A Mother's Homecoming

chapter Five




“Pssst, Faith!”



Faith Shepard shot her best friend a warning glance. Even though both girls were finished with their pop quizzes, Morgan knew what a stickler Mrs. Branch was about talking in class. After yesterday, Faith was in enough trouble at home without her lit teacher sending a disciplinary note. Faith used to think of her dad as one of her best friends—not that she would ever say something so dorky out loud. In the last year, though …



She didn’t know what was going on exactly, but lately it didn’t take much for her previously cool dad to freak out. Maybe it was the divorce. Or Grandma Gwendolyn always harping on him.



“I have to talk to you,” Morgan whispered urgently. She always sounded urgent.



Keeping her eyes on the teacher’s desk, where Mrs. Branch had started grading, Faith asked out of the corner of her mouth, “About Kyle?” The way Morgan rhapsodized, you would think Kyle Gunn was Robert Pattinson’s hot younger brother.



Morgan shook her head slowly, also keeping her gaze forward. When she spoke again, her lips barely moved. The two girls could totally do their own ventriloquism act on one of those talent search shows. “No. About you.”



What? Faith abandoned their eyes-front subterfuge, whipping her head in Morgan’s direction. What did her friend know? Did it have to do with the strange murmurings in the cafeteria today when Faith passed, the way that hag Arianne had snickered this morning?



“After class,” Faith whispered, hardly caring anymore if they were caught. “My house.”



NICK CAME HOME EARLY for two reasons. The first was, he’d been thinking about his daughter all day and wanted to be there for her—even though he doubted she’d welcome his presence. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d grounded her, which meant he was destined to be persona non grata for a few sulky days.



The other reason he came home was much simpler. He oversaw a construction crew. And men who were distracted shouldn’t be around power tools and huge pieces of motorized equipment.



“Faith?” He walked through the back door, entering the kitchen and calling out her name. Based on the past few times they’d clashed, she would be holed up in her room, blasting some sort of music guaranteed to annoy anyone over the age of twenty-five, pretending not to hear him.



So it came as a surprise when she met him at the edge of the kitchen tile, hands on her slim hips, glaring at him through exceedingly red eyes. The eyes combined with her sniffling made it clear she’d just finished a crying jag.



“Faith? What is it, honey?” Stupid question, when he already knew the answer. The coincidence was too great. But on the one-percent chance that this wasn’t about Pamela Jo Wilson, he held his breath and waited for his daughter’s reply.



“Is it true? Is my mom in town?”



Nick sucked in a breath, wondering for the millionth time when this parenting gig was going to get easier. That entire first year, when Faith had been so tiny and fragile, he’d been scared witless. He’d told himself that when she was bigger, stronger, it wouldn’t be so excruciating. But then there’d come the day when he’d had to put her on the bus to kindergarten, and it had been like taking shrapnel in the chest. Which had been nothing compared to the first time she told him she liked a boy. And now …



“It’s true.”



She deflated, arms dropping, shoulders hunching. “I was hoping you didn’t know. I thought, no way would he keep something like this from me. I found out from Morgan, Dad. You don’t even like Morgan! Half the school knew before me. Or figured, anyway. Someone’s mom knew that you and this chick used to be a thing, so people were wondering … Do you know how squicked I was to hear that people were talking about my parents’ sex—”



“Please stop.” Nick flinched, hoping he’d never hear his daughter use the word sex again. While he wasn’t sure what the exact definition of squick was, he felt confident that he was right there with her. “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t known long, either. And it’s why I came home early today. Why don’t we sit in the living room?” This wasn’t going to be a simple conversation, suited to a few minutes of standing in a doorway.



“Okay.” But instead of turning around, she marched further into the kitchen toward the refrigerator. She pulled out a gallon of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, then went to the utensil drawer, shooting him a defiant look as she withdrew a spoon.



“Make it two,” he told her. They could have ice cream for dinner and, if she was still hungry later, he’d make her salad for dessert.



They sat together on the couch, each digging into the tub while they collected their thoughts.



“Where do you want me to start?” Nick asked her.



“When I was born. You told me that you weren’t married long because you wanted different things.”



“That’s right.” I wanted you, and she didn’t.



He and Pamela Jo had both been alarmed to discover she was pregnant, but they’d married anyway. Nick had loved her, truly believed they were destined to be together. They’d even been eager to have a baby, in that clueless teenage way, with no idea of what parenting really entailed. Though it hadn’t been easy—his trying to take community college classes while Pamela Jo read pregnancy books and tried to cope with his mother day after day—he’d thought they’d make it.



Until the baby came. Pam’s personality had undergone a radical change. Worse than that, it was as if her personality had faded away. She’d shut him out when he’d tried to talk to her, and his mother had downplayed his fears, insisting that Pam was jealous of the baby and competing for Nick’s attention with her listless “act.”



Faith stabbed her spoon into the already softening ice cream. “You said she wanted more than life in Mimosa. Even if it was a jerky thing to leave her daughter, I guess I can understand her not wanting to be here. I miss Charlotte,” she admitted with a sigh.



Had he done the wrong thing, moving them back here instead of staying in North Carolina? He certainly hadn’t anticipated this when he made the decision.



“But here’s what I don’t get, Dad. I never really thought about it until Morgan was asking me questions, but if my mother wanted to leave Mimosa, why didn’t you go with her? Why didn’t the three of us go be a family somewhere else?”



Because she never gave me a choice. Never gave us a chance. “Honey, you know that sometimes marriages just don’t work out. Like me and Jenna.”



“That bombed because she had a guy on the side,” Faith said flatly. She was unlikely to ever forgive her stepmother, which was a shame. Jenna was probably the closest Faith would ever come to a mom. “No mystery there.”



“The truth was, Pamela Jo—your mother—and I were very, very young when we got married. Too young. Most people who get together as teenagers don’t last forever.”



Faith mulled this over. “All right,” she said finally, once more the logical, reasonable daughter he knew and not the stranger who’d been breaking rules and picking fights with him lately.



Nick exhaled with relief. I should have known. Faith was a good kid. When you got right down to it, he’d been damned lucky. Maybe his visit to Pamela Jo this morning had been an overreaction. He dug his spoon into the ice cream with renewed appetite.



“Dad?”



He looked up with an expectant smile. “Yeah?”



“I want to meet her.”



“PAMELA JO!” Julia’s voice carried easily from the front of the house to the kitchen. “You have company.”



Pam was startled enough that she almost dropped the Jewel Tea dinner plate in her hand, one of her aunt’s Autumn Leaf collection. She corrected at the last moment, so that the dish slid harmlessly into the warm waiting suds. “Y-you’re sure?” Her pulse doubled and she struggled to control it.



What were the odds of Nick Shepard tracking her down twice in one day? She felt ridiculous even considering it. The man wanted nothing to do with her.



“PJ the VJ!” There was an excited—and thankfully very female—squeal of excitement from the foyer, then the clatter of high-heeled footsteps across Julia’s hardwood floors. A round brunette came into view. Petite but very curvy, she’d seemingly fashioned her entire look from circles: glossy curls, black hoop earrings that nearly brushed her shoulders and a rainbow of polka dots covering her black sundress. “Ohmigod, I can’t believe it’s really you! I mean, my sister told me. But I had to see for myself.”



Unlike with Nick, whom Pam would probably recognize in every fiber of her being even if fifty years had passed, it took a split second to place this person from her past. “Dawn?”



The brunette grinned. “In the flesh.”



Tears pricked Pam’s eyes, startling her. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d weathered the news that her mother had died and that Nick Shepard lived just around the corner. So why should seeing an old friend elicit the waterworks? “You look good. Really good.”



Although Dawn Lewin might be plumper than was strictly fashionable, she’d always been good with hair and makeup. She’d fixed Pam’s hair before countless choir solos and high school dances. In the years since Pam had seen her last, her friend appeared to have outgrown a certain girlish anxiousness. As a teen, Dawn had been cute but insecure; now she exuded a subtle confidence that magnified her charm. Pam felt a twinge of envy. Her own confidence could use a boost these days.



“You look like you’ve been on some kind of killer diet,” Dawn countered. “I am never gonna fit into jeans that skinny. But you have split ends,” she added critically. “You’re not so thin that I’ll break you if I hug you?”



Pam shook her head, stepping forward to meet the other woman halfway. Dawn smelled like chocolate and expensive hair care products and her hug was more comforting than Pam could have imagined. She retreated quickly, embarrassed.



“I didn’t realize how much I needed a hug. Thank you. I just found out about my mother yesterday,” she said by way of awkward explanation.



Dawn clucked her tongue sympathetically. “I thought of you when she passed. Would have sent a card if I’d had any idea where you were. My sister and I used to watch you religiously when you were on that country music show. Then you disappeared and I told her, one of these days, we’re gonna go to the Mimosa Cineplex and she’s gonna be smiling at us from the big screen.”



Pam managed not to roll her eyes in self-derision. She was about the furthest thing possible from a movie star. “Hardly, but thanks for believing in me. Wait, your sister—that’s who I saw at Granny K’s, your little sister Summer?” The statuesque twentysomething who’d been staring at her was the erstwhile pig-tailed kid who used to beg Pam and Dawn to paint her nails and include her on their gossip? Pam felt like Rip Van Winkle, waking to find the entire world had changed.



“Not so little now, is she?” Dawn burbled with laughter. “I have to wear three-inch heels just to look her in the eye.”



From the kitchen doorway, Julia delicately cleared her throat. “Pamela Jo?”



“Yes, ma’am?” Pam had given up telling her aunt that she didn’t go by her full name anymore—she doubted the woman would change a lifelong habit. But being called Pamela Jo didn’t bother her here the way it had when Nick used it this morning. She had too many memories of his saying her name. The day he’d first told her he’d loved her, the many times they’d made love, the infrequent times they’d argued, the day their daughter was born.



“Don’t you want to offer your guest a place to sit and be comfortable?” Julia prompted. “Maybe get her some tea?”



Heck, no. Pam liked Dawn way too much to inflict The Tea upon her. Instead, she smiled at her old friend. “Want to sit on the porch and catch up?” There was a slight breeze outside and the sun had set enough for the temperature to dip below baking.



“Perfect! I want to hear about everything you’ve been up to since you left,” Dawn enthused as they headed for the front door.



“Um … not much to tell, really. You witnessed the pinnacle of my ‘fame.’” She made air quotes with her fingers, shaking her head at the memory of PJ the VJ. She settled into one of the creaky rockers on the porch, and Dawn sat on the padded striped bench across from her. “After the video jockey gig, I tried a few things that didn’t really work out. But tell me all about you! Are you even still Dawn Lewin, or is it Mrs. Some-Lucky-Guy now?”



Dawn’s cheeks grew rosy. “Not yet, but I’m hoping he’ll pop the question next month. I’ve been dropping hints that an engagement ring would be a very nice birthday present. You don’t know him—Jerry Price. He moved here about five years ago.”



Pam nodded politely, although it was still an adjustment to consider Mimosa a place people would move to; for her, the town had always been something to escape. Of course, now that she’d actually seen Nashville and Los Angeles and myriad places in between, she had to admit some of the destinations she used to dream of weren’t all they were cracked up to be. And she’d seriously missed the food at Granny K’s.



Leaning forward on the bench, Dawn asked, “What about you? Got a special man in your life?” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I feel silly bringing this up—it was all so long ago, you probably don’t even think about him these days—but you do know Nick Shepard is in town? If I were you, it’s the kind of thing I’d want a friend to tell me. That way you can run out for groceries in cute shoes and lipstick. Just in case. I mean, because you’re over an ex doesn’t mean you want to bump into him on laundry day when the closest you’ve come to a hairstyle is a ball cap. Am I right?”



“Absolutely spot-on.” She considered sharing with Dawn her embarrassing encounter from that morning. Joking with the cheerful brunette about it might even make it seem funny. But Pam found the words wouldn’t quite come. It was still too fresh.



Dawn twined a strand of her dark hair around a finger, looking tentative. “We were friends a long time, so I hope this won’t seem like stabbing you in the back. But I sort of made a play for Nick myself. You’d been gone for months, and no one knew if you’d be back, so …”



“You don’t owe me any apology for that!” Pam assured her friend. If I’d wanted him, I should have kept him. Except it had never been about not wanting Nick. It was just the rest of the package—his unwelcoming parents, this suffocating town. The baby. “I left. Nick was completely available.”



And based on what he’d said that morning, he was again.



“Well, it’s not like anything ever happened anyway. We went out once or twice, but he had his hands full. I haven’t even seen him since he moved back.”



I have. An awkward silence descended.



Dawn nibbled at the bright lipstick on her lower lip. “If you’re looking to meet a guy, Jerry has a few single friends.”



“Thanks, but I’m not staying,” Pam said quickly. Did she really seem so pathetic that someone might think her only prospects for a relationship would come from a total stranger? “I’ll probably just be in town a few days.” She’d use the time to try and forge a bond with her aunt and uncle and find a competent real estate agent to list Mae’s—my—house.



Was there a property version of selling a broken-down car for parts? Because Pam couldn’t imagine anyone actually living in the neglected home she’d seen yesterday afternoon.



“Oh, right.” Dawn smiled contritely. “I don’t know why I’d think you were staying permanently.” She stared out at the road in front of them, and Pam wondered if the woman was regretting her impromptu visit. I hope not. Dawn was the first person who’d seemed unequivocally delighted to see Pam, harboring no bitterness over her abrupt departure a lifetime ago.



A pickup truck rumbled down the street, and it wasn’t until the vehicle had practically reached the Calberts’ driveway that Pam read the logo printed on one of the cab doors. Bauer and Shepard Construction. Her stomach clenched. She sat stock-still, unable to take her gaze off the impending doom.



Let it be a coincidence, she thought stupidly. But the truck rolled into the drive and, a heartbeat later, Nick Shepard emerged.



Dawn’s breath caught. “Oh, my good Lord,” she whispered. “That man got even better-looking over time.”



On a completely objective level, Pam supposed her friend was right. But it was hard to appreciate the appeal of his long, lithe body, chiseled features and laser-bright eyes when he looked angry enough to do someone violence. Specifically, this someone.



He closed the space between them with powerful strides. Though he was still in jeans, he’d changed shirts since she’d seen him that morning. The white polo shirt he had on now emphasized his tan. He obviously spent a lot of time out in the sun. A random memory hit her, the two of them by a secluded, sun-dappled pond—her alternately fretting that someone might actually happen along and laughing that if she didn’t put back on certain pieces of clothing, she could end up sunburned in vulnerable areas. She’d realized later that Faith had been conceived by that pond.



Suddenly Nick slowed his gait and conjured a smile. “Dawn Lewin, I didn’t see you there. Been a while.”



Dawn nodded like a bobble-headed doll, hand at her throat. “Sure has. But you don’t look any older.”



“I was just thinking the same about you,” he said. “I hate to run you off, Dawn, but would you mind if—”



“Of course!” The accommodating brunette bounced out of her seat, grinning at Pam. “You and I can finish reminiscing some other time. Stop by C-3 before you leave town, and I’ll do your hair for free. It just has to be after hours.”



“C-3?” Pam repeated dumbly. Like that gold robot in those movies?



“Cut, Curl and Color. You remember the salon on Witherspoon Drive? The owner thought C-3 made us sound more modern and less like the place where Eugenia Ellsberry has been requesting the same blue rinse since 1978.” This explanation came mostly over Dawn’s shoulder as she hustled down the front porch steps. She disappeared into the little compact parked at the curb and was gone all too soon. Pam hadn’t even had a chance to summon her aunt and uncle from inside the house as witnesses.



She gauged the leashed anger in Nick’s rigid posture and sighed. Will people even know where to look for my body? Dragging that pond might be a good start.



“We have to stop meeting like this,” she drawled. It was stupid to bait him, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of what the right thing to say would be. “Did you come here because you realized you didn’t yell at me nearly enough this morning?” Darn it, she’d known she got off too easily.



“No.” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “I came here because my daughter asked me to.”