Stepping into a pair of sweatpants, I head out of the bedroom. I expect to see her in the living room, but she’s not there. Knocking on the door to the spare room, I get no response. “Rowan,” I whisper-yell.
Where the hell is she?
Turning back down the short hallway, I go into the kitchen and see a note sitting on the table next to a cold cup of Dunkin coffee and a wrapped up breakfast sandwich.
You got your wish. I’m gone. But not as far as you’d probably like. I’ll be staying at the bed-and-breakfast in town. I meant what I said. I’m not leaving until I have what I came here for.
Pulling up to the Old Kraft House, I immediately spot her beige little car. There are only a couple other cars in the parking lot, so it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out that she was here, even if she didn’t give me a name of the place where she was staying.
When I walk in, I’m immediately greeted by Mrs. Hill with a huge smile on her face. “Good evening, Nash. It’s so nice to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, Mrs. Hill. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of one of your guests, Rowan Shane.”
“Oh, Nash, I wish I could.” She rakes her fingers through her short peppered hair. “Unfortunately, we can’t share any information on our guests.”
“Right.” I nod. “Okay, I’ll just wait over here until she comes out.” I point at a bench to the left.
Confusion sweeps the smile off her face. “Umm, okay. I suppose that will fine. You might be waiting a long time.”
Taking a seat, I return with a smile. “That’s no problem.” I cross my arms over my chest and pull out my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants.
“I’ll tell you what.” She pulls my eyes out of my phone. “I’ll just ring her room and let her know she has company.”
Sticking it back in my pocket, I retort, “That would be great. Thank you.”
Right as she picks up the phone, I stop her. “Mrs. Hill, could you do me a favor and not tell her my name?”
Giving me an odd look, she presses a button on the phone and begins talking right away, “Ms. Shane, I’m sorry to bother you, but there is a gentleman”—her eyes shoot to me—“here to see you in the lobby.” She pauses for a beat. “I sure will. Enjoy your evening.”
When she puts the phone down, I jump up and stick both hands in my pockets. “Well?”
“She’ll be right out.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Three minutes later, Rowan walks out wearing a pair of far too short shorts and a shirt that doesn’t even make an attempt to cover her stomach. As soon as she lays eyes on me, she lets out a much too dramatic sigh. “Of course.” She throws her hands up. “I should have known.”
“Just give me five minutes, please.” I look over at Mrs. Hill, who has her elbows pressed against the tall countertop and her chin resting on her hands. Leave it to Mrs. Hill to try and catch some small town drama. She’d just love to share all of this with the ladies at bingo night. Looking back to Rowan, I nod toward the open dining room to the right. “Over there.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffs and puffs with each step. “Make this quick. I was in the middle of making some calls.”
With my hands still in my pockets, I toy with my keys and wallet in one pocket, and my phone in the other. “Listen, I’m not going to apologize,” I blurt out without thinking first.
Throwing her arms in the air again, she releases a drawn out breath, “Of course you’re not. That would be above you.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant to say was, “I’m not going to apologize for how I feel. Rowan, you showed up at my door yesterday demanding things I can’t give you. I’ve met you one time and it was a hi and bye encounter. All I have to go on with you is what I’ve witnessed through Gemma over the past year.”
“I just want her journal then I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll help you find this journal, if you’ll come back and stay at the house. Gemma wouldn’t want her only sister staying at a bed-and-breakfast when our home is right down the road.”
She immediately shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll keep my crude comments to myself.”
Lifting her head to look at me, the sadness returns. “The fact that you even have crude thoughts about me is the exact reason why I need to stay here.”
“This would be a good opportunity for you to prove to me that you are not the person I make you out to be.”
Sadness is replaced by anger in the blink of an eye. “I shouldn’t have to prove anything to you!”
She has a point.
“Okay, bad choice of words. Come back to the house so I can prove to you that I’m not the asshole who spewed hate at you this morning.”
“I can’t.”
My phone begins buzzing in my pocket. Out of memory of the key placement, I end the call without even pulling it out. “And why can’t you?” My head instinctively tilts to the side to get a look at her expression that now proves to be nervousness.
She begins to speak, but stops herself. “I...it’s not you. It’s me. Well, it is you, but not for the reasons you think.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I’m trying.” She draws in a deep breath. “Gemma’s death saved my life, Nash. I was prepared to take my life until I found out she took hers.”
Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. “You wanted to commit suicide?” I question, trying to get a better understanding of what she’s saying.
Her head drops down as she begins bending her flip-flop underneath her toes. Watching her own movements, she continues, “I’ve battled depression, too. When Gemma passed away, it was a wakeup call for me. As soon as I found out, I admitted myself to a psychiatric hospital in Los Angeles. That’s why I wasn’t at the funeral. That’s why I suck so bad at being a sister.”
“Shit, Rowan. Why didn’t you just say something?” A stray tear drops onto her bare foot. Pushing her chin up with my thumb, I force her to look at me. “You could have told me.”
“Yeah, okay.” She mocks herself, “Hey, Nash. Sorry I missed my sister’s funeral. I was in a mental institution because I didn’t want to live anymore either. Sorry my sister had to die to save my life, but how have you been?”
Damn. I had no idea. I knew about Gemma’s battles, but I never took into consideration that her sister might be struggling, too.
“Okay.” I nod in agreement. “What can I do to help?”
Her forehead scrunches together in an array of lines as she bites at the corner of her lip. “Be nice?”
I can be nice. It’s not like it’s hard.
“I promise I will treat you better. Okay?”
“You’ll stop forcing back up the guilt that I carry for missing so much?’
“I promise I will stop now that I am seeing the picture more clearly.”
Taking a minute to think about it, she chews on her bottom lip again, then nods and a smile slowly raises her cheekbones. “Okay. I’ll come back.”