Home to Montana

by Charlotte Carter

  Picking up another piece, Nick wondered if he was hearing the hint of a threat: Don’t mess with our friends. He slid the piece into place.

  Ezra grunted.

  Abe said, “You planning to stay around long?”

  Nick decided he should’ve risked sitting at the counter. “Nope.”

  “Alisa know that?”

  Leaning back in the booth, Nick gave the two men a hard stare. “She knows.”

  They both grunted, then leaned forward to find new pieces to stick in the puzzle.

  Nick felt like he’d been kicked in the ribs. He deserved it. His leaving was going to hurt Alisa. Greg too. But what could he do? He’d hurt them a lot worse if he stuck around and had another flashback like the one the other night.

  These old guys didn’t know what he’d done, tackling Alisa to the floor, injuring her, or they’d probably run him out town.

  No need for that. He’d be leaving under his own power as soon as Mama showed up.

  When the pancakes arrived, they tasted like sawdust. The berries bitter on his tongue.

  Memories were just that. You couldn’t go back.

  * * *

  It was midafternoon when Mama showed up in Dr. McCandless’s SUV. He pulled into a spot right in front of the diner.

  From behind the counter, Alisa spotted them.

  She stopped what she was doing and ran out to greet her mother. “Mama!”

  The doctor helped Mama out of the car, and Alisa stepped into her mother’s welcoming arms. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she said, surprised by the tears that formed in her eyes. Mama seemed to have shrunk while she’d been gone, not as tall as Alisa remembered and with more wrinkles, while before she’d always seemed bigger than life. Youthful. Maybe she’d always seen her mother through the eyes of her childhood.

  “I’m glad to be home, too, Alisova.” Stepping back to look at her daughter, Mama cupped Alisa’s cheek. “What happened to your head?”

  Alisa had all but forgotten she had a bandage on her forehead. “We had a little accident in the kitchen. It’s nothing, really.”

  Mama’s brows lifted, questioning.

  “Let’s get you inside.” Avoiding her question, Alisa took one of the suitcases that Dr. McCandless had retrieved from the back of the SUV. “I’m sure you must be tired from the long ride.”

  “Not at all.” Mama smiled fondly at the doctor.

  “Oh, well...do come inside. I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you home safe.”

  Inside, Jolene was the first to greet Mama with a hug. “How was your trip?”

  “Quite wonderful. We had an excellent tour guide and bus driver. He arranged it so we saw all the sights, at least those that didn’t require hiking for miles into the wilderness.” Mama laughed. “Half of us even took Jeep tours into the backcountry.”

  “How wonderful for you,” Jolene crooned.

  A couple of their regulars greeted Mama, welcoming her home. They chatted for a bit before letting Mama proceed. Alisa thought sure Mama would want to go upstairs. Instead, she went right into the kitchen where Nick was prepping for dinner.

  Mama beamed at him. “Nick! You’re still hard at work I see.”

  “Welcome home, Mama.” He wiped his hands on a cloth while Hector greeted her as well.

  She turned back to Nick. “I hear you’ve had some good ideas to cut costs for us.” She scanned the room to check that everything was in order.

  “Alisa and I talked about a few things. She’s waiting to go over them with you.”

  “Nick has already negotiated a better deal with the wholesaler by buying in bulk,” Alisa said.

  “Excellent.” Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at the doctor. “Nick, it seems, is quite a good businessman.”

  McCandless smiled indulgently. “Glad to hear it.”

  “How are your burns?” Nick asked, his tone far more serious than Mama’s had been, and Alisa suspected he was checking to see if he’d be free to leave.

  Mama held out her hands, which still looked red and raw. “Royce can be a very bossy doctor. Medicine all the time. Exercises.” She flexed her fingers. “Never giving me a moment’s rest.”

  “Which has speeded your recovery, my dear,” the doctor pointed out. “And remember, you must continue using the cream on your hands and arms, and doing your exercises.”

  Mama wrinkled her nose, but she didn’t appear upset by the doctor’s orders.

  Greg came in the back door, his hair mussed from a day at school, saw Mama and ran to her. The routine of welcome home greetings and hugs continued until Mama decided she was ready to go upstairs.

  Eagerly, without so much as a look in Nick’s direction, Greg took Mama’s smaller suitcase and followed Mama and the doctor upstairs.

  Alisa’s feet stayed rooted in place, the width of the prep table between her and Nick. She held her breath. Was he going to pack up and leave right now?

  “Mama looks well rested,” he said. “The trip must’ve been good for her.”

  “I suppose.”

  He picked up a wooden spoon to stir the potato pancake batter he’d been mixing. “I’ll work through the dinner shift. Mama probably needs to rest. Then I’ll leave in the morning.”

  Her spine rigid, her jaw tight, Alisa said, “I’ll figure out what we owe you and get you the cash tonight before you leave.”

  His lips flattened into a straight line. “There’s no need. I’ve got plenty of money.”

  “The Machaks always pay what we owe. And by the way, Greg says he doesn’t want your dog.”

  She turned and walked upstairs to help her mother unpack. This time she’d be strong. She’d build a wall around her heart that no man would ever again scale.

  * * *

  After cleaning up the kitchen, Nick had requisitioned a couple of day-old sweet rolls from the diner to have for breakfast the next morning, and he’d made coffee in his room. He intended to slip away as unnoticed as possible. He’d said everything to Alisa that he needed to.

  Guilt twisted in his gut. The wad of cash Alisa had given him burned through his wallet in his hip pocket.

  He hadn’t said goodbye to Mama. She had hired him. Given him a chance when she didn’t even know him.

  He brushed the crumbs off the desk he’d used for a table and dumped the remaining coffee down the sink.

  Mama should be grateful he was leaving before he hurt someone else during one of his flashbacks.

  Rags sniffed at the crumbs that had landed on the carpet. “Come on, buddy. You already had your breakfast.”

  Picking up his duffel, he slung it over his shoulder. He felt bad about Greg not wanting to keep Rags. The boy should have a dog. And Rags needed a boy like Greg to play chase and fetch with, both of them expending all that irrepressible energy.

  Downstairs, Nick tossed the duffel in the back of the truck and closed the tailgate.

  He sat behind the wheel for a minute looking up at the window of the family quarters. A band tightened around his chest. No matter how he felt about Alisa, no matter how much he’d come to care, leaving was the best thing he could do for her.

  Starting the truck, he drove out of the parking lot. Rags put his nose right up against Nick’s neck and whined.

  Nick patted the dog’s muzzle. “We’ll be okay, boy,” he promised, although he was pretty sure that was a lie. “We’ve got lots of miles to travel today.” But could he go far enough to forget Alisa’s sweet floral scent or how her eyes lit up when she smiled? Or the way she’d tasted when he’d kissed her?

  The first thing he did was stop at the gas station in town to fill up. For a long trip, he wanted to start with a full tank.

  When he pulled out of the station, he turned right on to a residential road. He wasn�
�t sure why he’d done that. But a couple of blocks later, he slowed to a stop across from the house where he’d been born.

  A young mother was playing catch in the front yard with her toddler son. She’d toss a big beach ball to him. He’d try valiantly to catch it, usually falling down on his diapered butt. Up he’d get, chasing after the ball and throwing it back to his mom. Sort of.

  “Good boy!” she cried when she scooped it up. “Just look at you. You’re getting so big. Daddy thinks you’re going to be a football player. How’d that be?”

  The youngster laughed as though her comment had been the most uproariously funny thing anyone had ever said and clapped his hands.

  “Okay, Bobby, here it comes again. Get ready.” Mom tossed the ball and the whole scene repeated.

  Unaccountably, tears burned at the back of Nick’s eyes. Had his mother played with him like that? He couldn’t remember being that young. But he did remember her walking him to the school bus on the first day of kindergarten. He’d been scared spitless.

  She’d knelt beside him, handing him his lunch sack. She’d been so pretty, fair complexion, dark expressive eyes and hair as black and shiny as the ravens that cawed from the treetops. “Don’t you worry, Nicky. You’re going to be the smartest, most wonderful boy in your whole class. Your teacher is going to love you. If you have a problem, you just ask for help, okay?”

  He remembered the dread in his stomach as he climbed into the bus. The fear he was going to throw up. All those bigger kids terrified him.

  He’d headed for the back of the bus, got up on his knees so he could look out the window. His mom waved and threw a kiss as the bus pulled away. She’d gotten smaller and smaller until the bus turned the corner.

  Somehow he’d found the courage to sit down and face forward. If he was going to be the smartest, most wonderful boy in his whole kindergarten class, he’d have to act it. Make his mom proud of him.

  Wiping his tears away, he doubted his mother would be proud of him now. Running away from his problems.

  In his head, he heard her sweet, loving voice again. “If you have a problem, ask for help.”

  Almost like an echo, he heard Alisa at the intervention pleading with him. “You have to let them help you.”

  He rested his head on the steering wheel. Maybe it was time to make his mother proud of him again. And Alisa.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alisa helped her mother prepare dinners for the Saturday night crowd. Mama wore soft, white-cotton gloves while she worked. Even so, Alisa could tell it hurt Mama to grasp the handles of pots and pans; she often used both hands to hold the weight.

  Gritting her teeth, Alisa knew Mama’s burns hadn’t healed enough for her to be back to work, no matter what Dr. McCandless said. If Nick had cared about Mama, he would’ve stayed another couple of weeks.

  Instead, he’d been so wrapped up in his problems, he’d run away. Talk about an egotist!

  She plucked a medium-rare T-bone steak from the grill and slapped it on a plate, passing it to Hector to add the baked potato and veggies. Whatever Nick Carbini thought, the world did not revolve around him.

  “You shouldn’t have let him go.” Mama serenely scooped penne from a pan of boiling water, drained the noodles and covered them with a ladle of chicken in cream sauce with pesto. She added a dash of parmesan.

  Alisa didn’t pretend to not know who she was talking about, although her mother’s words hurt. “How would I have stopped him? He was a drifter before he got here. He’ll always be a drifter.”

  “If you had cared enough, Ben might have stayed.”

  “I cared.” She plated a medium-well sirloin. “At least I thought I did.” She’d certainly cried enough crocodile tears. Admittedly, some of those tears were from hormones due to her pregnancy. And fear, she supposed.

  “I’ve seen the way Nick looks at you. Nick will come back, Alisova. And when he does, don’t let him get away again.”

  Alisa snorted an unladylike sound. Maybe when she was old and gray Nick would return but not before. She didn’t dare hope for even that. What good would it do anyway?

  They worked side by side until the orders began to let up and the hum of voices from the diner quieted.

  “Mama, I can handle things for the rest of the shift. You should go upstairs, get to bed early. You’ve put in a long day.”

  Looking tired, beads of sweat glistening at her hairline, Mama set her stirring spoon aside. Wincing, she tugged off her gloves.

  “I hate to admit it, but I am tired. If you’re sure you and Hector can handle—”

  “We’ll be fine, Mama. You go ahead. You’ll be stronger tomorrow.” But what about the next day and the day after that? She wasn’t getting any younger. Working as hard as she had all these years, soon she wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace. Alisa would have to take over more and more of the load.

  Not that she would mind. The Pine Tree Diner was the only home she’d ever known. In Bear Lake she was surrounded by friends who were like her family.

  Her chin trembling, her eyes burning, she reached for the next order to be filled. Grilled chicken with dijon sauce and fresh trout rolled in cornmeal, fried in butter.

  She turned to the refrigerator to get the chicken and trout. A tear leaked down her cheek. What she didn’t have here in Bear Lake was a man to love who loved her in return. A man whose kisses made her feel like a woman.

  * * *

  Nick pulled his truck past the Pine Tree Diner to the back of the lot. It was past closing time. There were no cars around except those at the motel. The kitchen was dark. So were the family quarters upstairs.

  It had taken all the courage he had to come here after his hours-long talk with Pastor Walker. It was going to take even more chutzpah to talk to Alisa.

  As likely as not, she could tell him to get lost. He wouldn’t blame her.

  The pastor had kept saying “Trust in the Lord.” Nick would have to do that because he sure didn’t think he was worthy of a woman as good and fine as Alisa.

  But he was going to do his best to become that man.

  Leaving Rags in the truck, Nick climbed out, picked up a few pebbles and walked toward the diner. It had begun to rain, splattering on the ground in big drops. He took a deep breath.

  “I sure hope the pastor was right, Lord. If not, I’m likely to get a flowerpot dumped on my head.”

  Fingering a pebble, he tossed it at the living room window of the family quarters.

  * * *

  Unable to drop off to sleep, Alisa considered getting up to work on the jigsaw puzzle on the kitchen table. The mindless task would relax her. Quiet the riotous, what-if thoughts of Nick that were keeping her awake. The thought that if she had asked him to stay, told him that she loved him, he wouldn’t have left.

  Or, more likely, his rejection would have left her feeling more like a fool than ever.

  She heard something plink against the living room window. Probably a big moth or a starling confused by the security lights outside.

  Two more plinks. Apparently not a real smart moth.

  A few more plinks and she was convinced there was a moth invasion outside the diner. Maybe locusts.

  Climbing out of bed, she pulled her light robe around her and went into the living room. She opened the drapes. No moths or any other creatures she could see.

  Something hit the window again and she jumped back. “What in the world?”

  Cautiously, she approached the window and looked down at the ground. She gasped and her heart rate kicked up a notch. Nick? Standing there throwing something at her window? She’d thought he’d be hundreds of miles away by now.

  Nick will come back, Alisova.

  But for how long?

  Opening the window, she stuck her head out. “What are you
doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Talk? His actions had done all the talking she’d wanted to hear when he drove away this morning.

  “Can I come in?” His dark hair glistened with raindrops. “I’m getting pretty wet out here. I promise I won’t stay long.”

  Only long enough to break her heart. Again.

  She didn’t rush downstairs. It wasn’t that she was playing hard to get. Her knees had gone all wobbly on a thin thread of hope. She’d really feel foolish if she tumbled down the stairs and broke something.

  Cautiously, she opened the back door. He stood on the porch, the shoulders of his army jacket damp, his dark whiskers shadowing his square jaw. He looked like a hero home from the war and not knowing where he fit into civilian life or if he ever could. How had she not recognized that look the first day when he volunteered to chop kindling for her?

  How had she not realized his drinking and fighting, his time in prison, had all been a result of his PTSD?

  “Hi,” he said in his low baritone voice.

  “Hi, yourself.” Opening the door wide, she stepped back to let him enter. She resisted the urge to grab him and hold on to him for fear she might never let him go. Or at least smooth his damp hair away from his forehead. But she couldn’t do that either. “Is Rags with you?”

  “In the truck. He’s okay.” He walked into the kitchen. The glow of the pilot lights on the stoves and the reflection of the outside security lights cast the room in phantom shadows. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, I wasn’t asleep.” I was awake thinking of you.

  He shoved the lock of hair away from his forehead and shuffled his feet. “I was leaving town this morning, probably for good.”

  She swallowed hard. “I know.”

  “But for some reason, I drove by the house where I was born. Figured I’d take one last look, I guess. I sat there a long time watching a young mother playing with her son. It made me think of my mother. She was a good mom. I think you would’ve liked her.”

  “I’m sure I would have.” Although Alisa wished Nick’s mother could have protected him from his father. Perhaps she did until she died.