Nice To Come Home To. Liz Flaherty
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safest place she’d ever known.
“It’s still beautiful,” she whispered.
“It is.”
“There used to be a swing on one of the trees in the backyard. I spent hours out there, watching the apple trees and catching a glimpse of the creek that was the property line.”
“It’s still there. Well, not the same swing, but one on the same tree, with the rope wrapped around the same limb.”
“Aunt Zoey spent so much time with me then. She was the best aunt ever. I must have driven her nuts.”
“That’s not the way she tells it.”
He had to be wrong. Surely he was wrong. Her mother would have told her, wouldn’t she, if Aunt Zoey had wanted to see her again? Marynell had been...difficult, but not possessive. She’d been relieved when Cass spent more time at friends’ homes than she did theirs. Even when Cass’s father hadn’t wanted to take advantage of his court-ordered visitation, Marynell had forced the issue. That alone had accounted for most of her summertime visits to Miniagua.
Luke didn’t wait for her to say more, just led the way up the front porch steps and around the side of the house to the kitchen door. “Zoey?” he called through the screen. “I brought you company for lunch.”
The sound of quick footsteps preceded Zoey to the door, and there she was, unchanged from how she’d looked when Marynell died. Almost unchanged from those long-ago summers. Her hair was white now instead of the light brown it had been, but she still wore it short and parted on the side so that it lay in a sleek curve over her ear. Makeup brought out the deep blue of her eyes. She was as tall as Cass and nearly as slender. She wore jeans and a floaty top, and her smile of welcome was wide and tremulous.
Cass’s heart thumped so hard she thought it was probably visible from where her aunt stood on the other side of the old-fashioned screen door. “Aunt Zoey.”
Zoey drew in an unsteady breath. “Cassiopeia.”
“Really?” said Luke. “You don’t look like a Cassiopeia.”
Cass spared him a glance. “No, but it’s who I always wished I was.” Her name was simply Cass. No Cassiopeia. No Cassandra. No middle name. She didn’t mind it now—she’d given herself Cassandra as a present when she’d chosen her writing name—but she’d hated it as a child, feeling that her parents hadn’t even cared enough to give her a whole name.
“It’s who you are to me.” Zoey pushed open the door. “Welcome home.”
“SHE IS SO PRETTY.” Seth stared out over the windshield of Luke’s boat as they cruised Lake Miniagua after helping Father Doherty and Chris Granger trim the hedges at St. Paul’s.
“She sure is,” Luke murmured, lifting his arm to wave at Tucker Llewellyn as the big pontoon boat he and Jack owned glided past.
“That’s just sick.” Seth sounded disgusted.
“What’s sick?”
“What are you doing looking at a sixteen-year-old girl? You could be her dad.”
“Who’s talking about a sixteen-year-old girl?”
“We are.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” said Luke mildly. “Who are you talking about?”
“Royce Gentry.”
“Oh.” She was a beautiful girl. Prettier than her older sister, but not as striking. She worked hard, too, laughing at herself as the new kid, and falling into easy camaraderie with the others. She’d arrived her second day at work with enough lunch for Mary and herself and doughnuts from the Amish bakery that she shared with everyone.
“So, who were you talking about?” Seth passed him a sly look. “Someone Mom would get all excited about? She thinks there’s something wrong with a guy being thirty-eight and single. Dad says—”
“—leave the boy alone,” Luke finished in unison with him.
“Don’t you want to get married again?” Seth steered the boat carefully as they approached Luke’s dock. “I mean, I hope I don’t get married real young, either, but you’re kind of pushing the envelope on that, aren’t you?” He hesitated. “Jill has been gone a long time.”
“It’s Mom’s envelope I’m pushing. And her grandma buttons, too—that’s for sure.” Luke stepped out of the boat to tie off. “Jill died ten years ago, and she’d be in line behind you and Mom telling me it’s time to get married again. But, you know—” He stopped, staring toward where the evening sun was dipping into the water. “I wouldn’t give up a minute of the time we had together, but the truth is, I don’t want to feel that way about somebody again. Losing her was a kind of hell I’m not willing to chance going through twice.”
“She was so great.” Seth had only been seven when Jill’s faulty heart had failed for the last time. Luke thought his little brother’s grief had been nearly as intense as his own. The young woman who knew she’d never be a mother had been a sister-in-law extraordinaire to the little brother no one ever had enough time for. She’d been his first babysitter, had seen him take his first steps and heard his first words.
“She was.” He smiled at Seth and gave his shoulder a squeeze when he stepped onto the dock a lot more lithely than Luke had.
“So, she’d want to know, too. Who’s pretty besides Royce? And don’t give me the whole none-of-your-business thing. It’s my night to cook and I have no problem with build-your-own bologna sandwiches.”
Luke’s stomach growled as if on cue. “Her sister, Cass. She’s pretty.”
“Oh.” Seth thought over that for the length of time it took them to reach the back porch of the house. “She is, I guess. For someone nearly as old as you, I mean.”
“Keep it up and I’ll send you to Rachel for the school year.”
“Oh, no, say it isn’t so!” Seth threw himself up against the back door, his arms raised in supplication, and Luke pushed him aside, laughing.
“You should be in drama instead of football.”
He showered while Seth prepared dinner. Sometimes he felt guilty because the kid worked so hard, but he was also proud that Seth thrived on it.
“I want you to take this weekend off,” he said when they were seated at the bar in the kitchen eating spaghetti with meat sauce. “It’ll be the last one for a while, between football and apples coming on.”
“Can I use your car?”
“As long as I’m not in it, you can.”
“No curfew?”
“None at all.”
It was a safe concession to make because no matter how often Seth intended to stay up late, he was invariably asleep by eleven. Luke had even bought a TV for the cottage’s second bedroom that had a timer on it, because his brother was usually out for the night within ten minutes of lying down.
“I’m going to meet Cass for a drink at the Grill.” Luke loaded the dishwasher. “If you have friends come over, stay out of the liquor.”
“Nah.” Seth already looked sleepy. “I’m tired. Two-a-days are deadly.”
They were. Luke remembered that. Plus the kid had done more than his share of work at the church. “Get some sleep, then,” he suggested.
“I will.” But Seth was already reaching for his guitar, and Luke hesitated. They usually played music together for an hour or so—it was a habit he didn’t want to break.
“Go.”