CHAPTER TWELVE

The Picnic.

The next morning, Cullen pulled the Jeep up to Veronica’s house and saw her sweeping on the long, deep front porch. She turned, surprise in her eyes, and waved to him, possibly wondering what he was doing here so early.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said. Seeing her with a pretty smile on her face made him want to get closer to her.

“Hello, handsome,” Veronica said, mimicking the older lady who’d flirted with him yesterday. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“I think I’m right on time,” he replied, Lulu dancing at his feet.

“This town moves like clockwork, each and every day,” she retorted. “You seem to know the beat.”

“Nice day, isn’t it?” He admired the poinsettias and the simple wreath. “Your home looks a lot different.”

“I’m a lot different from the first time we met,” she said, her gaze moving to the basket he had in one hand. “What’s with the big basket? And do you have chocolate in there?”

“I have all kinds of surprises in this picnic lunch. I told you we’d go on one, remember?”

Veronica’s face took on a panicked paleness. “You are making my life so complicated.”

Cullen tugged her close. “Same here, darling. Same here.”

“What are you really doing?” she asked as she shoved him into the house. “Because it’s not lunchtime.”

Cullen loved seeing her smile. When he’d first run into her on the sidewalk, this woman, beautiful in a fragile, waif-like way, had looked completely drained and lost. He’d seen all the signs. She’d given up on life. He’d lived that same in-limbo spin for a long time too. That one look into each other’s eyes had nailed it for Cullen. He was in way over his head.

Now, she was breathing again, at least. Her smile had returned, and her eyes were bright. The wild hair was subdued but never tamed. She dressed in understated outfits that only made her look like a woman comfortable in her own skin.

But he could see beyond the clothes. Her terror and grief still hovered beyond the rim of the image she presented. The grief connection had brought them together, but faith and fate could keep them close.

“I told you I wanted to have a picnic. With you.”

“And I told you, it’s cold out these days.”

“Bundle up,” he replied. “We’re going for a drive.”

“I have a life, you know. I need to get things done. This house won’t sell itself and my daughter needs a little bit of cheer.”

“I’ll help.”

“It’s laundry and paying bills, scrubbing and rearranging.”

“I’ll help with scrubbing and rearranging.” He touched her arm. “Then I’ll sit and watch you at your desk.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re like an intriguing puzzle that I need to figure out.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, and you’re not going to turn around and go, are you?”

“Not without you.”

Her mirth turned serious. “I might go on a picnic with you.” Then she held up her hand. “But first—”

Oh, she was good. He set the basket down on the counter. “Go on.”

“Will you answer one question?”

“I will.”

“What are your plans for the Hidden Mountain Lodge and Campground? Your real plans?”

“I only want to make the Hidden Mountain Lodge and Campground better than it is right now.”

“I hope you do that,” she said. “But I don’t like the idea of a fancy subdivision on that old mountain road. That involves construction, and that means trees coming down and the mountain being torn up and rearranged.”

He’d considered those things, but not through her eyes. “What would you like to see there?”

“A fresh new lodge with renovated and updated cabins and lots of people. That old place needs a new life with happy, laughing families and in-love young couples and nature lovers. That would help this aged old town. We’d get tourists in during the summer—and for the Christmas festival, to help fill it up again. And the local kids need that place too.”

That hit home. He’d certainly needed that old mountain lodge when he was growing up. A good hiding place at times.

Grinning, he said, “Well, the cynic has certainly changed her tune.”

“I’m still circling around getting my groove back, but . . . your showing up here has changed my life, along with the meltdown and me deciding I had to make amends with Elle. My mother used to say things come in threes. If all of that wasn’t a sure sign, I don’t know what can be.” She stopped, her whole body going rigid. “Now I have to tell my daughter I’m selling this house.”

He had to think this through. He wanted to buy this house, had already talked to his lawyers, and had one of them make an inquiry. This might be the only good thing he’d ever done, coming back here. Veronica, the thorn in his side, the problem in his plan, had given him the best explanation for renovating the Hidden Mountain Lodge and Campground—bringing it back to its former glory and utilizing it commercially to benefit the whole town. Could he tell her he wanted this house and still be able to make that work too?

“Are you sure—about selling? Will that help you restart your life?”

“I need a change, so yes, I’m ready.” She tilted her head, and her hair did the spiraling, wavy fall against her shoulders. “Why me, Cullen? Why are you always coming to see me?”

“I liked you the first time I saw you hurrying out of that boutique. I liked you when I saw you having the meltdown in your car. I liked you the morning I first spotted you trying to avoid everyone. Even before you found that invitation blowing in the wind. I like you even more now because we have a bond of sorts—bad things we can’t let go of.” He stopped, glanced around, and then back to her. “And Veronica, you do need to believe this. Even though I don’t like being alone during Christmas, I don’t like most people.”

Her eyes darkened, and her smile became resolved. “Neither do I, but I’m learning to let that go too,” she said. “We do have a lot in common, after all.”

They drove to the north side of town. Veronica rarely came up here, but she remembered the meandering stream from her high school days.

“Rocky Springs,” she said with a nostalgic bit of huskiness and the familiar burn clutching her throat. “I used to come here when I was young.”

“You’re still young,” he said. “You need to be reminded of that.”

“I’m being reminded of things I’ve tried to forget,” she said. She’d had good times at these shallow streams, and she and Josh had special times here.

“I used to come here too,” he said, throwing her pity party completely up in the air.

“You came to the springs?”

“I did. Usually alone and angry.”

“You’re not making this easy, Cullen.”

“Easy has never been in my vocabulary, luv.”

She knew that term came naturally to him. But it had been so long since she’d thought in terms of love with anyone other than her husband. The way Cullen said it with that lovely accent brought all kinds of warm fuzzies to her heart. She pushed those feelings away. This was only lunch by a stream.

To counter her feelings, she decided to grill him again.

“I’m a logical woman but meeting a man because of a piece of paper flying at my feet—that’s not logical. Going to a party for people who don’t want to celebrate Christmas—and you hand-picking those who showed up—that’s not logical. You always appearing at my door—not so logical.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “And let’s not forget me actually liking the people in the X-Mas Club—and yet not really knowing them well—not logical. I only showed up because I was desperate. My daughter had threatened to cut me out of her life.”

“Are you with me because you’re desperate?” he asked, completely ignoring the other variables of her long-winded rant.

Veronica held to the dashboard of the Jeep as they drove along the winding road curving around the creeks and springs. “I honestly don’t know,” she admitted. “I keep telling myself to ignore you. But again, here I am. Not being logical.”

“Meaning a picnic by a pretty mountain stream?”

“No, meaning you and me, at any time, in any place.” She turned in her seat. “I don’t know you. You have stalking tendencies and you lean toward being mysterious, but you cook like Julia Child, and you sweet-talk with a lot of blarney. You make no sense to me. And me, being here in the dark forest with you, makes no sense to me.”

He stopped by a trailhead. Then he reached over and took her hand. “Put on your hat and forget about logic and making sense for today, okay?”

Veronica shoved her beanie down on her head. “Okay, but only because I want to find out what’s in that basket.”

And she hoped to find out more about him. Was he a magically delicious leprechaun or just a figment of her imagination?

Because if he was the real deal, that scared her more than the other two options.

The wind chilled Veronica, but her puffer jacket and wool beanie held it at bay. Cullen took her hand as they followed the springs, water rushing over rocks like a soothing lullaby. The sun struck a dappled path over the trees and water, making her think she’d fallen into some dark fairy forest.

“We used to wade in the streams and sit on the rocks, eat chips with hotdogs roasted over coals, and play in the water all day.”

“Sounds great.”

“Did you do the same?”

His smile only made him look sad. “Not exactly.”

“Ah. Am I the first person to come here with you?”

He cut his eyes to her. “Yes.”

He had that bad-boy thing working, but he was a grown man. She was in her mid-forties, and he looked about that age or maybe a little older, so this wouldn’t be a playdate. Veronica had to readjust to being a talkative, normal adult. This club stuff moved too fast. This man moved too close. She wasn’t ready to relinquish her self-imposed solitude.

Elle needs you to do this. Use him for practice. That can’t hurt. Now she had to justify being with a man. Maybe because she’d never wanted to be with any man but Josh.

“Thank you,” she finally said. “The sunshine feels wonderful. I’d forgotten how beautiful theses springs are. Just the sound they make is worth the trip.”

He nodded. “Like silky lace slipping across soft skin, they sing a melody of emotions.”

“Ah, he’s also a poet.”

“Nature’s song,” he said. “I do believe the wee people live here and ride the falls on sycamore leaves.”

“Your Irish is showing,” she replied, liking that image.

“I believe in the possibilities of life. That nothing is ever a coincidence. Sometimes we have to go with the unexplained to get things to make sense.”

“No logic today, as you said.”

“No. Today we’ll enjoy faith and fate. Can you do that?”

Veronica stopped and placed a booted foot on a giant, charcoal-colored rock. “I’m going to try,” she said. “I’d almost given up on both.”

“Me too,” he replied, his blue eyes like a dark cave she needed to explore. “Me, too, álainn.”

Veronica held to his hand. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied, interpreting. “Gaelic. Aw-len.”

Veronica smiled, a real smile. The warm sunshine moved across her skin, and something turned over inside her heart. She felt a piercing there, a piercing of light like the rays coming through the deep woods to embrace the age-old trees. A piercing that broke the intense agony of grief, and left it soft and shining and meaningful, but also lighter.

She thought maybe she’d felt the touch of God’s hand again.

Tears came to her eyes.

Cullen stared over at her, dropped the basket, and tugged her close. “You’re safe now, Veronica. Safe. It’s okay. I know you hurt. I know.”

She bobbed her head against his jacket, leaving tear spots on the heavy canvas. Then she lifted her chin, her eyes on him. “No one has ever said that. Once the funerals were over, it seemed people disappeared when I needed them the most.”

“I hope I don’t need to disappear,” he said, his hand on her face, his fingers tracing her tears. “I had planned to disappear, but plans change.”

She blinked, seeing the same mist in his eyes. “Who hurt you, Cullen?”

He shook his head. “For another time, álainn.” Then he gave her a soft peck of a kiss on her cheek, his lips warm and inviting. But they left a deep burn against her skin that picked up where her beam-of-light moment had stopped.

Veronica wondered how much time they had. She’d learned the hard way that time could stop, and dreams could disappear. He said he wasn’t going to disappear, but how could she trust that promise? She couldn’t deal with another heartbreak.

Use these moments, she reminded herself. Use this time to heal, so Elle can get her mother back, stronger, and happy again. You don’t need him to heal you. He’s a wayfarer passing by. You need to heal yourself—with this gift of a second chance.

After reminding herself of that promise, she could handle having a picnic in the forest with a man who was somehow helping her to heal. She’d continue to get better, with or without Cullen Murdock.