Under the Northern Lights(76)

Turning around, he practically fled from me. Guilt roiled in my stomach, but I pushed it back. I’d been as forthcoming with Shawn as I could be, telling him no time after time. He just hadn’t wanted to listen, and unfortunately, now he didn’t have a choice . . . I was leaving. Sometimes actions did speak louder than words.

Once Shawn was gone, my parents and my sister trudged back into my room and continued telling me what a horrible mistake I was making. It was hard to pack when I knew I didn’t have their support. It was hard to leave that way, too, but . . . it was time. I couldn’t stay here anymore. As much as I loved Cedar Creek, my heart was way up north, under the northern lights.

“Look, guys . . . I know you mean well, but I’ve made up my mind, and this is happening. My friend Ann is going to be renting my house while I’m gone. She’s going to take care of the dogs and the bills, so you guys don’t have to worry about anything this time.” It hurt my heart to leave my pups behind, but they wouldn’t fare well in the cold. It was in their best interest to stay here. Shaking off that small misery, I told my family, “I’ll do my best to keep in contact, but during the winter months, I won’t have a good way to communicate. You’ll just have to trust that I’m okay.”

Mom wiped beneath her eyes, then muttered to Dad, “We should get back to the diner.” She started to leave, then stopped, turned around, and wrapped me in a hug. “I love you, Mallory. Please be careful.”

Her voice was shaking so hard it made my eyes water. I wasn’t trying to hurt them . . . I was just trying to live. Fully and completely. Dad hugged me next. “Chase your dreams. You’re the only one who can.”

Sniffling, I sputtered, “Thank you, Dad.”

He released me, then shepherded Mom out the door. Once they were gone, I turned to my sister. “I don’t want to leave with you mad at me.”

She was furiously tapping her foot, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked about ready to explode. Then she sighed and threw her arms around me. “I’m not mad—I’m just redirecting my fear into anger so I can deal with you being gone and in danger and gone.”

“You said gone twice,” I said, holding her tight.

“I know. I’m struggling with that part the most.” Pulling back, she cupped my cheeks. “I just got you back.”

Grabbing her hands, I told her, “I’m not disappearing without a trace this time. I’m following my heart. This is a good thing.”

She nodded. “Maybe in a few months I’ll be able to accept that.”

I gave her another quick hug, then sheepishly asked, “Can you give me a ride to the airport? And give me a hand with all my stuff?”

A dramatic sigh escaped her. “God . . . maybe I won’t miss you after all.” She paused to wink at me. “Of course.”

She took a couple of bags, while I took one bag and my favorite item—a chainsaw for Michael. He needed one. Badly. My heart was in my throat as we headed outside to her car. As much as I wanted to see Michael again—couldn’t wait to see him again—Shawn’s comments were on my mind. I hadn’t heard anything from Michael since we’d parted ways at the airport. He hadn’t written me, hadn’t called. I’d given him every possible way to get ahold of me in all my letters . . . but then again, if he hadn’t gone into town, if he hadn’t received my letters, well . . . then it was perfectly reasonable that I hadn’t heard from him.

But still . . . what if he didn’t miss me like I missed him? What if he didn’t want me to show up unexpectedly? If, if, if . . . I was really sick of that word.

Patricia carried my bags to her car, then unceremoniously dropped them on the ground. “Hey,” I told her. “My camera is in there.” Still in a box, still unopened, but packed and ready for Michael.

She smirked at me as she unlocked her car. “Sorry, I guess I . . .”

Her voice trailed off as we both stopped to watch a bright-yellow taxi driving down my long gravel driveway. What the hell? I hadn’t called for a taxi to the airport. Nor would I. That trip was pricey. Confused, I watched the car stop right in front of me. The rear door opened, and I sucked in a breath, positive I was dreaming. Michael . . . was here.

Everything I was holding fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He was here. I could only watch in stunned silence as Michael grabbed a duffel bag from the driver, then paid him a thick wad of cash. The cab began turning around to leave, and I was still gaping.

“Mal? Who is that?” I heard my sister ask. I couldn’t respond. Michael’s clear blue eyes were locked on mine. His dark-brown hair was longer, scragglier, and his beard was in desperate need of another trim. He hadn’t been keeping up on his grooming with me gone. Of course, he lived alone, his only companion the occasional animal wandering through the forest, so why would he? What was he doing here?

He took a tentative step toward me, then stopped. “Mallory? You’re probably wondering why I’m . . .” He glanced to my sister, swallowed, then returned his eyes to mine.

Taking him in . . . the lean, chiseled body; the rough, rugged exterior; the carefully hidden scars, both outer and inner . . . our time together hit me like a tidal wave, nearly knocking me over. All the fear, all the comfort, all the confusion, heartache, and disappointment. All the love.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I flung myself into his arms, wrapped myself around his body, and quickly found his mouth. My lips worked furiously over his like I was drowning and he was air. He kissed me back just as desperately, clearly conveying his loneliness without a single word.