Their Mountain Reunion (The Second Chance Club Book 1)

by Patricia Johns

  Tilly pulled her arm free. “I don’t need you to come get me. I’m fine, Melanie. Jeez. You aren’t my mother!”

  “Maybe you need one!” Melanie shot back. “Maybe you need someone who actually cares, because Simon doesn’t!”

  “Enjoy the lake house,” Tilly said, turning her back.

  Simon pulled her big suitcase, and struggled with the bag that kept falling off the top of it. He muttered to himself as he fought with them out the door, Tilly on his heels.

  “And she has a father, Simon!” Melanie called after them. “You’ll have to face her dad, personally!”

  Simon’s expression turned a little less certain, but it didn’t slow him down. She went to the doorway, watching them haul the luggage down the stairs. He opened the trunk and manhandled the luggage inside, then slammed it shut. Tilly tossed her bag into the back seat of Simon’s car, then got into the front. Apparently, she was leaving her own car parked right here.

  Tilly didn’t wave, but she did meet Melanie’s gaze just once before Simon backed his car up.

  Tilly...the girl who’d needed a mother so desperately, and who’d rejected Melanie’s attempts to be that mom. Well, she was starting down the path to motherhood herself, and right now all Melanie could think was that if Simon hurt her, Melanie would hurt him back.

  Legally, maybe. Or physically. Whichever seemed most effective.

  She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face, and shut the door. Then she pulled out her phone and typed out a text to Adam.

  Tilly just left with Simon. I tried to get her to stay. I’m sorry.

  Had Melanie messed this up?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LOGAN HAD A shower and went down to breakfast. His mind was still on Melanie—had he made a mistake in kissing her? It had been an honest kiss, if nothing else. No, he wasn’t looking for a relationship, and he had no intention of inflicting himself on another woman, especially one who was so vulnerable right now. But he’d meant that kiss.

  And that might make him a jerk.

  He’d loved Caroline with everything he had, and he’d still been a jerk in their marriage. He wasn’t going to do that again—hand his battered heart over to a woman and expect her to fix it, because a real man didn’t play with these things. He had more issues than he’d ever realized, but keeping those lines clear was difficult when it came to Melanie. He had feelings welling up for her, and he wasn’t sure how to stop them.

  Junior walked past the dining room doorway just as Logan dropped a few bills onto the table to pay for his breakfast. He got up and intercepted his brother in the foyer.

  Junior looked older since he’d last seen him—his face paler and more haggard. The gray in his blond hair seemed more pronounced this morning, and he looked more like Harry. In his hands was the wooden box that Elise had left to Harry.

  “Hi, Logan,” Junior said, coming over in his direction. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay,” Logan said. “How about you?”

  “I’ve been better.” Junior nodded a couple of times, then held out the box. “I thought you might want this back.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Logan accepted it, the box cool to his touch. He was glad to get it back.

  “Oh, and this.” Junior fished in his pocket and pulled out the sealed envelope containing the key. So his father had never opened it... That thought was a bitter one. Had he resented Elise so much that he couldn’t look into the box she’d left him upon her death? But then, his mother had avoided Harry just as bitterly, and this was his family legacy—pain, resentment and emotional walls. Junior’s current profession was ironic, considering their family.

  Maybe there was some wisdom in not opening it. At least Harry knew where he stood with Elise. Would Logan have been better off if he’d left his wife’s diaries shut? Sometimes ignorance to someone’s true feelings was preferable.

  “Why don’t we go talk in the sitting room,” Logan said.

  The space was awash in morning sunlight, the fireplace empty, some chairs pulled up to the full-length windows that overlooked the lake. They headed toward an empty cluster of chairs. Logan put the box down at his feet as he sat. He looked at it for a moment, then up at his brother.

  “How are your kids taking Harry’s passing?” Logan asked.

  “Taylor, my son, is probably taking it the hardest,” Junior said. “He’s eleven this year, and he and my dad were pretty close.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Before he went to the old folks’ home, he and Taylor did a lot together. They just...bonded, I guess. And when he had the strokes and needed more care, I took my family to see Dad every week,” Junior said. “Taylor would ask me to bring him to see Papa midweek. Taylor just missed him. And Dad missed Taylor. They liked to watch these kid shows together—you know, the middle school shows that drove me nuts but my dad would put up with just to hang out with Taylor more. I think Dad actually liked them, truth be told.”

  “Papa...”

  “What the kids called him.”

  Graham hadn’t called Harry anything—he hadn’t known him. But Harry had been capable of bonding with Taylor, it seemed. Logan felt a wave of jealousy at that. Graham was a good kid, and he’d deserved that. But then, so had Logan—eleven-year-old Taylor had had a better relationship with Harry than Logan had ever experienced with his dad.

  “Was he like that with you, too?” Logan asked.

  “Like what?” Junior leaned back in the chair, his gaze fixed on the water.

  “Loving, open, available,” Logan said.

  “Yeah, of course. He was a great father—” Junior stopped. “If you’d given him a chance—”

  “I tried!” Logan closed his eyes and then lowered his voice. “I tried. Constantly.”

  “From what I heard, you asked for money,” Junior said.

  “Once.” Logan heaved a sigh. “Only once. For school. But so what?” He turned to his brother. “I was his son. What if I’d wanted a few of the things that you enjoyed?”

  Junior was silent, and Logan leaned back, too, his gaze skimming across the blue water toward the other side of the lake where a few houses were scattered along the edge. He knew which one was Melanie’s, and he could see the wharf sticking out into the water.

  “I think he wanted to be a better father,” Junior said after a few beats of silence. “I’m not saying he did right by you, Logan.”

  That was a first. Logan looked over at his brother in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”

  “I’m a dad, too,” Junior said. “And a therapist. I know what our kids need from us, what you needed from him. I don’t know why you were always held off like that—”

  “Your mom’s jealousy?” If they were going to get honest, they might as well get it all on the table.

  “Maybe,” Junior said.

  “You didn’t like me much, either,” Logan added.

  “I was a kid,” Junior said, shaking his head. “I was jealous.”

  “Of what?” Logan asked.

  “You were everything I wasn’t yet. You were older, you were better looking, you had this confidence about you... I was scared that you’d take something away from our family, from my parents’ marriage. I thought that by not liking you, I was being loyal to our nuclear family.” He shrugged weakly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too,” Logan said. “You know, our father messed up a lot of stuff, Junior. I tried so hard to connect with him. Do you know what he gave me for my birthday every year?”

  “No.” Junior glanced over.

  “Twenty bucks.”

  Junior pressed his lips together. “I got a Nintendo system one year. A bike another year.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Logan had known about the vast discrepancy between their gifts, the attention they received, their father’s love.

  “Why di
d you stop trying?” Junior asked. “When you were an adult, I mean. It might have been different, then.”

  “Because I called him when Graham was born, and he came down on me because Caroline and I weren’t married yet,” Logan replied. “And I just...saw red. I mean, he saw my son as some sort of failure on my part. My son! And he hadn’t married my mom, so I saw the connection. I was his failure, too. I was the kid born outside of wedlock. So I married Caroline, and I never contacted him again.”

  “That’s awful,” Junior said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t you.”

  “Yeah, well, someone should be sorry, anyway,” Junior replied. “And I am.”

  “Is that a therapy trick?” Logan asked.

  “Not a trick, but yes, it’s something used in therapy,” Junior replied. “It helps people to feel heard.”

  “Well, cut it out,” Logan said.

  Junior’s face colored, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. From his position, Logan could see that Junior had missed a small patch when shaving that morning, and the whiskers shone golden.

  “Do you have any good memories of our dad?” Junior asked, looking up.

  Logan had been ready for a fight just now—proof that he’d been treated unfairly, pushed aside, neglected by their shared father—and he felt the adrenaline drain out of him. Our dad...

  “He gave me a pair of boxing gloves one year for Christmas,” Logan said, a lump rising in his throat. “Mom said no, but Dad gave them to me, anyway.”

  “Yeah?” Junior smiled at that. “He never would let me have boxing gloves. He said I wouldn’t like being punched, and you couldn’t throw a punch without getting it back.”

  Logan shrugged. “I guess he wasn’t so worried about that with me.”

  “I asked Dad about you quite a few times when I was growing up,” Junior said quietly. “And Dad said that you were strong and smart, and that he wasn’t worried about you. He also said you had a really good mom raising you...”

  “He said that?” Logan rolled the words around in his mind. An excuse for his paltry offerings when it came to being a dad, or a sincere compliment to Elise. Maybe both.

  “I knew better than to ask when my mom was there,” Junior added.

  “Were they happy?” Logan asked.

  Junior was silent for a while. “If you’d asked me this a week ago, I would have told you a different story. I’d have insisted that they were devoted and loving, truly meant for each other.”

  “Not true?” Logan asked.

  “Whether they were meant for each other or not, I have no idea.” Junior sighed. “Maybe that was why I kept trying to protect the family—their marriage wasn’t that strong. Mom was jealous. And Dad had a couple of affairs over the years, and that changed them...changed her.”

  “Oh...” Logan swallowed.

  “Yeah.” Junior met his gaze for a moment, then looked away. “He wasn’t the perfect family man, Logan. But I loved him, anyway.”

  Tears welled in Junior’s eyes, and Logan reached out and awkwardly patted his brother’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, and they both sat there with the morning sun warming them through the windows.

  “I married Caroline because of Dad,” Logan said at last.

  “That’s a good thing, then,” Junior replied, his voice thick with emotion.

  “I don’t know if it was,” Logan replied. “But because Dad came down on me for having a child out of wedlock, I bought Caroline a ring and we got married a few months later. After she’d recovered from the delivery. It was my silent jab at dad. I’d married her. He couldn’t hold that against us.”

  “You weren’t happy?” Junior asked.

  “Are you asking as my brother, or as a shrink?” Logan asked.

  “As your brother.”

  Logan sighed. “I was happy. I was really happy. I loved her, and I loved my son, and I liked being married. I liked the solidity of it. It felt safe and secure—everything I’d lacked growing up. And my mom loved Caroline, too.”

  “What was the problem?” Junior asked.

  “Caroline wasn’t quite so happy,” Logan replied.

  “What made you feel that way?”

  There was something in Junior’s tone that had shifted, and Logan slowly shook his head.

  “Nope, that was the shrink asking,” Logan said.

  Junior smiled wryly. “Maybe. Sorry. It’s hard to shake. My wife hates it when I sound like a shrink with her, too.”

  “I’ll bet...”

  Junior sighed. “It’s not easy being the husband, the provider, the dad, the font of half the wisdom in the house... It’s a lot of pressure.”

  That was something Logan could finally agree with. “Yeah, it is.”

  “At the funeral, I was wondering if you wanted to say something,” Junior said quietly.

  “When is it?” Logan asked.

  “We’ve settled on Saturday. Noon. At the big Anglican church downtown.”

  “Is that why you came today? To ask me to speak at the funeral?” Logan asked.

  Junior shook his head. “No. But I’m asking now. I think you deserve to be a part of it. He was your father, too.”

  “You trust me to say something nice?” Logan asked.

  Junior eyed him for a moment, then laughed bitterly. “I do. You’re a father, too. And my kids are going to be there, and whatever he was to us, however he messed up, he was their grandfather, and they adored him. I trust you not to break my kids’ hearts.”

  “I was being facetious,” Logan said.

  “I figured. Is Graham coming to the funeral?”

  “He’s in Europe still,” Logan said. “So no. And he didn’t know Dad.”

  “I’d like to meet your son one day,” Junior said quietly.

  “He might like that,” Logan said. “But he’s an adult now. It’s up to him.”

  They’d waited a little long for this reconciliation, and the kids had all gone about growing up and bonding with the people who would matter to them. Graham had lost his grandmother, and he’d been broken up at her death, the same way Taylor was over Harry’s. There was going to be no making up for lost time with this next generation. They’d be too busy looking forward, as young people did. This particular tangle of mistakes and emotion was his generation’s to bear.

  “Your brother and sister might not like me talking at the funeral,” Logan said.

  “Leave them to me,” Junior said. “And they’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  What could Logan say about the father he’d spent a lifetime striving to either connect with or forget?

  Harry had never been father enough, and they would never reconcile now. At least Logan had been able to see him one last time. Funny how every other relationship could mean so much, but still not touch that space.

  “What was it like growing up with a dad who loved you like that?” Logan asked at last.

  Junior’s gaze turned thoughtful, then he shrugged. “It was...a good way to grow up.”

  Logan nodded. “My son has that. I always made sure he knew how proud I was of him and how much I loved him. I hope he appreciates it.”

  “My kids have it, too,” Junior replied. “And for what it’s worth, your son won’t appreciate it. Kids never appreciate what they have. It’s perfectly healthy and normal for them to take it all for granted. It’s the natural reaction of an untraumatized child.”

  “Professionally speaking?” Logan asked.

  “Yeah.” Junior met his gaze and shrugged. “Personally speaking, too. My kids take everything I provide for granted.”

  Logan’s phone blipped, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see a text. It was from Melanie. Tilly took off with Simon.

  He knew that she was feeling a whole lot more than her words conveyed. So Ti
lly had done it—gone back to the loser boyfriend. Logan couldn’t help but be disappointed. He liked Tilly’s spunk, and it was wasted on some kid who wouldn’t treat her right. And at the moment, Logan couldn’t help but blame Adam. He was the one who’d laid the foundation for his daughter to accept that kind of treatment. He’d treated Melanie badly for all those years. And Tilly was the one to pay for it.

  Junior took his phone out at the same time and looked at his.

  “I’d better get going,” Junior said. “I told Taylor we’d go through some old pictures of Dad together.”

  “Yeah, you bet,” Logan said. “Graham and I did something similar when my mom died. It seemed to help.”

  He met his brother’s gaze, and for the first time in his life, he no longer saw a rival. They were both trying their best to be good fathers, in spite of it all. Just two men trying to do better by their own kids.

  “Well, I’ll see you at the funeral, then,” Junior said. “And you have my number.”

  “Yeah.” Logan stood up and so did Junior. Logan put out a hand to shake and Junior leaned in at the same time. They both laughed awkwardly, then Logan leaned in and they patted each other’s backs in a brief hug.

  As his brother left, Logan picked up his phone again and typed a reply to Melanie.

  I could come over, if you want.

  Her reply was almost instant. Please.

  Logan couldn’t fix any of this—not his relationship with his late father, not his history with his brother and not Melanie’s issues with her rebellious stepdaughter. But he could be there for her.

  Just being there with someone was a greater privilege than he’d appreciated in times past. Being asked to just be with someone in his or her tough times—it meant something.

  And even though he’d only seen Melanie that morning, he missed her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  LOGAN HAD A lot to think about as he drove down the familiar roads that led to the lakeshore. The wooden box was on the passenger seat next to him. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought it with him, but he didn’t want to open it alone. Sometimes hard emotions could be softened in the company of someone a man trusted.