Happily Ever After (22 page)

Joe rubbed Rip behind the ear as Ruby worked with his fur. He didn’t want to admit that the idea touched a desperate place
inside him.

“God wants to be your shelter too, you know. Relax inside His protection. Ask Him to help you forgive and tell Mona the truth.
God will take care of the rest.”Ruby pulled out the last burr and tossed it off the porch.“It’s either that or say good-bye
to Mona and spend the rest of your life wishing you hadn’t.”

Twenty-four hours later, Joe rolled into Deep Haven, nearly gagging from the smell emanating from Rip’s body. The dog’s odor
had only ripened over a day. “You need a bath and something stronger than Dial soap on that coat of yours.” He pulled up next
to the local dime store, thankful their summer hours had already started. The over-the-door bell jangled as he entered.

A slim brunette in a brown smock, pushing back age with too much makeup and cornrowed hair, looked up from the cash register.
“Ten minutes, pal.”

Joe nodded and headed toward the shampoo section.

He’d been fighting Ruby’s words the entire day. He thought spending the night at the Garden would help him come to peace with
the thoughts she’d stirred up. Face his past? He did that every day of his life. He was the one who lived with the guilt and
shame of abandoning his brother. But how could Ruby suggest he put down roots, surrender his freedom? Surrender his entire
life, she meant. He’d been living for the high of adventure for so many years, he’d crash hard if he suddenly had a permanent
address.

Maybe it wouldn’t be quite as painful, however, if Mona was there to catch him.

There he went thinking with his heart instead of his brain. Obviously his gray matter had turned to mush over the past four
weeks. Yes, he’d spent much of this past week harboring ideas—even dreams—of becoming at least a semipermanent fixture at
the Footstep. But if he were to take a hard look at the truth, he’d notice that Mona hadn’t mentioned one word about him staying
on. Hadn’t even breathed the thought, even if she did seem to enjoy his company. Unfortunately, he’d allowed her laughter
to seed all sorts of delicious dreams he’d never before acknowledged. Now they’d snowballed hopelessly out of control.

He wasn’t ready to chuck everything he’d built over the last ten years, was he? Freedom had a price tag . . .but staying put
could be his death knell. Contrary to Ruby’s smug presuppositions, his lifestyle wasn’t a pitiful excuse to hide from love.
The woman didn’t have an inkling about what it felt like to be stalked, to be constantly glancing over your shoulder, poised
for trouble. Even if he did satisfy Ruby’s prerequisites and figure out a way to forgive his father—and the odds of that were
slim—he’d still have to tell Mona the truth, and that would certainly obliterate his so-called privacy. Living in a glass
house would be a thousand times worse than saying good-bye to a white-picket fence and little people in sleeper pajamas.

What, now he was thinking about children? He blew out a breath and tried to focus on dog shampoo. Maybe a stubborn daughter
with green eyes and curly blonde hair whom he could delight with stories and tickles. Or a child with a cupid round face and
almond eyes. He groaned aloud. Yes, that was exactly the type of child that would fit into Mona’s ordered life. The Gabe problem
only cemented the many reasons for him to keep his dreams safely leashed.

He’d thought that some time away from the Footstep might straighten out the jumble in his brain. Might tighten his focus and
remind him of his liabilities. Unfortunately, as the day wore long, he only ached more to see Mona, despite the fact that
he’d buried himself in hours of work at the Garden. He felt wrung out, dirty, strangely alive . . . and terrified.

He was crazy in love with Mona. His own description of his “boss” to Ruby reverberated in his head over and over, and he’d
finally admitted the truth to himself sometime in the middle of the night as he listened to the mantel clock tick out the
hours. He loved Mona’s laughter, her determination, her dreams. He felt a tinge of relief to finally put a name to that hot,
explosive feeling that spread though his chest every time he thought of her luminous green eyes and the way the wind played
with her hair. Maybe that feeling was just the thing he’d been searching for all his life. Maybe God had answered the one
prayer he’d always been too ashamed to ask . . . to send him home.

Maybe Ruby was right. He needed Mona.

“Closing up, mister. Did you want to get something?” The brunette stood before him, hands on her hips, eyeballing him like
he was a shoplifter or the local hobo trying to find a place to park for the night. He certainly looked the part.

“Yes, dog shampoo.”

“You’re not going to find it standing next to cosmetics. Try third aisle down, next to the flea-and-tick medicine.” Her condescending
voice shrank him three sizes.

He slunk over to the pet aisle and grabbed the first bottle of shampoo he could find. The clerk was counting change at the
front. He plunked the bottle down on the counter and reached for his wallet. Flipping it open, he paused for a moment at a
picture of himself on a fishing boat, holding a coho salmon, surrounded by a group of grinning, grimy sailors. In the photo,
his hair was long and tangled, and he had at least an inch of whisker growth on his face.

“Hey, great picture!” The clerk leaned over and studied it, actually grabbing the wallet to pull it closer. “You know, I’ve
seen that photo somewhere before. . . .”

Joe stifled a groan. He pulled the wallet away. “How much for the shampoo?”

The clerk smiled as if she had a secret. “You’re not—”

“No. How much?”

She licked her lips and scrutinized him. “You know, if you added the beard, you’d look just like—”

“I don’t need the shampoo. Thanks anyway.” Joe spun on his heel and darted through the door before the clerk could finish
her thought.

Instead he’d spent the past month knitting together a facade of white lies. Lies meant to keep him and Gabe safe. Lies that
could unravel any moment.

No, he couldn’t stay.

He closed his eyes and fought the urge to weep.

After their date to the dump, Joe had disappeared all day Saturday and most of Sunday. Where to, she had no idea, but she
had missed him. Relief had washed over her when she heard his truck pull into the gravel drive late last night. Missing him,
she realized, was a fairly significant emotion. It meant she’d made room for him in her life. She was starting to depend on
him. She tried to ignore the rush of fear at that thought.

Her emotions did a tiny jig when he’d rapped on her back door this morning, just as dawn dented the sky, asking to be put
to work. Liza was already painting something in the back shed, and Mona had been making a list while brewing her first pot
of coffee.

One glimpse of Joe’s alluring smile had sidetracked her pensive thoughts of the upcoming day, and she had to fight to keep
her emotions at bay. But when he slid onto the counter, accepted a steaming cup of coffee, and said, “At your service, milady,”
she melted. She’d never had a problem with shyness before, but in that instant, words abandoned her. The twinkle in Joe’s
magnetic blue eyes didn’t help.

It took a long sip of coffee before she could say, “Bruce Schultz is bringing over the bookcases.”

“Great!” Joe exclaimed, as if moving furniture was exactly how he wanted to spend a Monday morning. Her face flamed, and to
her profound relief, the doorbell rang just then.

Mona raced Joe to the door and met Bruce. The old carpenter, wearing a faded flannel shirt and a fraying Minnesota Twins hat,
smiled through his tanned, wrinkled face. He was an old family friend with a long list of customers. She’d wisely put in her
order for handcrafted oak bookcases months ago.

“Got your order in the truck. Where do you want ’em?” Bruce hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and grinned. Joe extended
his hand and introduced himself. Bruce pumped it like they were old friends. Mona had to admit that Joe fit right in with
the Deep Haven wildlife.

Mona directed the movers to the living room, where the sunlight glided over the smoothly varnished floors. She’d spent the
rest of the day painting the final coat of varnish on her coffee bar and hanging a bright yellow, rose, and light blue plaid
swag over the newly painted front windows.

Now a heady peace swept through her as twilight polished the room in rose gold. Mona ran the dust rag over the paned-glass,
oak front door Bruce had installed. She’d commissioned the oval glass picture of a pine tree, lake, and rocky bluffs from
one of Liza’s art buddies in the city. The perfect rendition of heaven on earth.

Rip groaned in pleasure as Joe rubbed his ear. Beyond them, the red sun painted the lake in shades of cranberry.

Mona stepped outside and plopped down beside them on the steps, hugging her knees. “Why do you call him Rip?”

Joe cupped the dog’s snout. “He tried to eat me.”

“You survived, I see.”

Joe angled her a wicked grin. “Barely. He tore a hole in my favorite jeans. Hey, you don’t sew, do you?”

Mona returned a mock glare. “Don’t even think it.”She found it so easy to relax inside Joe’s honeyed laughter. “You seem to
know your way around animals.” She reached over and patted Rip on the head.

Joe caught her hand and directed it to a soft spot behind Rip’s floppy left ear. “Here. He likes it right here.”

The feel of Joe’s hand on hers sent waves of heat through her veins. The warmth lingered long after he let go and folded his
hands between his knees.

“I’ve had a few dogs,” he added. “First one was named Stretch. He was a dachshund I picked up in Mexico . . . saved him from
being a fella’s lunch.”

Mona swallowed a grin.

“The next dog was a cocker spaniel—blonde and feisty.” Joe cocked an eyebrow at her. Mona swatted him with her dust rag. “No,
she was sweet as sugar and with me for many years. Finally died one day in my lap as I was driving through Montana.”

“What was her name?”

“Olive Oyl.”

“Olive Oyl?” Mona frowned at him.

“You know, Popeye’s girl?”

She rolled her eyes. “So you think you’re Popeye?”

He pasted on a mischievous look and flexed his muscles. “No, I’m Brutus!”

Mona giggled, then gave way to a hearty laugh. It felt good.

Joe smiled at her approvingly. “It’s good to hear you laugh, Mona.”

She heard her name as a melody in his voice and felt an accompanying tingle down to her toes. “I laugh, Joe.”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not enough.Your laughter reminds me of the breeze from Lake Superior . . . refreshing
and clean.”

His compliment settled over her like a soft flannel blanket. “So, you’ve had a few dogs. Ever had any girlfriends?”

The bold question had incubated in the warmth of his kind words, but as soon as it escaped, Mona wanted to die on the spot.
Why had she asked that? It was so revealing and desperate. She felt like skipping herself into the lake surf, along with the
other shards of bare driftwood, and letting the waves wash her far, far away.

It seemed to catch Joe off balance as well, and it eased her pain to see he’d turned faintly red. He swallowed hard. She noticed
that all at once he found the sunset riveting. “A few. Not many. No one that stuck around.”

“Or you didn’t stick around for . . . ,” she added quietly. She was really going out on a limb, and her audacity stunned her.
But she had to know. Did Joe usually do the leaving? Or had he been left?

“Right,” he said simply, and her heart fell slightly.

“Maybe you just never found the right place to call home,” she offered softly.

“Maybe,” Joe whispered. He picked up a twig and threw it. Rip shot after it like it was fresh meat.

The air seemed hotter than she had thought, and the humidity moistened her skin. “I gotta get back to work,” she murmured.

“Mona, wait.” Joe’s voice, small as it was, practically grabbed her. “I have to know something. Why are you doing this? Deep
Haven is such a remote place, and you are so young to be settling down here. Why?”

The lilac tree in the front yard had just begun to bud clumps of lavender, but the breeze reaped the scent and perfumed the
sunset. Mona rubbed her knees and sighed. “This has been my dream since I was a kid. It just seemed to make sense, especially
after . . .” Mona let her explanation die. No need to bring it up. It wasn’t any of his business, especially if he wasn’t
sticking around. She felt her fragile hope start to wither.

“After?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” Mona sprang to her feet, shooting for a quick retreat. Tears stabbed at her eyes.

“Mona.” Joe caught her wrist.

“I think this will be a great place.”

Mona bit her lip. An unguarded tear made it over the edge. She smiled weakly. “You think so?”

Joe released her. “I know a little bit of heaven when I see it.”

Something like a whimper erupted inside her, and all at once she was sitting beside him and pouring out the entire wretched
story.

“I was born with a headstrong streak, and as my father’s only daughter, he fed the independent blaze. While I suppose it has
helped me pull together the Footstep, perhaps I wouldn’t even be sitting here if it weren’t for my penchant to have my own
way.”

Mona’s throat closed, but she forced words through.“It happened ten years ago, after our annual summer vacation here in Deep
Haven. My mom decided to stay on for another week; she likes the early autumn and the spray of firelight in the poplar and
oak along the hill. I, however, was starting school, and my pop had offered to help me move.” She closed her eyes, remembering
their last conversation.

“We left for home too late. I suppose neither of us could abandon the last sunset on the beach. We watched God paint the sky,
turning the lake from indigo to platinum.” Her eyes misted, and her voice turned ragged despite her attempts at composure.
“That last sunset was magnificent.”

Mona felt Joe’s eyes on her but refused to meet his gaze. Steeling herself, she curled her arms around her waist and continued,
tumbling over her words. “I insisted on driving, of course, even though we were both tired. The accident happened south of
Duluth on I-35 around midnight.” She focused on the blurry shoreline. “I don’t remember much. One second the road was a clear
black ribbon; the next, headlights blinded me like lasers.”

Her voice dropped to a wretched whisper. “I fell asleep at the wheel.”

When she felt Joe’s arm edge around her, she instinctively stiffened. “Thankfully, Pop slept through it. He never felt a thing.
I swerved and the truck broadsided us.” She swallowed the wool that had gathered in her throat. “I survived.”

She refused to surrender to Joe’s gentle nudge but was grateful for it all the same.

“My mom and dad were together twenty-five years. Three months after the accident, Mom bought a condo in Arizona.” Mona knew
she sounded bitter, but she couldn’t erase the tone from her voice.

Joe sat silently beside her, his arm around her waist. His presence eased the brutality of the memory, and as the wind dried
the tears on her cheeks, twilight slowly descended, a beautiful canopy of magenta and periwinkle.

“I don’t know why the Footstep is so important to me,” she finally offered, flicking a glance up at Joe. “But I feel like
I’ve been searching for something all this time, and it was right here waiting for me.”

Joe captured her gaze with his languid blue eyes that seemed more perceptive than she felt comfortable with.“Peace, maybe?”

Joe withdrew his arm, threaded his fingers together, and cracked his knuckles in a staccato rhythm. “I’m not sure. But peace,
maybe, sounds okay.”

“Come for a walk with me?” Mona ducked her head into Liza’s room. Liza sat cross-legged on her orange carpet, a garden of
pottery sitting on a plastic sheet arranged in a circle around her. “What are you doing?”

“Signing my stuff.” Liza looked up and grinned.“These are going to be collector’s items someday, you know.”

“Absolutely.”

“Where are you headed?” Liza returned her focus to the mug in her hand.

“Down to the beach. I have some stale bread I thought I’d throw to the scavengers.”

“Yum,” Liza said, but her attention stayed on the work in her lap.

Mona was just turning away when Liza glanced up abruptly. “I’m going to go see Brian. He’s sitting in the Deep Haven jail,
and I think he needs some company.”

A shocked gasp escaped Mona. “Why?”

“Because he’s our friend.”

“He’s our enemy. He tried to destroy us.”

Liza’s dark eyes glinted. “I know. But he needs some forgiveness, and we need to give it to him.”

Mona considered her friend. Liza had a way of seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. Reality never seemed to hit her
straight on. Even Brian’s deception and betrayal had only skimmed her emotions. Why?

“I’m not sure I can do that. He set out to destroy me, to wreck my dream. He even tried to kill me!”

Liza set down her pot. Her face flecked with the hue of sadness, and tears edged her eyes. “Mona, honey, you call this place
the Footstep of Heaven. And it will be, for both of us. I’ve been dreaming this particular dream since you suggested it five
years ago. But for it to truly be the ‘footstep of heaven,’ the fragrance of heaven needs to permeate this place, not just
be a sign over the door. We have to forgive, even if Brian doesn’t deserve it.”

The truth of Liza’s words struck a soft place in Mona’s heart, but everything inside her rebelled from the thought. Her face
must have reflected her pain, for compassion entered Liza’s expression. “I know it is harder for you, Mona. You have so much
more invested in this place than I do. But think about it.”

Mona nodded, unable to get words past her confusion.

“We can hardly expect God to forgive us when we don’t forgive others,” Liza reminded softly.