Happily Ever After (9 page)

“You don’t know much about Down syndrome, do you?” she asked.

The accusation hit him hard, and he clenched his jaw. Her stare nearly hurt.

“Let me help you out. Your brother and the others who live here are only one chromosome different from you. They think, have
feelings, want to feel worth and the love of family. They may not think as fast on their feet as most folks, and they often
struggle to reason things out. But they need to feel a part of God’s world as much as the next person.”

Joe looked away, unable to face her steely gaze.

Mercifully, her voice softened. “Gabe doesn’t work because he has to for money; he works because he has to for his spirit.
This is his home. He and the others are family. They depend on each other, and they want to build a life. Part of that life
is creating and running a business. With their money, they take trips, add onto the lodge, even help other group homes less
fortunate than ours. This garden is a way for them to depend on each other. They take turns running it. This summer, Gabe
is the foreman.”

Joe hung his head, feeling dressed down. “I’m sorry.I had no idea.”

Ruby stood, walked around her desk, and sat next to him on the sofa. Her presence felt motherly, and Joe’s anger dissipated.
“Joe, Gabe is very proud of you and all you’ve done. He talks about you constantly. We know a lot about you.”

A muscle in his jaw pulled slightly at her words. If she took what she knew and accidentally ran into Mona with it, his little
stopover in Deep Haven, his desperate escape plan, and the chance to help Mona build her dreams would crumble into sawdust.

“But you don’t know much about Gabe,” she continued. “I don’t know why you chose now to come to visit. But I think you should
stick around and get to know your brother. He has much to teach if you are willing to learn.”

“I should have visited more often,” he murmured.

“Yes, you should have,” she agreed. It hurt him to hear the truth spoken out loud. “But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.
Besides, I think Gabe understood your long absence and why all your travels took you everywhere but here.”

Joe frowned. “How’s that?”

She shrugged. “Your mother must have explained it to him.”

“Right.” That made sense.

“Either her or your father.”

Joe reeled, feeling like he’d been slugged. “My father?”

Ruby stood, seemingly unaware that she’d dropped news with the weight of an anvil on his chest. “Yes, he comes around a few
times a year, writes regularly. Even calls.”

“My father?” Joe felt weak and dazed. “I haven’t heard from my father since he walked out on our family when Gabe was three
years old.”

This information seemed to catch Ruby by surprise. Confusion crossed her face. “Wayne Michaels has been coming to see Gabe
for nearly four years.”

Throwing open her office door, Joe stormed through the house, barely hearing Gabe’s voice over the fury that boiled in his
soul. He hopped into his truck, started it with a roar, and peeled away from the Garden as quickly as his pickup could take
him.

Mona heard the engine of a vehicle slow and pull up to the curb but forced herself not to look up as she dug a hole in the
soil. She was thankful no one could hear the way her disobedient heart slammed against her rib cage. Joe had been gone for
four hours, and her rebellious emotions acted as if it were half a century. She gritted her teeth and refused to turn at the
scrape of feet on the sidewalk. The last thing she wanted was for Mr. Drifter Michaels to see the flush in her cheeks.

“Would you like to go out for pizza?”

Mona’s pulse rate plummeted at the voice. She rocked back on her heels, wiped a hair from her face, and dredged up a smile.
A well-dressed, slick-looking Brian Whitney marched across the grass, grinning. She tried not to compare him to the memory
of a rumpled and dirt-streaked Joe. So the guy didn’t have a lopsided smile—at least Brian didn’t smell like hard work and
sport a three-day growth of beard. She batted that delicious image away as well.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed, hoping he didn’t notice the enacted enthusiasm. She rose to greet him.

He shrugged. “It was just a quick trip for business.”

“The Deep Haven Zoning Commission doing some work in Duluth?”

His smile vanished. “Research.”

A breeze blew across the lake, raising gooseflesh on her arms. “Liza’s out back,” she said, filling the silence.

Brian nodded, then examined her garden. “What are you planting?”

“Peonies, dahlias, gladiolas. I’m putting in a hedge row of marigolds over there.” She gestured to a spot of furrowed land
edging the fence.

“Hope they bloom in four weeks,” he commented wryly.

She frowned. “They will.”

“Sure. Well, I know I said I’d take you out someplace nice, but I thought we could pop over to Pierre’s Pizza for supper.
I’ll do the fancy dinner next week.”

Mona tugged off her work gloves. “Pizza sounds great.” She gave him a stern look. “But we go dutch.”

“Right. We’ll see.”

Mona pointed a finger at him. “Dutch. I’ll get Liza.”She jogged around the house.

The sound of humming emanated from Liza’s pottery shed. Mona leaned against the doorjamb, watching her best friend stacking
unbaked pottery on her newly constructed shelves. Liza had a shipment of her finished, painted, and baked pottery due to arrive
any day from her workshop in Minneapolis. But Mona knew Liza was itching to dive into a chunk of clay. It was a stress reliever
as well as an occupation.

“Brian Whitney is here. He wants us to go out for pizza with him.”

Liza turned, a teasing glint shimmering in her black eyes. “Are you sure he wants to take us both?” She had slicked her hair
back into a bubblegum pink scrunchy and wore a fringed rhinestone-studded sweatshirt over black leggings.

“I’m sure—” Mona wrinkled her nose—“but we’re not going anywhere until you change into something a little less . . . conspicuous.”

Liza produced a mock-offended pose. “What, you don’t like my new bangles?” She tilted her head and leaned her ear toward Mona.
Mona peered at the earrings, then bit her lip to suppress her laughter. Only Liza could pull off a pair of hoops with rainbow
trout dangling from them.

“I’m just trying to blend with the locals.”

“By wearing fish?” Mona trembled with glee.

Liza beamed. “Listen, I’ll save you from a night alone with Brian Whitney, but only if I can wear the trout.”

Mona gave a start. “What do you mean, ‘save me’?

How do you know I don’t want to have Brian all to myself?”

Liza pushed her out of the shed, then locked the door. “Because I know he’s not your first choice of available men.”

Shock nearly sent Mona sprawling. “What?”

Liza turned, linked her arm with Mona’s, and led her toward the house. “You know exactly what I mean. You’d much rather build
porches or swat roaches with our local handyman.”

Mona went numb. “That is not true. Joe is nothing more than a drifter, an intruder in my life. The sooner he fixes this place
up and moseys on his way, the better.”

“You don’t know your dream man when you see him, honey.”

“My dream man is certainly not a know-it-all jack-of-all- trades. My dream man has aspirations, dreams. He’s intelligent,
thoughtful, and well read. Have you seen one book in Joe’s possession?”

Liza shook her head, her eyes glinting. “I haven’t been in his apartment.”

“I haven’t either!”

“He might have an entire load of books in his duffel bag.”

Mona rolled her eyes.

“‘My dream man has to be patient, a hard worker, someone who considers others above himself and is a Christian,’ ” Liza quoted,
her chin high.

“And be able to be vulnerable!” Mona spiked the air with a grimy finger. “Joe would rather tell a joke than be serious and
reveal his true feelings. He’s all puff and chuckles, the life of the party, but he guards his privacy like a secret treasure.
I would take Brian I-am-the-greatest- thing-to-ever-come-out-of-Deep Haven over Mr. Private Michaels any day. At least Brian
told me about his life. Joe won’t even tell me where he’s from.”

Liza crooked an eyebrow. “I knew it,” she said smugly.

Mona fumed and marched into the house behind her.

She spotted Brian outside, inspecting her flowers. With his suit coat flung over his shoulder and groomed eyebrows furrowed
in concentration, he appeared refined and stable, just the type of man who could fulfill her list of requirements. But as
he squatted to survey the new cinder-block posts, the image of Joe hit her hard—his short-cropped, tawny hair, his gray T-shirt
pulling over thick arms and a muscled chest, and his liquid blue eyes that somehow skinned calloused layers from her heart.

Mona scampered up the stairs, wishing Liza wasn’t always right.

Joe laced his fingers behind his neck and hung his head as he squatted on the beach. Every muscle tensed from the foolishness
of not cooling down after his run. But he hadn’t been running for exercise. Memories chased him along the beach, and he fought
to escape the pain that seemed as vivid now as it had been fifteen years earlier. Ruby had ripped open his scars with her
revelation, and the wound throbbed, fresh and gaping.

He’d spent the afternoon driving up the Superior coastline, searching for comfort in the rugged beauty that had so ministered
to his soul in years past. He’d finally surrendered to the fruitlessness and returned to the Footstep, hoping to bury himself
in manual labor.

He’d arrived in time to see Mona climbing into Brian Whitney’s black-as-night Honda. He tried to ignore the stab of new pain
as they drove off.

His chest heaved. Sweat ran in rivers down his back. Rage, like a separate being, roared about in his soul. Wayne Michaels—deserter,
quitter, destroyer—back in Gabe’s life. Just when Joe thought he’d buried the memories so deep they’d never be unearthed.

Joe jammed his fists into his eyes. The past revived, and he heard every angry, abusive word his father said echoing in the
waves slamming onto shore. In the cold foamy spray, he again felt his tears, and the screams of the seagulls voiced his broken
heart. Most of all, he felt the nip of blame in the stinging wind. Joe shuddered, burying his head into his drawn-up knees.

He would never forget the sound of his father’s Mustang roaring away from the house or the image of his mother, crumpled in
tears in the kitchen, pain etched into her face. She’d been so fragile after his father left, always exhausted from working
late at the hospital while Joe cared for Gabe.

Gabe. The little brother he had always wanted. The paradox of both loving and hating his little brother had tied Joe in emotional
knots. He didn’t know where to pledge his allegiance. After his father left, he had felt tied to Gabe, forced to drag his
abnormal little brother everywhere and defend him against the bullies of the world. When Joe was eighteen, he had broken the
bonds and left. Just like his father. But, he always reasoned, he’d been better than the old man who’d given up on them. At
least he’d provided, looked back, stopped in to check on Gabe now and then.

Why was his father back in Gabe’s life? He had no business interfering after all these years. He didn’t deserve the chance.

Joe groaned. What if Wayne Michaels had stepped back into Gabe’s life to get at Joe? to twist the family purse strings and
see if he could wring out something for himself? The thought made Joe nauseous. All his years of dusting the trail behind
him could be obliterated by one well-placed phone call.

No, Wayne Michaels had been writing to Gabe for four years. If he wanted to cause Joe trouble, he would have done so already.

Still, the urge to escape flooded over him and nearly put action to his feet. He had to move on. It was the only option he
could see from his perch on the rocks, as he stared into the rapidly darkening sky. A few faint stars twinkled.

Regret formed a jagged lump in his throat. Leaving meant he would have to abandon Mona. And he didn’t even want to think about
what it would do to his future. His last chance for redemption slipping through his hands like jelly.

Both realities made his chest tighten.

“Joe?” Like an apparition, Mona appeared. Joe blinked at her, gaping. She smiled and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are
you okay? You look pale.”

Joe couldn’t speak, his tongue locked somewhere in his foundering heart. He shook his head.

She frowned, her green eyes flecking with concern

.“Wanna talk about it?”

The tenderness in her voice threatened to make him cry. He shook his head again.

She considered him a moment, then settled next to him anyway. She began to flick through the rocks. “I saved you some pizza.”

He swallowed, cleared his throat, forcing pleasantness through his agony. “What kind?”

“Canadian bacon, green peppers, and mushrooms.”

“Thanks. That’s my favorite.”

Mona gave him a strange look. “Brian hates it. He and Liza got pepperoni.” She continued her rock hunt for a moment, then
stared at the sky. The wind pushed through the trees, sounding like a muted waterfall.

Joe didn’t fill the gap with conversation; instead he searched for the words to tell her he had to leave.

“I told them I wanted to take a walk,” she finally continued. “Stars calling, you know.” She glanced at him, and Joe caught
the sparkle in her eyes. He broke her gaze and looked woodenly across the lake. The sun had left a crimson fire simmering
along the horizon, painting Lake Superior flame red.

His one-word answer? Gabe. It all came back to his brother. Even now, Gabe was the reason the past had risen like a phantom,
haunting. Joe felt tears forming and pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes to drive them back.

“The Footstep is shaping up,” Mona said, oblivious to the emotional warfare being waged beside her. “I planted flowers today.
Tomorrow I’m going to paint the windowsills. And Ernie down at the bowling alley said I could have his old bar. He’s putting
in a new one. I thought it would be a great place to serve coffee.” As Mona’s words rolled out, Joe found her presence oddly
calming. He began to relax into her plans. The rushing urgency of retreat slowed.

“I’m renting a floor polisher on Monday. I’ll buff the floor and then add a coat or two of varnish. My wallpaper order came
in today also. I’ll slap it up next week.”

Her ideas bubbled over, and it was easy to crawl inside them. Her gentle voice, the way the wind played with her hair, and
her subtle fragrance of lilac balmed his heart in a way that seemed natural and safe. She sat slightly in front of him, and
he let his eyes skim over her fine profile. Smiling intermittently as her dreams tickled her, she occasionally peeked back
at him. He met her eyes once, held them with his own, and felt her strength and kindness surround him like a blanket. His
heart ached anew at her easy friendship. She was a lady who made him want to stay. Perhaps her dreams were large enough for
both of them to hide inside.

Mona paused in her monologue to hurl a stone into the water. It skipped twice, then plunged into the calm waters.

Silently pushing through the rocks with his index finger, Joe unearthed a flat one and topped her throw by two skips.

She whirled and frowned at him, her eyes glinting.“You’re messing with a master rock skipper.”

A grin crept up his face. He found another rock, bounced to his feet, and let it fly. He heard the rocks tumble as Mona scrambled
to her feet. He counted, his voice rising with each number. “. . . seven, eight, nine . . . ten!”