Leaving Liberty (7 page)

           
“Distracted?” There were a lot of questions packed into those three syllables.

           
She rushed on. “There’s a butterfly garden off to one side, probably a whole
quarter acre of native plants and flower species. I’ve never even seen most of
them before and they’re just starting to bloom. And the cutest porch with two
rockers, side by side, facing the trees.”

           
“Rockers.”

           
“Uh, right, and the kitchen is all reworked in fifties décor. There’s even an
old mixer that works. You know, for making cookies.”

           
There was a long beat of silence. Daisy could sense Ana shaking her head.

           
“Of course, this all probably sounds very strange because I haven’t told you
why I’m staying.”

           
“I’m ready to hear it. Must be an amazing story to turn my urban friend into a
distracted, cookie-making porch rocker.”

           
Daisy allowed herself to smile a bit before she explained about the library,
the flood zone, the city manager, and the kids.

           
“Why didn’t you say so? I thought you’d been mentally hijacked by some small
town cult.”

           
“You don’t think it’s crazy?”

           
“Of course I do. But crazy in an understandable way. You’ve always said how
much that library meant to you.” She paused and her voice was soft. “I think
Marie would be really proud.”

           
Daisy blinked back sudden tears. “Thanks. I hope she is.”

           
“No doubt about it. And since you don’t even have a goldfish, I don’t have to
take care of your apartment.”

           
Oh, right. Apartment, clothes, car. “About that, I was sort of wondering if you
could use your spare key and go over there to pack me up some clothes. And, if
you really felt like being generous, you could pick up my car from the airport.
Pretty please?”

           
A soft snort sounded on the other end of the line. “Reality setting in?”

           
“I’m thinking paying for three months of Fresno International airport parking
might put a dent in my savings.”

           
“I guess I can manage that while you’re off saving the library.”

           
Daisy felt a surge of affection for her big-hearted friend. Not everybody would
indulge the whim of a woman on the verge of what looked like a super early
mid-life crisis. For that she was grateful.

           
How the rest of the town reacted to her plans would remain to be seen. She
already knew what the city manager and one over-protective police man had to
say about it. She wasn’t too worried about the city manager. The policeman
might just be the one person she couldn’t prepare for in all her careful plans.

                                                                         
***

           
“There’s
no need to be checking on me every day. I have a sponsor for that.” Rocky
McConnell’s gruff tone was in stark contrast to the slight smile on his face.
Freshly shaved, gray hair brushed back and a clean shirt made a picture of a
man who was looking forward to the day ahead.

           
Lane lowered himself into the porch swing, set down two steaming cups and held
up a white bakery bag. Sammy’s tail thumped the wooden porch from his spot next
to the steps. He knew what was in that bag. “Who else brigs Nancy’s fresh maple
twists and hot coffee? Not that sponsor I’m always hearing about.”

           
“He doesn’t deliver doughnuts. Not in his job description. But he keeps me
sober, which is more important.” He settled in next to Lane and opened the bag,
inhaling the sweet smell of Nancy’s secret buttermilk recipe.

           
“Amen to that.”

The two men sat in a comfortable silence
as the early morning sun rose above the mountains. Main Street was just waking
up and didn’t seem to care that it was a Monday. Bright spring sunlight, the
smell of dirt and growing grass, it all made for a perfect beginning to a
perfect week.

Except Lane had news that Rocky might
not want to hear. His normal routine of a leisurely chat with Rocky on the
porch before his shift began was almost painful. The more he’d prayed about it,
the more he’d walked around and around the issue, the more Lane was convinced
that Daisy’s stay in Liberty shouldn’t be wasted. There was real work to do and
it wasn’t about the library.

He cleared his throat, searching for the
words he’d chosen so carefully.

“Never saw a cop who wouldn’t eat a
doughnut.” Rocky’s lazy drawl cut through his thoughts. Lane glanced at the
glazed buttermilk twist in his hand, untouched. Sammy was sitting at attention,
waiting with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. Lane tossed him a bit of the twist
and took a breath.

“I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Daisy’s in town.”

“And she’s staying for the summer.”

“I heard that.” His tone was still slow,
calm. His blue eyes betrayed nothing.

“I thought maybe we could get together,
all of us, for dinner.” It sounded awkward and completely unrealistic now that
he’d let the words out of his mouth.

There was a beat of silence. Rocky took
a sip of the steaming coffee. “She said she wanted to have dinner with me?”

“Not exactly. I thought I’d check with
you first.”

“It’s not like I’m cherry picking down
the Twelve Steps list but number nine says ‘make amends wherever possible
unless it would cause them harm.’ ”

“She’s angry.” No sense beating around
the bush about it. “But I think she might be willing to hear you out.”

“Boy, I may have wasted half my life in
a bottle but I’m not stupid.” Again, his voice was gentle.

Lane felt his shoulders slump.
“Yesterday at church the gospel reading was on forgiveness and how many times
we need to forgive each other. Seventy times seven.”

The older man turned to him with a sad
smile. “But you’ve got ahold of the wrong end of this. I don’t need to forgive
her because she’s never done anything to me. Coming to ask if I want to see
Daisy is a waste of your time. Of course I do. I just don’t want to cause her
any pain. I’ve written her a letter and it was returned unopened.”

Rocky hadn’t told him that before.
Staring at the steam from his cup, Lane gathered his thoughts. “That’s it? The
whole step number nine? That gospel story has two sides.”

He frowned, blue eyes narrowed. “Not
following you.”

“It’s real safe on this porch, Rocky.
Sitting and waiting for Daisy to come home. You’ve written a letter she
wouldn’t read, so you get to cross off a step. Of course you’re a different
man, a reformed man, but you’re still proud.”

Sitting up straight, doughnut
half-eaten, Rocky snorted in surprise. “She’s happy the way she is. You think
I’m going to make her life better by insisting she forgive me?”

Lane took a breath, letting it out
slowly. Rocky was a good friend and getting in the middle of family drama was a
good way to ruin that friendship. But Lane couldn’t ignore the nudging he’d
felt all day after hearing that sermon.

“You might need to say you’re sorry face
to face.”

Rocky nodded, face set. “I can do that.”

“And if she refuses it, you might have
to try again. And try some more. I don’t know how many times it might take
until she realizes you mean what you say.”

The silence on the porch seemed to go on
and on, punctuated by the slow creak of the swing and the early morning bird
chatter.

“Seventy times seven times?” The old
man’s voice was low, as if he were speaking to himself.

“Could be.”

“You’re a good man, Lane.”

He shot Rocky a glance. “Is that a no?”

“That’s a maybe.”

He nodded and took a sip of his cooling coffee.
“That’s all I can ask for.”

Sammy watched Lane take the last bite of
maple twist and his head drooped. Rocky took pity on him and tossed another
crumb his direction, which he deftly caught in mid-air.

“The worst part about being the world’s
worst dad is that I don’t even remember most of what I did.”

Lane cringed at the thought. Guilt
magnified by fear, compounded by uncertainty.

“I don’t think I ever hit her, but there
was a lot of yelling. I didn’t even know she was there unless I was mad about
something.” His voice was low, hesitant.

The moment he’d chased Toby down the
street, yelling as loud as he could, sprinting to save his life before the semi
could take it, suddenly it had new meaning. Lane felt like he’d been kicked in
the gut. Daisy must have acted on instinct to protect Toby, despite years of
verbal abuse. What kind of steel core did it take to chase a strange man to
save a child when it would have been so much safer to turn away?

“One question.” Rocky turned, head
cocked to the side, eyes appraising.

“Shoot.”

“What do you think of her?”

Oh, boy. Any other question he could
have given an answer, but not that one, not really. He felt heat creep up his
neck and he stalled for time.

“Your face is saying she’s a snobby
urban socialite.”

Lane blinked in surprise. “No, not at
all.”

“Tattoos?”

He shook his head, starting to smile.

“Piercings? Dressed all in black?”

Lane was grinning now.

“Then what?”

The mental picture of Daisy all in black
faded away and so did the humor in the question. He thought back to Saturday
morning and their stand-off in the cabin. Who would have thought that Daisy
could stand toe to toe with him, stare him down, and come out the victor? He
wasn’t a weak man, the kind that blinked in the face of drama. But this woman stated
her case and waited for him to counter. All he could do is think of how Marie
loved her, how the town needed the library, how much he wanted her to stay.
It’s like he’d found a weak spot he’d never known existed. He wasn’t a man who
took a weak spot lightly.

“I didn’t know her before she left.” He
glanced at Rocky, but his face betrayed nothing. The old man stared down at his
boots, listening.

“She’s pretty. No, she’s more than
pretty. She’s…” He wasn’t used to describing a woman’s looks. Rocky gave a soft
snort.

“Son, you don’t need to go any further
there. She’s still my daughter and I would hate to chuck you off my porch.”

He felt his face heat up. “That’s not
where I was going. I meant she’s more than a pretty girl. Stubborn and smart,
but it’s more like she fills the room. Not loud, not vivacious, but you can’t
forget she’s there.”

After a pause, Rocky nodded, gray hair
falling over his forehead. “That’s the way she always was, filling the room.”
His eyes went dark with sadness. “When I was sober, I saw her. Otherwise I
acted like she didn’t exist. I was in bed when she left for school and already
drunk when she got home. Sometimes I would get a good look at her and wonder
how she ever came to be so bright. Just like her mother. And then I’d get real drunk
so I didn’t have to wonder anymore.”

Lane reached out a hand and laid it on
the old man’s shoulder. What could he say? Years and years of making his own
child ache with loneliness couldn’t be forgotten in a flash. Heaven knew if
Daisy could ever forgive Rocky for that.

“But not anymore.” His expression was
fierce. “I can’t make up for that, but I can say I’m sorry. That’s all I have
now. A whole lot of sorrys.”

“Maybe she can accept it.”

Rocky nodded, but his eyes were shadowed.
“Miracles happen everyday.”

He had faith that God could move
mountains of family dysfunction and leave a peaceful home in its place, but
Lane knew that Daisy was far from being able to welcome Rocky back into her
life. As far as he could tell, she didn’t even want to be in the same town as
the man. But if she was going to spend the summer working on the doomed
library, she didn’t have a lot of choice. And if he had anything to do with it,
Rocky would get a chance to speak what was in his heart. The rest was up in the
air. God would just have to hammer out the details and Lane was praying that
included a family reunion between two people carrying bitterness, anger, and
sadness from a decade ago.

Chapter
Seven

           
Old Liberty Library glowed warmly in the early morning light. Daisy couldn’t
help the smile that spread over her face as she trotted up the widely sweeping
front steps. Andrew Carnegie had donated more than ten thousand dollars, a
fortune for that time. A hundred years later and his investment had been repaid
in countless children discovering the joy of stories.