Return to Emmett's Mill

Moving quietly, she tried leaving the buffet table, but Josh caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and turned.

They stared, each wondering what to say to each other, until Tasha realized what they were doing was childish. They were adults; time to act like it. She braved a small smile.

“You look good,” she admitted in a grudging tone.

He inclined his head, accepting her compliment, and murmured, “I could say the same to you. It seems the jungle agrees with you.”

“Thanks,” she returned, waiting as he put slices of roast beef and potatoes on his plate and added a slice of buttered bread, then moved away. After loading her own plate, she hesitated and he turned, as if reading her indecision or feeling her reluctance to take a seat beside him. Once they’d been more than friends; now they weren’t even acquaintances. He jerked his head in invitation but she knew it was out of courtesy. “Are you sure?”

“It’s fine,” he assured her, this time with more conviction.

He led her into the rarely used sitting room, as if instinctively knowing that she craved some quiet after the emotional events of the day.

They sat at opposite ends of the loveseat her mother had bought at an estate sale and had considered a steal, and she idly wondered when Josh started liking Mrs. Holt’s roast, if only to focus on something other than the feel of her heart beating painfully.

He’d always complained it was tougher than an old shoe. He turned and the question must’ve flashed in her eyes, for he bent toward her and whispered an answer out of the corner of his mouth.

“She knows where I live.”

Tasha laughed. She’d seen Mrs. Holt watching the buffet line like a hawk, noting who had bypassed her contribution and who had dutifully taken some. A foreign feeling created a warm glow inside her and she had to pop a stuffed mushroom into her mouth before she embarrassed herself.

“Besides, I’ve realized…it’s not that bad,” he added in a tone that was entirely too high-pitched for honesty or natural for a man of Josh’s considerable size.

“That’s not what you used to say.”

“Things change,” he said, sticking a forkful in his mouth with fake relish. “See? Delicious.”

Tasha chuckled when his act faltered as he swallowed, and for the barest of seconds, it felt natural to sit beside him enjoying a meal. Until she glanced down and caught the pale white line encircling his ring finger, reminding her sharply that they had taken different roads without each other. The absence of the ring made her wonder. “I heard you married Carrie Porter,” she ventured, surprised at how after so many years the knowledge still managed to burn. But she didn’t blame him for moving on. Not now, anyway. She popped another mushroom, chewing until a morbid sense of curiosity took hold of her tongue. “Why no ring?”

His mouth formed a grim line and he shrugged. “Didn’t figure I should wear the ring anymore when the divorce was final months ago.”

Oh. “What happened?”

He shot her a quick look and she got the distinct impression she was trespassing. Heat flooded her cheeks. “Forget it. It’s none of my business. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Chalk it up to jet lag, grief, pressure from my sisters…take your pick.”

He nodded and returned to his plate, leaving her to wonder if she shouldn’t just make an exit now before she ended up wandering into dangerous territory for them both.

Time had added lines around his blue eyes, and slivers of gray threaded the hair that had once been solid brown, but his shoulders were wider than she remembered and thick with muscle that hadn’t been there when they were kids. As far as she could tell, there was nothing boylike about the man next to her. The knowledge gave her a dark thrill that immediately put her on guard. She wasn’t supposed to feel those kinds of things for Josh anymore. But when he was sitting within arm’s length, it was hard to ignore the spark.

He surprised her when he started talking about his life with Carrie.

“It was good for a while, but I guess we grew apart. You know how that happens.” He paused, but he didn’t really expect an answer. “Anyway, she still lives in Stockton. I needed a fresh start and figured I could find that from home. So, here I am.”

She nodded, surprised at the modicum of sympathy that she felt for Carrie. “I’m sorry,” she offered, hoping Josh knew she was sincere. He accepted her condolences in the same fashion she’d accepted his—politely—and crumpled his soiled napkin before dropping it to his empty plate. As she watched him, a flood of memories came back and Tasha spoke before her brain could catch up and tell her to stop. “You know, when I heard you and Carrie had married…I have to admit, it threw me a little.” More than a little, but that fact made little difference now. When he looked at her sharply, she shrugged. “I mean, I guess I never would’ve put the two of you together because you weren’t exactly friends in high school.”

“I know.” He shrugged again, but the blue of his eyes had gone bleak and she sensed the pain that he was trying to hide. That she could see it so easily jarred her, and she struggled to recover without letting on how it had affected her. It wasn’t right that she could still read him so well. Time should’ve blunted that ability, but it hadn’t. He drew himself up, his plate resting in one hand, and briefly met her wide-eyed gaze. “What are you gonna do?” he asked rhetorically, the sarcasm in his tone at odds with what she knew of his personality. “Marriages end every day. I should’ve known better in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. At one time he’d been quite romantic. Josh was the kind of man women loved to marry because he was a one-woman kind of guy who cherished the family. His bitterness caused sadness to spill over inside her for the boy who’d lost his belief in love.

“Forget it. It’s nothing I want to talk about.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, knowing her words were inadequate.

“What’s done is done,” he said. Their eyes met again, and Tasha was tempted to look away for fear of catching something else that he hadn’t meant to share, but she couldn’t. Her heart fluttered but she held his gaze, wondering how he managed to affect her after all these years. It was heady and frightening. And it made her question whether or not he shared her ability and could read the confusion she felt. Shaking his head, Josh broke the spell, and when he spoke again, at least the sarcasm was gone. “Everything happens for a reason, right?”

“That’s what some people believe.”

“You don’t?” he said, catching what she didn’t say.

“No.” She left it at that and he didn’t press.

“Well, I’m one of those people, because if hooking up with Carrie was good for only one thing, I got it, and that’s my son.”

Son? An overwhelming sense of self-pity filled her. “You have a son?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay light and politely interested when she felt cheated of something that never truly belonged to her in the first place. “What’s his name?”

“Christopher,” he answered. “He’s fourteen.”

“Just one?” she asked, remembering a distant conversation held between two young lovers seeking shelter from a summer storm in an abandoned hay barn. Back then, he’d boasted of wanting a houseful of Halvorsen sons and daughters.

“Just one,” he confirmed, though there was regret in his voice. “Carrie had problems with her pregnancy and we didn’t want to risk it.”

“That was smart,” Tasha said.

“Yeah, well, it helped that Carrie wasn’t interested in more kids, anyway. She said one was enough, and since it was so hard for her, I agreed.” He turned to her, a speculative light in his eyes as he abruptly switched subjects. “So, what have you been up to all this time? I heard something about the Peace Corps? That’s intense. I always knew you’d do great things. Seems I wasn’t wrong.”

The proud statement, touched with wistfulness, made her stomach flop in an uncomfortable manner. She didn’t deserve his praise, or anyone else’s for that matter. She enjoyed her work—it gave her a measure of peace knowing she was helping others to lead a better life—but her motivation hadn’t been grounded in humanitarian reasons. It had simply been the fastest and easiest way to escape the nightmares, the guilt and the questions. The fact that it had turned out to be something she could embrace without reservation was just a perk.

“Anyone can join the Peace Corps. It’s not an exclusive club or anything. You just have to want to help people,” she said, suddenly hating that her life had been shattered before she’d had the chance to actually live it. Surprised by the odd burst of rancor, she covered with a light laugh, adding with false brevity, “Oh, and not have a phobia for really big bugs. And snakes. The jungle is full of them. Most are harmless, the bugs that is, and even edible. Many indigenous tribes find grubs delicious. I’ve even tried a few,” she admitted with a blush. “Some taste like popcorn when roasted over an open fire.”

“Popcorn?”

“Well, sort of. I don’t think they’re going to replace Orville Redenbacher anytime soon, but they’re…crunchy and full of protein.”

He stared at her for a moment before breaking into a loud guffaw that took her by surprise. At first she felt defensive, but once she realized he wasn’t laughing at her but rather at the very odd conversation turn, she joined him. Wiping at her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry…that was a really weird thing to say at a wake….”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I totally understand.” The warmth of his voice told her somehow he did understand and she relaxed for the first time since touching down in California. She missed this feeling and it was tempting to sink into it, but she knew it was created out of extreme circumstances. What they’d had was gone. She wasn’t foolish enough to hope that they could ever recreate what they’d both destroyed.

The splash of reality drowned the good feelings she’d been enjoying and brought her back to earth.

He’d married Carrie, and Tasha had run away, afraid of what people would say, think or feel when they found out what had happened to Emmett’s Mill’s sweetheart. An even worse thought would’ve been if they didn’t believe her.

Her own father hadn’t. Why would anyone else?

It’d been easier to run. And, as she sat beside Josh, she realized she’d never truly stopped running.

He didn’t know what happened that night; he’d already left Emmett’s Mill with Carrie to start a new life without her.

Even so, she’d cried his name into her pillow, wishing for his strong arms to calm her quaking body and chase away the nightmares that came every night, no matter how hard she pushed herself, hoping for oblivion.

But that was long ago and she was a different person now.

And she would die before she ever divulged to anyone, much less Josh, what had happened to her.

CHAPTER THREE

TASHA HELPED CLEAR DISHES with her sisters, her mind a jumbled mess, happy to avoid conversation with her father, though a surreptitious glance in his direction where he sat stone-faced and bereft should’ve told her he was in no shape to resurrect old arguments. For that matter, neither was she.

“I think that went fairly well,” Natalie said, loading the dishwasher while Tasha hand washed what wouldn’t fit.

“As well as a wake can go, I suppose,” she murmured, pausing to rub wearily at her left eye with her wrist and sneaking another glance at her father.

“Where did such a weird custom start, anyway? Bringing food to a bunch of grieving people. Stupid, if you ask me,” Nora said, mostly to Natalie, who to her credit only reacted with a long-suffering look. “I, for one, didn’t feel like chowing down after my mother’s funeral. Morbid. Simply morbid.”

The last words were delivered as she stalked from the room to gather the rest of the leftovers, and Tasha was glad for the respite. She hadn’t remembered Nora being such a hothead.

“You sure you don’t mind hand washing?” Natalie asked, drawing her attention.

“I can do this in my sleep. No dishwashers where I’m stationed,” she answered with a sigh, placing the cleaned pot on the dish rack and proceeding to the next. “Besides, it feels good to do something. Makes me feel useful.”

“You were a big help today,” Natalie said, brooking an amused smile on her part. Nat was always trying to make everyone feel better. Tasha accepted the compliment and finished with the dishes. Silence stretched between them and Tasha tumbled into an odd funk that probably had more to do with her jet lag than her grief, as the true measure of that emotion hadn’t quite hit her yet.

Her two younger sisters had grown into strong, capable women while she was away. Not that she’d doubted they would, but Nora was still in high school and Natalie was in her sophomore year at UC Davis when she left, and Tasha hadn’t been thinking about the future, theirs or her own. She’d run away with little thought to anything but escape, and while she’d been running, time had kept moving. She stole a glance at her sister and withheld the bitter sigh trapped in her chest with the rest of the terrible and awful things she kept hidden away.

A tear slid down her nose before she could stop it, and a wave of sorrow threatened to knock the strength out of her legs. Bracing herself against the sink, she prayed for the ability to get through this moment before Natalie noticed the breakdown that was surely heading her way. Breathe. Just breathe. But a sob caught in her throat and an ugly sound escaped.

“Tasha?”

Turning away, she closed her eyes, but the action only squeezed out the tears she was trying to hold back. “I need some air,” she managed to say before bolting from the room. Flying past Nora, who was just returning with more empty plates, she stepped into the darkness and embraced the frosty air as it penetrated her clothing and caressed her skin.

Sinking to the front porch step, she wrapped her arms around herself, more for reassurance than warmth, and fought to stay focused. Her breath came in painful stops and starts as she willed the hurt away. She was too old to keep saying it’s not fair, but that didn’t keep her from thinking it over and over. Wiping at the tears that felt frozen to her cheek, she stared up at the sky and wondered if her mother was up there somewhere. And if so, was she looking down at her eldest daughter with a sad frown on her face? Wondering how her brightest star had winked out within a heartbeat?

She dropped her head to rest on her knees and tried curling into a ball. I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier. I would’ve been here for you. Fresh tears slid down her cheek and her gaze was lost on the darkened landscape of her parents’ home. She drew a shaky breath and buried her face into her arms.

Oh, Mama…I’m so sorry.

JOSH GRABBED A POT HOLDER and pulled the smoking mess out of the oven just as Christopher’s lanky form rounded the kitchen corner to lounge against the wall. Damn.

“Another one bites the dust?”

Pot holder covering his mouth as he coughed and sputtered, he gave his son a short nod. “Looks like pizza again. Sorry, buddy.”

“Fine by me.” Christopher sent a dubious look toward what had started out as Tater Tots casserole but had ended charred and dangerous, and said, “Did that even start out worth eating?”

Josh wrinkled his nose at the concoction and pursed his lips. “Dunno.” He swung around to give his son a grin. “But I get points for trying, right?”

“Sure, Dad,” Christopher said, cracking the first grin Josh had seen on his son’s face since they moved. Christopher pivoted on his heel and Josh followed him out of the kitchen, glad to leave behind the burning wreckage and needing to see how Christopher was adjusting.

“So, you getting used to the new school yet?” he asked, rubbing at the sting in his eyes and blinking hard until his vision cleared. “Everything okay? No one’s giving you any trouble?”

“It’s ,” Fine Christopher answered, his cheeks reddening when his adolescent voice cracked.

“You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?”

“Dad, stop stressing. I’m fine. One school’s no different than the other. They all suck.”

His hopes sank at Christopher’s revealing comment. He’d hoped Emmett’s Mill would be a fresh start for the both of them. At the last school, Christopher had been bullied incessantly. It wasn’t the same as when Josh was in school. These kids weren’t just stealing lunch money or tossing nerds in trash cans. With the last incident, a group of punks had cornered Christopher, flashing a switchblade.

Josh felt sick all over again at the thought of what might’ve happened if a teacher hadn’t come upon them. Suspensions had been given to the boys from the school’s side, and after Josh filed a complaint with the police, felony charges had been levied. By that point, he’d already packed his bags, finished with everything associated with the city of Stockton. Including his wife.

Speaking of. He withheld the grimace and tried to keep his voice neutral. “It’s your mom’s weekend. She’ll be here Friday after school. Make sure you have your stuff ready.”

“What’s the point? She won’t come.”

Josh winced inwardly at the hurt couched inside his son’s belligerence. Since moving, Carrie hadn’t made much of an effort to see Christopher. He knew the reason, but he’d hoped Christopher didn’t. “She’ll come,” Josh said. “She promised.”

“She promised last weekend, too,” Christopher reminded him, his young face darkening. “She’s too busy spending her new boyfriend’s money.”

Josh should’ve known Christopher would catch on to the real reason Carrie found one excuse after another to reschedule her visitation. He was a smart kid. But as Josh struggled for some sort of reason to give his son this time, he needn’t have bothered. Christopher wasn’t interested in listening.

“Who cares? I don’t,” Christopher said, slouching against the wall as if he really didn’t care if his mother came to see him or not. “She can’t stand me, anyway.”

“That’s not true,” Josh said. “She loves you.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Dad,” Christopher said with a healthy dose of sarcasm before shoving off the wall and walking away, obviously finished with the conversation.

Josh’s heart cracked just a little bit more for what his son was going through. The fact of the matter was, Carrie made it no secret that Christopher embarrassed her. She’d expected their son would be athletic and popular because his father had been, but instead, he was gawky and awkward, his body leaning toward scrawny. To make things worse, early-childhood asthma had made him unable to do many of the things other kids were doing at his age, and he wore braces and glasses. Add to the mix a healthy dose of natural shyness and he made a perfect target for bullies.

Josh knew Carrie loved their son, but she was too wrapped up in things that didn’t matter to realize she was losing her only child. But Josh was the last person Carrie would accept parental advice from. The divorce was too fresh; the hurt and disillusionment too overwhelming—he wouldn’t even try. Either she’d wise up, or not. All he could do was to be there for Christopher.

Awash with regret for choices he had made when he was young, he knew in his heart that somehow fate had made him and Tasha take separate paths for a reason. But right now, he couldn’t help wondering how things might’ve been different if they’d been able to make a long-distance relationship work.

Stanford hadn’t seemed that far away. He’d been so proud of Tasha for getting into the prestigious school. Although the distance eventually tore them apart, he never stopped being proud of his smart girl—even if she wasn’t his anymore.

Ah, hell. He scrubbed his hands across his face in annoyance at the wistful direction of his thoughts. There was no use in looking backward all the time, and he made a point to avoid it even though Carrie always accused him of holding a torch for Tasha. It wasn’t true and no amount of reassuring ever seemed to convince her. He’d given everything to his marriage. But his best wasn’t enough. A failed marriage was a helluva wake-up call.

He’d come home to Emmett’s Mill to get his head on straight, and that’s exactly what he was going to do. When his older brother, Dean, had offered him a job at Halvorsen Construction, he’d gladly accepted, more than happy to bury himself in hard labor, to earn every bruise, scab and aching muscle.

He hadn’t factored in Tasha. Didn’t think he had to. From what he gathered, she rarely came home.

Until now.

He grimaced at the weakness he felt slowly building when he thought of her. She still had the power to make his insides do weird, girlie things, and that was enough to make him realize it was best to steer clear.

That shouldn’t be too hard, he thought, noting his sharp disappointment. He sighed softly. It didn’t look as if Tasha was itching to return for good.

CHAPTER FOUR

TASHA GAVE THE LIST in her hand a quick glance as she breezed through the double sliding doors of the small grocery market, intent on finishing the task as quickly as she could. She wasn’t thrilled with doing the grocery shopping, but both her sisters had plans of their own and couldn’t change them.

Miner Market hadn’t changed much since she was a kid, she noted, going right to the deli counter for her father’s roast beef. In high school, she used to come here with her girlfriends for a hot burrito and a soda, which was often shared among them during lunch. She smiled at the memory and kept moving until she heard her named called.

“Tasha Simmons! Look at you! Goodness, girl, don’t you age?”

Tasha stopped and a name filtered into her memory as the brunette woman ran over to her. “Crystal, wow. You look great, too. How are you?” she inquired politely.

She patted a rounded stomach and beamed. “Can’t complain. Number three right here. Another boy. Jack said pretty soon we’ll have our own basketball team at the rate we’re going. Any kids for you?”

“Uh, no,” she answered, struggling to keep her expression pleasantly bland, ignoring the void she felt in her heart. “Not yet.” Probably never. She lifted her basket. “Well, good to see you. I’d better get to this list or Natalie will kill me.”

Crystal nodded and moved her cart as if to leave but stopped as a sudden thought occurred to her. “I heard Josh’s in town, too. Have you seen him?”

“Actually, yes, he came to my mother’s funeral.”

Crystal’s expression lost some of its sparkle. “Oh, that’s right. She was such an awesome woman,” she said, resting her hand on her belly. “You let me know if you guys need anything. Anything at all.”

Tasha accepted Crystal’s offer with a nod but knew she wouldn’t call.

She detoured down the bread aisle when she saw someone else she’d gone to school with and exhaled softly in relief when she didn’t hear her name called at her back.

For a fleeting, selfish moment, she wished she was already back in Belize, away from the groups of well-meaning folk who had no idea why she wasn’t in the mood to reminisce.

Her coworkers knew she treasured her private time, and since she’d never established herself as the social type, they left her to it.

She drew a deep breath against the sudden tightness in her chest and looked down at the few items she’d managed to grab and groaned. The list was a page long. How much food could one old man eat? She had a sneaking suspicion Natalie had loaded the list in the hopes that she’d run into a friend or two. She sighed. Her sister wasn’t as sly as she thought. Tasha’s problem wasn’t Emmett’s Mill or the people; it was the memory. She’d seen countless counselors, psychiatrists and even a shaman or two in the hopes of dealing with that one incident, but her own brand of therapy prescribed avoidance. And it worked. She didn’t see the point of messing with a method that wasn’t broken.