Chapter 3

 

Almost home.

Keith’s stomach tightened in anticipation as his beat-up Land Rover climbed the last hill before Rainbow’s End would come into view. He wondered if he would find the town changed.

He sat forward, eager now for that first glimpse. And then there it was.

Rainbow’s End.

Surprisingly moved, Keith pulled to the side of the road and stopped the truck. Climbing out, he walked to the crest of the hill and looked at the town below. It was spread across the valley in a neat mosaic, almost as if its design had been planned by far-seeing city fathers. Yet Keith knew the town had simply evolved, beginning with the home of his great-great grandfather Padriac Callahan, who came to Texas in I852 and planted the first Callahan roots.

Keith had heard the story many times. How Paddy’s father Kealan and his mother Deirdre packed up their meager belongings and, along with Paddy and his younger sister Allene, left Ireland in 1848, two years after the great potato famine. Like most immigrants, they traveled steerage and landed in New York, where Kealan managed to find a place for them to live and enough work on the wharves to keep them all fed.

But the family was never happy in New York. Allene died of pneumonia sixteen months after they arrived, and Deirdre, who was terribly homesick anyway, fell into a deep depression. Unable to make his wife happy and feeling like a failure, a despondent Kealan started drinking too much. Eventually, one day on the job, suffering from a hangover, he was crushed by a falling crate.

By now Paddy was almost twenty years old, a big, strong lad who was fascinated by the lore of the western United States and most especially Texas, where, it was said, a young man who wasn’t afraid of hard work could make his fortune. So with his mother in tow, Paddy headed west. He wasn’t sure where he would settle, but figured he would know the place when he saw it.

Keith tried to imagine what his great-great-grandfather felt when he saw the view Keith was seeing now: the green valley surrounded by the low hills, the sparkling river winding its way across the valley floor that, in the spring, was covered with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush. The scene must have seemed like paradise after the tenements of New York and the long trek westward.

Family legend said it had been raining that day, a light mist that reminded Paddy and his mother of home, and that just as they crested the hill—the same hill Keith now stood upon—the sun broke through and crowned the valley with a glorious rainbow.

And so Rainbow’s End had been born. And the Callahan family had lived there and thrived there for the past one hundred and forty-some years. Since Keith was one of six children, he imagined his branch of the family would continue to thrive for many more years to come. Although to hear his mother Rose tell it, if he and his slacker brothers and sister didn’t hurry up and get married and give her a few more grandchildren, who knew how long the Callahans would last? Patrick Jr., the oldest of the siblings, was the only one of the clan to marry so far, and unfortunately for the Callahan name, he and his wife Jan had only produced girls.

It wasn’t for lack of trying, Keith thought affectionately. Still, after girl number four had been born six years ago, Patrick Jr. said they were throwing in the towel. “It’s someone else’s turn,” he’d told Keith when he’d called to tell him about little Allene’s birth.

“Don’t look at me,” Keith had said, laughing.

Eager now to see the family he’d been away from for so long, Keith got back into the Rover, started it up again, and pointed it toward home.

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of the big brick Colonial his father had built for his new bride forty-two years earlier. He’d teased her for years, saying the main reason she married him was the fact that his family owned a construction company, and she knew she’d have a nice house, if nothing else.

Keith was relieved to see the house hadn’t changed. The shutters on the red brick were still painted white, the front door still sported a shiny black. The azalea bushes planted on either side of the door were bigger, as was the oak tree in the side yard. Otherwise, the family homestead looked pretty much the same as it had the day Keith had left it to go to Alaska.

Just then the front door opened. Keith’s heart contracted as he saw the familiar round shape of his mother outlined in the doorway. For a few seconds, she just stood there and he just sat there. Then, moving at almost the same instant, she hurried outside and he opened the door of the Rover and got out.

“Keith!”

“Mom!”

He caught her in his arms and, lifting her up, swung her around.

“Stop! Put me down!” she said, laughing. But her blue eyes, still bright, were filled with joy. “I’m so glad you’re finally home,” she said once he’d put her back on her feet. She patted his face the way she had when he was a little kid.

Looking at her, Keith’s heart swelled with love. He nodded—he was too choked up to speak—and hugged her to him. An instant later, dozens of people poured out of the house and surrounded them. Hands pummeled him on the back, happy voices vied for attention, people laughed, as his entire family tried to greet him at once.

All his brothers were there, plus Patrick Jr.’s wife Jan and their four girls. And his sister Sheila.

Keith was stunned when his eyes landed on Sheila. He’d seen pictures of her over the years he’d been away, but nothing had prepared him for how beautiful she was in the flesh. What a difference ten years had made. Like the rest of his siblings, she had very dark hair—almost black—but instead of having the bright blue Callahan eyes, hers were a soft shade of green.

“They’re just like my grandmother’s,” Rose Callahan always explained. “People said her eyes reflected the color of Ireland after a rainstorm.”

Sheila smiled up at Keith now.

“Hey, squirt,” he said.

Her smile turned mischievous. “Hey, yourself.”

He gathered her into his arms and kissed her cheek.

She hugged him tight. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me, too.”

“You old son of a gun,” Rory said when Keith had released Sheila. He threw his arms around Keith. “’Bout time you came home. I need a drinkin’ buddy.”

Keith hugged him back. Three years younger, Rory was his favorite brother.

“Yeah, Dad killed the fatted calf,” added Patrick Jr. with just the slightest tinge of sarcasm.

“Which reminds me,” Keith said, deciding to ignore the almost-implied criticism. “I’m starving.” He had timed his arrival for Sunday afternoon dinner.

“Oh, good,” his mother said, beaming. “So are the rest of this rowdy clan. But I wouldn’t let them eat until you got here.”

“Well, I’m here now.”

Laughing and talking, they all trooped into the house.

“So what do you think?” his father said. “Is everything the way you remembered?”

“The living room looks different,” Keith said. “Why did you buy new furniture?”

His mother laughed. “Keith. You’ve been gone ten years. Things wear out, you know.”

He knew it was ridiculous to feel affronted, but somehow he had imagined the house would be exactly the way he’d left it.

“Don’t worry,” his mother added, “everything else is the same. Including your old room.”

Entering the dining room, Keith could see she was right. The dark mahogany dining-room table was covered with the same lace cloth it had worn for more years than he could remember. Following his mother into the kitchen, he saw that the round maple kitchen table still had the grooves and scars left from dozens of hands, too. And the kitchen was still filled with the mouthwatering smells that had permeated the house throughout his growing-up years.

Keith lifted the lid of one of the pots on the stove. “Yesss! Mom’s mashed potatoes.” He stuck in a finger, then licked it. “Mmmmm. Even better than I remembered them, lumps and all.”

His mother swatted at him with a pot holder. ‘‘My mashed potatoes do not have lumps! Now you get out of here. Go on in the dining room and sit down. The girls will help me serve.”

Keith grinned at his sister and sister-in-law, Jan. “Okay, girls, get busy.”

Sheila shook her fist at him, but she was laughing. Keith walked back into the dining room and joined his brothers, who were milling around. He ruffled the heads of his nieces, looked at the family portraits adorning the walls and sideboard, and realized how much he had missed all of this.

“Son,” his father said, clapping his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too, Pop.”

They smiled at each other, then hugged. Keith was relieved to see his dad wasn’t going to hold any grudges, although he also knew his father couldn’t understand why Keith hadn’t come home before this—at least for a visit, especially after 9/11.

And I can never explain it, Keith thought. He knew he’d hurt his parents, and it had bothered him for years.

“Okay, now,” his father said, “here comes the food. Let’s all sit down.”

It took a few minutes, but finally they were all seated around the big dining-room table, which practically groaned under the weight of all the food Keith’s mother had prepared. Keith’s mouth watered looking at it. There was boiled ham and cabbage, mashed potatoes, broccoli with cheese, a marinated salad, fried chicken, baked squash, and his mother’s big homemade yeast rolls—the ones he’d dreamed about for years—dripping with butter.

Rory saw Keith’s expression and grinned. “Bet you missed this.”

“You’re right.”

“And whose fault is that?” Patrick Sr. said, but the rebuke was a mild one and his expression held affection instead of censure.

Once his mother and Sheila and Jan took their seats, they all joined hands and Keith’s father said grace, ending with, “And thank you, Lord, for bringing home our beloved son, Keith. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone echoed.

Keith swallowed against the lump in his throat, but he wasn’t allowed to feel sentimental for long. Soon the conversation was flowing fast and furiously, the way it always did with his family. Throughout dinner, Keith was peppered with questions. By the time dessert—a wonderful-tasting, tart-apple pie—was served, Keith figured there was only one question left to ask. And finally, his mother asked it.

“How long are you going to stay?”

Silence fell around the table as everyone looked Keith’s way.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“We were all hoping you were home for good,” his father said.

“I know.” He also knew they expected him to elaborate, but he couldn’t. Because the reason behind his leaving Rainbow’s End in the first place was not the one he’d given them. And even though some things had changed since then, Keith wasn’t sure enough had changed. Suddenly, he knew he had to do something. Something that couldn’t be put off. He pushed back his chair. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to leave for a while. I-I want to go out to the cemetery.” He looked at his mother. “Do you mind, Mom?”

Her gentle face softened. “Of course not. You go ahead. We’ll all be here when you get back.”

Murmurs of sympathy and assent came from the rest of the family members.

“You want company?” Rory said.

Keith shook his head. Although he would have liked to have Rory come along for moral support, he knew this visit was something he had to do alone.

Thirty minutes later, Keith stood in the still hot, late afternoon sunlight of the July day, and looked down at the well-tended grave site he’d had no trouble finding. The marble stone at the head of the grave was large and elegant and matched the one next to it, which belonged to Paul’s father, Reginald Sheridan.

Keith’s chest hurt as he looked at the words cut into this newer one:

Paul Reginald Sheridan, Beloved Son, Husband and Father

Below were listed Paul’s birthdate and the date of his death: September 25, 2001. The ten month anniversary had just passed a few days earlier.

Keith fought back tears. Rory had called him to tell him about Paul’s accident while driving home one evening after meeting a visiting ex-fraternity brother for dinner, and Keith had grieved then. But seeing Paul’s grave made his death more real and Keith’s feelings of loss and remorse more acute.

He had never gotten over his betrayal of Paul. That Paul didn’t know about the betrayal didn’t lessen Keith’s feelings of guilt and self-disgust. The stark fact remained unchanged.

Paul. I’m so sorry. So very sorry.

After that night when Keith fled Austin, it didn’t take him long to realize that there was no way he was going to be able to stay in Rainbow’s End. How could he? To be that close to Paul and Susan every day of his life? Even if he could face Paul after what he’d done to him, Keith knew he could never be around Susan without remembering what they’d done. Without wanting to do it again. Just thinking about her caused him to feel that same stirring. That same longing and need.

In fact, it was all he could do to keep from calling her. Dozens of times, his hand had reached for the phone. And dozens of times, he’d pulled it back.

No, it would be impossible to stay in such close proximity. He couldn’t trust himself around Susan. Sooner or later, he would give himself away. Worse, he might lose control and make a move on her again. The whole idea was unthinkable.

So a couple of weeks later, Keith told his father he had decided to do what he’d always dreamed of doing—go to Alaska. His family had tried to talk him out of it, but Keith wouldn’t budge. And in April, one month after that fateful spring break, armed with his savings and his most prized possessions, Keith climbed into his car and made the long trek north.

He’d settled in the port town of Ketchikan for no other reason than he liked its rustic look and the friendliness of the natives.

He’d been lucky. He’d landed a job with an air-cargo company and eventually learned to fly one of the seaplanes they used to take supplies to outlying areas. It had been a simple life, but a good one. He’d worked hard, made some friends, even had a girlfriend for a couple of years. But he’d never fallen in love again. For by then, he had realized that was what had happened to him when he’d met Susan. Yes, he’d wanted her, but that was only the outward manifestation of what he’d felt. He’d fallen in love with her, and if he hadn’t been so young and so appalled by the fact that Paul loved her, too, and wanted to marry her, he might even have done something about his feelings. Over the years he’d had plenty of time to think, and he’d wondered what would have happened if he’d stayed at Susan’s that night. If they’d talked about things.

Instead, he’d run away, and that fall Paul dropped out of law school and he and Susan married and had a son. They moved to Rainbow’s End and the next year Paul joined the sheriff’s department.

Paul wasn’t much of a letter-writer, but he did call Keith several times that first year, especially in the beginning. It was difficult talking to him. Keith tried to act as if nothing was wrong, but Paul had sensed something was different. And gradually, the phone calls stopped.

All those lost years, Keith thought now, his heart filled with regret. If only things could have been different. If only that night had ended differently. But it hadn’t, and afterwards, Keith had done the only thing he could do at the time. He had distanced himself from Paul and Susan, hoping that with him gone, Susan might be able to forget and move on, maybe even build a life with Paul. And obviously, she had.

As he stared at the grave, he remembered the happy times. He hoped Paul had added to them these past years. That he and Susan had had a good marriage. That Susan wasn’t haunted by the same guilt, the same memories, that had tormented Keith.

Susan.

Over the years, Keith had tried hard not to think about her. But today it didn’t work. Images of her flooded his mind, followed by questions that had weighed on him ever since he’d heard about Paul’s accident. How was she taking his death? Was she all right? What about their son? How was he handling the death of his father?

And then, even though he knew it was wrong, the other questions, the ones he’d tried never to voice, even in his thoughts, reared their heads. Did she ever think about that night? Did she ever think about him?

Suddenly, Keith knew he had been lying to himself for weeks, ever since he’d made the decision to come home. His family wasn’t the main reason he’d come home, even though he was certainly happy to see them again.

The real reason was Susan.

Because until he saw her again, he would never be able to put the past behind him.

* * *

“I love this town. I’m so glad I chose to live here.”

Susan Sheridan smiled at her neighbor, Zoe Madison. “And I love having you as my next-door neighbor.  And my friend, of course.” Zoe was a wonderful friend. In fact, Susan wasn’t sure what she would have done without her in the months since Paul had died.

Zoe returned her smile. “I feel the same way about you.”

“You know,” Susan said, “When I married Paul, I was a bit nervous about coming here.”

“Really? Why?”

“Oh, you know how insulated small towns can be. Paul had lived here all of his life. I was afraid maybe I wouldn’t be accepted.”

“I can’t imagine you not being accepted, no matter where you might go.”

“That’s because you’re loyal," Susan said. "But I worried for nothing, because people were great, really welcoming. Not every single person, of course. I’ve met a few I can do without.”

“No place is perfect," Zoe agreed, "But I think Rainbow’s End is pretty special. I realized it the moment I saw the place. That’s probably why so many people who move away seem to want to come back.”

The two women were sitting over iced tea and pretzels on Zoe’s screened in back patio. It was a warm Sunday evening and Susan could hear children laughing over a game of Marco Polo in a neighboring pool. Her own son, Scott, who was nine and going into the fourth grade next month, was playing a game of fetch with Zoe’s chocolate lab, Coco, in the backyard where she could see him.

Susan frowned at Zoe’s remark. “So many? Doc Hardy’s the only one person I can think of who’s moved away, then come back.”

“What about Mary Beth Bridges?”

“Mary Beth really didn’t have a choice since her mother needed someone to care for her,” Susan pointed out.

“I know, but still . . . Rainbow’s End seems to have a pull on people.” Zoe took a long drink of her iced tea. “You know Sheila Callahan, don’t you?

At the mention of the Callahan name, Susan winced mentally, which irritated her. Her continued sensitivity where Keith’s family was concerned was frustrating. After all, it had been more than ten years since she and Keith had had their one-night stand. You’d think she’d be immune to reminders of him by now. “Yes, I know Sheila, but she hasn’t moved away.”

“I know that. She’s one of the gals I see at Curves when I go, and she mentioned that her brother was coming back to Rainbow’s End—” Zoe broke off, frowning at Susan. “What’s wrong?”

Susan had gripped the edge of the wrought iron table between them. “I-I suddenly felt faint.” Her heart was beating like a tom-tom in her chest. Get ahold of yourself! Zoe will think you’re crazy!

Zoe was already halfway out of her chair. “You look white as a sheet, Susan! Put your head between your legs. Are you sick?”

“No, no, I’m not sick. It—it’s the humidity.”

“Well, then we’d better get you indoors.”

“No, really, I’m okay.” Susan took a drink of her tea, fanned herself with her hand, and gave Zoe a weak smile.

“Are you sure?”

Susan nodded. “Yes, I really am okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Zoe sat back down. "I’d better get that overhead fan installed out here."

Susan forced herself to talk in a casual tone. “Zoe, I’m fine. Quit fussing. Anyway, you were saying Sheila Callahan’s brother is coming back. Did you mean Keith?” Saying his name aloud made her heart pound again.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“I do. He was a good friend of Paul’s. In fact, they were best friends. They went to school together.”

“Boy, this really is a small town. Everyone knows everyone else, don’t they? Uh huh, Keith’s the one. Actually, from what she’s told me, he’s one of only a few Callahans who have ever left Rainbow’s End. Well, a Callahan did found the town.”

Susan nodded, her mind whirling. Keith. Keith was coming home. Dear God. After all these years. All these years when she’d thought she was safe. Her eyes moved to Scott. Just then he laughed, the sound clear and joyous. A fierce love swept through her as she watched his dear face. It was so good to hear him laugh again. He was finally beginning to heal after the grief of losing his beloved father.

She swallowed.

And now Keith was coming back.

And he would see Scott.

Scott, the son he didn’t know he had.