Tender Vow (3 page)

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Authors: Sharlene MacLaren

Tags: #General Fiction

BOOK: Tender Vow
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She swallowed a tight knot and released a heavy breath. “Thanks.”

Donna blinked. “Well, if that’s how you feel…. But, at some point, I hope you’ll reconsider.” She shifted her fidgety body and frowned at her husband, then smiled down at Meagan and tweaked her nose. “Well, we should be getting to that circus, don’t you think, pumpkin?”

“Yes!” Meagan jumped with unadulterated glee.
Oh, to be that innocent
, Rachel thought.

“We’ll try not to be too late getting her home. How ’bout trying to get some rest when you put Johnny down?” Tom asked as Donna handed Johnny off to her. “You look plain tuckered out.”

It sounded wonderful, but also completely unrealistic, considering the overflowing baskets of dirty clothes in the laundry room, the teetering pile of dishes in the kitchen sink, and the brimming wastebasket in every bathroom.
Whoever said “A woman’s work is never done” must have been a single mom
, Rachel thought. Then, nodding with a forced smile, she saw the circus-goers to the door.

Chapter 2

September’s azure skies were his canopy as Jason whizzed north on US-31 on his way to his parents’ house. Unfortunately for the cluster of cows he spotted standing off in the middle of what should have been a grassy field, days of smoldering heat and a lack of rain had turned the rolling hillsides as brown as straw. He adjusted the radio dial from mellow rock to talk, then moved the AC knob up a notch. For some reason, he tilted the rearview mirror down to check his appearance. He wasn’t a vain man, but even he wasn’t blind to the new wrinkle in his forehead. Probably due to his years of squinting at the sun on the slopes. Candace said it lent to his ruggedly handsome appearance. Right.

Tuesday would be his thirtieth birthday, one reason he’d agreed to join his folks for Sunday dinner. He wasn’t in the celebrating mood, but he’d decided to come for his mom’s sake. She always had been big on birthdays, even going so far as to buy Rosie, the family mutt—some kind of terrier/poodle/spaniel mix—a bone when her special day came around.

Jason felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Keeping his eyes on the road, he pulled it out, then glanced down at the number. “Hi, Candace,” he said, looking back at the road.

“Hey! How’s your drive going? Are you almost there?”

“A few more miles. What’s up?”

“Does something have to be up for me to want to talk to the man I love?”

He gave an absent smile and silently berated himself for his lack of tact. “Are you on break?”

“Why do you answer all of my questions with questions?”

“Do I do that?” he teased.

“You just did it again.”

He chuckled into the receiver. “It’s hotter than blazes today.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been stuck in this hospital since seven this morning. What time do you think you’ll be getting home?”

“No idea. I’ll stick around here for a while. I haven’t seen my folks for several weeks. If I know my mom, she’ll want to talk my ear off. I’ll call you when I get home, if it’s not too late.”

“I wish I could’ve come along, especially since they’re celebrating your birthday,” Candace said in a pouty tone.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t, hon.” It was a partial truth. Frankly, he rarely brought her home because of the questions. “How serious are you two?” his mom always asked. “Are wedding bells in your future?” By not bringing Candace around, he could pretend their relationship hadn’t escalated up the serious scale.

Yes, he’d purchased the ring. Candace had picked it out at one of the mall jewelry stores almost a year ago, and he’d gone back a few weeks later to buy it. But he hadn’t given it to her. Instead, it lay in a velvet box in his underwear drawer. Just this morning, in fact, he’d shoved it way to the back so he wouldn’t keep seeing it every time he fished out a pair of socks or boxers. He kept telling himself that the right moment hadn’t come yet, but he couldn’t help thinking there was more to it—John’s accident putting the kibosh on his spirits, for one thing. In the meantime, Candace grew rightfully restless.

They talked until she had to return to her nursing station. Then, Jason stuffed the phone back into his pocket and started reading the familiar roadside signs: “Ella’s Bed and Breakfast, 2 Miles Ahead!” “Little Bear Lake Restaurant (across from the high school)” “Fish Bait (1/2 mile)” “Spring Valley Ski Lodge, Next Right!”

In its usual fashion, his gut clenched. It happened every time he entered his northern Michigan hometown of Fairmount, the memories still so fresh and painful. To reach his parents’ home, he had to pass through the main section of town. Turning at the appropriate corner, he passed candle and fudge shops, an antiques store, and several novelty shops, all indications of a flourishing tourist town. The second of three traffic lights glowed red, so he slowed to a stop and watched several folks cross in front of his black Jeep Cherokee, some holding packages, some leading leashed dogs, some carrying kids. All told, Fairmount’s summer season hadn’t quite reached its end, even though Labor Day had come and gone and the leaves had started turning from green to various shades of gold and red.

The Evanses’ house never changed—brick front, pale yellow siding, and a roof that could use new shingles. As a builder, Jason always noticed when a house needed spiffing up, and his parents’ place was no exception. At least the yard looked like something out of
Better Homes and Gardens
, thanks to his mom’s green thumb and his dad’s sprinkling well, which made for the plushest grass on the block.

A blue sedan sat in the drive, shaded by sprawling oaks. It looked like the Robertses had come for dinner. He hadn’t seen them since the funeral. He thought about Rachel, and how he wouldn’t mind seeing her and his niece, plus meeting his new nephew, but he doubted she’d show. Since she’d spewed those accusatory words at him in the cemetery, he hadn’t heard a word from her—and he had never mustered up the courage to call and set things straight. But then, why should he have to be the one to make the first move?

Forgive, even as I have forgiven you came the Spirit’s gentle nudge. Jason gripped the steering wheel hard before shutting off the engine.

God, what am I even doing here?

The front door opened, and his mom stepped onto the porch. She looked thinner than the last time he’d seen her, and a wave of guilt washed over him for not coming around more.

God, she’s been through a lot.

He put on a wide smile before opening his door, climbing out, and going to greet her.

The meal tasted delicious—roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, salad, rolls, and green beans. Since Candace hated to cook, and since she and Jason had especially hectic work schedules, they usually grabbed takeout, but partaking of his mom’s feast made him long for more frequent home-cooked meals. He hoped Candace would acquire some kitchen skills before they married. He could grill a good steak, but he couldn’t fry an egg to save his life.

Dinner conversation moved from one topic to the next, covering everything from Mitch Roberts’s used-car dealership and Arlene’s high school English classes to his dad’s accounting job, then on to Tanna, Rachel’s sister. Younger than Rachel by more than a dozen years, Tanna had been one of those “surprise” babies.

“What grade are you in now, Tanna?” Jason asked her.

“Tenth,” she answered. She dabbed at her chin with her napkin, then set it down beside her mostly empty plate. “I go to Fairmount High now.”

“Man, that doesn’t seem possible,” Jason said. “Weren’t you just this tall”—he held out his hand, palm-down, about three feet off the ground—“just yesterday?”

Tanna blushed and giggled, and, for the span of a second, he saw Rachel—lithe, with ivory skin, robin’s-egg-blue eyes, and honey-blonde hair.

“She just made the varsity cheerleading squad,” Jason’s mom announced.

“Taking after your sister, are you?” Jason said. He remembered stealing a glance at Rachel on the sidelines in her short cheerleading skirt, before catching a pass from the quarterback at the fifty-yard line. Looking back, he probably could have made more catches if she hadn’t presented the distraction. He gave his head a little shake and asked Tanna how this year’s football team was shaping up, which proved good fodder for another ten minutes of nonstop talk while the women cleared the dinner dishes and then delivered thick slices of chocolate birthday cake and steaming cups of coffee.

Afterward, everyone moved into the living room. Since Tanna had arranged to go to the movies with some friends, she left at the first beep of a horn in the driveway, but not before collecting a couple of bills from her father and then waving to everyone on her way out the door.

“Such a sweet girl,” Jason’s mom remarked to Arlene. “She reminds me so much of Rachel at that age.” Since when had his mom become a mind reader? “Speaking of which, Tom and I tried to convince her to come over today.”

Arlene tucked a few wisps of her shoulder-length, salt-and-pepper hair behind her ear and frowned. “I did the same thing this morning, but she declined, saying she needed to keep Johnny on his nap schedule.” She shook her head. “She struggles to stay above water, that girl, but she does a fine job in spite of it. Mitch and I want to help her as much as we can, but she’s independent enough to want to make do on her own. We’re proud of her for that, but we still worry.”

“As do we,” said Jason’s mom, her narrow shoulders slumping. She was normally stalwart and steady, but Jason thought she looked far older today than her fifty-seven years. He glanced at his dad and thought the same thing about him. Since John’s passing, his dad had treated him differently—not in a way he could totally put his finger on, just different. When he might have enfolded him in a bear hug a year ago, today and on his previous visits, he had given him no more than a hasty squeeze or a pat on the shoulder. Jason felt the gnawing suspicion that his dad might hold him responsible in some way for his brother’s death.

“How’s that little nephew of mine doing?” Jason asked, sitting at the edge of an overstuffed chair, knees spread, hands clasped between them.

“Oh my, he’s a little live wire,” Arlene said. “I swear he was born with a little engine inside him. We all had better stand back when he starts walking, because he’s liable to mow us down.”

The grandparents all chuckled, and suddenly Jason felt cheated. He wanted to meet his brother’s son. Not only that, but he missed his little sugar plum fairy, Meagan. He wondered if she’d even remember the nickname he’d tagged her with when she was just a baby. The notion that she might not triggered some heartfelt sorrow.

As the women swapped stories about Johnny’s teething woes and Meagan’s preschool class, the men listened for a while, then began a conversation of their own.

“How’s your construction business faring, son?” Mitch asked Jason.
Ironic he should inquire ahead of my own dad
, Jason thought.

“I can’t complain. Business is good, despite our sluggish economy. ’Course, things always slow down in the winter months.” That’s when he and John would take off for the mountains. Not this year, though. The fact was, he couldn’t be sure he’d ever ski again, as much as he loved the sport.

His dad cleared his throat. There was an almost visible chill in the air from his reaction to the mention of winter.

Mitch looked at his wife. “Arlene, you about ready to go?”

“Yes.” She brushed her hands together and stood up. “I’ll just get my purse.”

At the door, the five adults said their farewells, Mitch and Arlene hugging Jason and wishing him a happy birthday. “It was so nice to see you again, Jason,” Arlene said. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Jason laughed. “I won’t. I promise.”

She touched his arm and leaned forward to whisper, “Maybe you should just go see them. I know Meaggie would love it if you did.”

He nodded. “I think I might consider it.”

He stayed another hour, sitting with his parents at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, and chatting about nothing, unless September’s heat wave counted as a worthy topic. His mom forced him to down one more piece of cake, even though he’d protested he was no longer hungry. Rosie, who’d spent the afternoon in the fenced-in backyard, now dutifully sat at Jason’s feet, waiting for a morsel of cake to magically fall to the floor. When his mom wasn’t looking, he slipped her some crumbs.

“I’m going to go see Meagan and John Jr. on my way home,” he announced.

His dad’s face went several shades grayer. “That’s not a good idea, son.”

“Why not? Arlene suggested it herself. I have a right to meet John’s son.”

“He’s right,” his mom said.

Never one to send his wife a scolding look, his dad angled her one now. “Donna, I know what I’m talking about. Seeing Jason will only upset Rachel.”

“Why, Dad?”

“Because, you—” He stopped himself and paused.

“What?”

“Rachel’s not—she’s been through enough already. If she doesn’t want to see you, you should respect her enough to stay away.”

“Tom, for goodness’ sake,” his mom said.

Jason put his hands on the table and pushed back his chair. Standing, he moved his gaze from one to the other. “She doesn’t want to see me because she blames me. That’s the bottom line, isn’t it? Do you think I’m to blame, too? You never have been straight with me whenever I’ve asked.”

A tight gasp escaped his mom’s throat. His dad sat and stared, his mouth agape. “Tom,” Donna whispered. “Tell your son that you don’t blame him.”

Silence filled a five-second gap. “He can’t, Mom, because he’d be lying.”

“Now, listen here, son,” Tom said.

“What do you want from me, Dad?” Jason felt his anger rise higher than a gushing hot spring. He swallowed, feeling the tension slide down his throat and drop like a rock into his chest. Tears hid behind his eyes. “The police questioned me, and I told them how it all went down. Do you have something to ask me? Because, if you do, I’d like to hear it.”

“Stop it, both of you,” his mom said, sorrow seeping out from her tone, moistness brimming in both eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Jason’s voice went soft. “Sorry I took John skiing that day, sorry he took Devil’s Run, sorry he didn’t have the experience to handle the icy conditions. Does it make you feel any better that I begged him not to do it? I stood there at the top of the slope and pleaded with him not to do it, but he refused to listen. He went anyway, Dad.” He thumped his chest. “How do you think that makes me feel?”

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