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“Go easy on the hooch. Noted.”
“Trav,” she called, and a tall, handsome man holding a baby and flanked by two young boys carrying armfuls of what looked like consumer-grade fireworks, said something to the kids—who were obviously identical twins—and then walked over to us. “This is Rory Castle,” Haven said. “Rescuer of baby raccoons. Rory, this is my husband Travis Hale.”
“Ah,” he said, handing the baby boy to Haven and taking my hand. He squinted slightly, and I saw curiosity in his golden-brown gaze as he assessed me. “The woman who inspired Gage Buchanan to go running through the tennis club with two critters on his head.” He grinned. “The whole town is talking about it. It’s very nice to meet you.”
I let out a breathy laugh that turned into a wince. God, I hadn’t even considered what Gage had been doing, other than summoning help, as I’d been sobbing on the side of the road over the mother raccoon. I hadn’t realized he’d been making a spectacle of himself in front of the whole community. For me. “Travis,” I said. “It’s so good to meet you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart—both of you—for what you did with the cat…and the…raccoons…It was very kind.”
Haven put the baby on her hip and looped her arm through her husband’s and gazed up at him as she said, “We were just happy we could help, right, Trav?” She gave him a wink and though I’d seen a small tick of his jaw, he gazed down at her with something akin to worship as he gave a nod.
“Yeah,” he said. “Happy to help.”
“How are they?” I asked, glancing toward the barn.
“They’re great,” Haven said. “They’re sleeping soundly at our house temporarily. We moved them there so they wouldn’t be frightened by the noise here in Calliope.”
Haven unhooked her arm from her husband’s. “Trav, will you bring me the baby carrier?”
“Sure thing.” Travis kissed his wife quickly and gave me another smile before he left us where we stood.
Haven turned my way. “Now about that hooch…”
I spent the next hour sipping on the surprisingly delicious Solo cup of hooch while chatting with Betty, Burt, and Cricket who were an absolute riot. I gathered that Betty had suffered an injury or perhaps had an illness that made her forget words. How lovely that everyone around her raced to help her find just the right one when she got stuck. And even lovelier that it was usually Burt who suggested the term she’d obviously been searching for. I would have felt warm and fuzzy over the way they looked at each other even without the hooch.
The sun went down, stars glittering in the sky, and the fire crackling in front of us. Travis and the two boys who I learned were their nephews were busy setting up a fireworks show near the lakeshore to our right, and Haven—her baby now strapped to her chest—flitted between us and them and the handful of other employees and close friends who had shown up to celebrate.
Eventually, another couple arrived with a preschool-aged little girl and Haven led them over to me, introducing her brother-in-law, Archer, sister-in-law, Bree, and their daughter, Averie. Bree greeted me warmly and Archer smiled, reaching out his hand to shake mine and then bringing his hands up and signing to Betty, Burt, and Cricket who all signed back.
Even without the introduction, I would have known Archer and Travis were brothers. They weren’t only both exceptionally good-looking, but their amber eyes were mesmerizing. I noticed the scar on Archer’s throat and realized that he was mute, though he could obviously hear since he turned when the two boys who had been setting up fireworks on the beach started yelling, “Mom, Dad! Come see what we bought with Uncle Trav!”
Archer raised his hand and waved to them, then turned and signed something quickly to his wife to which she responded aloud, as her arms were full with the little girl who’d reached up to her in a request to be held. “I’ll stay here with Averie and save you a seat.”
He smiled back, so tenderly I was tempted to sigh with the sweetness of it. And though these people were all warm and welcoming, they also made a yearning stir up inside me for what they so obviously had—love that was the stuff of fairy tales.
And what did I have? Unrequited love. A man who was across town right now probably with his family and possibly the woman he may or may not marry and whisk off to London.
“Averie, honey, do you want a juice box?” Bree asked, breaking me from my self-pitying thoughts.
“No, thank you,” the little girl said from the blanket on a portion of grass where she was now playing with a line of princess figurines that she’d removed from a pink backpack.
Bree smiled over at her daughter.
“I love her name,” I said.
“Oh, thank you.” Bree sat back and took a sip from the Solo cup Haven had handed her when she arrived. “Funny thing, we changed it about five times in the first week of her life.” She turned to me. “There hadn’t been a female Hale since 1912 and I was absolutely convinced I was having another boy. We didn’t even talk about girl names.” She shrugged. “So when she was born, we’d choose one and use it for a little while but none felt right until we settled on Averie Alyssa. She’s named after one of my best friends back home and Archer’s mother, Alyssa.”
I’d been watching Averie carefully remove more toys from her backpack and arrange them on the blanket, but at the sound of the name, I turned toward Bree. “Alyssa?”
She nodded as she swallowed another drink of hooch. “Yes. That was the other reason we settled on Averie. It went well with Alyssa whereas the other names we’d temporarily chosen didn’t. It was important to Archer to use his mother’s name.” She smiled softly. “He lost her when he was young.”
Alyssa.
Lys.
Lys has had it rough here.
Archer Hale’s mother.
Was that even possible? Surely not. Alyssa was a common name. There must be hundreds of them in Pelion and Calliope. If the Lys my mother had referenced over two decades ago still lived here. No Lys had ever sent so much as a condolence card. So, I’d always sort of assumed the Lys she had spoken of had moved away long ago.
