Return to Emmett's Mill

by Kimberly Van Meter

  Carrie visibly paled at the threat she read in his eyes and took a faltering step backward as if not quite sure how to make an exit with her dignity intact. Finally, she lifted her chin and met his glare, though she scaled down her cutting tone. “I’m just trying to help him. Can you say the same?”

  He pointed toward the door. “Out.”

  She sent one final angry stare his way and stiffly left, clacking down the porch steps in her ridiculous heels to climb into her sleek Mercedes. He didn’t bother to watch her drive away, content with the sound of her retreating tires. Pushing his hand through his hair, he let out a short breath and stared up at the ceiling while he willed his blood pressure to come down to a healthy level. What a crock of shit. She didn’t know jack about what was good for Christopher. If she did, she wouldn’t keep forcing him to be someone he wasn’t. It didn’t matter how many baseball camps or soccer tryouts she sent him to, he wouldn’t come out a jock. He just wasn’t cut out for that.

  Walking to Christopher’s door, he pushed it open and peeked inside. “You okay?” he asked, only a little surprised to see Christopher was already online simultaneously chatting and logging onto his MySpace account. So the kid liked the Internet. Where was the harm in that? At least he knew where his kid was each night, unlike some parents. “You hungry?”

  “Mom picked up McDonald’s on the way,” he answered without taking his eyes off the screen or his fingers from the keyboard. “Thanks, though.”

  Josh smiled. And the kid had manners, too. “Not too late, okay, buddy?”

  “Yeah, sure, Dad.”

  Josh closed the door, wondering—only because of the seed Carrie had planted with her poisonous accusations—if Chris was acknowledging him or just blowing him off. No, he and Chris didn’t have that kind of relationship. He shrugged off the lingering effect of Carrie’s claim and returned to his sanding, content that everything was fine with the Halvorsen men.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “DEAN CALLED LAST NIGHT, said they’d come over sometime today to look at the damage,” Tasha explained to her sisters the next morning over coffee.

  “Oh, good.” Natalie visibly relaxed. “I didn’t sleep very well last night because I was worried about that damn hole.”

  “It’s going to be fine,” Nora said, between mouthfuls of blueberry scone. “Like I said, Dean and Sammy will fix us up. I wasn’t worried.”

  Annoyed, Natalie glared at Nora. “Glad to hear you slept like a baby.”

  “So, when’s he coming?” Nora asked, ignoring Natalie.

  “He didn’t say, just sometime today,” Tasha answered. “I figured while we were waiting we could go through Mom’s things.”

  “What’s the rush?” Nora asked.

  “No rush, exactly, but why wait?” Tasha countered, but she caught the knowing look in Natalie’s eyes and averted her own. That was the disadvantage to sisters; they saw through your bullshit. “Well, I can’t stay forever, and if you want my help we need to get moving,” she said, dusting pastry from her hands until she caught Nora’s hard look. For crying out loud… Tasha threw her hands up in exasperation. “What, Nora? What now?”

  Nora’s eyes cooled despite the anger radiating from her small frame. She stiffened, saying, “I find it insulting that you are so eager to hightail it out of here when we need you. Fine. You want to dig through Mom’s things so badly, go ahead. Do it yourself.”

  Natalie moved to intervene, but Tasha could only glare, her own temper spiking at Nora’s attitude.

  “Nora, be fair…” Natalie’s frustration was evident in her tone.

  Nora made a small sound of disgust. “I have to meet a client about some landscaping. Thanks for the scone,” she said.

  Irritation washed over Tasha when she’d thought they’d heard the last of Nora’s tirade, only to see Nora turn at the door.

  “Just get over yourself already,” Nora said. Tasha sputtered indignantly, but Nora didn’t give her the chance to say anything in her defense. “I get that there’s something you guys aren’t telling me about the reason why Tasha doesn’t want to be here, but if you’re not going to clue me in, you can’t expect my sympathy…or understanding.”

  Tasha was too angry to listen to the logic in her sister’s declaration. Several minutes passed before Tasha could speak again without wanting to rail at her youngest sister. “I don’t know how much more of her crap I can take.”

  “You should tell her,” Natalie said quietly. “She’s not a kid anymore. And, she’s right, until she knows why you’re so reluctant, her attitude is not likely to change.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t feel like shouting it from the rooftops,” Tasha returned stonily. Natalie’s take on the subject left Tasha feeling betrayed. “Besides, it’s none of her business.”

  Natalie sighed and stared into her coffee cup as if searching for the right way to phrase her next statement. She lifted her gaze. “You’re right…it’s your business and no one else’s but…Nora is your sister, too. And she loves you. Give her a chance.”

  “No.” Tasha sent Natalie a firm look. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’ll be in Mom’s side of the closet pulling her clothes if you need me.”

  Tasha left the room before Natalie could say anything, anger fueling her steps until she was standing before her mother’s closet, breathing in short, tight huffs.

  She ran her tongue across lips chapped from dehydration, her mind spinning from her conversation with her sisters. Determined to focus on something other than her acidic stomach, she pushed open the closet door and staggered at the faint, beguiling scent of Chanel that followed.

  Mom.

  Tasha inhaled deeply with closed eyes and let the scent roll over her in a comforting wave. Missy had always been the gentle, guiding force that kept the girls’ willful personalities from colliding into one another. Without her, there was nothing to keep their worst qualities from taking over during a weak moment. Tears stung her eyes and she drifted through a handful of memories.

  Mom in her garden, knees dirt-stained, dragging bags of mulch to the churned topsoil and grinning as she brought a basket of fresh cucumbers, tomatoes and peppers from her glorious, well-tended garden.

  Mom in the kitchen, flour dusting the apron tied around her slim waist and a wealth of love shining from her eyes as she listened to her girls chatter about their school day.

  Mom in her favorite chair, nodding off with a magazine sliding from her slack fingers while Dad watched reruns of The Honeymooners.

  Tasha sank to the bed and dropped her face into her palms, shaking as her heart poured out its never-ending grief. She mourned the loss of a mother as only a daughter can. An hour later, she jerked at the strong, male voice at her back.

  “Tasha? You okay?”

  “Sammy?” Josh’s younger brother stood in the doorway, his face breaking into a wide grin as she quickly wiped at her wet cheeks and rushed to accept a bear hug from an only slightly shorter version of Josh. “Sammy…I hardly recognized you! You’re all grown up,” she said, drawing away so she could regard him more closely. “The last time I saw you, you were only sixteen, same as Nora. What have you been up to?”

  “Working with Dean. In fact, he sent me over here to take a look at the hole Josh was talking about.”

  As if remembering, she groaned and pointed. “Oh, yeah…it’s in what used to be Natalie’s room. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Stepping into the hallway, she called out to Natalie but was met with silence. Sammy answered instead.

  “We passed each other on the way. It looked like she had your Dad in the car with her. Should I come back later?”

  “No, no, of course not.” Tasha felt bad for snapping at Natalie but hid her consternation from Sammy. She opened the door and allowed it to swing wide. “As you can see, it’s pretty big. I still can’t believe nobody knew about it.”

  Sammy’s eyes widened at the destruction, but he was also holding back a laugh. Sammy inherited the
Halvorsen sense of humor. Sammy laughed at everything. “How’d this happen?”

  “Who knows? Like I told Josh on the phone, it was likely caused by a tree from the last storm, but it’s just an educated guess. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a fair guess,” he said, moving to the plastic sheeting and pulling it from the hole. He peered down, then up, surveying the damage with a critical eye. It was an odd thing to be standing there with a grown-up Sammy when she’d left behind a kid. Now he was going to help fix their wall. “Shouldn’t be too hard to patch, probably only take a week to fix. Structurally, it seems sound, but I’ll have Dean come out to make sure. He’ll also be able to give you an official estimate and time frame.”

  “Thanks, Sammy,” Tasha said, her voice still a little nasal-sounding from her crying jag. He held the door open for her and then closed it behind them. Tasha was impressed. “When did you turn into a gentleman?” she asked playfully.

  He grinned, but a blush gave away his embarrassment. “Somewhere along the way, I suppose. When’d you get even hotter than when you were going out with my dumb brother?”

  “Sammy!” She laughed, gesturing for him to follow her into the kitchen. “Come share a scone with me.”

  “A scone? Do I look like the kind of guy who eats scones?” Sammy asked, but he was already eyeing the blueberry choice with a glint in his eye. He accepted the small plate with a wink. “Well, just for you.”

  “Thanks,” Tasha returned dryly, enjoying the unexpected reunion. “Tell me what you’ve been up to,” she demanded as she bit into her second scone of the day.

  “I already told you, working with Dean. That’s about the extent of it. Not everyone leads such an exotic life,” Sammy teased, and she blushed. “The question I should be asking is what you’ve been up to all these years. I mean, I’ve heard all sorts of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, that you’re saving some native tribe from the terrors of outdoor plumbing and creating a democracy for some other tribe deep in the jungle who don’t even wear pants!”

  “You don’t need pants in the jungle,” she pointed out, and Sammy acknowledged that small fact. Tasha smiled and continued, “And, I feel obligated to set the record straight, seeing as your source isn’t very accurate. I haven’t been involved in any democracy-making project, but I have helped create a sewage system, and currently I’m working with physicians from Punta Gorda who travel to an outpost in the Maya Mountains to help vaccinate or treat the villagers who won’t come down to seek medical attention on their own. And, I just started with a team who’s working on building a serviceable water-treatment plant for the small village.”

  “That’s even better than the rumors,” Sammy said, losing some of his jocularity until he crumpled his napkin into a ball and sent it flying in a perfect arc into the trash can. “So, are you staying here or going back to your glorious loincloth-wearing villagers?”

  The way Sammy phrased it, it was hard not to giggle, though the question was not posed without seriousness and Tasha knew it. Sobering, she nodded. “I’m going back.”

  Disappointment washed over his strong face. “That’s too bad. I was hoping you’d stay.”

  “Why? Thinking of asking me out on a date?”

  “If Josh doesn’t I just might.”

  Sadness replaced her former lightheartedness and she shook her head. “Sammy…Josh and I don’t have a future beyond what we already shared in the past. It seems Josh and I are the only ones who realize that simple fact.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why does it have to stay in the past?” Sammy asked.

  She stared at him quizzically. “Because it does. C’mon, Sammy…where’s this coming from?”

  Sammy seemed caught and sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno…I just see my brother hurting and you were always the one who could reach him.”

  “What’s wrong with Josh? He seemed fine at the wake.” That wasn’t entirely true. There’d been sadness hiding in his eyes, but she suspected a divorce wasn’t a picnic.

  Sammy waved away her question, regret in his expression. “Forget I said anything. If Josh knew I’d said anything, he’d tear me a new one. It’s good to see you again, Tasha…even if you’re still out of my league.”

  He gave her another one of his signature Sammy grins, all boyish charm and roguish good looks, and Tasha wished Nora had seen Sammy as more than a friend once they were old enough to notice those kinds of things. She sighed and accepted another hug. It felt good to see Sammy.

  Tasha saw Sammy to the door and waved as he drove away, but his last comment was still ringing in her head. She couldn’t escape the thought that deep down, hidden from everyone, was a pain Josh was suffering alone.

  And it bothered her more than it should.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JOSH ARRIVED AT GERALD Simmons’s house, ready to work but still griping at Dean for sending him instead of someone else on the crew. But his own grousing didn’t compare to the silent anger written all over his son’s face. Josh learned today was a pro day at school, which meant only the teachers went, giving the students a day off, and he’d hit upon the bright idea to have Christopher help him out at the job site.

  Christopher had turned him down and immediately powered up his computers, the action bothering Josh more than he wanted to admit. And then, after trying to appeal to some sense of male bonding and failing, he flat out insisted Christopher come. Carrie might’ve been right about one small thing: the boy spent way too much time indoors.

  So, his teenage son sat, sullen and uncommunicative, beside him, as they pulled up to the Simmonses’ place.

  He drew a deep breath and stared at the house, knowing Tasha was probably in there with one or both of her sisters. Running into Tasha before had been accidental; the wake carefully handled…but this? He wanted to kick his brother in the tender spots for his obvious attempt at throwing them together.

  “I thought you said we were going to a job site?” Christopher asked, his annoyed expression marred by a subtle confusion.

  “This is the job site. We’re repairing the side of the house that was hit by a tree. The Simmons family are friends so they thought of Uncle Dean’s construction company to repair it.”

  Christopher nodded but didn’t lose his dour mood. Josh withheld a sigh and tried to remember that he hadn’t always been a bowl of sunshine growing up, either.

  He was just about to knock on the door when Nora appeared, looking hurried.

  “Hey, Josh!” Nora said, bolting past him to her truck. She waved at the house and shouted from her window as she pulled out of the driveway. “Tasha and Nat are inside. Tell Sammy I said hi!”

  Josh agreed by way of a wave and Christopher stared. “Who was that?” he asked.

  “Nora Simmons, the youngest. She’s a good friend of your uncle Sammy’s. C’mon, let’s get inside.”

  Knocking, he entered with his head first, looking for either the Simmons women or Gerald himself. Someone hollered for him to come on in and he closed the door behind Christopher and him.

  Without Missy’s comforting presence, the house seemed empty. If he felt it, he could only imagine how Tasha and her family felt.

  Tasha and Natalie came from their parents’ bedroom, each carrying a good-size box, and a stronger sense of sadness washed over him as he realized they were carrying Missy’s things. One box was labeled Goodwill, the other Personal.

  “Do you need some help?” he asked, needing to feel useful. “Me and Chris can load the Goodwill stuff in my truck and take it in for you.”

  Tasha’s eyes were uncommonly bright with unshed tears, but she shook her head. “I’ll do it,” she said, moving past him to put the box against the wall where the rest would undoubtedly go. She added with a briefly held smile. “Thanks, though.”

  Josh pulled Christopher out in front of him to introduce him to Tasha. “This is my son, Christopher. Christopher,
this is my friend Tasha.”

  Christopher extended his hand, and Josh was pleased to see even in a bad mood he didn’t neglect his manners. “Nice to meet you,” he mumbled.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” she said, her voice strained. She cast a look Josh’s way and he was struck by how much raw emotion he saw. “He looks so much like you when you were a kid.”

  Josh smiled, knowing it was true. Christopher had Carrie’s nose, but otherwise, he did look remarkably like Josh had at that age. He only hoped Christopher filled out like he had. “I brought him to help out since school was out for the day,” he said.

  She nodded her approval. “Like you and your brothers used to work with your dad. That’s so great.” Tasha gave Christopher a warm smile. “You’re lucky to have such a talented father who’s willing to teach you everything he knows. Being able to work with your hands will be useful when you’re an adult.”

  Christopher shrugged but didn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”

  “Well, I’d better get back to what I was doing. Good to see you again, Josh…Christopher,” she said, acknowledging his son, and then disappeared.

  Natalie entered the room and detoured with a box to a separate area so as not to mix it with the ones leaving. She stretched her back as if she’d been bent over boxes the entire morning. “Can I get you some coffee?” she asked, twisting one way then another. “I’ve got decaf if you’ve already had a few cups.”

  Josh wouldn’t mind a cup, but he was on the clock and declined. Plus, with Christopher in his current mood he didn’t want to waste too much time. “Dean sent me to patch up that wall, so I think I’ll just get to it.”

  “All work and no play makes Josh a dull boy,” Natalie teased, though there were dark circles under her eyes. Missy’s death was hard on them all.

  “Where’s your dad?” he asked.

  Natalie sighed and pointed at the back porch. “He’s taken to sitting there for hours at a time. It’s all we can do to get him to eat now and then. But I’ve left him there for the time being because right now I don’t think he’s up to watching us divvy up Mom’s things.”