Mountain Charm (16 page)

“Some freelance offers.”

“Freelance wouldn’t be a bad place to start,” Patti said.

Dylan glanced up from his cell. His mom’s brown eyes were soft as she smiled at her son. She’d been supportive about the entire situation, and he was thankful.

Patti Thomas gazed at her son. While she didn’t completely understand why he had quit his job, she admired his resolve to follow his heart. When he had unexpectedly shown up on her doorstep, she’d known in an instant that something monumental had taken place on his assignment in the mountains. Desperate to talk to someone, Dylan had spilled his guts to his mom, and while she wasn’t sure how she felt about this witchcraft business, she couldn’t ignore the way his eyes lit up whenever he mentioned Angelina’s name. Watching her son mope around for days had been strangely satisfying. He was talented and had always been passionate about his dreams to become a serious writer, but to see him head over heels for this woman definitely warmed her heart.

He was young, in love, and unemployed.

Patti tried not to dwell on that last detail. Besides, she had something important to share, and she had no idea how her son was going to react.

“I’m glad you’re home, because I have some news.”

Dylan glanced up from his phone. “Oh?”

“Charles called.”

“Charles who?”

“Your father.”

He snorted. “Well, that only took twenty years. Did you tell him to go to hell?”

“Yes, I did.”

Dylan smiled. “Good for you.”

“But then he called back. Three times. He works in publishing and saw one of your articles. He didn’t go into details, and I didn’t ask, but he was impressed with your work. He’d like to talk to you.”

“I hope you told him there was no way in hell that was ever going to happen.”

“I told him the decision was yours. You’re an adult. This has to be your choice.” Patti searched her son’s face. “Aren’t you at all tempted to hear what he has to say?”

“He left you penniless and me without a father. Why would I be interested in anything the man says?”

Patti nodded. “I understand that. I don’t need your father’s apology, but I think he owes you one. Besides, he’s your dad, and I think you’re just now realizing how important family can be.”

“
You
are my family.”

“You know what I mean.”

Dylan couldn’t deny that, since meeting Angelina and her mom, he’d come to value the sanctity of family. Still, it had taken his father two decades to reach out to him, and Dylan wasn’t feeling very charitable.

“Will you at least think about it?” his mom asked.

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“But
will
you?”

Dylan sighed. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

They said goodnight, and Patti headed upstairs while Dylan continued scrolling through his phone. There was a copy editor position open at an Asheville newspaper, and he mentally calculated the mileage between there and Maple Ridge.

Suddenly, he felt his chest tighten. It was the weirdest sensation, and his entire body froze. He inhaled sharply and tried to catch his breath as suffocating panic flowed through his veins.

Something’s wrong.

“You’re very quiet tonight,” Celia said.

“Sorry.”

The two of them were sitting on the couch. Celia was watching television while Angelina stared at the walls, feeling nothing but lost and alone. Cash was lying between them, with his head propped on her leg.

Angelina’s mind was on a constant loop.

My mother has breast cancer.

Again.

Stupidly, foolishly, she had hoped the chemo would do its job. And now her mother was facing another surgery? Another round of treatments?

Would it make any difference whatsoever?

“Don’t be sorry, Angelina. Just talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Whatever you want to say.”

Her mother’s patience was endless, but Angelina was too upset and far too bitter to have a rational conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was to make her mom feel guilty about something that was completely out of her control.

The only person Angelina could really talk to was hundreds of miles away.

Celia sighed. “I’m tougher than you think.”

Angelina’s father had told her the same thing—right here on this couch.

She took a breath.

She could be bitter later. She could cry later. Right now, she had to be strong for her mom.

“I know you’re tough,” Angelina said, trying to sound brave. “I am, too, and I’ll be right here, every step of the way. You know that, right?”

Her mother smiled. “I know you will.”

It was late when they said goodnight. Before climbing into bed, Angelina checked her cell and noticed a text and several voice mails from Dylan. She wanted to call him. She
needed
to call him, but it was late. Besides, this news would have him speeding back to Maple Ridge, and as much as she needed him, she didn’t want to be selfish.

Dylan needed time, and she would give it to him.

Rest didn’t come easy. Angelina lay in bed for hours, tossing and turning. Her thoughts were jumbled and scared as she contemplated the possibility of a life without her mom. It was in her nature to be a cynic. Humans were imperfect, religion was complicated, and magic was complex, so the concept of faith was a tough one for Angelina. While she had inherited most of her mother’s traits, Celia’s unwavering sense of calm was the one quality her daughter failed to possess. Angelina would gladly trade her big blue eyes and mystical wisdom for an ounce of her mom’s serenity.

There, in the darkness of her bedroom, Angelina finally allowed herself to cry.

Angelina’s bed was much too warm. She felt gentle fingertips against her cheek and opened her eyes, blinking sleepily as she focused on his face.

“Hi,” she whispered, certain she was dreaming.

“Hi.”

Dylan was lying next to her, with his cheek pressed against the pillow.

“You’re here.

“I’m here.”

“In my room.”

“Yeah.”

“In my bed.”

He grinned. “Is that okay?”

It was more than okay. It was absolutely perfect.

“I’m so glad you’re here. How did you get in?”

“Your mom. She was sitting out on the porch when I arrived.”

Confused, Angelina turned her head, glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand.

“Mom was outside at three in the morning?”

“Yeah. She said she’d been waiting for me—whatever that means. There was an accident on I-40 or I would have been here hours ago.”

So the psychic had a vision and failed to tell her daughter.

Thanks a lot, Mom.

“I didn’t expect you until next week. Why’d you come back so early?”

“Because you needed me.”

Their eyes remained locked on one another as he caressed her face.

“How did you know I needed you?”

“I was sitting in my mom’s living room when I had this sudden, overpowering, suffocating need to see you. I’d missed you the entire time I was away, but
this
. . . this was so different. And then you didn’t answer your phone. It terrified me, and I don’t scare easily. But I
knew
. I knew you needed me, so here I am.”

“I did need you,” she admitted. “I mean, I
do.
I do need you.”

“What’s wrong?”

Angelina tried to blink back her tears, but they fell anyway as she told him about the doctor’s diagnosis.

“I’m scared, and I’m bitter. I just . . . I don’t understand cancer. I’ll never understand it. They pump you full of poison for weeks and weeks, only for you to be told it didn’t
work
? It didn’t make one bit of difference? But we’re going to do it again? Oh, and this time, you’re going to be even
sicker
?
”

Dylan pulled her close, and she buried her face against his neck. She cried and cried until she was sure she had no more tears to shed. Then he would say something sweet and hold her a little tighter, and Angelina would just weep harder.

Eventually, her tears subsided, leaving her feeling shattered and drained.

“You should sleep,” Dylan said. He kissed her forehead and started to rise from the bed.

Panic gripped her. “Where are you going?”

“Just to the couch, sweetheart. I can’t check in at the motel until morning.”

“I wish you’d stay. Stay here with me.”

 Dylan wanted that, more than anything.

“Are you sure? What about Celia?”

Angelina smiled for the first time in days. Dylan had no way of knowing that finding them in bed together—even if it was completely innocent—would be the highlight of her mother’s year.

“She let you into my bedroom, didn’t she?”

Dylan couldn’t argue with that. He rose up just long enough to kick off his shoes before snuggling under the blanket. Angelina rested her head against his chest, and he buried his nose in her hair as his arms enveloped her.

“Celia’s going to be okay,” he murmured sleepily. Then he laughed. “It’s too bad there aren’t any psychic witches in your family. I bet if we had a crystal ball, we’d see that your mom is going to be just fine.”

That was another thing he had no way of knowing. They
did
have a psychic in the family. And that’s when Angelina realized that maybe her mother didn’t possess some unwavering sense of calm after all. Perhaps Celia’s serenity came from knowing she would, indeed, be okay.

Angelina felt a glimmer of hope swell in her heart, and she closed her eyes.

The morning sun beamed through her window. It was far too bright, and her eyes snapped open.

Am I late for work?

A set of strong arms tightened around her, pulling her back against his chest, and the shop was quickly forgotten. Smiling, Angelina snuggled deeper, tugging the blanket around them.

“You’re beautiful, but you snore like a lumberjack,” Dylan murmured against her ear.

A giggling Angelina slid her hand along his arm before linking their fingers together.

“I don’t snore.”

Dylan laughed softly and placed a kiss just below her ear.

“Good morning, baby.”

She smiled, loving the endearment. “Good morning. This is nice.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. Maybe I should move in.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Think Celia would mind?”

Angelina laughed. “Celia would be thrilled.”

For a moment, she felt guilty for being so happy, knowing what her mother would soon be facing. Dylan sensed her change in mood, because he held her a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss against her neck.

“I really missed you, Angelina.”

“I missed you, too.”

“I thought a lot about what you said—about the spell and how you’re afraid to trust that my feelings are real. And I understand because I’m a skeptic, too. I believe in your healing touch, obviously, but I probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t witnessed it. But
this
. . . what I feel for you . . . what I’ve felt for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. This is real, Angelina. I know it is.”