A Time for Home: A Snowberry Creek Novel (22 page)

Vince stepped back, leaving Austin to follow in his wake. His father headed for the makeshift kitchen in the corner and poured himself a cup of coffee and added a healthy shot of whiskey from a half-empty bottle. From there, he headed for the old recliner where he spent most of his waking hours. They’d found the chair sitting by the curb at least ten years ago. Over time, it had gradually been reupholstered with duct tape, leaving it a dull gray with only a little of the original dark brown peeking through.

“Well, you came here to talk, so start talking. I don’t have all day to sit around waiting for you to get to the point. I’ve got places to go. Things to do.”

Yeah, right. The farthest Vince ventured from home these days was the closest store that carried his favorite brands of whiskey and cigarettes. God, think what they could have done with even half the money Vince had spent on alcohol and tobacco over the years. There was no use in crying over spilled booze, though.

Unwilling to sit on the filthy sheets that covered the unmade bed, Austin leaned against the wall and stared down at his train wreck of a father. “Gage Logan, the chief of police over in Snowberry Creek, paid me a visit.”

His father had been in the process of leaning back in the chair, but he shot back upright. “What did that bastard want with you, boy?”

“Seems they’ve had a prowler out at Spence’s place, and he figures one of us for it. Said if the problem continued, he’d be looking in our direction first.”

Vince slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. “Damn it, boy, I told you to be careful! I haven’t set foot on the place since we found out about Spence’s will. I’ve been talking to an attorney. He says we’ve got a good case. Since that mongrel Spence was adopted, he has no right to give my family home away like that. I’m going to give the lawyer some money to get started on getting the place back from that woman who stole it from me.”

Austin had to laugh, and not just at the thought of his father spending money on anything but his addictions. Any attorney who would do business with the likes of Vince wouldn’t stand a chance against the law firm that had tied the estate up in a pretty bow and handed it over to Callie Redding. Besides, Vince didn’t have enough money to buy even half an hour of any attorney’s time.

Might as well pour gas on the fire. “Callie has moved a couple of guys into the house now. They’ve changed the locks and started fixing the place up some.”

Vince sputtered and choked on his coffee. Austin pounded on his back until the old man was breathing again. He glared up at Austin with his rheumy eyes. “If anybody should be living there, it should be me. I deserve better than this shithole.”

Then he shot Austin a guilty look. “I mean us. We both should be living there.”

Like Vince would share anything with Austin besides his temper and endless demands for money. He was surprised the subject hadn’t already come up, but then of course it did.

Vince took another long sip of his coffee. “You got my share of the take?”

How predictable. He took all the risks and did all the work, but Vince still wanted his cut. Austin pulled out a small wad of bills. He’d asked for ones at the bank, thinking they added up to a more impressive stack than the ten twenties he planned on giving his father. If Vince was careful, the money would carry him until his next disability check came. Good luck with that happening. The old man snatched the stack of bills out of Austin’s hand and did a quick count.

Austin’s ruse hadn’t worked. “Where’s the rest of it? You better not be holding out on me, boy.”

Austin stared his father straight in the eyes and shrugged. “It’s harder to sneak stuff out of the house with those guys living there.”

Harder, but not impossible. “I’ll have to wait awhile for things to cool down before I try again, especially with the police chief watching me.”

Vince shoved the money in his shirt pocket. “If he comes poking around here, don’t think I won’t set him straight on your trail.”

The attitude shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but his father’s willingness to sacrifice his only son still hurt. “You do that, Dad. Now, I’m out of here.”

His father caught up with him before he made it out the door. The old bastard could still move quickly when it was in his own best interest. He latched onto Austin’s arm and tried to yank him back inside. “Not until you give me the rest of the money you owe me.”

Austin stared down at his father’s knobby hand for a heartbeat before yanking free of his grasp. “I don’t owe you a damn thing, old man.”

Then he walked away, wishing like hell it was for the last time. Unfortunately, his gut told him he’d never be that lucky.

•   •   •

Callie stuffed the estimates into her file folder, intending to head next door to talk to Nick. It was pretty much a done deal that eventually she would fix up the house next door, but there was more she needed to know before deciding when to move forward on the project.

After talking to Nick last night, she’d stayed awake for a long time in the darkness discussing her options with Mooch. The dog kept his opinions to himself, but he’d proven to be a real good listener. Talking it all out had helped crystallize her plans for the future.

At least until she’d checked her e-mail earlier that morning, and everything had blurred out of focus again. She printed the e-mail and added it to the stack of papers she was going to take next door. No matter what, though, she was going to award the contract for the remodeling job. She wanted the house restored to its former glory regardless of where life took her next.

A list maker at heart, she quickly made notes about things she would need to learn about if she was going to start her own business: advertising, food preparation, pricing, laundry service, liability insurance, and so much more. When she talked to Nick, she’d see if he had any other thoughts on the subject.

“Come on, Mooch. Let’s go check on the guys.”

She piled her files on top of the basket that contained the sandwiches and salad she had made for lunch and headed next door. The first thing she noticed was that Nick’s truck was nowhere to be seen. Where had he gone? The front door was open, so Leif must still be at home. She’d drop off their lunch with him and ask if he knew when Nick would be back.

Mooch bypassed the front of the house and ran for the backyard. She caught up with him a few seconds later. To her surprise, Nick was hard at work putting the final touches on the gazebo.

“Did Leif get tired of watching you work and take off?”

Nick set his brush down on the open can of paint and wiped his hands on a rag. “He drove up to the army hospital to pick up a prescription and maybe talk to the docs about further treatment for his leg. He didn’t have an appointment, but he thought going in person might hurry things along.”

She frowned. “Was he okay to drive? I would’ve taken him.”

“He knew that. I offered to ride along, but he insisted he needed to go by himself.”

Nick stood staring toward the mountain peaks in the distance. “If I had to guess, Leif feels as if his life is out of control right now. Everything he has to ask someone else to do for him is one more indication of how much he’s lost. I get that.”

He finally looked directly at her. “Besides, it’s his left leg, so he should be okay to drive.”

Callie hurt not just for Leif, but for Nick as well. They were both struggling to put their lives back together. She wished there was some magic wand she could wave to make it all better for them.

She’d have to settle for what she could do. “I wanted to talk to you about the remodel job. Would you rather I came back later?”

“No, you caught me at a good stopping point. Why don’t we work at the kitchen table? Let me close up the paint, and I’ll be right behind you.”

She nodded and headed inside. Now that the moment was upon her, an entire flock of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. But second-guessing herself wouldn’t accomplish anything. Either Nick would accept her decision or he wouldn’t. She had some tough questions to ask, and she wanted answers before she laid it all out for him.

When Nick came in, he’d pulled on his T-shirt. Too bad, but then this was a business meeting of sorts. He grabbed a beer for himself and a soft drink for her before pulling out a chair. He turned it around to straddle it, resting his arms on the back.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Before we get that far, I want to ask you something, Nick. Please think about your response, because I want the truth, not some pat answer.”

He sat up straighter, looking a bit insulted by her words. “I’ve always been honest with you, Callie.”

She held on to the files, needing something to help ground her as she stepped out onto this emotional ledge. “I didn’t say you weren’t. I’m just asking that you give me the straight scoop, no matter what it is, even if you think I won’t like it. In fact, especially if you think I won’t like it.”

“O-kay.”

He didn’t sound all that convincing, but she’d take him at his word. Trust was a tricky thing. Right now, her gut instinct said she could trust Nick even if he wasn’t sure of that fact himself.

“Your original reason for coming here to Snowberry Creek was to find a home for Mooch. Specifically to see if I’d adopt him.”

Nick nodded, shifting his gaze from the stack of papers to the dog sprawled on the floor next to their feet. “That’s what Spence wanted for the fur ball. He couldn’t stand the thought of abandoning Mooch in Afghanistan when our deployment was up. To be honest, none of us could. Spence was determined to get him shipped stateside before our deployment ended, but then . . . well, you know.”

Yes, she did. She leaned down to pat the dog on the head. “It should be obvious I’ve grown quite attached to Mooch. He has a permanent home with me as long as you’re sure that’s what you want for him.”

Nick’s smile was a little shaky around the edges, but he was already nodding. “That’s good, Callie. Real good. He’ll be happy here.”

Sensing he was the object of their discussion, Mooch clambered to his feet and laid his head on his buddy’s lap. Nick’s big hand stroked the dog’s fur softly, his expression looking a whole lot closer to sad than to satisfied that his mission had been accomplished.

“So that leads me to my next question, Nick. Why are you still here?”

He flinched in response to her question but continued petting Mooch. Even though his attention was focused on the dog, there was a new tension in the set of his jaw. When he didn’t immediately answer, she had to wonder if it was because he was afraid to admit his reasons or because he didn’t know the answer.

When the silence became too much, she tried again. “Don’t get me wrong, Nick. Lord knows you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. I appreciate all the work you’ve done on the yard, and I truly love the gazebo.”

She shoved the file toward him. “But why do you want to stick around long enough to do all this work on the house? Really. I need to know.”

When he looked up, she gasped at the pain etched in his face. She started to take his hand in hers, but he jerked it back out of her reach. The rejection stung, but she was far more worried about him than about any hurt feelings.

“Nick? What’s wrong?”

At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer her at all. He looked around, his dark eyes unfocused, his face stark and scared. Right now she had no doubt Nick was back in Afghanistan. He lurched up off the chair and stalked away to stare out at the backyard. After several seconds, he pounded his fist on the wall before whirling back around to face her. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Here’s the bottom line: I’m here because Spence isn’t and never will be again.”

Did he think she didn’t know that last part? “But, Nick—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Let me finish, Callie. You say you want the whole truth, fine. I’ll give it to you.”

He stood with his hands clenched in fists at his sides, his voice gravel rough and low. “We all knew Spence planned to come back here and build a life with you. Hell, to be honest, I was jealous as hell about that. I suspect Leif was, too, at least a little. Spence was the only one with a real good reason to want to leave the army and settle down.”

What was he talking about? “No, Nick, Spence and I were—”

“Let me finish, Callie!” Nick snapped. “On that last patrol, we got separated from everyone else. It’s easy enough to do when things are all going to hell at once. Spence was our wheelman and doing his best to get back to the others. We’d almost made it, too, when our vehicle hit an IED and the whole fucking world exploded around us.”

He jerked up the sleeve of his shirt to show her the fresh scar on his upper arm. “I ended up with this. The dust was so thick, I could hardly breathe much less see more than a couple of feet in front of my face.”

He pointed toward the floor.

“Spence was facedown in the dirt, not moving.” His next words came on a sob. “I begged God that Wheels wasn’t dead.”

Nick looked around the room, but she couldn’t tell if he even knew where he was. “He was alive. Unconscious but breathing. What a fucking relief that was.”

Then Nick pointed toward the floor about five feet away. “Leif’s poor leg. I bandaged it but had to get him the hell out of there fast.”

He looked around, his desperation and fear palpable in the kitchen. “I knew I couldn’t take them both at the same time and that I’d have to come back for one of them. Leif might have bled out if I didn’t get him to the medics as soon as I did, even though he wanted me to take Spence first.”

It was like watching some macabre play, one she was trapped in, unable to make it stop and afraid of how it would end. She’d never heard how Spence had died, hadn’t wanted to know, but there was no doubt that Nick was about to tell her.

“I dragged Leif about a block before I spotted the rest of our patrol. I yelled for the medic.”

He retreated a couple of steps as if getting out of someone’s way. “He wanted me to stay with Leif because my arm was bleeding, but I had to go back. I’d left Spence behind, and we don’t do that. Not ever. He was my man; my friend; my responsibility.”