In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,37

groan. God, the thought that he might have crossed a line was unbearable. Hunter hadn’t said anything about it, but that didn’t guarantee that everything was okay. It was on James to bring it up and make amends if needed. And in the meantime, no more binge drinking. It wasn’t worth it.

In spite of his worries, he was relieved to be back here. It still felt safe and peaceful, and the sound of the river was soothing. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling his lungs creak as he filled them completely for the first time in God knew how long.

When he opened his eyes, the light had turned a deeper gold. He blinked and sat up, rubbing his eyes and wondering how long he’d dozed. After a minute, he stood up and headed out to join Hunter in the shop.

Chapter 16: Knowing

The so-called shop took James by surprise. It was big, at least a thousand square feet, and obviously had many functions: woodshop, yes, but also office, storage, library, and gym, just to start. Hunter was sitting at a big metal desk in the front corner, talking on the phone. He met James’s eyes and gestured to an old brown leather couch in the opposite corner, near a wall of industrial metal shelves loaded with books, file boxes, and dry goods.

James wandered over and sank down into the soft cushions, looking around. The woodshop was curtained off with sheets of canvas hung on sturdy rails, currently drawn back to expose an impressive trove of tools and equipment. Small drifts of sawdust on the concrete floor made the whole place smell of cedar and pine. Above was a lofted storage area bearing stacks of lumber and boxes. And not far from where he sat was a weight bench and exercise mat, which inspired him to check Hunter out while he wasn’t looking.

“Well, we’re not going under twenty,” Hunter was saying firmly. “I told you from the get-go the roof was the biggest item. All the same, we’re well within budget here, but if you wanna revisit the scope…”

James listened with interest as his eyes traveled over Hunter’s frame, long and lean and broad in all the right places, making blue jeans and flannel look pornographic. Did he have any idea how hot he was? He had to, right? How was he single? He was, wasn’t he? He had to be, or James would have seen someone with him by now. Who could date a guy like Hunter and not be all over him constantly?

Hunter finished his call and spun his ancient-looking office chair around to face James. “Hey. How you feeling?”

“Better,” James answered automatically, as if he’d been sick. “How’s work?”

“Can’t complain.” Hunter stood up and came over to join him on the couch. “You have something to eat?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Oh.” Hunter looked slightly disappointed. “Well, anyway, I was looking for you all morning. Found out quite a bit about your…about the Woodstocks.”

James laid his arm on the back of the couch and rested his head on his hand, listening in fascination as Hunter described the Woodstocks, Camp Five, and the clan’s reputation for being weird. As obsessed as he was with figuring all this out, he still couldn’t quite connect with the reality of it—the idea that this was his family they were talking about. Even with all the evidence piling up, it still felt like hearsay about a bunch of strangers.

Then Hunter hesitated, and James suddenly knew things were about to turn a corner.

“Wish I knew how to put this,” Hunter said reluctantly, and looked at James with a touch of worry. “You ever heard the name Ruth Woodstock?”

James immediately remembered the computer screen at City Hall. “Grace’s mother.”

“Right. Well, Deenie—that’s who I went fishing with—I guess she was good friends with Ruth. So was my grandma Marni. Deenie said they were thick as thieves.”

“Our grandmothers were friends?” James wasn’t sure he was understanding correctly. “Yours and mine?”

“Yeah.” Hunter looked as disarmed as he was. “Guess it makes sense, if they all lived out here at the same time. Anyway, that also means Deenie knew your mom. Grace.”

James looked at him again, trying to ignore the dull pinch in his chest. “When?”

Hunter told him the rest. Ruth’s death, Grace running away, Deenie knowing she owned the land, and the sorry fact that Deenie didn’t know what had happened three months ago.

Then Hunter fell quiet again, as if something was troubling him, and James braced