More Than Friends (22 page)

“It’s been over a long time,” she said. “I’ve dealt with it. I can’t ever forget, not because that night haunts me but because of all the tragedy it caused. I lost my future, I lost a baby. And most of all, I lost you.”

He looked away. She touched his chin and urged him to meet her gaze. The deep brown of his eyes dulled with her confession.

“Don’t fix me,” she said. “That’s not what I want. It’s not what I need.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, then shrugged. “That’s a new one.”

Tears burned and she blinked. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. Holding his wide palm against her face, she pressed a kiss to the callused skin.

“You should have been my first time,” she whispered, trying to smile. Another tear fell. “And I should have been yours. We should have learned about love and passion together—fumbling and giggling on that bed of yours in that big old house. We should have spent afternoons tangled in the sheets, listening for the sound of your father coming home. I always thought—” her voice cracked “—it would be you.”

“Jenny.” He pulled her close.

He cradled her head against his chest, while strong arms held her tight. She choked back a sob, not sure if the salt on her lips came from his body or hers.

“You had a choice,” she said, tightly closing her eyes. “And you chose to leave.”

“I thought you’d betrayed me. I left here thinking you’d betrayed me.”

“But you made a decision. My future—our future—was stolen from me in the front seat of a car. I never had a choice. And now you waltz back in here and want to fix me.” She pushed away and stared up at him. “Everything can’t be made right. The bottom line is when things got tough, you ran away. And you’re still running.”

He grew as cold and stiff as a statue, but she plunged on. “Maybe I did give up my dreams, but at least I did it for something I believed in and people I care about. I have a family that loves me. They were there for me. You might think sticking around to put my two younger sisters through college was a waste, but the day they graduated was one of the proudest I’ve known. I contributed to their lives in a way that will be with them forever. I made a difference. My job at the mill made all that possible.”

The tears poured down her face. She brushed them aside impatiently.

“I wasn’t going to say anything about the mill,” she continued, “but I have to. I loved you with all my heart and soul. And when you showed up here last week, all hurt and grown-up, I thought I still loved you. But the man I knew would never turn his back on these people. The man I lo—” she swore when her voice cracked again “—loved would find another solution. Stop running, Chase. All your life you’ve taken the path of least resistance. It’s time to stand and fight for what’s right. If you want to fix something, fix that.”

He grabbed his shirt and slipped it on. “You want it all,” he said. “Why not just cut me open and leave me here to die?”

“There has to be another way. Shutting down the mill—”

“Is the only answer.” He rolled up his sleeves with quick, jerking movements.

“It can’t be. If I ever meant anything to you, then please, reconsider.”

He stared at her. “If I keep the mill open, will you leave with me?”

“Have you heard anything I’ve said?”

He walked to the stairs. “All of it. Maybe I did run away back then. But you should take a look at why you’re so damn set on staying. What are you hiding from? What are you afraid of? You claim I can’t fix you because you aren’t broken. Maybe you’re too scared to notice the cracks showing around the edges.”

T
he mill changed shifts about the time Chase pulled onto the main highway. The slow traffic, the stares from the other drivers, caused him to turn right at the first exit and drive through the quiet residential streets.

He wasn’t familiar with this part of town. He’d never spent much time on the steel worker’s side and the only street he knew was Jenny’s. Bicycles and skateboards littered the sidewalks. A dozen or so kids played football on two adjoining front lawns.

He made another turn and realized he
had
been here recently. Anne lived nearby. He’d delivered the fishbowl and food to her house. Without stopping to think why, he followed the road and pulled in front of a modest white clapboard house. A little girl played with several dolls on the wide porch. The setting sun caught the gold in the blonde’s hair and he smiled as he recognized Tammy.

The five-year-old looked up at the truck as he pulled it up to the curb. A grin split her face and she raced across the grass.

“Chase, Chase, did you bring me another fish?”

“Not this time, kiddo,” he said as he stepped onto the lawn.

She held out her arms. He stared at her a second, then picked her up. Instantly, she snuggled close to his chest and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her weight, slighter than he would have thought, felt warm and secure. The trust in her smile, the sweet smell of grape juice and dirt and sticky fingers she was brushing against his neck, the roughness of her denim pants against his forearm, spoke of life and renewal.

“I told all my friends about you,” she said, with a grin. “They all love my fish. But Mommy says I mustn’t read too much into the gift.” She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “Sometimes Mommy forgets I can’t read at all.”

He chuckled. “Does Mommy tell you that you’re cute as a button?”

Tammy wrinkled her nose. “Sometimes. But mostly she says I’m a born troublemaker.”

“Tammy! Come inside. Now!”

Chase looked up and saw Anne standing behind the screen door. Her daughter sighed. “I gotta go.”

“Okay.” He set her on the ground.

“I’ll be six on Halloween. We’re having a party. You wanna come?”

“I’m not sure. I may not be around.”

“If you are, we have cake and presents and stuff. I’d even let you play games.”

“Young lady—”

Tammy offered him a wave, then ran toward the house. “That was Chase, Mommy. Remember, he gave me the fish. I invited him to my party next month, but he’s not sure…” She slipped inside the screen door and was lost from view.

He watched as Anne turned away and shut the wooden door firmly. From the look on her face, he knew she’d already heard from her father.

Next door, a man pulled into his driveway. He glanced at Chase, then did a double take. Animosity and fear filled the stranger’s eyes. Word was spreading fast.

Chase stepped into the Bronco and started the engine. He’d worn out his welcome in Harrisville, that was for sure. After putting the truck into gear, he started to ease out the clutch, then paused.

Where the hell was he supposed to go? He didn’t want to see the mill ever again. Jenny? He shook his head. He couldn’t go there. Not after what had just happened. He had no friends in town. For a second he thought of Mark Anders, then pushed the idea away. After what had been said after the funeral, it was unlikely his old high school friend would be pleased to see him. There was nowhere to go but that big house on the other side of town. Jenny’s father had cursed him, saying he was just like his old man. Maybe Davidson was right. William Jackson hadn’t had any friends in Harrisville, either.

As the daylight faded, he crossed the invisible dividing line of town. The haves lived on one side, the have nots on the other. If he had his way, no one would be living on either much longer.

Despite his playing the radio loud and his attempt to concentrate on driving, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jenny. Even now, her words filled him, her painful accusations cutting deep into places he’d long thought past pain. And what hurt the most was that she was right. It had always been about him.

After parking in front of the big house, he walked across the lawn and down to the river. The water flowed slowly south, the twilight making it easier to hear than see. In his head he admitted there was no way to make up for Jenny’s past, no deed that could erase the trauma and resulting circumstances. Regrets were fine for dreams and children, but he didn’t have any of either. Intellectually, he knew that distance would be the best thing for him. In a few weeks or months, he could think about what happened to her with a rational mind. In his head—

But in his heart— Dear God, a fist squeezed tighter and tighter until something inside had to explode. He bent down and picked up a twig, then tossed it into the river. A few birds called, a slight breeze rustled the turning leaves, but otherwise, he was alone.

Love had healed her, at least part of the way. Alec, that faceless challenger, had been there for her. He’d been the one to hold her through the bad dreams, to brush away the tears, to show her with body and soul that she was whole and clean and desirable. Alec had slain the dragons.

Chase was too late to make a difference in Jenny’s life. Too late to still matter. She’d loved him once. Her loss was greater, he acknowledged, but his still hurt. And when he was gone, the town would die. He’d never wanted the legacy of steel, but he’d never expected to leave a legacy of death.

He looked across the river toward the town. Lights came on, singly and in pairs. Car headlights reflected in the night. How many thousands of people would be affected by the mill closing? Five thousand? Ten? Would he hear them from his bed in Arizona? Would he see their faces in the desert sky?

Last night, between the exhaustion and the liquor, the plan had seemed so easy and right. Everyone would get something. The employees would get money and job training. Jenny would get better. And he-he’d get out. Now that he was sober, his plan didn’t look quite so appealing. He leaned against a tree. If he closed the mill, Jenny would hate him forever. And he had a bad feeling he might even start to hate himself. If he kept it open, he’d be obligated to stay; that was a sentence of death. Whose life was more important? Did the workers matter because there were more of them? Was leaving the mill alone truly the solution to wanting to “fix” Jenny?

She’d told him the truth. He’d been running so hard, he’d ended up right back where he’d started. The heaviness settling on his soul warned him that the only way out of this mess was to go through it. The test of fire; he’d be purged by the flames, or destroyed.

Two lives, he thought as he returned to the house. Entwined, he believed, but destined for each other? Events of the past had shattered any hope for the future, as they’d seen it then. Did he truly care about Jenny Davidson, or was he caught up in the should-have-beens? Was it guilt? Or was it love?

In the living room, he stacked logs in the marble fireplace. When the flames burned hot and bright, he opened the folder containing the plans to close the mill. Alone in the house, with only the shadow of the boy Jenny had once loved to sustain him, he burned the pages one by one. He’d find a way to make it work. For all of them.

*

It was almost midnight when he parked in front of the Davidson family home. The familiar house looked exactly as it had eleven years before. If he closed his eyes, he could see Frank Davidson putting up storm shutters, Jenny hunched in the passenger seat of his car, his own blood on his shirt after the older man had belted him one.

Despite the late hour, lights glowed behind pale curtains. A figure crossed in front of the living-room window. He’d gambled on the fact that Davidson, like Chase himself, wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

Walking up the path toward the front door was like moving into the past. How many times had he trod this exact path? How many times had he wiped sweaty palms against the leg of his jeans, cleared his throat to lessen the pressure of the lump in his throat, taken a deep breath to dissipate the nerves? The only difference was that tonight Jenny wasn’t going to be waiting on the other side of that door, her gentle presence a buffer against all the world’s hurts and her father’s animosity. This time he’d be facing Davidson alone. Man to man.

He knocked twice, then waited. There was murmured conversation, then Frank Davidson flung open the front door. For a second, he just stared.

“You’ve got some nerve coming here, boy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. I want to talk.” Chase shifted his weight. “Can I come in?”

“You can state your business right there on the porch.”

Mrs. Davidson appeared behind her husband. “Let him in, Frank. The news can’t get any worse.” The concern she had shown at the hospital was gone and in its place stood a tigress ready to protect her family. She studied him. Her green eyes, so like those of her daughter’s, searched for a sign of hope.

Davidson stepped back and held open the door. Chase entered the living room and stood awkwardly beside the floral sofa.

“You might as well sit down,” the older man said curtly.

“Thanks.” He perched on the edge of a cushion.

Davidson settled in the recliner opposite and his wife discreetly disappeared down the hall.

“It’s late for social calls. Say what you have to say and get out.”

Chase wiped his palms against his jeans and nodded. “I’ve decided to sell the mill.”

“Won’t do any good.” Davidson stared at the ground. “I took another look at those financial statements. The company’s only value is in the investments. Anyone fool enough to buy Jackson Steel will shut it down, same as you, then cash out the investments and sell off the pieces for scrap. We’re back where we started.” He glanced up. “Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but it won’t work.”

Chase smiled. “Not so fast, old man. There’s one buyer who’s foolish enough
not
to shut the company down. Someone who’d use the investments to buy new equipment and try to make a go of it.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“What?”

“Not you specifically, but the union. The workers. I’m talking about an employee buyout. I sell to you and then you’re responsible for the success or failure of Jackson Steel.”

Frank leaned back in his chair and whistled. “Well, I’ll be. We’ve got no cash.”

“I’d be generous with my terms. I’m not looking to make any money off this deal. I wasn’t when I talked about closing it down. That hasn’t changed. I’m setting up a trust for the union using my father’s personal portfolio. I don’t need the money and I don’t want—” He rubbed his temples. “Let’s just say it’s my way of fixing everything that’s gone wrong.”