by L. B. Dunbar
“Will he stay with Anna?”
“I doubt it. Besides, the apartment over the garage where Mason has been staying technically belongs to Archer, Anna’s older brother.” I’d only heard Archer mentioned in bits and pieces but nothing concrete. He sounded like a mystery even to his family.
“Is he returning?”
Zack shrugs as his finger coasts from one shoulder to the other, along the line of my collarbone. “Don’t know. Autumn has an email address for him, and she passed on Ben’s message, but I don’t actually know if he got it or if he’s coming here.”
“Message?” I question.
“Ben left us . . . Logan, Mason, and Archer . . . a cryptic message for the anniversary of his death.”
Oh. Oh.
“We have a year to complete the mission.” His voice drops, and he sounds a bit like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible.
“And what is your mission?” My own voice rises, a bit excited by the possibility.
Zack slowly smiles without looking up at me. “It’s a secret.”
“Is it like a treasure map?” I continue, intrigued by the mystery and not able to let the secrecy part go just yet.
“Something like that.” His smile grows larger, and he’s just dazzling to behold.
We remain silent another second before Zack leans forward and scrapes his teeth over my bare shoulder. “Spend the day with us again.”
Tomorrow is my next day off. I should be encouraging him to spend time with Anna and her children. His friend needs him, but selfishly, I don’t want to miss any days, and my next shift will be two nights on, cutting back my time with the boys.
“Okay,” I whisper, and Zack looks up at me with those silvery eyes. My heart flutters, and my belly flips.
“As it’s already tomorrow then,” he moans, pressing up to his hand and climbing over my body to straddle my lap. “Let’s spend some quality time together now.”
With that, we head into round two for the night.
21
[Zack]
We decide to spend River’s day off away from Lakeside Cottage, allowing Anna to mend fences with her son and give all of them space. Mason doesn’t want to join my adventure with River and the boys although I’d invited him. After he disappeared last night, I didn’t want him to be alone.
“I met someone last night. I think I’ll give her a call.” It wasn’t like Mason to be so passive about a conquest, nor was it like him to suggest a phone call in less than twelve hours, but I didn’t argue with him.
As the boys were in a pirate phase, we decided on canoeing. Robbyn’s River Adventures was about forty-five minutes away, offering canoe trips and inner tube floats down a four-mile stretch of the river. Oliver opted to ride with River while Trevor went with me on our paddling excursion. At one point, we stopped and had lunch on a sandbar while the boys chased a dragonfly. I swear I couldn’t think of a better day which said a lot, as every other day so far with River and the twins had been amazing. She was amazing.
Her calm, sunny demeanor was just what my boys needed, and once again, I wished I could bottle her up. Or hire her as my nanny. The thought reminds me a new one starts on Monday. I’d run out of options in people who could handle my troublesome twins. We needed a Mary Poppins figure compared to all the Miss Trunchbulls we’d had.
As I watched River interact with the boys, I didn’t know how I’d leave her behind or pull my boys away from her. She’d been such an unexpected distraction on this trip, and she’d been so good for all of us. Deep inside, I knew I was making another huge mistake with my children by allowing them to get close to a woman I couldn’t have, but I’d grown just as close to her and didn’t want to think about giving her up until the very last second.
Ten-day fling, I’d teased her a little more than a week ago. My ten days were almost up, and I flicked my wrist to glance at my watch, which I wasn’t wearing. In some ways, it was nice not to rely on time, but on the other hand, I wondered where my watch went.
As we end our canoe trip, a man awaits us on the dock. He’s an older guy with a floppy sun hat on his head, looking a bit like Bill Murray as the groundskeeper in Caddyshack.
“How was the trip?” His rugged voice calls out as we approach.
“Great,” River responds as he leans off the dock and guides her canoe to a stop before helping Oliver out of the craft. River follows, and I watch as the helper tugs the metal boat up a divot in the sloped land next to a wooden staircase. With my hand cupped under the dock, I hold my canoe in place, and River helps Trevor exit our craft. I hop out next and drag the canoe up the designated path. Once I set it next to River’s I look up to find the man standing close behind me. So close I can see his eyes, and recognition hits me. I know this man.
Fuck.
“Have a good time?” His deep voice isn’t recognizable, nor is the expression on his face. A hundred emotions are written in his eyes, but I can’t read any of them. I don’t want to read them. Instead, I see red.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The anger in my voice cannot be hidden. Just what the fuck is happening here?
“Zack!” River snaps, somewhere beside me.
“Saw your name on the schedule. Had to see if it was really you.”
River steps closer and offers her hand. “Hi. I’m River.”
The man reaches out and takes her offering, but my body vibrates. Everything in me wants to smack his arm and yell don’t touch her. Her other hand lands on my forearm, attempting to calm me.
“Nice to meet you,” he says to her, but I don’t believe him. Nothing out of his mouth can be the truth. He turns for the boys next. “And who are you two?”
“We don’t talk to—”
“Oliver,” my son announces, patting his chest.
“Trevor,” he introduces himself.
River’s hand remains on my arm, but I can’t feel her touch. My skin burns. My throat dries. This cannot be happening.
“Enjoy your adventure?” this unfamiliar-familiar man questions, bending at the waist to address my sons.
“It was great,” Oliver says.
“Dad had trouble steering the ship,” Trevor admits, and I want to clamp my hand over my son’s mouth. I’m out of practice, I should defend. I can’t remember the last time I went canoeing. It might have been as far back as when I was a kid—when I went with my dad.
My eyes narrow on the man before us, standing too close to my boys.
“I remember canoeing with my sons when they were about your age,” the Bill Murray wannabe says, and I snap.
“You aren’t allowed those memories.”
“Zack,” River hisses beside me. She wants my attention, but my eyes remain firmly on the man standing upright to face me. A man who looks nothing like I remember, yet instantly, every memory returns to me.
“I’ll keep my memories, thank you. As it’s all I have.”
“Whose fault is that?” I mutter. Without waiting on a response, I reach for a bag near River’s feet and round him, barking my sons’ names before stalking off. Waiting for them near the car, River gets to me first.
“That was so rude,” she scolds, coming up to me. “Do you even know that man?”
“Nope.” I don’t have a clue who he is now.
“Then explain yourself,” she demands, cocking a hip as she places her fists on them. My little ray of sunshine is clouded over with disgust, and if I didn’t want her judging me about my dad, she’ll be judging me with what I say next.
“That man was my father.”
+ + +
For the remainder of the day, I’m out of sorts. A sheet is draped off the tree fort, and Pirates of the Caribbean is being projected in River’s backyard. She worried the movie was a little graphic for seven-year-olds, but I assured her it wasn’t. I didn’t even care about the movie after the earlier run-in with my father, and I wanted nothing more than to be alone. However, River would not disappoint my boys, and she filled her yard with the friends-c
ation crew as she called us.
Anna held Trevor at her side while River had Oliver in her lap, and I’ve clearly misjudged my boys’ reaction to the movie. I couldn’t be bothered, though.
“Dude, what is your deal?” Mason hissed near me as we sit further back from the group. I’m nursing a scotch.
“I saw my dad today,” I mutter, lifting the glass tumbler I commandeered from Anna’s bar when I took the bottle. I would replace it. I wasn’t a thief.
“Fuck. Where?” Mason understands issues with fathers as he wasn’t close with his despite working for him. It’s one reason he wanted Four Points to take off so badly. Logan’s dad passed when he was five, and Ben’s dad had been awesome, so it was only Mason and me who could commiserate on shit fathers.
“He was hanging out at some canoe rental place.” I sigh, leaning forward to balance my elbows on my thighs. “What was he doing there?”
“Does he work there?”
“I have no idea.” I hadn’t a clue where my father has been these past years. Noah had been in contact with our dad, but I didn’t understand how he could even speak to the man.
“You didn’t know he was in the area?” Mason adds.
“I had no clue.” When dear old dad came to see me in Detroit, I never followed up on where he went next, and although Noah had talked to our father, I didn’t ask questions I didn’t want answers to. I’d blocked most thoughts of my dad out of my mind. Back then with a new marriage and baby twins, I might have needed my father, but I didn’t want him. He had nothing to offer me as he’d canceled his marriage and walked out on his family.
“What are you going to do?” Mason prods.
“Pretend I didn’t see him,” I state, bringing the glass to my lips and emptying the liquid in it. Then I pour myself another half glass.
“Man, this is not the way to deal with that shit.” Mason nods at the tumbler in my hand, and I curse at him.
“Fuck you. What do you know about it?” Mason handles liquor better than the rest of us. Tequila is his twin, and I don’t know how he does it.
“I know enough that drowning in that stuff will not bring you answers.” Perhaps he’s right. The bottom of a liquor bottle isn’t going to offer wisdom. It sounds like something River’s grandfather might say if I’d ever met the man. “But it’s your bed, my friend. Until someone else is sleeping in it.”
Fuck Mason. What does he know?
I glance up at River, seated a few feet before me on a blanket spread on the grass. My son balances on her lap, his back to her chest, his head on her shoulder. I don’t need wisdom tonight. I need to get lost. I need her, and I don’t want to share her with my kids.
Only as the night wears on and the alcohol numbs me, I don’t get more than a good night kiss from my angel and a patronizing pat before she sends me home with Mason.
I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
22
[Zack]
The next morning, I’m still in a shit mood. As River works the afternoon shift, she sleeps in the morning to rest up, and I take a morning run, stopping at Autumn’s Crossroad Café with hopes coffee and a muffin will help. The place is quaint and small with a custom sandwich bar to the left of the entrance and the coffee and pastries counter to the right. Customers need to weave around a shelving unit in the middle that holds specialty items that complement their other food options.
As I stand in line, two older women wait behind me. I’m not one to eavesdrop, but their age causes them to speak loudly. Or maybe it’s just that they're nosy busybodies who love to gossip. They’re talking about some woman they consider a gold digger.
“I heard she inherited the house. Married someone nearly double her age, and then he leaves her that property worth almost three million dollars.”
My ears perk up for some reason, but I step forward as the line moves. Almost all the lakefront homes are two million or more in cost. The property alone is worth millions. A lake view from a cliff on Lake Michigan is virtually priceless.
“He had children older than her. Didn’t you say you saw her the other night with two little boys?” the first asks. “Didn’t take long for her to move on.”
My eyes catch Autumn’s as she crosses behind the counter. She shakes her head at how vocal these women are.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a man waiting in the wings. I know how these things go.” Lady Two speaks like she’s an expert in sabotaging men. “So sad what happened to the original couple in that house.”
“So sad,” the first friend echoes.
“That was years ago, though,” the second adds, reinforcing her agreement that whatever happened was very sad indeed.
“Prison,” the first whispers, all too loudly, and I stiffen. “Embezzlement.”
Everything within me fights the desire to turn around and blast these old biddies, telling them to shut up in this public place.
“If she thinks there’s buried treasure in that home, she’s wrong.”
Without turning around, I almost hear them silently agreeing with one another.
“Did you say those two little boys belong to one of the sons from the original owners?” the second comments, and my ears ring. There isn’t anyone else they could be referencing. “What was his name again?”
“Zack.” It takes me a moment to realize it’s not the women behind me speaking but Autumn calling out my name. When I look up, she tips her head for me to come to her. “Got your coffee ready.” I haven’t ordered yet.
“Don’t listen to those old bitches,” she whispers as I near her.
I shake my head, still a little stunned at what I heard and what it could mean.
“Yocal and Vocal are what we call those two. Always gossiping.” Autumn leans forward, handing me the to-go cup. With a shaky hand, I take the offered drink, but Autumn notices my tremor.
“You okay?” her voice lowers even more.
I nod, but I’m not. “Were they talking about River?”
“There’s no way River married . . .” Autumn slows her speech. “She mentioned her husband was older than her, but it can’t be her.”
Autumn doesn’t sound very convincing, and I stare back at her. River hardly mentions Quincy. I hadn’t even known his name until the other night. How could he have children older than River unless he was . . . and she was . . . and she inherited that house. Now, she’s moved on to me. The man with two little boys and the original son of the owner. There isn’t anything I have, though. The few remaining dollars my father had were State’s evidence and confiscated. There’s no buried treasure. He’d gambled away the money. We didn’t have a penny. Everything I have now is all mine, and I’m careful with it. The only frivolous thing I’ve ever purchased is . . . my watch.
+ + +
I cannot let this go. It cannot wait until River is awake or after she returns from work. I need to speak to her, and I need to speak to her now. Standing outside her door, I pound on the wood, rattling the old thing on its hinges. When River opens the barrier, she’s out of breath.
“What’s wrong?” She’s wearing one of those sheer linen night dresses she likes, and there’s nothing to the imagination behind the thin fabric. I’d chastise her for opening the door in such a state, but I’m too worked up about what I heard.
“Who was your late husband?”
“Excuse me,” she stammers, her mouth falling open before her arms cross over her ample chest and accentuate those breasts I’ve become overly familiar with lately.
“I asked you a question.”
“And I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“My tone,” I huff. “My tone? Who the fuck was your husband?”
“His name was Quincy. Why does that matter?”
Swiping a hand through my hair, I hate that we’re having this discussion on her front step. And standing here, I feel like we’re on the precipice of something big, something push-me-over-the-edge, falling-into-the-pits-of-hell big.
“For a man who h
ates confrontation, you’re rather confrontational this morning,” she states, lowering her voice.
“I just want you to be honest with me.” Why is she being evasive? What else is she hiding from me?
“Oh, like you were honest with me about this house.” Her crossed arms fall, handsfisting at her sides. I glare back at those icy blues which are opposite the typical warmth and wonder they hold when she looks at me. “And what about your dad?”
“What about him?” We hadn’t discussed him once we left the canoe excursion. Once we returned to the area, we had dinner at Anna’s, and then the movie happened. River and I hadn’t had a moment alone, and whose fault was that? She sent me home with a soft kiss and a pat on the back.
“And this,” I snap, waving at the front porch. “It’s only a damn house. We’re talking about your marriage.”
“Actually, we are not discussing my marriage. It’s none of your business.” Now it’s her tone that sets me off.
“It is my business when people think you’re sniffing up my ass for money.”
“Excuse me?” Her mouth falls open again, and her eyelids rapidly flutter. She can’t accentuate those words any stronger. We stare daggers at one another for thirty seconds before she says, “Get out.”
“We need to discuss this,” I demand, holding out a hand to stop her from slamming the door in my face.
“No, we don’t. We don’t discuss your marriage or your boys.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My forehead furrows as if seeing this argument already heading off course. When River doesn’t reply, I continue. “You think I’m a shit dad, don’t you? Just say it. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Nope. Your kids, remember? You’ll worry about them.” I’m not certain how this has turned around on me and my fatherhood ability, but I’m spiraling out of control, swirling as the pit-falling sensation consumes me.
“Just tell me the truth. Tell me where my watch is.” I have no idea where that came from, but it’s worth fifteen-hundred dollars. She could use the money for the fence removal or something in the house or anything if she’s the gold digger those women say she is. This land alone is worth three million dollars. I would know. I look into the property value all the time and cringe to think we lost such an investment. We lost it all because my father fucking stole from someone, and now River is stealing from me.