Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
Max's heart went tight.
Then it loosened.
They didn't hate him. They didn't blame him. They knew about Pete's choices and even with that, Mary and Ray couldn't protect him 24/7.
“There is no forgiveness needed.” Mary's firm tone highlighted her words. “We loved you then, we love you now, and we knew how badly Pete's death affected you. But never in my wildest dreams did I realize you lugged this guilt around. Guilt like this isn't of God, Max. God loves. He sees. He knows. He forgives. I don't want you to spend one more minute blaming yourself. Heaven knows such a thing never crossed our minds.”
Ray swiped a hand to his eyes.
Mary made no pretense of not crying. She grabbed Max in an embrace that felt good, and long overdue...
“Thank you.”
He stood. Mary and Ray stood also, and instead of reaching for his hand, Pete's dad pulled him into a big, long hug. “You're a good man, Max. And I'm proud to know you. And to work with you. And if you settle down here now that you're leaving the service, there will always be a place at our table for you. I hope you know that.”
He did.
Now.
He returned the hug, grabbed his gloves and moved toward the door. Almost there, he turned. “I'm sorry for coming so late. I just had to get over here. See you. Talk to you.”
“I'm glad you did.” Ray clapped a hand to Max's shoulder. “Very glad. I wish we'd had this conversation ten years ago. But at least we've had it now.”
“Yes.”
A kitchen buzzer alerted Mary to Thanksgiving chores. She turned, surprised. “I've got pies in the oven. Good thing I set that timer, because I forgot all about them!”
Max gave her one last hug. She patted his face and hurried to the broad kitchen overlooking the lakefront.
Ray opened the door. “Thank you, Max. For being Pete's friend all those years, for being a good soldier, for being on hand now that Charlie needs you. I'm proud of you, son.”
He extended a hand to Max.
Max took it, and when Ray Sawyer shook his hand, weight tumbled from Max's shoulders.
They didn't hate him.
They knew Pete was in trouble, and even with their diligence, Pete managed to get hold of alcohol and get drunk.
Foolishness of youth.
Ray's words made sense to Max, now that he was older. He couldn't see that clearly as a teen. All he'd known was the guilt of walking out on his friend, leaving him there with Amy and the bottle.
He paused at the car, looking out over the lake. Clouds had nipped the earlier starlight, but merry lights circled the expanse of water, and the brilliance of the decked-out village called to him.
His father had started this beautiful tradition years ago. He'd spearheaded the committee, the planning and then the implementation, all to bring the joy of Christmas and the light of Christ to people.
Max drew a deep breath, drinking in the beauty of reflected light, and knowing, at long last, he was exactly where he needed to be. Home, in Kirkwood Lake.
He climbed into the driver's seat, backed out of the Sawyer driveway and aimed for the eastern shore. He'd spend tomorrow with his family, surrounded by Campbells and Campbell friends, sharing the first family-themed holiday he'd allowed himself in over ten years.
And he'd have Tina there, by his side, laughing. Talking.
Kissing?
The thought of that made him smile.
He shouldn't feel this way after so short a time. His brain knew that, but his heart wasn't listening. His heart thought being with Tina Martinelli was the best thing that ever happened to him, and now...if he could just get her to hang around a while...he might be able to convince her heart of the very same thing.
And he had every intention of doing just that.
His burner phone buzzed as he pulled the car into his parents' driveway. He walked into the house and read the message.
Casting Crowns concert in Erie phenomenal! Faves: Set me Free and East to West. Wish you were here!
His heart sank. He knew the drill: the coded message meant he'd be heading out of the country to go free someone. A hostage? A prisoner? Man, woman, child? No way of knowing until he was briefed. He understood time was crucial and he couldn't stop by the village and make explanations to Tina about why he was about to disappear into the night.
Accepting orders had been easier when he was tucked in the military net of Fort Bragg. A summons like this was expected there. Now?
He had to go. He knew that. But a part of him ached to stay right there in Kirkwood Lake, enjoying Thanksgiving with his family and Tina.
Maybe next year.
He swallowed a sigh and texted back:
Love that album, especially While You Were Sleeping.
That meant he'd be on the red-eye as expected. He scribbled a note to his mother, and walked back out the door.
He longed to stay and be part of the festivities, to take his place at the table with everyone else. Share this first beautiful holiday with Tina, thanking God for so many blessings. His time with his father, his time with Tina.
He'd told her that Thanksgiving was tough on soldiers. He'd meant it. Leaving his childhood home right now was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he had no choice. Not yet, anyway.
They'd booked him a flight out of Erie. With clear roads he had just enough time to get there and board.
He got back in the car, headed south and grabbed I-86.
And just like that, he was gone.
Chapter Ten
G
iddy anticipation lightened Tina's step as she set three pies into the backseat of her car at noon on Thanksgiving. She'd baked fourteen pies in the restaurant kitchen, enough to get them through three busy days of customers. With the success of the park light display in full swing, the
Kirkwood Lady
decked out in brilliant splendor for her cruises around the lake and the influx of customers in the lighted village each evening, preparation was key. Helping Laura made her feel better, like the happy ending to a made-for-TV Christmas movie, where everything comes out all right in the end.
She carried two pies into the Campbell house, ready to celebrate a grand if subdued Thanksgiving with all the Campbell kids in town for the first time in several years. Charlie's illness made for a command performance, but at least they were all here.
She stepped into the kitchen and was immediately grabbed by Max's younger sister, Addie. “It's Thanksgiving for certain. Tina's here and we've got pie!”
“A bunch of them.” Tina handed the first pie to Addie, the second one to Cass, Max's other sister, and gave each Campbell daughter a quick half hug. “Can you guys set these on the small sideboard, please? I've got to go grab the caramel Dutch apple from the car.”
“I say we take a detour to the fork drawer, grab what we need and follow the sage advice of âLife's short. Eat dessert first,'” joked Cass.
“I'm in.” Addie pulled the pecan/sweet potato pie closer and breathed deep. “Reason enough right here to move back to Kirkwood and have Tina as a roomie. As long as you cook and bake like this we'd be the perfect match, because none of my mother's cooking skills rubbed off on me.”
“I had a special request to make that one again.” Tina waved toward the pie in Addie's hands as she moved back down the side stairs. “Seth talked it up, and I promised Max he could try it.”
“But Max isn't here.”
Tina stopped on the short stairway and turned. She shifted her attention from Addie to Cass and back again. “Not here?”
Cass shrugged Max's absence off, which meant Tina was doing a great job of hiding her disappointment. “He got called back.”
“Called back?” That couldn't be right. Why would Max get called back into service? He was done, wasn't he? Or at least on leave because of his father's deteriorating condition until his official time was over.
“That's what we're assuming, anyway.” Addie's expression said she wasn't all too sure of anything. “Mom said he left a note saying he'd get back as soon as he could and not to worry.”
“Which means we probably should worry,” added Cass, but then she made a face that said worry and Max went hand in hand. “But this is Max we're talking about, and he always goes his own way.”
“And comes out of it with barely a scratch,” Addie said as she moved toward the dining room. “Nice trick.”
“Tina!” Jenny bustled into the great-smelling kitchen as the girls moved off to the dining room. “You brought the most delicious pies, thank you! Come in, dear, let me take your coat.”
Tina hesitated, breathed deep and tried to smile. “I've got to go grab the apple pie. I'll be right back.”
“Wonderful,” Jenny went on. “I'd really hoped to have everyone here for the first time in years, but Max's call-up changed things. So now my hope is we can regather with all the family at Christmas as long as Max is done saving the world.”
Saving the world.
Doing his job.
Tina swallowed the lump of disappointment that had taken up residence in her throat.
Max was gone. Without a word. Without a mention. Just...
Gone.
I'm here to stay, home for good
, he'd told her.
Not true, obviously.
He'd lied.
Like so many others in the past, people who'd made promises they hadn't kept. Max had pulled out all the stops to tip her heart in silly, gleeful directions, then left.
She walked to the car feeling partially shell-shocked and habitually stupid. She'd suspected from the beginning, hadn't she? She'd held back from the get-go because she knew Max, and she should be experienced enough to avoid bad-ending entanglements.
She'd messed up, and she didn't want to go back inside and pretend everything was all right. She didn't want to put her game face on and go through a family-filled afternoon that reminded her of how lame her family relationships were. She wanted to jump into the car and drive hard and fastâwith the pie, of courseâgrab a fork and eat the whole thing with a pint of ice cream and watch stupid, lame happily-ever-after movies while she cried.
Except that would make Charlie and Jenny sad.
She didn't do any such thing, because inside the quaint lakeside Colonial was a family who loved her, minus one. A family celebrating what might be their last Thanksgiving with Charlie. A family grounded in faith and love. No matter that Max had done his typical “here today, gone tomorrow” vanishing act while grabbing her heart in his short stint home.
Her fault.
She'd watched him do the same thing from a distance as a teen. She'd longed from afar then, but should have learned her lesson over the years.
For whatever reason, choice, destiny, fate or Providence, the movie-style happily-ever-after eluded her in matters of the heart.
Serving coffee was different, Tina realized as she strode back toward the house, determined to put on a good front.
With coffee, she knew the rules of a good brew, inside out and backward, the friendliness of being the neighborhood barista without getting too close.
Baking? Her mother's artistry in the kitchen bred true. Tina loved creating, finessing and developing great recipes, the kind that make people smile.
Family?
A chasm in her heart tore open again, a rent that should have healed long ago, as she approached the side door.
Family eluded her. Romance crashed and burned around her. She'd thought...
No, she'd hopedâ
It would be different with Max. She'd fallen for him hard, and that was as much his fault as hers, because he'd led her on deliberately.
She drew a breath, blinked back tears, planted a smile on her face and walked back inside, determined. Today was Charlie's day. A Campbell holiday, through and through.
And she'd promised to help them through the busy holiday season, but come January?
Brockport or Spencerport, here I come.
* * *
Mrs. Thurgood hurried into the hardware store late the following week. “Tina, I had to see you! I've just gotten the lease for the apartment under yours, and I'm so excited to be your new neighbor!”
Tina couldn't deflate the joy on the elderly woman's face by saying she'd be leaving soon. Happiness shone in the widow's eyes, her smile, the very way she walked. She gave Mrs. Thurgood a big hug, then took a step back. “Now, what about moving day? Do you need help, because there are a bunch of us who would be glad to step in. Zach and Luke both have trucks, and Seth's SUV would hold a lot of stuff.”
“That's the nice thing,” the old woman explained. “The furniture is staying, and I don't think we need a truck for my clothes. I'm not bringing the bulk of my stuff with me. I figure next summer I'll head back to my place and go through everything, clearing things out, donating this, tossing that. It's easier to do when the weather's nice,” she added, as if the reason she'd let things pile up was weather-related.
“Sounds good.” Tina patted her hand, wishing things could be different, knowing it was impossible. “And I'm happy to come help.”
“You're busy enough.” Mrs. Thurgood leafed through a few paint chip cards, her gaze sharp. “Mrs. Benson said I should pick out new paint for the living room. If I drop it off at the apartment, her son will paint the walls on his day off and we're good to go.”
“Take them out on the step,” Tina advised, pointing toward the front door. “The color is more true in natural light. But it's cold out there, so don't take too long to decide.”
“I will! That's a right good idea, Tina Marie!” Mrs. Thurgood hurried outside as Sherrie came through the back door, holding a magazine high.
“This book is filled with great nursery ideas.”
“Awesome.” Tina turned a fake but bright smile her way.
Sherrie looked close, then moved in and looked closer yet. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing.” Chin down, Tina accepted a set of wrenches from a customer and ran them through the scanner. “That will be $22.47, please.”
“Nothing?” Sherrie made a face, waited until the customer had checked out, then stepped in front of Tina. “What do you mean nothing? Of course there's something wrong, I can always tell, that's why you can't possibly leave because we've got this, this...” She waved her hand back and forth between them. “Connection thing. And it's not right to mess with stuff like that, Tina.”
“We do have a thing,” Tina admitted, but then she made a face at Sherrie. “And I'm still leaving. I have to, Sher.” She drew a deep breath and lifted her shoulders. “But not for a few weeks and we'll get the nursery done first.”
Sherrie stared at her, then glanced around the hardware store. She paused, listened, then sighed. “Max is gone.”
“I don't want to talk about this.”
“When did he leave? And why?”
“He left on Thanksgiving, and I have no idea why. End of conversation,” she warned as Mrs. Thurgood bustled back through the front door.
“It is downright cold out there!” Mrs. Thurgood plunked the paint chips down and pointed. “Vanilla Latte Romance, right there. I think that would be lovely in a living room, don't you, Tina?”
Right now the word
romance
was enough to put Tina over the edge, so she moved to the paint mixer and pried open the can of pastel tint base.
“Of course, it's kind of plain, but I can spruce it up with some pictures, don't you think?”
“Pictures make the room,” Sherrie agreed. She looked hard at Tina, but no way was Tina about to bare her soul in front of Mrs. Thurgood, or anyone else for that matter.
“Just one gallon, Mrs. Thurgood?”
“That's what the landlord said, so I'm following directions.”
She smiled as she said the words, and when Tina walked the can of paint out to Mrs. Thurgood's car, a middle-aged woman carrying a bag from the local deli raised her brows in approval. “Aunt Elsie, let me put this back here.” The woman took the can of paint from Tina and tucked it into the trunk. “We can drop it off at the apartment. You should be ready to move in within a week.” She turned toward Tina. “I'm Elsie's niece, Rachel. She told me she needed to make some changes and I came to town to help her.”
“Oh, goodie!” Mrs. Thurgood said the words with false enthusiasm, as if none of this was her doing, and yet...she had little choice but to do it.
Tina understood that too well, and was just as annoyed by the sudden turn-around in her own life.
Which is understandable at her age
,
her conscience berated.
At yours? Ridiculous.
“It's nice to meet you.” Tina stretched out a quick hand to Mrs. Thurgood's niece. “And thanks for coming to town to help Mrs. T. She's a favorite around here.”
“Family's important,” Rachel replied. She tucked the grocery sack into the trunk and helped her aunt into the front seat. “Have a nice Christmas if I don't run into you again.”
“You, too.” Tina said the words, but the thought of nice Christmas seemed anathema, and that emotion shamed her. She had a lot to be grateful for, she knew that.
But she'd gotten all tied up and emotional over Max, and having him disappear from her life?
It hurt.
“We need a painting date.” Sherrie greeted her as she came through the door, clearly determined.
“Right after Christmas,” Tina promised. “Everything slows down that week, even though the park lights are still going then. The store will be quieter and I can sneak away for a day.”
“Excellent!” Sherrie hugged her and left.
She placed a call to the Realtor once Sherrie had gone home. “Myra, it's Tina. I think I'd like to take a ride to see those Brockport and Spencerport locations fairly soon, but I don't think I can do it before Christmas. We're shorthanded here at the hardware store, andâ”
“No worries!” Myra's voice sounded like so many others, alive with Christmas cheer.
Blech.
“December is pretty much wasted when it comes to doing deals,” Myra explained, “so you go ahead and have a merry Christmasâ”
Tina had to hold herself back from explaining the unlikelihood of that possibility.
“And we'll see them in January. That way the hardware store is quieter and I'll have time to make the drive with you.”
“You don't think the locations might rent or sell by then?”
Myra's calm offered reassurance. “Well, they could, but it's unlikely. And the way I see it is if it's meant to be, it will be.”
“Que sera, sera.”
“I love that old movie!” Myra's voice pitched up. “How did you hear about that at your age? It's ancient by today's standards.”
“It was a favorite of my mother's,” Tina replied. Saying the words made her remember her mother playing the classic movie, loving the suspense of the story, and the melodious tones as Doris Day sang the old lyrics. “She used it as my lullaby when I was little.”
“I did the same thing,” declared Myra. “The babies loved it, such a sweet song. But most don't know it now.”
“I do.”
“Call me after Christmas,” Myra reiterated. “We'll plan a day in early January, unless things change between now and then.”
“They won't. I can guarantee that.” Tina said the words with all the finality they deserved.