A Real Live Hero

by Kimberly Van Meter

  Miranda looked to Trace, frustrated. “What are we going to do? Hog-tie her and throw her in the backseat?”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Jennelle gasped, outraged that Miranda would speak so casually about doing something so horrendous to her own mother. But then why was she surprised? Miranda had always been rough around the edges, just like her damn father. But as mad as Miranda was, Jennelle didn’t know if she wouldn’t try to do just that. She wouldn’t put it past Miranda to do a late-night check and then haul her out by her hair. Jennelle forced herself to appear as if she were settling down, when in fact she was still so angry. But she’d do anything to get away from her rotten children. “I will stay with Florence. I’m sure she’ll take me in for the night until I can get this mess settled,” she said stiffly.

  “Florence would be a good choice,” Miranda agreed, then added under her breath, “If she’ll take you.”

  “She is a good friend. Once she hears that I’ve been kicked out of my house by my own children, I’m sure I’ll get the assistance I need.”

  “Great,” Trace said, glad to have a solution and completely ignoring the sarcasm in Jennelle’s voice. “We’ll get this figured out and then you’ll see that we’re doing this for your own good.”

  “Not likely,” Jennelle disagreed, not interested in discussing the merits of their actions. Her gaze followed the officers removing the many plants Zed had so carefully tended, and although she wasn’t sorry to see them go, she was mortified for her husband’s treatment. “Now, Trace, you will need to take me to the police station so I can bail out your father.”

  “Okay,” he said, sharing a glance with Miranda—the two conspirators. “Do you need to grab anything from the house?”

  Jennelle paused, indeed wishing she had some personal items, but when she realized how much effort it would take to procure those belongings, she lifted her chin and proclaimed she needed only a toothbrush, which she could buy in town. Then, she walked past Trace as if he were not her son but simply her driver.

  Because in her heart, that’s where he’d been relegated.

  As for her daughter? She no longer had two daughters.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, as Trace and Delainey prepared for Harlan’s funeral and wake, the silence between them was fraught with personal troubles as each privately processed the most recent events. Trace had more than enough to keep him preoccupied, and yet with everything that had happened, in the back of his mind he struggled with the knowledge that Delainey’s time in Alaska was rapidly drawing to a close. The shoot was nearly finished, and all that remained were a few last-minute add-on shots that Trevor had suggested and Delainey had agreed on. He wasn’t sure if she’d agreed because she truly believed they needed the footage or if she was trying to stay a little longer. He hoped it was the latter. He hated to think he was the only one struggling with saying goodbye.

  Delainey came over and helped him with his tie, straightening it gently before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips. “Your mom can’t stay mad at you forever, right?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. According to Miranda, she’s a hell of a grudge-keeper. I’ve never seen her so mad. I felt like shit doing that to her, but that house...it’s beyond belief.”

  “You know she needs professional help. It’s not going to get better just because you say it will. She doesn’t believe there’s a problem. And your dad, well, he’s going to face criminal charges. How much was the bail?”

  “Five thousand,” he answered grimly.

  “Did your mom pay it?”

  “No. She didn’t have the money and I told her I didn’t, either.”

  “Why’d you lie?” she asked.

  “Because I wasn’t about to spend good money on a man who’d already given up on life. If I need to spend that kind of money on my parents, it’ll be to help my mom get better. Besides, he’s safe in jail and he doesn’t have access to his pot. Maybe he’ll start thinking clearly for the first time in eight years.”

  Delainey nodded with understanding. “I always remember your parents being so nice. Your mom taught me how to make strawberry freezer jam. I still use her recipe to this day. And your dad...he may well have changed my life all those years ago. I don’t know what he said to my dad, but he stopped beating me after that one visit from Zed. I’ll always be grateful for that, and you know what? I think my dad, in his own way, was thankful someone else had called him on the carpet for his behavior, because he respected your dad and never said a word against him. It’s hard to reconcile the reality of your parents today with who I remember them to be.”

  “You and me both. We never could’ve imagined that Simone’s death was going to rip us all apart.”

  She quieted, slowly smoothing his tie before stopping to regard him with tears in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have abandoned you like I did when Simone died. I was a stupid, naive girl who didn’t realize the damage that was being done. Can you ever forgive me?”

  He traced her jawline, loving her so much it hurt. “I forgave you a long time ago. I didn’t realize how selfish I was being when I assumed you wanted a life here with me. I didn’t understand how it wasn’t enough for you.”

  “Oh, Trace...I wish it had been enough. I really do. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine my life with you and I feel stuffed with happiness. But then I think of my career and how I would have to give up everything I ever dreamed of, and that happiness drains away. I don’t want to resent you and I don’t want to hate myself. I wish there was another way, but I don’t see how it all works out.”

  “I know,” he agreed, knowing there were no easy answers for either of them. He kissed her forehead and exhaled a long breath. “What time is the funeral?” he asked, putting an end to the conversation before they both fell into a morose quagmire.

  She wiped at her nose. “Ten. We need to leave in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded bravely. “I think I am. Because of you.”

  “No, you’re a strong woman. You’d have been fine without me.”

  She shook her head resolutely. “No. Without you I wouldn’t have made it. You’re my strength, Trace Sinclair, and it’s high time I admit that. Your love makes me strong. Even if you’re not with me. Thank you for being you. Always.”

  His eyes stung and he had to look away before he embarrassed himself by bawling. How had fate dealt them such an unfair hand? To know that they were meant for one another and yet fated to live apart? How was he supposed to move on? Meet someone else? His heart was permanently branded with Delainey’s ownership, and it felt right.

  It was the only thing that felt right these days.

  So why was it ultimately wrong?

  * * *

  THE NEXT FEW HOURS Delainey floated through her father’s funeral and wake in a surreal fog. It hardly seemed possible her father was dead. How many times as a teenager had she wished for his boat to sink so she’d never have to see him again? Too many to count.

  She smiled and murmured her thanks and appreciation as a multitude of people offered their condolences for her and Thad’s loss, but she was on autopilot, smiling when appropriate and accepting well-meaning hugs and handshakes from strangers and a few people she remembered from her distant past. It was so odd to her to hear the stories of her father that directly contradicted everything she’d known of him when she was a child. Hearing what a good man he was struck a discordant chord, one that she had difficulty hiding.

  “It’s a good thing you work behind the camera,” Trace murmured against her ear. “Because you are a terrible actress.”

  She supposed that was accurate. “It’s hard,” she said, moving over to a private spot ostensibly to grab a few bites to eat. “It’s as if they’re talking about a man I never knew.”

  �
��I’d say that’s probably true. The man they’re mourning isn’t the man who raised you,” he said. “But I guess you need to get to the point where you can accept that he’d changed and let that be your new reality.”

  “And I’d say that’s impossible.”

  A tiny smile curved his lips that made her want to kiss him...or slap him. She did neither. “It’s unfair of me to begrudge them their memory even if it doesn’t jibe with mine, right?”

  “Something like that.”

  How had Trace become so wise when she’d somehow remained stagnant? “I really appreciate you being here with me right now. I can only imagine what you’re going through with your own parents. It sucks all the way around.”

  “Yeah, it does,” he agreed. “But you can’t fix a problem by ignoring it.”

  “So they say,” she quipped drily. “But maybe the people who said that little nugget of advice weren’t doing it correctly.”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps.” He popped a cherry tomato in his mouth. “About that strawberry jam... If I bought the strawberries, would you make me some? I haven’t had my mom’s jam in years. I was plain addicted to it.”

  “Why do you think I learned how to make it?” she answered back with a coy smile. The venue was inappropriate for anything but mourning, but why was he becoming even more handsome than before? Dressed in his Sunday best, he looked sharp and clean, which made her want to get dirty right that second. “I wish I could kiss you right now,” she said.

  His gaze darkened and an awareness stole across her body. “There isn’t a moment that goes by that I don’t want to do wicked things to you,” he said for her ears only. She bit her lip and grinned, her heartbeat quickening. “Later,” he promised, and she followed him with her gaze as he returned to the gathered people, talking with folks he knew and otherwise playing the host so she could collect herself.

  Thad joined her, grabbing a plate and loading up before the food was all gone. Her boyishly good-looking brother seemed more grown-up than he had before. When she’d left, he’d been a kid. Now, he was in charge of their father’s fishing operation. “You did a good job with the arrangements,” she said to her brother.

  He shrugged off her compliment, saying, “Pops did all the work, and I just put it into play. He knew this was coming and didn’t want anyone, especially Brenda, to be stressed over it.”

  “He really loved her, didn’t he?” she mused. Thad nodded. Delainey wished she’d seen them together in better times just once. Maybe that would’ve helped her to see how he’d changed. “She’s a good woman.”

  “Brenda is...a very good woman. I wasn’t sure about her at first, but to know Brenda is to love her. I think Pops never realized how to live until Brenda came around to show him. She brightened his life. I wish you could’ve known her sooner.”

  “Me, too.”

  Silence followed for a long moment until Thad asked, “So, after everything...you still planning to go back to California?”

  It was a loaded question and the answer brought a lot of pain, but she wasn’t going to lie. “My life is in California now. My career...everything I care about...” No, that part wasn’t true. Most of everything she cared about was here. She looked away, buffeted by recent events. “I don’t know, Thad. Seems much simpler to go back to the way things were. People won’t get hurt that way.”

  “Who won’t get hurt?” he asked but didn’t give her a chance to answer. “I think you’re running away again because you don’t want to get hurt. It’s all right, Laney. Just fess up. Own it. You’re afraid of what being here might mean, not to your career but to your heart. You left behind a lot when you split. I think you want to run away because it hurts to be reminded.”

  “Thad, you don’t understand. It’s complicated,” she said but then stopped. Who was she trying to convince? Her brother could plainly see through her excuses, and she was doing them both a disservice by continuing to blather on about nothing that mattered. She barked a short, embarrassed laugh. “You caught me. I am scared. What if Trace and I weren’t meant to be together and I throw everything away on something that isn’t built to last? I have a lot to lose, and there are no do-overs.”

  “Seems to me you have more to gain if it works out,” Thad pointed out. “I’m just saying...you love him. Shouldn’t that make things pretty simple? It would for me.”

  Something in Thad’s voice caused her to regard him with surprise. “Are you dating anyone special?” she asked, embarrassed that she knew so little of her brother’s personal life.

  “No,” he answered, shaking his head. “But I know if there were someone who loved me the way Trace loves you...nothing would stand in my way. Nothing.”

  She stared, unable to believe the words coming from her baby brother. “How’d you get so smart?” she asked.

  A small grin crooked his mouth and he shrugged. “I may not have been a great student in school, but I pay attention to what matters.”

  That you do, little brother. She pulled him into a fierce hug. “I love you, Thad.”

  “I love you, too, Laney.”

  As they broke apart and Thad returned to mingle with the guests, Delainey hung back and closed her eyes. She wished she could follow Thad’s advice. But there was a part of her that stubbornly refused to yield—a spark of fire that burned dangerously hot to the touch and resisted any attempts to put it out. And it was that part of herself that knew as much as she wanted to stay and build a life with Trace, she would board that plane back to California, no matter how much it hurt.

  Because her ambition was like a hungry beast and it would devour Trace if he stood in its way. She could never hurt him like that—it’s one of the reasons she’d left in the first place. And nothing had really changed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “SORRY, ZED, seems like no one is bailing you out,” Eddie Polk, a longtime officer, said with an expression of chagrin.

  He’d been hauled in kicking and screaming, outrage outstripping good sense, but sitting in a cell for a few hours had managed to cool his rage, leaving behind regret and the knowledge that he’d let things spiral out of control for too long. Zed had known Eddie for near thirty years, and it was an embarrassment to be sitting on the other side of the bars. But what was done, was done. He supposed he had it coming, but it was a sour pill to swallow just the same.

  “You need anything? We have extra blankets if you need,” Eddie asked.

  “I’m good,” Zed said, settling against the wall on his narrow bed. “Thanks for asking.”

  “No problem, Zed. You holler if you need anything. I’m sure you’re going to be let out soon enough.”

  Zed nodded and closed his eyes. He could feel the last trace of THC leaving his body, and total sobriety wouldn’t be far behind. How long had it been since he’d been completely sober? He couldn’t remember. He’d always enjoyed a little recreational marijuana use, which Jennelle had tolerated. But after Simone had died, he’d gone from using recreationally to using it to get through the day. And once he was stoned all the time, he couldn’t carve for shit and needed a new source of income. He rubbed at his eyes, wondering how things had gotten so sidewise so quickly. Shame and regret flooded his old bones, and he felt older than his actual years.

  He must’ve dozed off because he awoke with a start when a familiar voice started insulting him.

  “Look at you...you look like hell. Wake up, you sorry drug addict.” Rhett Fowler, a man he’d once considered his best friend, stood glaring at him from the other side of the bars, plainly disgusted with what he saw.

  “What do you want?” Zed asked, not interested in hearing Rhett’s opinion of the situation. “Come to gloat?”

  “Oh, get over yourself. I’ve come to bail your ass out.”

  Zed stared at his old friend. “What for?”

  “Damn
if I know,” Rhett grumbled. “But I’ve come to bail you out just the same. Unless you’re enjoying your stay at the Homer Community Jail. If that’s the case, I’ll just collect my five grand and leave you be.” Rhett’s gaze swept the small jail cell, resting on the toilet, and he shuddered. “Make your choice.”

  A part of him was resigned to sitting in his cell as a penance for letting his family down, but another part of him was anxious to see just how bad the damage was to his pot garden. It was the latter that scared him. “I think I’ll stay,” he answered slowly, realizing it was the best, if not desirable, choice.

  Rhett narrowed his stare at his old friend. “Why?”

  “Because this is where I need to be right now.”

  “You don’t trust yourself, do you?” Rhett said with a sad shake of his head. “Zed, you’ve got yourself a real bad addiction. What are you going to do about it? You can’t stay locked in this cell forever. Your family needs you. Your wife needs you most.”

  “Jennelle ask you to bail me out?”

  “She did. What’s this about her getting kicked out of the house?”

  “I don’t know...something about the house being condemned until further notice,” Zed answered, shifting with guilt. He’d known how bad the conditions were, and yet he’d allowed his wife to continue living in it. “Jennelle has a problem with keeping stuff,” he admitted evasively, not wanting to go into detail. “I moved out of the main house several months ago, and I’ve been staying in the garage. I made a makeshift living quarters inside the garage.”

  “That’s not the only thing you made in your garage,” Rhett said, whistling. “Word is that the cops collected a pretty big pot garden from your garage.”

  What was the sense in lying? He nodded. “It’s true.”

  “What happened to you, Zed? We used to enjoy a toke now and then, but this? This is out of control. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, I know it,” he shot back, irritated. “I don’t need you to tell me how I’ve screwed up.”