Lakeside Reunion

by Lisa Jordan

  Sweat slicked his brow as she bent over the wound. From the pain? Or his near miss with death? The line blurred somewhere between.

  Maybe.

  If Stephen hadn’t been alert, Kirk Green’s knife may have ended up in his heart instead of slicing his thigh.

  Roxanne laid a hand on his arm. “Listen, I’m really sorry about that family. We’ve both seen our fair share of junk. You’ve had a rough night. I get it, but don’t take it out on me. I’ve been here since 7:00 p.m. yesterday.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. I’m on your side, pal. I hope that jerk gets everything he deserves. As for the needle thing, that dog bite was so long ago. Shouldn’t you be over your fear of shots by now?”

  “I said I hated them. I’m not afraid of them.” His stomach churned.

  “Then stop being a baby because according to your records, your tetanus is out of date.” Roxanne cleaned the skin around the wound with dampened gauze. She wrapped up the soiled pads, peeled off her gloves and dropped everything in the red hazardous-waste bin.

  “What happened to a nurse’s compassion?”

  “What happened to the tough cop?” She scribbled on a notepad and shoved it in the pocket of her pink scrubs.

  “I’m going to tell your mom.”

  “Go ahead, tattletale. I’ll tell her not to invite you to Thanksgiving.”

  “Yeah, well, she loves me, so I’ll be there. And I may have a guest.”

  Roxanne raised an eyebrow. A slow smile skimmed her face. “Oh, yeah, who?”

  “Lindsey.” Her name slid out barely a whisper. If he said it any louder, he was afraid somehow, someway it would jinx what they had. Not that he believed in jinxes or anything, but he didn’t want anything to jeopardize their relationship. Not when he finally had her back in his arms. For good this time.

  “Seriously? So you two are back together?”

  “I asked her to marry me, Rox.”

  “Really? Don’t you think it’s a little soon?” Roxanne crossed her arms over her chest. A flicker of concern flashed across her face.

  Stephen rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve known each other for years. And we’ve been given a second chance. Why waste it?”

  “What did she say?”

  “She’s giving me her answer at breakfast.” He tried to stand and nearly passed out when a wave of dizziness crashed over him. “Oh, man, breakfast. I’m late! I need to call her.”

  Roxanne flattened a palm against his chest and pushed him back against the bed. “I’m sure she’ll understand. Get back on the bed.”

  “No, not Lindsey. Not about breakfast.” He glanced at the clock. He was so late. Where was his cell phone? Maybe he could call.

  “You can’t do anything about it until Dr. Warren comes in to stitch that gash. I’ll see how long she’s going to be.” She closed the curtain behind her as she returned to the nurses’ station, leaving Stephen to stare at the ceiling and listen to the seconds tick away.

  An hour later, Stephen eased himself into his recliner. His newly stitched thigh throbbed, but not as much as the jab in the arm. Man, the tetanus shot burned more than the stitches. Hopefully the painkillers would kick in soon. He came home in a pair of hospital scrubs, but changed into gray sweats that had seen better days but were much more comfortable.

  Chief Laughton stopped by the hospital to check on him and gave him the rest of the day off. Told him not to worry about coming in tomorrow if he wasn’t up to it. He’d be on desk duty until the stitches came out. Oh, joy.

  He reached for the phone and dialed Lindsey’s number. Again. But it went straight to voice mail. Again. He sent a text asking her to call him. He tried her mother’s house, but when the machine picked up, he ended the call without leaving a message. With the other three he already left, she was sure to know he tried to get in touch with her. Why wouldn’t she answer her phone?

  An uneasy feeling simmered in the pit of his stomach.

  When Melissa showed up at the hospital to drive him home and told him about her conversation with Lindsey, Stephen forced himself not to strangle his sister. She had no right. He wanted to be the one to tell her—after he had been released from the hospital so she would see there was nothing to worry about.

  The doorbell rang. Stephen groaned and hauled himself out of the chair. He limped to the door and pulled it open.

  Lindsey stood on the porch. Red cheeks, windblown hair, belted plaid coat that accentuated her waist—she looked like a million bucks. Seeing her was better than any drug. The throbbing in his thigh lessened.

  He reached out to take her hand. “Hey, you. I just tried calling you again.”

  She stepped back and tucked her hands in her coat pockets. “I got your text.”

  He looked over her shoulder. “Where’s your car?”

  “I walked. I’ve been walking.” Lindsey tapped the toe of her shoe against the welcome mat.

  She looked at her feet, over his shoulder, at the leaves skipping across the porch—every place except at him. An emotion he couldn’t quite describe flashed across her face.

  He wrapped his arms around her, but he might as well have been hugging a fence post for all the response he got. He leaned down to kiss her, but she turned her cheek.

  “Come in.” He pushed the door open wider and stepped aside.

  She hesitated and then stepped over the threshold. She smelled of sunshine and fresh air.

  “Would you like something to drink? Tea?”

  “No, thanks. I can’t stay long.”

  “Well, at least come into the living room where it’s warm. I have a fire going.”

  She kicked off her shoes and headed for the living room. Lindsey rubbed her hands together and opened her palms to the fire. Her hair curtained her face. “Today would have been my parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

  “I’m sorry.” He tucked her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. He caressed her jaw with his thumb.

  “Instead of spending the day locked in her room as she’s done in the past, Mom and Max shopped for a wedding cake. Mom always said Dad was one of a kind. Now she has Max.”

  The pain on her face slit him in the chest. “Your dad was one of a kind. Max is a blessing, not a replacement.”

  “I know. I admired my parents’ marriage. I wanted to marry that one-of-a-kind person. And I found him. You, Stephen, were the one I wanted to marry—the one I wanted to share breakfast with. I loved you with my whole heart.” She turned away from the fireplace and faced him. Tears pooled in her eyes, her voice dropping to a whisper.

  “Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen a new side of you. You’re an amazing dad to Tyler. And the way you care for your family, my mended heart didn’t stand a chance. I saw Mom’s newfound happiness and wondered if I’d get my second chance. Last night when you proposed, I was elated. And scared. What if you broke my heart again? How could I handle that again?”

  Stephen thumbed away a stray tear on her cheek. He cupped her face with both hands and looked into her eyes. “Lindsey, I love you. I promise I will never intentionally hurt you again.”

  She gripped his wrists and pulled his hands away. “I know. And that makes this all the harder.”

  His heart stuttered. “Makes what harder?”

  She closed her eyes and covered her mouth. Her shoulders shuddered.

  He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his cheek against her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

  Lindsey twisted out of his embrace. She backed up until she bumped the edge of the couch. “I’m sorry, Stephen, but I can’t marry you.”

  The air escaped his lungs as if someone had headbutted him in the stomach. Pain rippled through his system, threatening to drop him to his knees. He clutched the edge of the mantel for support. “Why?”

  She sat on the couch and hugged one of the throw pillows. “When you didn’t show up for breakfast, it was like déjà vu.”


  “Honey, it was a small gash.” He took a tentative step toward her, but her stiffened body warned “Do not approach.”

  “This time. What if that creep had stabbed your heart?”

  “But he didn’t. Other than a few stitches, I’m fine.”

  She tossed the pillow back on the couch and jumped to her feet. She paced, punctuating the air with her arms. “I’m not! I can’t wonder each morning that I kiss you goodbye if it will be the last time I see you. I can’t worry if you’re ten minutes late and think the worst has happened. Stephen, I’m sorry, but unless you’re willing to give up your badge, I can’t marry you.”

  He grabbed her elbow and forced her to face him. “An ultimatum, Lindsey? Not cool. Being a cop is who I am.”

  A wild look crashed over her face. She clutched his arm. “Which is why I can’t marry you. Don’t you see? I can’t take the chance of losing you, too.”

  “Sounds like you’re losing me already.” Blood pulsed through his veins. He clenched and unclenched his hands into fists. Bile burned his throat. He forced his voice to remain calm. “Come on, Linds. Be reasonable. Please.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded so small, as if she was talking from some faraway place. Or maybe the sound of his heart shattering drowned out her words.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms, beg and plead until he wore her down. Not one to quit, he wasn’t ready to give up so quickly, especially knowing she loved him. But she was asking too much. Give up his badge? Impossible.

  The hard set of her chin and look of determination on her face made Stephen realize no matter how much he begged, she wouldn’t crack. He closed his eyes against a sudden rush of moisture and spoke through clenched teeth. “Be sure of your answer because I will not propose a third time.”

  “Goodbye, Stephen.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sawdust and grime coated Stephen’s arms. His thigh burned. The painkillers wore off about an hour ago. But that was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. Maybe he deserved the pain. He should have tried harder to keep her from leaving.

  “Figured I’d find you here.”

  Stephen glanced over his shoulder through the haze of dust to find Oliver in uniform filling the garage doorway. He shut off the belt sander and shoved his safety glasses on top of his head. “What do you want, Kendall?”

  Oliver pushed away from the door and crossed to the workbench.

  “Shouldn’t you be resting? The doctor said to keep weight off your leg.”

  “Great. Just what I need, another mother.” Stephen glared at his friend. The last thing he wanted was company. Seeing Kendall in uniform poured salt in his wound—a perfect reminder that Stephen screwed up. Not only with Green, but with Lindsey, too.

  He wiped his damp hands on his dusty jeans and set his glasses back in place. Flicking on the switch, he gripped the sander and ran it over the pencil squiggles he drew next to the wood nosing along the edge of the bookcase. Once the pencil marks disappeared, sanding would be complete. If he sanded too deep, he’d take the veneer finish off the plywood.

  Oliver yanked on the power cord, bringing the whining sander to a halt.

  “Dude, not cool.” Stephen flicked the switch to Off and tossed his glasses on the workbench. Using the hem of his T-shirt, he wiped the dust off his bottle of warm soda and guzzled the rest.

  “Hey, man. We need to talk. I know you’ve had a rough day, but I’ve got some news that might cheer you up.”

  Stephen twisted the cap on the empty bottle and pitched it into the recycling barrel. “Spill it.”

  “They got him.” Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, a satisfied smile splitting his face.

  “Who?”

  “Hank Earle.”

  Stephen braced his hands on the table, locking his elbows. After all that time, they finally caught him. “When? Where?”

  “They found him out in Colorado. He rolled some dude, knifed him and assumed his identity. Apparently he robbed a liquor store again. The local police lifted a partial print, but it was enough to identify him. They snagged his sorry behind and put him in custody. He’s being extradited back here to stand trial.”

  Finally.

  “So it’s over. That’s great, man. Best news I’ve heard all day.” Stephen sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  Oliver slid the cordless phone across the workbench to Stephen. “Answer your phone and you would have known. The chief tried to call several times.”

  “About Earle?”

  “That and the LT results are in.”

  Stephen’s nerve endings stood at attention. “And?”

  “You’ll need to hear that from the chief, but something tells me you’ll be needing to send your uniform shirts to the tailor.” Kendall clapped his back. “Congrats, man. You’re getting everything you’ve worked hard for.”

  “Not everything.” He grabbed a rag and wiped the dust from the bookcase.

  “Have you called her?” Oliver raised an eyebrow and shot him a challenging look.

  He tossed the rag on the table. “What’s the point? I’m not going to beg. If she doesn’t want to be with me, I can’t force her.”

  “So you’re letting her walk away. Just like that.”

  “She didn’t leave me much choice.”

  Oliver leaned against the table, apparently in no hurry to leave. “Life is all about choices. You know that as well as I do.”

  Stephen tossed up his hands. “So what am I supposed to? Throw my badge on Laughton’s desk and walk away? Be something I’m not for the rest of my life? I have Ty to think about. A mortgage. I worked hard to get where I am today.”

  Oliver scoffed. “She’s scared. Can you blame her?”

  “That’s her problem. Nothing I can do to help that.”

  “Can’t or won’t? Like I said, life is all about choices. You need to decide what you want more—the job or Lindsey.” Oliver pushed away from the bench. “That badge won’t keep you warm at night.”

  Stephen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “If Amy asked you to give it up, you’d do it?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  His head snapped up. “Why?”

  Oliver shrugged, as if the question was a no-brainer. “I love her. Who would you give up your badge for? Ty? God?”

  “He wouldn’t ask that of me.” Stephen thrust his hands in the front pockets of his worn jeans, wincing when the material tightened against his wound.

  “Don’t be so sure. He tested Abraham, asking him to sacrifice his son Isaac. Once He saw Abraham’s willful obedience, God provided a ram to be used instead of his son. But here’s the kicker—Abraham loved God so much that he was willing to obey God by killing his own son. God loved us—prideful, sinful human—so much that He sacrificed His own Son for our sins.”

  “I don’t need a Bible lesson.”

  “Maybe you need to decide why you cling to that badge, that cold piece of metal. It’s not who you are. Your past sins have been forgiven. You need to forgive yourself and get over it. We’ve all sinned. Don’t let your past stand in the way of your future. What are you willing to give up to keep Lindsey?” Without another word, Oliver turned on his heel and strode out the door.

  Stephen limped over to the outlet and plugged in the sander cord. Returning to the workbench, he picked up the sander, turned it on and hit it against the wood. He ground away the pencil marks, trying to drown out Oliver’s words.

  Hank Earle had been caught. About time. He deserved to pay for what he had done. But Stephen wasn’t the one who brought him in. No, he failed at keeping the promise he made years ago to catch the guy.

  He gripped the sander until his arm muscles quivered. Sweat soaked his chest. Faint pencil marks shadowed the wood. He could stop and the edging would be flush. But he kept sanding, belt against the wood to erase every last mark for a perfectly smooth finish. He shifted from one foot to the other for better balance.

  Pain slammed through hi
s thigh, nearly dropping him to his knees. The sander shifted, squealing against the wood, gouging the surface.

  Stephen shut off the sander and tossed it on the table. He worked so hard to make the bookcase look perfect—something Ty would be proud of. And look at what he did—he ruined it. He could patch the gouge, but it wouldn’t be the same. The marred finish would show through the stain.

  He ran his hand over the wood, assessing the damage. A splinter speared his thumb. Pain shot through his hand. He clenched his teeth and swallowed words that seared the tip of his tongue.

  He slid open a drawer in his rolling tool chest and pulled out a small pocketknife given to him by his grandfather when he was twelve. He used it to dig out the splinter and then squeezed his thumb to make sure there weren’t any remaining bits of wood hiding beneath his skin. A drop of blood bubbled from the wound and ran down his finger. He grabbed the rag he used to remove dust from the bookcase and wiped off his thumb.

  Stephen stared at the blood staining the dirty rag. As dirty as his heart. His eyes shot to the gouge in the wood. Oliver’s words about his sins being forgiven echoed in his head. His heart pounded. He shook his head. No, it wasn’t possible.

  A verse from Isaiah filtered through his head.

  Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.

  Was he the one holding his sin close to his vest, feeding on it to be a person of honor? Is that what God would have wanted him to do?

  His breathing racing, Stephen braced his back against the workbench and slid to the floor. He pulled up his knees, wincing from the heat in his thigh. His stomach rolled. He rested his elbows on his knees and raked his hands through his hair.

  A lump clogged his throat. He swallowed it. Tears warmed his eyes. He blinked them back. He was a piece of work. He tried so hard and failed. Failed to keep his promise to Lindsey. Not only to find her father’s killer, but the promise not to hurt her again.