Redemption Road (Jackson Falls #5) (28 page)
They were both silent for a very long time. “Why didn’t you ever
tell me this?” he finally said.
“I was ashamed. Ashamed of what I was, ashamed of what I wasn’t. Ashamed
because I’d let your father talk me into staying away from you. Maybe I should
have fought harder to hold onto you. Maybe I should have questioned your
father’s motives. But I owed him so damn much that I didn’t think I had a right
to ask questions. Everything he did, every decision he made, was because he thought
it was the best thing for you. That doesn’t mean he was always right. He’s
human, just like I am, and just as capable of making mistakes.” Her hands were
freezing, and she tucked them into her jacket. “When you showed up at my door,
I thought maybe the gods were giving me a second chance with you. Now, I’m not
so sure. Because you’re leaving again. And you’re furious with me. Have I blown
it completely?”
“I don’t hate you, Mom. I just wish I’d known the truth a little
sooner.”
“Please don’t hate your father, either. He did an amazing job of
raising you.”
Mikey crossed his ankles. Sighed. “I know.”
“I wish you weren’t leaving. But I guess I can understand why
you’re doing it.”
“Paige and I,” he said. “We were planning to stop in Vegas and get
married.”
“Oh, Mikey. I got married at seventeen, and look how that turned
out. Don’t repeat my mistakes.”
“She changed her mind. She said she wasn’t ready. That we’re too
young. That this isn’t our time.”
“She’s a smart girl.”
“It still hurts.”
“You have to give her time to grow up. Spread her wings. Figure
out what she wants to do with her life.”
“That’s pretty much what she said.”
“I’m so sorry. I haven’t forgotten what love feels like at your
age. You may be too young to get married, but that doesn’t make it hurt any
less.” She brushed a lock of hair away from his face. “Will you write to me?
Call me?”
“Of course. And I’ll come home when I can.”
“So, what now?”
“Now, I have to figure out a way to get to Camp Pendleton. I
pretty much used up the last of my money paying for this hotel room. Paige and
I needed someplace warm to stay while we waited for you to get here.”
“How much is a bus ticket to Camp Pendleton?”
“I don’t have a clue. More than I’ve got.”
Colleen let out a hard breath. She’d known, pretty much from the
beginning, that this was inevitable. She’d fought it, but the struggle had been
pointless. You couldn’t fight destiny. Your only choice was to give in to it
and see where the ride took you.
She opened her purse, pulled out her wallet, removed a plastic
card and handed it to him. “Here,” she said. “It’s an ATM card that’s connected
to a savings account. There’s not much in it, but there should be enough to buy
you a bus ticket and a few meals. There would’ve been more, but I’ve been
dipping into it to feed you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s my escape fund. I figure you need it more than I do.”
“Are you sure?”
For the first time since Irv died, certainty lifted a heavy weight
from her shoulders. “I’m sure,” she said. “Listen, kiddo, it’s freezing out here.”
She looked around, spied a pay phone. “Go on inside and call your father. He
needs to know what’s going on. And he needs to hear your voice. I’ll be right
in.”
“What are you doing?”
She tilted her head in the direction of the phone. “There’s a call
I have to make.”
Colleen
When she saw the dented Chevy pick-up in the driveway, her heart took
a joyful leap.
Rob parked beside it, and they said their goodnights at the car. Her
brother-in-law clapped her on the shoulder, and Paige, who’d been unnaturally
silent ever since they put Mikey on a bus for California and watched it pull
away, gave her a warm hug. Colleen stood watching as father and daughter
navigated the icy walkway and climbed the steps to their front porch.
She took her time, in no particular hurry. The night was late,
nearly eleven o’clock, and dense with fog. She filled her lungs with moist, fresh
air. The fog was eating away at the snow, so rapidly she could almost see it shrinking
right in front of her. Something was different tonight; while she’d been gone, the
whole world had changed. When she’d left this morning, it had still been winter.
Tonight, she could smell spring in the air. Could taste it. Winter had been
long and hard; it was time for a change.
Still in no hurry, she rounded the corner to the studio. He was
sitting on the stairs that led to her apartment, on the third step from the
bottom, a handsome, dark-haired man with stunning blue eyes and a heart as big
as the Georgia sky he’d grown up under. Beside him, a butt-ugly dog thumped its
tail in greeting.
“Hi,” she said. “Been waiting long?”
“Oh, just an hour…or two. Maybe three. But who’s counting?”
“The drive from Portland took longer than we expected. The fog was
so thick.”
“Everything turn out okay?”
She seriously considered his question. “Yes,” she said. “I believe
everything turned out the way it was supposed to.”
“That’s great news. So, Berkowitz, does this mean you’re planning
to stay put?”
She slung her purse over her shoulder. “I don’t really have a
choice, Atkins. It looks like I’m about to become a sheep farmer.”
His grin did amazing things to her insides. “I can’t wait to see
you mucking out stalls.”
“Casey can muck out the stalls. I’m more of a numbers person.”
“I have interesting news. Abe Wentzel in Florida called me back
this afternoon. Seems you might just become a wealthy woman in the near future.
Apparently, your late husband was worth a lot of money.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And what am I supposed to do with that
kind of money in this hick town?”
“I dunno. Maybe you can invest it in a sheep farm.”
“There’s an idea. Where’s Annabel?”
“She’s in the house, asleep in the guest room.”
“So you’re a free man tonight?”
“I am. After I got your message, I bribed Billy into doing the
milking for me tomorrow morning.”
“Well, then. Why are we wasting time talking?” She climbed the
steps until she reached him. Clutched his coat collar in both hands, leaned
forward, and kissed him. Deeply, sweetly, hungrily.
“Harley Atkins,” she said, when she’d had her fill. “Do you have
any idea what you taste like?”
“Do I dare to ask?”
“My future,” she said. “You taste like my future.”
A devilish grin broke across his face. “I do believe I’d like to
discuss that further.” Harley stood, held out an arm, and Colleen threaded hers
through it.
And arm in arm, they climbed the stairs to her apartment.
THE END
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Author Bio
Laurie Breton started making up stories in her head when she was a
small child. At the age of eight, she picked up a pen and began writing them
down. Although she now uses a computer to write, she’s still addicted to a new
pen and a fresh sheet of lined paper. At some point during her angsty teenage
years, her incoherent scribblings morphed into love stories, and that’s what
she’s been writing, in one form or another, ever since.
When she’s not writing, she can usually be found driving the back
roads of Maine, looking for inspiration. Or perhaps standing on a beach at
dawn, shooting a sunrise with her Canon camera. If all else fails, a day trip
to Boston, where her heart resides, will usually get the juices flowing.
The mother of two grown children, Breton has two beautiful
grandkids and two precious grand-dogs. She and her husband live in a small
Maine town with a lovebird who won’t stop laying eggs and a
Chihuahua/Papillon/Schipperke/Pug mix named River who pretty much runs the
household.
