Return by Air (Glacier Adventure Series Book 1)

by Tracey Jerald

  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to look at it.

  Dragging me over to the sink, Jennings bends my arm at the elbow. He winces. I panic a little. “Is it that bad?” I demand truculently.

  His thumb rubs on the side of where the skin feels the most tender. “It just looks a little red. Maris, do you have any ice?”

  “Righty-ho, Jennings,” she drawls. Soon a paper towel is wrapped around my arm, and a plastic bag filled with ice is put into Jennings’s hand.

  He frowns before opening it a little and sucking the air out. “That’s better. It will mold better to your arm.”

  “Jennings, it’s just a minor burn,” I protest, but he frowns down at me.

  “You have to take care of these things, Kara,” he admonishes me. As if I don’t know as a mother.

  I feel dizzy and it has nothing to do with the minor cooking mishap I’m so used to dealing with on my own. Hazarding a glance over at Maris, she answers my unanswered question with a swirl of her finger near her right ear. Great, she thinks Jennings is acting loco as well.

  Dinner’s going to go great between Kevin deliberately baiting his father, Maris being Maris, and Jennings acting like a mother hen. I debate whether to start drinking now.

  “I think it’s feeling better now,” I tell him gently, pulling my arm away. “But thank you. Normally, I’m the one handling all the scrapes and cuts around the house.”

  For some reason, that makes Jennings look inordinately pleased. “Oh, crap.” He looks around. Dropping my arm as quickly as he picked it up, he darts over to where he dropped the bag he was holding. “I just hope nothing broke.”

  “Broke?” I repeat.

  Jennings produces a large greasy bag, which he hands to Kevin. “Those are from Pike’s Place. They’re usually better fresh.”

  “Are those the little donuts?” Maris demands just as Kevin shoves his hand inside to investigate.

  “They are,” Jennings confirms.

  “Gimme.” Maris chases Kevin around the kitchen.

  “No! It was Jennings’s gift to me!”

  My only response is to take the ice pack, lift it across my eyes, and fervently wish I hadn’t been so generous to make this offer in the first place. “What did I do to deserve this?” I mutter aloud.

  Jennings lets out a piercing whistle that causes me to drop the ice bag on the floor. He reaches down to hand it back to me. “Maris, Kevin, they’re to share. Later. Now, Kara, you asked me to bring a predinner snack; I hope this works.” Jennings produces a few bottles of wine, olives, a selection of cheese, and meat, and a loaf of crusty bread. “Is there something I can put this on?”

  I can’t respond. I’m too busy gawking at the edible bouquet in front of me. “Is that brie?” I say almost dreamily.

  Jennings confirms, “It is. Do you want some?”

  “Gourmet cheese is a serious weakness for me, right up with seafood. Dean used to take me to this little specialty cheese store on the north side of Jacksonville for my birthday each year,” I reminisce. Then I turn away so I don’t get emotional. Because the last thing we need is to add that to tonight’s menu.

  Jennings doesn’t say anything. His jaw just tightens as he plucks at the brie wrapper.

  Maris heads into the pantry and comes out with a tray. “I’ll get a knife. Kara, if we have this, I’m certain we don’t need neflies. Why don’t we save them for when we have kielbasa? Kevin, does that work for you?”

  “Totally. Mom, can I go call Brooks?”

  “Sure, sweetheart,” I say absentmindedly. “Don’t be too long since your father is here.”

  “Right. I just wanted to before it got too late back home. I haven’t told him I have a father yet.” Kevin takes off toward the basement at a fast clip.

  “And I need to get dressed for work so I can head out right after we’re done eating,” Maris declares. “Will dinner hold for twenty? Jennings was a little early anyway.”

  Jennings flushes as he chops the bread into wedges of varying sizes.

  “Absolutely,” I confirm.

  “Great. Back in a few.” Maris heads toward the stairs.

  “Thank you, Lord.” I send my thanks upward when the kitchen has resumed its normal level of peacefulness. I enjoy the silence as I unplug the skillet to let it cool before I put away the five pounds of bacon I would have had to fry up to get the necessary amount of grease. When I turn around, Jennings is handing me a piece of bread laden with brie and a slice of prosciutto on a napkin.

  Right now, it makes me want to launch myself in his arms and kiss him all over his handsome face. Curbing that, I murmur an appreciative “Thank you” before I take a healthy bite and moaning. “Let me find the corkscrew.”

  Jennings chuckles. “Have they been like that all day?” he asks as he continues to slaughter the bread.

  Turning from the gadget drawers triumphant, I admit, “It’s always like that between them. It got worse when I started cooking. The meal is one of their favorites.”

  Jennings nods, adding the last of the bread lumps to the platter. “So, what are neflies?” Jennings asks, putting down the knife.

  “A very thin dough boiled in water you then have to fry in bacon grease. It’s an utter pain in my ass to make, but Kevin begged for it.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

  “Are you going to put me in the same category as our son and your friend if I tell you that sounds fucking fantastic? I’ve been living off of fast food all weekend.”

  “Yes, but I’ll forgive you because it really does taste as good as it looks.”

  “Is there any chance I’ll get to have it?”

  “Maybe. It depends.”

  “On what?”

  On if you don’t disappoint our son. On if we can get along well enough for you to be around. But I don’t say that aloud. “On whether a growing boy can withstand the temptation to not eat the bacon that’s in the refrigerator,” I say lightly.

  “Kara?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’d really like to talk with you about…” But Jennings is interrupted by Kevin’s footsteps on the stairs.

  “Brooks says hi, Mom. Oh, cool. Snacks.” And I leave whatever Jennings was going to say unsaid. Instead, I enjoy Kevin hoovering through half of the tray before Maris makes her way down the stairs while making small talk with his father.

  Not long after, we sit down to eat. Conversation flows smoothly with Jennings asking Kevin what he’s seen in Juneau. I fear he’s going to choke on his meal trying not to laugh as Kevin brings out evidence of his argument that Juneau has a distinct ratio of fast-food restaurants to residents because “—before we left, Mom was researching the builders for our first home, Jennings. In the neighborhood we’re looking in, there are at least seven, not counting our local grocery store. And if you drive just a few minutes,” he exclaims, as he shoves a bite of casserole into his mouth, “there’s at least twenty more.” The look he sends Maris is filled with horror. “I feel like we need to send you boxes of TGI Fridays on dry ice.”

  “You do realize I can buy that at Walmart?” she says dryly as she stands. “It’s actually more of a treat to have you and your mother here to cook and have a conversation with.”

  “I get you, Maris,” Jennings agrees. He takes another bite and swallows. “This is about twenty times more delicious than most things I eat out.”

  “Oh? Do that a lot?” Maris asks innocently.

  Suddenly, the heavy casserole doesn’t want to go down. I decide I’ve had enough. I lay my fork on top of my plate, readying myself to stand, when I feel pressure on my wrist.

  Damn, why is it now I remember his fingers used to touch me all over my body, anywhere, everywhere. They’re stronger now than what I remember in my memory, but I still just the same at the feeling of Jennings’s hand on my skin. It sends chills skirting up my spine, and I can’t have that.

  Fortunately, Kevin misses the byplay in his attempt to see how much food he can consume. Jennings doesn’t move even
as he addresses Maris’s veiled question. “Yes, Maris. I do. Most of the nights I’d talk with Jed would be when I was in the office chowing down with my pilots or my operations manager and her partner.”

  “Oh.” Maris doesn’t say anything else. But it’s like a pall has been cast over what was a lovely evening.

  Right now, I want to strangle her. Clearing my throat, I gently remind her, “You said you were working tonight?”

  Lifting her wrist, she groans. “I was supposed to leave like ten minutes ago. I wish I could stay and help clean up, but…”

  I lift a hand and wave her off. “Go. I’ve got this.” Maybe with her gone, some of the tension will dissipate.

  There’s a quick flurry of activity where I sit stoically at the table until Maris is running out, calling, “Bye, everyone!” as she makes her way out the door. Finally, a little calm. Or maybe, the little voice in my head says, it’s just going to get worse.

  “Hush,” I mutter.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Jennings pipes up, amused.

  I groan and drop my head to the table. Unfortunately, since I didn’t move the plate out of the way, the edges of my hair catch in the chicken casserole. “Great, just what I needed to cap off tonight,” I gripe as I use my napkin to pluck the soup, sour cream, and chicken mixture out of my hair

  Both Kevin and Jennings are laughing. “That was better than the time I got you with birthday cake, Mom.”

  Jennings is impressed. “Hers or yours?”

  “Hers. How old were you that year?”

  This time when I attempt to stand, Jennings doesn’t protest. I scrape off the scraps in the disposal before quickly running it. “It was three years ago, so thirty-five. And thank you for reminding me how old I am.”

  “You’re not old, Mom.” Kevin’s face takes on a frightened look. I have to figure out some way of easing that.

  I grab the plate holding the brownies I baked earlier and the tiny donuts Jennings brought and carry both over to the table. “True.” Then, like it just hit me, I snap my fingers. “Just think. Next year, when you get your license, you’ll be able to run to the store for me.”

  “Yep. We agreed that was part of you paying for gas money,” Kevin responds quickly, the tension easing from his shoulders.

  “You realize that means getting everything on the list? Right?” I prod.

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Everything?”

  “Of course,” he replies indignantly, as he shoves a donut in his mouth.

  “Including feminine products,” I say calmly. Jennings barks out a laugh as Kevin coughs. I continue. “Of course, one of the benefits of a woman getting older is…”

  “Jennings, I think I’m going to see what’s on TV for a while. I’m sure you and Mom have a lot to catch up on.” Kevin grabs a brownie, plus another donut, and dashes from the table.

  Once he’s out of earshot, I start giggling. “Well, that worked nicely. I’ll have to tell his therapist about that.” I reach over and grab a brownie.

  “You’re a terrific mom.” Jennings’s voice jolts me away from my personal celebration.

  “Um, thank you?” I lift the brownie to my lips and take a small nibble before putting it on the napkin in front of me.

  His voice lowers. “He’s in therapy?”

  Because Jennings has a right to know, I nod. “He took Dean and Jed’s deaths hard. I wanted him to have someone to talk with.”

  “Is it covered through your insurance?”

  I snort. “Physical therapy, yes. Emotional therapy? They covered four sessions—as if you can build the trust with your therapist in just four sessions.”

  “So, you’re paying for this out of pocket?” he asks incredulously.

  I shrug. “I’d do anything for him, Jennings. Making sure his mental and emotional health are okay…”

  “Is something you can ask for help with, Kara.” His eyes are steady on mine. He reaches over and places his hand over mine. “Please. He’s my son and…”

  “And what?” My heart is pounding as he squeezes my fingers tightly before answering.

  “And I’m already falling for him.”

  I give Jennings a truth he may not be ready for, but it’s the truth nonetheless. “Then you know exactly how I feel since I fell in love with him about two minutes after I found out I was carrying him. So I know exactly what it’s like to take the fall.”

  “Will you let me help him? Help you?”

  “Why don’t we see where this goes?” I suggest, not saying yes or no. I stand, take my wineglass, and go to refill it.

  As I turn to grab the bottle, I don’t know whether to be anxious or concerned when I hear him mutter, “I already know where this is headed.”

  Dean, Jed, are you listening? Please don’t let this be something that ends up hurting Kevin, I plead to the heavens. Taking my drink, I go back to the table to continue my conversation with Jennings until Kevin’s emotionally stable enough from my teasing him about women’s sanitary products to join us again.

  Jennings

  Kara has been gracious with the making a conscious effort to bring me into Kevin’s life. So far it’s only been a meal a day, and I’m starving for more, but at least she called me and explained why.

  “I know you’ve missed out on so much, Jennings,” she told me when she was inviting me over for dinner two days ago. “But I spoke with Kevin’s therapist. She feels it’s best to take care as there have been enough emotional turmoils in his life recently. Together, we have to ease him into this in a way that can be monitored.”

  So, while I want to whisk Kara and my son off to some remote cabin where the three of us can learn every nuance about each other, I’m putting my own wants on the back burner. Kevin’s welfare is the most important thing to both Kara and me. But, even as Kara and I both admit the bond between Kevin and me seems to be growing each time I visit, with her making excuses to leave the room for longer periods of time, there’s a complication.

  It’s getting harder to ignore the fact the air seems to disappear every time Kara gets near me.

  I groan aloud at the desk in my room at the B&B. “Little Owl,” I say aloud in the empty room. The term of endearment suits her even more now than it did back when I first knew her. Between those unblinking golden eyes and the layers of color in her brown hair, the uncanny ability she has of sitting perfectly still before darting off to tackle something critical in that moment, the moniker I dubbed her with sixteen years ago is even more apt now.

  That and the fact she makes this adorable hissing noise when there’s something scientifically inaccurate on TV.

  I almost fell out of the chair the other night when the noise came out of her mouth. First her face scrunched up, and then the sound came out right before she yelled, “That’s not right! The science is off!”

  Kevin, obviously used to it, merely patted his mother’s arm consolingly while he offered some advice. “Word of warning, Jennings. We try to never let her watch anything with science involved unless it’s on NatGeo.”

  “Good to know,” I chuckled, even as the screeching sound emerged from her mouth as a small-town sheriff stumbled across a town in California as he uncovers a secret laboratory of scientists responsible for all mankind’s scientific breakthroughs.

  I can’t remember the last time I had a better night before then. Until the next night I was with them. And when I’m not there, Kara and our son constantly consume my thoughts. I go to sleep thinking about them with a smile on my face and wake thinking about them first thing in the morning.

  And in my dreams, Kara chases me there. The floodgates of my memories now open, my brain has spent the last several weeks superimposing the woman she is today with her touch from the past. And I’m slowly dying every time I’m with her. “I finally get it, Jed,” I say aloud. Kara Malone is an incredible woman, one I never should have let go. And I’d give up just about anything to have a second chance with her, to be able to hold her while touching her s
oft body. Anything, that is, except our son.

  But what about next week, next year? And who’s to say they’re going to want you around? my inner voice inside challenges me. My stomach churns remembering the feelings from my own childhood. Before we move forward in any capacity, I need to have a private conversation with Kara, one that has nothing but everything to do with our son.

  With that thought in my mind, I grab my phone. Instead of texting, I dial and wait.

  One ring. Two. Then a breathless “Hello?”

  My heart twists a little just hearing her voice. “Hey, Kara,” I say casually.

  “Oh, hi, Jennings. I was just going to text you about dinner.” There’s a lag in our conversation I need to fill. Fast.

  “I actually think we should talk.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, I wince. Did that sound as ominous to her as it did to me?

  “What? Is something wrong?” God, it must have. I can feel her anxiety through the phone.

  “Everything’s fine,” I soothe. “I just think there’s some things we should talk about without Kevin overhearing, and now that we’ve established a good foundation”—at least I hope so—“it might be good to get some things out.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.” I can almost picture her organizing her thoughts into lists. “Maris is off tonight, and frankly I’d feel more comfortable with her being here for Kevin. Even though he’s old enough I’d normally leave him home alone, this is a new place, and with everything that’s happening…” She’s babbling, so I jump in.

  “I understand,” I interject smoothly. “We both understand why you’re being cautious. So why don’t you check with Maris, and if that works, I’ll pick you up about six? Restaurants close early around here.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Either way, I’ll see you then.”

  “Bye, Jennings.” And I hear her disconnect.