Always on My Mind

by Susan May Warren

  Only then did he look at Tiger.

  He expected a smile or at least something of fascination. But Tiger’s eyes had filled, his bottom lip quivering.

  Darek frowned, trying to continue. “We have to wear these hard hats, and they have this liner inside called Nomex that protects us—”

  Tiger put his head down on his desk.

  Darek’s heart fell. He glanced at Mrs. White, who leaned over her desk, then started toward him.

  But he couldn’t help himself. “Tiger, buddy, what’s the matter?”

  Every head turned to look at his son, and he wanted to wince at his mistake. But evidently Tiger didn’t care because he lifted his head and stared at Darek. Shook his head, his brown eyes wet.

  “You’re saying it all wrong. Tell them about the new tire swing. And the basketball court. And . . .” Tiger looked around the room. “And the big fire and how I got to go up on the roof and hammer. And then Dad let me use a chain saw—”

  “No, actually, I didn’t—” He glanced at Mrs. White, who seemed to be hiding a grin.

  But Tiger had risen now. “Then we made this giant box and poured cement into it—”

  “For the foundation of cabin twelve—”

  “I stirred it with a long stick and then put my hand into it. And it made a mark.”

  Darek smiled at that, remembering how he’d held Tiger over the foundation wall, how he’d pressed his hand in beside Tiger’s.

  “We signed it, too,” Darek said. “‘Theo and Dad.’”

  “And then we went fishing!” He was climbing on his chair now. “And I caught a fish.” He held his arms out as if he was regaling them with a whopper tale. “And then Butter tried to eat it . . .” He frowned. “Except Butter died.”

  Tiger caught his lip in his teeth. Glanced at Darek.

  He walked over to his son, meeting his eyes. “Yeah, Butter died. But . . . Theo is getting a brand-new brother or sister any day now.”

  “Yeah. My mom’s tummy is this big.” He held out his hands, and the class laughed.

  So did Tiger.

  The sound wrapped around Darek, weaving through him, stealing from him his breath, his resolve.

  Oh, God, what have I done? He saw it then—the times he’d crawled in so late, so many days in a row, that he hadn’t seen Tiger for over a week. And the moments he did, he’d barked at him, annoyed.

  No wonder Tiger crumpled up his artwork. Because every time he turned to his father, he got hurt.

  Darek, there are many different definitions of success. I’m not sure that any of them are stamped with the Evergreen Resort logo.

  No, they weren’t. They were stamped with Tiger’s smile and Ivy’s kisses and their sweet baby moving under his hand.

  He’d forgotten that with the stiff brutality of the winter. By trying to simply survive, he’d lost sight of the reasons he wanted to.

  “But Dad’s building us a new house,” Tiger was saying, still talking. “And I’m going to get my own bedroom and a swing set and maybe even a dog!”

  Oops, he’d better pay attention. “Whoa, let’s start with the baby and go from there.”

  But Tiger had turned to him, such a wide smile on his face that Darek could deny him nothing. “But probably.”

  “And we’ll name it Scooby-Doo!” Then Tiger launched himself off the chair.

  Darek should have expected it—did, really, and his instincts caught up in time to catch him. “Whoa, Tiger—”

  But his son flung his arms around his neck, squeezing. He put his lips right up to Darek’s ear and whispered loud enough to be heard in Canada, “I love you, Dad.”

  Darek didn’t care that every kid in the room might be watching. That he looked like a fool with tears edging his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Tiger, buried his face in his neck, breathing in the sweetness of his brilliant son. “I love you too, buddy.”

  He leaned back as Tiger took Darek’s face in his hands, his own face solemn. “Don’t go, Dad. Please don’t go.”

  The room hushed then. Darek could hear his heartbeat as he nodded. “Don’t worry, pal. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He set him down, tousled his hair.

  “Mr. Christiansen—Darek—would you like to stay for lunch? I think we’re having fish patties.”

  “Yum,” Darek said, winking. Except his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the text. “But actually I think I have a prior engagement.”

  Casper could admit harboring an unreasonable joy with Raina riding behind him on the snowmobile, her arms wrapped around him, just like she had that day when he’d pulled her out of the mud, nearly a year ago.

  He didn’t know the reason for the sadness that shadowed her eyes, but he could light a fire with the sudden flash of passion at his suggestion. He couldn’t exactly account for why he’d stopped earlier, either, driving out of the Java Cup with his morning jolt. He’d turned onto Main Street and the person on the bench caught his eye.

  He stopped without a thought as if his inner psyche was so in tune with her, he couldn’t help it. And as he did, he prayed, an act so habitual now, it embedded his thoughts. Please, Lord, ignite joy in her.

  He didn’t exactly mean to invite her along on his quest. The words simply spilled out.

  Or maybe he recognized too well the expression on her face. Lost? Discouraged? Yeah, he’d lived with that feeling long enough to understand the compassion that rose in him.

  Faithfully loving anyway.

  His father’s words lurked inside and he heard them again, embracing them, perhaps: And what does love do? Forgives. Comforts. Protects. Saves. Renews. Loves.

  Regardless of the cost.

  Except, right now, he didn’t know what price he might be paying, with the sun high, turning the snow into a texture perfect for snowball fights and ice forts. He followed the dirt road that led back to the old town, the evergreen trees low and treacherous, conspiratorially forcing Raina to hang on to him as he ducked and dodged their grasp.

  Under the thaw, the forest seemed to come alive, a rebirth in the air with the trickle of water flowing down rocky streams and birds scattering at the roar of his machine.

  “Do you really think we’ll find something?” Raina shouted over the motor. She had braided her hair when they stopped by her house for her to change, adding the pink fleece headband that only softened the amber-brown in her eyes. She’d clearly regained her figure, her ski pants clinging to her in a way that brought back images of last summer and her tanned legs. She wore the powder-blue jacket and a pair of woolly mittens and might be the prettiest treasure hunter he’d ever seen.

  Do you really think we’ll find something?

  He already had. And lost it. However, maybe over the past few weeks he’d put enough of it back together that she’d listen to him. He didn’t hope for more than that—just a chance to warn her away from Monte and suggest that she wasn’t alone. He might even go for the gold and remind her that God loved her.

  He slowed, cutting the engine noise. “I think most of the town has decayed, but I did read that Thor’s curio shop still stands, along with the attached apartment. Maybe they left something behind. Hold on.”

  She tightened her mittened grip around his waist, and he gunned the machine. He’d tracked his mileage, the map tucked into his pocket, but guessed correctly when they happened upon the ghost structures on the outskirts of a main thoroughfare. He slowed the machine again, searching for his bearings.

  The town sat in a depression in the forest, a valley under the shadow of Eagle Mountain, which rose in the west. The high afternoon sun crossed shadows through an overgrown swath of what must have been the main street. The skeletal foundations of brick and wooden structures betrayed the former prosperity, with a few buildings still standing. At one end, a tiny church’s steeple caved in a wooden roof. Next to it sat a log schoolhouse, the timbers rotted and one wall collapsed.

  This side of town, he recognized the scars of tiny cabins, a d
ilapidated boardwalk. He motored the snowmobile into town, spied a false-front building with saggy windows.

  “How big was this place?” Raina asked.

  “According to my research, about forty-six families lived here. They had a post office and a general store, a school, a couple churches. It was originally a lumber town, but I think someone might have found gold here too. Anyway, the government bought it and absorbed it into the Indian reservation, and the families moved away. I think that’s when Aggie and Thor bought the trading post in Deep Haven.”

  Raina pointed to what looked like a cemetery, just on the outskirts of town through a wrought-iron arched entrance. “I wonder if we’d find Duncan Rothe in there.”

  Casper glanced over his shoulder, and she waggled her eyebrows at him, the shadows gone from her eyes.

  “I think he’s probably buried deep in the forest, if at all, if he really came after Aggie like Thor suggested. I can promise you if anyone came after the woman I loved, I wouldn’t leave his bones behind.”

  Oh. He didn’t quite mean that.

  Really.

  Especially when she frowned. But then, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “I think that’s the curio shop,” he said and pulled in front of the building. He parked, and she got off. “Be careful. I’m not sure how sound the structure us.”

  Raina moved onto the boardwalk, and he followed. Water flowed beneath it. A sign hung over the main door: Ten and One, Wilder Curios. Light-green paint, the color of the sea, peeled from the wooden door in jagged curls.

  On either side, broken glass-paned windows still displayed taped adverts from bygone years. One advertised a dance at the nearby VFW. Another was for Dr. Swett’s root beer.

  “This one is for a Viewtone television. Half-radio, half-television.” She leaned down. “The screen looks about as big as an iPad.”

  “And only sixty-five years old.” When he grabbed for the door handle, it came off in his grip. “Oops.”

  “You break it, you bought it,” she said.

  “Funny.” He reached around, pried open the store door. It whined on its hinges.

  “It smells like animal in here,” Raina said as she stepped forward.

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm.

  She flinched, recoiling as if he’d hurt her, and the response stopped him cold.

  “Raina—”

  “I’m fine. Wow, look at this place.” She ventured inside.

  Casper stood there, frowning. No, please . . .

  But she waited for him inside, surveying the place, unfazed, so maybe he was reading too much into it.

  “It’s clearly been vandalized,” she said as she crunched across the litter of glass, empty display cases torn from the walls. The branches of a dead birch poked through the partially collapsed rear wall.

  The place did smell of animal, raw and feral.

  She walked into a back room. “This looks like the cold storage,” she said, her voice echoing. “In a curio shop?”

  “I think he ran it more like a general store, with curio items for sale. Please, be careful—”

  “Look what I found!”

  He turned and glimpsed a head with painted blonde hair, one side of her face caved in, emerging from the room. “What—?”

  Raina poked her head out from behind it. “A mannequin. Sort of. Mannequin parts.”

  “Any secret doors?”

  She made a face. “Just Mabel here. Holding down the fort.”

  “Leave Mabel behind. I think this is the door to the apartment.” The tiny apartment leaned against the store like an afterthought, but when he opened the door, he saw the charm inside.

  Raina came in behind him, peering over his shoulder. “Wow. Creepy.” She pushed past him, and he trailed behind as she surveyed the remains of the tiny apartment. A low ceiling with a long beam held up plaster, and the chinking between the logs had begun to crumble onto the painted wood floor. Two broken windows had let in leaves that littered the floor, forming a pile of debris at the front of the room. Along one wall, a brick fireplace still housed the cast-iron stove, ash spilled on the hearth. A broken cane chair sat at a built-in table. Rosebud wallpaper peeled from the walls in wide swaths, and a chipped Formica counter ran against the far wall, a porcelain sink betraying its age. The door of an icebox hung ajar.

  Small. Primitive.

  Raina stood at the bottom of rough-hewn stairs, looked up.

  “Maybe not a good idea,” he said, pointing to a hole in the ceiling.

  She wrinkled her nose at him and climbed up anyway, peeking through the top. “It’s empty. And the roof is exposed.”

  He stood below her, ready to catch her if the stairs gave way. When she turned, he held out his hand. “Scare a guy, will ya?”

  Raina came down the stairs. “Aggie was an heiress. Worth millions. And she chose this?” She walked around the room, kicking aside debris.

  “Maybe she loved Thor.”

  Raina looked at him. Nodded. “A lot.”

  Was that her fascination with Monte—that he had money?

  He hadn’t thought about it before, but yeah, a woman who’d grown up in poverty without a home might find that kind of security alluring. Even if it came attached to a shyster like Monte.

  She ventured to the room in back. “Hey, you gotta see this.”

  Casper followed her and found her standing in a small bedroom, light streaming in from a window. A door to the outhouse in back stood ajar.

  “Look.” She walked to a beam running at eye level across the back of the room, ran her fingers along etching there. “‘Aggie and Thor, 1930.’ And here is ‘Otto, 5/1931.’ Gust told me he drowned when he was ten.”

  “So sad.”

  “Yeah. Maybe that’s why they moved—they couldn’t bear to face the past.”

  She ran her hand along the beam, and the action stirred up his brother’s words. It’s not like she has a ring on her finger, right?

  Raina turned and, in the soft glow of the afternoon light, looked so pretty it could silence him. “Sadly, I don’t see any hidden treasure.”

  Yeah, but he did. Sure, maybe he’d never find the treasure of Duncan Rothe—but he didn’t need it. Not really.

  She walked past him again, and he couldn’t help it—he reached out and took her arm.

  Again she winced, and that shook him right out of his moment. “Are you hurt?”

  She frowned, jerked her arm away. “No. I’m fine.” But she’d answered too fast and he saw the lie in her eyes.

  “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

  She stared at him, her face flushing, her breath quick. “No.” But her hand went to her arm. “He didn’t mean it—”

  “He didn’t mean it?” Casper’s voice rose and echoed in the tiny room. He cut it in half, repeated his statement, his heart thundering. “He. Didn’t. Mean. It.”

  “Casper, you don’t understand—”

  “Here’s what I don’t understand: what a beautiful, smart, courageous, strong woman is doing with a guy like Monte. And please, don’t tell me it is for his money.”

  She flinched, her eyes sharp. “You’re a jerk.”

  That slowed him a little, but—“I guess I am, but you deserve better, Raina. Monte is—”

  “Monte wants me, Casper. He doesn’t see my sins every time he looks at me. And yeah, he might be sort of bossy, but it’s just because he is so into me. He . . . wants me.”

  She turned away, pressed a hand to her mouth. “Just leave me alone.”

  So they were back to that.

  Or not, because he’d had enough of leaving her alone. “I want you.”

  Oh. He sucked in a breath. “Seeing you with him is killing me, and the idea that he hurt you . . .”

  She didn’t move and he turned away, stared out the window, shaking.

  He could hear her breathing behind him.

  Then, “You . . . want me?”

  Casper closed his eyes. You can be your own worst enemy som
etimes.

  He turned. “Yeah. I want you in my life. I think about you all the time. I can’t seem to do anything without the thought of you in my head. I tried—wow, I tried. I went two thousand miles away and still . . .” He swallowed, took a step toward her. Her eyes widened. “Still I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I . . . I love you, Raina. I never stopped. I don’t think I can.”

  He was breathing hard, his heart right there in his hands.

  Her expression, the way she drank in his words as if she wanted to believe him, could make him weep. “I love you too, Casper. I—”

  But he didn’t care what she was about to say—in fact, didn’t want to hear it, just in case it might resemble her pushing him out of her life.

  So he kissed her. Just wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to himself, his mouth full on hers. Hungry.

  Oh, he’d missed kissing her. She tasted like sweet coffee, memories of summer, freedom. She moved into his arms, wrapped hers over his shoulders. Kissed him back. In fact, her response seemed so utterly Raina, so full of life, of passion, that he realized how completely she’d gone into hiding.

  Out of shame, probably. Except, not anymore. He could burst with the joy of kissing her, moving both arms around her waist to mold her against him, picking her up, twirling her around. She made a little sound in the back of her throat as if another barrier collapsed, and he set her down, cradled her face, softened his kiss.

  She smelled so amazing, and he wanted to peel back time . . .

  Yes.

  Casper broke away and pressed his forehead to hers. Caught her beautiful eyes. “Raina . . . let’s just forget about everything—the past and what happened and . . . let’s start over. I don’t care anymore. Not about any of it. Not Owen . . . or . . . the baby. Oh, please, can’t we—?”

  She stiffened. Put her hands to his shoulders and pushed.

  He backed away. “What—?”

  But she raised one hand to her mouth. Shook her head.