by Shirley Jump
He didn’t fit on these streets. He never really had. The problem was, he had no idea where he fit anymore.
He turned right, then left, then another left and down to the end of a cul-de-sac. The Barlow home sat in the center of the curve, a battered basketball hoop mounted on the garage and presiding over the driveway. Jack stopped the truck a few feet away and just stared at the house, debating. What had seemed like a good idea earlier now made him want to turn around and put the pedal to the metal.
Then he saw Meri pull into the driveway, park and step out of her Toyota. She’d swept her hair into an imperfect bun, leaving a few tendrils dancing across her cheeks. She’d changed out of shorts and a T-shirt into a pale blue sundress that skimmed her calves and hugged her figure. He waited, sure she would look over and see him, but she just shifted a big white bowl into her hands, closed the car door with one swift bump of her hip, then strode up the walkway and rang the bell. He waited a second, to see if Ray got out, too, but the older man wasn’t in the car. Must have decided not to come. Jack couldn’t blame him. Heck, if he hadn’t been related, he wouldn’t be here either.
That was a lie. He was here because he knew Meri was coming. Because as much as he thought he had put her in his past, there was something different about this Meri, something intriguing, something that hadn’t been there before. Something he wanted to explore.
In the end, it was the casual yet sexy bump of her hip that had him putting his truck in gear, pulling into the drive and parking behind her aging sedan. He hopped out and hurried up the walk, coming up behind her before the door opened. “Here, Meri, let me take that bowl for you. And your car is running rough, so I can take a look at it tomorrow if you want.”
Just call him Sir Galahad.
Meri turned to him, her eyes hidden by sunglasses. “Jack. You came.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Surprised, that’s all. I thought...well, Luke said...” She shook her head and a smile curved up her face. Meri had always had a stunning smile, the kind that filled her face with sunshine. He liked that smile. Liked it a lot. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He wanted to ask if she really meant that, but the door opened before he could speak, and there was a flurry of joy from his mother and her three dogs. The muddle of mutts surged forward in a burst of barking and tail wagging. Jack’s mother opened her arms and drew both of them into a quick hug.
“Meri! Jack!” Della Barlow exclaimed. “Oh, my, you all are a sight for sore eyes.”
“Mama, you just saw me last week.”
His mother drew back and gave him a light swat. “It was three weeks ago, Jackson, and one would think you were living on the other side of the moon, considering how often you come around anymore.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“And I’ve been mourning all those empty chairs around my dining room table. My Lord, this house does echo without you boys around.” Then she brightened. “But they won’t be empty tonight. I’ve got two of my three boys home, and company I haven’t seen in a long time, and that is good enough for me. Come on in before dinner gets cold.”
Jack trailed behind his mother and Meri, who kept up a lively conversation with Della about the meal and the salad Meri had brought as the women headed down the hall and into the kitchen. Jack detoured to the parlor—though over the years the formal parlor had become more and more like a man cave than anything from a Margaret Mitchell novel. Della had tried to hold onto the space for a long time, insisting it was good for entertaining. When she realized most of the people who came to the Barlow house congregated around the food, she let her husband have his space. He’d filled it with leather reclining sofas, a big-screen TV and a coffee table that Della said looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the finish.
Bobby Barlow got to his feet when his son entered the room. He was a tall man, though his posture was stooping a bit with age. He still had a fit, trim body and sinewy, muscular arms from years of working on cars, repairing their engines and buffing out dents and scratches. Jack and his older brother, Mac, had worked almost every summer for their dad, starting with fetching tools. Luke had never been very good with engines, so it was the other two Barlow boys who became Bobby’s right-hand men. Until Jack grew up and went in the military and Mac went off to become a too-busy-for-family CEO, as evidenced by his absence tonight. Luke must have only had time to drag one recalcitrant brother home.
This past spring, Bobby had had a knee replacement that had kept him sidelined for several weeks. Jack had stepped in. Now, looking at his father, he wondered if Luke was right that Bobby wanted to retire. Dad seemed happy here, in his recliner, without the stress of the business on his shoulders. He’d gone fishing several times this year, and had started taking walks with Della as part of his knee rehabilitation. Jack reminded himself to talk to Mac about the garage. Maybe the two of them should take it over for Dad.
You love working outside, making things, building things. Why not do that instead? You gotta start taking some steps forward, Jack, so you’re not stuck in Neutral forever. Start a business. Get some business cards. Get an appointment book and put something in it besides be a miserable ass today.
Maybe Luke had a point.
“’Bout damned time you got here,” Bobby said as Jack walked in the room, but his words lacked any punch. He reached out and drew his youngest son into a quick, tight hug.
“Sorry, Dad. I was busy working on Ray’s cottage.”
Bobby waved that off. “I’m not mad. And anything you do for Ray is good with me. My God, that man is practically family. No, I’ve been waiting for you because I need someone to tell your brother he’s an idiot.”
Jack grinned and turned to Luke. “You’re an idiot.”
Luke scowled. “Just because I put a few bucks on Duke doesn’t make me an idiot.”
“It does when my Tar Heels are playing. Everyone knows North Carolina has the best pitcher in the country.” Bobby sat back in the recliner and popped out the footrest like an exclamation point.
“Is that why they’re oh and six this season so far?” Luke popped a couple nuts from the bowl on the coffee table into his mouth.
Bobby threw up his hands. “See what I got to deal with? Makes me seriously question your DNA, Luke.”
Jack chuckled. “I repeat, Luke, you are an idiot. Never argue with your future inheritance.”
“True. That ball cap collection should make me at least ten dollars richer on eBay.”
Bobby tossed a pillow at Luke. “That’s it. You’re out of the will.”
“Again? That makes three times this month.” Luke grinned, then waved to the seat beside him on the sofa. “Have a seat, you traitor, and watch Duke make me a richer man.”
Jack settled into the leather cushion. The sofa molded around him like a glove, begging him to stay longer, to make himself at home. Still, Jack remained tense, uneasy. He faked a smile and feigned interest in the game. His brother and father parried gentle digs like tennis players, but Jack mostly stayed quiet. He noticed his father glancing over at him from time to time, concern filling the spaces in his face, but Bobby didn’t say anything.
Jack was on the edge of the seat, about to leave, sure he couldn’t take one more minute in an environment that had once been comforting and instead had become a heavy blanket of expectations, when Meri walked into the room.
In an instant, the tension in Jack’s chest eased. He drew in a deep breath and caught the faintest whisper of Meri’s perfume. Cherry and almonds. Sweet and soft, all at once.
And nice. Very, very nice.
“Dinner is served,” Meri said. “And Della told me to tell you that you three are invited to the table, as long as you behave like gentlemen and not cavemen.”
“Your mother spoils all the fun,” Bobby grumbled, but he did it with a smile.
Of all the couples Jack knew, his parents were two of the happiest people he’d ever seen. Even after almost forty years of marriage, they held hands in the movies and exchanged kisses in front of their kids. Almost gave Jack hope for his own future.
Almost.
Meri took a seat on the far right side of the dining room table. Jack’s parents took the seats on either end, and Luke headed for the seat next to Meri. He put a hand on the back of the chair, then shot Jack a just-kidding grin and circled over to the other side of the table. Jack scowled. Even his brother was a damned closet matchmaker. Jack settled in beside Meri and tried to quell the silly leap of joy in his chest when she shot him a quick smile.
Jack reached for the bowl of biscuits, but his mother leaned forward and tapped him on the wrist. “Gratitude before gluttony, Jackson.” Then she nodded toward her husband. “Robert.”
“Why is it you only call me by my given name at dinner, Della?”
“Because a family meal is a solemn occasion.” She waved toward her husband. “Grace?”
His father clasped his hands, bowed his head, and the others followed suit. “Thank you for the food on our table, the love in our hearts and the beautiful but stubborn woman I married, who keeps it all together and keeps me in line. Amen.”
Della’s amen came with a schoolgirl giggle and a slight blush. “All right, everyone, let’s eat.”
When Jack had arrived at his parents’ house, he’d planned on eating and leaving as fast as possible. But as the conversation around the table rippled like a wake from a boat, he began to settle into the comfort of being home, in familiar surroundings, with familiar people, for the first time in the year he’d been home.
“You’re going to tell me this is all healthy?” Bobby said.
“It’s as healthy as I can make it.” Della smiled. “And don’t you tell me health food is akin to eating roadkill, Robert Barlow. I’m aiming to make sure you stay around a good long time, driving me crazy.”
“So you can stuff me with cauliflower and hang me on the mantel.” The words came out as a grumble, but he dished up an extra helping of the faux potatoes anyway.
“Meri, I’ll be sure to fix a plate for your grandfather. It’s a shame he couldn’t come.”
“He’d sure appreciate it, Mrs. Barlow. Grandpa really wanted to be here, but he overdid it today,” Meri said. “He was tired. I told him to rest instead of coming to dinner. Though I do hope you invite him again sometime. It’d be good for him to get around other people.”
“I was just telling Jack that Ray is practically family. Hell, I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known my own name,” Bobby said with an affirmative nod. “Good man, your grandfather.”
“He’s had a hard time since my grandma died,” Meri said. “I think that’s why he let his health go, which led to the heart attack. But now he seems to be coming around, and doing much better.”
“I think it’s because he has you there,” Della said. “Ray always did have a soft spot for you, Meri.”
“Losing the love of your life...” Bobby shook his head. “That’s bound to send a man into a tailspin. I thank the good Lord I have my Della here with me. And I pray the three idiots I raised will come to their senses and settle down before I get too old to remember the names of my grandkids.”
“Don’t go getting me married off, Dad,” Luke said, putting up his hands, warding off the suggestion. “I’m nowhere near ready for that.”
“He has trouble committing to a brand of toothpaste,” Jack muttered.
“Speak for yourself, Mr. Never Got Over—”
From under the table, Jack kicked Luke before he could finish the sentence. “Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”
Luke gave his brother a bite-me grin.
“Boys, we have company, so quit acting like you left your manners rotting on the side of the road.” Della gave them the evil eye, then brightened as she turned to Meri and gave her a sweet smile. “Tell me, Meri, what have you been up to in the years since you left Stone Gap?”
“A whole lot of nothing, my mama would say,” Meri said with a shrug, as if the remark didn’t sting, but Jack swore he saw a flicker of sadness on Meri’s delicate features. “Which means I dropped out of pageants and went to work on the other side of them instead.”
“The other side?” Luke asked. “If that means helping the girls change in and out of their dresses, I’m applying for that job.”
His mother swatted him. “You are not too old to be sent to your room, Lucas.”
“Mama, you haven’t grounded me since I was fifteen,” Luke said, with the winning smile that had gotten him out of detentions and dishes. “That’s because I’m the charming one.”
“If you’re the charming one, what am I?” Jack said.
“The one we keep around to make fun of.” Luke forked up a big bite of roast.
Mama rolled her eyes, and bit back a smile. “Ignore my boys. Apparently, evolution takes a little longer on the male side of the Barlow family tree. As you were saying, Meri?”
“I went into photography instead. I started doing portraits and working at pageants and dance recitals when I was in college, but found I really loved landscapes and cityscapes.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Della buttered a roll, then added a slab of margarine to her faux potatoes. “Now that you’re back in Stone Gap, are you going to open a studio here in town?”
“Where’s the barbecue sauce?” Bobby said, glancing around the white expanse of table.
“There isn’t any,” Della said, then turned back to Meri. “I mean, if you’re staying, that is.”
“I’m here for a while,” Meri said, and Jack noticed how she deftly avoided the question about permanence. So how long was a while, exactly? And why did Jack care? “I’m here mostly to take care of my grandpa.”
“Well, if there’s one thing Stone Gap could use, it’s a great photographer. This is such a beautiful part of the country. We need someone who sees it the way the rest of us do.”
“No barbecue sauce?” Bobby said. He lifted the salt and pepper, peeked around the bread bowl. “How am I supposed to eat my pot roast?”
“Barbecue sauce has too much sugar, Robert. I made an au jus sauce instead.”
His father scowled. “It should be called Aw, jeez, that isn’t what I wanted.”
“I do it all for love, dear.” Della gave him a big smile, and that softened the edges of Bobby’s scowl.
“I didn’t know you became a photographer,” Jack said, turning to Meri, his dinner forgotten and growing cold on his plate. Of all the careers he would have thought Meri would have, being on the other side of a camera lens never even made the list. She’d loved taking pictures as a hobby, but he’d have bet a million dollars on Meri going into modeling or television work. “What happened to becoming Miss America?”
The room quieted, and everyone looked at Jack. Then at Meri.
She dropped her gaze to her plate and picked at the faux potatoes. “I never wanted to be Miss America. That was my mother’s dream.”
“Well, I think she’s beautiful enough to be Miss America,” Della said. “Always has been.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barlow.”
“Never seemed that way before,” he muttered.
Meri shifted to face him. “What are you saying, Jack?”
Damn it. He was in a foul mood—all this family togetherness and happiness had him missing the solitude of his cabin in the woods—and he was taking it out on Meri. Plus he was curious about the Meri who had returned, so different from the one who had left. The Meri he had thought would never be the kind of woman he wanted.
“Nothing.”
“Would anyone like some more mashed potatoes?” Della asked, hoisting the bowl.
“Don’t call
them mashed potatoes,” Bobby grumbled. “That’s false advertising.”
Della made a face at her husband. “When your cholesterol is no longer higher than the national debt, you can tell me what to call my potatoes.”
“Did you think I enjoyed being trotted across that stage like a prize pony?” Meri said to Jack.
He shrugged. “Never saw you saying no.”
What was he, some kind of sadist? Why couldn’t he let it go? Why did he keep acting like an ass, and effectively driving her away, like a virus he didn’t want to catch?
“Then I guess you didn’t know me that well, Jack. Or maybe you didn’t know me at all.” She shook her head and toyed with the beef on her plate. “Or maybe this is just some new side of you coming out that I don’t recognize.”
“Nobody recognizes me anymore,” he said, then he shoved back the chair, so fast it screeched a protest on the hardwood floor. “Especially me.”
He threw his napkin down and headed out the door, out into the warm June air, out to where he could breathe and think again. Except that damned panther fashioned out of guilt and regret stalked him like easy prey.
Chapter Eight
“What the hell was that?” The words left Meri’s mouth before she descended the first stair into the small yard that the Barlow house sat on. Behind the house lay acres and acres of woods, thick trees with dark leafy canopies. Home of forts and adventures and frog hunting with the boys when she’d been young, but now, with Jack standing like a sentry in front of the darkening forest, the woods seemed to carry a magical secrecy to them, as if the oaks knew something no one else did.
Jack didn’t turn around. “Nothing. Just go back to dinner.”
“You knew I hated those pageants. I told you a hundred thousand times how much I hated them.”
“Sorry.”
The single word, thrown to her like a bone at a dog, set off a spark inside of Meri. She marched down the lawn and stepped in front of Jack. He flicked a glance at her, then returned his attention to the dark, empty woods beyond them. “What is wrong with you? When did you become so...mean?”