Page 28
A chill runs through me. "What accident?"
"They were seventeen, out driving on a rainy night like last night. The car went off Crescent Ridge and plunged into the ravine. Will died instantly. James was thrown clear and survived with just a broken arm." Edith's voice softens. "Two weeks later, James left town. Never came back, as far as I know."
“That’s what he meant when he wrote about 'unfinished business' here." I say.
"Survivor's guilt," Riley says, his expression grim. "He blamed himself for his friend's death and carried that weight for decades."
"Exactly so," Edith confirms. "The town never blamed him—it was a terrible accident, nothing more. But James couldn't forgive himself. And I suspect he couldn't face the Carter family, especially not after how they treated him at the funeral."
"What happened?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know.
"Harold Carter—Riley's grandfather—told James he was no longer welcome in Cedar Falls. That no Mitchell would ever be welcome again." Edith sighs. "It was grief talking, of course. Losing a child... it changes people. But those words must have haunted your father."
"And that's why he wanted to return," I realize. "To make peace somehow, before he died."
"I believe so," Edith says gently. "Though whether he would have found that peace, only he would know."
We sit in silence for a moment, absorbing this revelation. Finally, Riley speaks, his voice trembling with emotion.
"So, our families have been at odds for over a century because of a fire that may or may not have been arson and then a tragic accident that no one was to blame for."
"That's the way of feuds," Edith says with a shrug. "They take on a life of their own, long after the original grievances are forgotten."
"Like what happened with Josh," I say softly, reaching for Riley's hand under the table.
He nods, fingers tightening around mine. "History repeating itself."
Edith looks between us, a knowing smile on her face. "Or perhaps history being rewritten," she suggests. "A Carter and a Mitchell, together at last. Quite poetic, don't you think?"
After finishing our coffee and helping Edith clean up, we walk her to the door. She pauses on the threshold, turning to face us.
"The historical society is open today, if you want to look through the archives," she tells me. "There are photographs, newspaper clippings, even some personal letters that might help you understand your father's connection to this place."
"Thank you," I say sincerely. "For everything."
"My pleasure, dear." She pats my arm, then looks at Riley. "And you—don't be a stranger. This cottage could use a man's touch from time to time."
Riley's lips twitch. "Yes, ma'am."
With a final knowing smile, Edith departs, leaving Riley and me alone once more.
"Well," I say after a moment, "that was..."
"Illuminating," Riley finishes for me. "In more ways than one."
I move into his arms, needing the reassurance of his touch after all we've learned. "What do you think? About our families, the feud, all of it?"
He's quiet for a moment, his hand stroking my back in a soothing rhythm. "I think," he says finally, "that we have a chance to break the cycle. To write a different ending to this story."
I look up at him, hope blooming in my chest. "You want that? To continue this—us—whatever we are?"
His amber eyes meet mine, serious but warm. "I do. I know it's fast, maybe crazy, but..." He shakes his head slightly. "I've never felt this way before. Like something that was missing has finally clicked into place."
"I feel it too," I admit, resting my head against his chest. "I came to Cedar Falls looking for answers about my father, but I think I found something I didn't even know I was searching for."
"What happens now?" Riley asks, his voice rumbling beneath my ear.
I smile, feeling more certain than I have in years. "Now we go to the historical society. I want to see those archives and learn more about my father's time here. And then..."
"They were seventeen, out driving on a rainy night like last night. The car went off Crescent Ridge and plunged into the ravine. Will died instantly. James was thrown clear and survived with just a broken arm." Edith's voice softens. "Two weeks later, James left town. Never came back, as far as I know."
“That’s what he meant when he wrote about 'unfinished business' here." I say.
"Survivor's guilt," Riley says, his expression grim. "He blamed himself for his friend's death and carried that weight for decades."
"Exactly so," Edith confirms. "The town never blamed him—it was a terrible accident, nothing more. But James couldn't forgive himself. And I suspect he couldn't face the Carter family, especially not after how they treated him at the funeral."
"What happened?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know.
"Harold Carter—Riley's grandfather—told James he was no longer welcome in Cedar Falls. That no Mitchell would ever be welcome again." Edith sighs. "It was grief talking, of course. Losing a child... it changes people. But those words must have haunted your father."
"And that's why he wanted to return," I realize. "To make peace somehow, before he died."
"I believe so," Edith says gently. "Though whether he would have found that peace, only he would know."
We sit in silence for a moment, absorbing this revelation. Finally, Riley speaks, his voice trembling with emotion.
"So, our families have been at odds for over a century because of a fire that may or may not have been arson and then a tragic accident that no one was to blame for."
"That's the way of feuds," Edith says with a shrug. "They take on a life of their own, long after the original grievances are forgotten."
"Like what happened with Josh," I say softly, reaching for Riley's hand under the table.
He nods, fingers tightening around mine. "History repeating itself."
Edith looks between us, a knowing smile on her face. "Or perhaps history being rewritten," she suggests. "A Carter and a Mitchell, together at last. Quite poetic, don't you think?"
After finishing our coffee and helping Edith clean up, we walk her to the door. She pauses on the threshold, turning to face us.
"The historical society is open today, if you want to look through the archives," she tells me. "There are photographs, newspaper clippings, even some personal letters that might help you understand your father's connection to this place."
"Thank you," I say sincerely. "For everything."
"My pleasure, dear." She pats my arm, then looks at Riley. "And you—don't be a stranger. This cottage could use a man's touch from time to time."
Riley's lips twitch. "Yes, ma'am."
With a final knowing smile, Edith departs, leaving Riley and me alone once more.
"Well," I say after a moment, "that was..."
"Illuminating," Riley finishes for me. "In more ways than one."
I move into his arms, needing the reassurance of his touch after all we've learned. "What do you think? About our families, the feud, all of it?"
He's quiet for a moment, his hand stroking my back in a soothing rhythm. "I think," he says finally, "that we have a chance to break the cycle. To write a different ending to this story."
I look up at him, hope blooming in my chest. "You want that? To continue this—us—whatever we are?"
His amber eyes meet mine, serious but warm. "I do. I know it's fast, maybe crazy, but..." He shakes his head slightly. "I've never felt this way before. Like something that was missing has finally clicked into place."
"I feel it too," I admit, resting my head against his chest. "I came to Cedar Falls looking for answers about my father, but I think I found something I didn't even know I was searching for."
"What happens now?" Riley asks, his voice rumbling beneath my ear.
I smile, feeling more certain than I have in years. "Now we go to the historical society. I want to see those archives and learn more about my father's time here. And then..."