The Coast Road Home (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 13)

by Vickie McKeehan

Barkley thought it was great fun to be chased through the kitchen. He darted around furniture, skidding on a rug in the dining room, knocking over a chair.

  They finally wrangled him to a stop near the front door. Holding onto his leash, it took both of their might to drag Barkley into the laundry room. The dog did not want to go.

  Out of breath, they both collapsed outside the door.

  “That’s some dog you have there.”

  “Tell me about it. I want that champagne. And some dinner. And I want to celebrate. I wonder if Barkley did this to poor Hollis. Hollis never mentioned a thing when I picked him up.”

  “Hollis had Barkley all day? The man’s a saint.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Help me up.”

  “I was hoping you’d help me up.”

  Marley got to her feet and reached out a hand.

  He stood up and snatched her around the waist. “I know another way we could celebrate.”

  She cracked a grin. “I don’t mind cold food.”

  Snuggling against her neck, he ran a thumb across her nipple. “Cold champagne is good for washing down cold pheasant.”

  She brought his head down to her level. “I’ve heard that. Right now, I’m not thinking about pheasant.”

  She started unbuckling his belt.

  They couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

  Later, after feasting on each other, they spread out in the sunroom like a picnic and stuffed themselves with Perry’s smoked pheasant, not minding that everything about the meal was stone cold. The champagne took care of some of the tasteless side dishes. But they ate without complaint.

  “When’s your aunt getting here?”

  “Thursday. And Caleb promised to have the backyard perfect by then. He has three days to make it happen. You heard him, right?”

  “I did. How long will she be in town?”

  “Through the weekend. She says she has something big to tell me. I’m hoping the news is that she’s moving out here.”

  “Hmm. What’s the plan then? We put the squeeze on Lolly—should I even call her Lolly?—to move here or what? Maybe I should call her Mrs. Acoma.”

  “What’s wrong with calling her Lorelei? She’d like that. I’m hoping she’ll want to finally get out of Chicago. Don’t get me wrong. Chicago is a great city. She’s settled there. But the winters are brutal. Look, who I’m talking to. You know. Wisconsin has identical weather.”

  “I guarantee I won’t miss shoveling snow twice a day.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do you think she wants to move to a small town like this? Maybe she’d miss all the big city has to offer. And why is she only staying four days?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. I worry about her slipping on the ice when she’s out and about trying to shop when it’s nine degrees and the parking lot is frozen over because no one has gotten there to clear it off.”

  Marley saw her opening. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

  “Don’t be, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up. But after yesterday with Ellie and Faye, I thought I could see your juices flowing again. You looked so…happy about helping them out.”

  “Are you disappointed? Is it because you’d feel embarrassed being with a dog walker or a dog sitter?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. That has nothing to do with anything. I wouldn’t care if you helped Hollis pick up the garbage.”

  Marley wasn’t sure about that statement.

  “What’s eating you anyway? You’re dragging around something other than survivor’s guilt.”

  “Aren’t you the perceptive one?” Still sitting on the floor, she leaned back against the settee. “Look, you don’t entirely get it, Gideon.”

  “Then, by all means, enlighten me. What is it I don’t get?”

  “I sold the farm. Okay? Their farm. Five hundred acres that had been in my family for five generations. The day it happened that farmhouse became unlivable for me. Technically, it was the day I came home from the hospital. That’s where I went…back to the farm. The day the doctor let me go, I went back to the farm where it had all happened. Why wouldn’t I? It’s where I grew up. Safe harbor, right? But I couldn’t even stand in the entryway for longer than two minutes before panic set in. I timed it. I couldn’t be in the same spot where Dealey had done the most damage. He shot three people in that part of the house. I mean, friends had come in while I was in the hospital and cleaned it up, repainted, but…it didn’t matter. None of that mattered. That first time right out of the hospital, I tried to stay, I did, but I couldn’t. I had to get out of there. So, you know what I did? I ran all the way to the end of the road and called friends to come pick me up and take me back to my house. You know what happened when I walked into my place? It felt empty. Sad. Panic. No kids around anywhere. But their toys were still there. Their smell was still there. For three long years, I rotted away in that awful house by myself, alone with regret and guilt.”

  He looped his fingers with hers. “You did what you had to do.”

  “Did I? If I’d been stronger. Maybe I could’ve made it work somehow. Kept the farm going. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t strong, Gideon. What was I supposed to do? Keep the farm when I couldn’t even open the front door and take a step inside without being reminded of the bloodbath that went on there? When I couldn’t even go into the barn to check on the livestock? My therapist, Genie Hughes, a woman I’d known since I first decided to make it a career, went back there with me, several times. She did her best working with me over and over again, trying all kinds of methods to overcome my fear. Was it fear? I don’t…I don’t know for sure. But it was something big locked inside me that I couldn’t get rid of. All those things Genie tried, even hypnosis, failed. Nothing worked. Everything about therapy that I had believed in up to that point simply did not work for me. Why should I give other people hope that they can get better? That I might be able to cure whatever phobia they have or whatever issue they’re dealing with? Don’t you see, Gideon? I can’t keep up the ruse that therapy helps…anyone.”

  “So, let me get this straight. Take away what you did for Bette. And Faye. And Ellie. Is that it? Is that the answer? Deny that you helped them?”

  “Those three have nothing to do with what happened to my kids, my parents, my brother. I might possibly be able to treat the minor stuff, maybe steer them in the right direction like I did Faye and Andy, but that’s about all I could do. Besides, those three don’t need long-term therapy. They’ll be just fine. Faye’s a teenager. What she’s going through is normal peer pressure. Bette is feeling betrayed by a cheating spouse. Ellie is an abuse victim, manipulated by a sociopath. Those are little league problems, stuff I learned how to diagnose as a grad student. See my point?”

  “I bet if you asked Bette, Faye, and Ellie, they wouldn’t consider their problems ‘little league’ stuff.”

  “That’s not fair.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “You’re not listening to me. Even if I did set up shop here, what if someone walked through my door with a string of psychological problems so huge that I couldn’t do anything about it?”

  “You mean like Phillip Dealey?”

  “Exactly. I shouldn’t be judging anyone’s mental health because I missed all of Dealey’s signs, missed that he had that kind of violence inside him. I didn’t see that he was on the brink of murder, let alone killing my own family. And that mistake cost me everything.”

  “You know as well as I do that probing one’s mental state isn’t an exact science. In therapy, the patient only lets you see what he or she wants you to see, only discusses what is of interest to them. If a true psychopath or sociopath sits down in front of you and that person can fool a polygraph machine, then why would you think you could pick up on the signals? You’re human, Marley. Last I checked, you’re not a mind reader. You don’t always know what’s lurking behind someone’s eyes.”

  “Okay, have you ever misdiagnosed anyone, Mr. Bigshot?”

&n
bsp; He squeezed her fingers. “Unfortunately, I have. I, too, am only human. But unlike a mental health provider, I have an MRI or a brain scan to read or a hundred other different tests that I can fall back on to correct a diagnosis. You have your observations. Huge difference.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard all this before. Do you think my friends didn’t try to stop me from giving it up? Oh, they did. They kept telling me to give it time. I gave it three years. A thousand, one hundred and twenty-two days to be exact. And nothing changed. I had to leave, get out of there. I couldn’t go on living in that same house without my kids, seeing all their friends walk past in the mornings headed to school. I couldn’t do it. Call me weak, call me whatever you want, but I had to leave and start over.”

  “If you hadn’t, we’d never met. And I wouldn’t be sitting in front of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Marley, you’re nothing like anyone I’ve ever met. You’re like this homespun girl from another planet. You take lunch to a guy who’s laid up after falling off his garbage truck. You go out of your way to talk to a stranger about how your husband cheated on you because somehow you think it might help her knowing that she’s not alone. You don’t seek out sympathy for the tragedy you faced. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “I can’t wait to meet the woman who raised you. Lolly did a helluva job. You’re almost too good to be true. You’re nothing like Ewan. Nothing.” She thought of Keva’s observation, thought it better to clear the air. “Does it bother you that we live in separate houses?”

  “No. Does it bother you?”

  “Nope. And it wouldn’t bother you if I decided to help Hollis collect the garbage?”

  He doubled over with laughter. “No. But somehow I don’t see you doing that.”

  “You never know.”

  Barkley started pawing at the laundry room door.

  “I need to take him for a walk.”

  “We’ll both go, tire him out. If you’re serious about having that party Saturday night, we’ll need to start planning. What are you thinking?”

  “I think Keva was right after all. Having you in my life, I’m one lucky lady.”

  Twenty-Three

  Gideon angled his face under his own shower stream and wondered if the hospital could do without him for a week. He’d like to take Marley on a nice vacation, a getaway, somewhere they could have breakfast in bed, order room service, and have no emergency calls interrupting them. Marley was understanding about it. She never complained whether the phone dinged during foreplay or the middle of the night. She seemed to know this was part of who he was and that it was never going to change.

  But right now, he had to hustle if he planned to pick up Lolly from the Santa Cruz airport. Marley had offered to do it for him, but he’d wanted a chance to tell Lolly all about Marley.

  Maybe not hit her with it all at once. Maybe drag it out throughout her visit. He’d find a way. He always had.

  The ideas came easier, the closer he got to the airport. Lolly’s plane was late, so he had to circle the arrival lanes three times before she texted him that she’d finally landed.

  He spotted her standing outside baggage claim and swung to the curb.

  Lorelei Acoma stood five-seven, with a crop of raven hair turning slightly gray cut in a spiky, short hairdo. She wore gold hoop earrings at her ears, a pair of cropped jeans and a bright pink top, and comfy sandals on her feet. Her nail polish—fingernails and toes—were perfectly manicured. The color matched her pink top. At sixty-four, she looked radiant and healthy, almost glowing.

  Gideon noticed a man standing next to Lolly that he did not recognize. The man wore glasses on his wrinkly nose, a pair of khakis and a white shirt with suspenders to hold up his pants, and a ridiculous-looking pink bowtie.

  He opened the door to the Enclave, skirted the hood, and spread his arms out wide, scooped Lolly up in a hug. “California welcomes you.”

  “That’s what the pilot said. I’d think my surgeon son could be a little more original than that.”

  “I’ll work on it,” Gideon returned, frowning over at the man who still hadn’t moved on. “Can I help you with something?”

  The man pointed to Lolly and said, “I’m with her. And you must be the son I’ve heard so much about. It’s been Gideon this, Gideon that, for as long as I’ve known her.”

  Confused, Gideon picked up Lolly’s bags. “I beg your pardon?”

  Lorelei quickly looped her arm through the man’s. “Gideon, you remember Angus. Angus Allen, who lives across the street from me. He’s lived in my neighborhood as long as I’ve been there. You used to trick or treat at his house.”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes at the older man. A faint memory kicked in. “I remember now. You used to hand out those lame, cheap toothbrushes instead of candy.”

  “Every good dentist does,” Angus retorted.

  His reply brought a sour look from Gideon. He glared at Angus, who now had to be at least seventy with a mop of silver hair and blue eyes, slightly bloodshot at the moment. He sized the man up as a heavy drinker. “Didn’t you once come home drunk and take out half the mailboxes on the block before passing out in your front yard?”

  “Gideon! You know perfectly well that was Richard Stoudemire. Angus is the one who lost his wife last summer.”

  “Sorry for your loss,” Gideon muttered. “How come you didn’t say anything about bringing him with you?”

  “It was a last-minute deal,” Angus explained, offering his hand to Gideon. “We thought we’d come see Lorelei’s boy first and then afterward take off on a cruise to Alaska. We wanted to be spontaneous.”

  “Spontaneous,” Gideon mumbled as he grabbed the man’s bags and lugged them to the back of the SUV before shutting the door, harder than it needed to be shut. “So that’s why you’re only staying four days. I wondered about that. And Angus is the big news you wanted to tell me.”

  Lorelei looked nervous as she climbed in the front passenger seat, which forced Angus to the back. “Don’t be mad. It was a spur of the moment thing. Angus surprised me with the tickets. What could I say? I’ve always wanted to see Alaska.”

  Gideon settled behind the wheel again and cranked the engine. “You never once mentioned to me you wanted to see Alaska.”

  “Well, I did. And now Angus and I can go together.”

  “How long have the two of you…?” Gideon couldn’t bring himself to finish the question. Instead, he segued into something more benign. “How was the flight?”

  Angus cleared his throat. “Long. But we had a very nice stewardess who kept us in booze the whole way.”

  “I bet,” Gideon said under his breath as he pulled into traffic.

  Lorelei stared out the window. “I see why you like this place. It’s beautiful here.”

  A cold wave of emotions washed over him, draining all the joy out of the visit. This interloper was intruding on his time with Lolly. “I’d intended to give you the tour, take the scenic route home. Because it gets even better out on the Coast Road.”

  “We’d like to see that,” Lorelei prompted. “Hard to believe you live right across from the ocean in that house of yours. Can’t wait to see that. I bet the pictures you sent don’t do it justice.”

  So much for the heart to heart about Marley, Gideon fumed, his enthusiasm settling into a ball of resentment in his gut. “I’ll drop you guys off at the house before I head to the hospital.”

  “No need,” Angus countered cheerily. “We made reservations at this cute little B&B called Promise Cove. You can just take us there.”

  Gideon huffed out a breath. “Okay. But you could’ve stayed at my house.”

  “We know that, dear. But we didn’t want to interfere with your everyday routine. And by now, I’d hoped that you’d…” Lorelei lowered her voice, “…found yourself a woman. You’re thirty-eight, Gideon. You’re not getting any younger.”

  “I know how old I am,” Gideon snappe
d. “And I have met someone.”

  “Gracious, tell us all about her. Why’d you keep that to yourself?” Lorelei said, twisting in her seat to face her son. Grateful that the conversation had morphed off her personal life and into Gideon’s, she beamed at him. “Start from the beginning. I want to know everything about her. Angus and I are all ears.”

  Marley’s doorbell rang at ten-thirty. Barkley bolted for the door and stood up on his hind legs in front of it. “Get down. Now!”

  She finally got a look through the peephole and saw Bette Magnuson. She opened the door and listened as Bette blasted her right off.

  “Why didn’t you tell me what happened to your kids? Your family? What I’m going through is nothing compared to that. It feels like a pebble in my shoe compared to what you’ve gone through.”

  Marley winced. “Come on in. I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Oh, honey, you don’t have to say a thing. I just wanted you to know if there’s anything I can ever do for you all you need do is ask.”

  “I appreciate that. I’m glad to see you’re out of that fetal position.”

  It was Bette’s turn to wince. “I bet the tongues around here have been wagging about me.”

  “Oh, come on, are you kidding? You think they’d ignore the new woman in town who ran her car off the road? Gimme a break. Half the town thinks I was blind drunk. The other half thinks I was stoned on pills.”

  Bette hooted out a laugh. “Okay, I’ll let you take the spotlight instead of me. But I reserve the right to balk when you get more press.”

  “How about a cup of coffee? I just made fresh. And there’s a cinnamon roll with your name on it.”

  “Oh, hell, you convinced me. Who cares that I put on ten pounds during this ordeal, right? Don’t ask me how it happened, either. I couldn’t even hold down food for the first month. Then when the rat bastard came back to get his stuff, I was still throwing up anything I stuffed in my mouth.”

  Marley sliced off a chunk of the cinnamon roll, slid it onto a plate. “Sounds like stress to me. People don’t realize that stress does weird things to the body, makes the cortisol levels hit the ceiling. You’re lucky you didn’t get high blood pressure.”