They almost looked eye to eye. If Tuck’s spine hadn’t succumbed to arthritis, they’d stand the same, six foot one. Emotions suddenly welled in Tuck, and he had to grip the other side of the door frame as well. “You’re a nice-looking fella. A bit on the thin side, but you got your mother’s angelic face.” Maybe he was saying too much. Maybe he was babbling. This was his grandson. “I’m happy you came.”
Rave glanced inside the house, his brows rising on a smooth forehead.
Tuck realized he was still blocking the door. “Oh, I’m sorry. Come in.” This time he stepped aside for the young man.
Eyes the color of a moonless night bounced around the living room. “You’ve got a lot of stuff here.”
Tuck had been clearing out, but it seemed the more he cleared, the more showed up. “I didn’t realize how cluttered it had become.” He grinned. “I like to go to auctions.”
Rave perked up a little. “Like car auctions?”
Tuck scratched his chin. “I got a few cars in the back barn. All need fixin’ but some humdingers.”
Rave seemed to be trying to hide a smile. “Humdingers, huh?”
“I mean, they’re not much to look at right now, but one day I’m gonna fix them up.”
Rave rested his arms over his chest. “One day?”
Tuck nodded and motioned for the boy to follow him into the kitchen.
“How long you had those cars you’re going to fix up?”
Tuck scratched his jaw. “Aw, about twenty years, I’d guess.”
A single laugh escaped Rave’s mouth.
“Are you in the mood for stew? Or I’ve got some steaks I can pull out of the freezer. Also got venison, neighbor uses my land for hunting, so he always brings me some venison steaks and sausage. I like to save the steaks for special occasions.”
“I’m not hungry. I stopped off at McDonald’s when I realized how far out in the boonies I was headed.” A moment later he added, “You feel like this is a special occasion?”
Tuck slowly turned to face him. Rave had sat down at his table, and although he was trying to keep cool, keep things light, there was a deep yearning in the boy’s eyes. Tuck lowered himself onto the seat across from his grandson. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, when he said, “It is for me, Rave. Years ago, Millie and I made peace with the fact that you were likely gone forever. Millie was your grandmother’s name. She died ten years back.”
Uncertainty entered Rave’s gaze. “Did you think I was dead?”
“We didn’t know what happened to you. We . . . we knew your mother wasn’t capable of taking care of you in the state she was in.”
“But you knew I existed. You knew my mother had me.”
Tuck swallowed. “Yes, I did. And I wish to heaven I’d have searched for you a long time ago.”
Rave stood. “Why didn’t you?”
Tuck’s hands were trembling. They needed to have this conversation, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t happen this quickly. Fear of losing the boy before ever getting to know him shot through his system and choked his words. “I spent a good portion of my life trying to help your mother. But she’d run. She ran her whole life, and the only thing I can pray for her now is that she found peace. Lord knows there was no peace in this life for her. Millie got sick after your mother left. I think it was mostly grief, but sometimes Millie wouldn’t even bother to eat. My focus went to getting her healthy. And I did, finally. But by then, so much time had passed, I had no idea where to start looking for you.”
The boy’s eyes glistened. Talk of his mother must be the one thing that cut straight to his heart. Rave spoke. “Mom told me you were dead. She told me she lost her mother at age twenty and her father just before I was born. Why’d she do that?”
“I don’t know,” Tuck lied. “Why’d your momma do most of the things she did?”
The kitchen was quiet except for their breathing. Outside, a gentle mountain wind swayed the trees, rustling their leaves. Tuck looked to the mountains beyond the kitchen for strength. He and those mountains had seen a lot of heartache. They’d weathered it all together. They’d manage this storm, too.
“Why now?” Rave said.
Tuck filled his lungs with air. “I had a dream that you were alive. And alone. You were laying on your side and it was your birthday and no one knew. You were holding a gold cross in your hand. I believe it had belonged to your momma.”
Rave turned white. Either the dream hit close to home, or the boy was coming down with a sudden flu. He studied the table between them. “I was alone for my birthday. But you’d already been searching for me for two weeks. That suggests you had the dream two weeks before it happened.”
Tuck leaned forward. “It really happened?” He’d assumed the dream was symbolic.
Rave’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. And maybe you know that because you had your voyeur spying on me through my bedroom window.”
Tuck shook his head. “No. That’s not . . . I sent Phil to speak to you after Vin Mitchum found you. Vin confirmed your identity and sent everything to Phil. Phil wouldn’t spy, he’s a . . .”
“A good man?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Said the same about you. Repeatedly. Like a warning.”
Tuck frowned. “Why would he be warning you? He didn’t mention that to me.”
“He was just looking out for you, Tuck. Scared the young thug would come and take advantage of the old man.”
Tuck rested his forearms on the table. “As long as you’re here, everything is as much yours as mine. You need the truck to go to town, take it. You need cash? The cookie jar is on the counter.” He pulled a breath before saying the rest. “You’re my grandson. My kin. Only family I got.”
“And how do you know I’m not here to take your money, rob you blind, and hit the road?”
Tuck gave him a dead-on stare. “It’s the same thing I told your momma. But her demons were too big to silence. I didn’t know how to help her. Didn’t even know how to help myself. But I loved her. Unconditionally.” And I love you the same. That was unspoken, but just as loud.
“You don’t know anything about me. So, you’re either too trusting or just plain stupid.”
Tuck threw his head back and laughed. “And for a young man planning to rob me, you sure seem concerned about my well-being.”
Rave grinned.
“My hope is in you, boy. If you let me down, you let me down.” He pointed a crooked finger and closed one eye. “That’s on you.”
A frown flashed across Rave’s face.
“But if I don’t take this opportunity to invest in my own flesh and blood . . . well, that’s on me. It took me a long time to make peace with how I handled things with your momma. Age and time have a way of humbling a man. I believe second chances are rare. I got one. I’m gonna do my best to not mess it up. Phil can mind his own business.”
Rave laughed again, easily, this time, like maybe the wildcat in him was starting to calm. “I can stay for a week or so.”
Tuck’s nose tingled. He brushed it with his fingertips, then rubbed his entire face because it seemed a tidal wave of nerve endings were throbbing there, pushing him closer and closer to tears. Relief tears. A week or two was all he could ask for. After all, this was a young man whose world had probably been built only to be ripped apart, then built again on hopes and promises from a mother who’d lie to get out of any situation. Tuck had long ago given up hope that Sharon had ever changed. If she had, she’d have found her way home. There could only be a nominal amount of trust in her child. Rave thought it a big deal that Tuck was opening his home. Much more important, and with infinitely more on the line, Rave was opening his heart. And that showed the kind of character Tuck hoped for. His throat was constricted when he said, “In that case, let’s get your things unloaded.”
Rave stepped out the front door and into the evening breeze. It was colder here in Tennessee—the wind had a chill he wasn’t used to. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t lik
e it. The green mountains and rolling hills. Everything was lush, not brown and dry, dead from the unforgiving Florida sun. He grabbed a hoodie and slipped it on. He had a few trash bags of stuff in his backseat and his guitar in the trunk. But a giant mound of fur appeared and practically knocked him off his feet. Before he could respond, large paws were on his shoulders, and a wet tongue was sampling his cheek.
“Bullet, get down!” Tuck used a voice so solid, it surprised Rave. Tuck grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck. “He doesn’t usually take to strangers so quick.”
Rave scratched the dog’s neck and head. “Nice to meet you, Bullet.”
When they’d unloaded the bags, Rave opened the trunk, which contained nothing but his guitar case. “This all of it?” Tuck asked.
“All I own.”
Something flashed across the old man’s face. Like some tragedy had just played out in his mind. Rave didn’t know what the big deal was. He had everything he needed. When he did need something, and he didn’t have it, the item usually found its way to him. It was easier to travel light.
Of course, he wouldn’t expect Tuck to understand that. He had boxes of small appliances that were older than Rave. And car parts. And magazines.
“You play guitar?” Tuck asked.
It had been Rave’s first love. It was the one thing that used to quiet even the worst of nights. And the loneliest of mornings. For years, it had been light in the dark, freedom in prison. He used his free hand to close the trunk. “I play a little.” But lately, he’d been playing less and less. Maybe he’d lost his passion for it, or maybe he’d just lost passion in general. He didn’t know. But neither scenario made him happy.
The screen door creaked as Tuck pulled it open. “I gotta get some WD-40 on those hinges.”
They carried his stuff upstairs, Tuck flipping lights on as they went. “You can have whatever room you want. I cleared some things out of this first room. It has a nice view of the lake, and at night you can open the window and get a good breeze. Also, it’s the biggest room. If you like it, we’ll clear out the rest of this junk. There’s another room next door, but it’s beside mine, and I snore like a skill saw.”
“What about the room across the hall?”
Tuck turned away as he said, “That was Millie’s sitting room. Stays locked.”
Millie and Tuck. Rave’s grandparents. It still felt surreal. Rave entered the room Tuck offered and looked around. It was a big space, but loaded. Old monitors and thousands of miles of cords peeked out from the boxes without lids. “What is all of this?”
“This here’s the computer room.”
“You know a lot about computers, Tuck?” Rave dropped his trash bag in the corner.
“Nope. Figured I’d start tearing into one and learn.”
Rave lifted the edge of a box and peered into the hopeless stack of out-of-date floppy discs and keyboards. “How’d that work out for you?”
Tuck scratched his head. “Well, nothing’s compatible. I swear, the computer industry must be moving at a fierce pace.”
Rave cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. You could say that.” He propped his weight on one of the stacks. “Did you know that the computers it took to put a man on the moon originally took up an entire room?”
Tuck nodded. “Makes sense.”
“And did you know that a computer with the same amount of capability now sits in virtually every household in the country?”
Tuck’s mouth fell open. “You don’t say.” He walked over to a box and looked in. “That’s almost unbelievable. I guess this stuff really is out of date, huh?”
“Yeah.” Rave dug a little deeper in the box. “I might be able to find a few things, but most of this is—”
“Big paperweights?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Well, at least I won’t feel bad about throwing them out. For now, whatever’s in your way can be relocated to the next room.”
Rave bit back a smile. “Or I could haul them downstairs and out to the trash.”
Tuck frowned. “You sure they’re no good?”
“Trust me.”
“All right, then. Tomorrow, that’s what we’ll do . . .” Tuck opened the bedroom window and wiggled the screen until it came loose. He maneuvered it into the house and set it by the wall. He grabbed the first thing he could reach—a narrow speaker—and held it up. “No good?”
Rave shook his head. “No good.”
Tuck tossed it out the window, and they both watched as it flew, a quivering cord following it like a kite tail until it slammed into the ground and broke into pieces. The old man gave Rave a crooked grin. “That was something.”
Rave rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected the old man to do something so spontaneous. Or violent. Cool. “It might be easier to carry everything down.”
“My way’s more fun.”
“No argument there.” Rave realized he was smiling. A real smile. An I’m-letting-my-guard-down-too-quickly smile. It didn’t matter. He’d made the decision to come, but he still wasn’t certain what he’d hoped to find by making the trip from Tampa to Barton. If things hadn’t happened the way they had—Ashley refusing to let him see Daniel anymore and losing his job at the café—he wouldn’t have come. And what did that really say about his character? If everything hadn’t gone wrong, he’d still be in Florida. Now he was committed to staying with Tuck for a week. He could do that. Sure he could. He wasn’t like his mother.
The truck was a newer-model crew cab with a sweet stereo system and CD player. It was also Bluetooth compatible, but Rave didn’t have a cell phone, so there was nothing for him to connect. What he did have was a stack of heavy-metal CDs. He’d popped one in at Tuck’s and drove with the wind from the air conditioner blowing in his face and the music pounding in his ears.
The weather was amazing in Tennessee. Still April, and things were blooming, but the mornings were cool, chilly even, to his Florida-acclimated system. By now, Tampa would be climbing into the mid-eighties by day and not much cooler than that by night.
He’d slept well last night with the window open and a breeze wafting over the bed. He’d slept well each of the nights he’d stayed at Tuck’s. This wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. In fact, Tuck seemed to constantly find opportunities to make Rave feel welcome. Feel like family. Today, he’d sent him to town in his Chevy.
In the six days Rave had been there, he’d even gotten to pluck at his guitar each night before bed. Tuck turned in early most evenings, leaving Rave alone with his thoughts. He’d mostly dwelled on Ashley and Daniel. He missed them so fiercely it could only be likened to slow death.
One thing had surprised him—playing his guitar and how it made him feel. Before coming to Barton, his guitar had always been his escape. He could strum a few chords, close his eyes, and drift away on the reverb and the tone and the melody. Disappear into the sound, the way the music filled the silence, the way it cocooned the mind. Here, he’d play, but his mind would stray, reliving the day, bouncing from moment to moment, making note of the things that mattered, allowing the rest to drift away. He’d found it odd and amusing that Tuck had an array of hot sauces in the fridge. Dutifully, he’d set them out each night at dinner, but he never opened a bottle. Tuck also wiped down the back slider door with a paper towel and window cleaner each day whether it was dirty or not. Funny little things Rave noticed, and he’d think on them as he played his guitar late at night.
“So, this is town. If that’s what you could call it,” he mumbled. The small town square was lined with some kind of flowering trees and rows of midcentury buildings. At the center was a fountain and wrought iron benches. On one corner sat a diner—not unlike the café he worked in back home. Home. Was that home? He’d been there longer than anywhere else. But home was a place where you had roots.
Rave had been at Tuck’s for less than a week, and the two of them had emptied the freezer stock of steaks and venison. They’d cleared his room of the electronic component
s, and Tuck had told him he could paint it if he wanted to. Right after that offer, Tuck had grown pensive, his hand falling to his chest, where it gathered the material of his shirt. The mention of painting a room seemed to sadden Tuck, so Rave asked why. But Tuck only gave him a distant smile and told him he’d never know what it meant to have Rave there. Later, he’d found Tuck in the hallway with his hand flattened against the door at the end of the hall. A key on a chain hung from the doorknob. Strange, Rave thought, to live alone but keep a room locked. That had caused the first hint of flight syndrome. It wasn’t safe to get too comfortable, especially with people who harbored secrets. He’d planned on leaving in a week. But, if he were honest with himself, he had nowhere to go. There was nothing waiting for him back in Florida.
This morning, Tuck had asked if he wanted to check out town and hit the grocery store. He’d said sure, thinking Tuck would drive. Instead, Tuck peeled off a hundred from the roll he kept in his front pocket and handed him the truck keys.
Rave shrugged, then mumbled, “Cool.” He grabbed the food list off the refrigerator door, which made Tuck smile, and left.
And that’s where the dilemma began. Should he buy food for one or for two? He’d been there six days. Was he going to leave? He should. He would. That’s what he decided when he entered the run-down grocery store. It smelled like old produce and meat. Everything looked fresh enough—really fresh, in fact. But the faint smell was nauseating. He put some fresh vegetables in his cart and meandered through the rest of the store. By the time he was checking out, the smell was gone. A guy his age stood at the checkout counter and another bagged the groceries.
The checker stopped pushing the items across the belt. “You new around here?”
Rave glanced up from his wallet, expecting a challenge in the guy’s eyes. Instead, he found a wide, toothy smile. “Yeah.”
“Nice truck. Tuck Wayne’s got a truck like that. Never heard it blastin’ music that loud, though.”
The grocery sacker laughed. “Never heard Tuck blasting music at all.”
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