Gail Barrett - Where He Belongs

“A nuisance,” Mrs. McCuen said.

“You’re no such thing,” Lottie countered. She looked at Wade to explain. “I keep Mae company while Erin works. She needs a little help getting around.”

Wade’s gaze settled on Erin’s grandmother. A little help? The woman could barely drink her coffee unassisted.

He drained his own cup and rose for a refill. “So Erin teaches now?”

“History at St. Michaels Academy.”

That fit. He could see her in front of a classroom exalting the virtues of historic Millstown, though not in a private school. She’d never been a snob, despite her family’s background. Hell, she’d even been nice to him.

He snagged another doughnut and gazed out the window over the sink. Downed tree limbs poked through the ragged lawn. He thought of the sagging front porch and unease built in his gut.

“Erin’s a good teacher,” Mrs. McCuen said carefully.

“You bet she is,” Lottie agreed. “They’re darned lucky to have her. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard.”

An image of Erin rose in Wade’s mind, her green eyes lined with shadows. He slugged back his coffee and frowned. He didn’t want to think of Erin suffering. He wanted her insulated from the rough side of life—just the way he’d left her.

“My fault,” Mrs. McCuen whispered.

“It’s not your fault,” Lottie scolded. “Accidents happen. Don’t even think of blaming yourself. Besides, Wade’s here to help us now.”

“What?” He turned.

“Oh, I didn’t mean you had to do anything. Erin would never want that. But now that you’re renting that room, she can hire out some of those chores.”

Erin needed money to fix the house? Is that why Norm sent him here? Oh, hell. “I’m not staying long. A week, maybe two. It all depends on Norm.”

“Oh, I’m sure Erin realizes that.”

“I work in Montana now.”

“Yes, Norm told us about your adventures. You’re quite the hero around here.” Lottie rose to clear the table.

Hero? He mentally scoffed. He did his job like any smokejumper. And that’s exactly what he was, a smokejumper. They couldn’t seriously expect him to stay.

Not even to help Erin? The churning in his stomach grew.

He put his cup in the sink. “Look, let’s get this straight. I don’t know what Norm told you, but I’m not moving back to Millstown. I’m not even staying here long. Now, thanks for the coffee, but I’ve got to go.”

“Say hi to Norm for us,” Lottie called as he left the kitchen.

His agitation mounting, he strode to the front of the house. Once outside, he paused on the porch to zip his jacket. Bushes sprawled over the railing. Peeling paint glistened in the frosty air. He looked at the rutted driveway and the sick feeling blew into panic.

He wasn’t staying in Millstown. He couldn’t! Damn Norm anyway. Exactly what was he trying to do?

He stomped down the steps, determined to find that out.

“So, if you just rewrite the conclusion, you’ll be set.” Erin glanced at her watch and exhaled. “That’s it. And don’t forget to study the flashcards. You’ll need to know those dates for the test.” She gathered the scattered papers and notecards and passed them to the student seated across the kitchen table.

“Thanks, Ms. McCuen.” Morgan Butler scooped up the stack of papers and smiled, her braces glinting in the overhead light.

Erin rose and glanced out the dark kitchen window, then forced her gaze away. She had to stop watching for Wade. So what if he hadn’t returned by dinner—or several hours after? He didn’t have to apprise her of every move. But according to Lottie, Norm’s condition had worsened that morning, and she couldn’t help but worry.

She followed Morgan down the hall to the foyer where the girl put on her coat. As she waited, she caught the distant pulse of a Harley. Her heart paused, then thrummed with expectation. Wade was back. She hoped that meant good news.

The throaty vibrations grew louder. She turned and pressed her forehead to the window. A moment later Wade’s headlight flashed and bobbed up the drive.

“Are you tutoring somebody else tonight?” Morgan asked.

“No, it’s just my renter.” The teen picked up her papers from the hutch and joined her at the window. The bike passed the porch and the engine abruptly cut off.

Suddenly in a rush to dispatch Morgan, she hurried the girl out the door. “See you tomorrow,” she called as Morgan descended the steps. “And drive carefully.”

Wade stomped up the porch seconds later. She moved back to let him inside and closed the door against the chill.

He paused under the chandelier and her gaze flew to his eyes. His bloodshot eyes. Down to the stark lines bracketing his mouth and the haggard cast to his features.

Her stomach swooped. “Oh, no. Did Norm—?”

“Yeah.” He turned and limped to the stairs. He climbed slowly, stiffly, his boots heavy on the creaking steps. At the landing, he crossed to the bedroom and slammed the door.

A deep ache lodged in her chest. Dear Norm. He’d been the nicest man. He’d adopted a boy no one had wanted. He’d used his savings to pay her grandmother’s bills. He’d dedicated his life to helping their tiny town. Why did someone that kind have to die?

Her eyes burned, but she willed back the hot rush of tears. Her grandmother had gone to bed early, so she’d tell her the news in the morning. But she should call Lottie—and Max to see if he needed help. And bake a coffee cake for the neighbors who’d gather at the duplex tomorrow.

But more importantly, she had to help Wade. Her gaze traveled up the stairs. Norm meant everything to him. How on earth would he cope?

She walked across the foyer to the staircase, then paused with her hand on the newel post. Wade hadn’t asked for her sympathy. He hadn’t even lingered to talk. He’d gone straight to his room and shut the door, isolating himself, just as he had as a kid.

Maybe she should give him some space. He obviously wanted his privacy, and he really was none of her business. But how could she leave him alone at a time like this?

And that was exactly how he’d feel right now—alone. He’d just lost his entire family. The one person in the world who cared.

Or so he thought. She cared, and always had. Enough to go to him now, even if he only rebuffed her.

Her feet heavy, she climbed the stairs. He didn’t answer her knock, which didn’t really surprise her. She tapped again, waited, then cautiously inched open the door. “Wade?”

Light spilled from the hallway into the darkened room. He stood with his arms crossed, facing the window, staring out at the night. He looked vulnerable standing there alone. Lonely. Desolation wedged hard in her throat.

He didn’t glance at her as she crossed the room or when she placed her hand on his arm. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence. But neither did he pull away.

Relieved, she hitched out her breath, then stood beside him in the darkness. She inhaled the scent of his leather jacket, along with a faint trace of whiskey. Her heart twisted. How typical of Wade to exile himself to a bar and deal with his pain alone. He never did believe anyone cared.

But Norm had cared, and Wade needed to remember that. “You know he thought of you as his son,” she said.

He tensed, but she kept her hand on his arm. “He saved every letter you wrote. He read them to us all the time—at the café, the grocery store, whenever we stopped by the house… We heard about your years on the hotshot crews, your rookie training. And when you made smokejumper, I’d never seen anyone so proud.”

She smiled at the memory. “He carried around a photo of you in your jump gear. He showed it to us dozens of times. It got so worn out you could hardly tell who it was anymore, but his face still lit up when he pulled it out.”