Page 15 of Due North
“Poetic,” I said on an eye roll.
“No, just the truth. After reading that article, I would suspect that the thread of empathy inside you is stretched so tightly that it’s ready to snap and send you zinging off into another orbit.”
I rubbed my temple, mainly to ensure my face wasn’t drooping on the left side. “What in the hell are you talking about, Heaven?”
“I’m talking about you being an empath. It’s clear that the emotions on the ranch, and those from your past, are starting to catch up to you. You’re making unhealthy choices that are going to get you or someone we love killed out here.”
“I have zero understanding of what you’re talking about right now,” I admitted. “What the hell is an empath?”
Her brow went down to her nose for a moment before she rolled her eyes. The motion was so smooth I suspected she did it a lot to Blaze. Poor sucker. “You. You’re the very definition of one. Play dumb all you want, but we all know. All we have to do is look at Cece and Poppy Rose to know you’re taking all of that pain, grief, and sadness onto yourself. Unfortunately, what you used to do without thinking about it is now consuming you. For whatever reason, it’s too much right now. I suspect that,” she said, pointing to the paper on the floor, “is the reason why you’ve started drinking and acting the fool.”
Oh my God, she thought I was drinking? Dammit. Things must be worse than I thought if they thought I was drinking on the ranch. I was shaking my head before I even tuned back into the conversation.
“I’m not drinking, Heaven. I swear to you that I don’t drink on the ranch. That’s like writing my own death warrant. I’m not stupid.”
She eyed me up and then down, her gaze taking in my unshaven face and rumpled clothes. I couldn’t remember the last time I showered and shaved but resisted the urge to sniff myself in front of her. “Let me ask you a question, Tex,” she said, and I shrugged rather than give her permission. “How did you get to Heavenly Lane?”
I leaned forward on my forearms and shook my head at the floor. “You know this, Heaven. I got a ride out of North Dakota and ended up in Northern Wisconsin. I either had to find a job or keep moving. I saw the ad for Heavenly Lane and decided to stay.”
“You left North Dakota for Northern Wisconsin. Is it fair to say that your moral compass points north?”
“My moral compass?” I asked, stymied by this conversation. “A moral compass doesn’t have an actual direction, Heaven.”
“Yes, it does,” she whispered, her tiny hand coming out to turn my face to meet her gaze. “It so does, and up until this summer, I never questioned that yours pointed true north.”
“You mean due north?”
“No, I mean true north. Due north is an incomplete concept because due north isn’t a direction. True north is a direction. True north has two numbers attributed to it. Zero and three-sixty. Think about that, Tex. Zero and three-sixty. Zero is nothing. Three-sixty is the whole of the planet all the way around and back to the beginning again. Up until this summer, you were three-sixty. Now you’re one-eighty. I’m afraid one day soon you’re going to end up at zero.”
I stood and was thankful my leg was solid under me again. “Zero or three-sixty, I’m still at true north, Miss Heaven, so your argument is invalid.” I ran my hand through my hair that was shaggy and way past due for a cut. “That,” I said, pointing at the paper on the floor. “That made me Null Island. I am nothing but a single buoy bobbing in the waters to mark two invisible intersecting lines. That,” I pointed at the paper again, “nullified my moral compass, Heaven.”
“You could have fooled me all these years,” she said quietly.
“You’re absolutely right. I fooled you and myself into thinking I was a good person. I’m not. I’m bobbing in the water in a place no one else cares about anymore. I’ll submit my request for sale of my share of the ranch to you by tomorrow and move on.”
I strode away with as much dignity as I could muster and slammed the door to the bathroom. I didn’t miss the slam of the front door right before I turned the shower on hot to burn away the memories from a lifetime ago.
Six
The cottage was quiet and neat as a pin when I stepped inside. It always was. Caleb loved this cabin and took the utmost care of it. I shucked my coat and boots and picked up a crumpled piece of paper, then smoothed it out on the coffee table. I already knew what it said, so I flipped it upside down and walked into his kitchen.
Caleb might not be hungry, but he was going to eat anyway. That’s what I did. I fed people extravagant and rich food when times were good and down-home comfort food when times were hard. The kitchen was where I’d found my calling years ago when times were hard. Growing up with an alcoholic mother who didn’t do much other than drink and work, I learned to cook by the second grade. By that time, I’d eaten too many bowls of cereal for dinner and decided if we were going to survive, someone was going to have to cook. Since Allie wasn’t interested, I had picked up the spatula.
By the time I graduated from culinary school, I could hold my ground with some of the best in the region. Tonight, none of that mattered as I loaded butter into a frying pan and waited for it to melt. Tonight, Caleb needed comfort food. I dropped the bread into the butter and dug around in the fridge until I located the cheese. Habanero, of course. I laid thick slices across the bread and waited for the cheese to melt. I was also waiting for Caleb to come out of the bedroom. I could hear him in the shower when I arrived, so I knew he was still here.
“Now you’re taking over my kitchen too?” he asked from behind me.
I didn’t acknowledge his surly tone by turning. “Just making a grilled cheese. I don’t think that constitutes taking over your kitchen.” I calmly finished the sandwich and cut it in half, diagonally, of course, and set it at the table for him. I pointed and waited for him to sit before turning my back to clean the pan while he ate. Something told me he wouldn’t otherwise.
I grabbed a pop from the fridge and set it on the table before I went back to tidying up the kitchen. I could hear his teeth crunch into the toasted bread, and a small moan escaped his throat. That made me smile. At least, if nothing else, I did my job tonight.
“Where’s the cherub?” he asked, snapping open the pop and taking a swallow.
I turned and leaned against the counter, both hands propped on it while I stared him down. “She’s napping. I’m sure when she wakes up, she will be fed lots of snacks by Grandma Amity and Auntie Heaven.”
He tipped his can at me and nodded. “Without question.” He finished the sandwich and then stood, wandering to the window that overlooked the back of the cottage in the kitchen.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked without moving from my position.
