Leaving Liberty (23 page)

           
Glad there was no window on the East side of the cabin, Lane stomped his way
toward the tool shed, glad to have a few minutes to get his temper under
control.

           
Lane jerked the door open and stepped into the cool interior of the shed. His
grandfather had built it out of the very best notched cedar planks. He inhaled
deeply, letting the familiar scent wash over him. Grandpa Jim was great at
giving advice. It usually involved an all-day fishing trip and about seven
words but those words were well-chosen. He desperately needed some of them
right now.

           
“Lane, you out here?” Rocky’s voice trailed through the air.

           
He grabbed some shovels and the drip lines, emerging into the sun. “Here.”

           
Rocky grinned. “Let’s get some corn in the ground. I’ve got a yearning for
fresh corn and it won’t be ready for weeks.”

           
“I hear you. It’s barbecue time.” Lane passed the drip lines to Rocky and
glanced at the large wooden deck attached to the cabin. And then he paused.
They wouldn’t be barbecuing here. It would be too awkward to be eating outside
while Daisy sat inside. Maybe he could ask her if they could use the deck one
night and she could go into town. He scratched the idea. Too many opportunities
for bad feelings.

           
“My place or yours?” Rocky trudged toward the garden, but the tone in his voice
told Lane he knew just what he’d been thinking.

           
“Mine. It’s a squeeze, with Jamie and Tom and their two little guys but we’ll
manage.”

           
“She’s home, isn’t she?” The old man stood still, gaze locked on Lane’s.

           
He nodded. “But maybe now isn’t the best time.”

           
A frown appeared on his leathered brow. “You were the one giving me a pep talk
on that ninth step. I’m ready to try.”

           
Lane heaved a breath. “I just talked to her. I would give it a few hours.”
Maybe a few days. Shoot, maybe a few months.

           
“She doesn’t want to see me.” It was a statement, not a question.

           
“She didn’t say anything about you. We were just…” Flirting, kissing, fighting.

           
Rocky’s eyebrows went up. “Uh oh.”

           
He shot him a look and stuck the shovel in the ground, hard. Was he that
obvious? He started down the row, turning the top soil and chopping milk weed
below the root. It felt good to spend his irritation out here, in the sun. He
couldn’t figure out this girl but he knew how to plant some seeds.

           
Rocky took the other shovel and turned over the soil. They worked silently for
a while. “I was hoping you two could be friends. She’s a good girl. If there’s
any bitterness, it’s my fault. I didn’t give her the kind of love a kid needs.”
Rocky’s tone was hesitant with regret.

           
Sighing, Lane leaned on the handle of the shovel and wiped the sweat from his
eyes. Friends. He didn’t know if that was out of the question. If they got
through fighting each other, and that insane attraction, maybe there would be
friendship underneath. Way down.

           
Rocky went on, moving down the row toward Lane, carefully setting the shovel
and flipping the soil where the seeds would go. “You’re an easy guy to like,
Lane. Everybody thinks you’re the town Superman. But Daisy’s got her own
strengths. She’s smart and determined.”

           
“I know.” He felt suddenly tired, and restless, all at the same time. He wanted
to be on the riverbank, pole sticking out over the water, sitting in the shade
of a scrawny pine. The cabin used to be a peaceful place for him, but not
anymore.

           
Rocky was almost at the end of the row, sweat beading his forehead. “She may be
a little abrasive, but she’s got a good heart.”

           
He snorted. She was abrasive like sandpaper. Getting to the bottom of
everything. She sure wasn’t one to gloss over the bumps and blemishes of this
town.

           
Reaching the end, Rocky paused, wiping his face on his sleeve. “So why can’t
you two get along?”

           
Lane shook his head. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

           
“Then explain it.” His tone was soft, encouraging. Rocky really was a good
friend, had been ever since they’d made a terrible mistake that had cost them
both.

           
“I do like her, Rocky.” He met the old man’s eyes. “I like her a little too
much.” It was probably a rule that you shouldn’t tell a girl’s dad that kind of
thing, especially standing near the woods holding shovels.

           
At first Rocky waited for Lane to finish his thought, but it hung there, filled
with meaning. His blue eyes widened and he seemed lost for words. “Well, then.”

           
“Yup.”

           
Lane stepped to the next row and sunk the shovel deep in the dirt. It felt good
to stomp the blade, pulling the handle until his shoulder muscles protested and
the dirt released from its winter sleeping spot.

           
“Does she know?”

           
“I would say so.” Lane felt warmth rise up his neck and hope Rocky wouldn’t
notice. He didn’t want to explain exactly how she knew. He’d been so careful,
so respectful. Keeping the flirtatious smiles to a minimum and his gaze to
himself, when all he’d wanted to do was follow her around. Every time they met
in town, he fought to stay indifferent. One dumb tag and he’d been too close,
breathing in the smell of her shampoo, wishing he could tell her how beautiful
she was, reaching out to touch her.

           
“She’s going back home soon.” Rocky’s tone was cautious.

           
Lane stomped the shovel into the ground. “True.”

           
“She never liked this town.”

           
They were almost even with each other now, working hard in the afternoon sun.
“So she says.”

           
“But knowing that doesn’t help what you feel, does it?” Rocky paused, catching
his breath.

           
Lane didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to face the fact that his heart liked
to make decisions without his head. “Apparently not.” He paused across from
Rocky, staring up at the trees. He shrugged. “Not a big deal. I’ll get over
it.”

           
Rocky was quiet, watching Lane’s face. “Did I ever tell you about Daisy’s mom?”

           
In all their years of friendship, the old man hadn’t said much about the woman
who’d left him to raise a baby. He shook his head.

           
“She was beautiful. Smart, pretty, funny. All the good things you look for in a
girl.” He had a faraway look in his eyes. “But I didn’t listen to her. She
wanted more than this town, more than working at the bakery, serving doughnuts
to the five AM crowd.”

           
“Like Daisy.” He couldn’t help adding it. She’d left right out of high school
and never looked back.

           
“Her mom never got the chance to spread her wings and to explore the world.” He
looked up. “I’m not saying everybody’s the same. Nita’s never been very far
away from this town and she’s been happy. But I knew Daisy’s mom wanted to
leave even before we got married.” He shook his head, eyes shadowed with old
regrets. “I just didn’t listen.”

           
Lane stared at the dark earth, tilled and ready for planting.

           
Rocky put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a better man than I was, a better man
than I am. I sure wish I could go back in time and make difference choices. In
fact, if I had that kind of power, I’d make things different for you.”

           
“No use in wishing, Rocky. We all know that.” He shrugged, half smiling. Rocky
always said there was no use in wishing, and here he was, wishing for Lane.
Funny how life got turned around sometimes.

           
Rocky’s gaze snapped to somewhere behind Lane and he straightened up. Lane
turned slowly, knowing who was standing there before he even saw her.

           
Daisy stepped forward, arms wrapped around her middle. Her expression was
closed tight. She didn’t look from one to the other but her gaze was locked on
Rocky. She stopped a few feet away and said nothing.

           
Lane met Rocky’s gaze. This was it. Who knew why Daisy picked this moment, this
day, but she was here and ready to listen.

           
He turned and started toward the shed but Daisy stopped him in his tracks.
“Lane, please stay.” 

           
He looked to Rocky and the old man nodded. Lane wasn’t sure why Daisy needed a
witness, but maybe she just didn’t want to be alone with her father. They had
so far to go, these two, to repair the relationship that was broken. Maybe it
never would be repaired.
Lord, help us now. We need Your counsel.

           
The older man stepped forward and Daisy’s lips went tight. Her whole body was
saying she didn’t want to hear what he had to say and he better make it
fast.              

           
“I’m sorry.” Rocky took a deep breath.

           
Daisy said nothing, her gaze fixed on him.

           
“I’m sorry for not taking care of you like you needed. I’m sorry for not being
the kind of dad you could be proud of. I’ve always loved you but I didn’t show
it. I was selfish and mean.” He swallowed hard. “Please forgive me.”

           
For a few awful moments Lane wondered if Daisy had come all the way out to the
garden to stand in front of her father just to deny him her forgiveness. Her
expression betrayed nothing. “Okay.”

           
Lane felt joy flash through him and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d
been holding. Rocky looked weak with relief. Then Daisy turned on her heel and
went back to the cabin.

           
The silence of the moment was punctuated only by the sound of the birds in the
trees at the edge of the garden and the faint echo of the creek just over the
rise. Daisy crossed the deck and went inside, shutting the back door firmly
behind her.

           
Rocky cleared his throat. “That went about as well as I could expect.”

           
“I guess so.” For the briefest second, Lane wished that Daisy had given her
whole forgiveness, wrapped her arms around Rocky and let herself become a part
of a family again. But life wasn’t a Hallmark Channel movie. Sometimes the best
you got was someone who looked you in the eye and heard the apology you needed
to give.

           
“Let’s get this garden started, my friend.” Rocky hefted the shovel in his
hands and started to turn the soil at the end of the row. His face was bright,
shoulders not as hunched as just minutes before.

           
Lane followed, holding the moment in a quiet place inside. Something incredible
had happened here, right in the dirt and mess of a summer vegetable garden, and
he’d been a witness to it. His heart lifted at the way miracles came, with no
announcement or fanfare. Just a simple meeting of two broken-hearted people who
needed to make peace with each other. He didn’t know what had given Daisy the
courage to walk out of the cabin, but he knew Who had blessed this moment. It
was nothing short of miraculous.

                                                           
***

           
Daisy leaned her forehead against the kitchen door and tried to stop her legs
from shaking. Her stomach churned and she sucked in deep breaths, willing
herself to be calm. She’d faced down one of her greatest fears… and survived.

           
Her father had apologized but she couldn’t recall a single word he’d said.
She’d stood there, a buzzing in her head so loud she couldn’t hear anything but
her own ragged breathing. She’d looked him in the eye and not been crushed by
memories.

           
Lane probably thought she’d done it out of love for Rocky, but she didn’t love
him. Maybe there was some leftover biological urge to attach herself to the man
who had given her life, but mostly there was anger and fear. She straightened
up, wiping her eyes. Not fear, not anymore. Something hard and kinked around
her heart was softening, straightening out. The constant ache in her chest had
eased.

           
As for forgiveness, she knew what she should say but she couldn’t. Not yet and
maybe not ever
. Lord, help me. I’m trying. I don’t want to hold on to
something that hurts so much.

           
Marie had suffered a broken marriage and hadn’t let it define her. She had
loved openly, fully. The words from the letter came back to Daisy in a rush.
You
were made to love, and be loved.
 

           
Daisy ran to the bedroom, yanking open the top drawer of the old oak highboy
dresser. Marie’s letter shook in her fingers as she read it again, now
comprehending what she couldn’t only a month or so before.

           
…your life will be full of great and wonderful things, if you can let them
come to you.  People may say you’re selfish but let them say it. They
might say you’re uppity or stubborn or arrogant for leaving Liberty and making
a life somewhere better. Let them say it. It was never about them. Don’t be
afraid. Do what you were born to do and live where you want to live. And don’t
ever forget to love and let yourself be loved.