The Winding Road Home

by Sally John

  “It’s not your concern!”

  “Of course it is.”

  She leaned close to him, her voice a hoarse whisper. “What do you mean of course it is?”

  “Adele, I don’t mean to interfere. It’s just information that you can totally ignore. But look, she has to know. I simply saved you the time and effort of searching on the Internet.”

  “Once she knew the name, the Internet wouldn’t have been any time or effort for her. My concern is his response! I don’t want him hurting her!”

  “He said he’s willing to talk with her. He admitted knowing you and about her.” In a manner of speaking he had admitted it anyway.

  “How did you get that from him? Seventeen years ago I got nothing.”

  “People change. Even cads grow up.”

  She flopped back against the couch and looked at the fire, quiet now.

  He waited, giving her time to sort through the wreckage of old emotions colliding with new ones. His own were on edge.

  At last she said, “I hadn’t even considered the possibility that he could change. And I even prayed for him, in the early days, when I first became a Christian.”

  “Well, he’s older now and has a family. That tends to change a guy. And I told him…” He paused. “I told him you weren’t after money.”

  She turned to him. “So that’s why he’s willing.”

  Graham shrugged. “Could be a major factor.”

  “The creep. He hasn’t changed.” Her voice was agitated again. “I don’t want my daughter anywhere near the sound of his voice! I wish you hadn’t done this.”

  “I was only trying to help.”

  “Well, I think you went beyond guardian angel duty. That man will not disrupt our life. Did you tell him where we live?”

  “No, nothing like that. I only said I was your friend.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  On second thought, perhaps he wasn’t her friend. “I think I’ll go now. You have a lot to sort through.”

  She nodded curtly and rose. He followed her to the door and retrieved his coat.

  “Graham, this really isn’t any of your concern, in spite of…” She bit her lip. “In spite of whatever these feelings are between us.”

  “My mistake. I apologize for intruding.” I just have this idiotic tendency to go after the bad guy.

  She shut the door behind him. No goodbye, no hug, no nothing.

  The woman’s independence would not crumble easily.

  Twenty-Nine

  Late Friday afternoon, Kate turned on the sidewalk and backed into the video store, yanking the strings of a dozen helium-filled balloons. They bopped her in the face and wouldn’t fit through the door. Laughing, she called out, “Help!”

  She felt the door give way as Tanner came alongside and helped her guide the balloons indoors.

  “You didn’t bring these in Helen. There’s no way.”

  She laughed again. “Absolutely no way. I borrowed my mom’s car, and there are more out in it. Hi, Mick,” she said to the boy closing the door. She spotted the other new employee behind the counter. “Hi, Betsy!”

  The teens greeted her. She had met them last week when they came in to fill out applications. Tomorrow was the big grand opening, Tanner’s first day of business. Tonight they were putting the finishing touches on the place.

  Taking the balloons from her, Tanner asked, “What are we going to do with these?”

  “Tie them down. Let them float around. Whatever.”

  “Okay.” He sounded dubious. “Let’s go with whatever. Whatever you decide.”

  “Let’s take these to the back room.”

  He followed her. “They’ll make things look festive, I guess.”

  “I’ve got this too.” Kate dug into her jacket pockets and pulled out three rolls of rainbow colored crepe paper. “Ta-da.”

  “Well, you’re certainly perkier than you were the other night. I suppose you’ll be a regular Miss Grump on deadline days.”

  On the pretense of removing her coat, she turned her back to him. In his innocuous observation he threatened to undo all of her preparations for the weekend. She had buried her feelings and her mother’s words in work. With the weekly edition put to bed, the weekend loomed with all of its Tanner-related plans. How could she nonchalantly be with him when all these emotions fizzed so near the surface?

  Early that morning she tackled it in prayer, followed by a pep talk to psyche herself up. She was giving no credence to the idea she was falling in love with him. Impossible. In the first place, she was leaving town. Even more important than that, though, was the fact that he was totally out of her league. His wealthy background and his gorgeous good looks—all right, yes, she admitted he was gorgeous—set him apart. He did resemble Adonis, a contemporary American version. Their paths could cross, but they could never ever walk the same one. It would be like the prince marrying the scullery maid, with no queen mum to train her in proper royal etiquette. No adoring public to cheer her on.

  With all that settled in her mind, she felt geared up to help him with the grand opening. By sheer willpower she would simply ignore his magnetism and that ridiculous meltdown sensation which started the other morning when she looked up from the computer at the office and saw him watching her.

  She laid her coat on a chair and faced him. “I apologize for Wednesday night. I was an awful grouch.”

  “Downright rude.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Apology accepted.” He grinned. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. You promised pizza.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

  “That’s kind of an easy route to your heart, Kilpatrick.”

  “I know.” She avoided his eyes and went to work on untangling the balloon streamers he held.

  “I’m surprised you don’t have suitors lined up around the block.”

  “Mm-hmm. And what would I do with a line of suitors?”

  “Besides eat well?”

  She laughed. “Tanner, you’re all thumbs here. Can I borrow Betsy? Decorating is kind of a girl thing.”

  “What exactly is it you have against Sir Galahad? I know you said his efforts are a waste of energy.” He yanked on the ribbons, which only tightened them around his fingers. “What’s a waste of energy is fiddling with these balloons.”

  “But they’ll add so much to the event that it’s worth expending the extra energy.”

  “I believe that’s Galahad’s intention.” His eyes met hers. “Some women are worth the extra energy because they add so much to the event of his life.”

  She looked at the snarled mess in his hands, blotting out the brown-velvet warmth gazing at her. “I’ll get the scissors. And Betsy.”

  “Kate, you’re worth it.”

  Why didn’t he drop it? “I suppose I will be to the right man, if there is such a one. Maybe God has plans for me staying single.”

  “And maybe He doesn’t. Maybe He has one particular Sir Galahad waiting in the wings until you get over your issues.”

  Her laugh was derisive. “Why are we on this subject?”

  “Because you don’t want to be on it. You have Galahad issues too, don’t you?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Do too.”

  “Don’t.” Her voice rose.

  “Do!” His was louder.

  “Don’t!” she yelled.

  He burst out laughing, grabbed her hands, and deftly wound streamers around them, joining their hands together in a tangled web.

  Tanner Carlucci was flirting with her.

  Shivers chased that meltdown sensation until she felt giddy.

  “Betsy!” she shouted. “Bring scissors!”

  But take your time. I doubt I’ll get another chance like this again.

  Late Friday evening Adele huddled on the couch under an afghan, staring at the cold fireplace. There weren’t any romantic flames burning tonight. There weren’t even any ashes left. She had cleaned those out as if that
would erase the memory.

  She waited for Chelsea. In typical teenage fashion, the girl would sleep half tomorrow away. Now that Adele had made her decision, she couldn’t afford to lose a Saturday waiting while anxiety chomped slowly through the hours. It had been doing that for two days now.

  The Graham-induced anxiety threatened to undo her. It was his fault. If he hadn’t pushed the matter of Chelsea’s father, she could have let it go. Again. Still. Oh, why had she ever told him in the first place? The notion that he represented safety was a silly pipe dream. She hadn’t been looking, had she? Why had she succumbed to his masculinity so easily?

  Lord, I’m sorry for replacing You with him!

  The two days since his bombshell had been like running through a maze trying to lose the anxiety-driven thoughts. He had no right. I do not have to tell Chelsea now. She’s still too young. Adele worked as usual. Though she worried how to avoid Graham, it hadn’t been a problem. He didn’t call or come by her office. She didn’t go to Rand’s room. Last night she worked in her basement studio until the wee hours of the morning. Tonight she had tried to do so again, but her nerves were frazzled. The matter obviously wasn’t going away.

  She called Naomi, who spoke soothingly and pointed out that Graham had indeed done her a service by forcing the issue. It was time to let Chelsea know the entire truth. After all, hadn’t she just shared the truth with Adele about Tara?

  Headlights flashed through the living room curtains and continued along the driveway. Chelsea was parking the minivan in the garage. Given her recent confession, she had been allowed out tonight, with the car. Adele glanced at the clock on the mantel. Ten fifty-five. Good girl.

  She would come in the back door. Adele waited. She felt as though she’d been waiting for 17 years.

  “Hi, Mom!” Chelsea bounded into the room and plopped on the couch. “I’m early!”

  “I noticed.”

  “Thanks for letting me go out tonight.” Her eyes were bright, her smile wide.

  Maybe Adele would wait.

  “We all got together at Jackie’s and Tara told them. She’ll go through with the pregnancy now. No way would she want them all to know she’d had an abortion. And, Mom, they were all so supportive.”

  “That’s good. You have a loyal group of friends, honey.”

  Chelsea babbled on for a while and then was about to head upstairs.

  “Chels, can we talk a minute?”

  “Sure.” She settled back into the couch. “What’s up?”

  Adele took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not sure where to begin. Honey, I haven’t been completely honest with you.” She paused again.

  “Mom, you’re scaring me. Can’t you talk faster?”

  “I know your dad’s name. He’s an American.”

  Chelsea stared at her. “What’s his name?”

  “Greg Findley. I’ve been waiting until you were older before I told you everything.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to know how foolish I was. It was hardly a romantic fling. I met him in Europe. We were both spoiled brats with access to unlimited funds. We were out to have a good time.” She covered her mouth with a hand and whispered, “I’m so ashamed.” On second thought, she needn’t go into the entire truth. Ugly details didn’t need to be relived.

  “Mom, you were just a kid.”

  She clasped Chelsea’s hands. “Who should have known better. Anyway, I told him I was pregnant. He told me to get an abortion.”

  Her daughter winced.

  “I have always been so grateful for refusing. You are the joy of my life.” She leaned over and kissed her cheek. “He picked up his backpack and walked out. I never heard from him again. I tracked him down once, when you were about three months old. He said he didn’t know me.”

  “Oh, Mom! How awful!”

  “Well, we didn’t need that influence in our life, did we?” Do we need it now?

  “No way. How did you do it? I mean, first your dad rejects you, then him.”

  “You know how. Aunt Naomi and Jesus. But…” Should she? “Graham…Graham tracked down Greg.”

  “Graham?”

  “Yeah. He seems to have a way with the Internet. And with words, I guess. He actually talked to him.”

  Chelsea’s jaw dropped.

  “Your dad lives in Denver. He has a wife and two kids. I think they’re seven and nine. He said he’s willing to talk to you if you want to talk to him. You don’t have to decide right away. You need some time to decipher all this.”

  “Not really.”

  Now Adele felt her own jaw drop.

  “I mean, what’s been your biggest regret ever, Mom? Not ever talking to your dad. Right?”

  She nodded. She’d never kept that a secret.

  “I don’t think I want to live with that for the rest of my life.”

  “Honey, I don’t want you to get your hopes up. He might still be a creep who’ll just say hello, have a nice life, and don’t look to me for anything.”

  “I have to find that out for myself.”

  “Even if it hurts?”

  “You keep telling me life hurts.”

  She smiled. “You could stop quoting me, child.”

  “You could let me grow up.”

  She let go of Chelsea’s hands and wrapped her in a hug. Her daughter snuggled into her arms like a two-year-old. “Well, I let you take a baby step tonight by telling you this.”

  “How about letting me take another one?”

  “So soon? What is it?”

  “You could give me his phone number.”

  Adele felt herself go still. “Graham has it.”

  “So will you get it?”

  Adele rubbed Chelsea’s back and nestled her face against her curls. “Sure.”

  It was midnight when Tanner locked the door on the last customer and leaned against it.

  Kate watched him. The grand opening celebration had been a success, a day full of wall-to-wall customers and wellwishers. He should be ecstatically happy over the town’s enthusiastic support, but he appeared to be brooding. She knew why, and she didn’t want it to be the first thing out of his mouth.

  She applauded her hands and let out a piercing whistle. “Way to go! That had to have been the grandest grand opening Valley Oaks has ever seen. Front page article for sure.”

  He smiled. “Above the fold?”

  “Most definitely. With your photo. Your photo will sell lots of papers. All those moms and daughters. You want to count the money?”

  “I’m too bushed. How’s that for an entrepreneurial answer?” He laughed in a mocking way. “The bankers would cringe.”

  “Well, it can wait.” She had already cleared the Ping-Pong table of food and tableware trash. “Shall I take down the crepe paper?”

  “No. I’ll let one of the kids do that on a slow day. I suppose we could have one.”

  “Maybe now and then. Well, I’m bushed too. I guess it’s time to call it—”

  “He didn’t come.”

  “I know. Something probably came up.”

  “Something always comes up. Something is going to come up tomorrow to cancel a certain outing that involves a plane.”

  She went to him. “Tanner, don’t do this to yourself.”

  “What am I doing to myself? I think my dad took care of things quite nicely without my help. At least my mom had a good excuse. She’s in Arizona.”

  She grabbed his hands, pulled him behind the counter, and shoved him into a chair. “It’s an old emotional tape you’re playing.” She boosted herself atop the counter. “Let him go. Forgive him for all the times he’s wronged you and for all the times he’s going to again.”

  “One good reason?”

  “You’re letting him ruin this perfectly perfect day. It’s your new start, Tanner. Don’t let him interfere. And besides, you’re not so cute when you’re feeling sorry for yourself.” Whoops.

  He smiled at her. “It’s hard to let go o
f thirty years.”

  “I can’t imagine. But if you let him off the hook, you’re really pulling out the hook that keeps cutting into your heart. I dare you to keep the date tomorrow. It’ll be a tangible thing you can do to pull that hook out. How he treats you does not have to dictate what you do or how you feel.”

  “I’ve tried.”

  “Well, try again and stop whining.” She scooted off the counter. “Oh. You could pray about it too. There’s no way on God’s green earth that by your own power you can forgive a person who’s hurt you like he has.”

  He rubbed his jaw.

  “I think we both just dared each other to go tomorrow. What do you say?”

  “I don’t know, Kate. This is a new one, daring to do the same thing. Who will pay for dinner?”

  She laughed. “Let me at that cash register.”

  Thirty

  Adele spent most of Saturday with Chelsea. The girl was full of questions about Greg Findley. She didn’t seem to mind that the answers were 18 years old.

  It was a painful journey for Adele, but she knew it was no longer avoidable. She hauled the ladder from the basement to the second floor hallway and climbed up it and through the attic opening. The shoe box was in the bottom of a larger box which was tucked beneath a stack of baby clothes. Neither box had been opened since she packed them when Chelsea was a toddler.

  They sat together at the dining room table. Pushing aside mementos, Adele searched for what Chelsea would want to see first: the photo album. It was small and plain, the photo edges somewhat yellowed. Flipping the pages quickly, she went as if by reflex straight to the picture. It was the best one of Greg, alone, standing near a canal in Venice.

  “Mom, he’s cute!”

  “Well, of course.” She studied the tall, laughing blond, more southern California surfer than San Franciscan. Yes, he had been a cute 21-year-old, though now she recognized the softness about his chin, a clue to his lack of character. At least she hadn’t had to confront it every day. “But you know, Chels, I’ve always been grateful you resembled me.”

  “Except for my ear.” She touched her left one where the ridge folded over slightly. “Look, you can see it on him.”

  “Mm-hmm. And he was tall, like you. His eyes were bluer than ours.”