Home to the Riverview Inn

by Molly O'Keefe

  Iris’s breath hiccupped.

  “I’m sorry I was so weak last night,” Patrick said. “That I made you think I was going to let you walk away from me again. Because I can’t.” He shook his head. “I won’t. You are mine, Iris Mitchell. In front of God, in front of our boys, you are mine.”

  Well, Jonah thought, that was pretty good. He caught Gabe and Max nodding their heads in agreement.

  “Mom?” Jonah said when Iris didn’t fling herself into Patrick’s waiting arms.

  “I forgive you,” she said to Patrick. Then she waited. She tilted her head and waited longer. They all waited.

  “Thank you,” Patrick said, tears running down his face. “I forgive you, too.”

  And with that, Iris went running. Patrick caught her, holding her head so he could kiss her face. He whispered words Jonah couldn’t hear into her smiling mouth.

  A weight was pulled from Jonah’s chest. Guilt and sorrow that had dogged him and his mother for thirty years just evaporated as if it had never been there. Mom was happy and it was all Jonah had ever wanted.

  Now, he thought, wondering if it was too early to start drinking, if only Daphne could be so easily persuaded.

  “Nice job, Jonah,” Gabe said. He and Max had the folding chairs under their arms.

  Max nodded in agreement, but his obsidian eyes weren’t quite warm. “What’s the story with Daphne?”

  Jonah groaned and looked heavenward. “I need a drink.”

  “Ah,” Gabe’s arm landed across Jonah’s shoulder and the two men steered him inside. “I remember that feeling.”

  “Me, too,” Max said with a smile. “I’ll get the scotch.”

  16

  Jonah stayed.

  It had been two and a half weeks since she’d told him to go and he wasn’t budging.

  Daphne stared out the window over the sink at the land across the fence from her pumpkin patch. There were trucks on that land, taking away the rubble from the buildings that were being torn down. Crews had come and gone, surveying the property. Guys in hard hats stayed for a day, rolling out blueprints, then, after nodding their heads and slapping each other on the back, they all left.

  But not Jonah.

  Daphne hired another delivery guy so she never went to the Riverview. And Jonah had, in turn, hired her delivery guy and the truck to take the food down to the school. Which was fine with her. She was happy to help. Happier that she didn’t have to sit in that truck cab with Jonah every day.

  But every day he came up to the land.

  Helen, the little spy, told Daphne that Jonah spent all day knocking down the old buildings himself. With a sledgehammer. So that the land would be ready for the residences he had planned, and the classrooms and basketball court he wanted for Haven House. Helen claimed he packed a lunch and at the end of the day Patrick, Gabe or Max would stop by to bring him a beer.

  Every night he went back to the Riverview but every morning he returned.

  With gifts.

  The first morning it had been the newspaper and a cup of hot coffee sitting on the front stoop. Like a child, he’d rung the doorbell and left before she got there.

  Then it had been oysters packed in dry ice. And sushi from New York delivered at dinnertime.

  Then the flowers started. Black-eyed Susans and clover from the roadside tucked into the beer bottles. Yesterday tulips were delivered from the city. The day before, a rosebush had been planted by her back door.

  Day by day, minute by minute, he was wearing her down, chipping away at all her anger and doubt. Mining under her righteous reasons for walling him out.

  He’d obviously made up with his family. He’d kept his promise about Haven House.

  “Hey, Mom,” Helen cried, the front door slamming in its casing behind her.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to slam the door?” Daphne grumbled, so stressed and strung out about Jonah she was getting snippy with Helen, who didn’t deserve it.

  “Lots,” Helen said, unfazed by snippy Mommy. “Look what came for you.”

  Daphne cranked off the water and wiped her hands on a tea towel, dying to see what Jonah had in store for her, yet, at the same time, not wanting to see. I’m not strong enough for this, she thought. I’m too weak and I’ll let him in and he’ll go. He’ll leave and it will hurt so much because I love him more than I’ve loved any man.

  But of course, she looked at the long, thin box wrapped in a purple bow, with a small card tucked under the ribbon, that Helen held. And her heart sang.

  “Where’d you find it?” Daphne asked.

  “On the front step. You gonna open it?”

  No. She should just get rid of the box, without opening it. Perhaps take it over to him and demand he stop with these childish games so they could both move on with their lives.

  “Oh, Mom.” Helen sighed as though Daphne was the biggest disappointment. “I’ll do it. You open the card.” Helen thrust the tiny card at Daphne and went to work on the ribbon.

  With trembling hands Daphne opened the envelope.

  I miss you, it read, in thick masculine handwriting. I miss us.

  “Oh, cool,” Helen cooed, lifting out a pair of long black silk gloves.

  “Oh my Lord,” Daphne cried, grabbing the gloves out of Helen’s hands like they were dynamite. The gloves—No, they weren’t the gloves. They were new gloves.

  She groaned and dropped her head into the balled-up silk in her hand.

  “Mom,” Helen said after a moment, her little hands patting at her shoulders. “Do you like Jonah?”

  Daphne sighed heavily. Like him, as if they were fifth-graders? That didn’t even begin to cover it.

  “Yes,” she said, “but it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated like it is with Daddy?” Helen asked and Daphne lifted her head.

  “No,” she said. “Not like that. Complicated in a different way.”

  “Daddy asked out Josie’s teacher. They’re going on dates.”

  Daphne dropped her head back into the gloves. Ah, just the sort of cheery pick-me-up she needed to hear. “Good for Daddy,” she mumbled.

  “Do you love Jonah?”

  Daphne reached out to stroke the end of her daughter’s braid. Helen’s hair was turning more blond with the increasing summer sun. The strands seemed almost white like when she was a baby. Changing.

  Me, too, she thought. I’m changing. I can’t stop this.

  I am powerless.

  “Yes,” Daphne finally answered. “I love Jonah.”

  “He loves you, too,” Helen said.

  “How do you know?” Daphne smiled, laughing slightly at her daughter’s hubris.

  “He told me.”

  “When?” The traitor. She was supposed to be spying for Daphne!

  “I have a life, Mom,” Helen said, rolling her eyes. “I go over there sometimes and we talk.”

  “What do you talk about?” Daphne asked, almost afraid to. Something big and thick was rolling through her, starting in her stomach and building through her chest. Like steam in a kettle, it kept building and building and she didn’t know how long she could keep it in.

  Helen shrugged. “About what he’s building. And what it will be like there for the kids and moms from the city. And we talk about school and boys and Jerry the Gerbil—”

  Just like that Daphne blew. She stalked out of the house.

  “I like him, Mom,” Helen cried, coming after her. “You shouldn’t worry about him leaving.”

  “Why’s that?” Daphne asked, turning around, angry and upset by the gloves and the flowers and the conversations he was having with Helen.

  “Because,” Helen said, “he’s not going anywhere. Mom, if you love him and he loves you, why don’t you just be together? Why are you making this so hard?”

  “Because he screwed up!” Daphne yelled. “He made mistakes.”

  “So?” Helen asked, shrugging. “I keep slamming the door, but you forgive me.”

  It w
as hardly the same thing. Right?

  So she spun on her heel and followed the sounds of deconstruction happening on the adjoining land. She stomped through her pumpkin patch and climbed over the old fence only to come face to sweaty back with Jonah.

  Going to work on what was left of the old barn, he wore gloves and a sweat-stained red shirt that clung to him. His whole body flexed and shifted as he swung the sledgehammer into the rotting oak, tearing it down bit by bit, as if he’d been doing manual labor all his life.

  Daphne’s throat was a sand trap and all her anger coalesced into something hotter. Something more dangerous.

  Oh, her body cried, those unruly hormones starting a ruckus, we want that one!

  “Hey, Jonah!” Helen said with a big wave.

  He stopped and pulled his sunglasses off. The smile that lit his face at the sight of them hit Daphne right at the knees and her whole body went wobbly.

  “Hi, girls,” he said, wiping his forehead with his arm and Daphne thought maybe she should shield Helen’s eyes from something that, to Daphne, was so X-rated it shouldn’t be viewed in broad daylight.

  “I see you got my gift,” Jonah said after a moment. She just stared at him, still reeling from the potent sexual appeal of him. “The gloves,” he clarified.

  Right. The gloves she was so mad about. “What are you doing?”

  “Well—” he took a big breath and looked at the skeleton frame of the barn “—I’m tearing this down so I can build a cafeteria and—”

  “With me,” she said, lifting the gloves clenched in her fist. “With these.”

  “I’m giving them to you,” he said slowly, as though she might not understand his language and Helen, behind her, giggled. “Because I like you.”

  “Well, stop,” Daphne said.

  He shook his head.

  “What?”

  “I am not going to stop.”

  “To what end, Jonah? What do you want?”

  His smile was so sweet, so sure, his beloved face lit with something she could only call happiness. “I want you to marry me,” he said.

  She nearly stumbled backward. Marry? He’d never said anything about marriage. About vows. About permanence. Her head spun.

  “Yes!” Helen pumped her fist. “We’re getting married.”

  “Helen.” Daphne sighed. “Could you go back to the house? I need to talk to Jonah alone for a second.”

  Helen looked mutinous but finally she agreed. “I’m going, Mom, but my vote is we keep him,” she said, pointing to Jonah before turning tail and leaving.

  “I’ve got your kid’s vote,” Jonah quipped. “What do I have to do to win yours?”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Daphne, I’m staying.”

  “For how long?”

  He blinked. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

  Oh God, it was so what she wanted to hear. So what she wanted to believe.

  “Have you told your family about your plan to put them out of business?”

  He nodded. “I told them a few nights ago.”

  “And?”

  “And, Gabe laughed.” Jonah shrugged. “He said he would have done the same thing if he’d been in my shoes.”

  Daphne gasped. How could they forgive him so easily?

  “Don’t use the land thing as an excuse, Daphne. It’s water under the bridge.”

  His eyes bored into hers with an intensity that made her light-headed. She was dizzy with her feelings for him. Anger and hurt mixed with desire and love. How was she supposed to make sense of this?

  “Daphne—” He reached for her and she flinched away, feeling too raw to be touched by him. Too unstable to trust herself.

  “No more gifts. Please. Don’t talk to my daughter. Don’t try to see me.” She turned away, needing terribly to get away from him. But he grabbed her hand, pulled on her when she tried to yank herself free.

  “I’m staying, not just for Haven House, but for you,” he whispered and when he wouldn’t let go of her she shut her eyes. Blocked him out. “I sold my condo. Moved in with my family. I’m watching my parents kiss all damn day. I realized after we made love and I left that my life is empty without you. I’m not going to walk away from you without a fight. This is my life now. My family. Haven House and you.”

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t believe me?” he asked and she knew he was wounded but she forced herself not to care. Better now, better these minor hurts and pains rather than what would happen later, after Helen was attached and Daphne was deeper in love.

  “I think you mean it now,” she said. “But you could change your mind. Are you going to mean it three weeks from now? How about during the winter, or five years from now? Or six? Or when Helen—”

  “I’m not Jake,” he said, his eyebrows snapping together in irritation. “And I am not your father. I am not going to leave you.”

  “You don’t know that,” she cried. “You said it yourself, there are no guarantees.”

  “I am,” he said fiercely. He pressed her hands to his heart. “I am a sure thing. And you love me.”

  She turned her head away. She couldn’t keep her feelings hidden. But it hurt that she was so transparent to him when she couldn’t read him at all.

  “You do. You love me,” he insisted. “And I…” He took a big breath. “I love you.”

  That was enough. She jerked her hands away and shoved him back a step. “Please,” she snapped. “You barely understand the concept.”

  “You’re right!” He laughed, flinging his arms out. “I’m a total idiot when it comes to this stuff. I’m screwed up about my parents and my brothers—but I’m trying. I have no clue what happy is, except that it’s what you make me feel. So, you’re right. I barely understand what it means to be happy or in love. I’m just figuring it out, because of you.”

  “That hardly sounds like a guarantee,” she said. “It sounds like a disaster.”

  “I know. But I think that’s what love is.”

  She shook her head, unable to be convinced. Sick to her stomach, right now love was the worst thing that had happened to her.

  His eyes sparked with sudden anger and he dropped the hammer, grabbing her in his arms. His touch gentle but hard, and memories of New York flooded her. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said through clenched teeth. His breath, coffee-scented and hot, brushed her face and her body couldn’t stop the yearning that billowed up from her core. “I want to marry you, Daphne.”

  His kiss was like dark chocolate, laced with a little anger and frustration and, she could feel it in him, desperation. She drank it in, because she was desperate and frustrated and so in love she couldn’t see straight.

  “I’m ready to send you a thousand gifts, one a day for as long as it takes you to get your head on straight.”

  He gave her a little shake, another hard kiss then released her. She was unbalanced, suddenly drifting without his touch, his firm hands and rough voice in her ear.

  “Remember what you told me at the gala?” he asked. “You said sometimes you have to let love in.”

  Her scalp tingled and her hands went numb. The tears were back behind her eyes.

  “I love you, babe, and I’m not going anywhere until you let me in.”

  Daphne shook, trembled like a divining rod over water. Finally when it felt as though she was going to shatter from all that she wanted and wouldn’t let herself trust, she sat down hard on a tree trunk beside him.

  There was a vast stillness in her, a silence so profound it made her nervous. She wanted to reach out to Jonah, assure herself that she wasn’t as alone as she felt right now.

  But this was what she wanted. This was what she ran out here to ensure. That she would be alone. Forever.

  This is your life, she told herself, a low hum reaching out of the silence. This is what you want.

  No, something in her cried. It isn’t. You want him and you’re too stupid to take what he’s offering.

&nb
sp; Helen was right—she was making this harder than it had to be.

  The hum accelerated to a growl then a roar. She couldn’t think anymore, so she just acted. She let those unruly hormones and her sturdy heart and her daughter’s wishes rule her—for better or worse. Something deep in her, forged in iron and betrayal, snapped.

  She let go of control.

  “I want babies,” she said and he whirled to face her. “Like six of them.” Words fell out of her mouth in a voice that wasn’t quite hers. She was running downhill and picking up speed.

  He didn’t miss a beat, her handsome, smart environmental bastion. He nodded. Solemnly. “Done.”

  “You have to give me some of this land,” she said. “Not much but—”

  “Done.” He nodded again. Carefully propped the sledgehammer against the ruins of the barn and slid off his gloves. She watched all of it, every inch of flesh he revealed with a starving heart. “What else?”

  “I want to go into the city every once in a while, stay someplace fancy.”

  “Have dirty hotel-room sex?” he asked, with an erotic light in his eyes that utterly thrilled her. This stopped being so scary. So life threatening. A steady stream of joy ran through her, eroding the rest of her delusions and she felt like laughing. She felt like sunshine and music and cold glasses of milk. This was everything good and right.

  “Done. Very done,” he said. “We’ll go lots. What else?”

  “Family dinners with the Mitchells,” she said, just to see how far he would go.

  “I don’t think we can keep them away,” he said. “What else?”

  She scowled at him, having been prepared to fight. Having been prepared to be disappointed. “For such a tough negotiator, you’re pretty easy,” she said.

  He crouched in front of her and her heart beat so hard it felt like her whole body pounded. For him. For Jonah.

  “I’ll give you anything you want. My only deal breaker is that I want you, and Helen and those six kids for the rest of my life. If you can’t promise me that, then I walk.”

  His blue eyes pinned her to the spot.

  “Why?” she whispered, her great shame spilling out of her, all the skeletons and neuroses, coming out to play. “Why me?” she clarified, unable to reach for him just yet.