The House on Hancock Hill (27 page)

Something happened around me. A soft breeze picked up, the trees ruffled, and then everything became preternaturally still. Even the ever-chirping crickets quieted. My vision blurred and then an image, like a black and white projection of past over present, came to life. The little wooden dock that was no longer there lilted gently to the left. A fishing line bobbed in the water. Side by side sat man and boy, feet dangling off the edge. An observer, I watched the boy jump to his feet and together, they reeled in a fish. A big one. I remembered that day clearly. Dad had asked me if I wanted to keep it, some sort of walleye he’d have barbecued behind the house, I guessed. As that fish lay there in our palms, drowning on air, I couldn’t do it, and we threw it back.

I’m so proud of you, son.

The wind brought the voice and the present back to me. The water lapped at the bank, crickets and frogs began to vie for loudest drone, a single red leaf drifted down to the ground, and I realized, with a sort of distant fascination, I’d sunk to my knees.

“Dad,” I whispered, “I miss you.” For the first time in nearly twelve years, I talked to him instead of about him. Inside me, a tightly coiled tangle, like a fishing line caught on a branch, snapped. There was no point carrying grudges against the dead. Or the living, for that matter. Dad was gone, and he had cared for me a great deal. He’d given me everything he was capable of giving, and what more can anyone ask of another human being?

When I drove home, it was with the feeling of turning a page in this new story I’d started telling. Next summer, I would fill it with glimpses into the lives of other people who would come to me and my farm to escape, for a little while, their everyday burdens.

O
CTOBER
WAS
unseasonably warm, which was good for me, because that meant the construction crew could keep going. Most of the work that had to be done was inside now, but the land around the buildings was dry, cracked soil and nothing else, which meant that any amount of rain would turn the property into a mud bath. Sod would have to wait until next spring, but on the tenth of October, which happened to be my birthday, I’d have my concrete drive, and that in itself was a source of happiness. It meant I’d be able to drive relatively clean tires into my brand-new three-car garage this winter.

On one such warm day, I fetched Annie on my way from Houghton and showed her around. Since she owned her own B and B in Houghton—even though it was mainly run by a niece now—she gave me some excellent tips, such as what kinds of sheets to buy and how to make one room wheelchair accessible.

“It’s a beautiful place, honey,” she said as we nearly concluded the tour. “But what on earth do you need that heated barn for?”

I stood perplexed, mouth opening and closing like that fish from my memory. “I thought it’d be useful,” I said in the end. Annie’s eyebrow was on the rise.

“Not unless someone plans on bringing their goat.” Her wise eyes were scrutinizing me, drawing conclusions long before me, I was sure.

“Maybe I’ll keep chickens one day. Or a horse of my own.” In an attempt to distract her, I added, “I ran into Caleb yesterday.” Her pursed lips told me she knew exactly what I was up to, but she let me continue. “I had to swing by the pharmacy, and he came out as I went inside. We talked for a bit, and he’s coming to check out the next cupcake class. Maybe you should railroad Ron into going.”

“I’ll make sure Ron is there,” Annie said like the idea of her having to railroad anyone into anything was offensive. “Now show me that basement of yours.”

As if she’d been waiting until I could make no escape, we were driving down Main Street when Annie said, “Henry knows you’re here.”

Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I tried to stop my hands from tightening on the wheel. “Oh?”

For a long time she said nothing, and then there was a soft sigh, right when we turned into her street. I tried not to think it was Wednesday afternoon, that Henry would be at work, his house empty. “I told you not to wait too long, Jason.”

A hundred questions popped into my brain like speech bubbles. How had he found out? How had he reacted? Was he mad at me? And worst of all: did he not give a damn? I killed the engine.

“I hadn’t meant to,” I admitted softly, the truth trickling out like a last gush of blood from a closing wound, “but back in August, I saw him with… someone. It’s better this way.” From somewhere, I dredged up a smile, and Annie leaned across the console to grip my hand fiercely with her bony fingers.

Her eyes brimmed with blue sorrow. “Then I’m sorry, Jason. Truly.”

“I know you are,” I said. “But sometimes it just doesn’t work out the way we want.”

Annie’s eyes grew distant, and I didn’t have to guess who she was thinking about. “No,” she whispered. “Sometimes it doesn’t.”

“It’s okay, though.” I mustered another smile for her. “I didn’t come here to pursue Henry, although maybe that was part of it.” It sure as shit explained why he was on my mind
all the time
. I gave a hollow laugh. “That would explain the heated barn at least.” Had I really expected we’d fall into each other’s arms, he’d move in with me, and we’d live happily ever after with a barn full of rescued animals? Finally honest with myself, I admitted that yes, I had. “I guess it was for Henry, but mostly it was for me. This is the one place I was always happy, where Dad was happy. I want to try and be that again.”

“You will, Jason, honey.” She gentled her grip and then let go. “You will.”

“Thanks, Annie.” She straightened and reached for her handbag and the door. “I’ll see you for cupcakes.”

M
Y
BIRTHDAY
came and went, unnoticed by all apart from Denny and, surprisingly, Daniel, who called—and with it my concrete drive was poured. For some reason, that was what made it all real. Solid evidence of my stay, of my plans and future. I’d shaped one out of nothing before. When peer pressure at Harvard would have me go into brutal business, I’d chosen baking, and this time I chose freedom. I wasn’t afraid of hard work, and by all that was holy, make it work, I would.

Before I could open as a pet-friendly bed-and-breakfast, the place had to go through two inspections, and the preliminary one was set for the day after I’d shown Annie around. Two men were hammering in the kitchen while a whole other crew was painting the guest building. The inspectors—one for the guest side of it, and one for the animals they’d be bringing—were due any minute, and I was unreasonably nervous. So much so I had already checked my pocket for my inhaler twice.

When the knock came and I opened the door, the carefully constructed speech I’d memorized fled my brain like a frightened mouse. Two men, one skinny to the point of skeletal, the other….

“Henry,” I croaked. Oh God. My chest ached, and for a wild moment I thought I was going into full-blown asthma attack mode. I wanted to say,
Oh God, how I missed you. I have never missed anyone as much as I’ve missed you in my life. I’ve missed you like I’d miss a vital organ
.

“Mr. Wood,” Henry said, and I imagined that’s what being dunked into an ice-cold lake felt like. His face was completely blank. Nothing about him was out of place, he looked as composed as ever, but then he’d known he would be seeing me today. It hardly was going to be the shock for him it was to me. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “This is Hector Morgan, the health and safety inspector. Hector, Mr. Wood.”

“Call me Jason,” I managed, holding out a hand. My palm was damp and sticky, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about that. While Hector shook my hand—he didn’t look very much like a Trojan warrior to me—I dared a glance at Henry, but his body language flashed
Keep Out
like a bright neon sign. I wouldn’t be shaking hands with him anytime soon.

“This is just a preinspection, so to speak,” Hector said, releasing my hand, and I automatically stepped aside to let them in. I tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but it was pretty clear I’d be functioning in safe mode until they were gone. “During this visit, we check out things such as fire hazards, layouts, and other potential issues that can still be changed. The real inspection won’t be until you are ready for business, so no need to be nervous.”

I managed, just, not to snort. What did Hector know?

As I led them into what was slowly becoming the kitchen, Hector went on and on about the importance of proper food storage and preparation, cooling and reheating: all things I’d heard before during my inspections of the bakery. A good thing really, because after five minutes of that, it was impossible to keep listening.

Henry looked good on first impression, but when he stared out the French doors leading to where a large deck would be, now the only barrier from a twelve foot drop, I risked closer scrutiny. There were bruised bags under his eyes and a few lines around his mouth that hadn’t been there in February. He’d lost a little weight. Not enough to be really noticeable, but I could see the corded muscles where his forearms stuck out of his rolled-up shirt were more defined. There was something rigid about him, something tightly coiled where before there had been only open friendliness. I had a sinking feeling that was because of me.

As we made our way through the building, it became more and more apparent, to me at least, that Henry was mad. No, he was
furious
. The longer we walked and Hector talked, the harder it was not to look at him. By the time we left the heated barn, I could tell Henry was an inch away from slamming doors.

“Well,” Hector said when we’d circled back to where my drive was being leveled. “So far, everything looks good. I have a few comments to make but nothing major. I will write it all down in a report and mail it to you by the end of the week at the latest. How about you, Henry? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

For the first time, Henry looked me straight in the eye, and his were blazing black. I’d never seen him like this, hadn’t even known it was possible for him to be this angry. “I have nothing to say.”

I could tell it took Hector aback for a second. He blinked and cleared his throat, and then went on talking because he was oblivious, unaware of how those five words made me feel small and insignificant. “Yes, well. Good luck, Mr. Wood,” Hector said, slipping back into formality in the face of Henry’s hostility. “You have a beautiful property here.”

And with that, he followed Henry, who was already striding at a trot full of purpose toward his pickup.

Wrung-out and heart sore, I turned toward the path that led to the canal. One of these days, I was going to stop feeling sorry for myself. Today was not that day. Still, the calm of the water and the huge gray heron standing statue-still at the edge of it did something to ease the hurt. It gave me a chance to think clearly and to wonder what I had done to deserve such treatment. It wasn’t as if I had been ignoring his calls. True, I hadn’t gone to see him, but he was the one who’d made it clear he wanted the clean break. Surely, if someone should come back from that and reach out, it was him wasn’t it? And he’d
known
I was in town for a while at least. It wouldn’t have been that hard for him to find out where I lived. Hell, he could’ve come along with Robby to the site if saying hi was all he wanted. Not that I had any desire to see the two of them being perfect together.

Yes, this was good. Anger and resentment were easier to deal with than hurt, and they’d pass much faster. I hung on to those feelings until the sun began to set and the patch of grass turned cold beneath me. I rose to my feet. There. It was done. I had seen him, he had seen me, and he clearly wished not to again. It was over, and the rest of my life was only a breath away.

T
HE
PROBLEM
with inviting Caleb to Cupcake Tuesday was his very mistaken impression it had been a pick-up line. It took some wrangling from me and strategic plotting from Annie, but between us, we managed to detach Caleb from my side and plop him down next to a faintly bewildered looking Deputy Ron. I bit back a grin when I greeted him, while he sat there, no doubt wondering how he’d ended up in the middle of a class with words like
ganache
and
buttercream icing
written on the blackboard behind me. Then I saw him take in Caleb. A blush began to spread under his skin like red dye in water. The grin threatened to break, so I turned away, but not before I caught Annie’s wink.

I shared my secret to coconut fluff icing, and it turned out Ron had a remarkably steady hand for cake decorating. By the end of the class, Caleb looked just about ready to lick the frosting off Ron’s fingers. As I packed my things away, watching them exchange numbers out of the corner of my eye, I found myself wishing with all my heart and then some, that for them at least, it could be this easy.

As for me, I still wasn’t sleeping enough, or eating enough, but it felt like there was change in the air. Fall was going to come to a premature end, the frost on the grass in the morning proof enough of that, and I found myself waiting for the first snow. As if that would send me full circle and launch me out of the drain of depression I’d been orbiting for almost a year.

With eerie precision, the change did come on the first day of snowfall. The work at Hancock Hill was as done as it could be before winter, which was a relief, because I was rapidly running out of funding. Upstairs, the house was still completely bare, devoid even of flooring, but my kitchen was finished and my guest building furnished. With the equipment I had at the rental house and in storage, I’d be able to open up and feed my guests come spring. In the meantime I’d taken a job at a bakery in Houghton to fatten my bank account a little.

It was two days before Halloween when the first snow fell. After a long shift, I trudged through the grocery store in my snow-covered shoes, gathering ingredients for my dinner that evening. Resigned to facing months and months of this kind of weather and far worse, I turned a corner with my basket and crashed hard into someone standing there.