But Rory would have to tell Serenity the full truth if he made the move. What if she couldn’t handle it or still didn’t want to marry him because he’d hidden the truth from her? Then he really would have to let her go.
Which would pretty much rip out his heart.
Chapter 4
After a day of debating whether or not she should order more shovels, Serenity hauled her groceries out of her SUV in her perfectly organized garage. Her quaint house was on the edge of town adjacent to Miss Millie’s farm, and she loved the quiet peacefulness around her. The sense of tranquility, even with another snowstorm on the way, calmed her like it always did.
The only other structure visible from her front porch was Miss Millie’s farmhouse. While Serenity owned one acre and was proud to maintain it, Miss Millie owned about a hundred and grew apple and plum trees, as well as all sorts of vegetables and wild strawberries that she sold at the farmers market in the summer.
Snow blanketed the entire area, but the chicken coop looked warm and inviting behind Millie’s farmhouse, next to the forest. Serenity looked up at the wonderful home that her mother had raised her in before moving to Timber City. The harmonious blend of country-style and classic architecture with warm, weathered bricks and darkened cedarwood felt like love.
The inside had one bedroom, a living room, a family room, and an upstairs area she now used as an office. The quaint space had been her bedroom growing up. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She schlepped her groceries into the kitchen to leave on the counter.
Whimsical wallpaper featuring faded honeysuckle vines covered the walls and probably needed to be replaced, but it had been there for as long as she could remember, and it didn’t seem practical to change it. Although, she had updated the appliances to stainless steel and the counters to a beautiful white and silver quartz that sparkled when the sun shone through the windows.
She loved things that sparkled, whether she admitted it out loud or not.
She traded her gloves for a thicker pair, grabbed a shovel, and hustled back outside to clear her walkway and driveway. The air was frigid against her cheeks, stinging the skin, and she wished she’d remembered a scarf.
Sighing, she finished her area and ran over to Miss Millie’s to hurriedly shovel her driveway and walkway before the woman could stop her, warming from the effort. Miss Millie’s walkway was longer than hers, and by the time Serenity finished with the farmhouse’s long porch, she was sweating.
The door opened, and Brandon Castleberry hopped out. “Serenity, you don’t have to do that.” The teenager shook his head. “Honest, I was going to get out here—”
“No.” She cut him off, looking down at the cast covering his left ankle all the way up past his knee. “You know you’re not supposed to be out here shoveling.” The kid had gotten into a car accident three weeks before and had undergone multiple surgeries already.
He scratched his head and ruffled his hair, which was already standing on end. Brandon was sixteen with earnest brown eyes and a fit physique, and he often took care of his Grandma Millie. She’d taken him in years ago after his parents died, and it was obvious the kid was itching to get back outside.
“It’s okay, Brandon.” Serenity leaned on the shovel. “I needed the exercise, and I know the doctor told you to take it easy for at least another few weeks.”
Brandon sagged against the doorframe, looking much thinner than he had just a month before. The kid was a starter on the high school football team, but the season was over, and he had plenty of time to heal. “I know, but it’s driving me nuts,” he said. “I’ve been trying to relax and elevate my leg like Doc told me to, but honestly...” He looked at the freshly shoveled driveway with what could only be termed longing.
“Brandon, what are you doing?” Millie yelled.
“Hey, Millie, it’s just me,” Serenity called.
Rustling sounded, and Millie partially slid to her grandson’s side. Their farmhouse was two stories, probably twice the size of Serenity’s home, and painted a barn red that had faded nicely over the years.
The woman smiled. “Serenity, come in and have something to eat. Oh, no. You didn’t just shovel my walk, did you?” She looked down at the shovel. “I was going to head out and do it, but I wanted to finish baking these pies first.”
“It was no problem,” Serenity said. “I know Brandon isn’t supposed to do anything physical yet, and I wanted to get to it before he did.”
“Oh, yeah.” Millie laughed and nudged her grandson. “I almost had to sit on him to keep him from coming out here earlier today.”
While Brandon was dressed casually in faded, low-slung jeans and a basketball T-shirt, Millie wore a light pink dress beneath a well-loved purple and green apron. Her hair was a mass of dark gray curls, and her eyes a twinkling blue. “Well, come on in. Will you have some pie?”
“I would,” Serenity started, “but I left groceries on the counter.”
Brandon sniffed the air and smiled. “The apple pie is ready. I can tell. How about a rain check, Serenity?”
“Absolutely.” Her stomach growled.
Brandon pushed away from the doorway. “I’ll escort you back to your place.”
“The heck you will.” Millie slapped his arm.
Serenity laughed. “If you two need anything, let me know.”
She slogged through the rapidly falling snow to her house, ditched her boots in her mudroom, and quickly put away her groceries. Darkness was already descending, and she glanced at her watch, somewhat surprised she hadn’t heard from Rory. Had he given up that easily? Truth be told, after he’d dropped by the hardware store the night before, she’d expected him to show up again or at least call.
A plaintive meow caught her ear. She tossed her cotton grocery bags into the pantry before striding into the comfortable living room with its generously appointed sofa and armchairs that she had upholstered herself in light green fabric. Practical white pillows adorned both ends of the couch and the chair cushion. She’d wanted to sew some sparkles on them, but they just didn’t fit the farmhouse. “What do you want?” she teased.
Rufus meowed again as if irritated she hadn’t immediately sought him out.
“You are so cranky.” She bent down to ruffle his fur.
The cat was a bit unkempt, no matter how often she brushed him. His fur was thick and gray, and his eyes were an iridescent green that held both a grumpy skepticism and a soft hint of mischief. He was oversized but in decent shape.
“Did you have a good day?” She adored the old guy.
He purred against her hand. She often took him to the hardware store with her, so he wasn’t alone all day, but he hadn’t been in the mood that morning. He was the moodiest cat she’d ever met, yet he was all hers.
“Come on. I bought you some treats.” She led him into the kitchen, where she filled a little bowl with his favorite yummies.
He gave her one look as if saying, It’s about time, and then slowly started eating.
“You are so grumpy,” she muttered, her stomach growling again. Apparently it was a night for canned soup.
Her doorbell rang, and she paused in opening the pantry. Before the phone calls and the odd flowers, she wouldn’t have thought twice about her doorbell ringing after dark. Now she froze for just a second.