Touching Stars (5 page)

“This will be more interesting than the weaver,” Noah said as he lifted one end of a love seat and Gayle took the other. Together they moved it under the windows looking out over the patio.

Gayle nudged her end of the seat into alignment with her knee, then stepped back to make sure it was centered. “Why?”

“Weaving is monotonous.”

“Meditative.”

“Whatever. But I can draw with thread. Entire landscapes.”

“If you draw landscapes with thread on the Touching Stars quilt, Helen Henry will take your head off. I’m sure the top will be marked, and the quilters will follow the lines.”

Noah grinned. “You know how good I am at that.”

Gayle’s middle son was trying to pretend that nothing in his life had changed, but she saw the shadows in his eyes. Having Eric living in the inn was going to be a big change for Noah. Although it wasn’t obvious to most people, of the three boys, Noah was the one who resented his father the most. Noah had appointed himself Gayle’s protector, and although she never criticized Eric in her son’s presence, Noah still blamed Eric for leaving. Noah was the child who understood most fully the work that Gayle did to keep her family afloat.

At the same time, Gayle thought Noah was the son who had agonized the most after Eric’s brush with death. Had Eric died in Afghanistan, Noah would never have had the opportunity to work through his feelings for his father, something that would have haunted him the rest of his days. Deep inside, she thought Noah understood this, too.

“What else do we need to do?” Noah asked.

She wanted to brush a smudge of dust from his cheek, but she knew better than to baby him. At sixteen, Noah was no longer a boy, not quite a man. In the past year childhood chubbiness had turned to muscle, and the cheerful round face had hardened into lines and planes that hinted at adulthood. He was still funny and affectionate with everyone he loved, but there was a faraway look in Noah’s eyes these days.

“I think we should set the easy chair in that corner—” she pointed “—and take the coffee table into the parlor. It can go in front of the couch by the door. That should give the quilters enough room to set up the frame.”

“Want me to do it now?”

She wanted to keep him with her longer. “First help me put your figurines inside the china cabinet, would you? It’s going to be crowded in here, and I don’t want anything to get knocked over and broken.”

“Mom, some of this stuff could afford to be broken. You’ve kept every single carving, clay figure and sculpture I did since I was five. I’m not ever going to be famous enough that this stuff will be worth anything.”

“It’s not about my retirement fund. I love every one of them.”

He shook his head. “Not everything I do is great. You can see that, right? You have that much objectivity?”

Now she laughed and gave in to the temptation to ruffle his dark hair, a thick, shiny mop that edged over his ears. “I am not objective about any of my boys. You’re all stars in your own way.”

“You need to get a grip.”

Gayle opened the china cupboard and began to remove items adorning the top so she could put them inside. A rough clay figure of a little boy in a baseball cap at bat. A carving of a collie. Another of a hunter lifting a rifle. Noah’s talent had been obvious right from the beginning.

She kept her tone neutral. “How are you doing with all this, Noah? You’ve been on a real roller coaster with this stuff about your dad.”

“I wish none of it had happened.”

If she had brought up this subject so directly with Jared, he wouldn’t have been so forthcoming. Jared was a man’s man. He believed in actions, not words. Dillon was still learning to express his feelings and didn’t always understand himself or others. But Noah had been good at talking about the things that bothered him from the time he’d developed a vocabulary.

She waited, sure he would go on, and he did. “I don’t want him here,” Noah said at last. “I’m glad he’s back on American soil. I’m really glad he wasn’t killed, you know I am. And I’m sorry he still has to recover. But he left us when we needed him. And now that he needs us, he’s back.”

Gayle winced. Noah saw her and shrugged. “You asked.”

“Are you worried about
me?
” she said. “Because I asked your dad to come, and I meant it. It’s a chance for you to get to know each other a little better. You boys are going to be off into the world before long, and this might be the last summer you can all be together like this.”

“We’re not
together,
Mom. We haven’t been
together
since I was four. This isn’t a reunion. Dillon doesn’t even remember what it was like to have a live-in father, and I barely do. Dad’s just somebody we see once in a while. He buys gifts when he remembers and takes us places nobody else’s dads can afford because he feels guilty. Not that often, but boy, when he does remember to feel guilty, he pays for it.”

She was almost sorry she’d started the conversation, but Noah needed to get this off his chest.

“You asked,” he said again.

“I know. And I respect how you feel. But you need to see the whole picture. Divorce is never just one person’s fault.”

“That’s a cliché. Sometimes it is.”

“When it comes down to it, your dad and I are very different people. We loved each other, and we tried. It just wasn’t possible to work out our differences in a way we could live with. But it’s not fair to blame him for everything. He’s supported you. He’s tried—”

“He tries when he remembers. It’s just a fluke he’ll be home for Jared’s graduation. You still have to remind him about our birthdays.”

She was silent. She wondered how he knew.

“I’ve heard you on the telephone,” Noah said, answering the question she hadn’t asked.

“Eric’s on the road so much, I don’t think he always knows what day it is.”

“Don’t make excuses. People remember what’s important.”

“Okay, I don’t think birthdays
are
important to him. But the first thing he does when he gets to a new place is call me and make sure I have his contact information, in case anything goes wrong with one of you. Your rooms are filled with things he’s sent from overseas. Maybe not on your birthday, but whenever he can get to it.”

“We’ve gotten along fine without him. I know him. He’s going to interfere.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. What was the difference between interference and parental rights? Rarely had this been an issue, because Eric hadn’t been around to make decisions. But now he was in residence again, and there would be moments when the distinction became unclear.

“I want you to give him a chance.” Gayle closed the cupboard door. “And I want you to remember that I’m a grown-up, and I’ve been taking care of myself for a very long time. I invited Eric here because he needs us, and you need him. You’re going to be gone soon, Noah. This is your chance to make things right with your dad.”

There was an edge to his voice now. “And I want you to remember that whatever Dad and I work out is between us.”

He’d caught her in her own trap. “I guess I needed to have my say, but you’re right. It’s up to the two of you from here on in.”

“You know, you’re upset for nothing. Dad’s not worrying about this stuff. He’s worrying about what he’ll do next, not what he’s already done. He’s going to get well and go on his way.”

“Just don’t decide you know everything so far ahead of time, okay?”

“If he causes any trouble here, all bets are off.”

The French doors to the morning room were open, but the sound of knuckles rapping on glass made Gayle turn around. She expected to see Eric, but the man standing there was more familiar.

“Travis!” She smiled, relieved to see a friend, and more relieved to be finished with this conversation.

“What’s going on in here?” Travis waited at the threshold. He was always careful not to intrude.

She beckoned him into the room. “Clearing out for the quilters.”

Travis knew all about her choice of summer entertainment. As he crossed to stand beside them, he looked around. “They’re setting up tomorrow, right?”

“Bright and early, I’m told.”

He rested his hand on Noah’s arm. “Doing okay? Did you find a summer job yet?”

“No, and I wouldn’t have to, if you’d let me be a counselor.”

Travis shook his head. “I had to set the age limit somewhere.”

“Then set it at sixteen.”

“You know I’d let you in if I could. But every rising junior would be shouting foul. Next year, I promise. It’s bad enough I’m bending the rules for Dillon.”

“You are?” Gayle asked. “You’re going to let Dillon into archaeology camp? Even though he doesn’t turn fourteen until the end of July?”

“Well, we have to talk about the terms.”

Gayle beamed at him. She was too old to think in terms of best friends, but if someone had asked, she probably would have named Travis Allen. He lived in a Colonial brick farmhouse that had been in his family for four generations. The two-hundred-acre farm that went with it bordered the inn. He rented out his fields and pasture, taught history at the local high school, fended off his share of local divorcées and widows, and still had time to be Gayle’s sounding board.

Travis was dark-haired and lanky, with features most accurately described as regular. Wire-rimmed glasses highlighted his greatest physical asset, heavily lashed eyes that were not quite blue, not quite green. He was in his early forties and had been married once, but his wife had died some years ago. He understood what it was like to pick up the pieces after a great loss and move on, and he understood the value of having a friend of the opposite sex to confide in. A friend who was not looking for a mate or even a date. A friend who wanted nothing more than friendship.

“Whatever it takes to get him in,” she said. “Dillon is desperate to go to camp this summer with his friend Caleb.”

“Here’s the thing. I’ve got a new site I want to excavate.” He hesitated. “And it’s not on my property.”

“It’s on mine?”

“Across the river.”

When Gayle and Eric had bought the inn, they had also purchased the fifteen acres directly across the river. Gayle had wanted to preserve the view, and at the time Travis’s father, Yancy, had been willing to sell. Yancy had been afraid that after his death the farm would be broken into parcels for eventual development. He wanted to keep as much of the land open and pristine as he could.

Yancy was assured that the Fortmans would not develop the property nor sell to anyone who wanted to. Covenants to that effect were added to their agreement. But to everyone’s surprise, when Yancy died six years ago, Travis had come home to live on his family’s land. He had never asked Gayle to sell back the lost acres.

“You want to excavate the old house site?” she asked.

“One of the outbuildings. Are you interested?”

She considered. “I don’t know, Travis. All those tents for the week they camp out? All that noise at night?”

“No, we’ll camp where we always do, up at my place. I’ve got showers and toilets installed there. And your guests might enjoy coming over and seeing what we do during the day. But your view will be intact. The area where we’ll be digging is behind some trees. You won’t even see us. And for the most part the river will block the noise.”

“And you’ll let Dillon be part of it?”

“How well does he swim now?”

This was the problem with having the head of the popular archaeology camp as a friend. Travis knew too much about her family. She shrugged. “He swims.”

“That has to be a condition. We can’t take non-swimmers that close to the river.”

“I’ll make sure he’s swimming even better by the time camp starts. Noah, you’ll work with your brother, won’t you?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Please?”

Noah looked trapped. “I guess.”

“Dillon’s lived his entire life on the water,” Gayle said. “He’ll do fine.”

“Good. Leon and Jared both expressed interest in being counselors, and they were prime campers when I had them.”

“Jared won’t say yes unless Brandy’s part of the deal,” Gayle warned.

“She already said she’d do it.”

Noah added his opinion. “Brandy’s good with kids. I used to help out with the fifth-grade Sunday-school class, and so did she. All the little girls loved her.”

Travis listened carefully, as he always did. “That’s a good reference.”

“I’ve got stuff to do,” Noah said. “I’ll move the furniture later, Mom. When Jared gets back.”

He said goodbye to Travis, then took off like a shot.

Travis looked down at Gayle, and his eyes were troubled. “He’s okay?”

She knew exactly what he meant. “I’m hoping he will be.”

“
You’re
okay?”

“Well, Eric’s settled in the Lone Star room, and I’m fine. I hope the boys will be, as well. It’s not going to be an easy summer.”

“I’m glad you don’t have guests coming this week. It’ll give you time to adjust.”