Hometown Reunion

by Lisa Carter

  This time, she needed to be the one to leave. But until the day she died, she’d never love anyone the way she loved Jaxon Pruitt and his son.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Knowing Brody was safe, Jax drew his first even breath. But what about Darcy? Was she okay?

  With a strange sense of déjà vu, for the second time that day he looked up to find someone he cared about missing. The open ambulance sat empty.

  Cared about? His own lack of honesty smote him. Just as well, though, that Darcy had disappeared. She was probably already en route to Riverside, where Jax and Brody were headed, too. To be poked, prodded and checked for any ill effects from their near fatal encounter with the flash flood.

  He’d see her there, but wished he’d had the opportunity to thank her before she was whisked away. To give voice to the gratitude in his heart for all she’d done to save Brody. Without her help, he and Brody might be floating facedown somewhere out at sea.

  A sober realization. Except for Darcy and God... He hugged his son.

  Brody balked at getting into the ambulance. So they rode in Charlie’s patrol car. The paramedics headed off to help others struggling in the storm’s aftermath. To Brody’s delight, Charlie turned on the siren.

  Jax’s parents were waiting for them outside the bustling emergency entrance. “How did they—?” He glowered at his brother.

  “Don’t blame me.” Charlie shrugged. “You know Dad still monitors emergency channels on the scanner.”

  His mother, the retired nurse, insisted on checking their vitals herself. Like the former law enforcement officer he’d once been, his father rapid-fire interrogated Jax regarding the timeline of events.

  Arms crossed, Charlie leaned against the doorjamb of the examining room. “If there’s trouble to be had, Jax will find it.” He smirked.

  Jax grimaced, reckoning Darcy might not be off base about the leaning thing. It was annoying. As was this unwanted attention.

  He shooed away his mother’s hands. “I’m fine, Ma.”

  Groaning, he climbed off the examining table. But he’d survived far worse than this.

  Brody held on to Jax’s hand while the ER staff made a vain attempt to wash off the grime coating the little boy’s face. At the sight of his bedraggled but alive son, Jax blinked away the moisture welling in his eyes. Losing Brody might have proved to be the one thing he wouldn’t have survived.

  He caught Brody in another hug, inhaling the earthy mixture of mud plus other elements Jax preferred not to contemplate.

  “Dawcy?”

  “Is she down the hall, Ma?”

  She held up two bandages for Brody to choose between. One was lime-green and the other, a neon turquoise. Brody chose green. A heart-wrenching reminder of someone who loved lime-flavored Popsicles. Brody grinned as his grandmother peeled off the adhesive.

  Jax’s mother smiled, her eyes crinkling. “Band-Aids make every hurt feel better, don’t they, Brody?” She ruffled his son’s almost dry hair.

  “Ma?” Jax inhaled. “Darcy. Which room?”

  His mother stripped off her purple gloves. “She’s not here. Despite medical advice, she went home.”

  Jax started for the door, but got a whiff of marsh mud on himself and did an about-face.

  His mother straightened. “How about your dad and I take you two home? We’ll stay with Brody if you need to check on her.” His mom always could read his mind.

  “Maybe consider getting a shower first.” Charlie fanned the air. “You stink.”

  “Give Darcy a chance to sort herself out,” his mother urged. “I wouldn’t want to see anyone until I’d taken a long, hot bath.”

  Darcy with his son in her arms at the Savage farm had been the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld. But his mother was right. Unlike the little tomboy he’d known, the grown-up Darcy didn’t like being caught out less than perfectly groomed. And the Parkses wouldn’t appreciate him tracking in more mud.

  Since his cell phone lay at the bottom of the sea, once his parents drove them home, he used the landline to call Darcy. But she didn’t pick up, so he left a message for her to call him. Leaving Brody to his adoring grandmother, he made short work of his own restoration. But the phone didn’t ring.

  “Why don’t you eat something?” An enticing aroma arose from the pan his father stirred on the stovetop. “Let her spend the evening recouping with her parents.”

  “Me hungwy...” Brody padded into the kitchen wrapped in a towel.

  Jax’s mom trotted after him. “Least we know Brody’s feeling fine.”

  She and his dad laughed, but Jax’s heart tugged at him to go check on Darcy. A disquieting urgency filled him. She hadn’t returned his call.

  But maybe his parents were right. After this morning at the tree house, the Parkses might not exactly lay out the welcome mat for the likes of Jaxon Pruitt.

  Perhaps he should give Darcy, all of them, a chance to regain their equilibrium. After all, what was so urgent that he needed to say it now? Tomorrow was another day. Another paddle. Plenty of time to talk before the upcoming Labor Day festivities.

  And suppose she stood in front of him right now? What would he say? He scrubbed his hand across his face. Probably better to wait until his heightened emotions had a chance to cool down. Before they crossed a threshold he hadn’t yet had time to think through.

  He pulled out a chair. “Let’s eat.”

  But his cut-to-the-chase father beat him to the punch. “What do you plan to do about Darcy?” His dad plunked a plate with a fried bologna sandwich in front of Jax.

  His mother lifted towel-clad Brody into the booster. “Darcy’s leaving in a week, son.”

  “Wanna cut me a little slack, folks?” He raised both hands. “Considering I just survived a near drowning.” He stabbed his fork into a peach slice. “And it’s two weeks before she leaves.”

  At the table, his mother settled into Darcy’s customary seat. “I stand corrected.”

  Jax scowled. Since when did Darcy have a customary seat in his house? Since...since the night he’d moved here, that’s when.

  His mom cut Brody’s sandwich into triangles. “Despite my best efforts, stubborn you’ve got in spades, my dear firstborn son. A good woman needs to make sure you, Brody Pruitt, don’t turn out the same.”

  Brody grinned from ear to ear, a peach slice where his teeth should have been.

  “Stop interfering.” Jax threw his fork onto the plate. “I’ve tried to be clear with Darcy. Let me be as clear with you two. I have no intention of ever marrying again.”

  Gail Pruitt sucked in her cheeks. “When have we ever interfered in the lives of our children?”

  Since the debacle with Anna’s first husband? Since their strained relationship with Jax’s wife? Although to be fair, that was more Adrienne’s doing than theirs.

  It was obvious how much they adored Charlie’s young wife, Evy. And yes, his folks were practically best friends with the reverend and Miss Agnes. But more than that, Darcy’s in-your-face-Jax attitude had tickled his dad since the sandbox days. They loved Darcy.

  “Don’t take that tone with your mother, Jaxon.” His dad didn’t raise his voice. He never did, which, as a lawman and father, made it all the more ominous. “You let that girl get away from you once. Don’t allow it to happen again.”

  Jax pushed back from the table, his chair scraping the linoleum.

  His mother frowned. “You haven’t finished—”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “But—”

  “Let him go, Gail.”

  On the deck, Jax drew deep lungfuls of air, trying to calm his fraught nerves. But images of Darcy filled his mind. That first summer evening when iridescent bubbles floated around her. Darcy giving chase to Brody, her hair flying free and wild behind her. And despite everything, plunging without
hesitation into the woods—and the floodwaters—when his son was lost.

  The door creaked open, and he felt his father’s ponderous tread on the deck.

  “Why won’t you allow yourself to love that girl?” His father joined him at the railing. “A girl who’s loved you her entire life. And if you were honest with yourself—”

  “You’re wrong, Dad.” He moved away. “I don’t love her. I—I can’t love her.”

  “But why, son? Everyone saw this day coming with you two, even if you didn’t.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Me, your mom, Darcy’s parents. Every brother you’ve got. Your sister, Darcy’s best friend.” His father stared over the placid creek. “Your aunt Shirley.”

  “You set us up,” Jax growled. “Taking the business away from Darcy broke her heart.”

  His father angled his head. “Was it us that broke her heart?”

  “No.” He bit down on his lip, hard. “I’m the one who did that.”

  “What we did was give you both the chance to turn the hands of time back a stroke. To explore what might have been. To discover what yet could be.”

  Jax scrubbed his face with his hand. “She worked her whole life to own the shop, and she hated me for taking it from her.”

  “She didn’t hate you.” His father shrugged. “And if nothing had sparked between you, Shirley’s backup plan was to open another shop bayside, and give it to Darcy. No one would’ve been worse for wear. But something did spark between you, didn’t it?”

  More than sparked. A long-burning ember had burst into flame. Something so sweet. After Adrienne’s death, something he’d dared not dream of for himself.

  “Something I don’t deserve.”

  His dad shook his head. “There’s the thing I suspected. Misplaced guilt.”

  “I’m not the man you think I am.” Jax’s voice quavered. “I failed Adrienne. I failed my son. The friends I couldn’t save.” His arm swept the tranquil night. “How do you come back from that?”

  His father laid his hand on Jax’s shoulder. “I’ve never experienced combat. But as a deputy, I witnessed things... I had to do things that were hard. And only one thing ever gave me peace.”

  Jax swallowed. “I can’t remember what peace feels like, Dad.”

  “There’s only one source of peace, son. Jesus said to come to Him when we’re weary. He promises to take the heavy load off our shoulders and place it on His own. And in laying down our burdens, we find true rest in Him.”

  A burden-bearer, Reverend Harold had said.

  Jax hung his head. “How do I lay it down, Dad?”

  “It starts with forgiveness. And forgiveness includes forgiving yourself.” His father exhaled. “Didn’t mean to get preachy. I usually leave that stuff to the reverend.”

  “The reverend is a smart man.”

  His father gave Jax a faint smile. “I’m better with sirens and handcuffs. But you’re not as alone as you feel, son.” The tough ex-lawman’s eyes gleamed. “God is always there, right beside us. As close as a prayer.”

  “I hear you, Dad. I do.”

  “Your mom and I should get home.” His bear of a father grabbed Jax into a hug. “Never forget how much we love you. We’re praying for you, too.”

  Later, standing at the foot of Brody’s small bed, Jax watched the steady rise and fall of his son’s chest as he slept. This day could have ended so differently. So tragically. God was good.

  He remembered what Charlie had told him at the beginning of the summer. Was it true that God caused everything to work out for good for those who loved Him?

  Jax headed downstairs. Outside the window, a yellowish light blinked on and off. Drawn by the display, he moved once again to the deck. Was peace possible for someone like him?

  After being lost for so long, he’d found his way home to Kiptohanock. But he couldn’t fathom how God could make something good out of the mess he’d made of his life thus far.

  Despite the so-called Pruitt charm, he wasn’t good in the romance department. His failure with Adrienne only underscored his inability to sustain a long-term relationship. His friendship with Darcy was the only relationship with a woman he’d ever managed not to destroy.

  Loving Darcy was the easy part. Okay. He was ready to admit it—typical—when it was too late to do anything about it. Perhaps that was his real problem—he deliberately left things too late, self-sabotaging.

  A day late and a dollar short. Though she might not see herself as maternal, Darcy was the perfect mother for Brody. And Jax’s heart kept insisting she’d be the perfect wife for him.

  The problem was he was no good for her. He’d hurt her, just like he’d hurt his wife. He’d fail Darcy—just like he failed Adrienne. That was the part he couldn’t face—hurting Darcy. Other than Brody, she was the best thing in his life. And he’d rather die than hurt her.

  “God, I love her so much...” His voice was a ragged sob. “She deserves so much more than a broken, messed-up excuse of a man like me.”

  She deserved so much more than he could ever give. She deserved somebody like Ethan... Jax’s breath hitched, his stomach cramping. Someone with no baggage. Someone who would love her the way she deserved to be loved.

  Jax clenched his jaw. He needed to love her enough to do the right thing and let her go. Once and for all. As long as he and Brody kept hanging around, she’d never find her perfect guy.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Jax wanted to be her perfect guy. The idea of someone else courting Darcy, right under his nose... Marrying her, starting a family with her...

  Jax’s heart tore in two. Could he stand by and watch that unfold before his eyes? Yet what other option was there?

  There could be no future with Darcy until the issues of the past had been resolved. The guilt he bore over Adrienne weighed him down, a boulder lodged on his shoulders. And he was being crushed. Like finding himself underwater, trapped beneath an overturned kayak. Drowning as surely as he’d almost drowned in the creek earlier.

  His father’s words floated like a whisper on the breeze. Come... Was it that easy? Giving God the guilt, and in exchange, receiving peace?

  Jax gripped the railing, the splintered wood rough against his palms. And was reminded of the yoke of the cross. Not easy, but hard. The cost of Jax’s peace.

  “Help me, God. Forgive me for the wrong I’ve done to You, and Adrienne. Help me to let go of the guilt. I can’t bear it any longer. I never could. Please grant Your peace and rest to me. A peace and rest I’ll never find apart from You.”

  The night was quiet, except for the clicking song of the cicadas. Down in the marsh, the croaking bass of the frogs. But he felt lighter, the sorrow lifting.

  Fireflies flitted from one edge of the forest to the other. Like his guilt, drifting away until lost from sight. The scent of honeysuckle permeated the night air. And for the first time in two years, he felt able to draw a deep, clean breath.

  The best word in the universe—forgiven. No matter what the future held with Darcy, he’d hang on to God’s peace. But he needed to make something else right, too.

  Jax dialed his aunt Shirley in Florida for an overdue conversation. Then he headed to bed. His rest was undisturbed. The best he’d slept in years.

  He awoke to beams of sunlight dancing on the ceiling. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, the peace he’d experienced last night remained. And something more—freedom. A freedom found in forgiveness, enabling Jax to say the next best word in the universe. A word meant only for Darcy.

  Love.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Unable to wait any longer, he roused a sleepy-eyed Brody. Too wired to eat breakfast, Jax made a quick phone call to his parents.

  He was the kind of guy who just needed a plan. And he liked to call this latest plan the Wooing and Winning of Darcy Parks. He coul
dn’t keep from smiling. His plan, if he did say so, was perfect.

  Item one—drop Brody off at his mom’s and walk over to Darcy’s house.

  But when he pulled into the Pruitt driveway, he noticed Darcy’s SUV was missing next door. He frowned at this obvious wrinkle. But maybe she’d gone on a Long John run for her dad. The reverend did love those cinnamon, powder-dusted pastries. She’d probably be home soon.

  He toted Brody to the Pruitt house. On the porch, he set his son on his feet. His mother yanked open the door.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, son.” She waved at Brody. “We’ll have a grand time together.” She arched an eyebrow at Jax. “Take your time. All the time you need.”

  He drew a deep breath. Somehow his mom always knew exactly what was going on with him. She closed the door after Brody trundled inside.

  Jax squared his shoulders. He would beg Darcy’s forgiveness, eat as much crow as she served. Which he deserved. After their phone conversation last night, Shirley had emailed the document. The printed out paper—signing Kiptohanock Kayaking over to Darcy Parks—crinkled in the pocket of his cargo shorts.

  Then the next phase of his plan—to get on his knee. His lips quirked. Maybe in the tree house? And beg her to marry him, changing Darcy Parks to Darcy Pruitt. The plan was simplicity itself. Genius.

  Jax threaded his way through the crepe myrtles, then paused midstep. Her SUV was still gone. But no matter. Per Southern tradition, he ought to talk with her father first, anyway.

  His shoes crunching the shell gravel, Jax strode toward the Parks backyard. The backyard where Shore folks did their living. And proposing. Passing the oak tree, he grinned, his anticipation mounting.

  Jax took the steps to the screened porch in a single bound. The hinges of the door squeaked as he pulled it open. He’d raised his fist to knock when the reverend swung open the storm door.

  Startled, Jax blinked. The reverend didn’t look so good. There were bags under his eyes, and he looked older than Jax remembered seeing him. Was he ill? Or was Miss Agnes? Perhaps Darcy had gone to the drugstore for medicine.