by Amy Knupp
“How can you argue about a place where people want to raise their kids?”
“I can argue anything with you.”
She scowled at him, then glanced over her shoulder. She took a deep breath and put her hand on his bike. He eyed her, waiting for her to remove it.
“I never pictured you on a motorcycle.”
“You pictured me, though, huh?” He shot her a lopsided grin.
That was all it took to get her to drop her hand. “I didn’t say that….” She crossed her arms. “Still just as cocky as ever, I see.”
“That’s the way you always liked me.”
“I never liked you.”
“That’s not exactly how I remember it.”
She swallowed and pierced him with those eyes. “Back to the land…Are you going to sell it to us, or are you just going to play games?”
“You really think I’ll tell you my plans?”
Fire flashed in her eyes. Here was a much more familiar Savannah than the one he’d seen so far. A thought occurred to him. “Is there something between Rundle and you?”
Savannah laughed for the first time, and he was yanked back to the days they’d run in the same crowd. That laugh had always made him want to hear it over and over.
“Me and Zach?” she said. “Seriously?”
“You can’t expect me to believe you don’t have a man in your life.” Jake didn’t allow himself to consider why he wanted to know.
“I don’t. And if I did, I can tell you with total certainty it wouldn’t be Zach. He’s my brother-in-law.”
Jake felt the tightness ease out of his neck. “Seems your interests are pretty wrapped up in this company. Your livelihood, your brother-in-law’s, your sister’s…”
“That’s why I’m standing here in the street, talking to you.”
“Wouldn’t be caught dead with me otherwise, would you?” Anger from the past seeped into his voice.
One of Savannah’s knuckles cracked and Jake remembered that had always been the telltale sign she was pissed, liable to tear someone’s head off. Getting a reaction from her satisfied some twisted part of him deep inside.
“Hard to be caught dead or alive with someone who disappears for almost twelve years.”
“If I recall correctly, I disappeared after you told me to get lost.”
She hesitated then. “Are you saying you left because of me?”
Jake couldn’t help chuckling as he shook his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”
He would never admit the impact her blowing him off had had on him. But it had only been one part of what had convinced him to leave.
Savannah frowned, and he could swear her thoughts turned the air blue. But instead of letting loose as she once would have, she spun on her heel and stalked to the driver’s side of the van.
Jake watched her retreat, wanting like crazy to hate her. The fact was, though, that after all these years she still got his blood pumping and his brain fantasizing.
CHAPTER TWO
“YOU HAVEN’T BEEN BY the hospital yet, have you?” Jake’s sister stood in the middle of their grandmother’s spare bedroom with her hands on her slender hips, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal some kind of flashy jewelry in her navel. Jake noticed the tattooed claw of a dragon wrapped around an Asian-looking flower at her hip and would’ve laughed if he hadn’t known she would tear into him for that, too.
“You’ve got me here for a week,” Jake said. As he glanced from Emily to their maternal grandmother, who was perched on the antique armchair in the corner, he felt something inside himself softening. “Ten days, max.”
“You’ve already been here for two full days.” Emily continued to stare at him, her green eyes somehow conveying both steel and affection. “Shouldn’t need half that long to do what you came to do.”
Jake bent down and took an armload of books from one of the shelves, then carried the pile to the side table next to his grandma. Thinning out her bookshelves—stacked three books deep from the bottom—was yet another task Odessa had decided Jake should tackle while in town. “I came back for you, Em. Not for him.”
“I told you I appreciate that, but a visit’s overdue. If you don’t do this now, it’ll be too late.”
The tears in her eyes were like a physical blow. It wasn’t often his hard-shelled little sister cried. Her pleas over the phone had been the only thing that convinced him to return to Lone Oak, for the first time since he’d left.
Jake faced his grandma and picked up the top book from the pile. “John Jakes. Heaven and Hell. This sounds like something I might be able to relate to.”
“It’s part of a series,” Odessa Levine said, running her hand over her straight, grayish-white hair. “One you’d probably enjoy if you’d sit still long enough to read it.”
“I’ll save it for my retirement.”
“I’ll give it to the library,” she said, struggling to prevent the corners of her mouth from tipping upward any more at her grandson’s hopeless lack of interest in reading.
“He’s dying, Jake.” Emily broke in. “You have to set aside your testosterone-induced grudge.”
“I said I’d see him. Just not today.”
Probably not tomorrow, either.
Trying to make peace with his dad after all these years held about as much appeal as reading the entire works of Shakespeare—which he was sure his grandmother had here in her collection somewhere.
His old man had never been reasonable or the least bit concerned about family ties. If he had, maybe he would’ve apologized before now. But Jake hadn’t waited around for any miracles.
“Maybe it’ll go better than you expect with your father.” Odessa spoke as she sorted her books into two piles, keepers and ones for the library. This had to be done periodically, she’d explained in earnest, to make room for new books. That, or build an addition onto the house.
“Better than I expect would mean we don’t kill each other. I’d never dare to hope for an apology.”
“He’s different now,” Emily stated. “These past few weeks he’s been…forced to consider something besides work.”
“For the first time in his life.”
“That’s true. I’m not going to make him into something he’s not,” his sister said. “He’s still the workaholic dad who was never there for us. But facing death has made him reflect.”
“He’s scared,” their grandma said. “Fear does something to people. So does waiting to die.”
“If he’s so different, why aren’t you there now?” Jake asked Emily.
“I visited him this morning. I try to go by every day either before or after work.”
“So what else do we have to get done while I’m in town?” Jake asked, knowing any more talk of their father’s supposed change would just end up in a disagreement. He collected another stack of books and carried them to the table for sorting.
“We need to go through his house and everything in it,” Emily said. “He won’t be coming home.”
“You going to sell the house? Or move in?”
She shook her head. “I have my own place and I’m happy there. I figured we’d sell it.”
“That’ll be up to you. I don’t plan to be in his will. Don’t want a damn thing from him.”
Instead of disputing Jake’s assertion or scolding him, Emily nodded once, her jaw tight. No matter how unconventional in appearance she was, she’d always liked to dream about being part of a conventionally happy family.
Jake had given that up years ago.
Emily pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her black cargo pants and checked the time. “I have to get to the shop for an appointment.”
She stuck the tiny phone back in the pocket, bent to plant a quick kiss on their grandmother’s forehead, then turned toward Jake, arms open.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said as she hugged him. “Even if you’re not.”
He held on to her, still processing how much she�
�d changed in the past four years. “It’s great to see you, Em. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
Which was the truth. He understood now how stupid he’d been to stay away just because of his dad. He’d flown Emily out to visit him a few times, and their grandmother as well, but it was never often enough.
“I’m taking you to Dad tomorrow.” She was halfway down the hall when she spoke
“I’ll go by myself.” When he was darn well ready. “Demanding woman.” Only his grandmother could hear the last bit.
“I’m on her side, mister,” Odessa said. “If your dad dies and you haven’t even tried to make amends, you’ll likely regret it one day.”
Jake seriously doubted that. But he knew better than to continue this argument. He’d never win.
“Would you like to hear more about the meetings I had today, or do you just want to talk books?” he asked.
“Let’s go to the kitchen to discuss the land while I make dinner. We can finish the books tomorrow so you can haul them to the library.”
Jake pulled her walker around in front of her and moved to her side to help her stand.
“Thank you,” she said, then made her way out of the room.
When they arrived at the kitchen, Jake got glasses down for iced tea and his grandma removed the lid from the Crock-Pot on the counter. The aroma of home-cooked ribs made Jake weak in the knees.
“Needs another thirty minutes. Sit down. I’ll fix the tea,” she told him.
He looked at her skeptically.
“Sit,” she repeated sternly. “Quit treating me like I’m helpless. I know I’ve gotten slower, but if I just give up and stop doing everything, you might as well check me into the old folks’ home.”
Jake grinned and pulled out two of the chairs at the rectangular farmhouse-style table, then settled into one of them.
“So tell me about these meetings. Anyone worth talking any further to?”
“Both of them, frankly.”
After adding barbecue sauce to the meat, she made her way to the table, steering her walker with one hand and holding a glass of tea in the other. As she put the glass down, her hand shook.
“Grandma, would you sit down and let me get the other glass?”
She stopped and stared at him, silently, daring him to say another word.
Jake held his hands up in surrender. “No mystery where the stubborn in this family came from.”
When she finally returned with the second glass and lowered herself to the chair opposite his at the table, she began peppering him with questions about the development companies he’d met with.
“Sinclair Harris would like to build big beautiful custom homes on large lots,” he told her. “With rolling green lawns and long curving driveways. He’s got big ideas.”
“Does he realize no one in Lone Oak could afford his mansions?”
“He’s of a mind that professors from the university would move into them, in addition to some folks here who he claims could manage financing.”
“What’s so great about that plan?” his grandmother asked. “What am I missing?”
“You said you wanted the area to look nice. This would definitely be impressive.”
“Until the houses decayed from no one living in them.”
Jake nodded, acknowledging she was more familiar with the community now than he was.
“What about the other company?”
“Zach Rundle proposed building an old-fashioned neighborhood.” He explained in more detail what the man had told him. When he finished, his grandmother gazed at him thoughtfully.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“That sounds impressive. But I believe I’m in way over my head.” She took a sip of tea. “I shouldn’t have kept the land so long. Now I’m not sure I can handle this.”
“Of course you can, Grandma. I’m here to help you.”
“For a little while. What do I do when you’re gone?”
“You call me when you need me. But if I remember right, you’re capable of handling just about anything on your own.”
“Tell me about the people you met with. Are they decent folks?”
Jake didn’t hesitate. “Based on one meeting, I’d say so.”
“If this were your land, what would you do?”
He tapped his fingers on the table as he eyed his grandmother. He knew what his instincts were telling him, but sometimes it was necessary to let reason catch up. Jake thought about the men he’d met with today, about their projects. The call was an easy one. “I’d go with Heartland.”
She took another sip of tea, then watched the ice bob as she swirled the glass. “Very well. I believe I’d like to meet these people from Heartland. What’s next?”
TUTTLE’S DINER WAS still the only burger joint in town after all these years. That point was driven home for Jake as he sat with his grandmother and her book club at a long table on one side and, when the Monday evening dinner crowd thinned out, spotted Savannah in a booth on the other side.
The place hadn’t changed at all since he’d been here. Still the same decor, or lack thereof, still the same aromas from the kitchen. Even the specials handwritten on the board next to the cash register were the same, if memory served him correctly. The sameness was comforting in a way Jake had never expected anything in Lone Oak would be.
“Maybe Jacob could provide us some male perspective,” one of the women—either Grace or Mary, he thought—said with an eager grin.
“I haven’t read the book,” he replied for the seventh or eighth time. Nor had he been paying attention to their discussion. “But the general male perspective is that the woman is usually right, unless it involves tools or cars.”
The group of women, ranging in age from their mid-fifties to his grandmother’s eighty-one, chuckled and made sounds of approval.
“If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I see an old acquaintance.” Jake probably scrambled up too quickly, but he’d been sitting with his grandmother’s friends for well over an hour, and while they were all welcoming and tried to include him, he’d had enough discussion of Jane Austen for one day.
He stopped at the counter and requested a refill for his coffee, and as the waitress topped off his cup, he glanced around at the other customers. He spotted a couple of people who seemed vaguely familiar, but no one he could put a name to. He looked over at Savannah again. She didn’t appear to have noticed him yet.
Not until he reached her table did it hit him that she was sitting across from two kids.
“TWICE TODAY. Must be my lucky day.”
Savannah jumped in her seat at the sound of Jake’s voice. She peered up at his hulking form at the head of their table, then at her children, and she had to fight down the urge to escape. Maintaining a calm facade as she forced a smile was all she could do.
“Jake. What are you doing here?”
“Brought my grandmother up for her book club meeting.” He gestured to the table of women on the other side of the diner.
“Is that Mrs. Pope over there?” Savannah asked. “She was a teacher at the grade school until she retired last year.”
“Grade school, huh?” Jake eyed the kids curiously, then gestured to the booth she was sitting in. “May I? I’m Jane Austen-ed out.”
Savannah glanced nervously at Allie, who’d eaten half her meal before pulling out her sketch pad and losing herself in her drawing. Because she couldn’t think of an excuse to turn him away, Savannah moved over so he could sit down.
Jake smiled at Logan and Allie, then faced her. “You said there wasn’t a man in your life. I guess I didn’t know you had a family.”
“What with you leaving town for so long, I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know.” As soon as she said it, she silently scolded herself for getting defensive.
Jake watched her for a second too long, then addressed the children. “My name’s Jake.” He extended a hand to Logan, who got up on his knees in the booth and shook it for all he was worth. “W
hat’s your name?” Jake asked.
“Logan Michael Moser. This is my sister, Allison Elizabeth Moser. Mom’s name used to be Savannah Elaine Moser, but her last name changed to Salinger because she got divorced.”
Savannah cringed. Why couldn’t she have two children giving her the silent treatment instead of just one?
Jake glanced at her, a smirk on his face. “Saves me a couple of questions, anyway,” he said. “Would that by any chance be Michael Moser?”
“You know it is.” She raised her chin, daring him to say anything about her choice in husbands.
Jake focused on Allie, as if finally noticing she hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. “Allison Elizabeth. That’s a pretty name,” he said to her.
Allie continued to ignore him, working away with her pencil on the sketch pad on her lap.
“Allie,” Savannah said firmly.
Her daughter glared at her, then uttered a curt “Hi” to Jake.
“She gets involved in her drawings,” Savannah said, unsure why she felt it necessary to explain away her daughter’s behavior. The truth was this was status quo, and had been for the ten months since the divorce was finalized. In fact, Allie’s anger had begun when Savannah and Michael first split up. She apparently blamed Savannah more than Michael, because she treated him with a fraction of the hostility she showed Savannah.
“You like to draw?” Jake asked Allie. “I drew a lot when I was your age.”
That piqued Allie’s interest. “Did you draw horses?”
At that instant, it all came rushing back to Savannah—how Jake had been into art during grade school, working extra hard on his projects in art class, proudly but quietly accepting the teacher’s continuous praise. It was the one area in which Savannah hadn’t had a hope of competing with him. Maybe that was why she’d blocked it from her memory until now.
She tuned back in to their conversation, her stomach gurgling with nausea. Jake was listing shows and contests where Allie could enter her drawings.
“I didn’t realize you were still active in the art community,” Savannah said.
“I’m not. I haven’t been for years, but I’m certain those events are still around. Now it’s probably easier than ever to hook up with them. Just look online.”
