Where She Belongs (24 page)

While eating a bowl of stale Cheerios at the kitchen counter, Brett read everything he could find online about Jonah's accident. Next, he internet-stalked Travis McCurry, even paying a public records site to gain information about his employment history. And his arrest record.

This wasn't the first time the creep had been charged with a DUI.

What was a girl like Meghan doing with a guy like that?

Brett scanned the next document, then reopened a news site about the accident. It had occurred on Meghan's second wedding anniversary. At least, what would have been their anniversary if not for the divorce that had been finalized two months ago.

But those details didn't answer the question that was eating Brett up inside. Why was Jonah in the car with McCurry?

He ran Meghan through the same public records search firm but didn't find much. After leaving college, she'd somehow managed to stay under Big Brother's radar until her current residential address in Brennan Grove, Michigan, popped up. She'd moved there shortly before marrying McCurry. A few months ago, he had moved out.

Brett set aside the iPad, then rinsed out the cereal bowl and stuck it in the dishwasher. He picked up a glass dessert bowl near the sink and started to rinse it too when he realized it held a ring. Sparkling diamonds surrounded a finely cut amethyst set in a white gold band.

Tracie's birthstone. The only thing about her that wasn't artificial.

The ring clinked as he dropped it back into the bowl, then he placed the bowl in a cupboard. No need to risk losing the ring down the drain before he decided what to do with it. Tracie had
probably left it on purpose as a ploy to force another face-to-face between them. But that wasn't happening.

After wandering to his bedroom, he opened the top drawer of a mahogany highboy and removed an ebony box. Inside were a few odds and ends—his father's cufflinks, an old-fashioned diamond tie clip, a few foreign coins. And a jeweler's box he'd found hidden in Sully's office safe after his death.

He lifted the lid, and the solitaire diamond, elegantly set in a white gold band, sparkled brightly as if all its fire were suddenly freed from the box's confines.

When he'd asked Richard about the ring, the old man's cryptic explanation was that Sully bought the ring for the woman he loved, but she'd died to him. Those had been Richard's exact words. “She died to him.” But he wouldn't say any more.

So Sully had loved someone before he loved Gran. If he'd ever loved Gran at all.

Brett rotated the ring beneath the soft light of a table lamp, entranced by the crisp lines of color sparkling from the finely cut diamond. Was it a symbol of deep, eternal love? Or of love spurned?

Unless Richard divulged the secret, he'd probably never know.

For too many years, Brett had discarded one luscious blonde for another, knowing from the first kiss she wouldn't claim his heart. A long line of Tracie clones.

After all, that was the point. To be the heartbreaker, not the heartbroken.

He put the ring in the box and snapped the lid, dousing the brilliant fire of a love longed for and never found.

The story of his life.

S
helby opened the closet door beneath the hallway stairs and snapped on the light. “It's through here. In the back.”

She removed about a third of the clothes hanging from the rod, opened the opposite door, and laid them across her bed.

“Let me help.” AJ removed the remaining hangers.

“One nice thing about moving upstairs is that I'll have more closet space.” If she moved upstairs. That stage of her renovation project might never happen.

“I know what you're thinking.”

“It's hard not to think about it. I had such plans.”

“Don't give up before we've even started the fight.”

He was trying so hard to reassure her, and she loved him for it. But some dreams weren't meant to come true.

She smiled gamely and squeezed past him into the closet. With both the doors opened, it formed a passageway from the study, currently being used as her bedroom, and the main hallway.

Kneeling, she crawled toward the back where the ceiling sloped from the stairs. Examining the floorboards with her fingers, she found the notch and lifted the trapdoor. Behind her, AJ held it up while she hooked a latch attached to the sloping ceiling to a metal eye imbedded in the door.

“Will that hold it?”

“Should. Grandpa got stuck down there once when he was a kid, so his dad added the latch.”

“Wonder what they did before then.”

“They were careful.”

“Guess they had to be.”

“Are you ready?”

In the dim light, his dark eyes shone with adventure. “Shouldn't I go first?”

“I know where the light is. Just pray it still works.” Shelby lowered herself through the opening, her feet seeking a toehold in the ladder built into the wall of the underground room. About halfway down, she reached to the side for the light switch and twisted the old-fashioned fixture. A solitary ceiling bulb flickered then glowed, lighting the dank interior.

She dropped to the floor and scanned the space while waiting for AJ to descend the ladder. The room, its walls lined with brick, hid below the closet and the study. Spiderwebs draped across wooden bunks forming an
L
against two walls, and a rickety table stood beneath the bare lightbulb. Plywood covered most of the dirt floor.

“This is how it was? Before emancipation?”

“It might have been a little more comfortable,” she said, amused by the awe in his voice. “You know, mattresses covered with ticking. Quilts. Food and water.”

“Do you have any idea how many runaways stayed here?”

“Dozens. Perhaps hundreds.” She rubbed her arms, slightly chilled. “I don't know if they kept records.”

“Probably too dangerous.”

“According to Grandpa's stories, not everyone around here was sympathetic to the cause, at least not until the war started. Then folks jumped on the bandwagon, at least for a while. As the war dragged on, though, resentment seemed to build. That's why Eliza hid Jeb in the cabin.”

“A Confederate in Union territory,” AJ mused aloud. “They
probably had kin fighting those upstart Johnny Rebs.” He said it pompously, as if imitating a staunch Unionist.

Shelby chuckled at him, then grew serious. “They did. But so did Eliza. Her brother almost died in Andersonville.”

“But that didn't stop her from loving her enemy.”

His eyes revealed the deeper meaning behind his words. But he wasn't her enemy anymore. In the past few days, he'd become something so much more.

Which was only making it harder to listen for God's still, small voice.

Pausing outside Jonah's door, Brett took a deep breath to compose himself. Coming to the hospital this late was insane. But at least AJ wouldn't be there, basking in his new role of wannabe dad.

He'd usurped Brett's place at the boy's side long enough. Just as Brett had done with Meghan all those years ago.

She should have told him the truth then.

Stepping away from the door, he stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the opposite wall. He couldn't barge in there slinging accusations, not if he was going to get any answers.

Maybe he should forget the whole thing, go home, and get some sleep. Or better yet, get drunk.

Great idea, 'cause he really wanted to be another Travis McCurry.

“God, help me,” he murmured, staring at the ceiling as he admitted it was more of a prayer than he'd intended.

He didn't think it likely, but perhaps Meghan believed AJ was the boy's father. And even if she didn't, any woman given the choice between AJ and Brett in such dire circumstances would choose a sympathetic shoulder over arrogance.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't blame her for naming AJ as the father of her unborn child. Or her naiveté in believing his cousin could solve all her problems. She hadn't reckoned on Sully's
ferocious response when the future he'd planned for his favorite grandson was threatened by a nobody from nowhere.

Did she even know what it had cost AJ when he later stood up to Sully? By then it'd been too late for AJ to help Meghan—he couldn't even find her—but Sully refused to forgive him for trying. The grudge benefited Brett, but he'd paid a price too.

He'd fooled himself into believing he could have any woman he wanted, but if that were true, he'd have a woman worth keeping.

His life was in a downward spiral, and Amy's was too. If something didn't change, they'd both be lost.

The door to Jonah's room opened, and Meghan stepped into the hallway. Loose strands of her blonde hair, tied in an awkward ponytail, feathered her temples. Her gray eyes widened, and her complexion paled. “Brett.” She stepped back against the closed door.

He straightened but gave her space. “Hi, Meghan.”

The cute college co-ed had matured into a beautiful woman, but the weary slump of her shoulders and the dark circles around her large eyes reminded him of Cossette on the classic
Les Misérables
posters.

Her vulnerability tugged at his heart, ripping the scab from a wound he'd denied for years.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice quivered.

Fear or anger, he couldn't tell which.

“I came to see you.” He gestured toward the room. “To see . . .” He cleared his throat. “To see him.”

“Him?” She huffed and shook her head in disgust. “He has a name.”

“Jonah. I came to see Jonah.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“You can't keep him from me forever.”

“Can't I?”

Searching her eyes, he tried to find the truth in their gray depths. But her hardened expression told him nothing.

He nodded at the wallet she carried. “Going somewhere?”

“Vending machines.”

“How about we go down to the cafeteria?”

“I can't.”

“Okay. The vending machines it is.”

“I don't recall inviting you along.”

“Then I'll stay here.” With two long strides, he was beside her, his hand pressed against the door. “Wait for you to get back.”

She stared at him, as if weighing his unspoken threat.

“This way.”

At the end of the hall, a few vending machines occupied an alcove in a small waiting area. Brett pulled cash out of his billfold. “Allow me.”

“Money's always the solution, isn't it?”

“Just being a gentleman.”

“Is that what you call it?”

He bit his lip and slid a couple of ones in a machine containing beverages and a couple more in one with chips and candy. “Take your pick.”

She punched buttons for bottled water and pretzels. Brett gathered his change and bought another water and M&M's.

Meghan led the way to a table next to a window. City lights competed with the few stars pinpointing the night sky. Brett sat across from her and opened the water bottles.

“How are you, Meghan?”

“How do you think?”

“You look tired.”

“That's probably because I don't sleep much.”

“Do you have to stay here?”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “Where else would I stay?”

He squirmed. “I don't know. A hotel?”

“Right.” She pressed her lips together and rotated the bottle cap between her fingers.

“If it's a question of money . . .” He held out his hands, palms
up, before the retort spitting from her eyes came out of her mouth. “I'm just trying to help you out here.”

“AJ offered his grandmother's house.”

If she'd meant to wound him by the comparison, she'd succeeded. “Did he tell you she died a few weeks ago?”

Her eyes flickered with regret, but she said nothing.

“Why didn't you take him up on it?”

She stared at the table, her body tense and withdrawn. “I can't leave Jonah here alone.”

“How is he?”

“About the same.”

“I don't know what that means.”

“It means he just lies there. He doesn't move. He doesn't blink. He doesn't do anything.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“To give him time.”

“That sounds hopeful.”

“Yeah.” She took another sip of water then suddenly stood. “I'm full of hope.” Grabbing her pretzels, she left the room.

“Where are you going?” Catching up to her, he grabbed her elbow and forced her to face him. “I know the truth.”

She twisted, but he didn't let go.

“What truth?”

“You know what truth.” He released her arm, and she rubbed her elbow. “You may want AJ to be Jonah's dad, but you and I both know he's not.”

Tears darkened Meghan's eyes and moistened her cheeks. “I knew this would happen. It's what I've been dreading ever since AJ showed up in Toledo.”

Tenderness melted his irritation. “Why didn't you call me?”

“And say what?”

“You could have just told me.”

“Could I, Brett?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came. How could he expect
her to notify him about his son's accident when he didn't even know the boy existed? A lump lodged in his throat.

“Let me see him. Please.”

Her expression crumpled, and she swiped at her cheeks with both hands. “It's too late.”

“Too late tonight, or too late ever?”

“Both.”

He sighed deeply and passed his hand over his eyes. Maybe it was time to take another tack. “When are you going to tell AJ?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You haven't?”

“Not yet.”

Wrapping her arms around herself as if in defeat, she leaned against the wall. “I should have told him when he showed up.” Biting her lip, she shook her head then gazed steadily into Brett's eyes. “I rarely talked about Jonah's father. Only to Travis and my friend Dawn. But I told them the same lie I told AJ. So when he showed up at Dawn's gallery, she believed . . .” Her voice caught, and she took a deep breath. “He just assumed, and I didn't correct him. Then he arranged all this, and it was too late.”

“I'll explain,” Brett offered. “He'll understand.”
I hope.

“He never knew we . . . that you and I . . .” Her cheeks flushed, and she buried her face in her hands. “I've told so many lies.”

“Then it's time to tell the truth. AJ deserves that.” Hating himself for it, he played the trump card. “So does Jonah. He should know his real dad.”