by Loree Lough
“Miranda was a casualty of my can’t-say-no habit. I knew things weren’t working between us, but I didn’t know how to admit it without hurting her. I should have been up-front with her. She would have kicked me to the curb, and we wouldn’t have been together that night.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean you blame yourself for—”
“Yeah. I do. But…”
He punctuated his pause with a heavy sigh.
“But enough about me. Why did you call?”
“To make a confession. And to thank you.”
“Oh?”
“It isn’t fair to put you in the position of doling out money. You’re not my dad, and I’m too old for an allowance.”
He chuckled, giving her the courage to finish with, “So if it’s still okay with you, I’ll take your donation, all at once.” And someday, somehow, I’ll repay every dollar.
“I’m disappointed.”
Eden’s heart thumped a little harder. Had she misjudged him? Was generosity nothing but camouflage to hide his control freak tendencies?
“If I’m not delivering dollars in dribs and drabs, what excuse will I have to come to supper?”
Relief surged through her, prompting a nervous giggle. “You’re family, Nate. So you’re welcome, anytime.”
“I, ah, thanks.”
“So about this cougar,” Eden said, changing the subject. “If you’re forced to kill her, what will happen to her babies?”
“Ever hear of ‘survival of the fittest’?” Sad acceptance tinged his voice.
In other words, he didn’t expect they’d last long without their mother to feed and teach them to live and thrive in the wild. Nate’s tone also told her he took no pleasure from that fact, and it gave her a whole new reason to admire him. She had a better understanding what he was up against, every day of his life, and didn’t envy what he might have to do next.
“I’d sure hate to be in your saddle, cowboy.”
Nate laughed, and yet again, Eden’s heart fluttered.
“You sure do have a way with words. And speaking of words, here’s one for you—Thanksgiving.”
“What about it?”
“My mom gave me strict instructions to invite you and the boys to join us this year.”
Eden glanced at the calendar. “She sure does like to plan ahead, doesn’t she!”
“Yeah, that’s because the Marshall women are always looking for excuses to decorate the party barn. The more the merrier, and all that. But if you tell any of them I said that, I’ll deny it.”
“I’ve always enjoyed planning and cooking big feasts, but—”
“I get it. And I told her you might have other plans. She’ll be disappointed. We’ll all be disappointed—”
“You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say it might be nice not to have all the work and worry in the middle of a big construction project.”
“Ah, so you called my contractor?”
“I did. I’m meeting him at Pinewood next week. A formality, really, since I can already tell he’ll work magic over there.”
“When’s the walk-through?”
“Wednesday, between eleven and three.”
“Want me to meet you over there?”
“Thanks so much, Nate, but I can’t ask you to carve four hours out of your day to babysit me. Besides—”
“I hate to sound redundant, but you didn’t ask, I offered.”
She laughed quietly. “And I’ve said this before—you didn’t let me finish. The boys are going with me. I think it’ll be good for them to see the place while it’s still a mess, let them have some say in how we’ll clean it up.”
“That’s a great idea.” After a long pause, he added, “How would you feel about bringing them out to the ranch tomorrow, just for the day? Last time I was there, they said they’d like to go riding. Might want to swim a little, too. And I could show ’em how to recognize predator signs, maybe even get in a little target practice.”
“Target practice? You mean with guns?”
“That’s kinda what I had in mind, yeah. If they’re going to spend time out here, they should learn proper firearms safety, in case we ever encounter something during a trail ride.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Nate. I’m afraid if the Division of Community Relations got word that I’d allowed them to handle weapons, they’d take away my license so fast I’d need stitches to close up the paper cuts. They’d take the boys away, too, put them into foster homes and halfway houses all across the state. Then what would become of them?”
Another lengthy silence. “Man. I hadn’t given any of that a thought. Growing up out here, rifles are tools of the trade. Knowing how to shoot is as vital as knowing how to ride. But you’re right. I won’t even mention it to them.”
Relieved, Eden blew a stream of air through her teeth. “Thanks for understanding.”
“If you guys can make it tomorrow, give me a call first thing, so I can have the horses ready.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be there, probably around lunchtime.”
“Sleep well, Eden,” he said, and hung up.
Carrying her tea into the family room, Eden flipped through the channels, stopping when the you-need-kissing-by-someone-who-knows-how scene from an old classic lit up the screen. Instantly, the memory of that sweet moment with Nate came to mind. She’d liked standing in the circle of his arms. Liked the way his gentle lips had responded to hers. She could almost hear his smooth voice uttering the same words as the movie star.
Oh, she was falling for him, all right. Would she feel this way if she wasn’t?
CHAPTER TEN
EDEN WOKE LONG before her alarm rang, and after a few minutes of tossing and turning, she flipped the covers back and got up, working the kinks out of her neck and shoulders.
While Kirk and the boys took advantage of the pool, Eden had let Hank talk her into a long ride across the Double M’s acres. If she’d known her backside would protest this much, she might have said no when Nate’s sister asked how she felt about taking a seldom-used trail back to the barn.
But there wasn’t time to pamper her achy muscles. This afternoon, she and Travis would make the hour-long drive north to Fort Collins. It had taken a little finagling, but Eden had secured him a semiprivate dorm room with its own bathroom, and by tonight, he’d be pretty much settled in Piñon Hall. Just last week, she’d taken him shopping, so he could spend his graduation gift cards on clothes, a backpack, linens and a hamper, a desk lamp and alarm clock. Thanks to Nate, Travis could contribute a TV and DVD player to the shared space, and Kirk had provided a microwave. Cora donated the small fridge and coffeepot from Duke’s office, and the rest of the Latimer House boys pitched in with headphones, an assortment of cords and accessories for Eden’s old computer and printer. He’d be pleasantly surprised, she thought, to discover that she’d been stockpiling toiletries, hygiene products and a box filled with his favorite nonperishable snacks. She’d bought him an inexpensive cell phone, and right before saying goodbye, Eden would make him promise to call her at least every other day.
Soon after sunrise, she dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt and headed outside to weed the walk. She figured she had two hours before the boys woke. By then, she’d have the front yard looking shipshape.
On her hands and knees, Eden weeded between the flagstones leading to the old park bench Kirk had salvaged and refinished, then snipped spent blooms from the red-and-white impatiens that grew alongside the path.
When the deep rumble of a motorcycle grew closer, she looked up to see what inconsiderate dolt would ride a noisy vehicle in the neighborhood so early in the morning.
The rider, dressed entirely in black leather, turned into the driveway, and she recognized him instantly.
“G’mornin’,” he said, removing his helmet and aviator sunglasses. The silver chains draped from his square-toed boots clanked as he walked toward her. The man was Thomas’s father. The initial supervised meetings between father an
d son had taken place downtown, and the social worker in charge made it clear that Eden’s presence was not encouraged.
“Name’s Thomas Burke,” he said, extending a hand. “I understand you’ve been taking care of my boy.”
Most of her boys had no idea where their parents were. The few who did rarely heard from them. A good thing, in Eden’s opinion, because seeing the mom or dad who’d neglected or abandoned them could lead to major setbacks. Thomas had been with her almost as long as Travis, and despite his issues, he’d made amazing progress…until this one showed up.
The man adjusted his black-and-white do-rag. “So is Tommy here?”
She didn’t know what reason he’d have to lie about his relationship to Thomas, but Eden wasn’t taking chances. Not after learning the hard lesson taught by the father of a former resident in her care. After flashing a legitimate death certificate, Will Keegan took his son home, and within weeks of leaving, young Malik died during a gang initiation. If the department had investigated the father’s background, it never would have released Malik into his care.
“There’s no one here named Tommy.”
It seemed as though he’d suddenly taken on a great burden. Head down and shoulders slumped, he groaned quietly. And when he reached into his studded jacket, Eden flinched and gripped the handle of the garden tool tighter.
Burke produced a zipper bag filled with photos and handed it to her. “Will you give this to him? I told him about them last time we met, and he seemed interested, so…”
Eden motioned toward the bench behind her, and joined him when he sat. Something told her she had nothing to fear from this pierced-and-tattooed man. Whether or not Thomas had anything to fear remained to be seen.
She went through the photos, and Burke explained when and where each had been taken: Thomas in a striped hospital nursery cap, moments after birth. Thomas with his arms akimbo, learning to walk. Thomas grinning and showing off his first baby tooth. Burke appeared in many of the photos, and in some, so did a pretty, sad-eyed young woman.
“Thomas’s mother?” Eden asked.
“Yeah, that’s Nicole. I guess you already know what happened to her.”
Unfortunately, she did. Thomas’s mother had been sentenced to life without parole for the murder of her drug dealer, who’d turned her into his one-woman mule. She’d continued distributing drugs while incarcerated, and when a deal went wrong, she paid with her life. According to Thomas’s file, Burke served time, too, for the use and distribution of drugs and for neglecting his son.
The Latimer House boys had a chance to take different roads than their parents had. Thomas was on the right track so far…as long as his father didn’t divert him.
“Guess you’re wondering where I’ve been since getting out of jail.”
She was holding Thomas’s baptismal certificate, proof that at some point in his early years, one or both of his parents wanted their son to live a normal, happy life. Yes, Eden wondered where Burke had been, but the better question was, what went wrong in the first place?
Burke began telling her how Nicole met a man more than twice her age, who left his wife of twenty years to run off with her. And Burke—hurt, humiliated, angry and overwhelmed by the day-to-day pressures of raising a toddler all on his own—found solace at the bottom of a bottle. Next thing he knew, Thomas was in foster care and he was in the county jail. Upon his release, he swore to clean up his act. Unfortunately, he continued, little changed, except that he swapped whiskey for beer and pills, which were cheaper and didn’t make him so mean. His third DUI arrest would have put him away for years, so he jumped bail and ran off to Alaska, where he signed on as a big-equipment operator with a gold mining crew. While recovering from a near-fatal on-the-job accident, he read an article about recidivism, which included a sidebar about the large percentage of children who ended up like their parents—or worse.
“It made me realize what a mess I’d made of my life…and Tommy’s. So I came home, turned myself in, and when I got out that time, I got clean and stayed that way.” He looked Eden in the eyes. “Earned my two-year chip a few months back. Got a job and a decent place for me an’ Tommy, I mean Thomas, to live. I figure there’s a lot to make up for and not a lot of time to do it. But I aim to try.”
For his sake and Thomas’s, Eden wanted to believe him. But she’d been fooled before by the seemingly sincere promises of parents and guardians.
She started to hand him the photos.
“No, I told you, Thomas asked to see them. Maybe they’ll bring back some good memories and he won’t be so opposed to visits with me.”
“You were honest with me, Mr. Burke, so I feel it’s only fair to tell you the truth. It isn’t likely the state will deny your request to visit with Thomas, but there are no guarantees where full-time custody is concerned. If you’re serious, you’ll have to do this by the book.” She paused and gave him a hard stare. “I’d hate to see Thomas lose all the ground he’s gained, looking at these pictures and dreaming of something that might never happen, or that it might be taken out from under him if it does.”
Eden thought it odd that Burke hadn’t asked one question about Thomas. Didn’t he want to know the details of his son’s life at Latimer House? If he was healthy and fit? If he got good grades and stayed out of trouble?
“I’m curious,” she said, “about how you found Thomas. It was my understanding that you made no attempt to stay in touch, all those years you were…away.”
Standing, Burke said, “Man makes a lot of useful friends on the inside.” He handed her a slip of paper. “That’s my contact information at home and at work. Will you call me if Thomas wants to see me?” It was his turn to pause. “Or even…even if he doesn’t?”
What could she say, except, “All right.”
He held out his hand and, getting to her feet, Eden put hers into it, hoping she hadn’t just struck a deal with the devil.
*
EDEN AND SHAMUS were sipping iced tea and engaged in a lively conversation when Nate pulled into the driveway. And since she’d sworn him to secrecy about their deal, Nate didn’t mention that he’d stopped by to deliver the cash—every penny she’d need to remodel Pinewood. After exchanging pleasantries, Eden stepped inside to get him a glass while Nate slid a rocking chair closer to theirs.
“So did you get Travis all set up in his dorm room?” he asked when she returned.
“As set up as I could get him.” A feeble smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “He had pretty strong ideas about where and how to stow his things.”
Nate reached across the space that separated them and patted her hand. “That’s a good thing.” And when her brow quirked, he added, “It’s proof you taught him to think for himself.”
“I suppose.”
And Nate supposed it was only normal that she seemed a little subdued. Having lived under the same roof with the kid for years, helping him cope with disappointment and celebrate success, she wouldn’t be Eden if she didn’t miss him.
But something more was going on here, as evidenced by the mood shift between her and Shamus.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt you guys,” Nate said.
“You didn’t interrupt anything.” Shamus clucked his tongue. “I just wish you’d shown up half an hour ago. Maybe that bonehead Brett Michaels would have driven right on by if he’d seen your truck.”
Nate glanced at Eden, who sighed quietly.
“What did he want this time?” His mind was reeling.
“Well, he wasn’t too pleased to see me here, let me tell you,” Shamus said, “’cause he knows I’m not impressed with his peacock strut.” Shamus growled before adding, “I know he owns the place, but for cryin’ out loud, if a man can’t smell his own BO, he can’t get upset when nobody wants to rub elbows with him.”
Eden had told Nate about the older man’s tendency to mix metaphors. He had to admit, it could be pretty funny…if a person could untangle the message. Nate wasn’t the least bit amuse
d, though, that Michaels still felt entitled to come and go as he pleased. One day soon, Eden could tell the guy he could do whatever he wanted with this old rattletrap, because she was leaving it for good.
“I take it he’s stopping by more than usual?”
“Don’t ask her,” Shamus spouted. “She’s too nice to give you the down and dirty.” Leaning an elbow on his knee, he said, “Back in Korea, we had ways of dealing with guys like Michaels.”
Nate wasn’t about to ask what those ways might be, not in front of Eden, anyway. He liked Shamus, and appreciated that the old guy looked out for her.
“I called to tell him the dryer finally died,” Eden said, “and he brought a friend by who fiddled with the innards in hopes of nursing it along for a few more loads. But the fix didn’t hold, so I had to call him again.”
“And the bum won’t give her a straight answer about replacing it,” Shamus said.
“You’ll need a dryer at Pinewood. Why not buy one now, and move it over there once the renovations are done?”
“I thought of that,” she said tentatively, “but I was hoping to leave this place—and everything in it—and just start fresh.”
The older man drained the last of his iced tea and put the tumbler down with a thump. “Well, I’d better get back. Tomatoes are fallin’ off the vines, I tell you, off the vines!” He gave Nate’s shoulder a fatherly squeeze, and leaned in close to whisper, “Something more than that confounded dryer is eating her, but darned if I can figure out what. See if you can get anything outta her.”
After hugging Eden, he was on his way.
“He must think my hearing is defective,” she said when he drove off.
“Well? Is he wrong? Or is something eating you?”
Eden looked around, then held out her hand. Nate was only too happy to take it and let her lead him to the bench beneath the big maple.
“I had a visitor this morning,” she began. “Thomas’s father.”
He remembered the boys saying that for days after the supervised visits, the kid was tough to handle.
