A Family Reunited (2 page)

Chapter 2

P
amela pulled her car behind the long line of vehicles filled with parents waiting to pick up their children after school. She glanced at the clock on the dash. Fifteen minutes until the dismissal bell. She scooped her notebook out of the backpack. Her professor had given a writing assignment she didn’t quite understand. While skimming the directions again, she saw a car pull into the side parking lot where the buses lined up.

“He’d better get out of there before Miss Murphy sees him,” she mumbled, then grinned at the memory of the elderly guidance counselor pitching a fit to a teenaged girl who’d blocked the buses and caused a fifteen-minute delay.

The man got out of his car and greeted one of the office ladies. The woman motioned toward the parking spaces in front of the building. Pamela furrowed her brows. The guy looked familiar; tall, thin build, red hair. If he’d turn around, maybe she could identify him.

The office lady moved, and the man faced her. Pamela’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. But it was. Plain as day. The husband she hadn’t seen in eight years.

Fury swelled inside her as he got back in the small car and drove to the front parking lot. What did he think he was doing here? He had a lot of nerve believing he could come to this school and talk to her children without speaking to her first.

Once he parked, she yanked open the door and raced toward him. She hated the thrill that warred with the fury at seeing him. He looked good. Older. A little more worn for wear but still so handsome he made her heart beat faster.

The smile that brightened his face quickly dropped when she scowled. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she dug her heels into the ground a few feet away from him. “Just what do you think you’re doing here, Jack?”

“Pamela.” His voice sounded breathless. The kindness that shone from his eyes made her almost drop her resolve to remain furious. Almost.

“Why are you here?”

“Pamela. You look good.” He trailed his fingers through his hair.

A memory of the softness of those curly locks raced through her, and she found herself wanting to touch them once more. It had been so long since she’d seen Jack, and she’d loved him with everything in her all those years ago. How she had wanted him to stop drinking!

Just stop.

She’d given him chance after chance, believing if she could love him enough he would stop in time. But he hadn’t.

Through gritted teeth she spat, “You need to leave. You have no right—”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to say anything to them. I never planned to without your permission.” He placed his hands against his chest. “But I want to see them. Just see what they look like. That’s all.”

“I should call the cops. I could, you know.”

“And say what? The father of two students who go to this school wants to see them. I have rights, Pamela.”

How dare he? Pamela uncrossed her arms, straightened them to her sides and balled up her fists. He’d left her eight years ago with one baby and pregnant with another and now he wanted to talk about his rights. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

He furrowed his brows, and Pamela chided herself for longing to touch his cheek and trace her fingers down his jaw. How could she be so angry with him and so drawn to him at the same time?

“I shouldn’t have said that.” He raked his fingers through his hair again, then balled his fist and tapped it against his forehead. “I wanted the first time I saw you to go differently.”

He looked back up at her. Sincerity bore into the depths of her soul through his gaze, and Pamela’s knees weakened. Her resolve started to wane. Before she lost it completely, she pointed at him. “Don’t say one word to either of them. You and I will have to discuss this later.”

Before he could respond, she twirled on her heel and stomped back toward the car. One of the moms waiting in line jumped out of her vehicle and touched Pamela’s shoulder. “Everything okay?”

She forced a smile toward Simon’s mother. “Just fine. No worries.”

“Who is that guy?”

“Just a guy.”

Simon’s mother twisted the strands of pearls around her neck as she studied Jack. Pamela offered a silent plea to God that the woman would leave her alone. Realizing she was petitioning a being she’d determined to ignore, she grimaced.

“You look upset,” said Simon’s mother.

Pamela wished she could remember the woman’s name. They’d met various times, and she had often talked to Pamela about class activities and field trips, but Pamela wasn’t interested in making friends. “Really, I’m fine.”

“But—”

Before the woman could continue, the dismissal bell rang. Pamela blew out a sigh of relief when the woman was forced to head back to her car with a quick wave.

She glanced toward Jack. He sat forward in his seat, watching for the girls to make their way from the building. She wished he’d been that eager to see them years ago. Things would have been a lot easier for her if she’d had a husband to lean on.

Emma and Emmy raced toward the car. Emma’s tights had a hole at the knee. Emmy, who had started the day with pigtails with bright red bows, now had lopsided ponytails and only one bow in her hair. She also sported a chocolate milk stain on the front of her shirt.
The first time he sees them they look like vagabonds.

Pamela pushed the concern away. What did she care what Jack thought? Emma hopped in the backseat and scooted over so Emmy could jump in, as well. They snapped their seat belts, and Pamela asked, “How was school?”

“Good. We made pumpkin puppets,” said Emmy.

“And I’ve got a note about the fall festival,” said Emma.

“I got one, too,” said Emmy.

“I hope you still have your other red hair bow,” said Pamela.

“I do. It’s in my bag. Fell out during recess.”

Pamela pulled forward in the line. She felt Jack watching them. Pretending she didn’t see him, she drove out of the parking lot. “You’ll have to show me all your stuff when we get home.”

* * *

Excitement filled Jack’s heart as he drove forty-five minutes back to the homeless shelter where he’d accepted the position as director. The girls looked healthy and happy. And just like their mother—absolutely gorgeous.

Regret weeded through him when he thought of how big they were and how much he had missed. If only he’d gotten sober sooner. He should have given his life to God when he’d had the opportunity as a young person, still in school. Maybe then he wouldn’t have gotten messed up with alcohol.

He pushed the “if onlys” away, knowing that harboring them only caused him grief. He couldn’t change the past. He had to focus on the present and the future. A future that would include his family.

A smile lifted his lips. It felt good to see them. And Pamela. She’d been so angry when she’d stomped over to the car and when she’d walked away. But there had been moments in their conversation when he’d seen tenderness in her gaze.

And she looked wonderful. He remembered Pamela with long red hair, pulled up with clips on the sides, little to no makeup and a small pooch in her belly for the babe growing inside. Now her hair was cut just past her shoulders with choppy wisps giving it volume. She wore makeup and trendy clothes, looking more mature and beautiful than he remembered.

He pulled into the driveway alongside the aged brick-and-vinyl building. The wooden sign in the front had once read The Refuge. But the elements and no upkeep had washed away the
R
and both
E
s. It would take a lot of elbow grease to get the shelter up to par again, but he didn’t mind.

Teresa, a volunteer from the church that had sponsored the reopening of the shelter, met him in the front room. “Hey, Jack, the plumber has already come and gone. The bathroom is good as new.”

She motioned for him to follow her to the back. He stepped into the four-stall bathroom and gasped. “Wow! Looks like you’ve been cleaning, as well.”

Teresa blushed. “Well, with the new paint and the new stall doors, it didn’t take that much effort to clean it up.” She turned on the faucets of both sinks. “And we have running water.”

He lifted his hand, and she high-fived it. “That’s wonderful. What did he say about the kitchen?”

“He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“The electrician has completed his work also. Now we just have to get this place cleaned up and pass the city’s inspection, and we’ll be back in business.”

Teresa rubbed her hands together. “And just in time. In October the warmth quickly disappears the further we get into the month.”

Jack nodded. “I remember.” Sadness tinged his voice.

After walking back into the main room of the building, he rolled up his sleeves, then grabbed a can of paint off the floor. “Anybody else coming to paint today?”

“In an hour or two.” She shrugged. “But it’s just you and me until then.”

Jack bit back his frustration. Teresa was a nice woman, and she’d been instrumental in getting The Refuge back into shape, but she also seemed to have a bit of a crush on him. He couldn’t imagine why. She’d been part of the interview process. She knew he had an estranged wife and two children he longed to get to know again. Still, she seemed to like him. Or maybe she was just nice and he didn’t know how to handle her kindness. Regardless, being alone with her was the last thing he wanted.

His phone beeped. It was his sister, Kari. He read her text message and grimaced. His mom had been depressed since he’d left, which Kari feared would affect her multiple sclerosis.

Jack sent a quick reply that he would call tonight to talk with Mom. Her sadness at his move made no sense. Since kicking him out for the last time a few years ago, his dad hadn’t wanted Jack back in the house. He stayed in touch with the family, but they hadn’t seen each other in person in years.

He took the can of paint into the kitchen, popped it open and stirred. After pouring a large amount into a pan, he carried it back into the main room. He dipped the roller into the pan and started painting the wall closest to the door. Maybe if he didn’t say anything to Teresa, they could work without any awkward moments.

Several minutes passed and he hadn’t heard from Teresa at all. He sneaked a peek out the window. Surely she hadn’t left without telling him. Her car was still in the drive, so she was still around somewhere.

As if sensing his thoughts, she walked into the room. “I made some sandwiches for lunch.”

Jack started to refuse, but his stomach betrayed him and let out a large growl. He grinned as he placed a hand against his midsection. “Guess I’m ready to take a break.”

She smiled back at him and winked. “I’d say so.”

He bit the inside of his mouth. “When did you say some of the others were coming?”

She shrugged. “Anytime I guess.”

He nodded and lifted his paint-covered hands. “I’ll head to the bathroom and wash up.”

Lifting a quick prayer to God for the others to hurry up and arrive, he turned on the faucet. His phone rang in the other room. Expecting a call from the inspector, he hollered, “Teresa, that’s probably Phil. Will you answer that?”

“Sure.”

He hurried through washing his hands, wiped them on a towel and made his way back into the main room. Teresa held out the phone to him, her expression one of stunned confusion. “It’s not Phil.”

Jack took the phone. “Hello.”

“Hi, Jack.” Pamela’s tone dripped sarcasm. “I wanted to talk with you about today, but if you’re busy...”

“Of course I’m not busy, Pamela.” He frowned. “How did you get my number?”

“Is it a problem that your wife called you?”

Jack’s heart flipped at her mention of the word
wife.
He wanted her to be his wife again, in every way, and the jealousy she felt because another woman had answered the phone warmed him from his head to his toes. “You can call me anytime. I didn’t know you had my number.”

“It was in the letter.”

So she’d written it down. She’d opened the mail, seen the check and letter and written down his number.
Please, God, let her be willing to give me a chance.
“I’m glad you’ve got it. You can call me anytime you’d like. Day or night. What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk about the girls.”

“I’d love that. Let me take you to dinner.”

“Well, I don’t—”

“Please, Pamela.”

He heard her sigh over the line. “Fine. I’ll meet you at Betty’s Diner tomorrow at six.”

“Perfect.” He gripped the phone tighter, praying Pamela could hear the urgency in his voice. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

She didn’t respond. The phone went dead, but his heart soared with excitement. Tomorrow night had to be perfect.

Chapter 3

T
he night couldn’t have gone any worse. The plumber arrived at The Refuge and found more problems than he’d expected in the kitchen. Jack ended up staying a full hour longer than planned.

The main room was painted and looked nice enough, until he discovered they’d used the bedroom paint, which meant he hadn’t had enough for the main room and had to run to the store and purchase another gallon. He didn’t feel right about asking the church to pay for his mistake, so it was money from his own account. Money he didn’t have.

After racing to his apartment, he jumped in and out of the shower in record time. He opened the dryer door, only to realize he’d forgotten to put the clothes in the washer into the dryer. He growled. The shirt he’d planned to wear to meet Pamela was still wet and he didn’t have time to dry it.

He settled on a long-sleeved blue knit shirt and a pair of jeans. Jack rushed through getting dressed and brushing his hair. He looked at the clock on the dash of his car. If he didn’t get stopped by lights, he’d make it to the restaurant right on time.

Stopping at the first light, he realized he’d forgotten to put on deodorant. He rolled his eyes and scavenged through the glove compartment. He always kept an extra stick in there. He snapped the glove compartment shut, remembering he’d taken it out to take to the gym.

Trailing his hand through his hair, he blew out a deep breath.
God, calm my nerves. This means so much to me. Don’t let me blow it.

He pulled into the diner’s parking lot ten minutes late. With a shrug, he got out of the car. There was nothing he could do about the time. The day had been a mess from the moment he’d hit the alarm clock that morning. He sucked in a deep breath. But it was time for that to change. Maybe his meeting with Pamela would set things right.

He walked into the diner and looked around the room. He didn’t see her. Maybe she was running late, as well. A sick feeling swelled in his gut, but he pushed it down. She wouldn’t stand him up. It wasn’t in Pamela’s nature. Since the day he’d met her, she’d attacked things head-on. No playing games. No shying away.

Of course, he hadn’t known Pamela for eight years. While he was in the midst of drinking, living with his parents, then with one friend or another, time seemed to go slowly. Like every day was a year. Now that he was sober, he realized just how much he’d missed. Possibly she had changed.

He took a booth near the back of the restaurant, where he could see the front door. The waitress, a slim blonde girl who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, walked up to him. “Ya want something to drink?”

Jack waved his hand. “In a minute. I’m waiting for someone.”

The girl nodded. “’Kay. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Fifteen minutes passed, and Jack pulled out his cell phone and looked at the call from Pamela the day before. If she hadn’t blocked her number, he could have called and found out what was going on. But he couldn’t. All he could do was wait and pray she’d walk through that door.

The girl returned. “Let me get you something to drink.” She pulled a tablet out of the front of her apron and a note fell out. She scooped it off the table and bopped herself on the forehead. “Can’t believe I forgot this.”

He frowned. “Forgot what?”

She smacked her lips. “And you fit the description the woman gave.” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t happen to be Jack Isaacs, would ya?”

Jack sat up straight. “Yes.”

She exhaled an exaggerated breath. “I’m sorry, mister. I forgot a lady brought this by.” She handed him the folded-up note. “I’ll get ya whatever ya want. It’ll be on the house.”

“Anything diet is fine.” Jack took the note from her hand. He opened it and immediately recognized Pamela’s handwriting.

His heart ached as he read her angry and frustrated words. She had no intention of allowing him to see the girls. None.

He crumpled up the letter in his hand and stared out the window. Bloom Hollow, Tennessee, was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful places in the world. Orange, salmon, yellow and red leaves covered trees that sat on rolling hills. On this October evening, nature looked especially gorgeous with the setting sun shedding light and warmth on everything in its path.

But the warmth evaded Jack, and darkness threatened to surround him. He craved a drink.

He yanked his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out the small card Jermaine had given him. He’d filled it up with verses of comfort and strength, words to see him through when his alcoholic demons lifted their heads.

He rubbed the card between his thumb and forefinger, then read the words that were already imprinted on his heart.
I will not give in to temptation.
He’d known Pamela might not want anything to do with him at first. He had prepared for that.

Closing his eyes, he lifted a silent prayer to God. How he needed Jermaine’s steadiness right now.
God, I know You are with me always. I know that. But I sure would like to have a friend.

“Well, Jack Isaacs, is that you?”

Jack opened his eyes and spied one of his old drinking buddies, Owen Cundriff. Forcing a smile to his lips, he motioned for him to take a seat across from him.
God, Owen is not who I meant.

Owen extended his hand across the table, and Jack shook it. “I heard you were back in town. So, how have you been?”

Jack scratched his jaw. “Doing okay. Took a while to get my life straightened out, but I’m sober now.”

Owen took his other hand out of his jacket pocket. In it he held a small, well-worn Bible. Jack looked from the Bible to his friend. Owen smiled. “Guess that makes two of us.”

* * *

Pamela was the biggest heel on the planet. She shouldn’t have chickened out. She should have met Jack at the diner and told him face-to-face that she didn’t want him back in her or the girls’ lives.

It wasn’t that he didn’t deserve to be stood up. He deserved plenty worse than that, but she prided herself on being up-front and honest with people, and ditching him was neither.

“Mom! How long are you going to take checking my math paper?” whined Emmy.

Pamela blinked and looked at the assignment she’d been holding in her hand for far too long. “Sorry ’bout that, sweetie.”

She focused on the paper and marked the few answers that Emmy had gotten wrong so her younger daughter could redo them. Emmy rolled over on the bed and started fixing the errors. Emma walked into the bedroom, brushing her long, wet hair. “Will you braid it wet so it will be scrunchy in the morning?” she asked.

“Sure.” Pamela patted the side of the bed, and Emma plopped down in front of her.

She wondered what the girls would think about their dad. Only on rare occasions had either of them brought him up. She figured it was largely because their grandpa and uncles were such strong male influences in their lives. Still, she wondered if they would want to meet Jack.

“Ow! Mom, you’re pulling too tight!” Emma complained.

Pamela loosened her grip. “Sorry.”

Emmy shoved the math paper back in her face. “Fixed now?”

Pamela looked cross-eyed, then leaned away from the paper. Spying the two corrections, she nodded her head. “Looks good. Now go get your bath.”

“Aw, but I want a snack.”

“After your bath. Go.”

Emmy pouted, but she didn’t complain further as she made her way into the bathroom.

Pamela wrapped a ponytail holder around the bottom of Emma’s hair. “Your homework’s finished, right?”

“Yep. But I need you to sign the fall festival form.”

Emma hopped up and pulled the sheet out of her backpack. Pamela read through the various needs for her class. Someone to work the booth. People to bring snacks and small trinkets. Someone to put together the basket to be raffled. Grabbing the pencil off Emmy’s bed, she said, “Guess I’ll sign up for cupcakes again.”

Emma’s shoulders slumped. “I was hoping we could work the booth. I got to help paint it during lunch today.”

Pamela looked at the date of the festival again. She didn’t have any night classes, so she should be able to make it. She grinned and pulled Emma into a hug. “Okay. We’ll do the booth.” She pointed to Emmy’s backpack. “Get her bag, too. I’m sure I need to sign up for something for her.”

After signing Emmy’s paper and brushing through her hair once she’d gotten out of the shower, Pamela took the girls to the kitchen for a snack. Bedtime took over an hour every night, and she was always exhausted by the time the girls were nestled into their beds.

Tonight, she still had a couple loads of laundry, which was a challenge because she had to lug the clothes to the B and B since she didn’t have a washer and dryer in the cabin. Sure, it was only twenty or so yards to the main house, but it was still a pain. Plus, she had her own homework to do.

Jack drifted through her mind. If he had never left, she’d have someone to lean on, to help her with all the daily chores that went with having children. Now he pleaded to be allowed back into her life, into the lives of her children. She couldn’t deny the check he’d tried to give her would help out in many ways.

But she couldn’t do it. Money usually came with strings attached, and she didn’t trust him. What if she let him back in their lives and then he started drinking again? What would that do to the girls? She shook her head. No. She couldn’t risk it.

Once the girls finished their snack, she guided them to their bedroom and listened while they said their prayers. Their innocent faith was sweet, and she wished she could protect them from the cruelty they would one day encounter in the world. Part of her wished she could go back to a time of such childlike innocence. But adult life wasn’t like that. Responsibilities weighed far heavier, and God had failed her more times than she’d have ever imagined He would.

With the girls tucked in, Pamela made the short trek to the main house. She threw a load of clothes in the washing machine and started it. She opened the door to head back to the cabin.

“Pamela, will you come here a minute?” her mom called from the living area. Pamela walked in there to find her mom and dad sitting on the couch. Dread filled her when she noticed they held hands. She braced herself for bad news. “What is it?”

“We got a phone call today.” Her mom placed her hand against her chest. “I can’t even begin to tell you how surprised we were. It was so unexpected.” Mom gazed at Dad, who nodded in agreement.

Fury washed over her. She knew who had called them. Swallowing back her emotions, she nodded. “Okay.”

“It was Jack.”

She bit the inside of her mouth, willing herself not to throw a fit right in front of her parents.

“You don’t seem surprised,” said her dad.

She lifted her chin. “I’m not.”

“He wants to meet with us.” Tammie’s voice was a little above a whisper, and Pamela couldn’t decipher the expression on her face.

“We told him he could come here for lunch tomorrow,” Mike said.

Pamela blinked several times as she peered at her parents. “Why would you tell him that?”

Her dad stood and walked toward her. He placed his hand on Pamela’s shoulder, but she pulled away. “He says he’s clean. Finished his degree. Even has a good job. I called around after we got off the phone with him. He seems to be telling the truth.”

Pamela looked away from her parents. She couldn’t believe they would betray her this way. “Doesn’t mean he won’t go back.”

“We want to talk with him. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what God would—”

“Don’t talk to me about God!” Pamela marched out of the house. She didn’t care that she sounded like a spoiled teenager as she slammed the sturdy door shut. She hated the bitterness she felt, the deep-to-her-core fear that Jack would walk back into her life and trample her heart all over again. It was not her parents’ place to meet with Jack. He was her husband, and the girls were hers. Not theirs. Just one more reason she could not wait to be on her own completely.