No, that wasn’t fair. He liked Mia to talk. He loved her soothing, sweet voice. He loved her enthusiasm for life, her positive take on everything, her belief in the ultimate goodness. She was a light in a dark place.
Mia had been so upset for him. He’d wanted to talk to her, wanted to let her help, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how.
Burrowing one hand deep into Happy’s thick fur, Collin drew comfort from the warm, loving dog.
A lot of good prayer had done. Not that he expected God to pay any attention to him. But Mia had prayed. And if God was going to listen to anybody, wouldn’t He hear someone like her?
With his free hand, Collin dug down into his pants’ pocket, felt the metal fish. All this time he’d carried the keychain as a reminder of his brothers. Of that last day together. Of the counselor who’d prayed for them and shown them kindness, given them hope. Had Drew still carried his that fateful night?
A fire. Another fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, but quickly opened them when flames shot up behind his imagination. Drew in a fire. Helpless. Just like the animals in his barn.
All night, he lay there, unable to sleep, unable to stop picturing the burned animals he’d had to bury. Unable to stop his imagination from making the terrible comparison.
When at last the sun broke above the horizon, heralding the new day, Collin rolled onto his belly and pulled the pillow over his head.
Today was Thanksgiving.
And he wasn’t feeling too thankful.
* * *
At noon Collin awakened, cold and depressed, to a very urgent demand from Happy to be let outside. Amazed to have slept at all, he stumbled to the front door, bleary-eyed and heavy-headed. The house was cold and the wood floors chilled his bare feet. He’d forgotten to turn on the heat last night.
After cranking the thermostat, he stood at the door to watch the collie hobble around the front yard, tail in motion, sniffing the scent of the resident squirrel as if he had the legs to catch it. Collin had to admit, the little dog’s attitude had a positive effect on his own.
When Happy made the choice to stay outside and play, Collin closed the door and went to make coffee.
He felt bad about backing out of dinner at the Caranos’. He didn’t like disappointing Mia—or any of the others for that matter. They were a great family. The best. The kind he would have loved to have grown up in. But he didn’t belong, especially not today when negative energy was all he had to share.
He hoped Mitch was there, though, instead of at home. The boy needed the Caranos.
While the coffee brewed, the kitchen grew warmer, but Collin’s feet didn’t. He headed for the bedroom in search of clean socks.
As he opened the dresser drawer, his attention fell to the book Mia had given to him the night of the barn fire. She’d said the contents would encourage him, help him understand his purpose. Until yesterday he’d believed his purpose was to find his brothers. Now he wondered if there had to be more to life than a single-minded effort to accomplish only one thing. He’d found Drew, for whatever good that had done him. What would he do after he found Ian? Once his only purpose was fulfilled, then what? Would his life be over?
Without giving the decision too much thought, he grabbed the book along with a pair of socks and headed for the kitchen and that much-needed cup of coffee. The smell alone was waking him up.
He poured a cup and sat down at the table, flipped the book to a random page, and began to read.
* * *
Late that afternoon Happy’s excited yip warned Collin that he was not alone. He jammed his hammer into the loop on his tool belt and walked around to the front of the house. For the last few hours, he’d sweated out his depression on the house-in-progress while mulling over the things he’d read in Mia’s book.
As he stood in the front yard, chilled by winter wind on sweat, a caravan of familiar-looking vehicles wound down his driveway, stirred dry leaves and dust and elicited a cacophony of barking from the penned dogs. Happy danced on two feet and a pair of stubs, furry tail in overdrive, mouth stretched into a wide smile.
One fist propped on his hip, Collin blinked in bewilderment at the incoming traffic. Mia’s yellow Mustang led the pack, an entire invasion of Caranos.
“Hi Collin.” Mitch jumped out of Mia’s barely stopped car, wearing new jeans and an oversize OU jersey. Happy was all over him like honey glaze on ham, wiggling and whining, eyes aglow with love. Mitch laughed in delight and fell to the ground, pulling the dog onto his chest.
Adam bolted out of his red SUV and came charging across the yard, a mock scowl on his face. “Hey, squirt. Don’t be desecrating my OU jersey like that.”
Mitch leaped up, brushing away the dust. “Sorry, Adam.”
Mitchell had come a long way from the defiant kid Collin had picked up for shoplifting.
Adam ruffled his head. “Joking. The jersey is yours. I told you that.” He stuck a hand out toward Collin, his dark eyes sparking with the Carano humor. “As your lawyer, I have an obligation to tell you something.” He jerked his head toward the rest of the laughing, jabbering group who came toward the house loaded with boxes and dishes. “These women cooked a mega-meal. And any invited man who doesn’t show up to eat it could be in serious danger.”
“What is all this?”
“You know the old saying. If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, the mountain will come to him. So, the Caranos have moved Thanksgiving to your place.”
“You’re kidding.” Collin stared in amazement as the whole group trouped inside his house. A waft of incredibly delicious smells trailed them.
Adam clapped him on the back. “Caranos take their food seriously. Especially Thanksgiving food.”
The old feelings of inadequacy crowded in with the unexpected company. His house was tiny and his table impossibly small. How would they have a dinner inside there? How would they all even get inside?
But the undaunted Carano clan had thought of everything. From the back of a pickup came folding tables and chairs. He watched, unmoving for several long, bewildered minutes while all around him people laughed and joked and juggled boxes and covered dishes. Why had they done this? Why would Mia and her family go to so much trouble to bring Thanksgiving to a guy who was accustomed to having no holidays at all? Why did they care?
“Close your mouth, Collin,” Mia said as she swished past him smelling like sunshine and banana nut bread. “And take this into the house.”
Her smile warmed a cold place inside him.
He accepted the foil-wrapped package, still warm from the oven. “You didn’t have to do this.”
She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t say that to Mama.”
He didn’t understand this kind of family bond. He didn’t understand these people. They scared him and nurtured him and made him long to be someone he wasn’t. He didn’t know whether to run away from them or to them.
For today, he figured he didn’t have much say in the matter either way. If this was a game of tag, you’re it, he was it. Might as well make the best of the situation.
The twenty-odd people were a tight fit inside Collin’s home-in-progress, requiring some creative arrangement, but in no time at all his house smelled of the huge Thanksgiving dinner spread out before them on folding tables. Someone, Mia, he figured, had even thought of brown-and-orange tablecloths and a perky tissue-turkey centerpiece.
Around him, conversation ebbed and flowed. Nic, wearing a sweatshirt that proclaimed I’m going to graduate on time no matter how long it takes, wielded a carving knife and fork with a maniacal laugh that had the girls squealing.
As he watched the interaction of people who loved each other, some of the heavy sorrow lifted from Collin. Every time he hung out with the Caranos, he was overwhelmed with both yearning and fear. Yearning to be a part. Fear that he didn’t have what it took.
He removed a stack of plates from Mia’s hands and began to set them out in long rows.
“I hope you aren’t upset with our invasion
,” Mia said, her sweet eyes seriously concerned that he was angry with her. “I couldn’t stand to think of you out here alone on Thanksgiving.”
He’d figured Mia was the instigator. She had wanted to be here—with him—and the idea gave him a happy little buzz. Maybe he had it in him after all.
* * *
Dinner was over, but the pleasant zing of having Mia and her family in his house didn’t go away. The television blared a game between the Lions and the Cowboys which brought occasional shouts of victory from Adam and Nic. Gabe and his wife were deep into a game of Go Fish with their oldest child while the youngest was fast asleep in Collin’s bedroom. Mitchell was sprawled with his back against Leo’s knees, Happy in his lap. They all looked as full and drowsy and content as Collin felt.
Contentment was not a word he used very often. But something had happened to him today when Mia’s family had come onto his turf to draw him into their midst with food and love. If he dwelled on the idea, he’d probably get nervous and back off, so he chose to enjoy. His mind needed their exuberant distraction.
“I’m on KP,” he said, gently nudging Rosalie out from in front of his shiny stainless-steel sink. “Cleaning up is the least I can do.”
A chorus of groans issued from the Carano men.
“Traitor,” Nic grumbled.
“You’re starting a terrible precedent,” Adam called. “Next year, they’ll expect us to cook.”
This time the women hooted.
“Anna and I will help Collin, Mama. There’s really not room for more than three, anyway. You go sit down. You’ve cooked for three days.”
“Sounds good. I wanted to watch this game anyway.” Rosalie untied her apron and hung the starched poplin over the back of a chair. “When these tables are cleared, you boys get them folded and put out in the truck so we have room to play charades or something.”
“Will do, Mama.”
Rosalie bustled around the tables and squeezed a chair into a tiny space between the wall and Leo. Collin leaned toward Mia and murmured, “Your mom likes football?”
Mia looked up from scraping leftover yams into a container and grinned. He loved the way she always had a smile ready to share. “Mama doesn’t know a touchdown from a field goal, but she treasures the time with her boys.”
“Your family’s lucky to have her.”
Mia studied him, expression soft and understanding. “We’re very blessed.”
Blessed. Yeah, he could see that. But they worked at being a family, too. At this whole togetherness thing. They were a clear picture of how functional families made it happen. Sacrifice, commitment, overlooking each other’s quirks. He understood that now in a way he hadn’t before.
“I’ll wash. You dry. Dishtowels in that top drawer.” He took a heavy ceramic dish from her and dumped the empty bowl into the soapy water. “You Caranos are great cooks. I can’t believe I ate two pieces of pie.”
Mia reached for a rinsed glass and their arms brushed. Suddenly, he was remembering that disconcerting kiss.
“There’s more for later.”
He’d like that a lot. And he didn’t mean pie.
They made short work of the kitchen, Anna and Mia whisking dishes and leftovers from the tables while he scrubbed away. While the women carried on most of the conversation Collin listened, comfortable with their chatter.
“I think that’s the last one,” Mia said, taking a huge stainless pot from his drippy hands.
Collin looked around, saw the tables cleared, and pulled the plug. “Good. The animals are probably thinking I’ve abandoned them. Can you take over from here?”
“I can,” Anna said, her smile a mirror of Mia’s. “You two go on. I’ll finish up and make some fresh coffee, too.”
“I’m not arguing with a deal like that,” Mia said.
Nic popped up from his folding chair as Collin and Mia donned their coats. “Need any help?”
“We’ve got it. Thanks, anyway.” As much as he liked Nic and the other Caranos, he was ready to be alone. Well, almost alone.
Collin pushed the storm door open and waited for Mia to pass through. Her companionship no longer felt like an intrusion. He figured he should worry about that. Later.
Once outside he was tempted, if only for a split second, to take her hand. He settled for a hand under her elbow instead. A man had to form some kind of boundaries with a woman like Mia.
As they fell into step toward the lean-to that now served as shelter for the remaining animals, she glanced over at him. “You didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Perceptive.” Beneath a narrow slice of silver moon, the air had grown frosty. Collin’s breath puffed out beneath the bright yard light. Last night had been one of the worst nights of his life.
“The bags under your eyes gave you away.” She slowed her steps to rest one hand on his upper arm. Whether imagined or real, Mia’s warmth penetrated the sleeve of his thick coat. “How are you? Really.”
“Better now.” That surprised him. To know that family not his own could lift his spirits this much.
“I’m so sorry. Deeply, truly sorry. You have every right to be angry and hurt and grief-stricken. I wish I knew what to do to make things better.”
She already had. She and her rambunctious family with their big hearts and their open arms.
“Every holiday for more than twenty years, I’ve wondered about my brothers. I know what happened to Drew now, but what about Ian? Does he have a family to go home to? A wife and kids? Is he having turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie right this minute with a loving family?”
Or is he as lonely and messed up as me?
“We’re going to keep on believing and praying that he’s okay and that we are going to locate him. If we found information about Drew, we can find Ian.”
“I hope you’re right.” Maybe then the hole inside him would heal a little.
As they approached the pens, the animals moved restlessly, eager for their own Thanksgiving dinner. The colt whinnied a greeting. A cat meowed, followed by a chorus of kitten mews.
Even after losing six animals to the fire and making the decision to take no more until the barn was rebuilt, he still had too many animals. Caged up this way was no life for them and he hated the arrangement, though there was no other place for the strays to go. He’d ruled out the animal shelter knowing that sick animals wouldn’t be adopted and the alternative was euthanasia. Better with him than there. Some were well enough to move around inside a stall but not well enough to be safe from coyotes and other predators if he left them loose. The puppies and kittens were in borrowed cages that opened out to short, makeshift runs. The larger dogs were on chains next to borrowed dog houses. The grazing animals were the lucky ones, unaffected by the fire except for the loss of stall space.
He went to the row of barrels that contained a variety of animal feed. “I have to find a way to get this barn up faster.”
At the rate he was going, the barn wouldn’t be finished for a year. He had only one stall completed to house the sickest, and a chain-link run for the dogs.
Mia began to distribute dry dog food, stopping to give each animal an ear rub. “I’ll feed everyone while you take care of the medications.”
He gave her a grateful look. “Good idea.”
Panda, who had survived the fire and recovered sufficiently to be adopted, had yet to find a home, though her kittens had. Collin figured he’d never find a place for her. The mama cat allowed Collin or Mia to feed her, but otherwise she feared humans except for Mitchell.
“I thought this was Mitchell’s job,” Mia said, coming around the shadowy side of the lean-to.
Collin knelt on the ground dabbing antibiotic cream onto a pup’s stitches. “He’s through serving his time.”
“I know. But the responsibility has been good for him.”
“He’s changed a lot.”
“Thanks to you.” She handed him a roll of adhesive tape.
“And your family. Sometime
s I wonder what will happen to him.”
“His stepdad scares me.”
Collin looked at her sharply. She’d shoved her hands into her pockets. “Do you mean personally or professionally?”
Even in the halflight, he saw her frown. “Both. Since you told me of your suspicions, I want Mitch out of there, but…”
“But Mitch won’t tell you the truth.” He put the finishing touches on the bandage and stood. He was as frustrated as Mia over Mitch’s reluctance to give them a reason to move him to safety. And for all his watchfulness, Collin couldn’t find reasonable cause to pay Teddy Shipley an unexpected official visit.
“I think Mitch won’t talk because his mother is using, too. He’s afraid of what will happen to her.”
In his entire life, including twelve years on the force, Collin had seen nothing but horror come from drugs. He was lucky. Mia would say blessed. And maybe he was. Whichever, he’d somehow escaped the trap of drugs. Too many of the boys he’d known in the group homes were dead, in jail, or living lives of unspeakable despair because of drugs.
“If a meth lab is operating in that house, it’s only a matter of time until something bad goes down.”
Her voice was stunned. “Do you think that’s the case?”
“Maybe.” Probably. They were gathering more evidence daily.
A chill of fear trickled down his backbone. “Stay out of there, Mia. You hear me?”
“I’m afraid for him, Collin.”
“Me, too,” he admitted grimly. Collin knew the reality of Mitchell’s situation. Mia was an experienced professional, but she hadn’t lived the life. He had.
In silence, his thoughts churning, he put the medical supply box away and doubled-checked the cage latches for security. He couldn’t keep the whole world safe, but he could take care of these animals. And Mitchell, too, if the kid would only let him.
Mia tugged on the front of his coat. Her hair blew softly back from her face as she looked up at him. “Stop fretting. You can’t always be with him. But Jesus is.”
“‘He’ll never leave you nor forsake you,’” he quoted softly, the words of his keychain making more sense at that moment than they ever had.
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