Owen's Best Intentions (Smoky Mountains, Tn. #2)

by Anna Adams

  “Don’t forget to brush your teeth when you get out,” she said.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  She stood in the hall a moment and left the door open a crack. What to do next? She could lurk outside the bathroom to stay out of Owen’s way, or do the exes-who-get-along type of thing and go back downstairs. Besides, he had to eat something. Whipping up a quick dinner for her son’s one-handed father wouldn’t hurt her.

  Nevertheless, she walked down the stairs as if she were sneaking up on her nemesis. At the bottom, she ended up stumbling upon the sight of Owen, sitting in a chair, resting his head on his good hand. He looked up, his face ravaged by pain.

  He looked horrible. She went to kneel in front of him. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Her natural instincts roared to life. Snub me? Fine, I’ll walk away. For once, she shut those instincts down.

  “You’re in pain. Ben will see. He blames himself already.”

  “He’ll be asleep soon. Why are you pushing me to take the drugs when you know I have a problem?”

  “Because you know you have a problem, and you won’t overuse. Noah wouldn’t even give you enough to let you get in trouble.”

  “You think I don’t know where to get whatever I need?”

  That set her back on her heels. “I have two choices. Believe you love Ben, and you’re an honorable man, or believe your addictions will still get the better of you. Tonight, because you’re taking care of him, I have to believe you’re in control.”

  He set his jaw. She watched his chest rise and fall with several hard-taken breaths.

  “What are you so afraid of?” she asked. “Help me understand, or this could be a problem for us.”

  “I know who I am and who I’ve been. I’m afraid of who I might be.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth, and his expression was raw, his eyes hollow. “Still my father. Always. My father.”

  Her throat felt tight. That fear cut through her. “I’ll help you.” She took the pill bottle from her pocket. “Your brother gave me these. I’ll give you one now. You call me if you need another.”

  “How does that work, Lilah? You hid my son from me for four years. You’ve been looking for a way to prove I’m unfit, and I’m going to give that to you by taking drugs? A man with addiction issues?”

  “I can’t argue any of that, but I hate seeing you in this much pain for no reason. Let’s try to get along tonight. I make no guarantees down the road, but for now, do the responsible thing, and manage the pain of your broken arm so you can take good care of our son.”

  Owen swept the back of his hand across his lips, which were dry. Still, he cracked a small smile. “Your meting them out to me isn’t the worst idea.”

  She shook a pill from the envelope in her hand and passed it to him. “I’ll get you some water.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stared at the pill as if she’d handed him poison. He was so afraid, and he knew himself better than she’d ever known him. She had no idea what it was like to be addicted to something. How often did he think of drinking even when he wasn’t hurt?

  But she couldn’t stand by and watch him suffer. How would he take care of their son if he was in pain? If his brother thought he could handle these narcotics, then she—and Owen—had to trust Noah’s judgment. She brought water, and when he reached for it, she caught his wrist. He looked up at her, startled, and she remembered how they’d been once, caring for each other, eager to be together. They’d valued each other.

  She kissed his forehead, not with the crazy longing of the old days they’d spent together, but with a whole heart. With the bond of a man and a woman who shared a son they both loved. She respected Owen for fighting his own anguish, and she wanted him to understand he could trust her—for help and empathy.

  “You won’t be taking the medication for long. Just until the pain eases enough for the ibuprofen to work.”

  He took the water and turned her hand, holding her still. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m not sure anyone except Noah in my family would have the faith in me to do this.”

  With her free hand, she took the envelope back out of her pocket. He had to be able to live with temptation.

  “No,” he said. “You keep them.” He met her eyes, straight on. “It’s not that I don’t trust myself.” He shook his head. “I guess it is, but I don’t want you wondering about this any more than I want to. I’ll ask you if I need another one.”

  “Why don’t I sleep here tonight?” She swept the worn couch with a wary eye. “You must have extra sheets and a pillow?”

  “No.” He released her hand, and swallowed the pill with the water. “I’ll call you if I need help with Ben, but you don’t need to sleep here. I’m not an invalid.” He set the water glass on the table beside him. “You should get back. There may be more snow, and the road will get bad.”

  Lilah accepted the distance he put between them. She felt safer on the other side of it. “Okay, but you’re the one who reminded me I drive every day in a Vermont winter.”

  He touched her hand again. “Not when you’re worried about Ben.”

  She kissed him again, enjoying the warmth of his cheek and the prickle of stubble. It was one kiss too many. She shouldn’t feel so happy about being close to him. Without another word, because words always got them in trouble, she hurried to the door. “Say good-night to Ben for me.”

  She’d never let anyone else do that before.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DURING THE LAST WEEK in January, Owen and his team completed the framing and drywall installation on the clinic. The committee who’d pushed the clinic proposal through a reluctant town council had arranged for a celebration.

  Lilah had come to the cabin early to help him and Ben get ready. He hated being so grateful for her support, but all that big talk about managing one-handed had been just that. Big talk.

  “I don’t understand,” she said as she helped Ben zip his parka. “This committee put together a party before the building is finished?”

  “This clinic’s a big deal. We’re getting medical care this community has never had. My brother is already talking to prospective staff.”

  “So the committee is spending money on a party just because you’ve framed the rooms?”

  “And wired the building and finished the drywall.”

  “Are they spending clinic money?”

  He shook his head. “It’s potluck. All the families are bringing tables and chairs and a few dishes. Mom already had Chad set up our contribution, and she’s providing soda and coffee and water.”

  “I helped Uncle Chad,” Ben said.

  And he hadn’t been eaten by goats or leaped headfirst off a mountain. A big day for the Gage family.

  “It’ll be good for the community. The more snow we get up here, the harder the local residents work. We’ll all appreciate a nice break and some fireworks.”

  “What are fireworks, Own?”

  “Like explosions in the sky. You’ve never seen fireworks, buddy?” No Fourth of July? No New Year’s Eve? And most of his family lived in New York City? “You’ve never taken him home to see the ball drop in Times Square?”

  “I didn’t like those crowds when I was his age.” Lilah busied herself with her own zipper.

  How could he have forgotten? She’d been lured from her mother in a crowded store. A knock at the door startled them all. Ben went over and tugged it open, using both hands on the doorknob. Chad waited on the threshold, grinning at his nephew.

  “Ready to go, bud?”

  “What are you doing here?” Owen asked.

  “I thought you could use a hand. I’ll help you carry everything.” Chad caught sight of Lilah.

  Ever since the goat incident, Chad had worked
on weaseling his way into her good graces. Owen studied her, too. Beautiful, graceful, now totally focused on her son, who’d burst out the door behind Chad to hop around the mud puddles in the driveway. Lilah watched him, making sure he didn’t jump in any. She raked her pale blond hair over her shoulder, unaware they were watching her. She looked deceptively fragile, her beauty compelling. Chad seemed fascinated.

  Owen felt an uncomfortable, unwelcome surge of jealousy. Idiotic, but Lilah’s kindness had reminded him how it felt to be the center of her attention. Their extreme antipathy had seemed to fade.

  He had to admit that during his pain-filled nights he’d been forced to acknowledge that Ben would be happier if he and Lilah could find a way to put the past behind them.

  Each time that thought crept inside his mind, he’d brushed it aside as quickly as he could, but watching Lilah, he couldn’t help thinking it again.

  Four years ago, he would have fought to keep their relationship alive if he’d known Ben was coming.

  “I can pull the grill over with one hand,” he said to Chad. “But the cooler’s in the back of the car.”

  “You were going to drive over?” Chad’s mocking tone drew Lilah’s attention. “What did you pack in the cooler?”

  Owen thought about pounding his little brother into the new foundation when they reached the clinic. “I put in juice and some healthy snacks for Ben and veggies for all of us, as well as hamburger patties and a salad.”

  “You’re going to force the kid to eat carrots and grapes when he could have funnel cakes and hot chocolate? I heard Allen’s Drugs is bringing their funnel cake machine.”

  The pharmacy normally ran it as advertising for their soda fountain during the county fair or the fall festival.

  “Maybe a funnel cake for everyone would be a great idea,” Lilah said, smiling.

  “I like cake,” Ben said. He’d hopped close enough to the door to hear them talking.

  Owen shook his head. “We’ll see if we have room after we eat the food we brought.”

  His brother considered for a second, but then he headed to the grill. “I’ll pull this.”

  Ben looked everyone over, sensing an undercurrent. Then he took off.

  “Wait, Uncle Chad. I want to come with you.”

  Off he skipped, and Owen shook his head at Lilah. “I think my brother may have a crush on you.”

  “I’ve noticed. I’m thinking if I ignore it, it will go away. I won’t be robbing the Gage cradle anytime soon.”

  “He’s only a few years younger than you.” But he couldn’t deny an embarrassing sense of relief.

  “A high school senior?” She grinned. “That broken arm of yours has robbed you of your good sense. I’m decades older than Chad in maturity, if not years.”

  True, but she made him think of how she lived, afraid and alone. Distancing herself from loved ones because she was safer inside her bubble. “You choose to be older, Lilah. You work hard to stay ahead of risks. Maybe I took the fun out of your life.”

  “Ben changed the way I have fun. I don’t need to go back to the kind of playing we did before I was pregnant, Owen.” She pushed her hand beneath her hair at the nape of her neck and lifted it, as if it were annoying her. “Don’t worry about your brother. First, the idea is creepy, and second, he’s only trying to prove he’s a man, like you and Noah.”

  “I’m not jealous,” he said. He wasn’t sure he’d ever lied to her before.

  She looked bewildered. “I didn’t think you were.”

  “Why did you think you had to tell me not to worry about him?”

  She shrugged, and her hair slid over her shoulder, a flash of gold in the gray, snowy day. “I thought you might be worried I’m still trying to get back at you, and that I might use Chad to hurt you.”

  “Didn’t even occur to me.” He must have been losing his edge.

  They drove the short distance around the fields to the new driveway he’d had made for the clinic.

  They got out of the car, and Owen placed his hand in the center of Lilah’s back, as they looked for Ben. At the far end of the parking lot, a small bluegrass quartet, bundled up like snowmen, began to play the music that had been born in these mountains.

  The rhythms reached inside Owen, who’d always known them. And in front of them, Ben waited. Owen smiled at his son, who stared fascinated at the banjo player’s flashing fingers.

  “Lilah.”

  Owen turned with her as a voice called her name. Christine Laverty, who owned a small antiques shop on the square, had parked behind them. The music had drowned out the sound of her pulling up.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here, Lilah.” She stopped and stared at them both. “Oh,” she said. “You’re the one who—”

  “Who what?” Owen prompted her. With an abusive, drunken father who’d seemed proud he was a monster, Owen had suffered the town’s censure from the day he’d entered kindergarten. That was fine but no one was going to treat Lilah or Ben as if they’d done something wrong.

  “Your mother told me you had a little boy, Owen.” Christine stared at her hands. “Whose mother never told you he existed. But I never put you together with Lilah. We’ve been dickering on some pieces in my shop.”

  “What did you want to tell me?” Lilah asked.

  “Um—I found another one of those chairs you—”

  “If you want her to buy a chair from you, now would be the time to cut the judgment.” He turned Lilah away from Christine.

  “Wait.” Lilah slipped out of his grasp. “Maybe I deserve it,” she said to him as she turned back. “I am the one, Christine, and I do want the chair. I’d also like to believe you won’t spread gossip that might hurt our son.”

  Christine’s face was bright red, and not from the cold. “Owen, I’m your friend, too. I see that you’re—” she paused, staring at Lilah “—making changes. I don’t want to help someone who’s treated you as if you don’t deserve your own child.”

  “Then sell to Lilah, because you’ll be helping yourself, and don’t make this situation worse for Ben.” He nodded toward his boy, standing by Chad near the clinic, still tapping a boot-clad toe with the band. “That’s my son, and he doesn’t know anything about the past. I hope he won’t until his mother and I explain.”

  “Sorry.” Christine passed Lilah a business card she fished out of her quilted jacket. “Here’s my number again. Let me know if you want the chair. I’ll see you around, Owen.”

  Lilah didn’t move. Her shoulders were set as if she were bracing for a blow. Her hand drifted slowly to her side, and the card seemed to slip from her fingers. Owen bent and picked it up from the muddy gravel. “Let it go,” he said.

  She turned back to him. “I never thought about you or Ben going through this because of me.”

  “I’m trying to stop being angry with you about it, Lilah, but I’m dumbfounded that you thought I wouldn’t mind not knowing I had a child.”

  “You weren’t ever supposed to know,” she said.

  “Look how easily I found out. I’m only surprised it didn’t happen before now.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted a child. We never talked about being married or starting a family. I thought I was on my own—especially after you said you didn’t want to stop drinking.” She lowered her voice. “Not that I believe you’re anything like your father. I wish I’d never said that.”

  “Let that go, too.” He had to stop paying attention to that same fear. He wouldn’t let himself become a man like his father. “Come on. Chad has his own friends to hang out with. Let’s get Ben.”

  She held his gaze with an unspoken something in her eyes. “Thanks,” she said, “for defending me. You didn’t have to, and I wouldn’t have expected you to.”

  He started to say he’d done it for Ben. His ins
tincts compelled him to reestablish the distance between him and Lilah. She’d hurt him more than he cared to admit, and he wasn’t up for another round of rejection. But, for Ben’s sake, he nodded, and started walking toward the boys and the bluegrass band.

  As they caught up, Ben lifted his arms in the air, a signal Owen already recognized. He scooped up his son, one-handed, and Ben hitched his legs around Owen’s waist.

  “You’ll have to walk in a minute, buddy.” Lilah adjusted Ben’s knitted cap, which had gotten twisted in his struggle to get his balance on Owen’s hip. “Owen can’t hold you like this for long.”

  Her sweet, floral scent wafted past Owen, and he smiled into her eyes. She looked away, seeming a little panicked, while a pink stain rose up the column of her throat.

  “I smell the funnel cakes. They must have set up already,” Owen said.

  “They’re behind the other side of the barn,” Chad said. “I mean clinic, where the door was, under the loft.”

  Ben clapped his hands. “Funnel cakes. Yeah!”

  Chad tagged along for the treat on Owen’s dime. They sat together at one of the picnic tables the drugstore management had lent the town for the day.

  Chad helped Ben eat his golden-brown, sugar-dusted, fried cake. Afterward, standing on the bench beside Owen, Ben used Chad’s napkin to wipe his face.

  “You got sugar, too, Own.” He wiped Owen’s chin, snagging a bit of paper on stubble Owen hadn’t shaved this morning or yesterday. Ben touched it. “Ouch,” he said. “You gotta get your own paper off.”

  Owen rubbed at his chin, but was surprised to find Lilah focused on his face, too. Even more surprised when she looked away as if she didn’t want to be caught staring at him. As if she cared again.

  He hugged Ben close. What did they look like? A normal family, enjoying the winter day? Two estranged parents, uncomfortable at being stuck with each other?