Return to Lone Oak (Harlequin Heartwarming) (3 page)

CHAPTER TWO

N
OAH
PAUSED
WITH
the lawn mower running and pulled off his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Humidity was for the birds. He’d spent months without modern conveniences in the blistering heat of Africa, and he’d been fine. Three weeks back in the Midwest and he found that he wanted to weep like a baby any time he was out in the sun too long. What was wrong with him? He’d grown up mowing this gargantuan piece of land. He knew, though, that he wasn’t the same as he used to be. Never would be again. While the damage from his time abroad was supposedly all psychological, he recognized a physical difference, as well. Or maybe he was just getting old. He
felt
old. Exhausted. Even though he was only thirty-six.

No matter how wimpy he’d become, though, he’d much prefer taking care of this task to letting his dad do it. Apparently, his old man had been handling all the lawn care by himself. Noah couldn’t figure out what was going through the older man’s head to make him think that was okay. He was almost retirement age and he had enough money to hire a full-time gardener if he wanted to. All Noah wanted was for him to stop the hardcore stuff, like lawn mowing. He could dig in the dirt to his heart’s content. Even buying a riding mower would make more sense than pushing one over this huge lawn.

Noah winged his wet shirt onto the grass he’d already mowed and started down a new row when his mom caught his eye, waving like a possessed woman from the back door.

Not entirely upset at having to stop and take a break, he turned off the mower and strode toward the house.

“Miss me already?”

“Noah, the heat index is one hundred and four degrees. You’re a doctor, for goodness’ sake. You know it’s not good to be out working in this weather.”

“Want a hug?” He went toward her with his arms outspread, threatening to soak her in sweat.

She glared at him over the rims of her glasses as they walked inside.

“Speaking of working in the heat, once I move out we need to hire a lawn-care service for you and Dad.”

“Have fun telling him that,” she said. “He’s the original lawn warrior. And if you even hint that he can’t handle it anymore...” She shook her head sympathetically, as if he’d be a goner. “Lemonade’s on the table. Sit down and have a drink.”

“Dad’s getting too old to mow.” He looked for the pitcher. “Is it fresh squeezed?”

“Have you ever known me to buy that frozen garbage in a can?”

“No, ma’am,” he said with the most sober face he could muster. To his mom, lemonade was serious business. It always had been.

“Well, then.”

Noah washed his hands at the sink and bent over to splash cold water on his face.

“You should mow first thing in the morning, before it gets so hot. Not in the heat of the day after a full eight hours at work.”

“I have a job first thing in the morning.”

“The grass will wait till the weekend.”

“It’ll be a foot tall by the weekend. Mom, I’m young. Doing fine. I need the exercise.” He sat at the kitchen table and poured lemonade from the old-fashioned pitcher into a tall glass. The familiarity of all this made him think, once again, how good it was to be back home.

“You need to relax. Take some time off. Stop working so hard, Noah.”

“Work is good for the soul.”

Martha Fletcher lowered herself to the simple oak chair next to him, the one she’d been sitting in for meals for as long as Noah could remember.

He couldn’t keep himself from noticing yet again how much his parents had aged during the time he’d been away. Their wrinkles were deeper, their movements were slower, even if they didn’t acknowledge it themselves. Noah shuddered at the thought of losing either one of them and hated the idea of them being old, even if he and his father had banged heads repeatedly as they tried to work together for the first time. He was still suffering from the loss that had crushed him less than a year before and he couldn’t weather another one.

Unfortunately, his concern was mirrored in his mother’s face. She gazed at him with worried hazel eyes. She hadn’t changed the style of her straight bobbed hair for probably twenty years, but the color now was closer to white than gray. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, too. And she became bonier rather than rounder as the years passed.

Noah should be used to the look she gave him. She’d acted overly worried ever since he’d returned three weeks before. He’d tried to ignore it, hoping she would see that he was fine.

“Work might be good for the soul, but I’m wondering just where your soul is,” she said after a thoughtful pause. “Where your heart is. It doesn’t seem to be in
anything
, and that concerns me.”

“Mom, please don’t. You have to stop worrying about me.” The irony of his own distress for her and his dad didn’t escape him. But he supposed he was just at that stage in his life. What did they call it? The sandwich generation. Except he didn’t have a wife and kids.

“You’ve always been the most passionate, involved person I know,” she continued. “I love that about you, even though I used to be scared to death you’d get yourself in trouble caring so much.”

“I’m fine. Tired and hot, but fine.”

“If you’re fine, then I’m a Hollywood actress.”

Noah couldn’t help it. He chuckled.

“Exactly.” His mom remained unsmiling. “I wish you’d talk about what happened when you were away.”

He pushed back his chair and stood, wiping all signs of amusement from his face. “I need to get back to work.”

She rose, as well. “Come on, Noah. I’m your mother, not the bad guy. Not some psychiatrist who wants to analyze you. Did it ever occur to you that talking about it might help?”

He looked at her for several seconds without really seeing her, terrible memories hammering at him, images of a dying woman etched into his mind. His throat seemed to swell shut and the familiar pain at the base of his neck edged into his consciousness. “No. It didn’t. And no, it wouldn’t.”

It would only make her worry more, and what Noah wanted to do was ease his mother’s mind, not fill it with horror.

Her shoulders sank and she stepped out of his path, looking defeated. He really hated making her feel that way.

He paused next to her and leaned down to meet her gaze. “You’re prettier than any of the Hollywood actresses I’ve seen.”

“You’re full of it, Noah. Go mow the lawn. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

He frowned as he headed back out into the relief of the choking heat. At least the humidity didn’t induce guilt or the paralyzing fear of losing someone he loved. Again.

* * *

I
T
WAS
AFTER
ELEVEN
when Katie woke up. That was late enough to embarrass even her, but she’d crashed hard the night before and hadn’t set an alarm. She changed into shorts and a T-shirt and pulled her hair back, promising herself a shower just as soon as she’d made an appearance and gotten some breakfast.

The main floor was deserted, but she heard voices coming from the basement. After filling a bowl with Rice Chex—she really needed to hit the grocery store for some decent sugar-filled breakfast alternatives—she decided to see what kind of party was going on down there.

She clomped down the wooden plank stairs all the way to the unfinished basement. The familiar smell of dust and mustiness took Katie back more than a decade to when she and her sisters had played down here. The closet under the stairs had been the headquarters for their members-only club and Savannah and Lindsey had been typical tyrannical copresidents. When Katie had finally gotten tired of being the club gofer, she’d formed her own club and had convinced her mom to become the only other member.

Katie smiled at the memory, then it struck her again that moments like this were on their way out of her life. Sure, she would still have those memories, if she strained her brain. But just walking around this house brought back so many good times that she knew she’d never think of otherwise.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Hale—
Claudia
—said from behind a pile of boxes. “I hope you slept well. Your dad was going to wake you before he went to work, but I figured you needed the rest if you were still asleep.”

“Morning,” Katie said, straining to be friendly. “Thanks. I guess I was tired. I always sleep extra well here.”

“About time Sleeping Beauty showed up to help.” Savannah emerged from behind another tower of boxes and headed toward Katie, arms outstretched.

“About time you came by to say hello.” Katie smiled and wrinkled her nose as they hugged. “Thanks for the dust bath.”

The middle Salinger sister hadn’t changed much in the months since Katie had last been home for a visit. Her auburn hair was pulled up sloppily and her eyes showed fatigue. Part of being a mother to two kids, Katie guessed. The amount of dust on Savannah’s black yoga pants and old Hard Rock Cafe T-shirt made Katie’s nose itch.

“The kids have been dying to see you, but we spent a good chunk of the day yesterday at a museum in Topeka with some of Logan’s friends.”

“Where are the kids?” Katie asked, looking around. She could hear their voices, but there were so many places to hide in the basement that she couldn’t even tell which direction the noise was coming from.

“They’re in the other room, looking for the boxes of toys that Mom packed away.”

“Oh, I have dibs on my G.I. Joe stuff!” Katie headed into the back room of the basement, groaning as she imagined going through all the boxes in order to prepare for the move.

“Hey, guys,” she called out to the kids, who were engrossed in the contents of a plastic storage bin.

Her niece and nephew ran to her and attacked her with fierce hugs, making her laugh.

“I heard you’re searching for toys,” Katie said.

“Grandma said there might be LEGOs!” Logan hopped back to where they’d been rummaging through a large box. The adorable round-cheeked boy rarely just walked anywhere.

Katie paused momentarily at Logan’s use of
Grandma,
referring to Claudia. Yet another thing she needed to get used to if she was going to hang around here for a while. Up till now, she’d mostly been able to avoid the impact of her dad’s marriage. She shook her head to bury her thoughts.

“From what I remember, you already have enough LEGOs to build a small house,” she teased.

“I want to build a big house!”

Katie laughed and went over to hug him again. “How’s it going, Allie Cat?”

“Okay.” Her lanky niece smiled, her brown eyes twinkling.

“You looking for LEGOs, too?” Katie asked, motioning her closer with her good arm. Allie was on the shy side, but irresistible with her curly brown hair pulled into a ponytail and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks.

“No. Just looking for anything that’s neat.”

“It’s like a treasure hunt, isn’t it?”

Katie turned around and began scavenging, one-armed, through the boxes behind Logan, not sure what to expect. Her mom had had a reputation for saving
everything
. Judging by the number of boxes, bins and bags filling most of the basement, Katie doubted anything had been touched since long before her mother’s death.

She pried open the cardboard flaps on the top box, stood on her toes and looked in. The first thing she saw brought a nostalgic smile to her face and she pulled it out. She removed a clear plastic bag, inside which she could see her beloved stuffed polar bear, clean and safe from harm. She opened the bag and took him out.

“Aww,” Allie said. “Can I see him?”

Katie hugged the bear briefly and then handed him to Allie, who’d sidled up next to her. “His name is Ozzie. He’s a very important bear.”

Allie cuddled him in her arms.

“He’d be happy to have someone love him again. Think you’re up for the job?”

“Yes!”

Katie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen such a big smile on her niece’s face. “Keep him safe for me, will you?”

“I’m gonna show my mom.” Allie walked off, cooing to the bear and explaining in a soft voice that he was going to a new home.

“I want something, too,” Logan said.

“Logan, my friend, judging by the number of boxes down here, I have a feeling we could fill your entire bedroom with somethings.”

Katie rose onto her toes again, to see what else was in the carton she’d opened. A couple of other less-cherished stuffed animals were on top, similarly packaged. She took out a black Lab puppy and showed it to Logan. “Want to adopt a dog?”

“Sure! Does he have a name?”

Katie thought for a minute, trying to recall. “Willowby.”

Logan studied the dog. “Can I give it a new name?”

“Yep. But it might take him a while to learn to answer.”

He glanced up at her, confused. Finally, he seemed to grasp that she was kidding and giggled.

Katie returned her attention to the box. Removing a tattered stuffed rabbit, she could better see the remaining contents: a collection of colored headbands, a photo album, a ballerina music box, an oversize accordion file full of schoolwork, a small jeweler’s box.

She pulled out the box, vague memories flickering at the edges of her awareness. She opened it and gasped, then rubbed her loosely fisted hand along her bottom lip, back and forth.

“What’s that?” Logan asked, peeking around from behind.

“A necklace. My mom gave it to me.”

When had it been? Her tenth birthday, she thought. The silver heart had a deep purple amethyst set into its right side, and it dropped from a delicate chain. Katie hadn’t worn it more than two or three times, she recalled, declaring it too girlie.

“It’s pretty,” Logan said, his voice full of innocent reverence. Then he skipped away. “Gonna show my mom my new dog.”

Katie hardly heard him, deeply engrossed in memories as she was. Had she hurt her mother’s feelings by refusing to wear the necklace? Pain constricted Katie’s chest and moisture filled her eyes, the guilt she’d been exempt from years ago hitting her now. Taking out the necklace and tossing the tiny box back inside the carton, she unclasped the chain and pushed her hair to one side so she could put it on. She struggled, but finally felt the slight weight of the charm settle on her breast bone.