Someone cleared his throat. I turned, startled, to see a man just inside the front door. Inside, but not moving forward. I was acutely aware I was totally alone here at the moment—well, except for this man. He made me instantly uneasy.
Dell’s Diner. It had been more than a month. I’d seen him from the back and could hardly get out of there fast enough.
Years had passed since I’d seen this man face-to-face. He was older than me, and I hadn’t been around him much back then. But I knew.
And I knew for sure that fate had put the final piece into play. That shimmery feeling was back in my chest. I fought not to cross my arms but lost the battle.
Liam Bridger.
He was a tall man with curly, unruly hair that needed a cut. He wore an oft-washed cotton shirt and jeans. His boots looked well worn, too. Other than the dark hair, which more than half the people on the planet had, there was nothing of Ellen in his appearance.
“You’re Hannah Cooper, right?”
“I am.”
“I’m Liam Bridger. I’m sure you don’t recognize me.”
I nodded. “I do. Or, rather, I was pretty sure. It has been a while. Years, actually.”
“Yes, it has. I moved back a few weeks ago.”
I tried to match his demeanor. “Welcome home. I spoke with your cousin, Mamie Cheatham, not too long ago. How long do you plan to stay? Or is this a . . .” I fumbled for a word. “Permanent return home?”
“For now. Beyond that, I’m not sure.” He smiled, but only slightly. “Actually, I was looking for Roger Westray. His office said he might be here.”
“I haven’t seen him today.”
He looked around again, up at the rafters, at the one-room framing that allowed the full view from one end to the other. “This is nice. I remember the cabin. Sorry about your grandparents and the house fire.”
“Times change. Nothing lasts forever.”
“I heard about the fire. Long after, that is. Many times I expected to get word that our own homeplace had fallen in or caught fire or something. Mamie has done a good job with it. The house is as stubborn as the Bridgers themselves, I guess.”
“No interest in restoring it?”
“Takes money. Takes interest, too. Not sure I have enough of either.” He nodded. “Well, anyway, sorry to have bothered you. I’ll be on my way. If you see Mr. Westray, would you let him know I was here looking for him?”
“Sure.” I couldn’t resist. “Have you worked for him before? Or are you old friends?”
“No. I do construction work. Some specialty projects.”
“I see.”
“Looks good in here, I think.”
“It does. Roger said he’d clean it up for me.” I laughed politely. “I guess he did.”
“Roger told me not to make any changes but to clear it out and make note of any bad wood or crumbling chinking.”
I stopped and did a quick rethink. “You cleaned it up?”
“Yes. I was careful, especially with the pots and little sculptures. They’re really good.”
I felt like something was trying to communicate itself to me—but I was closed off and didn’t want to receive it. Liam, or the miasma around Liam, was telling me more than I could bear to hear. I tried to sound civilized and reasonable.
“Thanks. They’re old pieces. It takes me back to my childhood to see them. Happy memories. The place looks good.”
“Thanks.” He kind of half smiled. “That old treadle wheel? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that old. Weighs a ton. I left it in the corner rather than risk it pulling apart. If you want to move it—”
“No, that’s fine. It was my grandmother’s. Rather, her mother’s. Grand surprised me with the motorized wheel when he set up the cabin for me to do my clay work. He bought it secondhand from a clay shop that was going out of business.” I brushed my hair back behind my ear. “I moved that one to the shop in town after we got settled in Mineral . . . after the fire. Along with the kiln and other stuff.”
He seemed very meek. My recollection of him was of someone brash and rowdy. Wild. Had problems. Nothing I knew about personally. It was probably what I’d heard my grandparents say, and even Mr. Bridger.
“Hannah?”
Roger was suddenly there at the cabin door, filling the doorway behind Liam.
Liam backed aside and nodded toward Roger.
Roger was clearly surprised to see me there, and he said, “I saw your car, Hannah, and a truck, too. I wondered who else was here.” He took a quick look at my face, reading it, I thought, then he said, “Liam is our wood expert. He’s checking on the wood we’ll use for the porch, and I asked him to give the cabin a once-over.” He turned to Liam. “How’s it looking in here?”
“Good. Cabin’s sound. I found a couple of places on the exterior, the shady side, but minor. I’ll take care of them.”
Roger nodded. “Right.” He looked at me. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “It’s never looked this good. I don’t recognize the chair, though.”
“Oh.” Roger laughed. “I hope you don’t mind. I came by it secondhand. Thought it would be useful out here.”
“It’s perfect.” I wanted to hug him but felt constrained with Liam there. I didn’t think Roger would’ve minded a public display of affection. It was just me.
“Glad you like it. Hannah, do you mind if we move on? Liam is an expert on old buildings and specialized carpentry. I wanted to go look over the springhouse with him.”
“Mind?” I laughed. “No, indeed. You weren’t expecting me to be here anyway. I dropped by on impulse.”
He walked over to me and touched my arms. “Then it’s my lucky day.”
“Mine, I think. Don’t let me get in the way. I’m daydreaming here.”
“The cabin won’t have power or water for a while yet. I have some ideas, too, about setting up the kiln and equipment that I’d like to discuss with you.”
His tone sounded far more tender than the literal meaning of the words, and I was conscious that our sweet little exchange was onstage and happening in front of Liam.
“I’m looking forward to it. Please carry on.”
Roger dropped his hands, saying, “I’ll see you later,” and stepped away. He nodded toward Liam. “Over this way. Did you take a look at it yet?”
He and Liam walked out beyond the end of the swale and doubled back to the bridge to cross the creek to the springhouse. Our plans for the front of the house depended on being able to utilize the wood from it. I hoped it was in better shape than it looked.
I turned and went back into the cabin. I took one more look at the shelves, at the swept hearth and the glazed pieces on the mantel. Above the mantel, on a hook that had been empty for years, hung an old picture. I could only guess that Liam had found it amid the junk stored in the corners or in the loft. It was a piece of battered tin, but not randomly or accidentally battered. The marks and dents and hole punches were precise. As I stared at it, the marks and shapes merged into a picture—a landscape. The creek. The trees. It showed the springhouse at one end and the cabin at the other.
It was a thoughtful touch to hang it here.
I went to the window and looked outside. Roger and Liam were still down at the spring, barely visible through the trees from this angle.