Page 9 of Clashing Moon

The room was already warming from the fire. I shrugged out of my jacket, hanging it on a peg near the woodstove to dry. Arabella did the same with hers. I put our gloves near the fire as well.

“Are you okay?”

She gave me a look that reminded me of Mama. Like Mother, there was something formidable about this woman.Not intimidating, exactly. She possessed a quality that was more difficult to pinpoint than I had the vocabulary for. One she’d had since we were kids. Somewhere between guarded and aggressive. Seeing her with her father these last few months and the way he treated her, I understood better why she’d worked to make a life for herself outside of this town and away from her father’s cruelty.

I took a second glance at the two jackets hanging side by side, struck by how nice they looked together. They were the same dark blue, puffy style, only hers was significantly smaller than mine.

My watch told me it was nearing ten in the morning. I was grateful I wore the old-fashioned kind instead of one connected to a smartphone. We’d not been out here for long, even though it had felt like an eternity.

“What do we do now?” Arabella asked.

“Wait it out, I guess.”

3

ARABELLA

“We could play cards. Take our minds off of things?” I suggested, even though my heart wasn’t in it. The urge to curl into a ball on the cot seemed much more appealing. “There’s a deck of cards in the trunk. Some puzzles, too.”

“Will it help you? Or would you rather just curl up on the cot and rest?”

His question surprised me. How had he predicted my thoughts? “Am I that obvious?”

“You’re worried about your dad. How could you not be? And you’re exhausted.”

I sank onto the cot, wishing I could lie down but sitting instead, resting my back against the wall. “He’s been so awful lately. There have been many times over the past few months that I wished he wasn’t…here.”

“I know it’s been hard on you. You’ve done really well with him.”

“Coming back here has been difficult. I had a lot of plans for my life, and none of them involved moving home to take care of a mean old man.”

Rafferty sat in one of the chairs by the table. “What did you want to do?”

“I had an offer to join the practice where I worked in LA. I would’ve loved to and would have if my dad hadn’t gotten so bad so fast.”

“I’m sorry your dreams have been put on hold.”

“Except for my dad, it hasn’t been bad. Turns out I missed Montana. Even though there’s a lot of bad memories here, it’s still home.” I curled onto my side, resting my head in the crook of my arm. “What about you? What made you come back here? I would’ve figured you for a city guy. You know, working for a big hospital or something.”

“Yeah, I thought I wanted to be a surgeon, but I changed my mind and decided a general practitioner of a small practice was better suited for me. I don’t like people telling me what to do.”

I smiled. “That tracks with what I know about you.”

“I figured out I only wanted to be a surgeon because it was the hardest path, not because I really wanted to. What I enjoy about being a doctor is interacting with patients. Then I found out the doctor here was retiring and selling his practice, and I thought maybe it was a sign.”

“You don’t seem like the type to follow a sign,” I said.

Rafferty lifted one shoulder. “I guess I am. Pop taught me that. Anyway, here I am.”

“No regrets?” I asked.

“No, not really.”

“What’s the not really part?”

“It’s great to be back with my family, but the social scene here isn’t exactly thriving.”

“You mean there are no single women?” I asked.

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