Family Trees (23 page)

As they passed under the broad branches of a maple tree, John stopped.

“What is it?” Shelby asked.

“I'm not kidding, you know.” John turned his body away from hers, crossing his arms and looking out toward the lake.

“Kidding about what?” she asked, confused by his sudden change in behavior.

“About you,” he said with a pause. “I'll always be there for you, whether it's helping you deal with your family or work or—anything.”

“I know that.”

“I don't think you do, Shel.”

“John, look at me,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. He shifted his body away.

“The truth is, Shelby, I've
always
been there for you.”

“Please look at me.” She touched his arm again, lighter this time, and his shoulders slumped. “I don't understand. What's wrong?” She stepped into his line of view, forcing him to face her. When he finally did look at her, Shelby saw both pain and adoration in his eyes that she had never noticed before.

“I know you've always been there for me. We've known each other forever. You're one of my dearest friends, John. I can always count on you,” she said, her hand still on his arm, comforting him.

John uncrossed his arms and reached for her hand. He held it tenderly and took a step closer. They had held hands on countless occasions in the past. This time, it wasn't platonic. His skin felt charged against hers. Her cheeks flushed and she was suddenly unsure of what to say or do next.

She and John had reconnected soon after Ryan moved back to Chicago. When John told her how much he wanted to take care of her and help her forget the past year, she believed him. When he promised to do everything he could to make her happy, she was grateful. But now, standing close together beneath the tree, his words took on new meaning. He was about to change everything.

“This is about more than friendship, Shelby.” John's hand brushed along the side of her cheek and settled behind her ear. Her breath caught in her chest, surprised by how warm and tender his touch felt on her skin. “I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to tell you how I really feel about you.” He reached his other hand around her waist, and when she didn't pull away, settled it firmly on her lower back and eased her closer until their bodies were pressed together. She surprised herself with a sudden longing to kiss him. To know if the best man for her had been John all along. Her breath quickened as she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck.

John embodied everything that gave her contentment—her town, the happier days of her childhood, a love for the lake and its islands. With John at her side, she could care for her grandmother in her later years and carry on the family business. She could give back to those who had given her so much. John was exactly what Shelby always thought she needed. Comfort. Familiarity. Loyalty.

John was home to her.

His lips were soft, luscious. When he kissed her, he didn't rush. It was a savored experience, worth its wait. Generous and full of adoration. After all of the experiences they had shared over the years, she thought it was one of the most expressive and honest moments in their lives.

Being kissed by John was like taking that first deep breath after drowning in a storm. It filled her heart and brought her back to life.

Before leaving the park together, John held her in his arms while she rested her head on his chest. He ran his fingers lovingly through her hair and confessed his love for her. While it was sweet, and beautiful, and a blessing to receive, she couldn't help but wonder:
Is the safest choice always the best choice? By living my entire life in one place, even if it's a good life, would I be cheating myself out of the chance to experience something greater?

C
HAPTER
29

A
fter John's confession in the park, true to his word, he escorted Shelby back to the farmhouse to confront Jackie.

“Shelby! So good to see you again,” her mother cooed with such artificial sweetness it made Shelby's teeth hurt. Jackie approached her daughter with open arms. Her head tilted to the side and her tight smile gleamed behind a pair of lips that were slathered in pink gloss. Shelby allowed her mother to hug her, though her arms stayed limp at her sides and her head turned away from those wet, glazed lips.

“Hey,” Shelby greeted her mother flatly. Looking over Jackie's shoulder, she spotted several moving boxes beside two pink suitcases with gilded handles and stepped out of her mother's grasp.

“Shelby, honey, have you heard the latest about Ryan?” Jackie asked with excitement.

“No.”

“On my way here, I grabbed some magazines in the airport and there he was—looking so handsome on the front cover.” Jackie swung her hip out to one side, which nearly stretched the synthetic fabric of her dress to its breaking point. “He was photographed at some restaurant, but they said he's still single. That must mean something, don't you think?”

“That's the news that put him on the cover?” Shelby asked without hiding her irritation. “That he eats at restaurants? Wow. Stop the presses.”

“You don't have to be rude about it,” Jackie replied.

“Mother, you remember my friend, John Karlsson.”

John stepped forward to shake Jackie's hand. “Hello, Ms. Meyers. We've met a few times.”

“Were you that scrawny kid with all the acne? The one who practically lived here all through high school?” Jackie asked with no more than a superficial interest, just before closing her eyes and covering an exaggerated yawn.

“That's me,” John said with admirable confidence.

“Well, you certainly have filled out well. I'll give you that,” Jackie added, giving her lips a smack. “Still pining away for this one?” She gestured her thumb in Shelby's direction, and John continued to handle the jabs with ease.

“Something like that,” he said, sharing a knowing smile with Shelby. He then gave her a nod, which was their signal that he would cover if she wanted to break away. And so she did.

Shelby mouthed “thank you” to John and then brushed past Jackie and her luggage, and walked straight into the kitchen. She marched up to her grandmother, who was standing at the counter stirring a pitcher of lemonade.

“What's with all of the boxes?” Shelby asked in a forced whisper.

“Hello to you, too.” Ginny kept stirring without looking up. “I trust you had a nice time in town.”

“Seems like a lot of stuff.” Shelby leaned into the counter so her grandmother would be forced to look her in the eye. “She's only staying for a few days, right?”

“Would you care to sit down?” Ginny removed the wooden spoon from the glass pitcher and placed it in the sink before turning to Shelby. “Have some lemonade?”

“No, I don't want to sit. Come on, Gran—what's going on?”

Ginny glanced at the doorway and said, “I think you should sit.”

Shelby straightened her back and crossed her arms.

“Suit yourself,” Ginny said. “I'm going to sit.” She retrieved a clean glass from the dishwasher, poured herself a glass of lemonade, and then took a seat at the table. As Shelby continued to watch, impatiently shifting her weight from her right foot to her left, Ginny took several long sips of her beverage. Ice clinked against the sides of her glass. Jackie's cackle could be heard from the other room. Ginny let out a sigh. “She's decided to move back home.”

“What?! Moving? What does that mean?” Shelby strained to keep her voice down. “She's supposed to be here long enough for us to take care of Grandpa's ashes. That's it, right?”

“Actually,” Ginny said with a pause. “She just told me that she wants to stay.” She took another gulp. “Indefinitely.”

“Please tell me you said no.” Shelby pulled her arms tighter against her chest and clenched her hands into fists. “You did say no, didn't you?”

Ginny set down her glass and ran her palms over the smooth surface of the wooden table. “I told her she would need to speak with you.”

“Fine. She can speak to me all she wants.” She began to pace back and forth in the small kitchen, suddenly feeling trapped in her own home, the one place where she had always felt safe. “The answer is no. Four or five days tops and then she has to leave. We've gone through too much already this year.”

“Shelby, you should know that she wants to help run the farm,” Ginny said, pushing her chair away from the table. “And let's face it. With Olen gone, we could use all the help we can get.”

“I'll bet she does.” Shelby gulped hard, forcing herself not to cry.
How dare she? After all this time? She's more than twenty years too late.
“We don't need her, Gran—we don't!”

Before Shelby could offer more objections, Ginny gave her that tender, nurturing expression that had always been a comfort. “I know it's a lot to ask, but what else can you say when a loved one asks to come home?”

“No offense, but I'd hardly call her a loved one,” Shelby replied.

Just as Shelby turned to leave, her grandmother said, “Don't leave just yet. Come, sit down. It's time we had a little talk.”

C
HAPTER
30

R
yan found himself back in his father's expansive office with its mahogany and leather furniture, magnificent Lake Michigan view, and Chihuly glass. Although he had returned to the city months earlier, he hadn't discussed business with his father until this afternoon. Partly because of the fallout that ensued after Ryan declined the CM promotion, and partly because Ryan was busy preparing for his first art show and formulating a new business proposal. There was too much he had to sort out. Too many plans to solidify. Ryan wouldn't return to CM until he was fully prepared for a meeting with his father that, until recently, he doubted would ever happen.

At the start of their discussion, Ryan knew he had a lot to lose. While there was a good chance that his father would turn him down, Ryan hoped he would at least respect his loyalty.

“I see you've given this a lot of thought,” William Sr. said after listening to Ryan's proposition. He slid his tortoiseshell bifocals off the tip of his nose and set them down on his desk, then leaned his head against his high-backed leather chair and folded his arms neatly across his chest. “I'll admit, I didn't expect this from you.”

“Thanks for hearing me out. These last few months haven't been easy.” Ryan's posture relaxed slightly while sitting across from his father, feeling the relief of finally having said his peace. “For any of us.”

“Sadly, I couldn't agree more.” The pinch of distinguished wrinkles across William Sr.'s forehead softened. He rubbed his chin in contemplation. “If there is consolation in any of this, I'd say you've changed in ways I never would have predicted, Ryan. I'm impressed,” he said.

After everything that had transpired between the two Chambers men over the years, hearing his father's praise was an unexpected gift.

“I'm glad we had this chance to talk. I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't important,” Ryan said while his father nodded in agreement. “Listen, I'm sure you have a lot on your schedule today—I should get going.” When Ryan stood up, his father pushed his chair away from the desk and walked him to the door.

“I forgot to mention this earlier,” Ryan said as they crossed the room. “I see you named Maria Colton senior VP of operations at the shareholders' meeting back in January. Good choice.”

“It's an interim position. What she really wants is a move to the New York office,” his father replied. “I think you're well aware that I still have someone else in mind to lead operations. Assuming, of course, that he considers it more than just a ‘figurehead' position.” The CEO and founder of CM gave his son a sideways glance and then, with the corners of his mouth pulling back into an actual smile, he added, “I'm sure Maria would be very appreciative.”

“I guess that remains to be seen.” Ryan smiled back, reaching for the door. He thanked his father again before leaving his office and then proceeded to the elevator bay. Once he was in the privacy of the elevator, Ryan leaned against the railing of the brightly lit compartment, let out a heavy sigh, and smiled to himself. He removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket and tapped out a brief text to Brad and Pete:

 

C
HAPTER
31

W
ith John keeping Jackie mildly distracted in the front room, Shelby sat at the kitchen table waiting to hear whatever her grandmother needed to say. She watched as Ginny pulled out a step stool and stood on tiptoe to reach an upper cupboard that was rarely used, the one with chipped flower vases, random jars, and coffee cups that people collected as gifts but never end up using for coffee. Pushing aside a tin canister, Ginny reached in and pulled out a small cardboard box.

“What's that?” Shelby asked.

“Something I've been saving for you. It came in the mail last week, but I wanted to give it to you at just the right time.”

“For me?”

Ginny stepped off the stool and joined Shelby at the table. She stood beside her and presented Shelby with the box. “For you.”

Shelby didn't need to look at the return address to know who sent it. The purple handwriting gave it away.

“I don't understand,” Shelby said, rubbing her thumb over the box's sharp edges, hesitant to open it. “Why would she send me a package when she had plans to come back today? Why not just give it to me in person?”

“You'll notice that it's already been opened. She called me soon after she mailed it and asked me to keep it from you. She was having second thoughts. Once I saw what was inside, I had a long talk with your mother. A
good
talk,” Ginny explained, reaching down to set her hand upon Shelby's to steady her fidgeting.

“I don't think this is the best time, Gran. John is here and—”

“It's all right, honey. I'll go out and join them. Give you a little privacy, so you can read what your mother has written.” Before leaving, she placed a kiss atop Shelby's head. “Take your time.”

 

Shelby opened the box with a gasp. Inside, tucked in white tissue, was a small red book with gold script and a broken, keyless lock.
How
dare
she take my diary!

With careful hands, Shelby reached in to take out the diary. As she slid it out of the box, a note slipped out with it.

Anger welled inside. Betrayed, again, by her own mother. Shelby was sure she had delighted in pilfering through her innermost thoughts, the innocent expressions of a child, without a hint of regret.

Shelby opened her diary, hoping that she wouldn't find any signs of her mother's trespassing. Instead, she found notes. Dozens of notes, each carefully folded and tucked into selected pages throughout the diary. Her first response was to pluck them all out and tear them into pieces. But there was something about the notes that caused her to pause. They were neat. Carefully placed. Not at all like the letters her mother had sent in the past.

Against her better judgment, she opened the first note, the one that bookmarked Shelby's first diary entry from Christmas Day.

Shelby wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before folding the note and placing it back in the diary. And so it continued. One by one, she read each note. She found them nestled in among the pages where Shelby recorded the disappointments, fears, and insecurities she felt about her mother. Birthdays. A dance recital. Spelling grades.

Her mother apologized for every misgiving.

When she was finished reading every note, Shelby dropped her head into her hands and cried. The letters contained all of the words she wished her mother had written in the past. Displaced anger. Regret. Responsibility. Pride. Love from afar. It was all there, tucked between pages of her childhood reflections.

What does she expect me to do with these now? It's too late. And it's not enough,
she thought, drying her eyes and standing up from the table.
Gran may be ready to welcome her back home, but I'll be damned if I'm going to forgive her so easily.