Homecoming (Sweet Hearts of Sweet Creek Book 1)

by Carolyne Aarsen

  The house standing so solidly amongst the fir trees, exuded a sense of permanence. Placed against the rootless years she had spent with Jason, it was another painful reminder of might-have-beens.

  Even now, as she followed a pathway narrowed by shrubs and ferns and darkened by towering fir trees, she felt as if all the intervening years had slipped away, and once again she was retreating to her sanctuary.

  “The girls and I cleaned out the cabin.” Elise grinned at Sheryl over her shoulder as she opened the door. “Now there’s room to move around.”

  Sheryl followed Elise into the cabin. The wave of nostalgia was unexpected, and for the second time in as many days she felt the unwelcome prick of tears. Eight years of hard-won self-control were brushed away as easily as the cobwebs Elise must have cleaned out of this cabin.

  She quickly turned away from Elise, concentrating on the room instead. The old metal bed, bought at an auction sale, sat in the same place against the wall, the quilt her mother had made out of her old clothes still covered the mattress. Opposite the bed was a walled-in area that held the toilet and shower, and tucked in the corner between that wall and the cabin wall stood a chest of drawers, an old scarf of her mother’s hiding the scarred and gouged top that no amount of sanding could erase.

  Sunlight, muted and crosshatched by the limbs of the fir trees, fell through the window and across the old wooden desk that had been the command post of the dreams and adventures of a young girl who longed to be anywhere but here.

  Sheryl was drawn to it, and as her fingers unconsciously traced the initials she had labored over, she glanced out the window to the swaying trees and the creek that tumbled over the rocks at their base. How many dreams hadn’t she spun, staring out this speckled glass, chin on her hand, elbow on the desk?

  Sheryl shook her head to dispel the insidious memories, turning back to Elise, who stood just inside the door.

  “Sorry.” Sheryl smiled, a sad twisting of her lips. “It feels like I never left.”

  “I’m glad it looks the same. Nate didn’t have time to help, so the girls and I relied on instinct.” Elise shoved her hands in the back pocket of her jeans, and in that movement Sheryl recognized one of the similarities between her and Mark. There were others. Both shared thickly lashed eyes, high cheekbones, strong jaws, but where Mark’s dark hair flowed past his collar, Elise’s was cut short. However, she looked as feminine with her short hair as he looked masculine in spite of the length of his.

  “Nate tells me you used to stay in the cabin quite a bit,” Elise continued.

  “My stays here started out as a punishment, and soon the cabin became a retreat.” She smiled at Elise to ease the bitter note that had crept into her voice. “I probably spent more time here than I should have.”

  “The girls went riffling through the desk once, looking for paper for airplanes. I’m afraid they took some away.

  I took the rest and put them in a box under the bed. I’m sorry about that.” Elise rocked back on the heels of her runners, looking apologetic.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Sheryl reassured her. “They were just old stories and poems. I’m surprised you kept them.”

  “They were part of your past, and everyone should have something to remember their childhood by.”

  “Probably,” she replied.

  “I’m even sorrier to hear about your husband Jason...”

  Sheryl only nodded, letting an awkward silence drift between them.

  “Well,” Elise said as she brushed nonexistent dirt off her pants, that single hesitant word signaling the end of their conversation. “I’ve got to get the urchins cleaned up and in bed. You’re welcome to come by the house once you’ve rested.”

  Sheryl knew she wouldn’t. “I’d like to thank you for having me here,” she said finally. “I know it must be inconvenient for you, knowing how Nate feels about me...” Sheryl let the last part of the sentence drift away.

  “Nate is a good man, a caring husband, but he has his Krickson moments of righteous indignation. Between him and Ed I’ve learned that I’m better off to draw my own conclusions about people.” Elise tilted her head to one side, as if studying Sheryl, her gray eyes soft. “I’ll get to know you on my own terms.” She lifted a hand in farewell. “See you tomorrow.”

  Elise carefully closed the door, her footsteps fading quickly away, leaving Sheryl feeling both bemused and warmed by Elise’s words. Elise had a quiet strength about her, much like her brother Mark.

  With a short laugh Sheryl picked her suitcase up from beside the door. Her impressions of these people didn’t matter much. She was only staying long enough to give Ed the peace of mind he seemed to crave, and then she was off, back to Edmonton, back to...

  She clutched a shirt she had just unpacked to her stomach, looking over her shoulder at the window and the play of sunlight through the trees. The hushed sounds of the brook filtered through the walls, laying down a gentle counterpoint to the wind sifting through the trees.

  Shaking her head, she turned resolutely back to her clothes, hanging them up with rigid determination.

  Don’t even think about it, she warned herself. There’s nothing, not one thing here for you, no life, no friends, no welcome. You made your choice when you ran away from here with Jason.

  She heard a soft knock on the door. Elise must have forgotten something, she thought, dropping her clothes on the bed to open the door.

  Two girls stood on the shadowed deck, each clutching a handful of wildflowers—lupins, daisies and paintbrush. Each wore dirty T-shirts, and bare feet poked out from the frayed hems of blue jeans. Sheryl guessed their ages to be five and six. These must be the “urchins” Elise set out looking for. Nate’s little girls, her nieces. Step-nieces, she corrected herself.

  The oldest smiled, hesitantly, showing a mouth bereft of front teeth, and thrust her flowers forward.

  “These are for you,” she lisped, grinning.

  “Thank you.” Sheryl took the flowers, unable to keep from smiling.

  “And I have some, too,” the second girl, a dark copy of her blond sister, pushed her bouquet toward Sheryl, as

  well.

  “My name is Crystal, this is Marla,” the older girl said. “And we helped my mom clean the cabin for you.” She peered past Sheryl into the cabin. “Pretty clean huh?”

  “Very clean,” Sheryl agreed, sniffing the flowers. “And these flowers will be just the thing it needs to make it look like a home.” Sheryl hesitated, watching the two girls, suddenly jealous of Nate.

  Elise’s distant voice drifted up to them.

  “Oh, brother, there’s my mom. She probably wants us to have a bath.” Crystal turned to Sheryl. “Will we see you tomorrow?”

  Sheryl nodded uncertainly, still holding the flowers. With another grin, they both turned and skipped down the path toward the house, arms outstretched, giggles trailing behind them.

  Nate’s family. Nate’s place. Nate’s home.

  Sheryl stopped herself. She was getting maudlin.

  She glanced down at the bouquet of flowers in her hand, touching them with a forefinger. It was funny. In all the years she had lived here, this was the most welcome she had ever felt.

  Chapter 3

  As Mark approached Nate and Elise’s driveway the next day, he hesitated, then touched the brake, slowing the truck down. Elise had told him she and Nate would visit Ed before church, so he’d left his own home earlier in the hopes of catching them.

  He came to a complete halt just before the turnoff and tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. Would it be obvious if he stopped in? Would he look too much like a nosy Andrews?

  Ever since he’d found Sheryl in the hospital parking lot, huddled against his truck, she had been on his mind. Ed and Nate’s part of the story he knew by rote. Now, suddenly it had another side.

  On the way back from the hospital, she had sat across the seat from him, arms clasped tightly across her stomach, her face averted.

  Thankfull
y Nate was gone when he dropped her off, but Mark knew she would have to meet him today. Would their meeting have the same emotional undercurrents that Sheryl’s and Ed’s had? Nate had never spoken kindly of Sheryl.

  Mark hesitated, then spun the wheel and stepped on the gas before he changed his mind. Dust billowed behind him as the truck flew up the hill. Cresting it, he slowed, then coasted down the other side, stopping behind Nate and Elise’s minivan.

  Crystal and Marla sat on the verandah, chins on hands, elbows planted on knees, and ruffled skirts brushing the tops of black patent leather shoes.

  They jumped up, tripping down the stairs. “Uncle Mark, Uncle Mark,” they both shouted, running toward him.

  Mark slammed the door behind him and, bending over, scooped up little Marla in his arms and swung her around. He retained his hold on her and pulled Crystal against him. As always, their unabashed welcome warmed him, filling the empty spots of his life.

  “We didn’t see you for a long time, Uncle Mark,” Marla admonished, leaning back as if to make sure he was still the same favorite uncle.

  “I was only gone a few days, punky.” Mark squeezed both girls. “How do you like what I brought back for you all the way from Edmonton?”

  “Mommy told me she used to sleep in my room,” Marla hooked a slender arm around Mark’s neck. “And I think she’s pretty.”

  “Did you see her hair, Uncle Mark? I bet she can almost sit on it.” Crystal tugged at the fine wisps of hair that Mark knew Elise had spent twenty minutes curling. “I wish I had hair like that, then I’d be pretty.”

  “Don’t let Grandma hear you say that,” Mark chuckled.

  “I know what she would say,” Marla interrupted. “She’ll say that ‘grace is defeatful and beauty is a pain, but... ’” She frowned, chewing on her lip. Then with a shrug, dismissed the mangled quote.

  “‘But a woman that fears the Lord, she shall be praised.’” Mark kissed his youngest niece, stifling his own laughter, and set her on the ground.

  “Mom said she probably won’t come to church with us. I want her to come because Mr. Hankinson said we should bring a visitor to church, but we never have any visitors,” Crystal complained.

  Mark stroked Crystal’s crisp, sun-warmed hair. “I don’t think Sheryl is used to coming to church, Crissie.”

  “Then she should come for sure, shouldn’t she, Marla?”

  Marla nodded seriously, twisting the hem of her ruffled skirt around her fingers.

  “Can’t you ask her, Uncle Mark?”

  “I don’t think it will help if I ask her.” Besides he was unsure of his own reception after what had happened yesterday.

  “Of course it will matter,” Crystal said, interrupting his thoughts. “Mommy says that all the girls think you’re a hunk.” Crystal’s eyes sparkled.

  “You don’t need to use words like that, Crissie.”

  “Like what? Hunk? It’s not a swear is it?”

  Mark shook his head as he felt a rush of love for these two precious lives. Nate leaned toward a stem upbringing, and it was difficult not to intervene. And as children would, they got very adept at knowing which adult they could cajole and which one would not be led.

  “Could you ask her to come?” Marla’s voice was soft, her expression wistful. Crystal leaned against him, sighing.

  Mark knew they were playing him along, yet he already felt himself softening. Then Marla grabbed his one hand. Crystal the other, and they tugged, pulling him down the path toward the cabin.

  “C’mon girls, I don’t think she’s even awake.” Aren’t you the firm uncle, he thought wryly, unable to resist the encouraging smiles they were throwing his way.

  Crystal ran up the steps, Marla behind her, each disregarding her long skirt. Mark hung back as Crystal knocked confidently on the door. The speed with which the door opened was as much of a surprise as the smile on Sheryl’s face at the sight of the two girls.

  “Well, hello again.” She hunkered down, the hair that Crystal so admired falling to one side like a golden, shimmering curtain. “Did you girls bring me that delicious breakfast?”

  Her face was animated, her green eyes sparkling, and Mark felt an unexplained tug of attraction.

  “We tried not to wake you up,” Marla offered.

  Crystal stepped forward. “Do you want to come to church with us?”

  Mark almost groaned. Crystal’s approach was pure Krickson. Full speed ahead, ignore all corners.

  The smile on Sheryl’s face faded, and slowly she straightened, catching sight of Mark. She paused, their eyes meeting and holding. Mark had to stop himself from taking a step toward her. She looked away, breaking the connection. “I’m not dressed for church.”

  “That doesn’t matter, Auntie Sheryl, we can wait.”

  “Please come,” Marla added her voice to Crystal’s. “We never have a visitor, and Daddy said you’re only staying a couple of days.” Marla turned to Mark, ready to plead her cause, but he saw Sheryl’s discomfort.

  “We had a long drive yesterday, and Sheryl’s probably tired.” Mark kept his voice firm, wishing, not for the first time, that his nieces were sweet, shy and tractable.

  “We really want you to come, Auntie Sheryl.” Crystal caught Sheryl’s hand and turned her own soft blue eyes up to Sheryl’s green ones. A look of pain flitted across her face, so momentary that Mark thought he imagined it.

  Sheryl smiled down at Crystal, a tight movement of her lips. “Do I have time to change?”

  Crystal clenched one fist and jerked it down toward a lifted knee in a childish parody of a hockey player’s victory dance. Mark made a note to tell Nate that Crystal was possibly watching a little too much television.

  Sheryl grinned, and as she looked up she met Mark’s eyes again.

  “We’d like it if you came,” he said.

  “Okay.” She lifted her hands up as if in surrender. “I’ll be real quick.”

  Mark caught Crystal’s hand and gave it a tug. “We’ll wait for you by my truck.”

  Sheryl appeared around the corner of the house two minutes later, dressed in a loose, flowing skirt and brown T-shirt that set off to perfection the gold of her hair.

  The girls ran up to meet her just as Nate and Elise came down the steps of the verandah.

  Nate was the first to see her. He paused, his son balanced on one arm, his face suddenly cold, hard, and Mark knew they hadn’t seen each other yet.

  “Hello, Sheryl.” Nate’s voice had a tight edge to it.

  Sheryl’s step faltered, her smile faded.

  “Hey, Mom and Dad, Auntie Sheryl is coming to church.” Crystal skipped up to her dad, hands flapping in excitement.

  The tension between Sheryl and Nate was palpable, but somehow she overcame her obvious reluctance and walked over to Nate, her hand outstretched.

  Nate hesitated, and for a moment Mark thought he was going to ignore her. Instead he shifted the baby to his other arm and caught Sheryl’s hand in his.

  “Thanks for letting me stay in the cabin,” she said quietly. “It’s like old times again.”

  Nate nodded, releasing her hand, clasping his son closer.

  “Is this the baby?” Sheryl asked, her voice and manner hesitant, totally at odds with the tight, controlled woman Mark had spent the past two days with.

  “Yes. His name is Benjamin.”

  Mark could almost feel the yearning in her as she reached out and touched Benjamin’s chubby hand.

  Nate didn’t even look at her, instead concentrated on his son. Sheryl stroked Benjamin’s arm then her hand fell to her side.

  Mark wondered how Nate could pretend indifference to Sheryl as she stood before him, her face betraying her inner struggle?

  Mark could take no more.

  “Why don’t you ride with me, Sheryl,” he offered. “And Marla can ride on the way up, Crystal on the way home,” he quickly added as both girls clamored to be the third passenger.

  Sheryl bit her lip, her hands clutching
her elbows. She looked like she was caught between two evils, and he remembered.

  “I’ll drive slowly,” he added softly.

  Her shoulders seemed to sag in relief, and without a backward glance she walked over to Mark’s truck.

  “Go get your booster seat,” he told Marla.

  And then a few quick steps got him to the passenger door in time to open it for her. She shot him an oblique glance and got in.

  Mark took the booster from Marla, set it on the seat of the truck.

  Mark glanced over at her as he helped Marla buckle up, still trying to absorb who the real Sheryl was, the self-controlled, secretive woman he spent an entire day with yesterday, or the vulnerable girl she became around Nate and Ed?

  As he pulled away from the house, he glanced at her again. The sun coming through the windshield caught her hair making it shine and glimmer. Her soft green eyes were downcast, shaded by a sweep of sable lashes. As she spoke to Marla, she smiled, a gentle movement of soft, full lips.

  The girls were wrong. She was more than pretty. Now, with her barriers pulled down, she was stunning.

  The rustle of papers and coughs of people subsided like a wave as the church service wound down.

  Sheryl clutched the pew in front of her. It had been years since she had attended a church.

  Her natural father had given her a youthful and carefree trust in God that had managed to withstand the rigors of Ed’s interpretation of parents and duty. But it hadn’t been able to withstand the reality of being Jason’s wife. Broken promises and unanswered prayers had worn her faith down until it had become only a part of her past, like her father’s name.

  But Crystal and Marla showed such exuberance and so easily had overridden her objections. Had she known that it would include a visit with Ed beforehand with the whole family, she would have been more firm. Thankfully Ed didn’t pay much attention to her, and during the visit she stayed in the background, netting yet another disapproving look from Nate.

  As the organ played the familiar introduction to the closing song, she remembered standing in the pew, singing the song with glad enthusiasm, Ed frowning at her, Nate rolling his eyes and her mother trying to restrain her with a pleading glance.