by Elle Kennedy
He had to smile. “Don’t get too excited. I didn’t win.”
“How many other photographers were considered?” his mother demanded.
“I’m not sure, depends on who submitted an entry. Hundreds, thousands?” he estimated.
“And how many final?”
“There’s one winner, and two finalists. Runner-ups, I guess.”
Triumph exploded in her gaze, mingling with the pride shining there. “And you were one of the two finalists! In my book, that’s an incredible accomplishment. Which photo did you send?”
“The black-and-white shot of the riot in Baghdad.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling bashful. “I think I emailed it to you last year.”
“I remember. That was a stunning photograph.” She smiled wistfully. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie. Can I keep this letter so I can frame it?”
He chuckled. “Sure. I have another copy.”
Della reached for her teacup, her expression relaxed for the first time in more than a year. “Now tell me about your recent assignment. Nate said something about Main Streets?”
Austin nodded. “Honestly, it wasn’t as exciting as I would’ve liked, but once Mari joined me, it ended up being kinda fun.”
“Mari…” Della looked thoughtful. “She seems like a sweet girl.”
“She is,” he admitted. “She’s pretty amazing, actually. I mean, she babbles a lot, and she’s got a weird sense of humor, but she’s also got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. She came all the way to Colorado with me because she knew I needed a friend.”
“Friend… Is that all she is to you?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “She’s more than a friend,” he confessed. “But before you ask, I have no idea what’s going to happen with us. Eventually she’ll be going back to Des Moines.”
“And until then?”
“Until then, we enjoy spending time together.”
It was Della’s turn to hesitate. “I’m enjoying spending time with you. It’s been so long since we just sat around and talked. I missed you.”
“I know.” He swallowed that annoying lump in his throat. “I missed you too. But I—”
He was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and then his uncle’s voice wafted into the kitchen.
“Hey Del, sorry for showing up without calling, but—” Rice strode into the kitchen like he lived there, then stopped in midsentence and froze when he spotted Austin. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He glanced at Della. “I took the day off work. Thought I’d come by for a coffee.”
Della shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable, but Austin knew his mother was far too good a hostess to turn Rice away. Sure enough, she pushed back her chair and said, “Why don’t you sit down? Let me get you a cup.”
Rice edged toward the door, his gaze darting to Austin. “Nah, it’s all right. I can come by later this week.”
“You may as well sit,” Austin muttered. “You drove all the way here.”
His uncle looked surprised. “Are you sure?”
In response, Austin stiffly gestured to one of the empty chairs.
After a serious show of reluctance, Rice rubbed his palms on the front of his faded jeans and sat in the chair across from Austin’s. Eyeing the other man, Austin couldn’t help but notice how youthful he looked. And he was still in great shape thanks to years of manual labor at Paradise’s paper mill. Austin knew Rice was in his mid-fifties, but he appeared two decades younger.
As Della went to the coffee maker, the two men watched each other uneasily. The silence was eventually broken by Rice’s heavy sigh. “Let’s just clear the air, then.”
“You mean you’re finally willing to stop pretending the truth didn’t come out?” Austin couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Because you’ve done a damn good job of avoiding the subject this year.”
“I was waiting for you to come to me,” Rice admitted. “But you never did.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “It wasn’t my place to come to you, for chrissake.”
“I was trying to give you time, damn it.” Looking frustrated, Rice softened his tone. “I’m sure you have a ton of questions for me. So go ahead and ask them.”
“I only have one,” he said evenly. “Why didn’t you step up and claim me as your kid?”
Rice met his accusatory gaze head-on. “Because your mother and I decided it would cause more harm than good.”
Della returned to the table, handed Rice a steaming mug, and turned to Austin with imploring brown eyes. “He’s being overly kind. It was my decision to let you believe that Henry was your father.”
“And I supported that decision,” Rice said firmly. “Henry’s temper was notorious. Who knows how that son of a bitch would’ve reacted if he found out we had an affair.”
Discomfort lodged in Austin’s chest as he suddenly envisioned his mother and uncle in bed together. The image induced a rush of nausea, so he promptly pushed it right out of his head.
“We made our choice,” Rice went on. “And despite my brother’s shitty parenting, you had a mother who adored you and an uncle who tried his damn hardest to show you that not all men were like Henry.”
Austin shot him a bitter look. “I think I would have preferred a good father to a fun uncle, Rice.”
“I know.” Remorse flickered in those green eyes, so much like his own. “But like I said, we made our choice, and there’s nothing any of us can do to change it now. All we can do is move forward.”
As Rice and Della exchanged a look of solidarity, an unwelcome thought occurred to him. “Are the two of you still involved?” he asked warily.
They were both quick to shake their heads.
“Like I told you, the affair ended once your father came back that summer,” Della maintained.
“Your mother and I are friends,” Rice added. “As we’ve always been, and as we’ll always be. And…you’re our son.” The man looked increasingly nervous, his gruff voice cracking slightly. “I’d like to try to be a father to you, Austin. I know it’s probably too late, and you’ll probably tell me to fuck off, but I want you to know I’m here for you. I want us to have a relationship, if that’s in any way possible.”
Austin’s heart twisted in his chest, and for one brief moment, he experienced a sense of longing. Christ, what he wouldn’t have given for a dad like Rice growing up.
But instead, he’d gotten Henry Bishop, a man who’d been completely indifferent to his sons, who acted like they didn’t exist half the time.
The memory evoked a rush of resentment. “You had the opportunity to be there for me years ago but you passed,” he said dully. “I think the father ship has sailed, Uncle Rice.”
Rice’s expression became strained. “I understand.”
Della, however, wasn’t as accepting of that response. “Austin, he’s trying to make amends. What’s the harm in giving him a chance?”
“He had his chance.” With that, Austin scraped back his chair and got to his feet. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Austin—” Della protested.
“Let him go, Del,” Rice said.
Austin fixed his gaze on his mom. “I heard what he had to say, okay? But we can’t just snap our fingers and suddenly become father and son.” A tired breath slipped out. “I’m trying here, Mom. I really am.”
Sorrow washed over her face. “I know.”
“The more pressure you put on me, the more I want to shut down again. You want everything to go back to normal, but I don’t know if it ever will. And every time I come back, I hope I’ll feel differently, that the anger won’t be as strong, but then I get pressured from all directions and all I want to do is leave again. So please, let me try and get past this on my own time.”
She was quiet for so long he thought she wouldn’t answer, but finally she spoke, her tone sad but resigned. “I promise to give you all the time you need.”
Mari had figured the novelty of Paradise
would wear off eventually, yet she only seemed to fall more and more in love with the idyllic town. A week had passed since Della’s birthday party, and over the course of that week, Mari had become completely immersed in the small town and its residents.
Yesterday she’d gone shopping with Charlotte and Lexie, then enjoyed a tour of the Paradise Post offices from Lexie, who was the editor-in-chief of the local paper. The day before that, she and Austin went over to Maddie and Owen’s for a movie night. And although Jake and Bree were back in Denver, Mari was now Facebook friends with Bree and the two women constantly chatted online.
She couldn’t believe how amazing Austin’s family was. They’d welcomed her into the fold with open arms, and she was even beginning to forget that Charlotte was a famous singer—the woman was so laidback and fun to be with that Mari felt like they’d been friends for years.
The only thing that put a damper on her happiness was the fact that Austin was moving at a snail’s pace when it came to making inroads with his mom. He’d gone over to Della’s several times this week for breakfast or lunch, but Mari could tell that his guard was still up, and when he spoke about the visits, his voice lacked enthusiasm.
It was almost like he was standing in front of a massive wall, trying to figure out how to scale it, all the while oblivious to the door right in front of his face. He couldn’t seem to move forward and fully forgive his mom, and Mari desperately wished he would just open that door of forgiveness so he could finally reach the other side of the anger wall.
Which was why, on this bright Monday morning, Mari decided it might be time to speed up the process. Austin had gone to help Owen and his crew with a construction job, but he’d left Mari the SUV—and her first order of business today was a visit to Austin’s mother.
She hadn’t told him she was going there, but she had called ahead to make sure it was okay with Della, who’d sounded thrilled to have some company. Mari knew that Austin’s mother had been a homemaker her entire adult life, and was now living comfortably off her late husband’s life-insurance policy, and she imagined Della got pretty lonely all by herself in that big house. It made sense that she tried so hard to be involved in community events. Mari couldn’t imagine not having a job and twiddling her thumbs in boredom all day long.
Standing on Della’s porch, Mari hoped that Austin wouldn’t think she was overstepping by visiting his mother. But she didn’t intend on spilling his secrets or anything. She genuinely wanted to spend time with Della, and maybe see if there was a way to bridge the distance between mother and son.
Seconds after Mari rang the bell, Della answered the door with a beaming smile. “I’m so happy you came by, Mari! Would you like to sit out on the deck? It’s a lovely day and I just made some fresh-squeezed lemonade.”
“Sounds great,” Mari answered as she walked inside.
The two women headed into the kitchen, where Della grabbed a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and two tall glasses from one of the white cupboards. With their drinks in hand, they stepped out on the deck and settled in a pair of comfortable patio chairs around the large glass table.
When Mari spotted the sketchbook and drawing pencils on the tabletop, her eyes widened in surprise. “You draw?”
Della’s cheeks took on a rosy hue. “I do, but not often. It’s more of a hobby.”
“Austin never mentioned it.”
“That’s because he doesn’t know. It’s my secret hobby.” Della smiled ruefully. “I’m very critical of myself, so I don’t show my drawings to anyone.”
Mari gestured to the book. “How about making an exception for me? Because I’d love to see your work.”
The older woman looked both embarrassed and reluctant. But the reluctance slowly seemed to fade away, and then she slid the book across the table.
Mari opened the first page to find a pretty sketch of a mountainous landscape with an eagle swooping above one of the majestic peaks. The next page showed another landscape, this one a gurgling creek with a deer bending over to lap at the water. Nearly all the drawings showcased different aspects of Paradise, and the little town came to life in front of Mari’s eyes. The forests and lakes and mountains, the historical buildings and little shops, a gorgeous fireworks display in the town square.
“You’re really good,” she said earnestly, finally meeting Della’s anxious gaze. “I’m terrible at landscapes. But you really managed to capture the sheer beauty of this town.”
Della fidgeted modestly. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. Austin told me you’re an art teacher. Do you also show work as well?”
“Yes, though I haven’t had a lot of time to work on my practice lately. But I guess now that I’m out of a job, I can start painting again.”
“I didn’t realize you’d lost your job,” Della said sympathetically. “I assumed you were off for the summer, being a teacher and all.”
“I wish this was just a summer break,” she said glumly. “But the school where I worked was forced to lay off a lot of staff, and, well, you know the arts aren’t considered too important these days, so my department was the first to go.”
“That’s such a shame. I think the arts are extremely important.” Della donned a pensive look. “You know, I just remembered something… I was talking to Harriet Burns earlier this week—she’s the principal of Paradise’s elementary school. Anyway, she mentioned that one of her teachers had a terrible accident. Jessie Dawson, a real sweet woman, about your age, I think. She’s four months pregnant, and last week she fell down a flight of stairs and broke her leg.”
Mari gasped. “That’s awful. Did she lose the baby?”
“Oh no. Fortunately, the baby is fine. But she’s totally immobilized now. She was supposed to go on maternity leave in November, but Jessie and Harriet arranged for the leave to start now. But see, this leaves Harriet in a real bind.”
Mari was wondering where Della was going with all this, but Austin’s mother apparently liked to take her sweet time getting to the point. For some reason, though, Mari found the woman’s penchant for telling stories in excessive detail kind of charming.
“Every summer the school runs a day camp for the children,” Della went on. “Jessie is the head of the school’s art and drama department, and she was responsible for that aspect of the camp. Harriet is desperate to find someone to fill in. This might be overstepping, but I can check if she’s willing to meet with you.”
Dumbfounded, Mari stared at Austin’s mom. “You mean, for a job interview?”
“Yes. Of course, I don’t know any of the details—you’d have to discuss them with Harriet—but if you’re interested in staying in Paradise for the summer, it might be a nice opportunity for you. I’d help the camp out myself, but I don’t think I could keep up with those rowdy kids, not at my age.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh pshaw, you can’t be a day over thirty-five.”
Della beamed at her. “I knew I liked you.”
Laughing, Mari reached for her lemonade and mulled over Della’s idea as she took a long sip. She would actually love to spend the summer in Paradise, and earning some money while she did it was definitely appealing. However, if she stuck around, she’d miss her interviews in Des Moines. Not only that, but she had no idea what Austin’s plans were. What if he didn’t intend on being here all summer?
On the other hand, what was the harm in meeting with Principal Harriet and hearing what she had to say?
“You know what, give her a call,” Mari decided. “It probably won’t amount to anything, but it can’t hurt to get some more details.”
“Wonderful! I’ll call her shortly.” Della’s eyes twinkled. “But first, I want to hear all about the road trip you took with my son.”
“It really wasn’t that exciting,” she admitted. “There was a lot of driving involved.”
When she glimpsed the disappointment in Della’s eyes, she realized that Della’s request had nothing to do with the trip itself—the woman simply wanted
to hear about Austin.
Mari’s heart ached. God, Austin had totally shut Della out this last year, and the woman was probably desperate to feel any sort of connection with him, even if it was just a secondhand account of a silly trip through the Midwest.
“But,” Mari continued quickly, “I did discover that Austin absolutely sucks at car games.”
Della laughed in delight. “He was never a fan of games. He preferred playing sports. What games did you play?”
“Well, there was Family Feud, but the Fast Money round was a disaster, thanks to his ridiculous answers…”
For the next hour, Mari regaled Austin’s mother with random stories from the trip in great detail.
And knew without a doubt that she’d made Della Bishop’s day.
Several hours later, Mari walked into Nate and Charlotte’s living room and found Austin on the couch, watching TV with a grave expression.
“Holy shit, can you believe this?” he demanded when he spotted her.
She wrinkled her forehead. “Believe what?”
He glanced at her in surprise. “Haven’t you seen the news?”
“No. I was out all morning and—oh my gosh,” she blurted out when she glimpsed the images flashing on the television.
Sinking on the couch beside him, Mari gaped at the words scrolling along the bottom of the screen.
Tsunami devastates Malaysian coast. Thousands dead. Entire villages wiped out.
“When did this happen?” she breathed in horror.
“Earlier today.” He sounded grim. “A dozen resorts along the coast were hit, and some towns are completely destroyed. It’s a clusterfuck over there—thousands dead, missing, trapped under debris.”
Her horror only grew the longer they watched the news reports. It was almost unfathomable—buildings and houses submerged, cars and garbage and debris floating in a sea of water that covered what was formerly land, the dirty, bloodstained faces of survivors. And the footage of the monstrous wave brought tears to Mari’s eyes.
“Those poor people,” she whispered.