Along the Broken Road (27 page)

When the hair on the back of his neck prickled, he knew she was standing there, in his doorway. He turned to find her, hands on hips. Concern framed her features. “What are you doing?”

“I need to talk to you, Charlee.”

The screen groaned as she shoved it open and stepped inside. It clanged shut behind her, but Charlee stood stoic, neither entering the room nor leaving it. Her gaze shot to his military backpack and stalled there.

“I’m packing.”

Her brows shot up. “I can see that.”

He lifted a hand in her direction. “Don’t jump to any conclusions. This is just in case.”

“In case what, Ian?”

He pulled a breath, let it out. “In case you won’t agree to stop—”

She threw her head back and groaned. “Are you still going on about that? I told you last night and this morning, I can’t.”

Ian moved to the edge of the table, where he could anchor his body. Hands flat, he leaned on the solid wood. “If you won’t promise, I have to leave.”

She shook her head, long hair floating around her. “I don’t know what happens to me, but there’s this voice that won’t stop telling me to go, to just get out. I don’t have control over it.”

He pushed off the table, stepped around the chairs, and landed at her feet. “I know that, sweetheart. But you have to find the way. You have to learn how to stop the voice. No one can do that but you. Not even me.”

Her eyes filled. “I love you, Ian.”

The words cut deep, but they were also a soothing balm. How four words could cause such pain and such joy all at once, he couldn’t understand. “I’m counting on that.” In fact, he was banking everything on it. In his mind, this was the only way, and he knew Major Mack would agree.

“But you’re willing to just throw it away?”

“You can stop me by promising me that no matter what, you won’t run.”

“You know I can’t. So, you’re just quitting on me?” Her tone was acerbic.

He pleaded. “I’m trying to give us a chance.”

Her hands fisted and he knew her well enough to know she’d like to throw a punch at him right now. “There’s one last entry in your dad’s journal. We’re at the end of it, Charlee.”

Her gaze darted around the room until landing on the book.

“Will you sit down? I’ll read it to you.”

The air in the cabin was thick, making it hard for Charlee to breathe. This would be the last entry. The final words of her father before . . . before . . .

She lowered her body into a chair at the table.

Ian slipped into the chair across from her and when her eyes met his, she knew he was drawing strength from her, strength to open the journal of the man they both loved. And Charlee really did love her father. She knew that now. And she missed him. He was so much more than the drill sergeant she’d known. He’d not been able to open himself up to her because he’d always felt it was his job to make her strong. And now she’d garner that strength to read the very last words her father had penned. Ian reached to take her hand, but when she felt his flesh against hers, she withdrew. If his love could be switched on and off with the refusal of a promise, she didn’t need him.

But when he blinked and she saw the moisture filling his eyes and making them swim, all her anger melted. Ian was in pain. He drew a breath, flattened his hands on the table as if the motion would force courage into him. She watched him war with his body. She watched as he lost the battle before it even began. Ian opened the journal with a trembling hand.

He cleared his throat. “March 11. I met a man this morning whose eyes were filled with regret. I stared at him for a long time, and as the suffering became too great, I took a long look at my own life. Many a man is alive because of my commitment; that I know. But who pays the price? My own flesh and blood. Jeremiah, Isaiah, Gabriel, and Caleb. And more than the others, Charlee. Because her heart is so tender and she is so strong. Like her mother. Charlee, you don’t know the depths of the power within you. You only have to reach and it’s there. I met a man with regrets. I looked into his eyes and my own world was mirrored back at me. Charlee, don’t end up like me.”

Ian stopped reading, his voice having cracked on the last word. And Charlee knew why. Her father was almost perfect in Ian’s sight. And here he was, a man so larger than life he became the standard for which all men could be measured. He’d died to protect Ian. He’d lived to make young men and women strong enough to survive in war.

Ian continued after several deep breaths. “What greater gift can a man give than to lay down his life for his friends?” Tears streamed down his face. “I am no special man. I am simple, Charlee. I loved your mother. And I still love her and will one day die loving her. She was the light of a shadowed world. She was a warrior, a fighter, a leader. She was the universe in a beautiful flesh package. I know the disservice I’ve done to you. For all the men I’ve trained to live and survive and thrive, I’ve not done that for you. I didn’t know how. You’re like your mother and she was so much stronger than I could ever be. Does the sky help the sun to shine? Does the bank help the river to flow? What could I have offered you? And yet, I know I’ve let you down. I love you, Charlee. Whatever obstacles may be in your path, you have the power to destroy them. I met a man this morning with regrets. But I closed my eyes and the image in the mirror disappeared. In the darkness, I saw your face. And you became my light. I am a man with regrets, but I’m also a man with hope. Charlee, find the way.”

Slowly, Ian closed the journal.

“When did he write this—?” She couldn’t finish because her heart was breaking.

“A few days before he died.”

She breathed in, trying to create calm in a world senseless with sorrow. She’d known her father loved her. But she’d never seen their relationship through his eyes like she did now.

“Your dad used to tell me a story.” Ian squared his shoulders. “About a man and a fishing hole.”

A laugh surprised Charlee by slipping right out of her mouth. “Yes.” She wiped the renegade tears off her cheeks. “I remember this story.”

“The man lost his eyesight. But he still knew the way to the fishing hole. He didn’t need any help. Didn’t need anyone to lead him.” Ian leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, giant shoulders dwarfing the space. “Charlee, you know the way to the fishing hole; you just have to get there.”

She bit into her bottom lip. Did she? Ian might think so. Even her father might have thought so, but Charlee wasn’t as strong as they believed. “I don’t know the way.”

Ian reached over and squeezed her hand. “Then it’s time for you to find it. You’re not blind, Charlee. You can find your way. Put one foot in front of the other.”

She knew what this meant. He wasn’t going to be there to help her. “And you’re still leaving?”

He blinked several times, as if hearing her say it shot daggers into his heart. “You have to find it in yourself, Charlee. I can’t do this for you.”

“If you leave, how do you know I won’t run?”

“I don’t.”

“And you’d be okay with that?”

Ian pressed his hands to his face. “I’m not okay with any of this. But I know it’s what I have to do. What you do is up to you.”

She thought about that. If Ian left . . . broke her heart, would she run? Probably. She couldn’t imagine being without him. She was in love. Real love. Love that wasn’t based on a lot of empty promises and plans for the future like Richard had given her. She’d been in love with him, but more with the ideas he’d put in her head. Traveling the globe, romantic getaways, she could paint and he would . . . would what? Be there with her. That’s all he’d said he wanted. To be with her no matter where she went or what she wanted to do.

Her love for Ian was different. They’d never even talked about the future. Never even discussed the tomorrows. Their love was based in the now. It was built on work and sweat and mutual respect. It was real. “I don’t know what I’ll do, Ian. I don’t know if I’ll run. I guess we’ll find out.” Slowly, she stood from the table and walked—putting one foot in front of the other—until she was at his front door. “Do me a favor,” she whispered, uncertain if he’d hear the words or not.

“Yes,” he croaked.

“Miss me while you’re gone.”

But he was right behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He was breathing hard, and, she knew, fighting off the tears, but she felt strangely detached from the whole thing. Like she was watching it from above as it happened to someone else. Empathetic, yes, but not
her
. It wasn’t happening to her.

He didn’t seem able to let go. Charlee’s eyes drifted closed. She didn’t want to ask him where he was headed, but needed to know. For some inexplicable reason, she had to know. “Do you want to tell me where you’re going?” It sounded so formal and unscathed, she paused to make sure it was her voice.

“I’m taking the job my dad offered.” Words shouldn’t have the ability to be so filled with pain and uncertainty. They were only words, for heaven’s sake. They shouldn’t be able to show such despair. But there they were, telling Ian’s secret sorrow. “I’ll miss you,” he said when she only nodded in answer.

“Good-bye, Ian.” She started to turn, but he stopped her by crushing her against him. His arms came around her, head buried in her hair.

“You know you could just promise not to run.” His voice was filled with pain, hopelessness, and one last dying effort.

Promise? What good would it do? In the real world, the world she lived in, Charlee ran when things got too hard. When something cut too deep or hurt too much. It would be an empty promise. It would be a lie.

After a little while, his grip loosened. Charlee’s eyes were closed and when he started to move away from her, she had to fight not to wrap her hands and arms around his. She felt him reach behind them. A moment later, he slid something into her hand. Charlee looked down at her father’s journal. Silently, she left the cabin.

CHAPTER 17

“Oh my goodness,” Ashley Gruber whispered; her heart nearly leapt into her throat as her eyes rested upon the painting of her and her daughter at the edge of the ocean, head thrown back, Vivi laughing, her baby belly round and shining in the sun’s rays. It was as if the two of them were bathed in angelic light. Ashley’s eyes sought and found Wynona, who stood on the opposite side of the painting. “I don’t understand.”

Wynona reached behind her. “Here’s another.”

In this picture, Vivi played at the edge of a stream in the park. She knew this picture and the other, but . . . “These are from photographs?” Her mind worked to understand.

Wynona nodded. “Yes. I found some of the photos on your Facebook page. Your father has been living your life along with you . . . just not bothering you in the process. He painted these from the Facebook posts.”

Ashley’s world spun around her. This wasn’t the father she’d known after her mom died. This was . . . this was more like the man who had raised her. Older than the other dads. Wise. Full of experience and wisdom he loved to pass along to her. They’d always had grown-up conversations, she and her father. Even when she was very small. He never talked down to her. He’d been interested in her perspective on things, her opinions. “He’s why I wanted to be an attorney.”

Wynona led her to the kitchen table, where Ashley dropped into a chair. “He taught me that my voice could make a difference.” Her eyes found Wynona. “Why didn’t he reach out? Once he was sober, why didn’t he try to have a relationship with me again?” And suddenly, Ashley was jealous for all the time she’d missed. “He obviously was able to have a relationship with you. With everyone here.”

“I don’t think he wanted to risk hurting you again.” Wynona’s mouth pressed into a straight line. “Before my Horace died, do you know what he told me?”

Ashley shook her head.

“He told me he wished we’d never met.”

Ashley’s mouth dropped open.

“He said he could deal with dying if he didn’t have to watch me suffer. He said that if he could take the pain away of me having to watch him die, he’d do it. Even if it meant us never meeting in the first place. That’s how strong love can be.”

“You said you found
some
of the photographs on my page. Are there more paintings?”

“Yes, dear. Dozens.”

“Will you show me?”

Wynona nodded and stood from the table. With the soft light of a summer sun shining through the window, she led Ashley to the loft where Arnold Gruber experienced his daughter’s world vicariously through a lifetime of paintings.

Ian had barely settled into his temporary room when his dad knocked on the bedroom door. Ian turned to face him. “Can you put me to work right away?”

His dad, dressed in a flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, Dickies, and steel-toed work boots, let his weight fall against the doorjamb. “Good to see you too.”

Ian dropped the T-shirt he held and looked at his dad. “Sorry. Just anxious to get started.” He attempted a smile.

“I can see you are.” But his dad didn’t answer the question, so Ian went back to folding the wrinkled clothes from his pack.

“So?” his dad finally said.

Ian looked up again.

“The girl?”

“Charlee?” Even her name on his tongue caused splinters in his heart. Ian had to turn away to keep his dad from seeing the truth. “Summer’s over. Job’s done.” And even to him, it sounded so final, so absolute.

His dad drew a breath and let it out, and Ian couldn’t imagine what was going on inside the man. He was usually all business. Get the job done, not hover in doorways asking personal questions. That would suggest he cared what had happened, and Ian didn’t really believe he did. “None of my business, but when she was here . . .”

Ian turned on him. “That was an act, Dad. Charlee wasn’t my girlfriend; she pretended to be because Brenna was here and Charlee thought that was a lousy situation for me to be put in. It was, by the way.”

His dad frowned. “Worked out, though.”

Ian laughed without humor. “Yeah. Worked out just fine.” He didn’t try to stop the bitterness in his tone.

“Girl must care quite a bit about you to put on a show like that.” His eyes darted around the room Charlee had shared with Ian. “Even stayed in here with you.”

Ian closed his eyes, wishing the memory of Charlee there could be erased. “I slept on the floor.” Of course, Charlee had slept there with him, but he didn’t mention that.

His dad nodded and Ian continued unpacking. When the silence reigned, he thought his dad must have left, but when he turned, he found he’d walked in and sat down at the small corner table.

Ian cocked his hands on his hips. “What?”

“What happened between you two?”

Really? His dad wanted a heart-to-heart?

Thomas motioned with the crook of his thumb to the doorway. “Your mother said I should talk to you.”

Ah. Now the inquisition made sense. Ian dropped into the chair ready to stick to his summer’s-over-job’s-done spiel, but when his gaze landed squarely on his father’s, he saw it—the shreds of interest reflecting in his dad’s eyes. “I’m in love with her.”

“That’s not news, son. Any man with eyes could see that.”

“And she loves me too.”

His dad nodded, didn’t speak. No biting words of sarcasm. No criticism. Just silence.

“She has some things she needs to work through if we’re going to be together.”

His dad frowned. “And she’s working through them, now?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. I hope.”

That’s when it happened. His dad reached across the table and took hold of Ian’s forearm. “She’ll come to her senses. And if she doesn’t, she doesn’t deserve you.”

Ian’s mouth hung open.

“I mean that. You’re a good man. I hope . . . well, I just hope I can be a better part of your life than I have in the past.”

Ian didn’t know what to say. “We all make mistakes, Dad. Let’s just move forward and not look back.”

His dad smiled, eyes softening, crinkling around the edges. Before the moment could become too tender, he stood and walked to the door. “Of course, I’m not going to put together your benefits package until I know for certain if you are or aren’t going to stick around, so don’t expect any paid time off.”

Ian laughed. “Got it. Can I count on you to give me a good recommendation if I leave?”

His dad closed one eye and pointed at him. “You leave to marry that girl and promise your mother some grandbabies and I’ll consider it.”

Ian nodded. His dad disappeared down the hall whistling. Grandbabies. He’d love to make his mom a promise like that, but the thought of him and Charlee together grew farther and farther away. He wanted to believe she’d work through it; he just couldn’t convince himself it would actually happen.

Wynona sat at the hospital in a chair where she’d spent many hours. She’d had to fight not to bling out the arms, but had opted to make sets of sunglasses instead. Now, almost every nurse on the floor owned a pair of Wynona originals. Her gaze drifted from the shades she was working on to Arnold’s room. It had been three weeks since the surgery. When her gaze skittered from the doorway to his bed, she found him watching her.

Her heart did a little flop, but she blinked, offered a polite smile and went right on with her blinging. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him reach for, then press, the nurse’s button. For days and days, she’d sat in the hallway. He’d mostly ignored her. Ashley was planning a trip back in a few more days. She planned to bring Arnold’s granddaughter for the weekend. Because at the end of it all, Ashley still loved her dad and believed that a miracle could happen. He might come to his senses—which was what Wynona had told her repeatedly.

Moments later, the nurse arrived and over her reading glasses, Wynona watched Arnold speaking to the nurse, who turned and looked directly at Wynona. She swallowed hard and felt the onset of tears, but she gritted her teeth. This was a public hospital, for heaven’s sake. He couldn’t physically make her leave. Could he? Her stomach lurched at the thought.

The nurse came out and Wynona didn’t know what to do with her hands. She’d dropped the glasses and rhinestones in her lap and now, palms sweating, she awaited the sentence. Carol, the nurse, gave her a bright smile. Too bright. Too happy.

It didn’t matter. Wynona would stand her ground. She’d lived through the sixties. She’d done her fair share of fighting the establishment. If she had to leave, God and all his angels would know she was fighting it with every fiber of her being. And if they had to physically drag her out, so be it.

Carol smiled. “He’d like to see you.”

Wynona swept the rhinestones into her plastic container. “This is a public place. He doesn’t
own
the hallway.”

Carol blinked, tilted her chin down and crossed her arms over her chest. “Wynona, I said he’d like to see you.”

Wynona stood and met her toe-to-toe. “And I said . . .” She took hold of Carol’s arm when the words caught up to her. The hallway swayed. “What?”

Carol nodded.

Wynona’s world spun. Could she have heard right? Her hand spasmed on Carol’s arm.

The woman patted her hand. “He’d like to see you. And you know how impatient he is, so get in there.”

A sound slipped from Wynona’s mouth, it was neither a laugh nor a sigh, but something in between that reflected all the hours of waiting and all the hope that he’d come around.

She pulled a deep breath and took tiny steps until she was just inside the room.

He was using a hand to comb his hair over. Her heart smiled at the thought of him trying to primp for her. “You look fine, Arnold.”

He grunted, small frame squirming beneath the white bed cover. “And you look tired. Stubborn woman.”

She stopped at his bedside and dropped her hands to the cool metal rail. “Obstinate man.”

He tried to frown, but there was too much warmth in his eyes for it to really be convincing. “Why don’t you go home?”

“Well, you know what they say. Home is where the heart is.”

His lips were dry and cracked, his flesh held that grayed look of illness, but his attitude seemed almost back to normal.

Aged hands slid back and forth over the blanket. He dropped his gaze. “Guess I should appreciate you watching over me.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

He grunted. “You think too highly of me, Wynona.”

When his legs moved, she reached down to the blanket and tucked the edge around his knee. “And maybe you don’t think highly enough.”

He nodded toward the hall. “What have you been doing out there all this time?”

She cast a glance behind her. “Oh, this and that. All the nurses have Hollywood sunglasses now.”

“Should have known you’d sink to bribery to get your way.”

Wynona tilted her head back a bit. “I’d sink to any depths or climb to any heights for someone I love.”

Arnold blinked, sparse lashes flickering. When a thin, cold hand closed on hers, Wynona’s heart began beating faster.

“I’ve done nothin’ to earn your love.” Faded blue eyes were rimmed with red and Wynona knew he was fighting his own tears.

She drew in a long breath through her nose, lips pressed together. “That’s the great thing about love. You don’t have to earn it.” She squeezed his hand. “But you
do
have to accept it.”

A frown deepened the lines around his eyes and across his forehead. “I’ve been horrible.”

She sniffed. “An absolute beast.”

“And you’ve been so good.”

She cocked her head. “Why yes, I’m almost a saint.”

He appreciated her trying to lighten the mood, she could tell, but the look turned to concern. “Ashley was here?” When he said that, he turned as if hearing it stripped away his carefully placed facade.

“She’s coming back.”

His hand released from hers and fell against his mouth, big blue eyes filling with hope. “She is?”

Wynona nodded. “With your granddaughter.”

A puff of air escaped his mouth and now, tears fell unbidden, sliding down his cheeks into the grooves on his face. “After all I’ve done. She’s coming back? To see me?” His eyes searched hers as if the notion was impossible.