Home At Last

by Raney, Deborah;

  Before he’d met Shayla, he’d often thought the solution to this great divide was merely a matter of time. Let one more generation pass away, and with that passing, their ignorant, hateful, prejudiced ways would disappear. But it seemed those hateful ways lived on in yet a new generation, in jerks like Mohawk. And if nothing changed, men like Mohawk would teach their children to hate and belittle and kill. And they would teach their children, and so it would go.

  But it had never been so personal before. Until now, that wall had never kept him from someone he loved. For no good reason.

  He thought of Portia, and his heart ached for the world she was growing up in. There had to be a better way. There had to be answers.

  Shayla stirred against him, cradled in the crook of his arm. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.” She pulled away.

  But he drew her back, leaning against the van. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” But he was sorry. For so much.

  She looked up at him over her shoulder, her face only inches from his. Her lips . . .

  He turned her in his arms and took her face in his hands. Brushed a mass of those beautiful ringlets off her cheek. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered. And he did what he’d been wanting to do all night. He bent and pressed his lips to hers, savoring the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, the taste of her.

  She kissed him back, as if she’d been wanting the same thing he had the whole evening long.

  Yet, a moment later, she pushed away from him. “Link . . . No . . . I can’t.” She took a stumbling step backward. “Please. I’m sorry if I—” But just as quickly, she was back in his arms of her own will, kissing him, cradling his head, drawing him even closer, if that were possible.

  Now it was him who needed to take a step back. Gently, but firmly, he put some space between them, still gripping the sleeves of her coat, not willing to let her go. Yet knowing he must. “I’m sorry if . . . if that was too soon.” Catching his breath, he offered a smile, hoping it conveyed even half of what was in his heart. “But I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

  She looked up at him, her expression serious. But he thought he detected that spark in her eyes that he loved so.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Great. Now I’ll never get over you.” The sarcasm was thick in her voice, but a soft smile bathed her face in light, and held a very different tone.

  And Link felt as if he’d just won the lottery.

  He turned away now, went back to work on the latch as if nothing had happened. But very aware of her watching him as he worked, he couldn’t quit thinking how she’d felt in his arms. How it’d felt to kiss her.

  The latch finally gave way and he lifted the hood. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”

  She shined the light over his shoulder.

  “Oh, I think I see what’s wrong. It looks like one of the battery cables came loose.” He tugged gently on the cable and the connection came completely apart. “I don’t know how that could have happened. If it was that loose, it surely would have jiggled off before you got too far down the road.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” She looked horror-stricken. “If that had happened on the way to set up the reception . . . I can’t even imagine!” She looked at the sky. “Thank you, Lord.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “Let me go get something to clean this connection. I think I can fix it—at least long enough to get you home.”

  “All I know is Daddy came as close to cussing as I’ve ever heard, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. But I don’t know what he fixed exactly.”

  “I have a feeling this will do it. Be right back.” He jogged to the garage and came back with a wire brush. He cleaned off the connectors and the terminal, neither of which appeared to be corroded. But it was hard to tell in the dim light of the flashlight Shayla held.

  When he was finished, he hooked the cable back to the battery and climbed in behind the wheel to try it out.

  The van sputtered, but the engine caught and started on the first try.

  Shayla let out a little whoop. “My hero,” she said when he came around to close the hood.

  “Ask your dad, but you probably ought to let the car run for a while after you get home. Make sure the battery is good and charged before you turn it off.”

  “Okay. Thank you so much, Link.”

  They stood facing each other in front of the purring van. There was nothing to keep her here now. And nothing to bring her back.

  Feeling a sort of desperation, he reached for her again, cradling her face between his hands and kissing her softly, briefly. She didn’t resist. “I meant what I said, Shay. I’m not sorry.”

  “I know. Neither am I.”

  “I don’t want this to be it. I don’t want us to be over. Why . . . why didn’t you answer my calls?”

  “Why did you quit calling?”

  “That’s not fair.” But he was the one being unfair. He was stalling. Because he wasn’t sure of the answer to her question. And after tonight, he wished he could turn back time. Do things differently.

  She breathed out a long sigh and closed her eyes. But she shook her head. “I need to go, Link.” Without waiting for a response, she climbed into the van and backed out.

  He stood in the driveway watching until her taillights disappeared into the night.

  ***

  “Is everything okay?” His mom looked up from the sink as soon as he stepped into the kitchen.

  His eyes adjusted to the light while he tried to shake off the emotions of what had just happened with Shay. “Yeah. Her car just wouldn’t start. I got it running.”

  “Oh, good. She’s a sweet girl.” His mom studied him, fishing, he knew, for details.

  But even if he’d been in the mood to offer any, he had nothing. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Shayla Michaels again. Unless he pursued her. And she’d probably had enough of stalkers for a while.

  “You need any help here?”

  “No, I was just getting ready to set some sandwich stuff out. You hungry?”

  “Maybe.” He wasn’t, not really. But Mom was never happy if she couldn’t offer to fill someone’s belly. “You need some help?”

  A burst of laughter came from the front room. His mom smiled. “No, you go on. Go hang out with the family. I’ll let you know when the spread is on.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  He stepped into the front room to another outburst of laughter. It made him smile just to hear it, even though he didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. He sat listening, trying to catch up on the conversation before diving in like usual.

  Panning the room, it struck him that everyone had someone. Corinne and Jesse sat with their two littlest girls between them. Danae sat on Dallas’s lap, and Chase and Landyn cuddled on the loveseat. Bree and Drew were on their honeymoon. Even Dad had headed in to help Mom in the kitchen. It was hard to be in this house when his heart was in a van, driving away from here.

  He sat on a folding chair, fending off the nieces and nephews’ pleas to come play with them. Trying—and failing—to get into the lively discussion.

  Half an hour crawled by and—much as he loved his family—he’d had enough of the noise and commotion. He just wanted to be alone, needed time to think about everything that had happened. To think about how good it had been to see Shayla again today. And how hard it was to let her go. Maybe he could call her under the guise of making sure she got home okay.

  Of course, she’d see through that in a heartbeat. Her dad was expecting her, and she knew that. There was no reason for him to call. Except that he was in love with the woman. Wasn’t that enough? Why did he have to have a guise?

  He waited until the noisy crew was involved in another conversation before he slipped out to the kitchen. Dad had his head in the fridge, while his Mom sliced something on the cutting board. Apparently an onion judging by the tears.

  He couldn’t help but think of Shay’s tears of embarrassment and frustration this e
vening. And his wanting to comfort her. He shook off the thought and went to give his mom a quick hug. “Hey, don’t cry,” he teased. “I’ll be back.”

  Mom laughed. “I always cry at weddings. Wait. You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, I think I’m going to head home. I’ve had about all the festivities I can take for one day.”

  “Are you sure, honey? You don’t want to eat something first? It’s almost ready.”

  Dad popped out of the refrigerator. “There’s leftovers out the wazoo in here. Why don’t you fix a plate to take home.”

  “Yeah, I might take a sandwich or something, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course. But, you’re sure you don’t want to stay? Everything’s okay?” He hated that too-familiar worried look her eyes held. Especially knowing it was on his account.

  “I’m fine. Just tired.” He sighed. He didn’t have the energy to convince her he was okay. Especially when he wasn’t sure whether he really was.

  He built a sandwich from the fixings they’d laid out and wrapped it in a paper towel. “Are we on for Tuesday night this week?”

  “We are.” Mom rinsed her hands under the gooseneck faucet. “But don’t be disappointed if supper is this same spread.”

  “Looks good to me.” He gave a little wave. “Okay, I’m outta here. See you Tuesday. Love you guys.”

  “You too, bud,” they said in unison behind him.

  His throat constricted. He’d never really thought what it would be like to lose one of his parents the way Shay had. But he could imagine how losing Mom might change his father. And vice versa. He hadn’t shown enough empathy for Shayla’s situation, not to mention the way things had snowballed with Jerry and Portia’s mother, and then taking the little girl on.

  He had to ask himself if he was truly aware of what it meant to love Shayla Michaels. For the long haul.

  Outside, the wind had picked up, and the temperature had dropped. Link buttoned his jacket as he walked to his truck. At least he didn’t have to work tomorrow. He just might skip church and sleep in. After all, he’d been to church already today. He hoped God saw the humor in his little joke. Shayla would have.

  He started the truck, grateful it hadn’t stalled out on him since that night out at the pond with Shayla. As he backed around and headed out the driveway, his cell chirped in his pocket. He braked at the end of the drive and pulled out his phone.

  The name that displayed in the Caller ID window lifted his spirits: Coffee’s On.

  He couldn’t keep the smile from his voice as he answered. “Hello?”

  “Is this Link Whitman?”

  “Yes. This is Link.”

  “This is Mike Michaels. Shayla’s dad.” His voice sounded gruffer than usual.

  Link hesitated. “Hi, Mr. Michaels. How are you?” How had Michaels gotten his phone number?

  “Is Shayla still there? She said she was having trouble getting the van started, but she never got back to me. I was kind of expecting her home by now.”

  His concern edged up a notch. “She’s not home yet?”

  “No. Like I said, her van wouldn’t start. She was out at the inn where the wedding reception was. At least I thought that’s where she was when she called.”

  “Yes. I mean, she was here. And we got it started. But she left here”—he glanced at the clock on the dash—“close to an hour ago now.”

  “Okay. Well, she must have had to take one of her crew home. Sorry to bother you.”

  “No. Wait, Mr. Michaels. Valerie took Derrick home. Shayla was going straight home as far as I know. She should have been there long before now.”

  “Well, she’s not. And she’s not answering her phone.”

  “That doesn’t sound right. I hope she didn’t get stranded again.”

  “How’d she get the car running again anyway?”

  “One of the battery cables was loose. We connected it again and the van started right—”

  “Loose? Why would the cables be loose? I put those on myself, and there’s no way they coulda come loose.”

  “I saw it myself.” He hadn’t meant for that to come out sounding like an argument. “I mean, I’m the one who opened the hood. The cable was just barely hanging on. Not even connected really. I thought maybe it was corroded so I—”

  “No. It wasn’t corroded. I cleaned those cables and the terminals myself not three days ago. They were in good condition. Good condition. Somebody must’ve messed with them.”

  Link wasn’t sure if Michaels was accusing him or just making an observation. But if what he said was true, then that was about the only conclusion that made sense. Somebody had messed with the van.

  “You said she’s not answering her phone?” Link’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  “No. I’ve been trying for the last half hour at least.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. I was just leaving the inn. I’ll head that way and watch for her. See if maybe she had more trouble.”

  “Okay, I’ll head your direction from here. Call me if you find her.”

  “Of course. You’ll do the same?”

  Michaels grunted and hung up.

  Link’s mind kept taking him to a place he did not want to go. Why would that cable have been disconnected? He wanted to think it was a prank. Maybe Derrick and Valerie were just messing with Shay. But they wouldn’t have left her stranded. They would have stuck around to see her reaction.

  He’d seen a group of teenagers—wedding guests—hanging out by the garage during the reception. But they’d been too busy flirting with each other to vandalize the caterer’s van. Besides, they were good kids. Friends of Dallas and Drew.

  And somehow Link knew it was neither of those.

  And if it wasn’t . . . Oh, dear God. Please, no . . .

  Link dialed Shayla’s father again. He answered on the first ring.

  “Mr. Michaels, we need to go find her. We need to find her now.”

  27

  Link drove as close to the speed limit as he could and still search the ditches. He drove in a zigzag with his headlights aimed first on one side of the road, then the other. Less than twelve minutes out, he saw headlights approaching. Shayla’s father, no doubt.

  If Mike Michaels reamed him out for not following Shayla home, for not insisting that she let him know when she’d arrived safely, Link couldn’t blame him.

  He should have followed her. He should have taken her home himself and worried about the van tomorrow. What if he hadn’t gotten the cable connected right, and it’d slipped loose again?

  It chilled him to realize that, at this point, that was the best news he could hope for.

  But it seemed almost impossible that cable could have come undone, given the way it was connected. Still, how had it happened the first time? It almost had to be deliberate. But why would anyone—

  His breath caught, remembering how the door to the shed had been open when he’d gone to put Huck back inside after the cake incident. Dad would never have left it unlatched, especially on a day like today.

  He pulled over to the side of the road, and the oncoming vehicle—a smaller Toyota—did the same on the opposite side. Link realized he didn’t know what kind of car Shayla’s father drove. He’d only ever seen him in the delivery van.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when it was Michaels who got out of the car.

  Link jogged across the road and shook hands with him.

  “You didn’t see her?” Her dad’s voice held a world of worry.

  “No. Nothing.” Spotting Portia awake in her booster seat in the back, Link leaned in through the open driver’s door. “Hey, sweetie. You’re up awfully late, aren’t you?”

  She shook her head, watching him with wide eyes. “No. Big Daddy said I’m up early.”

  He grinned. “Well, Big Daddy is right. But if you want to sleep a little longer, you can just lay your head down there, okay?”

  She put a thumb in her mouth and listed to one side. He’d neve
r seen her suck her thumb before, and it tugged at his heart. He didn’t know what Michaels had told her, but it seemed Portia knew something was up. Oh, God, please don’t make us have to break this little girl’s heart.

  Michaels shook his head, staring into the distance as if he might see Shayla’s car off somewhere. “It makes no sense that we wouldn’t have come upon her if she broke down.”

  “She didn’t ever take a different way home?”

  Michaels gave him a look. “You know well as I do, there is no different way.” He pulled out his phone and pressed a button. Seconds later, he grimaced and returned the cell to his pocket. “Straight to voice mail. I’m going to drive the route between here and there one more time. Just in case we missed something. I’ve been checking the roadsides and ditches, but some of ’em are too dense to see.”

  Too dense, and too far down. “Yeah. Me too.” Link scuffed his shoe on the pavement, eager to get going. “You want to meet back here in about ten, fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay. You have my cell number?”

  “Not your cell.” He pulled out his phone and input Michaels’s cell number.

  Michaels shook his head. “I don’t like the way this is looking.”

  Link heard the discouragement and frustration in his voice. If they didn’t find Shay soon, he was going to call 9-1-1. He didn’t care what her father said.

  He hopped in his truck and eased back onto the roadway, but as his headlights shot across to the opposite ditch, a flash of light caught his eye. He maneuvered the truck to position the lights where they’d catch the reflection again.

  There! Something shiny lay among the gravel lining the road. He tooted his horn, trying to catch Michaels before he got too far down the road.

  The Toyota’s brake lights flashed, and Michaels backed up to where Link was parked. Link grabbed a flashlight from his glove compartment and climbed out.

  Michaels got out of his car. A vehicle was coming from the opposite direction, and he waited for it to pass before crossing the road.

  Link pointed to where the rays from his headlights shone. “See that?”