“She did. Rumor has it she ran off with one of the groomsmen. But I don’t think that’s what happened.”
“What do you think happened?” I asked.
“I think his mother intervened. That woman always thought there was something off about Miss Burnheart. I think she saved her son from a great deal of grief he would’ve suffered later. Either way, he hasn’t been the same since. Travis, that is.”
“Well, I don’t think anyone can blame him.”
“It wasn’t too long after that he renounced his job in the family business and had that cabin built for him. He built one for all of his children, the head of the Benson clan. Everyone was heartbroken after that wedding. I think he did it partially out of grief.”
My chest ached for Travis. The life he had lived and the things he had endured. I couldn’t imagine being able to fall in love, but to have it ripped from me on such an important date? The thought robbed me of the breath in my lungs. I had no idea why I was so invested in this story or why I cared so much, but I hung onto Miss Mabel’s every word.
“So that’s why I’m shocked. He only comes into town when he needs something and, to my knowledge, he doesn’t talk to anyone,” Mabel said.
“Well, I’m glad he was there. I’m not sure I would’ve survived the storm had he not been,” I said.
“I’m just glad you’re all right, my child. And don’t worry. This fun little encounter will be our little secret.”
Mabel gave me a playful wink b
efore she picked up her cane and left. I watched her walk away as the story spun around in my head. Was what she said true? Had someone really broken that poor man’s heart like that? It would explain why he was such a recluse. But if he was a recluse, then why did he agree to have coffee with me the other day? We talked for the entire afternoon. That wasn’t what recluses did, right?
I wasn’t sure why I cared about any of it. But I knew I was curious.
And I found myself hoping I would run into him again.
Ten
Ava
It was a rainy day in Kettle and I was closed up in my room. My brothers were downstairs talking away with my father while my mother sat and worked on her needlepoint. Fucking needlepoint. Like we lived in the damn thirties. I sat in my room reading a book. Well, a book that was appropriate for a woman to read, according to my father. The classics were his favorite, so we were all well-versed in them. But I had a fun little trick. I would rent out the books I wanted to read alongside the books my father wanted me to read. Then, I would switch the book covers just in case my father barged in without knocking.
Which was always.
The cover said, “To Kill a Mockingbird,” but I was actually reading “The Art Of Public Speaking.” If I wanted to be a businesswoman one day, I had to get comfortable with the idea of talking to a room full of people. And with a father who expected me to stand in a corner and not speak until spoken to, public speaking wasn’t something I practiced on a regular basis. I devoured Dale Carnegie’s books. I thought he had a lot of valuable information for me to learn. But I had to be careful about when I read my books. I kept a book light stored underneath my mattress so I could read well after my parents had gone to bed.
Which meant I was taking a grave chance reading this book in the middle of the day.
“Ava! Sweetheart! Could you come downstairs!?”
I heard my mother’s voice waft up the stairs as I dropped my book in my lap. I opened up the secret compartment in my bedside table and shoved my book in there. I smoothed my dress out with my hands and tried to look appropriate before I started for the stairs, but my heart pounded in my chest. My brothers told me they would talk to my father eventually, but had they already done it? Was this why I had been beckoned?
Had they convinced my father that I didn’t have to marry?
I saw my brothers sitting around, but their faces were blank. I couldn’t get a read on them and that worried me. Finn shot me a comforting grin while Lorenzo nodded his head, but Hunter was still fuming. I could see it behind his eyes.
“Sit,” my father said.
I went over to my chair in the room and sat down with my back straight. I crossed my legs at my ankles and folded my hands together. I looked up at him as he raked his eyes over me, taking in my obedient form before he nodded in approval. Like he was prepared for me to do something wrong before he could grace me with his voice.
“Your brothers and I have been… talking,” my father said.
“Oh?” I asked.
“Just listen,” he said.
I nodded and bowed my eyes to my lap as I squeezed my hands for comfort.
“It has come to my attention that this Timothy Wells might not be all he claims to be,” my father said.