“And...the others?” April whispered.
Kate shook her head. Her eyes stinging, April reached for his mother’s hand, the older woman’s fingers closing around hers in silent understanding. “We’re incredibly proud of him for everything he’s overcome thus far. And I know there’s been plenty of times when he’s wanted to give up. Especially when he finally came home—back to his wife and child, I mean—and she told him she couldn’t...”
Kate stopped, clearly choked up. “Men hear all their lives that they have to be strong. That they’re not allowed to hurt, or to hide it if they are. So they—the men—get frustrated and confused and pull away when all they want is to be comforted.”
April realized Kate was squeezing her hand. “Patrick won’t let you comfort him?”
She was quiet for a moment, “I think I was afraid to try. That
he’d
think I was treating him like my baby.” With a soft laugh she scrubbed away a tear with the edge of her sweater sleeve.
“Which of course he still is. They all are.” Then she sighed. “Obviously he doesn’t look the same. And I gather he still has nightmares, although not as often as before. He may be in therapy all his life, for both the physical and mental issues. But inside, past all the junk, he’s no different than he ever was. Patrick was the happiest kid, always smiling, always goofing around.”
“And you want to see that kid again.”
The older woman dug a tissue out of her pocket, wiped her nose. “Yes.” She stopped again, clearing her throat. “Patrick needs someone in his life—besides us, I mean—with the strength and courage to know what’s true about him even when things are tough. To comfort him even when he says he doesn’t want it. To, I don’t know, coax who he used to be out of hiding. Natalie—his ex—wasn’t that person.”
April almost laughed. “And you think I am?”
“Oh, I have no idea. I’ve just met you. But
you
need to know what you’re getting yourself into. If things were to...progress. For both your sakes—”
“Ma!” A big-boned redhead who looked very much like Kate stuck her head out the front door. “You want to make the gravy, or you want me to?”
“I’ll be right there, Frannie.” Kate got to her feet, dusting off her bottom and stretching a little. “Old butts and hard steps don’t mix,” she said on a laugh as April stood as well, flinching slightly when Kate drew her into a hard hug, whispering, “Knowledge is power,” before heading into the house.
April followed Patrick’s mother inside, stopping for a moment in the lobby to process, if not steel herself against, the raucous laughter drifting out from the kitchen. A vociferous bunch, those Shaughnessys.
Another woman appeared, this one a little younger than the first. Thinner. Wiry haired. “April, right? I’m Bree, another sister,” she said, striding across the foyer to pump April’s hand, a huge grin splitting her pretty face. “The house is seriously amazing. And the kitchen...” She laughed. “Oh. My. God.” When April laughed back, Bree thumbed over her shoulder. “You mind if we rearrange the dining room furniture—?”
“Oh! No, go right ahead, do whatever you like with it.”
“Got it.” Bree disappeared, and April shut her eyes.
She’d originally envisioned the inn as a refuge from the storm of life, perhaps because that’s how she’d seen it as a child—an antidote to that constant upheaval. Not that she expected being an innkeeper would be all sunshine and roses, or that there would never be surprises—she grimaced, thinking of the ravaged grounds—but as much as lay within her power she wanted her guests to feel that same peace.
Except now she remembered how they’d laughed their way through those summers, she and Mel and Blythe, the walls of their grandmother’s house ringing with their shrieks of glee. As had her grandmother’s ears, most likely. Oh, there’d been no peace back then, she thought, smiling.
But there had been something even better:
Joy.
Excitement shuffled through her as she realized what had been before was still here, more than sufficient to trump the bitter memories her mother wanted to believe had infected the place.
That’s
what had been at the root of that silly childhood dream of one day owning the Rinehart property, that had made her jump on the opportunity to buy out her cousins.
Another burst of laughter went up, this time from the dining room, along with the bumps and knocks and scraping of furniture being rearranged, and tears burned her eyes, happy tears, as she pictured all the weddings and anniversaries and family gatherings she hoped to host in the coming years. Then the men began trooping in, Patrick demanding they all remove their shoes, not touch anything until they’d washed their hands, and her heart warmed, then cramped, as she replayed his mother’s words in her head.
Because being an adult was all well and good, but not at the expense of snuffing out—or letting outside influences snuff out—that ember of childlike bliss that made life worthwhile. Sure, kudos to the man for overcoming all he had since his life-changing event. Courage, fortitude—he had them in spades. Still. Coping wasn’t the same as living. Far from it. And maybe, just maybe, she could stoke that ember.
You don’t know that
.
Very true. But she didn’t know that she couldn’t, either.
And she wouldn’t know unless she tried.
Chapter Six
L
eaning against the inn’s kitchen counter, his daughter sacked out against his chest, Patrick said to his mother, “So what were you two talking about?”
Chuckling, she glanced over at him as she dried the turkey platter prior to lugging it back home. It’d driven him nuts, not being able to pin her down until now. But there was no way to have a private conversation with two dozen people around.
“This and that,” Ma said, setting the platter on the counter before slipping into her coat. “Girl talk, mostly.”
“Meaning you’re not going to tell me.”
“Nope.”
She checked the clean kitchen one last time, then excused herself to visit the restroom. His dad wandered in, chewing on a toothpick as he gave the space an approving once-over.
“I wouldn’t’ve thought it possible, what those gals did with the place.” He climbed onto a stool behind the massive island, smiling for Lili. “Brings back memories, how you kids used to pass out like that. Sometimes I miss it.” He paused. “You hear from her mother today?”
“No. Not that I expected to.”
“Shame. For her sake,” Pop said. “Although for yours I can’t say I’m sorry Natalie’s not in the picture anymore.”
Patrick frowned. “You never said that before.”
“Didn’t feel it was my place.”
“And now it is?”
His father was quiet for a long moment, chewing the toothpick. Then he said around it, “She’s something else, huh?”
“Who?”
“April, who else? And you know what I think?” He tossed the toothpick in the trash bag waiting to be hauled to the mini Dumpster outside. “I think you should ask her out.”
Shifting Lili in his arms, Patrick sighed. “And you’ve been talking to Luke.”
“Maybe. Oh, c’mon—what’s the worst that could happen? She says no. No harm, no foul, right? But you gotta start somewhere, put yourself out there.”
“And why do we keep having the same conversation?” Patrick whispered, cupping Lili’s head when she stirred in her sleep. “I did try putting myself out there, remember? It didn’t work.”
“So you try again,” Dad said, with a slight bow in his direction. “And don’t give me that look. You know yourself you’ve never been a quitter. Right? And anyway, something tells me—” he lowered his voice “—you got a shot with that one, okay?” He grinned. “And you know it, too, don’t you?”
“And you’re butting in.”
Joe shrugged, unconcerned. “Gives me something to live for. Look, all we want is to see you happy again. Like you used to be...uh...”
“Before. Got it.”
“It’s up to you, son, that’s all I’m saying. You’ve got a lot more control over things than you might want to believe.”
“You’re right. I do. And the one thing I can control, or at least try to, is how my actions affect Lilianna. She’s basically already lost one mother. No way am I putting her through that again.”
“So you’re gonna live like a monk until she leaves for college?”
“Joe, for heaven’s sake,” his mother said, returning to dig in her purse for a tube of hand cream. “Leave the boy alone. You want us to take the baby?” she said, squirting the goop into her palm then briskly rubbing her hands together.
Suddenly the thought of letting Lili go was like a stab to the chest. “No,” he said, nuzzling her temple. “I’m going straight home. Soon as I talk to April, catch her up on where we stand.
With the grounds,
” he said at his parents’ simultaneously lifted brows and faint smiles. “So you two go on, I’ll talk to you later.”
After a kiss and hug from his mother, a slap on the shoulder from his dad, they left. Took a few minutes to find April, though, in the huge house. But he finally did, in a small den off the gathering room that was part of her private suite. She was curled up on a love seat, wrapped in a throw and staring into the flames in the gas fireplace. At his knock on the door frame, she jumped, then turned that demon-defying smile on him. Those soft sea-colored eyes. And at that moment he knew the worst that could happen, should he do what everyone kept telling him to do, wasn’t that she’d say no.
The worst that could happen was that she’d say yes.
* * *
She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, of course. And as it was, she’d hied her little booty away the moment she realized Patrick and his father were talking about her. But she’d heard enough. Enough to realize that Patrick and she had reached some sort of tipping point or whatever you wanted to call it, where they needed to face this thing head-on and make a conscious decision that nothing was ever going to happen or to give it a shot.
Oh, she’d have to take the lead, that much was obvious. Even though that went against every ounce of Good Southern Girl training she’d ever had. But sometimes, a girl just had to channel her inner brazen hussy.
“Hey,” she said softly as the hussy checked her makeup, spritzed on some more Aqua Net. “I thought you’d gone.”
“Almost,” Patrick said. After a long, assessing look that made her toes curl. Or the hussy’s. Somebody’s. “But we never really had a chance to talk about the damage.”
“Oh. Right.”
More assessing. More curling. “Although it’s not as bad as it looked, thankfully.”
“You don’t have to stand there, you know. Come on in. Sit.”
He did, sitting on the very edge of the wing chair across from her, cradling the tiny girl on his lap so she molded to him. April smiled, trying to ignore the squeeze to her insides. Wasn’t working. “Somebody’s plumb worn out.”
Then he smiled down at his daughter and the squeezing became almost painful. “I think we all are.” He glanced around at the room, done up in muted jewel tones. “I hadn’t seen this room before. It’s nice.”
“Yeah, since we cleaned out an entire Dumpster’s worth of worthless junk my grandmother had accumulated over the last ten years. But I like that it’s cozy. The gathering room feels overwhelming when it’s only me.”
“I can imagine.” A slight frown marred his brow before his gaze fell back to his daughter, a bundle of limp adorableness in a bright green hoodie and purple tutu. The thought of all that fluff in Patrick’s big, rough hands made April smile. Finally he looked up, the picture of concern. “Are you okay? I mean, all by yourself in this big place?”
“Oh, sure. Although I’ll admit it was a little creepy at first.” Was it okay to admit she’d never lived on her own before her marriage? That she’d moved into an apartment after Helene’s death because she didn’t feel like their house was really hers? “I can’t wait for my first guests. And I think I’m going to look for some kind of live-in caretaker. Maybe a couple. Haven’t decided yet.”
“Sounds like a plan. So anyway...” His gaze slipped slightly to her left. “We saved most of the plantings for now. We can come back on Monday to rebuild the gazebo, replant the few things that are too far gone. It’s covered,” he said with a slight grin. “Remember? Because you didn’t haggle?”
“I see.” She fingered the arm of the sofa. Thought she’d take a stab at teasing. “So you did overcharge me.”
He actually laughed, loudly enough to make Lili stir. “No. But stuff happens. At least this time we don’t have to eat the loss.”
“Dear Lord. Does that happen often?”
“What? Oh. No. Not really. We always charge enough to cover our bu...uh, ourselves. When plants die, things like that—”
Do it,
the hussy said, huffily.
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it.
“Ask me,” April said softly, electricity jolting through her. Her cousins would be so proud. Of course, she hadn’t asked
him,
to which the hussy was rolling her eyes. But at least she’d given him the opening, right? Baby steps.
Patrick’s eyes jerked to hers. “What?”
“Ask me out.”
“April—”
“Nothing fancy,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound desperate. Because she wasn’t. Really. “Dinner at Emerson’s. Maybe a movie. If things work out...” Her heart thumped against her sternum. “Maybe a good-night kiss at the end.”
Oh, dear. He actually flinched. And not, she didn’t think, because he found the idea appalling. Frowning though he was. Strange, and wonderful, the feeling of power that gave her.
“I thought I made it clear—”
“What’s clear,” she said, “is that there’s something humming between us. Agreed?”
After a long pause, he nodded. “Agreed.” Oh. Wow. Okay, then. Except then he said, “That doesn’t mean I feel right about acting on it.”
Well, shoot. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not in the market for a relationship, for one thing. And don’t know whether I ever will be. You, on the other hand—”
“—see somebody I’d like to get to know better. What’s so hard to understand—?”
“Why you’d pick me.”
Although his gaze held steady in hers, that wasn’t enough to distract her from the distrust she saw there. The disbelief. She half wanted to clobber him upside the head with one of Mel’s copper-clad skillets. “Seriously? You’re questioning my judgment?”