Wood You Knot, page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Copyright 2023 © J.C. Hannigan
http://jchannigan.com
Editors: Brooklyn Marie (Brazen Hearts Author Services), Karen Hrdlicka (Barren Acres Editing)
Cover Designer: Mignon Mykel (Oh So Novel)
Formatting: Heritage Creek Formatting
ISBN 978-1-989124-19-2 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-989124-20-8 (ebook)
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Playlist
About the Author
Other Books by J.C. Hannigan
This book is dedicated to Granny Good Witch.
I love you, always and forever.
You created an entire legacy of love and laughter for us…
I am forever grateful for your magical light.
Chapter One
Sage
The closer I got to Hartwood Creek, the farther away my problems seemed, and the easier it was to breathe again. Perhaps it was the fresh, woodsy air from the forest and the heady scent of Lake Hartwood that helped revive me.
Putting the miles between me and my ex-fiancé, Warren Davidson, was certainly helping ease my fractured heart—and confidence. With each town I drove through, I felt more and more myself and less like the person I’d slipped into when with him.
The pang of bitterness grasped firmly around my heart at the very thought of Warren, and I did my best to push it away, opting to draw in a breath of the crisp air coming through my open car windows. But try as I might, escaping my failings was still a challenge.
I had the worst luck when it came to men. My biological father died before I was born, so I never knew him, and my daughter’s father hadn’t stuck around. He’d never wanted to be a part of Daphne’s life and had tried to insist I “get rid of the problem.” Daphne’s father had a hockey scholarship and no desire to be a father.
But from the moment I found out about her, I wanted to keep her. I wanted to raise her with all the love and affection I didn’t get, regardless of whether her bio dad wanted to participate.
I didn’t harbour any resentment toward him for it. If anything, I was thankful I didn’t have to worry about co-parenting with someone who had the emotional maturity of a squash. If Derrick’s escapades since getting drafted were any indication, Daphne and I both dodged a bullet there.
For years, I’d lived the single-mom life happily. Just me and Daphne, no man required. I tolerated living with my mother long enough to find a stable job, daycare, and a place of our own just before Daphne’s second birthday. Then, it was just Daphne and me.
Until Warren walked into our lives…
I’d thought I had finally gotten it right with him, but what a disaster that turned out to be.
I met Warren when Daphne was three and a half. He worked a block away from the café, and he would always flirt with me when he came in. He tipped well, and he took his time asking me out, but when he finally did…I didn’t hesitate.
I couldn’t help but think back to the early days, picking them apart with the hindsight of the present time. I’d thought Warren was so charming and magnetic; he’d said and done everything right to win my heart. He really had me fooled, thinking he was a good, genuine guy. A family man.
I thought he was a total catch. He was good-looking and had a great job. He worked upper level in the finance department, wore suits, and styled his hair…I didn’t have to remind him to shower or shave. He cared about the image he portrayed to the world, and I thought that meant he cared about me.
I thought we were building something special, but the whole time, the jerk had been micromanaging every aspect of my life while also shacking up with his secretary, and what a cliché he’d turned out to be.
I was sick of clichés, and right now, it was hard not to feel like one myself. Single mom, on her own—again.
“How much longer?” my six-year-old daughter asked, raising her voice to be heard over the music. I turned it down before replying. According to my GPS, we were less than ten minutes out from crossing the town border.
“We’re almost there,” I said, making eye contact with Daphne in the rear-view mirror. I found a smile for my daughter. She truly was the one good thing in my life—my sole purpose for trying to do and be better. I didn’t want her to feel like she had to settle for a man who didn’t love her and tried to control every aspect of her, just so she wouldn’t be alone. “About ten more minutes, then we’ll be at our new home.”
Daphne’s big green eyes seemed to see straight into my soul. She wasn’t happy about all the changes. In fact, she was downright angry about them. She didn’t understand why the relationship between Warren and I had dissipated so quickly because I refused to go into detail on what actually happened. A six-year-old wouldn’t understand such a thing as cheating. All Daphne knew was it was over, and we were moving on.
Daphne wanted to stay in Guelph, but I couldn’t find an affordable place for us on my barista job wages. Daphne’s solution was for me to forgive Warren so we could keep living with him.
It was bad enough my mother thought I should forgive Warren; I didn’t need my daughter echoing that sentiment. The way my mother saw it, Warren had proven he’d take care of me and Daphne. Men were dogs, but Warren was rich. She thought I ought to forgive Warren’s “extracurricular activities” for the security he could provide us. My mother was superficial, and that was putting it kindly.
Even worse, Warren had believed I’d forgive him. That I’d overlook his indiscretions because “he really loved me, and we had a good life together.”
I would rather be on my own and broke as a joke than be tied to a man who couldn’t be faithful to me.
This opportunity to work at my aunt and uncle’s hardware store and live in the apartments above was a well-timed miracle because, after two weeks of staying with my mother, I was ready to burst with frustration. I couldn’t handle her superficial, materialistic nature any longer, and the thinly veiled insults were not something I wanted my daughter to continue to overhear.
Small doses of my mother were key to maintaining a distant and slightly healthier relationship. Elouise Whitaker was used to living on her own selfish terms, and I’d long since learned she wouldn’t be the kind of mother to wipe my tears or help me heal a broken heart.
No, she’d just look me dead in the eyes and tell me the ways I’d messed up. By not quitting my barista job when Warren heavily suggested it because it made him feel “less manly” that I wanted to keep my paying job. By not “doing enough” in the bedroom to keep his attention. The list was endless, and she’d said it all with little regard to the small ears listening in.
“I don’t want it to be our new home. I miss my school and my friends.” Daphne crossed her arms and pouted, glaring out the window at the scenery as if it were to blame. “Why can’t we live with Warren anymore?”
It wasn’t the first time Daphne asked that question, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. I chewed on my bottom lip, deliberating. “Remember how I’m always talking about how important it is to be honest?” I asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror at my daughter. Daphne reluctantly nodded. “Warren was dishonest, Daph. He broke my trust.”
“Well, you can forgive him, can’t you? Mimi says you should. Forgiveness is important,” Daphne said with all the stubborn willfulness she possessed. She took after me in that regard.
“I bet she does,” I muttered, my attention returning to the road. My mother had forgiven many cheating men over the years, especially her latest husband, because she was accustomed to the certain lifestyle they provided. “Listen, kiddo. Forgiveness is important, but so is honesty. Warren turned out to be a dishonest person, and I know I deserve better than that. We both do.”
It wasn’t much, but I hoped it would tide my daughter’s curiosity over the matter. Daphne fell silent, staring out at the passing scenery sombrely.
We passed the sign that read Welcome to Hartwood Creek, and I let my GPS guide me to the downtown core. Eyeing the beautiful green and white gazebo in the centre of Hartley Park where a musician—a young guitarist—stood playing and singing into a microphone, I smiled. He didn’t have much of an audience, but those that were passing by stopped to listen.
It had been several years since I’d made the trip out to visit Auntie Em and Uncle Ed. As a child and a young teen, I’d spend weeks every summer in this charming, historic town, located on the southern tip of Lake Hartwood, to spend time with my cousins and give my mother a “break.”
Funny, those were my fondest memories of growing up—escaping the indifference of my mother.
I was able to score a parking spot out front of the hardware store and peered up at the old brick building. Alcott Hardware had been in my uncle’s family since the early days of Hartwood Creek, passed down from generation to generation. My cousins were all married or busy with their careers now, and none of them were interested in taking over the hardware store. Neither was I, really, but I’d happily accepted the position to get the hell out of Dodge.
I’d made it clear to Uncle Ed and Auntie Em that I had no desire to take over the business either. I just needed a job. They both seemed okay with that and were happy to employ me as a cashier.
“Please get out on the sidewalk side,” I instructed, and Daphne rolled her eyes in response, sliding across the seat to do as I asked. Not that the streets were overly busy—and as a bonus, the hardware store was sandwiched between the police station and a bistro, making it one of the safest places in town, but one could never be too careful.
I got out of the car, too, stretching the kinks out of my back. As I did so, my aunt and uncle walked out of the hardware store. Aunt Emelia’s curly brunette hair was peppered with more gray, and her laugh lines were more pronounced, but I instantly felt at home when she embraced me.
“Sage! It’s been way too long,” Auntie Em said, squeezing me tight. I closed my eyes, trying to will away the tears that welled at her maternal touch.
Auntie Em was the polar opposite of my shallow, self-centred mother, who didn’t seem to have a maternal bone in her body and never had. From her dark hair to her positive, nurturing nature, Emelia was the mother I often wished mine could be.
Auntie Em hadn’t tried to convince me to settle for less than my worth, and she’d given me an opportunity for a new beginning.
Moving on to Daphne, Auntie Em hugged her. “Ooh! The last time I saw you, you were in diapers,” she crooned, and Daphne looked at me pleadingly.
Uncle Ed caught her distress, and chuckling, moved forward to put his hands on Auntie Em’s shoulders. He had also aged over the years, his face more wrinkled and weathered. His light brown hair was longer than I remembered and graying along with the scruff on his chin. “Now, Em, let them have some breathin’ room. How was the drive, girls?”
“Long,” Daphne complained, peering around them to the hardware store. “Is that the store Mommy’s going to work at?”
“Sure is. And those windows right there—that’s your new apartment,” Uncle Ed said, pointing to the windows above. “Parking is around back for customers and residents, but you’re fine there for now,” Uncle Ed said this second bit to me, and I nodded.
“Wanna go check it out, Squirt?” I ruffled Daphne’s hair. Despite her efforts, the smile Daphne tried to hold back burst through. Uncle Ed flipped the sign to “closed” and locked the hardware store up.
“We’ll give you the grand tour,” Auntie Em said, her eyes shining with excitement. I followed my aunt and uncle to the door to the right of the hardware store.
Uncle Ed typed in a code to unlock the door. “The code is easy to remember; it’s 0-0-0-0,” he told us with a bemused grin. “Never got around to changing it, and Mrs. Durand wouldn’t be able to remember now if we did.”
“Who’s Mrs. Durand?” Daphne asked, peering up at her great-uncle.
“She lives in the apartment beside you. Elderly lady, she mostly keeps to herself,” he replied, answering her question with a smile my daughter couldn’t help but return.
We stepped into a narrow foyer with a set of stairs and a hallway that led to another door at the back of the building. “That’s the door you’ll use when you park in the parking lot. The same code that opens the front will open the back,” Uncle Ed explained.
He led us up the stairs to the second level, where a secondary door opened to a long corridor. Uncle Ed walked down the hall until he reached the second door, apartment 2B. He unlocked it, then held it open for us to walk through.
The apartment opened into a beautiful open-concept kitchen and living room area with high ceilings and exposed brick. It was way nicer than any place I had ever rented on my own. To my left, I could make out a hallway that probably led to the bedrooms and bathroom—Daphne immediately ran down it to investigate.
“Wow,” I exhaled, my eyes widening as I took in every detail with astonishment. I walked into the apartment, instantly feeling at home. The open-concept kitchen was divided by an island. The refrigerator, stove, and a long counter were on the interior wall, with pine cabinets above and below.
The double kitchen sink on the island overlooked the living room, so if I was washing dishes, I wouldn’t be staring at a wall, but rather at the living room and the two large windows.
Strolling over to the windows, I peered outside at the view of Hartley Park and beyond that—Lake Hartwood.
Everything was within walking distance, which meant I’d save a ton on gas when we were out exploring the town.
I turned around to face my aunt and uncle. “This is perfect, thank you so much. How much is the rent?”
Uncle Ed and Auntie Em glanced at each other, wordlessly communicating with a single look. “Six hundred dollars, all-inclusive,” Uncle Ed replied.
“That seems extremely low.” I frowned, glancing around. The apartment was dated and the appliances on the older side, but surely a two-bedroom apartment in the downtown core of a touristy historical town would be a little more? One as beautiful as this one should be well outside my budget.
“It’s the family rate,” Auntie Em insisted. “You’re helping us out. Saving us from having to try and find a suitable tenant.”
“You’ve already given me a job. I can’t accept this as well,” I tried to insist, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. It was hard not to feel like a charity case.
“You’ll work for the job.” Uncle Ed smiled. “We own the building, and it has long since paid itself off. We can afford to be generous with the rent.”
“We want to help you get on your feet again,” Auntie Em added kindly. She knew the gist of what had happened with Warren—and the motherly advice I’d received from her younger sister. She’d been disappointed but unsurprised by my mother’s stance. She just so happened to side with me on the matter.
If a man wasn’t loyal, there was no sense in loving him. It’d only lead to a lifetime of heartache.
My eyes began to itch with the urge to cry at their kindness and generosity, but before I could succumb to tears, my daughter pulled me back.
“Mommy! Look at my room.” Daphne’s little voice came from down the hallway, where she stood peering into one of the bedrooms. I cast a suspicious look at my aunt and uncle, who were both looking everywhere but directly at me, and went to join my daughter.
The bedroom that was to be Daphne’s had furniture in it already—a white captain’s bed and a matching dresser and desk. I recognized the bedroom set from my aunt and uncle’s house; it’d been in their middle daughter Livia’s bedroom. The entire room smelt like fresh paint, and the walls were a soft purple colour.
“I love it,” Daphne declared, unable to mask her excitement over her new bedroom.
When I peered into the other bedroom—my bedroom—I found it was also freshly painted and furnished with a white queen-size sleigh bed, a dresser, and a matching night table. It was the bedroom set that had been in their oldest daughter Madeline’s bedroom.
“It’s just some extra pieces of furniture we had kicking around from the girls,” Auntie Em explained from the living room. “You mentioned you’d left everything behind.”
