Mia Ross - Finding His Way Home

“I’ve got fresh snickerdoodles and lemonade,” she said finally. “If you want some.”

His favorite childhood snack. He couldn’t imagine how she’d known to make it. Then it hit him, and he turned to Jenna. “You called her?”

“When you were hunting for those quilts,” she confirmed with a poorly concealed grin.

So, the sunny artist had a devious side, he mused as he opened Jenna’s door and walked up the front steps with her. Who knew? When he reached the porch, he saw tears welling in Gram’s eyes and stopped dead. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just so happy to see you. It’s been such a long time.”

She opened her arms wide, and the last bit of his misgivings evaporated as he went into that warm embrace. He’d dreamed of it so many times, he’d begun to believe the recurring image was simply the result of being homesick. But now, standing there with her, knowing she forgave him for the mistakes he’d made, he actually could believe that somehow, someday everything would be all right.

Chapter Four

Inside the Barrett house, things were right and wrong at the same time.

Jenna hadn’t been here since Will’s funeral, and it still struck her as odd that the dining room had gone back to its normal configuration. During the final months of his illness, Will’s hospital bed had dominated a corner of the large room, leaving space for the visitors Olivia coerced into dropping by so she and her husband wouldn’t feel so isolated. Its absence only reinforced the fact that Jenna never again would see the kind old man who’d found so much joy in a simple landscape she’d painted for him.

“So nice to have company during the week,” Olivia said, motioning for them to sit at the kitchen table. Donning a set of oven mitts shaped like sunflowers, she pulled a scrumptious tray of cookies from the oven in a cloud of cinnamon-sugary aroma. “Ever since Jenna called, I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how you two could possibly have met. It must be an interesting story.”

After pouring three glasses of lemonade, she set the plate of cookies down and joined them with an expectant look. Jenna waited for Scott to answer her, but he was too busy shoving cookies into his mouth. Deciding it was up to her, she said, “I went out to the cemetery to plant flowers for Will, and Scott was there. So I drafted him to help me out. It turns out he’s pretty good with a shovel.”

“And she’s pretty good at giving orders,” he piped up with a chuckle. “Worked out fine.”

Olivia turned an adoring look on him and patted his hand. “It can’t have been easy for you, but I know your grandfather was pleased to see you. Thank you for taking the time to go out there and be with him awhile.”

Misery swept across Scott’s face, and he fixed her with a pleading look. “I wanted to visit sooner, Gram. I just couldn’t.”

“Have you been avoiding the cemetery,” she asked gently, “or me?”

That tortured expression was back, only much worse than she’d seen on his face earlier. Jenna felt awkward being included in such a private moment, but she feared moving would distract him from forcing the guilt he felt out into the open. That was the first step in overcoming it, she knew, and instinct told her his compassionate but very pragmatic grandmother was the one to nudge him in the right direction.

“Both,” he confided in a hoarse whisper. After swallowing some lemonade, he rested his hand over hers. “I’ll always be sorry for that.”

“Oh, I hope not,” she told him briskly. “Such a waste of time, reliving the past over and over.” Dark eyes twinkling with her characteristic optimism, she punctuated her little lesson with a fond smile. “Those times are done and gone, and now that you’re home, there are plenty more good ones to come. You’ll see.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

It took him a few seconds, but he returned the smile, and Jenna got a glimpse of what this cool, distant man must have looked like years ago, before the consequences of his bad choices had all but shut him down. She sensed there was more to it than mere happiness, and she mulled that over while the three of them chatted about the latest goings-on around town. When she finally identified what had changed Scott’s mood, she couldn’t help smiling.

It was trust. So he was capable of it, after all, she mused with genuine interest. Prison hadn’t destroyed it, just sent it into hiding. Which, considering what he must have been through, was totally understandable. Knowing he still had the ability to believe in someone made Jenna want to find a way to make him trust her, too. She wasn’t sure why his opinion of her mattered so much, but in situations like this she always listened to her intuition. Even if what it was telling her didn’t make sense at the time, in the long run it was usually right.

“Here we are, rattling along, when we’ve got a guest at the table,” Olivia said, bringing Jenna back into the conversation. “How are things at your studio?”

No one wanted to hear her life was chaotic and she was way behind on her deadlines, so she smiled and gave her usual chipper response. “Just fine. Diane stopped in this morning and asked me to drop by the teen center later this week to talk to one of the new girls about art.”

“Gretchen,” Olivia commented with a nod. “Such a heartbreaking story with her and her father struggling the way they are. You’re just the kind of role model she needs.”

“I don’t think I’d be anyone’s choice as a mentor,” Jenna protested with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Diane just wants me to tell Gretchen how talented she is, encourage her to keep practicing, that kind of thing.”

“Like that munchkin art professor did for you,” Scott suggested.

“In slightly less colorful language,” she clarified with a nostalgic smile. “Miss Fontaine was—what’s the word?”

“Nutty?” he asked in a helpful tone.

“Eccentric. Most creative people are.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Olivia confirmed with a nod. “My old friend Annabelle, God rest her, sang like an angel and could play a dozen different instruments. She also talked to the coatrack in her foyer like it was a real person and couldn’t remember what she was doing from one minute to the next. She was a gifted musician but madder than a hatter.”

They all laughed at that, and Scott polished off the rest of his drink before standing. “I hate to leave, Gram, but I have to drop Jenna off at the cemetery so she can pick up her van. After that, I really should get back to the house. If I don’t finish covering the holes in the chapel roof, that storm they’re talking about is gonna wreck all the new wood I put up inside.”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me for being busy. I’ve got things to do, too,” she assured him as she stood and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. All her grandsons towered over her, but Jenna thought it was adorable the way Olivia still gave them a quick peck whenever they were headed out. “If you’re interested, I’m making pot roast Friday night.”

Grinning, he cocked his head like a half-starved hound who’d just gotten wind of a free meal. “For me?”

“Well, it’s not for me,” she teased, then turned to Jenna with a critical look. “I noticed you’ve been losing weight again, dear. I think you’d better come, too, and have something that didn’t come out of a microwave. There will be plenty of food, so you two can split the leftovers.”

Scott eyed her warily. “You’re not trying to set us up, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided him. “I’ve invited everyone who’s got the night free, so there will be lots of other folks here.”

“You’re having a family shindig now?” he asked. “How come?”