by Mary Campisi
The tears started up again, clogged her speech. “That’s not true. I cared about you. I care about you,” she corrected.
“Sure you do.” Pete rubbed his jaw, sighed. “You care so much you forgot to tell me you were going to destroy people I care about, including my father.”
“I didn’t know he was your father, and I didn’t know you were from Magdalena…not at first.” Her words spilled over him, begged him to understand.
“You had a good idea I wasn’t just a stranger to the Desantros, though, didn’t you?”
“The truth? I was more interested in getting to know you and the more I learned, the more I wanted to mean something to you.”
Pete tried to spot the lies in those words. Damn, but he couldn’t see them. That didn’t mean they weren’t there. He had to protect himself, even if it meant he’d be the one telling the lies. “You wanted to mean something to me, huh?” Those hazel eyes glistened with fresh tears as she nodded. He opened his mouth, let the lies spill. It was the only way to save himself from a world of misery. “We were pretending, remember? None of what happened in the cabin was real. We needed a break and a little physical companionship, and that’s exactly what we got.” He clenched and unclenched his fist, forced out the rest while he still had the guts to do it. “I don’t know about you, but the touchy-feely stuff I unloaded on you? That was for your benefit because women like a man who’s got feelings.”
“You...you made it all up? You’re not broke, your girlfriend didn’t dump you…you didn’t lose your house and cars…”
It hurt to smile, but he made those damn lips freeze in place. How else could he convince her to believe his lies? This was about self-preservation and survival—his. Pete shrugged as if the answers didn’t matter. She stared at him so long he thought any second she’d lunge at him, go for his eyes, his face, maybe his groin. But she didn’t. Elissa, whose last name he didn’t know, swiped her cheeks one last time, straightened her shoulders, turned, and walked toward the house, taking any hope of a second chance and happiness with her.
When Nate got the phone call from Jack saying he needed to see him right away, he thought it had to do with the old guy’s health. Or his wife’s. Dolly Finnegan battled extra pounds and rising blood sugar, but she refused to give up the chocolate eclairs from the bakery. Or the bacon. Jack tried to help, but he had no patience for those who refused to do what they needed to; he usually ended up in a shouting match with Dolly, which elevated his blood pressure and gave him a headache.
The Finnegans had been married a lot of years, raised five children, and made a vow early on never to go to bed mad. According to Dolly, they’d kept that vow, but when Jack called today, he’d sounded on edge and jittery, like he was about to explode.
Nate hoped it wasn’t his health or Dolly’s. Or something to do with Pete.
Pete Finnegan was a wild card. They’d all heard about the money he’d made in real estate, the houses, the cars, the travel. The women. And then they’d heard he’d lost it all. Some said it was gambling. Others said a woman took it. Still others said it was bad luck and a worse market. Who could tell?
Nate didn’t care. He didn’t even care if the guy once owned suits that cost more than some of Nate’s tools. Not his business. Not anybody’s business. He scratched his jaw, sighed. Tell that to the residents of Magdalena. They’d be sniffing around and making up tales that belonged on television or in the tabloids. Pete should be back in town in a few days, and then the cabin could go up for sale, and Christine could put one more sad memory behind her.
They’d had a few “lively” discussions about her father’s letters, and Christine had agreed that his mother and Lily should receive theirs. Harry’s letter was the problem. How could Christine think any good could come from letting the guy read it? Harry was soft and kind, good-natured and a friend to kids and animals. It would destroy him, and Nate was not going to watch that happen. One way or another, that letter was getting burned or shredded.
Harry would never know it existed. Nate just needed a little more time to persuade his wife that this was the right decision. He tossed the pencil on his desk, rubbed his eyes, yawned. The baby had been up most of the night with an earache and that meant no sleep for anybody. The joys of family life. Another yawn. He wouldn’t trade it for anything…
“Am I disturbing your nap?”
Nate looked up, squinted at his old friend. “Hey, Jack. Come on in.” Jack Finnegan removed his ball cap, closed the office door, and sat in one of the chairs opposite Nate’s desk. His weather-beaten face looked pale beneath the perpetual tan, his cheeks crisscrossed with lines of worry. Damn, but Nate bet this had to do with Dolly. “What’s going on?”
Jack shook his head, his blue eyes settling on Nate. “I’m ashamed of what I’m about to tell you, Nate. Ashamed it happened in the first place, but more ashamed I didn’t own up to it a long time ago.” There was a pause, followed by two throat clearings, and then silence.
Nate waited a few more seconds before he spoke. “You’re going to have to help me out here because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jack toyed with the ball cap in his hands, dragged his gaze to Nate’s. “There’s no fancy way to say it, except to say it and tell you I’m real sorry.” One more throat clearing. “I take it you didn’t get a letter from somebody today that had to do with your dead mother-in-law?”
That got his attention. Nate leaned forward, hands flat on the top of the desk. “No, I didn’t get any letter. Why? Who’s she trying to blackmail now?” How the hell could a dead woman still be trying to destroy families? And what did Jack have to do with it?
“She’s after me this time.” He paused, bit his lower lip. “That’s not true. She’s still after you, but she’s going to use me to do it. If you didn’t get the letter yet, I hear it’s on its way.”
“And how do you know this?”
“Sources. Pete called to warn me. How he found out about this whole mess is a mystery, but I think there’s a woman involved somewhere along the way. And I think she’s the one that’s got something to do with the letter. That’s all I know.”
Nate rubbed his jaw, considered what Jack had just told him. How many people knew about Gloria Blacksworth’s notebook? Of those who knew, how many were women? The only one he could think of was the caregiver Gloria hired before she died. A nursing student, completely naïve to her employer’s manipulative ways. “I might know who that is.”
“Then you know more than me. Pete never was much of a talker when it came to his female companions. Don’t guess he’s gotten much better with age, but he told me enough to warn me.”
“Warn you the letter’s coming?”
“Yup. It’s coming and it’s meant to cause a world of problems between us.” Jack shook his head, heaved a big sigh. “I sure wish I didn’t have to give this speech, but I should have done it twenty-nine years ago.”
“Twenty-nine years? What the hell are you talking about?” Did this have to do with Nate’s father? Had Nick Desantro been involved with some underhanded dealings in the business and Jack found out once the old man died? Of course, Jack would keep it from Nate, try to shoulder the knowledge to protect other people. That’s the kind of man Jack Finnegan was: trustworthy, honorable. A good friend.
“I took three thousand dollars from ND Manufacturing.”
“Come again?” Had he just said he took money from the company?
The older man’s shoulders slumped like that money was weighing him down and when he spoke, his voice turned brittle and cracked. “I had a family predicament and I needed the money. With five mouths to feed, me and Dolly struggled to keep the kids in coats and sneakers. There was no way I could come up with that kind of cash.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, cleared his throat. “But I couldn’t stand by and watch a good person destroyed because of ignorance and trusting the wrong person. I paid it all back, with interest. It took me three years to do it, and Dolly never knew.”
His blue gaze narrowed. “And she’s never gonna know.”
Nate studied the man who’d served as a better role model than his own father. All these years together and he’d never guessed there was a giant lie between them. “What kind of problem could make you take money?” He paused, finished with the most painful part, “From me?” Jack Finnegan was the kind of guy who returned money when a cashier messed up in his favor. Stealing—and that’s what taking three thousand dollars from ND Manufacturing was—did not fit Jack Finnegan’s personality or history. It wasn’t who the man was…and yet he’d done it. What did that say about what a person would do in a desperate situation?
There was only one question left to ask.
“What was so damn urgent that you had to steal from the company?”
Jack shook his head, hands clutching the ball cap he wore every day so hard the cap was half its size. “I can’t say, Nate. I’m sorry. It would…” He cleared his throat, his eyes bright. “It would destroy the person in question and I can’t do that. I kept my mouth shut all these years, didn’t even tell Dolly and there’s nothing she doesn’t know about me.” The blueness in those eyes turned bluer. “But not this.”
“You’re putting me in a terrible position. You just told me you stole from the company, and you won’t even give me details to defend your actions? What am I supposed to do with that, Jack? Huh? Am I supposed to pretend this never happened? Damn it, I wish you’d never told me.” There weren’t more than a handful of people Nate trusted and Jack was one of them. Or had been. Could he still trust the man? His gut told him he could, but the hurt in him wondered.
The man who’d helped him through more than one bad time stood, cleared his throat. “Like I said, I should have told you years ago, but I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you look at me like you’re doing now. Disgusted. Disappointed.” He shrugged, clutched that damn cap harder. “But I was not gonna let that letter arrive and take you by surprise. I couldn’t do that.”
“Appreciate it.” Nate eased back in his chair, waited for Jack to continue.
“I expect you’re gonna do what you gotta do, and I’m fine by that. All I ask is that you tell the guys I left to spend more time fishing.” He worked up an almost smile. “They’ll believe that.”
“What do you mean? You’re quitting?”
The almost smile inched up. “I always thought I’d end up like your old man, taking my last breath on the shop floor. I love this place, Nate. Had a lot of good times here; some bad ones, too, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But I think I’ll leave now, save you having to give me the ax.” He plunked the ND Manufacturing ball cap on his head, nodded. “If you want, I’ll hang around until you get a new foreman in place. There’s some good men on the floor that would do you proud.” Jack extended a hand across the desk, tears rimming his eyes. “It’s been a real pleasure, Nate. A real pleasure. I couldn’t be prouder of you than if you were one of my own.”
Nate ignored the other man’s extended hand, pushed back his chair and made his way to the other side of the desk. “Can’t you tell me anything about why you did what you did?”
Jack shook his head. “It’s not about me or saving my hide. It’s about protecting a person from a past that won’t let go. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
The man left him with two choices. Nate could accept the resignation and maybe he’d eventually convince himself that Jack Finnegan wasn’t as honest or trustworthy as he’d once thought. Or, he could accept the man’s refusal to divulge the reason for taking the money and move on. Deep down, he knew Jack wasn’t a thief, knew he could be trusted, and that he cared about Nate. You had to respect a man who would give up the job he loved and risk the respect of a friend to protect someone in need. “So, my choice is to let this incident go or let you go?”
Jack eased his outstretched hand to his side “Don’t see it as much of a choice. You’ve always been about honor and doing right.”
“Yeah, I have been, haven’t I?” He narrowed his gaze on his friend. “And I’m going to trust my gut and stick with that.”
“I expected as much.”
This time, it was Nate who held out his hand. “I guess I’ll never understand what you did, but I understand why you did it. You helped a family member in trouble. That’s doing the right thing. That’s showing honor.” He gripped Jack’s hand with both of his. “I need you here, being my eyes and ears, keeping me on track. You know me almost as well as Christine.”
The old man shrugged, worked up a smile. “Don’t think I like the sound of that.”
Nate grinned. “Take the compliment and shut up, okay?”
Jack’s smile faded, his voice cracked. “You sure about this? I’m giving you a way out. No hard feelings.”
If his wife had taught him one thing, it was that every relationship suffered bumps and bruises along the way. That’s what made them stronger, gave them the calluses to withstand the rocky paths that cropped up now and again. Jack Finnegan was worth a callus or two. “I’m sure. When the letter arrives, I’ll burn it, and we’ll leave what happened twenty-nine years ago where it belongs—in the past.”
7
Elissa would always wonder when she realized Mrs. Blacksworth wasn’t the wounded soul she’d once thought she was, or how the woman had manipulated her to carry out deeds that were more about vengeance than exposing wrongdoing and helping victims.
Pete Finnegan was gone. He’d packed up the truck, done a final walk-through of the cabin, made sure his punch list was complete, and then he’d given her a brief nod and left. No words, no lingering gazes.
Nothing.
This loss was more painful than finding out about Zachary. She’d shown Pete who she really was, and she’d believed he’d done the same. Sure, they’d called it pretending, but that wasn’t anything more than a safe way to let the other person see the scars and the hurts. It was a way to gain acceptance without judgment, and maybe even love. She would not believe their time together meant nothing to him, and she refused to accept that he’d lied to her about his life in California.
But how would she ever know? She’d ruined their chance. What might have happened if she’d told him she knew Nate and Christine Desantro, knew about Magdalena, and had a part in causing pain to some of the residents? Would she have realized her employer’s motives sooner? Would Pete have judged her, and if he had, would he have forgiven her?
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
She’d lived her whole life according to right and wrong, well-crafted plans and life timelines, and yet, she’d never been unhappier. The only moments of true, pure happiness had been the time spent in the cabin with Pete.
And she’d ruined it. All of it. Her chest ached with the loss she’d brought on with her naïveté. She made her way to the bedroom, lay on Pete’s pillow, inhaled his scent. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend he was in the kitchen, making breakfast as he’d done these past several days. The smell of coffee would reach her any second, then the aroma of cinnamon and apples as he heated them for her oatmeal and topped it with walnuts. Soon, he’d carry a tray into the bedroom, humming under his breath. And then he’d kiss her temple…whisper in her ear…
Elissa blinked her eyes open, swiped at her cheeks.
She could pretend all she wanted because Pete was gone. Gone from the cabin, gone from her life. But the memory of him? That would never disappear. Life would be different now. No more five-year plans or timelines, no more following someone else’s blueprint or definition of happiness.
If the time in the cabin had taught her one lesson, it was that life could and should be lived on her own terms, no matter the outcome. Tomorrow, she’d close up the place and head back to Chicago. Maybe she’d stop along the way, look for a few small towns to spend the night. What was the rush? Her parents didn’t expect her for another week and she wasn’t due back at work for another ten days—just in time to hand in her resignation. People would think she was craz
y to quit a nursing job that paid so well, but it wasn’t about the money. Mrs. Blacksworth had gifted her a generous sum, but even if she hadn’t, Elissa would still leave. Maybe it was the hospital setting she didn’t like…or maybe it was Chicago…
She didn’t know, not yet, but she’d explore the possibilities until she found a place and a job that brought her joy.
“Dad says he loves me more than three scoops of cherry chip ice cream.” Giggle giggle. “That’s his very favorite.” Lily’s eyes sparkled as she read the lines from the letter her father had written her. “He loves me more than snow angels on a starry night.” Her voice drifted. “He’s an angel now,” she whispered, glancing at Christine, who sat next to her. “A real one, not just a snow one. And he can see everything we’re doing.” She pointed toward the ceiling, nodded. “He watches over all of us.”
Christine nodded, whispered back, “Yes, he does.”
“Anna and Joy, too, even though he never met them when he was on earth.”
“Yes” Christine said, her voice cracking, “them, too.”
Nate watched his sister discuss angels as though she believed everyone knew they existed and it was no big deal to carry on conversations with them. Only Lily. He and Christine delivered the letters to his mother and Lily this afternoon while Lucy Benito babysat the girls. They’d agreed the less distractions, the better. When Christine handed his mother her letter, she’d clutched it to her chest, let out a whimper, and disappeared into the bedroom.
Yeah, he got how she’d want to be alone.
“Dad loves me more than ten flannel shirts!” Lily looked at Nate, brows pulled together. “Do you love Christine more than ten flannel shirts?”
That sounded like a Lily question. He grinned and slid a glance at his wife. “Ten? That’s a lot.” He rubbed his jaw, pretended to consider his answer.
“Come on, Nate.” Lily leaned toward him. “Tell her.”
