And then he stopped. The absence of his kisses drew a moan from deep within her.
His stubbled cheek rested against her smooth one. He spoke with aching tenderness. “Emma.”
Her grip slipped. And she was lost.
* * *
W
ILL
LEANED
AGAINST
the wall of the barn, cradling Emma in his arms as he watched the moon rise above the crown of her dark hair.
She turned and lifted her face. “One last kiss.”
Will couldn’t resist. One last kiss to end a perfect evening.
Emma arched against him; her lips claimed his, her hunger met his need.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
Will pressed her closer, deepened the kiss. Together their bodies generated enough heat to cocoon them from the nip of the brisk night air.
“One last kiss,” Emma murmured against his mouth.
The way she said it, as if this was goodbye, had Will pulling back. “I’ll walk you home.”
She covered his lips with her fingers before he could say any more. “No. Here at the barn, it’s only the two of us, without pasts, without futures. I know you can’t forgive me and I don’t expect you to. But out there—” she sighed “—out there, we have baggage and responsibilities, to ourselves as well as to others. I knew when I turned around that you and I only had this one moment.”
Her words created a void in his chest where his heart used to be. “Don’t say that.”
She stared at him expectantly. “Does that mean...?”
He hadn’t forgiven her and he was sure she could see it in his face. He’d hoped they could forget about it, put the issue in a corner and not discuss it. He was stupid and naive, but he’d been hopeful that the attraction between them would make her forget.
The evening chill nipped at him. “But Emma, we can—”
“No. We can’t.” Emma stiffened, then pushed her way free of his arms. Her eyes were filled with hurt. In his need to hold her, he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Her pain seeped into him, making him feel emptier than before. “I can’t. I have more respect for myself than that. You should never have promised to kiss me. You should never have asked me to turn around.”
He reached for her, but she backed away. What was he going to do? He knew the texture of her skin, the taste of her mouth, the urgency of her embrace. He knew when something would make her laugh. Keeping his distance, pretending he didn’t know those things about her would be agony.
“You can forgive Mildred a deliberate mistake that almost cost me my life and yours, but you can’t forgive me an
accident.
” It wasn’t a question.
“I can’t. I told you.” Despite what his father had said, despite how much he wanted to. Anger and frustration pierced him, prodding words he didn’t want to say. “And you don’t forgive yourself, either. It’s why you can’t paint.”
“True,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to her hands. And then she raised her chin, raised her liquid gaze to meet his. “Promise me...” Emma winced, swallowed. Started again. “Promise me you’ll never look at me like you want to hold me. Promise me you’ll never touch me like you have tonight. And promise me you’ll never kiss me again.”
The weight of her request clawed at him, threatening to bring him to his knees. How could that be? He liked Emma. He wanted Emma. But he didn’t understand the meaning of those powerful emotions.
“You owe me that much. I know you’ll honor a promise.” Her eyes were luminous in the moonlight.
The words she wanted to hear hung bitterly on his lips, reluctant to take form.
In the end, he could only nod his head.
* * *
R
OSE
WAS
WAITING
for Emma on the porch swing. She had a piece of paper in her hand that looked like a letter and a grim set to her mouth that didn’t bode well for a man who’d been making out with her granddaughter twenty minutes ago.
He’d insisted on walking Emma home. She’d kept a half step ahead of him the entire time. Their time, their moment, was over. Will felt broken and numb. He wanted to gather her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But he couldn’t promise her anything.
“There you are.” Rose stood, still gripping the paper. “I should have known you’d be with him after receiving this.”
“What is it?” Emma trotted up the stairs. Will admired her concern for her grandmother’s well-being. It matched his for Tracy.
“Someone—” Rose’s stare was icy “—requested an arborist’s report on the oak tree in the town square. I’m sure the big corporation that’s going to give Will his next few millions doesn’t like oak trees.”
“It wasn’t me.” Will climbed the stairs, holding up his hands.
“What does it say?” Emma reached for the report, but Rose yanked it away.
“It says my tree has a fungus.” Rose peered at the page. “
Anthracnose
. What does it matter what it’s called? It’s obviously Latin for death.” She clutched the page to her breast in a dramatic turn worthy of a stage production. Then Will came into her line of vision and she drew herself up like an avenging goddess. “You killed my tree. You killed it so you could put your
hot spot
there.”
“Granny Rose, you know that’s not true. People don’t infect trees with fungus. And besides, Will’s changed the plans so that the communications tower will go on Parish Hill.”
For a moment, Rose seemed to drift back into reality. She blinked, casting her gaze about the worn porch floorboards.
“May I see it?” Will reached for the paper. “There might be something on there that tells us who requested the test.”
Fury flared in Rose’s eyes. “Don’t you touch it. Don’t you touch it or my tree.”
“It’s okay, Granny,” Emma said softly. “Give me the report. Please.”
Rose handed over the page.
“Come inside.” Emma took her grandmother’s arm. “We’ll put on
South Pacific.
Bali Hai is calling.”
“Is the computer nerd coming inside?” Rose glanced up at Will as if he were an ogre.
“No. He’s going home to Ben and Tracy,” Emma said, pain lacing her words.
She’d done nothing to earn such pain. Emma was right. He had to stay away or risk hurting her even more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“G
RANNY
R
OSE
?” I
T
was an hour past sunrise when Emma trudged downstairs the next morning. Her footsteps echoed hollowly on the wood floor, as hollow as she felt inside.
Last night she’d fallen in love. She’d tiptoed around the feeling for years, always finding excuses not to fall, finding other men wanting. Then along came Will, reminding her of her hero-worshipping crush and brushing aside her common sense. Will had pushed her off the edge of reason with the same calculated zeal he approached everything else. She’d taken the plunge toward love, but she’d taken it alone.
It was her own fault for not being strong. But he’d been too much of a temptation. And then he couldn’t even lie to her!
She’d wanted to double over. She’d wanted to crawl off into the darkness. Instead, she’d demanded he promise to leave her alone. Will kept his promises. Always.
But just in case, she was calling in reinforcements. She needed her mother here to take care of Granny Rose so she could leave Harmony Valley and Will behind.
Before she’d gone to bed last night, Emma had made sure Granny went to her room, lending her a paperback romance she was reading. Then she’d dragged herself upstairs, forcing herself to attack a canvas with harsh, raw colors on a too-wide brush. Ping had watched her critically, as silent as the missing soundtrack in her head. She’d told him if she was going to be heartbroken, she was determined to conquer the shakes and the uncertainty. In the end, she’d conquered nothing and fallen asleep with Ping curled against her side.
It was the wrong solution for the wrong problem. The story of Emma’s life lately. Will was right. Just because she knew she had to forgive herself for the accident didn’t mean she could do it.
This morning, there was no coffee brewing. No bustle of activity. No to-do list on the kitchen table.
“Granny Rose?”
Silence.
“Granny?” Emma headed toward the first floor bedroom. She knocked. When she received no answer, she pushed the door open slowly, trying to respect her grandmother’s privacy. “Granny?”
The room was empty. Her grandmother’s bed was made. The romance novel was on the quilt where Emma had left it. Granny’s work boots weren’t paired neatly in front of the closet. Emma called louder, moved faster. A check of the bathroom revealed her towels were dry. Granny Rose hadn’t showered this morning. Emma ran to the front door. Her grandmother’s coat was missing from its hook.
Emma breathed in guilt-laden, panicked gasps. She’d tried painting again. And again, disaster. But she had to think, not feel sorry for herself. Her grandmother needed her.
Maybe Granny Rose had gone out. She was a notorious early bird and kept up an active schedule. She could have slept in or decided not to shower this morning.
Granny Rose left without her coffee? Not likely.
What if she’d left the house after Emma had said good-night?
With trembling fingers, Emma called Agnes and confirmed that her grandmother hadn’t come by or spent the night.
By now, Emma’s entire body was shaking. She ran toward the town square, rounded the corner of El Rosal and stopped. The town was empty. Her grandmother wasn’t handcuffed under the oak tree. Emma hadn’t realized how much she’d been counting on that possibility.
She ran over to the ancient tree and looked into its branches. After all, her grandmother had been a trapeze artist. It was possible. But the tree was empty.
A noise from the north end of the square had Emma turning.
Will jogged along East Street on nearly silent feet.
Emotions and powerful physical sensations washed over Emma. The strength of his arms around her. The heat of his lips on hers. And the agonizing disappointment.
Emma couldn’t deal with him now. She had to think of Granny Rose. Or
like
Granny Rose. Her grandmother was convinced Will wanted to sell out the town and she knew all Will’s hopes rode on their float.
Understanding dawned. Spinning away, Emma jogged quickly across the square in the opposite direction from Will and Parish Hill.
“Emma?”
She sprinted down Main Street. Past Snarky Sam’s. She ran despite the stitch in her side and the choking sob in her throat. Cutting over on Jefferson she continued until she was at the turn into the gravel driveway to the Henderson property. From there, she could see the barn doors were open.
Emma ran faster.
The closer she got to the barn, the more of the float she could see. The cardboard buildings were crushed. The gallon containers with corn and grapevines had been tipped over, dirt spilling onto the ground. And at the far end of the float, the red barn that represented the winery was demolished. A pair of spindly human legs hung over the edge, unmoving.
“Granny Rose!” Emma faltered. Her breath hitched.
Will sprinted past.
Her grandmother hadn’t come home last night. Was she dead?
Emma slowed to a walk, hugging herself in an attempt to keep it together. Despite what happened between them last night, Emma was grateful Will was there.
By the time she reached the float, Will was standing on it, leaning over Granny Rose. “She’s alive and breathing, but I think she hit her head.”
Emma climbed up next to him, her own legs threatening to buckle.
“Don’t panic.” Will steadied Emma. “There’s blood, but her pulse is strong.”
Her grandmother was bent at the middle like a broken matchstick, her head on one wooden frame, knees over the other. Blood stained one shoulder of her blue windbreaker and the wood beneath her neck. Her white hair was in disarray.
“Granny, are you okay?” Emma placed her hands on her grandmother’s cheeks. Her skin was soft, yet chilled by the morning air, sprinkled with the scent of rose water and blood. She pulled off her thin pink jacket and draped it over Granny Rose’s torso.
“Don’t move her,” Will cautioned. “She may have injured her neck or back.”
“She needs an ambulance.” And it would take at least thirty minutes for one to arrive from Cloverdale. Emma felt sick.
“Your house is closer,” Will said. “Go. Call.”
She shook her head. “Run to my house. If she comes to, the sight of your face will upset her.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Will nodded. “But sit down, before you keel over, too.”
Emma’s knees folded beneath her quickly. “Hurry.”
The wait for the ambulance was excruciating. Emma kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation, holding Granny Rose’s cold hand, her gaze never leaving her face. Her grandmother looked peaceful, as if she was sleeping. Or not.
Terror vibrated through Emma’s body in convulsive tremors that kept her upright. All the while, her brain kept repeating:
my fault, my fault, my fault.
She’d never paint again. She’d never so much as try.
Will returned, keeping silent watch at the door.
A siren finally sounded in the distance. The louder it got, the more Emma felt as if the tension in her body would break her into pieces.
As the ambulance pulled in front of the barn, Granny Rose blinked her eyes open. “Emma? Where am I?”
Relief softened her grip on her grandmother’s hand. “You’re safe.”
Granny Rose squirmed.
“Stay still,” Emma ordered. “You’ve had a fall, and we need to make sure you’re all right before you move.”
Flynn and Slade appeared, right on time to finish working on the float. They surveyed the damage without a word. Will pulled them aside and explained what had happened.
Tracy showed up, took one look at Granny Rose’s blood and retreated to the door of the barn, crossing her arms and staring down the driveway.
The emergency crew seemed to take forever to amble over, asking for her grandmother’s name and a situation update. There were two men. One looked like he’d graduated early from high school and the other looked like he was ready for retirement. Both frowned when Emma couldn’t tell them how long Granny Rose had been lying there.
The older EMT did all the talking. “Rose, how many fingers am I holding up?”
“You’re giving me the Boy Scout pledge.”
Emma patted the back of her grandmother’s cold hand. He was indeed holding up three fingers.
“What year is it?”
Granny Rose told him.
“Who’s the president?”
Granny Rose answered correctly.
“Can you feel me squeezing your toes?”
“I think you’re impertinent. The last person to touch my tootsies was my husband.”
“But can you feel me squeezing?”
“Yes.” Granny Rose kicked out the foot he was holding. “I’d like to get up now. I’m not sure how I got here, but I’d like to start my day. I have a dress rehearsal of
The Music Man
before lunch.”
“Ma’am, I need you to hold still.”
“I said—”
“Ma’am, we’ll get you out of here as quickly as we can, but your safety is our first concern. I see nails and sharp wood splinters. You don’t want to be cut, do you?”
“No,” Granny Rose grumbled.
It took a few more minutes for them to determine her grandmother could be moved. They put a brace on her neck as a precaution before they lifted her onto a stretcher and loaded her into the back of the ambulance.
When Emma started to climb in with her, the older tech stopped her. “No one’s allowed to ride with us, ma’am.”
“But she’s my grandmother.”
“It’s policy. We’re taking her to the Healdsburg District Hospital. If you check in at the emergency room desk when you arrive, they’ll take you to her.”
They started an IV on Granny Rose and then drove off.
Emma turned around to face everyone and the devastation her grandmother had caused. Granny Rose had sabotaged the best chance for a stable future the town had.
“This is my fault. I should have heard her leave last night.” Somehow, Emma managed to hold her head up, but she couldn’t look at Will. “I’ve let you all down. Since the accident I’ve been of little use to anyone. And whenever I try to paint or sketch someone gets hurt. I hurt Tracy and I haven’t been able to take care of my grandmother. I don’t know who I am or where I fit in. I’m just so...lost.”
No one looked her in the eye.
Not even Will when he weakly tried to argue. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for something Rose did.”
Emma swallowed back tears. Tears would help no one. “But I do. The float is ruined. There’s no way we can recreate it in time for the festival.” She hauled in air. “A few weeks ago, I couldn’t believe anyone would feel so low they’d call themselves worthless. But that’s how I feel. Worthless.”
* * *
F
LYNN
KICKED
AT
a torn piece of cardboard. Slade stroked his gray tie.
Will registered the pain on Emma’s face, but it was a distant feeling. His chance to speak to the entire town and convince them that this new vision of Harmony Valley was good for everyone had been lost. Frustration built like a firestorm in his gut, burning away any hope he’d felt these past few weeks.
“We can rebuild,” Flynn said optimistically, righting a planter with a grapevine in it.
“No,” Will said. “There’s no point trying to fix anything. Rose demolished any hope we had.” The fire inside raged, demanding someone suffer as much as he was. He met Emma’s gaze. “It was all a dream, like one of those dandelion wishes kids make that never come true.”
Choking back a sob, Emma ran out of the barn.
“Dude, that’s harsh.” Flynn frowned.
The lid on Will’s temper blew. “I may be a control freak, but I’m a realist. I know when to cut my losses. I can’t fix this any more than I can fix Tracy.”
Tracy gasped and stalked out.
Will bit back a curse.
“I know this is a surprise, coming from me,” Slade said, “but I stand with Flynn. We can rebuild. But we’ll need to duct tape your mouth shut, because if you start in on me or Flynn, like you did with the girls, we’re gone.”
“What’s the point of rebuilding?” Will gestured to the destruction in front of him. “Tracy doesn’t want anything to do with the winery. Maybe it was stupid for me to think I could create a life for her here. Half the town hates the idea. How many more setbacks do we need before we realize this wasn’t meant to be? It’s time we turned our attention to developing our next app. We can brainstorm ideas this afternoon.” When Will didn’t feel as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.
He’d driven away the two women who were most important to him in the world. The only thing left to do was move on.
* * *
“R
OSE
LOOKS
GOOD
,” Mildred said, wheeling her walker down the hospital hallway next to Emma and Agnes. “And she’s in good spirits.”
“She won’t be once she realizes they shaved off her hair in back,” Agnes said, touching her pixie cut. “She was awfully proud of that hair.”
“I bet we can get Phil to shave off the rest of it. Then Rose would look like one of those punk rockers.” Mildred paused to let an attendant with a wheelchair move past them.
“Even if she let Phil near her hair, she won’t be happy about it.” Agnes waved to a nurse behind a counter. “Nor will she be happy that we’re suspending her from the town council, at least until her doctor approves her for activity again.”
“Do you have to do that?” Emma asked. “It’s so important to her.”
Agnes nodded.
“Every time I think of her outside all night I feel sick.” If Emma had needed any more proof as to why she couldn’t have both an artist’s career and a family, she’d gotten it.
Mildred stopped wheeling and looked squarely at Emma. “It wasn’t your fault. If anything, we’re to blame. We’ve seen the signs for some time, but we didn’t want to mention it to her or to your family.”
“No, it’s my fault,” Emma persisted. “She’s always been there for me and last night...last night Will walked me home and she didn’t like it. I knew she’d focused her fears on Will and still I let him walk me home.” Because she’d been hopeful that he’d change his mind. She should have known better.