Small-Town Bachelor

by Jill Kemerer

Reed’s throat tightened, sympathy pressing against the backs of his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  His jaw tensed. “They blamed me.”

  “How could they blame you?”

  “I’ll never forget the hatred in her eyes when she pointed her finger at me and said, ‘You did this. You should have stopped her. She would be alive right now if you had done something.’”

  Reed jerked his head back. “Who? Why would anyone say that to you?”

  “Your grandmother. She never talked to me again. Didn’t talk to you either. I...I thought it would be better for both of us if we moved. The kids at school were gossiping, and, well, you were asking questions about the family. Why didn’t they visit anymore? Why didn’t anyone come over for your birthday? Why did Grandma ignore you when you saw her at the store? I was tired of the bad memories. Wanted a new start for both of us.”

  Reed tried to process everything as his breathing grew short and raspy. Why hadn’t he figured this out before? Why, with every word ringing true, was this such a shock?

  “I wish you had told me all this a long time ago. I thought—well, I thought I reminded you of Mom and you didn’t want to remember. That I’d done something wrong for the family to cut things off with me. I blamed myself for Mom dying, for losing the family, for having to move.”

  “You had nothing to blame yourself for.” His gruff words were full of conviction. “You were a kid. Innocent.”

  “But I didn’t know that,” Reed said, his voice rising.

  His dad sighed. “I thought you blamed me the way the others did. I felt bad all the time. I wanted to forget it and move on.”

  “With Barbara,” Reed said.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you did.”

  “I did.”

  Reed slumped, bringing his knuckle to his lips, and stared mindlessly out the window. “I’m glad you did. Barbara is a nice woman. One of the nicest I’ve ever met.”

  “She is.” He shot Reed another glance. “Why do you hate her?”

  Reed clenched his jaw. He deserved that one. “I don’t. I resented her. Maybe I still resent her.”

  “She never tried to be your mother.”

  “I know,” Reed said. “That’s not why.”

  “Spell it out for me.” A field with tall cornstalks waved them on.

  “You were comfortable with her,” Reed said. “You weren’t comfortable with me.”

  He slapped the wheel. “That was it?” And then Dad laughed. Loud. Long. “Here I thought... I’ve been pretty dumb. I had no idea.”

  Reed shrugged. “Well, now you know.”

  “Now I know.”

  “I lost everything when Mom died,” Reed said quietly. “In a lot of ways, I lost you too.”

  Dad’s chin trembled. “I want to make it up to you. I’ve always been proud of you, Reed. I hope you know that. I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t know how to show it.”

  The tough layers around Reed’s heart peeled away. “We need a do over, don’t we?”

  “Yeah,” Dad said shyly. “A do over. But first, I need you to do one thing for me.”

  Reed wanted to let go of the years of anger and disappointment. He’d wanted to for a long time. His decision balanced on the request. “What is it?”

  “Forgive me.”

  Those two words ripped down his soul, and he had to bite his lip to keep the threatening tears back. If Dad had any idea how much those words meant to him... “I forgive you.”

  He cupped his hand on Reed’s shoulder and squeezed it. Reed shook his head in wonder—the gesture he’d wanted to comfort Dad with had been given to him instead. Funny how life worked.

  They drove in silence several minutes.

  “Reed?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Would you prefer we spend time together without Barbara around?”

  Reed’s mind stilled. He used to want nothing more than alone time with Dad. No Barbara. But now?

  “No.” Reed shook his head. “I owe Barbara an apology, Dad. It’s time we all got used to spending time together.”

  “You mean it?” His face brightened.

  “Yeah. She’s been patient with me for—” Reed ran his hand through his hair “—well, for as long as I’ve known her. You’re fortunate to have her. I am too.”

  “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that. She’ll be happy. She’s always had a soft spot for you.”

  Reed’s stomach dropped. Barbara had loved him when he didn’t deserve it, and she continued to love him. He still didn’t deserve it.

  “Listen, if you change your mind about Chicago and want to start that business, you’ll stay with us. You get around pretty good on those things. We’ll take care of you.”

  The words fell like a shower on his parched heart. A family—his family—to rely on, to be part of?

  Thank You, God. I lost my world back there, but I gained my dad.

  * * *

  “Claire, it’s Tina. Congratulations, you got the job. Call me back when you get a chance and we’ll go over the paperwork. Thrilled to have you on board full-time.”

  Oddly numb, Claire tossed her purse on the table but ended the voice mail and kept her cell phone in hand. She got the job.

  Big deal.

  It had been five days since she last saw Reed. Four days and twenty-one hours to be exact. After she left him Saturday night, she’d retreated into her house and sat in a trance.

  What had gone wrong? He loved her. Love meant spinning in circles, being giddy, ecstatic.

  Not her. Five days of heartbreak. Of loneliness. Emptiness.

  Every day she went over what she could have done differently. What she could have said to change his mind. If she had tried harder, reasoned with him, kissed him one more time...

  But he’d left. Libby told her his dad took him to the airport Sunday morning. And Jake drove Reed’s truck back to him yesterday. Reed was gone. And so was her heart.

  Claire swiped a Diet Coke from the fridge and went out back to play with Hansel and Gretel. She had just over a week left with them. They were moving to the zoo next Friday.

  She took a sip. What was Reed doing now? She should have convinced him to move past his fears. Assured him he would always have a place in her family. He was a good man who didn’t deserve the treatment he’d received.

  Had she picked up the phone twenty times a day to call him? Yes.

  Did she still check her phone fifty times a day for messages? Uh-huh.

  She flopped onto a lawn chair and took a long drink from the pop. Hansel and Gretel raced to her, and she patted each of their heads before tossing them fruit slices.

  “Claire? Are you home?”

  Claire groaned. Aunt Sally pushed through the gate and joined her. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Come right out and tell me how you feel, why don’t you?” Claire flung another apple slice to Gretel.

  “You look like you haven’t slept in a month. And you’re wearing that awful fair T-shirt from five years ago. Goodwill wouldn’t even take it at this point.” Aunt Sally shook her head, her frosted pink lips puckered. “Even your brothers and Libby are concerned.”

  “Tell them to mind their own business. I’m fine.” Claire had successfully avoided their calls and texts. She didn’t want to listen to their lectures, gripes or whatever they had to say.

  “You call this fine?” Sally’s charm bracelet slipped down to her wrist with a tinkling noise. “You’re in love.”

  “So?” Claire lifted one shoulder.

  “So, you’re in love and you’re miserable, and the man you’re in love with is gone. Does he love you? No, don’t answer that.”

  Good, because she didn’t want to answer. Thinking
about it made her lower lip tremble. She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of Aunt Sally and the otters.

  “I know he loves you,” Sally said. “It was written all over his handsome face.”

  Claire bit the inside of her cheek, trying to curb the welling emotions within. Reed did have a handsome face.

  “If you love him, and he loves you, why are you sitting in this backyard while he’s somewhere else?”

  “What do you mean?” Claire asked.

  “I mean—” Sally widened her eyes “—do you want more than this or not?”

  Claire rotated to take in her yellow cottage, the deck Dad built, the flowers spilling out from planters, the fenced yard, the gurgling pond and the otters chasing each other in the sunshine. Did she want more than this?

  “I love my life,” Claire said. The words lacked conviction.

  “I know you used to love it, but can you still say that now that you’ve met Reed?”

  Claire gripped the can. For years she’d thanked the Lord for all her blessings. She’d been given enough and she’d been content with what she had. But now...

  Lord, I didn’t ask for more, but I got it. And then I lost it. What do You want from me? Is this Your plan? Staying in Lake Endwell, working at the zoo and being with my family? Or are You trying to tell me something else?

  Aunt Sally leaned her forearms on the back of the chair opposite Claire. “I talked to Libby and Dale. From what I can tell, Reed’s been a loner for a long, long time. Maybe being around our close family is too hard for him. Plus, he has a successful job and might not want to give it up. Expecting him to come here, well, it might be unrealistic on your part. If you love him and want to be with him, you’re going to have to decide what’s more important to you—staying here where everything is comfortable or taking a risk on Reed.”

  Claire sat up straight. “I am comfortable here. I’ve always been comfortable here. It’s home. It’s close to my loved ones.”

  “But you have a new loved one now, and it’s not close to him.”

  “That’s the problem. He has this ridiculous theory that he drives families apart.” She leaned back, defeated. “Like he left for my benefit. I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe he has a good reason to believe that, hon.”

  “But he wouldn’t give me a chance.”

  “You sound like your sister. Unreasonable. Are you scared of not being with your family?” Aunt Sally pointed at her. “Think about it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The view of Chicago’s skyscrapers was usually spectacular on a clear morning, but Reed barely glanced at it. He hadn’t been able to enjoy much of anything—not the trip to Denver with John, not finding out they landed the hospital project, not even getting his cast off yesterday. His leg was pale and thin, but he’d ditched the crutches. His life was back.

  His life was back...in Lake Endwell with Claire.

  Two weeks had felt like eternity.

  Stop thinking about her.

  She wanted more from him. Wanted him to create a new life there. She’d confessed her love and stuck to her guns. He’d told her he loved her, but did she believe him? Didn’t she see he had to leave? That he would do anything to keep from hurting her?

  Reed propped his feet on the coffee table. She wanted to be first. He wanted the same. A few calls and texts wouldn’t be enough for him either.

  Swinging his legs around, he perched on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands. The only person who was happy about Reed being back was John. And Reed didn’t have the heart to confide in him. What would he say? You know that vice president title I’ve jabbered on about nonstop for years? Well, turns out I don’t really want it after all. You understand, right?

  Not even close.

  He’d gotten calls from Dale, urging him to reconsider. Dale apologized for the drama and told him he was sorry he ever mentioned being Reed’s superintendent, that he didn’t realize his kids would put up a fight. He wanted Reed to come back and start the business with or without him. No matter what.

  Reed sighed and pushed off the couch.

  Why was he still thinking about it? He’d made his choice. A stack of reports to mark up this weekend towered on his counter. Life was back to normal.

  But he didn’t want normal. He wanted...

  To start the business with Dale as his superintendent and Claire by his side every minute of every day. It would only take a minute to call her, to ask how she was doing. Were the otters okay? Did she get the zoo job? Would she forgive him?

  He picked up the phone, dialed.

  “Hello?”

  “Barbara?” Reed had called Barbara the day after his heart-to-heart with Dad, and he’d apologized. Asked her if she’d forgive him. She’d been thrilled.

  “Hi, Reed. Should I get your father?”

  “No, actually, I wanted to ask you something. It’s...well, I need some advice.”

  “I’ll be happy to try.”

  “It’s about Lake Endwell.”

  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

  “I’m not sure I fit in there.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  Reed swallowed. Opening up, revealing things, being vulnerable—this was just as hard as he’d expected. “I tend to leave casualties in my wake. Mom’s family. Collin’s.”

  “Reed.” She had her stern voice on. “You listen to me and you listen good. Your mom’s family lost you. Collin’s family lost you. They chose to cut a worthy young man out of their lives, and the loss was all theirs. And for the record, your dad and I knew you were never to blame for Collin’s mistakes.”

  Barbara had had every reason to write him off from day one. He’d never warmed to her. Never let her inside his world. And yet she’d seen beyond his hard shell to the person he was inside and...believed he wouldn’t do drugs or blame his friend. His throat closed in.

  When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Does this have anything to do with Claire?”

  “It might.” He tightened his fingers around the phone. Was perspiration breaking out on his upper lip?

  “I like Claire,” she said.

  So did he. A little too much. Was he an idiot for leaving her? She loved him. He loved her. Why was this so complicated?

  “Yeah,” he said. “Claire’s special.”

  Barbara made a tsk-tsk sound. “But you’re scared to take a chance?”

  “Every time I get close to people, I lose them. I finally have Dad back, but will it last? The only person I haven’t lost is Jake and only because I made sure to live far away from him.”

  “Reed, God wants you to have a full life. You might think you’ve protected Jake by staying away, but the only thing you’ve done is protect yourself from getting hurt.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I’ve been praying.” He’d been on his knees more times in the last week than in his entire life.

  “Good. Praying is the best thing to do. Do you feel led one way or the other?”

  “I was led to call you.” A frustrated breath escaped. “What do I do?”

  “Keep praying. And take a chance.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, Reed.”

  He hung up, his thoughts all over the place. His gaze landed on his worn Bible.

  Lord, my head tells me I’m doing the right thing by staying here, but my heart says I’m making a mistake. Is Barbara right? Am I protecting myself? I don’t know Your will. Show me what to do.

  Opening the Bible, he flipped to the Psalms. The words practically jumped out at him.

  He rubbed his eyes and read it again.

  Boy, did they stand out!

  “God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing; but the rebellious live
in a sun-scorched land.”

  God sets the lonely in families...

  He bowed his head, overcome with clarity. You used my time in Lake Endwell to bring me to my family. Claire made it possible for me. You put me there. I was lonely.

  I am lonely.

  And in that moment, he knew what he was going to do.

  * * *

  Claire surveyed her backyard, empty of toys, empty of otters. The babies had moved to the zoo yesterday. She’d said goodbye and cried all the way home.

  Life had changed too much this summer.

  She slipped out of the backyard and trekked next door. No Reed. Just a vacant cottage.

  Like her vacant backyard.

  And her vacant heart.

  Claire sat on the edge of the dock with her feet in the water. The forest across the lake waved to her. She didn’t wave back. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the whispers in her head, the voice of Aunt Sally asking if she was afraid to leave her family, the plea in Reed’s eyes when he told her he had to go.

  God, this isn’t what I had planned.

  What did she have planned? She’d known the otters couldn’t stay. Known Reed couldn’t either. But she never realized she’d be so desolate in the aftermath.

  A sob choked her, and she tried to hold it back, but it erupted. Another followed, and another, until tears flooded her face, and she went beyond sobbing to the ugly cry with hiccups.

  What was she supposed to do? Her life’s purpose was here. Taking care of her family.

  Wasn’t it?

  She sniffled, wiping her nose. Of course it was. Being here for Libby and everyone else fulfilled her. And she started her new position at the zoo next week.

  But Libby had Jake to watch out for her now. And her brothers had each other. And the otters would be cared for no matter what.

  Could her purpose have changed?

  I’ve been clinging to something You only intended as temporary, haven’t I?

  A fish jumped two feet in front of her. The splash rippled out to her feet.

  Was God taking away everything she loved?

  Or had He taken away these things to get her on the path He’d planned for her all along?