by Lisa Jordan
Tyler rested his head against Stephen’s chest. He traced one of the buttons on Stephen’s denim shirt. “That lady? Lindsey? She said her dad died and she misses him a lot, too. She said he was a police officer. Did you know him?”
“Lindsey’s dad was my former partner. He was Mrs. Grace’s husband.”
“Do you hate that mean kid who shot him?”
Stephen lifted Tyler out of his lap and leaned over the tub. He tried to form an answer as he filled the tub with warm water. Steam rose and kissed the tile surround. Being careful of Ty’s injured arm, Stephen removed his son’s shirt. “Hate is a strong word. Yes, at times, I hate the guy who killed Thomas, even though I know I’m not supposed to. What he did was wrong and I want him to be punished for what he did. Hating him is wrong, too. Jesus wants us to love our enemies.”
“That’s tough.”
“You’re right, pal. It is.”
“Do you think he’ll ever be found?” Tyler pulled off his jeans and climbed into the tub. He reached for an orange can of foamy soap and squeezed citrus-scented foam in his hands.
Stephen threw Ty’s wet clothes in the overflowing hamper. Laundry—another thing to add to tonight’s to-do list. “I hope so, Ty, because I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”
“I don’t want you to get shot.” Ty made a foamy orange beard.
The kid looked at him with serious eyes, but the bubble beard…well, it was hard to keep a straight face. “That’s something you don’t need to worry about. Let’s get your hair washed.”
“Am I still in trouble?”
Stephen lathered Ty’s hair with some fruity kids’ shampoo they picked up at the grocery store. “Dude, you’re not skating out of this one. Leaving the yard without my permission was wrong, and because of that, you will not be allowed any TV or video games tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see Mommy.”
“I know you did, buddy, but if I say no, it’s because I know what is best for you. It’s my job to keep you safe. It’s your job to follow directions. I was so scared something had happened to you.” Stephen adjusted the water temperature and rinsed Ty’s hair and beard. He held out a towel as Ty stepped out of the tub. “Dry off and put on your pajamas while I throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. We’ll play a game, if you want.”
Stephen tried to be everything for Ty, but the kid needed a woman’s touch. He needed those magical boo-boo kisses. Someone to tape his pictures to the refrigerator when Stephen forgot. He deserved homemade chocolate-chip cookies and something more nutritious than macaroni and cheese. He needed—they both needed—someone like Lindsey.
Fat chance of that happening.
Stephen headed to the kitchen, but a sudden thought slammed his feet to a stop. If Lindsey saw Tyler at the cemetery, that meant…
Oh, man, he was a first-class fool.
Chapter Five
Lindsey sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Oh, so tempting to head out of Shelby Lake. As far from Stephen Chase as she could possibly get. Where did he come off saying she was the one who left? Seriously? Had he expected her to stick around and watch him play happy family?
She pulled into her mother’s driveway and shut off the engine. The faded blue Victorian house with buttercream trim that she’d called home for the first twenty-two years of her life sat quietly at the end of the cul-de-sac on Morning Glory Lane. She was home.
She grabbed her purse and ran down the cobblestone path to the wide front porch. Leaves stuck to the chipped painted steps like postage stamps.
Lindsey unlocked the front door and stepped into the foyer. Dropping her purse on a small blue-and-cream pinstriped chair, she toed off her wet heels and kicked them onto the rubber mat near the brass umbrella stand. She padded barefoot across the gleaming hardwood floor that smelled of lemon oil and trailed her fingers along the mahogany Queen Anne table against the wall. Autumn flowers arranged in a crystal vase and a picture of Granddad, Grandma, Aunt Claire and Mom taken at their fiftieth anniversary sat on a crocheted table runner.
Welcoming. Cozy. Two words that always described her mother’s house.
Lindsey grabbed the wooden banister and stared up the broad staircase. When she was little, she’d dressed up in her mother’s old prom dresses and pretended to be Scarlett O’Hara making an entrance. Now the thought of climbing the staircase pushed out a sigh. If she could, she’d curl up on the bottom step and sleep until morning.
But she couldn’t sleep in wet clothes. The idea of a bubble bath in Mom’s claw-foot tub propelled her feet forward.
Within minutes, she was chin-deep in hot water and peach-scented bubbles. As the warmth seeped to her bones, her muscles relaxed for the first time since Granddad’s early morning phone call.
The phone rang, but Lindsey closed her eyes and ignored it, letting Calgon take her away.
A door slammed.
Lindsey jumped and sloshed water over the side of the tub.
Someone was in the house.
Shadows crawled across the floor. The room was dark except for the glow of the night-light near the bathroom sink and the flickering candle Lindsey had lit prior to escaping into the tub. Her bathwater had cooled. She must’ve fallen asleep in the tub.
Grabbing a lavender bath sheet, she stepped out of the tub and dried off. She threw on pajamas borrowed from Mom and pressed her ear to the bathroom door. Not hearing anything besides her rapid heartbeat, she turned the doorknob and winced as the door creaked open. Could she dash across the hall to her old bedroom to call 911 without the intruder hearing her?
Singing drifted up through the heating vent in the floor. Burglars didn’t sing, did they? A delicious aroma floated up the stairs. Her nose twitched and her mouth watered. Her stomach growled. Grandma or Aunt Claire must have dropped off food, but the singing didn’t sound like either of them.
Deciding to take her chances, Lindsey crept down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. Instead of finding Grandma or Aunt Claire, a very pregnant woman pulled a steaming casserole out of the microwave. She turned, closing the door with her elbow.
Lindsey squealed. “Melissa!”
Melissa set the covered glass dish on the stove and rushed across the room with her arms open wide, hands still clad in alligator pot holders. “Lindsey! I can’t believe it. You’re actually here. I’m sorry your mom broke her leg, but I’m so thrilled to see you.” They hugged and danced around in a circle like a couple of giggly preschoolers.
“How did you know I was here? Did my grandma or aunt call you?” Lindsey pulled out two chairs and motioned for her best friend since seventh grade—and Stephen’s baby sister—to sit.
“No, not exactly…” Melissa plopped on one of the chairs. She removed the potholders and dropped them on the table. Her face scrunched into a grimace. The same look she always gave Lindsey when bad news was coming. Then Lindsey knew.
“You talked to Stephen.”
Melissa nodded. “We talked this morning after your…well, when he first saw you. Then he called a little bit ago. All upset about Tyler and the things he said to you.”
“Good. He acted like a jerk.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Lindsey wished she could have grabbed them back. “I’m sorry. He’s your brother. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Melissa laughed. “No need to apologize. He said the same thing. He begged me to come and check on you. Believe me, I didn’t need a reason. You’re my best friend. I just figured you were still at the hospital.”
“Granddad and Gram practically pushed me out the door and ordered me to get some rest. I’m going to pack a bag for Mom and head back to the hospital first thing in the morning.”
“He does feel badly about what happened, Linds. Especially after you were so sweet to Ty. He took his fear out on you.”
“No need to remind me. I was there.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Change of subject. You must be st
arved. I made a cheesy chicken-and-rice casserole. Great for a nasty day like today. By the way, I love the new color your mom repainted her kitchen.”
Lindsey glanced at the freshly painted sage-green walls with oatmeal-colored trim and nodded. Wicker baskets in different shapes and sizes hung around the perimeter of the room in place of a border.
Lindsey opened one of the cabinets. “Have you eaten?”
“Actually, yes. Nate and I grilled earlier with a new lady from church. I’ll stay while you eat, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Gives us more time to talk. This was so sweet of you, Mel, but you didn’t need to do this. You should be resting.” She closed the cabinet door and ran a hand down the front of the frosted oak finish, remembering how the beaten cabinets had looked when Dad brought them home from the auction. The hours spent refinishing them had paid off. They looked showroom new, even after being in place for almost a decade.
Melissa massaged her bump. “Resting? Really? Baby Bump is due at the end of the month. I’ve been cleaning and cooking up a storm. I have enough meals frozen to last until this pip-squeak goes off to preschool. I’ll set the casserole on the table. You go ahead and eat while it’s still hot.” Melissa removed the cheery sunflowers in a vanilla-and-green swirled pottery pitcher from the middle of the oak trestle table and set them on the counter. She placed the steaming casserole in its place.
Lindsey set the table, filled glasses with water and settled in her chair. “I missed you. Chatterbox and all. We don’t see enough of each other.”
“If you’d come home more often, we could.” Melissa clamped a hand over her lips and shook her head. “I am so sorry. Nate said my mouth was going to get me into trouble one of these days. He’s right, you know. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, Linds. Believe me. I just meant—”
“Relax. I know what you meant. And you’re right. I should have come home more. It was just so hard…so painful, you know?” Lindsey scooped some of the chicken casserole onto her plate. A few minutes ago, the savory herbs made her mouth water, but now her stomach ached. “How could I stay and risk running into the happy family at the grocery store? Or church? Or hang out with the same friends I shared with Stephen?”
“I’m sure it would have been hard at first. I don’t think your friends would have felt like they had to choose sides. They loved both of you. But now you’re back.”
Although her family and friends said they understood, no one truly did. She did what was best for everyone—she’d left. But now she was back. And her heart still ached just as much.
“Mommy!”
Stephen slapped the snooze button on the alarm clock before his sleep-induced brain kicked into gear and realized it wasn’t time to crawl out of bed yet. He forced an eyelid half-open and squinted at the clock.
3:04 a.m.
He groaned.
“Mommy!”
He flung back the covers and dragged his fatigued body out of bed. Using the hall night-light as a guide, he stumbled to Tyler’s bedroom.
He stifled a yawn as he edged his way to Tyler’s bed. The Spider-Man night-light in Ty’s room cast a reddish glow across the carpet. Stephen thought it looked creepy, but Ty insisted on it.
As usual, the blankets were twisted with one end coiled around Ty’s leg. Ty huddled in the corner of his bed, clutching a crinkled photo and one of Bethany’s Tshirts. His eyes wide and unfocused.
Stephen picked him up and cradled his stiff body against his chest. He dried Ty’s tears with the hem of his T-shirt and rubbed Ty’s back as he rocked him back and forth.
“Shh, Ty, you’re okay. I’m here.”
“I want Mommy. My arm hurts.”
“I’ll get the medicine. I’ll be right back.” Stephen started to lay Ty on his pillow, but Ty wrapped his good arm around Stephen’s neck.
“No! Don’t go! You won’t come back!”
“Yes, I will.” But instead of arguing, Stephen carried him to the bathroom across the hall. He flicked on the light and winced at the sudden brightness. Tyler buried his face in Stephen’s shoulder.
He fumbled for the bottle of children’s ibuprofen and managed to measure out the correct dose of orange liquid without spilling it all over the counter. He handed it to Ty and waited as the kid downed the pain reliever. Stephen filled a plastic Spider-Man cup with water and gave Ty a drink.
“All better?”
Still drinking, Ty nodded, spilling a few drops on his blue-and-red pajama top.
“Easy, tiger. You’re giving Spidey a bath.” Stephen eased the cup out of Ty’s grip and dried off his face and shirt. He tossed the hand towel next to the sink.
“Can I sleep in Mommy’s bed?”
Stephen shook his head. “We talked about this, remember? You need to sleep in your bed.”
“Can I sleep in your bed? Please? Just tonight? My arm hurts.” A tear slid down Ty’s cheek and splatted against the blue sling in his lap.
Stephen’s heart splintered. He couldn’t fight this.
With Ty’s legs wrapped around him, Stephen stumbled back to his own room. He tucked Ty into the king-size bed and settled beside him.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Does Mommy know I hurt my arm?”
Stephen blinked back sudden warmth in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know for fact, but I’m sure she does.”
“Am I going to die like Mommy?”
“Someday, Ty, but not right now. I’m sure your arm hurts enough to feel like you are, but trust me—you’re going to be around for a long while if I have anything to say about it.” Stephen slid an arm under his son’s shoulders and drew him against his chest. He kissed Ty’s hair. “You’ll be with me for a very long time, Ty, my man. Hush while I pray for you. Lord, thank You for medicine and doctors who help us. Thank You for Ty. Please take away the pain so he can sleep. Amen.”
“’Men. Love you.”
“Love you, too, partner.”
Tyler snuggled closer. His chest rose and fell in a steady motion as his body relaxed.
Stephen closed his eyes and tried to relax his body so sleep would overtake him. Instead, his parting words to Lindsey kicked around inside his head. Mel had given him an earful when he called to ask her to check on Lindsey. He deserved every word. He acted like a jerk. Lindsey deserved an apology. If she’d let him close enough again to give it.
But he wanted more.
He rolled onto his back and flung his other arm above his head. He rapped his hand on the slats of the mission-style headboard. His wedding ring clanked against the wood.
He fingered the gold band. A symbol of his promise to his wife. The wife he honored while she was alive. But she was gone now.
Maybe God was giving him and Lindsey another chance. He couldn’t seek a relationship with her while wearing another woman’s ring.
Sometimes he wished he had a handbook detailing the rules of losing a spouse. When to take off the ring. When to date. How to make his son’s life easier.
Careful not to disturb Ty, Stephen slid his arm out from under his son and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and twisted his wedding band, remembering the last five years from those first tentative months when Stephen and Bethany had treated each other like polite strangers to those moments when they’d become a family. Picnics in the park, outdoor cookouts and family game nights…they’d worked hard to create positive memories for Ty. Until Bethany’s pain and fatigue confined her to the bed where she’d stayed until her last dying breath.
He scrubbed his hand over his face, not surprised to find his eyes damp. He loved her. A terrific wife and mother, she’d also become a good friend. Couldn’t he at least be faithful to Bethany’s memory? He needed to preserve her memory for their son. Instead, he wanted another chance with Lindsey.
Hauling himself to his feet, he strode to his dresser, twisted the ring off his finger and placed it in the bottom drawer of his valet
box, next to his grandfather’s watch. He flexed his fingers, and then ran his thumb over the indentation in his finger.
A mark only time could ease.
Chapter Six
Somewhere between the haze of sleep and waking, Lindsey had the brilliant idea she could commute between the inn and Shelby Lake. Maybe she could dip into her savings to hire a live-in nurse for Mom—hey, the inn could wait another year for a new roof. Maybe Grandma and Aunt Claire would be willing to lend a helping hand.
Yeah, right. As if they didn’t have enough to do.
Okay, so maybe commuting wouldn’t work.
She tucked the blankets under her chin and rolled over to slide back into the dream she had been having until the commuting idea shook her awake.
Something wet dropped into her ear.
Her eyes shot open.
She flopped onto her back in time to see another drop bubbling from a tealike stain blooming across the ceiling. She rolled out of bed and stood next to it. What in the world?
The water droplet left a mark in the depression of her pillow.
Lovely.
What an absolutely terrific way to wake up.
Lindsey jammed her fingers through her wet, tangled hair. How did she manage to sleep through this mess?
Last night’s storm wasn’t exactly a lullaby. Rippling thunder, whistling wind and pounding rain carried on past midnight or so before allowing Lindsey to drift off to sleep. Still, she should have awakened when the water started dripping on her.
Lindsey stomped across the carpet and opened the blinds. Sunshine cascaded over the windowsill, warming her bare toes. She unlocked the window and shoved it open. Sticking her head out, she craned her neck to see if she could find anything against the roof. The cool air nipped her nose and pinched her cheeks.
Scattered branches and twigs littered the backyard. Multi-hued leaves blanketed the fading grass. Two squirrels raced across a heavy oak branch that cleaved the section of roof over her bedroom.
Now what?
She pulled her head inside and slammed the window. If she were home, she’d call Paul, Rita’s husband and her grounds-keeper/maintenance man. But she wasn’t home. She was stuck in Shelby Lake. And she had no idea who Mom used for repairs. Maybe Granddad could help.
