When We Let Go, Delancey Stewart [early reader books .txt] 📗

Louise Trench and I spent the day playing cards and eating soup next to the fire while John puttered around outside. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was doing, but for a retired guy, he sure stayed busy out there. Maybe my lack of industriousness was part of the reason I was still living in a trailer. John probably would have built the house himself by now.

“What do your folks think about you living up here, honey?” Louise’s dark eyes were sweet, searching my face.

“You haven’t talked to my parents in a while, I guess?”

She looked stricken. “No, I’m afraid we’ve lost touch.”

“Oh, that’s not your fault,” I said quickly. “Mom died a while ago, three years now, I guess. And Dad isn’t quite himself these days.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry about your mother.” Louise looked sad, her hands clasping in front of her chest and her mouth dropping open. “And your dad, is he …?”

“He’s fine really. I mean, he’s not really the same, but he’s happy for the most part. He lives down in a care facility in the valley.” I looked into the dancing flames, trying to figure out how to explain to Louise that everything was fine when the words I’d just said made it all sound so dire. “He kind of thinks he’s on an extended vacation.”

“That must be so hard for you and your brother. How is Cameron doing?”

I cringed. How could I tell this sweet woman that my brother wouldn’t speak to me; that we hadn’t talked since Mom died? “He’s good,” I said, channeling my last conversation with Jess. “He got married about a year ago to a great girl named Jess. They got married in Hawaii.”

“Oh, I bet that was beautiful.”

I bet it was, too.

“Maddie,” Louise’s face was serious, and she fixed me with a no-nonsense stare. “If you ever need help, you can come to us. I know things have been hard.”

Warmth pooled in my chest. How long had it been since I’d felt like someone really cared about me? I smiled at Louise’s motherly tone. “I’m fine, Louise! You and John are so sweet to let me stay here while the power is out. I hope it won’t be long. I hate to be a burden.”

“I’d love for you to stay longer, if you want. John keeps busy up here, but it gets lonely. And you’re up there alone on that hill …”

John came through the door then, slapping his hands together, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. “It’s definitely hinting of winter out there!” He smiled at me. “I’m glad you’re not up there in that little motorhome, Maddie,” he said. “Though it looks like you’ve been thinking about getting it ready for winter, huh?”

I thought about the giant winterization kit sitting next to the trailer in the mud. He must’ve noticed it when he’d been up this morning.

“Yeah, I need to get back up there and get some of that stuff installed, I guess.”

“I went up to take a crack at it,” he said, looking half guilty and half pleased with himself.

I stood. “Seriously? You did?” Though my pride wanted me to be hurt that he would assume I needed that kind of help, reality had set in.

I needed that kind of help.

“I did.” John glanced at me and I gave what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I hope you don’t mind. Got all the skirting installed around the bottom and think it’s shored up pretty good. I had some help, actually.” He looked uncertain, and eyed me sideways as he stepped inside and Connor moved in behind him.

“Hi,” Connor said, almost sheepishly. His cheeks were ruddy too, and he wore a flannel plaid shirt over a T-shirt. Combined with the scruffy red of his beard and the wild mess of his hair, he looked like a true lumberjack.

“Well, hello,” Louise said, crossing the space to welcome Connor inside.

John introduced Connor and Louise.

“I’m sorry for barging in,” Connor started, but John interrupted him.

“Don’t listen to him. I invited him. He worked hard up there, figured the least I could do was share some of the best split pea soup in the mountains.” John beamed at his wife and a flickering beat of envy went through me as she smiled back, their love as evident as the smiles on their faces.

“Thanks for helping get my place set up,” I said. I felt a little sheepish, like a child that all these people had to take care of.

“Glad to,” Connor said, coming to sit next to me by the fire. “I was worried about you.” He said this in a lower voice, leaning in toward me slightly so John and Louise couldn’t hear as they moved around each other in the kitchen.

We were sitting close, something about the cozy atmosphere in the Trenches’ house pushing us to talk in low voices, to share space in a way we wouldn’t have otherwise.

“I went to your place last night,” Connor said, ducking his head as if he was embarrassed to tell me this. “In the middle of the night, actually.”

A tiny spike of shock ran through me—the rumors of stalking echoing in my mind. That wasn’t quite normal, but I was touched at the same time. “You did?”

“I know it sounds crazy. I mean,” his blue eyes found mine but then looked away. “I know I barely know you, Maddie. It’s just—”

“Come have some soup,” Louise called from the kitchen.

We stood and joined our hosts at their table, my mind turning over Connor’s words. What had he been about to say?

After lunch, John shooed Louise from the kitchen, and she took Connor out to show him photos of her children, long since grown and moved away. John and I did dishes together.

“So I gather you two are friends?” he asked me.

I remembered that Miranda had told me a story about Connor screaming at John one time when he’d come across him up on the Ridge Line trail. I didn’t imagine that John was much of a fan. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I mean, I just met him.”

“He was helpful enough this morning.” He shot me a wary glance. “I’ve had a run in with him in the past though.”

I nodded. “I heard something about you bumping into him hiking?”

John nodded. “I don’t like to spread rumors. And I don’t like to entertain malice if it isn’t warranted.” He put his sponge down in the sink. “But I will tell you what I know because we’ve known you all your life, Maddie. And I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

“Well that’s a bit dark,” I said.

“Connor is mostly a stranger up here. He built that fancy house over there, moved in, and then disappeared for a while. When he came back up, he had a woman with him. For a while, it seemed like he was gonna stay, put some roots down here, and get to be a part of things. He even talked about having spent some time up here as a kid, but no one around here remembers him. Not that it matters, really. But then, he …” John paused, swallowed hard. “Well, the woman who lived with him disappeared. No one saw her for a while, and he’d come down to town alone, looking pretty bad.”

“Bad how?” How Connor could ever look bad, I had no idea.

“Like maybe he’d gone off the edge. He’s a writer, you know. Writes some pretty dark stuff, I guess, though I’ve never read it.”

I shrugged. I’d never heard of Connor Charles before a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t run in what I would call ‘literary’ circles.

“Anyway, folks figured he might have been struggling with something. A couple people took him some food, tried to visit. He mostly didn’t answer the door, and when he did, he told them to leave him alone. Someone asked about the woman, and he didn’t give many answers there either, just said she was gone and slammed the door.”

John was silent for a minute, staring out the window over the sink.

I waited for him to continue, trying to imagine what could have driven Connor through such a dramatic change. Who had the woman been?

“I don’t like to make things up, but I’ll tell you what I think, Maddie. I think he killed that woman.”

Shock roared through me. Miranda had said it, but John Trench was a different story. “What? Why would you say that?”

“When I hiked up to the top of the tree line along Ridge Line Trail, I heard something way off the trail. I like to go up there and explore sometimes, shore up the trails and help the rangers.” He smiled, a modest blush crossing his cheeks. “Anyway, I heard something up there, something that got me curious. Sounded like a bear scratching the bark off a tree trunk. I followed the sound.”

I tried to imagine myself purposely following a bear and determined that I was either a complete wimp or that John was potentially suicidal. “It wasn’t a