Finding His Way Home

by Mia Ross

  “You mean like I suggested a couple weeks ago?” Her eyes narrowed. “Right before you shot me down?”

  Grinning, he dropped in for a quick kiss to soothe her temper. “To be fair, I shot your idea down, not you. But I’ll give you credit for it if you want.”

  She rewarded him with a megawatt smile. “Deal. Now, show me what you’ve got in mind.”

  He described his evolving plans, leading her from one section to another while he illustrated with his hands.

  “Fabulous,” she approved enthusiastically. “Plus you’ve got a built-in market through Barrett’s Mill Furniture. You play off their advertising and inventory. They get the kind of high-end custom pieces Chelsea’s been dying to offer their customers. It’s a win-win.”

  “Listen to you, sounding like some corporate bigwig. I think you’ve been hanging out with her too much.”

  “Or just enough. If I’m going to make a go of my art from here, I have to start thinking bigger. Set up a website so folks don’t have to come here to buy my work. Things like that.”

  “Maybe we could go in on it together.” Catching her hand, he reeled her into his arms where she belonged. “Y’know, share the costs and stuff.”

  “That depends,” she said, tapping his chin. “What exactly were you thinking of sharing with me?”

  He knew she was teasing him, but suddenly he wanted her to know exactly how he felt about her. Leaning in, he gave her a soft kiss. Then he gazed down into those incredible eyes and jumped.

  “Everything, Jenna. I’m still not sure what you see in me, but whatever I’ve got you’re welcome to it.”

  Meeting his tentative look with a confident one of her own, the smile she gave him warmed him right down to his toes. “Deal.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Every year on Mother’s Day, the Crossroads Church hosted a gathering for all the moms, grandmothers, aunts and motherly women in town. It was open to anyone who wanted to bring a dish to pass and spend a couple of hours at a picnic with their neighbors.

  Bruce Harkness had hauled his outdoor cookers across the street from The Whistlestop, and by the time Sunday service was over, the whole town smelled like his award-winning barbecue. Scott suspected that more than a few people who hadn’t been planning to attend had been drawn in by that tantalizing aroma. With stars-and-stripes bunting already strung everywhere for the upcoming parade, the event reminded him of Memorial Day, minus the parade and fireworks.

  “Wow, this is something else,” Jenna commented as they wedged themselves onto a bench beside Amy and Jason. “Around here, there aren’t usually this many folks all in one place unless there’s a football game.”

  Scott stared at her in disbelief. “You like football?”

  “As long as no one leaves in an ambulance. I know it’s not ballroom dancing, but I hate to see any of those boys get hurt.” He couldn’t get over it, and she laughed. “Don’t tell me—you played football in high school.”

  “All State wide receiver,” Jason boasted, clapping him on the shoulder. “Scott caught most of Paul’s touchdown passes their last year on the team together.”

  “Why am I not surprised to hear that?”

  “We’re Barretts,” Scott reminded her with a grin. “It’s what we do.”

  She rolled those gorgeous eyes at him, and he laughed. Not because of the conversation so much, but because it was a beautiful day, and he was surrounded by his kin, enjoying some of the best food in Virginia. They were jammed around two large picnic tables, and he did his best to keep up with several discussions flying around at once. Once everyone had filled their plates, Dad stood and waited for them to quiet down.

  “I know you’re all hungry, so I’ll keep this short. I want to say, for the record—” he smiled at Mom, then circled the tables with a fond look “—that it’s the women in this family who make it work. Day to day, year to year, you keep the rest of us on track and headed in the right direction. Without you, we’d all be lost.”

  “Because you wouldn’t stop for directions,” Mom added, blowing him an air kiss while she tapped her paper cup against his.

  As if on cue, the women all laughed, while the Barrett men grudgingly admitted it was the truth.

  “You can’t help it,” Jenna teased, nudging Scott’s shoulder. “It’s genetic.”

  “Yeah, I guess we can be pretty bullheaded.”

  Forking up some baked beans, she said, “Fortunately for you, I consider stubbornness to be a virtue.”

  “That’s my girl,” a feminine voice approved from behind them. “Tell it like it is.”

  Jenna’s hand stopped midair, and very deliberately, she set her fork back down on her plate. When their guest stepped into view, Jenna’s eyes darkened ominously, ended up somewhere near the color of thunderclouds.

  Uh-oh, Scott thought with a wince. He’d done it now.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a voice so lethally calm it sent chills up Scott’s spine. “How did you even find me?”

  “I think the phrase you’re looking for is Happy Mother’s Day.” A slightly older version of her daughter, Anastasia Reed had the same slender build and striking looks, with one major difference: she looked tired, as if life had started kicking her around at a young age and had worn her out long ago.

  Sensing this wasn’t going well, Scott got to his feet and offered his hand. “Ms. Reed, I’m Scott Barrett. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Same to you, handsome,” she simpered, giving him a leisurely once-over that made him want to squirm. “Good-looking and determined. You’ve got a winner here, Jenna.”

  The anger on Jenna’s face moments ago was nothing compared to the fury he saw there now. Clearly, he’d misjudged the comments she’d made during their romantic dinner, and tracking down her missing mother had been a horrible idea. Totally at a loss for what to do, he tried to stay calm and braced himself for a thorough dressing-down.

  But it never came.

  Without even glancing at him, Jenna climbed over the back of the bench and stalked away.

  Standing there feeling like a moron, Scott tried to make light of the awkward situation. He figured his family didn’t need to be in on this, so he angled Anastasia away from the tables filled with people obviously trying not to stare. “That went well.”

  “Actually, it did,” she told him with a slight grin. “I was expecting her to slug me.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. If I was in her place, that’s what I would have done.” When he just gaped at her, she shrugged. “Hurt feelings can run awful deep, and that makes forgiveness come hard. Coming here, especially today, might have been a mistake on my part.”

  “But that’s why I suggested Mother’s Day,” he protested, motioning back at the Barrett clan. “She loves my mom and my gram. We all think of her as one of the family. I was hoping if you saw each other again, she’d finally have a chance to air out those bad feelings. Then you two could start mending fences and at least be friends.”

  “You seem like a sweet guy, but let me tell you something about my daughter. All her life, she did things her own way. Whether she got that from me or learned it from me, I’m not sure. I made the first move to make things better between us, and now it’s up to her.” Taking a business card from the pocket of her fitted leather jacket, she handed it to Scott. “The address is old, but my cell number hasn’t changed. She can call me if she wants or not. It’s her choice, but please tell her—” Tears welled in her expertly made-up eyes, and she paused to collect herself. “What I did might have been wrong, but it was the only way I knew to give her a better life than she ever could’ve had with me. I think about her every day, and I’m so proud of what she’s accomplished.”

  He had no clue what to say, even less so when she reached into her oversize bag and p
ulled out a scrapbook. “Give this to her for me, would you? I might not see her again, and I want her to have it.”

  Scott wasn’t keen on upsetting Jenna any more than he already had. “Can I look at it first?”

  “Of course. It’s not top secret or anything.”

  The way she said it reminded him of Jenna. Even though he’d clearly stepped over a line, he couldn’t help feeling sad about Anastasia’s missed opportunity to reconnect with her daughter.

  “I’ll make sure she gets it, then. Have a good trip back to Macon.” She gave him a mournful smile, then turned and started walking toward a faded hatchback that had seen better days. As he watched her go, he thought about how much courage it must have taken for her to come here and wade into a sea of strangers, only to be cut down and sent away like some kind of criminal.

  He called out her name, and she glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  “You’ve got a long drive ahead of you. Would you like to have something to eat before you go?”

  Her eyes drifted over to the happy group, her wistful expression betraying just how much Jenna’s rejection had stung. “I don’t want to spoil your lunch.”

  “Not much chance of that. Besides, you came all this way, and it’d be a shame to send you home on an empty stomach.”

  “All right, then. If you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Giving her an encouraging smile, he waited for her and they strolled back to the picnic together. While he made the introductions, his family quickly shifted from confused silence to welcoming her, and his mother slid down the bench to make room for their visitor. Scott mouthed a thank-you, and before long, the two mothers were chatting away like old friends.

  It gave him time to catch his breath and finally have something to eat. Unfortunately, everything tasted like sawdust, and he laid his fork down with a sigh. Anastasia’s comment about forgiveness coming hard rang in his head like a melancholy bell warning him about some impending doom.

  By stepping into Jenna’s very personal business, he realized he’d intruded somewhere he didn’t belong. All he could do now was wait for her anger to recede enough so he could explain himself. And pray she could find a way to forgive him.

  * * *

  Just who did Scott Barrett think he was?

  Seeing her white fingers, Jenna realized she had the steering wheel of her van in a death grip and relaxed her hold enough for the blood to start circulating again. She hadn’t seen or heard from her mother in almost ten years and had done just fine on her own. Who was he to step into her private life in a clumsy attempt to reunite them? And today of all days, she railed silently, when people everywhere celebrated the women who loved them and made things better just by being there for them.

  Women such as Diane and Olivia Barrett and, before long, Chelsea, who anyone could see was going to make a terrific mom. Caring and attentive, they were all capable of anchoring a family and guiding them through whatever came their way.

  Not Anastasia Reed, though, Jenna thought grimly. Her visit hadn’t been about reuniting with Jenna, but about easing her guilty conscience. Jenna could easily imagine the conversation between Scott and her mother, one cajoling, the other playing hard to get the way she always did with men. In the end, she’d allowed him to “convince” her he was right and had agreed to come to Barrett’s Mill.

  “Typical,” she spat out, too angry to care that she was talking to herself. “The only person she’s ever cared about is herself.”

  At her studio, she managed to stop herself short of slamming the driver’s door like a four-year-old having a tantrum. Taking a few deep breaths, she stood with her keys in her hand, waiting for her temper to subside so she could think straight. As her thoughts began to make more sense, one rose to the surface with a clarity that was both frightening and sobering.

  Scott had betrayed her.

  Even in her current state, she recognized that his intentions had been admirable, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d intruded somewhere he had absolutely no business going. Jenna had worked long and hard to get past being abandoned by the woman who should have been around to take care of her. In one misguided leap, Scott had managed to rip open those old wounds and bring back the pain she’d tried so desperately to escape.

  Bad as that was, it was nothing compared to the pain of knowing she was the one who’d enabled him to do this to her. Against her better judgment, she’d allowed him to get close enough to hurt her. As much as it disgusted her to admit it, apparently she was her mother’s daughter, after all.

  Feeling defeated by her own stupidity, Jenna slunk into her darkened workroom and locked the door behind her. Tossing her keys and cell phone on a table, she crossed her arms and surveyed the tidy space, searching for something that might lift her spirits.

  A glint of dark blue drew her attention to the chapel window hanging in its frame near the glass-front door. A sliver of sunlight had sneaked in around the drawn shade, finding its way to what she considered to be the most magnificent piece she’d ever had the privilege of working on. Strolling over to it, she couldn’t help smiling as she admired the artist’s vision and the skill it had taken to breathe life into such a fragile medium.

  What had begun as a tribute to Will Barrett had become even more important to her because of Gretchen. Brought together by personal tragedy and their love of art, the two of them had formed a very special bond that meant as much to Jenna as any she’d ever experienced.

  Except for one, she amended sadly, and blinked away a rare rush of tears. Optimistic by nature, she normally had little trouble keeping her less positive emotions in check. She confronted them, gave them a quick smack and moved on. Furious as she still was with Scott, she had a feeling it would take a lot more than that to get over him. Deeming him no longer trustworthy, her mind had already decided she’d be wise to leave him behind.

  Her heart, however, was telling her a whole different story.

  Arguing with herself was usually a pointless exercise in frustration, but she couldn’t exactly ask someone else for advice. She’d painted herself into this corner, ignoring her better judgment to take a chance on someone who, until this morning, she’d considered worth the risk. What had really changed? she wondered as she sat down on a work table.

  Her mother’s unexpected—and unwelcome—reappearance had rocked her much more than she’d have thought possible until it happened. But why? Jenna was a grown woman now, and she had a good life despite the challenge of overcoming her mother’s abandonment. While she pondered the root cause of her distress, gradually she realized she was going in circles and was no closer to an answer than she’d been when she’d started.

  Sighing, she gave in to that helpless feeling and offered up a heartfelt prayer for guidance. She closed her eyes to blot out all the distractions around her and simply listened. After a few minutes, the answer filtered in, reminding her of the sunlight coming through the stained-glass window she and Gretchen had so painstakingly restored.

  The real problem wasn’t that her mother had resurfaced. It was that she’d come to Barrett’s Mill, the one place Jenna valued enough to consider putting down roots and making a home. This was her place, and the last person she wanted to share it with was the woman who’d walked out on her and never looked back. Immature, maybe, but that was how she felt.

  The question now was, what should she do about it?

  While she was debating with herself, she heard a soft knock on the door. It didn’t take a genius to know who was standing on the other side, and as nasty as it was, she was sorely tempted to ignore her visitor.

  “Jenna, I know you’re here,” Scott began in an apologetic drawl. “And I get why you don’t wanna see me. Your mom left you something, and once you see it, I think you’ll be glad to have it. I’m just gonna leave it out here and go.”


  After a few seconds, she heard his shoes crunching on the gravel in the driveway.

  Don’t let him go, a small but insistent voice in the back of her mind urged. It was her intuition, and any other time she would have followed it without reservation. This situation was different, though, and she hesitated.

  Her internal tug-of-war resumed with a vengeance, but this time she recognized how futile her resistance was. Out front, Scott’s pickup refused to start, and she glanced up with a little smile. “Okay, I get it. I’m going.”

  Unlocking the door, she went out and strolled over to the cranky sawmill truck. The wheezing starter finally conked out and did nothing but click when he turned the key. Groaning in exasperation, he banged his forehead on the steering wheel, and his shoulders heaved with a sigh so deep she almost could feel it herself.

  Furious as she was with him, she didn’t have the heart to let him suffer this way. He was just a man, after all. Relationships baffled the best of them.

  Reaching through the open window, she rubbed his back in a comforting gesture. Since scolding him would only add to his misery, she opted for humor. “You really need to get yourself a new truck.”

  He swiveled his head to look out at her, his expression a treacherous mixture of sorrow and anger. “Ya think?”

  “Don’t snarl at me,” she snapped, yanking her hand back the way she would with an unpredictable dog. “I’m just trying to help you.”

  “So, when you do it, it’s okay, but when I do it, I’m the worst guy in the world?”

  He had a point, but she wasn’t in the mood to be making concessions. With him seated in the truck, they were at eye level with each other, and she glared at him for all she was worth. “Those two scenarios are completely different, and you know it.”

  Something shifted in his eyes, and his stony expression gave way to a wry grin. “Yeah, but Mom said I was wrong and had to come tell you so.”

  “That sounds like her.” She was still mad at him, but she couldn’t help smiling. “Do you feel like a little kid again?”