by Anna Adams
“Like you have? As far as I can tell, you keep throwing happiness away every time it gets near you.”
“I don’t want to talk about Emma, but let’s get you and me straight. I hound you relentlessly because I love you, and I’d find a way to kill your thirst if I could. I can’t, and it makes me frustrated.”
“Like when you can’t bring this mythical clinic to life just the way you planned?”
“It’s not mythical anymore.”
“I mean mythical in terms of its being the answer to all your problems.” Owen sat down on one of the brightly painted chairs and took a wary sip of the hot brew.
“It wasn’t the answer.”
“No joke. It wouldn’t be even if you’d gotten it just the way you wanted, choosing the property and controlling every decision from breaking ground until cutting the ribbon.”
“You think I’m that shallow? I want a place for you to get treatment if you suddenly find yourself suffering alcohol poisoning. I want Mom to have a chance if she falls off the roof and punctures a lung.”
“Well, you get that much with the clinic.”
“Not in Emma’s house.” Noah took the chair across from Owen’s. “You’ve seen her there every day since she came back. Every dish, every stick of furniture, every wrinkle in the worn upholstery means something to her.” He plunged his hands into his hair. “Not just something. That place is her anchor. It’s given her some of her grandmother’s air of peace. She’s learned to be unselfish, and I think it’s because she’s living in the place where she knew Nan’s unconditional love.” He pushed his feet under the table. “The only unconditional love she ever knew.”
“Meaning yours wasn’t?” Owen said.
“I didn’t have the time to love her the way she needed.” He didn’t want to blame his family, and there were men who’d been through worse than he’d faced and still managed to have a family. “I did love her, but I wanted her to come to me. I wanted her to love me the way I wanted, and when she got close, all I could see was the fact that no one loved me like that.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Owen stared at him as if he were seeing a man he’d never known. “She never would have left.”
“I couldn’t find the right words then or now,” Noah said. “I wasn’t good enough for her. I wasn’t good enough to make the council and the people who came to those meetings see I was trying to do the right thing. I’ve never been good enough, but I’m not taking the house from Emma. It’s her heart.”
Owen pushed his coffee cup forward as if the coffee didn’t taste good, after all. “You’re good enough, Noah. The only place you aren’t good enough is in your own head, and if you don’t stop letting our dad’s yelling voice run your life, you’ll lose Emma, because no one can believe a silent man loves her when he keeps pushing her away.”
“I never pushed her or you away.”
“One thing I’ve learned at AA is you have to stop lying to yourself. Eventually, you’re the only person who believes the lies you tell to keep yourself safe.”
Noah stared at him, rage filtering into every cell in his body. He wanted to hit. He wanted to throw furniture. He wanted to be his own father when he couldn’t handle frustration. How many people were going to ply him with platitudes before this day ended?
But the moment he grabbed the table ledge and imagined himself throwing the whole thing, his brother included, at the far wall, a question occurred to him.
What if Owen was right?
What if he was his own worst problem?
He’d let Emma walk away because she hadn’t come to him. Staying with him in Bliss hadn’t been good enough for her. So, he’d let her go.
She would have left him anyway. Eventually.
He lowered his head. That was the way he thought about everyone he loved. He never told the truth about himself, that he loved. He worked to show his love in service, and he expected them, Emma most of all, to read the love in his actions. But his actions toward Emma...
He’d drawn lines in the sand, and every time she crossed them, trying to reach him, he’d backed away and drawn a less generous line. Accused her of using the clinic to get at him.
“Owen...” he began.
His brother picked up his mug. “If you’re going to hit me, you’ll have to go through Mom’s cup first.”
“Sometime later, I’m going to ask you for instructions on tough love. You do it better than I ever did.”
“I’ve never much believed in that kind of love, but here’s to opening a mind closed against itself.” He toasted with his coffee and then took another swallow. “I’ve been delving into philosophy while I roam the cabin, not sleeping.”
Noah came around the table and gripped his brother’s shoulder. “Next time you can’t sleep, call me. You may have to pry my mind open again, but I’ll remember this night.”
Owen smiled the way he had when they were boys, before they’d lost their ability to believe. “Maybe you will,” he said.
“Owen, I want to talk to you about the barn.”
“Our barn? The one by my cabin?”
“I’m afraid so,” Owen said. “What would you think of turning that into a clinic?”
His brother set down his cup with a thud that sloshed coffee onto the table. “Huh?”
“Could you do it? Is the barn still in good enough shape?”
Owen looked down at his hands. “It’s in good shape. I’ve been repairing it—when philosophy didn’t fix me up.”
“Why?” Noah had learned something in the past several weeks. He wasn’t ducking the question. “Do you want it?”
“I was always ashamed that Dad didn’t take care of it. He resented Mom because people said she married down. That barn was a symbol to me. Decay. Death. You kept our family together even when I thought you were a pain in the—you kept coming home. You found a way to pay bills. You cemented us together, even if we just hung out to bash you behind your back.”
“Nice.” But it didn’t hurt. He saw the humor.
“I could make that barn into a clinic.” Owen shrugged. “But could you get the council to hire me?”
Noah knew the right answer. “If I can’t, I’ll ask Brett Candler to vouch for you. He just has to look around Emma’s house to see the quality of your work. But I have to be able to promise you won’t drink, Owen.”
“I know.”
His brother took it like a man. He’d faced his demons and he was fighting them. Noah learned something from his dignity.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said.
“I won’t drink.” He offered Noah his hand. “I need a second chance around here too much to risk losing it.”
Noah ignored his brother’s hand and hugged him instead. “I didn’t mean I was sorry for needing a sober general contractor. I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk. I have a feeling I’m going to be saying that quite a bit, but you and Emma deserve to hear me repeat it most often.”
“You’d better find her before she buys tickets to whatever spot on the globe is farthest from here.”
“She’s not listening to me right now. I need to settle a few things before I see her. So she’ll give me a second chance.”
“You’re still an idiot,” Owen said.
“I hope not. If you catch her packing, call me and grab her laptop bag. She won’t leave without that.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMMA GAZED INTO her baby sister’s face, adoring each little eyelash, the innocent curve of her mouth, her tiny fist balled beside it. “I don’t know how you put her down for a second, Megan.”
“Your dad suggested hiring a housekeeper, but this is my nest.” She opened her arms to encompass not just the pale green nursery walls, but every room in the Candler house. “I don’t want anyone except us around right now.”
“I don’t know.” Emma pressed a kiss to Evelyn’s sweet-smelling forehead. “Cooking and cleaning, or holding this little precious? I’d think about a housekeeper.”
“Well, we’re taking you up on Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow,” Megan said. “Last year I set the turkey on fire, and I wasn’t even caring for a newborn then.”
“I could manage to set it on fire tomorrow, too, but I’m glad you’re coming. I bought enough to feed an army. You and Dad and Evelyn are my favorite troops.”
“Are we?” Megan asked with a knowing smile. She sprawled on the loveseat, her head on one arm, bracing her feet against the arm at the other end. “You sure that honor doesn’t belong to Noah?”
Emma considered her answer. She didn’t want to fire up the resentment between Noah and her father again, but the truth would come out eventually. She decided it shouldn’t come out before the clinic was under way.
“Don’t tell Dad, but whatever was happening between Noah and me is over. I think it was just friendship anyway.”
“I think you’re crazy. He’s as nuts for you as you are for him.”
“I may be nuts, but I have to stop being nuts for him.”
“You argued? I heard he was angry about the idea of using your house.”
“More than just angry.”
“Did you consider he might be concerned on your behalf?”
“No,” Emma said, with the only certainty she felt about anything. “I think he’s stiff-necked and stubborn, and he hated that Dad and I helped him.”
Megan crossed her feet and arrowed her fingertips against each other, deep in thought. “You’re a sensitive woman with everyone else you know, Emma, but you never seem aware of what’s going on beneath Noah’s surface.”
“Noah’s all surface. You’re just too generous.” Emma kissed Evelyn again, willing her anger to fade. “Which I love about you. Imagine if you hadn’t seen the best of me, and you hadn’t welcomed me into your and Dad’s life.”
“You were here first,” Megan said. “I’m lucky you let me in.”
“We’re all plenty lucky.” The baby scrunched up her nose, and Emma started the rocker moving with a gentle push. “I’ll tell Dad the truth eventually, when everything’s under way with the clinic. You know, I’ve been trying to talk to Mr. Phillips, but he won’t call me back. Yesterday, his secretary said he wouldn’t be back in his office until after Thanksgiving.”
Megan tapped her fingers together. “That’s Monday. Don’t worry. Just enjoy the holiday.”
“Baby hormones make you uber-cheerful, Megan.”
“And hungry. You won’t mind the baby coming with us tomorrow?” Megan asked. “She can be noisy, you know. With us, you’re going to have more of a sports fans rioting atmosphere than a Norman Rockwell family-around-the-table painting.”
“Evelyn’s cute enough to avert the focus from my cooking if anything goes wrong. She’ll be fine. I’ll set up a guest room for her. Have Dad put that pack-and-stay thing in the car. In fact, why don’t you all stay the night? The paint fumes should have faded by then.”
“Paint fumes?” Megan’s enthusiasm was not boundless. “And I have one more question I hate to ask. Is your mother coming?”
“Not this year. She made plans elsewhere.” Emma stared at Evelyn’s tiny hands. “I invited Noah’s family the last time I met with Suzannah. They’re helping her do a Thanksgiving meal at noon-ish. I thought she might like a break for dinner, and she’s already told her guests she’d set out an array of small plates tomorrow night.”
“You’re wondering if Noah will show up?”
“Not really. I don’t expect him. Maybe I should explain to Suzannah. I hate to talk everyone we know into lying to Dad, but I could always ask her to say Noah had an emergency. I’d just like to celebrate without anyone going to the ER.”
“Maybe it will all sort itself out.” Megan swung her feet to the floor. “I can’t believe she’s not having her own family dinner. I’ve never understood people who don’t eat leftovers on Thanksgiving evening after the football’s over. I expect you to do us up a little take-home package.”
“Football and turkey leftovers. Megan, if Dad had met you before Mother, I would never have existed.”
“Go, Packers,” she said, rooting for Brett’s favorite team.
Laughing, Emma stood up to carry Evelyn to her mother. “I have to go. I need to start some broth tonight.” Like Nan used to do. “I hope you and Dad will stay over tomorrow.”
“I’ll tell him about the guest rooms and the lack of paint fumes.”
* * *
AFTER BROTH-MAKING until midnight, Emma set her phone alarm for 6:00 a.m. so she’d have plenty of time to start the turkey and all the fixings that had made Nan’s Thanksgiving the best day in every year.
Her mother called her to wish her a nice day, and then Pamela was off to enjoy her own. Next year, even if they dined together alone, Emma would ask her to come.
Her father and Megan and Evelyn arrived as she was pushing the turkey into the oven. Her father hauled the baby’s things up to their rooms for the night, and Megan followed to peel Evelyn out of her warm outer clothing. Alone in the kitchen, Emma spied Suzannah and Chad and Celia spilling out of their car, all carrying covered dishes.
“Sorry,” Suzannah said. “I couldn’t help myself. I just whipped up a few things. We couldn’t show up empty-handed.”
“Thank heaven,” Emma said. “Now I’m sure we’ll have something good to eat.”
Suzannah hugged her as she reached the door. “The house already smells delicious. I can’t wait to see the work Owen and Chad have done.”
“I’ll show you, Mom.” Chad nodded at Emma in his high-school-senior way. “Hi. Nice to see you.”
“Thanks for asking us,” Celia said. “Except for the night I busted into your dinner party, I haven’t been here since Halloween when I was twelve.”
“Nan kept up with you, though.” Emma let the door shut behind them, not mentioning Owen and Noah’s absences. “She told me you were valedictorian.”
“She and Mom clapped loudest after my speech.” Celia wrapped her arm around her mother’s waist. “Absolutely humiliating.”
“Ha ha.” Suzannah handed her the dish she carried. “Help your brother put these away. I want a word with Emma.”
“I’m sure the fridge will deeply confuse Chad.” Celia sauntered away, sweet and stylish and young.
Emma felt very little of each as she faced Noah’s mother.
“Owen went over to change Noah’s mind about coming,” Suzannah said. “I don’t know what goes on with that boy.”
“He’s a man.”
“You should both talk and sort out your problems.”
Emma knew how to distract her. “Come tell me if I’m doing the turkey right, Suzannah.”
She let herself be distracted, and Emma was happy for the noisy family, arguing over this and that until Chad and Celia went out to see if the basketball ring over the garage could still take a workout.
To stitch them up after the rusty basket came down on their heads would be the only reason Noah showed up here today.
Her father and Megan came downstairs alone.
“Did Evelyn fall asleep?” Emma asked.
“I tried to wake her,” Brett said. “I love to show her off.”
“She’ll probably be available during dinner,” Megan said.
“Where’s Noah, Suzannah?” Brett asked. “And Owen? I saw your other two playing basketball by the garage.”
“Owen’s coming,” Suzannah said, with a desperate glance at Emma. “Noah probably had a medical emergency.” Bless Suzannah’s heart. She must have realized Brett would have a problem with Noah’s attitude toward Emma.
“I can assure you he doe
sn’t,” Emma’s father said. “You must know what I’m talking about, Suzannah.”
Emma stared from one to the other of them. Suzannah kept fiddling with the lid on the casserole that contained her sweet potato soufflé. “As a matter of fact, I do, Brett, but Emma doesn’t.” She blew an impatient breath through her bangs. “I assume you spoke to Noah? He wanted to surprise Emma with the news.”
The room went silent. The world seemed to stop spinning, but Emma couldn’t make her mind follow suit.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure.” Her father was actually blushing. Megan eyed him with shock, and Suzannah looked as if she might sink through the floor. Brett turned to Emma. “I wanted to surprise Noah, so I haven’t called him yet. I was going to tell him here.”
“Tell him what?” Emma looked from face to face to face, and not one gave anything away. “Someone needs to tell me. I don’t understand.”
“And you’re upsetting her needlessly.” Like any mom, Megan came to Emma’s side. “Noah didn’t want you to give up your house, so he asked his mother to deed the barn on their property over to the town. The council has been considering an estimate Owen put together, to see if they’d rather use that building for the clinic, and early this morning, your father got their okay. Owen persuaded them that the barn was a better place to start more from scratch. Plus, it’s closer to the interstate than you are, so it’s a better location for everyone.”
“Your barn, Suzannah? But that means you’ll have to have a new road paved into the farm.”
“I’ll be handy for people wanting lunch after they see the doctor.” Suzannah smiled broadly. “One of us needs to call Noah. He thinks he’s bringing you a gift.”
Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to see him. “I don’t trust his motives.”
A sound at the door made her turn. Owen was opening the screen. “His motives about the house?” Owen said. “He told me this place is your heart. He didn’t want you to lose the one place where you’d known unconditional love.”
Emma closed her eyes. Was she dreaming? She smelled the turkey cooking. Outside, Celia and Chad shouted abuse at each other as they played. Megan was whispering annoyed words Emma couldn’t decipher at Brett.
