A Change of Plans (28 page)

“Yep.”

Scanning the room, I asked, “Why did you never get rid of them?”

Jack shook his head, his throat working in a way I knew all too well.

I went over and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. Stupid question.”

He coughed and cleared his throat. It amazed me that he could keep the tears back with the intensity of emotion I felt coming from him. He reached behind him and handed me my cocoa. The abandoned slippers rested on the floor by the dresser.

“How about you try sipping this and come downstairs when the meat smell’s cleared out in a bit?” He gave me a stern look. “You aren’t one of those vegetarians or vegans are you?”

In response, I reached down, lifted the leg of my pajama pants, and showed him my six-inch scar. “I got it when Braedon and I went boar hunting. We needed the skins because our clothes were falling apart ... and I wanted soap.”

Jack considered me for a moment, as though the last bit of his preconceived ideas about me didn’t fit anymore. “How’d you get the cut?”

“I didn’t run fast enough. I was supposed to be directing the herd to Braedon’s snares, but a big old boar decided he didn’t want to be herded. I threw my spear at him but it glanced off— and don’t you even be thinking it was just because I’m a girl!” I glared at him, and he chuckled. He sounded like Braedon, and my heart twisted.

I rubbed the clean, straight scar. “Braedon took that beast down with two arrows. He was so fast.”

“Yeah, he loved hunting with a bow. He didn’t need to kill like some people do. What he loved was the hunt, pitting
himself against nature.
Knowing
he could take an animal down with his brains and skill was enough for him.”

We stood in silence for a moment. “Is there any chance someone could get my clothes from the car?”

Jack nodded and strode from the room. I sat on the bed with my lukewarm chocolate and stroked the bedspread. Braedon had slept in this bed. I sniffed the cocoa. When my stomach didn’t seem to mind, I took a sip.

After a few minutes, one of the young men from last night tapped on the door and slid my suitcase in. His close-cut, sandy-colored hair was covered with melting snow.

“Is it still snowing?” I went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. Against the reflected light of the window, larges flakes fell.

“Yes, ma’am. The forecast is calling for snow all day,” he replied, still holding the doorknob in his hand.

“I’m sorry I made you go out.” When he began to shut the door, I asked, “What’s your name?”

He dipped his head and touched a knuckle to his forehead. “Ethan, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Ethan.”

He paused. “Uh, ma’am ...?”

“Yes?”

“Is there any chance you could show me ... us, I mean, what you did to Mr. Randolph? That was wicked!”

I laughed. “If there’s time. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

Nodding, he closed the door.

I locked the door, got dressed, and headed back downstairs. The faint scent of bacon coming from the kitchen sent my
stomach roiling, so I followed the sound of voices coming from another direction.

Mrs. Walters sat at a desk doing paperwork, Jack cleaned a rifle, and Ethan worked on something made of leather in a large room that seemed to serve as both a living and a dining room. Classical music played in the background.

A set of huge windows, the centerpiece of the room, highlighted the blowing snow. The house seemed more modern than I had expected. The living room combined logs and stone with rustic decorations and a large fireplace. I was struck by the sense of
home
the scene gave me.

Everyone looked up when I entered, and I held up my empty cup. “I didn’t dare put it in the kitchen. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

Mrs. Walters came and took the cup from me. “Don’t you worry about it. Can I get you some toast?”

My stomach rumbled. “I’d like to give some a try.” She nodded and left for the kitchen.

I went over to where Jack and Ethan worked. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Sure.” Jack plunged the rod back and forth in the barrel. “Tell me about those pirates and that island.”

I spent the morning curled up in a chair by the fire, covered with a quilt, answering their questions. Surprisingly, I found it easy to talk about Braedon around them.

A little while into my story, the other young man, introduced as Owen, came in. He looked like a younger version of Ethan but with longer, darker hair. Owen came over and warmed his hands by the fire, listening to me with rapt attention.

When Mrs. Walters rose from the desk to fix lunch, I got up to help, but she insisted I rest. We had a hearty soup and
homemade bread at a dining table at the end of the large room. I managed to keep down some food and felt much better.

After lunch, Jack and the boys had work to do out in the barn. I overheard them say something as they left about how bad the storm was. They worried about not being able to get out to feed the herd. Some of the horses and cattle could die.

Mrs. Walters said she had things to do upstairs, and I found myself alone. A baby grand piano sat in a corner, and I went over to examine it. It was in tune, and I sat down and began to play. The piano was a beautiful instrument with magnificent sound. It had to have been Braedon’s.

When I finished playing the songs I knew by heart, I searched for some music. A bookcase full of sheet music and music books stood behind the piano. I flipped through them until I found one of the pieces I had heard Braedon play on the ship. As I held the music, I imagined him with that very paper in his hands. I brushed it against my cheek, musing about the injustice that these sheets were here when he was not.

I worked my way through the number, repeating difficult passages until I was comfortable with them.

From behind me, Ethan said. “That was one of Braedon’s favorite songs.”

Spinning, I saw the others had returned and had been listening. My face warmed. “I know. He used to play it for me on the ship.” Self-conscious, I stood and moved to close the fallboard.

“Don’t stop playing just because of us.” Jack sat in a recliner and opened a newspaper.

Mrs. Walters had already taken her seat at the desk and began shuffling through her papers. “No one’s played the piano in a long time. I’d like to hear some more.”

Ethan and Owen nodded in agreement and took out their leather projects.

Braedon was a talented pianist, and I worried I would disappoint them. “I can’t play like Braedon.”

Jack snorted. “None of us can play at all. Go ahead. I’ve been having that thing tuned every six months. It’ll be nice to get something out of the investment.”

I hesitated but sat on the bench, opening the fallboard again. I pulled out a New Age piece from Braedon’s collection. As I lost myself in the music, I was able to ignore the others. Because they didn’t say anything when I finished the song, I picked out another, continuing until my back started to ache.

I closed the fallboard and returned the music to the bookshelf. I wasn’t sure what to do next.

Emily and the boys had drifted off, but Jack sat watching me. “Do you play chess?”

“I know how to play, but I’m not very good.”

He gave me a dubious look. “Like you can’t play the piano?”

I tilted my head. “I never said I couldn’t play. I said I couldn’t play like Braedon.”

“All right. All right.” From behind his chair, Jack pulled out a small table with a beautiful carved chess set. “Bring a chair over,” he commanded, using a tone that echoed faintly of the one Braedon had used sometimes when we argued.

This time, I did as told and put my seat across from him. While I didn’t play very often, I could usually give even good players a run for their money.

“Tell me about Braedon as a boy,” I said a few minutes into our first game.

Jack considered the board. “Well, he was a clever little kid,
always keeping himself entertained. Pretty quiet but determined not to let anything keep him down. The only one who could bully him was Aislinn, and she played on his feelings. He put up a tough exterior to hide a soft heart.”

I grinned. “I wonder where he got that from.” Jack scowled, so I said softly, “Braedon didn’t want to appear weak.”

“No.” He stretched out the word. “He didn’t. I’m not sure if it was his mother’s fault or mine. He’d study things out, decide what he wanted, and then you better get out of his way. If he wanted it, he’d get it.”

I remembered the plan to win me over that Braedon had told me about, starting with the music he had written and his nearby but unintimidating presence during the fun part of the snorkeling trip. That made me smile.

Noticing my expression, Jack asked, “What are you thinking?”

I told him.

Jack moved his knight. “That sounds like him. Did he tell you he was married once?”

I shifted my bishop. “Yes.”

“Fool kids.” Jack curled his lip. “It must have been the only thing he did without thinking it to death first.”

An image of Braedon’s face as he made his vow to me brought a lump to my throat. How different things might have been if my trip had gone according to plan.

I whispered, “You know what’s the hardest thing for me? I have
nothing
of his—not even the right to his name.” I jumped up.

Like his son, Jack was faster. He pushed the little chess table over as he pulled me into his arms and held me while I wept. He cried a little too. We broke apart when we heard
Mrs. Walters enter. Jack handed me a clean handkerchief and, coughing, left the room.

She watched him go before looking at me. “I’m glad to see that. He’s been grieving alone too long. He can be a cross old coot on the best of days, but he’s been unbearable since he heard the news.”

“He’s lucky to have you here,” I said after blowing my nose. “Where’s Mr. Walters?”

“Died fifteen years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, pulling out some dishes from the hutch. “I’m used to it now.”

I joined her. “Did you have any children?”

With a big grin, she said, “Ethan and Owen are mine.”

“They’re nice boys.”

“Well, I like them.” She passed me some dishes. “How about you help me set the table?”

I took them and went to work.

A
FTER DINNER,
Ethan asked, “Do you think you could show us what you did to Mr. Randolph?”

Jack glowered at the reference and continued marking a crossword puzzle.

“Okay. You two come stand by me, facing each other. I’ll show you how joint locks work.” I sneakily watched Jack as I went through the demonstration. He feigned a lack of interest, but I could tell he took in everything I said to the boys.

“How do you know this stuff?” Owen asked after he tapped out for the third time.

I shifted his fingers in the hold he was attempting on Ethan. “I have a black belt in karate.”

Jack leapt from his chair. “Well, that explains it, then!”

We stared at him.

“There’s no shame in being taken down by a black belt.” Jack marched over to where the boys and I stood. He held his hand out to me. “Here. Show me what you’re teaching them. I won’t have them thinking they can pull any of this on me.”

The boys kept silent but smirked when Jack wasn’t looking.

E
VERYONE PREPARED
to go to bed early. The forecast called for the storm to stop in the middle of the night, and the guys wanted to be out first thing in the morning to check on the animals. As I folded up the blanket I had used, Jack hung back, waiting for the others to leave us.

Once we were alone, he said, “The roads should be cleared later tomorrow.”

I nodded and put the blanket on the end of the sofa. “Thank you for today. I’m glad I got to see this place and meet you all. Braedon talked so much about it.” I hesitated. “I think I needed something to help me say ... goodbye.” I sniffed.

Jack clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, seeming to struggle with something. “I know I sort of apologized—in general. But ... I’m sorry about what I called you.”

I touched his arm. “It’s all good. You—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking off my hand. “It’s not all good. I guess I ....”