Now She's Back (Smoky Mountains, Tennessee 1)

by Anna Adams

  She stopped there. She didn’t share with Noah the warmth she’d felt as if Nan were beside her, turning the pages, reminding her how it had been to have a safe place to call home.

  “I like things like that,” he said. “A job that takes you back to some good times. Nan read to my brother Chad’s class. She always brought cookies, too.”

  “I never knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I must not have thought of it. Maybe I thought you knew?”

  She didn’t answer. What would she have done? Raced over to the school to share those moments so she’d never forget them? “Sorry, Noah. I wish I had.”

  “Nan gave me a place to feel safe, too.” Emma heard paper rustling. “I’ll ask Mom to meet you at the library. Any time work best for you?”

  “Whenever. I have a few things to do for clients, and I can’t work while Owen’s sawing.”

  She turned off the phone. They’d had so little in common, but she noticed now how often he referred to Nan as if she’d been his grandmother, as well. They’d shared the most important person in her life, other than him.

  Some hours later, Suzannah showed up, vibrant in a posy-printed dress, with makeup and hair carefully done.

  “You look lovely,” Emma said, standing to greet her, trying not to stare.

  “So do you. You’ve been here awhile now. Why haven’t we met?”

  “I thought you might not want to see me.”

  Suzannah sat down, and Emma did, as well. “I know what really happened. I’m sorry you got hurt before I realized that being beaten had become normal for me, but it’s not the way a woman has to live her life. I’m trying to provide for my family now, and protect them.”

  “Dad’s pretty impressed with your inn.”

  “He helped me set up my financing. I had to sell a few acres of land, but I’m making the rest pay.”

  Her pride made Emma look inward. She had to stop thinking of Noah. She wanted to be like his mother, refusing to stop moving forward with her life. The sooner Owen finished the renovations and she removed herself from Noah’s presence, the better. Imagine a woman who let herself fall in love with a man whose first priority was his whole community.

  “Let me show you what I’ve set up for the clinic. I’d appreciate your opinion.”

  They went through the screens, Emma making some of Suzannah’s changes on the fly, taking notes for the others, mostly wording to talk over with Noah. Suzannah’s phone, vibrating in her purse, interrupted them. She leaned forward to get it.

  “Sorry. I never ignore it when Celia’s out of town and Chad’s in school.”

  “No problem.” Emma turned the laptop back toward her. She flipped to some comparable media pages she’d intended to show Suzannah.

  “What are you saying, Chad?” Suzannah asked. She veered sideways in her chair, and Emma turned to give her a little privacy. “I’m on my way. Don’t say another word to Mr. Harris. I mean it, son.”

  She disconnected and looked at Emma, embarrassed. “A little trouble at school.” She pulled her stuff together, the energy Emma had seen ebbing away.

  “Can I do anything for you?”

  “No!” Suzannah snapped. “I’m sorry. I worry about that boy. Can we set up another meeting?”

  “Sure. Just text me.”

  Suzannah threw her a grateful look. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

  After she left, Emma stared at her screen, feeling helpless and a little hopeless. It wasn’t as if Suzannah had said Chad was on the verge of being expelled.

  But she’d looked as if she didn’t know what to do next.

  Old habits did die hard. Emma stared at her phone, tipped on its side in the pocket of her computer bag. In the old days, she would have called Noah to tell him.

  She wanted to call Noah. Suzannah had never been able to handle crises, not her family’s or her own.

  Emma pushed the phone farther down in its pocket. Then again, Suzannah had worked her way out of a situation Emma couldn’t begin to imagine. This was just a call from school. Chad was a normal high school kid.

  Emma pulled the laptop closer and distractedly answered business emails until she couldn’t stand the voices in her head any longer and packed up her things. She went home, pretending she wasn’t hoping to learn something from Owen, who was redoing the floor in her downstairs office with reclaimed wood he’d found in Sweetwater, a little town nearby.

  He was standing on the porch, talking on his cell as she parked in her driveway. He waved at her, then shoved his free hand into the pocket of his hoodie.

  Emma scooped her things out of the backseat and headed for the front door.

  “Chad, I’m not the problem today,” Owen said, his voice carrying. “You got in a fight with some kid because he didn’t like your hair. When I do that, we’ll talk about my flaws.”

  He shrugged at Emma, his frustrated expression saying, “Teenagers.” Poor Owen. Obviously, Suzannah had wanted help with her youngest son, but equally obviously, Chad didn’t respect Owen’s opinion.

  “I’m coming over there, and we’re going to talk,” Owen said. “You’d better be at home when I finish this evening.”

  Nodding, Emma scurried inside, trying harder still to stay out of Gage family business. She started the kettle and set up her work materials on the kitchen table. The front door banged open.

  “Sorry you had to hear that,” Owen said.

  “No problem. Kids do these things. Hair will hopefully never matter so much again.”

  “The problem with growing up in Owen and Suzannah Odell’s house is that you never know when you’re supposed to go in, guns blazing, or when you should laugh it off. Chad tends to think guns blazing is always the best answer.”

  “Maybe you should call Noah. This might be the one time when two heads are better than one.”

  He appeared to consider, but then he shook his head. “I’d better get back to work. Maybe I’ll figure out the perfect advice for a black sheep to offer a burgeoning bad boy.”

  Noah had definitely come out of the Gage family with the best people skills—except when his own family needed help. Emma reached for her earbuds as Owen began to power-nail in the office. Her phone tumbled out of her bag, tangled in the cords.

  It was none of her business, and if Owen seemed more sure, she’d stay out of it. But what if Chad was in danger of being expelled in his senior year?

  She grabbed her phone and searched for Noah’s office number. A young woman answered, her voice friendly.

  “Dr. Gage is with a patient. May I take a message?”

  Maybe Suzannah had already called him. “Will you ask him to call Emma Candler?”

  She gave her number, thanked his receptionist and hung up, pushing the phone as far as it would go from her down the table. She felt foolish. This was the first time she’d gotten in touch with Noah for a reason that wasn’t perfectly normal. This was like the old days, when Noah was the only answer to any of her questions.

  She couldn’t work. She made tea, considered taking a cup to Owen, but then didn’t have the nerve to look him in the eye.

  By the time her phone bounced on the table, vibrating with an incoming call, she felt as if she was going to be sick.

  “Emma, you called me? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m overstepping my bounds,” she said, her mouth so dry she could hardly form words, “and I know I’m overreacting, but the school called your mother about Chad while we were meeting.” As penance, she shared the rest of her unfortunate detecting activities. “When I got home, Owen was talking to Chad. He was in a fight at school. I know it’s none of my business.”

  “It isn’t,” he said, “but I’m glad you called. “Thanks.”

  “I feel awful.”

  “It doesn’t
matter. I’d better reach Chad as soon as I can.”

  “And Owen. He’s going to be annoyed I called you.” She felt even worse after she hit the end button on the call. “What a horrible busybody I am,” she said.

  “You got that right.”

  Owen, wearing a fine layer of sawdust, stared at her from the kitchen doorway.

  “Say what you’re thinking.” Emma stood to pour him a cup of tea. “I deserve every word of it.”

  Owen came in and sat. “Couldn’t you tell I didn’t want to involve Noah? This doesn’t have to be his problem.”

  She picked up the cup and the sugar bowl and carried it to the table, where he spooned in the sweetener.

  “Your mother looked desperate, and you sounded fed up, and if he’s in real trouble, Noah has the ear of a lot of people in town.”

  “We’ve tried to stop taking all our troubles to him,” Owen said as he rubbed his stubbled chin. “But Chad seems to think his fists are a viable conversation starter these days, and he might be using up the last of his football-star good will.”

  “I don’t know how a family stops leaning on each other,” she said. “Even mine. Dad finally let me know what was going on here, or the house might have fallen down.”

  “Leaning is one thing, but my mother has Noah come by here or my cabin every time she decides I’ve been out of her sight too long.”

  “Why do you still live in that cabin?”

  “It’s far enough from the pubs in town that I can avoid temptation. Every night is happy hour somewhere on Main Street.”

  Emma laughed. “That’s obvious, but it never occurred to me.”

  “If my mom doesn’t leave me alone, she’ll drive me back to the bottle.”

  “She’s scared for you.”

  He shrugged, acknowledging his mother’s concern. “I complain, but I appreciated Noah’s help the other day, too. I get migraines, and he made me a compress. It helped more than the medicine.”

  “Well, after he’s had time to think,” Emma said, “he’ll only dislike me more for interfering.”

  Owen sipped his tea, the rose-printed cup looking incongruous in his work-roughened hand. “Would that matter to you?”

  “I’d like to come home when I need to see Nan’s house and when I want to visit my dad, and even my mom,” she said. “That would be easier if there weren’t a long-standing feud between the capable Dr. Gage and me.”

  Owen studied her. “I can see you still care about him.”

  It was her turn to hold her tongue. Past her turn. She took a swallow of her tea, but then sputtered because it was too hot.

  Laughing, Owen said, “You two always were a pair. Pity neither of you ever learned when to start fighting.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “YOU’RE NOT MARCHING me into that school like I’m some kid,” Chad said.

  Noah reached across his brother and opened the car door. Cold air swept out of the darkness—the sun had already gone down—tasting as if snow might be on the way. Once, the promise of snow might have softened Chad enough to make the stubborn kid listen.

  “You’re seventeen, and if you get expelled, you’ll lose any hope of a scholarship.”

  “Maybe I don’t want one. Celia’s about to lose hers.” Chad covered his knees with his large, quarterback’s hands. Tall, thick-muscled and dirty blond, he looked more like their father than any of the Gage offspring. At thirteen, he’d been protected the most from the unholy terror of living in their home. Owen had often taken Chad and Celia through the fields while Noah stayed to keep their father off their mother.

  Chad was living proof that even abused children still loved the parents they had, and he’d missed their estranged father more than the others put together.

  “Celia’s choices aren’t yours.” Noah opened his own door and began to climb out. Everyone in his family had a well-developed party gene, but he couldn’t blame Celia. At least her idea of partying had proven harmless so far, and she’d had little enough playtime as a child. “You don’t have to make choices like Dad’s either. Stop hitting people before someone finds your weakness and drops you like a sack of potatoes.”

  Chad scoffed, then angled his body and got out of the car, his awkwardness reminding Noah just how young he was. How quiet he’d been, growing more troubled while everyone had thought he was coping well.

  “No one lays a finger on me,” Chad said.

  Noah stopped, stock-still. “That’s exactly what Dad used to say.” While Noah had lain on the ground at his father’s feet, his head ringing or his jaw throbbing. But it had been easier than watching the old man take a shot at his mother or one of the smaller kids.

  “Maybe he had the right idea,” Chad said. “I get sick of everyone telling me what I need to do, how I need to live. And stop comparing me to Dad. Owen’s the drunk.”

  “Don’t say that again.” Noah let a little of his rage at their father seep into his voice. “Owen is your brother. Family has your back when everyone else walks away.”

  “Not our family.”

  “Chad.”

  Desperate to make him listen, Noah wanted to grab the kid by the scruff of his neck. It wouldn’t do. How could he use violence to teach him not to be violent? His brother looked back at him. Noah put his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

  “I will always have your back.”

  “Yeah?” Chad shrugged his hands off. “Maybe I don’t need you. Let’s get this over with. If I don’t graduate, I won’t get out of this sinkhole, and I’m not going to plant myself here like you for the rest of my life.”

  “Whatever works,” Noah said.

  They entered the school together. Their footsteps ricocheted around the empty halls. At the principal’s office, Noah knocked. For the first time, panic flickered across Chad’s face. Noah ignored the tightening in his chest.

  If he got Chad out of this, trouble might not be so intimidating next time. How many times had he claimed he was going to stop interfering in his family’s lives?

  “Why don’t you take care of this on your own?” he suggested abruptly.

  The man inside called for them to come in. “Please come with me” was written all over Chad’s face, but Noah resisted the tug-of-war in his conscience. He opened the door and murmured, “Better make the apology good.”

  Chad looked furious—several hopeful steps up from his usual diffidence. Feeling had to be better than allowing himself to feel nothing. Noah shut the door after him.

  While Chad had changed out of his fight-stained clothes, their mother had suggested he might need something more than school and football practice to occupy his time. Noah had an idea for something more physical to add to Chad’s list of time-consuming chores. He dialed Emma’s number. She answered on the first ring.

  “Noah, I’m so glad you called. I wanted to apologize.”

  “Forget it,” he said. “You did us a favor. By the time I got to the inn, my mom was going to write a note of apology for Chad.”

  “Surely he knew better. If he were younger, maybe a note from Suzannah would be okay.”

  “He’s resentful and angry. In talking to Mr. Harris, the principal, right now.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “I’m wondering if you’d help us out,” Noah said, as if they spoke every day. As if asking her for a favor wasn’t a little like trying to move the mountain by handfuls of dirt.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll talk to Chad about this if you agree, but I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t mind first.”

  “Mind what?”

  “Owen could use some help on your job. Chad needs to swing a hammer rather than his fists. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask Owen to hire Chad as a helper.”

  “You’re looking for a kind of community servi
ce assignment? Sure,” she said with relief, but then gave a small gasp, one so flavored with the lovely sound of her voice that she depleted his supply of oxygen. “Except, wait, I can’t afford to pay Owen more for Chad.”

  “Right.” He hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll speak to Owen. He can pay Chad out of his budget, or he can persuade Chad that working with him for free is a good penance.”

  * * *

  ON A FROSTY Monday morning, after she’d picked up something called sanded grout for Owen, Emma tracked down the county clerk’s office in the bowels of the courthouse. No wonder they let you mail in the fee to renew your car registration these days—if you weren’t four years late and driving around, blissfully unthinking about the expired tag on the car you’d left at home while you traveled around the world. She loitered in the back of a long line that continued building behind her. In the small, echoing area, conversation stayed at a whisper, but Emma still heard her name. The couple speaking about her looked away as she turned to face them.

  After the first half hour, she started reading a book on her phone. Finally, the line inched forward, and her retired second grade teacher peered through the yellowed Plexiglas divider that kept her safe from all the overwrought, out-of-date tag buyers in Bliss.

  “Emma, are you aware this registration expired over a year ago?”

  “Four years, Mrs. Parker, if you look carefully at the date. I kind of forgot about it, because I was out of town.”

  “I know you were out of town, but your father lives here. Your mother still lives here.” Mrs. Parker adjusted her glasses on her delicate nose. That, and her soft gray curls, belied the steely accusation in her eyes. She hadn’t raised her second graders to go running out of town just because they were embarrassed. A Mrs. Parker-taught young woman stood and faced all detractors. Without whining.

  “I’m home right now so I can do it.”

  That was not explanation enough, but Mrs. Parker relented. Slightly. “Now, normally, I’d add a late fee to this bill you’re paying forty-nine months late.” She peered more closely at Emma, who was caught between laughing and apologizing. “But I know you’re a good girl, and you wouldn’t choose to break the law and drive your car illegally. How long have you been back in town?”