Happily Ever After (14 page)

Downed branches and torn leaves littered the road to the Garden, the legacy of the previous night’s tempest. Joe swerved his
pickup around bottomless puddles, trying not to eject a stiff-legged Rip from the bench seat. The forest breath blew a pine
scent through the truck cab’s open window, and when the wind stirred the trees, droplets covered the windshield.

Joe’s eyes burned and weariness dragged his shoulders down, although not because he’d already put in a full day’s work. Unraveling
the mystery behind Mona’s haunted eyes made him toss the night away in sleepless eternity. Did it have something to do with
her father’s death? The news had made him want to weep. Joe knew what it meant to lose a father.

Just as disturbing was the sudden freeze emanating from Mona’s side of their friendship. She all but hid from him yesterday,
and his frustration with her fear tied him into knots. So they’d shared a kiss, one that he knew he should never repeat despite
the fact it never drifted far from his thoughts. It didn’t mean he was going to take her in his arms their first moment alone.
In fact, he was pretty sure he had the internal fortitude to make sure it never happened again. Pretty sure.

It hadn’t escaped him that the woman had wrung him out in the matter of a week. She’d drawn him in with her mischievous smile,
let him splash about in her liquid green eyes, then spit him out into the cold world of rejection. He was feeling about as
skinned and raw as the birch trees.

He’d spent the night listening to the storm slam against his windows and watching battered trees lurch in shadows across his
ceiling. Sometime during the gale, he realized why he had always avoided anything complicated with the female persuasion.
He didn’t have the strength to endure the wounds and scrapes it took to let someone crawl inside his heart. Love required
vulnerability, sharing secrets.

Eventually it would mean revealing Gabe.

And wouldn’t that just drive a woman into his arms?

If Joe had inherited any abnormal chromosomes, the type that caused Gabe’s Down syndrome, the possibility of his having such
a child was a reality. Could a relationship survive the stress of a handicapped child? His parents’ hadn’t. Even if it could,
Mona in particular had no room in her dream for a child, especially a child with special needs. No, letting Mona sneak into
his heart was a pivotal mistake. The memory of her sweet lips only turned the blade. He thanked God that she had made it clear
he would be job hunting in four weeks. He’d dodge her like a case of the flu, then sever the strings and never look back at
the Footstep of Heaven.

Joe drove up slowly, his wheels sluggish in the mud near the porch.

Ruby sat in a rocking chair, reading a book in her lap. She glanced up, and he was warmed by her welcoming smile. She trotted
down the stairs as he stepped from the cab. Rip spent an entire two seconds greeting her, then scrambled toward the woods,
in search of playmates.“We missed you yesterday.”

“Yup,” Joe acknowledged. “I got tied up with a problem in town.”

“Doing some business in Deep Haven?”

“Sort of.” He looked past her. “Is Gabe around?”

Ruby squinted at him, then nodded. “In his room.”

Joe took the porch stairs two at a time. He felt Ruby’s eyes on him as he disappeared into the house. She knew way too much
for his own good.

Gabe was sprawled on his bed, running his finger under the neatly printed words of a letter. His mouth moved as he read. Joe
watched him for a moment, then greeted him from the door.

Gabe looked up, delight lighting his features. “Joe!”Joe could never get over the way the day brightened with Gabe’s smile.

“What are you reading?” Joe hooked his thumbs onto his belt loops. A shadow crossed Gabe’s face. He sat up and swung his feet
onto the floor, holding the letter in both hands. The big, bold writing seemed familiar to Joe, and a jolt of pain ripped
through him.

“A letter.” Gabe’s eyes focused on the carpet.

Joe’s voice cracked in his parched throat. “From whom?”

“Dad.”

“Really?” He felt weak as reality hit him square on.Ruby was right. Dad had been writing to Gabe. It took everything in him
not to swipe the letter and tear it into pieces.

Gabe held out the letter. “Want to read it?”

Joe shuffled back, reeling. “Nope. Thanks.”

“Why not? It’s from Dad. He misses you.”

Joe turned from the hideous letter and stared out the window. Why did his father have to come back now?He’d been gone long
enough for the wounds to scab over. Joe closed his eyes, his emotions raw.

He didn’t want to run. Despite Mona’s cold shoulder, something pulsed inside him to stay, to forsake even the unfinished business
deal throbbing at the fringes of his brain, and dive into this one final project. Besides, wouldn’t turning tail and stalking
out of Gabe’s room shred every beautiful thread he’d woven into their new brotherhood? Perhaps Ruby was right. He might solve
this problem better by sticking around. His father had run. Joe wouldn’t. “Let me see the letter.”

Joe’s hands shook despite his resolve to stay calm.Even after eighteen years, he could hear his father’s baritone as he read
his words:

Joe had felt something inside rip asunder. It had taken him eighteen years to sew it back together. He’d run before he had
to face that kind of pain again.

His father had betrayed them all, and now he was writing letters to Gabe. Bitterness seized Joe. He battled an urge to crumple
the letter. Instead, he handed it back to Gabe. Gabe folded it and slipped it into a plain white envelope. A thick silence
wedged between them.

Gabe’s eyes were red-rimmed, and Joe saw his brother’s question written on his face before he voiced it. “Why don’t you like
Dad?”

Joe’s voice was tight. “Why do you think?”

“Because he left us,” Gabe softly answered. “He left Mom and you.”

“And you.”

“I know.” Gabe wrung his hands together. “But he’s sorry.”

Joe folded his arms across his chest. “It doesn’t matter. He ran out on us.” His voice pinched. “He left us. He broke Mom’s
heart. It was his fault she died. She worked so hard; it was probably her ulcer that caused her stomach cancer.”

“Mom didn’t say that,” Gabe retorted. “She said Dad was different. That he changed. Dad is a Christian now.”

“They came here right before Mom died. That’s when I met him. She told me.”

Joe winced and drew in a painful breath. “He came back? How come Mom never told me?”

“She didn’t have time. She got sick fast. When you came home, Dad was afraid to talk to you.” Gabe’s voice, straining to form
the words, betrayed his fear in pitch and tone.

“They were together when she died, and she didn’t tell me?”

Gabe nodded.

Joe’s eyes stung. He gritted his teeth against the pain that threatened to shred him anew. Why had she kept it from him? He
realized that to Gabe it was simple. Dad had been gone, and now he was back. But Joe wanted more thorough answers. Why had
Dad left? And why had Mom kept the truth from him? He clutched his head with his hands, feeling her loss like a fresh blow.
Even when she died, he’d found the truth hard to accept. He’d flown in, spent the day with Gabe, and escaped before the sun
had set. He’d berated himself a thousand times for his callousness, but he’d done it to survive. If he’d stayed, he would
have shattered. And then who would have been there to pick up the pieces?

“Mom said she forgave him, Joe. And she wanted you to do it too.”

“He left you too.” Ruby stood at the door, her hands in her pockets.

Joe glared at her. “This is a private conversation.”

“It’s so private I can hear you down the hall.”

Joe clenched his jaw and ran his gaze up to the ceiling. “You don’t understand, Ruby. You haven’t been here long enough. You
don’t know the history.”

“I’ve met your father. I know he deeply regrets his actions. I know he’s trying to make it up to Gabe. He would like to make
it up to you too.”

“He won’t get the chance.”

Ruby raised her eyebrows. “Why? Are you going someplace? Running out on Gabe, just like your father ran out on you?”

Joe tried to strangle her with a look, but Ruby didn’t flinch. “You have no right.”

“I call it like I see it, Joe. I see you running all over the world, afraid to turn around and face the past.”

“I’m not afraid. And I’m not running. Somebody has to earn a living to pay for Gabe’s room and board. Our no-account father
isn’t going to do it.”

Ruby crooked a finger at him. “Follow me.”

Joe cast a look at Gabe, who watched him with wide eyes. Why did his brother have to hear this? Hadn’t he had enough pain?
Joe drew a shuddering breath and stalked down the hall.

Ruby was in her office, flipping through a file. She held it out to Joe. He pasted her with a look of annoyance, then scanned
the paper. It was the rundown of monthly services at the Garden. The total seemed significantly higher than his automatic
monthly payment.

“Ever wonder why your payment hasn’t been raised in four years? Look around you. This place has been completely overhauled.
And you haven’t paid one red cent more. Why? Because your father’s been filling the gap.”

Joe closed his eyes. Frustration boiled through him.

Why was his father interfering with his responsibilities?

Why couldn’t his father leave Gabe and him alone? He opened his eyes and handed the file back to Ruby. He must have worn a
wretched expression, for her anger dissolved and pity entered her face.

“Joe, don’t you think it’s time to forgive and be a family again? For yourself as much as for Gabe. You’ve made a good living
these past years, and I know you’re trying to help your brother, to tell him you love him. But he needs you, not your letters.
Please consider staying.”

“I can’t,” he rasped. “I have a brother who depends on what I do. And if I stuck around, someone could get hurt. We both know
that.” He challenged her to argue with the look in his eyes.

The wall clock ticked; the plush carpet gobbled the sound. In the kitchen, a group of residents laughed while wiping supper
dishes. Joe felt Ruby’s eyes on him, and he suddenly wanted to sink into the leather couch and hide.

“Joe, what would be harder for you? Forgiving your father, or staying and learning to forgive yourself?”

Joe ran until his lungs burned. Sweat dripped off his chin, and he bent over to gulp in the cool air.

Joe straightened, clasped both hands behind his back, and walked slowly down the gravel road. In the woods across the drainage
ditch, he could hear Rip joyfully tramping after some wildlife creature. The wind hissed through the birch, rustled the balsam,
and scented the air evergreen. Joe glanced behind him at the sinking sun. It bled orange and red as it dissolved into the
horizon. He sighed, knowing he was no closer to peace than when he’d arrived home, changed into his athletic pants and running
shoes, and raced off down Main Street.

He whistled. Rip answered from the folds of the forest. Joe began to stroll the three miles back toward town.

Sweat dripped down his back, his heart pounded through his chest, and his legs trembled from exhaustion, but the physical
exertion helped clear the fog from his mind, helped him focus. Wherever he ended up on the globe, running elevated him beyond
the plane of the obvious, let him see the big picture and talk to his maker. His sneakers were worn to a nub from miles of
conversations with God.

“God, You’re making this trip a bit too personal. I want to help Mona with her bookstore dream, but why did You have to bring
my father into the picture?”

Joe increased his pace, focused on his feet grinding against gravel.

The wind stirred the trees, but no voice replied. Joe clenched his fists and marched into town.

The clouds were streaked red as if painted across a gray palette. For a Monday night, the town rumbled with activity, belying
the three weeks left until opening day of tourist season—Memorial Day. Pickups rolled by, tenting gear and fishing poles poking
out of their beds. A string of gleaming Airstream motor homes blew exhaust at the only stoplight in town, drenching the fresh
lake air with diesel fumes.

Joe had left Mona working like a machine, scrubbing old varnish off a bowling alley bar she’d picked up at Bowl-O-Rama just
north of town. He’d also noticed the smell of fresh lacquer paint wafting from Liza’s workshop as he’d descended his attic
stairs. The ladies were waging a war against time, and as he counted the pickups loaded with bait and coolers, Joe wasn’t
so sure his employers were going to win. He hated to see them fail. It was hard enough to face his own defeat.

From a block away, Mona’s bedroom light flickered like a beacon in an otherwise dark and gloomy Footstep of Heaven. An ominous
shadow obscured the backyard and Liza’s deserted workshop. Joe made a mental note to pick up some yard lights on his next
hardware run.

He whistled for Rip, who had taken a side trip toward Pierre’s Pizza. The dog bounded toward him, a prize in his mug. Joe
scowled in disgust. “You have dog food, you know.” The Labrador sat, raised his brows, and gave Joe a look that resembled
something Mona would have produced if he’d offered her instant coffee.

“Right.” Joe chuckled and laid his hand on Rip’s head. To his surprise, the dog dropped the pizza and growled.

Stunned, Joe snapped back his hand.

“You should muzzle your mutt in city limits, Michaels.”

“Brian,” Joe said stiffly. No wonder Rip had growled.Joe gave him points for taste.

Brian was casually dressed for a man who loved to show off his threads, wearing a pair of faded Levi’s and a bulky windbreaker
that seemed many sizes too large.

“Going camping?” Joe eyed the backpack slung over Brian’s shoulder.

Brian chuckled, but his dark eyes flashed and held no humor. “Where’ve you been?”

Joe shrugged. “Here and there.”

Brian’s eyes pinched, and the pause between the two men grew pregnant with distaste. “Where do you run off to all the time?
What’s your business in my town?”Brian demanded.

Joe clenched his jaw. “Same as you, Whitney. Trying to eke out a living.”

“No. I live here. You’re a drifter, just passing through. For all I know, you’re a parolee, searching for your next big heist,
or—” he smiled wickedly—“maybe you’re a serial killer waiting to prey on two innocent women.”

Joe battled the image of sinking his fist into Brian’s smug face and greased on a fake smile. “There’s only one person in
this town I’d murder, Brian.”

Brian’s smile dimmed.

“And that’s the person who stands in the way of Mona’s dreams.”

Brian didn’t even bother to disguise his glare. “Accord ing to Mona, that’s you, Joe. Something about a hose left on, flooding
the basement?”

All the fury that had been gathering inside him since he’d seen Brian knock Mona into the Kettle River, aided and abetted
by Ruby’s merciless comment, sent Joe into a full boil. He balled his fists, shaking. His voice was tight, his words clipped.
“We both know who did that.”

Brian acted surprised, but Joe plowed ahead. “I don’t know if it was a mistake or on purpose. But I meant what I said. Don’t
try and sabotage Mona’s dreams.”

“Why would I do that?” Brian held out his hands, and Joe nearly slapped them away.

“C’mon, Rip,” Joe muttered, eyes still on Brian.

Brian chuckled as Joe strode past him. It rankled Joe, but he refused to turn back. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he
strode toward the dark house.

The sky had bled out and only metal gray remained on the horizon. The wind sliced through his sweatshirt and raised gooseflesh
on his skin. A faint, sour odor assaulted him as he turned up the front walk of the Footstep. It was most likely the aftereffect
of his acrid meeting with Brian.

His resolve solidified as he stalked around the house and up his stairs. If he stuck around, it wouldn’t be to forgive himself
for leaving Gabe. It would be so he wouldn’t have to fight the guilt of abandoning Mona.