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“You could team up and commit one together,” Abby joked. “Talk about a bonding experience.”
“Not funny.” Holly grabbed a lid for the cup. Fear hovered like a dark cloud overhead. She couldn’t help but think she was screwing up her kid. How could she not, given the less-than-stellar example of absentee motherhood she’d been blessed with? All the more reason she’d do everything she could for Simon. She’d hold together what was left of her family no matter what and she’d never, ever leave him behind. If that meant having to watch him 24/7, so be it. Anyway, she should have known by now not to lose focus. Keeping her eye on the ball was the only way to make sure things ran smoothly. Look away...and disaster struck. “To you, Simon’s your perfect can-do-no-wrong godson. To me, he’s bail waiting to happen.”
“Speaking of bail...” Abby practically hummed. “Hello, Luke Saxon.” She spun around on her stool as Gil and Luke approached the register.
“Abigail Manning. You haven’t changed one bit.”
Holly’s resentment banked at the friendliness in Luke’s tone. Of course he remembered Abby. Everyone remembered Abby. Now that Holly stepped away from the past, she was able to see those smooth edges her best friend mentioned. While she could still see the angry, abused teenage Luke lurking behind those blue eyes, the man standing in front of her seemed weathered and in control of what had weighed him down for so long. Both the easy smile he gave Abby and the guarded but polite glance he aimed in Holly’s direction had her regretting the vehemence of her earlier anger.
“So when do we start calling you Sheriff Saxon?” Abby asked as Gil slid an apologetic look in Holly’s direction, then added the hint of a smile to calm the waters.
“I start next week,” Luke said with a pointed look at Holly. “And even then it’s temporary. I’ll be serving the remainder of Jake’s appointed term.”
“Well, in any case,” Abby said, “welcome home.”
“I appreciate that.” Luke deposited his change in the tip jar on the counter.
“Thanks,” Holly said, finishing up with Gil’s bill. As the two men turned to leave, she picked up the shake and the bag and followed them. “Here.” She held out the paper sack and foam cup to Luke. “Chili-cheese fries, chocolate mocha shake. For later.”
Luke blinked.
“Your usual. From back in the day.” Not at all what she’d planned to say, but at the last second, she shifted her tactics and stopped herself from letting the accusations fly full force. “Just because my father was willing to forgive you doesn’t mean I’m going to. But Grandma wouldn’t have sent you off without dinner on your first night back. So, well, there you go.” When she turned to the counter she avoided Abby’s know-it-all grin by focusing on Simon. Except his stool was empty. Her stomach dropped. “Crap. Where’s that kid gotten to now?”
* * *
“MAYBE I SHOULD have listed Holly under the hazard-pay clause of your contract.” The lines around Gil’s eyes appeared as he squinted against the early-afternoon sun. “She was borderline rude.”
“Rude would have been dumping this in my lap,” Luke said, uncertain how he should feel about the gesture. “Holly’s defending her father, Gil.” Luke stopped beside the dinged-up red pickup he’d bought from a police impound-lot auction last year. “I’m not going to fault her for it.” All these years, he couldn’t comprehend defending his own.
The bag Holly had pushed on him continued to steam as his other hand froze around the milk shake he had yet to let go of.
How much teenage time had he spent in the diner gorging on chili-cheese fries and downing mocha shakes to avoid going home because doing so usually meant his father would be passed out by the time he walked through the door? Those last couple of years before he’d left he’d done just about anything he could think of to avoid his father and the rage. At least in Sheriff Gordon’s holding cell he’d been safe.
His mouth quirked. Holly never would have supplied him with dinner if she knew doing so reminded him of one of the few good memories from his childhood. “Bonus for me. I don’t have to worry about cooking tonight.”
“Must take a lot to tick you off.” Gil gave him a quick salute. “Good thing, given your new job. Oh, hey, I had Emery do some upkeep for your folks’ house. Nothing major. Mowed the lawn, sheared the shrubs, boarded up a few windowpanes to keep the chill out. The place isn’t in great shape—”
“Thanks, Gil.” Luke’s stomach gripped his still-digesting lunch. And here he thought facing Holly or her father would be the hardest part of his return. Going back to the house he’d sworn never to step foot in again... “I’ll catch up with you next week to talk about the department budget.” By then he should have his bearings.
Luke opened the door and leaned in to stow the fries and shake in the cab, and when he stood, he found the boy from the diner right behind him, accusing eyes scrunched, arms crossed over the emblem of his Proton Patrol T-shirt.
Even if Luke hadn’t known the boy’s father growing up, there was no mistaking Grayson Campbell’s son. Gray and Holly had been tied at the hip from the time she was sixteen. She, the knockout golden child of the town sheriff, and Gray, the drama-club president and star pitcher of the baseball team. As far as Luke was concerned, he couldn’t relate.
“You’re the man taking my grandpa’s job.” The accusation cut Luke to the quick, but he had to give the kid credit for confronting him. Few adults would have the nerve to do the same.
“I suppose I am.” Luke braced his arm on the door, giving the boy a chance to purge his grievance.
“But it’s his job. Not yours.”
Luke resisted the urge to squirm. “Does your mom know you’re out here...?”
“Simon.” Simon’s chin went up, his fists tightened. “Simon Grayson Campbell. And you’re Luke Saxon. I’ve heard about you.”
“I’m sure you have.” Luke could only imagine what the little man had heard. “I went to school with your parents. Did you know that?”
“Maybe.” Simon’s eyes reflected surprise and suspicion before grief flashed like a struck match. “My dad died.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Were you friends?” Even with the hostile stare, Luke saw hope searching for a way out.
“Everyone liked your dad.” Because Gray had treated everyone equally. Even the son of the town drunk. But no, they hadn’t been friends. Luke hadn’t had friends. “He was a good guy.”
Some of Simon’s suspicion faded. “I don’t like my grandpa to be unhappy. Mom says losing his job’s made him unhappy.”
“I’m sorry for that.” But he’d given his word to Jake and Gil. The diner door banged open. “I think your mom is looking for you.”
“Simon!” Holly blasted out the door, making her son jump and Luke wince. He knew what it was like to be on the other side of that tone, but at least he didn’t have to worry about this boy’s safety. “Come inside right now.”
“But he knew Dad.” Simon looked at his mom and then did as he was told.
“Hurry. Inside, now.” She pushed him in the door before she faced Luke. “It’d be best if you stayed away from him. From all of us.”
Chills of irritation pricked his spine as his jaw tightened. Did she think he was going to get in his car and run the kid down? “He followed me, Holly.”
“That might be, but next time—”
“Keep a better eye on your son and there won’t be a next time.” When she flinched, he let out a breath and counted to ten. Anger wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere—and he’d rather die than venture into the dark place anger would take him. “I apologize. That was uncalled-for. I was sorry to hear about Gray.”
“Thank you.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and seemed to debate what to say next. She crossed her arms over her chest. When she spoke, he heard the resignation in her tight voice. “You’re really staying?”
“I really am. Better get used to it. Otherwise it’s going to be a very long year for all of us.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_66d86ffc-5e84-5959-b67c-e102f3bb1258)
THE SHARP RAP on her back patio door Sunday morning sent flour flying as Holly noted the time on the kitchen clock. Nearly ten already? Where had the time gone? She’d better get a move on. She had to be at the diner by noon to take over for Ursula.
“It’s open, Dad.” The piecrust dough on the kitchen counter screamed for attention, which Holly gladly provided courtesy of her grandmother’s ancient rolling pin.
“Rough week?” Jake Gordon gave a cautionary glance around her yellow-and-blue country-chic kitchen that looked as if a bakery had exploded. Vanilla and hot sugar permeated the air in her storybook cottage house.
Being unable to sleep last night had had her up and working by four this morning. The restlessness seemed to be happening frequently, the more she thought about growing up in Butterfly Harbor and how everything was changing. Now five pies into her baking for the week meant a blackberry, a blueberry lemon and an apple crumb were cooling on the side counter, and two chocolate-mint creams were stashed in the fridge. She’d be lucky if the lemon meringue she was working on now made it past midnight, given her penchant for late-night stress snacking.
“The week was fine.” She pounded the pin against the handmade dough, bringing layers of butter and flour to the surface as Jake strode to the refrigerator. “Yesterday was a bit of a kicker.”
The hand-carved cane aiding her father’s uneven gait struck Holly as ironic, given the man responsible for Jake’s limp had waltzed his way into her diner a little over twenty-four hours ago.
Holly rolled the crust out from the center to the uneven edges of pastry, trying not to give in to the worry bearing down on her. How could he be taking his forced retirement so easily? Even his khaki uniform—the uniform he wore seven days a week because he was always on call—looked as if it was ready to slump into retirement more readily than her father. Thinking of the not-so-far-off day when he’d no longer be wearing his uniform hurt her heart.
“So Luke Saxon’s the new sheriff,” she said when her dad didn’t inquire further.
Had Holly not been watching, she might have missed her father’s split-second hesitation before he twisted off the lid of the orange-juice container and poured a glass. He recovered in true Jake Gordon style, with a shrug of his shoulders and a quirk of his lips, but Holly could see a trace of regret in her father’s assessing gaze.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you gnawing on something you couldn’t change. We both know you can worry something into the ground if you’re given enough notice. Add Luke Saxon to the equation, and I just didn’t have the energy.”
“You’re right.” Holly rolled the dough over the pin and transferred the unbaked crust into a pie tin before downing the last of her coffee. “Having him walk into the diner without any warning made it so much easier.”
Jake hid his wince behind a long drink of juice. “I didn’t think he was due in town yet. Luke always was a fan of the unexpected. Guess some things haven’t changed after all.”
“Huh.” Except Luke was older and more mature, both in stature and in attitude. And while there had been an aloofness about him, there was also a simmering something keeping him front and center in her thoughts. Resignation nibbled at the edge of Holly’s distrust. He said he’d changed, but people didn’t. Not when they said they would; not when she hoped they would. Not even when they promised to, time and time again. She’d dealt with more broken promises than she had broken eggs. Holly separated the half dozen yolks for the lemon-curd filling and dismissed the doubt. “As far as I could tell, nothing about Luke has changed.”
“His employment record states otherwise.” Jake lowered himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and helped himself to a banana from the blue mosaic fruit bowl she kept filled.
“You’ve seen his record?” She tossed empty shells into the compost bowl on the sink as she pursed her lips to keep the snark to a minimum.
“Why else would I have recommended him for the job?”
Holly’s body went cold. “You recommended him? But why— How— Dad!” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shrieked. “I don’t care what he’s done since, Luke Saxon should have a criminal record for what he did to you. And he would have if you had pressed charges. He should have gone to jail. Instead, you let him off scot-free after he almost killed you.”
“He was anything but scot-free.” The chill in her father’s voice was like a slap in the face. “Luke was a good kid caught in a horrific situation. The accident was just that, an accident.”
“He was drunk when he got behind the wheel of his car.” Grief squeezed her heart like a steel fist. “That’s a choice, not an accident.” And that incident was why she’d learned early on not to get in any car with Gray. How many times had they fought over him driving Simon anywhere? How many nights had she lain awake and wondered how many drinks her husband had had in his system the night he’d smashed into the guardrail just off the San Mateo Bridge? “There’s no excuse for what Luke did, Dad.”
“Luke never tried to excuse what happened, even though he could have.”
“All these years and you’re still defending him. And now you’ve given him your job.” Holly slapped a towel against her legs and swung around. “You spent eight weeks in the hospital, Dad. Another three months in a rehab facility, and let’s not forget all the physical—”
“I might be getting old, Holly, but I don’t require you to remind me of the details.” Jake rubbed a hand over his thigh as if trying to get the circulation going. “What I did then was best for everyone, especially Luke. He needed someone to take a chance on him, to push him into a future he couldn’t see for himself. In some ways, the accident was a blessing.”
Holly bit the inside of her cheek. “Some blessing.”
“I have never once questioned your decisions, Holly.” Jake set his glass on the table with a clack. “You and I both know I could have. I’d thank you to extend me the same courtesy.”
“Dad, I—” But she broke off. She’d tried for years to put into words her feelings about those days after the crash. Her father had had weeks to prepare to return to an empty house, but it had been sixteen-year-old Holly who’d watched her mother pack up and drive off after Jake was safely out of surgery. She’d known her parents had been having problems, but she hadn’t realized how bad things were until the pressure of an injured, possibly invalid husband had proved too much for her mother to handle. Holly had been left to pick up the pieces of her shattered family.
“I wanted Luke’s life to mean something other than spending years rotting in a cell that by all rights should have been reserved for his father,” Jake said. “I’m sorry if this offends your sense of justice, but I wasn’t about to watch Luke lose the rest of his life because of one mistake in judgment.”
Holly’s anger struggled against reason. She could feel sorry for the boy, but hate the teenager who had gotten into his car twelve years ago. The man? To be determined.
“I don’t understand how you can be so calm about him taking your job, Dad. It’s the one thing you’ve always counted on.” The one thing keeping him focused and alert and not wallowing in the depression Holly feared would swallow him. Was he as okay with the situation as he seemed, or was this resignation masked acceptance?
Another shrug. “You know what they say. No good deed goes unpunished.”
“Not funny.”
“Holly, you, of all people, know life isn’t fair. And we knew if Gil won the election there was little chance he was going to keep me on as sheriff. I campaigned against him, was vocal in my opposition to some of his plans for Butterfly Harbor. I wanted someone to come in to the sheriff’s department with an objective, fresh eye. Someone who I knew wouldn’t be swayed by Gil or the township. Luke may be many things—may have been many things—but he’s not a pushover. He’ll put the town first. That’s all I want.”
Holly couldn’t wrap her brain around the fact it had been her father’s idea to bring Luke Saxon to Butterfly Harbor. He hadn’t changed, not where it counted. And certainly not enough to change Holly’s mind about him. “But—”
“Enough, Holly.” Jake exhaled slowly. “It’s been a long week and I really did just come for breakfast with my daughter and grandson. Where is the rapscallion, by the way?”
“He spent the night at Abby’s.” Holly smiled at the affection in his tone as she turned the burner on to medium. “I’m picking him up at noon. But I’d love to have breakfast with you.”
“Sounds good.” Jake hoisted himself out of the chair with a wince. “And please, for the foreseeable future, can we drop the subject of Luke Saxon?”
“Sure.” Holly bussed a kiss on his cheek. But as he busied himself emptying the fridge of breakfast contents, she crossed her arms over her chest, as if holding herself together.
All her life she’d watched her father put this town and everyone in it first, and now he was being kicked to the curb for the sake of “progress.” Whether resigned to circumstance or going with the flow, Holly knew, deep down, the loss of his job hurt her father more than he was letting on. He’d been hurt enough for one lifetime, especially by Luke Saxon.
* * *
HOLLY CAMPBELL HAD been right about one thing, Luke thought as he sat staring out his bug-spattered windshield. He was a coward.
Why else would he have driven out of town and spent his first night in a motel, instead of venturing into the house he’d grown up in? The house his mother had died in.
Why else would he still be sitting in his truck thirty minutes after turning off the engine, trying to muster the courage to walk through the front door and confront a past that may as well be a punch to the solar plexus?
Why else—other than cowardice—did Luke feel as if his heart was going to explode out of his chest?
He had yet to shake off the sadness that had descended during his ride through town yesterday, where memories of Butterfly Harbor had assailed him at every turn. Driving past the Tudor homes, cottages and bungalows on Chrysalis Lane had sent him reeling to the nights he’d wandered the streets, gazing into windows to envy families having dinner, watching television, living their calm, normal, peaceful lives.
He’d dreamed of having a house like theirs. A family like theirs. Now so many of those homes that represented every boyhood desire lay dilapidated, abandoned and in foreclosure.
The glossy paint and the brilliant color of lush fauna were nowhere to be seen. Nothing he saw in Butterfly Harbor said “welcome to town.”
Luke had yet to find anything of any kind that said “welcome” at all.
Despite the desolation, Luke had found the open, empty streets more appealing than the run-down two-story gray bungalow sagging in front of him now. And the shed beside it. Luke swallowed hard. The shed that could still trigger nightmares if he dwelled long enough.
Gil hadn’t been kidding when he’d said his father’s house had seen better days. A cool breeze slipped through the truck’s open windows. Panes of glass had been shattered; planks of warped patio board sagged against the side of the house. The half brick, half cobble detailing along the foundation had been worn away by neglect and salt air. The lawn, while short, was sun-dried brown, the unique wheat-colored hue that only resulted from dying earth.
How fitting, given the failing house had never been much of a home.
Funny. He’d been willing to expose himself to hatred and anger by stepping right into Holly’s world with barely a passing thought, and yet here he sat, paralyzed by a house containing memories that couldn’t hurt him.
Luke scrubbed a hand over his chin. Maybe coming back had been a mistake. Trying to make amends for the past felt selfish, but he at least needed to try. Still, it hadn’t taken him long to realize what he’d feared the past twelve years.
Luke didn’t belong in Butterfly Harbor.
The wind picked up and chills erupted along his bare arms. For an instant, he swore he heard the drunken, disparaging cackle echoing so often from his father—as if the old man was relishing Luke’s crisis of confidence. If there was one thing Luke was certain of, it was that Ward Saxon would have taken great pleasure in Luke’s difficult situation.
Eight years in the ground and his father could still chip away at Luke’s self-worth. Luke had been a soldier and a cop, but in his mind, he’d always hear his father beating him down, telling him he’d never amount to anything. That he would always be unworthy of respect, let alone affection.
Darkness crept across his heart, but the bright image of Holly Campbell’s wide-eyed face prevented the depression from completely settling.
While he was grateful for the second chance, part of him regretted running. But he wasn’t running anymore. He and Holly would have to get used to that fact.
He may as well ask for the secret of eternal youth. Where there was hope, even imagined hope, there was the possibility that life could get better. That was something his father would never have understood.
