The Prodigal's Return (17 page)

Things with her parents were going to work out or they weren't. But thanks to Jenn, she knew she was going to be okay, even if it meant being by herself.

 

T
HE SOUND OF CHIRPING
filtered through Neal's apartment window. He growled and buried his head farther beneath the feather pillows he'd spent a fortune on because he'd slept on them as a kid. There must be a new family of birds nesting in the tree outside. The one his landlord wouldn't cut down.

The high-pitched, happy tune continued, taking him back to where he never went anymore—to the lazy summer mornings of his childhood. Half dreaming, half awake, he let himself remember days filled with nothing important stretched out before him, an open invitation to run free. School was out for the summer and life was good. He could do anything he wanted.

Sunlight warmed his closed lids, tempting him to wake. He never slept this late. He was usually in the office before sunup. But this morning he couldn't
move. He rolled away as he had several times already, no longer fighting the pull of remembering. Letting the dreams come.

Then the sound of giggling joined the bird's noise. Followed by the oddest sensation along his right side. He jerked and was rewarded with another giggle. Lifting an eyelid, he saw a hand snake along the mattress, headed toward his side again.

In an instant, prison instincts took over. He grabbed the hand, yanked whoever it was against the bed as hard as his awkward position would allow, and was rewarded with an ear-piercing scream. Jackknifing more fully awake, he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the impossible appearance of a life-sized Tweety Bird floating beside his bed.

“What the—” He winced as the next scream split his head in two.

“Mandy!” The door banged open.

Then time stood still as Jennifer Gardner flew into the room, gasping at the sight of Neal holding her squirming daughter by the arm.

The world righted itself. Visions from childhood and prison dissolved into the here and now. Fight-or-flight instincts receded, leaving behind the sharp tang of adrenaline coating his tongue.

He was on the outside now. He was safe.

More to the point, he wasn't in his apartment in Atlanta sleeping a work morning away. It was a
Rivermist Saturday, he was in his old room and he'd just scared Jennifer Gardner's daughter half to death.

His heartbeat settling, he scrambled to secure the sheet at his hip as Jenn dropped to her knees beside the little girl and pulled her close. Mandy buried her head in the golden hair cascading down her mother's neck.

“She startled me.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I didn't know who it was. She—”

“She was tickling you,” Jennifer explained.

“What?”

“Tickling you.” Jennifer's expression softened into a lopsided grin that had the unfortunate effect of waking a very morning-conscious part of his anatomy. “That's how she wakes her grandfather before she leaves for school, isn't it, sweetie?”

She jostled Mandy, kissing the little girl's neck and nudging her chin. “It's okay, honey. Neal doesn't know how to play your game. He didn't mean to scare you.” Then she looked at him, worry and understanding crowding out the fake cheerfulness she'd used with her daughter. “I'm sorry she woke you. I was trying to get out of here quietly, hoping you were finally getting some sleep.”

He'd been up half the night playing board games with his dad. They played more and more every day. Nathan tired too easily now for his favorite pastime: tinkering in the garage. But they were spending time
together, his dad's anger softening. The real man beneath reluctantly emerging to find some peace in hanging out with his son late at night when the rest of the world was asleep. Same as when Neal had been a kid.

All thanks to the beautiful woman kneeling next to his bed, close for the first time since their last kiss.

Jennifer.

“Jenn” was impossible now.

Her gaze slipped to the sheet covering his very bare lap. Her cheeks flushed, the way they had when he'd kissed her in the kitchen, and wanted to keep kissing her…. He'd wanted to lay her out on the table, strip off her nightgown and forget the reality crashing down on top of both of them.

But she'd been crying… Wanting him made her cry.

“Um…” he mumbled.

“We're heading out.” She wobbled to her feet, lifting Mandy with her.

“I'm sorry,” he said again. “I didn't mean to—”

“I know.” She smiled over her shoulder, the simple beauty of it killing him. “We're heading out with Traci to do some grocery shopping.”

The door shut as she backed completely out of the room, then he was alone. Alone with ghosts from the childhood he hadn't let himself remember before moving back here.

The bird outside kept up its nattering, echoing the past that kept rushing back the longer he stayed in this place. Planting the seed of a killer headache directly behind his right eye. An ache that had come and gone a dozen times since helping his dad dismantle the vintage car the man had slaved over. Not more than a few words had been exchanged as they'd reduced the Mustang to scrap once more. Silently bashing away at what they should have built together.

Neal picked up his watch, checked the time and slipped it onto his wrist. It was nine o'clock, when he'd planned to be up at dawn doing something—anything he could get his hands on—as he waited for whatever was supposed to happen next between him and his dad.

His dad.

They hadn't come close to talking about anything real yet. Nothing close to goodbye or…or saying they loved each other just one more time.

Maybe his dad would never be ready for that.

Neal grunted.

Or maybe
he
was still too chickenshit.

Do you have any idea what it's like…?

And he did. He understood the prison his father had built for himself all too well. And whether they said another damn word to each other or not, whether he spent every night either jogging or staring sleepless at the ceiling, he was going to be here. He was
going to make sure loneliness didn't add to his father's burdens.

But the drive inside him continued to churn. The need to run. Not from Nathan anymore, but from the woman living with them whose silence and loneliness were even harder to stomach.

Jenn worked furiously around the house, taught the Carpenter girl how to cook and clean when Traci wasn't in school. Basically spent her time hiding from the town she'd not so long ago hoped to make a fresh start in. The rumors about the two of them had been steadily growing according to Reverend Gardner—compliments of a still-pissed-off Jeremy Compton.

But Jenn had stayed, regardless, even if she'd stayed well out of Neal's way.

He reached for the box he'd placed under his bed. The shoebox holding Jenn's unopened letters. Letters that screamed how much he was a part of her reasons for fearing the love and passion still burning inside her. He'd shut her out. Let her down. Left her alone and hurting, and now she was afraid to ever again reach for anything close to what they'd had.

What could he say to make all she'd been through go away?

Don't be afraid, Jennifer…. Let me make you happy. We don't have to be alone anymore.

He'd said it. And he'd been too late.

Feminine laughter filtered up the stairs, bringing with it the sharp memory of Jennifer laughing in his arms at the homecoming dance, smiling. Her eyes shining with forever, as if she never wanted to leave that moment.

Cursing, Neal stalked across the room for his clothes.

Run.

He needed a run.

It took him less than a minute to throw on the sweats that made the temperatures outside bearable, then he bounded down the stairs. He heard someone puttering in the den and headed out the front door and down the silent street. And every step he took brought with it the impulse to turn around. To head back and beg Jennifer not to make him say goodbye to her, too, the way he'd soon have to say goodbye to his dad.

But he'd promised. He wasn't going to hurt her anymore.

So he took the turn at the end of the street and kept on running.

“T
HEY DID AN ULTRASOUND
this week when I went in for my first prenatal visit,” Traci said as she poured gravy over her mother's mashed potatoes—instant mashed potatoes that Traci had made herself. But Jenn had beamed proudly as if the teenager made them all by herself.

The Carpenters had actually agreed to dinner at the Cain house. Jenn was still having trouble believing it. Well, Betty had agreed after answering the door yesterday to Traci's
I won't take no for an answer
invitation. Bob had come along for the ride, but that didn't mean the man wanted to be there. But he
was
there, and Traci finally had her chance to talk with her parents one-on-one, without any outside interference.

Nathan had eaten earlier in the den with Mandy. He was falling asleep in front of one Mandy's favorite videos now, and Neal was out for another run. Jenn caught herself checking her watch and wondering when he would be back. The house felt
different without him there. Everything felt different, and he was gone more and more often every day.

Knock it off.

Focus on the awkward chitchat.

Chitchat that had just veered into dangerous territory.

Traci had wanted her parents to make the first move. She wasn't going to force them to talk about her pregnancy. But after twenty minutes of strained silence, the girl had cracked.

“Is…” Betty's forkful of butter beans returned to her plate. She glanced at her husband, and then to Jenn, of all people. Anyone but Traci. “Is everything okay with the baby?”

“Everything's fine.” Traci cast Jenn a frustrated glance. Jenn gave extra attention to cutting in to her overcooked baked chicken. “In fact, everything's great. They've given me a delivery date. The baby's due late in August.”

Jenn watched the Carpenters' reaction from under her lashes, continuing to eat as if this were normal dinner table conversation between a close-knit family. Traci had asked her to stay for moral support, otherwise she'd have joined Nathan for the Disney double-feature in the den.

“That's…” Betty glanced to her husband. “You're birthday's in August, Bob.”

“Cool, huh?” Traci pounced on her mother's
feeble show of interest. She seemed to be intentionally not noticing the way her father hadn't eaten a bite the entire meal. The way his hands were now clenched on either side of his plate. “You're going to have the same sign, Dad.”

“Cool?” Bob's face turned a nasty shade of red. “Astrological signs? You're having a baby you have no idea how to take care of, and the best you can come up with is, cool?”

“No.” Traci swallowed a lump of mashed potatoes. Her wobbly but brave smile met her dad's glare. “The best is that I'm healthy, and so is the baby. I may not know everything I need to yet, but I know I'm going to finish high school, with honors, even if you don't get to throw the world's most perfect graduation party because you'll be too ashamed of your knocked-up daughter to celebrate. And I talked to the school counselor this week about junior colleges. Jenn's helping me learn to cook, and to do laundry, so I can be a good mom, and—”

“Junior college?” Bob dropped his napkin on top of the untouched plate of food Traci had worked hours to prepare. “You wanted to be a journalist last time I checked. Ivy League with your friends was all you'd talk about. How do you propose to get the degree and experience you'll need while you're going to some nowhere college and trying to support a baby on your own?”

“I won't be alone,” the teenager countered, reassuring herself while she pushed her dad over the edge. “I'll find the help I need from…from somewhere.”

Bob Carpenter pushed back from the table with a shriek of chair legs against hardwood. “What are you going to do for child care, Traci? For money to buy the food you're learning how to cook, or buy the clothes you're suddenly so interested in knowing how to clean? Up till now, your idea of sorting laundry has been tossing your designer duds on the floor and pulling the tags off something from your bottomless closet. A couple of days of home ec with Jenn, and now you're ready to be a mom? Have this baby on your own, and you'll never make it.”

Every ugly word came from a place of worry and concern for his daughter. Jenn could see that from his haggard expression and the lines of fatigue bracketing his frown. She doubted the man had slept a night since Traci moved out. But every word had been absolutely the wrong thing to say.

“Actually—” Jenn covered Traci's hand, trying to put as much support as possible into the squeeze she gave the girl's fingers “—Traci's a fast study. I don't think there's anything she can't learn, once she sets her mind to it. She couldn't even boil water a couple of days ago, but she pulled tonight's dinner together
herself. All I did was chop a few things here and there and supervise.”

Bob scanned the table full of food. All of his favorites. Traci had made sure of it.

Betty gave his arm a tentative pat. “Isn't it wonderful? Everything's so delicious. I don't think I could have done better.”

“Jenn's signed me up for parenting and baby-care classes at the clinic in Colter.” Traci sat straighter, calm and determined now, where just a week ago she would have chosen rebellion to beat back at her father. “I have a lot to learn. But I can do this. I know that now. I want this baby to have the best I can give—”

“You don't have anything to give it! You're only seventeen. This is your doing.” Bob glowered at Jenn. “You just don't know when to quit.”

“I—” Jenn began.

“Jenn's encouraged me to move home all along, Daddy. I'm still here in spite of her advice, not because of it. And even though she doesn't always agree with me, she's supporting me instead of telling me what I
can't
do. So are Reverend Gardner and Mr. Cain. You should be thanking them, not pointing fingers.”

“Thanking them?” Bob looked ready to scream. “You're my child not theirs, and—”

“I'm not a child anymore!” Traci shouted back.

“Bob—” Betty's hand clenched on her husband's arm.

“No.” He pushed out of his chair. “I'm not going to sit here while my daughter tells me I should be thanking the people pandering to her irresponsible fantasies.”

“Trust me, Daddy. I'm not living a fantasy!” Traci shot up from her seat, too. “I've been puking into a toilet every morning. I've lost my friends, my family. And by the fall, I'm going to have another life depending on me. Me, Dad! I'm about as responsible as I can get. So don't worry. I get it. I've totally messed up. And if it weren't for Jenn I don't know where I'd be right now, but you can bet it sure wouldn't be here in Rivermist. So maybe you
should
be angry with her. It's her fault I'm not out of your hair and off messing up somewhere else where you don't have to watch.”

“We don't want you anywhere else.” Betty reached for her daughter, as if desperate to hold on, in case the teen ran that very second. “We want you to come home.”

“No.” Traci moved away. “I can't. Not if going home means spending the rest of my pregnancy being told day after day that this baby is a mistake. That I should be ashamed, and be sorry, and that I can't do this. My child's future depends on me, and I'll never make it if all I hear is how young and weak
and stupid I am. Here with Jenn, or somewhere else where there are centers where girls like me can start over, at least I'll have people who support me. Total strangers who'll at least lie to me and tell me I can do this, so I don't just curl up in a corner somewhere and quit.”

“Honey, we want to support you.” Betty's eyes filled with tears. She turned to her husband. “Tell her, Bob. Tell her we want her to stay in Rivermist, to come home. That we'll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

“Of course we don't want you to leave.” Bob's chin wobbled.

The first encouraging sign Jenn had seen.

She peeked in Traci's direction to find the teenager blinking valiantly at her own tears.

“But you don't want me home, do you? Not
me.
” A single tear fell. Traci wiped it away. “You want your little girl back. Your perfect high school graduate with a college scholarship and a prom to plan. You don't want
me,
messed-up and making you crazy. I want things you don't want. Things you don't approve of, and you can't deal with that.”

“We want you safe.” Bob cleared his throat. “We want your baby safe. We'll do whatever we have to do to make that happen.”

Traci cocked her head to the side, pondering her father's pseudoconcession. Jenn held her breath.
Reached for the faith her father had once helped her believe could breathe life into unsteady hope, until it was strong enough to fly on its own.

She wanted this so much for Traci.
For Traci,
she reminded herself. This family's success and failure had nothing to do with Jenn or whatever happiness she managed to find in her life.

Her father was right. So was her boss back in North Carolina. She became too attached to the lives of the people she helped. Identified too much with their ups and downs, rather than riding her own roller-coaster. She wasn't going to do that this time. Not to Traci.

“This isn't just my baby, Daddy.” The teenager covered her still-flat tummy and smiled. “This is my child. Your
grandchild.
Being safe isn't enough. I want this baby to be loved.”

“Traci,” Betty said. “We love you. Please, come home.”

But Traci wouldn't look away from her father. A man who couldn't seem to say another word. Shaking her head, she grabbed her plate and silverware and headed for the kitchen. When Betty stood to follow, Jenn reached for the woman's arm.

“Give her some time, Mrs. Carpenter.”

“Don't tell us what to do with our child.” Bob pulled his wife against his side. “This entire situa
tion never would have happened if you'd done your job and let us do ours.”

“You know—” Jenn picked up the bowls of potatoes and beans “—your first step might be to stop blaming your daughter, and me, and whoever else is convenient at the time for what's happened. All blame accomplishes is pushing people away. Traci made a mistake. She accepts that. Why can't you?”

“We have accepted it.” His eyes hardened. “We've asked her to move home. But it seems you've still won, haven't you? She'd rather be here than with us.”

“This has nothing to do with me.” Jenn worked hard to believe that.

The girl's family situation was so much like the one she had lost, it wasn't easy. The realization that Traci was stronger than Jenn had been at her age, that the girl had the grit to keep reaching for the kind of happiness Jenn had finally stopped believing in all together, made it even harder.

“The only people who are going to lose if you can't accept your daughter the way she is,” she continued, “are you and your wife. I have no doubt that Traci's going to come out of this just fine. She's an amazing young woman, and she and her baby are going to have an amazing life not only full of hard work and obstacles, but full of joy and hope, too. You can either be a part of that, or not.”

She headed for the kitchen before she said anything else. Before more of what she wanted, what she'd never had, touched this situation that wasn't about her at all. The room was empty, the back door ajar. Through the window above the sink, Jenn caught a flash of Traci's sweatshirt—the girl was standing beside Jenn's car.

Her shoulders shook with emotion as Jenn approached. From around front came the slam of car doors shutting. An engine firing. Traci flinched as she listened to her parents driving away.

“They're never going to forget what I said in there,” she cried. “I can't believe I talked to my dad like that.”

“Never is a long time, sweetie. You were sure Brett would never talk to you again.” Jenn hugged her, rocking slowly as she did when she was soothing Mandy. “Didn't you say he offered to help you if you needed it?”

“That's different.” She shrugged off Jenn's embrace. “That…that's friendship. My parents are all about control. What I think. What I feel. What I do. They're never going to change. They think this baby is something to be ashamed of, because they're ashamed of me. It's their grandchild, and they can't be happy about it. This is never going to work! I might as well…I…I need to get out of here.”

Jenn stilled at the teen's words. Get out of the
house for a while, or out of town? She couldn't let that happen! She wouldn't accept another—

Accept?

She closed her eyes against the echoes of her own past. Traci's choices weren't hers to accept or change. This wasn't about her life, her happiness. No matter how much she wanted to go back and find a way to keep believing in the future, the way Traci had up until this moment. The way Jenn had to believe the teenager still would once she had a chance to calm down.

Help the girl, Jenn. Focus on the girl!

Focusing on someone else. Jenn's specialty.

“Go ahead,” she said, digging her keys from her jeans pocket. “Take my car if you need to go for a drive. While you're gone, I'll…”
Get my head out of my ass and get my priorities straight?
“I'll take care of the dishes.”

Jenn watched the teen drive slowly away, her heart breaking at the sight of Traci's tears. The girl still had a chance, a chance she'd given herself by staying in Rivermist through all this confusion instead of running. A chance that circumstances and loss and too much grief had stolen from Jenn. Traci would find another way. Jenn had to believe that.

She walked back toward the broken-down house that had become a home again. Thought of the men who lived there together now, even if only temporarily. Thought of all the reasons she'd returned
to Rivermist and stayed—for Mandy, for her father, and then for Nathan and Traci. Her hope had been that they would all find their way before it was too late.