Welcome to Bluestone 1 - Bluestone homecoming (3 page)

“Just don’t make him count on you too much,
and then leave.”

Ouch. He straightened and rubbed his hand
over his chest. “I’m going to do what’s best for Max.” If only he
could figure out what that was.

***

After Leo picked up Max—on time, because this
time he walked instead of worrying about parking—he led the boy
down to the lake instead of back up the hill to the house.

“Where are we going?” Max asked
suspiciously.

“Down to the lake.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a beautiful day. And I want to
see the town.”

“You could have done that when I was at
school.”

“Why? You got another favorite show you want
to see?” Leo realized as soon as he said it that he sounded
judgmental.

Max didn’t answer, and hung back a little bit
as they walked down the path to the lake. For a minute, Leo
wondered if the boy was afraid of the water, but no. He went
fishing with the old man. So it must be Leo he didn’t want anything
to do with.

All day he’d tried to think of topics of
conversation but they all seemed flat now.

“I used to come down here a lot when I was a
kid.”

“Grandpa said you hated it here.”

“Yeah, well, I—”
Was transplanted in this
tiny town against my will. Angry that I left my friends behind.
Pissed that my life had changed
. Oh, hell. “I was a pissed-off
teenager. Gave my parents a bad time.” Then he was inspired. “I
started playing baseball and it helped me make friends and feel
more a part of the place.”

“I hate sports.”

Leo’s step faltered. “All sports?”

Max shrugged. “I’m not good at any of
them.”

“Sure you are. You just have to find the
right fit. I tried track and football and basketball before I
learned baseball was the right one for me. Man, I sucked at
basketball.” He gave a little chuckle at how terrible he’d been at
the fast-paced game. He’d liked baseball because it gave him time
to consider his next move.

He preferred stories like that, too, which is
why he wrote features most of the time now. He could let things
percolate.

“Grandma said that’s a bad word,” Max
reminded him.

For a moment, Leo was lost, replaying what
he’d said to prompt that comment. Right.
Sucked
. “Forgot.
Sorry.”

They’d reached the edge of the lake, where
the water lapped against the dark rocky beach. Leo had forgotten
how beautiful the place was, blue water stretched as far as the eye
could see, the lake rimmed with tall trees, some lake houses
peeking through the foliage. Boats dotted the lake even at this
time of day. To their right was a low wooden building, Prater’s
Landing. Behind that, rows of fishing and pleasure boats were
moored, occasionally knocking against the dock when waves from a
passing boat stirred them. Leo could see his dad’s boat from
here.

“Let’s go look at Grandpa’s boat.” He urged
his son in that direction. Maybe if he let the kid talk about
something he was interested in, the boy would be more willing to
listen to Leo.

But when they reached the motor boat, which
was in pretty good shape after fifteen years, Max didn’t offer
anything.

“So what do you fish for?” Leo asked. Finding
topics of conversation was becoming exhausting, but he was a
reporter, damn it. He could get anyone to talk.

“I don’t know. Grandpa said it’s not really
good fishing weather yet, but we go out anyway.”

“Man time, huh?”

Max’s eyes widened. “That’s what he calls
it.”

“That’s what he called it when I was a
kid.”

“I feel sorry for Grandma, though. We leave
her alone all day.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mind too much. She used
to read a book when we’d go. Does she still do that?”

Max shrugged, dragging his toe along a beam
of the dock.

Leo looked from his son to the water. Maybe
playing around would loosen the boy up. “Hey, I may have found your
sport.”

Max scowled up at him. “What’s that?”

Leo scooped the boy up in his arms—damn, the
kid was heavier than he expected—and swung him out over the water.
“Swimming!”

Max twisted in Leo’s arms, clutching at his
shirt, and terrified screams carried over the water. Startled, Leo
looked into his son’s frightened face. Instinctively, he tightened
his arms around the boy, holding him against his chest, feeling his
heart hammering. Jesus.

“I’m sorry, Max. I was just playing around,”
he said into the boy’s ear.

Max clutched him a moment longer—and it was
wrong for Leo to savor that dependence—before he wriggled free.
Once Leo set him on his feet, Max stomped toward shore.

***

Dinner was a tense affair. His mother had
looked questioningly from Max to Leo when Max had marched in, frown
set. He’d gone to the kitchen counter and pulled out his homework,
but when Leo tried to approach, Max shot him a look that had Leo
stepping back.

Dinner was tense, Max barely saying a word,
answering his grandparents’ questions monosyllabically.

Finally the ordeal was over and his mother
rose from the table.

“Max, you’re staying here with Grandpa this
evening. Leo, you’re taking me to the town hall meeting.”

Leo snapped his head up. “Me? Why me?” He
hadn’t been to one since he was a cub reporter and required to
report on them.

“Because your father hates these things, and
what’s the point in having a strapping son if I can’t show him off
at the town hall meeting?” She offered the first smile he’d seen
since he’d returned home. So she was stressed, too.

“But—” He looked from his mother to Max.

“You’ll be home in time to tuck him in. Give
me a moment to fix my hair and put on my face and we’ll go.”

Leo looked helplessly at Max, who didn’t
return his gaze. Maybe it would be good to get away, to think about
something other than what a failure he was as a father.

***

“So what happened between you today?” his
mother asked as they walked down the street into town.

Leo told her of his poor choice of horseplay
as an icebreaker. “Is he afraid of the water? I didn’t think he was
since he goes out on the boat with Dad.”

She sighed. “Leo, he’s afraid of everything
right now. That’s why we keep him home in the evenings, make him
feel secure with the routine. He’ll come out of it.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” Perhaps he could
talk to the counselor at school about where he could take Max for
therapy. That wasn’t his first wish, but Max’s screams still ran
along Leo’s nerves. The boy needed help getting past his mother’s
death. Leo had been wrong thinking Max could pull through on his
own.

Wrong again, that was.

Leo hadn’t been in the town hall before, but
hadn’t had a need when he was a teen. He’d never thought a meeting
would be so well-attended. He and his mother followed other
citizens to the building, pausing in the logjam at the door. His
mother took his arm and guided him out of the crush toward a man
who stood in the yard, surrounded by several older women.

“Reverend David, I want you to meet my son
Leo.”

The man wasn’t much older than Leo, tall,
thin, blond. He greeted Leo with a polite smile that made Leo
wonder if he was judging Leo’s parenting decisions as well. If he
wasn’t, he was the only one.

“How long are you in town?” the reverend
asked.

Bingo. “Undetermined.”

“Your son is a remarkable child. Energetic,
but a pleasure to be around.”

Leo faltered. What kid was the reverend
talking about? He hadn’t seen any sign of energy or a pleasant
child. But if the reverend could lie, so could he. “I’m very proud
of him.”

Past Reverend David’s shoulder, he saw the
blonde counselor from the school, Trinity Madison, approach and
felt his face heat. He hadn’t allowed himself to think too much
about her earlier—his head had been filled with worry about Max.
And he wasn’t accustomed to thinking about women lately. Her
wholesome face—she even had freckles across the bridge of her
nose—was pink with pleasure, her white teeth even, her golden
blonde hair floating about her shoulders. She wore jeans and a
sweater that showed off a nice figure, one that if he was thinking
about women, would have him thinking twice about her.

Her steps slowed when she met his gaze, and a
furrow of uncertainty appeared between her brows. Huh. She was
heading for David. Leo looked from one to the other, and the
resemblance struck him. Trinity seemed to shake off her indecision
and came forward. She placed a hand on the reverend’s shoulder and
used it as leverage to pull herself up to kiss his cheek.

“My sister, Trinity,” Reverend David
introduced, an affectionate hand looped around her waist. “This is
Nora’s son Leo.”

“Max’s dad,” she said with a warm smile that
surprised him, based on their first meeting.

“You’ve met,” David said, arching his head to
look at his sister.

“At school,” Leo said.

Trinity gave him a canted, curious smile.
Wondering what he was doing here, no doubt. He wondered, too.

“Leo!”

He turned to see a woman running toward him,
long hair streaming behind her, a familiar grin on her face as she
launched herself into his arms. He grabbed onto her hips in
self-defense, bracing his feet before they both tumbled backwards.
Once he’d steadied them, he tightened his embrace, turning his face
into her hair that had always smelled of the wind.

“I didn’t know you were coming home.” Lily
Prater eased back to look at him, her hands still on his shoulders,
her gaze darting over his face. “You look good. God, Leo, how long
has it been?”

“You look good, too.” Still holding onto her
hips, he took in her smooth complexion, tinted with sun already,
though it was only March. Her body beneath his hands was firm and
trim. And her brown eyes sparked with something he thought he
recognized but couldn’t name. “How are you? What are you up to
these days?”

“Oh, you know. Family business.” She waved a
hand in the direction of the lake, where her family owned the
landing where his father kept his boat. “Running it now that Dad’s
retired.”

He nodded solemnly. She’d always loved this
town, had never wanted to leave, while he couldn’t wait for
graduation and freedom. Now that he was an adult and his escape was
assured, he could see the charm, but that didn’t mean he wanted to
stay. “I was down there earlier. You’ve added some launches and
some cabins, I see.”

She pressed her lips together. “Seemed wise
at the time. We were getting a lot of tourists from the city. Now,
with the recession, not so much.”

A dark-haired man stepped forward and took
Lily’s arm, seemingly forgetting that Leo’s arms were still around
her. “We should go in and get a seat.”

Leo let his hands fall to his sides as he
turned to the other man, who was all intensity, his attention on
Lily. He glanced at Lily, eyebrow raised, but she only gave him a
sheepish smile and turned to the dark-haired man. “Quinn Alden,
this is Leo Erickson. We went to high school together, though
clearly Leo is older than I am.”

Quinn’s mouth twisted into what he might have
thought was a socially acceptable greeting, and held out a hand to
give Leo a brisk handshake. Yeah, intensity, this guy had it. What
he was doing with sunny Lily, Leo had no idea. But he clearly
wanted her to himself.

Lily was having none of that. She kept her
arm hooked through Leo’s as they walked toward the town hall. “Come
sit with us. We need to catch up.”

“Not during the meeting,” Quinn grumbled.
“And there might not be three seats in a row.”

“Always half full, is Quinn,” Lily said, not
to be deterred as the three of them pressed through the crowd
trying to get in the door.

Leo glanced over his shoulder but didn’t see
his mother. He did, however, meet the shuttered gaze of Trinity
Madison.

“So why the big turnout for the meeting?” Leo
asked. “I don’t remember it being such an event before.”

“Your mother didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Lily tucked her long hair behind her ear, and
her expression dimmed a few degrees. “Bluestone’s been hit pretty
hard by the economic downturn. Jill barely rented out half her
cabins last summer, and I only rented out a third of the ice
fishing cabins. Quinn’s been trying to sell his bar for a year, no
nibbles. People just don’t have the money to come up here, or
they’re working two jobs, or staying closer to home. So we’re
trying to come up with some ways to get them to visit. Maybe you
have some ideas.”

He frowned. “You think that I, who couldn’t
get out of this town fast enough, will have ideas to lure people
here?”

Her mouth twisted in a pout. “It’s not really
the ends of the earth, like the two of you seem to think it is.
It’s a lovely place that’s not too expensive, where people can get
away for a weekend without too much trouble.”

“I suppose you tried that line of
advertising,” Leo teased, surprising himself. He couldn’t remember
the last time he’d teased someone. Successfully, that was.

“We’re trying to broaden the appeal,” she
said, ignoring him. “So far Bluestone is mostly known by sportsmen.
But if we appeal to families, maybe we can revitalize.”

He appreciated that, and hell, if he didn’t
think Bluestone was a nice little community, he wouldn’t have sent
his son to live here. “It’s not going to be easy. Something like
that takes years.”

“Maybe you could come up with a quick fix.
You were always the smart one.” She gave his arm a squeeze.

Despite Quinn’s prediction, they were able to
find three folding chairs together, two rows behind Leo’s mom and a
woman who’d been her friend forever, Brenda Filbert. Again he
wondered why his mother dragged him here, then sat somewhere else.
She’d only introduced him to the reverend.