Lakeside Reunion (8 page)

“Peretti. My parents emigrated from Italy to the U.S. before I was born. I'm fifty-five years old, been divorced for twenty-five years when my wife decided marriage and a child weren't her cup of tea. My family moved to Shelby Lake a few years ago. I've raised my daughter on my own, so I completely understand your protective streak toward your mother.”

“It shows, huh?”

“As bright as a lighthouse beacon. And I admire you for it. Your mom is a special lady.”

“Yes, she is. Tell me about your family.”

“My father lives with us. My daughter, Josephina—Josie to her friends—is about your age. She has a daughter named
Hannah who is very special and finds joy in the little things in life. Josie owns Cuppa Josie's in town. I'd like you to meet her. I think the two of you will have much in common.”

“How does she feel about my mom? Your relationship with my mom?”

“They get along well, but Josie isn't trying to take your place with your mother. I don't think that's even possible. You are the light of your mother's life. Josie hasn't had much of a woman's touch since her mom left. My
mamma
helped care for Josie, but she passed away when Josie was a teenager. It was hard on her, on both of us. So, I understand the pain of losing a parent. Doesn't get easier as you get older, either.” Max reached over and patted Lindsey's knee. “I'm not trying to take your dad's place, Lindsey. I understand your mother comes with a history. We all do. If you let me, I'd like to be your friend.”

A lump formed in her throat. From the time she heard about her mother and Max, she wanted to hate him, resent him for trying to step into her dad's size-twelve shoes. But now she could see why her mom fell for this guy. Beneath the silver hair, warm eyes and confidence, he seemed as caring and compassionate about family as her mother. They had a lot in common. Maybe he
could
make her mom happy.

 

Sweat stung Stephen's eyes. He shut off the edge trimmer and pulled off his sunglasses. He dragged the back of his gloved hand across his forehead. The day had turned out to be warmer than he expected. His flannel shirt lay in a discarded plaid heap on the freshly mowed grass. His T-shirt was pasted to his skin.

Good thing he ran into Graham Matthews at the hardware store. Lindsey's granddad mentioned the roof damage on Grace's house. Stephen made a couple of calls and managed to round up a few of the off-duty guys from the depart
ment to lend a hand with the roof. Once they patched the roof, they mowed the yard and pruned the shrubs. They took care of their own.

Especially now that they had found Earle.

When Ramirez's cousin showed that picture and Stephen realized he was looking at his friend's killer, he wanted to hunt the murderer down and rip him apart with his bare hands, slowly and painfully. As a sworn police officer, he had to follow the same laws as everyone else. Not to mention department procedures and respect other jurisdictions, no matter how much it killed him. Set the example. Uphold the honor he strived to maintain.

But if he did find Earle, helped bring him in, maybe, just maybe that would help bridge the gap between him and Lindsey. Redeem himself in her eyes. His promises would mean something again. He wanted to tell her about the lead, give her something to cling to, but he couldn't give her false hope. He'd wait until the time was right. When his promise to catch her father's killer rang true.

He hadn't seen Lindsey since they arrived about two hours ago. Did she even know they were there? Would she think he was overstepping his bounds?

As if she could read his thoughts, the patio door slid open. Lindsey stepped barefoot onto the cement carrying a tray with a pitcher and glasses. She tried to balance the tray to close the door. Was she crazy? She shouldn't be walking around without shoes.

He dropped the trimmer onto the shrubs he had been pruning and jogged over to her. He took the tray from her and set it on the wrought iron table. Grabbing one of the matching chairs, he motioned for her to sit. “You shouldn't be walking on that cut foot. At least put on some shoes or something so it doesn't get infected.”

“Thanks for your concern, but I'll be fine. I figured you
guys might be thirsty, so I made a pitcher of raspberry iced tea.” She grabbed one of the glasses, filled it with tea and then handed it to him. “How's it going?”

That was a loaded question. If he told her the truth, she'd run back inside and lock the door before he could finish his sentence. He drained half the glass in one long swallow and then rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “Same as always.”

He was in tenth grade all over again and trying to work up the courage to ask the pretty girl to dance. Only reality was nothing like high school. “Thanks for the tea. The guys will appreciate it.”

“It's only instant. Add water and stir. No big deal.”

“They drink the swill at the station that Reba tries to pawn off as coffee. They won't mind this one bit.”

“How's Reba?” Lindsey gripped the back of the chair, keeping distance between the two of them.

“Still working dispatch and as feisty as ever. You should drop in and say hi. She's been asking about your mom.” Stephen wanted to say more, tell her about Hank Earle—he debated it for half a second—but kept his mouth shut. No sense in giving her false hope.

Lindsey shook her head. “I don't think so. Tell her I said hi, if you think of it.” Ice snapped and crackled as Lindsey poured tea into the rest of the glasses. “After all that rain, I'm surprised it's so warm today. Mom had cookies in the freezer. I warmed them in the oven.”

“Thanks, Linds. That's sweet.”

“It's the least I can do after the way everyone looks after Mom.” Lindsey waved a hand over the group of men raking leaves, trimming branches and weeding around the flower-beds in the backyard.

“We're taught to care for widows and orphans. Your family
is part of our family.” Stephen nodded toward his fellow officers. “Is our being here a problem?”

“Not at all. I'm sure Mom appreciates the help. I'm just surprised, that's all.”

“Your dad would have done the same for any of our families, so giving your mom a hand with the yard or minor repairs is the least we can do. Your granddad came by. We removed the tree limb and covered the damage.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I'll call Mom's insurance company on Monday.”

Stephen drained the rest of his tea and pulled his gloves back on. “Did you visit her yet?”

“I went this morning after you left. If I stayed longer, she would have felt she had to entertain me and wouldn't have gotten any rest. Besides, Max showed up. They needed their privacy. I'll drop by this evening to check on her.”

“So you met Max. How'd that go?”

“He seems like a nice guy.” Lindsey rearranged the chocolate-chip cookies on the plate.

“He is, Linds.”

She shielded her eyes and stared at something over Stephen's shoulder. “So were they open with their relationship with everyone but me?”

Even though she tried to hide it, Stephen could see the sadness in her eyes, in the slump of her shoulders. “Well, they sit together in church and are seen around town a lot.”

“She loves him. He loves her.”

“I gathered as much.”

“Change is hard.”

“Change happens. Embrace it.”

Lindsey gave him a ghost of a smile that shot a spear through his heart. “That sounds like something from a fortune cookie.”

“More like life experience.” Stephen slid his sunglasses in
place and grabbed the edge trimmer. “We'll stay out of your way. Yell if you need anything.”

He trimmed the hedges alongside the house, trying to concentrate on smoothing out the evergreens instead of thinking about the way Lindsey's pink-and-white-striped button-down shirt tapered at the waist. He bet he could span her waist with his bare hands. He clenched his jaw and revved the engine on the trimmer. He lopped too much of the end of the shrub. Instead of trying to fix it, he shut off the trimmer so he didn't end up mutilating the rest.

Laughter reached his ears. Lindsey stood next to a pile of leaves, talking to Oliver Kendall, who leaned on a rake. A spike of jealousy jabbed him in the gut as she laughed at something Kendall said. Lindsey didn't laugh like that with him.

Stephen wandered across the grass to them. “Kendall, the rake works better if you use it.”

Kendall grinned and gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

“Don't call me sir. I didn't realize you two knew each other. You never mentioned it.” Stephen leveled Kendall with a glare.

“Oh, sure. Shelby Lake's not that big. Lindsey and I go way back. Marching band. Senior class trip. Graduation. I was just telling her about the upcoming police officer's gala.” Oliver volleyed a look back to Stephen that said “There, take that.”

Did Kendall seriously think Lindsey would go to the gala with Stephen? After the way he hurt her? Come on, get real.

L
indsey listened to laughter coming from the living room as she searched the kitchen counter jam-packed with casserole dishes and Tupperware containers for an empty spot to place the Jell-O mold.

The Tea Grannies—a small group of widows, except for her own grandmother, at Mom's church who felt it was their God-given gift to match the singles in the church, whether or not they wanted to be—had arrived a few minutes earlier. Since Mom's discharge three days ago, a steady stream of visitors dropped off flowers, plants and food, along with promises to keep Lindsey's mother in their prayers.

Lindsey appreciated their thoughtfulness, but didn't Mom's church realize she was only one person? How in the world did they expect her to eat all of this food?

The doorbell rang for what seemed to be the hundredth time. She set the Jell-O on the stove and hurried to answer the door.

Please, no more food.

Maybe she could contact the local soup kitchen to see if they could use some of it.

Lindsey opened the front door. An older woman who looked vaguely familiar held a disposable pie pan wrapped
in aluminum foil. A little girl wrapped one hand around the older woman's leg and clutched a bunch of colorful daisies wrapped in cellophane—the kind purchased in a grocery store.

“Hello, may I help you?”

“Hey, you're the lady from the hospital.” The little girl spoke up behind her wall of flowers. Hospital?

Lindsey's gaze flitted from the child to the older woman. She noticed the woman's pink-and-white crocheted hat. Then the lightbulb came on. Molly and Nana from the Shelby Lake emergency-department waiting room. How could she have forgotten that hat?

“Oh, that's right. You're Molly, aren't you?”

Molly bobbed her head. “You 'membered my name.”

“It's such a pretty name. Very hard to forget. How can I help you, Miss Molly?” Lindsey stooped to Molly's level.

Molly thrust the bouquet at Lindsey. “These are for Ms. Porter. She's my teacher. The new teacher said she broked her leg.”

Lindsey smelled the flowers and fingered one of the satiny petals. “That is so sweet of you, Molly. I'm sure she will love them. Would you like to come in and give them to her yourself?”

Molly nodded, giving Lindsey a heartwarming toothy grin. Nana put a hand on her shoulder and held her back. “Thank you kindly, but we can't stay. My son—” she nodded toward a rusted orange pickup idling next to the curb “—he's a bit impatient. I baked this here apple pie. It's not as plump as I woulda liked, but I ran outta apples. My check don't come until the end of the month. But your mama's been so good to Molly, to all of us. Just a little something to let her know we appreciate her and hope she's better soon.”

The bottom of the pan warmed her hand as Lindsey took
it from Nana. The scent of cinnamon tickled her nose. “She will love it, Mrs…. I'm sorry, but I don't know your name.”

“Hildie Green. I'm widowed.”

A horn tooted.

Mrs. Green turned around and waved at him. “Oh, that boy of mine is so impatient. Molly, we best get back to the truck before your daddy has a conniption. Tell Ms. Porter we're praying for her.”

“I will. Thanks so much. You're very thoughtful.”

“It's nothing compared to what your mama's done for us. Bye now.” Mrs. Green ambled down the sidewalk to the street while Molly skipped ahead. She turned and waved to Lindsey.

Lindsey waved back. She waited in the open doorway until they were buckled in. The truck rattled down the street. She closed the door with her hip and headed for the living room to show the flowers and pie to her mom.

The Tea Grannies—Lindsey's Grandma Madeleine Matthews, Mary Levine, Nancy Scott, Lillian West and Alice Seaver, leader of the pack—had rearranged the dining room chairs in a semicircle in front of the couch where Mom lay with her leg propped on a mound of pillows. The wedding ring quilt covered Mom from the waist down.

Mom's eyes were closed. The Tea Grannies rested their wrinkled hands on her arms and legs. They were whispering. Lindsey took another step into the living room.

They weren't whispering. They took turns praying over Mom. The sweet sincerity of their words brought a lump to Lindsey's throat. They really believed in the power of prayer. But weren't they just setting themselves up for disappointment? What if God ignored them the way He ignored her? Then what? Their words were meaningless. A waste of breath.

She pivoted on her heel and left the room. She hurried to
the kitchen. Placing the pie on the stove next to the molded Jell-O, she gripped the flower stems until the crinkled cellophane cut in her palm. She dropped them on the counter.

Opening and slamming doors to drown out the Tea Grannies' words echoing inside her head, she searched for a vase.

It wasn't fair.

All her life she heard how God always heard the prayers of His children and answered them. According to His will.

Why hadn't God listened to her?

She had been a good girl, staying out of trouble, minding her parents, leading a good life. What did she do that was so wrong for God to turn a deaf ear?

Why didn't He heal Dad? Or hear her when she begged Him to change Stephen's mind? What was so wrong with her that God rejected her prayers?

She was thankful Mom was healing. But that had more to do with modern medicine and skilled doctors. Right?

At least she came to her senses and stopped wasting time on her knees.

She filled a clear vase halfway with water. She had just ripped the cellophane off the flowers when she heard a light tapping on the kitchen door.

Drying her hands, Lindsey padded to the door and wrenched it open. Stephen and Tyler stood on the welcome mat, each holding a potted purple chrysanthemum.

She hadn't seen Stephen since last weekend when he'd stopped by to do yard work. With Mom being released and Lindsey caring for her, she told herself she didn't miss him.

Right. And unicorns grazed in the backyard.

And just when she was getting used to the idea of him not showing up every time she turned around, he knocked on her door. Well, Mom's door. But still.

With her emotions a jumbled mess, all she could think of was the way his arms felt around her last week after she cut
her foot. Oh, how she longed—even though she knew it was crazy—to rest her cheek against his chest and feel the security of his arms holding her close. Comfort from a friend. She could live with that. For now. But no way was she going to ask.

Lindsey plastered a smile on her face and hoped he didn't look too close to see her watery eyes. “Stephen, hi. Hey, Tyler. What brings you guys by?”

Stephen gave her that charming half smile that sent a rush of warmth through her body. He ruffled Tyler's hair. “Ty wanted to come over and see if he could sign Mrs. Grace's cast.”

Lindsey looked over her shoulder toward the living room. “I, uh, don't think that's such a good idea right now.”

“Is your mom sleeping?”

“No, she's awake. But she has company.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The Tea Grannies are here.”

Stephen's eyes widened and he took a step backward. “Enough said.”

Tyler tugged on the hem of Stephen's black leather jacket. “Who, Dad?”

“Lindsey's grandma and her friends. The older ladies at church who pinch your cheeks and give you those butter-scotch candies you don't like.”

Tyler rubbed his cheek against his shoulder. “But why can't we go in?”

Stephen squatted in front of his son. “Well, Ty, it's like this. The Tea Grannies might see us talking to Lindsey and might want us to go on a date or something.”

“Yuck.” Tyler held his stomach and stuck out his tongue. He gave Lindsey a half smile eerily similar to his dad's. “But you did say Lindsey was pretty.”

Lindsey choked back a laugh and delighted in seeing a flush rise above Stephen's collar. About time he had the
disadvantage for a change. She tried to pretend Tyler's announcement meant nothing, but who was she kidding? So, Stephen still thought she was pretty?

“You know what? You two can hang out in the kitchen until they're gone, if you want. They shouldn't be much longer. Plus, there's a ton of food. Have you eaten?”

“We don't want to intrude. We'll leave the flowers and come back another time.”

“But, Dad—”

Stephen raised his eyebrows and shot his son a look that stopped the rest of Ty's words from tumbling out. Ty dropped his head and kicked the edge of the mat with the toe of his sneaker, but not before Lindsey caught sight of the puffed-out bottom lip.

“Really, Stephen, I don't mind. There is no way we can eat all of this food. Please come in.”

“If you're sure.”

Of course she wasn't sure. Being around him was like playing with fire—she would most likely end up burned. But she didn't want to tell Ty no. “I am.”

“Okay, for a few minutes.” He looked at Ty. “We'll stay for thirty minutes and not a second more, okay? We don't want Mrs. Grace or Lindsey to get tired of us.”

Lindsey ushered them into the kitchen. She moved food off the table so they would have a place to sit. She found plates, napkins and utensils for them.

Stephen helped Ty fill his plate and then fixed his own. He smiled at Lindsey. “You're not kidding about all of this food.”

She waved a hand over the table. “It's crazy. I can freeze some of it for Mom to reheat after I head back to Maple Valley, but some of it will go to waste. I don't suppose you know of families that could use it?” Mrs. Green and Molly came to mind, but she had no idea where they lived.

“I'll make some calls and see what I can do to help you out.” He took a bite of someone's homemade macaroni and cheese and stared out the window. “So, when do you plan to head back to Maple Valley, Linds?”

“Hard to say. Depends on Mom's leg. I've been doing some stuff through email and phone. And on the weekends, Grandma and Aunt Claire said they can stay with Mom so I can spend a few hours at the inn.” She set a glass of milk in front of Ty. His mouth full of food, he smiled up at her. Pushing his hair off his forehead, she dropped a kiss on his soft skin before common sense kicked in. She moved away from Tyler, sat across the table from Stephen and rested her chin in her palm.

“Sounds tiring. All that driving.”

She shrugged. “Just doing what needs to be done. Things will be easier when Mom's back on her two feet. In the meantime—” The rest of her words evaporated as Stephen grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb brushed over her knuckles.

Stephen had always been an affectionate guy, handing out hugs and kisses on cheeks as if they were popcorn at the movies. So his touch was nothing more than Stephen being Stephen. Friendship. She had to remember that.

Her eyes shifted to his fingers—long and lean. Calloused and nicked from working with wood. She frowned. Something was different. For a second, she couldn't place it. Then it hit her.

Her breath hitched.

Stephen had removed his wedding band.

A milky-white ring circled his finger where the gold band had been.

“Oh, my lands! Maddie. Mary. Lillian. You have got to come here this instant.”

Lindsey jerked her hand away and stood so quickly that her chair crashed over backward. She righted the chair.

Holding the teapot, Alice Seaver beamed as if she'd learned her Social Security checks had been tripled. Grandma and the other two grannies crowded in the kitchen doorway.

Stephen carried his empty plate to the sink and rinsed it. “Finish up, Ty. We need to get going.”

Too late. By this evening, all of Shelby Lake would be speculating about Lindsey's relationship to Stephen. Leave it to the Tea Grannies to catch them holding hands, sort of.

The phone rang, giving Lindsey a reprieve from the not-so-subtle winking and elbow nudging.

Lovely.

She glared at her grandmother as she answered the phone. “Hello.”

“Oh, Lindsey, I'm so sorry to be a bother, but I'm in such a pickle.” Her assistant manager's voice wavered.

“Rita, you're never a bother. What's wrong?”

“My son-in-law called a minute ago. My daughter, Alena, went into labor.”

Lindsey tightened her grip on the phone. Her eyes darted to the calendar hanging next to the phone. “I thought she wasn't due until Thanksgiving.”

“She wasn't, but she went into premature labor. The baby displayed fetal distress, so her OB scheduled a C-section for this afternoon. Logan needs to be with his wife, of course, but they don't have anyone to care for the twins, Scott and Mitchell. Logan asked if Paul and I could stay with the kids for a few days until his mother gets back from her cruise.”

“Rita, don't give it another thought. Pack your bags and go.” Her shoulders slumped.

“But what about the inn? Every room is full. There's that historical tour on Saturday, plus the business owners' asso
ciation meeting Monday afternoon. And the plans for the harvest festival—oh, Lindsey, I feel horrible.”

“I will take care of everything. Your family needs you.”

“I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

Lindsey hung up and banged her head softly against the wall next to the phone. Mom needed her. The inn couldn't run itself. How could she be in two places at once?

 

Stephen didn't expect to be talking about the birds and the bees in the baby aisle at Target, but when Ty asked where babies came from, his brain downshifted sharply, grinding gears as he tried to figure out what to say. Trying to buy some time, he dropped two refills of baby wipes into the cart and grabbed a package of diapers. Ty continued to stare at him with those I-asked-a-question-and-will-stare-at-you-until-I-get-my-answer blue eyes.

Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Stephen shifted his weight and leaned forward on the handle of the cart. “Well, Ty, my man, that's a very good question. Babies are gifts from God, made by moms and dads that they get to take care of. They grow in the mommy's tummy until they're healthy enough to be born.”