Love & Moosechief, page 7
“You can have the car. Bev’s getting me soon for coffee.”
Kinley leaned backwards against the counter, ignoring the growing mess Fiona made. She’d only allow herself to worry if her tidy aunt left behind the clutter of dirty dishes scattered along the counter. She sipped on her tea to hide her frown. “Need me to do the dishes or bake the pie while you’re out?”
“Oh, no. Pie’s going in the fridge for now.” With her left hand, Fiona spooned blueberry filling from a jar she’d canned, dropping a splotch on the counter when it missed the pie pan. Kinley didn’t dare offer to clean it up. “You’re free to do as you please today. Don’t worry about a thing here.”
“Does your arm bother you at work?” Kinley asked carefully.
“Not any more than it bothers me anywhere else.” Fiona rinsed the empty jar in the sink and set it in the dishrack, finally looking over at Kinley when she finished. Her slightly quirky smile caused one corner of her mouth to lift a smidge higher than the other. “Something on your mind?”
Pickles darted through the kitchen, leaving behind a couple of fresh paw prints on his way to the living room window for his morning bird watching. Kinley rinsed off a dishrag and wiped up the flour trail. “I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by the library since I’ve been back. I’ve been meaning to come in.”
“You don’t want to be there,” Fiona said matter-of-factly as she worked a crust over the top of the pie. Her precision with one hand impressed Kinley, but Fiona’s tone unsettled her. “You don’t have to pretend otherwise.”
“Maybe I’ll pick up lunch for Ava.” Kinley rinsed out the dishrag and carried it into the laundry nook off the kitchen. Maybe I should go see the mayor about the sign. “Willamina’s still good as it was ten years ago?”
“Better. Mind covering this pie and sticking it in the fridge for me?”
“Of course.” Kinley approached with caution, accepting the box of clingwrap Fiona handed to her. Fiona hadn’t asked for much more than a ride since Kinley came back. All the help she’d given had been offered, or in some cases, forced. Fiona was stubborn when it came to admitting she couldn’t do everything on her own, more so now that she was down one arm.
Fiona plugged one sink, turned on the water, and squeezed in a line of soap. “You never told me when you head off to flight school.”
Kinley could skate the question, tell Fiona she didn’t have a date just yet. Instead, she let out a sigh and tried the truth. “I haven’t submitted my application.”
“I thought flight school was a done deal.”
“Being an Army pilot sounds cool, doesn’t it?” Kinley had helped out on a few test flights during her time in Afghanistan. The idea of becoming a pilot sounded epic when Ms. Nova, a warrant officer and test pilot in her unit, suggested as much during their most recent deployment. She made the entire process sound simple with Kinley’s scores and near-perfect vision.
“Did you change your mind?”
When Kinley left on a plane for basic training nine years ago, she had no idea how long she would stay in the Army. Only that it was her fastest—and cheapest—ticket away from the place that most reminded her of her mom. A town that represented nothing but heartache and bad memories.
However, now that she was back, her resentment seemed to be softening.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Kinley said finally. “I thought I had it all figured out. I’m still planning to put my packet in when I get back. Just need one final letter of recommendation.” She left out the part about her waiting to sign her reenlistment paperwork, or the ticking clock she was up against. “I should have dates in a few weeks.”
“Well, if you do decide to move back instead, I’ll be happy to have you around. You’ve always got a home here.”
“Thanks, Fiona.”
“The Army’s been really good for you. I’m proud of you. Your mom is, too. I know it.”
Swallowing back sudden threatening tears, Kinley busied herself with wiping down the kitchen counter while Fiona washed her dishes. Time didn’t fill the void she felt every time she looked at the kitchen table. Her mom should be there, sitting on a cracked vinyl chair, working on a crossword before her shift at the lodge. Words lingered on the tip of Kinley’s tongue.
Fiona looked at her expectantly. “Wait any longer and you might choke on whatever it is you want to say.”
Kinley drew in a deep breath, held it until it burned, then released it with her words in a rush of air. “Mom wrote me a letter.” There, it’s out. No turning back.
“She what?”
“She wrote a letter and gave it to Patty Whitmore before she died. I got it in the mail on my twenty-fifth birthday.” On a handful of occasions, Kinley tried to tell Fiona about the letter, but every time she lost her nerve. Why Cassidy entrusted it to Patty and not her own sister had always nagged at Kinley. She wondered if it was a secret Mom didn’t want Fiona to learn. Kinley had convinced herself that not mentioning the letter was a way to protect the only family she had left.
“Two years ago.” The hurt in Fiona’s eyes was unmistakable. “You’re just now mentioning it?”
“I-I’m sorry, Fiona. I should’ve said something a long time ago.”
Flicking her drying towel over a shoulder, Fiona pulled Kinley away from the counter and into the living room. They settled on the couch almost as one. “Kinley, I love you like a daughter. Always have. But why are you really back?”
“Did Mom really never tell you who my dad was?” She hadn’t asked the question in years. Only once since she left home, when Fiona came to visit her in New York while she was stationed in Fort Drum.
“Ah, so this is about your dad.”
“I could never figure out why Mom gave the letter to Patty and not you.”
“Well, that’s an easy one.” Pickles hopped away from the window, seemingly bored, and strutted across Fiona’s lap. Fiona ran her hand along the back of his ears as he settled against her thighs. “She probably gave it to Patty because the woman was known for keeping secrets. People trusted her. I would’ve given you the letter right away. I couldn’t hold on to a thing like that, not knowing it contained some big secret that could alter the course of your entire life.”
“Well, the letter only told me to talk to Patty to get the answer. I’m no closer to knowing now than I was before. Maybe I’m not meant to know at all.”
Fiona set her good arm around Kinley’s shoulders, pulling her in tight for a hug. “If you’re meant to find the answer, you will. If not—”
“I’m not going to waste my leave turning up every stone in town,” Kinley said. “I think it’s time to enjoy myself before I make any life-altering decisions about flight school. Might even take Ryder up on his offer to go fishing.”
“Rumor has it you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Ryder Grant,” Fiona said.
How to explain that one. “I’ve run into him some.” The man did seem to pop up everywhere she was. First, the accident scene, then Whitmore Patio. Warren’s was certainly not her fault, but Ava’s, but the pier walk had definitely happened with her encouragement.
“Better be careful, or that boy might get attached.”
“Doubtful.” Kinley feared it might be the other way around. Not less than three times this morning, she’d thought of stopping by to check on Rowdy and see if that fishing invitation was still open. Though she loved dogs, it was Ryder she looked forward to seeing the most. Spending time with him was dangerous if she couldn’t get a handle on her wandering thoughts. No matter what, Kinley still had to get on a plane next week. “We’re just friends. That’s it.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“I mean it.”
“He’s a good one, Kinley. I know you two had your differences when you were kids, but you’re grown up now.”
Differences hardly described it. She’d resented him for years, replaying that kiss for what it was, moments stolen from her mom in those final hours. Of course, she was mature enough to see that night for what it actually was. And none of it was his fault. The least she owed him was an apology, and she’d find the words before she got back on a plane. “Not going to happen.”
Fiona lifted her hand in surrender as she stood, forcing Pickles to move from her lap and into Kinley’s. “I better grab my jacket. Bev will be here any minute.”
Kinley welcomed the cat’s comforting purrs, even if it required nonstop head scratches. She kissed between his ears, all out of words for the moment.
“If I had any theories on who your dad is,” Fiona called from the hall, “I’d tell you. I promise I would. Told your mom you deserved to know the truth, no matter what it was. But your mom was too fond of her secrets. I didn’t even know she was seeing someone until she told me she was pregnant. She was that good at hiding things from me when she wanted to be.”
Kinley stared straight ahead, convincing herself that she could accept not knowing who her father was for the rest of her life. Maybe even be okay with it. Her gaze landed on the broken rungs of the loft ladder. “Ryder’s stopping by tomorrow to fix the ladder,” she called out to Fiona, ready to move on to a different topic.
Fiona shrugged into a jacket almost as long as her skirt, having little issue on her own. “Good thing I made a pie, then, isn’t it?”
A horn honked out front, causing Pickles to hiss and leap off Kinley’s lap. He skittered down the hallway and disappeared into a bedroom.
Fiona stopped before opening the screen door. “There’s a box of your mother’s things up in the loft. We can get to it after Ryder fixes that ladder. Just . . . don’t expect much. Probably nothing in there that’ll give you the answers you want. She didn’t keep a diary or anything that easy, Nancy Drew.” Fiona stepped out onto the porch and stopped. “Don’t go trying to get it now. I suspect broken bones won’t expedite your military plans.”
Thrumming her fingers against the back of the sofa, Kinley considered her options. She’d already called the mayor, determined to face judgment over the sign debacle, but he was out all morning. Too early to bring Ava lunch, Kinley reached out to Ryder instead. Better to go fishing than face the temptation to monkey climb into the loft for a box that likely held nothing of significance.
Kinley followed Ryder’s text directions, navigating a tree-covered dirt road that weaved its way around several properties of varying sizes. She recognized his driveway on Choke Cherry Lane by the mailbox; a bear carved from wood held it on his shoulders.
A single-story log cabin with a covered porch and green metal roof emerged through the trees. Ryder’s massive truck sat in the driveway, no doubt too large to fit inside the single garage bay. She parked behind it.
His text promised he and Rowdy would be in the backyard.
Three strides from the car, Kinley realized she forgot her purse. She really was over carrying the dang thing, but she needed her license and credit card to buy the fishing license. Ryder promised to help her with that before they headed to the marina.
Snagging her purse with a less than elegant compliment, Kinley popped out of the car again and let out a startled scream. Ed stood hardly five feet away, staring straight at her. The air died in her lungs. No inhale. No exhale.
“You.”
There were so many things Kinley wanted to say to the elusive moose who left her high and dry at the crime scene, but his proximity reminded her what the beast was capable of should she make him feel threatened.
Ed extended his neck toward a leafy branch.
The car door wasn’t shut. Not all the way. But would it startle him if she yanked it wide and dove in? She didn’t think her aunt’s car deserved any more of a beating than she’d already given it.
Kinley pushed her back as far as it would go against the side of the Buick, clenching her purse straps so tightly her fingers turned white. “You know, no one believes me, Ed.”
He watched her closely, slapping frothy lips around a clump of leaves and stripping them off. He blinked once, just so she was quite sure he didn’t care, and chomped.
“The whole town thinks I was driving irresponsibly.” She relaxed enough to return the color to her fingers. “They think I took my anger out on the sign or something. It’s all over town. Why did you do it, Ed? The mayor hates me. Always has.”
Mid-chomp, Ed’s ears perked at a sound Kinley couldn’t make out. Ed shuffled backward, turning and vanishing into the tree line.
Kinley let out a heavy breath, allowing her body to slide against the car. She stole a few minutes to herself, expecting the energetic dog to round the cabin any second. Surely Rowdy had frightened away the moose. Though she didn’t hear the scuffle of energetic paws on the grass, Rowdy did let out her deep bark.
Heartrate slowed, she pushed back up to her feet. Dusting off her jeans, she followed the steppingstone path around the side of the house.
Ryder lounged with his back to her on a cushioned loveseat. Rowdy sat erect at his side, her body turned toward the Cheeto he held at the ready. The shepherd gave her a brief glance and a few quick tail thumps, but her attention immediately returned to her prize. “Good girl. Take it nice, now.” Rowdy leaned closer, delicately taking the snack from Ryder.
“I do hope you’re feeding her more than Cheetos,” Kinley playfully scolded, forcing her pulse to slow yet again. The sight of Ryder and this dog—Kinley would be smart to run away now before feelings crept into the equation uninvited.
“Don’t let Rowdy fool you.” Ryder snagged another Cheeto from the bag and held it out, repeating the trick. “She had a generous helping of ground caribou last night, and she stole a couple sausage links this morning.”
Kinley stepped onto the deck and dropped into a swivel rocker with red-orange cushions across from the duo, a dark wicker and aluminum coffee table separating them. “Any luck on figuring out who Rowdy belongs to?” she asked.
“Nope. Vet can’t find a chip, but she’s researching the rabies tag for me. Clinic it’s from had some sort of computer glitch this morning and can’t access their records.”
Rowdy delicately licked Ryder on the cheek, requesting more goodies, no doubt. Kinley secretly hoped the owner didn’t claim the dog and Ryder was forced to adopt her himself. The two seemed to make a good pair.
“I have to admit, I’m impressed with this patio set. It matches and everything. Who would’ve thought you had taste?”
“I can’t take any of the credit. Mom picked it out. I just handed over my credit card. She’d flip if she saw Rowdy getting hair all over the cushions.”
Dropping her purse beside her chair, Kinley leaned back and let the morning sun kiss her cheeks. “How is your mom?”
“Busy as always. Heading committees, starting organizations, you name it. Retirement hasn’t slowed her down a bit. I think it’s made her more social, if that’s possible.”
Kinley hoped to see Tillie Grant before she left town, even if only to say a quick hello. Tillie had always been kind to her and her family, even when others weren’t. “And your dad? What’s he up to these days?”
Ryder’s rare smile faded as he wadded up the empty chip bag. Rowdy hopped down once she seemed to realize the treats were no more and sauntered over to Kinley for behind-the-ear scratches. “We lost him a few years ago, right before Denver joined the Army. Brain aneurysm.”
Kinley’s heart clenched in sympathy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Avoiding her hometown at all costs had caused her to miss out on so many things. She made a promise to herself that she’d do better about not just keeping in touch, but visiting more.
Ryder popped out of his seat, grabbing Rowdy’s full attention. The dog leapt up and trotted back to him. “You ready to get this license and get to fishing? My freezer is in halibut deficit.”
“What are you going to do with Rowdy?”
“Take her with us, of course.”
“You’re going to take a dog fishing?”
Ryder gave an indifferent shrug that made Kinley’s stomach flutter. Aunt Fiona was right. They were all grown up now. “Why not? Plenty of room in the boat.”
Chapter Eight
Ryder
Inviting Kinley to go halibut fishing might’ve been Ryder’s gravest mistake in weeks. For starters, he couldn’t fault her functional wardrobe. Dark jeans tucked into rubber boots, an ARMY-emblazoned hoodie and a down vest to block the chilly ocean air, and her ponytail pulled through the back of a purple baseball cap. Ryder had to look away the minute he cast them off. She looked right at home in the passenger seat of his boat.
Don’t get used to this, he warned himself.
“I forgot how beautiful it is out here,” Kinley said, eyes on the open waters, Rowdy pressed against her leg.
“Ava’s right. You should come back more than once every nine years.” Ryder suppressing what he really wanted to say behind an easy smile. You should come home to stay. He tore his gaze from Kinley as he slowed the boat.
Though he’d fished with Chase and a few others on occasion, he never brought anyone to this spot. This fishing spot was where he chucked a twelve-thousand-dollar engagement ring before he had the good sense to pawn it. It was the place he returned to when he needed an escape, and until now, he hadn’t wanted to share it with anyone. Why he was willing to share it with Kinley was a riddle he didn’t care to ponder.
“I think I might have to work on that whole visiting thing,” Kinley admitted, popping up from her seat when the boat rocked in place. “Are we stopping?”
“Yep.” Chum bag attached to the anchor, he dropped it overboard. “It might take a while to get bites, but I promise it’ll be worth it. You’re not in a hurry?”
“Not at all.”
“Good answer.”
“Tell me if you feel the same after you’ve had to teach me how to do all this”—she waved her hand at the rigs and bait buckets—“stuff. First timer here.”
Kinley was an attentive student, not afraid to ask questions or touch the bait. She listened with interest as he explained, as if she wanted to understand the significance of the swivel, union knots, and circle hook. Ryder didn’t like to compare, but he couldn’t keep the memory of Mercedes at bay. The blank stares she gave him through these same explanations. And when she realized he used salmon heads as bait, she lost her lunch overboard.
