"One of my brothers—not by blood, but by choice. You'll meet them eventually." He adjusted a work lamp, eliminating shadows from the desk he'd created. "My other brother, Kevin, helped me select the wood for most of these pieces. He's got an eye for quality that comes from years of attention to detail."
"How's this?" he asked, stepping back to survey his handiwork.
I tested the setup, spreading out a few of the less fragile documents. "This is better than my workspace at the historical society. Where I spent six years cataloging other people's discoveries while my own research gathered dust."
"Good. Want me to leave you alone for a bit?"
"No." The word came out more forcefully than I'd intended. "I mean, you don't have to leave. This is your workshop. I'm the intruder here."
"You're not an intruder." Neil moved to stand behind my chair, his hands settling on my shoulders with possessive tenderness. "This is your space now too."
The assumption that I'd be staying long enough to need a proper workspace sent a thrill through me. We were already planning a future together, even if neither of us had said it explicitly. The casual declaration that I had a space with him made my heart stutter.
Outside, I could hear birds calling and wind moving through the pines—the soundtrack to this new life I was stumbling into.
"Tell me more about these symbols," I said, forcing myself back to work. I pulled out the sheet we had been looking at yesterday. "Show me what you recognize."
Neil leaned over me to examine the document, his chest against my back, arms caging me in against the desk. The position was intimate and protective, and I loved it. This man was mine. All mine. How the heck did I get so lucky?
"This one," he said, pointing to a symbol that looked like an arrow merged with a tree. "I've seen it carved into oak trees throughout the mountain. I always thought it was some kind of forestry marking."
"It could be a directional indicator. Underground Railroad conductors used tree carvings to guide escaped slaves along safe routes." My excitement built as the pieces fell into place. "If we could map the locations of all these symbols—"
"We could trace the actual path they used through the mountains," Neil finished, his voice carrying the same enthusiasm. "Show me what to look for, and I'll take you to every marked tree I remember."
The collaboration felt natural, like we were partners in the truest sense. Neil's knowledge of the mountain combined with my historical expertise could unlock secrets that had been hidden for over a century.
"This is incredible," I breathed, making notes on the symbol patterns in my notebook. "Neil, this could be the most complete Underground Railroad route map ever discovered. The implications for historical research—"
I stopped mid-sentence, realizing what I was suggesting. Mapping the full route would take weeks, maybe months of careful work. Time I didn't have if I was supposed to return toBoston and my position at the historical society as soon as the road cleared up for my rental car to be towed.
"What is it?" Neil asked, noting my sudden silence.
"This research. If I do it properly, it's going to take much longer than I originally planned." I looked up at him, trying to read his expression. "I'd need to extend my stay significantly."
"How significantly?"
"Months. Maybe through the winter, depending on weather and accessibility." The admission felt like stepping off a cliff. "I'd have to request extended leave from my position and find temporary housing."
"Stay here."
The immediate offer cut off my practical worries. "I can't impose on you for months."
"I told you, you're not imposing." He paused. "Kim, I've been alone on this mountain for eight years. Two days ago, I didn't even know you existed. Now I can't imagine going back to that emptiness."
The raw honesty in his voice made my heart race. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying stay. Not as a guest, not as someone I'm helping with research. Stay as my woman. My partner. The person I wake up next to every morning and fall asleep holding every night."
It was so tempting, along with rash and crazy.
"I'm not even sure my job will let me do it."
"Tell me about your job," Neil said, turning my chair so I was facing him directly. "What would you be missing if you stayed?"
I thought about my days at the historical society—the basement office with flickering fluorescent lights, the endless filing, the careful deference to Dr. Pemberton's opinions even when I knew he was wrong.
"I work for the Vermont Historical Society. Under Dr. Richard Pemberton." Even saying his name made my shoulders tense. "He's brilliant and respected, but..."
