Redemption Road: Jackson Falls Book 5 (Jackson Falls Series) Page 10
“Did you really expect me to?”
“That’s how it generally works.”
She swiveled her head to look at him. “Are you really that stupid?”
He just gripped the steering wheel and stayed silent. “I told you,” she said. “I told you I wouldn’t write back. I told you I wouldn’t even read the damn things.”
“So did you? Did you read them?”
She turned away from him, toward the window, and it was her silence that gave him hope. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was wrong.”
She turned her head and look at him dispassionately. “About?”
“About us. I was wrong, right from the start. I should’ve given us a chance. I thought I was doing the right thing, staying away from you. Running all the way to California to go to school. I thought…with our crazy, intermarried families, and your dad…I knew he wouldn’t approve of me going anywhere near his little girl. He’s a great guy, but he can be a little scary sometimes. That MacKenzie temper. And I thought it was for the best if we ended it before it really got started.”
In spite of the fact that his heater was broken, emitting only a feeble attempt at warmth, a trickle of sweat inched down his spine.
“And my response to that is supposed to be what?”
“I don’t know. Damn it all to hell, I don’t know!” Mikey yanked the truck to the right, narrowly missing a mailbox, and came to an abrupt stop on the shoulder. “All I know is that I’m here, now, with you, and I’m not going back there. If you don’t want me, fine. I’m a big boy. I’ll survive. But if there’s a chance for us—even the slightest chance—then I intend to take advantage of that before it’s too late.”
Stunned, she said, “You quit school?”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yeah. I did.”
“Jesus, Mikey, your dad will kill you!”
“We already had one hell of a go-round last night. He doesn’t even want to see my face right now. Looks like I’ll be staying with Mom for the time being.”
“Tell me you didn’t do this because of me.”
“I can’t do that, because you’re part of it. But only part. That first semester, I thought I’d eventually warm up to college. But I couldn’t. I hated it. The classes were boring, everybody around me was into partying. You know that’s not my thing. My roommate was a pretentious asshole, the whole atmosphere was snotty and meaningless. All I could think about was coming home. To you.”
When she didn’t respond, he put the truck in gear, checked his mirror, and pulled back onto the road. She said, “I’m halfway through my junior year of high school. We’ve started looking at colleges. I applied to Berklee. Dad says I have a good chance of getting in.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Nothing. I’m not saying anything. I’m thinking out loud.”
“I’ve poured out all this stuff, basically just opened the floodgates and emptied my guts into your lap. It would be really nice if you could give me some indication of where your head is at.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know where my head is at. I’m not even sure what you’re asking.”
Frustrated, he said, “I’m asking you to give me a second chance.”
“If I did that…and I’m not saying I will…I’d have to give it a lot of thought first. Weigh all the pros and cons. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
“I’m not fooling you. This is just me, being real, as real as I’ve ever been in this lifetime.”
“And I’m not that naïve fifteen-year-old kid any more. I just turned seventeen, and I’m pretty damn capable of analyzing our relationship and making a rational decision. Which is exactly what I intend to do. So I can’t give you an answer. Not right now. I’ve been furious with you for so long, I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of that yet.”
“But—”
“If you know what’s good for you, Mikey Lindstrom, you’ll shut up while you’re ahead.”
“I—um…fine.”
“I’m not even sure how I feel. No, that’s not really true. I know how I feel about you. Underneath all the anger and the bullshit, I still feel the same way I did a year ago. I’m just not sure you’re worth the risk.”
All his hopes, all his dreams, deflated, like the last balloon left over from yesterday’s birthday party.
“You have to give me time to think it over. When I come up with an answer, you’ll be the first to hear.” She tilted her head, studied him quizzically. “I don’t suppose you’ve given any thought to what you plan to do now?”
“Do?”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Do. Are you planning to get a job? Or are you expecting to lie on your mother’s couch all day and contemplate your navel? You’re eighteen years old and half a year past high school. Being the star quarterback of the Jackson High football team will only carry you so far. You have to do something with your life. I’d suggest you start thinking about it.”
He gaped at her. “Are you in cahoots with my dad? Because you sound just like him.”
“Do I?” She turned her attention to the red plaid scarf wound around her slender neck. Tidying it until it fell in a neat, elegant swirl, she said, “You should listen to him. He’s a smart man.”
“That’s what people have been telling me all my life. You know, I’m not quite the mindless idiot you seem to think I am. I do have a plan. Do you want to hear it, or not?”
She folded her hands primly in her lap. Coolly, she said, “I think I’d rather wait until I’ve made up my mind about you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’d like to go home now.” She looked up, met his eyes without flinching. “Thanks for the talk. I’ll get back to you in a week or two.”
Colleen
The woman who answered the door was petite and slender, striking, her features too strong for pretty. But she was attractive, in a bold, no-apologies way, with a strong MacKenzie jaw, green eyes, and a mop of curly red hair that fell past her shoulders. Grim of face, she eyed Colleen for a long minute without speaking.
“Hi,” Colleen said. “You must be Rose. I’m—”
“I know who you are.”
Fists clenched in the pockets of her jacket, she said, “Can I talk to Jesse?”
Nostrils flared, her ex-husband’s new wife studied her for another long moment before coming to some kind of decision. Rose nodded. “Come in. I’ll get him.”
The woman disappeared into the depths of the house, leaving Colleen alone in the entry hall. Last time she’d been here, the hallway and stairwell had been papered with a faux velvet print, pine tassels set against a faded gold background. The wallpaper was gone now, the walls painted a smooth, tasteful taupe. How many Thanksgivings and Christmases had she spent in this house? Summer barbecues, birthdays? She’d never lived here, but her in-laws had. Although she hadn’t been close to Jesse’s parents, she’d known them all her life, and the Lindstroms had been good to her, in spite of the fact that she’d snared their son by deliberately getting pregnant. This was the house where Jesse had grown up, and it seemed strange that he now owned the house, that he lived here with his second wife and their mixed brood.
Quiet footsteps approached. Colleen took a breath to steel herself. She turned, and there he stood, her ex-husband, the man she’d walked away from, the man who could still make her hands tremble and her stomach churn. Jesse Lindstrom was as handsome as ever, with that neatly-trimmed, silvery blond hair, so at odds with his dark eyes. She hadn’t seen him in years, but he hadn’t changed. Nothing really had. Despite the fact that they’d both moved on, despite the fact that she’d loved Irv Berkowitz with every fiber of her being, Jesse could still reduce her to that sixteen-year-old girl she’d once been, ripe on hormones and weaving elaborate fantasies about her sister’s beau. She didn’t understand it, didn’t like it. But she couldn’t escape it. Her ex-husband still sent the Colleen-o-meter through the roof.
&nb
sp; He looked stressed; he had that furrowed brow thing going on that she’d seen in Mikey last night. She’d always been able to gauge Jesse’s moods, and right now, he was agitated, angry and frustrated. Her ex was an easygoing man; it took a lot to set off his temper. Their son had apparently met with blinding success in that department.
Ignoring the wife who stood possessively behind him with narrowed eyes and a sweet-faced toddler on her hip, Colleen said, “Hello, Jesse.”
“Colleen.”
“I hear you and Mikey had a bit of a go-round last night.”
“He’s ruining his life. And if you’re here to plead his case, you might as well walk right back out that door.”
“You know, whenever I think of you, the word inflexible isn’t generally the first one that comes to mind.”
“I wasn’t expecting this,” he said. “He hit me out of the blue. Just showed up at my door. I thought he was in California. It wasn’t a pleasant surprise.”
“Tell me about it. Imagine my surprise when he came knocking on my door at two o’clock in the morning. I thought somebody was dead.”
“My fault. I’m the one who pointed him in your direction.” He let out a hard breath. “Come in,” he said. “You might as well sit down.”
The furniture was new, the house thoroughly refurbished, the walls filled with colorful, original artwork. She knew where the money had come from. At his day job, he was a mild-mannered high school English teacher-turned-principal. It was his night job as a highly successful author of suspense novels that had paid for the buttery-soft leather furniture, the beautiful hardwood floors, the new roof. She’d be willing to bet there was a shiny new kitchen as well. He could have quit the day job years ago, but he stayed, not because of job stability, but because he liked it. He’d made enough money from the writing to never have to worry about job stability again. But Jesse had never been one to put on airs or care about what people thought. It wasn’t that he was a rebel; quite the opposite. He simply had a strong sense of self and the strength of his convictions. He liked writing and he liked teaching, so he did both.
She sat on the couch and sank into soft leather, surprisingly warm to the touch. Jesse sat on a matching armchair, his posture ramrod straight. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him slouch. “So,” she said, “what are we going to do about this mess?”
“He needs to go back to school.”
“I agree with you, but how are we supposed to make that happen?”
“Tough love. I’m not backing down.”
“Jesse.” Arms crossed, she leaned toward him. “Just because getting an education was the right path in life for you doesn’t mean it’s the right one for him.”
His eyes narrowed. “I thought you weren’t here to advocate for him?”
“I’m not. I’m just repeating what he said to me. Apparently he was very unhappy there.”
“That’s not a valid excuse. Life isn’t supposed to be one big garden party. If you’re unhappy, you work your way through it and figure out a solution. You don’t turn tail and run.”
“Maybe turning tail and running was his solution.”
“Was it? Well, it stinks.”
She straightened and said, “Do you suppose there’s something else going on? Something we don’t know about?”
“You mean drinking? Drugs? That doesn’t sound like Mikey.”
“Maybe a girl?”
He tilted his head. “You think there’s a girl involved? Did he say that?”
“He didn’t mention any girl. It’s just that yesterday, I was talking to Paige. Rob’s daughter? And when she realized I was Mikey’s mother, she had the oddest reaction.”
He was quiet, considering what she’d said. While he ruminated, she studied the artwork on the walls. The colors were stunning, the style expressionist, wild and untethered. Somebody local; she recognized the locations of several landscapes. The biggest painting, the one that hung over the fireplace, was of Jesse himself, in a relaxed mood, reading in his rocking chair. “Who’s the artist?” she said.
“My wife.”
“Really. She’s very talented.”
“Yes, she is. Mikey and Paige were friends when he was still in high school. They spent time together. I don’t know that you could actually call it dating. I don’t believe it ever went that far. And it didn’t last long. They seemed to lose interest in each other, and I never saw them together again.”
“Maybe there was more to it than you knew.”
He stared at her, then turned and shouted, “Rose! Can you come here a minute?”
His wife appeared in the doorway so quickly that Colleen wondered if she’d been hovering, eavesdropping on their conversation. “What?”
“Is there anything I should know about Mikey and Paige? Anything I’ve missed?”
She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “You mean like the fact that she’s refused to even be in the same room with him for the past year?”
“Seriously? How did I not notice something like that?”
Rose shrugged. “If you recall, when he was home for Christmas, every time we got together with my brother and his family, one or the other of them conveniently had somewhere else they had to be.”
“I don’t—” He paused, thoughtful. “You’re right. Mikey skipped Christmas Eve at your mother’s house. And Paige—”
“Was sick on New Year’s Eve and stayed in her room the whole evening.”
“Damn. This one flew right by me. I must be losing my touch.”
“All I can say is that for a man who’s had a lengthy career working with teenagers, sometimes you can be really blind about what’s going on right in front of your eyes.”
“So there was some kind of relationship between them. What happened? Do you know?”
“I don’t have a clue,” Rose said. “Rob doesn’t know, either. All we know is that something went down, Paige ended up getting hurt, and they stopped speaking.”
“Maybe it was a one-sided thing. She had a crush on him, and he didn’t return her feelings.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not.”
“Do you suppose it’s even remotely possible that she had anything to do with him leaving school?”
“That possibility did occur to me last night. But after I thought it over, I realized it’s not very likely. A year is a lifetime to a teenager. Whatever happened between them is ancient history by now.”
“Except that they’re still avoiding each other. Christmas was only a month ago.” He turned back to Colleen. Said, “You need to keep an eye on him. On both of them. Find out if there’s anything going on between them.”
Rose said, “You shouldn’t put that responsibility on her shoulders. Besides, Mikey’s eighteen years old. A grown man. And Paige is seventeen. If there is anything going on between them, there’s not a lot we can do about it.”
“I’ll believe he’s a grown man when he starts acting like one.”
“Wait just a minute—” Colleen couldn’t keep the dismay from her voice. “I thought you’d let him come back here.”
Jesse met his wife’s eyes. Quietly but firmly, he said, “He’s not coming back here. I won’t back down on this. And I’m cutting off his allowance. If he can’t be bothered to stay in school, he can find a job and support himself. He thinks school’s hard? Wait until he finds out what the real world is like.”
“Jesus, Jesse,” Rose said dryly. “Why don’t you just stand him up in front of a firing squad?”
Colleen hadn’t expected his wife to be her ally. She shot the woman a look of gratitude. Jesse closed his eyes, slowly rubbed his temple. Opened them and said to both women, “Look, I deal with teenagers every day. I have for the last fifteen years. I understand how they think, what makes them tick. You wouldn’t believe some of the situations I’ve had to deal with over the years. And one thing experience has taught me is that when things get really bad, unless there’s some pathology involved, tough love is almo
st always the right way to deal with it.”
Colleen couldn’t argue with him. What she knew about teenagers came from the personal experience of having been one a couple of decades ago. He was probably right. It just wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for.
“So,” she said, “you’re telling me he’s mine until, or unless, he bows to your will.”
Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you’ve always claimed you wanted? Now’s your chance. You have to be careful what you wish for. You might get it.”
She let out a hard breath and said, “What the hell am I supposed to do with him?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and got up from his chair. “But if you coddle him, we’ll all end up paying the price. Mikey most of all.”
***
Despite the fact that the outside temperature was holding steady at eleven degrees, underneath her coat, terror had her in a cold flop sweat. She gripped the steering wheel and watched her knuckles go bone white. Jesse was right, of course; but then, when had he ever not been right? She’d spent years unsuccessfully trying to convince him that their son would be better off with her. Now that Mikey had unceremoniously dumped himself in her lap, with full benefit of his father’s blessing, she wanted to be happy about it. Instead, she was resentful, frightened, uncertain of which direction was true north. Her mothering skills were rusty. It had taken Jesse a long time to get past the fear that she’d do something crazy with their son. Over the last few years, she’d had Mikey for a week here, a week there. Holidays, school vacations. But she hadn’t been a full-time mom since he was nine years old. Her son was eighteen now. He didn’t need a babysitter, and after all this time, it was a little late for mother-son bonding.
So why now? Was this the universe’s way of blowing her a raspberry? Or was there some greater lesson to be learned here? She’d never been a fatalist, but she had come to believe, somewhere along the line, that everything in life was a learning experience. So what was she supposed to be learning from this? Why had her son shown up on her doorstep now, while she was in a state of transition between her old life and something else she hadn’t even found yet? She was desperate to leave this place before she found herself entangled in any family drama, but already she could hear the closing of doors, the clanking of chains. Already she could feel the heft of the padlock that threatened to bind her here indefinitely. Damn Jesse! Damn him for putting her in this position, for making her choose between her own needs and those of her son.