Finding His Way Home

by Mia Ross

  It was trust. So he was capable of it, after all, she mused with genuine interest. Prison hadn’t destroyed it, just sent it into hiding. Which, considering what he must have been through, was totally understandable. Knowing he still had the ability to believe in someone made Jenna want to find a way to make him trust her, too. She wasn’t sure why his opinion of her mattered so much, but in situations like this she always listened to her intuition. Even if what it was telling her didn’t make sense at the time, in the long run it was usually right.

  “Here we are, rattling along, when we’ve got a guest at the table,” Olivia said, bringing Jenna back into the conversation. “How are things at your studio?”

  No one wanted to hear her life was chaotic and she was way behind on her deadlines, so she smiled and gave her usual chipper response. “Just fine. Diane stopped in this morning and asked me to drop by the teen center later this week to talk to one of the new girls about art.”

  “Gretchen,” Olivia commented with a nod. “Such a heartbreaking story with her and her father struggling the way they are. You’re just the kind of role model she needs.”

  “I don’t think I’d be anyone’s choice as a mentor,” Jenna protested with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Diane just wants me to tell Gretchen how talented she is, encourage her to keep practicing, that kind of thing.”

  “Like that munchkin art professor did for you,” Scott suggested.

  “In slightly less colorful language,” she clarified with a nostalgic smile. “Miss Fontaine was—what’s the word?”

  “Nutty?” he asked in a helpful tone.

  “Eccentric. Most creative people are.”

  “Oh, that’s true,” Olivia confirmed with a nod. “My old friend Annabelle, God rest her, sang like an angel and could play a dozen different instruments. She also talked to the coatrack in her foyer like it was a real person and couldn’t remember what she was doing from one minute to the next. She was a gifted musician but madder than a hatter.”

  They all laughed at that, and Scott polished off the rest of his drink before standing. “I hate to leave, Gram, but I have to drop Jenna off at the cemetery so she can pick up her van. After that, I really should get back to the house. If I don’t finish covering the holes in the chapel roof, that storm they’re talking about is gonna wreck all the new wood I put up inside.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize to me for being busy. I’ve got things to do, too,” she assured him as she stood and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. All her grandsons towered over her, but Jenna thought it was adorable the way Olivia still gave them a quick peck whenever they were headed out. “If you’re interested, I’m making pot roast Friday night.”

  Grinning, he cocked his head like a half-starved hound who’d just gotten wind of a free meal. “For me?”

  “Well, it’s not for me,” she teased, then turned to Jenna with a critical look. “I noticed you’ve been losing weight again, dear. I think you’d better come, too, and have something that didn’t come out of a microwave. There will be plenty of food, so you two can split the leftovers.”

  Scott eyed her warily. “You’re not trying to set us up, are you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided him. “I’ve invited everyone who’s got the night free, so there will be lots of other folks here.”

  “You’re having a family shindig now?” he asked. “How come?”

  “Because I feel like having company, and no one ever turns down my cooking.” She looked from him to Jenna. “Should I plan on seeing you two or not?”

  Jenna had been planning to work late to finish up the doggy painting for her clients. But since she didn’t have a domestic bone in her body, she never could resist the lure of a home-cooked meal. “Sounds good to me. Six o’clock?”

  Olivia gave her grandson a questioning look, and after hesitating, he gave in with a grin. “Works for me. While I’m here, I’ll tighten up that loose railing on your front steps.”

  She beamed at him as if he’d just offered to build her a whole new porch. “That would be wonderful, honey. Thank you.”

  “I’d imagine there’s a lot more jobs like that around here,” he commented as she walked Jenna and him to the door. “I know Paul and Jason have their hands full with the mill, so you go ahead and make a list. It might take me a while, but I’ll make sure everything gets done.”

  “I’ll do that.” Pausing on the porch, she hugged him again, grasping his arms as she gazed up at him. “Welcome home, Scott.”

  His sheepish grin made him look about ten years old, and he stooped to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Gram. See you Friday.”

  Back in the truck, Jenna couldn’t help gloating a little. “So, that went well.”

  “As blatant manipulation goes, it was a ten.” While he fiddled with the ignition, he sighed. “But I can’t blame you for taking a shot. I wasn’t getting anywhere on my own, but now I feel stupid for being so worried about seeing her.”

  “Your grandmother is a very forgiving person,” Jenna reminded him gently. “Actually, your whole family’s like that. It’s one of the big reasons I enjoy spending time with them. They don’t expect anyone to be perfect, and that makes it easier for me to be myself.”

  “Mostly, they don’t have patience for a lot of nonsense.” When the ancient truck finally let out a hacking cough and started, Scott pulled out of the driveway and headed out of town. “Mom sees right through that kinda thing, and she seems to think a lot of you. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Good to know.”

  “So, what’ve you got planned for Gretchen?”

  “No plans,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ll let her run the show. If she wants to confide in me, I’ll listen. If not, that’ll be okay, too. She’s old enough to decide stuff like that for herself.”

  Slanting her a look, Scott opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. His reserve came across to her as more of a habit than part of his real personality, and she seized the opportunity to take another whack at this very stubborn nut. “You wanted to ask me something?”

  “None of my business.”

  “That never stops anyone else,” she informed him with a laugh. “What did you want to know?”

  Another hesitation, then very quietly he asked, “What happened with you and your mom?”

  Jenna’s heart thudded to a stop. Of all the things he could have questioned her about, her mother was the last one she’d anticipated. In the past year, the only person she’d confessed her sordid history to was Diane Barrett, and then only with a lot of patient—and persistent—encouragement.

  Keeping secrets, that one especially, had become a bad tendency for her. Gradually, she’d come to recognize that it served no purpose other than to lead her in never-ending circles back to a time in her life she was trying desperately to leave behind her. But Scott had been forthright with her about his own past, she reminded herself. It was only fair for her to do the same.

  “It’s not a nice story,” she cautioned him.

  “I kinda figured that when I saw your reaction to what my mom said about Gretchen’s mother taking off.” Pulling onto the graveled shoulder of the road, he swiveled to face her squarely. “You looked upset, but you covered it up pretty fast. It’s been bugging me ever since.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged, his baffled expression a perfect mirror for the one she must be wearing right now. “Just curious, I guess. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she said, as much to convince herself as him. Figuring it was best to get this over with, she dived right in. “For as long as I can remember, it was just Mom and me. She had lots of boyfriends, but none of them stayed for long. We moved around a lot, which made it tough to get attached to people, never knowing when we’d be leaving.”

 
“Not a very nice way to grow up,” he commented in a critical tone. “Kids need a place to call home.”

  So do adults, Jenna added silently before going on. “Anyway, when I was sixteen, we were living in Dayton, Ohio. One day after school I went to my friend Vicky’s house for a sleepover. When they dropped me off the next morning, our car was gone and the only things left in the house were mine. No note, nothing.”

  She heard the disgust in her voice as the resentment she’d carried with her all these years raged to the surface. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to let it go through her and out the way the school counselor had taught her. Even now it was easier said than done, but she still made the attempt because she didn’t know what else to do.

  Scott’s eyes darkened in a threatening way that would have scared her if she hadn’t understood his anger wasn’t aimed at her. “What happened then?”

  “Vicky’s dad was a cop, so he got the police involved right away. But it didn’t matter,” she added bitterly. “Mom was long gone, and they never found a trace of her. You’d think it wouldn’t be too hard to track down someone named Anastasia Reed, but I guess she went off the grid or something. Fortunately, Vicky’s parents stepped up and became my foster family so I could finish high school there. I was a pretty good student, and I got a scholarship to a local university. Except for my art class, college wasn’t my thing, so after a year I quit that and went out on my own.”

  The story of her life spilled out with a swiftness that astonished her. In a way, that was good because it was over quickly. It was also bad, because at her age it should take her longer to recount her personal history. Why didn’t it? she wondered, then shoved the unanswerable question aside for another time. For now, she focused on the shifting expressions moving across Scott’s face. Some, such as sympathy, she understood. Others, not so much. Those were the ones that intrigued her the most, even though she had a feeling they weren’t exactly uplifting.

  Just when she thought he might not say anything at all, he surprised her with a warm smile. “You know helping Gretchen will bring out all those bad memories for you, but you’re willing to do it anyway. Except for my family, I didn’t think people like you still existed.”

  “We’re around,” she assured him, relieved that he seemed to accept her, ragged past and all. “You just have to keep your mind open enough to recognize us when we pop up in front of you.”

  “I have to say,” he began as he pulled back onto the road. “You’re one of the most optimistic folks I’ve ever met. With what happened to you when you were young, how do you manage that?”

  Picking up on the opportunity to offer this drowning man a lifeline, Jenna smiled. “Faith.”

  His eyes flicked to her before returning to the road. “In people or God?”

  “Both.”

  “Don’t tell me,” he grumbled. “You’re one of those folks who thinks there’s something good in everyone.”

  “Yup. It can be buried pretty far down sometimes, but if you keep digging you’ll find it.”

  The corners of his mouth dipped into a frown. “What about your mom?”

  That one was tougher, but with a lot of prayer, Jenna had slowly but surely come to an uneasy sort of understanding about her absent mother. “She was a fabulous artist. Giving life to her ideas was what mattered most to her.”

  More than once over the years, Jenna had wondered if Anastasia Reed had regretted being saddled with the daughter she’d brought into the world. Another question with no answer. Unfortunately, where her mother was concerned, Jenna had enough of them to drive anyone bonkers.

  “Do you think you were better off with your foster family than with your mother?” Scott asked as he drove around the curve that ended at a small parking lot outside the cemetery.

  No one had ever thought to ask her that, and she considered his question carefully before responding, “In some ways I was. I got to stay in one place for two whole years, went to my prom and graduated with honors. They were a nice, normal family, and they gave me the kind of stability Mom couldn’t seem to manage. I think I made out pretty well.”

  They’d reached the tall iron gates that bracketed the lane leading into the cemetery, and Scott parked next to her van. Climbing out of the truck, he came around to open her door for her. She’d have to check her map for other sleepy towns to visit below the Mason-Dixon line, she thought with a grin. These Southern-gentleman manners had really grown on her.

  Giving her a long, thoughtful look, he said, “I know we just met this morning, but something tells me you’d make out well no matter what life threw at you.”

  “You can do anything,” she replied, paraphrasing one of her favorite Bible verses. “You just need a little faith.”

  “Is that your personal philosophy, or are you trying to convince me it’ll work for me, too?”

  “Yes.”

  He barked out a derisive laugh, but she resolutely held her ground and returned that skeptical stare with a determined one of her own. He was a tough customer, no doubt about that, but she had yet to meet someone she couldn’t connect with if she kept searching for a way in. It might take a while with Scott, but her gut was telling her he was worth the effort.

  As they continued their staring contest, his eyes narrowed with something akin to respect. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  “Not even a teeny, tiny bit. I think you growl and glare to make people stay away because you don’t know how else to keep yourself safe. But you’re here now,” she reminded him firmly. “You don’t have to stand on your own anymore.”

  “It’s a hard habit to break,” he confided in a hushed voice laced with remorse. “I’m not sure I can do it.”

  “You’re a smart guy, Scott. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

  “How could you possibly think that? You hardly know me.”

  “I know your family,” she told him with a smile. “And how much they love you, how much they missed you while you were gone. They’re all ready to support you and help you make a better future for yourself.”

  After chewing on that for a minute, he said, “I’m not sure I deserve their help.”

  “Everyone deserves a second chance. This town is full of good people who believe that and would be willing to give you a fresh start.” Resting a hand on his arm, she added, “You just have to let them do it.”

  That got her a wan smile, and as he pulled away from her, she couldn’t tell if she’d gotten through to him or not. At least he’d listened to her little sermon, she thought as she said goodbye and headed for her van.

  It might not seem like much right now, but it was a start.

  * * *

  When he got back to the chapel, Scott stood in the middle of the floor trying to figure out what was bugging him. Except for the hole he’d hacked in the wall to rescue the window, nothing had changed as far as he could see. Then he realized the difference wasn’t visual.

  It was quiet.

  So quiet, he could hear birds chirping in the trees outside and the distant rumble of thunder heading in from the west. Jenna had been here less than an hour, but during her short stay, he’d gotten accustomed to hearing the sound of a human voice. And liked it, he admitted grudgingly. Apparently, a week of having only himself for company was wearing thin.

  After hammering a temporary filler into the wall where the stained-glass window had been, he climbed onto the roof and covered the worrisome holes to keep out the rain. Old country music on the radio didn’t do much to fill the echoing space, and he decided to take a stroll before the rain started. He left the chapel and went into the house to get a few pieces of old bead board from the pile in what used to be the parlor. There was so much to do around the old place, he figured it wouldn’t matter much if he took some time out for an errand.

  Now that he could do
pretty much whatever he wanted, he took full advantage of the freedom to splash across Sterling Creek and head for the sawmill a long-ago Barrett had founded to help rebuild the town after the Civil War. Following the creek while it bubbled along, he let himself relax enough to appreciate his peaceful surroundings.

  Centuries-old trees flanked him on both sides, their leafy canopies throwing dapples of sunlight onto the stream and the path his brother’s bloodhound had worn beside it. Scott paused to allow a mama beaver and her brood of four skitter down the bank in front of him and disappear under their dam. That was the kind of thing he recalled from his childhood, when Granddad would take them all for a nature walk and a lesson on how precious the land and creatures surrounding them were.

  Someday, Scott hoped he’d be able to think of his grandfather and smile instead of frown. For now, he let the sadness wash over him, mimicking the current running alongside the path. The brook had been following this exact same route for generations before Scott, and would still be around long after he was gone. Winding its way through the forest, bringing water to the trees and animals before continuing on its way to do more of the same downstream.

  The steadiness of that was comforting to him, and he felt some of the sorrow he’d been dragging around with him lift away. It was a relief to let it go, and his steps felt lighter as he picked up the sound of the mill’s running waterwheel on the breeze.

  As he rounded the last bend in the creek, he got the attention of a keen canine nose and braced himself as his brother’s insane bloodhound raced toward him at full speed. The dog barreled into Scott, then retreated almost immediately, running in circles while he flung his head back and bayed at the top of his lungs.

  “Hey there, Boyd. We just met the other day, so I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

  He leaned down to ruffle the dog’s floppy ears and heard his older brother Paul laughing. “Remember you? From the looks of it, he’s been dying to see you again.”