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After those revelations, Tucker disappeared.
I couldn’t sit still, so I drove to Finn’s farm, bypassing the main road and taking the little-known access road toward the back of the property. I wanted to see it again—the pond where we'd made love, the land he cared about.
I parked the car and got out. The walk through the small forest wasn't easy. No one had used this path for a long time. I only knew about it because Ivy'd had me drive out here more than once after she and Finn had broken up and she'd lost her driver's license due to multiple OWIs. She'd wanted to see what that asshole had been up to. We never caught sight of him—only his truck, which had changed over the years.
I settled down on the spot where we'd had our picnic and drew my knees underneath my chin.
"Winter Donovan, right?"
My head jerked up. Mrs. O'Malley had crept up behind me, although how I didn't hear the horse, I didn't know.
"You were lost in thought," she explained, reading my silent confusion correctly. "Where's my son?"
"Working. It's nice to see you, Mrs. O'Malley." I stood and watched as she dismounted.
She swung her leg off the horse and came to stand beside me. Her riding boots were old leather and covered with dust. She wore actual jodhpurs that were slightly baggy around the thighs, a helmet, and a trim vest over a long-sleeved blue denim blouse.
"You two haven't been back since that one night." I felt my cheeks heat at the memory of that. I hoped she hadn't been around the pond that day.
"No ma'am, it's been a busy few weeks," I lied.
She stuck her hand under my chin and pushed it upward. She was about five inches taller than me, and I guessed she wanted to look me in the face. "You have this sad, martyred look on your face."
"Martyred?"
"Yes, very. I know it well. I've worn it every day of my life, so I recognize it easily when I spot it on someone else's face. Is this about the baby?"
I did a double take. "How do you know about that?"
She flicked her fingers. "Henry is a gossipy old man. He keeps me in the loop. He was convinced Finn would fail. Too young and not enough experience."
"Finn isn't going to fail," I retorted.
She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less. "Henry told me about the drama. Must have overheard something in the trailers. You are apparently noisy—in all your activities." She looked down her nose, and I flushed, deep and red. Note to self: don't have sex in construction trailers.
"I couldn't say, ma'am," was all I could choke out.
"I didn't want Finn to take this job. In fact, I actively tried to get him to quit. I had Henry call off the concrete subcontractor and create a few other problems that would delay the project so he'd walk away. I underestimated Finn's stubbornness."
"He doesn't walk away from anything." I thought of the daily donuts and coffee. The frequent trips to Tucker's to see me. I wondered about all the phone calls and text messages I'd missed.
She pursed her lips and looked out at the pond.
"I love Finn, but I've always thought of him as inherently lazy because everything came easy for him. He didn't need to study hard in high school to achieve As. He never had to work to gain any girl's attention. He was a naturally gifted athlete and had a good sense of humor which drew people to him. He wanted for nothing. Not friends, appreciation from his teachers, or material goods. He had everything, including the deep admiration and love of his parents. Particularly his father.
“His father worshipped the ground Finn walked on, said Finn was the best thing he'd ever had a hand in creating. So when the Riverside project fell into Finn's lap, I knew it would be something he'd walk away from because that's Finn. If a girl became too much work, he'd break up with her. He could have been a great athlete but didn't care enough to work at it. He didn't want to have the hassle of running a big company like his father's, so he did small flips, short term ventures that required some risk, some work, and netted some reward."
"That's not why he went into flipping." I objected. "And he's a lot different now."
"Oh, he is?" She looked at me appraisingly. "And you know this how?"
"Because he told me." I stopped. "No, he showed me. He's finishing this project of his father's, even though he hates it, because he loved his dad and didn't want to see his reputation suffer. He…he told me I came first for him, no matter what. He fights for what he thinks is important."
"And so you’re important?"
"Yes."
She fell silent, and the words we'd shared hung between us like a giant cloud.
