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She lifted her head from the kitchen table, wincing as muscles in the back of her neck spasmed against the change in position, and found the seat next to her empty. Viv, having fallen asleep by her side last night, had left at some point, leaving Kit to spend the night alone at the table, her cheek pressed to the smooth wood as she slept.
A succession of short taps and bangs, seeming to originate from the front porch, echoed sharply against the quiet emptiness of the kitchen.
Kit pushed back her chair, stood slowly, and stretched her neck from side to side gently, hoping to lessen the knot forming at her nape. She blinked hard and rubbed her eyes, her eyelids feeling puffy and heavy with the weight of the previous night’s tears. She walked to the front door and opened it, sucked in a breath between her teeth at the sharp burst of bright sunlight hitting her face.
“Easy there.” The taps and bangs stopped as Royal’s deep tenor sounded by her side, and his strong hand cupped her elbow, steadying her step. “There are some shingles at your feet, so watch your step.”
Kit forced her eyes open and focused on the porch floor. Shingles, leaves, small branches, and dirt littered the front porch. Ragged holes and deep dents scarred the entire length of the screen that had once enclosed the porch, leaving large sections dangling beside the front steps.
“It was worse than we thought it’d be, wasn’t it?” Her voice emerged husky and hoarse. She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. “How bad is the damage?”
“Not as bad as it looks.” Royal squeezed her upper arm and smiled down at her, the crow’s-feet beside his eyes crinkling with his easy smile. “Seems the storm only skimmed us, like they said, though it got close enough to knock on the door.” He gestured toward a small radio perched on the steps; a morning news report emerged from it at a low volume. “They say it hit about eight miles out. Close enough that we’d feel it but far enough away to avoid the worst scenario. It weakened a good bit overnight, too, so that was a help. Worst winds they’ve clocked so far were in the sixties. Downed some trees, damaged some houses, and knocked the power out, but otherwise, we were lucky.”
Kit glanced around and noted that several of the large boards she and Beau had nailed up yesterday were stacked neatly on the lawn by the front porch steps. “How long have you been up?”
Royal shrugged. “A couple hours.”
“What time is it?”
He tilted his wrist and glanced at his wristwatch. “Close to nine.”
“And you did all this since you got up?” She gestured toward the uncovered windows. “Is Viv helping you?”
Royal shook his head. “Haven’t seen her this morning. She wasn’t in the house when I got up, and you were sleeping good in the kitchen, so I didn’t want to wake you. Figured I’d come on out and work on this ’til you and Mackey got up.”
Kit dragged her hand over her face. “Viv and I talked last night.”
Royal nodded. “I heard some of it.” His chest rose on a deep inhale. “I knew she’d been hurting—that we all were—but I never figured she blamed herself as much as she did.” He reached out, his callused hand cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his, and his eyes met hers. “I want you to hear me when I say this—neither one of you is responsible for your mama’s illness, and neither one of you could’ve done anything different to stop what she done. You both tried to help her the best you could. Thing is . . .” He turned his head and eyed the wispy clouds drifting high above the trees, moisture glistening along his lashes. “None of us could’ve done any more than we did. Sylvie hurt so much . . . She just lost her way.” He faced her again, giving a smile tinged with sadness. “I fought accepting it for a long time. But some things just are, and there’s nothing any of us can do about it.”
Kit cradled his wrist in her hands, dipped her head, and kissed his palm, blinking back her own tears.
“Us talking again,” Royal said softly, “it’s a new start. A chance for all of us to begin again. To rebuild our family”—he motioned toward the damaged screen and roof and smiled wider—“and our home. It’s a new day for all of us.”
Mostly. Kit forced a smile and stepped back, her thoughts turning to her declaration to Viv the night before. She hadn’t realized she’d made the decision to let Beau go until it had risen to her lips, but she supposed she’d known it was the only way. Regaining Viv’s trust would be tenuous at best. It’d be impossible to build a relationship with Beau without hurting Viv, and she couldn’t turn her back on her twin again. She wouldn’t.
Viv’s happiness—and that of the family—came first now. It was, after all, what she’d planned for years. Why she’d returned. And to move forward, she had only one thing left to do. She had to tell Beau.
“Beau stopped by about an hour ago.”
Kit looked up at Royal, tried to temper the longing that surged within her as she met Royal’s searching gaze. “How was he?”
“Fine.” Royal reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He asked for you. I told him you were still sleeping, but that I’d let you know he stopped by.”
“Did he mention the farm?” She looked across the front yard toward the dirt road leading to Beau’s house. Large oak limbs lay in disarray across the road. “How bad is the damage?”
Royal sighed. “He downplayed it, I think. Said it was less than they expected, but I could tell he was worried. He mentioned that he, Nate, and Cal had already been working pretty hard at cleanup.”
“And Viv?” Kit asked quietly.
He shook his head. “Beau didn’t mention her.”
Kit dragged a hand through her hair, and her eyes smarted with tears as her fingers caught in a tangle. Having slept at the kitchen table all night, she probably looked awful—her hair was in tangled knots, and one side of her jaw ached from pressing against the corner of the table as she’d slept—but it’d be best to face this discussion with Beau while she still had the nerve. She could pick up the pieces later.
“Think I’ll head over there and check in on him,” she said. “Maybe Viv’s there helping with the cleanup.”
“If she is, ask her to check in with me, please.” Royal grabbed a hammer from the porch floor and turned it over in his hands. “I’d like to see her face. Talk to her for a bit, if she has the time.”
Kit lifted to her toes and kissed his cheek. “Of course.”
