Nice to Come Home To

by Liz Flaherty

  “Sit down, Gavin.” The woman with him sounded weary. “We don’t know what happened. Father Doherty already told you that.”

  Luke recognized the name then. Gavin Granger was Chris’s older brother. He lived in the family mansion at the end of the lake and had a son in Seth’s class. The younger Granger played on the basketball team, but Seth never said much about him.

  “Just don’t get too comfortable with owning that orchard.” The man’s fist was still waving, and Luke felt an unusual urge to end his angry rant with a well-placed fist of his own. “I’ll sue you for every nickel you ever thought you’d have.”

  Luke ignored him and pulled Cass close. In this, at least, they were together. They started to walk away, as in step as they had ever been. When Gavin spoke again, Luke turned to face him. “Later,” he said as quietly as he could manage. “Whatever you have to say, I will listen to later. For now, just shut up and sit down.”

  The other man sat. His wife, if that’s who she was, looked apologetic, but remained quiet.

  A volunteer came into the room, wearing a coat over her pink smock, to tell them all someone would share information as soon as they could. She didn’t offer coffee, but a short while later returned with a pump thermos and a stack of cups.

  A faint but distinct thwapping sound came from overhead. A siren sounded.

  They waited.

  *

  IT FELT LIKE it had that night half her lifetime ago. Cass hadn’t known what to do then, either, when she wasn’t hurt and everyone else was. She’d walked around in the blue satin dress she’d worn to the prom that had a wide streak of blood down its front. Even now she couldn’t bear to speculate on whose blood it was.

  The trauma department of Sawyer’s hospital had been remodeled since then, leaving the area virtually unrecognizable. But Father Doherty had been there that night, too. She remembered volunteers coming in, buttoning their smocks and distributing coffee and whispered reassurances.

  Most of the people in the waiting area had looked shell-shocked, just as they did now. Mary’s and Isaac’s parents sat silent. As their relatives joined them, they spoke quietly among themselves. Cass knew being Amish didn’t actually guarantee peace of mind and heart, but it had always seemed to her they had it.

  The doors to outside swished open and closed every ten minutes or so. Before she even realized what was happening, all the survivors from the prom night accident were in the room. Offering blood if it was needed. Hugging her. Talking to her one at a time.

  “How did you know?” she asked Arlie, who had gotten there first.

  “Kari was here with a patient when the call came in and she let me know. She’s back there now, helping. I texted Holly and Libby and Mama, and it went on from there. It’s amazing we’re all here. Nate’s almost always in North Carolina this late in the year, but he and Mandy are still here after spending Thanksgiving with his mother.”

  Cass was so grateful; she had no words. She looked over at where Luke stood talking to Chris Granger and couldn’t remember why she’d been so angry. Or why he had.

  They’d made mistakes with each other. Ones they shouldn’t have made. Did those really matter that much?

  “Cass.” It was Sam, handsome as ever. He stood in front of her, his arm around his wife. “Penny and I were talking about how you and I broke up. She wanted to thank you.”

  It was such a relief, there in that room full of fear and grief, to share an eye-roll and a grin with Penny, to accept the tight, quick hug from Sam, to turn slightly and find Luke there beside her again.

  The waiting was so hard. She hadn’t contacted her father and stepmother. She had nothing to tell them.

  The doors whispered open and the county sheriff came in, accompanied by a deputy. The room went completely and eerily silent.

  Although both county and state law enforcement frequented the coffee shop, Cass hadn’t talked to them very much. But when the sheriff took off his hat, she remembered him from prom night. He’d been a deputy then. Young and scared and hating what he had to do.

  She watched, her heart thumping so hard she felt light-headed, as he looked around at the group. “I hate this,” he said quietly. “I hate it for all of you.”

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Gavin’s voice was snappish, but nowhere near as confrontational as it had been when he got there.

  “Gav, stop looking for someone to blame,” said Chris. “Especially before we know anything.”

  “I know my son is in there. Your nephew. Maybe alive and maybe not. What else do I need to know?”

  “There were three cars and a horse and buggy involved,” said the sheriff. “It was at the bend out by the country club.”

  He waited, then, as they absorbed the knowledge that lightning sometimes did indeed strike twice in the same spot. The road had been widened, signage improved upon, but that particular curve was still there. The carved crosses that provided a perpetual memorial were still in the same place. The lazy S curve was far from the tightest one on the serpentine road, yet it had changed the lives of nearly everyone in the room.

  “We’ve pieced together what happened. Two cars, one in front and one behind, were providing the buggy escort.” The sheriff sat down, exhaustion darkening every line on his face. “As you all know, it’s darker than inside sin’s billy goat out there. The Camaro was behind the buggy and a white Ford in front of it. The Ford had just reached the top of the S when a Mercedes came around on the outside of the curve—only he was in the middle of the road and traveling at an excessive speed.”

  “That’s hearsay and you’d be better off not telling it, Sheriff.” Panic laced Gavin’s voice.

  “Shut up, Gavin,” said Chris. He nodded at the sheriff. “Go on, please, Matt.”

  The officer looked at where Mary’s and Isaac’s parents sat with relatives. “This will be hard to hear.”

  He explained what had happened. That the speeding car had pushed the white Ford into the ditch at the side of the road, going on to hit the buggy broadside before crashing head on with the Camaro. When they asked him about injuries, he refused to speculate.

  “Thank you for letting us know.” Luke’s voice was husky. He leaned back on the institutional settee he shared with Cass, his arm warm and tight as he held her close to his side.

  And still they waited.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  AFTERWARD, CASS REALIZED it wasn’t really all that long. It was still dark when some of the survivors took the Amish families back to their homes. Zoey drove Mary’s mother to the Indianapolis hospital she’d been transported to for surgery, so that when the girl woke she wouldn’t be afraid. Kari’s father rode along, and Cass was relieved that her aunt wouldn’t have to make the trip home by herself. Eighty-seven miles could be a long way when you were alone.

  Isaac went home, bandaged and sore and worried. He wanted to go with Zoey, to be there for Mary himself, but the doctor had joined ranks with his family and hers. “You’ll do her no good if you collapse.”

  The family of the driver of the white Ford left when the helicopter carrying their son to yet another hospital lifted off. “He’ll be all right,” the ER doctor had said, “but he needs more orthopedic care than we can give him here.”

  His date had been released to her parents’ care.

  Gavin Granger and his apologetic wife had left as soon as their son’s facial cuts were stitched. They walked out with him between them, none of them speaking to anyone. Chris had watched his brother leave, his expression thoughtful, then sat back down to wait.

  Father Doherty moved between them, as much a prom-night-accident survivor as if he’d been in one of the cars.

  Cass stirred restively. “How can it feel as if it’s been all night when it’s only been a couple of hours?”

  “Because it’s been eighteen years,” said Holly, and the others nodded.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Luke suggested. “We can pretend we’re walking through the orchard.”


  They walked up and down the corridors of the hospital’s first floor. Fifty feet one way, fewer the other direction. It was nothing like the orchard, but there was a level of peace to be found in moving.

  “Have you called your folks?” Cass asked, nodding at the phone in Luke’s hand.

  “Yes. They wanted to get on the road, but I talked them into waiting until I call back. They’ve got snow knee-deep up there. You?”

  She shook her head. “I will when I have something to tell them.”

  “It’s funny how different our families are, isn’t it?”

  “Are they so different?”

  “You’re right. Jill and I raised Seth as much as Mom and Dad did. You and Zoey and even your mom have looked after Royce with no questions asked. It’s loving and taking care of each other and being there at the end of the day.”

  She thought for a minute, walking in silence, about what a non-guy thing that had been to say. At least, compared to her father and Tony. The major had taken care of his family the only way he’d known how, but whatever affection he’d felt had gone unvoiced. Tony was just Tony. He was funny and—usually—kind, but he would never have talked about love or family dynamics. If he’d been with her tonight when the police called, he would have patted her shoulder and told her to let him know if she needed anything. Then he’d have gone back to sleep, because in his family, waiting and worrying were woman things.

  “Are you afraid?” asked Luke, catching her hand and holding it.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  They moved closer, so that their upper arms touched when they walked. They fell into the step that had been so natural to them. He’d loved her long stride. She’d loved that he didn’t shorten his to accommodate her.

  “My mother was as tall as I am,” she said suddenly, “but she tried so hard not to be that she ended up stoop-shouldered. Elegantly so, but stooped nonetheless. It’s important to me that I always stand straight and that Royce does, too. That’s a Cassandra thing.”

  Luke stopped when they reached the end of the hall, and she turned to meet his eyes. He put his hands on her shoulders. “You need to know something. I meant what I said about Cassandra being a name on the front of the book. You are Cass, who stands straight,” he said quietly, “who walks as fast as I do and climbs trees that scare the bejabbers out of me. Who writes books about crazy mysteries on the Wabash and about empowerment of people who need it. You may use a pen name, but the writing comes from you. From Cass. And that’s who I’m in love with.”

  “Mr. Rossiter? Ms. Gentry?” The voice was tentative from several feet away, coming at the same time as Luke’s phone chimed and Cass’s vibrated in her pocket. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” said the lady in the pink smock, “but the doctor would like to see you both.”

  *

  LUKE REMEMBERED TELLING Jill’s mother that the long struggle was over for the young woman they’d both loved. He recalled walking down the hall of the hospital in Altoona. The scent of Jill’s hair was still in his nose, the touch of her soft skin against his lips. He could still feel the palm of her hand against his fingers.

  It had been the longest, hardest walk of his life. Anna had wilted before his eyes, but by the time he’d reached her, she’d stiffened again. She’d taken him into his arms and held him as he wept. It had been the most loving of gestures.

  Luke thought he couldn’t bear to lose Seth; he knew he couldn’t bear to tell their mother. He thought of Royce, and his hand tightened on Cass’s. Please. Please.

  And then he heard the voice.

  “You don’t understand. My brother loved that car. I think maybe you should put me back to sleep or he’s going to want to do it for himself.”

  And, from the next cubicle, behind the curtain came another voice. Sounding very much like a frightened little girl. “Seth, are you okay?”

  Cass sagged against his arm, and Luke caught her before she could fall, holding her until Kari appeared from behind the curtain. “Cass?” She gestured. “Come on in. Someone needs to see you.” She smiled over at Luke. “Right in there, Luke. The doctor’s still with Seth.”

  Luke knew as soon as he stepped up next to the bed that his brother’s senior year basketball season was over. “The knee’s a mess,” said the young ER physician, “but a good orthopedic surgeon can take care of it. It might look like a Jenga game in X-rays, but I’ll lay you dollars to doughnuts he won’t even limp.” He grinned at the boy on the bed. “Stitches in his left arm and a couple of ribs that are going to cause some major discomfort for a few days. He says he plays the guitar and I’m to tell you that of course he can keep playing it, but that he absolutely cannot shovel snow. Take what you will from that.”

  “He’ll be able to earn enough money to pay me back for a totaled Camaro?” Luke stroked a hand through Seth’s hair and let his hand rest on his shoulder. He couldn’t help himself. He’ll be okay, Jilly. He’ll be okay.

  The doctor’s grin became a laugh. “Eventually. For a day or two, though, we want to keep him here. He’s going to sleep a lot, and he’s already given you a bad night, so I suggest you call your folks so they can hear his voice and then go home. You can see him tomorrow.”

  Luke met the plea in his brother’s eyes. “Royce?”

  Seth nodded. “Will you check?”

  “I will.” Luke tapped in his parents’ number and handed Seth the phone. “Talk to Mom and Dad. I’ll be back.”

  In the cubicle next door, Royce was being prepared for a ride upstairs. “Spending the night for observation purposes,” Cass explained. “But she’ll be fine.”

  She had stitches, a broken collarbone and a black eye. “Mary?” she said. “Tell me about Mary.”

  “Aunt Zoey just texted,” said Cass, releasing Kari from worrying about sharing confidential information. “It’s her spleen, but she’ll be okay.” She closed her eyes, tears leaking from under the lids. “You’ll all be okay.”

  In the lobby, Luke and Cass shared the good news with the group gathered there, then got into the orchard pickup and drove toward the farmhouse because Zoey had Cass’s SUV. They rode in silence, delivered from grief yet unable to address the emotion that filled the cab of the truck. When he parked, Luke didn’t turn off the engine. He just got out and walked around to open the door for Cass.

  “I can’t—” she began, when they reached the door.

  He laid gentle fingers against her lips, their softness nearly his undoing. “Not now. We’ll talk, but not now.”

  He waited while she unlocked the door, then started down the steps. At the bottom, he turned and went back up to take her in his arms. “But we will do this.” He kissed her. Long and leisurely and warm, pouring everything into it he felt and wanted and needed and drawing the same back from her.

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk.”

  It wasn’t a surprise that he woke Dan when he called him before sunrise. Well,” said his friend, “this either means you can’t wait to get here or you’re not coming at all. Which is it?”

  Luke lifted his guitar into his lap and felt peace seep in to all the places that had felt open and wounded before this long and frightening night. “I’m not coming. I’m a good-enough orchard guy and I play an all right guitar and my life is here.”

  “There’s a young lady there, too, isn’t there?”

  “There is. I’m anxious for you to meet her.”

  “I’ll be out to visit soon.”

  “Good.” He told him about the accident then, about his fear for his brother and the memory of losing Jill. “It makes me realize that if I’d lost Seth, I’d still have Rachel and Leah. Every day you love someone, you risk losing them. So, would I give up my sisters rather than take a chance on losing one of them? Loving someone after Jill is that risky, too, every single day, but I’m not going to give it up rather than get hurt again.”

  “Good thinking, my friend.”

  Luke hung up and sat and played
his guitar until the sun crept up over the lake. He was waiting. After this long and—in the end—blessed night, he was still waiting.

  *

  THEY’D AGREED NOT to open the coffee shop on Sundays, but Cass wanted the comfort of it. The peace of it. The knowledge that this was her safe place.

  What if he hadn’t meant what he’d said?

  What if there were other secrets he’d kept?

  What if he never forgave her for not telling him who she was?

  What if he went to Pennsylvania?

  Without her.

  She made coffee and, while she was at it, made decaf as well. She’d learned that if the shop opened, coffee drinkers would come. She called her father and stepmother, telling them about the accident and assuring them that Royce would be fine.

  Just as she knew Seth’s parents would be there before the day was over, she knew Royce’s would not. But that was okay, because Sister Coffee Shop would be there for her forever if that was what she needed.

  She poured her coffee and, while she was at it, a cup of half caff in the mug emblazoned with Cool Hand Luke. If she poured it, she thought, maybe—like the other coffee drinkers—he would come.

  And he did.

  He walked in, took her in his arms and kissed her as he had a few hours before.

  “Seth made me promise to ask you first thing if your family would have Christmas with ours.”

  She blinked. “Where?”

  “Probably your house. It’s bigger.”

  “Well, then, yes. Zoey will be thrilled.” She leaned into his embrace for a long moment before leaning back and looking into his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” He kissed her again. “But the truth is, I’ll probably do more than one stupid thing over the next fifty or sixty years. Are you up for forgiving me?”

  “I’ll probably slip back and forth between Cass and Cassandra enough to drive you crazy over the next fifty or sixty years. Can you deal with that?”

  “I can.” He stroked a hand through her hair, and she leaned into his touch. “Cassandra’s in your head,” he said, “and I guess you sometimes need her there.” He took her hand and laid it on the chest of his flannel shirt. “But you…Cass…you’re in my heart.”