Beneath the Patchwork Moon (Hope Springs, #2) (10 page)

“Merrilee Gatlin’s son?” Kaylie asked, and Luna nodded. “Wow. I’d heard she and her husband had a child in the
rehab facility, but I had no idea of the details. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“Nothing really happened to me. Except the break—”

“Luna,” Kaylie said, and wrapped an arm around her. “You lost a friend. You lost two friends. And knowing what I do of Merrilee Gatlin, I can’t imagine she did anything to help you with your suffering.”

An understatement if ever there was one. “According to Merrilee Gatlin, her family was the only one who did suffer. I was alive, so my parents couldn’t know what she and her husband were going through. And the Caffeys buried their daughter, so they got closure. As if that was supposed to be some kind of consolation.” Even now, thinking about that family’s grief had her chest tightening. “Oscar was the one driving the car, and yet the Gatlins made life so miserable afterward for Sierra’s family they eventually packed up and left town.”

“That’s the property where you’re building the arts center, right? Where their home was?”

“The house is still there, and still filled with all their things. They only took clothes and keepsakes, and even then they left a lot.” She thought of the personal items she’d found. How Sierra’s room appeared to be untouched, though she hadn’t been inside to check carefully. “They just up and started over.”

“Where did they go?”

“To Mexico. Angelo, he’s the oldest son, called their mother’s family, and they came to help.” She breathed in, breathed out. “He’s here now. Angelo. He came to go through the house before it’s torn down. If we do tear it down. Will’s going to talk to Ten and see if maybe we can save it.”

But Kaylie ignored all talk of the house to hone in on what was important. “You must’ve known him pretty well. Angelo. Being close to his sister. It’s got to be good to see him again.”

Oh, where did she even begin to describe what it was like seeing Angelo Caffey? “It is, except…”

“You’ve got a history with this man,” Kaylie said, reading between the lines.

Luna laced her hands together, pressed them between her knees. “We spent a lot of time together in the past.”

“And where exactly did you spend all this time?”

Luna felt her face coloring. “That, missy, is none of your business.”

“I knew it!” Kaylie slapped her hands against her thighs, her feet against the stair. “You have a sordid past!”

Luna sputtered, then bent over laughing until she couldn’t laugh anymore. “I do not! At least no more sordid than any other sixteen-year-old girl whose best friend’s brother is a god.”

“Oh, so now he’s a god.”

“Was a god. Was. It was a long time ago.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what I see on your face when you talk about him.”

“If you see anything, it’s exasperation that I’m having to put up with him at all.”

“I know you better than that.”

Luna was ready to explode with all the things she was feeling for Angelo, but she had to work them out for herself
before she said anything about them to Kaylie. “Tell me about this order you want to place.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure that I want to hear about it? Or sure that I don’t want to talk about Angelo?”

“Either. Or.” Kaylie reached over and tucked back Luna’s hair. “Both.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Now…”

“I want holiday napkins. Linen. I’d like holiday place mats, but since I’m already pressing my luck, I’ll settle for the napkins. Then I’ll buy place mats to match.”

Luna smiled. “I could do napkins. I could do place mats, too. Linen’s tricky. I’ll probably need a different loom. And the thread requires special handling. Let me do more research. And I need to know how many you want of each, and what sort of story you want to tell.”

“I’d like to tell the story of the house, my history here, the Wises and all they did for me. And the brownies, of course. I’m not sure how to do that, but thankfully that’s for you to figure out. As far as how many…” Kaylie screwed up her face. “You know my layout, how many seats I have. But since I haven’t opened yet, I honestly don’t know what the lunch turnover will be. Maybe we could just plan this for next year? Asking you to take this on now is just way too much. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I—”

“Kaylie, stop. Please,” Luna said, laughing. “Yes, I’m busy with the auction items, and my Patchwork Moon collection, and I honestly don’t know if I can fit this in for this holiday season, but let me think about it, okay? I might need more time just to decide how to tell your story, much less do the weaving. Especially now that I’m moving.”

“You close today?”

“I get the keys this afternoon.”

“You’ve got to be so excited.”

“I’m not sure excited covers all of what I’m feeling,” she admitted.

“Is it going to be strange leaving the only home you’ve ever known?”

“Is the better question, How strange has it been to live with my parents for twenty-eight years?”

“That doesn’t bother you, does it?” Kaylie asked. “I thought you loved living there.”

“I do. I have.” The years had been nothing less than wonderful. “But, yes. I should’ve been out on my own long before now.”

“You support yourself. I think that counts.”

She helped with the expenses at home, too. But the reasons she’d stayed so long had nothing to do with money and everything to do with the security and comfort of having her family close. The ten-year anniversary of Sierra’s death, her mother’s unexpected pregnancy, and the weight of the deception she’d borne so long had finally brought her to this realization. Angelo’s arrival had intensified the desire to make the change she’d put off too long. Her family would always be close. He’d gone on with his life without his.

“Maybe it does, but I feel like I’ve hit a no-turning-back point in my life. I have to move forward. And I also need to be going,” she said, getting to her feet and giving the other woman a hug when she did the same.

“I’m here,” Kaylie said, tucking Luna’s hair back again. “Anytime you need to talk.”

“I know. And I appreciate it. And I’ll let you know soon if I think I can fit in your napkins and place mats. Just know they won’t be cheap.”

Kaylie laughed. “I never thought they would be.”

Talking to Kaylie helped. By the time Luna arrived at the house, she wasn’t feeling as overwhelmed as she had been. Crazy, she knew, considering Kaylie had asked her to take on more work, but talking to the other woman always leveled her out. If Kaylie could deal with everything she’d had on her plate over the years, and especially the last few months, Luna could deal with Angelo Caffey.

Because that was what was going on here. That’s what this was about. It wasn’t the arts center, or her moving, or the arrival of her baby sister, or even Oliver Gatlin adding to the stress she felt. It was seeing Angelo. Kissing Angelo. Feeling a rush of emotions both familiar and new, an amalgam of her young crush and her later lusty cravings and her current confused state of wanting less of him and wanting him more.

And though he’d only just arrived in town, she’d been thinking about him leaving again. What it would be like to have him walk out of her life a second time when she’d never expected him to return at all. She hadn’t been ready for him, had been frightened, then speechless, then their sniping had found its way into the room and things had settled into a comfortable familiarity.

She laughed to herself at that, the idea that arguing and one-upmanship was normal, and continued to dig through the built-in drawers that took up the lower half of an entire
living-room wall. The upper half of the wall was devoted to shelves. Books, and dozens of school portraits in hinged frames with family snapshots, and trophies. Lots of trophies. Emilio’s for soccer and Angelo’s football, Teresa’s for piano and Sierra’s cello.

This room was as ridiculously clutter-filled as the kitchen, which she hadn’t yet finished. There were drawers of sheet music, and others filled with spools of thread. Years of report cards. Tiny tools and extra screws and found buttons and twist ties and pencils with broken leads. Anything she could have needed in a pinch was in one of those drawers, but apparently no one ever had.

Angelo walked into the living room then, his steps having pounded overhead all morning as he packed the room Isidora and Teresa had shared. Familiar footsteps, though different, heavier. He was heavier now, filled out, grown up. But his impatience was what she remembered, demanding. His restlessness. She’d always wondered about that. What he had wanted. Why what he had wasn’t enough.

She wanted to know. Before he left, she wanted to discover what drove him, because surely it would help her understand her continued fascination when she hadn’t seen him, even heard from him, for more than eight years. She looked up from where she sat on her knees, a deep drawer open in front of her. He’d stopped at the end of the couch, resting the box he held against the back.

He wore blue jeans, scuffed work boots, another T-shirt, an old favorite she recognized that was too small for him now and washed too often for her not to stare. This one was gray, with a red, white, and green map of Italy down the center, the toe of the boot ending just above his fly. She returned her
attention to the drawer, reaching for the first distraction she could, and holding up his third-grade report card.

“An unsatisfactory in conduct? So you’ve always been a hard case?”

He shook his head, snorted. “I had a sister in first grade, another who was two, and a newborn brother at home. Shades of things to come for the next four years, but I was eight and overwhelmed.”

Interesting, she mused, looking down as she slid the card back into its slot. A real card. Printed on what felt like a manila folder. Handwritten grades and notes and signatures.

Angelo went on. “My parents wanted me to play pee wee football, but my bike was a piece of crap and barely got me to school. Practices were across town, and I was worn out when I got there.”

“But you couldn’t take out your frustration on Sierra or Isidora or Emilio, so you took it out on third grade.”

“Mostly I took it out on fifth grade. I just happened to be in third.”

That made her smile. “A scrapper, huh?”

“I knew better than to whale on smaller kids.” He shrugged. “Older kids were fair game. At least to my eight-year-old way of thinking. Not so much to my dad’s, though you can see his opinion didn’t do a whole lot to stop me. Putting a hammer in my hand finally did.” At that, he hefted up the box and headed for the front porch.

They’d been stacking things out there, one end for trash, one end for donations. A truck was due tomorrow afternoon to pick up the latter; it was the third load of giveaways, and they’d have at least one more. The trash was waiting for the arrival of a second Dumpster.

“I thought I’d run out to one of the burger joints on the interstate and grab some lunch,” he said, stepping back inside and leaving the front door open. “Want something?”

“A cheeseburger would be great, thanks.”

“You prefer one place over any other?”

“Any one of them’s fine. Add bacon and jalapeños. No fries. A chocolate milk shake.” She got to her feet. “My purse is in the car. Let me get you some money.”

He waved off her offer. “I got it. You can buy tomorrow.”

As if there was no question that she’d be here to eat with him. “Is that what we’re going to do now? Take turns?”

“Seems fair,” he said, shrugging carelessly. “Until I run out of cash. But we should finish up before I hit bottom.”

And once they finished up, he’d be gone. “What would happen if you extended your time away? Would you get fired?”

“Five days not enough for you?” he asked, his expression suggestive.

“Just answer the question,” she said, and tried not to roll her eyes.

“Why would I want to do that?”

The better question was, why was she asking him to? “I thought it might be nice to have someone from Sierra’s family involved in putting the center together.”

He waited for the full jolt of what she’d said to settle, then: “That would mean staying on. In Hope Springs.”

“For a while, yes.” This time she shrugged, but without pulling off careless as well as he had. “Or for as long as you wanted to.”

He came farther into the room, cocked a hip, and sat on the couch arm. “And are you asking someone from Oscar’s family to be involved, too?”

“I can’t imagine them being interested.” Because this was Luna’s community-based project. And Luna came from the wrong community. And then there was Oliver’s digging into the accident. She couldn’t ask them because of that. And she couldn’t tell Angelo why she couldn’t ask them. “They never were big fans of Sierra.”

He studied her fiercely, frowning. “Did she know?”

“That they didn’t want Oscar dating her?” She nodded. “She never told you?”

“She may have. I don’t remember.” He reached up, rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t exactly a model big brother.”

“Sierra thought you were,” she said, wanting to soften the blow of the things he was feeling.