by Beth Wiseman
Brooke noticed all the work that had been done since she’d been there. “The house looks good,” she said as Denny led her through the living room.
“Yep. We’ve been pretty busy.” Denny stopped in the kitchen door. “Hunter, somebody to see you.”
Hunter’s freckled face was red from tears, his bottom lip trembling. His eyes widened when he saw her, and he quickly sat tall and wiped at his nose with his hand. “Mrs. Holloway, what’re you doing here?”
Brooke pulled out a chair next to him at the kitchen table. “Brooke. Call me Brooke.” She put a hand on his. “I just want to know if there is anything I can do for you.”
He pulled his hand away as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Why?” He quickly wiped it away.
“Because I—I know how it feels to lose someone.”
“I mean, why would you come see me? After what I . . .” He stared down at the floor.
Brooke sent up an emergency prayer. Help me say the right things. “The past is the past, Hunter. It’s over. And I’m here for you now. At this moment. Is there anything you need?”
He sniffled, shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Has anyone called your parents?”
“Oh man!” He threw his head back against his shoulders, then raised it to look at her. “I didn’t think ’bout that. I got to, don’t I?”
Denny, who had been busy at the kitchen counter, now brought over two cups of coffee and placed the mugs in front of them, then took a seat in a chair across from Brooke and Hunter.
Brooke pushed her cup to the side. “Do you want me to call them and tell them?”
Hunter grabbed his chest. “I don’t feel so good. Where’s Owen? When’s he coming back?”
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” Brooke waited a minute before she asked him again if he would like for her to call his parents.
“Yeah, I guess. It’s my mom’s mother, so I guess she needs to know.” Hunter put his head in his hands.
“If you’ll give me the number, I’ll call her.” She glanced at the daisies in a vase in the middle of Owen’s table, the same hybrid variety that someone had laid on her doorstep. “Where did the daisies come from?”
“Hunter brought those.” Denny let out a light chuckle. “Said the place needed a woman’s touch.”
Brooke stared at Hunter for a while. “Did you mow my yard? Put the flowers on my doorstep?”
Hunter kept his head down but nodded. “Just wanted to make up for—” His voice cracked.
Brooke took a chance and put her arms around him. He stiffened at first, but it was only a few seconds before he buried his head in her shoulder and cried. She stroked his stringy hair as she fought her own emotions and wondered how she had any tears left.
Twenty-Five
Owen was pleased with the way the house was coming along, and he was enjoying his uncle’s company. Most of all, he was glad that over the past couple of weeks he and Brooke had agreed to roll with whatever was happening between them and quit carrying the past around like a bright torch. The only thing he wasn’t pleased about was that Hunter was having a rough time of it.
Owen had stood by the boy through the funeral—which his parents were allowed to attend before being promptly shipped back to the rehab facility. Owen was glad about that. Hunter’s father had been a real jerk through the whole process and had even pushed Hunter once. He’d backed off when Owen stepped forward.
Though Brooke hadn’t attended the funeral, she was playing a new role in Hunter’s life. They had grief in common, and she was able to offer Hunter a comfort that Owen couldn’t. But there was only so much anyone could do to make Hunter feel better. He stayed busy working during the days, but Owen worried about him each night when he went back to his house. It wasn’t clear if he’d be able to stay there much longer. Owen doubted the landlord would want to keep renting to a seventeen-year-old with a record.
Owen waited until they’d all finished eating lunch one day before broaching a topic he’d been stewing over.
“Hey, Hunter.” Owen pulled a handful of chips from the bag. “What’s your plan? I mean, for the future?”
Hunter shrugged, his mouth full. Brooke had brought over a huge tub of chicken salad the day before, and they were all enjoying it for lunch again.
“We’re going to be through with this house in another month or so.”
Hunter stopped chewing for a moment and swallowed hard. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“So I can’t keep working with you forever.” He glanced at his Uncle Denny and stifled a smile when Hunter’s expression fell to the floor. “But I’ve gotten kinda used to having you around. So I was thinking you could just move in here.”
Hunter swallowed as his eyes widened. “Really?”
Owen shrugged. “Why not? Just three bachelors hanging out. It’s not like I don’t have enough room.” He chuckled, then pointed a finger at Hunter. “But you have to have a job.”
Hunter grinned. “Denny ain’t got no job.”
Owen’s uncle slammed a palm down on the table. “I work every day at just staying alive.”
Owen knew his uncle had plenty of money, and he’d offered a generous amount to Owen for letting him stay there, but Owen had declined. His settlement with Gary had left him with plenty, for the short term at least. He was toying with the idea of working again, though, something that seemed out of reach for him emotionally a few months ago. Maybe when the house was done.
“So, what do you think? Want to be a bachelor with us?”
“Sure,” Hunter finally said. His face turned red. “Thanks, Owen.”
Owen picked up all three paper plates and tossed them in the trash. “Well, bring your stuff whenever you want and pick a bedroom upstairs.” He was glad Hunter had said yes. This way Owen could keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t backslide into his old ways. It was a satisfactory arrangement—for now, anyway. Who knew what would happen in the future.
On more than one occasion, in an incredibly premature daydream, Owen had pictured Brooke and her children in this house. Sometimes he still wondered how long Uncle Denny would stay, where Hunter would end up, and if there really was a possibility that he, Brooke, and the kids could be a family someday. He was wiping down the new ceramic counters when he realized that he and Brooke had never talked about children.
I wonder if she wants more?
Brooke, Meghan, and Spencer walked into the house loaded down with shopping bags.
“I remember those days.” Her mother walked into the living room, sipping on a glass of iced tea. “Always fun to go school-clothes shopping.” She put her glass on the coffee table. “Let me see what you got.”
They dropped their bags on the couch. Meghan started digging around in the bags and eventually pulled out a pink dress. “This is my favorite!”
Brooke plopped down in the recliner, grabbed a tissue from the box on the table, and dabbed her forehead. “The thermometer in my car said 106 degrees. I thought we were going to melt.” She waited until Meghan and Spencer finished showing their grandma their new clothes. “How’s Daddy today?”
“Doing very well.” Mom smiled. “He loves your chicken salad and ate a healthy portion.”
Brooke was glad to see her mother looking less tired. Her father had been sleeping better. Actually, he had been sleeping a lot, which worried Brooke sometimes, but he had a doctor’s appointment next week, so maybe they’d learn more about how he was progressing. “I’ll go check on him.”
Brooke walked into her parents’ bedroom and smiled. Her father was sitting up in bed, at least ten pounds lighter than when he’d arrived at the house. But he seemed to have a little more color in his face today, and it was good that he was eating. He was surrounded by photograph albums and little piles of loose pictures.
“I’m trying to memorize everything I missed,” he said as he stared at one of the albums. Brooke walked to the edge of the bed, moved a couple of the books, and sat down. She le
aned closer to see which one her father was looking at, then she laughed.
“Is that not the goofiest picture in the world?” She laughed again as she pointed to the picture. “I’m fourteen in that picture, and me and my friend Linda were playing hairdresser. Linda thought I needed an Afro. I bet she teased my hair for an hour.” Her father chuckled, then turned the page. One of the photos there showed Brooke and her mother at Brooke’s high school graduation. “Third in my class,” she said softly.
Her father touched the picture with a trembling hand. “You have your mother’s smile.”
“She always said I had your smile.” Brooke touched his hand. Then she pulled up a chair, scooted closer, and spent the next hour going through the albums with her father. He cried when he looked at her wedding photos, even though he’d been through that album several times already. Brooke thought about Travis’s picture frame and the fact that her father’s slot didn’t have as many pictures as the rest of them.
“I should have been there to walk you down the aisle.”
Brooke fought the urge to say, “Yes, you should have.” She’d forgiven him, but even forgiveness came with regret. But now she also wondered how much she and her mother were to blame for their inability to forgive all those years ago.
“I’ll be right back.” Brooke left her father and returned with Travis’s picture frame. “Feel up to a project?”
Her father nodded, and Brooke pulled out the bag of pictures that she’d brought home from the shop recently. For the next couple of hours, they worked together to add more pictures behind the door on the frame and, in the process, filled in a little more of the emptiness Brooke had been feeling in her heart.
Later that evening, after she’d gotten the kids all tucked in, Brooke bathed and climbed in her own bed, waiting for her phone to ring. Owen called her every night at ten.
“All tucked in?” he asked when she answered.
She rolled onto her side and snuggled into her covers. “Yep. I survived school-clothes shopping, and I think I might actually sleep well tonight. What about you? How was your day? How’s Hunter?”
“I think he’s okay.” Owen paused. “I asked him if he wanted to move in with me and Uncle Denny. He seemed pretty excited about that.”
“You’ve been really good to him, Owen. You’ve completely changed his life.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he answered softly. “But I could see where Hunter was headed. I’m glad he seems to be moving in a new direction.”
Brooke rolled onto her back as she twisted a strand of hair. “So how long do you think Denny will stay?”
“I have no idea. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave, and he’s good company. He’s helped a lot on the house too.” Owen laughed. “When I bought this place, I thought I’d be working on it forever. It’s amazing how much the three of us have been able to do.”
“It’s beautiful, Owen. It really is.”
“I miss you.”
Brooke smiled. “I just saw you yesterday.”
“I know, but I didn’t see you today. How’s your dad?”
Brooke sighed. “He doesn’t eat much, but he’s kind of gone from not sleeping much at all to sleeping most of the time. I don’t really know what that means.” She took a deep breath. “But we’re getting to know each other again, and that’s good. His face lights up when I walk in the room. It’s just all very bittersweet, I guess. I get confused about it all—how much I hated him back then but still always wanted us to be a family and how he’d wanted to come home but I never knew it. But I know in my heart that this is what God wants—for my father and me to reestablish a relationship while we still can. Forgiving him has given me some peace of mind.”
Brooke was hoping that Owen was working on his own forgiveness. Until he forgave Virginia, it would be hard for him to move forward. For them to move forward. But when she mentioned God, Owen still clammed up, just like he was doing now. She was clear about her role with her father, but she wasn’t sure about Owen, whether to push the issue or not. Things had been going so well with them, and Brooke knew that the Lord used to be a big part of Owen’s life. He’d told her that. Please, God, she prayed for the umpteenth time, let him find his way back to You.
“Remember, I’m going to Houston tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll be there until Saturday.”
Brooke knew that Owen had been talking to a public relations firm in Houston about establishing a satellite office out of his house. “Yep, I remember. Are we still on for Saturday night?”
“Absolutely! I can’t tell you how much all three of us are looking forward to a home-cooked meal. You’d think that one of us would know how to cook, but we’re a pretty pitiful threesome. We’ve managed to burn some steaks this week, tried our hand at chicken and rice—the recipe you gave me, the rice didn’t get done for some reason—and Denny seems to think that eggs are okay for dinner every night we don’t have something planned. I’m so sick of eggs.” He groaned. “I’m even getting sick of peanut butter.”
Brooke laughed. “Well, I’ll bring lasagna, salad, and some garlic bread.”
“The chicken salad has been great the past couple of days. Have I mentioned that I miss you?”
Twenty-Six
By the time Saturday arrived, Owen was counting the hours until dinnertime. His time in Houston had gone well, and the associates he’d met there were familiar with the work he and Gary had done in Austin. He would probably start back to work out of his home in a couple of weeks, and he was looking forward to it. He couldn’t believe the way his life had turned around in just a few months.
He still thought about Virginia from time to time, but he didn’t miss her or feel much of anything for her besides a dull resentment. He supposed that after all their years of marriage she would linger in his mind no matter how he felt about her. Every time he thought about Brooke and her father, he knew he needed to forgive Virginia. He just wasn’t there yet.
He’d gradually started praying again, but he wasn’t comfortable talking about it, even though he could tell Brooke wanted him to. Right now, he was just trying to get straight with the Lord in his own way, on his own time frame. Owen had even been praying for Hunter, who had moved in while Owen was gone, putting most of his grandmother’s things in storage. Owen prayed the boy would stay on the right path and not get too derailed by grief.
“There!” Denny emerged from behind the new washing machine. “Hoses are connected. All ready to go.”
They’d finished painting the mudroom in the back of the house last week and decided to make it into a laundry room. He and Denny were tired of running back and forth to the local washateria, which meant that dirty clothes tended to pile up. With Hunter under the same roof now, the place was starting to smell.
Denny turned the knob to Start. The washer had a see-through top, and he and Owen watched the water begin to swirl as if they’d created a masterpiece. “Would ya look at that?” Denny snorted. “Glad I remembered how to hook one of these things up. We should have done this a long time ago.”
Owen nodded, thinking about how he hadn’t heard his uncle mention his memoirs, going on another trip, or how long he would be staying. Not that it mattered.
“Well, it was always on the to-do list, but with the new roof and the electric work, it just kept getting pushed to the back burner.”
“Well, I’d have lit that fire long before now.” Uncle Denny tucked his long gray hair behind his ears and dabbed his forehead with a rag. Then they both watched the washer move from the first cycle to the second.
“Seems to work fine.” Denny pushed the Stop button. “Let’s load some clothes for the true test.”
Hunter walked in. “We have a washing machine. Thank God!”
Owen knew that was just a figure of speech, not a prayer. But these days, any mention of God tended to trigger regret that he’d walked away from the Lord when things got rough. “Indeed,” he said quietly.
Uncle Denny clapped his hands
together. “I’m going to wash up before the food gets here.” He licked his lips. “Can’t wait.”
“I’m just glad we ain’t having eggs again,” Hunter said.
Owen grinned. “Me too.”
When Brooke showed up at Owen’s, he grabbed her around the waist and almost made her drop the pan of lasagna. “I have a surprise for you,” he said as he kissed her on the cheek. Then he finally took the casserole dish and greeted both the kids. Spencer handed Hunter a bag that had the salad, dressings, and bread in it.
“Come on, come on.” Owen nodded to his right, and Brooke brought a hand to her mouth when they entered the dining room. A beautiful new dining table with seating for eight spanned the newly painted room. The light amber walls and white trim were a perfect backdrop for the cherrywood table and chairs.
“Owen, it’s beautiful!”
“I’ve had it on order for a while. I was afraid it wouldn’t get here before tonight, but it was delivered while I was gone.”
“Well, we are certainly going to eat dinner in style.” Brooke had always imagined a dining room just like this one—big and roomy and filled with family. An only child, she’d dreamed of having lots of children when she grew up. She’d heard Owen say that when he and Virginia were married, he’d been the one who wanted children. She wondered if that was in his plan anymore—and if that plan included her.
Before they ate, Owen insisted on giving her and the kids yet another tour of the house. It was amazing how much three men could get done in a few days. She laughed when they insisted she watch the new washing machine run as if it were the grandest thing on the planet. “I’ve seen one of these work before,” she said, then giggled.
Once they were all seated for dinner, Brooke looked across the table at Owen and smiled. Hunter and Denny were to her left, Spencer and Meghan to her right. She wished her parents were here, filling the two empty chairs, but her father hadn’t felt well enough to get out tonight and her mother had refused to leave him.
