The Wishing Season (28 page)

Finally Daniel dropped his napkin on his plate and wrapped his arm around Jade. “I’m stuffed. The food was great, as always.”

“Hey, Mom,” PJ said. “Can I get Grandma’s potato salad recipe? I want to add it to the Sunday brunch.”

“Sure, honey. It’s in my recipe book over the stove. She’d be tickled pink to know it was being served in your restaurant.”

PJ squeezed Cole’s leg. “Be right back.”

“The copy machine’s out of black ink,” Dad called after her. “There’s a cartridge in the overhead cabinet.”

The rest of the family headed to the court for a game of HORSE while Mrs. McKinley began gathering the dishes.

Cole opted out of the game and stood to help her. He had some trust to earn, and there was no time like the present.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that.”

“Least I can do, since I didn’t pitch in with the cooking. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

Her wide smile reminded him of PJ’s, but that’s where the similarities ended. PJ had dark straight hair while her mom’s was short and blond. Her mom’s eyes were ice blue, not warm chocolate brown, and PJ was tall and slim like her dad while her mom was average height and a little thicker.

He followed Mrs. McKinley into the house with an armful of dishes. They unloaded them and returned for the rest. Darkness had fallen, and the lights lit up the small court. The game of HORSE had already gotten competitive, and a playful argument ensued.

As they gathered the dishes, the air between him and Mrs. McKinley seemed to become charged. He was beginning to wish he’d skipped out on cleanup like the others.

“It seems as if you’ve had a lot of misfortune in your lifetime, Cole. It takes a strong person to overcome such difficulties.”

Cole gave a tight smile. “We play the hand we’re dealt. Not much else we can do.”

Mrs. McKinley scooped up the silverware, her movements slowing down.

He got the feeling she was stalling.

“You seem like a really nice young man . . .”

Cole clenched his teeth as he set the lid on a casserole dish and pulled it toward him. “But . . .”

Mrs. McKinley gave a you-got-me smile and made a big deal out of stacking the remaining plates just so. “PJ’s our baby, as I’m sure you know, and we couldn’t love her more . . .”

Cole refused to bail her out. He straightened with the Crock-Pot in his arms and met her gaze head-on.

“But she hasn’t always made the best decisions, particularly regarding young men. Oh my, some of the boys she brought home in high school!” She gave a little laugh that strained his last nerves.

“At first her dad and I thought she was going through a rebellious phase. I mean, her first boyfriend got expelled from school for drug use, her second was constantly getting in fights at school, the next one had another girlfriend, and on and on. Each one seemed worse than the last. I guess she saw some salvageable quality in each one of them. Or maybe she thought she could fix them, I don’t know.”

Cole followed her to the house. “And you think I’m just another in a long line of poor choices.”

She turned on the first porch step, their gazes level. “I
have no qualms with you, honey. I know you’ve been through a lot.” Her gaze darted to the ground, then back to him. “But PJ needs someone stable. Someone who can be the voice of reason. Someone levelheaded.” Her eyes bored into his.

She was referring to his arrest. He wondered for the dozenth time if he should’ve just kept his fists to himself. “I was defending PJ on Sunday. I’m not going to stand by while some guy manhandles her.”

“We met Keaton once before when we visited her at college. He seemed like a very nice young man, and as I recall from my conversations with PJ last spring, he had his act together. Graduated from college with honors and had a nice steady job. She was happy with him. He treated her well.”

Except for the wife and little kid, he was quite the catch. But Cole couldn’t say that, now, could he? It was PJ’s secret to tell. Besides, it would only reinforce what her mom said about her poor judgment. Warmth climbed Cole’s neck, and he locked his teeth together.

“I really thought they’d end up together, and I just think, you know, maybe she’d give him another chance, if she were available. It’s obvious he’s still interested in her.”

“That’s PJ’s decision.”

“You’re right, it is.” She gave him a look that made it clear he was standing in the way of that.

PJ burst through the door, waving a paper. “Got it!”

“Oh, good, you got the ink replaced. I never can figure out how to do that.”

PJ folded the paper and stuffed it in her pocket, then took the Crock-Pot from Cole. “You go play. I’ll finish this up with Mom. It sounds like they need a referee.”

Cole agreed, eager to part ways with Mrs. McKinley and forget all the ugly thoughts she’d planted in his head.

“You okay?” PJ asked after her mom slipped into the house.

“I’m fine.” He set a kiss on her perfect lips. “Go help your mom.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

S
OMETHING WAS WRONG WITH
C
OLE
. H
E
’
D SEEMED
distracted and less affectionate the last couple days. When PJ quizzed him about it, he said he was tired or anxious for Lizzy’s arrival, but she couldn’t help but think it was something more.

Maybe something had happened at the farmhouse. But other than the awkward questioning at the table, her family had behaved. She was glad. He needed people, needed family, more than he even knew.

But it was Sunday, and once again she was seeking him out. She found him upstairs, making the second bed in Shaundra’s room.

“Knock-knock,” she said.

The smile he turned on her made her insides melt. “Hey, Sunshine.”

Her spirits buoyed. “Getting things ready for Lizzy?”

“Yeah. I found this bedding at the thrift store. What do you think? Something a teenaged girl would like?”

It was turquoise and yellow with giant daisies. “It’s perfect. She’s going to love it. I can’t wait to meet her.”

He straightened, the smile falling as he took in the room. A twin bed hugged each wall with one nightstand and a narrow
walkway between them. A small bureau was against the opposite wall.

“It’s kind of small for two, isn’t it?” he said.

“No smaller than the room I shared with Jade. They’ll make do. Shaundra will be a great roommate, and it’s not like she’ll be here much longer.”

She’d decided to go straight to culinary school, starting with the summer session at Vincennes. She’d even scored a decent scholarship.

“That’s true.”

But then he’d be filling Shaundra’s spot soon after—if he won the house. That June 1 deadline was closing in.

Cole had gone quiet, and she wondered if his thoughts were traveling the same path. They hadn’t discussed what would happen. At this point, PJ didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t even want to think about it.

Cole gave the porch swing a push and settled his arm around PJ. When she cuddled into his side, he tucked her head under his chin. Her hair smelled like Italian food with just a hint of the sweet flowery notes underneath.

She shivered against the chill in the evening air, and he rubbed her bare arms. She was telling him about a student in tonight’s class who’d mixed up the basil and oregano, ruining her pesto.

As he listened to the lilt of her voice, his mind replayed Mrs. McKinley’s words, as it had so often the past four days. Was he just another in a long line of losers? Was PJ better off without him?

She wasn’t better off with Keaton. He knew that even if her mom didn’t. But was he going to fail her like he had his family, his sister? Was he only going to hurt her in the end?

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he smiled when he checked the screen. Lizzy.

“Mind if I take this? It’s Lizzy.”

“Not at all.” PJ pulled away, a sweet smile curving her lips. She’d helped him put the finishing touches on Lizzy’s room. It was all ready for her arrival at the end of the week.

“Hey, Lizzy-Lou.”

Silence greeted him. Then a sniffle sounded.

“Lizzy?”

“Cole, this is Becky.” Her voice was thick with tears.

Dread snaked down his spine. “What’s wrong?”

“Is someone there with you?”

The sharp blade of panic cut through him. “Yes, what happened, Becky?”

“Honey, I don’t know how to tell you this . . .”

He stiffened, meeting PJ’s eyes. Fear flooded through him. “Is Lizzy okay?”

More sniffles. “No, honey. No, she’s not. She—Greg and I came home this evening and . . . she was on the floor in her bedroom. She took Greg’s pills he had left over from his surgery—all of them.” Becky broke down.

PJ set her hand on his thigh, and he realized it was stuttering up and down. “Is she okay? Did they pump her stomach?”

“She—she was already gone when we got home. We called 911, but there was nothing they could do. Oh, why did I leave her alone tonight? We took the kids out for pizza, and we invited her along, but she said she had homework . . .”

She was gone? Lizzy was gone? His eyes burned, his breath felt stuffed into his lungs. His heart pummeled his chest, making an ache big enough to swallow him whole.

“That boy broke up with her yesterday. She was so upset, but this morning she seemed better, and I never dreamed—” Becky sobbed into the phone.

“Is she okay?” PJ whispered.

Cole tried to remember their last conversation. Just a few days ago. She’d seemed less excited about coming, but he thought she was just sad about leaving Braden. They hadn’t been seeing each other long, though. And she mentioned that Braden could move to Chapel Springs when he graduated in June.

But now she wasn’t coming. She’d never be coming. She was gone.

“Honey, are you there? Are you okay? I know how close you two were . . .”

“I’m here.” Was that his flat voice? “I—I have to go.”

“We’ll let you know about the arrangements. Are you okay? Are you coming home?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. I just—I have to go.”

He didn’t wait for her to say good-bye. He turned off the phone, letting his hand fall to his lap. This couldn’t be happening. Lizzy couldn’t be gone.

PJ took his hand. “Cole? Talk to me.”

He watched the hanging basket of flowers across the porch sway in the wind. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen Lizzy. He’d gone back to Fort Wayne to see her and get the rest of his things just before the kids came. She’d been crying, but he’d told her he was doing this for her and that in less than a year she’d be coming to live with him.

She’d looked up at him with those haunted blue eyes, those wire frames as crooked as always. “Promise?” she’d said.

“I promise. I’m going to take care of you.”

His gut tightened painfully at the memory. He struggled to draw a breath.

“Cole?”

He turned to PJ. A rock had lodged in his throat. He tried to swallow it away. “She’s dead.”

PJ gasped. “Oh no.” She palmed his face. “I’m so sorry.”

He had to do something. He jumped up and paced across the porch. “I should go. I have to go help Becky.”

“Becky?”

“Our foster mom.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Music blared from the upstairs window, and he remembered the kids. A funeral would be a few days away. He couldn’t be gone that long. He squeezed the back of his neck.

“What am I thinking? I can’t leave the kids.”

“I’ll stay with them. Or go with you—whatever you want. My family can help.”

She’s gone. She’s gone, and I didn’t protect her. I promised, and I let her down.

Just like Noelle.

Just like Mom and Dad.

“Cole? You want me to ask my mom to come stay? I can close the restaurant for a few days.”

At the mention of her mom, he shook his head. “No. I’d feel better if you stayed with the kids. You can keep the restaurant open. I should go pack.”

He entered the house and went numbly up the stairs. He
didn’t know PJ had followed until he was in his bedroom, grabbing his empty duffel bag.

“You can’t go tonight. It’s late, and it’s a long drive. There’s nothing you can do till morning anyway.”

She was right. It would be after midnight by the time he arrived in Fort Wayne. He set the duffel bag on the bed and dropped beside it.

The mattress dipped as PJ sank down beside him. She put her arm around him. He felt her gaze on him. He wanted to lay his head in her lap and bawl his eyes out, but something stopped him. Something dammed up the tears and held his arms frozen to his sides.

“What can I do? Can I get you anything?”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Yeah, I promise. I’m going to take care of you.”

The backs of his eyes burned.

“You want to talk?”

He stood, needing distance and not knowing why. “No, I just—I think I need to be alone,” he squeezed out.

He didn’t look back at her, didn’t want to see the hurt he knew would be on her face.

“Are you sure? I can—I can stay with you, just hold you, if you want.”

He gave her his best shot at a smile, but it fizzled before it even started. “I’m sure. I just—I need some time.”