Aidan scanned the contents. Papers, trophies, tin boxes with Star Wars images on the top. Fat files, filled notebooks, and three baseballs Charlie had signed himself.
“Home-run balls,” Aidan said, reaching for one. “This was from the championship tournament against Holly Hills our junior year. Number nine hit a killer over the center-field wall.”
She smiled, but it faltered. “I should have been there.”
“Why weren’t you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Too busy wallowing in my own sadness.”
Well, from the looks of this drawer, they might be wallowing in more of that today. Aidan thumbed the seams of the ball. It felt as familiar to him as the scent in this room and the handwriting on the front of a blue spiral notebook with World History in one corner and a lousy interpretation of the Call of Duty logo in the other.
Man, they’d played hours of that game. Then did it in real life.
There was the punch of pain he was expecting, low and right in the solar plexus.
“You okay?” Beck looked up at him, her eyes clear.
“I’m good.”
“Then let’s divide and conquer. We’re looking for a recipe, not a trip down memory lane.”
“A recipe.” He snorted. “Not what I’d ever expect to be hunting for in Charlie Spencer’s high school memory drawer.”
“You look in his memory drawer,” he said, going to the bed. “I know where the good stuff was.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “If you mean those well-worn copies of Maxim and that joint he had since you guys went to that Good Charlotte concert in Raleigh, they’re gone. I found them on my one visit to this room and got rid of them.”
He laughed softly. “We wanted to smoke it but chickened out at the last minute. Fear of not getting into ROTC.” The stash in the mattress gone, he sat next to Beck to help her look in the drawers, bracing for more emotional explosives as he perused the Star Wars box and fluttered a few notebooks. After about twenty minutes, they’d finished going through the drawer and come up with nothing.
Below it was another much like it, only this one had less school and sports stuff and things that were more personal. A few yearbooks, a handwritten notebook that contained something that might have been poetry, but no recipe. While he flipped through those pages, he smiled at the mention of a girl named Dana DeWitt. God, she was hot, and they’d fought over who had a chance with her.
Neither one, if he recalled correctly.
He and Beck dug through that drawer, came up with nothing, then moved to the bins, picking through the remnants of Charlie’s life. Each fragment kicked Aidan’s gut, mining fresh grief, but no recipe. As he looked up to meet Beck’s gaze and confirm the exercise was doing the same thing to her, they heard a low growl outside the door.
“Someone doesn’t like that we’re in here and he’s not,” Aidan said.
“Can we let him in?” Beck asked. “He’s not barking and acting wild.”
Aidan pushed up to get the door for Ruff. “Sure. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take, though.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. This is tough.”
When Aidan let him in, Ruff gave one short bark of gratitude and marched inside, sniffing noisily before he was all the way in.
“Brace yourself, buddy,” Aidan said, giving his head a rub. “Nothing but heartache in here.”
Beck looked up, her eyes misty. “I know. This is a fool’s errand, and this fool is about to burst into tears.”
Instantly, he reached down and brought her up to hug her. “We don’t need to do this, Beck. Let’s keep working on the pizzas. We’ll find it on our own secret.”
She laid her head on his chest and sighed. “I feel like I’ve lost him all over again.” Her voice cracked, and so did Aidan’s heart.
“I know.” He pulled her closer, adding a kiss to her hair. “And I don’t know why we’re putting ourselves through this to make this happen.”
She inched back, eyes wide. “What? You don’t know why? To save Slice of Heaven, remember?”
Why not state the obvious? Maybe because it wasn’t obvious to her, only to him. “The sooner we succeed, Beck, the sooner you leave.”
“Aidan.” She sank in his arms. “What happened to casual?”
“I hate that word. It’s the antithesis of everything I am.” He lowered his face and kissed her lips lightly. “Let’s go back to your apartment and use this afternoon for good instead of sadness.”
“Don’t complicate this,” she whispered.
“Too late. Complicated.” He kissed her again, but she drew farther away, and he could practically count the bricks as she built her wall. And he didn’t want to have to start all over tearing them down. He’d take what he could, casual or otherwise. “But, you’re right, we can just—”
A loud, frantic bark interrupted him. Ruff was bent over, his nose shoved under the space at the bottom of the dresser, sniffing noisily, barking madly, then growling at whatever was down there.
“Probably a twenty-year-old bag of M&M’s, if I know Charlie,” Beck said, pulling away to get down next to him and look.
Aidan snorted. “More like a dirty sock.”
“We’re both wrong,” she said, her face as deep in the crevice as Ruff’s, but with a much better backside in the air. “It’s a baseball mitt. But I can’t get my hand in there.”
“Really?” He joined them on the ground. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s his glove. And even I can smell Charlie on it. No wonder Ruff’s going crazy.”
“Let’s get it for him,” Beck said. “He’ll sleep with it. It’ll make him happy to smell Charlie on that.”
Still on the ground, he turned to her. “I’d have never thought of that,” he said.
“That’s why Charlie left his dog to me,” she teased. But the reminder gave Aidan a kick in the stomach.
He’d never told her about that DD93. Did it matter anymore?
“Can you lift the dresser?” Beck asked from the floor. “I can get it out then.”
He did, easily, and Beck slid out a tan mitt he instantly recognized. Before he could get down there to look at it, Ruff had his face deep in the pocket, his tail thwomping back and forth with pure joy.
Aidan got on his knees to take the mitt, but Ruff growled protectively, getting his teeth around the webbing and turning to make a getaway from anyone who threatened to take his treasure.
Watching him go, Aidan slipped his arm around Beck. “He’s happy,” he said. “And that’s all Charlie ever wanted, right?”
“Yeah.”
That eased his guilt…a little.
Chapter Twenty-one
Aidan knew when he pulled into the driveway of Waterford Farm that something was amiss. No, he didn’t expect the drive to be full of cars or the pen to be full of dogs. It was after eight, and the last of the early June day was fading over the mountains in the distance.
But he couldn’t ever remember seeing the place so deserted. He should have texted Dad and told him he was coming over after they finished dinner at Slice. But he was afraid Dad would have turned it into a thing—a late dinner, a couple of drinks, an invitation to crash here.
And the only place Aidan was crashing tonight was at an apartment upstairs from a pizza parlor.
He couldn’t wait to get back to Beck, hopefully with the news that Dad was all over the idea of a Waterford plane to transport rescues. He glanced again at the empty drive, wishing Garrett had hung around, because his support for this project would be massive.
But even the house looked dark, without a light on. Very weird.
Well, if no one was home, he’d get back to Beck sooner and set up something definite tomorrow. Or at Wednesday night dinner, because Liam and Andi were coming with the newborn, or at least stopping by. Maybe he and Beck could get Carly to cover the restaurant and be here instead. He didn’t want to miss…
He gave a dry laugh as he climbed out of the Jeep. Since when were
Wednesday night dinners a priority?
Since Beck.
He walked up to the porch, squinting into the kitchen, which was freakishly dark. Not a light over the stove, not one in the distant family room, either. He lifted his hand to knock, then stopped, realizing how wrong that was.
This was his home, but he didn’t have a key.
Still, he reached for the knob, and it turned easily, wide open.
Again, it felt strange to B&E his own home, but he did anyway, stepping inside and opening his mouth to call out and at least warn a sleeping dog that he was here, when he heard a soft chuckle. Then a low, male voice he instantly recognized as the baritone of his father.
But normally that voice boomed. It owned this house and echoed in every corner.
But nothing echoed tonight. Dad’s voice was soft, as if in prayer, and coming from the formal living room where few Kilcannons stepped if it wasn’t Christmas. Aidan headed toward the wide center hall to the front of the house, moving stealthily on instinct.
He didn’t want to startle him, or freak out Rusty, but something deep inside told him he shouldn’t interrupt whatever private moment this was. He paused outside the living room, standing at the bottom of a large staircase wrapped with a bannister he and Garrett used to slide down when no one was looking.
In the living room, still out of his sightline, he heard Dad laugh softly again. Who the hell was he talking to?
“You’d have laughed at Liam if you’d seen him, though. More nervous than I was when you were having him.”
Aidan blinked at that. You? He was talking to…Mom?
“But I was nervous with every one of ’em,” Dad added. After a long pause, Aidan heard the distinct sound of a glass being placed on a wooden end table. The whole scene became as clear in his mind as if he’d taken the last three steps and stood in the arched opening.
Dad, sitting in his favorite chair next to the fireplace, a whiskey, neat, at his side. Mom used to sit in the other chair sometimes, but now only her face was in the room, one of many portraits and family photos that hung on the wall above the fireplace.
And Dad was having a moment with her.
“No, babe, Liam’s certainly not your unhappiest right now. So you can stop worrying about him. Molly, too. You wouldn’t believe how she glows with love.” Another chuckle. “Good thing you whispered Trace Bancroft’s name to me all those years ago. He could have come and gone from Bitter Bark without me knowing and doing my usual wrangling to get those two together.”
At least he openly admitted his matchmaking meddling, Aidan thought with a smile.
“Garrett and Shane are all settled, too, as you know. I’ll be expecting another trip to that hospital for one of those two in a year or so.” He let out a heavy sigh. “You always wanted this place filled with grands, Annie girl. I’m telling you, I’m doing my best. Listening to all your advice.”
Aidan leaned silently against the wall, closing his burning eyes. How had he dared think any of them—especially Dad—had sailed on without the agony of grief? He just hid it well. He was classy and cool and kept his pain secret. At least, until someone walked in on him.
Without moving, he glanced left and right, wondering if he should clear his throat, make a footstep, or slip out as silently as he’d come in.
“Now, Aidan? There’s a problem, babe.”
Or he could stand here and be analyzed by his father and his mother’s ghost.
“Restless as a newborn terrier, looking for something to sink his teeth into, digging in his own emotional dirt.”
Was that what he was doing?
“Suffering from some sort of PTSD, though he’d never admit it.”
Like hell he—
“But I worked some magic. Got some help from someone I suspect you’ve run into up there, but things look good. So you tell Charlie Spencer thanks for me when you see him. I think this girl’s good for Aidan. He’s ready.”
Aidan swallowed, kind of stunned that he’d forgotten how well his father and, when she was alive, his mother, understood their children. It was uncanny, really. And something he should never take for granted.
“Here’s the thing, though, Annie. He’s got one foot out the door. I can’t think of a way to get him to stay, if she doesn’t. And she doesn’t even live here. I know, I know. They don’t all have to be in Bitter Bark. Big family, all adults, it’s crazy to try and leash them up and keep them in our pen.” Another pause, followed by the whiskey thud. “But I need them all,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s the only way to bear it without you. The only way.”
When his father’s voice cracked, Aidan looked side to side again, planning his escape. He couldn’t intrude on this. It would embarrass his dad.
As he took a step, his foot made the softest scuff on the wood, and he froze, praying Dad hadn’t heard. But instantly the tap-tap-tap of four paws crossed the living room floor, followed by a quick bark.
Damn. Dad might not have heard, but Rusty had.
He backed up, letting his boot hit the floor with a purposeful thud. “Dad? Gramma? Anyone home?”
Rusty vaulted through the doorway, barking noisily.
“Hey, dude. Where’s your master? This place is like a morgue.” Whoa, that was some bad choice of words, he thought as he got down to rub Rusty’s head and press his face into the fur, composing his emotions.
“Aidan.” Dad came right out behind his dog. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Where is everyone?” He stood slowly, almost afraid to look at his father, half expecting tear-stained cheeks and the red eyes of a drunk on a bender. But he couldn’t have been further from the truth.
His father’s face was its usual color, maybe a tad tanned as the days inched closer to summer. His blue eyes were clear, his smile as real and wide as the day Aidan had come home from the Army. And the hug he got in greeting was as warm as always.
“What are you doing in there?” Aidan asked.
“Finishing up some paperwork. I get bored with the office and need a change of scenery occasionally.”
Right. “Where is everyone? Darcy? Gramma?”
“All at Vestal Valley General with Liam and Andi and baby Fiona.”
“Fiona?” He grinned. “Good Irish name.”
“Fiona Harper Kilcannon,” he said proudly.
“Mom’s maiden name for the middle? Love it.”
Dad beamed. “Isn’t it perfect? I was with her all day, and I can tell you she’s got Andi’s spirit, Liam’s heart, and a heaping dose of that Harper beauty.”
“You could tell this by holding a one-day-old newborn who probably didn’t open her eyes?”
Dad laughed. “No, Liam told me, and anyone in earshot, for that matter. I only held a precious baby. But that was enough, and they all wanted to go to the hospital and have the first family gathering to indoctrinate the child.”
“And no one thought to call me?”
“Pretty sure every one of them called you.”
He’d never looked at his phone. He’d been making pizza and stealing kisses and planning to come over here to talk to Dad without even looking to see if anyone in his family needed or wanted him. The only call he’d cared about was Beck’s, and she had been with him.
“You can probably catch the tail end of the festivities if you leave now.”
For a split second, he considered it. That was how much he didn’t want to miss out on this latest family fun. That was how much he…belonged.
“I would, Dad, but I want to talk to you about something.”
His brows lifted. “Of course.”
Aidan nodded toward the living room. “In there?”
He started to frown, making Aidan think maybe he didn’t want to go in there and have to admit there was no “paperwork” unless it was the label on the whiskey bottle. But then Dad gestured him in. “Sure. I could use the company and a break.”
There was a glass on the table, but it was water. And files were spr
ead out over the coffee table. A pang of guilt threatened, but Aidan tamped it down. He had been talking to Mom—that much wasn’t debatable.
Dad took his seat and gestured for Aidan to sit in that opposite chair. Mom’s chair.
“I’ll sit over here,” he said, choosing the end of the sofa near to Dad’s chair.
His father chuckled softly. “Not one kid will sit there,” he noted. “She wouldn’t mind, you know. But what’s on your mind, Son?”
He took a breath and considered a long-winded build-up and rationale, but knew in his gut it was never wise to beat around the bush with Dad. “I want to do something new and different for Waterford Farm.”
His father’s gaze was steady, but even in the evening light, he could see the twinkle in his eyes. “Go ahead.”
“I think we need a plane. A small, private plane that I could use to take rescues to new homes, to pick up dogs from around the country, and maybe even start an animal air transport service for customers. The K-9 training op would grow if we could reach out to law enforcement beyond North Carolina and we could even fly in private trainees. Liam sometimes has to drive for days to deliver a new schutzhund once he’s trained one, and Trace’s service dog business could really expand.”
The twinkle flashed to a full blown spark. “That’s brilliant. It makes us national, not statewide.”
“You’d have to fund the plane, and take money from the profits to pay off the loan.”
“We can do that.” There was zero hesitation in that response.
Aidan nodded, encouraged by the response. “Then I’ll run the operation, fly the plane, and take a salary commensurate with the work.”
Dad leaned back, exhaling. “And you’ll stay here in Bitter Bark?”
“Unless I’m flying.”
With a quick laugh, his father picked up the water glass and held it toward the pictures over the fireplace. “Annie girl, you do work fast.”
Aidan had to smile at that. “With all due respect to Mom’s powers, I had the idea yesterday. Well, to be honest, Beck did.”
“I knew I liked that girl. And I like this idea, Aidan.”
Ruff Around the Edges Page 21
