A Place for Family Read online

  Her solid night’s sleep had left her with a little more bounce, and she trotted downstairs to find Tucker lying in front of the screen door in the kitchen, gazing longingly out at the day. When he saw her, he thumped his tail halfheartedly on the floor, his brow furrowed in a woe-is-me kind of expression.

  “Poor baby.” She crouched down to pet him. “Wanna go out?”

  He was like a brand-new dog. Jumping to his feet, he wrapped his paws around her waist, looking from her to the door as if he couldn’t wait to get going. Laughing, she opened the screen for him and went to the cereal cupboard for something to eat. When she heard whining, she found him framed in the doorway, looking pathetic.

  “You want company, too?” He yipped, spinning before coming to a stop, tongue wagging hopefully.

  “Okay, hang on.”

  She traded the cereal box for a banana and joined the irresistible Lab on the porch. Delighted, he took off down the lane that wound past John’s house, disturbing a cluster of blue jays that scolded him as he raced past. Amanda followed at a more leisurely pace, enjoying the clean feeling of the air as the mist evaporated with the rising sun.

  She remembered playing in the old carriage house with the Sawyers when they were kids, climbing into the loft, daring each other to do gymnastics routines on the rough-hewn beams. Stupid, she recalled with a fond smile. It was amazing that they hadn’t broken their necks. Built to complement the main house, the cottage couldn’t look any more different if someone tried.

  The lines of the cream-colored building were well-proportioned, she decided, and the porch was a nice touch. But it was empty. Unlike the family’s home, where you could see Marianne’s touch everywhere. She had flowers and plants twining in and around the gardens and the porches, while porch swings and comfy chairs beckoned people to come up and sit awhile.

  John’s place looked blank by comparison. As if he spent all his time elsewhere and only crashed there at night. Which was pretty much how it was, she realized as she considered the small house. It was easy to envision some wicker chairs on the porch, baskets of bright flowers hanging between the porch posts. Then there was that space out back, overlooking the pond. With a little work and a nice grill, it would be a great spot for him to relax in.

  Maybe, if it was nicer, he could even host some of their gatherings there. It might make a pleasant change of scenery for everyone.

  Then again, it wasn’t her place to suggest something like that. She’d seen his reaction when she mentioned redecorating. Not panic, exactly, but not thrilled, either. He had his little bachelor pad, with its huge bed and TV and cobwebs under the kitchen chairs. It baffled her why anyone would want to live that way, but apparently he did.

  She just couldn’t understand why.

  * * *

  John pulled his car into its usual spot in the turnaround and headed for the house. It was nearly eleven, and he figured even a city girl like Amanda would be up by now. He was still bothered by whatever she was keeping from the family, and he’d driven home like a maniac to get some time alone with her before everyone else showed up. One way or another, she was going to tell him what was going on.

  When he noticed her staring at his house, all thoughts of confronting her flew straight out of his head. He hurried down the lane to put his foot down before it was too late. “Whatever you’re thinking, forget about it.”

  Turning, she gave him the prettiest blank look he’d ever seen. “What?”

  “I know that look. You’re redecorating my place.”

  “I have a few ideas—”

  “It’s fine the way it is,” he insisted. “Leave it be.”

  “What about the back? A patio’s not hard to put in, and you’d have a great view of the pond all summer.”

  She was trying to be nice, so John tamped down his frustration and spoke calmly. “By the time I could sit down and look at it, it’d be dark.”

  “You’d see the moon,” she argued. “Hanging over the trees, reflected in the water. It’s so pretty.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “How do you know?”

  “I remember.” Looking in that direction, she added a nostalgic smile. “Sitting out on the dock with our feet in the water, looking up at the stars. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back. I was hoping it would still feel the same way.”

  The sentimental confession spoke volumes about how lost she’d been feeling, and he stepped up behind her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he wished he could fight off whatever seemed to be haunting her. “It does, I promise.”

  Leaning back against him, she asked, “You still do that?”

  “Sometimes. It’s not the same without you, though.”

  Wincing, John wished he could snatch those words back. What had possessed him to say them? She was going to think he’d been pining for her all these years, when in fact he’d done just the opposite. Sure, he thought about her once in a while, wondering what she was up to. But that was the full extent of it.

  It wasn’t as if he’d missed her. At least, not until she’d reappeared in Harland with her fancy life collapsing around her. The past few days, he’d been forced to admit that, despite the years that had passed, Amanda Gardner was still very much under his skin.

  Being friends with her had been easy enough when they were kids. Now, there was a bizarre new twist to that relationship, and he hadn’t quite nailed it down yet. Judging by the look on her face when she turned to him, she didn’t get it, either.

  “You missed me?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.

  Stunned by her reaction, it took John a few moments to realize that she’d spun on a dime and was neatly circled in his arms. It would be so easy to reel her in for an actual hug. Or even something more.

  Fighting off that impulse was almost impossible.

  Being this close to her was dangerous, but he didn’t want her to think he was pulling away from her. Keeping his hold loose and friendly, he gave her what he hoped came across as a casual grin. “Sure, but not in a bad way. I just wondered how you were, what you were doing.”

  Who you were doing it with.

  Disgusted by the turn his mind had taken, he swallowed a groan. It seemed a part of him considered Amanda more than just a buddy who looked cute in a pleated skirt and pom-poms. When that had happened, he had no idea, but he wasn’t happy about it.

  His nice, simple life had suddenly gotten very complicated. And with Amanda settled at the farm until the babies were born, it wasn’t likely to get any easier.

  * * *

  John hated his birthday.

  It wasn’t the day so much, he amended while he pulled on his good boots Tuesday evening. It was the celebrating part. But it was important to his family, and, as Marianne had pointed out, they’d let his thirtieth slip by quietly. The kids had been whispering to each other about some surprise or another, stopping when they saw him coming.

  So, because it meant so much to them, he’d put on a smile and pretend to enjoy himself. Pausing by his front door, he glanced at the shelf that held the conference MVP award from his senior year of football. The gleaming silver had a mirror effect, and in a flat section he saw a perfect reflection of himself.

  Sad, he decided with a sigh. Even when he pulled out a grin, his eyes still held the sorrow of a day he was beginning to think he’d never be able to celebrate again. Pushing the morose thought down, he focused on why he was going along with this party. The kids, his family—they all needed to believe he was okay with it.

  He caught himself dragging his feet on the way up the path and conjured a memory of his old football coach to give him a little pep talk.

  Challenges are part of life, son. It’s how you handle ’em that makes you who you are.

  Buoyed by those inspiring words, he entered the kitchen to a chorus of birthday wishes, bac
kslapping and warm hugs. They’d banished him from the kitchen after lunch, and now he understood why. Streamers hung everywhere, with helium balloons of every color tied wherever there was space.

  “This looks awesome, guys,” he said, leaning down to hug Marianne and Lisa. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, this was Amanda and the kids,” Marianne informed him. “I had an online final exam today, and Lisa was busy with Seth.”

  “Kyle and Emily made all the decorations,” Amanda clarified. “I worked the helium tank, but they were like a couple of birthday beavers.”

  She ruffled Emily’s hair, but held up her hand for a high-five from Kyle. Apparently, she’d picked up on his newfound hatred of anything he deemed remotely childish. John was impressed with how quickly she’d acclimated to running someone else’s household. Having been the boss in her old job, she’d settled into her new role nicely.

  That’s how she’d be with her own children someday, he realized. Warm and encouraging, understanding that every kid was different and needed a special touch.

  Alarmed by the direction his thoughts had wandered in, he yanked himself back to the table filled with people. When Matt shifted to offer him a seat, John grinned. “Forty’s just around the corner for you, big brother.”

  “Say that again, and you won’t see thirty-two.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, after everyone had gone home and settled in for the night, Amanda looked out the kitchen window toward John’s house. Completely dark, it looked lonely for company. Since the guys were done working for the day, she thought maybe John had a date he hadn’t mentioned. A quick glance outside showed his car still parked beside the equipment barn.

  Where had he gotten to? she wondered as she dried her hands on a dish towel. She was no psychiatrist, but anyone with two eyes and half a brain could figure out he wasn’t a hundred percent into his birthday party. Recalling how he’d tried to discourage them from doing anything at all, she frowned. The John she grew up with loved attention of any kind. For him to avoid it seemed very out of character.

  Just as she was about to turn away, she caught a flash of movement near the old oak that stood at the top of a small hill not far from the house. Her intuition told her she’d found the birthday boy, and she grabbed the dessert plate holding his untouched piece of cake and a fork. Carrying it outside, she headed for the tree. She found him sitting on the ground, eyes closed, his head tipped back against the gnarled trunk.

  Tears streaming down his face.

  He hadn’t heard her coming, and she suddenly realized this was a bad idea. Despite her good intentions, he obviously wanted to be alone with whatever was troubling him. Feeling like an intruder, she quietly backed away, but her feet rustled in the grass.

  His eyes popped open, and he looked her way with a guilty expression. Wiping his cheeks with his palms, he sighed into his open hands before meeting her eyes. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” Feeling incredibly awkward, she held out the plate. “You didn’t have any cake.”

  “Thanks. Maybe later.”

  The tremor in his voice rattled her so thoroughly, she didn’t know what to do. Men usually wanted solitude when they were upset, so they could do whatever it was they did to get through it. But she couldn’t just leave him sitting here, looking so miserable it made her heart ache.

  Instead, she decided to take a chance and sat down beside him. “Wanna tell me?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to leave you alone?”

  That got her a wry grin. “Not really.”

  Progress, she thought with a measure of pride. Since she’d been at the farm, they’d both gone out of their way to keep things light and friendly. The line wasn’t firm, but neither of them had crossed over it. Much as she wanted to help him, Amanda figured the best approach was to let him come to her. He was used to women chasing him, she reasoned, but he didn’t confide in them. Maybe the opposite strategy would work.

  After a few minutes of silence, he picked up a hunk of dried-up bark and began crumbling it into pieces. Without looking up, he said, “You want to know why I hate my birthday, right?”

  “Only if you want to tell me.”

  Tossing the bark away, he fixed her with the most mournful expression she’d ever seen in her life. “It’s Dad’s birthday, too.”

  Of course. Cursing her atrocious memory, Amanda gave herself a mental head slap. John and Ethan had always shared that day, with tons of food and a humongous cake for the hundred or so people who showed up to celebrate with them. The Sawyers did everything big, and Amanda had often thought the festivities resembled a wedding more than a birthday party.

  “That’s why Marianne made such a big deal out of this,” Amanda said. “She thinks it will help you get past Ethan’s death.”

  “It won’t work. Nothing ever will, because it’s my fault he’s gone.”

  “No.” She heard the agony in his voice, and knew it was misplaced. Taking one of his strong hands in both of hers, she said, “Caty told me it was a heart attack. That’s not anyone’s fault.”

  “It was so hot that day. We were bringing in the last cutting of hay, pushing to beat the rain that was coming in. I tried to talk him into letting me finish up, but he wouldn’t.” Pausing, John swallowed so hard she could almost feel it. “We got the wagon to the barn, and he grabbed his chest. He couldn’t breathe, and I caught him right before he fell. I called 911, but it was too late. He smiled up at me, and then he was gone.”

  The fresh tears on his cheeks were almost the end of her. Amanda remembered Ethan Sawyer, a warm, compassionate widower who’d single-handedly raised four young children. Never too busy for a chat, he’d been a welcome harbor when her own parents were too consumed with other things to notice that she needed them.

  But giving in to her belated grief wouldn’t help John. He needed sympathy, not a blubbering woman to comfort. So she swallowed her emotions and held his hand, wishing there was something she could do.

  “Matt kind of gets it,” John confided in a strangled whisper. “He felt guilty about not being here to help, and it took him a long time to get over it. But I was here, and I could see Dad was tired. I should’ve convinced him to stop.”

  “No one ever convinced Ethan of anything,” Amanda reminded him gently. “You know that as well as anyone. He was a wonderful man, but rock-stubborn right down to his boots. Just like you.”

  John glanced up, and she gave him her brightest smile. “I’ve always admired that about you. Both of you,” she added to keep Ethan in the conversation.

  Since even his own family couldn’t convince John he wasn’t responsible for his father’s death, she knew arguing that angle was a lost cause. Maybe if she got him to focus on positive memories, he could begin to let go of the guilt he’d been carrying around.

  “Thanks.” Giving her a faint smile, he cocked his head and looked through the branches at the moon overhead. “Y’know, at first I couldn’t get through a day without feeling like I was gonna lose it. Matt was home, and he tried to help, but he didn’t know what to do anymore than I did. I still think about Dad all the time, especially today.” He closed his eyes, and his shoulders lifted in a heavy sigh. “If I could skip today every year, I would.”

  He didn’t say anything more, but she sensed he wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. A warm breeze floated in, and the leaf-laden branches creaked as they swayed overhead. Frogs that lived around the pond chimed in with the night birds, surrounding the farm in a subdued melody that seemed in keeping with John’s mood.

  Sitting there with him, in the most peaceful place she’d ever known, it was easy to feel nostalgic, and Amanda gladly went along with it. “You know, I remember how you, Matt and your dad used to eat lunch here while you were working. I’d look out and wonder what you were talking about.”


  John shrugged, but some of the misery left his face. “Farm stuff, mostly. Sometimes Dad would tell us about the first Sawyers on this place, back before Harland even existed. Taking down trees to build a cabin and a barn, then this house later on.”

  “I always thought it looked like they added onto it over the years.”

  “Yeah, they did. It’s a good thing, too,” he added with a chuckle. “Matt and I would’ve killed each other if we had to share a room.”

  Considering Matt’s temper and John’s knack for tweaking it, murder was only a slight exaggeration, and they both laughed. As they sat there reminiscing, Amanda felt herself being drawn back to when things were blissfully uncomplicated, and she believed nothing truly awful would ever happen to her or her best friend John.

  If only she’d known just how difficult life could be, she lamented with a sigh. She’d have enjoyed those days more.

  Chapter Seven

  Memorial Day, John was pensive as he lay in bed and listened to the morning DJ read names from a list of local soldiers who’d given their lives for their country. Most of the recent ones he recognized—men and women he’d known all his life, people he’d gone to school with. The older ones were fathers, grandfathers and uncles of long-time friends.

  His immediate family hadn’t seen combat since the war between the states, but John had a healthy respect for anyone who served. His brother-in-law, Seth, was still recovering from PTSD, which gave John a newfound admiration for what soldiers went through.

  It was a somber start to the day, but the bright sunshine got him up and going. Oddly, since his soul-baring conversation with Amanda several days ago, he’d slept like a rock. Maybe talking about Ethan was a good idea, after all. Only with Amanda, though. He wasn’t ready to lay all those raw feelings out in front of anyone else.