Chapter Twenty
“There are some elemental truths in life. People have needs, people need others, and people need to move on from the past.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #42
Heather parked her SUV on the road in the exact spot where the van had sat the night of the fire. She hadn’t been back on this street since that evening, yet as she’d spent the last week sorting through the items she planned to take with her to Atlanta, she kept pulling out the albums Waylon had looked through the first night he’d been at her house.
And as she looked through them herself . . . she kept wanting to come back to her childhood home.
Her cell dinged a text, and she saw that it was from Trenton.
Sorry. Running late. We’ll be there in 5!
Heather hadn’t seen either friend all week and was excited to be spending time with them before she left the following day. Jill had only returned from her honeymoon that morning, and Trenton had been buried in work throughout Jill’s absence. Heather could have been there alongside Trenton, but after being horrified during the events the week before, she’d played hermit and hadn’t left her place all week.
Well, she’d left long enough to walk up to Aunt Blu’s house. However, after making it up the hill only to realize that Charlie Peterson was there, she hadn’t ventured out again. Nor had she knocked on the door to find out just what Charlie had been doing inside the house.
She opened her car door now and stepped out, then she leaned down, resting her elbows on the hood of the car. The hood was hot, which made her think of her dad, and she dropped her head and let it hang. Her dad had had issues. Logically, she got that. She’d known other people with addictions throughout their lives. In fact, Cal’s uncle had only recently gotten out of an extended-stay rehab center for his own addiction. His was to liquor, though. And maybe that made it make more sense to her somehow? She could see it, touch it, taste it, so there was understanding for how it could take over a person’s life?
She blew out a breath and lifted her head to take in the two-story brick house sitting two hundred feet off the road. She wasn’t sure about anything lately. All she knew was that her mom and dad were supposed to have had a perfect relationship. The perfect love. But if they couldn’t even manage to pull it off, then how in the world was she supposed to? Because clearly, she couldn’t.
Putting her hands flat on the car’s hood, arms spread slightly, she lifted up as if about to do push-ups. She held the position for a moment, then gave a small nod and pushed the rest of the way off the car.
She was getting on that plane tomorrow. Decision made. This was the right move for her.
The plane ticket had been purchased during the last week, a temporary housing solution arranged, and her bags had been packed. But the contract to be employed by Hollander Associates still lay unsigned on her dining room table, because just as with every other aspect of her life, she’d questioned her decision since making it.
But as she’d told Waylon, this was a terrific opportunity. The amount of knowledge she’d glean from those she’d be working with would be phenomenal and the experience unmatched. And living in Atlanta should be fun. She’d never had a real urge to live outside of Texas, much less in one of the more congested cities in the country. But as Phillip had explained, not nearly every job would be in or around Atlanta. They were a nationwide company, soon to be opening a branch in the UK.
But you’ll still have to be working in a larger city if you want to take on the substantial projects.
She frowned. She knew that. And she was okay with that. Taking this job didn’t mean she couldn’t return to Texas when she wanted to. Jill would have babies eventually, and Heather would want to come back and visit.
What if you also want to come back and live here?
She feared that day would come, actually. Because she was going to miss her friends like crazy. Just as she was going to miss Waylon. But she refused to live every day wondering if he would someday turn into her father—or if he might already be.
She’d heard nothing from him that week. Not that she’d expected to. But it had been hard to go cold turkey. At least, that’s the excuse she kept giving herself, that her issues with missing him had more to do with what she’d gotten used to over the last few weeks than that she truly missed him, the person.
But she did miss him, and she knew it. As well as Rose. And the horses.
As close as she and Waylon had grown over the last few weeks, she hated the idea of moving away without so much as a good-bye. Without telling Rose good-bye. But she also knew that’s how it had to happen. The things the guy at the wedding had said . . . they’d made her wonder if more of what the Jameses had told her could also be true. Because Waylon had sworn to her that he’d only run the one con that spring, yet this guy had a completely different story.
So she wouldn’t seek Waylon out before heading to the airport. She might send Rose a postcard from Atlanta after she got settled, though. Apologize for not seeing her before she left.
Jill’s pickup rolled up behind Heather’s, and the two women Heather was closest to in the world stepped out. She unconsciously rubbed her finger over the band encircling her thumb as her eyes took in their matching ones. Even if she was a thousand miles away in Atlanta, they were still sisters. They would always have one another’s backs.
“I called the owners earlier in the week,” Trenton shared.
When she’d made the decision to come, Heather had called Trenton to see if they’d go with her. “Given that we’re here, I’m hoping they said it was okay.”
Trenton slipped an arm through hers. “They said they’d welcome us all.”
The owners of the house greeted them at the door, the wife smiling with unsure welcome, as if she was half-worried Heather might break down upon seeing her old bedroom and half-worried Heather might suggest she never leave. Heather had news for them, though. She didn’t come to see her old bedroom, nor the place they’d once eaten their meals. Nor any other room in the house. She’d come only to look out back. Where the barn had once stood.
Seeming puzzled by Heather’s lack of interest on the inside, the woman led them to the back door. And as the feeling of rightness swept through her, Heather pulled her shoulders back and stepped into the yard.
Definitely no barn. The backyard wasn’t as nice as her mother had once kept it, either, but it was lovely in its own right. The nursery was gone, and in its place was a kids’ jungle gym. The row of peonies—some of the plants having come from Heather’s grandmother—remained, dividing the backyard from the “pasture” where the barn had been. And seeing the plants still thriving now gave Heather hope. Plants survive. Even under the direst of circumstances. People could, too.
The homeowners returned to the house, giving them privacy, and Heather reached for her friends. Together, they walked across the lawn and stepped to the other side of the hedges. No barn, as she’d already noted. But the patch of ground was covered with partridge peas, her mother’s favorite flower. And Heather instinctively knew she was supposed to come there today.
“I finally talked about my dad,” she told Jill and Trenton. She glanced at each of them. “I talked to Waylon about him.”
Then she filled them in on what she’d been unwilling to accept in her heart before. By the time she’d finished the story, they’d all lowered themselves to the ground to sit, taking in the field of yellow wildflowers with the wide blue sky behind it.
“It’s beautiful here,” Heather whispered. And she knew her mom would have made a beautiful bride as she’d renewed her vows.
They remained sitting for several minutes, Heather knowing that when she walked away this time, she truly wouldn’t be coming back. So she was in no hurry to go.
Trenton tilted her head onto Heather’s shoulder, prompting Jill to do the same on the other side, and after a couple of minutes Jill said, “You do know he was going to ask you to marry him?”
Heather did not want to go there. “Who was?”
They both lifted their heads and scowled at her, so she scowled back.
“And anyway,” Heather groused. “How would you possibly know that?” She’d been pretty sure of it herself. He’d been acting like he had a secret all week, dropping little hints as if he couldn’t contain them all inside him.
She’d convinced herself otherwise since then, though. Decided she’d imagined it all. And even if she hadn’t, at least she’d been saved from making the mistake of saying yes for the third time.
Jill dropped her head back to Heather’s shoulder. “Because he asked for our blessings.”
“He . . .” Heather pulled away. “He what?”
She looked at Trenton for confirmation, and Trenton nodded. “The idiot man sold me on himself, too.”
Her heart started pounding. “You gave him your blessing to marry me?”
Trenton nodded again. “I did.”
“Both of you?” Heather turned an accusing glare on Jill.
“He’s a good guy, Heather. He’s proven himself.”
“But you don’t know what he’s done. The guy who showed up at the wedding—”
“Got carted off in handcuffs,” Jill finished, and Heather was hit with shock.
“He did?” But why? Waylon was the one who’d taken money from him.
“You left too soon,” Trenton told her. “You should have stuck around and given Waylon a chance. He loves you.”
She couldn’t believe they were saying this to her. She shot to her feet. “You’re supposed to have my back.” Her voice hitched. “To support me.”
“We do support you.” Trenton stood with her. “And we’ll visit you in Atlanta if you really do decide to go. But we also tell each other when another is wrong.”
Jill rose as well. “And you’re wrong.”
“About Waylon and about taking this job.” Trenton forced Heather to meet her eyes. “If Atlanta is the type of job you want, then start a company right here. Quit being scared to put faith in yourself.”
Heather’s throat grew tight. “Like Red Oak Falls could support a business like that.”
“Texas could. Why limit yourself? Then you get good enough—”
“And big enough by continuing to take on larger projects on the show . . .” Jill joined in.
“And you’ll be fielding calls nationwide in no time.” Trenton’s features softened. “And you’ll have done it all yourself.”
Heather stared back at them, fear like a black, jagged edge around her vision. She’d never realized how scared she was of so many things. Was she too chicken to reach for what she really wanted?
“Do you love him?” Jill asked, and Heather startled at the change in subject.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said.
“Of course it matters,” Trenton pushed her. “Do you love him or not?”
“I’ve loved men before,” Heather argued, and both of them laughed.
“No way you’ve ever loved anyone the way you do Waylon,” Jill guessed. “We’ve watched you, sweetie. We backed off from this thing between you two a while ago because we saw what was happening.”
“And we wanted that to happen,” Trenton admitted.
Heather gawked at her. “But you don’t even believe in love.”
“I don’t believe in it for me,” Trenton corrected. “But look at Jilly. She’s found it. Twice with the same man. And it’s real. This could be real for you, too. So we’re just saying, don’t throw it away because you’re too afraid he’ll leave you someday.”
“Or because you’re afraid he’ll eventually do something to make you leave him,” Jill added.
But I’ve already left him.
Heather didn’t say the words out loud. She couldn’t make herself speak. Because she knew that Waylon would never consider taking her back. She’d turned her back on him after he’d said he loved her. She’d walked away without a word.
And she’d done it in front of Jill’s entire wedding party.
The three of them grew quiet, and Heather took one last look at the wildflowers growing where the barn had once stood. Though there was upheaval roaring inside her, there was also a newfound peace. She nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. It was time to go. And in more ways than one.
She turned for the house then, her two best friends walking at her sides, and she’d made it only a few feet when she heard horses pass behind her.
Jill stopped. “Did you hear that?”
Her question surprised Heather, and she looked over at Trenton to see if she’d heard it as well. Only Ollie had heard it with her before. Trenton had already turned back toward the open field and was stretching her neck out as if to see. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “There aren’t any horses back here.”
Comfort settled over Heather’s shoulders. “It’s my mom,” she told them. “She’s been talking to me lately. I think she’s telling me it’s time to forgive my dad and get on with my life.”
Neither of them questioned her on speaking with her mom, but Jill did ask, “And what’s she telling you that your life is?”
Heather wanted to be the fearless person they thought she could be. She really did. But inside, she knew that wasn’t her. She was made to take the easy route, she supposed. Not to put her neck on the chopping block.
She linked her arms with her friends’. “She’s telling me that my life is in Atlanta.”
Waylon stepped from his lawyer’s office two weeks before his court date, and though he wouldn’t feel 100 percent until he had Rose home with him for good, he felt better about his case than he ever had. Patrick’s showing up at the wedding had actually ended up playing in Waylon’s favor. After Billy had hauled the man away for public intoxication and assaulting a citizen, Patrick had begun to squeal. He still wanted Waylon to give him his $6,000 back, of course. But that had been about pride. What he’d shared about the Jameses, though . . .
Well, the Jameses had finally messed up.
They’d uncovered Patrick a couple of months before, and had been keeping him on “retainer” until they felt he could be of the most use. And apparently, the most use meant having him throw around lies and accusations while the cameras were rolling. Waylon and his attorney had been able to piece together that the Jameses had planned to subpoena production for the tapes, to be used during the hearing. From their point of view, video of Patrick spewing lies would have been catching Waylon red-handed, and for good measure, they’d also instructed Patrick to start a fight. Meaning, get Waylon to throw the first punch. They’d forgotten, however, that although Waylon had plenty of vices in the past, fighting had never been one of them.
He looked over at his dad, who walked tall beside him. As the man had promised, he was standing by Waylon’s side throughout this whole process. He’d insisted on coming today, and though Waylon could have easily handled the appointment by himself, he had appreciated the support. Just knowing he had someone in his corner as he’d worked through final plans with his lawyer had made the day a little easier.
They continued down the busy sidewalk in downtown San Antonio, Waylon seeking out his truck parked near the back of the next lot, and he didn’t notice when his dad stopped walking. Discovering himself alone, Waylon turned back to find the other Peterson standing in the middle of a city of steel and pavement, with far too many cars whipping past, looking about as out of place as Waylon had ever seen him.
Yet as he stood there, his dad also seemed to be comfortable in a way Waylon had never seen, either. Or maybe it was just the first time Waylon had been able to actually see his father that way.
“Everything okay, Dad?”
Charlie nodded. Then Waylon noticed his hands trembling.
“Dad?” Waylon rushed back, but before he could reach his dad’s side, his dad held up his hands to ward Waylon off.
“I’m good,” his dad said. “Just thinking.” His thoughts seemed miles away. “And regretting.”
The heavily weighted words cemented Waylon’s feet where he stood, and the two men remained in the middle of the foot traffic, facing off, four feet apart. “What exactly is it that you’re regretting?”
Fifty-one-year-old eyes that matched his stared back solemnly, and Waylon clenched his jaws together in frustration. Surely they weren’t going to have that conversation now? In the middle of the sidewalk?
He wasn’t even sure he wanted to have that conversation. Hadn’t they been doing okay without it?
But a part of him did want to have it. And that same part wanted to do it right here and right now. Because he was tired of feeling like he was in limbo. Tired of faking it so he didn’t have to face reality. His dad shouldn’t have left the way he did. He shouldn’t have continued for years without acknowledging that fact.
And the part of Waylon that wanted to have this conversation also selfishly wanted his father to hurt because of his actions.
His dad took off his hat and clasped it in his hands, obviously ready to clear the air, and a muscle in Waylon’s jaw twitched.
“I’m regretting many things,” his dad started, eyeing Waylon as if keeping tabs on a feral cat. “First off, I watched you in there today. Fighting for your daughter. And I know how that fight will continue when it’s before a judge. I’ve also watched how you are with her.” He scrubbed his fingers over his cheek and stretched out his jaw. “I was always the more traditional type. Thought a kid needed to be raised by his mother. I thought getting out of the way was the right thing to do.”
“It wasn’t.” Waylon could only manage two clipped words.
His dad nodded. “Maybe not. And I can see that Rose is definitely better off for having you in her corner. But your mother and I couldn’t make it, son. We tried.”
“Excuses.” A bead of sweat rolled between Waylon’s shoulders. This didn’t feel like a real conversation. Not the one he wanted.
“It’s not excuses.” His dad picked his monologue back up, but he no longer looked directly at Waylon. “The thing is, we never should have gotten married in the first place. We fought all the time, and that was no good for anybody. Hell, I stayed out in the pastures more than I ever stayed in the house. What good was I doing by sticking around?”
“I stayed out there with you.”
When his dad’s words cut off and he looked back over at Waylon, Waylon continued.
“Do you not remember that? How, if I wasn’t in school, I rode right there beside you until after dark? I also headed out with you before sunrise. I was your damned shadow, Dad. Because I looked up to you. Because I loved you”—his voice cracked, but now that he’d started, he was unwilling to stop. “And you never once returned that love.”
Pain filled his dad’s eyes. “That’s not true. I loved you. It broke me not to have you with me.”
“Yeah? Then why not take me when you left?” Waylon ground out. “Like I begged you to do.” His dad started to shake his head, but Waylon pushed on. “Don’t you dare say that it was because Mom needed me there with her. I heard her tell you I could go.”
“That doesn’t mean that she didn’t need you.”
“And saying all these words now doesn’t mean you ever believed them, either.” Disgust coursed through him. Why have a conversation if you weren’t really going to have one in the first place? He was done with this crap. “Be real for once in your life, Dad. We’ve been living together for six weeks now, pretending things are fine and that we’re getting ‘better.’” He air-quoted the word. “But neither of us believes it. Hell, neither of us has even made one honest attempt at making anything better. We just skate along the surface, hoping the ice doesn’t crack. And now you think you can fix all these years of pain by feeding me a line of crap?”
He nearly spit at his father’s feet.
“Prattling on with useless words does not mean you’re clearing the air,” he told his dad. “We have issues, and I’m tired of ignoring them. Deal with it, or get the hell out of my house.”
The ultimatum suddenly set Waylon free, and as he took a step back, gasping for air as his tirade came to an end, his dad’s eyes bulged with fear. Feet shuffled along beside them, someone bumped into his dad. But Waylon didn’t look away from the man who had all his same features. These were things that should have been said years ago.
“I don’t want to leave,” his dad begged. “Please, son. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this, okay? I never have been. It’s one of the reasons I couldn’t make things work with your mom. But I’ll work on it. I’ll do whatever you want me to do to fix it.”
“Because you don’t want to lose Rose?”
Waylon wanted Rose to have a relationship with her grandfather. She loved him very much. But if she had to, she could have that relationship with his dad living in another house.
“No.” His dad’s voice carried more assuredness than it had before. “I do love Rose, yes. But it’s not her I want to stay for. It’s you, Waylon. I want to do right by you. I swear I never meant to hurt you before, and I do understand that I did.” His dad’s chest rose with the breath he pulled in. “And truth be told, I’ll probably find a way to do it again. But tell me, and I’ll make it better. Tell me, and I’ll do my best to be the dad to you that you are with your daughter. Because I never understood that a man could be that kind of dad before today.” The steam ran out of him. “I never understood, Waylon. And that’s the biggest regret in my life. That I wasn’t that kind of dad to you.”
Waylon stared back at the man he’d spent too many years resenting, and as if forgiveness had been sitting there waiting for him to take it, he suddenly felt as if he’d been handed the most precious gift of all. He’d just needed to hear the words. To see that he wasn’t the only one in the relationship who’d been hurting for the past twenty years.
The last shred of resentment lifted, and at the same time, his remaining worry over whether he was truly doing the right thing for his daughter floated away with it. He was the right thing for Rose. He finally had no doubts. And his dad living in Red Oak Falls was the right thing for them.
He nodded as his thoughts tumbled into an order that made sense, and when he looked around as if coming out of a long slumber, he caught more than one pair of eyes cut toward them. And he almost laughed right there in the middle of downtown San Antonio. When he and his father finally decided to clear the air, they certainly did it right.
But at least they’d done it. Heather would be happy to—
He stopped the thought before he could finish it. Heather wouldn’t anything. Heather was gone. She’d walked away from him without so much as a word or a chance for explanation. No matter what kind of professional opportunity she’d been presented, he’d deserved better than that. They’d deserved better.
At the same time, he wasn’t a barbarian. He understood the need to chase a dream, to take an opportunity when it presented itself. And because he did understand, he also hoped he’d someday be able to wish her well. If not personally, then at least in his head.
Today wasn’t that day, though. It was nowhere close.
But today was the day that he got his dad back.
“That’ll work.” He stuck out his hand, not knowing at first what else to do—nor what else to say—then grinned at both the absurdity of his actions and his words.
As his father hesitantly put his hand into Waylon’s, Waylon shook his head and brought his dad in for an enveloping hug.
“I love you, Dad.” He’d known he did, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever said it to the man.
His dad’s embrace surrounded Waylon. “And I love you, son.”
If he’d seen it from an outsider’s point of view, Waylon might have been embarrassed at the sight the two of them made on the very public street. But then again, maybe he wouldn’t have cared at all.
He had his dad again. For the first time since he’d been seven years old, his world didn’t feel as if it sat on ground waiting to crumble under his feet.
They finally separated, and as one, they turned for his truck. They’d gone about half the distance when Waylon looked over. He thought about the fact that Blu Johnson had made more than one appearance at his house recently. “If you’re going to keep living with me, I say we set some ground rules. Namely, what you can and can’t do with a woman in your bedroom.”
His dad chortled. “I’ve already got that one covered. Loud music.”
Waylon’s jaw went slack as he recalled the music coming from his dad’s room only two nights before, and Charlie Peterson nodded, as if impressed with his own ingenuity.
“That’s right,” his dad said. “You’ll never hear a thing as long as I’ve—”
“Stop,” Waylon interrupted. “I get it. And I’m incredibly sorry I brought it up.” He felt as if he needed to wash his eyes out with peroxide—even though he’d seen nothing of what had gone on behind his dad’s closed door. “New ground rules,” he suggested as he thumbed the unlock button on his key fob. His truck chirped ten feet in front of them. “I buy you lunch today before we head home . . . and then you and I never speak of this again.”
His dad laughed once more. “I can work with that deal. But I will go ahead and tell you,” he continued, as he headed for the passenger’s door, “that I do enjoy playing loud music.”