Lost Down Deep

by Sara Davison

  They had reached the lamp post at the end of Nancy’s walkway. Ryan stopped and faced her, not letting go of her hand. “What are you sorry for?”

  “That this woman, whoever she is, hurt you. Although I seriously doubt it.”

  “That she hurt me?”

  “That she’s forgotten you. I’m sure, deep down, she remembers.”

  For a moment he didn’t speak, only searched her face with such intensity in his eyes—the same intensity she’d seen the first time he came into the bakery—that her knees, already slightly sore, went alarmingly weak. She leaned back against the post, grateful for its support. After a moment, he offered her a sad smile and the intensity was broken. “Maybe.”

  Summer swallowed. That look wasn’t anger, like she’d first thought, but sorrow. Grief, even. Obviously he’d cared deeply for this woman and she had hurt him, badly. A fierce protectiveness rose in Summer, shocking her to her core. How had she become so invested in this man’s welfare? In his happiness? He was practically a stranger to her.

  Although somehow he didn’t feel like a stranger.

  “Ana.” His voice was low and soft as he took a step toward her.

  She almost told him then, unable to stand him not knowing her real name. You don’t know him, Summer. He could be dangerous. The reminder that someone was after her streaked through her and she pushed away from the post. It was a little strange that this man had arrived in town the same time she did. For all she knew, he could have followed her here and was playing some kind of long game with her, getting her to trust him before he carried out whatever nefarious plans he had for her. “I should go in.” She yanked her fingers from his.

  This time he didn’t resist, only studied her for a moment before nodding. “All right.”

  “Thank you. I had a really good time tonight.” The words came out more stiffly than she intended. His shoulders deflated slightly and she mentally kicked herself. He hadn’t done anything to suggest that his intentions were anything but honorable. The head injury was making her paranoid, and that wasn’t fair to him. While it would be wise to keep her guard up and not reveal too much about herself too soon, she didn’t want to live in fear, either. She exhaled. “Should we try another place on Daphne’s list next week? My treat this time?”

  His face softened. “I’d like that.” He pulled her glove from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She took it from him. “And thank you for the first aid treatment.” Holding up her bare hand, she wiggled her fingers. “Still have all five.”

  “Good.”

  That slow smile crossed his face and it took everything she had not to lean against the post again. “See you at the coffee shop?”

  “Count on it.”

  She forced herself to skirt around him and make her way up the walk. When she reached the door and glanced back, he stood under the lamp post, watching her. He lifted a hand and she waved in response before slipping inside.

  As she hung her coat up on the tree in the front hall, she caught a glimpse of herself in the floor-length mirror on the closet door and wrinkled her nose. Between her stained shirt and the tiny rip in the knee of her jeans, the evening had taken its toll on her wardrobe.

  Still—she touched a finger to her lips—in spite of the multiple hits to her ego, and her attempts to convince herself otherwise, it was the best date she could remember having in her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jude strolled down the sidewalk, barely resisting the urge to break into the dance routine from Singin’ in the Rain as he walked past a lamp post. Approaching a dark Elantra, parked half a block down the street from Nancy’s place, he slowed. Was someone sitting in the front seat? When he drew slightly ahead of the vehicle, he glanced back. A man in a black hoodie looked up from his phone and nodded at Jude.

  Jude nodded back, glanced at the licence plate, and continued walking down the street. Likely no one with any connection to Summer or what had happened to her, but still, a bit odd. A vague disquiet ate away at the good mood he’d been in when he left her at the door. He’d been pretty sure no one had followed him to Elora, but someone could have tapped into the GPS on his phone without him knowing. The man looked relatively harmless, but not all criminals wore their propensity for violence like a tattoo across their foreheads. The world would be a much safer place if they did.

  He’d parked his car around the corner from Summer’s, knowing she’d be more comfortable walking than getting into a vehicle with him. After sliding behind the wheel, Jude tugged the phone out of his pocket and punched in a number.

  “Travers.”

  “Evan, it’s Jude. I’m calling about Summer.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “So far. I passed a guy sitting in a car half a block from her place a few minutes ago, though. Can you run the plates for me?” Jude gave him the information.

  “Hold on.” Keys clicked.

  A minute or two passed before Evan came back on the line. “Car’s registered to a Peter Díaz. No record. No outstanding warrants. Seems clean.”

  The muscles that had tightened across Jude’s shoulders since he’d seen the vehicle relaxed a little. “That’s good news. I was sure it was nothing, but I wanted to check.”

  “I don’t blame you. Anything else suspicious going on?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  Something creaked, as though Evan had leaned back in his desk chair. “She regain her memory?”

  “No, unfortunately. I don’t suppose a security detail has been approved for her.”

  Evan sighed. “Not yet.”

  “Whoever attacked her is still out there, Evan. He may even be here in town.”

  “I know that.” The chair creaked again, followed by the sound of a door closing. When he spoke, Evan had lowered his voice. “Look, Jude, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but internal affairs has been conducting an investigation for weeks now. We’re thinking somebody here could be on Mendoza’s payroll. It’s the only way to explain how he’s always a step ahead of us. We have no idea who, though, so I don’t want to send over just anybody to keep an eye on her.”

  Jude rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “That makes sense, but…”

  “I know. I don’t like her being this vulnerable any more than you do. Tell you what, there are a few guys here I absolutely trust. I’ll talk to them and we’ll try to have somebody there, if not all the time, at least driving past the places she’s staying and working once in a while, checking things out, okay?”

  Jude lowered his hand. “Okay, thanks.”

  “No problem. We’re on this 24/7. You know that.”

  “Yeah.” Jude exhaled. “I do.”

  “Good. I’ll be in touch the second anything breaks on the case, and you let me know if you spot anything else that doesn’t feel right, anything at all.”

  “I will. Thanks.” Jude disconnected the call and tossed the device on the passenger seat. He hadn’t gotten as much as he’d hoped for, but anything was better than nothing at this point. He only hoped it would be enough. He ran back over their conversation.

  Vulnerable. That had never been a word he’d associated with Summer. He supposed she was though, at the moment, even if she didn’t know it. And Evan was right, Jude didn’t like it. He’d never associated the word with his sister, either. And look what had happened to—

  Jude leaned forward abruptly and turned the key in the ignition. He wasn’t going there. Not tonight. Tomorrow, though, he did have somewhere he needed to go before he chickened out.

  Like he’d done every day for the past five years.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jude parked at the curb in front of the house with the gray siding and black shutters. Go in. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Just get out of the car, make your way up the walkway, and knock on the door. Something he’d done a thousand times in his life, on a thousand different doors. So simple, yet the thought of knocking on this par
ticular door was sending his stomach into loops like the craziest ride at an amusement park. What was the worst thing that could happen?

  That was the million dollar question. The answer to which he didn’t even want to contemplate. You’re a coward, McCall. Not a revelation. He’d come face to face with that truth about himself a long time ago. Sort of thought he’d dealt with that flaw in his character, but apparently not.

  He barely resisted the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel. Seriously, what was he, a three year old terrified of the bogey man beneath his bed? He was a man and it was high time he started acting like one.

  Disgusted with himself, Jude pried his fingers from the steering wheel and threw open the door of the car. The front walkway stretched in front of him like an endless road, the destination murky and unknown, cloaked in fog. Maybe it would be better if he came back another day.

  Enough. He forced himself to take a step. And then another. With each one, his knees weakened further. By the time he reached the small set of stairs leading up to the front porch, they appeared as daunting as the climb up the outside of a Mayan pyramid.

  Jude pushed back his shoulders and ascended the five steps. The floorboards of the porch hadn’t been painted in a while, and they creaked beneath his shoes as he crossed them. Before he could lose what little nerve he had, he lifted a hand and rapped on the screen door. The sound echoed around the quiet neighborhood like a gunshot. In his ears, anyway.

  Nothing moved inside the house. Jude took a step back. Well, he’d tried. That was all anyone could ask of him, wasn’t it? He backed up another step but froze at the sound of footsteps in the hallway on the other side of the door.

  His chest clenched when the wooden door opened. For a moment, the woman on the other side of the screen only stared at him. Then she pressed the backs of her fingers to her mouth. “Jude.”

  He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat at the sight of her. “Hi, Mom.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  His mother stepped back, cleared her throat. “Come in.”

  Legs weak, Jude stepped over the threshold. As he closed the door, a memory crashed through him. Of creeping out onto the porch that night and pulling this very door closed behind him. Softly, so no one would hear him. No one would try to stop him.

  When he turned around, his mother stood watching him, hazel eyes filled with tears. After a moment, she let out a raspy laugh, stepped forward, and threw her arms around him. Jude hesitated before pulling her to him and resting his chin on the head that had a few more gray hairs sprinkled amongst the brown than the last time he’d seen her, five years before. The smell of lilies of the valley drifted from her. That hadn’t changed, anyway.

  She moved out of his embrace and hooked her arm through his. “Come in and we’ll talk.” She took him to the kitchen and directed him to the table by the window. “Sit. I’ll make tea.”

  Tea. Jude grinned wryly. As far as his mother was concerned, tea was the answer to every problem. No issue in the world couldn’t be resolved if both parties sat down over a steaming pot and talked things out. If she’d ever been elected prime minister, it certainly would have been the way she’d dealt with any global crisis. Which, at the moment, felt about the scale they were operating on.

  He sobered. “Where’s Cash and Maddie?” Just saying the names of his brother and sister reopened a wound deep down inside him. Their father had come and gone when Jude was a kid—often disappearing on some bender for days at a time. Shortly after Maddie was born he left and didn’t come back. He had a new family now and they’d barely heard from him over the years. All the more reason Jude should have stuck around, not left Cash to be the only man in the family.

  She set the kettle on the stove and turned to face him. “Cash is at work. He’s a paramedic now and has a twelve-hour shift today before a day off tomorrow. And he doesn’t live here anymore—he has his own place, an apartment on the west side of town. Maddie’s in college so she’s at school, but,” she glanced at the clock hanging above the coffee maker, “she’ll be home in a few minutes. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

  “Will she?”

  His mother’s steady gaze met his. “Yes, she will. She’s missed you terribly. She cried herself to sleep for weeks after you left. So did I, for that matter.” His mother turned and flung open the cupboard beside the stove. She lifted down a basket filled with various boxes of tea and Jude’s chest tightened. So much hadn’t changed. So how could everything feel so different?

  “I’m sorry, Mom.” The words sounded so futile, ridiculous even. How could three words ever begin to convey his remorse?

  She set down the basket and pressed both palms to the counter. For a few seconds she didn’t move then she faced him, leaning back against the counter as though she needed the support. “So am I.”

  He blinked. What could she possibly have to be sorry about? He was the one who left. He was the one who hadn’t been able to save Tessa.

  With a sigh, she pushed away from the counter and walked over to sit down on the chair beside him. Reaching for his hand, she squeezed it tight. “I know you blamed yourself for Tessa’s death. But I was so wrapped up in my own grief that I wasn’t able to reach out to you. It wasn’t until you left that I realized how badly I had failed you. And I would have given anything to reach out to you then, to convince you to come home, but I didn’t know how to find you. I tried. Cash tried too, but it was as though you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”

  “I know.” His throat was so tight he could barely speak. “I don’t even know what to say, how to tell you how sorry I am that you didn’t only lose Tessa, you lost me too. At the time I thought it was for the best, that I was a constant reminder to you of what happened to her. But now I see that I was being selfish and weak. It was me who needed to escape the constant reminders, because I didn’t have the courage to stay and face them like you did. You and Cash and Maddie.” He lifted her hand to his cheek. It was soft and cool against his flushed skin. “I don’t have any words to make that all right.”

  “You don’t need them.” She stroked his cheek lightly with her thumb. “You came home. That says everything you need to say.”

  Was she really going to let him off the hook that easily? If only he could do the same for himself. The kettle whistled and she tugged her hand from his, swiping a tear off her cheek as she went to make the tea.

  Jude slumped against the back of the chair. Runners crossing the finish line at the end of a marathon couldn’t possibly feel any shakier or more drained—physically and emotionally—than he did at the moment.

  “Chai, right?”

  Jude looked over at his mother. She held up the box of his favorite tea and he nodded. “You remember.”

  She dropped two bags into the pot, poured boiling water over them, then replaced the lid with a clank and carried the pot over to the table. After setting it down, she walked back to the cupboard and pulled out a bright red mug with a yellow smiley face. “I remember everything.” She took down another mug and handed the red one to Jude.

  “I can’t believe you still have this.”

  “It’s been sitting at the front of the cupboard since you left. I think of you every morning when I see it. For a long time that hurt, a lot. Gradually though, the good memories came back, slowly but surely becoming stronger than the hurt, although that never left completely. It was worth it though, worth not letting thoughts of you either turn bitter or fade away. Whatever happened in the past, you are still my son. You still hold a place in my heart that could never be filled by anyone or anything else.”

  He had no response for that. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Then she patted his hand and reached for the pot. “So, tell me everything. Where did you go? What have you been up to the last few years? Do you have a wife? Do I have any grandbabies I don’t know about?”

  The light was back in her eyes. Jude laughed. “No. No wife and no babies.” She filled his mug and he pulled
it closer and wrapped both hands around it. Where did he begin to fill her in on his life the last five years? How much could he even tell her? Knowing everything he had done since he’d left, everything he’d been involved with, wouldn’t make her feel any better about him, but he was tired of secrets. Tired of hiding.

  Still, he was done being selfish. He wouldn’t unload anything on her simply to clear his own conscience. Not if it added to her burden in any way.

  Before he could decide where to start, the front door flung open, and his sister called out, “Mom, I’m home.”

  His mother’s eyes met his. “Give us a moment, okay?”

  Jude nodded, watching her as she made her way out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the front door. How would his sister react to him being here? She’d been so young when he left, barely eighteen. A tough age at any time, but how much tougher when she’d just lost the big sister she adored? He should have been there for her.

  He shot a glance at the door leading from the kitchen into the back yard. Maybe he could sneak out, come back another time. Facing his mom had been enough for one day. If he left, Maddie would have more time to come to grips with him being back in town. Maybe she wouldn’t even want to see him, and if she didn’t, he would respect that and stay away.

  His fingers tightened around the red mug. Seriously, Jude. When are you going to stop running away?

  He forced himself to sit and wait. The murmur of voices drifted to him from the hallway. His sister’s startled cry struck him with the force of a blow and he let go of the mug with one hand to wipe away a bead of sweat that had started down one temple.

  Then she was there, in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at him. Even at 23, she looked like the teenager he remembered. She wore a navy Conestoga College hoodie and jeans and her dark hair was caught up in a high ponytail.

  Jude’s heart thudded erratically against his ribs as he pushed back his chair and stood. For several long, excruciating seconds her blue eyes, roiling with emotion, searched his. Then she stalked across the room, clenched her fist, and pounded him in the upper arm. “You left.”