“Have you said hello to Miss Ellie yet?” her dad asked her a minute later.
“No, but we’ll go now while she doesn’t have a big crowd.” Part of attending any get-together including Miss Ellie was making a point of finding her to say hello. Since she could no longer walk well, she was always seated in some pleasant spot where everyone could locate her, and when at
her
house, it was always in the picturesque white gazebo just a few steps away.
“Hello, Miss Ellie!” Tessa said loudly as she and Lucky approached the old gray-haired woman who was hard of hearing.
She smiled up at Tessa, the lines of her face deepening with the gesture. “Tessa Sheridan—how are you, dear?”
“Very well, thanks!” Then she turned to her date, who—it just dawned on her—she hoped wouldn’t scare the old lady to death. “This is my boyfriend, Lucky!” she yelled.
Yet to her surprise, Miss Ellie didn’t look the least bit daunted as she gave him a long, thorough looking over. “He could use a haircut, dear, but yes indeed, you
are
lucky with a fella like
that
for a boyfriend.”
Tessa and Lucky simply exchanged grins, and Lucky leaned down to say, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Tessa figured Lucky had probably met her as a child, too, but that likely neither one remembered.
Miss Ellie put a hand to her ear. “What’s that you say?”
“You kinda have to yell,” Tessa told him.
So Lucky yelled. “Nice to meet you! You have a real nice place!”
And then Miss Ellie actually blushed a little, glancing in Tessa’s direction to say, “You tell your boyfriend he’s got himself a real nice face, too.”
Tessa and Lucky both smiled, but then Tessa turned on her heel to go, since other people were waiting to say hello to Miss Ellie behind them now. That’s when the old woman said, “Why, look at that! You’ve got daisies painted on your ankle!”
Whoops. Tessa had worn one of her usual long, flowy skirts, but the tattoo had shown when she’d spun around to leave. And now her parents, along with everyone else in the vicinity, were staring at her feet.
“Uh, you want to lift that skirt up, Tessa?” Sue Ann asked, as wide-eyed as everyone else. Other than her friend Jenny’s husband, Mick Brody—who, like Lucky, had also come back after a long absence—people in Destiny didn’t
get
tattoos. Until now, anyway.
So, not one to avoid the inevitable these days, Tessa pulled up her skirt just slightly, revealing the daisy chain.
And obviously feeling all eyes upon them, and thinking ahead, Lucky spoke up to say, “Uh, for the record, I had nothing to do with this. I was just as surprised as the rest of you.”
L
ucky sat with Tessa at a tiny table in the garden, sort of glad it was too small for anyone to join them. All this had gone okay so far, but meeting so many people—some he remembered from when he was a kid and others he didn’t but probably should—was exhausting. Plus people stared a lot. At his ink. And his hair. But he’d expected that, and the important part, he supposed, was that Tessa’s parents had been cool to him, and so had her friends, and he knew that was important to her.
Now everyone was eating—some at the various tables scattered around the garden, and others stood with plates in their hands. As Lucky popped the top on a can of beer, he found himself surprised people in Destiny even
drank
beer,
and
feeling damn thankful for it.
“Who’s that?” Lucky asked Tessa a minute later, after shoveling a bite of potato salad into his mouth. He’d just spotted a familiar-looking face across the garden—but the person he was thinking of seemed about as likely to be at this party as
he
was. He pointed to the guy, who stood with a pretty girl in a pink dress, along with . . . was that Destiny’s old police chief, Walter Tolliver, who’d once given him a ticket when he was a teenager?
Tessa followed his eyes and smiled. “Oh, that’s my friend, Jenny—with her father, and her husband, Mick Brody.”
“Son of a bitch,” Lucky murmured, stunned. “That’s Mick Brody?”
She nodded, clearly surprised by his reaction. “Why?”
“We used to be friends—back in school.” In fact, Mick and his brother Wayne had been Lucky’s
only
real friends as a teen—because they’d been just as reckless and hell-raising as him. But he’d been closer to Mick than Wayne, and when Lucky had left town, Mick had been about the only thing he regretted leaving behind.
“Really? I’ll go get him.” And quick as that, she was on her feet and across the garden—and a minute later, his old buddy was crossing the grass toward him, squinting a little as he approached, probably in disbelief. His one-time friend looked good even if older, with broader shoulders, like him—and also like him, Mick sported some ink on each arm. Lucky stood to greet him.
“Lucky Romo,” Mick said with an amused grin. “I’ll be damned. When the hell did
you
get back in town? You’re the last person I expected to see at a Destiny picnic.”
Lucky couldn’t help chuckling. “Same here, dude. You couldn’t be any more shocked than me.”
They shook hands and gave each other a slap on the back—about as close as Lucky ever came to hugging a guy.
“I sure as hell didn’t think
you’d
still be here,” Lucky told Mick.
“Oh, I was gone for a good long while. But I ended up back by accident, I guess you could say—and then I married Jenny Tolliver.”
“The police chief’s daughter, huh?” Lucky said, still trying to wrap his head around it.
“Yep.”
“Damn, bro. That makes no sense at all,” Lucky said on a light laugh.
And Mick just chuckled along with him. “
You’re
tellin’
me
. Life can hold surprises when you least expect ’em, that’s for sure.”
Lucky understood
that
. “Yeah, mine has held . . . quite a few lately.”
Mick glanced toward Tessa, who now stood talking with Jenny and the police chief. “And I’m betting that’s one of ’em.”
Lucky just nodded, still not quite sure how he’d ended up with a girl as out of his league as Tessa.
Without warning then, Mick’s expression went a little darker, more serious. He dropped his voice. “Listen—after you left town, I, uh, heard you might’ve got into some bad shit. You okay, man?”
Tessa had told him there’d been rumors about Lucky being in a motorcycle gang. For now, he just kept it simple. “Yeah. Mostly. That’s all in the past. What about you?” Given that Mick hadn’t exactly been a poster child for good behavior, Lucky couldn’t imagine his life had been a walk in the park, either.
“Went through some stuff I’ll tell you about over a beer sometime,” Mick said, confirming it, “but came out good on the other side.”
Lucky cracked a grin. “And now you come to Destiny picnics with all the pretty people.” Only now, seeing so many Destiny residents together, did Lucky remember just how perfect and prim everyone in Destiny had always been: All the ladies wore spring-colored dresses, looking tidy in every way, and most of the men had paired golf shirts with khaki. No
wonder
Lucky had felt so out of place here as a teenager. Not to mention now, at this party.
Yet Mick just laughed and said, “Believe it or not, they’re not half bad if you give ’em a chance.”
“We’ll see if they give
me
a chance,” Lucky said—yet even as the words left him, he realized that if Mick could fit in here, so could he. He supposed he’d slowly been figuring that out for a while now—it had started with Tessa, and Mike’s fiancée had accepted him easily enough. And hell—today, despite how different he looked from the rest of them, no one here had been rude to him, unless he counted their stares, and he supposed he had to give people a chance to get used to his tattoos. The truth was, when he thought about it, the only person in this town who’d been a jerk to him was his own brother.
When the cell phone in Lucky’s pocket buzzed, he pulled it out to see a text from Johnny—confirming a pick-up time for later tonight, when Lucky was taking him to a movie, then bringing him back to his place while Tessa had a girls’ night out with Amy and Rachel. His relationship with his son was becoming a big part of his life, going smoother than he could have anticipated.
“Just a message from my kid,” Lucky explained.
And Mick said, “Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Lucky replied on a laugh, “I know. Shocked me, too. I just met him, actually.”
Mick arched one eyebrow. “Another one of those surprises?”
“You got it.”
Just then, Lucky looked up to see Mike and Rachel walk through the archway that led into the garden. “Christ,” he muttered. For some reason, he hadn’t even thought about his brother being here, but now he felt almost as if his thoughts about Mike a few minutes ago had been some kind of bad omen.
Mick glanced toward Mike, then back at Lucky. “Problem with your brother?”
“A big one,” Lucky bit off, angry all over again.
Mick looked a little introspective, and his voice went softer than at any point so far as he said, decisively, “Bud, you wanna get that worked out.”
“What you do mean?”
Then Mick told him his brother Wayne was dead.
“Aw, damn,” Lucky said, his stomach dropping at the news. He probably hadn’t thought about Wayne in years, but still, they’d once been friends. They’d ridden around town together; they’d picked up girls together—or at least they’d tried. He suddenly remembered a hot summer day when he, Mick, and Wayne had floated around the lake just across the road from them now in an old rowboat. “I’m sorry, man.”
But Mick just shook his head. “It’s okay. I mean . . . I’ve dealt with it. Cancer,” he added, making it so Lucky didn’t have to ask. “I’m just saying—you never know how long you have with people. You think it’s forever, and sometimes it’s not.”
Lucky shifted his gaze briefly toward Mike again, who now stood talking with Rachel, Tessa, and their other girlfriends. “It’s not me, man—it’s him.”
And almost as if he’d sensed them talking about him, that’s when Mike broke away from the girls and came striding briskly toward Lucky. “Jesus Christ, what now?” Lucky muttered to no one in particular.
Mike stopped not more than a foot away from him and looked Lucky in the eye. “We need to talk. Now.”
But Lucky was in no mood for this. “Look, man, I’m just trying to have a nice day with Tessa, okay? Don’t worry—I won’t be doing anything to corrupt the good citizens of Destiny, so how about you just leave me the hell alone?”
“No,” Mike said. “This can’t wait.”
And Lucky just sighed. Why the hell did his brother have it in for him? Was this about the Devil’s Assassins? Had he found out about them somehow? Ever since Tessa had told him about the rumors, he’d figured that must be part of Mike’s problem with him—and if Mike
did
find out the ugly truth about his past, there’d be hell to pay. And jail time to do. Shit. “Look, man, what the fuck do you want from me?”
“I wanted to do this in private,” Mike bit off through slightly clenched teeth. “But if you’re gonna make me do it in public, fine—have it your way.”
Jesus—was Mike about to accuse Lucky, right here, right now, of being a criminal? Or of God even knew what else? He braced himself, preparing for the worst.
And that’s when Mike said, “Lucky, I’m sorry.”
Lucky waited for the rest.
Lucky
,
I’m sorry
,
but I hate your guts. Lucky
,
I’m sorry
,
but you’re an asshole.
And when it didn’t come, he finally said, “Huh?”
Mike looked perturbed as usual, and Lucky realized his brother thought he was giving him a hard time. Then Mike replied quietly but pointedly. “I
said
I’m
sorry
. For everything.”
Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs.
Charlotte Brontë,
Jane Eyre
A
ppearing dumbfounded, Lucky said, “Uh, let’s take a walk.” And Mike followed his brother from the garden into the front yard, then across the narrow road to stand next to Blue Valley Lake in the sun.
Finally, Lucky stopped and turned to face him.
Mike didn’t speak at first, because this was hard. Damn hard. Maybe that part was about pride. He’d punched Lucky in the face the first time he’d seen him after more than fifteen years—that’s how right, how justified he’d felt in his opinion. And it wasn’t easy to admit now that he’d been wrong. At least in some ways.
But he took a deep breath and tried to be the good man Rachel was always assuring him he was. “Thing is, I been doing a lot of thinking,” he began.
“Yeah?” Lucky looked cautious, and Mike guessed he couldn’t blame him.
At moments, it still felt weird to peer into the face of this big, muscular guy covered in tattoos and realize it was the same person he’d wrestled with as a kid, the same person he’d stuck up for on the playground or taken care of after a skinned knee. But that’s where Mike had to go back to again—back to those days when Lucky had been innocent, as innocent as Mike had been then, too. “And I started remembering some stuff that happened. And I just wanted you to know that . . . I get it. Kind of.”
“You get what?”
“That maybe after Anna was gone, nobody paid you very much attention—like even when you did good things, like when you won that art award at school.”
Lucky just gave a brief nod, and Mike realized Lucky knew exactly what award he was talking about. It was maybe the only thing Lucky had ever won, one of the only times he’d ever excelled at school, and nobody had even acknowledged it at home. “I’m sorry if I was an asshole,” Mike told him.
Lucky’s expression didn’t change—his mouth painted a straight, unemotional line across his face. But Mike could see in his brother’s eyes the hurt that still resided there when he thought back, and shit—it made him mad at himself that he’d been too stubborn to really even look
in
to Lucky’s eyes until now.
“It wasn’t you,” Lucky said, though. “It was Mom and Dad. I was just jealous of you because they loved you more than me after Anna was gone.”
Mike started to say that was crazy—but he stopped, because now he understood why it had felt like that to Lucky. He tried to approach it more logically. “I can see why it seemed that way, but since coming home . . . surely you know now that they loved you.”
Lucky let out a sigh that made Mike’s chest feel heavy. He felt stupid to have been so blind to Lucky’s feelings back then, no matter what
he’d
been going through at the same time. He’d suffered a lot, too, in different ways, but he’d never had to doubt his parents’ love.
“I know,” Lucky said, his voice suddenly softer than Mike had heard it before. “I just
didn’t
for a long time, so I guess I’m still getting used to the idea.”
Now it was Mike who sighed, long and hard, because he still had more to apologize for—being sorry for being wrong wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole since you came home, too, man.”
“It’s not like I’m blameless,” Lucky said, his expression darkening.
And that surprised Mike, a lot. That Lucky would even open that door.
When Lucky turned and sat down on the bank above the lake, balancing his forearms on bent knees to look out over the water, Mike silently joined him. They stayed like that for a few minutes, the only sound the vague noise of the party across the road, until Mike finally asked Lucky what he really wanted to know, what he’d wanted to know for years now. “Lucky, what happened out west?”
“I told you already—”
“No,” Mike cut him off. “The part you didn’t tell us.”
Lucky stayed quiet for a long time, and for the first instance since he’d come home, Mike felt a little sorry not only for Lucky the boy, but also Lucky the man. What had his brother seen, been through? Up to now, he’d just been angry about Lucky’s bad decisions. But what if . . . what if Lucky had gone through really awful things? What if he’d
done
really awful things that haunted him? He was just finally starting to think of Lucky like a real brother again, like someone he cared about. He’d spent so long without a sibling, he must have forgotten how, but now it was coming back to him.
When Lucky didn’t answer, Mike pushed the issue. “Lucky, just tell me.”
And at last, Lucky shook his head, peering out over the placid lake, his expression tired. “Bro, if you care for me at all, don’t ask. It’s just shit I’d rather forget. Shit I try to forget every day.”
Mike let out a sigh. He wished it were that easy. “Thing is, Luck, I been wondering where you were for fifteen years. And I know about your business now, and about your kid, and all that’s great—I’m proud of you for turning things around. But there’s still a big void there, a big gap. And I wanna move past these bad feelings between us, I wanna move past it so damn bad—but I’m not sure I can until you give me some idea what I’m missing.”
Lucky stayed quiet again for a time, until finally saying, “Problem is, Mike, you’re a cop.”
And Mike let that hang in the air a minute as he took it in and began to understand. Just as Lucky added, “And probably a good one. The kind with a lot of integrity—am I right?”
Shit. He made a good point. But then Mike remembered. “Weren’t your days out west a long time ago?” He quietly told Lucky, “There are statutes of limitations on things.”
Finally, Lucky said, “I did some bad stuff, Mike,” his voice strained, and Mike felt . . . God, he felt transported, back to a place in time when he wanted to protect his little brother, take away anything bad that happened to him.
But he only said, quietly, “Go on.”
Lucky kept his sullen gaze on the water. “What you heard is true—I got mixed up with a biker gang.”
And Mike’s chest tightened—not in anger, but in worry.
“And I . . . broke laws.”
“What kind?”
Lucky glanced over at him, but didn’t answer.
“Almost anything you could have done is past being punishable if it was over ten years ago.”
Lucky didn’t manage to look him in the face, though, when he said, “I stole cars. And I did some drugs—but not many. I made the world a worse place for a few years, and it’s not something I’m proud of.”
Mike gave a slow nod. “Is that the worst of it?”
And he waited for Lucky to say yes—and his gut clenched when his brother didn’t reply.
Finally, Lucky’s voice came in a whisper, his expression completely morose as he stared at the ground between his feet. “Mike,” he said hoarsely, “I’m telling you this as a brother, and I’m asking you not to hear it as a cop, okay?”
Shit
. Shit, shit, shit. He
was
a cop. But he also felt, in his gut, that he needed to be a brother to Lucky right now. He needed to be the big brother he hadn’t been in a very long time. “Okay,” he let out softly.
Lucky released a long, almost painful sounding breath and said, “Mike, I killed a guy.”
The words hit Mike in a hot wave that nearly flattened him, leaving him light-headed.
“But it was in self-defense—guy pulled a knife on me. And then he turned it on my best friend.”
Mike steeled himself. Tried not to feel emotional. Tried to just think clearly. “Anybody see it happen?”
“Only my friend Duke. The guy who owns Gravediggers—the one you were about to fight when I came in that night.”
Mike nodded shortly. “He trustworthy?”
“True blue. He got in the fight trying to save
me
.”
“Anybody else know about it?”
Lucky hesitated slightly. “Other guys in the club knew it was me or Duke or both of us. But we got the hell out of there and never looked back. And we never heard from them again.”
Mike thought it through a little more, then said, “Sounds like manslaughter at best. I’ll look it up to be sure, but I think the limit on that in California is probably seven years, ten at most. It’s been more than ten, right?”
Lucky nodded.
“That’s good enough,” Mike said, indeed more brother than cop right now.
They both peered back out over the lake again, and Mike felt a little sick on his brother’s behalf, finally asking, “You okay? About that happening?”
“No,” Lucky answered without missing a beat. “But better than I used to be.”
In response, Mike just sighed, gave his brother a pat on the back . . . and then he let his hand stay there, same as he would have when they were kids and Lucky needed him.
T
essa stood over her desk at the cabin, Amy and Rachel flanking her, as she showed them the sketches she’d done for Duke’s bar. “Wow,” Amy said, “you’re going to hang an entire motorcycle from the ceiling?”
“Yes, and it’s gonna be
so
cool.” Tessa was utterly excited about the idea. “Duke has this perfectly good bike, other than the fact that it doesn’t run and he doesn’t feel it’s worth repairing. So Lucky’s going to paint it—although he doesn’t know this yet—and it’ll be the centerpiece to Gravediggers’ new look.”
Just then, the doorbell rang, and Tessa went to answer it, finding Jenny and Sue Ann on the other side. “Hey, come on in,” she said merrily. They hadn’t been part of the original plan, but Tessa had invited them both at Miss Ellie’s today. “I’m so glad you guys could come on short notice.” Then she turned to Rachel. “Break out the wine coolers, Rach.”
“Mick never minds if I have a night out,” Jenny said. “And believe it or not, he’s partnering with my dad for a euchre tournament at the Dew Drop Inn tonight.” When Jenny and Mick had first gotten together, he and her dad had been like oil and water, but things had changed. In the same way Tessa saw things changing for Lucky right now.
“And I decided Jeff could do the daddy thing tonight,” Sue Ann reported. “He’s been out all day, and working late a lot, so Sophie’s been missing him. And frankly, I could
use
a night out—
and
a wine cooler. Hand it over, Rachel,” she said, heading to the kitchen on Rachel’s heels.
“Trouble in paradise?” Rachel asked Sue Ann loud enough for all to hear.
“Girls,” Sue Ann said, helping Rachel with the coolers, “in marriage, you go through great times and ‘eh’ times. But that’s what it’s all about. Fortunately, for me, the great times always come back, so it’s no biggie.”
Ah, even
that
warmed Tessa’s heart. To know that, come what may, people like Sue Ann and Jeff would always be together—that true love really did exist.
“And speaking of great times,” Amy said, turning her attention to Tessa, “you’re madly in love with Lucky Romo. I saw it written all over your face today, so don’t deny it.”
As the warmth of a blush climbed her cheeks, Tessa said, “Fine, yes—despite my quest for sex, it’s progressed to being a pretty big deal.”
Rachel and Sue Ann re-entered the living room to dole out strawberry coolers, and Rachel gave her a smile. “And I’m sure Lucky told you that he and Mike finally made up today. How great is
that
?”
What was also great, in Tessa’s book, was to suddenly have her friends being so supportive of her relationship with Lucky. A couple of months ago, she couldn’t have dreamed all this.
“Mick was thrilled to see Lucky,” Jenny announced.
“He said that?” Rachel asked, skeptical.
“Well, no,” Jenny admitted. “Mick never acts
really
excited about anything—except maybe sex, and me. But I could tell because he talked about him a lot. I’m really glad he has an old friend to reconnect with.”
“I’m glad for Lucky, too,” Tessa told her.
“And speaking of Lucky,” Sue Ann said, “can you say yowsa? No offense, Jen, but visually speaking, that man makes Mick look like a choirboy.”
From there, the banter went on, with lots of laughter and fun. By the second round of wine coolers, they decided to take the party out onto the deck. Tessa turned on the radio, loud enough for it to blast through the window, declaring this was one perk of not having any neighbors. Besides Lucky, of course, who was out tonight with Johnny.
And when “Whoomp! There It Is,” a party song that brought back memories of high school dances, suddenly burst through the window, Tessa followed her slightly intoxicated instincts and began to shake her hips a little.
“You go, girl!” Sue Ann said—and she began to “go,” too, dancing to the fast hip-hop beat with wine cooler in hand.
Soon, all five girls were singing and dancing on Tessa’s deck in the light of citronella candles. And in that fun, carefree moment, Tessa had to acknowledge to herself that life was good. A few months ago, she hadn’t felt that way. She’d refused to see that, despite all she’d lost, she still had so much. Her family. Her friends. Her health a lot of the time—and it was much better than it had been a few years ago. And now she had a man she loved, too. The least likely man she ever would have picked for herself, yet now she couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect for her.
There was something special, and utterly joyful, in letting herself go this way, in sharing such silly, easy fun with her girlfriends. And it hit her then:
Without all you went through the past few years . . . you never would have reached this moment in time.
She wouldn’t be moving to this fun song, doing the bump with Rachel now; she wouldn’t be laughing as she watched Sue Ann dancing atop her patio table. She wouldn’t have this opportunity to realize how dear her friends were to her, or to remember all they’d been through together over the years.
And . . . whoa. Then something even bigger and grander hit her—hard.
In this moment, she was experiencing everything that made up what she’d come to think of as the Ellen Philosophy: Laugh. Dance. Think Positive. And she suddenly realized that those simple tenets held all the answers she’d been seeking all this time.
She’d been searching for ways to get past the limitations her disease had imposed on her, searching for ways not to let life pass her by—in tattoos, motorcycles, sex, the idea of skydiving. And before all that, she’d seen doctor upon doctor, not to mention holistic healers, herbalists, and more. And she
liked
her tattoo, and she
liked
Lucky’s motorcycle, and God knew she
loved
sex with Lucky—but in the end, it turned out the secret to happiness was much simpler than any of those things. Laughing, dancing, finding the joy in life; learning to expect the best instead of the worst. That was all it really took.