by Mary Manners
Her eyes looked glassy and just a little damp. She sniffled.
Cade’s gut clenched. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She brushed tears from her cheeks. I’m just…having a moment.”
“Not buying it.” He went to her. He already had a pretty good inkling of what was eating at her, but he wanted—he needed—to hear her voice it. “Something’s up. Spill, sweetheart.”
“That’s just it. I’m not your sweetheart. But you keep coming around, being all nice and reasonable and…helpful. Jayden thinks you’re the coolest thing since sliced bread. He likes you.”
“And this is a problem?” Cade’s heart pounded. This was the moment of reckoning. He’d played it cool, but things were about to go up in flames. He just hoped the wildfire wasn’t a complete slash and burn.
“Yes. Because when you’re done here you’ll just leave again, and you’ll break his heart.”
“His heart…or yours?”
“Both of ours.” She lowered her gaze. “There, does that make you feel better?”
“Hardly.” He leaned against a chair back. “Man, I must have some hidden powers to manage that. Come around, break hearts. Snap, just like that.”
“Don’t make a joke of it.” Brooke grabbed a napkin and mopped moisture from her eyes. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” He reached for her hand, and when she didn’t pull away he tugged her gently to her feet to face him. “You know, I’m not the one who broke it off, Brooke.”
“You would have, given the time. I just beat you to it.”
“How do you know it would have gone that way?”
“You have a wandering spirit, Cade.” She worried her lower lip. “You said so yourself. I would have never been enough for you.”
“If that was the case, it was only due to the fact that I was young and foolish.”
“So was I. Young and naïve…trusting.” She nodded stiffly. “I thought you loved me enough to…give me—give us— forever.
“I did love you, sweetheart. I still do.” He stroked his thumb along her cheek. “But we’ll never know what might have been…all those years.”
“You’re right. We won’t.” She shook her head as her tears spilled over. “Because there’s no going back. And I wouldn’t even if I could.”
“Fool yourself all you want, Brooke, but I don’t believe you.” He captured a tear. “You’re crying. That says it all.”
“No it doesn’t.” She pressed a fist to her mouth to staunch a sob. Her words were muffled. “There are things about me you don’t know. Things no one knows.”
“Give me time and I’ll figure them out.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Brooke drew a deep sigh. “But not now. Jayden…he’s waiting for you.”
4
Early Saturday morning Brooklyn turned into a winding blacktopped drive and steered the car toward the turn-of the century farmhouse. All her life she’d known this home as the McMahan Place. The whole town knew it as such.
Until this morning, when she overheard Mrs. Sullivan down at the corner market refer to it as the Lockridge Place.
The town was buzzing beneath Cade’s return. Their shining star…the one who’d Made. It. Big. Everywhere Brooke went, it was Cade this and Cade that. The chatter was nails on a chalkboard.
Jayden would be out of school for summer break soon, and he’d already outlined all the things he and Cade planned to do together in his free time. Like working on this house. Apparently Cade had offered Jayden a summer job doing assorted tasks around the Lockridge Place. The pair had hit it off in stellar fashion, and there was no putting on the breaks.
It must be in the DNA—Cade’s DNA.
Which was why she’d ventured here this morning. She had things to say, and Cade would just have to listen. Like it or not, it was time to face the music.
Brooke’s thoughts traveled back to the single night they’d spent together—the night of Jayden’s conception. She wasn’t sorry it had happened, because she couldn’t imagine her life without her son. But she regretted the aftermath—the way things had ended with Cade. She’d loved him with her whole heart.
But she’d learned the hard way that sometimes love just wasn’t enough and that she shouldn’t have put the proverbial cart before the horse. God ordered things a certain way for a reason. Hind sight is twenty-twenty and all those similar clichés that seemed to ring true in her life these days.
Elm trees lined the sweeping drive, sheltering her from the warm late-spring sun. Brooke propped her sunglasses atop her head and peered through the bug-splattered windshield to the structure beyond. The wrap-around front porch sagged at the steps, which were missing the right handrail. A single Adirondack chair sat off to the side along with a small wrought iron table topped by a Tennessee-orange plastic cup. Shutters winked at her from smudged windows, while paint that had once been white but now took on the hue of dingy dishwater peeled like a bad sunburn.
Yeah, the place needed work, but it still carried an air of charm buried deep inside. If anyone could unearth it, Cade was the one. When they were younger, he’d done all sorts of home repair projects with his dad. Anytime Cade wasn’t strumming out a song on his guitar, Brooke could find him in the workshop off the family’s modest rancher. Cade’s mom had always joked that the place was one part house and three parts workshop. She’d had a sweet sense of humor, one that saw the good in everything, despite the circumstances. She remained one of Brooke’s favorite people, though both she and Cade’s dad had passed on a decade and a half ago.
Brooklyn parked at the top of the drive, beneath the shade of a ginormous weeping willow. When she opened the driver’s door, the staccato echo of a hammer greeted her. The scents of lilacs and fresh-mown grass filled the air as she made her way up the walk.
She rounded a corner along the side of the house and came face-to-face with a bear. OK, technically not a bear but a dog—a really, really big and shaggy dog. He barked once, twice, and then sat at her feet.
“Well, if Cade trained you to be a guard dog, he’s failed miserably.” The dog’s shoulders came to her waist, his jowls to her chest. She reached out to pat his snowy white head. “Nice boy. Good doggie. Let’s be friends, OK?”
His tail wagged with the speed of a box fan set to high as she found the sweet spot behind his ear and scratched.
“Good…perfect.” She smiled and her blood pressure dropped considerably. “What are you, a cross of sheep dog and St. Bernard? Yeah, that’s it. Has to be. What’s your name?”
He cocked his head to the side and barked again.
“Well, I don’t speak doggie, so we’ll just have to find the boss and get the four-one-one from him.”
She started off again, patting her thigh for him to join her. Together, they followed the hammer thwaks around back.
Brooke stopped dead in her tracks. Oh, my.
Cade was shirtless, and sweat glistened from the ripped muscles of his back as he had his way with a pile of decking planks.
She stared for a moment—or two—remembering a time when being with him made her giddy. She’d been so in love…so mesmerized by his sassy-sweet charm and good looks.
By his heart.
Because at one time, long ago, he’d actually had a heart. But somewhere along his quest for fame and fortune, he’d lost his sense of tenderness.
And he’d lost her, as well.
“Cade.” She took a step toward him. He startled, the hammer mid-swing, and missed his mark. The head landed squarely on his thumb.
“Son of a biscuit.” He grabbed the digit and whirled around to face her. “Good grief, Brooke. What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”
“Turnabout is fair play. Remember the pizza aisle?”
“How could I forget?”
“Not easy.” She went to him. “But I’m sorry, anyway. Let me take a look at that. You whacked it pretty hard.”
“It might be broken.” He eyed her wit
h great caution before sweeping his gaze to the bear-dog. He waggled an uninjured finger. “And you, Tiny, are supposed to be guarding the house, not welcoming strangers in. You might have offered a heads-up.”
“Tiny?” Brook laughed. “Really? He’s anything but.”
“I know. But I adopted him from the shelter. That was the name on his card. I figured it would confuse him to change it, so…Tiny it is.”
“Wow, OK. That makes sense. He’s a cutie.”
“He’s a hot mess, but loyal as all get out. I hit the jackpot on adoption day.”
“I’ll say. Well, I hope your thumb’s not too badly injured. Jayden would never forgive me for incapacitating his favorite guitar-rockin’ partner in crime.” She knelt beside Cade, and gently took his hand in hers. His palm dwarfed hers and the thumb was already turning a deep shade of purple. “Can you bend it?”
He managed, barely. “I think a kiss would numb the pain.”
“And I think ice would better serve your needs.”
“Always the pragmatist.” He rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t hurt to employ both remedies. Strength in numbers and all that.”
“I beg to differ.” She shook her head firmly. “So an icepack it is.”
“Are you inviting yourself inside?”
“If that’s where you keep the frozen stuff.”
“It is.” He rose to his feet, bringing her with him. “Come on, then.”
Brooke wove her way around sawhorses, decking nails, and planks as she followed him inside. Tiny padded at her heels. “You’ve got a long road ahead here. The place needs…more than a little work.”
“One step at a time.”
“Uh huh.” The rear French doors opened to the kitchen, which had been thoroughly gutted. The only remaining items were a folding table and chairs set off to the side, near the far wall. A cooler sat in the center of the table, with a notebook alongside it. “Wow…did you detonate a bomb in here?”
“Hardly. The renovation crew demoed this yesterday. They’ll be back later this morning to start putting things together again. I have a plan.” He used his uninjured hand to flip open the notebook. “Take a look.”
“Ice first. I assume there’s some in that cooler?”
“You always were the brain of this pair.”
“Nice.” She opened the cooler and retrieved an ice pack, waggled it at him. “You must have planned ahead.”
“I did. I thought it would gain points as a little reverse psychology in the injury department, but I guess that theory tanked.”
“You could have lopped off your thumb with the circular saw instead of rapping it.”
“Good point. Or better yet, I could have avoided an injury altogether if you hadn’t sneaked up on me.”
“Touché.” She glanced around the room, careful to focus her attention on anything but the expanse of muscles corded along his chest…his sculpted shoulders. “I don’t suppose you have a…shirt lying around here.”
“You don’t like a little skin?”
On the contrary, she liked it a lot. Too much for her own good. “Shirt, please. Humor me.”
“On it.” He ducked into the next room and reappeared a moment later with a navy T-shirt. He shrugged into it and she read the logo, ‘I’d rather be playing guitar.’ “Better?”
“Yep, that about sums it up. Nice shirt.” She shook her head in exasperation. “Some things never change.”
He glanced down, scanned the words. “It’s a work shirt, Brooke.”
“Uh huh. Just don’t give Jayden any ideas.”
“I think he’ll figure things out soon enough on his own.”
“Cade, about that…” Brooke took his hand and rested it in hers as she applied the ice pack. “It’s why I came here today.”
“You had me wondering. What’s going on?”
“It’s about Jayden.” Brooke worried her lower lip as her heart did backflips along her ribs. “There are things you should know.”
“Jayden…yes.” Cade hesitated only a moment. “I might know more than you think.”
“How much more?”
“I might surprise you.” He grimaced against the ice pack on his hand, then settled.
“I told you I’m done with surprises.”
“Then I guess it’s time to clear the air…sing a different tune.” He used his uninjured hand to reach for hers. He held tight. “Jayden’s my son, isn’t he?”
Brooke nodded stiffly. “Yes.”
Cade shifted in the seat but didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he laced his fingers with hers. “When were you planning to tell me?”
“When the time was right. It’s just…never been right. You left. I thought I’d never see you again. You had your dreams, I had mine.” Tears gathered and stung. “I’m so sorry, Cade.”
“I’m sorry, too.” He paled as sweat beaded along his forehead. Putting the truth into words—voicing it—had rattled him. Brooklyn couldn’t blame him. She’d had fourteen years to come to terms with the idea. Cade had had only moments.
Brooke snatched a paper towel from the counter and swabbed perspiration from his face as she continued. “It’s just…Jayden doesn’t know.”
“I gathered as much. He talks about Joe sometimes during practice—at least when it’s just the two of us off to ourselves.”
“He does?” She was shocked. Though she’d tried, Brooke had failed to get him to open up to her.
“Yes. I think he’s carrying a lot of guilt about that day. He said they had an argument?”
“They did. And that’s just my point. I don’t think it’s a good idea to rock the boat right now. He’s been through so much with his dad—”
“I’m his dad. Don’t you think he has a right to know?”
“I don’t know what to think. This situation didn’t come with an instruction manual. I just don’t want to see Jayden hurt any more than he already has been.”
“And you think I’m going to do that?”
“With your track record, there’s a good chance.”
“What about your track record, Brooke? I didn’t get us into this mess on my own. It takes two to, you know, to—”
“You don’t need to remind me.” Her fingers trembled against his. “I’m perfectly aware of how it works.”
“Then what are we going to do about this? Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.” Brooke sighed. “But I’m open to suggestions.”
5
“I’m trying to understand how this happened, Brooke.” Cade wandered back onto the deck a few minutes later and sat along the edge, letting his legs dangle. He needed fresh air and the heat of the sun to cool this sudden chill in his heart. Thirteen years and a handful of months had passed without Jayden knowing the true identity of his father. “Tell me about Joe…about how you two came to be. Did he know about Jayden…about me?”
Brooklyn stood at his side, silent for the longest time. The creek beyond the yard prattled downstream, dancing and singing beneath the warm sunshine while bumblebees worked at pollinating knockout rose bushes in the flowerbeds to the side of the steps.
Finally, Brooke lowered herself onto the deck and crossed her legs as she settled in beside him. “Yes, Joe knew everything.”
Relief flooded through. At least Cade hadn’t been a secret. “Tell me…more.”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“I’m asking, aren’t I?”
“OK.” Brooke sighed heavily before diving in. “I met him at the bank, a couple of weeks after you left. I went in because my account got hacked. He helped me clear things up. He was a little bit older than me and so kind at a point in my life that I really needed a little kindness. He’d just been transferred here to Cedar Ridge, and we were both feeling sort of lonely. We got to talking and I offered to show him around. We spent a little time together, a dinner here and there…a ball game. He was steady and responsible…predictable, which suited me just fine.”
“Eve
rything I wasn’t, right?”
“Yes. At least that was the truth back then. Now…I’m not so sure.” She shrugged. “About six weeks into dating I realized I was…carrying Jayden. I broke down and confided in Joe. I thought he’d run, but instead he offered to marry me right there on the spot.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but we filed for the license and planned a quick ceremony at the courthouse the following week. We decided to keep the truth about Jayden to ourselves, and no one was ever the wiser. Jayden favors me in appearance, so there was never any question. In his heart, Joe was Jayden’s dad from the very beginning to his final breath. He never spoke of things any other way.”
“Did you love him?”
“Of course I loved him. He was…a really good man. He took care of me, and he doted on Jayden, too.”
“Yet they argued?”
“Oh, they had their differences, as you and I both did with our parents. It’s a rite of passage. But the day Joe died…well, there was just that once that was truly awful. Jayden wanted to go to a concert—your concert—with his friends, but Joe nixed the idea. He really couldn’t offer a good reason, one that sat well with Jayden. Only I understood that it must have hit too close to home.”
“I’m sorry, Brooke.” Cade set his ice pack aside and took her hand. Her touch warmed the chill in his fingers. “What happened…to Joe?”
“The bank was robbed one afternoon, only minutes before closing. He was shot while shielding one of the tellers from gunfire. He…died at the scene.”
“Wow…oh, man. That’s…awful.”
“It was beyond my comprehension. Even now, a full year later, I can’t make sense of it. Jayden took it really hard. He’s had a rough go of it. That’s why at Christmas I thought…well, I bought him the guitar. I thought it might give him something to focus on, to work at. I remember how the music helped you through some difficult times.”
Like his dad’s stroke and then his Mom’s subsequent passing. Cade figured she’d died of a broken heart, his folks were just that much in love.
And then there was losing Brooke, though she had no idea how much her rejection had wounded him.
