Carter glanced over at her. His eyes suddenly went soft and as deep an emerald green as she’d ever seen them. His gaze warmed her to her toes just like the old days when one look from him could send her mind tumbling. She clasped her hands. “Something wrong?”
He smiled, focused on the road again. “I guess I’m just wondering how I got myself into this.”
He hadn’t said the words with any malice intended. In fact, his attempt at a complaint reminded her of the time when she spent nearly every day with him. So many thoughts lately were taking her back to when she was a teenager in love. She recalled sitting in a movie theater and Carter grumbling, “Why did I agree to see this girlie movie?” And then he’d take her hand in his and offer her more popcorn.
Or he’d promised to take her to the mall, and while there, he shuffled his feet and pretended disinterest, all the while telling her he hated shopping. But they’d end up in the food court enjoying milk shakes and the supreme satisfaction of being young and in love. She always paid him back by helping out at the Christmas tree farm on Saturdays or tutoring him in French.
Miranda sighed. She’d never been as close to anyone in her life as she had been to Carter in those days. Not her parents, not even Donny when she accepted his proposal. But Raymond Cahill’s obvious disapproval of the Jefferson clan, and finally her father’s death, had seemed to suck all the air from the balloon of their young lives. And Miranda hadn’t known how to fix it.
“So did you hear about it, when my father died last year?” Carter asked. “I suppose it wouldn’t surprise me that the news reached you in Durham.”
“I did hear,” Miranda said, slightly shocked that Carter had brought up Raymond just when she’d been thinking of him. That kind of a connection used to happen to them years ago. Maybe some bonds were never broken completely. “My mother knew and she told me. I should have sent a card to your mother...your family, but, well...I didn’t know if my condolences would be of any help.”
Carter made the sharp turn that led up Liggett Mountain. “My mom was always fond of you, Miranda. You know that. And from the way she reacted to seeing you the other day on Snowy Mountain, apparently her feelings haven’t changed.”
“Yes, your mother was always kind to me.”
Carter smiled again. “I get what you’re saying. But remember, my father suffered from a lack of social graces. Unfortunately none of us knew the cure.”
“That’s how you would describe his blatant prejudice against the Jeffersons and everyone like them?” Miranda regretted her words. This was Carter’s father after all. “I’m sorry. That was sharp.”
“Maybe, but also true. I’ll admit he did have a deep-seated opinion of folks on Liggett. He seemed to have forgotten that we Cahills rose from nothing and only achieved success by swindling others and watching our backs like our heads were on the wrong way. Raymond Cahill was a man who always carried a knife and looked for someone’s back to put it in.”
“Still, he was your father... He loved you.”
“He loved Ava,” Carter said with bitterness in his voice. “He tolerated me, and he practically hated Jace. He couldn’t accept that a son of his was born with a heart defect. Even when surgery corrected Jace’s problem, Dad still looked at him like he was the weak link.” He stared over at Miranda. She felt the force of his gaze in a slow throbbing of her temple.
“I didn’t celebrate his passing like Jace did, but I admit I never grieved for the old man. I never missed him, not one day.” Carter’s upper lip curled at the corner. “I suppose that’s a terrible thing to say. I’ve never admitted it to anyone before.”
Miranda resisted the very strong urge to touch Carter, perhaps lay her hand on his knee or feel the tendons in his upper arms flex through the tips of her fingers. Despite his comments, Miranda knew Carter wasn’t a cold man. Far from it. But he’d suffered a great loss. How had he adjusted to losing three babies and his wife? In fact, even now, did he ever experience the life-affirming compassion everyone needs once in a while? Did he seek comfort from family and friends? Did he go out on dates? Did he share his emotions with anyone? But she clenched her hands into fists and knew she was probably the last person from whom he would seek pity.
“You know, Carter,” she said, “we feel what we feel. And our feelings are real. They combine to make us who we are. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
They rode in silence for a moment, following the faded yellow line that led to the summit of Liggett Mountain. Carter drove slowly, almost mechanically, as if lost in his thoughts. They still had a mile to go before reaching Lawton’s cabin. After a minute he said, “Did Dad ever say anything to you, Miranda? I mean, did he ever try to belittle you in any way? If he did...”
“No, Carter, nothing so obvious as that.” It wasn’t true. There had been times when she’d felt about as significant as a clod of dirt under Raymond’s boot. Like when she’d appear at the door and he would say, “Oh, it’s you again.” Or he’d pass the kids in the living room, speak a curt hello to Carter, usually followed by a stern reminder that he still had chores to finish, and ignore Miranda as if she didn’t exist in a Cahill world.
Or the worst time, when he gave her the envelope in the hospital right before her father died and announced with twisted pride that he felt bad about what happened to her father. “This is more money than you’ll see in three years of working at some menial job in this town,” he’d said. “But I owe it to you and your mama.”
Thirty thousand dollars. Enough to provide her mother with the down payment for a cute little condo in Hickory that she could manage with Warren’s Social Security checks. And there was enough left over to see Miranda through four years of college if she applied for some local financial aid. She’d always thought she would end up waiting for Carter and working a job in Holly River, just like Raymond said. But that day she determined that she would make something of herself, and the Raymond Cahills of the world wouldn’t make her feel as if her contributions to society were less important than anyone else’s.
That was the same day she decided she would leave Liggett Mountain. Her mother needed to get away, and Miranda could no longer see a happy future for herself in Holly River, where somewhere, deep inside, she would always blame a Cahill for her father’s death. If she told Carter her feelings, she knew he would try to talk her out of her decision. But she couldn’t stand between Carter and his family, and she wouldn’t be looked down upon by anyone just because she came from Liggett Mountain.
A minute later, Carter pulled his SUV onto the gravel patch in front of Lawton’s cabin. There was no other vehicle there, and Miranda was thankful Dale hadn’t returned. This conversation was going to be difficult enough without Dale lending his opinion. Oddly, between the three of them—herself, Carter and Dale—the only one who didn’t seem interested in helping Lawton was his own brother.
Lawton came out the front door wearing the same clothes he’d had on the last time she’d been here, jeans and a T-shirt. The clothes were clean, thanks to the old washing machine on the cabin’s back porch, which obviously still worked. She’d have to take Law on a shopping trip as soon as possible. She’d “lend” him enough money to purchase some clothes. Perhaps that way he’d accept the money without hurting his pride.
Lawton walked out to the car, a guarded look on his face. “Carter, Miranda...” he said. “What are you all doing up here today?”
“We came to see you, Law,” Miranda said, getting out of Carter’s car and giving Lawton a quick hug. “How’s everything going?”
“Okay, I guess.” Law answered Miranda’s question though his gaze never left Carter’s face, almost as if he expected Carter to arrest him at any moment.
“I’m not here on business,” Carter said. “This is a social call, Lawton. Can we go up to the porch and sit a minute?”
Lawton shrugged, glanced at Miranda, and she nodded her okay.
“I don’t have any lemonade to offer,” Lawton said. “I can give you a glass of water.”
Carter headed toward the porch. “That’ll be fine.”
After Lawton went in the house to get the water, Carter tried to turn the decrepit porch into a comfortable area for talking. He turned over an old crockery pot and shoved it next to the only chair, a rocker that had seen better days. An upside-down galvanized bucket would serve as the third chair. Carter smiled at Miranda. “Ladies’ choice,” he said. “But I’d advise you to take the rocker.”
Lawton returned with the water and took the crockery jug for himself, leaving Carter to settle on the bucket. “What’s this ‘social call’ about, Miranda?” he asked his cousin.
“We want to talk to you about making some strides toward re-entering society,” she said. “I think you need to get out of this cabin. It can’t be good for you to stay here day after day without having direction. Your life needs a purpose.”
“I’m managing,” Lawton said. “Besides, I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”
“I know that, but perhaps we can change that. After eight years of incarceration, I know you must be facing some difficult challenges.”
“I’ve just been lying low,” Lawton said. “I figure the less people see of me the better. I’m not comfortable going into town.”
“What about earning a living?” Carter asked. “You and Dale can’t be doing too well on what he makes at lawn work. Don’t you want your own money?”
“Well, sure, but I don’t think anyone around here will hire me. And I don’t even know what jobs are available.”
“That’s why we’re here, Law,” Miranda said. “Carter and I both want to help you.”
“Right...” He drew the word out as an expression of his doubt. “You’ve already helped me, Miranda.”
“Yes, and I’m glad I can help you, but it’s more important that you help yourself, and I think Carter can make that easier for you. You can’t stay up here on this mountain with nothing constructive to do. You need to interact with other people.”
“What are you suggesting?” Lawton narrowed his eyes at Carter. “What does Carter have to do with any of this?”
Carter cleared his throat. “Here’s the thing, Law. Miranda thought...and I agreed, that you might benefit from a mentor. Someone who could guide you into assuming responsibility for your future. Someone who could support and encourage you, help you to get over the culture shock of being on the outside again.”
“And that mentor would be you, Carter?”
“Maybe. I’m thinking about it.”
Lawton stared at his hands clasped between his knees. His mouth moved as if he were talking to himself. His eyes, in his gaunt face, blinked hard. “Are you forgetting that you’re the one who put me in prison, Carter?”
Miranda started to say something, to warn Lawton not to draw conclusions about Carter’s feelings. But Carter raised his hand to stop her.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Carter said. “And I’m not going to apologize for it. You broke the law, destroyed public property and threatened the well-being of our young folks with drug sales. But that’s in the past.” He waited until Lawton raised his face and stared at him. “What you do from this day forward is what matters now, and I’ll help you if you want me to.”
“What can you do for me, Carter?” It wasn’t a serious question, more a challenge for Carter to prove his sincerity.
“You need a place to live, a job. You need to take care of the details that enable you to live a productive life. You might need counseling. Heck, Law, you might even want to get your high school diploma.”
“I had my fill of counseling on the inside,” Lawton said.
“I know you had many counseling sessions in prison,” Miranda agreed. “But that was so you’d understand what you did wrong and how you could prepare to leave prison. Now I think you need counseling to help you with the day-to-day struggles of meeting challenges on the outside. Because it is a struggle, Law. Carter and I recognize that.”
Miranda reached over the arm of the rocker and placed her hand on Lawton’s knee. “But you have to want this, Law. You can’t go into an arrangement like this, take up Carter’s time, if you resent him for what happened in the past. You have to let that go.”
Lawton nodded slowly. “I never had anything against you personally, Carter,” he said. “Dale told me I should have. He said you’re so goody-goody with everyone else in town but you throw the book at a Jefferson anytime you can.”
“And you think Dale’s right, that I’ve been unfair to you and your brother?”
A few moments passed until Lawton shook his head. “No, not to me. I deserved what I got.”
Miranda released a breath of relief. “That’s another thing, Law,” she said. “You can’t believe what Dale tells you, and we need to get you out of this house, into your own place. I know Dale’s your brother, but I don’t think he is interested in helping you succeed. You should get away from him.”
Lawton huffed a disbelieving chuckle. “Like I have the money to do that.”
“I have a place in mind,” Carter said.
Miranda stopped the rocker from moving. Carter knew of a place for Lawton to stay and was willing to suggest it?
“It’s nothing fancy,” Carter continued, “but it’s near the bottom of the mountain where you can catch a bus into town. I think I can talk the owner of the cabin into letting you in without any up-front money.”
“You’d do that?”
“I’d try as a start to this whole mentoring idea,” Carter said. “But you’ve got to agree to listen to me, Law. Sure, we can talk things out. Sometimes our decisions will go your way, but most often they’ll go mine. And you have to accept that. This is going to be hard work for you, and you have to be determined.”
“And Law,” Miranda said. “You can’t harbor ugly feelings toward Carter. I have to believe that you’ll listen to Carter and give him a chance. He knows this town, the people. And he knows you.”
Carter stood, put his hand out to Lawton. “Do you need time to think about this, or do we have an agreement?”
Please, please, Lawton, Miranda thought as she stared at Carter’s hand. Do the right thing.
Lawton rose, took Carter’s hand. “Thank you, Carter.”
And Miranda’s heart melted a little bit more for both men.
* * *
ON THE WAY down the mountain, Miranda kept up a cheerful, chatty conversation. She was pleased that the meeting had gone well. She was thankful to Carter for participating. She was hopeful for Lawton’s future.
“This means so much to me, Carter,” she said, expressing the same thought for the umpteenth time.
“You can quit thanking me, Miranda. We’ll give it a shot. That’s all I’m promising.”
“But you see that Law has potential, right? I mean, you didn’t know him like I did, but he was always my protector. He stood up to the bullies on the mountain, threatening to come after anyone who hurt his little cousin. Until Law quit school in the tenth grade, I never worried that someone would steal my lunch money or take my book bag.”
Carter smiled. “Come on, Miranda. You may have had to search the couch cushions for loose change once in a while, but you make it sound like you were this pathetic, lost soul who couldn’t stand up for herself.” He chuckled. “That’s not the Miranda I remember.”
He had a point. Once Miranda got in high school, she learned how to fit in. She shopped the stores that offered the best buys in junior-size clothing and took meticulous care of everything she owned. She managed to get braces and have her hair cut every couple of months, and she made friends with kids from all the different neighborhoods. And she attracted the attention of the nicest, cutest guy at Bolton County High School. By the time she entered her senior year, she was captain of the cheerleadi
ng squad, and though far from being a scholar, she was in the top half of her class academically. And she was Carter Cahill’s longtime girlfriend.
But during those formative years of grade school and middle school she’d been an awkward, struggling kid whose safest place was next to her best friend, Lawton. She was secure with Lawton, happy to be with him. She told him everything and knew her secrets were safe. And then he quit school and she was on her own. Looking back, maybe Lawton’s decision was the turning point in her life, the act that made her stand up for herself. But she owed him for so much.
Carter took a turn onto the last road before the bottom of the mountain.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I thought you might like to see the cabin I have in mind for Lawton. Knowing how women are—” he chuckled “—I figured you’d want to start thinking of ways to pretty it up.”
“I’d love to see it,” she said.
About a quarter of a mile farther, they pulled up to a small cabin that seemed like a relic of pioneer days. But it had a porch, wide, cheery windows, parking for one car in front and a sturdy chimney.
“It’s only two rooms and a bath,” Carter said, putting his car into Park.
“Who owns it? Anyone I know?”
“You remember Mr. McNulty who taught civics at BCHS?”
“Yes. I always liked him. He owns this place?”
“He does. His mother lived here until she died twenty-some years ago. I guess McNulty didn’t have the heart to sell it. He’s living in a retirement place in Boone now but comes into the station once in a while to see what’s happening in Holly River.”
“So you’ve stayed close to him?”
“As close as a former student can be to his teacher I guess.”
Miranda was charmed by the log structure, the wood-slat shutters at the windows, the small and welcoming porch. “And you think he’ll rent this to Lawton?”
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