by Nora Roberts
music, the voices through the window. That’s how she felt, just a step apart, behind the glass, sitting in a room of her childhood, wondering what to do with what she’d carried with her. All she had to do was open the window and she’d be a part instead of apart.
But . . .
Right now, today, everyone said welcome home, and left all the rest unsaid. But the questions murmuring under the welcome would come. Part of what she carried with her were answers and still more questions.
How much should she tell, and how should she tell it?
What good would it do to tell anyone that her husband had been a liar, and a cheat—and she feared he might’ve been worse. She feared down deep in her bones he’d been a swindler and a thief. And yet whatever he’d been—even if it turned out to be worse—he was still the father of her child.
Dead, he couldn’t defend or explain any of it.
And sitting here brooding about it wasn’t solving a thing. She was wasting that welcome, that sunstruck day, the rising music. So she’d go down again, she’d have some cake—though she already felt a little queasy. Even as she ordered herself to get up, go down, she heard footsteps coming down the hall.
She got to her feet, put an easy smile on her face.
Forrest, her brother, the only one who hadn’t been there to welcome her, stepped into the doorway.
He didn’t have Clay’s height, skimmed just shy of six feet, and with a more compact build. A brawler’s build, their granny claimed (with some pride), and he’d done his share. He had his daddy’s dark hair, but his eyes, like hers, were bold and blue. They held hers now. Coolly, she thought, and full of the questions no one asked.
Yet.
“Hey.” She tried to boost up her smile. “Mama said you had to work today.” As a deputy—her brother the cop—a job that seemed to suit him like his skin.
“That’s right.”
He had sharp cheekbones, like their father, and his mother’s eyes. And right now he sported a faint purple bruise on his jaw.
“Been fighting?”
He looked blank for a moment, then flicked his fingers over his jaw. “In the line. Arlo Kattery—you’d remember him—got a little . . . rambunctious last night down at Shady’s Bar. They’re looking for you outside. I figured you’d be up here.”
“Back a few steps from where I started.”
He leaned on the jamb, doing his cool study of her face. “Looks like.”
“Damn it, Forrest. Damn it.” No one in the family could twist her up, wring her out and smooth her down again like Forrest. “When are you going to stop being mad at me? It’s been four years. Almost five. You can’t stay mad at me forever.”
“I’m not mad at you. Was, but I’m more into the annoyed stage now.”
“When are you going to stop being annoyed with me?”
“Can’t say.”
“You want me to say I was wrong, that I made a terrible mistake, running off with Richard like I did?”
He seemed to consider it. “That’d be a start.”
“Well, I can’t. I can’t say that because—” She pointed to the picture on the dresser. “That makes Callie a mistake, and she’s not. She’s a gift and a glory, and the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“You ran off with an asshole, Shelby.”
Every muscle in her body went hot and tight. “I didn’t think he was an asshole at the time or I wouldn’t have run off with him. What makes you so righteous, Deputy Pomeroy?”
“Not righteous, just right. It’s an annoyance to me that my sister took off with an asshole, and I’ve barely seen her or the niece who looks just like her in years.”
“I came when I could. I brought Callie when I could. I did the best I knew how. You want me to say Richard was an asshole? There I can oblige you, as it turns out he was. I had the bad judgment to marry an asshole. Is that better?”
“Some.” He kept his gaze level on hers. “Did he ever hit you?”
“No. God, no.” Stunned, she lifted her hands. “He never touched me that way. I swear.”
“You didn’t come back for funerals, for births, for weddings. Clay’s, you made Clay’s, but barely. How’d he keep you away?”
“It’s complicated, Forrest.”
“Simplify it.”
“He said no.” Temper began to simmer and burn inside her. “Is that simple enough?”
He stirred himself to lift his shoulders, let them fall. “You didn’t always take no for an answer so easy.”
“If you think it was easy, you’re wrong.”
“I need to know why you looked so tired, so thin, so beaten when you came home for what seemed like ten minutes at Christmas.”
“Maybe because I’d come to realize I’d married an asshole, and one who didn’t even like me very much.”
Temper hammered against guilt with guilt slapping against fatigue.
“Because I’d come to realize before I found myself a widow and my child without a father that I didn’t love him, not even a little. And didn’t like him much, either.”
Tears clogged her throat, threatening to burst through the dam she’d so laboriously built to hold them back.
“But you didn’t come home?”
“No, I didn’t come home. Maybe I married an asshole because I was an asshole myself. Maybe I couldn’t figure out how to pull myself and Callie out of the muddy mess I’d made. Can you leave it at that for now? Can that be enough for now? If I have to talk about all the rest of it now, I think I’ll break into pieces.”
He walked over, sat beside her. “Maybe I’ll move annoyed down to mildly irked.”
Tears swam and spilled; she couldn’t help it. “Mildly irked’s progress.” She turned, pressed her face to the side of his shoulder. “I missed you so much. Missed you like an arm or a leg or half my heart.”
“I know.” He draped an arm around her. “I missed you the same. It’s why it’s taken close to five years to get down to mildly irked. I got questions.”
“You always have questions.”
“Like why you drove down from Philadelphia in a minivan that’s older than Callie, and with a couple of suitcases and a bunch of packing boxes and what looks like a big-ass flat-screen TV.”
“That’s for Daddy.”
“Huh. Show-off. I got more questions yet, but I’ll wait on them. I’m hungry and I want a beer—I want a couple of beers. And if I don’t get you down there shortly, Mama’s bound to come looking, then she’ll skin my ass for making you cry.”
“I need some time to settle myself before the questions start. I need to breathe for a while.”
“This is a good place for it. Come on, let’s get down there.”
“Okay.” She got up with him. “I’m going to be mildly irked with you for being mildly irked with me.”
“That’s fair.”
“You can work some of that off getting Clay to help you bring in that TV, and then help figure out where it needs to go.”
“It needs to go in my apartment, but I’ll just come over here and watch it, and eat all Daddy’s food.”
“That’s fair, too,” she decided.
“I’m working on fair.” He kept an arm draped around her shoulders. “You know Emma Kate’s back.”
“What? She is? But I thought she was up in Baltimore.”
“She was up until about six months ago. I guess more like seven now. Her daddy had that accident last year, fell off Clyde Barrow’s roof, busted himself up pretty good.”
“I know about that. I thought he was doing okay.”
“Well, she came back to take care of him—you know how her mama is.”
“Helpless as a baby duck with no feet.”
“That’s the truth. She stayed a couple months. He was in and out of the hospital, in physical therapy, and her being a nurse, she could help more than most. The guy she’s hooked up with, he came down off and on. Nice guy. Shortening it up, the time off and budget cuts cost her her job at the
Baltimore hospital—or made it hard for her to keep on. She and her guy, they moved on down as she got an offer to work at the clinic in the Ridge.”
“Daddy.”
“Yeah. He says she’s a damn good nurse. Matt—that’s her guy—he moved on down with her, started a business with his partner. Griff’s out of Baltimore, too. Construction-type business. They’re The Fix-It Guys.”
“I saw a truck with that name on it at Emma Kate’s house.”
“Matt and Griff are doing a new kitchen for Miz Bitsy. What I hear is she changes her mind every five minutes on what she wants, so it’s taking a while. Emma Kate and Matt got the apartment across from mine, and Griff’s got the old Tripplehorn place out on Five Possum Road.”
“That place was falling down when we were ten,” she remembered.
And she’d loved it.
“He’s fixing it up. Likely take him the rest of his life, but he’s got it going.”
“You’re stock full of news, Forrest.”
“That’s only because you haven’t been around to hear it. You should go see Emma Kate.”
“I wish she’d come today.”
“She’s working, and she’s likely still in the annoyed stage where you’re concerned. You might have to work some to bring that down.”
“It’s hard knowing how many people I hurt.”
“Then don’t do it again. If you decide to leave, say goodbye proper.”
She looked out the back door, saw Clay running around with his son on his shoulders, and her grandmother pushing Callie on the swings.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already been gone too long.”
• • •
SHE SLEPT IN HER childhood bed on a new mattress, and though the night was cool, kept the window open a crack so the night air could waft in. She woke to a quiet rain, snuggled right in with a smile on her face as the sound of it pattered so peacefully. She’d get up in just a minute, she told herself, check on Callie, fix her baby some breakfast.
She’d deal with the unpacking, and all the other chores that needed doing. In just five more minutes.
When she woke again, the rain had softened to a misty drizzle, a drip and plop from leaves and gutters. Around it she heard the birds singing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken to the song of birds.
Rolling over, she glanced at the pretty glass clock on the bedside table, then shot up like an arrow from a bow.
She scrambled up, dashed through the bath and into Callie’s room to find the bed empty.
What kind of a mother was she, sleeping till after nine o’clock and not having a clue where her daughter might be? Barefoot, a little panicked, she raced downstairs. A fire burned in the living room hearth. Callie sat on the floor, the old mutt Clancy curled beside her.
Stuffed animals sat in a line while Callie busily poked and prodded at the pink elephant lying trunk up on a kitchen towel.
“He’s very sick, Gamma.”
“Oh, I can see that, baby.” Curled in a chair, sipping coffee, Ada Mae smiled. “He’s looking peaked, no doubt about it. It’s lucky you’re such a good doctor.”
“He’s going to be all better soon. But he has to be brave ’cause he needs a shot.” Gently, she rolled him over, and used one of her fat crayons as a syringe. “Now we kiss it, kiss the hurt. Kisses make hurts feel better.”
“Kisses make everything feel better. Morning, Shelby.”
“I’m so sorry, Mama. I overslept.”
“It’s barely nine on a rainy morning,” Ada Mae began as Callie leaped up, ran to Shelby.
“We’re playing hospital, and all my animals are sick. I’m going to make them better. Come help, Mama.”
“Your mama needs her breakfast.”
“Oh, I’m fine, I’ll just—”
“Breakfast is important, isn’t it, Callie?”
“Uh-huh. Gamma made me breakfast after Granddaddy had to go help the sick person. I had slambled eggs and toast with jelly.”
“Scrambled eggs.” She lifted Callie for a kiss. “And you’re all dressed so nice. What time did she get up?”
“About seven. And don’t start. Why would you deny me a couple hours with my only granddaughter? Have we had fun, Callie Rose?”
“Lots and lots and lots of fun. I gave Clancy a dog cookie. He sat like a good boy, and he shook my hand, too. And Granddaddy gave me a piggyback ride all the way downstairs because I was quiet and didn’t wake you up. He had to go help the sick people. So I’m helping the sick animals.”
“Why don’t you bring your animals in the kitchen while I fix your mama some breakfast? She’s going to eat it all up like you did.”
“I don’t want you to have to feel you need to— Yes’m,” she finished, warned by the narrowed stare.
“You can have a Coke since you never did learn to be civilized and drink coffee. Callie, you can bring all the sick animals and fix them up right over there. You’re going to have eggs with ham and cheese—get some protein in there. I’ve got the whole day. I took off work until middle of the week. I’ve got a connection with the boss.”
“How will Granny run the place without you?”
“Oh, she’ll manage. Get your Coke, sit down there while I get this going. She’s fine, Shelby,” Ada Mae added in an undertone. “She’s busy and she’s happy. And your daddy and I enjoyed her company this morning. Now, I don’t have to ask how you slept. You look better already.”
“I slept ten hours.”
“New mattress.” Ada Mae chopped some ham. “And the rain. Makes you want to sleep all day. Haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”
“Not especially.”
“Or eating much.”
“It’s been hard to work up an appetite.”
“A little pampering might make that easier.” She glanced over at Callie. “I’m going to tell you you’ve done a good job with that girl. Of course, some of it’s just disposition, but she’s well-mannered without being all prim about it—something that just makes my back itch in a child—and she’s happy.”
“She wakes up every day raring to go.”
“She wanted you first thing, but all I had to do was take her to your bedroom door, show her you were there sleeping, and she was fine. That’s a good thing, Shelby. A child who clings usually says more about the mother clinging. And I expect it’s been hard not to cling, on both sides these past months, when it’s just been the two of you.”
“I never saw any kids her age around the neighborhood up North. But then it was so awful cold, and it seemed it was snowing every five minutes. Still, I was going to look for a good preschool, just so she could socialize, but . . . I just didn’t after—you know. I didn’t know if it was the right thing for her after. And you and Daddy came for a while, and Granny came, and that was good. It helped us both having y’all there.”
“I hope it did. We all worried we’d left you alone too soon.” Ada Mae poured whisked eggs in the skillet over the ham chunks, grated cheese into the mix. “I don’t know if I could’ve left if you hadn’t said you’d come home as soon as you could.”
“I don’t know how I’d’ve got through if I hadn’t known I could come home. Mama, that’s enough eggs for two people.”
“You’ll eat what you want, then one bite more.” Over her shoulder she sent Shelby a narrow look. “They’re wrong when they say you can’t be too thin, because you are. We’re going to plump your mama up, Callie, and put roses in her cheeks.”
“Why?”
“’Cause she needs it.” Ada Mae plated the eggs, added a slice of toast, passed it over the counter. “And one bite more.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now.” Ada Mae busied herself tidying the already tidy kitchen. “You’ve got a hot stone massage booked at two o’clock at Mama’s.”
