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He was gone. Dead.
The thought had a lump building in my throat, and I swallowed to try and push it down, but it was too much this time. Too many memories of his chiseled face staring at me, his lips quirking at the corners when he thought I was funny. His eyes had this way of pulling me in and threatening to never let me go, and I’d never felt safer than I had when I was wrapped inside his arms. But it was when he would place a kiss to the top of my head and then rest his chin there that made me feel like I was home. That’s what Ford was—home. But it had been blown away, smashed to smithereens, and no amount of rebuilding would restore it to its former glory. So I’d walked away, leaving my heart with the pile of rubble, wishing our bond hadn’t been broken.
“Belle? Earth to Belle.”
A hand waved in front of my face, and I jumped out of my skin, slapping my palm to my chest. A gasp left my mouth. “Sorry,” I automatically responded, and stared up at Leopold. His white mustache was curved at the edges, making him look like he had a constant smile. “I was miles away.” He was used to hearing those words come out of my mouth, and sometimes I wondered if he thought this was just the way I’d always been, but it was the twinkle in his eye that let me know he understood me, even if he didn’t know everything that had happened. He was the kind of man you told your life story to, and couldn’t stop once you’d started.
Leopold pushed his fingers into the tiny pockets of his bright green waistcoat and raised a brow at me. “That you were, Belle. That you were.” He flicked his gaze down to my stomach and grinned. “How’s the baby cooking?” He always knew how to distract me, and I wondered if it was part of the reason I’d stayed in Five Oaks. He had the kind of skill Ford had where he could bring me out of my thoughts, even if it was only for a little while.
I glanced down at my bump. I was seven months pregnant, and in the last month, I seemed to have popped out of nowhere. No longer was I the cute kind of pregnant. Now I was the "swollen ankles and not able to see my feet" kind of pregnant.
“Baby is doing well,” I told Leopold and looked back at him. “I have a checkup next Tuesday, so I’ll be late. Is that okay?”
“O’course.” Leopold fanned his hand in the air as if he was swatting away a fly. “Reckon I can manage for a few hours alone.” He paused and leaned against the counter. “I’ll try to stay out of mischief, but”—the door opened, and the tinkering bell rang out—“I can’t promise anything.” He turned his head to see who had entered and then whipped back around to face me. “Especially now that Cynthia is here.”
He winked, and my eyes widened. Cynthia was the town gossip, although some would call her the town crier. There wasn’t a single secret in this town because of her, and she’d tell you everything, whether you wanted to hear it or not. She’d tried to find out all she could about me the first week I’d started working here, but I’d given her some story about how I was trying to find myself, which in a way, I supposed I was. Only Leopold knew the real story, but even he only got the cut-down version, the same as Curtis. Only one other person truly knew everything that had happened, and I’d give anything to hear his deep voice one last time. Anything.
“Leopold! Just the man I wanted to see.” Leopold froze and stared at me, silently begging me to save him, but I chuckled and glanced at the cash register, acting busy. “I wanted to talk to you about your roses.”
“My…roses?” Leopold asked, and stood to his full height, which couldn’t have been more than five feet five.
“Yes.” Cynthia looked at me and then glanced down to my bump. She didn’t think it was appropriate for me to be living with Curtis when he wasn’t the baby’s father, and she had made it known on several occasions that she thought that way. “Your roses seemed to have blossomed this year, and I was wondering if you could give me some tips?” Leopold opened his mouth, but she didn’t let him talk. “I was telling Beryl how last year your roses weren’t worth looking at, but somehow this year they were second best in town—mine being first, of course—and I wondered how you managed to do such a miraculous shift.”
“Well—”
“Beryl seemed to imply you got new roses, but that wouldn’t be right, would it, Leopold?”
Leopold wiped at his brow with his trusty bright yellow handkerchief. I didn’t blame him for being nervous. It didn’t matter whether what Cynthia was insinuating was true or not, because she had a type of way of giving you a compliment while also putting you down at the same time. It was a true talent.
“Well?” she asked, waiting for his answer.
Leopold fiddled with the cuffs of his stark white shirt. “I…erm…well, you see, I had some special rose food delivered, and also had some new soil added around the roots. I think that did the trick.”
“Hmm.” Cynthia stared at him for several seconds and then turned her attention to me. “I’ll take a bottle of the good stuff.” Once a week, she’d come in and have a bottle of the good stuff, which was her code for sherry. I’d only tried it once, but I can categorically say it was awful.
I stood and reached behind me for the medium-sized bottle, then rang her up. All the while, Leopold stood there as if he’d just had his hands caught in the cookie jar. She paid and swanned out of the store without another word, but one look back at Leopold once the door was closed said she was on to him.
He let out a breath and sagged against the small counter. “Thank god she’s gone.” He stared out of the window as Cynthia stopped to talk to someone else, no doubt giving them the third degree too. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had new roses delivered.”
I snorted and shook my head. Only in a small town like this would that even matter. “Your secret is safe with me.” I made a zipping motion to my lips as the bell rang out again.
“Well, if it isn’t the dashing knight in shining armor,” Leopold sang, grinning up a storm as he walked behind the counter.
“Evening, Leopold,” Curtis greeted, smiling at him. I could see the charm Curtis had, especially on the people in this town. He halted in front of the counter, pushing his hands through his ink-black hair. “Hey,” he directed at me, his voice lower now.
“Hey,” I replied, but I didn’t know where to look. For five months we’d been walking a dangerous line, and sometimes I wondered if I was taking advantage. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. He’d put his life on hold, and even though I wanted to tell him I was ready to leave, it wasn’t the truth.
“How you feeling today?” he asked and leaned one of his arms on the counter. Curtis was picturesque standing there, but I couldn’t help comparing him to Ford. Ford always managed to make me smile with the smallest of movements—had. Past tense. Ford wasn’t here anymore, and I h
ad to keep reminding myself of that.
I shrugged and pushed off the chair Leopold had put behind the counter so I could sit when I was feeling a little tired. I rarely saw Curtis in the morning because he worked at the local bar, which meant he didn’t get home until late, and by the time he woke up, I was either at the store working my shift or taking an afternoon nap.
“Hungry,” I told Curtis, and my stomach grumbled in agreement. “I have a jar of peanut butter at the cabin with my name on it.”
Curtis chuckled, and stood to his full height. “We should probably get you home to your peanut butter, then, huh?”
I swallowed and stared at him for a beat. Curtis was my best friend, but I couldn’t help wondering if I was giving him the wrong impression. I was hyperaware of how I acted around people, especially after everything that had happened. I knew without a doubt I was safe with Curtis, but it didn’t make things any easier.
