The Hero’s Sin

by Darlene Gardner

Not getting a chance to stick up for himself and explain his determination to turn his life around had rankled, making Michael more resolute than ever to pursue the man’s daughter.

  He used to wait near the big oak tree in the backyard for Chrissy to sneak out of the house. She’d been more sexually experienced than Michael so he never felt like he was taking advantage of her. One time they’d done it under the tree with the full moon shining down on them.

  A part of him had hoped Coleman would look out his bedroom window that night and catch them in the act.

  Michael had grown up in the last nine years, but enough of that teenage defiance remained that he stood straight and proud on the porch steps he’d been told never again to cross.

  He rang the doorbell once more, pressing for a full ten seconds. No answer. Michael still wasn’t prepared to concede that Coleman wasn’t home.

  Determination fueling his steps, he left the porch and circled the house. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He’d learned you couldn’t solve a problem by skulking in the shadows. The only way to tackle one was head-on.

  The spacious backyard extended into a thicket of woods. It was as deserted as the front, but bits of grass stuck to the bottoms of Michael’s shoes and the lawn had that just-mowed smell. A sidewalk led from the rear porch to a detached garage a good distance from the main house.

  Michael had a side view of the garage but could see Coleman’s silver Cadillac parked in the driveway. He approached the free-standing building, finding the tilt-up door standing wide-open.

  The interior of the garage was fastidiously kept, with tools hanging from pegboard and old kitchen cabinets lining a side wall. An off-road motorcycle, a lawn mower and a mountain bike occupied one half of the parking space. On the empty half, Coleman, dressed in an old pair of khakis and a T-shirt, dumped clippings from his mower bag into a tall yard-waste bag.

  Coleman looked up, some of the clippings falling on the floor. His expression instantly hardened. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve coming here.”

  The words were almost identical to the ones Coleman had hurled at Michael all those years ago, but they were slurred. Michael’s gaze swept the garage, picking out empty beer cans on the counter before refastening on the enraged Coleman.

  Michael unclenched the fists at his side and tried to let go of the long-ago resentment this visit to Coleman’s house had stirred. Anger wouldn’t get him anywhere. “I’m here to make peace between us.”

  Coleman’s face turned red and the veins in his temples bulged. “I should spit in your face.”

  Michael flinched. The older man’s all-consuming hatred was as fresh and raw as it had been eight years ago when Michael had accompanied Chrissy’s body back to Indigo Springs. He’d barely choked out how sorry he was before Coleman lit into him, the same way he was now.

  When he was nineteen, Michael didn’t have the strength to go against Coleman’s wishes. Unwilling to risk another ugly scene, he’d stayed away from Chrissy’s funeral.

  Now the time for retreat was over, even though the remorse and regret had never left him.

  “Hear me out before you do anything,” Michael said. “I know I can’t make up for what you lost, but—”

  “You’re damn right you can’t,” Coleman bit out, taking a step closer. His breath reeked of beer.

  Michael continued, determined to say what he’d come to say. “I was sorry then, and I’m sorry now. I hope we can at least find a way to be civil to each other.”

  “Civil?” Coleman spewed out the word. “You son of a bitch. You took my daughter from me. You ruined my marriage. And now you come here and dare talk to me about being civil?”

  “I understand you hate me,” Michael began.

  “Hate doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  “I even understand why you slashed my tires.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t slash your throat.” Coleman’s face was turning redder by the second.

  “Just leave my aunt out of this. She has nothing to do with any of it.”

  “You’re living in her house. That makes her part of it.”

  “I’m only living there until—”

  “You shouldn’t be here. In this town. On my property.”

  “But I—”

  “Get out!” Coleman yelled. “Get out before I call the police!”

  Michael hesitated, torn between getting far away from Coleman and staying to explain he’d leave town if Aunt Felicia got to keep her house.

  “Get out!” Coleman yelled again, his voice booming.

  Michael backed away, realizing he couldn’t reason with a drunk man. Coleman didn’t have the capacity to understand his interference at the bank had prolonged Michael’s stay in town instead of shortening it.

  “Don’t come here again!” Coleman shouted.

  Michael kept walking, helpless to stop the onslaught of angry words or to prevent Coleman’s neighbors from hearing them.

  It was a Saturday afternoon like any other with a fair number of people outside enjoying the warm, summer day.

  A couple of kids on the sidewalk straddled their bikes, leveling twin stares. A woman kneeling in front of a flower bed at the house across the street looked up from her gardening. A man next door stood by a lawn mower, his gaze riveted. Michael recognized him. It was Kenny Grieb, whose parents were long-time neighbors of the Colemans.

  “You hear me, Donahue!” Coleman shouted. “Next time I’ll have you arrested!”

  Shame rose up in Michael like the Lehigh River water during a storm, although he’d done nothing wrong.

  Not this time.

  He felt the cold stares of Kenny Grieb and Coleman’s other neighbors and turned deliberately away from them only to see Sara rushing toward him. Her car was parked directly behind his.

  The tide of humiliation almost knocked him over. Having Sara there, witnessing the ugly scene, made it so much worse.

  “You shouldn’t have followed me.” His raw emotions made his voice hoarse.

  “Of course I should have. You hired me to be your aunt’s lawyer, remember?”

  “That’s right!” Coleman was standing at the foot of the driveway, still shouting. “Get out!”

  Michael continued to his car, Sara keeping pace with him. “Let’s go have a cup of coffee and talk about this.”

  He opened the door to his car and slipped inside before he looked up at her. He saw the last thing he wanted from her—pity.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “Coleman didn’t admit to anything.”

  “We could still have that coffee,” she offered.

  “No thanks.” He pulled the car door shut.

  She looked as if he’d slapped her, striking his conscience a blow, but any conversation they had would only result in Sara offering to talk to Coleman. That might be the wisest course of action, but this wasn’t Sara’s problem to solve. It was his.

  Whenever Coleman sobered up, Michael planned to make another stab at reasoning with him.

  For his aunt’s sake.

  And maybe for his own, too.

  “TELL ME everything about you and Michael Donahue, no matter how small the detail,” Penelope demanded of Sara on Saturday night, her eyes shining with anticipation.

  After Penelope had offered an unnecessary apology for not getting together sooner, they’d grabbed the last table at the Blue Haven Pub, a neighborhood hangout almost free of tourists. Conversation flowed around them, competing with the soft rock music coming from the jukebox and the sound from two small televisions above the bar showing a Phillies game. Penelope’s husband had excused himself to get them drinks.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Sara said with little hope Penelope would drop the subject. Her old high-school friend had turned into a matchmaker the instant she’d donned a bridal veil.

  Penelope did an exaggerated eye roll. “Oh, come on! Johnny said you and Michael were an item. Besides, I saw you at the wedding. Do you really expect me to believe you’re
not interested?”

  “I make it a policy not to be interested in men who aren’t interested in me,” Sara said.

  Penelope frowned. “What does that mean? And talk fast before Michael gets here.”

  “Michael’s coming here?”

  “Should be here any minute.” The huge smile that suddenly wreathed Penelope’s face telegraphed to Sara that Johnny was approaching the table from behind Sara. Penelope didn’t smile like that at anyone else. “Isn’t that right, Johnny?”

  Johnny set three long-necked bottles of beer on the table before kissing his wife enthusiastically on the lips as though they’d been apart for five days instead of five minutes. “Isn’t what right, Pen?”

  Penelope sighed with contentment before replying. “I was just telling Sara that Michael’s joining us.”

  Johnny grimaced. “Not anymore. He canceled.”

  “Why would he cancel?” Penelope cried as though she was the injured party. “You told him it was going to be the four of us, right?”

  “He didn’t say.” Johnny avoided the question, but the answer was obvious. Michael wasn’t coming because he knew Sara would be there.

  “Okay.” Penelope was already canvassing the bar with her eyes. “Then let’s see who else we can match Sara up with.”

  “Penelope, stop!” Sara said. “I didn’t move to Indigo Springs to find a man. I’m here to start a law practice.”

  “Who says you can’t do both?” Penelope asked tartly, her gaze still sweeping the room. The good-looking man with the healthy tan who’d been best man at Johnny’s wedding walked into the pub. “There’s Chase, but we all know he’s not available.”

  “I’m still asking him to join us,” Johnny said with a laugh, motioning the man to their table. Sara remembered somebody saying he was some sort of park ranger. He looked the part, tall and rangy with the appearance of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors.

  Chase met Sara’s eyes and said all the right things when Johnny performed the introductions, but something was obviously troubling him.

  “Have any of you seen Mandy?” he asked without sitting down, his eyes making the same scan of the bar as Penelope’s had. “She left her son with my dad…”

  His voice cut off, and Sara followed his line of vision. The woman he was living with, the one who’d yelled at Sara during the job interview, was emerging from the restroom. The short skirt she wore with a sleeveless black top was an attention-getter, but not as much as the bottle of beer she held.

  “Excuse me,” Chase said, then moved quickly through the maze of tables to intercept her.

  “Isn’t she pregnant?” Sara asked.

  “I think Chase is about to point that out to her,” Penelope said as they watched him lower his head to Mandy’s, his body language telegraphing his disapproval. “But I’ve heard them have this out before. Mandy says the occasional beer doesn’t hurt anything.”

  “And she has another child?” Sara asked.

  “A little boy,” Johnny said. “About a year old.”

  Mandy threw up the hand not holding the beer, headed straight for the bar and set down the bottle so hard liquid sloshed out of it. Then she stalked out of the bar. After a moment, Chase followed her.

  “That little scene should put my wife off romance. At least for tonight.” Johnny put an arm around Penelope, running his hand up and down her bare arm. “She’s a shameless matchmaker.”

  “Me?” Penelope protested. “It was your idea to get Sara together with Michael. You said maybe some of her love for Indigo Springs would rub off on him.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sara said, focusing on Johnny.

  “Michael got the official word today that he was approved for another assignment, this time in Ghana,” Johnny said. “He has ten days to decide whether to accept it.”

  Sara tried not to show the prospect of Michael taking off for a west African country halfway around the world bothered her. “So?”

  “So most people have had enough of the Peace Corps after two years,” Johnny said. “Michael’s been a volunteer for six.”

  “Then he must like it.”

  “He won’t admit it, but he’s burned out. It’s time for him to get on with his life.” Johnny took a pull from his beer and put the bottle down on the table with an audible thunk. “It’s time for him to come home.”

  “He doesn’t think of Indigo Springs as home.” Against her good judgment, Sara let herself get pulled into the conversation. “He told me he’d never live here again.”

  “Because of Quincy Coleman.” Johnny sounded disgusted. “That man should just leave Michael be.”

  “Then you heard what happened this afternoon?” Sara asked.

  “Who didn’t?” Johnny said. “Kenny Grieb was there, and he’s the biggest gossip in town.”

  “I was also there,” Sara said. “If someone yelled at me the way Coleman was yelling at Michael, I’d have a sour feeling about the town, too.”

  Johnny took a drink from his beer while he considered her statement, then slanted her a significant look. “Maybe you can convince Michael it’s not so bad here.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Me? Why me?”

  “Michael likes you.”

  “If Michael liked me so much,” Sara retorted, “he wouldn’t avoid me.”

  “Not true,” Johnny said. “He’s staying away so he won’t cause you any trouble.”

  “I’ll tell you what I told him. I don’t let anyone dictate who my friends are.”

  Johnny’s face creased into a smile. “Then the four of us can have dinner together tomorrow night. I’ll make sure Michael shows.”

  “I’ll make a reservation,” Penelope offered.

  “Make it a reservation for three, because I’m not coming,” Sara said firmly.

  “Why not?” Johnny seemed genuinely confused. “You just said you don’t care if people talk.”

  “I don’t,” Sara replied. “I also don’t care to be set up with a man who doesn’t want to be set up.”

  “But—” Johnny began.

  “Give it a rest, Johnny,” Sara interrupted. “I won’t change my mind.”

  If Michael wanted to have dinner with her, he could ask her himself. Even then, she should tell him no.

  The chances of either of those things happening was exactly nil.

  CHAPTER NINE

  KENNY WAS TRYING to drive her insane.

  Laurie couldn’t come up with any other explanation. Why else would he place that ridiculous ad in the Indigo Springs Gazette and then virtually ignore her?

  After making the asinine suggestion that she call him to arrange to get together—yeah, right!—she hadn’t heard one word from him.

  She almost understood the silence on Friday. He was waiting her out, trying to see if she’d capitulate and call him.

  But how to explain his standoffishness today? Had he lied about his willingness to give up alcohol? Was that it? Had he gone off somewhere and gotten so stinking drunk he’d forgotten his quest to win her back?

  No sooner had she arrived at the theory than she was driving by the Blue Haven Pub, the place where Kenny had once spent most of his nonworking hours.

  She happened to know it was still his favorite hangout because the butcher at the corner market revealed as much when she casually brought up the subject.

  She parked her car at a curb two blocks down from the Blue Haven, hearing the rumbling of thunder in the distance when she got out of the car. The sky was darker than it should have been given that it wasn’t yet sunset, and the air was heavy with the threat of rain.

  She ought to get back in her car and drive home but she was already here. She walked casually toward the pub, encouraged that someone had left the door ajar.

  It wouldn’t hurt to peek inside.

  She scanned the bar for Kenny, but her eyes fell on the reddish brown of her employer’s hair. Sara sat at a table with Penelope and Johnny Pollock, the town newlyweds.

  Laurie ju
mped back out of view, although she wasn’t sure why. Sara wouldn’t guess she was at the Blue Haven searching for Kenny. Nobody would.

  “Hey, Laurie. You looking for Kenny?” The man seated at the bar stool nearest the door called. It was Mr. Gilroy, who lived three doors down from her mother. His wife had paid a visit yesterday toting her copy of the Indigo Springs Gazette in case Laurie wanted an extra copy of the ad. She hadn’t, but Mrs. Gilroy had left the newspaper behind anyway. “’Cause Kenny hasn’t been by in maybe a week,” Mr. Gilroy continued.

  “Not looking for anyone,” Laurie insisted. “Just passing by.”

  She waved to underscore her declaration, then hightailed it back to the car.

  Just because Kenny wasn’t at the Blue Haven didn’t mean he wasn’t drinking, but Laurie wasn’t up to checking out all the bars in town after that close call. Besides, the weather was worsening by the second. The wind was gusting so hard she could hear it whistling, and the sky had darkened even more.

  She guessed it was possible that Kenny wasn’t out on the town but holed up in the little house on Harrison Street they used to share.

  She was barely aware she’d decided to check out her theory when she found herself driving slowly down the block that had once held such charm for her.

  It still did.

  The tall, shady oak trees. The small, tidy houses. The wide, quiet street.

  On the left the brick house she’d so loved was approaching, its front yard contained by a wood fence that a medium-sized white dog was hurdling.

  Could that be Valentine, the shaggy-haired puppy she’d bought for Kenny their first Valentine’s Day together?

  Yes. It had to be. She recognized the black patch of fur on the dog’s head, the tongue hanging from the side of her mouth that meant she was happy.

  She was also on a suicide mission.

  The dog dashed into the road, right into the path of her car. Laurie slammed on her brakes, her tires screeching on the pavement, narrowly avoiding her precious pet.

  Her hands shook and her heart pounded as she pulled the car over to the curb. Keeping Val in her sights, she got out of the car on shaky legs.

  The dog was already halfway down the block, joy in her prancing gait.