Liz Flaherty - Nice To Come Home To

His gaze went to the round barn, then flicked back to her. He took off his baseball cap, pushed back his thick brown hair and put the cap back on. “Based on what?”

“What?” She frowned. What was he talking about?

“Yes, what? What makes you believe that?”

“My mother told me, although what she said turned out to be not exactly true. But the year in high school when I lived here, Zoey didn’t want me to come even though I didn’t have anywhere else to go. And I hardly ever saw her when I was here.” That still stung. Her aunt had been her favorite person in all the world. Finding out the feeling wasn’t mutual had hurt.

“Even if that’s true—and I know Zoey well enough to think there’s more to the story than you’ve been told—would you seriously hold that kind of grudge for, what, twenty years?”

“It’s not a grudge,” she protested. “I love Aunt Zoey. Having her come out to California when Mother was ill and again when she died was what got me through those days.” She hesitated. Talking about her personal life wasn’t something she did, especially with stomach-clenchingly handsome men she hardly knew. “I had divorced parents and numerous stepparents whose revolving-door comings and goings made me relationship shy. My father and some of those stepparents were military—not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it makes for a complicated lifestyle. Add my own shockingly bad choices to the mix and you have someone who stays inside a shell because it’s comfortable there.”

“I’m sure it is.” He touched her arm, leading her away from customer traffic. “Did you like it here? In high school, I mean.”

“Like it?” She shook her head. “I loved every minute, I think.” She frowned. “Did you live here then? I don’t remember you, but I wasn’t here that long.”

“No. My folks transferred here from Pennsylvania long after I got out of high school. Dad worked in Kokomo, but they lived in Sawyer. I liked it so well that when life dictated a change, I got a job as close as I could and bought a fixer-upper on the lake. About the time I got the kitchen paid for, the company I worked for closed. I’ll go back to real work one of these days, but for the time being, I’m enjoying the orchard and the lake.” He stopped. “I just told you my entire life story in what I’m sure was less than a hundred words. Are you impressed so far?”

She laughed, the sound coming easily. “You know, I am.”

“Impressed enough to come to Zoey’s with me? If it doesn’t work out and you have to spend an hour making polite noises, will it really hurt anything?”

Images of her last conversation with her father, facing Tony in court the day their divorce was final and watching cancer claim her mother made a painful collage in her mind. So many things that couldn’t be unsaid or undone. Maybe, just maybe, the fissure with Aunt Zoey could be healed. “No. It won’t hurt a thing. I’ll be glad to go with you.”

“You up for a walk?”

She was. She fell into step beside him to go down a grass-divided lane to the big house that sat watch over the orchard. “I’d forgotten that everyone walks at the lake. Or rides bikes or golf carts.”

“Or all three. Where did you live in California? Not where, exactly, but how? Were you in a house or an apartment?”

“When I was married, we lived in a house in Chula Vista, but when I got divorced, I moved up to an apartment in Sacramento. My mother and Royce and her mother all lived there.” She swallowed, pushing her hair out of her face when a gust of wind tunneled down the lane. “I was sick, and even though I could take care of myself most of the time, I didn’t want to be alone. Then Mother got pancreatic cancer, and I helped take care of her.” She took a deep breath and then another, trying to remember the things she’d learned in yoga class. “I sound pathetic,” she said apologetically, “and I’m not at all.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

The house came into full view when the lane meandered around a wooded curve, and Cass stopped, unable to keep in the soft “Oh” that passed her lips. The big Queen Anne farmhouse, still painted dark blue and trimmed in cream, hadn’t changed so much as a board since her summer visits here. White picket fence still surrounded the lawn. Lacy iron furniture, painted the same cream as the house’s trim, sat under the maple trees. Although the garage doors were new, they were still carriage-house style.

It was the safest place she’d ever known.

“It’s still beautiful,” she whispered.

“It is.”

“There used to be a swing on one of the trees in the backyard. I spent hours out there, watching the apple trees and catching a glimpse of the creek that was the property line.”

“It’s still there. Well, not the same swing, but one on the same tree, with the rope wrapped around the same limb.”

“Aunt Zoey spent so much time with me then. She was the best aunt ever. I must have driven her nuts.”

“That’s not the way she tells it.”

He had to be wrong. Surely he was wrong. Her mother would have told her, wouldn’t she, if Aunt Zoey had wanted to see her again? Marynell had been...difficult, but not possessive. She’d been relieved when Cass spent more time at friends’ homes than she did theirs. Even when Cass’s father hadn’t wanted to take advantage of his court-ordered visitation, Marynell had forced the issue. That alone had accounted for most of her summertime visits to Miniagua.

Luke didn’t wait for her to say more, just led the way up the front porch steps and around the side of the house to the kitchen door. “Zoey?” he called through the screen. “I brought you company for lunch.”

The sound of quick footsteps preceded Zoey to the door, and there she was, unchanged from how she’d looked when Marynell died. Almost unchanged from those long-ago summers. Her hair was white now instead of the light brown it had been, but she still wore it short and parted on the side so that it lay in a sleek curve over her ear. Makeup brought out the deep blue of her eyes. She was as tall as Cass and nearly as slender. She wore jeans and a floaty top, and her smile of welcome was wide and tremulous.

Cass’s heart thumped so hard she thought it was probably visible from where her aunt stood on the other side of the old-fashioned screen door. “Aunt Zoey.”

Zoey drew in an unsteady breath. “Cassiopeia.”

“Really?” said Luke. “You don’t look like a Cassiopeia.”

Cass spared him a glance. “No, but it’s who I always wished I was.” Her name was simply Cass. No Cassiopeia. No Cassandra. No middle name. She didn’t mind it now—she’d given herself Cassandra as a present when she’d chosen her writing name—but she’d hated it as a child, feeling that her parents hadn’t even cared enough to give her a whole name.

“It’s who you are to me.” Zoey pushed open the door. “Welcome home.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“SHE IS SO PRETTY.” Seth stared out over the windshield of Luke’s boat as they cruised Lake Miniagua after helping Father Doherty and Chris Granger trim the hedges at St. Paul’s.

“She sure is,” Luke murmured, lifting his arm to wave at Tucker Llewellyn as the big pontoon boat he and Jack owned glided past.

“That’s just sick.” Seth sounded disgusted.

“What’s sick?”

“What are you doing looking at a sixteen-year-old girl? You could be her dad.”

“Who’s talking about a sixteen-year-old girl?”

“We are.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” said Luke mildly. “Who are you talking about?”

“Royce Gentry.”

“Oh.” She was a beautiful girl. Prettier than her older sister, but not as striking. She worked hard, too, laughing at herself as the new kid, and falling into easy camaraderie with the others. She’d arrived her second day at work with enough lunch for Mary and herself and doughnuts from the Amish bakery that she shared with everyone.