Page 3 of Forbidden to Fall

I almost jumped at the sound of May’s voice behind me.

She was staring at the picture over my shoulder, two glasses of caramel-colored tea in hand, a nostalgic sheen in her eyes, and a smile on her lips.

“They were,” I said as she handed me my sweet tea.

We sipped from our glasses in silence as we looked at the pictures. There were no recent photos anywhere. The entire wall was an homage to times past. I could almost imagine Ryan and James bursting through the front door any second, me just behind, trying to keep up.

My gaze fixed on a more recent photo of James. Later than high school but before he’d left Autumn Ridge. He wasn’t smiling at all, just staring into the camera with that intensity he’d developed—the intensity a young filly like me had always found so magnetic. In my teenage mental encyclopedia, the entry for tall, dark, and handsome had a picture of James Carver beneath it. No words necessary.

Unfortunately, he’d also come to feature under the entry for selfish and spectacularly bad life decisions.

“He’s a handsome boy, isn’t he?” May said.

I nodded, but her use of the present tense glitched in my brain. James Carver existed only in memory, like Han Solo in his carbonite prison. I wondered if May knew how much I’d idolized him before the falling out between Ryan and him.

She must. May Carver was the type of woman who just knew.

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“British Columbia.”

My brows went up. I didn’t know what I’d expected. All I’d ever known was that James had left Autumn Ridge without so much as a goodbye to anyone—or a hey, sorry I royally screwed you over to Ryan—and that he hadn’t come back.

“Do you ever visit him?” I asked. The thought that this wall was the one place May still had her son made me sad, but maybe they had Zoom calls every night.

“No, I can’t leave the farm that long. But he’s come to visit a few times.”

My head came around. “Here?”

She nodded.

I blinked. I had no idea James had been back to Autumn Ridge. Ever.

May smiled like she could hear my thoughts. “He doesn’t like to make a fuss of it.”

That made sense. James hadn’t ever been the type to announce himself with fanfare and confetti. The last thing he’d want returning to Autumn Ridge would be attention from a town whose response when his name came up was something along the lines of, “It’s too bad about him.”

“How are things on the farm?” I asked, turning away. “Are you ready for the leaf peepers?”

It was just a few weeks until the busiest time of year for Autumn Ridge. Tourists wanting to see the spectacular New England fall would flood the town, providing a boom to all of the businesses and making parking an utter nightmare.

May blew out a breath. “Ready or not, they’ll be here soon enough.”

“Very true.” I took the last sip of my tea. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Carver. Your tea is my favorite.”

She smiled and took my glass. “That’s only because you haven’t tasted the real stuff, darlin’. Don’t go just yet, though. I’m sendin’ you home with some syrup.”

“Oh, you really don’t need to do that…”

“Oh, but I do. I’ve got the stuff comin’ out my ears. I’ll never be able to sell the half of it, so you’ll be doin’ me a favor. Come on into the kitchen, now.”

The Carver kitchen—the Carver house as a whole—would never be featured in a lifestyle magazine. It was far too cozy and lived in. There was little thought of color or pattern coordination. Too much wood, too much clutter in the way of plants and knickknacks and jars, too many magnets on the same boxy white fridge they’d always had.

The room was warm and inviting, though, like her.

I loved where I lived. I loved the people. But New Englanders had a reputation for being slow to warm up for a reason.

Not May. She’d brought her southern charm along with her when she’d moved to Autumn Ridge.