Going Home (Nugget Romance 1)

by Stacy Finz

Rhys drove slowly, occasionally shouting his father’s name out the window. The road dead-ended at the top of the hill, where a fire trail led into the forest. In Shep’s younger days he’d hiked the trail a hundred times.

  The snow came down harder now, and the wind whipped flurries against his windshield, making it difficult to see. Rhys pulled over to the shoulder, got out and examined the ground for fresh prints. He walked to the other side of the road, where he peered down an embankment and called his father’s name.

  Soon it would be dark and even colder. If Shep had fallen down the ravine or had become so fuzzy that he’d gotten lost in the woods it could take hours, even days, to find him.

  Rhys rubbed his hand over his face, cursing himself. He should’ve prepared for something like this—made Shep wear a damn tracking device. Back when he was in uniform, he’d spent a whole day once searching Houston’s downtown tunnel system for an old lady suffering from dementia. It had been summer, dripping wet with humidity, and he’d finally found her, dehydrated and passed out on a bench. When the woman came to, she couldn’t even remember her name.

  As soon as he got Shep back, he’d put a freakin’ cowbell around the old man’s neck. It would serve him right for disappearing on him.

  For being a shit father.

  While climbing to the end of the road Rhys flashed on the summer before he went to high school. A group of the popular boys had shown up at his house at bedtime to kidnap him. It was a harmless game they played—snatching someone, taking him into the woods, so they could camp out, telling ghost stories all night. He’d always suspected that Clay had arranged it to help Rhys’s social standing. But when the kids knocked on his door, Shep came out in his underwear and fired a shotgun into the air. The boys ran off while Rhys cowered in a corner from humiliation.

  Several days later, out of the blue, Shep said, “Those kids were up to no good. They would’ve hurt you.”

  Rhys looked up at the sky and down at his watch. At most he had two hours of daylight left.

  Where the hell are you, Shep?

  He stared out over the mountains for as far as he could see. Nothing but trees. He hiked the fire trail for about a mile before the path became too overgrown to continue. “Pop,” he shouted, hearing his voice echo through the forest.

  It was possible that Shep had headed to the main road and taken his old route to the railroad station. But Maddy hadn’t seen him when she drove in. Just the same, Rhys started back down the hill. He was halfway to his truck when his cell phone rang.

  He grabbed it from his pocket. “Hello.”

  “I found him,” Maddy said.

  Rhys dropped his head to his chest.

  “You there?”

  “Yeah.” He took a moment to send up a silent prayer of gratitude and to pull himself together. “He okay?”

  “He’s fine. He’s at Colin Burke’s place. I was almost at his house when Colin called. He doesn’t have your number. I’m here now, so I’ll bring him home.”

  “Hey, Maddy . . . Let me do it, okay?”

  A few minutes later he pulled up to the house number Maddy had given him. Although the chalet-style log cabin was still under construction, its grandeur floored him. The striking stonework and mammoth picture windows reminded him a little of the houses in Sierra Heights, but more tasteful.

  Before he could knock on the door, Colin pulled it open and grunted a greeting. “He’s in the kitchen eating,” he said.

  Rhys wiped his boots on the scraper and entered the massive foyer, running his palm over hand-hewn logs, dovetailed at the corners. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

  “Thanks.”

  Maddy had been right, Colin’s work was incredible. But how could a guy who made his living selling rocking chairs and who took on the occasional carpentry job afford a place like this? The front room with its enormous stone fireplace and sweeping views of the Sierra made him catch his breath.

  “Wow.” Rhys stopped to stare up at the skyscraper-high ceilings.

  Colin stood stiffly in the corner waiting for Rhys to get his fill. Not much of a talker, Rhys observed.

  “Sorry about the inconvenience with my dad,” he said as he followed Colin into an equally breathtaking dining room, which had been set up as a temporary work space with sawhorses and tools.

  “No problem. Um . . . he seems a little confused, though. Keeps calling me Rhys.”

  “He’s got Alzheimer’s,” Rhys said.

  Colin just nodded his head, like he didn’t quite know how to react.

  When they got into the kitchen—a shell without cabinets and an old stove that appeared temporary—Rhys found Shep hunched over a farm table, bundled in a couple of heavy blankets, eating.

  “He was really cold,” Colin said.

  “Hey, Pop.”

  Shep gave him a cursory glance and went back to eating his chili.

  “Mind if I borrow those blankets?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thanks for taking him in and feeding him.” Rhys turned from Colin and dropped to his haunches beside Shep’s chair. “You ready to go, Pop?”

  “Okay, Rhys.” Shep stood up.

  “Looks like you’re missing a slipper.” Rhys pointed at Shep’s bare foot.

  Shep looked down, puzzled. “Must’ve lost it,” he mumbled.

  Rhys put an arm around his father’s shoulder and led him to the front door. “That’s okay. I’ll get you another one.”

  Always keep your feet and head warm, boy. It’ll prevent you from getting sick. His father’s words suddenly popped into Rhys’s head. Wisdom to live by.

  Rhys had been eight years old, running around the house in the dead of winter in his bare feet.

  Shep had gone into his bedroom and pulled a pair of woolen socks from his bureau drawer. “Put these on, boy.”

  Rhys had slipped into the worn socks, liking the way the fleece lining had instantly warmed his too-small feet.

  “You keep ’em,” Shep had said.

  Twenty-eight years later and Rhys still had them.

  Maddy waited on the porch for them to get home and held the front door open as Rhys carried Shep into the house. He continued directly to the bedroom.

  She sat on the couch in case he needed her for anything, thought about making coffee, but didn’t know how she’d get to the kitchen without intruding on them. In the bedroom she could hear Rhys rustling around, dresser drawers being opened and closed, bedsprings squeaking and him murmuring for Shep to get some sleep. Finally, Rhys wandered back into the living room, a grim expression on his face.

  “He okay?” she asked.

  Rhys rubbed his temples. “Yeah.”

  “How about you? You okay?” She gave him a sympathetic smile.

  “Yeah. Thanks for helping me find him.” He sneezed and walked over to the thermostat, turning the dial up to sixty-nine degrees.

  “Come sit down, Rhys. You look tired. You want me to make you some tea?”

  He shook his head. “Need to call the station . . . weather’s bad.”

  “You can take a little break first.” She got up, steered him to the sofa, and pushed him down. “It was a little scare, Rhys. That’s all.”

  Rhys just nodded as he stared off into space.

  Maddy pulled the zipper down on his jacket. “Get this off. It’s wet and you’re catching a cold.” He sat very still as she tugged the parka off him.

  Maddy hung it on the coatrack by the door to dry and grabbed a blanket off his bed to drape over Rhys’s shoulders. “Better?”

  Rhys rested his face in the palm of his hands. “God, I screwed up.”

  She sat on the floor facing him. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself? Really, Rhys, how’d you screw up?”

  He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I yelled at him. I let him get under my skin.”

  “You think that’s why he took off?” she asked skeptically.

  “I don’t know. But I wasn’t paying enough attention. I
t was my day off. I wanted to get the lights done and I didn’t want to put up with his shit.” Rhys took the blanket off, laying it down on the couch next to him. “I should’ve been watching him better. When I think about how badly this could’ve ended—” He broke off with a muttered curse.

  “Rhys, it’s impossible to keep an eye on him at all times. You’re doing the best you can.” She squeezed his knee. “You’re a good son.”

  Rhys looked away and Maddy got the impression that he was embarrassed. He got up, walked over to Shep’s bedroom, and opened the door a crack. His father was sound asleep. He walked over to the hall table, picked up the phone, and dialed.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, pacing the room, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. “Send Wyatt out to the car accident and Jake to the drunk in public—he’s better equipped to deal with that sort of thing. You sure you don’t need me to come in, Connie?”

  Maddy started for the door, but Rhys waved his hand to stop her. When he hung up the phone he gazed at her and simply said, “Stay.”

  They tiptoed through Shep’s bedroom to the kitchen to rustle up a couple of sandwiches and went back into the living room to eat. Maddy noticed that he kept his cell, the cordless, and a police radio with him at all times.

  She pointed at the assemblage of electronics. “That much crime in Nugget?”

  “If you would’ve asked me before I took the job, I would’ve laughed,” he said. “But unfortunately this town has grown up . . . I’ve got a methamphetamine manufacturer on the loose and the lure of an empty subdivision.”

  He told her about his high school friend, Mini, and her domestic violence case.

  “You think she’ll really take those anger management courses?” she asked.

  “Maybe.” But he looked doubtful. “Unfortunately, hitting and fighting is all she’s ever known.”

  “Is that why you left?” Maddy suspected that besides Shep neglecting Rhys, there might’ve been abuse. Maybe she was getting too personal, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “It wasn’t like that so much,” he said, his voice distant. “Shep was tough. But mostly I never felt like I belonged here. I used to think that if I traveled, saw the country, there’d be a place that spoke to me. A place that instantly felt right . . . like home.”

  “Not Houston?” Maddy asked.

  “No,” he said regretfully. “But it’s better than here. How ’bout you, Maddy Breyer? Where’s home?” His eyes traveled over her, and a spark of awareness slithered down her spine.

  Their legs touched and even through the denim, Maddy could feel his heat. She remembered how nice it had been that first time she’d snuggled against him on the glider and was tempted to move closer. Curl up in those strong arms. The shadow of dark stubble that covered his jawline made her ache to feel it against her face.

  But Rhys instantly moved away from her, putting up an invisible wall. Maybe he was still traumatized by Shep taking off. Maddy didn’t know. Still, she missed having his hands all over her.

  So instead, she stammered an answer to his question. “Nugget for now.” Maddy wrung her hands. “But if the Addisons have their way I’ll be out on my ass.”

  “What’s going on with your expert?”

  “He just started. But, if he says the Addisons are right, I don’t know what we’ll do. It’s not like we have enough money to upgrade the whole system.”

  Rhys reached for her hand and covered it with his much larger one. And that powerful attraction she’d been feeling for him pulled at her. “It’ll be okay, Maddy.” He dipped his head slightly.

  She thought he’d kiss her, even half closed her eyes in anticipation. But he got up from the couch and looked in on his dad.

  Feeling a whole lot awkward, she said, “I better get home.”

  As Maddy gathered up her coat, Lina walked in the door, covered in snow.

  “It’s cold.” She shivered, looking from Maddy to Rhys. “What’s wrong? Is Papa okay?” She rushed to Shep’s bedroom door, but Rhys stopped her before she could go in.

  “He’s sleeping,” he said, and Maddy frowned at how short Rhys sounded.

  “Is that a new coat?” Maddy asked her. It was purple and fitted, with a snazzy little belt and a fur-trimmed hood.

  Lina nodded, looking down at it proudly. “It’s from Rhys.”

  “You picked that out?” she asked, not even trying to disguise her surprise.

  “No. I just paid for it,” he said gruffly.

  “Well, it’s very pretty.” She got to her feet and Rhys went to walk her out.

  “We need to have a conversation when I get back,” he told Lina. Maddy wished he was a little softer with his sister.

  When they got to her door, he stood there, hands jammed in his pockets, rocking on his heels. They both talked at the same time, sputtering until he said, “You first.”

  She lightly touched the sleeve of his jacket. “Today with Shep wasn’t your fault, Rhys. What you’re doing for your dad is incredibly selfless. But even with Lina, it’s an overwhelming job. I’m your friend, let me help, okay?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Thanks.”

  She smiled up at him. “What were you about to say before?”

  “I forgot.” He looked away and backed up. “See you in the morning, Maddy.”

  She started to reach for his arm, stopped herself, and went inside the house.

  Rhys had nearly asked Maddy about Paris. Whether she intended to go. It’d be a stupid move, if you asked him. But she hadn’t. And right now he had more important things to think about anyway. Like what the hell to do with Shep?

  He found Lina in the kitchen, standing over the stove, stirring something. “You making dinner?”

  “Mmm hmm.” She barely looked at him.

  “Shep took off,” Rhys started. “I turned my back on him for five minutes, maybe ten at the most, and he was gone. Maddy found him at a house up on Grizzly Peak. He thought the owner was me.”

  Lina turned down the flame and sat at the table. “Why didn’t you call me?” Her phone sat on the kitchen counter and she reached for it, checking for messages.

  Rhys tilted his head to look at her. The resemblance between them really was uncanny. Same deep-set eyes, same indentations at the bridge of their noses, same pronounced cheekbones. The most distinct differences that Rhys could tell were the shapes of their faces—his square, hers heart-shaped—and she was a tiny little thing.

  Rhys glanced at his watch, glad that he had at least an hour before Sam got home. Clay said he’d take the boys out for supper after practice.

  “Lina,” he said as gently as possible, “he’s getting worse.”

  The other day Rhys stood in the kitchen while Shep struggled to make a sandwich, confused by how to layer the meat and bread. Even before that, he had found him sitting with the television remote control in his hand, stymied by how to change the channels. It had been tough for Rhys to watch. The old man was a prick, but he’d always been a self-sufficient one. “Today, if he’d fallen down an embankment, or gotten lost in the woods . . . Jesus, he wasn’t even wearing a jacket.”

  Rhys paused, trying to choose his words. “We can’t watch him twenty-four hours a—”

  “I can,” Lina interjected. “If I had been here, this would not have happened.”

  He flinched. “Maybe not, but he needs professional care. He needs to be in a place where they can help him use the bathroom, the shower.”

  “No voy a tener a mi padre en uno de los lugares—con extraños.”

  “Lina,” he said. “Your English is better than my Spanish.”

  “No. I will not put him in one of those homes, to live with strangers.”

  Pretty soon Shep wouldn’t know the difference. “This could go on for years. You’re only seventeen years old . . . there’s college . . . a whole life ahead of you.”

  “What do you care?” she spat. “You hate us and you hate him.”

  “I don’t hate you. I har
dly know you.” Rhys got up and started pacing the room. “Ah, Lina, don’t cry . . . Okay, okay, we’ll see what the doctor says. Come on, now.”

  He went to pat her, give her a quick, reassuring squeeze, but she threw herself into his arms and buried her face in his shirt, sobbing. Something besides empathy and protectiveness sparked inside of him. It was more like an indefinable bond. And in that instant, maybe for a quarter of a beat, he reveled in the resounding connection he felt with this girl, which only made him resent Shep more.

  Chapter 14

  A hearing was imminent. The Addisons had whipped the town into such a frenzy over the inn, that the city council had been pressured to put the matter on its meeting agenda. At least with Christmas coming up, town officials had tabled the issue until after the New Year, which gave Maddy and Nate time to build a case—and if need be, serve the city with a lawsuit.

  In the meantime, the Addisons’ “Flush the Lumber Baron” campaign had moved beyond the square. One of their repugnant banners swung over the Nugget Market like Old Glory rippling in the wind.

  “Ethel, I thought you were in my court,” Maddy huffed in despair. Because if the few friends she had in this town were against her, then she really was in deep doo-doo.

  Ethel stood in the parking lot, staring up at the sign, shaking her head. “I told Stu not to put that thing up. I’m sorry, hon. What can I say, he’s convinced that your twenty rooms are going to back up the system and we’ll all be swimming in sewage.”

  “Where is he?” Maddy marched into the store and found him behind the butcher counter.

  “Stu, I’m really, really disappointed in you,” she barked, noticing that shoppers had stopped pushing their carts in the meat aisle so they could listen. Let them get an earful! “I can’t believe you’re buying those Addisons’ line of bull. Do you know how much business the Lumber Baron will bring this town, your store? Our guests will be wanting everything from suntan lotion and sundries to sandwiches and sodas. Not to mention that we’ll be buying our ingredients here for our continental breakfasts and snacks for the rooms.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Stu said, holding up his hands. “I like you Maddy, and I want the business. But this waste issue concerns me. A new system could cost millions and the city can’t afford it.”