Make You Feel My Love

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Turning around, Liam saw the approach of his dad’s car. That was a surprise. His dad hadn’t mentioned anything about coming up when they’d talked the previous week.

  “Still got the dog, I see,” Dad said when he got out of the car a short while later.

  “Chipper? Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

  His dad raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know why I said that. I guess I thought you got him for Jacob, and now that Jacob’s gone . . .” He let his words trail off.

  “Come on up to the porch. I’ll get us something cool to drink.”

  “Got any beer?”

  It was one thing when Kurt Knight had asked him a similar question when he visited a week ago. But this request from his dad rubbed Liam the wrong way. Made him even more irritated than when Dad wondered about Chipper still being around. Because his dad should know the answers.

  “I take it that’s a no.”

  Liam looked behind him. “It’s a no.”

  “Water’ll be fine, then.”

  “Be right back.”

  Chipper followed Liam inside. The dog knew there wouldn’t be any affectionate ear scratching if he stayed outside with Richard Chandler.

  Liam grabbed a couple of plastic tumblers from a cupboard, filled them halfway with ice, then added cold water from the refrigerator door. When he was done, he paused a moment to take a breath, hoping to regain the peace he’d felt at church less than an hour before. Lord, help.

  Outside again, he set both glasses on the small table between the chairs, then sat in the empty one. Chipper lay down near his right foot, releasing a sigh that reflected Liam’s feelings.

  “What brought you up here, Dad?”

  “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “No, you haven’t.” He heard bitterness in his voice, and it surprised him. He hadn’t thought he cared that his dad had withdrawn as much from him as from his mom. Liam had called his dad at least a couple of times a month since coming to stay in Chickadee Creek. It never happened the other way around.

  “And while I’m here,” his dad continued, “I wanted to look at some of the property I plan to sell.”

  Business had brought him to Chickadee Creek. Of course. Even on a Sunday, for Richard Chandler everything was about business—making deals, succeeding, getting ahead.

  Strange. Liam hadn’t noticed that about his dad when he and Jacob were growing up. Maybe it hadn’t been as bad back then. Maybe his dad hadn’t been as absent. A hard worker but not a workaholic. However, Liam had definitely noticed the absences throughout Jacob’s illness.

  “I thought you might want to go with me,” his dad said. “Give me your opinion.”

  “You want my opinion?”

  “Said I did, didn’t I?”

  Liam reached for his water glass, hoping to hide the frown furrowing his forehead. He hated this adversarial feeling. He loved his dad. He wanted them to be close again. When he thought of his dad, he wanted to remember the good times, the fishing trips, the holidays and summer vacations at the old cabin. Maybe he was the one who needed to make that happen. “Sure. I’ll go with you.”

  “Good. Good.” His dad stood. “Let’s do it.”

  Liam stood too. “We can take my truck. That way Chipper can ride along in the back.”

  His dad grunted.

  Leading the way down the steps from the deck, Liam called for the dog to follow. A few moments later, he dropped the tailgate, and Chipper soared into the bed of the truck, taking his place up near the cab. For longer or faster trips, the dog rode shotgun or in the back seat. But for local trips, he seemed to love the freedom of the truck bed.

  Liam pulled open the driver-side door. “You ready?”

  “I’m ready.” His dad walked around to the opposite door and got in.

  “Where to first?” Liam started the engine.

  “Chandler Road. Site of the old house.”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  Aunt Rosemary fell asleep in her easy chair not long after she and Chelsea finished eating lunch. Chelsea read for a while, then decided to take a walk.

  All of Chickadee Creek seemed to be following the example of her great-aunt. No one else was about on this Sunday afternoon. Unlike in the cities, the few businesses in this small town still closed on Sundays, with the exception of the cafe. No cars came down the road. No people sat on decks or porches along this stretch of road. The only sounds she heard were the gurgling creek and birds flittering between trees.

  Chelsea didn’t walk fast. Instead, she allowed herself to enjoy the play of light and shadow as they fell across the road before her and to breathe in the fresh, pine-scented air. A few Bible verses replayed in her thoughts. Meditation, she’d recently learned, meant devouring the Word. It meant taking in the Scriptures and letting them become a part of her. That’s what she hoped would happen with those favorite verses whispering in her memory, that they would become a part of the fabric of her inner being.

  “‘The name of the Lord is a strong tower,’” she said aloud. “‘The righteous runs into it and is safe.’”

  Proverbs 18:10 was a verse Aunt Rosemary had given her to memorize after she learned of Chelsea’s panic attacks. Saying it now, remembering it word for word, made her smile. She felt stronger and more centered with the verse as a weapon against fear.

  At the place where the two main roads crossed, Chelsea turned off of Alexander and headed north on Chandler. On the bridge, she stopped to stare down at the crystal-clear stream as it flowed beneath her. The summer when she was eight, she’d thrown painted sticks into the stream, then rushed to the other side of the bridge to see which one would appear first. Would it be the red one or the blue one or the yellow one? It made her wish she had some colored sticks with her now.

  “Maybe another time.” She continued on.

  But only a few steps later, she noticed Liam’s truck on the site of the old Chandler mansion. An instant later she saw Liam himself. He stood with another man near the steps and foundation, all that remained of the large house. When Liam saw her, he raised an arm to wave, then motioned her forward.

  “Hey, Chelsea,” he said as she drew closer. “Didn’t get a chance to talk to you at church this morning.”

  “I know. Aunt Rosemary had something in the oven for our lunch and didn’t want to linger.”

  “She seems to be feeling better than last week. Her limp is less noticeable.”

  “Yes. I think so too. But she still gets worn out rather quickly.”

  He took a step toward her. “She and I had a great talk yesterday. I was sorry you didn’t get back before I had to leave.” He turned halfway and looked toward the man behind him. “I’d like you to meet my dad, Richard Chandler. Dad, this is Chelsea Spencer.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” she responded with a smile in Richard’s direction.

  He nodded but didn’t return the smile.

  The family resemblance between the two men was strong. Richard Chandler could have been a movie star himself, she thought, although not in the same kind of roles. Even from where she stood, she could tell he wasn’t as physically fit as Liam. No adventure films with dangerous stunts for him. And something about him told her it wasn’t as easy to discover a smile on his face as it was on Liam’s.

  “Dad’s thinking about selling this property,” Liam said into the lengthening silence.

  “Oh, really? How sad.”

  Richard frowned. “Why sad?”

  “Well,” she answered quickly, “it’s belonged to your family for about a hundred and fifty years. This house was the center of everything in the area for decades. That’s a lot of history.”

  “It’s just land.” Richard turned away and walked toward the foundation.

  Chelsea caught an angry expression as it flashed across Liam’s face. But it was gone so quickly she wondered if she’d seen it at all.

  Liam motioned with his head. “Have a look with us?”

  “I don’t want to
intrude.”

  He lowered his voice. “You’d be doing me a favor. Dad’s in a mood. Don’t know why.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  He waited for her to step forward, then turned, and they walked side by side.

  As a child visiting her great-aunt, she hadn’t explored the old foundation or the rest of the grounds that surrounded it. Her father had taught her never to trespass on someone else’s property. But since her arrival in Chickadee Creek this summer, she’d seen many photos of the Chandler mansion in its former glory, making her more curious. Seeing the size of the crumbling foundation up close, it was easy to understand how grand the house had been. It must have dwarfed every other building in the town for the hundred years it stood in this spot.

  “Cora Chandler had an amazing rose garden in the back.” Liam pointed. “Your Aunt Rosemary showed me an article about it in one of her books about the area. There was a pond and fountain right back there. Come on. I’ll show you what’s left of it.”

  Chelsea glanced in the direction of Liam’s father. He’d kept his back toward them and seemed to be staring off toward the north. But she sensed his irritation and was certain he wanted her gone.

  “You know what.” She faced Liam. “I’d better get home to Aunt Rosemary. But maybe you could show it to me another time.”

  He smiled. “I’d like that.”

  A warning bell chimed inside her. She’d allowed herself to relax in Liam’s company, little by little. She’d allowed herself to like him, despite everything she’d experienced in the past. So much so that she was the one asking to spend time with him. Would she come to regret this budding friendship?

  Maybe she regretted it already.

  Liam's Journal

  I did something crazy. I’m going to buy the land where the Chandler house and gardens stood. About seven acres in all. I don’t even understand why I made the agreement with Dad. Not only am I buying the land, I agreed to pay him his full asking price. I think I could have talked him down, but I didn’t even try.

  Things were strained between us from the moment he arrived in Chickadee Creek. I didn’t know he was coming. He just showed up. I thought maybe he came to talk. I thought maybe I could ask him what was happening between him and Mom, what went wrong in their marriage, how things could get better. I thought maybe we could talk about Jacob. I miss my brother, and when nobody talks about him, it feels like I lose a little more of him each day.

  But Dad never let the conversation veer in either of those directions. For the most part, there was just tense silence between us.

  We ran into Chelsea Spencer while we were looking over the grounds. I introduced her to Dad, but he wasn’t friendly. I don’t know why that was. I told her Dad was going to sell the land, and she said it was a sad thing to do. Dad didn’t agree and wondered why she called it sad. She told him it was sad because it belonged to the Chandlers for a hundred and fifty years. Dad answered that it was just land.

  That was the moment I decided to buy it. It made me mad. Mad that Dad cares so little about his own family. Family from the past. The family he’s got left. Which isn’t much now. It made me want to know more about the Chandler history. For real this time. I told Chelsea I was curious, but it was only sort of true. But if it could help make sense of my dad, why he is the way he is, it’d be worth it.

  God, how do I honor my father and at the same time try to do what’s right? You’re going to have to show me the way.

  Chapter 12

  When Liam made up his mind to do something, he wasn’t one for delay.

  On Tuesday, he drove down to Boise to take care of the initial paperwork necessary for buying the Chandler mansion property. He and his dad met at the office of the real estate agent handling the sale. When they finished, they parted ways. His dad was in a hurry to get back to his office, and Liam wasn’t inclined to delay him.

  He watched his dad’s car until it disappeared at the next intersection. Then he got into his truck, thinking he meant to make his way out of the city and back to the mountains. Instead, he found himself driving to the cemetery. He hadn’t been to Jacob’s grave site since the funeral. It had been winter then, with snow covering the ground and a frigid wind swirling around the mourners. Today was hot, the sky cloudless, with no breeze stirring the air.

  On the opposite end of the cemetery, a groundskeeper mowed the grass, the sound muted by the distance between them. Liam looked around, uncertain about the location of his brother’s grave. Things looked different now with the trees and bushes in full leaf. He set off in the general direction, wondering if he would fail to find it, but then his gaze fell upon the headstone bearing Jacob’s name and the dates of his birth and death. His breath caught for an instant, and he felt the grip of grief tighten around his heart.

  Bro, I sure do miss you.

  He stood still, as if waiting for a reply from Jacob. He knew he wouldn’t get one, but he waited all the same.

  Finally, he said, “I’m buying the old Chandler property from Dad. The acres where the big house was. Before our time, but I’ve been reading up on it and other stuff about our family. Wish I could talk to you about it.”

  It still surprised Liam, his newfound interest in his family’s history. Perhaps his mom’s family would be of interest as well, but it was his dad’s side that intrigued him. In fact, he wondered why he hadn’t been interested long before meeting Chelsea and learning about Cora Chandler and her violin or about the pearls his grandfather gave his grandmother on their wedding day. Strange how all of that knowledge gave him a sense of belonging, something he hadn’t felt for a long time.

  “But you understood how I felt. Didn’t you, Jacob? You looked at me and knew that I felt . . . different . . . like an outsider. Even when I didn’t realize I felt that way.”

  Perhaps that’s what drove me into the acting profession. Perhaps it was the need to be noticed by someone. Anyone.

  He released a mirthless laugh.

  If that was the case, if he’d felt so different and like an outsider, where did the idea of his happy childhood and perfect family come from?

  “It came from you, didn’t it?” He swallowed the lump of emotion that threatened to choke him. “You made me believe in the ideal, even when underneath I sensed the truth.”

  With a sigh, he turned away from the grave site and walked to his truck. Once again he meant to drive back to Chickadee Creek, and once again he turned in another direction, this time toward his mom’s home. He didn’t know if she would be there. He hadn’t called or texted to let her know he would be in Boise. He went anyway.

  Seeing an unfamiliar car in his mom’s driveway, he felt relief. A visitor meant he wouldn’t be expected to stay long. The sense of relief was followed by a familiar sting of guilt. He shouldn’t want to escape her company as quickly as possible. Wasn’t that behaving like his dad? A behavior he resented. Not how he wanted to be.

  As he’d done countless times before, he strode up the front walk while using a phone app to unlock the electronic keypad before he got there. As he rapped twice, he opened the door.

  “Mom, it’s me,” he called as his gaze shifted toward the living room.

  He wasn’t quite sure what happened between his quick knock and the moment he saw the man rise from the sofa. He registered the flustered look on his mom’s face, followed by a rush of color into her cheeks.

  “This is unexpected,” she said as she stood, her hands smoothing the fabric of her tan capris.

  He realized then what he must have interrupted, and it sent a shock wave through him.

  “Liam, I believe you met David Harris at Jacob’s funeral.”

  His gaze turned to the man, instant dislike making his blood run cold, then hot.

  “Hello, Liam.” David’s voice sounded low, almost apologetic in tone.

  “Mr. Harris.” Liam turned his gaze on his mom again. “I was in Boise to sign some papers. I’m buying the Chandler property.”

  Hi
s mom’s brows rose in question.

  “Where the mansion stood in Chickadee Creek. I’m buying it from Dad.”

  “Good heavens. Whyever would you do that?”

  “He’s selling off quite a bit of land up there. I assume he’s in need of more cash. I decided I wanted to keep some of the property for myself.”

  “Susan,” David said in a near whisper, “I think I should go.”

  Liam couldn’t have agreed more.

  “No,” his mom answered quickly. “That isn’t necessary.”

  David Harris gave her a firm look. “I think it is.” He took one step back. “It was good to see you again, Liam.” He left the house, seeming to take the oxygen with him.

  “You were rude.” His mom sank onto the sofa again.

  “Who is he?”

  “A friend of mine.”

  Liam narrowed his eyes at her. “What kind of friend?”

  “Now you’re insulting me.”

  “Am I?” He sat on the nearest chair. “I’m not an idiot, Mom. I’ve got eyes in my head and can see what’s in front of me.”

  She shook her head slowly. “David and I have known each other for over thirty years.”

  “So why haven’t I seen him before?”

  “Because he moved away from Boise when . . . when you were a baby. He only moved back to Idaho a few years ago.”

  Liam suspected she was telling the truth but not the whole truth. He pressed harder. “Is he a friend of Dad’s too?”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “No,” she answered at last, her gaze unflinching. “He isn’t.”

  Her words were like a punch in his midsection, and they propelled him to his feet. “He’s the reason Dad moved out.”

  She stared at him, her expression a mixture of anger and guilt.

  An affair. His mom was having an affair. No wonder his dad had moved out. No wonder his dad had said Liam needed to ask his mom what was going on.

  He drew in a slow, deep breath and released it. “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “You know what. How long have you been having an affair?”