A Family Affair: The Return Page 6

  “Grace, what are you talking about?” Max sat up in his chair, leaned forward, his hand inches from hers. “Did your husband hurt you?”

  She looked away. “I can’t talk about it now.”

  Which meant yes, he’d hurt her. Damn the bastard. “Grace—”

  She pushed back the chair, stood. “I can’t, Max.” When she slid her gaze to his, he didn’t miss the tears or the pain. A sniff, a muffled sound that fell out in a pitiful heap of torment.

  “Okay.” He stood, moved toward her. “It’s okay, Grace.” Max clasped her hand, squeezed. “Now how about we boil these potatoes, and then we’ll invite the neighbors since you’ve cooked for twelve people, not two.”

  That earned a smile. “Thank you, Max.” She blinked twice. “I…”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  5

  Max Ruhland might have lived his entire life in Magdalena, New York, but he certainly knew a lot about other places across the country, places like Los Angeles, Anchorage, Chicago, and Nashville. He’d read about them, or visited, and his storytelling fascinated Grace.

  “Did you know Chicago doesn’t sleep? People are out, walking in the city until midnight or later? And the restaurants? I’m not just talking about pizza, but any kind of pasta you want, and steaks, seafood. A weekend in Chicago isn’t even a warm-up.”

  “I’ve never been to any of those places.”

  He’d smiled, his eyes lighting up, his voice softening. “You have to go. There’s nothing more serene than Anchorage at night. Quiet. Calm. Made me think about moving there, just for the peace.”

  She’d pictured him in Alaska, bundled in a parka, trudging through snow, his lean body moving with grace and speed. Grant had promised her trips across the country, and then, across the ocean, but the closest they’d come to an adventure was a week in Myrtle Beach and four days in Niagara Falls. He’d promised so much and had delivered so little.

  “Hey, why the sad face?”

  Grace had let this one small truth slip out. “I always wanted to visit Alaska.”

  His blue eyes turned dark, his expression darker. “I’m sorry about your husband.” Long pause. “Maybe one day you’ll get there…”

  “Maybe.” He held her gaze, and she couldn’t look away. Why did he have to be so darned good-looking? So appealing? As the days passed and they spent more time together, would he grow even more appealing? And if he did, what then?

  “Grace?” Max pulled her back to the present and her aunt’s request. “I’m giving you first right of refusal on this list, but if you don’t want to pick, I’ll be happy to do it.” He grinned. “And trust me, it won’t be cleaning the garage.”

  A smile slipped out. “I’m sure it won’t be.”

  He patted his flat belly. “And I’ll be happy to help cook, but after tonight’s dinner, I’d be a fool to step in the kitchen unless it’s to do prep and dishes.”

  “Are you trying to con me into the kitchen with compliments?”

  Max shook his dark head. “Nope. Just stating a fact.” His lips twitched. “But next time, I think we can cut the potato quantity by half…and then half again.”

  She laughed, a real laugh that made her heart light. “Agreed.”

  He eased the list across the table, scanned it. “So, what’s your pick?”

  “What do you think about grocery shopping?”

  He made a face. “It’s right up there with laundry and cleaning the toilet.”

  Grace tried for a serious approach, failed. She tapped the pen against her chin, smiled. “Okay, grocery shopping it is. Now tell me what you like to eat, and what you can cook.” Pause, more pen tapping. “Because this is a joint effort and I’m not getting stuck in the kitchen.”

  His full lips pulled into a slow, dangerous smile. “No?”

  “Uh-uh. I’m finding a way to get into that garage.”

  They spent the rest of the evening planning the grocery list and numbering Frances’s list. Grocery shopping, cook dinner together four times a week… As she lay in bed later that night, listening to the whir of the ceiling fan, she thought of the last request. Max hadn’t tried to stop her when she placed Sit in the dark and talk for twenty minutes second to last, right before Watch the sunset at Boone’s Peak.

  What kind of talking did Aunt Frances expect them to do? A heart-to-heart-I-wish-things-had-turned-out-differently? Um, no. That was not going to happen. Max and Grace had a history between them that involved ramped-up emotions, touching and kissing, and a lot of unquenched desire in the back of his Chevelle. What would they share? The years between then and now? How could she talk about that without divulging the cheating husband whose infidelities she chose to ignore to keep her dream of hearth and home intact? Max would think her the most pitiful of creatures, and he’d be right. She’d not possessed enough self-respect to demand Grant honor his marriage vows, and she hadn’t been strong enough to leave him.

  If he hadn’t died, would she have divorced him? Or would she have believed his lies and pleas for forgiveness and started over once again? New beginnings, like before? Promises and renewed vows, all in the name of another chance? Aside from the initial acknowledgment of another woman who “meant nothing” to him and a short-lived question-and-answer session, the subject would be off limits. If Grace had questions that festered in her soul late at night, left her agitated and upset, she’d have to bury them—through denial or fabrication. Or maybe she would have turned to drink and pills to guide her through the maze of deceit that had become her marriage. In the last months before Grant died, her life had turned upside down and become unrecognizable, especially to herself.

  Grace flung back the covers, padded to the window, and glanced at the detached garage below. The garage door was open and a stream of light illuminated Max’s lean body as he bent over the hood of his car, jacket open, long legs in a wide stance. Her gaze fixed on those legs, traveled to his butt, his waist… A shiver of heat and what she refused to think of as desire swirled through her.

  There’d been a time when she’d touched those legs, ran her hands along the muscles… She blinked, her gaze locked on the left back pocket of his faded jeans. At seventeen, he’d carried his wallet there, and inside the wallet had been a small photo of them. You’re my good luck charm, he’d said, his slow smile creating a burn deep inside. You’re with me, wherever I go. Had he ripped up the photo the night she broke up with him? Or had he carried it around for a while as a reminder that people hurt those they cared about all the time, and it was better to guard your heart than risk letting someone crush it?

  Would Max have crushed her heart?

  What if she’d chosen him instead of the well-ordered life she’d insisted upon and a man who pretended to be someone he wasn’t? Would Max have hurt her, too, cheated on her, betrayed her? Would he have taken everything they shared and killed it with his lies? Tears blurred her vision, made it hard to focus. Grace swiped at her cheeks, homed in on Max’s back pocket. But what if Max were everything he’d promised? What if she’d veered off course when he’d begged her to and chosen him?

  Would they have found happiness?

  Would he have loved her with his whole heart and soul and never betrayed her, no matter what?

  Would he have given her dark-haired children with blue eyes?

  Would she have been enough for him?

  Would they have loved one another until they drew their last breath?

  Grace backed away from the window and the questions that filled her soul.

  But the biggest one was the one she had no answer for—was it too late?

  * * *

  Pete Finnegan stared at his fiancée. “How long are we supposed to go on like this?”

  Her hazel eyes lit up like she might scorch him. “What do you mean?”

  Was that a snarl? “You know what I’m talking about: the not talking, the arguing, the snide comments.” Pete studied the woman he thought he knew. “I don’t recognize you some days and that scare
s the hell out of me.” He’d lived through one fiancée-turned-stranger, though Heather was nothing like Elissa and had been more interested in his money than in him.

  Elissa had been different from any other woman he’d ever met, and he’d fallen fast and hard. He loved her, but the mood swings, the jealousy, the unfounded accusations that had escalated the past few weeks?

  They had to go.

  Pete sucked in a breath, began counting in his head, and waited. He usually got to six before she responded, but tonight it was a full ten-second count.

  “What do you expect me to say? It’s not easy to live in a place where everybody looks at you like you’re a traitor.”

  This again? How many times were they going to have the same conversation? “Look, babe, everybody does not look at you like you’re a traitor. So, you’ve had a few issues with one or two people—”

  “It’s a lot more than one or two people, Pete, and you know it. Rex MacGregor is making it his personal mission to take every opportunity to inform the uninformed about my association with Gloria Blacksworth, and my role in trying to break up marriages.”

  Pete dragged a hand over his face, let out a loud sigh. “I told you I’d talk to Rex, and I will. But I’ve got to find the right way to do it.”

  “I didn’t know there was a right or wrong way to tell the man to stop smearing your fiancée’s name.” She let out a huff. “The man owes me an apology.”

  Rex MacGregor didn’t apologize to many people, especially not one who’d gotten on his bad side. The man was old-school tough and the whole town respected him, including Pete. Elissa didn’t understand that you didn’t walk up to a man like that and make demands, especially when you weren’t 100 percent in line with the demands—meaning, Elissa might be the one owing Rex the apology. Pete decided on another angle, one that might avoid the need for a sit-down with Rex MacGregor. “Why does it matter what anybody says? Everybody has an opinion and a thought or two about what constitutes right and wrong. So what? Why do you care? The only person whose opinion you should care about is mine, and the same goes for me.” He forced a smile, held it in place. “Nobody else matters.” Pause. “Just us.”

  “I know that, but what about fighting for me? Don’t you care that he’s hurting me with his tales?”

  She neglected to add, tales that held truth in them. Elissa might hate the stories Rex and a few others were spreading, but she’d done the deeds. According to a few reliable sources, and her own admission, she’d gotten involved with Christine Desantro’s mother and been naïve and trusting enough to help the woman spread secrets about the town by way of letters. Of course, Elissa had believed she was honoring the wishes of a dying woman, but she was being played.

  “Pete? Don’t you care?”

  He took in the pinched lips, the narrowed gaze, the firm stance. Why were her hands balled into fists like she was going to take on the whole town? “Elissa, you’re being too sensitive. And if you think about it, what are those people supposed to believe? You hurt a lot of folks, or if you didn’t, you potentially hurt them by sending those letters and believing in the wrong person.”

  “I felt sorry for her. I couldn’t imagine a family deserting their mother, and I wanted to help her. I never thought she was capable of doing what she did.”

  “She was worse than anybody thought, but that isn’t the point. The point is you’re letting this town get to you. They protect their own; they even protect their own from their own if necessary. Look at me; the town thought I hurt my father and accused me of doing a lot of things that weren’t so great. So what?”

  “I’m not used to people questioning my integrity.”

  He scowled and spat out, “I wasn’t used to people in this town believing I wasn’t going to do the right thing.” His voice gentled, “And then you came and they changed their mind.”

  Her laughter fell out, bitter and harsh. “Sure. That’s before they knew who I was.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t know this was going to be so hard on you.”

  “It was a lot easier when it was just the two of us in the cabin, miles away from here.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “You can’t be that naïve. Life isn’t meant to be lived in a bubble.”

  “You think I don’t know that,” she shot back. “You think I don’t know how hard it is? I had a fiancé who cheated on me, remember? He had a child I didn’t know about, and got the woman pregnant again. I’m very familiar with tough times.”

  “You’ve got to get past this, Elissa. You can’t think it’s always about you or your feelings, and every time you get hurt, you can’t make me pay for what some other guy did.” He moved toward her, touched her shoulder. “I love you, and I want a life with you, but we’ll face tough times, whether it’s the opinions of people judging us, illness, or whatever else the world drops in our lap, but we have to stick together. No matter what.”

  “I know, but it’s awfully hard to ignore, especially when Nate and Christine have forgiven me. What right do these people have to judge? Have they never done anything they wish they hadn’t?”

  He sighed, stroked her shoulder. “Of course, they have, and they’ll come around, but you’ve got to give it time. They don’t know you; they don’t know that you’re a good person, that you didn’t meant any harm, that you’re too trusting.”

  “They would if they’d just listened. I tried to tell them.”

  “You don’t tell Rex MacGregor you’re a good person when you’ve taken a pot shot at him. He’s not the kind to sit back and keep quiet.” Rex wouldn’t give details, other than to say there was a letter involved and Elissa was behind it.

  “But your father forgave me. He said the letter was a good thing.”

  “That’s the biggest surprise of all.” Boy, was it ever! “I never thought my old man would—”

  “But he did, and he’s happier for it.” She smiled as if to prove good could still be found in her misguided loyalty.

  Elissa had a lot to learn about being welcomed into this town, and if she thought exposing secrets was helpful on any level, then she didn’t know much about human nature. Or she was too damn trusting. Maybe both. “Not everyone wants to come clean like that. I think it depends on how big a burden they’re carrying.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, planted her feet fighting-stance apart. “Rex MacGregor has a lot of influence and so do some of the other people in this town who don’t want to talk to me or acknowledge my presence.”

  “That’s protection speaking and you have to ignore it.”

  “It’s hurtful. You know, some people would be happy to see us split up.”

  He didn’t miss the annoyance in her voice or the accusation that slid in sideways. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’ve got admirers, and I think they’d be just as happy to see us not make it.”

  Admirers? What the hell was she talking about? “Admirers?”

  Those lips pinched. “Uh-huh.”

  “Name two people.”

  “Sara Gentry and Jodie Harris.”

  “You have got to be kidding. Sara’s looking to invest and I knew Jodie in high school.”

  She tilted her head, looked at him with a try-to-get-out-of-this-one look he’d seen from too many ex-girlfriends. Damn it, he wasn’t trying to get out of anything because he hadn’t done anything.

  “How well did you know this Jodie?”

  He was not going to touch that one. No way. “Elissa, I don’t like where this conversation is going.”

  “I’m not allowed to ask about your past relationships, especially when they’re trying to make them present relationships?”

  It was comments like these that made him remember why he’d never liked long-term. But Elissa was worth it, so he’d suck it up and answer her questions. Still, once he doled out the truth, he didn’t want to have to repeat it every five seconds. “You know, we’re supposed to be working on plans for a Christmas wedding, yet all we’ve done
is deal with your issues.”

  “My issues?”

  Damn. Wrong word. Women didn’t like it when you referred to their issues as issues. You had to dress it up and sugar-coat it with a less judgmental word like concern. Pete cleared his throat, reworked it. “I meant your concerns.”

  “Concerns? You make me sound like a psycho.”

  “No, that’s not at all what I’m trying to do, but you’re overreacting and there’s no need for it.” Why had he not seen this side of her before? There was an insecurity that was not attractive. He got that she’d been hurt, cheated on, and betrayed, but he wasn’t that guy and he was not going to pay for someone else’s mistakes.

  “I love you, Pete. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before.” She blinked, eyes bright. “You fill me with such joy.”

  Now that was exactly what he was talking about. She traced his lips, stared at them like she might start nibbling on them any second… And the nibbling would lead to something else…something that required no conversation, no thought, just the two of them being together. That was exactly what they both needed right now.

  And then she ruined it.

  “I want to trust you. I want to trust us, but there are pieces I don’t trust and I wish I did.”

  Pete dragged a hand through his hair, let out a long, hard sigh. “Well, let’s get it out in the open then, deal with this once and for all, so we can be done with it. Can we do that?”

  Those eyes grew brighter, the lips he’d kissed so many times quivered. “That’s the problem. I don’t know, I don’t know if we can get over it.”

  He stared at her, trying to come up with an answer that would let her know he wasn’t interested in anyone else. He’d said the words; he’d shown her in ways he thought would help. And yet it never ended. How did people deal with these insecurities? How did they get past it? A terrible dread started in his belly, jumped up his throat as the truth leached to his soul. Maybe they didn’t. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Elissa. Is this your way of trying to call off the wedding?” Maybe it was about her; maybe she didn’t want to marry him. Maybe she’d moved too fast and regretted it. He hated that he doubted them, hated that her insecurities had made him question their love. He wanted to be with her, wanted to spend his life with her, have children—the whole happily-ever-after crap, and now she was going to step in and question his commitment?