Lakeside Reunion (7 page)

Lindsey peered at him over the edge of her mug, and then looked away, finding sudden fascination in the pitcher of sunflowers in the center of the table. She would not cry in front of him again.

“Man, I'm batting a thousand today. I didn't…I mean… I'm sorry for putting my foot in my mouth.”

“No, no, not your fault. It's just that, well, those were special times. Since Dad's death, I haven't found a good enough
reason to have breakfast.” She traced the wood grain in the oak trestle table with her finger. “You must think I'm such a dork.”

“I think you're beautiful.”

Her finger stilled. Her breath caught as a warm feeling skittered down her spine. Did he say what she thought he said? She shifted in the chair.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Stephen gulped the rest of his coffee. He stood and looked at his watch.

“I need to get going. I'll see you later.”

Lindsey stood and held on to the table for support. “Thanks for the cinnamon rolls.”

Stephen walked to the door, turned and gave Lindsey a long look. “You'll find someone special to share breakfast with again.”

Problem was, Lindsey didn't want just anyone. She wanted Stephen, but she wasn't sure her heart could take the rejection a second time.

 

Stephen swiped his ID card and waited for the buzzer to sound. As soon as the light turned green, he pushed through the back door of the police station. Disinfectant mixed with burned coffee and sweat nearly choked him as he strode down the hall to Chief Laughton's office.

Seeing the chief's half-opened office door, Stephen rapped twice. Chief motioned him in. He pointed to one of the gray upholstered chairs in front of his desk with the pen in his hand.

Stephen sat and waited.

Chief hunched over his desk with the phone pressed to his ear while he doodled on his desk blotter. His grunts of agreement mingled with the hum of the fluorescent lights and ringing phones in the squad room. He rolled his eyes at Stephen.

Ending his conversation, the chief hung up the phone. Sighing, he rubbed a hand across his face. “Politics. That's what this job boils down to. I've been invited to have lunch with the mayor next week.”

Stephen tried to suppress a grin and failed. He knew what lunches with the mayor meant, having had a few himself. “You lucky dog.”

“Don't I know it. Listen, did you see Ramirez yet?”

“Ramirez? About what? I thought you wanted to talk about Lieutenant Delaney.”

Chief Laughton nodded and drummed his beefy fingers on his desk. “I do, but I think you're gonna want to hear Ramirez's story for yourself.” He pulled himself out of his chair and rounded the desk. He motioned for Stephen to follow. “Walk with me.”

They headed down the hall to the front of the building where Reba, Shelby Lake P.D.'s dispatcher, sat behind a glass wall—the same spot for the past thirty years. If anyone needed information, Reba was the go-to girl, well, woman, actually. She knew more about what happened in Shelby Lake than the
Shelby Lake Gazette
editor.

“Hey, Reebs. What's up?”

“Hi, yourself, handsome. Ramirez here has someone you should meet.” She called over her shoulder. “Hey, Jorge. Sarge's here.”

Patrolman Jorge Ramirez glanced over his shoulder, nodded at Stephen and pushed away from the wall where he was talking to another Latino man. “Hey, Sarge, 'sup, man?”

“Heard there was a story I might be interested in.”

Ramirez grinned. “Yes, sir.” He motioned to his friend. “Meet my cousin, Manny. He just got back from a hunting trip up in Maine.”

Manny held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. Jorge here says good stuff 'bout you.”

Stephen shook the man's hand. “That's always good to hear.”

“Hey, Manny. Show Sergeant Chase your photos.”

Manny withdrew a blue-and-white packet of photos from the inner pocket of his camouflage jacket. “Me and my two boys spent a week in Maine. Bagged us a moose, too. Huge spread.” He held out his arms to demonstrate the size of the moose's antlers. “You ever eat moose, sir?”

Stephen nodded. “Once in the Marine Corps. A buddy hunted one on leave and brought some back. It's been a while, though.”

“Nothing like a moose steak and a cold brew.”

Ramirez nudged his cousin. “Hey, Manny, the pictures.”

“Oh, right. Right. Sorry, sir. My mouth tends to take field trips.”

Stephen smiled, liking the guy. “No problem.”

Manny opened the envelope and pulled out the glossy prints. He fanned them like a poker hand, selected two or three and slid the rest back into the envelope. “This here's a picture of me, my two boys and the moose. Check out that spread. Didn't I tell ya?” He handed the picture to Stephen.

Stephen looked at it and understood the man's pride. The moose took up most of the picture.

“Here's the one Jorge thought you might like. Here's a picture of me, my two boys and our guide.”

Stephen had no clue why Jorge thought a moose hunt would interest him. He had nothing against hunting but didn't have the time for it. He humored the men and took the picture that Manny extended to him.

He glanced at the photo and felt the blood drain from his face. His heart pounded so loud that he was sure the other guys could hear it. His head snapped up. Reba, Chief, Jorge and Manny watched him. He schooled a neutral expression on his face, but his insides somersaulted.

He scanned the wanted posters hanging behind Reba's dispatch desk and zeroed in on a clean-shaven man with short hair who had a scarlet boomerang-shaped birthmark bracketing his right eyebrow. Stephen looked at the man in the picture. Even though Manny's guide had scruffy hair and a beard, the birthmark was the same. After five years of dead ends, they finally had a lead worth investigating.

Stephen stared at the picture of Hank Earle.

Thomas Porter's killer.

D
immed lighting cast a peaceful glow, bathing Lindsey's mother in an aura of deceptive tranquility. The light haloed the top of her head, highlighting hair a shade darker than Lindsey's. Webs of fatigue lined Mom's green eyes. Her eyelashes brushed the mauve shadows beneath her eyes. Looking at Mom was like staring into a mirror of the future. People commented on their similar appearances. Lindsey didn't mind—she loved the compliments because her mother was beautiful.

“I just don't get it, Mom.” Lindsey struggled to keep her voice calm as she straightened the requested wedding ring quilt over Mom's feet, being careful not to nudge her right leg. She smoothed out a few stray wrinkles and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. “We talk on the phone daily. Sometime in the past six months, you couldn't have told me you had met someone?”

After Stephen left, Lindsey dressed and packed a bag for Mom. She arrived at the hospital about an hour ago, interrupting Mom's breakfast. Lindsey placed the bag in the narrow closet next to the private bathroom and planned to have a quiet visit.

Then she saw the flowers.

Plump roses in autumn hues from the palest peach to the deepest orange arranged in an amber sweetheart vase greeted her from the table next to Mom's bed. The wording on the card shot Lindsey's intent for a quiet visit out the window.

And Lindsey couldn't let it go. Couldn't keep her big mouth shut.

A girl had a right to express her displeasure, didn't she? But did it have to be while her mother recovered from surgery, for crying out loud? Even though her head told her to shut up, she couldn't stop the words from tumbling over her lips.

Mom squirmed against the pillow and struggled to sit up. Her hospital gown snapped open at the shoulder and exposed smooth skin with a splatter of freckles. “It's complicated. I didn't know how you'd react.”

Lindsey reached over and snapped the gown. “Did you expect me to freak out? Or did you think by not telling me, you wouldn't have to deal with it?”

She stood, putting too much pressure on the ball of her right foot. Pain pinched her foot. She winced, limped to the blue upholstered chair and pulled it closer to the bed, being careful not to hit the IV pole or the machine that dosed out Mom's medicine. She kicked off her flip-flops—the only things that didn't rub against her sore feet—and curled her toes around the cool metal bed frame.

“Why are you limping?”

“I dropped a coffee mug this morning and stepped on a piece of glass. It's nothing.”

“I'm sorry. You're right. I didn't know how you'd take it.
What more do you want me to say? Grab my ice water, would you, honey?” Mom licked her lips and scowled.

Lindsey wrapped her fingers around the handle of the plastic insulated mug with the hospital logo on the side, still keeping the sarcasm and snark tucked away in her back pocket. A perfectly civil conversation. “Maybe if I had a heads-up about this, time to get used to the idea of my mom having a boyfriend, I wouldn't have freaked out on you. Why hide your relationship? When were you going to tell me? When he proposed?”

Mom circled the yellowing bruise around the IV needle in her hand. A light shade of pink dusted her cheeks.

An icy fist gripped Lindsey's heart and twisted. She clenched the mug until her knuckles whitened. “Mom—has Max proposed to you?”

Her mother glanced at her and then moved to trace the hand stitching in the quilt. “What? No, honey.”

She thrust the mug at her mother. “Have you talked about marriage?”

Mom took it but didn't drink. “Talking and proposing are two different things.”

“Are you kidding me? You've met someone who could possibly take Dad's place and you don't tell me? That's so not fair.”

Mom smacked the mug on the tray table. Water sloshed over the rim. “That, young lady, is probably the reason I didn't tell you. No one will ever take your father's place. Not in your eyes. Nor in mine.” She lowered her voice, but not before Lindsey caught the shimmer in her eyes. “He was one in a million. My best friend. My everything. But he's never coming back, Linds. He's gone. And I can't stop living because he died. I'm lonely. That big old house, so full of memories. And no one to share them with. Do you know what that's like?”

Lindsey pulled out tissues from the box on the table. She handed one to her mother and used another to clean up the spilled water, hating the way her fingers shook. “Considering I lost my father and my fiancé less than three months apart and moved away from everything I knew, yeah, I think I have a clue.”

“Of course you do. I'm so sorry. Blame it on the drugs. I'm not thinking straight.”

Lindsey tossed the soggy tissues in the trash and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. “I was blindsided, Mom. After stressing about you and dealing with Stephen, Aunt Claire's slip about Max was the cherry on top of a cruddy day.”

“Wait a minute, what happened with Stephen? You saw him?”

Lindsey sat on the edge of the bed and recounted her multiple run-ins with Stephen.

Mom pulled her into a hug. “Oh, baby, I'm so sorry.

She leaned against Mom's chest, careful not to dislodge the IV, and shrugged. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“No doubt since our families are so close. This probably isn't the right time or place, but I saw Dr. Geis this morning. I need to ask you something, Lindsey. Something you're not going to like.” Mom trailed her fingers through Lindsey's hair.

Lindsey braced herself. She knew what Mom was going to ask, but needed to hear it from her lips. Needed those precious few minutes to form an answer.

“He'll release me in the morning as long as I have around-the-clock care. I know you have the inn to run, but could you…I mean…would you consider staying in Shelby Lake for the next six weeks? It may be sooner, depending on how quickly I can get back on my feet. I've already spoken to Jennie, my principal. I won't be able to go back to teach
ing for at least eight weeks. If you can't do it, I understand. I know how hard being in Shelby Lake is for you. I suppose I could ask Mom, but she has the farm. Claire has the shop to run. She couldn't help me in and out of the tub. And, well, Max has his family to care for. He cares for his elderly father and gives his daughter a hand with his granddaughter. Plus, he can't help with the tub, either. Say something. Please.”

Lindsey eased off the bed and walked to the window.

Six weeks.

Forty-two days in Shelby Lake. At least. Where memories scattered like leaves in the wind. During her busiest season. Maple Valley's autumn festival was coming up in a couple of weeks. The inn was chosen as one of the stops on the historical walking tour, given its history when the area was brimming with oil and old money. Tourists visited the area when the leaves were at their peak of color. Every room would be booked.

“Well, if you need to think about it, I guess that's my answer.” Her mother's voice snapped through her thoughts.

Lindsey turned away from the window. “What? No, Mom. I mean, yeah, I'm thinking about it, but I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I promise. Would you consider recuperating at the inn? I could be with you around the clock and still run the inn.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm tired. This place is crazy. I appreciate the offer, honey, but I think it would be easier to recover at home. My doctor is here. I've already met the physical therapist. As selfish as it sounds, I want my own space. But don't you worry, I'll hire a nurse or something.”

A flock of geese soared past the window in a V-shaped formation. Freedom. Those geese stayed together. They helped and protected each other.

With only Rita, Paul and Amanda to take care of things at the inn, she'd have to hire extra help. Keep in touch daily
by phone and email. But she had no choice. Mom needed her. “I'll be here for you, Mom. I promise. I just need to make some calls.”

“There's one more thing.” Mom dropped her gaze to study her ringless left hand.

After the past thirty-six hours, Lindsey didn't think she could handle one more thing. She bit back a sigh and returned to the bed. Mom needed to be treated with patience, not like an annoyance. She fingered the cuff of her sweater. “What's that?”

“You always do that when you're uncomfortable.”

“Do what?”

“Play with the cuffs of whatever blouse or sweater you're wearing. You've done it since you picked out your own clothes.”

Lindsey pulled her hands away and folded them in her lap. “What's the one more thing, Mom?”

“I met someone.”

The three little words slipped out as a whisper, but the excited tone of her mother's voice sent a ripple through Lindsey. Change was happening. She could get on board or dig in her heels and fight it every step of the way. The choice was hers.

“I prayed, Linds. Daily. To be sure Max was God's answer to my prayers. To allow me to enjoy life again. He will never take your dad's place. We've talked about it. But my heart is big enough to love another man. And I do love him. Because you're going to be home, you'll be seeing a lot of Max.”

Lindsey wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. The sound that burst between her lips was a mixture of both. She cleared her throat. “Listen, Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't come here to pick a fight with you. I wasn't even going to mention Max until you were home and settled. But I walked in here, saw the roses and I went off. Who you see is none of my busi
ness. And if—if he makes you happy—well, then I'm happy for you.”

“I know it makes me very happy.” An unfamiliar male voice spoke from the doorway.

Lindsey stiffened. The man standing in the doorway was the same one she saw talking with her grandparents yesterday.

“Max.” Mom held out a hand. “Come in and meet my Lindsey.”

Lindsey pulled her lips into some semblance of a smile. She could do this.

Max strode into the room, his long legs eating up the distance from the door to the bed with minimal steps. Dressed in loose-fitting khakis and a brown V-neck sweater with sleeves pushed up to the elbows, he looked like a confident man comfortable in his own skin. He smiled and nodded at Lindsey, but his attention quickly shifted to her mother. Stopping on the other side of the bed, he brushed a kiss across her mother's forehead. “How are you feeling, Gracie?”

Her mother covered Max's hand with her own. Her features softened and her eyes brightened. “Tired, cranky, ready to go home.”

“Patience,
bella
.” A grin revealed white, even teeth. Max's eyes crinkled in the corners, as if laughing was something he did often.

Lindsey turned away, suddenly fascinated by the blue-and-yellow-striped wallpaper. Her mother hadn't looked at anyone like that since her father was alive. And, well, it was a bit unnerving. Change was definitely in the air.

Mom took Lindsey's hand and squeezed lightly, almost as if she were begging her to play nice. Lindsey squeezed back letting her know she understood.

“Lindsey, this is Max, my…friend. Max, this is my daughter, Lindsey.”

Max extended his hand. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Lindsey. Your mother's face glows when she talks about you.”

Lindsey released her mother's hand and took his, noting the warmth and firmness of his handshake. “Thank you. I really wish I could say the same thing, but until yesterday, I didn't know you existed.”

“Lindsey.”

The tips of Max's ears reddened. Good. She shouldn't be the only one able to see the elephant in the room.

Max patted her mother's hand. “No, Grace, it's fine. She has a right to be upset. My daughter would have reacted the same way if I had hidden you from her.” He looked at Lindsey with warm hazel eyes. “We were wrong to keep this from you, Lindsey. And for that, I'm sorry. I do hope to get to know you better. I like to believe we have a lot in common, judging by what your mother has said.”

A nurse entered the room, pushing a wheelchair. Her shoes squeaked against the polished tile floor. She smiled at them. “Good morning, Grace. I'm Susan, the day nurse. Nice to see you up and visiting with company.”

She checked Mom's vitals, scribbled on her notepad and then turned to Max and Lindsey. “Would you two mind stepping out in the hall for a few minutes to give Mrs. Porter some privacy while I help tend to her needs?”

“No problem.” Lindsey dropped a kiss on Mom's forehead and then headed for the hall. She sidestepped an orderly mopping a section of the floor and sat on the bench outside Mom's room.

“May I join you?” Max nodded toward the empty spot next to her.

Lindsey tightened her hold on her purse handle. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

“So, Lindsey, your mom tells me you own a bed-and-breakfast in Maple Valley. Beautiful area down there.”

“Yes, it is. Quiet, close enough to the city, yet far enough away to be secluded from the traffic and busyness.”

The bench creaked as he shifted in his seat. Max leaned forward, elbows on knees, and clasped his hands. “Listen, we can make polite small talk, but we're both adults. Let's cut to the chase here. I'm really sorry you found out the way you did about our relationship, but I promise I will never do anything to hurt your mother. I love her.”

Lindsey dug through her purse for her lip balm, a tissue, anything to give her head a couple of seconds to form some kind of response. She hadn't expected a candid discussion this soon, but her initial impression of Max was he didn't beat around the bush.

She uncapped her wild-berry lip balm and smoothed it across her lips. “I appreciate that, Max. I really do. These past five years haven't been easy on Mom. I just wish I had known about you two sooner. Had time to get used to the idea. To get to know you better. I don't even know your last name.” She capped her lip balm and tossed it in her purse.