Secrets of the Riverview Inn Read online

He blinked rapidly and finally turned to her as they crested the hill. “You kept my child from me, Iris. I understand that your depression made you do a lot of things you wouldn’t have done otherwise. I recognize that but I can never forgive it. Ever. I hope that you’ve found relief from those demons.”

  Tears burned her eyes. She’d never expected understanding. Not really. Not after what she’d done. Perhaps with time, understanding could turn to forgiveness. If he was willing to make the first—

  “But, it’s been thirty years and you kept my son from me,” he said, the leash he’d always kept on his emotions slipping. “The boys have a brother they don’t know. A mother who would do that… Frankly, I don’t know you. I don’t know the you that could do that to me.”

  She nodded, the tears vanishing.

  “So, you want a divorce,” she said.

  “I mean, it’s about time, isn’t it?” He laughed bitterly at both of them. “I’ve been faithful to you for thirty years, Iris.”

  “You have?” she asked, shocked. “I thought you would have met someone,” she said, then stuttered, the thought utterly abhorrent. “A companion.” She was at a loss for the right word. “A friend or…something.”

  “When?” he asked. “In the beginning when the boys were little, I didn’t have time or the inclination to bring another woman into our lives.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe the years he’d wasted. “There was one woman, but I ended it. She was looking to be married, to have a family and I would never have been able to give that to her. Or to any other woman.”

  “I was faithful, too, Patrick.” Like looking into a crystal ball, she could see the last time they had touched in his eyes as if the memory was up-front in his mind as it had been in hers, played and replayed during every lonely night for the past thirty years. Unembellished and unchanged despite the years, because that night, that summer night in the backyard, with the boys asleep in their room, while they sat under the light of the half-moon, had been perfect.

  Her heart surged and she wanted to reach out to him, to touch the only other person who shared that wonderful memory with her. She missed him, missed his touch, his kiss. Because, for her, forever, their lovemaking had been beautiful.

  They’d conceived Jonah that night.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that, but he’d suffered enough, and those details would be salt in the wounds.

  Patrick blinked and the memory vanished. In its place was an angry man, wounded and pushed too far.

  “I’m Catholic,” he said, “but I believe my God will understand that I can’t stay in a marriage with you. Not anymore.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, nodding, feeling her bones might break under the grief they both carried.

  “But why didn’t you just sign the papers years ago, when I filed the first time?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged, a man unsure of anything. “Because my faith forbids it. Because my conscience forbids it. Because I thought someday you would come back. I don’t know.”

  She wanted to tell him that she was back. But she was years too late. “I can refile and send the papers to you.”

  Patrick turned and kept walking up the hill toward the gazebo. She slipped slightly on the snow and ice and he grabbed her, steadying her, then dropped his hand as if she were on fire.

  But she could feel him, there on her skin, under the coat that he’d always hated. Just like she’d always felt him.

  They stepped onto the cement floor of the gazebo, where the wind had cleared the snow, creating drifts against the railing.

  “I used to come up here and read those letters you sent me,” he said, staring at the green-gray river with its snowy banks. “Why didn’t you tell me about Jonah in the letters?”

  “He asked me not to.”

  “Does he even know about me? About his brothers?”

  “When he was five he started asking where his father was, so I told him. And you have to understand, Jonah and I…” She paused, unsure how to put this into words. “We’re very close, and even as an infant he knew his own mind. He’d make a decision and that was it. There was no negotiating or cajoling. What he decided was the way it was. When I told him about you he asked me if I wanted his daddy back. I said no.”

  Patrick sucked in a breath and she pressed on. “I said no because I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t totally happy with our life. I was working, he was going to a nice school, we had a little home. And, like you and the boys, we were making it work. So, when I said no, he said no. He didn’t want to meet you. He was five going on thirty-five and I didn’t want him to be upset.”

  “Very noble,” he said, sarcastic.

  “I know I’ve made mistakes,” she snapped. “I get it. But you aren’t without blame, Patrick. You told me not to come back twice. What was I supposed to do? Keep begging?”

  “You could have told me the truth! I would have wanted my son!”

  “But not me,” she cried.

  He paused, looked away, and that was more answer than she could bear.

  “I would have taken you back,” he said stiffly, telling her everything she needed to know about how that would have gone.

  “You think I could live like that?” she asked. “Blamed and unloved every day? By the man I loved?”

  “You have a terrible way of showing it.”

  “So do you.”

  They stood there, a million miles, a sea of stormy treacherous waters between them.

  “I want to meet him,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I can’t force him to do that.”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  “He’s very stubborn, Patrick. And I think—”

  “I don’t care what you think. He’s my son and I have to talk to him. If I have to chase him down in Arizona, I’ll do it. My boys will do it.”

  It was true, she’d always known it was true. It was why she’d hoped, foolishly, that she would never have to tell Patrick about Jonah.

  “Okay,” she conceded. Jonah would do it for her. Her baby would do just about anything for her, which is why she made sure she never asked for anything. He’d ruin himself to make her happy.

  “What’s he like?” Patrick asked.

  She smiled affectionately. There were few words to describe Jonah.

  “He’s driven and stubborn, like I said. Intensely loyal, and that can make him unforgiving. But he’s brilliant, principled and compassionate in his own way.”

  “Is he happy?” Patrick asked, frowning, and Iris realized her description of Jonah was rather stern. And he was rather stern.

  Iris nodded. “Sometimes. Growing up without a father was hard for him, Patrick. He was always small. He was sick often. I think he’s always thought of himself as a bit of an outsider.”

  “What does he do?”

  Again, Iris wasn’t sure how to say this. “He’s in investing. Banking sort of things. And building.”

  “Building, like me?” he asked. And while what Jonah did was nothing like what Patrick did, she nodded.

  Patrick stared out at the water, clearly grieving, clearly wishing he could have been there to ease the burden her little boy had carried at such a young age.

  “He has your smile,” she said. “And now, as an adult, he reminds me of you and Gabe in social situations. He can be very smooth and charming.”

  He smiled, bittersweet and slightly forlorn, and she found herself caving in, hoping the decision would be good for all of them.

  “I’ll call him and he’ll come,” she said, and Patrick’s eyes closed in relief.

  “But only if I’m here. He won’t come otherwise.”

  Patrick went very still and she felt herself mirror that stillness, waiting for his anger or understanding.

  “Okay,” he said, turning to her, his cheeks red, his eyes dry. “Stay. Just get my son to me.”

  14

  Max knew when to admit he was in over his head. Daphne had brought her six-year-ol
d Helen while Daphne went in to get a much-needed massage from Delia. He, because he was stupid and trying to avoid Delia and keep Josie occupied, had taken Josie and Helen to the clearing to facilitate some little-girl bonding over the diligent application of sandpaper to wood.

  In his defense, he’d thought the activity and the company would help Josie, who had been getting moodier and moodier. But he hadn’t realized how badly things were going until Josie knocked Helen down in the snow.

  Josie had immediately apologized, crying far harder than Helen did, who had been simply startled. But he marched both girls back to the inn.

  “I’m so sorry,” Josie said again. Her little hands were fists at her sides and Max had the distinct impression that she wanted to hit herself most of all.

  Bad forces were at work in that little girl.

  “It’s okay,” Helen said, holding tight to her mother’s side. Daphne patted Helen and, because Daphne was just that kind of lady, she reached out to hug Josie. “Why don’t you come up to the farm someday?” she said, and gave Max a smile over Josie’s head. “We’ll do something more fun than construction.”

  Max wanted to say that Josie wouldn’t be here long enough to have any playdates but it didn’t seem like a good time.

  Daphne and Helen left, going through the kitchen to talk to Tim about their produce order since Daphne was their organic fruit and vegetable supplier.

  “Well,” he said, turning to Josie.

  “Don’t tell my mom,” she said quickly, her eyes pleading, which was the first normal kid reaction he’d seen from her since Delia had revealed the truth about Josie’s dad.

  He chewed his lip. It was obvious the kid felt bad and wouldn’t do it again. Should Delia find out, she’d freak out and that wouldn’t do any good. “Tell you what. I have to talk to your mom, but I won’t tell her exactly what you did.”

  Her face lit up. “Thank you, Max—”

  “But you’re going to have to,” he said. “Sooner or later.”

  The lights in her eyes dimmed slightly, but she was still grateful. “Thanks,” she said. “I really am sorry.”

  “Do you know why you did it?” he asked, and she stood there, so still. So careful, as if any movement might lead her down a path she didn’t want to go. “All right,” he said, ruffling her hair. He checked his watch. “Why don’t you go on upstairs and watch some TV. Your mom will be up in a second.”

  She nodded and was gone in a flash. Max turned slightly toward the spa door.

  He was happy to have a reason to seek Delia out. How sick is that? he wondered. Happy for the chance to have it out with her. Finally get the truth from her, if she was capable of it.

  Yep. He was happy to have a reason to enter the fight.

  “You’re sure?” Delia asked, holding the phone to her ear so hard her head hurt. She sat back on her massage table, still warm from the last client.

  As soon as Daphne and her shoulder problems had left, Delia had called J.D., the private investigator, because the frustration and worry of her situation was fraying her composure.

  She couldn’t stay here any longer. But she couldn’t move until she knew where Jared was.

  “I’m totally sure,” J.D. said, his confidence translating to her shaking knees. “I’ve collected most of the evidence I need and I have a meeting with the district attorney on Friday night.”

  Two nights from now. She could hold on for two nights.

  “But Josie called Jared. He’s got the number here,” she said, speaking her biggest fear aloud.

  “That may be,” J.D. said, “but I have a guy watching him and he’s not going anywhere.”

  “I can come home?” she said, stumbling slightly on the word home. Luklo, Texas, would never be her home. But it was Josie’s home and she wanted to be there.

  She wanted her little girl to feel secure. And if that meant Texas, then she’d go back in a heartbeat.

  She’d forgotten, briefly, drunk on Max’s smile and touch, what was important. Josie. That’s all.

  “Not yet,” J.D. said. “Chris Groames is looking pretty fragile these days and I think his role in what happened to you is killing him. He may crack soon, which would make the case pretty open-and-shut. But, even without him, I would think after Friday you’ll need to be here. The district attorney will want to talk to you and to your daughter.”

  “There’s no way around that?” Delia asked. “For Josie?”

  “Nope, I’m sorry. Dave Biggins, who was arrested as the driver of the van found in the desert, is denying all connection to Jared. I’ve found some people willing to testify otherwise, including the man who rented them the van and a border patrol officer who saw them together a week before the incident. But your daughter saw them together that night and you said she heard them fighting.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Look, Delia, I’ve got another call coming in. Just sit tight for another two days. I’ll call you on Friday after I meet with the D.A.”

  “Okay.” She sighed and hung up.

  The CD she played of babbling brooks and chimes that was supposed to calm the nerves and open the mind sounded like cats fighting and she smacked the off button. There was nothing relaxed in her, nothing calm.

  Her mind spun with dark thoughts and worry and fear.

  Josie was changing. Right before Delia’s eyes. It was as if the center of her was slowly rotting and Delia didn’t know what to do, how to fix it.

  Her little girl had thrown a shoe at her this morning. She was rolling her eyes at everything Delia said. There wasn’t a suggestion she could make that wouldn’t get a sighed “Whatever” from Josie.

  At least if they were in Texas, Josie would have school and friends. But what about Jared? And if he was arrested, how much more would the scandal hurt Josie?

  And what would Delia do? Her friends had betrayed her and she would endure sideways looks at the grocery store for the rest of her life.

  And what about Max? What would she do with these feelings in Texas? Where could she put them?

  She stood and began stripping the table, pulling off the linens as if they had personally insulted her. The corners stuck and she yanked and yanked, lifting the table off one leg, but still it wouldn’t give.

  “Damn it!” she said, hurling the armful of white sheets to the ground.

  “Delia?”

  “Max?” She whirled, stunned to see him in her spa. Stunned and oddly grateful after the way she’d treated him.

  His body filled the doorway and his presence filled the room, pushing out all other thought from her head but him and the memory of his touch.

  It had only been two days since she’d shut the door in his face and a little over two weeks that she’d known him and yet—looking at him—she couldn’t ignore the fact that she missed him.

  She felt as if she’d known him for years.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, as if days ago she hadn’t looked at him with open invitation.

  His black eyes scanned the room, the green walls and the small feminine touches she’d added to make the space hers, to own the work she did here, the healing she hoped she brought to people. “The place looks nice,” he said.

  “Well,” she said, “it’s no unfinished shed in the woods, but I like it.”

  His lips quirked again and she felt the breeze of happiness, the bright ray of gladness he brought to her, just by being here and barely smiling.

  And that wasn’t good.

  “Was there something you needed?” she asked. She crossed her arms over her chest and gripped her biceps to keep her hands occupied so she wouldn’t foolishly reach out for him.

  He finished his perusal of the room and turned his eyes to her. She felt that gaze like a physical touch under her clothes along the skin he’d touched a few nights ago. And suddenly she felt naked. She felt naked and spread-eagled on a bar waiting for him.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Josie,” he said.

  “Is she o
kay? What’s wrong?”

  “She’s fine.” He held out a calming hand. “She spent the day with me, but she’s not handling what’s happened between you and her father very well.”

  “I know.”

  “I think,” he said, his tone all business, “it might help if she talked to her dad in some capacity.”

  “What?” she cried, horrified at the idea.

  “She’s got a lot of questions for him and a lot of anger about what he did and right now she’s putting that anger on you.”

  “I know, but—” she shook her head “—she can’t talk to him. Ever.”

  “Ever? Why?”

  She paused, wondering if it was safe to tell him. She wanted to desperately. She was tired of carrying her load alone, but before she could say anything, he rolled his eyes.

  “Fine.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Forget it, Delia. Keep your secrets. But all I’ve ever wanted to do was help you.” He turned to go and she knew she should let him. She couldn’t. Not like this.

  She grabbed his arm before he cleared the doorway. “You were right,” she said. “Jared is a cop, but he’s in a lot of trouble. Not just the thing with me. It’s so much bigger than that and I’m doing what I can, but I don’t want to implicate you or get you in trouble. Believe me, Max.”

  He blinked, stone-faced. “I believe you. I just don’t understand you.”

  “I know.” She tried to smile, to ease the atmosphere between them. “I don’t understand me these days.”

  “Alice tells me you’re leaving.” His voice was low and quiet, but she could feel his hurt feelings. Because hers hurt, too.

  “I was never going to stay here forever,” she confessed. “It was always going to be temporary.”

  “You couldn’t let me in on that?”

  “I didn’t think…” She hadn’t thought at all really. “I didn’t think it would matter. I wasn’t planning on becoming friends with you, Max.”

  “So, it’s not a fresh start?” Sarcasm laced his words.

  “I don’t get a fresh start, Max. Not with my life this way. We should be able to go back to Texas soon,” she said and suddenly from out of nowhere, she realized how much she’d lose when it came time to go.