“I know.” Bridger looked guilty and ashamed.
“What happened?” Luke asked.
Bridger hugged his pillow. “Do I have to tell you?”
“You do. Nothing you tell me will make it right, but I would like to know.”
His son sighed. “I don’t want to say.”
“Was it about someone else?” Luke guessed. “Someone in this family?”
Bridger gave a small nod. “Yes. He wouldn’t stop saying bad things. I told him he was lying and he would be in trouble if he didn’t stop. He didn’t. He kept saying it again and again. He was calling you a name.”
Just as he’d suspected. He might not have jumped there with any other kid, but he knew Jedediah, knew his dad was a bully who had hated Luke since they were in school together.
“I kept telling him over and over to be quiet, that you’re not a murderer, but he just laughed and said I was probably gonna grow up and be a murderer, too. I’m not, Dad. I’m not.”
Luke’s throat ached with emotion. Damn it. He had suspected that. He hated so much that his son was exposed to this kind of ugliness from other children. “I know, Bridge. I’m sorry that happened.”
“I just wanted him to be quiet and stop saying mean things. But I shouldn’t have punched him. I know it was wrong and I told him sorry right after, but then he punched me harder, so I punched him harder, and then Mrs. Palmer came in and made us say we were sorry and sit apart from each other.”
Luke’s heart seemed to squeeze. “You don’t need to defend me, Bridger. I appreciate you trying to protect me, but it’s not necessary. We know the truth. It doesn’t matter what other people think, right?”
His words rang hollow. To kids, it mattered very much what people thought of them and their family. He remembered word getting around school after his father had been arrested for something or other and how ashamed he had been.
“Why do people call you that?”
He ran a hand over his son’s hair. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not true. The people who care about our family know it’s not true. Their opinion is all that should matter. Next time Jedediah says anything, just ignore him. Once he figures out he can’t get a reaction out of you, he’ll stop.”
“I’m sorry I got in a fight, Dad.”
“I know you were defending me and I appreciate it. You know that’s still not a good excuse for losing your temper and hurting someone else, right? If that had happened at school, you would have been suspended.”
“I know. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
After he hugged his son good-night, Luke turned off the light and closed the door.
He hated that his children had to bear the burden of their mother’s choices. That was the reason he had gone to Oregon, had forced himself to face her again.
He had to keep that in mind over the next few days. His discomfort was nothing when compared to making life better and easier for his kids.
* * *
“What do you mean, she’s going to be out of the office all day? We had an appointment.”
“I am aware of your appointment and the reason for it.” The voice of the district attorney’s assistant was brisk and cool. “I’m afraid we have to postpone. That’s why I’m calling. Ms. Torres had an unexpected family emergency and was called out of town over the weekend and then her return plans were delayed because of weather. She won’t be back until late this evening.”
Luke felt as if all his carefully laid plans were crumbling into dust. He did not want Elizabeth in town one more night. He wanted this done so she could be on her way and he could focus on enjoying Christmas with his children.
“I can put you on her calendar first thing in the morning. Will that work?”
What choice did he have? If the woman wasn’t there, she wasn’t there. He didn’t know what he could do about it. He’d filled his quota of dragging women back to town.
“First thing. Like, crack of dawn.”
“Her first available appointment is at 8:00 a.m.”
“Fine. Put us down for that.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix the situation.
He had hoped he would be able to clear the whole matter up and send Elizabeth packing by noon. Instead, now he was going to have to go tell her she would have to stick around Haven Point for another day.
* * *
Elizabeth studied the mantel, then reached to adjust the pine boughs she had brought inside, along with some winter berries and cuttings from the red-twigged dogwood she and Luke had planted together when they first moved here.
The sharp, sweet scent from the pine seeped through the room, making the stark, empty living room a little more homey. The house had only needed a few easy touches to bring it back to life.
Even in her solitary apartment in Brambleberry House, she had tried hard to celebrate the holidays, however she could. It had been the link to both her children and her own childhood, a time when she had been unreservedly happy.
At least the house didn’t seem so sterile now. It looked more lived in. Luke was an experienced contractor and had to know he would have an easier time selling something that was staged better.
The little house was showing the inevitable wear and tear of the last few years. Everything needed sprucing up.
If it were her house still, she would put a new backsplash in the kitchen, the easy stick-down kind. She would paint a couple of the rooms that looked dingy and tired, and she would even consider replacing some of the carpeting.
It wasn’t her house. Not anymore. She had given up any right to it when she had run away that last desperate night.
She pushed away the memories, thinking she should probably eat something. Luke said he would pick her up early. She had been up since long before dawn but hadn’t been able to bring herself to eat any of the yogurt or cereal she found in the kitchen. The bowl of soup she had enjoyed the evening before seemed a long time ago, but she was too nervous to eat.
Today, she would have to tell Luke the truth.
All of it. Every ugly detail. He would be there when she confessed all her sins and mistakes to the district attorney.
She didn’t want to do this. She wanted to stay here, tucked into the uncomfortable twin bed where she had spent the night, in the lavender room she and Luke had painted for Cassie.
She knew it was the right thing to do. But right was very different from easy.
She had to eat, especially because she needed to take her seizure medication, which didn’t sit well on an empty stomach, so she forced herself to eat some yogurt. She was toasting a slice of the homemade whole wheat bread she found in the cupboard when she heard a key in the door.
Luke.
Her stomach jumped with a strange mix of anxiety and undeniable anticipation at seeing her husband again.
She had dreamed about him the night before, of those first glorious months they had spent in this house when she had felt safe and warm and loved completely.
That was the reason she had awakened so early, not the uncomfortable bed or the sterile surroundings that no amount of greenery could really fix.
She ached for her husband and was filled with sadness and regret, remembering the love they had once shared.
“I’m in the...kitchen,” she called out.
A moment later, Luke walked inside. He looked big, tough, dangerous.
Wonderful.
She hadn’t forgotten him. She had carried the memory of his face and the children’s even when everything else had been a blank; it had only taken her a long time to figure out how they fit into her world.
“Morning. I...I think I’m ready. I need to finish...my toast.”
She felt tongue-tied, awkward, the words jumping around in her head like a tangle of paper clips, and she couldn’t s
eem to find the ones she needed. She had been doing so well in recent years with the dysphasia that had afflicted her after her brain injury. Seeing Luke again seemed to have jumbled everything up in her head again and the right words seemed as slippery as baby alligators.
“You can take all the time you want now. All day. You don’t have to rush. The district attorney canceled our appointment this morning.”
Luke did not look happy about that turn of events. Not at all. His eyes were the deep, tumultuous color of a stormy afternoon on the lake.
“Oh no.”
“She apparently had a family emergency out of town and ran into the same storm that hit us. But we are on her schedule first thing in the morning.”
She could tell the idea didn’t make him any happier than it did her. She wanted this cleared up.
“What...am I supposed to do all day here, then? Yesterday was...long here by myself.” She had finished her book a few hours after he dropped her off. She had more on her electronic reader but her eyes couldn’t focus on it for long stretches at a time.
“I guess you can do more decorating. What’s all this?”
She flushed, feeling stupid. What had seemed a good idea the evening before when she had been dying of boredom now appeared silly. Childish, even.
“The house needed...a little freshening up. It seems...sad. Empty. I thought you would have an easier time selling if it were staged...a little better.”
His brows rose in surprise and he looked around at the few holiday decorations she had made out of things she found outside.
“I appreciate that but I shouldn’t have a hard time selling it. Property in this area goes at a premium these days, especially now that Caine Tech has moved into the old Kilpatrick Boatworks. With values up, it made sense for me to build another house on the land I had and put this one on the market.”
It might make economic sense but she wondered whether the kids had struggled with leaving the only home they had ever known. She had no say in his decision, though. As he pointed out so bluntly the day before, she had in effect made him the custodial parent when she left. While legally she still had rights, morally it was a different situation.
She turned away to hide the emotion she was afraid he might see in her eyes. “I saw some paint cans...in one of the bedrooms. Were you planning to repaint before the house goes on the market?”
“That’s the plan, anyway, when I get around to it. I don’t know when that might be. This is a hectic time of year and I didn’t expect to be driving to Oregon and back before the holidays. On the other hand, I guess it beats being in jail over Christmas.”
She flushed, feeling guilty all over again at everything she had set into motion that fateful night. “I can paint for you, if you’d like.”
He frowned, showing those new lines in his forehead that made him look ruggedly distinguished. “No need. I’ll get to it eventually.”
“Why wait? I don’t mind painting. I...enjoy it, actually.”
“You enjoy painting?”
It was much like gardening, taking a fresh canvas and reinvigorating it, bringing life and beauty to something tired.
“There’s something...satisfying about giving something a fresh coat of paint, hiding the inevitable dings and scrapes on the wall and helping it...look new again.”
He gave her a careful look and she knew she was blushing again, hoping he didn’t try to suss out any hidden meaning in her words. Painting was simply painting. It wasn’t a metaphor for anything else.
After a moment, he shrugged. “Knock yourself out. You can find paint supplies in the shed, where we always used to keep them.”
“I checked there earlier but it was locked.”
“Oh. Right. Um, the code is the same. I never changed it. Your birthday, my birthday and our anniversary.”
He had kept her birthday as part of the security code to the shed? Did he think about her each time he punched it in?
She had thrown away the life they could have had. Being back in Haven Point was one painful reminder after another.
Though she sensed it was a futile effort, she decided to press him one more time about letting her see the children while she was here. “Since I will be here an extra day, I would love the chance to see the...children.”
His features turned hard. “Did you think my answer would change overnight? No. Still no.”
“I only want to see them. You don’t even have to tell them who I am. I doubt they remember the person I used to be and I...I don’t look the same.”
He hadn’t said anything about all the plastic surgery she had undergone. She had to wonder what he thought about it. Did he think she had done everything purely for cosmetic reasons?
“They will have no idea I’m their mother. You can introduce me as...a friend.”
It was a pitifully weak suggestion, but she was desperate.
“Doesn’t matter what they know. It’s what I know that matters. You’re not meeting them. You’ve done enough to hurt them for the rest of their lives. Abandoning them when they were still babies is going to leave scars on their psyche they will never recover from. I’m not letting you back into their lives to hurt them all over again.”
“I only want to see them,” she pressed. “What’s the harm? Just for a moment.”
“No.”
Suddenly, she was angry. More furious than she had been in a very long time. She was angry at the circumstances, angry at herself certainly, but also angry at Luke for shutting her out.
“You’re not being fair.”
She should never have said the words. They were born out of a place of fear and sadness, but she knew as soon as she said them how wrong they were.
His dark expression confirmed it. “Fair?” he said, his voice low and intense. “Let’s talk about fair.”
“Luke—”
“No. I would like to know what the word means to you. Was it fair that you left me to think you were dead for seven years, that you left me to mourn you all this time?”
“No,” she said, her voice small.
“Was it fair that you left me to raise the kids by myself? To be the only one there for the first day of kindergarten, the first lost tooth, Bridger’s first steps?”
She shook her head. What else could she do?
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair. For seven years, I’ve grieved for you, thinking the woman I loved had chosen to end her life. Now, suddenly, I have to accept the idea that that woman didn’t die. She just chose to leave and start a new life without us.”
The vast pain in the voice of this man who was always so contained with his emotions shocked her, left her reeling.
She had caused so much hurt. Even these past few years, when she had finally begun to heal, she should have come forward and told him everything. She had shown courage in other aspects of her life. She knew she had. So why had she been so very afraid to face Luke with the truth?
She had absolutely no right to be angry with him for not letting her see the children. No right. This was a situation she had created herself.
“What’s not fair is the miserable position you put me in,” he went on, his voice fierce. “For seven years I’ve been sentenced to a hellish limbo, with half the people in town believing I killed you and disposed of you in some hideous way. I couldn’t call myself a widower because I didn’t know if you were really dead. God knows, I couldn’t move on and date someone else, even if any other woman in Lake Haven County would ever twice look at a man like me, who might or might not have murdered his wife.”
Her throat closed with emotions, regret and sorrow and guilt. She had to clear them away to speak. “Why...why didn’t you try to have me legally declared dead?”
“Because I didn’t want to.” The raw emotion in his voice seared through her.
“Luke.”
His
name. That was all she could manage through the tangle of emotions.
He gazed down at her, his expression almost...tortured.
One moment he was skewering her with his furious expression; the next he threw his arms around her, yanked her toward him and lowered his mouth to hers.
Shock held her motionless for only a moment. Then the sheer delicious glory of being in his arms again overwhelmed her. She wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss with all the pent-up longing she had held inside her these long years of being alone.
The heat that had always been between them flared, wild and unrestrained. His mouth was hard on hers, fierce, demanding. Delicious. There was no trace of tenderness, only anger and loss, betrayal and sorrow and desire, all twisted together.
When he finally yanked his mouth away and released her as if she had scorched him, she stumbled backward, her knees drained of all strength. Her soul felt drained, too.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked, his voice raspy and low. “I never stopped hoping you would come back. Even when I was ninety-nine percent certain you were dead, that tiny one percent of hope wanted desperately to be wrong.”
He released a heavy breath and she watched in fascination as he tucked away any trace of emotion, becoming self-contained and expressionless once more.
“Do what you want to the house. Paint or don’t paint. I don’t care. This place means nothing to me anymore. The kids and I have moved on and are happy in our new house. I just want this one sold and out of my life.”
Like her. She meant nothing to him either, that wild, heated kiss notwithstanding. She did her best to blink back tears but was afraid he still saw them.
“I don’t know how much I can do in only one day but I’ll...I’ll try.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue but finally gave her one more long look and headed out the door.
After he left, Elizabeth touched her lips, the long-familiar taste lingering there. Oh, how she had missed him.
She still loved him.
Had never stopped.
She collapsed onto the sagging sofa, unable to contain all the emotions raging through her. She loved Luke and wanted what was best for him. That could never be her. Not then and especially not now, with all her baggage.
Coming Home for Christmas Page 8