Hometown Holiday Reunion (5 page)

Satisfied that her son was in good hands, she turned up the volume on the stereo and got back to work.

* * *

Leaving Erin and Parker to get settled in their new apartment, Cam headed for his mother's house. Since her second stroke, he and Natalie had split the days, her checking on Mom in the morning, while Cam stopped by in the afternoon and then spent the night after closing the restaurant. A home-care nurse covered the hours in between so their mother was never alone.

Although the cost of such expert care was high, they'd both agreed that it was the best thing for her. Because Natalie had a family of her own, Cam had been covering the majority of the bills himself. It was draining his savings account at an alarming rate, but until all of her doctors declared her out of danger, he was committed to doing it. He recognized that he wasn't able to control everything, but if anything happened to her that he could have stopped, he'd never forgive himself.

As he drove through town, he allowed himself a self-pitying sigh. His life in Minnesota had been just what he'd always wanted. Following his divorce, he'd embraced his second chance at bachelorhood with gusto, working hard every day, even taking building design classes a couple of nights a week to expand his professional options for when he got too old to meet the physical demands of hands-on construction work.

Being responsible to—and for—no one but himself was a great way to live, and he'd decided that he just wasn't cut out for anything more.

His preference for an uncomplicated existence had made it tough for him to come dragging back to Oaks Crossing, but he couldn't keep enjoying himself when his mother and sister needed him. That was his father's way, Cam thought with a grimace in the rearview mirror. When in doubt, he always chose the opposite of what that selfish weasel had done. No matter how hard it was, he'd never allow himself to drop low enough to follow in that traitor's footsteps.

As Cam turned onto Cherry Street, he had to wait for a young mother pushing a stroller while she called to a toddler lagging a few yards behind her. This was the oldest part of town, filled with graceful homes built for raising large families. Christmas lights still hung from windows and outdoor trees, and walkways led to front porches with wreaths on the front doors and garlands hanging from the railings.

When was the proper time to take those down, anyway? Cam wondered as he continued down the street. Natalie and her husband, Alex, had helped decorate their mother's house at the beginning of December, but she hadn't mentioned when the stuff should come down. Whatever his sister's answer on that one, Cam suspected he'd be doing that job by himself. Putting everything up was fun, and there were always plenty of hands willing to pitch in. Packing it away, not so much.

As he turned into the driveway, he noticed an unfamiliar sedan with Michigan plates parked next to the nurse's red hatchback. The driver was standing beside the car, staring at the house as if he was trying to decide whether or not he was in the right place. When Cam's truck door slammed shut, the stranger turned, clearly startled by the sound.

In a single breath, Cam's temper spiked to eight on the Richter scale.

“What do you think you're doing here?” he spat out, striding over to block the man's way up the front steps.

“Hello, Cameron,” his father replied with a deferential nod. “I wasn't sure you'd remember me.”

Only his mother used his full name anymore, and hearing it from someone he despised only fanned his anger. “You walked out on a family who needed you. That's not something I could forget.”

“I know, and I don't blame you for hating me.”

Cam swallowed a rush of curses that would have made a seasoned sailor blush. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard about Bridget's stroke.”

“Which one?”

To his satisfaction, his father paled. “There's been more than one?”

“Two, actually. How did you find out?”

“Your aunt Connie emailed me just before Christmas,” he explained, bowing his head in something that looked like shame. When he lifted it, he fixed a pleading look on Cam. “I had no idea things were so bad, or I would have come sooner.”

“There wasn't much point in that,” Cam snarled, folding his arms defiantly. “I'd just have run you off then instead of now.”

“We never divorced, so she's still my wife,” his father pointed out, showing a bit of backbone. “I have a right to see her.”

Not a chance
, Cam wanted to growl. Instead, he kept his cool and said, “This is Douglas property, and Granddad left it to Mom, not you. You have a right to leave before I call the sheriff.”

“That's not fair.”

In response, Cam pulled the cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans and started punching numbers.

“All right, you win.” Holding up his hands, their unwelcome visitor backed toward his car. “I'm making a circuit of the area and will be coming back through here the first week in January. After that, I'll be staying at the B and B outside of town, and I'm not going anywhere until I see my wife.”

“Looking for a job?”

“Actually,” his father retorted, taking out a business card and holding it out to him, “these days, I'm the owner.”

Natural curiosity prodded Cam to take the card, which read
David Stewart, Management Consultant
. Scottish pride kept him in his obstinate stance, glaring unmercifully at the man who seemed to think he could just stroll back into their lives as if he belonged there.

“You remind me of your Grandpa Douglas, God rest him,” his father lamented, shaking his head. “He was stubborn and unforgiving, too.”

“He was a great man, and he was there for us every day until he died. He'd never even consider bailing on his family.”

“Grudges are a heavy burden to haul around with you, son.”

“Don't ever call me that,” Cam snarled. “As far as I'm concerned, I lost my father years ago.”

Before he could do something that would land him in jail, he forced himself to turn away and stalk up the porch steps. Behind him, he heard a heavy sigh and a car door closing. Once the sound of the engine began to fade, he glanced back to see the car slowly making its way toward Main Street.

Wonderful, he thought as he opened the front door to go inside. And he'd thought the day had
started
badly.

“Hello, Cam.” His mother's nurse greeted him from the kitchen doorway. “How are you today?”

He wasn't sure how to answer that, so he sidestepped the question. “Wondering when it's appropriate to take down Christmas decorations.”

The cheerful woman laughed. “When your mother says it's okay.”

“Makes sense.” Glancing toward the living room, he quietly asked, “How's she doing today?”

“I've never had the joy of caring for a patient with such a marvelous attitude.”

Translation: the same. Cam fought off a dejected sigh and forced a smile. “That's nice to hear. Is she awake?”

“And waiting for dinner with you. The café sent over a delicious-smelling chicken and dumplings meal for the two of you, and it's keeping warm in the oven. You look beat,” she added in a concerned tone. “Is there anything I can do before I go?”

“No, thanks. I've got it from here.”

She gave him a doubtful look but thankfully didn't press him for details. After the infuriating run-in with his father, he wasn't exactly in the mood to be sociable.

“Well, all right. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

After walking her out, he took a moment to regain his usual calm before talking to Mom. Resting a hand on the antique door, he looked down at the faded floral rug that had been in the entryway since long before he'd been born. Old and solid like the oak trees that surrounded it, the house had been built by one of the founders of the town and owned by his descendants ever since.

Mom's current condition might be the end of that run, Cam mused with a frown. If he couldn't figure out a way to pull the family business out of the ever-deepening hole that he'd found it in, selling the homestead could be their only way out of debt. He hated to think of that happening on his watch, but modern finances didn't always mesh with keeping a family's history intact. Much as it pained him, he had to be practical.

Explaining it to Mom would be another thing altogether. For now, he put that out of his mind and plastered a nonchalant grin on his face before sauntering into the living room like he didn't have a care in the world.

“Hey there,” he said smoothly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “How's my favorite girl?”

Eyes that used to be a clear blue had a cloudy tinge to them, and it took her a few seconds to focus on him. When she did, the unaffected left side of her face crinkled with what now passed for her smile. “Better.”

Because her speech was so limited, these days she kept her end of conversations short. It killed him to see his formerly bubbly mother reduced to this, but he held out hope that her ongoing therapy would unlock whatever ability she still had and make the most of it.

Reaching for something positive, he landed on the only thing all day that had made him smile. “Erin Kinley's gonna rent the old general store building from us. She and I signed the papers with Natalie this morning.”

Her smile deepened a little at the news. “That's good. Living there?”

“Yeah, with her foster son, Parker. Have you met him?” She shook her head, but her expression brightened slightly, prompting him to go on. “He's had a tough time, but he seems like a great kid. Really liked my truck.”

“Heard some things,” she said in a halting voice, clearly hunting for the right words. “Poor boy.”

With the precarious state her own health was in, that she could feel sympathy for someone else's problems made Cam feel ashamed for pitying his own situation. “She's opening a pet store, aiming to have it ready to go before spring. I offered to design and build the fixtures she needs, so that oughta help move things along.”

“My Cam,” Mom approved, extending a trembling hand to pat his arm. “Such a good boy.”

Her praise hit him hard, and he had to swallow the lump that suddenly clogged his throat. Accustomed to working with a crew of tough-as-nails guys, he wasn't used to having a softer touch in his life, and he had to admit it was kind of nice. “Thanks. Are you ready for dinner?”

Shaking her head, she pinned him with an alarmingly alert stare. “Who was here?”

Assuming she'd been asleep during his father's unwelcome stop, Cam swallowed a curse. “No one.” She gave him a chiding look, and he relented with a frown. “Fine. Your husband came by, and I told him it was a bad time for a visit.”

There would never be a good time, but Cam figured it was best to keep that opinion to himself. He didn't want to upset her any more than necessary.

“Why?” she asked.

“You mean, why did he come, or why did I send him away?”

“Both.”

Cam filled her in on the little he knew, then remembered the business card he'd jammed into his pocket. He fished out the crumpled paper and showed it to her. Then, to his amazement, she took it from him and stared at it for several long moments.

“You should call him,” she finally said.

When she got tired, her speech began to slur a bit, and he assumed he'd misunderstood. “I'm sorry, Mom. What did you say?” She repeated it, and he scowled. “Not a chance.”

“Please?” Fixing him with a trusting look, she gave him another half smile. “At least think about it.”

Cam's instinct was to refuse outright, then list the many reasons they all had for avoiding contact with the man who'd abandoned them when he'd come to the decision that his family was more of a burden than he cared to shoulder. Just as he was about to launch his argument, though, Cam noticed something in his mother's gaze.

Fatigue had begun to set in, and her ability to focus on him was starting to fade. But somewhere in the lines of her face he saw a trace of her old determination. It was the kind of look she'd given him when he was a teenager bent on defying her just for the fun of testing her limits. Seeing it now bolstered his flagging hope that in time she'd recover from this devastating blow and be herself again.

“You want to see him, don't you?” he asked.

“Not if it hurts you.”

Meaning she wanted it for herself but wouldn't sacrifice Cam's peace of mind to get it. For the life of him, he couldn't begin to understand why she felt so strongly about reconnecting with a man who'd neglected her for so long. His father wouldn't be back in town for a few days yet, which gave him some time to mull over the situation and make a decision.

“Okay, Mom,” he finally gave in, covering her frail hand with one of his own. Giving a gentle squeeze, he forced a smile. “For you, I'll think about it. But don't tell anyone I gave up so easy. I've got a reputation, y'know.”

That got him a faint laugh, and she murmured a thank-you.

“You're welcome. Meantime, I'm starving. How 'bout you?”

“Smells good.”

“Sure it does,” he replied in a chipper tone he hoped disguised how he was really feeling. “Lena still uses your recipe at the Oaks, and it's a big hit.”

His mother beamed at the mention of her old friend, who happened to be a fantastic cook. While he got their dinner together, Cam searched his memory for snippets of town news that he thought might interest her. He knew he wasn't the most entertaining person in the world, but Oaks Crossing was full of characters ranging from quirky to borderline insane.

All he had to do was cherry-pick some of the mindless gossip he heard at the café on a daily basis. Apparently, the busybodies he'd spent most of his life resenting served a purpose, after all. Who knew?