Page 12 of Mountain Man's Surrender

Changing the subject, eh?I let him retreat, even as disappointment coils in my gut.

“Did you pick a name yet?” I ask, scratching under the cat’s chin.

“Still just ‘cat.’”

The little guy leans into my touch, purring loudly, then shoots Landry what seems like a judgmental look with his single amber eye. “What about Patch?”

“He’s not a pirate.”

“Cyclops?”

Landry snorts. “That’s worse than Blinky.”

The levity of the moment, the domestic normality of standing in a sun-drenched kitchen, teasing about cat names while sharing morning coffee after a passionate night together, sends an unexpected pang through me. It feels right in a way that startles me, especially given the upheaval of my life over the past few years and especially months. But, being here, with this complicated man who sets my body on fire, also makes me feel completely at ease. In the chaos of everything, it’s a feeling I want more of. Not that he wants me.

“The storm’s let up.” Landry nods toward the window. Beyond the glass, tree branches are heavy with snow, drifts piled high against the side of the cabin. Water droplets slide down the pane, leaving clear trails in their wake. “But we’re still snowed in. I can plow today, but the roads won’t be cleared until tomorrow at the earliest. Not up here.”

His words remind me of why I’m in Wildwood. The garage, the sale, the broker waiting to close the deal. Reality crashes back, and I twist the pendant at my neck. If I sell the garage, I’ll finally have the capital to launch my jewelry business fulltime. I could move and start fresh, create a real studio space instead of bending low over my cramped kitchen table until late into the night. It’s what I’ve been working toward for years.

But now, standing in this cozy cabin with Landry, in the town where my father lived and worked, I’m struck by an unexpected thought. Could I stay here? Would my father’s ghost haunt me after all I’ve learned and still have to learn about him? Yesterday, I said no way without a moment’s hesitation. Now? I’m not so sure.

“Landry,” I start then pause, taking a sip of coffee to steel myself for whatever will come from my question. “The letter from my mother to Simon. It mentioned an envelope he was to give to me…”

Something shifts in Landry’s expression. “I saw it. A sealed envelope with your name on it.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “Simon took it with him when he left for the city.”

My heart thuds painfully. A message from my mother that I never received. “Where is it now?”

His eyes meet mine, filled with genuine regret. “It wasn’t recovered. I was the one who picked up what was salvaged of Simon’s personal effects after the accident. It wasn’t there.”

I thought I had closure with my mother. We had months together as the end drew close last fall. I thought we’d said everything that needed to be said. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say. I can’t begin to understand the fact she kept the truth from me, even knowing she would pass, leaving me alone in this world.

Maybe that's why she reached out to Simon after all these years. So I wouldn't be alone. Or maybe she didn't say anything because those months were hard enough as it was. I don’t know. And I guess I never will. But now, discovering her last words to me, a letter that held precious details, and maybe even an explanation, is lost forever brings hot, sharp tears to my eyes.

I blink rapidly, drawing a deep breath. “What did Simon say when he got my mother’s letter? How did he…react?”

Landry sets down his mug and leans against the counter, his expression solemn. “He was angry at first. Furious that Jodie had kept you from him all those years.” He pauses, watching my face carefully. “Then heartbroken. He couldn’t believe he had a grown daughter he’d never even met, who he’d been denied the chance to help raise.”

A tear trails slowly down my cheek and drips off my chin. I don’t wipe it away. “My mother always told me he didn’t want us. That he wasn’t ready to be a father.”

“Simon was young when he met your mother,” Landry confirms quietly. “Barely nineteen when he was down in the city for a concert.”

“Were you there?”

He shakes his head. “I was at basic training at Fort Jackson. Jodie was older—”

“Eight years older,” I supply, quickly doing the mental math.

Landry nods. “It was brief, just a weekend fling according to Simon. When they parted ways, he figured that was it. He never knew she was pregnant.” His voice softens. “In some ways, he understood why she did what she did. She was twenty-seven, established in her career. He was just a kid from Vermont with nothing to offer.”

He falls silent for a moment, staring into his half-empty mug. “You never know how life can change in an instant. How a single event can change everything.”

He absently traces the cord of scars running down his neck. My fingers itch to do the same.

The raw honesty in his voice, this glimpse into his pain, makes my heart ache. I step closer, placing my hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets mine, intense and unguarded. “Point is, I know about regrets. About wishing you could go back and change things. Simon felt that way about you, about not knowing you existed. He would have been there if he’d known.”

The revelation slides into place like the last piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve. All this time, I believed my father had rejected us. But he’d never known I existed until it was too late. The unfairness of it all, of growing up without him, of losing him before I even got a chance to meet him, is too much to come to terms with right now.

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