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“Oh, yeah, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do with my time than play bingo. Gramps said the entire town is atwitter with talk of the record-breaking jackpot.” His mocking pretty well summed up his feelings about Rankins. “And, gosh, there are hundreds of dollars in prizes.” He worked in one of his eye-snaps. “Does he not know how long it takes me to make hundreds of dollars back in Chicago? A matter of minutes. Bingo isn’t exactly my thing, Shay.”
Shay’s jaw fell open. “Jonah, sometimes people just do things because they’re fun, without giving a thought to much else. People enjoy spending time together for the sake of nothing more than that. You’ve been in town for about twenty minutes and you can’t at least go along and pretend to enjoy something—for your gramps’s sake? Did you know your gramps never even keeps his winnings? He always donates them back to whatever cause is being played for.”
“I...” He let out a frustrated groan. “That really did sound bad, didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did.”
“I’m just... I’m out of my league here, Shay.”
Out of his league?
“You grew up in this league, Jonah, remember? And you used to kind of like it. At the very least—you liked some of the people. And you know what? Many of those people still think highly of you and some of them consider you a friend, although why that is I don’t know because I’m almost positive you don’t deserve it. But right now there’s a whole table of them waiting to have breakfast with you, so before you head back there, you might want to rethink that condescending attitude. People will catch on, Jonah. And they won’t like it.”
She turned to leave.
“Shay, wait.” Now he did touch her, reaching out and grabbing her elbow, but she had no problem shrugging him off this time.
He pushed his fingers through his wavy black hair, making it look messy and frustrated, like she felt.
“Look, you’re right. I’m sorry. It’s not that I think I’m better, it’s just being here again—like this...it makes me feel off-balance.” He inhaled a deep breath and then exhaled a sigh. “Of course I’ll go. Gramps is excited about it.”
Shay watched him, waiting. It was a pretty good apology, but... “And...?” she drawled.
He grinned—a sheepish, boyish grin and she had to resist its sneaky attempt to sweeten her mood.
“And, I will have a good attitude. I will do my best to have fun at bingo with Gramps.”
She gave him a short, single nod of satisfaction. “Good. I’ll see you there.”
* * *
“THAT WAS A terrible cast.” Doc clucked his tongue, his lips twitching in amusement.
Caleb yanked on his fishing pole. “Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I’m reeling back in.”
Doc chuckled. “Okay, don’t get all riled up now. But you are a little off your game—you have to admit that. This is the third time you’ve casted and that last one only went about four feet. You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” Caleb snapped, “for the third time. I feel fine.”
“I’m not talking about your health. Is something else bothering you?”
“Something besides this piece-of-junk reel my best friend gave me for my birthday, you mean? No.”
“That’s operator error where that expensive, state-of-the-art reel is concerned and you know it.”
Caleb snorted.
Doc executed a perfect cast. “You’re positive? Nothing is bothering you?”
“That’s what I said.”
“That’s your official statement? You’re ready to sign it?”
Caleb moved to face him. “Doc, you been nipping at the schnapps already this morning? It’s not even close to noon yet, and that would be early even for you. If you’ve got something on your mind I wish you would spit it out. I feel like I’m sparring with a cagey client here—and I’m not working today, remember?”
“That reminds me—how did you get out of the house? Where did you tell Jonah you were going?”
“I told him I needed a nap, asked him to turn off the phone and not bother me before noon. Then I climbed out the window.”
Doc belted out a laugh as he slowly worked the lure toward the boat. “You climbed out the window?”
“Yep.” Caleb’s lips curled up with the threat of a smile.
“Till noon, huh? That’s not a nap, that’s a whole night’s sleep.”
“You know I’m not a napper, Doc. Why don’t you tell me how long they usually last?” Caleb bit his line in two and stowed the flasher along with the lure he’d been using in the tackle box.
Doc shrugged. “Mine are usually an hour or two at the most. But let’s get back on track here.”
“I didn’t know we were off of it.”
“So, you’re not feeling the slightest bit guilty?”
Caleb didn’t answer and Doc finally, blessedly, remained silent as he shifted things around in his tackle box.
All that could be heard was the soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat. An eagle sailed overhead and they both looked skyward to watch it. Caleb didn’t know a soul who could stop themselves from pausing to watch a bald eagle fly by. Then he tied a favorite lure to the end of his line.
Eventually he answered, his tone taking a serious turn. “It doesn’t matter. I’m committed. There’s no turning back now.”
“Well, I don’t like it, Caleb. I’m feeling guilty. It’s dishonest, and I’m not a dishonest person.”
“What have you done to feel guilty about?”
“Besides lying to Jonah about what we’re up to today?” Doc fiddled with his own reel for a few seconds and then, instead of casting again, he laid the pole across his thighs. He leaned his head back and stared up at the clouds.
Caleb followed his gaze and marveled at the luscious blue of the sky. Alaska in the summertime, he thought, as he let the sheer beauty of it soak into him—there was nothing like it in the entire world. He used to take weeks off every summer so he and Jonah could enjoy as much of it as possible.
Jonah used to love summers here—fishing, hiking, biking, exploring...surely, being in Rankins now would make him realize how much. And hopefully before this thing was through his grandson would realize some other things, as well.
“Shay,” Doc muttered. “That’s the thing. That’s what I feel bad about. I understand what you’re trying to accomplish as far as Jonah is concerned, but I feel guilty about deceiving Shay. I didn’t think that through when I agreed to this. At the risk of waxing poetic—that woman is a shining example of all that is right with this town. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this. And I don’t like being a part of causing her any more pain.”
“Yep, she is a shining example. And, yes,” Caleb confessed, “I’ll admit that has been poking at me a bit, too. But I’m not doing it on purpose, Doc. That girl is like my own granddaughter. I promised Gus if anything ever happened to him that I would watch out for her.” Emotion clogged Caleb’s chest.
It took a minute before he could speak, and when he did he let pride fill his voice. “Gus would be so proud of her, Doc. With what she’s done with the inn—it looks like something from a darn magazine now.”
Gus had loved all of his grandchildren, but Shay had been a little extra special to him. Her love for the inn was one reason certainly, but Caleb always thought it was her personality that so closely mimicked Gus’s that had truly stolen his heart—kind, thoughtful, generous to a fault, but feisty, stubborn and strong-willed at the same time. It had stolen Caleb’s heart—and Jonah’s, too, once upon a time.
Doc smiled wholeheartedly. “Every time I go there I think that same thing. I imagine that ole Gus is smiling down on her every single day. But that’s what I’m saying, Caleb. The devotion Shay has for her family...well, she showers it on you, too. And you’re sure lucky to have it. But now, well you know she’s got to be worried plum out of her mind.”
“Come on, Doc, you think you can make me feel any worse than I already do? I know all of that—everything that you said. I do. But I can’t very well admit all the facts to Jonah, can I? He would never forgive me. He would hightail it back to Chicago faster than this lure can spin.” Caleb held his fishing pole aloft and gestured at the shimmering metal on the end of his line. “And then where would I be?”
Doc nodded his head, puzzling over the situation. “I guess that’s true enough. I only wish there was some way you could do all this and let Shay know.”
Caleb let out a sigh. “Yeah, I wish that, too. But I just have to believe—I do believe, Doc, that what I’m doing is for her. In fact, if I’m being perfectly honest, it’s almost as much for Shay as it is for Jonah. And the truth is I’m not going to live forever. That is a fact, and even as painful as it may be, it’s one my grandson needs to accept—and I’d prefer it to happen sooner rather than later. You know what I mean?”
He cast again and this time his aim was spot on.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_8a680c00-059b-5e1f-af45-d54cf73cfae1)
“B-2,” SHAY CALLED OUT.
“Bwahh-eeek,” the ancient microphone squealed back at her. Probably still upset, Jonah surmised, after being left behind by Elvis on his last tour.
Jonah caught Shay’s gaze and winced with exaggeration. She narrowed her eyes at him and then shouted the sequence again sans microphone.
He chuckled and stamped the appropriate space on his card.
You have got to be kidding me, he thought. No one back in Chicago could conceive of this if they saw him now. His firm billed seven-hundred dollars an hour for his time, and here he was sipping blue-raspberry punch and playing blue-light bingo at the VFW Hall, which also housed other activities for the Rankins Seniors’ Circle. According to Shay, people did this so they could “have fun” and “spend time together.”
He’d promised himself, and Shay, that he would be on his best behavior, but she couldn’t stop him from thinking about his life in Chicago. Couldn’t stop him from thinking about his car—his beloved ’69 Boss 429—garaged and waiting for him... In spite of wishing otherwise, it was going to be a while before he was driving his favorite car again. He stamped another place on his card and continued his cynical meandering—why on earth would he want to solve complicated legal cases and, stamp, drive a near-perfect car when he could play bingo?
“I-20,” Shay called out. Stamp...stamp. He reached across the table with his dauber and marked Gramps’s card. Shay had informed him earlier when she was helping him get set up that his ink-stamper-thing was called a dauber. He’d opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort and then shut it firmly when he’d caught her warning look.
Although—he glanced up toward the front of the room again—watching Shay do her thing did make the experience a bit more palatable. He had a difficult time not watching her—a problem he’d been plagued with since about the sixth grade.
He grinned at her again and held up his card, pointing with exaggerated excitement at his almost-bingo. She glared.
Jonah reached across the table and stamped Gramps’s card as he was too busy flirting with Mary Beth to pay attention to much else. He noticed the B-4 spot still blank on Mary Beth’s card—that sequence had been called a while ago. And so had N-32... Apparently Gramps’s moves were working, he thought with amusement, continuing to eye Mary Beth’s incomplete card.
He couldn’t stand it. Stamp, stamp and...stamp. There, all caught up.
“What did she say?” Bernice Threck whisper-shouted the words across Jonah toward Erma Neville.
“N-42,” Erma yelled back. “Bernice, why didn’t you wear your hearing aids?”
“Because I’m trying to get Teddy to notice me and how attractive do you think I would be with those things hanging out of my ears?” Bernice looked to Jonah for confirmation. “Right, Jonah?”
Jonah presumed that by “Teddy” Bernice was referring to Doc, who was seated on the other side of her and at least appeared to be keeping up with his card.
Jonah realized that both women were waiting for his response. He opened his mouth to say he knew not what; thankfully he was interrupted by Erma.
“A sight more attractive than those fishing lures you’ve got hanging from your ears right now,” Erma muttered.
Jonah took a drink of his blue-raspberry punch, relieved not to be drawn into the exchange after all.
“What?” Bernice shouted.
“I love to fish,” Doc chimed in loudly. No hearing devices from that quarter either, Jonah hypothesized.
Erma hollered again, “A lot more attractive than having to shout, I’d say.”
Bernice shook her head with disgust. Her long, dangly earrings made such a loud tinkling sound that Jonah had no idea how she could hear anything but that, hearing aids or no.
She yelled into Jonah’s ear again, “Well, that’s ridiculous, Erma. There’s not a lot that isn’t more attractive than having gout.”
“B-6,” Shay called loud and clear. Jonah looked up and caught her watching him. Her lips were tugging upwards in that way they did when she was fighting a laugh. So, she thought his predicament was funny, huh? He responded with a look of desperation. She turned and coughed into her hand and Jonah thought it a fairly believable attempt at covering a laugh.
He chuckled. Okay, so yes, he had to admit that he was kind of having fun. He glanced over to where Gramps was now officially canoodling with Mary Beth and decided that sight alone would make a little suffering worthwhile.
“B-6,” Shay repeated, but not quite as forcefully. Jonah wanted to believe it had something to do with his nonverbal teasing.
“Beef stick?” Bernice yelled. “Are they selling beef, too? I love those things—especially the caribou ones. Don’t you, Teddy?” She batted her fake lashes like a 1940s film star. “Erma, will you run and get one for me and Teddy to share?”
“Beef stick,” Erma muttered with a huff. Then she shouted at Bernice, “She said B-6 not beef stick, Bernice. And no, I will not.”
Then she glanced at Jonah. “That’s it—I’m outta here. This is embarrassing and I’m not talking to her anymore, unless she goes and gets her hearing aids. She’s out of control. And you can tell her I said so.”
Someone yelled “bingo” from a table behind them as Erma testily gathered up her cards and moved to a neighboring table. Bernice didn’t notice, her entire body tuned in to Teddy at this point.
Jonah thought this whole spectacle was a little out of control. It was bad enough that Shay had guilted him into being here, but she could have warned him that it doubled as some kind of geriatric singles event.
“I-17,” Shay began calling a new game. Someone must have fixed the vintage mic because the sound was much better—and even louder.
The crowded room seemed to hum with a current of excitement. Apparently, there was nothing like a rousing game of “blue light bingo” to raise community spirits. Jonah had no idea what the “blue light” signified, but he was now playing four cards because Bernice had pretty much ditched hers too, to listen to Doc recite a list of fun facts about gout that was way more information, in Jonah’s opinion, than anyone not currently suffering from the disease needed to know.
“Excuse me, sir, but you’re clearly in violation of the house rules.”
Jonah looked up to see Shay’s sister, Hannah, toss a stack of cards on the table.
“What?”
She settled next to Jonah. “I believe there’s a three-card limit. And the way you’re stamping away over here—I may have to report you to the bingo police.”
Jonah smiled. “That might be a blessing at this point.” Jonah inked up his dauber then held his ink-stained hands aloft.
Hannah laughed and began stamping her card in an attempt to catch up with the current game.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Jonah asked.
“Uh, playing bingo,” Hannah drawled, pointing out the obvious. “Is the smell of all that ink getting to you there, counselor?”
“No. I mean why?”
Hannah raised her brows in a way that spoke clearly of her disapproval—and reminded him of Shay.
“Because it’s a great cause and because I can—I’d never played bingo in my entire life until a few months ago. Can you imagine that? I’ve been missing out and besides, did you not hear that the blue-diamond pot tonight is one-hundred and twelve dollars?”
“Why is everything blue?” Jonah asked waving one hand across the tablescape and holding up his cup of blue raspberry punch with the other. The plastic table cloths were blue, the centerpieces on the table held little vases of blue carnations and baby’s breath, and strings of blue lights were twinkling here and there around the room. Even the ink was blue.
