by Jamie Beck
After he left she noticed the hum of the fridge, the tick of the vintage wall clock. The sounds of the lonely life she’d grown accustomed to before Alec reminded her of what she’d been missing.
“I’m not surprised.” Alec’s mother stared at the pine trees aligning the road along the drive home from visiting Gram. “You always liked Colby.”
Given Colby’s circumspection, he’d considered keeping their relationship quiet awhile longer. But that would be another secret, and he could barely shoulder the crippling weight of the others.
“She’s always been special—the way she puts others’ feelings first.” Alec recollected the earliest signs of that trait and realized her protective stance toward his staff should never have surprised him. “The empathy she’s had for others. How she quietly goes about making sure people know they matter. She makes me feel like I matter.”
“You matter to me.” His mom looked affronted.
“That’s different. Plus, look at how she’s survived everything with Mark and Joe. She’s not bitter and broken. She’s taking risks with a new career, with me. How can someone not admire her?” He needed his mom to accept Colby because he knew his father would not. “You used to like her, Mom.”
“She’s lovely, but it’s complicated. Your father . . .” More silence preceded a sigh.
“My coming home hasn’t made things better.”
“It has for me.” She patted his thigh. “I love spending time together, honey.”
Alec aimed for optimism. “Maybe he’ll surprise us, especially when he hears about the memorial fund. Doing something in Joe’s name should please him.”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother’s grimace. “He’ll hate having it share Mark’s name.”
“Mark didn’t push Joe off that cliff.” Alec took his misgivings out on his hair, raking his hand through it for the fifth or sixth time in the past forty-five minutes. “At some point, don’t we have to accept that fact?”
“It’s brutal, Alec. Losing a child . . . you want someone to blame—someone other than your child.” Her voice wobbled, making him regret causing her to defend her feelings. “It’s not logical, but grief rarely is.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. But blaming Colby is as tenuous as blaming yourselves for moving next door to the Cabots.”
“I’ve had that thought, too.” She blew out a sigh. “The ‘if onlies’ are numbing.”
Numbing? That’d be a nice change from the way his “if onlies” ate at his conscience like acid. He didn’t have the courage to confess his fight with Joe, but maybe sharing his role in Mark’s suicide would convince his mom that forgiveness mattered for everyone’s sake.
“I need to tell you something else.” His rough voice startled her.
“What, honey?”
“A week before Mark killed himself, he’d sent me a suicidal apology note. I didn’t take the threat seriously, so I didn’t respond or warn Colby.” His chest grew heavy while thinking back on Colby’s teary plea last night. “If I’d have said something, Colby wouldn’t have witnessed that violent death and become a widow. She might even be a mother by now.”
His mom absorbed his confession in silence for several seconds. “Does Colby know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Take your pick: shock, horror, shame. I was still reeling from Joe’s funeral and could barely concentrate at work.” He shook his head. “When Hunter told me what happened, I didn’t see the point of a too-late apology. As time passed, Hunter said she was healing, so it seemed unfair to dredge it up just to ease my conscience.”
When Alec saw his mother’s skeptical expression, he said, “I know, Mom. That’s part of why I left town, and also one reason I came back. I’d planned to make it up to her. To make sure she found some happiness again. The job gave me that chance. Then yesterday, when things got personal, I tried to confess, but she begged me not to make her talk about the past.”
His mother rubbed her temple, as she was prone to do when thinking. “Mark could be so dramatic; I understand why you didn’t take his threat seriously.” She clucked to herself. “If Colby doesn’t want to discuss the past, why tell me this?”
“So you understand why the memorial fund should be in both names.” When she appeared confused by his logic, he added, “If our family blames Mark for Joe’s death, then I’m at least as culpable in Mark’s.”
His mom’s face twitched, but she didn’t say anything. He turned onto Lakeshore Drive, although the familiar streets of Lake Sandy—quaint storefronts with overflowing flower boxes—offered no comfort.
When they passed Leslie Cabot’s house, his heart skipped at the sight of Colby’s car. Despite everything that could go wrong, a smile formed at the thought of Leslie’s reaction. His smile deflated when he parked in his parents’ driveway. “I’ll wait to talk to Dad until you aren’t around.”
She stared out the window, biting her thumbnail. “No. If I’m in the room, he might restrain himself.”
“I can handle him.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” She touched his cheek before opening her door. “I don’t care how old you are, you’re still my baby.”
“I don’t need you as a buffer, Mom.”
“I didn’t fight hard enough for you in the past, so I won’t let you stop me from trying now. Besides, this is a family matter.” Her determined stare warned him she wouldn’t back down.
He surrendered in order to preserve his energy for taking on his dad. The ground beneath him seemed uneven as he walked with her into the house. Perhaps he shouldn’t charge in and blow up a powder keg to be with Colby, especially when her feelings weren’t yet dependable.
“You’re back.” His father looked up from the television, expression neutral, as if the other week’s insults hadn’t occurred. He’d always been that way. Screaming and cursing one day, then acting as if everything was fine the next. “What’s for dinner?”
“Grilled chicken salad.” His mom set her purse on the entry table, looking battle weary.
“Rather have a burger or ribs.” His dad grinned before tossing back a fistful of peanuts.
“I’d rather keep your cholesterol down.” His mom smiled pleasantly and took a seat on the sofa, moving the can of nuts to the end table out of his reach. “Alec, will you be staying for dinner?”
“No, I’ve got plans.” He stood stiffly, wishing he could find some way to connect with his dad instead of picking this battle.
Alec gathered his courage, remembering his mom’s story about Grandpa and trying to convince himself that his father’s bitterness toward him sprang from envy, not antipathy. Of course, as soon as his dad learned about Colby, it could turn into both. Things might get worse before they got better, but surely his father would eventually accept her.
His father’s gaze flicked to him. “I was a cop, remember? Despite what you think, I did more than eat donuts on the job. You two just spent the whole day together, so I’m pretty sure your mom already knows about your plans. If this is an opening to tell me something unpleasant, just out with it already.”
Rather than soft-pedal, Alec channeled Joe and jumped right in. “I have a date. With Colby.”
His father stared at him. Nothing moved. Not a brow, a nostril, a hair on the man’s head. He didn’t even blink for what seemed like an hour. The pained shock on his face caused an ache in Alec’s chest.
When his dad finally spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. “You have no sense of family loyalty.”
Alec’s heart caved in on itself. Years of turning the other cheek for the good of the family had gone unappreciated by his dad. By Joe. “That’s not true.”
“That girl—” Disdain colored his dad’s tone.
“‘That girl’ has a name,” Alec interrupted. “That girl gave me a job. That girl, our lifelong neighbor, grieves for her friend Joe.” Alec crossed his arms, anticipating the need for additional protection. “In fact, Colby and I are starting a m
emorial fund in Joe’s and Mark’s names to raise money for the homeless. We’re planning a fund-raiser at the restaurant. This could be an opportunity for our two families to heal.”
“Like hell you’ll link your brother’s name with the man who killed him.” His father sprang out of his recliner. “What’s wrong with you?”
Fortunately, Alec stood far enough outside his father’s range to avoid being showered with spittle. He didn’t flinch, although he wondered whether his dad might actually strike him. Alec had anticipated blowback, but not the level of animosity he saw in his father’s eyes. For the first time he realized he might never find a way to hold on to both his family and Colby. He glanced at his mother and knew, if handed an ultimatum, he’d be forced to sacrifice his own happiness. Quietly, he said, “Mark didn’t kill Joe.”
“He sure as hell did.” His dad lunged forward, now inches away, face tight with fury.
“Frank,” came his mother’s stern warning. Alec wished she’d leave. It’d be easier to deal with his dad if he didn’t have to worry about her feelings. But she’d made her choice, and he had to see this through.
“Mark didn’t push Joe, Dad.” Alec stood tall.
“Daring Joe to jump was like handing a gun to a criminal and expecting him not to shoot. As far as I’m concerned, Mark Baxter should’ve been charged with negligent homicide.”
“You know the law better than that. Besides, Mark suffered for what he did. So much so, he jumped off his balcony in front of his wife. He paid a steep price for making that dare. Does Colby have to keep paying, too? And me? Mom?” Alec gestured toward her, the one person he believed his dad did still love. “When can all the suffering end?”
“Why should anyone else’s suffering end?” His father’s grief-stricken face collapsed, his voice as close to a sob as Alec had ever heard. “Mine sure as shit hasn’t, and it never will.”
The pain radiating through the room stilled everyone, as if one wrong move would trigger a cataclysmic explosion. Alec didn’t know which scared him more, seeing his dad’s anger or witnessing his vulnerability. Hesitantly, he reached out to comfort, but his father shrugged him off.
Another rejection nicked at his heart. That muscle had more scars than both his hands and forearms put together.
“Dad.” His own eyes stung. “Colby lost her friend and then, less than three months later, her husband. Maybe if our family had stopped blaming Mark, he wouldn’t have jumped.”
“You think I give a shit about Mark Baxter?” his dad shouted. “As far as I’m concerned, he got what he deserved.”
“Did Colby?” Alex shot back, desperate to make headway so he wouldn’t have to choose sides. “If you can’t muster any sympathy for her, can you at least stop treating her like the enemy?”
His father shook his head. “You want to work for her, lay her, start a foundation with her, go be my guest. But don’t expect me to like it. And don’t make her out to be the victim. Joe was the victim.” He circled his hand around the room. “We’re the victims.”
“Frank, enough!” Alec’s mom stood, but his father waved her off and stormed out of the house. They heard him zoom down the driveway before he peeled off to God-knows-where.
“That went well.” Alec made a face at his mother.
“Nothing got broken. It could’ve been worse.”
“You think he’ll come around?” Alec needed her to tell him yes, even if she was lying.
“I don’t know.”
Chapter Twelve
“I can’t believe it,” Colby’s mom uttered for the third or fourth time since learning about Alec.
Stitch wandered into the living room and made himself comfortable on that old afghan, staring at Colby like an inquisitor who knew exactly what she was thinking.
“You think it’s a mistake?” She looked away from the wise old cat to her mom, although why her mother’s opinion on love meant anything remained a puzzle.
“Do you think so?” Her mother sipped her seltzer, legs curled beneath her like a young girl. The deep cushions of the corduroy sofa nearly swallowed her petite frame.
“More like a gamble.” An all-or-nothing kind of bet.
Her mom patted Colby’s knee for encouragement. “It’s time to get back on the horse, whatever happens. Besides, Alec is very handsome.”
“Handsome is irrelevant.”
Her mom cocked a brow and snorted.
“Fine, his looks are a bonus. But that’s not what got to me. Alec knows me and cares about my happiness. He’s patient. He’s obsessed with making my restaurant a success. And the way he looks at me . . .” She paused, body flushing from that perfect kiss. It had branded her. “I just wish I knew how it will turn out.”
“The unknown is half the fun.” Her mom shrugged. “Speaking of unknowns, how’d Hunter react?”
Colby leaned forward, knowing her next words would please her mom immeasurably. “You’re the first to know.”
Her mother’s mouth fell open. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“I’m the first?” She set down the drink, a delighted smile distorting her cheeks.
“Yes, Mom. The very first.” Colby chuckled at this simple side of her mom. Needy? Sure. But also easily enthused.
“I’m so proud that you confided in me first. Before Sara, even! It absolutely makes my day.” Then her mother’s expression became one of self-pity. “Almost erases my depression about Richard.”
Uh-oh.
Depression? The word still called forth visceral memories, making Colby’s pulse flutter until she reminded herself that her mom tossed it around every time she felt anything less than bliss. “I thought you really liked him.”
“I do!” She dismissively waved a hand, her frown solidifying into feigned resolve. “I did, anyway.”
No one performed self-possessed nonchalance like her mother. Colby couldn’t decide whether to admire it or be wary.
In any case, the news rocked her. Richard and her mom’s relationship had encouraged her to consider dating. He’d seemed so sweet; her mom had been so happy. Wrong again? Not exactly news that boosted Colby’s confidence about her instincts. “What happened?”
“He broke it off.” Suspiciously pink cheeks hinted at a story.
Colby crossed her arms. “Why?”
Rather than look at Colby, her mom stared at the throw-pillow fringe she was tugging. “Snickers.”
“The imaginary dog?”
“Yes.” She wrinkled her nose.
Softening her tone, Colby asked, “He busted you?”
Her mom nodded.
“How?”
“I was careless.” She shook her head in a self-pitying manner. “I invited him here for dinner last night. I even cooked.”
Colby stifled a chuckle. “Are you sure the dinner isn’t why he ran?”
“I used to cook all the time,” her mother defended. “Maybe not like Alec, but I can cook.”
“I’m teasing, Mom.” Colby squeezed her hand. “Back to Snickers.”
“We were enjoying a perfect evening out on the deck, actually. Stargazing to Kenny Garrett’s Triology.” A dreamy expression signaled that her mom had traveled back to that moment, but then her smile drooped. “When we came inside, I took some things into the kitchen and left him milling around here. I returned to find him studying the photos of you, your brother . . . Stitch. He quizzed me about why Snickers wasn’t in any.”
“Oh, no.” Colby covered her mouth with her hands. She shouldn’t giggle, but this sounded like a cheesy sitcom episode.
“I was so flustered. I mean, I hadn’t thought about that, you know.” She stared into space while gulping more soda. “I had two choices. Keep fibbing or fess up.”
“So you confessed.”
“I did.” She sighed and sat back, now stretching out her legs. “I’d hoped he might chuckle about the lengths I went to in order to spend time with him.”
“He didn’t see the humor?”
“N
o! He was ‘deeply troubled’ by my lie, and by how I made Hunter lie. Said he couldn’t be with someone so dubious.” Shaking her head, she added, “I mean, really. Dubious.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Breakups. Another kind of special hell relationships often bring. In fact, Colby might be sitting on this couch crying over Alec someday.
“He acted like I lied about another man or something.” Her mother snorted. “Honestly, he overreacted.”
Perhaps he had, but Colby couldn’t completely dismiss his uneasiness. “Some people think if you’re willing to lie about something frivolous, then you’ll definitely lie when the stakes are high.”
Alec had lied to Joe to cause pain and then kept it a secret for years. Might he also lie to or keep secrets from her? After a marriage riddled with half-truths, that idea held no appeal.
“Don’t pretend you’ve never fibbed.” Her mother rolled her eyes. “Everyone tells white lies. Most people tell real lies once in a while, too.”
“Maybe.” In truth, Colby hadn’t been completely honest with anyone in years. Where exactly was the line between protecting one’s privacy and lying? And would she and Alec agree on that line? “But you can’t be shocked when a lie causes you to lose someone’s respect, either.”
“Let’s not discuss this anymore.” Her electric-blue eyes dimmed.
Fine with Colby. What business did she have telling anyone what to do, anyway? What mattered was that her mother was hurting because her boyfriend broke up with her. That sucked at any age. “Give him a day or two. Then call or send a note.”
“No.” Her mom huffed, bravado rebuilding. “I can’t be with someone who expects perfection. Who wants me to wear the right clothes, say all the right things, and all that.”
“Did he criticize your clothes?”
“Of course not.” Her mother’s eyes widened, indignant. “I have fabulous taste!”
“I’m confused.” Colby resisted slapping her forehead.
“It’s a slippery slope. If a man won’t accept a little mistake about this, then he’ll never forgive a mistake about that or the other. These things always start the same: they love you for being unique and spontaneous until they lull you into feeling secure. Then come the criticisms and the ‘Don’t do that’ and ‘Why can’t you do this?’ demands. You twist into a pretzel to please them, and they end up leaving, anyway.”