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

by Anna Adams

  “I can’t do that, Mother. Noah doesn’t need me to know what’s best for him to do.” She picked up her fork. “I don’t want to discuss Noah or Dad or what I should do next to control anyone’s life. Let’s talk about what you’ve been doing.”

  “I’ll give you the abridged version.”

  “I’m grateful.”

  She was even more grateful a little later as she drove beneath the orange and burgundy and red leaves to her house. Peace and quiet and no more verbal fencing.

  She was wrong.

  As soon as she stepped out of the car, she heard the crash of a billion pieces of metal.

  “Owen. Chad—” Emma dropped her things and bolted up the stairs.

  “I’m not picking them up,” Chad was saying as she walked into the new office. Neither of the brothers noticed her. “You wanted a keg of nails. You got ’em. You can use the empty keg for a glass. You know Emma has a ton of wine in the basement.”

  “I’ve enjoyed the boozehound jokes all day. Now pick up the nails.”

  “I’m not your servant.”

  “You kind of are. I’m paying you out of my wages because you can’t keep your fists to yourself.”

  “Paying me? If you’d gone to college, you might have heard of the minimum wage.”

  “If you don’t shut your mouth, you won’t be hearing anything until you get out of intensive care.”

  “If you come near me, I’ll just throw a vodka bottle. You’d follow that to the ends of the earth.”

  “Cut it out,” Emma shouted, effectively silencing them and stopping them from grabbing handfuls of nails and then dropping them, but not in the empty bucket.

  “Stop with the arguing, Chad,” she said more quietly. “You should be grateful Owen took you on.”

  “Oh, sure, you’re on his side. You’re actually paying him, but I’m just some charity case you’re trying to keep out of trouble.”

  And they were off again. She’d only thrown gas on the fire.

  * * *

  NOAH WAS FINISHING a pediatric wellness check when his phone began to ring. Regularly.

  Lynsay had already gone home for the day. He’d stayed late due to the parents’ work schedule. He walked over to the counter and silenced the phone, then finished with the ten-month-old girl and her parents and walked them to the front door.

  When he went back to his phone, the screen was lighting up.

  Emma?

  And she’d called four times. He picked it up and slid the screen icon to answer. “What’s up?” he asked, deliberately casual.

  “I think you should come,” she said, barely above a whisper. “It’s Chad and Owen. They’re—”

  She didn’t have to finish. “I’m leaving right now.” He should have known better. One brother with their father’s uncertain temper, one with his thirst. A perfect storm, waiting to blow up at Louisa Dane’s old place on Bliss Peak. “Stay out of their way.”

  “Hurry,” she said.

  He closed the office and ran to his car. The further into November the days moved, the more crowded the streets of Bliss became. Visitors had started to arrive, checking discreetly into inns all over town, taking chalets at the ski lodges clinging to the nearby mountains.

  He kept the car to a crawl through the streets, avoiding pedestrians and police, who were ready to make the streets safe for reveling guests. It seemed forever when at last he braked to a halt in the gravel in front of the porch where Chad was walking into Owen, taunting him. He’d clearly done it more than once. Emma, whom Owen had apparently been holding behind him, managed to duck between the two brothers.

  He should have known she couldn’t stay out of it.

  “Emma,” he said, climbing out of the car.

  They all three froze.

  “What are you doing here?” Chad asked.

  Owen looked at Emma. “I should have known,” he said. “Your go-to position. Get Noah.”

  “I was desperate,” she said.

  “You’re nosy, and so is my brother.” Chad looked angry enough to take a swing at the porch stanchion if that was all he could reach.

  Noah began to climb the stairs, his eyes on the three disgruntled almost-warriors. Owen made a growling noise and descended the stairs three at a time to exit the field. He jumped in his truck and spun through the gravel to turn, then sped off.

  “Was he drinking?” Noah asked.

  Emma’s worried expression transformed into pure fury, but as he looked at her, he caught his other brother’s satisfied grin.

  “Why do you immediately assume he was?” Emma asked. She glanced at Chad. “And wipe that smirk off your face. You’ve pushed him all day today. He’s doing you a favor, letting you work here. If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”

  Chad had the good sense to cast Noah a questioning look.

  “Not a chance,” Noah said. “It’s work here, or I’ll find something a lot less pleasant for you. I would have thought manual labor on this house would have tired you out too much to leave you wanting to start a fight.”

  “I’m almost eighteen. I don’t have to do anything you say.”

  “Try me.”

  At that, Chad followed Owen’s path down the porch stairs. He was more careful as he turned his car and headed down the mountain. Chad had worked too hard for his wheels. He wasn’t about to risk wrecking them.

  “What happened?” Noah asked.

  “I don’t know. Chad showed up in a weird mood. He actually made fun of Owen’s...problems.”

  Noah shot her a look that said he was in no mood to put up with a comforting lie.

  “Owen was not drinking,” she said. “He kept teasing Chad about getting to work. I had to go out for a meeting and a really late lunch. By the time I got home, I think Owen had just had enough. No one likes his kid brother to call him the town drunk.”

  “Chad did that?”

  “Those weren’t his exact words, but he made it clear enough.”

  “I’d better find him and figure out what’s wrong.”

  “Maybe you should,” Emma said.

  “That’s a first.” He took her hand without thinking.

  “Well, I think you have to make sure brothers don’t kill each other.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just remember your dad when he was in Chad’s mood.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “CHAD?”

  He was standing at the fence that separated the high school’s practice football field from the rest of the sports facilities. He and Noah shared qualities with their father. All three intense, easily frustrated, unwilling to give up what they wanted until there were no further steps to take.

  His father had found relief from his compulsions in alcohol and beating his frustrations out on his family. Chad seemed to be settling for using his fists, too, and yet, Noah couldn’t remember a time when Chad hadn’t been the first to rescue a stray dog or cat. The first to stand between a bully at school and the kid who couldn’t protect himself.

  Chad turned from the fence. Beyond, his teammates had started their sprints for practice. “I have to go,” he said.

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll have to run extra laps.”

  “You could use a few extra laps. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll let you go.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. You’re not some miracle-working kid whisperer.”

  “I might be if you’d give me a chance. Look at me, Chad. I’ve been where you are. Angry, fed up, needing to do things my way.”

  “But you didn’t get in fights, and you want to know why I like to fight for what I want.”

  “I’ve always fought,” Noah said, “but not with my fists. After I saw Dad hit you and Owen and Celia
and Mom, I couldn’t imagine laying my hand on another human being in anger.”

  “You threatened Dad once.”

  “I didn’t know you saw that,” Noah said, hurting for his little brother. “I would have done whatever I had to, to keep him from injuring any one of you again, but I won’t touch another person.”

  “Yeah, guess you’re just the better man,” Chad said. “If I have to use my strength, I will. I want what I want, and I’ll take it. Like I won’t go sniffing around some girl, the way you do around Emma. If you want her, go after her. I’ve seen you look at Owen as if you want to kill him. Why pretend you don’t care if they finally do start wanting each other? You take what you want from her, and let her go again.”

  A fist closed around Noah’s heart. Chad had seen all his finest moments. All those years trying to do the right thing, and this was all Chad knew about him, that he’d threatened their father and made Emma believe he’d never loved her.

  “Why don’t you learn from my mistakes,” he said, “because that attitude’s not working so well for you.”

  “I have to go, man.”

  Chad took off, loping easily, as if he’d only turned his back on one of the many football fans who yelled his name and number every Friday night as he romped to one more touchdown.

  Noah let him go. Holding him would cause more anger, and he didn’t have the answers. He’d never chosen Chad’s idea of a solution. Noah took his phone out of his pocket and did the one thing he always swore he’d never do again.

  He dialed their father’s cell phone number. As if he waited all the hours of every day for a message from the one member of his family who still spoke to him, Odell Gage answered.

  “Son,” he said, as if that were the most natural word in the world for him to speak. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need you to talk to Chad,” he said. “If you’re still sober, and you aren’t in a beef with every one of your neighbors, I need you to tell Chad why you’re trying to be a decent man.”

  “Can I come there?” Odell’s hopeful tone might have been touching if Noah hadn’t long since steeled his heart against the best con man in the southeast.

  “I’ll bring Chad to you.”

  Escape routes were essential when letting his father near anyone who mattered to him. “When will you be home?”

  He received a text while he was talking to his father. After they hung up, he read it. “Forgot to tell you. My dad says he can get you a private meeting with the council.”

  * * *

  THE DOORBELL RANG even before the first rays of sunlight began to creep through Emma’s window. Owen had certainly managed to restore that bell to full voice.

  “I’m coming!” she shouted, struggling out of the bedding. She tended to be naturally warm, and she hadn’t turned on the heat yet. She’d just let the temperature inside the house drop toward the lower sixties and piled on the blankets. It was like sleeping in a heavy, comforting embrace.

  Until now, when someone rang her bell over and over. A glance at the clock told her it was just after five.

  She staggered down the stairs, pulling a robe over her pajamas.

  “Here I am!” Coming off the stairs in her socks, she skidded across the polished foyer floor. The bell rang again as she disarmed her alarm system and opened the door.

  “Owen?”

  He was slouched against the doorframe, his light brown hair askew. His eyes were buried in dark circles, and his clothing looked as if he’d tried to take it off, but couldn’t manage to find the buttons and zippers.

  “Did you catch up with Chad?” she asked. “You two didn’t fight, did you?”

  “No, no. I looked for Chad at the high school practice field, but Noah was busy coddling him, so I took myself off to celebrate my restraint in not knocking my baby brother into next week.”

  “What was it all about?”

  “Chad’s mad at the world, and he wanted a punching bag. I get that,” he said. “I really get that, so instead of starting trouble with someone else, I celebrated. And then I came to you to avoid a fight.” His voice was too slow, too precise. He was concentrating on not slurring, which made his condition all the more obvious. “My family has troops of AA members surrounding my cabin, and I think Noah’s wired a breathalyzer into the front door. Don’t get all stuffy-looking. I’m not insulting your precious Noah,” he said. “I just don’t need the paternal attitude.”

  “You need something. You’d better come in.”

  “Wait.” He held up a finger, but then lost his thought.

  “Come on.”

  He staggered inside. “No. I’ve got it. Promise you won’t tell Noah about this, and you won’t fire me because I drank too much.”

  “You didn’t just drink too much. You applied your work ethic to the effort. How many bars did you close down?” she asked, and then horror dawned. “How did you get here?”

  “I took the world’s most expensive taxi,” he said. “We had to follow my tracks from earlier in the night because I lost my wallet. You’d be surprised how impatient a taxi driver gets.”

  “I’m getting some idea.” She peered back outside. The occasional snowflake fluttered through the glow of the old-fashioned, metal-framed porch lights, shaped to look like gas lamps. “He drove away while you waited for me to answer the door?”

  “She did drive away. If you hadn’t been here, I’d already decided to search for her tomorrow and get my tip back.” He shut his mouth and grinned, pleased with himself, though no one else who knew him would be. “Unless I died of hypothermia sleeping on your porch.”

  “She shouldn’t have left you until she saw you could get in.” Emma dragged him toward the stairs and propped him against the beautiful newel post he’d repaired and restained.

  He wrapped his arms around the pineapple that crowned the post as Emma shut her front door. She ran back to him before he slipped to the floor. “Can you climb the stairs?”

  “I can do anything.”

  “Too bad you don’t know that when you’re not tanked to the gills. Why have you done this, Owen? You were doing so well.”

  “Not as well as you might believe, but I’m good at covering my tracks so people never really know what I’ve been doing. It’s the benefit of living out in my grandparents’ old cabin.”

  “Then why did you come here tonight?”

  “I told you.”

  “About the imaginary troops and the nonexistent breathalyzer.”

  “And the cabbie who wouldn’t drive out to the farm.”

  “Ah, so I was handy.” Story of her life with the Gage men. “Come upstairs with me, but be careful. You’ll probably sue me if I let you break your neck on my stairs.”

  “I might.” He refused to budge, and she practically fell against him. “You weren’t just handy,” he said, his bleary gaze trying to focus on hers. “I trust you. I wish you and Noah had worked it out, but he’s afraid how he’ll feel when you leave again.”

  “I’m not about to discuss Noah with you. Look down at the stairs.” They managed to make it to the first landing with a little swearing from him and a whole lot of encouragement from her. “Need to rest?”

  “Better not. I’m pretty sleepy. Take me to a room you don’t love best.”

  “I love every nook and cranny of this house best.”

  “You do. I like that about you. Never knew why you left.”

  “Because I loved Noah, but he was busy elsewhere.”

  “You were pretty selfish.”

  “I didn’t know that at the time.”

  “Are you still?”

  “Do you promise to forget this conversation when you’re sober?”

  “Sure. Won’t be able to help it.”

  “I am still selfish. I want Noah all
to myself, and I don’t mind when he takes care of you all, like I’m taking care of you tonight, but there will always be moments—like with Chad. Did you hear what Noah said?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “He said he’d find something worse for Chad to do than work here.”

  Owen clung to the balustrade. “He wasn’t insulting your house.”

  “He didn’t tell Chad to figure it out himself if he couldn’t accept help.”

  “You want him to be heartless?”

  “I want him to know the difference between doing the right thing and going overboard.”

  “I can tell you’re an only child. Wait’ll your little sister comes along. You’re gonna make Noah look like he doesn’t care about us at all.”

  He made some drunken sense. She urged him upward again. If he burst into tears, she might cry, too. She’d warned him to stay sober, but she wasn’t about to fire him.

  At the top of the stairs, she considered the accommodations. She’d put new bedding in the room closest to the linen closet. The other bedrooms each sported one of Nan’s quilts. She wouldn’t let any of them be subject to one of Owen’s sloppy slumbers.

  “This way,” she said, and they made it in one long, less than graceful effort. Emma swung him toward the bed, and he sat with a squeaking thud.

  “Comfortable,” he said. “You must have one of those mattresses that remembers you.”

  Memory foam. In the morning—the real morning—she and Owen were going to speak seriously.

  “Let me get your shoes off.”

  “Thank you. I was going to take them off outside because they’re muddy, but I couldn’t manage the laces.”

  He tried to lift up his feet, but he kept falling over. Emma ended up easing him back so that he was lying down. She yanked off his shoes, and then undid the top button of his shirt.

  “Were you wearing a tie with this getup?” she asked. “Did you have a date?”

  “None of your business, and I sacrificed it at Blandings Bar.”

  “I don’t even want to know. I’ll go get you some water and leave it on the nightstand.” She went around the bed, and lifted the comforter and sheets to fold them across on top of Owen as if he were the filling in a turnover. She added another blanket from the closet. “Go to sleep, okay?”