn’t wince. She needed the distance between them.

“I don’t want to leave like this.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Gretchen, I can come back.”

She let herself believe that for a moment. She could almost hear Cocoa’s joyous barking at the sound of his Jeep coming up the driveway and feel Alex embrace her as she threw her arms around his neck.

But she wasn’t stupid. She knew how far off the beaten path Stewart Mills was. She saw how just the drive ate into the time Chase and Kelly had together, and they were doing it on a temporary basis. Long-term, it would be exhausting and inconvenient for Alex’s travel requirements, and over time he’d start complaining. Best-case scenario, he’d try unsuccessfully to get Gretchen to move farther south in New England. Worst case, he’d find reasons to be home less and less often, until he finally stopped coming home altogether.

And if it hurt like this every time he left, she wanted no part of that.

“We had a good time together,” she said in a quiet, calm voice. “We’ll miss having you around, of course. But we’ll probably have rented your room to somebody else by the time you’re done wherever it is you’re going.”

She watched her meaning sink in, and saw the instant he realized she was telling him not to bother coming back.
The sadness dulled his eyes and he gave a quick, sharp shake of his head.

“If that’s how you want it,” he said quietly.

“Sometimes things just are a certain way, whether we want it to be or not.” Gretchen took a deep breath, determined not to break down until he’d gone back inside the house. “I’ll probably be out here for quite a while. I’ve let some stuff slide that I need to take care of.”

He stared at her for what felt like forever, and she wondered if he would push the issue. Push
her
and get her to admit to feelings that wouldn’t change anything. But he didn’t. “Okay. I’m going to go start packing, then. I’m leaving early in the morning.”

“How early?”

“I’ll see you before I go. But I won’t have time to eat breakfast with you. I’ll grab something on the road once I’m closer to Mass.”

She nodded, because she suddenly didn’t have any words to offer. After one last, sad glance, Alex left the garage, closing the door softly behind him just as the first tear rolled down her cheek.

Tomorrow morning she was going to see Alex just like she did every day. But tomorrow he was going to say good-bye and walk out the door. And he wasn’t coming back.

—

A
lex turned onto Eagles Lane and drove slowly up the street to the McDonnells’ house. He parked in the driveway and was getting out when Coach stepped out onto the porch.

“You look wrung out, son, and the day’s barely begun.”

Alex climbed the stairs and took the mug of coffee Coach handed him before taking his place in one of the rockers. “It was tough, saying good-bye.”

That was an understatement. It had been wrenching, and he’d done the leaving as quickly as he could, like ripping off a bandage. Ida had hugged him tightly, tears glistening in her eyes. She’d made him promise to keep in touch, sniffling the entire time.

Even with her emotions shuttered behind that mask of indifference Gretchen clung to, he’d seen her sorrow. She’d kissed him and wished him luck before walking out the back door without looking back. Cocoa had watched him drive away, sitting at the top of the driveway until he couldn’t see her anymore.

Tough
didn’t even begin to describe it. He took a huge gulp of coffee, hoping to scald away the lump in his throat.

“I hope it’s not another decade and a half before we see you again,” Coach said after a few minutes of companionable silence.

It was on the tip of his tongue to assure Coach that wasn’t going to happen, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “I hope not.”

“But no promises?”

Leave it to Coach McDonnell to back him into the corner. “I think it might be hard for a while. To come back, I mean.”

“But not so hard it would be easier to stay?”

“I can’t . . . I don’t . . .” Alex rocked back in the chair, staring out at the trees that lined Eagles Lane, and blew out a long breath. “I can’t pass up this opportunity. And she just . . . I don’t know how to explain it, Coach, but
Gretchen already closed the door on me. She said good-bye and she meant it.”

“She’s a tough nut, that one.” Coach nodded. “She came to Stewart Mills pretty broken, and the man who taught her about family and love . . . well, I admired the hell out of him, but he wasn’t one for sharing emotions.”

“I told her I’d come back, but she made it clear she didn’t see a point.”

“If ever there was a person who believed actions speak louder than words, it’s Gretchen Walker.”

“I have to go,” Alex said, his voice sounding choked to his own ears. “I have a career and even if this was a story I could ignore, I’ve committed to it.”

Coach rocked back in his chair. “Of course you have to go. She’s gotta have a little bend in her, too. What time did you say your flight was?”

“Eleven. I would have been on the five thirty flight, but I’m getting too old for overnight drives.”

“I’m glad you got the later flight so you could stop by.”

“Me, too.” He’d called the night before and Coach had insisted he and Mrs. McDonnell would be awake and wanting to see him at six in the morning. “I’m also glad I came back, even though . . . well, you know.”

When Coach chuckled, Alex glanced over to find the man grinning at him. “I had a conversation pretty similar to this with Chase Sanders not too long ago. He made it almost halfway back to New Jersey before he pulled his head out of his ass and turned around.”

“I don’t think the pilot or my fellow passengers will go along with that.”

“Probably not, but that’s not my point. You keep in mind that once the leaving is done, if you realize you’ve made a mistake, don’t wallow in it. Come back and try to make it right.”

“Shutters,” Alex muttered, almost to himself. “It’s literally like when she sees emotional upset coming, she closes the shutters so the storm can’t touch her.”

“But you’ve seen what’s inside, son. Maybe it’s worth prying them open.” Coach paused, rocking in silence for a few seconds. “I know you’ve gotta do this thing in Central America. Maybe it’ll give you both some time to think.”

In other words, maybe Gretchen would miss him as much as he knew he would miss her.

Alex drained the rest of his coffee and then stood. “I should say good-bye to Mrs. McDonnell. Is she in the kitchen?”

“Of course.” He stood, too, and they went in together.

Coach’s wife kissed his cheek. “I read your paper, and saw the pictures that go with it. It’s a wonderful story, Alex. You really did Stewart Mills proud.”

“Thank you. You know I have you and Coach to thank for that. Not just for encouraging my love of photography, but for loving me when I was pretty hard to love. And teaching me how to love myself.”

“You’ve never been hard to love.” She hugged him. “Keep in touch, Alex.”

He squeezed her. “I will.”

Once he was in the Jeep and headed back down Eagles Lane, Alex took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on the task ahead of him rather than the people he was leaving behind.

He was almost out of town when he saw the blue lights flashing in his rearview mirror. Cursing under his breath, he put on his blinker and pulled to the side of the road. Those damn stop signs.

As luck would have it, Kelly McDonnell got out of the cruiser and walked to his window. He hit the button to lower it as she approached, and gave her a friendly smile, which she returned.

“Going somewhere in a hurry?” she asked.

“Just how many new stop signs are there in this town?”

“We’ll never tell. How do you think we pay for gas and coffee?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I should remember them by now, but I don’t think I’ve come this way but a couple of times since I got here.”

“It’s early, too.” She rested her hand against the Jeep to lean on. “I saw your bags in the back. Leaving town?”

“Noticed those, did you?”

She shrugged. “It’s kind of my job.”

“Yeah, well
my
job beckons. I’ve got an eleven o’clock flight out of Boston and it’s not a fun drive from here, so it was an early morning.”

Kelly nodded, looking like she wanted to say more. Then she sighed. “So . . . after the job?”

“I’ll probably go back to Providence and take care of some business stuff I’ve neglected. Go into New York and have some meetings.”

“Okay.” He could see that she got his meaning. “I know you and Chase have been keeping in touch, so don’t be a stranger.”

She stood straight, but before she could walk away, he
called her name. “Maybe you could give Gretchen a call later? Or stop by and see her? You know how she is. I can’t tell if she’s . . . Maybe you could just give her a call?”

“I’ll stop by when I get a chance. Maybe Jen and I will drag her off the farm for a girls’ night out.”

He nodded, unable to say more, and then returned her wave. After pulling back onto the road, he turned up the radio and—once he was out of the jurisdiction of the Stewart Mills Police Department—put more weight on the gas pedal.

—

“M
en suck,” Kelly shouted vehemently. But then she paused, listing slowly to the left as she looked at the shiny engagement ring on that hand. “Wait. Most men suck. Not all of them. Just some. Okay, fine. Alex Murphy sucks.”

Even though hearing his name hurt, Gretchen laughed as she put out her hand to brace her friend, who’d left the neighborhood of sobriety about two glasses of wine ago. Gretchen and Jen weren’t feeling a lot of pain, either, but they were still managing to sit upright. Or so Gretchen assumed. Jen looked pretty straight.

When Kelly had shown up with a plan to wash Gretchen’s heartbreak away with as much wine as they could drink without throwing up, Gram had put her foot down. It had been a long time since she’d had all three girls under her roof for a sleepover, but if they were going to drink, they’d do it where she could keep an eye on them.