“Don’t talk. Sit down.” Lucas unfurled his six-foot height and scowled.
Josh gritted his teeth hard as he pulled a chair close and dropped down into it. Taking orders never sat well with him. Under any other circumstance, he’d have insisted he wanted to stand. But this was about Amanda, and he needed to know what was going on.
“That land belongs to Emma, an’ ’Manda and I are the only ones who seem to give a damn. Tyler left it to her when he died. Only, he left ’Manda bills she didn’t know about. They were upside down in their house, an’ her mom’s is double-mortgaged to cover the cancer treatments. ’‘Manda’s flower shop is falterin’, and Tyler’s damn mouth made his family hate her.” He crossed the room, stopping at the doorway to give Josh a hard glare. “They were gettin’ divorced over you. Over ’Manda’s feelings for you. And Tyler put Sandra as the trustee on his land. Sandra can do whatever she damn well wants with that land. ’Cause Emma belongs to ’Manda, she’s goin’ to yank it away from her.”
“What about the taxes? Why’d she make it sound like if they were paid, she’d keep the land? How much are they anyway?”
Lucas shook his head. “’Manda kept up the taxes the first two years after Tyler’s death. He didn’t provide any money to cover them, and Sandra agreed that as long as ’Manda kept ‘em up, she wouldn’t do anythin’ with the land. The last three years, ’Manda hasn’t been able to manage them. She owes six thousand dollars, give or take, and if she doesn’t get ’em paid by the first, Sandra’s sellin’ to her company.”
Common sense revolted against Lucas’ explanation. If the land meant that much to Amanda, why in the hell wouldn’t she let him bring her current? “Why won’t she take my money?”
“Josh,” Lucas barked, “Get it through your head. You’ve been gone. You chose to leave her, me, and everyone else behind when you accepted that scholarship to K-State. We all had plans together—college at the University of Central Missouri, an’ a future out of this godforsaken place. You abandoned everything! You can’t come back in here an’ expect to fix it with a wave of your magic wand.”
Josh drew back, the force of Lucas’ tempered explosion recoiling through him like a shotgun blast. So much venom lay beneath his even tone, hurt that shone through his narrowed eyes.
“Things’ve happened you can’t even imagine,” Lucas snapped as he stalked out of the kitchen, only to return with a small checkbook. He tossed it in on the table where it skidded to a stop at Josh’s elbow.
“That’s a fraction of the trouble ’Manda’s in. She ordered me to keep records so she could pay it all back. I don’t give a damn if I never see a dime of it. She’s not goin’ to accept your help. I have to go behind her back most of the time to do the things I’ve done.”
Josh picked it up, fingering the plastic cover as Lucas unloaded. He didn’t want to look. Wouldn’t. He had a good idea what he’d find would only make him more frustrated over her refusal to accept his help.
“You want to help her the most? Stop tryin’ to fix it. You can’t erase the guilt over Tyler’s death. You can’t make a little girl know a father who never saw her. You can’t kill Amanda’s determination to stand on her own, somehow, an’ make up for all the things she thinks she needs to.”
“What kind of things?” Josh asked slowly. “And what do you mean Tyler didn’t see Emma?”
Lucas raked a hand through his cropped hair and leaned both hands on the counter, staring out the window. “Tyler died three days before Emma was born. Sandra blames ’Manda. Says Tyler would’ve never gone out that night if they hadn’t been fightin’. That’s why she doesn’t care what she does with Emma’s land. Sandra doesn’t even want anything to do with her niece.”
Josh sucked in a sharp breath. Amanda hadn’t told him. Had, in fact, presented things like Tyler had been around a great deal.
“I was there when ’Manda spent nineteen hours in labor. Not you, Josh. Though she wanted you there. I was there when her mom died. You didn’t even send a card. I’ve been there every time you’ve walked out of her life. Eight years, and you didn’t even phone. I’ve picked up the goddamn pieces of ’Manda’s life so many times while you were on your sabbatical in Kansas City blissfully unaware. That’s the only reason she lets me help. Because I went through it all with her. Until you can comprehend all of that, Josh, there’s not a damn thing you can do.”
Another chunk of the towering walls Josh erected around himself cracked and tumbled as Lucas’ bitter words sank in. Only this time, instead of merely exposing his guarded heart, a jagged piece sliced across it and left him raw. Did Amanda resent him as Lucas did? Beneath all her tender words, all her loving touches, did she blame him for what she’d been through?
“Luc, I didn’t…”
“Know? That’s my point.” He shook his head again, a slow, condescending side-to-side motion. “I don’t know how she’s managed to love you through it all. There’ve been times I’ve hated you. She blames herself. Her mom. Gives you a fair share of the fault, but she’s never stopped carin’. Never stopped hopin’.”
Josh squinted against the rolling emotions in his gut. A marriage she didn’t want, a child she never planned, all the death, all the struggle…Amanda deserved so much more. He wouldn’t have blamed her for hating him. She ought to. In every major event of her life, he’d failed her.
Yet in some twisted fashion, he understood why she didn’t hate him. She knew him. Knew, though his actions certainly told a different story, behind all the terrible things he’d done, how much she meant to him.
“You waltz back into town an’ want to give her dreams from long ago. Take her to Kansas City, give her a fancy house. Things change, Josh. ’Manda’s life’s here. Emma’s life’s here. Askin’ her to leave only makes it feel like runnin’ away. Their dreams are different now. Emma wants to be Homecomin’ Queen, like her mom. Emma wants her own star quarterback. Amanda…” Lucas bowed his head and took a deep breath. “’Manda’s only ever dreamed of you.”
Josh swallowed as he set the checkbook back down on the table. What Lucas implied only reinforced Olivia’s remark—all or nothing. He either had to give Amanda everything he was or accept nothing. He couldn’t sit in the middle of the fence and expect her to live on both sides.
He pushed the uncomfortable sensations aside, focusing instead on the logic he found far more comfortable. Dreams, pride, everything aside, Amanda needed to decide which was more important—saving the land and accepting his money, or letting Sandra buy it for at least twice what it was worth. There wasn’t a middle ground in that equation. Even if the flower shop were operating at full capability, it wouldn’t generate six thousand dollars before year-end. If Amanda thought it would…she was living in a fantasy.
Lucas turned around, his dark eyebrows tight with censure. “You shouldn’t have come back, Josh. Should’ve stayed up there in your fancy city with your big name. It’d been easier on everyone.”
Rising to his feet, Josh clenched his jaw as he balled one hand into a fist. “You’re wrong, Luc,” he argued with quiet vehemence. “I should have come back—just a lot sooner than I did.”
Gathering his strength, and conviction, he squared his shoulders. Stubborn defiance settled into his veins. “I shouldn’t have left, but I can’t change that. I need to go.”
“Don’t go out in that mess. I’ve got a guest room.”
Josh shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for dinner.”
He zipped up the coat he hadn’t removed and let himself out, trudging through the slick covering of snow. Sleet pelted his face, bounced off the walk and the hood of his car. A thin film of ice covered his driver’s door, forcing him to give it a mighty yank before he could crawl inside.
Starting the engine, he sat there rubbing his hands together, staring at the dash’s dull glow. Lucas was right, he couldn’t just drive into Lexington and pick up where he’d left off, no matter how willing Amanda seemed. He’d missed s
o much, so many important things. His best friend didn’t have an ounce of respect for him. Sure, there were things that no wrong in the world could undo, but he’d lost Lucas’ respect by acting like his own father. The very man he was afraid of becoming.
Was it possible, in trying to avoid turning into his father, he’d done exactly that? He’d run away from everything, just like his dad hid in the bottle. Was one worse than the other? At the time, he hadn’t known what else to do. Eight years ago, when he came back for his father’s funeral and stayed with Amanda, he woke up in the middle of the night terrified that if he lost her, he’d fall to pieces.
Exactly what happened to his dad.
He left, without a word, knowing if he told Amanda that she’d convince him into staying. Every particle of his being demanded he run, and he gave in. But what had it cost?
His tires spun as he gave the car some gas. Easing off, he tried again, depressing the pedal more slowly. He rolled back at an ant’s pace, skidding a little as he braked to shift into first. He dropped it into second instead and eased along at a crawl, mindful of the slick roads. Where he would have gone west to Amanda’s, he went east, turning south on 20th Street and heading toward Bloom. Toward the one house he’d absolutely vowed never to look at again.
His.
Navigating down the icy roads was tricky, but Josh kept his speed slow, his eyes focused on the road, and he trained his thoughts to driving, not the apprehension bubbling inside. As he turned onto the block, the house stood dark, no sign of the family Olivia and he sold it to.
He pulled into the drive, turned off his headlights, and killed the engine.
Ducking forward for a better view, he took in the old place. A new coat of paint changed it from an olive shade to a pale blue, almost grey, color. They’d alternated the gables and eaves in a darker shade which gave the sad exterior fresh life.
The window to his old room had Barbie decals plastered against the glass, telling him some young girl occupied it now. Would she ever find the loose floorboard where he’d stashed all the things he wanted to hide from his dad—a pack of cigarettes, a box of condoms, a dirty magazine, and the only joint he’d ever smoked. Josh couldn’t help but chuckle. But on the heels of the fond memory, another rose, a vision of his father passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of whiskey turned over on the coffee table.
Like he’d ever had to hide anything from his dad.
Josh sighed as his gaze canvassed the house’s exterior. It fell on the front porch where he’d broken his arm trying to climb the trellis, shortly after they moved in. The same front porch he and Amanda had their first argument on when she caught him trying to avoid going shopping in the city with her.
He looked at the old oak tree where he and Lucas had imagined they were Robinson Caruso and built a fort with old wood they dragged home from the construction site across the street. His dad had been furious with them for building it in the front yard, instead of the back, but in the end, his mom soothed it all over, and he and Lucas got their tree house. His dad even helped build it the right way.
A sickening feeling churned Josh’s stomach, and he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking his imagination from creating the last memory he held of this place. The sheriff had called him at K-State; they’d pulled him out of Trigonometry. Josh hadn’t seen the carnage, but the moment Sheriff Newsom said his dad shot himself in the bathtub, Josh could see the blood, the gore, the particles of brain matter splattered on the tiles. The gun lying on the floor.
His father’s world had revolved around his mother. Everything they did as a family, everything his mother wanted, his dad busted his tail at the factory in Warrensburg to see happen. When she announced she loved another man, it hadn’t just made Josh hate her for breaking up their family, he despised her for what she did to his father. She broke him with that confession.
He sucked in a deep breath, the vivid imagery tugging at his mind, but not yet leaping into full detail. Opening his eyes, he stared at the door.
Amanda made him forget the nightmare of his father’s drinking and the disappointment that came with every missed football game, every forgotten practice. He’d spent more time at her mother’s house than he had at home. To his knowledge, Amanda told no one he’d even cried in front of her. Not a little trickle of saddened tears, but all-out humiliating sobs one afternoon while her mother was at the flower shop.
Amanda erased that pain.
It was his turn now. His turn to erase hers.
Starting the car once more, he backed into the street, pointing the nose west in the direction of her house.
As he turned the corner, his traction gave. Caught up in thoughts of what he needed to do, he over-corrected. The car careened sideways toward a deep drainage ditch.
He tapped on the brakes, but it was futile. The ice offered no traction. His back passenger tire slid off the road, and the car shifted, leaning with gravity. The driver’s side rear tire sank next, and with it, the car tumbled sideways, its mass pulling it off the road into a deep ditch.
Nineteen
Amanda hit the button on the remote control, turning off The Little Mermaid, and leaned her head back on the headboard with a sigh. Guilt was a terrible emotion.
It made her want to do all kinds of ridiculous things, like apologize to Josh. Or worse, wander downstairs and ask him to come up to bed.
With the way he’d slammed her front door, he probably wouldn’t consider coming up to bed on his own, and if she asked, he’d make sure it came with a good piece of his mind. But the idea of sleeping without his arms around her only made her feel empty inside. As mad as she was over his agreement with Sandra, she’d rather have his comfort than a vacant pillow. Come to think of it…had he come back?
She glanced over at Emma, smiling at the way she had her hands folded beneath her cheek and the innocence in her expression. She’d drifted off not long after the movie started, having stuffed herself full of pepperoni pizza and already finished with Cinderella.
Reaching across Emma’s little body, Amanda pulled the quilt over her bare feet and picked up the half-full pizza box. Putting it in the fridge would give her a good excuse for going downstairs. Maybe she could make her invitation to bed seem casual, not like she deliberately planned it.
She quietly crossed the room and started down the stairs. But at the foot, she found the living room dark, except for the blinking lights from the Christmas tree. The television was silent, and as she glanced at the door, she noticed Josh’s shoes were missing.
He couldn’t still be out, could he? In this weather?
With a half-hearted toss, she threw the box onto the table and wandered into the living room to glance over the side of the couch, checking to see if he’d fallen asleep.
Ten-thirty at night, and no Josh.
Her gaze strayed to the window. Outside, glistening against the glimmer of streetlights, ice clung to the trees, dangled in long jagged points from her gutters. The pitter of rain, mixed with the light ping of sleet, danced against the glass.
Amanda’s heart thumped. The hairs along the back of her neck rose, and she shivered, the similarity to Tyler’s fateful night, eerily chilling. Fighting back her worry, she went to the small table in the far corner of the room and picked up the phone.
Lucas’ number flew off her fingers.
As the line rang, she instructed herself to stay calm. Josh had more sense about things than to try driving in this kind of weather. He never took unnecessary risks, particularly in a car. He hadn’t been near as angry when he left either. Tyler had been beyond furious. Josh was just pissed off.
“’Lo?” Lucas’ voice held a gravelly tone, as if she’d woken him.
“Luc, have you seen Josh?”
He cleared his throat, and asked in a stronger voice, “Sorry, ’Manda, what did you say? I fell asleep watchin’ the news.”
“Have you seen Josh?” The unmistakable sound of panic rang in her ears. She clut
ched the receiver a little tighter.
“He’s not with you?”
Oh, God, he wasn’t with Lucas either. Amanda’s fears surged past her self-control. She tried to still her tongue and bite the worry off but failed miserably. Words rushed out in a flurry. “We had an argument, and he left. He was mad, Luc. And the weather…It’s just like Tyler. Oh, God, Lucas, I can’t do this! I can’t lose Josh like this too! Not Josh. I was mad, but I didn’t really mean he had to leave. I’d take it all back in a—”
“Whoa,” Lucas barked in her ear. “Calm down, ’Manda. I’m sure Josh is fine. Take a deep breath and stop panickin’.”
She dropped into the nearby chair as tears threatened. Biting down hard on her lower lip, she fought them back and took a deep breath. “I’m worried, Lucas.”
“I know, babe. But there’s no reason to get worked up over it. I’ll go out an’ look for him. See if he’s over at the bar. You get a hold of yourself, and I’ll call you back in a little while.”
“Oh, be careful,” she cried in a forlorn voice.
“I will be. Sit tight. I’ll call you back as soon as I have anythin’ to report.”
The line clicked in her ear. It took several moments of listening to the busy-tone before she found the ability to set the receiver back in the cradle. Her hand shook as she tried, and she nearly dropped it. But on the second attempt, it rattled into place.
Josh was out there, somewhere, in all that ice. The streets were empty and dark. Who knew when someone might attempt to drive down them again? Likely not until well after dawn—it would take the small salt crew that long to do anything about the conditions of the residential streets.
Had he gone back to Kansas City? Was he on the highway somewhere now? Her stomach churned dangerously, threatening to spill her pizza onto her shoes. She bent over and sank her head into her hands with a soft cry.
This wasn’t happening. She hadn’t sent Josh out with bad weather looming. He hadn’t left. All of this was one giant nightmare that would vanish when she opened her eyes.
All I Want for Christmas is Big Blue Eyes Page 16