Lakeside Reunion (4 page)

“You've done nothing wrong, man. You honored your wife. Cared for her deeply. But she's gone. You need to move on.”

“So easy for others to say.” Stephen rubbed a thumb and forefinger over his eyes, and then realized his mistake. His eyes stung from sawdust. He sighed. “I miss Bethany's friendship. You know? And Ty's laughter. How long before my son learns to love life again? We're taking it one day at a time. The last thing I need is being reminded of my past mistakes. Seeing Lindsey, thinking about her, brings all that back.”

“Stop beating yourself up over it. It's in the past. God forgave you. Why can't you forgive yourself? Are your standards so much higher than His?”

“No lectures, Kendall. Not today. Okay?”

“All right, man. Whatever you say. I gotta head out any
way. I heard a rumor that Lieutenant Delaney requested a transfer, so Chief Laughton needs to fill his spot in the next few weeks.”

Stephen shrugged. “You know I don't go for rumors. I'll wait until I hear something concrete. Or straight from the chief.”

“Delaney told me himself. Figured you'd want to know.”

“Are you applying for it?”

“You kidding, man? I'm nothing but a lowly corporal. Not enough seniority or street time. You're the sergeant. With your Corps experience, you're more than qualified to move up the ladder.”

That stopped Stephen. If this wasn't just a rumor—something with substance—then maybe he had a shot. He'd have to talk to the chief first thing in the morning.

If he were promoted to lieutenant, then he'd be the first in line when Chief Laughton decided to retire in a few years. Becoming chief would show his family that he was an honorable man. Worthy of their trust and respect again.

“Why's Delaney leaving?”

“Not my place to say. That's Delaney's story.”

“Fair enough. So why tell me about him leaving in the first place?”

“He said to let you know. I guess he knew you wanted to work your way to the top.” Kendall fished his keys out of his pocket and twirled them around his finger. “I gotta hit the road, man. Catch you tomorrow.”

Stephen nodded and lifted his hand in a wave as Oliver jogged through the storm to his yellow-and-black '67 Mustang. He guzzled the rest of his soda.

Water ran off the roof and gurgled into the gutters and down the eave spouts. Rain forced the heavy-headed sunflowers alongside the house to bow to its force. Bethany and Tyler planted them last summer before Bethany's cancer
forced her to bed. Death snatched her last breath at the end of October.

Behind him, a singer on the radio crooned about his stains being washed away when grace fell on him like rain.

Unfortunately, some stains were permanent. Forever. No matter how much of a wash they went through.

If he had made better choices while in the Corps, instead of being a cocky jarhead, his life would have turned out differently. One night of drinking had changed his life. A week before his wedding to Lindsey, Bethany had showed with their two-year-old son—the kid he hadn't known existed. He'd been forced to choose between love and honor.

Stephen chose honor.

Losing the one he'd loved, he married the one he dishonored by getting her pregnant. Even though sleeping with Bethany happened years before he and Lindsey had started dating, his choices at that time ended up turning his life upside down.

Lindsey's heart wasn't the only broken one when he ended their engagement. He prayed someday she would understand his choices and forgive him. But judging by the way she reacted to seeing him today, forgiveness was not coming anytime soon.

Her eyes held so much sadness. He was good at fixing things. Broken chairs, old china closets, warped cabinets. But sad eyes? Or broken hearts? Nothing on his workbench could fix those. He had tried before. Not with tools, but with promises. He had failed miserably.

Stephen pushed away from the doorway and pitched the empty bottle into the recycling bin in the corner of the garage.

Headlights flickered through the square panes on the garage doors as someone else pulled in the driveway. A door slammed, followed by another. A moment later, Tyler and Ste
phen's father, Jared, appeared in the doorway. Rain dampened their hair and dotted their shirts.

“Dad! I'm home.” Tyler dropped his Spider-Man backpack near the door and crossed the room to the workbench. He scuffed his shoes through a small pile of sawdust. “Can we take flowers to Mommy today?”

Stephen gave Tyler a one-armed hug. “Not tonight. It's raining and it'll be dark soon.”

“But you promised.” Ty yanked on Stephen's arm.

Stephen pried his arm out of his son's constrictor hold and picked up Tyler. He set him on the workbench. “I didn't promise. I said maybe. Let's check the weather tomorrow, okay?”

“I guess.” The boy's shoulders slumped.

Stephen trailed a finger along a dark brown stain on the front of Ty's red T-shirt. “Let me guess—chocolate ice-cream cone?”

Ty nodded. “Papa said I could have anything I wanted. I had one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of bubble gum. Hey, did you know bubble gum was invented in 1928? It was called Dubble Bubble. There was a sign at the ice-cream shop.” Ty turned to his grandfather. “Papa, were you alive back then?”

Dad laughed and ruffled Ty's hair. “Just how old do you think I am?”

Ty cocked his head and stared at Dad, lips twitching. “At least a hundred.” He giggled.

“If I was a hundred, could I do this?” Dad scooped up Ty and tickled his ribs.

Ty's laughter seeped through Stephen like shellac over wood, filling in every gouge and crevice of his heart.

Dad set Tyler on his feet and playfully twisted one of his ears. Tyler leaned against him.

Stephen crouched in front of Ty. “Why don't you take your
backpack into the house and get started on your homework? I'll be in shortly. I need to talk to Papa about something.”

“Okay. Thanks for the ice cream, Papa.”

Dad leaned over and wrapped his arms around the boy, hugging and lifting him at the same time. “You're welcome, Ty.”

Ty grabbed his backpack and shot through the open doorway, dodging puddles as he ran for the house. As soon as he heard the back door slam, Stephen crossed the garage to the old-fashioned refrigerator with pull-down handle, opened it and grabbed a bottle of iced green tea and another Mountain Dew. He handed the tea to Dad, and then wiped his damp hand on his dusty jeans.

“Thanks for bringing him home, Dad.”

“No problem. Cradle looks great.” Dad nodded toward the workbench.

Stephen glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks. Any word on Grace?”

“Your ma called Grace's folks, but there was no answer. Heard you had a run-in with Lindsey.”

Which time?”

“There was more than one?”

Stephen drained a third of the soda bottle, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He gave Dad a quick rundown of both events. “I didn't expect her to freak out when I touched her arm.”

“Maybe she misread your intentions.”

“Seriously, Dad? I have a son who cries nightly for his mom. If it weren't for Ma's cooking, we'd probably starve. Between Ty, work and stuff around here or Ty's school, when do I have time for romance? Bethany hasn't been gone a year.”

Dad held up his hands in surrender. “No need to get all defensive on me.”

Stephen rubbed the back of his neck. “She just—I don't know—looked lost. I thought she could use a friend.”

“Your heart was in the right place, son, but you two didn't exactly part as friends.”

Stephen grabbed the push broom and swept the sawdust Ty had scattered into the corner by the stack of two-by-fours. “I had to do what was right.”

“And broke a sweet girl's heart in the process.”

“You think I don't know that?” He leaned the broom against the wall. Dropping into a frayed lawn chair, he kicked the metal frame of another, signaling Dad to sit. “What if she leaves before I can talk to her, make her understand why I did what I did?”

“It's tough, son, I'm sure, but you need to understand seeing you was as much of a shock to her as it was for you. That gal will be around for a while. She won't up and leave her ma in a lurch.”

Stephen frowned. “I doubt she'll be friending me on Facebook anytime soon.”

“If you were given a second chance, and Bethany hadn't been dying, would you do things differently?”

“Would I still marry Lindsey, knowing Beth and I had a son together?”

Dad nodded and sipped his tea.

Stephen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared out into the yard. The rain had finally stopped. Slowly, he shook his head. “I doubt it. As much as I love…loved Lindsey, my son needed a father. I made my share of mistakes, but this was one I could fix.”

Dad stood, placing a hand on Stephen's shoulder. “You're a good man. And I'm proud of you.”

Stephen's throat thickened. He didn't deserve Dad's affirmation. Maybe Dad thought he had come a long way, but Stephen still had far to go. And so much to make up for.

W
as she out of her mind?

What possessed Lindsey to make an illegal U-turn in the middle of Center Street—good thing Stephen wasn't around—and head up Cemetery Hill, instead of going to her mother's house?

After Aunt Claire spilled about Max, Mom's surgeon came in with an update about her surgery. Once they moved Mom out of recovery and into her room, Lindsey sat with her for a while. She watched Mom sleep and replayed the conversation with Aunt Claire in her head.

Granddad forced Lindsey to leave the hospital to get some rest. She argued she'd sleep in Mom's room, but when they reminded her Mom needed her rest, too, Lindsey relented. And now here she was.

Taking a deep breath, Lindsey cut the engine and climbed out from behind the wheel. She closed the door quietly behind her and walked across wet grass to a corner lot beneath a shedding oak tree, her footsteps silent as the tombs.

Granite markers formed symmetrical rows like soldiers in formation. Fiery reds, golden yellows and brilliant oranges splashed against the melancholy sky like colors splattered from an artist's palette. A gust of wind blew the leaves from
their knobby limbs. They whirled, twirled and landed in a kaleidoscopic pattern on the ground.

Kneeling on the wet grass in front of Dad's headstone, Lindsey brushed away soggy leaves. The damp earth seeped through her skin. She reached out and traced the letters engraved in the cold marble.

May ninth. The day her life changed. Forever.

While at college, she had missed sharing breakfast with Dad. That was their special time. She had decided to surprise her parents by coming home a day earlier than expected. She'd fix breakfast and attend church with them. Bacon fried and draining, she scrambled eggs, expecting Dad to walk through the door at any minute.

As the minutes ticked by, her anxiety had grown as cold as the eggs. Something was wrong. Dad always called if he was running late, especially on a Sunday morning. Always. A promise he made with Mom upon graduating from the academy. To keep her from worrying.

When Stephen knocked on the door, Lindsey knew she'd never see her father again. Tears glistening in his eyes, he asked Lindsey to wake her mother. After hearing the news that Dad had been shot during a routine traffic stop, Lindsey scraped their breakfast into the trash and hadn't eaten the meal since.

“I miss you, Dad.” If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could dredge up the sound of his barrel-chested laughter from one of the locked corners of her memory. Or the way his arms felt around her. But she didn't allow herself to indulge in that decadent pool of memories. For a while, after
his death, she wanted to float around inside those memories and never resurface to reality.

The words on the headstone blurred. Lindsey thumbed away a stray tear and wiped it on the hem of her skirt. Crying wasn't going to bring him back. She stood and brushed wet leaves from her clothes.

The wind picked up and she shivered. She rubbed her arms to generate some heat as she trudged to the edge of the cemetery, which overlooked Shelby Lake.

The bluish-green water of Shelby Lake bordered the horizon. On a cloudless summer day, the lake blended with the sky.

A splinter of sunlight fractured the cloud cover and reflected off the jeweled stained-glass windows of the Shelby Lake Community Church where Mom and Dad had been married. Dad's funeral was the last day she visited the church.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing through the valley. Dark, threatening clouds lumbered across the sky, bullying the scant rays. Raindrops splattered as Lindsey dashed to her car. She slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine. She flicked the heat to high, hoping it warmed her frozen toes quickly.

Peering over her shoulder, Lindsey backed down the drive. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and stepped on the brakes.

A quick scan showed a child kneeling in front of a headstone. She shifted the car into Park, left the engine idling and hurried across the grass. A boy about six or seven years old pushed dark curls off his face, smearing dirt across his forehead. He picked up a bouquet of raggedy-stemmed wild-flowers, shoved them into a dirty quart jar and placed the flowers at the base of the headstone.

What kind of parent left a child unattended in the cemetery? And in the rain?

Seriously?

Raindrops stung Lindsey's cheeks. The sky blackened. Someone needed to get this kid home. She called out to him, “Hey, it's beginning to rain.”

The boy started. He jumped to his feet and brushed off his jeans. Pushing hair away from his face again, he turned as if to bolt faster than a baby jackrabbit.

“Do you need a ride home?”

He shook his head, mumbling a response.

“I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.”

“No, thank you. I rode my bike.” He pointed to the edge of the grass where a mud-spattered bike lay on its side. No helmet. Even better.

“You'll get your sling wet if you ride your bike home in the rain. I can throw it in the trunk of my car and give you a lift to your house, if you want.”

How did he manage to ride the bike one-handed in the first place?

He shook his head, covered his left arm with his right hand and looked down at his shoes. He kicked at the grass with the toe of his muddy sneaker. “My dad says I'm not allowed to talk to strangers or take anything from them.”

“You're smart to listen to your dad. You can use my cell phone to call him.”

The child thrust out his chin as he eyed Lindsey suspiciously. “My dad is a cop. And he said strangers will do anything to get kids to go with them.”

He said it with the same edge as if he was on the playground playing a round of “my dad can beat up your dad.”

Lindsey understood his hesitation, but the longer they stood in the rain, trying to keep him dry wouldn't be an option. She pointed to the sky. “I didn't make it rain so I could give you a ride home. If you'd rather ride your bike,
that's fine.” Lindsey shrugged and turned to head back to the car.

“Wait. What about my bike?”

Lindsey stopped. “I'll put it in my trunk, but we'll have to hurry.”

Thunder cracked like a gunshot. Lightning flashed, fingering the ground with charged tentacles. The boy trembled, his eyes as large as the bicycle tires. He darted across the lawn and retrieved his bike. He tried to wheel it to her car while keeping his left arm pressed against his stomach, but the bike wobbled and kept veering off course.

Lindsey kicked off her heels, tossed them on the floor of the front seat and ran over to help him. She lifted the bike and shoved it into the trunk. She wiped her muddy hands in the grass and dried them on her already-filthy skirt. They rushed into the car and slammed the door as the sky deluged the cemetery.

“Phew, that was close.” Lindsey laughed as she ran fingers through her soaked hair. Water dripped down her back. The heater blasted her face with hot air, warming her nose and cheeks.

The little boy snapped his seat belt into place and stared out the window. “So much for my flowers.”

“Flowers don't mind the rain.” She longed to push the damp curls back from his face and give him a hug. He looked so sad and lost.

“What's your name?”

“Tyler.”

“Do you have a last name?”

The boy hedged, then nodded.

“Will you tell me?”

He shook his head and rubbed dirt from his fingers.

Lindsey pulled her cell phone out of her purse. She turned it on and groaned. Dead battery. And she didn't have the char
ger. “Listen, Tyler, my phone died. Do you still want me to give you a ride home? It's getting dark. I'm sure your parents must be worried.”

Tyler stared out the window and shrugged his small shoulders. “If you were going to kidnap me, you wouldn't ask, would you?”

Lindsey's heart melted. “Nah, I'm not a kidnapper. In fact, I grew up here. I came home to visit my mom. My dad used to be a police officer in town.”

Tyler perked up. “He was? What's his name? Maybe my dad knows him.”

She pictured her dad dressed in his neatly pressed dark blue uniform. Her heart squeezed with pain. “He died five years ago.”

“Do you miss him?”

“More than anything. What's your address? Will someone be home? I don't want to take you to an empty house.”

His expression was a mixture of sadness and wistfulness as he gave Lindsey directions to his house.

Following Tyler's directions, Lindsey pulled into a private drive down the road from the cemetery. She braked in front of a spacious log home nestled in a grove of pine trees. The front porch spanned the length of the house and wrapped around the side. Small evergreen shrubs grew on either side of the wide steps. Hanging baskets of red and white geraniums swayed in the wind. Colorful maple and oak leaves littered the front yard like confetti after a party. A tire swing hung from a sturdy maple branch and spun in the wind, begging someone to come and play.

“I'll set your bike by the garage. Let your parents know you're home.” She still couldn't believe his parents allowed him to wander the cemetery by himself. Shelby Lake used to be a safe community where people left their doors unlocked. Things changed after Dad's death.

Tyler raced across the yard, managing to splash through most of the puddles. Lindsey gazed after him, biting back the sigh that almost slipped through her lips.

She opened the trunk and wrestled the bike from its awkward position. It was easier to put in than to take out. Rain soaked her back and plastered her sweater to her body.

“Here, let me get that.” A pair of masculine hands grabbed hold of the bike frame and lifted it easily from the trunk.

Lindsey jerked at the sound of the familiar voice and smacked the back of her head on the edge of the trunk. Tears stung her eyes. She stood and rubbed the rapidly forming bump.

Stephen stepped back and set the bike in the grass. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

Lindsey tucked her wet hair behind her ear and nodded.

Even with his hair slicked to his head and his shirt clinging to him like a second skin, his presence took her breath away. “Hello, Stephen.”

“What are you doing with my kid?” Stephen leaned against the car, and folded his arms across this chest. The rain didn't seem to bother him. A passerby would have thought he was chatting casually, but his clenched jaw, narrowed gaze and flared nostrils revealed the truth.

“Tyler is
your
son?”

Stephen nodded, but remained silent. He watched her with eyes as hard as gemstones.

She stared at the door where the child disappeared. The small boy who tugged on her heartstrings a few minutes ago was the same child she'd resented for so long. An innocent child who was not responsible for the consequences of his parents. Still, if he hadn't been born, she may have been married to Stephen by now and had her own family.

A tremble started in her ice-cold toes and shimmied its way up the rest of her body. She needed to get out of here.
Away from Stephen. Away from his adorable son. Away from Shelby Lake.

“I have to go.” Lindsey swept past him to open the driver's side door.

Stephen grabbed her elbow before she could open the door. “You haven't told me why you had my son. Running, Lindsey? You're good at that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You took the easy road. You're the one who hightailed it out of town. And left me cleaning up the mess. And now, you breeze into town after five years and end up at
my
house with
my
kid.”

“Easy road? Are you kidding me? You're the reason I left, you jerk.” Lindsey pulled her arm free from his grasp and poked him in the chest. “I had no choice. Not if I wanted to have any kind of life. You deserved to clean up the mess, considering you're the one who created it in the first place.”

Her voice rose with each syllable. Her chest heaved as adrenaline pulsed through her limbs. She saved his kid from potential danger. He should be thanking her, instead of treating her like some kind of villain. “But this has nothing to do with me. He was wandering the cemetery by himself. Anyone could have snatched him. What kind of parent doesn't know where his own kid is?”

“The kind that's been freaking out for the past hour.” Stephen rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. The creases around his eyes deepened. His shoulders sagged as he shoved his hands in his front pockets. He looked as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Maybe he did.

“Tyler left without my permission. I was talking to Dad and Ty was supposed to be doing his homework. When I came into the house, he was gone. I searched the woods for him. I was about to get in my SUV when you pulled in. Why am I even explaining this to you?”

She lowered her voice. “What was he doing at the cemetery?”

“Visiting his mom. He's been asking to put flowers on her grave for days, but with the constant rain, we couldn't. He must have gotten tired of me saying no and slipped out when my back was turned.”

Flowers. For his mom.

Losing someone she loved was one of the worst feelings in the world. But she was an adult. But a kid…and his own mother…how did he cope with that kind of loss? The fight drained out of Lindsey. Fatigue burrowed deep into her bones. She dragged her fingers through her hair. “I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

Stephen spanned a hand over his eyes, swallowed hard and exhaled. “No need for apologies. I couldn't handle losing Ty, too. I owe you my gratitude.”

The raw emotion on his face coupled with his ragged voice pierced her heart. She blinked back tears. “You don't owe me anything.” And she meant it. She didn't want anything from Stephen. Except for him to leave her alone, for her own self-preservation.