Happily Ever After (5 page)

“Not a chance. But lucky for us. Look at this.” Liza held up a frayed blanket, revealing a very old, chipped, pool-hall piano.

Mona’s eyes widened. “It’s gorgeous.”

“And it’s ours!” Liza exclaimed triumphantly.

“Yeah, but how’re we going to get it in the house?”

Liza made a wry face. “We need muscles.”

“Somebody call me?”

Mona whirled. Joe Michaels held on to the upper frame of the door, leaning into the shed and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
A fine layer of perspiration added to his rumpled, masculine appearance. His hair spiked around the baseball cap, his blue
eyes teased, and Mona felt something inside her give way. She forcibly gathered her composure. “Well, Mr. Handy, we’re gonna
need more than your brute force to wrestle this inside.”

“How about Brian?” Liza offered. “I’ll ask him tonight when he comes over.”

Mona’s jaw dropped. “I thought you said . . . ”

Liza’s piercing gaze silenced her. “Some things I don’t do for myself.”

Irritation hissed through Mona. Liza had invited him over for her! She turned away.

“Well, surely you ladies aren’t going to let all this brawn go to waste.” Joe stepped between the two women. “Give me something
to carry.”

Mona didn’t know whether to thank him for peacemaking or throttle him for interfering. She wanted to let her best friend have
it with both barrels. Then a dusty, wooden box set upon a pile of red bricks diverted her attention from her frustration.
“What’s this?” She climbed over a rusty wheelbarrow.

Joe met her in the corner. “Looks like an old phonograph.” “

Really?” Mona reached to pick it up.

Joe leaned past her, grabbing the case. “Let me earn my keep.”

Mona scowled. “I can carry this just fine. I think if I can muscle a canoe onto my shoulders, I can handle this.”

Joe’s eyes darkened, and his smile faded slightly.

“Sorry to interfere with your feminist moment. Here.”

He dropped the box into her outstretched arms.

It weighed more than she’d imagined. Mona stifled a grunt and lugged the phonograph out of the shed. She set it down carefully
onto the grass, ignored Joe’s presence behind her, and worked the rusty latches. When she pried open the box, the sight rocked
her back onto her heels. The RCA, complete with a record changer, appeared in mint condition, despite the battered case.“What
a treasure,” she gasped.

“I think there are a lot of treasures to be found here if we keep searching,” Joe commented softly.

Mona met Joe’s blue eyes and saw his sincerity. Her fury dissipated. He was just trying to help, and she wasn’t giving him
the chance. He smiled. It drew her in like an embrace. Then the sun moved out from behind a cloud, and his shadow grew long
and covered her.Funny how she felt so comfortable inside it.

“Sorry I got angry.”

He shrugged. “I shouldn’t have assumed. You hired me to help, not take over.” His relaxed posture and the crooked grin on
his handsome face spoke forgiveness.

She returned his smile, friendship taking root in her heart. Perhaps he was right. There were treasures all around her—she
just needed to keep her eyes open.

Joe sat in the round attic windowsill, a book open in his lap, watching Mona dig a trench for flowers along the front walk.
She was hard at it, had been all day.Looking beyond her, he noticed the low red sun turning Lake Superior into copper. Weariness
seeped through his bones. Mona’s little dream pushed his abilities to the edge, although he’d patched roofs, reworked plumbing,
and built homes all over the world.

Joe forked a hand through his stubby hair and closed the journal he’d been writing in. He took solace in recording his daily
activities, as if penning them onto paper gave his thoughts and travels coherency. Purpose. Sometimes they even offered hints
at solutions for the trouble that dogged him. But today he found no peace in scribing his jumbled thoughts. Rip sprawled in
a streak of sunlight on the wood floor, sides heaving in largo rhythm. “Tired from all the squirrel chasing today, huh?”

The dog’s ears perked, but his eyes remained shut.

Joe tossed the journal on top of the refrigerator, then plopped down on the orange-and-black sofa he’d picked up earlier at
the local Goodwill. He’d been mildly surprised to find one in a town this small, but he’d chosen the least lumpy sofa, paid
twenty bucks, and hauled it home in the pickup. Remembering Mona’s horrified expression when he lugged it home, he laughed.

She would be a tough one to win over. He saw it in the way she quickly hooded her feelings, snatching them in whenever they
wandered. She didn’t trust easily and depended only on herself. She had a story to tell, evident from the haunted look that
flickered in her eyes every time she stared at the house. Something would reach out and entwine itself around her, and she
had to forcibly shake herself free. In the residue of her gaze, pain prowled so vividly he knew she’d lived with it a long,
desperate season.

Yes, God’s hand had surely directed him to this ramshackle Victorian. The place met his needs. He could stay in shape, pay
up on the debt he owed, and be honest when he told his brother he had a job in town. And maybe he could help Mona and her
roommate in the bargain. Joe chuckled, remembering the spark that lit between the two ladies. Obviously they had a tightly
knotted friendship, but he’d walked into a powder keg today, judging by Mona’s face.

He couldn’t help but admire Mona for putting action to her dreams, even if her feisty independence did ignite all his protective
instincts, something he’d have to learn to douse. She reminded him of a lady he’d met not so long ago, someone whose sassy
demeanor lit a spark in his masculine heart. He’d have to keep on his toes if he was going to dodge the grip of her delightful
zeal. He would stay just long enough to make amends with Gabe and a dent in their repairs. Then he’d mosey on down the road.

Gabe. He couldn’t escape it. It was time to see his brother. Now that he had something to occupy his time, he could honestly
say he was just dropping in. No strings, no pressure to stay the night, the weekend, the month, forever. Just a quick, painless
brotherly visit. He’d get it over with, and then maybe God would ease up on the guilt.

“Ready?” Joe asked the sleeping mutt.

Rip moaned in his dreams.

“I know how you feel.” He headed for the shower, dreading the next few hours.

Nearly two miles separated the Garden from the main road. Joe followed the map imprinted on the back of a brochure Gabe had
sent him a few years back when they’d changed the name. When Joe and his ailing mother had first checked out the place, it
had been simply referred to as the Residence. He liked the Garden better, like they were cultivating something special.

Spotting a carved sign, he turned onto an unpaved road and followed the scent of pine through towering blue spruce and birch.
Through a thinning of trees, he sighted a log home, recently built. The pale, skinned logs gleamed with sealant. It looked
rustic, but from the pictures in the brochure, he knew otherwise. Plush and expensive, the institution had a long waiting
list. He’d had to pull a fistful of strings to get Gabe admitted.

They weren’t expecting him, of course. He hadn’t called, had never personally talked with the new director. Just sent the
monthly dues. He slowed, approaching the main lodge. In the circle drive, he stopped next to a long porch. An assembly of
residents, apparently gathered for after-dinner air, fixed their eyes on him.

“Stay,” he commanded Rip, who clambered over him to get to the door. He scowled, spying a fresh paw print on the leg of his
khakis. Quickly, he opened the door, slipped out, whirled, and slammed it in Rip’s face before the dog had a chance to protest.

Joe felt the residents’ eyes on him, but no one spoke, and he heard only the wind whistling through the trees. Fighting the
urge to dive back into the cab, Joe brushed off his pants, straightened his tweed blazer, and pasted on a smile. He skirted
his truck and made for the wide center porch steps. Not a word of greeting came from the dozen or so spectators.

He thudded up the steps and stood on the porch. “I’m looking for Gabriel Michaels.” His voice didn’t sound like his own.

“Gabe’s inside, working on the dishes.” A lean, middle-aged woman with stern eyes stepped from behind a screen door. A man
with thinning gray hair and almond-shaped eyes peered from behind her.

Joe returned her stoic gaze. “I’m his brother.”

Defense dropped from her face, leaving surprise behind. She smiled, and warmth broke through her hazel eyes. “Glad to meet
you, Joe. My name is Ruby Miller. I’m the director.”

He shook her hand, curious that she knew his name.

“We didn’t know you were coming.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, then cupped the back of his neck. “I didn’t either. It just sort of happened.”

She pinched her lips. “In between trips?”

Inquisitive ears edged in on their conversation. He flicked a nervous glance at the closing horde. “Yes and no.”

Her eyebrows flared in surprise, and he wondered how much she knew.

“Where did you go last, Joe?”

Joe turned and found the owner of the voice, a young woman in her mid-thirties. Her brown hair curled gently around full cheeks
and smiling eyes.

“Um, here and there. Saw Mount Hood in Oregon State.”

“I have a poster of that,” another voice said from behind him.

“Gabe reads us all your letters,” announced a plump girl with straight blonde hair.

“And your pictures are all over his room,” added a young man, whiskers sprouting over his face.

Joe felt surrounded. They knew his world, his life. And he knew nothing about them. His mouth seemed filled with cotton.

“Come on, Joe.” Ruby’s voice parted the crowd with the effectiveness of a shepherd’s crook. “I’ll take you to Gabe.”

Joe followed Ruby inside, hearing the group file in behind him. Obviously, they didn’t get many visitors.

They walked through a large family room. Navy and forest green accented the overstuffed sofas, and paneled tabbed curtains
hung from skinned, shellacked tree branches—the latest in woodsy decor. The smell of oiled wood reminded him of Mona and the
table she’d been scrubbing. It tugged at the knot in his chest. Under different circumstances, it felt like a place he could
call home.

He found Gabe in the kitchen, dish towel in hand, wiping a baking pan. His brother chatted with a young redheaded woman who
was elbow deep in sudsy water.

“Gabe?” Ruby tiptoed into the kitchen. “You have a visitor.”

Gabe turned, and Joe went weak with shock. His younger brother had developed into a man, with whiskers, wide shoulders, and
a tan. He appeared grown-up and tailored in a green polo shirt and khakis. Joe squinted at him, the effects of time and distance
hitting him hard.

Gabe, too, stared blankly. Then, like a cloud moving from the sun, joy broke through. “Is that you, Joe?” He formed the words
slowly, enunciating with difficulty, but the expression on his round face and the shine in his almond-shaped eyes shouted
his delight with eloquence.

Joe’s feet told him to run, but he planted them, masked his emotions, and grinned. “Yep. In the flesh.”

In two quick steps Gabe closed in and threw his arms around Joe. He crushed his face into Joe’s chest. Joe felt fear flush
out of him, and he put his arms around his brother. Shame crawled into his bones the longer Gabe held him, and Joe realized
what a fool he’d been to stay away so long. “How are you doing, buddy?” His voice cracked.

Gabe leaned back, happiness making his blue eyes shine like jewels. “Great!”

Ruby patted Gabe on the back. “Why don’t you show him your room, Gabe? Daniel will finish the dishes.”

Gabe handed the towel to the gray-haired observer behind Ruby, then tugged on Joe’s jacket. “C’mon.”

Joe shot a look at Ruby, who smiled broadly. He must have had a help-me expression on his face, for her eyes took on a motherly
texture. “Go on, Joe. It’s okay.”

He raised his brows, then followed Gabe from the room.

Gabe’s large second-story bedroom faced the back of the property. Smooth, white-pine walls were dotted with posters from around
the world, giving his brother’s place a well-traveled aura. He eased into the room behind Gabe, crushing carpet so thick he
could bury himself in it and not be found for a year.

“Did you fix this up yourself?” Joe asked.

Gabe stood in the middle of the bedroom, arms wide. “Yep. I love the color red.”

Joe chuckled, digging a foot into the strawberry-colored carpet. “Well, it’s bold.”

Gabe laughed, the sound of it warm and accepting.

Joe dug his hands into his pockets and surveyed the room. A single bed, with a cherry red Indian blanket thrown over the top,
lined one wall. He recognized the spread. He’d sent it to Gabe during his stint at a dude ranch in Texas. On the other side
of the room a vinyl La-Z-Boy with peeling arms squatted in the corner. Joe felt a twinge. “That was Mom’s.”

Gabe plopped down in it. “She left it to me.”

Joe remembered going through her things and wondering where the chair had gone. She must have brought it up on her last visit.
He was glad she’d given it to Gabe.

Joe stepped toward the desk and the bookshelf next to it. Photographs in a myriad of frames were stacked arm deep. His own
face smiled back in more than half.On the full bookshelf he spied a number of best-sellers, as well as a stack of Superman
comic books. He picked up one. “Still in love with Lois Lane?”

“Superman has to be,” Gabe said and flexed an arm.

Joe laughed. Despite his appearance, Gabe hadn’t changed much. Yet, as Joe surveyed the room again, he realized his error.
This wasn’t the same brother he’d left behind in Eau Claire some fifteen years back or even the one he’d settled in the old
dorm that used to occupy this land four years ago. Then Gabe had cried, their mother had sobbed, and Joe had felt like the
evil doctor institutionalizing his brother. Guilt, which until that time had been a persistent wolf, bit hard when he signed
the commitment papers and tenaciously hung on despite his moves to dodge it.

Joe berated himself for not staying and shouldering his mother’s burden. Yet he knew if he had, he would have shattered. He
had to leave. In the end, his mother seemed to understand. She’d even suggested that her eldest son had done the best thing.
But Gabe was different. Would he ever forgive Joe for not sticking with them through the hard times?

The question would have to wait for another day. He couldn’t tackle it quite yet. One hurdle at a time. He was glad he’d made
it this far and had Mona’s place to hustle back to and regroup. Joe rolled the comic book.“Can I borrow this?”

Gabe smiled, his angled eyes lighting up. “Bring it back with a new one.”

Joe grinned. Nope, different Gabe. More confident.

Full of fun, perhaps even forgiveness. “No problem.”

“Are you in town for a long time?” Gabe’s smile dimmed.

“We’ll see.” He avoided Gabe’s face when he said it.

“Where ya stay in’?”

Joe stared past him, out the window. The last thing he needed was Gabe or Ruby tracking him down and forcing a sticky face-to-face
with his new boss. The less Mona knew about his little brother tucked in the woods, the better for them all. “Is that a strawberry
patch?”

Gabe jumped to his feet. “Yes. That’s our business.

We sell strawberries.”

Joe grinned and shook his head in amazement. Ruby was from the same stock as Mona—ambitious. “Well, maybe I’ll stick around
long enough to taste one,” he said, peeking at Gabe. Gabe lit up like a Christmas tree. Joe couldn’t help but smile in the
face of his brother’s intoxicating enthusiasm.

“Come and meet the others,” Gabe said in a rush.“They know all about you.”

Joe slapped his knee with the comic book. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered as he followed his brother from the room.