Read Picking Up the Pieces Online
Authors: Denise Grover Swank
A man stood next to the brick fireplace, holding a stack of papers. He was talking to an older woman who stood next to him. “The report’s not bad,” he said. “Just a bunch of little things you’d expect to find in a house this age. But you got it for a steal, so I’m not sure how many of the repairs the owners will agree to make. You’ll probably have to arrange to fix them on your own. Perhaps your son?”
A woman laughed. “My son is capable of many things, but home repair doesn’t fall on that list.”
The man turned and gave me a quizzical look.
I flashed him a smile. “I was told to meet my Realtor here at eleven, but it looks like this house already has an offer on it. Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re the new sheriff deputy, aren’t you?” he asked, moving a few steps closer. “Glad to have you in town. My name’s Artie Mussels.” He looked back over his shoulder. “And this is the assistant D.A.’s mother, Maeve Deveraux.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut, only the sensation was ten times worse than when this woman’s son had punched me the night before.
She smiled, the expression lighting up her face, and I was blown away by how much she resembled Savannah. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I suspect you might end up working with my son.”
I nodded, feeling like I was about to puke. “Yes, ma’am. We already have worked together.”
“Oh?” she asked. “You know Mason?”
I stood in the threshold, seriously contemplating turning around and getting the hell out of there, but it was time to face up to my past—every last bit of it—and this seemed like a monumental place to start. I took several hesitant steps closer to her. “Yes, ma’am. I do.” I swallowed. “And I knew your daughter. Savannah.”
Confusion wrinkled her forehead. “How…”
“Mrs. Deveraux…I used to live in Little Rock. My name’s Joe Simmons.”
Her eyes flew open and she took a step backward.
“Maeve? Are you okay?” Artie asked as he rushed forward to grab her elbow.
I moved toward her out of instinct and started to reach for her, then pulled back, unsure if she wanted the man responsible for her daughter’s death to touch her.
She took a breath and patted the Realtor’s hand. “Thank you, Artie. I’m just a little surprised. It’s such a small world. Joe dated my daughter.”
“Oh.”
“Artie, could you give us a moment?” I asked. “Mrs. Deveraux and I need to catch up on a few things.”
He glanced at Savannah’s mother; she nodded and gave him a gentle smile.
“I’ll just be outside making a few calls,” he said, heading for the door.
“And if my agent shows up,” I called after him, “can you tell her I’ll be out in a moment?”
“Sure thing,” Artie mumbled, already looking at his phone.
“Would you like to sit?” I asked, motioning toward the kitchen table in the dining room. “It might make this easier. For both of us.”
She nodded and pulled out a chair. I resisted the urge to help her with it—old habits die hard—but I was already pressing my luck. I sat on the opposite side from her, folding my hands on the table.
We sat in silence for several seconds before I cleared my throat. “First of all…I’d like to say how profoundly sorry I am.” My voice broke and I blinked to ease the burning in my eyes. “I’m sure you hate me, and I understand why you would.”
Her chin quivered and she wiped her fingertips under her right eye. “I don’t hate you, Joe.”
I studied her, wondering if she was telling the truth. “How can you not hate me? Your daughter died because of me.”
“She died because some man with a mental illness became fixated on her and stabbed her to death.” Her voice broke and she bit her upper lip. “Everyone is so eager to take the blame for her death—you, Mason, the police—I wish you all would just let it go and blame the person who is truly responsible. Michael Cartwright. Her murderer.”
Let it go? I’d soaked myself in the guilt of my actions for months. It was part of who I was now. I wasn’t sure I was capable of letting it go.
She forced a smile through her tears. “No, I don’t hate you, Joe. It’s the truth, even if you find it hard to believe. I should have reached out to you after Savannah’s death, but…I didn’t. I wanted to respect your privacy. I realize now that it was wrong.”
My eyes widened in shock. “Why would you have reached out to
me?
It should have been the other way around, but I was a coward. I couldn’t even go to her funeral.”
She studied me for a moment. “But you
were
there.”
I froze.
“You weren’t at the gravesite—which was probably a good thing because Mason might have strangled you—but I saw you a ways away, behind a tree. Watching. I knew it was you.” She wiped her cheek again. “And I said a prayer for you.”
“
Me?
”
She chuckled. “Yes, you. I prayed that you would find the peace and strength to move forward from this tragedy.” She paused. “Have you, Joe?”
My shoulders shook as I tried to hold back tears. “I thought I had. And then I lost her.” I stared into Mrs. Deveraux’s eyes. “To your son.”
She nodded. “Rose.”
“I love her. It doesn’t feel right telling you that given the circumstances, but I do.”
“I know the three of you are caught in quite a dilemma.” She looked down at the table and rubbed her thumb over a scratch in the wood. “I’d like to give you a piece of advice, Joe. Take it or leave it, considering the source.”
“Okay…”
She looked up at me, her soft eyes holding mine. “You thought you had found your peace and strength in Rose. And I can see why you’re so taken with her. But I think you need to find your peace and strength in
yourself
. If you find it in someone else, that person will be destined to disappoint you and let you down. But if you find it in yourself, you will be a richer person, and your relationships will be richer for it.”
“You’re just telling me that because she’s with Mason.”
Her eyes hardened slightly. “I gave Mason that same piece of advice this past summer.” She stood. “Trust me, Joe. I learned it the hard way when my husband died. You want the woman you love to complement you, not be the air you breathe. Not a day goes by without me wishing I’d given Savannah that same advice.”
She started for the door.
“If I’d known about the b—” I stopped, realizing what I was about to say.
She froze and turned to face me. “The baby?”
I stood and held onto the back of the chair. “You know?”
“Of course I know,” she sighed. “Mason thinks he’s protecting me by not telling me what he found out in the autopsy report, but of course I know. I’m Savannah’s mother.
She
told me.”
“Why didn’t she tell
me?
”
“Because she finally realized that she couldn’t make you love her. She couldn’t make you want to be with her. She loved you, but she wanted you to be with her because it was your choice. Not because you felt it was your duty.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be…that for her.”
“So was she.” Mrs. Deveraux walked out the front door.
I stood next to the chair, trying to deal with what had just happened. Too many blows were hitting me all at once.
I heard voices outside the door. I realized I needed to pull myself together and leave, but then the door opened and Rose stood in the threshold.
“Joe?” She sounded worried as she crossed the room. When she reached me, she pulled me close for a hug. “Are you okay?”
For one brief moment, I thought she had chosen me. The disappointment that followed was suffocating. “Yeah,” I choked out.
“Maeve told me about your conversation—not the details—just that you suggested you two should talk.” She looked up at me. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m not sure I’m worthy of your pride. Nothing I can do now will ever change the past.”
“But it can change your future.”
“Savannah doesn’t have a future.” Our baby didn’t have a future either. I held back a sob.
“If she loved you, and I’m certain she did, she would want you to have a happy future.”
I didn’t answer, fighting back my tears.
Rose grabbed my arm, and the expression she always got when she was really determined about something washed over her face. I had to stop myself from kissing her.
“But if you want to make Savannah proud of you, you need stop going back to Hilary every time something bad happens. She’s like a cancer, Joe, and she’s slowly killing you, bit by bit.”
“I know. But she’s pregnant. With my baby.”
“You’re sure it’s yours?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll be the best father that baby could ever hope for, because with her as mother, that baby’s gonna need you. But not together with Hilary. Separate.”
“I don’t know if I can do this alone.”
Her shoulders lifted. “You won’t be alone. You’ll have plenty of friends around you to help. Especially if you stay in Fenton County.”
“And what about you?”
Her face softened. “I’ll always be your friend, Joe. If you’ll let me.”
I nodded.
“We’ll discuss the business next week.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I’m telling you right now—Bruce Wayne is going to be my partner too so you best get over it real quick or your tenure with the Gardner Sisters Nursery is gonna be the shortest tenure in history.”
I chuckled. God, she was a spitfire. “I can live with that.”
“Okay.” She smiled and gave an involuntary shake. “Then this might actually work out after all.”
I watched her walk out the door and pulled out my phone. “Deveraux? What you said about going after my father…I’m in.”
***
Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans
November 4, 2014
Other Books by Denise Grover Swank:
Rose Gardner Mysteries
(Humorous Southern mysteries)
TWENTY-EIGHT AND A HALF WISHES
TWENTY-NINE AND A HALF REASONS
FALLING TO PIECES
(novella)
THIRTY-TWO AND A HALF COMPLICATIONS
PICKING UP THE PIECES
(novella)
THIRTY-THREE AND A HALF SHENANIGANS
Chosen Series
(Paranormal thriller/Urban fantasy)
On the Otherside Series
(Young adult science fiction/romance)
The Curse Keepers
(Adult urban fantasy)
New Adult Contemporary Romance
About the Author
Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
You can find out more about Denise and her other books at:
or email her at
[email protected]
Table of Contents
Table of Contents