Every Time We Say Goodbye. Liz Flaherty
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Llewellyn didn’t like our family and we weren’t all that cracked on hers, either.” Her thoughts backtracked and it was as though she could feel Jack’s blue gaze on her. “I mean, later on, we weren’t. After the accident.”
Gianna sighed. “She and I made our peace over the years, fragile though it was. Now Jack and Tucker are back here to stay, at least for a while. Judging from what I’m hearing on the grapevine, Jack is not being treated kindly.” She patted Arlie’s cheek. “I know you welcomed him when he stopped by last night, and I’m proud of you for that. I also know how much you were hurt. I think if we make our ‘welcome back’ public, it will be a good thing.” Her dark eyes were damp, but her smile caught her stepdaughter in an aura of warmth. “I love you, Arlie.”
“You already got me here. You can stop being sniffly over me.” Arlie gave her a one-armed hug. “But I love you, too.”
The service was dignified and brief. From where she sat between Gianna and Penny Phillipy, Arlie could see Jack and Tucker in the alcove reserved for family. Tucker’s mother sat between them. A boy who appeared to be about twelve was in the chair beside Jack. Arlie wondered who he was. As far as she knew, other than his half brother, Margaret Llewellyn had been Jack’s last living relative.
Many people from the lake attended. When it was over, most of them spoke to Tucker, though there wasn’t the exchange of memories that usually took place at memorial services. No one said, “If there’s anything I can do...” or “She’s in a better place now.” No one hugged anyone. No one laughed or cried.
And hardly anyone talked to Jack. There were nods of recognition from townspeople. Sam, Nate and Jesse shook his hand. Even Jack and Tucker seemed to have little to say to each other. The boy stood between them, shaking hands when he was addressed.
The night before, when Jack had appeared at her door, Arlie hadn’t wanted to talk to him, either. Seeing other people purposefully snub him broke her heart. She turned an anxious gaze to Gianna. “Can we fix this?”
Just as her stepmother had never led her astray, she’d also never failed her when it came to knowing the right thing to do.
With Arlie in tow, Gianna walked straight to Jack. “Oh, sweetheart, we’ve missed you so.” She drew him into a hug he couldn’t have avoided if he’d wanted to. “You remember that you and Tucker are expected for dinner at the Cove tonight, don’t you?” She smiled at Tucker’s mother. “Ellen, it’s been too long. Can you come, too?”
“I can’t.” Ellen Curtis beamed at her, gratitude shining from her eyes. “I’m having dinner with other friends tonight because I’m flying back to England tomorrow, but I’m so pleased these two will be in your capable hands.”
“Yes.” Jack had to clear his throat. “Thank you, Gianna. Is it all right if I bring another guest?” He drew the slim-built boy forward, his hands resting either protectively or possessively on his shoulders. “Mrs. Gallagher, this is Charlie. My son.”
The earth didn’t move. Most of the people around them didn’t even look surprised. Of course, they were probably too busy squirming from being shamed by Gianna’s openhearted acceptance of Jack into their midst.
But Arlie couldn’t breathe.
They’d spent two hours together the night before and he hadn’t seen fit to mention a son. Or—go ahead and twist the knife—a wife. Not that being married was necessarily a prerequisite to parenthood; Jack and Tucker’s father hadn’t married either of their mothers. But the conversation the night before had been one that went well beyond the parameters of just being polite. They’d shared memories; they’d laughed. They’d talked about the accident and he’d apologized even though he hadn’t specified exactly what he was apologizing for. He’d said he didn’t know what to say to people now that he was back.
I have a son named Charlie would have been an extraordinarily good start.
* * *
“THEY DIDN’T KNOW I exist?” Charlie stood stock-still at the rear door of Tucker’s car when they finally left the cemetery after the private graveside service Margaret Llewellyn had requested. “How could they not know I exist? I’m arguably the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“You’re twelve years old.” Tucker stared over at his nephew in disbelief. “No one uses the word arguably when they’re still wiping their noses on their jacket sleeves.”
They did when they were Charlie, who’d skipped third grade and was well on his way to passing over the eighth, as well. He was both brilliant and funny. Neither of those traits led to appropriate behavior, which he insisted against all parental objections was part of his charm.
“Get in the car, Charlie.” Jack waited for him to obey, then closed the door behind him and got into the front passenger seat. “You know I never come back here unless I have to.”
He was still trying to process the look on Arlie’s face when he’d introduced Charlie. She had looked, for just a heartbeat in time, completely stricken. She’d paled so much that the spray of freckles on her nose had stood out in stark contrast to her skin. He’d reached to touch her, but she’d backed away a step, shaking her head slightly before turning a smile on Charlie.
Tucker looked at Jack from behind the wheel. “He’s right, you know. Other than continuing to have me for a brother whether you wanted me or not, Charlie is probably the best thing to come into your life since you walked away from the lake.”
“See?” Charlie spoke up. “Except for the brother part, Tuck’s got it.”
Jack turned enough to look at the adolescent behind him. “You know, I can probably get your grandparents to take you back to South Bend with them. They can run you over to O’Hare and put you on a direct flight tonight instead of me flying with you tomorrow afternoon. Your mother would be glad you weren’t missing another day of school.”
Charlie grinned at him, metal from his braces glinting in the afternoon sun sifting through the car window, and Jack grinned back. He could no more resist the boy, who really was the best thing in his life, than he could fly.
“We need to stop and get Gianna a bottle of wine or some flowers.” He looked out the side window of the car. The autumn colors were beautiful. “Is there anywhere on the lake or do you need to stop in Sawyer?”
“We go right past Sycamore Hill, the winery the Grangers started up a few years ago. It’s between the golf course and Jesse Worth’s vet clinic on Lake Road.”
“Chris Granger?” He’d been Jack’s age and had lived next door, but they’d never been friends. The fact that he was Arlie’s boyfriend made it fairly certain they never would be.
“Yeah.” Tucker looked over at him, his expression undecipherable. “I guess he and Arlie have been seeing each other for a long time.”
“They have.” Jack continued looking out the window, noting the colors of the leaves as they went under the canopy of trees on the stretch of road they’d always called “the tunnel.” Jesse’s place would be next, where he’d opened his clinic on the family farm, and then the winery the Grangers owned.
Arlie and Chris Granger. Even thinking about them as a couple made his insides jump around. It had been so much better not knowing. In all the time he’d been gone, he’d managed not to call her, though he’d dialed the number at Christensen’s Cove at least a thousand times. He’d thought maybe Gianna would answer and he could just ask about Arlie to make sure she was all right. But he always hung up before anyone picked up on the other end. He’d written letters all through his first two years at college, trying to explain, to make her understand. He’d never mailed any of them, but he hadn’t thrown them away, either—they were in a wooden box he’d made, stuffed into the back of his closet in his house in Vermont.
Sometime during the summer after sophomore year, he stopped dialing her number, stopped writing letters he would never mail. He started dating again, albeit without his heart