Tansy didn’t say a word. She sat staring up at him with red-rimmed puffy eyes.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting on the stool in front of her. As much as he wanted to touch her, he didn’t.
Tansy blinked again. “I’m a mess.” Her voice was brittle.
His heart twisted sharply. Dane nodded, clenching his hands to keep from reaching for her. “I know the feeling.”
“Oh, do you?” Tansy set her teacup down and pressed her fingers to her temples. “One minute, I know what’s right. I can see it and feel it and everything is crystal clear. And then, a tiny thread of doubt slips in and I’m wondering what’s real and why I’m such a fool where you’re concerned.”
“You’re not a fool. You’re...you’re pretty damn perfect. I’m the fool.” He tried to smile. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Tansy. Whatever it’s telling you, it’s right.”
“Not my heart?” Her eyes flashed his way. “I can’t listen to b-both—they’re telling me different things.”
“Talk to me, Tansy.” He swallowed. “Please.”
She stared at him for a long time before she asked, “What would you do to protect your home or people you love?”
“Anything I had to.” He frowned. “You’d do the same.”
“Not if it meant sabotaging—hurting—someone else.” She broke off, then said, “I wouldn’t burn down your apiaries or hall any more than you’d steal the recipe Aunt Camellia and I have worked on for months.”
“What?” Dane was lost.
“It’s for the honey contest. If we don’t win, we will lose everything, Dane. Honey Hill Farms will be no more...” She shook her head. “But the recipe is missing and that thread of doubt won’t let go. Any more than you can say, with absolute certainty, that Astrid and I didn’t have anything to do with that fire.”
Dane was confused now. “Icansay it, with absolute certainty. You’d never do that.” He sifted through her words again, the ache in his stomach spreading up and into his heart.
“You know how the fire started?” Magnolia cut in.
Dane didn’t look at the woman. “Wait. You think I did this? I took this recipe? Why?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a Knudson did.” Magnolia’s tone was brusque. “Your Viking Clover Honey is from our family Bee Log.”
Dane sat back, gripping the stool to stay upright. “Oh my God. He wouldn’t...” He stopped himself. He might not want to admit it but his father would do something this heinous. “I’m so sorry.” He stood, running a hand along the back of his neck. “It’s not enough, I know that. I don’t know how to ever make up for what he stole.” He ran a hand over his face, the anger and loss and grief pushing their way up until he couldn’t stay quiet.
“You asked me if I would do anything for the people I loved and I said yes. You’re first in that category, Tansy. I’d never hurt you intentionally. Last night feels like a bad dream.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want you to go, I didn’t want to let you out of my sight. But he started and Leif...” He shook his head. “He’s come so far but last night...” He swallowed. “I couldn’t leave him. And I knew, if my father kept talking to you like that, I’d have to stop him. That’s why I asked you to go.” He drew in a deep breath, his heart cut wide. “I’m not my father. I never will be. I’d never take something from you or your family.” He shook his head. “If you’re doubting that, then maybe I’m the fool for listening to my heart and not my head. If you can’t trust me, trust us, then how can we have anything?” He headed for the steps, hating the burn in his eyes and the vise squeezing his chest. “I’ve got to get home—insurance...” Which didn’t make a bit of sense, but he didn’t care.
He kept his eyes away from the porch as he backed the truck down the drive and out onto the road. It didn’t matter how exhausted he was or how much his lungs ached, he had to keep going—keep doing—so losing Tansy, on top of everything else, didn’t bring him to his knees.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TANSYTOSSEDHERwadded-up tissue on top of the pile she’d already used. The box was empty, so she tossed it across the room and hugged her pillow to her chest. She’d pleaded a headache after Dane had left and been crying off and on ever since.
Dane. Oh, Dane.
A new sob rose up so she smothered it into her pillow. He loved her. He was worried about her. And she’d accused him of terrible things.
Her head ached, her eyes itched and her heart was obliterated.
First, she needed a pain reliever. She sat up, kicked off her blankets and went downstairs for some tea. In the kitchen, the radio was on low, big band tunes playing softly as Mags hummed along. She leaned over a puzzle, assembling what appeared to be the Eiffel Tower. Shelby sat at the end of the table, sorting through pieces and laying them along the edge. Baby Bea slept in the bouncy seat, Jammie and Beeswax lying on either side like dozing feline sentries.
Aunt Camellia sat, the dogs piled around her feet, in one of the large wicker chairs, knitting.
“I thought he was in trouble.” Tansy pointed at Lord Byron, sleeping on the perch behind Aunt Camellia’s chair.
“If he takes one more of my puzzle pieces, I’m making him into a stew.” But there was none of the usual bite to Aunt Mags’s threat.
“I’ll make corn bread to go with it.” Aunt Camellia grinned at Tansy.
