The Prodigal's Return (7 page)

“I didn't even know she was still living here.” Digging into Jenn's life would have meant caring about her again, and that would have been unbearable.

She'd been shooting for med school. If that hadn't worked out for her, there were other careers. Marriage. Kids. Whatever. Anything was better than the nightmare of him hunting her down after his parole would have been.

What the hell was going on?

“She told you your daddy was dying?” Buford's
question quivered with the same disbelief that still raged through Neal.

“No. She just stood there staring at the two of us, like she wanted to run and hide.”

“Understandable.” Buford nodded. “Considering…”

“Considering what?”
Damn it!
“Don't answer that. It's none of my business.”

Chicken-shit.

Neal braced his elbows on his knees. “Just tell me what's wrong with my father and what he needs, so I can make it happen and get out of the man's way.”

“Out of his way? You said Nathan's dyin—”

“And he doesn't want me here any more now than before he got sick with whatever's ailing him.”

His father's reaction to seeing him again had said it all. And it had hurt, when nothing in Neal's world had hurt in a long time.

The room filled with the sound of the clock ticking in the corner. Nothing else moved.

“You're both full of it.” Buford inhaled deeply. “That man's been waiting for you to show up for years. He—”

“Doesn't want a thing from me.” And forcing Nathan to say it again wasn't going to solve anything. It certainly wasn't going to fabricate an eleventh-hour relationship out of years of nothing.

“What if your daddy needs you to stay, whether he wants you to or not?” Buford asked.

“That's not going to happen,” he said. “I don't belong here in the middle of what he's going through,” he said. “Good or bad, this is what he wants. How we both dealt with what happened. All I can do for him now is make sure he has the best medical care available and stay out of his hair. If Jenn's helping him, then I'm grateful.” Whatever was going on between them looked more adversarial than nurturing, but that ranked right up there with everything else he should be keeping his nose out of. “If you can't tell me anything, I'll see his doctor before I head back out of town. I'll make whatever medical arrangements you think I legally can, and stay in touch from Atlanta. But I can't…”

“Hold Nathan's hand and watch him die?” The lawyer achieved both fury and sympathy in the same frown.

“God, Buford.” Pressing his fingers against his closed eyelids, Neal tried to rub away the image of his father's pale complexion. The tremor of weakness in his hands, in his angry defiance. “Don't sugarcoat things on my account.”

The ache in his chest burned higher.

“This is your chance to settle things, son. Don't turn your back on this place again. I don't care what that old goat said. Your daddy's life has become a
shrine to giving up. Don't make the same mistake and run away again.”

“I'm not running.” It wasn't lost on Neal that he'd spent several hours that morning loitering on the outskirts of town contemplating doing just that. “I'm giving my father the distance he wants.”

“Then I reckon it's a blessing the man's stumbled into Jenn Gardner's help.” The lawyer sounded dubious.

“I guess so.” Neal clenched his fists against the thought of his father's
blessing
, and what the woman had somehow managed to make him feel just by standing in front of him. She couldn't have sprinted away any faster, and all he'd wanted to do was reach out and hold on, until something—anything—made sense. He headed for the door. “I'm going to see what I can pry out of Doc Harden.”

“Say, Neal…”

Shoulders sunk, he paused with the door half open. “What?”

“Take it easy on Jenn if you see her again.” It wasn't a friendly request. “It blew most everyone's minds, her coming back here in the first place, after everything she's been through. Whether you want to know the details or not, that girl deserves a break. I got no idea where she found the nerve to approach Nathan the way you say she has, but I don't figure Reverend Gardner's
too happy about it. Don't go and become part of her troubles again.”

Neal jerked the door open and stomped through the waiting room he and Jenn had once played board games in—passing the time during rainy summer days. Mrs. McCrady had kept the games in the bottom drawer of her beaten-up desk.

Don't be part of Jenn's troubles?
If trouble still haunted the woman, there was no doubt he already had his share of the blame, same as he did with his father. How could he not? He reached the street, then stalled, the outside air condensing around his face as he exhaled. The invisible coming to life before his eyes.

You don't want to leave, man. Admit it!

The worst of it was, he hadn't wanted his father to leave that last day they'd argued in prison, either. But he'd forced himself to let the man go. It had been the right thing then, same as leaving Nathan and Jenn in peace was the right thing now.

Only he couldn't stop remembering how he and his father had consoled each other after his mother's death, learning to love deeper to make up for her loss. His arms wouldn't stop aching for all the times he hadn't been there to hold Jenn, whatever she'd been through. He knew just how she liked to be cuddled, how perfectly her head fit on his shoulder. The magic of loving her. Of becoming a part of her with an
honesty and completeness he hadn't been able to capture with any woman since his parole.

Churning, rolling up from the deepest part of him, the compulsion to do whatever he could for these people besides leaving again wouldn't let him go.

He'd thought staying away was the best he could do for the people he'd hurt here. Maybe he'd been wrong.

Maybe.

B
ANANAS
. J
ENN NEEDED BANANAS
. The fiber and the vitamins would be great for Nathan. Anything that dipped below the seventy-five-percent preservative threshold would be a slam dunk. She pushed her cart toward to the other side of the store.

Her quick stop at the Buy Right after church to replenish the dry goods she'd raided from her father's pantry, and to buy more essentials for Nathan Cain, was taking forever.

Forever was exactly how long she needed before she was ready to face the Cain house again.

Had Neal gotten in to see his father? Would he be there today?

So what if he was? She'd simply leave the men to it, same as yesterday, and be grateful Nathan was no longer alone. That the two of them had this time to make things between them right.

Neal was back in Rivermist for his father, not her. He couldn't have made that more clear. There would be no more heartbreakingly awkward conversations
between the two of them, thank God. No more silent moments of staring at what she'd never have again. Too much had happened between them for there to be anything but silence now. She'd make this one last gesture, bring Nathan one last care package, then bow out as gracefully as possible after her mad dash to her car yesterday afternoon.

Assuming Neal was there at all.

After church that morning, her dad had offered to watch Mandy for the rest of the day. That left Jenn plenty of time to take care of the dying old friend he was clearly concerned about.
If Neal can't help the man, I'm glad…I'm glad Nathan has you
, her dad had said last night. It had blown her away. Witnessing genuine concern for a man he hadn't spoken to for the better part of a decade had been like glimpsing a tiny bit of yesterday. And he hadn't even pressured her for a reaction to seeing Neal again, beyond a softly spoken, “Are you okay?”

She took a blind turn around a display of Fruit-O's, hit the home stretch to produce, and—wham!—ran right into the back of a man reading something from the magazine rack.

“I'm so sorry.” She hurried to his side. When he turned to face her, she stumbled back. “Jeremy!”

It was creepy, the way Bobby Compton's younger brother kept turning up, conveniently in her path and never exactly surprised to see her. He was home from
whatever college he was pursuing an MBA at—taking a semester off before he graduated, she'd heard his mother complain at the dry cleaners. He'd just shown up several weeks ago, unannounced, and had refused to reenroll until the spring.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

Sure. Gaping at a ringer for his dead brother was a piece of cake.

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?” She moved the cart another inch away from his butt.

“No problem.” He grinned good-naturedly.

The guy was only a few years her junior, but he would forever be the obnoxious pest who'd tagged along when they were kids, whenever Neal and Bobby would let him. And his increasingly attentive interest when most people—including his mother—made a point of avoiding her, wasn't helping his pest quotient.

He glanced behind her. “Where's the kid?”

Jenn's spine stiffened. She quietly suffered every slanted look and public snubbing Jeremy's mother dished out. To Mrs. Compton, she and Neal would forever be the murderers who'd never pay enough for taking her baby away from her, and the woman was entitled to her say. Jeremy, on the other hand, could take a flying leap. Particularly today.

“She's with her grandfather,” Jenn managed
calmly. Friendly would have invited more conversation.

“Oh, right.” His expression heated from total lack of interest to that come-on leer she no longer thought she was imagining. “You always look so great.”

She jumped at the feel of his palm on her arm. A cold sweat broke out between her shoulder blades. She'd been nice but distant each time they'd talked, hoping he'd catch the hint. She worried about his feelings more than she would any other creepy guy, because she was part of the reason his mother seemed unable to approve of Jeremy, because he'd never be as perfect as his dead, older brother.

She tried easing away now, but his grip tightened. She insisted, yanking until he turned her loose. It had been a long time since she'd invited a man's touch. Any man but Neal, whom she'd had the insane urge to launch herself at not more than a second after seeing him again yesterday.

“Just as pretty as ever.” Jeremy's smile dipped closer to creepy this time. “Man, we had some good times, didn't we?”

After Bobby's death, his mother had become Rivermist's moral authority. But that hadn't stopped Jeremy from leading the fast and loose crowd Jenn fell in with after Neal's conviction. Her part in his family's loss had almost seemed to heighten his interest in a way that she'd known was wrong even then.

“Things have changed.” She took another step away. “Besides, I've had enough good times to last me for a while.”

“I was over at Bandit's lounge the other day.” Irritation seeped through the invitation in his voice. “They've got a ton of Springsteen on the jukebox. Whataya say we check it out tonight? Could be fun.”

Springsteen and Jeremy, and enough weed and vodka to guarantee she couldn't think straight.

Yeah, those were the good ol' days.

“I have to go,” she said. “I have a really busy day.”

“I hear you were over at old Mr. Cain's place yesterday. That Neal is back.” His hand stalled the cart she was inching backward, his eyes hardening as they looked over her shoulder toward the automatic doors at the entrance. “I bet you'd make time fast enough if that son of a bitch came sniffing around for a date.”

Which meant what, exactly? That Jeremy was pissed he hadn't managed to get a fresh piece of her first. It was a bizarre thought, but—

“Long time no see, man,” he sneered, his attention trained on whoever was behind her.

Jenn flinched at the sound of approaching footsteps, her heart fluttering in her chest at the insane hope that Neal would be there when she turned around. When she spun to find him several feet away, her heart seemed to give up beating altogether.

No matter that she'd convinced herself they wouldn't see each other again. She'd dreamed of him last night, anyway. Of them. Of a lifetime ago, and what their lives might have been like if so much hadn't happened.

“Jeremy.” Neal's attention dropped to where the other man held her cart in a viselike grip.

Survival instincts taking hold, she made good on her escape. She felt their stares follow her all the way to the produce section, but she refused to look back. Refused to hope it was Neal following her when she heard someone approaching.

“Jenn.” His touch was soft on her elbow; the name he used a harsh reminder that this was no dream. “Can we talk for a minute? It's about Nathan.”

“Nathan?” She couldn't help but turn. “Since when do you call him anything but
Dad?
”

Neal only stared in response. He still looked the part of a hard-as-nails businessman, even if his suit was slightly more wrinkled this morning. Too-dark, too-calm eyes studied her from a face that showed no hint of the jumbled mess of loss and hope and regret that had been churning inside her since yesterday.

“Did you two finally talk?” It hurt to look at him, so she began cataloguing the contents of her cart.

“I wouldn't be here, putting you through this, if we had.” The rasp of his voice made her wonder if
he'd slept any better than she had last night. “I need to know how long you've been helping him.”

“I…I only came over for the first time yesterday.” She was twirling her hair, she realized, and he was watching her. Making her wish he'd reach out and run his hands through it, the way he once would have. Exactly the kind of pointless wishing that made talking with him like this a really bad idea. “It didn't take long to see that your dad wasn't well, that his crankiness is more bark than bite.”

Without warning, the corner of Neal's mouth lifted into a smile. “You always were a soft touch.”

“He's been trying to kill himself for years,” she bit out. If she sounded angry, it was only at herself. There was no place for that smile in her world now, a fun fact that it shouldn't be so hard to keep in mind. She cleared her throat before continuing. “It didn't take a soft touch to see that and want to help him.”

“But why you?” The smile was gone. A hard look replaced it. Neal would have no way of knowing that she'd seen exactly the same expression on his father's face yesterday, or what the similarity between the two men was doing to her determination to keep her distance.

“What?” She'd completely lost track of his question.

“Why you? From what Buford's told me, the man's done everything he can to run the rest of the
town off. Why did he open the door for you? What's your secret?”

He no longer sounded so detached from the situation. In fact, he sounded just the tiniest bit jealous. Her resistance softened.

“I wouldn't let him drive me away. I wouldn't let him keep thinking I didn't care about him.” It was what she wanted for Neal, too. For him and Nathan both. They still had some time, if Neal would only give it a chance.

“He's locked me out.” Neal shook his head. “And I—”

“He'll change his mind eventually. Keep trying.”

“No. He won't, and I—”

“Neal—” She reached for his arm, refusing to believe that the amazing young man who'd felt too much responsibility to avoid paying for his friend's death could give up this easily on his own father.

“I need your help, Jenn.” He evaded her touch. “That's why I stopped when I saw your car outside. I have no right to ask for anything after all this time, but I don't know where else to turn. Are you going to keep seeing him? Are you going back over there today?”

Neal needed her.

“Yes, but—

“Then will you keep in touch with me about his condition? I'm heading back to Atlanta, and—”

“Heading back?” The stupidity of what he'd said kicked her temper into gear. “You haven't been in town for twenty-four hours, and you're leaving again?”

“There's nothing for me to do here but cause trouble.” His beautiful eyes dimmed with the kind of regret that couldn't not affect her. “I was awake all night at the hotel, trying to get my mind around this. There's nothing else to do.”

She was tempted to thunk him upside the head for being so dense. “How about trying to get through to him again? That would be a good start.”

“I did after you left yesterday!” He ran a hand through his hair. “I did everything but shatter a window to get back into that falling-down old place. The man ignored me. What else am I supposed to do if my father wants me out of here that badly, but let him die in peace?”

He practically shouted his last question. He was close to coming unglued. A sight most people in Rivermist might have backed away from, given Neal's prison stint and the sheer size and muscle he'd put on since anyone here had last seen him. But Jenn could never be afraid of him, no matter how much of a stranger he'd become. And she, of all people, understood what it had cost him to come back to Rivermist. How badly he still needed to leave this place behind.

“You try again.” She stepped closer, rather than
away. “And then again, for as long as it takes. It'll be worth it, when your dad finally trusts you enough to let you in. Once he remembers that you're still a family, even after everything that's happened.”

“Even if that were possible—” Neal's head was shaking “—I can't stay. I have an important case back in Atlanta. Clients I can't bail on.”

“Clients?” she asked, then she remembered. “The word around town is that you're a lawyer now, like your dad.”

His expression hardened.

“Convicted felons aren't allowed to practice law, Jenn.”

The word
felon
slapped her hard.

She refused to see him that way. She always had.

“So if you're not a lawyer, then you…”

“I help society's castoffs maneuver Atlanta's over-taxed, understaffed legal system, and I make sure they get a fair shot. I had a lot of time on my hands in prison. There was the gym, the gangs or the library. I chose the books. Reading kept me from howling at the moon, so I devoured everything I could get my hands on. Every law book they had.”

Of course he'd chosen books. And his father's favorite books at that. He'd scored a 1530 on his SATs. Colleges had been heavily recruiting him, for both academics and football. There was a time when he'd had the world by the tail.

They both had.

“I'm taking night courses at Georgia State Law School whenever I have the chance,” he continued, falling into the easy rhythm of conversation that was second nature to people who'd known each other all their lives. Except, Jenn reminded herself, they didn't know each other at all anymore.

“But, you said you couldn't—”

“Practice law in a courtroom?” He waved away the thought. “That's just going through the motions. The real work is done on the outside. Most cases never make it before a jury. Once they reach a courtroom, the verdict's usually in the bag—either through plea bargains or pretrial briefs and conferences with a judge. I offer free legal aid. My defendants can't afford their own attorneys, and I make sure they don't get lost in the system.”

“You're helping people who have nowhere else to turn.” Pride for what he'd become warmed her. “If you can do that after everything you've been through, I know you can get through to your dad. You just have to keep trying. He needs you, Neal. More than either one of you realizes.”

“Come on, Jenn.” The deadness in his voice was that of a man still in prison—only this one, of his own making. “You and I both know that me staying here is the last thing anyone in Rivermist needs.”