Suddenly, her outburst became all about Wyatt. Oh, God. She’d hurt him because of the scars from her past. Wyatt wasn’t anything like Brad, yet she hadn’t been able to see past her own pain long enough to give them a chance. “I need to clear my head. I’m going for a walk.”
“Honey, wait. Let’s talk about this,” her mom called after her.
She shook her head and kept on going. Her hands fisted by her sides, she strode down the long gravel driveway to the two-lane country road leading into town. This was the path she’d always taken when she’d been upset as a teenager—like when she’d figured out she was pregnant. There ought to be a visible trail worn into the asphalt from all the walks she’d gone on back then. She inhaled deeply.
The scent of sweet grass and clover laced the air, and miles and miles of gently rolling hills stretched on forever to meet the darkening blue sky and the blazing orange of the setting sun. She continued on, her pace intense, trying to burn off some of the anger still thrumming through her.
About a mile down the road she finally began to calm down, and then it registered how good she felt now that she’d gotten everything out in the open. The tight knot of anger and sadness lodged in her chest had unwound, and she could think again.
She and Brad had been too young to fight the collective wills of their parents in any meaningful way, but she was a grown woman now. She knew herself, and she alone directed the course of her life. She stopped where she was and stared out over a ripening field of soy. If it hadn’t been for Wyatt, it might have taken her years to realize how much she’d matured.
Moments they’d spent together rushed to the forefront of her mind, his tenderness, creativity, intelligence, subtle humor . . . his sexiness. Wyatt was so great with Brady, always encouraging and caring toward her little boy. Tears filled her eyes, and realization swept over her with all the force of high tide. She loved Wyatt, and it was the kind of love that grew with each revelation about his personality, his character. He was a good man, solid, dependable, and she’d hurt him.
She turned and began walking toward home. Resolve stiffened her spine. Brady would be here with her parents for the rest of next week, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do with her child-free time. She’d seduce Wyatt, and then they’d talk. Or, they’d talk first, and then she’d seduce him? Either way, she’d explain she’d made a mistake, and she really did want to date him.
Gulp. Did she have the guts to pull it off? What if he turned her down? After all, she had broken his heart once already. What would prevent her from doing so again?
Kayla woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee. She stretched and checked the cot that had been set up in her old bedroom for Brady. It was empty, which didn’t surprise her. Yawning, she got up and stretched before grabbing clothes and padding down the hall toward the bathroom. Spurred by the scent of bacon, she took the quickest shower possible, dressed, brushed her teeth and tidied up in record time.
The sound of her son’s chatter from the kitchen brought a smile to her face. He loved his Gammy and Pops, and it would be great for him to spend a week on the farm with them. “Good morning,” she trilled, and then froze. Her mother-in-law sat at the breakfast bar next to Brady, while her mom stood in front of the stove, scrambling eggs in a large skillet.
“Good morning, Kayla. It’s good to see you,” Joyce said, her expression wary.
“It’s good to see you too.” Kayla moved to the counter, grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured herself a much-needed cup of coffee. Maybe the caffeine would wash away the guilt from last night’s outburst. Her in-laws loved Brady, and they’d always be a part of his life. It wasn’t their fault she’d been ill equipped to stand up to them when she was eighteen. “Smells good in here.”
“Breakfast is almost ready,” her mom said, glancing at her. “I called Joyce last night. Once your dad is finished feeding the critters, we’re going to have breakfast, and then he and Brady are going into town to the clinic to look in on a dog who had surgery yesterday.”
“OK?” She shot her mother a questioning look.
“The three of us,” her mom said, nodding toward Joyce, “are going to talk.”
Yikes. Her appetite disappeared. “Great.”
“It’s way overdue,” Joyce murmured. “There are a few things we need to clear up.”
Kayla swallowed against the guilt climbing up from the pit of her stomach to clog her throat. In a matter of seconds, she’d been reduced to an uncertain eighteen-year-old again, about to face yet another intimidating lecture—four adults against two scared kids. At least this time it would just be two against one.
Sighing, she took a sip of her coffee and leaned against the counter. She wasn’t that kid anymore, dammit. And this time she’d speak her mind, tell the truth and clear the air. In a respectful way of course, because that’s how mature individuals did things.
The sound of the front door opening, and her dad stomping his feet on the stoop drew her out of her thoughts. “Can I do anything to help, Mom?” she asked.
“Grab plates and put them on the table.” Her mom transferred the eggs to a serving dish and handed it to Joyce. Her mother-in-law got up and carried the ceramic bowl to the old oak kitchen table where Kayla had eaten her meals and done her homework her entire childhood.
Kayla went to the cabinet where the plates were kept, counted out the right amount and placed them at each place setting. The basket of cinnamon rolls already on the table brought Kayla’s appetite back. She was an adult now, well able to handle an uncomfortable conversation with other adults. Gah. I hope.
Her mom grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out a pan laden with bacon and slid the strips onto a platter. “Let’s eat.”
“Come on, kiddo,” she said lifting Brady off the bar stool. “Gammy made her super-delicious cinnamon rolls. We’re in for a treat.”
All through breakfast she worried about what the other two women at the table might throw her way during their talk. She snorted. Obviously eighteen-year-old Kayla insisted on sticking around.
“You OK?” her dad said, patting her back.
“Eggs down the wrong throat.” She gave a little fake cough. “I’m fine, thanks.”
He winked at her, his eyes sparkling. “Well, Brady, you ready to go check on our patient?”
“Yeah. Mommy, do you know what? Pops did surgery on a dog that had a . . .”—his brow scrunched—“structed bowl.”
“An obstructed bowel.” Her dad chuckled.
Brady bobbed his head. “He couldn’t poop, but Pops fixed him.” He climbed off his chair and carried his plate to the kitchen counter. “I’m going to be a vet like Pops when I grow up, and a comic book drawer.”
“A comic book illustrator, you mean. Drawers are where we keep your Spiderman underwear.” Kayla grinned and held her arms open. “Come here, you. I need a hug.” Her son obliged her, and then his two grandmothers also requested hugs.
“Know what, Grandma?” he said during his hug with Joyce. “My friend Wyatt is gonna miss me this week. He needed a hug too, and I jumped from my chair all the way across the room, and he caught me. He lets me wear his Superman cape sometimes.”
Joyce kissed his forehead. “Well, he sounds like a good friend indeed.”
“He is,” Kayla agreed. “Brady—”
“You don’t gotta tell me.” He shot her an affronted look before taking his grandfather’s hand. “I’ll mind Pops and keep my hands to myself.”
Her dad swung him up into his arms. “We’ll keep an eye on each other, right, grandson?”
Brady gave him a single, decisive nod and put his arms around his Pops’s neck, smiling at her from over her dad’s shoulder. Kayla’s heart filled, and her eyes misted.
Honestly, having Brady made up for all the crap she’d gone through with Brad. She pulled in a long breath, grabbed the coffee and refilled everyone’s cup before sitting back down.
“Your mom and I talked on the phone last night.” Joyce flashed her m
om a grateful look. “And I’m glad we did, Sharon. Thank you. This conversation is way overdue.”
And again . . . gulp.
“Dave and I owe you a huge apology, Kayla.”
“What?” She blinked. This was the last thing she’d expected to hear.
“We never should have pushed you into marrying our son.” Joyce huffed out a breath. “What makes the whole thing worse is . . . we did what we did for purely selfish reasons.”
“I don’t understand.” Kayla’s heart pounded, and her brain struggled to come back online after the shock of hearing the word apology. Joyce was apologizing to her?
“The fact that Brady joined the army right after you married was in no way your fault. That had been a bone of contention between Brad, his father and me for years.”
Kayla frowned. “Still don’t understand.”
“I know.” Joyce’s eyes glistened. “Ever since middle school, Brad insisted he wanted to go into the military like his uncle, whom he idolized. Of course his father and I were against the idea, and we argued about it frequently. We wanted him to go to college, get a good job and settle down near us. He was our only child, you see.”
“H-he never said a word about any of that to me,” Kayla stammered. “I mean, I knew he didn’t want to get married, but . . .” Honestly, they hadn’t gotten to know each other all that well in the few months they’d been seeing each other. Their relationship was more hormonal than anything else.
“Well, given the circumstances, the way we all forced the two of you together . . . As angry as he was, he wouldn’t have said anything to you about that, would he?” Joyce gripped her coffee cup. “When we learned you were pregnant, Dave and I thought our prayers had finally been answered. We hoped having a wife and child would change his mind about joining the army. We prayed the situation would convince him to stay here and settle down near family. We offered to pay for his college education, hoping that, too, might be an incentive for him to stay. After all, he had you and Brady to think about.”
“We all pushed you two too hard,” her mom added. “For different reasons, but it was still wrong.”
“Kayla, Brad’s death was in no way your fault. His joining the army was an act of defiance against us. It had nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t agree with that last bit.” She frowned. “I know for a fact he didn’t want to be married to me, and he really didn’t want to be a father. His act of defiance killed two birds with one stone, that’s all.” A weight lifted from her soul, and the resulting lightness almost made her dizzy. “All this time I believed you and Dave blamed me for . . . well . . . for everything, including getting pregnant.”
“No. Never. It takes two to make a baby. I’m sorry we gave you that impression. Our grandson is the light of our lives. You must know that, and we couldn’t be any happier to have you as a part of our family. Don’t ever feel like you have to stay away from Decorah because of us. That would break our hearts.” Her voice hitched. “We don’t get to see Brady nearly enough as it is. We’re all hoping you’ll consider moving back home eventually.”
And . . . more guilt and pressure added to the pile. “I promise to visit more frequently, but I really like living in the Twin Cities.” Not to mention the fact that the man she loved was there, just waiting to be seduced back into dating her. “Once I’m finished with my program, and I have a job, you can always visit us, you know. I’ll look for a place with a spare bedroom. There are lots of things to do in the Twin Cities.”
“If you’ll let us, Dave and I would love to be there for your graduation, Kayla.”
“Oh.” Believing the Malones saw her as the cause of their loss, she hadn’t even thought about inviting them. “Brady and I would love to have you there.”
“We’re all so proud of the way you’ve pulled your life together, and you’re such a great mother.” Her mom reached out and put her hand over Kayla’s. “Your dad and I owe you an apology as well. We should have backed off, let the two of you kids work things out for yourselves. No matter what, we support you. You can always come to us; you know that, don’t you?”
She nodded, tears threatening. “I’m glad we talked.”
“Yoo-hoo,” a woman’s voice called from the front door. “Anybody home?”
Thank you, Aunt Becky! All that needed to be said had been said, and now this emotionally charged conversation could come to an end. She had a lot to think about, but not while her emotions were so raw. “We’re in the kitchen, Aunt Becky.” Kayla rose from her place and started clearing the table.
“We’re good?” Joyce joined her, setting a handful of silverware in the sink.
“We are.” She smiled at her mother-in-law.
“We’re looking forward to the gathering tomorrow night, and we’re taking Brady for the day on Wednesday. We thought he’d enjoy going to the county fair.”
“He’d love that, but be warned. He’ll drive you ragged with the rides.”
Becky swept into the kitchen. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to take a look at those comic books. Hey, Sharon, Joyce, I haven’t interrupted anything, have I?”
“No, of course not.” Her mom flapped a hand in the air. “We were just having coffee and visiting.”
“I need to get going.” Joyce slung her purse over her shoulder. “We’ll see you all tomorrow. Can I bring something, Sharon?”
“A salad or fruit would be great.” Her mom grabbed the rest of the dirty dishes and brought them to the sink.
Relieved, Kayla waved good-bye as her mother-in-law left.
“I’ll clean up here,” her mom told her. “Go get your friend’s work, and we’ll all take a look. I’m dying to see his comic books too.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She patted Kayla’s cheek.
Kayla hurried to her room, debating whether or not to keep the last revealing episode hidden. She could always slip it in right before she gave the envelope to her aunt. Yep. She’d leave that one out for now. It would be hard enough as it was, to explain her uncanny resemblance to the Mysterious Ms. M.
Chapter Fourteen
“Thanks so much for all the information you’ve given me,” Wyatt said over his phone to the realtor. “I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Don’t take too long. The building is going to sell quickly. I already have several showings scheduled for next week.”
“Good to know.” He didn’t doubt it after hearing the listing price. He ended the call and hit his sister’s speed dial number. She picked up right away for a change. “Hey, Jo. I just got off the phone with the listing agent for this building. You won’t believe how low it’s going for.”
“Tell me.”
“A million and a half. The agent said the owners want a quick sale because of the building’s age and condition issues. If you take the third-story apartment, and all of the residents decide to buy, that’s only one hundred twenty-five thousand per unit. It would be crazy not to do this.”
“I agree. Do you want me to come over and talk to your neighbors with you? I know how hard it is for you to—”
“Nope. I need to do this on my own.” Wyatt needed to be bold, and Kayla would have to know he’d done this for her, because of her. He needed to show her and himself how much he’d changed these past few months. Before Kayla entered his life, he’d cut himself off from the rest of the world. She and her son had changed all that.
It was still early Saturday morning. He had time to create an informational flyer of sorts to hand out to his neighbors. He’d explain the difference between cooperatives, involving collective ownership through shares of stock in the building, and condos, which they’d each own outright.
He’d create a table with all the financial information, like the down-payment costs and the need to set up a general fund, and an LLC. Then, when his mouth went dry, at least he’d have something to hand to his neighbors, giving them all the pertinent information.
“Are y
ou still going to fill out the lease application for the empty place, Jo?” he asked.
“I don’t know if it’s necessary, or even if the apartment is still being offered in light of the impending sale. I’ll buy in. Can you talk to all of your neighbors before Monday?”
“If they’re in town for the holiday weekend, I think I can. Call Sam and Haley for me, would you? I need to do a few things before I knock on any doors.” By the time Kayla got home, he’d be able to present her with actual numbers, along with a list of who’d committed to stay and who hadn’t.
“If the current residents don’t buy in, we need to figure out how and if we’re going to do this on our own,” he continued. “Five percent down would come to twenty-five thousand each. I’d have to borrow from my retirement account.” Which meant he’d also have to pay it back. Another thing to consider. “I will if we’re all in this. We can at least scrape together the earnest money to make an offer. That will buy us time to talk to a mortgage broker.”
“It’ll be worth it, Wyatt. We’ll triple the value over the next few years. I’m excited about this.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s meet at your place Monday around lunchtime. I’ll bring Indian takeout. We can talk more, and by then you’ll have a better grasp on who is interested, so we’ll know our next step.”
“Good idea. I’ll talk to you later.” He ended the call and grabbed the notes he’d taken while talking to the realtor. Wyatt moved to the desk in his studio and turned on his computer. Steve Andrews had been very informative when it came to co-ops and condos, the money part and the pros and cons of entering into a venture like this.
Two hours later, with flyers in his sweaty hands, Wyatt climbed the stairs to the third floor. His heart hammered, blood rushed to his face, and he could hardly breathe. But dammit, if he wanted to get the girl, he had to do this. And if he didn’t get the girl? Well, at least he’d proved to himself that he could push through the shyness when needed.
He pushed off his hood. Symbolic, really. Kayla had told him he didn’t need to cover up, so he wouldn’t. Not today, even though he doubted anyone else in the building would even notice. Kayla would have to see what he did today, forcing himself past his shyness, for what it was: a courageous feat of superhuman strength—for him, anyway—meant to win her heart. If she didn’t, he’d explain it to her.
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