Harlequin Heartwarming March 21 Box Set

by Claire McEwen

  What would he say to them now? There’d been so much else he’d kept hidden. His worries and fears, all battened down under his tough-kid exterior. And then he’d left without a word, and stayed away so very long.

  Guilt had him planning to pass by their white picket gate one more time. But as he drew closer, he saw Tom Fielding standing there waiting for him, and knew it was too late to run away again.

  “That’s a nice dog you’ve got there.” Tom stepped through the gate and stopped in front of Rex, holding out his knuckles for the husky to snuffle. Rex’s tail became a blur of wagging fluff. Animals had always loved Tom. The old veterinarian glanced up at Wes, his blue eyes still piercing under his gray brows. “Were you going to come in and say hello? Or just walk on by again.”

  Tom’s demeanor seemed friendly, but his words landed hard. Wes knew he’d been caught with his cowardice on full display. “I was working up the nerve. It’s been a long time.”

  “Emily stopped by this morning to let us know you were here in town. Meg and I were hoping to see you. Why don’t you come on inside and we can catch up?”

  That was encouraging. When Wes had imagined seeing them after all these years, he’d envisioned a scolding full of harsh words that he well deserved. “I’ve got Rex with me.”

  Tom shrugged. “We’ve got a standard poodle with a big attitude. Mavis can hold her own with this guy.” He tilted his chin toward the front door. “You like coffee? We’ve got a fresh pot.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.” Wes followed Tom up a stone path that felt more like thin ice. Tom had always seemed like a giant to him, a larger-than-life figure. Now they were equal height, and Tom’s age showed in his silver hair and the slight stoop of his shoulders under his blue polo shirt. They’d been cordial so far, but there was a chasm of time and hurt between them. It was up to Wes to find a way to bridge it.

  “Meg?” Tom pushed open the front door. “We have a visitor!” A dog started barking, somewhere in the back of the house.

  At the first sight of Meg in the doorway, Wes’s throat closed and he swallowed hard. Her warm smile was just as he remembered—kind. The lines around her eyes mapped all the joy and worry she’d felt over the years. Her hair was white now and hung past her shoulders, and she had the top part of it pulled back neatly. She wore dark blue pants and a pretty, blue flowered shirt. Her hands came to her hips as she stepped onto the front patio. “Weston Marlow, just when did you become a cowboy? And where in the world have you been all this time?”

  There was a quaver in her voice, and knowing he’d put it there brought up the shame that had kept Wes away from Shelter Creek all these years. “I’ve been a lot of different places,” he managed. “I always wanted to come back here.”

  “And who is this?” She smiled down at Rex, who’d sat next to Wes and was leaning on his leg.

  “Rex. I can leave him outside, if you’d prefer.”

  “Let’s see what our dog has to say about it. Excuse me.” She disappeared for a moment, then a huge gray standard poodle came bounding out the front door, barking excitedly. “This is Mavis,” Meg said.

  Rex, good boy that he was, stayed seated while the poodle quit barking, sniffed at him and then danced her welcome.

  “Enough, Mavis. Sit.” The poodle sat immediately at Tom’s command. “I think they’ll be fine together. Let’s go inside and have that coffee.”

  Wes took off his hat and Meg ushered him and Rex into the living room. The scent of lemon floor wax and firewood stacked on the stone hearth took Wes back in time. The furniture was new, the old worn denim couches he remembered replaced by more formal pieces. Still, when Wes sank into the armchair Meg indicated, it felt like home. Rex lay down on the colorful rug at his feet and put his head on his paws. Mavis the poodle flopped onto a dog bed near the fireplace, keeping a watchful eye on Rex.

  Meg and Tom left for the kitchen to get the coffee, though more likely to confer about what in the world to do with him. Wes looked around the room. The clock on the mantel was the same, as were the figurines in the china cabinet. The room was nicely decorated but cozy—a place where you could put your feet up on the leather ottoman and get lost in a good book.

  The moment he’d first entered this house, his third stop in the foster care system, he’d sensed that this place was different. Not a group home, or the kind of foster home that felt like a boarding house, where kids came and went and all the stuff the foster parents gave you had been used before.

  Meg and Tom’s home had been simply that. A home. Their family was just a regular family that happened to have space for one more. His first night here, Meg had asked him to help put the food on the table and he’d inhaled the rich aroma of her good home cooking and wanted to cry with relief. As if in response to the memory, tears stung now and he blinked them away.

  Tears were self-pity and that never helped. He had to focus on what he’d come here to do—give Meg and Tom an apology. He owed Emily that, too, though from the look on her face at the feedstore earlier, he wasn’t sure she’d ever give him a chance.

  Even if she did, could he do it? Or would he stand there, stumbling over his words like he had this morning? She’d been so pretty when they were young, but she was absolutely beautiful now. Fierce in her movements, like she was going to get a lot accomplished and you’d better get out of her way. Her hair had thickened and darkened and tumbled in honey waves down her back. Her face was fresh and scrubbed of makeup, of artifice. Fine lines recorded a history he wished he could learn.

  Meg came in with her coffee and an extra mug for him. “Do you still take milk, no sugar?”

  His emotions clogged up his throat this time. She’d remembered such a small detail about him. He nodded and took the coffee. It was in a mug with a dog on it, a basset hound who looked kind of sheepish. Just about the way he felt right now, actually.

  Tom and Meg sat side by side on the couch, their coffee mugs in hand. “Thank you for having me in to visit,” he told them.

  “How does it feel, coming back to Shelter Creek?” Of course Meg would start by asking how he felt. Her heart was as generous as he remembered. Wes cleared his throat.

  “Strange. Familiar, but not really. The whole town looks sort of fancy now.”

  “We get a lot of tourists nowadays,” Tom said. “Folks have prettied the place up for them.”

  There was a lull and Wes knew it was up to him, the uninvited guest, to keep the chat going. But did he make small talk? Or jump right into his long list of apologies? He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Took the easy route. “So, Tom, do you still have your clinic?”

  Tom shook his head. “I retired a few years ago. Emily took over the business.”

  Uh-oh. If he’d had a plan when he’d started driving here, which he really hadn’t, it was that Tom would find a way to forgive him and invite him to work in his practice. But with Emily at the helm…it wasn’t clear if she ever wanted to speak to him again. Let alone hire him.

  One thing at a time. He had to get to the real reason he was here. “I owe you both an apology,” he blurted out. “For leaving in the middle of the night, after four years of your kindness.”

  Meg looked at him and he thought those might be tears glimmering in her eyes. Great. Show up here unannounced and make her cry. He was off to a good start. She didn’t say anything, though. Just waited for him to go on.

  “I told you, I think, about my little brother, Jamie, and how he went to live with my uncle in Pittsburgh.”

  “We wanted him to come live with us,” Tom said. “But the social worker told us if there were family members who would take him, he had to stay there.”

  “That’s the law,” Wes couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. “But in this case, the law failed. I got a letter from Jamie, when I was still living here. He said our uncle and aunt were hurting him, keeping him out of school and treating him lik
e some kind of servant. He begged me to help him get free.”

  Meg gasped and set her coffee down on an end table. “Wes, you should have told us.”

  “Looking back, maybe I should have. But I was pretty sure you’d want to get the social workers to look into it. Jamie was afraid if you did that, Social Services would give my uncle and aunt a warning. Try to educate them about good parenting and all. He knew they’d just hurt him worse if they found out he’d complained.”

  Wes leaned over to pet Rex’s head, taking comfort in the dog’s soft ears and thick fur. It was too hard to look at Meg or Tom and see the pain in their eyes. “I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay here and live with you. But I couldn’t leave Jamie there. So I packed my stuff and I left. Hitchhiked into Santa Rosa and caught a bus across the country.”

  Had the clock in here always ticked this loud? Meg and Tom were holding hands now, their fingers curled together in solidarity. They’d stood together through whatever hurt he’d caused that night, and they’d stand together now.

  Idly he wondered if he’d ever have a relationship like that.

  Tom broke the thickening silence. “What happened next?”

  Wes swallowed hard and went on, “When my bus arrived in Pittsburgh, I waited until dark. Then I walked across town to my uncle’s house. By the time I got there it was probably about two in the morning. I climbed up to Jamie’s window and helped him pack some things and we ran away.”

  “Where did you go?” Concern etched a furrow between Meg’s brows.

  “We ended up in Houston. I didn’t really have a plan, but when Jamie and I got to the bus station that night, the Houston bus was about to leave. They had room for two more. I knew Houston was a big city where I might be able to get work, and we had no connection to it. Who would think to look for us there?”

  Tom shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t quite take it all in. “Where did you live?”

  “We rented a garage apartment from a family that didn’t have much more money than we did. They were new immigrants—they didn’t speak a lot of English—so they didn’t ask many questions about where our parents were.”

  “But what about school?” Meg was a former teacher. Of course she’d think of that.

  “When school started in the fall, I’d turned eighteen. Legally an adult, right? Jamie was going into fifth grade. I told the lady in the office that my parents had passed away and I was Jamie’s guardian. When they asked for school records, I told them he’d always been homeschooled. It was a big, crowded campus in a rough neighborhood. They didn’t worry too much about a quiet kid like Jamie who got all his homework done.”

  “And what about you?” Meg’s kind gaze met his. “Emily told us you became a veterinarian.”

  Wes glanced at Tom, strangely shy to admit the influence his former foster father had on him. But Tom was looking down at his coffee cup, seemingly lost in thought. “I did. At first I just worked, trying to get us on our feet. Mainly at restaurants, busing tables, washing dishes. But eventually I took a test and got my GED.”

  “Good for you,” Meg said.

  “Then I went to a community college and transferred to University of Houston. It took me five years, because I couldn’t attend school full-time, but eventually I got my degree. And then, when Jamie started college at Texas A&M, I got into vet school there. They’ve got a great program.” Pride swelled his chest. “I’ve been practicing for over three years now.”

  Tom finally looked up. “That’s quite a journey. I’m proud of you, Wes.”

  “Thank you.” Wes took a deep breath, ready to say the words he’d imagined saying so many times. “You set an example of who I wanted to become.”

  Tom leaned back on the couch and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m honored,” he said quietly. And then he added, “It feels good to know that we might have made a difference for you.”

  Of all the things Wes had wondered about the harm he’d caused Tom and Meg, it never occurred to him that they’d doubt their own influence or impact. “You have no idea. You two, and Emily, were the only real family I’d known. Of course you made a difference.”

  “It was hard to know, when we never heard from you.” Emotion heightened Meg’s voice. “We didn’t know if you were alive or dead. We heard from Social Services that your brother had gone missing, too. We could only hope that you were together, and that you were okay. That’s all we knew. That’s all we’ve ever known.” She stood abruptly. “Excuse me.” She walked out of the room.

  Wes could barely meet Tom’s gaze. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here.”

  “Or maybe you should have come back a whole lot sooner. Or at least sent a postcard,” Tom said dryly.

  His hope for some kind of prodigal-son moment was foolish. Wes saw that now. A pipe dream he’d held on to to get him through all those hard years. “I’ll go. I don’t know how long I’ll be in town for, but I’ll make sure to let you know before I leave.”

  “I thought Emily mentioned that you wanted to stay in Shelter Creek.”

  “I did.” Wes looked down at Rex, who was sprawled on the rug, completely oblivious to the tension around him. “I think that was a mistake. Y’all don’t need me around here, digging up old trouble.”

  “Maybe,” Tom said. He leaned forward, put his elbows to his knees and regarded Wes steadily. “Or maybe you’re just running away again.”

  The words hung between them, each one sharp and clear as ice.

  “I don’t want to cause more harm,” Wes tried to explain.

  “You said you’ve always seen Shelter Creek as your only real home. If that’s true, then you should stick around for a while and see if that’s really the case.”

  “But what about you? And Meg? And Emily?”

  “We all still care, Wes.” Meg had come back into the room and was leaning on the door frame between the living room and the hallway. “The love we felt for you didn’t end just because you left. But there’s hurt there, too, that needs healing. Just like with animals, healing takes time and effort and it isn’t always easy. But if you’re willing to give it a try, it can happen.”

  Wes shook his head, not in denial, but at the enormity of what she was saying. “I don’t know how to go forward.”

  “If you want work, go talk to Emily,” Tom said. “She’s looking for help with the practice. There are way too many animals in this community for one vet, though she tries to be there for everyone who needs her.”

  Wes tried to suppress his rueful smile. “I’m the last person she wants knocking at her door looking for a job.”

  “Are you a good veterinarian? Can you provide references?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you experienced with large and small animals?”

  “I am.”

  Tom drummed his fingers on his knee. “It’s Emily’s practice now. It’s up to her what she wants to do. But I know she’s been advertising for a second veterinarian, and you might be what she needs.”

  “I’m not what she wants.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Meg shrugged. “Why don’t you ask if she’ll take you on a trial basis? That way she can see if she wants to work with you. And you can see if you really want to stay here in Shelter Creek.”

  Their generosity in even suggesting this plan was so much more than he deserved. “Thank you,” he told Meg. “I’ll see what she says.”

  “I just want to know one thing,” Meg said. “Why didn’t you ever contact us? All these years…” Her voice trailed off and she went to sit beside her husband again.

  This was the part Wes most dreaded telling. How to explain what had no clear explanation? He took a sip of coffee and tried to gather his thoughts. “For the first few years, I was scared to. No matter how much I missed you, I worried that y’all were so law-abiding you might feel comp
elled to tell Social Services where I was. I didn’t trust a system that might put Jamie back in an abusive home.”

  Meg glanced at Tom, then back at Wes. “That poor little boy.”

  “He was terrified of my aunt and uncle,” Wes told her. “He had nightmares about them for years after I got him away.”

  “Where is Jamie now?” Tom asked.

  “London.” Wes smiled with the upwelling of pride that information always inspired. “He attended business school after college and he’s working for a big bank right in the heart of London now.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe it. My baby brother is a big fancy banker now.”

  “You must be so proud.” Meg’s smile felt like a warm blanket draped over Wes’s shoulders.

  “Proud and relieved.” He shrugged. “Seeing him off on that flight to England was the first time I felt like I was free to pursue what I wanted. And what I wanted was to come back here.” He remembered their previous questions. “I know I should have reached out once Jamie was eighteen. Once there was no chance anyone could take him away from me. I thought about it so many times. But I was ashamed of how I left you all.”

  “You’re here now, though,” Tom said. “So shame couldn’t have been the only reason.”

  Wes nodded. “The rest is a little harder to explain.”

  “Try,” Meg said gently.

  Wes clung to her kindness and stepped out on shaky ground. “When I came here to live with you, I had a thick skin. A shell that kept me somewhat safe, you know? And you all cracked that open and taught me how to care and how to feel. When I left here, I had to rebuild that shell again.

  “It got me through a lot of tough times. I worked many jobs, didn’t sleep much, pushed myself to the limit to make things happen for Jamie and me. I think I was scared that if I got in touch with you, that shell I’d rebuilt might crack, and I’d lose all my nerve.”