Page 16 of Forbidden to Fall

“He’s a good man, Sadie.” Her words were soft. Almost sad.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I really don’t mind working on my own. It’s nice to have some time with my thoughts after a busy day.”

May smiled, but I was sure she didn’t totally believe me. “All right, darlin’. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

She gave me the key, and I grabbed the small box of cleaning supplies from my car, then headed down the trail to the sugar shack, May’s words pinging around in my head.

He’s a good man, Sadie.

Said every mom ever.

It made me wonder, though, what exactly she believed about James. Did she not believe he’d done anything wrong? Or did she just think he deserved forgiveness for it?

I set down the box to unlock the sugar shack, this time using the entrance that led directly into the kitchen. Balancing the box on my hip, I pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside.

I stopped on the threshold as the door swung against my back.

This was not the same kitchen I’d taken inventory in yesterday. The counters were clear, the floor had been swept, and the appliances gleamed.

My gaze went to the back corner of the L-shaped counters, where containers of all four types of maple syrup had been stacked neatly, ready for use.

Footsteps sounded in the next room, and James appeared in the doorway from the evaporator room, a box in his arms. He was wearing a thick canvas jacket, a pair of jeans, and the worn work boots I’d seen at the door yesterday.

He slowed at the sight of me, and our eyes met. After a moment, he broke his gaze away, then took the box to the counter where the maple jars sat.

“Did you do this?” I asked.

He set the box down. “It was a mess.”

I let out a laugh. “I know.” I held up the box of cleaning supplies in my arms.

He came over and took it from me.

“I didn’t mean—” I cut myself off. I was pretty sure he knew I hadn’t held it up for him to take it. “Thank you. For cleaning. You really didn’t have to.”

He set down my box and looked at me. “It was the least I could do.”

I tried not to shift under his gaze. I’d known James most of my life, but I couldn’t remember many times when he’d just…looked at me.

It was what I’d craved for years, but only now that I didn’t see him that way was I experiencing it.

Life was weird like that.

“I appreciate what you’re doing,” he said. “Especially given…” He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Is there anything else I can do?”

I’d spent the last eight years frustrated with James Carver. It was easy to be angry with a memory. You could shape it into something worthy of your annoyance. It was a lot harder to maintain that anger when the memory had been replaced with flesh and blood and had just saved you hours of work.

Here? Now? James looked so…human. Not like the ogre my brain had shaped him into.

“Thank you,” I said, “but you’ve done plenty. Now I can get started on baking.”

He gave a nod. “I’m just gonna be”—he jabbed a finger over his shoulder—“cleaning up the other room.”

I hesitated. “I can help you…” It was only fair.

He shook his head. “Your time is better spent in here. Thanks, though.” He disappeared into the evaporator room.

I took in a slow breath. I was still getting used to this situation—seeing James pop up out of nowhere, so familiar and yet so changed.