Chapter 6 - The Debt Roman Could Never Repay
Three weeks later, Roman drove Norah north.
No convoy.
No bodyguards in the car.
Only Gideon following at a distance because Roman apparently considered that “traveling alone.”
They reached Samuel’s cabin before sunset.
Norah unlocked the door.
Nothing had changed.
Samuel's old chair.
His books.
His coffee mug.
Roman stopped in the living room.
Norah watched him.
“You've been here before.”
“Once.”
“When?”
“The night Samuel disappeared.”
Norah turned.
“He brought you here?”
Roman nodded.
“I had been shot.”
Norah looked at the tattoos visible beneath Roman's open collar, then noticed a thin scar crossing his upper chest.
“Samuel treated you?”
“He removed the bullet on that table.”
Norah stared at the dining table.
“My father performed surgery?”
“With whiskey, pliers and an alarming amount of confidence.”
“That sounds like him.”
Roman walked toward the fireplace.
“He told me something that night.”
“What?”
Roman looked at her.
“Power doesn't tell you what kind of man you are.”
He paused.
“It only removes the excuses.”
Norah leaned against the doorway.
“Did you listen?”
“Not enough.”
“You mean the Gilded Lily.”
“Yes.”
“You really thought I should disappear over spilled Scotch?”
Roman looked ashamed.
“I wasn't thinking about you at all.”
Norah hadn't expected that answer.
He continued.
“You were an inconvenience. A stranger. Someone beneath my attention.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand that is precisely the kind of thinking Samuel hated.”
Norah studied him.
“You can't undo everything you've done.”
“I know.”
“But you can decide what you do next.”
Roman nodded.
“That's what Gideon said.”
“Gideon is smarter than he looks.”
From outside came Gideon’s voice.
“I can hear you.”
Norah burst out laughing.
Roman shook his head.
Later, Norah found another photograph behind Samuel's books.
Roman and Samuel stood beside an old pickup truck.
Samuel had one arm around Roman’s shoulders.
On the back were four handwritten words:
The son I couldn't keep.
Norah carried it outside.
Roman was standing beside the lake.
She handed him the photograph.
He read the words.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Norah finally asked, “Did you know?”
“No.”
“He loved you.”
Roman swallowed.
“He saved me.”
“Maybe those were the same thing to him.”
Roman looked toward the cabin.
“I spent twelve years believing I owed Samuel my life.”
Norah stood beside him.
“You did.”
Roman looked at her.
“But I can't repay him.”
“No.”
She smiled faintly.
“That's not how love works.”
Roman stared at her.
Norah nudged his arm.
“You just carry it forward.”
He looked down at where she had touched him.
Then back at her.
Something between them had changed.
Neither named it.
Not yet.
Roman asked, “Are you going back to the Gilded Lily?”
Norah laughed.
“To serve drinks?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“I have a proposal.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It usually is.”
“What proposal?”
Roman smiled.
“You'll hear it Monday.”
“Roman.”
“Monday.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I preferred you when I thought you were terrifying.”
“No, you didn't.”
Norah smiled.
“No.”
She looked back toward Samuel's cabin.
May you like
“I really didn't.”
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