Some Bright Someday (Maple Valley #2) - Melissa Tagg Page 0,118

it did she move any closer. She leaned up to kiss his cheek.

And pierce his heart with her whisper. “I’m just not as noble as you, Luke. I’ll let you walk away now, but I refuse to say goodbye.”

She pulled back, wiped the back of her hand over her eyes, and turned away.

22

Jenessa stood on the cottage doorstep, drawn here by an undeniable beckoning in her spirit.

And the pang in her heart of missing Lucas.

She twisted the doorknob and let herself in, rusty hinges and scuffed floorboards creaking. She’d realized this morning that other than those hasty minutes of finding the Hollis kids here—both the first and second time—she hadn’t really stepped more than a few feet into the little house.

For some reason, this chilly early November morning, with the wind lulling and colorful leaves turning and twisting like ornaments, she’d needed to do this.

Five weeks and three days since I found the kids the first time.

And one week exactly since Lucas had flown back to D.C. with both Noah and the man who’d come to the hospital. He’d come to see her, at least, before leaving for the airport last Monday, though it’d been little more than a repeat of that night in the parking lot. Few words, each one dripping with sadness and regret. A hug, a kiss on the cheek, unanswered questions clogging her throat.

But Sam’s wisdom wouldn’t allow her to voice them. For once, she’d decided to be the quiet one. To let Lucas do what he felt he needed to do.

At least in the pain, there’d also been the incredible joy of having the kids back in her house. Violet had been ecstatic to return to her pink bedroom and Cade had settled back in as if he’d never left. Three days later, Colie had come home, too.

Home.

Jenessa moved into the middle of the cottage’s main room. The coffee mug Lucas had borrowed from the house still sat in the sink at the middle of the kitchenette. Was it her imagination or did the cottage smell like him? Like a stomach-warming mix of pine and mint and—

The table.

Her feet carried her to the rectangle table over in the corner, still splotched with paint and pen marks, wonderfully nicked and scraped. She ran a hand over its surface and smiled. Maybe she should move it to the main house. The kids could use it for homework or crafts.

She plopped into one of the table’s mismatched chairs and pulled out her phone. She probably should’ve made this call before now, but with all the busyness of the past week, she simply hadn’t had a chance. There’d been meetings with Carmen, with Dustin, with a lawyer who would walk her through the numerous hearings and paperwork and steps to come.

There was still a hint of anxiety lurking underneath all the activity. The process for Dustin to officially give up his rights and allow Jenessa to eventually adopt the kids would likely last months, and he could still change his mind.

Yet he seemed resolute. There would be more court dates, more legal steps to cement her role in the children’s lives. But things were moving forward, however slowly.

Jenessa was still trying to discern how to talk to the kids about their father’s decision. It was the kind of thing that could affect all of them in mental and emotional ways they might not even realize until later in life. She was determined to help them process and adjust and heal. She’d already sought out a counselor, asking Carmen for resources.

In the midst of all the upheaval, at least one thing, one decision, had cemented in her mind.

“Good morning, Ms. Belville,” Mayor Milt finally answered.

“Morning. How’s everything at city hall today?”

“Splendid.” He lowered his voice. “Although Joanna—you know my secretary—thinks I need to cut back on caffeine and only made half a pot of coffee today. We’ll see what she says when I fall asleep at my desk come midafternoon. But methinks you have a reason for calling other than to hear about my coffee woes.”

“Actually, I do. It’s about Belville Park, Mayor Milt. I’ve decided not to sell.”

His chuckle sounded in her ear. “Well, of course. I already heard from Joanna who heard from Barney Jeeves, the trash man, that you threw out the For Sale sign last week.”

“I should’ve known.” She leaned her chair against the wall. “Well, I do apologize. I know you’d started thinking about museum opportunities and such.”

“Jenessa, this town already has a heritage railroad