“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Geoff.” A smile bloomed across Ma’s face, and her brown eyes glinted with a spark they hadn’t held since before tragedy took Pop from them.
He cocked his head, bracing for what he already feared was coming. “What’s up with you two? I thought Geoff was just a friend.”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “He is a friend. A very dear friend. And—” She let loose a breathy sigh. “It’s turning into something more, Luc. It’s getting a little … well, serious.”
“Serious? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Geoff wants to marry me.” His mother actually blushed.
Lucas froze. “You’re kidding.”
“Would I kid about something like that?”
“You’re not seriously considering it?”
A determined glint flashed in her eyes. “Yes, Luc. I am.”
“It’s only been a year, Ma.” Even though he’d somehow known this news was inevitable, he’d hoped it would be a long time before his mother and Geoff moved beyond friendship.
She came and wrapped him in a hug. He steadied himself against the countertop, returning her embrace with one arm. She trembled against him, but when she looked up at him, she wore a peaceful smile, not the tears he expected.
“I loved your father with all my heart. No woman could have loved a man more. You know that.”
He did know that. So why couldn’t that be enough for her?
As if she’d read his thoughts, she sighed and stepped away from him, smoothing the wrinkles from the front of his shirt with slender, olive-skinned fingers. “Your dad isn’t coming back, sweetheart. Geoff is a good man. If I live to be as old as my mother, I still have a lot of years yet to live. I don’t want to be alone the rest of my days on this earth.”
“Ma—”
She reached up and pinched his cheek playfully. “I don’t want
you
to be alone either, Luc.”
He placed a hand over hers. “Don’t go trying to change the subject on me.” The lighthearted tone he’d tried to find failed miserably. “Besides, I’ve got Lucky to keep me company.”
She ignored his sorry attempt at levity. “Honey … I understand how hard this news is for you. Your dad was the closest thing to a saint this side of heaven and—”
“News? Are you trying to tell me you’ve made a decision?”
She bit the corner of her bottom lip and nodded slowly. “I’m going to say yes to Geoff. I love him, and he treats me like a queen. He wants to get married right away and—”
Lucas held up a hand, wanting to make it easier for her, even while his heart ached. “And you need me out of here by the end of the month. … I can take a hint.”
His mother laughed her musical laugh, and he felt his heart softening.
“Not so fast, buddy. No, actually, the bank has offered to move me to one of their Springfield branches. Geoff and I will live in his house in Springfield after we’re married.”
Geoff Morrison was a professor at one of the smaller universities in Springfield. Lucas couldn’t even remember which one. He liked the guy fine, but that didn’t make it any easier to think about him and Ma—together.
“I was hoping you’d stay on here,” Ma continued. “I don’t know if your sisters will come back to live over the summer, but if they want to,
I’d like them to have a place. This will be hard enough for them. …” A shadow crossed her face, but then a teasing spark came to her eyes. “You could keep paying the same rent you’ve been paying.”
Which was zero.
“But”—the spark in her eyes grew to a twinkle—“don’t think for a minute that I’m going to come over and cook and clean and wash your underwear for you.”
“Aw, come on, where’s the fun in that?” He tried to rumple her hair—a ploy guaranteed to elicit a girlish squeal—but she ducked out of reach, almost sending him sprawling. He clutched the counter and steadied himself.
She shook a finger at him. “I am also not going to hound you about your rehab and exercises, but I’d better not find out you’ve skipped so much as one session.” She said it jokingly, but he knew she was dead serious.
If not for his mother’s nagging, he would have given up a hundred times over the past year of grueling rehab. If it weren’t for her, his butt would probably still be glued to that wheelchair.
“I’m a big boy,” he teased. “I think I can handle things. And I will start paying rent the minute I get back to work.”
“I know you will, son.”
“Only … what about Pop’s flowers?” He hadn’t meant to turn serious on her again, but Pop had turned their backyard into an oasis of flower gardens and flagstone paths. It would kill him, and his sisters, too, to see it all go to seed.
She sighed. “I don’t know, honey. I can’t really expect you to keep them up. It’s practically a full-time job. Maybe I can hire someone to come in once or twice a week … at least keep things from becoming a jungle. We may have to just turn it all back to lawn.”
“Don’t do that,” Lucas said too quickly. Since Pop’s death the backyard was the one place Lucas still felt his father’s presence. “Let’s see if we can find someone to take care of it. I’ll do what I can.”
But he couldn’t pretend to possess his father’s green thumb, even if he had the physical strength to take on such a project. He hesitated, not really wanting the answer to the question he was about to pose. “So have you and the professor set a date?”
Ma shot him the same look she’d doled out routinely back when he was a mouthy teen. But her scowl softened. “Not yet, but … we’re hoping soon after Christmas.”
He stared at her. “Whoa. You’re not messing around, are you?”
“I love him, Luc.”
“I know, I know …”
He wasn’t sure if the tears that welled in her eyes now were happiness because of Geoff or sadness because of his father.
He pulled her in for a brief hug. “I tell you, it’s pretty sad when a guy’s mother can get a date before he can.”
Her laughter was just the response he was going for, but his joke hit a little too close to home. He and Ma had grown close over the past year. She had nursed Lucas through days he thought he couldn’t go on. For much of that time, he’d been too gripped by his own agony to realize how deeply she was hurting. There was no way he would deny her a chance at happiness with Geoff.
But he was glad when Ma hurried out the door to go to work. She would have seen right through his plastic smile.
She brushed the questions away. They didn’t matter now.
4
Y
ou have a lovely home. I don’t see why—even in the current market—we can’t get your asking price, or very close to it anyway.” Maggie Preston smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from the jacket lapel that bore a shiny Realtor’s pin.
Jenna had spent two full days cleaning, getting the house ready for the real estate agent’s walk-through. Apparently her efforts had paid off.
She stifled a sigh of relief. As much as she dreaded the move, it would take a huge load off her mind to be out from under the mortgage payments. The grief books she’d read all said it was wise to wait at least a year after a loss before making any major life changes. She wondered if Bill and Clarissa had taken that first anniversary—less than a week ago—into consideration when they’d invited her to move in with them.
The invitation still surprised her. But she was grateful. She’d stayed with Bill and Clarissa for a few weeks following Zach’s funeral—when she simply couldn’t face going home to the empty house. They’d gotten along well, and she thought it had comforted the Morgans a little to have her there … the closest thing to having their son back.
She’d moved back home only when she could no longer deny—or conceal—a truth she didn’t have the strength to face then. Memories bombarded her, but she fought them off.
Not now.
This wasn’t the time. …
“I have a little house you might be interested in.” The Realtor’s voice pulled her back, and she brightened, grateful for the interruption.
“Thanks, but I’m going to stay with my in-laws for a while.”
Maggie looked at her like she couldn’t be serious.
“Don’t worry,” Jenna assured her. “They have a huge house—in Clairemont Hills. I’ll have their lower level, a walk-out basement, to myself. It’s practically a little apartment.”
“Oh, well, that’s different,” Maggie said.
Would it be? Jenna couldn’t deny how good the Morgans had been to her. The memory of their many kindnesses pricked her conscience. There’d been tears in Clarissa’s eyes the other day when she’d invited Jenna to move in with them. “It’s the least we can do for our son’s wife.”
Jenna wondered then, was she still Zach’s wife? Would she forever wear the identity of “Zach Morgan’s widow”?
Walking Maggie to the door a few minutes later, she glanced at the clock. Bryn Hennesey was due to pick her up for lunch in a few minutes. It had been several weeks since she’d last seen her friend, and she was looking forward to a chance to catch up on each other’s news.
Maggie buttoned her jacket and reached for the doorknob. “I’ll try to give you as much warning as possible before I show the house, but you might want to be ready on short notice. I expect this one to go pretty fast. It’s a desirable neighborhood and you’ve done a beautiful job staging the house.”
Jenna shrugged. “I didn’t do anything special. Just cleaned.”
“Well, your decorating style is just right for a home on the market.” She turned back toward the living room and swept an arm over the view. “Tidy and a bit spare, nothing too personal on display, furniture arranged to make the rooms look as large as possible … Nice work.”
Jenna followed Maggie outside and stood on the porch as the Realtor pulled a For Sale sign out of her trunk and planted it in the front yard.
Jenna smiled and waved as she drove away, but she couldn’t get the woman’s parting comments out of her mind. She’d never thought of her home as “spare and impersonal” or even tidy, for that matter. She wondered what that said about her.
She brushed the questions away. They didn’t matter now. She was selling the house and moving in with Zach’s parents. She kneaded the spot between her eyebrows where a band of tension thrummed. She knew Bill and Clarissa would expect her to find a job. Clarissa had said as much the day she’d agreed to move in with them.
Not that she had any choice. Even if she got her full asking price for the house, she would net very little—nowhere near enough to pay off her debts. Never mind that most of the down payment on the mortgage had come from Bill and Clarissa. It had been a gift. She only hoped they wouldn’t expect her to pay it back now.
Back inside, she walked through the rooms of her house, trying to see them through the eyes of a potential buyer. The house was only four years old and looked almost new. The granite counters in the kitchen were shiny and clear of clutter, and dark cherry cabinets stood sentinel over the adjacent dining room, Jenna’s favorite spot in the house.
The doorbell rang and she ran to let Bryn in.
“What’s up with the sign?” Bryn swept a strand of dark hair off her forehead and hooked a thumb over her shoulder toward the front lawn.
Jenna looked at the floor. “I’m selling. I just can’t keep up with the payments.”
“Oh, Jen … I’m sorry. Where will you go?”
She accepted Bryn’s sympathy hug. “Would you think I was crazy if I told you I was moving in with Zach’s parents?”
A shadow crossed Bryn’s face. “Not necessarily crazy, but”—she dropped her head—“I guess that’ll be the end of our lunch dates.”
“I won’t let that happen, B. Clarissa and Bill don’t control my life.”
She didn’t even want to think about the Morgans’ reaction if they found out how close she and Bryn had become over the last few months.
Last January, Bryn had come forward and confessed to being responsible for the fire that had killed Zach and the others, including Bryn’s own husband. It was all a tragic accident—a candle left burning—but Bryn had been convicted of involuntary manslaughter and had served hours of community service for her mistake.
Bill and Clarissa were outspoken in their anger over what they felt was far too lenient a sentence. They’d been furious when Jenna offered Bryn forgiveness, and for a while—to her shame—Jenna had avoided Bryn on the Morgans’ account.
Her friend’s silence now spoke volumes, and Jenna felt her defenses rising. “It’s just for a while, until I can find a place of my own. But I promise, this won’t change our friendship, Bryn.”
Bryn gave her an enigmatic smile and looked at her watch. “Hey, I’ve got Sparky in the car. I need to drop him off at the vet. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to stop by the shelter and pick up some stuff from Susan before we go eat.”
Jenna tensed, mentally bracing herself for an encounter with Bryn’s dog, but she kept her voice light. “No problem. I’ve got the whole afternoon.”
“Must be nice.”
“Oh? Do you have to work this afternoon?” Jenna felt bad for flaunting her freedom. Bryn not only worked part-time at the public library, but she still volunteered at the new homeless shelter—work that served as her community service.
“No, but I sure wouldn’t mind having every afternoon off.”
“Well, don’t envy me too much. As soon as I get the house sold, I’ll be joining the ranks of the gainfully employed, too. I can’t expect Zach’s parents to bail me out forever.”
Bryn’s eyebrow went up. “Yeah, I’m thinking that will end about the time you bring a boyfriend home.”
“Oh? You have someone in mind for me?” Jenna teased.
Bryn laughed. “No. But I’ll start looking if you want me to.”
Jenna shook her head, sobered by the turn the conversation had taken.
Bryn’s voice softened and she put a hand on Jenna’s arm. “Hey, girl, it’s been a long, hard year. You deserve to find somebody wonderful. When you’re ready, of course.” Bryn looked down, fumbling with the keys in her hand.
Jenna knew she meant their shared tragedy, but of everyone who’d lost loved ones in the Grove Street fire, Bryn had surely suffered most. She had lost her husband, whom she’d loved deeply. But to also carry the burden of being responsible for the fire … Jenna shuddered to think what it must be like living with that guilt.