In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  “Yet. Meaning you will in the future?”

  “Meaning, let’s talk to Gramps first and then take it from there.”

  She was tugging on that loose thread in the blanket again. “I feel a little guilty. I confess, I can’t make myself ask Winona if she might be the woman in the diary.”

  He stilled her hand. “It’s done, Mel. I talked to Gramps about the old story. He said to bring you to see him.”

  “You’re braver than I am.”

  “Naw. But I am curious. Very curious. So? You up for meeting my Gramps today?”

  * * *

  Mel wanted to pick up the diary on the way to Snowy Mountain West. That worked for Gabe. He needed to have a look at the old book and the letter, anyway.

  He followed her to her place, where Homer greeted them at the door. The kitten jumped on Gabe’s boot and started chewing on it. “Hey, buddy. Easy there...” He picked up the little guy and Homer instantly began to purr. “I think he really likes me.”

  “No doubt about it.” Mel dropped her keys on the entry table, crossed the room to the bed and took a worn, leather-bound volume from the bedside drawer.

  Gabe set the kitten down and Homer darted away. With the diary pressed against her chest and apprehension in her eyes, Mel returned to where Gabe stood at the door.

  “Do I get to see it?” he asked when she stopped in front of him. She nodded and held it out. He took it. “Bejeweled, no less.”

  “Fancy, huh?”

  He traced the tooled letter A centered on the cover. Different-colored stones encircled it. He opened the book to the first page.

  “Is the handwriting familiar?” she asked.

  “No. But I don’t recall ever really noticing Gramps’s handwriting.”

  “Maybe if we could get a sample of something he wrote, we could take it and the diary to a handwriting expert.” She gazed up at him through hopeful eyes, her soft cheeks pink with excitement.

  “Maybe.”

  Her expression turned rueful. “I guess I shouldn’t go getting ahead of myself here, huh?”

  She looked so sweet and sincere. He wanted to drop the old diary on the table next to the keys she’d put there and pull her into his arms. They could spend the day in her bed instead of trying to coax information from an old man who rarely spoke anymore.

  Could she read his thoughts in his eyes? It sure seemed like it. “Oh, Gabe,” she whispered. “I keep saying I’m leaving at the end of the year, that I don’t want to get anything started with you, but this past week, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even though I was mad at you, I really did miss you. So much.”

  He set the book down by the keys, after all, and eased a hand around the silky nape of her neck beneath the glorious tumble of her long, blond hair. “And I missed you—everything about you. From the sound of your laugh to that sharp tongue you’ve got. And then there are those unforgettable blue eyes.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “And this naughty dimple right here. I missed this dimple so damn much.”

  The dimple in question deepened with her radiant smile. “Yeah?”

  “No doubt about it.” How could he resist? He swooped in and claimed that gorgeous mouth.

  She swayed closer and he wrapped her up tight in his arms, her scent of flowers and sweet vanilla making his head spin and his blood run hot in his veins. The kiss kind of took on a life of its own. She opened to him and he swept his tongue into the wet heat beyond her parted lips. He could have stood there, kissing her endlessly, into the next decade and beyond.

  But finally, she pulled back a fraction and drew in a slow breath. “Okay. Enough of your amazing, distracting kisses, Gabe Abernathy. We’re on a mission today. I want to meet your great-grandfather. Please?”

  Regretfully, he set her away from him and picked up the diary. “All right.”

  She hesitated. “I didn’t show you the letter. Do you want to read that first?”

  “Later. Right now, let’s just go.” She picked up her keys. He caught her hand. “You’re riding with me.”

  Did he expect the usual pushback? Yep. But he was pleasantly surprised when she said, “Fair enough. But I do need one of these keys to lock the door.”

  “I’ll allow that.” With a finger, he eased a heavy lock of hair behind her ear. And then he couldn’t resist bending closer, brushing his lips across hers just one more time.

  She made the sweetest, softest little sound of pleasure, like a moan that got caught on a sigh—and then she pressed her hand with the keys in it against his chest. “We can’t stand here all day, kissing at the front door.”

  He brushed his mouth across hers a second time. “Oh, no?”

  She gave another sweet sigh—and then pushed against his chest a little harder. “Out the door, mister. Now.”

  * * *

  Gabe felt a rising sense of anticipation as he ushered Mel into the reception area at Snowy Mountain West.

  “This is nice.” She gave him one of those glowing smiles of hers. “It’s open and inviting.”

  “Snowy Mountain is the best around. Especially for memory care. The environment is secure and comfortable with open rooms and wide hallways that are easy to get around in. Residents are monitored round-the-clock. Staff-to-patient ratio is excellent, too.”

  “Hi, Gabe.” Linda gave him a wave from behind the front desk. She glanced down at the big laptop screen on the desk. “Let’s see...ah. Josiah has just finished his supervised afternoon walk. He’ll be in his room.”

  “Great.” Gabe turned to Mel. “I just want to go see how he’s doing first, before I introduce you.” He gestured at a sofa and chairs near a picture window. “Have a seat. I’ll come right back for you.”

  “Sure.” Mel exchanged smiles with Linda and took one of the chairs.

  Gabe found Gramps in his rooms, as promised, sitting quietly in his recliner. “Hey.” He bent close. “How are you doing today, Gramps?”

  As usual, Gramps gave no response. His shirttail had come out of his belt on one side and his collar was slightly askew.

  Gabe gently tucked in the loose section of shirt and tugged the collar straight. “There. You look great. And today, you’re about to meet the woman you asked me to bring to you—you remember, don’t you? Her name is Mel Driscoll and she’s the one, Gramps. But remember, she’s not ready for love yet. So don’t tell her that I know she’s the one for me.” Gabe dared to look into those hazel eyes then.

  Nothing. He saw nothing at all.

  And that hurt. It hurt like hell every single time he had to face anew that the man who’d taught him how to be a man was never really coming back. Gabe would gladly offer up his big house and the fortune he’d made for himself in the past decade just to have his Gramps grin and give him a wink the way he used to do.

  “Don’t move,” Gabe said with forced cheer. “I’ll be right back.”

  As he retraced his steps to the welcome area, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. What if the sight of the diary upset the old man? Now and then, Gramps did get agitated. He would shout nonsense, even throw things. Gabe would have to call the staff to settle him down. Gramps had never hurt anyone physically, but it always broke Gabe’s heart to see the calmest, kindest man he’d ever known lose control.

  Mel had the diary. She held it close to her body, same as she had back at her apartment, as she rose and came toward him. When she got to him, she gazed up at him searchingly. “You look...unsure. Did something happen?”

  “No. It’s a day like any other day. He’s in his room, staring into space. You really shouldn’t get your hopes up that you’ll find out much from him.”

  “I understand.”

  No, she didn’t. But she would soon enough. “Okay, then. This way...”

  Gramps was right where Gabe had left him, sitting motionless in his favorite chair, his eyes b
lank and staring.

  “Gramps, this is the woman I told you about yesterday. This is Mel.”

  After no response from Josiah, Mel said, “I’m so pleased to get to meet you, Mr.—”

  “Call him Josiah.”

  “Um. Josiah, then. Hi, Josiah.” She gave the expressionless old man her prettiest smile, after which she sat where Gabe indicated, on the love seat across from Gramps. Gabe sat beside her. She held out the diary and started to say something, but then set it down on the coffee table and turned to Gabe. “I’m not sure how to begin...”

  He doubted it would matter what she said. But she was here now, and they were set on a course. There was nothing else to do but proceed. “I already told him the basic story you told me. He didn’t respond. You never know, though. Maybe if you tell him, the story will get through.”

  “Yes. All right.” She launched into a brief version of the ill-fated love affair between Winona Cobbs and the young man with the same name as Gramps. “Winona had a baby,” she said, holding out the diary again, explaining that the whole story was inside, including a letter tucked in the binding, written by Josiah Abernathy, who was also the author of the diary itself. “The letter says the lost baby didn’t die, after all, but was somehow taken by Josiah’s parents and given up for adoption. The letter claims Josiah knew who the adoptive parents were. Josiah, would you like to see the letter?”

  Gramps didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. His eyes seemed focused on nothing and everything at once.

  Mel shot a worried glance in Gabe’s direction.

  What could he say? “Sorry. I don’t think he’s going to be responding today.” He reached across the distance between the love seat and the recliner and clasped Gramps’s shoulder. His old bones seemed to poke right through his skin. “Okay, Gramps. Maybe some other day?” Gabe started to stand.

  Mel’s light fingers brushed the back of his hand. “Let’s stay. Just for a little while.”

  “He’s not going to suddenly have anything to say.” Irritation gave his tone a cold edge. He was angry at his own foolishness to have brought her here, made her a witness to a helpless old man’s painfully diminished capacity for even the simplest sort of human interaction.

  Her smile was as sad as it was angelic. “I get it. But we’re here. It seems rude to just get up and run out.” That cute dimple in her cheek kind of winked at him. “Sometimes, when I go to see Winona, I have a tall glass of water or a cup of tea and we just sit, you know, not saying a word, nice and quiet, enjoying the moment of being there. Together.”

  This woman. She drove him a little bit crazy, what with wanting her so much and trying not to lose hope that she would ever be his. She also bugged the crap out of him now and then. In addition, she kind of amazed him. Not a lot of women would want to hang around for any longer than necessary with an old man who rarely spoke and stared blankly at nothing for hours on end.

  Gabe couldn’t help but grin. “You want a tall glass of water, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Water would be perfect, Gabe. Thank you.”

  The room had a tiny rudimentary kitchen area—a bit of counter, a sink, cabinets containing plastic glasses and plates, a drawer with some flatware. There was also a mini fridge with an ice maker in the dinky freezer area. Gabe took down three glasses, dropped some ice cubes in each and filled them with water.

  He carried them back to the sitting area and deposited them on the coffee table.

  Mel pushed one over in front of Josiah and one in front of Gabe’s seat. The third, she sipped from. “Thank you, Gabe. Very refreshing.”

  He wanted to grab her and kiss her for being so sweet about this, for wanting to sit and visit with an old man whose visiting days were behind him. “You’re welcome.” He dropped down beside her and drank from his own glass.

  Mel relaxed against the cushions and glanced around. Her gaze landed on a large wedding portrait on the wall by the window, behind Gramps’s chair.

  “That’s Gramps and Great-Grandma Cora on their wedding day,” Gabe said. Gramps wore a baggy suit with enormous lapels. His bride wore a forties-style satin dress with a long, white veil.

  Mel frowned a little. “They look so serious.”

  They did, as a matter of fact. “Great-Grandma Cora was a quiet woman,” he said. “It was hard sometimes to know what she was thinking. She made the best buttermilk biscuits, though. I’ve never tasted any to compare. And she played the piano. Holidays, we’d gather ’round, including all my uncles and aunts and cousins. Great-Grandma would play Christmas carols and we’d all join in singing.”

  “My mom played the piano.” Mel’s eyes shone bright. “She was talented, a natural musician. I thought, since my mom had a talent for music, that of course, I would play, too.”

  “Do you?”

  She laughed. The sound was sweet and kind of goofy, too. It tugged on a tender place down inside him. “Nope.” She popped the p. “Frankly, I suck at it. I mean, we are talking no musical talent whatsoever.”

  He grinned at her. When he glanced across the coffee table, it seemed to him that Gramps had settled more comfortably into his big chair. He still stared into nowhere, his plastic glass of ice water untouched in front of him, but he seemed more relaxed about it, somehow.

  The strange little visit continued in the same vein. Mel noted personal items around Gramps’s room and Gabe explained their significance. She talked more about her mom and dad. It was so obvious she’d loved them very much and the loss of them remained fresh and painful for her.

  Gramps didn’t say a single word. He never made eye contact with Mel or with Gabe. But somehow, it felt like he was there with them, enjoying a nice visit, a little small talk and a cool drink.

  If Gabe hadn’t already been in love with the woman sitting next to him, he would have fallen right then, on that sunny Monday afternoon in his great-grandfather’s quiet living room at Snowy Mountain Senior Care. She was not only sharp and smart and strong. Mel had a good heart, a deep and natural kindness that made her even more beautiful than her pretty face and curvy little body.

  They ended up staying for over an hour. When they got up to leave, Josiah had yet to respond to their presence in any way beyond seeming to relax slightly in his chair. He sat silent, his arms stretched out, resting on the chair arms.

  As Mel rose, she took the diary in one hand. With the other, she reached across the coffee table to give the back of Gramps’s hand a quick, fond touch. “I’m so pleased to have met you, Josiah.”

  It happened right then. Gramps blinked two times and turned his hand over, palm up. His bony fingers closed around Mel’s. Gabe saw it happen and heard Mel’s tiny gasp. He felt a burst of pure joy—that Gramps had responded, that he saw Mel, even liked her.

  But then alarm jangled through him. Had Gramps frightened her?

  No. Her blue gaze met Gabe’s and she smiled her dazzling smile. “Do you see?”

  Gabe nodded, relieved Gramps hadn’t scared her, glad to see her pleasure at the old man’s reaction. “I do.”

  Mel turned her bright glance to Josiah again.

  But the moment of connection had already passed. Josiah had released her. His hand lay limp—palm still turned up, fingers curled inward like a dying leaf.

  “Josiah?” Mel asked softly, with the sweetest, saddest note of fading hope. “Come back...”

  But Gramps’s face gave her nothing. His curled hand didn’t move again.

  “Love you, Gramps,” said Gabe quietly, hating the resignation in his own voice. “See you soon.”

  Chapter Nine

  A few minutes later, out in the parking lot, Gabe opened the passenger’s side door for Mel and she climbed in. He went around and got up behind the wheel. They hooked their seat belts simultaneously.

  And then they both sank back in their seats. Maybe it was just him, but sorrow seemed to
weigh down the air around them. Gabe stared out the windshield at an empty bench beneath a pretty sugar maple several yards from the hood of his F-450.

  “For a moment there I really thought he might smile at me,” Mel said.

  “Yeah, well. That rarely happens anymore. Sometimes he speaks, but not much and usually in kind of a flat voice.”

  “I’m so sorry, Gabe.”

  “I really do think he’s still in there somewhere, but most of the time I have to admit that he’s just...not.” Was he being overly negative? She gazed at him as though she had no idea what to say. “On the plus side, the staff here is amazing. They kind of get him going on an activity and he’ll sort of carry through. But it’s all as though he’s on automatic pilot. Going through the motions by rote.”

  She wrapped her hands around the diary, which she’d laid on her lap. “I guess I was foolish to think he might have all the answers to this old mystery, huh?”

  “Not foolish. Just hopeful. And there is nothing wrong with having hope. I’m glad you came to meet him, even if it didn’t play out the way you might have pictured it.” And there he went, being a downer again. “Look at it this way, Mel. He did seem at ease around you. You were good with him. And hey, it could be worse. I’m grateful for every minute I get with him. I visit him at least once a week and we talk—well, I talk and sometimes I really do get the feeling that he understands everything I say.”

  She shut her eyes and turned away.

  “Hey, hey. What’d I do wrong now?”

  Slowly, she turned to face him again, her eyes open now. Her smooth throat worked as she nervously swallowed. “Nothing, Gabe. You did nothing wrong. On the contrary. I’m just feeling a little humbled right now, that’s all.”

  “Humbled? Why?”

  “You, Gabe. Sometimes we get crossways, I know. But you are a good man. You’ve got a lot of heart. And wherever things end up with you and me, well, I’m glad I went trespassing on Ambling A land that first day we met.”